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hellohannie · 1 year

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Enchantress of the Forest (m) | ljh

“𝙅𝙞𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚?”

after struggling to fall asleep one night, jihoon decides to try his luck at the campsite set up deeper in the forest, away from his drunk members filming content for "seventeen in the soop". what he didn't expect was to run into you. mysterious, enchanting, you. part of the enchantress of the forest series. read part two here!

♡ PLAYERS - lee jihoon x f.reader

♡ WORD COUNT - 7.0K

♡ TAGS - fantasy au, faerie!reader, fluff, minor angst, smut (MDNI): implied virgin!reader, unprotected sex

♡ NOTES - hi again :) so, this is not part of my taylor swift x seventeen collection, but i just couldn't get myself to sit and write for those stories. i was rewatching ITS season 1 and then inspiration struck so... i ended up writing this instead!

it's also my first time writing smut, so i apologize if it's not very good

also, i'm thinking about starting a permanent taglist, so if anyone wants to be on it, please drop a request in the ask box! thank you! I hope you enjoy!

It amazed Jihoon every time how loud his members could be, despite the size of the space they were in. It’s one thing to be able to hear Mingyu and Seungcheol bickering in the kitchen from his bedroom in their apartment, but how is it that he can hear Soonyoung screaming from the dining hall while he’s in the upper house? That’s a whole separate building. Not to mention they are in a literal forest, with so much vast space, yet that man’s voice still carries. Every door and window in the upper house was closed, for God’s sake. Jihoon even has on Hansol’s headphones with a pillow mashed to them, and he still can’t fall asleep. It’s just too loud.

Listen, Jihoon understands, ok? Karaoke, drunk karaoke at that, is meant to be loud and obnoxious. But, he’s been working as an unofficial workout trainer all day to his members who were worried they’d let their diets go too much on this trip. They only had two more days in the soop, and Jihoon wanted nothing more than to add as much sleep to his reservoir as he could since he knew it would be time to grind out in his studio the minute they returned to Seoul.

Jihoon kicked the blankets off his body with a loud groan before swinging his legs to the ground.

“Jihoonie,” Jeonghan cooed from the other side of the bed. “Can’t sleep?”

Jihoon shot his elder brother with a dry look. “What does it look like?”

“Oof, no need to be so snarky,” Jeonghan teased, turning his phone screen off and placing the device on his chest. “Where are you going?”

Jihoon roughly tugged on a hoodie, uncaring of how his hair was sticking up in clumps. “I’m gonna shove that microphone down Soonyoung’s throat,” he griped.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Jeonghan was sitting up by this point and digging around in the closet. “Here,” he chucked a duffel bag at Jihoon, who caught it with a grunt. “Take this and go down to the campsite by the stream. Joshua and I slept down there last night when the very intense foot volleyball match was happening. Very peaceful. No screaming K-idols. Highly recommend.”

Jihoon shot him a grossed out look. “You really expect me to believe you two snuck away to a secluded tent for peace and quiet to sleep?” The blush creeping up the blonde’s ears was enough of an answer for Jihoon. “Yeah, thanks, but no thanks.” He dropped the duffel bag with a thud.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous Ji,” Jeonghan scolded, arms crossed over his chest, half in embarrassment and half in annoyance. “We brought the soiled sleeping bag home. The one left behind is clean. That duffel bag has all the essentials: water, snacks, extra clothes. Everything you need for a good night’s sleep. Go, light a fire, enjoy nature. Maybe you’ll find some inspiration for our next album.” The wink he sent Jihoon seemed a bit suspicious, as if he knew something more than he was letting on.

Too exhausted to question him any further, Jihoon picked the duffel bag up off the floor and headed out the door.

The trek to the campsite was silent, and Jihoon was thankful. He couldn’t remember the last time he could hear himself just breathe. When he was in Seoul he was either rehearsing with the members or in his studio. When he was in his studio, he was always making music or listening to guides. Come to think of it, Jihoon rarely slept without noise. So what was he thinking wandering off into the forest in search of sleep? Maybe he should’ve put up with Sooonyoung’s drunk crooning.

Suddenly, the smell of burning wood and the sound of crackling fire overtook his senses. Is someone else here? Jihoon thought. It couldn’t be any of the members. They were all drinking or asleep. He started walking quicker, the campsite more visible the closer he got to it. There was definitely a bonfire lit by the tent, and Jihoon was pretty sure he could see the silhouette of a person sitting on the log near it, their back facing him with waist length hair that shimmered like glitter. Definitely not a member.

“Excuse me?” Jihoon called out, now merely feet from the campsite. The unknown woman turned to look over her shoulder and Jihoon felt his breath catch in his throat. Whoever this girl was, she was glowing, literally. Like a star, she had pure white light surrounding her body.

Big, doe eyes blinked at him. “Hello.” You only said one word, but your silvery voice left Jihoon in awe. There was silence for a few minutes before you cocked your head questioningly. “You are?”

Jihoon snapped out of his reverie, clearing his throat as he looked away, willing his face not to flush with color. “I’m Ji-” he stopped, appalled. He almost gave his identity away to a total stranger. You could be a sasaeng for all he knows and here he was ready to spew out his social security number if you asked, all because he thought you were beautiful. “I’m the owner of this camp,” he said, firmly, “and you are?”

“Liar,” you stood up, the white, satin dress adorning your body swishing delicately around your calves as you walked towards Jihoon. “The owners are the two men who were here the night before. You,” you came to a still directly in front of Jihoon, “are not either of them.”

Jihoon sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Those were my friends, we share this area. That doesn’t matter though because you obviously don’t own this area-”

“False,” you cut in, and Jihoon would’ve been irritated if he didn’t find your melodious voice so soothing. “While I may not own these objects,” you gracefully extended an arm towards the camp set-up, “this land does in fact belong to me.”

Jihoon raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You own the forest?”

“This part of it, yes,” you said, candidly.

“What? Do you work for the Korea Forest Service or something?” Jihoon laughed, disbelievingly. You simply gave him a confused look. Jihoon huffed, walking towards the tent so he could toss the duffel bag inside. “Listen, you can stop with the games now. I know you were probably hired by Jeonghan and Joshua to prank me or something so let’s just say you got me, ok? Ha ha, that was so funny, I totally fell for it, you can go home now.”

“I’m not quite sure who Jeonghan and Joshua are, but I can assure you this is not a joke. This part of the forest belongs to me,” you called out, eyes following Jihoon as he messed around at the entrance of the tent.

“God, why do you have to be so stubborn? Are you seriously not gonna leave until you’re done playing the part? Fine,” Jihoon turned to face you again, faking a surprised look. “Oh, you’re a government official? Please don’t arrest me.” He held his hands up by his head to really sell it.

You did not understand the joke. Instead, you simply straightened your posture and clasped your hands in front of you. “I am not a government official. I am Y/N, a forest nymph.”

There was a pause before Jihoon burst into laughter. He bent forward, clutching his stomach as he laughed and laughed, all while you stood there, watching him blankly.

“You do not believe me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Wow,” Jihoon flicked a tear from his eye. “I don’t know if the hyungs told you to say that or if it was improv. Either way, bravo, you really got me there.” He started to walk towards you. “A forest nymph, now the all white outfit makes sense. How did they get this glow around you, do you have some sort of glow in the dark paint on?” Jihoon reached out as if to touch your forearm.

You stepped back, your right arm shooting out to your side, two fingers flicking upwards as if directing something towards Jihoon. At that very moment, a dark green vine shot up from the ground and wrapped around his wrist, preventing Jihoon’s hand from touching you.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, eyes wide in incredulity as he stared at the vines coiling around his arms and legs. Then he moved his glare to you. “What is going on?”

You brought your hands together in front of your body once more. “As I said, I am a forest nymph. You have not only trespassed on my land, but have also tried to touch me without my consent. In the land of Faerie, this offense is punishable by dismemberment of your arms and legs.” Jihoon began to trash, trying to break free of his binds. “But,” you proclaimed, louder this time. “As you are human, and seem to be unaware of my kind, I shall let you free. However, if you commit another offense towards me, I will not let you go so easily.”

You willed the vines to loosen from Jihoon’s body as he apologized to you. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you were telling the truth. I thought this was all part of a prank my members orchestrated. I didn’t mean to offend you, I mean it,” he rambled, clearly still shaken by what had just transpired.

“You are forgiven. I believe you, so do not fret Human,” you strode towards the logs arranged by the fire, dress fluttering around your ankles as you sat. You gestured to the log next to yours, “Please, sit.”

Jihoon sat, noticing the fire was starting to go down. He looked around for extra firewood, but couldn’t find any. He went to stand up, “Let me go find some more wood for the fire.”

“No need,” you held your hand out to the fire, palm facing up. Jihoon watched the fire grow as you curled your fingers into your hand, mesmerized. You noticed and giggled, your tinkling laughter drawing Jihoon’s attention to your eyes. “You behave as if you've never seen magic before.”

“I haven’t,” Jihoon responded. “I didn’t even know faeries were real. I live in Seoul, so unless there are city nymphs…”

You giggled again and shook your head. “There is no such thing as city nymphs. We faeries prefer to stay in our own land, which is in a dimension separate from the human world. Every once in a while, nymphs, such as myself, like to come to the human world to tend to your nature. Forest nymphs care for the trees, flora nymphs help flowers bloom in the spring, water nymphs keep the freshwater running. Of course, there are many other nymphs, but it would take me much too long to explain, and you would likely be bored after hearing me speak for so long.”

Jihoon, who had been entranced by your voice, shouted, “No!” You jumped, startled by the volume of his voice. “I mean, no, I could never get bored listening to you speak. Please, keep going.” A hand shot up to his mouth as Jihoon blushed. He couldn’t believe he’d said all of that. It was like the words just flowed out of his mouth before he could stop them.

You smiled, adored by this man beside you. “It’s a symptom of being exposed to Faerie magic, the candor. Now that my magic has touched you, you’ll find it a bit difficult to lie to me. It will wear off by morning, so do not worry Sweet Human.”

“It’s Jihoon.” You tilted your head and raised your eyebrows in question. “My name. It’s Jihoon. You can call me Jihoon instead of human.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. “Alright then, Sweet Jihoon.” You gave him a blinding smile.

Jihoon was unsure whether you were flirting with him, or if it was simply faerie practice to use adjectives before people’s names, but either way, he was sure his cheeks were going to stay pink as long as he was around you. He wondered how Jeonghan and Joshua reacted to you. Suddenly, Jihoon felt his chest begin to tighten. The thought of you speaking, possibly flirting, with his brothers made Jihoon feel…jealous? The realization caught him off guard. He barely knew you, yet here he was, getting jealous at the thought of you interacting with someone that wasn’t him.

Stop it, Ji, he thought to himself, stop thinking like an incel and get over yourself.

Jihoon cleared his throat, catching your attention as you turned your face away from the night sky, from the stars you were gazing at. You had a pleasant smile on your face, and for the first time that night, Jihoon noticed you had dimples, as if you were kissed delicately on either cheek by an angel. He felt the sudden urge to do the same.

“You mentioned the two guys from yesterday, Jeonghan and Joshua. Did you…did you speak to them?”

Your eyes turned soft and your face filled with longing as you responded, “No. They were surrounded by an aura of love so strong I do not believe they would’ve noticed anyone else around them. I, too, did not have the heart to bother them, so I let them stay.” Jihoon nodded. That sounded like his hyungs, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to much else. It left Jihoon and the others feeling a bit envious of them and their relationship.

“Jihoon, have you ever been in love?”

Jihoon choked on his saliva, surprised by your sudden question. “C-Come again?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

Your eyes glittered as you looked at him, wide and curious. Jihoon stared back, thinking about your question. “I’ve dated a few girls, I guess, but I wouldn’t say any of it was love. But…” But I might be in love with you, he thought.

You leaned in a bit, “But?”

You smelled clean, like the morning dew after a night of rain. Jihoon wanted it bottled into a perfume so he could smell it wherever he went.

“But,” his eyes flicked down to your lips, plush and pink with a perfect cupid’s bow and a slight dent in the middle of your bottom lip. He gulped, and forced himself to pull away, turning his gaze towards the fire. “But maybe someday…” he trailed off.

He could see you straighten as well from his periphery. A chance glance in your direction told him that you looked slightly disappointed, but he didn’t believe it. Why would you be disappointed by his answer? Why would you care if he was in love?

“What about you? Do faeries fall in love?” Jihoon asked, though he immediately regretted it when you left out a disappointed laugh. The light surrounding you dimmed as a physical indicator of your emotions.

“Faeries mate for life. We believe that Mother Nature has selected a partner for each of us, and we are destined to be together for as long as we live. I suppose humans would call them soulmates.” Your head was bent down, a curtain of shimmering hair hiding your face from Jihoon’s view. You picked at the flower bracelets around your wrists as you spoke. “Everyone in my cohort has met and bonded with their mates. I have not. They all believe the person fated for me does not exist, and I believe the same.” You sniffled, and the sound shattered Jihoon’s heart.

“Y/N,” he said, in an effort to comfort you.

“It’s alright, Jihoon,” you looked up at him with a smile despite the tears that brimmed your eyes. “I have nature, I have my forest. I have the trees and the birds and the insects and the deer. I do not need a faerie mate to be happy. I am alright, will be alright, without one.”

“Or maybe your fated mate isn’t a faerie,” Jihoon mumbled under his breath, hoping you hadn’t heard.

The slight shock on your face said otherwise. “What did you say?”

Jihoon turned to face you completely, looking you in the eyes. “Maybe you aren’t meant to be with a faerie. Look, I don’t know how faerie rules work when it comes to interracial, or I guess inter-species, relationships, but I know this pull I feel towards you isn’t something to be taken lightly. Ever since I saw you, I’ve felt this thrumming in my heart that I’ve never felt before, like it’s calling out to you. I want to hold you and touch you and kiss you. I want to stay up all night and keep talking with you because I’m afraid. Afraid that you won’t be there in the morning. Or worse. That I’ll wake up in the room at the upper house and find out I dreamt the whole thing. I-” Jihoon broke off with a smile, a small laugh escaping his lips when he saw the astonished look on your face. He reached a hand out, as if to touch your face, before dropping it back down to his lap. “You asked me if I’d ever been in love. I think I might be right now. I think I might be in love with you.”

The air around you was charged and silent. Even the plants and fauna were still, as if awaiting your answer with a bated breath. After about ten seconds had passed, Jihoon was a bit anxious. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. Maybe this was all too much for you, finding out that a mere human was in love with you. What was he thinking, proclaiming his love to a faerie. You’re a whole otherworldly being, way out of his league! What if you were disgusted? Oh God, what if you decided to take him to Faerieland so he could be punished? What if-

Cool, soft hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him from his thoughts. All he got was a glimpse of glimmering eyes before he felt soft lips being pressed into his. He froze. You were kissing him. You were really kissing him. Your lips, soft as rose petals, were on his own. Until they weren’t.

You had pulled away, unsure of your actions considering Jihoon wasn’t kissing you back. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, hands still on his face. “Was I not supposed to do that?”

Jihoon couldn’t help but laugh, his right hand coming up to cup your cheek while the other tucked a lock of silky hair behind your ear. “It was perfect. Can we kiss again?”

You nodded, shyly, letting Jihoon pull you into another kiss. This time, he kissed back, the pressure giving you the courage to move your lips against his own. You gasped when Jihoon’s arms circled your waist, pulling you plush against his chest. You moved your hands to rest on his broad shoulders, your fingers playing with the tips of his hair that curled on the nape of his neck. Jihoon kissed you for what felt like hours before he pulled away, chest heaving as he took big breaths.

“How are you not out of breath?” Jihoon asked in bewilderment.

You simply shrugged, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, awed by how those lips had made you feel more pleasure in a few minutes than you had in your entire lifetime. “I suppose it’s another faerie skill.”

You squealed in delight when Jihoon picked you up and twirled you around. “You are mind blowing, you know that?” He kissed your forehead after setting you down on your feet. “Amazing. Fuck, I think I really love you.”

You took a hold of Jihoon’s wrist, bringing his palm to your chest, above your heart. Then, you placed your own hand on his. You closed your eyes, concentrating on the beat of his heart. Jihoon watched you silently, his eyes flitting over your face as he committed your features to memory. The brush of your eyelashes against your cheekbones, the gentle slope of your nose, the freckles that dotted your skin. After a few seconds, your eyes shot open, a big grin on your face.

“Do you feel that?” you asked, in excitement.

“Your heartbeat?”

You nodded quickly, “Yes! It matches your own.”

Jihoon focused on your hand on his chest, trying to feel his own pulse as it tapped a rhythm against your palm. Each heart beat of his was identical to yours. As your heart picked up speed the more excited you got, his did the same.

“That’s so cool! What does that mean?” he was smiling widely, your elation contagious.

“It’s how we identify when two people belong to one another in Faerie. Their hearts beat as one. Jihoon,” you were bouncing on your feet now. “We are fated.”

Jihoon could do nothing but dive in to kiss you again. You were laughing as you kissed him, unable to hold back your glee. “I love you,” Jihoon mumbled against your lips. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you,” you responded, with equal fervor. Faeries did not tell each other of their love. They found no use for words when their hearts proved it. Still, you told Jihoon you loved him in hopes that it would make him as happy to hear it as it did you.

“Jihoon, my sweet Jihoon,” you looked dazed, as if drunk on the kisses you shared. “Will you show me how much you love me?”

Jihoon, enraptured by the sound of my Jihoon, responded, “Of course, my love, I’ve been showing you all this time.” He bent to rest his head in the crook of your neck, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your back as he placed a kiss on your collarbone, exposed by the neckline of your dress.

“No,” you whispered, breath tickling the shell of Jihoon’s ear as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I want you to show me the way the men from last night showed each other. Your friends. As the night went on, the aura around them grew stronger. I want to be loved like that, however they loved each other.”

Jihoon’s body stiffened, before he groaned into your neck. “Fuck, you can’t just say things like that Faerie.”

You pushed Jihoon’s body up so you could look at him. “Why not? What did I say wrong?” You held his hands in yours.

“Nothing, it’s just- well they-” Jihoon stumbled over his words, a bit embarrassed now that he has to have the birds and the bees talk with you. Unsure of how to broach the topic he decided to go right for it. “Do you know what intercourse is?” Jihoon’s face was flushed bright red, his hands turning clammy in your grip.

“Of course,” you affirmed with a nod.

“Well,” Jihoon gave you a look.

You stared for a second before recognition lit in your eyes. You smiled. “Oh!” Your smile dropped. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon said, dumbly.

“But, I do not understand. Were your friends trying to have a child?”

Jihoon spluttered. “What?? No! Of course not!”

“Then why be intimate?” You asked him, innocently. Jihoon sighed. The cultural differences surrounding intimacy must be far more different than he anticipated.

“Here,” he tugged at your intertwined hands. The fire has almost completely died by now. “Let’s sit in the tent where it’s warmer and I’ll explain.”

Jihoon ushered you inside, zipping the tent closed before sitting down on the blankets opposite you. “What’s the traditional practice in Faerie, if you want to…procreate,” he cringed internally at his odd word choice.

You did not seem thrown off, however. “After faeries find their mates, they have a ceremony, similar to a human wedding ceremony. The faeries will combine their auras, which allows them to share their powers and essentially become one unified entity. Then, there will be a mating ritual, in which they are intimate. Their auras are most powerful immediately after the ceremony, so that one night is enough to create a child. Faeries do not have more than one.” You explained, methodically.

Jihoon nodded. “Ok, so Faeries aren’t intimate for pleasure?”

You shook your head, “I suppose not. Humans are, I presume?”

“Yes. Many humans see intercourse as a means of seeking pleasure first, and reproduction second. There are medical advancements that can prevent pregnancy, so humans can be intimate without worrying about children. The guys from last night…They are intimate because they love each other. Make sense?” Jihoon searched your face for a hint of confusion.

“I understand!” you chirped. “Are you someone who correlates intimacy to love, Jihoon?”

At this point Jihoon has no choice but to assume that you say things to make him blush on purpose. “I mean, yeah, I- I guess so,” he stuttered, a complete opposite to your eloquent way of speech.

“Then, I would like you to be intimate with me.”

His breath hitched. “My love,” Jihoon started, hesitantly. “Are you sure? There’s no rush, we can take things slowly-”

You moved closer to him, your knees pressed against his. “Sweet Jihoon,” you held his hands, stroking the backs of them with your thumbs. “I am unsure what will become of us tomorrow. I must return to Faerie in the morning, and you live in the city, so you will eventually leave as well. I do not want to wait in hopes of a day that may not come soon, if at all. I do not wish to dampen the mood, but it is the harsh truth. That is why I want to do this now. I want to love you completely. Tonight.”

Your eyes were blazing, the grip on his hands firm. You meant what you said. You would not let Jihoon go tonight, not like this.

“You have to know, I’d do anything for you Y/N. I’d leave Seoul, hell, I’d leave this dimension for you. I’d go to Faerie, go wherever you want,” Jihoon rambled.

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Hush. We can talk about it all later. Right now,” you leaned in, bumping the tip of his nose with your own, “I want you to…fuck me.”

Your yelp of surprise was swallowed by Jihoon when he surged forward to kiss you. The force pushed you back and you were laying flat on the blankets, Jihoon hovering over your body, his hands braced by your shoulders. You pushed him up with a press to his chest, unable to hold back giggles.

“What was that for?”

“Where did you learn to say that, you little minx?” Jihoon moved to press butterfly soft kisses to the slope of your neck, moving up towards your ear.

“I heard,” you gasped at a particularly biting kiss, “I heard the blonde man from yesterday tell his partner that. He seemed to like hearing it.” Your hands were now clasped against your chest as you were unsure what to do with them.

Jihoon teasingly bit your earlobe. “Ah, didn’t know my innocent forest nymph was actually a voyeur.”

“Jihoon,” you slapped at his shoulder, scandalized. Jihoon pulled away, sitting back on his heels as he laughed. “It was not as if I meant to intrude! I did not know about human customs of love.” There was a slight pout on your lips, as you turned your head to the side, pointedly looking away from Jihoon in embarrassment.

He couldn’t help but place a kiss on your reddening cheek. “Cute,” he mumbled. “I’m just teasing, Faerie.” He held your chin with two of his fingers and turned you back to face him. “I think you’re cute,” his voice dropped a few pitches, seductively. “Bet you sat up in those trees, listening, wishing it was you that they were touching, hm?” Jihoon ran his fingers up your right leg, tickling your calves. You whimpered. “My poor Faerie felt so lonely. Thought she’d never find someone. But I’m here now,” he pressed a kiss in the dip between your collarbones, “I’ll take care of you baby.”

By now, your dress was rucked up by your knees, Jihoon’s hand splayed out against your thigh. Your hands were tangled in his curls, the grip allowing you to tug him back to your lips. “Jihoon, please,” you whined.

Jihoon held you by your shoulders as he pulled you up to sit on his lap, your legs wrapping around his hips. “Can I take your dress off?” he asked as he toyed with the straps of your dress. You nodded, demurely. Jihoon slipped the cloth off your right shoulder, pressing a kiss to your skin before doing the same on the other side. Like water, the dress slid down your chest, bunching at your waist when the straps caught on your forearms. You pointedly kept your eyes trained on the neckline of Jihoon’s shirt, feeling a bit too self-conscious to look him in the eyes. Jihoon must’ve understood this.

“Breathtaking,” he said, trailing a finger along your face, down the side of your neck. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my love.” His finger dipped into the valley of your breasts before twirling around your left nipple. You whimpered, the sound morphing into a moan when he took the other nipple into his mouth. Your body felt warm and the bottom of your feet were tingling. You’d never felt so good before. Had never imagined you could ever feel like this.

Jihoon moved to kiss you again as he laid you back down on the ground, helping slip your dress off your body. Even though it had only been a few hours, you were sure you’d never tire of kissing Jihoon.

You grew more and more impatient as Jihoon slipped his tongue into your mouths, pulling desperately at his clothes. “Why are you wearing so many layers?” Jihoon found your eagerness endearing, the way you wanted his clothes off his body but refused to let him part from your mouth. Somehow, after a few failed attempts and limbs getting awkwardly caught in fabric, you were both naked, bodies pressed tightly together.

Your arms were gripped like a vice around Jihoon’s neck, loudly whining as you bucked your hips up, trying to find some sort of friction.

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you,” Jihoon chuckled, tauntingly. “Looked so innocent when I first saw you, but you’re really just aching for cock.” Your mewl was indication enough that you liked the way Jihoon was speaking to you.

“Please, need it. Need you in me now!” you begged. It was too much for Jihoon. The way your hair was splayed around your head like a halo, the way your skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat from the heat, the way your neck and chest were red from his ministrations. As his gaze slid down your body, he took note of your heaving chest, the smooth skin of your belly, the way your pussy was dripping wet. He couldn't take it anymore.

“Already so ready for me baby. Don’t even need my fingers or my mouth on you, do you? Bet I could slip right in.”

“Yes,” you wailed. “Please, put it in, please-” you broke off with a cry, hands shooting to grip at Jihoon’s biceps as he pushed into you with a single thrust.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Faerie, did I hurt you, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, felt good, don’t stop Jihoonie,” you babbled, desperate for more.

Slowly, he pulled out, moving until just the head of his cock was still in you before pushing back in. The strokes were gentle and languid. Your heat was so warm and tight, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Jihoon dropped his head to your neck, licking and kissing at the skin there as you dug your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Jihoon,” you moaned, feeling overstimulated by the feeling of his lips on your skin, his hands stroking your body, his cock inside you. “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”

“Never,” he said vehemently. He pressed his forehead to yours. “Wanna be with you forever. Wanna be inside you forever. Never letting you go after this.”

You cant your hips up to his, the feeling of your clit grazing his skin adding an extra level of pleasure.

“Jihoon, feel something, feel pressure,” you gasped.

Jihoon slipped a hand between your bodies, pressing delicate circles against your clit. “That’s it Faerie, let go. Come for me,” his voice was breathy and strained, as if trying to hold himself together.

You let out a loud, long-winded moan as you came, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Vivid colors splashed like fireworks against the back of your tightly shut eyes. You threw your head back, arching your body up as if chasing more, more, more.

You vaguely felt Jihoon pull away, and whined pathetically, too enveloped in this newfound sense of pleasure to do much else. Your chest heaved as you slowly regained awareness, prying your eyes open. The world was blurry, and you realized your eyes were filled with tears. You saw Jihoon begin to stand, and whined as he walked away.

“Not going anywhere, baby,” he chuckled. “Just gonna clean you up.” He grabbed a washcloth from his bag and wiped away the sweat and fluid on your body. He tossed the cloth to a corner of the tent, along with the blanket he was sitting on that seemed to be stained with something white.

Jihoon laid down beside you, gathering you in his arms. You whimpered a bit, your skin sensitive everywhere, as if every nerve ending was exposed to Jihoon’s touch. Your head rested against his heart as you traced silly patterns on his abdomen.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Jihoon said, the vibration of his chest tickling your cheek. “I want to stay with you. I don’t want to leave.”

You sighed. “I know, my sweet, but we must part. It is inevitable. We are from different worlds. However,” you lifted your head, “I have a plan. I will request an audience with the Queen come morning, and request to give up my powers, so that I may become human.”

Jihoon began to argue, “No, Y/N, I can’t ask you to do that.”

You shook your head firmly. “You are not asking me for anything. This is my decision. There is nothing waiting for me in Faerie, Jihoon. I do not have family, and anyone who I would consider a friend has a mate of their own. Here, in the human world, I have you.” You placed a hand gently to his heart, letting the steady beat relax you. “I want to be with you. Eat with you, sleep with you. I want to meet your friends and your family. I want to build a life with you here. That is all I desire.”

Jihoon still looked hesitant, worried that you may not completely understand the depth of what you were saying. “Y/N, to give up the only world, the only life, you’ve ever known…are you sure you want that? Are there no consequences?”

You cut him off with a kiss. “That is nothing for you to worry your beautiful head about. For now, let us sleep.”

Jihoon watched curiously as you placed a hand to the bottom of the tent. Suddenly, the ground beneath him started to feel soft, as if he was laying on a cloud, not solid ground. Through the white cloth, he could faintly see the yellow and green shades of moss and grass growing to create a makeshift bed. You laid back down, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Good night, Sweet Jihoon.”

You awoke at the first sign of daybreak the next morning. It was time to return to Faerie, but you were in high spirits. You have a purpose this time: to fight for your freedom and return to Jihoon.

You gently brushed the strands of hair away from his forehead as you cooed his name to wake him. Jihoon’s eyes fluttered open, lips splitting into a wide grin when he caught sight of you.

“Morning beautiful,” his voice was raspy and deep. You felt the sudden urge to repeat last night’s events. You clambered to your feet, dusting off the skirt of your dress you had thrown on when you woke up. No, there was no time to fall back into the sheets with your lover. You had a job to do.

“It’s time for me to go,” you said, faintly, holding Jihoon’s hand as you led him out of the tent into the cool morning air. He then wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you, lips slightly chapped from the chilly night air.

“When can I see you again?” He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Give me one year. In exactly one year’s time, I will be here again, whether it be with good news or bad news. Should the Queen grant my wish, I shall return home with you. Should the Queen not grant my wish…” you looked away, “I will return for just an hour, to tell you goodbye.”

Jihoon nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say to change your mind. “One year then. I’ll be here, waiting.”

As you stared at the grass, something caught your eye. Quickly, you bent down to pluck a lone dandelion flower from the ground. After analyzing it for a while, you placed it in the palm of your hand, enveloping the flower with shimmering white light. Then, you twisted the stem into a ring, before taking Jihoon’s left hand, and sliding the flower ring onto his pinky finger, opposite the silver ring on his other hand. “This flower is enchanted, and will never wilt. I hope it will serve as a reminder of me, so you never forget this time we shared.”

Jihoon caught your hands, holding them tightly. “You know I will never forget you. But, thank you. I will treasure it forever.”

You nodded, eyes welling with tears as you leaned in to press one last kiss to Jihoon’s lips. “See you in one year, my Sweet Jihoon.”

You stepped back, fingers slipping from his hold.

“See you in a year.”

With that you turned to walk into the forest. Jihoon watched until your silhouette disappeared into thin air.

“Hyung!” Seungkwan called, shaking Jihoon out of his stupor. Somehow, he had walked all the way from the camp back to the main houses. He didn’t remember a single moment of the trek. “You’re back! Come on, we have to wrap up shooting!”

Oh, that’s right, the broadcast, Jihoon thought, desolately. We are going back to Seoul tonight.

Jihoon silently trudged into the upper house, all his members watching.

“What happened to him?” Seungcheol demanded, glaring at Jeonghan accusingly.

The blonde held his hands up defensively. “Me? Why do you assume I did something?”

“You’re the one who sent him to the tent last night! Now look, he came back more depressed than ever!”

Jeonghan glanced at Joshua, the two sharing a silent look of confusion. “We’ll go check on him,” the latter said to placate Seungcheol.

Together, the two boys went into the house, noticing Jihoon belly flopped onto the bed.

“Oh, Jihoonie, what’s wrong?” Jeonghan sat on the edge of the bed, patting the younger reassuringly on the back.

Jihoon mumbled something incoherent into the pillows.

The two older boys exchanged another glance, as if urging the other to say something. Finally, Joshua sighed. “We thought you would’ve enjoyed the company waiting at the campsite. That’s why Jeonghan sent you there last night. We are really sorry if that was the wrong call.”

Jihoon shot up straight, turning to level his members with a glare. “What do you mean by company? You two knew? About Y/N?!”

“Ah, so that’s her name,” Jeonghan said. “We noticed a girl sitting, well hiding, up in the trees when we first got there. She had this mystical air around her, we figured she was something nonhuman.” He turned to Joshua, who shrugged.

“Yeah and, I don’t know, she seemed so lonely. Reminded us of you, so we thought why not have you go the next night? If she returned, you’d meet. If not, then you’d get some good rest. So, win-win.” He then climbed onto the bed to take a seat by Jihoon, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a side hug. “What happened last night Ji?”

Jihoon began to recount the story to the two men, starting from when he met you to when you left. All of it. By the end, Joshua was giving him a sympathetic hug, while Jeonghan had a determined look in his eyes.

“Well,” the blonde clapped his hands together. “Looks like we have no choice but to return next year then!” He shot Jihoon a wink. “Let me go tell the other boys!” He ran from the room.

Jihoon stared with his mouth wide open as Joshua sighed. “What he means to say is, we’ll set up a meeting with the producers. No matter what, we’ll get you back here in a year so you can see her Jihoon. It seems like Y/N is pretty optimistic that everything is going to work out, so you should be too.” With one final caring pat to the back of his head, Joshua too left the room.

As Jihoon sat alone, thinking about what his brothers had said, he heard raucous laughter and cheering coming from outside. It seemed like Jeonghan had told everyone else the news about them returning. Jihoon let out an endeared laugh. He knew that he would have to tell the rest of the boys about you, and that they would be nothing but supportive. Jihoon stood from the bed, his confidence in seeing you again growing.

In a year, he’d return here and bring you home with him. With a hopeful smile, he placed a kiss on his flower ring and headed out to meet his friends.

#seventeen #kpop #fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fic #seventeen fic #lee jihoon #lee woozi #woozi #woozi x reader #seventeen woozi #jihoon x reader #jihoon fluff #jihoon smut #woozi fluff #woozi smut

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kpop-stories-21 · 10 months

Text

A Boyfriend For Christmas

Group: Stray Kids

Pairing: Han x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres, Tropes, & AUs: Non-Idol AU, College AU, Romance AU, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut

Content & Trigger Warnings: Barista!Han, Student!Reader, strong language, unprotected sex(wrap that shit up kids), manhandling, oral sex(f receiving), edging, slight degradation, slight dumbification, intense orgasm, aftercare, after-sex cuddles

Summary: Telling your parents you had a boyfriend always kept them off your back about settling down. Now that they're coming up for Christmas your lie is about to be exposed. Luckily, Fate takes pity on you and has you running into a cute barista who captures your heart.

Tags: @kpop---scenarios @stardragongalaxy @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @trashlord-007 @liliesofdreams @rdiamond2727 @naturalogre @millennial-fangirl @twisted-tales-of-all @yoonguurt @staytinyville @dimpledsatan @kwanisms SKZ Tags: @lovelyhange

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Network pings: @kdiarynet | @cultofdionysusnet

Collab Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Yes, Mom, I'm doing fine.” You sighed into the phone, rolling your eyes at her ill-founded concern.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me young lady.” Your mother scolded. “I’m just looking out for your wellbeing.”

“I know Mom, I know.” You admitted grudgingly. “Anyway, before you ask, my studies are going fine as well.”

“Good! Just remember, if at any point you want to change your major, you can go to your father’s friend Mr. Kim.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You said, knowing full well that you never would.

Just then your roommate Karina poked her head in and eyed you expectantly. You nodded in acknowledgement and began to end the call with your mother.

“I gotta go now Mom.”

“Okay sweetie. I’ll call back soon, I want to hear more about this new boyfriend of yours!”

Once you hung up, Karina stepped into your room.

“Still stalling her with the new boyfriend bit?” She inquired.

You nodded. “They haven’t questioned it so far.”

“Are they still planning to come up for Christmas?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“So you have until then to find a guy?”

You frowned. “It’s either that or admit I’ve been lying, and that will not go over well.”

“Well, I wish you luck.” She said warmly. “I’m getting ready to head back home, you sure you’ll be alright staying here by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine Rina.” You say with a grin. “I can take care of myself.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Karina teased.

You laughed and chucked a pillow at her. “You better get going before your mom assumes you missing and calls the army.”

“Okay, Y/N! See you next year!”

After Karina left you fell into the same routine you always did, spending most of the day in the dorm room except for the few times you went outside to get coffee or takeout. A few weeks passed, and then came the dreaded call from your mother, announcing that she and your father would be coming up soon to spend Christmas with you.

Panic began to set in, and as you walked to the corner coffee shop one morning you wondered if you should maybe download Tinder or some other dating app. You were so lost in thought you failed to see the figure right in front of you until it was too late and you found yourself tumbling to the concrete, limbs tangled with those of whoever you had crashed into.

Looking up, you found yourself inches away from the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. Eyes wide, the two of you just stared at each other for several moments until he finally snapped out of his daze and stood, brushing himself off before offering his hand. You took it and he gently pulled you to your feet.

“I am so, so sorry “ He began, remorse clear on his face. “I have a terrible habit of not watching where I'm going.”

You smiled comfortingly. “No, no, the fault is mine. My mind was elsewhere and I didn't even see you until we collided. It's me who should be apologising.”

He chuckled lightly. “Alright then. I happen to work at a coffee shop nearby, can I at least buy you a coffee or something to make it up to you?”

You needed no hesitation to answer his question. “You had me at coffee! I was heading to my favourite coffee shop anyway.”

“Perfect!” He exclaimed, smiling so widely his eyes disappeared.

“My name's Han Jisung, by the way. Most people just call me Han because they know at least one other Jisung.”

You grinned. “I'm Park Y/N and I happen to fall into that category as well! Nice to meet you, Han.”

As you walked you fell into a comfortable conversation with Han. He was easy to talk to, listening intently while also inserting little jokes and puns at the most opportune moments. Before you knew it the two of you were standing in front of the very coffee shop you’d been heading to before you ran into Han.

You were surprised, sure that you would have remembered seeing him there before. “You work here?!” You exclaimed. “I come here all the time, how come I’ve never seen you before?”

Han grinned. “I’ve only been here about a week, I’m kinda new in town.”

You nodded understandingly. “Ah, that would explain it.”

Han opened the door for you, making you blush a bit as you walked in. You’d been here enough times that you knew all the staff by name and considered them friends, so you received several greetings as Han stepped in behind you.

“Hey Han, you’re a bit early today.” Felix called out, blond hair in its usual ponytail.

“Yeah, me and Y/N here had a bit of a collision so I said I’d buy her a coffee to make up for it.”

Minho smirked mischievously. “Well I’m surprised she didn’t kiss you for that, Y/N-ah really loves her coffee.”

You glared at the brunette playfully. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Min.”

“I thought it was quite funny.” Black-haired Hyunjin quipped as he walked by.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he returned the gesture, stopping only when Jeongin started to complain about how grossed-out he was.

After ordering your coffee you sat down in a corner booth, watching fondly as they all teased poor Han about being perfect “boyfriend material” for you. Once they’d left him alone he came to join you, conversation picking right back up like nothing had ever happened.

Students and other people came in and out, oblivious as you talked with Han until his shift started. By the time you decided you should leave, the sun was already starting to set. You gaped at the time on your phone, shocked that you’d been out all day. Gathering your things you bid farewell to Han and your friends, and hurried back to your dorm.

Once back inside, you pondered your encounter with Han. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him extremely good-looking, and you were secretly hoping he’d feel the same. You’d never really believed in love at first sight, but there was no denying the instant attraction you felt when you made eye contact with him. It was worth pursuing at least, especially with your parents’ visit looming ever closer.

By the end of the following week you had exchanged numbers with Han, and hope was growing within you that maybe he felt something for you too. Having a boyfriend in time for your parents’ arrival was the last thought on your mind now, 90% of your brain was taken up with Han and how you felt about him.

One day you woke up feeling rather bold, and decided to just get it over with. Shooting him a quick text revealed he was free, and so you asked him to meet you at the wishing fountain near the coffee shop. He arrived there mere seconds after you did, curiosity written all over his face.

“Hey Y/N! Your text seemed kind of urgent, is everything okay?”

You nodded briefly. “Yeah, mostly. However, there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh? Ask away then.”

Taking a deep breath, you blurted it out before you lost your nerve. “I really like you and I was wondering if it was at all possible that you like me too.”

Something akin to relief flashed across Han’s features, then he took your hands in his and held them tight. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you this very same question, but it seems you’ve beaten me to it.” Looking you right in the eyes he added, “Yes, I like you Y/N; so, so much. From the very moment we ran into each other you have been almost the only thing I’ve thought about.”

You blushed, feeling suddenly like a teenager speaking with her crush. “I’ve been the same way.” You admitted, which made Han smile brightly.

Leaning forward a little you caught his eyes and asked softly, “Can you kiss me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He remarked cheekily.

You smacked his arm playfully and he chuckled, pulling you close and covered your lips with his own. Fireworks exploded behind your closed eyes as your heart rate picked up, and you gripped his shoulders in an effort to ground yourself.

You parted after a moment, both of you breathing a little harder.

“That was…breathtaking.” Han murmured, hands coming up to gently cup your face.

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” You replied with a smile.

After that the rest of the week became a bit of a blur, most of your time spent either with Han or packing for the trip to the family cabin where you’d spend Christmas with your parents. You’d expected Han to go back and spend the holidays with his own family, but he insisted they wouldn’t mind if he went with you this time. So you soon found yourself driving those all-too-familiar roads while Han sat in the passenger seat and kept you company.

Upon arriving at the family cabin, you were surprised to find that your parents weren’t already there. Usually they would get there early to make sure the place was nice and cosy by the time you arrived, but this time they were nowhere in sight. Once you and Han carried all the luggage in you checked the answering machine to see if your parents had left a message. They had, and you played it immediately.

“Y/N sweetie, it’s your mother. We had a bit of an accident on the way here so we’re laid over for a few days until we can get the car repaired. Don’t worry about us, we’re both fine. You just have fun with your boyfriend and we’ll see you in a couple days!”

You turned off the machine and looked at Han. “Well, looks like we have the place to ourselves for a few days. What should we do?”

Han thought for a few minutes, then said “I have a few ideas, but they’ll all have to wait until the morning.”

You glanced at the time. “It is pretty late, I’ll fix us something for dinner and we can start our adventure in the morning.”

Han agreed to this and you set about fixing a quick meal of bibimbap, which he declared was the best he’d ever had. The two of you washed the dishes together, then retired to your room, where you unpacked and got ready for bed.

When you woke up in the morning it was freezing. Confused and more than a little concerned, you woke Han and together you made your way to the living room to look out the big picture window. To your utter chagrin, you saw that there’d been a massive snowstorm overnight and there was a thick layer of the stuff that reached halfway up said window.

“Seems we’re snowed in for the foreseeable future.” You grumbled, rubbing your arms vigorously to keep them warm.

“Hey, it’s not all bad.” Han stated as he came up behind you, engulfing you in his warmth as he wrapped his arms around you. “I can think of a few things we can still do.”

You looked up at him, curious. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like…make breakfast together.”

You giggled and let him pull you towards the kitchen. “That sounds like a good place to start.”

Han, as it turned out, should not be allowed anywhere near a kitchen; a fact you only discovered after he put too much molasses in the cookies, dropped the jar trying to put some back, slipped on the sticky floor and pulled you down with him as the bowl of dry ingredients was dumped all over the both of you.

Sitting on the floor covered in multiple white powders with several sticky patches all over, you turned to a sheepish Han and gave him a playful glare. “You are banished forthwith from the kitchen, under pain of death.”

Han rubbed his neck, embarrassed. Then a look full of mischief came onto his face and he yanked his shirt off in one smooth motion, reaching over to do the same with yours. Before you could react or even open your mouth to complain, he had snatched you up and tossed you over his shoulder, all but running to your shared bedroom. You were dumped unceremoniously onto the slightly cool duvet, goosebumps popping up all over your skin at the contrast in temperature.

Looking up revealed Han hovering over you, eyes dark as he gazed down at you. A shock of arousal raced to your core, and you returned his gaze with rapidly growing want while quickly shucking off your sweatpants.

“You look so pretty laid out like this, baby.” He rasped, running his hands over the blue lace of your bra and panties.

“Wore them just for you.” You breathed, feeling your body heat up even more as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your panties. “They’re an early C-Christmas present.”

“How thoughtful of you, baby. Now you just lay back and let me unwrap my present.”

The panties came off in one swift yank; then he hooked your legs over his shoulders and slid his tongue into your wet folds, eating you out like a man starved.

“Oh G-God, feels s-so good Han, please don't stop!”

His nose pressed against your clit as he continued his ministrations, bringing you to the edge three or four times but never letting you cum.

You were an overstimulated mess by this point, pitifully begging for your orgasm as if your life depended on it.

“Look at you baby, already going dumb and I haven't even fucked you yet. If you hold it till I finish, then I'll let you cum. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, I can do it, I promise. Just please, please fuck me!” You babbled, mind blank aside from the overwhelming need for release.

“As you wish, my love.” He replied, making short work of his own pants and underwear before hovering over you once more, filling you to the hilt in one quick thrust that punched a sob of pure pleasure from your lungs, fingers wrapping the duvet in a death grip as you fought to hold back your orgasm.

Han set a rough pace, pounding into you with an urgency that belied his own imminent high. The sounds of squelching and slapping skin filled the room, the air permeated with the smell of sex and sweat. It made for a heady mixture of sensations that had your eyes rolling back as his thrusts grew faster, until finally he slammed into you one final time. Lips brushed your ear as he spoke the words you'd been waiting for: “Come for me baby.”

You let go, the world washing white as your limbs went stiff and liquid bliss flooded your veins, a hoarse scream ripping from your throat as your climax crashed over you. After a few moments that felt like forever, you began to come down, the white quickly replaced with black as you fully passed out.

You came to and found Han cleaning both of you as well as the duvet, a relieved smile appearing when he saw that you were awake. “Hey baby.” He murmured, kissing your forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Like I've been fucked into next year.” You whispered, voice almost completely gone. Han chuckled and pulled you under the duvet with him, wrapping around you to help keep you warm.

“Merry Christmas, my sweet Y/N.” He breathed, caressing your cheek.

“Merry Christmas to you too, my handsome Hannie.”

#cultofdionysusnet #fanfic #16 days of smutmas 2023 #MochaMadness:ThePerfectPair23 #kdiarynet #sandsofirenet #stray kids #han x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids han #han smut #han fluff #maturefanfic #18-21+#au

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 months

Text

if it isn't real, why does the sun still burn?

Chapter masterlist

Summary : Like most people visiting this tag. You have always dreamed of meeting Nagito Komaeda for real, what you would do, what you would say? Things don’t go as planned.

AKA: Reader from our universe ends up in danganronpa and is just trying her best to keep everyone alive. and maybe to make komaeda kiss her.

Contains: she/her pronouns, explicit sexual content, voyeurism

Read on Ao3

“Basically, we have an update.” Naegi says through Monomi’s face.

You had only just gotten home from the beach when the rabbit teleported herself into your room and Naegi started speaking to you in serious tones without even so much as a hello. You hadn't even had a chance to properly dry off, but things had turned so serious so quickly that you could hardly spare a thought for your slowly dampening carpet.

You push some of your salty hair out of your eyes, trying to ignore your racing nerves, “What kind of update are we talking?”

The almost immediate jump between your gentle flirtations with Komaeda to this incredibly serious conversation with the survivors of the previous killing game has you more than a little discombobulated. In all honesty, you had been planning to get home and jerk off about the Komaeda situation, so that only adds to the concoction of very confusing emotions that you are currently saddled with.

In a move that does not help your already electrified nerves. Togami decides to take the wheel for the first time ever , and hearing his voice come out of that rabbit makes you want to combust, “We are currently unable to get the second island open.” He begins, “It appears that upon ascertaining your goals, Enoshima has rerouted a substantial amount of her power to ensure that the island stays closed for good.”

That feels good. For all her posturing, you are getting to Enoshima. She is scared of you, at least a little.

“Luckily, this rerouting means less effort is being put towards keeping the other islands sealed. We should be able to open one of them.” A beat, “Based on the work you have been doing, we’ve all agreed that you should be the one to choose which one, if any.”

“Jesus, um, this isn't really an easy choice.” You say. Worrying your lower lip and beginning to pace back and forth. This is both good and bad news, in a weird way. Monokuma is absolutely going to take advantage of whichever island you open, but progress is still progress, no matter how you look at it.

You stop mid pace, suddenly remembering the quandary you had been puzzling over this morning, about how to handle despair disease should it actually be released. With a nervous smile, you turn to face Monomi where she still stands in your room, arms crossed over her chest in a Togami-like fashion.

“Before I make a decision…” You begin, “If, theoretically, Enoshima was planning to release a terrible, deadly and highly contagious disease with unpredictable symptoms and horrific implications for survival on this little slice of paradise.” You laugh, for some reason, “Could you do anything about it?”

Togami only says, “What.”

“That’s the next motive.” You clarify, “Monokuma calls it despair disease, and unfortunately it’s not really something I can handle from my end.”

Togami thinks it over for a moment, and then Monomi shakes her head, “We can’t easily prevent something like that with nothing to go off. Unless you can tell me what that disease looks like as code, which I’m assuming you can’t, then we are shit out of luck as always.” You don’t appreciate Togami’s tone. There is little to appreciate about Togami when his legs are out of view, “Okay, then…could you reverse engineer it? Once the code activates, find a way to… un- activate it?”

Togami scoffs, “You have such a way with words.”

“Yeah, well.” You cross your arms, “I like Imposter Togami-san better.” Monomi raises a tiny fist in your direction, and her eyes look as angry as the plush can manage, “You take that back! You-” “Byakuya.'' Kirigiri chides from somewhere in the background and Monomi returns to her default pose. Togami clears his throat, “Theoretically, yes. If the code is active, we could then order Alter Ego to counter it with some code of their own rendering Enoshima’s manipulation obsolete. Though, as with anything in an OS as complex as the NWPs, it would take some time.”

You sit on the couch, not even thinking about how the salt water might ruin the fabric, “I could stall for time, that’s the only thing I’m good at really.” you chew on your lower lip for a moment, “Could you make certain people immune to the disease, maybe?” Monomi shakes her head, and Togami says, “That would be more fine tuning than ending the code at the root, a waste of time.”

“Okay.” You say, more to yourself than to Togami, “In that case, I think we should open the third island. There’s a hospital there, and I’m certain that with a bit of foresight I can encourage Tsumiki-san to be more preemptively vigilant. Luckily I have foresight in spades, it’s kinda the only thing I have going for me.”

“It will take us a few hours to get the island open, we can try and have it done by breakfast tomorrow morning. Usami will let you and the others know when it’s done.”

You nod and then let your head hang loose. You’re tired, and there is going to be so much work for you to do tomorrow. It feels strange to thank the coronavirus for anything, but it is the reason you know anything at all about preventing the spread of infection. That, and a recent obsession with everyone’s favourite plague simulator: Pathologic. Regardless, you presume that the first three infected will always get the disease no matter what, even with all the protection in the world, so there is little you can do on that front. You can, however, make sure Tsumiki doesn’t catch it, and that will be the most important thing.

“Um, excuse me?” It’s Naegi’s voice coming from Monomi again. You lift your head to look at the rabbit, “I think we’ve been very patient with you until now, and I don't want to be pushy, but we’d all like some answers, you know?” You swallow thickly, “Answers…about what?”

Monomi nervously rubs her cheek with a paw, “Well, about how you know everything. We’re far beyond expecting any sort of betrayal from you at this point, I mean, we’ve been watching you almost all the time and we can tell you don’t want anyone inside the simulation getting hurt, but we’re still curious.”

You feel sick. It must show on your face, because Monomi takes a few steps closer and Naegi says, “You don’t have to tell us right now” then, from somewhere in the background Togami corrects, “Yes she does , Makoto.”

That makes you laugh, which is nice. You dismiss Naegi’s concern with a wave of your hand and take a deep breath to try and eliminate the nausea, “No no, it’s okay. I should tell you, I just don’t really know how to explain it myself and uh, I’m kind of not even sure you’ll believe me.”

“We are quite used to believing impossible things.” Kirigiri says, “I’m sure it will be fine.” You inhale a breath through your nose, and clasp your hands together to stop them shaking, “Alright…well, a lot of this is going to be speculative, I honestly don’t know all that much about how I got here but I’ll try my best. I um, I think that I am from an alternate universe, or something similar.”

Monomi nods slowly, even though she doesn’t speak, you get the sense that Kirigiri is still at the helm.

“In my universe, Ultimates as you have them, aren't really a thing? There are certainly people who are talented, and scouted to specific schools for that talent, but there isn’t like, one big school where all the talented people go, and these people aren’t really designated titles or anything.” You take a breath, wondering how much you actually need to explain, “Also the tragedy didn't happen, that’s a big thing. How I got from there to here is the part I’m a bit lost on, as far as I remember I just fell asleep and then woke up in the program.” “Alright, then.” Kirigiri replies, “Obviously there is no real way for you to prove any of this, so I suppose we will have to take your information at face value for now.” Monomi cocks her head to the side, “Though you still haven’t actually answered the question Mokoto originally asked you, how do you know so much about the future?”

“Hah, um. Well, I just wanted to explain the other stuff first, so this part wouldn’t seem as certifiably insane.” you laugh again, it’s a bad nervous habit you have only recently developed, “Where I’m from, this , meaning you guys and the NWP and Enoshima and the tragedy and literally everything ever. Is from a video game.” you stare at Monomi for a moment. You can hear some sort of ruckus in the background, but Kirigiri’s voice remains surprisingly even when she says. “Go on. How much do you know, tell me.”

“The first entry covers your killing game, from start to finish. You play as Naegi-san, so I only really know about how things went from his perspective”

“WHAT?” You hear Naegi exclaim, and then some shuffling as he takes over control of Monomi, “Can you prove it? Say something about me that the others won’t know.”

“You wet the bed until 5th grade.” you say without even thinking.

Naegi lets out a very loud yelp, and from somewhere in the background you can hear Togami chuckling to himself.

You wince, “Sorry Naegi-san, it was just the first thing that came to mind.” “No it’s fine, I understand.” He squeaks, “I guess that proves you aren’t completely lying or anything, please, tell us what-” “Hey wait! ” a new voice calls from the background, “Let me have a turn!”

Your brow creases, “Oh my god. You guys have Hagakure-san in there with you? Why do you have Hagakure-san with you?”

“Whoa! You totally knew it was me right away!” He is much closer to the mic now, but you can tell that Naegi has not allowed Hagakure to get his hands on the controls, “Tell me something about me!”

“I know you spent a few really gross days with Kuwata-san’s really gross cousin.”

You hear the sound of Hagakure getting shoved quite hard, and Naegi being told to shoo out of the way before Togami finally returns to the mic, “We don’t have time for any more parlour tricks. Explain everything you know up until this point, quickly, skip the unnecessary details.”

“Alright…” You say, and begin.

It still takes some time, even with you trimming the fat as much as possible. Togami asks a question every now and again, and he occasionally lets Kirigiri ask one as well, but otherwise, you just talk and talk and talk. It comes to you quite easily, part way through it stops feeling like you are talking to fictional characters and instead like you are just infodumping to one of your friends. You’re very good at that, so most of the words string together without you even thinking.

When you finally finish, Togami hums aloud, “This seems stupid and impossible, but you know far more than you should otherwise, and importantly, you also seem to know more than Enoshima does.” he huffs, “At the very least you can’t be working with her, or else you would have told her all of this before you told us. So that’s a comfort.”

“I really am trying to help.” You promise, “I know that it’s weird to hear, but from my perspective I’ve known you for years and years. I care about all of you, and everyone in the Neo World Program very deeply, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, I swear it.”

“Sorry, can I ask one more question?” Naegi says, “Scoot over, Byakuya.”

There’s a bit of shuffling, and then Monomi is back under Naegi’s control, “This is going to sound dumb, but it’s going to kill me if I don't ask.”

You shrug a shoulder, “Go ahead, I guess.”

Monomi wrings her paws together and then Naegi asks, “Do you think we’re…real?”

Togami scoffs in the background, “Of course we’re real, Mokoto.”

Naegi makes a panicked whining noise, “But if what she’s saying is true, then we’re just videogame characters, which means we aren’t really real , right?”

“I mean, I don’t even 100% get the semantics of this situation myself but I think you must be at least somewhat real?” You cringe, “Sorry that probably wasn't very comforting, what I mean is that while I know the way things play out, there is still stuff that isn't exactly how it was in the game. A lot of the remnants act more like real people than caricatures and things are able to change in ways the game would never allow. I guess that’s why I suggested that alternate universe theory. In my world this is a video game, but here it’s real. That’s the only conclusion I’ve been able to come to.”

“Then, I guess that’s all we have to go on for now.” Kirigiri adds, “You must be tired, get some rest. We’ll attempt to get the second island open tomorrow, Monomi will update you and the rest of the Remnants if we succeed.” You sigh, “Thanks everyone, I was worried you would think I’m losing it.” “Oh, we do.” Togami replies, and you hear what sounds like him taking an elbow to the gut.

“Don’t worry about it!” Naegi chimes in, “If we find time, we’ll see if we can figure out how you got here, there must be something for us to find in the code. We can ask Alter Ego to look too.” You reach out and pat Monomi on the head, she’s very soft, “Thanks guys, but don’t stress too much about it. Just focus on helping the remnants, I’ll be okay.”

“We’ll do what we can.” Kirigiri says, “You’re just as important as they are.”

You laugh quietly to yourself, “I’m not important, I’m just…unlucky.

---

You try to take Kirigiri’s suggestion to heart and get some rest. It doesn't come easy, after a very long shower where you spent the majority of the time with your forehead pressed against the cold glass, you dried off your hair and collapsed onto your bed to sleep. You had only been intending to take a short nap, but as it often goes, when you woke up again the sun had already set and checking the time you realise that you have also well and truly missed dinner.

You huff and swing your legs over the side of the bed, rubbing at your temples. You have a headache, which is just neat and you really can’t be bothered walking all the way to the market for painkillers, so you’ll just have to live with it. At the very least, you should get something to eat. Standing from the bed, you shove your feet into a pair of sandals and head out the door, not bothering to change out of your pyjamas. It’s been a weird day, emotionally, mostly. You had an uncharacteristically good time at the beach, but now you were saddled with the stress of an upcoming motive, one that will potentially get multiple people killed if you screw it up.

It’s still warm outside even though the sun has well disappeared beyond the horizon. You’re starting to yearn for winter, for cold, for anything other than the endless heat of Jabberwock island. There’s a warm breeze in the air, and apart from that and the waves crashing on the sand out behind the hotel, the only sound you can hear is your own feet hitting the boardwalk, it is nice outside at night, quieter.

Just before you turn off the boardwalk and start heading towards the restaurant, a light on in one of the cottages across the way gives you pause. It’s well past Monokuma’s announcement by now, and there’s little reason for anyone to be awake. You only need to walk a few steps closer before you realise that it’s Komaeda’s cottage, the light isn’t all too bright, likely just his lamp, but you’re always too curious for your own good and start heading in that direction anyway.

You freeze a good few feet away when you hear a sound . For a moment you think that you’re imagining it, but then you hear it again .

Is he…

You have to get a better look (well you don’t have to, but you do want to) so you scoot over closer to the cottage and drop down into a crouch under his windowsill. His blinds are still about halfway open and the window is cracked just enough that sound is escaping. For a moment you consider closing the window for him and leaving, just to make sure no one else overhears anything, but out of an inadvisable curiosity, you peek up just over the windowsill and affirm that yes , Komaeda is jerking off.

You cover your mouth to hide a yelp, spinning around and pressing your back against the wall of his cottage, trying to calm your breathing. What did you think you would see if you looked? You knew what was happening in there. God why is he so loud ? You cover your ears and squeeze your eyes shut.

It’s only when your legs start to ache that you realise you have been crouching below the windowsill for far too long, frozen in a mixture of shame, fear and something you are too embarrassed to put a name to right now. Readjusting yourself a little, you turn to face the wall and grip the edge of the windowsill, debating pulling yourself up for another peek. Why did he leave his window open anyway? He isn’t stupid.

Edging yourself upward just enough that you can see the top of his head, and then his eyes squeezed shut, his open mouth-

Is this lucky or unlucky?

The question enters your mind unbidden and you cannot stop thinking about it. If Komaeda turned his head and saw you creeping outside his window would that be good luck or terrible luck? This thing you are doing is terrible, but how Komaeda might feel about it is another matter entirely, and you have been confused about it to say the least, especially after he went down on you that one time.

You still don’t understand why he did that. He clearly doesn’t have any feelings for you apart from a passing interest, and you know that is only because he thinks you possess the ability of foresight.

He did seem to enjoy himself, but maybe he was just horny and you were there or-

He gasps aloud, ripping you from your internal monologue and back to the very real sight in front of you. Komaeda’s hand moves up and down in lethargic strokes, slow and deliberate. His free hand is tangled in his hair, loose strands of it clinging to his sweaty forehead. On one particularly firm stroke his hips jump up to meet his hand and a squeaky moan breaks loose from his lips.

Breathing hard, he removes his hand for just as long as it takes for him to spit in his palm, and then it’s back on the length of his cock, moving faster than before. You can feel yourself growing warm just watching him, practically glued to the glass despite knowing that you should not be here. His chest heaves with each breath, shirt pulled up high enough that you can see the way his stomach clenches when he rubs the pad of his thumb over the sensitive tip of his cock. Komaeda is very pretty, you’ve always known this. But here, now, with the thin line of moonlight reaching in through his open curtains casting a bright light across all his sharp, jutting angles, he looks like an artist has carved him from marble.

His mouth hangs open on a shuddering moan, lips moving to form the shape of a word that he ultimately decides shouldn’t be uttered, biting his lower lip hard to keep himself quiet. There is something balancing on the tip of his tongue, and he is afraid to say it aloud, to solidify it, to make it real.

You wait, for some reason, crouched below the windowsill, hoping to finally catch a glimpse of just what is on his mind. To understand him, to understand why he treated you the way he did despite it not being in his best interest. He keeps his mouth shut though, not a word escapes, nothing more than moans that grow louder and louder. You finally regain your senses and wrench your eyes from the scene. What Komaeda thinks about when he jerks off is none of your business. No matter how much you wish it was. You at least have the decency to push his window closed the rest of the way, so no one else walking by will hear him and try to put the memory of what you saw behind you.

Food is the last thing on your mind now, so you instead return to the lonely comfort of your cottage, knowing a restless night awaits you.

#nagito komaeda #komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda x reader

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coltrainbat · 2 years

Note

I think all my little brain cells are dead from studying send Chris fluff plz

Bed. Now.

A/N: As you wish. Good luck to all my girlies in finals week, drink water, take a shower, brush your teeth and remember you're not going to do your best if you're not rested!! Go to bed. It will be still be there when you wake up in the morning.

You typed away aggressive on the keys. Only stopping to sip your Red bull, your eyes tired and sore as you rubbed away signs of fatigue. Your music played loudly through your noise cancelling headphones meaning you did notice Chris sneak into the study and stand in front of you until your laptop screen closed with a thud, merely missing your fingertips.

“Hey!’ you yelped, pulling off your headphones.

“Bed. Now.” He said sternly, holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m almost done, it’s due tomorrow night.”

“It won’t be any good if you don’t sleep.”

You sulked at him from your seat, leaning back and rubbing your eyes with a heavy sigh.

“Baby please its almost 12:30, Dodge and I can’t go to bed without you.”

You looked down to your left at the pup who had just appeared at your side. Whining a little as he placed his head on your lap.

You smiled at him, scratching the spot behind his ear. “Did Daddy pull you into this huh? Turning you against me?”

“Tomorrow morning first thing you can come back, I’ll even make you pancakes and coffee.”

“Really?” Your eyes perked up at the promise of breakfast

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna burn them?”

“I will do my best not to now come on Y/N, please?” his hand still stretched out, shaking a bit for emphasis.

“Fine.” You let him pull you up by your arms. His arms instantly wrapping around you.

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I need a good grade Chris!”

“And you will get one… tomorrow.” He looked down on you, his arms still firm around your waist.

You walked towards the bedroom, Dodger running around ahead lion in tow, your arms wrapped around Chris’ arm as he led you to bed.

The covers already opened for your impeding arrival, herbal tea on your bedside table with steam still coming from it.

“You weren’t going to let me finish, were you?”

“Nope.” He popped the P placing you down on the bed.

“Yeah, well my blood is 80% redbull now so doubt I will be falling asleep easily.”

“That’s fine as long as you’re relaxing.”

He settled in next you, his arm stretching out for you to cuddle against his chest. Remote in the other hand putting on some random movie.

You sipped your tea contently against his chest.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

“Good.” He kissed your forehead, hand softly stroking your hair.

“I’m serious you know?”

“About what?”

“You’re going to burn yourself out.”

“It’s finals week!”

“That doesn’t mean the world stops and neither should you. I can’t watch you lock yourself in the study for 15 hours a day, chugging redbulls and not eating. It’s not healthy sweetheart.”

“I know but it’s almost over.”

“I’m proud of how hard you work but you need to take care of yourself.”

“And why would I do that when I have you?”

“Fair enough but that means you have to start listening.”

“Or what?” You challenged playfully.

“You want to find out?” His eyebrows rose as he looked down on you, his tongue peaked out, sinister thoughts running through his mind.

“Come here you little overachiever.” Suddenly he was on top of you, hands snaking under your shirt, trailing up and down your torso in a tickling motion. Head immediately joining his hands under your shirt, blowing raspberries on your stomach.

You squealed in delight at the sudden tickle attack.

“Chris… stop… stop!! I’m gonna pee!”

His head came back over your shirt pulling the fabric down, face now desperately close to yours, leaning down to kiss your lips tenderly.

TAGS: @royalwritersoftheuniverses

#cevans #chris evans imagines #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff #chris evans blurb #chris evans x curvy!reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans one shot

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

Text

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - part 11

Note: We’ve had literally yearning for 6 chapters. Six whole chapters. Time for the payoff. Buckle up, this is a long one! Also, I didn’t beta or edit this sdkfjsl.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Content! Minors DNI. (f!oral receiving, sexual content, cursing/swearing, smoking).

Synopsis: After reading a glowing review for The Beef, you head over at the end of your day to deliver a congratulatory gift of lemon-bars to the hardworking staff (and maybe it’s an excuse to see Carmy. Maybe).

Once you arrive, you learn how badly the day went, and your relationship to Carmy reaches an inevitable breaking point.

(Read on Ao3) /// (Masterpost)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dani finished reading the review out loud to the staff while you’re baking the morning sheets of vanilla and chocolate cake. Personally, you thought this particular food critic was a hack, but any good review would be beneficial for The Beef’s business. And Carmy mentioned they’d be turning on their ‘to-go’ feature soon. You smiled to yourself at the internal change that occurred over these past months. Once upon a time, you hoped for his downfall, and now you were congratulating his employees.

“Wowza.” Ted exclaimed with a grin. “That’s really something.”

Leslie suggested, “We ought to give them a gift.”

You drummed your fingers on your chin. Your conversations with Sydney were few and far in between, but Marcus, Tina, and Carmy respected her, and you respected them. Richie didn’t like her much—so that gave you all the more reason to like her.

“I think Syd likes lemon bars?” You ventured a guess, “We were talking about desserts, and I remember she mentioned a dish with citrus being her favorite.”

“We can make those.” Dani nodded, “It wouldn’t take long, either.”

You smiled. “Great.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You waited until after service before walking over to The Beef. It wouldn’t make sense to try and catch them during either of their rushes. They wouldn’t have time to appreciate the gift. And, if you’re being completely honest, you wanted to see everyone’s reaction.

Carmy’s especially.

You didn’t bother with the front door and circled straight to the back. You expected to find a few employees smoking, not a Baroque painting of exhaustion, grief, and anxiety. Richie’s forehead leaned into his palm with his elbows on his knees. Ebra stared into the distance holding a plastic to-go cup filled with water. Tina’s eyes were glued to her phone, her expression troubled, and a little angry. Carmy wasn’t out here.

Louie, Tina’s son, perked up once he saw you. Why the hell was he here?

“Hey!” He brightened with a little smile, “You’re Dani’s friend.”

You snorted. “I’m Dani’s Boss.” You lifted the tray of lemon bars while walking toward them, “And I come bearing gifts to commemorate the sparkling review in The Telegraph.”

“That guy’s a hack.” Richie looked perturbed, “and it’s not exactly a celebratory mood right now.” He gestured to his hip, “I got stabbed.”

“Oh, shit!” Your eyebrows jumped toward your hairline. Ebra took a lemon bar off the tray with a grateful, excited smile.

Tina added, “Syd and Marcus walked out.”

“Fuck.”

Your mind immediately jumped to Carmy. How was he coping with all this? You set the tray of lemon bars on the open bench and quickly wiped your palms. Syd and Marcus? You recalled Marcus’ passion and thirst for knowledge from your interview. Months ago, you would’ve celebrated this loss, and hired Marcus for your business. But that wasn’t you anymore. Your veins froze over, and a knot of anxiety twisted inside your gut.

If Carmy wasn’t here, then did that mean he was inside? Shit. Your sneaker scraped against the pavement when your body naturally pivoted toward the door.

Richie sighed, a plume of smoke trailing from his nostrils, “You gonna check on your boyfriend or what?”

“He’s not—” You groaned, shaking your head, “Doesn’t matter. Is he inside?”

Tina nodded. “In his office.” You gave her a tentative, brief smile.

She called to your retreating back, “Good luck, Chica!”

“Yeah! He’s a big baby!” Richie yelled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The temperature dropped by several degrees the moment you entered The Beef. It wasn’t a literal change. In fact, the restaurant was warm, and smelled like smoke, with edges of burned chicken and sour giardiniera. But there was a tension and coldness to the air. You offered subdued, passing smiles to Manny and Angel and Sweeps.

Carmy’s office door was shut. You chewed the inside of your cheek. You considered walking away and texting him later once the dust settled. But he came into your office when you were having an emotional breakdown. It’s only fair that you returned the favor.

“Hey!” You slammed your palm on the door a few times, “Open up. It’s me.”

“Not right now,” came Carmy’s struggled reply.

You jiggled the knob. Locked. You pressed your cheek to the cool, quiet wood and said, “I bet Fak has a set of keys.”

His office was the size of a closet. It shouldn’t take him more than a minute to reach over and unlock it. But it felt like an eternity passed before the doorknob turned under your hand. You slipped through and shut it behind you. The room was bathed in the low, yellowish light of his lamp and smelled faintly of cigarettes. Carmy sat in his office chair less than a foot away. He looked as if someone just ran him through with a sword. The lines on his face were drawn, his eyes heavy and exhausted, a sheen of sweat and grease saturated his hair.

“It’s not a good time.” He said, rubbing his fingers over his forehead.

“It never is.” You shrugged and rested your bottom against the metal edge of his desk. Your fingertips nearly brushed. Your left foot almost touched his. Your skin prickled with keen awareness at the breathing space between you. So close, yet so very far. You tore your gaze from his face and smirked at the white-board drawings.

Carmy looked behind him, “What?”

“Richie drew some very similar designs on my board.”

“Of-fucking-course he did.” He scowled.

Your head tilted. Something was…strange…about his tone. Ever since the Fourth of July fireworks, you noticed Carmy’s tone sharpened when it came stories about you and Richie. You assumed it was the usual, nearly-sibling-type annoyance. Richie could be a major asshole, but he grew on you like a non-toxic fungus. He wasn’t a bad guy. He was just a dumb, sad jerk. Did Carmy and Richie have some secret rivalry or disagreement? Wait…

You gasped. “Did you stab Richie?!”

“What?” Carmy scoffed, “No!”

“You’ve been weird every time I’ve brought him up!”

“I – no – I can’t fucking do this today, alright?” He threw his hands into the air and dragged them down his face. “Not today.”

You disliked that he avoided the question. You would have to try and figure it out another time because today wasn’t about Richie. It was about Carmy and how he was coping after Sydney and Marcus bailed. That’s why you were here. You stepped closer, away from the desk, and your knees bumped into his.

“What happened?”

“It was a fucking shitshow, that’s all.” He snapped, “Same as every other fucking day here.”

“Such a shitshow that you locked yourself in your office?”

His jaw flexed and he looked away from you, “What? I can’t have a moment of—a moment of fucking peace?” He said and gestured with a firm, straight hand.

You crossed your arms over your chest. You weren’t buying it. No way. You closed yourself up in your office because you were on the brink of losing your goddamn mind. Now, you weren’t trying to project, but you recognized when someone had their claws out just because they didn’t wany anyone to worry about them.

“Now will you go?” He returned his exhausted gaze to yours, “Please?”

“Only if you agree to something.”

“Fine. Whatever.” He gave a small shake of his head, “What is it?”

“I get to come over after you’re done here.” You said. His eyes widened in shock. You saw the gears turning in his mind to back out of the deal and take something else. But your mind was made up. You weren’t going to let him be alone tonight. He just lost two of his people and you weren’t going to abandon him too.

“W-what? Wh-why?”

You smirked. “You owe me a sleepover.”

At his confused expression, you reached over and lightly patted the side of his cheek. He blinked at you in a stupor and your heart made a funny little somersault like it was auditioning for the Olympics.

“Chin up.” You said, “It’ll be a blast.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy stared at his office door after it shut behind you. Today was worse than a shitshow. Today was a fucking cosmic horror of catastrophe. He lost his shit. People were (rightfully) pissed off at him. The To-Go system was insanity. He lost Syd. He lost Marcus (and his donut was fucking fire and now Carmy wouldn’t even have the chance to tell him). Syd was right. He was a piece of shit. An asshole. No better than the chef he worked with in New York. The Beef was fucked, he was fucked, and everything else was chaos and ruin.

Until you.

You showed up like golden salvation and he wanted—Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He wanted so badly to just hold you. Not kiss you, or fuck you, or profess his messed-up feelings. He wanted to indulge in the simple pleasure of wrapping his arms tight around your body and nuzzling his face against your shoulder. He wanted to be comforted by you. He wanted to smell the warm, sweet powder of your laundry detergent that clung to your clothes. How pathetic was that? He had his worst day at the Beef since he started working and all he wanted to do was forget about it and be with you.

Well, he got his wish.

“Fuck.” He scrubbed one hand over his face, “Fuck.” You were coming over tonight. His place was a wreck. He always imagined he’d have twenty-four hours to clean up the place and make it presentable. However, reality was harsher, and you’d end up seeing his apartment in all its grimy glory.

He sighed heavily and got to his feet.

A mote of lightness lingered in the shell of his chest. It belonged to the tentative excitement of seeing you later. You were something—someone— to look forward to. He recognized the selfishness and couldn’t find the energy, or the resolve, to extinguish the flame.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy opened his door with a mild shrug and self-deprecating frown. “This is it.”

You breezed into the apartment, barely a cursory glance around, and settled your hands on your hips. You’d seen worse. His place looked as if he just moved in. There were a few unpacked boxes in the kitchen near the table and no decoration to speak of. He could use a piece of artwork or two. Or maybe an unkillable cactus by the window to liven it up.

You asked, “You hungry?”

“Nah.” Carmy said, shaking his head.

“Then at least take a shower.”

Carmy leveled you with a semi-serious look, but a faint—so faint it’s nearly a ghost—smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Did you come over just to boss me around?”

“Yes.” You said without missing a beat.

A long time ago, your grandfather issued the same level of annoying, bossy care. You were a teenager at the time and your bad mood had morphed darker and deeper. Your mom hardly noticed that you slept more hours than you were awake. But your grandfather stubbornly refused to leave your room until you showered and ate a single piece of toast. He came by every morning to check-in. He made sure you knew, above all else, that you had him.

Your throat prickled with grief. You turned away from Carmy and pretended to look at his kitchen countertop, touching the wooden spoons on the stove. You needed Carmy to know that he had you. He wasn’t alone. Romantic feelings aside, you were friends, and you looked out for each other.

He shrugged, fishing his cigarettes out of his front pocket, “I can shower in the morning.”

“No way!” You snatched the cigarette from his mouth, “Carmen.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

Your shoulders relaxed imperceptibly beneath his tired, blue eyes. You schooled all joviality and teasing from your expression and tone. It was important he took care of himself. He couldn’t bury his head in the sand and keep trudging along like a beast of burden.

“Do you trust me?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Then trust me when I say you’ll feel better after a shower.”

He bristled. “I feel fine.”

“Well, you look like shit.” You held out your open palm, “Cigarettes, please. You can have them back after your shower.”

His eyelashes fluttered and a familiar confused light entered his expression. “You’re being more bullheaded than usual.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

He paused, licking his lips, “Why?”

Your jaw slackened. You stared up at him in the quiet light of his kitchen, his unlit cigarette pinched between your index and middle finger, the refrigerator buzzing next to you. Wasn’t it obvious? You cared about him. Sometimes you cared about him a little too much, a little too hard, but you were sick of shoving those feelings into a box and denying them. It didn’t matter if Carmy didn’t feel the same way. It didn’t matter that he was uninterested in dating. Your big, stupid heart liked him. You might as well spell it out for him since he continued to be obtuse.

“You had a shit day,” You said, “And I care about you.”

“Everyone had a shit day.” Carmy pressed his lips together. “Richie got stabbed.” He raised his eyebrows as if expecting a unique reaction from you. You merely blinked, mildly annoyed at his avoidance, and confused by his mention of Richie. Who cared if Richie got stabbed? He probably deserved it.

“Okay. And?”

“I don’t know.” He huffed. “His issue’s bigger than mine.”

“I’m not friends with Richie.” You proclaimed. “I’m friends with you.”

You placed Carmy’s cigarette between your lips and talked around it, “And you’re right, Richie’s issues are bigger than yours, but I don’t wanna be the one to try and tackle them.”

Carmy smiled softly and your heart melted. You were so stupidly into him that it was embarrassing. He finally agreed to shower and left you alone with blue-gray cigarette smoke twirling above your head.

You waited until you heard the shower turn on before snooping through his small, undecorated apartment.

The kitchen refrigerator was desolate. A loaf of bread, jar of grape jelly, and a few cans of Coca-Cola and that was it. You winced. Your own fridge and pantry weren’t much better, but at least you had a few vegetables rotting in the crisper drawer. There were a bunch of folded denim jackets in the oven. Your face pinched in confusion. Who kept clothes in the oven? You made a mental note to ask about that later.

His bedroom wasn’t as exciting as you hoped. A red and orange striped blanket hung above the unmade bed. A white ashtray, alarm clock, and a virtually empty bottle of pink Pepto-Bismol rested on his nightstand. Everything about his apartment thus far felt featureless and transitional. This wasn’t a home. He didn’t live here - this was only the place where he kept his stuff. Your heart clenched at that revelation.

You gently smoothed his blankets until something bright near the door caught the edge of your vision. It couldn’t be.

Your fingertips touched the delicate origami crane hanging from the ceiling by a thin, fishing wire. It was unmistakably yours. He not only kept it, but he brought it home with him. You touched the sharp beak to your lips and closed your eyes for a lingering moment of gratitude and too-many-emotions at once. You released the crane from your tender grasp. It swung leisurely on the line. You were happy to know that it was here and watching over him. A piece of you, forever folded and flying in the corner of Carmy’s bedroom.

You wandered into the living room and located the single, solitary evidence of Carmy’s whole personality and career. A mountainous stack of cookbooks. A smile pulled at your lips. You snuffed your cigarette out on the coffee-table ashtray and sat on the floor beside them.

You opened a cookbook in your lap. You flipped through the pages, heart swelling at the notes annotated in the margins, the neon highlight across measurements and important ingredients. You set one aside and flipped through another. Your fingertips lovingly tracing the cramped, dark ink of Carmy’s handwriting. Well-loved. These pieces of him were adored, cared for, used but not worn or falling apart.

Some of his notes were practical like ‘better with a roux’, or ‘add 2tbsp not 1.’ Others were scathing and blustering with self-importance. He wrote ‘inedible. Too much salt’ or ‘it’s bad. Do not make this’. You smiled down at the cookbook.

Your heart blossomed with warmth, with quiet simmering affection, and gentle yearning. He might’ve started cooking because of Mikey, but you could plainly see his love for it. You saw how his love for his brother transitioned into what he could create and communicate with food.

You thought of the lunch he made and delivered after your dad visited. You flipped to the table of contents, checking, and then turned to the lemon chicken piccata. A yellow sticky-note bookmarked the page. Carmy’s tight, neat handwriting greeted you – literally – because it was your name on the post-it note.

Your heart stuttered and your eyes misted with unshed tears. He looked this up and made it for you. He tried to harass your dad into leaving you alone. He called you after your interview because he wanted to know how you were feeling. Your heart swelled and all the pieces clicked into place. A hopeful, resplendent ‘What If’ bubbled to the surface of your thoughts. What if you were wrong about your interaction during the Fourth of July fireworks? What if you trusted yourself and your instincts? All the physical evidence – his food, your crane, the shared cigarettes, your passing glances and lingering embrace, every quiet phone call in the dark and wordless moments charged with electricity. Your bones thrummed with want.

What if it wasn’t hopeless? What if he wanted to be with you? You idly turned to another page, lost in thought, your brow furrowed. To be fair—you never asked him outright. You simply alluded to a future, ambiguous desire to date in the future. You never clarified and perhaps you should have because you’re sitting on his floor instead of sharing the shower with him.

“What are you doing?”

Droplets of water dripped into his eyes from his curly bangs and onto his soft cotton t-shirt. The rumpled chaos that lived inside Carmy’s expression was hushed and softened by the low, intimate light of his living room.

“Looking for something to make, obviously.” You said with a pointed, overly dramatic roll of your eyes.

He stepped closer and glanced at your open page. He tilted his head to read it.

He said, “I’m fresh out of snails.”

“Bummer.”

You turned to another page at random. “Okay, how about seared swordfish with lemon grass and rice pilaf?”

“I think you’re overestimating my pantry.”

He sat next to you, legs crossed, and opened his hands to receive the book. Your arms and shoulders brushed as you passed it over. The book laid open like a holy offering in his lap. And he skated his tattooed hands across the page with silent reverence.

You leaned your chin onto his shoulder and tenderly asked, “Which one is your favorite?”

“From this book or in general?”

“The book first.” Your skin prickled with warmth. You inhaled deeply, smelling soap and shampoo, clean and sharp.

“Hm.” Carmy chewed his lower lip, pages turned, but your eyes stayed glued to him. “This one.”

He glanced at you briefly and raised his eyebrows, likely expecting you to pull away and look down.

You tilted forward and kissed him. His surprised grunt puffed softly against your lips.

You drew away, chastised and embarrassed, feeling more and more like the worlds’ biggest idiot. Carmy experienced his worst day in the restaurant, and you were making moves on him. Despicable. Deplorable. You were the worst friend. You panicked with wide, nervous eyes. You didn’t even know with if he still liked you. Your actions were a gamble on hope and foolishness. You needed to backtrack, have a conversation, make things right before you lost him completely. Anxiety swirled in your stomach with a venomous power.

“I’m—” Your apology vanished beneath the firm pressure of Carmy’s mouth.

His hand lifted from the glossy pages, a smudge of ink on his thumb, and he cradled your jaw. You deepened the kiss in response and your anxiety vanished into smoke.

It felt inevitable, really. Like you were destined to do this from the moment he held your hand at Lake Michigan. You pushed your fingers through his silky, wet hair and you flinched each time droplets hit your skin. The book clattered loudly to the floor when you swung your leg over his lap to straddle him.

You held his face between your hands, pressing your torso flush against his, and seeing if you could transmute all your feelings about him into physical touch. Words could come later. Right now, you wanted only to touch him, to feel him, and give yourself everything you denied for months because you weren’t worthy.

He exhaled between your lips and clutched around your waist. He clung to you like he was drowning, and you were a piece of driftwood in a storm. His tongue delved into your mouth, eliciting a moan from your throat, and his hands went beneath your shirt, warm and calloused against your spine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He must’ve slipped and hit his head in the shower because there was no possible way this was real. You were kissing him, moaning sweetly into his mouth, your fingers carding through his hair. His fingertips met the clasp of your bra. He pushed his fingers underneath it, but he wasn’t trying to unfasten it. He only wanted to touch your skin. He felt the glorious, wonderful flex of your shoulder blades beneath his palms when your hands traveled from his face to hold his shoulders.

He mumbled your name, honeyed and warm on his tongue, with relief. He thought he’d never do this again—thought he’d never have the chance—assumed you’d never want him. You sucked his lower lip and desire ran like ribbons through his veins.

Everything; all the bullshit, all his stress and anxiety, melted like ice in a heatwave. You were a balm to his tattered, worn soul. He didn’t know if you wanted him only for sex, but right now that question was irrelevant. Because you were here. You were in his shitty, little apartment and you were on his lap and kissing him and God—God he never wanted to stop. He wanted to spend the rest of the evening like this, locked in your embrace, breathing the same air as you. When he saw you sitting on the floor, flipping through his books, burdened by a furrowed brow—he wrestled the urge to crouch down and smooth the pucker between your eyebrows with his thumb. He never considered himself a physical, touchy person.

It happened when you entered a room. That overwhelming desire to brush his skin against yours in a passing, accidental touch that sent a shiver down his spine. His hands splayed against your back, covering as much surface area as possible and holding you close. He wasn’t good at much (just the one thing—cooking), but he was good at touching you. He was good at making you gasp, your hips gyrating onto his, every inch of you pressed close. His face flamed with pride. Your tongue played along his, stroking and teasing, sending molten-hot licks of desire straight down his spine and into his abdomen.

You sighed against his mouth and pressed your forehead to his, gently playing with his hair at the nape of his flushed neck. He saw his haggard reflection in the blown-wide pupils of your eyes and your lips shone softly with salvia.

“C’mon.” You breathed. Anticipation was a drug burning through his veins. You climbed off his lap and held out both your hands for him. His fingers wrapped around yours and you half-heartedly pulled him from the floor. He was in a trance following you into his small bedroom. How many times did he dream of this scenario? Too many to count, he was sure. He bit the inside of his cheek to confirm if he wasn’t’ hallucinating.

You bunched the fabric of your shirt at the hem and pulled it off your body in a single, fluid motion. Carmy’s throat went dry. His desk lamp painted sharp, contrasted white light down the angles and curves of your body. You were gorgeous. You were perfect. You were too many inches away.

His fingertips ghosted along your exposed hip, and you turned halfway toward him, and rested your face on his, your nose skimming along his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered at the simple, innocent touch. He shuddered, exhaled with longing, and carefully—slowly—pressed his mouth to the corner of yours. Your sharp inhale and the way your body trembled under his touch told him everything he needed to know.

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” You said, “To sleep in.”

“Mhm.” He nodded. “Right now?”

You held him by the shoulders and smiled against his cheek.

“Yes. Right now.”

He leant back to see your face in full view to determine the emotion in your eyes. “We’re not—I mean you don’t want to…?” He cleared this throat awkwardly, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You shook your head, “No, no, I want to. It’s just…” Your palm settled on his cheek, mollifying him.

“I want to sleep with you.” Your mouth thinned, “And I want to have sex with you. Just not, um, not tonight.”

He burned with relief and a rampant, desperate yearning. He wanted to show you exactly how he felt about you. Not with words, or with food, but with his hands and his body, and make up for all the lost time that laid like a wraith between you. But he could wait a little longer.

All he said was, “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy gave you one of his white t-shirts. You shimmied off your pants, hyperaware of Carmy’s gaze burning into the backs of your thighs and crawled into bed with him. The sheets were soft and cool on your bare skin. You sidled next to him and wrapped your arms around him without a second thought. You felt the tension gradually seep from him until his face tucked near your collarbone and his leg wedged between yours. You were entirely tangled in each other. Despite the lack of movement, your heart pounded furiously, and your nape tingled with warmth. You weren’t sure if you’d get any sleep with Carmy so close and warm on you.

“Is this…” His curly crown tickled your chin when you spoke, “Okay?” You asked quietly.

“Mm.”

You hummed with satisfaction. “Good.” You listened to the steady inhale and exhale of Carmy’s breathing and felt the strong, thunderous pulse of his heart. You traced shadows in the darkness and smiled lightly at the crane hanging near the doorway.

He whispered against your skin, “I flipped out today.” His breath tickled your neck. “I blew up on Syd. On Marcus. I just – I couldn’t– I couldn’t...”

You started combing your fingers through his fluffy, silken hair. His shoulders relaxed and his body weight sank further into you.

“I couldn’t deal.” He said. He went through the day and told you everything. The to-go catastrophe, Tina’s son, Marcus’ inattention, and Syd’s mistake. His talked about his shitty behavior, how it felt like no one was listening to him, how Richie got stabbed and how the iPad kept freezing. You listened attentively and worked your fingers through his damp hair.

“It’s fucked.” He admitted feebly. “Cicero was right.”

He sighed, “I don’t know what I’m gonna fucking do.”

You tilted your chin down and pressed a brief, shallow kiss to his head. “Sleep on it.”

“Seriously?”

He lifted from your chest and his mouth drifted over yours. Your core throbbed and you wished to seal your lips over his. Yet, you resisted the urge. You wanted to this right. You needed to be transparent and honest about your intentions and desires. Because you wanted to try dating even if you weren’t perfect or wholly recovered. But you weren’t about to broach that topic of conversation with him tonight. Tonight, was about healing, and coping, and comfort. The relationship conversation would happen tomorrow.

In the light of a new day, yesterday’s problems were smaller, and tender bruises of the past started to heal.

“There’s nothing you can do tonight.” You said perceptively. “I’ll be here in the morning. We’ll deal with the damage together.”

In the darkness, his nose bumped into yours.

“Together, huh?”

Your nerves skittered along your skin, “Y-yeah.”

He closed the scant distance between you. His kiss blistered every valve of your heart, robbed your breath, and etched across your bone marrow. You whined, twisting your fingers into his hair, and arched your hip upward into his. His hands slid down your legs, exposed soft skin meeting his rough, calloused palms. Your resolve wavered.

You grumbled against his smiling mouth, “Stop tempting me.”

“Sorry.” He said not sounding sorry at all, “You’re – uh – hard to resist.”

You chuckled and your ego blossomed from his compliment. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

“No.” A beat. “It’s only ever been you.”

If you were standing, you might’ve swooned. Only you? Was he being serious? You remembered your past conversations, his admissions of loneliness, and his lack of any romantic or platonic relationships. He wasn’t a liar. Something that you appreciated about Carmy was his habit for honesty. He might avoid certain topics, or dodge questions, but– to your knowledge – he never lied to you.

“Yeah, well…I’m the best…so…” You grinned.

His low, quiet chuckle warmed you to your toes. He returned his head to the crook of your neck. You re-adjusted your limbs, one arm over his shoulders, the other curled over his mid-back. His weight was warm and heavy draped across you, and you listened to his breath shallow-out and deepen. You hoped his dreams were peaceful. You hoped he’d get a solid eight hours of sleep. He deserved it.

“Carmen Berzatto.” You mouthed to the darkness, “I think I’m in love with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy rolled onto his stomach and squinted his eyes open. The world was hazy and dark, and he surmised it must be late evening. A soft blue-light glowed from your phone screen as you held it close to your face. So, it wasn’t a dream. At the sight of you, his heart swelled in his chest, and a dozen confessions sprung to life behind his teeth. He wished he could wake up to you in his bed for the next hundred-thousand mornings. And the things you said last night…about dealing with things together…did you maybe want…?

You glanced over to him, “Shit. Did I wake you?”

“N-no.” His voice rumbled deeply with sleep, “What time is it?”

“A little past midnight.”

“It’s tomorrow then.”

You set your phone aside, “Yeah, sure. Technically.” You worried your lower lip between your teeth, “Can I just say something before I lose my nerve?”

Carmy tucked his bended arm under his head and nodded sleepily. He couldn’t imagine anything terrifying you or causing you nerves. You were the bravest person alive.

“I want…” You exhaled deliberately through your nostrils. “I want to be with you. I mean - I want to date you.”

He perked up, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry my timing is shitty.” You said hurriedly and sat up against his pillows. “I understand if you don’t want to – or – or can’t – but…”

You looked at him, earnest and sweet, “I really like you, Carmy.” You said, “More than expected.”

He inhaled with awe and adoration filling his lungs. None of the awards, the accolades, or praise he received as a Chef came close to this admission from you. You liked him. You wanted to date him.

“I’ve never…” He swallowed, “dated.”

Your tone was dubious, “Ever?”

“I’ve always been – um – focused on my career.” He said, “Didn’t really try to, y’know, date.”

And he didn’t think anyone would want to date him. He wasn’t funny, or interesting, and he simply didn’t have the time to get to know someone. His first sexual encounter was in culinary school. He barely remembered it. Not because he was drunk, or high, but because it was unremarkable. Everyone was celebrating the end of year, one thing led to another, and he slept with someone. That was it. He didn’t understand the ‘big deal’ or why his fellow classmates would skip out of class for their partners or celebrate their roommates being away.

After that solitary experience, Carmy shelved sexual relationships into the lowest possible tier of priority in his life. It wasn’t necessary, or important, or even fun. Until he met you. Until you kissed him with scorching intensity and passion. Until you rode on his thigh and Carmy felt himself become someone else. Someone cool and suave who could have gorgeous and maddening girls in his car. And when you came all over his fingers, he felt like a fucking rockstar, and entertained the idea that sex could be fun and invigorating.

You asked, “Do you want to try?” Your fingertips trailed up his bicep.

Carmy leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. You let him be tender for a few seconds before you flicked your tongue into his mouth in askance. He opened his mouth for you and your tongue slid past his lips with a gorgeously, delicious sweep.

He pulled away slightly, “Only with you.”

“I never had much time for relationships either. I might be awful at it.” You warned.

He held you under your chin, leveling your eyes to meet his, “D’you wanna figure it out together?”

“Yeah.” You laughed and your smile lingered. “I really, really do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You yanked your borrowed shirt over your head and tossed it aside. His hands skated across your waist, your legs, your stomach, before coming to your breasts and squeezing them. You arched your back and pressed your chest into his warm, rough palms. He kissed you like he might fall apart if he didn’t. He swallowed your moans, reveling in them, tasting them.

He slotted his hips into yours. You could feel the hard, thick length of him through his sweatpants against your damp underwear. Your body writhed and you were no better than teenagers dry humping at the drive-in movie theater. His mouth traveled down the column of your throat, and you were reminded of the pale red hickeys he used to gift you.

He said, “There’s something I want…I want to try.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Alright…”

He kissed between the valley of your breasts and pulled your underwear down your legs. They caught on your ankle. You kicked them off. Your body hummed with enthusiasm. With need. Carmy spread your thighs with both hands and bit his lower lip, staring down at you glistening beneath him. Your walls fluttered and you suspected his train of thought before the words left his kiss-swollen lips.

“I want to go down on you.”

Good God. Your stomach clenched.

“I know last time you didn’t want to.”

“It was too intimate.” You explained quickly. He snapped his gaze to you and his blue irises were nearly swallowed by his lust-filled pupils.

“We had sex on your desk.” His lips twisted into a wry grin.

You waved a dismissive hand. “Sex is different.”

“What about now?” He asked, “Now that we’re going to date. Do you – um – still not want to do that?”

The mental image alone of Carmy between your legs made your cunt pulse with need. It was different now. He wasn’t a stranger, or a fuck buddy, or a rival. He was a friend. A soon-to-be boyfriend. Hopefully.

“Okay.” You flexed your hands on the sheets. Carmy smiled, boyish and adorable, and you fell a little harder for him. He maneuvered himself to lie between your legs. His tattooed calloused hands squeezed the soft, delicate skin of your inner thighs. And your walls throbbed at the look he gave you, peering at you through his curls and long eyelashes, his breath warm and tickling your clit.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded, fingers twining through his hair, “Yeah.”

“I’ve never done this before.” He confessed and a note of bashfulness creeped into his voice. “I’ve only seen it in porn, but I want to. I want to make you…” He lightly kissed your thigh and your hips twitched forward.

“I want to make you feel good.”

You released a strangled, “Okay.”

His mouth traveled across your thigh, sucking softly, before he kissed across your stomach and worked downward to your other inner thigh. You squirmed, huffing, desperate for him to touch you. He skimmed his thumb across your swollen, aching clit and you hissed, head arching back into his pillow, and squirming.

“Good?” He asked.

“Very—” You swallowed roughly, “--Good.”

His tongue, warm and wet, flicked across you—a light touch that you assumed had more to do with Carmy’s own hesitation than outright teasing.

Your chest heaved and you clung to the back of Carmy’s head with a quiet, needy whimper. Regardless of his inexperience, you’re so outrageously turned-on that you’re going to orgasm quickly no matter what.

He laid his tongue flat, licking a stripe along your folds, and you quivered with an encouraging, “Please.”

His large, beautiful nose nudged your clit, his eyes slipping shut as his tongue pushed through your folds and slid into your cunt. He experimented with long licks and short laps, all the while his nose pressed into your clit, your thighs trembled on his shoulders and clenched around his head.

He groaned into you and your eyes squeezed so tightly that you saw stars.

His lips traveled, suckling, kissing wetly and noisily until they closed over your clit.

You moaned, loud and unapologetic, and a high-pitched “Fuck” trailed after the sound.

You bucked your hips into him, panting, the faint stubble of his chin rubbed against your cunt. Your fingers slipped from his hair. You grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers and squeezing, while your other hand clutched and twisted his sheets.

“Carmy, please. Touch me.” You begged, feeling your walls pulse and flutter around nothing, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. Carmy shifted, nudging your thigh out of the way, and you nearly weep with relief at the sensation of his finger curled into you. You lost yourself to the sensations—his warm mouth, his large hands, the quiet moans he released as you thrust into him, erratic and crazed with desire. You came apart with a throaty, unrestrained scream. Everything tightened and tensed before your orgasm washed over you in thick, honeyed waves.

You sank into the mattress and blinked at Carmy, his chin and lips glistened wetly with saliva and your release. You blanketed your eyes with your forearm.

“Holy shit.” You breathed.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Months?” You guessed.

“Months.”

You heard a rustle of fabric and movement. You peered out from underneath your arm and saw Carmy rolling a condom onto his engorged cock. You wished you could feel him without the latex and made a mental note to figure out an alternative form of birth control. He hovered over you, bracing himself with one arm, while the other grasped the base of his cock and positioned his tip at your weeping core.

You trembled and gripped his shoulders. He met your eyes, a question lingering in their depths, and you nodded. His cock pushed forward, and you gasped, shuddering.

Carmy exhaled roughly and whispered, “Fuck!”

Every second was pure, beautiful torture as his cock slid into you. Your walls stretched to accommodate him. Your spine bowed, chest lifting from the bed, as your thighs held onto his hips. He fit perfectly. How had you never noticed before? It was like you were made for each other. He buried himself to the hilt and your body was swaddled by his, surrounded, sweaty and warm.

His mouth covered yours. He didn’t thrust, but grinded, his movements shallow and slow. His cock, deep and filling you, his pelvic bone pressed into your sensitive clit. You were wholly and completely his. Adored. Enraptured. Stupid with love. Your walls squeezed him, and he moaned your name, his face flushed pink, and eyes closed.

He blindly peppered kisses across your jaw, to the curve of your ear, your neck. His thrusts were deep and lingering. You hiccupped a surprised cry each time he bottomed out. It was as if he was trying to mold himself into you. Every deliberate, slow thrust drove you closer and closer to the brink of release. You opened your eyes and witnessed golden, muted light framing Carmy’s face and curls with angelic luminosity. The disheveled white sheets shifted over his lower back and along your hips. The bed squeaked beneath you. You were suddenly struck by the intimacy of this moment. The gentleness of it.

You ran your nails down his muscular, slick back and kissed his collarbone before falling back onto the pillows.

“Not gonna last very long.” He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours.

“That sounds like a compliment.” You laughed, your heart brimming with light and hope.

“Mhm.” He flattened his palms on the mattress, holding himself upright so you were no longer chest-to-chest, and you were deprived of of his warmth and heavy pressure. But he quickly made up for it when he started thrusting with singular, driven purpose. And you found yourself spellbound. Just like the first time, you were lost to the sensations and sounds, your world narrowed into this moment. There was only Carmy, and you, and white sheets touched by gold.

You reached for him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to you. He curled an arm under your arched spine, pining you close, and you felt his heartbeat and his sweat and every heaving, desperate breath that left him. You hooked your legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him deeper.

“Oh, god.” He rasped into the shell of your ear. Your lips met the joining of his neck and shoulder and your teeth scraped across the tendon. You wished you could melt into him. Carmy’s breath hitched. His hips stuttered. He lost himself in you, buried deep, his brow pinched and breathing ragged. He panted your name over and over as he came.

He collapsed, face falling into your shoulder, his body limp and boneless.

You placed a chaste kiss on his stubbled cheek, “Have I killed you?”

His response was muffled by your skin. “Mm, yeah.”

“Ahh, well.” You clicked your tongue.

“We had a good run.” You teased, your fingertips gliding across his sweaty shoulder blades. He shivered beneath your touch and lifted his head. His eyes were wonderfully clear and—dare you say it? Happy. He looked happy. A new light entered his eyes, smoldering and bright, crinkling the corners of them and drawing lines around his lips. The dimple in his cheek made a blessed appearance.

“How many hours until you need to be at the bakery?” He asked, surprising you.

You glanced at his alarm clock, “Four.”

“Okay.” He pulled out. You flinched a little at the tenderness of your folds and walls. You considered searching for your underwear and borrowed t-shirt when Carmy’s hands slipped between your thighs.

You gasped at his touch and clutched his wrist with wide, confused eyes.

“What are you—?” Your head fell back into the pillows and your thighs reflexively clamped as he stroked you, “Carmy. It’s – ah, fuck – it’s sensitive.”

His ministrations slowed, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” You worried your lower lip, “Be gentle, though.”

He listened. His lips and tongue worked over your breasts, your nipples, your neck. His thumb moved in lazy, careful patterns over your clit. Your fingertips dug into his strong, firm arms or clutched his soft, curly hair. You relaxed into the mattress and your second orgasm came to you in a magnificent, pleasant pulse of heat and fireworks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy curled around you like a missing puzzle piece. His arm wrapped snug around your waist and your spine fit comfortably against his chest. Every sense immersed and saturated with him. You nestled in the warmth, and safety, and comfort of his bed and inside his arms.

“See you in the morning.” You muttered sleepily, while your hand gently stroked across the fine, light hairs on his forearm. He didn’t reply, but squeezed you closer, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face.

#carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto smut

366 notes · View notes

nine-of-words · 1 year

Text

Something Borrowed (Part Five)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 5134

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Drinking (Reader)

This one being a day late may or may not have to do with the fact I've finally started playing bg3...

Today, so far, has been one of those days that everything just feels wrong.

The midsummer wedding rush is in full swing, you’re baking the batters for a wedding cake off in the morning and finishing a different one for pickup each afternoon. And that’s on top of every birthday and pool party and every other sort of occasion under the sun, all demanding sweet, celebratory confections.

“Ugh, I just don’t get it…” Kirby grumbles and snaps the old tome closed, an uncharacteristically gloomy pout on their face. They lean their head on their hand, their palm squishing their cheek.

“Something I can help with?” You’ve told them pretty much everything you think may be pertinent, and happily entertained any of the failed spell purging attempts they’ve tried on you so far, but you still want to assist in any way you can.

“Not really- I’ve had no luck with leads at all. And none of the methods in this book that operate without knowing the origin of the curse look very promising. But there’s, like, definitely a curse here! The vibe in the shop and on you- The energy is there, it feels like it’s yours…but it can’t be from you! You’re a numan!”

“Yeah, imagine how frustrating it is on my end.” You chuckle.

“Ohh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that… No offense!!'

"None taken."

“It’s not your fault at all!” They sigh. “It just… doesn’t make any sense… y’know? I'm like, really good at breaking curses. Even the sneaky ones. It’s kind of my thing. But this one is like, hella hella HELLA sneaky!!!"

“Well, here, try one of these.” Doing what you know best in terms of soothing frayed nerves, you carefully pick up a cupcake from the case- Kirby’s favorite flavor, you've learned- and set it down in front of them. You hear yourself echoing the words your own mother told you growing up countless times: “It won’t fix the problem… but it might help you feel a little better.”

They let out a small, strangled gasp in glee.

“Oooooooh gosh! You're so good to meeee!” The faun takes the cupcake into their hands immediately, holding it like a small treasure. “I’m really going to need to hit the gym after this case, hahah~”

They devour their little treat and seem a bit less bogged down by the weight of your case afterwards, back to their normal peppy self. Helping to lighten their mood at least makes you feel slightly less guilty that your curse is the reason they’re having a hard time in the first place.

Kirby ends up heading out for the weekend not long after, deciding that fresh air and a change of scenery might help jog their investigative thinking.

You find yourself heaving a sigh as you look at the clock,clock, that closing time is creeping ever closer.

It's been so busy you haven't even been able to bake anything for when you see Carlyle later…

You go about the rest of your tasks, a little nervous about the tasting the closer it looms. Devin is pleasant enough, but working for someone you know socially is always a bit of a roll of the dice, unless you really know them well. You can’t imagine her being a problem client, though…

So, what could go wrong?

Nothing, you decide.

This tasting will go well, and even if it’s painful to be reminded of your past for a little bit, your reward for getting through it is getting to go on a date with a wonderful, kind, handsome man later this evening.

Any anxiety about the tasting seemingly disappears as you go through the motions lost in your smitten daydreaming.

Finally, you tidy up a little bit, taking care of what you can of closing while you wait, the table setting for the tasting already set.

Not too long after, Devin appears, all pastels and sunshine.

“Hi, hello there!” She chirps and all but flutters over. When she gets to the table, she grasps your hands and gives them a gentle squeeze with her small, graceful hands, still clearly brimming with joy. “Thanks so much again for fitting us in!!”

“You’re very welcome. Go ahead and take a seat- Oh, and where’s your partner?”

“Pookie will be here in a minute! He’s on his way.” She daintily takes a seat, tucking her ornamental bag in the sill of the window. “He had to stop by the music store before it closed. Lost all his picks again, hehe.”

“Oh, that’s funny.” You snort, reminiscing a little. "My ex used to lose all his picks all the time too, haha."

"It's the worst! I cleaned out one of my old purses once and found twelve at the bottom! Twelve! Then this one time-"

Devin continues to chatter excitedly about anecdotes involving her partner, most of which you relate to with your own stories. It seems you and her have dated similar types of men, for sure.

The conversation is enjoyable enough, but you can't help the strange sense of foreboding weighing on your chest.

"If he'll be here soon, I'll just go ahead and fill these, if you don't mind." You say, motioning to the flutes and the iced bottle of champagne in the bucket. You just want your hands busy to assuage some of the inexplicable nerves. "He'll miss the lovely pop, though."

"Oh, sure, go ahead! I don’t think he’ll mind." Devin assures you with a nod, so you grab the bottle and a cloth napkin.

After neatly removing the foil and the muselet, you cover the cork with the napkin and twist until it goes.

POP-

Devin laughs happily, clapping. The noise drowns out all the sound of the shop door opening, up until the end of the door bell jingle tapering off. A bit of champagne foam drips down the bottleneck and over your palm, then down onto the table.

You look up just in time to see your other guest- your body freezing in place as soon as your eyes fall on them.

You know this person anywhere, down to the tiniest details. A familiar lanky grey elf man; long brown hair tied back in a lazy half-bun, a worn band t-shirt with a flannel wrapped around his waist, and wrists wrapped in braided cord bracelets that move towards calloused fingers.

He looks the same as ever. He was wearing that t-shirt the day you moved out.

It’s Trevor.

You just look at him, speechless. He looks just as shocked- pale as a ghost, and frozen in place just past the threshold of the shop.

There is a loud maelstrom of emotions churning in your chest; you can hear it as blood rushing in your ears. Part of you is just so happy to see him again- but it’s quickly drowned out by months of suffering and grief and anger-

But before you can get so much as a ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ out, Devin speaks up, confirming the worst possible reason to be true.

“There’s my Pookie!”

"Hello." You force out. Finally reacting, you clean up the bottle and take the champagne flute from in front of her, turning your focus on filling it, trying to maintain some facade of normalcy as your heart starts racing.

“Oh… Heeey…” Trevor says awkwardly, seeming to find his ability to speak and move his limbs as he creakily approaches the table.

“What are you doing standing around, silly?” She pats the pink cushion on the seat of the metal chair beside her. “Come sit, you can finally meet my sweet friend!”

He finally takes the seat next to his new fiance, timid and flighty as if you’re going to jump up and sink your teeth into him at any moment. The expression is only made more intense when Devin leans over and gives him a large affectionate peck, the septum ring in her nose smooshing flat against his cheekbone.

“Let me introduce you! So,” She says your name. “This is my fiance, Trevor, and Pookie, this is my friend-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to…” Trevor cringes slightly at hearing your name.

“Oh… um, do you two already know each other…?” Devin puts a polished finger to her lips, tilting her head quizzically.

“Yeah, Pookie,” You barely manage to keep from spitting the word out like venom. You pick up the second flute to fill it, your fingers pressed forcefully into the stem. “We do, don’t we?”

“Uh. Yeah, Dev. We know each other.” Trevor rubs the back of his head, that little motion of self-soothing that you’re not sure he picked up from you over the years, or vice versa. “We used to date.”

Used to date? That’s it? That’s how he’s going to describe you devoting almost a decade of your life to him, and him tossing it away when you needed his support the most?

You expected to be sad. To be utterly devastated. And while you are certainly feeling heartbroken… You in no way expected this level of indignant anger bubbling in your gut in addition to that stabbing, crushing sadness in your heart.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s so sweet you two can still get along.” Devin says, and you try not to scoff at her absolute failure at reading the room. “If you’re already friends, that makes introducing you a whole lot easier!”

“Yeah. Sooo, uh… You moved the shop and changed its name, huh?” Trevor asks, daring to address you directly for the first time since he meandered in.

The quiet part: This would’ve never had the chance to happen if I knew it was you.

“Yes. It felt necessary at the time.” You say through your clenched jaw, filling your own flute of champagne.

You can’t even look him in the eye while you speak to him. Looking at the familiar hazel of his eyes- it just hurts too much.

“It… looks nice in here, man. I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

Doing okay?? You're most certainly not- or at least you weren't.

Either way, what would he know about it?! Like you haven’t been struggling to crawl out of a deep pit of sadness and self-loathing over the last year… Spending so much time blaming yourself for getting cursed. For not being good enough…

But… at the end of the day, you are a professional. You mentally pull yourself together, remembering your customer service voice and mustering all of your strength to get through this tasting on your raw charisma and goodwill towards Devin alone.

“Thanks.” You say, neutralizing the emotion in your voice to a smooth, pleasant tone. “Let’s get those cake samples out for you to try, aye…?”

You mercifully move away from the table, grabbing the plate of small, delicately cut cake samples from the front cooler. Some of these samples are flavors you always include, while others are ones Devin asked for specifically.

You set the plate down on the table- each neat square of cake accentuated with flower petals.

You watch as they try the cake samples, talking amongst themselves. You provide guidance and offer information when prompted, but you mostly just sit and drink your champagne, trying not to scowl or otherwise provide bad service.

…They're not agreeing on any flavors.

You've been in this business enough to know that's a bad sign. Not that they have completely different preferences itself- that can be worked around, and you've made multiple split cakes, or had people opt for different flavored batches of cupcakes in the past. It’s not uncommon, but it’s the way that the couple comes to that agreement that’s important. It's the way that they're addressing, or in this case, failing to address, those differences of preferences that's the bad sign.

"I like the pistachio creme, oh!- and the apricot curd- but the rose filling is nice too… and the marble cake is so good! All of these are so yummy, how are we supposed to ever choose?" Devin sighs happily, holding up the tiny fork as if trying to defend herself from having to make a decision. She has a point- not being able to pick which cake flavor is better is probably one of the best dilemmas you can think of to have. "What do you think, Pookie?"

“Whatever you want is good, babe.” Trevor bobs his leg under the table in rhythm, the way he does when he's bored. If he wasn't acutely aware of how bad it would look, he'd probably already be scrolling.

Awkwardness aside, he could at least try to act involved… Some things never change, you guess.

“Oh… I don’t know. What do you think?” Devin turns to you with a bright smile, practically wriggling in her seat in child-like excitement. “You’re the expert after all, hehe.”

“Well, I could’ve saved us some time if I had known… He won’t like any of these three- definitely not the marble, he hates chocolate cake.” You lean over and say, pointing to a few of the cake samples. “Regular white’s his favorite, but you probably didn’t like it much. It’s the most popular for weddings, but it's a wee bit boring, if I’m being completely honest. And he’d prefer the Elven berry compote filling with it.”

Trevor looks pale, like he’s going to be sick. He doesn’t protest, though- you already know you’re right.

“Oh! Wow, you’re really amazing!” She says, impressed. “How did you know all that?”

“Dev…” Trevor cringes, but doesn’t say anything more.

“Oh you know." You brush it off with a bitter smile. "Years of experience."

"Hmm…"

"Not to overstep too much," You can feel the champagne starting to influence your commentary just a tad. "If his parents are going to contribute financially to the wedding, they'll probably appreciate something classic, like that combination. They're sort of traditional. Might help you get on their good side."

Devin looks at Trevor, who nods weakly.

As you expected, they end up going with what Trevor (and ultimately his parents) would enjoy, over the less common combo Devin preferred. You can't help but feel a little bad, seeing a lot of your past self in Devin while watching that compromise take place.

You take down the details of the order on your datapad, desperately holding onto your sanity because you're trusting relief is coming soon.

"You'll still come to the wedding, won't you?" Devin asks you, puppy dog eyes already engaged. "I've got the save the date right here-"

She retrieves her bag and digs through it for a little box filled with twee, flowery wedding announcements printed on nicely textured card stock. She hands you one.

"Sure. I'll be there." You say, reflexively placating without giving it much thought.

Ugh, why did you agree to that…? Surely you could've thought up some excuse.

Trevor seems to be having much the same thought as you, brows almost imperceptibly twitching through his sheepish expression.

"Oh, good!" She claps.

A small bit of gleeful small talk and Devin’s profuse gratitude later, they finally leave.

Somehow, you managed to get through the entire tasting without making a scene, no matter how badly you wanted to.

You plop down in the stool behind the counter, not even bothering to lock the front up or turn the sign off.

As soon as you’re sure they’re gone and absolutely won’t be coming back for any reason, you let yourself become undone- bursting into raw, pained sobbing in the silence of the empty shop.

It’s like a knife in your chest, seeing him with something else and doing well, when you’re an absolute wreck, still struggling to pull together the broken pieces of your life.

As much as you’re hurting and never want to see him again, on the other hand, a small, weak, part of yourself still wishes that he would change his mind, come to his senses, show up and ask you to come back. Or that you would wake up one morning and all of this would’ve been a particularly long and excruciating dream…

You know you would take him back in a heartbeat. And it disgusts you.

It’s hopeless. It’s pathetic.

But…

It’s not fair.

That was supposed to be your wedding.

Once you’ve had a good cry and drained most of the remaining bottle of champagne by yourself, you’re staring down at your shop counter, zoning out.

Your eyes drift from the wedding announcement, instead choosing to fall on the vased bouquet of flowers still sitting nearby. They’re doing well still, not wilting yet at all. You've been taking good care of them.

You're hit with the sudden, shattering recall of the fact you have a date in less than half an hour.

Carlyle!

You jump up from your seat, then are forced to sit back down at once as your world spins nauseatingly.

… There’s no way you can let him see you like this.

You pull out your device, and desperately hammer out an admittedly sloppy message.

< Canb we rain check? Had a v bad dday today

You decide that will suffice and take another long glug from your champagne flute- the last of the bottle.

Carlyle, bless him, is punctual as ever, and responds to your message with concern before you’ve even put the glass back down on the counter. You would’ve noticed this if you weren’t completely lost in your own spiraling thoughts.

When you finally wipe your bleary eyes on the inner elbow of your button up to get a more clear picture of your device’s screen, you see a bundle of messages waiting. He must really be worried, because it's not in his nature to send multiple messages without waiting for a response first.

> Already on the train to the restaurant

> Are you okay?

> I'll change lines

> Be there in a few

“Dammit,” You swear, hanging your head in your spread palm, staring down the screen.

Great. Perfect.

You tried to spare him the sight of you, and managed to summon him here instead.

Not only did you have to see stupid Trevor today and agree to make his stupid wedding cake for his stupid wedding with someone new, but now the amazing man that has somehow managed to show interest in you is going to see what an absolute trainwreck you actually are.

You didn't even bake him anything!

…You really are cursed.

And maybe you're to blame…

You’re stuck in that same loop of catastrophic thinking until the bell chimes, taunting, above the front door that you couldn’t be bothered to lock earlier.

“Hey.”

It's hard to stay devastated when you see Carlyle walk through the door, wearing a subtle, well-concealed look of concern that you may not even have noticed if you were less familiar with him.

"Sorry." You say in exasperation, voice hoarse, trying not to burst into tears again. "I'm fuckin' tossed."

He takes that as his cue to approach the counter.

"Hah- It’s fine." He glances around at the half-closed state of the shop with raised eyebrows, then back to you. "Bad day, huh?"

"Awful. Terrible. Dogshite."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!" You whine, and then immediately launch into talking about it. You explain the awful day you’ve had even before the event, and he listens attentively.

"And it was fuckin' Trevor of all people, because of course it was-" You seethe. "One of my clients is marrying my bloody ex! Of all the people in this city!"

Carlyle nods to confirm he's listening, so you take that as the go ahead to just spill everything.

"You should have seeeeen them- He hasn't changed at all. He still leaves his stupid guitar picks everywhere! And he sucks at guitar. He was always better at drums. And she just coddled him n’ doted on him n’ babied him the whole time. Just like I always did- He didn't deserve it then, he sure doesn't deserve it now!"

"I knew he was going to pick the vanilla sponge and the berry filling. I knew it! He is so predictable. You know she picked the marbled sponge and the pistachio cream? There is no way they're going to work out. I make a lot of wedding cakes, Carlyle! Those flavors don't work together!"

"And she calls him Pookie." You gag.

At some point during your rant, he removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and sat down on one of the metal stools across the counter from you. A glass of water has appeared within arms reach, and you didn’t even notice him going to find the sink.

"You should drink some of this." He taps a dull, stony claw against the trim of the glass. "You'll feel better."

"Ah, bless." You gratefully sip at the liquid, only now realizing how parched you were.

"Sounds like you've had quite the day indeed. At least it’s over?” Carlyle tries to reason.

“I agreed to make their wedding cake. AND go to the bloody wedding.”

“Spirits.” Carlyle laughs softly, cringing and rubbing his neck with his palm. "You could always say something came up."

"Yeah, but my… Client? Friend? Client-Friend? Devin- she’s lovely. Absolute sweetheart. She was so excited to invite me and… I just don't want to hurt her feelings."

“Oh. That is pretty rough.”

“Right? It’s downright tragic, is what it is!" You find yourself quickly becoming all giggles and giddy bubbles."That's why I'm such a mess- well no, I won’t lie, I'm a mess anyway- but tonight I am a HUGE one. We were supposed to be on a date right now, but instead you're here listening to me blubber and winge on about my ex."

"Believe it or not, I've actually been enjoying listening to you. Moreseo than I already do." He smiles at you warmly, fingers flexing where they're laced together on the countertop.

"An' why's that?" You ask, putting on your best attempt at a flirty tone, given your state. You’re convinced you’ve nailed it.

"For one, your accent seems to be stronger when you're intoxicated. It may not be the most appropriate time to mention it, maybe… but it's too cute to not point it out."

You laugh giddily, suddenly filled with a surge of confidence.

"Cute, eh?"

"Very." He affirms, obviously genuine through his amusement.

Your face flushes, and you beam with glee.

"...You wouldn't like me better with a twee septum piercing?"

"That's awfully specific…" Carlyle taps his fingers on the countertop in thought, a soft clicking of stoneskin on marble. "I suppose if you wanted one, it's your choice and I can't really complain… It isn't something I would personally find aesthetically pleasing. …Though I could get used to it…"

You crack into laughter, giggling until you're wheezing and dabbing at the tears in your eyes.

"Oh… that's such good news, hahah…"

"Right. …Maybe it's for the best that we get you upstairs?" Carlyle rises, then comes around to your side of the counter, where he idles beside you.

"Oh? You want to leave so soon?" Your hands find his tie, gently but clumsily fiddling with it between your fingers. "But I'm really enjoying your company."

"You can enjoy my company whenever you like." Carlyle smirks. He does not stop you from playing with his tie. "But for now, you could probably use the rest. Allow me to help you upstairs."

You pout, giving the striped pink fabric a few gentle tugs, but he has a point. You are so exhausted and drained from the day already and now with the intoxication on top of it- you're barely holding yourself upright.

"I don't think I need much h-" Shifting your weight to get down off the stool, you fail to find your balance and stumble. The stool clatters and wobbles behind you, and your hands fly out, grabbing at his shoulders.

But a set of firm hands is there on your sides to keep you from collapsing into a puddle on the floor.

"Careful."

You laugh breathlessly, and let your full weight rest against his form in relief. You let your hands twine at the base of his neck and sigh, relaxing against him.

"Okay. So. Maybe I do need a tick of help."

"Just a bit. But everybody needs a bit, sometimes."

You scoff appreciatively.

"You are so nice to me and so handsome and you make me smile so much." You start gushing words with your face pressed to his solid stone chest, lacking any filter or shame at this point. You're so happy your heart could burst- in stark contrast to the absolute emotional pit you were just languishing in earlier. "Kirby said that's a low bar, but nobody makes me smile like you do. I like it- it feels good to really smile again."

"Hahah, you're flattering me here. …But I'm pleased you feel that way." Carlyle says, seemingly not in a hurry to escape your hug. You can hear the hollow rumble of his laughter in his chest through the thin cloth of the button-up, with your ear flush against him like this. "I would be remiss to not admit I feel similarly.”

You’re too happy for words. For a brief moment, nothing else matters.

“...You probably don't want to sleep in this."

You feel his hands migrate back around your waist, delicately picking the knot of your apron loose with his claw tips.

Despite your strong desire to cling onto him indefinitely, he eventually helps you put your weight on your own feet again. Then, after you've worked together to remove your soiled apron, you wobble towards the stairs, guardian gargoyle in tow.

"Those stairs are a hazard for someone in your condition. So I'll be right behind you. If that’s okay?"

"Yes." You mutter in agreement.

You feel a heavy, reassuring hand place itself on the center of your back, keeping you steady as you climb the narrow stairs up to your loft.

Somehow, you manage to crest the stairs without incident.

"Nice little place.Very stylish, but not too visually loud." Carlyle says as he looks around the space, hand still lingering on your back as you stumble towards your bedroom. "It suits you."

"Oh, you're just so sweet…"

You cross the threshold into your room, the full weight of the day starting to bear down on you. You plop down on the edge of your bed, completely spent, and kick your shoes off.

"Ugh, I can't sleep in these, they're covered in flour." You gripe and gesture to your work clothes, not wanting to get up as soon as you’ve sat down. "I'll get my bed sheets fully dusted… But I don't think I have it in me to stand."

"Not to be too forward, but I can assist. If you feel comfortable with it."

"You're keen on stripping poor defenseless me down?" You tease.

"I meant I could retrieve some sleepwear for you." His dark eyes clearly fix on where your hands are working off your shirt buttons, obvious to you even when the alcohol has dulled your awareness. "Nothing untoward."

"I would like that." You continue to unbutton, a smirk settling on your face. "Or I could go without completely…"

Carlyle's lip twitches into a wicked smile too, but he quickly turns around and disappears past the hanging pink curtain, into your small walk-in closet.

"So. …In here, then?"

"First drawer on the left." You call.

He returns by the time you've partially removed your shirt. It's proving more difficult than expected, and you've somehow got yourself tangled in the process of pulling it off. Clearly a failing in the design of the shirt, and not a reflection of your ability.

Carlyle sets the folded set of pajamas next to you and stands for a moment, assessing the damage caused by leaving you alone for a moment.

"Hahah, here." He pulls it the rest of the way off. You can't help but appreciate the sight of his exposed forearms flexing to maneuver the twisted fabric free from your body. It makes your heart start to race.

"I thought it might end up like this- I was hoping," You look up at him with slightly glazed eyes and say, with what you are absolutely sure is a very sultry, alluring tone. "Tonight was supposed to be a date, after all."

"Hmm."

Your hands reach out, brushing against the edge of his leather belt.

"Don't you want me?" The words tumble out before you can stop them.

"...I do." Carlyle smiles warmly at you, letting out a breath he was seemingly holding. "But not like this."

"Probably for the best." You laugh in agreement, not even offended- you're far too pleased to have that confirmation to be upset. "Thought it was worth a shot."

Carlyle proceeds to help you change the rest of your clothes, mostly acting as a glorified handrail, as he stands firmly in place with his eyes averted.

Eventually you're fully reclothed, and let yourself fall back against the mattress.

"On your side, please-" Carlyle instructs, holding your bedding up while waiting for you to settle.

"Look at you, in here tuckin' me in and everything. You're such a stand up fella."

Carlyle doesn't say anything, just laughing and shaking his head, slender dreadlocks swaying as he pulls the quilted comforter up over you.

"...You're not mad, are you? I'm sorry, I went and mucked things up tonight."

"No, I'm not. It’s no trouble." He leans over with one knee resting on the mattress, constructing a wall of the available pillows on your bed against your back. "Things are still fully unmuckable. We can always reschedule."

You're so giddy, you can't stop yourself, and your hands reach up to affectionately touch either side of Carlyle's face where he hovers over you.

His cheeks are hard underneath your fingertips, like a marble baking table surface before it’s been dusted with flour. But instead of being cold stone like you expected, they're pleasantly warm and soft to the touch. The porous, sculpted surface of them feels good on your skin.

"You… You marvelous man. You still wanna take me out?" You whisper hoarsely. You'd jolt up and kiss him right here if you had any energy left. "After all this?"

"Yes." He finishes securing the pillows to his satisfaction, patient enough to allow you to continue drunkenly cradling his face.

You chuckle, and manage to raise yourself up, just enough to press your pursed lips square in the middle of his stony forehead in a quick, affectionate peck. Then, you release your hold on him and settle back down, snuggling into the bedding.

"Goodnight, Carlyle." You say, already starting to fade off to the sound of him quietly humming in amusement and shifting his weight off the bed.

"Goodnight."

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mxm #mlm #male monster #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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fr3shm3at · 3 months

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２０２４年０７月０４日

Today is America day and im prepping for the psp customization and video… im very nervous about the costs i really want it to also be a selfcare travelkit when things get stressful. So im trying to find things that remind me of friends and that fit in a smol pencil case. We pray i find a 2000 ceramic white, but i will settle for 3000 just for customization white can go with anything!!!

For our to go lifeline we will need many things:

Pencil pouch big as a PSP 2000 ( the 1000 series is slightly smaller!cewl.) up to your preferences (me space and pouches i will not be using UMD)

Acrylic psp case (prefered with the screen flip protector addon)

Stickers for any occasion, yuh never know. Must match the current psp theme or yami kawaii

1 bracelet charm with 3 small charms to surround it (non acrylic 2D)

1 acrylic 2D

Good Luck Charm (new or old i will have both)

Sticker theme (etsy will have yuhr favorite chibi character 10/10 for center back piece)

Smol Emotional Support Plushie ( under 2 inches )

Acrylic Sheet for temp customization with stickers for interchange-able? Back plates inside the case

Exacto Blade : this is for the acrylic sheet we will be tracing the psp & cutting out the backplate shape out (remember to face the blade opposite of your body, anyone infront of you please tell them to move)

OPTIONAL : HOT GLUE GUN AND EXTRA PSP CASE for resin charms

OPTIONAL : resin charms with no jewlery ring (example: lilypads for mint green)

Fluff doge pencil case & kpop photocard space 2. Adorable stickers to cheer me up and stick it on sum 3. Plushie Bouquett

TH3S3 AR3 MY 1ND13 N33DZ 4 M1 PSP

Finger gauze blue refill ( i have 2 left )

Lipgloss and chapstick inside psp pouch (baby lips and something new)

Mirror fitting psp theme

Keychain tag for both pencil pouch and psp ( i will find the perfect one one day)

SD CARD HOLDER

Psp screen protector sticker thing

Hair holding stuff and i mean everything

My baby jesus good luck charm i won from a King’s Cake a old co worker made herself

One silly miniture gimick food to carry in my psp pouch. I have been eye balling these carrots vs strawberries

1 Blindbox near my aesthetic

Psp wallpaper/theme setting up

Physical list of psp of psp games

Physical list of PSX games (not the home entertainment system)

Physical list of DREAMCAST GAMES

SD card for my 2010 camera to record youtube video TwT still haven’t got one yet

Tripod for phone for setting the psp stuff up!!!!

i hope to get new clothes soon hopefully before i have to record my hands i can find some cute laced gloves…. I chugged a RedBull Amber Edition (Strawberyy Apricot) and currently on my favorite: SEA BLUE. I like when i have time to write out diary entries, i feel like more people talk to me. I feel more human :3.

I will be posting my blog and content about Ps2 Horror game series? blog(s) with all sorts of content. All short & simple for archive reasons till i decide how to do video game essay videos on YouTube. Man i hate demotivation, i feel like my youtube is going no where and its not like i play boring games. They’re all pretty top notch ‘niche’ unknown games. It takes double the time editing the content for me than recording or pressing ‘start stream’ and its pretty upsetting… Many beans tell me to not give ups and i really can’t, i still have +3 more years of this before i can offically call it off. If i end up with a smol community that is fine, i will do 5 year plan making it 4 years left. I’m a simple bean and i did research on my voice even to see whats the problem with people saying my voice makes them fall asleep. Some people are cewl crackheads and like shoot funni joke dopeamine into ya skull, but my voice is basically a milf YAY. My voice gives off oxytocin which is basically what new borns crave from their mother, WONDERFUL. Google is like “yeah u are the cuddle chemical”. WHY I WISH FOR VIOLENCE

Orginal vid

Basically how it feels, why can i not be villian?! Well i must lay down and rest before editing a long fallout archive stream bc i accdentally said free the nipple dressing a settler and her clothes were not compatable (god end me pls) but i shal continue to hunt my psp stuff, the money for it is coming soon and im getting a job so. I must ask fast!!! THERE WILL BE NO WHITE PSPS LEFTTT

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Not One of Many - Chapter Sixteen.

Huge thanks to you all, such a wonderful audience for your continued interest in my story!

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,655

Warnings - 18+ content, adult audience only. Minors DNI!

“So, there’s Beth, ducked behind a pillar, hiding from Anna Wintour, and I only knew she was there because when the champagne tray went past, this little hand reached out and grabbed a glass! She refused to come out, all mouth and no bloody trousers, this one was, critiquing the woman one moment only to scarper and hide from her the next!”

“I was scared, she’s scary! That’s all I said in my article about her, what a formidable force she was. It wasn’t my intention to insinuate she was a bitch, but she certainly took it that way!”

“Not about to have your writing featured in Vogue America at any point then, darlin?’ That’s who she’s the editor for, ain’t she?”

Beth nodded in confirmation. “Yes, she is. And no, I’m flippin’ not!”

Her friends had slipped into a ‘let’s share stories of our friend for her new boyfriend’ moment, Alfie entertained greatly at hearing of her past antics. She didn’t even care that a good forty percent were very much at the expense of her embarrassment. There she was, on his lap, their arms draped around one another as they enjoyed their evening, her insides virtually fizzing with joy. He was hers. All hers.

Three hours after he’d arrived, her friends all decided to move on somewhere else and leave them to it, knowing they likely had things to discuss as well as wanting to bask in one another, having just gotten together. They bid them all goodnight, Alfie telling them he’d enjoyed meeting them and looked forward to getting to know each of them better, Beth about to seat herself in Kinga’s vacant chair, but finding herself pulled back onto his lap.

“Well, here we are,” she spoke, still hardly able to believe it.

“Yeah, finally.” He kissed her cheek, those kisses moving to her neck as his arms tightened around her, elated. She was his. It hadn’t been an easy road to take in getting to her, but the bumpy travel had been worth it.

“So, I naturally have to ask. How did it all come about, you facilitating this?”

He reached for his drink, taking a sip before replying. “Well, the Mimi thing I told you about. She said she’d seen the change in me since you left, and that she knew that while it would hurt her, she loved me too much to stand in the way of what she felt I truly wanted,” he began, Beth touching a hand to her chest. Mims, she was just too sweet for her own good. “I should warn ya too, she’s still living with me at the moment, but nothing is going at all, she’s just there as a friend until she can get back to her mum and dad’s place. They’re off in Antigua and she can’t find her spare key, so she’s there for another few days yet.

“She’s fine about it all, too. I mean, obviously she’s been upset, and I have too, if I’m honest, finishing with her, with them, but not having you was so much worse. I realised I couldn’t face that, couldn’t lose you. Mims has been great, I told her I was coming here and she was encouraging, told me to go and not mess it up or she’d slap me, wished me luck an’ all that before she went out earlier. As for Amira, well, she didn’t take it quite as well.

“I was nothing but honest with her, I told them both that I’d met up with you that weekend, too, by the way. But yeah, when I broke things off, she cried her heart out, poor girl. She was devastated, said that if I couldn’t bring you in as one of three then I shouldn’t be throwing her or Mimi aside, that it was selfish, that she couldn’t forgive me for it either. She’s been moving out over the course of the last week, got herself a flat in Paddington with her accumulated modelling money.

“Yeah, I’ve proper burned my bridge there, which is understandable. Fuck, I didn’t expect Mims to be half as good as she was about it, but I think we’re gonna stay friends in the wake of it. She’s a lot more emotionally mature than I ever realised. Took me by surprise, innit, with her being the youngest.”

Beth was surprised, but not by much. She’d always sensed such in Mimi, that regardless of her tender years, lurked a wise head and heart inside the body of the twenty-one-year-old, bubbly, fun loving girl. She felt sad for Amira, though, someone who’d always been so nice to her. “I’d like that, if you two did stay friends. Is she going to be alright with me being around, until she moves out?

“Yeah, yeah, no question, my baby. No bloody question. I ain’t gonna push it in her face or anything, like, so if I act a little cooler with you when she’s around, just know that’s why, yeah?”

She nodded vigorously, finishing her wine. “Understood, I wouldn’t do such either. She’s such a sweetheart, and I think it’s her I have to thank for facilitating it, for assisting in your realising what you needed to do.”

His eyebrows raised a touch. “I think I knew deep down all along. I just didn’t want to hurt no-one. In the end, though, it was hurting you that meant the most to me. As well as trying to reconcile a life without you in it.” He kissed her then, stroking her cheek. “I bloody love you so much, Bethany with the lovely legs.”

“I bloody love you so much too, Mr Weasel.” He burst out laughing, her giggle beautiful to his ears, squeezing her hand.

“You about ready to go, then? Wanna come back to mine? I fancy taking a bath after getting rained on. It’d be nice to have someone in there with me.”

“Well, that depends. Are you going to do naughty things to me while I’m there?”

He smirked, draining his drink, winking. “Oh, you bet your sweet arse I am, flower.” An hour and a half an hour later, and she was back in the luxurious bathroom she’d missed, but not nearly as much as the man who knelt between her legs, his fingers working in a deft glide in and out of her soaking centre beneath the water, laying soft kisses to the side of her neck.

They’d enjoyed a long soak before beginning to get playful, her hand grasped around his shaft, slowly pumping, filling him with feelings of sublimity. “Bed, I think.”

His deduction was welcomed, both getting out and drying off, Beth rubbing her hair until it was damp before she was chased up to his bedroom, having her bum spanked before he lifted her, carrying her the rest of the way. It was a place she’d only seen once before, back when he gave her a tour of his home, when she was just a journalist and him her subject. It seemed like so long ago.

He lay her on her front, his hands taking time to enjoy gliding over her body, delighting in each curve as he stroked her back, her bum and her thighs, pushing them wider apart and lifting her hips just a fraction, his hardness nudging at her dewy opening before sliding in, the glide stretching her out, evoking a soft gasp, his mouth scattering a constellation of kisses from one shoulder to the other.

“Yeah, back where I belong.” He murmured, mouth repeating its tour of her upper back, hands trawling down her sides. His mouth pressed her spine, his moan on the cusp of a grunt as he slid his cock back to fill her again, moving steadily, savouring her, enjoying her, in his bed at last. He rutted pure heat into her, kisses continuing, pattering over her goosepimpled back like summer rain, Beth exclaiming in bliss with a soft sigh, turning her head and capturing his mouth, their kisses sumptuous and syrupy.

His teeth scraped at the side of her shoulder, tongue running to her neck, hands moving beneath her to grasp her breasts, his chest gliding against her back, all hard muscles and soft hair, her nipples pebbling against his skilled fingertips. His groan was pure gravel, arrowing through to her very marrow, making her cunt clutch upon his shaft, pulling him back, Alfie having to fight against that wet grasp, pushing harder, making sparks skitter up her spine.

“Fuck,” she gritted, gasping, overcome. “Fuck, Alfie.”

A shiver tore through him at hearing her voice break upon his whispered name, hands emerging from beneath her, lifting her chin, tilting her head up to bury his mouth at the side of her neck. God, he loved her so much. Having her there again, it made him wonder why he’d hesitated, when how he felt being with her, being inside of her, it eclipsed anything else in shades.

Moving off her back to his side, he continued kissing her neck, hoisting her leg up over his arm, reaching to stroke at her clit as he continued to fill and empty her steadily, groaning deeply, overcome entirely, just as she. The pleasure that streaked through her like a hail of comments did nothing but grow, flurries of tingles charging over her body, moaning uncontrollably at the sparks evoked by the thick drag of his cock. The stretch of him, the rub of his fingers, it was too much, the pressure mounting, her body juddering as with a series of soft cries, she capsized completely, her waves breaking over his shore as her release washed over her in ceaseless waves.

“Ahh, fuck, that was too good,” she panted, turning her head to kiss him. “And when you cum, I want you to hold me down by my neck and shoot it straight in my mouth.”

His grin had her giggling. “You filthy little madam.” He duly did, too, remaining behind her until he felt the twinges of release pulsing the base of his cock, turning her onto her back, Beth pulling her legs wide apart as he plunged into her with aggressive strokes, cursing as he felt it grip him, sweeping sharply, his hand clutching her throat as she opened her mouth, Alfie pulling his cock from her dripping hole and aiming his load at her outstretched tongue. “Yeah, you fuckin’ drink it back, you dirty girl, every last drop.” he groaned, watching her do just that, her tongue chasing a drip from her upper lip, his insides burning at the sight. Oh, she was too sexy for her own good.

He kissed his way down her body, head still foggy from his heady release, mouth settling between her legs, Beth exclaiming softly as his tongue dragged her soaking folds, her nails trailing down his powerful forearms as his hands came to rest against her sides.

She lay there and surrendered completely to his talented mouth as he began to deftly lick and suck at her, her petal soft flesh rubbed wetter by the inquisitions of his tongue as he gave her clit lots of attention, making it stand hard. He got off on the fact she had a piercing down there greatly, seeing it as something extra he got to play with while participating in his favourite pastime. If he could, he’d go down on her all day, every day. There was nothing he loved more than a mouthful of cunt.

Beating the tip of his tongue against her clit he also moved the ring back and forth, making her gasp and moan as pleasure burned through her like a tempest, wildfire personified, her thighs brushing his face as she writhed against his mouth

“Oh, fuck! Right there, please don’t stop!” she cried out as she felt him tug at her piercing, making her clit stand out to further and much more deliberate attacking of his tongue, his deep, lust drenched groan arousing her even further. She loved how turned on it made him whenever he went down on her. A man who thrived upon pleasing a woman with his mouth was eroticism incarnate.

“Stop? Nah, treacle. That ain’t happening.” Demonstrating such, he wrapped his mouth around her entire cunt and gave it a good, hard suck, biting gently at her labia too as she wiggled against his face and cried out ferally.

He then continued to go back to what he was doing, each fast, hard lick against her clit having her panting and moaning as she dragged her nails through his hair, feeling herself getting ridiculously wet for him. Testament to that, when he slid his fingers into her it was like cutting through liquid silk, fucking her with them hard and watching her become completely carried away with everything he inflicted upon her.

The feeling of her aroused gush dampening his chin as he continued to lick at her vigorously had him so turned on, he could barely stand it, pulling his fingers out and sucking her milky wetness off them before burying his tongue inside her and moaning as he felt her legs wrap around his head. His tongue rolling over her clit again and again as it lapped up her silky nectar had her reeling, lost in the storm of pleasure, her body shaking.

Lightning bounced at the base of her spine as he sucked on her harder, the vacuum of his plump lips sending her straight to her crest, ecstasy glimmering through her as her hips bucked, riding out her orgasm against his mouth, panting in exertion. “Fuck! Oh, fucking hell, you’re too fucking good at that!”

“Could you have crammed more F words in there?”

His echo back to her earlier words had her chuckling. “Cheeky bastard.”

“Who, me? Nah, never, love.” He kissed her inner thigh, winking. “Ain’t buying that at all, are ya?”

“Not even a smidge, Alfie.”

“Bollocks.”

He continued to keep her reeling with his mouth, until his cock had recovered enough to continue railing her into the bed, until they both fell asleep, utterly exhausted. The next morning, Beth woke up to an empty bed, rifling through her shopping bags and putting on her new undies, as well as the new jeans and nice, white shirt she’d bought as well, borrowing his toothbrush after taking a quick shower and applying minimal makeup, heading downstairs.

She could hear the sound of Mimi’s laughter coming from the kitchen, feeling a little awkward about seeing her again, until she entered, the young woman flying out from her seat in the breakfast nook and flinging her arms around her.

“Hey you! Awww, I’m so happy to see you here!” Kissing her cheek, Mimi tightened her squeeze, swaying her back and forth, Beth honestly stunned at how cool she was about it.

“Morning, Mims. And thank you, that’s awfully kind of you,” she voiced, grasping her hands when they parted, giving them a squeeze.

“Right? I surprised myself there, too. I couldn’t let him make a mistake, though, even if it came at my expense. And he’s gone from daddy to best mate, so I’m happy enough with that,” she vouched, Alfie kissing Beth’s head on the way out of the kitchen, telling her he had some work to catch up on and leaving them to it.

“So, Alfie tells me you’re moving back in with your mum and dad?”

Taking a seat while Beth went about preparing her coffee, Beth found it strange, the roles reversed, her now the girlfriend and Mimi the house guest. “I am, but just for a little while. I’ve been speaking to some friends and we’re looking at doing a flat share at this gorgeous place over in Notting Hill. I just have to talk dad into the rent until I get myself a job.”

“Oh, lovely!” Beth enthused. She’d looked at flats in the same area, but they’d been way out of her price range. “You can’t be going back to work with the horses and living somewhere so pricey, though?” The equine industry famously did not pay a great wage, the people working in it doing so mainly for their love of horses.

“Nope, I’m going to put my HND in accounting and finance to some use. I might be a bit thick otherwise, but numbers I’m really good with, so I want to see if I can get in somewhere as a junior bookkeeper. I’ve got two interviews lined up next week, one for Sony and one for Nickelodeon, so keep those fingers crossed for me.”

Hearing such, Beth couldn’t believe the coincidence, or the timing. “Let me give you the number of the offices at London Life and Style, because they’re looking for a bookkeeping apprentice right now. I noticed when I was flicking through the magazine recently after my article came out,” she offered, Mimi looking elated.

“Really? Oh, that’s so kind! Thanks, Beth! I did wonder, you know, if you’d be okay with me staying here, but you’re just... well, you’re you, aren’t you? You’re so chilled out and confident, and I really appreciate that. I didn’t think to look in the back of the magazine when I read your article, which I really enjoyed. You wrote me so nice, too, so thanks for that!”

Beth smiled warmly as she came to sit down, rubbing Mimi’s arm affectionately.

“That’s because you are so nice, Mims. One of the warmest and most genuine people I’ve ever met.”

Mimi beamed, her face then falling a little “Try telling that to Amira right now. Crikey, she’s so pissed off with me, she isn’t even speaking to me. I keep calling her but she just cancels the call.”

After Alfie’s detailing of her upset, it was no surprise to her. A knot of guilt tugged in her tummy, as she knew it would. It was not something she’d overcome easily, despite her love blooming, that it had come at the expense of others. “Yeah, I heard she didn’t take it all too well. Which, to be fair to Amira, no one could blame her for. Not everyone can be as dignified as you were during a breakup. I admire that in you very much, you know. When I was dumped at twenty-one, I was an emotional mess!”

Mimi’s face was a picture of sympathy as she nodded. “I thought I would be, you know, at the thought of losing him. I always knew I was temporary, though, until he found the right girl. All the others, I think, they all thought they could be his right girl, I mean Amira even talked about converting, but that wouldn’t have been what he was looking for. Or they felt they could change his mind. I knew I never could, and never would either. I was a realist there, and that’s why I didn’t try and, what’s the word, pacify, is it, when you try and soothe something that’s angering or upsetting?”

“Placate?” Beth offered, Mimi nodding.

“Placate, that’s it. I didn’t try and placate myself when I saw him falling for you, didn’t lie to myself like Amira did. It was the writing on the wall. I knew I could either behave like a child and scream and stamp my foot, or I could do the adult thing when I knew that what he had to do was hard enough as it was. I love him too much to cause him stress, so instead of doing that, I just made it easier for him.”

Beth was simply bowled over by her candour. “And how are you with it now? I want to be mindful over the fact that two weeks ago, you were still in a relationship with him and the hurt of your breakup isn’t just going to disappear.”

“I won’t lie, it’s tough, still, not to come downstairs and give him a big hug and a kiss. What makes it easier was this morning, though, finding him down here, whistling away happily. He always whistles when he’s cheerful. He looked like a shell of his usual self without you. That’s what keeps me going, knowing I was selfless, that I did something to make two people I care about a lot very happy.”

Beth beamed, reaching for her hand. “You care about me a lot?”

“Of course, I do!” she cried. “I really hope we can be friends? If that’s too weird then just say, but I like you a lot.”

“No, that isn’t weird at all. I’d like that very much, in fact.”

They shared a hug before Beth checked her phone, realising she had to get going.

“Hey you, I’ve got a lunch meeting to get to, but I can come back later, if you like?”

“If I like? Bethany, my sweet, you’re lucky I’m letting you leave here at all,” Alfie told her as she walked around his desk, her man wrapping his arms around her thighs and kissing her tummy. “Stay for a few days? Go get some clothes after your meeting and come back here.”

“I will for tonight, but this week I’m absolutely rushed off my feet and I have no idea about what time I’ll be here or when.”

Alfie shrugged. “This ain’t a halfway house, darlin’. Come and go as you please. As long as I have you by my side when us pair of workaholics finally go to bed, then I ain’t fussed.”

“You sure?”

He pulled her down to his level, kissing her, resting his forehead to hers. “Never been surer. See you later, my beautiful love.”

Leaving the house when her Uber arrived at the front gate, Beth felt on top of the world. Finally, things were starting to go right, very right, both her love life and her career blossoming exponentially. It would only continue to get better, too.

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bakugosbratx · 3 years

Note

Sorry if I’m doing them wrong (new to requesting) But can I request a CEO!Bakugo x F!reader? Just some ruthless Bakugo spewing out insults and filth towards the reader left & right- 🤭

Warning: NSFW 18+ content. Sexual intercourse, cursing, degrading, bdsm, spanking, angry/hate unprotected sex, size kink, etc.

Click here to check out my other works

A/N: No worries, love! You did it fine. I hope you enjoyed and thank you so much for your request.

Part Two

Tags: @peachsenpie @awilddreamerwrites @milkthistletea @idfkwtfgof @quietlegends @miriobaby

Your back slammed against the wooden doors to your boss office as he held you by your throat. His crimson eyes screamed anger and lust as he towered over your cowardly body. You still remained tall, though, expecting this to happen.

“You really wanted to test your fuckin’ luck this week, huh?” Katsuki growls as his grip becomes tighter around your throat. The whore in you overtook your lips as a devious smirk appeared across them. You love the toxicity that is between you two. You knew you would be in this position when Monday afternoon rolled around. You and him both knew.

“What did I do wrong?” You squeak out, faux innocence coaxed your words. This infuriated the blonde. You know just how to get under his skin just like he does with yours.

“Don’t try to act stupid with me, slut. You know exactly what the fuck you were doing bringing him to the cooperate event.” Katsuki huffs, anger running through his grip. He lets go before you loose total circulation. Just looking at you is too much to bare. He wanted to devour and hurt you all at once. He will be sure you feel his wrath, but he wants you to be alive to feel it.

“We’re coworkers, remember?” You recall his exact words. He furrows his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but doesn’t mean you can go ‘round being a God damn whore. You brought my fuckin’ competitor of all damn people, Y/N. I should fire your ass.”

“Then do it.” You challenge, folding your arms across your chest. You already had your shirt unbuttoned so your cleavage can be viewed. It sure did catch Katsuki’s attention in the board meeting along with other lingering men’s eyes.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Katsuki scoffs, returning to face you. He begins unbuttoning what is left of your white shirt and discarding it to the floor. Hickeys covered your breast from the event you went to. Katsuki glared at you with disgust.

“Izuku leave these here, huh?” He scornfully chuckled. “That sick son of a bitch. Marking what he thinks is his, but he is mistaken. You’re my fucking assistant. You work for me.”

Katsuki grabs you by your hair and leads you to his dark wooden desk, bending you over it. This is not the first time you have been in this position nor will it be your last. Your black pencil skirt and panties is removed, leaving you in just your bra. Hickeys traced your thighs, something Izuku purposely left behind. You were not shy once a few drinks entered your system. Izuku knows what you and Katsuki do behind closed doors and he was more than happy to help you get under the man’s skin. They are rivals, after all. Why not use the event as a benefit?

Katsuki strolled over to the other side of his desk, unlocking it with a key. This drawer is specifically for you. He keeps all his toys and gadgets in there for when he needs them. Pulling out a hard wooden paddle with, your breath hitched slightly. You figured you would get some sort of punishment like this, but Katsuki is never gentle. Your ass is going to be sore for a few days once he is through with you.

“Yeah, you know what this is, don’t you?” Katsuki teased as guilt flooded your irises.

“I’m really sorry, sir. I’ll be good, I promise.” You whined. Katsuki snickered at your pleading, dragging the smooth blonde wood across your exposed ass. You only got the paddle when you really pushed your luck with Katsuki. This is one of those times.

“I’m sure you are. Count and thank me.” Katsuki instructs, lifting the paddle away from your ass. You brace yourself as the wood lands with great speed. You yelp in response.

“One. Thank you, sir.” You mumbled. Katsuki did not allow you time to prepare for the next one because another hard slap was delivered shortly after. “Two. Thank you, sir.”

The process continued. Your ass was sobbing from the multiple hard hits. Your knees began to buckle beneath you, but Katsuki used his free hand to hold you in place. Your whimpering is met with an extra hit. You are only halfway through and Katsuki is still not through with you.

“T-Twenty. T-Thank y-you, sir.” You cough, wondering how much more you can possibly take. Regardless, you are going to take it all. You are not supposed to enjoy it. Katsuki will make sure of that.

Another slap is delivered and you count as expected. You finally gave out at forty. Your tears and heavy breathing almost had Katsuki feeling bad. He doesn’t, though, as he noticed the slick drip down your thighs. His index and middle finger find refuge in your soaked hole.

“Tsk. Someone enjoyed themselves.” Katsuki grumbles, shaking his head. He removes his fingers to bring them to your mouth. You gladly suck on them. “Such a filthy little whore.”

Katsuki begins undoing his black suit-pants, his erected cock now out for your viewing. You have your mouth open, ready for him to fuck your face. He chuckles at your horniness.

“Cock hungry slut.” Katsuki degrades, grabbing you by your hair again and placing you on your knees. You did not even give him time to put the tip to your damp lips. Your tongue swipes his length and your kiss the tip before taking in every inch. Bobbing your head up and down, Katsuki uses his grip on your hair to control the speed.

“Yeah, like all my cock in your filthy fucking mouth?” Katsuki questions as he thrust his hips into your saliva filled mouth. You choke on his length as it slides in-and-out of your mouth. “Ha, is the whore struggling to take all of my cock? A dumb bitch like you should be able to take it all.”

You ignore his insults as you continue pleasing his erection. You hollow your cheeks and put more work into your tongue. Every vein in his girth is getting extra attention along with the head. You know how to please him like no other woman. Katsuki grumbling curse words under his breath and throwing his head back in pleasure is encouraging you to keep going.

Katsuki’s dick twitches and pre-cum leaks from the tip. You swallow every drop as is floods from him. That was your intent, but Katsuki has other ideas in mind. A string of saliva connected your lips and Katsuki’s cock.

“Whores don’t get to enjoy my cum,” he lets go of your hair and taps your cheek so you get up, “bend over my desk.”

You do as your told, bending over his desk. Katsuki arched your back more by pushing down on your spine. Aligning you with his cock, he enters deep into your tight walls. You are up every inch. Katsuki’s nails dig deep into your outer thighs as he thrust into you. His hips slap against your bruised skin. You cry out in pleasure and pain.

“Mmm Katsuki.” You sob as your knuckles turn pale from holding onto the desk for support. Katsuki pushed your head down into the stack of reports.

“Quit your bitchin’. You’re going to take all my fuckin’ cock and like it. Bet Izuku couldn’t even reach your fuckin’ cervix.”

You babbled nothings into the freshly printed papers below you. Drool sneered Katsuki’s ink signatures as he continues his rough rhythm. He was also sure to deliver slaps on your sore ass when he wanted to hear you cry for him. His ego needed the boost.

“Better not ruin my fuckin’ reports.” Katsuki hissed as he continued pounding you from the back. You attempted to apologize, but your lost of reality made it difficult too. “Look at you, I’m fuckin’ you so good you can’t even say a coherent sentence. Dumb bitch.” Katsuki snickered.

Your pussy stretched from his large girth, still never use to how big and long he is. You loved it. No one can make you feel as good as Katsuki can. He knows just how you like it. He knows how to get you soaked by a single glance. He knows just how to please you.

Katsuki could not contain himself anymore as cum released from his cock. Your tight pussy swallowed every single drop. Katsuki is not removing himself until you are filled with his sperm.

Once you are stuffed, he taps your outer thigh with heavy breathing. “Get dressed.” Katsuki commands, fixing himself also. You gather your act there’s clothes and straighten yourself out. Your makeup is sneered and your hair a mess. Everyone in Bakugo Industries has already speculated what goes on between you two. There is no need to hide it, but something you can’t seem to understand is that Katsuki came in you. He never comes in you. He does not want kids. At least, that is what he always said. There are no strings attached.

Just a couple of coworkers, right?

©bakugosbratx

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avewritesmr · 3 years

Note

Stray kids reaction to y/k having tattoo sleeves? 🙏🏻 I’ve seen reactions where they specified a couple tattoos but I wanna know what their reaction would be with someone that has sleeves. Or wants to get more tattoos (; also could some of the settings be like on a date? Like during the stage where they’re getting to know y/k?) thnx 💓

Reaction to boyfriend who has a tattoo sleeve

A/N: So I only did three members (picked at random) to avoid this getting repetitive, I think I strayed a little off topic, not sure, but please let me know what you think of it anonie, I loved writing it, and I am so sorry it has taken me so long to write it, all the love and in hopes of having more time to write now that college application and decision time is coming to a wrap 💖

Seo Changbin (Implied NSFW Content)

y/n and Changbin meet on the coldest day of winter, it’s literally freezing and the entire city is basically iced over.

y/n is the new producer at JYP and it just so happens that Changbin is asked to work with y/n on a project.

At first Changbin is really skeptical, y/n is this quiet, kind of scary looking person and he communicates through glaring and frowning instead of words.

Then Changbin starts to slowly get to know him and things change, he finds out that y/n isn’t rude or scary and they get pretty close throughout the time they are working on the project.

When they are no longer work colleagues and the project is complete, Changbin works up the courage to ask y/n out on a date.

They don’t officially date or anything for a while, they go out together on a couple dates and hang out, they spend lots of time together and it is very obvious they are both basically in love with each other.

y/n doesn’t try to hide his tattoos or anything, Changbin’s seen a few of them, the one on the side of his neck and the ones on his wrists and knuckles but he’s never seen the whole thing.

Then one day they’re sitting in Changbin’s studio and somehow y/n spills an entire thing of iced coffee on himself and he’s only wearing a long sleeved shirt.

Changbin has a spare shirt from dance practice so he goes to grab it and in the meantime y/n pulls his dirty shirt off.

Changbin finds the shirt in a drawer and turns around to give it to y/n and he just freezes.

y/n doesn’t even notice him staring, he takes the shirt offered to him and slips it on going back to whatever he was doing before while poor Changbin stares on in shocked silence. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You have so many tattoos.” Changbin mutters quietly.

y/n smiles slightly, “You don’t like them?”Changbin shakes his head quickly, he loves them, if he had wanted to kiss y/n before now he wants to jump the other man’s bones, he thinks they are hot and such a turn on.

y/n seems to understand as much and he goes out of his way after that to put them on display even though it’s still freezing outside.

Changbin isn’t complaining (at first), after a while he just finds himself staring at y/n’s tattoos, they aren’t even officially dating so he can’t just grab y/n’s arms and trace over the tattoos or ask the older to do anything to him.The whole thing leads to a lot of frustration on Changbin’s end and a lot of amusement on y/n’s.

“You know you can look at my tattoos if you want, you don’t need to look away every time I look in your general direction.”Changbin’s cheeks flare read but he hesitantly moves to sit closer to y/n and runs the tips of his fingers across one of the many tattoos.

“They’re so hot.” Changbin slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it, y/n on the other hand finds this hilarious.

“Are they?” He is so close to Changbins face and his arm has moved to wrap around Changbin’s waist.Changbin remembers every thought he’s ever had about y/n’s hands and the tattoos and what he wants the older to do to him and he can see all the tattoos so close that it makes everything so much worse.

y/n’s smirk is enough to convince him to move towards the older and pull the other’s arm around his waist, he has no idea where the confidence comes from but at this point he has nothing to lose and he’s been fantasizing for way too long anyways.

Things end up so much better than he had every dreamed of and he has to concede that tattoos are the hottest thing ever, especially when they’re y/n’s and they stand out on white knuckles that hold Changbin’s hips down.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin loves tattoos, he thinks they're cool and the moment JYP lets him get a tattoo (I am not sure if he already has a tattoo tbh) he is getting a tattoo because tattoos are just so cool.

So why doesn't Hyunjin know that his boyfriend (of like 4 months) has enough tattoos to cover 90% of the skin on his right arm? Simple, answer.

y/n is an idol, he isn't aloud to show his tattoos on national television, and since a lot of his initial interactions with

Hyunjin had been backstage at music shows...

music shows = no tattoos being shown.

So let's go back to the beginning to get a clear picture

Hyunjin and y/n first meet at a music show backstage, Hyunjin has heard of y/n but he hasn't really seen pictures of the other that often and now he is face to face with probably the most attractive person he has met in a long time.

y/n is leaning against a wall in the hallway outside the bathroom in a beautifully tailored suit and Hyunjin, who is walking out of the bathroom, is completely enamored by this man that he might know the name of but can't be sure.

person walks past Hyunjin and y/n shoves his phone into his pocket talking happily to said person before they disappear down the hallway.

Detective Hyunjin mode = activated.

His detective work involves a quick google search to identify what group y/n is in and confirm his name, turns out he was right about the name and so he spends the next 2 hours of waiting before he has to preform just scrolling through pictures and tweets about y/n.

He resolves that day that he needs to talk to the other no matter what it takes, he just needs y/n's number.

His first plan is to recruit Jisung and Jeongin's help because they tend to find talking to new people easier and maybe he won't be as awkward if he talks to y/n with other people present.

This plan falls through very quickly because instead of helping all Jeongin and Jisung do is laugh at him.

He turns to his second (and last) plan.

Lee Minho is 2 months older than y/n, so maybe by some stroke of luck Minho knows y/n, or someone in his group, and Hyunjin can maybe convince Minho to help him start a conversation with the other.

Hyunjin is in luck, not only is Minho more empathetic about his hardships than Jisung and Jeongin but he just so happens to know y/n well enough to be able to walk up to him and strike up conversation.

Hyunjin follows Minho with gradually decreasing confidence. Sure he is going to get the chance to talk to y/n, which is what he wanted, but what the hell is he going to say?

Should he just ask for the others number?

Just introduce himself and maybe y/n will ask for his number? Maybe he can just turn around now and run away before this gets particularly embarrassing for him?

Maybe the floor underneath him will open up and swallow him whole because good lord y/n just smiled in his general direction and why are there so many people in this area at this specific time?

Turns out y/n wasn't smiling specifically at him, he was smiling more at Minho.

"This is Hyunjin, he wanted to tag along."

"Hey, I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you." Maybe his smile will kill Hyunjin before he remembers how to talk.

"uhh-hh, yes I know, I- uh, Hyunjin." God why was that so awkward someone save him, where did Minho walk off to? who is that? why did he take Minho away from him?

"Are you okay?"

"yeah, yeah, I am good." god he needed salvation right now.Basically, Hyunjin is awkward and nervous and he feels like the first meeting is a complete disaster and y/n will never talk to him again.

Somehow though y/n decided he isn't pitiful enough to ignore and walk away from, it takes a bit of prodding and joking on y/n's part for Hyunjin to relax a little and they hold a decent conversation. When Minho informs Hyunjin they have to head back y/n is typing his number into Hyunjin's phone and urging him to send a text whenever.

y/n and Hyunjin talk often after that, they meet again just a little over a week later backstage at a music show again and decided that they should take the risk and start dating.

They're moving a little quickly true, but, they can learn more about each other as time goes on.

Neither one of them is necessarily free at any one point in time, they see each other at a few events but their dating is limited to talking over the phone and basically texting all the time.

And then the day comes.

Hyunjin has the day off and y/n has wrapped up a photo shoot, the timing is perfect, the managers are okay with it and Hyunjin is buzzing with excitement because it's been almost 4 months and he is going to go to his boyfriend now.

They decide to meet at y/n's empty dorm just to be in each others presence.

So Hyunjin is standing outside the dorm door waiting for y/n to let him in and he is just shaking with happiness.

So when y/n opens the door with his hair a little messy and no make up on, Hyunjin's first instinct is to launch himself at the other and hug him as tightly as he can.

They might not have been able to see each other these last four months but that doesn't mean Hyunjin hasn't learned enough about the other to love him.

y/n only laughs and pulls him into the dorm hugging back with a soft smile on his face.

Hyunjin is so busy hugging y/n that he doesn't see the tattoos covering y/n's right arm.

He doesn't see them in fact until after he's been ushered into y/n's room and is about to head towards the cat laying under the window.

He turns around to ask y/n about the cat's name and then freezes because holy mother of all beings is that a tattoo sleeve?

"Yeah, is it a problem?"

"A problem? god no!" Hyunjin moves closer to war his fingers around y/n's arm and raise it so he can inspect the intricate designs.

"They look so cool, this just makes me want a tattoo even more." y/n laughs, "I can take you to get one." Hyunjin looks up with starry eyes.

"Management would kill, but I don't really care anymore."

"Maybe you should get it okayed before you do anything?"

"If they try to kill me you'll come riding in on a motorbike and wearing a leather jacket and save me." Hyunjin replies with a serious face.

y/n laughs, "That is just a stereotype, my mom would kill me if I got on a motorbike."So what did Hyunjin learn today?

He definitely wants a tattoo and wouldn't mind getting yelled at by management for getting one behind their back. He wants y/n to go with him because this man is an expert and if anyone (y/n included) disagrees then Hyunjin will be inclined to fight them.

y/n is 100% a mama's boy and Hyunjin is living for it (Another one of his life sources at this point in time is y/n's tattooed arm wrapped around his waist but he doesn't want to discuss those emotions just yet).

Yang Jeongin (I.N)

So y/n’s a barista at a cafe and that is how Jeongin meets him first, it is late summer, the uniform for the cafe workers is a button down white shirt so even though it is 35 degrees (Celsius) out Jeongin never sees y/n in anything but his work uniform which is a long sleeve button down white shirt.

After 2 months of (not really) subtle crushing Jeongin asks y/n for his phone number, they chat for a few days and then go on their first date in early October.

The date is a sweet, cliche outing, Jeongin is a blushing mess 90% of the time and y/n treats him with so much care. Dates aren’t that frequent after the first one but just before winter Jeongin and y/n make it official.

At this point it is so cold that there is never a moment for Jeongin to see y/n without a coat, hoodie or long sleeved shirt, so he lives a life of blissful ignorance for almost a month.

And then one day he is sitting at the counter in the cafe, y/n is just finishing his shift and Jeongin is waiting for him.

The manager walks by and tells y/n to clean up before he hands over to the next person and so y/n moves to the sink and rolls up his sleeves.

Jeongin isn’t really paying attention, he’s a little focused on his phone, but then he looks up.

😯 = Yang Jeongin when he saw y/n’s tattoos.

“Your face literally just derailed.”

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Well you didn’t really ever get a chance to see them.” Silence.

“I am sorry I probably should have told you before this.”Jeongin doesn’t respond to that, he doesn’t know how to, so he sits in silence contemplating the situation, while y/n finishes up. When they walk out of the cafe it is in strained silence, Jeongin doesn’t like it at all.

“Can I see them?”

“Sure, let’s go sit somewhere.”They end up on a park bench, y/n with his sleeves rolled up and Jeongin carefully tracing the ink covering y/n’s arm his eyes widened in awe.

“What’s the meaning behind thisone?”

“Nothing really, I got it because I thought it looked nice.”Jeongin laughs lightly and goes back to studying the tattoos on y/n’s arm, now that he is over the initial shock of discovering the tattoos he is enraptured by them.

He’ll probably stare at them whenever y/n wears something short sleeved, or rolls up his sleeves.

He genuinely thinks they are really cool and thinks his boyfriend is like a million times cooler with them.

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girl-by-the-lake · 2 years

Note

Pls don't get me started on Souya plsolOlzpls

You… You want an angry rant about… Angry?

I don't know if this makes sense and I got a little lost, but I'm a bit lightheaded and sooo this is... what it is. *shrug* good fucking luck making sense of anything.

*Image all of this is in all caps. It’d be a bit much if it was actually written in all caps… but I’m screaming in my head. :)*

MY LITTLE BOY BLUE NEEDS MORE LOVE, GOT IT?!, AND HERE’S WHY! >:(

Souya canonically carries around bandaids/plasters, which shows he’s thoughtful towards others in wanting to look after them when they’re hurt. It also shows that he can plan ahead, and fuck yeah we stan a bitch that has the braincells to not only respond to the current moments, but to think and plan ahead for future troubles! Souya’s better at that than even the one who can literally *go to the future and sometimes see the future*, so what the fuck is *his* excuse for not saving his friends?!

YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS SO FUCKING AWESOME AND NOT LOOKED AT ENOUGH?! SOUYA CAN COOK! Maybe this steals my heart more because I can’t cook for SHIT, but man’s is good enough at cooking and whipping up the best goddamn ramen to own his ramen shop at 20 something with Nahoya. LIKE WHAT?! A ramen shop?! In Japan!? Do you know how competitive that market is?! I sure as fuck don’t, but I know there were a shit ton of them when I was in Tokyo! So he is good enough at what he does, that he is able to thrive along with his business! Souya has brains, beauty, AND he can cook! How is everyone’s heart not stolen?!

Now, I know Souya’s kind of quiet and is nicknamed “Angry” for a reason but, haven’t you seen his smiling panels?! When he does smile, it’s the most rewarding and precious thing ever! How can you not want to wrap him up in your arms or in a blanket and just cuddle?

Meanwhile, you got this zebra looking ass, acting like he’s sooo cool sucking on a lollipop. Souya is so cool, his hair turned *blue*. (Ever heard the phrase ~cool blue~ anyone?).

Not to mention some other brothers who supposedly ~control Roppongi~. Souya took them down, no problem, and he only cried a little. Me writing these few sentences down is longer than their fight lasted, so that’s all the thought I care to waste about them.

But you know what’s even BETTER about Souya?! (and istg, if I jinx this… you won’t hear from me ever again… aka a week+, idk, imma disappear) - HE’S ALIVE (in the Tok Rev universe), BITCHES! So you can take your Baji’s, your Draken’s, your Shinichiro’s, Izana’s, Emma's, and go, because as of right now, at least Souya has a future and is still alive enough to get… well… angry. ;) (please oh please, don’t let this be a jix :’( )

Just by being Souya, he helps break apart and challenge some of the most damaging parts of toxic masculinity by his ability to be emotional and strong at the same time, taking on that more “feminine” role of caring for others by patching them up and by being a damn good cook.

But what gets me even more upset, even more than ~hE’s UnDeRrAtEd~... I just want to see Souya in the Souya tags! Why is trying to find him in his own damn tags just as hard as me trying to find a life purpose?! And I’m upset because I want all the cute content for him, but it’s limited which means *I* have to write it, and that’s not nearly as fun or as well written as when someone else does it! AND I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IF I’M THE WRITER OF ALL THE CUTE HEADCANONS! HE’S FANTASTIC, PLEASE GIVE ME MORE CONTENT I’M FUCKING PARCHED!

TLDR: GIVE SOUYA MORE LOVE GODDAMNIT! HE ALREADY HAS TO SHARE EVERYTHING BY BEING A TWIN SO STOP MAKING HIM SHARE HIS DAMN TAGS TOO! STOP PUTTING MIKEY, THE HAITANIS, SANZU, DRAKEN, AND EVERYONE ELSE THAT ISN’T SOUYA IN THE SOUYA TAGS IF HE’S NOT MENTIONED IN THE POST! IT MAKES ME VERY… ANGRY!

#Did this match the assignment? I almost just did headcanons but that wasn't what was asked so i might do those later this weekend to pass #some time #idk man #I just really like him okay :(#souya #souya kawata #tok rev #the one who has my heart #this is a *mess* but.... EH?! so is America and we all just keep on going so here we gooooooooo #also ... it's not a full on essay like I joked about XD #chaos enabler

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rosesdrabbleblog · 4 years

Text

Have a Drink With Me

Pairing: President!Wilbur x Fem!reader

Warnings: smut, hate fucking, cursing, 18+ content

Note: I’ve seen the concept of this thrown around by a few different people, and I just had to write a fic for it. Tagging one of my favorite writers aka @sallysimp because Wilbur content.

Ever since you heard about the L’Manberg presidential election, you had the idea of running for president. In fact, you boasted about being the one of the few female candidates. You had nothing against Wilbur, Quackity, Schlatt, or anyone else running for president. But you knew this was something you wanted to do.

You missed the angry glances Wilbur had sent your way. To you, he seemed kind and respectful. In reality, he was pissed at the fact that another person had decided to run for president. It was bad enough with the likes of Schlatt and Quackity, but you? Someone he barely knew a thing about? He wouldn’t have that.

You were a bit shocked when he invited you over for a drink. You didn’t know him that well, so you didn’t think a drink would do any harm. So you agreed. You would meet Wilbur over at his place the night before those running for president would make their speeches.

Wilbur greeted you at his door, a smile on his face. “Glad you could make it! I’ll be serving us some whiskey, and maybe a snack?” You nodded, “sounds good. I’m good with whatever.” He gestured for you to come in, and you did so. You felt awkward to be standing in his home, having barely known the guy for a couple of weeks or so. “Nice house,” you said shly, hanging your coat on his nearby coat rack.

He chuckled from the kitchen, “thank you, I built it myself.” You could hear the sound of him grabbing wine glasses as you sat down on the couch in the front room. You stared around the room, taking it all in. Despite only knowing him for a few brief encounters, the room suited him. You couldn’t explain it other than it just....was very him.

He returned with two glasses and a bottle, a grin on his face. He Wilbur settled in next to you before pouring the whiskey into the two glasses. He raised his to toast you, which you accepted. You both took a sip after your glasses clinked, and it wasn’t even a second later when he said, “so, running for president, hmm?” You took another sip, nodding. His smile faded a bit as he continued, “now, why would you go and do that? I mean, do you even know anybody in L’Manberg?” “Does it really matter? I want to help keep this country safe, and I can do that without knowing the full story of everyone that lives here,” you said almost proudly. That earned a glare from him as he took another sip. You took a sip as well, eyes locked onto his. Despite the tense conversation, you weren’t gonna back down easily.

He chuckled, “god, you think you have a chance tomorrow? You think you can win against me, love?” You hated the way your stomach grew butterflies from his tone and words, “yes, I do think I can win against you.” Wilbur’s jaw tightened, and he set down his now empty glass. Without a second thought, he poured himself another drink. He settled back into the couch, watching you grab the bottle as well. Just to piss him off, you took a sip from the bottle itself. You wanted to laugh as you watched a look of shock come across his face. “Oh, you fucking-“ he muttered under his breath, now looking pissed. You went to grab another sip when he grabbed your arm, stopping you from doing so. “I let you into my home, I offer you a drink, and this is my repayment?” he growled, his brown eyes narrowed as he stared intensely at you. You put on a condescending smile, “and what about it?”

Wilbur set down his glass again before he reached out and grabbed your jaw, forcing the smile off of your face. “God, you piss me off, love,” he growled, “so. Fucking. Much.” Part of you wanted to slap him for being an asshole. Part of you also wanted to piss him off even more. “What are you going to do? Stop me from running for president?” you taunted, “too bad, pretty boy. I’m going to make you look like an idiot tomorrow. In front of all your friends-“

Wilbur cut you off by shoving his fingers into your mouth, causing you to gag in surprise. “I’d shut up if I were you,” he said darkly. And something about the way his fingers felt in your mouth and the intensity of his gaze made you let out a moan. His eyes widened, and he looked rather confused. They narrowed again as he let out a dark chuckle, “oh, what’s this? Don’t tell me I’m running for president against a slut.” If you weren’t thinking about how hot he was before, you certainly were now. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and wiped them onto the couch, looking at your lips intently. Without much of a warning, he dove in and kissed you roughly, his hand back up and gripping the side of your face.

Wilbur pushed against you, forcing you to lay down on the couch. You could see that he was beginning to get hard in his trousers. “Oh, did pretty boy get a hard on from that?” you taunted, rolling your hips up into his. He let out a moan at that, his hips rolling in response, “shut up.” He got his revenge by unbuckling you pants and nearly ripping them off of you. Wilbur began to tease you through your underwear, a smirk on his face. “Oh, someone’s enjoying this a little too much,” he taunted. You couldn’t even find the words to taunt him again, lost in the feeling of his long fingers against you. He soon moved your underwear away, his eyes darkening as he saw you were enjoying it. Wilbur teased only a moment more before slipping one of his long fingers into you, smirking as you moaned. “Ah look at that, she is a little whore. And so tight...” he taunted again. It wasn’t long until another finger pushed into you. You whined at the intrusion. “Oh fuck you,” you hissed. Wilbur just grinned at you, “impatient, are we?”

And just when you were about to cum, his fingers were gone. You glared up at him, angry that he edged you like that. Your glare soon went away as you watched him pull out his hard cock. Wilbur gave himself a few soft strokes, letting out a few groans. If you weren’t desperate to hate him, you would have almost thought he was cute. His cheeks were pink, and his hair and forehead were sweaty. Perhaps you did find this image attractive, just a bit.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the feel of his cock pushing against your soaking entrance, him looking at you with an eyebrow raised. You nodded, looking away in embarrassment. Wilbur scoffed, but nevertheless pushed into you slowly. You whined at the intrusion, and he let out a moan as you clenched around him. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, you’re so tight,” he said shakily, keeping himself from moving for a moment. After what seemed like eternity, you scoffed, “well? Are you just gonna sit there? Thought the guy running for president would at least know how to fuck someone.”

You couldn’t tell if you regretted your words or not as he pulled out before thrusting into you roughly after that. You clutched to his back, whining loudly. He smirked as he began to thrust into you again, building a rhythm as he leaned down to bite at your neck, littering it with dark bruises. Wilbur took one of his hands to grip around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make you sob out a moan. “Look at you, absolutely giving yourself over to me,” he taunted, grinning widely, “sobbing over how good my cock feels. Such a cockslut...” Your nails dug into his back as he sped up his thrusts, the hand on your neck tightening slightly. “Wil-Wilbur...I’m gonna cum,” you panted out, already so close to coming. His grin only grew, “yeah? You gonna cum on my cock?” Wilbur yanked your chin up so you looked right into his eyes as he said, “then do it, slut. Cum on my cock.” With a few deep thrusts from him, you came with a loud moan. He groaned as you clenched around him, slowing down just for a moment. You stared at him in confusion, “why did you..?” You were sitting up just as he thrusted into you again, catching you off guard. Wilbur smirked as he said, “oh, I’m not done with you. Not yet. I’m going to make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” You whimpered out from overstimulation as he sped up his thrusts again. This was going to be a long night....

Wilbur brushed off his jacket as he walked up to the podium to deliver his speech. On the outside, he seemed calm and collected, giving a rather impressive speech to the audience below. But he was trying his best to hold back a maniac grin as he spoke. For you weren’t there to deliver your speech. Wilbur Soot had fucked you until you just about passed out, and had overslept due to exhaustion. In fact, you had gotten up in realization halfway through the event. Standing up on wobbly legs, you got dressed and made your way to the gathering. Wilbur had just about finished his speech when he saw you walk up, his smile fading into a look of hidden anger.

You looked like shit, eyes baggy and clothes a bit wrinkled. Nevertheless, you made your way to the podium after, delivering your speech to the crowd. You had even gotten a few claps after you had finished. The crowd, in fact, seemed to like you.

And that pissed Wilbur off even more. It was getting harder to keep his anger at bay. You walked off the podium and were dragged behind the large structure. “Oh, you little bitch,” Wilbur snarled. You smirked at him, “oh? Did your little plan fail, pretty boy? Better luck next time.” Wilbur looked frightening almost, the dark look on his face both exciting and scaring you. He chuckled darkly, “oh, you’ll get what’s coming to you, love. I promise that.”

With that, the two of you walked back to the audience, pretending the tension between the two of you was nonexistent. Despite the hatred you held for one another, you both knew the previous nights events wouldn’t be a one time thing.

#c!wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #myct x reader

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear.

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid.

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room.

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?”

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.”

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.”

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!”

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him.

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.”

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?”

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions.

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.”

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?”

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.”

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression.

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.”

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.”

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours.

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you.

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.”

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?”

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.”

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.”

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure.

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.”

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?”

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.”

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.”

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.”

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?”

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.”

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.”

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.”

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.”

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?”

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.”

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes.

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.”

#hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #hannigram #hannigram x reader #the sommelier #wine #tw trauma #tw victim blaming #tw alcohol

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