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akunya · 1 year

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eiiiiii the idea of getting private meeting with camboy vox HELLO. you make me suffer for good stuffs every single day 😭💦 can you spoil me a little bittttt. - 🐱

“private session.”

pairings: camboy!vox akuma x male!reader

summary: congrats, lucky winner! because of your generous donations, vox reached out wanting to thank you in person. things, however, take a turn.

tw: DRUGGING, yandere, manipulation, voice fetish. camshows, drinking, implied noncon. age gap, etc.

notes: last fic of 2022! im posting this mere minutes from midnight, so please pardon any mistakes. ill go back and edit this a bit later.

and yes, i can write a part 2 if you truly wish. sorry for cucking you guys, again..

happy new year everyone, thank you for such an amazing 2022. i hope to write much more in the future!

“im at the right place, aren’t i..?” you mumbled to yourself, frigid, clammy hands swiping your phone to make sure the location was right. the restaurant looked a bit trendy and sophisticated, somewhere you wouldn't dare step inside on your own. you and vox both agreed on a restaurant to meet at around eight o'clock. to be truly honest with yourself, you never thought you’d have the guts to do something like this — but when vox, the streamer who you’ve been watching for months daily and donating to everyday reached out to you personally, how could you say no?

nonetheless, sitting across from him at the table really made you wish you had refused.

for one, he was much too ethereal to be in your lowly presence. the camera didn’t do him justice at all — his pale skin was a nice contrast to his black hair, adorned by his signature red highlights. he even wore the red eye makeup that you loved to look at, except now, you could see his mouth and bottom half of his face, uncovered by the black mask he would usually wear. his lips looked so soft, and when his tongue darted out to lick them you were nearly going to faint. we’re those.. fangs? his canines were sharp, and you felt like a pervert for staring so intensely.

you quickly paid your respects to the other fans who would never know that vox, a niche but popular adult streamer, was a truly beautiful man in person.

you didn't even notice how silent it had gotten between the two of you. “no need to be so quiet. i don’t bite, i promise.” vox’s sweet voice snapped you out of your thoughts, apologizing profusely for zoning out so much. “you’re right! im sorry, ive just never done anything like this before..” you chuckled awkwardly, shifting in your chair while vox just smiled. he found your skittishness adorable. you reminded him of a scared little bunny — and he was the big bad wolf, ready to eat you up whole.

"what a shame. and here i was thinking you do this quite often, with how you accepted my request and all." the demon smirked at how your face flushed, becoming a stuttering mess. you should've expected it, but he was just as snarky in person as he was on his live shows. as your little meeting continued, vox realized he enjoyed your presence much more than he thought. the night was filled with friendly but interesting conversation, and for once, the demon didn’t feel forced to keep speaking.

at first, he debated on meeting with you in person. what if the person who donated nearly thousands to him each month turned out to be not as pleasant as he hoped? while the demon wouldn't be surprised, he would be a tad disappointed with all of the free shoutouts he's given to you. still, with you being his top donator for a while now, he felt compelled to show some form of graciousness. a little present, just in time for the holidays.

vox enjoyed streaming more than he thought he would. even though he could use his voice and other demonic powers for much grander, sinister things - for some reason, using them to tease and drain the wallets of his viewers was surprisingly just as satisfying. doing this, he never had to worry about getting a silly job like most humans did, letting the demon truly relax when he wasnt tampering with cameras and himself.

but, you, however - vox liked how shy and nervous you were. it awakened a sick monster inside of him, that wanted to see you cry and beg for mercy at his fingertips. he thought his days of toying with mortals was over, but unfortunately (or fortunately?) for you, you seemed to rekindle that fire in his heart. if he didn't know any better, he would've never expected you to be someone that watches adult streams online, let alone spend money on them.

taking advantage of how anxious you were, vox continued to ask questions about yourself, forcing you to blurt out answers in hopes of not screwing up. "so, what do you like about my streams, y/n?" the male swiveled the wine in his glass nonchalantly, golden eyes looking into yours, awaiting an answer. you gulped, shakily drinking yours as well.

"um, well, you're the first streamer i've ever really watched for.. that sort of stuff. i initially liked how your voice sounded, and wanted to hear more, but i ended up staying for your little stories and when you'd talk about yourself. you just seemed really nice." it was a bit embarrassing when you had said it aloud, but it was the truth. you enjoyed the moments where the demon would just ramble the most. of course, given the content of his streams, most of the things he'd speak about were so dirty it made your ears feel hot - however, there were moments where he'd just talk about his day, and you seemed to enjoy those the most.

it was vox's turn to blush, his grip tightening on the wine glass ever so slightly. how could a mere mortal make him feel so... flustered? hes had his fair share of affairs over many decades, however, never has he felt so vulnerable. the demon was expecting you to talk about his cock or something, but of course your innocent little head wouldnt do that. you should be thankful vox isn't a cannibalistic demon, or he seriously would've eaten your heart out by now.

therefore, the man didnt feel any remorse when you went to the bathroom and he slipped a drug into your drink while you were away.

it wasnt his fault - how was he supposed to let you go after today? someone as sinless and pure as yourself needed to be his. vox wouldnt be content with letting you go back to being another viewer behind the screen, not after your little meeting. the demon knew truly that you probably wouldn't refuse going home with him, but that also didnt guarantee you'd accept his offer. he considered the drug just a bit of a push in the right direction, if you will.

"sorry for taking so long. there was a line outside, so.." your voice trailed off, going back to your seat as the older man simply chuckled. why did you feel the need to explain yourself? it didn't matter how long you took, even if you tried to run now, vox would surely find you. pouring some more wine for himself, he filled his glass a bit more to match yours. you tried to tell him you weren't too keen or interested in alcohol at the beginning of your little date, but the demon wouldn't take no for an answer. "y/n, lets have a toast, shall we?" his held up his glass expectantly towards you, waiting for you to clink the rim with your own.

you hesitated for a moment. the smell of wine never enticed you, but seeing vox wait earnestly made your heart flutter. one glass shouldn't hurt, right?

you simply nodded, the familiar clank of glass against glass being shared between you two before drinking. you drank a majority of the wine, only leaving a small amount left. "good boy. its good, isnt it?" you nearly sputtered the drink back up from the praise, nodding again and drinking the rest in one gulp. it was much different hearing his words of affirmation in person. it felt addicting, unreal.

"thats it. a toast for the new year, my boy. im excited for the memories we shall make together. aren't you?" oh, did vox mean his streams? of course you looked forward to those, how could you not! he was the highlight of your day, making you smile and laugh. "mhm! im excited. im looking forward to your streams, vox." the demon felt a shiver roll down his spine, suppressing a groan. he could get used to you saying his name. he wanted to hear you say it in other ways, too.

"i hope we can get more.. personal, as well, y/n. it was truly delightful being here with you." the man had such a way with words, making you swoon. was he this nice with everyone? no wonder he had so many followers! while you didnt know the true extent to what he had implied, you agreed, telling him that you were happy you came out today.

of course you were. you were his little rabbit, frail and gullible, unknowing of the big bad wolf sitting across from your very table. he truly wondered just how oblivious you could be, but much to his delight, he'd find out soon enough. your eyes started to feel heavy, zoning out while he talked about random things to keep you occupied.

"goodness, y/n, are you alright? you look a bit pale. here, let me take you back to my place. i don't live far at all." his voice was sickeningly sweet, how could you deny his offer? you nodded drowsily, letting the man hold you to steady your balance.

the cold air of the outdoors didnt phase you, and neither did it bother vox. peering at your sleeping face, he smiled, leaning in to kiss the top of your forehead.

"happy new years, y/n. lets have fun together." vox whispered in your ear, turning the corner towards his apartment.

#my askbox..#male reader #mlm blog #male reader blog #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en x reader #my fics..#🐱 anon #luxiem x reader #vox akuma x m!reader #vox akuma x male reader #yandere vox akuma #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #luxiem x y/n #luxiem x m!reader #luxiem x male reader

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withacapitalp · 4 months

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How to Rehabilitate a Jock Part 19

Part One Link to ao3 Part 18.

Part Twenty

As always thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for generally keeping my head on my shoulders and betaing everything I always throw at you guys ily ily ily

Step Nineteen: Sing a Song

“Are you sure about this Steve?” Claudia asked for the millionth time as Steve opened her coat and held it out in front of him with a patient smile.

“I’m sure. Honest, Mrs. Henderson.” Steve said. He had gone through this exact song and dance with every parent except for Joyce and Hop, and Claudia was the final hold out. Truthfully he had expected Karen Wheeler or the Sinclairs to be the most unsure about leaving their sons at his house overnight, but a few small platitudes had been enough to get them to let go and go home.

Well, a few platitudes and a bottle of wine to hit the road with.

“Steven,” She immediately replied, a faux warning tone coloring her voice as she wagged her finger at him with a grumpy look in her eye.

“Claudia,” Steve amended, still feeling that little awkwardness that he always had when he addressed any adult by their first name. He could practically hear his mother’s voice in his ear telling him off for being impolite. “It’s not a problem, and besides, they’re just going to sleep. Super easy.”

Steve wasn’t exactly sure if that was true, but he had hope. All six of his brats had been letting out big yawns as he had ushered them up the stairs a little while ago, and he hadn’t heard any shouting coming from upstairs yet. There was no way of knowing if the excitement of a sleepover would give them a second wind of some form, but even that would be short lived.

Besides, Eddie had just left to drop off his friends with the promise of coming back soon, so the quicker he got the kids in bed, the better.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, dear, you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for Dusty and the others,” Claudia said, finally allowing Steve to help her into her coat, “I just can’t believe you don't get tired of having them all here so often. I mean, doesn't it exhaust you? I can barely handle the occasional playdate they have at my house!”

“It does exhaust me,” Steve joked with a soft laugh, “but it’s also nice? A bit hard to explain, I guess.”

“You’re starting to sound like a father,” Claudia teased, buttoning up her extremely bright pink coat., “You’ll make some girl very happy someday.”

Steve laughed along because that was what was appropriate, but he couldn’t deny the weird pit in his stomach that was beginning to grow. A month ago he would have thought it was because of his breakup with Nancy and the prospect that he might never find someone he loved like her ever again.

That made sense.

But Steve could say with almost one hundred percent certainty that Nancy was nothing but a friend now. Someone important to him, but wholly platonic. He could also say that he still very much wanted to be a father. It was one of the things he wanted most in life.

So why was Claudia’s joke making him so uncomfortable?

It made zero sense. There wasn’t any reason. Something just felt… wrong.

Luckily their conversation appeared to be over. There were still the normal polite farewells and long goodbyes in the doorway, but that was all perfunctory. Steve could go through those motions without much thought, and before he knew it the front door shut and he was finally alone in his house once more.

Thump.

Mostly alone.

“You shitheads better have your pajamas on and teeth brushed by the time I reach the top of these steps!” Steve called up from the bottom, standing still and relishing in the sudden flurry of activity that was coming from his bedroom.

The kids weren’t even a bit frightened of him, but they still listened to him when they felt like it, and especially if he was doing something big like letting them all stay overnight so they could spend more time with El. It was almost novel, knowing they were going to actually do what he said with only minimal complaining.

Steve waited one second longer before starting to climb the stairs, purposefully making his steps just a touch louder so he knew the kids could hear him approaching. He even made a show of slowly opening the door to his bedroom, only to be greeted by a truly miraculous sight.

All six of them tucked tight into his bed, quiet and calm. Max, Lucas, and Will were even pretending to be asleep, just to really sell the bit. Max and Lucas weren’t doing too good, but Steve might’ve actually believed Will’s act if he didn’t know that Will always slept on his left, and not his right.

“Look at that, turns out you can do as you’re told,” He said, putting his hands on his hips and biting his lip to avoid directly laughing at how good they were pretending to be. The ‘sleepers’ opened their eyes, and the others all relaxed at the easy going tone their babysitter was using.

“Fuck you, Steve,” Mike grumbled, ever the contrarian.

“I can still call your mom and dad to pick you up, Wheeler,” Steve threatened lightly, both of them knowing he would do no such thing.

Still, it was enough to get Mike to back down, grumbling as he snuggled in tighter between Dustin and El.

“How’d the plan go?” Dustin asked eagerly, leaning over his grumpy friend and jamming his elbow’s into Mike’s ribs, causing the other boy to snarl and try to push him off without success.

“Pretty much perfect,” Steve sighed walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling at one of Max’s braids idly just to rile her up a little bit. “El should have no problem going to school next year.”

The kids immediately began to cheer and whoop, already excitedly planning all the things they would get to do together next year.

All except one.

“What’s wrong Supergirl?” Steve asked softly, furrowing his brow at El’s stormy expression. “I thought this would make you happy.”

That was the whole reason he had come up with this insane plan- he had wanted to make El happy. And yet, here she was, practically miserable.

El sucked in one cheek, chewing on it in a move that was so reminiscent of Hopper it almost made Steve laugh. She looked just like her dad when he was deep in thought.

“I am happy about being allowed to go to school,” El finally began, her words slow as she thought through the exact words she wanted to use. Steve waited patiently, knowing she would come to the words when she had them, or would ask for one that might help explain better.

“I am… uncomfortable with lying. Friends don’t lie.”

Friends don’t lie.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure who had taught that to these kids, but if he ever found out, he would not be responsible for what he did.

Don’t lie. What a stupid thing to teach kids. In Steve’s opinion- honesty was overrated. There was nothing wrong with a white lie, or a big fat one, as long as it was for a good reason. What was the point in telling his mother that his dad was out with his secretary again? What sense was there in being truthful when Carol asked if the other girls thought she was mean? Saying those things just hurt everyone, Steve included.

It was better to be smart, to be strategic with the truth, and hope for the best. He would lie to everyone around him, as long as it was what would keep them happiest. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and actually, knowing would hurt more.

Still, he couldn’t say that to them. Especially not to El of all people. The other kids barely understood; her black and white way of thinking wouldn’t be able to get it. Not yet.

But then again, maybe it would be better if she never did.

“Friends don’t lie, but friends do keep secrets,” Steve decided, hoping that would be enough. “We’re going to keep your secrets, so you can stay safe. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” El said almost immediately, knowing how important her safety was to Steve. She paused, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she let his words truly sink in.

Once she did she took a deep breath and turned back to him, making sure Steve was looking at her as she spoke.

“But I still don’t like it? Does that make sense?” El asked hesitantly.

“I don’t like it either,” Mike said, and this time Steve could tell he wasn’t just agreeing because it was El. Mike’s little glower had turned into a full blown scowl, and his arms flew around as his voice began to raise, “El saved the world. Twice. She’s a hero, not a monster!”

No, she wasn’t a monster, and Steve would never want her to think of herself as one, but the world wasn’t so kind. Before he could even begin to try explaining that, the kids kept going.

“It does kind of suck that I can’t tell my mom anything,” Max admitted, uncharacteristically quiet as she kept her eyes firmly on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t care about telling Billy or Neil or anything, but my mom asks me about my nightmares, and I can’t tell her why I have them. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets from her.”

“My mom’s still bummed about Mews,” Dustin muttered.

“My mom knows and it’s still hard to talk to her,” Will added on, looking far too old for just being twelve.

They all looked old. It was like Steve could almost see the adults they would be someday far down the line. Adults with secrets to bear, and lies to tell, and too many things they would never be able to explain to the world around him. Things that their mothers would never be able to help them with.

Was that what he was now?

Steve had never even considered talking to his mother about everything they had been through. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind once. And now that he was thinking about it, he still couldn’t imagine a world where he would ever talk to his mom about any of this.

… It was hard to recall the last time he had talked to his mom about anything real.

“I know it sucks, but it’s not safe guys,” He said, focusing on the thing he could worry about and ignoring the panging ache in his heart. This wasn’t a time to think about his mommy issues. This was about the kids.

“Yeah, being put in cuffs once was enough for me,” Lucas said, unconsciously rubbing at his wrists. “Not fun.”

“I do not want to go back to the lab. Secret’s are necessary,” El agreed, reaching over and tangling her fingers in Lucas’s, “but they suck.”

“Secrets suck a big fat one,” Dustin declared.

El leaned back, quirking her head to the side.

“A big fat what?” She asked, the absolute picture of innocence she was.

There was a beat of quiet as they all registered exactly what she had just said, and then as a group they all began to laugh. Steve tried in vain to stifle his giggles, not wanting El to feel like she was being laughed at, but she was smiling too, pleased as punch to get her friends feeling happy again instead of sad.

“I’ll explain it some other time, Elliegirl,” Steve promised, tugging the covers more securely around the brats as he did. “And you guys can always talk to me, you know that right? I’m not the same as your parents, but I’m here.”

Some sleepy nods and yawns answered him, and Steve figured the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. But, just as he reached over to grab the lights, a quiet little voice broke through the silence.

“... Who do you talk to?”

Steve paused, his fingers still curled around the knob on his bedside lamp as he turned to give Will a curious look.

“What?”

“You said we can talk to you, but who do you talk to?” Will explained, a little nervous like always, but not backing down.

No one.

“Plenty of people. I’ve got my friends, and Nancy and Jonathan,” Steve replied, a little too cheerfully, trying to ignore the immediate response that had come to mind.

“But you can’t talk to Eddie or the others about the upside down stuff, and you barely talk to Nancy and Jon,” Max argued, joining Will in staring Steve down now that he had considered the question, “so, who do you get to talk to about this, Steve?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Steve asked, expertly maneuvering around the situation. He ruffled Dustin’s curls, finally free of his hat, poking him in between the eyes to add an extra annoyance. “I’m the one that worries about you brats, not the other way around.”

“We are friends, Steve. Aren’t friends supposed to watch over each other?” El insisted.

Steve opened his mouth but quickly shut it before he said something stupid like they weren’t friends or it didn’t work that way.

But wasn’t that the truth?

The kids were friends with each other, Nancy was Mike’s sister, Jonathan was Will’s brother, Hopper and Joyce were the parents. Where did Steve fit in that equation? ‘Babysitter’ had been an easy thing to use as a placeholder, but how much longer could he say that? What place was Steve supposed to be in for them as they got older? He wasn’t their brother, but he couldn’t see a world where he fit as one of their friends.

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grumbled, pulling Steve out of his head and back into the moment.

“Excuse me?” Steve said, more than a little shocked. As far as he knew, El was the only one who could read minds, and he hadn’t said a word.

And yet, they were all glaring at him, unhappy with whatever they had seen on his face.

“How many times do we have to say you’re in the party?” Mike muttered, a heavy red blush on his cheeks as he burrowed deeper into the pillows to avoid looking at anyone.

“Dumbass,” Max added, just to even things back out.

A hot heavy warmth spread through Steve’s chest and he bit down the stupid smile that was

threatening to break onto his face. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter. They cared, and that was what mattered.

“If I need to, I’ll talk with you guys,” Steve offered, knowing deep in his bones that he would never do such a thing.

“Promise?” Lucas murmured.

“Promise,” Steve lied with a soft, honey sweet voice, shutting off the light and letting the hallway lamp and the glow of the pool illuminate the room in a gentle cool tone. “Now it’s really time for bed.”

“What about Story and Song?” El asked.

Steve raised his brows in surprise, reminded with a jolt that despite looking just the same, El wasn’t like the other kids.

Story and Song was a little tradition Steve had started for the nights that Hopper had to work late, an easy way to get her to go to bed in an unfamiliar house without the comforting presence of her dad. He would read one of the short stories from his big book of Disney stories, sing her a song, and she would sleep until Hopper came to pick her up. It was sweet, but none of the other kids would have ever dared to ask for such a childish thing. They would want to act more grown up, more mature, always in a rush to grow up.

El had no such qualms.

A familiar storybook was being floated into his lap, and none of them, not even the boys, were protesting. In the blink of an eye, they weren’t old anymore, just kids who wanted to hear a story they already knew to help them fall asleep.

“Which one do you guys want?” Steve asked, ignoring the lump that was starting to grow in his throat, flipping through the Disney storybook and feeling the worn edges against his fingertips.

“Lady and the Tramp?” Dustin offered, seeing that Steve was already thumbing through that page. He turned to the beginning and rolled his neck getting into the mood to read, using the light from the pool outside as his guide.

“Lady was a happy little dog. She lived in a big house with Jim Dear and Darling.”

By the time Steve’s index finger glossed along the last sentences of the story, most of the kids had dropped off. Will had fallen asleep almost immediately, with Dustin and Lucas tripping after him before too long. El had made a valiant attempt to stay up, but she was gone by the time Lady met the other dogs at the pound.

Steve had just two hold outs left.

“G’night guys,” He said quietly, slowly sliding off of the bed and putting the book on the floor next to his bed. Mike turned over and ignored him, but Max sat up with a little glare.

“You said we would get a song too,” Max said sleepily, rubbing at her eyes with both palms.

“That’s being cheap, Harrington.”

Cheap? Was she actually serious?

“You two… want me… to sing you a lullaby?” Steve asked in complete disbelief. El, he understood. She had no frame of reference, no way of knowing that she might be a little bit too old for things like this, but Max?

Mike?

“We just don’t think you can actually sing,” Mike said, his words punctuated by a ridiculously big yawn.

“You gotta close your eyes then, and just listen,” Steve sighed, unwilling to argue this late at night.

“Deal,” Max said, snuggling down into the bed.

Steve let his eyes fall shut, taking a long deep breath as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, putting his back against the bed and conveniently facing away from the kids. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed to sing, it would just be easier not to have to see them while he did it.

But what should he sing?

It had to be something soft, something easy. Something anyone would want to hear.

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Who could hate this song?”

Steve had the answer.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me…”

Tag List: Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

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ughgoaway · 3 months

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don't you think of me?

plot; snapshots of your breakup, with one letter underlining it all.

word count; 6.9k-ish

content warnings; swearing, dramatic overreactions, distressing dreams, depression, blood, general sad vibes, drinking and no happy ending (oops <3)

a/n; guys... angst is SO HARD. idk how people write it sooooo well. this fic is inspired by the songs "Sad Beautiful Tragic" and "I Almost Do" and the storyline is based completely on those songs! but there are a few other Taylor song references in the fic too. anyway, this kind of jumps around a lot, perspectives and timelines. so if it's completely incomprehensible, I am so sorry!! lemme know if it's so awful I need to have a re-write lol. I really hope the flashbacks are clear, and that this timeline makes any sense whatsoever <3

(p.s this is basically dedicated to 🍪 anon and bff anon, ty for riding so hard for this fic lol)

(this is non-canon)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

The cold wind hurts Matty's face as he battles against it. Each gust feels like needles prickling his cheeks. But still, he pushes through, not really feeling much of anything these days anyway. The paper in his pocket scratches his hands as he burrows them in deeper, but he just grips it harder. The scratches made him feel more human anyway. They convinced his hazy head that maybe life was still happening around him.

The red post box in front of him is almost taunting. He stands frozen, gripping the letter he’s worked so hard on tightly. He has the passing thought of just letting it go, watching it blow away in the breeze, and never having to think about it again.

He never has to think about you again.

But he knows that's unrealistic. How can he never think of you again when you're all he thinks about? Every waking thought he has is about you. He still thinks about how your breathing changed when you slept next to him. The way your lips curved into the smirk he loved whenever you teased him. The flush that covered your cheeks when he did it back.

Every morning, he still gets out 2 mugs. He still grabs your favourite wine at the shops and doesn't say yes to plans without thinking if he should check with you first. The last time he saw you was still burned into the back of his mind, and he was not sure it could ever leave.

And to be honest, he doesn't know if he wants it to. If healing means forgetting you, forgetting everything you built, then maybe it is better to live in the pain. Each time he begins to heal, he picks up the scab over and over again. The sting reminded him of you, so he picked and picked. Blood poured from him relentlessly, but that was all he could do. Bleeding for you was all he had of you anymore.

He shoved the letter in and walked away briskly. He fought every bone in his body telling him to go back. To smash the post box and filter through every letter until he found his. He imagined a world in which he hadn't sent it, where instead he turned around and marched back to his house.

Or maybe there's a world where he marched to your house instead. Maybe he finally got over himself and told you everything in person. He begged and pleaded for you to forgive him, to look him in the eyes and tell him you've been hurting just as much as him.

Matty isn't sure that world exists, though.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

3 days later, when it arrives, you stare at it endlessly. You move it from place to place in your apartment and try to visualise opening it there. But soon enough, that just becomes you avoiding that room like the plague, and you start to treat parts of your flat like they are infested with a deadly virus. But they're not, really. They're just filled with a small envelope with your name on it and a return address you know all too well.

You decide you aren't going to read it 2 days later. You hold it over a candle and watch the amber flames lick the bottom of the envelope. But before you can set it ablaze, some instinct takes over, and suddenly, it's the most important object you've ever owned. You pull it from the flames and put it out with your fingers, not caring if the fire sizzles your skin. You cry and beg for it to be okay, tears streaming from your cheeks as you frantically pull it open, “No no no. fuck, please.”

But the letter inside was unscathed, just the corner of the envelope was covered in a thin layer of ash. As soon as you see that handwriting, though, you feel the unspeakable urge to burn it again, to set it on fire and watch it burn.

You don’t.

You lay it on the table and go to bed. You decide tomorrow will be the day you do something with it, even though you promised yourself that every day since you got it. But you're sure tomorrow will really be the day. It has to be.

You return to the warm solace of the bed you've grown to know too well over the past few weeks, and the duvet welcomes you in like an old friend.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

It's a few days after he sent the letter and the day after you received it when he sees you for the first time, and he can't quite believe it. There you were, standing in the coffee shop you always went to together.

He wondered if the baristas had noticed you both started to come in without the other. Maybe they started gossiping about it, “Did those customers break up? I never see them together any more” and he could almost see someone else saying “I hope not. They were cute.”

Even though he knew no one would ever actually say that, and that the baristas hadn't noticed anything.

Some force that he couldn't explain pulled him towards you, and before he knew it, he was reaching for your arm. “Hi” he breathed out heavily, staring at you like he wasn't sure you were real. He wasn't convinced that you were anything but a figment of his imagination. Has his delusions about you already gotten to the point where he's having visions? He thought it would take a few more months for that.

“Matty?” You say gently, tracing your eyes over the man in front of you. Hearing your soft voice after months without you felt like heaven on earth for Matty, relaxation washing over him just at the soft dulcet tones of you.

Matty smiled softly at you, and you immediately returned it. He can see the cogs turning in your head on how to greet him. Was a hug too much? Is a wave too little? Is a handshake too formal? Overthinking was one thing you were so good. Matty was sure you could win an award for it. So he decided to take the decision into his own hands and wrapped out up in a hug, burrowing his face in your hair and smelling that familiar floral aura he'd fallen in love with.

Your whole body tensed when he first touched you. The once familiar feeling now was slightly cold and awkward. But Matty felt you relax and couldn't help the grin that spread across his face the the feeling of your head in his neck, the place you always used to lay. He swore he could feel you breathe him in, but soon convinced himself it was wishful thinking.

Reluctantly, you pull away, looking up at Matty with glassy eyes. The barista next to you clears his throat, bringing you both back to earth and out of whatever haze you were in. “your tea is ready” he says awkwardly, eyeing you and Matty with a sly smile on his lips.

“Right! Sorry, yes. Thank you” You grab your cup and turn back to Matty nervously. He can see the anxiety radiating off you, just like it always had. He never thought it would be directed at him, but he tries not to overthink it too much.

“Do you-” You clear your throat, shaking your head as you try to process that you're seeing him again. Seeing your Matty. “Do you want to sit with me? Catch up?”

Matty can see your hands shaking around your cup and the nervousness swimming in your eyes. “Of course,” he says easily. He could never deny an opportunity to spend time with you. Especially not when he hadn't seen you in so long. And certainly not when you still take up his every waking thought.

The conversation flows like you had never left, easily chatting and catching up like you always had. You tell Matty about the cat you adopted and how she loves to sit on top of the fridge to scare you. He tells you about his mum and her latest drama. Her kitchen cupboards were the wrong colour of grey, and it was the topic of conversation for much longer than he thought possible.

The first bout of silence comes when you ask about Annie, and Matty can tell it took every ounce of strength to force the words out of your mouth. You felt like someone had taken one of your vital organs when you left her, and you can still see her face in your mind whenever you close your eyes.

“she's good. Misses you, though. Especially because she doesn't see you at school anymore since you got a new job” he says with a solemn smile. Matty tries to hold eye contact, but he gives up a few seconds into it, instead staring at his coffee as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Thankfully, soon enough, the once stilted silence becomes easy chatter and laughter all over again, Matty welcomed the warm conversation with open arms, missing your presence more than he ever thought possible.

But Matty's mouth soon got ahead of him, “so when was the last time I saw you?” he asked thoughtlessly. His brain was on autopilot, and the words poured out of him before he could stop it. The very topic you'd both been dancing around was now laid out in front of you, and it couldn't be ignored.

Matty saw something in your demeanour change, your once soft smile morphing into a faux-happy grimace, “Don't you remember? You screaming at me in the kitchen? And then storming out after saying what you did? Maybe you remember smashing a plate on the floor?” Matty pauses at your words, not quite believing you're deciding to re-hash all of this in the middle of a coffee shop, especially with a massive and slightly creepy grin on your face, but he answers anyway.

“Of course, I remember. And there's not enough words to say how sorry I am but-” he stutters as he tries to explain himself more, but you cut him off, gently placing a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure you remember? When you left me? Abandoned me? Left me sobbing and alone? What about the 30 phone calls you ignored?” You kept talking, and Matty couldn't get a word in, your voice increasing in volume with each desperate question.

“Look I’m so sorry-” Matty desperately looked around him to see if people were staring at your raised voice, but the cafe was empty. The once bustling coffee shop is now like a ghost town, with no evidence of another human ever being in there.

He flicks his head back to yours, only to be in his kitchen, forced back to that night. He stares at you in your pyjamas, tears streaming down your face. He flicks his eyes down to see him dressed in the same liquor-stained clothes, and he can taste the red wine on his tongue.

“Why” you whispered over and over again, gradually getting louder, eventually shouting at Matty as he stood there motionless.

Matty wakes up in a cold sweat, panting wildly as his brain fights to figure out what the fuck is happening. He scrambles to his phone and realises; it's still the same day. It was just another fucking dream. He knows nightmare would be the better word, but he can't bring himself to describe anything with you in it as a nightmare.

With a heavy sigh, he flops back to his pillow, gripping his phone desperately and trying to fight the urge to call you. It almost doesn't work, and he clicks on your contact and lets his thumb hover over the call button. He sees the unanswered calls and the pleading messages. He can feel the desperation through the screen.

He thinks your new boyfriend must've blocked his number because that's easier than thinking that you just hate him. Each time he reaches out, there’s no reply, and he feels a part of himself die.

He hadn't tried for a few months now, but he still had that urge to type out his every thought, to send it and call you until you answered. But he doesn't.

It doesn't occur to Matty that the real reason that the reason you don't answer isn't because of a new boyfriend or because you hate him. Instead, it’s because you know you can't deal with another goodbye. You can't risk all this happening again. You were already practically ripped open. You can't risk tearing the very stitches you worked so hard to sew closed.

But matty doesn't know that, so with a huff, he clicks off you and onto George, and this time, he lets the phone ring.

“Huh? what-” he hears the groggy voice over the phone mutter, and it's then he realises maybe ringing George at 3 am because he had a nightmare wasn't the best decision. But it was too late now, and he could practically see George's expectant face from the other side of the phone.

“Hi. it um- it happened again” Matty said with a huff, falling back into the pillows and staring at the moonlight dancing across his ceiling. He heard George's heavy sigh and the distinct sound of ruffling sheets, George had sat up instinctively, knowing something was up.

“What was it this time? Did everyone in the crowd turn into her again” George says softly, rubbing at his tired eyes and fighting a yawn.

“No, it started off really nice this time. I saw her again at that cafe we always went to, you know the one near the studio? We were just chatting and catching up. But then she wouldn't stop talking about that night, telling me what happened all over again. And then I blinked, and I was back. I was in that kitchen again, just staring at her.” Matty follows the moonbeams with his eyes, lingering on the two beams crossing over, only for their paths to separate once again.

It reminded him of you and him.

“I think you need to get some lavender oil or some shit. You need to sleep. And these nightmares aren't helping” George says firmly, Matty would usually fight him tooth and nail at the suggestion.

He claimed it was because that stuff had never worked for him, but George knew it was because he saw it as still having a part of you in his life. Even if you were there in the form of his demons, at least they all looked like you.

But to his surprise, Matty immediately crumbled, “Yeah, you're right. Will you come to Boots with me after the studio tomorrow?” George agreed quickly before Matty could change his mind.

But he didn't try to, Matty simply said, “Thanks. Okay, I'll let you sleep now… Bye.” And before George could tell him it was okay, and he’d stay chatting as long as Matty needed, he was gone.

Tears leaked from Matty’s eyes, wetting the same pillow where you used to lay your head. This loop of healing felt endless, and Matty wasn't sure if fixing this was possible when he knew you were still out there without him. Forever wouldn't have even been enough with you, but now he has nothing. What is he meant to do with no you?

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

As Matty lay awake in Manchester, you were in the same position in London. The same lonely bed, but different cities. Unlike him, you haven't managed to sleep yet. Instead, you can't stop your brain from imagining what is in that letter. Your mind falls back to that night, and you replay the events over and over again. Every word Matty said was etched in your mind, so it played easily, the same script ringing in your ears all these months later.

//////////////////////

Matty shut the door delicately. Getting home at 2 am. was already bad enough. He didn't want to wake you or Annie in the process. But when he saw the light pouring out of the kitchen and heard the distinct hissing of the kettle, he knew you were awake. And he knew you were waiting for him.

He walked into the kitchen silently, leaning on the counter and watching you potter around, he remember when he used to sit here for hours and dream of you in his house. Now he's not even sure the last time you said I love you to each other. You continue to ignore Matty, but you getting a second mug out of the cupboard tells him all he needs to know. This is going to be a long night.

“At the studio late again?” You ask, passing Matty his mug and leaning across from him. Your eyes trace up his figure, and you can't help but think you don't recognise the man in front of you. His clothes hung off of him, and heavy bags sat under his empty eyes. His hair was standing on end, once perfectly manicured curls now frazzled beyond repair.

“Yeah, George wanted to fix this harmony. Sorry I'm back so late” he knew lying to you was wrong. He really did. But he couldn't bring himself to explain where he actually was, drinking alone in a bar rather than at home with his family.

“Oh. okay.” you pause and wait for Matty to correct himself, giving him a chance to be fucking honest for once. But he doesn't, so you push again.

“That's weird though, because I asked Charli where George was 2 hours ago, and she sent a photo of them together. In bed.”

Matty's eyes widened. He knew he'd just been caught, but he wasn't ready to give up the lie yet. He just needed a few more weeks away, and then he would come back. Then everything would be made right again. So his tipsy mind comes up with a new lie and pleads with whatever God there might be that would believe him, “Oh did I say George? I meant Hann, you know how I get when it's late”

“Matty. You stink of booze. Do you think im an idiot?” You sigh, placing your tea down and crossing your arms over your chest. The anger bubbling within you was threatening to spill over. You felt as if every word from Matty was a stab, yet he kept just pushing the knife deeper.

“So I had a drink at the studio! Sue me, Jesus Christ” Matty sneers at you as he talks, slamming his cup onto the counter, ignoring the burning on his hand from the tea falling over the rim.

“Liar” you click your tongue at Matty and cast your eyes to the floor. Staring into his eyes as he lied to you was agony, and you're not sure how much more pain you can take.

“I'm not lying. I swear I just-” he tries to argue, but you refuse to let him keep going.

“I know you're lying. You're always fucking lying! You weren't at the studio.” you sighed heavily flicking your eyes up to Matty briefly, but the tension was too much, it hurt to look at him.

“Baby, cmon, calm down. It’s okay, yeah? I’m here now,” Matty moved towards you, grabbing your cheek in his hand and moving in to kiss you, prepared to make this all melt away just like he always did. You try to push him away, but Matty stands strong. He had to fix this. He needed to kiss and make up. It was all he knew how to do.

“Would you just fucking listen” you shout, pushing Matty back across from you, “I don't even know who you are anymore! These past few weeks have made you into a man I don't even fucking recognise.” You look up at him with crazed eyes and scoff at the sight of the man in front of you.

You were done with it all. The lying, the running away, the sleuthing around. Done. You were having this conversation, and you were having it now.

“No please don't say that. You know me. I don't know who I am without you knowing me,” Matty begged, sobering up quickly at your words.

He needs to bring this back, claw what little life you had left in you to the surface. Everything that left Matty’s life has had claw marks in it, and he would be damned if he'd let you go without the same scars.

“Don't you understand that's the fucking issue, Matty? You don't know who you are anymore, I don't know who you are anymore. You need to be a person without me.” your words struck Matty in the chest like a bullet.

Were you seriously suggesting what he thinks you are? Do you actually want to break up with him?

Matty baulks at your words. Every feeling he’d had over the past few months was catching up to him, crashing into each other in his brain as they fought to be let out. Anger won because, of course, it won. It seems to always win.

He decides that if you want to break up, then he'll do it himself. He can't let you beat him to it. He knows it's childish, but he doesn't fucking care. He needs to win this. “Please, I've been a person without you for 30 fucking years. I’m a fucking dad! I don't need you to tell me who I am.”

“Annie needs both her parents, Matty. We need you back, please.” The mention of Annie makes outrage bubble within him like it had never done before. He can't believe you'd practically threatened to break up with him one minute and then beg for him back for the sake of his daughter the next. Because that is what she is, she's his daughter.

“You don't know what it's like to be a parent y/n,” Matty mumbles under his breath, but he might as well have screamed it at you because that's how loudly it rang in your ears. He knew he'd fucked up as soon as he said it, but there was no going back now, and he could see that in your eyes.

“I don't know what it's like to be a parent. Are you fucking kidding Matty? What the hell have I been doing here for the past year? Just fucking around? I can't believe you could say that to me.” You hear your voice wavering as you force each word out.

“Annie is just as much my daughter as she is yours” you whisper desperately. The regret of mentioning Annie was building in your chest, and it felt like a rock impeding your lungs, each breath fighting against the weight. but it was too late to take anything back now. Both you and Matty knew it.

Matty scoffs at your words, rolling his eyes as he fiddles with his fingers. He tries desperately to cool his raging mind, but he can't. He figures if he is already in this deep, why not stoop a little lower?

“Just as much your daughter? Please. You weren't here for fucking any of it. Where were you here when she was born? How about when she was sick for the first time and wouldn't let me put her down without screaming bloody murder? Or- or how about when she broke her arm and she cried when she couldn't have a pink cast? Or maybe for any fucking time apart from the last 12 months. I know you liked playing happy families y/n, but be fucking real for 5 seconds. You were her teacher, maybe a fun friend, but nothing more. And if you think you were, you're more delusional than I thought.”

His chest heaved as he finished, not taking a single breath during his rambling speech, he could see your wet eyes and he felt his heart aching but he just couldn't stop himself, words tumbling out of his mouth. "Even if you stayed, even if you never give up on us, on this. You could never be her mother.”

Both of you pause, the silence thick and heavy around you. How long could you stand like this and pretend he didn’t say that? Maybe if you just stayed there and listened to your ragged breathing, something would change.

But nothing did.

“Fuck you. You told me I was practically her mother a month ago. You said to me I was it for you, that your family was complete. I can't believe-” words poured out of you, streaming helplessly as you paced the kitchen.

Matty tried to cut in, desperate to get a word in edgeways. The need to defend himself was all-consuming. He needed to know that you understood he said it in the heat of the moment. Words fall out of his mouth without thinking. He can’t help it.

“y/n, love-”

“I’m not her mother? Tell that to the time I took her dress shopping for your mum's wedding. Or when I took her to A&E with suspected appendicitis. and-”

“y/n. Stop, just listen to me, please.” Matty begs, he almost inches closer to you, but some ineffable force keeps him where he is, watching you pace helplessly.

“Listen to you? Oh, I've done plenty of fucking listening Matthew. All I do is listen to you! But you never fucking hear me-”

“Can you just shut up for 5 fucking seconds” Matty shouted, grabbing a plate from beside him, throwing it against the concrete floor, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. He just needed you to look at him, to tell him you could fix this, but you wouldn't stop talking.

A gasp from you pulls him back to earth, and he feels his heart break into as many pieces as the plate below his feet. Your wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks glare back at him, and Matty has nothing to say. He has no fucking idea what just came over him.

Matty gingerly takes a step towards you, trying to avoid the ceramic splayed over the floor. His fingers shake as he reaches his hand out to your cheek, wanting to thumb away the tears falling.

But just as he does, he sees you flinch. It wasn't even a full movement, practically a micro-expression. But you fucking flinched. And you both knew it. The veil of silence over you is thick as you both stand there motionless with no idea what you could say to fix this. To make the last 10 minutes disappear.

Matty’s touch used to calm you. It was the only reassurance you needed. But now the mere thought of it filled you with some twisted sense of fear. The woman he had planned the rest of his life with was scared of him. And it was all his fucking fault. How had this all become his worst nightmare? How had the very thing he sacrificed so much to build crumbled and destroyed itself so deeply?

“Matty wait- I’m sorry, I was just still on edge. It's okay, im okay. See?” With a shaking hand, you grip his, bringing it to your face despite his protests. You can feel him trying to pull his arm away, but you fight him at every tug. Forcibly placing his hand on your wet cheek.

As soon as your hand drops from his, Matty wrenches away from you. The feeling of your cheek against his palm felt as if his skin was burning. The pain touched his every nerve.

The air is charged with pure fear as you stare at the other, both of your chests heaving and your eyes glassy with unshed tears. Without thinking it through, Matty storms off, grabbing his keys as he pushes through the house. You chase after him, ignoring the blades of ceramic impaling your sock-covered feet, “No don't leave, Matty, please. Stay, stay here.” You reach to grab his arm, but Matty snatches it away before you can even feel his skin against yours.

“I’m leaving. I’m staying at George tonight. Tomorrow I’ll come pick Annie up from school. You will call in and take a sick day. Start packing your shit. I’m done. You're out of my house by tomorrow.” Matty demands, and with that, he leaves. Slamming the door behind him.

Bloody footprints lay in a trail behind you, and your socks start slowly becoming sodden from your weeping wounds. But still, you stood there, unmoving. Shock coursing through your veins.

It was all over. Just like that.

////////////////////

The letter was taunting you from the other room, the blacked corner flashed into your mind whenever your eyes finally fluttered close. The image of you burning the letter played behind your eyelids like a movie, and you almost wish you really had done it.

But you didnt, so it still sat on your living room table, torturing you.

Eventually, you drift off to sleep, tears dampen the pillow below your head, but you ignore the thumping in your head and finally let sleep pull you under.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

You know you're dreaming when you're back in that kitchen. But you can't stop it from happening. The hazy filter that covers your surroundings is the only thing assuring you this isn't real, that this isn't all happening again.

Matty stands in front of you just as he had that night, but he looks different. His once frizzy curls sat in perfectly ringlets around his face, the streaks of grey dancing through them more prominent. His unshaven face was now neatly trimmed, and you admired the salt and pepper hairs within it. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes, glittering on his waterline.

“So you'll forgive me? We can move on?” he says desperately, smiling and moving towards you with tears falling down his cheeks.

You try to speak, but your mouth doesn't move, your lips stay pressed together against your brain's protests. Not even grunts escape you. Silently, you stare at Matty, completely motionless.

“y/n? You forgive me. I can make this right again, can't I?” Matty begs desperately. He grabs your hand but recoils at the cold feeling on his skin, your fingers cold as ice in his grip.

You fight to speak again, to tell him yes. To tell him you forgive him, that you need to try again. But still, nothing leaves your lips.

Matty scoffs at you, ripping himself away from you, “I can't believe you're ignoring me. I thought you'd be more mature than this. Call me when you can actually have an adult fucking conversation.”

He storms off, but all you can do is watch him helplessly. Every nerve in your body is screaming to move, to chase after him. And you almost do, but some inexplicable force is keeping you there, motionless in the same place where your life ended all those months ago.

So you watch him leave again, the haze surrounding you soon becoming darkness.

You know it's a dream, and you keep on telling yourself that. But when you wake with wet cheeks and a heaving chest, it feels pretty fucking real.

You swear you can feel him next to you, awake and staring at the same ceiling. But when you turn to see him, the piled-up duvet is all that's there, along with a cold bed beside you.

It's then you decide to finally give in to that voice in your head, the one screaming at you to just read the letter, to get it over and done with. The one begging you to throw it away and never look back is nearly silenced, and it soon becomes nothing but a whisper in the back of your mind.

The letter stays exactly where you left it, and whilst you know it couldn't have moved, part of you wishes it had. With shaking hands, you grab the pile of pages, and you can feel your heart racing the very same way it used to when you saw him.

The city lights shine onto you as you finally open the pages, looking at the handwriting you knew all too well. The same handwriting that used to give you butterflies, that used to detail how much it loved you, filling pages with adoration.

Now you're not so sure what it entails. But you read anyway, ignoring every screaming signal telling you to stop.

///////////

Hi darling,

I know I don't have the right to call you that anymore, but I can't bring myself to call you anything else. It's been a few months since we've spoken, and I've felt every minute of it. I've filled notebooks writing about you, writing to you. I must have practised this letter a dozen times, and I know this still won't be right.

So, instead of trying to write the perfect letter, I've ripped out some pages from my journal. My therapist told me to write like I was speaking to you, so that's what I did. I’m sure she would be pissed that im sending this at all, but I need to do this for us. To remember what we once were.

Anyway, I hope it makes you understand what this time without you has been like for me. You can ignore this letter completely and I wouldn't blame you. I won't hold it over you if you burn it and never look back. But if you do read it, I just need you to know im sorry. For everything.

(3 weeks without you)

To say the past couple of weeks have been hell for me is beyond an understatement. There is this festering part of me that thinks I will love you forever, and the knowledge that we will never be like we once were kills me, but it has to kill me. Because if I felt anything other than agony, I would come crawling back to you, and you don't deserve that. And I know that. But fucking hell, that doesn't make it hurt any less.

You know me, I don't know what it's like to have surface-level emotions. I either feel it all, or I feel nothing. and with you? I fucking felt it all. I felt every touch, every smile, every fight, every screaming match ending in tears. I fucking felt it. and for some reason- I'm still thankful for it. because at least I felt you.

I wonder if you're at the point where you miss me when you hear my name. And I can't help but think about you hearing my songs, do you change the station? Even if they're about you? But if I’m honest, they're all about you. Every one of them. Even before I knew you, they were about you.

(a month and a half)

I wish you could forgive me. I think if I knew you didn't hate me, I could move on. Or maybe it would do the opposite. I don't know. All I do know is, I miss you.

(2 months)

Sometimes I miss you so much I can't handle it. I go driving and find the places we used to go, I sit there, and I can still hear your laugh. I can feel that all-encompassing warmth that surrounds you. but then someone speaks, or a car horn goes off, and suddenly, it's cold again. I mourn you like you're someone I've lost forever, and in a way, I have.

You know I still feel you every day, everywhere. Because you might have left, but you never really did. I still find your socks down beside the bed, and your hair ties around the house. I accidentally used your shampoo in the shower this week. You know that ridiculous Jasmine one that you pay too much for?

It was like having you around again, I never thought the small of some shitty shampoo would be the thing that brought it all back to me, brought you back to me. Yet it was. But still, you were gone.

So apparently, I decided to fall into the breakup trope of crying in the shower. For 45 minutes, which made me feel slightly pathetic. And it didn't help when George knocked on the door and washed my hair again. with my shampoo. But I still find myself smelling jasmine even when it's nowhere near.

You haunt me in ways I never thought possible.

(3 months)

It's 3 a.m., and I can't stop picturing your face. Just knowing you're still out there makes it so much fucking harder. I don't know how to cope knowing you're there and not here, with me. Even months later there's some sick part of me that hopes leaving me was the hardest thing you've had to do. but I hope loving me wasn't.

I know that's selfish, and that this is all my fault anyway. so I want you to move on, even if it kills me. it's hell thinking that the one person you could never forget is fighting to forget you.

But I hope you find the love of your life. I hope they make your tea just how you like it, and buy you those crazy expensive candles you love. I hope they will follow you to the ends of the earth, just like I would. even now.

(3 and a half months)

I want to say you don't know how it feels to miss you, you don't know how hard it is. but I have to keep hoping you miss me just as much. because if you didn't, if you just moved on without a second thought; I couldn't cope. the fact that we will always just be an almost will live with me until the day I die. I don't want you to be an almost. I want you to be an always. but it's over, and I know that. or at least I'm very good at pretending I know that.

(4 months)

Recently, I've been thinking about “what ifs?” Despite my therapist telling me I shouldn't. But you know what it is like after breakups. It's this all-consuming thing, and you can't help but imagine if things were different.

I think in another universe, we worked out. I got over my massive ego, and you worked through your past, and it fixed itself. We got married, had another kid, and got that cat you always wanted. We'd go to Annie's graduation together. Her wedding together. you'd cry as I walked her down the aisle, I'd smile and kiss away your tears. and I know that's not this universe. but fucking hell why can't it be?

(4 and a half months)

My mum misses you. She asked how you were doing today and if I had reached out yet. I got angry at her and stormed out. If only she knew how many times I’d dialled your number and then turned off my phone. Or how many unanswered texts I've sent.

Annie misses you too, by the way. She's finally stopped asking when you're coming back.

I wish she still asked.

(today)

I don't expect you to read all of this, and if you've just skipped to the end, I don't blame you.

but I'm sending this letter because I think I'm finally at a place where when I think of you, I don't take it as a sign from the universe that we were meant to be together. instead, I think of it as a past life, as proof that we were an almost.

Next time I see you, I hope it doesn't hurt as much as the last time.

Goodbye, my love,

Matty x

///////////

The distinct sound of dripping tears hitting paper was the only noise in the room. You watched helplessly as the ink distorted under the little pools of wetness. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you can't help but fucking hate him for sending this.

How could he do this to you? All you've been doing for months is healing, but he keeps ripping open old wounds carelessly. He has to know you can never go back. You can't trust him.

All you left behind you was a mess. You were both better off this way.

With a scoff, you grab your lighter and cigarettes, stepping onto the balcony with the letter gripped in your shaking hands. You have to flick the lighter a few times before it works, the bitter wind fighting against it.

But soon the flame comes, you sigh happily, moving it up to the cigarette delicately balanced between your lips. You suck in a deep breath, revelling in the feeling of the smoke filling your lungs. The slight crackle brings you more relaxation than anything else these days, but you still have to fight to ignore the familiarity of the scent.

You flick the lighter again, huffing annoyed as it goes out. Once you see the distinct glow of amber, you don't hesitate before placing it against the paper and watching the pages in front of you burn up.

Ashes sizzle your skin, but you couldn't care less. In fact, you welcome the pain. A sick smile comes across your face, grinning around the now-lit cigarette in your mouth.

Isn't it funny how little words mean, when they're a little too late?

#here it is... i am nervous <3 #like i had fun writing it but is it any good?? time will only tell...#angst is difficult but very interesting to write #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 angst #the 1975 fic #teacher au!

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tadpolesonalgae · 8 months

Text

Azriel x Cam-Girl!Reader: His Personal Assistant

A/N: I just— Azriel in a suit and tie? Getting all hot and bothered because he recognises reader from her late-night streams that he spends his evenings watching? How am I supposed to resist that?

Also, apologies to anyone named Kieth :)

Warnings: slight work-place harassment

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Really?”

Helion gives you a smile, “I told you: anything. I can’t imagine why you would want to, but—”

You’ve already launched yourself at him, arms wrapping securely over his wonderfully muscled shoulders, dark skin contrasting gloriously with the crisp white polo he’s wearing that stretches over his chest. The top few buttons are undone in the summer heat, giving a simultaneously tantalising and teasing view. Enough to have your mouth watering, enough to pique your interest, but not enough to reveal anything else. An appetising suggestion.

“Thank-you!” You squeeze him tight and his laugh reverberates through your breasts, nipples peaking in response to the deliciously deep sound. His large hands span your waist, squeezing back and his breath tickles your neck. You press a smacking kiss to his cheekbone, sliding down his body until your flats land on the terrace—warmed by the sun.

“I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me by the end of the month, Luscious,” he chuckles, using your stage name, releasing you as you step away again, still smiling broadly. “I think you’ll be bored to tears by the end of your first day there.”

“Nonsense. I’ve always wanted to see how normal people live their lives,” you counter, grinning confidently. “Besides, how did you manage? It’s not like I have a particularly outstanding CV or anything…” You squint your eyes at him, “what strings did you pull to get me this job?”

Helion smiles, gesturing to continue the walk through his garden. “A good friend from my university days owed me a favour for something in the past,” he explains, eyes twinkling. “One of his directors has a habit of overworking himself—he thinks a personal assistant might do the trick. You’ll be there to give them an extension on finding a suitable fill for the role.”

Your nose crinkles a little, “so…what’ll I be doing? And what sort of job is it? Tell me I’m going to get one of those fancy chairs. You know, all big and executive? That have wheels on the bottom and spin around?” You ask excitedly. You gasp, “will I get a desk, too?” Helion laughs again, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “You’ll be filled in on the details when you get there. As far as I know, it’ll be fairly straight forward: photocopying, emailing, getting coffees—general admin tasks.”

Sounds fun—interesting.

“You probably won’t sit in on any meetings, since he runs a pretty prestigious law firm, but hopefully it won’t be too much of a bore.” He winks over his shoulder and you grin broadly. “How big is the building? Is it far from me?”

“Yes, it’s a skyscraper. And about a twenty minute drive—if you avoid rush hour,” he replies, moving toward the fountain. You could whoop with joy, but manage to restrain yourself. “Thanks again, Helion,” you say, still bursting with happiness—you’re going to get to work a real, normal job!

Your boss just grins over his shoulder, eyes gleaming, “don’t thank me yet.”

You don’t really consider his warning, instead launching more questions his way: What will you wear? How long is the work day? Will you get a decent lunch break?

————

Monday morning, you’re up and ready.

You’d selected your clothes the day before, having gone on a mini shopping spree to get in some appropriate attire for a law firm—which was both and arduous and fun task. A law firm…how grown-up!

The week before, you’d poured over the short and concise email you’d been forwarded from Helion, informing you about dress codes, break times, and when you’re expected to be there, accompanied with parking directions. You’d smiled to yourself that night, before stripping off your clothes, hopping in your shower, then switching on the webcam as you settled in your spare bedroom.

Helion hadn’t been lying when he’d told you the building was a skyscraper, complete with large windows and—most impressively—solar panels covering the elevated roof. The sun is out, making you second guess your cardigan, but hopefully there will be AC inside to counteract the heat. Checking your phone for the email, you step inside the building.

Five minutes later, you’re knocking on a looming door that leads to a room overlooking the entire city—he’s on the top floor. When there’s no answer, you peer at your phone, rereading the email. You’re definitely where you’re supposed to be—maybe a little early, but that’s never a bad thing. You perk up when you hear your name, footsteps drawing closer as you turn to greet whoever it is.

You conceal your shock perfectly—he’s so young! He can’t be older than his early-thirties—and so handsome, too! What a pleasant surprise. Your red-painted lips split into a carefully crafted smile, designed to be both alluring and demure, extending your hand before you, “I am expected, aren’t I?”

The man stops before you, eyes flicking to your hand as he grasps it firmly, gaze piercing into you. The shake is firm and assertive, more of a yank on your arm than the polite gesture you had expected. “You were supposed to wait at reception to be escorted to my office,” he says in a stern, but not unkind, voice. “I was expecting to find you there, but it seems you like to take initiative.”

Your smile morphs to a grin, “that I do.”

His lip twitches, but he gestures to his door, walking inside as he moves for his desk, muttering something under his breath: handful, indeed. You shut the door behind yourself, the slightly clouded floor to ceiling windows that separate his office from the hallway registering dimly in the back of your mind.

“You must be Rhys, then. The friend Helion mentioned,” you probe, taking the seat in front of his large desk. The chair is wonderfully comfy, making you want to purr. Somehow, you don’t feel he would appreciate the reaction. “Rhysand, yes. But you will not be addressing me so,” he replies smoothly, opening his suitcase and pulling out his laptop. “How much has Helion told you about your work experience?” He asks without looking up, preoccupied with commencing what is probably his daily routine of work.

“He said something about working as a temporary P.A. to one of your workaholic directors,” you drawl. There’s that lip twitch again. Not too bad, then. First impressions seem to be going okay. “He also mentioned not getting any ideas concerning bringing my prior work experience to your firm,” you say smoothly, offering a polite smile, watching for his reaction.

He doesn’t remove his attention from the laptop, deft fingers already flying over the keys, features a mask of vague amusement as he gives a brief nod. Right, a power play, then. He wants to make it clear that you’re working for him—one step out of line and you’re done. At least, that seems to be the rough message he’s sending.

“Say, did Helion mention anything about that?” You ask, feeling him out a little. “About what?” He asks, absently. Definitely a line in the sand. Helion must have mentioned your attitude. Fine, then. You can play pretty-personal-assistant. You can be a good little corporate slave. That’s your talent, after all: switching your personas to keep people at your feet.

“About my main job. In entertainment?” You ask, the smile turning demure, while keeping your tone polite. “I know his own line of work, yes. And no.” He looks up from his laptop, eyes turning cold and stern, “you are not to indulge in any sort of work that does not relate directly to tasks you have been given by my Director.”

Your smile widens a little, “understood, Mr. Rhysand Sir.”

————

Helion hasn’t prepared you enough.

Why hadn’t he mentioned the man you’d be working for has looks to put your male counterparts to shame? With a face like that, you’re mildly surprised your underwear stays on and doesn’t drop to your ankles. That a puddle of wetness doesn’t seep into the chair you’re currently seated on.

You stand to greet him, holding out your hand, hoping he’ll be a little gentler than Rhys was. But as soon as his eyes settle on you—red lips, pretty pearl earrings, sweet little pencil skirt—nothing. Not even a blink, or a double-take. Not even a roll of his throat. And it seems his eyes have already flicked back to the CEO by the time you’ve realised he is blatantly refusing to shake your hand. Your teeth grind as you bring your arm back to yourself. For a brief moment you wonder if it’s distain for your occupation—but Rhys had made it very clear he’s the only one who knows about your situation, so it can’t be that.

Of course you get stuck with the pissy, entitled Director who probably thinks women still belong solely in the kitchen and are only good for popping out babies one after another. You feel bad for his wife—if he has one. You should have given some thought regarding to the type of men you’ll be dealing within this discipline. Probably grew up with topiary surrounding his father’s estate, with an obscenely long gated driveway to flaunt it. His own house probably came with underfloor heating and bedrooms that are purely decorative. Probably says scone instead of scon.

“This is my Director, Azriel. Azriel, this young lady will be helping relieve your obscene workload,” Rhys introduces, a plain smile on his handsome face that somehow isn’t as interesting now that this classically-carved, marvellously-muscled, entitled ass has entered your world. “This is her?” He asks, keeping his attention off you. Not showing so much as an ounce of respect. He’s getting on your nerves and you’ve known him less than a minute.

Rhys nods his head once, a swift, concise movement, “correct. You will show her around the firm, demonstrate how to use the necessary equipment, and make sure she is working to the overall exceptional degree that is expected within my company.” Internally, you’re trying to keep yourself together—remarkably tricky. Working to not just a satisfying, but an exceptional degree? With this stick in the mud? All too suddenly, Helion’s warnings are making sense.

Azriel barely nods, “understood.”

He turns for the door, a silent dismissal passing between them, not once looking at you as he makes for the exit. It takes less than a second for you to realise he’s expecting you to follow behind him, like an obedient dog, but you manage to make a graceful exit, muttering a relatively polite, thank-you for your time to Rhys before you’re striding to match Azriel’s brisk pace. You’re not sure he’s even doing it intentionally, with those long legs of his—finely muscled, just like the rest of him. Dickhead.

————

The first place he takes you to is his own office, stopping by to drop off his satchel and turn his laptop on, preparing for the long day ahead. Then he’s escorting you out, striding down the hallway, directing you to a new location. It’s all rather terrifying—the speed and precision with which he conducts himself. Brutal efficiency lacing every movement.

You pick up your own pace to match his, having to kick up to a slightly faster walk than usual to keep up with him. He shows you to your temporary office—across the hall from his own—along with how to use the photocopying feature on the chunky block of machinery at the side of the lounge, as well as how to scan documents in. He shows you once how to do everything, then lets you try your hand at it. Unsurprisingly, you stumble the first two times, either forgetting to select an A4 sized piece of paper, or forgetting to make sure the documents are scanned in with colour.

Despite his previously sour attitude, he’s patient with your learning, not snapping at you when you get something wrong. Not encouraging you, either. You can’t tell where you stand, and as a socialite, it unnerves you—you can’t get a read on him. But you can’t let him intimidate you. He seems like the type to go for blood if he detects it.

“We’ll move on to filing,” he says, once you successfully scan, and photocopy a Grant of Probate, and driving licence. “Any questions?” You get the vague impression it’s not a sincere offer, but maybe you’re making unjust inferences based on the assumptions of his character. Maybe that’s also why you ask the first thing that pops into your mind. “Do you think you could slow your pace a little?” You give him a shy smile, aiming for humour as an ice-breaker, “I’m surprised my heels haven’t fallen off with how fast you’re going.”

His features don’t shift. Not even a twitch of the lips, like with Rhys. He only nods curtly, then sets off at a slightly less demanding pace than before, heading to his office. On the way, you pass by a young man who seems to be a similar age to you—perhaps a little younger— with light brown skin, eyes the colour of matcha tea, and lashes you would die for. He gives you a polite, albeit shy, smile as he passes, which you return.

“Who was that?” You ask nosily once the young man has passed.

“That was Gabrielle. He’s doing an apprenticeship under Kieth. You might run into the two of them over your time here; Gabrielle will have similar tasks as you.” Azriel explains in his monotonous voice—strangely pleasant. You wonder what it would sound like first thing in the morning. You smile mischievously to yourself as you imagine getting him into your bed. All the ways you could blow his mind. You have a hard time imagining he’s particularly fun in the sheets, with his stick-in-the-mud attitude and stick-in-the-mud character.

“And what about Kieth? Is he also a Director? Like you, Azriel?” His eyes flick briefly to you—light brown—before cutting ahead. “Correct.”

You resist the urge to lick your lips. You already know you’re going to fuck him—it’s just a matter of figuring out what kind of woman he wants. You’re going to break him down, until he’s begging for more. No matter Rhys probably won’t want you sleeping with one of his directors behind his back, but he’s not going to find out.

Azriel won’t even know what hit him until his knees are buckling.

You eye the way his suit seems be perfectly tailored to every round muscle, every bone and fibre of his body. Wrapped to perfection, like a sweet, little Christmas present for you to rip into.

————

As soon as you’re home, you’re stepping into the shower, needing to release the tension from your shoulders.

He’d worked you within an inch of your life.

At first, you’d made his coffee too hot, then it was too sweet, and the third time he seemed to have given up, grunting after the first sip—though it was finished by lunch. Then, he’d had you scan a two-hundred page document to him, which had taken you an hour and five minutes of monotonous lowering the machines lid, allowing the blinding white light to slide beneath the glass, changing the page, lining up the corners, then repeating the whole process. It was a task in itself to not drift off and forget if you’d already scanned in a page. Not to mention the additional half an hour spent waiting for the damn file to send.

That hadn’t even been the worst of it. The entire afternoon had been spent filing: finding papers that needed to be strung into the same file, ordering them chronologically—which sometimes meant removing months worth of documents just to slide one stupid printed email to the back of a Correspondence File.

The upside of the afternoon? It had presented you with many opportunities to bend over a cabinet, leaning on a file draw while you sorted through the papers to find the date you were searching for. You’d switch it around sometimes, too, leaning so you were facing him, flashing him a peak down your shirt every now and then.

The downside of the afternoon? His eyes had never left his computer. It was like you didn’t even exist. What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of fate when a pretty lady is offering a plentiful view of her backside? What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of you when you offer him a chance? It’s insulting…but you suppose it’s only been one day. Maybe he’s shy—you’ll have to step up your game.

Maybe you can spill some coffee between his legs. Or wear one of your more sheer tops with a dark bra. Or un-pop a few buttons on your shirt when he works you too hard. Really, he has no right to be so focused on his work when you’re in the same room as him, in your pretty little heels, and pretty little cardi, and pretty little skirt.

Maybe he doesn’t want pretty and little, though. Maybe you should try to be a little more “executive”, like him.

You fall asleep pretty promptly that night, schemes for how to ruffle Azriel’s feathers playing through your devious, sex-addled brain.

You still have a whole month to get him addicted to you. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

————

When you get in the next morning—a whole half an hour before you’re required—you head straight to your office. Only to see Azriel already sat at his desk, deft fingers flying over the keys, looking as stern as yesterday. Why is he in at 7:30 in the morning? From the look of it, he’s been there for a while already.

His dark eyes flick over the lid of his sleek laptop, catching you watching. Without so much as a word of greeting, he returns his attention to his computer, “you aren’t due for another half an hour.” Even if it isn’t a direct invitation, you step into his office, moving to be a few steps from his large desk. “I was planning on secretly sneaking in a couple of practice runs for coffee this morning, but it seems you’ve caught me,” you reply, gently.

Nonsense. You’re supposed to be mirroring him today. People like others who operate in similar styles to them, so you’ll act like a calmer counterpart—more feminine. Softer at the edges. So you straighten a little, standing with elegant poise, raising your chin ever so slightly. “You don’t need thirty minutes to make a good cup of coffee,” he says, eyes remaining on the screen of his computer. “Come back in half an hour when the work day commences.”

“No filing you want me to do? Get me warmed up for the work day?” You ask casually, as if remarking on the weather. His brow dips almost imperceptibly, “come back at Eight.”

“Just eager to help with your workload, Azriel.” You nearly smack yourself as the habitual lilt honeys your tongue. Executive. Not flirtatious. You clear your throat, trying again. “Eight it is, then. I’ll be here on the dot.”

You close the door behind you, heading across the hallway to your office, settling down into your chair—that has wheels. If everything else is miserable, at least you can roll across the floor with ease. You tap your desk restlessly, before logging onto the computer. As soon as you lay eyes on the digital scans from yesterday in your emails, you spin to the side and pull out your phone. Time for an update, anyway.

Undoing enough buttons to easily reveal your tits, hiking up your skirt, you snap a pretty picture, uploading it with a few taps of your fingers. The light is catching on your shiny red lips, making them appear plump, and Luscious. The image loads quickly, followed by a short caption. Getting a little handsy at work. Think I should fuck my boss? xxx

Deciding to be productive, you set yourself straight, and make for your door. You’d passed a coffee house on the way in, and just because you can’t make the bitter liquid in a way to satisfy him, doesn’t mean somebody else can’t be called in. Surely a barista will be a suitable improvement.

————

When you return, you decant the coffee into a nondescript white mug, careful not to burn yourself while handling the hot liquid. Maybe you undo an extra button, too, so he’ll have a little treat when you lean down to place the mug on his desk.

It’s eight on the dot when you knock on his door before before entering. Your plans are fucked sideways when you spot another man stood in his office. Legs in the usual man-spread, a little wider than shoulder width apart, with his hands in his pockets. Someone who’s used to feeling at ease in most spaces, who’s confident in his ability to own and dominate any room he’s in. He reeks of entitlement.

However, you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns at the sound of the door opening, eyes running appreciatively up and down your body, resting for an inappropriate moment on your chest—the undone button. He’s blandly handsome, with a hard jaw and slightly wavy brown hair that’s pushed back from his face. A slight shadow of stubble is already darkening his chin, not enough to look raggedy—more rugged masculinity. It suits him.

“And who’s this little lady?” The man asks, interest sparking in his chocolatey brown eyes. You smile, extending the hand that’s not holding his coffee, “I’m his Personal Assistant—”

“Secretary.” Your attention flicks to Azriel, but he’s eyeing the man before you, sternly. “She’s filling the role of my secretary, until a permanent replacement is found.” You fight the urge to furrow your brow, instead returning your attention to the man before you, who’s still regarding you with male interest.

“There you go then,” you smile, red lips parting enough to lift into a small grin, “I’m his secretary.” His large hand grips yours roughly—demandingly—as he shakes it. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Secretary,” he replies, mouth lifting into a charming grin. “I’m another Director here.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as he leans in, breath smelling faintly of mint, “the better one, that is.” He winks then stands straighter, and you release a soft laugh. “I don’t suppose you have a role open for a secretary, do you?” You tease back, noting the way his eyes flicker with approval.

“If one ever opens up, you’ll be the first one I contact. Personally,” the man drawls, eyes again dipping to your chest, and you can practically see the fantasies in his gaze. Maybe you’re wasting your time on Azriel.

But then the man turns away from you, “how come you’re treated to a Personal Assistant? Where’s my pretty lady to get me coffee in the morning?” You smile dutifully at the flattery, but Azriel looks mildly pissed off. “She’s my secretary, and she does a lot more than get me coffee in the morning,” he says sharply.

You take the chance to walk round to Azriel’s side of the desk, leaning over slightly as you place the coffee beside him. You intentionally angle your body away from the man, showing the discreet view to Azriel, but his eyes aren’t on you. You don’t really have the time to be frustrated with his lack of attention. “I’m sure she does.”

Woah. That has to be some sort of HR violation.

“Kieth.” Azriel barks, breaking you out of your stare. Thunderclouds have gathered in his eyes, and you can’t help the way your spine straightens. “She’s on work experience. That is not appropriate.” The man—Keith—isn’t deterred, instead flashing you a panty-dropping grin, “not even making him pay?”

You take a step back from Azriel, leaving an appropriate distance between your bodies as you turn to face Kieth. A feline smile slices your lips, eyes flicking to Azriel, making a show of looking him up and down, then back to Kieth. “With a pretty face like that? Never.”

You know Kieth gets the message—how you’ve stood yourself at his side, the opposing end of the desk that serves as a metaphorical wall. You’re aligning yourself with Azriel, and you can practically see Kieth marking the invisible leash you’ve silently suggested is connecting you to him.

If Kieth wants you, he’s going to have to go through Azriel.

———

Despite the seemingly clear alliance formed earlier that day, all traces of camaraderie had dissipated the moment Kieth removed himself from Azriel’s office. It seemed apparent that it was something about the opposing Director that got his panties in a twist, and you needed to investigate.

That being said, even after the team-up, nothing changed between the two of you. He was just as quiet as usual—almost sullen—not even sparing you a glance. You can’t figure out what’s not clicking for him. He has a woman all to himself for most hours of the working day, yet that’s all he seems to be doing: working.

What’s wrong with him?

The only time he’d paid you an ounce of attention was this morning, and since then—nothing.

You flop into bed, tired and frustrated. It’s proving more difficult than anticipated. It’s not like you haven’t had men who’ve taken a while to warm up to you before, but this is unreasonable. He seems completely uninterested. Utterly unbelievable.

The only logical conclusion you can come to is that it must be intentional. Any normal person would make eye contact with someone entering their space, or at least look up. And you’ve been in his office when other people have come in—Gabrielle popped in to ask after a particular file that Kieth had been after—and he’d functioned reasonably then.

It’s iron will that’s walling him off from you. And how are you supposed to break through a self-imposed barrier?

Easy.

You ware him down until the walls turn to dust, then you sweep in, and dominate. Crush down and obliterate.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#azriel #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #shadowsinger #modern!acotar #modern!azriel #modern!azriel x reader #corporate!azriel #His Personal Assistant #His PA

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neet-elite · 9 days

Text

↳ EVENT 01. Whitney Worship

Pairing: Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,652 Warnings: OOC, body worship, general worship, older whitney, fingering, established relationship, consent checks, praise kink Prompt(s): 05 — worship Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: YAYYYY thank you so much bby for being my first event request eee!!! my biggest fan MWAH smooching u sm right now. so happy i get to start this event off with something soft and loving <3 sending u so much love, thank u sm for your kind words and for always supporting me!!

(also i really want some more soft whitney content... u cant convince me that this man wouldn't absolutely dote on you the older he gets </3)

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he's always felt this way about you. A bit difficult not to, his heart stuttering from the first moment he met you, blindsided by how much he wanted to be yours— enough that his need remained buried under layers of dominance and control for years to come. But the stubborn little boy you learned to love was incapable of expressing his emotions correctly, in a way that could ever truly be understood; and yet you loved him anyway. Even through all the harsh words, the endless name calling, and the straight up abuse he had you suffer through, you loved him. How you're still by his side is beyond him, a twinge of hurt in his chest burrowing down to his tummy, soothed only by the cute little mewl you instinctively know to let out in encouragement. Describing himself as thankful doesn't even do his emotions justice, and words of praise even less so— though still he tries.

This is the least he could do in return for all those awful years he subjected you to. A gentle promise spread across the pad of his thumb, rubbing tenderly up and down your hip for you to giggle at. And God, what a pretty sound that is. You can hear how it tugs at his heart, can't you? Surely, because he can barely hear himself think over the loud thump in his chest. How even the comparatively innocent touch of his free hand squeezing at your waist is charged with intent, the way your pretty lashes flutter under him as his nails drag up and down your exposed skin so lightly that it must tickle causing his breath to hitch. He can't help but mumble a pitiful pretty, and pitiful is correct, because he's so fucking down bad for you that it's insane. Should be illegal, if he had anything to say about it. Pouting down at you when you whisper his name, followed by a sweet thanks that God he just wants to drink up, biting down on his bottom lip to try and hide the wide smile your dulcet tones bring out of him— but it's no use. Of course you can see right through him. Always have, only now he's not so afraid to hide his true nature.

That being his complete and utter adoration for you and your pretty little body, soft skin hot under his rough hands; it's nice, yknow. To just touch you like this, ignoring the underlying hint of greed shown in the tent in his underwear in favour of rewarding you simply for existing. Because you deserve to be treated like the best thing that's ever happened to him; because you are. And he needs to do right by you now, make up for his past mistakes with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in faux playful annoyance over your holier than thou position beneath him. The bottom truly holds all the power, don't you, love?

"I meant it. Too fuckin' pretty, s'annoying." He smiles, toothy and genuine when you smile back up at him. And he does mean it, fuck does he mean it. Leaning down a little to give your forehead a little kiss, trailing his lips down to your cheek only to place another, smiling against your skin when you giggle at his barely there touch grabbing at your waist to keep you in place for him to press a few more kisses at the corner of your lips in a teasing manner— a hoarse be patient crawling up his throat when you try to wiggle free to give him a proper kiss, but he soon gives in to your cuteness anyway. Letting his tongue poke out just a little against your lips, chest vibrating with a satisfied hum he moans down your mouth when you reciprocate the lewd action. But still, he'd like to take his time. Making out with you so slowly, still letting his hands roam up and down your naked body with purpose, as if mapping every possible inch of you in the event that you were to ever leave him— the thought of which has him kissing you deeper in a silent beg for you to stay. See, I love you.

Running his wide open palms up to your tits, letting himself cup them as delicately as possible as if he were afraid that anything stronger would have you shattering beneath him; a far cry from his younger self, he internally cringes at the memory. But in his kiss there lies hope. Hope for a better future, to become a better man for you. And that starts here, with every suck of your tongue inside his wanting mouth, every drop of shared saliva down each others throats, and every grope of his big hand against your tits. The other rests idly at your waist, dipping down just to playfully pinch at the fat of your thighs; one of his favourite places to be between.

He pulls away from your lips when he feels you do the same, enamoured by the string of saliva still stretched between his lips and your own as if it were an extension of you, and by that he means deserving of all the love he can muster. When you simply stare up at him with those big puppy eyes he has to bury his face against your chest just to hide the creeping heat on his cheeks, content enough to turn his attention to your tits with one getting palmed by his hand, and the other receiving his mouths tender treatment. Surely you won't complain about his cowardly hiding if he were to devote more time to pleasing you, right? Lapping at your nipple like a kitten, savouring every sigh, hiccup, and moan you make while he busies himself with indulging in your taste. Worshipping every inch of you as he shuffles his body closer between your legs, gasping into the feeling of his rock hard cock rubbing against his underwear which rests heavy at your cunt. Not that he has any intention of doing anything about it, because loving and doting on you is pleasurable enough for him, slurping and sucking and pinching as a means to communicate: I'm sorry, let me make it up to you.

Because he's never really been the best with words, opting instead to pop off of your pretty tits with a loud smack! only so that he can see how cute your expression gets when you feel his hand travel further south, ghosting over your skin just to have you shiver into him, make you feel as good as you've treated him, yeah?

"Dunno what I'd do without you," He sighs, almost whispering from how sincere his words are. "Wanna show you how much y'mean to me. S'at okay?"

Instinct begs him to attach slut on the end of his question, but your wide eyes and rushed gasp in shock of how soft he's being convinces him not to.

You take a moment to reply, and in the meantime he takes to running a single finger up and down your already sopping slit. Proof enough of how much you love him, and yet still he feels the need to earn your affections again and again, sorry remaining at the tip of his tongue regardless of how often you remind him it's okay.

But when you give him a sure nod he's immediately filled with boyish confidence, determined to prove his worth for as long as he needs to in order to properly apologise to you, and then to revere you as you rightfully deserve. He knows he's got his work cut out for him, but he's nothing if not stubborn when it comes to you, for better or for worse.

"Thank you." He whispers this time, finally allowing his fingers to stretch your folds open for him to gawk at. Hearts in his eyes and all, fuuuuck, he has to fight with himself not to tug his boxers down and just shove his cock in right there and then— because he's meant to be worshipping you. But you make it incredibly difficult for him to focus on anything other than how fraught with sheer desperation he is for you, distracting himself from his more indulgent thoughts by thumbing at your clit, clenching his teeth at the sweet little sounds his fingers touch out of you. Reaaaally taking his time, perhaps a bit too much so when your lower half wiggles under his thumb. Inwardly, he laughs at his previous words of patience; don't you know that he's trying to love on you?

"Need it that much, huh?" He gently taunts, though there's no malice in his words. Just amused domesticity, a certain warmth to his tone borne out of complete admiration for how... Well, if he's honest with himself, how perfect you are— in every respect! Every fibre of his being just begging to be allowed to worship you for the rest of his life, to have you see yourself the way he sees you.

You once again nod up at him, pretty pleading eyes coaxing him to fall further into you, to rub meaner circles against your puffy little clit like he's done plenty times before; except you're asking for it now. And there's no greater feeling in the world than to have his prayers answered as your slick coats his fingers in anticipation for his praises.

"All right then, pretty girl. Ask and you shall receive."

And true to his words, he slides his fingers down your slit and dips into your cunt. Just a little, and only one finger. The lazy pace of his actions frustrating even him, but he knows it'll all be worth it. Has to be, especially when you're huffing so cutely back at him given all his teasing thus far, jus' a little more he promises you, unsure if he's even telling the truth when you mewl all pretty and shit— God you're gonna be the death of him. Torn between teasing you all night, prolonging his prayers until the sun comes up, or giving you the release you're so desperately seeking, every squeak of the bed below your movements hypnotising him further. All he wants to do is make you feel good, praise your body to the high heavens, kiss every single inch of your skin and whisper sweet nothings against your cunt. A simple ask, really, considering you're more than wanting him to do exactly that.

So he follows through, lazily pushing a single finger inside of your warm little hole and he practically melts himself from the heat wrapped around his digit. How soft and fuckin' tight your little cunt is around him, the slow nature of his loving tonight allowing him to experience you in a whole new way; something more akin to appreciation, rather than the days of greed in the past.

"Feel okay?" He checks in with you, though there's really no need. He can tell from a mile away that your scrunched up little nose means you're having fun, but it's nice to ask anyway. If only to boost his own ego, or to show that he's serious about changing for you. "You feel— I mean, fuck. Always feel amazing," He swiftly corrects himself, chewing on his bottom lip out of habit while curling his finger inside of you, gently pulling it out and pushing back in— a slow enough pace to give you a little relief whilst also keeping you on that edge he'd like you to be at. "Always have, best cunt I've ever fucked." He's being sincere, but he cringes at the crass way his praise comes out anyway. That is until he takes a look at your face, peeling his gaze off of your finger swallowing hole for just a moment, and he bares witness to the lewd look you've now adopted.

Fuckin' praise slut, he should have known it all along, but having confirmation in the form of your rolled back eyes from a single fucking finger was worth the wait. You're worth the wait, and he can only hope that he is too when he picks up the pace. Just a little, encouraging you to writhe around a bit more, cooing down at you so sweetly in stark contrast to his usual self.

"Look so pretty like that," the finger inside of you buries deeper, curling consistently against your sweet spot until you're practically clawing at his wrist for some respite— but it doesn't come. Not out of spite, but out of love for you, he continues crooking his fingers against your squishy insides because he knows what that whine means. Gushy little cunt wrapped so tight around his finger, sucking him further in despite your desperate whines for a break. All he does is hush you tenderly, tongue between his teeth in fear of snapping and reverting back to his old manners when you look so fucking perfect with his finger inside of you, his eyes flickering between your pretty face, heaving tits, and your shiny with slick cunt.

"C'mon—" He seethes, brows furrowed in concentration of praising you, getting you off on his hand would be the highest compliment, he thinks. "Let me make you feel good, jus' give in, 'kay? He encourages, a sinful smirk tugging at his lips when your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Got you, he thinks to himself. Cock twitching merely from getting you off, from making you moan his name all high pitched and pretty like that while you gush around his finger, soaking through to the bed sheets below when he starts finger fucking you again to help you ride your orgasm out nicely. And the whole time he's thanking you. Softly rubbing up and down your side, occasionally groping at your tits, tugging at your ass while your insides convulse around him. Thank you, he sighs. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for sticking with me."

"Thank you for letting me see you like this."

"Thank you for believing in me."

"Thank you for cumming on my hand."

And even as he removes himself from you he's still worshipping you, practically eye fucking you as he shifts his weight down, ending up half laying on the edge of the bed to tug you closer, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs so he can sniff up and down your slick soaked slit. Vulgar as always, but it doesn't matter when he's so pussy whipped it's almost laughable, right? Maybe he should feel ashamed about how much he wants you, embarrassingly acting like a dumb dog when faces with your cunt like this— salivating from your scent alone. But upon sticking his tongue out flat against your slit to lap up all your sweet juices he figures it doesn't really matter. It couldn't matter when you taste this fucking good, cock leaking fat globs of precum from just a single suck of your clit. He quickly runs a hand through his hair, flipping his fringe up and out of the way for easier access to your sweet soaked cunt, he's serious about this, don't you know?

"Jus' cleanin' y'up." He slurs against your hole, wincing with you when you complain about how sensitive you are.

But that's okay, because if you cum on his tongue (which he's hoping for, fuck he wants you to gush in his mouth please—) then he'll just help you clean up again. And again. And again. As many times as he needs to until you instinctively know how worthy you are of worship, and how he loves you just oh so much.

#500 event!#i hate that this is technically an “aged up” writing but yknow #HES ALREADY AN ADULT ITS OK #dol smut #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

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miasmaghoul · 1 year

Note

WET DREAM RAIN WET DREAM RAIN (please)

Hgkngjf

So W E T

He/they Rain because I can <3

Swiss loves sleeping with Rain.

Not just for the sex, though that's certainly a nice perk, but for the closeness. Rain is not a touchy person in their day to day, generally keeping to themselves. Not for any malicious reason, he just prefers his personal space. Swiss gets it, there are days where he can't stand the thought of being flattened at the bottom of a ghoul pile either.

But moments like this are a different story entirely. Rain becomes so very tactile once they've made it to a bedroom, once the door is locked and Swiss is all they have. Rain glues himself to Swiss then - presses against his back while Swiss brushes his teeth, plays with his hair while they read, lays on Swiss's chest with their legs tangled together while they talk about absolutely nothing of importance.

Moments full of little touches that eventually gain greater intent. A hand on the back of a neck, or under a shirt. The press of a thigh to someone's groin. A huffed chuckle of "Yeah? You want it?" followed by a happy sigh and a deep kiss that goes filthy almost immediately.

They fit each other so well. Swiss runs warm while Rain's elemental nature leaves them naturally cool. His long fingers sink so easily into the soft spots at Swiss's sides, along his throat, through his hair. Into his body, accompanied by shiver-inducing words and hitched breaths.

Rain feels the same, they've said as much. Whispering with shy reverence about how well Swiss stretches him, fills him up and overloads his brain. How Swiss can open them up physically and emotionally in a way the other ghouls couldn't quite match. Every encounter feels full, round at the edges and wholly satisfying.

Then they sleep, and that's Swiss's favorite part.

His fingers drift in aimless swirls over Rain's thigh, the water ghoul still snoring softly into his pillow. It's midday judging by the way the spring sunlight pours from between the heavy navy drapes. The air is thick with lavender and rose, sweet scents carried from the nearby gardens mingling with the heady aroma stuck in Swiss's nose.

Rain is pressed against his bare chest, their sleep shirt caught up around their ribs. Swiss's other arm is around his waist, fingertips teasing the trail of soft hair poking out of Rain's boxers.

His soaking wet boxers.

Rain lets out a sigh between snores and Swiss groans in the back of his throat as he watches the dark spot on the gray fabric grow. Whatever Rain is dreaming about, he hopes he's part of it. The musk of a salty sea breeze hangs around them, and Swiss really has to make an effort not to grind his aching cock against Rain's sleeping form.

He's been awake for a while now, and this has only been getting worse. Rain's little movements were what had dragged him awake in the first place, their hips shifting as quiet moans fell from their lips. Swiss is a light sleeper while Rain could sleep through a jet engine falling on the abbey, so the multighoul has been awake ever since. Watching. Listening. Fattening up against Rain's back. He wishes he hadn't slept naked last night.

The water ghoul lets out a particularly high-pitched whine in his sleep and Swiss has to bite his lip to keep from moaning into Rain's skin. Their slick has started to soak through the back of their boxers, and Swiss can feel it rubbing off on his own thighs and stomach with every move Rain makes. It's maddening. His dick kicks in the space he's trying so hard to keep between his crotch and Rain's ass.

He doesn't want to wake Rain up. That feels selfish, unnecessary. But between those pretty sounds and the way Rain's hips keep moving, the way he's drooling onto pillow below, Swiss is sure it would be worth it. He presses a kiss to Rain's shoulder.

"Rainbow?" Swiss says it so softly it's nearly drowned up by the birds singing in the garden. "You awake?"

Another snore, another twitch in Rain's boxers. That would be a no, then. Swiss groans into Rain's skin. He can't wake them up, not when Rain is so clearly lost in the pleasures on their own mind. No matter how much the slick spot that's now grazing the shaft of his leaking cock grows.

Swiss makes the impossible decision to retreat to the bathroom. To blow his load into the toilet and come back for more lazy cuddles. It's the sensible thing to do, the polite thing. Swiss carefully moves himself, unhooking his arm from Rain's waist and deliberately ignoring the unconscious whine of protest the water ghoul breathes out in response.

Swiss slides out from between the sheets in silence, holding his breath. Like he's trying to escape a wild animal instead of sneaking off to cream himself in Rain's bathroom. Rain turns onto his back in his sleep and Swiss feels like he's been punched in the gut.

Rain looks gorgeous. Their shirt is askew and rucked up even higher now, exposing the pale plane of their stomach. His cheeks are flushed and lips parted, breathing even but shallow. Rain's boxers are more obviously tented from this angle. And wet. So wet.

Swiss can't not stroke himself at the sight, just once. At the sense memory of Rain in his mouth last night, spilling pre down his throat. Of being pressed up against the shower wall with Rain's tongue in his ass. Of Rain riding him until their thighs gave out and Swiss had to wrap them in his arms, holding them to his chest and fucking them through both of their releases.

Rain's cock kicks hard enough that his whole body moves and Swiss has to look away. He's already dizzy enough without the phantom feeling of Rain's fluttering muscles around him. He turns with the intent of hurrying to the bathroom and yelps as he immediately stubs a toe on Rain's nightstand.

"Fucker!" It's bitten out between clenched teeth as Swiss hops on one foot, hissing. He tries to be quiet, but -

"Swiss?" Rain's voice is thick and slurred, like his tongue is too big for his mouth. He doesn't open his eyes, patting around him on the mattress. "Where'd you go?" Swiss sighs, reaching out to stroke Rain's cheek.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he murmurs, tucking a dark curl behind Rain's ear. They lean into the touch with a soft groan and their eyes crack open, cerulean blown nearly black. It goes straight to Swiss's dick. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he breathes, and he can't keep from crawling back up and slotting himself next to that lanky body. He presses a kiss to Rain's temple and the water ghoul gives a sleepy sigh.

"Was havin' a real good dream too," he yawns, humming happily as Swiss kisses his throat.

"I could tell," Swiss speaks into his skin, "you're soaked, tadpole." His hand drifts over Rain's stomach, coming to rest just above their still-tented boxers. Rain stiffens beneath him as they let out an embarrassed sound, burying their face in Swiss's hair.

"Fuck, again? 'm sorry, I -" Rain cuts himself off with a surprised chirp as Swiss catches him in a kiss. It doesn't last too long, the angle is awkward, but it's enough to quash the shame before Rain can try to hide his evidence. The water ghoul gasps when Swiss sucks at their lip before pulling back, callused fingers still grazing their exposed stomach.

"Tell me about it?" Rain moans, loud and wanton, when Swiss cups them though the damp fabric. "You always have the best dreams, wanna hear what made such a mess outta you."

"Shit," he gasps, sounding so very awake now. The rasp of arousal worming into his voice has Swiss shivering. "Yeah, yeah, I -" Rain clears their throat as Swiss starts sliding downwards, kissing over Rain's shirt and down onto soft skin, "I can do that."

Swiss settles between his legs and mouths at Rain through his boxers, watching the way the other ghoul's back arches. He tugs their underwear down and Rain gasps when Swiss starts lapping at this length, slow and messy. Savoring every last drop coating their heated skin.

"I wanna hear everything."

Swiss takes the tip into his mouth, and Rain melts.

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlet #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #swiss/rain #rulti #THERE IS NO SOMNO HERE DO NOT WORRY I'D SAY IF THERE WAS

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formula1fanfiction · 5 months

Text

Lando Norris / Carlos Sainz

Title: I know what i'm doing

Pairing: Lando Norris / Carlos Sainz

Characters: Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz

Prompt: Sainz-Norris, Norris congratulate Sainz after his first win in 2023 in Singapur

"Congratulations on the win Carlos." Lando leans against the wall of Carlos' hotel room trying to look as seductive as possible despite the pounding of his heart, he's going to make Carlos feel so good tonight.

"Thanks..." Is all Carlos says, he's got an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn't ask Lando why he's there, just stares at him. He's pretty sure Carlos knows exactly what he's got planned.

"Surprise" Lando said while gleefully pulling off his hoodie, revealing the red Ferrari Sainz shirt hiding underneath. Lando takes Carlos' surprise to his advantage and climbs on top of the Spaniard. Carlos squeezes Lando by the hips. "Wow, you look so good in my shirt."

"Do you really think so?" Lando asks innocently while rubbing his ass against the growing bulge in Carlos' boxer shorts. Carlos moans from the contact and squeezes Lando's hips tighter to keep him still.

"Fuck me, Lando." Carlos uses the grip on Lando's hips to try and flip him onto his back. No fuck that. Lando digs his feet into the mattress to keep himself up right. "Tonight is about celebrating you Carlos."

"Oh really?" Lando smiles with his most mischievous grin and pulls out a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs and locks Carlos left wrist to the bed frame, then pulling out a second pair to secure the right wrist. Carlos just lets him, way too confused to stop him. "What are you going to do now Carlos?" Lando rubs his ass against Carlos once again.

"I don't want to bottom?" Carlos pulls at his handcuffs, Lando just laughs at him. "Who said anything about bottoming?" Lando leans forward and presses his lips against Carlos' ear. "I'm going to ride you Carlos." A small smile creeps onto Carlos' face, feeling a lot more relaxed with his new development.

"If you are going to ride me, then why do I need to be tied up?" Carlos pulls at the handcuffs once again. "Stop it Carlos, we are celebrating you. Why don't you just sit back and enjoy the ride." Carlos groans and bucks up into Lando's ass.

"Calm down Carlos." Lando pulls out another pair of handcuffs "Or i'll tie your legs up as well." Lando never takes control in the bedroom, he's always happy for Carlos to do whatever the hell he wants. You'd think it be nice and sit back and relax for once.

Lando lifts his hips, just high enough to pull Carlos' boxers down. His dick springs free from its cotton prison and slaps Lando on the ass in the process. "Your cock can't wait to be inside of me Carlos." Lando giggles. "I hope you're not going to tease me too much Lando."

"We'll see." The mischievous grin returns to Lando's face as he quickly rids himself of his own boxers, his own cock slaps against his stomach. He couldn't tease Carlos too much even he wanted to his own cock is begging to be touched.

Lando reaches over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand and pours a generous amount onto his finger tips, before bringing them down to his hole. Carlos withers underneath him in anticipation. "Fuck Lando, you look so good like this."

Lando whines once he pushes the first finger into himself. Carlos looks at him with big sad eyes when Lando hisses in pain. "Lando-" He starts but Lando shakes his head, it always hurts at first. He's good. Lando recovers pretty quickly and starts to work the finger in and out of himself. He twists and turns the digit every now and again to stretch himself open that little bit more. Once Lando thrusts his finger in and out of himself easily. he nudges a second one next the first and slams the both of them in together. Lando scissors, twists his fingers and only then does he start to pound them in and out of himself. Eventually Lando works his way up to four fingers and thrust them in and out of himself easily. Only then does he let his fingers slip out.

"Fuck you're so hot Lando." Carlos groans, bucking up his hips his cock desperate for any type of friction. "Especially wearing my shirt, I only wish I could fuck you into the mattress." Lando giggles once again. "Maybe next time Carlos." Lando wraps his hand around Carlos' leaking member. "Instead you'll have to watch me ride this big boy."

"I'm going to make you feel so good Carlos." Lando brings the head of Carlos' cock to waiting entrance and starts to sink down onto him. Both of them let out satisfied moans. Lando's prepared himself really well and his ass easily accepts Carlos cock. His greedy hole just swallows his cock.

"So big." Lando moans, clenching and unclenching around Carlos, throwing his head back in pleasure. He's taken Carlos many times, but being impaled makes him feel impossibly big. "Stop moaning Lando, you've had this cock inside of you so many times."

"Fuck you Carlos." Lando pulls up his hips, so about half of Carlos' cock sits inside of him and slams back down again. Carlos cries out, Lando repeats the motion just to pull the same noise from Carlos.

"Lando, you feel so tight, fuck." Lando rocks himself backwards and forwards. "I feel so full Carlos, fuck I can't explain it." He half pants, half moans as he pulls himself up once again, only to slam back down again.

"Stop teasing me Lando." Carlos writhers underneath him and pulls out the handcuffs once again. If Carlos had his hands free, Lando knows he'd be fucked onto the mattress with a furious pace, turning Lando into nothing but a moaning mess. "I'm in charge tonight Carlos."

Lando pays attention to his own leaking cock and starts to stroking himself, using his own pre-cum as slick. He rocks against Carlos until he finds what he's looking for, moaning in pure pleasure. Lando rides Carlos, furiously making sure Carlos hits his prostate with every move. At this point he's basically using Carlos for his dick. Lando comes harder than expected his hips stutter as he spurts his thick load over Carlos' chest.

"Lando-" Carlos bucks up into him once again. "Don't worry Carlos, I haven't forgotten about you, don't worry." Lando starts bouncing up and down on Carlos a little harder now." He must be doing a good job, judging by the state of Carlos, his teeth are biting at his bottom lip while he moans loudly.

"You look so good like this Lando." Carlos looks at him like he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He feels good, the red Ferrari jersey sticks to him sweat, dried come over the both of them. "Do you think you can come again?"

Carlos is smirking now as he bucks up his hip and catches Lando on his prostate. He's over sensitive and it hurts a little bit at first but the more Carlos slams into him the pain soon turns to pleasure. Lando can't keep back his moan and Carlos looks so smug about it, despite being the one tied to the bed.

"I wanted to surprise you by wearing this, celebrate you Carlos. You deserve it." Lando gasps out between breaths. He digs his nails into Carlos' shoulders and let's him do his thing. Carlos can have control if he really wants it.

"Fuck Carlos, i'm so close." Lando whines, he's half aware than he's on his second orgasm and Carlos hasn't even come yet. Lando grinds down onto Carlos' meeting every hard thrust into his body, he needs this now, he's so close he can almost taste it. "

"Come for me Lando, come on." Carlos thrusts up extra hard and catches Lando's sweet spot, that's all it takes for Lando to lose it once again. He's screaming himself raw this time. Shouting Carlos' name over and over again as he spurts his load all over Carlos once again.

Carlos is thrusting into Lando with all his might now, chasing his own orgasm. It's taking ever little bit of strength for Lando to stop himself from collapsing into a boneless puddle on top of Carlos. Luckily Carlos isn't too far behind, he manages three more hard thrusts before he feels the warmth of Carlos' come filling him up.

Lando lets himself flop down onto Carlos now, he can feel the beating of Carlos' heart pounding against his own. It makes him, feel loved, happy, safe... "I hope I made you feel good Carlos, tonight is about you." Lando pants as he reaches up and unlocks both sets of handcuffs, freeing Carlos' hands.

Carlos doesn't hesitate for a single second and takes Lando into his big, strong safe arms and peppers kisses along his face. Lando sinks back into him. "You made me feel so good Lando, thank you."

Carlos looks Lando up and down, a cheeky smile forms on his lips. "You know what Lando? Red is really your colour, maybe you should ditch the papaya."

Lando giggles "I don't think Charles would be too happy about that."

#carlos sainz #lando norris #carlando #formula 1 fanfiction #fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #mxm #fanfiction #formula 1 #mxm smut #formula one

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obx-pogue4life · 2 years

Text

Good Morning, Lover

Summary: You and your boyfriend Drew wake up together and things immediately go from sweet to sexy after a little bit of teasing and you telling him exactly what you want.

Warnings: Swearing, dirty talking, slight breeding kink, dry humping, nipple play, slight roughness and just general smutty ideas and actions

It was a beautiful morning. You could see the sun starting to peek through the curtains and the birds were happily chirping outside. You could feel your boyfriend Drew’s strong arms hugging around your body from behind you as you contently snuggled into your pillow and pressed back towards him, perching your bottom right up against his bent knees. You could hear him softly snoring still and remembered back to a time when that used to bother you but now you find it the most comforting sound in the world. Smiling to yourself, you reach for his one hand that is draped across your hip and lace your fingers through his, bringing them up to your chest and cuddle into his arms even further. You feel so safe in his arms. So protected. You know that he would never let anything happen to you and that feeling was one you’d never had before you met him. He was your safe place.

You let out a happy and breathy sigh and innocently cuddled back into his body, moving your hips against him, causing him to stir a little. As you hugged his arm to your chest even tighter you felt him do the same back to you. With a knowing smile on his face, your boyfriend fluttered open his eyes and leaned close to your ear. “Good Morning, Lover,” he whispers throatily, in his raspy morning voice. You love how sexy he sounded in the morning, his voice made you instantly wet and caused you to blush at his sweet and sexy words. “Mmmm Lover,” you cooed back to him smiling. You could feel him starting to pull away from your grasp on his hand, so you let go and mentally prepared yourself for the inevitable task you were dreading, to actually getting out of bed this morning.

Just as you were about to pull the covers back, you feel Drew’s large hands begin to rub up and over your shoulder. He starts kissing your neck and you hum out in appreciation. “You are so beautiful, baby” he says in between kisses. He moves his lips to kiss behind your neck and then starts working his way down and peppers sweet kisses all along the center of your back until he reaches the base of your spine. Your body is on fire at the sensual feelings he is giving you and you can feel the wetness starting to pool between your legs. You’re both still laying on your sides as he grips your waist and roughly meets your back side to his rock hard cock.

“This is what you do to me, baby” he practically growls at you. “Can you feel how hard you make me?” he asks as he starts to dry hump his giant bulge against your ass. You mimic his motions back to him, grinding against his straining cock. “Mmmhmm,” was all you could manage to get out of your mouth. The sensation felt so good you were beginning to get lost in the rhythm when you felt his hand start make its way towards your chest. The way his fingertips were slowly grazing over your sensitive skin was sending shivers all throughout your body.

Once his hand reaches your breasts you could feel him try to grasp as much of them both with one hand as he could. He had such a want to touch you and feel as much of you as he could that he pawed away at you like a love starved teenager, but you didn’t care. Knowing that he wanted you so badly and the sensations he was creating for you felt so good that you never wanted him to stop. You could feel him ease up on the hurried squeezing and kneading of your breasts and slowly start to focus on your ever hardening nipples. He thumbed over one and then the other, making small circles over them, bringing them to their fullest peaks. The feeling of your bodies still grinding into each other and the pressure he was beginning to apply to your most sensitive buds was making you throw your head against his chest and moan out in pure pleasure. “That feels so good,” you breathily say, feeling your breathing start to pick up. He smirks and starts to lightly bite down your shoulder leaving a series of small red patches down your arm, on your skin. Once he reaches your elbow, he stops and licks a deliciously slow and tantalizing stripe back up and over the inflamed skin causing you to let out an animalistic groan and push your head and body even further back into his. You were squirming now and he has you right where he wants you. He takes the opportunity of you in your blissed out state to kiss your neck again, biting and suck on it, leaving his mark for all to see. “There’s gonna be no hiding that one, baby,” he says with a lusty tone as he bites and sucks another mark right next to the one he just made. “You’re mine and I want everyone to fucking know it.”

You murmer a pleasurably muffled “fuck Drew, fuck,” and feel that spark start burning inside of you. He kisses your neck one last time, licking and nipping at your bruising skin, and then gently turns you off of your side and onto your back. Your hands immediately stretch out above your head and he straddles you, interlocking both of your hands in his and presses his body firmly against you, leaning down you kiss your needy lips. He starts off gently and loving, grazing the pillowy skin in delicate and teasing movements. You squirm underneath him and you can feel him smile into the kiss. “Feels good, doesn’t it sugar,” you hear him say as he goes back in, deepening the kiss. His tongue overtakes yours as you let him take control and have his way with you. The way he kisses you is making you feel lightheaded and dizzy in the best way possible and completely enveloped in his love, his kiss saying what no words ever could. Your entire body is on fire and you don’t ever want him to stop making you feel the way he is making you feel at this moment.

Without breaking your passionate kiss, he slowly lets go of your hands and starts to trail them down your body. One hands stops to pinch and tease your nipple and the other glides over you stomach and makes it’s way towards your panties. The harder he pinches your nipple, the more you squirm. And the more you squirm, the wetter you become. Loving the way you are breathing heavily and writhing beneath him, he starts to cup your core over your panties, teasing you. He runs his long fingers over your clothed slit and can feel your wetness seeping through the lacy fabric. “Is this all for me, sweetheart?” he asks finally breaking the kiss and rolling onto his side next to you. Your face goes a slight shade of red as you nod yes. “Use your words baby, tell me how much you want me and what you want me to do to that dripping little pussy of yours.” he coaxes you.

You’re eyes go wide at his naughty question for you and while you are trying to find your voice, he slides your panties to the side and gently strokes your opening with one finger, just enough to make your breath hitch, and then stops. He pulls out his finger gleaming with your slick and licks a bit of it off. “You taste so sweet baby, wanna try some?” he asks you. You nod your head and he raises an eyebrow at you, silently telling you to use your words. “Yes, please,” you almost moan while he takes his finger and rests it on your bottom lip. You use both of your hands to grab his wrist and seductively lick his hand from the palm, right up the length of his finger. You take his whole finger into your mouth and swirl it around your tongue a little, licking every last bit of your slick off of it. You gently suck on it and look at him, innocently batting your eyes a little and he stares at you with such an amused and aroused face, you can’t help but smile. You pull his finger out of your mouth with a loud POP! and ever so gently put just the tip back in, close your eyes and lightly swirl it around your tongue before taking it all the way back into your mouth again. You give it one last swirl of your tongue and pull it out again, this time trailing his wet finger down your body. Starting at your bottom lip you begin to move it and you drag his finger down your neck, in between your breasts, over your stomach and let him stop at your aching center.

“I told baby, use your words. Tell me how much you want me and what you want me to do to that dripping pussy of yours.” he repeats again.

“Please,” you breathily plead.

“Please, what,” he smiles encouragingly. He knows you have a hard time vocalizing what you want in bed but it turns him on so much when you say what you’re craving from him that he can’t help but push you a little. Your shyness when it comes to those kinds of words drives him absolutely wild.

Looking him right in the eyes you can already feel your cheeks start to redden but you push thru noticing the love struck look on your boyfriends face. “I want you to fuck me , Drew,” you say quietly. He nods his head encouraging you to keep going as you feel your cheeks deepen to another stage of red. “I want to feel your massive cock inside me, so deep that I can’t think of anything else but how good you’re making me feel and how badly I want to cum. I want you to fuck me so hard that it leaves tears of pleasure streaming down my face and my whole body aching. I want you to be rough with me and I want you to stuff me with your cum and claim me as yours forever.”

The look on his face turned from love struck to complete and utter desire. He was practically drooling over your words. “You are so fucking sexy, baby,” he lowly says. “That is the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”

You turn yet another shade of red and he goes in to kiss you hard on the lips. You completely melt into his touch and as he pulls away, you expect him to immediately start ravishing you but he just looks into your eyes a minute, instead.

“How did I ever manage to get a girl like you?” he asks, grinning and still staring into your eyes. “Just lucky, I guess” you say with a playful giggle and wink at him. “The luckiest” he replies, giving you a kiss on the forehead and pulling you into a loving embrace. “I love you, Y/N” he whispers quietly. “I love you, Drew” you whisper back.

He kisses you on the forehead one last time and then gives you a devilish smirk and roughly flips you onto your back and smacks your ass cheek. “Ok, baby,” he drawls out. “Just remember, you asked for this,” he says and immediately smacks your other ass cheek. He leans down and presses his full weight onto your naked body and his skin on yours feels incredible. He licks that special spot right behind your ear and it sends shivers of ecstasy down your side. You can feel him smirk against your skin as he starts to bite and suck on your earlobe, knowing that, that is your other special spot and fully takes advantage of teasing you without you being able to move and being at his mercy. After he gets you moaning and bothered he pulls away only to whisper sexily in your ear “We are fucking all day, baby... hope you don’t have any plans. You’re not going to be able to get out of this bed by the time I’m done with you. Get ready for the best fuck that cunt of yours has ever had.

You gasp at his filthy words and he lets out a low chuckle as you feel yourself getting more and more aroused with every second that passes. You know that he is about to wreck you in the best possible way. This was going to be a wild day.

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lost-inthedream · 6 months

Note

Sf9 reaction to you being literally AMAZING at sucking cock like a deepthroat queen/king-

SF9 reaction to you being amazing at oral

Paring: SF9 x gn reader

Warnings: deepthroating, bad language.

Author's note: Let's go with the very beginning of a relationship in the following drabbles.

Youngbin:

He was not expecting things to get so heated that afternoon, let alone the fact that you were that skilled. The jazz played low in the background because you asked him to turn it down. You already knew he could moan beautifully. Anyway, there you were taking his full length past your throat in the living room. At this point, he was seeing visions of all Greek gods. "I can't believe it" he cried out, pulling your face away from his cock. "What?" you asked, still having drool run down your chin. "I've never seen this before. The way you're doing it, fuck. babe, you need to breathe". Nah, HE needed to breathe, so you stroke his thighs while observing him regain some air. His laborious gasps could not cease.

Inseong:

Since you have started slow with him, you could witness his romantic expression drop to something reckless. His mouth hung agape and closed his eyes tight, his shaft was impossibly swallowed by you. He was completely taken off guard. His legs did not last still for long because his climax was reaching fast, everything about that was so hot for him. "Babe, I love you so damn much. You're wrecking me so good". You almost stop because he had never said he loved you before but his orgasm was close, you just needed a few more motions and yeah. He gave you the glory, hot seed ran down your throat. You finished with a peck on his tip and asked "Were you serious? Do you love me?" He pulls you up and assures you "Babe, sure. I want you with me forever, my deepthoat queen/king"

Jaeyoon:

You and Jaeyoon teased each other during the whole evening. You all knew you were having your first intimate moment that night so you threw the most obscene faces towards him. You licked your lips after sipping at your beverage, traced your own collarbones. He was no different, with that half-unbuttoned shirt. When the two of you finished the meal, his dick was visibly hard, his pants looked so tight that you would be mean if you did not give its deserved attention. You pushed him onto the couch and unzipped his trousers. No need to suppress your hunger, you sucked him with anger. That little shit was hiding an amazing cock for so long. "You know how to make me happy, beautiful. Don't stop." He seemed so excited, laugh blended with moans, yet he was not surprised.

Dawon:

It was so clear that Sanghyuk was going easy on you. You could get a notion from the way he immediately released your wrists after he had pinned your arms above your head. You flipped him around with ease, thanks to all the care he forced himself to maintain towards you. "I wanna give you head" you announced. He signaled you to go ahead and so you did. As soon as his member sprung free, you collected it in both your hands and started to rub while your mouth worked on the tip. "Oh my god, you rough!" He spat out. "Is it too much?" you asked, slowing down the movement of your hands. "No! You can choke yourself on my cock if you feel like it"

Zuho:

Everything was unrolling perfectly between you and Juho. He was so generous in bed, you could see he was getting off simply by seeing your pleasure. His mouth devoured your nipple, his fingers pumped your hole with no mercy, that was amazing. However, he was still fully dressed. "Please, Ju" you implored, tugging on his shirt. He grinned at you and got rid of the item. Then you pointed to his bottoms and he got it right away. "My sweet babe wants my cock". You crawled to him and opened your mouth with your tongue out. After such a clear plea, Juho pushed his member inside and you did the job. You showed him how much you enjoyed dick by sucking it noisily as well as pulling him onto you so you could thrust it further. He lost all his words and attitude, only being able to growl and curse. Boy did not know he needed that.

Rowoon:

Seokwoo had just finished his shower when you arrived. He did not care to put on any clothes, just a towel around his hips was enough to meet you at the doorway. "You look so pretty, my love" he said and pecked your lips. You thanked him with hot cheeks but did not stop yourself from eyeing him up. "You also look fine. So fine..." He shrugged at your words and decided not to dress up, which made you smirk and untuck the end of his towel so it slipped on the floor. And so did you, dropped on your knees to worship his cock. Your hands and mouth worked together to have it fully hard. The more it stiffened, the more you wanted to swallow it. Rowoon was so amazed by your appetite that he became mute, nothing but hard breath left his lips. After some time, he wiped the tears that scaped from your eyes and praised you "So pretty, so sweet. I'm a lucky man"

Yoo Taeyang:

Taeyang picked you up after his practice that evening, he was all sweaty. At his place his place, of course he needed to clean before anything else. So you watched as he started taking his clothes off to take to the laundry room. His hair was still sticking to the nape of his head and forehead. "Can I join you in the shower, baby boy?" you asked with your eyes stuck on his abdomen. "You don't need to ask" he replied heading you to the bathroom with him. There you gave up on being soft with him, you kissed him deeply while your hand wandered down his body. Taeyang is no angel so he slid his sweatpants down and gave you access to jerk him off freely. Yet he did not expect you to squat and devour his entire shaft little by little. "God, you're so talented?" he sighed. You just hummed without releasing his member.

Hwiyoung:

He was ready to leave the studio and give you all the attention you deserved but you implored to stay there. You started to explain that his place was especial to you too and you wanted to enjoy a few hours with his songs as soundtrack. You all made out on his desk chair, you on his lap. His bulge started to poke you from under at some point and he was afraid that was not what you meant when you asked to stay. In any case, when you grinded onto his hard-on, all his worries got vanished. You slid to the floor a bit after but he was too hazy to think. His pants stayed pooled on his feet and you played with his dick with a devilish demeanor. "This is all mine. Youngkyun's cock belongs to me" you affirmed between kisses and short sucks on the tip and his head spinned. Your boyfriend was nothing but a moaning mess as you pushed his dick down your throat.

Chani:

Chani had been imagining how it would be receiving oral from you. He sometimes spent a whole hour dreaming awake before sleeping. Tonight he was going to stay for the night in your place for the first time so he was trying not to allow his mind to go dirty. That was the hardest mission ever, because your sleep clothes were revealing and you sat on his lap to watch tv before going to bed. It was absolutely against his will but he kissed you and it got his dick hard. That felt so pitful, however, you hold his face and said "I can fix it for you". He observed as you confidently lied on your belly and pulled his dick out his pajamas. You did not hold back, sinking on his length until your face was pressed agaisnt his low stomack. "Oh shit! Your angel face hides a slut. I love it"

#sf9 smut #sf9 scenarios #sf9 imagines #sf9 #youngbin smut #inseong smut #jaeyoon smut #dawon smut #zuho smut #rowoon smut #yoo taeyang smut #hwiyoung smut #chani smut

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