#they are both such well dressed characters as well!
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𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲
✰ characters ✰ 𝐘. 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧
✰ summary ✰ don’t say things you don’t mean, unless you do mean them. in that case eren can fulfil all your requests (f!reader)
✰ tags/warnings ✰ nsfw, ex!eren, alcohol use, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, cum eating, squirting. praise kink, overstimulation, pussy licking
✰ kyun’s note ✰ it’s been long overdue, two long fics in a row is tough gang dont do this at home. also sorry for any spelling mistakes i am sleep derived
it was definitely a good idea to go out with the girls
it was probably a bad idea to not send eren home with all the drinks you had earlier clouding your judgment
it was absolutely going to hurt in the morning but that is the last thing that's on your mind right now it will be a problem for later
you and eren had gotten together in high school and stayed together for the duration of high school. the both of you being fairly well known though he was more popular than you were.
the both of you had different passions and wanted to peruse different careers. him wanting to play basketball professionally and you didn’t really want to have a boring 9-5 either so you chose to be an influencer.
you both supported each other and both of you became very successful in what you did. eren signing with a good team and you having nearly up to a million followers. you made sure to go to every one of his games and he would be sure to mention you on his socials and even point to you at games.
the two of you even had a child together who both of your fans adored. you had him early in both of your careers and had enough money to support him growing up, the two of you thought that you would be able to live the rest of your lives as a family.
that was until about 4 years later when eren’s schedule became to hectic and he spent more time practicing and being out of the country for games to even be home with you, there was a gradual build up to that which you thought you could get through but in the end you realised it was too much for you and he accepted that.
in the end the both of you decided to spilt apart as is was just too much on you. both of your fan bases were sad to see their favourite couple break apart but you assured them that it was mutual and the two of you ended on good terms, deep down you still loved him but you let him go knowing it was for the better.
eren always made sure to send money to support both him and you even though you told him that he didnt need to send you money as well. he also did regular calls to check in to see how the both of you were doing, and when he was back in the country he made sure to see you if he could spending time with his son and even you.
you know he loved his son from the way he would always get souvenirs from countries when he was out and even got some jerseys from his sons favourite players even if he did pout complaining because he wasn’t his favourite.
this went on for about a year and it worked really well for the three of you, your sons fifth birthday passed with eren doing his all to be there buying him an expensive gift that your son absolutely loved. eren had lately had been spending more time over due to the season, there not being a lot of games and you decided you wanted to go out since it had been a while.
eren has said he would take care of your son while you went out with your friends saying that you deserved the time to have fun. he took your son over to his house so that you could get ready in peace telling you he would keep him for the weekend so you could relax.
once the both of them had left the house you called both sasha and mikasa telling them the plans and they decided to come over to help you get ready. they arrived soon with their things and the three of you started to get ready.
you had your hair and make up done all that was left was your outfit. you had no idea what to wear as it had been a long time since you had gotten dressed up like this, the girls made their way to you closet and started picking through your stuff looking for something for you to wear.
being pregnant had made big changes to you body which left you feeling less than confident after your giving birth but as the years went by some changes left and some stayed. for one your tits and ass filled out as well as you hips getting wider giving you a near hourglass figure.
you were pretty self conscious about your body but everyone around you encouraged you to embrace your new body as they said it made you look sexy and you believed them, looking at yourself differently you loved your new self.
the girls had picked out a dress you don’t even remember buying. a long-sleeve red dress that stopped just under you ass with red cross slits trailing down the side exposing some skin. you paired it with a classic set of black heels and a red bag to match.
the other two were also ready when you had finished getting dressed so you made sure you had everything you needed and sasha drove you to the club blasting music all the way there.
you got into the flub with no problem all of you being over the required age and the three of you went to get drinks to start your night off, weaving your way through the bustling crowd and over to the bar where you all order your first round of drinks keeping you tab open just in case you want to get more.
you and mikasa take a few more shots sasha only having a few being your designated driver for the night not that she really needed any as she would be asked to have just as much fun either way. after you finished your drinks the three of you moved over into the dancing crowd losing yourselves to the music.
you swung your body to the beat of the music sasha in front and mikasa behind you, your as shaking with every sway of your hips. you could tell that many men wanted to join you but you could see both of the girls pushing the away as they know about your lingering feelings for eren.
the song changes and you recognise it as ‘mad at me by sexxy red’ realising that you know the lyrics and you start singing it along with the others in the room, knowing it lyric for lyric shaking your ass to the beat people around you dancing to the music.
when the next line come on you shout it out like there's no tomorrow “fuck me like you mad at me baby, I need a freak to drive me crazy!” and you sing the rest of the song with the same passion until it finishes and you’re out of breath.
the next song plays and you feel all the energy you had from before now depleted and decide to go pay for your last drink of the night leaving sasha and mikasa on the dance floor.
it didn’t take long for you to reach the bar and pay but on your way back to the girls some one stopped you trying to pull you for a dance. but you quickly pushed them away not in the mood walking to your friends even faster.
you get to the girls in record speed in no time though all the remaining energy you had no completed, the girls notice this and decide it’s time for you all to go home.
you drip mikasa home first knowing she has to go to bed for work in the morning. and then sahsa takes you back to your house with you dozing off on the way back. you didn’t even realise that you had faleen asleep until you felt sasha gently shake you awake.
thanking her for the ride home you wish her a safe journey back walking up to your front door, stumbling on the short walk due to the alcohol still flowing in your system. checking the time to see that it was almost past midnight and you know that your son should have gone to bed ages ago feeling bad that you couldn’t tell him goodnight.
when you walk in it takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the light which you were sure you turned off when you left, squinting only to see a figure sitting on the couch. you take off your heels setting them to the side and look up to see the figure still there.
once your eyes get accustomed to the light you realise that’s it’s eren sitting there who has been sitting there staring up at you since you walked in, and you think maybe you’re just hallucinating from the alcohol in your system but upon further inspection you realise that he’s actually there.
“eren? what are you doing here? where’s my baby?”
for a second he doesn’t say anything and just eyes you up but then he speaks up.
“c’mere here baby”
the space between you brows crease at the pet name but you move towards him nonetheless, coming to stand up in from of him looking down at him.
“I dropped him off at my mums place, don’t worry about him for now”
he gently pulls you down to straddle you making your dress ride up a little bit, leaving the two of you face to face. you don’t instantly question his actions but your face conveys your confusion, but instead of saying anything he just sits there rubbing slowly up and down your thighs spread over him.
“what’s going on, is something wrong?”
but instead of answering your question he laughs and pulls out his phone swiping though as if looking for something.
“how about you tell me what this is about first”
you’re confused at first but then once the video starts playing your eyes widen in shock. it’s a video of you in the club singing to “mad at me” shouting the lyrics to the song.
“wanna explain this to me”
he’s still smiling as he says it and you know there's no way to get out of this. there's no possible excuse he would believe after seeing that, which brings up the question of where he got it from.
“who took this video and how do you have it”
he turns off his phone slipping it back into his joggers the action causing you to shift in too of him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as to not fall off him.
“it was posted online and someone sent it to me, and don't try change the subject. what’s this about you wanting to fuck. if you wanted some dick all you had to do was say so princess. you know i never say no to you baby”
in truth it had been a while since you were active, though it was mainly because of your lack of time due to taking care of you son as well as working.
part of it had to do with the fact that no dock would be able to compare to eren's. the way he would fuck you was to good for you to ever try it with anyone else.
you had kind of missed this intimate part of your relationship, you knew eren wasn’t the type of guy to sleep around and you are sure if he did you would have found out by now and you didn’t want to seem to desperate by asking him about his life without you as you respected his privacy as he did yours.
“why you silent for pretty, aint got nothing to say or did you really mean what you said. what was it again, you wanted me to fuck you like I was mad at you cause I can do that baby if it’s what you want, do you want that?”
as you contemplate your answer you notice his hands don’t stop but smile drops a serious look falls over his face. he probably knows that your drunk and no os giving you a way out of this.
knowing him if you said no he would step back and act as if it didn’t happen. the thing is that you do want this to happen, maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re just really pent up and horny but you don’t see a reason to decline his offer.
you nod your head to agree but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that hands stopping to grip at your thighs squeezing them lightly.
“no princess, I need words. you say yes we continue. say no and I’ll take you to bed and go back home, answer me properly”
knowing this is your last chance to back out you appreciate his efforts in order to confirm your consent and it just gives you even more reason to say yes, knowing that he’s being respectful even though he couldn’t have done what he wanted knowing you have no way of defending yourself in this state.
“yes eren, I want this. I want you. fuck me please, i need you“
you hardly have time to register what’s happening before he’s lifting you up and making his way to your old shared bedroom. you wrap you legs around his firm torso and cling onto him tighter, even though you know that there no way he will drop you.
“only since you asked me so nicely, I’ll give you what you need don’t worry baby”
the two of you reach the bed room in record speed and eren gently sets you down on the edge of the bed kneeling down in front of you both of his hands still on the side of your thighs looking up at you with a mischievous grin.
his mouth latches onto you barely clothed sex sucking on your clit in a way that has you gasping out in ecstasy. it’s no lie to say that eren knows every inch of your body inside and out. he knows all the things that make you squirm and scream. where to touch and lick as well as h to e spots indie you that make your arch into his touch.
he moves on from sucking on your clit like a mad man thirsting for water and moves down to you dripping whole, sinking his tongue into your tight heat that hadn’t had any attention for a while. not that there weren’t a few visits from your bullet vibrator it just couldn’t make you cum the way you did when eren would fuck you.
“fuck, she really missed me didn’t she ma?”
the way he’s talking to your pussy has you rolling your eyes, but they then roll for a different reason as he adds one finger teasing his way inside of you alongside his hot tongue. “oh fuck, ‘ren don’t stop please” your hand reaches for his head gripping his hair causing it to fall loose as you pull his face further into your cunt.
both his tongue and fingers pistoling into you at a harsh pace so he not surprised when you end up cumming into his mouth as he starts to suck on your clit. he doesn’t stop scissoring his fingers inside you until you stop cumming and your moans die out, though your legs still tremble slightly due to the force of your orgasm.
“we aint done yet princess, you said you wanted to be fucked right and that’s what you’ll get. flip over”
you may be a bit drunk but that doesn’t stop you from turning over at the speed of light making you a bit lightheaded but you do regret it as you miss when eren pulls of his top and steps out his trousers and boxers, kneeling back behind you slapping his cock against your ass cheeks.
“you ready for me baby?”
he watches as you nod your head eagerly and lines his cock up with your pussy sliding in with predicted ease, filling out all the way to the hilt. both of you let out moans of pleasure “fuck- I missed you” you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy but you’re to full and stretched out to care. it would be an understatement to say that you also missed the fill of his cock. it was more like the longer you were apart the more you craved to feel him.
he was feeling sympathetic knowing that it had been a while since you had fuck him, or anyone for that matter, but when you start to rock back into him letting out small mewls of pleasure he decides not to hold back. “such a desperate whore, you cant wait to fuck yourself on my cock huh?” his words are accompanied by a hard slap to your ass causing your movements to stagger with a loud moan of “f-fuck, you’re taking too long”
he lets you move as you please for a few more moments before growing impatient and gripping your waist slamming his hips into yours. “d-daddy- fuckk!” you cant see it but you can hear the smirk as he says “you like it when daddy fucks you like this don’t you?” as he sends another harsh thrust you way, rocking the bed with the force of his thrust.
he continues with his timely thrust with the occasional slap to your ass, oscillating between that or squeezing it in both hands and playing with the fat. he can feel the way you clam down on him when he does that, knowing your body inside and out plays well in is favour, not so much in yours.
he spares no energy with is thrusts as he knows you like it when he's rough with you, fucking you into the soft sheets wit vigour, deep strokes hitting your cervix every time, the tip brushing against your sweet spot on every quick roll of his hips.
he's not surprised when he begins to hear your familiar slurred pleas of " daddy please. 's too much. slow down" to which he does the opposite and uses one and to steady your waist and the other one to hold your neck keeping your back arced "remember, you asked for this princess," your unable to move, sheets bunched up in your hands, hips held high by him, face pressed into the bed.
"made it loud and clear waat you wanted and now im giving it to you"
the slick sounds of sex circulate the room, your nonsensical moans bouncing off the walls in the room along with his skin slapping against yours as he hammers is cock into your dripping pussy. "since you asked for it m sure you can take it like a good girl cant you? noting you havent done before"
you can feel is cock start to pulse inside you and you know that he's close , and you're on the verge of release, with the way eren's pounding into you you doubt you'll be able to last much longer as well as the fact that its been ages since your last fuck, which was eren.
"next time you want something, just fucking ask"
the last three words of his sentence are each punctuated with a harsh trust, sending you over the edge as you begin to squirt all over is cock and onto the sheets below you. he can feel the way your pussy spasms around is cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, slowing down to ease you through it.
"that's it cum on daddy's cock, its all fucking yours baby, nobody can have me but you"
its only a couple more languid trusts until he's spilling is hot seed inside you with a groan of your name on his lips, hips stuttering as his grip tightens enough in a way you're sure will leave marks in the morning, body doubling over your trembling frame while he locks his hips with yours, emptying is tick load deep into your pussy.
only wen he's sure that there's no more does e finally pull out of your near limp body and gently rolls you over onto your back. peppering kisses down your torso till he settles between your legs were he begins to suck the cum out of you, causing your legs to clam around is head.
"nononono- fuck. i cant, s too much no more."
he's relentless not stopping even as your and tug at his air, pushing is tongue deep into your pussy and licking your mixed juices out of you. "just one more baby, i know you can give it to me" he's not wrong as only a second after he presses his thumb to your clit, you're cumming for the third time that evening shaking in is hold.
after tat e makes sure to clean you out as best as he can, dressing you into comfortable clothes. after cleaning himself he carries you to the guest bedroom and tucks you in deciding to leave until you reach out to him pulling him back.
he ends up wit is arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath is, drifting into a deep sleep. you're sure that in the morning the two of you will have a lot of things to talk about.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍
#✰𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒✰#eren x black reader#eren smut#eren aot#eren x reader#eren yeager#eren jaeger x reader#aot smut#aot#black y/n#black reader#black women#eren yaeger smut#eren jaeger smut#eren jaeger#eren x you#eren x black fem!reader#aot x black y/n#aot x reader#aot x black reader#aot x y/n#aot x you#aot x female reader
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look at us | joel miller
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
words: 2748
warnings: 18+ blog; Smut, maybe even smut with no real plot, Nipple play, orgasm through nipple stimulation, praise, multiple orgasms, using arousal as lube, mutual masterbastion (f & m), cum eating/sharing, mirror watching, my horrible attempt at keeping a conversation flowing during sexy time, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself, fluff, established relationship, mentioned that reader is wearing a dress & bra but has zero descriptive features, can be read as no outbreak or prior to outbreak Joel, there’s no Sarah in this universe
notes: this is a reimagined version of an older fic i posted and didn’t really like for some reason. Switched the characters and reworked it a bit. Smut is so hard to write for me, I just question the whole thing in its entirety and never want to do it again. But I love this storyline so much more now as Joel that I honestly don’t even care if the smut is wonky— I just want joel now. This writer supports Palestine and does not share or support the views of tlou creator.
It’s a heady sensation.
Visceral. Demanding. Gratifying.
His touch. A grounding force that burns through you, igniting every nerve ending in its wake.
Plaint and warm, your body blooms with a carnal appetency.
He’s emboldened by every sound he plucks from you. The softest whimpers that fall from your lips, kiss every single inch of his dewy skin. He’s forever addicted to your willingness to take what he has to give you— always wanting more.
Generous. Attentive. Steadfast.
Earnestness bleeds into a lustrous selfishness. The anticipation palpable, watching as you come apart in his arms, your pleasure is his forevermore.
It’s intuitive, the way he’s drawn to you. Most mornings, taking advantage of what little time he has with you, before work is pulling you both in different directions. Then you’re reunited for the evening and he’s making up for lost time, devouring and satisfying, well into the next day.
An endless cycle of being connected and reconnecting.
When weekends come around, he’s selfish. Overindulging beyond his means. Knowing he has ample time to relish in the closeness. Met with endless opportunities to have you near in any capacity as the hours of the day tick on, time he doesn’t take for granted.
Today is no different. From the moment the truck backs out of the driveway, beginning the several mile drive across town in the direction of Tommy’s home, he’s reaching for your hand.
Palm to palm, fingers perfectly intertwined as your hands stay connected over the center console of his pickup. The afternoon sun streaming through the window, adding to the already budding warmth that’s building between you. The conversation is light. Joel listening intently as you share details from your week, his thumb working over your knuckles as you move through the highlights of your story.
The remainder of the drive has a comfortable lull as the miles roll by. Music streaming through the cab, the lyrics provoking a wave of affection. Joel’s lips find the top of your hand periodically, his gaze never breaking from the road ahead. Your heart racing instantly at his instinctual gesture.
The gathering of friends— barbecuing, music and laughter, doesn't deter him from keeping you within arms reach.
Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back, fingers lightly dragging back and forth over your tingling spine, as you both exchange hello’s and hugs to the group friends in attendance scattered around the backyard
While Tommy is busy tending to the food on the barbecue, Joel and you are caught up listening to Paul, Tommy’s old army buddy and the newest hire at Joel’s construction company, share stories from his and Tommy’s time together in the military. Both of you enthralled by the recounts of close calls and embarrassing moments for the younger Miller brother, only to be interrupted by a flustered Tommy calling for Paul to grab plates and napkins from inside.
The minute you’re alone his hand is wandering south, grabbing at the meat of your ass and pulling you flush against him. It’s the first moment you’ve been alone since arriving and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to take advantage of it.
You smile into his kiss, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as he leans in close, his hushed words fanning across your ear.
“You look so damn pretty in that dress. Can’t wait to get my hands on you later.” The husk in his voice nearly makes you melt further into him, not even surprised by the cool dampness coating the silk panties you chose today, just for him.
“Hmmm— your hands haven’t left me since we got here.” You muse.
“I like havin’ you close.”
“You’ve made that quite obvious, Miller.” You joke, before he’s silencing you with another less than chaste kiss.
Dinner is served as the sun begins its descent. The air dropping a few degrees cooler, has goosebumps pricking at your skin. But it’s nothing compared to the shiver Joel is causing you, his hand nestled between your legs under the table.
You find it hard to focus between all the lively conversations being volleyed across the table, dishes being passed around and laughter cutting through friendly onslaughts of fuck you’s.
Joel mindlessly massaging at your thigh as he talks. Filling everyone in on the projects he’s started around the house, while your brain is muddled with thoughts of Joel’s hands and only Joel’s hands.
You can’t be positive it’s a deliberate move— or is it? You’ve been with him long enough to know what a calculated man Joel is.
He leans forward to reach for the ketchup bottle, his other hand shifting further up your thighs, his demeanor is cool and even as his fingers brush over your clothed mound. His fingers slowly gliding over the very drenched fabric. You swallow a thick gasp as your hips cant forward on instinct, chasing his retreating hand, your cunt aching and desperate for more of his teasing.
The wink he shoots you as he settles back in his chair is all the evidence you need to know his plan worked.
“Look like you saw an infected zombie or somethin’. Everything okay, Baby?” You want to kiss the devilish smirk right off of his handsome face.
“Y-yeah.” Horny and desperate for you, but fine.
“Y’sure about that? Those perked nipples of yours are tellin’ a different story, Sweetheart.” He quietly calls you out. You glance down to see the thin fabric of your summer dress and lace bra are no match to conceal the hardened peaks— your body so easily betraying you is nothing new.
“We should head out soon.” You say softly, Joel nods immediately, the silent agreement has you eager for what’s in store when you arrive home.
The ongoing conversation among the others is now muted background noise as you stare into his needy eyes, your hand cupping the side of his face as your thumb traces over his plush lower lip.
“We’re headin’ out. Thanks for havin’ us, Tommy. Hope to see y’all again sometime soon. ‘Night.” Joel rushes through announcing your departure, pulling you from your seat, his body crowding behind you as he ushers you towards his truck.
“You’re not even gonna stay and help clean up?” Tommy pouts from his chair.
“You’re a big boy Tommy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Joel yells over his shoulder with a two finger wave as the gate clicks shut, home and you are the only thing cares about for the remainder of the evening.
“Fuuuuuuuck— Joel!” Your mind slowly seeping into a deep pleasured state.
There’s little recollection of leaving Tommy’s house and the drive home, other than Joel’s unrelenting need to have you close at all times— no complaints from you whatsoever.
Joel’s firm grip on your hand when he all but drags you to the bedroom of your shared home, clothes stripped at the foot of your bed in a hasty fashion.
The accumulation of Joel’s fiery touches throughout the day were merely effortless foreplay, all considered and aiding in his profound efforts that have been unfolding since arriving home.
“You look so fuckin’ good. Look at us, Baby.” The low gravel of his voice is overwhelming, but laced with pure authenticity. You lift your head just enough as your eyes slowly flutter open, trying to catch a glimpse of what he sees in the full length mirror positioned on the wall across from where you both are in bed— a mere coincidence that it was placed in there when you moved in.
“‘M l-looking, J-joel.”
It’s exquisitely striking how your cunt flutters madly against the cool air of the bedroom. The sight alone is better than any pornography you’ve consumed together.
Joel sitting up against the headboard holding your body close to his. Your back firm and tacky against his chest, breathing in rhythmic unity.
His feet hooked around your ankles, keeping your legs spread out as he hones in on the two luring forms glaring back in the mirror, a view that will forever edge out his own fantasies of you.
His large hands hold the weight of your breasts with pleasing dexterity, whispering the most beautiful obscene things into your ear.
I love your body. I love the way you moan. Missed your pussy all day. God, you’re always on my mind. Fuck, you’re makin’ me so hard. Louder. Fuck. Look at me.
Your gaze finally catches Joel’s in the reflection. It’s direct and overwhelming, his warm brown eyes flickering with a bold desire igniting a ripple of goosebumps over your body.
You’re both possessed by the new wave of arousal, glistening in the afternoon light, as it ardently drips from your pussy down to the bed sheets. Desperately craving to be devastated by this handsome man.
Joel’s thumbs swipe over your hard sensitive nipples, pulling a breathy gasp from your lips. Your head falling back into his shoulder as you let the sensation fully consume you.
“You like that don’t you?” You can only manage to hum in response, which encourages him to continue his work over the pebbled skin.
“Y-yes. You know how much I d-do.”
Joel knows this. Well enough too. It’s a normal occurrence that you find yourself in this identic state. Your body buzzing and exhausted, molded against Joel’s. His cock weeping and begging for relief, snuggly nestled between your roaring bodies. His skilled hands reducing you to putty.
Rolling. Pinching. Pulling. Flicking.
Each thorough caress sends an intense and deep feeling of delirium surging through you. Building and building the delicate structure for an elaborate release.
“So perfect all laid out for me. You gonna come for me?. I think you’re almost there, Baby. Just need a little more, huh?”
“Joel— I-I don’t think I can this time. N-need— oh fuck Joel! I need a little m-more.”
You’re cut off when you feel Joel’s fingers faintly slide over your throbbing clit and bypassing it completely. He swipes through your wet folds. You think he might finally give in. Plunge one, maybe two of his thick fingers into your aching heat, caress your velvet walls until you’re coming undone. Your body jolts as he gathers your arousal on his fingers, then abandons the ache and returns to his previous ministrations.
His arousal slick digits glide over each of your perked nipples. The wet eager strokes have your back arching as you moan into the room, your body tense and vibrating.
“Joel— yes! That feels so good! fuckfuckfuck! I— I’m so close Joel! D-don’t stop!” You let out a sharp moan.
“I ain’t stoppin’, Sweetheart. So fuckin’ beautiful. Can’t wait to see you come, Baby— just let go.” His hushed words paired with the way he rolls your stiff nubs between his fingers is just the push you needed, your climax vibrant and beautiful as it erupts, spreading through you faster than you can announce its existence.
Joel watches you fall apart in the mirror. Your breathless state has his hips grinding against your lower back as he continues to clutch your breasts. The glimmering beads of sweat rolling down your throat and chest, joining the layer pooling between your bodies.
It’s the view of your cunt that nearly takes him out, empty and pulsating, he’s never been so proud of a sight. He adds the mental snapshot to his backlog of imagery he’ll store of you until the end of his days.
“God, Joel. That— that was amazing!.” You say, peeling your satiated body from his.
Turning to face him, you sit in the space between where his legs are sprawled open, your hands massaging at his calves. You take in how enticing he looks, laid back on the stack of pillows, a slack grin on his handsome face as he slowly pumps his hardened cock.
You’re completely entranced by the sight, all thick and tempting. Biting at your lip teasingly, a hand all but subtly slips between your legs and your fingers begin delicately tracing circles over your clit.
Husked gasps falling from Joel’s parted lips as he alternates his movements. Long languid strokes over the length of his shaft then pausing briefly, his grip stilled and tight around the base as the reddened tip slowly leaks.
You gasp as the warmth of your sex engulfs your fingers triggering another gush of arousal to trickle down your thighs. Your other hand still connected to Joel’s leg, grounding your floating form to him.
Joel's eyes scan you, absorbing your blissed-out state, his hand matching your own steady movements, rhythmically moving over himself, his breaths now emerging as heavy pants.
Your fingers enthusiastically moving in and out with ease as your hips writhe keenly in search of the perfect position. The remnants of your previous orgasm are still lingering, beautifully aiding in the build up of the next. Your brows pinched in pleasure.
The room is dense with sexual humidity. Doused in a mixture of the ambered vanilla candle you burn frequently and a sweet ambrosial musk.
“Fuck— how’d I get so fuckin’ lucky with a woman like you? fuck!.” His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, neck taut and nose flared as he tries to breathe through how good he’s making himself feel. “Why don’t you— shit —c’mere.”
“Mmm-ah! T-tempting, Baby. ohgod! Think I’ll stay put. I’m actually enjoying the view quite nicely from here. You look so good like this, Joel.” Seeing him accept your praise is a vision you’ll never get tired of, allowing himself to give in and take what he needs.
Your fingers graze over that delicious little spot with success, a cresting wave set in motion, the sensation causing your walls to convulse. A moan escapes your lips, paralleling with Joel’s own sounds. Your head involuntarily tilts back, as you ride out the euphoric moment.
“Shit! Sweetheart, I’m— I’m gonna— Hnng!Fuuuck!”
Joel’s fist erratically pumps over his length, his eyes locked on your naked form, ragged breaths and eager moans. Your eyes struggle to stay focused through the hazy chaos, drawn to his flushed body, paralyzed with an ample dose of desire as he nears his finish.
“Come for me, Joel.” You’ve shifted yourself a little closer to where he’s eagerly working himself over, encouraging him to let go.
He does— white hot ropes of cum paint his stomach, his actions slowing as the last few drops spill over his hand. He breathes out a deep sigh, giving you a lopsided grin as his arms fall to his sides. Eyes heavy with a mixture of lust and love.
“Fuck— now will you c’mere?”
You draw your lower lip between your teeth, now hovering over where his now softening dick rests against his stomach. You don’t break eye contact as you lean down and lick at the sticky mess.
“Goddamn— Ah!” Joel hisses, the warmth of your tongue dragging up the length of his cock. Lapping at the dappled layer of silky brininess covering his lower abdomen, purring with satisfaction as you swallow it.
“God.Damn.” You echo his words back to him, your lips move over his— he groans at the taste of himself still on your tongue.
A slow, content smile forms on your face as you tenderly kiss his neck, followed by a series of soft kisses down his chest and stomach.
“Gimme a minute— just need to regroup and then I’ll be ready to go again.”
“Whatever you say, my love.” Joel’s arms wrap a you and you melt into him. “Or I can draw us a hot bath and we can soak until we’re prunes.” A yawn perfectly placed at the end of your suggestion.
“Sounds like a plan. How ‘bout we nap then soak?” You sleepily hum in response.
"Love you, Sweetheart," Joel whispers, before pressing his lips to the top of your head.
“Mmm— love you, Joel.”
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#no outbreak!joel miller#pre outbreak!joel#pedro pascal#wildemaven writes#pedrostories
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You Really Got Me.
Summary:
After being dragged to a club by his brother, Aemond meets the girl of his dreams.
Warning(s): Alcohol, Flirting, Banter, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex M & F Recieving, Multiple Orgasms, P in V sex.
AEMOND TARGARYEN x Y.N
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Word Count: 3384
A.N - Shout out to @zeciex for suggesting I write this!!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
As the bass thumped through the club, Aemond Targaryen leaned back against the plush leather booth, a tumbler of amber liquid swirling in his hand. His older brother Aegon was at it again, prowling the dance floor in search of his next conquest, his laughter mingling with the music and the chatter of the crowd.
Aemond couldn't help but shake his head at Aegon's antics, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Some things never changed, no matter how old they got. But then, his attention was caught by a figure sitting at the bar.
She was captivating, with long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and a leather jacket over her dress only adding an edge to her ensemble.
Her fingers tapped against her thigh in time with the beat, a subtle rhythm that drew Aemond's gaze like a moth to flame and he found himself unable to look away.
As the music pulsed around them, Aemond felt a surge of courage wash over him. With a glance towards his brother, who was still lost in his pursuit, he made his decision. Setting down his drink, he straightened his jacket and approached the bar, a newfound determination in his step.
It had been a good few months since he’d last took a woman to his bed and tonight, he would take a chance, and see where the night would lead.
With a steady resolve, Aemond made his way through the pulsating crowd towards the bar where the captivating woman sat. As he approached, he couldn't help but admire the graceful way she moved to the music, her presence commanding attention.
Just as he was about to speak, fate intervened in the form of a misstep.
The woman turned at the wrong moment, her sudden movement catching Aemond off guard. Before he could react, their paths collided, and the contents of her drink went tumbling through the air, splashing across the front of his shirt.
"Whoa, I'm so sorry!" Aemond exclaimed, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady her as they both stumbled back from the collision.
The woman's eyes widened in surprise, a look of mortification crossing her features as she took in the mess they had created. "Oh gods, I didn't see you there," she apologized, her voice tinged with embarrassment.
"It's alright, really," Aemond reassured her, offering a warm smile despite the dampness seeping through his shirt. "Accidents happen."
Together, they shared a rueful laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating into shared amusement.
As they both cleaned up the mess, the woman offered a sheepish smile. "I'm Y.N," she introduced herself, her voice soft but carrying a hint of warmth.
"Aemond," he replied, offering his hand with a gentle shake. "Nice to meet you, Y.N, despite the unconventional start."
Y.N's smile widened, a glint of amusement sparkling in her eyes. "Likewise, Aemond. And I must say, you handle unexpected collisions quite well."
Aemond chuckled, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks. "Years of practice," he quipped, enjoying the easy banter that flowed between them.
Feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between them, Aemond gestured towards the bar. "Can I make it up to you by buying you another drink?" he offered, hoping to extend their conversation beyond the initial mishap.
Y.N's lips curved into a playful grin. "I suppose that would be fair compensation," she teased, a sparkle of mischief dancing in her eyes.
With a shared laugh, they made their way to the bar, the music and chatter of the club fading into the background as they continued to get to know each other.
As they settled into a more intimate corner of the club, Aemond and Y.N continued their conversation, their laughter blending seamlessly with the music.
"So, what brought you here tonight?" Aemond asked, genuinely curious about the woman sitting across from him.
Y.N's expression softened, a hint of wistfulness crossing her features. "Honestly, I was just about to leave," she confessed, her voice tinged with a touch of disappointment. "My friends bailed on me, and I didn't really fancy staying here alone."
Aemond's brows furrowed sympathetically, but a playful twinkle lit up his eye. "Well, I suppose luck was on my side then," he remarked with a charming smile. "Because you're not alone anymore."
Y.N's lips curled into a smile, touched by his sincerity. "I suppose you're right," she conceded, a warmth blossoming in her chest at his words.
As the night wore on and their conversation deepened, Aemond and Y.N found themselves drawn to each other in ways they hadn't expected. With each shared laugh and exchanged glance, the spark of attraction between them ignited into a blazing flame.
Aemond leaned in closer, his voice low and husky as he teased Y.N with playful banter. "You know, I must say, you're quite the captivating presence," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his tone.
Y.N's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and delight as she returned his gaze, her eyes sparkling with a newfound confidence. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she quipped, her smile playful yet inviting.
Their flirtatious exchange continued, a dance of words and glances that spoke volumes without the need for further explanation.
Aemond couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt towards Y.N, her wit and charm captivating him in ways he hadn't anticipated. And as he watched her laugh and playfully toss her hair, he knew that he wanted nothing more than to explore where this newfound attraction would lead.
For Y.N, the feeling was mutual, her heart racing with excitement as she found herself falling deeper under Aemond's spell. In his presence, she felt alive in a way she hadn't in a long time, her every nerve tingling with anticipation.
As the night progressed and the chemistry between them intensified, Y.N found herself drawn to the subtle intricacies of Aemond's appearance. With a gentle touch, she reached out to tuck a stray strand of his long, silver hair behind his ear, her fingertips lingering against his skin.
"You know," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "You have to be one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen."
Aemond's breath caught in his throat at her words, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the sincerity in her gaze. He met her eyes, his own blue orbs reflecting a depth of emotion that words could scarcely capture.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice tinged with a mixture of humility and gratitude. "That's-quite the compliment."
Y.N smiled, her gaze softening as she took in the sight of him. "I mean it," she insisted, her fingers trailing lightly along his jawline. "Your sharp features, the colour of your eye-it’s truly mesmerizing".
“-And the eyepatch and scar?” mused Aemond.
“Proves that you’re a survivor” replied Y.N smiling.
Y.N's gaze lingered on Aemond's profile, the soft glow of the club's lights casting gentle shadows across his features.
With a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, she couldn't help but voice her admiration.
"You know, Aemond, your side profile is absolutely incredible," she remarked, her voice hushed yet filled with genuine appreciation.
Aemond turned to face her, a faint blush tinting his cheeks at the unexpected compliment. "Really?" he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.
Y.N nodded, her eyes tracing the elegant curve of his jawline and the noble slope of his nose. "Yes, really," she affirmed, her tone earnest. "There's something about the way the light catches your features-it's like you were sculpted by an artist."
Aemond's heart fluttered at her words, a warmth spreading through him at the sincerity in her gaze. In Y.N's eyes, he felt seen in a way that went beyond mere physical appearance, a recognition of the uniqueness that defined him.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with gratitude.
Aemond found himself unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing him closer to Y.N. With a silent exchange of longing glances, they closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a fervent kiss that ignited a firestorm of passion between them.
In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of Y.N's lips against his own, soft yet electrifying. Aemond's heart thundered in his chest as he deepened the kiss, his hands instinctively finding their way to Y.N's waist, pulling her closer to him.
Y.N responded eagerly, her arms winding around Aemond's neck as she melted into his embrace.
As their kiss finally broke, leaving them both breathless and flushed with desire, Aemond gazed into Y.N's eyes, a question lingering unspoken between them.
"Y.N," he began, his voice husky with emotion, "Would you like to-go back to my flat?"
Y.N's lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet longing that mirrored his own.
With a surge of elation coursing through him, Aemond took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers as they made their way through the throng of people towards the exit.
As they reached the door, Aemond fumbled for his keys, his fingers trembling with anticipation. With a satisfying click, the door swung open, and they stumbled into the dimly lit interior, their bodies pressed together as their kisses grew deeper, more urgent.
“A-Are you sure?” asked Aemond.
“Yes, I’m sure-“ replied Y.N as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him for another kiss, the tongues gently caressing one another.
Aemond’s hands then slipped her leather jacket off her shoulders and draped it over the back of a chair before he took her face in his hands and ran his tongue over her lips, eliciting a low moan from Y.N.
His long fingers sliding up the back of her neck and into her hair, his forehead resting against hers.
“So beautiful” whispered Aemond.
“I-I want to see you” muttered Y.N softly.
Aemond hesitated, he never took his eyepatch off around anyone except his mother, brothers, and sister.
But there was something about Y.N that instantly made him feel comfortable, so with a deep breath Aemond slipped his fingers under the strap of his eyepatch and pulled it from his head.
Y.N stood silent she stared at the scar the bisected his cheek, extending through his eyebrow. The sapphire that he’d placed in the eye socket, glinted in the moonlight.
“You are-so-beautiful” whispered Y.N as she leaned forward and placed a number of kisses along his scarred cheek and over the sapphire.
Aemond closed his eye in delight at the tender gesture, a contented sigh escaping his lips.
“Hmmm” rasped Aemond as he ran his thumb over Y.N’s bottom lip, his eye going wide as she opened her mouth and nipped at his thumb before sucking it into her mouth.
Aemond could feel his eye roll into the back of head, fuck his cock was throbbing.
“Please-“ moaned Y.N
Aemond removed his thumb and quickly shed his jacket before throwing it on the sofa.
Wasting no time, he pulled Y.N to him, his lips once again claiming hers.
He put his arm around her waist and kissed her passionately, deepening the kiss as she moaned into his mouth. His tongue pushing against hers.
Y.N ran her fingers across his lithe body. His muscles rippled under her fingertips.
She unbuttoned the white shirt he wore, placing feathery kisses on his sparsely haired chest as the shirt was removed.
Her fingers toying with the silver cross chain he wore.
Groaning against her creamy smooth skin, he kissed her neck, sucking on the delicate flesh as she leaned into him, enjoying his every touch.
Her dress felt heavy on her. She wanted to be rid of it. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. She reluctantly broke free of his embrace and turned her back to him moving her hair out of the way.
His fingers trembled as he grasped the zip to her dress and pulled it down, the sound echoed through the quiet apartment, and he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.
Using his long fingers, he freed her from the confinements of her dress, and it fell to join his shirt on the floor.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, which excited him to no end.
Goosebumps appeared where his fingers moved over her. Cupping her ample breasts from behind, Aemond pulled Y.N against his chest. Burying himself in the crook of her neck, sucking on the skin whilst his fingers massaged the soft mounds and played with her hardened nipples.
Aemond turned her to face him. Kissing her again, he trailed kisses down her body and took a rosy nipple in his mouth. Sucking on the aroused bud, he bit down lightly, earning a low moan from deep within her.
He continued his actions on the other breast and kissed past her stomach until he knelt before her. Her fingers in his hair tightened as he ran the tips of his fingers from her stomach down to her core.
Slowly he hooked his thumbs on the sides of her knickers and pulled them down.
Fuck she was dripping, and it was all for him. He could not wait to taste her. Somehow, he knew she would taste delicious.
Y.N delicately stepped out of the lacy material, and Aemond's long fingers grasped her buttocks. His fingers dug into her delicate flesh.
He felt her lean in eagerly. Gently he swiped his tongue across her hairless pussy, instant gratification as her fingers tightened their hold on his head, and a low moan left her lips.
Aemond smirked. Using his tongue, he gained access to her wet, pink folds. She tasted fucking amazing. Aemond enthusiastically ran his tongue along her slit, flicking his tongue over her swollen clit.
Y.N effortlessly placed a leg on his shoulder, spreading her thighs for better access. Oh, how he welcomed it.
Her clit was a swollen mass of pleasure waiting to explode. He pressed his tongue hard on it and sucked on her pulsating womanhood. Again and again, he felt her squirm. He felt her heat, she was so close.
Y.N felt the flow of heat accumulate behind her navel as she hovered on the cusp of orgasm. She let out a loud moan as she intricately spun a bundle of nerves that exploded within her.
"Fuck!" Y.N cried and buckled under the weight of her release.
Wave upon wave of unbridled passion unleashed within her as an earth-shattering orgasm tore throughout her body. Her slick juices dripped down his lips and chin. He didn't stop until she was utterly spent.
Pushing his tongue further in, he fucked her with his tongue till her orgasm ceased.
"Aemond," whimpered Y.N as she began to wobble.
Smirking, Aemond rose to his feet and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
Y.N regained her composure and keenly clung to him, returning his kisses while undoing the button of his trousers.
Not skipping a single step as she directed him backwards towards the sofa.
Kissing him full on the mouth, her fingers stroked his body, not missing an inch of flesh.
She marvelled at the feel of his body. It was so lithe and fit. Trailing kisses past his stomach, she came face to face with his sizeable bulge.
Biting down on her lip, kneeling between his legs she pulled his trousers and boxers down his shapely legs and threw them next to her.
Even in the dim light, Aemond could see she was impressed. His rock-hard shaft stood up, eagerly awaiting its reward.
Y.N bent her head and licked a line from his balls to his pulsating head.
Aemond groaned aloud as she clasped her fingers around his girth and moved her hand up and down the hard shaft. Y.N enjoyed his slow torture. She smirked and licked the underside of his cock.
"Y.N-" whimpered Aemond.
His eye closed, and he felt her tongue at his head, licking the pre-cum that oozed out.
Without warning, she took him in whole, deep-throating his length. Aemond knew he would not last, he could not hold back any longer, but gods he did not want her to stop.
She was sucking on him, her lips tightening around his cock as she built a beautiful pace.
"NO!" groaned Aemond and Y.N withdrew.
She barely had time to react. Before he grabbed her around the waist and moved her on top.
“I-have condoms-somewhere” mumbled Aemond.
“I’m on the pill and clean-“ exclaimed Y.N her eyes going wide as Aemond lined up his cock with her entrance and sheathed himself inside her with one hard thrust.
Y.N moaned as Aemond withdrew and entered into her repeatedly.
Faster and faster. Harder and deeper, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.
"Please don't stop," cried out Y.N
"I have no intention of stopping" growled Aemond, his feet planted firmly on the floor to allow him to increase the intensity of his thrusts.
A satisfied smile spread across his face as he quickened and angled his movements, so his cock rubbed on that special place inside her.
Aemond was mesmerized by the sight of Y.N’s breasts bouncing in front of him and unbale to resist any longer he surged forward, his mouth wrapping around one rosy bud.
His teeth and tongue teasing the stiffened peak.
“Gods-yes Aemond” shrieked Y.N as she bounced on his cock, her hands coiled in is long silver hair.
“That’s it baby-take it-take all of me” growled Aemond leaning back as he moved Y.N’s hips in time with his thrusts.
“Oh gods-” wailed Y.N.
“That’s it-FUCK Y.N” groaned Aemond as he took hold of her and quickly manoeuvred her onto her back, his cock never leaving the warm wetness of her as he began to pound into her, the sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing around his apartment.
“P-Please Aemond. Don’t stop. Don’t stop-“ whimpered Y.N.
“Come for me baby-come for me” growled Aemond as he felt her clenching around him.
“AEMOND” screamed Y.N as she exploded, her nails digging into his back.
Aemond held back for as long as he could, but his release was upon him.
Surrounded by her wetness, he closed his eye.
With a final hard thrust, he spilled rope after rope of his seed.
He muffled his groans into her mouth as she hung onto him, kissing him fervently.
Only once she milked him dry did he collapse on top of her. She held him close to her body, whispering words of comfort and satisfaction while running her fingers down his back.
The sweat on his back stung against the scraps her nails made.
As they lay entwined on the sofa, their bodies bare and glistening with the remnants of their shared passion, Aemond and Y.N savoured the quiet intimacy of the moment. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle halo around their entangled forms.
Aemond's fingers traced lazy patterns across Y.N's skin, his touch tender and reverent as he explored the contours of her body.
With a contented sigh, he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his heart overflowing with gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that had brought them together.
In the stillness of the night, a silent thanks drifted through Aemond's mind, directed towards Aegon, who had unwittingly led him to the club where he had found Y.N.
Aemond couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't want this to be just another fleeting encounter. With Y.N nestled against him, her warmth radiating against his skin, he felt a longing stir within him—a desire to see her again, to explore the depths of their connection beyond the confines of this single night.
Gathering his courage, Aemond brushed a stray lock of hair from Y.N's face, his voice soft yet resolute. "Y.N," he began, his heart pounding in his chest, "I don't want this to end here. Would you-would you like to go on a date with me?"
Y.N's eyes lit up with delight, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she looked up at him with a sparkle of excitement. "Yes," she replied, her voice brimming with warmth and affection. "I would love to."
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond smut#aemond x reader#hotd smut#aemond#aemond targaryen smut
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Can you please do Reo's reaction to pregnant y/n's death?
REVENGE IS A DISH BEST SERVED COLD
FT. YANDERE! HUSBAND MIKAGE REO
content warnings: character death, complications of birth and pregnancy, blood, suicide, talks about killing a child. dead dove not eat.
notes: i hope i did this one justice.
synopsis: you got the best revenge you can ever serve to him.
everything was a blur.
from the moment your water broke and the contractions coming apart since you insisted on walking around the hospital. a week from your due date and the baby is coming.
you were instantly whisked and prepped up for your birth. nurses and doctors surrounding you and you were like the fucking vip and treated like you were about to give birth to a king. it could pass as well. since you were going to be the mother of the mikage heir.
reo arrives within the first minute of your contractions. dressed in a medical gown and he's by your side. holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings to you. encouraging that you were both to have a baby and it will be done in the next minutes.
fucking asshole. he's babbling. this is how reo gets when he's happy. excited that you were about to give birth to his child and you wondered if this was really his intention to you in the first place. popping his heirs like they were easy to come by. he should have hired woman who were willing to be a surrogate or someone whose more than willing to give his wants and demands.
unfortunately for you. reo wants you and he wants he gets it.
the pain was blinding. your muscles screaming for you to rest. your eyes who can't stop the tears from flowing from how painful it was. the doctors encouraged you to push. the baby is crowning and you need to get it out. you muster what strength is left in you and with that flashes of light dances in your vision and your ears ringing.
it took a you a few seconds to register the cheers of the doctors and your baby's cries echoing in the room.
it's alive?
the baby's alive?
this couldn't be happening. the chances are high of you losing the baby so then why this damned child of yours have to live. does they want to suffer the same fate as you? why are you having this thoughts you were sure you were to suffer.
you make out reo's smile despite the harshness of the light in the room. he's all smile. you barely can make out the words he's spouting but you feel his hands on you. your head hitting the pillows once again.
this is it. he's finally a father. you gave him a son. a heir. he couldn't be more prouder than what he is feeling right now. he have a family he can call his own. he can continue his legacy.
he looks at you proudly. kissing you like there's no tomorrow but why are you frowning? aren't you happy that you're a mother now? what are you sad? why are you turning pale?
the machine beeps in a hurried manner. mimicking your heartbeat and the doctors surrounding you are in full attention. sweat drips in their forehead at the sudden beep of the machine. eyes wide at the sudden symptoms of one of the complications of birth they didn't think would happen. you were bleeding. soaking the sheets in a heavy flow that the doctors were almost shouting at the nurses to prepare the equipment to aid you.
what was happening to you?
suddenly you were aware of what's about to happen to you. your body aches more than usual. muscles turning weaker and your eyelids felt heavy. you can hear them. desperately trying to save you but you were beyond saving. it looks like your prayers were heard.
you would relish on the expression reo was having. horrified at the sight that his wife is dying on this table. you deserve it. you ruined my life and i will ruin yours.
reo sees you trying to grab him and he takes your hand in his. a smile plastered on your face and you pull reo with your remaining strength and then you began to whisper. the words that will haunt him for the rest of his life.
“this is your karma, reo.” his eyes widens at your confession. “you're going to lose me and i-i feel bad for our child, he didn't die with me instead he won't grow up without his mother and he would have a father like you.”
and with that, the futile attempts of the doctor came to stop when your heartbeat turned into a flatline in the monitor and you closed your eyes. forever.
it's finished now. you were gone. he drops your cold hand. the image of your laying in the table with your cold, lifeless body will continue to replay for the rest of his life. this should not be happening. he wants to scream to the doctors attending to you why such tragedy happened. to himself. you were supposed to be alive. raising his child with you.
he left the room shortly after you were pronounced dead. walking aimlessly at the hospital and his sight caught in the corner of his eyes are nurses tending to his newborn child.
he couldn't bear to look at his child for a second longer and that's how you get your revenge on him for the hell he put you through.
#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader#blue lock#blue lock x reader#yandere x reader#yandere x chubby reader#yandere blue lock x reader#yandere mikage reo x reader#yandere mikage reo#mikage reo#reo mikage#mikage reo x reader#blue lock x chubby reader
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sweet dreams
It should have been simple: boy meets girl then falls in love. Except everything only happened in his dreams. Can Theodore Nott bridge the gap between fantasy and reality to get the girl of his dreams?
Inspired by Taylor Swift's song, Guilty as Sin?
Theodore Nott x f!Reader
Warning: Fluff, some smut so 18+ only MDNI, characters are aged up. Uses a magical concept that deviates from canon.
✿ Masterlist | 2.9k words
Prologue
The door creaked as you swung it open to leave The Three Broomsticks, eager to breathe in the cool evening air. You scrunched your note as smoke invaded the fresh air you hoped for and turned towards the culprit, Theodore Nott. You didn’t know him personally, but guys as popular as him did not need introduction.
He didn’t notice you as he took another puff and the streetlamp cast him in a soft halo. It was not fair how some people could look so effortlessly gorgeous.
“Want one?” He reached out when he finally saw you staring, offering you his pack of cigarettes.
You huffed, “No thanks, I was hoping for some fresh air.”
He simply shrugged and turned the other way, smoking in a different direction and out of your way.
You hoped the cool air could return some of your sobriety, but nothing was as effective as a good ol’ near de*th experience. You looked up when you heard someone shrieking from the distance, growing louder and louder until you saw a broomstick zig zag across the sky that was quickly hurtling towards you and Theo.
Theo was quicker than you, holding his wand out and casting a spell just fast enough to redirect the impact to an open space. By the time you held your wand out, you had enough wits about you to cushion the witch’s fall.
You ran towards her to make sure she was fine. She laid on the ground as if she was peacefully sleeping, oblivious to the accident. You crouched beside her, arm outstretched to wake her when-
“Oh bumbling broomstick!” She yelled out and sat upright. You yelped in surprise, yanking yourself back and landing on your bottom. Theo was there within seconds, offering you a hand.
You took it and it was unbelievably soft, his grip strong as he supported you back up from the ground. You registered the smell of alcohol and cigarettes with a subtle hint of expensive cologne. You wanted to take another whiff, but reminded yourself to focus.
“A - are you okay?” You turned back to strange woman, careful to keep your distance this time.
“That chap knows sod all about wizard engineering. Mixing magic and muggle work - ridiculous!” she spat in disdain, dusting off her dress.
She turned around, catching your worried look and Theo’s stoic expression, noticing you both for the first time. “Oh my, where are my manners?” She asked, straightening her back and introducing herself.
“I’m Miss Amelia Adams, thank you for rescuing me,” you shook hands and smiled at her politely, introducing yourselves in return.
Your eyebrows knit together as she fished around her bag, looking for something.
She beamed when she found it and held out a daisy for you. “To properly thank you, please accept this flower,” she then leaned in conspiratorially, “it grants a wish.”
She winked before gathering herself and her ‘bumbling broomstick’ as she called it. “Well, I’m off,” she declared, walking away as quickly as she had come before you had any chance to say goodbye.
You were stunned, holding the flower in your hand. You scoffed at the idea of wishes, the only way to get something is to go out there and take it. Hard work and strategy was far more effective than any wish. After a few moments of awkward silence, you turned to Theo. “That was…” you trailed off, trying to find the right word.
“Odd,” he completed for you, just as stunned as you were.
“Are you okay?” You asked Theo. He grunts and you reassured him you’re fine in return.
“Have this flower, you saved us first. Thanks, by the way. You should get the wish,” you said casually, only half believing the mysterious Miss Amelia.
He accepted it and placed it in his coat, stoic expression still in place. When he said nothing else, you turned on your heels to go back to your friends in the pub.
You paused when Theo called after you as if saying goodbye as an afterthought. “See you at school?” He said. It seems he recognized you too.
You turned around and gave him a friendly grin, “in your dreams,” you said in a playful tone. Despite being school mates, you and Theo revolved around different orbits. You experienced just enough failed relationships to know better than to start a friendship with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable.
He just smirked and watched you go before returning to his cigarette. Had he held the flower in his hand, he would have noticed it glow before bursting into tiny glitters, a wish about to come true.
That night, Theo first dreamt of you.
Main story, months later
The booming party music faded when Theo heard the familiar sound of your laughter. He shifted in the Slytherin common room couch as his entire focus gravitated towards you like you were the sun his planet revolved around.
It was always disorienting, he thought, to hear and see you somewhere outside his dreams. Mostly because you never looked his way here but in his dreams, you’ve given him everything he ever needed and more.
He recalled the first words you ever said to him in his dream, “you again?”
“Is that such a bad thing?” He asked with his boyish grin, amused. He wasn’t used to seeing this reaction from others except for his friends.
He no longer remembered the rest of that conversation, but one minute you two were laughing at something silly and the next, he was tucked comfortably in bed. It was then he realized it was all a dream he could just laugh off and forget about. It was no longer funny by the third night he kept seeing you.
You both discussed how absurd this all was until you realized how fun it could also be. So you tested different ways you could take your power back and control the dream you found yourselves in. He discovered you were smart and funny, it warmed something in Theo’s heart that he did not care to examine.
Soon enough, he was flying with you through the sky, swerving through clouds as the stars blurred past like strings of fairy lights. You both flew like it was the most natural thing in the world, no broomsticks needed. He felt like a kid again, fearless and free.
One time, he went to a muggle amusement park you heard so many great things about. You rode on roller coasters and ferris wheels then ate candy floss. You would have gotten a fever the next day from all the sugar and shouting if not for the fact this all happened in your dreams. He had never felt happier.
On quiet nights, you laid on cool grassy hills enjoying the evening breeze. Sometimes, you watched sunsets on the beach while listening to the ocean waves. Those were his favorite days. You told him about your big plans and ambitions. He tried to stifle his smiles, but your energy was so infectious. The world felt bigger and brighter when he was around you.
He’d tell you about his mother. How close they were before they were permanently separated. He said he kept her alive by remembering their happy moments that he’d tell you stories about. He also talked about his strained relationship with his father and how silly his friends were, but oh how he’d d*e for them.
He found himself spilling thoughts and secrets he could never tell anyone else. He stammered every now and then, not used to opening up, but you were so patient. He felt safe with you because you’re a good listener. Besides, wasn’t he basically just talking to a figment of his imagination? He tried not to overthink it.
Theo felt the couch beside him dip as the familiar smell of smoke and cologne announced Mattheo’s presence. “Want to go for a smoke?” He asked with a smirk as he flashed a joint.
“Later, okay?” Theo replied distracted, his focus still on you.
A student rose from the couch and moved away as Lorenzo approached. Thanks to their popularity, the boys always seemed to find a convenient seat when they needed it. He joined the two with a grin, drinks in hand. Mattheo took in Enzo’s disheveled hair and loose tie. He accepted the drink and gave him a high five knowing he already had his conquest for the night. Theo accepted the drink and just held it.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” Mattheo asked, taking a swig from his cup.
Enzo blushed and took a sip of his drink. “You know I never kiss and tell.”
Mattheo rolled his eyes in response, “until you’re drunk enough.” He pushed Enzo’s cup back to his mouth. “Come on, drink up.”
Theo tuned out the conversation and he saw you dancing with your friends, your hips moving to the beat of the music. His eyes darkened as he remembered how those hips rocked into his. It didn’t take long before you first kissed him under the stars when the conversation died down, simply because there was nothing else to say.
All other thoughts and sentiments could only be expressed in the way your fingers gripped his wavy hair, when he bit your bottom lip and you moaned against him. Before he knew it, you were reciting his name like a prayer even though it felt anything but sacred when he slammed his hips into your dripping pussy. He savored the way your nails scratched his back. He didn’t know until then how someone’s grip could make him feel so wanted.
He always made sure you knew he how much he appreciated you:
“Fuck, you’re taking me so well amore.”
“I’ll make you feel so good principessa, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”
“You’re so beautiful when you’re on your knees,” he’d say as he stuffed his hard length down your throat.
He memorized your shape and knew just where to touch you to be rewarded with your filthy moans and curses. He liked making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Loud screams, sheets gripped, chest heaving. He took delight in the way you came undone for him, your little whimpers were so cute he could not resist thrusting faster into you so he could feel you clench against his desperate cock again and again.
His favorite part was after he came inside you when you swiped your finger on your upper thigh and brought his spilled seed to your lips. You said you loved the way he tastes. He always said you could have as much as you want, he was all yours and you were his.
“Theo, mate?” Blaise called out to the unresponsive boy who gazed intently at the crowd.
He turned to Mattheo and narrowed his eyes, “how much weed did you give him?” Blaise couldn’t help but worry about his friends, it was exhausting really. Mattheo pushed Theo outside his comfort zone whereas Theo pulled Mattheo back in when he went to extremes. They always kept each other in check, but he was worried that balance could tip off at any moment.
“Easy on the accusation, he’s a big boy. He can do what he wants,” Mattheo replies defensively. “Besides he hasn’t taken any green, he’s too high on that girl already. Been eye fucking her all night.”
Mattheo’s harsh words finally cut through Theo’s daydreams and his jaw twitched in annoyance, “I’m not. You should talk about her more respectfully.”
Enzo chimed in, “you know I hate agreeing with Mattheo, but he’s right.” Ignoring Mattheo’s de*th glare, he continued, “there’s nothing respectful about the way you’ve been looking at that poor girl.”
Theo just rolled his eyes and groaned, not wanting to discuss this with his friends. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know where to start. Instead, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for a smoke,” and walked away before anyone could protest or go with him.
As he walked, his thoughts returned to you. One day, you laughed because of his jokes. He laughed because he was in love with you.
He laughed at how ridiculous it all was, but it had been months and he could no longer deny it. He always thought love was overrated. How can others go out there declaring love like it’s a wild adventure you’re about to embark on? Love that you would fight and break for? He didn’t want an adventure nor a battlefield.
Then there was you and he realized everything he knew about love had only been one version of it. Being with you restored his breath and calmed the butterflies in his stomach. It’s a love that did not challenge him to be better, but instead told him he is already good enough. That he was always enough. It’s the kind of love that felt like home. It’s the kind he never knew he needed.
You haunted him even when he was awake. He was always tempted to approach you to see if the things he saw in his head could be real. His only clue was the way you wore ribbons in your hair and how it matched your mood to the stories you’d tell him.
He noticed you wore red when you were angry like the time you had to do a group project by yourself. You wore blue when you felt sad and green when you felt generally peaceful. His favorite was pink because it meant you were happy. He noticed how the closer you got, you wore the pink ribbon more often. But today, you wore a black ribbon. He had never seen it before and it worried him. Then again it was only a theory, maybe it didn’t mean anything.
So he always talked himself out of approaching you. Theodore Nott was used to broken things whereas everything with you and about you was perfect. He knew at the very least to leave it well enough alone.
His thoughts carried him to the Astronomy Tower where he lit his cigarette and stared at the evening sky.
“You always seem to be polluting the fresh air I go out for.” Something in his heart froze and then burned brightly. It was you. He heard the smile in your voice before he turned around to look at you. Salazar, you were so beautiful.
“You always seem to find me when you need fresh air. Are you sure you’re not just looking for me?” He teased, but nevertheless moved to extinguish his cigarette.
You chuckled at Mr. Arrogant who always knew his way around girls. “I was just kidding, keep your cigarette though your lungs probably hate you.”
He scoffed, he already hated himself. But mostly, he hated how desperately he wanted to reach out and kiss you without being a total creep. “I’ll survive,” he replied, taking a final drag before snuffing it out. “What brings you here?”
“Aside from the not-so-fresh air?” You grinned before turning serious. “This is a nice place to think.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Salazar, he’s relentless. “I’m in an impossible situation and I’m starting to lose hope,” you admit. So that’s what the black is for, Theo realized.
He scrunched his nose as he thought twice about what he was about to say. It was so silly trying to hold back when he’d give you the moon and the stars if you asked for it. “Whatever it is, you shouldn’t lose hope.”
You laughed at him and let out an exaggerated gasped, “coming from Mr. Emotionally Unavailable?”
He laughed in return, “ah, my reputation precedes me.”
“Exactly, so don’t go around saying things like that. People might think you have a heart behind that big brain of yours.”
“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” He leaned in conspiratorially.
“No, everyone would stare at you then.”
“You know it’s rude to stare.”
“Oh yeah? What should I do instead?” You challenged.
“Kiss me,” he said with a smirk, a half joke and a half plea.
You laughed and took a step back, placing distance between you. So this was how he got girls, you mused.
Salazar, he was losing you. If he was going to try, he had to be sincere. No charms, no masks. “Amore, I…” he began but grew self conscious at the nickname. “I mean, I wanted to…” he started then stopped. “I wonder if…” he tried again.
“I know,” you said, fire burning behind your eyes at recognition. This was the boy of your dreams. Awkward when he tries to be sincere and it was so adorable. It always made you feel special because you knew he had walls for the rest of the world. But with you, he was at home.
You closed the distance to meet his lips and the kiss said everything he needed to know. All those evenings together talking beneath starlit skies, exploring flesh and soul, falling in love. They were real.
His hands found the curve of your hips so naturally as he pulled you closer against him, just like he’s done countless times. He savored the way your fingers made their way through his hair. Everything felt electric, at once new and familiar. It was better than anything you had dreamed of.
When you both broke for air, you found yourself blinking in disbelief. “How do we both have the same dreams?”
Theo just shook his head as if to say he didn’t know but then he remembered your first meeting. There was a witch with a bumbling broomstick and a flower. His eyes widened. “The flower from all those months ago.”
Your eyes lit up with remembrance, “the mysterious Miss Amelia!” You brought your hand to your lips, “I didn’t think it was real. I said you’d see me in your dreams.”
“And now you’re my dream come true, amore,” he said, pulling you in for a hug.
You giggled at how sweet Mr. Not So Emotionally Unavailable could be. “And you’re mine. See you tonight then?”
He chuckled, “and then tomorrow I’ll take you on a real date?”
You scrunched your face, “but now we can’t fly through the stars anymore.”
“Oh, I have other ideas,” he whispered in your ear.
Your heart leapt to your throat and anticipation hummed in your veins. After all, some things were sweeter than dreams.
✿ Masterlist
A/N: I've mostly written for Enzo and Mattheo until now but when I thought of this plot, I just knew only Theo could do it justice. So this is how I wound up writing my first Theo fic. Hope you liked it!
#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott smut#theo nott#theodore nott#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#amongemeraldcloudswrites
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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 11
Marcus Pike x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.
Rating: E for Explicit! 18+
Word Count: 14.9k
Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Marcus Pike the Breeding Kink King, a dash of dirty talk, the tiniest whiff of roleplay, sexual activity in a public place, cum eating. False accusations of cheating, gossip rags being gossipy, descriptions of getting a tattoo (needle mention).
Summary: The end of your trip to Texas comes with a few surprises, and a meeting with your mother goes far better than expected. But good things do not guarantee paradise forever.
Notes: Hi my lovelies! I do apologize for the spotty posting timeline lately. My health has been inconsistent to say the very least and continues to be unpredictable. Thank you for bearing with me and always being so incredibly supportive. I'm certain that I missed fixing some errors in this chapter, but I blame the migraine I've have for the last 10 days. Enjoy this week's chapter!
Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10
The last night you and Marcus are in Texas comes after an afternoon-long barbecue that somehow manages to outdo every barbecue of every previous day. You're pretty sure that you've been nibbling constantly since sunrise but rather than being overwhelmed, you're just sorry that you're going to have to leave tomorrow and not see most of these people again for a long time.
The water in Marcus's hand is for you and he comes over to drop a kiss on your lips as he presses it into your hand. "Band is starting at seven." He tells you. "Do you want to shower beforehand?"
"Probably should." There's mischievousness in your agreement, though, and you tuck a smirk in the corner of your mouth as you take the water from him. "I saved my cutest top for tonight. To be the very best groupie I can be."
"Oh really?" He chuckles at how eager you have been to meet his old bandmates. "I like groupies." He smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you close. "Really like them."
"Do you want to show me how much?" You ask, letting that smirk loose but keeping your voice very quiet even when you bat your eyelashes at him.
"I can do that while we shower." He groans wickedly, winking at you. "Unless you want to save that for after the show?"
"No need to save," you assure him easily, drinking down half of the glass of cold water he brought you and letting your grin grow wider. "There will be hours in between. We can do both."
"Insatiable." He grins back and you, wrinkling his nose slightly and proud about that fact. "I love it."
"C'mon." Grabbing his hand, you head for the house with a bitten back grin. Back inside and upstairs to his room – now appropriately defiled by the fact that you're in that Early Relationship Honeymoon Period and horny as hell – to add his childhood bathroom to the list of places you've fucked on this property.
Marcus smirks when there’s a number of suggestive whistles that ring out. Everyone here aware of how eager the two of you are and he gives a halfhearted wave before disappearing. You might be embarrassed if you cared at all, but his cousins have been nothing but welcoming and accepting. They all seem to share the opinion that Marcus has waited too long to meet his match and you are more than happy to be the one that they have welcomed as their cousin – or nephew or son's – perfect match.
“I love them all, but I need to get you alone.” Marcus huffs as he practically races over to the stairs.
"Alone, naked, and wet, I hope." You're on the stairs just ahead of him, the advantage of one or two steps meaning your ass is right in his face as you hustle up to the second floor.
"How wet you are depends on how good of a job I do turning you on." He can't help himself, reaching out and slapping your ass, something you love if your delighted giggle is anything to go by. "How wet are you?"
“Wet enough that if you even touch me over my clothes, I’m going to moan,” you admit, glancing back at him when you reach the top of the stairs.
"Promises, promises." Marcus reaches out and cups your pussy from behind, jumping up the last two steps to press close to you. "Fuck, I love you." He growls into your ear as he rubs your clit.
“Oh fuck—” Maybe it’s more of a whine than a groan but the arousal in your voice is unmistakable. Pressed between Marcus and the wall, your hips rock to get as much pressure and friction from his hand as absolutely possible. “I—I love you too, baby. Fuck.”
"Shower." He orders softly, pulling away from you reluctantly. He knows he can't fuck you in the hallway and his cock is already pressing against his shorts.
Since the discovery of your interest in a more submissive role sexually, you and Marcus have been enjoying playing with the dynamic. Soft orders for things that he knows will bring you both pleasure. Seeing how well you follow his instructions while he’s inside of you in any way. Right now you move with long strides to get to the shower as quickly as possible, already shedding your clothes along the way.
Smirking as he watches the rushed strip show, Marcus pulls his own shirt over his head. He's never had someone so enthusiastic for his touch and it's honestly its own kind of high. Plenty of women wanted him, but not with the hunger that you constantly display. He can only hope that it never changes. "So sexy." He huffs, unbuttoning his shorts to step out of them as he follows you.
“Oh yeah?” As soon as the water is on, you glance back over your shoulder and throw him the most tantalizing glance you can possibly summon. “Come and show me how much.”
“Fuck.” He hisses and immediately rushes forward to crowd into the shower with you, pressing kisses to your back as he folds in closer to you.
Marcus might be testing the waters with how dominant he’s comfortable being, but he still likes it when you show him how much you want him. When you hum at the feeling of his hands on your skin or moan deep in your throat at the perfect kiss. He even loves moments like these, when you whimper at the way his large hands spread over your body to hold you as close to him as you can possibly be without him being inside you.
“Love you.” He whispers into your skin, not wanting you to forget it in the two seconds since he has said it last.
“I love you, too.” Pressed into that little space together, you twist your head around to kiss him and then lean forward against the wall. There aren’t too many comfortable ways to fuck standing up under falling water, but having him press into you from behind is good no matter where you are.
His hands slide over your body and one sinks between your thighs. Immediately parting enough for his hands with a quickness than has him smiling. “You like when I finger you?” He teases. “Rub your sensitive little clit for you?”
“I like every way you touch me.” Your hips roll as if to prove it, searching for the right angle to get his thick fingers to sink inside of you.
“Greedy.” He chuckles softly. “That’s what you are.” He doesn’t pull his hand away, giving you what you want as two fingers slip inside you. “My greedy girl.”
“Can’t blame me for getting addicted.” You moan, forehead pressed against the tile, when his fingers scissor open inside you. “You feel so fucking good baby.”
“You feel better.” He groans quickly, working you open as the hot water rushes over you.
“Made just for you, baby.” If there was ever anyone you could truly feel that about, it’s Marcus. The way he seems to make you feel complete in ways you didn’t know you needed or even wanted is uncanny and beautiful. And the way he fills you to bursting is just as fantastic.
Marcus worships you with small kisses as his fingers move inside you, groaning in your ear about how good you feel. The thick length of him pressed against your ass. “Marcus—” His name is a whine and a prayer with every long stroke of his fingers. “Please, baby. Please fuck me.”
“I’m going to.” He promises, grinding against your ass as he continues to finger you. “Too bad you still have your birth control.” He moans in your ear. “Dreamed about you pregnant last night. Nice and round with my baby.”
“Fuck.” If anyone had suggested pregnancy or breeding or any of those fertility-related kinks to you before Marcus, you might have laughed them out of your bedroom. But in a few short weeks, you’ve got from wanting children but not looking forward to being pregnant — all the way to getting wet at the thought of starting to swell with Marcus’s baby. The impulse to promise you’ll stop taking it tomorrow is right on the tip of your tongue but you know it’s just a touch too soon. “Yeah?” You breathe instead. “You woke up hard to the thought of fucking me full of your baby?”
“Why do you think I was ravenous this morning?” He asks, chuckling at how he had woken you up. He had been a little embarrassed by the dream, so he hadn’t mentioned it at the time, but realized later that it was dumb to keep it from you. “When you’re ready, I’m going to be feral.”
“We need to start building that house now.” You insist, suddenly possessed of a whole new set of reasons to be eager for more privacy.
He chuckles as he nibbles on your shoulder, moving to the hollow of your neck. “Yeah? You want to paint a nursery right away baby?”
“We’re gonna have to if you keep growling about getting me pregnant.” Something which you apparently find far sexier than you anticipated, if the way your cunt throbs and pulses around his fingers is any indication.
"You love the idea." He challenges softly, humming against your pulse. "It's not my fault you're so perfect I can see the future we have in store."
“I love the idea so much I’m ready to say let’s just buy a house.” The throaty laugh you let out burns into a long moan when he curls his fingers inside you. “Need you, baby.”
"Never want you to say that I don't give you what you want." He pushes your feet apart, careful not to let you slip on the slick tile and pulls his fingers out of you to immediately replace them with his cock. A smooth transition planned to keep you from missing the fullness.
There is more freedom here, at least where volume is concerned, and when your moan bounces off the tile it is music to Marcus's ears. The utterly satisfying fullness of having him inside you is indescribable, even if you have tried to find the words several times talking to Syd. Sharp, powerful strokes will work you both up to your peak quickly, letting you enjoy the water that burns as hot as your skin as he pounds into you.
Marcus has learned that going harder is needed sometimes. It’s something that both of you enjoy and lose yourselves in, always making sure that you are still with him with filthy sweet praises in your ear. “My perfect princess.” He groans. “Taking me so well.”
It’s so much filthier coming from such a sweet, unassuming man like Marcus, and he presses you into the wall with a firmness that leaves absolutely no room for questioning. You are his. He is yours. And anything you moan to each other in the throes of passion is fair game. Filth, praise, and everything in between is welcome as your hips slap against your ass and your throat strangled around the endless cries of pleasure.
It’s never been this good. It’s cliched to even think it, but it’s true. He can barely even breathe when you are surrounding him. Drowning in you happily. “Fuck, I love you.” He promises. His hands squeeze and caress before sinking back between your thighs to rub your clit while he continues to fuck you at a frantic pace.
“Love you so — fuck! — so fucking much.” You practically claw at the wall of the shower when the calloused pads of his fingers find your swollen clit and press in on tight circles. Perfect little circles. “So close baby, so fucking close.”
“That’s it.” He groans. “Want you to cum. Want you to soak me. Need it.” He dips his hips lower and changes the angle that he shreds up inside you.
“Fuck—fuck—can’t wait until you’re fucking me full of your babies, oh god—” He’s already an expert at tearing you apart and putting you back together, and this time will be no exception. Your legs shake with it and your belly tightens, coiling at the base of your spine tightening as pleasure rips through you.
“That’s it, fuck, so good, Princess.” He hisses in pleasure. “Cum for me. Fuck, you feel so good squeezing my cock. I love it.” It only takes two or three more sharp snaps of his hips before you’re calling his name, sure that if anyone else is in the house right now they can definitely hear you but too overcome with pleasure and too full of him to care.
When you cum, it’s like your entire soul melt with his. Your heartbeats align and for a split second, Marcus can’t tell where you end and he begins. Perfectly fused together in ecstasy. As soon as you tighten around him, his thrusts ease, still moving but helping you float down from the precipice. “Good girl, fuck baby, you are so good to me.” He pants in your ear. “So good. Giving me everything, aren’t you? Yeah, you are, I can feel it.”
“Fill me up, baby.” Your legs may be rubber at this point but that sensation of his cum painting your inner walls is worth holding out for. It has you rocking your hips back even more than you need to ride the aftershocks of your own orgasm, hoping to bring him to his.
He loves when you say that. Groaning your name as his pace picks back up. The slap of his hips not quite as sharp, but insistent. “Gonna, fuck baby, gonna fill you up.” He moans in your ear. “Drip me all night.”
From the way his hips start to stutter you know he’s close, and you grind back against him with a low moan. “Gonna be dripping your cum while I meet all your friends.”
“Just the way I want you.” He groans, kissing your shoulder and moaning as he pushes deep, throbbing inside you as he fills you up.
There’s nothing but the sound of running water and panting breath for a minute or two as you both collect yourselves, arms wrapped around each other in the best way you can manage while he’s still inside you and you’re leaning on the shower wall. “I love you so fucking much.” You murmur, giggling softly at the giddy feeling still coursing through your veins.
“I love you too.” He whispers, smiling against your shoulder as the soft aftershocks continue to squeeze him as he softens inside you. “Addicted to everything about you.”
“Glad we agree about that.” It isn’t elegant but you twist around and manage to place a kiss on his jaw. “So…breeding kink, huh?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles sheepishly as he slowly pulls out of you. “Sorry. I know that took you by surprise.”
“Not in a bad way.” You promise him, fully turning around now, to put your arms around him before you both have to clean up. “Surprising but…potentially shared?”
“When it actually happens is still one hundred percent up to you.” He assures you, wanting you to know he would never pressure you, no matter how much he dreams about the future. “But shared, huh?”
“Surprise,” you tease, reaching for a washcloth.
“Every day is an adventure with you.” He chuckles and steals another kiss before he turns his attention to getting ready for tonight.
You’re right on time despite taking an overlong shower, arriving at the club in downtown Dallas in time to see a group of his old friends gathered at the bar.
“Hey.” A carefree grin lights up his face, reunited with old friends and their spouses. The band is about to leave to get on stage so it’s quick backslaps and promises to catch up later after he introduces you proudly. They disappear and it seems like all the other crowd around you to all talk about Marcus.
It’s much the same as it was with his cousins. Quick questions about you — or the occasional “That’s why I recognize you!” — but mostly wanting to tell stories about young Marcus in the olden days, teasing their old friend and gauging your reaction to their stories to decide if you’re good enough for him. You don’t mind of course. Your friends would have done the same if they hadn’t already met Marcus before you got together.
“Hey now.” Marcus pouts and protests but it’s all in good fun. He’s enjoying the stories; taking him back down memory lane. He hugs you tighter to him as he laughs at a college age story, where he had imbibed a little too much and made a fool of himself.
“Everyone got drunk and dumb in college at least once, didn’t they?” You hug his side and grin at him while his friends tease and chatter. “And I’m sure you weren’t the only college student in the world to skateboard across campus in boxers and a cowboy hat. I’m just impressed you didn’t fall off the board more if you were drunk.”
“Hammered.” He confirms with a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know if I would have felt anything that night.”
“All the better that you didn’t get hurt then,” you laugh with him, enjoying these glimpses into the Marcus of the past. “Though I think we should recreate the look. For posterity.”
“Bachelor party.” He grins, leaning in and kissing you on the nose. “One of those boring co-ed ones where the couple is disgusting and can’t be apart for even one night of debauchery.”
“Cause we’re gross in love.” The smile on your face is blinding, lighting you up from the inside out as you beam at him.
“Yes we are.” He agrees, unable to stop himself from kissing you again, as his friends groan playfully around you both.
“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus’s old college roommate huffs good naturedly and rolls his eyes. This is the guy Marcus had lived with before he moved off campus to live with Lara and he’s always known Marcus Pike to be exceptionally lucky in love. “Lucky bastard.”
“I am.” He agrees with a small nod. “I’m honestly surprised that you aren’t already engaged.” One of his closest college study partners snickers as she shoots you a grin. “He always was rushing into things headfirst.”
“Don’t think he didn’t give me a ring right away,” you joke, holding up the shimmering promise ring on your hand. “But we want to keep our heads on straight, so it’s a promise for now and an engagement a little bit into the future.”
“There’s the Marcus we know and love.” She giggles, taking your hand and admiring the ring. “Honey, it’s gorgeous.”
“Isn’t it?” The little heart-shaped diamonds wink and shine in the dim lighting of the club and you can’t help but smile proudly. “I told him he set a dangerous precedent with this one. If the promise ring is this beautiful then the engagement ring has to be, too.”
“Knowing Marcus, it’s perfectly designed to set with your promise ring.” She guesses, grinning wildly when he shuffles guiltily. “I knew it!” She throws her arm around his shoulder and smacks a playful kiss on his cheek. “Atta boy!”
“You did not buy it already!” You gasp in shock, giggling with unrestrained joy at the embarrassment and glee on his face.
“It’s safe.” He promises, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to risk them not having the perfect mate when I came back.”
“You’re incorrigibly sweet.” The idea that he’d gone so out of his way makes you melt on the spot, with warmth in your cheeks and a fluttering extra beat of your heart. “And I love you.”
His group of friends cheers when you kiss this time. For all the shit they give him, they are all thrill Marcus has found his sweet soulmate. Right then, the lights dim and everyone turns towards the stage. “Marcus Pike.” His eyes widen when the lead singer says his name. “Report to the stage. There is a bass waiting to be played.”
“Oh fuck yes!” When you squeal with absolute pure excitement you grab his side and practically cackle with glee. Even Agent Bailey is smirking in her plain clothes. “Go, baby! Go!”
“Oh my Gooooood.” Marcus groans as he’s practically shoved towards the stage and he shakes his head, pointing his finger at the band. “I hate you guys.” He moans, even as he shuffles closer, but they just grin.
“Best night ever!” You call back, grinning from ear to ear as you make your way to the front with his friends.
“This is going to be amazing.” Hooking her arm through yours, Stephanie grins at you. “Have you ever heard Marcus sing?”
“No.” And you pout about it for about two seconds before the glint returns to your eyes. “He always demurs and says he’s not that great but I know he’s being humble.”
Marcus shrugs out of his leather jacket and winds the strap of the bass around his neck and back to quickly strum a chord before adjusting the tension to his liking. “I’m going to hurt all of you.” He huffs, even if he’s grinning out at you.
“You fucking love us.” The lead singer, his old friend Leo, reminds him with a shit-eating grin.
Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs, not even able to deny it. “Which songs are we doing?” He asks instead.
“Set list is next to your pedal,” Leo tells him, grin only growing bolder when Marcus doesn’t deny anything. He knows his old friend misses playing. They’ve talked about it. Hence this silly little stunt. “Just like riding a bike, right Pike?”
He snorts and looks out at the crowd, his eyes automatically finding you and he smiles. “Yeah.” He scoffs. “If riding a bike means embarrassing the shit out of yourself in front of your soulmate.”
“It absolutely fucking does, dude.” Leo laughs, slapping Marcus on the back before he steps up to the mic to hype up the already excited crowd.
Marcus winks at you from the stage and looks at the lineup. Most of them are songs that they performed when he was in the band and quite a few that he knows Leo knows he knows. Apparently this wasn’t just a last minute deal. As Leo introduces the band, Marcus starts the bass chords for the first song.
It’s not the night you were planning — swaying to the music with Marcus with a cold beer in your hand while his friends played. This is infinitely better. Marcus is in his element up on that stage, showing off and playing to the crowd and making sure he finds your eyes every so often. Surrounded by friends and an enthusiastic audience, you could see Marcus enjoying many more nights like this. It makes you all the more glad that his friends decided to surprise him.
The crowd is a mix of older and younger people, the songs favorites and he enjoys the energy of the people singing along. Finally finished and sweating, in desperate need of a beer, he grins when you clap and yell.
"You are absolutely incredible." The second he hops down off the stage; you're practically jumping into his arms to give him a kiss. "And I never, ever want to hear anything about your singing voice again. That might be the sexiest singing ever."
He laughs, catching you easily and spinning you around. “Think you might be a little biased, Princess.” He teases, feeling euphoric and like he could do anything tonight.
"So?" The giggle that bubbles out of you is nothing short of adrenaline-infused joy. "I'm still right."
“Shit.” The laughter is infectious and he joins you. “I need a beer.” He admits, squeezing you close.
"Allow me." You insist, and when he makes a face you hold up a hand, still grinning. "Groupie's privilege."
“Groupie, huh?” He chuckles again and slides his hand down to your ass. “You have someone in mind?”
"Yeah," you poke his side and laugh, wiggling the fingers of your other hand in his face. "The one wearing the ring."
“Ring?” He glances at your hand and smirks. “That’s a pretty ring baby, but I could do better.” He flirts. “Dump that guy and run away with me. I’ve gotta sweet van and I know how to treat a lady.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
"You think you can do better for me than my soulmate?" Batting your eyelashes back at him and half playing along, you tug Marcus toward the bar to get him his drink. "He's pretty amazing."
“I know I can.” He snorts, grinning at your playful banter. “You’ve never been with a musician baby.”
"Hmmm." An amused hum barely smothers your grin and laughter. "I have heard that bassists are experts with their fingering."
“Then you know.” He nods as you both slide up to the bar and Marcus orders a draft. He turns back to you. “My fingers are magic, baby.” He promises. “I can take you to the stars.”
It's too hard for you not to giggle at that, leaning into his side there at the bar. "I did know that already, though."
He breaks the character he was putting on and winks at you. “I was merely playing my favorite instrument.” He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Your pussy.”
"Marcus." Your tone is very false in its admonishment, and you're still grinning when you swat at his arm. "You can play her any time you like."
“Now?” He arches a brow in challenge.
You should have known he would jump on it, and you tilt your head at him with a wide-eyed expression. "I mean...not here but..." Glancing around the room proves that there is little cover to be found, and you bite your lip. "Bathroom?"
Marcus smirks and nods to the bartender when he sets his drink down. “Come on.” He takes your hand and drags you away, unable to even drink his beer in his haste to make you cum.
Practically able to feel the heaviness of Agent Bailey's eyes tracking you across the club, you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the promise of his hands on you is so close you can already feel it.
Normally, Marcus would never do this. Not now. But somehow, being with his own friends and playing, seems to have tapped into the wilder side he had exposed when he was younger. Not thinking like an FBI agent at this moment.
The club has two single-occupant bathrooms in a back hallway, and Marcus shoves open the door to the nearest one to tug you inside. "Holy shit." You're giggling again, bubbling over with it. "We're so lucky Agent Bailey trusts you."
“Amazing what a background check and a security clearance will get you.” He jokes as he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He knows he can’t be in here too long with you, it would be rude, but he has to touch you right now. You are just adoring him too much.
It's almost too bad you wore jeans tonight, but you had wanted to keep that feeling of fullness after the shower and truth be told the denim inseam still managed to give you a little stimulation on the way out here tonight. Now Marcus pops the top button open with eager fingers and you whimper softly, biting back the sound so no one in the hall outside hears you.
“Gotta be quiet, Princess.” He coos, smirking at your already lust blown eyes. “Can’t let anyone know you’re fucking a musician in a bathroom, can you?”
You’ve never done anything like this before and he knows that, but with wide eyes and the shivering desire to obey, you nod your head and bite back a needy whine. His hand slides down your panties, finding you slick with new desire and the remnants of his cum covering your lips. He groans your name in your ear and immediately pushes two fingers deep inside you.
It takes effort not to cry out. Not to whimper or moan or keen his name at the sharp, sweet intrusion of two thick fingers deep in your pussy. The vaguely taboo tint of doing something sexual in a public place only makes it better — a surprising feeling that you’ll have to bite for later — and you bury your face in the crook of Marcus’s neck, knowing that it will muffle the little bit of sound that you simply can’t swallow in your own throat. He doesn’t draw it out, doesn’t tease you. Just pumping his fingers deep and twisting his wrist to rub your clit as he tries to see how fast he can make you cum for him.
It’s like being sent up in a rocket, where all you can do is lean back against the sink in the little bathroom and hold on tight. He knows your body, knows how to make you see stars without breaking much of a sweat, and the adrenaline from playing on stage that’s still coursing through him keeps the pace of his fingers thrusting inside you at an almost punishing speed that feels amazing.
It’s like his playing a song with your body. The soft whimper echoing the timing of the beat of his fingers. Kissing along your neck as he pants against your skin. Already throbbing in his pants, but this is for you. “Good girl, baby. You’re so sweet for me.” He groans quietly.
There's not really much you're doing for him right now except keeping quiet and spreading your legs so he can dive inside you, but you'll fix that later. You'll lay him out on his bed and worship him for as long as he will let you. Right now your back arches and you have to let go of your white knuckle hold on the counter in order to tug him closer, pouring the moan that you want to let loose into a kiss instead.
He feels when you let go. Your moan muffled by your tongue as your walls soak his fingers in their pulsing grip. Feeling your heartbeat through the sensitive walls of your pussy. It’s so good and he loves that you are enjoying yourself as the bar music plays loudly.
"Fucking hell..." When you can finally breathe again you look up him with a hazy smile. "I'm gonna give you the best blow job of your life later on," you promise him with a grin.
He smirks as he pulls his wet fingers out of your fluttering cunt and holds them up to the dim light of the bathroom. They are shiny with your slick and he reaches out to your lips. “Open.” He orders.
That was not at all the response you were expecting, but somehow it far sexier because of that, and even though you've just cum you can feel your pussy fluttering at what he wants you to do. It only takes a second before you open your mouth, letting him put his fingers heavily on your tongue before you obediently clean them of any trace of your slick.
Marcus groans quietly, cock twitching in his pants and all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink to fuck you this time, but he can’t. You pop his fingers out of his mouth and he hisses at your innocent look. “Good girl.” His voice is raspy and dripping with lust.
"I feel like I should start calling you something." Leaning up, you steal a kiss and then rebutton your jeans so the two of you can wash up and go back out to his friends. "But I don't know if you wanted to be that kind of dom."
Marcus chuckles as he watches you in the mirror. “So you’re telling me you want a red room in our new house, hm?”
"I'm not gonna be mad about it if you want one," you answer innocently. "I just had the very intense urge to call you...'daddy' a second ago, but I didn't know if you'd like it. That's all."
Marcus has never been in a situation where someone would call him daddy so he has to think about it. “Only one way to find out.” He decides, patting you on the ass as you move out from the sink so he can wash his hands.
"I guess we'll give it a try later then." The air dryer in the bathroom is loud enough to drown out any other conversation, so you finish cleaning up and steal yet another kiss before dragging him back out into the club feeling like you're living on Cloud Nine.
Everyone in the group knows what happened when the two of you disappeared. At least to some degree. They might not believe that it was only an orgasm for you, but the grins are wide and Marcus snorts at the whistling and clapping from the guys. You brush it off with burning hot cheeks and a grin and go to get fresh drinks from the bar. Tonight has been pretty fucking perfect in every way you can think of. The best possible way to say goodbye for now to Texas, although you know you'll be back as often as you can be.
Marcus accepts this beer quickly, feeling parched and he winks at you before he takes a sip. “I think she might want me to find a band in D.C.” he teases.
"Oh, ya think?" Stephanie snorts, leaning into Leo's side when he comes over to join you at a high-top table.
"Actually..." Leo smirks, looking down at his soulmate before he glances up and around the group. "The guys know this already but...there was a big reason we were glad Pike showed up tonight." He tips his beer toward Marcus in salute. "Tonight was the last Dallas show we might ever play."
“Really?” Marcus frowns instantly, looking around to the group. “You guys are gonna stop playing?”
"We're moving in about a month." Leo announces. His arm winds around Stephanie proudly and he squeezes her tight to his side. "Steph got an amazing job at George Washington Hospital. So we're actually moving to DC."
“What?” Marcus sputters and starts beaming. “That’s great!”
"I'm really excited," she admits, smiling even bigger and brighter than Marcus is. "So maybe you won't have to find a new band after all."
“Well, we’d still have to find other members.” He look at the guys. “Until you come out to visit.”
"Maybe we'll all move East." Their drummer, Clark, jokes. He takes a sip of his whiskey and leans on the table. "Y'all know anyone that needs an electrician or a carpenter? I could be persuaded."
“We’re gonna be building a house.” Marcus snorts. “You’re hired.” He’s joking, because he would never make that decision without you, but it’s interesting to think about. Clark is the best damn carpenter he knows.
"Actually..." Tilting your head to look at Marcus beside you, you shrug your shoulders a little and have a sip of your drink. "There's some work that needs to get done at the inn, too. I've been putting it off because my electrician retired last year and finding a new guy is a pain."
His brows lift in surprise and Clark smirks. “Really, tell me about it.” He encourages.
"It's a historical property," you clarify right away, knowing that that scares some people off. Which is fine with you, really. If they aren't comfortable working on historical structures, you're not going to work with them anyway. "Of course things have been updated, but the structure is colonial so it does require a little bit of tender loving care."
“That’s awesome.” Clark snorts. “I love historic structures. Have you rewired the entire building or are you having to replace as you uncover issues?” He asks. “Code has changed so much since knob and tube. And that’s recent in a historic home, depending on how historic.”
"I've only owned the property for a few years, so we're having to play catch up from the previous owner." His enthusiasm is met with plenty of your own, and you look back at Marcus with a wide grin. "You just watch how fast I adopt all your friends. I was not exaggerating about that being what my family does."
Marcus laughs and leans back. “Adopt away, babe.” He encourages you. “You’ll get sick of them quickly.” He teases, laughing again when they all shoot him a finger.
Two days after touching back down in DC, the early morning meeting that you have with your mother and the communications staffer whose job it is to wrangle all things concerning the First Kids means that you’re up and moving before Marcus. You’re essentially having breakfast at the White House, which is less cozy than having coffee and muffins with your soulmate, but this meeting is important. You really do have things to talk to your mother about.
The staffers show you to the less formal dining rooms in the apartment, a rare time the president allows business to be conducted here, but it’s important that you feel comfortable.
The family dining room in the White House residence is still beautiful, and honestly you prefer it to the larger state dining room. The smaller and more casual room makes it easier to convince yourself that it’s just a normal breakfast with your mother today. Agent Bailey blends into the background here, noticeably more relaxed when she is around other agents and not working solo. It’s a good morning for both of you, and you move to the sideboard in the room to make yourself a cup of coffee while you wait for your mother to come in.
The communications staffer comes in and greets you warmly, laying out folders by the plates. “Your mother should be here in a few minutes. She was just in a briefing.”
“How are you, Annette?” The senior staffer that’s joining you is a woman that you’ve known for years. She was also on your mother’s staff in Pennsylvania and she is a good friend of the family after so many years working side by side.
“I’m doing well, how about you?” She asks politely and gives you a warm smile. “Your mother told me about your soulmate, I’m so thrilled for you.”
“That’s so sweet of you, thank you.” There’s going to be a lot more talk about Marcus as this goes on if your mother and Annette accept your proposal, but for now you sip your coffee and smile. “The adjustment to DC hasn’t been too bad for you? Everything’s been okay?” A little small talk before your mother comes in and breakfast gets served is actually nice. With everyone being so busy you feel like there are people you haven’t gotten to talk to in ages.
“It’s always crazy, but we are adjusting well.” She smiles. “Brad isn’t too fond of the traffic, but who is?” She snorts. “I keep threatening to steal a diplomatic plate.” She jokes.
"I'll nab them for you," you promise her, sitting back with your coffee and smiling at the way your promise ring glints in the room's lighting. "They can't fire me from being First Daughter."
She laughs, knowing that you are completely joking but it would be funny to see the headlines. “I’ll expect one then.” She teases, picking up her own coffee to sip.
It takes a few more minutes before your mother comes in, but you and Annette sit and chat and pour second (or third, in your case) cups of coffee.
“I’m sorry, Birdie, Annette.” Your mother rushes over to drop a kiss on your head and throw her arms around her friend’s shoulders briefly. “That took longer than I expected.”
“Everything okay?” You’re wildly aware that there is plenty that your mother deals with that you do not have the security clearance to know about, but that isn’t what you’re asking. You’re asking if your mother herself is okay.
“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “But I wish that people would stop trying to impress me with long winded reports going over every minute detail.” She huffs with a laugh. “My favorite briefing is from DIA Agent York. He gives me the bare bones information and it’s over in less than five minutes.”
“Would he consider it a blessing or a curse to be out on the State dinner guest lists in appreciation for his speedy briefings?” You ask, practically snorting a laugh at breakfast is served.
“Knowing the kind of man he is, a curse.” She snorts, appreciating your joke but also because she would never willingly let a man like Dave York around her family unless he was protecting them.
“Well, it’s nice to know that the chaos around here is just normal chaos.” The smile you offer your mother is fully understanding. The inn is your own beautiful area of normalized chaos.
“Of course. Thank you for coming.” She acknowledges that her life, her career isn’t the center of her children’s lives and she doesn’t take for granted when they make time for it outside the normal Friday night dinners. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Mom.” An early morning meeting is a small sacrifice to make, especially when Marcus exhausted you last night trying out a sexy little card game you’d had stashed away since Syd’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago. It’s safe to say he liked the suggestions the game came up with. “There’s coffee, amazing food, and my favourite Mom, why wouldn’t I come? Although Marcus’s mother is pretty great. Solid second place in the Best Mom Ever competition.”
“I wanted to ask you how your week in Texas went.” She admits, pouring her own cup of coffee. It’s her third cup of the day so far, but she’s also been up since four.
“Honestly?” You pause when a staff member sets a plate of hot food in front of each of the three of you and a large platter of pastries and fruit in the center of the table. The chorus of Thank you’s is in unison. “It was fantastic. His parents are great, I got along pretty well with most of his cousins, and even met a bunch of his friends from college. It was…” you grin at The admission forming on your lips. “It was really wonderful. His parents are planning on coming up to visit us here this summer.”
“That’s wonderful.” Your mother lights up and she nods. “We will have to have a family dinner.” She suggests. “Here? Personal tour of the White House? Do you think that would be something they would enjoy? I know his father would probably enjoy a game while he’s here as well.”
“Marcus has season tickets to the Nationals so we’re definitely planning on seeing a game.” The omelets that have been set out in front of you are steaming and you dig in to your plate without hesitation. “I was going to ask you about a tour for them so thank you for jumping on that. And I know they would love to meet you guys. A family dinner would be really great.”
“Marcus is wonderful and I can guarantee that it’s a reflection of his parents.” Your mother hums. “And as your soulmate, I think it’s important that everyone meets and gets along.”
“I know his parents already said they wouldn’t be offended if you were too busy, but I do want you guys to meet.” Donna and Matthew Pike had sworn that they would completely understand if they didn’t see hide or hair of your parents during the trip, but that hadn’t sat well with you. Your parents have always made time for the important things in their kids’ lives no matter how busy they were.
“Absolutely not.” Your mother sounds offended by the idea. “There is no reason, barring a world catastrophe, where we should meet his parents at your engagement party or some other event. “No, if they want to have something low key, we don’t have to meet here. But I am eager to meet them.” She shoots you a grin. “Diplomacy can wait for one evening.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t pass up the chance to have dinner at the White House.” The grin you send your mother is beaming and appreciative. “That’s a bragging right not everyone gets. There will be plenty of informal meals in the future.”
“Then I will try to make sure that the chef makes something that will measure up to the amazing food Sydney will be plying them with.” If it wouldn’t hurt your business, your mother would have hired her to be the White House chef in a heartbeat.
“I will carry that compliment back to her on a silver platter.” Now that all three of you are eating — devouring — your breakfasts, you don’t mind getting into things. Of course your mother doesn’t have all day for this meeting, but you expect to be sitting here with Annette for at least a little while. “So, before I put my two cents in, what kind of social media and press presence were you thinking you might wrangle me into?” You’re curious, after all. Since Junie has a clear passion and Alex is handsome and personable, whatever route they chose for you was bound to be a little different.
“Well, I was hoping that we could show how small businesses are vital for our economy.” Your mother looks over at Annette who is nodding. “You are a small business owner and you work with others as well.”
“Okay.” You nod, mumbling the word as you finish a bite of food. “So highlighting the small businesses we work with? Making visible visits to other small businesses? That kind of thing?”
“I know that you utilize some of the local merchants for your supplies.” Your mother nods. “Maybe some clips of you with them? We can do a voice over with the message we want to sent.”
“I’ll compile a list of who we have good relationships with and you let me know who you want to have footage of?” It’s a big plug for the businesses that you do actual work with, so you can’t imagine any of them objecting. “Patronizing your local small businesses is a message I’m happy to get behind.”
“Corporations have garnered too much power in the country.” Your mother agrees. “We need to find a balance between them and a simpler time where everyone shopped local.”
“Alright, that’s easy enough.” Although you’re sure that other complications will arise in time, agreeing to this plan is at least something you’re glad to do. “Anything else?”
A look is exchanged between Annette and your mother. A pause that should be concerning. “It’s about…your soulmate.” She begins.
“What about him?” You frown instantly, not liking the tone that has been chosen for this thought.
“I was hoping that you might sit for an interview.” Annette is the one who voices it. “For the Love is Love legislation that your mother is trying to get passed.
“Oh!” The hesitation in their voices is nothing to do with Marcus, really, and you relax measurably. “Yes. We can definitely do that. And actually?” Looking between your mother and Annette, wondering what they’ll think of this idea coming from you of all people. “I think I can do you one bigger than that.”
“What do you have in mind, young lady?” Your mother almost smirks at the idea that you are suggesting something.
“I know I’m not the kid you expect this from.” The look on her face says that loud and clear and you completely understand why. “But Marcus and I talked it over, and we thought we would see what you thought about a First Family love story. From engagement to wedding to building a house.”
As a career politician, it’s been a rare time where your mother has been speechless, but she just gapes at you, her mouth slightly ajar in shock. “I— are you sure?”
"I mean we're not offering to have a White House photographer follow us around every second of every day, but we know that things are going to get said about us no matter what. Our family are public figures, and Marcus grew up with a father in the spotlight. We figured that getting ahead of the narrative and giving people honest glances into who we are was a hell of a lot better than people just speculating wildly."
“That is an amazingly gracious idea.” She can understand that you are going out on a huge limb and that is so appreciated. “Are you sure you would be comfortable with that scope?”
"We've talked through it," you tell her, knowing that it's probably unbelievable for her to hear this coming from you. "And I'm more confident when I have Marcus with me. I feel better able to handle the extra sets of eyes on my life. So...I thought it made sense not to waste that."
“I think that would be incredible.” She reaches out for your hand. “Only what you will give us though. No more.” Your father had reminded her right before leaving for her briefing that you are her daughter and probably the most private out of the three children. You don’t crave the spotlight at all.
"Marcus thought we could start with the engagement," you tell her, knowing that this is a big leap for you and trying not to be nervous about it. "But I think I should put something on my social media about him being my soulmate first. Maybe some photos from a date with a small announcement?"
“It will mitigate any issues that might spring up.” She doesn’t mention how there has been chatter about the congressman being unhappy about the demise of your relationship. That’s not your concern.
"Our favorite restaurant is family-owned, and we can pick something to do afterward that is still small business or community oriented." That shouldn't be too awfully hard, considering the DC area is always crawling with choices for things to do. You're spoiled for it, really.
“Whatever you think would be best.” She smiles at you. “While I would normally have one million ideas, I think it’s better if this is organically from you.”
“I know Marcus already has my engagement ring hidden away somewhere.” A fact which makes your cheeks burn and your smile turn a little dopey. “But I don’t know anything else as far as that goes. Is it okay if I give him your email so he can touch base with you, Annette?”
“Absolutely!” Annette agrees immediately, while your mother looks impressed that your soulmate has already bought your engagement ring. More importantly is your reaction to that information, you look dreamy eyed and she couldn’t be more happy for you. “I must applaud Marcus for thinking ahead.” Your mother hums, taking a small sip of her coffee to hide her smile.
“We’re both thinking ahead.” A fact which gives you no end of pleasure. The flight back from Dallas had been spent in dreams and future plans, cuddled together looking out the window and making up a list of big and small things you wanted for your future together. “We’re starting to plot out what we want for our house, too. That’s the timeline that’s going to take the longest.”
“Your house?” You had mentioned it before, but your mother ticks her head to the side curiously.
“We’re going to build,” you explain, reaching for a scone from the plate of pastries on the table. “Since the land that the inn is on is more than enough and I own all of it, we’re going to use a portion at the back of the acreage to build a house.”
“That sounds like an adventure.” She’s always known you enjoy doing things your way and it’s refreshing to see that apparently your soulmate understands how much of your being is invested in the inn.
“It’s going to feel like a mansion after sharing my apartment in the inn.” After a little discussion, Marcus had decided that he would rather share the smaller space with you while the house is being built and sublet his current place to Clark — ensuring that his friend can have the new start in DC that he wants. “But we’re excited. It’s a whole lot of planning and big steps forward all at once, and for once I really have a partner who’s on the same page as me.”
“That’s the most important thing.” She knows this from experience. There is absolutely no way she would be the current president if your father hadn’t been on the same page as her as far was what their lives might look like. It’s something she’s always wanted for all of you.
“So…I know it’s more than you were going to ask of me.” Which you appreciate. Your mother recognizing and honoring your boundaries is something she had to work on a lot when you were in your teens and twenties. You look at up her and crack a small, bashful grin. “But it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity for something as uplifting and positive as a White House wedding.”
“A White House wedding?” Your mother’s gasp is surprised, honestly believing you would never even entertain an idea like that. “Are you- you’re joking right? It’s not April Fools Day. That was days ago.”
“I am not joking.” Although you can definitely see why she would be shocked. This is not a decision that you made quickly or easily — or alone. “But I do have an ulterior motive,” you admit, wanting there to be full transparency. “I am hoping that a super-secure and publicly documented White House wedding is a trade off for letting us go on our honeymoon alone.”
She doesn’t even glance at Annette. “Absolutely.” Your mother immediately insists. “There is no way I would want any kind of publicity for your honeymoon. You don’t even have to negotiate for that.” It’s honestly alarming that you think she might want you to do something for her political career on your honeymoon.
“Oh, that isn’t what I meant,” you clarify immediately, seeing naked distress in your mother’s face when she’s normally so good at staying neutral. “I meant…without my Secret Service detail. Give Agent Bailey and Agent Sisson a few weeks off while we go overseas. Marcus is very well trained and definitely enough to keep just two of us safe.”
Her expression eases slightly, relieved that’s not what you are talking about and she nods. “I think that will be entirely appropriate.”
“I’m optimistic that we can make sure this works for everyone.” Sitting in your seat in the family dining room, you lean back with a little extra confidence — bolstered by the fact that you know Marcus is with you every step of the way, just like your family. “Make this happy, and exciting, and something to look forward to.”
“Whatever you want.” Your mother agrees. “Whenever you want.” She adds. “I don’t want you pushing up plans for us, sweetheart.”
“We said we wanted to get started on the house before we get engaged,” you tell your mother, though you have to appreciate her insistence here. Plenty of other parents would hack the timeline if they were in her shoes. “So it will depend on how quickly we start in on those plans.”
“And Marcus wants to stay at the inn while you build?” She asks, lifting a brow in surprise. While she has seen your little apartment and thinks that it’s darling, Sam had always insisted it was too small to share space for even more than a day.
“We talked it through and he feels like it’s more important for me to be close to the inn than for his commute to be shorter. He’s going to sublet his current place to a friend that wants to move up from Texas and then the friend can take over the lease when it comes up. We’ll have a little less space than we would if we stayed in his apartment, but we don’t mind close quarters.” A fact which you will not look bashful about right now…no not at all…
“That’s a very solid plan that you have laid out.” Annette compliments. “It seems like you and your soulmate have made a lot of plans.”
“Right now I’d call it our favorite hobby.” Second favorite, but you’re not talking about your sex life in front of your mother…
The president snorts and rolls her eyes as she reaches for another scoop of fruit. “Sure.”
“Anyway.” Forcibly getting the conversation back on track seems like a smart idea. “Annette is my point person, then?”
“Yes.” Your mother takes the hint with a small smile. “I reasoned you would be more comfortable with her than any of the new staff.”
“And I appreciate that.” You offer both your mother and Annette a grateful smile. “Especially since this is going to involve my soulmate, I’m very glad to have someone that I know and trust working with us.”
“I am eager to meet him.” She hadn’t been present at the state dinner, she had been sick, but from what she can tell she will like him.
“Why don’t you come by the inn and have dinner with us sometime in the next week or two?” You suggest, figuring that would be nicer than a formal sit up in an imposing setting. “Something casual for the first time you meet? So we can all relax a little.”
“That sounds perfect.” Annette knows the value of an informal meeting. It often creates a better mood for the entire interaction.
"Awesome." Having everything moving in a comfortable direction is as much as you could ask from this meeting, and it's nice to see your mother semi-relaxed at the start of a workday. "Well, I'm sure you have eighty-seven things to do today Mom, so I won't keep you."
She winces apologetically and looks at her watch. “I’m actually about three minutes late for a cabinet meeting.” She admits, standing up to move over and kiss your forehead again. “Are you and Marcus coming to dinner on Friday?”
"We'll be there with bells on," you promise her. "Go get to your meeting. I love you, and tell Dad I love him too."
“I will, sweetheart.” She promises. “Annette, I will see you later. Take your time finishing breakfast.”
The unfortunate truth is that the dinner with Annette might be necessary sooner rather than later. Within a bare twenty-four hours of the White House Easter Egg Roll and the official photos that refer to Marcus Pike as your soulmate, the commentary on social media and in online tabloids begins.
Marcus frowns as he opens the new story. It’s not uncommon for articles to be inflammatory, he knows that from the state dinner, but this is all but calling you a cheating liar. “Fuck.” He growls, eyes narrowing on the wording from the ‘anonymous source’.
"What's wrong?" Your nose is stuck in the schedule for next week while dinner is in the oven and you sit with Marcus in the living room, but you glance up when he sounds unhappy.
Marcus sighs and turns his phone towards you so you can read the headline. “I hate to accuse anyone, but this fucking sounds like your favorite congressman ex.”
"Sounds more like your ex, if you ask me." Vanessa might look sweet and innocent, but she can be cutthroat and single-minded in her goals when she sets herself to it. Something she learned from her justice father. "Think they're getting their jollies going after us together?"
“Shit- you think?” He ended things on a good note with Vanessa. Actually, she broke up with him, why would she smear his name?
"I don't know what her motive would be besides trying to get under Sam, but I wouldn't be surprised by it." Leaning forward to read the beginning of the article on his phone, you still frown. "I knew somebody was going to try saying we cheated, but damn."
“We know the truth.” Marcus frowns as he rereads the article. “This seems to imply that we are lying about being soulmates.” He looks over to you with a small grin. “That’s proven easily enough.”
"Hmm." That does make you smile, and you look up at him from behind your laptop. "Are you thinking we should stage a little photo on my social media as a response?"
“Absolutely.” He’s not thrilled about the tattoo you both share, but it’s solid evidence of your connection. “Your reputation won’t even tarnish a little.”
"I'm sure I'll get some snide comments about the kind of tattoo we share, but that's on me." You shrug at the truth of it. "I definitely should have gotten it somewhere else."
He laughs and shrugs. “Doesn’t make a difference now.” He reminds you. “It’s on both of our skin, so it’s proof. You’ve had it for years and so have I. Should we post new pictures and old ones with the tattoos?”
"We can do a little album on my Instagram." The suggestion is a welcome one, but it does mean you push your laptop away and set it on the coffee table to snuggle a little closer to him. "You have old photos with the tattoo in them?"
“I do.” Marcus chuckles. “But….” He shrugs. “They were taken by my ex-wife. She’s not in them.” He assures you.
“That’s fine.” Frankly, if Lara gets involved in the conversation it will just reinforce the fact that Marcus has had your marks for a very long time. “I can bribe Agent Sisson to be our photographer for a photo that has both of us in it.”
“And how do we want to casually set up pictures of our lower backs?” He asks with a grin.
“There’s nothing casual about what we’re doing.” You tuck yourself into his side and grin. “This is answering a call out.”
“To address any unfounded and untrue rumors….” He captions with a snort. “Straightforward. I like it.”
"If we wanted to do this casually, I would just say we should go take some pool pictures." You glance up at him, seeing what he thinks of that. "Violating my mom's no bikini rule for a good cause."
“I like bikini’s.” He agrees immediately, his eyes darkening slightly with lust.
"Oh yeah?" The smirk on your face is nearly instant. "Like we should take a tropical vacation level of like?"
“Like you need to book one immediately.” He huffs. “Texas didn’t count as a vacation.”
"Of course it did!" The fact that he's getting all bent out of shape imagining you in a bikini when he sees you naked on a daily basis is adorably, quite frankly. "And you can't even claim it wasn't sexy. We nearly broke that bed."
“Of course we did.” He laughs. “It’s old and we are horny.” He teases, biting his lip as he pulls you close. “But in a bikini, it’s so much less clothing to take off you.”
"You wouldn't even have to take it off." He's getting ideas and you turn your face up to smirk at him, fully encouraging those ideas to take form. "Just shove it aside. Nothing else needed."
“Fuck.” He hisses, clenching his jaw and imagining fucking you on a beach somewhere.
"Gonna keep that imagine in the spank bank, babe?" You can't help but tease him a little, knowing that you would be reacting exactly the same way if it was Marcus teasing you. But you started it this time so you get to tease.
“Fuck yes, I am.” He snorts. “We would get arrested. But it would be worth it.”
"There's a private beach where we could get away with it somewhere." Leaning up to press a kiss to Marcus's cheek, you're still grinning. "Good to know it's on the fantasy list, though."
“Very high up there.” Marcus admits with no shame. Just the freedom to explore these ideas with you is amazing, even if they are never acted on.
"I think..." The only thing that keeps you from shifting into his lap is the kitchen timer going off from the oven. Instead of climbing on to him you just climb off the couch to get to the baked pasta you put together right before Marcus got home from work. "That maybe we should do half the honeymoon in Paris and the other half on the Riviera? Get some swimsuit time in?"
“I like the way you think.” Marcus chuckles quietly, nodding. “How long are we talking? A few days in each place? A week?”
"A week each?" You pull him up from the couch to come to the kitchen with you. There's still a table to set and wine to pour, and all that good stuff. "Two weeks in France sounds like magic."
“I agree.” He grins and grabs the bottle of wine you had set out. It’s become a routine to have a glass with dinner and he enjoys the selection the inn has, although it annoys you that he insists on paying you for the wine.
"A big, beautiful wedding. Two weeks in Paris. A lovely house for us to move into." Every time you think through the plans you're starting to make for the future, they sound better and better.
“That sounds perfect to me.” Marcus admits, smiling softly at the idea. “Have you thought about the style ideas I sent you?”
"I was showing your Pinterest board to Syd on our lunch today." The collection of Dutch Colonial, Queen Anne, Georgian, and Federal style houses that Marcus had put together to share with you is full of so many ideas that you had lost track of time in the kitchen and was almost late to interview a new member of the housekeeping staff. "She likes the Queen Anne style Victorians, of course."
“Of course she does.” Marcus grins as he lifts a brow. “Which one of those were you most interested in?” He doesn’t really mind what architectural style your home is in, as long as you are happy with the result.
Having decided that the edge of the property where you planned to build was far enough from the inn and her out buildings that you didn’t need to be loyal to the colonial structures, you have a little more freedom to choose what you build. “I think I like the Georgian houses you sent me best,” you tell him, setting down two plates of baked pasta in the table at your customary seats. “It complements the colonial style without being obsessive about matching, and it’s not overly complicated.”
“That’s a good choice, and it still fits with the overall theme of the property.” Marcus agrees. “However…one thing I think is a must in our new house.”
“What’s that?” The two of you settle down and pick up your forks, comfortable in the relative quiet of the apartment while Agent Bailey takes one of her occasional walks around the grounds.
“We have to have an elevator in our house.” He’s gotten used to the elevator at the inn and can’t imagine living without one now.
“Non-negotiable?” You tease, knowing that on the nights he goes to the gym after work he groans his way into the apartment on principle. “Noted. You will have your elevator.”
“Thank God.” He dramatically moans and tosses his head back. “Getting older sucks. You’ll see.” He teases about the age gap, but it’s only seven years. “Heartburn is about to start.”
“I was more thinking of our kids,” you admit quietly, poking your fork into a big bite of sausage and zucchini and pasta together. “What if one of them needs the house to be accessible?”
“That thought had crossed my mind.” Marcus agrees. “But we will pray that all our children will be healthy, prepare in case they are not.”
“No matter what, they’ll be cared for and loved.” That, at least, you can both guarantee.
“Plus it will be easier when someone undoubtably breaks a leg.” Marcus snorts, laughing slightly. “It seemed like it was a contest in my family who would break a bone first every year.”
“Kids are gonna be clumsy,” you joke, pointing your fork at him in teasing accusation. “Got it.”
“But they will make up for it with good looks and charm.” He grins back at you and winks.
First Princess Cheating Scandal is the headline splashed across the tabloid on the magazine rack, and your hand twitches before reaching for it. This is the bullshit you absolutely hate about being in the public eye, and now that they’ve started coming for Marcus you hate it even more. The article inside claims that you faked your matching marks — including your scars, which is possible but extremely far fetched — and that you’ve been sleeping together since at least the night of the State dinner.
With another one of those dinners on the horizon and the weariness in your bones over now spending multiple weeks of time on this stupid non-issue, you pay for the magazine and continue on to the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building with it shoved in your purse. Agent Bailey’s advice had been to let it roll off your shoulders because people are always going to gossip, but as much as you’d like to do that it’s possible this might affect your mother’s image. Or your business. Your previously fully booked inn has had multiple cancelled reservations since this whole thing started.
So you walk on, with the little treats you made in a container in your purse and Marcus’s favorite midafternoon coffee order from the shop around the corner to surprise him at the office.
Marcus is pouring over a case when you knock on his office door. He doesn’t keep it closed, preferring to let his team come to him whenever. To feel like they can. Looking up, he sees you and immediately smiles. “Birdie.” He almost said Princess, but since the beginning of this entire ‘scandal’ non-scandal thing, it’s kind of soured the nickname. Immediately abandoning the file, he stands up and rushes around to give you a kiss. “This is a welcomed surprise.”
“I did a little baking with Syd this afternoon and the results were so good that I couldn’t wait to share.” The kiss is a comforting balm, even if it’s short, and you hold up the cup in your left hand. “And I brought your coffee.”
He groans in appreciation, of both the baked goods and the caffeine. “I was just about to get another cup from the break room, but this is better. His hand slides around your back and he rubs it soothingly, seeing the pinch of upset around your eyes but he wants you to talk to him naturally. “Want to come inside? Share it with me?”
You nod and step inside, your own cup from the coffeeshop clutched in your other hand. It’s herbal tea, though. Caffeine didn’t seem like a good idea when you’re already anxious. “Agent Bailey is in the bullpen, I hope you don’t mind.” Now that you’re in a relationship with a well-trained and fully competent federal agent, your Secret Service detail tends to be a bit more relaxed about giving you space.
“Not at all.” Marcus insists, guiding you over to the little couch in his office. “Rodriguez will show her where the donuts are.” He snickers.
“So…” he sits down beside you and you pull a small container of Madeleines out of your oversized purse to offer to him, but the magazine is sitting just underneath and it makes your eyebrows pinch together all over again. “We walked past a news stand on the way here and…saw a new headline.”
“Oh no.” Marcus sighs, he takes the container but sets them aside to give you his full attention. “Bad?”
“Not great.” With a resigned sigh, you pull the magazine out of your bag and hand it over for Marcus to inspect. Under the headline is the now-famous shot of the two of you dancing together and the article inside includes a paparazzi shot of the two of you grocery shopping alongside one torn from your social media of a date night.
He winces at the headline and huffs, opens it, flipping to the article and skimming it. “I want to really get this ‘anonymous source’ into a fucking interrogation room.” He growls, growing more and more upset at the outright lies that are being insinuated. “But it’s fucking hard to be sleeping with you when security from Vanessa’s building has me showing up on a timestamped tape.”
“Agent Bailey was less than thrilled with the accusation that she would lie about anything out of loyalty. You might have to fight her for that interrogation.” Shaking your head as he puts down the magazine, you’re craving his warmth and security enough that you lean in on the couch beside him. “I had an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it,” you admit quietly.
“What is it?” He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, wanting to protect you from all this. He feels guilty, like you would be better off if your connection hadn’t been acted on.
“It’s….a little dramatic.” You can admit that, too. Although at this point you feel like a dramatic response isn’t uncalled for.
It might be necessary, in Marcus’s opinion. He nods and hums while waiting for you to continue.
“How would you feel about having another tattoo?” The question is posed carefully, quietly, but you had been considering it all the way over and bandied it back and forth with Agent Bailey during your walk. While extreme, it would certainly put all doubts to rest to share a video of you getting a new tattoo and having it appear just seconds after being finished, fully formed on Marcus’s skin.
“No gang or face tattoos.” Marcus jokes, shrugging slightly. “I’ve got no problem if you want to get a tattoo, sweetheart.” He decides. “But I don’t want you to do that simply to prove that we are soulmates. We don’t owe anyone anything.”
“I know it’s not owed.” That thought had never even crossed your mind, actually. “But I want this put to rest and something small that we decide on together would be a nice mark to share under almost any circumstance.” Shrugging a little, you take a sip of your tea and sit back. “It’s just a thought. Obviously I’m not going to just go off and do this on my own. That’s the opposite of the point of it.”
“No, I’m not opposed to it.” Marcus protests softly. “I just want to make sure it’s not from a place of insecurity.”
“Even if we weren’t soulmates, I would think it was sweet to have matching tattoos,” you tell him honestly, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment when your mind was chaotic just a half hour ago.
“What kind are you thinking of?” He asks softly, smiling as you lean against him. He enjoys the warmth of moment. The quiet comfort of you with him.
“I haven’t come up with anything brilliant.” Or even anything original. You had mostly been waiting to talk to him about it. “But something small, that’s reasonably discreet? Behind the ear or on the ankle or something like that? Even the wrist, so you could cover it with your watch when you want. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”
“What about a little flower?” Marcus offers. “Behind the ear. I can cover that with my hair if I need to, and it can be your favorite bloom.”
“That sounds completely adorable.” The smile you have for him is beaming, feeling the way your heart bursts at his absolute acceptance and support. The love that radiates off him even in something as simple as knowing how much you love flowers.
“I thought you would like that.” He admits, tapping just behind your ear. “And you are so sensitive when I kiss right here. Especially when I’m inside you.”
“That’s mostly because you’re inside me.” Even though your cheeks burn with it and you slide down a little against his side, you’re still beaming at him. “If we’re going for things that enhance sensitivity then maybe I’ll have to look into piercings,” you tease.
“Don’t tease.” He pouts, twitching under the proper suit. “I can’t think about those kinds of things and be expected to work.”
“Oh, would you like if I had secret piercings?” You raise one eyebrow in interest, surprised to hear such an enthusiastic response to the passing idea.
“Piercings are hot.” Marcus would never deny that. “If you wanted to get some, I would support you completely. Enthusiastically.” He teases with a grin.
You hum at him, intrigued enough by the thought to actually heavily consider it, just imagining his face seeing them and how eager he would be to play with them. “That would be a very personal gift for my soulmate.”
Yes it would be. Marcus hums, trying and failing to hide a small smirk. “Personal is good.” He agrees, “but don’t feel like that’s something I have to have. If you want it, that’s one thing.”
"It's something to think about." It's no secret to him that you like things that mark you as his – your soulmate marks, of course, but your promise ring and occasionally wearing a piece of his clothing as well. Piercings might be something only he would see, but that just makes it all the more meaningful.
“Hmmmmmm.” He chuckles and nods his head. “It is. But I don’t think you came all the way down here to just fill my head with dirty thoughts.”
"I came down to surprise you with coffee and tell you that I love you." When he cocks his head slightly, you end up grinning. "I might have a little date night planned for you tonight. The caffeine has ulterior motives."
"Oh really?" He perks up, smiling slightly as he looks over at you in utter surprise. "So I need to make sure I'm home on time tonight?"
"Actually?" His delight is gratifying, and you squeeze his arm gently at your waist. "I'm taking you right from here. Our night is in the city."
"Kidnapping me, hmmm?" He grins widens and he bites his lip. "What does Agent Bailey think of such activities?"
"Oh, she helped me plan it." And she seemed to have fun with it, too, which made the little diversion even better. "Even made our dinner reservation for us."
"Wow." Marcus makes an impressed face. "That was a plot twist I didn't expect." he laughs. "Am I allowed to know any details or just show up and look pretty?"
"Just be your handsome self when I come back at five to pick you up." You stretch up to kiss his cheek, glad that he seems to be looking forward to tonight and hadn't been looking forward to just going home. "I'm going to scoot home, finish some paperwork, and get all dolled up for you."
"Bring me back an outfit?" Marcus asks, turning pleading eyes on you. "It can be another suit, I just want to freshen up too. Look my best."
"I'll bring something devastating but understated." That isn't hard considering Marcus's wardrobe is extremely well curated, but you still like to pay him the compliment as you pull yourself back to standing. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, babe."
He can’t help but grin a little more, your compliment making his shoulders lift confidently. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises, pressing his lips to yours in the office where there’s privacy, although he will walk you to the elevator.
"I love you." That is for the privacy of his office too, but only because it comes with such a doe-eyed look from you that it's nearly obscene.
“I love you too, Hummingbird.” He promises, the same sappy look in his eyes as he turns to guide you out of the office. His hand rests on your lower back, over the tattoo.
Unfortunately, no date night photos or other positive presence on your social media is enough to combat the now growing accusation and rumors surrounding your soulmate status. It's only two weeks after first presenting the idea to Marcus that you're both sitting in a tattoo studio with the artist that did a beautiful flower tattoo for Sydney's sister AnnaLeigh.
Marcus had asked Juan to come and film the entire thing, so it couldn’t be said that it was spliced together. Although he was sure that comment was coming. Some people couldn’t be pleased no matter what, they didn’t want to believe there was an innocent reason for them being together.
The simple design would not take long to ink into your skin, and the artist helped Juan set up two chairs so that both you and Marcus could be in the shot to capture the instant the finished tattoo appears on Marcus’s skin. The entire video would be shared on your social media, audio included, so you had had to work up the nerve to even just chat with Marcus on camera. Sharing another mark with him isn’t stressful at all, it’s letting the public so deeply into your personal life that is.
“I like the design.” Marcus sits down on the other side of you and takes your hand. “You should have let me do the tattoo this time.” He jokes. “I don’t know what it feels like.”
“We can switch if you want to?” You’re nervous, and he knows it. Not for getting the tattoo, but from everything that has been going on.
“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do.” Marcus wouldn’t take this experience from you if you want it.
“It’s small,” the artist assures you, seeing anxiety in her clients. “And behind the ear doesn’t hurt very much for most people. I had one woman nearly fall asleep on the table because she liked the humming and the soft vibrations.”
Marcus can handle a little bit of pain. You know that. A tattoo is nothing compared to broken limbs or the incident when he was undercover and was shot — which had sent you in a flurry of cooing and coddling for about three days when he first told you about it. Tattooing is the kind of pain that some people find pleasurable, so you squeeze his hand and nod. “Why don’t you give it a shot? You might decide you like it and we’ll end up here all over again.”
“Is that alright with you?” Marcus asks the tattoo artist, knowing they might not appreciate a change of clientele.
“Fine with me.” She nods as she sets up her tray. “I have both of your information on file and believe it or not this happens a lot. Soulmates come in with a design they’ve chosen but they’ll change their mind at the last minute about which one of them will actually being sitting for it.”
Marcus chuckles and turns you both so he can sit down in the chair. “We’ll both be wearing it anyway.” He agrees. “So I don’t mind experiencing it.”
“I’ve never been shot but I guarantee it hurts less.” You move to let him sit in the artist’s chair and situate yourself by his side.
Marcus chuckles as the tattoo artists eyes widen. “I’m a federal agent.” He explains quietly. “It was just a flesh wound, but she thinks it’s impressive.”
“It is impressive!” And you’re just going to keep telling him so over and over until he caves, but right now you just throw a pout at him to make him laugh.
Marcus gives you the laugh and turns his head to the side, staring at you. “Still not as impressive as you are beautiful.” He murmurs softly, although the video picks it up.
“I love you, too.” The bashfulness in it is only because you weren’t expecting that kind of compliment right now — as the artist about to permanently ink Marcus’s skin is making sure she has everything she needs on her tray. You lean into his side and tip back your head, nothing but pure love in your eyes right before they slip shut at the brief press of your lips to his.
Marcus hums, an automatic sound that comes out of him when you kiss him. Excited that you are as free with your kisses as he is, it’s liberating to indulge whenever the urge strikes you. When you pull back, he grins. “Now I’m ready.”
"Go ahead and lean forward." Sitting down on her stool, the artist beckons Juan over with the camera for the best angle to watch the action and still have you in the shot. "And here goes nothing."
The first touch of the needle nearly makes Marcus jump. He barely resists the urge and then laughs quietly, trying not to move too much. “This is kind of ticklish.” He admits.
"Then it already hurts less than the one I got," you tease, glad that the experience isn't painful for him. Watching him giggle about it and knowing it's being filmed is downright endearing.
“I’m sorry.” Marcus apologizes, even though he has nothing to be sorry for. “I wish your experience was better.” He snorts after he says it. “Maybe not, or I might be covered in ink.”
"It wasn't bad, but it was definitely more than a tickle." The grin you shoot him, though, is knowing. "If you end up liking this so much tonight, we might be covered in ink because of you instead."
“Only areas that can be respectfully covered.” He teases you, sending you a wink as the artist continues to carefully work behind his ear.
"Sounds like a plan," you toss him a smirk in return and the set of you grow quiet after another round of low laughter, so the only sound in the room becomes the resilient buzz of the artist's needle.
Marcus could probably fall asleep if the noise didn’t vibrate in his head. He smiles at you, squeezing your hand gently. “After this, we will have to go get that cream to keep it clean.”
"We can get a Tattoo Goo kit before we leave the shop." His hand is in yours and you squeeze it reassuringly. "It's going to be tender for a bit, but it won't take too long to heal."
“I’m sure you will be completely cuddly as I heal.” He snickers quietly.
"I think having a cuddly girlfriend is mandatory for the healing process," you tell him seriously. At this point you've completely forgotten Juan is here for any other reason besides moral support. Forgotten about the phone in his hands being a camera and the fact that this video will become public for the world to see. This is just a moment between you and your soulmate. And a sweet one, at that.
“You should have seen me when the scar from your appendix showed up.” He snorts. “I was upset that my soulmate was hurt.”
“We were kids.” Sure he’s older than you, but you were so young when you had appendicitis. “Did it really worry you that much?”
“Yeah.” Marcus admits, not ashamed of that in the least. “Not knowing what happened, I kept imagining horrible things. Waited for other scars to possibly show up for at least a week.”
“If you had scarred from your broken leg or when you hurt your shoulder, I probably would have felt the same way.” It’s less of an admission from you and more of a confirmation, telling him in no uncertain terms how much you have always cared about his well-being. “Which is still your gunshot wound is such a big deal.” One of your fingers digs into his arm playfully. “That scared the crap out of me.”
“Well, now if I get shot, you can baby me right away.” He teases. “And tell the plastic surgeon to make the scar invisible.”
"I don't mind wearing your scars." The thought comes out quieter than you mean for it to, holding Marcus's hand tightly in yours. "I'm proud of you. And proud to wear your marks, no matter how many of them there are."
“Hopefully not too many more.” He hopes, smiling at you. “But I’m proud to wear your marks too, Hummingbird.”
The session doesn’t last too much longer. Marcus has a high pain tolerance but the tattoo mainly just tickles him, making him grin and laugh as he chats with you and with the artist for the last few minutes. When she pronounces him done and stands back, there is a moment of silence before the permanence of the piece takes hold on him and transfers instantly to your skin.
A sharp intake of breath at the momentary pain is how you know it has happened, and you glance over at Marcus — and Juan with your phone — just absolutely beaming with happiness. “Does it look as good on me as it does on him?”
Marcus inspects the area, forgetting the camera is even on and recording. He leans in and presses a kiss to the tattoo. “It looks even better, Princess.” He promises with a smile.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer
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#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike x you#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x f!reader#The Mentalist#soulmate au#First Daughter reader#Juan Badillo#Graceland#Juan Badillo x f!OC#Juan Badillo x OC#love triangle
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[Commissioned] Sponsor's Choice: YooA
Tags: Dubcon, gangbang, anal, vaginal insertion, double penetration, face fucking, cum in mouth, a lot of creampies, cum in ass
Word Count: 8,653
A/N: It's my first time writing gangbang smut with complete characters, so if things get a little confusing, I'm sorry. I hope the nicknames I came up with for the OCs aren't too weird and fit the whole concept. And thanks for trusting me with this commission. I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
YooA's hunger for solo success had grown stronger after her latest successful comeback. She repeatedly visited the CEO's office, demanding more solo events, but his response remained the same - he wanted her to focus on group activities with the other members of OMG.
While YooA didn't mind participating in group activities, she despised the CEO's habit of sending the group to pointless events. She craved something that would elevate both OMG's fame and her own status as the face of the group.
Determined to demand something more worthwhile, YooA stormed into the CEO's office with her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her skintight dress accentuated her curves flawlessly, catching the CEO's attention.
"CEO-nim, I've been waiting for this meeting," YooA leaned forward, revealing ample cleavage spilling out of her dress.
"OMG has been doing exceptionally well, but I feel like I'm not getting the recognition I deserve. These group activities are a waste of my time. I want something that will skyrocket my solo fame."
The CEO, a greedy man with a glint in his eyes, leaned back in his chair and eyed YooA with a hidden purpose.
"I understand your frustration, YooA-ya. But group activities are crucial for building your collective image."
YooA scoffed, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "Collective image, my ass. I'm the true star of the group, and everyone knows it. I want events that will solidify my position as the backbone of OMG."
The CEO chuckled, intertwining his fingers. "Well, I might have something special for someone like you, after all."
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sleek black envelope, handing it to YooA. "You've been invited to a private masquerade party for VIPs. You'll be the opening act, and then you will have a special performance just for them."
YooA accepted the envelope, her eyes glistening with excitement. "A masquerade party, huh?" she said, her fingers tracing the embossed lettering on the envelope.
The CEO leaned forward, his gaze stern. "Remember, the identities of the VIP guests will be hidden behind masks. You'll need to be on your best behavior. Impress them, Yoo Shiah, and who knows, you might secure some profitable sponsorships."
YooA nodded, envisioning herself as the center of attention. "Of course, CEO-nim. I won't let you down. I won't let this opportunity slip away." She examined the envelope, noting the date and location.
The CEO rose from his chair, signaling the end of their conversation. "Excellent. Consult your manager to handle all the preparations and training. I expect nothing less than perfection from you, YooA."
As YooA turned to leave, the CEO chuckled to himself, his eyes gleaming with interest.
"Let's see if a greedy woman like you can handle more than you've asked for," he murmured, watching her hips sway as she exited the room.
Back at the dorm, the other members greeted YooA with joyous cheers and congratulations upon hearing about the prestigious masquerade party.
The girls quickly organized a small celebration, showering YooA with well wishes and excitement. Although they refrained from consuming alcohol to ensure YooA remained sober for her rehearsals and practices, the members still reveled in the festive atmosphere.
The following day, YooA's intense preparation and practice for the masquerade event commenced. She approached the challenge with high spirits, determined to shine and secure the lucrative sponsorship deals promised by the CEO.
The choreographer pushed her to her limits, but YooA met every challenge with enthusiasm, flawlessly executing each step and vocal flourish.Finally, the day of the party arrived, and YooA's stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation.
The stylists meticulously attended to her appearance, adorning her in a shimmering evening gown that accentuated her curves. She wore an elegant mask that concealed the upper half of her face.
Taking one last look at her reflection, YooA took a deep breath. A confident smirk graced her lips as she stepped out of the door of the company and into the awaiting black limousine that would transport her to the exclusive venue.
As the elongated vehicle glided through the discreet back entrance of the lavish mansion, her eyes widened in awe at the extravagant display of wealth.
Towering columns, sparkling fountains, and meticulously manicured gardens surrounded the impressive estate, a clear symbol of its inhabitants' opulence and status.
The process of verifying her identity through the invitation card at the entrance took a few minutes, but soon enough, a staff member guided YooA and her managers to the exclusive waiting room.
Even this private space exuded luxury, with plush velvet couches, a fully stocked bar, and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the magnificent grounds.
With an hour left before her performance, YooA seized the opportunity to warm up her vocal cords and loosen her body. The mansion didn't appear too crowded, as only the elite VIP guests had received invitations.
YooA appreciated the relative tranquility, relishing the calm before the storm. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, YooA admired how the shimmering gown and elegant mask transformed her appearance.
"Time to leave a lasting impression," she whispered to herself, a surge of excitement coursing through her veins.
An hour flew by in a flash, and before YooA knew it, she was standing behind a curtain on the makeshift stage in the massive hall. The female host's elegant voice echoed through the speakers, officially kicking off the exclusive masquerade party.
Summoning her courage, YooA stepped onto the stage, her shiny outfit catching the warm spotlight glow. Her performance was on point, hitting every note and nailing every dance move with precision and grace.
The VIP guests below roared with applause, clearly enthralled by her captivating presence. Little did YooA know, the real audience was hidden on the second-floor balconies, their identities concealed behind ornate animal masks.
Their intense, hungry gazes weren't focused on her singing or dancing - they were fixated on her slender, swaying body, mentally undressing her with each alluring movement.
These VIPs couldn't care less about the quality of her performance; their only interest was how they could soon have this gorgeous starlet fulfilling their wicked desires.
YooA drank in the roaring applause, her performance coming to a triumphant close.
Every step and melody had been executed flawlessly, and the VIP audience had lapped it up eagerly.
Satisfied with her work, she made her way back to the waiting room to slip into something more comfortable while she awaited the next performance.
Returning to the plush and private space, YooA swiftly shed her gown and slipped into a form-fitting mini-dress.
"Phew, that was intense!" she exclaimed, fanning herself as she flopped onto one of the velvety couches.
Just then, a venue staff member approached, signaling for YooA and her team to follow. "Your table is ready. We've prepared a private dining area with top-notch food and drinks for you to enjoy."
YooA's interest was piqued. She turned to her managers. "What do you guys say?”
Her managers exchanged a glance before shrugging. "Well, we're not about to turn down good food and drinks. Let's go for it!" her stylist replied with a grin.
As they were escorted to the exclusive dining area, YooA's eyes widened at the magnificent spread laid out before them - platters of exquisite sushi, succulent Kobe beef, and bottles of the finest champagne.
"Wow, they're really going all out," she murmured, already reaching for a glass.
Taking a deep, appreciative sip, YooA sank into her chair, relishing the moment. "This is the life, huh? I could definitely get used to this kind of treatment."
YooA was totally digging every bite and sip, relishing the chance to go all out on the top-notch grub and drinks. As she shot the breeze with her crew, it hit her that none of them had a clue about the real deal behind this posh masquerade bash. They were just following the CEO's lead.
But YooA didn't sweat it. She was soaking up the VIP treatment, feeling confident that her killer performance had blown the minds of the guests. She sighed with contentment, giving her champagne glass a final top-up.
Before long, her managers rolled up, giving her the heads up that it was time to slip into something special for her big show. YooA nodded, setting her glass down and making her way back to the waiting room.
When she laid eyes on the skin-tight, revealing gray dress laid out for her, she raised an eyebrow. The outfit clung to every curve, her perky rack was front and center, and the skirt was so short that her ass was practically peeking out.
"Is this... a bit much, don't you think?" YooA quizzed, running her hands over the clingy fabric. But then she shook her head, telling herself to quit being a buzzkill. "Forget it. I just need to focus on putting on a mind-blowing performance."
Slipping into the revealing dress, YooA took a deep breath and made her way back out to the stage, swaying her hips with a whole lot of confidence. Her crew had her back, so what could possibly go wrong?
YooA strolled through the lavish corridors of the mansion, guided by her entourage, until they reached a pair of grand double doors. With a graceful entrance, she stepped through, finding herself on a luxurious rooftop terrace, the night breeze teasing her exposed skin.
In the center of the open space, a group of masked men were chilling, their fancy outfits slightly rumpled. A fox, a rabbit, an owl, a bear, and a snake - each rocking an intricate animal mask that concealed their true identities. They lounged around an oval table, drinks, snacks, and desserts spread out before them.
As the staff who led her there bowed and exited, the door clicking shut behind her, the masked men rose to their feet, their voices charged with excitement.
"Welcome, welcome, Miss YooA!" purred the guy in the fox mask, stepping forward. "Come, have a seat with us." He motioned to the plush couch at the center of their circle.
The others chimed in, introducing themselves with nicknames based on their masks. "I'm Mr. Fox," the first dude announced, "and these fellas here are Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Owl, Mr. Bear, and Mr. Snake."
A shiver danced down YooA's spine as they guided her towards the couch, their predatory gazes devouring her with every glance. Something about this whole setup felt off, but she pushed aside her growing unease.
Putting on her best smile, she settled onto the couch amidst the masked men, acutely aware of how her short, curve-hugging dress captured most of their attention. "Pleasure to meet you all," she replied, silently praying that this "special performance" would go off without a hitch.
YooA mustered a coy smile as she settled into the plush couch, encircled by the masked men. "I'm here to put on a show for you tonight," she said, trying to exude confidence. "I hope you'll enjoy what I've got in store."
Mr. Snake, his eyes gleaming behind the reptilian mask, leaned in and poured her a glass of luscious, red wine. "Just relax, Miss YooA," he rumbled in a smooth, velvety voice. "We already take pleasure in your company.
Mr. Bear, a towering figure in his furry disguise, cleared his throat. "So, Miss YooA, how's the idol life treating you? Any thrilling plans on the horizon?" He extended a plate of mouthwatering indulgent truffles.
YooA accepted the wine and the delectable treats, doing her best to appear at ease as the men engaged her in polite small talk. She knew her mission was to please them, so she played along with their questions and feigned interest.
The men continued to ply her with drinks and appetizers, their masked gazes never straying from her figure. YooA felt their hungry eyes roaming over her exposed skin, and she fought the urge to squirm away. No matter what, she had to keep them satisfied.
As the conversation and laughter carried on, YooA felt her body growing warm, and her head started to spin. But she kept up her practiced smile, determined not to let anything ruin this golden opportunity the CEO had given her.
Unbeknownst to the young idol, the men had been discreetly spiking her drinks and snacks with drugs. They exchanged knowing glances as the substances started to take effect, allowing them to shed their polite masks.
Mr. Snake got up from his seat, moving behind the couch where YooA was seated. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders, sending a shiver through her drugged-out body. "Miss YooA, my dear, I hear you've been looking for some... sponsorship opportunities," he purred, his voice oozing with false concern.
YooA's face lit up at his words. “Oh, yes! The CEO said this could be my chance if I do well,” she blurted and leaned back into his touch a little bit, totally unaware of the predatory glimmer in Mr. Snake's eyes.
The other guys snickered, shifting in their seats, their pants getting uncomfortably tight as they ogled YooA's defenseless form. The time had finally come – they were going to make sure this greedy idol got way more than she bargained for.
Mr. Snake leaned in close, his breath tickling YooA's ear. "My dear, we're so pleased to hear of your eagerness to perform for us tonight," he purred, his grip tightening on her shoulders. "But you see, your performance will be... a bit different than what you had in mind."
YooA's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? I'm ready to give it my all for you all." She moved to stand, but Mr. Snake suddenly pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her back onto the couch.
"Ah, ah, ah," he chuckled darkly. "You misunderstand. We want you to become our doll tonight - to do with as we please." Before YooA could even react, two of the other masked men moved in, roughly grabbing hold of her arms.
The third man, Mr. Bear, popped open a full bottle of wine. "First things first, let's get you nice and wet, hmm?" he growled, shoving the bottle towards YooA's face.
Mr. Snake held her head in place as the man forced the bottle's neck between her lips, tilting it to pour the sweet, intoxicating liquid down her throat. YooA choked and sputtered, but the men showed no mercy, determined to break her down and make her their compliant plaything.
YooA's eyes went wide with panic as the pungent wine was forced down her throat. She choked harder but Mr. Snake's iron grip on her head kept her in place. The liquid burned as it went down, and she could feel it sloshing in her stomach, making her head spin even more.
Mr. Fox, who held her other arm, suddenly gripped her neck tightly, cutting off her ability to cough or expel the wine. "Drink it all, you greedy slut," he hissed. "We want you nice and sweet for what's to come."
YooA whimpered helplessly, the wine spilling from the corners of her mouth and down her chin, drenching the front of her already-revealing dress. On her other side, Mr. Owl began roughly groping her thigh, spreading her legs apart.
"Look at those pretty little panties," he cooed, his fingers hooking into the lace waistband. "This is going to be fun."
YooA tried to struggle, to beg for them to stop, but the men's grips and the drugs coursing through her veins left her utterly powerless. All she could do was pray that this nightmare would end soon.
As the bottle drained, nearly half the wine now coating YooA's face and dress, Mr. Bear finally pulled it from her mouth. YooA coughed, gasping desperately for air.
"W-What... What are you doing!?" she croaked, eyes wide with fear and confusion.
Mr. Rabbit chuckled. "Why, giving you the sponsorship opportunity of a lifetime, my dear." He reached down, grasping her foot and lifting it off the ground. "Just be a good little doll and behave for us."
With a swift motion, he removed her high heel, exposing her toned, glistening leg. Mr. Bear grinned, pouring the remainder of the wine down her smooth flesh.
"Look at these gorgeous legs," Mr. Bear grinned as he poured the remaining wine down YooA's leg, the liquid trailing from her toes up to her trembling thigh. "Look at this, fellas, the perfect canvas for us to play on."
Next to him, Mr. Owl suddenly yanked up the hem of YooA's dress, further exposing her lacy panties. The idol let out a strangled scream, but the men only laughed.
"Aw, don't be shy, sweetheart," Mr. Bear crooned, pausing to lightly trace the bottle's rim along her inner thigh. "We're just getting started."
On YooA's leg, Mr. Rabbit unzipped his trousers, pulling out his hard, throbbing cock. "Mmm, feels good to be free," he groaned, rubbing the underside against the sole of her wine-dampened foot.
YooA whimpered, her body trembling as the men's depraved touches sent waves of revulsion through her.
YooA cried out in terror as Mr. Bear slowly traced the bottle's rim along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, inching ever closer to her covered sex. "Please, stop! I'll behave, I promise, just don't hurt me!" she pleaded.
Mr. Bear chuckled. "We aren't going to hurt you. We're going to make you feel so good."
With that, Mr. Owl yanked her leg wider, while on her other side Mr. Rabbit continued rubbing his throbbing cock against her wine-dampened foot.
From behind the sofa, Mr. Fox suddenly wrapped his arm around YooA's neck, squeezing her perky breasts through the clingy fabric of her dress. "That's it, struggle for us, little doll.”.
YooA whimpered as Mr. Bear's free hand moved to the hem of her panties, slowly pulling them aside to expose her slick pink pussy. With agonizing slowness, he pressed the bottle's neck against her sensitive flesh, gradually pushing it past her delicate folds.
“So tight and wet for us already," the burly man bellowed. "This is going to be fun."
Despite her desperate pleas, YooA felt the unyielding glass of the wine bottle slowly breaching her tight entrance. Inch by inch, the thick, rigid neck disappeared into her pussy, delicate folds clinging to like rubber.
A shameful deep moan escaped the idol’s lips as waves of unwanted burning pleasure began to wash over her. Disgusted with her body's betrayal, she realized these guys must have drugged her with some kind of aphrodisiac drug. She thrashed her head back and forth, but the intensely pleasurable sensations only seemed to amplify.
"No, no, it's too deep!" she cried out, fixing a pleading, tear-filled gaze on Mr. Bear. "Please, take it out!"
But the burly man simply grinned, his piggish eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as he ignored her cries. Gripping the base of the bottle, he began to slowly, mercilessly thrust it in and out of her wet pussy.
“Look at that," his voice thick with lust. "Our little doll is enjoying herself more than she wants to admit."
YooA let out a wretched sob, her hips involuntarily rocking against the relentless intrusion. She was powerless to stop the rising tide of illicit, drug-fueled arousal, her treacherous body betraying her even as her mind reeled in utter disgust.
YooA's back arched sharply, her toes curling as the crushing tide of shameful pleasure rolled through her. She could feel a tight, insistent knot building deep within her core, slowly unraveling and flowing downwards towards her aching core.
The wine bottle sloshed and squelched as Mr. Bear continued his relentless, punishing thrusts, the thick glass stretching and filling her in ways she had never imagined. Beside her, Mr. Rabbit groaned in ecstasy, his hips bucking as he rubbed his throbbing cock against the sole of her foot.
"Ungh, fuck... so good," the masked man rasped, his voice dripping with lust. "I'm gonna cum all over your pretty little toes, slut..."
YooA sobbed bitterly, her body betraying her as the sensations built to an unbearable crescendo. She tried to resist, to hold back the rising wave of her own impending orgasm, but it was a futile battle. When Mr. Owl suddenly rolled her swollen, sensitive clit with his thumb, her dam burst.
"Aaahh! Noooo..." she wailed, her voice cracking as her entire body convulsed. Waves of shattering, drug-fueled ecstasy crashed over her, her pussy fluttering wildly around the unyielding bottle. "It's too much... Ooohh, God, it feels so good...!"
The men erupted in raucous laughter, their cruel triumph echoing across the open rooftop as they reveled in YooA's complete and utter surrender.
Still in a dazed, drug-hazed state, YooA felt the wine bottle abruptly pulled from her sensitive pussy with a ‘pop’. Before she could react, Mr. Bear roughly seized a handful of her hair, yanking her forward and down onto her knees in front of the couch.
The other masked men had already freed their throbbing, rigid cocks, lining up before the helpless idol. Mr. Rabbit, who had already been on the edge, shoved his shaft straight into YooA's open, gasping mouth.
"Ungh, fuck yeah!" he groaned, bucking his hips to bury himself deep in her throat.
YooA gagged and choked around his intrusion, her makeup streaming down her face as he ruthlessly face-fucked her. On either side, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl grabbed her hands, guiding them to wrap around their own straining cocks.
"That's it, jerk us off, baby," Mr. Fox snarled, his hips jerking as she stroked him. "Show us what those pretty hands can do."
YooA moaned in despair, her entire being flooded with shame at her helplessness but her treacherous drugged body craved the overwhelming sensations, and she found herself involuntarily pleasuring the depraved men surrounding her.
Mr. Rabbit let out a hoarse roar as his climax overtook him, his hips stuttering as he unloaded a thick torrent of cum directly down YooA's throat. The stunned idol gagged and choked, but the ecstatic man held her head in place, forcing her to swallow every last drop.
"You filthy slut, drink it all down!" he ordered, finally pulling his cockfree with a wet 'pop.'
Beside her, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl let out twin groans, their faces contorting in bliss as they coated YooA's delicate features with their pent-up release. Thick ropes of pearly white cum splattered across her flushed cheeks, dripping down her chin and nose.
Despite her revulsion, YooA found herself oddly aroused. The aphrodisiac still coursing through her veins had her body aching to be used and defiled. Almost without thinking, she slowly licked her lips, desperately trying to lap up the men's fresh seed.
“You love the taste, don't you?" Mr. Owl chuckled, tracing a finger through the cum on her cheek and pushing it into her eager mouth. "What a depraved whore you are."
YooA moaned around his digit, sucking it clean as her hazy gaze silently begged for more of their degrading attention.
"Well now, it seems our doll is ready for the main event," Mr. Snake who had been chilling since earlier rose from the couch. With a wave of his hand, the others seized YooA, hoisting her up onto the table at the center of the group.
The cool polished surface kissed her bare skin as the men spread her legs in a wide, lewd stance. YooA whimpered, fresh tears stinging her eyes as she took in the sight of the men lining up before her, their thick cocks jutting out in unabashed lust.
Mr. Bear stepped up first, his massive member twitching in anticipation. Grabbing YooA's thighs, he leaned in until the swollen head of his cock brushed against her sopping entrance.
"Look at how desperate your pussy is," dragging his length through her slick folds before abruptly plunging himself fully inside with one savage thrust.
YooA's mouth fell open in a silent scream of mingled pain and illicit pleasure. Mr. Bear set a rapid pace, his huge cock filling and stretching her so completely.
Meanwhile, Mr. Rabbit clambered up onto the table, straddling YooA's face. "Open up, slut," he commanded, smearing the glistening head of his cock across her gasping lips.
With no other choice, YooA obeyed, her throat constricting as Rabbit fed his thick length into her mouth. Above her, the musty scent of his crotch flooded her senses, making her head spin.
The sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and the men's grunts of exertion filled the air as YooA was ruthlessly pounded from both ends. A shamed part of her reveled in being used as their depraved cock sleeve.
Suddenly, Mr. Bear threw back his head, letting loose a feral roar. His cock swelled within YooA's walls, giving her womb a thick, scalding creampie as he reached his rapturous peak.
Even as his climax tapered off, he continued to grind into the battered idol, until at last he pulled free with an obscene popping sound.
"Who's next for her greedy tight holes?" the hulking man grinned, patting YooA's cum-soaked pussy.
Without waiting for an answer, Mr. Snake took Mr. Bear's place, immediately pounding her deep and hard.
"Mmmpphh!!" YooA protested, her words dissolving into a gargled whimper as Mr. Rabbit's thick length invaded her throat. He seized a fistful of her hair, using it as a handle to roughly fuck her face.
Each punishing thrust drove his cock deeper, the bulbous head visibly distending the tender column of YooA's neck. She gagged and choked around the intrusion, drool and pre-cum leaking from the corners of her stretched lips.
"Oh fuck yeah," Rabbit groaned, his tempo increasing to a brutal, piston-like rhythm. On either side, Mr. Owl and Mr. Fox seized YooA's hands, guiding her fingers around their stiffening shafts.
The lewd sound of Rabbit's sac slapping against YooA's chin mingled with the wet squelches of Mr. Snake's hips smacking into her womb. Tears streamed from the idol's eyes as she struggled for air between Rabbit's thrusts.
Each time Mr. Rabbit bottomed out, his cock buried to the root, a faint bulge could be seen traveling up the taut flesh of YooA's abdomen. Her abused folds were a mess of stretched and frayed petals, soaked in a mixture of her feminine juices and the copious seed pumped into her by the men.
Yet through the pain and degradation, a part of YooA's traitorous body still craved sensation. Her raw, aching clit throbbed hotly, as if begging for attention.
Mr. Snake relished the sight of YooA's tormented, cock-stuffed face, gleefully adding to her violation. As he savagely pummeled her spasming cunt, he reached down with his free hand, locating her swollen, pulsing pearl.
He roughly pinched the sensitive bud between his fingers. "You may hate what we're doing, but your slut of a body loves being used as a fucktoy!"
YooA's muffled wails of protest dissolved into a strangled cry of masochistic ecstasy as Mr. Snake rolled and tugged at her clit in time with his ferocious thrusts. Her slick canal clenched and fluttered wantonly around his invading cock.
On her face, Mr. Rabbit redoubled his brutal face-fucking, slamming his entire length down her throat again and again. YooA's eyes rolled back, her petite frame wracked with convulsions as her first explosive orgasm crashed over her.
Cunt juices gushed from her abused hole, drenching Mr. Snake's pistoning cock and puddling on the table beneath her. The sensations were so intense, so all-consuming that YooA nearly blacked out from the pleasure.
Her scream of release was muffled by Rabbit's cock, but it only seemed to spur the men on further. Mr. Owl and Mr. Fox rapidly stroked their cocks with YooA's limp hands, their shafts now achingly hard and ready to ravage her well-used cunt next.
As soon as Mr. Snake pulled free, they eagerly lined up on either side of the quivering idol's hips, their cockheads smearing through the mess of her femcum and Mr. Snake’s still-oozing seed.
Mr. Rabbit unleashed a satisfied scream, yanking YooA's hair with force as his climax arrived. His cock swelled and pulsed, blasting thick ropes of hot jism straight down the poor idol's rawly abused throat.
YooA squirmed and thrashed, nearly choking on the copious load flooding her mouth and nasal passages before Rabbit finally relented, pulling free. The stunned woman collapsed back onto the table, gasping as Rabbit's seed spilled from her gaping lips.
Wasting no time, Mr. Fox immediately seized his opportunity. He clambered up onto the table, not even giving YooA a chance to catch her breath before shoving his rigid length past her gasping lips.
"Gggkkk!" she gurgled, frantically pushing against his thighs as his cock burrowed into her throat.
Mr. Fox grinned wickedly, basking in the delicious sight and sensation of her struggles. Meanwhile, Mr. Owl stepped between YooA's trembling legs. Leaning forward, he rammed his cock to the base inside her abused, cum-drenched cunt.
YooA bucked and wailed around Fox's invading cock, her body quaking with unwanted ecstasy.
Not satisfied with her muffled protests, Mr. Owl snatched YooA's wrists, using her arms as levers to drive deeper into her velvet sheath on each thrust. The table beneath them shook and creaked from the pressure.
Mr. Fox matched Owl's brutal rhythm, jackhammering his rigid length into YooA's throat while his hands closed around her heaving breasts. With a few sharp tugs, the flimsy fabric of her dress gave way, exposing her firm tits.
Above her, Mr. Owl leered down, savoring the sight of their helpless little doll getting ruthlessly spit-roasted. There was no tenderness in their touches, only savage hunger being slaked by their violation of the degraded idol.
On the sidelines, Mr. Snake, Mr. Bear, and Mr. Rabbit looked on with smug joy, leisurely drinking beers and stroking their thickening cocks as they prepared for another round with YooA's battered form.
"Fuck, look at that slut getting the dicking she deserves," Mr. Snake sneered, giving his cock a few hard strokes. "These idols act so prim and innocent on stage, but they're all just cockcraving cumdumps underneath."
"This cheap piece of pussy won't even remember her own name by the time we're done with her," Mr. Bear grinned, downing another gulp of wine.
In the center of their lascivious attentions, YooA could only whimper and twitch as Mr. Owl bottomed out, giving one final thrust to bury his twitching cock as deep as it would go. With a growl, he emptied his load into her convulsing cunt.
The stunning idol's back arched, her glazed eyes rolling back as the hot torrent of cum flooding her already-stuffed womb triggered an intense climax. Her slender thighs trembled uncontrollably, her hands weakly clutching at the table beneath her.
At the same time, Mr. Fox grunted, slamming his balls on her nose and letting his own thick ropes of cum plaster YooA's tongue and throat. Her body heaving with sobs, she had no choice but to swallow the acrid offering, thick strands leaking from the corners of her mouth.
Once they'd drained the last spurts from their cocks, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl pulled out, chuckling at the wrecked state they'd left the once proud idol in. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her smooth skin glazed with sweat. Both holes leaked a steady trickle of their combined spend.
Yet as she lay there, mewling and twitching from the overstimulation, her lust-addled body betrayed her anew as the men's hungry gazes roved over her trembling form. Their arousal was clear in the renewed stiffness of their cocks, YooA's degradation only stoking the fires of their insatiable debauchery.
The savage men weren't even close to satiating their debased hunger for YooA's broken body. With rough hands, they hauled her up from the table, dragging the limp idol over to the nearby sofa.
She offered no resistance, too overwhelmed by the sickening mixture of humiliation and unwanted ecstasy pulsing through her veins. Leering smiles creased their lust-twisted features as they shoved YooA face-down over the sofa's arm, leaving her ass lewdly presented in the air.
"Stay just like that, you worthless fuckpig," Mr. Fox barked, sinking one foot atop the back of YooA's head to grind her pretty face into the cushions.
Mr. Bear and Mr. Rabbit seized her wrists, wrenching her slender arms straight back in a brutal parody of the spreadeagle position. Helpless, YooA jerked as the remnants of her tattered dress were ripped away, leaving her nude body completely on display.
SMACK! SMACK!
Stinging slaps blossomed color across her already-reddened ass cheeks as one of the men reared back to spank and spread her trembling rump. YooA cried out, her voice muffled against the sofa, her muscles tensing.
"Better keep her steady, boys," Mr. Snake chuckled, dribbling a line of thick lube down the crease bisecting YooA's ass toward her tight, puckered sphincter. "This little anal slut's gonna be thrashing like a bronco once I get my cock up that tight back door."
With an anticipatory grin, he gave his achingly stiff cock a few more lube-slick strokes before lining the bulbous head up against YooA's rear entrance. Without any further preamble, he gripped her hips and slowly leaned his weight forward, steadily breaching and widening her for the harsh sodomy to come.
"Hhnngghh!!" The strangled cry was torn from YooA's lips, muffled against the couch cushions beneath her face.
Mr. Snake's thick cock stretched her virgin sphincter unbearably wide, each agonizing inch spearing deeper into her unutilized back passage. She squirmed and thrashed against the men's restraining grips, the sinister laughs surrounding her only driving home her utter helplessness.
"Aww, what's the matter, slut?" sneered Mr. Rabbit from where he pinned one of YooA's arms. "I thought you idol whores were used to taking it up the ass from your sugar daddies."
"She's so goddamn tight!" grunted Snake through gritted teeth as he bottomed out, his pelvis smacking loudly against YooA's quivering asscheeks. "Fuck, this needy tight asshole is just begging to be ruined!"
He pulled back slightly, savoring the feverish clench of her rubbery ring before slamming his hips forward again, jackhammering YooA's unprepared rear with frenzied rabbit thrusts.
Each vicious stroke drew a pained weeping, her face contorting in a rictus of torment that only seemed to inflame the men's sadistic urges further.
"Look at this bitch's face!" Bear cackled, wrenching YooA's neck back by the hair to expose her agonized expression to their lewd gazes. "She looks like she might actually cry!"
"Then give the whore something to really sob about," Fox growled, forcing his spit-slick cock past YooA's swollen, parted lips to gag her howls of distress once more.
Her lashes fluttered and mascara streamed from the corners of her eyes, decorating her rouged cheeks with blackened rivulets of overflowing tears. Yet there was no mercy to be found in Snake's vicious rutting, nor any escape from the renewed degradation being forced upon her by Fox's fat dick pistoning in and out of her throat.
YooA's entire body kept quivering, her tortured hole spasming around Mr. Snake's relentlessly pistoning cock until he slammed himself fully in. Ropes of fresh thick cum erupted from his twitching cock, flooding her ruined bowels with degrading spurts.
"Hnngghh!!" Snake groaned, his fingertips digging deep into the flesh of YooA's hips as he emptied his harrowing load.
At the same time, Mr. Fox grinned and seized her disheveled brown hair in his fist before burying himself to the root. Another debased grunt, then the battered idol's mouth was filled with his rank, salty spend.
"Gkkhkk!!" she choked and gurgled, stringy ropes of Fox's ejaculate splattering over her tongue and cheeks until his orgasm subsided. She swallowed forcefully, her features glazed with a sheen of perspiration and streaked with mascara-stained tears.
Mr. Snake finally pulled free with a slick pop, leaving YooA's violated pucker gaping, the pearly ring stretched and swollen around the lewd cream pie slowly leaking from her abused chute.
No longer needing to keep her steady, Bear and Rabbit released her arms, allowing her body to go limp. But there was no respite for the broken woman.
"Up you go, fuckdoll," Mr. Bear growled, hauling YooA up by her waist and throwing her shuddering form down atop the couch once more, on all fours. He wasted no time in mounting behind her, his thick cock spearing into her freshly-reamed asshole with one brutal thrust.
"AAAIIIEEE!!" The shriek tore from YooA's raw throat as Mr. Bear hammered her with savage abandon, his palm cracking off her ass cheeks. Yet it was quickly muffled as Mr. Owl seized her by the hair, wrenching her face back to glare into his smirking visage.
"You want the juicy sponsorships, don't you slut?" he sneered, slapping his cock across her gasping lips. "Let's hear you fucking beg for them then.”
YooA's eyes rolled back, nearly catatonic from the degradation and mind-shattering sensations racking her abused form. But coherent words still managed to gurgle past her drool-slicked lips between Mr. Owl's facefucking strokes.
"P...Please... give me... your... sponsorsh-shipsss, s-sirs!" she whimpered subserviently between gags. "I'll d-do... anything!"
Mr. Rabbit snickered, palming his rock-hard cock as he dropped down onto the couch beneath YooA's swaying hips, aligning his cock beneath her cum-dribbling pussy.
"Like taking my thick cock into this loose, fucked-out hole, bitch?" he taunted, punctuating each crude word with a hard slap of his shaft across her splayed pussy lips. "Beg me for my fucking cum, you desperate cumslut!"
"P-Please... gkkkhh!!" YooA's desperate plea was immediately cut off as Mr. Owl shoved his thick cock between her lips, using her momentary vocalization as an excuse to gag her airway with his girth.
Her eyes bulged, spit and drool streaming down her chin as he face-fucked her roughly. Yet still she persisted, her words garbled and barely intelligible around the vicious throat-strokes.
"I... n-need... hnrrghh... your cummm!! G-give it... gkk... to meee!!"
Beneath her, Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Bear snapped with twisted amusement at her degrading submission. In one harsh thrust, Rabbit buried his entire cock inside YooA's sloppy, cum-drenched cunt, her raw flesh offering barely any resistance.
At the same instant, Bear doubled down on ravaging her thoroughly ruined asshole, his hips smacking loudly against her reddened cheeks on each stroke. The dual intrusions stretched YooA's petite frame cruelly taut, impaled by rampant cocks brutally spitting her worn holes.
"Keep begging, bitch!" Mr. Rabbit jeered, his heavy sac swinging to slap against YooA's swollen outer lips. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to arc her spine even more severely.
The new angle allowed him to jackhammer up into her abused quim with merciless force, his cock stretching her tender canal as it sought ever deeper purchase with each shaprp pounding.
Mr. Bear matched his counterpart's ferocious rhythm, battering YooA's defenseless ass just as viciously as his pelvis audibly slap against her ass cheeks. Their girthy cocks pummeled in tandem, turning the sobbing woman into a thoroughly defiled cock-sleeve uselessly whimpering around Mr. Owl's spit-soaked dick.
"Sh-Shponshorsss... hunghhh... pleashshhh... GHHKK!!" YooA gurgled and drooled around Owl's skull-fucking thrusts, barely able to form coherent words. Yet perversely, with each desperate utterance, the men's pace only quickened, driving her body into a quivering frenzy.
YooA's eyes rolled back, her pummeled throat spasming around Mr. Owl's cock as he unleashed his virulent load. Thick, acrid cords of cum blasted over her lolling tongue, the volume so excessive she could do little but let it slather over her lips and stream down her chin
“The fuck are you doing?! Swallow it all.” Mr. Owl shouted angrily, his fingers digging into YooA's scalp as he pumped her mouth full of his waste.
Despite his vicious demand, the poor woman was utterly choked, simply allowing the foul load to drip and dribble from her stretched lips as her beaten frame was wracked with involuntary convulsions.
"Grrrkkk... unnghh... more... need... moreeee..." she rasped mindlessly around the soupy mess clogging her throat, her cunt and ass somehow still hungrily milking for more seed deep inside.
And her degraded wish was soon granted, as Mr. Rabbit felt his climax nearing its peak between the vice-like clenches of her pussy.
"Fuck, this needy tight pussy is gonna wring the soul outta my cock!" He piston-slamming into the sloppy mess of YooA's ravaged sex.
Each thrust drove a fresh gout of the previous loads' cum out in a frothy, splattery spray, only to slurp back inside with the next invading slide. Mr. Rabbit could feel the swollen flesh of her over-abused walls still desperately rippling around him, foolishly craving his defiling seed.
"Aiiieeee!! Oh god! G-gonna get... knocked up... by t-these awfulll cockksss!!" YooA shrieked with delirium, her face a mess of smeared make-up and sticky ejaculate hanging in weeping gobs from her chin.
Without warning, Mr. Rabbit erupted, blasting scalding strings of cum directly against her cervix. At nearly the same instant, Mr. Bear arched his back with a roar of release, painting the woman's rectum an equal shade of obscene alabaster.
YooA screamed and thrashed through her brutal dual creampie, her distended lower abdomen rippling visibly as they used her like a mere cum receptacle.
As Mr. Bear and Mr. Rabbit withdrew their cocks from YooA's filled holes with wet pops, allowing thick runnels of their acrid cream to immediately gush from her gaping, ruined openings to the floor.
Mr. Rabbit huffed,"Get this worthless sow off the couch," shoving YooA's cum-glazed form with his knee until she tumbled limply to the carpet.
The woman idol barely move, her muscles twitching uselessly as her broken mind swam in a haze of degradation and bliss. But there was no pause to be had.
In an instant Mr. Snake was on her, seizing YooA's matted hair in his fist, using it to haul her body up until she was trembling on boneless legs, shoulders hunched and torso leaning shakily against the couch.
With a single thrust, Snake slammed his thick cock fully into her thoroughly gaped asshole once more.
“Oughhh!!" YooA shrieked, the harsh re-entry into her sensitive bowels like a lightning bolt of ecstasy-tinged pain. But her cry was cut off as Mr. Fox stepped around in front of her, gripping her jaw in his hands.
"You love getting fucked like a cheap whore now, don't you bitch?" Fox asked with cruel amusement and slapped YooA's flushed cheek, leaving an angry red welt. "Shit, you're leaking like a faucet. I bet this loose pussy needs another big load.”
Choking her briefly until stars burst in YooA's vision, Mr. Fox then grasped the underside of her thighs and hoisted her legs apart, easily sliding his rock-hard cock into the frothy, cum-drenched mess of her cunt.
"Mmfff... yessshh... fffuckkk... mooore... cummm..." the woman slurred drunkenly, half-delirious from the shattering violation. Her body was utterly suspended between Mr. Snake and Mr. Fox's rutting motions, yanked back-and-forth while ruthlessly bounced on their piercing cocks.
The sounds of their flesh smacking together mingled with YooA's ecstasy-pained moans and the men's contemptuous laughter in a symphony of pure debasement. And not a single shred of her dignity remained.
The two animals sandwiched YooA between them, showing zero mercy as they brutally used her body as a human fuck-doll. Their thrusts jackhammered her stretched figure in opposite directions, turning her into a ragdoll pinned on their dueling cocks.
"Ghhkkk!! Too... b-big!! Hurtsss!! So good!!" The sobbing idol gurgled, her skull lolling as Mr. Snake's fat girth pummeled the deepest confines of her bowels with harsh strokes that seemed to split her in two.
Her sphincter was a wide, gaping circle of swollen flesh uselessly fluttering around the invasion stretching it unnaturally agape.
His pelvis smacked loudly against YooA's cherry-red asscheeks, adding more angry welts and discoloration to the map of her abject suffering. Perversely, the crescendos of searing pain wracking her backside were punctuated by shudders of ecstasy as her ass was so ruthlessly plowed.
Mr. Fox matched his friend’s depraved rhythm, driving upwards to impale YooA on his cock with just as much uncaring force. Her hammered pussy has become a sloppy, cum-drenched mess of overstuffed folds, the juices of her violations squelching audibly as Fox rutted into her.
"Yeah, you hear how fucking wet this whore's cunt is?" Mr. Fox emphasized his vulgarity with a series of sharp slaps across YooA's jiggling boobs. "She's practically pissing femcum at the thought of getting pumped full of more jizz!”
Beneath them, a lurid puddle of their combined fluid was slowly spreading, expelled from YooA's reddened, distended holes with each cruel penetration.
"Mmmnn... c-cummm... leaking outtbb... stopphhh!!" she pleaded through the haze of delirious elation, only to be silenced as Mr. Snake seized a fistful of her hair and wrenched her neck back painfully. The brute force only allowed him to plunge with even more vicious depth.
"Grrnnghhh... gonna coreload this cockwhore proper!" Mr. Snake hissed, sweat beading his brow while the thick veins along his turgid cock throbbed visibly with each inhumanly powerful stroke. "Right up that slutty fucking babyhole!”
YooA's nails dug deep crescents into the straining muscles of Mr. Fox's shoulders as the dual pistoning drove her over the edge. She wailed like a woman possessed, thrown mercilessly into the throes of a shattering climax that shook her very core.
"Harder... h-harder! I'm... I'MMMMGGHHNNNFFFF!!" The words dissolved into a bestial cry that rang through the room, her arched spine bending near its breaking point as her high peaked.
Both her holes clenched with convulsive, rippling spasms around the sadistic cocks defiling her - clenched as if her very life depended on milking them for their fresh, degrading seed.
And the two men were all too happy to oblige, sneering with twisted satisfaction as they felt her holes tighten around them. Mr. Snake wrapped his bulging arms crushingly tight around YooA's midriff, holding her helplessly impaled.
Mr. Fox, meanwhile, dug his claws deep into the soft flesh beneath YooA's quivering thighs, lifting and spreading her stiffened lower body wide as he prepared to unload his batter as deep as it would go.
"Take the fucking breeding you wanted so bad, you sloppy whore!" Me. Fox spat, arching his back as he pulled the shrieking woman down atop him with one conclusive, punishing thrust.
At the same time, Mr. Snake unleashed a throaty groan of delight, burying his cock fully inside YooA's bowels before flooding them with new layers of warm cum. His load churned and sloshed inside her heaving abdomen as he emptied his heavy balls.
The violated idol's eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible in her skull. Drool and mascara-tinted streaks of ejaculate trailed down her gaping maw in an unsightly mess as she was overwhelmed one final time, her wits shattered beyond repair.
When at last they'd drained their final spurts into her well-used, cum-stuffed form, the men simply let go, letting YooA collapse to the couch in a boneless, twitching heap. Thick runnels of their spend immediately began dribbling from her ruined, gaping holes to pool beneath her limp thighs.
"Damn, I think we finally broke this celebrity slut properly," laughed Mr. Bear with satisfaction, reaching down to shove the sticky strands of cum oozing from YooA's entrance with his fingertips and rubbing her swollen red clit with it.
"I could go for another round though - who wants sloppy thirds on this greedy broken cocksleeve?" Asked Mr. Owl, excited.
"Shit, I think we're well past sloppy thirds at this point," Mr. Rabbit chuckled, eyeing YooA's glistening form with a mixture of smug satisfaction and lingering lust. "That fucktoy's pretty much been run through the entire gangbang gauntlet."
He sighed heavily, already tucking himself back into his trousers with deft fingers. "As much as I'd kill to go another few rounds on that perfectly trained idol pussy, I've got to dip out. Got an overseas deal going down tonight that needs my attention."
A series of agreement followed from Mr. Snake and Mr. Fox as they too began redressing, putting on their suits and slacks with casual nonchalance. As enticing as the thought of further violating their celebrity cumdump was, business matters ultimately took priority.
"Yeah, that Taiwanese shit isn't gonna take care of itself," Mr. Snake grunted, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair. "Plus, the night's still young - no reason we can't find some fresh fuckmeat once we're done working."
The three men shared a round of dark, rumbling laughter at the thought, utterly unmoved by YooA's unconscious, abused, and decidedly well-used state now adorning the soiled sofa cushions.
With a few parting leers and crude gestures, each bent down to unceremoniously snap a few close-up photos of her swollen holes still dribbling their copious loads, as well as her debauched features.
Mr. Snake smirked as he tucked his phone away. "Don't forget to end the recording properly once you two are done, and send us copies," he reminded Mr. Bear and Mr. Owl, the only ones remaining behind. "I want crispy 4K footage of tonight's A-List celebrity whore.”
Bear and Owl both smirked in response, their attention turning toward the discreetly-mounted video camera in the corner of the opulent penthouse suite.
They'd been so caught up in the raucous, heated depravity, the fact that every lecherous act had been meticulously captured for their private collections had momentarily slipped their minds.
With a conspiratorial nod, Bear grabbed YooA's limp wrist, slowly guiding her arm up until her swaying fingertips were aimed directly at the camera lens like the world's most sordid puppet display.
Bear grinned at Owl, his grip tightening around YooA's wrist to make her fingers waggle towards the camera.
The lens captured every lurid detail of her totally degraded state - from the disheveled chestnut tresses matted with sweat and cum, to the utter violence enacted upon her once-pristine holes now gaping and seeded full to brimming.
"This little whore isn't going to wake up for a long while after the utter fucking we gave her," Mr. Bear mused, his free hand pawing at YooA's boobs, streaked with inflamed welt marks and rapidly-blooming bruises.
"Just think when she finally comes to, she will have scored that coveted sponsorship deal she was begging for. But at what cost? This is gonna be hilarious.” Mr. Owl laughed loudly, wrenching YooA's head upright by her hair so the camera could take in her euphoric yet harrowed expression.
"Well, in her line of 'work', being an absolute fuckpig on the casting couch is basically a prerequisite," Mr. Owl sneered, giving YooA's tits a few harsh, stinging slaps to watch the flesh ripple.
The two men guffawed as if sharing some long-standing inside joke, all the while manipulating YooA's insensate puppet form to give the camera a final, unambiguous view between her legs.
"Well, I'd say our work here is done...for now," Mr. Bear punctuating that ambiguous remark by sliding two fingers into YooA's sloppy slit and stirring them in a spiral. The idol offered zero reaction, though a few fresh gouts of jism immediately trickled free from her overstuffed crevices.
"Atta girl. Keep dribbling out those sponsorship loads like a good cumdump," he cooed tauntingly, turning his twisted smile back towards the camera lens. "We'll make sure to give this little dickprincess the launchpad to true fame after putting her through a few more 'auditions' over the next few days and nights."
As the two men threw back their heads with harsh, victorious bouts of laughter, the recording feed flickered to an abrupt, unsettling black, leaving YooA's ultimate fate as a broken starlet a mystery to the outside world.
#kpop smut#male reader#kpop gg#girl group smut#kpop fanfic#non con smut#oh my girl yooa#yooa smut#oh my girl smut#oh my girl#commissioned work#kpop girls
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Love Story
Colette is an up and coming actor, Harry is an international popstar who fell in love with cinema. When the pair work on a rendition of Romeo and Juliet, their worlds collide as feelings develop.
CW: Brief mention of dying, Smut.
Word Count: 11,860
Colette stepped into her dressing room, a lavishly appointed space designed to echo the opulence of the Verona in which her film "Romeo and Juliet" was set. The walls were draped in deep burgundy velvet curtains, softening the room with a rich, warm texture that whispered of hidden secrets and dramatic declarations. Golden accents framed mirrors and furniture, reflecting the flickering light from several ornately carved silver candelabras positioned thoughtfully around the room.
As she entered, her eyes were drawn to the vanity, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship with an expansive mirror bordered by tiny bulbs that bathed the area in a gentle, flattering light. Upon the surface lay an array of cosmetics and brushes, each laid out with precision, their handles catching glints of light like miniature scepters waiting to bestow their magic upon her.
The air was filled with a subtle scent of roses and myrrh, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and invigorating, as if the very essence of romance and tragedy had been captured and dispersed through the room. A large window draped with heavy curtains looked out upon a secluded garden that boasted marble statues peeking through lush greenery—Juliet's own secret sanctuary.
Colette’s costume hung on a dress form; it was a stunning creation of silk and lace, the fabric dyed in shades of moonlight and adorned with delicate embroidery that mimicked the intricate patterns of an Italian tapestry. The bodice was fitted, designed to accentuate her figure while allowing for the dramatic movements required in her scenes.
Next to the dress stood a pair of custom-made shoes, their leather soft and supple, seeming almost alive, like they were molded from a piece of night itself. They were embellished with small pearls and crystals, which twinkled like stars against the shadowy backdrop.
On a small table beside her plush, velvet-covered chaise lounge lay her script, its pages worn from use yet handled with reverence. It was flanked by a quill and an inkpot—an affectation provided by the director to inspire connection to the era they were emulating—as well as a delicate teacup painted with scenes from Shakespeare’s works.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself amidst this feast for senses—a real-life canvas painted with details fit for royalty—Colette prepared mentally to step once again into Juliet's world: one where love defied reason and every corner held both beauty and sorrow. She sat at her vanity, poised to transform under the artful hands of her makeup artist, ready to breathe life into Shakespeare's timeless lover once more.
The door to her dressing room opened with a soft creak, heralding the arrival of Madame Laurette, the makeup artist whose skills transformed actresses into visions from another time. Clad in a smock splattered with the remnants of foundation and rouge from previous masterpieces, Madame Laurette carried an ancient-looking leather case, which she set down with a practiced grace next to Colette.
"Ah, my dear," Madame Laurette began, her voice a soothing melody, "today we paint the tragedy and triumph of young love upon your canvas." Her hands were deft as they opened the case, revealing rows upon rows of pots and brushes, pencils and palettes; tools of the trade laid out like a surgeon's instruments, each with a purpose to bring forth beauty from bareness.
With delicate fingers, Madame Laureette applied a light moisturizer to Colette's face, preparing the skin like a primed canvas. She then used a sponge to dab on foundation that matched Colette's complexion so perfectly it seemed as if it were but a whisper on her skin. As she worked, she spoke softly about the character of Juliet—her passion, her grace, her strength in the face of despair.
Next came the eyes—windows to Juliet's soul. Madame Laurette chose shades that reflected the hues of twilight; dusky purples and soft blues blended seamlessly to suggest a depth of emotion. The eyeliner was applied in a fine line, accentuating the shape of Colette's eyes, making them appear larger, more expressive. Lashes were curled and coated with mascara that made them flutter like the wings of a night moth.
Cheeks were next attended with a brush dusted in rose-pink blush that brought a gentle bloom to her porcelain skin, reminiscent of English roses in bloom. It was as if Juliet herself had paused in a garden, momentarily caught up in thoughts of her Romeo.
Lips were not forgotten—painted in a soft red that was bold yet not overwhelming—a color that whispered of promises and kissed by starlight. As Madame Laurette worked her magic, the transformation from actress to character was nearly complete.
Finally, Madame Laurette set everything with a light dusting of powder which seemed to pull forth an ethereal glow from within Colette herself. Standing back to admire her work, she nodded slightly as if granting approval to proceed with the act.
As Madame Laurette packed away her tools and bid her farewell with wishes of good luck, Colette took one last look at herself in the mirror. Now staring back was Juliet Capulet: tragic yet triumphant in her love—a young woman framed not only by curls dark as raven wings but also by an aura of timeless romance that would soon spill over onto the stage under countless watching stars.
Her movements were infused with an anticipatory grace that seemed woven from the very threads of the narratives she was set to embody. The costume assistant approached, a vision of focus and professionalism, carrying the garment that would complete the transformation: a dress that seemed spun from moonlight and gossamer dreams.
The dress itself was a masterpiece of historical accuracy blended with theatrical flair. Its fabric was a whisper-soft silk that flowed like water over Colette's form, pooling slightly at her feet in a shimmering cascade of sky-blue. Intricate embroidery adorned the bodice, featuring delicate vines and flowers meticulously stitched with silver thread, catching the light with every subtle movement and suggesting a lattice of morning dew. Sleeves of sheer chiffon draped elegantly from her shoulders, airy and almost translucent, giving her arms the appearance of being wrapped in wisps of cloud.
As she stepped into the dress, the assistant deftly laced up the back, pulling the strings tight enough to sculpt her waist without hindering breath—a crucial balance for any performer. The final touch was a delicate ribbon tied in a bow just below her collarbone, a nod to youthful innocence and burgeoning romance.
Once dressed, Colette floated towards the full-length mirror, her steps tentative yet poised as though she were both discovering and remembering Juliet’s haunted grace. Her reflection seemed to transcend time; here was Juliet not as mere fiction, but resurrected in flesh and blood and silk, her eyes alight with both excitement and a hint of sorrow for the tale she was to live anew.
Taking a deep breath that lifted her chest slightly against the soft confines of her dress, Colette turned away from her reflection—away from Juliet's temporary shelter—and made her way out of the dressing room. The corridor outside was lined with flickering candles encased in glass lanterns hanging from ornate metal stands, casting shadows that danced like shy phantoms on the walls.
As she walked, her dress whispered secrets only she could hear, each step a murmur of silk. Exiting the building, she stepped out into an expanse that felt less like part of a film set and more like stepping through a wrinkle in time into Verona itself. The set designers had outdone themselves; cobblestone streets wound beneath balconies overflowing with ivy and blooms. Lamps glowed softly along pathways and a distant fountain murmured in melodious tones.
Here under the vast expanse of an artificial twilight sky beginning to pin itself with stars, Colette paused at the center of an old square waiting for Harry's arrival. In this moment suspended between reality and fiction—where night air kissed her cheeks as sweetly as any lover might—she was neither Colette nor Juliet but something timeless; a whisper of love’s eternal reverie waiting to be awakened by Romeo’s pledge beneath soft-footed shadows.
Colette felt eborn into another age and another life—her heart beating rapidly with anticipation and empathy for her character’s imminent joys and sorrows. She moved towards the set where artificial stars awaited their nightly audience and real emotions would stir under painted skies.
Just as the anticipation in the air reached its peak, Harry emerged from the shadows, a figure pulled from the very pages of Shakespeare. His costume was a masterpiece of Elizabethan artistry—velvet doublet embroidered with intricate silver threads that caught the light with every subtle movement, making him shimmer like a star newly born into the night sky. His breeches were of a similar rich fabric, hugging his legs with a precision that spoke of many hours spent in the tailor’s care. Upon his feet were boots made of soft leather that whispered against the cobblestones as he moved.
His hair, usually untamed and wild, had been tamed into soft waves that framed his face, echoing the romantic heroes of old. Around his neck, a heavy chain with a cross pendant rested against his chest, gleaming softly in the lamplight. His eyes, when they met Colette's, sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy—the perfect echo of Romeo’s own youthful vibrance and passionate soul.
As Harry walked closer to where Colette stood, waiting in her character's eternal reverie, his presence seemed to draw the very essence of the night towards him. The distant murmur of the fountain seemed to harmonize with his every step, creating a melody that resonated with the quiet rustling of Colette’s gown. Each element of the scene—the glowing lamps along the pathways, the soft rustle of ivy against stone—seemed to lean towards him, as if nature itself was eager to hear the tale these two star-crossed lovers would enact.
The square they occupied breathed with an air of ancient romance; it was as though they had truly stepped back in time and were no longer actors on a set but living embodiments of their characters. The buildings surrounding them wore age like proud badges, their windows darkened save for the occasional flicker of candlelight that suggested life continuing unaware inside. Above them, the crescent moon cradled stars that had witnessed countless tales of love and tragedy.
Harry reached the center of the square, his boots clicking on the cobblestones with a rhythmic certainty. He stopped before Colette, who remained motionless, her gaze fixed upon him with an intensity that belied the serene expression on her face. Her costume—a flowing dress of midnight blue, embroidered with tiny silver threads—whispered tales of bygone elegance as it caught the breeze, fluttering lightly around her ankles.
Clearing his throat softly, Harry began to recite Romeo's lines with a tender fervor that seemed to pull at the very air around him. "But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." His voice rose and fell in perfect cadence, each word a brushstroke painting emotions across the canvas of the night.
As he spoke, an unexpected gust of wind stirred the leaves around them into a gentle dance, mirroring the turmoil brewing in Romeo's heart as he gazed upon his forbidden love. The scent of rose and old stone mingled together, casting a spell over the scene that was palpable. The director, hidden in the shadows beyond the set's makeshift lights, allowed himself a small smile at the authenticity of this moment—cinema magic in its purest form.
Colette responded in kind, her voice carrying back to Harry with equal parts longing and restraint. "O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" She stepped forward slightly, her hands clasped before her as if to steady her racing heart. Her eyes never left Harry's, and in them flickered the fire of Juliet's love—a burning, all-consuming flame that acknowledged neither reason nor consequence.
The crew around them had ceased all movement; even those seasoned in film felt themselves caught in the spellbinding performance unfolding before them. The prop master forgot his duties for a moment, lost in the authenticity of Colette's accent and the palpable connection between her and Harry.
Above them, clouds began to drift across the moon's face slowly veiling and unveiling the celestial glow. This natural play of light added a dramatic flair to the scene below—an unwitting collaboration between man and nature that highlighted this poignant moment of shared solitude between two lovers cursed by fate.
Every detail was perfect, the way the lamplight flickered as though trembling with anticipation; how a distant owl hooted right at Juliet’s tender confession; the subtle shift of fabric as Harry moved closer to Colette—contributed to an atmosphere thick with drama and history. Even those behind cameras or holding booms felt as if they were no longer just creating but witnessing something transcendent; a story retold yet forever new in its telling.
As Harry delivered Romeo’s pledge of undying love beneath Juliet's window conceived anew beneath towering oaks and ageless stone buildings, it was clear this was not merely a recitation but an act of truth.
The director, normally a stoic figure shadowed by the breadth of his responsibilities, allowed a rare smile to creep across his face as the final words lingered in the air, trembling like the leaves around them. His approach was silent, reverent almost, as if stepping into a sacred space that the actors had conjured with their spellbinding talent.
"Cut!" he called out, but the word was soft, filled more with awe than command. The silence that followed was profound, filled with the collective held breath of the crew before they erupted into spontaneous applause. The clapping rolled through the set like thunderous waves, each member expressing their unbridled admiration for what they had witnessed.
The director raised his hands, beckoning for quiet, his eyes gleaming with both pride and something akin to gratitude. "That," he said, his voice steady but imbued with emotion, "was nothing short of magnificent. Harry, Colette—I've seen many a scene in my years behind the camera, but what you both have delivered today transcends performance. It reaches into the core of what it means to be human; to love, to despair, to hope."
He walked over to the actors, who were still nestled in their characters' final embrace, slowly returning to themselves as they listened to his praises. "Colette," he continued, turning to her with a respectful nod. "Your Juliet is both vulnerable and fiery; you’ve given her a depth that breathes new life into Shakespeare’s lines. And Harry," he turned with equal admiration to the young actor whose eyes still held a glimmer of Romeo's passion. "You’ve played Romeo not just as a lover but as a warrior fighting against the inevitable tragedy of his fate. Exceptional work."
The surrounding buildings and trees seemed to absorb his words, casting longer shadows as if in agreement. The director then turned towards the crew members who had captured every nuanced moment on film. "And let’s not forget the incredible work of our crew—lighting, sound, props—this magic can’t happen without each piece falling perfectly into place."
He clapped his hands together once more, this time signaling an end rather than silence. "Alright folks, let’s pack up here—remember this feeling of accomplishment. We’ve got early scenes tomorrow and we need to bring this same energy."
As they disbanded gradually, whispers of praise continued amongst them like quiet ripples on a pond at dusk; everyone shared part of the triumph. Juliet’s balcony scene would be remembered not just for its beauty and tragedy but for its vivid realness that evening under the shrouded moonlight—an echo of love carried softly by the wind through the leaves of those ancient trees.
As the crew began to disperse, the air filled with the clatter of equipment being packed and the soft murmur of satisfied conversations. Harry and Colette slowly walked side by side toward the dressing rooms, their costumes slightly less pristine than they had been at the start of the day but still radiant under the fading sunlight. The path was lined with ancient oaks, their branches gnarled and stretched toward the sky like silent watchers of countless tales unfolding under their gaze.
Harry glanced at Colette, noting how the evening breeze gently lifted strands of her hair. She looked ethereal, a stark contrast to the raw intensity she had displayed on stage just moments before. "You were truly magnificent today," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the cool air. "It’s amazing how you transform so completely."
Colette smiled, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry. You were incredible as well. There’s a certain ferocity you bring to Romeo that’s both thrilling and heart-wrenching."
They reached the dressing rooms, tucked behind a curtain of ivy that draped over the stone walls of the old stage building. Its doors stood like portals back to reality from the whimsical world they had just left behind on set.
Pausing by her door, Harry shuffled slightly, a mix of eagerness and hesitation playing across his features. "Colette, I was wondering, would you... perhaps care for some dinner? There’s this little place I know nearby, quite secluded, perfect for winding down."
The offer hung between them like a delicate promise; a chance to extend the enchantment of their shared performance into the evening. Colette’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. "That sounds lovely, Harry. A quiet dinner would be perfect." Her smile was inviting, bridging the gap between their on-set romance and off-set camaraderie.
As they walked towards Harry's car parked under a canopy of whispering leaves, they talked about everything from their interpretations of their characters to trivial anecdotes from their daily lives. The restaurant was nestled in an alley illuminated by strings of faint golden lights that created halos in the misty night air.
Inside, they chose a corner table surrounded by bookshelves filled with worn volumes and odd trinkets—a cozy retreat from the outside world. As they ordered, they continued to unravel layers of conversation, each topic a stepping stone deeper into each other’s thoughts and dreams.
The meal was delicious—simple fare but made with care—a reflection of the restaurant itself. They laughed over shared appetizers and lingered over wine that painted their thoughts in broader strokes. The candlelight flickered across their faces, casting soft shadows that danced to an unplayed rhythm.
By dessert, Harry found himself watching Colette with renewed appreciation as she articulated her ambitions for future roles and her vision for modern theatrical interpretation. She listened equally intently as he described his journey through being a musician and his aspirations beyond.
As Harry and Colette lingered over the last sips of their drinks, the cozy warmth of the restaurant began to feel like a protective cocoon against the crisp night air outside. They shared a quiet moment, smiling at the serendipity of their meeting and the depth of conversation it had spurred. But as they rose to leave, pushing their chairs back gently against the worn wooden floor, the surreal bubble they had enjoyed burst with abrupt clarity.
Stepping out onto the alley, they were met not by the quiet of the night but by a sudden burst of flashing lights and clamorous voices. Paparazzi, having caught wind of their dinner together, swarmed around them like moths to a flame. Cameras clicked and flashed relentlessly, capturing every gesture and expression, as reporters shouted questions trying to pierce through the veil of their private evening.
"Harry! Colette! Are you two more than just co-stars?" one voice rang out, sharper than the rest.
"Is this dinner a sign of a new Hollywood power couple?" another chimed in.
Shields up against this intrusive barrage, Harry instinctively placed a protective arm around Colette’s shoulders. He guided her gracefully yet swiftly towards his car, parked under the now ominous canopy of leaves that whispered secrets in a tone much darker than before. Each flash from the cameras cast stark shadows on the ground and painted their path in fast paced steps.
Colette kept her head down slightly, her smile replaced by a composed mask of cordial indifference; it was clear she was no stranger to these encounters but nonetheless hoped they might evade them tonight. Harry muttered a polite "have a good night" as he helped her into the passenger seat of his car.
Inside the relative safety of the vehicle, they exchanged a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation—and Harry let out a sigh as he started the engine. The lights outside continued to flash through the tinted windows as he maneuvered out of their parking spot.
The drive back was quiet at first, as if they were both processing the sudden shift from intimate conversation to public spectacle. Yet soon enough, Harry turned down the volume on an ambient tune that had started playing automatically when they entered.
"That was intense," he said, glancing over at Colette with an apologetic half-smile.
"It always is," Colette replied, turning to face him with a resigned smile. "But hey, part of our charming careers, right?"
Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, charm is one word for it."
As the car glided through the dimly lit streets, the silence between them grew heavy with unspoken thoughts. Colette broke the tension first, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of frustration.
"I sometimes wonder if this is what we signed up for, you know? The constant scrutiny, the invasion of privacy... Is it worth it in the end?" she mused, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights.
Harry nodded thoughtfully, his grip on the steering wheel tightening imperceptibly. "I ask myself that question too, especially on nights like this. It's like we're always under a microscope, every move dissected and analyzed by strangers."
A sense of comfort blossomed between them, a shared understanding born out of their parallel experiences in the spotlight. Colette turned to Harry, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes.
"But despite all of that," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "we can't let them define us or dictate our every move. We're more than just their headlines and gossip fodder."
Harry smiled at her resolve, a flicker of admiration shimmering in his eyes. "You're right, Colette. We're artists first and foremost, creators of worlds and emotions."
Their shared conviction filled the car with a renewed sense of purpose, a quiet determination to reclaim their narrative from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. As they neared Colette's apartment building, Harry parked the car with a sense of finality.
"Thank you for tonight," Colette said sincerely, turning to face him with a genuine smile. "Even the chaos at the end, I truly enjoyed our conversation and dinner, it was really good."
Harry returned her smile warmly. "Likewise, Colette. We are more than just co-stars caught in a media frenzy."
As Colette opened the door to her apartment, the image of Harry in his Romeo costume flashed vividly across her mind. His appearance had been a perfect blend of vulnerability and valiance, his attire accentuating the expressive lines of his body as he moved with an almost ethereal grace on stage. The sheer, soft fabric of his shirt clung to him as if it were part of his own skin, and the way the stage lights had caught the highlights in his hair made him look like a figure from an old-world painting—romantic and heroic.
Inside her quiet apartment, everything seemed too still, too empty compared to the warmth of Harry's presence. She tossed her keys on the table absent-mindedly and moved towards her bedroom, her mind replaying their conversation in the car. His words echoed in her ears, blending with flashes of his smile and the intensity in his eyes when he spoke about their artistry. It was as if he'd stripped away all the glitz and scandal that so often cloaked their lives, revealing a raw, sincere connection between them.
Colette tried to settle into bed, pulling her covers close, but restlessness took over. Turning onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts spiraling around Harry’s comforting arm around her shoulders earlier that night. She remembered how secure it felt, a protective circle that shut out the incessant flash of cameras and curious stares. The smell of his cologne, a subtle mix of bergamot and sandalwood—seemed to linger on her skin, transporting her back to their fleeting moments of privacy amidst the chaos.
The more she thought about him, the more details came flooding in. How his lips curved into a smile just before he laughed, how his eyes lit up when discussing a particularly passionate scene. Even the way he held himself during their performance—confident yet tender—seemed etched into her memory with surprising clarity.
A sigh escaped her lips as she turned again in bed, fluffing her pillow in vain search for comfort. The digital clock on her bedside table glowed 2:17 AM; time was slipping by slowly tonight. Every tick seemed to resonate within the quiet room, each one reminding her of Harry’s gentle demeanor and unspoken assurances.
Why was it so difficult to push these thoughts aside? Why did every tiny detail of him seem magnified tonight? Colette knew that sleep would be elusive as long as these memories danced through her head, a sweet torment but a torment nonetheless.
Realizing that fighting it was futile, she sat up and reached for a book from her nightstand. Perhaps diving into someone else’s fictional world could ease her back from hers filled with all too real emotions spurred by Harry. Yet as she flipped through page after page, Colette found herself reading without absorbing any words. Her mind was back with Harry, reliving each moment spent together that day.
Finally surrendering to the inexorable pull of those memories, Colette set the book aside and allowed herself to reminisce about every glance exchanged and every laugh shared with Harry until tiredness eventually claimed victory over turmoil—a bittersweet end to an evening that neither camera flashes nor gossip columns could ever truly capture.
As the first rays of morning light began to filter through her gauzy curtains, Colette felt a tentative peace settle over her. The unavoidable sunrise not only heralded a new day but also the unavoidable return to set where today's scenes awaited her—scenes that would force her to bridge the gap between reality and fiction, between Colette and Juliet, Harry and Romeo.
The day unfurled slowly, each moment stretching languidly as if aware of the weight it carried. Colette arrived on set, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against the cage of her ribs. The set was a meticulous recreation of Verona, the air perfumed with artificial blooms that lined the faux stone balconies. It was here, beneath a painstakingly crafted balcony, that she found Harry already immersed in his role, his eyes distant yet filled with an intense purpose.
As makeup artists fluttered around them like attentive sprites, dusting their faces with powder and painting their lips, the boundary between Harry and Romeo, Colette and Juliet blurred seamlessly. The director—a wiry man with a penchant for perfection—guided them through their positions with an authoritarian yet oddly paternal touch.
"Remember," he said, his voice low and urgent as if conveying a secret, "this kiss isn’t just about passion. It’s about discovery, wonderment. You’re unveiling layers of your soul to one another."
Taking their places, Harry extended his hand with a gallantry that could either be attributed to him or to Romeo—it was hard to tell at this juncture. As Colette placed her hand in his, their fingers tentatively entwining, she wondered if he felt the same electric surge that ran up her arm.
The cameras rolled silently, capturing every nuanced expression. Around them, the crew faded into obscurity; it was just Harry and Colette, Romeo and Juliet. As Harry spoke his lines—the words Shakespeare penned centuries ago—his voice wove around her heart like a tender vine. His gaze held hers captive and in that moment, under the watchful eyes of countless unseen spectators both present and future, fiction turned into a palpable reality.
With the gentlest of motions indicative of both apprehension and certainty, Harry drew closer. His breath mingled with hers—a sweet prelude to the imminent ballet of their lips. When their lips finally met in an embrace as old as time yet fresh like dew on morning leaves, there was a hush on set so profound that even the rustle of fabric seemed sacrilege.
The kiss deepened not out of direction but from an intrinsic need to explore the burgeoning emotion that had started off as an onscreen farce but had bloomed into something indefinably real. They existed in the breath between lines; in the silence between words—their world distilled into the small space between their intertwined fingers and mingling breaths.
As they parted—an infinity encapsulated in seconds—their gazes lingered longingly; not solely because the script demanded it but because their souls hesitated to disentangle.
"Cut!" The director's voice sliced through the thick curtain of emotion, abrupt yet not unkind.
Applause broke out among the crew, bringing Harry and Colette back from Verona to the soundstage. Yet something lingered in their shared glance, a spark that neither the stark lights of the studio nor the return to their own separate lives could dim. As they stepped away from each other, there was an awkward moment of hesitation, a mutual recognition of something undefined and new swirling between them.
The rest of the day passed in a daze of repeated scenes and whispered lines. Colette found herself more aware of Harry's presence, every look and every touch magnified under the scrutinizing lens of her newfound feelings. Off-camera, they joked and laughed, but there was an unspoken agreement in their smiles, a secret tucked away behind their lighthearted banter.
When filming wrapped for the day, Colette felt the exhaustion from emotional strain more than from physical demand. The carousel of her thoughts kept spinning as she drove home, the ghost of Harry’s touch lingering like a promise on her skin.
Back at her apartment, she knew she ought to eat something or perhaps review scripts for tomorrow's shoot. Instead, she found herself at her window, gazing out into the twilight cityscape, her mind replaying every encounter with Harry. It wasn't just their characters who had discovered new emotional landscapes; Colette feared she was standing on the precipice of a revelation herself.
Her phone rang, slicing through her silence. She hesitated before answering, half-hoping it was Harry. It was her agent instead.
"Colette! Todays news came in; you were absolutely sublime! Everyone’s buzzing about the chemistry between you and Harry," her agent enthused over the line. Though meant as praise, each word weighed heavy on her soul like stones filling her pockets.
"Thanks," Colette managed to say, her voice a mere whisper against the storm inside her. "That means a lot."
"Listen," her agent continued, oblivious to Colette's turmoil, "There’s talk already about future projects for you two—maybe even some endorsements together. This could be huge for your career."
Her career. Right. That’s what mattered. Yet as Colette ended the call and sat back against the soft cushions of her couch, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps this time, something else mattered more.
She finally allowed herself to consider the possibility that what was scripted for Romeo and Juliet might have woven itself into the fabric of reality for Harry and herself. Could life imitate art to such a degree? Or was it merely caught up in the whirlwind of creating something beautiful together?
The night deepened around Colette as she sat alone with her thoughts. She knew decisions lay ahead, decisions about how far she should let this potential off-screen relationship develop amidst their on-screen romance. Tonight though, she would allow herself one certainty: that in all her roles, both lived and acted, nothing had ever felt quite as dangerous or as genuine as whatever was unfolding with Harry.
The room dimmed further as the last strains of sunlight vanished, leaving only the flickering shadows cast by the streetlamps outside. Colette's mind, a whirlpool of longing and rationality, began to conjure vivid scenes of Harry reciting lines from their recent scenes. Each word, artfully delivered with his rich, emotive voice, seemed to echo through her now quiet apartment, filling the spaces between her scattered thoughts.
He had stood there on stage, beneath the opulent glow of the set lights, his eyes finding hers in the scripted moments that felt all too real. "But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Harry's voice had quivered slightly with a passion that transcended performance. Colette remembered how her heart had leapt at those words, how the scripted distance between them seemed to collapse in a singularity of shared emotion.
As Romeo, he had been impetuous yet earnest, his every motion weaving a spell of youthful ardor and desperate love. And now, alone, she let her mind replay those scenes—his beseeching gaze, his hands reaching not just for Juliet but for Colette herself. Could it be that each line he delivered was an arrow aimed directly at her heart? The balcony scene unfolded again in her thoughts: Harry's silhouette framed by the mock Verona backdrop they had on set. "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out," he had declared fervently.
Could stony limits hold her emotions at bay? Her career had always been a fortress of sorts—a necessity to keep vulnerability at bay. But Harry’s portrayal of Romeo dismantled her defenses brick by brick, not through sheer force but through the tender strength of shared vulnerability.
In her mind's eye, Colette wandered back to a moment during rehearsals when Harry had improvised—off-script yet profoundly resonant—speaking directly to her soul beyond the bounds of their characters. "And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite." How his eyes had held hers, unwavering!
The thought brought an unexpected tear to Colette's eye—a tear for the uncertain future, for the potential hardships they might face together or apart, but also a tear for the beauty of a connection that might just transcend the ephemeral world of acting.
Colette rose from the couch and moved towards her window. Gazing out into the starlit cityscape, she pondered over these newly tapped depths within her heart. Perhaps tomorrow she would make decisions with consequences she couldn't yet foresee. But tonight belonged to dreams and whispered lines—a night where Harry's recitations from Romeo and Juliet swirled around her heart like a sweet yet potent incantation. Tonight was not about contracts or cameras. It was about understanding that what they might share could be as profound and real as any love story ever penned—an ode not written by Shakespeare but lived by two hearts daring enough to explore it.
As the hours ticked by, the city outside her window slowly transformed. The glaring neon signs dimmed to a soft glow, and the relentless honking of cars turned into a distant murmur, as if even New York herself had decided to catch her breath. In that serene quietude, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirping of a late-night bird, Colette's mind kept returning to Harry—to his eyes, his voice, his surprisingly delicate touch on stage.
She tried reading a book, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes as her thoughts danced back to those moments onstage when the air between them seemed charged with an electric intensity. It was in those moments when Harry's voice would deepen just so, casting out lines like spells that wrapped around her heart, binding it inexplicably to him.
Restlessness finally got the better of Colette. With a sigh, she set aside her book and picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over Harry's contact—for a moment she hesitated—but then, driven by an impulse she neither questioned nor understood fully, she pressed call.
The phone rang briefly before Harry's familiar voice filled the line. "Colette? Is everything alright?"
"I couldn't sleep," she confessed softly, the words feeling both foolish and necessary.
There was a pause—a thoughtful silence—and then Harry’s voice came again, quietly intense. "Come over, then. I’ve been trying to distract myself with scripts and lyrics, but it seems tonight is bent on being restless."
A small smile touched her lips; relief washed through her in gentle waves. "Give me twenty minutes?"
"Take your time," he replied with such warmth that it felt like a hug through the phone.
When Colette arrived at Harry’s apartment—a modest yet cozy space filled with stacks of books and paintings that spilled from every corner—she found him sitting on the balcony overlooking the twinkling skyline. He had two cups of tea steaming gently on a small table between them.
As she stepped out onto the balcony, he rose to greet her with an ease that belied his earlier restlessness. They didn’t speak much initially; words seemed superfluous as they sipped their tea and let the city’s nocturnal symphony envelop them.
It was only after both cups were emptied that Harry spoke again, his voice soft but clear against the backdrop of whispering winds. "You know," he began hesitantly, "tonight reminds me of our final act last week—the way Juliet looks at Romeo with such... such unguarded hope.”
"Yes," Colette whispered back, feeling that familiar pull in her chest—the inexplicable connection that seemed to thrive in shared silences and stolen glances rather than grand declarations.
"Sometimes," Harry continued, turning to face her more fully now, "I wonder whether we’re more than just actors playing parts—whether some scenes bleed into reality without us even noticing."
Colette reached out then, touching his hand lightly. "Maybe they do," she said simply. And for a long while after that, they sat there together—two figures etched against a sprawling cityscape—finding solace in each other's presence and in the quiet conviction that tonight was not merely about roles or rehearsals; it was about discovering truths hidden within lines delivered.
As the night deepened and the city's sounds ebbed into a lulling quiet, the conversation between Harry and Colette drifted from their characters' tragic romance to their own realities—careers that were as dazzling as they were demanding, personal lives constantly scrutinized by the public eye, and futures uncertain but full of potential.
"Sometimes I think about stepping away," Harry admitted, his gaze locked on the distant lights. "From the music, from the films—just to see who I am when the lights go off."
Colette nodded. The vulnerability in his voice resonated with her own unspoken fears. "It's as though we're constantly wearing masks, isn't it? Onstage or off, it's hard to tell where the character ends and where we begin."
"Yeah," he sighed. "Tonight though, being here with you—it feels real. No scripts, no audience." His eyes met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver through her.
She smiled, feeling a sense of kinship forge deeper between them. "No masks," she whispered.
They sat for a moment in silence, each lost in contemplation of the rare simplicity this evening had brought them—a stark contrast to their everyday chaos. Harry eventually stood up, stretching his arms towards the starry sky before offering his hand to her. "Come on, let’s take a walk. The night’s too beautiful to spend it all sitting down."
Reluctantly leaving their secluded spot, they wandered down quiet streets lined with barely lit cafes and closed bookstores, their steps synchronized in comfortable silence. Every so often, Harry would point out an old theater or a quaint little art gallery he’d visited during his tours. Colette listened intently, her heart swelling with an affection that was new and yet profoundly familiar.
As they turned back towards Harry's apartment, he stopped suddenly under a streetlamp’s soft glow. "I haven't felt this... peaceful in months," he confessed, looking at her with an earnestness that made her heart skip.
She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Neither have I," she said. "It’s easy to forget what quiet feels like when your life is full of noise."
Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on her face as if memorizing every detail. "Do you think it's possible? To find peace amidst all the turmoil?"
"I think," she started, pausing to gather her thoughts under his attentive gaze, "it's about finding the right person to share in those quiet moments—the ones who hear the music in your silences."
A warm smile spread across Harry's face as he drew her closer. Underneath that streetlamp, amid the sleeping city and beneath an audience of stars, they found a momentary escape—not as Romeo and Juliet caught in Shakespearean tragedy nor as celebrities shadowed by fames relentless spotlight—but simply as Harry and Colette discovering solace within each other's company.
As they slowly headed back to his apartment, hands entwined with silent promises of more shared nights like this one, both understood that while their careers might pull them in different directions come morning, tonight was theirs—a night marked not by dialogues written by playwrights long gone but by honest words exchanged between two souls navigating through life’s vast stage together.
She felt the warmth of his hand in hers, the roughness of his skin against her own soft palm, sending shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, taking in the way he moved, so confident and yet so gentle at the same time. Colette couldn't help but feel safe in his presence. The sound of their footsteps echoed on the empty sidewalk, mixing with the distant hum of traffic and occasional howl of a lonesome siren. As they turned into an alleyway, she breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery, mingling with the stale smoke from a cigarette butt left behind by some passerby. The stars above twinkled like diamonds scattered across a midnight sky, their light guiding them home.
They walked hand in hand beneath the glow of the streetlamp, casting shadows on the brick wall behind them as they stepped forward. The rhythm of their stride became synced, almost like they were dancing to an unknown melody. Every now and then, Harry would point out constellations he recognized or make up stories about the ones he didn't, his voice deep and soothing like velvet caressing her ears. His laughter rang out when she teased him about his astronomical knowledge—or lack thereof—and she loved how genuine it sounded despite everything that surrounded them.
Colette paused for a moment to look at a painting on an old doorstep; it was beautifully executed yet marred by graffiti tags that told stories of love lost and hearts broken. Harry stood beside her, looking over her shoulder as if seeing it for the first time too. She noticed how his presence made even this decrepit alleyway seem somehow beautiful.
They continued walking, their steps echoing softly against the pavement as they neared Harry's apartment building. As they reached the front door, he stopped and with a flourish produced a set of keys from his jeans pocket. The metal jangled softly against each other as he unlocked it, and then they stepped inside out of the cool night air into the warmth of his cozy living room. Setting down her purse, Colette looked around at the familiar surroundings - the worn sofa, the bookshelf filled with favorite novels and framed photographs from past adventures, and the unlit fireplace waiting for winter evenings. The musty smell of old books mingled with freshly brewed coffee drifting from the kitchenette.
"Well," Harry began as he shut the door behind them, "I guess this is where our little adventure ends."
Colette's heart sank at his words but she forced a smile anyway. "Yeah... it was fun while it lasted."
"It always is," he agreed quietly, moving towards her and giving her one last hug before gently pushing her towards the door. "You should get some sleep though, early morning meeting tomorrow."
With one final wave goodnight, Colette slipped through the door and into the hallway, hearing it click shut behind her. Outside on the sidewalk, she took a deep breath of the cool night air and felt a slight shiver run down her spine as reality came crashing back in - work in the morning with its emails and deadlines and office politics. But for now, she allowed herself to linger on the memory of their night together: The taste of wine on her tongue still lingering; the soft buzz from alcohol fading; Harry's touch still lingering on her skin like tiny electric shocks.
As Colette closed the door behind her, she could hear the familiar clicking sound filling her with a sense of finality. The night air was crisp against her skin, carrying with it a chill that sent shivers down her spine as she took in deep breaths of the city outside. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the evening; it had been an unforgettable journey into a world she never imagined existed. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and now she found herself standing on the sidewalk once more, back in reality. The neon lights from nearby stores cast an artificial glow upon the pavement as she stepped away from Harry's cozy apartment and began to walk towards home. The sound of footsteps echoed on concrete as cars honked their horns in the distance, creating a symphony of urban noise that surrounded her.
She could still feel Harry's embrace pressing against her back as if he were wrapping his arms around hers again, sending tingles up and down her spine with each step she took away from him. She could still taste the sweetness of red wine dancing on her tongue - its tartness mixing with the lingering taste of their passionate kisses as if it were a bitter-sweet symphony only they shared. She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the starry sky above; the sight always managed to calm her nerves but tonight it only served as a reminder that their time together was over.
The streets were empty save for a few late-night stragglers making their way home from parties or bars, their laughter and music fading into nothingness as Colette walked further down the block. A soft breeze rustled through trees lining the sidewalk, leaves whispering secrets only they knew while carrying with them.
Once Colette made it home she brushed her teeth and went into her cozy bed wrapped around in her favorite cotton pajamas, snuggling deep into the softness of her sheets. She reached over to her phone on the bedside table and saw Harry's name still glowing on the screen. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered their last goodbye
As she drifted off, Colette imagines walking through Central Park once more. The crisp air rustled through trees, carrying with it the scent of autumn - earthy and musky. She could hear the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and see birds flitting from branch to branch overhead. They sat together on a bench, leaning against one another as they watched nature's greatest show for free. He held her hand closely, lacing fingers between hers as if they were always meant to be entwined like that. And then she felt a drop of rain on her nose, followed by another one on her cheek. They both laughed as they ran hand in hand towards his apartment; their shoes splashing through puddles left behind by an unexpected shower that cloud-covered sky promised earlier in the day.
Colette woke up with that same coolness brushing against her face but found herself alone in bed instead of curled up with Harry. The memory lingered like a fond dream but faded away with each blink until all that was left was reality.
Colette got ready and made her way over to the studio, today was the last day of scenes, and the scene where Romeo and Juliet meet their demise.
As she entered the bustling set, the weight of the final day pressed on her shoulders like a heavy curtain about to fall for the last time. The air was thick with a mix of excitement and melancholy, as everyone from the crew to the cast moved with a purposeful urgency, aware that this chapter was closing. Colette brushed past the props and costume racks, her mind still tangled in thoughts of Harry and the night that they had spent wrapped in each other’s company.
She found herself in front of her dressing room mirror, staring at her own reflection as she slipped into Juliet's intricate gown. Each layer of fabric seemed to wrap her tighter, not just in character but also in the realization that soon she would have to strip away this identity that had become a second skin over months of filming.
"Knock knock," came a familiar voice from the door. It was Harry, leaning against the frame with that charming smile that always seemed to disarm her.
"Hey," Colette replied, her heart skipping a beat. "Ready for the grand finale?"
"As I'll ever be," Harry said, stepping inside and helping adjust a loose strand of her hair. "It’s surreal, isn’t it? Feels like just yesterday we were stumbling through our first lines together and today we die together."
Colette nodded, feeling the corners of her eyes moisten. "I'm going to miss us—this."
Harry took her hand gently, squeezing it reassuringly. "The end of one story, Colette. Not the end of everything."
Together, they walked onto the set where the final scene awaited them—a beautifully tragic conclusion to Shakespeare’s timeless tale. The set was a somber array of shadows and light, perfectly crafting an ambiance befitting their last moment as Romeo and Juliet.
As they stepped into their marks, silence enveloped the set. The director called for quiet on set and slowly, every surrounding noise dulled into obscurity until there was nothing but the fictional world they were anchored in.
"Action!" came the resolute call.
The scene unfolded with an intensity that mirrored the raw emotions both Harry and Colette felt. They delivered their lines with a palpable passion, their voices laced with the poignant realization of both the characters' and their own impending separation. As Romeo, Harry took a vial of poison, his hands trembling slightly—a detail that added a layer of desperate realism to his performance. Colette, as Juliet, lay motionless on the stone-cold crypt, her chest rising and falling subtly, awaiting her final cue.
When it came time for Juliet to awaken, Colette's eyes fluttered open to meet Harry's gaze one last time. The sorrow in his eyes was reflected in hers; no longer just acting, they were living their characters' tragedy. As she spoke her last lines, a tear escaped down her cheek, blurring the boundary between performance and reality.
The potent mix of fiction and their personal goodbye charged through their final kiss, drawing a silent gasp from the crew around them. As Juliet drove Romeo's dagger into her chest, Colette collapsed beside Harry with a grace that spoke volumes of the artistry she had poured into her role.
For a few heartbeats after the director called "Cut!" nobody moved. The echo of their lines lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of finality. It was only when the applause broke out that Harry and Colette were pulled back from Verona to the stark reality of the studio set.
Still lying beside each other on the cold ground of the set crypt, they turned to look at each other one last time. The clapping around them faded into a distant murmur as Harry reached out to brush away another tear from Colette’s cheek.
“That was...” Harry started but seemed unable to find the right words.
“Beautiful,” Colette finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper. “And absolutely fucking heartbreaking.”
They helped each other up and took a bow to the crew whose cheers had now filled up space like light flooding into dark corners. It was over — their journey as star-crossed lovers had come to an end on screen.
Just then, the director, a tall figure with a rumpled look that spoke of endless days and sleepless nights, stepped into the circle of light. He adjusted his glasses, looking from Harry to Colette with an expression torn between admiration and the perpetual dissatisfaction of a perfectionist.
"Truly magnificent," he pronounced, though his voice carried a but that hung in the air unspoken. The crew quieted, sensing there was more to come. "However," he continued, casting a quick glance at the cameraman who nodded sheepishly, "we had a slight glitch with the lighting. One of our key lights flickered out right at the crucial moment."
A collective sigh rippled through the team, mixed with a few suppressed groans. Yet no one protested— they all knew the importance of getting it just right.
"We need to go for another take," the director declared firmly. The disappointment was palpable, but so was the resolve to perfect the art they were all crafting together.
Harry and Colette exchanged a look of weary determination. Without a word, they moved back to their starting positions beside the stone altar that served as Juliet's final resting place.
As the crew reset their equipment, Harry glanced around at the towering set pieces that recreated Verona's gothic splendor. Artificial moonlight streamed through stained glass windows crafted from gel and plastic but beautiful nonetheless. Shadows danced along walls textured to look like ancient stone, casting eerie patterns that whispered of old secrets and timeless tragedies.
Colette smoothed her velvet gown—a rich crimson that pooled around her like spilled wine—and repositioned her hairpiece, tucking a stray lock behind her ear before she lay down once more on the cold faux-marble slab.
The props master darted forward to adjust the placement of the dagger—a replica so finely crafted it seemed as sharp as truth itself—before scurrying away as silently as he had arrived.
"Places everyone!" called the assistant director, a sprightly woman whose energy seemed inexhaustible. Her voice cut through the murmured conversations and last-minute adjustments, snapping everyone back to attention.
As silence reclaimed the set, encapsulating it in a tense bubble of anticipation, the director looked over his tableau one last time. Satisfied, he lifted his hand high then brought it down sharply.
"And... action!"
In a haunting moment, Colette delved deeper into her character, her eyes brimming with an unfathomable anguish originating not in physical torment but in the profound intertwining of loss and love. As she enacted plunging the steel through heart and bone with tragic precision, Harry’s response mirrored her intensity—his visage a masterful portrayal of despair and utter helplessness.
Silently, the cameras rolled, capturing each subtle nuance: the taut muscles beneath Juliet's delicate makeup; Romeo's trembling fingertips reaching across unseen barriers; Colette's quivering shoulders as she drew breaths heavy with sorrow. When she crumpled beside Harry once more, her descent seemed like a graceful surrender—a fragile leaf succumbing to its inevitable fall.
The seconds stretched endlessly until once again the director called out "Cut!" His voice broke through Colette’s final shuddering breaths and this time when he spoke there was no hiding his satisfaction. "Perfect," he said simply, nodding with fervor.
The applause that erupted was spontaneous and heartfelt, echoing around the cavernous studio like waves crashing against a shore. Crew members wiped away tears, caught in the emotional riptide of the scene they had just witnessed.
Harry and Colette, still entangled on the ground, finally allowed themselves a small smile—exhausted, relieved, and a little incredulous at the magic they had managed to recreate. As they stood up, their faces glistening with sweat and theatrical tears, they were enveloped in a series of eager hugs and congratulations from everyone around them.
The makeup artists hurried over with their kits ready to do touch-ups, but for a moment nobody touched Harry or Colette; it was as if their looks were sacred, perfectly capturing the essence of the poignant tragedy they had just embodied. The director approached them, clapping Harry on the back and kissing Colette on both cheeks.
"I couldn't have asked for more," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You both brought Juliet and Romeo to life in a way I never could have envisioned when we first started this project."
Harry, catching his breath, nodded appreciatively. "It felt right," he admitted, looking down at his costume, stained with artificial blood that somehow felt all too real at that moment.
Colette brushed a tear from her cheek and laughed lightly. "I think I'm going to miss her," she confessed, referring to Juliet. "It's strange how a character can become a part of you."
As they made their way off the set, passing through the constructed archways and past the fabricated stone tombs, there was a collective sense of completion but also of loss; the world they had created was temporary, its dissolution inevitable now that the film was wrapped.
The wrap party later that evening was a lively affair held at a local venue adorned with replicas of props and costumes from the film. The mood was buoyant yet bittersweet as cast and crew mingled, sharing memories from months of hard work.
Colette found herself standing by a balcony overlooking the city lights, a glass of champagne in hand. Harry joined her soon after.
"It's going to be odd not seeing everyone tomorrow," he said, leaning against the railing beside her.
"Yeah," Colette agreed softly. "It's like saying goodbye to family."
They sipped their drinks in companionable silence for a moment before Harry spoke up again.
"What’s next for you?" he asked curiously.
Colette shrugged slightly. "A few scripts to read; maybe some time off. And you?"
"Same," Harry replied. "Though it'll be hard to top this experience."
They smiled at each other, sharing an unspoken acknowledgement of the journey they had shared. The night grew deeper around them as words gave way to shared glances and laughter from inside reached their ears—a soundtrack to endings and new beginnings alike.
“Why don’t we get out of here, go to my place for a while.” Harry said while looking over at Colette.
Colette glanced up at the stars twinkling above, considering his invitation. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the distant sounds of celebration from inside. It felt like the perfect end to an intense and transformative day.
"Sounds like a plan," she replied with a smile that matched the lightness in her heart.
They excused themselves from the party, slipping away unnoticed among the throngs of well-wishers and fellow revelers. The city's streets were quiet as they walked side by side, their footsteps syncing in a comfortable rhythm.
Arriving at Harry's place, he unlocked the door and let them into his warmly lit apartment. Colette really examined the place. The space was tastefully decorated with various mementos from his travels and projects, each piece telling a story of its own. Colette wandered over to a shelf displaying several old cameras and script binders.
"This place has character," she commented, picking up a vintage camera and examining it closely.
"Thanks," Harry said as he went to fix them some drinks in the kitchen. "It's my little sanctuary away from all the chaos."
Returning with two glasses of wine, he joined her by a large window overlooking the cityscape. They talked for hours about everything—from their fears and dreams to trivial stories from set—each conversation thread drawing them closer, weaving a new layer into their friendship.
As dawn hinted at its arrival with a soft glow on the horizon, Harry poured them each another glass of wine. "To new beginnings?" he proposed, raising his glass slightly.
"To new beginnings," Colette echoed, clinking her glass against his. They sipped their wine in serene silence, watching as the city slowly came to life.
Harry's heart raced as he leaned in closer to Colette, his breath hot against her ear. "I have to do this," he whispered urgently, desperation lacing his words. Colette's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded, giving him permission to continue. And with that, Harry pressed his lips hungrily against hers, pouring all of his pent-up desire and longing into the passionate kiss. Electricity crackled between them as their bodies molded together, fueling the intensity of their connection. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the taste of each other on their lips and the overwhelming need driving them both.
“I’ve been thinking about this since we filmed that scene.”
Colette's breath hitched at Harry’s admission. "That scene?" she inquired, her voice trembling with a heady cocktail of nerves and anticipation. He traced his thumb across the contour of her lips, nodding before reclaiming them with a renewed intensity that left no room for doubt.
"That damn scene," he murmured against the luscious curve of her mouth, his hot whispers making her shiver in response. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer so she could feel every hard inch of him against the softness of her body.
Colette's heart pounded in her chest as Harry's thumb traced the contours of her lips, her eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. His hot whispers sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but arch into him, seeking more contact.
"That scene," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire, "made me want you even more." With that, he claimed her lips once again, his tongue diving deep into her mouth as his hands found their way up underneath her shirt. She moaned into the kiss, feeling his calloused fingertips brush against the underside of her breasts.
His touch sent electric shockwaves through her body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. She whimpered softly against his mouth, clutching at his shoulders as he teased her nipples through her bra. "Harry," she gasped out between ragged breaths, her voice barely a whisper.
He pulled back slightly to look down at her flushed face. "Tell me you want this," he growled lowly, eyes dark and intense as they bore into hers. Colette swallowed hard before nodding frantically. "I do," she whispered back in a voice that shook with need.
Without further hesitation, Harry scooped Colette up into his strong arms and carried her over to the nearby bed. He set her down gently before kneeling down between her spread legs and gazing up at her with a hungry glint in his eyes. "You are so so fucking beautiful," he murmured approvingly as he ran his roughened hands up along the insides of her thighs until they reached their final destination: the lace-covered mound of between them.
Groaning lowly, Harry pressed his fingers against the damp material covering Colette's core and pushed them through the fabric to slide along her wet folds. She cried out softly as sensations she hadn't felt since that fateful day on set washed over her once again—sensations that only seemed to intensify now that they were alone together like this .
Harry's fingers slid deeper into Colette's wet folds, finding her swollen clit and circling it gently. She moaned loudly, arching her back as the sensations overwhelmed her. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire.
"Oh god yes," she whimpered, her eyes fluttering closed. "Please, Harry. I need you."
He pulled his fingers away from her core and stood up, pulling her with him. She stumbled to her feet, feeling unsteady from the intense pleasure he'd just given her. He backed her up against the wall, their bodies flush from chest to thighs. His hard cock pressed against her stomach, making her even wetter.
"You are so pretty, love.," he murmured again, his lips brushing against hers in a featherlight kiss. His hands roamed over her body, squeezing her ass cheeks and pulling them apart to reveal her tight little hole. "I want you to feel every inch of me inside you."
Colette shuddered at his words, imagining how good it would feel to be filled up by him. She reached down between them and took hold of his cock through his pants, stroking it slowly as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please," she whispered again.
Harry groaned deeply and grabbed hold of her wrists, lifting them above her head and pinning them against the wall next to her head. His other hand slid down between their bodies once more, pushing aside the fabric of their clothes until he could position his cockhead at her entrance. He looked into her eyes for permission before thrusting forward powerfully into her tight heat.
She cried out in shock and pleasure as he filled her completely in one swift motion. He began to move inside her slowly at first, watching as she adjusted to his size. But soon enough he picked up speed, slamming into her over and over again with a roughness that made Colette's legs shake uncontrollably beneath him."Fuck yes!" she screamed breathlessly as he took control of their coupling completely."
She could feel every inch of him, stretching and filling her while also leaving her wanting more. His grip on her waist tightened as he picked up speed, slamming into her so hard that the bed shook beneath them.
"You like that?" he growled, his voice hoarse with lust.
"God yes!" she moaned back, arching her back to meet each of his thrusts. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. He reached down between them and rubbed circles around her clit with his fingers, sending shudders of delight through her entire being.
"You're so fucking tight," he grunted, leaning down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking hard. The sensation sent electric shocks straight to her groin, making her even wetter for him. She cried out his name as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her, causing an explosive wave of pleasure that left her breathless.
Colette found herself begging for release as he continued to thrust into her unmercifully. "Please... I need you to cum with me!" She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the brink but didn't want it without him by her side. In response, he picked up the pace even more, driving deeper than ever before as they both neared their climaxes together.
Their bodies moved in a frantic rhythm, the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft thuds of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. Colette felt the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter within her, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensations Harry was eliciting from her.
Just as she thought she could take no more, Harry’s movements became even more purposeful, his strokes deepening, each pushing her further towards that edge. His mouth left her nipple with a wet pop, traveling up her neck, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached her ear. His hot breath against her ear sent another shiver down her spine as he whispered, "Let go for me, love. I’ve got you."
And with those words, Colette felt the dam break. A powerful orgasm washed over her, waves of pleasure pulsating through her as she cried out his name, her body trembling uncontrollably. Harry followed soon after, his own climax overtaking him with a groan as he buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering against hers.
As they both regained their breath, Harry slowly pulled back to look at Colette, his eyes soft now with a tender glow. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before easing out of her and helping her lay down on the bed. He lay beside her, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up in his warmth.
They lay there in silence for a moment, neither needing words to express what had just transpired between them. Finally, Colette turned to look at him, a shy smile playing on her lips. “That was…” she started but seemed lost for words.
“Everything,” Harry finished for her, smiling back. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear gently. “You were everything, my Juliet.”
Colette snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling an unfamiliar sense of peace wash over her. What had started as an undeniable attraction had blossomed into something far deeper in these moments alone together. They both knew that what was happening between them wasn’t just fleeting passion; it was something that might just redefine their understanding of connection and desire.
As the night deepened, outside the confines of their intimate world, the city's sounds blended into a distant hum, almost like a lullaby meant to soothe them in their post-climactic serenity. Harry lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Colette's breathing against him, his thoughts meandering through the events that had led to this moment.
After what felt like an eternity bathed in silence and warmth, Colette stirred slightly, breaking the magical spell that had enveloped them. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of wonder and a hint of vulnerability. "Harry," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the quietude. "What does this mean for us? For tomorrow?"
Harry’s heart tightened at her words. Tomorrow. With their lives so deeply entrenched in public scrutiny and their careers always on the line, the weight of reality began to dawn on him. Yet looking into Colette's hopeful eyes, all he wanted was to delay those worries, to live in this bubble for as long as they could.
He brushed his lips against her forehead softly, choosing his words with care. "Let's not think about tomorrow yet," he murmured softly. "Tonight, it’s just you and me. No labels, no expectations. Just... us."
Colette nodded slowly, nestling back into his chest. "Just us," she echoed, allowing herself to be enveloped by the warmth of his promise.
They stayed like that for a while longer until sleep began to claim them, their bodies entwined in a quiet promise of the now with thoughts of tomorrow held at bay.
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles masterlist#harry styles smut#one direction#harry styles x reader#hs live#harry styles one shot#otra tour#harry edward styles#harrystylesfanfic#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one direction#harrystyles#harry styles series#harry styles imagine#harry styles writing#harry styles mature#harrystylesau#harrystylessmut#harrystylesoneshot#harrystylesfanfiction#love on tour#harryedwardstyles#Harry edits
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"Are Jikook even real?" LOL at least you tried.
There are two people from a TV show I watch. Both had partners they were with when the show first started. Somewhere along the way, those two coworkers/Costars started hanging out alone on private time, dressing alike & making regular trips to Disneyland together. Then more trips & outings together wearing matching clothes. Suddenly they stopped talking about their partners & then came TWO break-up confirmations. Shocker. They're partners left & those two are still glued together, dressing a like, taking regular trips to Disneyland & now posting coupley pics together on IG wearing matching outfits at Disneyland etc. No confirmation from either that they're dating, but none is needed because its literal proof of having no respect for your partners regardless & NO ONE is gonna stick around & watch their partner humiliate them like that publicly, no matter how long you been together. What they're doing is NOT part of their job description. They were even accused of doing fanservice since their characters are dating on the show, til they had break ups with their Longterm partners. Who the hell wants to sit at home while your partner is dressing up in matching couple clothes & keeps going on alone trips together with their coworker, without you or other friends? We aren't talking normal coworker friend outings with friends. We're talking crossing boundaries leaning into intimacy with someone who isn't your partner.
This isn't me using this as proof Jikook are real, but I am saying that Jikook's behavior no matter who they're dating, would be considered shitty, hurtful, embarrassing and inexcusable, because who the hell spends couple holidays together several times in public & not with their own partners, dating or not? When have you seen Yoonmin, Vmin or TK spend couple days together in public or confirm hickeys after a drunken night together or Lay in bed half naked flirting with each other in front of millions, begging the other over or sending questionable thirst traps for each other's bdays? Y'all treating Jikook as if this is some fanfiction & not real life behavior they're doing, which would be considered both physical & emotional cheating. Y'all can piss off trying to gaslight me into thinking Jikook are dating other members & this is normal acceptable bro behavior, when I know damn well it isn't.
Published 💜
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"he was my first and i was just another girl"
Is perfect scenario for Pedro boys and reader 🥰
Javier Peña x f!reader
A/N: omg I thought of so many scenarios for this one, but there was only one answer: Javi and we know it 🚬
• Laredo was a small city and everyone knew each other there, even if you didn't know the person per se, you had heard of them, and of course things wouldn't be different when it came to the infamous Javier Peña, the local hero and also hot gossip of the place
• you'd heard too much about him, his adventures in Colombia, the Escobar hunting and of course the most famous story about Javier Peña of all times: his runaway wedding. It was just so amusing as it didn't seem real at all but rather the tales of a fictional character and especially when you saw Javier for the first time, because you certainly didn't expect him to be so handsome
• you sort of expected him to be kind of pathetic, you were not sure why, but perhaps because you'd heard he used to wear tight jeans, colorful shirts, aviators and stuff like that, the image painted in your mind couldn't be further from the truth: yes, he did dress up in that corny way, but he was painfully handsome like you were not expecting
• and flirty too, you didn't expect him to be that flirty, but he was and against all of your judgments, you accepted a drink from him, what was the worst that could happen? He was a sight for sore eyes, his smile was to die for and the way he called you cariño for the first time you felt you were melting
• so a drink at a bar became two, and then it became dinner and then it turned to a salsa dancing date which surprised you because you never knew Javier Peña could dance, but he was quite good at it and it was so tempting and intense when he grabbed you by the hips and clung your bodies closer as you swayed them together
• and after that, it didn't take long for the two of you to crawl into bed together, and not only the bed, but his car, his ranch, the barn, the lake and many other places around the city you were sure that weren't really allowed to be used for that purpose, but it didn't matter
• you couldn't get enough of Javi, he was perfect, too good to be real, and it was too good because he made sure to tell you he didn't do romances or relationships and you were just on board with him, as you also didn't do romances or relationships... You had nothing against it, but it wasn't just your thing
• however, whenever you were around Javi, it sort of seemed that maybe, and just maybe, things could lead somewhere, because it was just so good, it came to a point you did everything with Javi: you went out together, you had ice cream by the main square, you both went to the movies, rode horses, you even helped him out at the ranch here and there
• he liked you, you were pretty, sweet, funny and he enjoyed your company, he just worried that maybe you both were just too connected somehow and when he realized you were starting to become more and more attached to him, he thought it was time to stop things for a while; he didn't want to make you think things were actually something else when they clearly weren't
• so as much as it hurt him, he decided to break things up, it would be better that way, then you could do your own things and move on with your life and he would do the same, no strings attached and no worries about it at all
• you didn't take it very well, you didn't see it coming, always thinking that you two were enjoying the relationship equally, but turns out it wasn't as you expected. However, you accepted it, there was nothing you could do but to accept it and set Javi free, deep down, you knew he wasn't meant to be trapped with only one person, he belonged to everyone
• as you watched him take another girl out exactly the same way he has taken you out several times before, you still felt a pang in your chest, sighing at the realization that was bitter as the truth: he'd been the first one you loved, but to him, you were just another girl
____
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal headcanons#javier peña#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x y/n#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña fanfic#javier peña headcanon#javier peña headcanons
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Bright Lights - Timothée Chalamet X Female Reader
Title: Bright Lights
Timothée Chalamet X Female Reader
Additional Characters: Zendaya (Mentioned), Denise Villeneuve (Mentioned), Cynthia: your manager (Mentioned), Jody: the interviewer, and your adoring fans (Mentioned)
Requested by: Anon!
WC: 2,363
Warnings: Reader is mentioned wearing a dress, celebrity Reader, Reader is mentioned to have anxiety, nicknames, secret relationship, slightly suggestive, very small angst, and fluff
Your eyes were closed, your breathing slow and deep as you concentrated on your said breathing. You fiddled with the fabric of your attire, a black dress that you were wearing for the red carpet premiere of ‘Dune: Part 2.’ You had played the lead alongside Zendaya and Timothée - your boyfriend. Well, secret boyfriend. You both treasured privacy and liked to keep both your private life and life in the limelight separate. This had been something you both wanted, and so far it had been working out pretty well for the both of you.
Yes, there had been times when the tabloids would assume and make assumptions about the two of you; digging way too deep into the relationship and scrutinizing the simplest of paparazzi photos. It was stressful, as it was for any celebrity couple, but you both got through it; it helped to communicate and talk things out when one or the other was upset by anything. But you'd deal with all the stress and paparazzi over and over again if it meant that you were with Timothée. He made everything worth it.
Letting out one more breath, you flickered open your eyes and stepped out of the car as the door opened. The roaring and the screaming from the many, many fans seemed to be coming from everywhere as you stood up. They rushed to the rope, arms reaching out, holding things for you to sign or pictures to take. You gave them all your best smile, thanking them and signing as many autographs before you were sent to the carpet.
Going to your first interviewer, you gave the young woman a smile before she spoke, "Y/N, it is so lovely to meet you, my name is Jody, and I'd just like to start out by saying that I love your dress." She complimented, making your smile widen.
"Thank you! I love your outfit too." You replied, seeing Jodi was wearing a simple black suit. Clasping your hands before you, you held onto your bag tightly, feeling a little bit overwhelmed.
"Thank you!" She gushed before getting into the real questions, "Do you mind telling me who made this particular outfit tonight?"
Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke, "Well," You began thoughtfully, looking at your dress. "The dress was made for me by Valentino, and I just have to thank them for doing such an amazing job. I was stunned when I first saw it." You answered, “The jewelry and bag is Gucci, and my shoes are also Valentino.” Jody seemed impressed, nodding her head slightly before she went into her next question.
"How did you get cast into the movie, if you don't mind me asking?" She asked, and you felt yourself become more at ease.
"My manager called me up one day and told me that Denis wanted me to come in for auditions. Cynthia, my manager, never told me what it was for, though I did have a feeling that it might’ve been for the second Dune movie. But it seemed that I did a good job since I was cast." You let out a small laugh, and Jody gave you a smile and a nod, bringing the mic back over to her.
"So, Denis Villeneuve specifically asked you to be in his movie?" She asked, bringing the mic back over to you.
You nodded, shifting your weight slightly, "Yes, he had told me once when we were filming for ‘Dune: Part 2’ that he loved my work in the ‘Transformers’ series and ‘Barbie.’" Your lips quirked upwards into a grin. It was simply phenomenal working on the movie with Denis and the rest of the cast. And I feel very honored to have had the chance to be a part of this, honestly, groundbreaking movie."
"That's amazing, I love those movies, and I have no doubt you are incredible in this movie as well." Jody spoke, "So, I wanted to bring up a little something." Her words made your stomach twist unsurely, you knew what was coming, "There have been rumors that you and Timothée Chalamet are involved in some way, and I'd just like to ask if that rumor is true?"
You could feel your cheeks grow hot, as your eyes glanced down the carpet, seeing Zendaya and Timothée further down. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander over Timothée, wearing a black baggy top, and silver shiny pants. Zendaya wore an amazing robotic-eeque suit, which was mighty impressive. And Timothée looked absolutely handsome, the lights of the multiple cameras flashing as he smiled with Daya by his side.
You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, turning back to the interviewer, "Well, we're just really good friends. Timothée has been my biggest supporter through everything, the same goes for Zendaya, and I feel really lucky to have worked alongside them in this movie." You said as professionally as you could as Jody gave you and nodded in thanks before you were asked to go to your first mark.
Standing before the flashing cameras and paparazzi yelling out your name, you posed and looked at the many cameras as best as you could. Your eyes burned from the constant flashing but your smile never wavered. You had been doing this for a long time, so you were pretty used to it. You were snapped out of your thoughts though when you felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist. Your faux camera-ready smile quickly turned into a real one when you looked over to see Timothée, already looking down at you. His green eyes were soft as they took you in, and you felt yourself melt under his gaze as he gave you a soft, loving smile.
"Hi, Timmy," You greeted your boyfriend, leaning in more toward him subconsciously, hoping he could hear you over all of the people; you felt his grip on you tighten.
"Hello, mon amour," He muttered, his voice deep. His eyes flickered to the cameras, then back to you, "I've missed you," He then said, and you looked up at him once more, giving him a smirk with a small tilt of your head as your eyes glanced from his eyes, to his hair, and back. You had to suppress the urge to run your fingers through his hair. But, you know that you'd have him all to yourself after the premiere was over.
Timothée was feeling ever-so-much the same, the urge to just lean down and kiss you was strong. His hands itched to pull you close, press against your body, and kiss every inch of skin that you could offer until the world fell away. But Timothée had to hold off on doing anything of the sort. He felt his smile widen, his eyes gazing from your eyes, the soft slope of your nose, and down to the smile on your face. He loved your smile. Your smile was breathtaking. He couldn't believe that he was dating you. You. He was so in love with you. He felt so lucky to get to wake up and see you beside him, to share his moments with you, to just be with you. He had no difficulty imagining spending the rest of his life with you.
"We saw each other no more than four hours ago, Timmy," You laughed lightly, breaking him from his thoughts of you as you felt your cheeks heat up from his intense gaze.
Timothée only returned your smirk, “And I’ve been missing you the moment we left the hotel," He turned back to face the cameras, looking like a complete natural. You felt your heart skip a beat at his comment, admiring the way he looked as he smiled at the cameras. You were so proud of him. You felt his hand tighten once more on your waist, his thumb brushing against the soft fabric as he waved to the many cameras with his other hand, "I'll see you inside?" He asked, and you gave him a nod.
"As always," You watched as he looked down at you once more before slipping his arm from your waist and taking your hand in his. Raising your hand to his lips, Timothée kept his beautiful green eyes locked on yours as he pressed a lingering kiss to the back of your hand; leaving you breathless. Reluctantly, he let go, your hand dropping back to your side as he headed to his mark. He got his kiss, and you got yours.
Letting out a happy sigh, you knew there were going to be rumors, tabloids, and whatever else talking about what had transpired but you didn't care. You were just content with having Timothée with you tonight, even for a little while. You could still feel the warmth that his arm had left, and it gave you butterflies in your stomach. You knew when this was all over, you’d be with him again, cuddled in your hotel room, and you couldn’t wait.
Finally, you made it inside the theater, finding Timothée and sitting down beside him. He quickly turned his head when he felt you sit down, giving you that stunning smile of his. You returned the gesture happily, your heart swelling at just the sight of him. As the lights dimmed and the many celebrities around hushed, you felt Timothée's hand land on your thigh; your hand swiftly moved over to cover his. You bit your lip lightly as you let the soft pad of your thumb brush over his knuckles, he then interlocked his fingers with yours just as the film began to play. The intro music echoed throughout the theater, and the first scene began to play out.
How did you get so lucky?
Around more than halfway through the movie, your eyes began to droop. Your head fell to the side and landed on Timothée's shoulder. You tried to fight it, you really did, but you were tired and slightly overwhelmed by the paparazzi and flashing cameras. Timothée turned his head slightly, his nose brushing the crown of your head, a small smile on his face as he gently squeezed your hand.
"I'll wake you when it's over," He whispered to you, gently rubbing his thumb against your wrist, and you hummed quietly in response, "Go to sleep, sweetheart."
You slowly nodded, letting your eyes flutter close. How did he get so lucky?
~~~
When you opened your eyes, you frowned deeply, confused. You sat on your bed, phone in hand, on Tumblr. You looked around your hotel room, saw your TV playing some YouTube video, your clock on your bedside table read ten in the morning, and the sun was sitting high in the sky outside. You felt your shoulders drop, a deep breath falling out between your lips. You dropped your phone onto the mattress, rubbing your tired eyelids with the palms of your hands before you looked around your bedroom.
You were a bit confused, not remembering how you got into bed in the first place. You shut your eyes as you tried to remember the night before, remembering the premiere, but the memories from that event were blurry. It was hard to tell if you actually went to the premiere or if it was all a dream. Such large and public events were a bit stressful for you, and you often had to sleep the overwhelming sense of anxiety away before you could function properly.
But as you opened your eyes, you brought your gaze to the closet door, you spotted the garment bag that hung there; you could see your tan dress inside through the sheer fabric of the bag. Sweeping your gaze back around your room again, you spotted Timothée’s black premiere shirt draped over the hotel room chair; his black shoes were next to your heels by the closet. You sighed heavily, running your hands through your hair. It wasn't a dream, you had gone to the premiere. You knew that your anxiety sometimes caused you to forget details from these big and stressful events, and the more you sat there, the more you began to remember the events of the night before.
Letting out a small sigh of relief, you turned your attention to the other side of your bed, frowning slightly as Timothée wasn't there. Before you got out of bed to get ready for the day, your eyes spotted a small pink sticky note on Timothée's bedside table. Reaching over, you pulled the sticky note from the wooden surface, your small frown turning upside-down at the sight of Timothée's handwriting.
'I got a call from my manager, I didn't want to disturb you. Ordering breakfast whenever you’re ready. Forever yours, T.'
Kicking off the hotel covers, you felt your stomach rumble at the mere thought of food. With a smile, you jumped from the bed and slipped out of the room, your eyes immediately spotting Timothée as he lightly paced around the main area of the hotel suite, phone to his ear as he spoke to his manager. You leaned against the doorway, crossing your leg over the other, your arms crossing as you smiled; watching as Timothée's eyes darted to where you stood, his expression changing instantly as he gave you a second glance.
His face softened as soon as you smiled at him, pausing his pacing, unable to look away from you. Timothée finished whatever he was saying to his manager before hanging up the phone and walking towards you, "Good morning, mon amour," He greeted, stopping in front of you as he tucked your hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek with one of his hands, dipping down slightly to press a loving kiss to your lips, "Sleep well?"
You hummed softly, nodding your head, "Very much so, yes." You replied, pressing your hand against his hand on your cheek, his skin warm and soft under your fingertips.
He chuckled softly, pulling away from your touch and taking your hand in his, leading you backward into the suite. "Ready for breakfast then?"
"Absolutely," You nodded, your chest warming from the overwhelming happiness and adoration that you were feeling, "I'm starving."
---
Main Masterlist | Celebrity Masterlist
#cute#fluff#x reader#slight angst#fanfiction#fanfic#x female reader#request#x you#x y/n#requested#requested by anon#x celebrity reader#dune part two#dune 2024#timothée chalamet#timothee chamalet#timothee fanfic#dune 2#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet x female reader#timothee chalamet x y/n#timothee chalamet x you#dune part 2#timothée x reader
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Real talk
Im sooooo tired of Vox always being portrayed as the victim and Alastor the only one 100% responsible for their friendship falling apart
Did we all suddenly forgot that Vox is a terrible person too? He brainwashes his audience, he supports Val, he is willing to offer his lowest employees for Val to kill, he's also prob abusive to his employees as well, he stalks pretty much everyone, he has like 5 cameras inside Angel's dressing room, also it's like implied he's jealous of Angel because he gets Val's attention, him being jealous of Angel for being a victim of abuse is pretty messed up if you ask me. Oh he also told Sir Pentious to fucking kill himself and he also gets hard of seeing people in pain and get hurt! (Sure it was Alastor but still messed up)
" he looks so sad at the end of stayed gone when Alastor threatens him I feel so bad for him:(("
Really ? Well maybe if he had just kept his little hate boner for Al to himself instead of feeling to need to start publicly slandering him it wouldn't had happened. Just saying. Also I don't see how people feel bad for him. If anything he looks so extremely pathetic it's laughable I want to kick him
Okay this is kinda out of the point I want to make it's just many people who make him the victim seem to forget he's a terrible person so I just wanted to friendly remind everyone that he's as awful as Al ^^
Anyway
I think, we should acknowledge, that it's a complicated, and probably tragic, situation. What if, maybe, they're both as equal at fault for shit going down hills for their friendship. Vox because he doesn't respect others wishes and cannot take no for an answer, he prob tried forcing Al to move on with recent technology, which Al hates. ((His request to Al to join the Vees also prob meant catching up with the nowdays stuff and new technology, like the rest of them)) and Al because he was prob unnecessary cruel and brutal with his rejection.
I don't think Al was just using Vox like I've seen many people say. He allowed Vox to take a picture of them together. For Al to do that I think it confirms their friendship was genuine. "Ah but it's Alastor so that means it was fake cuz he's an evil manipulative bastard who only cares for him-" You're wrong, but also right lol. He's an evil manipulative bastard, but , he's also capable of genuine friendships with others (( did y'all forget Rosie lol? )). What I think happened is that, time passed , things changed. Vox became obsessed with new technology and tried to force Al to follow in, Al didn't like that, but instead of communicating with eachother and solving their problems by talking it out and respect eachother's wishes, they had an unnecessary argument and fight. They're both to blame for this, they're no victims in the situation and it's okay you can still sympathise with eithers side
Also people who make Al the villain for like not returning Vox's confession and feelings in most One sided Radiostatic videos/fics I've seen-- yikes.. I really hate that I have to literally say to PLEASE don't villiantise the aroace character for being aroace and rejecting confessions. It's extremely ace/arophonic (and yes I get to have a say to this, I'm a replused aroace videos/fics like this genuinely make me feel negative emotions) even if he was extremely cruel with his rejection -- villiantise the fact that he's an asshole- not his rejection.
yes I agree!! this is essentially a consolidation of points I've made before ksdlfglg
like yes, alastor's an absolute shithead but I think there are some people who forget that vox is also... not a good person. I don't think there's anything wrong with there being sympathetic aspects to vox but I feel like there's such a huge amount of fanwork where he's the only one portrayed sympathetically without showing his own bad points in their relationship, and I absolutely hate it when alastor is fully blamed for how vox is now and vox is seen as
yeah
vox got pissy at a rejection, that's not being able to take no for an answer, that's incel behaviour LMAO
feel like there's something to be said about people feeling the need to sympathise with the one with unrequited feelings compared to the one who has to deal with someone expecting romance from them when they don't feel the same. does it have to do with society's expectations about romance that unrequited feelings are more sympathisable?
but yeah I am glad that at least the "complicated" part of the description of their relationship implies to me it won't be as simple as "vox was the poor victim and alastor was just using him", I think it is much more interesting if there's no clear victim and both were at fault in a way
#ask#osrs.txt#I'm gonna avoid heavy tagging because I don't wanna attract discourse#onewaybroadcast#okay to rb if you want though
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Apparently unpopular opinion.
I love that Rhaenyra was portrayed as more of a bit of a tomboy in the show. Rebellious to everything, including the social constructs expected of her. And I genuinely did love a lot of her dresses and jewelry.
However she should've had more dresses- they shouldn't have repeated as often as they did. And she had no consistency to her costumes- no personalized sense of style, except for with the 3 younger red dresses and the last 2 black dresses. They should've also done far more w her hair.
Emma is perfect as Rhaenyra. They're gorgeous in the way of Greek statues of the divine. Their bone structure is *regal.* and Milly is just absolutely lovely as well, especially in eps 3, 4, and 5, and in her riding and hunting leathers.
Plus they both genuinely care about Rhaenyra as a character- it's so obvious in every interview they've done. Rhaenyra was perfectly cast- as was Daemon, Harwin, and the Velaryon both and dragon twins (and Corlys)
I hate the show for a lot of things, but all of these reasons make me at least tolerate it.... also the dragon designs are incredible. Syrax is *spectacular.*
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I just discovered the call of duty fandom and let me tell you I never read so much fanfic and hc in a week!!!
I will probably never play the game but I will still love those characters till my last breath. I am living for the cod cosplay community on TikTok and yes I was dragged there by the sheer power of our leader,✨💕Brittany Broski 💕✨
So here some fic/hc ideas I would love to read about but didn’t find🥲
• cod men going to the ren faire with reader who’s super excited and make the men dress up too (Simon dressed in a armor 🫠) ( the 141 that decided to go as a team with reader and they all play along and coordinate their outfits)
• gamer cod men that teach reader how to play and are super kind about it (bonus if in exchange reader tech them how to play cozy games like “animal crossing” or “a little to the left”
• cod men doing a date at the museum and reader is just a history nerd and basically do a guided tour and the men are just listening and be like: yup I am in love!
• cod men and reader drinking tea on the outside tables of a cafe and just gossiping about life and people that walked by (soap and reader with sunglasses just judging everyone like nobody could hear them and randomly dropping a “smash” every time someone hot pass them)
• (this one is especially for soap and it’s based on this TikTok https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGe9Taj72/ )
Just soap putting a kilt on at every single opportunity he gets because he loves it so much and reader had once said that they like it on him . So that’s how you get soap just rocking the kilt at almost every events they go together and of course, more than one time, there was a LOT of wind (Scotland is windy as fuck) and him being the idiot that he is and never learning from his mistakes, ended up butt naked in front of the whole wedding/party/baptism/family dinner/formal evening with the 141 … (he is a total idiot but I love him)
• cod men when reader put on the broski report every time they take the car and it’s just the both of them being super invested in what Brittany is saying. Bonus if it’s the first time reader put it on and of course it’s one of those episodes where she’s saying the most random shit and the proceeds to talk about religion and philosophy and they’re just there driving being like: “ I don’t know what this woman is saying but she did make some very good points” just becoming massives fan and buying matching sweatshirts with the broski report logo on it for them and reader. And yes, they start quoting her every day and it confuses everybody else!
Well, this was longer than I was expecting (that’s what she said) but for a first real post I’m pretty happy about it! Hope you enjoyed it and If by miracle someone found this post and want to use one of the prompts/hc feel free to use it! (Just tag me so I can see the results !)
✨💕have a nice day everybody!!!💕✨
(Sorry English is not my first language 😅)
#cod mw2#call of duty#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#soap x reader#john mctavish x reader#ghost x reader#john price#captain price#price x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader#konig cod#konig x reader#brittany broski#the broski report#masked men will be the death of me#cod cosplay#writing promt#hc#random idea
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Another World Ogiri November 2023 [What are Knuckles and Sonic doing...? ]
★Example
“You must have been gooey at first!”
Two characters appear every month in surprising outfits and situations! Let's enjoy Ogiri together with illustrations that will make your imagination run wild!
This time, the defender with the proof of victory, Knuckles, the fighting king, takes on the sonic clown, the challenger Sonic! The outcome of the dream match where power and speed collide is...! ?
What kind of lines or narration would you use?
You can style it based on the atmosphere and world view of the two of you in the game, or you can create a bold arrangement! In the example, it seems that Sonic is having trouble with being too free... Even if it's a gleeful joke from such a point of view, it's OK!
Please enjoy it and tweet with the tag "#Isekai Ogiri" on Twitter (X) ♪
We will introduce the good ones in a reply from Sonic's official Twitter (X) account.
We are looking forward to your fun Ogiri posts!
Act11: “An unforgettable rival”
"This belt is just for me! That's right!"
"'Knuckles! Knuckles! Oooooooo!"
Raising his championship belt and roaring towards the audience is Knuckles the Echiduna, the red echidna fighting king. With a large crowd filling the arena, the champion's performance will heat up the venue.
“Ladies & Gentlemen! The long-awaited title match is finally here!”
The robot referee ``Omochao'' also flew around the ring, further enlivening the venue.
"Knuckles, the undefeated absolute defender, will the title be replaced today!? The featured challenger enters! The clown at the speed of sound...Sonic the Hedgehog!"
"Hey! Looks like you're doing well, knucklehead!"
The challenger, a blue hedgehog, appeared illuminated by a spotlight and landed dashingly on top of the corner post.
Sonic, dressed in a colorful clown suit and performing spectacular acrobatics on the spot, greeted Knuckles and the audience with an exaggerated pose and a fearless smile. The audience seats were also excited.
Knuckles says he's a nasty bastard and hits both Kobushi and glares at the challenger...
"Did I meet you somewhere? I don't care, but I don't think you'll be easy on me."
Sonic and Tails trace the source of the energy and arrive at this venue, but they find Knuckles, the "King of Fighters," there.
He also seems to have a Chaos Emerald that has mutated into a "Champion Belt"... but even with that power, there is no sign that he will regain his memories after seeing Sonic and the others.
"Why? There's also a reaction from the Chaos Emeralds."
"He's always been a gullible guy, and the effects of strange things may be strong... Well, just look at him! If you give that stone head a shot, he'll remember it."
...So, Sonic challenged Knuckles to a fight as a "challenger".
"Knuckles! Knuckles!"
The ringside was filled with rumblings as people cheered for Knuckles. Sonic glanced at the crowd waiting anxiously for the gong to start the match, and with light steps that could be seen as a provocation, he closed the distance to Knuckles...
"Whoa, challenger Sonic! What on earth are you planning on doing!?"
He slowly opened his fist and grinned, and countless balls appeared between his fingers. As if by magic, he threw one ball high into the air, and it flew over the corner post of the ring at high speed, demonstrating a spectacular ball juggling act.
The audience held their breath as they watched this unexpectedly high-level performance. Eventually, the balls piled up one after another in front of Knuckles' nose, and...
＜＜Pon! >>
When all the balls popped, Flicky, a blue bird, was perched there, looking around. Knuckles jumps in surprise and Flicky flies away.
“Did you like the little greeting from the newcomer?”
"Y-you bastard...!"
After giving a mischievous wink, Sonic grins again.
Laughter leaked out from the audience seats. Afterwards, a rain of applause showers down on the ring, praising the spectacular performance.
"'Wow, that's amazing!'" "You totally pissed Knuckles off!" "Sonic! Sonic!"
"...Tenmeee!"
Sonic speaks to Knuckles, who is shaking his fists and showing his anger, from atop the ring post.
``I don't dislike the away atmosphere, but I just don't like it when I'm losing to you in the audience.''
Before I knew it, the cheers that had been dominated by the champions had turned into a 50-50 split in just a few seconds. Knuckles is bread! He slaps his cheeks with both hands, burning his fighting spirit towards Sonic.
“We get along well, I was just thinking you wouldn’t like me either!”
"Knuckles! Knuckles!" "Sonic! Sonic!"
"Let's both be in high spirits in the ring and in the audience! Now, let's start the match!"
<<Khan! >>
A gong sounded throughout the venue, signaling the start of the match.
The two stare at each other in the center of the ring. Knuckles keeps his eyes on Sonic as he moves around quickly.
Knuckles judges the timing and hits an accurate and fiery straight, but Sonic narrowly evades him. As for Sonic, he keeps increasing his speed in an attempt to break Knuckles' stance, which he doesn't like...
"Blue Tornado!"
It spins around Knuckles at high speed with a blue afterimage. He creates a powerful tornado and launches Knuckles high into the sky, then launches a zigzag run-up and spin attack!
＜＜Gashi! >>
Everyone expected a clean hit due to the intense sound of the impact, but...
"Shame for you"
Knuckles, who blocked Sonic's attack by sandwiching his fists between his fists, showed his teeth and grinned, then slammed Sonic to the ground with great force.
"Volcanic, dunk!"
<< Zugoon! >>
The explosion and shock that erupts as the bullet hits the ground. Sonic was launched into the air by the recoil, but there was no visible damage, probably because the impact was dispersed by the high-speed spin, and he quickly regained his balance.
“Oraoraoraaaaaah!”
"Hey! I guess I won!"
Knuckles is in hot pursuit and Sonic is dodging him... Red and blue trajectories passing each other in the air engage in a fierce battle.
"S-Great battle Chao!"
"'Wow, that's amazing!'"
Omochao, along with the audience, cries out in surprise as the live commentary can't keep up with the high-level, high-speed battle. Everyone can't help but cry out in the face of this battle.
"Well, you're still as stupid as ever... But it has to be like this!"
A powerful, fearless and worthy adversary. Before Sonic knew it, he found himself in an unusually excited mood during this serious battle with Knuckles, and he couldn't help but smile bitterly.
"You're an angry bastard, but you'll do it! I've been waiting for someone like you!"
And so was Knuckles. My body moved on its own in the face of a sharp onslaught and speed that I should have never experienced before. For some reason, my heart was warmed by a mysterious and nostalgic uplifting spirit.
"(It's still not like this... Give me the best blow to defeat him!)"
That moment when our mutual excitement reached its climax...!
“It’s time to go to the finale!”
"It's top notch!"
In response to the furious kick unleashed from a top-speed sonic spin, the punch of the fist was like an explosion from an active volcano. Their best blows collide with each other.
<<<< Dogaan! ＞＞＞＞
A clean hit to each other's faces...! The two people collapsed at the same time, and the cheers were louder than ever.
"""Ooooo!"" ""Knuckles! Knuckles!"" "Sonic! Sonic!"
"Ryo, both of you are down! Chao counts! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."
"Two...."
In the noisy audience, Tails can't help but clench his fists, as if praying, waiting for the two to return.
"I... Tee!!"
"Oh my god! They got up almost at the same time... Ciao~!?"
Wake up at the same time. But Knuckles was the first to speak.
Knuckles ran up to Sonic, not noticing that he had blown up his toychao in the process, and said this while holding his kicked head.
"What are you doing, Sonic! What are you looking like?"
"...Huh? Tails, it happened like you said, right?"
Knuckles was looking at Sonic with a proud face while stroking his cheek where he was punched, but he suddenly remembered something and let out a scream.
"Yes, listen to me! While I was destroying Eggman's factory, I found a strange monster underground!"
Knuckles is pointing under the ring, as if time has stopped and started moving.
"This guy's in the way... Oh!"
A flash of spirit!
<< Zugone! >>
When he swings his fist at his feet, the ring is blown away along with the floor with the impact. After the swirling debris and dust settled, what I saw below was...
It was a large gaping hole that was still collapsing from the inside in a chain reaction into a huge underground space.
The two of them stare at the hole in amazement, ignoring the noisy audience seats. Breaking the silence, Tails's energy detector makes a loud noise.
＜＜Pipipi! Pipipi! >>
At the same time, a heavy tremor erupts from the depths of the earth...! The area around the hole began to collapse, and the venue became noisy.
"It looks like the energy flow is heading deeper into this hole...! We have to hurry!"
"Ah! ...But wait a minute."
Knuckles snatched the microphone from Omochao, who had stumbled back, and called out to the confused audience:
"Hey, you guys! I'm sorry, but I've gotten into a bit of a wild situation! I'm sure you have a lot to say, but please leave this place to me and evacuate!"
After giving a shout, he shoves the microphone at Omochao and forces him to take charge of the evacuation.
“I-I don’t know what it is, but everyone just runs away~!”
"'Knuckles is saying hello! Run!'" "'Ooooooooooo!'" "'Knuckles! Knuckles! ......'"
"Wow... everyone's gone."
Knuckles smiled at Tails, who was overcome with admiration and was stunned, and then turned to face the dark, deep hole he was heading towards and silently looked down at it.
"...It turned into a forfeited match."
Before he knew it, Sonic was standing behind Knuckles, pretending to be disappointed, and laughing.
"Hey! No matter how you look at it, I won, but you can try it again."
“That’s my line!”
With that said, Sonic jumps into the hole first, followed by Tails. Knuckles chased after it and jumped into the hole, smiling wryly and saying,
"We really get along well, don't we?"
"Cognitive frictional energy"
What the three people saw after passing through the hole was an unusual landscape that they had never imagined. A huge, cylindrical, dark underground cavity about 100 meters in diameter and depth...
At its bottom is a huge white parabolic antenna that looks straight up and is exactly the diameter of this cavity, and in the center of it stands a large conical glass tower like a rocket, emitting dazzling light. I was doing it.
"this is......!?"
Sonic grabbed hold of Tails as he flew, and Knuckles used his specialty to glide, observing the strange sight as they slowly and carefully descended.
＜＜Pipipi! Pipipi! >>
As you descend, the unknown energies that are gathering from various otherworldly areas gradually increase in strength. By the time Sonic and his friends descended halfway down the shaft, it had become a visible torrent of countless purple lights.
"Wow, that's amazing...it's similar to the power of the Phantom Ruby though..."
Tails couldn't figure out what this energy was. However, in the midst of this flow, the moment Tails saw visions of different worlds in various places flickering up and down, emitting intense sparks, a great realization came to him.
"I see! I understand!"
Tails was so surprised that Sonic almost threw him off, and the truth he told him was shocking.
Sonic and his friends' "stars" have been forcibly overwritten with their own perception of countless otherworldly images held by various people using the Phantom Ruby weapon. The gap in perception between the star's original reality and this otherworldly reality was putting a strain on the star, causing it to generate a huge amount of energy.
"So...I guess we should call it 'cognitive frictional energy'...Eggman's purpose was to steal this from all over the world!"
Just as Tails finished his explanation, the three of them landed on the plate of the giant parabolic antenna at the bottom of the cavity and looked up in silence.
"Cognitive frictional energy" coming from all over the world is received by this antenna, gently reflected, and collected at the tip of the central glass tower. The energy converged there could be seen to fall intermittently and be stored in the bulge at the base of the tower.
"He's still a top-notch guy when it comes to doing stupid things."
"Yeah. He's the one who walks around with his clothes on."
Sonic and Knuckles are stunned, but can't hide their bitter smiles on the one hand and their irritation on the other.
"Look at the base of the tower! There's so much energy gathering that it's distorting the space around it... It's enough power to destroy this planet four times!"
Tails tells Sonic and the others with a serious expression.
“What should I do?”
"Well, that energy hasn't been activated yet, so if you release it from the fixed field, the star will self-repair and the events will flow backwards..."
"...Tell me so I can understand, Tails!"
“Anyway, I guess it’s okay if we just destroy it.”
"Well, actually, Knuckles is right... Let's destroy that thing, release the energy, and restore the world to normal!"
“Oh, leave it to me!”
Knuckles rolls up his sleeves and heads towards the tower in high spirits. Sonic saw it off with a bitter smile for a while, but...
“Well, this guy has to be like this.”
I looked at his back and nodded with a smile, and followed him in good spirits.
...... Eventually, the three of them arrive at the base of the tower, where countless otherworldly visions flicker around them, and they sigh once again at its majesty.
The light leaking out of the tank-like shape and the image of another world are like the screams of something. The three of them took up their position with Knuckles in the middle, and finally made up their minds.
"It's made of a very strong crystal, but I think Knuckles' power can break it."
"It's nice to have stupid power. You don't have to think about anything."
"At least thank that idiot for today. Let's go!"
Just when Knuckles raised his clenched fist high and was about to swing it down forcefully!
<<Bashuuu>>
The tank glowed exceptionally brightly, emitting a blinding white flash.
"Wow!"
In the next moment, a purple pillar of light several tens of meters in diameter pierced from the tank to the tip of the tower, and from the tip far into the sky.
"W-what is this...!"
In the meantime, only a few seconds. After that, a silent tower and silence reigned over the area. And a loud, familiar voice echoes from the sky...
"Ho, ho, ho! You came all the way to this place, you damn hedgehogs! You had a good sight, but it seems you were a little too late."
"Eggman!?"
Sonic and his friends look at the sky.
``It's true that this situation is the result of my genius plan. This is 'give and take.' In return for delivering a fun parallel world to everyone, I gain enormous amounts of energy and use this most powerful weapon. That doesn't mean it's completed."
"The strongest weapon!? Something that uses that much energy...?"
Perhaps satisfied with Tails's voice, Eggman gets excited and raises his voice.
"If you can stop me, try to stop me. I'll use Kisama and the others as testing grounds for this most powerful weapon and turn them into trash!"
＜＜Gogogogo...! >>
"Wow!"
As the ground rumbles, countless plant branches and roots spring up from under their feet at an abnormal speed, and before they know it, Sonic and his friends are pushed to the ground, along with the parabolic antenna that has turned into a giant flower.
“!?”
"No way...! Are you creating a different world locally?"
“It’s a mess!”
When they returned to the ground, they found a scene that looked like a hybrid of a chemical plant that had been converted into an energy facility and a sinister plant, and...and then...the ground trembled behind the three of them. When they turned around, they saw a purple-golden giant towering over them.
"This is Eggman's ultimate weapon...!?"
The curtain of a terrible battle was about to be cut off.
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uncle bert and aunt gracie are such well developed characters! i love them so much. they are such a gorgeous couple and you can see their love for each other on screen so clearly. the way that they take care of max too! the haircut scene! my heart melts every time they’re on screen.
#i need another season of aloto so that i can see more of them#they are both such well dressed characters as well!#aloto#a league of their own#aloto 2022#max chapman#renew aloto#uncle bertie#uncle bert#lea robinson#patrice covington#aunt gracie#gracie hart#bertie and gracie
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