#[it seems to be up in the air currently whether this can work in ways other than sex reversal.]

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

Update: I currently have ZERO intentions to ever write a second part to this. I have been asked so many times since uploading this originally that I’ve lost count. But I have absolutely no ideas or inspirations for a second part at any point in the near. Or far. Future. It was always meant to be a stand alone like all my one shots are. But tysm for the love <3

[girl-lostconnection]

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy and you are starting to push it. Thin ice there.

Oh? 👀

Continuation to this

@nightunite friend, come eat. Also shout out to them for the idea of Reader not kissing John and using his beard as “seal kiss” to get information instead

John is not amused with how fast you get the ground in his team. John is even less amused with how quickly you manage to wrap all his men around your finger and never think to ask yourself whether it’s a wise move.

Almost like you don’t fucking care what he think about you or your methods, almost like you have no insecurities or cracks he can get a claw in and move around until doors to your head get off the hinges.

John doesn’t like it.

You are seemingly everywhere and all at once — you lunch with Kyle and you train with Johnny and you shower with Simon and you shoot with Kyle and you work with Johnny and you train rookies with Simon and you chat with Kyle and you groom Johnny and you kiss Simon—

You don’t seem to have place for one more person.

You don’t even seem to think about fitting in one more person, like John isn’t even the fucking captain of his TaskForce anymore. Fucking hell.

John furrows his brows at you murmuring something in Kyle’s ear which leaves him dazed and a little lovestruck, his eyes so sharp you could cut to the bone, his eyes so hungry Price would start worrying whether or not Garrick is going to eat you alive.

But seems like for now Kyle only wants to eat you out.

And judging by the looks of it, you have yet to give in — teasing his sergeant like it’s your job, sliding the tips of your fingers between his shoulder blades and offering to rub his aching back after day full of drills.

Kyle preens and shows off, Kyle smiles at you and it would have been fucking deadly if he didn’t like you this much.

Kyle doesn’t like coming in last place.

Kyle is primordial greed and primordial ambition, Kyle is used to being the best of the best of the best, Kyle is the apex predator and the youngest sergeant on the team.

And Kyle dances in circles around you for weeks now with progress taking steps so small John thinks that Kyle is gonna get his fucking kiss from you next spring.

Only because you seem to have so much fun with it.

Still, John doesn’t like the effect you have on his men and he doesn’t like that he himself can’t seem to not like you.

John doesn’t like that he’s waiting for his kiss now.

But you already kissed Johnny and Simon, it’s only fair if John gets a kiss too, right? Don’t you worry that your captain might grow displeased with you?

Don’t you want to check “the vibes”?

But if you do, you seem to do a good fucking job not giving John a single fucking clue other than occasional grin here and there. Drives him up the fucking wall, it does.

He snaps at Simon when he notices that lieutenant is outright smirking, corners of his lips so sharp it’s a fucking miracle you don’t cut yourself on it when you pull Ghost by the scruff of his neck to kiss him again.

It’s not even fucking noon, why would you be kissing Simon now?

John huffs air out, his tail swishing through the air from side to side, his molars aching to bite down on the slope of your exposed neck — to squeeze, to topple, to get you down.

To get his fucking kiss.

He feels ridiculous for wanting it so badly, he’s a grown man for fuck’s sake.

So when you finally lean in a little closer than usually, your face so focused John can’t help but grumble out “need somethin’, sergeant?”, hating the way his heart pounds.

You get closer and John can feel salt on his tongue, high waters threatening to pull him under, currents sweeping him off his feet, your breathing soft thing on his lips.

Only you don’t kiss him.

John blinks, trying to scramble his mind back, trying to force down already blooming bruise of rejection when you nose at his beard instead and hum something unintelligible.

You pull away slowly, like you are coming up after a dive, even your breathing slows down — deep and controlled, you nose away at his chin before finally sitting back.

Price doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t trust himself not to ask you what do you think is wrong with him. Is that the cigar smell? Are seals sensitive to scents? Are you sensitive to scents? What the fuck just happened?

Price doesn’t want to admit but he was looking forward to getting that kiss.

Price doesn’t want to admit but out of the corner of his eye he watches the way you kiss Johnny and Simon — the depth, the tenderness, the licking waves of your intimacy that you seem to submerge his men completely in.

Price doesn’t want to admit, but he keeps imagining himself in their place, thinking how you’d kiss him, playing endless scenarios in his head.

Would you let him get you on his desk and finally get a hold of you thighs, because god, one more leg day and John won’t be able to fucking concentrate. For the rest of his life.

Would you pull him in your lap instead? Would you melt into him like you melt into Johnny? Would you cuddle him like you cuddle Simon? Would you hold him?

But all of these are just endless fantasies, silly dreams that keep tormenting him when you smile with your teeth, when you bent down and he gets a glimpse of your unmarked throat, when you lean a little closer and he can taste salt on the tip his tongue.

On the bright side it seems like it’s not that John is damaged or anything of the sort, he tells himself. After all, you keep teasing Kyle as well — not letting hungry harpy sink his claws into you and tear out some bleeding meat out of you.

So that’s silver lining, right?

So John rubs his face until the image of you grinning under his eyelids is not as vivid and takes the whole team out for drinks after successful mission. God knows they need it.

He needs it.

You sit nestled in between Simon and Johnny, hand of the former is dripped over your shoulders, hand of the latter is squeezing your thigh.

As if you are going to run away if these two don’t hold onto you, anchoring you to the seat of the booth.

Johnny steals your chips, offering his fried fish instead. Steals more than chips, frankly, booze makes Soap needy and you ever the glutton for attention kiss him until lad’s palm starts squeezing your thigh a little too eagerly.

John pretends he doesn’t notice the way Soap’s knuckle traces the inseam of your jeans.

John pretends he doesn’t notice the way Simon’s fingers dip under the collar of your T-shirt, pads of his fingers tracing idle patterns. Simon doesn’t give a fuck how much you kiss his boy if he gets to watch.

Simon doesn’t give a fuck even harder if he gets a kiss as well while his boy watches.

Price down his whiskey and orders another one.

Silver lining starts losing its shine faster than he’d like it, because even though Kyle watches you like…well, like a harpy he is, you just blow him a kiss and then give Simon an actual one.

Ghost licks into your mouth with wet indecent sound and breaks a kiss just to murmur something in your ear. When he turns to his captain and youngest sergeant his smirk is wicked enough to make a grown weep.

Greedy bastard enjoys it way too fucking much.

But Simon excuses himself for a smoke so John pushes the glass away and follows him out. He needs to either break his lieutenant’s jaw or find out why the fuck you deemed him bottom of the barrel.

Why he’s not getting a kiss? Don’t you like your captain?

Ghost watches him like it’s the funniest shit he’s seen in literal weeks and it might as well be, because John feels like drinking some more and calling it a day.

Silver lining, he’s not alone in this boat. Silver lining, he’s not the last of the pick.

Silver lining strains, but shines through when he steps in the bathroom because Kyle is there. And you are there. And fucking Soap is there.

What is it, a bloody convention he didn’t get tickets to?

John kicks the three of you back to the booth, his mind hazy from whiskey, his throat aching with bitterness. It takes him another minute or so to realise Soap’s zipper was open. Takes him one more to remember you had hickeys on your neck.

John gets out of the bathroom, shaking water off his hands and stalks back to the booth, tail swishing, his agitation climbing up.

Silver lining chokes at the back of his throat like cotton, tastes like old oil and stuffs him bloody silent since Simon is back, listening to chatty tipsy Soap without a care in the world.

Simon doesn’t give a fuck who does what if he has his boy by his side.

Simon doesn’t give a fuck even harder when he knows where his other seal is.

Simon grins like a bastard he is, sharp points of the curl of his lips poking at the underside of John’s ribs and says that Kyle went out for a smoke.

John doesn’t ask where you went to when he knows you don’t smoke.

He just stalks out, swinging pub’s back door open and working his jaw because smoke break, his ass.

Kyle has you backed to the wall, cooing something unintelligible, nosing at your cheeks and throat, clicking his tongue at you when you giggle.

Your hands are wrapped around Kyle’s shoulders, pulling him in and closer. Sinking your fingers in the tight muscles of his wings, murmuring something in sergeant’s ear.

You are soft from beers you had, warm with buzz of the pub and tender in a way that makes John’s molars ache.

And all your focus is on Kyle, only on Kyle, ever on Kyle when say “don’t be like that”, when you say “I know, I’m sorry, that was mean. Did I upset you, baby?”, when you say “come here. can I kiss you? I really want to. Can I? Please, Kyle, I’m gonna be good, i promise”.

John’s silver lining cracks and withers away with the chapped pieces of cheap foil shining in the light of street lamps and the glow of your eyes when you pepper Kyle’s face with kisses.

Kyle is half-lidded and hazy on you, Kyle leans closer, almost pouting when you kiss him everywhere but on the lips. Very fucking funny, you see him laughing, darling?

Kyle clicks his tongue when you giggle again but his eyes are so fond it feels more of an act than genuine frustration. Like he can’t help but like you a little too much.

Kyle nuzzles in your palm and presses wet open-mouthed kisses to your wrist, softly nips the thin skin there, laves the imprint of his teeth with the wet slide of his tongue.

Molten, hungry, dangerous.

Kyle could bite down on your wrist and leave you without a hand, Kyle could bite out more than you can give and lick at the twitching muscle, tasting the feverish pump of your heart straight out the box.

But Kyle doesn’t.

Kyle coos something about you driving him fucking insane, Kyle tilts his head so you can kiss him properly and presses you into the brick wall.

His groan when you finally kiss him is the best reward there is, because yes, fucking finally, thank you, darling.

You are kissing him like Kyle is water you’ve been deprived of, you are kissing him like that’s the only thing that matters, you are kissing him and nothing else exists.

And Kyle doesn’t break the kiss, too hungry and greedy he surges forward — your teeth clicking, the wet sounds of yours are filthy enough to make John’s jeans a little uncomfortable.

You wrap yourself around Kyle and choke when he pushes a knee between your legs, drool dripping down your chin because if Kyle could he would have swallowed you whole.

Because you don’t need air, you need Gaz.

John doesn’t know for how long you kiss, but he can tell that for a moment there two of you definitely contemplated whether or not you want to fuck in a bloody alleyway behind the pub.

John doesn’t know what to say when you finally look at him so he just silently stares back, tail swishing behind him, his molar aching when you smile like nothing happened.

“Communication going well, sergeant?”, he asks for some godforsaken reason and tries not to cringe at the way his other sergeant tucks his palm in your back pocket. This generation has no bloody shame.

“I suppose so, sir”, you smile wide enough for John to see the peeking sharp points of your teeth from under your upper lip. “Seal to harpy communication, sir. I’d say we definitely found…a common ground”, you beam and John feels like ramming down the doors to your head.

Fuck looking for cracks, he wants to crack down on you and see what the fuck is in the head of yours.

Why don’t you like him? What’s wrong with him? Why don’t you kiss him?

But John doesn’t ask and just hums before returning back to the pub. His face so grim Simon does the wise thing and stuffs Soap’s mouth with another chip before he can ask anything.

On the contrary you return with Kyle’s palm still in the back pocket of your jeans and a handful new hickeys.

John orders himself another whiskey and says to himself that he is not going to look at you, that it’s just how it is, that he is not going to run after you and beg a kiss out of you.

John looks at you anyway and you send him a wink.

Glass almost splinters in his hand, whiskey slowly dribbling out on the wooden table, John’s tail swishing behind him, John’s molars aching when you smile with teeth.

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy and you just toppled the whole pyramid.

Ice is starting to crack.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

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🦍Pile 1:

If you chose Pile 1, let me tell you that someone quite intriguing is coming, like their energy is so strange (in a good way). It won't be someone you expected, nor someone who will fit easily into your current routine. In fact, this new person in your life may seem a bit… strange at first. You might be drawn to them for reasons you don't quite understand. There's something that will make you wonder "Who is this person?" almost from the first moment you see them.

Perhaps this strange person doesn't fully reveal themselves from the start. Sometimes, they can come with a vibe of mystery that will make you want to know more. It won't be one of those relationships where everything is revealed quickly. It could be someone who has a completely different way of thinking than you, someone who makes you see the world from a perspective you've never considered. At first, it can be confusing, even bewildering, but that's what makes it so exciting.

The funny thing is that even though this person may seem like an enigma, you'll feel like there's something destined in all of this. As if, somehow, you've crossed paths with them at the exact moment you needed them, although you may not know it yet. This person isn't just here to be a spectator in your life; they're here to change something. I feel like will challenge you to look at things differently, to think in ways you hadn't even imagined before. This person could be someone with boundless creativity or even a spiritual vision that, while it may not fit into your life conventionally, will open you up to new possibilities.

The interesting thing about this energy is that, even though there's some mystery and not knowing what to expect, you'll feel good about it. It's not that it's uncomfortable, but it is a challenge. It's like when you meet someone so unique that they make you question your own limits or ideas. And the truth is, although it can be a little disconcerting at times, it will bring you a lot of personal growth. 🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆🦍Extended on Patreon: How will this person change your life?

🦍Pile 2:

If you chose Pile 2, this person isn't someone who will cause a stir. I feel like their arrival will be more subtle, but they will be so warm and comforting that, when you meet them, you will realize there is something truly beautiful about their presence. This is the energy of someone who is deeply connected to you, and who has the ability to make you feel understood, supported, and accepted just as you are. They have been through their own battles, their own difficulties, and have learned to find peace amidst the chaos. In fact, their own personal journey has been one of healing, and now, they are here to share that wisdom with you. Whether it's a close friend, a mentor, or even someone who crosses your path unexpectedly, this person will bring a sense of calm, as if everything suddenly makes a little more sense.

Have you ever felt like the world is an overwhelming place and you need a break from all the noise? Well, this person is like a breath of fresh air in the middle of a storm. Their presence will be a relief. Perhaps they will help you see things from a broader perspective, showing you that despite everything you've been through, everything is okay and that things can heal.

The most fascinating thing about this person is that they don't just come to offer you pretty words or empty advice. No. They will be genuinely helpful! They will offer you more than a shoulder to lean on; they will give you tools, knowledge, and a deeper understanding of what you're going through. Maybe you'll be invited to activities that help you heal, like meditating, exercising, or even exploring creative outlets that help you unleash what's inside. The gift this person has is that they have a unique ability to help you find peace, both inside and out. Perhaps you've been carrying emotional weight, or you've been through a situation that left you feeling drained. This person will enter your life as a reminder that you are not alone. No matter what you've been through, you have the right to heal and move forward. <3 🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆🦍Extended on Patreon: How will this person change your life?

🦍Pile 3:

If you chose Pile 3, this person isn't someone who stays in their comfort zone. In fact, i feel like one of the first thing you'll notice about them is how spontaneous they are, maybe they are a sagittarius. If you thought you were comfortable in your daily routine, believe me, this person has the ability to make you step out of your bubble so naturally that you won't even realize you did. And yes, they will make you question why you've been waiting so long to take the next step in your dreams.

They won't come into your life with the intention of being a constant source of wise advice or helping you solve your problems. No. What this person brings is more of a call to action. These are the types of people who live in the present, who don't get caught up in worrying about tomorrow, but are more interested in what they can do NOW, and they will most likely pull you into their world for a bit. But the best part is that they'll do it in such a fun way that you won't feel pressured or overwhelmed. It's not just because they're fun people, but because they have such a carefree and authentic way of living that, even if their plans are unpredictable, they make you feel free. And that freedom is something you sometimes need, even if you don't even know it. Maybe you've been feeling like everything has become too serious, and this person will be the reminder that it's okay to let go, laugh a little, and let yourself be in the moment.

What's fascinating about this kind of energy is that, although they are spontaneous, it's not just about doing things without thinking. No. These people have a deep sense of curiosity about the world, about life, and the experiences it offers. They will invite you to see the world with a fresh perspective. Maybe you make an unexpected decision, like a last-minute trip, or decide to try something that seemed completely out of reach. They'll show you that experiences are just as important as accomplishments, and that it's not so much the destination that matters, but the journey. 🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆🦍Extended on Patreon: How will this person change your life?

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆🦍 Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆🦍

[seungsoftly]

asking you out while in college ― enha hyung line

୨୧ genre: drabble/fluff ୨୧ wc: 4.53k ୨୧ contains mentions of drinking, partying, and taking painkillers (a safe dosage)

livi's note ♡ i'm so stoked to be posting my first fic on this blog! i really enjoyed writing this, and i hope you guys enjoy it as well! this is only part one of this drabble, so i'll hopefully have the second part with the maknae line up soon! reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated, and i wish you guys happy reading!

divider credits to @uzmacchiato

→ lee heeseung

even though you now know that he can get really loud and bold with his words when he’s gaming, you would have never thought heeseung spoke louder than a hesitant whisper before he asked you out.

you’d always notice him passing by you when you were sitting in the quad, studying with you friends because you wouldn’t do so otherwise. he had a shy habit of keeping his head tipped towards the ground as he walked alongside some of his own friends, adding a few words to their conversations occasionally.

sometimes you wondered whether he was just that quiet or if he simply preferred to do most of his talking somewhere private where nobody except those close to him could hear what he had to say.

either way, heeseung was pretty cute. he always wore some worn pair of jeans with holes beginning to wear into them and the edges fraying almost out of control. but nothing was more out of control than his growing feelings for you.

little did you know, heeseung barely managed to keep himself walking upright every time he walked even in the same vicinity as you. you were fifteen feet away in the quad, sitting on your little picnic blanket and wearing a cute top and skirt for the weather that came at the end of spring, he was staring at his feet as he walked past, willing them to just please not jumble into each other and embarrass him in front of you

he truly longed to have the confidence to ask you out on a date. if he’d just been bold enough to do so when you two first met, heeseung honestly thought that he might have been near to proposing to you by now. only in his dreams did you wear a ring that he’d given to you while on one knee, asking if you’d be his wife.

but his friends were so ready to be done with heeseung staring off into space where you’d walked past minutes ago, not even bothering to pretend just a little bit that he was paying attention to what they were saying. they nagged him for months about whether or not he’d gotten the girl yet, groaning when he denied. in their minds, it was time that he stepped up and was a man about it.

so they did their best to throw heeseung straight into just doing what he’d been avoiding. he was given a shot glass full of liquor and told to take it, suspicious of what they could possibly want him to be doing afterwards but still following through with drinking the whole thing down with only a minor facial expression.

“cmon man,” jay said to heeseung as he and a few of the other guys guided him along the sidewalk. heeseung didn’t realize until the whole group had stopped in front of a very familiar courtyard that the boys had brought him right to you.

“now go get her,” jake said to him with that charming smile of his. the rest of his friends offered some silent cheers and the alcohol seemed to have worked with the purpose that they’d wanted it to.

heeseung took several confident steps, his brain fogging up a little bit, but it only kept the doubt from the front of his mind. he could do this. he’d dreamed of saying these words to you. now all he had to do was speak them.

you weren’t expecting him to walk up to you with the air of confidence that was currently floating around him, but you honestly loved it. you’d never seen heeseung like this, and it was really a good change for him. he matched the shy, clumsy person that he’d been around you previously, but this was a much better fit for him.

“hey y/n! how are you on this gorgeous day?” heeseung asked with a very forward look on his face. bless his heart. you could see right through him, but you were still going to play along if he’d done all of this just for you.

you responded with a bright smile and a giggle, “i’m wonderful! might i ask what sparked you to come talk to me now of all times?”

to make it even better (and heeseung even cuter), a slight blush bloomed across his cheeks as his face twitched back to that shy boy before returning right back to his now confident attitude. “well i think you might have caught me then. i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time, but will you go out with me?”

your smile grew even wider despite expecting something along the lines of this. “hmm, i think i will.”

an almost identical smile appeared on heeseung’s face, his shoulders drooping as if he’d just stopped holding his breath about something. “that’s great!” he exclaimed, not processing that he’d just said that for a few seconds until he clapped his hands over his mouth with a shocked look on his face. “i didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he mumbled, embarrassed yet again in front of you.

grabbing onto his arm, you giggled once again and reassured him, “oh please, it’s fine heeseung. i know you’ve been working yourself up to this for a while.”

the man flushed again. “wait, how did you know that?”

“well, i always see you avoiding eye contact when you think i’m looking and then you stare when i’m not, plus i’ve never seen you so awkward around anyone but me. it also doesn’t help that all of your friends are over there peeking over the wall trying to see if you succeeded or not.”

→ park jongseong

the first thing you noticed about jay was that everything about him screamed wealth. his clothes, his car, even the way he carried himself day by day. he didn’t flaunt it like some other people that attended the same college as you both. rather, it was almost like his money flaunted him.

for the first few months, it was all just hearing about him and being both skeptical and stunned at the fact that someone with his reputation was even on the same campus as you. the girls would always gush about how handsome he was, but how aloof at the same time. according to their hushed whispers, he’d never spoken to a single one of them before and that was exactly the allure of him.

if any one of them would ever manage to get him to speak even a word to them, it would become the talk of the century, almost a present time myth. you just scoffed whenever it was brought up among your own friend group, not quite understanding why they were still obsessing over a man that clearly didn’t want anyone within your college.

the first time you truly saw him up close and in person was about three months into your sophomore year. jay was a junior, but was on a slightly different class track as he was a business major and you were an english major. it was midterm season, and you two had one class together so he first caught your eye when he entered the exam room to take his midterm for the class.

for a second you could’ve sworn that he looked right at you, cold eyes warming a touch in your gaze. but the moment was over quicker than it started and you two, along with the rest of your class, were then starting the exam. the only reason that you two hadn’t seen each other up close yet was because all of the seminars for this particular class were online and nobody had to come in person until midterms.

jay was well aware of his influence among his peers, along with the reputation that they’d come up with for him. it wasn’t that it was bad. in fact it was actually really good, which made it a lot to live up to. to them, he was perfect and cold and handsome, denying every girl and only really talking with his small friend group.

sometimes it got exhausting keeping up that image that everyone had of him, but he’d gladly do it just to be the best in your eyes. you were the one person that wasn’t constantly trying to chase him or get him to talk to you, and it had resonated within him a lot harder than he’d originally thought.

jay would love to just be able to walk up to you and ask you out, but as life was always difficult, things were not going to be that simple for him. you two would be instantly surrounded by a mob of jealous and crazed girls, and that wasn’t how he wanted you to remember the first time he asked you on a date.

instead, jay was going to try his best to make this as private as he could, for both his sake and your sake. but don’t get him wrong, this wasn’t to undermine the feelings he had for you. this was to avoid all of the things that you clearly didn’t want to get involved in since you were never a part of the crowd that loved to follow him around campus.

his first step to this was a little unconventional. he cashed in a favor that heeseung owed him, being his friend of course he agreed. it was a fairly simple task anyways so he really didn’t question it. jay was glad. the thing was, heeseung actually shared an in person class with you, which made him a good messenger.

so, one sunny morning when you’d just taken your seat in that class, you were surprised when heeseung deliberately walked by your desk because his seat was on the other side of the room. it didn’t require him to come this way to get to it. there was even more shock resonating through you when he pulled a single red rose out of his jacket and set it gently in front of you.

originally, heeseung was planning on winking and whispering something to you about it, but he’d decided against it knowing jay’s tendency to use his anger before his actual thoughts. at least there was a note attached to it signed with a “j” that prevented you from getting the wrong ideas. he didn’t want the girl that jay wanted thinking that he had feelings for her when it was actually his friend that did.

you had a few minutes before class started to fully process what happened, but you were still a bit confused until you noticed the crisply folded note attached to the beautiful flower.

unfolding it, you read, “i have my eye on you. would you maybe tell me yes? - j”

so it wasn’t heeseung that held feelings for you. it was someone whose name started with the letter j. there was really only one name that stuck out to you, and that was jay himself. but there was no way he would have sent you this, right? the red rose did scream his level of luxury, but why would he give it to you?

he could have picked anyone at this college, but he chose to send a flower to you. it seemed odd, but you didn’t think too much more into it until the second delivery was made.

you didn’t even hear about the flowers first. not before hearing your roommate literally talk up a storm about how the jay park had spoken to her. about what? quite literally one sentence that was only five words long. “your roommate is y/n y/l/n?”

he’d asked a question about you, and your roommate was still freaking out about him speaking to her. that clearly established her priorities in your friendship. and what clearly outlined them even more was her obvious jealousy about the full bouquet of red roses that were delivered to your door with instructions to give them to you.

she was so upset that she didn’t speak to you for hours, leaving the dorm and not returning until late that night. clearly it was over the fact that her so-called idol only talked to her to try and get with her roommate.

you weren’t sure whether or not you felt touched or something else. jay was obviously putting in the effort to get with you, but on a personal level and not just walking over to you and getting the both of you mobbed. it was an aspect of consideration that really hit deep within you. you weren’t going to deny that he wasn’t handsome and attractive, and this kindness that he’d shown you while pursuing you really made you want to say yes.

finally, you opened the little note that had come with the flowers and a small smile blossomed on your lips.

“if your answer really is yes, let’s talk pretty girl. xxx-xxx-xxxx - jay”

and yes it most indeed was.

→ sim jaeyun

the very first impression of jake that you had was that he was a literal human embodiment of a golden retriever. you’d never seen a man excited like he was over the most unimportant, trivial things.

your friend group and his friend group were fairly close, not to the point that you all were going to be combined, but you’d rather meet up with each other at a party than any other groups. all of jake’s friends were honestly really nice, but nobody tried to latch onto you and become friendly with you like he did.

when you’d asked him why it was your arm he was clinging onto so desperately, jake’s response told you a few things but still left you confused.

his eyes were slightly glazed over from the night of drinking that had been underway for some time as he excitedly mumbled, “it’s just you! you’re so pretty and awesome and usually everyone would have just rolled their eyes and ditched me by now.”

you couldn’t help but feel bad for the slightly intoxicated man, letting him hold onto your arm for the rest of the night until your friends started to head home and you needed to go with them seeing that they’d been your ride to the party and would be your ride home as well. thankfully one of your friends had agreed to be the designated driver for your group so that you all didn’t have to coordinate calling ubers and all.

it was nice to finally get out of the crowded frat house, still booming with music and people even at two in the morning, the short drive back to your dorm serene, but the exhaustion had begun creeping in at that point. by the time you stumbled into your dorm, your eyes were barely open and you felt ready to just faceplant on your little twin sized bed and just pass out.

but the little voice inside your head told you that you wouldn’t wake up very happy in the morning if you didn’t go wash the makeup and sweat off your face and take this uncomfortable dress off.

those few more exhausting minutes dragged along, but you were right that washing your face and putting on some comfortable sleeping clothes would make your morning a lot better. you let out a tired sigh once you were finally ready to sleep, the fluffy cream colored duvet on your bed looking all the more inviting.

somehow you also remembered to plug your phone in just before your head hit the pillow, but you just managed to miss the notification that your screen lit up with the moment your eyes were closed and you were fast asleep.

jake: gnihgt pretty grl <<3

…

your head was pounding when you finally opened your eyes, although it really wasn’t as bad of a headache as you’d had one morning freshman year when you’d yet to have gotten used to the party culture and truly when you needed to stop. you remember not even being sure that you’d survive the day your head hurt so bad. this was nothing some ibuprofen and water couldn’t fix.

digging under your bed, you managed to grab the little bin that laid there that contained all of your medicine that you had in your room. the lid snapped open easily and you set it next to you on your bed so you could rub your eyes open quickly before shuffling through the cold medicine and other things until you located your precious bottle of ibuprofen.

you twisted the cap off it and shook out two pills, just going ahead and taking them dry because you just didn’t feel like reaching for your water. it was just like that some mornings. you’d gulp down half of the water left in your water bottle on the little table beside your bed in a moment when you were absolutely parched.

but as you reached for said water bottle and did in fact gulp down most of it, you noticed several notifications on your phone, the screen having turned on while you hydrated yourself from last night’s drinking bout.

a couple of them were texts from your friends saying that they were glad you’d gotten home and that they’d made it back to their rooms as well, but one text stood out to you. an obviously drunkenly typed one from jake.

your heart warmed as you clicked on the message and read it a couple of times, sending a heart emoji back. it was so sweet of him to text you last night. jake was honestly just such a cute human being in general, and you were so glad that your friend groups were getting closer.

however, as time went on and your friends hung out together more and more, jake was pretty sure he was having a never-ending crisis. god he was so whipped it was embarrassing. but at the same time it was you so he really shouldn’t be thinking like that about having feelings if it was for you.

you weren’t ignoring him. you weren’t being mean to him, in fact it was quite the opposite. you chatted with him rather often when you two saw each other, but you never questioned the drunk texts that he had a habit of sending late at night and that you responded with little hearts to in the morning.

it was killing him on the inside, not being able to truly explain how he was feeling and the deeper meaning behind the texts that you just thought were cute golden retriever friend jake sending you randomly.

the anticipation of potentially trying to ask you out phased in and out as the weeks went by for jake. there were days where he’d just be dreading the thought of maybe having to walk even in the same general area as you, and there’d be some days where he’d be about three seconds away from confessing everything to you while you both were in front of all of your friends.

jake needed to just do it. he had the feelings, he just needed to find the time and the words. and of course in typical college boy fashion, he did so at the most embarrassing, inopportune time. while drunk at a party over a text message.

jake: y/nie u wnat to go on a date wih me? i lub u so muchh but i just can’tt tell u yet :(

he didn’t even remember sending you that text until you responded the next afternoon. 

y/n: aww ur so cute jakey <3. i’d love to! hopefully sober u feels the same haha.

jake’s head was pounding, but he could still process the shock he felt at your answer, and the sort of humiliation at the fact that it had come to this.

this still deserved a fist pump in celebration though. he’d done it! he’d finally asked you out, and you didn’t say no! nothing could wipe this smile off his face now.

→ park sunghoon

sunghoon never appeared to be someone that preferred words over actions. in fact, it was shocking to you when you first heard him speak, not thinking he was going to do so around you at all.

this was true; sunghoon just preferred to not engage in conversation with people he didn’t know very well or when he was out and about around campus surrounded by random people. his friends were used to it, letting him nod along and maybe add in a few quiet words to their chats as they walked to classes or to the library or even to a cafe for breakfast. 

it was a whole lot easier for him to focus on his schoolwork and his skating when he didn’t get sidetracked talking to random people. he had grades to maintain in order for him to keep his athletic scholarship, and making sure he was entirely locked in on said athletics was important because he took pride in his performances.

sunghoon was known as the ice prince of the college’s figure skating team for a reason, and he didn’t want to let anyone down. his family always told him that he did amazing and that he needed to stop being his biggest critic. but he’d just spent so much of his life doing this that he didn’t know what else to do than practice, find the mistakes that needed to be corrected, and perfect things until they couldn’t become any better.

“hoon,” jake said to him in that tone that meant he was both teasing and concerned, leaning towards the latter. “you’ve got to stop being so ocd about things and just accept that everything isn’t going to be perfect.

the man in question did, in fact, know that not everything was perfect, but he wanted to try and get the things he had an influence on as close as possible.

this mindset remained within sunghoon’s brain for years. he’d been like this since the beginning of freshman year, and now it was nearing winter of his junior year. he truly wasn’t expecting anything about it to change, at least not until you entered his life.

you with your chaotically thrown together bag and your coffee-stained jeans entered his life and somehow managed to throw his mind out of the carefully woven way that he’d made sure it was. instead of thinking about what still needed work in his program, sunghoon started thinking about when he’d see you next.

he would have thought that his coach would be mad when he said something about sunghoon being a little bit less obsessive about the little things during practice, but all the man had to tell him was that he was glad that sunghoon had relaxed a little bit.

soon enough, his friends began to take note of the same thing. sunghoon seemed a little less uptight and smiled more, especially when the boys hung around your friend group. they were confused as to what it might be that was causing their very serious friend to lighten up a bit, at least until they caught sunghoon staring at you a little too long and a few times too many during one of your combined hang outs.

once that was finished and they met in jay, jake, and sunghoon’s apartment, his friends were all over him.

“so that’s what’s gotten you all flustered!” jake exclaimed amidst the clear exchange of money between jungwon and niki.

sunghoon rolled his eyes at that, “you guys bet on this?!”

“of course we did man!” the youngest replied back. “i made bank on this because someone said that you were just getting burnt out.” the gaze back at jungwon made it obvious that he hadn’t been expecting sunghoon to be thinking of a girl out of all things.

“guys,” heeseung cut in, ever the wisest as the oldest among them, “how about we stop teasing and see how we can get hoon back into his groove while figuring out these feelings that he’s caught for y/n.”

a couple nods and murmurs followed, sunghoon’s friends knowing when to stop and when they needed to be good friends that helped the quiet boy understand and admit his feelings.

the six other boys let sunghoon come to them with talks of his feelings for you, and over time began to devise a plan when they could tell that he was at the point where he was really down bad for you but just didn’t have the courage or experience to make them known to you.

meanwhile, you’d grown a little crush on the cold ice prince. your friends did know that you were catching feelings for someone, but not who. nevertheless, they still encouraged you to make words out of those feelings and finally tell the lucky man that you wanted to date him.

however, you truly believed that it wouldn’t be that simple. he wasn’t going to talk to you. he barely even talked to his friends from what you could see.

at least, you had those beliefs until the day that jake sim handed you something and asked you to go take it to the rink since he was about to be late for his class. like any good friend, you said yes, slowly but surely making your way there.

but when you opened the door and stepped into the rink, the ice in full view, you were stunned.

there was sunghoon, gliding along, body dancing in elegant lines and jumping with graceful power. it was marvelous. you’d never seen him skate before, just heard the things people had said about him.

even though there had been nothing but good said about sunghoon’s skating skills, you firmly believed that they’d still undermined the way that he moved across the ice.

soon enough, sunghoon came to a stop at the edge of the arena, noticing you and the fact that you had something that jake had promised to get to him in your arms.

you stepped down to the entrance of the rink, meeting him at the little door that swung open.

“uhm jake gave me this to get to you. he was going to be late for class and i was free so..”

“oh, thank you,” he chuckled. “although i don’t think that was why he asked you to come here.”

you were confused. “wait what?”

“yeah. my friends know me well and have said i just need a little push to just say one sentence.”

again, this still wasn’t making much sense to you, and you had a feeling that sunghoon could tell based on the look you had on your face.

“so what does this have to do with me again?”

he let out another one of those attractive chuckles, bringing you to realize that you were actually having a conversation with the park sunghoon. crazy, but really weird.

“it involves you because they want me to step up and ask you out. so how about we have dinner together one night?”

stunned, you stuttered out a yes. this might actually be one of the best moments of college you’d experienced so far.

© seungsoftly 2025 please do not copy, repost, or translate

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

[riddlesrizzler]

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

summary: He taught you how to land a punch, but you knocked him out with something far more lethal. characters: boxer! mattheo. reader warnings: mentions of fighting. punching. mentions of blood. mentions of pepper spray. mentions of true crime. mentions of self defense. word count: 1.4k

You thought it was a good idea at the time. Moving to a new city where the world was at your finger tips. A city that pulsed with life, a mosaic of neon lights reflecting off rain- slicked streets. A place where laughter and music spilled from open doorways on the cool nights. Sidewalks buzzed with young dreamers, people who like you, had traveled for the very same thing.

People who had dreams and ambitions just like you, clutching onto their coffee cups and sketchbooks, their voices a melody of excitement as their eyes twinkled just like the lights that seemed to never turn off. Rooftop bars shimmered above, where fairy lights tangled in ivy, and groups of found friends clinked their glasses beneath the skyline's glow.

But the magic of the city faded quickly when the lights started to dim and the weird people of the night started to crawl. People that left you feeling uneasy every time you took the city bus. People that made you constantly look over you shoulder as you wrapped your arms around your stomach in protection. People that made you feel like your pink can of pepper spray wasn't enough.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, blaming all of the true crime shows that you used to watch at night. Either way, you felt like you needed to up your protection, which caused you to start taking self dense classes.

Which is what led you to your current position.

The gym smelled of sweat and leather, the air thick with the rhythmic echoes of fists meeting heavy bags that were dangling from the ceiling. Overhead lights flickered slightly, casting sharp golden reflections on the sweat covered floor that had stains of blood from previous battles that had been lost.

You stood in the center of the ring, fists clenches inside the worn leather gloves that you had. Your chest rising and falling with measured breathes, stray strands of hair clung to your damp forehead, but you didn't bother to push them away. No, your focus was locked onto the man across from you.

Mattheo Riddle, the city's most feared and revered boxer. Circling around you like a shadow, one that made the hairs on the back of your neck start to stand up. His movements were effortless, calculated- a panther prowling, waiting to strike his prey.

"Keep your hands up," his voice a command, a deep and steady current beneath the gym's chaotic energy.

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your focus on throwing a punch, rather than looking at the biceps that were practically begging to be let out his tight black shirt. Shaking the tension from your shoulders before throwing another punch. It wasn't perfect, but it was stronger than your last one. His gloved hand deflected it with ease, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression- approval, prehaps, but it was buried deep under his hard layers of indifference.

"Again."

You reset your stance, inhaled sharply from frustration and irritation. You had been going at it for hours and yet it didn't feel like you were improving much. It also didn't help that Mattheo was providing hardly any insight to your training. Whether if he was pleased or not, it was hard to tell. It was growing exhausting, but yet you struck again- this time faster, sharper. The impact jolted your arm, a thrill of power surging through your veins.

A smirk ghosted across Mattheo's lips, "Better."

You watch as Mattheo began to move closer to you, lowering his gloved hands to his side as he watched you trying to catch your breath as sweat trickled down your body and in between your cleavage that was exposed from your sports bra.

"Your strength could use some work," he said as he cocked his head to the side. That only seemed to make your more frustrated, what else could you do? Of course you weren't going to be as strong as you were from the beginning of the session. You huff as you start to take off your gloves.

"Maybe I need a break," you say breathlessly but he didn't miss the annoyance in your tone as he watched you take off the gloves and drop them to the floor with a thud.

"If you want to give up princess, then just say so," he says with that signature cocky smirk that sent heat straight to your stomach but his words, mixed with the aching feeling of your muscles, only made you see red.

"I haven't given up," you snap at him fiercely. Given up? You had put your body through what felt like hell in order to keep up with his demands, demands that were carving strength into your bones, shaping you into something unbreakable.

"Then stop whining and prove it," Mattheo's gaze darkens at your snap. His eyebrows raising up at the angry tone that was laced in your voice. Watching as you clenched your jaw, just like you clenched your fists. He moves to step in front of you, a challenging look on his sharp features.

"Then hit me with your best shot."

The fluorescent lights above hummed, illuminating the bruises on your knuckles, the sheen of sweat on your skin. As you met Mattheo's gaze, you didn't see just a fighter in front of you, someone who won every fight that he was ever put in, you saw a challenge. One you were ready to bring down.

You knew that you couldn't rattle him with your punches, he had trained you after all, so he was aware of every move that you were going to make. He was expecting you to hesitate. To falter. To overthink. But you had learned something about the great Mattheo Riddle during your sessions- he never lost control.

Except for now.

You moved fast, closing the distance between you two. He braced himself for impact, something that would leave him feeling pain, but it never came. You dropped your fists instead, rising on your toes as you fingers gripped onto the tight black shirt he was wearing as you pressed your lips against his.

For the first time since you had met him, Mattheo froze.

His entire body started to tense, like he was struck in such a way that he didn't prepare for, could have never anticipated. His breath hitched, and for a moment, the world that surrounded the ring that they were in, started to fade. The sound of fists hitting bags, the scent of sweat and adrenaline, the flickering of the lights, all vanished at once.

You pulled away almost as quickly as you had moved towards him.

"I win," you murmured against his lips, before your own curled into a smirk as you stepped back.

Mattheo blinked, his expression darkening to something unreadable as it flickered over his brown eyes. Then, slowly, he dragged his tongue over his lower lip, almost as if he was trying to savor the sweet taste of your soft lips. An aftermath of a fight he wanted to remember.

"You fight dirty," he muttered, his voice low and rough.

You shrugged, a look of amusement and satisfaction washing over your own face as you bit your lip. "So does this mean that I've beat the unbeatable Mattheo Riddle? One to zero?"

For a moment, he just started at you, jaw tight, fists flexing at his sides. Then, just as slowly as before, a dangerous smirk stretched across his lips.

"Next round," he said, voice dripping with something that wasn't just a challenge- no, this was a promise.

"Let's see if you can handle what you started."

[pearlesscentt]

kitchen floor picnic

it was finals week, or hell week as you’d affectionately call it, and due to the onslaught of deadlines, everything was in shambles. good thing, you have your boyfriend to weather that cyclone with you.

mingyu x reader, college!au, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k words

in contrast to science, sound traveled faster than light—literally at that very moment.

when MINGYU opened the door to your studio apartment, it was pitch black, and all he could hear were your soft snores and the whirring of the dinky air conditioner. he started walking in blindly, worried about waking you up if he dared to turn on the lights, so he just clutched the paper bag full of groceries and hoped for the best.

his luck seemed to run out within a few seconds, as it wasn't long before he tripped over something hard, making him yelp in pain.

“shit,” he cursed under his breath. when the noise registered, his head immediately snapped in your direction, and he sighed in relief when you remained fast asleep. he kneeled down to clutch the toe he had stubbed and reached for his phone. he fumbled with it before eventually clicking on the torch, realizing he tripped over your bicycle helmet lying haphazardly in the hallway.

she must've tossed it on the floor from exhaustion, he thought, picking it up to hang it on one of the hooks on the wall.

it was finals week, or hell week as you’d affectionately call it. “i might not survive,” you told him at the beginning of the week during an afternoon at the library. “in our next life, remind me never to study architecture. this is torture, i will never put myself through this again,” you groaned dramatically.

he reassured you of everything you were capable of because he knew by now that the theatrics were just a part of your process for acing your classes. if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were an exceptional student. that was why he could only chuckle as you spent the next fifteen minutes complaining about your program while also perfectly tracing the pencil marks with ease on the plan you were working on.

which brings MINGYU to his current predicament: he was standing in the middle of your apartment, unsure of what to do next. he turned on the downlights from the kitchen. it was still dark enough to not disturb your sleep, while being bright enough for him to see the current state of your place.

it was a mess—even the word felt like an understatement. it was a category 5 tropical cyclone. there were different drawing and drafting materials scattered everywhere, papers of different sizes covering every flat surface he could see, an unfinished scale model perched on top of your desk, a pile of clothes on your unmade bed (indistinguishable whether clean or dirty), and a bunch of empty energy drink cans and instant ramen cups. lastly, there you were on your loveseat sofa, sleeping soundly in a fetal position because of the drawing tube and t-square at the far end of it.

beep, beep, beep.

he flinched at the sound, his gaze shifting to the phone on the coffee table as it lit up due to the alarm. power nap alarm, he knew immediately. you moved in your sleep, reaching to turn it off.

after a few moments, you sat up, stretching your arms out. MINGYU watched, he couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked with your messy hair. soon enough, your eyes darted in his direction.

“hi,” he whispered with a little wave.

you furrowed your brows and blinked at him. it felt like an eternity before you spoke up, “shit, i’m hallucinating.”

“uh, i’m really here, babe.”

“gyu?”

“mhm.”

“gyu!” your face lit up in recognition. standing up to make your way to him, you were quick but careful not to step on any of the clutter on the floor. “you’re really here.”

he opened his arms for you and gave you a warm hug. he rested his cheek on the top of your head as you melted into the embrace.

“why are you here?” you asked against his chest.

“for an intervention,” he joked before kissing your forehead. “i’m here to make you real food.”

judging by the state of your place, you had been living off instant ramen, any caffeinated drink you could find, and whatever was on sale in the nearby convenience store. your stomach growled for some real food.

“go do your thing while i cook,” he said with a laugh.

nodding, you settled on the floor by the coffee table and grabbed a technical pen nearby. you drew some finishing touches on the plan, continuing where you left off earlier before your nap.

it took about 30 minutes, using the shuffling sounds from the kitchen as your white noise while you were laser-focused on your task at hand.

“babe, time for dinner,” he called out softly.

when you looked over, he was holding two plates of what looked like katsu curry and rice with a proud smile on his face. suddenly, you wondered: where are we gonna eat?

noticing the change in your expression, he said, “hey, it’s fine, we could just eat here.”

“eat where?” you asked, walking over to him. even the small island in the kitchen was full of papers, you didn't even know which ones were important anymore; while the counter space between the single burner stove and the sink was not enough for both of you to eat comfortably.

“here.”

you raised your eyebrows at him while he placed both plates on the counter. then, he went toward the round dining table and retrieved two placemats from underneath a different set of papers.

“let’s eat here,” he said, placing the placemats on the floor, “like a picnic.”

frozen in place, you stood in front of him, still confused.

“don’t worry, i mopped earlier while i was waiting for this to simmer.” he took the plates again and motioned for you to sit. “we have picnics on the grass at the park and on the sand at the beach all the time, what difference does your kitchen floor make?”

with nothing to counter his argument, you obliged. you sat down cross-legged and used the counter behind you as a backrest. MINGYU followed suit, placing your respective plates on the placemats in front of you.

“are you sure you have time for this?”

“for sharing a meal with you? always.” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder to place a kiss on your temple. “besides, i've already finished all my exams earlier.”

you raised your eyebrows, thinking about the days; it was just last week when you shared schedules with each other to stay informed in case the workload made it hard to give updates.

“i’m sorry, i forgot your schedule,” you sighed in defeat. your eyes misty as you turned to face him, a pang of guilt starting to consume you. “you had mine memorized, but i couldn’t even recall yours.”

“hey, it's okay, i understand.”

“but still…”

“but still—nothing.” he shook his head to assure you, “we’re not here to keep score, baby. we're here to take care of each other. now, let’s eat, hm?”

as you took the first bite, warmth radiated through your body. sure, the food was good, but it was MINGYU’s steadfast presence that calmed your storms. the onslaught of deadlines and exams was eased by his unwavering love and care.

in the dim light of the kitchen, amidst the scattered papers and unfinished projects, you felt a profound sense of peace. not because he made the cyclone disappear, but because he was there to weather it with you.

author's note: just a little something bc i'm so soft for mingyu's acts of service and bc i missed writing here :(

svt masterlist | navigation ── reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated !

© 2024 PEARLESSCENTT. please do not steal my works.

[historiawon]

WHILE THE IRON IS HOT

You, Rafayel's bodyguard, ask if you can commission him to sketch your next tattoo.

Based on this post. Can also be found on AO3 :)

Tags: gender neutral reader, getting closer (professionally as well as casually), reader is NOT an artist, rafayel is NOT a numbers guy, bickering, close proximity, lots of eye contact

Kindly read under the cut!

They say, ‘Strike when the iron is hot.’

The mantra repeats excessively in your mind as you watch over Rafayel, the person who employed you as his bodyguard. Because the current chances of Wanderers attacking the Mo Art Studio is low (never zero), you give your mind permission to wander. A little. Just a little.

Your mind wanders as far as a few weeks ago: the request at the tip of your tongue. That will later be inked to your skin.

As they say, ‘Strike while the iron is hot.’ You’re standing a few feet away from a brilliant artist. This is your chance.

You cough. “Excuse me.”  

“I have a name,” Rafayel says, as he brushes past you to rummage through his box of tools. He takes out a scraper.

“Right. Rafayel?”  

“What’s up?” He returns to his stool.

“I have a question, and please indulge me: what do you think about doing commissions?”

“Commissions?” Rafayel repeats, as he scrapes the dried pigment off the canvas. “Like, other people paying me to paint for them?”

“Yes.” 

Rafayel raises an eyebrow at you for a split-second before returning his attention back on the painting. He calculates a precise location before scraping again. “In your dreams. I don’t paint for anyone. I don’t even speed up my painting process for Thomas, even if he asked.”

“Even if it will earn you extra income?”

“And extra work! I already work hard enough to finish original pieces as they are.”

You nod and remember the instances of him submitting a painting late. “True. I suppose that your original works already earn enough to support you. . . and Thomas, ‘cause you pay him,” and me, as your bodyguard, you add as an afterthought. Wait, does he even pay me?

(You make a mental note to clarify that later; you have a more pressing concern right now.)

Slowly, Rafayel puts down his scraper and turns towards you. “You want me to paint something for you, is that it?”

“Hm.” You try to be vague. “No, I was just curious.”

“No, you’re not ‘just curious.’ There’s a follow-up question to it; I know.”

Silence hangs in the air as the two of you exchange a prolonged and loaded eye contact. Your breath hitches at the full attention. His pupils glance at your throat before looking back at your eyes.

Y/N, I know, his gaze seems to say.

Your steady look asks: You know?

With a nod, Rafayel’s expectant gaze answers, Try me.

We’re going off topic, Rafayel.  

“Ha! You blinked first!” He exclaims in victory then raises a hand as if to stop you from opening your mouth. “Yes, Y/N, I know a staring contest wasn’t what we were doing. But I know you have a follow-up question.”

“I do, but I was planning to take this slow. I know we have…” you gesture to the space between the two of you, “professional boundaries. I’m not in the position to ask for commission requests yet. It’s not even open.”

“So considerate,” Rafayel teases, but his gaze on you softens. “That’s cute.”

“Still, right?”

His ears flush pink, like he can’t believe what just happened. In a snap, he changes back to his usual self and touches his ear. “Just shoot your shot. Time will pass whether you ask me now or later.”

“My follow-up question was about if I can avail your services for an art commission. You can just draw; no colors. I’ll pay. What’s your price?”

“Assuring me straight up that you’ll pay? I like that in a customer!”

“We’re going off topic, Rafayel.”  

“Hey! What’s with the accusatory tone?” He says as he rubs his ears. The pink turns to red. “You’re no different. You went on a roundabout way just to ask me for a piece! You can just say,” he straightens his posture—highly reminiscent of your current posture that was earned from your job as a hunter—and imitates your tone, “‘Hey, Raf, can you make this for me? I’ll pay!’ Simple. Done.”

You break character and scoff. He chuckles at your reaction.

“Yes, but that was more of an opening rather than ‘off-topic.’ I’d rather know if you accept commissions or not before I ask you.”

“Why?”

“It’s polite.”

You bite back a grin when he makes a face. He apparently notices the way you hold back a smile—he glances at your mouth once and his ears turn red. Again. Redder than that dried pigment he’s been scraping off. “Whatever. I can be polite.”

“I’m not saying you aren’t.”

“It was implied,” he whined.

You adjust your expression back to a more neutral and respectful one to stay on track of the topic.

“So, how much will a sketch cost?”

“Hmm,” he looks at the ceiling and puts a finger under his jaw, which stains his skin with color. He seems too used to it to bother reacting. “Given that I’ve earned my spot in the industry, it would be, I don’t know. . . a lot?”

“Right. Do you have an exact amount?”

“Oh, cutie, I gotta be honest with you…” Eyes on the canvas, Rafayel scrunches his face with some hard-to-decipher smile. He picks up his scraper and scrapes off a small piece of dried pigment in the corner of the piece. A huge chunk of dried powder falls out. Yikes. “I don’t really know much about the numbers aspect. Will you bother Thomas with a hypothetical question? Don’t tell him I’m considering to give you a commission! I don’t wanna deal with his lectures.”

You make a mental note.

“Sure. I will do that. Do you want me to pay you directly? Since I imagine the price will be a lot, I can pay you in installments, if you accept.”

“Wow,” he drawls, tone impressed, “You thought this through.”

“Mm. I’m serious about this.”

Rafayel’s adam’s apple moves as he fixes his gaze at the canvas with intensity. “I’ll decide depending on the drawing. What do you want me to sketch?”

You imagine your budget, yet again. “Depends on the price.”

“Y/N,” he drawls. “We’re going in circles! Off-topic!”

��I was hoping you would sketch a tattoo for me.”

At that, Rafayel whips his head towards you so fast. The crack of his neck is loud enough for you to feel bad.

“What?” He asks, voice hoarse.

“Is your neck OK—”

“For—forget my neck. Off-topic,” he repeats, with his eyes almost teary on you. “Repeat what you said.”

“A tattoo. Just a small one. Under my ear.” At his stunned silence, you continue, “Well, it’s not every day that I can talk to a talented artist. I’m taking my chances and I’ll pay you, I promise. If I’m unable to pay it in full, then you can take money off my sala—”

“You—you want me to draw a tattoo?”

“Yes. For me.”

“I’ll draw it? Are you sure?” he almost chokes on his words.

“Yes, it would be an honor.”

“’An honor’—oh my god. No, it would be an honor to me. Not to you, to me.” Rafayel fans himself with his collar. “Wha—what—what kind of tattoo?”

“I was thinking of a sunset.” You feel a little unprepared at Rafayel’s reaction. His eyes are wide and mouth agape. No amount of spotlight could top the nerve-wracking feeling of someone’s full attention on you. “Like… I don’t know how that would look good, but… preferably, uh, you know those sketches that are made in a continuous line? Like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” you repeat. “Does that look good? Any professional, artistic opinion?”

“Whatever you want,” his voice cracks again. You wince. “It’s a tattoo, silly. It’s supposed to be personal.”

“The mere subject is personal. I don’t mind much about the artistic style it takes to get inked on me, as long as it fits the way I look.”

“On your neck, huh…” he mutters. “I’ll help. Let’s make it perfect.”

A pause. Rafayel stands up from his stool and tears off a piece of paper from a sketchbook. “Uh, you might want to sketch what was in your mind. Then I will modify it, if you’re unsatisfied with what you made.”

“I just said I don’t mind ab—”

“A tattoo is personal. You should draw and I’ll check.”

You wave your hands away from the paper. “Ah, no! I already tried. I’m bad at drawing. That is why I need your help.”

Rafayel avoids your gaze and leaves the paper on the stool. “OK, um, I’ll be back. Let me wash my hands first—”

“You don’t have to do it now—” you say, but the man is already brushing past you to wash his pigment-stained hands (and face). He belatedly locks the bathroom door behind him, and you can hear muffled screams from where you are standing.

What’s up with him? You wonder. Is this what happens when you strike a hot iron? You didn’t think you would go this far.

_

Rafayel returns as if you didn’t hear his muffled screaming. “Who’s gonna do your tattoo?”

“I found a tattoo shop at Linkon city. They said we’re allowed to bring designs of our own.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and crosses his arms. “And you think they can imitate my genius?”

“I hope they can,” you indulge him a compliment. His ears flush pink—you can see it with the short distance between the two of you.

“How much is it?” You ask again. “Hey, does asking for your opinion have a price?”

“Geez. Why do you keep asking me about money and prices? I literally said I’m not a numbers guy. Don’t go back to the circle, Y/N.” He widens his eyes at you.

“I don’t know; you might be similar to a legal counselor. Don’t they charge clients per session?”

“We’re going off-topic, Y/N,” he says in exasperation. “I don’t know about other artists, but I’m not charging you for asking. Actually, you know what? Pay me with a favor instead. Don’t ask Thomas about a price! You’re commissioning me with a favor!”

The mental note in your head falls down like a ripped-out post-it. “Oh, OK! Thanks?”

“And no, my opinion is for free. You might never ask me for it again if I said it costs something.”

You shrug. “Possibly.”

“So let’s—” Rafayel looks around the room. “Sit down. Your legs must ache from standing all afternoon.”

You sit down on the couch he gestures to. It’s a little relieving on the leg area. Meanwhile, Rafayel tugs his collar with a nervous swallow as he sits next to you. In his hands are two pencils and an eraser shaped like an octopus.

“So, sunset?” He asks awkwardly.

You look at his eyes and smile. “Yes. Sunset.”

“OK. Sunset.”

“Uh-huh. Sunset. Should I get the paper you ripped earlier? And the sketchbook so it can be on top of something?” You say with hands already outstretched.

“So chivalrous,” he teases, but the frown on his face makes the teasing come off as awkward. You playfully scoff to avoid embarrassing him. “Yes. Please start.”

With the paper and sketchbook on your lap, you draw the first line.

The second. The third.

Then regret it.

“Yikes.”

“Hm?”

When you look at Rafayel, he no longer looks flustered. Replacing his awkward eyes is an intense, focused gaze. You instinctively cover the “drawing” with your palm, but Rafayel’s warm fingers pulls it back.

“This will be my tattoo.” You try to avoid feeling awkward.

He studies the drawing for a few beats. Then intently at your neck.

“Press your ear like this. I want to see the space where this will go.”

Awkwardly, you turn your head and press your ear forward to fold it.

“Is it this ear?”

“Yes.”

“Portrait?”

“Yes, portrait. I want it to be visible.”

You hold the pose for a few more seconds. Rafayel’s silence is making you feel more and more flustered. He exhales, mind in mid-thought.

“What do you think? As an artist?”

“I won’t answer that,” he says earnestly, “but do you want me to change it?”

“Please,” you whisper. “I mean, that’s what the entire conversation earlier was about, anyway. A talented artist to draw my tattoo. Hopefully.”

“I’ll make a few suggestions.”

Rafayel does not take the paper on the sketchbook away from your lap. Instead, he uses the second pencil and draws on it.

This is weird.

The warmness that radiates from him—from his close proximity with you—feels quite comforting. You suddenly remember the mattress of the bed when you used to live with Grandma. It just… it felt nice. You feel your upper body lose its tension.

Plus, you can see the violet strands of his hair up close. It’s a pretty color. Maybe violet will be your favorite color, from now on.

“Here, check this out—”

You snap out of your thoughts, but you do not make it obvious.

Rafayel created two sample tattoos, following at least two of the three lines you drew. It seems like the base for his modification drawings.

“What do you think?”

Your heart starts thumping in your chest like a lion in its cage. There’s a… there’s a rush of excitement in your stomach and in your throat. This is pretty. This is genius. Rafayel is able to turn something amateur into something great and you can’t help but be amazed. “That’s infinitely better, wow!”

“Are you sure? We can do better than that. I mean, this one’s stroke is out of line…”

“Sure, but these are pretty as they are! I must owe you a huge favor for this ‘commission,’ right?”

Something changes in Rafayel’s eyes. He looks a little sheepish. “Actually.”

“Yes?”

“I know what favor to ask of you now.”

“Tell me. Strike while the iron’s hot,” strike while we’re on the topic!

“How open are you to having me as your tattoo artist?”

[solxamber]

At first, I like and support the most of your work. It's well written and in a style I like. But of course, I have a little request. Diasomnia, 4, Fluff (Comedy)

You can pick on your own, if it has to be Fluff or Comedy. I am fine with the both of them.

thank you so much!

You: 1, Gargoyles: 0 || Malleus Draconia

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Comedy

You loved Malleus. Truly. But there was only so much gargoyle trivia a person could endure before losing their mind.

Currently, he was waxing poetic about the symmetry of a gargoyle he'd seen in the Valley of Thorns, his eyes sparkling like he was confessing his first love.

“…and the way its wings curve? Utterly sublime. A craftsmanship that transcends time. Wouldn’t you agree?”

So then, in a fit of mischief, you said it. The words that would send your entire week spiraling into chaos:

“Sometimes I think you love gargoyles more than me.”

Silence.

The air grew thick. The moon dimmed. Somewhere, Sebek probably sneezed dramatically in the distance.

Malleus turned to you slowly, his expression one of deep betrayal. “What did you just say?”

“It’s a joke, Malleus,” you said, already regretting everything.

But he ignored you, his brows furrowing in the way that meant your next week was about to get very strange. “You think I love gargoyles more than you?”

“I don’t! That’s why it’s a joke!” you said quickly, waving your hands for emphasis.

But he wasn’t listening. Oh no, the great Prince of the Briar Valley had entered “dramatic spiral” mode.

“This cannot stand,” he said, already pacing like he was strategizing for war. “You must understand the depth of my affection. Gargoyles are… significant, yes. But you… you are far more important.”

“That’s nice, Malleus, but—”

“No! You must be convinced.”

The next morning, you woke up to chaos. Your dorm was… infested.

Stone gargoyles. Everywhere.

On your desk. Perched on your windowsill. One was even sitting in your chair, looking smug.

“MALLEUS!” you screeched, running out into the hallway only to find him waiting there, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Do you see?” he said, gesturing proudly at the invasion. “I have brought my gargoyle collection to you. I share my deepest loves only with those who matter most. Surely now you understand your place in my heart.”

You pointed wildly at the stone monstrosities. “HOW DOES THIS PROVE ANYTHING?!”

Malleus blinked, tilting his head. “You said I love gargoyles more than you, so I have shared them with you. This is logical."

“This is UNHINGED.”

“And yet,” he countered smoothly, “you are still more radiant than they.”

You were so stunned by his sincerity that you almost forgot you were still yelling. Almost.

It got worse.

Malleus started comparing you to gargoyles.

“Your posture rivals that of the Archguard Protector in Thornmere Castle,” he mused as you sat at lunch.

“I don’t even know what that means!”

“And your smile,” he continued dreamily, “could put the Stone Warden’s eternal vigil to shame.”

You buried your face in your hands, debating your life choices.

The next day, you walked into Ramshackle dorm only to find your living room covered in… gargoyle carvings?

“Malleus, what—”

“These,” he announced grandly, stepping forward with a flourish, “are gifts. I carved them myself to show you how much I cherish you. Each one represents a moment that I value in our time together.”

You stared at the gargoyle army invading your living space, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or faint. “You realize this still doesn’t actually prove anything, right?”

He frowned. “But you said—”

“I was joking!”

Malleus tilted his head, confused. “So… you are not jealous of the gargoyles?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “No, I’m not jealous of the gargoyles! I was making a joke!”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. “You seemed very sincere.”

“I wasn’t!”

“But you—”

“I wasn’t!”

Malleus sighed, looking truly distressed. “Then how am I to express my feelings for you if not through grand gestures? Do you not like the gargoyles I made?”

Your heart softened at his genuine concern, but you couldn’t let this go on. “Malleus, I don’t need you to prove anything. I know you like me. You could have just said so.”

“But actions speak louder than words,” he replied solemnly.

You burst out laughing, and Malleus looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“You are losing your mind,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“Oh, I’m the one losing my mind?” you said through giggles.

Malleus nodded. “Clearly. Perhaps you have spent too much time with Lilia.”

That only made you laugh harder, and eventually, Malleus joined in, though he still looked confused about what, exactly, was so funny.

In the end, you kept one of the gargoyle carvings—the smallest one—as a memento. The rest? They mysteriously vanished overnight. You didn’t ask questions.

But the next time Malleus started talking about gargoyles, you kept your jokes to yourself.

Masterlist

[lotusloong]

So in @blackknight-kai's Wukong Simp server the conversation somehow got to Wukong being a rockstar and @1v31182m5 made this incredible art of punk/rockstar Wukong that gave me a full on heart attack I loved it so much. (Whether or not Mary decides to share this art is up to them) They then proceeded to draw another sketch of Wukong like this due to me threatening to kiss him and it inspired this bit of writing from me. It’s not much but considering how bad my writer’s block has been lately, I’ll take it lolol

Reader is depicted as female, PWP drabble

You separate with a desperate gasp for air, your lips swollen from being sucked and bitten on for roughly an hour at this point. Wukong doesn’t look much better - his lips are just as bruised as your own, his pupils blown wide with the thinnest ring of gold surrounding them, his chest heaving and tail flicking against the cold wall his back is pressed against. The erection pressing against your tummy lets you know exactly how much he’s been enjoying your current makeout despite the sound of screaming fans just down the hall and on the other side of the stage.

“S-sounds like…you have to get out there…” You breathe, pressing another kiss to the fur above his collarbone. Your handiwork is littered all over him, kiss mark upon kiss mark on his fur and skin painting a picture of your love and possessiveness over him. The monkey grips your hips and tugs you closer to him, grinding his hard cock against you lazily.

“Eh, they can…can wait a little more…” He growls. He nuzzles his nose against the shell of your ear, nipping the delicate skin. You whimper and clutch tighter at his jacket, the thick spikes of steel glinting in the harsh backstage light. The black leather under your fingers is soft and familiar, his smell of cigarette smoke and stone surrounding you. 

“Oh no you don’t, last time we went over Bajie threw a fucking fit. I am not dealing with another jealous tantrum.” You loved the pig, he was like a brother to you, but good god his jealousy over your relationship was exhausting sometimes. You just wished he would finally settle with someone so he would get off your back about not letting pleasure get in the way of your boyfriend’s work. Wukong seems to be thinking along the same lines, if the relenting scowl on his lipstick stained lips was anything to go by.

“Fine, fine…but you’re gonna help me out with this after the show, yeah?” He gestures at his hard on with a single hand and a raised eyebrow, a cheeky smirk directed at you. Just to rile him up further you trace a finger over the thick curve in his jeans, biting your still sensitive lower lip at the jerk it gives under your touch.

“Of course~ Now go out there and show ‘em all a damn good show, and who you belong to, hm?” You press another kiss to his jawline, delighted by the shiver he gives in response. 

“Whatever my peaches says~” Wukong purrs into your ear before stepping away with a two fingered salute.

~~~~~~~

“F-fuck-! Squeeze me tighter, fucking slut-” His hand smacks hard across the curve of your ass, and on instinct you do as he orders. Your cunt gushes around the thick cock slamming into you, the fur of Wukong’s thighs absolutely soaked with your previous orgasms. Your knees shake where they’re spread open for him to stand between. The only thing keeping you standing upright is the wall your tits and face are being pressed against, and Wukong’s furred arms circled tight around your waist. You can feel the tip of his fat cock kissing your womb with every thrust, and it makes tears leak out the corner of your eyes, your mascara running in black rivers. 

The lipstick marks still pepper his face and neck, the hickeys you made three hours earlier darkened throughout the show to make beautiful purple and blue spots on his skin. You hope he’ll let you make more of them before his next show too. You had gotten a thrill seeing all his fangirls cry in heartbreak when he stepped onto the stage looking like this, and you want to do it again.

Another smack to your ass has you whimpering, your hips pushing back against his desperately as you cream yourself on his dick. Wukong lets out a growl of bliss as you cum, throwing his head back and panting steam into the cold night air. His thrusting slows down as he savors the feeling of your pussy fluttering over his length, his hands roaming the expanse of your back and hips as he rocks against you.

“Sh-sh…shit…oh my god, Wu-Wukong…” Is all you manage to whimper, your voice ragged. He chuckles behind you, a deadly sound.

“Yeah peaches? You like getting fucked backstage like a desperate slut? You were practically soaking the floor when I got back here, I’m sure every yaoguai in this fucking stadium could smell you.” 

You squeak and bury your face against the wall, heat rising to your cheeks even as you buck back against him. One of his clawed hands tangles in your hair and yanks your head back, his golden eyes peering down at you with lust and love.

“Such a good girl, all for me. You want me to cum inside this slutty little cunt, hmm?” He teases, licking a long stripe from your jawline to your temple.

“Y-yes, yes please, fuck me more-oh god-!” He doesn’t wait for you to finish, his thrusts picking up speed once more and smacking against your wet thighs. Your pussy gives a lewd ‘sliqck’ noise every time he pulls out.

“Good, good…Fuck yes, gonna cum in this tight cunt and then-and then-!” He cuts off with a growl, grinding against you in a tight circle that has your weak knees finally give out. He helps you sink slowly to the concrete floor, his thrusting never slowing down.

You're in for a long night.

[vigilskeep]

Do we know enough about how Crow succession and talonship works to believe it would be possible for Viago to take the seat of first talon either through some sort of non-violent coup in the absence of an heir to house Dellamorte or through marrying his kid (rook) off to Lucanis? Asking because I really don't know and would love to write something in that direction...and you seem a crow enthusiast...also love your blog

THEORETICALLY. yes.

we haven’t seen the talons shift directly, but they do shift, with regularity. house arainai was first talon in living memory and then fell slowly downwards to their current point where they’re struggling in and out of eight talon like a drowning man who keeps finding his way to air for just enough breath

the eight talons system, if you’ll allow me the tangent, is a really fascinating choice of fantasy hierarchy because it is such a clear hierarchy. among a bunch of ambitious killers whose prime goal is notoriety. you can only hold each position here if everyone below you is too afraid to do anything about it. what an anxiety trip it must be to decide whether to push someone down just one rung or to try to destroy them entirely; do you want to leave your rival with more opportunity or more motivation? but crow power is also all about theatre, all about perception—you are first or fifth or seventh talon primarily because everyone agrees that you are—so making a failed gambit for a higher talon has got to be incredibly damaging. which is a risky setup. it discourages attempts, but when someone does make an attempt, they will not be fucking around

anyway ignore all that we’re talking about soft takeovers today. okay so house dellamorte has a dying core family, theoretically. we’re making the assumption that no surviving young children from any branch of the family are mentioned because none exist. we have two heirs, neither very acceptable (my apologies to caterina’s delusions), both men in their 30s with (again, assumed) no children, and neither making much progress in that regard. (arguably dependent on player choice when it comes to lucanis, but since he can fall in love with and express his undying devotion to any kind of rook, we can at least say he’s not making that much effort.) within a generation the core family may die out. but that is a LONG TIME to wait. you still have to deal with the current ones, they’re pretty robust

lucanis is the current first talon as of the end of veilguard. can he be convinced to give this up and hand first talon over to someone better suited? i do believe it. mostly because i need to believe, for my mental health, that we can get him out of there. but he also now has a fairly bulky support system full of people who love him and will notice how bad this is going to be and convince him he deserves things like a life he doesn’t hate

as always your main problem is caterina. caterina is not going to allow a takeover, soft or otherwise, while she is still alive. caterina didn’t give up first talon when they murdered her children. there’s probably an emotional plot in here where she can be made to accept what she’s done to her family, far too late, but with time left to save just one by letting him go. on the other hand, i’ve also been experimenting with plots in my mind where she tries to quietly get rid of viago or romanced rook for having too much influence, with the added benefit on hopefully being able to steel & refocus lucanis on defending the house against whoever she frames. or plots where she blames lucanis trying to leave and not being the boy she remembers on his, you know, demonic possession, and attempts to forcibly remove or destroy spite. so. there’s potential ups and downs, here.

i don’t know how helpful rook de riva/lucanis is. most of your problem here is that everything that sets this ending up by giving the de rivas more power, and by giving any rook more power over lucanis, is something that in my mind would crank caterina’s wariness all the way up. house de riva surely has to move up from fifth already after the events of the game and look more like a contender, and i don’t think even caterina’s delusions about lucanis’ suitability for first talon could make her blind to the effect rook can obviously have. i definitely think she would delay on a marriage and have the power to do that

i think it’s worth saying that rook de riva at any point bringing up to lucanis the idea of handing things over to viago would be a hell of a conversation. i know lucanis never remotely suspects rook of any agenda and trusts them completely, and i know i agree with rook here, but you’ve GOT to see how “i love you and having power is bad for you and what you should do is hand it all over to my talon” sounds. i truly could not blame him for a bit of doubt here especially if caterina was around to suggest it

sorry this is a completely messy and disconnected response. i don’t even know if i had a point. you might have to wait for caterina to actually die? is that my point? i can see rook de riva/lucanis being helpful to ease a transition of power to house de riva then. i also think it’s worth pointing out that teia might be the better contender for all this out of the two lovebirds. what quietly makes teia probably the most dangerous talon in the crows, if she ever chose to be, is that everyone likes her. i’m not joking or trying to handwave crow politics, it’s a form of soft power and the result of her cultivated skill that nobody ever suspects teia of anything. even caterina treats her gently, and literally a talon who tried to murder all the others in tevinter nights was delaying murdering her because she was his favourite. if anyone can handle a gentler transition like what we’re talking about, maybe it’s more likely to be teia

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] Kinktober Day 8: "Sthenolagnia"

Summary: You've always had a not-so-well-hidden thing for men with muscles. So, it was only to be expected that you would develop a crush on Alex!

Warning(s): Reader is a picky lady in this one, Dub-con(?), Alex is kinda mean in this one, Fingering, Muscle Worship kinda(More so that the reader just really likes men with muscles and her dreams come true tbh)

Side Note(s): quick note: sthenolagnia just equals "muscle worship". when i first heard of it, it sounded way dirtier than what it actually is.

Also second side-note, instead of Anthon from ZZZ. I'm gonna switch it up to Alex from SDV because— idk, I thought it would fit him more lol.

You've always been into a certain type of body type when it came down to your men.

Tall and handsome? That was a given and easy to find on a good day, but...what really got you going? A man that was fit and hunky, broad-shouldered, and with arms strong enough to crush a melon between his bicep and forearm. And with such a specific type of interest, your numbers in the dating pool reduced significantly. You thought you'd be able to ignore it, and date men who were outside of your picky selection box but...it was so hard!

As someone who preferred to be tossed around.

You couldn't stand the thought of a man with arms as thin as a pencil being able to do that to you!

You had just about given up until your grandfather recommended you to move to Stardew Valley on account of a letter you had finally gotten around to reading a few years after his sudden passing. When you packed your bags and got on the first bus there, you weren't expecting much really. A farming town? Old people and families, at most. You weren't expecting there to be people your age and you were fine with that!

You tried to focus your mind on doing good by your grandfather.

At least...until your plans were derailed a little.

When you saw him. The only gridball player in the entire town, tall and handsome, with sun-kissed skin and a pair of green eyes you found yourself getting caught up in every time you spotted him in town! But your favorite part about the stranger? (Who you soon came to figure out was named 'Alex') It was his muscles.

You were hooked on having a taste, just a small one! Nothing too major, after being stuck with such poor pickings in Zuzu city for the last few years, you were a tad bit desperate to fulfill your fantasies!

Luckily, however, Alex was eager to fulfill his own fantasies, especially with the cute new farmer who kept eyeing him like a piece of meat every time you two happened to be in the same vicinity.

. . .

Alex currently sat behind you on the bare wooden floor, your back arched against his chest as he hooked his legs over your won, forcing them to stay open as he used a hand to piston his thick fingers in and out of your pussy whilst he used his free arm to keep you in a headlock. You whined pathetically as loud squelches echoed throughout your small farmhouse, your slick spitting out of your cunt dirtily.

Alex tightened his lock around your head, the tight feeling of his muscles making you dizzy as fat tears began to dot your eyeline. "Stop squirmin' farm girl," Alex hissed against your ear. "You can definitely take it, can't you?" He continued mockingly all before it was followed by a harsh slap against your pussy. A yelp left your lips, Alex laughing at your whines as he strained he looked over your shoulder to admire his work of making the newest addition to the town into his own personal slut.

He slapped your pussy again, enjoying your cries before he suddenly yanked his fingers out from your wetness and shoving them back in, continuing his unforgiving pace. "A-Alex!" You keened. "T-Too...t-too much!" Your body shook and jerked in Alex's hold, your nails scratching fruitlessly against his forearm as your body didn't seem to know whether it wanted Alex to keep you in a headlock or if it wanted him to let you go to get more air into your lungs.

However, Alex was having none of it.

Instead, he loosened his headlock, allowing you a few seconds of air before he resumed his lock only this time...he slapped a hand around your mouth to silence your moans. He roughly pressed your head back against his shoulder, forcing you to look at him while his fingers started to curl and abuse your g-spot.

One merciless thrust after the other...

"Stupid farm girl," He said to you cruelly with a disapproving look in his eyes. "Can't you listen? I said...take it." He hissed.

Your blush behind his hand only increased as you felt his cock twitch and bounce in its confines against your ass. Yet, Alex, he forced himself to be patient as he tried to focus on the imagination of what your pussy would feel like, clenched around his cock as desperately as it was currently on his fingers. "C'mon cute girl, squirt over my fingers and I'll loosen up on you like you're beggin' me to!" He laughed.

He soon paused his fingers momentarily, your brain foolishly beginning to convince itself that he was giving you a break until...he resumed, shoving an extra finger alongside the current two that were inside of you as all three digits honed in on your g-spot. Your whines behind his hand grew higher and higher in pitch, tears falling down your face from the sheer intensity of your pleasure as your thighs started to shake. Your whole body was beginning to shudder more and more until...a stream of liquid gushed out of your cunt.

Alex groaned at the delicious sight, licking his lips as a smirk plastered itself onto his handsome features. "Gooood girl..." He whispered against your ear, placing an appreciative kiss on your cheek, fingering your cunt, and praising you until your squirt finally died down.

Alex kissed you one last time as he pulled his fingers from your cunt. "Knew you could do it, farm girl," He smirked. His arms quickly wrapped around your torso, hugging you to his chest as you struggled to catch your breath, whining and moaning freely now that your mouth wasn't covered anymore. Shakily, your hands ran over Alex's arm appreciatively. And the whole time, your eyes trailed over the beads of sweat that beaded the skin of his forearm and bicep, like a dog eyeing its new favorite toy.

And Alex didn't even dare think of missing the way your eyes threatened to form into hearts as you looked at his muscles. "Y' like that?" He snickered as his arms tightened around you more. "You'll be getting more of 'em in a second. Next, I'll fuck you on that squeaky ass bed of yours, you can admire my arms as I fuck you in a mating press." He continued.

That was when Alex's cock twitched against your ass again, you knew good and well that you weren't a break anytime soon.

Not until you squirted around his cock that is.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

Another week chock full of Japanese ql. I am officially dropping a currently airing show from QL Corner--let us never speak of it again. Of the other six shows still airing now, five are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

This is quickly becoming one of my favorite things airing—it gets better every week, and it's been good from the start! This story is a great example of the way tension and depth of feeling in a great romance can build. I was delighted to have Takara confirm Taishin's confession and coax him into dating this early on because it means we are going to actually spend some time with them figuring out how to work as a couple. And I don't expect it will be smooth sailing, because these two have some incompatible issues that are going to exacerbate each other.

Cosmetic Playlover

This show is gorgeous, but it all feels pretty empty. Thank you to @usertoxicyaoi for confirming that the show is racing through the plot so it can cover the whole arc of the manga. I'm glad to understand why it's doing this, but it doesn't help with my total emotional disconnect from the story, because the show is rushing through and not letting us actually experience this relationship. They tell us they like each other, then that they're in love, then that they're established and struggling, but I can't feel it because they haven't brought us along for any of that. This week featured an interesting plot about their professional growth and how it challenges their relationship, but I was frustrated because I have no investment in said relationship to give the plot stakes. I may just have to accept that this one will stay a treat for the eyes but lacking in depth for me.

I Hear the Sunspot

We back! After a bit of a miscalibrated installment last week, this episode felt more characteristic and we finally got our boys back on track. Maya was less egregiously mean to people this week and her interference was treated as more comedic than sinister, which is a much better fit for the tone of this show. And once Kohei got around her, he finally talked properly with Taichi and asked him to stay on as his notetaker, reaffirming their friendship in the process. Despite Maya's efforts to convince him otherwise, Kohei has not wavered and his firm declaration that he doesn't want anyone but Taichi taking his notes or eating his food had me gasping. For his part, Taichi is getting better at keeping his cool and finding words when Kohei lets his feelings slip, and he's clearly thinking a lot about his own feelings and whether their connection is really about friendship.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Oh man, this show has really gotten itself into a muddle. We finally got a kiss, but it hardly felt like a triumph. This episode was a bit of a return to form, with Ayaka back to her relentless pursuit of Hiroko, but the way the story diverged to change the conflict midstream has mucked it all up. For the first half the conflict was about Hiroko believing Ayaka is straight, and then suddenly it was about a different work-related closet trauma that did not connect to that. Now it’s touching on both but in a way that makes Hiroko seem inconsistent, because now that she knows Ayaka is a lesbian it doesn't track that she would continue to patronize and dismiss her, and it also sucks that Ayaka is harassing Hiroko at work despite knowing she doesn't want to be out. It feels like the story is invalidating Hiroko’s fears about being out in a way we know is not consistent with reality. This would all work better if the backstory had been about Hiroko falling for a woman who succumbed to comphet and we kept up the misunderstanding and comedy about Ayaka being straight. As it is, I feel like our heroine no longer makes sense and our couple still hasn't formed a real connection, and with only one episode to go it’s unlikely they’ll land the plane.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

I just love everything about this show and its mature perspective on relationships. In the aftermath of Ishida's hasty confession (and his attempt to walk it back, which I love that Mitsuya did not fall for), we take a beat for Mitsuya to consider the two men circling him and what he wants from his life. I loved that he took the time he needed to process and end his relationship with Noguchi on his own terms this time, and to consider whether he has the desire and the energy to try again with someone new. When he said he has his home and his work and his Frito and that's enough for him, I felt that. But Ishida has already gotten to him, and as Shige wisely pointed out, Mitsuya must care about him quite a bit to be considering this deeply before making a move. I'm not sure he's ready to dive in, but he doesn't have much will to fight it, either. You can go here for the files to watch this episode, with big thanks to @isaksbestpillow and @nicks-den.

Tagging @bengiyo to add this week's anime update.

[jscrawls]

Addams Anon from before here 👋 omg I gotta know how reader and John happened like??? Why'd they break up??? Author PLZ I need details 🙏

I wrote a one shot just for u anon 💜

Grave feelings

One shot (request) how'd you date HIM of all people?

🔹🔹🔹

“Alright, I've gotta ask the big question….. How'd you meet him? I can't exactly picture you in a dive bar.”

Dick swirled his drink around in his glass idly as he speaks up, interrupting your attempts at baby-talking Alfred the cat into jumping in your lap while you're all sitting around the dining room, those pouty lips curled into an unsure grimace as he hesitantly asks what's on everyone's mind.

You look away from the cat that's currently biting you to meet his eye unnervingly quickly, you grin broadly at him and the others around the table and lean on closer to rest your elbows on the old polished wood. Your own drink long-since forgotten in favor of pestering the Wayne's pets.

“Me and John? It was nothing too extravagant. a warm summer night, heat lightning and the smell of wine in the air, summoning circles in the backyard, it was as lovely as it was simple and straightforward.” You sigh, melancholic for simpler times, when you had more free time to devote to your dark lords in their pursuit of the dark conquests.

Cass mimics your pose and leans forward on her elbows, dark brows drawn together tightly as she stares you down. “He showed up when you summoned something?”

Her head tilts like a curious cat, eyeing you with genuine curiosity instead of the slightly uncomfortable looks the others give you.

Jason avoids your form entirely as he nurses his drink, choosing to scowl at the wall or pull on the strings of the tablecloth just so he doesn't look like he's listening, he's still willingly sitting at the table though.

“No, it was more the other way around actually! I was in the middle of conversing with this lovely little imp when John summoned the very same one, things happened and I found myself in a different summoning circle looking at a blonde British man. Things just progressed from there.”

Dick hums into his drink distractedly as he leans back in his chair, like Cass he's studying you closely. Though he looks more concerned than curious.

Bruce sighs exasperatedly from the head of the table and leans his head against his fist, giving you a disapproving look. “Constantine accidentally summoned you and somehow you two wound up together? You don't even shock me anymore.”

Barbara looks more interested though and clears her throat to get your attention before you can respond to Bruce. “ahem, I'd like to know why you two ended things then….. You two broke up right?”

Jason and Bruce both shoot her a look but she ignores it, she crosses her arms over her chest and a near-smug smirk stretches her lips when you look at her and grin even wider.

“Things did end, yes. You could say the spark died when he changed…. Things weren't the same so I ended it.” You glance down at your lap and sigh, and for just a moment everyone around the table feels bad for bringing up the topic.

After a moment Jason is the one to break the silence, he carefully chooses his words while sneaking curious glances in your direction.

“…. How'd things change? Was he more of a dick than Dickie here or something.”

Dick leans over in his chair to elbow him in the side, whether it was for the insensitive timing or the name joke is unclear because you answer him anyways.

“I wouldn't say that, it was just…. He acted different around me when he found out I wasn't a demon from hell…. No more blood offerings to me, he'd call me on the phone instead of through circles, He wouldn't even use his moon blade on me anymore. The romance died for me. Sometimes things aren't meant to work out I suppose.”

They all seem to collectively scowl at you when they hear the whole story from your own lips. What is wrong with you??

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: hope you like this anon! 🖤💜🖤

[slasherslittlesimp]

Jacob Black- Soulmates or Not

Sitting inside a tent during the dead of winter isn't something you currently want to be doing. The other thing you don't want to be doing? Listening to your 'soulmate' basically argue about how he's better for Bella as he snuggles against her inside a sleeping bag as her boyfriend watches alongside you. You can tell that Edward can hear your annoyed thoughts from the way he keeps glancing at you.

The vampire feels bad, especially since Jacob hasn't thought about you a single time since you both arrived. He knows that Jacob doesn't see you as his imprint and that you're quite heartbroken over that fact. Yet because you're Bella's sibling, Jacob doesn't outright want to push you away.

Pretty much from the moment he imprinted on you he let you know that he'd never be anything more than a protector and friend for you. It's why you're currently up in the mountains freezing your ass off instead of being safe elsewhere. Because despite him not wanting you as his imprint, he still wants you close to where he can keep an eye on you and protect you if need be.

Tired of being around the awkward love triangle, you mutter something about needing fresh air before stepping outside of the tent. You're unsure whether or not any of them heard you or if they simply ignored you since nobody responded. Standing outside of the tent, you take a few chilling deep breaths before deciding to head back down the mountain.

At this point you don't particularly care about the threat of a newborn army even as you find yourself standing in front of a red haired woman. You know almost instantly that this is the vampire everyone has been concerned about despite having never seen her yourself. The two of you simply stare at each other, neither moving.

"Victoria, right?" You question, deciding you might as well have a chat before she inevitably kills you.

"You smell like her." Victoria's eyes narrow as she glares at you.

Shrugging, you give her a bored look. "She's my sister so it would make sense. Look, I couldn't possibly care less about what you do to me. Kill me, turn me, use me as bait- though it wouldn't work that well. Just get it over with, yeah? I'm sure you have better things to be doing right now than having a staring contest with me."

The vampire is a bit caught off guard by your uncaring attitude. You truly seem to not care about what she could do to you. And despite being curious as to why, and also wondering why you believe being used as bait wouldn't work, she knows she doesn't have the time to waste questioning you.

In a flash Victoria is inches away from you, one hand grasping your hair and pulling your head back while the other keeps a tight grip on your shoulder to keep you from moving. She takes a deep breath, humming pleasantly at your scent before stretching her mouth wide open. You wince slightly as she digs her fangs into your throat, though that discomfort quickly turns to pain.

As she releases you, you collapse to the ground writhing in agony, gasping for breath you can't seem to catch. Your vision blurs in and out, unable to focus on your surroundings. Due to this, you fail to see Victoria getting killed, along with multiple concerned faces hovering over you.

"What the hell are you waiting for?!" The voice is muffled, you barely being able to understand what's being said. "Save them!"

Everything fades in and out, your vision constantly shifting between black and light. A blurred figure kneels over you, and as they get closer you can barely make out the tense form of Edward. His lips are moving yet his words remain unheard as you simply stare at him. Edward looks rather pained as he stares down at you, his lips moving one last time in an unheard apology before he leans down.

You groan in pain as his teeth dig into exactly where Victoria's had been. The longer Edward has his mouth connected to your neck, the woozier you begin to feel. The agonizing pain fades away and is instead replaced with the uncomfortable feeling of dizziness and nausea. You can almost hear someone yelling at him before he's pulled away, leaving you lying on the snow covered ground.

You fall unconscious from the blood loss just before someone else kneels over you, their eyes surprisingly filled with tears as they try to get you to wake up.

[voxofthevoid]

Back to pornland with Fem GoYuu Infidelity Wednesday #8 🍑

I've been largely busy this month and will probably continue to be, but I've been pecking at the fic whenever I can. It's crossed 70k, and I'm on Chapter 11 out of 14—there is a chance that will become 15 though.

I'm currently working on the main conflict of the narrative, but you get strap-on (ft. a monster dildo) sex this week.

“You said you’ve never done this before,” Satoru says, not even trying to smother the accusation in her voice.

“I haven’t.” Yuuji doesn’t seem bothered, only the slight slowing of her hips indicating that her attention’s split. “But I watched stuff after you brought it up. And I thought of you, sensei.”

“You thought of me,” Satoru echoes, gravel lining every syllable.

“Yeah,” Yuuji breathes, and finally, her thumb shifts, rubbing a slow circle on Satoru’s clit, and the pressure doesn’t change an iota, but Satoru’s muscles still seize from calves to shoulders, caught in a wave of bone-curling pleasure. “What you like, what you say. The sounds you make. How wet you get.”

“Yuuji,” Satoru rasps, rolling her hips in a shameless bid for more—more pressure, more cock, more Yuuji.

Then she has nothing, the hand and the toy gone from her cunt.

But Yuuji’s hand returns before Satoru can protest beyond a furious noise, and the fingers that slide into her aren’t textured or inhumanly girthy, but Yuuji crams in three of them to the last fucking knuckle, the thumb slotting along the slit while the final finger scrapes the taint, and Satoru fucks up into the air, chasing the lashing pleasure.

Yuuji takes her hand out, her thumb swiping down Satoru’s cunt in the same motion, and when she holds it up, it’s slick all over. Stringy ropes connect the three that were inside Satoru.

And Satoru’s not one for shame, but the way Yuuji’s holding that hand up as if to show Satoru how needy her body is—it makes her burn from cheeks to cunt, a filthy thrill.

“You—”

“You like it rough,” Yuuji announces before Satoru can decide whether to curse or bless the girl. “You like it when it hurts.”

“And?” Satoru snaps.

Yuuji looks surprised by the tone. Her eyes scan Satoru’s face intently.

Then she laughs, low and amused.

The humiliating heat eating into Satoru’s bones triples in intensity.

Satoru opens her mouth—

“I had an idea,” Yuuji says warmly. “That’s all.”

—and closes it, swallowing words she can’t remember the shape of, only that they’d have gotten her slapped or spanked or just fucked within an inch of her life. At least that’s the effect she on Suguru, years ago. She doesn’t know how Yuuji will react. She knows she’ll find out someday.

Now she just watches as Yuuji wraps her slick-splattered hand around the toy, stroking it long and hot.

“Oh,” Satoru breathes out, “fuck.”

Yuuji’s hand comes to a rest just under the tip, guiding it back into Satoru like she has countless times already, but this time, she doesn’t stop, pushing in inch by exquisite inch until that monstrous mass in the middle runs up against the resistance of human flesh.

Yuuji frowns down at it, humming.

“Don’t do it,” Satoru hears herself say, her voice a wretched thing. “Yuuji, don’t—”

“I’m not just gonna ram it in, sensei,” Yuuji cuts in, her tone almost chiding—as if she’s offended that Satoru would think so low of her.

Yuuji’s moving before Satoru can wrap her mind around the sheer audacity of this girl, and then her thoughts are lost to the molten clench of her own flesh.

Yuuji doesn’t ram it in, pulling out instead, and she fucks back in the next moment, sheathing the toy until that girthy middle slaps against Satoru’s cunt. A wet noise echoes out, making Satoru burn almost as much as the ridged silicone splitting her open—the few inches that’re inside her aren’t enough to strain her, but just like before, the bulbous design and the fact that it’s attached to Yuuji carve molten hollows into her flesh and her soul.

Then Yuuji starts moving in earnest, both of her hands clamping down on the sides of Satoru’s thighs while her hips roll with slow, steady motions that push the toy into Satoru just to tug it back out, every bump and ridge scoring along her slick, shuddering walls.

Satoru tightens her legs around Yuuji and breathes out through her nose.

The pace doesn’t stay slow and steady, growing in fits and bursts. A rough thrust claws up Satoru’s cunt and into her gut, making a mess of her entrails, and the shock of it’s barely passed before Yuuji pulling out all sweet and gentle, till only the tip is inside Satoru, and even that’s plenty for her to squeeze and moan around, but the sound breaks into a high-pitched yelp when Yuuji shoves back in, slamming the knobby mass in the middle against Satoru’s hole, which burns and flutters and doesn’t give.

Yuuji says, “I think I’m getting the hang of this, sensei.”

“I can see that,” Satoru grits out.

Yuuji just grins brightly and, as if emboldened by Satoru’s words, leans over her, one of her hands running up Satoru’s thigh and hip and side, all the way to the swell of her breast, and Satoru can’t hold back a moan when Yuuji squeezes it, skewered by a heat born less from the sensation than the act.

Yuuji’s fingers curl into her neckline—and yank it roughly down.

“Hey—”

“Knew it,” Yuuji says, her voice thick with the kind of satisfaction that runs hot. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“You should know,” Satoru says, trying for sharp but landing on fond instead, “what with how much you’ve been staring at them.”

Predictably, Yuuji shows no shame, only flashing Satoru a cheeky grin as she plucks the nipple pasties from the middle of her tits. And Satoru scowls up at her, feigning offense, but it’s lost on the girl now staring hungrily at her bared chest. Satoru’s traitorous body rewards that blistering gaze with perky, prickling nipples, the flesh of her breasts growing tight and tender in mingled anticipation and approval.

Yuuji grabs them with both hands, her body shifting in ways that make the toy dig into Satoru at new angles. The rough pressure clamped around her tits make it worse, trapping Satoru in a barrage of scorching sensations.

And Yuuji sets about proving her earlier claim, fucking into Satoru with forceful thrusts that split her cunt around flesh-warmed silicone. Wet noises splatter the air, pulling Satoru’s blood in conflicting directions.

More devastating than all the touching and thrusting is the look on Yuuji’s face—the hot-eyed hunger that rakes over Satoru, never lingering on one spot for long but burning everything it touches. Satoru’s cheeks grow hot, and her tits ache in Yuuji’s clutch. And below, her cunt throbs like a second heart, pulsing faster and hotter whenever Yuuji’s gaze sweeps down to drink in what she’s doing to Satoru.

It’s a lot. This girl and her lust—they’re consuming.

Maybe that’s why Satoru doesn’t realize exactly what’s happening—what Yuuji’s doing—until the burning soon makes itself known past the blistering heat permeating every inch of her body, and then it’s all she can feel.

The pressure, the strain, the burn.

“Yuuji,” she gasps, reaching up to grab those strong shoulders, and there’s the ridiculous urge to shake this girl, but Satoru’s the one who’ll pay the price for that too, stuck like a spitted pig on this girl’s brand-new cock. “Yuuji, what’re you doing?”

“You told me to,” Yuuji replies, her voice low and almost absent, the bulk of her attention clearly elsewhere.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You told me to make you take it,” Yuuji clarifies, her eyes briefly flitting to Satoru’s face before sliding back down to her cunt—and the obscene red–black mass pushing against it.

“That’s not what I said,” Satoru protests, and it’s not untrue—but Yuuji’s claim isn’t untrue either.

It doesn’t matter anyway because Yuuji shows no intentions of stopping, and even when she stops trying to break Satoru’s cunt open on the thickest part of the toy, Satoru knows what’s coming, knows it’s only a matter of time—

The savage thrust that follows still makes her cry out, even as her pussy grows impossibly wetter around the wave of pain.

Yuuji does it again, pulling almost all the way out before slamming her hips forward, impaling Satoru on that several inches of meanly ridged fake flesh, and the mass in the middle strain against her hole for a single, searing instant before Yuuji pulls back, the relief a short-lived illusion that’s shattered mercilessly by another faster, rougher thrust.

Satoru swears and claws her hands down Yuuji’s front, till she finds slightly softer flesh amidst all the muscle. Yuuji makes a shocked little noise when Satoru cups her tits, her eyes flying up. Satoru squeezes, her fingers sinking right past the thin layer of fat there to dig into even more muscle. Yuuji’s nipples are tight little buds against her palm, and when Satoru drags her skin against them, Yuuji bites her lip and makes a spirited attempt at prying Satoru’s tits right off her chest.

And Satoru doesn’t know whether it’s meant as reward or punishment, but she pays for her new handful with a howling hurt between her legs as Yuuji slams that bulbous mass into her cunt.

[luvsturniolo]

hi!! i rlly love ur writing and i wanted to ask if i could request something where readers reputation is ruined by a false rumor which leads reader to thinking they aren’t loveable but chris doesn’t think that cause he’s in love with her?

basically the trope “one believes they’re hard to love and someone who loves them like it’s breathing”.

ー ★ !! unloveable

pairing : chris sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis : after some bad rumors are past around social media, you begin to overthink about whether or not you’re even loveable

a/n : ok but why this is request so fucking adorable ???? like the trope u put at the end makes me want to put my blood, sweat, and tears into this. UGHHHHH no matter who it's written, i'm gonna be 100% convinced it's not good enough because i love this prompt so insanely much

wc : 3.7k

you have been friends with the triplets for a few years now, and you all agreed to keep your face off of social media. it started when you jokingly voiced that you were a bit scared to be judged by the entire world. the triplets — mainly chris — took this seriously, though. they know how difficult it can be to have millions of eyes glued to you at all times. due to their awareness, nick suggested that you stayed off of their platforms to avoid any backlash that you're not ready for.

to be honest, at first you were a bit skeptical of his idea. i mean, you'd never had a ton of random people watching you like they always do. it seems easy enough, though. just make sure to keep your privacy hidden and don't do anything bad on camera. despite your questions, you agreed with nick's proposal. plus, the triplets are the experts here ; not you.

it's been three years since you guys came to this agreement. and it's been working out pretty well, frankly. nobody knows that you're friends with the triplets at all. nobody even has had the thought cross their mind. you're a random chick with a few hundred followers and they're famous youtubers with millions. no sane person would make that connection.

a year and a half ago, you and chris started dating. your relationship is the healthiest you've ever been in. he's caring, he listens when you talk, he hugs you a lot, he likes to compliment you, he buys 'just because' flowers.

you have had a past of toxic relationships. you told chris about them and he's been trying his hardest to heal the mental scars your exes have left behind. one of your past boyfriends was manipulative, another one was narcissistic, another was a proud cheater, and the last wasn't even present in your life.

"hey," you whisper into the darkness before you.

you're currently at the triplets' house, staying the night. nick texted you and asked if you wanted to have a sleepover — which you happily agreed to. you'd been watching a movie with nick in his room for the past hour or two, but he fell asleep a few minutes ago. you were on your way to sneak into chris's room when you heard someone rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.

overtaken by curiosity, you tip-toed down the hall to see who it was. you poked your head around the corner to make sure it wasn't an intruder. your nerves instantly calmed down at the sight of your boyfriend, hungrily searching for a midnight snack.

"hey," he answers, turning around to face you as you stand in the doorway, "why are you still up? it's late."

"i could ask you the same thing." you tell him with a light chuckle shaking your chest. you then walk into the kitchen and over to where chris stands in front of the pantry. he smiles down at you, causing your stomach to twist. its pretty crazy to think that you still get butterflies from him. most people say that you won't feel giddy forever, but you seem to have proven that theory to be incorrect. it's been nearly two years and you still get flustered when he smiles at you.

you lift your hands into the air before dramatically flopping down onto his chest. your wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shirt. he smells like home, a comforting scent that always makes you relax as it meets your nostrils. chris grins down at you before wrapping his arms around your torso, holding you by the waist lovingly.

"i'm assuming nick fell asleep?" he asks you.

not in the mood to open your mouth, you simply nod in response. he feels your head shift against his chest and he accepts the answer. normally, he teases you for being lazy. but chris loves it when you're sleepy like this. he loves seeing you all delirious and disoriented. teasing you would be like taunting a lost puppy — it's not right. morally.

"he always falls asleep when you guys watch movies together." chris says as though you didn't know that. "didn't he promise to stay awake this time? i thought you guys were planning to pull and all-nighter."

"that didn't happen." you say. your voice comes out muffled from his shirt presses to your face. "he pinky promised to stay awake, but fell asleep thirty minutes into the film we were watching. i stayed up and finished it, though."

"you finished it before or after you came to find me?" chris asks with a laugh. you just roll your eyes as a smile grazes your lips. he can feel the way your mouth pulls upward against his skin. knowing that you're smiling and he can't see it kinda pisses him off. your smile is his favorite thing in the whole world and he's missing it? that's completely unacceptable.

you yawn, blinking a few times to keep yourself from succumbing to slumber. chris notices your fatigue and asks if you're ready for bed. "yes, please!" you respond eagerly, excited to lay down with him and go to sleep in his arms. chris laughs at your excitement, honestly finding it adorable that you're so impatient to sleep.

the two of you walk back to his room together and you grin at the sight of his bed. you rush ahead of him and flop down onto the mattress. your face is pointed up at the ceiling as chris plops down next to you, looking at the ceiling as well.

"is this your equivalent to star gazing?" he asks you, knowing how obsessed you are with the thought of looking at stars together. it's something you've always begged him to do with you. but chris has refused. not because he doesn't want to, but because he wants to do it right. you're looking forward to doing this so bad that he refuses to settle for anything less than the absolute best.

he thinks the stars aren't bright enough in the city. he wants to bring you out to a field and look at them. but you still complain about it constantly — unaware of his little plan.

"yeah," you say with a groan, "since my boyfriend won't look at stars with me, i have to look at your popcorn ceiling instead. my standards have been lowered for you by a lot, i hope you know!"

chris laughs, leaning over to place a kiss on your forehead. he stays hovering over you before he whispers "soon, baby." against your skin. the feeling of his lips grazing your head tickles, making you giggle a little. chris's grin widens at the sound. he sits up and watches your giggles fade away, enjoying the bliss of seeing you smile like this.

"what?" you ask with a laugh, noticing the way your boyfriend is staring at you shamelessly.

"nothing." he replies with a shrug. "you're just so beautiful, i can't help but stare."

you look at him with nothing but admiration behind your gaze. it's truly surreal how far you've come in such a little amount of time. just a few years ago, you were in a toxic relationship with a guy who cheated on you with a different girl each night. and whenever you would confront him about it, he would turn it into an argument — which he would win every time. but now? now you're with chris. who is the literal epitome of perfection. you genuinely want to spend the rest of your life with him. nothing else matters but you two.

you and chris end the night in each other's arms. he holds your body against his side, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

the both of you find yourselves falling into an easy, dreamless slumber. this is your favorite place in the world — his arms. no matter what's wrong in your life, the feeling of security always patches every issue. regardless of how messy.

after a few hours of bliss, you jump awake at the sound of chris's bedroom door slamming open. the back of the door hits his wall, the sound of impact waking up chris as well. you feel his shift next to you, his arms still wrapped around your waist. you groan, not wanting to open your eyes.

suddenly, you hear chris gasp. then he pulls the blanket over your face, holding you against his chest protectively. of course, your mind jumps to the worst conclusion — someone broke in and you're all gonna die! you find out that this wasn't this case, though, when you hear chris's voice begin to scold his brother.

"nicolas!" chris shouts. the anger in his voice tells you that this is serious and you should stay out of it. "what the actual fuck are you thinking!?"

"i didn't know you guys were cuddling!" nick tries to defend himself. "if i'd known, i wouldn't have come in! you know i respect your decision to keep y/n hidden! why the hell would i ever do this on purpose!?"

"well where else would she be sleeping if she wasn't with you!?" chris argues back.

slowly, you peak your head out from under the blanket before cautiously asking, "what happened?"

"nick thought it'd be clever to start a live stream at eleven in the fucking morning! then, he had the bright idea to come in here and surprise us!" chris explains, still very very pissed off. "and of course he didn't think to knock like a normal person. he instead took it upon himself to walk right on in and record us!"

"i thought it was just chris!" nick says, stuffing his phone in his pocket now that he's ended the live. "i don't even know if anyone saw her. maybe they missed it and we can just say that it was matt?"

"why the fuck would i be snuggling matt?"

you laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "chris, lets be real. you cuddle your brother more than your girlfriend."

"i love you," chris says softly, "but it's now is not the time for jokes. this could be a huge fucking problem."

"okay, i'm sorry." you're quick to apologize, stretching up to press a kiss to his cheek before gently whispering, "i love you too." against skin.

you notice nick slowly back out of chris's room, not wanting to be around if chris decides to get angry again. you glance up at your boyfriend only to see that he's already staring at nick's departing form. chris is obviously still angry, but he doesn't seem to care enough to argue with his brother again. so he lets nick leave without giving him a hard time.

once nick is completely out of the room, you hear chris sigh. like it's a pained, saddened sigh that makes you want to cry for him. you look up to meet his worried eyes already glancing down at you.

"hey," you whisper, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him better. "it'll be okay. we'll work it out like we always do." chris smiles at this before leaning down to press a slow, gentle kiss to your lips. you kiss him back before giggling and grimacing away from it. "i have horrid morning breath. let me brush my teeth before you kiss me."

you begin to move around toward the edge of the bed, aiming to leave and brush your teeth so you can start the day. before you can even make it to the side of the mattress, you feel chris's arms wrap around your torso and pull your body backward against his chest.

"i don't care about your breath," he tells you, "i just want you to stay with me a while longer. brush your teeth later."

you chuckle, "that's so nasty."

"pleeeease," he begs, tightening his grip around you, pulling your body firmly against his own. "stay with me, baby."

chris know how you feel about pet names. you hate them. they make you cringe. but when he whispers it against the back of your neck and you feel his breath against the hairs of your skin, you can't help the butterflies that swarm your stomach. you instantly give in and twist around to hug him.

"okay. i'll stay." you inform him, returning to the position you guys were in while sleeping. you shut your eyes before continuing. "but don't ever call me baby again."

"why not?" chris asks, clearly upset. "i could tell you liked it by the way you gave in so quickly. why can't i call you a nickname every once in a while. i think they're cute."

you groan, "i'm sleepy. let's talk about this later."

chris agrees and you both fall back asleep, enjoying the comfort of being in each other's arms. you know that no matter what happens with the media seeing your face, you'll always have chris by your side. nothing else is important as long as he is next to you.

the next time you wake up, it's bright outside.

you're no longer in chris's arms with him spooning you. you're now laying diagonally across the bed with your head in his lap as he scrolls through his phone. you blink a few times to let your eyes focus to the light of the room.

"mornin' baby." he says, quickly shutting off his phone and hiding it under his leg.

the action of him hiding his phone is enough to distract you from the use of the pet name. you raise a brow at his behavior, growing a bit concerned. you trust chris more than anything, but considering your history with cheaters, you can't help the annoyance that resides in your gut.

"what were you looking at, hm?" you ask him, trying not to be rude or anything. you want to stay calm with him because it's probably nothing.

"nothing, babe."

again, you ignore the nickname and focus on his suspicious demeanor. you thin your eyes at him, trying to read his body language. but it's difficult. he doesn't seem like he was texting some random chick, but why else would he hide his phone from you? you guys always share everything because he knows how you can get with this sort of thing.

curiosity overtaking your mind, you reach over and snatch his phone out from under his leg. chris opens his mouth to argue, but doesn't do anything to stop you from opening it and going to his recently opened app.

he was on tiktok, scrolling through the comments of some random fan page. you shoot chris a weird look before reading a few of them, your heart dropping to your ass from a mix of embarrassment and shame.

"did y'all see nick's live this morning?"

"who tf was that girl w chris? lmao she's not even pretty 💀"

"i found the chick's insta and she's apparently been in some rly shitty relationships. i mean lets be real. chris has never seriously dated anyone but this girl has been cheated on, manipulated, and abused? there's a clear denominator here. she's def done smth to cause that (for attention i'm guessing) "

"guys chris won't stay w her for long anyway after he finds out ab her ugly history!"

you read through the comments with an expression of pure disgust. how the fuck are these people going to sit here and talk bad about you when you've never even shown your face on the triplets channel? it's completely unfair.

you look at chris, but he's looking away. you wonder why he hasn't defended you on this. also, he was reading these people's opinions with a straight face. you begin to worry if he believes what they're saying. you glance back down at his screen, reading the third comment over and over.

there's a clear denominator here they had said. i mean, they're not necessarily wrong about that. you've been in bad relationships whereas chris has never dated anyone for a long period of time. in this light, of course you look like the bad guy. you can't technically blame their fans for judging you. you're easy to judge.

tears begin to prick your eye and you hand chris back his phone before wordlessly standing up from the bed and leaving his room. not once did he try to stop you or ask you to stay with him. you walk down the triplets' hallway and enter the bathroom, locking the door behind you and sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

you hold your face in your hands and try your hardest not to start crying over a bunch of teenagers talking shit on your name. but you can't help the intense weight on your chest and the lump in your throat.

to be honest, you don't give a shit about their insults. what you care about is the fact that they're right. you don't deserve someone like chris. he's so sweet and kind and understanding while you're irritable and skeptical of every little thing he does. you've done nothing to earn someone like him. maybe you have only ever been in toxic situations because that's what you deserve.

before you can stop them, tears begin to pour from your eyes. your cheeks become soaked with your pain. your entire body trembles as you sob into your hands, making it harder and harder to breathe correctly.

you love chris. you love him more than anything. you want to share the rest of your life with him. but you don't want to make him settle for less — the less in this case being your relationship. he deserves someone better. someone who won't snatch his phone from him when he's only trying to protect you from pain. someone who will let him call you pentanes because he loves them. someone who will be better. someone who's not you.

suddenly, you hear a knock at the door.

already knowing who it is, you tell chris to go away. your voice comes out shaky and hoarse, making it incredibly easy to know you'd been crying. the tone practically screams at him, saying that you're upset over something he tried to save you from in the first place.

"will you please let me in, baby?" chris asks. his voice is soft and gentle. you're suddenly craving the feeling of being in his arms. the feeling of being loved. the feeling of having him comfort you.

the greedy emotions you feel paired with the nickname makes it impossible to not open the door for him. you shuffle over to the door and let him in. you sit back down on the toilet seat, keeping your head downcast the whole time as to not see his face or show your tears.

you stare at the floor, watching his feet pad across the tiled floor before he stops in front of you. he drops to his knees so his face is in line with yours. you quickly turn away and stare at the shower curtain, letting your hair to cover your puffy eyes.

chris sighs before grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. he lifts his other hand to your hair, tucking it behind your ears so he can admire every inch of your beauty with no veil to cover the rawness of it. he lets out a shaky exhale, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. all the while, you keep your eyes pinned to his face. you watch every single movement he makes, knowing that you don't deserve any of the kindness he's offering you.

knowing that this relationship will not last forever, you begin to cry again. you lean forward and rest your forehead against chris's shoulder, allowing tears to pool from your eyes as he rubs a hand up and down your back.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" he asks with his voice in a whisper. "i wanna know what you're thinking so i can tell you how irrational it is."

you laugh at him, but it just causes you to let out a choked sob. his humor is your favorite part about him. the fact that chris can make you laugh in any given situation is what you adore most. hearing him do it while you're thinking of how to break the news that you're leaving him so he can find someone better? this is gut wrenching.

"i love you." you tell him. "so, so fucking much."

"i love you too." he replies easily, not thinking anything of the fact that you're telling him this right now. but when you continue, chris begins to put the pieces together and he starts vigorously shaking his head in refusal.

"these past two years have been the best of my whole life," you tell him with a wavering voice. "but you deserve better. you deserve the world. and i can't offer that to you, chris."

"i don't want the fucking world." he says, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you to be in front of him to look you in the eyes. "i want you and only you."

"but-"

"no." he interrupts. "i don't give a single fuck what anyone else thinks. and i'm sorry, but i don't even really care what you think right now. because you're all wrong. i belong with you and i don't want anyone else even if i was paid a million dollars."

you stare at him with wide eyes, your dried tears still adorning your skin. the would could be ending outside, and you would stay in this bathroom and continue to stare at chris. his eyes are so gorgeously blue that you find yourself getting lost in them.

if you guys get married and live the rest of your lives together, your bodies will change. your skin will wrinkle. your hair will grey. your lips will thin. your hands will shake. your back will hunch. nothing about your appearance is permanent. nothing except the eyes. the shade, the hue, and the iris will all stay the same until they close for the last time. and you can't wait to look into chris's eyes for the rest of your life.

"i think you would be crazy to reject a million dollars for me." you tell him with a little giggle, wiping at your cheeks to rid them of the leftover tears.

chris's heart flutters at the sight of your smile, "there she is."

tags : @kasqnxx @lvrsparadise @prettysturniolo @strniolo @urmyslxt @cupidsturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @thetriplets3 @sturn1olo-ffics @uhnanix @deadxrx @kitaysworld @lovelysturniolo @wilmalovegood @ladylokilaufeyson5 @sturniolopepsi @strnilolo @knowingnothingnoel @its-jennarose @lea0518 @slaysturniolo @sturnlover @tcvazq