#this was written in a rush so pls be nice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheriecoke · 1 year ago

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards.

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.

he can feel the man swallowing.

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand.

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity.

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.

limply, they fall to the floor.

chuuya rushes over to you.

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it.

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?”

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?”

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either.

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.”

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.”

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.”

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.”

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.”

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.

but you… you’re different.

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.”

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found.

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.”

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?”

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.”

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you.

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend.

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.”

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation.

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed.

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive.

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them.

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes.

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.

dazai hums. “you the leader?”

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him.

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.”

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.”

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?”

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.”

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

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chamisulgrape · 1 month ago

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watch me, watch me party on you 𖤐 [p.sh] pt.1

You and Sunghoon, the faces of two rival fashion brands, can’t stay apart after one night shared in the midst of New York Fashion Week.

☆ part one of party 4 u | part two [soon]

☆ pairing → sunghoon x afab reader

☆ word count → 6.8k

☆ tags → fashion industry setting, model au, nyfw, rivalry, lots of yearning and lust!, models falling in love during nyfw, confessions

☆ smut tags → porn with plot, barebacking (unprotected sex), blowjobs and foreplay, lots of spit/biting, squirting, use of petnames aka baby/darling, they're nasty and in love, minor dirty talk/degradation

☆ warnings → implied minor and subtle side relationship between sunoo and riki, who are the fashion designers in this au, please do not read if that upsets you in any way. you are not forced to read this in any way! hate comments and anything of the sort will be deleted and you will be blocked. not proofread

☆ a/n → hihi! this is a rewrite/revamp of another fic i have written previously on ao3, so if this seems familiar yes it is me! this is also my first time writing on tumblr since 2017-2018 when i wrote for bts, still learning my way around so pls be nice to me :3

minors pls dni.

♪ hope you walk in the party, cause i threw this party just for you.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

"Are you nervous?"

You raise your gaze from the tape on the floor with your name on it, to meet Sunoo's calculating eyes. You swallow, and shake your head. "No."

You've trained your whole life for this opportunity. This is the moment they've been working towards for years. Now that it's in their hands, you're not going to ruin it. You're confident in your abilities, definitely, but what you're most confident in is making Sunoo and Riki proud.

"Good," Sunoo says, curt. He nods his head, looking over your suit—a careful and beautiful handcrafted piece, a piece in their latest and most criticized collection that is meant to exceed the norms of gender and all that alike—before calling Riki over. "You're our star. So go out there and make us proud."

Riki rushes over in seconds to peer over Sunoo's shoulder. "Everything good?"

Sunoo nods, brushing your suit off before disappearing to look after the other models.

Riki gives you a once-over just as Sunoo did, before running off and returning with a palette and a small makeup brush. You let him apply a sticky substance over your matte lips, and part them carefully when you're told not to smack. Riki uses his thumb to dab the corner of your lips and smiles. "You're perfect."

"Of course," you huff. "It's your guys' production. I wouldn't expect anything less."

Riki laughs and shakes his head. "That's what we like to hear. Don't tell Sunoo that, though. We don't want his ego skyrocketing any higher than it already has."

A staff member rushes up to them and gives the two of you a thumbs up. "Up in two."

Riki lets out a nervous breath. "You got this. Remember, loose—"

"—but not too loose." You finish. Riki reaches out to squeeze your hand once.

"Don't forget the pockets. And unclench." Riki frets over you some more before running off to find Sunoo.

The nerves don't hit you until there's less than a minute left. You're nervous, as anyone would be, but you're more excited. You want to be out there, showing that this is their brand. This is their debut. This is it.

It's Fashion week, it's New York, and you're going to make XO proud.

You stand tall and straighten your posture when you hear the music play, remembering what Riki said about unclenching and you relax your jaw.

"Go."

You do what you know best: you walk.

It's exhilarating; you live for it.

All eyes are on you—assessing and scanning over your outfit—like they're looking right through you. You can hear the questions already: What is XO? What do they stand for? What do you represent? You answer in the only way you know how.

You prove it by walking.

Like Sunoo said, you're their star. You're the face of XO and the person they specifically chose and nurtured and worked alongside for years, from the bottom of their brand up. You represent XO, and more importantly, you represent Sunoo and RIki.

There were no other candidates or options. From the very beginnings of XO, made in Sunoo and Riki's small studio, you've been there with them. They’ve come so far, to be holding a show amongst famous and respectable brands, and you are more than appreciative to be here with them. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than with the two people you cherish the most, doing what you love the most.

Towards the end of your walk, you spot him.

Sunghoon Park, face of PARADOXXX, sitting in the very front row.

You're not surprised that Sunghoon is here, no, you're more surprised that Sunghoon is looking right at you. Sunghoon isn't trying to look through you, nor is he holding his phone out to record like others are doing. Instead, Sunghoon's gaze is focused solely on you, and you feel as if Sunghoon is capturing the moment with his eyes instead.

Your heart almost stops when you meet Sunghoon's eyes. You look forward, trying not to let your gaze stray, but you can't help the way you keep taking subtle glances back towards Sunghoon. Your eyes are attracted to him, and you can't bring yourself to look away for too long. When your eyes meet for the third time, Sunghoon raises a brow, tilting his head slightly. You can feel your ears get hot, and you curse yourself for being distracted by him, but you can't help it.

Although there are over a hundred eyes on you, you can't feel as though Sunghoon is the only one really looking.

The last time your eyes meet as you near the end of your walk, Sunghoon winks. You make it your mission not to collapse until you get backstage.

"You're perfect! Perfect." Riki pulls you into a hug as soon as you make the turn backstage and then takes your hand to lead you further back and into a makeup chair. Sunoo comes shortly after, resting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing them lightly.

"Amazing, as always." Sunoo says, proud, before turning to Riki. "Retouch his lips."

Riki nods and Sunoo leaves with a kiss on Riki's cheek.

Later, as you watch through the TV to monitor the rest of the show, you notice that Sunghoon doesn't look at the other models the same way he looked at you. Sunghoon doesn't trap them with the same gaze he did you, nor does he look at any of the following models with the same eyes he looked at you with.

You can't get Sunghoon's eyes out of your mind, or the way he looked at you with want. Not a want of lust or greed or sin, but curiosity. A need to know.

Sunoo and Riki host XO's after party at DUMBO house that same night.

You're dressed in another XO outfit, one that Sunoo and Riki designed specifically for this event. They ditch the suit for a loose open blouse and a flowy pair of dress pants, and Riki chooses to do your makeup himself.

They take loads of pictures and videos for XO's social media accounts, and another ton of photos at the DUMBO House photo station before going off to meet the crowd of celebrities and contributors of the show.

"Have fun," Sunoo says, and proceeds to push a glass of champagne into your hands. "You deserve it."

You laugh, before your face falls. "Why does this sound like you're about to run off again?"

Sunoo shares a look with Riki before taking ahold of his hand. "Because we are. Have fun! Mingle!"

Your sounds of protest get lost on your tongue as Sunoo drags Riki away. You sigh, cradling your glass of champagne against your chest before going off on your own as well. You're stopped by various people asking for pictures or to congratulate you on the show today. You spend a few minutes talking to other models of the show and even Jang Wonyoung of IVE, before making your way towards the terrace.

The view from the terrace is breathtaking. You can see the river and the skyline from here, and you opt for setting down your glass to pull out your phone and snap a view pictures of the bridge and night sky. You're going through the photos you took when you're interrupted by someone sidling up next to you.

"Nice view."

You turn to see Sunghoon, in the flesh.

You startle, taken aback by their close proximity. Sunghoon tilts his head again, tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip, and you can't seem to look elsewhere. Unlike earlier during the show, you don't have to force yourself to look away now.

"Yeah, nice." You say, clearing your throat when your voice comes out hoarse.

Sunghoon takes a moment to sip from his own glass of dark liquor before speaking again. "You guys did great today. As always."

Your cheeks warm, and you look away from Sunghoon to down the rest of your champagne.

"Are you coming to our show tomorrow?" Sunghoon asks, and you turn to meet his gaze again. Sunghoon's hand has somehow gravitated towards you, now resting on your lower back.

"And if I don't?" You reply, fingers tightening around your empty glass when Sunghoon's fingers trace the open back of your blouse.

You know you'll be there, there's no way Sunoo and RIki are letting you miss out on a PARADOXXX show. But that's the thing about the game that you two are playing: you're the face of XO and Sunghoon is the face of PARADOXXX, two rival brands.

At the end of the day, the public knows that behind the rivalry and competition they like to fuel, Sunoo, Riki, Heeseung, Jake, and Jay are as close as best friends can be. They've been friends since grade school, and shared the same dream and ideas of opening their own brand with each other. The competition is fun for them, and they use each other as a way to keep their motivation and creative juices running.

(Also because they're all competitive bastards. You think that somehow they get off on winning.)

Still, you want to indulge the game you and Sunghoon seem to be playing by yourselves.

"I'd be disappointed," Sunghoon smiles softly, his hand falling from your back to rest on your waist. "I'd have loved for you to be there."

Your lips part at the sight of Sunghoon's smile. You knew that Sunghoon was pretty, handsome, and everything alike. Hell, you've known since high school, but Sunghoon has only gotten more attractive since, and you crave to know just how beautiful he is on the inside as well.

"Don't be too disappointed, Sunoo and Riki have already planned my outfit for tomorrow. You'll see me there." You grin, and you have to look away once Sunghoon smirks back. Damn you, for always being weak for pretty boys.

"Good," Sunghoon whispers.

"Good." You echo in reply.

They take a moment to bask in the scenery and view and each other, before Sunghoon breaks the silence again.

"Are we done with the small talk?"

Sunghoon squeezes your hand, and you wonder how you missed the fact that Sunghoon started holding your hand in the first place.

"What do you mean?" You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance. "We've only spoken a few words."

"I think a few words is enough, don't you think?"

"What do you really think?" You shoot back, and you know you're dangerously toeing the line between what you should be allowed to do, but it's exhilarating; the same way you feel when you're on the runway, you feel the longer you're in Sunghoon's presence.

"I think, Sunghoon starts, before using his grip on your hand to tug you closer until your chests are almost touching. He looks down at you, "That you should get to know me better."

"And you? Don't you want to know me better as well?" You ask, your glass of champange long forgotten as you hook a finger in one of Sunghoon's belt loops.

"I do, but I rather it be in the privacy of my hotel room." Sunghoon still has that wide, sharp grin on his face, and you find that you want to kiss it off of him, feeling the sharp edges of his fangs against your tongue.

Instead, you snort. "Wouldn't that be a headline? I can see it now. Us, faces of rival brands XO and PARADOXXX, seen eloping and spending a night together."

The smile you receive in return is blinding; melting and dripping warmth and love, and your heart threatens to pound out of your chest and into Sunghoon's hands. "Shouldn't we give them something new to write about?"

"Why should we?" You inch closer. You can almost feel Sunghoon's breath on your lips.

"I want you, and you want me. It's that simple." Sunghoon leans in, the tip of his nose barely grazing your own.

You reel back an inch, reveling in the way Sunghoon chases after you with a soft sigh. "Who said I want you?"

Sunghoon snorts this time, shaking his head lightly. "You've never been that subtle."

"And what about the others? I don't think they'll appreciate us leaving early, nonetheless being seen entering a hotel together."

"I don't think they'll mind that much, darling."

It's all you need to close the distance between you two, stealing the last syllable of Sunghoon's reply right off his lips in a chaste kiss.

The drive to Sunghoon's hotel is silent, and it takes everything in you to not jump Sunghoon right there in the back of the car.

You bite your tongue to hold back the small whimpers that threaten to come out as Sunghoon keeps his hand steady on your thigh, massaging the flesh there every so often and teasing over your crotch. Your eyes almost well up in frustration, and you have to dig your fingernails into your palm to keep you sane.

It feels like hours before you arrive at Sunghoon's hotel, coincidentally being your hotel as well.

"We don't have to take this to your room, mine is here too." You say once you're both in the elevator.

Sunghoon gives him a look of amusement. "Would you rather I do the walk of shame tomorrow morning? I have no shame in doing so."

You scoff, cheeks heating. "Shut up, you have. show tomorrow, it's fine. We'll do this in your room."

"You sound as if this is a job." Sunghoon crosses the elevator to take your hands into his, tugging him flush against his chest. "Am I not entertaining you?"

“You—” you huff. “You’re plenty entertaining. Entertaining and insufferable.”

Sunghoon hums, before surging forward to press his lips to yours. He bites down on your bottom lip softly before pulling away, laughing softly at the whimper you let out. “You don’t sound like you hate it.”

“I don’t.” You push Sunghoon off of you when the elevator dings, announcing their arrival to Sunghoon’s floor.

Sunghoon trails after you, catching up to you to wrap an arm loosely around your waist and steering them down the floor and in the direction of his room. When you arrive to his room, he pulls out his keycard to unlock the door. “Last chance to back out. Take one step in here and I’m not letting you go.”

You snort, pushing past him to enter the room yourself. “You’re so insufferable. Hurry up and give me what I came here for.”

“You’re so mean, darling. Here I am trying to sweep you off your feet, and you’re telling me you only want me for sex?” You hears Sunghoon whine as the door closes behind them. “Truly so mean.”

“Sunghoon. Come here and kiss me before I walk right back out that door.” You say, already having made yourself comfortable on the edge of Sunghoon’s bed.

Sunghoon throws his head back with a laugh, before shrugging off his blazer and throwing it elsewhere. He makes his way towards you stopping once he’s kneeling in between your legs, hands running up your thighs before stopping at your waist. “Didn’t know you were this impatient.”

“And I didn’t know you were this annoying.” You huff, frustrated, before grabbing onto Sunghoon’s blouse and crashing your lips together.

It’s more tongue and teeth than lips, but Sunghoon takes it in stride, matching your pace. Sunghoon’s hands stay on your hips, and you whine into the kiss in frustration.

“Sunghoon, when are you going to touch me?” You whine, leaning in to kiss Sunghoon again while reaching down to grab onto one of Sunghoon’s hands. You pout when Sunghoon pulls back, hands leaving you completely.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Sunghoon says softly, before leaning in to nose at your neck. He licks along your collarbone, leaving small kisses as he trails down further.

“Everywhere.” You deadpan, and the laugh Sunghoon lets out in response tickles your skin.

“I’m trying to romance you,” Sunghoon leaves another kiss in the middle of your chest, and for once you're thankful that the blouse Sunoo and Riki put you in is wide open. “Yet you’re complaining.”

“You can romance me another day, Sunghoon. If you don’t get your dick inside me now, I’m going to wither away. Fast.” You sigh when Sunghoon untucks your blouse, and finally presses his palm against your skin. “I’m aging, Sunghoon.”

You can feel Sunghoon smiling against your skin, which frustrates you further. Sunghoon is so slow. You are this close to losing it, when Sunghoon finally stands. “You’ll let me sweep you off your feet another day?”

You groan and roll your eyes. “Yes! I’ll let you romance me whenever you’d like! Whatever it takes to get you to—” You pull at Sunghoon’s belt loop, tugging him closer so you can fumble with Sunghoon’s zipper. “—fucking take off your pants already.”

You hear Sunghoon laugh above you, then feel Sunghoon's hand come to rest on your head, before he runs his fingers down the side of your face. Sunghoon’s touch leaves your skin burning, and you forgets all about wanting to take his pants off when Sunghoon tilts your head up by the chin to run his thumb along your bottom lip.

Sunghoon presses down on your lip softly, the touch so soft, so intimate that your breath gets caught in your throat. Sunghoon is looking down at you with eyes so soft and filled with so much care and affection that your mind fills with static.

“You’re so pretty,” Sunghoon sighs. “So pretty.”

You flush, letting out a flustered scoff. You wrap your lips around Sunghoon's thumb and suck lightly. “Can I suck you off?” You mumble around Sunghoon’s finger, and the way Sunghoon brings his thumb down to press against your tongue almost has you gagging.

“Five seconds ago you were just telling me that if I didn’t get my dick inside of you you’d die. And now you’re asking to suck me off?” Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head fondly.

“I changed my mind.” You pull your head back, making sure to keep your lips wrapped tightly around Sunghoon’s thumb, and pull off with a pop.

Sunghoon hums, wiping the spit you've left coating his finger on your cheek, and you scowl. You get a laugh in return, and immediately sit up straighter in anticipation when Sunghoon starts to unzip his slacks. Your mouth waters, saliva pooling under your tongue when Sunghoon finally pushes his pants down to his thighs. Your fingers tremble with the urge to reach out and grab onto any part of Sunghoon you can touch—his thighs, stomach, back, ass—but you restrain yourself by fisting your hands into the sheets.

Sunghoon clicks his tongue. “Baby,” Oh. You shiver, body tingling from your toes to the very top of your head at the pet name. Sunghoon reaches out to hold onto your wrists, bringing them to his thighs and exhaling through his nose when you run your hands up his skin. “Nobody said you couldn’t touch.”

You shudder in anticipation and excitement as you finally grope at Sunghoon’s legs freely, feeling the static in your mind spread to your fingertips as you run your hands anywhere you can get your hands on. Sunghoon is standing silently as he lets you touch his skin as you please, and it makes you whimper.

You swallow the saliva that keeps flooding your mouth at the thought of how good and nice Sunghoon is and how you want nothing more than to be good for him, too.

You hook your fingers under the waistband of Sunghoon’s boxers, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you pull lightly. “Please?”

You see Sunghoon swallow and tongue at his cheek, and your toes curl at the sight of Sunghoon twitching in his boxers. God, you want him so bad your body aches, craving Sunghoon’s touch everywhere; your body against his and Sunghoon’s pretty lips and tongue and—You just want so badly to be his, to belong to Sunghoon.

“Oh, baby, you don’t have to ask.” Sunghoon says softly, hand coming up, up, until his fingers are running through your hair. You can’t help the way you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of your arousal, because nobody’s ever touched you like this before; nobody has ever touched you with so much affection and care and fondness like Sunghoon’s been doing.

You stand up and remove your fingers from where they were teasing Sunghoon’s skin to curl them around the sides of his neck instead, pulling him in for a soft kiss that says too many things at once. Sunghoon’s hands slide around your waist, fingers digging into your blouse lightly. You spin the both of you around, flipping your positions until Sunghoon is the one seated on the bed instead.

Sunghoon sucks in a breath when you disconnect your lips to drop to your knees between his thighs. You leave kisses on his thighs, biting and sucking to leave small marks you knows will be covered by Sunghoon’s outfit tomorrow. Sunghoon’s hand rests in your hair, and you preen when Sunghoon’s fingers tighten when you bite down too hard.

Impatient.

Sunghoon’s voice echoes in your mind, but you're already painfully wet and throbbing under your panties and you think if you wait any longer you’ll go absolutely insane. You waste no time pulling Sunghoon's boxers down, the sight of the gray fabric damp with a wet spot from Sunghoon’s precome shoves the last bit of sanity and patience you have out the window.

Sunghoon hisses as the cold air hits his cock and his voice breaks off into a low groan when you wrap your soft hand around the base, one hand digging crescents into Sunghoon’s thigh and the other holding his cock steady so you can lean down and lick a stripe up the underside. You moan when you get to the mushroom-top head, eyes rolling back at the musky scent of Sunghoon’s precome and sweat finally on your tongue.

You suck lightly, tongue digging into the slit, already addicted to Sunghoon’s scent and smell and taste. Your lips are slick from the drool from your mouth dribbling out the corners of your lips and down Sunghoon’s cock, and you hear Sunghoon let out a shaky breath above you. You take a glance up and are frozen in place at the sight of Sunghoon with his head thrown back and his pretty throat on display. You make a mental note to remember to taste him there later too.

Sunghoon’s head falls forward when you take him deeper into your mouth, and you're obsessed with the way Sunghoon looks when he’s getting his dick sucked—when you're the one doing it. How his brows furrow, how his lips turn pink and raw from being bitten down on, how he sounds moaning your name when you swallow around his cock.

Sunghoon releases his bottom lip, tongue peeking out to run over it as a way to soothe it. You preen again when Sunghoon finally has his eyes and gaze on you, and it makes you think back to the show earlier today, when all of Sunghoon’s focus was on you. God, the thought makes your blood run hot, and you makes it your mission to prove to Sunghoon just how much you like when Sunghoon looks at you—how much you love when Sunghoon makes you feel like you're the only person there.

“So pretty—god, you’re so perfect for me.” Sunghoon tightens his fingers in your hair and uses the grip to pull you further down onto his cock, until your nose is buried into Sunghoon’s finely trimmed hair. You try to express how much you love this—Sunghoon using you and pulling your hair and praising you—but it only comes out as a weak moan that has Sunghoon's hips bucking forward. Sunghoon curses when you gag around him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You whine and rub your thighs together to relieve some of the ache in your core, fingers tightening where they’re already digging into Sunghoon’s thigh. You pull your head up to swirl your tongue around the tip again before going down, making sure to squeeze Sunghoon's balls ever so lightly and softly as you do, and the throaty moan you get in return has you pulling off to shove your face against Sunghoon’s hip in need.

“Sunghoon—Sunghoon, please. Fuck me now, I can’t take it anymore—please.” You whimper against Sunghoon’s shirt, dampening it with your saliva. “Sunghoon, I want you. I need you so bad.”

You feel Sunghoon shake, tremble, before you're pulled up by the hair and into a rough kiss. Sunghoon tugs you forward so hard that your teeth clash against each other as Sunghoon falls back onto the bed, bringing your body with him.

You moan, needy, as you crawl over Sunghoon’s body to situate yourself on Sunghoon’s thighs. You reach between them to stroke Sunghoon’s cock and swallow down the groan he lets out at the feeling. You suck at Sunghoon’s tongue when it enters your mouth to lick along your teeth and trace your lips. You grind against Sunghoon's palm when he rips your hand away from his cock and presses his palm against your core, instead.

“Off. Take it off,” you pant against Sunghoon's lips and tug at his blouse. You pull back to trail wet kisses down Sunghoon’s neck as he pulls the fabric up, only pulling away to help Sunghoon lift the shirt over his head and diving right back in to lick along his collarbones.

You runs your hands greedily all over Sunghoon’s chest and shoulders, moaning at the feel of his skin. Sunghoon's body is hot and damp with sweat and you can’t resist sucking and tasting every part of him that you can get your mouth on.

“Baby—I have a show tomorrow.” Sunghoon breathes out, sounding just as hot and bothered as you feel. “No marks.”

You whine in response. “But you taste so good.”

“Yeah? Won’t look so good walking tomorrow like this.” Sunghoon laughs, softly, before bringing you back up to pull you in for another kiss. “You’re so cute. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me walking down the runway with your marks on display for everyone to see. Everyone knowing that you did this to me?”

“Want it so bad—want you so bad.” You say in between kisses. You nod, letting out soft exhales into Sunghoon’s mouth as Sunghoon pushes his palm harder against your core, letting you rut your clit against his hand. “Sunghoon, fuck me already.”

“You’re so—”

“—impatient, I know. Hurry, I said please.” You interrupt, and Sunghoon laughs again, the sound ringing in your ears like a symphony. You don't think you’ll ever get enough of Sunghoon. “Sunghoon, now.”

“Are you always this impatient with other people? Or am I just special?” Sunghoon teases, moving to remove your blouse and throw it somewhere across the room. You ignore the fact that Sunoo and Riki would skin you alive if they knew their precious shirt was on the floor of a five-star hotel room while you fraternize with the face of their rival.

You shiver when your chest is completely bare, nipples hardening at the feeling of cold air against your skin. Sunghoon leans down to take one into his mouth, tugging lightly with his teeth. “No—ah—I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I want you.”

Sunghoon laps at your nipple, and you keen during a hard suck. He's running his hands all over your back, and you can’t stress enough how addicted you are to having Sunghoon’s hands on you. Sunghoon pulls off with a loud pop, instead moving to leave marks in the middle of your chest. You can feel the way you're dripping into your panties, soaking through the fabric, hips grinding down against Sunghoon's palm.

“That’s cute. You’re so cute. Just for me.”

Just when you're about to get more impatient, Sunghoon reaches down into his pants to pull out a condom. You scoff. “Were you planning this?”

Sunghoon pats your thigh with a hand, and you gets the hint to hop off of his thighs and onto the bed. You crawl further, until the back of your head hits the soft pillows. Sunghoon removes his pants fully, leaving him completely naked, and your cheeks warm at how shameless he is.

“Maybe.” Sunghoon is kneeling in front of your legs, working on getting your pants off. “Asked Jake for it before the after party.”

“Oh.” You frown down at him. “How often do you do this that he just gave it to you?”

Sunghoon smiles, all teeth, before leaning down to press a kiss on your bare knee. “Don’t be jealous, darling. I told him who it was for.”

“And how do I know that you said me? For all I know, you could’ve had it ready for anyone else.” You pout when Sunghoon laughs against your knee. “It’s not funny.”

“Baby, I don’t want anyone but you. I’ve wanted you for years.”

And oh, “Oh.” Your breath hitches at the confession.

Sunghoon hums, the vibrations tickling your inner thigh. He kisses his way up to your stomach, sucking a mark right above the waistband of your panties. Your mind is swirling, thoughts of how long you've wanted Sunghoon, and now how long he's wanted you. They could’ve been doing this much sooner.

“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “We’ll talk about this later, yeah?” You nod, licking your lips. “Eyes on me.”

You haven’t taken your eyes off of him for as long as you can remember, but you nod. God, you think you might love Sunghoon. You don’t think about it for too long, not after Sunghoon pulls off your panties in one go, adding them to the pile of collecting designer clothes on the floor.

Sunghoon exhales, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re so pretty. Fuck.”

You whine, shy. “Don’t stare.”

“Why not? You’re mine, aren’t you?” Sunghoon says, raising a brow when you release more wetness onto the sheets.

“Yeah—I’m yours,” your voice comes out shaky. “Always have been.”

“I know, baby.” Sunghoon leans down to kiss your stomach, before coming up to kiss your lips too. “I know.”

You whimper against Sunghoon's lips, choking on a moan when Sunghoon ghosts the pads of his fingers down your slit. You can feel how wet you are, the wetness making the slide easier as Sunghoon slides two fingers against your clit, moving them slowly in between open mouthed kisses.

You're barely kissing at this point, more panting into Sunghoon's mouth and Sunghoon licking along your lips, but you can’t seem to be bothered when Sunghoon is touching you like this—fingers gently massaging you, rubbing slow circles against your clit—like you're his.

“Good, fuck, Hoon—you’re so good.” You throw your head back, and Sunghoon dives in to nibble at your neck and suck lightly at your jaw. “Can you touch me now? Please?”

“I am touching you.” Sunghoon emphasizes with a pinch to your clit. “More?”

“Hoon, no, here,” you reach down between you two to wrap your fingers around Sunghoon’s wrist—whimpering when Sunghoon’s hand leaves your clit—to push him lower, lower until Sunghoon’s fingers are ghosting over your hole.

Sunghoon inhales sharply, applying the lightest bit of pressure where you need him the most. “God.”

Seconds pass before Sunghoon reels back to rip open the packet of the condom with his teeth, spitting somewhere off the side of the bed. Sunghoon calls for you, “Baby, c’mere.”

You reach for him, arms coming around Sunghoon’s neck and pulling your bodies flush against each other. Sunghoon hoists one of your legs around his waist, firm grip under your thigh.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Sunghoon leans in and noses at your jaw before running a finger down your slit.

You hold Sunghoon tighter when he finally pushes the tip of his finger in, hole clenching around the digit. You moan, voice cracking when Sunghoon slides his finger in deeper, crooking it before adding another.

“Hoon—Sunghoon, add another. I can take it, please.”

Sunghoon kisses your earlobe before pressing his lips against your temple. “I know you can—god, you’re so tight.”

You clench around Sunghoon’s two fingers weakly, pressing your hips down against his hand in an attempt to get him deeper, to feel fuller. You throw your head back when Sunghoon adds a third finger alongside the two, moaning when Sunghoon scissors his fingers.

“I’m ready, Hoon. Please, please, need you now.” You rock back against Sunghoon’s fingers, whining when you feels Sunghoon’s cock twitch against your thigh.

“I barely even stretched you out, baby.”

“Sunghoon, I can’t wait anymore—please,” you beg. “Hurry, baby, Hoon.”

You hear Sunghoon let out a low groan against your temple, and you let out a soft laugh. “Baby? Is that what did it for you?”

“Could say the same to you.” Sunghoon removes his fingers from your hole, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. “It’s just you, I like whatever you call me.”

“Stop being so cheesy—fuck me already.” You can feel your ears getting hot again, and hopes that Sunghoon doesn’t see right through him.

“Hold on, I need to get the condom—”

“No! I’m clean. Wanna feel you inside me, please."

Sunghoon groans against your neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“C’mon, Hoon, hurry.”

Sunghoon inhales again, leaving one last kiss against your neck before he pulls back, your arms falling onto the bed. Your stomach churns with anticipation and arousal, and you can already feel the pool of wetness you've left under the both of you. Sunghoon isn’t doing any better, and you can feel the sticky spot of precome he’s left on your thigh as well.

You reach down to run two of your fingers through the mess on your thigh before bringing it to your mouth, sucking around your fingers and moaning at the taste. Sunghoon’s lips part, and then he’s surging forward to taste his own precome off your lips.

“You’re so hot, god, I’m so lucky.”

You whine, wrapping both of your legs around Sunghoon’s hips to cage him in. You moan in unison when Sunghoon’s cock brushes against your clit, and your mouth waters at how thick and warm and heavy Sunghoon feels against him.

You reach between them to wrap your hand around Sunghoon’s cock, guiding the head to your slit to rub it against yourself a few times before pushing the tip into your hole, barely, still teasing.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon moans, and you can’t resist pushing the head completely inside.

You keen, throwing your head back against the headboard as you feel Sunghoon finally entering you slowly, stretching you and filling you up just how youwanted. You moan at the feeling of being so full.

“Ah! Sunghoon—feels so good, so big,” Your head lolls to the side, tongue slipping out when Sunghoon finally bottoms out.

Sunghoon’s thumb swipes against your lip, pushing the spit that’s dribbled out from the corner of your lips back into your mouth, keeping the tip of his thumb inside. Your eyes roll back when Sunghoon moves, slowly, pulling back until the head of his cock catches against the ridges and walls of your entrance and slamming back inside in one go.

You wail, and Sunghoon pulls his thumb from your mouth so he can hear the sounds better. “Fuck, fuck—oh my god, Sunghoon, baby,”

“Yeah? You’re so tight. You feel so good around me—god, could fuck you like this every day.” Your moans rise in pitch with each thrust Sunghoon delivers, and by the end of his sentence, you're practically screaming. “You’re so fucking loud, you want everyone on the floor hearing you get fucked like this? Hearing you getting fucked by me, moaning like a bitch, hm?”

Your mind goes blank. All you can hear and feel and taste is SunghoonSunghoonSunghoon.

Sunghoon groans, throwing his head back when you tighten and clench around him. “All the people who saw you walk today don’t even know that their precious model cries and moans like a whore in bed. All for me, just for me.”

You're delirious. “Yes! Yes, Hoon—oh god, just for you! I’m yours, all yours only yours—”

“You’ve never been anyone but mine. Wanted you so bad for so long, now that I have you I’m not letting you go.”

You let out a loud sob, nodding your head vigorously. It sounds so tempting, so delicious—the thought of being owned by Sunghoon—being Sunghoon's own personal model. Just Sunghoon's and no one elses.

The thought has you seizing up, and before you know it, you're squirting all over Sunghoon's cock, fluid splashing against the sheets and spilling down Sunghoon's balls. Sunghoon moans loudly at the sensation of your walls fluttering but doesn’t let up. His thrusts and rhythm don’t falter, instead, he seems to get rougher, fucking you harder through your orgasm to milk you through it.

You whine in sensitivity, each thrust has Sunghoon’s cock abusing the spongey spot in your cunt, and you can't help the way you shake, releasing small spurts of wetness out around his cock.

Sunghoon hikes your legs higher, the angle causing his cock to hit deeper, filling you up even better than he did before. Your eyes well up with tears; the overstimulation hurts so good.

“Fuck, you look so pretty crying with a cock inside you.” Sunghoon curses, hands coming to hold your hips, using the grip and the new angle to piston his hips faster into your hole. “‘m close—gonna fill you up how you wanted, yeah?”

You nod, hooking your ankles around Sunghoon’s back and pulling him closer, deeper. Sunghoon groans, one hand coming up to wipe at your lashes where your tears are collecting so prettily for him. “Sunghoon, baby, fill me up. Want your cum inside me—want it inside, cum inside. Wanna feel you inside me for days.”

Sunghoon pulls you in for a kiss, all tongue and teeth before pushing his hips flush against yours, burying himself deep inside of your hole as he finally cums.

The warmth of Sunghoon's cum inside of his hole has you shuddering, finally content at the feeling of Sunghoon filling you up to the brim.

“Wish I could plug you up, have you come to my show tomorrow all plugged up with my come still inside of you. You’d like that, huh?” Sunghoon says against your lips, and you clench around Sunghoon’s cock, causing you both to moan lowly. “Next time, baby.”

The kisses turn soft, and you melt against the pillows at the feeling of Sunghoon's lips against yours. You sigh against Sunghoon’s mouth, hands holding his jaw to keep him close.

After a few minutes, Sunghoon moves to pull out. You whine, trying your best to clench to keep Sunghoon and his cum plugged inside of you.

“Baby,” Sunghoon chuckles. “We can’t stay like this forever.”

“Please?” You tug him back down and onto the sticky mess between you, grimacing when it smears against both of your skins. “It’s fine, we can clean tomorrow.”

“No.” Sunghoon fights back, but makes no move to get up or pull out.

“Baby, please?” You beg, voice soft, and your eyes widen when you feel Sunghoon’s cock twitch inside of you. “Sunghoon!”

“You’re just so—” Sunghoon lets out a breath, rolling his hips slowly. You full-body shudder, and blame Sunghoon for the way white hot arousal shoots throughout your body again. “Can’t get enough of you. Want you like this every day.”

“Sunghoon,” you sigh when Sunghoon pulls out an inch before rolling his hips forward, the head of his cock rubbing against your abused walls lightly with each thrust.

It’s slow and sensual and intimate, and after a few minutes you're brought to your third orgasm of the night, another load of Sunghoon's cum filling your hole up.

“God, you don’t know what you do to me. I think I like you too much.” Sunghoon says after you’ve both bathed and are lying in bed. Sunghoon’s arms are wrapped around you and your head is resting on his shoulder.

You look up at him, only to find him already looking at you. This time, it’s your turn to say:

“I know.”

Sunghoon laughs softly, lips curling up at the corners in a soft grin before he leans down to press his lips against your forehead.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

You grin back. “Wouldn’t that be a headline? Sunghoon Park, death by love.”

“And who said that I love you?” Sunghoon raises a brow, amusement and fondness and everything swirling in his eyes.

“You’re not that subtle, Sunghoon.” You lean up to kiss him softly, once, twice before burrowing your head into Sunghoon's chest.

Sunghoon pulls the covers over your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, as if you weren’t already as close as you can be. “Wouldn’t you know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Wouldn’t I know?” You repeat after him.

The two of you fall asleep like that minutes later, legs and limbs tangled together. You think your poor, weak heart has already jumped out of your chest and into Sunghoon’s welcoming hands a long, long time ago.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

XO sunoo and riki's brand PARADOXXX heeseung, jake, and jay's brand DUMBO house soho house's third nyc club, located on the edge of the east river + where a designer named peter do hosted his after party during nyfw 2 years ago!

a/n: my first fic here is done! listened to party 4 u the whole time while writing this, it almost made me insane. thank you so much for giving this a try if you did! pls reblog/leave me asks or anything :3 that would make me very happy! part 2 will be out soon hehe

#chamisulgrape #party4u series #enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #enha smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #sunki au

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rebelssvy · 6 months ago

Text

obsessed part two

bokuto x reader

(afab. this is the most comfortable i write in. i try my best to make it as gender neutral as possible and not give any description of the reader. lmk how i can do betterrrrrr)

- authors note: you guys really liked part one. so abt to write a SINFUL part two ☺️☺️☺️

part one -link here!

LABELS: smut omg smut. i’ve never written anything smut so don’t judge pls 😩😩contains, making out, oral sex, sex.

walking to school the next day was a pain. bokutos mind was filled with the guilt of what had happened last night.

he jerked off to the girl in his class, who he still has yet to talk to.

ashamed was an understatement. he was embarrassed and felt inhumane. it was even worse because the problem still hadn’t gone away. he still thought of you in the worst ways. he couldn’t help himself.

closing the distance between him and his class room, his eyes narrowed in on you. the guilt was overwhelming. but you looked so cute in your uniform.

entering the classroom he groaned to himself. sitting down at his assigned desk, putting his hands over his face to try to hide his frustration.

he just liked you so much that it was truly embarrassing. he was bokuto koutarou! one of the top aces in high school volleyball. no girl should have his attention like this.

i am not a man, he thought to himself, hands still covering his face.

“ahem…” he looked up at the person trying to get his attention.

to his absolute shock, you were standing right infront of his desk.

“hi…” you said to him waiting for a response…. the response never came as bokuto just looked up at you mouth agape.

“i didn’t know you were so shy!haha” you try playing off to make it less awkward. his silence seemed to be maybe a message for you to just walk away. and yet you stayed begging for his presence.

“well i’m yn, and i didn’t know if you noticed but we have a partner project in this class…. and we were paired up yesterday…. and before i could figure out a plan with you, you walked out of class before i could talk to you yesterday.” you felt yourself ramble on for what seemed like far to long. his silence was draining.

from what you heard from most people, your schools ace was a huge standout. most calling him extroverted, crazy and annoying.

but right now he sat infront of you saying not a word.

finally he spoke up “oh..” he said. that’s literally all he said.

you stayed for a little longer, watching his face grow into a friendly smile.

“it’s nice to meet you yn! i’m so sorry i didn’t even realize we had an assignment together!! HAHA well don’t worry we can get it figured out. also sorry about yesterday i just rushed off to practice without a second thought” bokutos voice boomed throughout the class room.

you let out a sigh of relief. maybe he was just waking up still? but he sure does seem awake now..

“we can only work on the assignment out side of the school hours…. if your comfortable with it you can come over to my house tonight and we can work on it.” you say smiling down at him.

bokutos prayers have been answered. everything he has ever worked for is being rewarded back to him now.

“yes.!” bokuto replied without hesitation. smile still beaming up at her.

“here’s my number, text me after this class gets out.” you say to him. stealing his phone and saving your contact in his phone. you were a little forward. bokuto was practically gushing.

with that you walked back to your desk and started talking with your friends.

bokuto was so happy he could scream.

the day went on, after you two had agreed on a set time for him to arrive at your house he was counting down the minutes.

he would have to come over after he practiced, meaning he would also have to go home to shower before hand.

it gave you more time to get ready before he made it to your house.

secretly, you had been honing a crush on bokuto for awhile now. when your teacher announced that you two would be in a group together you were thrilled. but when you looked over to bokuto, he seemed… upset.

his face was hard to read. it was a mix of tired, guilt, and anger. you chose to not introduce yourself to him until class was out, not wanting to make a fool of yourself. but before you could he had already left.

that’s why you were so nervous. he was so big, not just tall. that man was beefy. in all the right ways. and you couldn’t even tell if he liked you at all.

of course you would glance at him time to time in class, even showing up to some of his games in previous years. you noticed him.

analyzing yourself in your mirror. checking the time ever so often.

you had taken a shower, got out of the shower and did all your duties to look the best you could. sporting yourself in a way you were most confident.

also going to the measure of cleaning your room. everything had to be perfect.

before you new it your doorbell rang. you rushed to the door, opening to a freshly washed bokuto.

he had on grey sweats and a black hoodie. his hair was still a little damp from his shower, so it wasn’t spiked up in its usual manner. his bangs clung to his forehead.

“heeeLLO” he said to you voice getting a little louder as his word continued.

“hi” you said to him while still looking him up and down. it was a little obvious you were checking him out.

you quickly let him in and gave him a tour of your home. making a mental note to leave your bedroom for last. making a b- line for your kitchen you offered him somthing to drink.

his presence alone was enough. he was just soo huge. you felt his gaze after every corner you took.

“uh yes water is fine.” he said, way more calm.

you got him a glass and sat on your counter top. he was infront of you leaning his back on your cabinet.

as he drank he held a comfortable eye contact with you.

“how was practice?” you spoke up.

he reached forward and put his glass next to you, then leaned back to his formal position.

“i did way better then i did yesterday i can say that much.” he said with a chuckle. his voice was low. deep.

“what happened yesterday?” you asked.

he seemed a little taken back from your question. but it was only a second of that expression that was followed with a smile.

“oh i just didn’t do my best. my teammates say i get in my own head sometimes but even my worst is not that bad soo” he said with a low chuckle again. his grin never really left his face.

he was confident in himself that was forsure. you thought you should atleast see where you stand with him. gathering up all the confidence you had to flirt with him just a tinyyy bit.

“oh so you must be gooood.” you say leaning forward a little, still perched on your counter top. you made sure you arch your back a little, even though he couldn’t see it from where he was sitting. you applied the action anyways.

bokutos ears perked up a little. he sure did love flattery.

“i mean, yeah. i’m pretty good.” he said non chalantly. leaning forward a little more as well.

“tell me bokuto, how good are you?” you asked. leaning just as much as you could without falling off the counter top.

“oh i’m pretty good. but i can’t tell you how good i am… it’s something you have to experience yourself.” he said, smug. grin still on his face.

as he spoke he had stopped leaning against your counter top.

he got closer to you, your heart beat picked up. he then picked up his hand, reaching out.

just as you thought he was going to touch you, he picked up his glass beside you. blushing your thigh in the action.

he picked up his glass and finished the rest of his water with a gulp.

smug bastard. you thought to yourself.

you then got back onto your feet and started walking out of the kitchen. bokuto taking that as his note to follow behind you.

you silently led him to your room. anticipating whatever came next.

as you waked bokuto stared. he stared at your ass, your hips, your waist. anything he could look at he took a mental picture of.

this could be the only time he was this close to you. he thought.

opening the door to your room you, you showed him around.

“you can sit anywhere your comfortable with, but i did get an extra chair for you at my desk.” you say to him. going and taking a seat next to the school work you had already laid out.

bokuto was taking in everything. your posters, your decorations, anything you had in their he was saving in a file in his brain.

he finally sat down next to you.

you started going over the project, he would follow your words with some “hmm” or “ook” but overall he didn’t seem very into it.

all bokuto could think about is you stuffed full of his cock. really it was a shame. you were talking to him and that’s all he could think about. he watched your lips as they instructed him. that’s all he really watched.

“bokuto.” you said in a firm voice.

“are you even listening?” you said to him slightly annoyed.

“uhh yea…” he replied guilt sinking in once again.

he was evil. he wanted you. he felt as if you had just teased him in the kitchen too. he wanted to get you back. bad.

he licked his lips. confidence surging through him for a second. he opened his mouth to say somthing.

but the words never came. blush flooded his face. you probably think he’s stupid at this point.

“you are so pretty.” he said quickly. it came out of nowhere. he didn’t even mean to say it. he was so embarrassed!

but there was no way you were gonna know how embarrassed he is. no, bokuto koutaro never gets embarrassed!

you stare back at him. confused. but to all honestly. you were aching for him. his frame so close to yours, made you painfully aware of how big he was.

and he just called you pretty. what even in your next move! what are you supposed to say to that!

“y/n…” he said quietly. it was soft. he had gotten closer to you then you realized. you could feel his breath on your lips.

“bokuto…” you whispered back to him. the distance was painful.

before you could register he had his lips on yours. closing the gap. you locked your lips with his. it was just a quick kiss. romantic if anything.

you two pulled away. staring him in the eyes, there was a hunger.

“i need more” he said before grabbing you cheeks and closing the distance again. you were shocked. this must be a dream.

your hands found his body. scooting as close as you could without falling off your chair. one of your hands found his bicep. the other on his shoulder.

the kisses grew hungrier. his pace picked up. you gasped when his hand found your thigh. it was a comfortable position.

he took this chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. you purrred against him.

your touches grew with sexual tension. you parted for a second to catch your breath. a line of saliva connecting you two.

“c’mere” he said scooting his chair back alittle. signaling you to get out of your chair.

you stood up waiting further instruction.

he reached up and grabbed your hips pulling you closer to him. he was still seated, legs apart.

you felt like you were on fire. his eyes took in all off you. his hands rubbed your hips. even going a little farther to pinch at the fat of your ass.

“wanna sit on my lap?” he said tilting his head to the side. you shook your head and slowly made your way to his lap. you were positioned so you could face him.

his hands cradled you, finding your curves.

“you think i’m pretty?” you said to him bringing your hands to his jaw.

“you have no idea.” he breathed out.

finding his lips again except the tension in the room was now thick. you were growing a pool in your panties. every touch of his fingers was doing numbers to your core.

without knowing it you slowly started to grind yourself against him. you only noticed when you felt bokuto grow underneath you. his hands moved to your ass. grabbing at it.

then his hands slowly fell even farther. coming concerningly close to your core.

“y/n…. can i…?” he parted quickly. out of breath begging you for more.

“yes bokuto.” you moaned out to him. still grinding your hips against him.

“do whatever you want” you moaned out throwing your head back. you were growing needy.

without any words bokuto grabbed you and picked you up. putting you down on the bed.

your back was on the bed with your legs folded to your chest. he had ahold of your shins.

he was standing above you grinning like a kid in a candy shop.

“i’ve been waiting for this.” he stated.

his fingers graced over your core, you sucked in breath.

“you have?” you whimpered out.

“i have liked you for quite sometime. i have even dreamt of doing somthing like this too you. y/n… you have no idea.” he said while taking off your pants. you were left in only your underwear. then he started working on your shirt, pulling it off over your head.

now being left only in your bra you felt very conscious of everything.

“fuck…” he said to himself seeing you drenched through your panties. this was truly his dream.

“can i?” he said before continuing.

you shook your head yes.

he touched your clothed core with a certain grace. seeming like he was afraid to hurt you. you moaned out at his touch.

your ass was almost off the bed when he slowly came to the ground squatting on two knees.

you soon realized what he wanted to do.

“bo… you don’t have too” you said painfully, when al you really wanted was his tongue on your cunt.

“i want to.” he said before stuffing his face into your core.

you still had your panties on but the friction was just too much. you moaned out back arching for him.

he was hooked. he circled anything he could with his tongue, even taking breaks to kiss your stomach. he finally took your underwear off.

staring at your naked core he was in love. he wanted to be the only man to ever see you like this.

experimentally he blew on it, seeing your body react and you moan out. he loved his life.

diving back into you he licked all of you. slurping up your juices, sucking at your clit. taking every angle he could to make you feel good.

“more…” you whimpered out.

he brought his fingers up to your hole without warning. he played with our rimming a finger around your clenched spot. sticking it in you he stucked on your clit simultaneously.

you moaned out. it was really too much. your core was building up at a fast rate as his finger pumped in and out of you.

he stoped and stood infront of you again. you looked up at him wondering why he had to hault your pleasure.

he took off his hoodie and sweats leaving himself in just his boxers.

and oh. my. god. he was wonderful. he was everything you could ever dream.

“bokuto… i need you.” you told him.

he was on fire right now. you were sprawled out on the bed, cunt for his to see.

“fuck… you drive me insane.” he said pulling his boxers down to free his length.

“oh my god” you moaned out. it was huge. there was no way that was going to inside you. his one finger did the job, so what is that thing even going to do to you.

“cmon baby you can take me.” he said lying down next to you on the bed. you crouch up on your knees.

“ride me.” he demanded.

you positioned yourself on top of him. grabbing at his his abs as you mentally prepped yourself for what was gonna be inside you.

slowly you reach down for his cock. he had already been stroking it.

you touch it and he lets in a sharp gasp of air. you give it a good couple pumps

“hah” he moaned out. you had kept eye contact the hold time you entered him in you.

lowering yourself as best you can. his face was of euphoria.

“bokuto… your tooooo big hah” you moaned out to him.

“call me koutarou” he gasped out.

you found the strength to get him in you. bottoming out you clenched around him.

“fuuuck kou” you moaned out. you started grinding yourself against him.

it was the best pain you had ever felt.

“your beautiful. oh my god.” he said as his hands found your boobs.

pulling your bra down and bringing his lips to your hardened nipples.

your back arched for him. you moaned out louder and louder.

bouncing against him. this was all he ever wanted. he was in heaven.

you felt that familiar coil in your core tighten up again.

and bokuto could tell. he felt your walls clench around him as your threw your head back.

before he could think about it he changed positions. throwing you on your back and into a missionary position.

he took it to himself to start pounding into you.

“kou… nnnits too muchhch” you moaned out. it was almost hard to hear because of the sound your pussy was making.

“cmon. you can take it” he grunted out, slamming himself into you.

you moaned more. eye contact the whole time he fucked you.

the way you clenched around him was almost painful. but he could tell you were close.

he brought his fingers to your sensitive bud.

“cum for me. come on baby you can do it.” he grunted.

“come on my cock.” he grunted even more.

you were so close.

“your mine, understand?”

that sent you have the edge. you clamped around him spasmsing through your orgasm.

bokuto barely pulled out in time to cum on your stomach.

“i’m yours im yours im yours…” you babbled off to yourself.

fuck.

you were both drained.

who ever thought this is where you would be.

he got up to get a tissue for you to wipe you off. then coming over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be right back” he said he before he left.

he came back with some water and helped you up.

“what’s going on?” you asked still faint from your orgasm.

“i started a shower for us!” he beamed at you.

yep. he could definitely be the one for you.

………………………………………………………………………………….

- WOWWWWW WHAT DID I JUST WRITE! this is my longest and still some of my first works i’ve put out. well i hope you like it also. comment any ideas you guys have for me!

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604to647 · 2 months ago

Text

Little Showgirl

12.8K / Modern AU Marcus Acacius x fem!reader

Summary: You do your roommate a favour that lands you in hot water with the head of security at Caesar’s Palace.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). The opposite of a meet cute (meet hate?). A little insecurity on Reader's part; no body shape or size is described even though Reader wears a showgirl costume (we assume it's an inclusive event). There is probably an age gap somewhere given that Acacius is canonically 50 (?), but I didn't intend to write one so feel free to imagine everyone at whatever age you want. Unwanted touching (not by Marcus), accidentally flashing, thigh riding, eventual nicknames.

A/N 1: Written for @toomanystoriessolittletime’s 47 Minutes in Heaven writing challenge, the prompt I got was 'Enemies to Lovers' - thank you for the fun event, Steph!

A/N 2: I don't know what happened with the w/c 😭😭 I need you to know I really tried to cut it down - sorreeeeee. We were supposed to go to a friend's vow renewal in Vegas this month, but cancelled our trip due to current travel advisories 😫, so maybe this was my way of visiting Vegas in lieu of actually going?

Apologies to Janet Jackson for dragging you into this 🙏🏻 / Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

You walk hurriedly down a lavish corridor on the concourse level of Caesar’s Palace, trying to maintain some semblance of grace and propriety while desperately holding your showgirl costume against your chest to prevent it from falling. Your other hand clutches the costume’s feather fan prop and a sewing kit that one of the housekeepers mercifully offered you when you ran by. Nodding politely to guests as you pass, you hope against hope that the heavy sequin and beaded outfit, whose back clasp is currently broken, doesn’t slip and give any of these nice tourists a real show. All you have to do is make it to the employee change room to hopefully mend the garment, and afterwards go back to work with no one the wiser to your wardrobe malfunction.

Anxiety alleviating slightly as you round the corner towards the service elevator, your relief is short-lived when you see the elevator already waiting with its doors open and in it stands a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in celebratory Roman battle skirts of bright white and gold.

Dammit, not this fucking prick. Just what you need right now.

The salt and pepper curly haired Adonis spots you just as you do him, and you swear you see his jaw tighten and tick beneath his matching grey flecked scruff; eyes narrowing, he reaches forward and you can see him aggressively pressing the Close Door button.

“Oh no, you don’t,” you mutter, doubling your steps; the beads and pearls of your loosened outfit sway violently, making tiny music as you rush to slip between the doors of the elevator before they close.

The man glares at you and you glare right back, reaching past him to swipe your (well, your roommate’s) access badge before realizing the button for the basement floor you need has already been pressed. Great. You’re both going to the same place.

“General,” you greet him, sarcastic.

The General nods in acknowledgment, squaring back the shoulders of his impressive frame, somehow making him even larger and more intimidating than he already is, before wholly ignoring you, choosing to stare at the cold steel in front of him.

2 Days Ago

“Pleeeeeeasssseeeeeeee!” Your roommate is on her knees next to you on the couch, hands clasped in aggressive prayer, pouting and eyes pleading.

You sigh, “Arishat, what exactly are you even asking me?” You had heard and understood her perfectly the first time; you just want her to repeat it, hoping that upon hearing her own words out loud again, she’ll comprehend the absurdity of the favour she’s asking.

“You only need to give up your staycation for one day – and I’ll owe you forever,” her big brown eyes somehow growing twice in size.

Tilting your head, you give her an incredulous look but remain silent.

“Seriously, it’s no big deal! You know how the Strip is putting on Golden Days of Vegas events for the next two weeks to attract tourists? All the resorts are bringing back the glitz and glamour of classic Las Vegas – like a Rat Pack era vibe. Won’t that be fun?”

“MMmhmmmm,” you hum noncommittally. As locals, you and Arishat hardly even went to the Strip, but it did sound like a lot of fun for visitors to the city.

Not letting your lack of outward enthusiasm deter her, your roommate chippers on excitedly, “Anywaaays… Caesar’s Palace is going all out – hiring extra staff to be old school gladiator greeters, Cleopatra waitresses, and classic showgirls to wander the property! Think of all those glamourous Bob Mackie inspired costumes!”

“I bet the costumes will be gorgeous,” you indulge her a little, “but what does that have to do with me, babe?”

“Ummm… well, you know I booked the showgirl gig at Caesar’s…”

You did know.

“… but, Janet Jackson is considering extending her residency at Resorts World and is auditioning for background performers. And auditions just happen to be the first day of Golden Days!! I can’t do both! If I miss the first day at Caesar’s then I lose an entire two-weeks of work! But… babe!! It’s Janet!! How can I give up a chance to try and perform with her??!”

She can’t. You sigh again.

“So, you want me to be you for a day?”

Shuffling closer on her knees, Arishat, your bestest friend in the world who you know would move heaven and earth for you if needed, and who works harder than anyone to pursue her passions, takes your hands in hers, “I already have my ID card for Caesar’s – there’s no picture because we’re just temporary hires so it won’t matter what you look like. I also have the costume – it’s beautiful, you’ll love it. Please just fill in for me on the first day – it should be slow, mainly orientation, but I’m sure it’s just walking around the resort in groups and taking pictures with tourists… no performing or anything. And the next day I’ll take over - no one will know I wasn’t there the day before and I won’t get fired!”

Your head swims with uncertainty – unlike Arishat, you’re not used to being in the spotlight or working in the entertainment sector, much more comfortable in the anonymity of your office job; but you can’t say no to her. Closing your eyes and exhaling slowly, you let silence hang in the air for a second or two more, “Ok, show me the costume and tell me exactly what I have to do tomorrow.”

Her squeal nearly pierces your eardrum.

Yesterday

It’s not even 8 a.m. and you already regret agreeing to Arishat’s outlandish request. First, navigating the Strip’s backstreets to the Caesar’s Palace parkade had proven to be a near Herculean feat in patience and focus, taking twice as long as you had planned for. Now you’re stuck circling the parkade, crawling along at a snail’s pace in this concrete labyrinth trying to find the entrance to the employee’s parking lot.

Did they have to make it so hard to find? And why is this place so huge? There must be a million cars here.

Hands clutched tightly at ten and two, you’re hunched forward and squinting like an old lady, trying to read any and all signs in hopes that one of them will point you in the right direction. You’re pretty sure you’re lost. You know you’ve gone in this same circle at least twice.

Just when you think things couldn’t get worse, you spy a fast-approaching car in your rear-view mirror. Instead of passing, the other car practically kisses your bumper and proceeds to ride your ass as you meander the parkade looking for the employee entrance. And if you weren’t already unnerved, you see the driver of the car start to gesticulate wildly – throwing their hands up in the air, frustrated at your slow pace.

“Geez Louise,” you mutter, “just go around?”

But they don’t. They just keep right on your tail as you descend deeper and deeper into the lot. Mercifully, the parking gods take pity on you and you finally spot a small, discreet Employees ➡️ sign. After heading in the direction indicated, you’re rewarded with another identical sign; about to celebrate finally being on the right track, you hear it:

Honk.

What the fuck? Then again. Honk. Are you being honked at?

The car behind is still so obnoxiously close you can make out that the driver is a man whose eyes are making aggressive eye contact via your rearview mirror, and yes, he is in fact leaning on his horn.

Chill, dude. You narrow your eyes, certain the driver can see your annoyed expression, and continue at the same speed, unwilling to miss what you’re looking for just to appease some impatient stranger.

When you finally come upon a gated entryway with a hanging “Employees Only” sign above it, you can’t help but do a mini celebration dance in your seat; pulling forward, you roll down your window and swipe the ID card Arishat gave you last night over the access pad.

Nothing. The gate doesn’t lift and the card reader’s indication light blinks infuriatingly red.

Maybe you’re too far away. You unbuckle your seatbelt so you can lean out the window, stretching your arm out to wave the card over the reader again. Nothing. You try again. And again. Angling the card differently each time, but no matter what, the control pad won’t recognize your card.

The driver side door of the car behind yours opens and out steps the largest man you’ve ever seen. Impossibly broad, a wall of solid muscle whose physical prowess is evident in every stalking stride he takes towards your car, the imposing figure reaches your open window in just a few steps. Your eyes can’t help but stare at the monstrous hand that comes to a rest on top of the access box, nearly dwarfing the machinery with its size. Mouth agape and eyes wide, you follow the long line of the man’s equally massive arm to his face which has suddenly come into view.

The face is older, knowing, lined with resolve. Serious looking and anchored by a strong aquiline nose sitting perfectly between two piercing, espresso-rich eyes, the striking profile is bordered by scruffy but evenly trimmed facial hair that blends perfectly up into head of the same speckled chestnut and grey curls. It’s a face you might admire as handsome if it wasn’t scowling at you.

The intensity radiating off the man is making you nervous, “Oh! Hey, sorry… I don’t know what I’m doing wrong… it won’t register my card no matter how I try to sw-”

“Are you even supposed to be here?” a low, gravely baritone cuts you off.

Um, okay, rude. Unease evaporating, you hold up your temporary employee ID indignantly, “Yes, I’m here to work Golden Days.”

The man inspects your card with suspicion and sighs in exasperation before snatching your pass out of your hand. Okay, double rude.

He expertly presses the card right up against the reader and you see the light flash green before hearing the gears above the metal gate whirl to life. Wordlessly, the man hands you back your card and starts walking back to his car.

“Thank you!” you call out to his retreating back, but when he doesn’t even acknowledge you, you roll your eyes and your window, ready to drive forward as soon as the gate’s lifted high enough.

Upon entering the employee parking lot, you find a free space almost immediately - and close to the elevators to boot! Grinning that your luck has surely turned, you do a sharp left and back into the prime parking space – hooray! You’re just cutting your engine when you see your shadow pull to a stop right in front of your car with the driver, still glaring at you, making a double-handed open palmed gesture and yelling what you think is, Are you kidding me?

With a quizzical look tinged in agitation, you shake your head at him, What? As you step out of your vehicle, the man takes off at an aggressive speed, tires squealing as he races past the row of parked cars - but not before you see his upper lip curl up in a snarl.

What a jerk!

Just in case, however, you survey the space you’ve parked in while retrieving your things from the trunk – upon finding no reason not to park here, you quickly head over to the elevator bank, pressing your key card against the reader like you saw the man do at the lot gate to gain access. You’ve just stepped into the elevator when you hear the thundering footsteps of someone running towards the alcove before beeping in. Naturally, you hold the doors, but almost regret doing so when you see the glowering face of your new best friend. He’s staring at you with a look of pure, unadulterated loathing, the intensity of which is so shocking, you find yourself shaking a little as you swipe you card against the elevator reader, momentarily forgetting which floor Arishat told you to go to.

“You’re going to B4,” your elevator mate gruffs, roughly brushing his arm past yours to press the button.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly. Just because someone’s an impolite ass doesn’t mean you have to be as well.

The ride is eerily silent and oddly strained. Small talk is out of the question, obviously - but the tension is killing you. Just as you consider thanking the curmudgeon again for his help so far today, he opens his mouth.

“You took my parking spot.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re. Parked. In. My. Spot,” the man grits, barely moving his lips.

You’re confused, “There wasn’t a sign saying it was reserved?”

“Doesn’t matter. I always park there.”

And to think you were about to try and make nice? The man is being completely unreasonable; you look at him in disbelief, snapping, “Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?”

“Well, what do you know? You don’t know where you’re going, you don’t know how anything here works, and you certainly don’t know your place.”

The look on your face must register your utter shock at being yelled at by a total stranger, because for a second, the man’s stormy mocha eyes soften and flicker with something like regret. He opens his mouth, though nothing comes out.

“Well, I know that you’re the rudest, most entitled asshole I’ve ever met.”

The behemoth closes his mouth and glares at you. You glare right back. Neither of you breaks eye contact until the elevator reaches its destination with a ding.

As the doors open to the welcomed sound of people chattering, rushing around and going about their morning, the man gestures with dramatic flair, waving for you to go ahead, “Ladies first. Wouldn’t want to be rude.”

You walk out without a backwards glance, grateful that there’s clear signage indicating where the change room is so you can storm off without being seen asking for directions. That better be the last time you see that dillweed.

---

Turns out you would see him less than an hour later.

The change room had been bustling and chaotic but positively charged with excitement and supportive female energy. Happily, you know a few of the girls through Arishat and they really rally around you – helping tuck and adjust your showgirl costume, fixing your hair and touching up your makeup. Still feeling completely out of your element, you appreciate their efforts to soothe your anxiety, assuring you the embroidered fabric of your costume only appears sheer, but actually provides sufficient coverage and that you look the part of confident, show stopping entertainer.

Currently, your giggling group joins other showgirls, Egyptian queens and men dressed as gladiators in a small meeting hall, ready to get your assignments for the start of Caesar’s Golden Days.

A hush falls over the room as several people enter and get up on the raised platform at the front. Every one of the newcomers is dressed as a Roman gladiator, though their dress seems somewhat grander than those worn by the entertainment talent you’re sitting with. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the largest, most broad-shouldered figure; the breadth of the man fills out his battle armour of dark leather and metal without an inch to spare, a golden medusa on his chest plate gleams impressive, ready to leap out at real or imagined enemies. Dark leather skirts do nothing to hide the man’s wide, powerful thighs and you have no doubt that his arms are similarly burly, though they’re currently covered by a luxurious red cape with gold trim that fastens with authority at his thick neck.

Oh fuck.

It’s him. The muscular, drool-worthy snack you’re currently ogling is the same despicable cretin that made your morning a living hell. Then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, the man turns his head towards you, eyebrows cocking in recognition. His face morphs into what can only be described as a look of revulsion, eyes shooting daggers at you while his mouth pulls down in a frown of disgust. You flinch as if burned and look away quickly, remembering the sting of his earlier words.

Feelings of inadequacy rapidly resurfacing, you force yourself to blink back tears, grateful for when the orientation begins. The first presenter goes over the general purpose and expectation of your roles: walk predesignated routes around the property, meet and greet guests and tourists, pose for pictures, don’t break character, stay with your assigned group, use staff designated elevators and pathways to get back to staff only areas to keep up the “illusion” of your personas; it’s nothing Arishat hasn’t prepared you for.

What is unexpected is the aplomb with which the next speaker is introduced, “Even when he isn’t dressed like a Roman goliath, this is the man who keeps us all in line and all of Caesar’s Palace safe and for that we’ve always called him our General. Please welcome our fearless leader, Head of Security, General Marcus Acacius!!”

You roll your eyes upon seeing your parkade nemesis take the mic, annoyance grating in your chest until your heart drops into your stomach at a terrible realization. Marcus is the HEAD OF SECURITY. The very person whose radar you should definitely avoid lest he discover your falsified identity, is the very person you’ve managed to piss off and directly insult. Shit, shit, shit. If Marcus wanted, he could definitely get you, or rather Arishat, fired.

Panicking, you only half listen to Marcus’ remarks, barely registering the velvet honey of his baritone - commanding but so much more soothing than the indignant growl with which he addressed you earlier, “Members of my security team have been assigned to your groups to ensure that you all remain safe, that no guests or guest interactions cross any boundaries. We will be dressed as you see here, similar to those of you playing gladiators so that we blend in; one or more of us will always be with your group, don’t hesitate to come to us with any concerns. I myself will be walking all the routes and periodically checking in with each group. Please don’t be shy about bringing anything to my attention either. Thank you.”

After some applause, everyone gets up and starts filing towards the stage to get their group assignments. As you patiently wait your turn, trying to exude some of that extra confidence that your admittedly beautiful, embellished showgirl costume deserves, you resign yourself to a mature, unpleasant decision.

You’re going to apologize.

As much as it pains you to gratify yourself to this egotistical douche nozzle, you can’t risk messing up your best friend’s gig. Tracking Marcus with your eyes to gauge an appropriate time to approach, you’ve just step onto the raised platform when he happens to turn and look directly at you; seizing the opportunity, you step out of line and head towards him. To your complete mortification, the General immediately turns around and starts walking away. Dammit!

Quickening your steps, you attempt to catch up to his long strides that, if you were type to get paranoid about this sort of thing, you’d swear are speeding up at your approach. Practically breaking out in a jog, you call out as discreetly as you can, “Mr. Acacius! Wait, Mr. Acacius, I just want to – OOF!”

The titan halts and turns at the sound of your voice, but his unanticipated actions make him an immovable object to your unstoppable force as you crash with a thud into his towering mass. To make matters even worse, in an attempt to not topple over completely, you do a little side shuffle and inadvertently bring down the heel of your bedazzled shoe right onto Marcus’ sandalled foot.

“FUCK! OW – what the hell are you doing?!” the General roars and the entire room turns to stare at the commotion.

“Omigod, omigod, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to! Are you hurt? Omigod, I’m so sorry!” you’re babbling, contrite and embarrassed; if you thought you were going to cry before, that was nothing compared to how you feel right now.

Marcus’ face is menacing, grimaced with pain, “OF COURSE it hurts! You stomped on my foot for god’s sake. How are never where you’re supposed to be? Get back in line and get your assignment like everyone else!”

Thoroughly humiliated and afraid of doing any more damage, you back away without another word, scurrying to the assignment line while trying to make yourself as small as you feel. Afraid to look back, you miss the hard lines of the General’s face softening, looking like he might want to call after you before thinking the better of it and hobbling away.

---

Thankfully, the rest of your day passes uneventfully. The work is relatively straightforward, though tiring. As promised, the artisanal craftsmanship of your costume is a marvel, gorgeous but laden down with beads, gems, and pearls - it’s heavy. The matching heels, also stunning, start to pinch, dig, rub in all the usual places after hours upon hours of non-stop standing and walking. Unable to feel completely confident walking around in public in such state of dress, or undress rather, you happily let the other girls in your group shine, preferring to hang back and draw less attention to yourself. Unused to feeling so exposed or needing to be “on” for such a long stretch of time, your social battery and energy levels drop gradually over the course of the day.

To your relief, you hardly see Marcus, though as promised, he does check in with your group periodically. While you do try to stay out of his way, you can’t help but notice two things. The first is that he’s highly respected and obviously very good at his job; more than once you witness his team and other resort staff acknowledging and deferring to his authority and the quiet command of his expertise. He never barks orders or yell at anyone (just you, it seems), relying instead on confidence and a calm gravitas to charge his directives and fully control any situation. If you’re being honest, not only is it impressive, it makes you feel safe being under Marcus’ care.

The second thing you notice is that he’s limping.

You don’t dare attempt a second apology, though you doubt you’d be successful even if you were to try - the General appears to be taking great lengths to ignore you. He asks after every person in your contingent and acknowledges everyone personally except for you, going so far as to avoid all eye contact and even averting his gaze when he addresses the group as a whole. You suppose you can hardly blame him, but as the day goes on, it becomes harder and harder for your feelings not to be hurt by someone deliberately acting like you don’t exist; after an entire day of this exclusionary treatment, your irritation for the man reignites.

By the time you get back to your car, thankful for the end of your shift and the comfy sweats you’ve changed into, your feelings for Marcus Acacius have reverted to what they were when you were standing in this exact spot earlier this morning. You grab a pen and a pad of post-its from your purse; scribbling “RESERVED for THE GENERAL” in big letters, you slap the bright pink paper on the wall behind your car, glad that you’ll never have to see that egotistical perfect head of hair again.

Earlier Today

Damn you, Janet Jackson. You silently curse the five-time Grammy winner as you drive towards the Caesar’s Palace employee parking lot, finding it with more ease than you did yesterday.

Last night, bone-tired and mentally exhausted, you had come home to a giddy and nervous Arishat grinning like a cat who just ate the canary, chirping, “How did it go?!!!”

You had told a white lie and said it was fine. For all intents and purposes, it had gone fine. You chose to omit the details of how you managed to make a mortal enemy of Caesar’s Palace’s Bonehead of Security, figuring it wasn’t worth worrying her. Besides, what would it matter? Your roommate would take her rightful place in the Golden Days line up the next day and Marcus, esteemed General, would be none the wiser – likely even smug in the certainty that he had run you off, when in fact, you would be curled up on your couch with a book freshly plucked from your TBR. Win-win-win, right?

Wrong.

“Oh goodie!! Because… I need you to pretend to me again tomorrow?” Arishat worked her pleading eyes while telling you the exceedingly good news that she had secured a callback audition… for the next day. It was just one more day, you could do Golden Days for her for just one more day, right?

Of course, you had agreed – if the Rhythm Nation was calling, who were you to stand in your best friend’s way? Showering you with gratitude and massaging your tired feet while ordering your favourite Thai takeout, Arishat regaled you with the high points of her day: how iconic Miss Jackson herself was, which classic Janet jams were on the set list, the grandiosity of the show and of course… the cute boy she met who worked on production sets at Resort World. You rolled your eyes teasingly, happy for her.

That happiness has brought you here now, slowly rolling past your parking spot from yesterday, already occupied by what you recognize is Marcus’ car; you spot your bright pink post-it displayed prominently on his dash– guess he saw it.

Knowing that Marcus is already here rattles you more than you’d like, but your friends from yesterday soon help you shake off any nerves with their hype and excitement for the day. You head toward today’s briefing room with your group in good spirits, ready to jump start your energy levels with donuts and coffee from the complimentary snack table supplied by the hotel.

Though the donut selection looks to be fairly picked over by the time you get to the table, you do spot a lone crueller sitting on a tray in the middle of the spread. Hand outstretched, you’re just about to select your favourite donut when a beefy, gold bangle decorated arm darts in front of yours and snatches it. Taken aback, you chuckle, ready to jokingly (but not really?) fight this donut stealer, when your mood sours upon seeing who it is.

“You.”

Of course it’s Marcus. This man must have a sixth sense for ways to ruin your mornings.

When he turns to face you fully, you realize why you didn’t recognize him earlier - he’s not wearing the same dark leather gladiator armour from the previous day, but a crisp, white ceremonial ensemble that could be considered the day to yesterday’s night. Whereas the imposing burnt umber battlements he wore yesterday conjured images of battle charges and military campaigns, Marcus’ soft white costume today is more suited for ceremony and celebration. It’s gorgeously tailored, trimmed with gold tassels and embroidered laurels; adorning the chest plate are twin facing golden griffins signaling majesty and the splendor of victory – a sharp contrast to the attacking Medusa decorating the same torso yesterday. Draping the General’s shoulders is a heavy cape of the same material and embellishment, broadening his already hulking frame even more.

He looks stunning. And he’s still holding the last sugary glazed crueller between his thick fingers. You’re not sure which makes you lick your lips.

“Is there something you need?” the question is asked in confusion, as if the man simply cannot fathom why you’ve invaded his space yet again, snapping you back to the moment.

“That was my donut,” you deadpan, pride having given up wasting manners on a man who apparently deigns it unnecessary to show you any of his.

“There wasn’t a sign saying it’s reserved,” Marcus mockingly parrots back your words from yesterday about his parking space. Perhaps if you weren’t already seething from his previous treatment, you might spot the mischievous dance of his eyes and the slightly playful curve of his smirk, but all you see is a man who has antagonized you at every given opportunity choosing to be antagonistic yet again. Ass!

“Have it, General,” you snip back, abandoning your empty plate and stomping off towards the coffee. Finding the pots empty, you grab a package of fresh grounds and are just looking for a new filter when you see the swish of someone’s grand skirts in your peripheral before a mitt of a hand opens the top of the machine right in front of you.

“Here, let me g-”

Exasperated that you somehow cannot escape this man, you snap, harsher and louder than you mean to, “I might not know much, but I know how to make a new pot of coffee. So kindly, back off.”

A few heads turn towards your confrontation, further heightening your agitation; to his credit, Marcus takes the hint – holding his hands up in surrender, he tilts his head and purses his lips in bemusement before shrugging and backing away.

Finally, you huff. Still breathing heavily and heart pounding, you make coffee, trying to take your mind off of your latest altercation with the most infuriating man you’ve ever met.

Little did you know that your morning was about to get worse.

Your feet, still sore from yesterday, protest right off the bat at being stuffed back into their bedazzled prison for another day. Almost immediately, you begin wincing with every step – how does Arishat wear these types of shoes all the time?! Hope she doesn’t mind you returning these filled with blood – yeesh.

For some reason, the route your group takes today crosses the path of every lecherous creep that’s visiting Vegas this week. Old men and frat boys alike interpret the “op” in photo-op as an opportunity for their unwanted hands to wander; you and your fellow showgirls peel sweaty palm after sweaty palm that linger too long off your bodies, swatting away too bold hands that treat the beaded embroidery of your costumes like some type of sensory play. Your security team, and even the entertainers posing as gladiators, have to step in repeatedly to reprimand guests for their inappropriate behaviour. On two occasions, you would not have been surprised if fisticuffs had broken out.

Halfway through the morning, you were ready to quit both for yourself and Arishat. The only thing stopping you is the seriousness with which your security team is taking these transgressions; they consult you and the other girls on adjustments they’ll need to make in their approach to your safety and share the suggestions they’ll be bringing to General Acacius. Despite your dislike for the man, you trust that he will take swift action.

The real icing on this cake of a day, however, comes just before lunch.

Leaving the Venus Pool & Lounge, your group is on its way back through the Palace Tower when you hear a sharp snap right before a pop of air rushes down your backside. To your horror, the front of your costume, heavy with its intricately woven gemstones and garlands of threaded pearls, starts to slip downwards; a quick check by your friends confirms your fear that the clasp on the back of the garment has broken, and the only thing holding the bedazzled fabric to your body is your hands. With rising panic, you scrunch the fabric to your chest and hastily part from your team, desperately hoping you can make it back to the change room before inadvertently living out the cliché nightmare of being naked at work.

Present – Elevator ride

Still anxiously clutching your costume to your chest, you look anywhere but at Marcus - silently willing the elevator cab to speed up its infuriating slow descent; you’re convinced that every second that ticks by brings you closer to a humiliating loss in your battle against gravity.

If only there was muzak or something to distract you other than the grinding clicks of the elevator’s gear mechanisms percussing the steady breathing of a man that refuses to look at you. Oddly, you’re glad for his avoidance – you’re sure Marcus hasn’t noticed that you’re one hand slip from being half naked in front of him and the last thing you need is another scolding or scathing remark about how incompetent he finds you. Eyes darting over, you use the opportunity to study him without scrutiny.

It must be nice to have such a tailored to fit costume, you think, admiring. The white and gold costume looks made for the General, breastplate moulded to his thick trunk like plaster - how the hell is he so broad? Those shoulder tasseled sleeves and cape must have been custom measured – there’s no way that this man’s expansive wingspan is regular. The glorious drape of Marcus’ cape draws your eyes past the pleats of his victory skirt to his thick, muscular calves, practically exploding from his lace-up sandals. Sweet Moses.

It seems that no one told your libido that the rest of you abhors this man, because the weight of his practically oppressive stature in this confined space has you chewing your lower lip, struggling not to squirm in place. At least you’re not thinking about your broken costume anymore. There’s a good chance that you might have been caught mid-drool by the man himself if it wasn’t for a sudden loud screech of metal grinding against metal reverberating through the elevator. In shock at the piecing sound, you’re wholly unprepared when the lights start flashing and the carriage jerks violently to a stop.

Without warning, you’re thrown across the small metal box - Marcus, whose colossal mass has provided him more anchorage, reaches out to catch you before you crash unceremoniously into the mirrored wall. Your hands fly out to steady yourself on his firm shoulders, face pressed against the stability of his hard chest while your body instinctively folds into the safety of the General’s hold.

When the lights stop flickering and the elevator’s bounce has stilled, you search for Marcus’ eyes, finding them to be wide and full of concern.

“Are you okay?” the usually gruff baritone is warm but urgent.

Voice shaky and still in some shock, you blink and nod, “Yes. Thank you, Marc-”

You stop short when you hear the General’s sharp intake of air and see him quickly avert his eyes to look at the ceiling, “Um, your… uh, you seem to have… oh gosh… um…”

Confused by his sudden stuttering, you look down and with a gasp realize that when you reached out to grab onto Marcus for stability, you had let go of your costume – the embellished fabric has fallen and bunched up at your waist, leaving your top half completely exposed.

With a cry of mortification, you push off of Marcus, scrambling to pull up your costume and cover your naked chest. Marcus turns away to give you some privacy, then awkwardly spins when he realizes every inch of the elevator except for the doors is covered in mirrors; he finally settles busying himself with pressing various buttons on the panel. All the controls appear to be dead, including the call for help button.

Still not looking at you, the General mumbles somewhat helplessly, “Uh… the line is dead.”

This is too much.

You can’t help it - sinking down to the floor and crumpling as the stress of the day finally hits you, you start to softly cry. Your feet hurt. A bunch of neanderthals touched you today without consent. You’re not even supposed to be here, but you feel the stakes of doing a good job as much as if you were. You feel exposed and underdressed, and exhausted from being paraded into public as if you weren’t. You’re stuck in an elevator with a man who absolutely hates your guts. And you just flashed him.

It’s all just too much.

“Hey, hey now. Please don’t cry. Are you hurt?”

You shake your head violently, still unable to find your voice. Just my pride, you think.

“Is it because… I… hey, listen… I didn’t see anything, okay? You don’t have to cry about showing me… I didn’t see your… anything.”

Marcus crouches down and places his flexed, corded forearms on his knees, respectfully keeping his hands to himself but with his palms up in invitation. You look at him, eyes sad and expression dubious.

He sighs in admission, “Okay. I did see. But please don’t be embarrassed. I won’t commit anything I saw to memory, okay? Consider me having seen nothing.”

Marcus looks so timid, voice eager to reassure that you can’t help but crack a smile, “Are my tits really so forgettable?”

So relieved at this glimpse of your good humour, Marcus lets out booming laugh that shakes the entirety of his massive form before plopping himself down next to you on the elevator floor.

As the General settles in, you find yourself admiring his deep-set brown eyes - you’ve never seen them flecked with gold and crinkled in mirth like this, the sight causes a surge of affection in your heart and your shoulders untense at the feeling.

While he doesn’t answer your question, Marcus tries to offer some reassurance, “Even if we can’t call out, I assure you my team in the control room knows where we are and are already working on the issue. I’m sure the elevator will be fixed or help will be on the way shortly – you don’t have anything to worry about.”

You believe him. Even if the two of you have a primarily contentious relationship, you can’t deny that Marcus is immensely competent – he keeps eyes on and hands in everything at Caesar’s, you’ve seen him take prodigious care of even the smallest details when it came to the security and operations of the resort. If he tells you there isn’t anything to worry about, you trust that to be the case.

Nodding, you try to convey that you’re taking solace in his words, but you’re still holding yourself very small, clutching your costume as tightly to chest as you can. Marcus remains concerned, “Are you claustrophobic?”

You shake your head.

“Are you uncomfortable? Or… am I making you uncomfortable?”

Marcus looks so thoroughly ashamed, you attempt to lighten the mood with a little lighthearted self-deprecation, “Well aside from the anxiety of breaking the back clasp on my costume, I’m as comfortable as I could be having gotten half naked in front of a man who hates me.”

“I don’t hate you,” the General sounds surprised, but his statement is said with certainty.

“But,” you struggle to articulate that despite the way you may have spoken to him in the past, the comment wasn’t meant as an admonishment but known fact, “I took your parking spot. And I broke your foot.”

“Those were accidents.”

“You… yelled at me. Said I didn’t know anything. Made sure I knew you didn’t want me around you. You said I didn’t know my place,” despite the recollection of those incidents no longer bringing you the same amount of anguish as they did yesterday, you still hang your head sadly.

You hear a slight shuffling as the General scoots a little closer to you. Through the lashes of your downcast gaze, you see Marcus lift a hand, retract it hesitatingly before ultimately making up his mind to reach for you. A rough thumb and finger gently pinch your chin and direct your face upwards.

In a tone softer than you would have thought possible, Marcus atones, “The way I treated you yesterday, the things that I said… they were unkind, unwarranted, and completely unforgivable. I truly apologize.”

You cannot help but be touched by the sincerity you see etched all over his handsome face, the General’s soulful eyes pool with regret, shame, self admonishment. Having already been disarmed by the gentleness of his tenor and the tenderness with which he’s hovering over you, you melt further at Marcus’ obvious guilt and the earnestness of his confession; besides, you’ve never been one to kick a gorgeous man when he’s down, “I suppose neither of us have been at our best.”

“Perhaps not, but I was arguably worse, and while you didn’t say or do anything to me that I didn’t deserve, I can’t say the same for my treatment of you,” Marcus hangs his head, recalling again his harsh words and ungentlemanly behaviour, “Let me make it up to you, Little Showgirl.”

The seemingly out of nowhere pet name catches you completely off guard and your eyes shoot up to meet the General’s, for the second time in a minute you find yourself surprised by their expression – the large, imposing figure who you felt had personally terrorized you for the past two days looks almost… shy. Any remaining animosity you might have harboured, already fleeting from your rapidly warming feelings, evaporates at the look he’s giving you, “What did you have in mind, General?”

At your words, a heart stopping smile breaks out across Marcus’ face, stealing your breath – the weary lines of his face lift, crinkling near his eyes and around his mouth (is that a dimple you see?), softening and relaxing into that of a man ten years younger at least. Holding out his hand, Marcus offers, “I could mend your costume for you?”

Whatever you imagined he might say, it certainly wasn’t this; the idea is so sweet and considerate, helpful and… adorable. Now the one feeling shy, you sit silently on your knees and hand over the complimentary hotel sewing kit.

Marcus coughs as he starts to unravel the thread options, “Um, why don’t you turn around so I’m facing what needs to be sewn, and… I guess… adjust so that everything is where… I mean, the costume is how you want it to be? And then I’ll sew the back together so it stays that way?”

You nod in agreement, grateful for the General’s comprehensive assessment and swift decision-making skills in even the most obscure of circumstances. Shuffling to get into the suggested position, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together at how good it feels to let Marcus take charge of you.

After adjusting your costume to where you want it, you sit patiently and watch in the mirror as Marcus threads the needle, squinting and focusing so hard his tongue pokes out the side his mouth.

He catches you watching in the mirror and gives you an apologetic look, “Don’t have my reading glasses on me.” Goddamit, the man is even more precious than he was previously infuriating.

“Do you want me to tie the knot?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Marcus sheepishly relents, “here, let me put it directly in your hand so you don’t drop your costume… again.”

You might have retorted something cheeky if it wasn’t for the warmth of the General’s chest enveloping your back and his muscular arms encircling your body to hand you the needle; he’s so close that his breath dances lightly at the nape of your neck, causing the hair there to stand up - your body gives a little shiver. If Marcus notices, he doesn’t let on, instead holding his posture steady and protective while you expertly tie the double knot needed at the end of the thread. When it’s ready, you hold it out for the General to pluck from your waiting hand; afterwards, you look down to adjust yourself again, unaware of Marcus’ covetous gaze as he watches you in the mirror.

Once you’re satisfied, he pulls the fabric taut across your back and gets to work.

For a few minutes, Marcus works in silence; unwilling to disturb his focus, you stay as still as possible and amuse yourself watching this big, strong hulk of a man and his dainty sewing, his eyes soulful and lower lip being bitten in deep concentration for this nimble task.

Once satisfied with the foundation stitches he’s sewn, Marcus’ grip on your costume slackens, as does his tongue - somberly, Marcus speaks, “I’m very sorry again, Little Showgirl. I know it’s no excuse for my behaviour, but I was having a bad morning when we met – through no fault of yours. My building was having maintenance issues, so my alarm clock got reset and I woke up late. Then there was no hot water and, if you can believe it or not, this is not the first elevator I’ve been stuck in in the last 48 hours.” He heaves a deep sigh and your eyes soften with sympathy, “That’s all to say I was already running ridiculously late when I drove up behind you and I forgot my manners in my frustration and anxiety. The truth is, I’ve spent the better part of the past few months dreading Golden Days.”

You tilt your head in understanding, “I’m sure it’s a lot of extra work for you and your team. I can only imagine all the extra pressure you’re under.”

Marcus’ eyes find yours in the mirror and relaxes at their sincerity, “It is a lot. There are a ton of additional logistical factors to consider, and every variable brings with it security risks that I’m responsible for assessing and planning for.” He drops his eyes back down to his task, hiding in anticipation of his next confession, “But all of that comes with the job, nothing my team and I haven’t handled before. What I really wasn’t looking forward to is… wearing this stupid costume.”

Your eyes widen at this unexpected revelation: Big Bad General, venerated and trusted by the entire resort to keep the ship right, flustered at having to wear a costume? One that makes him look like an ancient god?

“I know it’s the antithesis of where I work, but I’ve never felt comfortable with all the glitz and pomp of the Strip. I love my job precisely because it’s behind the scenes, things run smoothest when me and my team escape detection. Now, for two weeks, we’re being paraded around in the most ostentatious costumes I’ve ever laid eyes on – I can’t tell you how off-putting it feels to be nervous about coming into work, to do a job I’ve had for years, that I excel at. All because I know I’m going to look dumb as hell doing it. Just one more thing I unfairly took out on you, Little Showgirl. I’m sorry.”

If only Marcus knew just how much you relate to feeling out of place in these costumes, “Oh Marcus, that’s all completely understandable. I’m sure I did absolutely nothing to abate your anxiety or frustrations with my own behaviour.” Marcus opens his mouth to interrupt but you shake your head slightly and continue, “I know you’re going to say it wasn’t my fault, and while that might be technically true, I can’t help but feel terrible for making your day worse than it already was. I’m sorry as well. I hope you can forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Little Showgirl.”

The two of you lock eyes and fix a look of mutual fondness upon one another in the mirror before you each look away, bashful. Now that you’re no longer worried that Marcus harbours ill will towards you, you can’t help but be a little playful with the decidedly serious General – certain that beneath his gruff exterior is a kind natured and good-humoured man, “So you don’t hate me, but you were going to close the elevators door on me?”

“I was pressing the Open Door button!”

You giggle at the indignation in the General’s response and press on, “What about avoiding me all day yesterday? Even when you’d check in on our group, you never spoke to me or asked how I was doing, even though you would ask everyone else? And when you did acknowledge me, even in the assignment room, you looked at me like I infuriated you. Or disgusted you? Or both? I know I’m not the most glamourous girl working Golden Days, but did you just find me… unacceptable?” You try to keep your tone playful, but now that you’ve given voice to the words, you realize there’s still a small part of you that’s stung by the memory of Marcus’ treatment.

He must sense your trepidation, because you see his broad shoulders slacken in the mirror, regret once again lining his face, “Oh shit. I didn’t realize that you’d- Fuck. I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings, Little Showgirl. The truth is, I couldn’t look at you without feeling utterly ashamed at how I had spoken to and treated you earlier. If you read my expression as being Infuriated and disgusted – you were right, but not at you, with myself. I hope the way I’ve purported myself in the last twenty minutes or so has shown you that I’m not some pompous asshole who enjoys tearing people down; my behaviour towards you yesterday is the opposite to how I strive to conduct myself. Seeing you reminded me of how abhorrent I was. I never considered that my own self contempt could be taken in the way you described but that’s one more thing I must atone for. I’m sorry again.”

Marcus’ apology is more heartfelt and self effacing that you would have thought possible from a man you were convinced was a self-important righteous jerkoff less than an hour ago. Thoroughly disarmed by the way he appears contrite and genuinely remorseful, your heart reaches for the man, wishing to soothe his apparent distress.

Before you can think of something comforting to say, Marcus continues, “I apologize again if my behaviour ever made you feel otherwise, because you should know that you look beautiful. I’ve thought so from the moment I first laid eyes on you - you’re the prettiest little showgirl I’ve ever seen.”

Still unable to put together the words, your cheeks warm and you blink appreciatively at the compliment. Marcus receives your reaction with a boyish eagerness, hoping it conveys your forgiveness; giving you another small smile in the mirror, he returns to his sewing.

For a few minutes, you let Marcus work in silence as you contemplate him. By now, you’re prepared to admit that you had previously judged the stunning man behind you too harshly; despite his confident and commanding presence, you’ve seen now that he’s hard on himself and not immune to insecurity – perhaps you can help remedy that a tad with a confession of your own.

“Marcus?”

The General acknowledges you with a hum even as his eyes remained focused on the work.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think the Roman gladiator armour looks dumb. I think you look really good in it.”

This catches Marcus’ attention and he looks up, “You really think so?”

“Um, yeah,” you say, suddenly shy, “It makes you look really… formidable and authoritative – not that you need any help in those areas, but the costume really amplifies your qualities. The battle arena one you wore yesterday? You looked like a brickhouse. I think every gladiator who’s working Golden Days wished they looked half as good as you did.” You’re trying to pick your words carefully so not to objectify the poor man, but you really want Marcus to understand that the idea he might not look good in this regalia is outrageous, “And this ceremonial one you have on today… it’s, excuse my language, fucking glorious. You look regal, impressive and… so big. Honestly, you look hot in it, General.”

Vulnerable soft eyes meet yours in the mirror, holding your gaze as if to ascertain whether or not you’re being serious; you give Marcus your most sincere look and earnestly nod as if to say, Yes, you are hot, and he responds with a nearly inaudible whisper, “Thank you.”

Suddenly a sharp, searing pain pierces your back and you yelp in pain. Marcus starts at your cry and upon seeing the agony on your face, looks down to find that he’s poked you with the sewing needle and withdraws it quickly, “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Frantically dropping the needle, Marcus gently rubs his large, rough hand over the pinprick wound, “Does it still hurt? I’m so sorry, Little Showgirl.”

The pain having now subsided and further soothed by Marcus’ warm touch, you nod reassuringly, “It doesn’t hurt – I’m okay. Just surprised me is all. But we’re even now for your foot, right?”

Marcus looks up to see your cheeky grin - entire countenance relaxing, he chuckles, “Yes, we’re even now.” He goes back to sewing.

Pleased as punch with your own merrymaking, you go back to eyeing the man still working diligently to help you fix your wardrobe malfunction. With growing affection and, if you’re honest with yourself, attraction, you wonder again at how you could have pegged him for a self-centred jackass. Though the air of his importance and authority remains, you know now just how earned and well deserved it is. Far from being arrogant and pompous, Marcus is self aware, sensitive and not at all conceited – qualities that have raised him high in your esteem over the last half hour or so.

It's evident what a hard worker he is – his drive and competency, fuel for the already sparking fire low in your belly. Your heart swells thinking of the immense pressure he puts upon himself to uphold what he considers to be honour, decorum – you wish you could take some of it off those broad, generous shoulders of his. How would his near mythical wingspan look looming over you on your knees, ready and willing to give him some well-deserved respite from the weight of his duty by taking his monster co-

“All done,” Marcus announces, biting the thread before standing up to offer you a hand. As the General gently hauls you to your feet, your other hand flies up to your chest, expecting the fabric to fall away from your body – but to your delight, it doesn’t move. Lowering your hands tentatively, you feel the fit of the garment around your bust, waist and then hips – it appears secure, you beam, “This is perfect – thank you so much, Marcus.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ll think it’s perfect when you see the sewing job, but it should hold and get you through to the end of the shift.” Chuckling to himself, he watches fondly as you do a little test shimmy, beads and pearls jingling and dancing over your curves. Smoothing down the embellishments so that they still, you feel Marcus’ gaze and cross your arms over your body for a bit more coverage, embarrassed at the impropriety of your earlier thoughts.

Misreading your discomfort, Marcus offers gently, “I mean it, you know? You look gorgeous. Beautiful.” He fiddles with decorative enamel broach that holds his white cape at his collar bone, unclasping and removing it in one gallant sweep. “However, if it makes you feel more comfortable,” he carefully drapes the luxurious fabric around your shoulders, wrapping you in it completely, “you can wear this.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” fully cloaked and cozy, you soak in the sweet gesture and Marcus’ compliment, breathing in the linger of his heady cologne on the garment.

The two of you stand looking at one another in silence - the warmth of the moment, full of fondness and affection, filling the small elevator. If someone had told you this morning that you would feel a deep appreciation and attraction to this man you had sworn to loathed, you would have said they were delusional. But now, you can’t even remember what you felt before, never mind why.

You want to repent and laugh, apologize some more – though you know he would never allow it. Shifting shyly foot-to-foot, thinking of what you want to say, you suddenly feel the pinch of your shoes again, “Do you mind if I sit? These shoes look great but they’re killing my feet. I should probably stay off of them for as long as I can before I have to go out again.”

Marcus joins you once again on the floor of the elevator, amused at the exaggerated sigh of relief you exhale as you start arching your feet and wiggling you toes after you remove the glamourous but offensive footwear.

“May I?” he gestures at your pointing feet. At your little nod of permission, the General lays your aching feet in his lap and uses his big strong hands to massage and grip your arches. His strength targets all the right pressure points so that relief is immediate. You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes when he spreads his fingers around your heels and rubs tight little circles that nearly have you moaning, this is heaven.

“So,” Marcus gulps when he sees the pleasure overtaking your face, feeling himself harden beneath his battle skirts, “Aside from hurting feet, your costume breaking, and a horrid man terrorizing you, has the rest of your day gone alright?

Your eyes open to his affectionate grin, “Oh! It’s been okay.”

He wouldn’t be good at his job if he couldn’t read people and Marcus tilts his head curiously at your answer. Though you could downplay today’s events, the General makes you feel safe enough to not want to, “Well, we had some… trouble.”

“Tell me.”

Even if you didn’t understand that he genuinely wants to know, the authoritative tone of his voice compels you to obey. You think you would do anything that velvet baritone asked of you, and that thought alone sends a shooting pang straight to your clenching core. So, you tell Marcus everything about the harassment and unwanted physical contact that you and your group encountered today; as you see the General’s eyes darken at the details, you hurry your storytelling to make sure he doesn’t blame his men, “Your team did a great job taking care of us and have already been strategizing on how to prevent these situations going forward. They were great, really. You run a good group.”

Marcus smiles at your sweetness, “Thank you. I trust they did their best, and I’m certain they won’t be happy until we come up with new protocols to make things safer - everything will be discussed with the needed changes in place by tomorrow. I promise you won’t have to worry about the same type of things happening when you come in tomorrow, Little Showgirl.”

Warming again under Marcus’ term of endearment, you decide that you owe him the same level of honesty and sincerity that he’s shown you, “That’s reassuring, Marcus - thank you, but I’m not coming in tomorrow.”

“What? Why not? Did you quit because of me?”

You nearly laugh out loud at the panic in the General’s voice, though his crestfallen look and obvious disappointment make your stomach do an inadvertent flip, “No, no, Marcus, of course not.” The tank of a man before you practically deflates with relief – it’s endearing. Time to come clean. “Since you already hate me,” you tease, pausing only at Marcus’ grumbled interjection of I don’t hate you, “I suppose I might as well tell you the truth.”

Marcus cocks his eyebrow quizzically as you confess your true identity and the reason you’ve been pretending to be in the resort’s employ these past two days. Even as you finish with how your roommate will be done her callback by the end of day and that tomorrow, she would be here to take her rightful place for Golden Days, Marcus still hasn’t said a word.

Pulling your feet from Marcus’ soothing grip, you reposition yourself on your knees and shuffle over to the General, thigh to thigh, face to face, worried, “Have you changed your mind about hating me?”

Seeing that true concern laces your pretty face, Marcus gently takes one of your dainty hands in his and raises it to his lips; placing one soft kiss to your knuckles, he proclaims, “Never.”

You’re melting.

Confidence now partially restored by the tenderness of his gesture, you use the hold Marcus has on your hand to pull yourself closer, teasing glint in your eye, “So, now that I’ve confessed the truth to you, are Arishat and I in trouble?”

“Well, technically, you committed identity fraud,” Marcus starts, pretending to look serious for only a second before letting his expression transform into one of mischief, “But seeing how you didn’t have any nefarious intentions… I guess I can look the other way. Plus, you flashed me, so consider your penance paid.”

Your melodic laugh echoes off the walls of the elevator and Marcus’ heart swells at the loveliness of the sound. “Thank you. I appreciate your confidence that I’m not planning some kind of casino heist,” hand still holding his, you let your smile curve flirtatiously, “You really are very sweet, General.”

The mountainous man scoffs good-naturedly, “Don’t tell anyone, you’ll ruin my tough guy reputation.”

“It’ll be our little secret - just between us,” grinning, you peer at him coquettishly through your lashes, “Like what I look like underneath this costume.”

“Just between us,” Marcus swallows hard.

“Are you thinking about me half naked right now, General?”

“Yeah, I am,” he breathes, right before crashing his mouth to yours.

Oh. Marcus kisses like his professional moniker suggests: precise, unrepentant, powerful. You push back with the same assertiveness against his lips and tongue, tangling your breath with his, trading in his air. Without breaking the kiss, Marcus hooks his sculpted arm around your waist, cupping the plush of your ass in just one of his bear paws, he hauls you into his lap; you land with a giggly bounce, straddling one of the General’s thick thighs. Your hands reach up to cup Marcus’ face, scratching through his well-groomed scruff while you nip and nibble at his lower lip; your chest burst with a school girl giddiness when you feel him smile at your kitten attack.

Beneath the cover of his cape, Marcus’ rough hands roam your body, trailing his thick fingers up and down the curve of your spine, making you whimper at the reverence of his touch. Wide palms find the fat of your thighs and grip you with such want that you yelp and test the General’s hold with a roll against his leg that has him moaning your name down your throat. You think you could drown in the sounds of this man falling apart beneath you. Leaving his lips involuntarily, your body bows at the grip Marcus bruises on your body, whining as he kisses along your jaw, groaning, almost to himself, “So fucking soft.”

Hard hands travel to your waist with the discipline of a trained soldier, heavy palms working your soft flesh through your costume while a hungry mouth licks and snipes a path of pleasure from your ear down your neck that has you gasping and squirming.

“Marcus, please!” you cry out, voice hushed and desperate as the General’s hot breath rolls across the expanse of your throat. He smirks at your neediness, greedy hands massaging their way up to your tits.

“Gonna mark you up, so everyone knows you’re mine. If anyone tries to touch you again, they’ll have to answer to me,” Marcus growls against the sweet spot at the bottom of your neck, sending your head spinning with his possessive tone and the hard suck of his mouth.

With Marcus’ hands now cupping your breasts, your hips are free to rock and grind on the flex of his muscular thigh – through the layers of fabric, the texture from the beaded details of your costume heighten the sensation from your movements on your drooling cunt. You can feel just how wet you are by the slick glide of your folds in your panties as your costume catches roughly over Marcus’ leg.

Marcus’ mouth finds yours again, you kiss him back furiously – your tongue slides against his, eager to show him just how much you want him, need him. He licks into your mouth and you swallow his throaty groans, answering them with your own half formed moans that he steals right back.

“You make the prettiest noises, Little Showgirl,” he purrs, hands kneading and groping your heaving breasts over the front of your costume. You’re practically bucking now, about to beg again, for what you don’t even know when Marcus’ talented fingers zero in on your already pert and aching nipples, finding them with ease and giving each peak a punishing pinch and tug.

You quake and howl, the crisp sting sending a thrumming wave of ecstacy to every nerve ending in your body. Yanking harshly on Marcus’ soft waves, you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer still, melding your lips to his and sucking on his tongue while your hips gyrate and swivel, seeking more pressure and friction. Reading your cues perfectly, Marcus bends his knee slightly to give you more purchase and you lay a hot trail of open mouth kisses from the corner of his mouth along his chiseled jawline in gratitude.

“You’re killing me, baby.” Baby. The new pet name is exalted with a strained groan – what you would have interpreted as exasperation less than 24 hours ago is now delicious music to your ears, proof that you’re affecting the beast of a man beneath you as much as he is you. You chuckle breathy and satisfied into the shell of Marcus ear, “Payback.”

The General’s response to your smug retort is to bite down on your shoulder, just hard enough to jolt you hard against him, dragging your needy pussy down the length of his thigh. He smirks as he laves his tongue over the imprint of his teeth on your skin, soothing it while you whinny above him like feisty filly yearning to run free. Bear paw hands continue to grab and squeeze your tits, pushing and pulling all your supple curves so that they mould to his palms, fingers tuning your sensitive nipples to try to find his favourite song: the one you’re singing in gasps, the sole lyrics his name in repetition, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.

“Wish I could just rip this costume off your pretty body and see those perfect tits of yours again. Sew it back up after I take those cute little nipples in my mouth and suck on them until you scream. Would you let me do all that, Little Showgirl?” The General nips and snarls behind your earlobe, inhaling the sweetness of your perfume that’s wafting as your lap dance picks up speed, intensity.

“Yes, Marcus, yes! I’d let you do anything to me.”

Oh, he likes that. Marcus drops a hand down to your ass and gives your bouncing cheek a sharp spank that sends you tumbling towards the edge of bliss, “Anything?”

You can barely string together a thought separate from the pleasure Marcus is giving you with his hands, his thigh, his mouth, but you manage to eek out a weak, “Anything.”

“You going to let me help you come?”

Nearly crumpling at Marcus’ dark tone, your head flops forward in a semblance of a nod.

Marcus’ hands grasp onto the meat of your hips and restrict your rhythmic movements against his leg – you whine in protest.

“Need you to use your words, Little Showgirl.” There it is again: the authority and command of his velvet voice; your cunt clenches, infuriatingly empty. Panting and breath short, your eyes shine with desperation as your mouth slackens into a perfect prayerful O-shape that makes Marcus hiss, “Yes, please, Marcus! Please help me come!”

Though he loves the sound of your sweet voice begging, Marcus is already far enough gone for you that he knows he would never deny you anything. Fingertips digging into the globes of your ass, Marcus holds your hips firm and begins to saw you back and forth over his thigh, pressing you down while driving up his leg in order to ignite an electrifying connection with your cunt that you couldn’t have reached on your own.

Marcus handles you with the precision and skill with which he executes every assignment he undertakes; every pull and push builds you higher and higher, the breath stealing rhythm he keeps makes you gush - your pussy, slick with arousal sails smoothly over Marcus tensed muscles, throbbing as the familiar band in the pit of your stomach coils tighter.

He’s all power and strategy, reading the ecstasy that paints your face like a map and orchestrating a building pace and intensity in his handle on your body so that your orgasm becomes an inevitability. Euphoria blooming, you give yourself over to Marcus completely, trusting your pleasure in his capable hands.

“Oh, god, right there, General…”

“You can’t call me that, baby. Or the next time one of my men calls me General, I’m going think of you. Like this. Bouncing and grinding in my lap, looking so fucking pretty.”

“Ngh, fuck! General…”

“Baby, what did I just say.”

You moan and goad him more, “… Acacius…”

Sucking the delicate skin at the base of your neck in between his teeth, Marcus hisses.

“Sir,” you draw out the last sound, rolling it from the back of your throat like a filthy hymn.

“Shit. My naughty little showgirl, you’re perfect. Never going to let you go.” The General crashes his lips to yours once more, desperate, messy. Your hands reach for those broad shoulders again, holding on tight as you work in tandem with Marcu’s control of your body, finding that if you tilt your hips just so, the pressure of his thigh’s arch against the trimming of your costume catches your clit just right. You break the kiss with a cry, the explosive pulsing from your overstimulated pearl rocketing you towards your summit.

“I’m so close, Marcus,” you rasp, back arching and bucking wild as you chase your release. Awestruck by your desire wracked expression, Marcus pledges himself to your pleasure – rocking and guiding you to exactly where you need to be. Everything tightens as you ride, clit brushing and flicking over that secret spot of your costume over and over and over.

“Take what you need, Little Showgirl,” grits Marcus against the column of your throat. He nuzzles against every little hitch of your airway and sucks down the ambrosia taste of your skin, “Anything that’s mine to give is yours. Let me give you everything, my lady.”

You explode with a sharp wail of the General’s name, coming so hard that you see stars. Your orgasm rips through your body and it’s all you can do to hold onto Marcus, fingernails marking crescent moons into his shoulders through the luxurious fabric of his Roman costume. Marcus gladly takes over, holding you through your high, safe and comforting as he continues to move you gently back and forth over the breadth of his thigh, thumbs drawing soothing circles over your hips as your shaking subsides. You slump against his hard chest, completely fucked out.

Marcus’ hands caress your back, rubbing up and down your spine in a calming fashion to bring you back to yourself. Hooded eyes lifting just enough to meet his gaze – your stomach flutters upon finding the General’s expression to one of awe and care; you’re so grateful and sated, about to say so when suddenly the elevator shudders harshly, lights flickering as the machinery above whirls back to life and you resume your descent.

Eyes widening at the unexpected movement, the two of you scramble off one another and onto your feet, though Marcus, ever the gentleman, remains on his knees for a little while longer to help you slip your feet back into your shoes.

He comes to a stand by your side and pulls you close, tucking you under the safety of his wing. That feeling of gratitude for his care surges through you again as you snuggle in tight.

“You okay, Little Showgirl? Do you need a minute?”

You look up at Marcus to find his affection for you evident in the lines of his handsome face - it makes your heart skip a beat; you nod, eyes still glassy, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing faintly in your core. The strength of the General’s arm curves around your waist, tightening and helping you forward as the elevator doors finally open.

You’re immediately met by a member of Marcus’ security team - a strapping man in gladiator dress that you vaguely recognize from yesterday’s morning briefing.

“General, glad you’re okay, sir. I can give you a brief rundown on what’s happened.”

To your surprise, instead of letting you go so he can confer with his lieutenant, Marcus pulls you closer and tucks you under his chin, letting you rest against his chest. You close your eyes, comforted by the soothing rumble of Marcus’ baritone as it vibrates though his chest.

“Tell me.”

“There was a complete outage of service elevators in all the towers: Forum, Palace, Julius, Octavius, and Augustus – all simultaneous. Call lines dead, no camera footage. A little over half of the elevators were occupied when the disruption took place. They’ve all come back online since, successively – Palace is the last. You were stuck for 47 minutes.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“We’re still getting reports in but everyone accounted for is unharmed and doing alright. I’ve taken the liberty of assuming you would want to give everyone impacted an early lunch and asked them to come see the resort doctor in the employee briefing room.”

“Good work, Darius. Please ready a full debrief for me in the control room - I’ll be there momentarily.”

Even after Darius’ footsteps fade away, Marcus keeps you close and continues tending to you, dispensing soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, lips. The two of you stay in a tender embrace until your heartbeat slows to normal and your breathing evens.

Kiss. “Little Showgirl.” Kiss. “I know this is terribly backwards.” Kiss Kiss. “But if you’re free after your shift tonight.” Kiss. “Could I take you out to dinner?” Kiss Kiss Kiss Kiss Kiss.

“I would love that, Marcus.” Kiss.

Beaming, you step back and unclasp the brooch of the victory cape that you’re still wearing; unfurling it from your body, you giggle as Marcus bends at the knee so you can swing it over his shoulders. After refastening the pin, you pat and smooth down the luxurious fabric over the General’s broad frame, humming with satisfaction at how splendidly the breathtaking man wears it.

“Thank you, my lady,” Marcus proclaims, his good humour delighting you, “May I meet you here at six?”

Nodding, you place your palms gently on the golden griffins that span the front of Marcus’ Roman ceremonial dress, scratching your nails just deep enough so he can feel you on his chest, “Yes, please. Are you going to be wearing this?”

“I don’t know, are you going to be wearing this?” Marcus reaches out to run a finger lightly over a row of pearls that decorate your collar bone.

Supressing a shiver, you shoot back, “I could be? I don’t know what you did back there – I might not be able to take it off.”

Leaning in, Marcus lets his breath ghost over your ear as his whispers low, “I could help you take it off.”

Catching the dark and mischievous glint in the light of his eyes, you pretend to be scandalized, “General!” Smirking a little when you see Marcus inhale at your teasing use of his professional handle, you grab him by the fabric of his rich, sweeping cape and pull him back in, crushing your lips to his. Marcus’ tongue darts out to match you move for move, stroke for stroke, licking deep and chasing you to the furthest corners of your mouth. You let him catch you before withdrawing, leaving him chasing after your plush pout with a nibble and tug of his delectable lower lip. Giggling, you wink at the General’s puppy dog expression before turning on your heels to head off to the change room, putting a little extra sway in your hips as you saunter away, pearls and beads clinking a seductive melody that calls to Marcus like a siren.

Before he knows what’s come over him, his hand connects with the underside of your ass cheek, the consequence of his spank jiggling the plushness of your rear as you yelp in delight.

You keep on walking, throwing over your shoulder, “Hope you’re prepared to pay for that later, General.”

Chuckling, Marcus starts heading towards the security office, discreetly adjusting himself beneath the skirts of his Roman costume, knowing that you see him doing so by the crescendo of your sweet laughter, “I’m counting on it, Little Showgirl.”

NP Tagging a few people who encouraged me so kindly on my WIP Wednesdays for this fic - thank you bbs 😘: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @letsgobarbs @inept-the-magnificent @milla-frenchy

@sawymredfox @ace-turned-confused @evolnoomym @secretelephanttattoo @sunnytuliptime

@galway-girlatwork @itwasntimethatdidit40 @iamladyp @tuquoquebrute

#47minutesinheaven #marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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magic-shop-stories · 9 days ago

Note

lazy morning sex bts headcanons please i beg of you 😭

💌 Reply:

hiiii, there 💜 THANK YOU for this request (and for your patience! life’s been a too much lately (well actually just uni assignments and exams) 😭). I hope these headcanons hit the vibe you wanted - if not feel free to reach out again and say the word... ANY FEEDBACK HERE IS GOLD!!! full disclosure: I’m still finding my footing with writing explicit stuff (my anxiety is like pls no explicit, so i tried to focus on the vibes... I mean it's not like I can't write it, but I am a bit afraid to share publicly) – c –💜

BTS x Lazy Morning Intimacy Headcanons

↳ BTS x f!reader

Pairings: OT7 x fl!Reader (Romantic) Rating: PG-13 (T) Genre: fluff, romance, domestic slice-of-life Warnings: None (mild implied intimacy, affectionate touching, kisses, cuddling, non-explicit)

KIM NAMJOON

= Slow, Thoughtful, and Deeply Connected

MOOD

quiet, rain-soaked mornings

the kind where time feels suspended

gray light filters through linen curtains

world outside hums softly

his energy is unhurried/ reverent

isn’t about urgency

it’s about presence

savors the intimacy like a rare first edition

turning each moment into a page to be annotated

HOW IT STARTS

you stir awake

the weight of his arm draped over your waist

his chest pressed gently against your back

his lips brush the nape of your neck

= warm and lingering

“Good morning, universe.”

murmurs, voice sleep-rough and soft

hand trails down your arm

fingers intertwining with yours

“Don’t move yet. Just… let me be here.”

PACE

deliberate and unhurried

takes his time mapping your skin with his fingertips

= as if memorizing every freckle/ every curve

his touches are purposeful

thumb grazing your hipbone

palm splayed over your ribcage

his breath steady against your shoulder

believes in process/ the beauty of unfolding

TOUCH

Hands

calloused from writing

gentle in their exploration

traces the dip of your spine like it’s a stanza he’s trying to decipher

Lips

presses kisses to your shoulder blades, your temples, pulse point of your wrist

= each one a quiet affirmation

Forehead

rests his against yours

eyes closed

breathing synced

“This… this is my religion...”

deep whispers

SOUNDS

rustle of sheets

= when he shifts to cradle your face in his hands

low, content hum

= when you card your fingers through his hair

“Feels like… home...”

his voice barely audible

soft, fragmented phrases in Korean and English

“You’re so… god, you’re perfect… 어떻게 이렇게 아름다워…”

THINGS HE SAYS

Poetic Praise

“Your skin tastes like stardust. Did you know that?”

Gentle Teasing

“You’re stealing all the blankets. Again. Should’ve written a clause in our contract.”

Raw Honesty

“I don’t know how I got so lucky. To have this… to have you.”

AFTERCARE

brings you a steaming mug of honey-lemon tea

a book of Mary Oliver poems

reads aloud while you curl into his side

his free hand stroking your hair

drapes his oversized hoodie over your shoulders

kissing your forehead

“Wear this. It’s… softer with you in it.”

opens the window to let in the rain-scented air

“Today’s agenda: Nothing. Just… us.”

note: would 100% accidentally knock over a lamp mid-moment, laugh into your neck, and whisper, “Priorities.”

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

= Playful, Affectionate, and Full of Laughter

MOOD

golden, sunlit morning

air feels like a warm hug

Jin’s energy is bright and mischievous

blending tenderness with his signature humor

it isn’t just intimacy

it’s a celebration

= a chance to laugh, tease

remind you why he’s Worldwide Handsome (inside and out)

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to the sound of him humming

his fingers softly drumming a rhythm on your hip

pokes your cheek, before you can open your eyes

“Yah, sleeping beauty! Rise and shine... or I’ll start without you.”

his grin is audible as he nuzzles your ear

breath tickling your skin

“Just kidding. Oppa’s too nice to leave you behind.”

PACE

leisurely but lively

no rush

he’s here to enjoy the moment

= like a chef savoring his favorite dish

alternates between playful teasing and sudden sincerity

keeping you on your toes

one minute he’s blowing raspberries on your shoulder

next he’s cupping your face like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen

TOUCH

Hands

warm and confident

tracing idle patterns on your back

tousling your hair

“Softest human ever. Are you sure you’re not a cloud?”

Lips

plants exaggerated, smacking kisses on your nose, forehead, cheeks

“Stamp of approval. Now you’re officially perfect.”

Cuddles

pulls you into his chest

rocking you slightly like you’re dancing to a song only he hears

“Shh, just let me admire my masterpiece.”

SOUNDS

deep, rumbling laugh when you squirm away

“Where you going? I’m the main event!”

playful whispers

“Admit it... you married me for my looks.”

fake gasps of offense

“You’re blushing? After all this time? Yah, I still got it!”

THINGS HE SAYS

Affectionate Teasing

“You’re lucky I’m so patient. Anyone else would’ve given up on your snoring.”

Unexpected Sweetness

“You’re my favorite place to be. Even better than... ahh nervermind."

AFTERCARE

whips up a gourmet breakfast with way too many heart-shaped garnishes

“Fuel for round two! Hypothetically.”

winks as he feeds you a strawberry

drapes you in silk robe

insisting it’s “VIP loungewear”

“You’re rocking my look. Almost as good as me.”

turns on a reality show

narrating the drama in a silly voice until you’re crying-laughing

“See? Oppa’s a whole package.”

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

= Quiet, Grounded, and Unapologetically Tender

MOOD

hazy, gray morning

world feels muted

room is dim

curtains half-drawn

only the faint hum of the city waking up outside

his energy is calm and deliberate

no rush, no grand gestures

it’s about existing together (in stillness)

time bends

HOW IT STARTS

wakes before you

he often does, but doesn’t move

just watches the rise and fall of your shoulders

his arm slung loosely over your waist

when you finally stir, he tugs you closer

his nose brushing the back of your neck

“Too early...”

he grumbles

voice gravelly with sleep

“Stay.”

hand slips under your shirt

palm warm against your stomach

he is anchoring you to him

PACE

slow

almost lazy

intentional

he’s not one for theatrics

movements are measured

= like the steady click of a metronome

kisses the curve of your shoulder, the dip behind your ear

each touch is a quiet promise

he rolls you onto your back

a hand cradling your head

thumb brushing your cheekbone

“Easy...”

murmurs, more to himself than to you

TOUCH

Hands

slightly rough from guitar strings

but his fingertips are still moving gentle

tracing the line of your jaw, your collarbone, the inside of your wrist

= like he’s mapping a song only he knows

Lips

soft

lingering presses rather than urgency

kisses like he’s savoring something rare

the corner of your mouth, the pulse at your throat, the scars you once told him about

Body

prefers closeness without suffocation

his leg hooks over yours

he is pulling you into his warmth

tho leaves room to breathe

“You’re freezing...”

his smile/smirk betrays him

SOUNDS

the creak of the mattress as he shifts

his exhale

= a low hum against your skin

rare, breathy laugh when you tickle his ribs

“Yah. Focus.”

murmurs in a mix of Korean and sleep-slurred English

“좋아… just like that… perfect.”

THINGS HE SAYS

Dry Affection

“You’re hogging the sheets. Again.”

he’s the one who stole them

Blunt Honesty

“This... you... this is the only thing I’d wake up early for.”

Unexpected Softness

“Stay. Please.”

request, not a demand

AFTERCARE

rolls onto his back

arm still draped over you

staring at the ceiling

“Coffee?”

already knows the answer

returns with two mugs

black decaf for him

too much cream for you

sits cross-legged on the bed

shoulders brushing

no need to fill the silence

he’ll tug you into his studio

letting you nap on the couch while he works

“Don’t snore...”

unseriously warns you

click of his mouse slows when your breathing evens out

note: would fall back asleep mid-cuddle. “Five more minutes” turning into two hours

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

= Bright, Playful, and Overflowing with Love

MOOD

sunlit and joyful

= like the first day of spring

his energy is contagious

warm, giggly

infused with a tenderness that makes even lazy moments feel vibrant

turns intimacy into a dance

every touch is a step

every laugh a rhythm

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to the sound of him humming under his breath

his fingers tracing idle patterns on your shoulder

you shift?

he grins and pokes your cheek

“Jagiya, you’re finally up! Took you long enough.”

pulls you into a bear hug

nuzzling your neck like an overgrown puppy

“Missed you. Even though you were right here.”

PACE

mix of playful energy and lingering sweetness

he’s all about connection

switching between peppering your face with kisses and slowing down

savoring the way you sigh when he brushes his lips over your collarbone

his hands never stay still

roaming from your waist to your hair

= like he’s trying to memorize you through touch

TOUCH

Hands

warm and always moving

squeezing your hips

threading through your hair

linking your fingers together

“Your hands are so tiny. Cute.”

Lips

leaves a trail of quick, smiling kisses from your jaw to your fingertips

“One for each hour I waited for you to wake up.”

Cuddling Position

pulls you on top of him

your head resting on his chest

“Listen... my heart’s beating just for you.”

SOUNDS

bright, breathy laughter when you tickle his sides

“Yah! Cheater!”

soft, sing-song praises in Korean

“이뻐… 너무 이뻐…” (“Pretty… so pretty…”)

occasional giggle-snort when you tease him

“Stop making me laugh... this is serious...”

THINGS HE SAYS

Playful Banter

“You’re stealing all the blankets again. Again! Should I start calling you ‘Thief’?”

Affectionate

“You’re doing amazing, baby...”

Unexpected Sincerity

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you… but I’ll spend forever trying to.”

EXTRA: SHOWER MOMENT

tugs you into the shower

claiming it’s to “wash off the sleep and sweat”

anything but lazy

hands you the loofah

eyes sparkling

you rinse his hair?

he leans into your touch

suddenly quiet

“This… this is the good stuff.”

AFTERCARE

wraps you in his fluffiest towel

dances around the kitchen making honey-butter toast.

“Fuel for round two! Or… y’know, nap time.”

plays “cozy DJ”

curates a playlist of acoustic BTS tracks and slow jams

sways with you in the living room

chin on your head

“We’re owning this lazy day, yeah?”

PARK JIMIN

= Softness, Fire, and Endless Devotion

MOOD

golden, sunlit morning where the air feels like honey

slow and sweet

his energy is a blend of soft affection and simmering intensity

like a dance between a lullaby and a crescendo

thrives on connection

making every touch a conversation

every glance is a promise

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to his fingertips tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder

his breath warm against your ear

“Jagiya...”

murmurs, voice still husky with sleep

“You’re too pretty to be real.”

lips brush the curve of your jaw, achingly slow

as if he’s savoring the first taste of sunlight

PACE

deliberate push-and-pull

softness that melts into fervent urgency

ebbs back into something achingly gentle

starts with languid kisses

hands cupping your face like you’re something fragile

when you arch into him, he matches your hunger

fingers tangling in your hair

breath hitching

slows again just as quickly

“Shh, we have all day...”

whispering against your collarbone

TOUCH

Hands

start as feather-light caresses

thumb grazing your cheek

palm skimming your waist

later grips your hip with possessive gentleness

grounding you

“Right here. Stay with me.”

Lips

alternates between tender pecks and deep, lingering kisses that leave you breathless

bites his own lip to stifle a grin when you shiver

“Like that, jagiya?”

Forehead

presses his to yours during quieter moments

eyes locked on yours

“You’re my favorite sight.”

voice trembling

SOUNDS

rustle of sheets as he pulls you closer

fabric pooling around his waist

soft, breathy laughs when you tease him

“Yah, who said you could be this cute and this annoying?”

whispers that blur Korean and English

“I’ve got you… 넌 내 것이라서… don’t ever let go.”

THINGS HE SAYS

Sweet Affirmations

“You’re everything. Every damn thing.”

Playful Demands

“Look at me. I want to see you... all of you.”

Raw Vulnerability

“I don’t know how to love you quietly. You make me… burn.”

AFTERCARE

draws a bath strewn with rose petals

insisting on washing your hair himself

“Let me take care of you.”

fingers massage your scalp until you’re boneless against him

feeds you strawberries dipped in chocolate

licking sweetness off your thumb

“Breakfast of champions”

smirks

wraps you in his favorite silk robe

nuzzling your neck as you both doze

“Stay. The world can wait.”

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

= Whimsical, Romantic, and Unapologetically Artistic

MOOD

golden, sunlit morning

air smells like fresh coffee/cocoa and distant rain

room feels like a vintage film set

soft velvet throws, polaroids strung on the wall, record spinning Billie Holiday in the corner

his energy is a mix of playful mischief and soul-deep romance

= as if every moment is a scene he’s directing just for you

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to the faint scratch of a charcoal pencil and the warmth of his gaze

he’s already propped on one elbow

sketching you in his leather-bound journal

sunlight gilding the edges of his bedhead

catches you watching

he grins, all boxy and bright

“Don’t move. You’re perfect like this.”

tho tosses the sketchbook aside

crawling closer

“Actually... do move. Come here.”

PACE

unpredictable and sweetly meandering

one second he’s tracing the shell of your ear with a feather-light touch

next he’s rolling you both into a cocoon of blankets

laughing when you yelp

he’s in no rush

kisses your knuckles, your knees, curve of your ankle

= as if every inch of you deserves a soliloquy

TOUCH

Hands

artist’s hands

ink-stained and tender

skims your collarbone like he’s sketching it

laces his fingers with yours, squeezing gently

Lips

alternates between soft pecks and playful nips

“You taste like yesterday’s wine. My wine.”

Forehead

presses his to yours, eyes crinkling

“You’re my favorite dream.”

SOUNDS

crackle of vinyl in the background

saxophone notes weaving through his whispers

his low, raspy laugh when you tickle his sides

“Yah... this is a serious moment!”

it’s not...

half-sung lyrics in Korean

voice still gravelly with sleep

THINGS HE SAYS

Dramatic Flair

“If I painted you right now, I’d call it ‘Chaos and Honey’. Or maybe ‘The Day Time Forgot’.”

Playful Teasing

“You’re stealing all the good pillows. Again. Should I write a song about it?”

Raw Honesty

“I didn’t know love could feel like… this. Like a song I can’t stop humming.”

AFTERCARE

wraps you in his hoodie

makes hot chocolate with heart-shaped foam

serving them on a vintage tray with strawberries

“Breakfast fit for… us.”

dances with you barefoot

his palm warm on your lower back

“No one’s watching. Just the ghosts of jazz legends. They approve.”

JEON JUNGKOOK (JUNGKOOK)

= Sweetly Enthusiastic, Playful, and Tenderly Protective

MOOD

rainy morning, after a thunderstorm

his energy is a mix of boyish eagerness and soft reverence

= like he’s discovered something precious and wants to cherish it slowly

his touches are warm

his laughter bright

his affection spills over in whispered jagiyas

shy smiles turning into smirks

HOW IT STARTS

you wake to his arm curled possessively around your waist

his nose buried in your hair

you shift?

he mumbles sleepily

“Jagiya… five more minutes.”

his hand slides up to cradle your jaw

thumb brushing your cheekbone

nuzzles your shoulder

lips grazing the edge of your tank top strap

“Missed you, even though you were right here.”

voice still raspy from sleep

PACE

playful push-and-pull between patience and passion

he’s eager but careful

= like he’s savoring a favorite dessert

lets the moment stretch

lingering kisses, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip

then pulling you closer with a quiet growl

“You’re too pretty. Can’t help it.”

TOUCH

Hands

strong but gentle

calloused from the gym

tho tender as they skate over your skin

lets you trace his tattoos

he shivers under your fingertips

“You’re the only one who gets to touch them.”

Lips/Bites

presses open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone

nibbling just enough to make you gasp

“Sorry, jagiya… couldn’t resist.”

teeth graze your earlobe, playful and warm

Forehead

rests his against yours

eyes dark and sincere

“You’re everything.”

breathes heavily

SOUNDS

soft, breathy laughter when you tickle his sides

“Yah... play nice.”

whispers

“Jagiya, you feel so good… perfect.”

rustle of sheets as he shifts to hover over you

his tattoos catching the sunlight

THINGS HE SAYS

Sweet Nonsense

“How are you real? Like… how?”

Playful Demands

“Call me oppa again. Please.” [tho I'm 50:50 abt this]

he’ll pout if you tease him

Raw Honesty

“I used to dream about mornings like this. Now I don’t have to.”

AFTERCARE

makes you banana pancakes shirtless

flexing just enough to make you laugh

“What? Gotta maintain the view for my jagiya.”

wraps you in his black hoodie

sleeves drowning your hands

“Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

puts on a live later

subtly wearing the same hoodie

ARMY notices

“No, I’m not blushing! It’s… hot in here!”

183 notes · View notes

elleaitch22 · 10 days ago

Text

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 11: Built Soft, Held Firm

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: School is finally out, so I have the freedom to write more! Is this too much of a slow burn for y'all? It should be picking up heat in the next couple chapters. Anywho, the last scene was written when I was very much not sober, so ignore errors pls&thx. As always, I hope you love it! xx Elle

Warnings: Trauma responses, trauma, reference to past abuse

Word Count: 3.7k words

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

On Sunday, Azzi woke up to a text saying that Paige and Soleil were having brunch, and that she was welcome to come if she wanted.

She rode up to the penthouse and was greeted with a wet kiss on her cheek and sticky hands around her neck. “G’mowning, Azzi!”

“Good morning, Lei! Did you have nice dreams?” Azzi replied, toting her to the kitchen.

“Yes! Mommy gotted me a unicown and she had wainbow haiw and glittew!”

Azzi gasped and giggled as Soleil continued her dream. Then she reached the kitchen.

She paused, face heating. Paige was standing at the stove in a tank top that had ridden up a little, giving Azzi the perfect view of the band of her boxers and a sliver of skin. She wore sea foam green sweats, looking like a picture of comfort.

“Hey, Az. I hope you got good sleep last night.” Paige said, turning towards the pair.

Azzi’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t slept well, and she didn’t know how Paige was going to react when she told her. “Um, I couldn’t stay asleep, so not great. What about you?”

Paige nodded. “That’s okay, hopefully we can have time for a group nap. I woke up a few times last night too.”

“We take a nap in the fowt?!” Soleil exclaimed.

“That sounds like the best idea, Sunshine,” Paige smiled, “Is that okay with you?”

A shy smile and a nod, Paige was being so understanding. It made Azzi a little anxious, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she tried to tell her brain that the blonde was safe and trustworthy. “I love a good fort nap.”

“Can you get a couple of glasses down while I finish cooking the eggs?” Paige asked over her shoulder.

Azzi put Soleil down and moved further into the room. She reached into the cabinet the same time Paige reached for the salt and pepper, holding back a gasp when their hands brushed.

She placed the glasses on the table and waited for instructions.

“Thank you, Azzi. Do you want to drink a glass of water before you have coffee or tea?” She could hear the suggestion and relaxed at the lack of command.

She did what was asked of her and waited, fidgeting with the hem of her pajama shorts.

I should’ve put on real clothes before I came over. Azzi thought to herself. Well, Paige is in comfy clothes and Soleil is in a Princess and the Frog nightgown, it’s probably fine.

Azzi didn’t notice her breathing start to come a bit quicker, but Paige did.

“What are you feeling right now?” Azzi didn’t answer. “Are you sad?” Head shook. “Nervous?” A hesitation, then head shook. “Anxious?” A nod. “Can you tell me why you’re anxious?”

Azzi tossed a look at Soleil, not wanting the little girl to hear her struggles. She was occupied with watching Miss Rachel on the purple iPad. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing, and that makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. And I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop with you.”

“Oh,” Paige started. “Maybe we should table this until Soleil’s asleep.”

Brown eyes focused on the wood grain of the table.

“I’m not mad! I just think it might take time to talk, and I want to give you all of my attention instead of splitting between the two of you.” The blonde rushed to add.

The tension in Azzi’s shoulders melted a bit, disappearing when wavy brown hair and blue eyes popped into her face.

“Azzi,” she pouted. “I wanna sit with you.” Azzi opened her arms, and Soleil whined. “But I wanna sit with Mommy too.”

“Hmph” Azzi sighed, pensive. “What if we made a fort in the living room and ate there?” She questioned, turning to Paige.

Soleil let out a loud whoop. “That’s a good idea, Az. Lei, why don’t you get the blankets. I’ll bring the food, and you can move the couch cushions to the floor, Azzi.”

Before Azzi reached the living room, Soleil had already found three chunky blankets to use in their fort. She pushed the coffee table into Soleil’s art corner and shoved two ottomans out of the way. The couch cushions were thrown to the floor when Paige entered. Azzi couldn’t see her, but she felt blue eyes tracking her movements across the space.

Soon, their plates were on the coffee table, four stuffies were perched on the blankets, and pillows had joined the chaos. Paige walked up silently, rolling her sleeves up. Her face was attractively focused as she spent ten minutes constructing.

Azzi smiled, happy with how serious Paige seemed to be taking the task. “This is probably the most engineered and well-structured pillow fort I’ve ever seen.”

“My girl deserves the best,” Paige shrugged, grin wide across her face.

The three of them sat on the floor by the coffee table, Soleil deciding she didn’t want eggs in her fort. She went back and forth between the two women with every bite she took.

After she’s had enough the little one squeals and scrambles to the pillow paradise. “C’mon! Can you wead with me?”

The curly headed woman chugged the rest of her tea and crawled under the blanket, gasping at the constellation of fairy lights twinkling in blanket seams.

She turned to the blonde responsible. “You staying out there, or you coming in with us?”

Paige’s eyes darted between the beautiful pair in the fort and the cold, silver MacBook on the couch. Her arm shot out to grab her computer before she ducked into the cozy space.

“Wead this one fiwst,” Soleil held A Family Is a Family Is a Family, crawling into Azzi’s lap. “But we have to be quiet so Mommy can work.”

Azzi smiled, happy to read the book about different kinds of families. She opened this book and began reading in her slow, warm tone.

She gave Soleil chances to interject.

“I think I look like me, but I look like Mommy when she was little.”

And “I only have one mommy like her!”

Paige smiled at her comments, resting her back against the sofa.

When Azzi read the final line – And each family is the right kind of family – Paige smiled softly, part love for Soleil, part longing for Azzi. Soleil clapped and quickly placed another book in Azzi’s waiting hands.

Love Makes a Family was one of Soleil’s favorite books. Azzi’s too; it told children the only important thing in a family is love. It made her heart ache in desire.

Love is lending a helping hand. “Like when you and Mommy maked bweakfast!”

Love is making things better again. “Like when you hugged me after they sayed mean things about ouw family.”

Love is reading one more book. “Mommy always weads me mowe books!”

Love is chasing monsters. “Mommy chase the monstews befowe bed so I’m not scawed.”

Paige’s eyes flicked to Azzi’s several times. Neither of them spoke, but something passed between them. Something soft, sweet, and real.

After they finished the second book, Soleil crawled to her mom. “Now a movie. With snacks. And cuddles.”

Paige put her MacBook away and brought her daughter to her chest while Azzi crawled out of the fort.

“You two pick a movie, and I’ll get a couple snacks.” She threw over her shoulder.

Frozen II was just getting started when she came back with a tray of apple slices, peanut butter, celery, and yogurt covered pretzels.

“Azzi, come cuddle too,” Soleil whined, adorable pout on her face.

The girl smiled as her body became squished between Paige and Azzi’s. The blonde’s hand hesitantly reached over, landing softly on Azzi’s side. Her eyes met brown ones, silently asking is this okay? Azzi gave a small smile and nod, turning to one of her favorite movies.

The trio didn’t make it to the sister’s venturing into the forest before they’re all sleep. Safe and happy.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi woke to a blank tv screen and a foot to the ribs. Her eyes trailed the leg to a precious face buried in her mother’s stomach.

Her gaze continued upward until it landed on the one holding the child.

Paige’s face could be harsh. Absolutely beautiful, but harsh. Her angular cheekbones and sharp jawline could be intimidating based on the lighting. And when she glared with her brows furrowed, she was downright terrifying. But when she’s asleep, the angles soften and she looks younger, more innocent. With her hair fanned out like a halo, Paige looked like the closest thing to an angel Azzi had ever seen.

Azzi gave herself five more seconds to trace the slope of her nose and the color of her lips before she got up to be productive.

She carried the snack tray and brunch dishes back into the kitchen, deciding to wash them by hand, give herself time to think.

She still didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing, what Paige expected of her. And that made her anxious. She didn’t know how Paige would react when Azzi eventually disappointed her.

It made her want to bolt. To leave the city.

Then

Soleil

The girl had latched onto Azzi quickly and deeply. And Azzi had done the same. In her three years of teaching, Azzi had never felt so attached to a child before. Obviously Soleil was a special case, but even before the agreement, Soleil had filled the void left by her family.

Her mind wandered more.

Her family. Maybe she could reach out to them again.

Tim and Katie were amazing and supportive; they would probably welcome her back with open arms. But they lived in Virginia. Would Azzi be able to give up her new family for her family of origin? Would they even want to know her after everything that she’d done?

A soft tap broke Azzi from her trance.

“You’ve been washing the same fork for the last thirty seconds. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Paige smiled.

Azzi felt her cheeks heat at the words, “Was just thinking about what you asked me earlier.”

The older woman nodded, reaching over to turn off the tap. “We should sit if we’re going to talk about this.”

Azzi dried her hands on her oversized t-shirt, following the blonde back to the living room. They dropped onto the couch, far enough to speak without waking Soleil, but close enough to hear when she stirred.

She nervously picked at a loose thread on her pajama shorts.

“I’m not upset, Azzi. You’re allowed to feel anxious. I just want to help you figure out how to feel safe.” Paige said gently.

Azzi pushed her shoulders back, calming herself. “There’s just too much. Too many options. Too many unknowns. I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t know what’s gonna happen when I make you upset. It’s just too much.” She said quietly, staring at a speck on the floor. “It feels like you’re watching me, waiting for me to mess up. And I know you aren’t, I know you aren’t like that, but it really makes me anxious.”

Paige waited a few seconds, “That makes sense. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that.” She paused, shifted on the couch. “Do you think rules might help? So you know what you should be doing?”

Azzi looked up, head tilted to the side as she thought. Rules and expectations. She could follow those if she knew what they were. “I don’t know. What happens if I break a rule?”

“I don’t know, maybe we could talk about it. What your headspace was and why you broke the rule. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, but we would just need to talk about it and if anything needed to change.”

The brunette nodded.

“If you don’t want to do rules, we can get you a therapist. It doesn’t have to be Kyrie, but having someone to talk to might help?” Paige offered.

Azzi shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been to therapy before and all I got from it was I’m hard to love. That I struggle in relationships because of my anxiety, PTSD, and fearful-avoidant attachment style.” She gulped. “And I know all therapists aren’t like that, but I don’t want to try to find a new one right now. I’d rather try the rules; I’m just a little nervous.”

“The rules won’t be to trap you, Azzi. It’s just so you have structure, rhythm to keep you feeling safe and secure.” She moved closer, placing her hand on the tanned knee. “I know we’re both…new to this, but the other shoe isn’t coming. Nothing’s going to drop.”

“I’m scared,” she breathed. “I know what all this means. I know I’ll have to let you in. But the last time I did that; he hurt me for years. And even if you don’t hurt me, I know I’ll disappoint you eventually. What if it’s not worth it?”

Paige cupped her cheek softly. “You’re worth it. Anything that you do, it’ll be worth it, I promise.” She swallowed. “Just – just let me take some of it. Let me take care of it. Just let me know what you’re feeling and let me carry it. You’re not alone anymore; you don’t have to do it alone.”

Azzi exhaled, melting into Paige’s hold. Eyes fluttered closed, “Okay.” She started. “I’m trying to trust you. I’m trying to believe you. Thank you.”

“Do you want to make the rules now? Are you in a good headspace for that?” Paige questioned quietly.

“I’m okay,” She replied with a nod.

They go over rules the same way they went over their agreement. Paige led, and Azzi agreed and offered suggestions.

“I’ll write a plan, or a list of things you need to do every day. Your first rule is to try to do everything on the list.”

“Try?” Azzi questioned.

“Try. There may be days where you can’t do everything, but I care more about you making the effort than getting everything perfect.”

Azzi nodded, and they moved to the next one.

“If you don’t know what to do, ask.” A nod.

“You can say pause whenever you feel overwhelmed.” Furrowed brow. “You can always ask for a break, a time to breathe.” A nod.

“One meal with us every day.” A small smile and nod.

“At least ten minutes doing something for you every day. It can be reading, or going for a walk, or going to get your hair or nails done. Something.”

“Why?” Azzi questioned.

“You have to pour into yourself, Azzi. I need you to know it’s okay to prioritize yourself and that you’re allowed to serve yourself and no one else.”

Brow furrowed again. “Okay. I think I understand.” She nodded slowly.

“You journal every day. Just dump everything from your mind so you aren’t thinking about it all day. I won’t read it unless you ask me to. You can use a sticky note or something if you want.” A slow nod.

“This rule is the most important.” Paige said. “No disappearing.” She said firmly. “If you need space, if you need a break, let me know. Soleil is depending on you; you can’t ghost her.”

“I – I love her. I would never do that to her.” Azzi whispers, looking to the fort where the girl was snuggled deep in blankets.

Paige followed her gaze. “Do you want rules about Soleil too?”

Azzi nodded slowly.

“Soleil’s comfort comes first. Even if you’re pissed at me, wait until she’s not in the middle. She’s an empath, she’ll pick up on it and be confused.” Another nod.

“You do a bedtime story with her when she asks.” A smile and nod.

“We do one family thing together every week. And we take turns choosing. Soleil, then you, then me.”

“That sounds good.” Azzi said slowly, thinking through all of the rules. “Can I add some?” She questions hesitantly.

The smile Paige gives her is brighter than the sun. “Of course you can.”

“Okay,” Azzi gives a matching smile. “If I do something wrong, please explain and tell me kindly. I want to know, but I don’t want to get in my head about it.”

“That’s a good rule, Azzi. Keep going, please.”

Her face reddens a bit. “I like helping, but I don’t like being forced or ridiculed when I don’t do enough. Can you let me help with something every day?” Azzi questioned.

Paige nodded. “What would you like to help with?”

“Um, anything. I like to cook, as long as it isn’t forced. I like doing things with Soleil.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll keep that in mind.” Paige encourages.

“I think we should start and end the day with a check-in? That way you don’t have to see the journal every day, but you can still know what’s going in. And if you’re upset about something, we can talk about it.”

Paige smiled, “That seems doable. I’ll figure something out for the mornings I have to leave early.”

Azzi nodded in thanks. “If I get quiet, that doesn’t mean I want to leave. I just shutdown sometimes. If I get too overwhelmed, or if there’s too much going on in my head. It doesn’t mean I’m running – I just need time to process.”

Paige grabbed on of Azzi’s hands, stopping the fidgeting. “I get that. I do that too sometimes. A lot of times, actually.”

A lull fell over the pair. “Did you have any more?” The blonde questioned.

Azzi shifted nervously. “Just one. You already kind of do this. But if you feel like it, you can always remind me I’m safe.” Her eyes darted to Paige’s quickly. “It helps when you hold my neck or my knee. Touch helps. You speak a lot too, that helps a lot.”

“I’m happy it’s helping,” Paige smiled. “I’ll keep doing that. Thank you for helping with the rules, Azzi.”

Paige got up, coming back after a minute. “Here’s a journal for you.”

The journal was hardbacked and soft pink. Written across the front in delicate, gold script were the words Bloom Where You Are Planted. The pages were thick, lined in light pink. A gold, satin ribbon would mark Azzi’s place. It was a beautiful journal.

Azzi took it and turned to page two of the journal, writing the title Our Rules. She underlined it twice.

Paige waited until Azzi was distracted with Soleil waking, then gently wrote one more rule at the bottom of the original list:

16. You’re allowed to want more. You just have to tell me.

She didn’t point it out.

But Azzi saw it. And she didn’t cross it out.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It was well after lunch when Paige remembered something, something that could have been jarring for Azzi.

“Hey, Az,” she started nervously. Azzi looked up from the coloring sheet she was doing with Soleil. “I know it’s last minute, but there’s a dinner tonight that we’re supposed be attending.”

Dark brows shot up to her hairline. “Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Paige answered with a grimace. “If it’s too short notice, I can go by myself.” She rushed out.

“It’s okay, Paige. What time are we supposed to be ready?” She giggled.

Paige’s face reddened as she stood slowly, ready to flee. “In 37 minutes.”

“PAIGE!” Azzi exclaimed, giggling stopped.

“I’m gonna go get ready and call KK to watch Soleil, bye!” Paige said, running to her bedroom.

She messaged her best friend, who replied that she was on her way up. Turning to her closet, Paige thumbed through her suits, landing on a custom Alexander McQueen option. She pulled the pants on quickly, trying to decide if she should wear a shirt or not. They would be outside, and the temperature dropped a bit at night. Azzi may need a jacket when the temperature did fall, so Paige needed something under hers so she could offer the green blazer when the time was right. She pulled on a crisp white shirt and a pair of platform loafers. She slicked her hair back into a bun, putting on the armor needed to survive a night with these investors. Her makeup was simple; neutral eyes, concealer, and lip gloss. And she was ready.

Azzi was walking back into the living room when Paige came out, heels clacking on the wood. She was gorgeous in her fitted, black dress. There was a slit running up her left leg, letting the blonde see the strappy, gold sandals she’d selected. The neck was high, hiding her cleavage and showcasing her shoulders. Her hair was tied up in an elegant bun complemented nicely with pavé gold hoops.

Her brown eyes glared at Paige. “I’m so mad at you.” Lips twitching upward. “Less than an hour to prepare for a fancy event is diabolical.”

“I’m sorry, I swear I just forgot!” Paige exclaimed.

“Come on, Blondie. Let’s get this over with.” Azzi rolled her eyes.

The ride to the restaurant wasn’t long, but it was enough for Azzi to go silent with anxiety.

“What’s up, Az.” Paige questioned as they rode in her Porches Panorama.

Azzi sighed deeply, “I don’t know what to expect.” She paused. “For the first event, I wasn’t really expected to know anything, because it was my first event. But now? I should know the proper rules of etiquette. I should know everything because they’re going to expect me to,”

Azzi should have seen Paige’s vibrant smile and her thoughts at the dress was wearing, but instead, she saw all the ridicules people could say about her and her body.

She put all the thoughts away and took a deep breath. She could do this.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Rules if you didn’t track them all:

Try everything on the day’s list

Ask if I don’t know what to do

Ask for a break if I need

One meal with Paige and Soleil every day

Ten minutes for myself every day

Mind dump in the journal every day

No disappearing

Soleil’s comfort comes first

Bedtime story with Soleil whenever she wants

One activity with Soleil and Paige every week

Be gentle with corrections and criticism

At least one thing to help every day

Check ins at the beginning and end of the day

Quietness doesn’t mean running

Safety checks and comments

You’re allowed to want more. You just have to tell me.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #wnba #dallas wings

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lilaacmoon · 1 month ago

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ROOMMATES written by lilaacmoon

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ summary: you couldn't sleep and maybe it was his fault. the thin walls didn't help, especially when you could hear the soft whimpers coming from his room. one thing led to another... and you didn't realize he heard everything.

A/N: this is my first time writing something smutty so pls be nice lol. it’s more like soft smut?? idk but i hope y’all like it. part two might be spicier😛

It was late at night, and both you and Hamzah were in your rooms. You were curled up in bed, watching Gossip Girl, while Hamzah was still up, working out in his room across the hall.

Eventually, you turned off your TV and tried to fall asleep, but no matter how many times you shifted or adjusted the blanket, your body refused to settle. Your mind was restless. And then, faintly, you heard it—Hamzah’s soft whimpers coming through the thin walls.

You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your cheeks. You hated to admit it, but the sound was doing something to you. The low, breathy noises coming from him—each one made your pulse race faster.

Your hand slipped beneath the covers almost without thinking, trailing down to the waistband of your shorts. Slowly, you pushed your fingers past the fabric and began to circle your clit with light, teasing touches. A soft moan escaped your lips as the pleasure started to build. You bit down on your bottom lip, hips subtly lifting as your fingers moved faster, needier.

You didn’t realize you had started whispering his name until it was already slipping out—quiet and breathless, like a secret.

What you also didn’t realize… was that Hamzah had stopped working out. The sounds from his room had gone completely silent.

He was now standing just outside your door, frozen in place. Your voice, your moans—his name falling from your lips—it all hit him at once, and he swore he could feel the blood rush straight to his core.

He hesitated, torn between knocking and pretending he never heard a thing. After a long pause, he stepped back and returned to his room, jaw clenched, heart pounding.

But one thing was certain—he wasn’t going to forget what he heard. And eventually… he would bring it up.

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #fanfic #soft smut #smut #roommates #hamzah fluff #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah fic

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cindol · 1 year ago

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SHE GOT A WHAM… GYAT DAMN !

Black fem reader

characters included: connie springer, ino takuma, satoru gojo, suguru getou, renji abarai, sukuna ryomen

synopsis— y/n’s man really love her fat ass and have different ways of showing it.

tw— written in 3rd person(y/n is referred to as she/her), suggestive, smut,Spanish spoken(linda,grasa), connie is a white Dominican, ass slapping, ass eating, anal play, true form sukuna, sukuna has two dicks,

tagging— @ykimobessed @conniesdramaqueen @simpingfor-wakasa

a/n: tumblr pls don’t flag it this time !!

CONNIE SPRINGER

Love showing his appreciation for her ass by kissing it. When y/n and connie are just watching tv lazing around with him laying on her ass hell lazily kiss it. It makes her giggle and try to shoo him away with her hand but he just continues.”just showing appreciation for the best fucking ass I’ve ever laid my eyes on baby.”

At random when she’s kicking her feet laying on her stomach on the couch scrolling through Tiktok he grabs the opportunity to slap her ass even through your jeans making you gasp and pout at him. He just does a mischievous grin.”I’m sorry baby, I can’t keep my hands off this big grasa y’know?” He grabs at the fat of her ass for full effect too.

He even has a pet name for her ass too. Whenever he’s just kissing and squeezing her ass he’ll giggle and mumble,”love my little linda..”

NSFW

He will sloppily make out with her own ass, literally. With her laying stomach down and ass up as she hugged a pillow. Rubbing his hands like a villain he’ll give her a playful ass slap before spreading her open with his two hands, looking at her wet hole and grinning.”Bon appetite as they would say right?” That makes y/n whine as she clenched the white pillow.”stop teasing con and fuckin’ dig in already.” He gave her another smack on the ass making her moan.”don’t rush a critic baby.”

His tongue came in contact with her asshole making her whimper at his wet muscle on her hole. As he gripped her ass cheeks tonguing her out, he gets real sloppy with it. His whole mouth is practically kissing on her hole, making it sloppier as he makes audible groaning and moaning noises himself kissing it, chasing after her own high.

INO TAKUMA

He already treats y/n like a fragile glass plate, so it’s expected of him to treat her ass with care. Always letting her wear his beanie while he gives her warm ass rubs on the couch. He hated seeing those “is my ass big?!” questions on tv so he would hate hearing it from his girlfriend’s mouth. When she begs the question while looking into their shared bedroom mirror he just looks up from his phone smiling and looking her up and down saying.”looks pretty nice and fat to me, just how I like my booties!” It makes her cringe but giggle.

He loves seeing her ass in skirts most of all, whenever she would bend down to grab something she dropped, a shivering sound nearly would come out his mouth.

NSFW

He’s an ass eater and not ashamed of it, once she tells him she loves a good munch he takes any chance to take a nice bite out of her. When they’re getting nice and comfy doing Netflix and Chill that’s when he plots his plan on her. When there’s a sex scene on the screen y/n just makes a soft giggle at it.”what’s so funny baby? They’re doing what we always do all the time” he said it with a smile making her giggle turn into a full laugh.

“Well they ain’t doing it right I’ll just say, girlie doesn’t even look like she’s enjoying being ate by him.” Ino hums with his hand rubbing her ass.” You think I can do better than that sleaze on the screen maybe?” Her eyes meet him while he has that lazy look and smile on his face while she giggles saying a little,”maaaaybeeeee..”

That dragged out maybe leads to her sitting on his face on their couch. She doesn’t resist either as she lays her pantieless ass flat on his face and smiles looking down at him.”jus’ lemme know when you’re readdyyyyy!” Her last word ended up dragged out once she felt his tongue inside her ass. The way his tongue slurped at her hole and his mouth getting sloppy made whimpers and soft moans erupt from her mouth as she gripped a heart pillow from behind her for leverage against her boyfriend’s powerful tongue. He was getting her soaking wet, getting her slick from top to bottom until he abruptly stopped making her pout and get up off his face once he tapped her thigh. “thought you were gonna show me how better you are than ol’ boy on the screen..” she teased but he said nothing in response.

All he did was take off his baggy sweater and black beanie, ruffling his hair a bit and letting out a curse.”damn sweater was too stuffy, can’t eat properly. Now c’mere.” He easily grabbed her by the legs making her gasp.

SATORU GOJO

he loves a girl with a nice rack but loves the wagon his girlfriend has on her. He’s always cracking jokes about her ass or making a whistle when she tries on some new jeans that fit on her ass just right. When she looks at him for feedback he pretends like he’s thinking with a hand on his chin while licking his bottom lip.”might need to cop a feel to see if it’s snug on there baby, y’know? Never know with these online companies and pants! I would know..”

He likes to do silly things with her ass, always slapping on each ass cheek like bongos making her snort and laugh.”you’re gonna bruise my cheeks doing this satoru!” He just does that devilish laugh he always does in response.”can’t help it, it’s like your cheeks are telling a story sweetheart.”

He likes watching things bounce off her ass too, it’s like watching the laws of gravity. He’ll have her laying face down while he bounces small little tennis balls off her ass like a game.

NSFW

Fucks your ass in doggystyle, loves him some anal. His ego grows 10x more larger as he slowly puts every inch inside his poor girl just to hear her shakey moans and “oh god!” and “satoru!” While he shushes her while petting her hair. He starts off with a slow pace and goes off on her reactions to his strokes.”hitting me so good..“ he smiles at that upping his pace inside her ass.”yeah? Want something a lil more up your speed baby?” She responded with a moan and head shake.

He thrust his hips up to a higher pace than last time.”like that?” She whines nodding her head as best she can and he takes that as an obvious yes, he does this game with her until they find the best pace and that’s when he gets to work. With one hand on her shoulder he would give her fast thrusts and strokes inside her ass. Her moans would reach a higher octave.”ah.. satoru..! Wait s-slow down I might..” He just continues making out a giggle when her moans turn into a short gasp when she comes.

Gojo pulls out slowly patting his poor girlfriends head when she looks so flushed and bashful after.

SUGURU GETOU

he likes seeing her in his clothing most importantly only his long white t-shirts. He loved to come into their kitchen when she’s cooking up a nice morning meal then the wide smile that comes on her big lips when she sees him.”breakfast almost done baby!” Saying that like he didn’t just fuck her stupid last night.

He’s a calm man but it’s so hard. When she’s cooking with the girls he has to clench his fists when he sees her in some short clothing and apron. These clothing are appropriate of course but when he sees her backside and ass it’s hard to keep composure as she giggle with the girls when they look back worrying about him.”don’t worry about papa baby, let’s just make yummy cupcakes for papa!”

He a great masseuse just as much as he is a great father meaning that he loves to massage every part of y/n. When she tells him her ass has been slightly sore he secretly loved it even though his calm smile didn’t show it.”come here dear, I’ll relieve some of that tension in your soft spot.” His massages on her ass are always so nice. His hands are so clean and makes her moan at how he treats her ass fat like dough.

NSFW

In the bedroom it’s a different story. He loved to rough her ass up with her given consent. With her laying flat across his lap on her stomach he would squirt cold lube on her ass hole making her gasp out and him make a warm smile.”ah relax dear it’ll get better in a moment I promise.” Once their was a good amount of lube he started to insert his fingers, fingering her hole to good enough pace to where she got a bit soppy and wet stopping making her whine and him hush. He grabbed the anal bead toy next to him adding it in her hole inch by inch making her moan with each inch entering her asshole.

He liked to flog her ass too, he hates seeing her cry in any other setting but seeing her teary eyes and gasp each time the flog would slap against her brown ass and how she let out many “oh god!” and “suguruuuu!”

RENJI ABARAI

he of course loves a fat ass, his mother would slap him on his mouth if he didn’t. Before he even started dating y/n when Ichigo introduced him to her he knew her being around him would be a problem.

He loved having her sit on him in a less sexual way and more in a laying claim way and never questions it. He always has a careless look about too, like when she just comes to sit on his lap while he’s playing a online game match with Ichigo and the others, he liked feeling the weight of her fat ass on his lap. He encouraged her to actually sit on him herself and flaunt him off. He liked aimlessly scrolling on his Instagram stories and seeing her story of herself sitting on renji’s lap while he napped on their bed.

NSFW

Renji may be a dumbass but he liked having her needy for him also, when given the chance he takes advantage of it actually. Seeing the needy look she was trying to control around their friends made him laugh. Rukia would laugh a little looking at y/n.”looks like you may have to use the number 2 y/n.” She shares a look with Renji for a second and then looks back at rukia laughing.”nah.. just cramps, you know how us women get right?” Rukia laughs along.

What they didn’t know was the fact he had her wearing a vibrating plug at a high 4.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

Having y/n as a new girlfriend showed him a lot about the new modern world and era, like more new technology and fashion. What he did notice was how y/n had a completely different shape than the women he usually would be around in the heian era and it interested him. He would always comment on y/n’s shape with his all 6 eyes looking her bounce whenever she strutted around the house. Without fail it always makes her gasp when he lands a sharp slap on her ass.”nice shape! If you were in my era tehy would’ve loved how fattened up you are in the ass era and boiled you and chopped you up into pieces to eat.” It makes her just pout but chuckle slapping one of his arms.

It amazes him how soft her ass feels too, he’s always been so use to the skinny women with pancakes back in his era so it’s a completely no feeling with brown soft ass.

NSFW

sex with him gets trippy. He always fits both dicks in both holes. While one is in her ass the other is making her pussy cream. When she starts to squeal is when he rolls his eyes and uses one of his hands to cover her mouth.”enough of that, don’t need your neighbor coming and discovering the monster you’ve been hiding in your house do you woman?” She makes a quick head shake making him laugh.”then shut up.” And quicken his pace in both holes again.

It’s so mean how he expects her to be quiet when he’s purposely trying to making her cum on both of his dicks

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mxnhoo · 11 months ago

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falling (n. rk)

synopsis : tonight, it was only you and ni-ki. genre : romance, fluff, ni-ki is so sweet it's insane brah pairing : ni-ki x reader (ft ive) w/c : 3.6k a/n : heeyyy guys. haven't written in a while so i wanted to take the time to make something so my account doesn't completely die yet LOL. been getting into chase atlantic and falling has been on replay, so i just had to write something inspired by it. not proofread cos i rushed this since i still need to do schoolwork, but hope ya'll enjoy this~ + the coloured text keeps glitching so pls ignore it LOL

now playing : falling - chase atlantic paradise - chase atlantic

━━━━━✁┈┈┈┈┈┈

"All done!" a voice informed you, the sensations you felt on your face disappearing as you opened your eyes to see your friends, smiling at you. The one directly in front of you was holding a make-up brush, on the table beside her were multiple make-up products, a few from Clio, Flower Knows, Dasique and other brands. You looked around the room to see your friends looking astonished staring at you, loud squeals filling up the room after a few seconds.

"Babes—" your friend, Wonyoung, who was doing your make-up, put down the make-up brush she was holding, taking your hand with both of hers and flashing you such a gleeful countenance. You were worried about what she was gunna say, did you look bad? "You look drop-dead gorgeous."

Upon hearing her compliment, warmth filled your heart and a shy smile filled your face, making you look away as you felt flattered. A different voice behind Wonyoung added on, "You literally look so fucking hot". You shot your head up and realised it was Yujin talking, her raising her eyebrows and smirking at you.

"Oh stop," you giggled, curling your wrist at her and playfully rolling your eyes. Yujin spoke again, "You're literally gunna be prom queen".

Liz, who was sitting beside Yujin, added on, "Ni-ki's gunna love this, he's so lucky". Upon Ni-ki's name falling onto your ears, you slightly jumped, heart skipping a beat as you realise that he was going to see you like this. He was going to see you all dressed up and pretty, and you were nervous as to what he was going to think.

"No way.." you brushed Liz away, taking the pocket mirror that was resting on the table along with the rest of the make-up to see how you looked like, because no way you looked that good, right? But oh. My. God.

You were gorgeous. Your lips were a pretty shade that matched you perfectly, your base looked absolutely flawless, eyelashes looking so long and lustrious, contour making your features seem sharper, your eyeliner was on fleak, and a hint of blush on your cheeks adding cuteness to your whole look. You felt so confident for the first time in your life. "Holy crap, how did you do this.." you quickly turned to Wonyoung, features of confusion and shock filling your face as you stared into Wonyoung who was now proudly smiling.

Wonyoung shrugged and gave a smug look, "I have my ways, you're welcome babes". She caressed your hand and looked at you with such loving eyes. You couldn't explain how thrilled you were, to be able to show Ni-ki your prom dress, your make-up look, and your hair that was nicely curled up and styled by Rei before the make-up.

"Are you guys sure he'll like it?" you nervously questioned, unsure as to whether Ni-ki will love this sight of you.

Your friends groaned and even rolled their eyes, retorting back in unision, "He'll love it!". You jumped at how united they were to nag at you, and if you said you weren't happy, you'd be lying. You giggled and covered your mouth, feeling so appreciated.

You were packing your belongings into your handbag that nicely complemented your sparkly black dress, and as you were about to pack your phone inside, you received a notification causing your phone to buzz and turn on. You swiftly checked your phone for the alert, and felt as your heart melt when you received a text from the one person you wanted it to be from.

ni-ki my love ₊˚ෆ : bet you look so pretty rn ni-ki my love ₊˚ෆ : i can't wait to see you gorgeous :)

Your heart rate picked up the pace as you shyly smiled at your phone screen, increasingly getting excited to see him. You knew he was going to be dressed up in the suit that you loved so much. You couldn't wait to be able to see how handsome he looked in person, and at the same time you hope that he would feel the same way.

y/n! : me too y/n! : i love you :)

You giggled to yourself before you heard a voice from outside the room, "Y/N, time to go!". Your eyes shot up to the door before you responded, "Okay, I'm coming!". You shoved your phone into your handbag and zipped it up, putting on your heels before walking out of the room to be met by your friends. "Let's go!" you cheered out.

You were nervously walking inside the ballroom after you and your group of friends had checked in at the reception centre. You looked around at your surroundings to realise that everything looked so luxurious, you probably haved walked past 6 chandelier's by now, the roof being higher than you expected, the white cloth that covered the chairs and tables being a high-quality polyester, and you realise that there were a hoard of people that filled the room at every corner. You kept looking for one person, walking at all directions. By now you've already walked away from your friends, alone as you desperately tried to find Ni-ki.

Scanning the crowd, you finally spotted him. Holy fuck, he was so handsome. He was in the black suit that he usually wore for special occassions, but it will always catch you off guard. The suit easily portrayed his well-built figure, his shoulders looking broad. His hair was nicely slicked back with gel with a few strands resting on his forehead. He was breathtaking.

Without even realising, your legs started moving towards him, bumping into multiple people but your eyes remaining locked onto him.

"Ni-ki." you called once you were near him. "Yes-?" he turned around to the direction of your voice before he stared at you, his jaw dropped. He looked at you up and down, his eyes meeting yours and looking completely astonished.

"Fuck Y/N.." was all he could say after he saw you. He let out an amused scoff before continuing, "You look so fucking gorgeous, baby.". A blush crept up your cheeks, and he held his hand up that was holding a bouquet, "Some flowers for the prettiest girl here". You took the bouquet into your hands, leaning forward to peck a kiss on his cheek before you muttered out, "Thanks, love". He continued to stare at you, realising he was such in a lovedaze. He quickly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and pressing you against his body before placing his lips on yours. It caught you off-guard, but you slowly closed your eyes as you melted into the kiss, your free-hand resting on his chest.

His movement was slow, steadily tilting his head to be able to gain more access. The rush of adrenaline that pumped through your veins made you feel so alive, your heart now rapidly beating. You couldn't care about the loud conversions around you, or the loud music. At this point of time, it was just you and Ni-ki. His hands travelled up to your face, cupping your head as he brought your face closer. You felt so lost in his lips, cherishing the intimacy between you and him. As you slowly started to feel breathless, you lightly pushed his chest and pulled away, panting as you both looked into each other's eyes with such an intense gaze while resting your forehead on his.

"I feel like the luckiest man on earth, you're literally perfect." He complimented, and you felt the same way. You felt like you won the lottery knowing that THE Ni-ki was your boyfriend. You chuckled as you closed your eyes, your free arm slowly making it's way up to wrap his neck. Before you knew it, loud voices started cheering, making you open your eyes and lean back to see what the commotion was about. There were 2 figures now on stage, Gaeul and Leeseo, that was all the way at the front of the ballroom, holding mic's as they loudly cheered, "Let's get prom started!".

Loud cheers filled the room, and you chuckled, looking back at Ni-ki to see that he was still checking you out, looking at you with such loving eyes. "Stop looking at me like that.." you teased, chuckling at him.

He shot back, "How could I not when you look like this?". You playfully smacked his chest, before taking his wrist into your hand.

"Let's go to our table, the rest should be waiting for us." you said. He looked reluctant, but he didn't want to turn you down, so he nodded and you happily led him to the tables.

You walked around the ballroom, checking the stand numbers on the table, looking out for the number that you and your friends have booked together. You finally spotted the table, and you called out, "There's our table!".

However, before you could pull him towards the table, he pulled you back and you turned around to face him, confused on why he wasn't following you. When you both made eye contact, he softly asked, "Can we get out of here?".

Your eyes widen as you tilt your head at him, confused as to why he would want to skip prom when he had been looking forward to it for the longest time. You questioned him, "Why..?".

He gave you a warm smile, before leaning in, his warm breath now hitting your ears, "I wanna have you to myself for the whole night". Your heart skipped a beat as you rapidly blink your eyes, trying to remain your composure. You slowly tilted back to look at the table where all of your friends were, then slowly back at Ni-ki. Your hand that was on his wrist slowly went down to his hands, interlocking it before you gave him a smile of approval, nodding and quickly answering, "Of course, honey".

He mischeviously chuckled before he ran towards the exit, pulling you with him and you laugh too, enjoying the moment you were having with him. You passed by many people, who had glanced at the both of you, confused to why you both were leaving prom when it barely started, but you both couldn't care less. You both laughed as loud as possible, dashing past all the luxurious furniture and the chandelier's that were above the both of you. He pushed the tall doors open before leading you to the outside of the building, the sky being a pitch black and the chill air immediately making you shiver. He instantly noticed and quickly let go of your hand to remove his blazer, wrapping it around you.

"T-thank you," you nervously spoke out, giving him a soft smile.

"Anytime baby." he grinned. He took your hand again, interlocking it before walking, swinging your interlocked hands up and down. You enjoyed being with him, but realising that you were leaving prom, you had no idea what you two were going to do now.

"Ni-ki, where are we going now?" you questioned.

He playfully looked back and smirked, "I don't know, let's just see where our feet takes us."

Tonight, the world only consisted of you and Ni-ki.

Next thing you knew, you were at a bowling alley with Ni-ki. The bowling shoe that the alley provided felt so much better on your feet, and you both constantly kept laughing at each other. Considering that it was night time, there was now a lot of people, but once again, you both couldn't care less. You cheered at all the strike's that Ni-ki managed to get, and he teased you everytime you got a gutter.

When you were getting annoyed at the fact you were having a gutter streak, he stood up, walking behind you as he held your arm and waist, guiding you through the momentum. The way that your bodies were so closed made you feel so flustered, and after he taught you, you quickly picked up a ball and threw it the same way he taught you, scoring your first strike. As soon as all the pins fell down, you looked back at Ni-ki who was sitting down behind you, smiling and cheering. He cheered as loudly as you, congratulating you and running towards you to give you a hug.

Now, you two were at a Billiards to play pool. You watched as the few strands of hair fell over his eyes as he leaned down to find the correct angle to hit the white ball. You looked at him with such loving eyes, and once he hit the white ball in, one solid ball went in, and he immediately looked up at you and smirked.

"We already know who's going to win" he teased, and you playfully rolled your eyes, gripping the pool stick you were holding onto tighter.

"Sure.. sure.." you replied sarcastically.

Spoiler alert : You won because you were too good, and Ni-ki helped you out. Mainly the latter.

You two were walking on an empty street, the streetlights only being the source of light when your feet started to hurt from your heels. You tried to hide it but the way you were limping practically gave it away. Ni-ki halted to a stop, making you stop as well. "Stop here," he ordered. Your eyebrows raised at him, worried that he realised that you were hurting, "W-why?".

"You're limping. Your heels hurt, don't they?" he asked. You tried to deny, "It's okay! It doesn't hurt that much—" "Sit down there, now." he said, pointing to the bench that was an arm's length away.

You sigh as he guided you to the chair, resting yourself on it. You placed the bouquet he had gifted you earlier and was about to remove the heels by yourself, when he stopped you.

"Stop, I'll do it." he said, kneeling down in front of you to remove your heels. He was gentle with your feet, knowing that it was probably sore from walking around with heels for the entire night. You watched as he treated you with such gentleness, and your hand made it's way to his head, caressing his hair and patting him. He didn't say anything, but you noticed a curl at the corners at his mouth, making you grin.

After he had removed your heels, he stood up and started to remove his own shoes when he got stopped by you, "Wait what? What shoes are you going to wear then?!". You were concerned for him, not wanting him to walk around barefoot.

He chuckled, successfully removing his shoes and responding, "It's okay, I have socks on anyways". You tried to fight against the idea of him walking around with only socks but he kneeled down and gently inserted your feet into his shoes, which were significantly more comfortable than your heels.

You felt guilty that you were being a burden on him, but he stood back up, now face-to-face with you before he spoke out, "The prettiest girl in the world deserves to be comfortable at all time, okay? Now let's go." He held out his hand, the other hand holding your heels and you took his hand, using your other hand to pick up the bouquet.

Next thing you know, you both were at a karaoke studio. Considering it was now super late, there were many rooms that were available so you both could easily book a room. You both enterred the room, noticing the mini disco lights lighting up the dim room. You sat yourself on the couch as you watched Ni-ki close the door behind him and sit himself beside you.

"Any song in mind?" you asked him. "I have one." he responded, before he gently placed down your heels on the area beside him and picking up the machine that allowed him to pick songs and control the song queue. You patiently waited and hummed, thinking about what songs you two could sing when a song started playing, breaking your train of thoughts. You looked at the screen, and the song title was nicely displayed on the screen.

Falling - Chase Atlantic

He picked up the microphone that was nicely set on the table and stood up, walking over to the opposite side of you and started singing,

"Pour another bottle to the floor, love.

he raised his eyebrows at you and gave you a soft smile.

Pushin' for it, oh you know I want some.'Cause everything you do is screaming says it's 'more drugs'.It's kinda sad, but it's awesome."

He shook his body on beat, preparing to sing the pre-chorus.

"Oh, we've lost it. Screeching off with no name, she said 'watch this'. With her hands in the rain, call it conflict, as you should. And you ain't gunna stop this, stop this.

He quickly cleared his throat, preparing for the upcoming chorus. He wanted to sing it to you. This song was only for you, dedicated to you.

And you keep on falling baby, figure it out. Drive slow, straightforward or I'm walking around. And your dad keeps caling, tell him, 'Cut that shit out'. Just keep steering, keep steering, now."

You gazed at him affectionately, you felt like you could explode right now from the way your entire face was red and your heart was beating so fast. You stood up and ran up to him, bringing him to an embrace and connecting your lips with his.

You checked your phone, and it was almost 1a.m. You had multiple missed calls and messages asking where you were from your friends, but you were too carried away to worry about them. Right now, you were at a photobooth with Ni-ki that was conveniently placed beside a convenience store. You sat beside him, not knowing what poses to do. He inserted the cash into the machine, and the screen instantly displayed a countdown, indicating it was time to take photos. You quickly panicked and looked at Ni-ki not knowing what to do. He chuckled before he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you closer.

First photo, he was wrapping his arm around you and kissing your cheek. You had a shocked expression on your face.

Second photo, you both were folding your arms, back-to-back as you both had cool and mischevious expressions on your face.

Third photo, you two were holding up finger guns to the camera and biting your lips.

The last photo.. You two were kissing, his hands cupping your face and your arms wrapping around his neck.

After the photobooth, there was suddenly awkwardness between the both of you. You always kissed him, but something about that kiss in the photobooth made your heart race more. You cleared your throat, trying to break the silence. You looked at him and realised he was staring at you, and you chuckle, "You're literally going to stare a hole into me".

He grinned, before taking your hand into his. "It's getting late, I'll bring you back to the dorms, yeah?". You nodded at him, and he pulled out his phone to call a taxi driver.

When you were in the taxi, you rested your head on his shoulder, his thumb caressing your hand and his other hand gently squishing your thigh. You felt sleepy, and he softly sang a lullaby, his deep voice making you feel more at ease. You closed your eyes, and allowed yourself to sleep.

Once you woke up, you quickly looked around to see if you were still in the taxi, but no. You were already nicely laid down on your bed, and the first thing you wanted to find was Ni-ki. As soon as you were about to get up, your bedroom door opened and it was Ni-ki. He was shirtless, and his pants already changed into the clothing he had left the last time he came over. He noticed your awake figure, and chuckled, slowly making his way to you.

"You're awake?"

You mentally cursed at yourself. You initially planned to sleep only until the taxi has reached your destination, and not burden Ni-ki to carry you all the way home, "I'm so sorry..". You ruffled your hair and groaned, feeling guilty.

"For what?" he sat beside you on the mattress, looking at you.

"I didn't mean to be a burden, I mean, wasn't it hard to bring me hom—" "Not at all. Don't worry about it, okay?" he tucked a hair behind your eyes and smiled.

You nervously spoke up, "And won't your mom kill you if you stay the night?". He raised his eyebrows, "She knows it's you, it's okay baby, don't worry about it."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Are you sure? I don't want to give you anymore trouble..".

He embraced you and brought you down the bed, hugging you tightly. "Why would you be giving me any trouble?", he asked.

You hesitated, thinking of an answer but he continued, "I don't find you a burden at all, baby."

You remained quiet, ruffling your head into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, okay? So don't ever call yourself a burden." he reassured, playing with your hair and patting your back.

You felt so lucky that this boy was your boyfriend. This boy was like the lottery, and you can't believe that you won him, you couldn't believe he felt the same as you.

"Ni-ki." "Yes, love?" "You know I love you so much, right?" you looked up at him, and he looked back down at you, a smile evident on his face. "I love you so much too." he responded, leaning closer to place his lips on yours.

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con-dientes · 8 months ago

Text

Shared Smoke pt. 1

(TW: 1nc3st, b1g br0 x l1l s1s, 🍃 1nt0x)

I kinda rushed thru this so lemme clear some things up: I haven’t written since 8th grade on wattpad so pls dont kill me, thanks. Idk when I’ll be updating bc I have a really busy month 😭

I loved my brother. No matter how much of a jerk he was, I loved him, so when I caught him digging through my drawer for money, it didn’t bother me much.

“Hey, kiddo, I was just… uh, looking for you!” my older brother lies. I look at him, unimpressed.

“You were looking for me in my drawer?” I ask, glancing at my scattered panties. He freezes, realizing the mess he made. “I thought I saw a spider in here. Just making sure it was gone,” he stammers, but his twitchy movements give him away. I notice his withdrawals kicking in.

“Look, sis, I’m sorry. I really need some cash. Got any I can borrow?” His voice is strained, and I know he has no intention of paying it back. “I don’t have cash, bro,” I reply. “Gave it to the needy.”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “Come on, lil’ sis, not even a few bucks?” His desperation is hard to ignore. “I…” I hesitate, and he notices. He steps closer, his tone softening. “Please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I need your help.”

“I… I don’t have money, but…” I struggle to meet his eyes. His eyes light up, sensing a chance. “But what, sis?”

“I have some weed…” I finally say. “Weed? Shit, that’s perfect,” he says, relief washing over him. “You’re a lifesaver.” His hand trembles as he reaches out. “Can I have some? Please? I promise I won’t smoke it here—I’ll go outside or something. You won’t even know.”

“Smoke it here… with me.” My brother’s eyes widen, surprise quickly turning into a grin. “Are you serious?” he asks. “Not that I’m complaining, but… what brought this on?” We’ve always kept our habits separate. But if I’m offering now, who is he to refuse?

“Got a lighter, or should I grab mine?”

"I've got my stuff." I reply, bending over to look under my bed. He watches as I bend over to look under the bed, his eyes unconsciously trailing over my form. He shakes his head, trying to focus on the promise of getting high rather than his sibling's body. "Nice," he says, his voice a bit hoarse. "So, uh, where do you wanna to do this? Your room or mine?" He glances around, half-expecting our parents to burst in. Running a hand through his hair, he grins. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d want to smoke with me, sis. I’m kinda impressed.”

“We can do it in my bed…” I pull out my stash. “I… kinda need this high, too.” My brother’s eyebrows shoot up. “On your bed? Alright, cool,” he says, trying to sound casual. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching me. “You need a high too, huh? What’s going on?” he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. “Everything okay?” Despite his own desperate need for a fix, he can't help but worry about his sibling. He leans forward, studying my face.

"Let's..." I bite my bottom lip, avoiding his question as I roll the joint. "...get high." I press the joint to his lips, and he looks surprised but takes it, inhaling deeply as I light it. Smoke fills the air, and he exhales, his body relaxing. "Fuck, that's good." He passes the joint back, a lazy smirk on his face. "Your turn," he says, his voice rough. "Didn't know you had it in you, sis."

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, big brother,” I reply, taking a hit. His eyebrows shoot up, surprise and intrigue flickering across his face. He takes another drag, holding the smoke before exhaling slowly. “Is that right?” he says, his voice low. “Sounds like there’s a whole side to you I’ve never seen.” He watches me through half-lidded eyes, the smoke curling around my face. There’s something different about tonight, something that's making his skin tingle in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. “So, what other secrets you been keeping from me?” he asks with a smirk. He leans back on his elbows, his body evident even through his clothes. "Cause I gotta say, I'm kinda digging this new side of you."

"Things you probably don't need to know." I reply softly, beginning to get high. I smile lazily, biting my bottom lip once more. "Fuck~ that feels good~"

My brother’s eyes soften as he watches me take a hit, my words and actions igniting something primal within him. The weed is starting to kick in, making everything feel hazy and intense. "Oh yeah?" he says, his voice low and gravelly. "Maybe I wanna know those things, baby sis. Maybe I wanna know everything about you." He leans in closer, the scent of smoke and something uniquely me filling his senses. His lip quirks into a smirk as he notices me biting my bottom lip. "Feels good, huh?"

The tension in his body is melting away, replaced by a warm, tingling sensation. He can't help but notice how raw I look right now, all relaxed and flushed.

"You look fucking hot like this, you know that?" The words slip out before he can stop them, fueled by the weed and the strange, electric atmosphere between them.

I laugh softly, playfully pushing him. "Don't say shit you don't mean, man!" His eyes widen at my playful push, a grin spreading across his face. "Who says I don't mean it? You're fucking beautiful, sis."

"Promise you're not saying that just because I'm your little sister?" I ask, blowing smoke on his face. He inhales the smoke I blow into his face, feeling it tingle pleasantly in his lungs. He holds it for a moment, then exhales slowly.

The high is starting to really hit him now, making his thoughts hazy and disjointed.

"No, I'm not," he says, shaking his head vehemently. His hair falls messily over his face as he leans in closer. "I've never seen you as just my little sister..." I gasp softly, the weed making me feel like this wasn't a big deal. I look at him, unsure of how to react.

My brother’s heart races as I gasp softly, the weed making them both feel uninhibited and reckless. He can't believe he just confessed his true feelings like that, but the high has stripped away his usual caution. "What?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "You never thought about it before? About us?"

"I... think we're both high." I reply. "Don't kill it, don't kill the vibe."

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novastarrs · 1 year ago

Note

hiii!! could you do jock!clarisse x nerd!aphroditie!reader pls :))) and like clarisse bullies her but at the end they somehow become friends or like in love idk but if you can’t that’s okay! tyyy xxx!

YOU’RE MINE|| CLARISSE LA RUE

Warning: Horribly written make-out at the end (I apologize in advance), Cussing

Summary: You have to tutor your enemy and overtime she get’s jealous when you tutor someone else.

DNI IF YOURE OVER 19 DIOR IS A MINOR PEOPLE!!!

Nova Speaks: I don’t know how to feel about this but I hope you like it! The ending is kind of rushed and request are still open!

——

You didn’t consider yourself to be a nerd if you were being honest. You just didn’t want to fail all your classes and not get anywhere in life so you sucked it up and got your work done even if you really didn’t want too and because of that perfect attitude your teacher was making you tutor your mortal enemy.

Clarisse La Rue. Star quarterback with a big ego and even bigger muscles. The whole school loved her except for you. At first you had no hard feelings for the girl but when she tripped you in the hallway in front of everyone it was embarrassing as hell especially because she just laughed with her dumb crew and told you to watch where you were going.

Ever since that day you just stayed clear of the girl, it’s not like you guys were friends so there was no point in crossing paths with her.

But here you are sitting in your room waiting for the demon who haunted your thoughts everyday to come to your house so you could help her to her essay. If she didn’t get at least a C+ on it she was going to be forced to sit out of the game this weekend and even though you hated to admit it your school needed her.

You strictly told her to be at your house at 5:30 and not to be late but to no surprise she was. You were even considerate because football practice ends at 4:20 and you did the nice thing and let her go home and shower before showing up and she had the audacity to be late. You could’ve been binge watching your favorite show and making up dumb scenarios in your head.

Sighing heavily, you walked downstairs towards the kitchen to grab a snack out of the pantry. Your eyes moved back and forth as you browed through the delicious snacks that you had, trying to decide on what you wanted to eat.

The sound of the doorbell got your attention and you fought the urge to roll your eyes when you glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was almost six’o’clock and now she decides to show up. Walking over to the door slowly you opened it to reveal the one and only Clarisse La Rue in a pair of gray sweats and a blue crop top that hugged her arms just right, showing off all the muscle she had while her long bouncy curly hair was bulled back into a ponytail.

“Are you going to let me in or keep gawking at me?” She asked in a husky voice with a smirk on her face.

Your cheeks immediately went warm at her calling you out as you hurriedly stepped to the side to let her in. Closing the door behind her you made sure to lock the door before turning around, watching her look around your home.

“Nice place.” She nodded looking at you over her shoulder and you gave her a tight lipped smile.

“Thanks.” You nodded awkwardly not really knowing what to say, clearing your throat you asked. “Do you want a snack or something?”

Clarisse turned her body around to look at you and she not so secretly looked you up and down with a big cocky smirk forming on her face making you blush even harder than before.

“Yeah, I do actually.” She winked causing all the air to leave your lungs making you choke on air as she laughed loudly at your reaction.

“You’re disgusting.” You finally managed to choke out trying to act unaffected but you both knew you were making her smirk even wider.

“You’re the one that offered.”

“I meant food!”

“Sure you did, princess.”

——

“Writing an essay isn’t that hard if you have a good topic.” You began to explain as you sat beside her on the couch in your living room, scrolling through your laptop as she did the same on her own.

“But all these topics are boring.” Clarisse groaned lowly, throwing her head back with a huff. You leaned closer to her and looked at the list of prompts that your teacher gave your class to pick through and she wasn’t wrong the prompts were boring so you just did yours based off of your favorite hobby and why it wouldn’t be beneficial to teach at school.

“How about you do one about football?” You offered your assistance and Clarisse glanced at you.

“But it isn’t on the list.” She stated the obvious and you let out a light laugh making her confused.

“As long as you did the essay she shouldn’t be complaining. Most kids didn’t even do it.” You shrugged carelessly.

As long as the work is done and submitted your teacher shouldn’t have any complaints and if she did she can write the essay for Clarisse.

The quarterback looked at you with a look of disbelief on her face. She thought you did everything by the rules and didn’t take the easy way out of things but she could see she was indeed wrong about you.

“And here I thought you were a goody to shoes.” She cooed and you rolled your eyes but smiled at her.

“Just write something football related down as your prompt.” You nudged her jokingly and she did what she was told without putting up a fight.

Eventually she decided on why football was a great sport for high schoolers and to your surprise she had a lot of great ideas to support her argument. That’s when you realized Clarisse wasn’t dumb like you thought at first (not that you would ever tell her that) but that if it didn’t interest her, she couldn’t bring herself to do it if it was boring. So you made a mental reminder to speak to her teachers about adding football into their subjects because that’s what seemed to be what Clarisse was most passionate about.

If Clarisse was being honest she was pretty grateful for you. She’s been given tutors before and they all left her after the first session due to her not being interested in what they were saying but with you it was different. You actually listened and explained things in a way she could actually understand it without making her feel like she was stupid so that’s how you and Clarisse found yourselves meeting up every Friday afternoon at your place to work on school work together and if you were being honest sometimes you guys didn’t even do work, you talked and got to know each other better.

You learned her dad was a prick who left her and her mother when she was just a baby and because of his abandonment she had really bad anger issues which is why she joined the football team so she could get out all that pent up anger.

She learned that your mother was also a single mother who worked a lot of night shifts because she was a doctor so it was mostly you around the house and you tired to spend time with your mom as much as you could with her busy schedule.

You honestly thought helping her would’ve been a pain in the ass and that she wouldn’t do anything to entire time but it was the other way around. You were so focused on hating her for that one incident you didn’t realize how fun she was as a person and a great friend. Clarisse would be the one focused on getting her work done while you spoke about anything that came to mind and instead of judging you she just listened and added in her own comments here and there.

Due to your study sessions she stopped taunting you at school and to your surprise she actually comes up and talk to you in front of everyone. You just figured she would keep your friendship a secret from everyone so you wouldn’t ruin her reputation but you were wrong.

Her fan club that she gained over the year immediately despised you because they spent all their time trying to get her attention and you somehow managed to get it right away but the two of you didn’t care as long as you had each other to go to whenever you had a problem.

A friendship blossomed and everything was going great until you were asked to tutor another student. A girl named Amira who recently moved to town and she was a little behind and when your teacher saw how Clarisse’s D turned into A+ she immediately assigned you as Amira’s tutor and Clarisse hated it.

You were her tutor first so she doesn’t know why this random girl was trying to take all your attention away from her. At first she was fine with it as you found still hung out every friday but apparently Amira needed so much help that you had to cancel your usual friday hangouts to help Amira some more and that’s what sent Clarisse over the edge. She always looked forward to the end of the week because you were all her’s, all of your attention was on her and now it was gone and on someone else so she began playing her heart out on field and during practice, imagining all of the guys she tackled was Amira and her annoyingly high pitched voice.

Clarisse swore up and down that Amira begged you to tutor her on Friday nights just to get under her skin because when she asked you once and you agreed she looked at Clarisse and had the audacity to smirk and if Clarisse was being honest she was offended, who the hell does this girl think she is taking her girl like that.

You were quick to notice the change in Clarisse’s behavior when she started to become bitter and rude to you and if you were being honest it hurt.

Overtime you caught yourself getting feelings for the girl and you were honestly thinking she felt the same with how close the two of you became and how she would call you sweetheart or baby or when she simply just flirted with you but now you weren’t so sure. So you decided to ask your mom for advice Saturday night.

“-Now she’s being all snappy and mean.” You finished explaining everything to your mother as she got ready for her shift.

“Maybe she likes you.” Your mom said and you couldn’t help but scoff. Clarisse has never taken an interest in anyone and you were a fool to think she would like you.

“Trust me, she doesn’t.” You sighed sadly, bummed out about the situation. Clarisse was your best friend and it was killing you she was being a bitch.

Your mom walked over to you and sat a hand on your shoulder and gently made you look up at her. She smiled sweetly at you and leaned down to kiss your forehead with a dramatic kissing noise making you laugh.

“If you really want to know, you’re going to have to ask her, Sweetie. She’s the only one that has the answers you’re looking for.”

You silently let her words sink into your brain and nodded firmly. She was right, the only one who could give you an answer was Clarisse and you were determined to get one.

“You’re right, mama, thank you.” You hugged her tightly before kissing her goodbye as she grabbed her keys and left. Pulling your phone out of your pocket you sent Clarisse a very dramatic message saying that it was an emergency and that you were hurt.

You knew it was wrong to lie like that but it was the only way you could think of to get her to show up and to get here quickly and you were right because literally five minutes later you heard the familiar sound of her car pulling into your drive way and heavy knocks pounding on your front door. You opened the door and Clarisse immediately rushed past you, ranting and asking if you were ok.

“Are you hurt? Do I need to call your mom? The cops? Wait…do I have to call CPS-” Clarisse rambled and you looked at her like she just turned into a child.

“Clarisse,” You said sternly immediately getting her to shut up. “I’m fine.”

Clarisse paused and her concerned look immediately changed into a look of anger. “Princess, you don’t send a fucking message like that.”

Normally the nickname would’ve made you blush and act like a lovesick fool but instead you scoffed and crossed your arms, leaning your back against the door. “Well I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t ignoring me.”

You noticed her expression soften a little bit before it was immediately covered by her normal scowl that she gave everyone that wasn’t you, your mother and her’s.

“You don’t need me remember? You have Amira.” Clarisse said her name with a bitter tone and you looked at her confused.

“What the hell does Amira have to do with you ignoring me?” You huffed, puffing your lips out and Clarisse eyes immediately locked on them before they snapped back to your face.

“She’s your new best friend isn’t she?” Clarisse snapped and you looked at her in confusion before it suddenly clicked.

She was jealous, jealous of you and Amira spending so much time together that there wasn’t any left for her. It all made so much sense now, whenever you and Clarisse were talking at school and Amira came up to you guys you would always feel Clarisse stiffen up or the way she would mock Amira under her breath.

“You’re jealous.” You laughed with a smile forming on your face and once those words escaped your mouth Clarisse looked at you like you just smacked her across the face.

She was the Clarisse La Rue, she didn’t get jealous especially when it came to dumb blonde’s who tried her hardest to get you to hangout with her. She had guys and girls dropping at her feet everyday there was no reason for her to be jealous of any girl that tried to get close to you but she couldn’t stop the weird feeling in her stomach whenever she thought of you and Amira being in the library by yourselves or the thought of kissing you like she found herself wanting to do ever since she tripped you in the hallway.

The more she thought about you and Amira doing the things she wanted to do with you made her mad but you were too busy to notice because you were still laughing. Marching over to you Clarisse pinned you against the door with a glare on her face immediately making your laughing fit come to a stop and she smiled.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Cat got your tongue?” She taunted, smirking at the stunned look on your face. Her eyes scanned yours before she nervously licked her lips as she brought her face closer to yours to the point you could feel her breath on your face.

“Clari-”

She cut you off by smashing her lips onto yours in a hungry kiss. Her hands trailing down to squeeze your hips tightly, pulling you closer to her. Your hands slowly made their way into her thick curls and pulled causing her to groan into your mouth.

Clarisse was the first one to pull away but not for long as she began trailing kisses down your neck, sucking at a certain spot causing a small moan to escape your mouth. She bit down harshly on your neck, sucking on the same spot, leaving a dark and very noticeable hickey on the side of your neck. You threw your head back as small groans left your mouth as she continued to leave hickeys.

Clarisse smirked to herself as she imagined Amira’s reaction but it only made her leave more hickeys on your neck. After a while she pulled away and placed a soft kiss on your lips and immediately you kissed back only pulling away when you needed air.

“You’re mine.” Clarisse mumbled looking into your eyes before kissing you again and without hesitation you kissed her back.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo tv show #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #cringe

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paranoiddreams · 9 months ago

Text

Sukuna the secret softie (HC)

Sukuna is a powerful curse, and a merciless king. So when he starts to fall in love, he feels terrified, which in turn makes him even more terrified. Could he feel such emotions before?

Heian era!Sukuna x fem!reader

Warnings! - the slightest big suggestive lolz, fluff that makes my heart bleed :), Sukuna is emotionally constipated :P, kinda short :/

A/n! - This is my first time posting for jjk so pls be nice lol. I haven’t finished the anime/manga so this might be a lil ooc, but who cares😗. Anyways, I’m going crazy I need him :333!!!1!11!

- He’s secretly such a softie

- He is clingy, and touch starved, and probably doesn’t often have feelings for women past lust.

- But then he meets y/n and everything changes in an instant

- He easily makes her blush, and go silent, and yet he’ll feel his cursed heart twitch a little everytime :3

- Laughs a lot, because he’s actually a humorous guy!! Even if some, or most, people don’t find his humor…humor.

- And have you heard his laugh omfg it makes me wanna cu—

- Will make y/n shy on purpose, but is just as easily flustered by her.

- He doesn’t blush (he’s dead, therefore no blood flow for big papa) but he does have telltale signs that he’s a big flustered mess

- If he’s in his true form (yk with the four arms n shit) he’ll unconscious wrap the lower set around his waist and turn away with an ‘angry’ expression

- In reality, y/n probably just smiled at him, or said his hair looked cute that day, and he was in shambles.

- At first, Sukuna denies denies denies his feelings for y/n

- But then when she starts coming around more, and he starts learning more about her personality, it gets harder and harder to just pretend away his awfully human-like feelings

- It made him feel stupid

- And that’s what he told y/n when he confessed during a heated moment of panic

- They were in the village, looking around the farmers market for fresh food. Of course, since he’s da king🙌🏼👑, they give him, and the lady by his side, everything for free.

- But Sukuna being Sukuna, he didn’t want to be perceived as broke in front of his GIRL

- EVEN IF HE DENIES THAT SHES HIS GIRL OUT OF FEAR!

- So he turned to pay for everything with an extra tip (just for y/n bc she’s watching), but when he turned back she wasn’t there anymore

- The crowd swelled, and the King of Curses was hit with the realization that she could’ve been swept up into the bustling weekend rush, or an enemy from far lands has come to take the only person he’s ever been close with after death.

- He demanded that everyone halt with a deep, commanding voice, and of course they did as he said.

- He could hear a pin drop, it was so quiet.

- But then, he saw y/n and her adorable doe eyes looking up at him with confusion.

- When everyone went back to normal he was rendered speechless. If this was anyone else, he would’ve killed them.

- But when she whispers a little:

- “You okay, Kuna?”

- All of his fear and anger melts away.

- “No because I care for you, and it’s terrifying.”

- He doesn’t even know why he said that, so suddenly too, but that fear of losing y/n was paralyzing—even if it was just for a second.

- But by the end of the day, Sukuna was glad he admitted it, because it felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

- From that moment on he and y/n were, if it was even possible, even more inseparable.

- It was safe to say that that was the day y/n because Sukuna’s official Queen, and he her king<3

DISCLAIMER!! I do not own any characters from the Anime/Manga Jujutsu Kaisen. This is purely written for entertainment purposes.

#jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna headcanons #sukuna imagine #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #paranoiddreams

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websterss · 11 months ago

Text

LOVING YOU MORE THAN I HAVE BEFORE — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

REQUEST: hello!!! I saw ur inbox was open, so if ur still writing for Lockwood, could I pls request a Lockwood x fem reader where she thinks he loves Lucy but he really loves the reader? and they work together and are best friends?? if not that's totally okay. thanks anyway and have a nice day!!

WARNING(S): mentions of minor injury, angst, fluff at the end, stubborn reader, oblivious Anthony.

WORD COUNT: 4,063

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it love! Feedback is always welcomed! Also, I live and breathe on Alfie Juke's music lmfao. ALFIE JUKES - EYES WIDE

MASTERLIST

You had not meant to stare at them again as you helped George set up the iron chains. Their constant back-and-forth bickering distracted you from your tasks at hand. You had looked back to the pair, Anthony's low chuckle catching your attention. He had a way of distracting you especially in times where he shouldn't have been. A loud thump had broken their banter and before you knew it their eyes were cast onto you. You flinched and then released a hiss when the chain landed on top of your sneaker. Your eyes briefly met George's disapproving ones as you tried to act cool. Your cheeks were burning up from embarrassment, yet the ache running through your foot burned even more. You ducked your head to not meet anyone's stares. You moved slower now as bent down to fix the chain.

"S-Sorry…" You breathed out softly.

"Subtle." George quips quietly to you.

Anthony leaned against the wall eyeing you for a moment seeing the embarrassment written across your features. He took in the slight pout of your lips as you mumbled out an apology. He found it sweet how you shrunk back when you were embarrassed. Though as attentive as he was as a friend, he hadn't missed the way you tucked your right foot behind your left, trying to lay off it.

As though you could somehow sense his stare burn right through you, you quickly looked up. Your eyes wide as you caught him still looking down at you.

Anthony gave you a brief smirk seeing the way your eyes widened as they met his. He continued to study you for a moment, as his smirk shifted into a soft smile. "You alright?" He questioned, his voice quiet as he pushed himself from the wall, taking slow steps toward you.

"Yes." You rushed out as you staggered, trying to stand upright. You swallowed back your nerves as he approached you, a smile alknowing as he noticed you teeter on one foot. You caught where his gaze landed and straightened out. He hadn't missed the scrunch of your brows.

He bit back a laugh seeing you stagger slightly trying not to favor your left foot more. He looked over you again taking note of the way you were standing with such stiffness, as he lifted an eyebrow slightly. He knew you would deny it when he asked if you were okay, as you were stubborn when it came to accepting help. Instead, he looked down at your foot again and motioned his head toward it. "Let me see it." He couldn't help but find it endearing. He reached out to place a hand against your hip, steading you. "You're a horrible liar. Let me see."

"I-I'm fine." You try backing out of his arms but he doesn't let up. He flashes his all so charming grin that you hate and love with a passion.

"Then walk a few paces." He chuckled, gesturing to the bedroom doorway you all occupied. He knew he won when your eyes widened in panic.

"Anthony…" You warned.

He gave your hip a squeeze seeing your stubbornness start to waver. "Just do as I say, darling." He mused, his voice lower. Though he knew your stubbornness would make this difficult, as you hated looking vulnerable.

As reluctant as you were, you inhaled deeply and made your way to the door, with a slight limp. You cursed at yourself for letting your clumsiness get the better of you especially during on a job.

He could clearly see the way you were walking with a limp. He let out a huff of air, almost a tsk. Why were you so stubborn, he thought as he followed after you. He bit his tongue from calling you out for being stubborn, knowing it would only get him a scathing look.

"You're staying with George."

You whipped your head around, your mouth agape as you stared at him like he kicked your dog. Hurt, betrayed, pleadful. "No, I'm fine. I stayed with George on the last job. Anthony please. You just declared me able again, please. This isn't as bad as last time!"

His jaw was set as he saw the look of betrayal and hurt in your eyes. He hated that look, it got him every time. He pressed his lips into a flat line. There it was, the pleading look. It made him waver slightly but he didn't relent, his eyes narrowing. He reached out for you, but you had only moved away from his hand.

"Not different than last time?" He shakes his head. "You're staying with George." He said firmly, his voice low as he eyed you. "You know you've done something to your foot, and I'm not letting you out this room like this. You're not just going to suck it up and deal with it this time. End of discussion!" He ran a ring-clad hand through his messy hair, trying to fight the urge to let you continue. He knew you were tough, he knew you could handle yourself. He also knew you would push yourself to your limits and do something reckless.

"Bloody fucking hell, Lockwood! It's a limp for gods sake!"

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. He inhaled deeply as he stared you down. You were pushing his limit. He was trying to keep his cool, but you were testing him.

"I don't care if it's a bloody limp! You're not going into god-forbid, a potentially dangerous situation! Not like this!" He exclaimed, his voice raising slightly before he caught himself as he saw the look in your eyes. He ran a hand through his hair again, "I'm doing this to keep you safe! Something you're too bloody stupid to do yourself!"

He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, seeing the way your eyes widened, filling with water. He had never been so rough with you like that before. He was frustrated, but taking it out on you wasn't right. He didn't want to hurt you, he just wanted you safe.

"I'm sorry..." He exhaled deeply, his expression softening. "I didn't mean that, I just-" He cut himself off when you turned and descended the stairs of the house.

He cursed under his breath as he watched you spin away from him and head towards the stairs. He made a sharp movement to follow you but he stopped himself. He placed his hands on the dresser and leaned against it as he tried to fight down the guilt of his words, and his frustration. He knew he had said the wrong thing. He shouldn't have said that, but sometimes his emotions got the better of him. He knew you were capable, but you sometimes put yourself at risk without a second thought or you tried to hide your injury or pain.

"Lockwood!" Lucy pulled him out of his thoughts. "Anthony!"

"What?" He whipped around angry, angry with himself.

"It's past curfew!" George panicked, reminding him that you just slammed the front door. Lucy only shook her head as she rushed past him, sprinting after you in hopes to catch you.

"No, no, no!" He shouted, panic seeping into his voice as he realised what you had just done. He quickly glanced at the window, looking out, but the darkness limited what he could see. There was no way in hell he was letting you walk back alone at night, especially in your condition.

"I can't stand her sometimes!" He exclaimed as he made quick strides to the front door, practically ripping it open.

"What about the visitor?" George began collecting the equipment in a rush. Calling after Anthony.

"To hell with it, George. We'll come back later!" Is all George heard before another slam of the front door rattled through the house.

"Seriously!" George complained as he rushed down the stairs with the duffle bag. His wide eyes looking around for any signs of the visitor. He shook as he opened the front door and ran after his friends.

"I'm telling you, Lockwood. She's probably home already." Lucy was exhausted, it was nearing the 3am mark.

"She has a bloody limp, and it's almost 3 a.m, Luce." He seethed as he followed what little marks you left on the damp ground. He was angry with himself. He shouldn't have let it escalate like that, he should've controlled his emotions, and he just shouldn't have said what he said. Yet he should've known better, the last time he was out of time...your impulsiveness kicked in and you continued a job with a stab wound on your side that you didn't tell him about until you all were passed hthe threshold of the apartment. He almost cried, he did cry when you passed out on the floor. "You know her, she's probably walking around until she can't anymore out of bloody spite." He gritted through his teeth. His jaw was tight again and his tone was low as he kept his gaze locked on the path in front of him. The only thing illuminating their way was the streetlights as they walked down the long, dark street. "I know her. She's too stubborn to go back home. She'll probably end up at some park, and I'm going to throttle her when I find her!" He continued, his voice still cold but the worry was evident.

"You are aware she does it on purpose…?" George chimed in, keeping his head down.

"Of course I do! That's what pisses me off!" He exclaimed, his voice strained. He couldn't deny that you did these kinds of things on purpose just to spite him, and he hated it. He knew you enjoyed getting on his nerves, but it didn't make it any better. It only made it worse, and more frustrating.

"Do you know why though?" George eyed him curiosuly. He had to tell him, you could hate him forever for all he cared, he was tired of you skirting around and avoiding your feelings.

Anthony stopped in his tracks for a moment, turning slowly toward George. A frown tugged at his features as he regarded George with a curious expression, his eyes searching his friends face for something. He knew that look, it was the look of 'I know something that you don't'.

"What are you going on about..?" He questioned slowly, his expression guarded.

"George-" Anthony looked over to Lucy who shook her head at him.

"Ask for forgiveness later, right Luce? She does it to get your attention. Seeing as you'll only give it when you're angry with her."

Anthony froze, he froze right where he stood. He stood dumbfounded for a moment, his mouth slightly agape. "You're joking, right? You're telling me all those nights where I go insane trying to find her, or I yell at her for doing something incredibly reckless, she does it for what? My attention?" His voice was low and strained. He was having trouble processing what he was being told and he wasn't sure he was liking it.

Anthony stood silent for a moment, processing what George had just said to him. It hit him like a ton of bricks as the realization set in. He slowly turned his eyes back onto George once again, and he was at a loss for words.

"That's…" He exhaled, his mind already going into overdrive. "That's ridiculous. Why would she…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. He knew you did it to get his attention, he just hadn't put the pieces together the way George had.

"There's more..." Lucy shrinks in on herself. Shying away from his stare.

His eyes slowly shifted to Lucy, watching the way she turned away from him. There was a sinking feeling in his gut as he watched her reaction. He didn't like the way she was acting, and he didn't like what it made him feel. "More..?" He repeated, his voice low and wary, a sense of trepidation creeping over him.

"She thinks you like Lucy." George, peeked up at him. Then turned his head to Lucy.

Anthony's eyes widened slightly as he heard George speak. He slowly turned his head to look at Lucy who avoided his gaze. He let out a scoff of disbelief.

"She thinks…But I don't-" He exclaimed, his words trailed off as a realization dawned upon him. He looked between Lucy and George as a feeling of guilt began to settle in his chest.

"She's not clumsy on purpose Anthony…" George frowns. "She was watching you and Lucy earlier, she wasn't paying much attention to what she was doing…that's why the chain fell on her foot," George admits. "She's more purposely impulsive. Not clumsy."

Anthony's expression softened slightly, as the realization that you were jealous of his relationship with Lucy, no matter how friendly it was, sunk in. It made sense, he thought as he remembered a few times when you seemed off after he was teasing Lucy. He also didn't miss the way you would give him a few extra glances when you saw him with Lucy. He ran a hand through his messy locks as he exhaled deeply, his gaze shifting away from his friends. He didn't know how to begin to fix this.

He could feel his guilt grow as he now understood the reason for your actions. "She's...jealous..." He spoke slowly, it was more of a statement than a question.

"I'd say she's been more hurt than jealous. She likes you, Lockwood." Lucy sighs heavily.

Anthony's shoulders slumped slightly as Lucy spoke, her words confirming his suspicions and causing his guilt to deepen even more. He knew you had a tendency to act impulsively when you were hurt or upset, and your jealous behavior was just another way to cope with those feelings. Hearing it from his friends, though, only made it more real.

He let out a shaky exhale, his gaze still downcast. "I never…I never realized how much it bothered her…" He murmured, his voice thick with regret.

"We all thought you knew." George said.

Anthony let out a scoff that sounded more like a half-hearted laugh as he raised his head to look at them both.

"How could I have known? I thought she just did it to piss me off." He ran a hand through his messy locks, his expression betraying his guilt and regret. "All this time…I didn't realize that she…too much time has been wasted. Feelings unsaid..." He trailed off again, unable to finish his sentences. "Where do I even begin to get her to speak to me? To tell her that I- that I feel the same way!" He huffed out in relief. Feeling a weight leave his shoulder saying how he feels about you out loud and to his friends.

"You could start with an apology first of all. Then admit you're a bloody fool!" You exclaim behind them. You pout as you cross your arms on the bench you sit on.

Anthony's eyes widened and his expression changed as soon as he heard your voice behind him. He swiftly turned around to look at you, a mix of emotions playing across his face – surprise, guilt, relief, and also a hint of irritation.

"You-" He began, taken aback by your presence but also by your pouting. He exhaled deeply as he took a few steps towards you. "How long have you been there…?"

"Not going to throttle me anymore?" You raise a brow at him expectantly.

Anthony let out a sigh that sounded more like a small chuckle. Your words tell him just exactly how long you had been there. He stopped a few feet in front of you, his hands on his hips as he gazed intently at the pout on your face.

"No, I'm not going to throttle you.." He said, his voice softer now. "Though I'd like to, very much." He admitted, his irritation clear in his tone.

"Shame…" You hum, eyeing his disheveled state. Then to Luce, and George standing back.

Antony watched you as you sat there on the bench, your arms crossed stubbornly. Your nonchalant comment causes his irritation to rise again, and he can't help but smirk in response. A hint of blush painted his cheeks as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Shame, huh? Don't tempt me." He spoke, attempting to sound lighthearted but failing miserably, the irritation still evident in his tone. He could practically hear the sarcasm in your voice. He glances at George and Lucy, watching their reaction before returning to yours. Their looks of concern and curiosity were etched on their faces.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He inquired, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.

The corners of your lips lift. You pinch your forefinger and thumb together in amusement. Your right eye shuts as you mouth 'a little bit'.

The sight of you sitting there, clearly taking great satisfaction in his frustration, only further fueled his mixed emotions. He rolled his eyes once more, a mocking scoff leaving his lips. He had to fight the urge to shake you by the shoulders out of sheer frustration.

"Of course you are…." He muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he took another step closer, now only a mere few feet away. "Let's get you home..."

"That's it…"

Anthony's eyebrow raised at your comment, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips at your defiant tone. He took another step forward, closing the small distance between the two of you completely. He looked down at you, his eyes studying you.

"That's what..?" He inquired, his tone almost mockingly calm. He could see the stubborn glimmer in your eyes and he knew what was coming next.

"'I'm a fool, I shouldn't have yelled at you my darling, Y/n'-" You feign despair.

Anthony rolled his eyes once again, his smirk growing into a playful yet strained smile. He crossed his arms over his chest once more, his gaze fixed on you as you continued to speak.

"Very funny." He shot back sarcastically, his tone dripping with mock annoyance. "You, want me, to grovel."

"I wouldn't mind you on your knees." You smirk up at him.

Anthony's eyes widened slightly and a flush crept onto his cheeks at your retort. He had a feeling you would say that, but he couldn't help the way his stomach did a little somersault at your words. He quickly composed himself, a mixture of surprise and mild irritation on his face.

"You're testing my patience…" He replied, doing his best to ignore the way his heart quickened at the thought of the image those words put in his head.

"Mine's already gone, Anthony." Your stare grows cold.

Anthony's smirk faded from his face, and a pang of guilt washed over him as you said his name in that cold, detached tone. He suddenly felt terrible for the countless times he yelled and scolded you since you met, for all the times he snapped at you when you teased him, for the times he lost his temper when others gave you attention. He could see the hurt in your expression and hear it in your voice. His gaze softened somewhat as the realization hit him and he sighed heavily. It doesn't take him long before he's knelt before you.

"I know… and I'm sorry-" He began, his voice quieter now, less snarky. "I shouldn't have raised my voice at you. I shouldn't have called you stupid because you're not. You're incredibly smart, and I'm a fool…one who loves you." He meets your eyes as your breath hitches. "It appears I wasn't exactly obvious with my feelings towards you. It was my mistake thinking you knew of them." Anthony sighs as he confesses. He ran a hand through his messy locks as he exhaled deeply, his heart feeling like a weight in his chest. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I didn't…realize how deeply you felt about me. And I'm sorry for not seeing it sooner. For not giving you the attention you deserve. For all the times I've yelled at you, and called you stubborn, and-" He trailed off, his voice getting caught in his throat. "For not telling you sooner...I'd understand if you never want to forgive me."

"Fool…" You breathe out a laugh as you reach forward to caress his face.

Anthony's lips twitch into a faint smile as he watches you reach up to touch his face. He leans into your hand slightly, the feeling of your touch calming him. He closes his eyes momentarily, letting your touch soothe him.

"Does that mean you accept my apology..?" Anthony inquired quietly, opening his eyes once more to meet your gaze, a hint of hope in his expression.

"Depends..." Your eyes shift with something mischievous behind them.

Anthony's eyebrows raise slightly as he notices the hint of mischief in your eyes. He knows that look, and it instantly makes him slightly wary. But at the same time, he can't help being curious about what you're planning.

"On what?" He prompts a hint of playfulness in his tone. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he can't hide the hint of a smile that threatens to form at the corners of his lips.

Your arms immediately shoot up, as though you want to be...

Anthony's eyes widen in surprise at how suddenly your arms shoot up in the air. It takes him a moment to realize what you might be hinting at, and his face flushes with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"You want me to carry you, of course you do!" He replies with a small chuckle.

"Please…"

Anthony rolls his eyes with a playful grin on his face. Despite his feigned irritation, he can't deny the fact that he kind of enjoys you asking him to carry you. He lets out a mock sigh, pretending to be reluctant.

"Alright, if I must…" He teases, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. He turns around and bends down enough for you to jump onto his back. He grabs onto your legs securing your weight against his.

Anthony glanced in Lucy and George's direction as they chuckled. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly at their reactions. He could practically feel the smugness radiating off of them as he carried you piggyback-style.

"Stop laughing, both of you." He muttered under his breath, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. He shifted his grip on you, making sure you were settled on his back.

"I shall commute home like this more often." You hum.

Anthony scoffed playfully as he began walking with you on his back. He couldn't help but smile at your statement, though he attempted to maintain a neutral expression.

"Oh, is that so?" He teased, his tone lighthearted. "And what makes you think I'm going to carry you home like this every time?"

"You're love for me."

Anthony's cheeks flush at your words, and he rolls his eyes. But secretly, deep down, he can't deny the truth in them. Hearing you say it out loud, coupled with the way you were currently clinging to his back, made his heart skip. He tried to respond in a snarky manner, but his voice betrayed him, coming out softer than he intended.

"Touché." He admitted, a hint of fondness in his voice.

"I love you too..." You mutter low enough for his ears only.

Anthony's heart skipped a beat when you whispered those three simple words to him. His grip on your legs tightened slightly, and he felt his cheeks flush even more. Your words had the ability to both fluster and comfort him at the same time. The way you said it, low and quiet, for his ears only, made his chest feel warm and his heart swell with affection.

He took a shaky breath and responded in a hushed tone, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know...and I love you more." His head turned to meet your eyes, widened and crinkled with hints of joy and surprise. It makes his heart swell with mixtures of emotions and relief, knowing that he's made you happy after all the tension that had built up between you two. He continues walking, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he glances back at you. Your head resting against his shoulder, feeling safe and secure in his hold.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood imagines #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood oneshot #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co #my gif #writings by juls: anthony lockwood #writings by juls

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