#venus x reader fanfic when

[venusandsaturnsrings]

˚✧₊⁎ there is smthn inherently erotic abt havin sum1 else pull up or adjust ur thigh highs… ermm does any1 wanna volunteer to tug up mine?? :3 venus thigh pic for ur consideration!!

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight pound baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of royalty that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 10

18+ / NSFW!!!! MDNI!!!!!

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~6.7k words

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff! but with tension!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, did I mention tension!?, some alcohol consumption, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

Chapter Content: smut (NSFW c/w below the cut!), kissing, making out, some unwanted advances by an NPC on Y/N!, hannie gets a little jealous

My Masterlist

NSFW Chapter Content: dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (please practice safe sex!), Jeonghan has a corruption kink and a ‘sir’ kink!, scolding/light degradation, edging/orgasm denial, some manhandling w/o establishing ground rules (please communicate before you do any kind of roughhousing in the bedroom ok? these two just happen to like the same thing!), nicknames: sir (for JH), ‘little whore’ (just once for Y/N).

Author’s Note: We’ve reached the final chapter!! I decided to end this series with Y/N and JH’s first time having sex together because I wasn’t rly sure how to end it without literally writing an entire series of novels lol (not that I WOULD’NT!). Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reblogged/liked this series!! It’s my first fanfic series for Seventeen and I had so much fun! I’m working on a school life AU fic featuring Wonwoo and a dystopian AU featuring DK next!! 😊

Taglist: @yeoberryx @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh  @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @Illucere @lukeys-giggle

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

You had never been to Paris, but it fit how you’d pictured it almost exactly. The filigreed architecture, the wide, cobble-stoned streets, the elegant storefronts along the Champs Elysée... you were drinking it all in on the car ride to the hotel.

You had your own hotel room, which was more than you had expected. The designer brands had sprung for an entire floor, accommodating single rooms for each member and their staff—an upside of having so many brand ambassadors in one group.

You didn’t exactly have time to settle in, however. Your next event was taking place in the afternoon the following day and you and the other staff still needed to coordinate with each venue’s security on exactly when the members would arrive at their respective events. For you, this meant another car ride to YSL’s offices, where you and other staff would discuss details and procure badges for the runway show and afterparty the next day.

You dropped your bag down on the hotel bed, barely absorbing the luxurious room before you heard a knock at the door.

It was Yoon Jeonghan.

“Nuna,” he said as he waltzed right past you and into your hotel room. You instinctively looked out into the hallway, eyes wide, making Jeonghan laugh as he took off his shoes and sprawled out onto the bed, making himself at home.

“It’s more suspicious when you do that, you know,” he said, and you immediately shut the door and quietly—but urgently—told him to keep his voice down.

“What are you doing here?” you basically whispered, getting closer to where he was lying on the bed.

“You don’t want me to be in here?” The look he gave you was somewhere between a smirk and a pout, but the glint in his eyes made you pretty certain why he was here.

“Jeonghan-shi,” you said politely but firmly.

“Oh, professional mode,” he said—in English, too, just so it was crystal clear that he was making fun of you. You just fixed him with a glare, which unfortunately only made his grin wider.

“I have to go to the YSL office with the other staff soon, so I don’t have time to entertain you right now.”

“That’s okay, I’ll just watch you get ready.” The look on his face seemed to challenge you to kick him out as he laid back on the bed, fully spectating now.

“Okay, fine,” you said, deciding to call his bluff and quickly unzipping your bag, taking out your makeup and other supplies to freshen up a bit before you had to leave. Does he actually just want to be in here with me? You wondered, finding the idea hard to believe. Jeonghan could be doing a million things right now—it wasn’t often that he got to relax away from the commotion of the other members and their constant schedules. You knew he had tonight off, and that he could at least get dinner with Joshua or Mingyu... but he was in here, in your room, instead—watching you carefully as you sat at the sleek, modern-style vanity table in the corner of the room combing out your airplane hair with your fingers.

“Nuna, you didn’t bring a hairbrush?” he asked, sounding almost like a little kid.

“No, I forgot it,” you said, slightly embarrassed at even this extremely minor error. You’d moved on to gently patting your face with oil blotting paper as you saw Jeonghan walking out of the room.

“You can use mine; I’ll be right back.” It was a pretty innocuous thing, just lending you his hairbrush... But something about the way he’d said it... so casually, the way that a boyfriend would talk to you, made your heart leap a little bit.

Sure enough he returned with a hairbrush, but rather than handing it to you, he came up behind where you were seated in front of the small mirror and started gently brushing out your hair for you, making you tense up at first, but gradually relaxing under his touch.

Wow, you thought, unsure of the last time someone had brushed your hair for you... You honestly couldn’t even remember if your mom brushed your hair as a child. This feels nice.

You closed your eyes before even realizing it, the sensation of Jeonghan softly brushing out your hair was so relaxing. Jeonghan glanced at your face in the reflection of the vanity mirror, his heart squeezing inexplicably at your clearly exhausted expression. After a minute, he stopped brushing, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of your head.

Your eyes flung open at the feeling of his sweet kiss, and you whirled around awkwardly, eliciting a laugh from him.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” he teased in a low voice, “but you looked like all you want to do is sleep just now.”

The thought of staying here, ordering room service, and having Jeonghan’s fingers gently run through your hair, lulling you to sleep... to be honest, nothing sounded more appealing. But you couldn’t abandon your responsibilities, no matter how tempting it was.

By some stroke of genius (or insanity) your hand reached up to Jeonghan’s face, cupping the side of his cheek before gently running over your thumb over the cute mole under his eye. You were struck by how good his skin looked, even right after a long flight. It was so soft... He smiled at the touch, nuzzling into your hand slightly before you stood up and whispered to him.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t go,” he answered in a low voice immediately, shooting some kind of electric charge right through your body. He’d told you not to go on the plane, too.

I don’t want to go.

You were both standing close together now, his eyes trailing down your face, then down your neck, all the way down your body it seemed. You wanted so badly to pull him into an eager, hungry kiss, but you felt that if you started you wouldn’t be able to stop...

But a rap at your door cut the tension immediately, making the pit of your stomach drop.

“Y/N-shi,” it was the sound of Jeonghan’s manager’s voice. “Are you ready? We’re going to head downstairs.”

“I’ll be right down, thank you!” you said quickly.

You bolted to your bag, pulling out a blazer to throw over your t-shirt and jeans from the flight.

“You’re so jumpy,” Jeonghan pouted, having been on the verge of kissing you—actually, more like devouring you. The truth was you were driving him insane. That worried but determined look in your eye, the gentle waves in your hair after he’d brushed it—you looked like a princess. Something powerful inside him wanted to...

Wanted to what exactly? This feeling he had looking at you—bleary-eyed from the plane, but somehow still gorgeous—it wasn’t violent... but it was intense.

Like he wanted to... corrupt you.

He realized he’d never felt this kind of urge before. But he wanted to see your pretty, innocent face blush dark red while he did filthy things to you. Things that you may have even done before... he couldn’t say because he didn’t know that much about your past experiences in the bedroom, really, and honestly he didn’t care. Your whole aura exuded innocence to him, and he knew it might be wrong but truthfully... it drove him up the wall.

You didn’t really pick up on this, though, now having been thrown back into reality—where your professional responsibilities laid in wait for you. You quickly rummaged through your things in your carry-on, desperate to find where your folder of schedules and contracts was buried.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” Jeonghan said, unable to ignore your frantic rush out the door and trying to bring you back to him with his soothing voice. You were so affected by your work. You cared a lot. It was plain to see how big your heart was.

Jeonghan knew he was being selfish. He knew that you were making the choice to go out the door right now, and that your job came first... but he’d been finding it more and more difficult to resist getting close to you, teasing you, touching you...

“Will I see you later?” You turned to Jeonghan before leaving, trying to ignore his blatantly hungry stare.

“Mmhm,” he hummed sweetly right away, his eyes almost boring through you. His gaze was so intent, so tempting that all you could do was immediately slam the door behind you, practically running to the lobby.

***

The meeting with YSL was briefer than you thought it would be. It turns out, their team really just wanted to get drinks. They asked you and the other staff to go out with them, and you could hardly refuse.

“We can discuss business over some wine, yes?” The tall gentleman in the impeccably-cut suit said to you—he was apparently a production director who worked with a lot of brands during Fashion Week. You didn’t like the way he had guided you by the small of your back into the dimly lit bar, but you brushed it off as him just being friendly.

You were honestly too exhausted for drinks and wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, your chest still fluttering after the way Jeonghan had looked at you before you’d left.

“Where did you learn French?” the tall man asked you. You were now seated around a low table on red, velvety booths at the back of the chic bar. “It sounds like you’ve been speaking for a long time.” You were flattered that he was complimenting you—sincerely, too, by actually speaking to you in French instead of English. A seal of approval, you had learned.

“Oh, I kind of learn languages as a hobby,” you said.

“Y/N-shi is our language ace,” one of your coworkers said.

“That’s a good asset to have, indeed,” the man said, “I’ve never met someone who does something so laborious for fun.” He was kind of sprawled out on the bench, right next to you. He had his arm draped casually along the back of the seat behind you, which wouldn’t have bothered you if he hadn’t also been looking at you up and down... This guy felt sleazy. And you were pretty sure that he was trying to neg you with that ‘laborious’ comment.

“Yeah, I’m very into boring activities,” you said sarcastically in French, and then repeated it to your coworker in Korean, who mercifully laughed, hopefully picking up that you wanted her to stick around in the conversation so you wouldn’t be cornered by this guy.

“You don’t seem to have time to get bored with how hard you work,” the guy said, “Live a little.” He was changing his strategy. He had turned fully toward you now, the first two buttons of his shirt coming undone under his blazer. His cologne smelled overwhelming. You didn’t like the grin he flashed you with the words ‘live a little.’ His whole aura made your stomach turn. Your mind flashed to the smell of Jeonghan’s perfume. Much more subtle and beautiful...

“That’s true,” you said stiffly, before deciding that you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m so sorry, but I am actually starting to get a headache—” you tried to politely extract yourself from the conversation, standing up as you made your excuse, but the man suddenly grabbed hold of your wrist.

“Oh, don’t go just yet,” he said, obviously trying to keep his tone lighthearted, “the night is young!”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, adamant about keeping things professional, although now you’d put it together that this whole meeting was probably an excuse to go out and hit on the women in your team all along, “It’s been a long day, I’m going to go back to the hotel.” Your tone was firm enough to leave no room for interpretation, but you turned to your other colleague, indicating with your eyes that you needed help getting this guy off of you. Thankfully, she picked up on it.

“Yes, Y/N-shi,” she said quickly in her broken but polite French, “I saw you didn’t sleep much on the plane—go get some rest!” You couldn’t have been more grateful that she said that. The guy’s grip loosened on you, and you took the opportunity to quickly leave—not even looking behind you or saying goodbye to the others.

It’s not like similar things had never happened before. Working in this industry, especially on the production side of things, you met all kinds of sleazy guys like that. You were just glad that he hadn’t been drunk enough to make a scene.

But still, you felt agitated now.

Who does he think he is grabbing a total stranger like that, angry, indignant feelings swirled through you in the cab back to the hotel, and we’re supposed to work together this week...

Your mood hung heavy over you as you finally returned, opening the door of your hotel room with a click, relieved to at least be back in your own space.

But the space wasn’t entirely your own, it seemed. You entered to find Jeonghan, dozing off on your bed.

He looked just as angelic as he had sleeping on the plane. You quietly took off your shoes and shrugged off your blazer. Normally, you’d be panicked about him still being in here... in your bed, no less. For a split second you considered calling the front desk to send you a roll-away bed. That’s something hotels do, right? But even your inner rule-follower seemed to scoff at how absurd the idea was. Who am I kidding? Honestly, you were too tired to even fight with yourself. Of course you were going to crawl right into bed next to Yoon Jeonghan. Of course you had imagined moments like this for months—though, not exactly under these circumstances.

You quietly got your things from your bag, changing and getting ready for bed as silently as possible in the bathroom.

But Jeonghan’s eyes had fluttered open when you returned.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice coming out so sweet and sleepy it made your heart ache a bit.

“Ah, did I wake you up?” you asked softly.

“No, no,” he said in a quick and reassuring voice. You liked how he did that when it was clear someone was worried. You could clearly see he didn’t want the people around him to overthink things and get stressed out, so he was always quick to reassure them. Including you.

“Come here,” he said, motioning for you to lay in his arms. Your heart pounded, more self-conscious now that he was awake. But you crawled into bed next to him, despite feeling like you might turn to dust right then and there.

“How was your meeting?” he asked softly as you nestled into his chest, his arms wrapping around you sweetly, one hand smoothing down your hair... You could almost cry it felt so sweet and nurturing when he did that.

“Oh, it was—” you weren’t sure what to say. It wasn’t really a meeting, more like an odd excuse to go out and hit on the female staff...

But Jeonghan picked up on a shift in your tone right away.

“Did something happen?” He asked, gently brushing your hair away from your face, tucking it sweetly behind your ear. He was so close to you. This was the closest you had been since he’d come to your apartment that night. You didn’t want to talk about some sleazy guy on the production staff, you just wanted to fall asleep in Jeonghan’s arms, his hand petting you sweetly until you both drifted off... But Jeonghan’s curiosity was piqued even more by your pause.

“It’s nothing,” you sighed, “Just some French asshole.” Jeonghan’s hand stopped mid-brush along your hair.

“Who? What asshole?” his voice was still low and quiet, but he propped himself up a bit on his elbow to look directly at you.

“This guy who works on these runway shows,” you said, “He was just... he didn’t seem to be very professional.”

“What does that mean?”

Whoa, he’s worried, you realized.

“It’s nothing, Jeonghan,” you said, taking Jeonghan’s face between your hands, suddenly feeling anxious at his reaction, “they took us out to drinks, which I think was the point of the meeting all along, and he was just clearly only interested in flirting with the women there.”

“With the women there, or with you?”

“...What’s wrong?” It was strange for you to see Jeonghan react this way. You hadn’t seen him this amped up before, though he was still speaking at a low volume. You didn’t expect it—he always seemed so unflappable. He seemed to snap out of it at your question, though, quickly turning away from you. You could tell that he was embarrassed.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he said after a moment, his immaturity dawning on him, making him feel ashamed that he had reacted so hastily. The thought of other men hitting on someone he was seeing usually didn’t bother him... But the thought of someone else putting you in a position like that made him kind of furious. He faced you again, his stomach sinking at the look on your face—desperate and exhausted.

“Sorry,” he repeated, his tone calmer and sweeter, apologetically brushing your cheek, “I just don’t like that some idiot was making you uncomfortable.”

Your pulse raced. You had to admit... he seemed to feel bad about it, but it felt kind of nice to see him get protective like that...

“Let’s forget about him,” you said softly. It was like the words fell straight onto Jeonghan’s heart, making it flip over. He gazed at you; his eyes unable to hide how badly he wanted you. He pulled you closer, embracing you under the covers now. The tightening grip of his arms around your waist filling you with butterflies. It felt good to be held by him. You nuzzled your face deeper into his chest, making him want to squeeze you even closer, you were being so cute.

You felt Jeonghan’s hand take a gentle hold of your head, tilting it up toward him, and before you could think, he was kissing you. His lips felt so soft... but the way he was sweetly teasing your lips made some deep urge within you come to life.

You leaned into his kiss, pressing into him with a little more eagerness. He noticed, taking the cue to deepen the kiss, gripping your head in both of his hands now as you two laid there, making out in the hotel bed.

It wasn’t long until you were whimpering quietly against his lips. He traced your bottom lip with his tongue before pulling away slightly... Hovering over you now, your eyes meeting to exchange a brief, craving look before he smoothly hooked his thumb into your mouth, forcing it open, and dove in again, kissing you much more aggressively.

Jeonghan’s tongue invaded your mouth and you couldn’t help moaning sweetly into him, the vibration making his body heat up even more. You looked so beautiful and desperate... He wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes off and fuck you right away—make you pant, beg, scream... But he knew it would be better to take his time.

Not that you couldn’t tell how hungry he was for you—the pleading feeling of his tongue, the way his hands were starting to roam over you. It occurred to you that Jeonghan had wanted to do this with you for a long time.

As he kissed you, your mind began to melt—falling further and further into the realm of total surrender.

Jeonghan could feel your body relaxing beneath him. Not to mention the way you were openly and greedily responding to his kisses.

She likes this.

You felt his fingertips slip underneath your pajama top; his hand cool against your skin as it slid up your bare stomach. You wrapped your arms around his neck, not discouraging him. His other hand was still holding your face firmly beneath his as he continued to feverishly make out with you. You could hear the soft, lapping noises of your kissing echoing through the room...

Suddenly you let out a yelp—louder than you’d intended—when you felt his hand ghost over your breast, his thumb brushing lightly against your already-pert nipple through the fabric of your cute, lacey bralette.

You felt Jeonghan smile against your lips, satisfied at your reaction.

“Mm, Y/N-ah you’re going to get us in trouble if you’re that loud,” he murmured in your ear, teasing you before trailing more kisses down your neck—making you gasp softly at the feeling of his silky, wet lips; reflexively gripping his shoulders.

He was making his way down your body, and you knew that if he went any further you might not be able to handle it... but with all of the pleasure coursing through you, gathering in the pit of your stomach, making your legs start to squirm... you didn’t want him to stop.

Jeonghan nipped at your collarbone, making you draw your breath in sharply before he continued to kiss you over your top—the space between your breasts, your abdomen, just below your belly button... You could feel your breathing getting more ragged the lower his face got.

His lips arrived at the space between the waistband of your pajama shorts and the raised hem of your top—his hand was still up your shirt, holding onto the sensitive spot along the bottom hem of your bra on one side. He looked up at you. His expression made it feel like he was challenging you, but you knew he was waiting for permission to go further. You had no idea what kind of face you were making... you felt like you could scream, your body felt so overwhelmed already.

In an attempt to control your volume, you bit into your own hand before glancing down at Jeonghan with your best “please continue” look.

He honestly didn’t care what kind of look you gave him; all he knew was the way you were desperately biting your own hand was hot enough for him to throw caution to the wind and discard your top for you. He pulled it over your arms and flung it aside in one fluid motion before returning to the space between your belly button and the waist of your shorts... kissing the sensitive spot sweetly while hooking his fingers underneath the band and pulling your shorts down to reveal your absolutely soaked underwear.

“Ah, who knew Y/N-ah was such a dirty girl,” he pretending to chide you in a low, commanding tone. Your stomach lurched at his words as your legs instinctively tried to snap together, your hand flying down from your mouth to try to cover yourself from his up-close view. But Jeonghan caught you by the wrist, forcing your hand to the side and holding it in place against the bed. He was surprisingly strong, and the decisive way he averted your attempt to cover yourself... did something to you.

You wouldn’t say that you were the kinkiest person out there... not by a long shot. But you couldn’t pretend you didn’t like being dominated a little. Especially by Yoon Jeonghan.

“No hiding,” Jeonghan’s command sent an electric shot right through you with his direct gaze and scolding tone.

“Yes, sir,” you said before thinking. There was a pause as you realized what you’d just called him, your hand writhing under Jeonghan’s grip in a futile attempt to cover your face out of embarrassment. Since when did you call people ‘sir!?’ Had you ever said that to someone!? Your eyes were wide and your face hot with disbelief, completely mortified.

You peeked down at Jeonghan, worried that he’d be weirded out by you calling him that out of nowhere, but he didn’t look weirded out at all...

If anything, he looked feral.

“Good girl,” he hummed, his smirk making it apparent just how turned on he was. It wasn’t just that you had called him ‘sir,’ but your cute, flustered reaction made him want to push your buttons even further. He kept his gaze directed at you as he placed his head between your legs again, watching as you averted your eyes—too overwhelmed to watch as he kissed the sweet wet spot that had formed on your underwear. So fucking cute, he couldn’t help thinking, enjoying this rare opportunity to see you so helpless. His lips started teasing you, planting wet kisses against your folds, with only the drenched fabric of your underwear standing between your bare cunt and his mouth. The embarrassment of him being so up close made your whole body flare up. Your legs were trembling with anticipation as you felt Jeonghan’s mouth moving before sucking lightly on your clit—making you moan, your back arching from the effort of trying not to be too loud or squirm too much.

Jeonghan was grinning against your underwear now. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. She can’t stand it. Your squirming, whimpering voice was too sexy. He wished he could watch you all hot and bothered like this forever, edging you until you cried.

He finally let go of your wrist, sitting back on his heels and making sultry eye contact with you before removing your underwear.

“Ah, I knew it,” he said softly, “nuna’s pussy is perfect.”

You couldn’t help turning your face to the side. You were so wound up that you didn’t know how to even react, like your mind wasn’t even aware of what your body was doing.

You felt Jeonghan shift his position slightly, threading his arms beneath your knees now so that your thighs were resting on his shoulders and he could grip your waist with his hands. Your face snapped toward him, something like fear rushing through you at the realization that he could see all of you up close now. He noticed the look of panic in your eyes and kissed the inside of your thigh sweetly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a velvety, whispered tone. He bent his head down and kissed the space just above your clit softly.

You threw your head back, biting your lip to contain the filthy sounds that were threatening to burst out of you as he began to lick and kiss your folds. His earlier kisses were delicious, but his mouth working delicately at your soaking wet cunt felt unreal.

“Mmm,” he moaned into you, the vibration stimulating you so harshly and suddenly that your hand flew down to his hair, taking the soft strands into your grip before you could even control yourself. But this only made him go harder at devouring you... He held you down by the hips, your legs shaking with ecstasy.

“Ah, Jeonghan-ah...” you moaned his name, making him murmur in satisfaction against your pussy, loving the sensation of you tugging his hair as his tongue dove in and out of you. He moved his head slightly, taking your clit between his lips and sucking on you. This threw you into a full-bodied convulsion. He wished you could just scream out the way you clearly wanted to... 

“Ah, I’m gonna come—” you breathed, certain that if he continued to fuck you with his tongue like this, you would surely get his face covered in your juices. The thought of it made you desperate to get him off of you and eager for him to keep going at the same time.

“Mmm, I can feel you tighten around my tongue when I put it in,” he mused against you, making you laugh nervously, caught off guard by such a specific and perverted comment. He took the opportunity to eat you even more vigorously, his tongue lapping up your juices as your clit twitched out of control...

You were about to succumb to a powerful orgasm, when suddenly the sensation of Jeonghan’s tongue disappeared.

You jerked your head up in confusion, only to see that Jeonghan was now standing at the end of the bed, giving you an incredulous look as he started casually removing his shirt.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, feigning innocence, “I thought you knew that if you want to come, you have to ask nicely.”

Your breathing was heavy, making your chest rise and fall dramatically as you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smirked, his lips and chin still glistening with your arousal. His taunting look turned you on way more than you wanted to admit. You gulped in air, trying to catch your breath. Jeonghan was down to just his underwear now, and you could see the burgeoning outline of his cock pressing against the black fabric of his briefs.

Alright, if you want to play that game...

You sat up, softening your face but still holding Jeonghan’s cruel gaze. You made your way to all fours on the bed before him and looked up, attempting your best coquettish face.

“Please, sir,” you said in a poutier tone than you normally used, batting your eyelashes and everything. “Please let me come.”

Jeonghan’s face almost cracked into a full-blown smile, making you feel smug for calling his bluff. Honestly, he didn’t think he could stand it either if that’s how you were going to be. The erotically pure sound of your voice, the angle of your sweet eyes gazing up at him, your begging tone... He didn’t think he could get any harder looking at you but somehow you’d provoked him even more.

He took your jaw roughly in his hand, jerking your face up further to meet his wolfish gaze.

“Better,” he said, “but not quite nice enough.” He enjoyed the flash of panic in your eyes almost as much as the glare that followed. Letting go of his grip on your face, he bent down to unhook your bra. His face was closer to yours now, and you could tell that he was reaching his limit, too.

“Sir, could I please make you feel good then?” you asked, your voice soft and syrupy sweet.

Jesus, Jeonghan thought, chuckling now at how outrageously turned on and amused he was by you toying with him like this.

He removed your bra, exposing your cute boobs. You sat up, suddenly nervous again and attempting to cover yourself from being totally naked in front of Jeonghan like this. Your abdomen was aching with want, your pussy still dripping from him going down on you... But his voice brought right back to the task at hand.

“What did I say about hiding?” he snapped at you, and you hurriedly lowered yourself back down to all fours, giving him an exaggerated, apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, “please, let me make you feel good.”

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?” he asked, his tone mocking.

“Could I suck your cock?” you quirked your head cutely to the side, puffing out your lower lip and hoping that this would be enough to please him.

“What do you say?” he asked, but he was grinning—already palming his hard length, clearly enjoying this...

“Pretty please?” you smiled sweetly, and Jeonghan almost groaned he was so overwhelmed with how sexy and cute you were being. How could he have known that you would turn into this perfect, provocative sex kitten for him? How did he get so lucky?

“Good girl,” he said and he let his stiff length spring from his briefs as they fell to the floor. You couldn’t help letting a small gasp escape your lips. You should have expected his cock to be just as pretty as the rest of him, but this man had the most beautiful dick you’d ever seen. You looked up at him again, smiling gently, before taking his tip into your mouth, teasing his slit a little with your tongue. Jeonghan let his head fall back, the feeling of your mouth on him making him groan in pleasure.

You gradually worked his cock further and further into your mouth, swirling your tongue in slow, sensuous circles around his girth before getting into a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length. He looked down at you, gritting his teeth from the stimulation you were giving him. You were talented at this. You probably wouldn’t say so, but Jeonghan could tell; your obliviousness to how sexy you were just making him desire you more.

He took a fistful of your hair in his grip, gently helping to push his cock into your throat. You made a slight gagging noise, but didn’t show any sign of stopping—instead grabbing onto his thighs to support yourself as you picked up the pace.

Jeonghan was moaning, but conscious of not getting too loud. He sounds so good, you thought as you sucked your cheeks in, maximizing the pressure on his cock. You held onto him tightly, sure from his grip on you that he was getting close to coming.

But before you could finish him off, he pulled you away from his dick by your hair, your mouth releasing from him with a pop as his grip forced your face roughly upward  to look straight into his ravenous eyes.

“You little whore.” His voice might have been low and seductive, but there was a bemused smirk on his face as he called you the degrading nickname. You couldn’t help smiling a little, too, feeling cocky at him lashing out like that—clearly you’d almost made him come before he wanted to.

But you couldn’t say he looked mad. He was grinning softly, still holding you roughly by your hair as both of you panted, challenging each other with the respective gleams in your eyes, held upright only by the tension of the other’s grip.

After a moment of catching your breath, Jeonghan closed the gap between you with another deep, gluttonous kiss. His arms wrapped around you and you felt his hard cock—wet now with his precum and your spit—press into your lower abdomen from his standing position as you held onto him, still on your knees atop the bedspread.

Jeonghan guided you backward onto the bed with his body, crawling on top of you as he pushed his tongue further into your mouth. You could faintly taste your own come still left on his lips. He raised your arms above your head, holding you down by your wrists and making you squirm beneath him. He left hungry, heavy kisses along your jaw, your neck, moving down to your chest... You mewled with pleasure at the feeling of his tongue capturing one of your nipples, lathing over the hard bud and making you jolt.

“Y/N-ah’s nipples are so cute,” he said, suddenly shifting back to his regular speaking tone, making you laugh at his random sweet commentary. But you weren’t distracted for long before he was sucking on your other nipple, still pinning you down by the wrists to ensure you wouldn’t to put a stop to his teasing.

“Ah, Jeonghan...” you panted his name, and he turned to look at you again. He was so beautiful. You couldn’t believe that this beautiful man was ravishing you like this...

“Nuna, I can’t be patient anymore,” he said in your ear, and you felt his hard length slide against you... You simply answered his implied question by reaching your neck forward to kiss him again, softly this time.

“Please let me come this time, sir,” you whispered, smiling at him. Jeonghan returned your sly smile, adjusting his body ever so slightly before effortlessly gliding his hard cock into you.

You let out a high-pitched sigh at the luxurious stretch his cock gave you, his thick length seeming to barely fit between your walls. It had been a while since you’d done this, really—you were just thankful that he’d gotten you so wet already. It didn’t hurt at all, but you felt a delicious tension at the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, Y/N,” he breathed in your ear, his hands pressing down firmly on your wrists as his head dropped to your shoulder. You were so tight; he was sure if he moved at all he’d come right away—and he didn’t want to do that just yet. It wasn’t nearly enough time inside of you. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t masturbated a few times while imagining this exact moment, but of course the real thing was beyond compare...

You started to lose it, the way that Jeonghan wasn’t moving—just kissing you languidly, letting go of your wrists in favor of holding you by the waist.

“Jeonghan—” you whimpered his name, unable to even form a full sentence you wanted him to start fucking you so badly. Jeonghan glanced down at you, giving you one more kiss before he started to thrust his hips into you.

His cock slid in and out of you so easily, the delicious rhythm of stretching you and then releasing the tension and then stretching you again making you moan, and even you weren’t sure if you could keep the volume down.

Jeonghan watched your beautiful face twist into an expression he’d never seen from you—completely ecstatic. He loved that you smiled while he was inside you, feeling your whole body respond to his made him feel in danger of losing control.

He picked up the pace, holding you in place with one hand on your waist and the other hooked underneath your knee, pulling it up higher to get an even deeper angle into you. You felt his cock hit your most sensitive spot repeatedly, covering your mouth again to keep yourself from screaming in pleasure.

“Uh-uh,” Jeonghan quickly pulled your hand away from your mouth, “you don’t get to cover your mouth, Y/N.” You pressed your lips firmly together, practically biting your tongue now. Jeonghan had sat up on his knees, holding you by the hips as he slammed his cock into you repeatedly, his pace getting brutal now.

“Jeonghan!” you couldn’t help letting out a yelp of his name as your orgasm finally hit you in full force, making your legs tremble against Jeonghan, your arousal dripping down his cock—still beating into you steadily. Your face was flushed and there were tiny tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, which was all Jeonghan needed to be sent over the edge, as well. He felt the coil inside him snap and quickly removed himself from you, coming instead all over your bare stomach and tits.

You felt the hot sensation of his come on you, both of you breathing heavily... You looked up at him to see him already looking at you, panting, completely fucked out. He drew his breath in sharply, and you both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

You covered your face in embarrassment, suddenly internalizing what just happened, your exhaustion mixed with the joy of having finally done it with Jeonghan making you delirious.

“Stay there, nuna,” Jeonghan said sweetly before scampering off to the bathroom, returning with a towel and carefully cleaning you up. He was back to making cute and silly noises as he touched you, any trace of the man who just fucked you had gone now, replaced with your usual adorable Jeonghan. He finished cleaning you and himself up, and jumped right into bed, curling up next to you like a baby.

You couldn’t stop giggling; you were so excited and nervous—you were sure that at least someone on this floor heard the two of you... these old fashioned hotels didn’t exactly have sound-proof walls. But even you were fine with leaving that to be tomorrow’s problem.

Jeonghan watched you, overjoyed that you seemed so giddy.

“Ah, nuna’s smile is the best,” he said, nuzzling your nose with his.

“Hannie’s smile is the best,” you said, melting his heart with the nickname.

Jeonghan’s arms wrapped around you and you cuddled your face into his silky hair,  unable to stop smiling even after you drifted off to sleep.

[planchettewrites]

I'm Just Half Alive (In my Struggle to Survive Without You) - NSFW

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)/ AFAB!Reader

DESCRIPTION: It's your first night as Mrs. Remy Etienne LeBeau, and your new husband cannot wait to show you how much he adores you.

CONTENT: SMUT, Protected Sex (Always Wrap it Before you Tap It), Praise Kink (?), M!Overstimulation, AFAB Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used, French Used

A/N: This was a labor of love! I wrote this over two days, and I've only been in the X-Men fandom for three days. I immediately fell in love with Gambit and then found out there were so few fanfics of him. I decided to change that. My two song inspirations were "My Way of Life" by Frank Sinatra and "Life Eternal" by Ghost. Enjoy bbys! If you like this fic, reblogs are very much appreciated, as are likes and comments.

3.3K words | Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You smile as you look in the mirror. Today was arguably the best day of your life—you just became Mrs. Remy Etienne LeBeau, and nothing made you happier. 

Your wedding was exquisite. It occurred in one of the most beautiful venues in the French Quarter of New Orleans; the hall was rather large and historical. The hall was decorated with your favorite flowers—those your now husband had given you on your first date. The chandeliers in the building were all lit with candles that perfectly illuminated and complimented the ceremony. Your dress was similarly exquisite, and your closest friends were helping you pick it out. It was exactly what you wanted, and it fit absolutely perfectly—all with the help from the tailor’s shop, but that was beside the point. 

A majority of you and Remy’s coworkers and friends were there, even a sparse few from his days in the Thieves Guild. You were thrilled: everyone who loved you and Remy supported you on your big day. 

The ceremony was gorgeous. Filled with tears from both the guests and the wedding party, you two exchanged your vows. You spent about five minutes saying your vows to one another, making the other sob in the process. You did your best to speak some Cajun French in your speech, making Remy cry harder. Your husband wasn’t one to let his bravado falter, but seeing him in happy tears made you melt. You looked at your guest when he began to cry, and some of the toughest X-Men you knew were similarly in tears. In your vows, you both promised to share the rest of your beautiful, chaotic lives with each other, and come what may, your love will never falter. You two were bonded in holy matrimony; nothing could change that. 

Your first kiss as husband and wife was something you’d never forget. You both had practiced that dip for the past three months and had pulled it off perfectly. Of course, your husband, being your husband, kissed you harder and longer than you anticipated, which made your head spin and your heart soar. Walking back down the aisle, nearly dancing the whole way down, had suddenly made all the stress of planning the wedding worth it. 

The reception was a mere two hours ago, and it was a whirlwind of laughter, happiness, dance, and minor chaos. Your first dance was to “My Way of Life” by Frank Sinatra, and if the two of you weren’t looking lovingly at each other while dancing, one or the other was murmuring the words under their breath. That song perfectly encapsulated how you two felt about each other: you were each other’s way of life. Each day, you awoke to live, eat, and breathe each other. In some ways, you felt you were made for each other. As you were dancing, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. 

After your first dance and the further rupture of applause and tears, Remy and you began to socialize with family and friends. Ever the charmer your husband was, recounting the stories to your family and friends of how we knew you were the one the moment your eyes locked. Some of the telepathics in your reception had told you not a single lie was spoken by your husband; he meant every single word he said. 

Now, there you were, looking into the mirror of the hotel you two stayed at. The two of you spared no expense regarding your honeymoon, and you both wanted to make sure it was as memorable as possible. 

The black velour robe you wore kept you comfortable as you took all the pins and accessories from your hair. The kind ladies doing your hair certainly knew what they were doing, but they sure had put a lot of bobby pins in your hair. As you recounted the night in your head as the final pin came out, a satisfied sigh escaped your lips. 

As if right on cue, your husband walked into the room, two champagne glasses in hand. “Joie de vivre,” he said to himself. You turned around to face him, a large smile growing on your face. Remy looked divine, with a white suit that fit him perfectly, your favorite flower on his lapel, and his hair tied back. You always thought your husband looked wonderful but particularly good in a three-piece suit. “Ma chérie, you look as beautiful as always.”

“Thank you, my dear.” you smiled as he handed you the glass of champagne. As you sipped, you watched your husband remove his jacket and put it in the closet, placing the flower on the bed’s side table. His movements were smooth like his words, and you heard him sing one of the songs from the reception under his breath. “How’s it going, sweetheart?” you ask him. 

Remy responded in his native tongue: “C’est tout un sucre, chérie. Happier than I’ve ever been.” He waltzes over to you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I love you, Remy.” you place your hand on his cheek, stroking it gently. 

“I love you too, darlin’.” he smiles. 

This was happiness—absolute happiness. Nothing felt more right than this; this was perfection. Here you were with the love of your life, and he was with his. 

“Now, chérie, you look absolutely stunning,” his charming timbre weakens your knees. His hands fell to your shoulders and ran up and down your arms. “And I think I need some alone time with my wife.” 

You show him a coy smile. “Your wife? Hmm…I think I can make that happen.”

As you sit up from your chair, Remy guides you to the large bed against the wall’s middle. The bed was easily a California King with beautiful black sheets and a duvet cover. Remy guided you to lie down, and you looked at him with a dorky look. Remy was gorgeous, with his red and black eyes, chestnut hair, and body built like Adonis himself. 

“What you smilin’ at, ma chérie?” he laughed, his hands finding your waist.

“You!” you gush. “You’re just so handsome, and kind, and brave, and…and really fucking sexy.”

He laughs again and begins to fiddle with the tie of your robe. “You think Gambit is sexy? Well, you’re a sight, too, doll.”After a look of silently asking to undress you, you nodded. As he undid your robe, he smiled when he saw what was underneath—a breathtaking lingerie set. The set was a bit more expensive than you were willing to spend, but you knew that some sacrifices needed to be made for your wedding. “You’re tryin’ to kill Gambit aintcha?”

“Maybe.” you laughed, propping yourself up to fully strip yourself of the robe. You watched as your husband began to unbutton his dress shirt, slowly and precisely, and never breaking eye contact. You knew your husband too well at this point—he was teasing you. He attempted to test your patience, and simultaneously, he gave you a show. You could feel your cheeks flush. Something about your husband made him impossible to resist—whether it was that Louisiana charm or his general personality, something about him beckoned you like a siren song. 

As the dress shirt hit the ground, Remy reached for your hands, helping you stand. He spun you around gently, getting a good look at your body in that clearly expensive white set. He wolf-whistled, which made you giggle. “Damn, chérie, you’re gonna be lucky if I don’t rip that off of ya.”

As you finally faced him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed your husband. These types of kisses felt like fireworks—maybe it was the slight kinetic energy that always radiated from Remy, or perhaps it was just the product of your love. If you had to guess, it was probably a mix of both. 

His hands fell to your waist, and he swiftly picked you up and placed you back on the bed. His lips traveled from yours to your neck, kissing at the crook of your neck to that sensitive spot he learned early on. Letting out a quiet moan, you could feel his smirk on your neck as he continued pressing kisses there. His hands explored your body freely, from massaging your perfect breasts to gently squeezing your thighs. The journey of his hands ended at the hem of your panties, a silent plea to let him take them off of you. Your response to that silent plea was another nod, and suddenly, your husband was off your neck and on his knees. 

Your husband did the hard work of spreading your legs for you, giving him a perfect view of your pussy. He licked his lips and smiled. “Bon appétit.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your knee before working down your thigh. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he began to lap at your cunt with the vigor of a man starved. You let out a loud and staggered breath as your husband pulled his tongue from your entrance to your folds. He continued this movement until your breaths became ragged enough to where he decided it would be a good time to suck at your clit. 

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” He paused for a second to say–almost as if he were saying it to himself and dived back into your core. You let out a deafening whine as he lapped at your clit, then sucked it particularly hard. 

He noticed your hips begin to buck at no discernible rhythm, and if there was one thing your husband was during sex, it was a talker. His thumb replaced his tongue, rubbing your clit in tight circles. “You like that, ma charmante?” your hips bucked against his fingers, and you let out a loud moan. “That’s it. Show me what you got, chérie. Work yourself on my fingers.”

“Shit!” you moaned. Your movements were becoming jerky—you were close. Remy immediately went back to lapping at your cunt, his finger making its way into your walls. Within seconds, you let out a moan you were sure the other patrons of the hotel could hear. 

You were practically dry-heaving, and within seconds of removing himself from your thighs, you pressed a heavy kiss to Remy’s lips. Your hands cupped his face, and one of his hands went to the small of your back. 

“God, Remy…” you heaved. Part of you couldn’t even form a sentence. You felt euphoric. Remy was always good with his tongue, both in his words and in his skills. 

“Yes, chérie?” Remy smiled. He was thoroughly enjoying this. You learned over the years that his pleasure came from your pleasure. You saw that in the way he’d do anything to make you laugh, you saw that in the way that he would cook for you, and you saw that in the way that sexually, your pleasure came first. 

“Remy, I need you.”

“Then take what is yours, darlin’.” 

You stood up carefully—your legs feeling like jelly—and pressed hard kisses to his lips. Dropping to your knees, you began to expertly unbuckle the oversized belt buckle of your husband’s belt. You place one hand on your husband’s large thigh as if to keep yourself steady. You could feel your mouth water at the thought of sucking his cock. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. You begin to toy with his erection, palming him over his dress pants. As you finish unbuckling this belt, Remy slides his pants and underwear down to his ankles, swiftly kicking them off. 

You begin to move your hand up and down his shaft, hearing him let out a groan. A few strokes later and you lower your mouth onto his cock. You use your tongue to lick around the tip of his cock, and you lower yourself and take more of him into your mouth. He lets out a moan as you bob your head up and down on his shaft, taking as much of him as you could. You hollowed your mouth to create a light suction, which made your husband see stars. 

Remy finds his hands in your hair, letting you set your own pace. As you continued to worship his cock with your tongue, he began to blab. “Tu te sens si bien, chérie. So fucking good. Keep going…just like that. Fuck, keep going.”

As you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock one more time, he ruffles your hair. “Ma charmante et talentueuse femme, I need to fuck you.” he groaned. 

With a pop, you remove yourself from his cock with a devious smile on your face. “I’m all yours, Remy.” 

He guides you to the bed again and smacks your ass playfully. You turn to swat at him, and he laughs gently. You almost want to cry; you’re so happy. You are married to the love of your life; it’s your wedding night, and you are spending it with the man you love more than anything. Now, you were having your first night as husband and wife—you couldn’t be happier. As you find the headboard, you lean back and bend your knees, spreading your legs. You were on full display for your husband; by the looks of it, he certainly wasn’t complaining. 

“Hold on, ma chérie, one moment.” Remy started to search through the side table drawer, where he found what he was looking for: the box of condoms. You watched as he rolled the condom onto his cock, and you smiled to yourself. Remy had always been one for condoms; even times when you just wanted him to fuck you raw, he would kiss your hand and promise to always take care of you first. 

Crawling onto the bed, your husband towered over you, moving to hover above you. You looked up at him, your eyes full of need and lust. He pressed another kiss to your lips as he guided the head of his cock to your entrance. He moves his hips forward, and inch by inch, you begin to take him. You both moan at the feeling of euphoria. 

Remy continues to push his hips forward, beginning to rock in and out of you. He moves his hips slowly and deeply, as he prefers, to feel all of you as you take him. For the first time since your first dance, you feel your eyes well with tears. Remy is quick to catch onto this and stops his movements entirely. “Oh babydoll, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m just,” you start, “so happy to be yours, Remy.”

“Oh, these are happy tears!” he coos and places his hand on your cheek and the other on the headboard. He continues his ministrations in your cunt, feeling how you take him so, so well. You feel so full, and despite being with Remy for this long, you don’t think you’d ever get accustomed to this feeling. His cock is nestled between your walls, and each thrust urges you closer to an orgasm. 

Heat coils in your lower stomach as Remy thrusts into you, and for not the last time that evening, he talks you through the feeling. “Oh, ma femme, ma magnifique femme, you take me so well. And I love you, I love you so fucking much.”

“I’ve only been yours, love, and I’ll be yours for the rest of time.” you moan, repeating his sentiments out loud. 

“Damn straight. It sounds good coming from your lips. Gambit was gonna make you his, even when he first met you.” he groaned, the smirk on his face returning. “And I’ll be yours for the rest of time.”

You wrap your legs around your husband’s waist, letting him hit that spongy spot inside of you. His thrusts are starting to become faster, and with each thrust, he bucks his hips to ensure he is fully sheathed inside you. You’re close, so, so incredibly close. 

You yelp, “Fuck, Remy, I’m close, I’m really, really close.”

“Me too, darlin’.” he groans. His hand falls to your waist, and he begins to thrust far more erratically. He fucks you into him, slamming into you, causing you to moan his name. Loud. 

You’re nearly dry-heaving again as he fucks you. That heat in your stomach that had turned into a coil had started to unwind. You were coming close to another orgasm. 

“Fuck—I’m coming, shit!” Remy groans. Although, his pace doesn’t relent as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

Your legs tighten around him as that coil becomes completely undone. “Remy, shit, God, I love you. I love you so fuckingmuch. I am so fucking happy to be your wife! I can’t wait to make you a family!” you pant, your finish further slicking the space between you. 

“I love you so much. More than you know…and, and, I’ll love you forever, chérie!” His voice was shaky and erratic as he overstimulated himself to rock you through your orgasm. 

As you both begin to still, your breath erratic, you grab hold of him and just let his weight crash onto you. He buries his face in your shoulder, and you hear him let out a sigh. He mutters something to himself in his native tongue and presses a light kiss to your neck. You can hear him mutter one thing as he pushes himself upwards: “I love you.”

He nearly projects himself to your side, grabbing your hand and gently kissing your palm. “You’re my world. You truly are.” 

“I mean every word I said,” you murmured, so breathless you could barely speak, “I am really so happy to be your wife.”

“And I’m happy to be your husband.” he smiled, turning to face you. You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and smiled. You were happy, and now you get to look forward to an eternity with the man you loved. Come what may, no matter how big or small, you would have Remy by your side. And that was going to be your way of life. 

[monzabee]

you'll change your name or change your mind - cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bianchi!reader 

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: mentions of jules and his accident, ANGST, talks about college acceptances in the US but it’s not accurate because i’ve never applied for US schools, mentions of alcohol and underage drinking/clubbing (only in the US though), mentions of a fake id, mentions of cheating, fighting, charles being stupid and not realising it, talks about processing grief, GRIEF, survivor’s guilt, talks of therapy, friends to lovers y’all. 

Request: “The Charles fanfic was so good!! Can you write more angsty but happy needing Charles? I think it’s be cute for a man who loves Monaco so much to got to wherever his girlfriend lives Ike London or nyc often and deal with that. Maybe she hates monaco lol” + “if your requests are still open, max or charles + “you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” thanks!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i decided to give into the whole angst thing and i can honestly say that i’m having a great time. i wanted to include Jules somehow in this one because i’ve been seeing some edits on tiktok and let me tell you proofreading was a bitch because i kept crying. also, my spotify kept bringing up lorde and hannah montana songs, so there you go. this was definitely a hard one to write and i know it’s messy, but all feedback is appreciated. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Monaco is full of memories. It’s filled with memories of your childhood, your parents picking up you and your siblings from school in Nice, and getting the train to Monaco for your brother to compete in karting races. It’s filled with laughter, and ice cream, and friends. It’s also filled with fears, loss and uncertainty, and you suppose that’s why you didn’t ever want to go back. But you find your back there every time, even if it is only for a couple of days at a time. Although it reminds you of the bad times, it’s hard to erase the good ones completely. 

Charles is just one of the people Jules brought into your life. He was right there since your birth – apparently, the Leclercs were visiting your family in Nice when your mother suddenly went into labour. You will always be thankful to Pascale and Hervé for stopping Jules from choosing your middle name to be Michael Schumacher. Neither Charles, nor you will forget the type of shenanigans you got up to as little kids, there is only a year difference between the two of you after all. There’s that one time you stole Charles’ kart and tried to go down the road, in which he caught you but instead of ratting you out to Lorenzo and Jules, who were supposed to be looking after you by the way, he helped you get it down the stairs and passed you his helmet as he explained how to go about it. Neither of your brothers were impressed by your ability to go fast or Charles’ sudden interest in maybe becoming a race engineer if the whole driver thing doesn’t work out. There was also the time when the two of you, along with Arthur, snuck out from a family friend’s wedding to only get lost in a city in the South of France; Charles got so stressed that he forgot how to speak French and proceeded to ask how to get back to the venue in Italian for the rest of the night. Needless to say, the two of you are there for each other no matter what; you stayed together through heartbreaks, wins, losses, losing Jules and Hervé, funerals, weddings and much more. The majority of your time together is spent in your family’s house in Nice. Charles doesn’t mind the half-hour journey, an hour if he decides to go back but he hardly ever does. Sometimes, he manages to convince you come to Monte Carlo for the day by bribing you with promises of sunsets and ice cream, but he will always drive you back if you insist you want to go home without any complain. 

The first time you bring up the topic of moving, you’re in your last year of high school; by that time, Charles is already racing in Formula One, so your time together is limited to breaks between the races. However he tries his hardest to be there for you, from talking you through breakdowns that occur after long study sessions, to looking up pre-med programmes for you to apply all over the world. You never wanted to live your entire life between Nice and Monte Carlo in the first place, so is he is more than happy to help you explore your options. Your application results arrive when he’s on break between the races, so the two of you sit on the small table in his Monaco apartment’s kitchen, the light from your laptop lighting up both of your faces as you open up the emails one by one. You’re most anxious about your application to Columbia, which is 3.462 miles away from Nice, and 3.993 from Monte Carlo. By the time you finish opening up all the emails, both of you are sitting there with a silence between you. The acceptance letter still open on your laptop is congratulating you for your offer to join Columbia’s pre-med program the following September. 

“Yes,” He looks at you expectantly, “Accept it, Y/N, you shouldn’t be even thinking about it!”

“Yes?” You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that simple, Charles–” 

“But it is!” He argues, a big smile on his face. You can tell he is proud of you by the look in his eyes and the way his emotions carry through his voice. “It’s your top choice of school!”

“It’s also in New York, it means that there will be an entire ocean between us!” 

He shrugs. “So?” 

“So?” Your eyes widen in surprise, you start staking your head a little without being aware that you are doing it. “Doesn’t that scare you?” 

“Chérie,” Charles coos, pulling your chair by its leg to bring you closer to him and wrap a supportive arm around your body. His chest rumbles from his low laughter as he presses kisses to your hair. “We’ll be fine, look at everything we’ve been through, and we’re not even that old.” 

You scoff, hitting his chest in an attempt to get away; you start furiously typing on your computer. “You are old,” you point to him with a tilt of your head, “I’m not, though.” 

He rolls his eyes and turns his concentration to the tab still open on your computer, “You’re going to accept the offer, though, right?” 

You end up accepting the offer. Charles and his family is there alongside yours to send you off on a plane to New York City. Both your mother and Charles’ have tears in their eyes as they say their goodbyes, with your father giving you a similar look. Being the youngest of four siblings, it must’ve been hard to send their youngest all the way across an ocean, but they let you know that you have their support in every step of the way. With Charles’ schedule for the remaining races scattered all over the world, he tells you not to force yourself and to enjoy your first months as a college student. 

You surprise him in Austin, though. Arranging this surprise is definitely not the easiest, but you ask Lorenzo for his help and he is more than happy to make arrangements for you. It’s the end of Friday’s last practice session when you surprise him in the Alfa Romeo garage. He almost walks past you, to get rid of his helmet when you say his name, but once he realises it is you he quickly pulls in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks you while laughing with glee. 

“Heard there’s an immunology seminar in town about the effects of talking a shower and then going out without drying your hair.” You answer with all the seriousness you can muster. 

“Really?” He asks in confusion, taking his helmet and balaclava off and trying to fix his sweat-soaked hair. 

You hit the back of his head lightly, shaking your head in disbelief. “No! I came here to see you race, you idiot!” 

He shakes head in understanding. “Oh, oh!” His eyes widen once again with recognition this time. 

“Yes, oh, now come on, we’re going out.” You’re quick to add, “To dinner because airplane food sucks. We’re going out clubbing after the race, though.” 

True to your word, you go clubbing after his race on Sunday, which Charles is not entertained by. He’s paranoid by the fact that you are in the club with them in the first place, which should not be happening because you’re underage. He keeps silent as you show the bouncer your id, which he knows is a fake, by the way; as he sends Lorenzo an incredulous look, his older brother’s reaction consisting off a shrug of the shoulders makes him more paranoid. 

“Y/N, you should not be drinking.” He voices his concern, as you’re on your second drink of the night. “This is wrong.” 

“How is this different than me drinking back at home?” You argue with your eyebrows raised. “You don’t tell me I can’t drink when we’re back home.” 

“Because it is legal for you to do so there!” Charles exclaims, somehow gathering the attention of some of the clubbers nearby, but he offers them an apological smile and then turns back to you with his voice lowered. “You’re not twenty one, ergo – you shouldn’t be drinking.” 

“Pfft,” You shrug him off, “You’re stupid, and I’m bored. You want to dance?” 

You help Charles to move into his flat in Italy when he starts racing for Ferrari. Though he still lives in Monaco full-time, he rented a small place in Maranello to stay when he’s travelling. It’s an emotional event, which has both of you sitting on the floor of his new apartment going through boxes of old photographs. He finds one of his brothers and Jules with you, standing in front of a karting ring with big smiles in all of your faces. You fingers involuntarily trace over your brother, your eyes misting when you think about the day. 

“He was so young,” You whisper, having to swallow a sob which threatens to escape. 

Your eyes linger on the photograph for a while, and Charles quickly understands that you were not talking about the photograph as the tears you were trying to hold back find their way onto your cheeks. “He was.” He agrees; there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what losing a family member does to a person, and he understands you in a way most people cannot. 

You offer him a sad smile through your tears. “He would be so proud of you.” 

“He would be also so proud of you,” He whispers right back, leaning closer to you so that he could wipe away the few stray tears. “In fact, I am pretty sure he is.” 

“Stop it.” You laugh softly through your tears as you push yourself to get off the floor, and dry under your eyes with your fingers as you look across the room. “Oh my god, Charles, we have so many boxes to go through.” 

He gets up after you and looks around the dusty living room as he attempts to get rid of the dust on his clothes. “We do, don’t we?” He watches as you kneel in front of an unopened box and slice through the tape with a knife, and starting to go through the items in the box. He watches you go through the items silently for a while, noticing how seriously you take the task. His eyes linger on the frown on your face for a while, the way your eyebrows scrunch in question, or how you tuck a stubborn piece of hair, which escapes from the braid in your hair, to the back of your ear. He stalks closer, gently gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.” He asks – which comes off less as an ask and more of a demand, which causes you to playfully roll your eyes at him. 

“Charles, the boxes–” You try to argue. 

His laugh is laced with mischief. “The boxes will still be there, chérie, just one dance won’t change anything.” 

You try to come with arguments in your head but all your attempts are quickly thrown out the window when you realise just how green Charles’ eyes actually are. “We don’t have any music.” You try to offer as a measly argument. 

Charles raises his eyebrows as he wraps his arms around your waist after making you wrap yours around his neck. “We don’t need any music, Y/N.” 

So you give up in any attempts in stopping him, as he starts to slowly sway both of your bodies from side to side. You let out a chuckle when he stars, terribly, humming to an old song you used to hear on the radio. “This is stupid.” You mumble as you keep up your pace with his movements. 

“You seem to keep calling me that.” Charles recalls, making both of you laugh in recognition. “I need to tell you something important.” 

“So tell me,” you encourage him, motioning him to continue. 

“I met someone.” He announces, a small smile playing on his lips. 

You breath get stuck for a moment, in which you remind yourself that Charles is waiting for your reaction – most likely a supportive one at that. “Wow, Charles.” You breath out and give him a smile, which you successfully manage to pass off as a supportive one, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice breaks off in the end. “I’m so happy for you.”

You’re not stupid – thinking that either of you could stay single forever is an unrealistic one. But it hurts to imagine him with another person while he looks at you like that makes a part of you crumble up into a ball on your bed and cry. And that’s just what you do when you go back to the hotel that night (because the house is still unliveable when the two of you decide you’re done for the day). You try to keep your sobs as quiet as possible because you know Charles is in the hotel room next to yours. As you’re looking out the window, watching the night sky light up with stars in Maranello that night, you tell yourself you, somehow, need to move on from your best friend. 

The next time you see Charles is during Christmas time. You have a tradition – Lorenzo, Charles, Jules and you, a tradition, which Arthur joined once he was old enough. It’s a peculiar one. While it’s not uncommon for most families to watch Christmas movies during this time of the year, your choice of movie has not Christmas elements in it at all. Every Christmas, the four of you watch The Sound of Music. It’s a silly tradition which was born out of boredom and lack of movies one Christmas, but it’s a tradition you managed carried out every year. 

You can still remember Lorenzo complaining because “It’s three hours of songs about whiskers and bass clef.” 

While Jules gives his best friend an unamused glare, both you and Charles try to mimic the Frenchman who you idolise. “It has nuns, songs, Nazis and familial love, Lorenzo, what more could you ask for?” He shrugs as he turns his attention back on screen, “Plus, Julie Andrews is hot.” 

“Why would she be hot?” You remember asking, the woman on the screen not seeming uncomfortable by the weather. 

“No reason,” Jules assures you, wrapping one of his arms around you.“Watch the movie, shortcake.” 

And yes, while it might be stupid to watch the same movie, which has no Christmas value at all, every year on Christmas day, it’s a reminder that you have each other even if you’re not always together. So when you sit down to watch the movie that Christmas, there is a bad feeling in your stomach when you realise Charles is not there to watch it with you. If his brothers also find it weird that he’s not there they don’t make a comment, neither do you, for that matter. You try to push it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment, telling yourself that even if this is a tradition between the four of you, it’s not the end of the world if you fail to do it. So you smile, and have fun throughout the day – when you’re watching the movie, or when you decide to hold a gingerbread house competition (Arthur wins, by the way), or when you sit down to have dinner with your families, and it makes you feel a thousand times better. 

It’s late when he comes home that night, Lorenzo and Arthur have already passed out on the couch with you trying to read the anatomy textbook on your lap in the low light. 

“Hi.” He greets you as he gives you a tight-lipped smile. 

“Hi.” You whisper back, trying not to wake up the boy sleeping next to you. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yeah, it was a good day.” He answers truthfully, and then motions the book resting on your knees. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here tonight.” 

He doesn’t argue as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Okay, good night, chérie.”

One thing about Charles, is that he is very secretive about his relationships – to the point where he won’t introduce someone to you or his family if he doesn’t think the relationship is going somewhere. So, when he brings over Charlotte for lunch the next day, there is a buzz around the house. The lunch goes well, you think. Charlotte is sweet, and the two of you talk about many things including your universities; she’s very impressed that you want to go into the medical field and you tell her that architecture must be a pain in the ass to study and she agrees with a loud laugh. 

When Pascale asks them what they did for Christmas yesterday, Charlotte leans against Charles’ arm as she answers, “Oh, nothing. We just stayed home and watched that old movie – what was it again?” 

“The Sound of Music.” Charles answers, his eyes are focused on his hands, and you know this, because your eyes don’t heave his frame until Arthur forces you to carry the dishes into the kitchen. 

“We’ll do them, maman,” he announces when Pascale attempts to tidy up the dishes, “Y/N will help me, won’t you?” 

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, the voice coming off from you not matching the sunny disposition you present to the rest of the room. 

You carry the dishes Arthur passes to you to the kitchen, holding your breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you succeed, too. At least until Arthur comes after you, carrying more dishes and places them next to the other ones near the kitchen sink. You start scrubbing them with intensity, your sniffles and the sound from water whooshing around in the sink filling the room. Arthur pulls you against him as you lean your forehead to his shoulder, or where you can on his arm due to your height-difference, as you start quietly sobbing. Arthur turns the tap on as he lets you cry into his shoulder. 

The two of you return to the dining room after the dishes are done, and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. After Charlotte announces that she should be on her way, you walk her to the door with everyone, the two of you exchanging numbers as she makes you promise to go shopping with her the next time you’re in Monaco. You agree with a chuckle and tell her only if she teaches you how to draw because your “Anatomy notes are seriously suffering.” After she gives Charles a kiss and leaves, Charles turns to you. 

“It’s just a movie.” He says in a low voice. 

“You’re allowed to have fun with your girlfriend, Charles.” You assure him and pat his shoulder for good measure. Then, you turn to Arthur, who is watching the exchange with a confused look on his face. “Want to play a round before I leave?” 

“Sure,” he agrees and the two of you move into the living room to play a round of F1 on the PlayStation. He sets it up for you as you try to get comfortable on the couch, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease as Charles watches you from the other side of the couch. “Who do you want to pick?” Arthur asks you, the cursor hovering over his choice – who is of course his brother. 

You stay quiet for a moment and answer him in a calm voice, “Give me Max.” 

Charles scoffs from the other side and pushes himself off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Rich, Y/N, just rich.” 

“What?” you ask him with faux innocence and a shrug of your shoulders. 

His voice is accusatory when he snaps, “Stop being childish for a moment.”  

“Oh, I’m being childish?” You ask him, getting off the couch as well. 

“Yes, you’re being extremely childish right now.” He agrees, nodding his head. “Glad we at least agree on that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask again while narrowing your eyes. 

He scoffs, “It’s just a stupid movie.” 

“I didn’t say a fucking word about the movie, Charles.” You point out, mimicking his pose as you cross your arms over your chest. In reality, it’s a short attempt at trying to hide your shaking hands. “But it’s not a stupid movie, it’s tradition.” 

“Traditions can be broken from time to time.” He argues.

“I didn’t say they couldn’t.” You shrug, trying to appear indifferent to the man in front of you. 

“Maybe if you tried to stick around for more than three days at a time, you wouldn’t be so upset about these type of things.” 

Your mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Charles, maybe you should–” Arthur tries to stop his brother, but Charles waves him off. 

“Sometimes I think ‘Did I do something?’, but then I realise that maybe the problem is not me–”

Though you’re shocked by his words, you find yourself assuring him, “It’s not, it has nothing to do with you.” 

Both you and Arthur can see something snaps in him, causing him to raise his voice. “Then what is it? Tell me so I can fix it and you can stop running away!” 

You shake your head, your arms which are wrapped around you becoming tighter as an attempt to provide yourself some sort of protection. “You can’t fix it, Charles.” 

His arms become undone as his fists ball on either side of his body. “You don’t know that–”

“No you can’t!” You scream, somehow more tears flowing from your eyes. “You can’t bring Jules back because he’s dead, and you can’t fix me because I’m not a toy! You think I want to live this way? You think I want to go back every damn time I set foot in this city because I just hate it here? I can’t bear the thought of staying here because of the fact that my brother died while I was here and I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.” You point a finger towards him, your voice gradually becoming louder to match his. “He was dead by the time I got back to the hospital and they told me he couldn’t hold on any longer, how do you think that makes me feel every time I feel like I’ve overstayed in this city, huh?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Y/N.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see you’re letting the past hold you back?” 

“‘Letting the past hold me back’ do you even hear yourself right now? I am trying my best to move on!” 

“By moving across the ocean?” He asks you, “By leaving the people you love you behind?” 

“You– you can do this!” You scream as you walk towards him and jab your finger against his chest. “You told me to take the offer, you told me to move away because you were so sure we’d be fine.” 

“Well maybe I was wrong.” He whispers, grabbing both of your wrists to stop you from poking him and curling his arms closer to his chest. 

Your eyes widen with a furious look in them, which makes him realise he sees more of Jules in them than before. “Screw you, Charles.” You struggle against his hold, hitting his chest with your fists with every word as you scream, “Screw you for trying to dictate how I process my grief, and screw you for acting so indifferent.” You win your struggle in the end, taking advantage of the fact that he is both distracted and speechless to get out of his hold and quickly grab your things. 

“Where are you going?” He asks you as you’re putting your coat on. 

“Anywhere but here.” You snap at him, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Arthur quickly comes near you with a concerned look, “You shouldn’t be driving right now, at least let me drive you.” 

You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, “I’ll be fine, ThurThur,” your eyes find Charles’ as you continue, “Don’t ever change, okay?”

After the disastrous Christmas last year, you two didn’t talk for a whole year, even though the people around you tried their hardest to bring you to talk to each other. Even Charlotte tried to trick you into spending time, claiming that she had a work emergency just as you arrived at the lunch you two scheduled to find Charles sitting there – you quickly left without being seen and spent the day walking through the marina because “Fuck Charles if he thinks you can’t spend more than three days in Monte Carlo.” He spends Christmas with Charlotte again, but unlike this year, you don’t feel sad about his absence, choosing to call it growth when reality it’s actually packing it away to deal with it another time. 

The two of you eventually do make up, though, when you go to one of Arthur’s races to support him and run into Charles on the track. You talk between breaks, both of you succumbing and apologising to each other for the things you’ve said – him more than you, but you still apologise for the way you’ve acted afterwards. Arthur has a strange smile on his face when he finds you, releasing a relieved breath when you told him that you’re fine and you’re going to take baby steps. 

“Good,” he smiles, “maman was about to lock you onto Charles’ yacht.” 

Your therapist calls is ‘survivor’s guilt’. Yes, you have one of those now because although you want it to be false, you think a part of what Charles said might be right. She explains to you that it’s a natural response where someone has suffered a loss and you didn’t. This confuses you, though, because even if the loss in question is the death of your brother, you weren’t there to experience it with the rest of your family. Dr. Gambini is there to explain that “Although it implies experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t not feel the loss of something you didn’t get to suffer.” So, you go through the therapy experience to try to understand your own feelings, which makes you think maybe it is what you should be focusing on in the first place. It’s an overwhelming feeling, understanding things about yourself which you didn’t before – the things you used to feel slowly gain meaning as you go about it. You’re proud of yourself when you talk about it to your parents, and they tell you that they are proud of you for giving it a go. Charles joins you in one of your sessions – it’s Charlotte’s idea, actually. He tries to understand why, and how he can help you – he leaves the session feeling proud of you for taking care of yourself. 

A few months later, you get a phone call from him when you’re in the middle of the week when you are studying,  while all of your friends are away for spring break. His voice is thick with tears as he tells you that it’s over between him and Charlotte, but refuses to give you a reason when you ask why. It leaves you confused in New York, but when he asks you if you can come home for the weekend, you don’t hesitate to book a ticket for the next flight out. He’s shocked to find you standing in front of his door, but pulls you in for a hug anyway. Neither of you care about the duffel bag that hits the floor at your feet, even when you’re stumbling over it to get to him. You don’t talk, but hold each other throughout the night. He offers to cook for you, but you decide that ordering pizza is a better solution than trying to each what Charles attempts to cook. So, you end up deciding on pizza and a movie. 

You look at him confused when you realise which movie he’s selected, “It’s not Christmas, Charles.” 

He sits down on the couch, and pulls you under his arm as he reaches for the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. There’s a nostalgic smile on his face which you cannot understand. “I owe you two screenings of this movie, Y/N. Now eat your pizza and watch it.” 

So, the two of you watch the movie in silence – with silently laughing in relevant scenes and Charles even attempting to sing the Lonely Goatherd, which leaves you in tears because of how much you’re laughing. At the end of the night he walks you to the guest room in his apartment and pulls you for one last hug, whispering, “Thank you for coming,” into your hair. 

“Of course, Charles.” You whisper, turning your head and softly pressing a kiss to his shirt-covered chest. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning. 

He’s in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning, focusing so intently on something on his phone to notice you. You ruffle his hair as you make your way through the kitchen to make some breakfast for the two of you. “Good morning to you too, you grump.” You tell him, when you finish getting out the ingredients for the breakfast you have in mind. 

“Morning, chérie.” He answers, in a non-committal voice.  

“And to think I was going to make you pancakes.” You sigh as you halt the movement of your hands and lean against the counter. 

A playful smile is on your lips when Charles excitedly raises his head. “Pancakes?” He asks in a soft voice. 

“I was going to add chocolate chips, too, but you didn’t say good morning to me and now I don’t think I’m in mood to be honest with you.” You shrug, starting to put away the bowls you took out. 

He quickly comes behind the counter to tickle some sense in you, and you use the bowl in your hands as a shield as you start laughing. He gives up after a while, pressing a kiss to your temple and fixing some of your hair which fell out of place during the ‘fighting’. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Wow, you actually want to help me cook for a change?” You coo, ruffling his hair again and hitting his hip with yours to get him out of your way. “Go wait on the other side, you grumpy baby.” He complies to your directions to sit on the other side of the island, but doesn’t bother with his phone this time. You make a motion towards his phone on the island with your head as you crack the eggs into the bowl. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, just some problem with the car.” He answers. “I might need to go to Maranello for a day or two. When is your flight back to New York?” 

“Oh– I can change it if you know the date–” You start to say, but he quickly cuts you off. 

“What? No, I don’t want you to go back.” He quickly says, shaking his head. “I just thought you might want to come with me rather than stay here.” 

“Oh,” You say, looking around. “It’s not a problem, I can stay and study.” 

There is a confused look on his face. “Stay? Here?” He asks over and over again. “Here? Stay? Alone?”

“Yes, Charles, I can manage to stay by myself.” You sigh. “I did it last summer for a month, you can trust me, alright?”

“You were in Monte Carlo for a month, last summer? How did I not catch you at all?” 

You let out another sigh, “In case you don’t realise, I’m very good at avoiding you.” You continue when he gives you yet another confused look as you start mixing the batter. “Charlotte told me to meet her at a restaurant but it was a set up for me to meet with you, so I got in the car and drove away. It was probably the closest we got to each other.” 

“Wow.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Just, wow.” 

You roll your eyes and glare at him. “Stop looking at me like that. My classes are all online this semester and Dr. Gambini thinks it’s good for me to spend more time here; it’s supposed to help me get closure, or something.” 

He gives you a big smile. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You ask him, his smile quickly mirroring on your own lips. 

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “And you can stay here all you want! And cook me breakfast, you know.” 

You let out a laugh this time. “I can get my own place, Charles.” 

“But then who will cook me breakfast?” He asks with a small pout. 

“You are a child, Perceval.” You laugh at the way he looks at you, with his elbows bent over the counter and his upper body leaning over the stove. “I’m only cooking you breakfast; you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me after this.” You joke. 

You turn around to look in the cupboard for the chocolate chips as you hear him mumble, “Too late.” 

You almost hit your head at the open cupboard door when you turn right back to look at him. “What?” You walk towards the island as you mumble out, “No, no, no, no, don’t say that. You just broke up with your girlfriend, Charles.”

“We broke up almost five months ago.” He announces, no hint of joking in his voice. “Right before the Abu Dhabi race.” 

“That’s not true.” You say, shaking your head. “I spoke to Charlotte; she told me everything was fine.” 

He shrugs, then offers you an explanation. “We announced it a couple of months later, but we’ve been broken up for a while.” 

“But then why did you call me a couple of days ago to tell me it was over?” You ask him, visibly confused. 

He looks guilty as he admits. “I– I don’t have a good answer for that.” He stalks over to the other side of the island again to trap you between himself and the marble in an attempt to prevent you from evading. “All I can say is that I love you.” 

“Oh, wow.” You say, suddenly you can find the right choice for words. “Say that again for me?”

“I love you, Y/N.” 

“Now in French?” 

“Je t'aime.”

“In Italian?”

“Ti amo.” He laughs this time, leaning down towards you to bring his face towards yours. “You done?” You nod your head with a giggle escaping past your lips. “This would be a perfect time to say something, you know.” 

“Oh, right.” You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.” 

“What?” He asks in horror. 

“Yeah, thank you. You know, for the–”

“Chérie!” He exclaims with his eyes wide. 

You continue your giggles as you place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards you, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you too, chez moi,” my home/place. The pancakes are long-forgotten when you pres your lips on his to give him a kiss, somewhere in the universe your twelve year-old is high-fiving with herself, but you are happy to be finally home. 

[teethondafloor]

Bill Kaulitz x gn!reader ~ Taking off Bill's makeup after a show.

________.✮.________

Year : 2006

Summary --

You and Bill have been best friends for over three years now and are completely inseparable. You two are partners in crime, ready to mock and poke fun at each other any chance you get, and even more ready to comfort each other right after. Tonight, the band happens to have a gig in your hometown, where you and Bill first met. You attend the concert and text Bill after, thrilled by the band's electric performance, when Bill has other plans in mind...

Bill Kaulitz x gn!reader

Cute friends to lovers arc

Warnings --

basic fluff (touching, kissing, etc)

Note --

This took me way too long to write but IM SO EXCITED TO POST IT AA. this is my first tumblr fanfic (I'm sadly a wattpad user) so sorry if it's bad :D

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{{y/n}} : dude! That was awesom! You rocked!

{{BILL}} : I hope. My throat hurts lol. Where r u?

{{y/n}} : headin home. U?

{{BILL}} : WTF no! I want to c u b4 u leave!

{{y/n}} : cope. Where r u??

{{BILL}} : backstage dressing room. I can sneak you in!

{{y/n}} : I will get caught!

{{BILL}} : no! I am comin for u. Where r u?

{{y/n}} : at the exit doors :P.

{{BILL}} : STAY.

{{y/n}} : OK.

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Standing near the exit doors of the venue, I wait for Bill to emerge from his post-show hideaway as I look around the empty room, which just moments ago was overflowing with screaming fans. I gaze up at the dim lights above, now painting the room in a slight yellow wash which my eyes peer at weakly after standing in the dark for almost 3 hours. The air-con is blasted through the room, the cool air brushing up against my bare arms and slapping me in my face momentarily as it passes me and continues lingering around the room.

After spending some time taking in my surroundings, I snap out of my thoughts and feel the hair on my arms rise, reacting to the cool air circling the area. At the other side of the room near the stage, I hear a sudden rummaging sound coming from the corner, casted with a dark shadow. I squint my eyes a little, wondering if it's Bill that's making all the noise. From the loud clanks and banging sounds, I can tell that the person is struggling through their journey. Must be him, I smile to myself. I slide my hands into my front jean pockets, continuously glancing over to the security who are stood by the doors, surprised that they don't hear the ruckus. I look back at the noise, which now grows fainter as I hear soft footsteps tiptoeing into the concert venue.

As I hear this, I notice a tall, dark figure slowly emerging from the dark corner, the black fog lurking behind it. I smile and take my hands out of my pockets, knowing that its Bill from his giant spiky hair sprouting from his head, which is the first thing I see as he steps into the room. He takes a few light steps closer, just enough to keep himself hidden from the security guards scouring around the area. As he comes closer, his face is lit up by the soft lights above us, making the ends of his dark hair glow beneath the light, and revealing his wide smile as he sees me at last. He's so bad at sneaking around, I scoff gently.

Not wanting to be seen by the employees, Bill stays behind the stage and out of their sight. I look up and see as he nods to the ground beneath him, signalling me to walk over to him. My eyes widen and I look over to the security, trying to communicate to Bill that I can't just walk up to him without being stopped. A puzzled look washes over his face and he bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. I point at the watch that's tied to my wrist, knowing that the doors will soon close for the night and I will be kicked out of the building if we don't hurry. Bill looks down at the ground before turning back to me and nodding, determined to get me backstage with him. At once, He runs back into the black void behind him, leaving me alone in the room again. I inch forward a little, wanting to run after him, before I stop myself, trusting that he has a plan.

One of the security guards at the doors notices me when I shuffle forward and calls to me form afar. "Excuse me, we need you to leave right now." Shit, I think. I freeze up for a second as he calls to me, glancing over to the corner for any sign of Bill one last time. Agitated that he fled, I look down at the floor and back at the guard. "Yeah sorry, I thought I lost something." I lie as an excuse for my long stay. Just as I'm about to take my first step towards the exit, all of the lights in the room shut off by the click of a switch, the dark swallowing everything and everyone in the room. All of the sudden, I hear firm and heavy footsteps running towards me from the opposite side of the room. Before I can even put my other foot on the ground, the footsteps are cut off and I feel as someone grabs my hand and pulls me, running back with me latched onto them. As I feel their hand in mine, I instantly know it's Bill, his many bracelets which cover half of his forearm rubbing up against my wrist as we sprint ahead and disappear behind the stage. The security guard is left clueless when the lights shut off, and speaks to the black void, only getting the sound of his own echo in response "...did you find what you were looking for? Excuse me?..."

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With a tight grip on my hand, Bill leads me into a tight alleyway, between the back of the stage and the dressing room which he climbed through before. The space is shielded from any light and trashed with clutter from previous bands performing at the venue. We giggle as we stop before walking through it. "Hey" he says with a smile, huffing from laugher. I can tell he is facing me, even in the complete darkness that surrounds us. "Hey" I say, lightly breathless from the excitement. We both peer through the tight gap, trying to spot an obstacle to look out for from afar, however, the shade absorbs any object inside, turning them invisible. I hear Bill turn to me again, his breath on my forehead. "Follow me, come on!" He giggles as he lifts up our hands which are still in a warm clasp. "Go!" I whisper whilst still laughing, nudging him forward playfully. Bill starts taking long and cautious steps through the alleyway, hesitating a little when he hits any object beneath us. I follow his lead, being cautious myself. I run my hand across the wall as we walk to keep myself balanced. Halfway through the black tunnel, I hear as Bill kicks an object at his feet. Still walking, I bump into his back, causing me to flinch a little. "Dude. what is it?" I whisper to him. I hear Bill rummaging gently through the junk with his feet, clearing a path for us to walk through. He laughs "I don't know, it scared the shit out of me" We both try and hold in our laughter and continue through the gap.

As we reach the end of the alley, a streak of light peers through a crack in the wall, revealing some of the junk that is spread out on the ground around us: Magazines, cigarettes, a white laced bra....I turn my head to the back of Bill's as I speak. "What is this? your sex dungeon?" I say, smiling with sarcasm in my voice. I hear Bill scoff and smile. "If it is, it's definitely not mine." We both giggle quietly. At last, we reach the end and I step back as Bill lets go of my hand and starts messing with the crack in the wall, which to my surprise, turns out to be a secret doorway to the venue's dressing room. He pushes on the heavy object which blocks the doorway, sliding his fingers under it, trying to shuffle it to the side. Seeing him struggle, I step forward and push the object forward to help, successfully forcing it out of the way.

Before stepping into the dressing room, we take a minute to catch our breaths; I lean on the wall next to me, and look at Bill as he pants. We lock eyes and burst into quiet laughter, still a little breathless. "I need to see this stupid fucking room" I say, smiling. I step away from the wall and finally enter the dressing room. The overhead lights gleam, almost blinding me as I step in, forcing me to raise my hand and shield my eyes from them. I look around, never had been backstage of a concert venue before.

A faint smell of cheap makeup and pungent nail polish lingers in the room, the sharp chemical scent burning my nostrils as I inhale it. I admire the lit up mirrors lined up along the wall, covered in stickers left behind by other musicians however long ago. Bill's and his bandmates' belongings are spread across the room, creating a small pile of clothes and bags on a large bean bag, pushed into the corner of the room. "Where are the others?" I say, referring to his bandmates. I turn my head to look back at Bill who steps into the room with his head titled down, before looking around the room himself. "They're at some party right now." He slides his hands into his pockets.

"They went without you?" I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, knowing Tom would not leave him out like this. "no no...I didn't want to go...I don't even know where it is, and I'm exhausted." He says as he stretches his arms out gently. "Dude!" I exclaim "We could've went there!" I punch him on the shoulder playfully, causing him to shoot his hands up to his face in defence. "You can go! I'm not going" He says with a judgemental look, teasing.

I hover around the room and view the splash of graffiti on one of the walls, seeing the signatures of hundreds of bands and musicians from the past, piled on top of each other into a barely legible scribble. "How did you even find the sex dungeon?" I'm still looking at the wall when he takes off his leather jacket and throws it at me without warning, as he says with a smile "I got bored waiting for Gustav to set up." a look of surprise bursts onto my face as I catch the jacket in my hands, which I then throw onto the pile with the rest of their junk, laughing.

"So, how do you like my dressing room?" He gestures his arms, showcasing the space and waits for my response. "You are really living the life here...I mean damn. "My eyes follow the walls, stopping to observe the space again. I raise my eyebrows. "You can't help but make it a shithole though." I say sarcastically, picking up a pair of boxer shorts I saw hanging from a chair next to me. He gasps and laughs, stepping towards me and snatching his boxers from my hands before throwing them onto the pile in the corner. I snicker when I see his red cheeks, blushing furiously from embarrassment as I infect him with my laughter. "Shut up! They're gonna hear us in here!" He whispers with a smile stretched wide across his face, still blushing. He walks over to me and gently grabs me by my shoulders, shaking me to stop me from laughing. As he holds me, I put my hand up to my mouth, covering it and muffling out the sounds of my giggles. I then push him away playfully, to which he steps back. "Stop touching everything, you're gonna break something." He whispers in a joking tone.

"Especially not your trunks." I huffed from laughter. Bill blinks slowly, visibly annoyed from my teasing. "I'm serious though, don't break anything because they'll make you pay for it." I notice how he avoids my eyes and tries to change the subject. "Oh come on...I'm not that clumsy. They should make you guys pay for trashing this room so bad." I smile. He looks down, smiling at my comment, his red cheeks growing fainter.

Bill walks over to the vanity across from us, cluttered with his makeup and endless hair products. He sits down, adjusts himself on the chair slightly and looks into the mirror, which reveals a tired face, caked in makeup and hairspray, looking back at him. I walk over to him and sit on the counter next to the mirror, kicking my feet which hang from the tall surface. I take a moment to look at him, as the vanity's warm lights glimmer in his eyes.

"The concert was unreal." I say, breaking the thin silence between us. "I'm glad you came back to play here. You're everything anyone talks about round here since you got so famous." I look over to him, rubbing my arm that is propping me up on the table. I feel a little bitter-sweet about Bill's fame. On one hand I am so proud of what him and the boys have accomplished, in like what...a year? It's insane. Though, I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss just hanging out. Being able to sit for hours and do nothing together. They always have something to do now, with no time to sit in the moment. The guilt of this pools inside me. It makes me feel like a brick wall that's cutting him off on his path. My biggest fear however, is Bill not knowing how to break down this wall, quietly tolerating my burden instead. "Really? I noticed so many people from school there, I really didn't want to fuck up." He says, now looking up at me with his head resting on his palm. "I'm pretty sure I saw Leon all the way at the back, poor guy got pushed out of the crowd." We laugh.

"As much as I like traveling around and playing, this feels better. I can't explain it." He smiles as he begins to stumble over his words. "I don't know, it only feels right to perform here you know?" He looks to me.

"Nah I get you, and we're glad you did." I smile at him and my eyes are suddenly drawn to his eye makeup, now rubbing off on his cheeks after every blink. "What?" He says and quickly turns to the mirror, now seeing his smudged eyeshadow. His eyes widen in shock, seeing how messy he looks after a show. "Dude, you look insane." I burst out laughing, placing my hand over my mouth as I holler. "Shut up!" He groans, laughing with me "I'm too tired for this".

I control my laughter and wait a moment before nudging one of the chairs at the vanity with my leg, sliding it closer to Bill. I hop onto it, now directly facing him. "Come here." I say. He turns away from the mirror as I grab a dry cotton pad from a pack on his desk and drip some makeup remover onto it, watching it absorb the chemicals. He inches towards me, pushing his hair away from his face to help me, and closing his eyes slowly as the cotton pad touches his cheek, working away at his pale foundation. We sit in silence for a few seconds, enjoying each others company while I scrub at the cosmetics, washing away the excitement and fatigue of the long night that has soaked into it. "Did you really want to go to that party? We could still go if you're desperate." Bill says quietly, breaking the silence.

"Nah..." I whisper "I'd rather be here with you." when my hand grazes over his face, I feel a thin smile spread across his cheeks when he hears my words. He peers at me with his eyes half shut and backs away a little. "Look at you being all sappy..." he smiles.

"Shut up and give me your face." I say, taking a hold of his jaw and pulling his face closer to my reach. He lets out a short exhale, charmed by my boldness. I run the cotton pad across his face, quickly rubbing it over his lips playfully. He smiles again now with his teeth. "That was so on purpose..." He says with his eyes still sealed shut. "What?...no.." I say sarcastically.

After dirtying the cotton pad with his foundation, I grab a second one and move up to his shadowed eyes. "Keep your eyes closed...I need to sort all this out." I scoff, laughing as I poke fun at the mess painted on his eyes that has now somehow travelled up to his eyebrows. I take the pad and a wet wipe for good measure, massaging his eyelids. He swallows quietly "I've really missed you" he says out of nowhere. A little stunned, I continue cleaning him. "Me too." My tone suddenly shifts and you can hear a faint sadness in my voice. "I'm sorry I've been going away all the time, I would take you with us if I could..."

"Don't worry about it...I'm always back here if you need me anyway."

"Well I...don't want you only when I need you, I want you everywhere with me." I'm shocked by his sudden sentimentality, not really knowing how to respond since our usual way of showing love is by bullying each other until one caves in. "I know I know, that's not what I meant." I reassured him.

"I know, it's cool." he whispers "You know...sometimes I wish we wouldn't have to travel for so long, I've missed this." he pauses "Y/n...what if I stay?" He falls quiet, waiting for me to say something to fill in the silence. I look to him, a subtle face of worry crossing my face as I pull myself together. "Dude, stop." I say "Don't be stupid, this is...a crazy opportunity. Getting to travel around Europe and sing, that's nuts....don't let me hold you back...please."

"You're not "holding me back" y/n-"

I cut his sentence short "But what if I am? And you're just not realising it?...I don't want to be that." I blurt out.

"What?..." He opens his eyes, takes me by my wrists and holds me, preventing me from moving. His eyes glare at me. "No...don't do that. You're not in my way, do you understand?" His tone turns more agitated, worried that I'm giving myself a hard time because of his absence. A sudden silence falls between us like a transparent wall piling up and separating us, numbing me to his touch. This time, I'm not the wall. "Have you been worrying about this while I've been gone?" he looks to me hoping I'll say no, but already knowing the answer before the words leave his mouth. "Yeah...a little....a lot." I correct myself "You can't blame me though...I don't see you for weeks, sometimes even months. I know that's not your fault, but I'm allowed to be upset." I say, standing my ground.

"I know, it upsets me too." He lets go of my wrists and slides his hands down to mine, gently holding my hands with care. He smiles softly as he holds me, rubbing the top of my right hand with his thumbs, which makes both of us smile. We take time to comfort each other, acknowledging how hard the situation is for the both of us, yet we pull through. "Well you're here now." I sigh "You're stopping here for a while I heard, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we're taking a break here until we tour in the East." He says "And I'm glad I'm spending it with you." His eyes admire me as he speaks. I shift my hand a little, making him let go, and I return to his smeared eye makeup.

"So how's life without me at your hip?" He smiles as I exhale and roll my eyes, teasingly. "Better than ever." I say, with a sarcastic tone, making Bill gasp. "School's ok I guess, it's a teensy bit more bearable than last year at least." I take a short pause "...I won a writer's award two weeks ago..." I hold my breath as I wait for the buckets of Bill's compliments and praise to flood the room when he hears of my accomplishment. His eyes shoot open and his neck tilts forward in awe, his lips apart. "Are you kidding? That's amazing y/n! Why didn't you tell me??" He pushes me lightly on the shoulder.

"You expect way too much of me..." I shake my head and smile.

"I knew you would win! I told youuu..." he makes sure to rub the fact that he believed in me in my face before congratulating me "Well done, I'm really proud of you y/n..." He gazes into my eyes and gently places his hand on my knee. I observe his movements and quickly glance away, smiling. "Ok you can shut up now."

"Never. How can I when I'm being taken care of by a future author! Maybe I'll let you write my biography when you're as famous as me ;)" He teases, knowing I don't know how to handle compliments, yet he never fails to praise me anyway, just so I know. "Ok enough! Fine, I'm... proud of myself too I guess!"

"That's the spirit!" he taps my knee lightly, taking his hand away and resting it back onto the arm of his chair. I smile and shake my head, a little flustered from his admiration which, I hate to admit, I secretly love. "So how's tour so far? Are you eating well?" I ask with nurture in my voice as gratitude for his compliments. "Of course I am...you care way too much." He smiles.

"And you're right." I reply, playfully.

"I love that you care so much...even when you pretend you don't." His voice quietens.

"What does that mean?" I scrunch my eyebrows at his words.

"I don't know...you're just so...thoughtful. You always know what to do and say and-"

"Yeah right." I smile, a little overwhelemed by the flood of compliments. "Thanks though, I really do try my best."

"And that's enough for me." He whispers, his cheeks turning a faint pink. "You make me good...or feel like, at my core, I am good. I love it." without teasing or poking fun at him for once, I let him spill his emotions out onto the table where we both can see . I sit and listen, gently wiping his eyes with care. "It's so hard to leave you here, stuck in this village. It's so hard to not hear you laugh and sing and dance beside me... It's so hard not to love you for all thise things" I feel his tender fingertips brushing against my knee as he talks, slowing my pace. Before I can reply, his other hand shifts to my second knee and he holds it delicately. "Bill..." I whisper, with a little confusion but an unexpected sprinkle of excitement rushing through me. he bites his lip, pondering what to say next and trying hard not to stumble over his words. He opens his eyes and gazes directly into my mine, seeing all of me. He takes my hand. I feel butterflies nibbling on the walls of my stomach, their fluttering wings tickling me as they desperately want to flee and touch and love. In the moment, I don't know if it's wrong to feel so much love and desire for him, this ravenous craving that eats me from inside. I can only do what feels right, and so I let the butterflies feed.

He swallows gently "I want to care for you just like you do...I want to..." His hand raises to my face, holding me and caressing my cheek with his thumb in small circles. My hand laches onto his wrist gently, weak to his tender touch. The room falls silent, the only sound in the room coming from the lights above us, buzzing, humming on one note to our intimate moment. "Can I..." His voice fades out slightly and cracks from nervousness. "Can I kiss you?"

His words ring in my head, bouncing off of my ear drums and into my throat, leaving me speechless. I hold him for a while, our hands sharing each other's warmth through touch. I glance down at his lips that are slightly open, breathing in the little air between us; inhaling the glass wall that not moments ago parted us. With desire and lust, my eyes look back into his, and I nod gently. He takes a second to process this, before cupping my face in the palm of his hands and pulling me closer to him, until the wall turns to paper and our lips are inches away from each other. As I close my eyes, I feel his plush lips on mine, sharing our sweet taste. The butterflies in me settle when we collide, and the walls around us feel as though they are caving in, trapping us in each other's arms. As he holds me, I feel cared for. Safe. Warm.

He kisses me delicately and then again with more passion, before pulling away to let me breathe. As he leans back, his mouth curves into a sweet smile, his lips now stained with my light lipstick. I laugh as I notice his red tinted lips, stained with my evidence. I take his hand again, locking my pointer finger with his. "Looks like I'll have to clean you up again..."

"What a shame..." Bill whispers sarcastically, a wide smile pulling apart his rosy cheeks, now matching his lips.

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Tysm for readingg :)) <3 this was so much fun to write

I'm currently working on a 12 part Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader fic on wattpad and I've published the first part!

teethondafloor on wattpad

Zuźka

[littlemissmiller]

Bad Press (part 1)

Pairing: dark!toxic!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, slight sejanus x fem!reader

Summary: (au) after avoiding getting caught cheating in the games, a hopeful presidential candidate snow is fed up with your slanderous reporting, so he decides put you in your place

Warning: 21+ (drinking), eventually smut, blackmail, threats, dom!snow, sub!reader, slight jealousy, slight misogyny, obsession, power imbalance, porn with a plot

Word count: 2k

A/N: hi :) this is my very first public fanfic soooo please cut me some slack if it sucks, but if it doesn’t i have many many more in the vault so I appreciate the constructive feedback. this first part is just spicy build up which i could have posted as all one story, but it makes more sense to split it up (plus i love a good cliffhanger) anyways enjoy! part 2 is coming soon here

Coriolanus is unsatisfied as he turns today’s papers. Today’s headline are insulting.

Presidential candidate’s poll numbers fall like Snow.

He reads the byline and is not surprised. You always write these nasty articles about him. You seem to be no fan of his, article after article all he reads is about how poor his politics are or criticizing his work. In the summer times, when the Hunger Games roll around, you always have something to write about. How boring they are or how as gamemaker, lacks the proper skills to keep the games entertaining. None of which was true, but that’s not what bothers Coriolanus. What bothers him is when people truly think they know more than they do. When they think they are smarter than they are. It’s pathetic and that’s what truly, truly bothers him. The arrogance. He flips the page and clicks his tongue, as he reads the next headline,

Plinth Presidential Potential?

He checks the byline, it’s you, your article. Again. Is this a game to you? A funny joke to be such a fantastic moron as to write such defamation? Once he was president, press would not be so careless in their writing. He sips his tea squinting at the article and the black and white photo of his longtime classmate and friend, Sejanus Plinth. He didn’t even want to run for president, he didn’t care for the privileges of his life. He would much rather be back in the reaping bowl if he could have his way. Nothing more than a little district brat according to Coriolanus. He folds the paper up, rises from his seat, and tucks the paper under his arm. As he leaves the dining room, he tosses the paper into the fireplace, not bothering to watch as the ink melts and the print is reduced to ashes. He storms to his bedroom to finish getting ready before another day at the lab with Dr. Gaul working on new mutants for next years games.

Coriolanus stands in front of his mirror, slicking back his hair, he tries not to let the headlines bother him. He couldn’t let you keep getting away with this slanderous behavior. Then it dawns on him. He knows exactly how to keep you in line. Later that week was The Candidate Gala which, despite the latest publication, Coriolanus would attend with pride and have his poll numbers even higher than they already are. He would…charm you. That’s a nice way to think of it. He would make sure to get you nice and wrapped around his finger then you’d behave. He realizes he’ll to need get leverage with you, use his connections to Dr. Gaul as a scare tactic perhaps? He thinks of what to do as he leaves his penthouse for the lab.

The Gala comes around quickly and Coriolanus was more than ready to attend. On the drive there, he thought about you. He knew you’d be there of course. The Candidate Gala always had invited reporters and he knew you, given your contrarian reporting recently, you would be an attending guest. The car pulls up and Coriolanus exits. He walks into the venue and immediately heads turn. He fakes a few smiles and waves to some familiar faces, but as he stalks the crowd, his eyes only search for your face. He looks around and then, there you are. Your long, silky, black hair as straight as an arrow as it grazes just above the small of your back. And your red dress, which hugs you just right, is hard not to notice as you stand there looking coy and annoyingly sweet. You casually hold a flute of champagne in your hand, it dangles from your fingertips as if it is about to slip out. You’re immersed in conversation with, who Coriolanus recognizes as another journalist. You flip your hair past your shoulder and laugh. You don’t seem to notice him as he stalks towards you. You don’t notice him at all and as he announces himself to you, you flinch slightly.

“Mr. Snow. It’s good to finally make your acquaintance.” You shake his hand

“That’s funny you say that given you seem to have me figured out don’t you?” Coriolanus sneers

At that comment, your friend steps away, excusing herself by acting like she sees someone she knows. You give her a knowing look, then turn your attention back to the handsome young blonde, who you allegedly despise.

“Look Snow, it’s nothing personal, I write fair.” You give him an innocent look, touching your hand delicately to your chest, causing his eyes to glance at the valley of your breasts. He flashes his eyes back at you, rolling them and huffing out a sigh of disgust.

“And your readers really believe Sejanus Plinth wants to announce his run for presidency? This late in the game?”

You shrug your shoulders knowingly.

“Well you never know. I felt that piece wasn’t too unrealistic. I laid out a pretty good case for a President Plinth.” She smirks putting extra emphasis on her P’s as she speaks.

Snow smirks back at you as you bite down on your red stained lip.

“You think you’re such a clever girl don’t you. What’s your game darling?”

“No game.” You shake your head, batting your eyes.

Snow’s eyes dart across the room, making eye contact with the same lost, lonely little boy who you have deemed as the next candidate for president. Sejanus notices and smiles at him, but Snow quickly turns his attention back to you. He leans in close, towering over you.

“You know the press wasn’t always so careless with their stories.” He starts, taking a glass of posca from a waiter as they pass by.

“There was a time where truth and facts held importance. Before the war, then journalists started speaking out of term. Writing lies, slander against their great Capitol.” He nods. You raise an eyebrow at him, beginning to wonder what is point is.

“A lot of scholars would agree that the immense amount of freedom of press is what led to the Rebellion. All the rumors floating around. No one knew what was true, what was merely a tall tale created by some journalist who just wanted to stir things up. You don’t want journalism to divest into some sorta fraud again right? That would be a real shame.” Snow recounts, emphasizing the few last words.

You realize how close he’s standing to you and take a small step back, your eyes never leaving his. You temper your breath, hoping he can’t hear your heartbeat as it races in your chest. His pretty, blue eyes pierce your own, poking at you to respond to him. He gives you a look as if he has just asked you if you like his suit or think the color looks nice on him. You feel caught off guard and slightly threatened. You sip your champagne and gather a newfound confidence.

“Be that as it may, I’m sure that people have learned their lesson. Besides, Capitol news doesn’t even make it to the districts anymore so if anything happens, and you don’t become president…” you pause, pouting at him slightly.

“…well, no one would know you there. Private Snow instead of President Snow would be the greater shame. Don’t you think?” You smirk, touching his shoulder briefly. You bid him a sarcastic farewell and go off to find your friend.

Coriolanus is left alone, his cheeks red hot and his breathing becomes laborious. He’s fuming and will not be made a fool of so easily. He hasn’t felt this small and out of place in a long time. Just then, Sejanus walks towards him with a goofy, unknowing smile.

“Chatting it up?” He asks nervously

“Not really…” Coriolanus huffs

“Oh well that’s a relief.” Sejanus smiles letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Why?” Coriolanus inquires

“Well..” Sejanus leans in “I’ve kinda been seeing her…I thought I should tell you” he whispers

“Oh? Is that why you’re Panem’s next president according to her.” Coriolanus scoffs, hoping to sound sarcastic

Sejanus blushes slightly and rolls his eyes.

“I know. I had no idea until this week, but finding out was..ha..k-kinda a funny story actually...” he starts to stutter.

“I met her at one of my Dad’s business partner’s dinners. I hit it off with her, took her home. S-she had uh spent the night with me and was teasing me the all night, and well I thought it was teasing, anyways she was saying that I would make a good president and then I told her I wouldn’t want to take my chances away from you. Then the next morning she calls me…” Sejanus continues to recall, a goofy boyish smile spreading across his face.

“And I thought that, I mean I thought she was just being sweet you know, after staying over. Well she called me to tell me to look at the papers and yeah…”

Coriolanus soaks the new revelation in, inhaling deeply, trying to remain calm at his friend who had just confessed to him that he’s sleeping with the same journalist that writes absolutely lies and malarkey about him.

“Did you know it was her?”

“You know I didn’t pay attention to the news that much. I didn’t even realize she was the same journalist you complain about until that next morning.”

Coriolanus thought for a moment. Senjanus wouldn’t lie about that. After all he really doesn’t pay any attention to the news and politics which could only mean one thing.

“She’s trying to get to me..” Coriolanus declares. “She knew we were friends and is trying to pit us against each other? Why?” he whispers

“Damn. I need to drop her for sure now. That sucks because she was…I mean…” Sejanus sighs, a slight lustful longing in his eyes

The gears turn in Coriolanus head. Yes! This is the exact leverage he needs with you. And he knows exactly how to charm you now.

“Don’t worry about it” Coriolanus smiles deceitfully patting Sejanus on the shoulder.

As the evening goes on, Coriolanus chats up a few old classmates and a few Senators. All the while, he kept his eye on you, waiting for the perfect moment to give you the attention you apparently seek. Then, he catches you departing. You make your away alone out of the venue and Coriolanus pushes through the crowd to get to you. Once he catches up to you, he slides his fingers around your wrist and tugs. He calls you by your last name, slightly out of breath.

“What do you want Snow?” You scoff, trying to tug your hand away, but he pulls you closer. His breath fans your face and you turn away. “Let go…” you grumble. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

“And let you go write another one of your little stories. I don’t think so princess.”

“Are you threatening a member of the press?”

“No. I want to set the record straight though. Why don’t you interview me?” He smirks

“What? Interview you?”

“Yes, don’t act like you don’t want an interview from me. After all, you seem to be a big fan of mine no? Always writing about me aren’t you? Why don’t you get it straight from the source this time?”

“Well…” you start “it would boost the paper’s rating so…fine. Call our secretary and set up a time with me later this-“ you rush then unexpectedly, he pulls against his chest, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Come home with me” he whispers, grazing his forefinger and thumb across your chin. Your heart flutters slightly. You’re beginning to be charmed by him, you want to resist, but deep down this is what you have been after. His attention. You pout your lips and squint at him.

“What is your game Snow?”

“No game.” He smirks

“Well I’m done drinking for the night so…” you breathe

“I have tea” Coriolanus cuts in and before you know it you’re walking up the steps to the building of his lavish penthouse.

꧁❧✽☙꧂

Part 2

[rkivestudiosss]

are we falling in love? (teaser)

a fic inspired by jungkook's song - yes or no

pairing: idol!jungkook x f!reader

keywords: fluff, angst, (might have) smut

word count: TBA

note: hello! this is the first ever time i'm writing a bts fanfic and it's been so so long since i've written anything!hope you guys like it🤧

minors dni pls! :)

you and jungkook met right after his concert. you forgot your phone and you went back into the stadium to get it.

normally, the security guards wouldn't let you in, they'd ask you to come back tomorrow and go find it at the lost and found section.

but since it was raining and the venue was almost empty, plus, you forgot to bring your umbrella so you look like a drowned chicken, the guards' heart was softened and they'd let you in. just once. nothing's gonna happen...right?

and that's where you saw him. jeon jungkook, the world's biggest and most influential idol, there, sitting on the front row.

he seemed to be annoyed, perhaps because of his performance today, it always felt as he's never good enough for himself. his outfit was changed, from the sparkly black suit to a more casual, comfortable big tee and baggy sweatpants.

you tried to be quiet, like you're not even there. because you don't want to startle him, or anyone so you wouldn't get kicked out (the phone, remember?)

emphasis on trying, because as you try to sneakily get to your seat earlier tonight your knees accidentally hit the metal part of the chair, causing you to unconsciously swear out loud.

"fuck!"

and like a startled bunny, jungkook turned his head around real quick and started looking around for the voice. and he locked his eyes on you.

"who's there?" he asked.

oh shit. you thought. "uhm, sorry...i was just here to get my phone...i left it on my seat earlier when the concert ended."

please please PLEASE dont kick me out. you think to yourself.

"oh, sure. where's your seat? i'll help you." he said, getting up from the chair.

"...huh?" you were NOT expecting that, why is he so nice? what if you're the bad guy?

"uh, your phone? i can help you look for it." jungkook replies as he look at you with the brightest smile you've probably ever seen in your entire existence.

"oh. it's okay, uhm...i don't want to bother you further." you refused anyways, although you REALLY wanted to give in.

but you know your boundaries. he's your idol, a singer, and you're just...you.

[candycandy00]

The Scarecrow Walks at Night - A Shigaraki x Reader Halloween Fanfic

You spend Halloween night alone at your grandparents’ farm, but there’s something strange about the scarecrow you’ve always felt a connection to.

Part of the League of Villains Halloween Horror Anthology! Featuring Shigaraki as a scarecrow!

Smut. 18+. Horror (the creepy kind not the gory kind). Mild blood. Fem Reader.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

On your way back from a concert you just attended several states away, you decide to stop and spend the night at your grandparents’ farm. You thought it would be fun to drive to the concert instead of flying, make a solo road trip of it and stop here and there along the way, seeing the sights. 

Turns out there aren’t that many sights to see in rural farm country. So you decided to just drive straight home after the concert, but you’ve been getting drowsy and decide you need to stop somewhere today and rest. That’s when you remember the farm your grandparents live on, just a thirty minute drive out of your way, sitting at just about the halfway point between the concert venue and home. It’s the perfect place to rest, and you just know your grandparents will be thrilled to see you. 

As a child, you visited the farm often, spending many summers there. But when you were around nine years old, your parents stopped taking you to the farm. Something about your grandparents buying an RV and looking for any excuse to travel, so they came to visit you and your parents instead of the other way around. You missed playing on the farm, feeding the animals, running through the massive cornfield. But over the years your memories of the farm faded, until your time there was more like half forgotten dreams. 

Still, you had GPS, and when the signal cut out on your phone due to the unreliable rural cell service, you had your hazy memories to guide you to the farm. 

It was hard to miss actually, being large and having a beautiful big white farm house, a bright red barn, and various other structures like tool sheds, storage buildings, and things of that nature. All things you suddenly remember playing around or in as you pull into the driveway. 

You immediately notice that there are no vehicles in sight. You know they still own an SUV and an old pickup truck aside from the RV, but none of them are parked nearby. You tried to call them a couple of times before you lost service, but couldn’t get through to them. They were old fashioned though, and disliked cell phones. If they were not home, chances are you’d never get ahold of them. 

After getting out of your car, you walk to the front door and knock. No answer comes. The whole house is silent. In the distance you hear chickens clucking, but no other noise. With a disappointed sigh, you walk over to a free standing garage your grandpa had built way before you were born. There’s a crack between the heavy wooden doors big enough for you to peek inside. You can see the SUV and the pickup, but no RV. They must be out traveling somewhere. 

You’re about to give up and go find a motel in town when an idea strikes you. When you were a child, you remember your grandparents leaving a house key under some stones in the front yard. You jog over and search, easily finding a shiny metal key. It was amazing how many memories were coming back to you now that you were here. 

You step back onto the front porch and use the key on the door. You know your sweet, easy going grandparents wouldn’t mind you staying at their house even if they aren’t home. 

As you open the door, you notice a homemade wreath decorated in orange and black colors, a plastic pumpkin glued to it. You’d almost forgotten that today is Halloween! 

After carrying in your overnight bag and looking around the house a bit, you walk back outside. There’s something you need to see before it gets dark out. 

You walk through the cornfield, the path feeling familiar to you, almost like second nature. Yes, you remember now. How could you have ever forgotten? You walked this same path so many times as a child, walking it now is like muscle memory. 

Finally, toward the end of the cornfield, close to the edge of the property, you find it. 

“I’m back, Tomura,” you say, looking up. “Did you miss me?”

High above you, affixed to a wooden stake, is a scarecrow. He’s dressed in faded denim pants and a red and black flannel shirt that is in surprisingly good shape. On his head sits an old hat, long scraggly corn silks hanging out from under it serving as his hair. Two red-colored stones function as his eyes. As always, he seems to be looking right at you. 

While there are many scarecrows on the property, this one is special to you. Even as a child, you were drawn to it. You came out here to play every day, and you pretended he was your “boyfriend”. Which meant you had tea parties with him and imagined him dancing with you at Cinderella-style balls. Most of all, you just talked to him. You told him everything, every mundane detail of your day, every secret, every fear. And somehow, it felt like he was listening. 

Some local kids who came over to play with you occasionally told you his name was Tomura, and you never forgot it. You almost forgot the scarecrow himself, but not that name. It was burned into your mind. 

They told you other things about him too. Things that made you cry. What was it again? Something about Tomura once being a real young man. Ah, the memories were coming back more clearly now. 

It was the kind of silly story kids make up to scare each other. They told you that long ago, way before your grandparents owned the farm, Tomura lived there with his family. When he became an adult, he wanted to leave the farm and move to the city. But his abusive father wouldn’t accept that, and as punishment, Tomura was tied to the stake like a living scarecrow and left in the cornfield. It was just supposed to be an unpleasant afternoon, but something went wrong, and Tomura died out there. 

For some reason, his corpse was left tied to the stake, and exactly one year later, on Halloween night, Tomura came back to life and slaughtered his entire family in his madness. 

But that’s not the part that bothered you. No, you were crying over the cruelty of his father, the sadness Tomura must have felt. As a child, you ran to the scarecrow and hugged his feet, sobbing out apologies for what had been done to him. Around that time your grandparents told you to stop playing with the scarecrow, apparently worried that you were growing too attached to the thing. Come to think of it, that was the last summer you spent with them. 

There was another part to the story the kids told you, a part that did actually frighten you, but you can’t remember what it was. As you gaze up at the scarecrow, you wonder if that memory will return while you’re here. 

When you were here last, you could barely reach his feet, but now you’re tall enough to reach his waist. You step closer to him, feeling oddly shy before giggling to yourself. He’s just a scarecrow. It was just a dumb story. You find yourself wrapping your arms around him, giving him the hug you couldn’t quite manage before. 

Looking up into those red “eyes”, you smile at him. “I don’t know if you remember me,” you say, feeling a little foolish for talking to him but also feeling the need to say this, “but I came here a lot when I was little. I played here, talking to you and pretending we were friends. I know you couldn’t talk back, but I always felt like you heard me. Thanks for that. You made my childhood a little less lonely.” 

You release his straw body and back away. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I came to see you. I’ll be here tonight and a little while tomorrow. I’ll come say goodbye before I leave.”

Blushing slightly at your own silliness, you walk back into the cornfield, toward the house. You feel a little better now that you’ve gotten that off your chest. You knew he couldn’t actually hear you. He was an inanimate object after all. But you said those words for yourself, not him. 

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket just a few feet into the corn. You check it to see that you have two bars of signal out here. You make sure there are no important messages or missed calls, no contact from your grandparents, before going back to the house. 

The sun is setting as you step onto the porch, and you take a moment to appreciate the view of the lovely pink sky over the farm before going inside. 

Over the next hour, you make yourself comfortable. You shower and change into comfy little knit shorts and tank top, what you use as pajamas, and help yourself to some snacks in the kitchen before curling up in front of their surprisingly impressive tv to watch a movie. Being Halloween night, most channels are having horror movie marathons, so you settle on part eight of a random horror franchise. It’s a movie you saw when you were a teenager, but you’ve forgotten most of the “plot” by now. 

Only twenty minutes into the film, you hear a knocking at the front door. Your first thought is that it’s your grandparents, but then you quickly remind yourself that they wouldn’t knock on their own door. So who could it be? Trick or treaters? Possible, but this house is practically in the middle of nowhere. Maybe your grandparents are known for giving out great candy? If so, these kids are going to be disappointed. 

You grab the Little Debbie cake and small bag of chips you’d laid out for yourself and head to the door. When you open it, no one is there. You sit the snacks on a nearby table and step out onto the porch. 

“Hello?” you ask, rubbing your bare arms with your hands. You didn’t realize the nights were so chilly here in the fall. The porch light is glowing bright yellow above your head, and you get the distinct impression that someone is looking at you, watching you. It suddenly feels like you’re under a spotlight as you gaze out over the inky black darkness of the farm, only broken up by a couple of lights situated near the tool shed and the garage. 

Mildly creeped out, you hurry back inside, making sure to lock the door. 

You return to the movie, having apparently not missed much. As the minutes pass by, you begin to relax again, figuring you were probably just mistaken when you thought you heard the knocking. This is an old house that you’re not overly familiar with. Of course it’s going to make creepy sounds occasionally. 

Just as your eyes begin to slide closed, drowsiness overtaking you, the knocking comes again. This time louder, more frantic. You practically jump off the couch in alarm. You stand there for a moment, listening, your heart beating wildly. This is not your imagination. This is definitely not just the sounds of an old house settling. This is literal banging! And it won’t stop. 

You mind races. Could this be trick or treaters? Doubtful. The banging certainly doesn’t sound like it’s coming from children. A Halloween prank then? Perhaps some local teens spotted your car in the driveway and decided to have a little fun with you? 

As the banging intensifies, you can’t help considering the darker possibilities. Maybe someone had planned to break into your grandparents’ house while they were away and now you’re just an unexpected obstacle they would have to deal with. Or maybe it’s a serial killer on the prowl? Or hell, maybe the house is fucking haunted. 

You slowly step closer to the door, and when you’re just a few feet away, you scream out, “What do you want?”

The banging immediately stops. You stare at the door, disappointed that it’s an old wooden type that has no peephole or windows. You don’t hear a response. You don’t hear anything. No voices, no footsteps walking off the creaky wooden porch. So are they still there? Just waiting on the other side of the door? 

“I have a gun!” you shout. “If you try to come inside, I’ll blow your fucking brains out! I don’t care who you are!”

You listen for any sort of reaction, but hear nothing. You creep closer to the door, trying to hear footsteps, hoping to hear them leaving. Just as you get close enough to press your ear to the door, something on the other side bangs against it loudly, making the wood tremble on the hinges. You scream and leap back. 

That’s it. You’re not putting up with this any longer! You run over to the landline phone in the kitchen and pick it up to call the police, but to your horror, there’s no dial tone. You check two more phones in the house, but get the same results. Did the person outside cut the phone line? Or had your grandparents been off traveling for so long that they didn’t bother paying their phone bill? Either way, you’re fucked. 

You check your cell phone just in case, hoping for a miracle, but there’s no service. 

Suddenly you remember something, more of that story the kids told you all those years ago. Something happens every year on Halloween night, that’s what they said. But what was it? You try to force yourself to remember the rest, but you just can’t. Anyway, it was just a dumb kids’ story. You have more important things to deal with, like the banging on the front door that just won’t stop. 

All you want to do is run to your car and drive away from here, but you’re too scared to go outside. Also, you’re parked close to the front porch, which is exactly where the threat is. 

“Go away!” you scream through the door. “I called the police! They’ll be here any minute!”

The banging suddenly stops again. Did your bluff work? You creep closer to the door again, cautiously. Then you hear it, the sound of footsteps! The porch floorboards creak and groan as someone makes their way across it, slowly and steadily. Then it sounds like they’re going down the steps. 

You run to the living room and try to peep out the window without being seen, but you only catch a quick glimpse of a shadow going around the corner of the house, toward the back. 

Is the back door locked? You never checked it after you got here, but surely your grandparents left it locked. Then again, this was exactly the sort of place where people would feel safe leaving their doors unlocked. 

You make a mad dash for the back door, running through the living room, kitchen, and laundry room to find the brown wooden door. 

It’s unlocked! 

Just as you reach for it, there’s a sudden banging on the wood, making you jump back in terror. You’re too late! You back away from the door, waiting for it to open and reveal some dangerous figure ready to kill you. 

But it doesn’t open. The knob never even turns. Are they not even going to check to see if it’s locked? The banging stops then, and is replaced by another sound. Scraping. Like metal on wood. Like a blade scratching the door. 

What the hell is going on?! If they’re not coming in, are they actually just trying to terrify you? Is it a Halloween prank after all? Or is it a killer who just wants to toy with you for a while first? The fact that they’re still here after your bluffs about the gun and the police suggests they aren’t just pranksters. 

But… something else occurs to you. If they’re back here, then they’re not on the front porch. Which means you could possibly make it to your car! There’s a risk involved. If there’s more than one person out there, one of them could be waiting to ambush you. Or the person could run around to the front before you make it to your car. But the risk of  staying put is even greater. Whoever is out there could come in at any moment. Even if the back door was locked, there were several windows that could easily be broken and climbed through. 

With no time to give it any more thought, you make a split decision. You dash through the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the wooden knife block on the counter as you go, then to the living room where you grab your keys and your phone. You cram the phone into your bra, having no pockets in the tiny, thin pajama shorts you’re wearing, then you unlock the front door and fling it open. 

Thankfully, there’s no one on the other side, and no one on the porch when you step outside. With the coast clear, you run straight for your car and throw yourself into the driver’s seat. You stick the keys in the ignition, still clutching the knife in one trembling hand. You turn the key, and you hear the engine begin to start, and then… nothing. It dies. You turn the key again, but the car still won’t start. You try several more times, growing more panicked and frantic with each attempt. Screaming in frustration and slapping the steering wheel, you accidentally cut your own hand with the knife. 

“Shit!” You wipe the blood off on your white tank top and jump out of the car, popping the hood at the same time. You know nothing about cars, but you feel like you should check anyway. When you look under the hood, you feel your stomach drop to your feet. 

The engine is completely demolished. It looks like someone took a large blunt object and just… wrecked it. Destroyed it. You close the hood and look toward the house. Do you have time to make it back inside and lock the front door? What if the person outside the back door finally tried to open it and is now hiding in the house? 

While you’re still debating with yourself on what to do, you see movement coming from the side of the house. Someone is coming! You want to see who it is, but you don’t want to be discovered out here. You had the good sense to shut the front door, so it might take them a while to realize you’re no longer in there. 

You dart into the cornfield, using it as cover. You try to look through the stalks, but you can’t see the person clearly. You can only make out what looks like a red shirt, and some sort of long, shiny weapon. 

Suddenly you remember that your phone got a couple bars of service earlier today when you were close to the end of the field, near Tomura. Deciding this is your best shot at getting help, you run through the corn as fast as you can. 

It takes several minutes for you to reach the end of the field, and you’ve already got your phone out, checking for bars, staring at the brightly lit screen in the darkness. When you reach Tomura, you’re focused on your phone, but there’s still no service. When you finally glance up, you realize something is wrong. You step back and tilt your phone up, using its light to see. 

The stake is empty. Tomura, the scarecrow, is gone. 

The confusion is so strong that it briefly overrides your fear. Did someone steal him? For what purpose? 

And then, like puzzle pieces fitting together, you remember the rest of the story those kids told you so long ago. 

“Every year, on Halloween night, Tomura comes back to life. He climbs down from his stake and stalks the farm, killing everyone he finds!”

You stare at the empty stake, trying to convince yourself that it was just a story, that someone is pulling a very elaborate prank on you. But somehow, in that moment, you know the truth. You sense it. Tomura had been outside those doors. Tomura had destroyed your car. And Tomura was going to kill you. 

The vibration of your phone startles you, causing you to yelp in fear. You look at the screen one bar! Praying it’s enough, you quickly begin dialing 911, but the bar disappears before you can finish. 

“No!” you hiss at your phone, trying to walk around to different spots to get more service. 

You’re so focused on the phone again that you bump into something in the darkness. You freeze, swallowing and slowly turning the phone’s screen around to illuminate what your body is currently pressed against. 

A red and black flannel shirt. You scream and jump back, realizing that Tomura is right in front of you, narrowly avoiding the blade of an enormous reef hook that he’s swinging at you. In the chaos and the dark, you don’t see his face clearly, but you know it’s him. He swings the reef hook again, then a third time, each time barely missing you as you shriek and dodge. 

“Please stop, Tomura!” you cry, still holding the knife in your hand but unable to get close enough to use it. 

He freezes mid swing, the weapon held high above his head. The shiny metal blade seems to quiver for a moment as you scramble to back away, but then he swings it down. You try to jerk out of the way, but it swipes your shoulder, severing the strap of your tank top and leaving a thin, bloody slice in your skin. You cry out in pain and clutch the wound. It’s not very deep, but it hurts, and blood is leaking out around your fingers. 

Again, Tomura seems to freeze in place. This time you manage to run back into the cornfield, turning off your phone so the light doesn’t give you away. You run and run, not even sure which direction you’re going in. Are you going back to the house? Or somewhere else? Where even is the nearest neighbor? 

When you finally break free of the corn, you find yourself in front of the old barn. It hadn’t been used in years even when you used to visit as a child, so you’d often played in it. You remember being scolded for climbing into the hayloft. With precious few options, you decide to try hiding inside it. 

The barn smells a bit musty, but not too bad otherwise. Your grandparents were sticklers for maintenance, even on old buildings they no longer used. You find a corner, behind some hay stacks, and hide there, trying to be as silent as possible. 

If the story those kids told you is true, and it’s certainly looking that way at this point, then Tomura only has Halloween night to roam about. So when morning comes, he’ll have to return to the stake. You look at your phone. It’s not quite ten yet! You don’t know if you’ll be able to evade Tomura until sunrise. 

Sitting here hiding, you finally have a moment to think about what’s happening. Tomura is alive. He’s a scarecrow, but he’s alive! But his body didn’t feel like straw when you bumped into him in the cornfield just now. It felt more solid than that. Almost like a real human body. 

Regardless, he is trying to kill you, and that thought pains you even more than it scares you. Why is he doing this? You’ve always felt a connection to him, an affection for him. Did he hate you all along? Or does he simply kill whoever he sees on Halloween night, no matter who they are? Maybe he doesn’t even recognize you. Maybe he doesn’t even have an actual consciousness, but is just a killing machine. Every possibility seems sadder than the last. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door to the barn swing open. You clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing, and try to sink closer to the ground, to blend in with the darkness and the hay. 

You hear footsteps walking through the barn, stacks of hay being tossed aside. He’s searching for you! This is a bad idea. You need to get out of the barn, try to get to another house, maybe even flag someone down on the road. Before he gets any closer, you jump out of your hiding spot and run toward the back door of the barn. He sees you, of course, and you hear the footsteps running behind you. But you’re close to the door. You can make it! You can disappear into the cornfield again and-

It’s locked. Just as you reach the back door of the barn, you realize it’s locked up with a chain and padlock. You let out a frustrated whine and turn around just as the reef hook swings toward you. Ducking to avoid it, you run to the side, where you find a ladder to the hayloft. You know climbing up there is a terrible idea, that you’ll just be trapped up there, but at the moment, it’s the only path open to you. Maybe you’ll get lucky and be able to push him off the edge. 

So you climb, and you feel a strangely warm hand grab at your bare thigh. That’s definitely not straw! You jerk away, shaking off his grip as you climb further up, finally reaching the hayloft and then backing away from the ladder, watching him climb up after you, his weapon’s handle stuck in the waistband of his jeans. 

Once he’s up here with you, he walks slowly toward you, and when he steps into a beam of moonlight shining in through a small window in the barn, you finally see his face. 

Oh. He’s not a scarecrow at all. Not anymore. Standing before you is a totally alive human man. Young, early twenties you’d guess, with long silver hair that looks almost blue in the moonlight. He’s pale, with a few small but noticeable scars on his face, and striking red eyes that are staring at you as he gets closer. 

He’s beautiful. He’s everything you imagined all those years ago, when you dreamed of him being a “real boy”. 

You back away, almost in a daze, and end up tripping on some hay and falling to the floor. You manage to get to your knees, but by this point he’s reached you, looming over you with his weapon gripped in both hands. You’re a mess at this point. There’s blood all over your tank top, cuts on your hand and your shoulder that are still bleeding, one strap of your top sliced through and hanging low, almost exposing your breast, your shorts ripped. 

You look up at him, knowing there’s no escape, deciding to at least die seeing your precious Tomura alive and real. He lifts the reef hook over his head, still staring down at you, and all you can say is one word. 

“Tomura…”

He falters. The reef hook trembles in his grip. “Why are you here?!” he screams, his voice strained, his face twisting in pain. “Why would you come here, tonight of all nights?! Any other day… any other night… and I would have been so happy to see you…”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, totally confused. 

He growls in frustration, the weapon still shaking in his hands. You get to your feet. The knife from the kitchen is still in your hand. Right now, you could stab him. You’re close enough. But that’s not what you want to do. Instead, you do the one thing you’ve always wanted to do, since you were a little girl. 

You hug him. 

The weapon slips from his hands and lands with a dull thud on the hay strewn floor as you hear him make a faint gasping sound. 

“Please talk to me, Tomura,” you say. “I can finally hear your voice. So please just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s Halloween night!” he yells, his arms dropping to his sides, not touching you. “Don’t you know? It’s the one night a year my body is restored! And I… I can’t control myself… all I can feel is rage and hate and… I just want to kill, to destroy… that’s the only way I can feel alive!”

He stops for a moment, and you can hear him breathing, feel his heart beating in his chest. He truly is alive! 

“Every year, your grandparents leave the farm on Halloween,” he says, his voice a bit calmer now. “I haven’t killed anyone in years, and all this bloodlust I feel has been building and building… and then you show up. You! The one person I never wanted to hurt!”

You look up at him. “You recognize me?” 

“Of course I do! For years you were the only person who talked to me! I knew you the moment you came to see me today in the field, even if you’re grown up now.”

His red eyes seem to sweep down over your figure, and you feel heat in your face. “Wait… does that mean you’re conscious when you’re a scarecrow?”

“Yeah. I’m aware of everything that goes on around me.”

Now you’re really embarrassed. All that time you were talking to him, he really was listening! But you can’t dwell on it for long. He pushes you away from him suddenly. 

“You need to run. Get off the property. Or get inside the main house. I’m not allowed to go inside it.”

You shake your head. “No, Tomura, I don’t want to leave you out here. I dreamed of you being real, being alive, all my life. I want to stay with you!”

His beautiful face looks anguished. “I don’t know how long I can keep myself from attacking you! Every inch of my body is screaming to hurt you, to do anything to feel alive!”

You step closer to him again. You thought you felt something when you hugged him before, but you want to be sure. You press yourself against him, and sure enough, you can feel that he’s hard, his erection straining against his pants. You reach down one hand and lightly rub over it. His breath hitches as his eyes widen. 

“Maybe there’s another way you can feel alive,” you tell him. 

A faint blush spreads over his face. “Is that… something you want?” 

You nod. “Do you want it too?”

Without a word, he suddenly kisses you, finally wrapping his arms around you for the first time as his lips press to yours. You breathe out a sigh against his mouth, content to be held by him. 

Then his hands are moving over you, a bit clumsily, tugging at your tank top, trying to pull it up. You laugh as you pull back from him. “Have you ever done this before? I mean, before you…”

“Before I died?” he asks, looking a little shy. “Yeah, a few times. It’s been about a hundred years though.”

You slip your tank top off and unhook your bra, letting it fall to the floor while he stares with wide eyes. “It’s okay,” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck, “I’m sure it’ll all come back to you.”

He smiles then, his warm hands sliding down your bare back, stopping to squeeze your ass through your shorts. You kiss him again, this time more deeply, your tongue in his mouth, and then your hands fly to the buttons of his flannel shirt, undoing them as quickly as you can. When he lets you pull his shirt off his shoulders, your eyes rake over his toned body appreciatively. In life, he was a farm boy, and it shows. 

His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them both down in one go. You step out of them, then unbutton his jeans. Before you can slide them down his hips, he’s pushing you gently down into the hay, on your back, and climbing on top of you. 

You’d been chilly before, but now your whole body feels hot as his half-clothed body grinds against yours, his mouth warm on your neck. One of his hands is gripping your thigh, pulling it up beside him and making it easier for him to position himself between your legs. 

His mouth moves down from your neck to your chest, his lips enclosing over one nipple, his tongue darting out to flick it. You moan, your hands in his soft hair. When he slides one hand down to stroke the wet, hot flesh between your thighs, your back arches automatically, your body smashing against his. 

You can’t wait any longer. You shove his pants down to his knees, not entirely surprised that he’s not wearing underwear. He was a scarecrow until a few hours ago after all. Even though you know he’s a living breathing human right now, you’re still relieved to see that he has all his parts and they’re in working order. 

He begins kissing you again, and when his hand brushes over your shoulder, it grazes your wound, making you wince. He draws back, looking at the cut. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding hurt, “I was so confused. I wanted to kill you, but at the same time I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. So I held back, and I hesitated.”

“I’m glad you did,” you say, raising up to kiss him again. “You could’ve taken my head off if you hadn’t held back.”

“I could never…” he murmurs, moving himself against you, rubbing his warm body across your form. You open your legs, giving him easy access, closing your eyes with a moan. 

“Tomura… I want you inside me…”

His breathing gets faster, more ragged, as he gets into position, then he gently pushes inside you, slowly filling you up. His mouth finds yours as he slides all the way in, and then begins thrusting into you, carefully at first before picking up speed. When you respond with moans and cries of his name, your arms tight around his neck, he begins thrusting more deeply, more roughly, using your reactions to judge how you want him to move. 

He fucks you so well, his body must have remembered exactly how it was done. He’s good, good enough to make you tremble in his arms, clutching him with all your strength as you cum on his cock. 

You wrap your legs around him just to steady yourself as he fucks you through your orgasm, and he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he cums deeply inside you. 

The next few hours are precious to you, because you know he’ll go back to being a scarecrow when morning comes. You feel like Cinderella enjoying her last few minutes at the ball. 

The two of you sit in the hayloft together, you snuggled up in his flannel shirt, and talk. He tells you about his life before, what really happened to him and his family. His father really had strung him up in the field as punishment, and Tomura really had returned to life one year later and killed his whole family. Aside from his older sister, who had married and moved away from the farm before his death. He seems happy that she was spared, and regretful about killing his mother and grandparents, even though the rage was at its strongest that year. 

He doesn’t know why he comes back to life every year, what sort of magic or curse restores his body and drives him to kill. But the biggest surprise is that your grandparents know about him. 

“They’re nice. I like them,” he says. “They’re a little scared of me, I think. They tend to stay away from me even when it’s not Halloween. But they put new clothes on me when mine get worn out and they even throw a tarp on me when it’s raining real hard.”

The fact that your grandparents take care of a cursed scarecrow makes you smile. But then a thought occurs to you. “Has anyone tried to destroy you?”

He laughs. It’s the first time you’ve heard it but you like the sound of it. “Some have tried over the years,” he says, “but even when someone burned me up in a fire, a few hours later I was back on my stake like nothing happened.”

Happy to know he’s indestructible, you lean your head on his shoulder as the last bit of time you have together slips by. When the sky begins to lighten outside, the two of you walk into the cornfield and to his stake, hand in hand. When you reach it, you pull off his shirt and help him put it back on before he climbs onto the stake and holds his arms up to the wooden frame.

For a moment, you just watch, but then you climb up onto the stake with him and give him one more kiss. “I’ll come back to see you, I promise,” you tell him. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he says back, and then his head droops as rays of sunshine spread across the farm. In an instant, he’s no longer flesh and blood but made of straw. You hug his now thin body before climbing down from the stake. 

****************

It’s Halloween night, one year later, when you park your new car close to your grandparents’ farm house. They’re gone, of course, and despite their misgivings about you being there on Halloween night, they ultimately agreed to let you stay there. 

You’ve been back to the farm several times over this past year just to visit Tomura and talk to him. But today is special. In just a couple of hours, he would come to life and be able to speak to you, touch you, hold you. 

You walk through the field until you reach Tomura. Knowing now that he can hear and see you, a smile spreads over your lips. 

“I’m back, Tomura. I’m really excited about tonight. You are too, right?” you ask, standing at a perfect distance for him to see the cute outfit you wore just for him. You reach down and take hold of the hem of your flowy skirt, then slide the fabric up your thighs, revealing your black lace panties. 

You know it must be your imagination, but you could swear his red stone “eyes” are shining. You laugh and drop your skirt back down. “Just a little preview of what’s waiting for you in the barn tonight,” you say, giving him a sensuous smile before walking back into the field. As you disappear into the corn, you call out, “Happy Halloween, Tomura!”

[rapunzelbro]

Heartbeats in Harmony 1 Velvette x Reader

An: Hi! So this fanfic is something that came to be literally because of a Chappell Roan song. Reader is super based on her too. This fanfic is taking place in the early 2000’s assuming the show takes place farther in the future. And because well. This is my story lol. Reader is 24 and Velvettes 25. This is before they go to hell and will slowly go into that. Anywho enjoy.

Masterlist 1 2

It's everyone's dream to be famous, to have all the attention on you. The money, the fans screaming song lyrics that you wrote at a large venue. But honestly? All you wanted was some peace and quiet. You wanted one day where you didn't have to worry about what to say in an interview or even how you'd keep a personal life. You knew what you signed up for when you started this career, and you'd never mentally adjust. That's why you created that persona.

The person who had the confidence you didn't, who doesn’t care what she wore, what she sang about. She was everything you wanted to be, but couldn't. She had perfectly styled hair, stunning dramatic makeup with the most sparkly outfit you could imagine. The famous one, the person you hid behind to keep yourself from going insane. Well, at least for right now.

Wincing, you hear the obnoxious noise of your alarm that only intensifies with your hangover, you sit up tiredly to turn it off, only to have it drop to the floor to add to your frustration. “Damn it come on” you mutter, standing up trying to locate where your phone is, laying on the floor to try and grab it from under your bed. A groan followed after taking too long to find it, “Darling, I love you, but you need to stop keeping that shit on after we go to the club” the other side of the bed shifted when you finally found it and sat back down. “I know Vel, I just forgot, sorry baby” Rubbing your eyes you look over at her, moving back under the covers with her, gently kissing her forehead. “Forgiven, come here” she muttered, getting closer to you, placing her head on your chest, her tight curls acting as a cushion, you two stayed in silence as she listened to the rhythm of your heart beat. “You have to leave soon, you know my manager is coming by” you finally spoke up “They can fuck off, no relationships allowed is an idiotic rule.” Velvette muttered sitting up after you ruined the moment. “I know, but it’s only to protect you”

Velvette was a close friend. Oh hell, who were you kidding, she was your girlfriend. You have known each other since highschool, she was the only one you honestly kept in contact with after you graduated. She has one hell of a passion for designing, so when you needed someone to help design your persona, you knew she was the one to help. She knew her shit and was excited to help, being the only one to truly support your desire for a music career, and you being the only one to support her dream of being a fashion designer. You two became inseparable ever since.

But the fame came too quickly practically overnight, it was too overwhelming for the both of you to manage alone, in desperate times you signed over to an industry that had reached out first, you didn’t think of the repercussions. You just needed the help, so you blindly took that deal. They got you started with gigs, collaborations, body guards, so much. But doing so, caused you to have to shift your persona to their standards, limit your friends and relationships. She would be everything as she was before, but more… adult. The songs, the music, dancing, her attitude, it wasn't what you wanted, but you had no choice but to adjust to their demands. While it made your career soar, you couldn't help the loneliness that consumed you.

“How much longer of that contract do you even have left now?” Velvette looked at you, an annoyed look on her face as you took her hand. “Two years, then I can find an agency that doesn’t force me to hide my partner.” Rolling your eyes you give her hand a quick squeeze before going to the bathroom to freshen up. “Though after the song I’m performing tonight, they’ll probably drop my ass” You call out, giving a slight chuckle as you come out of the bathroom beginning your makeup. “You’re seriously going to perform that? You might ruin all we worked for babe..” Velvette stands up draping her arms around your shoulders as she watches you apply your makeup, curiosity lingering in her eyes “If they can’t handle it then maybe they haven’t heard any of my music correctly, and the underlying meanings of it.” You respond by shrugging slightly before turning around in your chair gently putting your hands on her face “I want to show you off, not hide you, the damn rumors of me being with you are not exactly clearing up, why not confirm it?” Kissing her you turn back around to finish your makeup.

Velvette gives a slight hum in agreement, before grabbing her stuff from your room. “See you at 6?” she looks at you as she grabs the door handle. “Wouldn’t miss it” you reply smiling looking back at her. “Kisses Darling, good luck tonight” Velvette waves before leaving. Your smile drops as she leaves, giving a frustrated sigh you continue to prepare for your manager to arrive, you couldn’t wait to cause absolute hell tonight.

Taglist @the--rebel--fae @rainbowbunny15 @anxietycomments @bonkbonkbobk @leathesimp

[arsensonfire]

Wedding Bells 🕊️ A Trevor Phillips Fanfic

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡

ﾟ。 𝒘𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒔

　ﾟ･｡･ 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤

🤍 🕊️🖇️ any!reader x fluffy!trev

🤍 🕊️🖇️ no major TW (kinda horny lol)

No one thought they would see the day—-After months of seeing each other and spending time together, Trevor had finally done it. He proposed to you. It was a grueling process (Mikey and Franklin usually having to hear long rants about how badly he wanted to commit and he should finally just pop the question), but when the answer came it was no less than a ‘Fuck Yeah!’

Many days had passed of planning and discussing details—finding exactly what theme and colors you both wanted—It was really exciting going to different stores and watching Trevor try on different suits. You both decided on a pink wedding. There would be no fancy reception or anything like that (Trev had made it clear that it was the D train to pound town right after) but there was a nice venue by the beach that you picked.

It was happening, and the days that followed felt surreal as you clung to your fiance—fiance, it was fun to say and you used it as often as you could. Correcting those that didn't get the news, correcting yourself and when the day of the wedding finally turned up, it was like a dream.

You stumbled back in from your no-longer-not-married party at around 12am and found yourself crashed on the couch of your apartment around noon. Dehydrated but excited, you walked and stretched in your early state of wakefulness and opened to door too your bedroom, expecting to see a sleeping Trevor. Once the door finally opened, The bed laid empty with messy sheets.

Confused and starting to panic, you lightly sprinted back to the couch and fumbled for your phone. After finding it, you dialed Trevor. Getting no answer after calling and calling, you finally rang Michael, who picked up. Having no idea what to think, Michael answered.

“Hey, (Y/N), I, uhhh-... I got some bad news…”

His voice sounded more fearful than dooming. You took a deep sigh as frustration fell on you suddenly. It occurred to you what was going on instantly.

“Did you guys do a fucking Hangover?!” Irritation evident in your voice, Michael started defending himself immediately.

“Of course not! We just got fucked up and now we can't find … oh shit, that is a hangover. Fuck! Yeah we did a Hangover…”

Now pinching the bridge of you're nose, you heard Franklin's voice jump on the line. Reassurance washed over you, as you felt like you were about to hear something reasonable. “Look, (y/n) We’re sorry but we're still looking for him. We guarantee he'll be there by the start of the wedding.”

“Oh, God, I can't believe you guys are doing a Hangover to me- Fine! Okay, just make sure he's all in one piece please. Thank you.” With a click, you signed deeply and started getting ready yourself.

Within the span of four hours, guests and family pulled into their seats. It was small but Wade and Ron were there, even in actual formal attire!

You stood at the altar, looking out past the venue entry way as you grew more anxious than angry. A pair of headlights pulled into view and shut off once parked in the lot nearby. Watching closely, you saw a well dressed Michael and Franklin jumped out to retrieve a battered and bruised Trevor from the back.

Out of excitement and shock, you grabbed the arm of the officiant (Elvis, upon Trevor's request) and let go to rush to your soon-to-be-husbands side. “Trev, baby,” You cooed, getting a closer look at his injuries; minor cuts and littered small bruises but you were concerned no less.

“You look beautiful,” Trevor spoke seductively, pulling you closer by the waist to plant a long and deep kiss on you. The two of his friends both beside him, both looked away awkwardly until you both were done.

Taking you by the hand to lead you away and back to the altar, the rest of the wedding carried on with Elvis doing his best funky interpretation of the Officiant Script. During which, Trevor even shed a few tears.

With about as much if not more partying, he kissed you again, this time firmly squeezing your ass while he did it. You held his face and leaned into it, the small crowd writing in cheers and yelps of happiness.

“Now,” Trevor started, lifting you up in both arms. “Time for a little consummation.” He insisted, walking you both down the aisle again.

𝓯𝓲𝓷.

[daffodildelight]

Enemies (Part One) | Shuntarō Chishiya x Reader

Title: Enemies (Part One) 

Pairing: Shuntarō Chishiya x fem!reader

Summary: You and Chishiya always had a rocky ‘friendship’ if you would even call it that. But feels get revealed under intense pressure

Themes/Warnings: fluff, guns, season 2 spoilers

Word count: 2500sh

A/N: So unedited, will deal with it later. First ever fanfic lol so please be nice, made this in under 3 hours.

You and Chishiya always had a rocky relationship, you had arrived at The Beach after him but slowly made your way up the ranks. Becoming semi-close friends with the Hatter can do that for you. Since you were making your way up the ranks you began getting close with all the high-ranking members, you got along with most of them except for Niragi and Chishiya. Niragi because he saw you as a piece of meat and you would do all your power to get away from him and Chishiya because in you’re eyes he sees you as a weak little girl.

But your relationship with Chishiya started to change leading up to the 10 of hearts games. He would start to act nicer towards you, making sure you had arrived from your game unscathed or even trying to make conversation with you. You had to admit, it was kind of nice. But you also found this rather confusing so you went to the one person who you could get answers from Hikari Kuina.

You found Kuina sitting in the main bar at the beach, wearing her signature blue bathing suit while chewing on her dummy cigarette. ‘’Now look what the cat dragged in, how are you doing (Y/N)’’ she looked genuine when she says this but you can see a little glint in her eye. ‘’I know you and Chishiya have gotten closer in the past few months and I was wondering if I could ask a question?’’ You tried to sound as neutral as possible but Kuina could always see right through you. ‘’Let me guess, it has to do with our mutual friend Chishiya?’’ she smirked, always right on target.

‘’Yeah, why has he been checking up on me lately? It’s getting kind of weird because it’s not in his personality. Is he trying to use my connection with Hatter to get something? I mean it’s the only logical reason’’ Kuina laughed at your comment. ‘’Only logical reason! I’ll tell you this right now but you can’t repeat this to anyone, he totally has the hots for you.’’ Now it’s you bursting into laughter. ‘’Very funny Kuina, tell me the real reason why.’’. Kuina looks stunned ‘’You know I would never lie to you (Y/N)’’. Giving up on your line of question you left with a ‘’yeah whatever.’’

A few days passed, and tensions are rising within The Beach, you can feel it. Ever since Aguni has taken over from the sidelines things are going from bad to worse. Chishiya seems more in his head than usual. You were hanging out in the bar when suddenly the P.A. went off. ‘’We would like to take this opportunity to sincerely thank you for staying at Seaside Paradise, Tokyo…’’ A man with a calming voice spoke on the P.A. Everyone at the bar looked around confused as were you, then the man continues ‘’As a token of our appreciation, we will now commence a game with all 59 participants in the venue…’’ All the TV’s around the room flash with one image which gains everyone's interest. The 10 of Hearts. The Beach is a venue and it’s a 10 of hearts game? You were not looking forward to this. ‘’All participants must assemble in the lobby immediately. The rules of the game will be explained.’’ There was a feeling in your stomach that this game was gonna cause massive problems. So you and everyone else in the bar migrated into the lobby and grabbed one of the many phones on the table to register for the game.

While waiting for all the players to arrive you make eye contact with Chishiya from across the room, none of you pulls away and it was probably the first time you never felt a dislike towards him, instead it was something much different. My focus was pulled away when someone yells ‘’Momoka!’’ and there she was living lifeless on the floor with her orange and white striped bikini knife stabbed into her heart. Being a part of the games you had seen lots of death but watching it be someone who lives in the house as you and has been helping you since you arrived sets a horrible gut feeling within you. A ding rings from the phone in your hands which now gains your attention. ‘’Game, witch hunt. The murderous witch who killed this girl is hiding amongst you in plain sight. The witch role is not limited to women. To clear the game you must find the witch and burn him or her in the fire of judgement. Time limit: 2 hours.’’ Massive roars were held within the lobby and you knew things were gonna go south within seconds. As you were trying to think of a plan to do anything Chishiya carefully grabs you by the arm and walks you away from the group in the lobby without raising any suspicion. He leads you through multiple corridors and rooms before placing you in a wardrobe. ‘’Things are going to turn into shit (Y/N), stay in here and don’t the door open for anyone except me, I’ll get you when this is finished.’’ Chishiya gets up to close the door before you ask: ‘’Why are you doing this? How do you know I’m not the witch?’’.Chishiya looks at you carefully. ‘’Because I need to know that your gonna be safe, and I know your not the witch because your not the type to kill a person (Y/N).’’ He then leaves through the door and you stay in the closet. After around 10 minutes you believe this to be a good idea because you can lot of screaming and multiple gunshots.

After what seems like an hour and a half sitting in a closet listening to screams Chishiya opens the door and pulls you out of the closet. The hallways were full of smoke and dead bodies on the floor. Chishiya takes you to Kuina and you guys make your way to god knows where. ‘’Will someone please tell me what's happening? Who’s the witch? Where’s Hatter and Aguni? Where are we even going?’’ you groaned loudly while walking barefoot into the city. ‘’Everything will be explained to you soonly (Y/N)’’.

You make your way through some ground tunnels until you reach a room with loads of dead bodies and computer scenes. Then you finally explode. ‘’What the fuck is happening!? Someone explain everything to me now! I'm so confused… where are we? Where’s hatter?” Chishiya sits me down and gives it to me straight, how hatter died a few days ago and thats why aguni took over. How Asahi told everyone she was the dealer of the game, and why Momoka killed herself because she was the witch. It was very hard to listen but Chishiya sits next to me and comforts me the best way he knows how. By stroking my hair, it was really nice minus the horrible things he was telling but all that stopped when we heard footsteps coming towards the computer scenes.  Arisu and Usagi walk through the darkness and Chishiya make us known to them. “So you actually found this place. I expected no less from you. Thanks to you two, I have all the numbered playing cards right here. Thank you.’’ Chishiya looks as smug as ever, you can’t help but feel a little bit more attracted to him.

Conversations were exchanged between the four of them, trying to figure out how each person got to the same place, and what even was this place. You tune yourself out of the conversation and decided to turn and sort out your conflicted feelings. Why did Chishiya save you? You don’t have anything to bring to the table, maybe a few hand-to-hand combat skills but that’s it. Why are you even having feelings for Chishiya? This was starting to get very annoying for you but your train of thought cuts out when all the screens turn on and you see Mira walk into the shot. Everyone exchanged confused glances. She goes on to explain how there are going to be new games and these games will be the ‘face’ card games. But it left all of us wondering, when will we ever get back home?

We all make our way into the centre of Tokyo trying to think about the new information Mira has given us. We look out into the streets of Tokyo and see multiple huge blimps with different kinds of face cards on them. One huge billboard with ‘Next Stage: Start’’ written on it. ‘’None of the games has started yet’’ spoke Arisu standing in the middle of the group looking so tired. ‘’Maybe we still have time’’ Usagi spoke next trying to reassure Arisu. ‘’Or they forgot to push the big red start button’’ Chishiya replied, Arisu and Usagi turned around and gave Chishiya a look, and I couldn’t help but give a chuckle. I noticed Chishiya smirk a little. ‘’They didn’t tell us about the rules for this one.’’ Signs Kuina. Everyone in the group continues to look around confused. Usagi looks like she notices something. ‘’What is it?’’ I ask with Chishiya to my right. ‘’I hear something’’ Usagi replies and looks towards the street. We all turn and watch the street with her. Multiple cars approach us, and I recognise them as Beach people. They all hop out of their cars and Arisu goes to investigate. ‘’What is this? What are you doing here?’’ He asks one of the members. The members of The Beach go on to say ‘’We saw the blimps show up, there are rumours that the next stage is starting’’. Arisu getting a little frustrated says ‘’Right… here's the thing’’ Suddenly the members of The Beach are getting shot down.

‘’A riffle, get moving,’’ Chishiya says in a weirdly calm way when people around him are dying. ‘’That thing is an anti-tank rifle. So I’d forget about hiding behind a car.’’ He tells the group. I decided to take initiative for Chishiya at this moment, I grab his arm and we follow Arisu towards some buildings. Chishiya runs ahead of me and covers me with the rifle. When the group meets behind the building Kuina asks ‘’Does this means the game started?’’ Chishiya quickly replies ‘’I don’t know’’. Kuina continues ‘’Did they give us any rules?’’ We slowly make our way around the building. ‘’Without rules this is just a massacre’’ Shouts Arisu. ‘’That rifle can kill from about a kilometre away,’’ Chishiya tells the group, he goes from covering me to holding my waist if not for the adrenaline I would assume my bodies reacting like this because of him. Different sounds now come from the gun. ‘’And now we’ve got an assault rifle.’’ Chishiya continues. We all huddle as a group and give comments about things we are witnessing and ideas on what could be happening. ‘’Maybe there are different shooters’’ Usagi speaks up, ‘’Other players are grouping up, I didn’t know there were this many players left’’ Kuina adds. ‘’There almost here!’’ Arisu shouts and backs away from the mysterious shooter. ‘’Let's go!’’ Arisu yells while taking the group back into the street. ‘’I don’t think this is a good idea Arisu!’’ I yell in hopes he can hear me but the blast from the rifle is too much. ‘’We need to split up’’ Chishiya yells and grabs me by the hand and pulls me from the group.

Chishiya and I start sprinting down the street, hands holding each other while bodies fall all around us. I trip on a rock and Chishiya is there to scoop me up from the ground and we continue running. Hands still interlocked tugging each other towards different directions. I see Kuina from a distance and drag Chishiya with me to catch up with her. Kuina looked grateful that somebody else was with her and the 3 of us crouched behind a car. Kuina looks down and see’s Chishiya and I’s hands interlocked. She gives me a knowing look and I turn around to focus on more important things like Arisu and Usagi running along the opposite side of the road trying to help somebody. I make eye contact with Arisu: ‘’Are you trying to get killed out there!’’ with that comment the gunman takes fire in our direction. I hide back behind the car. My back is up against Chishiya's torso and I can feel his breath on my neck. Kuina speaks up ‘’Where are they shooting from anyway?’’ we then hear a loud rumbling from above us and see the huge blimp with a kind of spade flag hanging below it. ‘’Huh, he must be the king of spades’’ Chishiya tells us he then turns to me. ‘’Take this it’s a good luck charm’’ He gives me a handmade explosive. ‘’Thank you Chishiya, I don’t know what to say’’ I can’t believe Chishiya would give up an explosive for me. ‘’Just use it if you have to.’’ and he gives me a smile. I turn to look away feeling a bit flustered but then I notice a man dressed in a long dark black cloak. I point towards him and direct Chishiya and Kuina towards what I’m looking at. ‘’That must be the king of spades’’ I whisper lightly. Chishiya whispers back into my ear ‘’I think your right’’ I turn around to say something but got caught looking into his eyes. My concentration on his eyes disappears when Kuina spots Arisu, Usagi and some random dead guy in the car next to us. ‘’Hey! You two okay? You hurt?’’ Kuina pipes up, and Chishiya gives them a wave. Shots continue to fire as we hide behind the car. ‘’We’re pinned down here’’ I say loud enough for us to hear. ‘’If we step out, he’ll get us!’’ Usagi replies. All of us try to figure out a plan to get out of there but nothing seems to be working out and the king of spades is getting closer. My train of thought gets broken when I green car that I’ve noticed from the beach before pulls in front of us honking its horn. ‘’Get in!’’ yells Tatta from the passenger seat. ‘’Tatta!?’’ Arisu and I yell in surprise and relief. ‘’Don’t just stand there!’’ someone yells from the driver's seat. ‘’Ann!’’ Kuina yells. Usagi and Arisu are the first to make their way to the car followed by Kuina, me and Chishiya. Ann opens the passenger seat and Arisu, Usagi and Kuina make it safely. Different story for Chishiya and me. A grenade is thrown towards the car door and Chishiya stops me from walking on it. ‘’That’s bad. Get going!’’ He yells towards Ann.

In a split-second decision, I decided to kick the grenade towards the kings of spades will Chishiya grabs my hand and tugged me the other way. ‘’(Y/N)! Chishiya!’’ I hear Kuina yell from the car. Chishiya pulls me behind a car and uses his body to shield me from the blast. At that moment I’m glad that I was stuck with Chishiya because I know that if I had to pick anyone out of the group to survive with it would be him and unfortunately for us, we won’t be seeing the group in a while.

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 10

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: strong angst, swearing, hospital, car accident

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3

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“Moony, have you eaten yet?” Her dark head pokes around the corner, framed by the untidy soft curls that he’d always longed to push back from her face. “It’s nearly three.”

He rests his burning eyes on his hands, groaning. “It is?”

She perches on the edge of his desk and leans forward to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “Yes, it is. Did you have lunch?”

Remus grimaces. “Forgot.”

Amberly sighs. “You need to eat, love.”

Her hands find their familiar spot in his hair and he pulls her into him by the waist, savoring the smell of lavender that’s imbued in her clothes and skin. “Thanks for checking on me.”

She nuzzles into his shoulder. “Of course.”

She was so warm. She’d always been warm, everything from those chocolate-colored eyes to her pale, gentle hands that had always been able to soothe his scars and wounds and fears. Her smile melted him like spring sunlight on stubborn snow.

Amberly stroked the back of his head. “It’s okay, Moony.”

He chucked a piece of crumpled paper across the room, fists clenched. “I should have gotten better than that”-

“You did the best you could, right? It’s not like you didn’t try.” Her big brown eyes are wide with concern.

“It wasn’t enough,” he spits, chest heaving. “I wasn’t enough.”

Amberly touches his shoulder and he collapses next to her on the bed, burying his face in the pillow. “You’re always enough, Remus. No matter what.”

A sob shakes his shoulders and he clings to her, tears soaking her jumper, as her fingers card through his hair. 

Icy tears are soaking Remus’ ears and pillow.

He’s been staring at the same blue-washed ceiling for hours now, unable to move or sleep or think anything other than the same four words that have been repeating mindlessly in his brain all day.

It’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault.

If Amberly were here right now, she’d use her thumb to wipe his tears away and kiss the spots where they had been. She’d snuggle right up next to him and rest her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. He’d wake during the night to find her in the exact same position, clinging to him with her soft curls draped over her face. 

Once, Sirius had joked that sleeping with Amberly when she stayed the night must be like sleeping with a very large and very affectionate Venus flytrap. Remus had laughed as warmth flooded his bones and Amberly blushed next to him.

Now he doesn’t think she’ll ever look at him, much less hug him, again.

If she’s even here at all-

The thought hits him like a punch in the gut and he doubles up as a raw sob rends his chest in half. 

No more holding hands on the way to the bakery in the mornings. No more sleepy cuddles on the battered living room couch. No more back and neck rubs by the light of the fireplace in the evening. No more random animal and math facts exchanged over lunch, or cheesy cat memes sent over text at all hours of the day. 

All of that would be gone.

The added thought of and it’s all my fault wraps iron fingers of guilt around Remus’ ribs and squeezes. He buries his face in his hands as tears pour down his face, more tears than he believed possible after all the crying he’s been doing.

You did this to her. You pushed her away. Over and over again, after all she tried to do was help. You were a complete and utter prick to the one person who loved you more than she loved herself. 

Merlin, she’d do anything for me. Did do anything for me. Countless visions of keeping her waiting, of her making him his favorite food even when she was tired, of those brown eyes being exhausted and drained because of him. But always, always so warm and full of love and that he felt like he was coming home every time he saw her face.

Until now. 

Remus chokes back another sob.

The hospital gave him a room on the first floor, down the hall from Amberly. Apparently it was the “least they could do” after the state he’d been in when he saw her. He’d collapsed to his knees on the floor as the sheer force of what he’d done hit him. Sirius- who’d still been very close to punching his face in- had had to drag him out as the doctor watched impassively. 

Down the hall.

She’s just down the hall. 

His feet are on the ground before he knows it and he’s padding noiselessly down the white, blue-lit corridor. An eerie silence permeates everything. The narrow windows in front of the doors are dark and silent. No one is awake at two forty-three a.m.

Her room.

Her door.

Her bed.

Her-

Remus feels fresh tears pour down his face and he sinks onto the chair at the side of the bed. 

She’s still, so still. Her face is paler than ever against the sterile white of the hospital sheets. Her eyes are deeply shadowed, and she’s breathing so faintly that the blue quilt is hardly moving. Her hair is spread across the pillow like it’s melting into the night, barely discernible in the dimness of the room.

He takes her hand. He can’t remember the last time they held hands, not the way they’d used to. Fingers interlocked, warm and sure, the one single guarantee out of everything in this life that he’d loved and loved and loved.

Amberly stirs. 

His lips part as he turns towards her, shocked; her eyes flutter open and fix on him.

He can’t tell what she’s thinking. He can’t read her expression at all, and as he opens his mouth to croak out a I’msosorryIloveyoupleasedon’tleavemepleasepleaseplease-

“You’re not Remus.”

Her voice is soft, almost disappointed. There’s an odd note of resignation in it that strikes Remus to the core. 

He clears his throat and tries to keep the tears out of his eyes. “It’s me.”

“No,” she murmurs, shifting slightly in the bed. Her cast rustles against the covers. “He wouldn’t have come.” Her eyes close again.

Remus’ throat closes up at the note of assurance in her voice. “Wh- what do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Amberly mumbles. “Busy. He’s too busy.”

“Busy with what?”

“Stuff,” she breathes. “I think I should leave him alone. He doesn’t like when I help.” A tiny bit more alertness returns to her eyes and she gazes at him in the dark. “It’s my fault.”

“No,” Remus manages to choke out. “It’s not.”

Her eyes are luminous in the dark. “It is. It’s why I have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop”- Her voice is getting breathy and quiet as she sinks back down into sleep. “Stop caring.”

Then she’s asleep again and tears pour down Remus’ face as her hands goes limp and slowly, slowly slides away from his. 

[issuesdolly]

Jonathan Davis Livens Up a Boring Night With a FREAKY Game

Warning: explicit/sensitive content, deviant theme, 18+ Smut. Male/female sex (romantic boyfriend/girlfriend theme) foreplay, fingering, oral sex, cunnilingus, handjob, blowjob,unprotected sex, p in v, finishing inside, praise & degradation, edging/denial, fear kink, adrenaline kink, BDSM.. Overall, A LOT IS GOING ON IN THIS STORY AGAIN 🤣💀

#jonathandavis  #jonathan davis #korn #jon davis #fanfic #jondavis #fanfiction #smut #fem reader #x reader #bdsmplay #bdsmkink #edging kink #praise and degredation #edging #degredation kink #degredation #edging #edginganddenial #fear kink #bdsmkink #adrenalinekink #female reader

Summary: You are Jonathan's girlfriend. The two of you are stuck at home back in the 2020 Pandemic Lockdown era when the “stay at home” guidelines were most stringent. Like many couples, what started as pleasant togetherness has become mundane and depressing. Combined with the traumatic news regarding the health emergency, you and Jonathan get a bit unhinged one evening. After another horrible day, you decide you have to do SOMETHING different, fun and freaky/kinky to lighten the mood. The two of you gradually admit your mutual kinks and decide to play a back and forth sex game. A VERY kinky hide and seek where you take TURNS hunting each other and doing something freaky/deviant to one another each time you find one another.

Preface: My other JD fanfics are more "normal" if you wanna check those. This one's not for everybody. In real life, JD talks about various kinks/deviancies in interviews. His Penthouse interview, JD said “I’m the kinkiest motherfucker you’ll ever meet. I do freaky, weird shit” and he provided some BDSM examples. His Playboy interview, he talks a bit about morbid/fear kink games and degredation/control games he's played with women who wanted that with him.

Korn songs like "My Gift to You," "Last Legal Drug" (Le Petit Mort) and "Beat it Upright" and "Inside out" where JD is telling his girl to "take the punishment" inspired this fanfic. The lyrics suggest he likes to give AND take some sexy degradation/control/ fear play during sex. So unlike my last deviant smut, "Jonathan Davis Plays Kinky Hide and Seek With You," -- Y/N degrades Jonathan a bit as well. The two take turns in an increasingly aggressive/heated sex game. In this fic, the boring night drives Y/N to BEG for a kinky game with him... and... it just keeps escalating. 🤣

Anyhoo. Hope you enjoy. No surprise... it's um.. lengthy and (again) borrows from my past "adventures," and kinks. Sorry y'all.

Story: 

You and Jonathan were about two months into the COVID lockdown restrictions in early 2020. At this point, people are still urged to isolate themselves at home and only go out for essential errands. Many venues/stores were closed. Many tourist spots you and Jon had planned to escape to were closed. Opening your phone or turning on the TV was an ENDLESS stream of horrifying news. Jonathan's tour with Korn had been postponed due to the pandemic. The two of you were initially grateful to at least have each other during this ordeal. Spending time together without his work obligations gave you two a chance to catch up in EVERY regard, sexual and non-sexual. 

However, as with many couples, the isolation was driving you two crazy. You drifted apart. Jonathan was gaming a lot. You were reviving old hobbies like arts and crafts. The two of you would go to separate rooms a lot, since there’s such a thing as “TOO much quality time.” 

One evening, Jonathan was gaming in his pajamas on the sofa. You had been sketching for hours. You felt lonely and depressed thinking about everything going on in the world. Jonathan loves gaming but often games compulsively when depressed. He'd been on the console in his pajamas most of the day. You felt like something had to change. You went into the living room, also dressed in your "less sexy" pajamas. Things had gotten DAMNED casual at home. Suddenly, you two felt like an old married couple who'd just quit trying. 

You plopped on the couch next to Jon, immersed in the game, not even greeting you. You broke the silence: 

"Jon.... I'm not feeling good tonight," you admitted. 

Jon took a moment to respond as he was so lost in the game. Eventually he processed what you just said. 

"What do you mean? .... DO YOU THINK YOU MIGHT BE GETTING SICK?" he said, pausing the game and turning to you. Obviously COVID was the first thing on EVERYONE’S mind. The dark, intrusive reality. 

"No! No, I'm fine. I'm just.... REALLY upset, Jon. It feels like we've passed away and our ghosts are living here, ya know?”

Jon slumped his head down, looking at the ground. 

“I know…” he admitted in a soft, resigned voice. 

“I LOVE you. But, we are stuck here ALL THE TIME... to the point we’ve been avoiding each other! It's a shitty feeling!" you confessed. 

Jonathan pressed his hands against his temples and mumbled, silently nodding his head in agreement. He looked really depressed/stressed. There was tense silence between the two of you for a moment. He slumped his head against the couch with a resigned expression. Glancing back at you, he saw just how upset you were. Jon slowly put the controller on the table and faced you, pulling you into him for a hug. You gladly accepted and pressed your face against his shoulder, holding him tight. 

"I know.... I'm sorry,” Jon said in a soft, reassuring voice. 

“This whole thing has just fucked with my head so much. Fucked up every aspect of my life. This shit took away the things that kept me going. I feel LOST right now," Jon admitted. 

"I feel the same way. LOST. But I'm glad you're here. I don't want to be alone right now! I know you need space and stuff... but right now....I just need to be with you!" you admitted in return, holding him tighter. 

Jon held you and gave you a kiss on the forehead before letting you rest your head on his chest and get comfortable against his body on the couch. The two of you sat silently for a while, reflecting on the grim situation. You really didn't know how to feel better. Neither of you drank or took drugs anymore. Sex was your "last legal drug." You ALWAYS had a very fiery sexual relationship but even THAT was fizzling a bit from isolation and the emotional impact of the pandemic. You decided you should bring it up. 

"I really wish I could feel better tonight," you started. 

"Yep, wish we could turn the night around somehow," Jon replied. 

You tried to make your move. You slowly turned and planted a kiss on his neck. 

"We could.... try to feel better in..... one way?" you suggested. 

Jon didn’t respond. He was pretty much catatonic. There was too much on his mind.... plus he also felt kind of disheveled and less appealing. He was unkempt, depressed and had sat in his sleep clothes all day. 

"Baby, I really don't want you to think this is YOUR fault... but.... I......" (you cut him off)-

"I know. OK? Even FUCKING is starting to feel like ‘been there done that," you admitted. Jonathan froze. He was surprised you were so blunt, but he was glad he didn't have to say it. He replied: 

"PLEASE don't get me wrong. You ALWAYS feel amazing. I ALWAYS love being with you. There's just so much going on! Everything feels like a warped nightmare lately," Jon admitted. 

"I know what you mean...But… I feel like we HAVE TO do something to get away from it! Just for a bit!” you continued… desperately trying to search your mind. 

There was a long silence as the two of you held each other on the couch. Eventually you got bold.

 "Jon? .... you may not be in the MOOD for this, but what if I let you try a freaky game on me again? Like that time on our RV trip? … on the beach… near that forest?" you asked, in a naughty voice.  

Jonathan’s demeanor slowly changed. His breath caught in his throat…,then he chuckled. "Ummm, how could I FORGET. I broke you in HARD on that one," he said, finally cracking a big smile. 

"SO.... let's do something like that again," you suggested. 

Jonathan sat still and contemplated, a smile slowly coming and going from his face. Memories of your last “freaky time” flashed in his mind. He had NOT been in the mood…. but the idea had aroused his interest a bit. 

"Ummm.... I mean, so- you want me to .... what? Freak you the fuck out again? Cuz uhmm.. we're at home this time. You can't be like.. screaming without the neighbors, uh... calling 911, ya know?" Jon taunted, while chuckling. 

"I know!!" you said, cracking a smile and laughing as well. 

"BUT maybe we could try a .... similar freaky game? Try my best to stay quiet?” you begged in a teasing voice. 

Jonathan’s smile broadened, shaking his head and LIKING the way you think. 

"Hmm... alright. Fuckit. I'm down, baby," he said, turning to face you and give you a big kiss. The two of you shared a nice long kiss. It had been the first longer kiss in a few days, and you both thoroughly enjoyed it. 

As he let you out of the kiss, he asked, "So what kinda freaky shit do you want me to do to you THIS time?" 

You honestly had no idea. "Jon, I have no fucking clue haha. You're the master of kinky games. Just teach me something!" 

Jonathan leaned back on the couch with his legs splayed, looking at you and reflecting/contemplating. 

"Hmmm....so, you just... want me to do something to YOU? Fuck you up?" he inquired, smirking. 

You thought hard for a second. "Umm... actually... NO! YEAH I want you fuck me up a bit, BUT I wanna do things to you BACK! Like... maybe we ... take turns? You do something freaky to me... I do something freaky to you?" you suggested. 

Jonathan's smile grew even wider and his eyes brightened. While he enjoyed being the dominant one during "games," he LOVED the fact you were interested in "getting him back" and taking control of him. He hadn't brought it up to you much, but he had WANTED you to get aggressive with him more often. 

"I like that. I like that idea a lot," Jon said in a soft, quiet voice. He stared at you, giving you a wicked grin. 

"I'd totally let you fuck me up, baby," Jon admitted in a sexy voice, nodding his head. 

He sat thinking for a moment. Your heart was pounding, wondering what ideas he'd have now that he knew what you wanted. 

"How about.. hide and seek here in the house. But way the fuck different this time?" Jon said while shifting his legs around and playing with his hair. 

"Different how?" you asked, genuinely excited. 

"Like... we take TURNS hunting each other. I look for you. Then you look for me. Each time we find each other, we each have two minutes to do ANYTHING we want to one another. How's that sound?" Jon asked in a soft voice, looking at you with a dirty smile. 

"HA! Um.. ANYTHING?" you asked, dumbfounded. 

"YEAH. Anything. DON'T just do something normal. Do something aggressive and freaky. We fuck each other up! For TWO MINUTES only," Jon said as he grabbed his phone off the table and set a two minute stopwatch timer on it. 

Your eyes flared, thoroughly enjoying the sound of this. You smiled and nodded in agreement. 

"And we have to stop when the two minute alarm on the phone goes off,” Jon explained as he reached for his phone and set a 2 minute time. 

“Then the other one has to hide. Mkay?" Jon asked. 

"Damn Jon! I mean... you are WAY better at thinking of freaky stuff to do to ME," you admitted. Jon grinned and nodded his head, remembering all the things he’s done to you. 

"I don’t know WHAT to do to YOU!" you admitted. 

Jonathan's smile widened. "Well.... just be aggressive. Be weird. I've given you ideas once or twice. AND... I have to do what you say," he said with a naughty smile. 

"Just ... be creative.. And don't worry, I don't break easy, baby," Jon said in a low, sexy voice. 

Your pussy was waking up a LOT. You REALLY liked the sound of this game. 

"Ok, I'll try," you said, giving him a naughty smile/nod. 

"Ok! Let's fuckin do it. Let's...... try to search for each other--- um-- ... at LEAST 4 times before saying game over. Kay?" Jon said while getting up and dimming the lights around the living/dining room. 

"Ok!" you replied. 

You ran to the home office and art studio and turned off the lights there as well. The two of you plopped back on the couch together. The dim lighting definitely made the vibe of the game more appealing. The two of you momentarily stared at each other, exchanging naughty smiles in the warm, low light. Impulsively, you both went in for a big, passionate kiss and started making out. You and Jon got surprisingly lost in the moment, opening your mouths and kissing harder. Jon started squeezing your breasts and feeling you up. You moaned into his mouth and almost pounced on him. Jon reluctantly pulled away from the kiss and cleared his throat, smiling and letting out a giddy, frustrated laugh. 

"OK ... we gotta... ahem... we gotta fuckin, FOCUS!" Jon said, laughing. 

"Ok, yes. Let's start," you agreed, laughing also. 

"Let's keep the search to just downstairs, ok? We'll just take turns hiding SOMEWHERE down here," Jon said. He sounded like an excited kid. You couldn’t help but smile wider. Things had been so depressing. This was DEFINITELY more of the Jonathan you were familiar with. Lighthearted, FILTHY minded...and sweet. 

"Alright. I wanna hide first!" you admitted, giddy with excitement/arousal. 

"Fair enough," Jon said with a wicked smile. "I'll give you 60 seconds," Jon said, sitting back on the couch and shutting his eyes. He started counting. 

You decided to run into the home office and hide under the desk. Not a very good hiding place but you were eager to be found. Jonathan finished counting and began walking around the house. You heard him crack a chuckle as he slowly searched the rooms. As he entered the home office, you heard his footsteps getting closer to your hiding place. There was silence, then you saw his long hair drape over the desk to looking up to see his face peering down at you. He cracked up. You started laughing as well. 

"You just WANT to be found, HUH?" Jonathan teased. 

"YES," you admitted with a smile. 

"Hmm… be careful what you wish for,” Jon said, cracking a dark grin and setting the phone timing. 

“Here we go, mkay?” Jon said playfully, hitting the ‘start’ button. 

"Mmm-hmm...." you replied as your heartbeat picked up. 

You heard the phone ding as the timer started. Jonathan walked up next to you as you were still crouched under the desk. 

"GET your ass out here!" he ordered in a deep/sexy, dominating voice. 

You happily crawled out and stood up. 

He took slow, ominous steps closer to you until your fronts were pressing together. 

"Now….RUN away from me!" Jon commanded. You were surprised, but did as he said. 

Without hesitation, you started to run off. Before you knew what hit you, Jon grabbed you HARD around the waist, firmly tackling you to the floor. 

You let out a scream but also laughed. He flopped to the floor with you, pulling you both down and pinning you with his weight. The two of you giggled as he groped you on the ground, holding you down. He crawled atop you and gripped your hair. You went limp under him, enjoying the moment. Then, Jon gave you a new command: 

"Try to get up!" he commanded.  

"WHAT?" you replied, giggling. 

"TRY to get away from me, I wanna see you try!!" Jon demanded in a sly voice. 

You were enjoying this grope-session…but the rule was "do as he says." 

You began wriggling around and trying to push him off you. You were only doing so playfully though. 

"Awww c'mon! That's BULLSHIT, baby!!!" Jonathan teased before pressing his face against your ear and firmly biting your earlobe. 

"Really FUCKIN try!" Jon demanded. 

You decided to REALLY give it your best shot. You shoved your hands hard against his chest and tried to push your way out from under him. He pushed you down harder. You wriggled your legs around and brought your knees up against him, trying to shove/kick him off. Jon momentarily lost his balance. You pushed him off you and rolled over onto your stomach. As you brought your knees up and started to crawl away, Jon firmly grabbed your hips/ass from behind. Knocking you back down on the ground, Jon pinned you on your belly while pushing himself on top of you. 

You both moaned/giggled and breathed heavily at this ridiculous, heated, wrestling match. Jon flipped you back over to face him, pinning your hands above your head. He pressed against you, grinding his crotch all over you.

 “KEEP FUCKING TRYING, GIRL!” Jon teased. 

Again, you used your legs to push against his lower body and make him lose his balance. It briefly worked and he fell backwards off of you. You started to get up but he grabbed you by the ankle. You squealed as he reached up, grabbed you around the hips and pulled you back against him on the ground, bracing your fall with his body. Jon held you tight against his body and pressed hard up against your backside, bringing one of his legs over your hip to trap you. You were both starting to thoroughly enjoy it when the two minute timer went off. Jon groaned and reluctantly let go of the tight grip he had on

"PFFT, I shoulda said FIVE minutes each time we catch each other!" Jon said, smirking and adjusting his erection through his pajama pants. Catching your breath on the ground/laughing, your pussy had begun dripping quite a bit. The two of you were both sweating a bit. Jonathan helped you to your feet as you exchanged flustered/aroused glances. 

Breathing heavily, Jon handed you the phone and prepared the two minute timer for you. "Okay babe. YOUR turn. And remember. Do something freaky!!! Be rough. I can take it," Jon said, giving you his naughtiest eyes. You smiled and nodded, wishing you could just cut to the part where you FIND him. Although, you still had NO IDEA what you were going to do to him when you DID. 

Reluctantly, you shut your eyes and started counting to 60 as you heard Jon crack a naughty chuckle and dart out of the room. After you finished counting you quickly worked your way through the house. Being a big, tall man, his hiding places were pretty limited. You moved through the kitchen and living room. Nothing. You had a feeling he was probably in the bathroom. You walked in, peeled back the shower curtain.... nothing. Then out of the corner of your eye you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror, hiding behind the door. 

"PFT you really wanna be found TOO, huh?" you teased. 

Jon let out a giddy laugh and slowly stepped out from behind the door. 

Nervously, you stood next to him, placing the phone on the counter and starting the two minute timer. YOU STILL had no clue what you were going to do to him. He stood still, hands limp at his sides, smiling and waiting to see what you'd do. All you could THINK to do was aggressively feel him up. So you pushed him hard against the bathroom wall and firmly yanked at his dreads.  He quietly chuckled while you ripped at his shirt and leaned up tall to give him a gentle bite on the neck while groping/pulling his hair. You thought you were being "aggressive" enough but Jon continued to laugh at you. You gave him a firm smack on the shoulder and pulled away from him. 

"WHAT??? That's not ENOUGH?" you asked, annoyed and flustered. 

Jon chuckled and stroked his beard while looking at you with sly eyes. 

"Um... that's ok baby…. ha, you're TRYING. That's what counts," Jon taunted while giggling. You felt flustered, annoyed AND turned on. He really wanted you to fuck him up! But... HOW? Without thinking, you gave him the world's gentlest smack across the face. 

"PFFfaaa..... ohhh!!.. OH NO!!!" Jon said, sarcastically, while making a fake “fear” gesture with his hands and laughing harder. 

You were getting SO flustered. It was like he was TRYING to annoy you and get you to do something really fucked up. 

"Gahhhh...you're adorable," Jon said, teasing you more. 

Suddenly you looked over at the sink and the drinking glass next to it. You had an idea. You grabbed the cup and quickly filled it with ice cold water. 

"Haa!!... game got you too heated? Need a drink?" Jon taunted while laughing at you. 

Before he knew what was coming, you turned around and chucked the ice cold water hard at his face. 

It caught him so off guard he stopped laughing and was briefly stunned. 

Cold water flew everywhere and splashed back off his face and hair. 

You froze... waiting for a reaction... horrified you'd gone too far. 

Jon paused, choking/spitting out a bit of water that had made it into his mouth. 

"Puhhhh!!... hmm.... NO. I didn't see THAT coming," Jon admitted, before cracking a wicked grin at you. Your jaw dropped and you smiled. He LIKED it. It was hilarious. You quickly realized he WANTED you to degrade him a little. Do something fucking WEIRD. You stole a glance at the phone timer. One minute left. QUICKLY you turned around and filled the glass up with ice cold water again. 

"Mmmmm.. I see how it's gonna be," Jon said in a low.. playful voice. 

You turned back around, shoving him back against the wall with a loud thud. You locked eyes with him and smirked before standing up as tall as you could, slowly pouring more ice cold water over the top of his head. 

"UGHhh-nnn... FUCKEN—..OWW!" Jon complained as ice water dripped down his head and went down his back and chest. You poured it nice and slow. You looked at the phone timer. 30 seconds. Jon grunted.. 

"Guh-UGHhmmm... I'm gonna fucken GET you for this.." he warned. You were more than a LITTLE nervous now. Obviously you'd taken the game to the next level. STILL, you filled up the cup with ice water one more time. He stood patiently against the wall, waiting to see what you’d do. Jon still had a smile on his face but a WICKED look in his eyes, obviously thinking about how he’d get his revenge. 

You looked down at his pajama pants and thought for a second... but decided "FUCK IT." Slowly you pushed a hand into the front of his pajama pants, pulling them back to reveal just his boxers. 

"Ohhh.... you wouldn't do THAT," Jon taunted while grinning. He knew what you were thinking of doing. 

You locked eyes with him, and slowly poured some ice water down his pants. He winced and gasped, trying to stop himself from pushing you away. You had to laugh at the ridiculousness of this. The look on his face shifted from wincing to a look of ENJOYMENT. He LIKED the shocking sensation of cold against a VERY sensitive part of his body. 

"Fuuu… OOOWWWW!!! Ughhhh- I'm gonna get you SO BAD!" Jon threatened through gritted teeth, eyes winced shut, STILL smiling. 

Your hands were ice cold from holding the cold glass. With the time you had left, you reached right down his pajama pants, into his boxers. He growled at you as you gripped his dick with your cold hand and briefly jerked him. “SHIIIIIITTTTTTT!!!! Naughty fucken bitch!” Jon yelled while throwing his head back, gripping his hair. The phone timer went off. You gently let go of his dick, stepping back and setting the water glass back on the counter. 

Jon growled at you as he chuckled and he wiped water off himself. 

"Fuck. YOU!! " Jon said playfully while laughing and grabbing the phone. "You better hide GOOD!!" Jon warned. He immediately shut his eyes and began to count. You ran away.  

Looking around for a BETTER hiding place, you realized there were not many. You stole a glance at the kitchen island and decided your best option might be one of those pantries. You wedged yourself inside one and quietly shut the pantry door. After Jonathan finished counting, you heard him looking around. He was pacing quickly, QUITE eager to find you and get you back. You heard him search the living room and office and then chuckle as he figured you MUST be in the kitchen. As you mentally prepared yourself to be found, you heard him open the fridge. “What is he doing that for?” you wondered. He did something at the fridge and then took slow steps around the kitchen, opening different pantry doors. You knew it was only a matter of time now and your heart started pounding. OF COURSE you were excited but also rather nervous about how he was going to “get you back.” 

He threw open the pantry door you were in and let out an evil chuckle as you looked up at him. Before you could climb out, he reached in and firmly yanked you out. He stood you up, gripped you in his arms, facing you away from him and squeezing your tits from behind. “I’m gonna fuck you up right on this floor, girl” he warned. He tugged your body in such a way that you immediately lost your balance. Knocking you off your feet, he gently but firmly brought the two of you down to the ground. He sat behind you, still gripping you tightly around the chest, as he set the phone timer. 

As soon as the timer began, you saw him reach for a cup on the counter, bringing it down next to you two on the kitchen floor. What was it? A cup of ice! Before you knew what was happening, Jon pushed your body down on the kitchen floor, laying you flat. He climbed atop your lower body, spreading his legs and straddling you on the ground. Yanking your sleep shirt up and exposing your breasts, he grabbed an ice cube from the glass and put it in his mouth, biting it so it stuck half out. He gripped your hands hard and forcefully pinned them above your head. Smiling through gritted teeth, ice cube in his mouth, he slowly nestled his face against your breast, pressing the ice cube onto your nipple. “AHHHhH!!!!” you yelped as shock waves and cold tingles traveled through your breast and down your spine. 

Jon laughed through his grit teeth while the ice cube hung from his mouth. He teased your breast with the ice, swirling it in slow circles around your nipples. You fought the urge to wriggle against him and escape. It WAS cold and uncomfortable but ALSO felt GOOD somehow. The cold sensation against your nipples combined with how seductively Jonathan was moving the cube around was AROUSING. Feeling his face against your breast, it was LIKE he was pleasing you, but with this COLD cube. AS he was swirling the cold ice all over your breasts, he began teasingly humping against you on the floor. You began moaning. However, just as you were getting used to that cold sensation against your breasts, Jon crawled further down your body. 

The next sensation you felt was a FIRM grip on the waistband of your pajama pants. Jon yanked down your pants/panties with satisfied grunt, ripping them down to your knees. He spat out the current ice cube and grabbed a new one, placing it back in his mouth. Shirt yanked up and pants/panties yanked down, you were fully naked, trapped under him. Jon lowered his head down against you and began slowly dragging the cube from the center of your belly to your crotch. 

“AhhhOOOOOWWWWW!!” you yelled as the cold sensation traveled from your belly down to your groin. He let out a devilish chuckle through his grit teeth, dipping his head between your legs and firmly grabbing your thighs. He pulled them apart HARD. The next sensation you felt was his head between your legs as the ice cube made contact with your clit. “OWWW!! FUCK! AHHHhhhh!” you gasped. The sensation was totally overwhelming but the fact he was teasing you like this also made you crazy. You realized you DID like the shocking sensation in a sensitive place as well. He dragged his mouth down further between your legs, pushing his face against the lips of your pussy. He gently rubbed the ice cube against your pussy. Your legs shook and instinctively tried to pull away from him but he gripped your thighs HARD, forcing your legs to stay open. 

He had such a good grip on you, you just yelped and let him continue. You moaned as you felt his mouth + the ice cube rub against your pussy lips, teasing your entrance. Shivers went down your spine. Jon looked up from between your legs to look at the phone. Only 20 seconds left. He threw down your legs and climbed off of you for a moment. You were confused, left hanging with your legs open, pants down and shirt up. Jon grabbed the cup of ice and locked eyes with you. He gave you an evil grin and you KNEW he had SOME final trick up his sleeve. He dipped his whole hand in the cup of ice, getting his hand FREEZING cold. Then, he QUICKLY gripped your thighs again, VERY hard. 

Keeping your legs apart with one hand, he crawled back up your body. His pressed his face up against yours and went in for a HARD, deep kiss. As he kissed you, you felt his ice cold hand push between your thighs and against your pussy. You winced and yelped into his mouth as he kissed you hard. The next sensation you felt was two of his ICE cold fingers dip FIRMLY into your pussy. “MMMff–OOOOOOWWWW” you moaned into his mouth, feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. He kissed you hard and pressed his freezing fingers further into you, fucking you hard with them. He rubbed the roof of your wet pussy near your g spot. It was just starting to feel AMAZING when the timer went off. Jon slowly released you from the kiss and gently slid his icy fingers out of you, sucking them clean.

“FUCKING. OWWW!! J-JON??!!!” you complained while shivering. Although, you still felt an indescribable pleasure/excitement. Jon just smiled at you. “You asked for it!” he said in a satisfied tone while he climbed off of you and pushed the phone onto your naked belly. 

“YOUR turn!” Jon commanded. “GET ME GOOD, baby” Jon said in a naughty voice. You were just pulling your pants and panties up when you felt a few more ice cubes drop onto your stomach from above. You gasped and shrieked from the sudden sensation against your belly. Jon had decided to break the rules a little and drop a few more cubes onto you when you least expected it.

 “AH-OOWW WHAT THE FUCK?!!!” you complained, laughing. 

“Oops… they slipped,” Jon said in a wicked tone. You growled at him and gave him an evil look while shaking your head. You were DEFINITELY going to get him back. You immediately shut your eyes and began counting. Jon smirked and darting away. 

You finished counting and IMMEDIATELY scoured the house. Now that you got the STRONG sense how aggressive this game was going to be, you already had another idea. As you looked around the living room, you saw one of your lightweight satin/cloth scarves. It gave you an idea. You picked it up. You continued your search from Jonathan with a big smile on your face. Walking back into the dining room, you looked at the tablecloth hanging over the dining table. Having a STRONG suspicion he was hiding under there, you rushed over, whipping back the cloth. Sure enough, he was crouched right under there. Saying nothing, you crawled under the table with him, shoving him over and tackling him to the ground. 

“AGHHHH!!!” Jon yelled as you fumbled all over him in the dark and pushed your weight atop him. You straddled his body as he gladly went limp and lay flat underneath you. You had the phone timer and scarf in one of your hands. Jon moaned and giggled, waiting for you to set the phone timer and have your way. His breathing picked up as you hit “start.” 

You pushed his shoulders down and crawled up his body aggressively, scarf in hand. Jon let out a sexy grunt and you felt how soggy his pajamas still were from the water you had dumped all over him. However, you could also feel the heat of his crotch and his rising erection. YOU LOVED knowing how much he was enjoying your aggressive side. You reached down and grabbed his wrists, pinning them above HIS head as revenge. He moaned, watching you in awe and letting his legs and arms go limp for you. With the scarf, you quickly bound his wrists together, tying them tightly in a firm double knot. 

“Oooh!!!! It’s like THAT huh!?” Jon asked, teasingly. You left his hands bound above his head and he stayed limp on the ground for you with his thighs splayed. You yanked his shirt up and started gently but firmly scratching the skin of his upper chest, working your way down his belly.  “MMMMMmFffff” Jon complained while shifting his legs around and gently bucking his crotch against you. You playfully humped back against him, teasing his hard dick while clawing his stomach. You decided to take it a step further. You leaned forward, nuzzling against his neck, breathing and dragging your lips across it, He moaned and shook a little. Without warning, you sank your teeth FIRMLY into his neck while simultaneously digging/dragging your nails down his chest. 

“UGH-OOOWWWW!!!” Jon complained. You bit his neck HARDER. He let out more low growls but still seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. You let go of his neck and crawled down his body. His stomach muscles quivered in anticipation of your next move. You looked at his gorgeous tummy in the low light and decided it needed some punishment. You pressed your face against the side of his stomach and sank your teeth into the skin of his flank. “UGHHHHHHH FUCK!!! DAMMIT!!!” Jon yelled/whimpered. 

You dragged your mouth across his stomach and bit even HARDER on the other flank of his lower tummy. “Uh-AHHHH!!! Little BITCH” Jon yelped through horny/enraged moans. He started to buck his hips hader against your crotch, clearly wishing he could just fuck you now. The two of you were REALLY starting to enjoy it when the phone timer went off. You groaned in disappointment and Jon breathed hard. His stomach was rising and falling quickly as his body filled with adrenaline and his dick was filling up more. With a satisfied  laugh, you slowly under his wrists and climbed off of him. “Gahhhh….. Naughty slut,” Jon teased as he slowly wriggled away from you. You slapped the phone down on his chest before giggling and darting off. 

You heard Jon IMMEDIATELY start counting in a raspy, breaking voice. It was VERY clear you had left him quite hot/bothered. You were a little nervous, wondering what he’d do for revenge. With your brain coming undone after the last sexy “attack,” you couldn’t think of a good hiding spot. You went back to the living room and hid behind a door. There were several coats hanging from the door. With your short/thin body, you hoped that between hiding behind the coats/door, it would buy you SOME time to mentally prepare yourself for whatever Jonathan was going to do to you. 

You heard Jon yell “HERE I COME!” in an ominous voice. You felt your body shiver. He was moving RAPIDLY through the house. You heard furniture shifting and items moving as he frantically/aggressively looked for you. Within a few minutes, he was in the living room, searching around the couch and furniture. There was a heavy silence and your breath caught in your throat. Suddenly he ripped back the door and IMMEDIATELY grabbed you firmly by the waist. You let out a gasp and wrapped your hands around his big arms as he pulled you into him, growling loudly. He was VERY quick to set the phone timer. “MY turn,” he groaned in eerie, guttural, low voice. You shook in his arms as the phone timer began. 

He kept a hard grip around your waist as he slammed the door shut and ripped the coats off the door’s coat-hook. He chucked the phone onto the couch while firmly shoving your body up against the door. “HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!” Jon commanded. You shook and did as he said, raising your hands up above your head. It was then you realized Jon had kept the scarf you used on him. He reached down and pulled it out of the waistband of his pajamas, where he had tucked it for when he found you. He grabbed both of your wrists and VERY quickly tied/tightened the scarf around them. Your pussy started dripping in anticipation as he took control of you. He pushed you harder against the door, rubbing his crotch against you and keeping you tightly pinned as he tied your bound hands RIGHT onto the coat hook! 

You didn’t see THAT coming. You were now bound, and tied to the hook on the door. As your breathing picked up and your legs weakened, Jon reached his hands up under your shirt. He caressed your belly and firmly squeezed your tits before YANKING the shirt back up above your breasts. He pressed his face against the soft flesh of your breasts and firmly bit one of your nipples. “OOWWWWW!” you screamed. He had licked/bitten your nipples before but never THIS hard. You shifted your weak/trembling legs around and wriggled your bound wrists around. However, you were QUITE trapped. Jon let out wicked laughter. 

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Jon said in a dark, teasing voice. Your nipples hardened more and as you started to cream your panties . You could only moan and watch him. He gripped both of your breasts nice and firm and squeezed/pinched both nipples. “Ahhhhhh—oh god!” you yelled in a mix of pleasure/complaint. He firmly humped against your lower body while teasing/torturing your breasts. Against your thigh, you could feel just how hard his dick was. Rigid against his pajama pants. His own breath was shaky, clearly enjoying himself as he punished you. He playfully stroked your belly, moving his big hands down to your crotch. Your legs were THIS close to giving out but you had no choice but to stand, since your hands were hooked above you. 

In one quick motion, he yanked your panties and pajama bottoms down. You gasped. Jon slumped to his knees, gripping your hips hard and sinking his teeth into your thigh. You let out more yelps. He pulled your lower body more tightly against his and pushed his head around towards your backside, sinking his teeth into your ass and giving it a nice, firm bite. 

“OWWWWWW!” you screamed. 

“SHUSH!!!!” Jon commanded. “REMEMBER! NEIGHBORS! Gotta be fucking QUIET! JUST HUSH UP and TAKE THE PUNISHMENT BABY!” Jon commanded in a naughty, controlling voice. 

You gulped and nodded. The timer was almost up. 

Jon looked up at you with a wicked smirk before pushing his face between your thighs and against your pussy. He gave it delicious, gentle licks, up and down your opening. “Ahhhhhhhh god… YEahhhhhhh,” you moaned as your legs shook. 

Jon firmly licked your clit and pussy for a moment. Then, of nowhere he sank his teeth against your clit in a semi-gentle but FIRM bite. “AHHHH-UHGHH– OOWWWW!!!” you cried out. Jon sucked on the lips of your pussy before biting the lips fairly firmly AGAIN. 

“Mmmmmfffff- GOD!!!” you moaned. He had never done this before. He’d given you teasing nibbles/bites during oral but this one was a LOT more aggressive. However, it actually felt amazing. Jon had the perfect intuition for just how hard to bite without doing any REAL damage. But JUST enough to hurt a little. You LOVED it. Timer went off. You let out a disappointed groan along with Jonathan. 

It took you both a moment to collect yourselves. Jon slowly rose up from where he was knelt between your thighs. He inhaled raspy breaths while pressing against you and undoing the binding on your wrists. You felt his rigid dick against your belly. Both of you were unsure how much longer you could keep “playing” before you HAD to just FUCK. This gave you the PERFECT idea for how to torture him next, though. Jon brushed his sweaty hair away from his face, reaching over to the couch, handing you the phone. 

“Mmfff.. You’re gonna GET it,” you warned as you and Jon exchanged dirty glances. You began counting and Jon stumbled away, very aroused and hazy. As you finished counting and announced “here I come,” you rapidly overturned the house, checking everywhere. Nothing in the kitchen, living room or dining room. Your eyes moved towards the home office. Quietly stepping in, you looked around. After checking the most obvious places you were a bit confused, until you saw Jonathan’s silhouette behind the bookshelf. He had managed to wedge himself behind the shelf and the wall. Fairly impressive. 

“Ah shit,” Jonathan said in a guilty, giddy tone as he noticed he’d be found.

You immediately grabbed him by the hands, pulling him out from behind the shelf. You pressed your body hard against him as the two of you moaned. You were SO CLOSE to forgetting about the game entirely. You REALLY just wanted to just fuck him now. But you knew you had it in you to tease/mess him up at least ONE more time. 

Jonathan cracked a giddy grin, stroking his beard and waiting to see what you’d do. You set the phone timer on the desk and hit “start.” You grabbed his hips and shoved him towards the desk. He let you control him and pull him wherever you wanted to lead him. You pushed his body towards the office chair while groping his crotch and hard dick through the front of his pajama pants. He let out moans of desperation, feeling you touch him. You yanked his pajama pants and boxers part way down so his dick was exposed. 

 “SIT!” you commanded as you shoved him down in the office chair with his pants part way down, dick exposed. He plopped into the chair in an off-balance stumble and sat down, legs splayed, huge smile on his face. Instead of “torturing” him in some way, you figured the BEST revenge would be two minutes of VERY aggressive arousal that would just leave him breathless. You fell to your knees in front of him, jerking him VERY hard. 

“AAAHHHHHHHH!!! FUCK BABY!!” Jon whimpered as his hard dick twitched in your hand, responding to your aggressive motions. Your handjob was fast, firm… intentionally getting him off as much as possible.

“AAHHHh!!! YESS!!! Ju-uuusstt…keep…..ughh- SHIIIT!” Jon whined as he slumped further in the chair and widened his legs. You pressed your head between his legs and took his dick into your mouth. 

You heard Jon whimper/sob with delight as he finally had some sexual relief. You moved your mouth and hands RAPIDLY up and down his dick, sucking him HARD and fast. Jonathan was whining/shaking and begging for more. At this point he’d pretty much lost track of the game entirely. He just gripped your hair and watched in awe as you got him closer and closer to a stunning orgasm. His moans grew louder and louder. Just THEN, the timer went off. 

IMMEDIATELY, you pulled your mouth and hands off his dick and rose to your feet, stepping away from him and darting across the room. Jonathan was left hazy and stunned, DESPERATE to just CUM. He caught his breath, growling and grunting. 

“Uhhhhh… MY GOD… I needed that. Ju- just come back baby!! PLEASE!” Jon begged, staggering to his feet and stumbling across the room to come get you. He began groping you sloppily and trying to reach for your pajama pants to pull them down. You pushed him off of you NICE AND FIRM. 

“NOPE, you said AT LEAST four rounds!!!! And YOUR time is up! Now you have to find ME!” you commanded.  

Jon reluctantly stopped himself, growling like an animal. He took slow steps away from you as you pushed him off… Jon gave you a VERY DARK, pissed off stare, before cracking the most wicked grin you’d ever seen. He slowly reached his hands down, putting his very hard dick back in his pajama pants while letting out a frustrated growl, eyeing you from top to bottom and slowly nodding his head. 

“Hmmmmmm” he growled. “You. Little. BITCH,” Jon uttered in a low, frustrated voice.

“You better hide GOOD. REALLLLLLL GOOD” Jon warned in an eerie, growling tone. You were more than a little bit fearful now, although your panties were also saturated and you were DESPERATE to know what he’d do to you. 

“ONE!!!! TWO!!” Jon yelled as he grabbed the phone and started counting at a rapid pace. You raced away as fast as you could. You figure you’d better buy yourself as much time as possible. Jonathan was EXTREMELY sexually frustrated and eager to punish you. You looked around for a less obvious place so it would hopefully give him some time to “calm down” a bit. The very back of the coat closet wasn’t the best option in the world but was slightly less obvious than the other rooms. There was also a small step-ladder in there. You ran into the closet, shifted the step ladder behind the row of coats and buried your body behind all the clothing. 

“HERE I COME!” you heard Jon shout in an ominous voice. He moved quickly through the house. You heard his loud, angry stomps creaking across the floor. They went all over the place, somewhat aimlessly. Maybe he was too aroused to properly search each room. It sounded like he was stomping aimlessly, all over the place. But then you heard slow steps moving closer to the closet door. You covered your mouth in fear/anticipation. The closet door slowly cracked open. Dead silence. Jon stepped inside and looked around and behind the coat closet door. He stood motionless for a moment. You had no idea if he’d noticed you. After a long, tense moment, he slowly stepped out of the coat closet and shut the door. 

You let out a sigh, SLIGHTLY relieved you’d faked him out. No sooner had you let out your breath than you heard the closet door FLY open. Jon’s big hand reached  behind the row of coats and GRABBED you, digging his nails into your arm and pulling you off the ladder and into his arms. You let out a genuine scream of surprise/terror. 

He’d decided to play with you and fake you out, making you think he hadn’t noticed you. He firmly pulled you HARD against his body, facing you away from him. You gasped in his arms as you watched him pull up the phone timer and set two minutes while grunting and breathing angrily. You had NO time to react. Timer started and Jon gripped the back of your hair VERY firmly, crushing a large portion of it up in his hands while holding you against him. He started tugging you out of the closet by your hair and waist. 

“YOUR HAIR IS COMING TO THE LIVING ROOM WITH ME BITCH! YOU MIGHT WANNA FOLLOW IT!” Jon commanded while tugging you out by the hair and waist. 

“FUCK!” you yelped in an overwhelming mix of arousal and shock. You stumbled against him as he walked you briskly into the living room with a tight grip on your hair and body. He HAD you. There was no getting away from him…. Not that you wanted to. When Jonathan got you to the living room, he immediately pulled you into him onto the couch. He kept a firm grip on your hair, tugging you against his body. 

“NAUGHTY fuckin girl,” Jon repromanded while tossing your body across his lap by the hair. He pulled you forward by the arms and pushed your head down towards the ground so you were bent over his knee. 

“Naughty girls get PUNISHED!!” Jon growled. You just hyperventilated and went limp, your whole body feeling like jelly. His hand ripped at the back of your pajama pants. He yanked down the back of your pajama bottoms and panties so your ass was exposed as he had you draped over his knee. Before you knew what was happening, you felt hard, rough smacks against your ass with his big hand. 

“AAHHH!!! OOWWW!!!” you yelped as you shifted around trying to crawl out of the bent position he had you locked in. He held you down hard with his arms. 

“NO NO!!!! You’re gonna TAKE this punishment!” Jon commanded. He gripped your arm hard, keeping you locked in the bent position over his knee. He went on, rhythmically slapping your ass, making each cheek more and more red. He’d playfully slapped your ass before and you loved it. But this was a TRULY aggressive spanking. It hurt, but shivers were still going down your spine as you moaned and wriggled around. Each smack sent delicious shock waves through your pussy. You LIKED it.

He wasn’t letting you go ANYWHERE. You just moaned and slumped down over his knee as you let him continue smacking your ass nice and hard. He would let up for a few seconds, leave you gasping, wondering if he was done. Then you’d feel another hard set of smacks. You let out loud, guttural moans of pleasure/pain. Jonathan’s breathing was hard and VERY shaky. You could feel his absolutely RIGID dick against your belly as you were bent over him. Jon moaned and began to totally lose composure, staring at your naked/flushed ass and the view of your pussy from behind. He couldn’t help himself. He licked two of his fingers and pushed them HARD into your pussy from behind. 

“AAHHH!!!! FUCK yes!!!” you moaned in pleasure. 

“GAAHHHH!! Naughty slut! I KNEW you LIKED it!!! Made daddy so FUCKEN PISSED!” Jon teased/growled as he pushed his fingers firmly in and out of your soaked pussy. 

You were so overwhelmed, you had no words. You just moaned louder and went increasingly limp over his knee. Two minute timer went off. Time was up. The two of you just froze. Neither of you could catch your breath. Jon’s fingers were still inside your soaked pussy, slowly moving in and out. You were too limp/overwhelmed to even think about getting up off his knee. 

You and Jon both let out raspy, sexually frustrated sighs. Jonathan’s breathing was shakier than ever. You slowly whined and pushed yourself up off Jon’s knee, and he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, gripping you by the shoulders and helping you sit up. He sat you next to him on the couch. The two of you exchanged hazy stares while breathing HARD. Jon had sweat pouring down his forehead and your wet hair was plastered against your face. After a moment of silence, you spoke: 

“Jon……?” you whispered.

“Y-yyeah??” Jon said, his voice breaking. 

“Can…. the game be done now?” you begged. 

“Guhhhhh,... fuu…. Yeah! Game can be fucken done!” Jon replied in a raspy, sexually frustrated voice. IMMEDIATELY the two of you threw yourselves at each other. You pushed hard against each other, exchanging a deep, sloppy kiss. Jon stood up and ripped your pants/panties the rest of the way off and pushed you hard back against the couch. He ripped his pajamas/boxers off and pushed himself on top of you. The two of you moaned loudly, aggressively groping each other and digging your nails into each other’s flesh. Jon gripped your hips again and flipped you over so you were face/belly down on the couch. You moaned in pleasure as you felt him climb atop you, pin you to the couch and push his painfully hard dick into your pussy from behind. 

“FUCK YES!” you begged. 

Jon started fucking you from behind with incredible intensity. He had been SO sexually frustrated. Your pussy was slippery and soaked and having him FINALLY fuck you felt INCREDIBLE. Your ass was still sore from the spanking. You felt a bit of pain from the flushed skin of your ass as his hips slapped against ass/pussy from behind. But you LOVED it ALL. His pace picked up and his grunts got louder. You raised your ass upward against him so he could get even deeper inside you and hit your g-spot over and over. Your pussy clenched around his swollen dick and he let out a desperate whimper. He gripped your hips harder, raising your ass higher against him so he could fuck you harder in a doggy style position. You squealed with pleasure as he fucked deeper into you. 

The two of you were getting SO LOUD, you could hear it echo in other rooms of the house. Hazy and lost, you kept fucking for a good, long time. Neither of you wanted it over with. Jon was determined to fuck/punish your pussy as long as he could. He did his best to fuck you hard and long and hold himself back from coming. The two of you kept at it for a LONG while, making lots of noise. You felt your dripping cunt getting sore from so much pounding. However, it felt AMAZING to get fucked like this after so much tension. So many lost/lonely days. Getting laid this hard was DIVINE after so many awful days. You were SO close to coming you could barely stand it. 

“UGHGHHHh!!! I’m REALLY close!!” you yelped/warned Jon. 

“Mmmmmfff…. Hold it back until I SAY like a GOOD girl,” Jon commanded in an eerie voice. He  released his grip on one of your hips with just one of his hands. He brought his fingers to his mouth. You heard him licking/sucking his fingers before reaching around your body and pressing those fingers firmly against your clit. He rubbed your clit HARD while he kept fucking you from behind. 

“AHHHH!!!! YUh—YEEAH! You’re gonna make me cum like that!” you whined. 

“NOT YET!” Jon demanded while pumping into you and rubbing your clit harder. Your pussy vibrated, desperate for the relief of an orgasm. You gasped and did your best to hold back your urge to cum. 

Jon’s pace picked up even more, pounding HARD into you while firmly/rapidly rubbing your clit. 

“UGHHH, I NEED to come!! Jon!!! Ugghhh- ahhh,” you whined. 

“BEG FOR IT. Lemme hear you BEG!” Jon commanded. 

“PLEASE Jon!!! I need to cu- ughh– cum!!! PLEASE” you begged.

Jon slowed his pumps and the rubbing of your clit to a PAINFULLY slow pace. He was teasing you to the extreme and you moaned and shook. 

“BEG,” Jon said again in a low growl. 

“Ugghhhhh… PLEEEEEASE JON… p-ppplease!” you begged one final time. 

“MMmmmm… good girl…..COME FOR ME!” Jon commanded as he picked up the pace of his pumps and pushed HARD and rapid against your clit.

 “AHHHHHHHH GAAAhhhh!!!” you screamed as your body began shaking. You let out a devastating moan of pleasure as your orgasm wracked your body. Instead of slowing his pace as you came, Jon fucked you EVEN harder, pushing his cock deep in and taking rough, hard pumps. 

Your pussy kept pulsating/clenching hard as you screamed/came. Your orgasm felt like it went on forever as he continued to fuck you hard. As you continued cumming/getting fucked, you lost your balance, flopping against the couch. Jon fell on top of you, still pumping, his hand pressing against your clit from behind. Your orgasm was powerful/blissful and your pussy squirted against Jon’s hand as you kept coming. You shook like crazy as Jon continued to rampantly pump into you, growling loudly like an animal. 

Jon couldn’t handle it anymore. Hearing your screams of relief and feeling your pussy squirt all over his hand was his last straw. You heard him let out one more gasp before feeling him FREEZE against your body. He let out a scream of pleasure. He couldn’t hold it anymore and lost control, exploding inside your soaked pussy. You could actually feel drops of sweat from his forehead fall against your back and shoulders as he came HARD inside you. Jon braced himself against your body, releasing into you in long, thick spurts. Jon whined and sighed, feeling tremendous relief and gasping with pleasure. He kept coming and collapsed his sweaty chest against you from behind. The two of you were drenched in sweat droplets and you could feel his wet hair soaking against the back of your neck/shoulders. “GUUUUHHHHH.. AHhH!! FUCK!! YE-eeess…” Jon yelled/sighed in a blissful voice as he finished coming deep inside you. 

Neither of you could move. You were both breathing too hard. Jon slowly lifted his tired head off your shoulder and moved your wet hair aside to plant slow, tender kisses on your neck and shoulders. You moaned and writhed around under him. His dick was still inside you. He had been so rigid it was only beginning to gradually soften as he finished dripping into you. He wasn’t in a rush to pull out. You both felt so good. Very slowly, the two of you recovered. He slowly and carefully climbed off of you. You felt a wet trail of fluid as he slid his satisfied dick out of your pussy and out from between your thighs. 

Jon gripped you around the hips and gently helped you back into a sitting position. Your pants/panties had been around your ankles this whole time. Your legs were so weak, you needed him to help you. He gripped you under the arms, helping bring you to your feet and lean against him for balance. He slowly knelt in front of you, kissing your thighs and soaked pussy. As he knelt in front of you, you stroked his soaked hair. He stole a glimpse at your backside to check out the damage he’d done to your ass from the spanking. Sure enough there were visible red marks in the imprint of a hand. 

“FUCK….. I may have gone a bit too far,” Jon said, locking eyes with you and giving an apologetic smile. 

“That’s okay..  I loved it,” you whispered while weakly smiling back. 

“You DID?” Jon asked, curious. 

“I did,” you whispered. Jon shook his head, smiling more and clearly contemplating future “adventures” the two of you can explore, knowing you like it rough/kinky sometimes. He shook his head, grinning, before gingerly pulling your pants/panties back up to your waist. With a satisfied sigh, he rose to his feet and gave you a slow, tender kiss. 

“I guess we both feel better now, huh?” Jon asked in a teasing voice. 

“Ahem.. yeah. A LOT better,” you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and standing up as tall as you can to give him another big kiss. Your faces, bodies and clothes were both wet with sweat. 

You had no idea what to do next. You were both spent. As the two of you breathed hard together and held each other in a dizzy embrace… the exhaustion caught up with you two simultaneously. Jon gripped your waist and pulled you back onto the couch with him. His body heat was almost overwhelming considering the two of you were still so hot/sweaty. But you loved it. ALL you wanted was to be next to him. You kept catching your breath together as you rested your head on his sweaty chest and he ran his fingers through your damp hair. Slowly, your breathing quieted and the two of you found yourself shutting your eyes. 

“Mffff… we should probably….. Get up…. Just … crawl into bed, huh?” Jon asked, sleepily. 

“Yeah….. Probably,” you replied, half asleep. Neither of you moved. Jon groaned and lulled his head further against the couch, dazed and exhausted. You quietly whimpered as you slumped your head further against his chest. Your eyes kept shutting. That was the last thing the two of you remembered as you drifted off to sleep together in a sweaty, exhausted mess. 

------

Side note:

I have a TikTok & Youtube where I make sexy/funny JD thirst traps/naughty joke Korn-related comedy edits if y'all are interested. I include myself in several vids, I'm an openly pervy/dorky lady haha. My accounts are not for clout/promotion. I'm just way into him (if you couldn't tell). If you stumbled THIS far into sexy JD stuff you might enjoy my vids.

Link to my Tiktok:

Link to an example vid:

Youtube link to an example vid of me being a dorky perv 🤣

Link to my Youtube:

[tiresomeimagination]

The Demons in the Details (707 x Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's note: This is an entry for @mysticmessengerenglish's fanfic contest. The theme was weddings and I had an idea to try playing with. Hope you enjoy! ^^

You paused in your inspection of the current venue and glanced back over at Saeyoung to gauge his reaction. He looked deep in thought as he scanned the building. You wished you could hear his thoughts… He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

~~~~~

Wedding preparations are always tiring. They become even more so when expectations or standards are a bit too particular. Saeyoung was by no means a very picky person. In fact, you often had to nag him about keeping his preferences quiet for the sake of others. So it was a bit out of the ordinary to find that Saeyoung was so critical of every venue you visited. There was always something. It was too public of a spot, it was too closed off, it didn’t have enough exits, and the list went on. Nothing was quite right. You got the feeling that if it were solely up to him, he would just have the whole thing in his bunker.

His mind was racing with every possible worst-case scenario. He had to. After all, he had finally gotten everything he ever wanted. He was reunited with his brother. He had found a new family in the RFA members. He had even found the love of his life. He had…everything to lose. With his father and the agency still out there looking for him, he had far too many enemies to take any chances.

Finally, Saeyoung seemed to reach a decision. “Hm…yeah…this place is nice and all, but I just don’t think it’s us, y’know? I mean… we can definitely do better,” he said with a slight chuckle, attempting to keep his voice light and casual.

You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. “This is the fifth place we’ve seen today. We’re kind of running out of options…” You tried to point out as gently as possible.

Saeyoung let out a small sigh of his own as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. “You’re right, you’re right. How about we just…sleep on it for now? I have some more research to do anyway.”

You knew this ‘research’ probably involved running background checks on all the venue’s staff that would even breathe in the general vicinity of the event.

“...Okay. Yeah… It’s getting late anyway. We might as well go back,” you relented. You wanted to try your best to be accommodating. You knew that he had to do whatever he could do to feel safe.

Spirits were low as the two of you returned to the bunker. There was a certain unspoken tension that neither you nor Saeyoung wished to address. You both made light small talk about the day as you had dinner with him and Saeran as usual, but you could tell Saeyoung was still worried. As much as you wanted to try and talk through things, you didn’t want to push him before he was ready…. And so, even as you retired to the guest room for bed, the topic was avoided entirely for the night.

You awoke a few hours later. After a quick glance at your phone to confirm that it was indeed the middle of the night, you decided to get up and check in on Saeyoung. Experience told you that there was a good chance he got caught up in something and would need to be talked into actually going to bed. However, rather than a chance for playful teasing between you two, what you found when you peeked in was much more concerning.

Saeyoung sat on the edge of his bed, hunched forward with his head in his hands. Without thinking, you entered and quickly crossed the room towards him. 

The sound of your footsteps jolted him out of whatever state he had been in and his head whipped up to lock eyes with you. “…Y/N…?” He asked quietly as if your presence had surprised him.

“Saeyoung! What’s wrong?? Did something happen?” You asked worriedly as you came to a stop by his side.

He took a moment to register your words, still lost in his thoughts. “...Um…yeah…I-I mean no.” He stammered out, pausing to rub tiredly at his face and try to recollect his jumbled thoughts. “Everything’s fine. I just…had a weird dream, hah…” He breathed out quietly.

You frowned deeply and sat down beside him, placing a light touch on his arm. “Do you want to talk about it…?” You asked softly.

He didn’t answer, so you continued. “Whatever it is…you can talk to me. We promised to handle things together, remember? You don’t have to talk about it right now, but I can tell you’ve been worried about something and it’s more than just whether we get married someplace with or without windows, so-”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Saeyoung suddenly interrupted your ramble. 

“...What…?” You replied, caught off guard by his words.

Saeyoung took a deep breath in and let it out before he looked over at you. “Things aren’t going to be easy, you know. Living with me…won’t be easy.” He paused, glancing down at the engagement ring you wore on your hand. A sign of your connection to one another.

“...What? What are you talking about?”

He sighed again and gently took your hand in his. “I still have a lot of enemies. You could get caught in the crossfire of any one of them.”

“Saeyoung…”

“Every time I close my eyes… I see everything that could go wrong. And every time I open them again I think about how I’m not ready. If I fail to account for even one possible threat, you could get hurt…or worse…"

"Saeyoung." You called out a little louder, hoping to get his attention off of his spiraling anxious thoughts and back onto you. When he looked back up at you, you continued. "You don't have to bear everything alone anymore. Everyone in RFA has your back. Saeran and I too. We're all in this together. And if dealing with Mint Eye has taught us anything…it's that we're stronger together." You said with a soft smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

You brought your other hand up to gently touch his shoulder. "And to answer your question…yes. This is what I want. You are what I want, and nothing will change that."

The both of you were moments away from tears. Saeyoung quickly pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face into your shoulder and sniffling softly.

"I love you so much, Y/N." He murmured, his voice muffled by your shirt. 

The second half went unspoken but you could hear it loud and clear. He was afraid of losing you. No amount of mere words could quell those fears entirely. They lived so deeply in his heart and you couldn’t chase them all out no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do was try to support him.

You let out a sigh as you hugged him back and let your own tears fall as well. "I love you too.”

Your happily ever after wouldn't be as easy as the fairy tales made them out to be…but you two would be okay so long as you stood together. You weren’t about to let go, and by the looks of his grip right now, neither was he.

[teethondafloor]

Wait On Me - ¡Rescue Me! - (Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader)

This is an extract from the Wattpad fanfic I am currently writing, where each chapter is named after a song on Tokio Hotel's "Scream" album :3

Year: 2008

Warnings: Fluff and mentions of depression

My username on Wattpad is @Kazoozia if you're interested in reading the rest!

________.✮.________

After the concert ends and the lights are flashed back on, I feel a rush of fans behind me heading to the exit doors, their footsteps trampling over any litter left abandoned on the ground. I am one of the first people to leave the venue, as I was stuck hovering near the back of the room all night. However, I can't complain. The concert was unbelievable; Tom's rapid and clean guitar solos are still looping in my head after the show. My ears feel muffled and swollen as they are put at ease once the music is turned off, the large amps projecting a sharp ring when they are suddenly unplugged from their instruments. Deafened by their blare, I walk out of the building, feeling the cool breeze of the night slap me across the face as I inch closer to the outside. The realisation of how hot it was in that room hits me like the cold wind around me, melting away at my touch. I move away from the doors, looking around. I see some parents stepping out of their cars, growing impatient as they wait for their kids to come out of the building behind me. Making space for them, I stand at the wall of the venue with the front doors to my left and call myself a taxi back to the hotel.

As I wait for my taxi to arrive, I can't help but think about the concert again and again. I have the whole night playing over in my head like a broken record, repeating the same lyrics and tunes, burning them into the cracks of my brain. I was blown away by the intense energy from the crowd, perfectly complimenting the lively spirit of the band. I think of Bill. I'm still left speechless from his long stare and his teethy smile, shining in my direction. As some fans walk by, I feel their smiling faces glancing over at me, clearly remembering me for the plethora of noise I made at the back. I gently smile back at some of them as they pass, a sudden feeling of embarrassment washing over me, causing the hair on my arms to rise. God, did I disturb the show?

Busy watching the whole concert play out in my mind, I look up, noticing the taxi pull up on the other side of the pavement in front of me. I pull on the car's door and hop inside, watching my head as I lower my body into the vehicle. When I close the door behind me, I feel the car starting, shaking underneath me. It's rough interior brushes up against my bare arms and there is little room for my legs. It smells like hot shit, but I'll cope, I smile to myself. We drive through the lit up streets of Berlin, the city's graffitied walls blending into a solid, bright pink colour as we drive past them with speed. Looking out at the line of buildings and bars, I dig through my right jean pocket, grasping my crumpled up concert ticket in my palm. I uncrumple it a little and gaze at it's contents. I should've asked for a signature, I think to myself. A little bummed, I still doubt that I'll ever forget a night like this; the electricity of the concert rushing through me still. I scrunch up the paper once more and shove it back into my pocket, and as I look up, I see the hotel edging closer towards us. "This is me." I say to the driver, hoping that he stops near here so I don't have to walk back to the front doors from the parking lot behind the building. To my surprise, he stops just at the front doors of the hotel. I guess luck is on my side tonight, I think. I feel the car stop, the force pushing me forward a little until I bounce back into my seat again. I thank the driver and pay him for the trip, and as I exit the car I glance at my watch, "10.40pm" staring back at me.

Holding onto the straps of my backpack, I enter through the hotel doors and check into my room after a long, eventful night. I stumble towards the elevator doors and step inside, grazing my fingers over the buttons, until  pressing one that leads to the 5th floor. In the elevator, I feel my eyelids starting to lay heavy on my eyes, covering them over almost fully. I sway as the elevator travels from the bottom of the building right to the top, until I hear the 'ding' of the elevator stopping at my floor. As the doors slide open and reveal my face to the other side, I collect myself, step out and take a turn to my right, now walking towards my hotel room. I walk with my eyes half shut, tired and worn from the excitement of the night. On my way down the corridor, I walk past a few people, not batting an eye as they pass; until I hear someone call out from behind me. At first I don't think to turn around, assuming the call is directed to someone else in the hallway. All of the sudden, I feel firm footsteps running towards me, causing cold air to hit my back from the sudden movement. Before I turn around I feel a slight tap on my shoulder. I stop in my step and watch how this tall figure steps in front of me, cutting me off. They are now facing me. Silence settles between us, before they finally speak up. "Sorry to bother...uh...you dropped this" they hand me a crumpled piece of paper. A look of confusion shoots through my face which soon relaxes when I uncrumple the paper, realising that it's my concert ticket. "So...you're a fan I'm guessing" I hear them smile through their words, making me look up slowly. A sharp spark shoots into my throat, through my veins and burns at my fingertips.

It's Bill. Bill Kaulitz. My mouth peers open when I see his face, looking down at me with a smile. His hair is still caked with hairspray, now a little more flat, leaving only some strands pointing up to the ceiling. His fully black, emo attire contrasts with the yellow hallway lights, beaming above us. He looked like my shadow, ominously towering over me. "Oh my god.." I blurt out, not intending him to hear. "Bill, uh..." I shake my head, electricity rushing through me. "What are you...doing here?" I scrunch my eyebrows. He looks down at the floor for a second and then glances back at me before answering. "I'm just..." He thinks "on a walk around the building!" As he examines my face his eyebrows slowly lower and he turns his head slightly to the side. "Were you...at my concert? This nights concert?...You were the girl at the back right? The one screaming." he huffs gently, smiling and awaiting my answer which he clearly already knows.

"Yeah-" I chuckle and nod "yeah that was me up there...I hope I didn't disturb the concert too much." I smile awkwardly.

"No way!" His smile widens, revealing his teeth "You killed it! You brought that concert to life!" I bite the inside of my cheek as I smile, surprised by his enthusiasm. "And you...you were amazing up there- the...the whole band was. you killed that." I say, shaking my head. Bill laughs quietly and looks down at his feet, taking in my praise before opening his mouth to say something. "Thank you thank you...tonight was great for me too, I only fucked up like...once or twice" We both laugh and I notice him looking me up and down subtly.

"It was perfect, don't stress it." I say, reassuring him. We stand in silence for a moment, not knowing what else to say when I finally speak up, breaking our eye contact. "Well, I'll let you go now, you can have your...stroll around the building" I say jokingly. Bill looks away, chuckling softly. "Yeah uh...I'll do that!..." He takes a step forward, heading up the corridor before suddenly hesitating. "Oh my god I'm awful...I don't think I got your name sorry..." He stutters a little when he says this, anticipating my answer. Charmed by his awkwardness, I smile and gaze into his eyes. "y/n" I say, nodding my head.

"y/n" He repeats my name back, letting it's taste settle in his mouth. After a moment of brief silence, he breaks our eye-contact, his eyes shooting quick glances at me "Well, I hope you have a nice night y/n." Standing inches away from me, he raises his arm out, inviting me to shake it. I take his hand gently, feeling his cold rings pressing against my fingers. He looks at me for just a second longer and heads down the corridor before I can say my goodbyes. I turn back, my eyes following the back of his head.

Stricken with shock, I'm stunned to my core. What the hell just happened, I think, my back now to him. I just spoke to Bill fucking Kaulitz. Although I am frozen over in shock, I still feel a sort of warmth clustering inside my stomach. I think of his awkward smiles and prolonged stares. In that moment he was so...human. Up until now I've never really seen him in this light, as the only light that is flickered onto him is through interviews and photoshoots; where he is glamorised and simplified, leaving out the human part of him in between each flicker. Seeing his authenticity slip through his stutter, made me realise that Bill in fact is not a shadow that towers over me which I can morph into my own liking, but a person; one like me. I look down at the concert ticket, now warm in my grasp. Maybe I don't need that signature after all.

________.✮.________

Rummaging my keys through the keyhole, I step inside my breezy hotel room, locking the door behind me. I had left some windows open before leaving for the concert, which left the day's cold breath swirling around the room, blowing on the long and cheap curtains which brush against the carpeted floor. Feeling the air grazing my arms, I take a hold of my elbows in a gentle embrace while I step towards one of the windows, reaching over to shut it. A final huff of air escapes the window as I close it, shuffling the curtains delicately before they settle at last. I look out at the city below me, the sky painted a rich blue with shiny white glitter scattered all over. The moon casts a beam of light onto the city's buildings, which disappears into their shadows, creating a maze of black alleyways in between them. Admiring the view at my feet, I pull the curtains over the window, the rings holding them up jamming as I force them towards me. The moon's faint light still peers through the thin fabric, reflecting onto the carpet. With little light in the room, I shuffle towards the small lamp on table next to my bed, and blindly feel the switch with my fingers before pressing it. As the room bursts into a warm wash of light, I set my bag down on the ground next to the dresser.

What a night, I think. The exhaustion from the long day hits me once more, and I feel myself yawn as I stretch my arms out in front of me and rest them on my head. I take a moment to breathe, process. My mind is fogged with moments from the concert and the taxi and the ticket and Bill. Bill. Mostly Bill. The realisation that he is in the same building as me right now is slowly setting in, leaving me speechless. God. What if I run into him again? That would be awkward...I think? I don't know. I can't think right now. I need to uh...

I rub my eyes with both hands, wanting to keep myself awake. Trying to gather my thoughts, I look around again before untying my converse and unzipping my jeans, sliding them off of my legs in a struggle. I pick my jeans up with one hand and throw them into the corner of the room, where a pile of the rest of my dirty (or not so dirty) clothes helplessly lie. Honestly, I lost track of what pile that is a while ago. I stumble towards the small bathroom across from me and I hit the light switch with my hand, its bright flash blinding me. I hold onto the edge of the bathtub in the room, propping myself up while I turn the shower on and wait for the warm water to flow through its pipes. The cold and sharp water drips onto my knuckles, sprinkling me with its thin shards; I wiggle my hand above the bath, shaking it off. grabbing my band shirt by its sides, I pull it over my head and arms, dropping it onto the bathroom floor. As I hear it fall behind me, I slip out of my underwear and step into the tub, watching my head on the railing above. The water is warming up now and I can feel its warm droplets hitting against my skin, washing away the excitement of the night.

I stand in the shower for almost an hour, letting the water cleanse my mind as well as my skin. The burning steam from the shower fogs up the glass surrounding it, trapping the heat inside as it sinks into my pores. After allowing the water to warm me up completely, I sigh and turn the shower off, carefully stepping out of the tub. I grab a towel off of its rack which is bolted onto the wall, first drying myself off and then using it to wrap my hair in a tight turban. I walk out of the bathroom, hearing the soles of my feet patter on the damp floor under me after each step. I wander over to my white sheeted bed and throw myself onto it, my eyes looking up at the ceiling above me. I sit for a while in silence, my mind tired and still fogged with the hot steam which soon disintegrates into the air, revealing the thoughts which I had suppressed the whole night. 

What am I doing? I think. I glance over to my bedside table which holds a small lamp, a pile of university leaflets and pages of forms to fill out. I sigh and roll onto my side, my eyes now pointing to my laptop; I haven't turned it on since I got here a week ago. I've been avoiding writing for weeks now, which is definitely not helping me develop my portfolio. Stupid fucking portfolio. mountains of monologues and poems that I never manage to rhyme properly. They say I need to showcase my best work, for the world to know what I can do. But I just...can't. I can't help but keep proving that all of this is for nothing. I don't know what's wrong with me...I wanted this, I did. I said I would travel all the way out here to find a decent university that will take me in for what I am, for what I can do. For what I thought I could do. But what if I can't do this anymore? What if I'm sick of trying? What if these pages I'm writing mean nothing and I'm wasting my time trying to be understood. When the world was made for visuals and I can only communicate with words. God. My mind spirals down into a hole, the same hole that was left deep within me when my music career failed and plummeted into it. I'm so scared that writing will dig deeper, leaving me hallow. I notice my breath quicken as these thoughts race through me and even as I wallow in self pity, I hold myself, forcing any comfort I could find left within me onto myself.

I yawn gently, looking around the dimly lit room as the bedside lamp flickers slightly. I reach over to the drawer, pulling it open with ease and dig out my silver iPod mini, clutching it and the earphones dangling from it in the palm of my hand. Switching off the lamp, I pull the hotel's white duvet over me; soft folk melodies singing me to sleep. Laying with my thoughts tangling in my head, I skip a song and a familiar tune starts to play: "This used to be our secret...Now I'm hiding here alone..." It was 'Rescue Me'. I remind myself of the the same lyrics that played at the concert a few hours ago. Hours ago when loud music also drowned out my thoughts. I curl up into a ball as the song plays, feeling the duvet absorb my body heat and create a soft mist of heat hovering over me like a warm aura. I fall fast asleep, screaming in my head, my voice desperately trying to escape me. "...My S.O.S on radio...The only chance to let you know...What I fear...Can you hear?...Come and rescue me..."

________.✮.________

- teethondafloor (Zuźka)