#and starts breaking into his room to like. hang out
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Three’s Company
When Patrick visits his best friend at Stanford University, Art’s new fling finds herself stuck between two very attractive men.
9k (18+)
Warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected p in v, double penetration, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, they’re all pervs, and strong language.
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The room is stiflingly hot.
There is no air conditioning in her study/fuck buddy's dorm to keep up with the late April heat that has descended upon Stanford's campus so quickly. Three different fans are plugged into outlets around the cramped living space, yet it does little to keep her body cool enough to feel comfortable.
Sleeping with Art was an impulsive decision. The first time was merely weeks ago after he politely asked if she would share her notes from a class he was absent from. They exchanged numbers to organize the meeting, and she ended up talking to him for the better part of an hour in the dining hall. Although she did not recognize it as flirting—the oblivious little thing she is—he shyly commented on seeing her at one of her gymnastics competitions and refused to let her get dinner with her meal credits. Looking back, his intentions should have been obvious to her, yet she does not think badly of him over it. If anything, she likes how wanted he made her feel. He knew what he wanted and ensured that he got it.
They came back to his room to study—only to study, he claimed with his hands held up to proclaim his innocence—for their approaching final exams.
"Good," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning to walk in the direction of his dorm building. "Cause it's way too hot to be doing anything else."
They were both laughing as he set down his racquet bag to unlock the door. It was muffled through the wall, but Patrick heard it just fine from where he was perched on the foot of Art's bed with Tears for Fears playing on the unlabeled CD he dug through desk drawers to find. The sound of a distinctly feminine giggle made his mouth turn up at the corners in a smirk. This will be fun to tease his closest friend over until his cheeks flush pink and he has to hide his face in his shirt.
When the door swung open, the laughter died out as soon as they realized they weren't alone, but it was quickly replaced with wide smiles and warm greetings.
Patrick tried not to look her up and down so blatantly. Instead, he chuckled and said, "Art, you conveniently left out that you had a girlfriend on our last call."
To this, Art set down his bag and tackled him onto the bed, starting a minute-long wrestling match that only ended when they began to sweat from the heat and physical activity. It was then that Art remembered to have manners and introduced her. He scrambled to sit upright on the mattress and met her curious gaze.
"Y/N, this is Patrick. I'm sorry, I forgot what day he was coming."
She smiled.
"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." A pause, and then she turned her attention to Art. "Do you wanna study another time? I don't wanna intrude or anything."
Before Art could open his mouth to tell her to stay, Patrick aimed one of his charming grins at her, then said, "No, please intrude. I'll just hang out. You won't even know I'm here."
The last sentence caused a disbelieving scoff to leave Art’s lips.
As of right now, as she sits on the chair in front of the desk and the boys share the bed, they have gotten halfway through the study guide they meticulously constructed after one of the two classes they share, but it grew boring once an hour and a half passed. They typically end up getting distracted and make out by now, but with Patrick here, neither of them considers that an option. So, she suggests they take a half-hour break to sit, drink, and talk to allow their brains to decompress from the constant stimulation.
He already had a few beers inside the mini fridge beneath his desk, along with a hard seltzer for her seeing that she finds the taste of beer disgusting but quite enjoys being drunk with him. Also kept in the freezer section of the fridge is a pack of ice pops she bought a few days ago when the heat wave began. They prove to be very useful right now as the midday sun bakes the building alive despite the closed curtains and blowing fans.
The CD has moved onto Nine Inch Nails, and she remains quiet to hear it over the sound of the fans as she holds a red ice pop to the side of her neck to cool herself off. Sometime along the way, both of them had stripped down to their underwear after asking her if it was alright because it was so hot. Patrick joked that he was alright with her taking her clothes off too, which she laughed at while Art playfully shoved him over it. Yet now she isn't laughing. Her small exercise shorts are as forgiving as any item of clothing could be in these circumstances, but the long-sleeve shirt she wore because it was the only clean one left is sticking to her skin.
"So, how did you and Art meet?"
Her eyes open to find Patrick glancing back and forth between them.
"It's a boring story, actually," she says. "He asked if I took notes for a class he missed, and now he's stuck with me all the time."
"No, no, okay, maybe it was boring from her perspective, but I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for at least a week before then. I went to one of her competitions and recognized her from class," Art explains. "She won, which wasn't surprising at all."
Although she already knew this, this is the first time he has admitted to it out loud, and her stomach flutters at the idea of him becoming so enamored with her from one glance. The popsicle is sweet on her tastebuds when she raises it to her lips and sucks with her eyes looking between them both. As she expected, Patrick shifts a little in place and looks away for reasons not at all related to how she was looking at them while sucking her popsicle.
She chuckles.
"So, you were just interested in befriending me 'cause I win a lot?"
Her tone of voice is taunting, but they know it's all in good fun. Art is quick to play along, shrugging his shoulders to feign aloofness and taking a quick swig of his beer before responding. Their eye contact grows intense in the seconds before he speaks.
"Well, there were some other contributing factors."
"Mm," Patrick hums in agreement. "I've never seen you compete, but you are really hot, so Art's right about that."
This makes her pause for a second, her gaze shifting to find Art's to see if his friend crossed any lines, but he appears strangely calm about it. What she doesn't know is that he has never had any problem sharing, at least, not with Patrick. They shared a room in boarding school, jerked off together to the same girl, and shared the court together—what was his would always be Patrick's, and what was Patrick's would always be his.
"You're flirting with me right in front of him?"
Art interjects, "I'd be shocked if he didn't."
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's standing up from the bed to get another beer. The dorm room is small, so it only takes a few strides for him to meet her where she sits before the desk and kneels down to open the mini fridge. His left hand braces itself on one of her thighs while the right swings open the fridge door only to find there is no beer left. Rather than complain, he simply grabs one of her least favorite hard seltzer flavors and gives her thigh a firm squeeze before standing up.
The bed creaks beneath his weight when he sits back down on it.
He settles into a comfortable position with his back against the wall and legs spread, balancing the seltzer can on his bent knee. Patrick sits close to him, and she finds it difficult to peel her eyes off the pair of them in their current state of undress. Her gaze mostly lingers on Patrick seeing that she has already explored every inch of Art's lean body in the plentiful amount of times they've hooked up over the past few weeks. But, that being said, she cannot resist looking at Art either. Having two beautiful men laid out before her in their underwear is a treat she never expected to indulge in today. They each have the strong, masculine figures of athletes—showing mostly in their shoulders, biceps, abdomen, and thighs.
When Patrick notices her staring, she turns her gaze to the floor to avoid the embarrassment of being caught. If he did catch her, though, he doesn't call her out for it. Not yet, at least.
With one last bite of her popsicle, she stands from the desk chair to toss it into the small trash can beside his nightstand. It isn't until she lets it go that she realizes how close she now stands to the two of them. Only a foot or so from the bed, her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the proximity.
The way she sees it, she has two options. The first would be to retreat to the desk to let her long-sleeved shirt give her heatstroke while the men get to sit in front of the oscillating fans with their shirts off, or she can strip down to her undergarments and join them on the bed. Needless to say, she opts for the latter of the two.
Y/N lets out an exaggerated groan at the heat and fans herself with her hands for the sake of appearing somewhat innocent in what she's about to do, then reaches down for the hem of her shirt with a huff.
Art and Patrick can do nothing but watch with rapt attention side by side as she pulls the fabric up her torso and over her head. The shirt ends up falling to the floor beside her feet alongside their discarded t-shirts and pants. This leaves her in her most comfortable bra—which is Art's favorite since her nipples can be seen through the mesh material—and a pair of tiny spandex shorts.
Patrick's tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight of her—almost angelic in her beauty—and tries to burn the image into his mind to hold onto forever. Definitely going in the spank bank, he thinks to himself as his cock begins to harden in his boxers. Beside him, Art has been stunned to silence. Even though they've fucked like rabbits since the first time, he isn't sure if he'll ever get used to seeing her like this. Those shorts hug the delicate curve of her hips, as well as that lovely ass that has been sculpted from years of training as a gymnast, and all he can think of is how badly he wants to take them off.
They sit there, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open just enough for her to notice and suppress an arrogant smirk. But to allow herself to smirk would be to reveal her cards, and she doesn't want them to see this as anything other than her innocently trying to cool down. Truth be told, she hasn't thought this through. It's not as though she planned this as she was sitting at the desk. It's more of an impulsive, irresistible urge. And if they will tease her so blatantly with their half-naked bodies, she is entitled to do the same.
"You," she says, jutting her chin in Patrick's direction. "Scoot. I wanna sit in front of the fans too."
Underneath it all, she's thankful that she took the time to do her hair the way that makes her feel the most confident and put a little makeup on. Not that either of them is focused on her damned makeup. No, they're far too busy ogling her figure to notice anything north of her collarbones.
After a delayed second of staring, what she said seems to register within him and spark him into action. He's quick to scoot closer to the end of the bed if it means she'll be inhabiting the small space between them.
She offers a quiet, "Thank you," and crawls onto the bed, turning around and settling into place with her back against the wall. The cool air generated by the fans blows faintly against the front of her sweat-slick chest, and she can't help but shut her eyes and hum in appreciation of it.
With her eyes shut, Art and Patrick are both scrambling to quietly conceal their growing erections. If they don't, it'll be glaringly obvious when she opens her eyes and sees a tent in their underwear on either side of her. Although the life-long friends don't speak, there's an understanding formed between the two of them. Whatever she allows them to have of her tonight, if she allows anything, they'll share nicely. Patrick knows that if anything happens, he is to assume it is a one-time thing unless she or Art expresses a desire for an arrangement of some sort to be made.
Her eyes open again a few seconds later to find them staring at her.
Breaking the silence, she asks, turning her head left to right to address each of them, "Did your mothers never tell you it's rude to stare?"
Patrick doesn't miss a beat.
"Did you know it's rude to be a tease?"
The sound of Art sucking in a deep breath meets her ears, but she doesn't look away from Patrick. Their eyes are locked, and she can see the mischief present in his. It's almost as if he dares her to do something...like he knows that she wants him just as badly as he wants her. Part of her feels guilty, feeling like she should remain loyal to Art even though they aren't exclusive, but a much more dominant part of her desires it too much to resist the temptation.
"Patrick, don't pressure her. If she doesn't want to—"
Her head turning to look at him halts him in his tracks. The look she's giving him...
Much to his shock, she was a virgin when they met a few weeks ago. He questioned her relentlessly, claiming there was no way someone as beautiful, smart, and talented as her could've gone so long without doing it, but she held firm. It was the truth, he realized after she sheepishly relayed the story of how she made out with a basketball player on Halloween and wimped out before it could go further. That first night, she was a bashful, blushing little thing. He treated her with the tenderness and reverence she deserved, first making her come with his tongue and fingers before fucking her. It was so...intimate. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he made that first, breathtaking thrust into her. Just the thought of it was enough to get him hard the next day, but he knew not to expect anything after how shy she was the previous night. Little did he know, he awakened something within her, and from then on, she would be insatiable.
He almost got whiplash from how quickly she changed from a nervous, flushed-faced girl asking him, "Am I doing this right?" when she got on top to a cock-hungry temptress ready to jump onto him at any moment. Truth be told, he found it so fucking hot. To think that he was the catalyst for this behavior was beyond comprehension. Though Art did well enough in his dating life, Patrick was the one that the girls they liked gravitated toward when they were in school together. But she was his, and he thinks, even now, that he'll always have the satisfaction of having gotten to her first no matter what happens tonight.
Y/N shifts around on the mattress so that she's sitting on the side of the bed opposite the wall, facing them with her hands on her knees and legs tucked beneath her ass. Both boys perk up a little at this, and they watch every minute movement she makes and listen to every breath she breathes with unwavering focus.
She meets Art's gaze first before doing anything. Her brows raise in question, and, in answer, he gives her a slight nod. Those pretty, cherry-stained lips of hers curve into a smirk she doesn't even bother to hide in response to this.
"Have you ever fucked the same girl before?" she asks out of pure curiosity, her tone calm and even. Her hands leave her knees to grab one of their thighs each, slowly rubbing up and down to allow her fingertips to brush the edge of their boxers. "Two guys at the same time is a first for me..."
To say that they are in a state of shock would be a gross understatement. Surprisingly, their mouths are not hanging open, and they aren't drooling at the mere thought of what she's proposing.
Somehow, Patrick finds his voice and says, "No." A second of pause, then—"Is this for real? Like you're not just fucking with us?"
The silence that follows is ripe with tension. All that can be heard is the sound of voices passing in the hallway outside of the dorm room and fans blowing on their highest setting. The hands on their thighs come to a halt at the edge of their boxers, and the softened expression on her face shifts into one of unabashed lust as she looks at Patrick.
In answer to his question, she starts to crawl over to him. Seeing that the mattress is a twin, it doesn't take too long for her to reach him and settle into place on top of him. Her hands slide up to cup his face, forcing him to only look at her when she lowers herself onto his lap. The spandex shorts hugging every inch of her figure do little to keep him from feeling the warmth of her cunt against the bulge that formed the second she took her top off.
That first brush of her lips against his is gentle, as though she has him under a trance, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to snap out of it. Patrick's hands grasp her hips first to keep her from moving away, then they slide down to knead the soft, supple flesh of her ass as he begins to kiss her back hungrily. The kiss quickly begins to descend from her lips to her jaw until he reaches the soft skin of her neck.
While he nips and sucks at the sensitive spot along the side of her neck, Y/N opens her eyes to find Art staring, unblinking, at the pornographic display before him. The sight of him alone—between his messy blonde hair, piercing eyes, and masterfully structured face—is enough to pull a breathy moan from the back of her throat. One would think that she would get used to the way he makes her feel when he looks at her like that, but she never does.
One of the arms wrapped around Patrick's neck uncurls itself to reach for Art, fingers wiggling to beckon him to her.
He's already invading her space by the time she whispers, "C'mere, baby."
Art practically melts into the two writhing bodies he kneels beside at the casual use of a pet name from her. The word echoes in the farthest reaches of his brain until it is all he can hear on a loop. Even as she grips the back of his neck and pulls him until their mouths collide, his cock twitches from the memory of her calling him baby.
Patrick continues to suck, lick, nip, and kiss his way down her neck as she slips her tongue into Art's mouth with a groan. He leaves marks behind everywhere he goes with the thought of his friend finding them on her for the next week and a half in mind. It only makes it more thrilling for him to imagine the strange mixture of frustration and arousal that will arise within Art when he rediscovers them the next time they hook up.
Slowly, she is guided onto her back by his mouth slipping down to take one of her nipples into it and his callused hands peeling her shorts, along with her soaked cotton thong, down over the swell of her ass. The freshly washed sheets are soft against her bare back as she lays back and watches Patrick worship her breasts with both his mouth and hands. In the midst of their repositioning, Art took it upon himself to squeeze into the cramped space next to Patrick, slotting himself between him and the wall the bed is pressed against. Without a word of warning, he dips his face down to kiss the breast Patrick is cupping in his hand.
She feels hands everywhere, unsure of which belongs to who. Hands grapple for purchase on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her thighs, and her ass—always moving in search of new territory to claim. Although they have no way of coordinating their actions, they seem to move in sync with one another. The second Art's mouth lowers to kiss down her stomach, which flinches inward at the feeling, Patrick follows. If she weren't so overwhelmed with everything right now, she'd likely laugh at how eager they are to race each other down the length of her body.
Their heads bump every few seconds by the time they reach her parted thighs, but they are too focused on getting a taste of her to care at first. They work with the same synchronized harmony they once had as doubles partners, Art tugging her left leg over his shoulder while Patrick shoves her right up and out until her thigh is flush with her chest. She can't help but silently thank her parents for enrolling her in gymnastics lessons years ago. If they hadn't, this would be a tad uncomfortable.
Finally, Patrick tries to shove Art to the side a little, complaining, "Come on, man, you're with her all the time."
To her surprise, it works for the first moment or so. Art places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh as Patrick's tongue makes a broad stroke through her, but it isn't long before he grows dissatisfied with his current role in this impromptu threesome and decides to fight back. He doesn't shove or push like Patrick had, instead, he gently nudges his head against Patrick's until they can share her.
Having Art go down on her alone always feels pleasurable, but having both of their mouths on her at the same time is another sensation entirely. It's indescribable. Spit drools from their lips as they kiss her sodden cunt, taking turns flicking the tips of their tongues against her clit for the sake of hearing her moan over and over. From where she looks down at them, they're nearly kissing each other as they eat her out, and she has to tip her head back onto her shoulders to keep them from seeing her smirk.
When she looks back down, she makes a breathy, gasping sound at the sight of them. Patrick is looking up at her with an intensity no man has ever had when looking at her, not even Art, and there is no ignoring the feeling it stirs in the pit of her abdomen.
"Fuck," she whines and pushes herself harder against their faces, but it's never enough. "More—I need more. Please."
Neither one hesitates. In fact, they seem to form a plan without speaking it aloud. As Art's free hand raises from where it palmed his cock through his boxers, Patrick's lips close around her sensitive, puffy clit and start to suck. The tips of Art's middle and ring fingers brush tentatively against her hole, then, teasingly slow, push inside until they're buried knuckle deep.
The contrast of the men as lovers—Patrick being unforgiving and passionate, Art being tender and desperate—threatens to dizzy her. But Art cannot control himself for too long. He often starts slow and gentle, his eyes flooded with genuine affection for whoever is pinned under his body, then loses his composure the farther things go. By the time he's inside of her, he's almost brutal in how hard he fucks her, and it isn't out of malice, it's out of animalistic lust.
So, as per usual, the pace Art sets to begin with shifts into something harder and faster.
Over the sounds of the fans and music playing on the CD player across the room, a symphony of panting breaths, whines, and wet noises can be heard. It wouldn't surprise any of them if the people who were talking in the hallway could hear it, but it's not like they care right now.
When she closes her eyes and tries to fall back against the mattress, Patrick stops for a second to murmur, "Don't look away," before getting back to work. Something about the way his voice sounds forces her to submit to his demand without hesitation. There's an edge to it. An underlying promise that he will stop and leave her here to suffer if she doesn't listen, so she does. She watches with a slack-jawed expression at how they work diligently to get her off.
The combined sensations of the fingers pumping into her at a steady, rushed pace and the lips enclosed around her sensitive bud push her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Art slips a third finger in and licks between her sticky folds as Patrick sucks her clit relentlessly. Everything they do is motivated by a dire need to take as much of her as they can, as though they can't quite believe what's happening and want to savor it before they wake from the dream. Seeing their desperation only fuels the fire roaring to life inside of her.
They feast on her the way starving men would if presented with food—humming and groaning in satisfaction at the taste of her on their tongues. Through the haze she's fallen under as a result of the present situation, her gaze lifts from where both of their faces are smushed together between her parted thighs to find that they're both humping the mattress. It seems like they don't even realize they're doing it, which, of course, only makes it hotter for her. To think that she wields enough power over them, that she renders them so useless and needy...
Her brows pinch together at the feeling of Art's fingertips finding the sweet spot inside of her.
"Right there," she breathes out in a shaky voice, hand shooting down to grasp anything she can find for support.
It ends up being Patrick's dark hair that is weaved between her fingers and used as her lifeline, tugging nearly every time Art's fingertips find the spot inside of her that makes her throw her head back on the bed and cry out for them. If they didn't have her pinned down, her hips would be lifting to meet every thrust, but she cannot do anything other than take it. Every breath she takes turns rapid, her chest rising and falling dramatically, as the familiar feeling of her impending release grows nearer by the second.
She says, half warning and half pleading with them, "I'm"—The sentence is cut off before it can be said by a high-pitched moan that makes Patrick moan and Art whimper into her—"Please"—What she's pleading for, none of them know, herself included, but she continues to babble nonsensically anyway—"Ah!"
The hand that isn't pulling on Patrick's hair reaches down instinctively for the hand Art grips her thigh with, and she doesn't even need to ask him for it. He entwines their fingers and allows her to squeeze his hand until circulation is lost as she finally feels the wave that was building within her begin to crest.
It hits her harder than she ever knew it could.
Everything explodes into a sensation of bliss so strong, she loses herself in it. The only thing tying her body down to the earth is the feeling of the hands on her—touching her, fingering her, caressing her, and holding her hand—yet even that is not enough to keep her from floating away into another world entirely for the first few seconds of her orgasm. The muscles in her legs, so exhausted from being forced into a position like this, shake violently with every wave of pleasure rushing through her, and her walls clamp down around the fingers thrusting into her.
If she could live forever in these fifteen seconds, she would, but it soon becomes obvious to her that there's no chance of that happening. Gradually, the intense sensation starts to recede like the tides, and they are both there to help her ride it out to the very end. But once it fully fades, she wriggles beneath them in sensitivity.
Using the hand wrapped up in his hair, Y/N pulls Patrick's mouth away from her clit with a strength he didn't know to expect despite her obvious athletic background, and when Art notices this, he too slows the rhythmic pumping of his fingers inside of her throbbing heat to a stop. Wary of hurting her, he waits another five seconds before slowly pulling them out.
She has gone boneless where she lays on her back with her eyes shut and chest heaving for air.
Knowing she cannot see them, Patrick cuts his best friend a look and jerks his chin in her direction in a silent urging to check on her. Both men start to move at the same time, crawling over her until they reach her face. While Patrick lies beside her and trails his hand up and down her naked, sweat-soaked torso to occupy himself in the time it takes her to recover, Art licks her arousal from his fingers before grabbing her by the chin.
He asks with a teasing inflection, "You still with us?"
Her eyes slowly open to find them both staring at her, and she cannot help the slight smile that comes to her face at this.
"You guys almost killed me," she murmurs. "I think my vision got spotty for a second there."
They allow her another moment to catch her breath and recuperate in the aftermath of what she endured. She takes turns looking at them as she pants for air, laying with her arms above her head and thighs squeezed together due to her current state of sensitivity.
Patrick is the first to break the silence.
"We're not done with you," he says softly, the hand on her chest climbing up until it cradles the side of her neck. "But you know that, don't you?"
"I'd be a little bummed if you were," she replies.
Her head is whipping around at the sound of Art's voice.
"Only a little?"
She pushes herself up from where she's lying supine on the bed, which is now a mess of tangled sheets and sweat, to smack him on the arm. It's all in good fun, of course, and Art is hardly hurt by the playful blow she landed on him. Giggles escape her mouth as they begin to play fight, swatting and trying to pin one another down with Patrick there to spectate. He encourages Y/N to fight dirty, telling her where to strike, which causes Art to curse under his breath and declare him a traitor.
It ultimately ends with her on top, her legs straddling his hips and hands pinning his wrists to the bed. Based on the faraway, longing gleam in his eyes as he looks up at her, Patrick can tell immediately that she only won because Art allowed her to. Because there is something about being pinned to the bed underneath her that turns him on. And she knows it. It's easy to tell by how his erection presses up against her naked center through the fabric of his boxers.
Suddenly, she comes up onto her knees and moves back until she's hovering over his thighs. Her next words are a soft-spoked explanation for why she's reaching for the waistband of his boxers.
"Too much clothes."
But, to her surprise, another pair of hands comes to her aid in shimmying Art's underwear down his hips and legs. The way Patrick sees it, the sooner he helps her get them off, the sooner she'll take his off. And he isn't wrong. As soon as they get the boxers free from Art's body, the garment is tossed to the side without a care in the world. Neither of them looks to see where they landed, they're far too busy leaning in to kiss each other than keep track of their discarded clothing.
Her left hand is wrapped around Art's cock, pumping at a torturously slow pace, as she pulls away from Patrick with a string of saliva connecting their lips.
"Take those off," she says with a pointed look at his crotch.
To say he is sent scrambling to take off his underwear at her command would be an understatement. If this scenario itself wasn't hot enough to make her cunt throb with a desperate need to be fucked, she'd be giggling at his eagerness. But it's hard to find anything funny when she's faced with Patrick standing, one foot on the floor and his other leg braced against the bed at the knee, with nothing to conceal him from her anymore.
It must inflate his ego to heights it has never reached before to see her tongue dart out to wet her lips at the sight of him. The hand stroking Art falters as she admires Patrick's cock. It's about an inch longer than Art's yet equal in girth, curving up a little toward his hair-speckled, defined abdomen. A drop of precome has dripped from his tip, and she has to dip her head forward to get a quick taste. Those pretty lips wrap around him, not pushing down to take the rest of his shaft into her mouth but remaining where she is, flicking her tongue against the slit where the drops of sticky, pearlescent fluid secrete.
A taste is all she allows herself, though.
Her lips pull off of him with a soft popping sound, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact with him as she licks a drop of pre-come off of her top lip.
She turns to look at Art, then Patrick, then back at Art, asking, "How do you want me?"
Seeing that she was a virgin before she started seeing Art, she figures she isn't qualified to direct this in a way that'll be comfortable for everyone involved. No, if she had to bet, Patrick has the most experience between the three of them—with Art following closely behind—and he will have no problem taking control from here based on how he has acted thus far.
To their surprise, it's Art who answers first.
Patrick was still in a faraway daze from having her mouth around his cock only to be kicked when he was down by the question she asked. How do you want me? God, it's like she's trying to kill them.
"On my lap."
Art pushes himself up from the mattress and repositions so he sits on his knees in front of them, reaching for her hips to pull her closer without a second of hesitation. Her arms instantly reach for his shoulders to steady herself as she maneuvers into the exact position he had in mind. Buried beneath the music that has become white noise to them and the fans running on their highest setting, he thinks he hears her breath hitch in her throat once she's straddling his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against her clit.
Absentmindedly, she starts to grind against him, coating him in the slick arousal that seeps from her, but it's slow. A tease compared to what's coming next.
"Patrick," he says, his voice unwavering despite the excitement that makes his stomach churn. His hand slides down from her neck, caressing her breast as it passes by at a lazy speed, until he takes hold of himself and pumps a few times—as if he isn't hard as a fucking rock already. Over her shoulder, he meets his friend's intense stare. "If you wanna fuck her, you should probably get on the bed."
And while he would usually fire back something equally witty or taunting, Patrick cannot manage to do anything but nod. There's something about seeing Art this way that subdues him. He would like to think that the sole reason he's standing naked in front of his best friend is because there's a girl involved, but that isn't true. Not completely. Although Art would never admit to himself that he feels the same way, there's something familiar about this. Comfortable. Right.
The mattress dips with Patrick's shifting weight, squeaking a little beneath his knees until he settles into place behind her. His chest presses against her back, and his hand reaches up to grab her jaw, guiding her head to tilt so he can kiss her neck while Art lines himself up with her. She feels Patrick's cock pressing against her ass as the broad tip of Art's sinks inside of her.
Having Patrick's face buried in her neck, her shoulder, and back to her neck again provided her and Art a rare second of private intimacy. Her eyes, glazed over with lust, lock into his and refuse to look away. The intensity present in his gaze does not frighten her. If anything, it sends a rush of adrenaline through her body, and she takes a second to admire his soft, wide eyes. She's never mentioned it aloud before, but she has always been fascinated with making eye contact with him due to his right eye. Half of the iris is a striking, clear shade of blue while the other is a warm brown hue.
"Fuck," he says under his breath at the feeling of her squeezing down around him, her tight cunt resisting a little until she relaxes and sinks down until there's nothing left to take.
There's nothing that compares to the feeling of the first thrust he makes.
Every time, it makes her bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. To feel him so deep is almost undoing in itself. Then she feels another hand slide between her legs, and her mind goes utterly blank. Everything outside of this room falls away the second Patrick starts to rub her clit in gentle, languid circles to help her adjust to the stretch of Art inside of her. Patrick's lips lavish every accessible inch of her bare skin with kisses as his friend, with a hand on each of her hips, starts to lift her up and down at an unhurried pace.
Their noses and lips brush without completely touching. When she pushes her face closer to Art's, hoping to lock lips with him, he pulls away for the sake of seeing her grow hot in the face from embarrassment. The mouth worshipping the back of her neck curves up into a smirk in reaction to the games Art plays with her. Who knew he's just as fun in bed as he is out of it? Certainly not Patrick.
She mutters, voice breathy and weak, "Feels so good..."
"Yeah?" Patrick murmurs into her skin and presses his fingers hard against her clit. "Tell me how he feels."
If he could see her the way Art can right now, he'd have to suppress a chuckle at how her brows pinch together at the command. Regardless of her sudden shyness, the words he says only make her ride Art harder. Over her shoulder, Patrick searches for those pale blue eyes only to find them staring through him already. Every smooth rocking motion of her hips pushes her ass against his neglected erection, providing him with a brushing touch before pivoting away again.
"He feels"—she says, chest rising and falling faster—"He's so hard." Her sentences are hardly coherent. "Perfect—mmm—fucking me so deep." One of her hands reaches to tug his down to press it against the southernmost part of her abdomen. "Feel."
With her palm molded over the back of his hand and forcing him to push down on her belly, Patrick can hardly keep from groaning at the subtle bulge of Art's cock moving in and out of her. It's strangely intimate for the three of them to share this experience, but for him to feel every thrust through her is more than he anticipated.
Unable to fight what instinct drives him to, Patrick shifts his hips until the angle of her grinding against him allows his tip to brush up against the hole she and Art have yet to touch. He doesn't do anything more, not without her asking for it, but it's clear to both Art and Y/N that he desperately wants to. All of this physical affection shared between the two of them has made Patrick needy and jealous, so she decides to grant him mercy.
She reaches behind herself blindly to guide him elsewhere, nudging him against the hole Art is already filling. It takes them a couple of seconds to understand what she means in doing this, but, once it clicks, they start to go a little crazy. For the moment, she has stopped bouncing on Art's cock for the sake of allowing Patrick to push in beside him, and he has to surge forward to kiss her. If he doesn't distract himself with a kiss, he'll be too tempted to move.
As Art kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her own, Patrick's hand wraps around her throat for leverage with his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hand wraps around where hers grips his cock to guide it to her entrance, and with his help, they manage to squeeze the tip in.
Her jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation, and the sloppy kiss is interrupted when her head rolls back onto Patrick's shoulder. Art doesn't seem to care, though. Now that her head is tipped back, her neck is exposed for him to mark, and he takes advantage of the opportunity as soon as it presents itself. His lips brush against Patrick's fingers a few times as he kisses her fervently, sucking hard on the delicate skin that has already been bruised by his dear friend.
"You're beautiful," Art whispers into her neck between kisses. "So, so beautiful."
Taking it slow for her sake, Patrick has to force himself into her inch by inch, stretching her little cunt to take far more than she's accustomed to. But, as hard as it is, it works. After another few moments of him pushing in and pausing to let her adjust, he finally bottoms out with his cock flush against Art's. Her walls clamp down around them tightly. They both share a nervous look at this, wondering if they'll manage to last longer than thirty seconds if it already feels this good.
Slowly, she raises her head from where it slumped against Patrick's shoulder and meets Art's intense stare with one of her own. His hand raises to cup the side of her face, his fingers grazing against Patrick's, and he brushes his thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Every breath taken between the three of them is labored.
Pulling her lip down with his thumb, he asks, "Feeling okay?"
A half-second later, Patrick chimes in.
"If it's too much, you have to tell us."
Not a question, not a request, but a demand. The way he said it left no room for debate, so she nods in compliance and responds with an eagerness that neither man can miss, "M'fine, please, just fuck me..."
Patrick does not need to be told twice.
Having been sidelined for too long and forced to watch them fuck without him, he pulls out slowly, then cants his hips back against her ass with a force that takes her breath away. Amidst this, Art cannot do anything but let his face fall forward into her chest and whine in ecstasy. Just the movement of Patrick's cock rubbing against his with every thrust renders him useless. He knew it would feel better than any sex he'd had before, but this...He'll likely spend the rest of his life chasing the hedonism they are experiencing tonight.
One of her arms reaches behind her to grab Patrick's hip and dig her nails in hard while the other closes around Art's neck to pull both of them as close as can be. And now that he has forced himself back from the edge of a premature release, Art begins to move too, searching for a rhythm that feels right. Soon enough, he manages to find it. Both of their heads lift to look at each other, faces inches apart with their chins pressing on her shoulder, and they work with the same synchronicity they had while eating her out not even fifteen minutes ago.
She turns her head to the side to watch their stare-down as they rut into her like feral animals—utterly insatiable and overcome by their baser instincts. And it's only now that it occurs to her that, underneath it all, they want each other as desperately and pathetically as they want her. Patrick's gaze relentlessly bounces back and forth between Art's eyes and lips, and it makes her smirk to herself. The pleasure of fucking her as one, their pulsing cocks rubbing together in the warm walls of her cunt, has lowered their inhibitions, and the idea of being intimate with one another isn't as daunting as it would be if they were fully aware.
Leaning in to brush her cherry-flavored lips against Art's ear, she whispers, "I want you to kiss him."
The arm looped around the back of his neck pulls tighter in encouragement, bringing his body so close to hers that she can feel his ribs expanding with every breath. His only reaction to her request is a quick glance at her face once she pulls away from his ear with a sensuous lick as a parting gift. It's almost as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but the reassuring expression she wears tells him that it is real. She truly wants him to see him kiss his best friend, not only for their enjoyment but hers as well.
One second, he's looking at her, and the next, he's slotting his lips against Patrick's with a passion previously only reserved for her. Their hands both grapple for purchase on her sweat-slick body, Art aggressively kneading her breasts and Patrick squeezing her hips for dear life, as they moan into each other's mouths.
As they kiss each other hungrily, Y/N has nothing left to do but bask in the tension swelling inside of her. There's something about how wrong this situation feels to her that makes it so much more arousing. Girls are always raised with the idea that promiscuity lessens their value, and she was not an exception. Having been raised in a family of devout believers, she hadn't kissed a boy until she was seventeen years old. The next person she kissed was Art, and in the time since their first kiss, he has thoroughly corrupted her.
And even as distracted as he is by the all-consuming, wet kiss he's engaged in, Art feels her cunt start to squeeze around their cocks and immediately drops one of the hands on her breasts between her splayed thighs. His finger rubs in tight circles on her clit in hopes that she will reach her end before he and Patrick come pathetically soon.
Her body jerks where it's trapped between them when his fingers make contact, pulling their focus away from each other for the first time since their lips touched. Patrick reaches up to hold her neck in one hand and forces her face to the side so both of them can look at every subtle expression she makes.
"Don't stop," she pleads, eyes glazed over. "M'so close, Art"—Every merciless thrust elicits a high-pitched whine from her—"Patrick, please!"
The body trapped between them has gone boneless and twitchy, utterly useless at holding herself up or aiding them in any way. But they wear it like a badge of honor. With her face falling forward into Art's neck, she loses her grasp on all that is around her and lets them prop her up to fuck her like a toy existing solely for their gratification.
With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other between her thighs, still dutifully rubbing her clit, Art asks under his breath, "Isn't she fucking perfect?"
Although it was a question meant for Patrick, she can't help how she moans and clenches her walls around them when she hears it. Panting breaths from the three of them flood the sweltering dorm room, but they are too far gone to notice or care how much sweat drips off of their bodies onto one another. It's almost hard to get a firm grip on her as a result of it, but they manage to keep her in place by smushing their bodies as close as physically possible on both sides of her.
Patrick bucks his hips up into her with a recklessness that gives away how close he is to his climax.
He says, "Oh, God, yeah." The hand still collaring her delicate neck squeezes just enough to take her breath away for a second. However, once he released his hold on her, that hand moved to wrap itself up the roots of her hair. "Best pussy I've ever had. So fucking tight, it's like she wants us to come inside her." A pause, then, "Is that what you want?"
A second passes of silence from her, and he sharply tugs back on her hair until her face is no longer hidden in Art's neck. This allows them to drink in the sight of her—face twisted up in pleasure and mouth gaping open.
He asks again, "Is that what you want?"
Her response is immediate.
"Yes, yes, yes," she murmurs incoherently and takes quick turns to look between their faces. If the expressions they wear are any indication, it won't be long before her wish is fulfilled. "I'm—mmm-gonna come! I need you to fill me up, please, please!"
To this, Art rubs her clit faster while maintaining eye contact with her and finally lets go of whatever remaining scraps of self-control he has left. Knowing how close she is pushes them closer themselves, and they start to pound her hard. Hard enough that even they, as soon-to-be professional athletes, have difficulty sustaining this intense degree of exertion.
The arm that she looped around his shoulders is still there, but now her hand is sliding down from the back of Art's neck to explore the toned musculature of his upper back. Under her searching palm, she can feel his muscles contracting and relaxing beneath his pale skin.
To both her and Art's surprise, the world begins to shift in their peripheral vision until he falls flat against the mattress on his back with his length still sheathed inside of her. It takes a second for their brains to catch up with what happened and deem Patrick responsible for the position change. He laid his hands flat on her back and pushed with just the right amount of force to pin Art to the mattress beneath them.
Art says, breathless, "I can feel you squeezing us, baby, just let go."
Hearing those words sets fire to her blood, and that, paired with the toe-curling sensation of them pressing deep inside of her, hitting that spot over and over and over, is what tips her over the edge.
Patrick keeps pulling on her hair to force her head up so that they can feel and watch her come, and what a beautiful sight it is. Art, the lucky bastard, is face to face with her as she tenses up with the onslaught of her climax. But he can see the side of her pretty, flushed face and drink up every little sound she makes, so he doesn't feel left out in any way. No, he is experiencing this right beside Art. They're both trapped inside of her, pumping into her throbbing heat and letting themselves be swept away into oblivion by the feeling of her coming undone.
She digs her nails into Art's skin hard enough to hurt as she whines and writhes between them with each pulse of pleasure that runs through her, and it isn't until she's starting to come down, riding out the high, that she feels them spill into her at the same time. Every sensation attached to it prolongs her orgasm—the throbbing, the spreading warmth, and the dying undulations of their hips that grind their cocks together within her. And beyond the physicality of the act, just knowing that they're filling her to the brim with their come makes her head spin from how fucking hot she finds it.
It isn't long before their thrusts slow into a sensuous grinding as they come down from it together, then come to a full stop to keep from overstimulating themselves. They both are starting to go soft, panting and leaning against her limp body in exhaustion, and know they wouldn't be able to continue even if they wanted to.
Her head is laid on Art’s shoulder with Patrick’s nose nuzzling her neck. There's nothing they can do except remain still and try to recover from the euphoria that has rendered them useless, so that is precisely what they do. With their bodies nearly melting together from the heat, the three of them hold onto each other for support until they manage to return to full consciousness after what they went through.
It isn't until another couple of moments have elapsed that Patrick and Art start murmuring to one another while she remains slumped between them. A second later, both pairs of hands are squeezing her hips; lifting her off of their softening cocks, slowly, gently, and minding her sensitivity.
The three of them collapse side by side on the twin bed, bodies squeezed together like sardines, and she finally comes back down from the clouds her head floated into at the feeling of them touching her. It isn't sexual. No, they wouldn't dream of putting her through anything more than she could handle right now. Both touches are tender and featherlight—Art's hand molds over her breast simply to cup it as they cuddle while Patrick brings her hand up from her side to brush a kiss over her knuckles.
The silence continues to stretch on, then—
"We're definitely gonna have to do that again," she says, turning her head to look at each of them before laying her cheek against Art's shoulder. "That is, if don't mind sharing me."
His gaze softens, the hand cupping her breast ghosting up over her skin until it finds her and Patrick's entwined hands.
"I don't mind one bit."
-
Thank you for reading this! I probably won’t write any more Challengers fics but I saw the movie like five times in theaters and needed to crank this out to satisfy the part of me that is obsessed with the hotel scene. I would really appreciate a comment to let me know what you thought if you’re open to that 🫶🏻 The oral part of this fic was inspired by these two (1) (2) I read, so def give them a read cause they're great!
#fanfiction#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig smut#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#no editing other than grammarly cause idgaf#art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader#challengers#listened to white mustang by lana the whole time 😩#and uncle ace cause duh
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Somewhere Only We Know
Dustin wants to know why Eddie despises you over every other member of the dark side. You're just some cheerleader, right? What could you have possibly done to incur Eddie's wrath?
Starts off with Dusty Buns POV, then Eddie then yours.
Mentions of weed, Jason being a prick, Eddie pines but won't admit it... Mdni. Vecna? Who's Vecna.
🖤💌
Dustin truly thought Eddie Munson was one of the coolest people he had ever known, Steve of course was on that list of total badasses as well.
However for all, Dustin knew of Eddie and that was a lot (the guy made his feelings loud and clear on a variety of things, conformity, Jason Carver, why metal was the superior genre of music, Jason Carver.
But in the few short months since Dustin joined Hellfire and was taken under Eddie's wing, there was one topic he wasn't so clued up on, and that was you and the mystery of why Eddie seemed to despise you above everyone else in this school.
He had tried to casually bring the topic of you up, sure you were a cheerleader and on the dark side and Eddie hated conformity and shit but clearly you had done something painful to Eddie for him to hate you like this.
Dustin wasn't exaggerating either, anytime you and Eddie were in the same vicinity of each other it was like the temperature dropped in the room and Dustin was chilled to the bone at the icy glares between you and Eddie.
Literally, the mention of your name had Eddie's eyes filling with disdain. "She's a traitor and can't be trusted, don't ask about her again Henderson" Eddie snapped during one lunch break when Dustin brought you up out of curiosity.
"Uh meaning?" he asks confused but not wanting to piss Eddie off any further. His question is ignored until Gareth answers it quietly.
"She used to be in Hellfire, then she tried out for a spot on the cheerleading squad and got in. Refused to choose between the two, said she could do both and that Eddie was being an asshole, they had a big fight and she left Hellfire. It broke Eddie's heart even though he pretends otherwise"
Well, shit. "Don't tell him I told you that dude and don't bring her up again. Touchy subject" Dustin nods and expects that's the last he will hear about you.
It's not.
💌
Eddie ignores the chatter around him while his gaze is solely focused on you. Jackson had been hanging around you constantly and for some reason, it pissed Eddie off. Couldn't he enjoy his pretzels and Yoohoo in peace without seeing such a sickening display?
If Eddie felt a twist in his gut every time Jackson got too close to you then that was his business.
"Can't they go to the bleachers and hash it out so I don't have to bring up my lunch every time Jackass decides to flirt" Eddie snaps and narrows his eyes at you, Gareth rolls his eyes and Jeff hides his snort behind a cough when Eddie's glare is aimed at him.
"Dude she's not even interested in him. He was an asshole when they dated and she got sick of him within two weeks" Jeff is apparently very informed on the matter and this annoys him even more.
"You're very informed on the dating lives of the dark side Jeff?" Jeff shrugs and mutters something under his breath, something suspiciously like he still talks to you from time to time.
This would be Eddie's next rant. Giving the time of days to traitors was not in the Hellfire handbook, just because they had pretty eyes and a sweet but deadly smile was not an excuse to break said rule.
Unfortunately, he has a deal to make, the rant would be adjourned to another time. "Gentlemen, I must leave you now to embark on a quest for gold in the deep dark woods" he bows then heads out to his spot in the woods.
Waits for ten minutes and thinks that whoever it is isn't coming. All he had to signify the meeting was a note in his locker and he's still unsure if he's walking into a trap by Carver.
Impatient and just about to give up, he gets up and then stills when he sees you walk into the clearing. What the shit... Since when did you smoke weed? He's never known you to do it in any of the time he's known you.
"Munson" you nod and he closes his gaping mouth as you join him on the table, he expects you to be tense but you close your eyes and enjoy the cool wind and the peace of just the birds singing and leaves rustling gently. He forgot how much you liked being out here.
He clears his throat refusing to get lost in memories and you sigh, open your eyes and he stares back impassively. "Surprised Jackass isn't hanging off you like a limpet" he snarks and you roll your eyes at his tone.
"Jackson' you emphasize ''needs to take a hint. Look, Megan asked me to pick up weed for the party this weekend, so we can cut to the chase" Eddie snorts, you never did have time for bullshit.
"How much do you want?" you shrug and place twenty-five bucks on the table.
"Carver is paying apparently" There is a glint of mischief in your eyes and you smile impishly. Eddie does not get lost in that smile, no way. He clears his throat and smirks.
"Well if it's Carver's money" he takes the full amount and is surprised when you unsuccessfully try to hide a smile. He sobers up and plays with his rings, looks at you briefly then speaks again.
"Uh, it's potent so just make sure that you don't get overboard" he spits it out quickly, like he doesn't care either way what you do. You pause before getting up and there's that soft smile again.
"Careful Munson, anyone would think you still care about me'' there's a sadness to your tone and Eddie watches you go. There's an ache in his chest that feels all too familiar.
💌
You loved cheerleading, the closeness you felt with the rest of the team, learning routines together and having each other's backs. The close friendship you had with Chrissy and Tina. It was senior year and the cheer squad were on the precipice of winning a trophy for the school.
In that sense your life was perfect. In other ways not so much. You hated Jason but tolerated him for Chrissy. Jackson wouldn't stop bugging you to go back out with him, even though you had barely dated him for two weeks and grew tired of his jealous and demanding behaviour.
No way were you going down that road again. Then there was Eddie Munson, who hated you and made that feeling known, he was the bane of your existence and yet you were so tired of the animosity between you both.
Most of all you were sick of Jason and his stupid superiority, boy did he never let you forget that you didn't belong with the cheer squad. He all but cornered you after lunch to rant at you for laughing at one of Eddie's stupid jokes at Jason's expense.
It was a reflex. That's all and it was funny to see Jason brought down a peg or two.
"Don't think I forget where you came from freak, you can easily go back to obscurity playing Dungeons and Dwarves with Munson and his band of geeks" Jason snaps and you meet his gaze with unwavering intensity.
"Dragons", He looks confused and you smirk ''Its Dungeons and Dragons, dumbass" you tack on dumbass at the end just to piss him off even more, how dare he threaten you? Who did he think he was?
Sometimes you wished you could just go back and be a part of Hellfire Club again, a club that so easily accepted and looked after their own. Cheerleading was similar to that but the people in your friends circle sure liked to ruin any sense of security you felt. Mostly Jason and some of his Neanderthal friends.
Jason snorts and then he slams the locker beside you hard and it rattles you but you don't show it, when that doesn't work Jason knocks the books out of your hands and they go flying and he stomps on them before he leaves.
His laughter echoes down the hallway and you shout after him that he's an asshole, gather the books as best as you can and freeze as your well-loved copy of The Hobbit which already isn't in the best state falls apart completely.
Tears pool in your eyes and you hastily wipe them away, it's just a book, it's just a book you chant in your head but it doesn't work. It's been your constant companion since you were nine and it breaks your heart to see it tattered and broken.
Ringed hands help gather the rest of your work and you whimper. Shit, not him. Not now. Hastily you wipe your tears away and stand up, meet Eddie's gaze as he holds your books for you.
He looks begrudging in helping you but slowly his features soften at your tears, he looks at the tattered book in your hand, at the faint smudge of a shoe print.
"Who...Carver did this?" he growls and you nod still seething but the anger is ebbing away to sadness.
"I've had that book since I was nine and I know I can buy a new one but it's not the same, I hate him and I hate his stupid bullshit king title. He's an asshole and his group of Neanderthal friends and he can't even get the name of D&D right and I miss...'' you swallow and Eddie's anger melts away, his gaze intent on you.
"What do you miss?" he asks softly and you figure you've already spilled out some secrets so why not indulge one more.
"I miss Hellfire and I miss y...everyone" you hurriedly say and hope Eddie didn't notice the slip ''but everyone hates me now"
Eddie gently hands you back your books and you thank him. He's silent for a moment then speaks up.
"Everyone misses you too" he is about to walk away when you stop him. Your heart is racing but you have to be sure.
"Everyone?" you confirm and he knows what you're asking, if everyone includes him. He nods and reaffirms what he said.
"Everyone sweetheart and one more thing... no one hates you" he walks away at that point, runs to catch up with one of the freshmen in Hellfire and steals his hat. A laugh bursts out from you as you watch Dustin? as he chases Eddie around the hallway.
Yeah, you do miss Hellfire...and Eddie.
♥️
When you get to your locker on Monday morning there's something jammed in your locker so that it isn't fully closed. When you open the locker, a book falls out and you recognise the cover immediately.
A new copy of The Hobbit. You pick the book up and hug it to your chest, eyes sparkling with tears. You know exactly who left it in your locker but the little note of crumpled-up paper falls out.
It's clearly ripped from a Dungeon Masters notebook. All that's on it is a small message in a messy scrawl but it makes your heart skip several beats anyway.
Since Carver ruined the first copy, I thought you might want another.
E M 🖤
💞💞💞💞💞💌
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x cheerleader!reader#enemies to friends to lovers#eventually#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson
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Hi can I request a wife x Anthony bridgerton story where reader is finally pregnant and how she would tell Anthony and the family
hi darling, ofc!! (omg thanks for sending an ask)🩷
Anthony Bridgerton x female wife! reader
warnings: mentions of period/blood, pregnancy
***
The morning light filters through the delicate lace curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as you stretch beneath the covers. It’s early, and the house is still wrapped in the serene quiet of dawn. You take a deep breath, feeling the familiar tug of routine urging you to start the day. As you move to rise, a sudden realization freezes you in place. You glance down at the crisp white sheets beneath you and feel a jolt of surprise and anticipation. There is no sign of your monthly visitor.
Your heart begins to race. Could it be? After all these months of hope and disappointment, dare you believe it? Your hands tremble slightly as you press them to your abdomen, a wave of tentative joy washing over you. You have to be sure. Quietly, so as not to wake the household, you slip from the bed and dress quickly, your thoughts a whirlwind of hope and possibility.
Making your way down the hall, your steps are light, almost as if you are floating. Each breath feels like a prayer, a silent plea for your dreams to be true. As you approach Anthony’s studio, you hear the soft scratching of his pen against paper. He’s been up for hours, as is his custom, losing himself in work before the household stirs.
You hesitate for a moment at the door, gathering your courage. Then, with a bright smile breaking across your face, you push it open and step inside. Anthony looks up, his eyes lighting with surprise and pleasure at the sight of you.
“My love,” he greets, rising from his desk. “What brings you here so early?”
You can barely contain your excitement as you close the distance between you, your hands reaching out to grasp his. “Anthony, I have news. The most wonderful news.” Your voice trembles with emotion, and you see his eyes widen, a spark of anticipation igniting within them.
“What is it?” he asks, his tone eager, almost breathless.
“I… I think I’m pregnant,” you whisper, tears of joy welling in your eyes. “I checked the sheets this morning, and there was nothing. I haven’t felt any of the usual signs. Anthony, I believe we are finally going to have a child.”
For a moment, he is silent, the words hanging in the air between you. Then, with a cry of joy, he sweeps you into his arms, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. Laughter bubbles from your lips as you cling to him, the room a blur of motion and happiness.
He sets you down gently, his hands framing your face as he gazes into your eyes, his own brimming with tears. “My love, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “We are going to be parents.”
You nod, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the depth of his joy and the love shining in his eyes. He kisses you then, a tender, reverent kiss that speaks of promises and dreams and the future you will build together.
In the hours that follow, you and Anthony make plans to share the joyous news with the rest of the Bridgerton family. The day seems to fly by, a whirlwind of preparations and secret smiles, your heart soaring with the knowledge of the life growing within you.
As evening falls, the dining room is a picture of elegance and warmth. The table is set with the finest china, gleaming silverware, and fresh flowers that fill the air with a sweet fragrance. The soft glow of candlelight bathes the room in a golden hue, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
The family gathers, their faces alight with curiosity and affection. You can barely contain your excitement, your eyes meeting Anthony’s across the table, a silent communication passing between you. Finally, as the conversation lulls, Anthony rises, his hand reaching for yours.
“Everyone,” he begins, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “we have some wonderful news to share. We have just learned that we are expecting a child.”
For a heartbeat, there is silence, and then the room erupts in joyous exclamations. Daphne and Eloise rush to embrace you, their laughter mingling with yours. Benedict and Colin slap Anthony on the back, their congratulations hearty and sincere. The younger Bridgertons dance around the room, their excitement infectious.
Violet, her eyes shining with tears, crosses the room to you. She takes your hands in hers, her smile radiant as she draws you into a warm embrace. “Oh, my dear,” she whispers, her voice trembling with happiness, “this is the most wonderful news. I am so happy for you both.”
You hold her tightly, the love and acceptance in her embrace filling you with a profound sense of belonging. “Thank you, Violet,” you whisper back, your voice choked with emotion. “We are so blessed to have all of you to share this with.”
As the evening unfolds, the room is filled with laughter and celebration. Glasses are raised in toasts, and stories are shared, each one adding to the tapestry of joy that weaves through the night. You sit beside Anthony, your hand in his, your heart full to bursting with love and happiness.
This is the beginning of a new chapter, a future filled with promise and hope. And as you look around at the faces of those you hold dear, you know that this child will be welcomed into a world brimming with love and joy, surrounded by family who will cherish them always.
***
hope you like it!!🩷
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did you hear what the rumor said ? - Kim Mingyu
18+ / mdi
summary: Dating as Idols means, keeping it a secret.
Rumors will spread, people will get hurt.
What if this one Rumor brings you over the edge and you no longer can handle this Secret?
content: Idol Mingyu x Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff,
wc: 1.4 k
a/n: I always think about, how tiring it must be for Idols to date, or to just meet people.
How they need to keep everything a Secret.
I would not want to trade with that.
-
If there's one thing the companies will teach you at the start of your career, it's handling rumors.
There will be rumors about everything. At the beginning, they will start small, but as the group grows, the rumors grow.
Ever since your debut, the rumors have been huge. Hybe's newest Girlband was rumored to be found by Woozi.
"Y/N Spotted Leaving the Seventeen Mansion"
"Y/N and Mingyu were spotted together at a luxury dinner; they were pretty cozy."
"Seventeen Mingyu was spotted with hickeys after a dinner date with Y/N."
So, as you may have guessed, the rumors were about you and Mingyu dating, and the funny thing was, the rumors were true.
You met Mingyu while you were just applying for the Hybe Auditions; you could not find the door, and you bumped into him.
He kindly guided you to the right room, and from that moment on, every time you two spotted each other, you actually ended up hanging out.
And ever since he took you out on a date, you two have been officially a couple.
3 years together, and no one knows except your closest friends. It was like a routine, going to work separated but ending together on the couch.
You were each other's comfort after a long work day.
But of course, those were not the only rumors. When you joined Enhypen in their dance challenge, Jay was looking at you with the brightest smile, and you jumped on his back.
With that, a new ship was built, and Mingyu saw the headlines first. You rushed to his studio, where he was busy recording. You saw how his eyes were dull, and you just walked into the booth, hugging him.
"Only you, Gyu," you whispered while looking up at him. "Those rumors are getting out of control," he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours.
"We just need to remember who we belong to, baby, you and me." You pulled him closer, "only us." He agreed, kissing you softly.
Meanwhile, the rumors did not stop you; you both just got better at ignoring them.
Mingyu was currently on a Japan tour, and you were busy with the upcoming comeback. The traveling made everything a lot harder, but you were getting better at handling it.
After you suggested that you want to watch their final Japan show, Mingyu declined, telling you that you need to rest, and there's actually no spot anyway.
You wished him good luck and watched the livestream. You were always amazed by your boyfriend's talent.
When you scrolled through Twitter, you saw the new trending hashtag #mingyuSomi.
She was at the concert wearing the Mingyu Nana tour shirt; everyone shipped them; they always said they were the perfect match.
You felt your heart hurt at that.
But when the concert finished, the normally post-concert call did not come through. It was a ritual you two had; whenever one finished a show, they would call and just say how they were feeling.
They were never skipped.
and when you saw the new headlines, you felt your heart breaking into a thousand pieces.
Mingyu was spotted leaving the venue with a giggling smile on his arm. "Seventeen Mingyu and Jeon Somi were spotted leaving the stadium after Seventeen's final Japan tour." You wanted to swipe it away, but you could not.
"Jeon Somi and Kim Mingyu are known for their flirty relationship; tonight the two idols were spotted giggling and touching with each other; Mingyu apparently even joined her in the car, and they went out for a romantic Italian dinner.
We think it's the minimum he could do for his girlfriend that joins him at the final show."
You did not notice the tears running down your cheek; you did not notice how you suddenly realized the situation—that she was there with him while you were sitting at home waiting for his call.
Even if this was just a rumor at this exact moment, it broke your heart. You knew Somi, and you knew that she was in love with Mingyu. This made it even worse.
You waited for his call the entire night, but the only thing you were left with were paparazzi pictures of them out in a club.
The only thing that could help you the next day was focusing on your comeback. You drowned yourself in work, and you ignored your boyfriend.
You ignored his messages, and you ignored his calls.
You were being childish; you knew it; you were clouded by the pain you felt.
Without a safe flight message, you could not focus, so when you typed that in, you saw that he directly read the message. You quickly put your phone away, starting the music for practice.
When the evening came, you went home; you could not stay at his place.
You don't even know what broke you exactly, but maybe the fact that everyone wanted them to be real while you were just watching him ditch you.
You began to cut some veggies and fry some chicken and sat down on the couch. You were busy watching Grey's Anatomy when you heard your door beep.
Before you knew it, a furious Mingyu was standing in front of you. He was dressed in some joggers and the matching hoodie. He looked tired and clearly exhausted from the flight.
"Gyu," your widened eyes watched every step. "What the fuck has happened?" He crossed his arms and said, "Your ignoring me for two days and then your staying at your place?" He was angry. "I felt like it," you said with furrowed eyebrows. "You felt like it? You're lying now at me?" He grew mad, and you got up.
"I did not want to see you," you stated. "What the fuck? I missed you, and I could not wait to come back home, and now this?" He scoffed. "Maybe Somi would be happier," you muttered.
"Care to repeat that?" He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe Somi would be happy to have you home, my love," you said sarcastically, and he let out a huff. "What are you on about?"
"You told me that I don't need to come, that there is no space, and then I see fucking Somi there." You felt the tears. "You spent the entire night with her, and you forgot about me; you forgot our ritual." You blinked away the tears. "So this is the reason why I don't want to see you."
Mingyu was speechless. "And you don't think about talking to me? This is fucking ridiculous," he let out a laugh. "I DID NOT UTTER A WORD WHEN EVERYONE THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING JAY," he yelled, and you flinched.
If there is one thing, Mingyu never yells.
"ALL THOSE DUMB VIDEOS OF YOU TWO ALL OVER MY TIK TOK." You could not move at his outburst, and you could only stare at him in shock.
When he realized that he had yelled at you, he gasped. "Y/N," he whispered, but you just let out a sob. "I think you should go," you whispered while turning around. "Apperantly, we're not that good at ignoring the rumors," you added while sitting down.
"Baby, I did not mean to yell," he whispered. "I'm tired, and I'm just so exhausted." He said with a pleading tone, "That's why you should go home; we should not discuss this right now; it will only end in a fight." You smiled sadly.
"I love you, Jagiya," he said while walking towards the door. "I love you too, but I don't want to be a rumor anymore," you sobbed. "Goodnight.".
You heard the door closing, and not even a minute later, you got a notification.
"Mingyu: Date nights only with you. 🔐❤️"
You saw that he posted a photo you took of him with you tagged, and you gasped. The blanket flew to the side, and you hurried to the door.
When you opened it, he was standing in front of the door looking at you. "You did not just confirm our relationship." You were at a loss for words, and he grinned at you. "I want you to be my only true rumor." He pulled you close and softly wiped your tears away.
"Please don't ever think anyone could be better than you; I love you with my entire heart; my family loves you; my sister sees you as the sister she always wanted; I could never love someone more like I love you.".
You softly kissed him and said, "So now let's talk about the monster performance." You pulled him inside.
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DICENTRAS (Chapter Five)
FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader
SUMMARY Lucien shows up to the Autumn Court and secrets are soon revealed.
CONTENT WARNINGS angst, arguing, leaving, grief (over someone who is still alive), minor injuries, and Eris being angry.
AUTHORS NOTE annnnnd we are back into the swing of things! I would like to thank you all again for your patience these last few weeks, I am so incredibly grateful to all of you. Anyways, enough of the sappy, enjoy getting your hearts ripped out! :) -Dee
SERIES MASTERLIST
As the weeks passed after that fateful kiss, the atmosphere in the forest house transformed entirely. You had moved into Eris's room, and the space quickly became a haven of warmth and love. Each morning, you would wake in his arms, feeling the solid comfort of his embrace, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting a gentle glow over the room. The dawn would break with whispered conversations and soft laughter, the sound of your shared happiness filling the air like a sweet melody.
Eris had taken to placing his hand on your growing belly every morning, feeling the baby's movements with a look of awe and wonder in his eyes. The bond between the two of you deepened with each passing day, and the baby seemed to sense the harmony, responding with gentle kicks and rolls whenever Eris was near. The connection between the three of you was palpable, a testament to the love that had blossomed in the most unexpected of places.
You found yourself in a nesting frenzy, driven by an instinctive need to prepare for the baby's arrival. Eris's room, once a bachelor’s retreat with minimalistic decor, transformed under your careful touch. You spent hours arranging and rearranging furniture, making space for a crib beside the bed. The room was soon filled with soft blankets, tiny clothes, and stuffed animals, all ready to welcome the new addition to your family.
Eris supported your efforts wholeheartedly, often surprising you with thoughtful gestures. He would return from his duties with little gifts—a handcrafted mobile, a beautifully woven blanket, a carved wooden toy—each item chosen with care and love. Your evenings were spent together, organizing the baby's things and talking about the future, your shared dreams of the family you were about to become.
Despite the physical challenges of being 38 weeks pregnant, you found joy in the small moments. You would waddle around the room, humming lullabies as you folded and refolded baby clothes, your heart swelling with love every time the baby kicked in response to your voice. Eris would often catch you in these moments, his eyes softening with adoration as he watched you, a smile playing on his lips.
One particularly memorable evening, you decided to decorate the nursery corner you had set up. Eris had brought home a set of delicate, hand-painted stars to hang above the crib, and you both spent hours arranging them just right, laughing and teasing each other as you worked. By the time you finished, the room had a magical feel, the stars twinkling in the soft light, creating a peaceful haven for your baby.
Life was good, better than you had ever imagined it could be. The love between you and Eris grew stronger with each passing day, a bond forged in trust and mutual respect. The baby thrived within you, their movements a constant reminder of the new life you were about to welcome. The forest house, once a place of secrecy and fear, had become a home filled with love and hope.
But even in the midst of this happiness, a shadow lingered, a secret that weighed heavily on your heart.
Each morning began with the soft glow of dawn filtering through the windows of Eris's room, the warmth of his embrace a welcome start to the day. You would rise with the sun, your movements slow and deliberate as you navigated the space, your growing belly a constant reminder of the new life growing within you.
Breakfast was a leisurely affair, spent in the cozy kitchen of the forest house. The cook, a kindly woman with a penchant for indulging your cravings, would greet you with a warm smile as you entered, her apron stained with flour from her morning preparations. You would exchange pleasantries as you made your way to the table, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread filling the air.
On this particular morning, however, you found yourself with an insatiable craving for something sweet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you made your way to the kitchens, your footsteps light as you tiptoed down the hallways. The cook greeted you with a knowing smile as you entered, her eyes twinkling with amusement at your predictable craving.
"Good morning, dear," she said, her voice filled with warmth as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing the day's meals. "What can I do for you today?"
You grinned sheepishly, the anticipation of indulging in your favorite treat making your mouth water. "I was hoping you might have some of those honey cakes you made last week," you said, your voice hopeful as you eyed the display of pastries on the counter.
The cook chuckled softly, her laughter like music to your ears. "Ah, I see someone has a sweet tooth this morning," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm afraid we're all out of honey cakes, but I could whip up a batch of cinnamon rolls if you'd like?"
Your face lit up with delight at the suggestion, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. "That sounds perfect, thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude as you watched the cook set to work.
As you waited for your treat to bake, you found yourself lost in thought, the warmth of the kitchen and the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon filling you with a sense of contentment. But just as you were about to indulge in your freshly baked cinnamon roll, a voice broke through the tranquility of the moment, sending a shiver down your spine.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" came a familiar voice from behind you, the sound sending a jolt of panic coursing through your veins. Turning slowly, you came face to face with Lucien, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in the scene before him.
You froze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. Lucien's presence was unexpected, his sudden appearance sending your carefully constructed facade crumbling to the ground. As he stepped closer, a smirk playing on his lips, you felt a surge of fear wash over you, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you under its weight.
Despite the initial shock of seeing Lucien standing before you, you forced a polite smile onto your lips, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. His presence was unexpected, but you knew that you had to maintain your composure, at least until you could find a way to extricate yourself from the situation.
"Lucien," you greeted him, your voice carefully neutral as you returned his friendly smile. "What a surprise to see you here."
He returned your greeting with a warm smile of his own, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Likewise," he said, his tone light and friendly. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack."
You chuckled nervously at his observation, the sound ringing hollow in your ears. "Oh, you know me," you replied, forcing a casual shrug. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth, and I couldn't resist the temptation of the cook's cinnamon rolls."
Lucien laughed softly at your explanation, the sound sending a pang of guilt through your chest. "I can't say I blame you," he said, his expression fond as he looked around the kitchen. "The cook here is quite talented."
As he chatted amiably with you, you found yourself falling into the easy rhythm of conversation, your nerves gradually easing as you exchanged pleasantries. He asked you about your journey to the Autumn Court, his curiosity genuine as he listened intently to your explanations.
You swallowed hard, the weight of your lies heavy on your conscience as you spun a tale of seeking adventure and new experiences, carefully omitting any mention of the true reason for your presence in the palace. You told him about your desire to explore the world beyond the borders of the Spring Court, your words carefully crafted to deflect suspicion and keep your secret hidden.
Throughout the conversation, Lucien treated you with the easy familiarity of an old friend, his warmth and charm putting you at ease despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. He seemed genuinely interested in your story, his questions probing but never invasive as he sought to understand the woman you had become since leaving the Spring Court.
But as you glanced down at the oversized shirt you had borrowed from Eris, the bulge of your growing belly hidden from view, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at your conscience. You knew that you were lying to Lucien, betraying his trust with every false word that passed your lips. But in that moment, with his friendly smile and easy laughter, it was all too easy to push aside your doubts and bury yourself in the comforting embrace of deception.
"So, what brings you back to the Autumn Court, Lucien? Is everything going well with Elain?"
Lucien's expression faltered slightly at the mention of his mate, his gaze flickering with a hint of sadness before he composed himself with a small sigh. "I wish I could say that things were going smoothly," he admitted, his tone tinged with regret. "But truth be told, Elain and I are facing some… challenges."
He went on to explain the difficulties he was encountering in his relationship with Elain, describing her struggles to adjust to life in the Night Court and the walls she had erected to keep him at arm's length. His words were tinged with frustration and sadness, his love for Elain evident in every syllable as he spoke of his desire to break through her defenses and build a life together.
"But it's not just her walls that I'm contending with," he continued, his voice heavy with concern. "There's another complication, another male who has caught her eye." He spoke of the spymaster of the Night Court, a man whose charm and wit had seemingly captivated Elain, drawing her attention away from Lucien and their fledgling relationship.
As he spoke, you could sense the pain and uncertainty that weighed heavily on Lucien's heart, his struggles with Elain's affections a constant source of anguish. Despite his efforts to win her over, it seemed that she was slipping further away with each passing day, her attention diverted by the allure of another man.
You listened sympathetically to his words, your heart aching for the pain he was experiencing. You could see the depth of his love for Elain, the longing in his eyes as he spoke of her, and it struck a chord deep within you. In that moment, you felt a kinship with Lucien, a shared understanding of the complexities of love and the challenges it presented.
"I'm sorry to hear that things are so difficult with Elain," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine concern. "But know that you're not alone, Lucien. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."
“I appreciate that,” Lucien smiled warmly, reaching over to steal a cinnamon roll from your plate before steering the conversation toward lighter subjects.
You found yourself drawn into the easy camaraderie between you and Lucien, the warmth of his presence a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your own thoughts.
But just as you began to relax into the conversation, a shadow fell over the kitchen doorway, and you turned to see Eris standing there, his expression dark and stormy. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, the tension in the air palpable as he took in the scene before him.
Lucien, ever the picture of charm and grace, greeted his brother with a casual smile, his tone light and teasing as he joked about your supposed dalliance on Calanmai. You felt the color drain from your face at his words, the implication of his jest hanging heavy in the air.
Eris's eyes narrowed at his brother's words, his jaw clenched with barely contained anger. He shot you a long, hard look, his gaze piercing through you like a knife, before turning his attention back to Lucien.
"What are you doing here, Lucien?" Eris asked, his voice cold and clipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a steely edge to his tone, a warning that brooked no argument.
Lucien raised an eyebrow at his brother's question, his expression one of mild confusion. "Just catching up with an old friend," he replied casually, his gaze flickering briefly to you before returning to Eris. "And what about you? What brings you to the kitchens?"
Eris's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he turned his attention back to Lucien. "I was looking for her," he said curtly, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "We have matters to discuss."
With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You glanced at Lucien, a silent plea for understanding in your eyes, before rising to follow after Eris, your heart pounding in your chest.
But as you moved to leave, Lucien's voice stopped you in your tracks. "Wait," he said softly, his tone filled with genuine concern. "Is everything alright?"
You turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of guilt and apprehension. And it was then, in that moment of quiet vulnerability, that Lucien's eyes fell upon the telltale swell of your belly, hidden beneath Eris's oversized shirt.
His expression softened, a look of dawning realization crossing his features as he took in the sight before him. "You're pregnant," he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and joy. "Congratulations."
You opened your mouth to speak, to correct his assumption and reveal the truth of your situation, but the words caught in your throat. In that moment, with the weight of his gaze upon you and the weight of your secret pressing down on your shoulders, you found yourself unable to speak. And so, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded, a silent confirmation of the lie that now hung between you.
As Eris stormed out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing angrily down the corridor, you felt a surge of panic rising within you. Ignoring the discomfort of your heavily pregnant form, you hurried after him as quickly as you could, leaving Lucien to his own divices the oversized shirt you wore billowing around you as you waddled awkwardly down the hallway.
"Eris, wait!" you called out, your voice strained with desperation as you struggled to keep pace with him. "Please, let me explain!"
But he didn't slow down, his strides long and purposeful as he continued to march ahead, his shoulders tense with pent-up frustration. You quickened your pace, your heart pounding in your chest as you pushed yourself to catch up to him.
"Eris, please," you pleaded, reaching out to grasp his arm in a futile attempt to stop him. "You have to listen to me."
He jerked away from your touch, his expression hardened with anger as he rounded on you, his eyes blazing with fury. "I don't want to hear it," he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. "I've heard enough lies for one day."
Tears welled in your eyes at his harsh words, the sting of his rejection piercing through you like a knife. But you refused to give up, refused to let him walk away without hearing the truth.
"I'm not lying to you, Eris," you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Please, just give me a chance to explain."
For a moment, he wavered, his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he looked into your tear-filled eyes. But then, with a frustrated sigh, he turned away from you once more, his resolve hardening with each passing second.
"I can't do this right now," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I need time to think."
But you couldn't let him leave, not like this. "Please, Eris," you implored, your voice breaking with the weight of your desperation. "I'm so sorry for hiding the truth about Lucien from you, but I was scared. I was scared of losing you, scared of what it would mean for us."
His expression twisted with anger and betrayal as he whirled around to face you. "Scared?" he spat, his voice rising with each word. "Scared of what? That I wouldn't accept you? That I wouldn't love you if I knew the truth?"
You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you tried to make him understand. "No, it's not that," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't want to burden you with my past. I didn't want to ruin what we have."
"What we have?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what exactly do we have if it's built on lies?"
"Eris, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you. I love you so much, and I never wanted to hurt you."
For a moment, he stood there, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. Then, with a voice trembling with barely contained rage, he asked the question that had haunted him since the day you first met.
"Who is the baby's father?" he demanded, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Tell me the truth, now."
You felt the walls closing in around you, the weight of the truth pressing down on you like a vice. With a shuddering breath, you finally gave in, the words tumbling from your lips in a torrent of pain and regret.
"It's Lucien," you sobbed, your voice breaking as you spoke the name. "Lucien is the father."
Eris's face contorted with a mixture of shock and fury, his eyes blazing with a fire you had never seen before. "Lucien?" he repeated, his voice trembling with the force of his anger. "You mean to tell me that my brother is the father of your child?"
"I'm so sorry," you cried, your heart breaking as you saw the pain in his eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you, Eris. Please, you have to believe me. I love you, and I need you. We need you."
He shook his head, his face a mask of anguish as he took a step back, as if trying to distance himself from the reality of your words. "I don't know if I can do this," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can be with you, knowing that your child belongs to Lucien."
"No," you pleaded, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "Please, don't leave me. Don't leave us. I love you, Eris. More than anything in this world."
For a moment, he stood there, torn between the love he felt for you and the betrayal that now threatened to tear you apart. Then, with a voice heavy with resignation, he spoke the words that you had feared most.
"I need time," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I need time to figure out what this means for us."
As Eris walked away, each step echoing like a death knell, you felt a profound sense of loss and despair wash over you. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed to the floor, the hard stone pressing painfully into your knees. Sobs of agony tore from your throat, each one more heart-wrenching than the last, the sound reverberating through the empty corridor. Your cries were raw, primal, a manifestation of the unbearable pain and heartache consuming you.
"Eris," you choked out between sobs, the name a desperate plea that went unanswered. The world around you blurred as tears streamed down your face, the reality of his departure sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. You felt utterly alone, the emptiness around you a stark contrast to the love and warmth you had shared with him.
Lost in your grief, you didn't hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late. A warm hand touched your shoulder gently, and you looked up through tear-filled eyes to see Lucien kneeling beside you, his expression one of deep concern.
"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine worry. "Are you hurt?"
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, replaced by another wave of sobs. Lucien's eyes flickered with understanding and sympathy as he helped you to your feet, his grip strong and reassuring.
"Come on," he said gently, guiding you with a firm but gentle hand. "Let's get you to the medical wing. We need to make sure you and the baby are okay."
You nodded weakly, allowing him to lead you down the corridor. Your mind was a whirlwind of pain and confusion, each step feeling like an eternity. The journey to the medical wing passed in a blur, the world around you a hazy amalgamation of sounds and shapes.
The healers quickly took you in, their hands skilled and efficient as they checked your knees and examined the baby. Through it all, Lucien stayed by your side, his presence a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil. His eyes were filled with concern, his hand never leaving yours as the healers worked.
"She's okay," one of the healers finally said, her voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "Just a bit of bruising on the knees. The baby is perfectly healthy."
Relief washed over you, though it was quickly overshadowed by the gnawing pain in your heart. Lucien helped you back to your feet, his touch gentle as he guided you out of the medical wing.
"Let's get you back to your rooms," he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "You need to rest."
You hesitated, the thought of returning to the room you had left weeks ago filling you with dread. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Eris's room. Across from mine."
Lucien nodded, understanding in his eyes as he led you to Eris's chambers. As you approached the door, a sense of foreboding washed over you. With a trembling hand, you pushed the door open, your heart sinking at the sight that greeted you.
The room was empty. Eris's belongings were gone, the space devoid of any trace of him. It was as if he had never been there at all. You felt a fresh wave of despair crash over you, the reality of his departure hitting you like a physical blow.
"No," you whispered, your voice breaking. "He can't be gone."
Lucien's expression turned grim as he looked around the room, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, his hand squeezing yours in a gesture of support. "I'm so, so sorry."
You sank to your knees once more, the weight of your grief too much to bear. Lucien knelt beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. "We'll get through this," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered heart. "You’re not alone. We'll get through this together."
But even as his words offered a small measure of comfort, you couldn't shake the feeling of profound loss. Eris was gone, and the world felt a little colder, a little darker, without him by your side.
TAGLIST
@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething
#fanfic#x reader#angst#acowar#acourtofthornsandroses#acosf#acotar#acomaf#eris masterlist#eris imagine#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris x reader#eris vandaddy#eris x oc#autmn aesthetic#autumn court#lady of autumn#acotar au#lucien vanserra#pro lucien#elain x lucien#lucien acotar#lucien x reader#pregnant#pregnancy#maternity#elain archeron#elain acotar#elain x azriel
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CHAPTER 2
As Ingird let me through their apartment I noticed how spot on it was. Everything had its place and was dusted off. A cat came to sniff my legs as we entered, making me bend down and pat its fur letting out a soft smile at the bal of fur.
“Okay so your room is right next to ours so if you need anything you can just come to us.” Ingrid explained as she opened the door to the room.
It was mostly a bare room with a nice king size bed in the middle and TV right on the opposite wall. As we walked it I spotted the big window where in front of it was a dest with some plants and a laptop.
“We didn’t know if you needed a laptop for school or not, but we figured you can just use it for whatever you want. It has netflix in it as well as the TV.” Ingird explained, probably seeing me eyeing it.
I didn’t know what to say: “I…thank you.”
She smiled softly at me and went to put a hand on my shoulder which made me flinch: “Hey don’t worry I just wanted to dust off your top.” She pointed her finger on my shoulder which had a bit of blood on it from the fight yesterday.
“Oh, that’s just um…” I started to say but Maria came literally running into the room with my bags on her shoulders.
“I don’t know if Ingrid already told you but we can do whatever you want with the room, we can paint the wall or buy new sheets, some decorations?” She was rambling and it made me look at Ingrid for help.
“Maria calm down, she just got here.” Maria stopped talking and apologized.
“It is okay. Can I use the bathroom please?” I asked not knowing where it was.
Ingrid nodded and pointed to a door in the back of my room: “There, it’s just yours.” I stared at her in shock. Did I just get my own room WITH a bathroom?
“We will let you settle down a bit, if you need anything we are in the kitchen.” Maria said and they left me alone.
I breathed out as they closed the door and I looked at my hands. They were bruised and they hurt less than yesterday but it started to get worse again due to me picking up the skin on my fingers. With a shaky breath I went to the bathroom, and carefully washed my hands under the water. It stinged and I hissed.
I replied to the fight in my head, it wasn’t my fault…I was just protecting myself. I might not have friends in school but outside it was better. Rodrigo was one of my closest friends to many people. He seemed like a bad person, but he was a sweet guy deep down. We met when I was at my first foster home when I was seven and he was ten. I saw him in a park where he had just fallen from his skateboard and I went to help him and since then we were attached to him until he started to hang out with the wrong people.
He is twenty now to my sixteen, and still he is my rock. I came to his flat more than I was to my different foster parents. And the fight happened because of him.
Flashback:
I was sitting next to Rodrigo on a couch as he smoked some weed and I just casually smoked cigarettes. His other friends were split all over his place and just doing nothing at all.
“So…you ran away again.” Rodrigo said to me as he turned my way.
I nod: “Yeah, what was I supposed to do? Get myself killed.” he gave me a soft smile and put his hand on my thigh: “Don’t worry, you can stay here if you want.”
I chuckled a bit: “Nah, I don’t think your friends would appreciate me sleeping in here.”
“You are right, we don’t want this chick sleeping here.” Someone from the other side of the room yelled as Rodrigo went to stand up and defend me but I pulled him back down: “don’t.” He huffed and sat down but couldn’t keep his mouth shut: “Shut up Diego, you bring here sluts and I can’t have here my friend?!”
It was the wrong move and from that time on, one of the only things I remember is that Diego hit first. They were punching each other hard and somehow I stood up and went to split them up.
And that was when Diego grabbed me so to my self defense I hit.
The only other thing I remember is police breaking into the apartment and separating us from each other.
I shook my head as a shiver went down my spine. I stopped the water and walked back into my room and took it all in again.
The fresh sheets.
The Tv and laptop looked completely brand new.
There was a thing I didn’t acknowledge the first time.
It was a framed Barcelona jersey. It had Alexia along with the number 11 written on the back. Alexia…Alexia… I tried to think about where I heard it before. I took out my phone and went to google it until I realized I didn’t have any wifi or data. I sigh and go to the laptop placed on the table and carefully open it. It was connected to a which I assumed was Ingrids and Maria's wifi.
I opened google and wrote about Alexia Fc Barcelona. So much information came up, that’s when I realized it’s THE Alexia, which people in my old school were always talking about. Alexia was the best footballer in the world. It’s not like I didn’t know that Barcelona had a female team, I just never had the opportunity to see them play, I never had a Tv before or money to go to see them play. There was one picture that caught my eye. It was a full squad photo, that’s when I saw them…Ingrid and Maria both being in the picture dressed in their very own kit.
I am living with famous football players…
I didn’t know if that was good or not. They are probably going to travel all the time and not have time for me…great so no need to get close to them. Since they are public figures, they wouldn't hurt a kid…at least I hoped so.
I closed the google and leaned back into the chair. What am I supposed to do now? Unpack?
The question in my head was quickly answered when my phone ding with a message.
Rodrigo: Come over?
I pursued my lips and looked at the closed door and then out of the window. It had the railing and stairs there…great way for escape.
INGRID POV:
Eliza was quiet in her room, we thought she would come out by now to eat dinner, but we didn’t want her to feel pressured so we stayed at the table waiting for her.
Mapi was texting away on her phone when she suddenly put it down: “I am going to look at her.” I nod as I waited.
She came quickly running back to me.
I frowned: “Why are you running what happened?”
Mapi had a worried look on her face: “She is not in her room.”
I quickly stood up: “What do you mean? Maybe she is just in the bathroom.”
“No, she is not anywhere and the window is open so I think she sneaked out.” Mapi said as she sat down on the chair and put her head into her hands. I ran my hand through her hair.
“Well…we know what the social worker told us. We are going to wait for her return.” I said quietly not really believing we won’t go looking for her
#woso#women's football#fc barcelona#espwnt#woso community#mapi leon#woso x reader#ingrid engen x reader#mapi leon x reader#teenage reader#alexia putellas
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♥︎♡⊱─── ✟ ───⊰♡♥︎
Warning:Dark content,stalking, suggestive,implied abuse,implied non con,kidnapping,Fyodor is a piece of shit and so is Nikolai. Mdni
The computer screens flicker as the camera changes the angle every two minutes. Fyodor watches the screens intensely waiting for someone to show up. He sees you entering the hotel with a man. You cling onto his arm as you two walk towards the hotel room. Fyodor gets slightly irritated by the sight of it. He hates how you give the man kisses on the cheek or let him fondle you in the elevator. Fyodor is going to kill Nikolai if he keeps this up. His disguise is working perfectly. You don't even realize that it's Nikolai.
Fyodor is waiting patiently for Nikolai to complete the mission. All he has to do is bring you back to the hotel and kidnap you. It's an easy job. What he didn't expect is Nikolai to fuck you. Fyodor is furious that Nikolai tainted his precious doll into doing a sinful act. He continues to watch the ordeal unfold through the secret camera that he planted in the room before you got there. Fyodor wished that was him making you feel good instead of Nikolai.
After you fall asleep, Nikolai takes this opportunity to kidnap you and bring you back to Fyodor. You wake up in a familiar room. You immediately know where you are and how fucked you were. You didn't expect to end up back at your ex husband's house. Panic settled in and you try to find a way out. The windows are shut tight with locks and the door is locked from the outside. You lay in the bed that you used to share with Fyodor. He kidnapped you a few years ago when you were going home after staying in the college library late at night studying. He locked you up in his house not letting you leave whatsoever. Eventually he made you his wife after living with him for a year. He couldn't wait to be your husband so he rushed the wedding. Fyodor was happy that his precious doll was his wife. Eventually, you managed to escape his abuse and possessive behavior. The freedom you had after escaping was terrifying at first but as time went on, you felt happy that you were away from that monster.
Your thoughts get interrupted when you hear the door being unlocked. Fyodor stands there at the entrance of the bedroom with a deadly look on his face. Fear takes over you, making you unable to move. "Well well well, if it isn't my precious wife." He walks up to you to caress your cheek gently. You slap his hand away. Fyodor slaps you across the face and scoffs. "Really? After all the things I've done for you, this is the thanks I get?" You rub your stinging cheek as tears pool in your eyes. "I'm not your wife." You start to cry seeing Fyodor again. He rolls his eyes before grabbing a fist full of hair and bringing you up to his eye level. "I will not tolerate any sort of disrespect from you. That little stunt you pulled by running away was not amusing in the slightest." You can feel his purple eyes pierce through you as if he was staring directly into your soul. He lets go of you and throws you on the bed.
Fyodor's phone starts ringing. He sees an unknown caller on the screen. He immediately answers the call and hears Nikolai on the other side. They are both speaking in Russian making it impossible to understand what they are saying. After a few minutes of being on the phone, Fyodor hangs up and puts his phone away. "We are having a guest over so be on your best behavior." He leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. You hear him lock the door from the outside leaving you completely alone in the room. You start to cry uncontrollably realizing you will never escape from his grasp.
A few hours pass by and you hear two familiar voices enter the house. The voices approach the room. You see Fyodor and Nikolai standing there watching you with an amused look on their faces. "Fedya look how adorable she looks curled up like that. I can't wait to break her." Nikolai laughs as he looks at you with predatory eyes. Fyodor hums in response. "I agree. Let's break her until she's an obedient little wife." Both men give you a sick and sadistic smile. They corner you up against the bed frame from both sides. You will never escape this hell.
♥︎♡⊱─── ✟ ───⊰♡♥︎
#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#fyodor x reader#bsd fyodor#bsd nikolai#nikolai gogol x reader#nikolai gogol#nikolai x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#fyodor dostoevsky#yandere x reader#dark content
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Interrupt ~ Sturniolo Triplets
Summary: You agreed to film a car video with the guys but you couldn't help keep interrupting Nick due to your random thoughts, resulting in a fight.
Warnings: Shouting, swearing, ADHD!Reader, argument, angst with a happy ending.
~~~~~~~~~~
Today you had gone to hang out with your best friends, agreeing to film a car video with them. The guys knew about your ADHD and being an influencer yourself, you were open about it on the internet.
All four of you were sat in the car, eating McDonald’s happily as Nick began to intro the video.
“Hey look at this funny TikTok I found of a dog!” You shouted, cutting Nick off.
You showed the video to the boys, Nick sighing as you did. All of them loved you and helped where they could with your ADHD, but they weren’t professionals.
Nick continued to talk about the video topic, however you kept interrupting him. It was like Chris but worse and Nick started to get angry.
“Shh! Your on time out for a minute!” He shouted, setting a timer on his phone, as Chris and Matt both laughed.
You pouted as he kept taking, Matt and Chris taking as well and as soon as the time stopped, you talked again.
“I think that food looks disgusting! I mean dog food looks better!” You shouted, looking at the gross food.
"Okay, what about thi-" Nick began saying, but you interrupted him.
"Oh remember that TikTok of that guy who tried dog food!" You shouted.
"Shh!" Nick exclaimed.
"Go Nick." Matt said.
"I'm trying!" He responded loudly.
"Dude calm down." Chris said.
"No! I'm actually getting pissed off now. She's constantly interrupting me every second! Like at least you keep your mouth shut for a bit, Chris." Nick responded.
You frowned a bit, Matt already turning the camera off, knowing none of them wanted this footage to be recorded.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean too." You apologised.
"You always say that, but you keep doing it. Like shut the fuck up and let someone else speak! You can't blame your ADHD all the time!" He shouted.
You fell quiet and looked out the window, feeling your heart sink. You had forgotten to take your meds this morning, resulting in you being extra loud and bubbly. They guys didn't know this though.
"Let's carry on, shall we." You said quietly.
"I promise I won't interrupt you Nick, or Matt or Chris. I promise to keep my mouth shut." You added.
"No, kid. We're not filming right now. I'm driving home and we can continue filming another time." Matt said, starting the engine.
Chris had agreed while Nick remained quiet. He instantly regretted shouting at you, especially hearing your apology for no reason.
When you all returned home, you rushed to Matt's room, taking shelter in there, as Matt slapped Nick around the head.
"Hey woah!" He shouted.
"Dude you fucked up." Chris said.
"I just got angry alright, I shout at both of you sometimes." Nick responded.
"Yeah and we take it differently to her. Plus you know she can't help it with her ADHD, why use that against her." Matt said, disappointingly.
"I know and as soon as I said it, I felt bad." Nick admitted.
"Go tell her then, bro!" Chris called.
Nick came to Matt's room and as soon as he heard you crying, he felt his heart break instantly. He walked in coming over and hugging you tightly.
"I'm so sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean anything I said. I was just a bit angry and I know you can't help it I really do, I'm sorry and know it's a fucked up thing. I get if your angry at me." He apologised.
"Didn't have my meds. I forgot." You admitted.
"Kid, why didn't you tell us?" Nick asked softly.
"Scared you'd tell me off or something....but that already happened." You answered.
"I'm so sorry again. I really am." He apologised again.
"If your willing, how about Chris, Matt and I help you try and remember your meds? Come up with some sort of plan that we'll stick by too, then we help you out and something like this won't happy again." He suggested.
"You....You want to help me?" You asked in shock.
"Of course sweetheart. I'm so sorry again for shouting at you, I should have checked if you had your meds or needed time to regulate before jumping to being a asshole." He replied.
"Thank you." You said, giving him a small smile.
"Your welcome and I'm so sorry again." He said.
You smiled and hugged him, happy he apologised and knew he was going to do better to help you and make up for his mistake.
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo triplets oneshot#sturniolo triplets fanfic#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo oneshot#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo oneshot#nick sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#platonic#angst with a happy ending#fluff#fight#argument#adhd!reader#adhd
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Is it just me or do I feel like iv would use his jacket to mark the girl he liked. Back off cunts she’s taken sort of vibes. Maybe you could write something along those lines?
I think about this a lot myself, so I definitely understand you and genuinely agree. Also III is being a bestie in this one.
His mark
It started so innocently. The whole band was hanging behind the stage after the concert. The conversation was light with people reaching in to nibble on some food and drinks. Your stage outfit, as nice as it was to jump around on stage while the huge lights shined on your body, now that you were in the dim of the back rooms did little to keep you warm. And you so could have just excused yourself from the conversation with the girls, knowing full well that they wouldn’t mind holding the conversation off for a couple of minutes but you just didn’t want to somehow break the atmosphere.
That’s when you felt it. The weight pressing on your shoulders. The heat instantly radiated from the leather that was being so casually draped over your body. Crocking your head to the side you saw none other than IV. But you didn’t even have to look. The smell of him, so familiar and at this point engraved into your brain gave him away. “Could hear your teeth clacking together from across the room, it’s so annoying”, he grunted, clearly trying to seem more annoyed than he was. “My apologies and you shouldn’t have tasked yourself with coming to my rescue”, you sassed back, slipping your arms through the sleeves. “Sometimes my kindness surprises even me”, IV shrugged, leaning equipment boxes. “We will grab some more food”, the girls chirped, making you snap your head back at them, completely forgetting that they were there in the first place.
“Is it bad that I secretly fantasized about wearing this?”, you asked so out of the blue that you were almost convinced that you heard IV choke on his drink, “This is the coolest thing I’ve seen in a long while”. IV stayed silent for a moment before that shit-eating grin spread across his face, “See, depends on what these fantasies entail”, he muttered, clearly delighted with himself. Now it was you who gasped, pushing his chest slightly as you both giggled away.
The next time it happened was in the middle of the show. The open stage, as nice as it was for some parts of the summer, wasn’t all that friendly when the summer rains split the skies. While the first two songs in soaked clothes were kind of refreshing. Rain alsp brought a lower temperature, slowly settling the tremble into your hands. That’s when a familiar figure sauntered closer but you didn’t give it much thought. IV often found himself close to you and the girls. It was his nature, well all of theirs. That’s until IV pulled his guitar off, setting it down and shrugging out of his jacket.
With your eyes already glued on him, you watched him lifting the jacket closer to you. All you could do was shake your head, “Are you insane?”, you mouthed. It was one thing doing stuff like that around the people in the team. A whole different story when fans were involved. “Put it on or I will put it on you”, IV stated flatly. Throwing the jacket up.
The logic within you told you to ignore it. Let it drop. But you couldn’t. It was way too precious. Someone had spent hours making it and it was also his. But just because it was in your hands didn’t mean you had to put it on. You could just hold it for him. Well, wrong. Cause IV dared to cross his arms over his chest as he watched you, and knowing his stubborn ass he would stand there till you did what he had told you to. With an excessive eye roll, you threw the jacket over your shoulder, pushing some of the wet strands away and clinging to your face. “Happy?”, you mouthed, but IV only winked at you before returning to the front of the stage.
And more often than not this had turned into a norm. Going to the bus? His jacket is on your body. Right before the show while the jitters are insane? His jacket. Walking through the backstages while preparing? Band meetings? Rehearsals? The list could go on and on. But since it brought you the same sense of comfort you never voiced it out loud. Too afraid that if you pointed it out he would turn the other way and run for the hills.
“So, where’s your guard dog?”, III's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Smiling you rolled your eyes, pushing a pack of goldfish towards him. “Maybe guarding someone else”, you shrugged, making III snort, “Nice try, I bet all of his security alarms are ringing off right this minute”. You frowned slightly at his words. “Oh come on, tell me that you don’t see a pattern?”, III tilted his head to the side in disbelief. “He’s just been sweet”, you muttered, “Plus, I had told him that I have frog hands and feet. I’m constantly cold”.
III just shook his head, “We all know that but do you see me running after you with a blanket?”. You huffed, letting your mouth drop, “Is this your way of telling me that secretly hate me”, you gave him the best version of puppy dog eyes. “Girl, I held your hair back while you threw up a bottle of tequila, I don’t do that for people I don’t care about”, he pointed out. You leaned in, warping your arms around his lean body, “And that is why I like you”, you muttered again his chest.
Someone cleared their throat and you instantly pulled back. Not far from you two stood IV. The fire in his eyes burning out of control. You expect III to pull back but instead, he casually slung his arm over your shoulders. “In need of a hug too?”, he teased, IV eyes burning holes in his bandmate's face. “Just wondering why you needed one”, IV said through gritted teeth. “Oh, come on, I hug you all good morning and goodnight, don’t start playing favorites”, you slapped III on his chest, pulling out of his hands.
IV equally didn’t waste any time stepping closer to you. And as if it had become your secret skin, the jacket pressed down onto your shoulders. III let out a laugh, shaking his head, “Loud and clear mate, loud and clear”, he saluted before turning back. “Why are you in a pissy mood?”, you crossed your arms over your chest, turning to face IV. His eyes are still on III. “I don’t like when people mess with what’s mine”, he muttered, snatching all air out of your lungs. “What is that supposed to mean”, you muttered, letting him pull you closer to him. “Don’t worry your head about it for now”, IV leaned in pressing a kiss to your temple.
#sleep token x reader#sleep token x you#sleep token x oc#sleep token iv imagine#sleep token imagine#sleep token fanfiction#sleep token iv x reader#sleep token iii x reader
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beomgyu who's teaching you guitar, and you just wouldn't get it even after a few hours. so he leans in closer, yanks the guitar out of his way, and starts fingering you nonstop 😵💫..
I had been thinking abt this for a long time and now im waiting for a fic abt this😋
(Sorry if my grammar is bad, English isn't my first language)
pairings: choi beomgyu + reader
wc: 1.3k
genre ▸smut, fluff at the end kinda
warnings: fingering, degradation if you squint, praise and terms such as "good girl" , "baby" etc. breast play (not too much), cum eating(?).
“my fingers are numb!”
you’re two hours into your lesson with Beomgyu, but you spent more time fussing than actually practicing. your fingers feel like they’re losing blood circulation. did he choose the hardest fucking song to start with?
“sweetheart this is only the beginning, now work on smoothing the flow of chords when you’re interchanging your ring and index finger. you’re playing the guitar not doing a test for carpel tunnel” You’re so over this already.
Youre currently situated atop his bed. The edge of it to be precise, your legs are crossed with the guitar on your thighs.“Can I have a break at least?” you whine, earning an eye roll from the man in front of you.
Beomgyu unfolds his arms and emerges off the wall he was leaning against to step closer to you. “you’re not stopping until I tell you ‘you can stop’, y/n”.
you forfeit bickering with him any further, focusing your attention back on the instrument sitting in your lap.
your dominant hand is wrapped around the neck of his guitar, while the other strums along the strings with your pick.
you’re so focused on reading the notes, that you don’t notice Beomgyu’s change in demeanor when you finally get back to playing
“Wow, y/n, look at you getting the hang of i-” his excitement is short-lived when you demolish his ear with a ridiculously loud wrong note. “You’re hopeless.” he sighs.
“My hand” you scrunch your face in pain. “Cramp, ouch”.
“Okay yeah that's understandable,” he approaches you and examines your position. “Get up, I should’ve thought about this earlier”. You’re reminded of how tall he actually is when he gets closer.
You don’t hesitate to do as he says, not thinking much of it.
He takes his place behind you, dropping himself further up onto the spot you were previously on. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t flabbergasted by his sudden action.
Still behind you, he man-spreads. Your eyes widen when you feel his hand reach up and rest on your hip. “Sit.” his voice is low and sultry.
You slowly settle onto the mattress between his legs. “Perfect,” he speaks softly.
His chest is pressed against your back, following your hand to meet the strings. “You hold the chords, i’ll strum. Can you do that for me?” his face is perched at your shoulder, eyes piercing onto your cheek awaiting your response.
“Mhm,” you murmur, making him smirk.
Your fingers dance along the lines, not too far away from his. As time goes by, the room only seems to heat up more. He’s good with his hands. Perhaps its the lack of space between your bodies, but you grow more flustered by the second, causing you to mess up more times than you’d like to admit.
“You really are something else,” he breathes out. You can tell he’s frustrated by your – many – futile attempts at following instructions. “What’s on your mind that important to have you messing up this badly?”
“It’s nothing, gyu” You look down to where his free hand, which had made its way to your thigh without you noticing, lied.
“Should I help you clear your head?” He swiftly lifts the guitar out of your lap and rests it somewhere on the floor beside him. You’re unsure of what he means. “Like what?”
“Do you trust me, y/n?” You turn to face him, eyes boring into his. The eye contact causes you to stiffen in his hold. You nod to answer his very – obvious question.
His hand slides down to the side of your thigh, pulling your legs apart. “Keep these open for me, yeah?” You inhale a sharp breath at his words. You didn't realize how worked up you’d gotten from his touches.
“So pretty like this. Is this what you wanted all this time baby?” he whispers into your neck, still caressing your lower body. Your head falls back when he presses kisses to your supple skin. “Want you, gyu” you whimper.
Thats all the confirmation he needed to proceed with what he wanted to do you. His fingers make their want to your core, rubbing figure eights on your clothes cunt underneath your skirt. “Dirty girl, walking into my room with a mini skirt for her guitar lesson. Like youre begging me to fuck you” You grind yourself further into his touch at his words.
He lets out a low chuckle at your neediness. “M’gonna make you feel so good”
“We can stop whenever you want to, just tell me, understood?” he inquires, and your heart flutters at how different his tone is from his last few statements.
“Mkay” you mutter. He pulls your panties to the side, slipping his middle and ring finger to your centre, collecting your slick, and dragging it back up to your clit.
“So wet for me already and i haven’t even done anything yet.” He smirks, ego-boosted from how soaked you were.
Without warning, he shoves a finger into your heat, stroking in and out of you at a slow, yet rough pace. His other hand makes its way up to your torso, sliding under your skirt and cupping your boob in his palm.
“Beomgyu– fuck, feels s-so good” you whine, already losing yourself in the pleasure he’s providing.
“I know baby, i know” he adds, thrusting another finger into your sopping cunt. “Show me how you fuck yourself, play with your clit for me” is the last thing he says before sucking at your neck, surely leaving bruises.
You oblige to his wishes, rubbing feathery circles on your clit. His hand on your chest moves to pinch your nipple, rolling the bud around in circles.
The stimulation from all of it at once causes a coil to form in your lower region. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure this intense. “Think you can handle another finger?” he groans.
“Yes, please” you manage to vocalise.
“You’re so good for me, y/n” he announces before absolutely demolishing your pussy with the abrupt change of pace when there’s a third finger in you. “Good girl” he purs into your nape.
His fingers ram in and out of you hitting your g-spot with every stroke, reeling you closer to your orgasm. “Fuck, baby your clenching so hard on me. Imagine how heavenly this would feel when youre wrapped around my cock”.
“Be an angel and cum for me, pretty” You’re in nirvana when his fingers curl inside of you. “Cumming – fuck, please” you dont even know what youre pleading for, too fucked out to care.
You finish all over his fingers. He continues his movement to let you ride out your orgasm.
After a few minutes, he pulls his fingers out and they glisten with your slick. His eyes beam at the sight. He thinks its the prettiest his hand has ever looked. He draws it to your lips, “open” he utters before pushing his coated fingers into your mouth.
“Tastes good?” he asks, and you nod. “My turn.” he flips you around so that your back is pressed on the bed now, and kisses you. “So fucking sweet, might get addicted y/n, shit” he giggles at the end of his sentence.
"I underestimated how good you are with your fingers." you state breathlessly, causing you to laugh in unison.
He drops beside you, holding your hand and showering it with kisses. You clear your throat, elevating your head to look over at him, and he smiles endearingly at the sight of you. “Class again tomorrow? Same time?” and his eyes widen at your unexpected suggestion.
“Yes, please, yes. Now lets go shower then get tteokbokki, i’m starving.” he gets up, and pulls you gently with him, leading you out of the room to the bathroom.
A/N: not my best work, but i tried
ps: your english is amazing, dont worry about that here haha this is a safe space blog.
#tomorrow x together#beomgyu#txt#kpop#beomgyu smut#txt imagine#choi beomgyu#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu fluff#beomgyu imagines#tubatu#soobibabe
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i would've requested something so much earlier but for some reason your ask box wasn't showing on my mobile at all?? very strange
soo since i was helping my mom assemble some garden chairs recently, how about drabbles about M6 dealing with assembling ikea furniture and how good/bad they're at it:3
The Arcana Drabbles: M6 building IKEA furniture
You'd like to say that you've seen the shop in worse condition, but ... you really haven't. The six adults scattered across the the floor and scrabbling through the pile of flat-pack boxes that arrived earlier aren't helping (though you can tell they're really, really trying to -).
"UGH!" Lucio groans, crumpling an ill-fated leaflet in his golden hand, "this makes no SENSE!"
"Of course it wouldn't," Nadia calmly responds from her chair. Did she drag that out of the back room? "it has writing on it, and I've never seen you patient enough to read."
"I CAN READ -"
"I can't, apparently." Julian hangs his head mournfully over the pile of screws he's laid out. You're pretty sure half the pieces don't belong to the kit he's currently crouched over, and they're arranged in a fashion eerily similar to surgical tools. "The first step calls for piece 'a'! I can't find piece 'a'! How am I supposed to build this if I can't find piece 'a'?"
You step cautiously past Nadia's pristine workspace and peer at Julian's leaflet. You're pretty sure you saw piece 'a' a minute ago scattered in the wreckage that is Lucio's general vicinity and you don't know how to break that news to the languishing doctor.
"Hah! I did it!"
Portia pops up from where she's been sitting behind the counter, triumphantly twirling her little metal screwdriver. "Tadaa! I don't know how to pronounce the official name of this, but here are your new cabinets, oh great magician shopkeeper." She gives you a giggling bow and waves her hand at the finished piece. "Where do you want me to put it?"
"You can leave it where it is for now, I still need to decide - Asra? What's that?"
"Hm?"
The magician looks at you over their shoulder, sitting cross-legged on the countertop with their back hiding whatever it is they're working on against the wall. "I'm almost done."
That's cryptic. "Done with what?"
He smirks. "This." The structure they reveal may have started as furniture, but currently resembles a modern art piece. You don't know what it is.
"What is it?"
"Ah ..." His voice trails off, and he flushes sheepishly. "Well, it's going to be shelves when it's done, I just took the less conventional route." They flash you a dimpled grin. "I'll keep working on it."
It's as you're turning away that you notice piece 'a' must have just been plucked from Lucio's floor space and creatively attached to the structure. Thankfully, Julian still doesn't seem to have noticed.
"WHERE ARE MY PIECES GOING?!"
... however, it seems like Lucio did notice. You approach the whirlwind of screws and random wooden pieces, the ex-count sitting at the center of the chaos like a loud, confused island. "Which pieces are you missing?"
"I don't know! I just took apart the thing I was working on -" he waves his crumpled leaflet with a pout, "- and now I have less than I started with! Asraaa -"
"Don't look in my direction." Asra gives Lucio an uncharacteristically cold scowl and makes a show of pulling piece 'a' from the artwork that is, to their credit, starting to look more like a shelving unit. It drops on the floor and rolls into Julian's pile.
"A-ha! I've found it! You've fled from my grasp for long enough, you scoundrel. Finally, I can begin!" The doctor snatches it up in delight and flips excitedly through his leaflet.
"JULES!" You'd think Lucio had gotten sunburned with how red he's turning.
"I'm pretty sure that wasn't one of your pieces, Lucio. Why don't you show me what the first step was, again?"
Lucio grumbles and begins un-crumpling his instruction manual. It's while he's distracted that you see the large hand reaching into the sea of his pieces and snatching a tiny screw. You follow it back to the corner where its owner has been sitting silently the whole time, and your jaw drops.
Three completed furniture pieces are neatly arranged in a row, a fourth one quickly reaching completion in Muriel's lap. You knew he was a good craftsman, but it's almost like the screws dance into place under his precise touch. You watch him glance at his open manual, spot the cross-shaped piece under Lucio's knee, and then silently snap it up as soon as the ex-count's head is turned. A small, smug smile dances across his bent face when another confused shriek follows shortly after.
"ANOTHER ONE DISAPPEARED! IT WAS CROSS-SHAPED, IT WAS HERE AND NOW IT'S NOT -"
"Silence."
Nadia massages her temples, clearly fighting off a migraine.
"Noddy, I -"
"Enough." Nadia leans back and sighs. She's pulled out a set of trays and organized each unused manual with all the screws and small pieces needed, laid out in order of use. She holds out one hand and Muriel silently flicks the piece she's looking for into her palm - right after pulling it from under Lucio's boot. "I've been taking your pieces, in order to better organize our endeavors."
"Noddy, how could you?!"
"How about some tea? Doesn't that sound nice?!"
Portia's aggressive sunshine smile overrides the growing storm, giving Nadia a moment to massage her temples and momentarily cowing Lucio. You smile. "Tea sounds nice right now."
Portia claps her hands, skipping around the counter. "Great! Do you have any snacks?"
You shake your head slowly. "I ran out this morning, but if anyone wants to buy cookies I can give you some -"
"Cookies?!" Lucio stands bolt upright, heading straight for the door. "Don't worry about it! I'll get them!"
The door slams shut behind him and the room is suddenly quiet, his excited shouting fading around an outside street corner. To your surprise, it's Muriel who breaks the silence.
"Cookies? ... that's all it takes?"
#ask arcana brainrot#the arcana#the arcana game#the arcana drabble#the arcana imagine#the arcana fanfic#asra the arcana#julian the arcana#nadia the arcana#muriel the arcana#portia the arcana#lucio the arcana#asra alnazar#julian devorak#nadia satrinava#muriel of the kokhuri#portia devorak#lucio morgasson
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Have you ever tried or heard of the "Buldak Spicy Noodles Challenge?" Its made in Korea and it has many different spice levels & flavors, ranging from 1920 SHU to 10,000 scoville units. What would it be like if the reader (Replacement Fighter) who enjoys eating it without breaking a sweat, introduced the noodles to the RoR characters & made them eat it? Who would be just fine & who would immediately tap out, grabbing a bucket of ice cream or milk? (You can add in other characters too)
Gods: Odin, Thor, Hades, Poseidon, Loki, Rudra, Shiva, Buddha & Apollo
Humans: Sasaki, Lubu, Tesla & Leo
I love Buldak! I’ve tried the normal spicy and I will admit that it is very spicy, but also refreshing in a sense and I love eating it. I will not be trying the death by spicy one, as I like my mouth not being burned away, lol.
-It started off with some curiosity, as they had seen you eating a thing of pot noodles, they were bright red and a specific scent seemed to hang in the air, something spicy.
-When you turned, still slurping up the noodles, seeing them looking at you with curiosity on their faces, you stood up and walked over to your pantry, “Sorry I forgot you guys were coming. Want some?”
-As you asked this, you opened your pantry, revealing more of the pot noodles, as in your whole pantry was stuffed with them. A few had to question how you were so healthy if you ate instant noodles all the time, but you ignored them, just starting the kettle again.
-Once the noodles were ready and everyone was sitting around the living room with you, you continued eating, after making yourself a second helping, to eat alongside everyone else.
-A few took a sniff of the noodles, Poseidon, Nikola, and Apollo, who all were instantly coughing, smelling the intense spice.
-A few had worried looks on their faces, sending panicked glances to each other before they all dug in.
-SPICY!!!! Immediately choking and rushing to the sink or trash can to spit it out, coughing from the intense spice, raiding your fridge for drinks, anything they could get their hands on, including just ice cubes. How could you eat that with a straight face!!
-Poseidon, Apollo, Nikola, and Loki
-Okay this is really spicy, manages to get through the first bite, but not the second, as their face was quickly turning red, and quickly joined the others in the kitchen, demanding your ice tray to suck on some ice as well.
Odin, Buddha, Hades, and Kojiro
-Isn’t going to be a bitch and wimp out, he is going to finish this challenge and prove that it’s not that spicy!! By the time he finishes, his face his bright red, his tongue is out as he can’t feel it and is pretty sure he’s burning from the inside out. Accepts your ice cream, after you finished yours, with panicked haste.
-Leonidas, Lu Bu, and Thor
-This is really taste and is able to casually eat it like you. Yeah it’s spicy, but it’s doable- it’s quite refreshing actually. The others can only stare at you and them with horror on their faces, as you pulled out the three times as spicy one, asking if they wanted to try it. To everyone’s horror, the three of you eat that one no problem, but admit that this one is spicy. Ya’ll a bunch of freaks.
-Rudra and Shiva
#record of ragnarok#ror x reader#ror poseidon#ror apollo#ror nikola tesla#ror loki#ror odin#ror buddha#ror kojiro sasaki#ror leonidas#ror lu bu#ror thor#ror hades#ror shiva#ror rudra
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hellllllllloooo your writing is great. Might I request the scared reader that you did but with Scara?
ah this was such an interesting request! i went a little more along the route of Wanderer instead of Scara but if you'd like Scaramouche, when he was in his fatui phase, i can always write that as well :D
Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against ones will, implied kidnapping, implied forced Stockholm syndrome, restrictions around food and meals, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!
If this was pre-erasure then Scaramouche would understand, he’s got a reputation, he’s known for things, regardless of how much he’s come to regret them. If this were post-erasure though, it would be a whole different story. He understands that while he has lost the intimidating, scary reputation he once had, he’s in turn taken on a mysterious, unknown one.
He doesn’t like that you’re scared of him, especially when there’s nothing to be afraid of. Wanderer finds himself angry and confused, he doesn’t know how to make you stop being afraid of him, he can only remember how to be feared, desperate to avoid getting hurt again. And it’s not like he can just go around asking how to make you get over your silly fears. He spends a lot of time pacing around the room he keeps you in, muttering to himself and making exaggerated hand gestures. It takes him a while to come up with a plan, one that he really thinks will work, but when he does finally have his plan together, it’s impossible to change his mind on it.
It’s not his greatest plan, hell it wasn’t even a good plan, but it was the only thing he could see actually working. It’s slow at first, barely noticeable when he starts cutting back on your meals, serving slightly smaller and smaller sections each time until it becomes too obvious to ignore. He restricts you to the single room even more so than before. No more free range of the home, no more looking out the windows or even going to the nice bathroom, now if you have to go, you use the bucket. Wanderer plans to slowly break you down until you cave, begging and crying and pleading, saying you’ll do anything for some more food, for a proper bathroom, for some sunlight.
He stands in the corner, watching as you stare at the plated meal in front of you. It could hardly be considered a proper meal, barely enough to feed a young child, it would certainly not be enough to satiate you, and he knows that. Wanderer gives you just enough to keep you from falling ill, but so little that your stomach crawls in hunger, hands clutching at your sides as you lay awake, praying for it to settle just long enough to get some sleep. He may not be a human, but he certainly understands how they work, he knows what they crave most and what depriving them of basic needs will do.
“I could get you more if you’d like.” He sees the way you stare at him, like he’d grown three more heads, and it makes a small part of his chest tingle in excitement. Wanderer can see you hesitate, wanting more but knowing the price it comes at, the tears that well in your eyes as your head hangs low, a small nod leaving you.
He’s practically vibrating in excitement when you finally give in, letting him hold you close without fighting in exchange for more food. From there it continues to escalate, no longer does he wait for you to give in, instead he slowly starts returning things to normal and being as close and affectionate with you as he desires. If you should go back to fighting and screaming again then you can expect him to remove all your ‘privileges’ again. Wanderer will repeat the process over and over again until you give in for a final time, even if it breaks you.
#genshin x reader#genshin x male reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin x male reader#yandere genshin x gender neutral reader#wanderer x reader#wanderer x male reader#wanderer x gender neutral reader#yandere wanderer x reader#yandere wanderer x male reader#yandere wanderer x gender neutral reader#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x male reader#scaramouche x gender neutral reader#yandere scaramouche x reader#yandere scaramouche x gender neutral reader#yandere scaramouche x male reader#yandere genshin#yandere wanderer#yandere scaramouche
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- ,, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
SUMMARY -> satochoso x reader (choso x satoru x reader) where satoru is on a long mission. its just you and choso at home,and its really... quiet without satoru. you miss him - that's obvious, but choso misses him more than he'd like to admit. he acts all tough and acts like he doesn't really miss him, but its pretty obvious that's a lie.
A/N -> wowoowowow my first jjk fic!! i hope this is good and i havent proofread this so there might be mistakes, and i cant even bear to read my own writing anyway cuz wtf its so cringey reading my stuff and i dont like this too much anyway. and i havent written anything in ages so i might be a lil rusty... also i never specified the readers gender (I THINK) so gn!reader!!
Dating the strongest sorcerer obviously came with challenges. He'd be away constantly on missions, which were life or death, meaning you didn't see him as often as you'd like. One good part about it though is that he never came back beaten or bruised. All the curses he fought were nothing compared to him - like ants he'd tread on.
Luckily for you, you were never alone when he was gone. You had some very good company from your boyfriend. Well, your other boyfriend, because you had two. Of course Satoru was one, but the other was Choso. His tough guy exterior always meant he never showed signs of missing Satoru. He usually just went around with his usual schedule and comforted you if you were missing the sorcerer.
So Satoru was on another one of those dreadfully long missions now. You weren't worried about anything happening to him, of course. You just wanted him home soon. It didn't look like the mission would allow that, unfortunately.
The house felt empty and lifeless without him. He would often follow you around everywhere, accompanying you, or Choso, in whatever mundane task you set yourself to. His energetic voice would be the only thing breaking the silence.
It felt odd not having that voice accompany you as you were regularly sitting down in the living room. You could only really sit there in silence, head in your hands. The room's silence was awkward and almost deafening.
Of course Choso was sitting on the opposite side. He could barely take the silence. He looked at you, wondering if he should say anything. You did look like you needed a bit of comfort.
So he clears his throat, leaning toward you.
"You okay?" He mutters. He's not sure how to start a conversation.
"Yeah," You respond, turning your head to look at him. "are you?"
"Yeah," Choso says. Fuck, that was awkward. He curses himself in his head and decides to ask something else. "are you missing him?"
"Of course I am." You sigh, but you smile at him.
Choso always likes to make out that he's a big tough guy that never misses his boyfriend when he's on a long mission. He can handle himself, he can do everything himself, he's fine without him. He's independant. But you don't buy this for a second.
"Are you?"
"I'm fine." He says. He answers a little too fast. "I mean - I'm fine without him. I can function without him."
Yeah right. You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.
"Yeah right. I see the way you mope around when he's gone." You say.
It's true. He does mope around when Satoru's gone. There's no more voice in his ear narrating everything he does, teasing the life out of him, when Satoru is away. It seems so silent, so lifeless. He can't help hanging his head.
"Fine - but you mope around as well." He doesn't even try to defend himself at this. If you can call him out for moping around, he can too. He crosses his arms.
"Yeah, but I don't pretend I don't miss my boyfriend." You retort.
Maybe he does miss him a lot. He doesn't like to look clingy or needy, which is why he always denies that he misses Satoru. He just decides to change the topic. You've won that one.
"He's supposed to be home today, right?" Choso says. He doesn't like to admit it, but he's been counting down the days.
"Is he?" You say, perking up. It feels like forever since he left.
"Yeah. I checked this morning." He says.
"And when exactly is he home?" You question further.
"... Late. He's going to be home late." Choso says.
It feels like forever since that conversation with Choso. What time is it now? 6 PM? It feels pretty late, but not that late. Time just seems to drag on no matter what. You're just waiting for the sound of the door handle's click and for it to swing open and have Satoru's voice call out.
You're imagining it. You've imagined it - the door swings open, he calls out, and you and Choso run into his arms and-
Your thoughts are interrupted by the click of the door handle. You perk up - Choso does too - and you both get up and head toward the front door. The door swings open, and the familiar tall figure of Satoru strides in.
He's instantly greeted by your arms swinging around his neck. He loudly chuckles. He doesn't even seem fazed by the sudden hug. He wraps his arms around you in return, kissing your cheek.
You can't see him, but you know he looks up for Choso. He eyes him under his blindfold with a smirk.
"C'mon." Satoru says, lifting his arm out while his other arm still hold you.
"No." Choso says, crossing his arms. Satoru pouts.
"Pleasseeee? I can't have a hug with my favourite partners without my favourite boy."
Choso mutters something under his breath. Despite this, he approaches with his arms outstretched. Satoru's face lights up. He literally grabs Choso's wrist and tugs him into the hug. He looks delighted.
The hug lasts a while. That's because nobody wants to pull away. Nobody wants out of the hug. It's amazingly quiet. Choso isn't complaining and Satoru isn't going on about how much he missed both of you. It's just dead silent. You're just enjoying each other's company.
But you have to let go eventually. Satoru eases his arms off you and Choso.
"Now, what have you been up to while I was gone?" Satoru questions. But he sees the looks on your faces and his smile grows even wider. "So you missed me so much you didn't even go out?"
Choso crosses his arms.
"Aw," Satoru grins. He looks so proud of himself. "But I think I'm gonna go unwind. You'll be fine without me for a little, right?" He says, looking between you two.
"Yeah," Choso responds.
"Great. I'll be back in a few minutes." He says, grinning.
As he walks off, he pauses just after walking past both of you. He turns on his heel and goes back to the both of you, kissing your cheek and then Choso's. After this, he turns back around and leaves to go unwind.
#RAAAAGH#its finally done. woaow#hope u guys liked that.... it was pretty rushed so i dont even like it much myself unfortunately....... 💔#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#choso kamo#fanfic#fanfiction#writing#jjk x reader#jjk x you#choso x you#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#choso#satoru#gojo#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satochoso#satochoso x reader#satoru x choso x reader#gojo x choso x reader#anime
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Our Little Secret (Part 46)
Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader
Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers
A week had passed since your abrupt departure from Los Angeles with your daughter Mara, spending all your savings on an earlier economy class flight to Dublin.
You had to get away from Cillian as quickly as possible for now, to clear your head, and to decide what your next steps would be.
Cillian, of course, had begged you to stay while he attended a few more press events and interviews, but you didn't even wait for him to explain himself to you. Immediately after hanging up the phone with Amanda, you had stormed through the hotel suite, bursting into tears silently as you packed a small bag, preparing to leave.
Over the next few days, right after you took the long journey back home with Mara, you struggled to process everything that had happened. Cillian tried to call you over and over again, but you never answered his calls.
You wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry, to break something—to do anything that would allow you to release the intense pain that he had caused, but you knew that Mara was depending on you.
***
"It's just you and me now babygirl," you whispered into Mara's ear one evening as you tucked her into bed, trying to embrace the role of a single mother bravely. After all, you always knew that this possibility loomed in the background, even when you naively thought that you were destined to be with him forever.
You couldn't believe how blind you had been, allowing yourself to fully invest in someone who had already shown you time and time again that he couldn't be counted on.
You couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at you, promising you a future together, making you feel cherished and loved, only to betray your trust in the most deceitful way.
You felt a hot tear trickle down your cheek as you buried your face into Mara's soft curls. It wasn't fair. You didn't deserve this pain, this heartbreak. But, as you listened to Mara's steady breathing, you knew that you couldn't give in to despair.
"Karma is a real bitch," you then thought to yourself, seeing how Cillian and you had started out as an affair too. He was cheating on his wife with you and now you were the one who was being cheated on.
The raw pain cut through you like a hot knife, sharp and searing. Cillian's face flashed through your mind, taunting you with the broken promises and lies that only the innocent fall victim to.
Returning to the living room you noticed a vehicle parking outside on the street in front of your little terrace house. It was a small Crolla, a car that was very familiar to you and which belonged to no other than Cillian's sister Siobhan.
You weren't expecting a visit from her, especially not in the wee hours of the night, but you didn't mind. She was one of the rare people you could count on these days even though she was a member of Cillian's family.
Quickly, you dried your tears and went to open the door. Siobhan stood there with a serious expression on her face.
"Hey," she greeted, but even her warm voice did nothing to mitigate the heavy feeling that pressed onto your heart still. "Can I come in?" she asked, and you stepped aside to let her walk past you.
You noticed that she was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands. "I figured we could both do with a drink tonight," she added while she placed her possessions on your dining table.
You hesitated for a moment before closing the door and joining her. "You have no idea," you sighed, leaning against the back of one of the chairs.
Siobhan gave you a concerned look before pouring you a generous glass of wine. "Oh, I think I do. I saw Amanda today and, fuck, Cillian didn't even tell me about any of this because, if he had, I would have come to see you sooner Y/N. I am so sorry," she muttered, exasperated.
"It's okay, really. There was nothing you could have done," you shrugged, sipping on the wine like it was water. It burned your throat as it went down, but it somehow made you feel a little better.
"No, it's not. I know how much this must have hurt you Y/N. My brother can be such an idiot sometimes, but he does love you, you know?" Siobhan told you, causing you to cry and laugh all at the same time.
"If he really loves me then , why did he cheat on me?" you asked, your voice cracking with emotion.
"Because he was hurt when you knocked down his proposal," Siobhan told you, explaining Cillian's turmoil to you. "And he acted impulsively which, really, is no excuse for what he did. It's just an explanation," she told you, but you no longer cared.
"Well, it doesn't change anything now. I'm done with him," you informed her, your voice shaking a little as the reality set in.
"But-" Siobhan started to protest, but you stopped her.
"No. This is not what I want anymore," you sighed, running a hand through your hair as Mara slept peacefully in her bed upstairs. "I am better of alone and, honestly, our arrangement still stands. He will support me and Mara financially and he will get shared care, just like I had promised him. Nothing more and nothing less," you concluded firmly while taking another sip of your wine, watching Siobhan frown concernedly in return.
"You know Y/N, I never gave you enough credit in the past for how mature you actually are, especially for your age. You are much more of an adult than most of my clients and you are certainly much more mature than my almost fifty-year-old brother," Siobhan finally shared, but it wasn't enough to stop you from hurting still.
***
The following days passed slowly, with you trying to rebuild yourself and your life. It hurt like hell, to be back in the city that reminded you so much of Cillian and the times the two of you had spent together, but you didn't have much of a choice.
He came over one day to pick up Mara just as you had agreed upon when he came back from LA. Wen he arrived he also wanted to talk to you about what happened but you refused and did not even let him through the door.
"No Cillian. Like I said in my text message last night, all that matters now is Mara," you told him face to face now that he stood in front of your door. "You can see her three days a week, no nights for now and I do not want any contact with you unless it relates to our child," you continued with a clear, firm voice, making a strict compromise so that he could spend at least a little time with Mara until she was ready to stay at his house over night.
Cillian nodded and seemed surprisingly accepting of your conditions.
"Okay," he told you as you both stood at the front door of the house for a minute before Cillian finally reached out and gently touched Mara's cheek.
"Do you want to take her while I get her pram and bag?" you offered to Cillian who, again, nodded silently. With a heavy heart, you handed Mara over to the man that you loved dearly, but who had betrayed your trust.
Cillian took Mara into his arms and looked down at her happily as she babbled at him, giggling after he spoke her name. "She has grown so much even in those few days," he remarked, his voice thick with emotion.
"She sure has," you told him. "Now, do you have enough milk in the freezer for her? I left some there the last time I visited you last. It's all dated and labelled, just make sure you heat it up right, okay?" you added, trying to keep your voice steady and authoritative, even though you wanted nothing more than to break down and weep.
Cillian looked up at you with a pained expression on his face. "I will make sure to do that," he told you, tears welling up in his eyes.
You nodded and turned away from him before he could see the sadness creeping up on you. "Okay Cillian. I expect her back by seven. Don't be late," you said softly before pushing the pram and baby bag on to the front porch. Cillian took them without a word and stepped outside. He looked at Mara again, a lingering longing in his eyes, a feeling that was all too familiar to you.
You closed the door softly and leant your head against it. The emptiness in the house suddenly felt bigger, suffocating almost. But you had to get used to it now. This was your life from now on.
***
The next few weeks were tough, but you made it through them with the support of Siobhan and your mother as well as your best friend Emma who suggested a night out while Mara had her first sleepover at Cillian's house, which was something that made you panic.
You never not had Mara with you over night, it had always been the two of you, or sometimes even the three of you. But, after careful consideration and speaking with Cillian about it, you finally agreed to it with a certain hesitancy.
As you stepped out of your house, ready to meet Emma for your long-anticipated girls' night, you took a deep breath and tried to remember who you were before Mara entered your life.
The thought caused a wry smile to grace your lips and, with a spring in your step, you continued down the path towards the small car that your friend drove as she picked you up along with some other girls from her class.
They were all about your age, but none of them lived the way you did. You were a single mother living in the suburbs while they were all single and sharing a flat in the city.
They were out partying and hooking up with guys while you were home, changing diapers and reading bedtime stories. They were having the time of their lives, while you often wondered if this was all that life had in store for you.
But as you slipped into the passenger seat of Emma's small car, you felt a sense of excitement that you hadn't experienced in a long time. You were ready to let loose and have some fun, and you knew that Emma and the others would make it an unforgettable night.
"Holy shit, you are looking good," Tina, one of the other girls you still knew from school days, remarked as she climbed into the backseat, and you couldn't help but feel a little boost to your confidence. You thanked her with a smile while Emma glanced at you from the driver seat, smirking triumphantly while you pulled out your phone to text Cillian, ensuring that Mara was comfortable and okay.
"She will be fine, Y/N. She is at her dad's house, remember? He is old enough to look after her. You need to stop worrying," Emma assured you as she navigated through traffic, making her way into the heart of Dublin, where the bustling nightlife came alive.
"I know, it's just -" you started to mumble but then stopped, letting out a quiet sigh. You couldn't deny the fact that leaving Mara behind on her first sleepover with Cillian was hard. It was unfair, you thought, that parents shouldn't experience the pang of abandonment when it comes to leaving their child behind while Tina chimed in, quickly changing the topic after Emma told you again that Mara would be just fine.
"Hey Y/N. I am curious. Does he pay for your house and car?" Tina asked, a hint of jealousy tinging her voice. You weren't close to her, but you knew that, especially after your public appearance at the Oscars, which had now been almost ten weeks ago, many of the girls you knew had been talking about nothing else but you and Cillian. After all, he was super famous now and you had his child and not many women could claim that status.
"Well, yes he does, because I am a student, just like you Tina," you replied, suppressing the irritation in your voice. "And we had a child together, so it seems fair," you justified yourself and feeling a little nervous about exposing too much information and stirring up unnecessary envy among your former classmates.
"I suppose you have it easy then," Tina said, still showing an envy-filled tone in her voice. "My mother never even got child support from my dad," she added, causing a heavy silence to fall over the car as Emma glanced at Tina sternly in the rearview mirror.
"Things are different now, Tina. Cillian is -," Emma chastised but, before she could continue, you interrupted her.
"Can we just stop talking about my ex now and focus on our night out?" you requested, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.
Emma nodded in agreement and changed the topic, talking about her last date and the awkward ending that it had while the girls in the back seat listened attentively and added their own commentary on the subject, making jokes and trying to make each other laugh.
You tried to focus on the conversation but couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of sadness as you thought about Cillian and the life you had once imagined for yourselves.
You had hoped to grow old together, raising Mara and making memories as a happy little family, but fate had other plans.
Your mind wandered as you entered a crowded dance club, clinging to your drink as you tried to push aside the thoughts that threatened to consume you. The beat of the music pulsed around you, vibrating in your chest as you moved to the rhythm, trying to lose yourself in the seductive sounds filling the air.
But the despair that tugged at your heart wouldn't let you go, no matter how hard you tried to shake it off.
It clung to you like a persistent shadow, a constant reminder of what you had lost, and you pulled out your phone again, texting Cillian, to see whether Mara was fine.
He quickly responded, of course, telling you that she had already fallen asleep and that he was having a great time, spending time with her. It was then, in the dimly lit club, that you realized that this was your new reality, which is when, suddenly, a young attractive man bumped into you, spilling his drink all over your black dress.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you clean this up," he said, sprinting away to the bar and returning with a wad of napkins and a sympathetic smile.
The unexpected kindness in his large, green eyes touched you somewhere deep within your soul, and you couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of warmth and attraction ignite between you.
"Thank you," you murmured as you took the proffered napkins, still feeling the anxious tension of uncertainty in your stomach after receiving Cillian's text about your adorable daughter sleeping soundly in his arms and it was then when he even sent you a photo of her, a gesture which you appreciated.
Just as you looked at the phone the man nodded with a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with interest and curiosity as, at the same time as handling your phone, you nervously tried to dab the spilled liquid from your dress without causing further damage.
"You look like you're having quite the night here," he persisted, attempting to keep up a friendly conversation as you glanced at your phone before putting it back into your handbag.
"Yes, I haven't been out in a while," you replied, smiling at the stranger's persistence as he still stood there, looking at you.
"Really?" he asked. "Why?" he asked, genuinely surprised by your admission as you continued to wipe away the residual drink stain on your dress.
"Well, I had a baby -," you began to say before shaking your head, realizing that this must have been the worst pick up line ever. The man blinked a few times, his eyebrows shooting up towards his unkempt brown hairline, but he didn't falter. Instead, he dug his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels, a friendly half-smile on his lips.
"You had a baby? For real?" he inquired inquisitively, maintaining a friendly and interested facial expression. "I mean, you don't look a day over twenty-one," he complimented you.
"Well, I am not," you chuckled. "I am twenty-one, actually," you confessed, feeling vulnerable and exposed all of a sudden.
But the stranger, who introduced himself as Sean, only seemed more intrigued. "Wow, you had a baby already? That's impressive," he admitted, hoping he hadn't dwelled too much.
You nodded, flustered by the attention. "It's not easy but, hey, life happens," you shrugged, determined to keep it light.
"I assume you don't have kids?" you asked, curious, wondering out loud without considering the fact that this topic might be slightly weird for a twenty-something year old man.
"No , I don't. Not yet anyway," he answered with a small laugh, shaking his head ever so slightly, causing his mop of hair to bounce wildly on his head.
"Well then, I guess I just told you way too much about me, huh?" you asked, feeling a hint of shame creep up your neck and onto your face.
Sean smiled at you genuinely and kindly, his eyes fixing on yours, a connection forming between you two. He shrugged.
"Not really. I mean, you know, things happen and I -," the man began to say before awkwardly telling you about himself. "I am 27 and just finished a degree in engineering. I only just moved to Dublin a few weeks ago and, uhm, I am single and would really like to buy you a drink, if you let me," he stammered. "Unless, of course, you actually have a man in your life, because you had a baby and stuff, so if the father is around then forget about what I just said," he added, catching a whiff of disappointment in his voice.
You smiled and shook your head. "My daughter's father is out of the picture," you told him honestly, softening your eyes as you observed him moving closer to you.
"Great, so what are you drinking?" he asked and, with that, you knew where this was going.
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#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy#cillian murphy fanfic#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy fic
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Se nos rompió el amor
CHAPTER 3
Summary: You thought your love was strong and could conquer everything, I guess you were wrong...
Warnings: implied age gap, mentions of pregnancy, mention of symptoms of pregnancy, adorable father and daughter in law interactions, angst, awkwardness.
Rating: +18
Word count: 1.4k (sorry this one is short)
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Masterlist
Divider by @saradika-graphics
It had been two months since you left Colombia and Javi behind; after a good long talk with Chucho the day after you landed on Laredo, you moved to the ranch´s guest room. Chucho hadn't been anything but kind and excited for the arrival of his grandkid. In these two months, you had already felt so close to him, he had hold your hair in the mornings while you suffered from morning sickness, you almost had to fight him so he would let you help around the ranch, on the mornings that you would wake up later, he would already left on the kitchen counter a coffee just like you like it, somehow still steaming like he had just done it.
You had decided to not contact Javi in these two months, but you knew that the change from one weekly phone call to now two or even three wasn't a coincidence, you even heard Chucho once talking with him on the kitchen phone, how he was telling Javi about your symptoms.
According to the local doctor´s calculations, you were on week 13 of your pregnancy. If it weren't for the morning sickness and the sometimes migraine, you wouldn't even remember that you are expecting.
It's around 6pm when you're preparing some dinner for both you and Chucho in the ranch´s kitchen, Chucho was staying until later working on the ranch chores since there had been an incident with one of the cows earlier on the day, you´re listening to a tango, Garufa by Malevaje, on your favorite spanish radio station while humming alongside it. You can remember your grandfather, your dad's dad, singing that tango all the time when you were little and then later about your dad teaching you the lyrics when you were a teen and your grandad had passed away.
The kitchen phone startles you when it starts to ring, you wipe your hands on the yellow apron you´re wearing and then walk across the kitchen to pick up the phone.
“Peña´s ranch” you say while keeping an eye on the bubbling sauce by the kitchen fires. You only hear an intake of air on the other side of the phone call but nothing more, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion “someone there?” the person on the other end clears their throat before saying your name, Javi´s voice being revealed to be the person calling.
“I was expecting pops…” before you have a chance to apologize and offer to go looking for Chucho, he asks “How are you? Pops said that the sickness was getting tough…”
“Umm… Yeah, yes” it's your turn to clear your throat “it's getting hard to cook anything without gagging lately” you let out an awkward chuckle.
“Mrs. Alvarez told me that when she had her sons, ginger worked great for her morning sickness” It surprises you that he even mentioned to the elderly woman, from the fruit stand that you both used to always buy from, about your pregnancy.
“Oh, I…I´ll try it” after a `good´ from him, an uncomfortable and awkward silence falls between you two “I got to go Javier, I have a sauce on the stove…” you break the silence making Javi regret not breaking it himself so he could keep you on the phone a little longer.
“Yeah, claro (sure), just tell pops to phone me when he can i guess” he curses himself as soon as he says it for not coming up with something that would make you stay on the call a bit longer. A small silence falls between you yet again before you hang the phone again on the wall.
Your hand goes to the swell on your stomach and you let out a sigh, you realize that a tear has escaped your eye when it hits your lips. You sniff and wipe your eyes, then you try to stabilize yourself with a deep breath to continue the dinner.
Later that night when Chucho and you are on the table eating the dinner that you had made, you put down your fork and swallow your bite of food.
“Javi called earlier…” you inform him while fidgeting with a crumb on the table. Chucho stops his fork mid air and puts it down as well.
“Oh… I'll call him after we are finished” he answers without giving it much more thought, to take tension from the situation. You decide to finally clear your doubts.
“Does he…does he ever ask about me or the baby?” you ask with nervous eating you.
This proves to be something that hits Chucho hard because he sits straight on his chair and takes a sip of his beer to clear his throat.
“No te confundas mija (Don't confuse yourself mija), Javier loves you and that baby more than anything, but you found a troubled man, corazón (heart)” he reaches across the kitchen table to hold your hand and give a squeeze “I'm not justifying him, will never do it, eso solo me haría un mal padre (that would only make me a bad father), but I know Javier is a man that carries a lot of trauma with him. He doesn't talk about it much, but he has done things done there that would make both of our stomachs turn, he needs for all of that to mean something, mija”
You weren't oblivious, after all you lived with Javier and you had seen what his job did to him personally. But you had never thought of it like that, of everything needing to have meaning to him. Javier had opened up to you about his trauma with mother, how he blamed himself everyday of her death, saying that no good son wold live her mother´s side when she gets diagnosed with a cancer, how him not being there was like another illness for her, how it made her only worse; you obviously told him that that was all in his head, that he was a loving son, you could see it and hear it when he would talk to Chucho over the phone, that his mother would´ve of never blame him for anything, that she understood Javier, bt Javier was convinced of his truth so all you could was hold him and comfort him.
“Si hay alguien en el mundo (if there´s someone in this world) that i'll always know, that' s my child, mija. You´ll understand it in not too long yourself” he gives your hand another squeeze, so your gaze that had fallen to you plate goes back to his own “And i know that my Javier loves my grandchild more than anything in his entire life, in a way he even feels that what he is doing is for the good of his child…”
That only brings tears to your eyes, you try to contain but you already know that Chcho can see them. Your hand is the one squeezing Chucho´s, you take off the napkin resting on your lap and put it on the table, then you separate your hand from his.
“I think i'm not hungry anymore, if you don't mind, I think i'll go and rest a bit” you say with a choking voice. trying to not burst into sobs in front of your child's abuelo.
Chucho immediately understands and nods “Of course, mija. No te preocupes por los trastes (Don't worry about the dishes)” he tells you with the try of a comforting smile.
You don't answer anything back and quickly make your way to your designated room.
Once the door of your room is closed and your back is pressed to it, a hand goes to your chest and you try to get the tears to go away. You want to blame them on your pregnancy hormones but you know that even you couldn't believe that.
Closing your eyes you can see yourself and Javi on the couch of your shared apartment in Colombia, sharing an ice cream tub due to the excruciating heat of summer while watching a soap opera and laughing together at how silly it was.
Your heart can't help but to hurt inside your ribcage, hurting because your happy memories with Javier now only bring tears to your eyes and sadness to your heart…
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#narcos fanfiction#narcos#pedro pascal x reader#chucho peña narcos#narcos javier peña#javier peña#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña x female reader#javier peña x reader#javier pena#javier pena x f!hispanic reader#javier peña x f!hispanic reader#javier pena x f!reader#javier pena x female reader#javier pena fic#narcos javier pena#javier peña fic
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