#//he doesn't deserve her nonsense

[randomnameless]

didn't heroes say rhea turns fallen when she despairs because she will never see sothis again?

Heroes did!

Just like that weird "call me by name call me immaculate one plz" thing that makes Nopes' Sothis exchange with Flayn completely nonsensical, the "Rhea became berserk because she despaired and felt like Sothis would never return" felt like a quick fix-it made with adhesive tape and the contents of a gummy bear.

Like, this doesn't explain why Rhea doesn't become red in VW.

And you won't make me believe that she wasn't despairing the hell out of it after witnessing Zanado and being its lone survivor, nor after seeing whatever remained of Sothis after Nemesis deboned her.

We can make a point about her being more "angry" than desperate, same as in CF when Seteth'n'Flayn kick the bucket - even if her mental state's pretty low and precarious at this point - but then, VW still stands, as in, Rhea realises after eating missiles and "zumba'ing for 5 years in Enbarr's finest 5 stars resort" that her Mother never gave a flying fuck about the remaining Nabateans, or her role as the Goddess, and yet, she doesn't become red.

(Hell, you can even make a point that it's Billy who wants to save her, and went out of their way to "try to help" her during GM's assault, not Worst Mom!)

Seteth mentions in SS' finale that he already saw her red (but not in her second "red with vines" form!) and she managed to return to normal, so it's just...

As Seiros the Warrior, she despaired - but not too much - a bit and turned Red, but Cichol and the other Saints where here to make her snap out of it? But somehow, they cannot in SS and Seteth straight out says Billy has to kill her, even if, when he says this, she hasn't turned in her second form yet, aka, she's as red as she was during her Seiros the Warrior days?

Frankly IDK, and given how this route was the one that apparently was written first and served as a basis for the rest of the game, well, idk what to tell you anon.

It is frustrating, but as in "welp Tellius' writers wrote something and its contrary in the same game!" but more as in "they had to cook in the microwave a watsonian reason to explain why this final boss exists", and FEH just added 30 seconds.

Sure it's enough to make your gummy bear melt, but honestly, who's going to be satisfied with that?

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

Watching Severance does feel a bit like reading a fic with 15000 word chapters that are almost entirely world-building and setup and there are only 2/47 chapters published and those came out 3 years apart

[thenecropolix]

Don't mind me, thinking about a what if scenario where the cutscene of Hollis and Raz have the conversation about being a psychonaut stays the same except Raz gives Hollis a hug when she finishes her spiel while kneeling down to his level

[star-ocean-peahen]

After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ "You Can Have My Last Name" — Zaunites x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: I'm pretty sure this idea is like. Everywhere by now. But people from Zaun/the Undercity don't really have surnames so plot is basically what if Reader offered up theirs. Simple and cute type stuff idk I wanted some fluff

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Viktor

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Mentioned the nature of his lack of a surname rather casually, while venting about how Piltover kept trying to say his paperwork was 'invalid' for lacking one. He explained to you that it was common for anyone in the Undercity, and that most from there didn't have one at all

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More confused than anything when you offer yours, or he at least pretends to be. The truth is the idea flustered him coming from you so casually, so to cope he acted like he didn't know what you were implying

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Thinks about it for several weeks afterwards, subconsciously mulls over how your name would sound paired with his in his mind. He writes it down a few times too, just to test it out. Finds out pretty quickly that he likes the sound of it

Vi

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't miss the implications a bit, as a matter of fact she IMMEDIATELY flirts back by asking if you'd really give your precious name to any pretty face you come across

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Teases you about the idea relentlessly any time the subject of names is brought up, or in any way she can really. Often makes jokes that she's gonna make a fool out of the name

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Secretly actually very honored that you'd offer it up to her but she doesn't feel like admitting that yet, you're gonna have to deal with jokey teasing for a good while first

Jinx

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Snarkily says she wouldn't be a good fit for your name to hide the fact that she really doesn't think she deserves to be considered a part of your life

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ohh, you might be crazy too if you're gonna give it to someone like me"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Feels kinda bad that she wouldn't have anything like that to offer you in return. She loves the idea of having a family to belong to again, but her own self doubt gets in the way of admitting that to herself

Ekko

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh- uh- what??"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genuinely very caught off guard. Not at all in a bad way, he just doesn't know how to respond to such a sudden and blatant flirt. Quickly tries to think of something to say as you're chuckling and reassuring him it's okay

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He ends up telling you through his fluster that it's not really gonna bring you any good to proudly announce a Zaunite as part of your family name. But in the end, he gives you a soft smile and says it's a nice thought he isn't against

Sevika

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Is that so?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More keen on the idea than you'd might think- tells you it wouldn't be such a bad idea, but you'd have to prove it's a name worth adopting first, teasingly daring you to make it a name you'd both be proud to wear

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Tells you to reconsider once or twice, but mostly because she loves seeing how determined you get when defending her right to bear your name

Silco

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't pick up on what you're implying at first at all, simply tells you that isn't how that works and you're talking nonsense

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You have to prod into the implications a little more to get him to finally register what you're actually trying to say. It takes him a moment, but when he catches on he falls silent for a while

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ends up mildly tripping over his words while telling you he's not really someone to give such an important thing to, and that you should get a better head on your shoulders and keep focused (largely to hide the fact that the offer genuinely caught him off guard. He's never gonna stop thinking about it)

Vander

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Actually not against the idea. Seems to chuckle it off at first, but once he realizes you're being serious he fondly mulls over the idea with you while cleaning up for the night

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Recognizes the idea might not be very feasible, but hey, what's wrong with having hope? Everyone's allowed to have dreams to chase, right? No harm in chasing this one together, then

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Promises that once things are settled down enough that he'll try to make it happen with you. As long as the kids he takes in are all alright with you, of course

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration AU

Based so very loosely on this glorious art by @nibbelraz

Airplane transmigrates into the youngest infant son of the Shang family (and God damn he deserves better than this System he is their god!! Daddy Airplane?? Heard of him?? These people should not be changing his damn diaper hello??)

Shang Qinghua is already a young disciple when he visits home and meets his little brother for the first time and does no one else see there is something... off about this kid?

He makes regular trips home afterwards, eventually using An Ding logistics to find reasons to be near his hometown more frequently (and really does no one else see this kid is weird?)

Bby!Airplane is just too smart. SQH is convinced he saw the kid make eye contact with him once when he caught him stealing a dumpling behind their mother's back and it was like looking into the eyes of a demon who'd gut him if he snitched and not a human toddler

It doesn't get better as Airplane gets older and SQH hears him muttering about 1. things he shouldn't know at all regarding the sect when he thinks SQH isn't listening and 2. absolute nonsense (what System has done you so wrong didi?? you are four??)

Before Airplane is old enough to reasonably join the sect, SQH brings him back to the mountain anyway. He is fairly certain his brother is a seer and if that's the case, he's keeping the little welp close at hand

Airplane infinitely regrets how much bullshit he made An Ding deal with to ""hand wave lazy writing"" (shut up peerless cucumber!! he was writing porn not project management!!) but even just watching SQH run himself ragged over the peak has bby him exhausted (no wonder he ratted y'all out to the king yeesh)

He spends his early years as a disciple just following SQH and sometimes nudging his gege into record shattering discoveries because SQH will pat his head when he realizes and take him down the mountain for noodles afterwards (gg easy)

Airplane is a proper disciple in his own right in his teens when his notes and his story get jumbled in a way that has him tripping into one of his shixiongs when he hears the rumors - Head Disciple SJ returned to the mountain with a little brother (record screech glass shattering huh???)

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan transmigrated into Shen Jiu's unnamed younger half-brother After finding stability at the sect, Shen Jiu looks into his birth mother, knowing she sold him off when he was a child What he finds in Airplane's unwritten notes is a Fantine-Cosette backstory where his mother, a courtesan, gave him away to a good family after he was born. She sent them regular payments to ensure his care, but only found out when she was pregnant with SY that they had sold SJ off and were pocketing her money Unable to find SJ and unwilling to risk SY, she and the other courtesans raised SY within the brothel SY transmigrates into the body of a child at his sick mother's bedside with a twisted sense of deja vu having just vacated his own deathbed He doesn't know where he is, but if the orphan protagonist can make it to the sect, so can he right? (Transmigrator Halo? System? System why are you laughing??) He's barely into his second teens when SJ finds him. It takes no time at all after learning the truth for SJ to demand SY's guardianship and whisk him back to Qing Ding (See System? He DOES have a Transmigrator Halo, even if it is attached to the scum villain) SY is honestly shocked by how concerned(?) SJ is when packing his meager possessions. (No Jiu-ge (ew) no one has ever harmed him or touched him wtf would make you think they had?? He's baby??) It takes some time for glaciers to melt and for SJ to let SY in, but SY was raised around kind jiejies who taught him to be better than their worst clients and SJ feels safe around this little brat in a way he can't explain (SJ has had SY for five minutes but if anything happens to him SJ is taking out the entire mountain and then himself) YQY has NO idea how to react when SJ first returns with his brother, but he doesn't hesitate to smooth the way for SY's discipleship and watches from afar as SJ begins to finally let someone in, even if it's not him

SQH keeps telling Airplane he needs to work on his muttering to himself, that it's going to get him in trouble (bro you don't even know) but for once it's in his favor because SY overhears him just enough while YQY is sorting his shit out on arrival and suddenly they're just two spidermen pointing at each other on the peak

Cue the shenanigans of two hometown boys who have no bearing on the plot at all and are just along for the ride while their siblings handle the peaks. Anytime Qing Ding and An Ding need to work together on missions, these two volunteer and confuse the hell out of their martial siblings every step of the way

SJ does not trust the little logistics rat anywhere near his didi and glowers like an alley cat anytime Airplane is around (SQH is right, ofc. His brother IS weird and SJ does not trust it)

SQH meanwhile takes note of his weird didi's sudden and first friendship with SY and immediately starts keeping tabs on this kid because clearly Airplane's seerhood has steered him to SY for a reason, must keep note

The first time LQG makes any sort of fuss about SJ going to a brothel, SY forgets everything he's learned at the sect as Little Brother Mode™ activates to defend not only SJ but his jiejies too. (Fists are thrown. Hair is pulled. He might have bitten his shixiong, he can't say. He sort of blacked out for a minute there) Needless to say there isn't a second time and LQG has an hour long argument with his shizun about trying to poach SY for Bai Zhan peak while nursing a black eye (Airplane just side eying the GREMLIN that transmigrated here like bro wtf)

Before LBH even steps foot on the mountain, both their Systems ping about the incoming protagonist and it's not that they, you know, forgot about the story but they were distracted. Between finding each other and actually weirdly coming to care for these NPCs they... lost track of time

But the System pings and LBH enters the scene and SY refuses to let Airplane's work repeat itself (we're making your notes canon bro stfu and follow my lead. (what lead??? what plan??) I'm working on it!!)

It's a 50/50 crap shoot if SYs favoritism of bby!Binghe endears him to SJ or spikes up the resentment, but SY refuses to let harm come to LBH or for SJ to become the scum villain (someone is yelling, it might be SJ, it might be SY, it might be Binghe who doesn't want Shizun and Shixiong fighting over him)

On the other side of the plot, SQH is still a little snitch, even with his didi's visions guiding him to unprecedented success - but it's more than betraying the sect, more than wanting power and recognition. Seers are insanely powerful, highly sought after. Bringing Airplane to the sect protected him for awhile but SQH can't let him become a target. So when the OG meets MBJ, all his calculations come to a single unfortunate answer: throw your lot in with the biggest fish to protect Airplane (no one else can understand how weird his brother is because if they do his brother will end up dead)

Flash forward to when Airplane is squinting at his brother wearing fur collars year round, always running a little bit chilly for unknown reasons but refusing to see MQF about it. Airplane insists on SQH letting him check his meridians if he won't see MQF and SQH relents, puts his wrist in Airplane's hand, and squawks like a goddamn chicken when Airplane yanks his arm and tugs down his collar to reveal the mark of MBJ on his collarbone and SQH is once again met with that dead eyed 'bro do not fuck with me' stare

SQH does not question how Airplane knows, he just insists on Airplane staying far far away from MBJ (he might work for the demon, but he certainly does not trust him)

Of course Airplane defies all reason and knows the exact secret rendezvous point SQH uses (he did not suffer puberty twice to be denied seeing his most precious creation in the flesh, gege) and is spotted spying on the spy almost instantly by MBJ who is just holding him by his scruff and looking between a wide eyed Airplane and a barely-restrained-panicked peak lord like 'why oh why are there two of them'

Cue a full stand off between a demon and peak lord, ice knives at SQH's throat, a blade hovering at MBJ's heart, and Airplane just held like a kitten between them like fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck that SOMEHOW ends with MBJ rationalizing 'ah this weird mouse is important to my viper of a spy - if I want to keep the viper loyal, I will protect this mouse'

Which throws the Sheng brothers into a mess that neither of them know how to deal with. SQH thinks he needs to continue to be excessively useful to keep Airplane safe. Airplane can't let MBJ know he's his brother's best source or the demon might cut out the middle man. (Meanwhile somewhere MBJ just out here planning to court this weird little mouse to tie SQH's loyalties to him)

Whatever circumstances causes the Abyss plotline to trigger, SY 500% throws himself in after Binghe leaving SJ partially feral because his didi is in danger, Airplane CONCERNED, and SQH just casually like 'oh that's why my brother was interested in him, interesting' not at all realizing no, SY is likely just about to become his boss(-brother-in-law)'s boss's consort - whoops! whoops! whoops!

[pha55ed]

Nonsense Christmas || F1/F2

type :: smut!

tw/cw :: smut!, hot women in minimal clothing!!!, sexual jokes,

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: you get offered to do a photoshoot for christmas which is awesome! but the drivers then find out it's a lingerie shoot and lose their minds

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

yourusername : so excited to announce my collab with savage x fenty! this design is so cute and perfect for girlys to surprise their bfs (or gfs) in! which is what im doing rn! hi carlos 👋😊

→ user 01: OH MY GAWWWD??? JAW ON THE FLOOR

⎯→ user 02: Carlos gotta be able to fight or else imma snatch her away

→ carlossainz55: you look lovely! (answer the phone now)

⎯→ yourusername: thank you!! (no, im scared

→ user 03: her face card is so lethal

→ user 04: she's this generations it girl omfg

The second you answered his calls, Carlos was hyperventilating. It was like you could practically hear how feral he was going after seeing your photoshoot. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him going crazy. Your surprise went perfectly!

"I'm coming home now," He says sternly, "Unlock all the doors, I'm running in."

"Well that doesn't sound very safe." You say, trying to joke with him. Thank god he couldn't see you in person or else he would see how wide you were grinning at his words.

"Oh shut up, wait for me on the bed" He says as he hangs up.

You did your job and now all you had to do was wait- Oh my fucking god he's at the door already. You can't even say anything before he's all up on you, getting ready to berate you for looking too good for the world's eyes.

"I missed you" He mumbles as he kisses your neck eagerly. His hands roaming down to your ass, giving it a squeeze which makes you laugh. But he's not smiling at all. You knew what was gonna happen and you didn't care.

Charles Leclerc | 16

yourusername : the victoria secret winter showcase was such a blast! loved seeing all my girls again and esp all you guys! i wouldn't be here without you <3 happy holidays to all

→ user 01: MOTHER IS BACK!!!!

⎯→ user 02: Literally the best walk in the whole show

→ charles_leclerc: i will go to war for you

⎯→ user 03: she awoken his primal instincts

→ user 04: will we see you again??? u were SLAYINGGG

⎯→ yourusername: duh! see you next year <3

→ user 04: she's beautiful, humble, and with a rich boyfriend? when is it my turn

The second you got off stage, Charles was doing his absolute best to compose himself. Seeing you still in your lingerie set, cute little hat and gloves made him pants feel so tight. You kept wanting to say goodbye to all the girls, thanking the staff, being your usual self. This is the one time Charles was wishing you would keep your mouth shut and rush home.

Once you both were out, he rushed you into the car. But not the passenger seat, instead he pushed you into the back seats. He quickly followed you, unbuckling his belt and staring at your body.

"Charles!" You say, shocked at how desperate this man was. "We can't! People are gonna see-"

"And?" He says as he rips his belt off and begins to unbutton his shirt. "My windows are tinted, amor, no one will see."

He's hands are quick, instantly getting your clothes off too. Once he saw the same white lacy set you were wearing earlier, he can't help but grin like crazy. He was worshipping the ground you walked on. Practically licking your footsteps.

"I'm so so lucky," He groans, his hands caresses your body with such care. "So so lucky."

Lando Norris | 04

yourusername : skim's winter collection is out!!! And I'm part of it! So happy to show off these sets to the world ❤️

→ user 01: body is TEAAAA

⎯→ user 02: the body of my dream fr fr

→ landonorris: but when i wear ur bras I'm a slut???

⎯→ yourusername: u got no boobs to deserve a bra

⎯→ landonorris: so ur calling me skinnyyyyyyy?

→ user 03: slayed so hard that dinosaurs r extinct

⎯→ yourusername: don't blame me for that :(

→ user 04: can't believe lando is just... joking around... do u think this is a fucking game? you think this is funny? i will steal your girl and propose and start a family of 5.

⎯→ landonorris: trust me, we're gonna be a family of 5 once i'm home

And he wasn't joking about that comment because you two have been at it for almost an hour at this point. He was flipping you from position to position just to make sure he got every single angle of you in this lingerie set. Doggy, missionary, cowgirl, all sorts of positions that even Sabrina Carpenter hasn't tried.

He already cummed once too, but he was so horny that he was instantly recharged. Thankfully he was sane enough to help clean you up before pounding you once again. But that was the only break you had. You couldn't help but just feel bad for your neighbors for having to hear you two go wild.

But Lando isn't a monster! He knows that it can hurt after going for so long. So while your whining, begging him to slow down or give you a break for minute, he simply just reaches for the bedside drawer. He whips out a fat tube of lube and squirts some onto his dick before quickly getting back to work.

"L-Love you," He mumbles as he keeps thrusting in and out "Love you so much, ahh"

Oscar Piastri | 81

yourusername: let my inner princess out for Victoria Secret's Santa Baby collection! every piece is so precious, just like all the crew members and girls 💋

→ user 01: literally a goddess

⎯→ user 02: blessed by aphrodite herself

⎯→ user 03: she IS aphrodite

⎯→ yourusername: don't curse me girl 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

→ user 04: ur such a ball of sunshine UGHHHH

→ user 05: i pray this doesn't get on my bf's feed

→ user 06: can oscar fight?

⎯→ oscarpiastri: no but i can dox you

You know "Jealous" by Nick Jonas? That's exactly how he's feeling right now. Seeing everyone admire not just your body but how lovely your energy is was making him want to burn the entire building down. He was so supportive of your being a model, how could he gate keep your beauty from the world?

But now, oh god he hates this. He rushes you both home after the shoot and instantly lays you on the bed. His mind is racing yet he's not saying much to you.

"Oscar?" You ask him, looking up at him from the bed. Which instantly makes his dick throb, something you see through his pants. Even just saying his name might drive him to the edge.

"If I cover you in hickies, you can't work anymore, right?" He says, taking off your top and rushing to unbutton your jeans.

"Don't do that," You say trying to sound stern but you did love the idea. "You know I have another shoot soon!"

"You have foundation," He says as he begins to kiss down your neck and pressing harsh circles on your clit "You'll live." He says as he pushes your panties to the side. Your breathing hitches, knowing how good he was with his fingers.

"Unless," He pulls his hands away and looks down at you. "you really don't want to?"

But he knows you want it, he just wanted to hear you say it. To know you were as needy for him that he was for you.

Max Verstappen | 01

yourusername: i WOULD be freezing cold but thank god for the skims fleece bodysuits!! happy holidays to all! may ur pussys be warm and used ⛷️

→ user 01: (Y/N)?!?!?!1 THE CAPTION

⎯→ user 02: i need to know if kim's reaction to this 😭

→ user 03: literally like a barbie doll

→ user 04: looked at myself and sighed

⎯→ yourusername: stalked ur page and found ur facebook, GIRL u go to stanford, have a nice ass house, AND A LETHAL ASS FACECARDDDD hush ur mouth, ur lovely

⎯→ user 04: omg thank you??!?!?!?!! 😭😭

⎯→ user 05: she's the ultimate girls-girls

→ user 06: if max doesn't comment soon i'mma assume she's free for me

→ maxverstappen1: sorry i was drooling, im only commenting to scare user 06 away

⎯→ user 06: im gonna hex you.

You fully unlocked mad max at these photos. Although the shoot was simple and not even super suggestive: he was fuming and needed to get it out. He was joking in the comments, but he’s already jacked off once to the photos.

And once he gets home, it’s over for you. You’re pinned against the wall, his lips going all over your body. Not an inch of you is left unkissed.

“Unbelievable” he said as he sneaks a hand behind your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. He tugs you downwards, you already know that that means.

Instantly you’re on your knees, looking up at him as if you had no idea why he was so angry. That just made him even more angry. Which may or may not have been your intention.

He unbuckled his pants quickly, throwing the belt to the side and letting his pants fall down to his knees. Your hands already know to do and pull his boxers down. And you’re instantly hit with the sight of his hard cock, a veiny and thick one.

You’ve seen it many times before, but you always can’t help but stare in awe of how something that size of a wrist is fitting inside you.

“Don’t just stare at it.” He tugs your face directly into his dick, smushing your face against it. “Get to work.”

Oliver Bearman | 87

yourusername: so so so happy to modeling the newest set for my bestie's brand! i'm wearing... nothing... 😉 the real sets come out in a week! stay tuned MWAH

→ user 01: my whole face is PINK omg

⎯→ user 02: my tip is RED

⎯→ user 03: oh...

⎯→ user 02: i'm a girl, dw

→ user 03: ... start an onlyfans... please.... please please please

→ user 04: oh my godddddd, i dropped the keys to my 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO, oh I'm so clumsy! (I'm 6'0 too) (and pretty funny)

⎯→ olliebearman: and i drive for ferrari, at 6'1, whilst cracking jokes

Ollie knows his worth, he knows he's a highly sought after man. But he's never felt more insecure than now, reading your comments filled with not just men but also girls?! He had to fight off both sides, which made him feel even more weary that his girlfriend is so desired.

So the only way for him to stop his insecurities was easy! Just fuck it out of his system, duh! So now, you're stuck bent over in doggy style in the shower. Why the shower? Because he knew he would make an absolute mess out of you.

He's pounding into you, making loud slaps against the walls. It echos throughout the entire bathroom. You're sure your neighbors can hear but there's not much you can do. You're stuck being a moaning mess while he's holding onto your hips for dear life.

As if that wasn't enough, he leaned forward to whisper into your ear. "Never, never again..." He says, breathing heavy from being so tired, yet his body was moving on his own. "No one can see you like this, ever."

Paul Aron | 17

yourusername: "angel?" set is out now! so proud to be part of the process for this🪽 i did, indeed, feel like an angel

→ user 01: mind you this is my first impression of you... and i'm following asap

⎯→ user 02: i was prepared to fight u for a second

→ user 03: LAWWDDD??? I COULD TAKE A BITE OUTTA UR ASS

⎯→ user 04: enough ass to feed a whole family of 5

→ user 05: paul... count your days

⎯→ paularon_: what did i do???

⎯→ user 06: u better worship the ground she walks on

⎯→ paularon_: of course i do, that's my whole purpose

→ user 07: perfect body, gorgeous face, hot ass boyfriend, GOD HAS FAVORITES

Oh he's livid. Not because you did the shoot, how could he blame you for simply looking good? He knew he picked a baddie and was ready to take all the repercussions alongside it. But he was livid because the fans were practically drooling over you. He's a possessive guy, it's basically his middle name.

He won't get off you at all, as if he needs you like air. His comment wasn’t a lie, he was worshipping you just like he should. Leaving hickies all over your neck, sucking on your breast, fingering you until you cummed at least twice. And he's not even done.

It's like he's trying his best to tease himself for as long as possible. You see how huge his dick is, how it's practically drowning in it's own precum. But he refuses to fuck you until he knows you're satisfied.

He's mainly doing this because he knows he's going to cum fast. Just from giving you pleasure makes him want to cum already. Being inside would only make him last one thrust, maybe two if he's lucky.

You're tired, fucked out from his fingers and sore from his hickies. But he simply kisses your cheek before bringing his head down to your cunt.

"N-No," you say, so overstimulated and wanting to see him get pleasure too. "Paul, just... Just f-fuck me already"

"Shhh" He says, not giving a single care for what you have to say. As he licks your cunt. You shiver from the touch, already knowing you're going to stuck in that bed for hours.

Pepe Marti | 21

yourusername: was i cold? 😣 yeah, but it was so worth it! loved working with the crew to take these breath-taking shots, i've never felt prettier 💌

→ user 01: oh. my. GOD??????? THE BODY

⎯→ user 02: seeing her without a 10lbs hoodie hiding her is so weird but SO GOOD

⎯→ user 03: literally thought this was an entirely different girl

→ user 03: i'm putting u in my heart locket

⎯→ user 04: literally going to print this out onto my wall

→ user 05: pepe is so so SO FUCKING lucky

→ pepemartiofficial: my beautiful girl 😘

Although you were much more shy and reserved than others, seeing you do this shoot made him feel so proud of you. Every photo was stared at by him for hours, just loving every detail that makes you you. He can’t help but feel so lucky to have such a beautiful girl but see your confidence grow.

So now he’s fucking you gently, dick pushing against your stomach from how long he is. His head is in your neck while his hands are holding yours. Each thrust is slow and patient, making you feel each centimeter of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans into your neck. “So so, proud” he barely mumbles that. Feeling the strong urge to cum.

Although fucking with him was gentle this time, you still came. He always made sure you were placed first. So now he’s basically just overstimulating you, going at an agonizing slow pace to just fuck with you.

“T-Than’ you.” You say to him, wanting to grab his hair or back. But you can’t, since you’re pinned down by his own hands that are interlocked with yours.

“Gonna cum,” he groans again into your neck also pathetically “Inside?” He begs “That’s okay right??”

[kitkatscabinet]

FAT, JUICY & WET

pairing(s): dick grayson, kyle rayner, stephanie brown x fem! Reader

summary: certified pussy eaters, champions of the munch cause.

a/n: minors swiftly fuck off

DICK GRAYSON

Loves nothing more than to get on his knees for you, doesn’t care where, how or when, doesn’t even notice the bruises from the tiles or the rug burn from the carpet, it’s a price he’s willing to pay.

You can't count the amount of times he's come home from patrol just to hook his fingers in your panties and dive right in, sometimes he doesn't even get them down your legs, simply pulling them to the side. If you're wearing that one blue lacey set he loves then he'll leave them on.

It's his favourite form of stress relief, making his girl feel good, hearing you tell him how good he's doing, and if you tug on his hair? Man nearly blacks out.

God forbid you wear a dress or take a shower together because he’s already between your legs, large hands gripping the flesh of your thighs to spread you open for him.

KYLE RAYNER

Having your thighs clamp down on his head, back arching off the mattress he’s unintentionally grinding against as you cum? Yeah that's his favourite thing in the entire world, the galaxy.

Kyle is not gonna let you pull away, even when you squirm and beg, he's not finished with his meal yet :(

Not above using the ring to restrain you when you try to slide away up the mattress or dig your heels into his back cause it’s too much. Kyle doesn’t care, he’s gonna keep going. He’s been in space for so long, he’s got literal weeks to make up for.

Accidentally overstimulates himself when he cums from humping the mattress, continuing to rut against the mess he's made.

YOU 🫵

Stephanie works so hard to keep Gotham safe, it's only fair you let her lie back and be the pillow princess she deserves to be. Golden hair splayed across the pillows and fingers clenching the sheets as you lavish her with attention.

Tell her how gorgeous she is, how she's the best thing you've ever tasted, holding her thighs open when she tries to shy away from you telling her how pretty her pussy is.

If she’s been particularly bratty then you make her ride your face, you won’t touch her except for your tongue as she frantically grinds against you, continuously slumping forward because it’s too much and she can’t keep upright, only for you to stop, smacking her on the ass to remind her to be good.

PETER PARKER

Sit on his face, for the love of god, please sit on his face! If you try to pull any of that hovering bullshit he'll grab your thighs, holding you against him with his superior strength as he encourages you to ride him.

It's also the only way to get him to stop talking, any other position and he's constantly pulling away, babbling nonsense about how perfect your pussy is, how it was made for him. How he was made for this, made to spend his days with his head between your thighs.

Please call him a good boy! Pet his hair, tug on it, dig your heels into his back as you praise him. Tell him he's the absolute best and he'll do whatever you want for the rest of his life.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 22 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: A dark surprise is awaiting you - something that might change your entire life for better or worse, if it doesn't end before it could.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening (knife), mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy issues like nausea and puking, kidney failure, cockwarming, rough sex, penetration, oral sex, blood play, degradation kink, knife play, threats of torture and gore, rape (to a certain degree), the pregnancy is being threatened in a vile, graphic way, not beta-read! if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+! dark content ahead!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Author's note: I'm putting an extra note here, just to say: I think compared to the other chapters it gets kinda dark here, with real noncon vibes, so please be cautious of that before reading. Beware: Word count 12.278

When he came home, it always went the same way.

The door creaked open, then he closed it, set his briefcase aside and washed his hands.

Not a single time had he ever missed one of these steps. Washing his hands was like a sacred ritual. You did it, because you felt your hands vibrating the second you didn’t. Whenever you came in from wherever you were outside – and if only to check the mailbox – you had to immediately wash your hands or else you felt sick. It was a physical ache, your hands were reminding you that they needed to be cleaned.

You didn’t know if it was the same for him. Maybe there were other reasons, maybe he had the same kind of OCD. Whatever it was – he washed his hands. Every time.

And only then would he come and look for you, seek out where you were. Normally you’d either be in the kitchen or the living room. Sometimes you’d be typing mindlessly on the typewriter, lost in the cloud of your own imagination. It was much more fun than you expected and it reminded you not only of your father, but also the man you loved, with every letter. You loved the clicking sound and the hum every time a new phrase came to paper.

Other times, you’d be cooking. Ever since the first trimester nausea passed, you finally were able to eat again. Now you were craving things. Often savory food, but just as often it was some sweet nonsense. You tried to eat as healthy as possible, but often times you’d settle for some kind of cornflakes when he wasn’t home. It was alright though, so you told yourself. You had been through a lot and you deserved to calm down and relax a little.

There were those other days when you’d come up with the freakiest things. This gummy pudding, you had no idea what it was, but it was to be found in Korean convenience stores. He brought it home for you and it was disgusting, but you still finished it. Other times, you felt you were in dire need of spicy food – very unlike yourself. He still brought it home to you. One time was especially odd. You had just finished a giant portion of pasta (now that you could finally eat it again), but you couldn’t get one thing off your mind.

A McFlurry.

It was the one good thing you associated with your mother. Well, not her directly, but with your childhood.

Your mother had never been one to spoil you, but on some very rare occasions, when you were out in the city, which wasn’t quite often, she’d allow you some Fast Food. Like any other kid of course you were all for Nuggets and Fries, but the thing you loved most was the ice cream. The ice cream machine was broken more often than not, so it was quite the highlight when you got to eat it. You remembered one moment especially.

You sat on the worn-out red leather cushion, slurping on your ice cream, when you felt your mother’s intense gaze on you. You immediately straightened up, thinking you had done something wrong and she’d take the ice cream away for it.

“What is it?” You had asked in that quiet, unsure voice of a poor, insecure nine-year-old.

She kept looking at you for a long moment and there was something soft in her eyes, something she never let you see. Later that day, she’d send you to sleep in the wardrobe, because on the way home, you said something to piss her off, but then and there – she looked at you with kind eyes.

“Eat your ice cream, honey.”

To this day, the taste of it reminded you of that moment. That one time honey didn’t sound like a mocking curse, but something a mother would say to her daughter. Because she loved her.

Not, because she’d try to poison her a few years later.

So, many years later, you found yourself on the couch, picking at the last of your pasta, when you felt his gaze on you.

“What is it? Aren’t you feeling well?”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft. You didn’t want to mention your mother to him, but you did. You told him of the brief moment of kindness and the way you still loved that ice cream to that day.

And what did he do?

He got up and put his coat on.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “I’m getting ice cream.”

That made you smile, but softly. “But it’s almost midnight.”

He smirked in return, but his eyes were warm. God, it was so easy to lose yourself in them.

“Eat your pasta. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He kept his promise and only twenty minutes later you found yourself curled into his side, licking the sweetness off the plastic spoon. “You’re such an idiot.” You murmured and shot him a smirk. “I can’t believe you did that.”

He snorted as he played with your hair. “Yeah. That’s the weirdest thing I’ve done so far.”

You laughed in response and shoved a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He grinned and took the spoon from you with ease. “I’m just saying.”

The next few weeks went on just as smoothly. It was almost like you were stuck in a dream. A part of you was constantly on edge, always expecting something horrible to happen. If it wasn’t your kidney to suddenly give up, it would surely be him. He’d do something – something horrible, something unforgivable, something to hurt either you or your baby…or you both.

But the more time passed, the clearer it became that he wouldn’t.

Every time you stared at him in silence, whenever you observed the way he nibbled on his pen while he filled out some paperwork, every time you watched him drive the car with a quiet hum on his lips, every time he did each of those things – the guilt was nearly suffocating you.

Of course you trusted him. You loved him, you adored him, he was the father of your child.

But he had also hurt you.

More than once. Repeatedly. Some of his ways more painful than others.

He looked so peaceful when he slept beside you or stirred something in a pot in the kitchen, while you watched him. He still brought you your fruit cocktail every morning, still seared your vegetables for you daily. And never did he complain once.

But it was inside of him. You knew it was there, buried under piles of kindness and love.

You saw it in the way his hand twitched, whenever you got into a minor argument. The way his eyes shone darkly and his lips pulled into a frown. The way he clenched his jaw over little things. Sometimes, he was trembling with barely suppressed rage.

One night, he almost lost control.

Almost.

It had started as a minor disagreement, you couldn’t even tell what it was about, but it escalated when it got to the point of you asking him why you still weren’t allowed to leave the house on your own. After all, you were carrying his child.

What would finally make him trust you?

But he nearly exploded. A few minutes into the argument you realized, it wasn’t him being paranoid and angry. It was him being concerned and possessive. His jealousy was easily triggered, even easier than your own and now that you had his child in your belly…

It didn’t make things easier.

“I would never leave you.” You muttered, shaking your head.

He let out an annoyed exhale. “I know that.”

“Then why?!”

“Because I said so.” He gritted out and shot you a dark glare. “And now shut up about it.”

“I won’t.” You had been feeling somewhat too confident that day. That was the thing with him. He made you feel so safe that you actually dared to speak up your mind and feel like you were someone. And when you did, it infuriated him. Not always…but whenever it went against his way of things. “I won’t, because this is ridiculous! I will not-“

“Shut up!” His fist shot out so fast that you hardly even recognized it as a movement. A sharp inhale later, you squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your damp fists, expecting him to break your jaw. But all that really happened was a sharp flinch that went through you, when you heard his fist bump into the wall only a few inches away from your head. You felt the air heat up with his proximity and for a long moment, you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When you eventually did, you immediately looked up at his face, but he wasn’t looking at you. He kept his gaze downcast, his eyes closed and his jaw clenched. He was taking quick breaths, his chest rising and falling in record speed. You didn’t dare open your mouth in case this was just the calm before the storm. But it didn’t seem to be. Instead, he seemed almost pained under the weight of his loss of control.

You tilted your head only enough to see his fist, still shaking against the wall. There was a faint crack in the plaster and you saw the hint of harsh red of his blood mixing with the soft apricot color of the wall.

It would have probably been the clever thing to let go. Lock yourself away until he calmed down. He’d apologize, probably and even if he didn’t – he hadn’t hurt you.

But instead of leaving him, you reached out a hand, still struggling to breathe yourself. Your fingers closed around his wrist and he yanked his hand back, attempting to pull away, but you only tightened your grip.

“Let me take a look!”

His arm was tense as was the rest of him and you were almost afraid to look at his face, but when you did, he was still avoiding your gaze. So, instead you focused back on his hand and the traces of blood, the broken skin, mixing with paint.

You swallowed and looked up at him again. “I’m going to clean this up, okay?”

He still didn’t answer. It was like tending to a wild animal, a bull even. His eyes were wide and unfocused, looking for a spot to fix upon. Just not you.

But when you guided him to sit on the couch, he didn’t resist. When you attempted to get up and get a clean cloth, his hand shot out again, fingers wrapping around your wrist like a vice. You winced, but quickly caught yourself again. You wrapped a gentle hand around his arm and whispered: “I’ll be right back.”

He swallowed and hesitated for another second, before he finally let go. You nearly broke both legs stumbling over a pair of shoes and a bag on your way to the bathroom. You gathered what you thought you needed, a wet cloth, some disinfectant and luckily you even found a clean bandage in the drawer. While you carried everything back to the living room, you caught yourself thinking, how is it even possible that I never needed this until now?

You crouched down beside him, taking a look at his hand. He was still far away with his eyes, but he seemed softer now. Less like a wounded lion and more like a man who drowned in guilt.

“I didn’t mean to-“ He cut himself off and clenched his jaw again.

It was hard for him. You could see that every time he held himself back for your sake. You didn’t know if it was because you were pregnant now or because he was slowly starting to understand that you indeed loved him and that you truly didn’t intend to leave him.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t easy on him. He was still two people at once, fighting internally, battling each other over minor things. Sometimes, he won. Other times, he punched the wall hard enough to crack.

But that was okay, you told yourself. He was trying. You could see that he was, despite his struggle. He would hurt you again, you were sure. You took a slow breath, silently praying to God for him never to lose control too bad. He would hurt you again. But fuck if you’d let him hurt your child.

“I know.” You murmured softly as you gently began to dab at his wounded knuckles. “Nothing happened. It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” He gritted out. “I could have-“ He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

You waited patiently until he opened his eyes again and until he was finally ready to face you. This wasn’t like him, you suddenly realized. His dark side, his evil twin, it was unlike him to show signs of guilt. But to you he did. For you he did.

His eyes were still dark, but now there was something else as well. Something you had rarely ever seen in him. It was more than guilt, it was different than anger, it was…fear.

“I could have hurt you.”

You paused for a beat, before you could respond. “But you didn’t.”

“You don’t understand.” He lowered his head so he was eye level with you and you were forced to look into his eyes, to see the depth of what lay beyond them.

“I wanted to.”

There was a tight knot in your chest. What were you supposed to say to that? There was not much you could do. You knew what he was. He was trying. But was that enough?

“But you didn’t.” You eventually said again. Your voice was unwavering, more certain than the rest of you.

He frowned and pulled his head back, glancing down at his fist, still clenched in your hand.

“I don’t deserve this.” He murmured.

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head, still staring down at your hands. “I don’t deserve you. What have I ever given you aside from pain?”

You felt as though he had punched you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to show the horror you felt inside. “You…”

“It’s true. You are good and kind and forgiving. You care about me in ways…” He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze entirely. “I don’t deserve this.”

Before you had time to think it through, you already reached out and grasped his chin between two fingers. You tilted his head, forcing him to look at you. With a stern expression, it was now you who shook your head.

“You love me.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “What does that have to do with anything?”

You smiled, with more conviction than you thought yourself capable of. “Everything.”

He didn’t comment on it any further and neither did you. You simply took care of his wounds and he let you. It was foreign to him – you could tell by the way he watched you in a mixture of confusion and wonder. A part of him was still tense, as though he expected you to strike. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable, but he was getting better at it.

That was the moment you decided you wouldn’t ask him again.

No matter how confused and desperate you felt, how angry it made you that he knew everything about you and you seemed to know nothing about him.

You didn’t know his name, nor what he did or where he came from – but you knew that he loved you. That he’d kill for you. And that you were his, as much as he was yours.

And so you decided to trust him with everything else as well.

Because he was trying.

Six weeks came and went. Time passed so quickly and life felt so easy, that you tended to forget about the bad things. The times when he ignored you, when he withdrew his love in order to punish you for things you might have done wrong in his eyes, were all but forgotten.

The days were short. You spent every possible moment together. Aside from when he went to work or to…well, to work on the man your mother had sent, you were together. Always.

Sometimes you were almost afraid that your constant presence would end up suffocating him.

Despite the way you got more and more confident in yourself, the dark thoughts lingered. Whenever he was gone for a few minutes too long, whenever you got into an argument, you couldn’t help but think yourself unlovable. One day he would wake up and he would realize the terrible mistake he had made.

But he had ways. Many different ways to ensure your thoughts were only that – thoughts.

Every time you thought you were being too clingy and decided to pull away, put at least a little distance between you – scoot over on the couch, roll over, pull yourself away from him – he caught you. Whether it was being a hand on your thigh, an arm around your shoulders or just his knee pressed a little tighter against yours. He was just as clingy, you realized. Of course you didn’t speak of it. But you saw it in the way he closed his eyes, when your fingers ran through his hair. The way he smirked to himself when he caught you staring at him when he came out of the shower – if he ever allowed you to take a shower alone. He needed your contact just as much as you did his and it only ever made you love him more.

What was it about the couples who needed space? What did that even mean?

Sure, you sometimes asked yourself if it would do your relationship any good if you spent some time apart. But no, God, no. The thought alone made your skin crawl in fear. Falling asleep without him by your side sounded like the most ridiculous and impossible thing. You needed him there, his warmth, his arms around you and his warm breath on your neck.

It wasn’t just you and him cramped up in the space of the apartment all the time. Things became…lighter.

Going outside became a trivial thing to you. It wasn’t only the regular appointments at the doctor’s office. You went out to eat, to take walks and he showed you Seoul. Of course you’d seen a few places there – guided by only your phone, because you were a ghost in your own life. But what he showed you weren’t only tourist spots. No, he showed you things you would have never even thought about on your own. Things only someone who had grown up there could show you.

Even his old house.

It was burnt down to the ground of course, no more than dead grass, some dirt and rusty metal. But the way he stared down at it, the place that had once been so much bigger than him, the place where all his nightmares found their origin…

It made you hold his hand just a little tighter.

He didn’t say a single word and he didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. His pain ran much deeper than you had ever assumed. Maybe even deeper than your own.

But pain is not something to be measured and compared, right?

You squeezed his hand – and he squeezed yours right back.

You never spoke of it. Not a single time. And you held onto your word, your thoughts, you had had just a few weeks ago. You didn’t pressure him and it seemed to pay off, because the tension in him that was always there seemed to ease just the tiniest bit.

You went to the movies – thank God there were days when they played in their original language – and to the theater. He showed you bridges, buildings, food, music, art.

All the things you had missed out on your entire life.

And while he was at it, he showed you love.

You felt it in the way his hand tightened on the small of your back, whenever you got into a group of people. The way he looked at you, that sheepish smile, whenever you caught him staring at you while you were doing something – be it the dishes or stargazing.

He showed you himself. All you needed to know was right there in the way he kissed you.

And he kissed you.

Of course there were moments when a quick peck had to be enough, but the nights? The nights.

There was not enough air to breathe and you didn’t care one bit.

All you needed was him. He made sure of it.

You couldn’t count the times he made you inhale sharply and claw at the sheets.

Every night, so far. Once your nausea and your sickening exhaustion had passed, you became a wild thing. It was hard to tame you, the second you felt his fingers run up your thigh, down your hip, up your back. You were sure you could have recognized his hands blindly in-between a thousand others.

When he rubbed the pads of his fingers over your tongue, down your stomach or when they slipped inside your panties. They were so skilled that it never took him long to have writhing and begging. It was so easy that it almost got boring.

And so, sometimes, he had his ways of making you suffer, just to spice it up.

The night before, he had done just that. Your jaw still hurt thinking back to it – and your panties grew wet just the same.

He had been sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper as he so often did. Sometimes you asked yourself if he really read it or if that was just some kind of front to keep up the illusion of composure. You had just come out of the shower and were on your way to maybe try and write something, when you saw him sitting there, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. The way he leaned back, one arm resting on the couch, the other one holding up the paper.

It didn’t need any words. Just one look.

He leaned back in that infuriatingly hot way, legs spread apart and lowering the paper just enough to look at you.

You had never seen such expressive eyes before. And the command was clear.

You let go of any idea of writing, the moment you approached him instead. You slid onto your knees almost automatically, but not before he shoved a pillow before you, for you to kneel on. You shifted slightly, spreading your legs apart involuntarily, but he shot you a warning look.

“I want to see your hands at all times.” He said lowly, before he glanced back down at the newspaper. “And now keep me warm.”

You nearly choked on your spit, your own arousal making your mind go hazy. But you obeyed. You always obeyed – until you didn’t. But that night, you did.

You freed him from his sweatpants, his hardness already apparent and ready for you to take care of. The need to run your tongue along his length and drive him to the brink of madness was almost suffocating, but the way he tightened his grip on the paper just slightly kept you from doing so. Instead you spat down on it just once and took him in your mouth. And then you stayed in place.

You felt the way he tensed, heard the way his breath hitched, but he didn’t do anything either.

“Good girl.” He murmured and ran his fingers through your hair with his free hand, keeping them there. You tried to swallow around him, but it only made you drool all over him. A small whimper died in the back of your throat as you forced your knees to press into the pillow firmly, not daring to move or touch yourself, when that was all you wanted to do. You were already so wet, just from kneeling like that, just from tasting him.

A soft sigh came over your lips and your tongue involuntarily moved, causing him to inhale through gritted teeth. You expected a scolding, but he just pushed your head down further onto him. You moaned and chocked back a gag.

“My good girl.” He murmured, as he kept playing with your hair. “Be a good girl for daddy, so he can finish reading this, okay?”

You didn’t respond and how would you have accomplished that? You just stayed in place, keeping your head still. Your fingers twitched to reach between your legs and do something against the burning ache there, but you didn’t. It would only cause him to torment you further, to withdraw your release or keep you on edge.

Minutes passed and the only sound was his ragged breathing and your own.

His grip on the newspaper was painfully tight – normally he had a better grip on his composure. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had sex in two days. Maybe it was because he felt your legs shaking.

The evidence of your own arousal was slowly dripping down your thighs and you let your eyelids flutter shut. You choked back any sounds you wanted to make, your hands gripping the edge of the sofa tightly.

“Fuck this shit. Fine.” He sighed out, before he slammed the paper onto the couch. “Come, darling, make daddy feel good.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You always loved to pleasure him with your mouth, for many different reasons. The sounds he made, his grip on you…almost like his life depended on it. It was exhausting of course, but it was worth it. You almost came, just kneeling there, being at his mercy – and somehow, it was you in control nonetheless. Of course he’d guide your movements every now and then, force a gag over your lips, but other times, when he was in a softer mood, he’d just…

Admire you.

His mouth slightly agape, his brows furrowed, he stared down at you like a man starving and you were the water he desperately needed. His grip on the back of your head was firm, but not painful, just enough to allow him to massage his fingertips into your scalp.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, just like that, baby. Just like…ah, fuck.”

His eyes fluttered shut and you used the opportunity to bring your hand between your legs, dying for any kind of friction. But he caught the movement and quickly caught your wrist.

“No, baby, no. I’m going to make you feel better than you ever have before, but you’re going to listen to me. Understand?”

You forced yourself to nod, though you almost felt tears of desperation sting your eyes. You hadn’t felt this needy in…

Probably not that long ago. He kept doing this to you. And as much as you hated it, as much did you love it, because in the end…

He always made up for it.

Before you had the chance to thrive on your determination to make him cum, he pulled your head back, causing you to whimper.

“Good girl.” He gritted out, his grip on your face bruising. “Such a good girl.”

He pulled you up onto the couch and pushed you back into the cushions.

“Are we above begging, huh?”

You shook your head in a way that could only be described as hysterical. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, daddy.” You breathed out, your face flushed red.

He smirked in that devilish way, looming above you and making a face as if considering.

You whimpered again and his smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “Beg a little more, sweet girl.”

You licked your lips and bit down on them as you pressed yourself back into the couch, involuntarily arching into his touch. “Please. Please, I’m begging you, I…I’m so…Please…”

He hummed approvingly. “That’s a good girl, if I’ve ever seen one.”

His head dipped forward and his lips brushed over the side of your neck. He kissed a path from your neck to your earlobe, where he gently bit down on it. “Do you want me that bad, hm?”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you nodded, sliding your hands over his bare back.

“I want to have a taste first.” He breathed in your ear, causing your body to tremble and your toes to curl. Your throat felt too dry to form a response, but that wasn’t necessary. He leaned down and parted your lips with his tongue, delving in for a kiss that was as messy as it was desperate.

You moaned and arched your hips up against his, feeling his slick hardness against your soaked panties.

He hissed in response and bit down on your lip. “God, you’re killing me.”

In no time, he kissed his way down your body. The way his hands smoothed your clothing out of the way made you shiver. You were a puddle in his hands, unable to move or breathe, all you could do was gasp and whimper.

He ran his fingertip over your slit, which caused you to inhale sharply.

“My God.” He murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever had you this wet before.”

You whimpered in response, biting down on your tongue to keep any more pathetic sounds back.

He smirked and hooked his fingers under the material, pulling them off of you torturously slow.

“Fuck.” He all but growled, when he came back up. You felt his hot breath against your core and it was enough to make you cry.

“Please-“

“Patience.” He spoke calmly. How could he be so feral and suddenly so composed, all within a minute? Maybe he had more than just two personalities.

He ran his hands up from your ankles to your knees, before he swiftly hooked them around his shoulders.

“I want to hear you, okay?”

You swallowed and nodded. You were sure you had a fever by now.

And then he finally touched you.

The sound you made when his flat tongue ran over your slick folds was hardly even human, but you didn’t hold anything back. You just leaned back – and relaxed.

If one could call it that.

His gentle ministrations quickly turned into something else entirely, because soon he ran the tip of his tongue in circles around your sweet spot, before he attacked it with his pursed lips.

Your hand found his hair almost involuntarily. It had to hurt, the way you tugged at it, but you couldn’t help yourself. You guided his movements, practically using him to pleasure yourself.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God-“

He hummed and the vibrations it sent through your core alone were enough to make you arch your back.

“Oh, fuck!”

It didn’t take you a full minute to end up writhing and crying out, your body nearly floating from the sofa.

But he didn’t stop there.

It was almost painful, the way he kept working his mouth, kept lapping and licking, kissing as he would your mouth.

“Oh, oh, oh God…”

And soon, you felt yourself tip over the edge again, this time even more intensely than the first time.

“Please…can’t take…more…”

Your legs were shaking and so was the rest of you. You felt hot and cold at the same time and you kept feeling as feverish, until he finally decided to be merciful and pull away.

He slowly crawled back until he was hovering over you again, his lips curved into a devilish smirk.

“Oh, that was delicious.”

“I hate you.” You whispered breathlessly.

That made him laugh and he leaned down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips and it made you moan.

“Too bad.” He murmured against your lips. “Because I love you.”

You sighed deeply and bit down on his lower lip. “I love you, too, you demon.”

His smirk widened into something more genuine. “And what does that make you, hm?”

You couldn’t help but smirk in response. “Oh, shut up.”

He gently cupped your cheek in his hand and looked at you for a moment, before he let his hand wander and gently pressed it against your stomach instead. The intensity of his feeling and the softness in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat.

“I love you both.” He whispered.

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide in surprise and admiration.

“We love you, too.” You whispered back.

He smiled and didn’t say anything more. You bit your lip and gently pressed a hand against his chest. “And what about you?”

He cocked a brow. “What about me?”

You smirked and teasingly ran your thumb along the tip of his hardness. His eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled sharply. “Ah.”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss. “You know what I want?”

He shook his head, pulling his head back to meet your gaze.

Your eyes darkened in a way you had only ever seen in him. It was him. He had that effect on you. He made this of you. This mess. This wicked, wanton, needy mess.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Now his own eyes darkened and he clenched his jaw. “Is that so, hm?”

You licked your lips and nodded. “I want you to fuck me, daddy.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, your words sending a shiver down his spine. When he opened them again, he looked feral again.

He immediately pushed your legs apart and pressed himself against your entrance. You, still wet like crazy and him glistening with precum, you forced yourself to keep your eyes open. You observed the way his brows furrowed and his breath stuttered as he slowly pushed himself inside you.

It didn’t matter how many times he did it. It was always enough to make your eyes roll back.

“Fuck.” He gritted his teeth and wrapped his fingers around your throat, but not squeezing. Only holding you, only showing you who was in control.

“Open that pretty mouth for me.”

You didn’t hesitate. And he didn’t hesitate to spit down in it.

When you closed your mouth and swallowed, you could swear, you felt him throb inside you.

He leaned in so his lips grazed your earlobe and whispered: “You’re taking me so well. Such a good girl. My beautiful, dirty girl.”

Your eyelids fluttered and you forced yourself to look up at him. He began to roll his hips against yours and you pressed yourself up against him, following his rhythm. You never thought it was possible to cum in this position, not as a woman, but he showed you that it was indeed possible.

His thumb found your sweet spot again, still heated and sensitive from his earlier attack, but that didn’t stop him.

“My good girl.”

“Ah, fuck…You’re my…My man.”

His eyes narrowed and his movements stuttered just slightly, before he caught himself and his movements only ever became more frantic. His mouth fell open and he drew in a sharp breath.

“Say that again.”

“My…” You licked your lips, your brows furrowed. “My man.”

He licked his lips as well and stared you down in a way that was deeper than any doting look he had ever given you.

“If I asked you to marry me, would you?”

You froze in your tracks and your eyes widened almost comically. “What?”

He nodded. “Would you?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and the way your chest tightened.

Marriage.

It wasn’t entirely ridiculous, right? After all, you were pregnant with his child. But you had never thought that far, never even dared to think of such a thing.

“What a dumb question.” You breathed out.

“Then answer it.” He whispered just as breathlessly.

Yes. Yes. For God’s sake, yes!

But you didn’t say that. Instead, your body reacted before your mind could, your lips curving into a dangerous, teasing smile. “You’ll have to be a man and risk asking me for real.”

He smirked, his eyes filling with a warmth that you didn’t expect. “You’re so goddamn sexy when you’re being a tease for me.”

He then closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. “I will burn this fucking world for you. Just say the word.”

You bit your lip and slowly shook your head. Your chest still felt warm under the weight of his words.

“Just love me.”

And that he did. To bliss and back.

The next evening you found yourself lying in bed, thinking about your life. So many bad things and so much pain had led you to that point. If you could go back to change it, would you?

No.

Not if it meant the outcome would be different.

You lay on his mattress, wearing no more than a dark red negligee, a pair of panties and a wistful smile. He was everything you ever wanted, everything you ever wished for in a man.

The things he made you feel, both emotionally and physically…You never even thought that possible.

You always thought you were unlovable.

You always thought no one would ever love you.

But there you were. His.

Only his.

You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, remembering the night before. Involuntarily, you felt your hand wander down your body, to the gentle curve of your belly. It was so tiny, barely even noticeable, but you did notice. You saw it, when you wore a tight dress and you felt it, whenever you thought about it. A baby.

Your baby.

His.

This wasn’t exactly what you had expected to come out of your life. This wasn’t what you anticipated either. To be honest, you had never even thought you would make it that far. You had never been able to picture yourself that way. Married, pregnant…All these things sounded foreign to you. And yet, there you were.

Lying on the bed of the man you loved, his child inside your belly.

When you heard the door click open, your smile only grew.

No matter how much time you spent with him, you always missed him like crazy.

You considered getting up and approaching him at the door just to show him how much you had missed him. But then again, you were already settled under the blanket, warm and cozy…and the way you knew him, he’d be there within two minutes anyway.

But something felt off.

You heard the door creak open and you heard his steps. Slow and measured, hesitant even. Maybe he assumed you were asleep and so he tried to be careful about it.

But you couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was amiss.

And that was when you realized it.

He hadn’t washed his hands.

You wanted to believe that you were being paranoid, but a little voice inside your head told you that something wasn’t the way it should be.

There would be only one reason for him not to wash his hands after he came in: any kind of emergency. But if there was an emergency, if he was worried for you, wouldn’t he be running? Wouldn’t his steps be quick and relentless?

But there he was, sneaking in like a ballerina.

You sat up stiffly, careful not to make any sounds. Whatever the feeling you had was, it got worse with every minute.

Fuck.

As much as you didn’t want to think too much into it – you had to. Better safe than sorry, right?

The last time your brain went into rotting mode, you ended up being kidnapped. No matter if you wanted to call it that or not – it was a fact.

Before you knew it, you had already opened the closet, careful not to make any sounds. You crouched down and pressed your back against the back of the wardrobe, slowly pulling the door shut.

If it was him simply being careful and having forgotten, for whatever reason, to wash his hands, he’d probably panic if he came in and didn’t immediately find you. But you’d deal with that by the time it came to it. You stared through the tiny crack between the doors, holding your breath as you listened in.

The steps came closer, but they were too careful. Too slow.

And the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t him.

You choked back the horror you felt and only ever leaned back against the wall. Your body felt hot and cold, your palms sweaty. Your breath was stuttering and stilling in your lungs.

Fuck.

Who on earth could that be? The police? He had killed that janitor, after all.

No, it wasn’t the police. It was only one person, you could tell. That was far worse.

You wanted to close your eyes and attempt to calm yourself, but there was no way. Your eyes stayed wide open, your breath caught in your throat. You tried not to breathe at all, to not make a single sound.

And then the door opened.

You pressed a hand against your mouth as your eyes followed the light that suddenly flooded the room before you. You saw the shoes before you saw anything else. It was still too dark and your view wasn’t exactly clear.

You held your breath.

“I know that you’re here.”

The familiarity of the voice nearly made you gasp or scream out in horror. The accent. You heard the fucking accent, because you spoke in the same way. His accent matched yours.

“You can’t hide forever, girl. Come out and maybe I’ll let you live.”

You pressed your hand tighter against your face, sucking in a sharp breath while you were at it.

Oh God. God. No. No, no, no, no, no.

But you didn’t even have the time to say a prayer in your head.

The wardrobe door was yanked open and you were immediately sure.

Your life was over.

Your lips parted in a silent scream, but all you were met with was something that was…hardly even human.

The sight of the man who had once stopped you and questioned you, who had once appeared in front of the door and who ended up on the floor in blood and shackles…

Well, that man was gone.

All that was there now was skin and bones, pale skin and probably broken bones. He bared his teeth in a crooked grin and you saw how he was missing a few of them. His bloodshot eyes were filled with darkness and terror, his lip bruised and bloody, his collarbones nearly jumping at you from the way he was so skinny.

You stumbled back against the wall, but he didn’t give you time to react.

His bony fingers wrapped around your arms and he yanked you to your feet. A part of you was almost confused at how he even managed to get anything done. Judging by the way he looked, he was barely even alive. Just a skull with hollow eyes and blood smeared all over him.

“Is he home, hm?”

You hadn’t even noticed the knife. You only ever realized his grip on it, after he pressed it against your jugular.

You gasped out loud and held your breath, your eyes wide and terrified. You wanted to speak. Wanted to scream. Wanted to fight, to run.

But then you felt it.

Slowly, at first. And then full-force.

You froze.

Your body, your mind. Yourself.

You froze. The same you always did whenever someone touched you.

The feeling was nearly foreign to you by now, because it hadn’t happened in so long. A part of you had almost assumed it wouldn’t ever happen again, because maybe, maybe he had managed to heal you. Maybe you were normal now. Maybe a touch couldn’t cause this reaction in you any longer.

Oh, how entirely mistaken you were.

“Look at that.” He smiled that unhealthy smile, a hoarse laugh rumbling in his chest. “Look at that. Aren’t you a convenient little slut?”

It wasn’t even necessary to restrain you. When he pushed you against the bed, you let him. You fell against the mattress, your limbs stiff and still. The only thing reminding you that you were still alive was your pulse. You were sure you heard it pumping in your ears, somewhere near your brain. But it felt as though you were seconds away from having a stroke.

“Please.” Your voice was hardly even audible, your lips barely moving. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he paused, his expression almost contemplative. But then he pursed his lips and stretched out his arms, the notion almost lazy. “Good.” He purred. “Then it will hurt him all the more.”

He straddled you in a swift movement, ramming the knife into the mattress only a few inches from your head. You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut.

This was it.

Everything that had led you to this moment – Would you still take it? If this was how your life ended?

All the pain. All the misery. Only for your mother to get her last wish.

He leaned down and his breath hit your face, smelling of iron and blood. “You know…” He stretched out a finger and ran the tip of it down your cheek, then your neck. You whimpered and only ever squeezed your eyes shut tighter. That made him smirk. You heard his amusement clearly. “I was actually supposed to find you and bring you back. Rescue you, if you will.” He scoffed and shook his head, before he dug his fingers into your cheeks and forced a sharp gasp over your lips. “Isn’t that so fucking ironic? Rescue you. While you were here, getting fucked by this little piece of shit. Did you enjoy it? Huh? Did you enjoy spreading your legs for this bastard?”

You wanted to keep your eyes closed, to somehow escape this nightmare. But he didn’t let you. His hand cracked against your cheek with enough force to make you cry out aloud.

He had never hit you so hard.

Not even his goddamn punches had hurt that much.

You sobbed and tried to swallow back the saliva that threatened to make you choke. A hot feeling flared up in your chest – humiliation, anger, but mostly fear.

He would hurt you. He would genuinely hurt you.

“Please, I didn’t want any of this!”

“Shut the fuck up.” He slapped you again, this time even harder. Hard enough to make you go dizzy. “Will you keep that fucking, slutty mouth of yours shut or do I need to use other methods to make sure you obey?”

A soft rustling sound and then you felt it. The cold metal of the blade, pressed against the side of your neck. Your eyes shot open and you choked back a sob, trying to gasp for air, but there was none.

Were you already dead?

You shook your head, almost imperceptibly.

He nodded. “Good. But just to make sure…”

He tilted back the blade, running the tip of it over your neck. Your eyelids fluttered and all you saw was white, white, white light.

This was how dying felt.

Not being forced by your mother to sleep in a wardrobe, not having to drink water from a bowl on the floor, not event thinking you’d get raped at the metro station.

This was it.

The hardness in his eyes. The coldness. The numbness. The death.

There was nothing left of him. And soon, there wouldn’t be anything left of you either.

“P-p-please.”

But he only smirked. He only smirked and guided the tip of the blade lower and lower, until you felt it pressed against your abdomen.

You stiffened painfully much, digging your nails into your palms.

Your baby.

Your man.

Was he dead?

Oh God, had he killed him?

There was no safety in sight. No help. Nothing.

You were going to die tonight.

Never had you ever been particularly fond of life. And now that you finally were, now you were going to die.

But that didn’t hurt half as much, as did the blade against your stomach. The threat.

“I could cut that thing out of you and feed it to him.”

He wasn’t dead.

And still, his words made you shudder.

You had never even realized when you had started to cry. You simply suddenly realized your face was wet, your lashes sticky and your vision blurred.

“I’ll do whatever you want. But please-“ You sobbed out, but you stopped, when he pressed the blade harder against you.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” He spat.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes open and nodded frantically.

“Good.” He murmured. “Maybe you’re not entirely useless. What do we have here?”

He used the tip of the blade to cut the strap of your negligee, causing you to gasp.

“Look at that. How pretty. Like a pretty little slut.” His eyes darkened and his lip quivered in barely suppressed rage.

He leaned down and you felt his tongue run a path from your cheek to your ear. It made you shudder and tense, squeezing your eyes shut, but you forced yourself to stay still and not say a single thing. You just sobbed.

“You know what I’m going to do with you?” He smirked and ran a disgusting path with his tongue inside the shell of your ear. “I’m going to fuck your pretty little pussy. I’m going to fuck it again and again and again, until there’s nothing left of you. And only then will I cut you open.”

You were shaking and sobbing so hard that you felt nausea rise within you. Not only his words, but the intensity of your sobs was enough to make you want to puke.

“Or maybe…” He pressed the blade against your cheek and you held your breath. “Maybe I could cut your eyelids off first, hm? So I can be sure that you keep your eyes on me at all times. What do you think?”

The cold metal of the knife dragged over your face, until you felt it pressed right underneath your eye.

“Please.” Your words were slurred and choked out between sobs and gasps for air. “Please, I’m begging you. Please, I’m pregnant. He f-f…He forced me. He forced me. Please, he forced me, he dragged me here by force, He…he…made me…”

“Shh.” It was almost soothing, the way he shushed you. But the way the blade pressed into your cheek was anything but. The pain came slow, but it stung more than his slap ever could have.

“That’s why you’ve been waiting here, wearing this, hm? Because he forced you?”

You felt blood trickling down your cheek. It didn’t hurt half as much as his words did, though.

“Ah…”

“Mhm, mhm. Do you still want to defy me?"

You shook your head, trying to breathe in hysterically. But there was simply not enough air.

The cut went from your eye down to the corner of your mouth.

There went your vision from a pretty wedding dress, a sweet, young mother picking up her child from daycare. No, you were the Joker. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wouldn’t make it to that part of your life.

If only he hadn’t stopped cutting you. Because the second he did, you felt the next blow, dark and low. His fingers traced a path down your chest, over your stomach and before you could protest, he pressed his thumb against your center. You squeezed your eyes shut and your lip quivered, a silent plea on your lips.

Not this, not him. Not someone who wasn’t your man. But he couldn’t have cared less, right?

The blade followed the path his fingers had drawn and soon enough you heard the material of your panties being cut open.

Your chest heaved rapidly, your nails biting bloody marks into your palms.

Maybe it would be over sooner than later.

Maybe he would violate you and then leave you to it. Maybe, he’d let you live at least.

Still, you couldn’t choke back the sob that threatened to drown you, when you felt the knife wander down further. The cold metal pressed against your core, sideways, and you forced yourself to stay still. You were sure, one wrong movement and you’d end up maimed for life.

For the little life you had left.

He kept the knife pressed against the bundle of nerves underneath him, while you felt two of his disgusting fingers press against your entrance.

“There, there. I thought that’s what little sluts like you want.”

He pressed forward and you cried out in horror and pain.

“Please, stop!”

You didn’t mean to speak, you knew what always happened whenever you opened your mouth, but your body reacted before the rest of you could.

He stopped for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re such a dumb fucking whore.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what he did to you! I didn’t ask him to, I didn’t want him to!” The words spilled from your mouth like wildfire. “What I said is true, he did force me here! But I fell in love with him and then you talked to me that day, and then you followed us home and I just- He just- He saw your gun and then he- And then he-“

“Shut up!” His free hand shot out and squeezed your face so tightly, it made you gasp. “Shut the hell up, will you? I’m not doing this, because you fell in love with him. Fuck! Do you think I care about his shit?!” He gritted his teeth and leaned down enough to be right in your face. “You wanna know what your motherfucking boyfriend did? Hm? You wanna know?” His lip quivered again and his eyes were hard enough to cut you open.

“He had my brother killed.”

That made you freeze. More than you already were.

His words sent a sharp pang through your chest and you opened and closed your mouth several times.

“What?”

“Ah, so he didn’t tell you. How fortunate.” He scoffed and exhaled through gritted teeth. “He kept asking me where your bitch of a mother is. And I told him, that I don’t know. Which I don’t. I haven’t seen her in months, right? And he kept asking me. Fuck. I told him that I don’t know. I told him! And what did he do? What did he do the next fucking day?!” The hand he used to hold your face was shaking and so was the rest of him. The crazed look in his eyes intensified to a degree where you were genuinely frightened – genuinely believed you would be dead soon.

“The next day, he showed me a picture on my own phone.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “My twin brother.” He briefly closed his eyes, before they shot open again.

“Someone had…Someone had shot him. Right in the face.” He swallowed and bit the inside of his cheek, scrunching up his nose. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he did it himself. But no, he was here, busy fucking you. Getting you pregnant. Fuck!”

He slammed the blade back into the mattress, pressing his fingers back against you, forcing your legs apart.

“I’ll fuck you ‘til you die.” He spat out.

“I didn’t know!” You sobbed out. “Please! I had no idea! Had I known-“

It was a soft sound, a gentle thud, somewhere in the apartment. And what started as a soft breath, quickly turned into running steps.

An emergency. An emergency indeed.

He had heard it, too. And the second he turned his head to look at the open door, you finally broke free from your haze.

He wanted to kill you. Your baby.

Your elbow shot out, hitting the side of his face hard enough for an ugly cracking sound to be heard. He gasped loudly and pulled back, just enough so that you could somehow scramble back from underneath him. He doubled over and pressed a hand against his temple.

The door flew open and there he was.

Oh God.

The fraction of a second. A single second.

His eyes were wide in horror, in disbelief, in surprise.

And then that was all gone. And all that was left was pure, unbridled, murderous fury.

He stormed forward and yanked the intruder off of you, leaving you finally able to breathe again.

You somehow stumbled over, getting on your knees, unable to tear your eyes off the scene.

He slammed him into the wall and began to throw punches left and right, but not in the way one might see in a movie. Not even in an underground fight. Maybe he didn’t even want to kill him. No, he wanted to cause as much damage as possible and watch him suffer.

He was shaking. Shaking in fury, shaking in rage. His fingers itching to murder. And his eyes were black.

“I found your little sister, Elliot.” He spat through gritted teeth.

The man, whose name seemed to be Elliot, slumped down against the wall, but his head perked up, his eyes immediately shooting open in alarm, despite the way his face was slowly swelling beyond recognition.

“What?” He coughed up blood. “No. I don’t have-“

“She lives in France. Clever move, Elliot, really. Thought I wouldn’t find your little French whore of a sister.”

He spun around and dragged the knife from the mattress, making you flinch. He crouched down beside him and tightened his grip on the knife.

“I wish you would live long enough to see what I have planned for her. You see, I’m a loyal man, so I won’t fuck her myself. But fuck, I’ll gather enough men to break that dumb little cocktail waitress. They’ll split her in two.”

Elliot’s eyes widened impossibly, shaking his head frantically. “No…no…no, please, she’s only twenty-six…Fuck, no, please, please, please, I’m sorry, I…”

Suddenly – his gaze met yours.

You flinched and stumbled back against the wall, inhaling sharply.

“Please, you can’t let him do that! Please!”

All you could do was stare at him.

But then his voice cut through the silence. “Get out.”

Your eyes snapped back to him, to the way his eyes were blazing with murderous intent.

“I- I-“

“Get out!”

He didn’t need to say it a third time.

You stumbled to your legs, shaking and nearly falling over, but you caught yourself in the last moment. Your legs somehow carried you outside and you ran and ran, until you reached the bathroom. You collapsed on the floor, gripping the edge of the toilet tightly. You retched and retched, aiming for the toilet and ending up puking all over yourself.

You were still shaking.

Still sobbing.

And with every pained gasp you heard from the bedroom, with every grunt, every plea for help – a little part of you died.

You had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? More? Less?

You lay curled up between the toilet and the wall, your stomach grumbling in unease. You had never felt so disgusting before, covered in blood, sweat, your own puke and the lingering touch of a dead man.

When you heard his footsteps approach, you couldn’t even lift your head.

He knelt down beside you, the movement frantic and concerned. His warm hands cupped your face, forcing you to look up at him despite your terror, despite your pain.

“No.” You heard him whisper, his fingers brushing softly over the cut on your cheek.

It sounded watery, like he was speaking through a tunnel. Everything was distant.

Was this how death felt?

He gathered you in his arms and your head lolled forward, resting against his chest. He held you like that for a long while, but you barely felt it. You were shaking like a leaf, but the sobs had died.

You had died.

“He- Wanted-“

“Did he hurt you?” He was trying to stay calm, trying for your sake. There was not much he could do to retaliate to a dead man, anyway.

“Is he dead?” You choked out.

“Don’t think about that now. Did he hurt you?”

You begrudgingly shook your head. “Not…enough to…”

You had no idea what you were even trying to say.

“I’ll take you to the hospital.” He said lowly as he attempted to get up. You caught his wrist before he could.

“He didn’t.” You choked out. “I’m not- He didn’t-“

Your gaze followed down his to your exposed body. His eyes were wide and fearful.

“Did he…”

“No! He didn’t…I mean he did try to…He…You came in.” You whispered weakly. “You came in, before he could.”

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, before he pressed you against him, cradling your head against his chest. His heart was racing in his chest and his hand pressed your head into his embrace almost painfully tight.

“This is all my fault.” He whispered hoarsely. “I lost the chip and by the time I realized it, I…This is all my fault.”

Of all the things he had done wrong, you wouldn’t let him take the blame for that.

“No.” You whispered, slowly coming out of your haze. Everything was still blurry, but the shaking began to lessen ever so slightly. “It’s not your fault. It’s his.”

“If I didn’t-“

“We’re not discussing this.” You whispered. “It’s not your fault.”

He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t want to overwhelm you any further, you could tell. And you were grateful for that.

“I’m going to take you to the hospital regardless. The stress-“

“Okay.” You whispered. “But please, I…Just let me…Give me…”

He pulled back enough to look at you, his expression pained. “I’ll take care of you. I promise, I will. And I will never leave you alone again. No one will ever touch you again.” He gritted out.

You didn’t protest when he sat you in the tub. He knelt beside it, gently washing everything off you. You just sat there, your chin resting on your knees. The warmth of the water felt good on your skin, it helped against the cruel cold in your bones. But it did little to comfort you. Nothing could ever erase the pain, the fear you felt as you lay there, entirely helpless and frozen.

You barely felt his hands as he gently cleaned you up. You closed your eyes when the warm water ran down your hair and face, but you didn’t flinch.

After a while you felt his hand gently cup your cheek. He made you look at him and you didn’t hesitate to.

“Can you ever forgive me?” He whispered barely audible.

You had never seen him like this. So…desperate.

You were sure, you would never forget the look in his eyes when he reached for the knife. The moment he saw what was going on.

You had been terrified then. And also incredibly relieved.

But you couldn’t help but ask yourself, since that was inside of him…would you always be safe? Would your child always be safe?

But then your expression softened. He looked genuinely terrified. Terrified of the possibility that he had lost your love, your trust. You.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” You whispered hoarsely. “I love you.”

He swallowed and averted his gaze, gently tightening his grip on you.

A few minutes later, you were still damp but covered in a big, fluffy bathrobe. He led you to the other bedroom and lay you down gently, pulling the covers up to your chin.

“I’ll get the doctor here instead.” He murmured. “I don’t want you to go anywhere right now.”

You didn’t protest. He sat by your side, squeezing your hand and staring down at it.

His guilt was eating him alive. And that was eating you.

You gently took his hand and pressed the softest kiss against his knuckles.

“I was just afraid. I’ll be okay.” You whispered.

But he didn’t look convinced. The pain in his eyes was so apparent, so real. You had never before seen him like that.

After a while, you slowly looked up at him. “Did you really have his brother killed?”

He stiffened slightly, but he didn’t avoid your gaze. “Yes.” He said quietly.

You were silent for a while. “Why?”

“He said things about you.” He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “Threatened you. I should have killed him back then already.”

Your guts churned and you averted your gaze.

“Your mother is in Korea.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Maybe you were indeed dead. And maybe it was better that way.

“What?” You breathed out.

You felt him nod. “She’s here. She’s in Seoul.”

He bit his lip and you kept your gaze glued to the ceiling.

“I know where she is.”

You closed your eyes and tried to sort out your thoughts. A list of pros and cons. And then you thought back to the baby in your belly. The tiny human, dependent on you. Tiny fingers and toes. Small teeth. A smile, covered in chocolate and ice cream.

Someone to love.

Someone to love unconditionally.

And then you thought back to how you how almost lost it. How your kidneys were giving up. How you had lost one, due to poisoning. You almost lost your baby because of her.

When you looked up at him, your eyes didn’t look like your own.

“I trust you.” Was all that you said.

He didn’t comment on it and he didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. He was a clever man.

He didn’t need words to understand you.

You averted your gaze again, staring up at the ceiling and gently running your thumb over the back of his hand. He loved it when you played with his hands.

He loved it when you leaned on him.

He loved it when you loved him.

He-

“Choi Seo-jin.”

You stopped in your tracks and kept your gaze focused on the ceiling. There was no confusion. You knew it. You knew what he was saying. You knew what it meant.

When you slowly tilted your head to meet his gaze, he was already looking at you. His eyes soft. Softer than ever before.

“My name. It’s Choi Seo-jin.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. There was not much you could say.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke in a voice so soft and silky that it left you feeling breathless.

His name. His name.

“Sorry?” You breathed out.

He nodded. “For not telling you earlier. For not trusting you, when I should have. For…for all the things I have done to you. Everything.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Most of it, you had already forgiven him. Probably everything. Most likely everything.

Sure, you had told to the dead man that he kidnapped, that he forced you to be here and carry his child. But what else should you have said? You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want your baby to die. And so you lied.

It wasn’t really a lie, was it? Not a few months ago. But now you knew this was exactly where you belonged.

There was no more curtain, no uncertainty left. No guilt, no unease, no fear.

When you feared him, then you feared him as his partner. Not his victim.

“You don’t have to say that.” You said gently, but he cut you off with a sharp nod.

“Yes, I do.” He exhaled slowly and looked down at your combined hands. “I told you of my father, right? But I didn’t tell you everything.”

You held your breath and simply…let him be.

He smiled, but there was no mirth wheresoever. His eyes were cold, but not directed at you.

At the memory.

“I still hear my mother screaming, you know? Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I’m sure I can hear her. When I wake up then and see you lying beside me…It’s the only thing to bring me back.”

He bit his lip and shook his head, still not looking at you.

“He told me that no one would ever be able to love me. That no one could ever love a weak little bastard like me. Called my mother a whore. Said she slept around. He wouldn’t even be sure whose or what I was. Bastard was his go-to name for me.” He sighed and shook his head, gently playing with your fingers. “He said no one could ever love me. And everyone who ever said they did would lie.”

That was when he finally looked up to meet your gaze.

“And I believed him.” He whispered. “I was sure that no one could ever love me. No one would ever trust me. No one would ever look at me and see their lover, their husband. Their protector. They’d see me for what I was. A bastard.” He shook his head again, his voice dropping low. “I thought if I tested you enough, if I hurt you enough, you’d run. I was sure. You were a tough girl. Tough as nails. I did the most vile things to you, but you? You never tried to run. I tried to kill you and what did you do? You told me you loved me.” He clenched his jaw as he spoke. “And I was…I was so fucking confused. Why would you love me? You had to be lying. But no matter what I did, you didn’t run.” His voice turned contemplative, his gentle grip on your hand never wavering.

“He came to my room, you know.” He swallowed against something in his throat and you were sure the sound of your heart breaking was audible.

“Every so often. He…” He closed his eyes. He couldn’t say it. And he didn’t need to. Instead, you gently squeezed his hand, just a little bit tighter than usual.

Your eyes filled with tears, but you bit them back. You wanted so bad to be strong for him, especially now. He slowly opened his eyes and met your gaze, a tiny, weak smile on his lips.

“I couldn’t control it.” He whispered and slowly shook his head. “No matter what I did. I was never in control. Everything just happened. And I could only let it happen.” He clenched his jaw tighter, his grip on your hand was shaking now. “And I told myself I would never, never feel that way again. Never. And I didn’t.”

He sighed deeply. “But I think I got a little ahead of myself. And now…And you…” His gaze raked over your face, over your damp cheeks and he smiled again.

“I gave you control. I know it wasn’t much. It’s not…easy. But I’m trying. I’m really trying.”

He reached out a hand, his palm against your cheek warm and gentle. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“You never took advantage of it.” He murmured. “I saw it in your face, in your eyes. That one time you slapped me or whenever I let you be in control…It’s almost like it’s hurting you physically.”

His smile widened, just the tiniest bit. “I know it now. I know that my father was nothing but a liar. And you love me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you nodded. It was all you could do.

“Good.” He whispered. “Because…”

He took a slow breath and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against it.

“Because I intend to marry you and make this whole thing work. I’m going to be your husband and you will be my wife. And this…” He gently pressed his free hand against your stomach. “This is our baby. And no one will ever touch our baby. We’re going to love it. And I will kill anyone who ever tries to touch either of you again.”

His voice was so firm and convincing that you were sure. He meant every word.

You couldn’t even protest. You didn’t want to.

You would be his wife.

And your baby was going to get all the love the both of you had been missing.

And then?

And then he told you everything. Everything from who he was and where he came from. Every quirk, every ick, every pain, every wish, every fear. Everything. Until you were sure.

You were meant to be there.

You were meant to be his.

And had it been him who wrote the text, who uploaded it, who decided to share his thoughts with the world. Had it been him, not you.

You would have done the same.

After an eternity of just talking and letting go of everything that dragged down his soul into the strange abyss that was his misery, he finally looked at you.

“Did I miss anything?” He murmured, before he leaned down to press a kiss against your temple.

You swallowed and nodded. “You didn’t tell me where you work.”

He sighed deeply and leaned back. “You’ll love me regardless?”

You didn’t need to think about it. You simply nodded.

You would.

He nodded as well and leaned down, just enough so you felt his breath against your skin, like the gentle kiss of a sweet spring day after a long, bitter winter. His fingers gently played with your hair, the movement absentminded.

His eyes softened even more and he looked at you with nothing less than pure trust.

“Tell me, darling…Have you ever played the Squid Game before?”

_________________________________________

Tag list 1 :@mitsuki-dreamfree@kpopsmutty69@heroine-chique@vkeyy@mizuwki@blu-brrys@z0mbi345@yourpointbreak@ayieayee@freddyzeppsworld@lola11111111@indifitel6661@salesmanlover08@laurenbenoit70@lalalaa2210@lila-marshal@auspicious-lilana@0-aubrie0@lovelyaegyo@theredvelvetbitch@violentbluess@muriels-lover@dorayakissu@eviebuggg@muchwita@ririgy@strxlemon@obsessedwthdilfs@kiwilov3@misty-q @koigguki

Author's note 2: Sorry for traumatizing you, guys. I hope whatever I wrote made any sense...My brain is a mess, it's 2.30am and I'm going to sleep now. I loveeeee you! 🤍

[ghoulishhx]

I was thinking about this last night, imagine like tipsy reader comes home from a night out whatever. her and frank had weird tension for as long as they've known eachother, but they're close enough to where he can come over whenever he needs. she walks in to find him sat beaten up and bloody on her couch, and frank is aghast as he's never really seen her in anything like what she's wearing(possibly some pretty dress, whatever fits the vibes the best) maybe a sweet lil moment or more happens🤭

sorry if this seems like blabbering, i tried to make is cohesive😭

this request is just toooo CUTE. and noo don't worry about blabbering, i understood completely and i hope i delivered for you!!

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

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Pairing: Neighbour!Frank x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: fluff, a LOT of it, mutual pining, tipsy reader, injured frank, making out and sexual themes so MDNI please thank you, sweetheart frank, written with plus size reader in mind!, praise

Wordcount: 2k

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ friday i'm in love

You and your neighbour Frank have gotten into a routine, one you’ve come to adore and hold close to your heart. 

He comes over, you patch him up no questions asked, you feed him a home cooked meal and he helps where he can, fixing your appliances and building furniture for example. You truly love his presence, he grounds you from all the nonsense you go through when you’re not with him, always lending you an ear for your vents, offering advice (also offering to “sort out” the pricks at work giving you trouble.). There’s never really a moment you two are not together, the only things coming between you being your day jobs. You wouldn’t change this for the world.

It’s Friday night, and Frank is obviously beat up. Patrol on a Friday night was always a lot, compared to the rest of the weekdays. Drunk men causing havoc, committing crimes heavily under the influence always made the weekends more work for Frank. 

Tonight was just like any other night, as he stumbles home late at night, bloodied and bruised. He doesn't think twice before letting himself into your apartment with the spare key you gifted him. Entering your home, he notices the lack of lights. Strange, he thought to himself, you’re a night owl and never sleep before 2am. He’s always greeted by you rushing to the door to give him a hug, ushering him into the warmth of your abode. The lack of your greeting rings alarm bells through his head, and he doesn’t hesitate, reaching to his belt to pull out his sidearm, mind racing with thoughts that you were in danger. Flickering on his torch, he silently paces through the open planned room, his eyes gaze to the table where he finds a note.

“Gone out with some friends Frankie, I’ll be home about midnight. Dinner and beer are in the fridge xo”

His shoulders instantly drop, tension washing away as his eyes scan over the note, his breathing settles knowing you were okay and you were gonna be home soon. He moves to your fridge, finding tupperware with leftovers from your dinner you had presumably before you left, next to an ice cold beer, Frank’s favourite. He practically groans at the sight, wondering what he did in his past lives to deserve you here and now. Within a flash, he’s converted the food to a bowl, slammed that sucker in the microwave as he cracks open his beer. He is so comfortable existing within your space, your home feeling like his even when you’re not there. It pains him knowing he will have to leave tonight, just like it does every night. If he could have it his way, you would be by his side 24/7, holding you while you slept soundly in his arms, kissing the top of your head as he plays with your hair…

The click of the front door’s lock being turned pulls him from his thoughts of you, his breath hitches in his throat as he catches a glimpse at you. Fuck do you look gorgeous. Your hair is loosely curled, having dropped throughout the night of dancing and drinking. The dress you’re wearing has Frank in a chokehold. He’s convinced you would look stunning in nothing but a trash bag, but there’s something about the way the soft silk of your dress hugging your curves just right, accentuating the dips in your hips and the plush skin of your stomach (something you were really self conscious about before leaving your house tonight, but it's one of Frank’s favourite things about you.”, he can’t help but stare at your chest like a teenage boy. You had no idea how perfect you looked, no idea about the effect you were having on your neighbour.

“My eyes are up here, Frankie.” you giggle, slurring your words as you stumble into the room.

Frank can’t help but look away, sensing the blush creep up his neck due to you clocking him. You continue to giggle to yourself as you toss your purse onto the console cabinet next to the door, peeling your heels off and cursing at the blisters already beginning to form. The action of taking your shoes off causes you to tumble, however Frank manages to catch you in time, wrapping one of his strong arms around your waist, preventing you from falling on your ass.

“Mmm my hero.” you whisper in his ear as you wrap your arms around his neck, placing a hard kiss to the side of his face. He breathes in your smell, your vanilla perfume invades his nose, his favourite smell in the world, with a hint of liquor.

“Are you drunk, sweetheart?” he asks softly, such an obvious question but he couldn’t help from ask it.

“Maybee..” you laugh, grabbing his head with your hands and angling him to look at you. Your face twists with confusion as you notice all of the cuts and scrapes littered across his face.

“Frankie, you’re hurt. Why didn’t you say when I came in?”

“It’s not that bad darlin’, don't’ worry ‘m fine.” he says with his gruff tone, looking you dead in your eyes, the colour completely covered by your dilated pupils.

“Shush, c’mon let's get you cleared up.” you raise to your feet, smoothening your dress and reaching your hand out to help him up. Seeing him injured sobered you up a lot, however he raises an eyebrow at you, as if to say are you sure you’re not too drunk.

“Don’t give me that grumpy look Frankie, I’m not that drunk, just a little tipsy. I won’t stab you, swear.” you’re still holding his hand, the realisation makes you drop it instantly as you turn away to avoid showing him how flustered you were from such a simple touch.

“Ya better not doll, not lettin’ ya get rid of me that easily.” he chuckles darkly as he looks you up and down, making his way to the bathroom and pulling out the fold up chair you keep in there for this very situation. You join him in the cool tiled room, but before you did anything you had to take your makeup off, it had been on too long and it was borderline overstimulating. You pull your makeup remover wipes from the cabinet under the sink, pulling one out as you wipe it across your face, smearing makeup everywhere as you clean yourself.

Frank watched in awe as you did such a simple mundane task in front of him, surprised at how aroused he was just from watching you wipe your face. He can’t take your eyes off you, you were addicting. Frank would happily watch you do anything, being as enthralled with you as he was.

“What are you looking at Frank?” you question, feeling his eyes stare holes into the side of your face.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful sweetheart.” he whispers, surprised at his own admission. He was too transfixed on your movements to stop himself from thinking before he spoke. You giggle brings him back to earth as he clears his throat, as if to pass it off as a cough.

“You think I’m beautiful?” you softly speak, turning to fully face him now, makeup pretty much fully removed as you lean on the counter. Your eyes meet and the air in the room feels much thicker than before, electricity coursing through the space as you look intently into one another’s eyes. 

“Think? I know darlin’, most damn beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” he mumbles, wetting his lips with his tongue as he takes your form in for the millionth time tonight.

Your breathing intensifies, your stomach flips from his compliment. You had secretly been harbouring feelings for your neighbour for a while, but never believed they were/could be reciprocated. You put the used wipe down, as you saunter over him and climb into his lap, wrapping your legs over his thighs. His hands shoot to your waist to keep you stable.

“Well I think you’re beautiful Frank.”

“Tsk, ya dunno what you’re sayin’ sweet girl, if you were sober you’d feel different.” he grumbles, a sly smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. Not once do his eyes move from your face, taking in every freckle, bump and ridge, the plumpness of your lips swooning him.

“I’m pretty much sobered up now Frank, stop worrying.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ve thought you were beautiful for a while, y’know..”

“Likewise angel.. You dunno what ya do t’me.” he whispers, his breath catches your face due to only being mere inches apart now, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity up your spine.

“Can I kiss you, pretty girl?”

“Please.”

He doesn’t wait a second longer, placing his lips upon your softer ones. The kiss begins tentatively, slow and explorative, but it’s not long before it grows hungrier, more desperate. Your mixed pent up emotions for one another finally escaping inside of each other’s mouths.

You wrap your fingers up in his hair, tugging slightly as his lips leave yours and land on your neck, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, eliciting moans from you.

“Fuck babydoll, I’ve waited too long to have you like this..” he mumbles into your neck, the vibrations of his words sending arousal straight to your panties. 

“Need you.. Need you so bad Frankie.. Please touch me..” you beg, peppering kisses along the top of his head as you grind yourself down onto his rock hard bulge. He can’t help but buck his hips into yours.

“Eager aren’t we?” he teases, whispering in your ear. “As much as I wanna take ya up on that doll, wanna make sure you’ll fully remember our first time.” you go to argue this but he stops you “I know you’re pretty much sober baby, but I want it to be special for ya.. That okay with you?” you sigh in defeat, nodding your head. “Attagirl.” he places another kiss on your lips as he grabs the flesh of your ass, making you gasp as he grins, knowing damn well how much he’s teasing you.

You roll your eyes as you climb off of him, reaching under the sink to grab your first aid kit, having completely neglected the sole purpose of why you were both in the cramped en-suite bathroom. Patching Frank up takes no time at all, only minor injuries tonight that a good wipe with antiseptic and a bandage could fix. The entire time you were working on him, his hands never left your hips, rubbing comforting circles around the curve. 

“All done Frankie.” you lean down and kiss the top of his head.

“Thank you babygirl, I’ll get out ya hair, let ya relax after your night out alright?” he stands from his seat, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“Stay.” you mumble into his chest, breathing him in, basking in the closeness.

“Please?” you tilt your head up to him, resting your chin on his chest, giving him your best puppy dog eyes to further convince him.

“Course I will doll, anythin’ for ya.” he kisses the top of your head, as you pull away and lead him out of the bathroom to your bedroom. You don’t bother making him turn around as you unsheath yourself from your dress, allowing the fabric to pool at your feet. Frank uses as much self control he can muster to not take you then and there, remembering his words he told you earlier on about waiting for the right time. He shudders a deep breath as he removes his shirt and jeans too, watching you climb into bed and hold out your arms for him to join you, and that he does.

He climbs beside you and pulls you snug into his chest, spooning you. Your eyelids begin to fall heavy, being completely at peace in his grasp. You hum appreciatively, after fantasizing about this moment for months now you finally have it, you finally have him.

“Sleep well sweet girl, I’ll be here in the mornin’, promise.” he whispers in your hair, as you mumble an incoherent response, drifting off to sleep. It’s not long until he joins you, feeling just as at ease tucked up in bed with you as you feel. 

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a/n: i know the gif is raunchy as shit, but i had to use it because #smash

my inbox is open!

[himasgod]

bubbly sunshine reader x grumpy moon leona ......nnnm,mm.....ss..,.

LEONA X READER

Where you are his ray of sunshine, and he your grumpy moon <3

The sun shines brightly that day on the grounds of NRC, but even that isn't as bright as you.

Literally, you.

"Good morning, Leona!" you sing in your cheerful tone as you peek into the usual corner where he sleeps among the flowers.

The grumpy lion, half-buried in the shade of a tree, covers his face with his arm.

"You again?"

"Of course! You promised me you'd study for the Potions exam, remember? And I'm your official tutor now!"

You sit down next to him without waiting for an invitation, unfolding your notes decorated with colorful drawings.

Leona sighs. His tail twitches lazily, as if debating whether to give you a swipe or simply resign himself to your presence.

"I don't need to study. I have photographic memory."

"And yet you failed Crewel's last exam!" You thrust a piece of paper with a giant red 3 in front of his face.

"You're not fooling me, Leona."

He pushes the paper away with a huff, half annoyed, half surrendered. Then he turns and looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"Why do I even bother arguing with you? You're like a nuisance on legs. That sparkles."

"Thanks!" you respond with a radiant smile, as if it hadn't been an insult.

And there it is. That's the reason he hasn't kicked you out yet. That silly, invincible sweetness, that warmth that even his cynicism can't quite extinguish. Or for example, other day...

"Leonaaaa," you sing as you enter in his dorm in Savannaclaw.

"I brought snacks!"

He doesn't answer.

"Ruggie told me you haven't been out in two days. Are you sick?"

Instead of a complaint or an insult, you hear something almost unheard of: a snort.

You find him lying on his bed, frowning, more serious than usual.

"…What's wrong?" you ask, lowering your voice now, sitting closer. "Did you have a bad night?"

"I'm just tired."

"Leona. You can tell me, you know? Not everything has to be a battle. I'm here for you, even when you don't want to study or eat cookies with me."

There's a long silence.

And then, he whispers:

"I'm sick of pretending not to care. Carrying expectations, only for everyone to assume I'll fail. Being second place. Always."

"Oh, Leona…" your voice softens like a caress. "What if I told you that, to me, you're not second at anything?"

"Tch. Don't say nonsense," he replies, turning his face away.

"It's not nonsense," you say firmly, taking his hand.

"You're strong, smart, stubborn as a mule, yes, but you're also someone who deserves to be truly loved!"

He looks at you then. Without a trace of sarcasm.

"And you… love me?"

Your smile widens, and your cheeks tinge with a faint blush.

"Of course I do! Even though you're grumpy and half-cat and sometimes smell like grass."

He narrows his eyes.

"I'm not a cat. I'm a lion."

"So I can say I'm your personal sunshine? Cuz lions love to lie in the sun, don't they?"

A low growl. A sigh. And then, a hand rises to your head to stroke it lightly.

"Maybe you're more useful than I thought, herbivore."

"That was almost a compliment!"

"Don't get used to it."

Or, weeks later...

"Leona? Are you studying… voluntarily?"

"Shut up and sit down. I need you to explain this to me again."

"I knew it! My sun is melting your icy heart!"

"…I'm going to bite you if you don't stop."

"I'd let you if you promise to kiss me afterward!"

And this time, Leona doesn't growl. This time, he rolls her eyes… and leans in to give you that kiss.

Because at the end of the day, even the proudest lion can love the sun that dared to shine for him.

[nene-yasfics]

there's a glint in sanji's eyes as he watches you and your daughter snuggle.

mimi is tiny but chubby, all soft skin and rosy cheeks, old enough to babble but still too small to actually talk. when you found out you were pregnant, sanji had been elated but scared — life as a pirate isn't exactly made for a pregnant woman, let alone for an infant. still, he was happy and was ready to leave it all behind if it meant continuing to live a life by your side with your newfound companion.

but after a quick talk with the other strawhats, he was relieved to understand that the others had no intention of making either of you leave. everyone offered their support and promise to help where they could, whether it be during an attack or a particularly rough night of crying.

it made sanji's heart swell — the way everyone adapted so quickly to her. before anyone realized, battles became more and more scarce, attacks weren't as reckless as they used to be and the small girl's laugh had become something each one of them would go to the ends of the earth for.

and looking at you now — laughing with robin about something, with mimi's cheek pressed on your chest as she observes luffy while he makes face at her, the sun painting your skin orange — he thinks that he wouldn't change it at all, not even one bit.

you notice his staring, raising an eyebrow at him. "is there something on my face?"

he laughs, shaking his head. he cuts a piece of strawberry from the basket at the centre of the table — a miracle that luffy hasn't already reduced it to smithens, really — and offers it to mimi, whose eyes light up and mouth opens, slightly raising her head, to not-so-gracefully accept the food he's handing her.

she chomps down on the strawberry as well as on his fingers, wrapping her small hand around them to keep him in place as she continues munching. she could be doing anything — even eating his fingers away — and sanji would still adore her in any way possible.

soon enough, her little eyes start to droop. "tired, baby?" you ask her, pressing your lips on the top of her head. she nods a bit, her gnawing at sanji's fingers eventually stopping, leaving them covered in spit.

your boyfriend rises from his seat, taking her in his arms. "I'll take her to bed," he mumbles, earning a soft smile from you. "thank you, sanji." he moves to press a kiss on your cheek, "you deserve a break. chat with the others, eat what you couldn't while holding her– I know she gave you a hard time while I was cooking."

"always so attentive," you muse, the laughter of your comrades as they enjoy themselves almost a mere background sound. "but, well, she has taken her clinginess to me from you, babe. not that I am complaining, but she looks so much like you under certain lights."

sanji can’t exactly deny it; his little girl does look like she’s his clone, and even acts as one as soon as she enters the kitchen. my little food critic, he calls her when she stomps — more like crawls, because she has yet to learn how to properly walk — her way in like she owns the place, babbling nonsense that can translate into make me food, slave.

sanji brushes a curl out of her face and holds her tighter, moving down to the living quarters and into your shared room. mimi has her own cot in there, even if franky is working on making her her own little room, and sanji carefully lays her down, smiling at the sight of his daughter curling up in her blanket as soon as he tucks her in. “sleep well, my darling,” he coos, pressing a kiss atop her head.

he gets back up on deck, finally letting himself take out his cigarette pack from his pocket, the lighter with it. you were particularly adamant on not letting your daughter see him smoke, both so that she never gets the idea to imitate her dad and she doesn't have to be around the smoke, so his smoking time has lowered significantly and is now reduced to the small hours without her that he gets.

he takes back the seat next to yours, appreciating the way you're trying some of the things that luffy's rampage had left, quietly listening to robin and nami chatter. "she went down okay?" you softly ask him, barely a whisper, as he lights the cigarette between his lips.

he nods, smiling, puffing out a breath of smoke. "has she ever given me too much trouble?"

you laugh. even if she did, it'd never be too much for him. "no," you hum, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around you. "she never has." 

[critifan-666]

People don't hate Catra & Stolas because they're lgbt.

People hate Catra, because the narrative is saying "abuse is ok. Abuse is love. A harmful person who does nothing but harm gets to come out on top and find happiness anyway. She doesn't deserve it. She didn't earn it. But she still gets it! Isn't she good and redeemed now?"

People hate Stolas, because the narrative is saying "abuse is ok. Actually, he never did any of it; he thinks it's love. We think it is, too. And he just, well, gets to have it! Isn't our abuser cute little guy so cute and precious? Oh also, he's redeemed now."

One thing in common: A story changing gears to completely revolve around a villain who "isn't really that bad", or just wanted happiness. Their sad backstory becomes the excuse, and an abused love interest becomes the justification. Which points to something even worse. The ignorance, and possibly even the values, the writer themself holds.

If you're trying to rationalize and turn abuse into something totally positive in fiction, who's to say you don't practice those exact values in your real life? Who's to say this isn't how you actually view queer love and abusers who just happen to be queer? It just gets excused because they had a sad life and want a boyfriend?

To me, all either character says is, "Abuse can't happen to queer people. And if it does, no it doesn't. Now ignore the depictions of a real life abuser and ship the gay ship already." It's the injustice, the betrayal of the viewer's trust, and a lie so many have been convinced is true. It's the depictions of real life abusers we've all run into before.

Catra and Stolas could've been the greatest characters ever, if the writers didn't lie to themselves about who they've written and the very real people they are depicting. Forget the fact that both have nonsense, loveless, chemistryless relationships that only get rooted for out of being LGBT. Sorry but sprinkling on a little gayness won't cover up the fact that they abuse their own partners & then cry about it (when their partners are ever granted the agency to retaliate).

The better version of both stories would be if the writers weren't strangely fixated on making the villain the suddenly flawless, precious main character. If it stuck to it's themes, if it had any sort of message to say other than "queer love".

I mean, who knew abuser x victim was just that revolutionary? All you gotta do is gay-ify it, and now it's basically the greatest cutest relationship ever! Forget that Stolas coerced Blitz then blamed him for not loving him back (and consequently the narrative), forget that Catra hated Adora so much that she'd smile seeing her "girlfriend" dead, forget that both of them should've been killed off like any ol' Disney villain, becaaaaauuuse Gay Saves The Day!

It might be fiction... but it is just so weird, so fascinating, and such a striking pattern to see in modern writing such as this. The need to redeem everyone, to prioritize making real-life abusers the good guy... Many stories push forward some main idea, theme, or message, and fiction clearly impacts reality. Is Helluva Boss, or SPOP, trying to say something good here?

That's all I can wonder.

[entitled-fangirl]

The middle of war. (P2)

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: The reader is in recovery, and the two must manage life after the incident.

A/n: the High Valyrian is bad. Just... don't look at it

Part 1!

Masterlist

.....................................................................

Her recovery was long and painful, but she managed all the same. 

A few days in, Aemond had swore to take her to see Vhagar. 

The poor girl looked like a mess.

Due to her injury, she was unable to wear the tight corsets she was expected to, not that Aemond cared what she wore.

Hence why she was in a rather flowy dress that practically hung from her. 

He kept a hand on her at all times as they walked through the castle, not only to keep her balanced, but worried she could be taken again if he looked away. 

His anxiety didn't relax until they were with Vhagar. 

Y/n pulled herself away from Aemond and straight to Vhagar, so comfortable with the large beast that she held no fear for her. 

Vhagar's eyes focused on her, resting her head in the dirt to let the woman come near. 

She reached forward, hearing the dragon immediately purr with her touch. 

Aemond couldn't help the slightly amused smirk that came to his lips. Gods, she was a wonder. 

She gently cooed to the dragon as if it was a small puppy, "Pretty girl. I haven't seen you in days. It seems a lifetime."

"You spoil her," Aemond spoke up. 

She turned to him, "She deserves it."

He sighed and neared Vhagar, running his hands over one of her scales as well, "She is not mistreated, I assure you."

"You do owe her an apology," she pointed out. 

A low rumble comes from the dragon. 

Aemond grumbled and shook his head, "Shijetra issa (Forgive me)."

"That's not good enough," she said as she moved her entire body to lean on the dragon's cheek. "You have to mean it. You were so rude."

"I was saving your life!" He reasoned. 

"I do not care-"

"Do not say that." He growled suddenly.

She sighed, "I did not mean it that way. Ziry daoriot gūrogon naejot sagon yelled rȳ (She doesn't deserve to be yelled at)."

Aemond looked up at the saddle. A shudder goes through him when he sees her blood still stain the fabric. "She understands I am not angry with her."

"Does she?"

He huffed, forcing himself to take a deep breath, "Shijetra issa syt issa udra (Forgive me for my words)."

Y/n began to get distracted, her hands running down the large dragon as she began to move. 

He watched her cautiously as if ready to catch her at any moment. 

"You're lucky, you know," she finally said. 

His eye softened, "I know."

She turned to him, "I mean it. I… I would have done anything for a dragon. Especially a gentle giant like her."

Aemond felt his chest tighten. 

Her egg had never hatched. 

"Gevie tala (beautiful girl)," she muttered to Vhagar. Her hands reached out occasionally to fix a scale.

Vhagar purred under all the attention. 

"Kiz. Gevie (Yes, beautiful)." Aemond said as he looked at her.

…

"Brother?" Aemond asked as he stood from his chair in the library. 

Y/n turned to see Aegon standing in the doorway. 

He grinned, "Hello, brother." He quickly rounded everything and bee-lined to the girl, "How are you?"

Her brows furrowed, "'m… fine."

Aegon had never been cruel to her, no. Not the extent he had to Aemond, but he hadn't gone out of his way for her. 

Aegon nodded, "Excellent! That's wonderful news." He sat next to her on the sofa. "I must ask something of you. I need an opinion."

Aemond forced himself to sit back down slowly as he watched the interaction closely.

"Oh," she hummed. "I'm not sure I am of much assistance-"

"-Nonsense." He leans back, getting comfortable on the sofa. "You see, I'm getting Jaehaerys a dagger for his next nameday."

"That is hardly a question for me. Aemond could-"

"-Let me finish!" He said annoyed, "I am getting the handle wrapped. I cannot decide a color."

"That is where I help?" She asked. 

"Yes." He looked up in mock thought, "I'm stuck between green or…" his head lulled to look at her, "…black."

Aemond leaned forward annoyed, "Brother-"

Aegon held a finger up, "Ah. I did not ask you."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "I suppose you wish me to say green."

"I don't wish you to say anything but the color you believe best." He grinned. 

"Aegon," Aemond tried again. 

"I am your king!" Aegon yelled, "Do speak to me like one."

Silence filled the room.

"Green," she finally said. "Green would look just fine. Jaehaerys is a fortunate boy."

"He is," Aegon said as he studied her. "He'll be quite handsome, won't he?"

She tilted her head, "I suppose he will. Time will tell."

"And you're a pretty girl, aren't you?"

She could practically feel Aemond's shoulders move back, "I'm… I'm sorry?"

"Your king says you're pretty."

"Oh. T…Thank you, my king."

Aegon looks over to Aemond, seeing him practically seething. He grins before standing, "Green it shall be then!"

He begins to leave before pausing in the doorway, "Oh. And pretty girl?"

Y/n looks over to him, "Yes, my king?"

"You said green is a fine color. Wear it when we all sup tonight."

Aemond felt like tearing the king's throat out.

When the door shut behind Aegon, she asked her husband, "What did I do?"

"He's been acting strange since you left." He sneered. 

The door opened. "Prince. Princess. A letter."

Her eyes widened.

Aemond shot up before she could move, adamant about keeping her movement down to a minimum. "I shall take it."

The servant left quickly and Aemond unraveled the note as fast as he could, his eye roaming over the scribbled handwriting.

"Well?" She asked in hope. 

Aemond hummed and his head tilted as he read it again. 

She huffed and got up. 

Only then did his eye look over to her, "Hey."

A hand shot to her forehead and she stumbled.

He quickly moved to her, "No, no, no." His hand moved around her waist, "Sit back down. Sit down."

She sat down with a huff and Aemond sat next to her, "It's from your mother."

"Read it to me."

Aemond looked back down at it.

"The Prince and Princess, I am most overjoyed at the recovery of the princess. As precious as she has become on both sides, I did not imagine her being caught in the crossfire.   May the gods watch her no matter how the war may end. I do not bluff when I say your letter was most surprising. And as much as I despise doing so, I must thank you, Prince Aemond, for it being sent. I had lost much sleep in the days before in worry.  Please tell her I love her."

Aemond looked back up at his wife, "Please do not expect more letters like this."

She nodded with teary eyes, "I understand."

He reached up and brushed hair from her face, "You're too good."

"Hmm?"

He smiled lightly, "Too good. Too… optimistic. It's sickening at times."

She let out a light chuckle as she wiped her cheek, "I do not believe you."

"You're right." He leaned in and kissed her gently, "You could not sicken me even if you tried." He pulled away with a smirk, "Are you truly going to wear green tonight?"

She faked a grimace, "Now perhaps I'll be sick."

He let out an amused chuckle, "Such is life, my sweet." He sighed and leaned back on the sofa, "But don't worry. I'll rip it off you just the same."

............................................................

[milunalupin]

Hello! Hogwarts Legacy request! Sebastian confronts Ominis on why he always seems to give in to MC so easily. Ominis can either completely deny his feelings or acknowledge them, but if the latter, he sadly gives reasons as to why he believes she’d never choose him.

…and MC may or may not have been eavesdropping the whole time…

a/n: i apologize for the wait, but thank you so much for your request darling ! i hope you like this <3

— amoureuse

ominis gaunt x reader ★ 1k words

Ominis, who always seemed to be so quiet, so reserved, had never been one to reveal his feelings openly. But lately, there was something different about him, a softness even his best friend hasn't experienced, especially when it came to you.

Sebastian has been noticing it for several weeks now. How Ominis’ voice would soften when he spoke to you, how he seemed to always be the first to offer help, his usual sharp wit replaced by an unexpected tenderness. Sebastian had to admit that it was confusing, especially considering the fact that his friend had always been so opposed to anything regarding relationships. But there was something different when you were around. And Sebastian, ever the nosy one, couldn’t ignore it any longer.

He found him in the common room after class, seated in his usual velvet chair in the corner.

“You’ve been acting strange lately,” Sebastian said, his tone casual, but with an undercurrent of something more serious. "Especially with her."

Ominis paused, his fingers absently picking at a stray thread on the arm of the chair he was seated in, his face showing no emotion, though Sebastian knew him well enough to see the subtle shift in his posture. "What do you mean?" Ominis asked, his voice deliberately neutral.

"You know exactly what I mean," Sebastian smirked, stepping closer. "Our very pretty friend. You always give in to her. No matter what she asks, no matter what she does. You act like a lovesick fool, yet you do nothing about it."

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Ominis replied stiffly, his voice flat. “I treat her the same as anyone else. Except for Garreth, the git.”

Sebastian scoffed. “It’s obvious to everyone, Ominis. You’re always so careful with her, so accommodating. You could never argue with her. Don’t pretend you don’t feel something.”

Sebastian watched him, waiting for the inevitable admission. But instead, Ominis let out a sigh, one that sounded more like resignation than frustration.

"Fine," Ominis muttered, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You want the truth?"

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Of course."

Ominis took a deep breath, his fingers still tugging at the tiny thread, as though he were grounding himself. "I... I do feel something. I can’t help it. But it doesn’t matter, Sebastian. She would never choose me."

Sebastian’s eyes widened, confusion and disbelief flashing across his face. “What do you mean ‘she’d never choose you’? You’ve been a better friend to her than half the people in this school – definitely better than me. If anyone deserves her, it’s you!”

Ominis shook his head, a faint chuckle escaping his lips, though it was hollow and tinged with bitterness. “You think she’d choose someone like me? A Gaunt. A blind, cursed, and broken Gaunt?”

Sebastian took a step back, startled by the sudden sharpness in Ominis' voice.

“I can’t give her what she deserves,” Ominis continued, his tone softening, but the weight of his words settling heavily between them. “She deserves someone who can see her, who can be her equal. I’m... not that.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. "Ominis, that’s nonsense. You’re one of the most brilliant, kindest, and loyal people I know. She’d never think any of that pureblood shit matters. And she sure as hell doesn't see your blindness as something that would stand in the way of… well, anything."

Ominis was quiet for a long while, his voice a mere whisper when he finally spoke again. "She deserves someone who can protect her, who can give her a future... a life full of happiness. Someone who isn’t constantly haunted by his family’s name, or by the things I've done. Someone who isn’t me."

Sebastian’s heart clenched at his friend’s words. He wanted to argue, to tell him that none of that mattered, but he knew Ominis well enough to understand that this wasn’t about logic—it was about fear. Fear of being inadequate, of being unworthy.

“I know you’re trying to protect her,” Sebastian said, his voice softer now, “but you’re wrong, Ominis. You’re more than enough, your past doesn't define who you are. And you and I know better than anyone, she's not the type of girl that needs protecting.”

Ominis didn’t respond right away. The silence between them felt thick, and Sebastian could feel the weight of his friend’s emotions pressing in, too heavy to ignore.

It was then that Sebastian noticed a faint sound from the shadows down the hall. A slight rustling, a breath held too long. His eyes flickered toward the noise.

“Is that you, Pip?” he called out.

A soft gasp followed, and you stepped out from behind a pillar, eyes wide, face flushed with the unmistakable flush of someone who had been caught eavesdropping.

“I didn’t mean to.. I wasn’t trying to—” you stammered, but your words trailed off as Ominis’ head shot over in your direction.

For a moment, no one spoke. The air was heavy with the weight of your discovery. Ominis looked as though he'd been caught doing something wrong, despite the fact that all he had done was speak the truth..

“I... really hope you didn't hear that,” Ominis murmured, his voice barely audible, a mixture of shame and fear in his tone.

“Ominis,” you said softly, taking a tentative step forward . “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong.”

Ominis shook his head, quickly standing and gripping his wand tightly. "I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t want to burden you with this."

"You’re not a burden, Ominis. I don’t care about your past, or your name, or anything that you think would stand in the way of us."

Ominis froze, his breath hitching in his throat, his expression torn between disbelief and longing. "But I’m not the man you think I am. I can’t—"

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, your touch soft but firm. "You’re exactly the person I want, Ominis. I’ve always seen you. Not your name, not your blindness... you."

And in that moment, everything seemed to shift. The walls he had built around himself began to crumble, piece by piece.

“You really mean that?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, your heart swelling. “I do.”

Sebastian, watching from the sidelines, shook his head with a smile. "Well, I’m glad that’s finally settled," he muttered, before pushing off the wall. "Now, if you two don’t mind, I’d like to leave the two of you to your sappy moment."

[lizthewriter]

best believe i'm still bejeweled / theodore nott

PAIRING  theodore nott x fem!reader

SUMMARY  you accept theodore nott's proposal to fake date each other and the two of you step foot into the ridiculously complicated world of fake dating. part 2 of the get him back! series PART 1 PART 3

QUOTE  "best believe i'm still bejeweled, / when i walk in the room, / i can still make the whole place shimmer," - bejeweled by taylor swift

WORD COUNT  1.4K

WRITTEN  6.3.2024

"everyone." theodore had walked back into the room, you snuggled comfortably into his arms. he had tapped a fork against his glass, gathering the attention of his friends. mattheo's jaw dropped, the hand swung around some girl you had seen around slithering it's way back to his side. "i want to introduce you to my girlfriend."

that's right, you smug snake. i win.

some people in the room looked rather confused, most didn't seem to care. mattheo's eyes had a glint of murder and his new girlfriend was obviously displeased by the sudden lack of his arn around her waist. an umber-skinned boy you didn't recognized was watching theodore with only a curious expression, tilting his head as his eyes met yours. they were oddly piercing, as though he could read your every thought and deduce the scheme you and theodore had drunkly concocted in the kitchen of a random kid's mansion in under a minute.

mattheo stood up quickly and approached you with a furious expression. his eyes burned a hold into theodore's head as he addressed you (though nott seemed unfazed by the boy's anger). "can i speak with you? privately."

your eyes were dead as they gazed onto mattheo and as his eyes met yours, his expression fell from fury to something more shocked. you lazily dismissed him, glancing away as you responded with nothing but a simple, "no." he didn't deserve to waste a second of your time with his nonsense.

he fumed at his and pushed inbetween you and theodore, storming out of the mansion. his date gathered her things quickly and ran after him, shouting his name down towards the sounds of a booming bass.

"i thought you said you weren't dating, theodore?" daphne greengrass sat elegantly upon the loveseat, her legs crossed and a smirk painting her face something beautiful. she looked dignified. "didn't you once remark to me that no girl was good enough for you?"

you wanted to roll your eyes. yeah. that was the theodore nott you knew.

-

"if we want this to work, you're going to need to -" theodore glanced you up and down. "- change some things."

you narrowed your eyes at him, your arms crossed. "what exactly do you mean by that, nott?"

"i mean to say you need to have the sense of sophistication and upper class of princess diana. and currently you have nothing more than a sense - i apologize - a smell of alcohol about you and all the upper class of a weasley."

"so you're saying you want me to start looking and acting like a spoiled brat?" you asked sweetly, though it was snarlingly obvious your expression was distasteful and offended.

nott sighed as though he were being exhausted by a petulant child, his fingers holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "i meant no offense."

"it doesn't matter what you mean, what matters is what you do. i'm sorry i don't have the luxury of a wealthy father to worry about all of my problems. unfortunately i have to pay rent, buy clothes, food, and other necessities, as well as cover the costs of university myself. there's not enough wiggle room there for gucci sandals and a yearly vacation to bora bora."

"i'll pay for everything, all right? i shouldn't have said that the way i did." his tone was sorrowful enough that you forgave him with a sigh and a wave of your hand.

you hopped onto the kitchen counter top as nott began to wash the alcohol glassware. "so, why are we still here? the party is over, i'm sure the kid whose parents own this house would like us very much to leave."

he sent you a look. it took a moment for you to register that this was nott's father's mansion. "oh. well then . . . if we're going to make this work, we have to be more than believable, we have to be undeniably in love. that means people have to see us together, they have to look at us and think we're in love. that means spending time together, nott. are you sure you'll be able to tolerate time alone with someone so below your class?"

theodore gritted his teeth in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "yes, i'm quite certain that i will survive."

you grinned, hopping off from the counter and patting him on the back. "great. pick me up tommorow night at seven, we're getting dinner."

-

"i can't believe this, i can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"relax, blaise, it's not a big deal."

"big deal!? the girl you've had a massive crush on for the past two years is now your girlfriend and you say it's not a big deal, don't be ridiculous," blaise responds with a scoff.

"fake girlfriend - she's only doing this to get back at riddle. besides, i'm doing this to piss the twat off too," theodore responded in a rather defensive tone. blaise smirked at the faint blush that painted nott's cheeks.

"oh yeah? and that's the only reason? are you quite sure?" there was an embittered silence that made blaise laugh victoriously. he clapped theodore on the back in excitement. "come on, nott, even if you're fake dating right now, you've got to pretend, right? you have your chance, don't let it go to waste! you've got a date with her tonight, right? pull out the stops! buy her flowers, get a -"

"don't you have sports communications now, zabini?" theodore drawled, glaring at blaise with an icy expression. blaise only grinned in response - his friend would come round to listen to him.

-

theodore had thought good and long on what blaise had said to him. it was true - you both had a general education class first semester and from then on, he had been mad about you. he didn't really understand it fully himself, at least not in the beginning. he had never been interested in girls much before, but something about you in paticular struck him. perhaps your wittiness, your intelligence, the way you weren't afraid to speak your mind about issues that were important, your beauty. you weren't rich and to be honest, he didn't care - it was your personality, your beauty, that was rich. material wealth meant nothing.

well, material wealth meant a little something. it meant he had listened to blaise and bought you an extraordinarily large bouquet of red roses that would never be to expensive to him. he wore his finest suit, his hair slicked back carefully, a hint of cologne wafting off him. he stood at the door to your dorm (which took quite a bit of effort to hunt down, you hadn't even given him your number or where you lived.)

he knocked on your door and waited patiently, glancing up and down the hall. ans then the door opened, revealing a fiesty red-haired girl with a smirk on her face. but theodore wasn't looking at her, he was looking at you. the roses almost fell from his hand.

"erm - i hope i'm not late."

the shock was evident on your face. he was - well, you couldn't deny it, theodore looked astoundingly handsome. and that bouquet of flowers . . . . was it all for you?

"these are for you," theodore said, looking for more nervous than you would have expected him to. he handed you the bouquet, but the ginny snatched it from him immediately.

"i'll go put these in a jar!" she exclaimed, holding them under one arm. she shoved you out the door and towards theodore. "you two go have fun and you, bring her home before midnight or i'll have my older brothers on your arse!"

the door slammed in your faces and you were left unbearably close to theodore. you didn't know what to say - i mean, you knew you had to make it look as though you really were dating, but you didn't expect him to go to such an extreme. "you did really good with the flowers. very believably," you said in a rather constrained tone. part of you had been flattered by such a gorgeous bouquet, but the other half of you knew it was all for show. why did you feel so sad?

TAGS @rosieandthethorns @thaliasworld96 @lovelyygirl8 @moony-artemis @thesecretmansion @thecraziestcrayon @amongemeraldclouds @readingthingsonhere @darkenwolfie @jaxyy219 @empath-bunny @always-reading @xmadigurlx @mypolicemanharryyy @prettyb1tchsblog @hoeforvinniehackerrr @luckylzclerc @pandalovingcats @thyeb @annaisabookworm @starsval @niktwazny303

part 3 coming soon glizzies 😉