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propertyofwicked · 28 days

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YOUR NECKLACE - LN

no warnings just fluff + some SMAU <3 (one mention of sick, no specific detail)

-> lemme know ur thoughts! my inbox is open!! <3

masterlist the playlist

after successfully keeping their relationship secret for 9 months, lando truly believed it was time for him to properly introduce his girlfriend to the world of motorsport. she’d attended races before but always under general admission, usually alone, but sometimes accompanied by the likes of max and p. and it wasn’t as if the fans didn’t know who she was, they just knew her as ‘y/n who works with quadrant’, ‘y/n that reset the cones in the driving video’, ‘y/n that keeps her social media private’ - never once being considered lando’s girlfriend, which worked well for the two.

the panic had set in that morning as she dressed for the day, her hands constantly running over her outfit, checking the way she looked in the mirror from every angle - she wanted to believe that no one would care, or even notice that she was there, but deep down she knew that making the jump from general admission to paddock would gain some chatter on twitter.

“you look perfect,” lando had whispered in her ear from behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist as he tugged her away from the mirror.

“maybe they’ll just think im helping with a quadrant project,” she said absentmindedly, more trying to convince herself than actually respond to him.

“maybe,” he nodded along with her, mulling over his next words, “we can walk in separately if you want? they might not assume anything if they don’t see us together?”

“it’s not that i dont want us to be seen together,” she told him as she moved to the floor, tying her shoelaces up, “i just hate to think what’ll be said about me if they do.”

“i know, angel,” he reassured her, offering out a hand to pull her up, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead when she returned to his level.

the journey to the track was a quiet one, the two of them engaging in light conversation, eventually deciding they’d just walk in together, keep PDA to the minimum and ‘run and hide at the first sign of trouble’ y/n had joked.

lando paced up and down his drivers room, the sleeves of his racing overalls swinging with every step, from where they sat around his hips. he was getting into the right mindset, music playing, and yet his mind raced with every fear of the looming race.

“sit in the garage,” he asked her, halting his pacing to turn and face her.

“what?” she replied, half unsure she’d misheard him.

“watch from the garage - please,” he repeated moving to take steps towards her, noticing the way her fingers twisted at the rings that adorned them.

“are you sure?” she checked, as he grabbed her wrists to stop her anxious fiddling.

“never been more sure in my life,” he told her, using her arms to pull himself closer, joining the two of them in a sweet kiss.

“ok, ill be there,” y/n responded against him, parting only for a moment before connecting their lips again. the kiss was short and sweet, cut off by oscar knocking telling him it was time to go.

she stood in the garage, smiling at a few engineers she recognised before finding herself a seat. the nerves were washing over her again, but now they were for lando. y/n always worried during races, scared on his crashing, worried he wouldn’t perform as well as everyone knew he could. her hand reached up to her chest, instinctively searching for her necklace - lando had bought it for her before they were even together, knowing from the moment she smiled at it and looked up to thank him that this was it for him, she was his future. but the necklace wasn’t there, the girl panicked slightly, fearing she had lost it or it had fallen off before concluding that in her distraction this morning she had simply forgotten to put it on.

that’s ok, you’re a grown woman who can control her nerves. you don’t need a necklace to calm yourself down - you’re not even the one racing she told herself, letting out a deep sigh as she tried to believe herself. no one else in the garage seemed to notice her, a fact she was fairly happy about, hoping that the same would be said for the hundreds of news and tv stations priming their cameras for the race.

but someone had noticed her, recognising the look on her face as the same one she had been wearing all morning. only lando could decipher what her expression meant - she was nervous, of course, scared for him, but also filled with a small buzz of excitement - he couldn’t quite understand how one person could feel so much all at the same time, and not combust on the spot. nevertheless he jogged over to her.

“lando? aren’t you supposed to be like, getting your helmet on?” she asked him, shocked slightly at his sudden appearance. he looked at her, his hand tugging at the top of his fireproofs and pulling his own necklace from where it was trapped behind the fabric.

“forgot to take this off,” he told her, hands moving behind his neck to unclasp the metal, “will you look after it for me?”

she nodded up at him, her outstretched hands halted as he stood close, hands moving the metal around her own neck and clasping it. the metal dropped against her skin, the warmth from him wearing it transferring to her.

“thanks, love you,” he told her, a rushed kiss planted on her lips before he jogged away from her again.

his face carried a smirk as he left her, knowing he hadn’t truly forgotten to take the piece of jewellery off. in actual fact, he’d noticed her missing necklace the moment they’d arrived at the track and made it his mission to have his own hung around her neck, almost as a badge of honour. the two had agreed to keep their relationship private from the public, somewhat of a secret - but now she sat in his garage, wearing his necklace. it was the bare minimum display of the love they shared, but it was enough for him, and it was enough for her.

oscar quirked his eyebrow at his teammates smirk, receiving a quick tell you later before the two pulled their balaclavas down.

the gesture was so simply and so subtle and the girl was oblivious to the moment being caught on camera. the moment a yellow flag was called, the sky tv cameras filled the wait time by zooming in on the faces of loved ones sitting in each drivers garage. however, y/n remained oblivious to the lens focusing closely on her, the camera closely capturing the way she fiddled at the necklace before dropping it as normal lap conditions resumed.

"good day then?" y/n asked him softly, her head resting on his bare chest as she listened to his heart beat - lando felt the way her cool fingers fiddled with the necklace around his neck. that godforsaken necklace, quite frankly the only necklace to ever cause so much uproar online.

"soft launched on live tv and p3? i wouldn't have it any other way," lando replied softly, chucking lightly as his hand brushed through her hair.

“that checks out, mr nowins,” she teased, tilting her head to grin at him.

"being with you is a win in itself," he replied, taking the nickname in his stride.

"gross," the girl responded, pretending to vomit at his attempt at being cute.

“i am sorry though - i should’ve known that would happen, i should’ve checked with you before hanging the “lando’s girlfriend” sign around your neck,” he replied with a sigh, his head dropping to press a kiss to her forehead, his cheek resting on her head as they spoke.

“it’s ok lan, i knew there was a possibility of something like this happening,” she replied.

“and it was fairly subtle - we could probably play it off for a little longer,” lando suggested, knowing that neither of them were quite ready to expose the extent of their relationship just yet. at least this had given them the opportunity to be a little more careless with their efforts to hide from the public. they were private, not secret, and lando couldn’t be happier to preserve this part of his personal life for a little longer.

“im just glad we no longer have the responsibility of a big announcement,” she laughed, “god knows we’re both too lazy for that.”

“who’s we?” he grumbled jokingly, “im the one with the public account. besides, im more than hard launched on your page.”

“ah the joys of an ordinary life,” y/n joked, her arms stretching out in feigned bliss, “however i feel like i should steer clear of twitter for a while.”

“that’s probably for the best,” he agreed, his tone saddening slightly at the memory of things he’d seen posted about not only his ex girlfriend, but some of the claims people had already began making about the girl lying below him.

“hey!” she started noticing his change in mood, and pushing her body weight back to look at him, “none of that. today is a good day. trust me, ill take any excuse to get my screentime down.”

“i love you,” he told her, grabbing at her body to pull her back into his embrace, “more than you could imagine.”

liked by maxfewtrell, team_quadrant and 111,230 others

landonorris soft launching on live tv wasn't enough, time to promote her to the gram

comments on this post have been limited.

maxfewtrell so glad i dont have to worry about slipping up on stream anymore

-> maxfewtrell chat aren't ready for what i have to say.

maxfewtrell 2nd photo is a violationnn - ynpng, pietra.pilao u gonna let this slide?

-> ynpng am i fuck. pietra.pilao we ride at dawn.

-> pietra.pilao omw queen.

-> maxfewtrell run landonorris whilst u still can

-> pietra.pilao you told me you deleted that photo maxfewtrell - sleep with one eye open xx

ynpng hate u with every fibre of my being rn <3

-> landonorris nuh uh

-> ynpng gonna unprivate my acc and let the world see the video of you falling down the stairs

-> landonorris might accidentally leak the video of you and the shoe incident

-> ynpng you wouldn't dare.

-> landonorris you wanna bet?

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister #lando norris smau

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ohproserpine · 3 months

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vii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), allusion to death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Rocks and twigs dug into your knees as you crawled forward, the jagged edges cutting your skin as you reached Alastor's side. With trembling hands, you cradled his face against your lap.

"Alastor," you called for him, desperately clutching onto his body, trying to pull him back down to Earth and hold him there "Al, Al, please."

"What did I do? What can I do?" More tears dribbled down your cheeks as you looked down at your husband, leaning in to press tender kisses to the apples of his cheeks. You held him as tightly as you could, careful not to cause him any more pain.

"I can figure out a way to help you, I can. I know I can, baby," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. Your gaze remained locked with your husband's lifeless eyes, the world spinning around you as panic tightened its grip on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Al. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

˚୨୧₊♱

You woke with a startle.

Gasping for breath, your chest heaved with each inhale, the rapid beat of your pulse slamming against your ribcage, the sound hammering in your head. Blinking repeatedly, your vision slowly adjusted to the unfamiliar sight of a ceiling painted with outrageously colorful prints. Faint traces of neon lights filtered through the thin curtains, casting erratic patterns across the room, accompanied by the distant thump of music.

A gentle knocking at the door broke through the haze, accompanied by the muted tones of a familiar voice seeping through the metal barrier.

"Dollface? Are you up?" Vox's voice, though muffled, was unmistakable as it filtered through the door.

Shakily, you pushed yourself up and sat for a while, gathering your composure. The room spun around you, the vibrant colors of the walls and lights blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Eventually, with a deep breath, you pushed yourself into action, moving to open the door.

As you swung it open, Vox stood on the other side, his signature smirk etched onto his features. His mechanical eyes gleamed as they scanned you for any signs of distress or fatigue. And despite your disorientation, you straightened your posture, trying to maintain your usual demeanor in front of him.

"Good morning," Vox greeted smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Of course, he wasn't interrupting anything. It was clear to both of you that you had just rolled out of bed. Your hair tousled in disarray, your sleepwear crumpled and creased, and your bed behind you a mess of twisted sheets and pillows.

Still, you forced a polite smile and shook your head.

"No, not at all," you replied.

"Excellent," Vox grinned, stepping a foot past your doorway. "May I come in?"

Despite the internal alarm bells ringing in your mind, you nodded, moving aside to let him in. As he passed by, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized, like prey under the gaze of a predator before the pounce.

Closing the door, you leaned against it, feeling the cool surface against your back, and turned to face Vox, attempting to hide the unease simmering within.

"What can I help you with?" you asked, keeping your tone steady.

Vox's gaze pierced yours, his mechanical eyes glinting with a hunger that unsettled you.

"I thought of how we could discuss the details of our partnership," he hummed, running his fingers along your dresser. "Over dinner, perhaps?"

The proposal hung in the air, heavy with implications you weren't sure you wanted to explore. Despite your best efforts to hide it, a seething sense of unease bubbled beneath the surface, twisting your features into a grimace.

"Dinner?" The word felt like acid on your tongue as you struggled to maintain your façade, your gaze sharpening into a glare aimed directly at the overlord. "I'm sorry, but… I'm not interested."

Vox's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere, but it sounded forced and hollow.

"I meant a professional meeting, love," he covered up with a wave of his hand, the charm in his voice slightly strained. "Let's go over your contract."

Relieved, you nodded, though beneath, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled.

This could be a chance for you to really have a gauge on your situation. Everything had happened so fast, and you found yourself stumbling in the dark. You knew the Vees were a powerhouse in the entertainment district, their influence stretching far and wide, extending into every corner of hell. They were notorious for their employment methods, for their ability to shape destinies and manipulate lives with the stroke of a pen.

Who knows what was even in your contract?

"Wonderful!" Vox's cheerful interruption jolted you from your thoughts as he extended his arm. "Well then, let's not waste any more time. Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" you spoke slowly, your tone guarded.

"Shall we get to your duties, my dear?" Vox clarified smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his words laden with expectation. "Velvette is waiting."

"Oh—" you jolted. Quickly, you gathered yourself, smoothing down the wrinkles of your robe and adjusting your disheveled hair with clumsy fingers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you reached out and linked your arm with Vox's. The overlord smirked as he led you out of the room and through the corridors, already launching into conversation about his latest product line.

A part of you found it amusing how similar he was to your husband—both of them chatterboxes who couldn't keep their mouths shut if they tried.

Nodding along to Vox's conversation, you fell into step beside him. As you two walked, it was impossible not to notice the subtle shift in demeanor among the demons and imps, who hastily cleared a path for Vox, some even bowing respectfully as you passed by.

"And here we are!"

Arriving at Velvette's office, you entered cautiously, the tension thick in the air. Models lounged around in various states of undress, their statuesque figures draped in luxurious fabrics. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to suspicion as they observed your every move. Some whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, casting wary glances in your direction, while others maintained an aloof demeanor, their gazes piercing yet blank.

Velvette stood at the front, her figure partially obscured by the tall curtains behind her. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over you with open scorn.

"Finally! Took ya long enough," Velvette scowled. "Edna, will you please go get her dressed?!"

Edna, a tall and slender imp with delicate horns curved against her head, nodded obediently before gliding over to you. With a gentle tug on your arm, she beckoned you to follow her backstage. You stumbled nervously, clutching your robe as you obeyed.

As you stepped away, Vox chuckled, waving you off with a flourish. You offered a cautious wave back before being enveloped by the heavy fabric of the curtains.

"I know what you're trying," Velvette scoffed as she tapped away on her phone, her perfectly manicured nails, painted in a glossy shade of neon pink, clacking against the screen. Vox turned to her, his expression one of exaggerated innocence.

"Whatever do you mean?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Oh, please don't act as if you weren't sending marionnette over there heart eyes," Velvette accused, her crimson lips forming a thin line of disapproval. "Listen, I don't care what you do with your little girl toy. Just make sure you don't get in the way of my show."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Vox hummed, taking a seat on one of the plush couches.

Velvette turned to him, surprised, her curls bouncing from the abruptness of her movement. "You're staying?"

"Of course. I'm eager to see your dazzling ideas, my dear," Vox replied smoothly, spreading his long legs across the expanse of the couch. "After all, your show is going to be featured on my channels. It's all anyone has been raving about on Voxtagram lately."

"Cut the crap. You just want an excuse to ogle at her," Velvette scoffed.

Vox leaned back against the cushions, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Can you blame me? She's quite the sight to behold."

Before Velvette could snap back, Edna returned, leading you out from behind the curtains. You emerged, feeling somewhat exposed under the scrutinizing gazes of the two overlords.

No surprise, as the main act, you were dressed in one of Velvette's main designs. Black netted stockings hugged your legs as they met the bright red stilettos that adorned your feet. A red corset cinched your waist and emphasized the curve of your hips, accentuating your figure. Below the corset, you wore a dark miniskirt with cream ruffles and lace, its fabric swaying with every step.

You felt abash as you stood in the outfit. In the past, you had been considered a flapper girl with your bold demeanor and penchant for daring fashion choices, but even you couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at the lack of modesty of the skirt in this particular outfit. It barely grazed past your crotch, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

"Let's see…" Velvette hummed, completely absorbed in her task as she approached you, Vox long forgotten. With a couple of snaps of her fingers, the clothing and accessories you wore began to shift and change, transforming before your eyes.

Velvette's fingers danced through the air, conjuring delicate lace and cascading ruffles that stuck onto the corset. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a cream fur coat, draping it over your shoulders with a flourish. The colors morphed, the fabrics transformed, until finally, with a satisfied clap of her hands, she took a step back to admire your new look.

"Makeup!"

Suddenly, you yelped as a chair was dragged over, pushing against the back of your knees and causing you to fall right into it. A bunch of imps swarmed around you and they wasted no time in getting to work, dabbing various products onto your face and expertly brushing powder along your cheeks.

Once they were finished, they handed you a mirror, allowing you to inspect their handiwork. Unlike the outfit, the makeup look wasn't as unsettling. Your face was adorned with makeup reminiscent of classic clown makeup, featuring exaggerated lashes, a layer of white face paint, and a bold red lip.

"That's it! That's the one," Velvette grinned, delighted with the makeover. Her grin turned into a smirk as she turned to Vox. "Well, what do you think—Satan!"

Vox's screen began to glitch and buffer, emitting sparks of electricity that charred the couch beneath him. The sudden noise startled some of the models, their eyes widening in alarm as they scrambled to move away from the malfunctioning android.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Velvette shouted.

Vox tried to respond, but all that came out was static.

Concerned, you approached him, the clicking of your heels against the floor echoing.

As you settled beside Vox, there was a momentary pause in the static, and he stared at you with wide eyes, the malfunction seemingly halted by your presence.

Part of you screamed at yourself to leave, to let him handle his problems alone. But another part of you remained, despite everything. Somehow, you still felt a sliver of sympathy for the overlord.

Leaning in closer, you furrowed your brow, the red gloss on your lips catching the studio lights. The corset pushed your chest up, and Vox found his eyes shamelessly drifting.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, your voice laced with genuine worry.

But before Vox could respond, he short-circuited, a burst of sparks and smoke emitting from his malfunctioning screen. You recoiled instinctively, your hand reaching out to shield yourself from any potential danger. With a final surge of electricity, he powered down completely, leaving behind a smoldering heap of metal and wires.

"Is he… okay?"

Velvette waved a dismissive hand. "He's always doing this. Probably overloaded his circuits again."

"Now, can someone please get this thing out of here?!" she commanded, snapping her fingers and tapping her foot impatiently.

As the models and attendants hurried to comply, you were pulled back up to your feet by the overlord. "He'll reboot eventually. Now, let's get back to work."

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Vox, you followed after Velvette as she led the way to a photo studio within the boutique.

The scene before you was akin to a circus, with vibrant hues of bright reds and pinks resembling a Valentine's Day massacre. A carousel in the background spun slowly, its eerie music echoing through the studio. Beating hearts hung suspended from the ceiling, their rhythmic pulses visible as they dripped with blood.

"Alright! Let's get the rehearsal started!" Velvette shouted out as she began to direct the crew. Cameras were adjusted, lights were fine-tuned, and the set was re-arranged to her satisfaction.

Turning to you with a tablet in hand, Velvette tossed it into your hands. You caught the device and quickly read through the document on the screen, realizing it was lyrics to a song. Your eyes rushed to memorize the words, the familiarity of the process washing over you.

Decades in the show industry had honed your skills to perfection, making this routine feel like second nature. A small pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you of simpler times before everything went amiss.

“Alright.”

Barely giving you ten minutes to prepare, Velvette deftly plucked the tablet from your hands as she stepped back and settled into a director's chair. The chair creaked softly under her weight as she made herself comfortable, slipping on heart-shaped glasses that glinted in the studio lights.

"Let's see what you've got.”

Lifting the scepter to your lips, you pressed it against your mouth, leaving a trace of red lipstick staining the surface, a stark contrast against the sleek metal. As the lights dimmed, signaling the start of your performance, you took a deep breath and began to recite the lyrics.

I write poems to burn by firelight Drink champagne and guzzle gin Good girls call me "the town bicycle" Don't knock it 'til you've tried my life of sin

With a flick of your hand, you pushed back the curls of your hair, the strands catching the studio lights as you kept your gaze glued to the camera lens. From her chair, Velvette smirked and captured the moment with her phone, the flash briefly blinding the dimly lit set.

Oh, my pimp, knows never mess with me Last prick did that faded quick to black I have no idea where to find him, officers But if you do, please mention that I'd Like to have returned the pretty knife That I stuck ten times in his back—

Before you could even finish, the door burst open with a deafening bang, causing everyone in the room to jump in surprise. Valentino stormed into the boutique, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. Without uttering a single word, he launched into a violent rampage, his movements wild and unpredictable.

The air was filled with the sound of crashing props and the desperate, panicked screams of assistants as they scrambled to evade Valentino's wrath. You jerked back instinctively as an arm was thrown in your direction, narrowly avoiding the chaotic fray unfolding around you.

"Damn it, Valentino! What are you doing?!" Velvette shouted over the commotion, her voice strained with anger and disbelief as she dug her fingers into her hair, her perfectly styled locks now in disarray.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the moth demon screamed back, his voice seething with rage as he held poor Edna by her throat, his grip like a vice around her delicate neck.

"I'm airing out my frustrations!" he spat, his eyes wild with fury.

A sickening tearing sound filled the room as Valentino viciously tore Edna apart, blood splattering across the floor and staining the nearby racks of clothing.

"Fuck!" Velvette cursed under her breath. Fumbling, she retrieved her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen in agitation as she dialed Vox's number.

"My dear," the businessman's smooth voice echoed through the speakers, a calming presence amidst the storm. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the shit. Are you functioning now?" Velvette's words were clipped, forceful, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Functioning?" The overlord's response was hesitant, his movements jerky as he twisted his head, the wires on his neck audibly cracking with a spark. "I… suppose so."

"Good, because I need you up here now!" Velvette's voice crackled with urgency. "Mothboy is wrecking my department! And I'm waiting for a certain flat-faced prince to come and help!"

Without another word, Vox nodded with a weary groan, the weight of responsibility settling heavily upon him like an oppressive cloak.

"Just another fuckin' day with Val," he scoffed bitterly, his tone tinged with resignation as he pushed himself to his feet with a mechanical whir. "Fuck my life."

In an instant, he transformed into a crackling spark of electricity, zipping up into the CCTV camera before seamlessly teleporting into another one located in Velvette's studio.

"What's going on?" Vox sighed wearily as he materialized, his voice tinged with exhaustion, hands folding behind his back as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.

"Valentino's lost it again. And he's tearing everything apart," Velvette hissed as her hand shot up, grabbing Vox by the collar of his metallic frame.

Her nails dug into the surface, leaving faint marks as she pulled him down to her eye level. "You need to stop him before he causes any more damage!"

"Consider it done," Vox muttered, rolling his eyes before moving toward Valentino. With a firm grip, he halted the demon mid-carnage, spinning Valentino around to face him. An unsettling grin stretched across Vox's metallic features as he locked eyes with the enraged demon.

"Val! What's got you out of sorts today?"

“That piece of shit! Can you believe what he did?” Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he flung a small imp across the room, the helpless girl crashing into a clothing rack. “The ungrateful whore!”

"Uh huh, which whore are we talking about now?” Vox spoke nonchalantly as he pulled his phone out and idly scrolled through it. Before he could react, Valentino lunged forward, his claws snatching the device from Vox's grasp.

"Who else would I be talking about?!" Valentino spat, his grip tightening around the phone until it crushed in his hands. With a primal scream, he hurled the remains of the tech against a nearby wall, the impact causing the column to crack under the force of the blow.

You watched with a frown as Vox attempted to calm Valentino, but his efforts fell short against the demon's relentless anger. Despite Vox's attempts, Valentino continued to rage, his voice echoing through the room as he screamed about hotels, phone calls, and among other things you didn't bother picking up.

“Fuck. Alright, he's not calming down anytime soon,” Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to you and motioned for you to follow as she began storming out. “Come on."

Quickly, you nodded, falling into step behind Velvette as she navigated through the gory scene. Blood stained the bottom of your heels as you stepped past limbs and puddles of blood, bones cracked underfoot, and muscles squished beneath your weight. The overpowering scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fear.

The overlord guided you out of the room and towards the other side of the building, where a door adorned with your name on a golden plaque awaited.

"This is your dressing room. We'll have another shoot in a few hours, so get yourself prepped in here while I go take care of the piss baby," Velvette scowled, already busying herself with her phone again.

"Will do," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, grateful for the moment of rest.

"Good. I'll see you then," Velvette declared with dramatic flair, her vibrant curls swirling around her face as she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving a trail of her perfume lingering in the air.

As you were about to step into your dressing room, the door beside you suddenly swung open with a creak, revealing a slice of the pink-filled bedroom beyond. To your surprise, you were met with the familiar sight of a fluff of white hair. An accented voice filled the air, screaming into a phone, the sound echoing down the corridor.

"I told ya, I didn't mean to—," The demon turned to you and froze, his eyes widening as he dropped his cigar in shock. The carpet beneath your feet caught fire from the dropped cigar, but neither of you seemed to care.

He stared at you, wide-eyed.

Hands flying up to your mouth, you stared back.

For a minute, all you could hear was the muted sounds of Valentino's screaming from the phone speaker and the building's hustle and bustle

"Dollface?" Angel Dust finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he blinked dumbfounded. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Your heart dropped like a heavy stone, sinking into the depths of your chest. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stood there.

Everything was becoming too much to even process. Your body betrayed you as you lost your balance, collapsing and hitting the floor. A high-pitched ringing pierced your ears, drowning out all other sounds, as warmth seeped from them.

"Aw, shit," Angel Dust hissed in panic. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, dragging you into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Ending the call, he tossed his phone away and guided you to a plush couch, the fabric soft and inviting beneath your touch as you sank into its embrace. Angel Dust settled beside you, his presence comforting like a warm blanket on a cold night. He offered you a sympathetic smile, though slightly awkward, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured soothingly, his words a gentle caress to your troubled soul.

Opening his arms wide, Angel offered you a hug, and you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as he enveloped you in a comforting hug. Slowly, your senses came together as you nestled against him, the gentle rhythm of his breathing calming the storm of emotions raging within you.

"It's gonna be alright," he whispered softly, his voice a comforting murmur. Moving closer, he wiped away the warm liquid seeping from your ears. You could faintly see his hands moving away, stained with red. "You alright? What happened, mama?"

"A lot," you sighed, raising a hand to massage your temple as you recounted the events of the past 24 hours, from Mimzy's lounge getting busted down to your soul exchange with Vox.

Angel listened intently as you recounted the events, his expression shifting from concern to disbelief as he processed the gravity of what you had experienced.

"Damn, you've been through hell twice. You're one tough cookie, mama," Angel said with a warm smile as he reached for a brush on his vanity and gently ran it through your messed-up hair.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, a hint of laughter escaped you.

"You could say that," you sniffed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you let out a long-held sigh. "It's been a while since I've been able to let it all out like this. Most demons aren't exactly the nicest."

Angel Dust chuckled with a shrug, his hands gentle as he worked through the knots in your hair. "Yeah, I've… ah, been tryn'a to stay 'good' for a while now. Charlie's been real pushy with the redemption thing, and I thought, what the hell, why not?"

Suddenly, he paused his brushing and gawked at you, his eyes widening in realization. "Charlie! The hotel!"

Your heart skipped a beat as Angel Dust's words sank in. "The hotel," you echoed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place in your mind.

"Shit!" Angel laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, there ya go! I get off shift tonight, and I sure as hell can get my ass over there. Hell, I can leave right this instant if you want!"

"Won't Valentino be pissed?" you asked, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "You'll be—" Your gaze darted over to his discarded phone on the floor, which was buzzing with calls. "Well, already are in deep shit."

Angel Dust frowned, his expression hardening with resolve. He grabbed your coat and swiftly removed it, tossing it aside to cover the buzzing phone. "Fuck 'im. He can bark all he wants in the studio, but outside of it, he's got no power over me."

The spider leaned in, his touch as gentle as a soft breeze against your skin, his fingers delicate as they brushed a stray hair from your face. "I'll help you. So don't get your pretty little tits in a twist anymore, alright?"

With a heavy heart, you whispered your gratitude, bowing your head as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. Today had been bleak, but a glimmer of hope lingered for a brighter tomorrow.

"But I don't want to get you in trouble, Angel," you said softly, wiping away your tears, exhaustion washing over you. "I can wait until tonight."

Angel Dust's expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Nah, babe, ain't no trouble for me. Besides, waiting ain't my style, and I ain't about to let you deal with this mess alone."

"Plus," Angel grinned devilishly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, the corners of his lips curling up. "I know your man is going to tear shit down. And I want front row seats to all that drama."

˚୨୧₊♱

"NO!"

Charlie shrieked, her voice piercing the air as she lunged forward, her fingers grasping desperately at Alastor's piece on the gameboard. "Al! You can't just do whatever you want! You have to follow the rules!"

Alastor leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he regarded Charlie with amusement. "But my dear, where's the entertainment in that?" he purred as he tilted his head in mock innocence. "Rules are made to be broken, after all. So, I had a little fun with it."

"A little fun?" Vaggie scoffed from her spot on the floor, her brows furrowed in frustration as she idly shuffled the cards.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, dickhead," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "That's what you've been doing these past 2 hours. If you don't start playing properly, might as well not play. I mean—why did you even bother?"

"For the entertainment!" Alastor cheered, his grin widening as he rolled the dice once the turn landed on him again. With a flourish of his claws, he moved his piece three spaces, landing on an unclaimed building which he quickly purchased. "I came here because I love seeing you wayward souls struggle to accomplish something great, and fail spectacularly!"

Vaggie scoffed and rolled the dice, her hand deftly moving the piece along the board with a flick of her wrist. However, her expression soured noticeably when the piece landed on the Jail panel. She seethed and sank back, silently cursing her streak of horrible luck.

"Ah, like you are doing now!" Alastor smirked down at her like the asshole he was, punctuating his words with a clap of his hand. "Good job!"

Vaggie clenched her jaw tightly, her knuckles whitening as she lifted the board, readying herself to strike Alastor. However, before she could make her move, the door burst open, and Angel Dust rushed in with a gasp. He looked every bit disheveled, as if he had just run through all nine circles of hell.

Charlie's eyes lit up at the sight of him, and she lifted her hand, waving him over excitedly.

"Angel! Perfect timing. We need one more player for Monopurgatory," she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly towards the game board. With a gleeful expression, she plucked a piece from the board and held up a small metal figurine with a wide smile. "You can be the cupcake~!"

"Sorry, princess, I've got business," Angel huffed, brushing his hair back as he turned to Alastor. "Alright, freaks. We need to talk."

Alastor hummed, studying Angel with mild amusement. "My, my, such urgency," he remarked, his smile widening into a grin. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"It's about Vox," Angel replied, pressing his hands flat against each other. "I need to speak with you in private."

Alastor's grin faded slightly, and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at Angel. Well, this was certainly getting very entertaining.

After a moment of contemplation, Alastor shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever daze he had briefly fallen into.

"Vox, you say?" Alastor mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. With a nonchalant shrug, he pushed himself up, twirling his cane in the air. "Oh, well, in that case, let's chat."

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor moved forward and gestured towards the door, indicating for Angel to follow him. Charlie and Vaggie exchanged puzzled glances, but they remained silent, watching as both men left the room.

"You know, I'd usually never even think of entertaining you, and I'd rather let you deal with your own issues. But you seem to be in a great deal of suffering!” Alastor laughed heartily as he shut the door.

"So, pray tell, what happened? Did you get yourself entangled in another deal from a whim decision? My! I certainly hope you don't bring any of this into the hotel. What will the papers say?"

Angel rolled his eyes and cut Alastor's rambling short, jabbing a gloved finger into the Radio Demon's chest. "It ain't about me. And you're gonna want to listen because it's your missus that's in deep shit right now."

Alastor's eye twitched at the mention of you, a brief flicker of static and symbols dancing in the air. His crimson eyes bore into Angel Dust, his expression unreadable, save for the wide curl of his lips.

Inwardly, Angel smirked. If he didn't have Alastor's attention before, he sure as fuck had it now.

"What does my wife have to do with this?" Alastor quipped sharply, his claws delicately removing Angel Dust's finger from his chest. "I fail to see the connection. Do enlighten me."

"Wanna be enlightened?" Angel waved him over, "Then follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Angel turned on his heels and strode out of the hotel. Alastor followed closely behind, his red-clad figure cutting through the streets of hell like fire against the night.

A few streets later, they approached the border edge of the entertainment district, and Alastor halted abruptly, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.

"I don't particularly fancy this area, and I'd rather not enter," he scoffed, adjusting his coat and brushing away dust from his sleeves with a disdainful flick. "It's rather unsavory."

"Just look," Angel rolled his eyes, gesturing upwards towards the towering Vee tower, where a new advertisement had just been erected.

Alastor's gaze shifted upward, and he froze as he beheld your face plastered across the billboard, larger than life, dominating the skyline of the entertainment district. The vibrant colors of the advertisement clashed with the dark hues of the surrounding buildings, drawing attention like a beacon in the night. Beneath the image, in bold letters, was a sign that read: "Sponsored by VoxTek," stark against the backdrop of your image.

There was silence for a minute, then another, before a sharp crack split the air.

"Angel?" Alastor's chipper voice rang out as he stared up at the billboard with a manic grin. Crackling began to be heard as his limbs lengthened, each movement accompanied by the sound of bones shifting and sinewy muscles stretching beneath his ashen flesh.

"Would you be so kind as to…" His antlers began to grow in size, curling and twisting like the branches of a gnarled tree.

"—explain…" His eyes darkened, the whites turning to a deep, swirling black, while the pupils glowed with a golden light, resembling the flickering dials of an old radio.

"—what exactly am I looking at right now?" His hands elongated into grotesque claws, the fingers stretching and sharpening into razor-sharp blades capable of ripping flesh—or in this case, wires—with ease. As his claws extended, they stretched his glove to its limit until it tore right off, revealing the glint of his wedding ring.

"Vox got her soul," Angel replied immediately, his voice steady despite the horrifying sight in front of him. "Screens has her wrapped around his finger, and he's not planning to let go anytime soon."

Alastor's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack accompanying the movement.

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

˚୨୧₊♱

#im sorry for the shitty filler chapter :(( this was for the pacing and so i can prepare yall for the next chapter #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel velvette

3K notes · View notes

nachojaehyun · 4 days

Text

you give good love

pairing. brother’s best friend! idol! dino + fem! reader

summary. as lee chan’s eyes met yours again, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

playlist. kind of based off of you give good love by whitney houston but not really i was just listening to it while writing this

warnings. [PLEASE READ] reader is hoshi’s sister, mentions of freak dino 🫢, smut under the cut, PWP, afab reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom chan, pussy eating from the BACK, uses of pet names, chan has a BIG dick, BULGE KINK, very little dirty talking, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl please), creampie duh — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. pi-cheollin is the reason i live and breathe. also i might write chunsunie x pi-cheollin fics soon 😭 also thank you guys so so so much for 2K notes on the wonwoo fic 🙇‍♀️ super grateful for all your love, more soon. this is also my first ever long fic, so i hope you like it. enjoy!

“so yeah, those are the dates and timings of the flight. now, check your schedule.”

soonyoung could hear the ruffling of paper as he waited on the phone. the air con blasted in his face, evaporating any signs of sweat from his pores.

“yeah, i think i’ll be able to make it!” your voice chirped. soonyoung couldn’t help the smile on his face. “thank god! also, don’t worry about being lonely, jeonghan hyung’s sister will also be there, and also wonwoo’s sister.”

“i haven’t seen them in so long! wow, a true trip down memory lane,” you sighed, finally setting aside the calendar on your lap. “they ask about you a lot, i told you to exchange contacts with them!” your brother scolded you.

“i may have forgotten… but all that aside, how much do i need to pack?” you nervously bit your lip, contemplating how much shopping you would need to do.

“it’s a summer trip for one week, basically a mini vacation. pack a good amount of shirts and tops and modest shorts. bring your grandma style swimsuits for the pool.”

“grandma style swimsuit? oh please! i didn’t work out all winter to wear a one-piece!” you complained, flexing your biceps in front of the mirror. “i’ll bring what i want to bring.”

“and if i see any of these perverts staring at you, i’ll chop your head off too, yeah?” soonyoung sighed. “yeah yeah, they are the perverts. and you’re the polished lamb of jesus who has never gawked at wonwoo’s sister right?”

your rhetorical question has your brother stunned as he gapes into the abyss, his mouth filling up with the cool air from the air con. “i’m… how did you—” he begins, only to be cut off by the doorbell of his shared apartment.

“that’s the others. look, i’ll leave now, but make sure to pack properly, okay? text me if you need anything. see you soon.”

with that, he hung up. you smiled as you set down your phone, already deciding the outfits in your head.

as you walked over to your closet, your phone interrupted your thought process with a loud notification.

이찬: oi

이찬: did you get the plane tickets?

with a sigh, you texted back your brother’s best friend, who had somehow managed to find out about soonyoung inviting you.

you: ya, i will be coming.

you could see the dots bouncing on the screen, but you chose to ignore them. switching over to a music app, you started to scroll through and pick your random playlist.

your brother’s song, God of Music started to play and you threw your phone on the bed, enjoying the music.

you could text chan back later. he was really annoying, and it’s not like he meant anything to you anyway.

your phone buzzed with his notifications as you sorted through swim suits. “hmm, this makes my ass look fat right?”

as you landed in the jeju international airport, you gathered your luggage and made your way to the gates.

your brother was already waiting outside, clad in a mask and a cap. wonwoo and his sister accompanied him, smiling and waving at you.

“hey guys!” you hugged them, before fixing the crop top that rode up your waist. “i missed you so much!” minji (wonwoo’s sister) squealed.

the four of you got in the car after shoving your luggage in the back. wonwoo sat next to your brother, scrolling through his phone as you and minji chatted their ears off.

soonyoung couldn’t help but peek at the rear view mirror ever so often, catching glances of minji and smiling to himself.

you wanted to call him out, but decided against embarrassing your brother so early into the trip.

within 30 minutes, you had reached the share house. it was a beautiful property, surrounded by greenery. the sounds of waves crashing on the beach wallowed around you as you dragged your suitcase up the ramp.

“eunsok is dying to meet you! we must make a group chat this time, so that we remember to check up on each other, yeah?” minji helped you with your handbag, smiling as you nodded enthusiastically.

in front of the main door, you took in a sharp breath, before pushing the mahogany portico open.

immediately inside, you were greeted by jeonghan, joshua and mingyu lounging about on the couch. however, upon the sound of your entrance, eunseok ran down the stairs, engulfing both you and minji in a bone-crushing hug.

“i missed you!” she screamed, nearly tackling you on the floor. with a giggle, you hugged her back. “me too! its just sad that sophie couldn’t join us.”

muttering agreements under their giggly breath, the two helped you get up, and greet the others.

as you answered jeonghan’s questions about your well-being, you heard heavy footsteps from the stairs.

lee chan’s body appeared downstairs. when his gaze countered yours, you choked on your words.

it had been nearly 5 years since you had seen him in person. and wow, had he changed. dino, as he was famously known as these days, sported much bigger muscles, and a sculpted face. his hairstyle was finally suiting his face, a beautiful contrast to the bowl cuts you had seen him in during childhood.

for the first time in your life, you actually looked at him. and boy, did he look good. the tank top he wore showed off his body as he walked towards you, checking you out silently.

he had to admit, you surprised him. your black crop top, barely there jean shorts, and long brown hair came as a huge shock to chan.

he had remembered you as the snot-faced bratty sister of his best friend. the girl in pigtails who would cry every time he brought up your crush in middle school.

as lee chan’s eyes met yours, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

“hi,” chan finally placed himself in front of you, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “hi,” you breathed out, clutching the handle of your suitcase tighter.

“oh, you guys are meeting after so long!” mingyu chuckled, his eyes wandering around the room as he noticed the tension between you and his youngest member.

“yeah,” you smiled, transfixed by chan’s eyes. his plush lips parted as he glanced at your glossy ones, before quickly scanning your face.

“okay, that’s enough of your weird staring contest,” soonyoung placed a hand on chan’s chest, pushing him back to create some distance between you two.

“i’ll help you get to your room,” he turned to you. “you’re lucky, since you get it to yourself, but its comparatively smaller and narrower than the others—”

“wait, weren’t we supposed to buy alcohol and meat from the store on the way back?” wonwoo suddenly remembered, making all the eyes in the room turn to him.

“shit!” minji slapped her forehead, tutting. “we’ll go get them then! you wanna come with?” she smiled at you, eunseok joining in.

“i think i should set up my things first yeah? but take soonyoung in my place,” you shoved your brother forward. “he’d love to go grocery shopping with you.”

minji’s cheeks flared up as she straightened her posture, nodding. “sure yeah.”

within minutes, wonwoo, minji, eunseok, soonyoung and mingyu headed off to the car, ready to buy crates of beer for the evening.

as the door shut behind him, jeonghan threaded his hands through his hair, smirking. “dino-yah,” he cooed. “why don’t you help her with her luggage?”

almost immediately, joshua joined in, egging on the maknae as both of you felt the heat creep up on your neck.

wordlessly, chan snatched your suitcase from your hand, beckoning you upstairs. you bowed at the two elder to you, before running up to chan.

he led you to a small room in the very corner of the second floor, opening the door with his leg as he walked in.

chan cleared his throat as you walked in, placing your hands on your bare waist. “so, this is your room.”

you nodded at him, taking in your space for the rest of the trip. the room was furnished with a queen sized bed, a love-seat in the corner, a small desk and chair and a balcony in the very end.

“this door,” chan walked over to a door that sat perpendicular to the entry. “this is the door to a common bathroom. its a jack and jill one, that connects to the room opposite to you.”

“oh? and who’s in the room opposite to me?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. with a dramatic sigh, chan leaned against the bathroom door, swinging his head to meet your eyes.

“its me.”

your breath hitched as he gulped. “w-wow,” you stuttered out. “sounds great, chan. looks like we are forced together again,” you smirked, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

he knew what you were referring to.

back when you were kids, and way before the idiot in front of you had signed with Pledis, you and soonyoung had gone to his house for a sleepover. chan’s mother had insisted on having you sleep on the bed, since “the floor is no place for a lady to sleep.” you and chan shared the bed, while soonyoung dozed off on the ground.

you were 14 at that time, and you remember how you skin had heated up when chan inched closer to you. “there’s no one to save you from my tickles now, crybaby!” the 15 year old boy had threatened.

yet, chan could barely focus on the flashback, instead focusing on the way your breasts nearly fell out from the neckline of your top.

you noticed his staring. smirking, you drew closer, tightening the cross of your arms.

“what’s this now, you’re ogling at me?”

you had him cornered. chan’s back was against the wall at you forced yourself into his space, breasts touching his hard torso.

“i—in you dreams!” he lied through his teeth, nervousness oozing out of his soul as he stared down at your tits.

god, the things he would do to slot his dick between those beautiful, gorgeous, one of a kind—

“my eyes are up here, channie,” you stuck your tongue out at him, before backing away and walking up to your suitcase.

dino felt his blood rushing south as you bent over to pick your bag up and place it on the table.

you purposefully wiggled your ass, humming to yourself. “channie,” you called out, voice as sweet as a siren.

“yeah?” dino collected himself, shaking away the filth that plagued his mind. two can play that game, he decided, biting his lip.

“can you come help me put my things in the bathroom? i have too much to unpack.”

with a nod, he walked over to your space, his chest touching your back as he leaned over your shoulder. “why did you pack so much, hm?” he teased you, running his fingers down your smooth arms.

not backing down from the challenge, you pushed your ass against him, whipping your head to meet his eyes. “i just wanted to look good, y’know? in case there was a strong, buff, hot man i wanted to seduce.”

with a hiss at your movements, chan’s hands flew to your hips. “yeah? you’ve grown up so much that you seduce men now?”

“oh, i do a lot more than just seduce,” you giggled, skincare long forgotten on the desk as you turned around, hopping on the wooden platform as your arms loosely slung around his neck.

chan slotted his knee between your legs, the pervert in him alive and breathing at the sight of you. you were driving him insane.

how you had managed to change so much over a few years had him baffled. instead of worrying about soonyoung, chan thought with his dick.

“what do you do then?” he questioned, eyes trained on your lips as you spoke. you pushed your clothed cunt down on his knee, biting back a moan.

“i think i would rather show you what i do than tell you,” you whimpered out, darkened eyes peering into his hazy ones.

chan bent his knee further into you, causing a delicious moan to escape your throat. “getting bold now, aren’t you?”

before you could even comprehend his words, your pussy spoke before you, hips rutting into his knee. however, a sharp knock on the door interrupted your little hump session.

“chan? y/n?” seungcheol’s voice spoke from behind the door. “you guys in there?”

chan quickly separated from you, walking closer to the door to answer. “yeah, i’m just helping her with her stuff. what’s up?”

“well, we were ordering some take out, so if you guys could come down and give your preferences, it would be great.”

“yeah, be there in a second,” chan glanced back at you, your teary eyes meeting his. the fucked out expression on your face made his dick jump to life.

but the heat of the moment had passed, which painted both of your cheek's a deep shade of red. realization hit dino way faster than it hit you. shooting you a tight-lipped smile, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

with a sigh, chan left the room and left you breathless, panting as your senses slowly returned. the fire of lust in your stomach had dimmed slightly, as realization dawned on you.

what the fuck just happened? and why did you like it?

nightfall arrived faster than you expected. but the cool air surrounding the beach raised bumps on your skin as you shoved grilled meat down your throat.

seungkwan and mingyu worked on the grill, with vernon filling up everyone’s plates with the expensive store bought items.

you sat on a stool next to seungcheol, sipping on the beer can that was handed to you. when everyone was busy with their own thing, the leader turned to you and smiled.

“so, how have you been? a long has passed since we spoke right?”

you had always found comfort in seungcheol. he was the leader of the group, a very reliable and trustworthy person. you remember asking him for advice when you got into college.

“i’ve been well, how are you?” you set your can aside. “any luck with the ladies you used to complain about?”

he laughs loudly at that, spooning a mouthful of ramen. “no, i’m still stuck with one-night stands for now. dating is too complicated!”

when chan hears his hyung talking about his love life, he scoots closer to the both of you, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“what about you? get any action?” seungcheol giggled.

you could practically feel dino’s presence beside you like a wavering shadow, and you chose to exploit it. how dare he leave you with an unfinished orgasm?

“oh yeah, plenty!” you smirked. “don’t tell soonyoung, but i’m lowkey addicted to sex? just feels so good to let off some steam, you know? and the dudes around me are so easy… they fall into my hands like domino.”

the harsh truth behind those words were only known to you. you had been on a dry spell for nearly 2 months now. your fingers and toys were not enough, and you were pretty sure you had started to hallucinate about dick.

“wah, kwon hoshi’s sister is all grown up, huh? good for you girl, go get them!” seungcheol cheered you on, clinking his can with yours.

you sneakily turned to look at chan, who had suddenly grown silent in his conversation with seokmin. “dino-yah. are you okay?”

chan’s eyes met yours and he immediately tensed up. you noticed how white his knuckles had turned, just from gripping wooden chopsticks.

“i’m fine,” he smiled, eyes dancing over your body before he returned to his friend. your bralette was doing nothing to hide your slightly tanned skin, black shorts making your perky ass stand out even more.

dino mentally cursed soonyoung for even allowing you to wear that. but then again, his best friend was too preoccupied with his little crush to pay you any attention.

the rest of the mini barbeque was a tough time for him. the poor boy could only think about your tantalizing words to seungcheol, calling a sweet string of cusses to all the men that touched you before he ever could.

you noticed how your plan was working, hiding your smirk behind a colorful can of beer as lee chan suffered in silence.

within a few hours of outdoor activity, jun and minghao said goodnight to everyone first, tired of all the hustle and bustle. a few others followed suit, yawning and sighing.

at the end of the night greetings, you, dino, wonwoo, seungcheol, soonyoung, minji, and joshua remained near the pool. you saw how your brother kept leeching up to minji, cracking idiotic jokes under her brother's watchful eye.

"i... i think i'll head to bed now, good night guys!" you stretched up from your chair. chan's eyes followed the way your skin gleamed under the fairy lights. he gulped loudly as you purposefully swayed your hips while walking inside.

"you can follow her in, chan-ah," wonwoo smiled, shifting his gaze to the youngest momentarily. "i'll keep kwon hoshi here for a while."

"what are you on about?" dino tried to play it off, scoffing as he crunched up a beer can. wonwoo could only roll his eyes.

"it's obvious you like her, and i'm just giving you a chance to work on it. you really should tone down the staring... soonyoung would kill you if he found out, and i am willing to help you for now. so don't be an idiot and go."

smiling toothily at his hyung, dino whispered out an "i love you" before running up the stairs. he reached his room without breaking a sweat and decided to shower before doing anything.

however, when he was about to slide the door to your shared bathroom open, he heard a loud sigh coming from inside. shamelessly, chan pushed his ear against the door, curious as to what you were doing.

your sigh was followed by a small whisper that sounded like "i can't believe i'm doing this." then, chan heard a zipper being opened.

his eyes widened as he realized what you were actually doing. "no way," he mouthed to himself, feeling his boner re-emerging at a sudden squelching noise.

"mhm," you moaned behind the door, and the pervert in the next room could only imagine what you looked like. "f-fuck chan!" you whimpered, and dino felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

the towel dropped from his hand, as his fingers sneaked to the hem of his basketball shorts. with a silent groan, chan stroked his chub as his eyes squeezed shut.

he pulled his cock out, swiping at his tip with his thumb. his brain worked overtime to imagine your hand in place of his, pretty eyes staring up at him.

meanwhile, in the bathroom, you leaned against the counter as your fingers stretched open your pussy. "feels so good," you whimpered, pitch increasing as you imagined his veiny hands pumping into you.

unbeknownst to each other, you and chan had cum to the thoughts of one another that night. chan made sure to cum at the same time as you, recognizing your borderline screams as you tipped over the edge.

what a filthy girl, he thought to himself, panting as his release spurted onto the towel he had discarded.

the starting 3 full days of the trip had made you avoid lee chan like he was the plague but personified.

every glance into his eyes had made you remember what you had done on that one night, and guilt seemed to sour your mood.

everyone had decided to go to the beach after having a few afternoon drinks. you spent your time around eunseok and vernon, gossipping about office trolls and work place shenanigans.

chan was simply drinking with seungkwan and minghao, refusing to give you any attention. although he was confused as to why you were ignoring him, he remained silent and decided to give you space.

jihoon suddenly joined into his conversation, hair tied back into a messy ponytail. “dino-ah,” he smirked, snatching a shot glass from the youngest’s hand. “i hear that there’s gonna be loads of girls on the beach today. wanna check some out? we can share if you want.”

as dino downed his shot, he stared back at his hyung with a grin. “don’t you remember what happened the last time we shared a girl? we had to take her to the hospital because she passed out!”

the group laughed, reminiscing the old memory. it wasn’t odd for them to share one-night stands. the boys were family, and they strongly believed in putting each other first.

the large number of giggles near you caught your attention. you and eunseok walked over to the boys, as she queried about their conversation.

“nothing much, it was just a last minute plan in prague… god we almost got arrested,” jihoon snickered, elbowing dino’s side. the youngest could only smirk, pouring himself another shot of soju.

questions flooded your mind as you stared at the man who had you in a chokehold. dino was clad in nothing but swim shorts, his taut muscles on full display for anyone to ogle over.

as the topic changed, your curiosity got the best of you. you staggered over to seungcheol, knowing that the boy would kill to gossip.

“oh hey y/n,” he greeted you with a tilt of his beer can, sunglasses perched upon his nose.

“hi,” you settled down next to him, your can of lemon soda forgotten as your lips quivered. “you look like you want to ask me something,” he chuckled, eyes scanning your face.

“you know me so well,” you smiled, twiddling your thumbs. “i can ask you anything right?”

“yeah, sure.”

“no repercussions?”

“no repercussions.”

with a sigh, you turned to face the leader as you took in a breath. “what happened in prague?”

seungcheol nearly choked on his drink, sputtering out flicks of the liquid as he stared at you with his eyes widened behind his shades.

“of everything you could have asked… why that?” he groaned, wiping his mouth. “come on,” you whined. “jihoon said it like it sounded so fun! i just wanna know!”

with a glance around to see if anyone was looking, the leader smiled and leaned in closer to you. “we swore we would never tell this to anyone but us… but you’re family too,” he began, voice merely above a whisper.

as seungcheol tattled on about the shenanigans that the idol group had been up to, you found yourself gasping. the wild story, the borderline illegality of it all— it was too much. you squeezed your thighs together when seungcheol skimmed past the details of the night they spent.

lee chan’s eyes followed the two of you, completely misinterpreting the situation. your shuffling thighs, masked giggles and wide eyes seemed like flirting to him as he clenched his jaw, downing his shot.

why were you making this so hard for him?

it was nearly 1 in the morning when you woke up in cold sweat.

your narrow room greeted you in a greyish hue, curtains pulled back to let the moonlight in. with a sigh, you resorted to calming down, taking deep breaths as you heard the waves crashing on shore. a slight buzzing noise filled your ears. it seemed to be coming from your door, but your mind could barely focus.

your dream had completely ruined your chances of sleep. a ticket to dreamland seemed impossible as seungcheol’s words floated in your head.

i’ve never seen dino go that feral on someone before… he was insatiable.

she squirted so hard when he was done, it was a huge mess. wonwoo’s glasses got drenched-

with a sigh, you take off your sleeping shorts and toss them to the side, fingers dipping down to your core.

your hole was slicked up, a sticky mess from your vivid imagination. your index finger prodded at your entrance, making you let out a sob.

your body was frustrated, in agony. you wanted to feel chan’s touch instead of your own hands, wanted to feel him buried inside you.

you let out another pained moan, pushing your first knuckle inside your fluttering walls. however, you fail to register the sounds you have been making, and that the buzzing from the outside had suddenly stopped.

you spread your legs wider, pumping your digits inside, letting out a hurt whimper. it would never be enough.

suddenly, the door to your shared bathroom opened with a slam, and a concerned chan appeared in your doorway. “are you okay—”

the sound of his voice egged you on further, hole gushing with a fresh serving of arousal. you all but sobbed at his direction, sex induced fog clouding your brain as your fingers fastened.

“chan,” you whimpered. in the doorway, with water drenched all over his face and a can of shaving cream in his hand, lee chan groaned at the sight in front him.

“help me…” you pleaded. “oh baby,” he growled, setting the can on the floor as he walked over to you. his hands parted your thighs even further, eyes examining the mess in between your legs.

with a sharp smack, he swatted your fingers away, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy.

morals be damned. soonyoung be damned.

“look at you,” his eyes stared into your hazed ones, a hand smacking your heat. the friction had your hips bucking.

“so soaked, hmm? what were you thinking of princess?” he bit his lip. “you… always thinking of you.”

“fuck,” he groaned, tilting his head back to compose himself. “y/n,” he sighed, one of his hands cupping your face.

you leaned into his touch, lips jutted out in a pout. “tell me you want this, and it’s not just something you’d forget. tell me you want me, and i’m all yours.”

with a smile, you turn aside to place a kiss on his palm. “i’ve never wanted something more in my life, lee chan.”

that seemed to be all the confirmation he needed as he flipped you over onto your stomach, slotting himself between your legs before he discarded his sweats on the floor.

“you have no idea how patient i have been,” he grunts, manhandling you to arch your back as your ass presses against his torso.

he dips his body down, face to face with your pussy. tantalizing, he licks a stripe up your folds, making your knees buckle on the mattress.

you try to look back to see him, but its impossible to move when his hands grab your ass cheeks, forcing his mouth back on you. dino’s chin brushes against your clit as he licks at your hole with a groan.

“so wet for me already, bet i could just slide in and you’d take it.”

you can only moan his name in return, clutching the bedsheets as he ate it from the back. his tongue fucks into your folds, lapping at the arousal that drips out of you in copious amounts.

“f-fuck channie! i’m—”

before you can finish, chan is moving away from your heat. the sudden lack of his mouth has you moaning and whining like a brat.

“easy doll, i don’t want you to cum on my face right now,” he pats your ass, flipping you over to your back as you finally get a view of him.

his slick covered face dips down to meet your lips. the kiss is searing and filthy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

your hands reach for his hair, pulling him impossibly close as you suck on his tongue. using your neediness as a distraction, he quickly angles his hips and pushes his tip past your folds.

“shit!” you cuss, gasping and pulling away. in the heat of the moment, you never actually registered how obnoxiously big chan’s cock was.

as you look down to where your bodies meet, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. his fat tip exerts an experimental thrust, and the sheer stretch of his head has you whining.

“shh baby, it’s okay,” he assures you, pressing small kisses along the column of your throat. “just breathe for me?”

you inhale slowly, allowing your tense body to relax and adjust to him. dino’s attempts at distracting you do not go futile as you feel his fingers pinching your nipples. the pain in your chest makes the ache between your legs lose all meaning.

steadily, he pushes himself inside you, inch by inch entering your welcoming walls that spasm around him. when he finally bottoms out, you feel him in your gut.

this was the fullest you had ever felt. chan’s mouth licks the sweat around your breast, savouring in the salty taste.

his arms rest on either side of your head, making you relish the view. when he finally looks up, you pull him in for a kiss.

its sloppy, and his teeth clash into yours, but you could not care less. your pussy clenches around him as you pull away, nodding feverishly. “chan… if you don’t fuck me right now, i might die— hah!”

one languid thrust into you has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. his metal chain dangles on your chin, the coolness contrasting the heat that squelches down there.

chan takes full advantage of his dancer body as he pistons his hips into you. the stretch has you reeling, nails clawing down his broad back as his body leans into you.

dino’s lips find the spot on your neck, licking and sucking till red and purple bloom on your skin. his matted hair sticks to his forehead, as you turn your head to the side— the visuals becoming too much for you to handle.

you’re met with his forearm in your sight, fingers tightly gripping the bedsheets.

without a second thought, you lean forward and bit his skin, making him groan out as his cock twitches inside you.

“fu- you’re killing me baby,” he smirked, licking his lips as he forces you to look at him.

the brute force of his thrusts has your body thrashing, legs shaking with pleasure.

“feels so good channie!” you hiccup, mind cloud. the only thing you could think of was lee chan and his oh so perfect dick that was ravaging your insides.

when chan looks down, his eyes roll to the back of his head. he could see the outline of himself in your stomach, prodding out with every thrust.

a creamy and frothy ring lined the base of his cock, a testament to how your greedy cunt was sucking him in. your warm walls squeezed hard around him when one of his hands dropped down to press the bulge on your stomach.

“feel me in there, don’t ya?” he babbled, hips faltering at your vicious grip. “y-yes!” you cried out, feeling your stomach contracting.

with a loud growl, chan’s lips rest upon yours. “you close baby? can feel your greedy little cunt crying f’me,” he mumbled, licking your bottom lip.

your pathetic nods made him remove his hand from your stomach and find your clit instead, circling the bud as you mewled.

“cum for me baby, show me how much you needed this cock in you,” his eyes fluttered shut, forehead falling against yours.

“i’m cu— oh fuck,” you whimpered, suddenly feeling your orgasm rip through your body. your pussy clamped down on him, gripping his length like a fleshlight.

dino moaned in your ear about how good you felt, thrusts turning sloppy as he pressed kisses on your earlobe.

he continued to move inside you, drawing out your orgasm as he chased after his. overstimulation had tears spilling from your eyes, clawing at his pecs as you sobbed. “ ‘s too much channie! hurts!”

“just a little more baby, clench round me like that aga— FUCK!” he lost himself in you, feeling your walls clamp down on his cock, milking him for all his worth as his orgasm washed over him.

in a desperate attempt, chan’s thrusts turned erratic as he pumped his load inside you. “s-so good,” he whimpered, hips stilling inside you as he softened. you groaned at the warmth, shutting your eyes in ecstasy.

you both were panting, bodies entwined in a soft caress. time seemed to still when lee chan looked into your eyes again, smiling like a lovesick puppy when you kissed him.

your mouth whined pathetically when he pulled out, falling to your side as he sighed. wanting to be close to him, you shuffled near him.

your fingers dropped down to your pussy as you tried to plug his cum inside you, moaning at the sensation of being so incredibly full and warm.

“that was… the best sex i’ve ever had, sheesh,” dino wrapped an arm around you, pulling you impossibly close.

you brought your hand up to place on his sweaty chest, giggling as he kissed the top of your head. “better than prague?” you teased.

lee chan’s pecs tensed under your hold, as his eyes widened, staring at you in the dark. “what— who told you about that!” he exclaimed, ears dusted pink.

“seungcheol’s very easy to gossip with,” you winked, staring up at his pretty face. “wow… i can’t believe this hyung,” he grumbled, hearing you laugh.

“hey! this only happened because i was thinking about everything you did to that poor girl,” you smacked his muscle, hearing him wince. “why were you so feral that night, lee chan?” you voiced your question out loud.

he sucked in a breath as his grip tightened around your shoulder. “you really want to know?”

“i’m dying from curiosity,” you mused. with a sigh, chan turned his head to face you fully, meeting your eyes in the moonlight, before he whispered out an answer.

“she had the same name as you.”

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seiwas · 5 months

Text

₊˚⊹｡ keep this drive to just us two | fushiguro megumi

wc: 2.7k

summary: megumi is a liar, but there’s a reason for all this.

contains: f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, college!megumi, pre-relationship stuff, feelings, some swear words

a/n: happy birthday to our boy ♡ set in the same universe as this megumi fic (so a ~kind of part 2); some songs that inspired this & ones i imagine playing in the car: the shining by the neighbourhood, paradise by chase atlantic, & over the moon by the marías

part 1 <- you are here

It’s just you and Megumi on a late night drive—a quarter past 11 p.m.

The passenger seat has long since been adjusted to you, his car a somewhat second home. There’s that characteristic reverb accompanying the deep bass of the music he listens to, and his knee is bobbing to the beat of it, like it always does when the music is good.

Megumi’s car always smells of mint, a fresh, crisp scent that cuts through—an accurate depiction of the man: level-headed, cool. A sharp honesty exists in every word he speaks; it’s the only way he knows how to be.

Except, maybe, lately. Like this moment.

Megumi’s a liar right now.

He feels a little guilty for it, tricking you into coming out tonight. But how bad can it be to invite you under the guise of it being from Yuuji?

“Yuuji said he’ll meet us there?” you settle into your seat, dragging the seatbelt across your body before locking it into place.

Megumi shifts the gear to drive, nodding as he turns the wheel to get out of the parking lane. He can’t trust himself to speak.

The ride is quiet save for the music, a comfortable silence he seems to only have with you. Nobara and Yuuji like to talk, to fill in the empty pockets of air he never feels the need to. You—you adjust, read the room; you become what the situation calls for all on your own.

That’s what he likes about you, among many other things—he’s stopped lying to himself about that, at least.

The streets whiz past you in a blur, both vaguely familiar and unrecognizable. There’s a fast food joint your group of four frequents as a post-party drive-thru, and the holiday lights are strung up on lampposts lining the sidewalks.

Yellows, reds, and greens melt into one another as the backdrop of your window. But all Megumi sees is gray—

When he dislodges his phone from the stand clipped to the AC vents at the center console, handing it over so you can control the music. His eyes stay locked on the road until he feels it, the slightest brush of your fingers against his.

He turns to you, a quick glance; you’d shrugged off your puffer jacket some time during the drive and tossed it to the backseat, leaving you in this right now.

—the gray sweater that he knows all too well; that you haven’t returned but you wear like it’s yours, as if this piece of him is something you’ve chosen to keep.

It looks better on you, anyway, he thinks.

He turns back to the road, breathing a little quicker, grip tighter and knuckles a bit whiter.

If he listens carefully, the comfortable silence between you hasn’t actually been all that silent lately. A constant beat’s been drumming in his ears, exacerbated only every time you’re near. You’ve locked eyes far too often for two people sitting in a car, driving from point A to point B, and this isn’t the first time your fingers have brushed, nor is it the second, or third (or even fourth if he’s thinking about the technicalities).

He finds himself smiling too easily when you speak, the corners of his lips aching by the time he’s dropped you off on the way home. You’ve looked at him fondly too, a handful of times, when you think he won’t notice; but it’s impossible not to when he’s paying just as much attention—from the corner of his eye, in his periphery. A responsible side-glance that inconspicuously catches everything.

There’s something between you two, and he’s grown more confident of that the more he’s accepted his fate:

He likes you.

It’s why he called you tonight, out of all nights, in the first place.

Aimless driving can only be so convincing up to a certain point, and that point comes fast approaching as Megumi is about to pass the same street for the third time. You don’t notice because you’re queueing songs on his phone, but he has to think of a diversion—just something to tide him over past midnight.

“I’ll get us some snacks,” he signals to the left, pulling over to a 7-Eleven.

“Oh!” you look up from his phone, swapping it for yours, “I’ll ask Yuuji if he wants anything. Did he mention if Nobara’s coming?”

Megumi freezes, panic setting in—if you message Yuuji now, you’ll realize that he’s been lying. He holds his breath, shifting the gear to park before pulling at the edges of his sleeves.

Think.

“He’ll eat anything, it’s fine. Nobara probably won’t come too. Wouldn’t pick up when he called.”

For someone who always puts things bluntly, he’s surprisingly good at coming up with lies right now.

You hum, nodding, “Okay. Do you want me to go down?”

“I’ll be quick,” he shakes his head, fishing around the center console for his wallet, “you want anything?”

Then he looks at you, your head tilted to the side as you think. A little pout causes your lips to jut out and he can’t help it, how his eyes fall to them, shiny in the way only your lip balm can make them.

“Maybe something warm?”

Your voice snaps him out of it, but the moment is frozen—like he’s been caught red-handed. He’s so sure you saw him staring, your eyebrows shooting up, flustered while watching his gaze shift from your lips to your eyes.

He doesn’t expect it when you do the same thing.

It’s freezing outside and his lips feel chapped; he wonders if they’re cracked, if you’re studying the grooves of split skin—if he should buy lip balm by the counter, on the way out.

He looks away, clearing his throat, one hand to the door handle.

“Okay,” he opens it, “turn up the heat if you’re–”

You nod.

“Yeah, okay.”

He steps out.

The cold is biting as he tucks his hands inside his pockets, rushing to get into the convenience store.

(You watch his back retreat from the window of his carseat, and the influx of cool air should make you shiver, but you feel warm, heat rushing to your cheeks.

This whole night has been confusing; the subtle touches and lingering gazes—ones like just moments ago, especially. Being alone with Megumi lately has been both comfortable and nerve-wracking; you have feelings that you aren’t quite sure are reciprocated, no matter how much Nobara teases the both of you already.

You can’t take it; you need a buffer—where is Yuuji?

11:41 p.m.

< are you otw already? we just went to grab some snacks

You wait, fingers tapping on the back of your phone.

11:42 p.m.

yuuji 🍡

> huh?

> otw where?

> who’s we?

> i’m outside fushiguro’s rn! with gojo-sensei!! apparently he surprises him every bday…

> you should come! you live near right?

You scrunch your eyebrows, confused. There are too many thoughts in your head right now—has Megumi been lying?

11:43 p.m.

< oh ok, i probs misunderstood!!

< and i’m out tonight, idt i can make it but lmk how it goes!!

You’ve never known Megumi to be a liar, but he’s definitely in it right now for some questioning.)

The 7-Eleven doors swing open, revealing Megumi with his shoulders shrugged up to his ears, hands deep inside his pockets as a plastic bag hangs around his wrist. He opens the car door, immediately settling in his seat before shutting it.

He still won’t meet your eyes, fishing through the random snacks he bought instead. It’s awkward, the air in the car tense; and it takes the biggest guts in him to look up as he hands over the warm bottle of tea he got you, just like you wanted.

It’s even worse when you’re staring right back, expecting—almost like you’re about to confront him.

“Be honest,” you start, eyes squinting.

Shit. Sweat forms at his palms as he blinks, the beat drumming in his ears intensifying.

“Did you bring me out here to murder me?”

He raises an eyebrow, expecting you to convict him for lying, “The fu–”

Which you do, bringing your phone up so he can read. Your text chain with Yuuji casts a white light over his face, his eyes darting from side-to-side as he scans each message.

(You aren’t mad or anything, just even more confused than you already are; some clarity would be nice, once and for all.

Embarrassment is painted on his face the more he reads through your phone screen, lashes entirely too long as it bats against the tip of his cheeks; a faint pink blooms on his skin, like winter peonies.)

There’s a reason for all this.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath; he’s dreading having to open them—do you think he’s weird now? That he had some ulterior motive bringing you out? His jaw clenches at the thought—

But then you laugh, a soft chuckle that accompanies the ‘click’ of your phone turning off. And when he takes a peek, squints one eye to catch a glimpse, you’re smiling; your lips are pressed together with the corners curled up slightly, as if you find this entire thing funny.

The tension dissipates, but he frowns, eyebrows scrunching as he considers whether he wants to be the reason for whatever it is you’re thinking.

“Stop it. Don’t make fun of me.” his head turns to the side.

You chuckle again, biting your bottom lip, “You’re just too cute.”

A beat.

(It slips out before you can catch yourself, heat rising to your cheeks. Megumi isn’t doing any better; his ears are flushed red, crawling down to the sides of his neck as he swallows.)

The plastic bag crinkles on his lap, cutting through the silence.

How can you just… say that?

You clear your throat, “So, uh, did you know about the surprise?”

(Your eyes shift to the corner of the infotainment system, 11:52 p.m. in white.)

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he leans back on his seat.

“Gojo-sensei tries to surprise me every year, I didn’t think he’d call Itadori this time.”

“You sound like that’s a bad thing…” you tilt your head, curious.

He pauses, staring ahead as he considers his response, “Not bad… just,” his fingers fiddle with the plastic bag, “too loud, sometimes.”

(Megumi’s mentioned a bit about this ‘Gojo-sensei’ guy, his kind-of-mentor slash benefactor since being orphaned with his step-sister at age 6. You’ve never met him, but Yuuji never stops talking about how fun he is, how cool.

It makes sense why Megumi finds him a bit much, if anything.)

“And you think I’m any better?” you snort offhandedly, joking as you turn to the side, facing him.

He tilts his head towards you, leaning back on the headrest; your eyes lock for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting subtly before he looks away, straight ahead again.

If he had the courage, he’d tell you that you’re the only company he wants to spend this birthday with—

That there are songs in his playlist he’d otherwise never listen to, but repeats and repeats and repeats because it reminds him of you;

That he looks forward to doing deep cleans on his car every weekend, but has started to dread it once he noticed that it washes away your scent from the Fridays that he drops you home;

That he’s a liar because he really likes you, but can’t find the words to tell you.

So he doesn’t say anything, shrugging.

The silence is telling.

(You feel too warm, whether from the heating system or from the implications of this moment. The 11:58 p.m. on the clock adds a pressure that it shouldn’t, an almost taunting presence that tells you if you act now, tomorrow could be very different.

Are you reading the signs right?

Should you just say it?

Each second drags on twice as long, and you think—

Fuck it.)

“Megumi?” your voice breaks through softly.

The plastic crinkles on his lap as he turns to you.

He could be any other place right now.

But he’s chosen to be here, with you, parked outside a 7-Eleven, minutes before midnight.

“If I tell you something, will you be honest with me?”

He blinks before humming, nodding. This is the least he can do after today’s blatant lying.

There’s an intensity to your gaze that makes him nervous; your fingers tug at the edges of his (your) gray sweater, a piece of him you’ve taken with you. Then you speak—

“I like you,” you say it plainly, unblinking, “and I need you to tell me if you don’t feel the same.”

—and you take the rest of him too.

12:01 a.m.

He stares at you, turning the confession over and over in his head. He’s always had a feeling but it’s different when it’s out in the open, when it’s from you and isn’t based on some gut-feeling.

There are so many things he can say, but you did ask him to be honest—to tell you if he didn’t feel the same.

“Do I stay quiet if I do?” he mumbles, cheeks deepening into red.

There’s a smile he’s trying to hide, one he won’t allow himself to let out until he gets one from you too.

You visibly relax, releasing the breath you were holding. Your lips curl up instinctively, wide and infectious—that feeling of your heart bursting.

“Smartass,” you scrunch your nose before glancing at the time, “happy birthday.”

When you look at him this fondly, there’s not much else he can ask for, really.

You eat the snacks in his car (an exception—whether it’s because of you or his birthday, you’re not sure) and tell him that your actual gift is back home, sitting in dog-patterned wrapping paper by your entryway.

The drive back is, for the most part, the same—lingering gazes when the stoplight permits, a brush of your fingers when you hand him his phone after queueing songs. You’re wearing his sweater and his car still smells like mint.

But you both can’t stop smiling.

And when he drops you off, he’s tempted to tell you to stay longer for just one more song, but he figures there’s lots of time for that now. So instead, he grabs your puffer from the back, gets down and rushes over to open your door, helping you out.

He holds up your jacket as you slip your arms into it, zipping it up so you stay warm and toasty. Cute, he thinks, when your grin reaches your cheeks; he could pinch them, would you complain if his fingers are too chilly?

Your hesitance is evident in the way you bite your lip, but you go for it anyway, diving in to land a soft kiss to his cheek. It happens so quickly, it barely registers to him—the touch of your lips to his skin. When you pull away, you look shy.

He doesn’t say anything, heat rushing to the place you’d kissed. You take this as a sign to go ahead, so you move, but he can’t—

—can’t let you go just like this.

Not when he’s been thinking about those lips since he last laid his eyes on it.

It’s reflex, the way he grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him. He lets go immediately, hovering, but his eyes drop dangerously, down to your lips—shiny and plump from the lip balm he knows you carry.

His breathing quickens and he asks so softly, “Can…”, he gulps, nervous, “Can I?”

You nod, humming.

(When Megumi leans in, long lashes fluttering over your eyelids, you think, this can’t possibly be real. But then his lips slide over yours, cold but not cracked, and you move yours against them, gentle in the same way he is.

His fingers slot themselves at the edge of your jaw, palm pressed to your cheek; it makes you shiver, how cool it is, but it warms up quickly.)

The kiss is over far too soon (you think so, too), and when you part, you’re beaming, a twinkle in your eyes that makes him want to kiss you again, if only to keep them shining the way they do.

It’s the end of the night, but the beginning of something new and Megumi’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the noise; this constant beat drumming in his ear is all he can hear now, swiping his tongue over his lips to taste mint—your lip balm of choice.

thank you note: to everyone who was just as excited abt this as i was—@soumies @mysugu @augustinewrites @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @selarina @pastelle-rabbit @mymegumi @kagelun @irisintheafterglow & @shidouryusm for making me see that paradise is so megumi 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

1K notes · View notes

milkcos · 29 days

Text

lemonade mouth/band au! more notes under the cut

lemonade as in like the disney movie! so there are a couple like clear comparisons but mostly it's the bad kids get stuck in detention together except they form a band instead of an adventuring party

fabian > no equivalent (olivia vibes)

the most popular kid at school who is both in dance and on the football team. somehow gets decent grades as well. no close friends, but a lot of people who know him and want to get on his good side. kind of depressed, and his dad's currently in prison. he started playing the guitar as a way to show off and then genuinely started enjoying it

adaine > mo

she's a concert violist (playing the viola) always an accompaniment for her sister and is striking it out on her own for the first time. her family is very upset about this, and consistently puts her down so she'll go along with they want her to do. also she recently transitioned to going to public school for the first time, making her the new girl.

kristen > no equivalent

she's recently ex mormon, got out of her parents house (currently living in her car) and without all of her former friends stuck in a student president position that she got when she was still with the religion. questioning her sexuality after one too many encounters with the soccer team captain, tracker. used to be on the church choir, was a bit too enthusiastic about it.

gorgug > no equivalent (charlie vibes)

he's got like one or two kinda friends (mainly fig). extremely busy with his classes and with marching band and self isolating as a result. he's stressed out about living up to his parent's name (they run a very successful electric engineering company). signed up to work as a sound tech for the theatre department bc one of the female stage managers is very cute (zelda) and then discovered that he rlly like it.

riz > no equivalent

no friends! (other than maybe the AV club + penny) too used to burying himself in work at both his part time gig and with his insane amount of extracurriculars. started playing the piano bc he heard it helps with memory retention and overall cognitive ability.

fig > stella/wen

she's the cool loner skater kid who is the floater friend mostly? she's got a maybe relationship with ayda, who she loves to annoy at the school library. very interested in making her own music not very interested in school. freaking out over her parents getting remarried. her mom enrolled her in music lessons when she was younger, and it's one of the only things she can talk about with her mom these days.

550 notes · View notes

cinnasweetss · 14 days

Text

rickenbacker (p.sh)

synopsis: sunghoon wants to get his hands on the popular indie band's guitarist at his uni. might come with some sacrifices though.

or the one where sunghoon betrays his friend for pussy (deserved!)

genre: smut, pw minimal plot.

characters: guitarist!reader, loser!sunghoon, mean!hyung line

wc: 3.6k

(content under cut)

content: bullying, homie hopping, betrayal, slight voyerism if u squint, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, sunghoon doesn’t believe in pulling out, dirty talking, minimal plot, etc etc

sunghoon first sees you at your university's summer festival.

he meets you three weeks later when youre accompanied by heeseung. not exactly on his arm, but its rare to see him with a girl he hasn't slept with.

sunghoon develops his newfound attraction to you then. when he sees you off stage, away from the big lights and loud music played by your guitar. sure you were pretty up there too, but up close, god. he can feel his heart thump in his chest the moment you step inside the room with your bandmates.

he's heard the rumours, that the all-woman band in his university has a knack for attaching themselves to one male friend group a month. thanks to heeseung, he guesses, it's their turn now.

there's four of them, and only one of you. plus the two other girls you came in with, who seem to have drifted right over to Jay and Jake. it doesn't bother him, really. he can pay way more attention to you without having to entertain some girls. he's quickly pulled from it though, when heeseung nudges him with his foot, "Dude, get the beers."

It's embarrassing when you snicker, vampishly nudging his shoulder with an overly drawn out "Don't be so mean, hee." after sunghoon finally makes himself useful.

He sets the cans on the table, watching as multiple hands reach out to grab them until the table is cleared. "You don't drink?" Your voice rings in his ears, coated with disappointment as you watch him shake his head. "He's always been like that, don't mind him."

.....

Sunghoon knows he shouldn't be letting the six of you treat him like this. making him store-run with his own money, ordering him around, expecting him to buy dinner everytime the seven of you go out.

he only does it so he can glimpse at you every now and again. wants to get the most out of these last two weeks he probably has with you before you run off with another group of guys. even when he catches you talking about exactly who that next group is.

You sent him out to buy you a pack of cigarettes just down the block as the other five bullshit around at the bar. He finds you outside, cigarette tucked between two fingers adorned with white nails. "Thanks, hoon" you really have to admit, this is a new dynamic. whenever you and your bandmates attach to a group of guys that outnumber you, the ones who aren't picked seem to fuck off.

sunghoon either doesnt care, or enjoys being the groups water boy. either way, it's fucking weird having him constantly hovering around. "Sit next to me." You invite, scooting over and patting the area beside you. Of course he listens, sitting without a word.

you have to admit, you haven't heard him say anything other then small phrases. you don't even know if he's able to hold a conversation if you tried.

"you're pretty quiet...are you always like this?"

That feels like a knife in the chest. he so badly wants to say no, that it's only like this because the six of you are too busy obsessing over each other to know he's even there. but he knows that's not true. he knows he's heard that too many times for it to not be true. "Yeah, kinda." It leaves him in a mumble, prompting you to shift your body to his to hear him better. over the sound of music from the bar and the sound of cars zooming by.

"I've got another friend, do you want to meet her?"

you don't mean harm by it, you're just curious if this is actually how he is, or if he's only acting this way because his friends are excluding him. which, you are too, but you can only handle one guy at a time. based off experience.

"I'm fine, thanks." it's another mumble you can barely make out, but you know he's declining by the way he doesnt even look at you.

he'd have a greater chance at being picked if he took those glasses off, put some bass in his voice and told his friends "no" once in awhile.

you quickly decide it isn't your job to fix this man, and decide to leave to the next girl who comes around. hopefully she comes quickly enough for him to enjoy his youth. "I'll see you inside."

that leaves sunghoon with his thoughts. with the realisation that his first and likely last conversation with you went to shit just because he can't communicate properly.

he can't help that you intimidate him. maybe its the fact that he knows that youre unreachable despite almost always being a few feet away from him. you're the same on and off stage, too high for him to reach. too pretty to even think of him the same way you think of heeseung.

"Fuck!" it all settles into anger, resulting in an outburst louder than he'd like. it takes him a few minutes before he decides to join the group, eyes settling on you and heeseung tucked away in a booth together.

.....

youre not sure what exactly made you change your mind.

Maybe the fact that heeseung is boring the shit out of you, his head sucks, he doesn't really care about getting you off, or maybe sunghoon is just that much more interesting because of heeseungs recent performance.

maybe its the fact that sunghoon isn't one of the men screaming and shouting so loud you can barely hear the notes from your own guitar. the fact that he's tucked behind heeseung in the crowd, though his eyes are still seemingly stuck on you. doesnt even seem like he's listening, he's just staring. observing from afar.

two nights ago is what really solidified it for you. when heeseung rolled over after cumming once. without even thinking about trying to get you off, even when you pulled the "im gonna cum" line to get him to keep going. it wasn't hard to begin thinking about someone else. thinking about the boy who doesnt say much, barely says anything at all. is completely unreadable, and has no people skills whatsoever.

you haven't said much to heeseung. short texts since then. instead you've made plans to see sunghoon. away from his friend group.

sunghoon is too thrilled to receive a text from you that Friday night almost immediately after your performance.he's supposed to be running to the store for heeseung, grabbing beers and shit for the guys- what the fuck ever. they're gonna turn into a beer if they keep drinking like that.

he doesnt even think twice. you don't even think twice, sending the location of your studio before he can even respond.

it takes him virtually no time to wander off, shoving away Jay when he tells him he's going in the absolute wrong direction. that the store is that way, not that way. his eyes darting around to find the building your studio is inside of.

its not hard for him to find a door with the name of your band plastered right in-front of it. unlocked.

you're tucked against the wall when he comes in, those same prettily manicured hands that often hold a cigarette, strumming at the strings of your blue guitar that sits on your lap. still in the same outfit you wore onstage, making this all the more surreal.

the soft click of the door is what pulls you from it. "Lock it, yeah?" Sunghoon can barely hear you over the loud thumping in his chest, still he manages to do just that. awaiting another order from you. "You can sit. There." the way he moves is awkward, eyes moving around the room, looking at anything but you once he finally sits.

you move your guitar from your lap, joining sunghoon on the leather couch. so close your shoulder brushes against his. "Did you like it? the song, I mean..."

sunghoon only nods, eyes still avoiding yours. "You can talk to me, you know. I don't bite..." he doesn't shy away when you reach out to touch his arm.

usually a guy would gush about how sexy you look on stage, ask to touch your guitar, ask you to teach them a few chords. you don't expect him to fall for the bait, nor notice your attempts at flirting.

your only other option is to not beat around the bush, tell him exactly what you what from him. "I called you here 'cause I wanted to tell you liked you, hoonie." wasn't at all what he was expecting to hear from you next, not when its well known that you're with heeseung.

"You like me too, right? that's why you stick around even though you don't have to." you have no evidence to back this up, might even be super far fetched, but its worth a try. "Yeah, but, you've got heeseung." not too far fetched it seems, "But I want you, hoon." you quickly shake your head, leaning your upper body against his shoulder.

sunghoons got a million things going through his head at once. the fact that if he does anything with you he'd be betraying a long time friend, him being so incredibly turned on beyond belief just because you've got your tits in his hands, almost. the visual of you leaning in to kiss him right now, not knowing whether or not to kiss you back or push you away when you finally do.

you think he's going to. going to push you away and take the side of his friend that wouldnt think twice about doing this with you if the roles were reversed. he's continuously proved you wrong though, wrapping his arms right around your waist.

he'd be absolutely stupid to not kiss you back. he can't believe he even thought about rejecting you. cant believe he thought about sparing heeseungs feelings.

the incessant ringing in his pocket forces you two away, a soft "Sorry..." leaving him as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

speak of the devil.

"What the fuck, you left thirty minutes ago dude!", "hurry the fuck up, seriously."

you can't stand to hear that asshole yelling at him over the phone. he thinks he's hot shit just because he's the oldest and they all listen to whatever he asks. "Don't let him talk to you like that, hoonie..." It's low enough for sunghoon to hear only, "stick up for yourself, hm?"

Sunghoon would rather shoot himself in the foot than look like a fucking loser infront of you. your hand rubs encouraging circles against his chest, head resting on his shoulder. "Get it yourself. I'm busy." he makes sure it's firm, just so you know that he is standing up for himself. "What?! No, I told you to do it. that means do it now. not when you feel like it."

"You didnt fucking hear me? I said I'm busy. Tell Jay to get off his ass and do it for you." you can't lie, that sounds so hot coming from him. it puts a smile on your face, only because you knew he had it in him. even if it did take a little encouragement from you. "Hang up." this time you make sure your words are loud enough to go through that speaker, making sure heeseung hears you.

"Who are you with?"

With heeseung in his ear, and you practically on his lap and pressing kisses against his cheek, it's clear he needs to get off the phone. "Don't worry about it. It's not your fucking business." it's just as harsh as his words before, and yet all heeseung can say is "Who the fuck are you with, sunghoon?!"

he knows exactly who he's with. that goes without saying, especially when you whine a "Pay attention to me, hoon..." right. into. the mic.

you both can hear heeseung go absolutely ballistic as you push the phone away from sunghoon's ear, cupping his face so you can finally get back to kissing him. you're sure heeseung got a earful of heavy breaths and kisses before you finally make sure the call disconnects.

Sunghoons new found confidence comes with a bit of dominance to it seems, leading the kiss even when you straddle him and immediately grind against him. his hands instinctively move to hold your hips, only cause he wants to seriously focus on kissing you for awhile. wants to enjoy the taste of your lipgloss after he pushes his tongue past your lips.

neither of you can really do that though, not when you're both pulling at each others clothing at the same time. you want his pants off to see what he's working with, and he wants a tit in his mouth. your hands are constantly fumbling around each other, so much that you pull away with a laugh. you quickly pull your shirt off, tossing it to the side.

he's got an eyeful of your tits in your cheetah print bra, and an even bigger one when you reach behind your back to take it off. he's practically drooling, mouth hung open, focused right on the metal that runs through each nipple.

"holy shit."

he nearly cums right then and there. maybe he does, he's not too sure, wouldnt be surprised if he did. especially because when he does get a tit in his mouth, its absolutely euphoric. coldness of the metal pressed right against his tongue, grazing his teeth. your other tit sits perfectly in his hand that's switching between groping, and tugging right on your sensitive nipple.

your hands are fumbling under his shirt, trying to unbuckle his belt so you can stick hand in his pants just to cop a feel. a soft "Can I eat you out?" stops you. how can you ever say no to such a request?

You nearly fall trying to get off of him quickly so he can find a spot between your legs. suddenly the size of his dick doesnt matter, as long as he's good at this. which, he quickly proves that he is. doesnt even bother taking off your panties, nor your skirt for that matter. he just flips it up and pushes your panties to the side.

your jaw falls open, hands immediately reaching for the head between your legs. the feeling his tongue brings is pure bliss. he knows exactly where the clit is, when to switch from licking to sucking, when to push two fingers inside and- "Fuck!" he's just barely started, yet you're already this much of a mess.

its not his fault he can't stop mouthing away at your cunt, moaning each time his tongue flicks against your clit. you just taste so good, no matter how much he licks away at you, it isn't nearly enough to satiate him. he has to pull away, take those damned glasses off his face so he can bury himself deeper between your legs.

His fingers plunging in and out of you to match the rhythm and speed of his tongue only tighten that coil in your stomach. if he manages to make you cum from this, you'll be keeping him a lot longer than usual. especially because he seems to be enjoying this just as much as you do. moaning each time your hands tug on his hair and you grind against his lips.

You're unable to stop the plethora of sounds that leave you with each flick of his tongue and movement of his fingers. it's no surprise that you're just minutes away from succumbing to your orgasm."Don't stop!" Sunghoon doesn't dare think of stopping, keeps his pace steady as he eases that orgasm right from you. his eyes lock right on your face, watching as your brows furrow and your face contorts beautifully after your "I'm cumming!" he eats you through it and then some, until you stop squirming, and your grip loosens on his hair.

You genuinely believe you've seen god, that he told you to never ever settle for anything other than this. Sunghoon emerging from your legs with the same fingers that were previously inside of you now tucked between his lips, makes you wonder if he's god with the way he just sucked your soul right out of you.

you watch as he undresses himself. unveiling a surprisingly built figure you didn't know he had. and the fact that he's hung on top of all that. can't deny, you can't wait to figure out of he's as good with his dick as he is his mouth.

neither of you think twice about a condom, not when he climbs on top of you and kisses you again. you'd be fine with just this, honestly. just kissing him all night. "Ready?"

you think its really cute that he asks, not saying the bar is in hell, but its still a nice gesture. you smile up at him, a soft "yeah" and a head nod is all it takes. he shoves a hand between your bodies, lining himself up with your entrance.

you wince as he slides in, sunghoon watching intensely for any other obvious signs of discomfort. his jaw falls open, forehead pressed against yours once he finally bottoms out. he gives you a second before his hips retract and slow meet yours once again. you're relieved he doesnt immediately begin to pounce on you, as this is enough to have you clawing at his forearms.

youre just so tight, sucking him right back in anytime he pulls away. the constant clenching and trembling of your walls around him is enough to have him cum just from these very soft and cautious movements of his.

his lips find yours again, kissing through the next few thrusts in which he goes impossibly deeper, and quicker. "Fuck, you're so wet..." those words force a moan out of you that you didnt know you were holding. "Pussy's creamin' already." so not only does he know exactly what he's doing, he's talking you through it too.

you'd be satisfied if today was your last day on earth. if you died right here, right after hearing those words leave his mouth. you had no idea he had all this in him. that he was even the type, honestly. you know what they say about the quiet ones though.

you don't even have to tell him faster, its like he's reading your fucking mind. like he's became one with you so he knows exactly what to do and when to do it. its the first time you haven't had to coach a man through the entire thing. that is, if you want to get off. you'll be damned if you let this one get away.

"holy shit" he moans above you, forcing your legs over his shoulders so he can fuck deeper. you cant squirm like this either, forcing you to lay and take every single inch he's giving you. it doesnt matter how hard you push at his hips so he can take maybe an inch or two out of you, he's unrelenting.

"Hoon!" you shout, hands grabbing at the soft leather below you one you realize he's not stopping anytime soon. his thrusts are quick and short, sharp. the sound of skin slapping, moans, and the like fill the studio. more vulgar words and praises leave him, only adding to the overwhelming pleasure youre receiving from him. "Gonna keep fucking this pussy open till you stop squirming."

to be loved is to be heard. to be loved is to be seen. to be loved is to be fucked. hard.

"Sunghoon!" your breath quickens, heart thumps in your chest when you realise he's almost fucked you into another orgasm. there's no need to say it, he knows after observing you just once.

" 's so big, 's too big!" you're either gonna cum so hard you pass out, or he's gonna split you right in half. either one. you'll be fine with both, really.

the fine details are irrelevant, what matters is the absolute euphoria your walls give. his balls are so heavy and full, aching to finally release a load. he's almost there, right with you. insisting, telling you that you're gonna keep taking him until you finish. not before.

"Hoon, i'm-" it's incredible when you finally do. your walls contract so hard, your body convulses, a string of loudly drawn out sounds of ecstasy leave you before you're even able to tell him.

you swear you're ascending, cumming so hard you can't even hear sunghoon coax you through it. it's the first time you ever have tap out. having to beg him to stop for just a second. you're just so overwhelmed.

he does, kissing your chest soothingly, though not for long. he does give you a second. one second and then he's back at it again. chasing his own high. "I'm gonna cum. Holy shit."

his hips come to a hard halt. slamming into your hips one more time as he fucks his cum right into you. "Fuck!" it vocalizes in a jumble of moans, heavy breaths, and one tight grip on your hips.

he collapses ontop of you thereafter, pulling himself out of you with a hiss. his face nuzzles in your neck, leaving soft kisses there. it's almost no surprise that he's ready for round two minutes after. lifting himself off of you with a big dorky smile, and "Can we go again?"

heeseung hyung i'm gonna fuck you up for this. 11:42pm

#cinnasweetss #enhypen #smut #sunghoon #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #enha x reader #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen smut #cinnasweetss: rickenbacker #fav #enhablr #divider by: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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thekinslayed · 11 days

Text

Étoile

summary | Aemond Targaryen has found himself a new star.

pairing | ballet master!aemond targaryen x ballerina!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, oral (m), semi-public, slight dubcon, mirror sex, power imbalance, coercion, aemond’s kinda manipulative, slight age difference (reader is in her early 20s, Aemond is in his mid-30s)

wordcount | 4.6k

note | ah finally, some use for a decade and a half worth of ballet training 🙂‍↕️ i may or may not have written this after watching challengers, so aemond is very mildly inspired by tashi.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @aqualogia)

The air in the studio was humid with sweat as dancers glided through the floor accompanied by the soft tunes of the piano. Your limbs ached with exertion, your toes cramped in your pointe shoes, yet you continued, turning and leaping with the others as you performed the routine. Your ballet master kept a close eye on everyone, throwing out corrections to every dancer while he stood tall. Everyone was putting in the extra effort, dancing as though they were performing in front of the largest audience. There was a clear tension in the air, brought about by the Paris Opera Ballet’s newest ballet master, Aemond Targaryen.

He was tough, highly critical, and was known to send dancers out the door in tears, but he was one of the best. It was known among your peers he was looking to cast dancers for his repertoire, hence the reason why everyone was on edge during his class.

You couldn’t help the way goosebumps rose on your skin wheneve his eye fell on you, silently willing yourself not to mess up in front of the silver-haired man. You paid extra attention to the finer details of your movements, your mind running an extra mile to keep yourself in check.

Shoulders down. Shift that weight forward. Deep plié. Eyes on your spot, and turn.

Aemond gave you an approving nod as you successfully landed your quadruple pirouette, two extra than what you normally do. You kept your face neutral and composed, despite the glee bursting through your chest. A nod was a high praise in the ballet world, even more so from the stoic Targaryen, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for not falling on your face. Perhaps he would consider you for a role, one where you wouldn’t be lost in the mass of tutus and other dancers in the background. You were a coryphée, second to last in the company's hierarchy, and you had been desperate to rise through the ranks and prove yourself to your superiors. With the arrival of the young ballet master, whose good eye kept shifting towards you as you continued to dance, you had a good feeling your golden opportunity would soon fall into your lap.

Two claps echoed through the studio, cutting through the soft music of the piano. You halted your movements, turning to your ballet master who had paused your rehearsal.

“Not quite, try that again,” he ordered. You and your dance partner, Tomás, returned to your previous position, moving through the choreography to Aemond’s direction as the piano started once more. You were both slick with sweat, breaths equally panting as you continued your rehearsal for Le Parc.

It was a classic piece of the Paris Opera Ballet, a crowd favorite, and you had been bestowed the honor of performing the piece after being cast by the Targaryen himself. It was safe to say the rehearsal wasn’t going well, after only having danced the first two minutes of the nine minute piece in the three hours you had been in the rehearsal studio. Both you and Tomás were under immense pressure, one that only grew with every dissatisfied look and a shake of the head from your ballet master. The danseur beside you was rumored to be up for a nomination to be the company’s next étoile– the star, top of the ballet food chain. One cannot simply climb the ranks through time and effort to be an étoile, they had to be chosen by one of the ballet masters, and what better chance would one have than getting chosen by the Aemond Targaryen himself? Hence the agitation Tomás emanated, its sticky heat rubbing off on you.

“Ah, come on,” your dance partner grunted, sighing when you had failed to grab his arms to be lifted from the air. The pianist stopped playing with another raise of a hand from Aemond, who stayed seated in his seat in front of the mirror. You mumbled an apology, anxiously looking to the silver-haired man who had stood up from his seat. He approached the pair of you, his stance intimidating as was his gaze when he regarded both of you.

“The preparation for the lift is all wrong, Tomás,” he reprimanded. Aemond gestured for the young danseur to step aside, taking his place. The ballet master gestured for you to repeat the movement, and obeyed. You took a step before jumping, turning mid-air before being caught into Aemond’s arms. His grip was tighter than Tomás, more sure. You felt safe while being lifted, your whole body pressed against his taut chest.

“You have to hold her tight. Keep her stable, yes?” Aemond emphasized. He continued to hold you flush to his chest with ease, showing Tomás the exact position he wanted you to to end in.

“How’d that feel?” The silver-haired man asked you, his hot breath fanning the side of your face. He carefully placed you back on your feet, keeping his hand on your waist until you were able to stand. Slightly flustered from thay singular touch, you timidly pushed back the loose strands of hair on your face to look at him.

“Uh, good! Pretty stable,” you squeaked. His touch left a warm imprint on your flesh, lingering even after Aemond walked back to his seat.

“Alright, now try it on your own,” the Targaryen urged. The music started back up, and you tried the lift again with Tomás. You earned a low ‘good’ from Aemond when you had done the lift a little more successfully with his guidance, though the difference in the men’s grip was evident.

You continued on with the rehearsal, flowing through the choreography with Tomás under Aemond’s watchful eye. He caressed his chin as he kept a close eye on your movements, signalling to the pianist to pause when either of you did a step not to his liking. With every partnering trick that came up, Aemond made sure to show Tomás, standing from his chair to turn, hold, and lift you before urging the younger danseur to try. About halfway through the piece, his grip on your body had grown familiar, with the way his large palm covered the expanse of your waist, his touch firm on your thigh, and the featherlight caresses on your arm.

After the endless corrections and directions from Aemond, he made you start from the top once more. You took slow breaths as you presumed your initial position, pacing yourself as you started off the dance with a few counts where danced alone. It was going smoothly, miraculously enough, but you must have jinxed yourself because as you shifted to turn, you felt it. A sharp pain shot up your ankle, making you stop and drop to the floor in an instant. You clutched your ankle, hissing in pain. In a blink of an eye, Aemond was by your side, kneeling beside you.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Let me see,” he urged, his tone now softer as he looked at you in concern. It was an old injury, a sprain from the start of your career that continued to haunt you now and then. You shook your head at the silver-haired man, before pushing yourself off the floor.

“It’s fine, Mister Targaryen. This always happens,” you reassured him, waving him off. Aemond stood back to his full height, gripping your elbow to steady.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup, I’m sure. Let’s continue,” you said, keeping the tone of your bright to reassure the silver-haired man before you. However, you could barely take a step forward without hissing in pain, your right ankle unable to bear the weight of your body. Aemond was quick to catch you before you stumbled, and you held onto both of his biceps. They were ridiculously firm under your touch, and if you weren’t in an immense amount of pain you would have ogled at the way they flexed underneath your palms.

“This won’t do, darling. I think this is enough for the day for the two of you,” Aemond sternly ordered, wrapping your arm around his shoulder to keep you stable.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tomás grumbled, frustrated with the interruption. Aemond’s eye shot up to the young man, his gaze sharp after hearing his complaint.

“Don’t give me that attitude when you can barely do a decent menáge. Now get the fuck out of my studio.”

You jolted at the sudden rise in Aemond’s voice, watching as Tomás practically shrunk in his skin, hurriedly turning around to grab his bags and leave the studio while the man beside you glared at the young dancer sharply. The moment the door shut behind Tomás, Aemond turned back to you, his gaze now rid of the harshness it had carried.

“Let’s get you to the therapy room, yeah?” He softly urged. When it had still been too mich for you to walk with his support, Aemond swiftly lifted you with his arms underneath your body, carrying you bridal style. Your face burned with embarrassment with having to be carried off by your strict, ridiculously hot ballet master this way, but he had been gentle with you.

Aemond stayed by your side as the physical therapist massaged the joint. His good eye watched you when your face contorted into one of discomfort when your ankle was rotated. You had thanked him profusely for his aid, and had tried to reassure him you were good to be left alone, but the silver-haired man stayed by your side silently, keeping a close eye on you.

You had been out of commission for three days, which you spent anxiously anticipating to be dropped from the role by your ballet master. You were done for, you decided. You had blown your chance, pathetically so in front of Paris Opera’s most influential ballet master.

As soon as you were cleared to return to rehearsals, you immediately jumped to your feet and practicing on your own. You went through the choreography over and over, finetuning your movements as you watched yourself in the mirror. It was late at night and you were the only one left in the building, or at least, you thought you were.

The door to the studio you occupied flew open, making you jump when the silver-haired man casually walked into the room. You stopped in your tracks, heart racing as he regarded you, seemingly unsurprised after finding you.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Aemond said, his smooth voice cutting through the music you plugged into the speakers.

“The doctor cleared me for rehearsals, Mister Targaryen,” you explained, to which he only responded with a hum. His good eye ran over your form, which was only clad in a leotard and athletic shorts. Your hair was down, as it was supposed to be in Le Parc, and your face was flushed from exertion, damp with sweat. Aemond took slow steps towards you with his hands clasped behind his back, meeting you in the middle of the room.

“You need to take better care of yourself, you know. A tear in your ligament is a tear forever,” he spoke, coming to tower in front of you. It was then you became insecure of your appearance, with your messy hair and sweaty face compared to his well-kept appearance. Your eyes stared into his good one, the other a cloudy white. He was incredibly handsome up close, this you realized, the sight of his sculptured jaw and aquiline nose making you visibly gulp. Your gaze dropped to his thin lips, which pursed before opening to speak once more.

“Yes, I know, Mister Targaryen, I’m sorry,” you muttered, tearing your gaze away to the floor. Two fingers placed themselves on the bottom of your chin, moving your head to look at him once more.

“Why are you apologizing?” Aemond asked. Your cheeks warmed as you stammered, unable to form a response. Truthfully, you were unsure why, perhaps it was for his disappointment for having hurt yourself, or for not having lived up to his expectations. The words you scrambled to find died on your lips when Aemond brushed a stray hair away from your face, before cupping you chin between his fingertips.

“I am only looking out for you. The Paris Opera may have some of the best rehab therapists under our roof, but some injuries just cannot be healed,” he said. Your eyes flickered to his cloudy eye, the rumors of his injury running through your mind.

You had heard in the past of the child protégé that was Aemond Targaryen, a young star destined for greatness. His family was descended from royalty and had been dancing in the King’s courts during the early formation of ballet. It was safe to say the young Targaryen was on his way to becoming one of the biggest stars in the ballet world, winning competitions left and right, receiving offers from the most prestigious ballet schools– Vaganova, Bolshoi, Joffrey, they all wanted him. The young danseur knew this was his legacy, to forge his name with the brightest stars in the ballet world. However, ballet was a deathly competitive sport, and dancers would do anything to climb the ranks, this Aemond had learned the hard way.

At 16, he had landed himself a spot as a finalist for the Prix de Lausanne, the most prestigious competition in the world, just a month before he was to fly off to Russia for training. It was the night before finals, he had been resting in his hotel room when a group of rowdy, inebriated dancers had knocked upon his door, wanting a glimpse of the famous silver-haired danseur. The details of the night remained unclear to the public to this day, but it was said that they had cornered the young Targaryen in his room, engaging in a scrapple that ended with Aemond rushed to the hospital, clutching his bleeding eye. That night, Aemond Targaryen’s dancing career met its tragic end. The ballet companies that once begged for him no longer wanted a scarred dancer who was blind in one eye, and his legacy had been reduced to nothing but a sad story.

And now, the silver-haired man stood before you, clutching your face as he studied your features. You were surely too close to each other to be considered appropriate, even more so when his free hand found its way to the dip in your waist, his warmth exuding through the fabric of your leotard.

“I don’t want to have to see you take your final bow before you reach the top,” he said lowly, his face subtly dipping an inch closer to yours. Your eyes slightly widened at his words, staring into his good eye for any sign of insincerity; you found none.

“You think I can reach the top?” you asked in disbelief, heart hammering in your ears. The corner of Aemond’s lips quirked upwards, his hand squeezing the flesh on your hip.

“Of course, you are one of the company’s most promising dancers,” he said, nodding lightly. You preened at his words, biting your lip as a big smile threatened to break out on your features. Your eyes fell to your fingers, fiddling with them as you turned shy at the ballet master’s high praise. The silver-haired man breathed out a chuckle at your reaction, his hand on your chin caressing the back of your head before settling on the nape of your neck.

“However,” he voiced, making you look back up at him. His face turned serious, making your own smile drop at his change of tone. “You have to go above and beyond to be nominated by your superiors. We have many talented dancers, many of whom are trying to climb the ranks, just like you. You have to make yourself stand out from the rest, do you understand?”

You nodded your head eagerly at him, your eyes displaying your sheer determination. “Yes, I understand, Mister Targaryen. I’m willing to do anything,” you said. There was a shift in Aemond’s eye when you uttered those words, the blues of his good eye brewing something darker. The grip on your waist turned tighter, shifting to rest on the small of your back as he pulled you in close.

“Anything?” he whispered.

“Y-yes, anything,” you replied. It was then you had begun to doubt your words, even more so when Aemond merely stared at you, his gaze analytic. A shudder ran up your spine when his eye dropped to your lips. A hum vibrates from his chest, and then he was pulling away from you, the warmth that engulfed you dissipating into a chill.

“Good. Now, why don’t we start from the top?” Aemond suddenly said, taking you by surprise. He raised his eyebrows at you, urging you to restart the music. You scrambled to where your phone was plugged into the speakers, restarting the music, before taking your starting position. Aemond positioned himself where the male dancer started, right in the center facing you. Your eyebrows furrowed while you did your first movements, clearly not expecting him to dance with you.

“You’re dancing with me?” you asked, confused. He merely smirked at you, watching you slowly move to the music towards him.

“Of course, you need to have a partner for this one, don’t you?”

The moment you touched him, Aemond started to move along with you. You flowed around him, soft and gentle. His moves were fluid, with textbook perfect technique and beautiful artistry. It was clear Aemond knew the choreography by heart, dancing along with you with ease. You subtly watched him through the mirror, amazement clear in your eyes. You were dancing with the Aemond Targaryen, being held and lifted by his strong hands. He danced like he had never left, flowing through the soft music while still clad in his boots and trousers.

“Don’t overthink it, little star, just move,” he encouraged, noticing how you were too focused on getting the movements right. With his advice, you willed yourself to let the tension in your shoulders go, gliding along the floor with Aemond’s guidance.

“There you go, well done.” Your face visibly brightened at his praise, meeting his eye in the mirror. A flush ran down from your cheeks down to your chest as he winked at you, a roguish smirk on his handsome features.

An incredulous smile broke out on your face as Aemond lifted you high up into the air with ease, still in disbelief with having found yourself in such a position. The dance was passionate, requiring great trust with your partner which you found with the silver-haired man with no trouble. You hadn’t felt this way when dancing with Tomás, nor with anyone really, with the way your muscles took a mind of its own and your body moved automatically with Aemond’s. To dance with the silver-haired man was something electric, filling you with an invigorating sensation as you sailed through the tunes of Mozart. You were lost in the music, you were lost in him, with the way his hands lingered a second too long after lifting you, his breath fanning over your face from your close proximity.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, snaking his arm around your waist when you leaned against him. Your heart raced as your chest heaved, from the exertion or from the adrenaline of dancing with the Targaryen man, you knew not. You missed the way Aemond’s eye raked down your form through the mirror, his gaze stuck on the sight of your nipples pebbled against the fabric of your leotard.

You stepped away from Aemond as you neared the climax of the piece, and it was then you faltered. You knew what was coming – the kiss. It was the highlight of Le Parc, with the dancers engaging in a long, passionate kiss as the man turned them around continuously. Your eyes were filled with uncertainty as you stood before Aemond, who was still watching your every move. Your fingers slightly trembled as you ran a hand down his body, and your breath shuddered when he did the same. You continued your movements around him, mind racing whether or not you should go through with the kiss. It was inappropriate, with him being your superior… but it was part of the choreography, was it not?

You faltered when you face to face before him, and for a second, you figured he wouldn’t want you to do it, but then you see it. A subtle dip of his head, and a flicker of his good eye towards your lips, waiting. You rose to the balls of your feet, planting your lips against his.

Aemond’s lips stayed on yours while your arms crossed at the back of his neck. His torso leaned back as you lifted your feet up the air, your whole weight leaned against his. You felt his lips move against yours as he spun you around, faster and faster around the room. You felt breathless and dizzy when he placed you back to the ground, but before you could continue with the choreography, Aemond’s hand grabbed the back of your neck to pull you back into his lips.

A gasp left your lips in shock, parting on instinct. Aemond’s tongue forced its way into the cavern of your mouth, the hot, wet muscle caressing your own. You pushed him away by the chest, but his stronger grip on you rendered you unable to pull away.

“Aem– Mister Targaryen, please,” you panted, trying to tear away the forceful hold on your waist. His other hand grabbed the hair on the back of your head, pulling on your damp tresses to make you look at him.

“You said you would do anything, wouldn’t you? Don’t you want to shine, my little star?” Aemond growled, before latching his lips on your sweaty neck. He groaned at the taste of your salty flesh, biting and sucking on the soft skin. You whimpered, your pulse thrumming dangerously against Aemond’s lips as you continued to push him off.

“I can make you shine. You’ll be first cast in any role you desire. You know I can make that happen for you,” he continued, pulling away to meet your teary gaze. The corners of your lips quivered downward when he caressed the side of your face, the touch giving you little comfort. Your whole body tensed when he pressed you flush into him, a stiffness poking into your thigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, swaying both of your bodies to the music that still continued to play through the speakers.

“You will be a star, my shining star. You want that, don’t you?” Aemond asked, his tone sticky sweet. As you met his sharp gaze, you weighed your options. He was right, he held the power to place you on top of one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the world, but you didn’t want to do it this way. You had the talent, and you wanted to prove your worth for the role, but he also had the power to take everything away from you. He can demote you, fire you, crush your entire career to nothing but dust. You couldn’t let that happen.

With a gulp and a soft nod, you shuddered when Aemond smirked down at you. His hand pushed your shoulder down, urging you to your knees. Shame coursed through you as you watched him unbuckle his dress pants to pull out his cock. A gasp left your lips when you were met with the sight of his impressive length. A throbbing vein ran the underside of his shaft, its cockhead flushed a deep red as it weeped a clear liquid. His hand guided the tip to your lips, but you kept them closed, turning your head away in refusal. With a frustrated grunt, Aemond’s free hand cupped your face, roughly turning it back to his cock. With your cheeks squeezed and your lips slightly parted, he slipped his length in. A delighted hum reverberated from your ballet master’s chest as he thrusted languidly into your mouth, adding inch by inch until he bottomed out. Your eyes squeezed shut when his tip hit the back of your throat, unable to resist the gag that squeezed his cockhead when it touched your uvula. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail, Aemond barely gave you a chance to take a breath before setting a steady pace of his hips. Your hands gripped his muscular thighs to balance yourself, hot tears dripping down your cheeks.

“Use your tongue,” the Targaryen ordered. You complied obediently, even going so far as hollowing your cheeks to please him further. You were starting to resign to your faith, if this is what it took to make you an étoile, fuck it. Aemond threw his head back, groaning in delight at the added pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it. My obedient little star,” he praised. His hips picked up their pace, pushing in and out of your mouth fast. The sound of your mouth taking his cock filled the studio, coupled with the music that continued to play from the speakers. His grunts continued to fall from his lips, his thrusts growing desperate as he neared his release. All of a sudden, Aemond pulled you off his cock. You coughed as you struggled to catch your breath, wiping off the pre-cum left on the side of your cheek. The flesh of your arm was gripped tight when the Targaryen pulled you to your feet, guiding you towards the mirror.

He turned you to face the reflection, your eyes meeting the sight of your flushed, teary face, lips swollen and cheeks stained with tears. Aemond caressed the exposed flesh of your arms softly, dipping his neck into the crook of your neck to suck a mark into the soft skin. You couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled back at the sensation, cursing your own body for its traitorous ways. His fingertips came up to hook into the straps of your leotard, pulling them down in one motion along with your bottoms. You crossed your arms instinctively to cover your parts, but Aemond was quick to stop you, grabbing your wrists to keep them by your sides.

“Don’t hide yourself from me now,” he scolded, tutting in mocking disapproval. You watched in the mirror as his eye took in your bare form hungrily, your body growing warm at his lingering gaze on your exposed breasts. His fingertips held a featherlike touch while they glided up the length of your arm, before grabbing hold of your plump tits firmly. A breath is hitched in your throat when he squeezed the soft flesh, a whine falling from your lips when he squeezed your perky nipples between his fingertips. You felt his cock jump behind you, hitting your rear. His touch traveled downwards, to your waist, your hips, and then cupping your sex with his large palm. A satisfied smirk spread on Aemond’s features when he pulled away his hand, the tips of his long fingers visibly wet and stick with your arousal when he spread them.

“Well, well, it seems like you’re enjoying yourself, little star,” he bragged, chuckling darkly when you meekly shook your head. “Deny yourself all you want, but your body will be thanking me by the end of this.”

“Please,” you pleaded. What you pleaded for, you didn’t know at this point, but you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere good at that point. You let him bend you over, pressing your hands to the cool mirror to steady yourself. You waited with bated breath as you felt Aemond line himself with your slit, gasping when he began to breach. The slick from your saliva on his cock helped lubricate his length, coupled with the slick that dripped from your core against your will. Your jaw fell slack at the almost painful stretch of your walls, a small whimper falling from your lips when he finally bottomed out. Aemond let out a groan when his hips met your ass, his hand leaving your waist to deliver a smack to the plump flesh. His aquiline nose pressed into your cheek, breathing in the sweet scent of your warm, damp flesh. His pace was unforgiving from the start, forceful and aggressive. The silver-haired man’s gripped your breasts in his large hands to ground himself, reaching deeper and deeper into your walls.

“Ah, ‘s so good, baby,” Aemond praised, biting the shell of your ear as he groaned. Despite how much you fought your own urges, you barely registered when your lips started to emit soft sounds that echoed through the room. The music had already ended, the only sound left being the smacking of skin against skin, and the sounds coming from you and Aemond. You both watched the way his length disappeared into your cunt, your chest starting to grow speckled with a red flush the more your body grew heated. His cock drove into the rough spot that made your skin tingle, sending sparks up your spine despite your wishes. Your hips moved on their own accord, subtly meeting his thrusts. Aemond let out a breathy chuckle in your ear, planting a kiss to the side of your head.

“Yeah, you like it, don’t you? Like my cock, pretty girl?” You bit your lip as you nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut in humiliation. The Targaryen tutted in your ear, grabbing your face to make you meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Look at me,” he ordered. You opened your hesitantly to meet his, though they threatened to close once more when his fingertips dipped down to circle your clit. Soft moans fell from your lips as he played with the bundle of nerves, the heat in your belly disgracefully growing the more he rubbed on your nub. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be ashamed. I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? Hm? Taking good care of my little star.”

Aemond was mindlessly rambling in your ear, his words making your stomach flip at the lewdness. His hips never faltered, snapping harshly into your ass continuously. The air in the room was hot and humid, droplets of sweat beading off of yours and Aemond’s skin. You whined as the heat in your belly rapidly grew upwards, rising to your chest. Your walls began to clamp down on Aemond’s cock, squeezing his length deliciously. He groaned into your ear, his fingertips still circling your clit hard.

“F-fucking hell, you gonna come?” The danseur asked. You grabbed his taut bicep in one hand, leaning your head back against his shoulder as a series of whiny ‘yesses’ fell from your lips. He continued to spurn you further, keeping his good eye on you when a particularly harsh thrust had you falling apart on his arms. The sight of your teary face scrunched up in pleasure, coupled with the sound of the sweet moan echoing through the quiet studio was what drove Aemond to his own release. He came with a loud grunt, spilling his hot seed into your walls. His strong grip around your waist held you up when your knees grew weak from the weight of your climax. Regaining your senses, you held onto Aemond for support, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. The imprint of your hands stained the glass, the gravity of the situation dawning on you as you stood in the aftermath. Shame washed over you for having debased yourself for leverage, and for finding pleasure in Aemond’s corrupted wickedness. The silver-haired man behind you held a smug look on his face, releasing a satisfied sigh before leaning his head against yours.

“Perfect.”

The cheers and applause of the crowd threatened to deafen your senses, yet it was a welcome sensation. You had taken your bow after a successful performance, standing with the numerous dancers on stage. Everyone waited with bated breath for the upcoming announcement, the air buzzing with equal excitement and nerves.

“Ladies and gentlemen, join us in congratulating the Paris Opera Ballet’s newest étoile,” the voice boomed through the theater. You turned to look at a nervous Tomás, giving him an encouraging squeeze of the hand. However, it wasn’t his name that was called, but yours.

The shock was visible on everyone’s features, as it was in yours. You felt their heated stares behind you while you stayed rooted to your spot, frozen in disbelief.

A tall figure walked onto the stage, holding a bouquet of flowers. The applause only thundered louder as the crowd is blessed with the sight of Aemond Targaryen, who was walking towards you with a smile on his face. Having been responsible for your promotion, he was the first to congratulate you, handing you the extravagant arrangement of flowers. He kissed both your cheeks respectfully, before whispering, “Congratulations, my little star. I trust I shall be seeing more of your graceful talents soon enough, yes?”

You looked up to meet his gaze, taking in the suggestive tone in his voice. It was then you realized what you had gotten to, what you had paid for greatness. Your lips widened to a sweet smile, giving Aemond a small nod, much to his satisfaction.

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #hotd x reader

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rosiesmuts · 8 months

Text

The Temptations of Jennie Kim

BLACKPINK Jennie

Words: 4,000

A/N: Boo! 👻

Jennie Kim is a pure unadulterated bitch.

Obstacle one is making it past the bouncer; having your name on the guest list makes that an easy task. Obstacle two is the sea of people; a VIP wristband solves that little inconvenience. Your expected prize for completing these side quests is a night of dancing, ending with divulging in the salacious body of a world famous idol. The light at the end of the tunnel is anything but. Obstacle three is something you couldn't see coming. That world famous idol has already found her seat, only it's on the lap of another man.

Your mind goes a million miles a minute trying to figure out a plan:

1) 'I should go up and confront her.' No, causing a scene wouldn't be good for anyone.

2) 'Fuck this I should just go home.' No, I can't let her just win so easily.

3) 'Fuck it, I'm already here, might as well grab a drink.' I guess this is the winner.

Probably not the best plan, but the one you've chosen.

"Don't tell me you're obsessed over her too."

An unfamiliar voice. Your eyes follow the voice, finding yourself face to face with a beautiful woman. It shouldn't be a surprise, this club is crawling with them. Too busy wallowing in your pity to notice her join your table and too late now to do anything about it.

"Huh?" Admittedly not the most suave response, but it's the one that comes blurting out.

"Jennie. Half the guys here are just sitting here staring at her, what's so special about her anyway?"

"Are you really surprised? BLACKPINK is a pretty big deal. Besides I want staring I was just-"

"Look at yourself, you're even sneaking in little peeks while talking to me."

Her hand is placed under your chin, forcing you to finally take a good look at her. You start to speak but she cuts you off.

"What’re you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

It's rare to see a woman take control. And here you were, sitting face to face with one. She flags someone down and orders you a fresh drink.

"What's your name?" You regret your lame choice of ice breaker the moment it's said out loud.

"Unimportant. Let's just have some fun and see where it leads."

Maybe there is a god. So far nothing you've said could be constituted as smooth, yet here she was, still giving you a chance.

Where things led was more surprises: first, a dance. A hot body pressed close and shaking, accompanied by a mind clouding cocktail of scents. Your eyes dart all over her: the glow of the mysterious woman's pale skin under the multicolored lights; her plump lips; her toned midriff.

"Still thinking about Jennie? I think you've got enough room to squeeze me in."

Both her hands come to rest at your hips, gently pushing yours forward and squeezing your body closer to hers. Your eyes lock, the music from the club fades out, and you find yourselves with your noses an inch away. This insanely hot girl, not the one you intended to spend tonight with, but not the worst thing you can think of right now. The tip of her nose brushes yours and her hands push forward one last time, the kiss can only be delayed a second longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jennie Kim has some nice timing. Just when you were about to give into this other woman, there was a tug on your shoulder and you're spun around–Jennie Kim's face, contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy.

"You. Step the fuck back, he's not yours." Jennie shoves her hand out to your impromptu date, but that was apparently not an adequate barrier to keep her away. The girl comes up and wraps around your arm, not allowing Jennie to steal you away.

"He was until you got in my way."

"In case you didn't hear: step the fucking hell away." Jennie is nothing short of livid. People have stopped dancing, staring at the unfolding scene. Your new date notices the attention.

"Fine! He's not worth it anyway." And just like that your new acquaintance storms off, her hips and the smoke trailing from the bottom of her black dress being the last you'll ever see of her.

"Walk. Right. Now." Jennie drags you towards the hallway, likely intent on either berating or maiming you somewhere in private. In any other scenario it would sound like the fantasy of every man in South Korea, but right now you know it's bad.

A private room behind the dancefloor, a much better place to be killed and your corpse dumped than in front of hundreds of witnesses. She shuts the door with a slam hard enough you think it might shatter and locks it with an unnecessarily loud click.

"Who the fuck was that? You've only been here two minutes and you're already on top of another woman?!"

"Hey, hey, fuck you Jennie. Do you know what I saw when I came here? After you invited me? Oh you were totally there, sitting on another man's lap."

"That's not the same."

"Not the same my ass. Can you even begin to explain what it is then? No of course you can't. Because you're a spoiled fucking idol who does whatever the fuck you want."

You turn to leave, but are pulled back and receive a rough slap across the face. There's no pain, only the sudden red color filling up that side of your vision. She did it again. This time it brings with it the burning sensation. A stinging radiates across your cheek, an angry mark that burns more as the adrenaline fades.

Then in almost cliche like fashion you grab her face and slam her into the nearby wall, returning her slap with an aggressive kiss. Jennie doesn't try to pull away, in fact she gives just as much as she receives. If her jealousy made her slap, her frustration makes her kiss harder, her teeth digging in slightly at her efforts.

"Someone is still obsessed with me hmm~?"

"Fuck you." The reply is snarled out through the tears in your teeth.

"Why don't you? Make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to. You weren't even interested in that slut anyway. All you could think about was me."

Any rebuttal was silenced the instant a hand traced the outline of the bulge forming in your jeans. No words need to be said; she's right, there's only her. Her face, her smell, her voice. Jennie bites your collarbone through the shirt to try and get a rise and boy does it. A firm hand groping her behind and pulling her into you, meeting the hardness growing in your jeans. Jennie chuckles, enjoying the reaction.

"Do it. Go ahead."

Jennie fucking Kim. The girl of your dreams. The girl of your nightmares. You've fallen into her trap. What's happening right now can only be described as karma's cruel payback, an attempt to dangle your greatest desire right in front of your nose–before a final humiliating insult is slapped on it.

"You little bitch." Jennie taunts you, unraveling her flirtatious intentions as her skirt rides higher and higher along with your patience. "Go on. Put me through the wall. Pull it out and fuck me as hard as you can."

It would be too easy, wouldn't it? Giving her what she wants after what she did. Instead she's dragged to the couch and bent over you knees. Jennie yelps in surprise, before realizing what's coming to her.

SMACK.

"I didn't say stop." Jennie responds after feeling the forceful slap at her backside.

Another. Jennie cries out, before letting the sweetest sounds come tumbling out of her mouth. Your palm raises once more, pauses, and then swings down and impacts against the exposed skin. A large pink spot forms on the exposed skin as a result and you're starting to think Jennie is actually getting turned on.

"P-please."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

Her panties are brushed to the side and two fingers plunge in and begin exploring without any warning. Jennie squeaks and curls up at the sudden and bold invasion, but it doesn't take long before those two fingers find the sweet spot and stimulate a cascade of pleasurable electricity. In and out they go, aided in their efforts by the squelch of their occupant's excitement. The couch rocks as Jennie arches and bucks wildly, alternating between sporadic whimpers and full on screams of delight.

"I'm so close...so so close..."

Your fingers pull free then another smack against her ass again, interrupting her moment of bliss.

"You think you deserve to cum Jennie? Hmm?"

Jennie answers with an arch to her back, a long, sensual moan that turns into a low pitched growl.

"Yes...Yes...just let me cum please please."

She's grinding at the air, her desperation on full display. You're just a few seconds away from finishing her, of making this cute bitch cry out and go rigid as waves of pleasure radiate all the way from her groin to the rest of her body.

"Feel that pressed against your stomach Jennie? I think you need to suck it. Prove you deserve it."

Her feet meet the ground as she kneels between you legs, and with a final lustful glance, begins to pull away the zipper to your jeans. "You're a real fucker aren't you? Fine, I'll show you."

Down goes your underwear, tossed to the side of the couch, and up Jennie comes with the heaving package in her face. A tiny lick along the bottom of the shaft and then a more robust and adventurous one the entire length. No preamble this time, only the sudden heat and wetness as the girl with a history of petty remarks envelopes your member, coiling her tongue around the sensitive areas and sinking further into your lap.

This girl, Jennie Kim. How can she be so talented at such a crude act? The walls of her mouth shift in a thousand ways as she draws a throaty groan out of you, her tongue expertly knowing all the ways to drive you crazy. This fucking bitch, going deep, purposely drooling all over it, and looking up in satisfaction as she gags and chokes. Up and down she goes, swallowing and sucking back a mouthful every single time she rises. The picture perfect idol, loving nothing more than a throat full of cock, a wide streak of mascara under her eyes and spit all over her face.

The room grows ever hotter, the look in Jennie's eyes begging, imploring for you not to hold back. You sit upright and clutch onto her hair, fingers locking as tight as possible to guide her, taking charge of her bobbing head, sending yourself all the way up to your pelvis. Her arms are limp, her face is a mess, you've reduced a famous singer and model to a panting wreck, and that sight is almost too much.

"Fuck my mouth..." the pleads of the famous superstar when you let her up for air. Her request is granted, her hair gets pulled and the momentum carries your pulsating member all the way to the base. Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter until the tip of her nose touches the pubic bone and her jaw is stretched as wide as possible, the outline of the member embedded into her throat.

The unholy gags are the hottest fucking thing ever. And the little flutters, her struggle not to cough, the spasms. Jennie Kim, proudest bitch alive. Choking and gagging on your cock, no thoughts in her brain of anything else but to please. She loves it, she wants it. More, more, more, always more, begging with her eyes the only way she could.

With a heavy gasp, you finally let up, letting her burning lungs draw air. While she is a coughing wreck, her face slick with tears and saliva, the thought that fills the forefront of her mind is exactly what's about to happen. The thrill, the idea, the exhilaration, she can't contain the giggling smile.

Jennie was a bad girl, touching herself while you fucked her face, showing off her fingers covered in her own juices and licking them clean. This woman was going to be the end of you, that smirk.

"You and that stupid ass cock." Jennie takes matters into her own hands, straddling your lap, lining up the tip. She's in control, now she'll decide just how far you'll sink into her.

"Dumb fucking whore." Your fingers wrap around her delicate neck. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but in excitement. They darken, her pupils dilating, the clear response to the aggression is reflected in a quickened pulse under the flesh. It isn't surprising the more forceful you get, the wetter she seems to get.

And holy fuck it feels so fucking good, Jennie's lower lips engulfing your tip. The walls of her cavern part and pull you deep within her, her breathing changes pace and volume, whimpering and panting as it sinks in further. She's warm, she's welcoming. Every inch is a bit tighter, the friction causing your heart rate to rise, and her arms, encircling you in a vice grip, coaxing a tighter hold on her throat. You can almost see the lightheaded effect it's having, the subtle shifts in her vision, the dream like daze that accompanies such euphoric sexual bliss.

Up and down Jennie bounces, the tempo of her breathing just a second out of synch, every moan coming just a second later. You don't try to hide your own pleasure either, groaning with a volume only a centimeter away from yelling and definitely noticeable beyond the walls. With a firm slap to the ass, her pussy responds in the best possible way; squeezing tightly for a moment and sending a pleasant shiver down your body.

Jennie fucking Kim. Her tightness, her perky tits, the fucking supermodel and worldwide heartthrob, riding you. That's a story to tell. The sight of this gorgeous bitch bouncing up and down like her life depends on it, the sound of flesh colliding reverberating throughout the room.

Her cries of pleasure come louder, with no sign of the fun ending any time soon. Another thrust and her eyes roll to the top of their sockets. The adorable scrunch in her nose, the contortion of the expression of carnal pleasure, the euphoria right after. The small smirk in the corner of her lips and the grinding of her hips into yours. She's close. Her face gives that away. Her walls pulsate, and if that doesn't sell it the pitch change of the moans certainly do. Her noises shift in timbre. Whines and loud whimpers, the sudden erratic nature.

There's no stopping her now, it's out of your control, and it's fucking beautiful. Jennie fucking Kim, cumming on your lap. Her thighs begin to spasm, a waterfall of juices spilling all the way down to the floor, pooling around your ankles. That fucking face, a cacophony of ecstasy. Then with one final, powerful groan, she suddenly stops. Her eyes shoot open and she curls up, freezing and grinding away. You pull her hair back, forcing the perfect idol to bare her neck and shriek, as her orgasm consumes her senses, her legs thrashing about and toes curled into their arches. Jennie fucking Kim came, her face red and a smile creeping upon the ends of her lips.

It's not over, not even close. Jennie's face a mask of desire, her breathing deep, still needing more, the short, panting breaths catching the tiny pieces of her hair waving across her face.

"Fuck me like you mean it." Jennie goads you on. Your hands wrap around her tiny waist, fingers digging into her flesh, and you start thrusting. Up into her body, down into her lap, each of her downward drops meeting a upward thrust, your hips meeting hers halfway. In no time her squeaky noises are echoing against the walls, your pelvic bones colliding hard, both of your bodies jerking about as you throw everything into each pump. Her eyes turn dark, a drunken gaze. Fuck yes, those lips curling back into a naughty, crazed smile.

"You can't fucking resist it can you?" Jennie screams the question, feeling your hands force her up and slam her back down with your hips surging forward. Her whole body lurching backwards from the impact and then snapping forward from the following motion. Another one, the smack of flesh meeting flesh resounding once more and the squirt of liquids spraying the air and wetting the sides of the couch. Jennie no longer cares, letting her body get fucked and then roughly jammed downwards and impaling herself repeatedly, filling the room with the loud slaps.

"You're nothing but a fucking whore aren't you?" You say it directly to her face and as expected the deprecating talk turns her on like nothing else. A genuine laugh followed by a growl and a "you want this tight pussy all for yourself?"

And another smack, a spank and a squeeze of her delicate ass. Her neck tilts backwards. Yes! Look into those deep pools, her gorgeous, intense stare. Losing control, that face, her mouth, it's open and wet and covered in saliva. That cute kittenish tongue sticking out of the edge of her lips.

Another thrust. Jennie's body flies forward from the impact, a lustful grin stuck on her face, burying your face in her small tits. Her chest jiggles with each pounding, a single moment of freedom followed by an instant of being engulfed in their softness. Those perfect mounds of flesh, enough to drive any sane man or woman mad with obsession, bouncing inches from your eyes, sweat coating their supple surface. Her giggle erupts and she sees that dumb smile plastered all over your face. Her nose rubs against your own. The stare is intense.

"We really fucking hate each other huh?" Jennie teases then goes in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy affair, her nails dig into your back, leaving a series of scratches as her pussy tightens around the engorged member within her. She's cumming again, the contractions drawing out another series of grunts.

"That's right, keep your dumb cock buried inside, you fucking love this tight pussy."

Oh how far this idol has fallen, the foulest mouth coming out the prettiest lips. Then she whispers in your ears to hold her hips tighter and fuck her harder, and fuck did you deliver. Her throaty groans filling your ears, a crescendo and a rapid beating pulse under your palms. You're close, this little superstar making sure you're as deep as you can be and clinging for dear life.

Jennie's hands wrap around your throat, squeezing, choking the life out of you, your vision blurring, and at the same time she's squirting a second wave and shaking violently. Her hips never stop moving, fucking herself silly. She doesn't stop, the nasty smirk has returned and a mumbled string of 'fuck fuck fuck' under her breath.

Jennie fucks you. Those perfect abs, her slim body, the smell of sex radiates all throughout. You're getting lightheaded, this cute piece of ass a violent whirl of raven hair and painful grip. The harder she orgasms, the harder she squeezes your neck. Then, stars start filling your field of vision and your vision goes white, the pulses start firing. Sick sadistic oxygen depravation brings one of the hardest orgasms in your life. That twisted smirk of the psychotic woman, the evil in her gaze as the heat fills the pit of her belly. She feels it, your load splashing inside of her womb. As you release, so do her fingers, the blood rushing back to your brain not a moment too soon.

Her expression, oh how proud she is for her conquest. You couldn't look anywhere else, this perfect devil in front of your eyes. The cute, tingly and erotic feeling flowing from your groin, it never stops and only grows, the continuous shots, emptying everything you have into her. This little fucking bitch, controlling you until the very end.

Jennie fucking Kim sits satisfied as you gasp for air, a mixture of confusion, satisfaction, and pleasure overwhelming your body. That beautiful little smirk, her hips rolling about, enjoying your final twitches before everything softens.

"See, now tell me that wasn't worth the wait."

Jennie collapses forward, a content sigh, a murmur in your ear about how her body feels. Your legs and feet tingle, a sort of numbness and buzz from the powerful waves of euphoria. Jennie stretches like a cat, all while nuzzling against your neck.

She leans in for a kiss, soft, gentle, uncharacteristically kind. Fingers thread into her hair, your palm resting against the side of her neck. She's warm, and tired, the once energetic and brash girl now settling down, almost vulnerable.

"You know why I keep coming back to you?" Jennie seems almost kind, running her hands through your hair and looking at you with loving eyes.

"Must be my big cock." You tease her, pinching her bum, and stealing another kiss in the process.

"Of course you can't be serious for a single fucking minute." Jennie shoves her shoulder against yours. "No you idiot. When we fuck, it's so fucking good. And look at you. Trying to act all tough, but when I tell you to fuck me harder you do just that. And when I tell you just like that you don't change pace for a moment."

The affection, her soft words. Jennie Kim loves to act hard, to show herself off. There's the world's most famous pop star, snuggled into your shoulder. Her finger tracing along the outline of your chin, the last few beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and her eyelashes. Jennie almost looks sweet, smiling down upon you. That signature gummy smile, the tiny dimple on one side. How can someone so rough, have such a charming side?

"Give me your jacket fucker."

Now this, this was much more of a Jennie thing to say. What a cute and silly request after something as passionate as what the two of you did. Jennie's sweat soaked body. Your brain is a fog, still lost in the moment, struggling to take the demand seriously, still looking at those flawless thighs, now tinged pink.

"I can't leave this place looking like this. You're taking me home. Don't think I'm done with you yet." The look in her eyes, that mischievous glimmer. A girl bent on devouring you. Her knee pressed against your crotch drives you back into reality. "Did you not get the fucking memo? Hurry the fuck up."

There is no shortage of nerve in this girl, and fuck if her confidence and commanding tone isn't doing anything for the part of your brain in charge of desire. If anything, you know she's not exaggerating, she still isn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.

It'll be another long night, the same pattern of anger and lust. Spoiled fucking idol Jennie Kim, turning you into a fucking puppet. Letting you do the strangest things to her in the middle of the night. That bitch. That perfect little devil.

And you wouldn't have it any other way...

#male reader #blackpink smut #blackpink jennie smut #jennie smut

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donatellawritings · 3 months

Note

tella!!!!!! how does rafe feel about sweetheart reader doing coke with him like would he allow her to?/????? to me I don't think he would give a fuck as long as he is with her ty tella

idk he’s so tricky i think he’d be against it ngl …

since he started dating you, rafe had drastically cutdown on his cocaine intake - he had caught on to how scared you’d become at his frantic behavior and induced outbursts, so he decided not to do it as much, limiting his indulgence to maybe once or twice a month. he usually kept you away whenever he’d be high, not wanting to have your high and positive perception of him to be fucked with by the white powder. however, as time and your relationship progressed, rafe found it harder and harder to be away from you, i mean you wore his initials around your neck, and found solace on his lap, more often than not. you were his and he was yours. so, you accepted all of him, as he did you.

the obnoxious boom of trap music vibrating through topper’s house muffled your hearing as you carefully made your way through the crowd of people. your body was hugged tightly by the pink strapless dress that clung to your every curve, your supple breasts pushed up just right as you made it to the backyard. your pink gifted louboutin heels clicking against the cobblestone pavement as you lightly swayed your hips to the music. you were about three drinks in and it was safe to say that you are tipsy, not even one-hundred percent sure as to how you managed to convince rafe that you didn’t need him to accompany you while you grabbed another drink.

you earned envious stares and inappropriate ogles as you found your way back to rafe, who sat with topper and kelce, a shit-eating grin on his face as he carefully cut the white powder into three neat lines. something strange had switched within you and left you biting into your bottom lip as you watched your boyfriend snort the line through a rolled dollar bill, before throwing his head back with a smile. maybe it was the fact that you were borderline wasted, or maybe your curiosity about the drug had finally gotten the better part of you - all you knew was that you were turned on and wanted to experience the same blissful high that rafe was currently riding on.

deciding to make your presence known, you took a long sip of your drink, your glittery gloss leaving a stain on the rim of the cup as you sauntered over to rafe, before taking a seat on his thigh, your plush ass clashing with the fabric of his khaki shorts while you ran a hand down his firm chest, “are you high?” you asked, your pearlescent nails now aimlessly toying with rafe’s chain.

looking at you with pupils that were blown to hell, rafe let out an amused laugh, bringing an arm to rest around your waist as he nodded, “yeah, y’want to try it?” he retorted, initially intending for it to be received as a lighthearted tease.

you beamed with an eager smile, “can i?”

rafe’s eyebrows furrowed as he internally fought with the idea of whether or not he should let you try it. a part of him was secure in knowing that your first high would be with him, under his supervision, yet a different part of him remained deadset on never letting that happen. rafe’s hand made its way to the back of your neck, clasping around it gently as he took a quick look of the partygoers who paid to get high on his supply. he couldn’t have you, his sweet girl walking around looking like the rest of these young adults who couldn’t even put a proper sentence together. you were pretty, pure, and smart - he refused to be the one who fucks that up.

pressing his lips to your forehead, rafe shakes his head, “maybe another time, mama - y’too pretty for it,” rafe declines, his grip on you slightly tightening as your face fell, his eyes watching closely as you took another sip of your drink, before sinking back against his chest. you were spoiled rotten by him and he knew it.

rafe hated saying no to you, but it was his job to keep you safe.

“but you do it, rafe,” you quipped with a roll of your eyes, leaning forward to stand up, before rafe pulls you back against him, his hand firmly rooted around the back of you neck, “leave me alone,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes away from rafe’s as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look directly at him.

topper and kelce continued their conversation, without missing a beat, they knew better than to cut in while rafe spoke with you, let alone, put you in your place, “watch your mouth,” rafe stiffly tapped your jaw with two fingers, “don’t fuckin’ embarrass me, a’ight,” he scolded, his peaked high now coming to a low point as you remained silent, your face twisted with a bitchy attitude.

completely influenced by the alcohol that coursed through your veins, you shifted your weight, licking over your dry and swollen lips as you ran your nails through your hair with a childish shrug, “you’re not my father,” you muttered, your words now ringing in rafe’s ears as he let out a huff, his body falling tense as he stood up, nearly knocking you over.

“m’gonna take her home,” rafe spoke, his tone a bit too calm as he grasped ahold of your hand, silently pulling you along with him.

your heels unevenly clicked against the pavement as you silently followed rafe, his hand nearly crushing yours as he pushed his way through the crowd of people, dragging you as if you weighed nothing. your beasts bounced with each step you took as you made it out of the house, the chill of the crisp midnight air hitting your exposed shoulders as rafe dropped your hand. the tall man remained silent as you continued to approach his truck, your chest radiating with warmth as he made it a point to open the passenger door for you, despite your bratty behavior.

you parted your swollen lips to speak, before rafe raised his hand, silencing you, “get in the car,” he spoke sternly, you quickly nodded, entering the car quietly as he slammed the door shut. you knew full and well that the moment rafe entered the car, you were absolutely screwed.

rafe was uncharacteristically quiet as he entered the car, his eyes focused on properly pulling out of the parking spot as you fiddled with your gifted chain. rafe knew upon meeting you that you were a sweet girl, yes, but a complete pushover? absolutely not. you were submissive enough in the relationship, to where he felt it perfectly balanced his naturally dominant demeanor, but he would be lying if he said that, you didn’t get under his skin when you played the role of a spoiled little girl.

he would never hurt you though, despite his past track record of becoming loose with his hands towards his former partners - you made that crystal clear when you started dating. so, you didn’t care if he roughed you up a bit, as long as he didn’t go too far with you. yet, you sat tense in the passenger seat, subconsciously grinding your teeth together as you mentally prepared for one of his repeated lectures, your lashes damp with awaiting tears as you waited for which selection of harsh words that rafe would hurl at you.

deciding to break the uncomfortable silence, rafe lets out an unamused chuckle, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead, “m’not your father,” he nods to himself, his tone mimicking yours from earlier, “no fuckin’ shit, but i’m the man who takes care of you, the one who-who makes you happy — keeps you safe, yeah?” he rambles, more so to himself, his hand lifting off of the leather steering wheel to motion towards you.

you licked over the fat of your bottom lip, parting your sticky lips to speak, before he raises his hand to silence you, “i don’t even do that shit as much as i used to, ‘cause last time i checked, you didn’t like how it made me big bad rafe, right?” he continued, taking a quick glance at you, ignoring the small pang of guilt that he’d felt, seeing your eyes welled with tears, “so tell me, princess, why the fuck would i let you try that shit?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised as he returned his hand back to the steering wheel, awaiting your answer.

you took a breath, quickly wiping your eyes, “i dunno, rafe, i just saw you do it a-and i was drunk, so i asked,” you cried, your voice thick as you struggled to steady out your shaky breathing. you hated confrontation, especially when it came to your boyfriend, he knew how deep his words could cut. “i just don’t know why you’re so mad at me,” you squeaked, tears falling onto your flimsy pink dress.

“m’upset because you act like a spoiled fuckin’ kid whenever you don’t get what you want,” rafe retorts, his voice stern as he pulls into the driveway of tannyhill, hastily parking the car, before exiting, allowing the door to slam closed as he made his way to the passenger side, opening the door for you, “lets go, m’tired and i have shit to do tomorrow,” he coaxed.

ꪆৎ

you decided to take a shower and do your obsessively thorough skincare routine, as means to kill time and think about just how you were going to get back in rafe’s good graces. he was stubborn, yet consistent, he hadn’t spoken to you since you entered the house, leaving you to do whatever you pleased as he silently made his way to your shared bedroom. so, you decided to pretty yourself up, you cleaned face, glowing from the array of serums and oils that you’d spent obnoxious amounts of money on, your swollen lips glazed from your gisou lip oil, freshly detangled hair falling down your shoulders. your body butter-nourished skin was clad in one of rafe’s t-shirts, nothing underneath as you were freshly shaved.

shutting off the bathroom light, you padded your way into the bedroom, where rafe sat quietly, resting with an arm behind his head as he kept his tired blue eyes focused on the random netflix show he’d selected for the duration of the evening. “hi, papi,” you called out softly, a pout pushing on your lips as he looked over you, before returning his gaze to the television.

with a roll of your eyes you walked over to the side of the bed where rafe laid, letting out a breath as you you straddled his hips, your bare slick sitting perfectly atop his exposed pelvis.

“s’not good for couples to go to sleep mad at each other, papi,” you cooed, arching your back as you laid against him, batting your wispy lashes at rafe as he looked down at you, bringing his hand to rest on the curve of your back. “i think you should be nice to me, i miss my sweet rafe,” you smiled cheekily, earning a low groan from rafe as you lightly bit his bottom lip, before quickly pecking his lips with a kiss.

your boyfriend sits unhumored, his face blank of any expression as he brings his hand to sit atop of the curve of your back, “yeah, well i miss when my girl wasn’t such a spoiled brat and spoke to me like she had some fuckin’ sense,” he countered, blinking as you let out a dramatic gasp, tilting your head to the side.

“i’m not spoiled, you treat me like i’m a kid,” you rolled your eyes.

“‘cause you act like one.” rafe sighs, lowering the volume on the television, leaning his head back against the sturdy headboard with a sleepy huff. truth be told, rafe could easily fall asleep in this position, but he knew that you wouldn’t leave him alone until he was ‘nice’ to you, “go to sleep, i have to wake up in a few hours,” he muttered, lightly patting your ass.

you didn’t give up, biting down into the swell of your bottom lip as you brought your face closer to rafe’s with a devious grin, “okay, but y’should know that i just shaved and i’m not wearing any panties,” you sang, to some avail as rafe slid his hand underneath your shirt, cupping the plush skin of your bare ass and exhaling through his nose as you cutely wiggled your hips.

“okay, y’know what since y’claim to be such a good girl — you could sit on my dick while i watch this show,” he smiled, lowering the waistband of his boxers just enough to allow his semi-hard cock to be freed, his mushroom tip hitting your lower abdomen as you smiled with delight - a win is a win.

“and you won’t be mad at me anymore?” you questioned, neatly spitting down onto rafe’s hardening cock, evenly spreading out the slick over his shaft, before you guided him inside of you, a low hum vibrating through you as his full length swallowed into your achingly wet pussy.

“nope, now just sit and go to sleep, okay mama?” he cooed, pulling you down to lean against his chest, letting out a groan as your hips shifted around him.

now full and content, you pecked your lips to rafe’s jaw, mumbling a low ‘love you’ before resting your head on his shoulder as you allowed the sound of his heartbeat to lull you into a dreamy nod. completely oblivious to how rafe would sneak kisses all over your face while you fell into a deep sleep, his large hand fiddling with your empty ring finger. he was tempted to fuck his hips up into yours, but he figured he’d saved that for when the sun decided to rise, relishing in your leaking warmth suctioning around his cock.

#anon #asks #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #obx #obx imagine #sweetheart!reader

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strangersmunsons · 2 months

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Eddie goes shopping with you. eddie munson x gn!reader, ~900 words

“Okay, now what do you think of this?” You hold out a crisp white button-down shirt.

“I think that’s great,” he says automatically.

“Eddie,” you sigh impatiently, “you’ve said that about every article of clothing we’ve seen today. I need like, an actual opinion.”

“That is an actual opinion.” He sounds offended that you might suggest otherwise.

“C’mon, I’m trying to look professional! You gotta help me.”

“I am helping!” Eddie holds up both arms to emphasize his point — he’s laden with bags from the stores you hit earlier in your shopping venture, weighed down with the new clothes you’re purchasing so as to better look the part for your new job.

A small giggle escapes you in spite of your exasperation. “I told you you don’t have to carry any of those,” you remind him, folding your arms across your chest.

Eddie scoffs. “And what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you haul this crap around all day?” He shakes his head, dark curls tumbling about his soft face. “No way. Wayne raised me right, thank you.”

“Well, that he certainly did,” you admit, a rush of affection warming your chest. Unable to help yourself, you reach out and pinch his little cheek between your thumb and index finger.

He pouts at the gesture, pretending to be annoyed; but really, a thrill shoots through him at the brief moment of contact. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for you to be touching him always.

But it’s not like that. Not for you two.

Eddie tells himself that it’s okay, that he’s accepted it, he’ll content himself with daydreams and fantasies as he always has —

“Do you think black looks classier, though?” You’ve turned back to face the clothing rack again, thoughtfully fingering the silky fabric of a dark shirtsleeve. Your eyes narrow. “Or is it almost too formal?”

Eddie blinks dazedly, then shrugs. “I dunno. I wear black all the time, no one’s ever put me up for best dressed.” He frowns. “I suppose it’s a little different when it’s a Metallica t-shirt, though.”

You poke him playfully. “Or ripped jeans.”

Eddie swats your hand away, heart leaping.

You snicker in response, then soften. “For the record, I do like the way you dress. It goes with your whole thing, y’know?” You motion towards him vaguely, hands waving up and down his figure.

“My thing?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “The hair, the attitude, the music. Even your name. The whole thing.”

“What does my name have to do with any of that stuff?”

You shift your weight from foot to foot as you think about how to word your answer, tongue poking ever so slightly out of your mouth — an unconscious imitation of the face Eddie often makes when he’s focusing. He swoons a little when he realizes that you’re picking up some of his habits.

“I mean, if I didn’t know who you were, and someone told me to pick out the guy named Eddie Munson from a crowd of a hundred people, I could do it like that,” you tell him, snapping your fingers on the last word. “No one has ever looked more like they should be named Eddie Munson than you.” Your eyes cut over to his. “Does that make sense?”

Bewildered, Eddie’s eyebrows have shot up so high they’ve all but disappeared under his bangs. “…kind…of?”

You pat his shoulder, amused. “Don’t worry about it. Just look at the shirt.”

Obediently, his gaze flits back to the top. You smile expectantly, and he works to offer some sincere judgment.

“Um, it looks comfier than the white one? Not as starchy.”

You nod sagely. “True.” You examine it more closely, a flicker of uncertainty clouding your features. “Do you think it’d look okay on me?”

Of course he does. He thinks you look nice in everything. In your pajamas, in your dressiest formalwear — it doesn’t matter. He never wants to hold you any less. To him, you’ve always the most beautiful person in the world. Whatever you happen to put on your body is irrelevant.

But this is the whole point of him accompanying you; he practically begged for you to let him tag along, swearing that it would be fun and that he’d help you. You’d been a smidge embarrassed at first, certain he’d grow impatient with your indecisiveness and bored with the constant vanishing into dressing rooms, but you seem comfortable now, letting him tote your bags around and asking for his advice. He hopes you’ll take him again next time, and then the next time, and then again after that…

“Yes, I do. I think you’d look really wonderful,” he finally answers. “You look incredible in everything you wear. Honest. You don’t need to worry about anything you buy today.”

Your eyes shine, a bashful smile spreading across your lips. “Really?”

“Of course,” he replies, face reddening. “You — you could wear a potato sack and make it look good, frankly.”

You laugh. “Yes, I’m sure that would be very flattering on me.”

“Hey, I think you could rock it.” He knows you think he’s teasing you, but he means it. And he’ll tell you again, and again, and again, until you believe him.

He’s got nothing but time.

#just a quick lil thing here :^) kinda just jotted this one down #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #lovesick!eddie #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

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stigmalarity · 9 months

Text

college roommate!Miguel x reader

| gn! reader, masturbation, dildos, voyeurism

College Roommate!Miguel who gets back to your shared apartment after class and is puzzled by the noise complaint tacked to the door.

The fine print describes loud noises during the hours that he’s not at home, meaning it would have to be you. But that’s still odd.

In the handful of months that the two of you have been roommates, he’s never known you to be loud. In actuality, most people would probably consider you the perfect roommate. You’re quiet, clean up after yourself, cook extra food for him, stay on top of chores, and mostly stick to your room. When the two of you do spend time together, it’s never awkward, just… comfortable. Neither of you feel the need to over-exert yourselves with social interaction while in the comforts of your own home.

Miguel likes being around you. He thinks you’re pretty.

He brings up the complaint that night as you cook dinner side-by-side.

“By the way, I came home to a noise complaint today,” he says, chopping up veggies to throw into the noodle dish you’re making. “It said something about loud noises, but it’s only during the hours when I’m not around. Have you heard anything?”

He doesn’t look at your face, but he notices the way you pause.

“Oh, um,” you start, stirring up the noodles in the wok. “I dunno, I must have been playing my music a little too loud while you were at school. My bad,” you reply. “I’ll try to keep it down.”

Miguel shrugs. “Got it. No worries,” he replies. Since he’s never experienced you being loud, he doesn’t really know what else it could be. He lifts the cutting board, and sweeps the veggies into the wok.

It’s not until a week later when his final lecture of the day gets canceled that he figures out what the noise complaint could have been about.

He doesn’t see you when he walks in, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s only when he takes out his headphones that he hears it.

His first guess is that you’re crying, and it’s technically none of his business to figure out why. As he gets closer, though, he hears it; slick, wet sounds accompanied by your voice, a bit muffled, letting out the most debauched, lecherous wails he’s ever heard.

By some sheer, dumb stroke of fate, your door is open just a crack. His palms are sweating and his pants are tightening as he approaches. He considers turning away when suddenly he hears you, clear as day. You must have pulled away from whatever you had been pressing your face into.

“F-fuh- oh, god- Fuck, Miguel!”

All the blood in his body rushes to his cock, and he’s stepping closer faster than he can think, his eyes trained on that crack in the door. When he sees you, his mind goes blank.

You’re on your knees on the bed, your chest pressed to the sheets and your cheek turned away from him. Your arm is tucked under your torso and between your legs, fucking yourself silly with a flesh tan dildo that for a moment, reminds him of his own cock. Your pretty hole is absolutely soaked, and there's a frothy, white ring gathered at the base of the dildo that he wants to see you lick off.

He stays there, his hand squeezing at his now ridiculously hard cock over his pants as you push yourself up to face the headboard, adjust the dildo underneath you, and start bouncing.

You moan his name again. Then, as if remembering something, you press your hand over your mouth, swallowed by the sleeve of the hoodie that your other hand is tugging up your waist. The bed creaks beneath you, but you keep going.

Arousal lurches hot in his stomach when he realizes the hoodie is one he’s been missing for weeks.

Miguel only lets himself watch for a few more moments, hungrily taking in every inch of you, every noise that escapes your pretty lips and committing it to memory before he turns around and walks back to the door. He opens it wide, then slams it shut, loud enough for you to hear. Your moaning ceases.

His eyes are trained on your bedroom door as you rush over and shut it completely.

#this came to me in a vision as i was washing off my toys in the bathroom sink #winnie writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #atsv x y/n #spider man 2099 x reader #atsv x you #atsv smut

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 21 days

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Hey >:) Just a thought I had while reading the child creator AU.

What if the child was actually on of the archons? like, would you imagine it being Zhongli or Venti? They be like:

Zhongli: I demand to know who the father is! *looking threadedly while holding his spear, ready to pounce at someone* Creator: *sweating and thought* It's you bu. *The other Archons arguing as to which mortal it was that laid their hands on their creator*

Creator: *looks at them, then looking at Venti* *Venti, catching the creators gaze, winked and took his tonged out, fully knowing he was the father but keeping quite. He wasn't that dumb.*

Anyway that's enough of me, bye!

Archon's son

WC : 1k, venti: 591 zhongli:594

(somehow they ended somewhat close! I thought zhongli would be longer by a fair bit)

Cw:

venti- nahida can see the baby kicking inside the belly (I heard some people feel it's like body horror so just in case)

Zhongli -reader passed out because of low iron, pica/eating rocks

I will admit that this is mostly centered around the idea that they do know that it's theirs or it's likely to but at the beginning there is something along the line of that, anyway, wouldn't it be fun if venti's child could change some features, one day he looks like you and the next he is his dad's clone

“Why is everyone so silent?” Venti fills his glass with some wine, the atmosphere thick enough to cut. You were hosting dinner in your serenitea pot, something informal and a thinly veiled excuse to strengthen links between nations, and somehow the papers written by your physician were next to the door long enough for both zhongli and the tsaritsa to read.

“Their situation implies that they shared bed with a mortal” the tsaritsa crosses her arms above her chest, the way her lips curved and the roll of her eyes show her distaste for the situation.

“If their grace wanted to be accompanied by a man shouldn't that be their choice?” Venti says out loud while feigning innocence “who are we even to judge that?”

“Surprisingly enough Barbatos does have a point, to react like this is to some extent patronizing” Nahida nods along.

“tsk!”

“They seem pleased enough with the current situation so I find no reason to meddle” Raiden speaks for the first time since being seated. As much as the tsaritsa would have liked to snap back at her, you appear from the hallway oblivious to their fight so she chooses to bite her tongue and hope you bring it up later.

“Aren't they fidgety…” Nahida mumbles softly as you pat her hair, the soft white hair mixing with her green streaks. Her head is resting on your lap as you drink tea, bright green eyes focused on the prodding against your skin, some kicks and punches from the inside.

“Mhm, I can feel it in my ribs”

“just one month more, your grace!”

“Never thought a child could be so similar to only one of their parents” Raiden watches the baby from his crib, a small wood cot that Candace sent as a gift from Aaru village.

“Well, to a certain extent I expected that” venti WAS originally a formless air spirit mimicking his friend's form, at first you didn't even think he would be able to reproduce, but here we are and hubris is your biggest sin.

“♪~~♪~” spirit form venti sneaked inside the nursery by the slightly cracked space between the window and the window frame, barely smaller than your pinky finger but just enough for him to slip inside.

A good thing of simply being a bard in his nation was the freedom he enjoys, he is known for his songs and how good they are so it isn't strange when you have him around your house or in your serenitea pot, the pretext that you enjoy music under the shadow of your garden and that your little clone gets lulled to sleep quickly by his soft tunes. Even then it would be strange for him to be around so often so sometimes he just settles for mixing between his son's plushies and watching him play around for a while, after all it isn't like he has anything better to do.

“!!” Swiftly he gets caught by his son's hand and thrown up and down like a doll. This wasn't as smart as he thought.

“Hello, baby” Venti babytalks the the 1 year old seated on the floor playing with stacking blocks when he sees him he smiles. As much as Venti loved the image he couldn't help but be slightly scared as when he opened his eyes they were now his exact same colour.

“Oh, sh-” next blink his eyes were your color, the sane he was born with “how about we make this our little secret we never talk about ever again?”

“Their condition isn't as dire as you are making it seem it's just-” Zhongli tries to calm down Raiden, who visited Liyue under the pretext of cultural exchange.

“It isn't dire? They almost passed out during a leisurely stroll”

“At most they might have gotten low blood pressure”

Baizhu lets your arm go to hush them a bit “they aren't sick, just pregnant and not eating enough iron. May I continue the check-up or do you wish to wait outside?”

“as I insisted, Raiden, their grace isn't ill, they are just pregnant, which falls under no criteria of sickness”

“I meant to tell this to everyone next month but I guess Raiden gets to be the second to know!”

“For one to be impertinent enough to dare bed their grace” Raiden snarls under her teacup, a frown on her lips.

“I must guess their couple must be Ill mannered and uncivil” the tsaritsa follows her idea, the rest of the archon were asked to visit Liyue sooner than arranged to receive an important and very unexpected news, even if they didn't wish to show you directly their discontent between them it was fair enough.

“Don't you seem too calm, Morax?”

“Not at all, I'm burning with hatred” he crosses his legs but makes the point of hitting his knee against the table “I'm so angry I can't even control my moves”

“…”

“i will be prescribing you with a herbal tea to ease the birth process, when you come out Qiqi should have them neatly portioned in the daily brew” Baizhu turns around to give Qiqi the list of flowers and roots and how much of each to put in little silk satchel. As he turns around to follow the examination he sees you close to the flowerpot on the desk and your cheek lightly swollen. A deep sigh leaves hus disappointed face, simply pointing to the pot “please, spit” and you do so, a rock falling back to the dirt. Even then Baizhu still looks disappointed.

“Didn't you tell me to eat more iron?”

“Not from dirt, my grace…”

“Then is iron ore fair game?”

“No… just simply no”

“He is a chunky baby” furina prods at your son's chubby cheek, before the time of delivery the doctors told you to expect twins but unexpectedly enough he was just a big baby around 4kg or 8.8lbs and he keeps growing as times goes.

“As heavy as a bag of stones!”

Lei headbutts your leg, his small hands scratching his scalp “please don't tell me you got lice, I told you to be careful” you settle your cup down on the table as you excuse yourself with cloud retainer, who visited to give you advice at childrearing.

“But I wasn't close to anyone with lice” quickly, your hands start segmenting his scalp looking for lice or eggs but there was nothing behind his ears or on his nape, but when you go higher towards his forehead you find two protrusions that made Lei push your hand away when touched.

“Ah? That does remind me back when Morax ripped his horn off during a fight, tte skin closed and we were so worried it wouldn't grown back, luckily a few months after a new one punctured the skin, even if he was so cranky like a child that season”

“And here I thought because he wasn't born with them he wouldn't get them”

“To suppress such minimal features shouldn't be too much work, even if this one thinks the child would prefer not to”

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #genshin x reader #self aware genshin impact #genshin sagau #genshin venti #venti x reader #venti genshin impact #venti x y/n #venti x you #sagau zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli #zhongli x you #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #sagau venti

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glitterjay · 2 months

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— staring contest

⠀⭒ paring heeseung x afab!reader. friends to lovers(?, makeout, pet names, drabble, mention of alcohol(?, short, semi suggestive content under the cut (minors DNI)

parties like this were often in this side of town. big houses, loud music, it was what you and your friends called the rich kids neighborhood as kids. and here you were now, walking into one of those big houses for a party you were invited.

you had met jake in one of your classes and you had both hit it off instantly. it would be too fast to call him your best friend, but he was definitely making his way up to that title.

you heard about this big party invitation going around, to which jake gladly filled you in. it was lee heeseung's party. ironically, he and jake were really good friends, which made the latter earn a plus one to the invitation he had received.

jake had told you before that heeseung limits a lot who he hangs out with, which just makes him even more popular for his "mysterious" reputation. you weren't going to lie, he was handsome, but you wouldn't try to get to know him if he didn't want to.

once you both made it into the house, jake grabbed your hand to lead you to his group of friends (which included the host of such party) who seemed to already be playing around with each other. "damn jake, i didn't know you had a girlfriend" one of the boys teased.

"she's not my girlfriend, jay. but at least i have a pretty girl to accompany me." the comments made you blush furiously, coughing as if that would make the redness leave your face. "we'll see about that" a voice called. it was the only face you could put a name to besides jake. it was heeseung.

"you're just in time, yun. we were just about to play some games."

it had been 3 hours since you arrived at the party. cans of beers flooded the table where you guys had originally started playing beer pong. "i know! why don't we have a staring contest?" the one who you had learned was named sunghoon suggested.

"i think thats a great idea!" jay exclaimed. "jake can hardly look at anything without giggling anymore, this should be easy." as the other two kept pestering jake for his clumsy and drunk behavior, you had felt someone else starting the staring contest.

heeseung's eyes were locked on you. it was as if a lion had just seen the perfect pray. he looked hot. you turned around nervously, trying to find the one who brought you here in the first place.

"jake is long gone. probably playing around with hoon and jay." he said.

your body tensed a little after hearing his voice. it was much deeper and heavier for some reason. "yeah, i guess you're right." you could see heeseung eyeing you up and down, licking his lips. it made you feel insecure for a moment, until you realized how close he had gotten. "i could kiss you right now."

"so do it." you said, feeling bold. heeseung didnt think twice, rapdily grabbing your face and slamming his lips into yours. it was quick at first, but then it turned more romantic. your hands rested on his broad shoulders while his held your face steady.

"your pretty dress kept calling me all night. it wants me to take it off."

#— ✿ c's work!#kpop #hard hours #enhypen #enhypen smut #kpop smut #enhypen hard hours #engene #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung

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woneuntonzz · 2 months

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for the first time ˎˊ˗

📞 ; “It's not the piano we share the love for. It's the music, isn't it?”

𖹭 : childhood lover!anton x afab!reader

💭 It's just like seeing her for the first time again...

⤷ contains: fluff, pining, childhood lovers trope 🙈, humor (if

you squint ig??)

⤷ wc: 8k :3 (not proofread :0)

⤷ a songfic, inspired by:

-ˋˏ under the cut .ᐟ ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Not many wonder about what the world was like when the sky’s silent and pure black. It’s all at the top of our heads —the world’s asleep, at least, the part that’s bathing in darkness and the moonlight. But Anton wondered, he wondered what kind of dreams people slept with, what his tired uncle snores about at night.

He remembered being sat on the garage floor with his uncle who wore wounds and dark purple bruises all over his arms. A mechanic at work, and a magician at home. Anton was fascinated with how he could fix everything, everything but his aching heart.

Anton saw the way his uncle looked at the woman that lived across from their house. His uncle became a frequent visitor when their family moved to that neighborhood, and he thought it was because his uncle was just so fond of him. And while that’s a definite truth, he figured it must be because of that woman.

“Do you have a crush on her?” the innocent question fell off of Anton’s lips as he watched his uncle rummage through a box of equipment to give his dad’s car a fix.

“No.” his uncle laughed, and the poor boy wouldn’t be able to sense the hints of frailty in his tone. “How about you? I see you. You’re all eyes for their youngest.”

The youngest child of the family that lived across. Anton had always wanted to approach, but he would get startled the moment that pair of glittery eyes got to him. It made him quake in his heart, and every passing second he’d be feeling for his hair, to feel if it had jumped around making him look so foolish —no, not in front of you.

“She’s really pretty.” uttered through a grin, he starts fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I bet she’s really nice too, like you. You should ask her to be your friend.” his uncle would keep his head under the hood of the car, still meddling with its insides. “Her mom is nice.”

Anton raised his brows as curiosity washed his face. “Is the woman her mom?” and to that his uncle could only nod, and along with his ashed face and wounds and dark purple bruises he wore a bittersweet smile. Anton had seen that smile so often that he thought it was just how he is.

It was at your eighth birthday party when Anton noticed how different his uncle smiled around your mother. And Anton would smile the same way when he would so shyly blurt out, “Happy birthday Y/n.” he felt his heart taking leaps that there were no stops in between his words, just flat but still all over the place. You served him a slice of your coral pink cake. But he could already taste the sugar from your smile alone.

He was forced in there. He would say forced because he had hinted frustration with the way he had dropped his back against the chair at dinner, but truly he was only anxious of meeting you, greeting you, seeing the silk ropes of your hair catching the harsh rays of the sun up close rather than from the window of his living room. He’d tell his uncle, but he was assured that it would all be fine, even if he himself was anxious to be accompanying his nephew to the birthday party being hosted by his greatest love.

Anton watched the adults from a distance, overlooking the inkling pining from his uncle’s actions. His uncle who had refused to see women because of work, not caring if people suspected him of not being into women at all. He valued his heart, yet had never taken care of it. It was not clear to Anton the words said that had left his uncle to lose the whim in him that night. Though, he was sure of one thing. He had got himself a friend.

He found out his friend played the piano, that’s why she had such pretty hands, and had as much passion as he did. He played the piano too. After he arrived from school in the afternoon, he got himself in more comfortable clothes, then he’d be shoving chicken, rice and some seasoned veggies in his mouth. He considered himself careful for not being scolded despite being in a rush. After that he started to walk to the door. It would take him twenty-seven steps. One. To open his door the same time you would. Two. He started to think about what to say. Six. And what not to say. Fourteen. He felt like his pulse was at the same rhythm as his steps. Twenty-seven. He finally opens the door.

He must’ve had godly intuition, or maybe it was fate doing its work. You both surprised each other, doors swiping open being met with the distant sight of each other. The distance was vast, but he could see such amazing and beautiful pictures in your eyes. Now he was about to take fifteen steps to you. He took notice of the way your hair waved back even if it wasn’t a windy day. And it was because you ran to him, your avidness showing through the grin you carried to him.

“Hi Anton!” he had never heard a voice so lively. Somehow it made him feel like he could do anything at that moment, free.

“Hello, Y/n.” his lips were pressed together as his voice started to falter.

He wanted to beat himself up for sounding so enfeebled and it was so not cool. But you giggled at his dainty utterance, and it was like having another slice of that coral pink cake, so sweet.

“How was school?” you had just gone from school too. You were attending a different school, but yours and his still held the same schedule it seems.

“It was okay.” he couldn’t admit that he felt like crying when he was taunted for being too quiet.

“Are you sure?” you followed the steps of your mother, to ask if they were sure if you weren’t so sure yourself.

He shrugs, and you could hear the bottom of his shoes grinding against the stray leaves on the ground from the old oak tree by your house. “I think the kids at school don’t like me.” for a second he thought he had said something wrong with the way your brows knitted from what he said, and so he’d speak again, “But maybe it’s just me. They were joking I think.”

“Well it’s a ridiculous joke. You’re literally so nice. You’re the nicest boy I know.” it was the facts speaking, considering every other boy in your life seemed to fall dumb with throwing balls around and sipping unpalatable liquid while watching other people throwing balls around.

Being the nicest boy in your life would be the bourne of Anton’s living moments for as long as he could remember. He owes you for all the times you’ve given him a smile as bright as day, and when you’d let him run his fingers through the silk of your hair, and when you’d talk to him about whatever came to mind, no matter how arbitrary or unusual. He felt like he was in debt because of how much he’s heard your dear voice. And how he missed it when dusk caught up to your ventures. He wanted to give you the world just for existing.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

You laughed when you heard Anton huff about how typical this essay topic was. You were now thirteen. Also in the same middle school. You stuck by each other like an ant with a pint of sugar. It’s been five years, and he was still the nicest boy you know. You two were the best of friends. Inseparable most times. People believed it would be impossible to keep the two of you out of each other’s wonders and giggles. Every means of socializing would be your world colliding with his. There was no other pair of eyes, or lips, or an angelic voice he looked for within the trifling crowds of students in your class or anywhere else. In his world there was only yours.

“I’ve heard this question so many times. Now I’m not even sure what to answer.” his hands rested on the paper he had laid out, but his eyes were attached to your eyes like he was looking for something in them —which if he were, he would’ve been looking all day.

“How about a swimmer? don’t you want to be that? or a pianist?” his eyes followed the movements of your eyelids that opened a bit more for his reply.

“Well, I guess I could get an athletic scholarship.” the truth was he was too caught up with how comfortably your eyes kept a lock on his. He wasn’t able to actually ponder what he truly wanted. “You?”

He was eager to hear from you. He knew in that beautiful soul of yours you bear such amazing dreams. “Maybe a musician. I love music.”

“I do too.” it was a spur of the moment thing —he mulled his lips, his eyes fluttering down to your coral pink lips. He thought it must be as sweet as that coral pink icing. “I love you too.”

Your eyes would be as wide as the gap that separated the two of you, not exactly broad, but not close enough. “Oh, then, I love you too, Ton.” you had made it out to be as him declaring how much he appreciates you for being his best friend. Because what else could it be?

You’d find out soon enough, you were already fifteen. Fifteen and still oblivious of each other’s affection. Your friends could tell with just a single glance. Even when silence was overbearing, the two of you would dwell deep in each other’s eyes. Now that you’re older —and a lot closer— he’s been a lot more expressive. And you were too, however it would only be for him. His arms were always around you. Wrapped around your shoulders, and if lost in the moment, around your waist. He thought you never noticed how careful and gentle his touch was. You did, all of it. It would kind of sting too. He’d leave an imprint of his zeal on your skin, even if sometimes not bear, it would burn, but in a good way. It would sting the moment it’s taken away from you. The longing, it was something you weren’t so sure how you’d act on.

At sixteen, he was fully focused on his cello. He had given up the piano for it. You supported him throughout everything, but his dubiety would not allow for him to get a good night’s sleep. He thought of what you could’ve felt when he said he wanted to play the cello and not the piano. It was because the piano was something you both loved but you’d affirm to him, “It’s not the piano we share the love for. It’s the music, isn’t it?” he felt foolish about the whole ordeal. Still, you thought it was sweet of him for being so broody.

He took a lot of classes for the cello while you were out practicing for your solos. And soon he’d be practicing for recitals too. It kept you apart, but you knew you’d both be doing something you love. A breath of fresh air if you will. That air would become too hard to inhale eventually. You waited for Anton, just right outside where he and his band practiced. There was a small crack where you could see that he had made a new friend. You knew that friend, she was popular amongst boys. Though, you heard that she was not in for fooling around, it wouldn’t stop you from driving your sanity close to the fear of losing Anton. She’s a dream. Anton loved to talk about dreams, dreams for the future, dreams when you're asleep, even ones when you’re awake. You wondered, was his dream now standing in front of you carrying such luscious locks and sanguine eyes with the stature of a runway model? she held a bow too, which could only mean one thing. She too played the cello. Anton talked about how she taught him this and that, probably about playing the cello in more efficient ways. Either way, you couldn’t remember. Your mind trailed off to the thought that he might start to enjoy practice more than spending time with you.

Your thoughts had led you back to the music room, angry notes flying off the piano as you let your heart lead your fingers. You meant to play a little softer, as to not draw anyone into the room. You failed in doing so. The piano’s song echoed throughout the room, but you had no time to care if it was going through the walls. Lost in song, you weren’t able to catch the sound of the door’s hinges moving along at the pace of your head that tilted with the rhythm of which you played. After laying out the last note, another would follow, and it sounds, “Are you okay, sweet?”

Anton heard the aggressive play even being fifteen steps away from the music room. After those fifteen steps, there you were, sitting on the bench as your fingers worked the music. He had to pinch himself to assure he wasn’t dreaming. You looked like you had just gone down from the heavens. But he saw your nerves seemingly wanting to pop out and the way your brows were knitted too. Before he approached, he was already thinking of reasons. It could’ve been your music teacher putting you through rough practice. Or maybe it was him. He was thinking of everything he had said and done for the past week, the past month even. Then he decides he’d walk up to you towards the end of the song you played.

“I’m fine.” but you ended up closing the piano a little too hard, causing the keys to play by themselves from under. You immediately looked up at Anton, and like what you’d expect, his face reflected his doubt. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot in my mind.”

Your body almost fell limp when you felt the warmth you’ve been longing for the three painfully slow days of continuous practice without seeing him. His arms snaked around you, just above your chest. He rests his chin on your head. “What is it, sweet? Tell me.”

He felt your head move as you sighed. His body responded by getting himself seated next to you, keeping one arm around you. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You eyed his gentle hand on you and kept it there when you uttered, “Do you think those kids back in your elementary school still don't like you?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, really.” your question was too random, but he’d let his hand slowly fall on your elbow, and the sensation clouded your mind.

“Anton, I wish I could’ve just told you then.” you felt his grasp grow tighter. He pulled himself closer to you. His breath staggered seeing the thin layer of sea on your eyes.

“Told me what?” he could almost feel your exhaustion, even if your hands were cold when he held them.

You chuckled, but it was so broken that it would only lead to his grasp closing even more. “So what if they didn’t like you? screw those kids. I like you. I have for the longest time, Anton.” you sniffled to fight the waters. “And not as a friend, but more.”

The warmth he had given you all those times you’d feel him were all coming back to him. It was so great. The feeling wasn’t overwhelming. It was utter relief. But it told him two things. One, you’ve both been in love ever since his family moved into that neighborhood. And two, you were both oblivious of your flourishing love. He had thought of the second, that time he told you he loves you —seemingly out of nowhere. Once realizing what he had just said, he thought he had dug his own grave, but you would innocently tell him you loved him too. That moment was a slap to his face. He thought all he’ll ever be to you is a best friend.

The winds of change blew stronger in that room. “Y/n, when I said I love you, I meant it. Then, I was only hoping you saw me the same way.” his fingers drew circles on your skin. You were both red and hot by then, still he was able to take jest of the situation. “This isn’t a prank, is it?”

You laughed, pushing yourself into his neck. It was the heat of your air that had pushed him to hold your chin up, and for the first time your lips would meet. It lasted for three seconds —not that you could count— and he’d hover over your lips for a while. And he’d smile, pressing his forehead against yours. He had to swiftly lick on his lips to confirm a theory. He was stunned to taste your strawberry chapstick. Sweet, you truly were.

“Anton?” only he could hear it with how miniscule your voice was, and it was just right for he was yet to move from where he halted. He chuckles. You laughed. Soon you had your face buried within the crook of his neck.

You two left the music room as you would when you’re together. Significantly close in distance. The only difference would be your entwined hands. You both walked past your friends’ coos in the hallway wearing sheepish grins. It felt as if you were both children again, running towards the exit whilst you held onto each other tightly —just to be sure the other won’t get lost as you sped out into the outside world. Your conjoined ecstasy was heard by the array of students that passed by. If laughter was medicine, you’d both be dead from overdosing. He was careful to lead you out of the public space. He could feel his phone buzzing in his pants since it was practice afternoon for his swimming team. You were aware of their schedule, but he’d keep your mind off of it, ultimately lulling you with a kiss.

It had only taken a giggle for you to be laying on the grass of your backyard. The constellations drew the love emanating from your huddled bodies. He traced it with his eyes. When he looked down, he was tracing your features like he did with the stars. Even with the bed of stars in the sky, and the moon, you still held a shine brighter than all of them combined. He gazed on the bead of light on the tip of your nose. And then everywhere else it scattered. With his eyes he followed the outline of your lips, and the curve of your chin. Then he needed to feel. His palm, soft and gentle, would find its rest on your cheek. You’ve been watching his eyes with your own the whole time, watching for where they trailed.

“Wouldn’t you be in trouble for skipping training?” your voice was mellow. It was the softest and prettiest melody he’s ever heard. His fingers glide down from your cheek to your jaw.

“I don’t think I want to be a swimmer.” he says, caressing your skin whilst he roams your visage with his eyes once more.

“Then what do you want to be, Ton?” his other hand went on top of your head. He moves the stray strands, being delicate with your kind locks.

“I want to be with you.” the tone is low, a lot deeper than when you were thirteen. Baritone and painstaking. Yet it was pure velvet in your ears.

You tittered at his reply. It was a means of covering your flushed face. You moved a little closer and nuzzled your face against his clothed chest. “I do too.” you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. He heard it, and he grew nervous from you feeling the pounding in his chest because of the proximity. “Seriously now, what do you dream of for the future?” you moved from his chest to look up at him.

“I was being serious.” he propped his head up as he chuckled. Now he hovered slightly above you, elbow resting near the side of your head. He inhales the September breeze as he takes in all of you. “Though I am considering just being a musician. I might have an opportunity in line to be able to do that. To make music.”

You lie with lax on the grass bedding. You noticed that only one side of his face was shone on by twilight. You might have been staring for too long, because then he’d let his lips fall on your forehead, and then down to your lips. Your eyes glittered with the reflection of the stars in them. But he figured, it might be just the image they held. There was no need for stars, or moons, or the sun for you to light up his world. Later that night, his uncle had to come in and retrieve him. His uncle with wounds and dark purple bruises, all of which were now faded. Change had played after your birthday party. Even if it didn’t seem like it, the change was all for the better —even for Anton’s uncle. That night after your birthday party, he admits to his feelings. And your mom granted him closure. It was better than nothing anyways.

The night Anton was fetched from the backyard of your home —the same place where you held your eighth birthday— his uncle finally told him the tragic tale of his greatest love. Once upon a time, his uncle and your mother were like you and him, but sadly fate had worked against them. He had gone away for work. The distance, the time, overwhelmed their love. It plummets quickly after a long time of losing contact. Then your mother had you. Anton’s uncle would assure him that there was beauty in it all, and it was you. It was insinuated that both you and Anton were brought down to earth from the heavens to be with each other. Still, fear proved to be man’s greatest enemy.

With only a very few inches left to seventeen, he took strides. It was hard to keep up even with your hands enclosed with his. You took steps that were just right. But right beside you was him leaping forward to the inevitable. He had you in his arms when he contemplated. It was nothing to contemplate about, he had to tell you. But he feared that his farewell would be the last. What if history repeats itself? what if he leaves today and tomorrow you would no longer love him? he was already grieving over what he could only foresee in his nightmares. Even if his body was as warm as spring, he was cold. You could feel it.

“What’s wrong Ton?” he felt guilt dawning down on him for causing that much worry to you.

“I just have a lot in my mind.” like deja vu, he’d jump slightly from where he sat. He came back to that day in the music room. You played valse sentimentale, he remembered being so lovestruck with how perfect you played, even after finding out it was of great emotion from your fear of losing him. He couldn’t even remember that girl’s name. “I’m moving back to Korea.”

“You passed the audition?” you were genuinely happy for him. But then again, you had expected it. You never doubted his abilities. He is still his harshest critic. “That’s great! you’d have a chance at making music, like you always dreamed of.”

But at night when he dreamed, he saw paradise. He saw you. He had brought those dreams under the light of day. He thought about it whilst he meddled with his cello. He thought about it while he studied. He had even smiled so foolishly in the shower imagining it occurring in real life. That dream he had was under the moonlight. Maybe it was because of that night in your backyard, but in his dream you weren’t on grass. You were at some place small. It wasn’t exactly cramped per say, but it wasn’t of great space either. It was nothing important at first. He was more focused with the light that bounced off the skin on your face. When he dreamed of it again, it fed his fears. You were all tears in this dream. He wondered if he was seeing the future. There were no words spoken. It made it hard for him to decipher what that dream meant. It kept him awake for more hours than he should've. He could only hope it wasn’t a foreshadowing of a fallout.

At the departure area of the airport is where you held him with all the vigor you had left in you. You were both seventeen already. Now he was to be flown to his dreams, though it would not be the dreams he had of you. The tears had already been drained from both of you days prior, now he could only savor the remainder of his thirty-minute wait with you.

“Take care, Ton.” you utter against his temple so softly as your fingers brushed his hair. “I know they’ll take good care of you there too.”

“I wish I could be with you.” he had his eyes closed, head lying on your shoulder. He had his whole weight on you, but it was very much the opposite of a heavy burden. “You could take care of me better than anyone.”

You lightly pushed his shoulder that hung in the open whilst giggling. And he smiled against the scent of your cologne. The smell was sweet. It could’ve been because he was so convinced sweet is just what you are. But even so, he drowned in it. The thirty minutes was up, and he was headed for the sky. With exchanged I love yous and a lengthy farewell, he was off. He was in no mood for the plane movies. He had the memories he’s made with you that he kept on rewind in his head as he flew. He had dozed off, soon he was dreaming again. He woke up from it. He saw you in a dress, like the one you liked to wear when you were kids. Blue with the bows. Missing you was dreadful, but maybe, just maybe, landing would be a little nicer. Then it would be a little easier for his longing to subside.

He was training all over again. It was none like swimming, but there were even more restrictions. Have a consistent diet. Never miss practice. Monthly evaluations are held every month’s end, and do not miss it. No sneaking out, and most importantly, no dating. But there was no rule stating he couldn’t miss you, there was no rule that stated he should break up with you. All he had to do was bear a secret. It was easier said than done, but he made it work. He had too. Only seeing and hearing you through his screen was incomparable to having you in real life. If he had a superpower, it would be being able to teleport. He wanted to so badly when he had called you as you studied for your midterms. You listened to his tales of training, how his fellow trainees were and all. You were being so good to him, he just wanted to have his arms around you again. To console you from the thousand words you read through while still having ears open for him. You were now eighteen. It’s been a year. Growing tired of this setting was not inside both of you. You would both treat it like the new normal now, but it was anything to keep your boat stable.

“I miss you so much. I want to go home. But they say I can’t. Not yet.” he hugged himself like how he saw you with yourself. You had your own arms around your body, trying to make it up as his. But it wasn’t the same. Painful is all it was, but he was there right in front of you. Not quite for being on the screen of your laptop, but he was there.

“I miss you too.” was all you could say. You hoped he could sense your yearning through what he could see from his own screen.

It’s his smile that told you he yearns for you just as much, if not more. “I’ll visit you as soon as I can.” he wanted to see your face taking in the light of your surroundings again. He wanted to feel your gentle skin and your silk hair again. Its ghost lingered on his fingers that held onto his sides. “I love you, sweet.”

“I love you too, Ton.” you wondered if he could see it. Your eyes brimmed with water, but you were yet to let it fall. And you wouldn’t be able to when his smile grew wider. Your lips curved, an imitation of his.

You were off to college when he told you he was up for debut. Not exactly where his dreams lie, but it was the closest he could get. An idol. He fits the job well you thought. You knew people would love him, though not as much as you did. You’d be his number one fan, always. It was when you had fixed your dorm room when he called you, gushing about the guys he was going to debut with, all while he tried to scan around where you were. It’s where he could’ve been too. Now it’s quite an impossibility.

“I bet you’re even more handsome than all six of them combined.” you furrowed your brows in jest, determined to have him keep him show you his underlying confidence.

“You’re reaching.” you’d both laugh as his obviously quoted response. “But thank you. You must be telling the truth. You always stare at me.”

You guffawed even if he was stating facts. “Yeah, but you must’ve known by then that I was only imitating you. You’ve had your eyes on me, since like, what? since we were children right?”

He hummed an approval to your question. Art imitates life. You were the most beautiful painting, the only worthwhile movie, and the most pleasant song. You were all of those that depicted the love he had for life. His own and yours. “You’re so beautiful and sweet. I want to see you so bad.”

You’ve always wondered why he called you sweet, my sweet, he’d often say referring to you, or to call for you. But his words and the way his eyes worked around you, the way the ends of his lips rose for you, it was telling. It told you everything there is to know. You thought maybe it was his influence that had driven you to study psychology. He also couldn’t believe what he was hearing when you told him about your major. It was again, something he wasn’t able to foresee before. If him being an idol seemed like a stretch, you studying psychology would’ve been a reckless swing that went thirty miles off your expectations. You thought psychology was intriguing. Though you really didn’t need the books to understand Anton, you wanted to study the nature of man. Would it be possible that there’s anyone in this world as precious as he could be?

Other than that, you wanted to understand dreams. Dreams vary for everyone, and there are dreams people share, dreams that carry definitions that are listed in websites and reiterated in YouTube videos or in mini series of shorter videos on TikTok. You wanted to have a deeper understanding of how it worked. Where sometimes it’s sheer symbolism, and other times it’s a vision of the future. The people that you studied with were so different yet held much of the same curiosity as you. You were all aware that it was nothing fantastical. It was a bearing of life. And it was what made it beautiful. You found friends in them. You would always mention a lover that had ventured off to pursue his dreams. But you weren’t allowed to say his name, or what he did. All to avoid any mishaps in the future. It was something Anton would thank you for, even though he wished both you and him could show off each other like you did with the superficial belongings you wore. But it wouldn’t be superficial for him, it would be a yell to the world that you were for him just as he was for you.

Your dreams were always so specific. One night you had dreamed of the skylight at the airport. A year later you saw the same view. Another pivotal moment was from your childhood. You had dreamt of a boy, the one that lived from across your house. He ate cake with you on the patio. Days later you sat next to him as dusk approached, munching on what was left of your birthday cake. Last night you had a dream. It was somewhere you couldn’t recognize. It was long after the day had fallen and the sky drew black. Anton was there, and he cried. He held your hand so closely to his chest too. He said something, but it came out blurry. When you tried to speak for yourself, you woke up. Taking another breath, dewdrops escaped your eyes. It was one that led you to exert more effort on your studies. To understand what that dream meant. Because if it were the future talking to you, it could be something very dear or it could be the end of something beautiful.

Your doubts would get the better of you. Your calls would mostly be just staring into the light of your screens, and the talk couldn’t be anymore typical. He grew more and more insecure by the day, what if his fears were being answered? but it should not be be that way, he could still talk to you every night and whenever he could. Things shouldn’t end like how it did for his uncle. A phonecall and a cold evening was all it took for you to realize how much your thoughts ate both of you up.

“I think I can go home for my birthday.” it was an unsure statement, but he sounded firm. He was turning nineteen, and close to debuting too. And before giving his life away to stardom, he wished to spend all time possible with you.

The look in your eyes made his heart shrink, and it almost came crashing down when you told him, “You should spend your birthday with your dad, your family. I’m gonna be very busy, Ton.” you voice was as gloomy as the view outside his window. “It’s study season, but I’ll keep contact with you.” your gloom washed over him, but still he was thankful that you didn’t say you would just try, but you will.

He wouldn’t reply but, but instead you’d see him just staring. He did it the way he always would with you. Back when you were still close enough to see even the smallest cracks of your faces.

“I have something for you too. To which adress Ton?” when you lift your head up from your paper, you were met with the reflection of his screen in his glossed eyes. “Ton?”

“Dorms.” it was one word, and you still heard the crack in his voice.

“Anton, I really wish I could see you too. But It would just be this time. After this you can see me whenever you’re available.” he felt your hands holding his cold ones. He felt warmth that wasn’t there. “I love you, so, so much.”

“I love you more.” he did truly. And he was dying to prove it to you, and to the world.

It was a busy week, for you and for him. He was subjected to hours of practice, and he used it to distract himself from the dread. He was deprived greatly of your loving. But he knew you struggled too. He knew college didn’t treat you fairly. That’s why you were always on late-night calls. Even if you fell asleep he’d stay. For a while he’s looking over you. And after a few blinks he’s off to dreamland. His last dream kept repeating, over and over again. He tried his best to not let it show through his speech and his face. His face that everyone paid him great attention for. It was hard, painful even. His eyes, instead of tracing the lines of your lips, were tracing the lines of the practice room mirrors.

At nineteen, he woke up. He got up from the left side of his bed, where there was less space. His foot hit one end of his bedside table. He winced, but it was not one for grumbles. He walked to the bathroom, then he brushed his teeth. He had to look again because he thought his toothbrush changed colors. It did, and it was Sungchan’s. He brushed his teeth again, this time minding the colors whilst he thought of how he would explain the whole incident —or if he should even explain at all. He got behind the shower curtains just for a quick wash. After that he’d go back to his room to slip in some practice clothes. Once his loose hoodie had gone over his head, his eyes stumbled upon the calendar. It was his birthday. Almost forgot. He was off to practice, not minding the date. It was just like any other day, or birthday for that matter. Even then it seemed like nobody even knew it was his birthday. So he figured there was no point to dither.

He was nineteen when he was given heavy scolding for not being precise with his dancing. It wasn’t the first time, but this has been the worst he’s ever gotten. Everyone was not aware of the heavy load he’s been carrying in his heart. Their dance teacher’s yell would make it even heavier. The six others were supposed to come out with a cake with three candles, and balloons that read ‘19’. After a few times of brushing back his hair with his fingers and fighting back the tears. And when the first drop seeped out, he stood up from the floor and with staggered steps, he got out of that place. He was off somewhere, where he had dreamt of.

He thought that place in his dreams was utter imagination. But it was real. Maybe he did see the future. But you weren’t there, on the balcony of his room. The balcony faced another building that shunned all others. All he could really do was look up. He ignored the countless notifications that came pouring out of his lockscreen. It got too much that he’d silent his phone, turning on the do-not-disturb function. Before he could lock his phone though, he’d stare at his wallpaper. It was a photo of you, a very discreet one at that. It showed only a small portion of your face. Your wispy lashes and the curvature of your nose. And your eyes. His reflection when he took the photo was caught in it. And he was smiling, the way he should’ve been for his birthday. But now all he could think about was his uncle’s story. Despite the assurances that pointed to all directions that led him to you, he felt as if one day he’d be forcing himself to forget. But he could never forget you. Not even by great force. A ringing would dawn in his head. It took another drop of salt before he realized that the ringing was from the doorbell of their complex.

It was not his first time answering the door. And he counted, from his room to there, it took sixteen steps. It always made him reminisce about that day in the music room. How you thought he’d be interested in anyone else that was not you. He had no space in his heart for any more interests because it’s filled with you and the music you both grew up loving —but never as much as you grew to love each other. He’d count his first step out of his room as one. He wondered if it would be his angered manager or his worried groupmates that would come through the door. Two. He was already wary of the consequences. Six. His birthday is long gone now, all he could think about was how he was going to explain himself. Twelve. Or maybe if he should call you late at night. Fourteen. He hoped once he’s dialed you, it won’t go straight to your inbox. Fifteen. He remembered you said you would send him a gift. Maybe, just maybe, it’s your gift waiting for him behind that muted door. Sixteen. The door opens slowly. He expects a box, small, big, anything. Or maybe he’d a screeching yell, or stressed apologies.

When he’d the door was barely a peek and wide open, he saw blue. Blue, but somehow bright and lively. A pair of glittery eyes. And lips of his favorite color —coral pink. A hug is what he’d receive, and his eyes would continue to dispense his sorrows. He held you, like it was the first time all over again. And he led you to his room’s balcony, while still holding a box. He’d looked at you, like it was the first time. It felt like back when your houses faced each other. When he followed the same routine religiously, every single day, just so he could open that door the same time you would yours. He was happy that he’s able to let his eyes draw along your features. At the same time he was terrified. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

Tears swelled from his eyes. You tried your best to keep your jubilance, but your grin falters when you catch a glimpse of his dreaded countenance. “It’s not, Ton.”

You placed a hand on his cheek, and it was warm. He touched it with his own, and you’d flinch with how cold he was. He brought your hand from his cheek to his lips, leaving his fervor on your skin with a kiss. Suddenly you were brought to tears. The scene was all too familiar. An instance of deja vu.

“I’m not dreaming?” almost in a sob, he’d ask you. His eyes pierced through your psyche, not harshly, but like he begged. You pulled him close to you, and there after a wistful eternity, he felt your silken lips against his.

Forever is only possible in fiction, but he believed there was forever in you, and he sought for it in your essence. He felt like he was going crazy, and from chilling, you felt his body grow hotter as he lost himself in you.

With a gentle push, he pulled away. But almost in a whine, he utters, “Why?” he wanted to cry again when he heard that sugared giggle of yours.

“Calm down, Ton.” you reply, still tittering at him.

His hands cupped your face as he peppered it with kisses from your forehead to your chin. And he ends it with a kiss to your lips. “This is the best gift ever.” his breath crashed with yours, sending heatwaves to your rosy faces.

“Actually, your dad helped get here.” you kept your voice low, laying your head on his chest. “He was worried. Your group mates were messaging him too. They asked if you were home.” his eyes would dilate just enough as he hears for you. His fingers found their way through your hair. He’s never seen or felt anything like it before. “I don’t know if I should be saying this, but they meant to prank you. It’s a part of the surprise.” he heard him breathe a little louder.

“They yelled at me for a prank —to surprise me?” he stammered with his words. His mellow voice made you nuzzle closer to him. “The prank didn’t work.”

“Yeah. I know.” you pulled away from his embrace. You faced him once you were sat up. “You’re debuting soon.”

“If soon is September, then yeah.” his eyes grew larger, and he could see an image of the stars in your backyard. “It’s our anniversary.” you gave him a weak nod, the next second your eyes released a river. He hurriedly swiped his thumb over them, “I’ll try my best to be around. It’s a busy month.”

He was perplexed with how you laugh at yourself, replacing his hands with your own and wiping the tears away. “I thought we’re breaking up.” he made you yelp with how quick he got you enclosed in his arms again.

“No, no. I can keep a secret. You can too.” you felt the movement in his throat as he gulped. He was choking back tears. “No one’s breaking up. Not in this universe.”

He allowed for your tears to continue falling on his forearms, it was hot, but forgiving. “I dreamt about this very moment. I thought it meant something bad. Because in there you were crying like earlier, and I felt so bad…” he ends your sobs with another kiss.

“I did too.” he felt his fears creeping up behind him, but they would all go away when he met eyes with the girl he fell in love with through his living room window. “I dreamed about it every night, thought about it everyday. And I dreamed of a future where we’d share a cake on our own patio.”

His presence was like a meadow, so peaceful and warm, and comforting. His dream of eating cake with you like you had back then made you laugh louder than before, and he took it all in, making sure no other sounds drowned out his favorite song.

He still wondered about what lies beyond the darkness of night, how dreams choose their explorers and nightmares crawled for their victims. But now he understood where dreams lie with him. Sometimes what seemed like a nightmare waiting to happen might just be a glimpse of his sweetest dreams. That dream he had where he thought you’d be there to end it all with him, it had only driven him to finally grasp on what it meant to dream. It was what his heart truly wanted.

Maybe that dream was bound to come true. Because at nineteen, he received the biggest surprise of his life. And he ate a coral-pink cake with the girl that used to live from across his house. He believed it was foreshadowing, but still, he had it in him to make it come true.

≈

Dreams could be a symbol of some psychological conflict we’re having within ourselves, but on the night of March 21st, year 2023, I found out that it could be a vision of the future. Though it would be discreet, just enough for you to have it mistaken as a future barricade. I may be wrong, I could’ve been just lucky to have someone as passionate about dreams as I am —I got this passion from him anyways— but the best way to deal with the weight it forces upon us is to just let it play out. It could be the catalyst for the dreams you’re set to build. I dream of owning a home, with a wealthy meadow, with blue and pink butterflies. I want a patio where it would be a comfort to lie and stargaze, where it will be comfortable to eat too. Because my fiancé loves cake, but he loves me even more. (Y/s/n. To Live A Dream. 2039)

≈

End.

what if this is a true story tho very late bday post for anton my loveydoves <3

#riize #briize #riize x reader #riize au #riize fluff #riize fanfic #riize anton #anton lee #riize imagines #Spotify

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