#-first step of editing it MORE likely than not tbh

[strictly-confectional]

bc my bg is a bitch to actually describe heres partial sceenshot

[the-bluestreak-cat]

I think it’s the seasonal darkness but this dental stuff feels like the last straw

[elikajinnie]

Tokyo Drift - N.R

P: Racer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Teasing, Possessive Behaviour, Fluff

Synopsis: In the heart of the underground racing scene, you are a passionate starter, known for your ability to ignite excitement before each race. When you first meet Nishimura Ni-ki, a legendary driver, you are initially intimidated by him. However during the races you capture his attention.

a/n: knowing you have the attention of someone like Ni-ki is exciting tbh.. ANYWAYS i am a HUGE lover of the fast & furious franchise so this was quite overdue!! (inspired by this edit : TikTok - Make Your Day)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"I don't get why I have to be there for every race you do," you said, glancing over at your friend, who was gripping the steering wheel with one hand, the other casually shifting gears.

"Because you're the starter," he replied, his tone like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"There are other starters," you shot back. "I'm not the only one."

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he asked, "Do you have anything better to do than attend these races?"

You opened your mouth, ready with a rebuttal, but nothing came. After a beat, you closed your mouth and sank back into the seat.

"Yeah, exactly," he said, smug. "Plus, it's good for you to get out and meet new people."

The music from the radio blared a little louder as he cranked up the volume. You sighed, fiddling with the edge of your shirt.

"And it gives you more insight for the big race next month," he added, his eyes focused on the road ahead as the car sped past traffic.

"But that's weeks away," you mumbled under your breath, shifting your gaze out the window, watching the blur of lights and cars fly by.

"You know you’ll thank me later," he said, his voice laced with confidence as he pushed the car to go even faster.

As your friend parked the car, the tires crunching on the gravel beneath, you stepped out and took in the scene. Despite the late hour, the area was alive, glowing under huge industrial lights that bathed the lot in an artificial brightness. Cars were everywhere, a chaotic lineup of souped-up rides with booming music, others showing off their horsepower, engines roaring as they drifted in tight circles.

"Did you want to be a starter today?" your friend asked, leaning casually against the roof of his car.

You shrugged. "Sure," you replied, though your energy didn’t quite match the excitement of the crowd.

Walking away, you strolled past rows of cars, admiring their sleek designs and custom paint jobs, the polished metal gleaming under the lights. You ignored the catcalls from a group of guys leaning against a low-rider, keeping your focus ahead. Tonight, you weren’t dressed to impress—just something simple, thrown on after your friend dragged you out of the house. But your bandana was tied around your wrist, the familiar black-and-white checkered pattern standing out. It was your signature, the same one you used to signal the start of every race.

The energy around you was electric, the thrum of engines mixing with the bass-heavy beats from the cars parked nearby. You wound your way through the crowd, feeling a strange mix of familiarity and detachment. You weren’t really in the mood to be here, but this scene always had a way of pulling you in.

After a bit of wandering, you spotted some familiar faces—people you knew from past races, ones who recognized you right away. They greeted you with nods and half-smiles, pulling you into their small circle.

After hanging around for a bit, chatting with familiar faces, you eventually found yourself drifting toward the starting line. As the races kicked off, your friend waved you over, a sly grin on his face. "Looks like they need a starter," he said, tossing a glance toward the eager crowd of racers lining up. You could already feel the pull, the electricity in the air calling to you.

With a nod, you stepped forward, positioning yourself between two cars. The engines growled, their headlights casting long shadows across the pavement, illuminating your figure as you stood in the middle. Both drivers stared ahead, hands gripping the wheels, laser-focused on the moment. And then there was you—at the center of it all. The one who would signal the start.

You raised your bandana high, feeling the fabric tight around your wrist. The engines revved in response, their deep rumbling vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. All eyes were on you now. The weight of the anticipation, the intensity in the air—it made your pulse quicken.

With a swift motion, you dropped your hand, and like a spark igniting gasoline, the cars exploded forward, tires screeching and smoke billowing up behind them. The sound of engines roaring filled your ears as they sped past, kicking up dust and gravel in their wake. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, the rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you watched them disappear into the distance.

The thrill was undeniable. That moment when everything paused, when the world held its breath before you dropped the flag—it was exhilarating, addictive even.

Race after race, you found yourself sinking into the rhythm of it. Standing between two roaring machines, feeling the raw power they held, and knowing you controlled the moment they unleashed it. The vibrations from the engines, the cheers from the crowd, the smell of burning rubber—it all swirled around you, making you forget about the lazy mood you'd been in earlier.

After another race, you dusted your hands off, feeling the faint tremble of excitement still lingering in your fingers. You were enjoying yourself now, more than you’d expected. This was your element—the rush, the control, the fleeting moments where everything slowed before it erupted into chaos.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You stood with a group of women, chatting casually and enjoying the scene, when a familiar lime-green Mazda rolled up to the line. The car was loud and flashy, just like its driver. You rolled your eyes the moment you saw Haruto step out, all swagger and energy, hyping the crowd as if they hadn’t seen him race a hundred times before. He soaked in the attention, pointing fingers at people he knew, already talking trash with the other drivers.

“Here we go…” you muttered under your breath, more annoyed than amused. Haruto was good—everyone knew that—but his ego was twice the size of his talent.

Just as you were about to turn away, a sleek silver Mitsubishi pulled up to the starting line next. It immediately caught your attention. You whistled low under your breath, admiring the car’s perfect blend of black and white racing stripes that seemed to melt into the silver body like it was designed for this very moment.

“No way…” you heard Ryujin, one of your friends, murmur next to you, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

You turned your head to her, eyebrows raised. “What?”

She didn’t take her eyes off the car as she spoke. “He’s racing against Nishimura.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the name. “Wait… Nishimura?” You whipped your head back to the Mitsubishi, squinting to get a better look at the driver behind the tinted windows.

Everyone in the racing world knew who Nishimura was. His rise was meteoric. A few years ago, he’d been a no-name rookie, just another driver trying to make his mark. But that quickly changed. He became a legend on the underground circuit, with a reputation for being nearly unbeatable. But the man himself? You had never seen him in person. You'd only heard the stories—how he drove like he was born for the track, a natural who didn’t play by anyone’s rules.

Now, standing there, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of curiosity and awe. The Mitsubishi was sleek, powerful, but that wasn’t what had your attention. It was the knowledge that the man behind the wheel was one of the best to ever do it, and tonight, you’d finally get to see him race.

The crowd around you buzzed with energy, whispering Nishimura’s name like it carried some kind of magic. You felt the tension rising, a sense that something bigger than the usual street race was about to happen.

You glanced at Ryujin. “This is going to be over quick, isn’t it?”

She nodded, her eyes glued to the track. “You have no idea.”

As Haruto climbed back into his car, showboating as always, you suddenly felt hands on your back as Karina playfully shoved you forward. "Go on!" she giggled, clearly enjoying herself.

You shot her a wide-eyed look of disbelief. "Don’t push!" you huffed, but your feet had already carried you forward, right into the middle of the two revving cars. The roar of the engines surrounded you, vibrating through the air and into your bones. Standing there, between Haruto’s lime-green Mazda and the sleek Mitsubishi, you felt a surge of energy.

With a stern look, you raised your arms to get their attention. "Now I want a clean race! From both of you," you shouted, pointing between them. You narrowed your eyes specifically at Haruto, who was known to pull sneaky tricks when he got desperate. "No tricks, or jukes."

Haruto revved his engine in response, flashing his usual cocky grin, though his eyes darted toward the Mitsubishi, and for the first time, you noticed a hint of stiffness in his posture. He knew this wasn’t going to be an easy win.

"Ready?" you asked, locking eyes with him. He revved up again, the Mazda growling under the pressure, but his attention was split, clearly sizing up the competition.

Then you turned toward the Mitsubishi. "Ready?" you called, and the car’s engine roared to life, a smooth, confident sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t see through the dark windows, but you felt something different in the air—a tension you couldn’t quite place.

With a smirk, you raised your bandana high. "Go!" you shouted, waving it down. Both cars shot off the line like bullets, the roar of their engines drowning out the cheers from the crowd as they sped past you. Dust kicked up in their wake, but you stood your ground, watching as they tore through the track, navigating the turns with precision and speed.

As you turned to walk back to your spot, you didn’t know the effect you’d had.

Inside the Mitsubishi, Nishimura had almost missed his cue. The moment you’d stepped out onto the track, his focus had shifted completely. The fierce concentration he was known for had wavered. For a split second, he’d forgotten where he was, what he was doing, and what was at stake. All he could see was you, standing between the two cars, commanding the moment with confidence and authority. It was enough to throw him off—a rarity for someone like him.

It wasn’t until he saw you pointing directly at him that he snapped out of it, realizing he hadn’t revved his engine. He quickly corrected himself, the roar of the car snapping back into focus as he gunned the accelerator and sped off.

But even as he tore through the turns, effortlessly drifting and leaving Haruto in the dust, his mind kept slipping back to you. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing there,completely unbothered by the chaos around you.

By the time the race was nearing its end, Nishimura was far ahead, his car slicing through the night with ease. Haruto didn’t stand a chance, but the victory was almost secondary. Nishimura’s pulse raced with a different kind of adrenaline, one that had nothing to do with the thrill of the race.

His car roared as it crossed the finish line, its sleek frame gliding effortlessly under the neon lights. The crowd erupted into cheers, but his mind wasn’t on the race. As he pulled his car to a stop and cut the engine, the world seemed to quiet down, everything slowing for just a moment.

He exhaled, unfastened his seatbelt, and pushed open the door. Stepping out of the car, his lean frame emerged, his hair slightly tousled from the speed and wind. The crowd surged toward him, hyping up his victory, chanting his name, but Nishimura’s focus was elsewhere.

His eyes scanned the crowd, searching. It wasn’t the win that made his pulse race—it was you.

When his gaze landed on you, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you. His eyes held yours, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place, but it made your heart race.

Just as you were about to process the moment, the spell was broken by a familiar voice. "You ready to go home?" Your friend appeared beside you, jingling his keys with a grin. You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, and turned to face him.

You blinked, shaking off the lingering intensity of Nishimura's stare, "Yeah," you nodded softly, a bit dazed, before following him through the crowd. As you walked away, you couldn’t resist glancing back toward where Nishimura had been standing, but to your surprise, he was gone. Just like that.

Huh... where did he go? you thought, scanning the crowd for a sign of him, but he had seemingly vanished without a trace. A strange feeling settled in your chest—curiosity mixed with something else. You shook it off and followed your friend through the throng of people, the night air cooling as the adrenaline from the race began to fade.

When you reached your friend’s car, you leaned against the door and raised an eyebrow. "Did you even race Lucas?"

He laughed, unlocking the car and shaking his head. "Nah, didn’t bother. But I had fun." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, and you groaned, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Ugh, I did not wanna know that," you said, scrunching up your nose in mock disgust as you slid into the passenger seat.

He chuckled and turned on the engine, the car rumbling to life as he drove off into the quiet night. The ride home was comfortable, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows through the windows.

When your friend finally pulled up in front of your house, you exchanged a quick goodbye. He waved as you got out, and you offered a small smile in return, still distracted. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, the events of the night catching up to you. A quick shower helped wash away the lingering dust and grime from the track, but it did little to clear your mind.

Finally, you collapsed into bed, your body sinking into the mattress as exhaustion pulled at you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You had been going to more races lately, every weekend like clockwork. The underground scene was alive and buzzing, with each race becoming more intense than the last. But there was one thing you noticed—a pattern that had begun to emerge. Every time you were the starter, Nishimura was there, lined up at the start with his sleek Mitsubishi, ready to race.

At first, you chalked it up to coincidence. But as the weeks passed, it became clear that it wasn’t. No matter where the races were hosted, no matter how different the crowd, Nishimura would be there. And without fail, he’d win. His driving was as smooth and precise as ever, but something about the way his eyes would linger on you just before he sped off—it left you with a strange fluttering feeling you couldn't shake.

You were about to head out when suddenly, the unmistakable wail of sirens cut through the night. In an instant, the entire atmosphere shifted. Chaos erupted as people scrambled to their cars, trying to get out before the cops could close in.

Panic surged through you as you scanned the crowd, looking for any of your friends, but the mess of people made it impossible. Cars were speeding off in every direction, headlights blurring together, and the sound of screeching tires filled the air. Your heart raced, and just as you started to feel the panic rise, a familiar sleek silver car slid to a stop beside you. The window rolled down, and there he was.

"Get in!" Nishimura shouted, his voice urgent but calm.

You didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, you jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you. Before you could even get settled, Nishimura hit the gas, and the car shot forward, weaving effortlessly between the other vehicles that were fleeing the scene. You gripped the handlebar above the door, holding on as the car sped through the narrow streets, sliding past cop cars with a precision that left you breathless.

The speedometer arrow kept climbing, the numbers blurring as the engine roared beneath you. You glanced at Nishimura, his hands steady on the wheel, his expression focused yet completely at ease. He was in his element, and you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he handled the car, as if it was an extension of him.

After a few intense minutes, the sirens grew distant, and it became clear that the cops had lost track of you. Nishimura slowed down, the adrenaline still buzzing between the two of you, but the immediate danger had passed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relaxing your grip on the handlebar.

Taking a moment to steady yourself, your attention drifted to the interior of the car. Everything was sleek, black, and incredibly well-maintained. The leather seats were soft beneath you, and a soft red glow emanated from under your feet, casting a warm, almost intimate light. You couldn’t help but run your fingers over the dash, admiring the attention to detail.

"You like it?" Nishimura’s voice broke the silence, casual yet with a hint of curiosity.

"I do," you said, glancing over at him. He was still looking at the road, but there was something about the way he asked that told you he was aware of more than just the street ahead of him. His attention was on you, even if his eyes weren’t.

"It fits the owner," you added with a small smile.

He let out a quiet laugh, a sound that was rare but warm. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little softer now, as if the tension from earlier had melted away.

"You don’t usually hang around after races," you said, turning your attention back to him.

He glanced at you briefly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I guess tonight was different."

You tilted your head slightly, curious. "Different how?"

His smile deepened, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted gears smoothly, the car responding instantly to his touch. "I think you know," he finally said, his tone leaving little doubt that his reason for sticking around had something to do with you.

That fluttering feeling in your chest returned, but this time, it wasn’t from the rush of the race or the chase—it was from him.

As the car cruised smoothly through the quiet streets, the earlier intensity of the night had faded into a calm, almost comfortable atmosphere between you and Nishimura. You found yourself feeling surprisingly at ease around him, despite the fact that, up until now, your interactions had been mostly limited to stolen glances and brief conversations.

"You know," he said, glancing over at you as you watched the city pass by through the window, "you don’t have to keep calling me Nishimura."

You blinked and turned to face him. "Oh, right. Is that too formal or something?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "A bit. My friends call me Ni-ki."

"Ni-ki?" you repeated, testing the name on your lips.

"Yeah. I’d rather you call me that." His voice was casual, but there was something in the way he said it that felt personal, like he was inviting you into a closer circle.

"Alright, Ni-ki it is," you said, leaning back in your seat as you relaxed. "So, what do people usually call you if they’re not your friends?"

He smirked, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Depends. Usually something like ‘dangerous,’ or ‘the guy you don’t want to race .’" He glanced at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "But I’d like to think I’m pretty easygoing."

"Right," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You seem so easygoing with the way you handle a car at 100 miles per hour."

He laughed at that, the sound low and genuine, and for a moment, it felt like you were just two people hanging out—nothing more, nothing less. The conversation drifted from racing to random topics, a natural flow of words that felt effortless. He told you about the first time he ever drove a car, how he’d been obsessed with it ever since, and you shared a few stories of your own, mostly about how you had gotten into starting races.

At some point, you noticed the city lights getting closer and realized you were nearing your neighborhood. Ni-ki glanced at you, sensing it was time to ask the inevitable question.

"Where do you want me to drop you off?"

You gave him your address, and he nodded, making a smooth turn onto a quieter street as the roar of the engine softened. The car slowed to a stop outside your building, the night air still and quiet now that the chaos had long since passed. For a brief moment, neither of you said anything.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally said, unbuckling your seatbelt but not quite ready to leave just yet.

"No problem," he replied, his voice softer now, more personal in the quiet space between you.

You lingered for a second, unsure of what to say. Something about the night felt different—like it had marked the beginning of something, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Ni-ki seemed to sense it too, the way he looked at you, his eyes lingering just a little longer.

"Take care," you said, finally breaking the silence.

"You too," he replied, his gaze never wavering. "See you around?"

"Yeah," you nodded, feeling a strange sense of anticipation that you couldn’t explain. "Definitely."

With one last glance, you stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you. As you walked toward your building, you couldn’t resist turning back for a quick look. Ni-ki was still there, watching you, and when your eyes met again, he flashed you a small, knowing smile before revving the engine.

Without another word, he sped off, the silver car disappearing into the night with a smooth, powerful roar.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The past month had been a whirlwind. Your schedule had spiraled into chaos, with personal commitments swallowing up all your free time. You hadn’t even thought about the races, let alone attended one. But finally, a weekend had opened up, and you felt a rush of excitement at the thought of getting back to the underground scene.

Your friend picked you up, their car bumping with bass as they pulled up to your place. You jumped in, the familiar thrill of anticipation bubbling up inside you. The ride was filled with chatter about the races you’d missed, and as you drove closer to the city, you could feel the energy in the air building.

When you arrived at the race area, it was alive with activity, the night sky illuminated by the glow of headlights and streetlights. Cars were parked everywhere, their owners mingling and showcasing their machines. The sound of engines revving and laughter filled the air, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

As you wandered through the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds, you spotted Haruto leaning against a sleek, newly polished car. When he caught your eye, he grinned and pushed off the vehicle to approach you.

"How do you like the new car?" he called out as he got closer, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

You stopped, admiring the vehicle as he gestured toward it. "When did you get this one?" you asked, genuinely curious about the flashy machine that had a glossy finish reflecting the neon lights around it.

"Got it last week," he replied proudly, running a hand over the hood. "Pretty ain’t she?"

"She?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing him. "You gendered it?"

He shrugged, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "What? It just feels right. She’s got curves, you know?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. "Sure, whatever you say, Romeo."

He laughed, shaking his head as you turned to walk away. "You wait until you see her in action! I’ll show you what she’s made of."

You waved him off, your eyes wandering as you continued to explore the scene. The adrenaline was intoxicating, the atmosphere buzzing with energy. You admired the different cars, from flashy sports models to classic muscle machines.

As you continued to roam the crowd, you felt the excitement in the air, but it was abruptly interrupted by a guy who stepped in front of you. He had an easy smile, but there was something off about the way he was looking at you.

"Hey there! What’s your name?" he asked, leaning slightly closer.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge his intentions. "Not interested," you replied coolly, attempting to sidestep him.

He moved to block your path again, undeterred. "Come on, just a name. How about a number then? We could grab a drink later."

You shook your head firmly. "No thanks, I'm not interested."

His expression shifted, irritation creeping into his smile. "You sure? I could show you a good time," he said, stepping a little too close for comfort.

A sense of unease washed over you as his demeanor changed. "Back off," you warned, crossing your arms. But he didn’t take the hint; instead, he leaned in even closer, trying to assert his presence.

Just then, you felt a familiar presence behind you. A voice cut through the tension, deep and commanding. "She said no. You should listen."

Nishimura appeared, sliding a hand around your waist possessively. The gesture was both comforting and electrifying, and you could feel the shift in the atmosphere. The guy's expression turned from annoyance to fear as he realized who he was dealing with.

The guy hesitated for a moment, looking between the two of you, then backed off, hands raised in defeat. "Whatever, man. She’s not worth it anyway," he muttered before disappearing into the crowd.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning to Ni-ki. "Thanks, but I had it under control," you said, attempting to downplay the situation.

He raised an eyebrow, concern etched across his face. "Didn’t look like it. I hate seeing people act like that."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the intensity of his gaze made you pause. There was something in the way he looked at you that made your heart race.

"I missed you," he said suddenly, his voice dropping to a softer tone. It was as if the words slipped out without him even realizing it.

The admission hung in the air between you, leaving you speechless. You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. You’d been excited to see him again, but hearing him say that made something inside you flutter.

"You… missed me?" you finally managed to stammer, your cheeks flushing slightly.

He looked a little sheepish, his usual confidence momentarily faltering. "Yeah, I mean—well, it’s been a month since I last saw you. Of course, I did," he replied, his tone shifting back to its usual nonchalance, but you could tell he was trying to cover up the slip.

"Right," you said, your mind racing. There was an undeniable connection sparking between you, and the thought of it made your heart race even faster.

The rest of the night unfolded in a whirlwind of adrenaline and excitement as you found yourself gravitating closer to Ni-ki. His presence felt like a shield, and you relished every moment spent by his side. Every time someone glanced your way with interest or a hint of aggression, you could feel his posture stiffen beside you, a silent warning in his gaze that made you feel protected.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

One evening, as you both leaned against his car, the night air buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming races, he turned to you, his expression serious. “I have something to tell you,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with excitement.

You tilted your head, intrigued. “What is it?”

“I got scouted,” he announced, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “They want me to race for them in Japan.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a rush of joy surging through you. “That’s amazing, Ni-ki! You deserve it! This is such a huge opportunity!” You couldn’t help but feel proud of him, your excitement bubbling over.

“Thanks! I’m really excited,” he said, his smile widening. Then, his expression shifted, and he looked at you earnestly. “And I want you to come with me.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, feeling a flutter of nerves and anticipation at the same time.

“I want you to be my starter full-time for all my races,” he clarified, his gaze intense as it locked onto yours. “I can’t imagine doing this without you by my side. You’ve been a huge part of my journey so far, and I want you to continue with me.”

Your heart raced at the thought, excitement and disbelief flooding your mind. “You really want me to come with you?”

“Absolutely. You know how much racing means to me. I need someone I trust out there, and that’s you,” he said, sincerity shining in his eyes.

“I’d love to, Ni-ki!”

His face broke into a wide grin, the kind that lit up his entire demeanor. “Really? You’re on board?”

“I’m absolutely on board! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over.

He stepped closer, his arms opening wide, and without hesitation, you jumped into his embrace.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” he said into your hair, his voice slightly muffled but filled with excitement. You felt his joy resonate through you, and it made your heart swell even more.

“I know! It’s unreal!” You pulled back slightly, your hands resting on his shoulders as you looked up into his eyes, both of you sharing that moment of exhilaration.

Ni-ki chuckled softly, still holding you close. “This is going to be amazing.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “We’re going to crush it together, right? You’ll be my lucky charm out there.”

You laughed, feeling a rush of determination at his words. “Absolutely.”

He grinned, his confidence infectious. “And I’ll make sure we leave them in the dust.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

When you arrived at Ni-ki’s place, you parked your car, and took a moment to admire the neighborhood. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over everything.

Walking toward the open garage door, your gaze drifted to his sleek car sitting in the center, the hood propped open and revealing the beautifully engineered engine underneath. It was like a masterpiece of machinery, glinting under the fluorescent lights.

“Ni-ki?” you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the spacious garage.

Suddenly, Ni-ki rolled out from underneath another car nearby, his face lighting up with a bright smile. “There you are!” he exclaimed, a hint of surprise and delight in his tone. He stood up, wiping his hands with a rag he pulled from his belt, the fabric stained with oil and grease.

You couldn’t help but widen your eyes, taking in the sight of him. He was wearing a pair of dirty overalls over a white tank top, which was now marred with grease and smudges. The way his muscles flexed as he worked on the cars made it hard to focus on anything else. “You work on the cars?” you asked, trying to divert your attention from how good he looked in that moment.

“Yeah, I like to tinker here and there,” he replied casually, picking up a tool from a nearby bench before rolling back under the car. “It’s kind of become a hobby!”

You hummed thoughtfully, walking around the car to get a better view of his progress. The vehicle was clearly totaled, having seen better days after a recent crash. Yet, you could see the way he meticulously worked to fix it up, and admiration swelled within you. “This one looks like it needs a lot of love,” you commented, kneeling down to peek under the car as well.

“It does, but I can fix it,” he said with a mix of confidence and determination. “It just takes time. Plus, I enjoy the challenge.”

“Have you always liked working on cars?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Pretty much. My dad and I used to work on our old cars together when I was a kid,” he said, his voice slightly distant as if reminiscing about those moments. “I guess it stuck with me. It’s therapeutic, you know? Just me and the car, figuring things out.”

You nodded, understanding how those moments could mean so much. “It’s great to have a passion outside of racing. Do you have a dream car you want to work on one day?”

He paused for a moment, considering your question. “Definitely. I’d love to build a classic muscle car from the ground up one day. Something that turns heads and leaves a mark on the road.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, feeling a surge of inspiration at the thought of him chasing another dream. “I’d love to see that happen.”

Ni-ki rolled out from under the car again, this time standing up to face you fully. “You’ll be there to cheer me on, right?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

“Always,” you promised, feeling a warmth spread through you.

He grinned and stepped closer, wiping his hands on his overalls again, though it only spread the grease around more. “Well, since you’re here, you can help me out! I need a second pair of hands to hold the engine cover while I fix this part.”

“Sure! What do I need to do?” you said eagerly.

“Just hold it steady while I tighten these bolts,” he instructed, moving back under the car again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The days leading up to the race in Japan had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure. Ni-ki showed you the sights of Tokyo, from the bustling streets of Shibuya to the tranquil gardens of the Imperial Palace.

As the day of the race approached, however, you noticed a shift in Ni-ki’s demeanor. He became quieter, more introspective, often staring off into space as if lost in his thoughts. You could see the weight of expectations resting heavily on his shoulders.

On the morning of the race, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his expression a mix of determination and anxiety. “Ni-ki,” you said softly, approaching him. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m just nervous, you know? This is a big deal, and I really want to perform well.”

You sat beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his back. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and you’re more than ready. Just remember why you started racing in the first place.”

He nodded, but his gaze remained downcast. You took a deep breath, wanting to instill confidence in him. “You’re going to crush it out there, I know you will. Just focus on driving and trust yourself.”

As you spoke, you could see his tension slowly ease, the fire igniting in his eyes once more. “Thanks for always being here for me,” he said quietly.

Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. “Win for me, okay?” you said with a warm smile, and watched as his gaze hardened with resolve.

“I will,” he promised, the determination in his voice returning. You could see that your words had reignited the spark within him.

As night fell, you found yourselves in the car, cruising through the darkened streets of Tokyo. The city was alive with neon lights reflecting off the sleek surfaces of buildings, casting a colorful glow that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the hum of excitement in the air.

Ni-ki’s hands gripped the steering wheel with a newfound confidence, and as he navigated the winding roads, you could feel the adrenaline building between you. “Are you ready?” he asked, glancing over at you.

“I was born ready!” you replied, trying to keep the mood light, but the thrill of the moment was palpable.

He chuckled, a mischievous grin breaking through his earlier nerves. “That’s what I like to hear.”

As he drove, the anticipation grew heavier. You could almost taste the excitement as you approached the race venue, the sounds of revving engines and cheering crowds growing louder. You felt a surge of pride knowing you’d be right by his side, supporting him through every twist and turn of the race.

“Just remember,” you said, leaning closer as he focused on the road, “no matter what happens out there, you’ve got this."

His expression softened, and he turned to meet your gaze. “Thanks for believing in me. It means everything.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Always, Ni-ki."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You strolled around the venue, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The high-end cars gleamed under the bright lights, each one more stunning than the last. You took your time admiring the sleek designs and intricate details.

Trying to immerse yourself in the culture, you remembered some of the Japanese phrases Ni-ki had taught you during your flight. You approached a group of racers and smiled, offering compliments. While some responded with smiles and nods, others seemed confused, and you quickly realized that your limited vocabulary wasn’t enough to keep the conversations going.

As you wandered, you eventually found yourself standing alone, lost in thought about the upcoming race, when a tall guy approached you with a smirk. He started speaking rapidly in Japanese, gesturing animatedly, but you could only catch bits and pieces.

“Sorry” you said, apologizing. “I don’t understand," you added, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

Instead, his expression darkened, and he leaned closer, his voice becoming more aggressive as he pressed you with questions you couldn’t comprehend. When he reached out and grabbed your wrist, panic surged through you, and you instinctively pulled away. However, his grip was too tight, and the pressure made you wince.

Just then, you heard a familiar voice cut through the commotion. “Hey! Get away from her!” Ni-ki stormed in, eyes blazing with anger as he pulled you behind him, creating a protective barrier.

The guy hesitated, then turned to Ni-ki, their eyes locking as they began to argue back and forth in rapid Japanese. You couldn’t follow their exchange, but the intensity of the situation was palpable. You rubbed your wrist, still feeling the remnants of the man’s grip as you looked from Ni-ki to the guy, who had turned an alarming shade of red, clearly taken aback by Ni-ki`s arrival.

Finally, Ni-ki turned away from the confrontation and guided you toward his car, his grip firm but gentle on your shoulder. “Come on,” he said, urgency in his tone.

“What? What happened?” you asked, bewildered, still trying to process everything.

“I’m racing,” he replied shortly, his eyes focused ahead as he led you toward his Mitsubishi.

“Against who?” you asked, glancing back at the guy, who was now standing there with a scowl, his earlier bravado deflated.

“Against the creep,” Ni-ki answered, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Your heart raced at the thought. “Wait, Ni-ki, you don’t have to do this! It’s not worth it.”

He shot you a determined look, his jaw set. “I know. But he can’t just treat you like that. This isn’t just about racing; it’s about respect.”

You swallowed hard, realizing how serious he was. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, you took a moment to collect yourself, grateful for his protective instincts. “Are you sure you’re okay to race right now?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

He turned to you, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’m fine. I just need to focus. You’ll be right here, right?”

“Of course,” you replied, forcing a smile to reassure him, even though you were still rattled by the encounter.

You took a deep breath, standing between Ni-ki's sleek Mitsubishi and the other guy's car—a flashy, souped-up Honda that glinted under the neon lights. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through you. You could feel the energy in the air, thick with anticipation as both drivers revved their engines, the deep growl echoing around you.

"Are you guys ready?" you called out, trying to maintain your composure as you pointed toward both cars. Ni-ki shot you a confident nod, his eyes locked on the road ahead. The other driver, still wearing a cocky grin, gave you a thumbs-up.

As the cars revved louder, you turned your gaze to a guy standing nearby, holding a walkie-talkie. He was scanning the area, and when he got the go-ahead that the police were nowhere in sight, he shot you a thumbs-up.

Your pulse quickened at the sight, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. You lifted the flag high, your heart pounding in your chest, and with a swift motion, you waved it down. "Go!" you shouted, your voice carrying over the roar of the engines.

Both cars shot off the line, tires screeching as they sped into the dark streets of Tokyo. You watched as they darted away, the headlights illuminating the path ahead like shooting stars against the night sky. The ground trembled beneath your feet from the sheer power of the vehicles, and you could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as the excitement enveloped you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Ni-ki gripped the steering wheel tightly, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and the other driver raced side by side through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. He could feel the intensity radiating from the other car, a flashy Honda that kept trying to tip him off balance.

“Come on, you think you can take me out?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on the road ahead. The guy was aggressive, swerving dangerously close and attempting to nudge him off course. Ni-ki remained focused, expertly maneuvering around the obstacles in his path.

He drifted into a turn, the tires screeching against the asphalt as he counter-steered and weaved through the traffic. Cars honked and swerved, their drivers caught off guard by the reckless speed of the two racers. The other driver tried to play dirty, attempting to crash into Ni-ki's rear, but Ni-ki was prepared for it. He kept his cool, steering away just in time and cutting in front of the guy as they barreled through a narrow alleyway.

“Not today,” he said through gritted teeth, determination fueling every decision he made.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ni-ki noticed a police car trailing behind them, its sirens blaring loudly. His heart dropped as he glanced in the rearview mirror, the flashing lights reflecting the urgency of the situation. “No, no, no,” he repeated, frustration rising within him. He couldn’t let himself get caught—not after everything they had worked for.

The other driver seemed to notice the approaching officer as well, and in a desperate attempt to throw Ni-ki off his game, he swerved dangerously close, trying to shove Niki into the path of the police car. Ni-ki's heart raced as he saw the cop trying to close the gap, the pressure mounting.

With quick reflexes, Ni-ki shifted gears and accelerated, pushing his car to its limits as he turned sharply to avoid a collision. He felt the weight of the Honda trying to force him into a corner, but he countered with another drift, keeping his grip tight on the wheel. The other driver, frustrated and reckless, made a final lunge for Ni-ki's car, but in the process, he miscalculated.

Ni-ki watched as the guy’s car collided with the police vehicle, the impact sending both cars spinning. Metal crunched, and he could hear the screeching of tires against pavement. Ni-ki couldn’t help but glance back, disbelief washing over him as he saw the police car crash into a row of parked cars, sending them crashing into one another like dominoes.

“Holy—” he breathed, shaking his head. The guy had gone too far. He took a moment to process the chaos, his heart still racing, but he knew he couldn’t dwell on it. The adrenaline and excitement of the race was intoxicating, and he had to keep his head in the game.

Ni-ki refocused on the road ahead, determination burning in his chest. He could see the finish line in the distance, the crowd gathering, their cheers a distant roar that urged him forward. With one final surge of speed, he pressed down on the accelerator, feeling the power of the car respond instantly. He was going to win this race—not just for himself, but for you, the one waiting at the finish line.

As he crossed the line, the cheers of the crowd erupted around him, the thrill of victory washing over him like a wave. But even in that moment, he knew he had to keep his cool and stay grounded. After all, he was racing not just against the clock, but against chaos itself.

As Ni-ki crossed the finish line, the exhilaration of victory pulsed through him. He could hardly contain his excitement as he slammed the brakes, his Mitsubishi screeching to a halt. The roar of the crowd enveloped him, a wave of adrenaline and triumph crashing over him like a tidal wave. He hopped out of the car, his heart racing not just from the race but from the sight of you waiting at the finish line, a wide smile on your face.

“Did you see that?” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy as he bounded over to you. He pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment. The thrill of the win felt amplified with you by his side, and he couldn't help but bask in the warmth of your presence.

“I did! You were amazing!” you replied, laughter bubbling from your lips as he set you down.

“Just doing what I do best,” he said with a playful smirk, rubbing the back of his neck in a show of modesty. But the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. He took a moment to soak it all in, the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears, but it was your smile that made his heart swell with happiness.

As the crowd surged around him, eager to congratulate the victor, Ni-ki turned back to you, his expression softening. “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “You were my good luck charm.”

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, and you felt a surge of pride wash over you. “I’ll be your good luck charm any day,” you teased, poking him playfully in the side.

The celebration continued around you, people shouting his name and clapping him on the back. Ni-ki basked in the glory, but even as the crowd cheered and celebrated, his eyes kept darting back to you, finding comfort in your presence.

From then, every race he entered seemed to follow the same pattern. Each time, he emerged victorious, his confidence soaring with each win.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Laying on the hood of Ni-ki's car, the warmth of the metal beneath you was comforting as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city. The vibrant hues of orange and pink painted the sky, creating a perfect backdrop for the moment you both shared. You leaned into Ni-ki, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your side, and you couldn't help but smile as you glanced up at him.

Ni-ki's gaze was fixed on you, his eyes shimmering with a mix of happiness and something deeper—something that made your heart flutter.

As you exchanged shy glances, the atmosphere shifted. The distance between you disappeared, and suddenly, you found yourselves inching closer together. Your heart raced, a mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through you as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low and tender.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

In that moment, everything felt perfect. You both leaned in, your lips meeting in a gentle kiss. It started soft and sweet, but as Ni-ki pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, it became something more. His hands slid around your waist, anchoring you to him as you melted against him, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

You could feel his heart racing against your chest, mirroring the excitement and passion that filled the air around you.

As the kiss grew more passionate, you felt Ni-ki’s fingers thread through your hair, pulling you even closer. You sighed against him, savoring the moment, the thrill of it all—this incredible connection that had blossomed between you.

Finally, you pulled away, both of you breathless and smiling like fools, your foreheads resting against each other.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admitted, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

“Oh, really?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. “You seemed pretty good at racing; I thought you’d be good at kissing too.”

Ni-ki chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m still figuring out this whole romance thing. But with you? It just feels right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but lean in for another quick kiss. The sun had fully set now, leaving a blanket of stars shimmering overhead, but the warmth of the moment lingered.

[leaderwon]

hi! could you please do a part 2 to enha forgets ur birthday? pls part 1 was so good🫵🏼🫶🏻 i just wanna see them grovel lol

non!idol enhypen x non!idol reader

forgetting your birthday pt. 2 !

pt. 1

warnings : she/her pronouns used, cursing, crying, mentions of grief.

luna's diary : this one kinda sucks ugh. HELLA RUSHED because I went to a trip (Singapore + Malaysia) AND THE CELL SERVICE WAS terrible I'm so so so sorry anons this is very dissapointing but I felt bad making yall wait for so long. Promise to edit this as soon as I reach home!

HEESEUNG

After the realisation that your boyfriend, had indeed forgotten your birthday, the birthday spirits you had in the starting of the day had blown away. As promised he appeared to your door step with flowers in his hands as he murmured a set of apologies for forgetting your special day. Saying you were mad at your boyfriend would be a huge understatement. You were furious with a hint of disappointment. "baby I'm sorry please" he said as you closed your eyes felt a few tears threatening to fall. Noticing this heeseung hugged you tight and ran his hands in your head wondering how he could make it up to you. He knew he messed up and this couldn't be mended easily. Like a broken dam, your tears started flowing uncontrollably. "How could you forget hee?" you questioned him finally using your voice for the first time since he arrived. "I know pretty girl im so sorry" he said as his voice hitched and eyes swelling up with tears, his mind running on a marathon trying to find ways to make it up to you. Like a bulb lighting above his head, he left you on the spot and rushed to the living room.

A few minutes later he rushed back ushering you to follow him. Upon reaching the living room you saw a beautifully decorated living room with fairy lights, your favourite blankets with your snacks and your favorite movie ready to play. A smiled adorned your features as you heard him say "i know what I did was terrible but let me try to make it up to you".

JAY

He was at a party with the boys when you made him realised that he had messed up the date. He couldn't believe it. This man was shocked, mind blank wtf type shock. By the time he reached home he was already in tears. But when he saw how dark your house was with sadness evident on your face as you slept in your bed he broke down right in front of your sleeping figure.

How could he mess up the date that marks your creation? He was more dissapointed in him than you were tbh. You were soon awaken by the sounds of your boyfriend's cries. "Baby what's wrong?" You questioned him cradling his face. "I'm sorry princess I'm so sorry i can't believe I forgot your birthday"

He was more heartbroken than you were, his emotions all over the place. "Baby it's okay i promise" Cuddles and kisses you the whole night and clears his schedule for the next day.

JAKE

The whole day you patiently waited for Jake to show his existence to you. It was your birthday and you were excited to spend the day with him. But to no avail, he didn't show up. Deciding to occupy yourself with your phone, you saw a notification indicating that Jake had uploaded a story. The light in your eyes faded away as you took in Jake with Iseul, a junior, on your birthday.

Having done with this, you decided to finally text him. Upon realising what he had done, he rushed home to see you on the couch with a dark cloud above your head. "Hey baby" Jake started slowly. "I'm really sorr-" "Save it Jake I don't want to hear it" You responded cutting him off. "But baby you know Iseul is like a younger sister to me" He started again. He was walking on eggshells right now knowing that if he said anything wrong you would crack. "I get that she's a younger sister to you, but Jake it's my birthday, you could have comforted her tomorrow, but my birthday wont be tomorrow" You replied. "I waited for you so long, try and look at this in my point of view Jake" as you said that his eyes softened. "I'm so sorry, i get why you're mad at me baby please let me try and make it up to you" He said trying to mend things. "Just give me time Jake, i don't think I'll get over this easily" You said as you left the house.

You were back 3 hours later, with jake in the same spot you left him. He expression blanked as he looked at you. You were spooked out by him as you stared back at him for a moment. "Are you just gonna stand there for the rest of your life?" You asked giggling. Hearing your precious laughter he looked at you with a slight smile on his face. "Baby, I'm sorry i really am. I don't know how it managed to slip out of my mind. I swear i remembered it I'm so sorry" He said starting to ramble as you looked at him. His words barely registered in your mind due to how fast he was speaking. "Jake it's okay" "and i get it if you're still mad at me and don- wait what?" He asked confused. "You accept my apology?" He continued as you nodded. Finally moving after hours he engulfed you in a hug. "Thank you Thank you, I'll make sure this never happens again" he said gratefully. "You better not do this shit again" You said.

"Now tell me the Iseul tea"

SUNGHOON

When you asked him if he checked his calendar out of the blue he was confused. Why would you suddenly want him to check his calendar?

Upon actually checking his calendar he went pale realising he forgot your birthday, an occasion that shouldn't be remembered through a calendar. This guy was going through five stages of grief.

"no way i forgot my princess' birthday"

"how the fuck did I manage to forget her birthday?"

"God please let this be a dream"

"i forgot her birthday"

"okay i forgot her birthday, let's make it up to her" He said finally reaching the last stage of grief, acceptance. He rushed to your house to see you not there. He called your name multiple times hoping to get an answer from you finally seeing you sitting in the balcony.

"Hey baby, whatcha doin'?" your boyfriend asked you slowly walking towards you. "Nothing just sitting" You replied slowly, sadness evident in your voice. "Baby" Sunghoon starts again sitting next to you this time. He passed you a chocolate eyeing you to open it.

Upon opening it you noticed a small peice of paper with "I love you" and "I'm sorry" written on it. "I don't know how it slipped my mind, princess. But I will make it up to you, I promise". You understood his point of view, it was common to forget stuff. Though you were still hurt by this, you laid your head on his shoulder and the both of you silently enjoyed the scenery your balcony offered in silence.

SUNOO

The day had ended by the time your boyfriend had finally remembered your existence and decided to text you. You had held a party to celebrate your special day with your friends and family hoping to see a sign of sunoo. When sunoo had first texted you, you were shocked to find out that he had absolutely no idea what party or what special occasion you were talking about. You were devastated to find out that not only did he not know what day it was, but he expected you to tell him.

What kind of boyfriend doesn't remember his girlfriend's birthday and then expect her to tell him? You were mad at him with alot of hurt lingering inside you.

The clock read 1:30 am the moment he stepped inside the house. Looking around he saw leftover confetti, balloons and alocholic beverages yet to be picked up. All of this indicating that there was infact a party held. Sunoo knew that what he had done would not take a good turn and that it would take alot of fighting and apologizing to make it up to you. Spotting you with tears in your eyes, he made his way to you slowly pulling you into a hug and started apologizing.

He was sorry and guilty, you knew he was. But him expecting you to tell him that it was your birthday was where you drew the line.

You were unsure on whether you could forgive him at all. He promised to take you out tomorrow and attempt to make it up to you. You knew that wouldn't heal the hurt this had caused you, but you appreciated his efforts and agreed as you hugged him back.

JUNGWON

Out of all the people you liked in your life, you never expected Yang Jungwon to forget your birthday. If someone told you he would, you would laugh your ass off. But now, you were in tears as you held your phone finally deciding to text him.

You were in disbelief as you found out that he thought your birthday was next weekend. Thoughts like "How can someone mess up their lover's birthday?" "does he care less to not know which day" were running through your head.

He rushed into your home apologizing immediately mentioning how much he had planned and got a date wrong. He was on the verge of tears as you looked up at him rambling.

"Baby i promise i remembered, look I even had some gifts prepared" He said as he sped walk towards your shared dresser in the bedroom opening up a random compartment you had no idea existed. "What the fuck? Since when was that there?" You asked him in utter shock.

"It's always been there baby, you never noticed it" Jungwon said taking out a huge amount of gifts for you. "You weren't kidding when you said you were prepared huh?" You spoke as you scanned the bags. "Since last month" He winked at you as he led you to your living room.

"I'm so sorry, i can't believe I forgot your birthday I'm such a bad boyfriend" Jungwon apologized to you as guilt and shamed swirled in his orbs ( is this even right wtf - leaderwon ).l

"Won it's fine, don't worry" You said as a smile finally made its way on your face. "Now let's see what you got me I'm so excited" you said again as you smiled wider in happiness.

NI-KI

You were raging as you watched him play his video games for the entire day. You weren't an anti of games for you were also into playing. But it was your birthday today, a day he was supposed to spend with you instead of the ps5 Jay had gotten him on his birthday last year.

You were heartbroken as you tried to knock some sense into your boyfriend. Unfortunately, it didn't work. Finally giving up, you took your wallet and coat and left the house to get fresh air.

You could feel your phone vibrate as Ni-ki spammed your phone asking where you were. You decided against on replying and just walked ahead. Soon, you heard your boyfriend call your name from behind as he ran towards you. You tried walking faster since you didn't want to be with him at the moment. But your luck was unfortunate as he had legs long asf and caught up to you within moments.

"baby stop, come back home it's late" he begged. "Go back to your game, it's never too late for that" You said in a monotonous tone. "I'm sorry" "Sorry won't fix the day I lost waiting for you to fucking realise and rejecting all my friends who cared enough to want to spend the day with me" You said almost tearing up and walking again.

"I'm sorry" You heard him say as he stopped following you. You never heard his voice be so gentle in the 2 years you have been dating him. His voice sounded like he was on the brink of having a mental breakdown. "I really am" He said again and your heart dropped. You wondered if you were being too harsh on him.

Frozen in place, you could feel the tension in the air as the cool air blew through your hair. You were trying really hard to stay strong and hard but when you turned back to look at him, you could feel your heart drop to your stomach. You knew you were soft for this man, but the moment you looked at him you could feel emotions that you weren't aware yu could feel.

"Please" You heard him say. His eyes were pitiful with a tear threatening to fall. "I know i fucked up but please please let me try and make it up to you". You couldn't bare to see him like this anymore. "Fine" You sighed and walked towards him again.

You were hurt he missed your birthday, yes. But seeing him like that hurt you more. You knew you were deep as you held his hand and walked to the house the both of you resided in.

© @leaderwon 2024. Do not copy, translate, alter, repost or plagarize in any platform

[lostinlads]

Pretty in Pink

Synopsis: your boyfriend, rafayel, finally lets you buy feminine clothes for him after you asking. he tries them on for you, but to your surprise he ends up liking them a lot more than you imagined.

Tags: rafayel x afab!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, no use of y/n, smut, porn with little plot, not proofread, not edited, femboy!rafayel, overstimulation, pegging, dressing rafayel up, whiney and needy rafayel, use of pet names (m receiving- my fishy, baby), raf calls you master, light spanking, you suck him off through his panties

Words: 4.2k

a/n: hi everyone, i know that there is a lot of stress right now especially with my fellow americans so i hope this can distract you even for just a moment. also i literally wrote this bc moot on twitter were making me and tbh? i loved it. but this is my one shot to tell everyone im back to writing after taking a week off! i hope you love femboy rafayel as much as i do because this man makes me insane actually

ao3 | kofi

It's been over a month since you've tried to convince your boyfriend to let you dress him up in feminine clothes, the thought of seeing his smooth, silky skin wrapped with lace and soft fabric made your head spin and twisted the desire in your gut even tighter. He finally warmed up to it, allowing you to go out and buy whatever your heart called out to. Excitement wasn't even the word to describe the feelings that whirred around in your head.

You sat on your shared bed, staring longingly at the massive walk-in closet that held Rafayel, gnawing your lip as the only sound to occupy the space was the soft shuffling of him dressing behind the closed door. You wondered what he would choose first, having gone maybe a bit crazy in the luxurious stores, grabbing anything with lace and bows. Fuck, the anticipation making you nearly jump out of your seat to see his beautiful milky skin in fabric so thin you could rip it to shreds. The image of his long legs in stocking, or better yet, thigh high socks nearly make you drool.

Rafayel poked his head out from the door, cheeks a rosy pink, his eyes not meeting yours. "I think I'm finished..." His voice quiet, embarrassed. You shift, sitting up straighter on the bed as you wait for him to show you.

"Well?" You question, wanting nothing more than to walk over, throw open the door, and run your hands all over his body. He gulps, taking a breath before pushing open the door at an agonizingly slow pace. You wished he would hurry, toss it open so you can drink him in, but the slight tremble in his hands and the blush deepening down to his neck you knew he was nervous.

"Uh," Rafayel spoke, stepping fully into view in front of you, hands attempting to pull the short skirt down further to cover more of his delicate skin. You rake your eyes down his body, slowly taking him in fully. 

A baby blue sweater hung off of his torso loosely, small cherries embroidered on the knit fabric, making it look warm and perfect for spring. The sleeves falling just shy of his fingers as his palms lay hidden underneath. Hugging his hips and dipping down his legs a blue and white pleated skirt lay, falling a few inches below the curve of his ass. Legs almost fully on display, white sheer stockings stopping just at the middle of his plush thighs - lace bows tying at the top. 

You watched as he wrapped his arms around himself, eyes darting off to the corner of the room as his cheeks and the tips of his precious ears blazed in heat. His thighs rubbing together as your gaze pierced right through him. You knew, just in the way he squirmed under your eyesight that the other outfits would have to wait for another day. You needed him, and the growing tent he tried to conceal in his skirt told you that he needed you too.

"Come here," Arms opening for him, voice soft and warm. Your boyfriend flashed his eyes to you, teeth sucking his bottom lip in as he nibbled. Unsure footsteps towards you, his eyes staying trained on the floor as he inches closer. 

"Do you... like it?" Rafayel asks, eyes never meeting yours, hands running down the length of his short skirt. Do you like it? Surely he's joking. The growing dampness between your thighs was answer enough for his silly little question. You loved it. Wanting nothing more than to pull him onto your lap and let your fingers run over every inch of his heavenly body. 

"I love it, baby," You reach out to him, hands finding his small waist as you pull him closer, needing to feel his body heat on you. He looks down, watching your hands slip under his sweater and caress his soft, sweet skin. "So beautiful," You whisper, barely enough for him to hear. Rafayel reaches forward, hands resting on your shoulders as he slots himself between your spread legs bare thighs brushing your own. You could feel how warm he was, how his body temperature raised just by you admiring him.

Hands running down to his thighs, you rub your thumb where the stockings met his skin, admiring the way the lace looked as if it belonged on him, like it was made for Rafayel alone. Hands brushing over his creamy pale skin, running up towards the hem of his skirt, you could hear his ragged breath quicken. How his hands gripped your shoulders tighter and how he shifted between your legs. You knew he liked this, could see how turned on he was from wearing this for you. You continued on your path up, groping here and there at his delicious thighs until your fingers brushed against something soft and thin on his hip. Something you hadn't expected.

"What?" You question, reaching to push the skirt up higher so you could get a look for yourself. Your boyfriend's hands flying to still yours, just a second too slow.

"W-wait!" He stutters out, voice high and desperate - but it's too late. With his blue skirt hiked up to his hips you're face to face with a pair of pink pastel panties you do not recall buying for him - or even owning for yourself. Fabric so thin you could make out the outline of his shaft through them, the small but growing wet patch near his tip becoming translucent with his precum. A tiny pink bow sat at the waistband, a pearl in the center glistening in the light. You couldn't help the smirk curling its way onto your lips as you stare at his weeping cock through the material.

"I don't remember buying you these, fishy," You hum, index finger reaching out to stroke his pretty, pink head. He gasps at the touch, cock twitching as his thighs rub together.

"I... got them myself..." Words nothing more than a mumble as you finally look up at him. Eyes blown wide and glossy, pink lips parted as he pants out hot breath, a heavy flush painting his beautiful face. A few strands of his purple locks brush the tip of his nose as he looks down at you. "You were so excited, I wanted... to surprise you..." 

Oh how badly you wanted to take him right then and there, toss him on the bed and have him writhe beneath you as you fuck his beautiful brains out. Rafayel had always been one to have a surprise or two up his sleeve, always leaving you on your toes - but this was something you would've never expected from him. 

Without answering, you let your finger run up the length of his shaft once more, a teasingly slow pace until you made your way back to his tip. He twitched beneath your touch, stomach clenching as you assault his sensitive skin. You wanted nothing more than to savor this moment, drag it out for as long as you can so you can drink in every moan, every twitch and flex of his muscles as you milk his sweet cum out. Lips graze over his cock as you lean in, placing a soft kiss to it, his wetness painting your lips when you pull back. You swear he stopped breathing as you look at his face, in a daze of lust - wanting you to ruin him.

"I don't think we are going to be able to see the other outfits I picked for you tonight, fishy," Hands coming to lift his sweater, exposing his stomach to the chilly air of the room, his muscles tightening under his skin. 

"Yeah..." Throat bobbing as he gulps. You stand, bodies flushing together. Hands cupping his cheeks, you bring his face to yours, lips connecting in a kiss. You can feel his desperation, the way he works his lips against yours, hands coming to your waist as he grips you closer. Feeling him grind his hips helplessly to yours, seeking relief for the tight tension that wound its way into his core. You hum, slowing him, licking at his lips as he tried to bury his tongue deep in your mouth, a cat and mouse game you both played so often, but him being on the receiving end. He didn't like it, a grunt leaving his mouth as he tried once more to deepen the kiss, only to be disappointed when you pull away completely.

"Not yet," You hum, thumb caressing his face as you admire his eyes, pupils wide with lust, with need. Hooded, showing the pink hue that swirled and darkened. Heavy pants leaving his lips as they dusted on your face. "Why don't we take this off of you?" Fingers coming down to play with the hem of his sweater. He nods, barely enough time before you pull it up and over his head, leaving his torso bare. Pink nipples hardened, your mouth wanting nothing more than to latch on and hear him whine for you, arching his back into you. But that could wait, you needed to get him on the bed.

Wrapping your arms around him, you switch positions, the back of his knees pressed to your shared bed. With a small push he sat with a bounce, you could see the nerves tensing in his arms as he stared up at you. Those eyes waiting in anticipation, swirling with need and want, moments like these you were thankful he was all yours. 

"Do you want me to take this off?" Rafayel asked, hands smoothing over the pleated skirt. You smile, lips curling as you climb on his lap.

"No, I want it on," With shaky hands he holds onto your waist, looking up at you with wide eyes. You lean in, kissing him again, slow and lazy as your hands roam over his top half. Snaking down from his neck, over his broad shoulders, down to his pecs. The nails of your index fingers grazing softly over his sensitive nipples.

"Ah!" He pulled back with a gasp, chest heaving with every rough breath leaving his lungs. You feel him twitch beneath you, cock jumping at the contact he craved. Chuckling you place a soft kiss to his forehead, brushing his soft locks to the side before you let your hand drop to his chest again. Thumb brushing over one perked nipple, a hiss drawing from between his teeth. You flick it, softly, feeling his hands tighten on you as a soft, sweet whimper leaves his blessed lips. A sound so beautiful you wish you could record it, your favorite song. 

"Lay back, baby," Whispering in his ear, sending a shiver to rake through his body. He obeys, back hitting the mattress and eyes closing. You run your hands down, teasing him with just your fingertips as you draw out small gasps and heavy breaths from him below you. Taking the opportunity, you grind your hips down on him, rubbing your clothed heat against his leaking dick. A moan slipping from your lips from just the feeling of how hard he was for you, how much he wanted to be fucked by you. Rafayel cried out, eyes screwing tighter shut as he arched his back, trying to get even more friction any way he can.

"Mm, please," He whined, thrusting his hips up in an attempt to meet yours, but you pull away before he could make contact.

"Please, what?" You coax, knowing this would only make the blush on his face deepen. While Rafayel took his time to whine and wiggle in protest, you sink to your knees on the floor. Fingers tracing between his thighs as you push them apart, getting a glimpse of his pretty pink panties that held his needy cock. Peeking an eye open he glanced down at you, brows creased as he watched you plant a single kiss to the skin of his thigh.

"I'm waiting," You remind him, fingers playing with the hem of his stockings, curling under softly and letting it snap back onto his skin. 

"Please..." Rafayel pauses, breathing in deeply as he stares into your eyes. "Master..." Word so soft you almost didn't catch it, but as it rings through your ears something ignites deep in your core. Pushing his skirt up, bunching it at his thin, slutty waist, you waste no time to touch him.

Cupping his member through his now sheer panties you feel him shudder, pearls of precum leaking from his pretty tip. You stroke him once, a soft moan slipping from him as his thighs tighten around you. Already so touch starved and you haven't even gotten started yet. Swiping a thumb over his tip Rafayel tries to lift his hips, desperate, already so close to cumming for you, but with your other hand you hold him still, wanting to draw everything you can out of him.

"Not yet, baby," You mumble before leaning down, placing a firm kiss to his throbbing cock. "I've barely had any fun yet." Placing another, you hear your boyfriend stutter out a moan, the slick wetness of his groin collecting on your lips. It made you drool, just the taste of him sending your brain into a frenzy.

Flattening your tongue, you lick a fat stripe up his shaft, his fingers curling in the sheets, hips attempting to rock forward. He didn't make it far, bumping onto your outstretched tongue once before you held him back down. He whined in protest, high pitch and defiant, but slowly washing out into another moan as you lick one more stripe. 

"Please, please please!" He cried out, head falling back onto the plush bed. You wanted to laugh at how cute he sounded, how his whimpers and whines only wanted to make you torture him even more. But you wrapped your lips around his leaky head, tongue brushing over his clothed slit as you lapped up his precum through the fabric. Rafayel choked out a cry, body jumping as one of his hands threaded through your hair. Now, you had him right where you wanted him. 

"Taste so fucking good for me, baby, you know that?" Lips brushing on his cock as you spoke, low and sultry to make his head meddle into mush. He only cried in response, shifting under you as to coax you into pleasing him more. You obliged, humming as you wrapped your lips around him once more, drooling on his dick, his panties completely soaked in the front. Other hand coming up to caress his balls, granting a high pitch whine from him as his fingers tug at your scalp. You could feel how close he was. How much he aches for release from the way your mouth was flooding with his wetness. The way his balls tightened, and the vein running along the underside of his shaft throbbed. 

"Cum-!" He cried out, words dying on his tongue, mixing with a moan as his hips jutted forward, pressing your face directly onto his cock, forcing you to smell the musky scent of his skin and arousal. You could hear how quick his breaths were becoming, almost on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Not yet fishy. Hold out a little more," You hum onto his sensitive skin. Tongue massaging his cock from base all the way up to his head. You slurp at his slit, sucking down everything he had to offer as he tried to hold back his release, the lewd sound buzzing off of the walls. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, soaking through your underwear at just him alone. It didn't matter if you came tonight, you just needed to string out as many orgasms from him as you could until the sun rose, the image of him cumming for you was enough to get you off.

"C-can't! Can't hold-!" Rafayel cries, back arching as his hand falls from your hair and back to the sheets below. Releasing him, you lean back, hand still stroking him as you watch in awe at his cock twitch, tip an angry shade of pink as he tried to hold himself back. 

"Cum for me baby," You whisper, eyes never leaving him as your hand moves faster, forcing him to reach his peak. 

Rafayel wastes no time, a deep moan growling from his chest as his eyes roll so far back you swear he could see his own brain. His beautiful cock twitches once, twice, then you watch as his milky cum spurts out of his tip. Soaking his panties even more, dripping through the fabric and onto his pelvis. You want to lap it up, drink whatever he has to offer, but that wasn't the plan for tonight. His mouth the perfect O shape as his moans drowned out to silent gasps of breath.

As he slowly calms down, only thing left was him twitching beneath you, you never released him. Still stroking him, milking his cock dry, sending spasms through his body with every stroke. You don't allow his cock to soften, pumping him until his shaft swelled and thickened once more.

"You did so well," You praise, other hand coming to stroke his soft thigh. "Do you think you can do one more for me?" Voice silky, hoping he would grant you your wishes. With a weak nod, you see him bob his head, chest inflating and deflating with every breath. 

You waste no time pulling his spent panties down his legs, freeing him completely. Slick and wet cock, shining in the lights of his room. Your hand returns, pumping him, not satisfied until you see those pearls dribble down from his slit. He squirmed, thighs jumping, abs flexing as he threw his head back onto the bed again.

"Ah-!" Your lover cries out, hand coming to push yours away from his sensitive member. Swatting his hand away, it only drives you further, feeling him twitch in the palm of your hand, watching the first beads drip down his shaft. 

"I want you to ride me, baby. Can you do that for me?" You push off of him, standing to your feet and strip. Cool air kissing your skin as you lay on the mattress. Reaching your hand to your nightstand and pulling open the drawer, your fingers clasping over a bottle of lube and your pink opal strap on. You slip it over your hips and reach out to your pink faced boyfriend. With shaky arms, Rafayel crawls to you, still huffing out hot air, cock stiff and leaking as he settles on your lap.

The dildo pressed to his backside, your hands come down and kneed his ass cheeks. Two full handfuls as you massage them, soothing him as he made himself comfortable on your thighs. His hands coming to rest on your waist, holding him steady as you fondle him, fingers giving you a small but loving squeeze as his eyes bore into yours. Vibrant irises swirling with color, lust, and affection - moments like these made you realize just how much you loved this man. After a beat, you released him, hands finding the bottle of lube and coating your fingers.

"Are you ready, my fishy?" He nods, bobbing his head as he lifts himself off of you just enough for you to reach around. Fingers graze over his hole and you feel him clench, a small hiss at the sudden liquid. Your free hand hold onto his hip, squeezing it to let him know you would take care of him, that he is safe. Rafayel and you have used your strap a few times, him slowly warming up to it more and more but every time you started you could see the nervousness in his pretty eyes. "I have you," You promise, easing a finger through his tight ring of muscle. He relaxes, letting out a breath, allowing you to sink in deeper. He was so warm, wishing you had an actual cock so you can feel what it was like to be inside of him, feeling your own personal heaven.

He whines from above you, shifting his hips to let you know he wanted more. You reach another finger in, him relaxing more, taking your fingers to the base. You give him a moment to adjust, watching his face intently for any signs of discomfort or rejection. But the only thing you can find is his glossy pink lips parting, tongue darting out to swipe at them and his lust filled eyes calling out to you.

"More," Voice clear, almost demanding as he moves his hips, grinding back onto your hand. You oblige happily, pulling them out almost completely before thrusting them back in. He grants you a moan, eyes fluttering shut, his hair brushing along his cheeks as he tips his head forward. 

"Already such a mess and I haven't even fucked you yet, someone is a needy boy tonight," You coo, thumb brushing against his hip as you thrust your fingers into him again, this time curling them. 

"N-need you in me, M-Master!" Rafayel cries out, thrusting forward into the air between you. You don't waste any time, pulling your slicked up finger out and coating your fake cock with lube. No matter how much you wanted to push him down and fuck his brains out you knew you had to be patient, just for a little longer at least.

"Go slow," You soothed, holding his clothed hip firm as he slowly eased himself onto your fake cock. You watch as his mouth falls open, the tip of it sliding in his hole as he slowly sunk deeper until he consumed it to the hilt. His skin on yours was hot and damp, a light layer of sweat glowing on his skin as you watch him breathe in and out. 

Rafayel recovered in seconds, rising his hips before letting them fall back down, skin slapping on skin. You watch as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth to conceal his noises, those delicious sounds he kept from you. 

He rose his hips again, stiff cock slapping on your tummy as he fell back down, bobbing the hem of his skirt, dribbling his precum on your silky skin. When he rose once more you watch the thin string connect from your stomach to his head snap, before another bead rolled down his swollen shaft. You raised your hand and placed a hard smack to his ass cheek.

"F-fuck, ah!" Rafayel gasps out, shaky body lurching forward. You take the opportunity to shift your hips under him, hands coming to his waist so you can take control. One thrust, his sweet, beautiful cries ring out. Eyes closed, his flush spreading to his broad chest, looking ethereal and fucked out. 

"So pretty for me," You breathe, caressing his skin as you fuck up into him again, faster. He hummed in response, brain foggy and only filled with sex, not able to form words. 

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the space around you, both of your moans clouding your mind as you give your all to your lover. Watching his godlike body crumble over every small touch you grant him, every twitch of his weeping cock as it smacked against your skin leaving behind marks of his love for you. You wanted nothing more than to watch him come undone, paint your body as you feel him shake with pleasure on top of you.

"Close-" Your lover shivers out, hands coming to hold you tight as he squeezed his eyes shut. You bless him with another spank, it ringing off of the walls as he falls to your chest, arms giving out beneath him. 

"Yeah? I want you to cum for me, fishy," You whisper in his ear, hot breath fanning down his neck and making him groan. That was enough to send him over the edge, a string of high pitch moans falling from his beautiful lips as you feel him twitch twice, then his warm, hot liquid seep between your bodies. You don't stop, slowing your hips to lazy thrusts until every last drop drained from his balls, every spurt met with its own thrust. Sweaty forehead nestled in the crook of your neck as he cries, lips pressed to your skin, hands grabbing you wherever he can, rubbing his softening cock against your body. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close to your chest as you ride out his high with him. 

Slowly, your boyfriend stills, hips jerking once before settling quietly in your arms, breath fanning over your skin as he fights to control himself. You ease out of him, earning a hiss in response, but once you're out he bares his full weight onto you, crushing you beneath him onto the bed. You kiss him, lips brushing on his temple as you feel his rapid heart beat against your chest. 

"You did so well for me, baby," Cooing as you pet his dam hair. 

"Well obviously," His cocky attitude returning in no time as he huffed out of breath, making you laugh out loud with how ridiculous he could be at times. 

[tetzoro]

HOME SWEET HOME — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. nanami kento !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : there’s nothing more than nanami loves than coming home to you after a long day, especially if he had to work overtime.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. unprotected sex, cockwarming, soft smut, needy nanami tbh, — WC : 800

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this is an edited fic from my old blog. this man deserves to be taken care of <3

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

nights like these were starting to become more frequent. nanami would have a mission and often times, he wasn’t able to return until after you had fallen asleep. he’d always return frustrated, upset that he didn’t get to cradle you in his arms, planting sweet kisses all over your body as you fell asleep.

the man already hated working overtime enough and after marrying you, he despised it even more. so coming home late usually meant one of two things.

the first, he’d come home, shower off the grueling day and gently crawl into bed, careful not to wake you up. holding you so close as he tried to push away the bad thoughts he was having about whatever experience he had that day.

the second was different, very different. the second was the kind of night tonight was. nanami raced through the house, tearing off his clothes every step of the way. grabbing a hold of his tie and yanking it down, loosening it quickly. buttons were practically flying off his deep blue shirt as he made his way into your shared bedroom.

normally, nanami thought of himself as a calm and collected man — save for a few times he’s bursted his forehead vein over something idiotic gojo said. but when it came to you, his impulse control slipped through his fingers. whenever he needed you, he had to have you right away.

and there you were waiting for him so, so sweetly. fast asleep, you’re curled up into bed in his favorite silk nightgown you owned, your arm reaching over to where he would usually lie next to you.

practically jumping into his spot, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent for all of its worth. it only lasted a second before the need fired ablaze deep within his core, yearning for your touch — your love.

“darling.” he called out, hands pawing all over your body as his lips attacked your neck. it didn’t take much for your eyes to flutter open, taking in the scene before you. as soon as nanami walked through the bedroom door and saw you, he couldn’t help his obvious arousal. you felt him pressed up against you, desperately hard, throbbing viciously against your thigh. “please, need to be inside of you. right now.”

his voice was overflowing with desperation, each syllable of his sentence resulted in a slight voice crack, his body rocking against yours as he continued to nip and kiss your neck. nodding eagerly, you reach under the blankets and give his throbbing cock a few tentative tugs, sending him further into his spiral, teeth sinking into your shoulder to hide the strangled noises he was involuntarily letting out.

moving your underwear aside, you rub the tip of his already oozing head against your slick, gathering as much as quickly as you can. nanami let out a groan, relishing in the feeling, uncontrollably bucking his hips into your sweet hands.

as soon as you were able to, you ease him inside your warm, wet cunt. throwing your leg over his side, greedily sucking him all the way in. the room fills with a symphony of moans as he fills you up so perfectly. no matter how many times the two of you had been intimate together, the initial feeling always left you breathless.

“home sweet home.” nanami breathes out, the warm air flowing into your ear. his breathing started to even out as his shakes died down. wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you impossibly closer. your silken walls were so snug around his hard cock, keeping him right where he needed to be. he was convinced his cock was made to be inside of you, the way you perfectly molded around him sent shivers down his spine.

and on days like this, this is all he needed to cope. all he wanted to do was lie in his bed with his lover, focusing all his attention onto you as the horrors of the day started to fade away in your soothing presence.

often times, the two of you fell asleep like this. curled up in each other’s arms, filled to the brim while nanami’s faced pressed firmly into the crook of your neck, whispering the sweetest nothings into your ears as you succumbed to sleep. it didn’t take him much longer after you dozed off, content in watching your peaceful face was more than enough to send him off to wonderland.

he’d always make it up to you in the morning though, pounding you into the mattress and singing nothing but praises into your ear. worshiping you in the morning after a long night of cockwarming was a ritual at this point. but for right now, being caught up in you, it's all he could dream of doing.

[withleeknow]

i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 06.05.2024]

[cherryredstars]

Hiiii.

Could you do headcanons or something of Simon would be finding out his girlfriend is a virgin and/or their first time together maybe.

I totally understand if you don't feel comfortable writing it or don't think it would fit the character.

You're my favorite Simon writer and tbh I use your interpretation of him as a basis for my daydreams lol

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Losing Virginity, Penetrative Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex, Praise, Fluffy Sex

Summary: Simon takes your virginity in the most beautiful way.

A/N: I got TWO requests for this and I love it so much, I jumped for my laptop!! And that’s so sweet!! I’m glad my Simon has a special place in your heart!!!

Word Count: 3.8K (Not Edited)

His hands are shaky.

His large, steady hands that he has used to kill men and handle sniper rifles are shaking. He might be more nervous than you are. But he wants this to be good for you. He wants to be good to you. He wants it to be perfect and sweet and painless. He wants it to be everything you've ever dreamed of and he wants it to be everything you deserve. He wants you to enjoy it and ease your mind of all the pretty little thoughts stuck in your head. 

He doesn’t want you to regret this. Regret choosing him.

So, he’s soft. Feather light touches that make your body crave more and more. His hands are like clouds, making your naked body float as he sets you down on the pile of pillows on his bed. You sink into them, the white fluff cocooning your body. It keeps you warm, caressing your skin when Simon can’t. It warms your heart seeing how caring he is. How he takes these extra steps to make you more comfortable. How, even with something so all-consuming like sex, he still lets his world revolve around you. It makes you take a shaky breath, love and trust replacing the oxygen in your body.

Simon is slow as he crawls over your body, thighs planted on either side of your body. He hopes you can’t see the slight tremor in his hands as he brings them to your face, brushing hair behind your ears before cupping your cheeks. Your face is warm against his rough palms and he gets lost in your eyes. They are so powerful, sucking him in and refusing to let him go. They sparkle, shades of color twirling and dancing in your irises. In the natural glassiness of your eyes he can see himself. For a moment, he can see what you mean when you tell him how beautiful he is. He holds onto that image of himself, collecting another piece of you that will forever tether itself to his soul. 

He hopes when you look into his eyes, you see how devastatingly gorgeous you are. He hopes you see what he sees. 

His eyes grow heavy as he traces your features, his eyes drawing up a map that he explores every second he is away from you. His eyes catch on your lips, plump beauties that always make his lungs contract to the point that they ache. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours but not quite kissing. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, and his eyes flutter shut the second his lips press against yours. Your mouth moves against him, and he presses against your body. His hands stay gentle on your face, even as his eyes squeeze tight and his lips become more bruising with passion. 

His heart pounds against his chest, desperately wanting to escape and hand itself to you. His mind is a swirling storm of colors, reds and pinks and oranges that mix and pulse as his tongue invades your mouth. Your moan that he swallows drips down his throat like the sweetest honey, warming his stomach and giving his starving soul the motivation to go on. His whole body buzzes as he exchanges love with you, his tongue collecting yours as yours collects his. It coats his mouth until all he can taste is you. It feels like the end of the world when the two of you part. 

His chest is heaving at the same pace as yours, love suffocating both of you in the sweetest of ways. Your lips are swollen and glossy from spit, and they stretch to the most heart wrenching smile as you stare up at him. 

“You’re stunning.” He whispers into the quiet space, his hands leaving your face so he can see all of it unobscured. 

Your cheeks flush, and he notices how it travels and colors your whole body. Your body with its soft skin and perfect imperfections. He can’t stop his hands from tracing over them. Every dip and bump and mark. Tracing the paths of beauty marks, stretch marks, and the faded remainders of scars. Your body shivers over the little touches, and he can’t help but smile down at you. It is a fucking miracle someone like you wants someone like him.

As his eyes go further down, he notices the shifting of your hips. Picks up on the ways you try to subtly press your thighs together to stop the pulse ache in between them. It chokes Simon, and his hands come to rub the top of your thighs. You instantly relax into the touch, sinking into the pillows as he calms you slightly. He travels down your body, his body half on the bed. You squeak when he slowly parts your legs, revealing the glistening between your thighs. Your face burns as you become self-conscious with him so close to your folds. Your legs instinctively try to close, but Simon keeps them open. From over your mound, Simon looks up at you, a reassuring look on his face.

“I know, love, I know. But I have to prep you first. I want to make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

The words are soft and caring, sinking into your skin. You bite your lips shyly, whispering out an ‘okay’. You relax your body into the pillows, taking deep breaths to try to keep the rapid beat of your heart at bay. Simon praises you, encouraging you to continue to relax with soft coos. Your breath hitches the second his lips press into your inner thigh, getting you used to the feeling of his mouth around your sensitive areas. You whine from the sensation, hips wiggling the closer and closer he gets to the aching area. One of his hands comes to rest on your lower stomach to keep you still, only applying the necessary amount of pressure and not an ounce more. 

“Shh, baby. Just grab my hand if you need to, okay?” Simon mummers, his breath ghosting over your clit. 

You can simply nod, your two hands instantly playing with his fingers as you fidget. Simon smiles, turning his head to hide it into the side of your thigh as your cuteness warms his chest. You can feel the curve of his lips against your skin, feeling the slight puff of air he lets out. Seeing him so easy going calms your nerves, and he can feel the moment your body completely relaxes. He pulls away from your skin, his hand holding your thigh squeezing the skin reassuringly. 

He warns you with a gentle kiss right above your clit, and you hold your breath in preparation. It instantly escapes you as your mouth drops open with a sharp gasp when his lips press against your clit. Your hips jolt at the sensation, your hold on his hand tightening as he gives it a kitten lick. His lips rub against your bud, eyes looking up at you to study your expressions. Your mouth is dropped open with panting as he continues his ministrations on your clit, kissing and licking and sucking it into your mouth. When you become used to the sensation, his tongue drags down to your folds, licking the skin around them. You moan at the feeling, squeaking when he licks along your slit. 

“Si!” You cry out, hips arching off the bed as his tongue pokes at your entrance. 

His hand on your stomach brings them back down to the bed, and he moans at the rush of arousal that coats his tongue. His eyes are dazed, drunk on the liquid sugar between your thighs. His nose bumps against your clit as he moves his face up and down so his tongue can take it all in. You’re a moaning, whiny mess as he continues. Simon’s tongue begins to penetrate you and the two of you groan at the sensation. Your walls instantly clench around his wet muscle, and he can’t help but notice how tight you are. Too tight for you to be able to take his cock. 

You cry out when he pulls his face away from you, heavy breaths parting from your lips. You look down at him, worried you did something wrong, but the calm look on his face calms you down instantly. 

“I gotta stretch ya out, lovie. Can’t take m’with how tight you are right now. I’m going to have to stretch you out on my fingers, okay? Nice and slow.” Simon communicates, and your walls flutter at the idea of him fingering you. 

“Nice and slow,” you repeat back to him with a nod and he rewards you with another kiss to your sensitive clit. 

He leans his face back down to your cunt, resuming his addicting sucks and licks. It relaxes your body, only stiffening slightly as you feel his fingers. They don’t penetrate you, not yet. Instead they slide against you, collecting your slick to use as a lube. They’re glossy quickly, covered in your divine scent and smooth glaze. It takes everything inside of him not to instantly suck them into his mouth out of greediness. 

The warm pad of his hands leave you for a moment, and you breathe out when you feel them placed right under where Simon laps at you. Your breaths become slightly shaky, anticipation flowing through you as he teases the entrance. Your hands bunch into the pillows, eyes closing when the very tip of his singular finger slips inside. It parts your folds smoothly, and your walls tighten around it the deeper he pushes it. It's like your walls are trying to suck him in and push him out at the same time. 

Unlike what you’ve heard from other people when they've been fingered for the first time, it doesn’t hurt. There is definitely some pressure, but it feels more uncomfortable than anything. Simon moans against you when he knuckles out, your walls fluttering to welcome his digit. He curls it slightly to see how much room he has to move, and you moan as his blunt nails caress your rigid walls. As Simon expected, there isn’t a lot of room. You’re too tight and your body is dead set on suctioning itself around him like a second skin. 

His mouth wrapped around your clit, coaxing it to make your body cooperate. He sucks on it, long and hard, making your body tense up as you feel a band in you suddenly snap. You cry out, hands desperately clutching onto Simon’s head as your hips buck. The orgasm floods through you, temporarily drowning all your nerves in pure pleasure. Simon can feel the wetness surging around his finger, and he uses it to his advantage as he begins curling and thrusting his finger. 

With your body so relaxed with your climax, your walls have slackened just a bit. Simon tilts his hand upwards, making the finger inside of you apply pressure to your top wall. You whine out, slightly sensitive from your release. Simon pulls his face around from your thighs, and your cheeks flame at the sight of his glistening chin and lower face. It distracts you just enough to ignore the feeling of a second finger entering you. The uncomfortable ache gets stronger, and you wince from the foreign feeling. Simon instantly stops, eyes asking you if you want to continue. You don’t hesitate to nod. 

Simon’s hand on your stomach slides down, just enough for his thumb to reach your bud. The rough calluses of his thumb swipe over the wet pearl easily, and you mewl as your body sinks down into soft pillows. Simon’s second dinger slides in almost instantly, sheathing it within you. Simon’s eyes are intensely trained to where his fingers meet your opening, focused on making you as comfortable as possible. Slowly, he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing up on your walls to coax them to loosen. You moan out, hips slightly grinding in time to his curls. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl, just keep doing that. Taking it so well, so proud of you,” Simon praises, mind numb from the way the sound of squishy flesh and arousal fill the room.

You whimper, walls slightly clenching around his fingers. It makes his heart soar knowing how much his words affect you. To reward you, he slowly begins to scissor his fingers inside of you, parting them as far as they can go before bringing them back together. It’ll help stretch you out, and the sounds of pleasure you make in response are musical gold. 

“Think you can take another, sweet thing?” he whispers up at you. 

You're tempted to shake your head no. It would be too much for you, would feel too good. It would break you in seconds, and you know your body would give out before coming three times. But you shyly- oh so shyly- nod your head. Simon smiles encouragingly at you, kissing along your thighs and legs. It makes a dopey smile cover your face, slight giggles escaping you as you feel his ticklish stubble. Simon withdraws his fingers half-way, pushing them to one side as best as he could. You can feel yourself pulsing, whimpering when Simon’s ring finger slips into the empty space. You’re too tight for it to slip anywhere past his second knuckle, so he works you there. The palm of his hand slides against your clit, adding on to the delicious pleasure consuming you. You can’t help the small gasp and whimpers that leave you, and you moan out in surprise when his third finger fully slips in. 

He pauses, not moving his fingers and letting you adjust to the feeling of being so full and stretched. It burns just slightly, but it isn’t unbearable. In fact, it turns underwhelming all too quickly, your body already craving more. You sigh as you begin rotating your hips sloppily, humming as it forces his fingers to rub against your walls. Simon is in a trance as he watches you take your pleasure, and he curls his fingers to aid you. Your stiff movements become more fluid as your walls open up to him, the slippery sounds of wetness filling the room again. You can feel an orgasm snowballing in your lower stomach, and your thighs begin to shake. But just as it’s about to peak, Simon pulls his fingers out of you. 

Your breaths are shaky and you make a sound of betrayal as your orgasm dies away. Simon coos down at you, sympathy in his eyes as he comes up. He leaves apologetic kisses around your face, scattering them down your neck until they reach your collarbones and shoulders. Your mind quickly forgets the failed orgasm as you feel the oozing tip of Simon’s cock rub into your inner thigh. The precum it smears on your skin is warm, and you can feel the stickiness of it. You shift your thigh slightly, rubbing it against him. Simon moans against your skin, pulling away and panting into the junction of your shoulder. He pushes himself up, one of his hands grabbing yours. Instinctively, you squeeze it. 

“You ready? You still want this?” Simon asks you. “It’s okay if you change your mind, we can stop here if you want.”

The idea of stopping makes you want to cry, and you frantically answer him before he stops, “I want this. Please, Simon.”

Simon rubs your hand reassuringly, shushing you as his other hand guides him to your entrance. Slick instantly connects him to you, and he bites his lip as he rubs the head of his cock up and down. Your hips chase him, and your hand tightens around his. He chuckles at you, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. His forehead rests against yours, and he ever so softly asks you to meet his eyes. You do instantly, hips stilling and eyelashes fluttering. He smiles down at you, bumping his nose against yours. 

“This next part is going to hurt a bit, baby. I wish it didn’t, but it will. Just… try to breathe through it, okay? Squeeze my hand as tightly as you need to and we can stop if it’s too much.”

His words and tone are so caring that it makes your heart ache. You nod, whispering out an ‘okay’ when you see from the look on his face that he needs a verbal agreement. Simon kisses your forehead before he pulls away briefly. His eyes scan the pillows, and he grabs on from the outer edge of the pile. He lifts your hips gently, placing the pillow under them. It gives your lower body some height, and you think it’ll make it easier for him to slip inside of you. In no time, his forehead is back against yours, and his fingers are tangling with yours. You breathe deeply, focusing on his eyes as you feel his tip press against your entrance. 

Your breath hitches as his tip penetrates you, the crown slipping in. It makes your head dizzy, and Simon’s breathy exhale warms your chin. You blink rapidly up at him, mouth refusing to close as his head pops inside of you. Your body instantly tightens around him and he moans. His hand squeezes yours, trying to fight the urge to push more of himself inside of you. He takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a second before continuing. His eyes meet yours again as more and more of him enters you. Your breath is still seized in your chest, hand tightening around Simon’s. Through the buzzing in your brain, you feel Simon’s breaths hit you. Your eyes leave his face to his mouth, realizing he’s exaggerating his breathing for you. Your eyes stay to his lips as you begin copying him. 

You stiffen when he stops inside of you, his tip meeting resistance as it presses against your hymen. Simon swallows, breathing deeply. He looks pained as he looks at you, like he dreads what’s next.

“Hey, love. You still with me?” He asks you gently. When you nod, he smiles slightly and continues. “You’ve been doing so good for me so far, baby. But, there is one more thing I need you to do for me, okay?”

The undertone he uses makes you unease and your body squirms. It causes him to press harder against the barrier inside of you and he hisses. You instantly stop. You bite your lips nervously, squeezing his hand. “What is it, Si?”

His hand squeezes yours in return, but his smile drops slightly. “This part is going to hurt the most. I’m gonna have to thrust into you with a bit of force to break through, okay? I need you to take a really deep breath for me. Can you do that?”

You can feel your body break out into a sweat as your nerves flare. But you nod hesitantly. Your hand has a death grip on Simon in preparation. Slowly you take a deep breath in, as Simon begins to slide his cock back slightly. Your chest puffs up with air, and it rushes out of you in a choked, high-pitched noise as he thrusts back in. His hand instantly comes to grab your other hand as you let out a small scream, and he peppers kisses around your face as he apologizes over and over again. 

“I know. I know, I’m so sorry. I know, bunny.”

He’s all the way to the base, and you feel so full. You’re breathing heavily, nails digging into Simon’s skin. Your eyes are glassy with unshed tears. Simon’s lips are at your temple, muttering reassuring words to you until you calm down and that initial pain and burn disappear. You sniffle, eyelashes blinking away your tears. Your hands loosen from Simon’s slightly and he pulls his face away from yours. 

“You okay? You want me to start moving?” he whispers to you, pushing sweat drenched hair away from your face with a soft smile. 

You squirm slightly, wincing a tiny bit, but nod. “Just… go slow.”

Simon mumbles an ‘of course’, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling out slightly and giving you a slow and shallow thrust. You squeak at the feeling, your hands falling to Simon’s shoulders. Simon keeps that slow pace until the slight discomfort fades away. You moan as the pleasure starts registering, and soon you find yourself asking him to go faster. Simon obeys, beginning to pull out more and more until he’s thrusting into you at a good pace. 

Your mouth parts with soft moans and gasps, throwing your arms around Simon’s neck. Simon’s arms come to wrap around your body, burying his head in your neck and pressing kisses to the skin. The drag of his cock against your walls feels heavenly and the knot in your stomach begins to tighten. 

‘I- oh my god, Simon!” You moan out as he goes faster, the fluttering of your walls driving him mad. You feel amazing, tight and warm around him. He has to take deep breaths to not blow his load in the next second. 

“Gods, love. You feel so incredible,” he moans out, pulling you closer to his body. Your walls clench even tighter around and his eyes roll to the back of his head. 

“Si, I’m gonna-” You cut yourself with a moan as you throw your head back, arms tightening around his neck.

Simon’s face drops to your chest, sucking and kissing. “Go ahead, I got you baby. I got you.”

You’re done in an instant, moaning out his name as you come. Your walls pulse against him rapidly, and his pace turns desperate. His face slackens as he stills, spilling his own release into you. He slumps forward, pressing the two of you into the pillows as he twitches inside of you. Your hands rake through his hair, your combined panting filling the room. Simon places lazy, open mouthed kisses on the skin he can reach, each one followed by a slurred praise. You hum in content, your hands pulling his face up to yours. You have a dizzying smile on your face, and Simon loses his breath all over again. Your lips capture his, and he’s more than willing to kiss back. 

When the two of you pull back, your cheeks warm. “Thank you, Simon. That was amazing.”

You can see Simon filling with love and pride, a smile spreading on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You giggle as he attacks your face with playfully kisses that leave wet marks in their wake. You laugh and squeal as you try to push him away, head thrown back with delight. Simon could die like this, he thinks. He would give up everything in the world to stay in this moment with you for the rest of his life. He smiles down at you, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“C’mon, let’s get cleaned up, love”

My heart is warm and fuzzy!!!

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

[acuar-io]

Advice on how to achieve aesthetically pleasing gameplay photos!

UPDATED: 4/22/2024

I made this post earlier today and people were interested in the comments! Which made me more excited to make this post~

this is just some advice from me! this isnt a tutorial or anything of that sort, but I will be linking some things that could be helpful for editing gameplay! :D

First things first, I want to say that I use a graphics overhaul, lighting mods check my resources page for what reshade i use if ur interested.

I use these lighting mods & graphics override specifically:

sunblind

graphics overhaul

Lotharihoe's ootd* curseforge download :)

Northern siberia winds in-game better lighting mod (bright base)

these are some other lighting mods you can try out as well!

Luumia's NoBlu & NoGlo

these are some other lighting mods like sunblind

how to install lighting mod

I just wanted to add these things in since we're talking screenshots + I wanted to share for the no reshade ppl <3

Now we can move on to the advice!

I love the simple style of gameplay editing so much, but for me I love creating an ambience with my posts and put the audience inside of my gameplay. I also enjoy storytelling with gameplay more than just the "usual" gameplay post (when it comes to me). I am currently playing the globetrotter challenge with my sim Daichi. I really went all out with the editing for that gameplay. For this one its very much a virtual collage of my sim doing things. Trying new things and getting inspired by others is always fun and cool! Remember when u do take inspo: link to the inspiration and @ the simmer that inspired u!!

In my other save (my cozy save) I also take creative liberties there.

its more of a cozy vibe & silent story-telling (storytelling w/o the dialogue). for my cozy save i take inspiration from @/stellarfalls. er gameplay really helped me find my niche thing in the way i play the game tbh!

Angles/Screenshots

When you're taking your screenshots, angles are important. Depending on the shot, you're putting emphasis on a specific thing. This post is very helpful and talks about different types of angles/shots and what they mean. Check it out especially if you want to play around with the way you take screenshots!

Here’s some editing tips from @stellarfalls !!

simmingstars editing tips

Reshade

If I want to create a moody or dreamy ambience I can use reshade. Looking for a reshade that will fit the overall vibe is a must or you can make your own~

i know not everyone is able to use reshade because they're not on windows. I highly recommend using photoshop actions to create that ambience you're looking for.

*These can be used in photopea, but it cant read topaz clean. If you want to achieve topaz clean in photopea, check this post out! just something i'd like to add in case people are new to all of this + dont use photoshop. Lastly, I want to say if you decide to edit photos on photopea, it does tend to crash if you upload a big number of photos and slows down. I usually upload like 6 or 8 and then save and repeat the process. Its kinda annoying, but ive been using photopea for a while now so im used to it. My mac users, use early-grapes butter action if you want things to look cleaner and less harsh!! + the other ps actions down below. I used these a lot when I was a mac user. Of course, that comes with extra steps, but I feel its worth it in the end.

I like these photoshop action packs bc theres tons of stuff in here that can help create a reshade like look:

intramoon's ps action dump

wooldawn's ps acton dump

smubuh's photoshop actions

early-grape's butter action

hazelminesims's ps actions

Templates!

I loveeeeeee templates so much!! theres so many out there to use for gameplay. It really adds more to gameplay posts! This can be dust/dirt, film burn, that cute camera template etc etc. templates are really fun to use and play around with~

I usually go on deviantart to find templates to use! if you want to check out my deviantart account you can find it here! I favorite a lot of things I can use for gameplay screenies.

Gifs

making gifs is cool because it brings the gameplay "to life" ~

EZgif is a free website that converts videos to gifs. You'll need a recording program like OBS (which is also free).

i like making gifs when i want to capture a (cute) moment (kisses, hugs, cooking etc etc). Its also cool to capture the weather in game like when its snowing or raining.

Little details

Some people really go all out on editing gameplay posts like adding hair strands and adding more details to sims faces (catchlights, tears, blushing, etc). You dont really have to do this, but I want to mention it anyways! I want to try doing this at some point because I enjoy editing my gameplay posts/photos in general and adding tiny details is fun to me lol. It adds realism to posts, but it isnt necessary!

Procreate is a really good program that you can get if you have an ipad. its 10$ and thats, that. You dont have to make any payments. You can also animate on procreate too if you're down for that!

Find inspiration in other simmers!

the sims community on tumblr is filled with such talented people! Theres lots of gameplay simmers who dont do your typical gameplay posts that you can check out and learn from!!! Ive always struggled with getting the right angles when taking screenies. I looked at other simmers and how they take screenshots & it was really helpful for me since I noticed I would take too many over the shoulder photos on my sims lol.

I think thats all the advice I have! I hope this was helpful and if you have any questions please send me an ask or dm! :D

[ahhhwomen]

Copycat

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Dark!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

A/N: Well here it is! The new and (hopefully) improved version of Copycat! The OG will not be removed btw, so don't worry if these changes aren't to your liking. Tbh I gave up editing this thing halfway, but I definitely think I improved it.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

Warnings: Ghostface, implied murder, knife play, humiliation, degradation, smut, so much smut, Mistress kink, Halloween, dub-con, Dom!Reader, Sub!Wanda, Wanda is a total bottom in this entire thing Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Halloween is around the corner, all you want is a calm night home alone… though it seems the universe can never give you a break. Or; Your phone rings with a mysterious number on the night of Halloween. What’s your favorite scary movie?

Word Count: 7.2k

You have always taken a liking to Halloween, but even you have to admit this year was turning out to be too much. Between the excessive amount of Halloween activities, decorations, and the new wanna-be Ghostface, it was starting to get to you.

Since the start of October, bodies have been turning up left and right, all with the same knife lacerations. All from the iconic Ghostface's choice of weapon.

Or a copy of it, anyway.

You snicker to yourself as you scroll past the multitude of outlandish articles trying to pinpoint why the town killer suddenly changed their routine after five years of dedicated Halloween night slaughters.

The screen is cold as your thumb glides against it, trying to escape the new narrative that the OG has gone off the rails, more so than the town of less than two thousand people can wrap their heads around.

If you thought like them, you would also be confused and terrified.

Yet-

You don’t have to be a genius to know it's a mere copycat.

For starters, a true killer would never change the storytelling of their kill within such a slim window, and even if they did, their true dedication would never change to such a drastic contrast as the recent kills showcased.

Whereas the real Ghostface would play with their victim and start off by only slicing nonthreatening veins in a close to surgical precision, this new imitator would finish them off by mere coincidence, there was no way for them to keep control over their victim´s lifespan with the rouge slashes that the news spoke of.

Whomever this copycat was, they were sloppy and attention-seeking.

The real Ghostface has been killing for over five years at this point, and still, they remain unknown.

This copycat will probably be busted before Halloween even takes place.

However, you would be lying if you said it didn’t concern you a bit; at least with the real Ghostface you knew when to expect havoc and you could take precautions to keep the ones you love safe.

A copycat is not as easy.

With keys in the form of pepper spray, you keep caution locked inside your heart, as you continue your trudge toward Wanda´s house.

The plastic canister rattles with every step, weighing down your right pocket as it slams against you. The frequency of each click changes depending on the asphalt, and as you step foot on the wooden porch it settles with one final clack against your midthigh.

With Halloween just around the corner, you have come to reiterate the tradition between yourself and the redhead. That tradition being to watch all your favorite horror movies the night before Halloween.

It started because you would both be busy, trick-or-treating and partying the night of and it would be a waste not to celebrate such a strange day with your favorite person.

Or, she would be busy trick-or-treating and partying, while you stayed at home worrying about her with your doors double locked and the porch lights off. You like Halloween, you just prefer to stay home and be comfortable, rather than to fit into a tight outfit and worry if too much or too little of your ass is showing. 

You ring the doorbell on Wanda's ridiculously decorated door and wait while the creepy plastic skeleton stares you down from where there would usually be a wreath.

You don’t have to wait long, and soon you can hear subtle footsteps close in on where your feet are planted to stained wood.

It's Mrs. Maximoff that opens. Her tone is gentle as she acknowledges you, “Hey Sweetie, Wanda is just in her room, go right ahead.”

She lets you in with a warm, welcoming smile and a pat on your shoulder. Her hand settles something within you that you can’t explain, and you smile back. You thank her and climb up the stairs of their expensive house.

You can’t help but feel more at home here than at your actual home as your fingers run along the intricate design in the stairs railing.

You like Mrs. Maximoff.

Ever since you were little you have been best friends with Wanda. When Wanda´s mother and father realized you were often alone as a child due to an absent father and an avoidant mother, they took you in and quickly became your pseudo-family.

You will always look up to Mrs. and Mr. Maximoff for their help and welcoming presence, but it was different with Wanda.

Her parents treated you as their daughter and you felt immensely grateful and happy to be a part of it, but Wanda has never been like a sister to you. Even when you were kids, she was always so much more to you, though as much as it breaks your heart, you can never tell her that.

You shake your thoughts off as you enter Wanda's bedroom to find her changing.

Your eyes kiss the back of your skull with how hard they roll from her antics. “I know you could hear me walking up and yet you still chose the last second possible to put your clothes on.”

The light from outside her ginormous window encapsulates her body perfectly as your eyes dance over the expanse of her stomach while you chuckle to yourself.

Wanda snickers as she pulls the hem of her t-shirt down, not all the way, she leaves a couple of inches ridding up her sides, just enough to tease you.

A sultry voice carries over the room and blesses your ears, “Well, I gotta give my little pervert a show, don’t I?” Wanda smiles with mirth and you return it.

This girl, you think to yourself.

Playing it cool you answer the way you usually do. “Pretty sure you are the pervert in this equation.” You say with a shrug.

It's now Wanda's turn to roll her eyes as she lays down, with a pat on the bed she signals for you to do the same.

“Potato potahto,” her light laugh floats around the room as you settle yourself beside her, you can’t help but lift your lips into a gentle smile as the redhead laughs to herself at her stupidity.

You missed her, you hung out just the other day, but you miss her on a deeper level.

It has been like this for a while, so you push it down as you stare up at the ceiling.

An array of pictures, posters, and drawings of the infamous Ghostface stare right back at you. One shift of your view and the very same can be said for every other surface within her room. From the ceiling to her desk to her bedside drawer, it’s all covered with different illustrations of the cold-blooded murderer.

Ever since that Halloween five years ago, Wanda has had a deep obsession with the Ghostface killer. An unhealthy obsession, you think to yourself as your eyes sone in to see a new replica of the Ghostface mask on Wanda's desk.

With a sigh, you look over at Wanda with disapproval at the new addition.

Wanda pretends not to see you.

You know to tread carefully around this subject, but you can’t help yourself and you lean up on your elbows and voice your disdain for her “hobby”.

“Wands, we talked about this.”

She pushes herself up on her elbows and slaps your arm gently. “It's not that bad,” she gives you her best puppy dog eyes, but you don’t budge.

“It's wrong that’s what it is, you can't simp over a real killer Wanda. It's not right” You can see irritation build in her delicate features as she thinks your words over.

“You are just jealous I am giving someone else attention.” She huffs. You know she doesn't mean it like that, but it stings when it’s put so bluntly. There is a hint of truth in what she says, but you ignore it.

“I am not jealous; you are just sick.” You say it in a lighthearted manner, but you can tell Wanda does not appreciate the call out.

“No, what is sick is what that dickhead would have done had Ghostface not killed him that night.” You have to agree with her on that part. So, you nod, but make sure to add a

“Still.”

Sensing that this is not the right time, you change the subject by asking what movie to start with.

“Same as always dumbass,” Wanda giggles as she gets up to retrieve her computer. Already set up with Friday the 13th.

A heavy sigh echoes throughout your empty home as you drag your hands down your face in frustration.

The night has dragged on for far too long. Kids and teenagers alike running up and down the streets for hours on end sure can piss you off.

You have been camping on your couch the entire night, making sure to keep the news on as you scroll through social media.

Wanda said she had some family over, so you don’t have to worry about her this year.

Which is a relief, you aren’t really in the mood for an extra adventure today anyway, it's been forever since you could just stay home the entire Halloween night.

Even so, unease has plagued you ever since the night started.

It's strange, the copycat and the original have not shown their face today. The night is almost over, but only party drama and yelling neighbors have been reported on. The original is one thing, but you were sure the copycat would take advantage of the night. Surely this build-up hasn't been for nothing?

You are almost disappointed.

In the mood for something to do you get around to making dinner, it may be the middle of the night, but like the nocturnal creature you are you don’t care either way. You never had a routine, not until you started hanging out at Wanda’s house, so some habits are hard to lose.

You are just finishing up with the dishes when your phone calls. The newly dried plate clatters as you put it down. You dry your hands with the kitchen towel, the material is rough and scratchy as your hands glide against it, then once your hands are fully dry you make your way over to the couch where your abounded phone lays.

Peering down at the metal thing you tilt your head in confusion.

The caller ID is unfamiliar. 

Usually, you wouldn’t bother picking up, but for some reason today was different. So, with an uncertain sigh, you shrug the chills that prickle your spine off and answer.

“Hello?”

Your brows furrow when silence hangs in the air. Just as you are about to hang up a deep voice answers.

“Hello, is Ms. y/l/n there?” You narrow your eyes as the voice questions you.

You don’t trust it; your mother always insists on people calling her by her first name.

You can't even remember the last time you heard someone call her by her last. It must be a work call then, maybe your mother mixed your numbers up. Something even more peculiar, you are not even sure she knows your number.

You right your posture and lean more heavily on your right foot, shifting your weight. Already suspicious, you make sure to answer vaguely.

Whomever they are, you aren’t interested in talking much more.

“No, I'm sorry. This is her daughter, I can give you her number if you would like?” You can hear a puff of laughter on the other end. Their tone unsettles you.

“Aah, so you must be y/n. I have heard quite a bit about you.” Your grip tightness against the offending object as the person on the other line lies to you. Your mother barely acknowledges your existence, and there is no way she talks about you.

Even family members have been blindsided when they heard your mother had a child. You were seven at the time.

Something is definitely off.

“Who is this?”

Now fully engaged in this mystery of a conversation you turn off the TV and leave the living room, intending to end this conversation swiftly, after getting some questions answered, and going to bed. Its only 1 a.m., but all the noise has been wearing you thin the entire day.

Again, there is a long silence before they answer.

“I'm your mom's friend.” They don’t add anything beyond that. You know they are lying; no one calls your mother by her last name if they are her friends. You are curious as to what they could want, however, so you keep the conversation going.

“Oh, really? What's your name?” You subconsciously cross your left arm over your right while holding the phone tightly to your ear.

“You can call me Mike.”

You blink, stopping in the middle of ascending the staircase.

“Mike?”

“Yes.”

You remove the phone from your ear and look at it briefly before answering.

“Mike is the only name you could think of? Really Wanda?”

You smirk, continuing your travels up the steep staircase and turning left toward your room as silence hangs between the two of you.

“…”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” Wanda avoids your question by asking her own.

You bite your lip; satisfied with yourself. You let the soft plush of your clean sheets engulf you as you lay down. Then, and only then, do you choose to entertain this mood of hers.

“SpongeBob” Wanda will find that reference hilarious, you were nine when she introduced the show to you. You had nightmares about that damn sponge for weeks, there was just something about him.

That’s why it takes you by surprise when the voice seems angered by your response.

“This is not the time for games!”

You agree, you are far too tired for these mind games so if this is how she wants to play this then fine.

“Fine, how about this? Who is your favorite killer?” You put extra flair of dramatics into your voice while you question her. The dramatized voice paired with trivia questions comes naturally to you after watching all types of trivia game night shows with Wanda throughout the years.

“I asked you first.” Childish.

“No, you asked me what my favorite horror movie is, I answered.” You thought it over, “Oh well I answered a show, but you get what I mean. Now I want you to answer my question.”

There was a tense rustling on the other end and stomping footsteps before it got silent, and the answer was a mere whisper. “Ghostface.”

Not very surprising. You smile to yourself as you roll over on your stomach and fiddle with your duvet. You wonder what she is up to.

“It's my turn now,” the deep voice darkened, “Why did Ghostface kill that boy five years ago?”

Your body tenses. You don’t like where this is going, so you play dumb. “How am I supposed to know?”

The voice gets louder. “Answer me!”

You feel yourself tighten a little at her tone, what is she getting at? “Look Wanda I don’t know what you want. I don’t know why Ghostface killed Vision.”

All background noise disappears from the call, you can’t even hear breathing. Then, a strained voice, like cat claws on a chalkboard, speaks up.

“Wrong answer.”

Before you can reply, the phone call ends.

You debate with yourself on whether or not to call Wanda, she usually plays some prank now and then, but this was something else.

You don’t have time to think about it before a knock can be heard on your front door. An unpleasant feeling pools in the bottom of your stomach as you try to ignore it. Plenty of children can’t take a hint and come here looking for candy, you rationalize with yourself.

You are just paranoid.

The knocking doesn't stop, however. You puff your chest before getting up and deciding to put an end to this. When you unlock and tear open the door, intending to give a stern talking to whatever kids were up so late, you are stunned at the lack of anyone.

You slam your door closed and lock it. Whomever they were, they were messing with you. Probably just some bored teens from your high school, or Wanda. Either way, if you didn’t react, they were sure to get bored.

As you head back upstairs the pieces of the puzzle take place.

The voice, Ghostface was known for using a voice box and calling their victims with stupid trivia questions. You knew this well, you just didn’t expect it to happen to you.

You are three steps up the stairs when you hear your door unlock.

You snap your head to the sound. Only three people have the keys to your house: yourself, your mother, and Wanda. You know Wanda likes her fun, but she wouldn’t take it this far.

The handle doesn't move. You wonder if you imagined it all together? No this isn’t right. You scan your surroundings before going back to the door.

Sure enough, both locks were undone.

“Enough!” You hate to admit it, but you were getting nervous.

“Whoever the fuck you are, fuck off!”

You can hear your phone go off in your room, “Damn it,” you curse yourself for never taking it with you as you again lock the door. The cold metal does little to settle you as you triple-check that you indeed have locked the door.

Then, taking a glass from the kitchen, you rigg it up on the front door handle. Some kids don’t know when they have taken it too far, so you have to make sure to be one step ahead.

Like always.

You walk deadly silent as you go to get your phone, now that you have finally caught on, you have no doubt of what game will start once you pick up the phone.

You are being hunted.

Despite the consequences, when you see the lit up screen atop your duvet, you don’t hesitate. You slide your thumb over the screen, picking up the call.

All the while, you keep moving.

“What do you want?”

The voice sounds rough and excited. “Me? I am just trying to get someone's attention.”

Go figure. The one Halloween you just wanted to spend in peace the damn copycat has to target you.

“Right. The infamous copycat is it? So is it like a kink or..?”

You are standing in your kitchen now, if they want to play, you’ll play.

You tighten your hands into fits as you anticipate the comeback.

“Cheeky. No, I am just trying to prove a theory.” This bitch.

You can hear heavy breathing on the other end like they are running… Or have just stopped.

You grab the strongest knife in your drawer. Then you put it back.

It’s a risky move you know, but you also know that no one ever thinks of the back door leading into the woods and it's safer for you to run than fight.

At least for now.

Besides, what’s the fun of ending it this early?

“And what do I have to do with this theory?” You chew your lip in annoyance as you lean your body weight forward. Ready to bounce any second now.

“You don’t, you are just an easy target.” This absolute fucking bitch.

“What theory is it that you are trying to prove? Trying to test Ghostface's ability to kill or something? There can only be one or whatever?” You try to keep calm, but you can hear your own voice echo on their side, you sound pathetic, with your breathing fast and escalating by the second.

“Don’t be jealous, this will be over soon.” They have no idea.

The glass shatters and you run.

You don’t even think about it, you dash straight out the back door and into the thick forest surrounding your home.

It doesn’t take long before you can hear them close behind.

The voice box activates. “There is no point in running!”

Truly an amateur, everyone knows running will be your safest bet when you don’t have a weapon. Fighting should always be the last resort when you are inferior to the killer. It's basic movie logic.

You run until you see it. Your safe haven.

The shed.

The shed creaks open and slams shut as you barricade the door. You have been trying to hold it together all night, but now that you stand there surrounded by your darkest secret and seconds away from revealing it to the psycho copycat, you can't help it.

You are getting excited.

It's been ages since you got to play, and there is no need to run now. They are about to enter your territory; they will be inferior.

You have just finished getting ready when you hear the door kick in. Just as expected the killer stops as soon as they take in their surroundings.

Got you.

The copycat threads carefully, the shed is unexpected. Unfaired territory, filled with… Filled with Ghostface?

The shed is a rundown, abandoned, shit box the copycat has never seen anyone use. Yet here it stands, filled to the brim with every crime and murder Ghostface has ever committed.

As their eyes glide over the various papers and pictures strewn about, they are riddled with confusion. Everything is written in more detail than what they could ever put together themselves. They have read all the pieces of information out there, yet they don’t even know half of the scribbled and planned murders that litter the walls and table.

It only takes a moment for it to set in.

They just walked into the fucking lion's den.

And you will show no mercy.

The copycat freezes as a voice rings through the still air.

“Don’t look so disappointed. You are getting what you want, aren’t you?”

It’s delicious really, the way you stalk your prey as they flail their head around trying to locate you in the dark shed. Your infamous knife is strongly gripped in your right hand, then with a deliberate creak of wood beneath your feet the copycat wooshes their body toward you.

As your eyes connect, they start walking backward, startled by your closeness.

Their knife drops to the ground as you trudge forward. God, there is nothing quite like the sight of them shivering beneath their poorly made mask.

A mask you have most definitely seen before.

They walk straight into your little homemade table and you take the advantage to press your body into theirs. Your masks; almost touching.

“Tell me,” you raise your hands to their covered face. Slowly peeling the mask off as you continue. “What theory was it you wanted to prove? Hm?”

Just as red hair reveals itself a hand takes hold of your wrist to stop you from going any farther. That’s fine by you, you know they didn’t realize when you deactivated the voice box.

Nagging them on you continue, “Don’t leave me hanging, what do you want to know? I might just answer it before I cut your pretty tongue out.” You hold the knife up to their face before slowly dragging it down the mouth of their mask and leaving it just under their jaw.

Wanda's meek voice responds.

“I- I I didn’t mean too- too-“

You mock her “too- too-?” “Spit it out pretty girl.” You dig the knife in, just a little.

Too lost in the situation, Wanda hasn't caught onto her voice filling the room.

“Why do you keep killing for me?” So, the age-old question is finally voiced out loud.

You smile beneath your mask. You consider lying, but it's Wanda.

“Because I can.”

Truth be told, it started when you saw the football jock Vision put his hands on Wanda five years ago at a random Halloween party. After that night it evolved.

It just feels right to kill for the things you love.

You don’t let Wanda query anymore, taking hold of her mask you rip it off, revealing her tear-stained cheeks and scared eyes. You have to resist digging the knife in harder, yet it still digs minuscule more. Just enough for one drop.

A single drop of blood that slides onto your gloved finger.

Your eyes snap toward the red drop as it disappears against your black glove, as the dampness against your finger hits you, you can’t resist anymore.

Wanda lets out a squeak as you push her onto the table. Your knife never leaving her pale skin. Using your weight against her to keep her compliant, you straddle her. Leaning closer to her, you force eye contact by pulling her hair just right.

You want her to look at you. You want her to see you the way she did when you killed that pathetic football jock.

Wanda is not one to disappoint, her blown pupils are a window to exactly what you want.

Her feelings are on clear display; she is scared, yet deeply aroused.

Your gloved hand drags the tip of your knife down her body until you are hovering over her covered breasts. With your left hand, you clutch the fabric of her gown, cutting it open with the knife held in your right. Wanda whines as she squirms to get away from you.

You laugh at her pathetic little sounds as you forcefully grab her by the chin.

You lift your mask, only enough for your mouth to be seen, and you press your lips against Wanda´s quivering ones. She only resists for a moment, and then a delectable moan vibrates against you.

You return it when you push your tongue into her sweet, hot, mouth. You swirl your tongue around while your hands rip open her outfit. You let your hands glide and grope as they please and soon you feel her bra-clad breasts heavy in your hands. You let the knife slice her bra like butter.

You break the kiss to give your full attention to the sinful heaven exposed in front of you. Wanda turns her head away from you as she catches her breath, you let her. The only thought occupying your mind is how you will destroy her so sweetly tonight.

After keeping yourself at bay for so long, there is only so much you can do when she whorishly seeks you out. And in such a rude manner too. She was using you to get to, well you, but she didn’t know that. A punishment needs to be set in place; one you will have no regret enforcing.

You settle your mask back in place as you stand and move away from the poor birdy.

She looks up in confusion and disappointment when you go.

Picking up Wanda’s knife and walking over to an armchair nestled in the corner of your den Wanda struggles to sit up as her chest heaves with each manual breath, uncertain of what you want, as you study her from your corner.

You point her knife towards the open door. “Close it.”

Unsurprisingly, Wanda hesitates before complying. You tsk in disapproval, Wanda moves just a tiny bit faster at the sound. It's flimsy, the way she has to wobble her way over as her shredded clothes gather just before her thighs.

After it's properly closed you instruct Wanda to lock it using the plank you point out. This time she does it in a timelier manner.

After it's done she takes a timid step towards you and you nod in approval.

However, when the redhead tries removing your mask you take ahold of her wrist and bend it until she yelps in pain. The surge of power and arousal that shoots through you almost makes you lose your calm, but you soldier on.

Your gaze remains unfaced as she sniffles in pain. “You don’t get to touch me.” You say as a matter of fact.

“Why not,” tears gleam in the redhead’s eyes as she whines.

“Because only good girls get to touch their Mistress.” Wanda whimpers at your words. Her knees buckle and her nipples harden. You put the knives between the cushions of the rough chair.

You will need both of your hands for this.

As she stands there you can't help but admire her. She looks just the way you imagined she would. Her frame is perfection, even with her clothes hanging off her and tear stains gleaming on her flushed cheeks. You want to eat her up. But first, her punishment.

You act unbothered as you command her.

“Kneel.” Wanda’s eyes widen as her desperation dampens her underwear.

There is a dull thud as Wanda’s knees connect with the water-damaged wood planks. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from singing her praise for such a simple task, but you can’t help it when you automatically pet her hair gently in reward.

You think of all the times you dreamed of holding her like the pet she is. Your palm smoothes her hair down while you mule over how long it's been since you had a good orgasm. When she´s putty beneath you, you grab a fist full of red tresses and roughly pull her closer to your crotch.

Taking the hint Wanda lifts your dark gown and gasps at the lack of underwear. It's cute that she convinced herself you believed the copycat was anyone but her. This punishment has been long in the planning.

You push more intently on her. “Don’t stop now. Be a good whore and mistress may give you a reward.”

You are glad you kept the mask on as you drool looking down at her while she gets to work. She’s so tiny and irrelevant, one calculated squeeze and you can have her begging for her life while she eats you out. The power imbalance is almost enough to make you cum before Wanda can put her talents to use.

When Wanda's hot mouth makes contact with your folds, sucking and teasing you, you have half the mind to tie her down and force her to watch while you fuck yourself with your fingers. However, you can't resist her when she finally sucks your clit into her keen, wet, fuck-hole.

You wonder if she has done this before as it only takes a minute for your eyes to roll into your skull. Jealousy takes hold of you at the thought.

Pushing the redhead away from yourself, sooner than she can get a word out, you lay her onto her back on the cold floor and straddle her face. Wanda goes to grab your hips, but you force her down. Holding her wrists over her head you instruct her to stay still.

You can’t help but tease her by riding the air just higher than what Wanda's greedy tongue can reach. You drag your body slowly back and forth sensually, making sure to let some breathy moans and groans rile her up.

“I thought I told you to be good.” You tighten the grip around her wrists in warning.

Wanda, who had been slowly trying to lean upward, lowers herself. She is smart enough to act remorseful, you decide to let it go this once. Far more concerned with satisfying your thirst you take your seat right on Wanda’s waiting mouth.

Wanda makes the jealousy easier as she moans loudly into your pussy while pushing her tongue against your hard clit. It's erotic the way Wanda’s hips buck aimlessly while your juices drip down her chin.

The harsh oak makes your knees sting and you can only imagine how Wanda's back must feel. Of course, Wanda is too far gone, she’s moaning and rocking against the air with her eyes closed.

With this small turn of events, your punishment needs an adjustment.

So, you improvise. Originally you were going to make her fuck you until you ran out of cum. However, being on the floor may prove to make that difficult.

The jingle of the whore’s boobs, whilst she tries humping anything she can get between her legs, does give you an idea.

Leaning back you mindlessly search the chair. When your hand connects with the handle of a familiar steel knife you grab on. Keeping it behind your back so as to not let the redhead get a peak. You doubt she can see it even if she wants to, too deep in your cunt for her to see anything. Besides, she has her eyes closed as a bead of sweat runs down her forehead.

She continues lapping up your wetness like a dog, none the wiser as you debate on whether or not to hold the knife against her jugular. Reflecting over it, she has been good, so you keep the knife behind you.

If only to use it if she misbehaves.

Misbehaving seems to be the last thing on her mind however, she is devouring your pussy like it’s the last meal on earth. When she introduces her nose into the mix, bumping it into your clit while you ride her tongue, white-hot pleasure runs through you.

Sounds, like you have never heard yourself make, escape before you even think to stop them. Your toes are close to curling and tension tightens in your lower back. Yet you rearrange yourself away from the redhead's hungry mouth, now is not the time.

After Wanda finishes gasping for air that you hadn’t allowed her, her eyes fly open at the lack of your taste.

You stand over her.

Scrunching her eyebrows together, the redhead whines in confusion, but you ignore her in favor of fixing your outfit. Like the good girl you know she is, Wanda stays in place. All fight evaporated as soon as you touched her. You can’t help but scoff at how easy she is.

She looks like a bitch in heat, panting and twitching as you stand over her with your knife gripped like a phyton.

You tilt your head. The torn rags still holding on by a thread annoy you. “Take your clothes off.”

Wanda's eyes lack any thought as she heeds to your every whim.

She removes the cheap outfit slowly, pushing it off her shoulders and down her waist, over her ass, and past her legs. She removes her ruined bra next, sliding it off each arm and letting it fall into a heap beside her.

You sneer at her disobedience.

“All of it.” You accompany the words with a snap of your fingers.

There is a long silence while the demand sinks into her empty head. Then like lighting, Wanda takes off her soaked underwear.

She trembles as you leisurely walk around her, tapping the knife in a set rhythm against your hand.

You soak in her completely nude and vulnerable frame.

Just how you like her.

Stopping in front of Wanda´s open legs. Her body is begging for you to touch her, she is heaving, drooling, desperate. And you have no plan on soothing it.

Ever since you were younger Wanda has always been a particularly touchy person, she needs human touch to function. Without it, she can't do certain things. Like how she refuses to take a walk unless you hold her hand, and how you can see her struggle to get up and shower if you don’t promise cuddles after.

That’s why when you found her little devious plan three months ago you decided the only punishment fit for a sadist like her would be to remove all sense of touch. Deprive her of the one thing she needs to cum, your touch.

You return to your chair, mask back in place, knife tightly gripped.

“Touch yourself.”

Wanda swallows thickly as she watches you beneath heavy lids before nodding to herself.

You have seen the way, Wanda slowly gathers her wetness and spreads it around her libido while her breath turns shallow, many times. You can’t count how many times you silently sneaked into her bedroom, always mindful of what floorboards would give you away.

You have seen the way she struggles when she gets close. So close, yet so far away. Alone and desperate.

This is different, this time she is doing it for you and only you.

Wanda never breaks eye contact through the black mesh of your mask. It's only when she pinches her clit that her head gets thrown back and a prolonged moan emits from her that she can’t keep her act up. She is close, but if you play your cards right, she won’t be going over.

You dig the knife into the armrest and swirl it back and forth, fiddling like you're bored.

Wanda’s eyes burn holes in your mask as she studies you from where she sits just a few feet away, but you overlook her.

Wanda, very much, does not like this newfound disinterest you have in her. She speeds up her fingers, moving them clockwise and pressing down hard. Every time she tries to get your attention by moaning louder or trying to press her foot into your boot you tune her out and move away.

Just as you thought, when the redhead’s orgasm approaches, she struggles. Her moans of pleasure turn into whines of frustration, and you don’t look at her. You keep your focus on the knife. This is where the real punishment starts, one mistake from you and you know she will have no issue falling over the edge and screaming her pleasure for the entire world to hear.

No, you will make her suffer, if only a little.

After all the running you have had to do tonight you are making sure she will be left breathless and exhausted before an orgasm is in order.

For ten minutes you distract yourself, for ten minutes Wanda balances painfully on the edge of pleasure.

You only take pity on her when she taps the floor twice.

Raising your eyes you see Wanda with fresh tear tracks running down her cheeks while her fingers work overtime trying to move faster than you have ever seen them move before. You have to hold back a moan at the sight.

You stand slowly, dragging every movement out. Wanda stares wide-eyed and hopeful as she cries from the pain and pleasure. You make your way between spread legs and crouth down to her eye level. Lifting her chin with the tip of your knife, she stops her movements.

Good.

You know you have her attention now.

Without uttering a word, you remove your mask with your unoccupied hand.

As soon as your face is free of its confinement and Wanda sees you in all your mad beauty, a moan so deep and sonorous it leaves her dumbfounded, fills the damp air.

While she is distracted by the new sound, she can make, you hold eye contact and leave the knife in place. Without looking, you reach down and pinch her neglected clit so hard she screams.

She comes so hard she sees stars.

Wanda is a heap of moans and whines as your gloved fingers pet her folds and clit gently, bringing her down, it takes multiple minutes before her vision returns.

When she gets back to herself you are lying on top of her and petting her sides. She doesn't even realize she is crying until you carefully wipe her tears away while praising her.

“There you go, baby.”

“It's okay, you did so well.”

“Mistress is very proud of you.”

“Just breathe for me, honey.”

“That’s it honey, good job.” You sooth her while she gathers herself. She came for a full three minutes before she promptly passed out. As worried as you were in the moment, you have to admit you are a little proud of yourself.

That is definitely the hardest you have ever seen her cum.

After a while, you can hear her mumble something.

“What’s that baby?”

Wanda, in a surprising turn of events, locks you against her chest and flips you both. You blink up at her as she giggles from your tense reaction.

“Sorry,” you watch her giggle to herself, and you know for a fact she is not sorry, “I couldn’t help it, you just look so cute when you are surprised.”

You grin with her, but you also grab the knife beside you and lift it to her neck. She quickly stops laughing, but she isn’t scared. Not anymore.

“Behave, don’t forget who´s in charge here.” You fix her with a stern glance.

Wanda deflates a little, but her hands never leave you. She trails her hands up and down your body, groping everything she can. You dig the knife deep enough to where she has to stay still if she wants to keep her vocal cords.

Wanda mewls, “please.”

You roll your eyes at her. “Please what?”

“Please can I touch you, Mistress?”

You smirk, “You are touching me.” The disappointment rolls off Wanda in waves, but she knows what she needs to do.

Not wanting to actually hurt the redhead you had loosened your pressure without realizing it, Wanda uses that to her advantage.

The deviant redhead swiftly moves your hand out of her way to attack your mouth with a round of kisses. She then pushes her tongue in and swirls it teasingly around yours. You moan into her as she grinds her leg against your covered clit.

You let this go on until you need her inside you.

Clutching the fine hairs at the back of her neck you tear her away from yourself. You tighten until she wheezes, then you speak.

“If you ever disobey me like this again I will tie you down with a vibrator and leave you like that for hours. Do you understand me?” The redhead nods as best as she can.

You let go of her neck only to grab her hair again. You stand, dragging her with you. “Sit.” You point at the chair as you let go.

Wanda obediently listens without defiance this time.

“You are lucky,” you tell her as you straddle her thighs.

“If I wasn’t in the mood for an orgasm I would have you over my knee now.” You grind into her lap as you speak. This time when Wanda goes to grab you, you let her.

Wanda controls your hips as you pound yourself into her lap. She is more than eager to comply when you command her to put a finger in.

You ride her until you can't take it anymore and reach down to draw tight circles over your forgotten clit.

You cum so fast it almost gives you whiplash. Wanda moans with you as clear liquid coats her hand.

You both fall into an exhausted pile of post-orgasm bliss as you settle. Wanda cuddles into you and you lean your chin atop her head. She nuzzles into your neck and sighs with satisfaction.

You are half-dosing when a giggle abrupts from the girl in your arms. You look down at her with a confused tilt to your head. Wanda is already grinning up at you.

“Same time next year?” You laugh at your girlfriend of six years and nod while kissing her sweaty forehead.

“Same time next year.”

[onlyseokmins]

needy • j.w.w.

Pairing: jeon wonwoo x afab!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), established relationship!au

Warnings: swearing, teasing, dirty talk, unrealistic amt of orgasms heh, male masturbation, mentions of car sex, fingering (fem. receiving), phone sex but not like you think, messy oral (fem. receiving), safe sex 🫡, wonu's a bit of a perv tbh and reader loves puts up w/ it, mentions of children but not like really lmao, mentions of (cock)roaches, wonu in glasses and needy = double kill imho, ft. some of the boys being intrusive tbh haha, POSSESSION, and a good amt of noisy sex hahah lmk if i missed anything!

WC: 4.9k

A/N: well it's finally my first wonu fic :3 after hoarding so many in the drafts bc I always feel like I can't write him too well, I had to take the plunge since it's a dear request from my lovely @wonuhour ❤️ I really hope you enjoy this 🤞🏼 no taglist as this is a request so I hope y'all read this but sending some love to my fav wonwoorideul @wonwussy bc she said I could tag her mwah. I think I held my head 5 times while editing this haha...

It's late when you step out into the night's cool air, a sigh of relief at finally being freed from the corporate building where you work. Pulling out your phone from the bag slung across your shoulder, your face lights up just like the screen when you focus on two distinct notifications on it.

1 missed call — hubby ♡

1 new voicemail — hubby ♡

"Hey, baby. You're probably dealing with those idiots right now but by the time you're listening to this, you should be on your way back home to me."

Wonwoo's deep voice is always so soothing, filling your body with inexplicably warm, fuzzy feelings that trail from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. The knowledge that he pays attention to even the minute details you think he might not care about in trivial, daily conversations or complaints makes your heart flutter with joy. 

Your husband has always had that effect on you. He's aware you aren't able to pick up and it's not like he expects you to do so. Wonwoo simply leaves a voice message, knowing it will provide you comfort on your walk to the car and subsequent drive home until you can seek real solace in his embrace.

And maybe — just maybe — he calls to simply hear your pretty voice that plays on the answering machine because he misses you during your long shift. The embarrassed giggle when you mess up and stumble across your words during the recording. Never bothering to go back to change or fix it because it makes the corners of Wonwoo's mouth perk up, breaking his usual stoic expression. At least according to what Mingyu's let slip.

Which is hilarious in and of itself because your husband is anything but poker face when in your presence. His friends tease, saying he's become a different man because of you — following you around and acting like a lovesick puppy rather than his normal, self-acclaimed dignified cat persona. But you deny it. He's always been the same person with you and maybe that's just because you're meant to be.

"Be safe on your way home. Remember to lock the doors when you're inside, although I know you will 'cause how many times have you accidentally locked me out when you've beat me back to the car first?" He lets out a strangely breathy laugh, one that you mimic in fondness at the past memory and simply of him, doing exactly as he says as you shut the driver seat's door. "Miss you so, so much today. Even more than usual, baby. 'specially that sweet pussy of yours."

Nothing — not even Mingyu's weird trait of being privy and somehow knowing or aware of way too much in your relationship — could have prepared you for those words. You're extremely grateful you're inside your car right now. Not fearing other people overhearing but because you would've collapsed right on the sidewalk in public. Victim to your husband's seductive desperation.

"Can't stop thinking 'bout it. How pretty it looks, how good you taste, how perfect you always feel wrapped around me."

Your head falls back against the headrest, the hand holding your phone drops onto your thigh, and your mouth and eyes widen together in awe. The wireless buds fit snugly inside your ears allow you to pick up on the underlying slick sounds as he speaks. Your mouth waters, a sweep of electrifying energy causing the hairs on your arms to raise.

Fuck. He's stroking that gorgeous thick cock of his. Because he yearns so much for you.

"'round my fingers, my dick, my tongue… so soft and wet and tight… mhm, oh god — what a messy little thing. And your lips too, wanna kiss you so bad. For hours, non-stop."

People like to make assumptions about your relationship. Things like how Wonwoo must be the calm and collected one, the domineering and composed person within your dynamics. It's annoying but you can't really blame them — it's human nature after all. While they aren't entirely wrong, it's not like they're right either.

On the occasions when your husband's lust for you outweighs his level-headedness, he loses all reason. Not above begging, whining, or babbling nonsense, his neediness becomes next level. You're so caught up in thinking about the exact man you're supposed to be listening to, you realize you've nearly missed most of the words he's spouting in his gravelly voice. You rewind the playback.

"… to stop thinkin' 'bout it or I'll want you even more. Wanna ruin you. Destroy you. Worship you. Ah… you're in your car, aren't you love? Please tell me you are, 'member when I slipped a finger inside last week on our way home from the mall? Then two. Then three. Had to make sure my pretty baby's pussy was stuffed nice and full. It's what you deserve, after all." 

His lazy drawl and filthy words make your thighs clench. He knows it too. "Bet you're squeezing those luscious legs of yours together… ah, what I wouldn't give to have them around me instead…" A laugh again, almost a wheeze, like the air's being sucked out of his lungs at the thought. Many thoughts. "Made such a mess that day… hngh, almost wrecked the car over how wrecked you were, baby."

You glance at the empty passenger seat out of the corner of your eye. Almost shamefully, like a curious nun side-eyes a sinner sitting in church. Wonwoo's skillful and long, bony fingers buried inside your cunt — to no surprise — had you a writhing mess, an insane orgasm ripped from your body. You were afraid the upholstery was ruined because of it, the car still smelling like sex and preventing you from offering your sulky neighbor Seungcheol a lift this week.

"Bastard," you mutter affectionately and roll your eyes at your next statement, pretending as if he can hear you. "Like you weren't just as wrecked that I had to suck you off as soon as we parked and then rushed inside since you didn't wanna cum in my mouth."

"Ahhhhh, shoot…!"

As if he can hear your words, a particularly loud moan followed by a string of curses falls out of your husband's mouth. You are just able to hear the sped up sounds of him rutting more urgently against his palm. The visual of his large hands looking much smaller when wrapped around his huge cock floods your mind, wondering if he's tightened his grasp to better resemble it to drilling deep inside of your warmth instead of his hand. Eyebrows creasing together, biting down on his bottom lip before his mouth opens again in another moan that fills your ears at the right time.

The familiar creak of his home office chair causes a devious smirk to grace your face. He hasn't realized in his lust-driven state that he'd given away how desperate he really was to be fucking into his fist between freelance projects. More than likely frustrated when something wasn't encoding right after hours of staring at the screen but it was most probable that Wonwoo was simply down bad. 

Achingly missing his partner when you weren't around to rub his shoulders, bring him some tea, lighten up the mood with a bad joke, or even try and help point out a possible error with a fresh set of eyes. Even nicer, sit on his lap all pretty to keep his cock all warm and coated in wetness or get on your knees beneath his desk and try to keep quiet while you take him down your throat.

You were always a bit on the noisy side. Even now, you can't help but let out a whimper at how uncomfortable your nipples feel poking against your bra. Dampening your panties, poor clit already puffy and throbbing unstimulated.

The Wonwoo in your imagination has his head thrown back, throat presented prettily that you wish you could actually mark up. In-tune with what he sounds like when he's about to come undone, you listen intently to your husband's stifled groans and harsh pants in anticipation. Holding your breath, hoping he's so lost in bliss that he won't leave you hanging.

Like a lifeline, a muttered "fuck, baby," as if he's really right there with you in the car as his deep moan fills your ears just like it does in-person. Imaginary Wonwoo drops his head back down and the hungry look in his dark brown eyes causes your hips to involuntarily twitch, thighs trembling. Shockingly, you don't orgasm from that alone but you sure as hell were on the brink of doing so.

For a finale, your husband stays on the line while he catches his breath and your dirty mind wanders once more. Hard not to when you hear the wet sounds of his hand still rubbing his cock. A whimper of "hm, just like that," and a hiss because he's sensitive makes your head spin, cunt clenching sadly around nothing. A sob practically leaves your chest at the absolute want to milk him dry just as he wishes at that moment.

"Miss you so much. Need to eat out my precious baby. Mhm, I just know that sopping cunt is begging for me to lick it up…"

The scratch of tissues being pulled out of their holder is enough of an attempt to tug you out of the foggy cloud of lust. You lick your lips.

"… so come and hurry home safely, love."

You do — so close to cumming untouched — but you stave off the feeling, speeding home somehow without crashing. For all your car has put up with, you're honestly surprised it hasn't given out on you in revenge. But that's neither here nor there at the moment, stumbling out of the vehicle once you arrive home and scrambling faster than a marathon-runner to get inside.

It would be a lie to say you weren't disappointed with how quiet and dark it is. Quietly setting your bag down, you stand with your back pressed against the front door. Almost expecting your husband to appear out of the shadows and pounce on you.

It's happened before. You can proudly declare with your whole chest that you've fucked on every surface of this lovely little house purchased in the third year of your marriage.

Instead, something brushes against your leg and you bend down to pick up your daughter. She hangs pliantly as you gently wiggle her and whisper, "Where's your daddy?"

The cat replies with a plaintive meow. You smile when she twitches her tail, stalking off towards the direction of the living room. Wonwoo likes to teasingly say she takes after you with a distinct cat-titude despite the fact that he naturally happens to be the more dedicated caretaker between the two of you. Mingyu was always needlessly curious which one of you another cat would take after — or worse, if you had actual children.

That wouldn't happen for quite a bit, trailing behind the true ruler of the household and watching as she climbs up onto her expensive cat-tree to sulk. Wonwoo must not have given her enough attention today. Demonstrated by the angry way she squints toward the open doorway of the study illuminated by the blue glow of your husband's computer.

"Daddy's in rare form today," you try and explain, rubbing in between her ears and she purrs in response. "Don't worry, Mommy will go and fix him so he ultra dotes on you like the little princess he thinks you are." 

You make a kissy face in her direction because she is a precious royalty. Then you're approaching the study where deep grunts and muttered curses can be heard among a furious clacking of keyboard keys.

"On your left — no, Mingyu… your other left!"

Crossing your arms, you pout. You'd be lying if gamer Wonwoo wasn't unfairly attractive — jawline clenched as he barks out orders into his headset, the computer screen graphics reflecting off his glasses. A stark contrast to the ratty hoodie and old man slippers he's wearing, angrily slapping his feet on the ground when Seokmin accidentally pressed the wrong button and self-destructs.

You're glad he's blowing off some steam and stress with the boys. Though you had once asked why he didn't bother watching porn on his expensive and impressive set-up. Flattered when he admitted that having you as the real deal beat anything he could ever try to search for.

Now you're not as sure, though. He seems rather content and preoccupied after working you all up with that damn voicemail of his. With a flounce, you turn to head to the shower as your husband rages over Chan mistakenly shooting at the wrong team. Meeting a feline gaze on the way to the bathroom that shares your same sentiment of disdain.

Sticky, ruined panties cause a glare and another pout to adorn your face once the water is turned on to heat up. One Wonwoo might find cute. If he could see it. You nearly jump out of your skin when there's a knock on the door, so soft it almost sounds like a bump.

A certain kitty often bangs against doors just to startle her owners but she's also good at opening them too. When it remains shut and you hear a low call of your name rather than spooky silence, a pleading meow, or it flying open, you let out a breath of relief. Trying not to appear too eager, you crack the door open just enough to narrow one eye at your husband.

"Hi, baby."

"Hey."

Long gone is his cozy hoodie, though his black sweatpants remain on. Displaying lean, upper body muscles to ogle and pert nipples that could poke you in the eyeball with how near he is. Pushing up his glasses, he raises his eyebrows when you don't make an effort to move.

"You don't normally knock."

"I wasn't sure if it was you or our little mischief maker in here." 

"Uh-huh, and who says I'm not mischievous as well?" You turn around but leave the door ajar and he takes that as an invitation to come in.

"No one's ever said you weren't," Wonwoo reassures but frowns, "no welcome home kiss?"

"You know, little miss mischief maker seemed pretty miffed, did daddy not pay enough attention to her today? That's unlike you."

"Mhm, was busier than I thought today. Had a lot on my mind… work and all that. Absolutely drowning in it."

"Is that so? She seems pretty upset so be sure you make it up to her." 

It's like a cat-and-mouse game, though who's who is really the question. Maybe you're both cats in a stand-off. You know Wonwoo would never not truly attend to your beloved pet. You fight back a smirk, able to feel his heated gaze trail down your back and focus on your ass that you jut out on purpose to check the water temperature. A rush of fresh arousal surges through your system.

"Yeah?" Your husband's hand shoots out past yours to turn the shower off, ignoring your protest. "I think I upset another kitten too." Spinning you around so his damp thumb can pull at your bottom lip as you flutter your eyelashes at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a cat. And I'm most certainly not upset."

He pecks at your lips almost condescendingly. "Sure, baby. You shouldn't be, you know, with the nice present I left for your pleasure after work."

You let out an elated sigh as he holds your face still and peppers kisses all over, trailing down to focus on your neck so you can speak. "If that's your idea of a nice gift, I'd hate to see what a bad one is."

"You didn't like it?" Somehow Wonwoo's eyes manage to sparkle when he looks up at you with a whine, pausing his kisses down the valley between your breasts. His other hand sneakily reaches in between your legs and he smiles against your skin. "Or did you like it too much? Don't think I've ever gotten you a bad gift, baby."

Slender fingers play with your messy wetness, sliding back and forth languidly without rush. You struggle to clear your mind to ask with sarcasm, "Wh-what about that st-stupid cockroach plushie?"

"It was cute. Just like you."

"That's it, I'm getting a shower."

"I don't think so." Wonwoo's free hand flies to splay out on your back, preventing you from moving and pressing your body even closer to his.

You purse your lips, brown eyes locking in on them immediately. "You think I'm on the same level as cockroaches."

"Only like the super cute, not-real ones." 

"…We're filing for divorce right after I clean up."

"Mhm, but I'm not done with you yet so it'd be a waste of water. Besides, you hate showering together."

You can't help but grind down against his stationary palm, wishing he'd just slip a finger inside. "Because… no one's getting clean… if you're in there with me."

"Exactly," he's entranced by how much of your arousal continues to coat his hand. Cock twitching with the ache to be where his fingers are instead. "You know the drill, baby. Besides, I'm aware of how much you like it when I'm wearing my glasses."

"Wonwoo…"

He hushes your moan with a smirk and another kiss to your irresistible lips. "Yeah, lovely. It's okay, I'll give you what you want. And what I want too."

Surely, you would've bashed your head open on the tile floors had it not been for the support of the countertop you'd braced your palm on. Legs as shaky as a newborn fawn with how long you've been buzzing with desire. Especially when your husband backs away to withdraw his hand, ravenously slurping up your essence with a blissed out face. An appreciative, low grunt as he licked his fingers clean, dark gaze not straying away from your naked body before him.

"Shouldn't have done the laundry, silly baby. How else am I supposed to control myself without any sort of relief to get me through the day?"

Your jaw drops. "Pervert!"

"Know you like it." He ignores the light slap to his shoulder that bears no malice, finding zero resistance when he tugs you by the hand to drag you into the bedroom. "You love when I'm this desperate for you. Can't get anything done, can't think of anything else… all you, you, and you. And this greedy pussy."

Your back's resting on the mattress before you can blink. Wonwoo sits and parts your legs, taking in the delectable sight of your puffy cunt that spreads open to seep more arousal. Asking to be taken care of and filled.

"Just look at it, how could I not desire it every moment of the day?" A kiss is pressed against your left ankle. "When it's just as perfect as you?" Another to the side of your knee cap. "And so fuckin' addictive." He switches to the right to suck the skin on your thigh. "Absoluting begging to be filled up so prettily whenever I want." 

It's a mix between a scream and groan of frustration that leaves your throat when your husband lightly smooches right above your hip crease before licking the salt off your skin. He's so close to where you want him and he grins at your patient façade slowly slipping. His tongue pokes out, just grazing the left side of your pussy. 

"Wonwoo…!" 

He is rarely this talkative, either he truly missed you or this is a new form of torture.

A pointer finger taps your pubic bone and drags downward, lifting away before it hits your clit. "And all mine," he growls out before devouring your cunt like you want.

Your husband eats you out like a starved man. Ravenous in all the best ways. Your hips can't help but jerk in time with the movements of his tongue lapping at your inner walls and cleaning up the gracious amounts of slick you've created. Whines leaving your mouth at how good it feels, fingers anxiously threading through his curls and making them even messier. Your legs wrap around his neck as you somehow bring his head even closer to drown inside your scent, your taste, and your wet heat.

Wonwoo revels in it.

Normally, he would have more control. More strictness, more fortitude. But he's so far gone, appreciative growls that could rival the best-selling vibrator on the market shake you to your very core. The frames of his glasses dig into your thighs but you don't even feel them with the intense amount of pleasure from Wonwoo's thumb playing with your clit. His nose occasionally adds to the mind-dumbing feeling by nuzzling against it when he shakes his head with vigor.

You have no choice but to hurdle towards a fast orgasm like a dam breaking. Unintentionally locking his neck in a position that might've snapped it if his face wasn't pressed so close and into your spasming hole. Screaming his name as you tear at hair strands a bit too viciously. Wonwoo takes it all in stride, too obsessed with prolonging that delightful peak of yours to care.

Only when your legs loosen up does he back away, pride filling his chest as he takes in your shaking form. Pushing up foggy lenses, he licks his lips slowly. The damp spot shining on his chin and nose is enough of a damning visual — one that's real and touchable, not of your imagination this time — for a tiny tremor to run through your thighs again. 

Wonwoo's sore jaw drops. "Baby, did you… did you just cum again?" The cool air away from your cunt clears his vision so he can marvel at the soiled wet patch on your shared blankets. A mumbled curse leaves his mouth. 

You're a vision. Strewn across the bed, skin shining with sweat while your disheveled husband is the epitome of sex. He cracks his neck, stretching his jaw.

Thinking. 

Contemplating.

"Just from that? Hah, what am I going to do with you?" 

"Fuck me," you moan and bring your legs that feel like Jello up to your chest. Squeezing your breasts between your thighs, you pout at him and flutter your lashes. A perfect look for a vixen, pleading yet sultry. "Please."

"Shit… can't tell if you're being bad or good. Augh, the things you do to me."

"'m good, s'good for you. Want you s'bad." 

Blabbering, you watch through bleary eyes at the rapid speed he tears off his sweatpants and manage to spread your legs even farther with how numb they feel when he climbs over top of you. Lenses flash in the light at the same time as a foil wrapper before he rips it, hissing in sensitivity to slide the condom on. You're thrilled when the heavy tip of his cock slaps against your prepped pussy, ready for him to lose all rationale. You're sorely disappointed to find out your husband has a pending question for you.

"Then why didn't you greet me when you came home? Hm? Pretty baby sulking in the bathroom 'cause I was gaming with the boys?"

"Ahhh…" you shake your head urgently, nails lightly scratching his biceps, and hips lifting off the bed in a sly effort to slip his dick inside. "No…"

Wonwoo clicks his tongue, halting your movements. "No? I need complete answers, love."

You need him to lose control. Fighting back a sob, you try to shake off your fucked-out state and reply to him properly. "Wanted to shower 'nd then come in no panties, sit… on your lap." 

"Yeah? Pretty baby was gonna keep me nice and warm in that snug pussy? Like we always do?"

"Mhm," tears are streaming down your cheeks at this point, "maybe… maybe suck you off."

"Oh, wanted to choke on my cock so all those losers could hear those greedy gags of yours?"

All you can do is nod deliriously because his thick length is hot and hard. Laying outside your lower stomach exactly like it would if it was buried within you. 

Wonwoo snarls. "I think the fuck not. Absolutely not. Only I'm allowed to hear your pretty noises. Only me." He huffs, easing the tip inside finally, grunting at how you're already clamping around him like a vice. "You're made for me. All mine. No one else."

The last three syllables are punctuated by experimental, shallow thrusts to open you up for him. Your tongues tangle together as he continues to rock his hips forward, splitting you open until your pelvises kiss.

"That's it, baby. That's the sweet cunt I've been waiting for all day, dreaming of. There it is, shit! Whose pussy does this belong to?"

"Yours… hgnh, all yours… yours, yours yours…!"

"That's right, that's fuckin' right."

His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose but are pushed up by your own nose when you pull him by the neck to shut him up. Barely kissing anymore, it's an open-mouthed entanglement of debauchery. Neither of your moans get any quieter, especially when he rasps in your ear to make as much noise as possible because no one's around to listen.

Wonwoo's thrusts are sharp when he does pull out a little bit. But he doesn't want to leave your warmth for even one moment, mainly grinding as deep as he can into your fluttering hole and stimulating your clit. His hands tug at your nipples, alternating between squishing and squeezing at your tender breasts. Your legs splay compliantly out at the side, letting your husband use you to his content because that's what both of your goals tonight were.

You're shamelessly screaming when his tip touches that bundle of nerves and you're afraid you might actually black out when he continues to hit it with scary precision. 

"Gonna… be the death… of me."

Peering at you over his glasses, he smirks at your weak complaint. "Says the one… that's gonna snap off my dick… shit, lovey, stop tightening up so much!"

"Can't help it, feels so good."

"I know, baby," he pants out and kisses your cheek, "I know so just bare with me a bit more." Relief floods him momentarily when your gummy walls loosen their iron grip around his cock. "That's it."

Pulling out of your squelching pussy before you can clamp around him again with only the head wrapped around so prettily by your puffy lips, he has to pause to admire it. Then he slams inside so deep that you can't help but hit that intense climax while he's still stuffing the rest of his length back in.

He coos in his low voice, coaxing you through it with an almost cruel swivel of his hips. "You can give me one more, right? I know you can, you're so good for me."

You really don't know if you could but the minute you lock eyes with him, the feral need and want in them that takes your breath away is enough. It's tinier than all the ones prior but it pleases a fucked out Wonwoo. In seconds, he's spilling his seed into the condom, still nestled within your spasming walls.

"There it is, cream on my cock, love. Yeah, there we go… fuck, baby..." he pants, a telltale sign, "that's it... so perfect."

To say you're exhausted would be an understatement. You might've actually passed out because when you come to, your husband has already wiped you down and pulled the blankets over your naked body. You weren't cold at all before but now that the tidal wave of lust has ebbed away, a chill is settling in. Your cat has snuck into the bedroom too, curled up and purring at the end of the bed on top of the stuffed cockroach plushie.

"Wonwoo?"

"Right here, love." He's laying on top of the covers and wearing his sweats again. His glasses are on the nightstand, head propped up on one hand to stare affectionately at you. "Feel okay?"

"Yeah but I'm glad I'm off for the rest of the week. You fucked the life out of me."

A smug grin graces his face. "Yeah I know. Which is why I don't understand why you just didn't wait to do laundry tomorrow or something."

"Not this again. How old are you?"

"Old enough to know what will prevent me from blowing out your back all the time." He's ready to continue with a good defense but pauses at the smile you're trying to hide. "Wait… did you do that on purpose?" When you don't reply, he groans your name. "You did, didn't you?"

"We all have our little tricks," a finger traces down his exposed pecs, "although I didn't expect such a needy voicemail on my way home, it turned out just as planned."

He halts your wrist when you start journeying down his abs. "Not in front of the child, please."

"I'm too tired to do anything scandalous," you laugh and flip your aching body over to the other side. "Wake me up in a half hour so I can shower. Alone."

"I can't believe I was set up." Disbelief drips from his tone as he sets a timer on his phone but he reaches over you to turn off the light, pressing a kiss to your ear. "Well-played though. You have a lot of free time to make up for your misbehavior, don't you baby?"

"Mhm-hm."

Wonwoo can't see the second victorious smile hidden in the darkness. Really. You're just too smart, knowing your husband so well to get what you want. 

Mingyu would be proud. And grossed out.

onlyseokmins: February 2023 ©

[acerathia]

Side-Character changes the genre! | S. Todoroki

Summary:

Waking up in a novel you have once read, you realize something of utmost importance: your favorite character is destined to die as a tragedy! So, you decide to help him avoid this bleak fate with your knowledge of future events, nothing more, nothing less, right?

Wordcount: 14.6k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Crown Prince!Todoroki Shoto / Jester!Reader

Tags/CW:

reader is a jester, royal au, but also, isekai, this is unserious, only small amounts of angst, failed assassination plot, pinning and getting pinned down, idiot x competent (both of them tbh)

Note:

I finished it earlier than i thought, this fic is unserious, and too long for me to edit with this headache, enjoy lol (shoutout to my derelict favorite o7)

The sky above you seems endless, as the clouds beckon you to just come closer. And oh, how much you want to, stretching your arm towards them in quiet desperation, straining against whatever force is pulling you down. The tips of your fingers barely brush the underside of the sky, too far away to ever reach again, when everything exploded in shards of pain and darkness.

*-*

A gasp shudders out of your body as you jolt upright, the blanket loosely thrown over your legs, barely covering you. It is almost like your restless body has refused the warmth of the slightly coarse covering. Taking a couple of breaths, your hand clutching your chest as if to support this tiny endeavor of gathering air. After you have exhaled a couple of times, the panic has finally subsided, leaving you with phantom aches and a dizzy mind. You don’t remember going to bed at all, the last moment seared into your mind is the motion of falling endlessly.

A sudden sharp pang drives through your skull as you try to remember more, making you gasp once again. Maybe this isn’t the ideal time to try and dive into the last memories. Rather, you begin looking around, trying to discern if this place is in any way recognizable to you. Because it for sure is not a hospital room. It seems like you have woken up in a tiny hut, one space containing the bed you’re currently residing in, a table with only one chair and a kitchen space. The bright windows show you the depths of the forest, leaves brushing against the pane of glass. There is nothing else, the place almost looking neglected, empty, unlived in. Who might have brought you to this place? You don’t remember any of your acquaintances mentioning anything about a cabin in the woods.

You brush the blanket fully away, sliding off the small bed. Your bare feet meet the ground, and you expect yourself to flinch at the cold touch, yet, your body seems accustomed to the slight chill against your skin. You furrow your eyebrows slightly at this, but you decide to ignore whatever your body is doing right now, especially as you in fact do not mind having a little more resistance to the cold than usual.

With careful steps, you begin to walk around the confined space, looking for any possible clue about your current whereabouts. But you find nothing but untouched dust, and a mirror. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you walk up to the mirror until you can see your reflection. And you see yourself as you’re used to. Only in different clothing, ones almost vintage, something one would wear at a renfaire, not at home. Brushing against the texture of the material, you decide that you quite like it, despite its rough style. Only you do wonder how you came to wear this piece in the first place.

Continuing to explore the nooks and crannies of the tiny space, you stumble across a newspaper. One folded neatly in a corner, almost like the person who put it there knew that you might find it. Your eyes immediately jump to the top corners, trying to look for a date. But the moment you find one, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to you. The numbers feel like they have been put there in a whole new context, one fundamentally different from the one you’re so used to. And rather than helping you decipher your current situation, it only made you a little bit more confused.

Yet, you do not have it in you to give up due to some jumbled numbers without meaning. So, you begin to leave through the newspaper. One page after the other, letting the paper slide against your skin. And you’re not even worried about papercuts, as the material seems to be soft around the edges, something of good quality, yet not high enough to warrant sharp edges.

Your eyes glance over the stories, never truly picking something up, the way the words are formed, structured feels familiar yet too foreign to truly properly digest. The only thing that catches your eye are two words: ‘Todoroki Shouto’

“What the fuck?”, you mumble to yourself, dipping your head closer to the paper to read the printed text containing that particular name. It takes you longer than you would have liked to finish reading it, but it still left you reeling.

Letting the newspaper sink, you stare out of the window, your thoughts running around into a chaos of your own making. There is no way that this is true, is it? That’s just an elaborate prank, it has to be. You could not explain it otherwise why apparently your favorite character of your favorite novel is real. Or rather, how you landed into their world.

A giggle escapes you. Running a hand through your hair you feel the need to rip at those strands, trying to feel if anything is real at all. There is no way that Todoroki Shouto is actually going to celebrate his birthday party in the next few days. Because even if everything is real, and the picture in the newspaper seems to tell you that it is, you could not have chosen a worse time to wake up to. Because as much as he’s your favorite character, Shouto is destined to die at the hands of his own brother, and soon. And with the usurpation of the throne by the so-called Dabi, the whole kingdom is going to drown in flames.

That means, not only is your beloved Shouto going to die, but you also are going to follow suit very soon. And you do not want to die before you even understand what has happened in the first place.

Slowly falling to your knees and clutching the newspaper to your chest, you curse the world. Why couldn’t you have reincarnated into a romfan? Or anything else with barely any conflict, why did it have to be a novel filled with intrigue and wars.

As much as you’ve always wanted to meet Shouto, you didn’t mean to follow him into the afterlife. This thought brings a sudden realization with it. Wait. If you’re in the same world as your beloved favorite character, not only can you meet him, but also, possibly save him from his future. You have poured endless hours into changing the canon in your head during your daydreams, if only to make him survive everything and have a happy ending. So why shouldn’t you dare implement those ideas into this world of a novel. And because this is the novel, everything you do is technically canon.

Another giggle, only to turn into slightly mischievous laughter. With this plot of yours, not only will you be able to save Shouto, but also yourself. Suddenly, all these hours reading canon-divergent fics are worth it. Now, what you need to do is actually trying to discern what parts of your memory are canon, and what are simply the illusions brought forth by senseless hope.

Standing up, you use the newspaper to dust yourself off, before you begin looking for a pen and any form of paper. For this, you had to dig deep in a couple of cabinets, their contents often nothing but dust. But you eventually found exactly what you are looking for. Taking your newly discovered writing utensils, you sit down at the only table in this place. And you begin to write everything you remember. During this undertaking, you had to strike through several points, as with deeper thought, they turned out to be parts of some of the fics you have read. And you can’t have that, as your plan has to depend on the actions of the canon, rather than the ones of the wishful thinking of yours.

The important parts of Shouto’s plot are easily recognizable. His mother has been residing at seaside to recuperate from the sudden illness King Enji has bestowed upon her, while his eldest brother, Touya, who once thought to be the rightful heir to the throne, that is until Shouto came and their father changed his mind for no apparent reason. Of course, he couldn’t simply give Shouto the title of crown prince, rather, Touya had disappeared suddenly during a border skirmish. As this was the perfect opportunity, they immediately declared him dead, now truly putting the younger Shouto on the pedestal of the crown prince. This new position of his meant that every assassination attempt has switched targets, attacking him at every corner. And the ones about to come will be the most vicious of his life, even leading to his eventual death.

You can’t have that of course. Exactly those assassination attempts are the ones you have to sabotage to ensure that he stays on top of everything when the final showdown begins. Only, during writing those points, you remembered that not only is Shouto incredibly beautiful and talented, deserving of unending happiness, but also that he is the crown prince. Which is honestly awesome, he manages to do all his training and education with such ease, nobody else deserves that title. The problem lies with you, of course. Because how are you supposed to protect Shouto from his demise, if you can’t even get into the palace? And you highly doubt that they would simply let you in, if you walked over to the gates and told the guards: ‘Uh, hello, his Highness, the crown prince Shouto is about to be assassinated, and I’m the only one who can protect him.’ That would be absurd, and land you into jail yourself as a prime suspect. No, you had to handle it in another way.

Your head meets the wood of the table with a hollow thud. There is no way to do that, it’s hopeless. You cannot even get into the palace, there is no way to manage that, how are you supposed to save your beautiful Shouto?

Worst of all, you begin to feel dizzy. As your mind is already spiraling about the future of your favorite character, you immediately assume that you’re dying, as not only does your head hurt but your stomach is also cramping. Until you hear a familiar grumble, and every single one of your thoughts come to a halt. And if your head weren’t on the table already, you would have considered hitting yourself again.

“Ah. I’m hungry…”

Getting back onto your feet, you begin to look through every cabinet and cupboard, hoping to have overlooked something during your search for your writing utensils. But exactly as you feared, nothing has appeared during the couple of minutes you have looked away. Leading to one shocking conclusion: there is no food in this entire place. You almost went to your knees once again, but you decided to be stronger than this. You will not allow yourself to starve to death, especially with such an important mission. Even if you have no idea how to muster any kind of food, when all you own are the clothes on your back and a dusty place.

With trembling fingers you open the last cupboard, a silent plea to the author to give you one chance to survive. But even your last hope is crushed when you discover it empty of any possible sustenance. The only thing inside the cupboard seems to be a small leather pouch, too small to contain enough food, if food at all. Still, you can’t ignore this random bag, and because your curiosity is stronger than any despair you might have felt, you grabbed the pouch and peeked into it. And the moment your eyes recognize the insides, you almost let it fall in shock. But your self-sufficiency stops you from doing so, eliminating any risk of losing this precious content.

Because the bag is filled with enough cold coins to almost last you a lifetime if you knew how to use it well. And well, as you plan on surviving as long as possible, you cannot risk even losing one single piece to the harsh environment. So, you only grabbed one single coin with the tips of your fingers before closing the pouch once again to safely stash it away. This one coin should be enough to feed you and for you to get some seeds to plant to grow your own garden, giving you the chance to not only be self-sufficient, but also the ability to sell your plants and get more money.

A grin spreads over your face at the thought of gathering more money for your future life. What these gold coins could do for you. You’d never have to worry about starving, and because you have this place, you will always have a home. With these gold coins you’re settled for life, and if you manage to get a bit more out of them, you could even get yourself some tiny luxuries.

Grabbing the gold coin firmly in your fist, which you shove into a pocket for extra protection, you make your way to the door, steadfast in your decision to get yourself some food and some seeds. In front of the door you find a pair of sturdy shoes, and you’re glad that there is no reason for you to venture outside with your bare feet alone. Without ever letting the gold coin go, you shove your feet one by one into their respective shoes and barely manage to tighten the cords to fit you properly. You’d hate to fall and stumble because you neglected to secure your feet properly. Every misstep could mean the loss of this precious coin.

After making sure that the coin is still deep in your grip, you finally venture outside the hut. Only to see nothing but the vastness of the forest beyond the little fenced in space. And for a moment you can’t help but hesitate in front of the small gate, as your mind tells you to not step any further, in fear of what might be lurking just beyond your door. Worst of all, you can’t even convince yourself to pull through because it seems like you have no memories about this place, about the way to the next village. There is no way for you to do this on your own, you have to turn back and find another way…

Your cheek burns with the aftereffect of your slight slapping. But the slight pain jolts you out of your slight panic. You will go through this forest now, you will get yourself some food and not starve to death, and you will eventually find a way to save your beloved Shouto. You will not allow a puny forest to get the best of you.

With this decision burning inside of you, you finally take the first step out of the gate. And the first thing you notice is a small way in front of you, paved by the time and the steps of the people. This little path is currently your best bet, so with a shrug, you begin to diligently follow it. Despite its rather small size, the path isn’t as bumpy or rough as one might have expected it to be, for which you are glad, as you’d rather avoid twisting your ankle because your mind is slightly distracted from the way in front of you.

It barely takes you any time to emerge from the forest unscathed, not even tired out in the slightest. You begin to feel a little bit stupid at your unnecessary panic earlier, considering how easy it actually was to arrive at this village.

For a moment you stay still at the edge of the woods, simply gazing at what’s front of you as the slight breeze brushes through your clothes. The sky seems to stretch endlessly in front of you, open and a brilliant blue, with only the palace poking its tip towards it, as if trying to grasp some part of the infinite. This immense building is but a shard compared to the size of the sky, of the land, and yet it is the biggest there is. And it is your future destination to deflect the worst possible future.

Seeing the palace in the distance only serves to solidify your motivation, your goals and desires. So, you take your first step towards the palace, towards the village, and you are filled with determination to do everything in your power to change the outcome, for Shouto, for yourself, and for everyone else.

Once you arrive at the village, you take your time to slowly discover this place. You wander along the streets, you peek into the windows of tiny shops, and you even enter several to get yourself a basket to fill with fresh food and the seeds you plan to plant in the near future. It feels a little stupid to have forgotten such a necessity like a basket, but you don’t have the time to feel embarrassed as you simply get what you desire and walk around with an unbridled curiosity.

After some time, you stop in front of a fountain, watching the water bubble and fizz with each second, and you decide to take a break right at the edge of it. You sit down and stretch your legs while watching the low buzz of people walking and talking. Your eyes never stand still, always wandering in every direction, slow and comfortable, with no real focus. That is until you catch sight of an announcement board filled with papers tacked to it. And for some reason you feel the urge to read through every single one of them, because no matter how much you try to avert your gaze, your eyes always wander back to it.

With a sigh you grab your basket and make your way towards the board, weaving between the masses, never in a hurry, but with a set destination in mind. Finally coming to a halt in front of the stacks of papers, you begin to read through them by simply glancing at the headline. Until one contains one of your self-input keywords ‘palace’. You immediately step closer and read the posting with much more focus.

‘Now hiring! We’re looking for a jester to join the troupe for the duration of the festivities for crown prince Shouto Todoroki’s birthday. This includes the ball and [… ] No prior experience needed.’

You immediately snatch the paper and clutch it in your hand. This is it, this is your chance to get into the palace and possibly save Shouto from the first assassination attempt. Maybe the author is actually gracing you with immense luck to survive this. Maybe they absolutely want Shouto to survive no matter what. Of course you’re supposed to take this chance, even if your humor may not be up to their standards, because you’re meant to survive. Nodding to yourself at this explanation of yours, you make your way to the address written onto the paper.

It doesn’t take long for you to arrive at the rather open space with a couple of people warming up and doing rather light tricks. Still, you couldn’t help but watch as these people play with fire as if it’s purely silk, and with silk like it’s water flowing out of their hands. And no matter how much work all these tricks seemed to be, they all appear to have a tremendous amount of joy, laughter erupting with every clumsy mistake, leading to nothing but a loud noise or a knot between their fingers.

After carefully wandering between these people, you try finding someone who does not look to be in the middle of a trick or a warm-up. And eventually you almost bump into two people simply having a conversation.

“Ah, excuse me? I’m here because I’ve seen you’re hi–”

“You’re hired! We’re so glad to have you on board, but you must know that you will carry the responsibility if the kind is angered due to any of your jokes. Now, let’s see, you can go grab the costume over there,” he points to a colorful cart, not even letting you have a word. “And then we’ll meet again here the morning of the ball to venture together to the palace, alright? Alright, great. See ya!”

He slightly shoves you towards the wagon, and you stumble slightly, as the barrage of information overwhelms you the tiniest bit, well a bit more than that. Still, you follow his directions and walk to the wagon, where you knock against the door, trying to get whatever you’re supposed to and maybe some more information.

A head pokes out of the opening door, and the moment you both meet eyes, the younger boy breaks out in a grin. The door immediately swings open and he jumps out, drawing a circle around you before he finally stops in front of you, hand outstretched.

“Well, nice to meet you, I’m Hide, the one responsible for giving all these people fitting clothes. I assume you’re our new jester?”, he grabs your hand and shakes it, as you introduce yourself with a name.

“Great, let’s see, we should have something that fits you just right,” and as fast as he appeared, he dips back into the wagon, and you hold yourself back from peeking in while something crashes inside.

It doesn’t take long for him to emerge once again, this time with a slight wobble in his steps. Once again, he just acts before explaining anything, pushing a bundle of fabric into your chest, and you hurry to hold it before it slips from your grasp.

“That’s your costume. You know, shirt, pants and even a mask. We don’t want to risk you getting arrested once out of your costume. The whole being a jester at court thing is dangerous enough as it is.”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘dangerous’?”, you interrupt him, because that’s the second time someone mentions something like that, and considering that you only talked to two people this whole time, it is quite a lot.

He shrugs. “Well, king Enji is not famous for being a funny guy after all. Many are scared to perform because they think he might just get rid of them. But the court has certain rules, and a jester at court has technically some immunity. Even if not, well, absolute or anything. So, you kind of have to protect yourself, we give you the mask, you try to keep trouble minimal. We survive, yippie!”

You blink at his explanation and slowly nod. It does make sense, as kind Enji is feared due to his hot temperament and his mercilessness, but well you’d rather not risk your life to burn under his scrutiny. A sigh escapes you, well, what one does for love, or something. You really have no other choice but to pull through, because there is no way you would get into the ball otherwise.

So, you accept these clothes and consequently the role as the jester for this troupe, even if temporary. Stowing the bundle into your basket, you decide it’s time to go home. You bid Hide farewell and you make your way back, a sudden exhaustion creeping up your back.

Maybe you have bitten much more than you could chew. How could someone like you even think of changing the outcome of the plot. Even with your money, do you even possess a chance to counteract the numerous assassination attempts? Or are they going to catch you and blame you for everything in the end, making every single step of yours for naught? Oh, how much you desire your favorite character to survive and to live out his life in peace and bliss, but are you the right person to help him do so?

Maybe it’s just enough if you act as a stepping stone to his way to happiness. Maybe you should be happy with that, never wanting more than to see him truly smile after every adversity is overcome.

Maybe you will pull it off, even if barely, You will do anything for that smile, truly. A breath, the thud of the basket against the wooden ground, the rough wool touching your face, and you allow the darkness to overcome you.

*-*

As agreed, you meet the troupe at the same place at a later date. You’re in your costume already, the material softer against your skin as your usual clothing is. The colors are bright and inviting, perfect for the role of a jester, as you would have to pull everyone’s attention towards you. Normally you would hate to receive so much attention, all those eyes scrutinizing your every move, but the weight of the mask against your nose and brows help with ignoring those. Nobody would be able to recognize you outside of your attire, the cap ’n bells covering the rest of your head as the liliripes hang around your face. The costume truly is serving its purpose: to hide your identity.

Yet, during the walk towards the palace, you’re glad to be able to keep your own sturdy shoes. In case something happens, you still would have the right footwear to react, instead of the usual jester shoes with their curling toes.

Finally entering the hall, bypassing the guards by taking the servant’s entrance, you almost stop in your tracks as you marvel over the place. Red and white flowers flow down the walls, their scent tickling the tip of your nose. The huge tables framing the hall are filled with art made of food, and ice sculptures, ones that do not seem to melt no matter the temperature. As you continue to follow the troupe, your eyes wander to the ceiling, only to be awed by the paintings depicting some sort of story you’re unable to decipher, their colors still vibrant underneath the light of the huge chandelier, one seemingly made of pure stars.

You barely notice when the group stops to prepare their acts in their designated area. But once you do, you keep to yourself, standing at the edge and simply watching these people. As your role does not need any preparation or any special space, your thoughts wander while still looking around the hall. And you nod slightly. That’s how the rich live. Very extravagant. You wouldn’t mind experiencing life like them, but you’re also content with simply having a secure future. Well, that’s as long as you manage to successfully help Shouto survive.

Slowly, the hall begins to fill and the music sways through the air, inviting everyone to dance, or to simply relax. As for you, you begin walking around, saying a joke there, doing a tiny prank here. Just whatever is in your capacity without making a big deal out of your presence. Especially due to your lack of experience, you’d hate to commit an irredeemable slip up. So, you focus on simply changing up the mood wherever it’s needed. All while you are waiting for your favorite character to finally make his appearance.

There have been a couple other characters you recognize, if only by the way they mutter or bark their words. Yet, you don’t care for them in particular. Because you know that none of them can be a match to Shouto, be it in appearance or character. Your favorite character truly has the noblest soul out of all the existing characters, and you shall make sure that he can bloom to show his true potential, unlike the outcome of the novel.

You shake your head in disapproval at the simple thought of the novel which brought ruination onto Shouto. Cursing the author in your head, you almost miss the entrance of the crown prince.

“Announcing His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Shouto Todoroki,” the lord steward diligently does his job as he announces his arrival to the entire hall.

Immediately the whole mass of people turns to face the entrance, almost afraid to miss the chance to get a glimpse. And you’re no different. You even feel the urge to jump to get an even better look. But the thought is unnecessary, as movement sweeps through the people. bowing and curtsying, freeing the view towards him.

His appearance seems to strike you down. Even from afar you’re able to see the smooth, unblemished skin, the straight nose, plush lips and soft cheeks which slowly turn into a sharp jawline. His eyes look like the ocean at different times of the day, his lashes fluttering like a halo. His hair looks like a breeze is caressing him. He’s positively glowing, and you’re unable to move, until someone grabs you, pulling you down.

“Do you want to be beheaded?” the person, Hide, whisper-shouts at you and you realize that for a short moment you were the only one who didn’t greet him properly, practically risking your neck for a glimpse of him.

But his face is imprinted behind your eyelids and you doubt you could ever forget such a sight.

“Worth it,” you mumble, wincing when Hide strengthens his grip around your arm. But all you could do is stay silent with your lips slightly jutting forward. Because even if you don’t regret it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a foolish thing to do. You only wish you had enough time to see the rest of him too. Maybe that’s the thing you’re actually regretting.

After Shouto has finished his walk through the hall, arriving in front of the dais to greet his father. And as expected, his greeting is short, curt, almost rude. But it’s known that despite him being the crown prince, he does not particularly like his father. Understandably so, if someone asked you for your opinion. King Enji is strong and is able to protect the kingdom with his own power, yet his destructive tendencies have affected a lot of the common folk, especially the ones living on the border of the country.

Of course, as you had read every tidbit about Shouto, you’re well aware how this piece of— this king had treated Shouto and his siblings. Such things aren’t common knowledge though, and you would not dare to utter such facts directly. Well, not as long as your life could be on the line. But even if you wouldn’t start some rumors about him, everyone will eventually know the truth once the allegedly deceased first prince returns.

But you hope to at least avoid it, because the appearance of the so-called ‘Dabi’ is in fact a massive death flag for your favorite character, and you’d rather have king Enji keep his reputation than risk Shouto getting killed.

You can’t help but giggle at the way Shouto immediately turns away to get away from his father. He takes a couple long strides towards the table, and you purse your lips when you notice how long his legs are, and how his thighs look in this particular pair of pants.

You keep your eye on him, not because you’re admiring his profile and how sophisticated he looks, no way, but because you still remember a certain plot point being carried out during this specific ball. But even if you do know that he is going to get poisoned, the novel never specified which glass or beverage had caused that incident. And you hardly could just go up to him every time he picks up the glass and takes a sip before he does, that would be ridiculous. How could you even think of indirectly kissing him, that’s bordering on being blasphemous.

So, all you could do is just keep looking at him and trying to discern if something is wrong with whatever is in his hand. That’s how you watch how he nods at something his conversation partner says, as he slowly raises the glass filled with deep red liquid. And for some reason you feel some sense of deja vu, a shiver buzzing down your spine, and you speed up your steps towards him, sincerely hoping that you might reach him just in time.

You realize too late that you wouldn’t be able to stop perfectly in front of him, so you end up bumping into him. But you take this chance to slap the glass out of his hand, continuing to stumble and to flail your arms, before acting like you found your balance again. You immediately put a hand in front of your eyes when you turn back in his direction, and you utter the first thing that comes to mind.

“Excuse me, your Highness, your beauty has simply blinded me,” you bow before you make your departure as swift as possible, hiding between the groups of people.

You’re tempted to curl into a ball and hide behind one of those heavily decorated pillars, but you reckon that would be too obvious and you would only stand out more than you already do. So, you simply continue to weave between all these people and do your job, this time without bumping into anyone.

Luckily, after some time, you realize that there are no guards looking to arrest and kill you and you start to relax. And as soon as the party begins to slow down, you prepare your leave too, wondering how you might infiltrate the palace once again to offer your help hidden in the shadows. Even if theoretically he does not need any help, because he did not get poisoned, which leads to him being more resistant to the subsequent assassination attempts. But the thing that worries you the most is, that this is a novel, who knows how it might retaliate if only to get to the destined end. So, you’d rather not risk stopping your helpful attempts at distracting the assailants.

Of course, you’re not implying that Shouto needs your help, he’s an amazing character, strong and noble, he definitely can handle himself. But you reckon that your in-depth knowledge of the novel might just give him a better advantage against his villainous brother. Even if you understand Dabi’s motivations, you cannot forgive him for making your favorite character suffer like this, that’s the way of a fan.

Slowly, you make your way towards the exit, the troupe probably assembling outside where there’s more free space to do so. Your attention is too focused on the problems of the future, your eyes trying to see if there’s a hidden servant's passage you could use sometime, you don’t notice the person in front of you until you bump into them.

You stumble slightly, barely catching yourself, and you prepare to either apologize or to say something so out of pocket, the other forgets about what just happened. Yet, the moment you look up, you freeze, as you encounter the beautiful face of Shouto. His beauty is enough to make a poet weep and lament, and sadly you’re no poet, so all you could do is stare. His features are much more insane up close, and even face to face, all you can see is him sparkling. His eyes lock with yours, and you feel like you’re getting swept up in an ice storm, and boy, you would have never been more glad to freeze to death if that’s the last thing you see.

Up close, you notice how broad his shoulders are, how his clothes show his lean, yet well-adorned silhouette, and you have to pull yourself together to not make your stare more noticeable. You immediately prepare to run away, but before you could even think of a way to escape, and you were almost tempted to jump out of the window, you feel his fingers carefully grab your wrist.

There’s no skin contact, as he’s been wearing gloves, but the warmth is the same nonetheless and you feel your veins boil and melt. His grip isn’t bruising, but also not something one can escape so easily. And even if you could, you doubt you would forcefully break the contact. (And you can’t help but be amazed at how a character could be so warm.) So, you follow him wordlessly to wherever he’s dragging you to.

Once you arrive at a secluded spot, he lets you go, and while you mourn the loss of the touch, you don’t let it show on your face. You simply face him and wait for him to say what he wants to say. And you sincerely hope he’s not going to give you the death sentence.

“I want you to stay at the court as my court jester,” he finally says, his eyes roaming over the mask on your face.

You cock your head in confusion, his sudden request something you surely did not foresee. But it is the ideal opportunity for you, as with an official occupation at the palace, you would have access to almost every part of it. Yet–

“Why?”

He slightly shrugs. “My father the king hated you and was annoyed by your presence, that’s reason enough to keep you by my side.” After Shouto explains his reasoning, which makes so much sense with his characterization, you can’t help but shudder at the thought of being at the risk of the king’s wrath. And he seems to notice it, so he adds: “You do not have to worry. I will ensure your safety. My father and his lackeys shall not harm you in any way.”

You cross your arms deep in thought. Shouto is the crown prince and he does wield rather impressive power in the palace. He could definitely keep you safe, but if he truly can keep you safe from his own father is something you can’t help but doubt. But you suppose that this is the only way to stay close to him without breaking in. And as long as you avoid direct confrontation with Enji you should be fine.

You don’t agree immediately, rather, you act like any person with a job offer would, you ask about the benefits, perks and the pay. And unsurprisingly, Shouto is rather generous with his offer, so you end up accepting after taking everything you could get your hands on. You had to make enough to survive after all this is over, and why be stingy?

With that, he leads you back to the exit of the hall, telling you that he’s expecting you tomorrow in the morning. You nod and bow before you hurriedly leave the place. Because no matter how you might’ve acted in front of Shouto, you’re still reeling from the direct experience of seeing him up close and even having a proper conversation. This is much better than simply reading about him.

Returning to the troupe, you make the walk back with them with small talk about how the evening has been for them. And even if you didn’t directly tell anyone about the offer from the crown prince, it seems like Hide is kind of aware of it, as he tells you to keep the outfit, as a parting gift. You thank him profusely, as with this outfit you might be able to keep your real identity a secret for some time.

*-*

The next morning you wake up at dawn, simply staring at the ceiling without moving an inch. You know, you should slowly make your way towards the palace, but you feel hesitant. Due to your interference yesterday evening, the plot has begun to change, but from your experience in reading novels, you’re aware that whatever force is controlling this world can forcibly change the plot back to how it was, especially if you continue to meddle. And you can’t help but worry. There’s no way you’re going to be a challenge for all the assassins or attempts. You’re just a random character now, with no abilities to your name. You would be worried about your life, but you remember that death awaits you either way, so you suppose it is better to at least help Shouto to the best of your capabilities.

With a jerk you sit up and begin to prepare for your departure. You reckon there’s no need for you to take your meagerly belongings with you, so you simply put on your costume and head out.

Arriving at the palace gates, you hesitate once again. He did tell you to come, but how are you to enter the palace in the first place? Did he tell the guards? Are you supposed to introduce yourself?

For a moment, you just stand there, probably looking a little lost, as one of the guards simply walks up to you and looks you up and down. And without a word, he puts his hand on your shoulder, sudden and heavy, to push you through the gate. Wordlessly he returns to his post, leaving you looking around, confused as to why that just happened.

But in the end, it doesn’t really matter, so you walk towards the palace. And instead of entering through the main entrance like you did yesterday, you make your way to the entrance for the servants, as you are technically one now, not a guest.

You find the servants entrance easily, and you thank every author for including maps in their novels. If you hadn’t studied the layout of the palace while reading to understand the details, you might’ve taken a long time to locate the inconspicuous door.

Entering the place, you look around for a moment, before you spot a maid. You did contemplate if you should just go to Shouto on your own, but you reminded yourself that this might look extremely suspicious, in addition to your behavior yesterday. Of course you can’t just wander around even if you know the palace, people might question why you know the layout in the first place.

So, you approach the maid, making sure to make some noise to avoid scaring her. You ask her to lead you to Shouto, and while she does give you a narrow-eyed look, she complies, but not without informing a guard first. You shrug internally at that. Very reasonable of her, if you’re honest.

You follow through the long halls until she tells you to wait as she knocks and enters the room. This isn’t his room, rather, it’s his workplace. And you can’t help but sigh, how could the cruel king give Shouto his work. He is the crown prince, but also, that’s not his job to clean up after the king. Worst thing is, that his underlings are pressuring Shouto, telling him it’s what he’s supposed to do. So, he ends up almost overworking. You can’t imagine how bad it might’ve been if the poison had been added to the overwork he experiences. (Well, you can, but you don’t want to. How could you even think about your favorite character suffering like that.)

After a short while, you’re allowed to enter the room, and as you do, you immediately bow at the sight of Shouto. Partly because you had to and partly because you want to mentally prepare yourself before looking at him directly. You might just freeze again if you see him in his normal attire. While staring at the soft carpet with the intricate details, you can’t help but imagine what he might be wearing at this very moment.

You don’t get the chance to let your imagination run freely for a long time, as he tells you to straighten up with a greeting. Your eyes lock onto him, and you sincerely hope that no one can see where your sight is looking, as you immediately notice the white and fluffy shirt, accentuating not only his broad shoulders and his lean physique, but also frames his revealed assets in such a way you cannot keep looking at this space without imploding.

Averting your eyes, you look at his face, and as you’ve seen him twice already, one time even up close, you thought the effect on you might lessen. That turns out to be not true, as you feel blinded by his beauty once again. So, you resort to simply looking over his shoulders, your eyes twitching as you want to look at him but also avoid looking at him at the same time.

You can’t tell if he notices your conundrum, but you hope he doesn’t. There would be nothing more embarrassing if Shouto of all people realize how you feel about him. At least nobody can hear your beating heart if they’re not too close.

The moment he begins to talk is the moment your strength almost crumbles and you barely hold onto yourself, not doubling over as you hear how smooth and calm his voice sounds. You were too nervous to focus on it when he had approached you last evening, but his voice reverberates not only in the silent room, but also in your chest cavity. It’s slightly husky, and you reckon it’s due to the lack of talking he had done today. You try your best to focus on his words rather than on his melodious voice.

He had begun to explain what is expected of you. Such as performances during events and occasionally during meal time. He explicitly allows you to make a fool out of the king, practically giving you the official jester’s privilege. Now you’re only missing a marotte, you giggle to yourself. Of course you don’t tell him that, as being able to get on king Enji’s nerves is your current job and your shared goal. Maybe you should sometimes imply to know some of his secrets, considering that you’re under protection, if only to get him a little more paranoid.

Outside of your public appearances you’re allowed to go as you please as long as you’re ready at a moment's notice. Food and lodging are of course included in your job, you just have to go to the kitchen at certain times to receive your meals.

This is more freedom than you had anticipated, but that’s even better. That way no one can suspect you as you lounge around the whole place, trying to pick up on possible assassination attempts. As long as you don’t get caught in the several secret passages throughout the palace. This job is such a good deal, you don’t even dare haggle about your salary and possible severance pay, rather you just thank him and leave the room, not only escaping your collapse at the prolonged sight of him, but telling him that you’re keen on exploring the place.

In the halls you take a couple of steps before you lean against the wall, trying to calm your heart. This can’t be healthy, you’re meant to watch Shouto from a safe distance, not this up close. You’re going to get heart palpitations if it continues like that.

You manage to shake this nervousness off, but just as you were going to continue your meaningless walk, you notice a sudden change of guards in front of his door. This is normal, if it were to happen at certain times, but as such change is supposed to happen at regular intervals, ones you’re aware of, this one is rather sudden.

Squinting, you continue to observe the new guard. The one who simply should stand in front of the door. Yet, he is turning towards the door, hand on the handle. Before you know it, you’re already by his side, ramming your foot into the back of his knee, making him lose balance. You don’t give him enough time to get it back, as you shove him down. He crashes to the ground and you immediately get onto his chest, squatting down to get a better look on his face.

The guard curses you and you just cock your head with a grin. And it seems like the noise has caught the attention of the people inside the room, as the door opens to reveal Shouto and some of his advisors.

You jump off of the guard and bow. “Greetings again, it seems like someone wasn’t satisfied with, well, I don’t really know what exactly.” You face the lying guard once again. “What did you not like about working at the palace? The view is impeccable if I may say so myself.”

With view you mean the ability to see crown prince Shouto on a regular basis of course. If you could see his face every day, you would never suffer from any illnesses for the rest of your life.

Acting you’re listening seriously as the guard curses you under his breath and you nod as if in understanding. “I get it, Your Highness, he has been plotting treason! Why else would he spout such nonsense even I cannot repeat.”

For a moment, all Shouto does is look at you, like he wants to know what’s going inside your head. Despite your weird behavior, he complies and lets the guard be dragged away, all while he’s shouting how the king has made a mistake. His cursing is evidence enough, even if you did fabricate some of it earlier, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Meanwhile you’re almost squirming under Shouto’s gaze, avoiding any eye contact, as you know the moment you directly look at him, your heart might just explode. Especially if he was doing something like leaning against the frame of the door, or holding his weight against it, or simply standing in front of the door, all confidence and strength. Your mind begins to imagine all different possible poses you might find him in.

Luckily, instead of interrogating you, he instead simply dismisses you and returns to his office without another word, sparing you a direct glance in his direction.

The door closes and you wait a couple of seconds before pulling out your hands from behind your back. A dagger is glinting when the light refracts against it, almost like a promise for its sharpness. This is something you have just purloined from the assassin. It’s a little hand trick to make it disappear from the sight of others, especially if they’re distracted by something else.

You’re thankful some of your skills remain, despite being in a strange world, as this short moment reminded you that even if you had managed to stop two attempts as of now, you’re actually completely defenseless without a proper weapon. And you couldn’t really ask the prince to hand over something so dangerous into the hands of someone like you, a mere stranger, only occupying this place for some momentary gain.

With a sigh, you push the dagger into your waistband, its tip dangerously digging into your thigh. You should’ve gotten the sheath too, but your fingerplay was simply not as fast as you were used to. Well, as long as you don’t move wrong, the chance of getting hurt is rather slim, so you’ll take it.

After making sure the dagger is not visible through the spacious and thick fabric of your costume, you continue your walk through the halls almost like nothing has happened.

*-*

Boredom is going to kill you at this point. Since your official employment, there had been no chance to actually work, as there were no events planned and Shouto was and still is swamped in his duties as heir. At least he’s healthy enough to work, you suppose.

At first, you didn’t even mind doing nothing, but at some point there truly was nothing to do. You have explored every possible nook and cranny of the palace, and it seems like the assassination attempts have ceased for the moment, because everything has been pretty quiet. Nothing was suspicious. Well, this might’ve been your influence, partly. Because you’re pretty sure the people behind those assassins probably did not expect their attempts to fail like that. So they’re backing up for the moment, if only briefly.

That’s what you thought, and the reason why you have started exploring the garden. You were enjoying the soft breeze and the smell of flowers it carries, until you accidentally stumble across a pavilion, one which Prince Shouto has been resting under, drinking tea on his own.

Coming to an abrupt halt, you immediately bow and begin to back away so as to not disturb him any further. But before you can properly disappear, Shouto locks eyes with you, and even if you don’t freeze up this time, you don’t get the possibility to get away, as he calls you to step closer.

“Please, join me,” he simply instructs as he gestures towards the empty seat opposite of him.

His words don’t seem like a command, rather they sounded genuine, and who are you to say no to snacking with a snack. So, you bow again and take a seat.

Despite being excited about eating with him, you can’t help but avoid directly looking at him, clenching your muscles at the mere thought of being perceived by him.

You’re not sure he noticed the mix of excitement and nervousness swirling through you, but either way, he simply tells you to eat whatever you want as he sips on his still hot tea. Peeking at him, your heart begins to race at the sight of him holding his cup so elegantly. Better said, his whole posture is absolutely regal and you think you might see rays of light radiate off of him.

Grabbing anything in front of you and almost clumsily stuffing it into your mouth, you try to distract yourself from the perfect being sitting right in front of you. You really can’t say anything rash in his presence, or you might regret it, not only for the rest of your life, but for all eternity.

That’s what you decided on, to be a calm rational person. Sadly, your body didn’t agree with you, because the moment your eyes meet his, the crumbs of whatever sweet thing you have stuffed into your mouth slip down the wrong path, and you begin to choke. At first, you tried to free yourself from their hold discreetly, and you sure are glad that the mask is covering your face, because you doubt your predicament isn’t visible there, but these particles of dough are determined to make your life worse and worse. Because at some point you could not hold back anymore and just began to cough. And it isn’t just a normal, ‘one cough and you’re free' type of cough, it’s a ‘you’re going to eject your lungs’ type of cough. You barely had enough time to turn your face and to bury it into the crook of your arm before the attack started.

Tears are running down your cheeks, and you’re pretty sure a big part of them are from your broken heart. How could you embarrass yourself in front of Shouto like that? This is even worse than being the jester, a person meant to make people laugh, this situation isn’t even particularly funny, just horrible. How could you show your face after all this?

A cup of tea is carefully put into the palms of your hands, the porcelain warm against your skin, but there’s another warmth much more potent resting against the back of your hands, guiding you to take small sips from the tea. After the aromatic drink frees the blockage in your throat, you take a deep breath, relishing in the way you can breathe again.

That is until you feel that kind of pressure on your hands, which should not be caused by a simple cup of tea. You almost hesitate, but when you finally look up, you immediately lock eyes with Shouto, but this time, he’s so much closer to you than you would have anticipated. If your mouth was still filled with something sweet, you likely wouldn’t have only choked, but probably even done something much worse, you don’t even feel the need to think about it.

In your haze of admiration and embarrassment you nearly miss the way he almost imperceptibly furrows his eyebrows. You immediately hurry to calm his worries.

“Your Highness! I’m totally fine now, please, do not worry. You might develop wrinkles way earlier this way,” the last part is mumbled, as you lift a hand towards his face. But before you could even press the pads of your fingers against the crease to soften them, you stop in your tracks. You really shouldn’t do this, as it’s not your place, you’re not meant to get close to him or to touch him. Even if he is more than a simple character to you, even if he’s the realest thing you would ever have in your life.

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not even sure what exactly, but before you could do something about this tension between you (his hands still clutching yours, he’s still crouching in front of you, looking up to you in worry, like you’re worth the worry and–), there’s a crash.

Something has flown past the both of you, barely missing your bodies and hitting the table filled with food. The table which now has an arrow embedded into its wood. There’s no time to hesitate as you let the cup drop, porcelain shattering on the ground at the same time as you throw yourself onto Shouto, pushing him to the ground. Another arrow grazes your back this time, only noticeable by the breeze and the sting of split skin.

There are no other arrows following, as the moment the first arrow has arrived under the pavilion the surrounding knights have immediately assessed the situation and began their own attack. But before they could catch the culprit, it seems like they escaped just after the second arrow had been shot.

Only when you’re sure about the safety of the situation, do you roll away, letting yourself fall onto the cold ground, far from the spilled tea. Pain shoots up your spine, but you ignore it as you watch the knights fuss over Shouto. Shouto who is safe and merely with some scrapes from the dodge.

Slumping against the cold marble, as relief floods through you. Nothing of importance has been harmed, they didn’t succeed, once again. And you hope that this whole ordeal will lead to the security around Shouto tightening. Even if it means you might lose your position due to your foggy, practically non-existent past.

You simply take a breather on the ground, trying to ignore the possible consequences affecting you, because if you get kicked out, how are you supposed to stay by his side, uh, to protect him. There’s no way you’d want anything more. Even if he is the most attractive man you have ever encountered in your whole life, but that’s another whole bomb to defuse, you’ve got bigger problems. At least the knights have taken Shouto inside already, not even giving you the chance to see him to say goodbye or to admire his face, you mean, to make sure he’s alright.

Silence coats the once rowdy pavilion, only you’re left behind. And you don’t mind, you shouldn’t, because in their eyes, you’re no one. No one but someone who’s supposed to bring them joy at the exact right moments. Nothing more. Even if you put effort into being more, it simply won’t matter. And you know it, you know it and you’ve accepted it. That’s why you slowly sit up again, your fingers trying to touch the torn skin at your back, barely grazing it before sharpness drills into you. Yet, the wound isn’t deep, merely a touch of the blade. Something you can simply leave to heal on its own. If it leaves a scar, then it does so, as there’s no reason for you to abhor or be scared of leaving marks on yourself. That is simply life.

Yet, you don’t immediately stand up to go back. You simply stay. Trying for a moment to forget the impending doom and the task of having to stitch your shirt back into one piece. You simply stay and let the air cool you down until the tips of your fingers feel stiff. Only then do you get on your feet, intent on finally going back. But before you could even leave the pavilion in the first place, a knight taps your shoulder.

Turning around to face him, you notice that he doesn’t have the air of a knight, rather one of a noble, with the way his green eyes sparkle and his equally colored hair is styled. You also notice his clothes, which do have some elements of an armor, yet too elegant to be truly one. He smiles at you.

“Excuse me, but Shouto would like to see you,” he tells you simply, but you can see in the way his eyes wander over you that many more thoughts are bubbling over in his head. He’s simply accustomed to keeping them inside, rather than sounding them out.

You simply nod, and you’re silently grateful he wasn’t expecting you to actually bow to him. Because it would be so embarrassing to do so, only for him to notice your ripped shirt. So, you’re readily following him back to the palace and to–

The door you’re standing in front of is not his office. You glance at the noble in front of you as he knocks on the door. It opens and he invites you in, yet stays outside himself.

A moment, a blink, and you do as you’re told, entering something akin to a parlor. And there he is, Shouto, in another set of clothes and impeccably clean, but safe nonetheless. He’s sitting on one of the couches, and you simply bow the moment you see him.

He murmurs your name and you look up. “Take a seat.”

For a moment, you hesitate, unsure if you’re actually allowed to comply, as sitting on the same eye level as royalty is not something you should actually dare (even if that would be your second time, but that only makes it worse, as it could develop into a habit. You don’t want that).

Yet, you follow his command, because he continues to simply look at you, and you could not bear to have his gaze on you for such a prolonged time. So, you sit down on the edge of the couch opposite of him.

But it seems to have been the wrong move, as a small furrow appears between his eyebrows, a small crease, barely noticeable on his smooth face. Upon seeing the change on his face, you tense, ready to immediately stand up and to leave, or do whatever Shouto wants from you.

Before you could throw yourself off the soft cushions, he stands up and walks around the tea table, only to take a seat by your side.

You turn to face him at such a speed, your mask almost got flung away. And you wish you could express yourself with speech bubbles instead of words to articulate ‘???’ properly. But alas, all that comes out of your mouth is a series of warbles, akin to a keysmash. You’re almost inclined to pushing yourself towards the farthest end of the couch, especially with the way his eyes wander over the lower half of your face and–

“Take it off,” he instructs you before you could do anything rash.

“My mask? Your Highness, I’m sorry, but I won’t comply with that, my identity–”

“I mean your shirt. Take it off.”

In a weird reflex, you cross your arms in front of your body. “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean, Your Highness?”

He glances at your arms before looking back at you with a new furrow between his eyebrows. “You got hurt earlier and need medical attention. I will just do that.”

“Oh.”

If the blood didn’t rush into your face due to your surprise, then embarrassment will do the trick just fine. How could you misunderstand him like that, Shouto would never do something like, like that!

You purse your lips, another thought popping into your head. “Your Highness, not to be rude, but why would you of all people do that?”

A slight tilt to his head and his hair falls beautifully onto his cheeks, and the sun hits at the right angle and he glows. You’re doing your best to not straight-up stare at him wide-eyed and amazed by his sheer beauty. You’re so focused on appearing normal, you almost miss his answer.

“Well, you did protect me, so I suppose the injury is due to me, and I cannot leave it just like that.”

You furrow your eyebrows. Technically it’s not his fault, it’s theirs and maybe a little bit yours for being reckless. But definitely not his. But you don’t know how to explain how you’re always on guard due to the rebels always targeting him and how you wanted to protect him from the very beginning. So, you simply comply.

Of course, you don’t take your shirt off, rather, you turn your back towards him with a murmured apology and lift the hem just enough for the wound to be visible. Clenching your teeth, you wait for his next actions.

A cold burn seeps through the edges of the wound and your skin feels hot and cold and tingly. This sensation continues in small jumps all over the open skin and you barely manage to breathe through it, hissing silently between your teeth when the worst part got touched by the cold fire of pure alcohol.

The dabbing stops and you barely feel his touches after that. Nothing but a ghost as the dressing is carefully taped to your back, covering the wound to protect it.

Only after the sensations of the tips of his fingers vanish (you think you might’ve felt them graze your skin a little bit more than necessary, but that surely is nothing but your wishful thinking), do you let your shirt fall back into place. Turning back to face him again, you smile.

“Thank you so much, Your Highness,” you say with a bow, trying to express your gratitude properly to him, but you suppose only actions will truly do that work for you.

For a moment, he just looks at you, gaze unfazed and calm. Just as Shouto opens his mouth to say something, does it seem like uncertainty is tainting his dazzling pupils. Closing his mouth again with a sigh and shutting his eyes, he simply dismisses you without any other explanation.

You’re almost keen to just stay and ask him for his motivations, but you know that no matter how close you feel to him, it’s all in your head and you’re nothing more than a mere subject of his future kingdom. So, you leave. Barely time for a simple glance towards him, meeting his eyes for a second, before the door closes behind you.

Despite your need to get away, to put some distance between you and him, you just stand in front of the door. The last attempt made you realize how close death could be, how precocious you have been acting, thinking that your mere presence could actually be of help to anyone, when actually all you were is an obstacle, standing between the assassins and Shouto. And while it might prove useful, to be a shortlasting barrier, the dull ache in your back made you realize that you want to be more, need to be more.

Something clicks in your mind, something that changes how you view this world, this world that once consisted of fictional beings merged into something more. A world filled with life and death and opportunities and missed chances. And you’re in the middle of it.

Straightening your back, you shove the rest of the implications to the side. There’s no time for you to actually dive deeper into this realization, what this could mean for you especially. Rather, you begin to walk down the hallway, towards the training hall, a certain objective in mind.

*-*

The sun is barely peeking behind the horizon, almost blinding you as you take a breather. At the beginning of your random training regime, you had barely managed to finish one lap around the training grounds before you started to lose your breath. Now, you just finished your second lap and your lungs started to burn towards the end of it. So, you suppose that you gained some stamina by just desperately putting one foot after the other. And normally, you would start another lap until you feel like you’re about to collapse, but today you want to try something new.

At least new to this body. You’re still not quite sure if this is your body or if it’s just one that looks like you. Especially because it feels like some muscle memory of your old life is still ingrained in you, but of a lower quality than you’re used to. That means you need to try everything with caution and act like it’s your first time to avoid any serious harm.

That’s why you had concentrated your efforts on building stamina and muscle with simple exercises. But today feels like you’re ready for a step up. So, after you catch your breath, you make your way to the rack filled with wooden weapons and grab one in the vague shape of a sword. It’s balance is alright and it’s comfortable in your grip. You actually don’t really want to wield a proper sword because it could be turned against you easily due to your lack of experience in actual fighting. That means that a wooden sword is just perfect. It gives you range and it can hurt enough to distract someone without actual injuries. (Unless you shove it into someone’s throat or stab it into their eyes or give them a heavy concussion or —)

Anyway, less harm but still quite effective for your endeavors of protecting Shouto in some way, even if it means to be a competent distraction.

You swing a couple of times to test your grip.

“What are you doing here?” a familiar voice sounds from behind you and as you almost jump out of your skin, you barely keep a hold of the wooden sword slipping out of your hand.

Hurriedly, you turn around, only to actually face Shouto. You immediately bow and mumble a greeting, glad that bowing to him makes him disappear from sight, because you caught a glance at the way his training pants hug his thighs and if you would have seen them for even one second longer your mind might’ve erupted.

Only when Shouto tells you to straighten up, do you fumble for an answer, eyes glued to the wooden stick in your hand.

“Uh, you see, I was just very curious about swords, uh, especially ones from wood. Just wanted to touch them, to feel their texture, uh,” with every word coming out of your mouth, you wanted to slap yourself so badly.

Even if you are supposed to be a jester does not mean you’re meant to be stupid after all. You really don’t want him to think of you as stupid.

You press your lips together to shut yourself up, you can’t even curse under your breath anymore. The heels of your feet dig into the dirt and you’re ready to speed away the moment he dismisses you, but–

“Then, let’s spar. Curiosity can only be satiated by knowing more than anticipated after all.”

He reaches past you, and suddenly his body is hovering over yours, his throat right in front of your eyes and you see as his soft skin dips into his fluttery shirt. If you lean towards him even the slightest bit, your lips would meet the tender spot where throat meets collarbones. Your hands are cramping by your side, one move and they would be able to reach him way too easily. The tips of his shoes tap softly against yours and his arm brushes your shoulder as he pulls back, a wooden sword in hand.

Only when he takes a couple steps away from you and towards the middle of the training ground do you release the breath you have been holding in. Despite your past inability to use your lungs, you notice how his smell still lingers around you. Some sort of mix between the smoky smell of a fire place and the refreshing one of mint, and you wonder if his lips taste like the mint he chewed–

You shake your head before the thought evolves and for a moment you want to excuse yourself and step back, but then you remember that Shouto had an almost fatal weakness. He continues to leave his left side open, and while his friends have helped him improve, sparring with people he’s familiar with will not help him grow. So, you decide to actually have a spar. Even if it’s just one.

Standing in front of him, you try your best to copy his stance. And as you’re only a beginner, he allows you to have the first move.

You rush towards him and he easily parries. Another strike, another parry. He stays on the defensive and you’re focused on getting to know how he moves. And then, you notice the opening. With a feint, you manage to get a hit on him. One that feels like it hurt you instead of him. But you can’t allow yourself to slack just yet. You continue to hit him on his left side every time he allows an opening. Until you take your chances to trip him.

While he’s falling, you don’t expect him to grab you by the wrist and pull you with him. That’s why you flounder and lose your chance to pin him down properly, as all you can think about is how you’re stradling him and how firm his muscles feel underneath your touch, weapon forgotten and limp in your grip.

If only you didn’t get distracted by the way he appears as he looks up to you from between the strands of hair and how the breath leaves his soft lips, and how much contact your bodies are making. If you had managed to react timely, then Shouto wouldn’t have had the chance to grab your waist to flip you over, pinning you underneath him. Your legs trapped between his and wrists caught in one of his hands. And due to the lack of support, he’s almost laying on top of you.

The worst thing is the look on his face as he glances down at you. He looks at you like you’re something to be astonished by, like you’re something truly worthy to wonder at.

The heat is slowly getting to your head and you quickly surrender before you blurt or do something embarrassing. Because there’s no way you would be able to stay still if he holds you any longer in that risquée position.

Shouto slowly pulls back, freeing you bit by bit, at such an excruciating pace, you almost try to pry your wrists out of his hold. But his soft skin against yours is something you want to continue to feel, the warmth of another person, of Shouto specifically.

After he straightened up, he still hasn’t let go of one of your wrists, gently pulling you into a sitting position. Still holding you, he lets his gaze travel over your covered face. (You refuse to pull off the mask outside of your assigned room, wary of the King and the rebel spies. That’s why you have been even wearing it during training.)

Still, despite the coverage it feels like his eyes are able to see you, to truly see the you behind the thin facade of the jester.

“I know what you’re doing,” he suddenly drops, and you stiffen up underneath his touch.

“What– What am I doing, Your Highness?”, you ask, afraid of the answer, no matter if it’s the right or wrong one.

A small sigh. “Since the moment you’ve stepped into my life, well, rather stumbled into it, you were always involved with the assassins around me…”

“Wha– No! It’s purely a coincidence! That’s all I do, stumble around!” you hurriedly try to deny whatever accusations are thrown your way.

Yet, none of your words seem to have any impact, he continues without regard for your protests. “You have been protecting me, why?”

That’s what makes you lose all words, all arguments. You can’t answer him. You can’t tell him that you have known everything from the very beginning. You can’t even tell him a half-truth half-lie, that you heard all kinds of conspiracies. None of these would work. Everything you might say will make you look suspicious. And you’d rather not lie to him.

So, you simply slip his hand off of you, and he lets you go without resistance, just with furrowed eyebrows at your motion.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter as you leave, avoiding answering him, risking breaking the fragile trust he has been building towards you. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is his survival, and effectively yours after everything is over. There’s no need for it to be more between you. (Even if you wanted to confess everything to him, to tell him how much you appreciate, even love him. But you can’t, you never will.)

(How could you tell him anything, to confess to him about you and your feelings when you’re all-too-aware of what’s about to come, what’s about to happen. You can’t afford to distract him during such a vital time, especially with all the effort you have put in towards making sure he’s alive and healthy… You might’ve accepted this world, but that does not mean that you have a place between its people…)

*-*

It’s supposed to be a simple meal with the royal family. That was the plan. Just King Enji with his children, trying to have some sort of get-together once again. It’s supposed to be simple, as normal as a family of their caliber should be. Shouto has even requested your presence during the meal, as a means to get the King to have an early death due to his blood pressure, maybe.

But you know. You know what’s supposed to happen. And you still came, still decided to have his back even during the climax of his story. One where he’s supposed to perish, but now won’t. Your interference has led to him still being strong and healthy as the Crown Prince is supposed to be.

He won’t lose. The story won’t end in a tragedy.

The door breaks. Pressure putting cracks into its hard wood and splinters fly everywhere. Surrounding knights immediately step forward, building a line of defense between the royal family and whoever is on the other side. Kind Enji barely glances from his meal, even if Shouto has risen to his feet, ready to protect his family if needed.

Your own fingers find the hidden hilt of the stolen dagger, still buried in the space of your clothes. But you don’t step forward. Your fate lies in him, no matter what happens, he shall rise triumphantly.

For a moment, only the clatter of silverware permeates the silence. Until footsteps echo through the hall. Their beat indicates a slight swagger, one confirmed once a black haired individual comes into your sight. You swallow back a gasp. The descriptions in the book would have never led you to believe the extensive scarring stretching over bones, barely healed burns with a shine of purple. Something of pain and suffering. Something a child never should have gone through.

“Ah, Father, did you miss me?” a raspy voice rumbles and fills the air, choking everyone who hears these words.

A crash. The chair resembling a throne has fallen with the vigor of movement from King Enji.

“Speak no lies! Touya has perished long ago!” his powerful voice on the verge of a crack, resembling a man standing at a cliff refusing to see the way down to his end.

“Father, dearest. Your words wound me so, I shall do my best to prove my worth to you,” Tou– no, Dabi clutches his chest dramatically, laughter tinting his voice, another type of crack, one that desires the jump oh-so-much.

Before any of the guards could react, everyone too shocked by the reveal in front of them, Dabi grabs a pitcher filled with water, water meant to be served to royalty.

Yet, he does not simply take a swig, rather, he lets the liquid pour onto his hair, staining his shirt with the blackness that once stained him, revealing white with such purity as snow, a white resembling the one the heads of the royal offspring.

This time, everyone else gasps, you think to see wetness rimming Princess Fuyumi’s eyes at the sight of her long lost brother. Worse even, Kind Enji’s shoulders seem to sack down, as if a sudden weight has returned to him after thinking he was free of the burden.

But no one gets enough time to process the dead coming back to life, as the whisper of metal death resounds. Dabi, who managed to get closer with each person shocked by his appearance, is now wielding a sword. The distance between him and the King is but a jump, one he’s eager to commit, even if it may lead to his demise.

“I’m remorseful, truly, but we have to say goodbye, Father, you possess something I desire and only your death shall allow me to bring it into my possession,” he grins, swinging the blade towards his very own father.

Before cold metal meets warm one, there’s noise of metal against metal. Shouto has jumped in front of Dabi and has parried his intent to kill with the will to protect. You watch as he glances towards the guards, the ones who had gotten busy with the barrage of rebels in the meantime, blocking any effort to try and defend against the true adversary.

But Shouto is still here, his sword steady in hand and mind as clear as his eyes as he locks not only swords but eyes with the brother he has never known.

“Well, isn’t it nice to meet the perfect little Crown Prince? The one who took everything away from me!”

The grin Dabi has worn turns upside down into a snarl, one filled with a different anger, an anger caused by what might have been, one that knows that everything was out of their control, yet why does he have to suffer so?

His attacks seem never stopping, only thinking about moving forwards, about defeating the opponent, barely noticing the way his skin strains, the way Shouto’s blade glides over him, making him bleed oh-so-slowly.

A slash towards the left side of Shouto, and you wince, but blood shall not be spilled and Shouto manages to parry it, even if barely with the touch of a feather. The metal clashes and vibrates, and it seems like the unending cuts and wounds, alone amounting to nothing, but together building a fountain, have started to make an effect. Dabi’s swagger turns into a stagger. His hands tremble as he holds onto the sword with all his might, still swinging and swinging and swinging. But never hitting.

You will never know what motivated Shouto, you will never know what the future holds anymore. But that’s a good thing. Nobody is supposed to know that much, and your lack of knowledge about the coming events means that doom has been subverted. So, you will never know why Shouto has simply decided to wound Dabi, to give him a last act of mercy as he saves him from himself. Maybe he wants to give him another chance, a life where he could be whatever he wanted to be, and maybe Shouto wanted a little bit more freedom. But those are your guesses, and this Shouto is the one you have known for such a long time, but a different one nonetheless.

But that doesn’t matter, you love him all the same, and with his safety secured, you don’t need to know more.

With silent steps you leave the hall, walking towards the room Shouto uses the most. With this ending, there is no need for you in this place anymore. And you should be content. But you can’t. You feel sorrow burying in your heart, digging itself into your veins at the thought of leaving him behind, of never seeing him again. But you must. How dare you stay for no reason at all? You’re not needed, and they –he– won’t miss a mere jester.

Opening the door of his office, you don’t look around, too afraid that you might change your mind at the sight of his belongings. You leave a letter, one to resign, but also one to say goodbye, and by its side you rest your mask, something that has belonged to you, but shall no more. You leave it behind to close this chapter behind you, to refuse to remember everything at its sight in your home.

And then the door clicks behind you and there’s nothing but home, nothing but the little hut in the woods waiting for you.

*-*

It has been some time since you have last visited the village. You’re going to be honest, you don’t need to. Despite the amount of money you own being enough for you to survive comfortably, you decided to make your own little garden, to cultivate your own food and to distract yourself, among other reasons.

So, of course you’re surprised when a couple of soldiers stop by your place, as most of the news never reaches your little place. They barely talk to you, rather, they ask if you live here and simply nod at your response before marching off again.

Scratching your head as you look after them, you shrug it off. As far as you’re aware, you’re not violating any laws or something. This is technically your property, so you suppose you would have a pretty strong standing if there’s a court or whatever they do around here.

What you did not expect is for another person to emerge. One that practically glows under the rays of the sun, his dual-colored hair shining like ice and fire as the breeze plays with them. At this sight you immediately drop whatever utensil you’ve been using to work in the garden. A curse under your breath and you push the hat you’re wearing lower in a weak attempt to hide your face.

Until the tips of his shoes appear in your vision and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes meet his and recognition flits through them.

Before you could utter any rambling excuse, Shouto kneels and takes your hand in his. He guides it to his lips. “My Savior”, he mutters against the back of your hand before he presses a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Ah, Y-Your Highness, please, stand up,” you fret over him, yet not pulling your hand out of his grasp, a part of you had missed his feathery touches against you, him being oh-so-careful every time skin touches skin.

He stands up and his free hand brings something to your face. You can’t help but close your eyes, only to feel a smooth surface against your face. Your mask. And his hand cups your cheek as he leans down. Your eyelashes flutter, his lips meet yours and you melt into him.

You fit into his touch as a mask fits a face, and you realize that this is where you belong, this is where you should be. Not only because fate has brought you to him, but also because he made you a place by his side from the very beginning. Love can be given and received, but a place to be loved has to be made, after all.

[doyouevenshipbr0]

gruvia drabble

author’s note: HI!!! ok so im here. im risen. im inspired. here’s something FUNNYYYY about the inspo for this… so its based off of a theory from an anti gr*via post LMAOOO this feels soooo bitchy but i swear to GOD it is not a call out it is just genuinely something that gave me inspiration. so basically an anti said that gray doesnt actually have feelings for juvia and he is just saying that he does because he feels indebted to her for saving his life. sorta kinda something like that. im not gonna go back and look bc tbh i may have blocked the account? JFJDKDJDJ idk. anyways. here’s this. you’ll see where my heads at in a sec bc ur probably like “ok so how tf is that gonna be a gruvia fic” just WAIT ok my gears are turning. this one is a lot longer (and possiblyyyyyy OOC but in my defense!!!!!!!!! picture how gray would act if he were in an established relationship with juvia. like boyfriend girlfriend. for six months.) than it should have been BUT lets call it even for my million year hiatus. ENJOY BABIES!

~

Although Juvia had hardly gotten any sleep this past night, rolling around in her sheets all night with excitement, she certainly walked with a spring in her step when she eagerly made her way to the local convenience store.

She would’ve been lying if she said she hadn’t thought about setting up camp outside the little shop that night so that way she could hold those glorious, glossy, pieces of paper bound together by glue as soon as physically possible. Fortunately, she was reasoned with when Gray quickly pointed out the ridiculousness of the notion after she had brought it up to him as a genuine idea.

Making sure to get up bright and early the day of the big release would do. As long as she would be the first person in the store with the very first copy of that week’s edition of Sorcerer Magazine in her hands, she would be content.

Naturally, Gray initially rejected the idea. It was so completely and irrevocably unlike him. An interview about himself, just him, was a tall order, but an interview with him and Juvia, as a couple? There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell. For Gray, opening up to the people closest to him was hard enough. Even finally getting the nerve to ask Juvia on a date was something that took a great deal of time and effort. Things so personal like this were hard for him.

All these years in Fairy Tail, and he’s hardly spoken more than a few sentences to Sorcerer Magazine, let alone sitting down for a tell-all interview.

Unfortunately for him, his enthusiastic water mage was over the moon when Sorcerer Magazine reached out to them for an interview.

Public displays of affection were never Gray’s strong suit, and after finally realizing his feelings for Juvia, he still isn’t a fan. As much as he would deny it, he had become quite a softy with Juvia behind closed doors, but as soon as those doors open, he retreats back to his shell-like and cool exterior.

Even after a good six months of dating, Juvia really didn’t mind. It’s not like he acted like he didn’t know her. They went on dates, they were finally an official item, and he would even do subtle things like resting his hand lightly on her leg under the table at the guild hall or give a “Love you, see you later” loud enough for Happy to hear even knowing he’ll snicker and tease Gray about it for the next few minutes.

All in all, they were both content with the amount of their relationship they let others see.

So something like an interview with a very popular magazine would certainly throw a wrench in all of that for Gray.

But Juvia begged, and begged, and begged, and finally, once they came to an agreement about the types of questions they would answer and the depth of their answers, Gray agreed to the interview. After all, it would make her happy, and he was comfortable enough with himself and his self esteem at this point to be able to do this for her.

Juvia was elated with how the interview went. Of course, she had done most of the talking, but she was happy to do so. She tried her best to hold back on doting too much as to save Gray some embarrassment, and she thought she mostly succeeded. Even when questions got a little personal, like asking about how Juvia got the scar on her side (of course, with her new stripping habit when in battle, her scar is easily visible for large enough periods of time), she answered as succinctly and lightly as possible while still giving an honest answer.

So to say the headline that Juvia saw that morning plastered on the front of that cold and stiff magazine was horrifying was an understatement.

“Gray and Juvia: Girlfriend or Guilt Trip?”

Juvia wasn’t sure how many times the clerk at the store had asked “Miss? Are you alright?” before her consciousness finally came back into this orbit. She blinked for the first time in what may have been minutes, and looked up at the clerk. Without giving a reply, she looked back down at the magazine, and saw the picture they used, which was Juvia clinging to Gray, wrapped around his arm.

Gray’s face in the picture became warped by a water droplet hitting the cover, and then another droplet, and then another. It wasn’t until she looked back up at the clerk who looked even more concerned than before that she realized those water droplets came from her eyes.

“Sorry.” She quietly said as she handed the magazine to the cashier so he could scan it, handed him a bill of some value that she wasn’t entirely sure of, took the magazine back into her trembling hand, and left the store without getting her change.

Juvia got back to her apartment even quicker than she got to the store that morning. Every part of her mind told her not to do it, not to read the magazine, but then why did she buy it? Her brain screamed at her to put it down, not to go to the page of that article, but then why did her fingers frantically flip to page 14, just as instructed on the cover?

Each word was not only a dagger to Juvia’s very soul, but also a twisted reasoning and explanation, that Juvia fully believed by the end of her read. She couldn’t quite make the words into sentences or the sentences into paragraphs but as she buried herself in her covers, some phrases repeatedly burned into her mind and punched her in the gut such as “clingy”, “desperate”, and “leech”.

The worst part of it all weren’t the attacks at Juvia, but it was what this all meant for Gray. He was trapped.

He was her prisoner.

A prisoner that was bound to her out of a crippling feeling of guilt and sense of responsibility.

She may have been in her bed writhing in agony and mortification over these words for hours until a bang on her apartment door jolted her back to reality.

“Juvia? You in there?” Said that voice she knew all too well. How could someone’s voice be both such a comfort and a misery? She needed to hear him more than anyone at this moment and yet, she couldn’t bear to hold him hostage for another second.

She hoped if she said nothing, he would go away. But this was not the case.

The door slowly opened. “Juvia? Are you here? I’m coming in.” She winced as his voice got closer, now coming from her living room.

Her apartment wasn’t very big, so he found her in her bedroom in the next few moments. All Gray could see was a lump that was seemingly her body, crunched up into a balled up position, bound under her covers. Not even her face was out.

He stood in her doorway, not wanting to fully intrude “So you are here. Good.” He said calmly. “I was kinda’ worried when you didn’t meet me at the cafe this morning like you said you would.” Juvia then remembered they had plans to get breakfast together, bright and early, so she could gush about their big debut as a couple. Those plans changed

“Oh.” She said softly. “Juvia is sorry Gray-sama.” She tried to speak as clearly as she could knowing her voice was muffled underneath her blanket. “Juvia didn’t feel well this morning.” She lied.

“Oh.” Gray replied. He took a step into the room. “You sick?” He stretched his neck over her a bit to see if he could get any sort of glimpse at her face, but to no avail.

“Yes.” Juvia sniffled, using her congestion from her tears as fuel for her lies. “Juvia thinks it’s just allergies.”

Gray raised an eyebrow. Something was off. “Allergies? Since when do you have allergies?”

Juvia remembered in this moment that lying was not one of her strong suits. She was far too unapologetically herself to ever lie about anything, and she was just plain bad at it. To say she doesn’t have a good poker face would be putting it lightly.

“Well— Um—!” The pitch in her voice jumped with nervousness. “This spring has been a really brutal one! Pollen has been all over the place, and it’s driving Juvia crazy!” She finished with a fake sneeze, sealing her fate.

“It’s November.” Gray said, dryly.

Juvia’s face lit up a red so bright, she was sure she was glowing from underneath her covers.

After a few more moments of no response as Juvia tried to think of her next plot, Gray spoke again. “And I know you wanted to see me at the crack ass of dawn so you could show me the newest Sorcerer Magazine edition.” Gray sat down at the edge of her bed. “Even if you were in an accident that tore off all your limbs, you would’ve been at that cafe, magazine in hand, ready to explode from excitement. There’s no way some sniffles would stop you.”

There was another pause. Juvia meekly responded. “Well. Since Juvia’s body is made of water, it’s actually impossible for me to have all my limbs torn off.”

Gray barely let her finish the sentence. “Juvia!” He snapped back, fed up with the antics.

“And what does it really matter?!” Juvia erupted from her covers, finally revealing her swollen eyes, puffy and blotchy face, and ratted hair to Gray, whose eyes softened with concern. “It’s not like Gray-sama wants to have to wake up at 7:00 AM to meet Juvia for breakfast anyway! Just for Juvia to show you a magazine that I made you be apart of against your will.” Her eyes were welling with tears.

Gray was taken aback. His eyes widened with surprise and confusion. “Well-“

“Don’t deny it.” She cut him off. “We both know it’s true.” Tears dripped down her hot cheeks. “Just like it’s true how Juvia clings to you, and suffocates you, and even forced you into a relationship.”

“Whoa!” Gray sat up straight, and turned himself more to position himself facing her on the bed.

“And I always thought Gray-Sama just finally let Juvia in.” She interrupted him again, and gripped the sheets of her bed within her fists. “But it’s got nothing to do with that.” She looked down and gritted her teeth.

“Gray-sama feels indebted to Juvia since Juvia saved his life.” She clenched her eyes shut, and felt tears melt from her eyes in pools.

Her tense body jolted and almost instantly released tension as she felt Gray’s sturdy hands grab onto the sides of her arms, clutching her.

Juvia opened her eyes and looked up to find him just an arm’s distance’s length from her, staring at her with so much intent it almost looked like anger.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice is low and gravelly. Juvia was glad her eyes would cloud with more tears so she didn’t have to see his dark eyes piercing into her. She looked away.

“The magazine.” She pulled one of her arms from Gray’s grasp and pulled the magazine in question out from under the covers where it rotted away with her minutes ago.

Shamefully, she held Sorcerer Magazine out to Gray who promptly took it from her hands. She was brave enough to watch his face as he first locked eyes with the cover, but wasn’t brave enough for anything else. She saw his scowl quickly scan the bold words and looked back down as she squeezed her eyes shut.

This was it. The end. He would see those red capital letters shouting at him, telling him “Run!”, and he would heed the advice. Of course he would. The magazine was right, after all. He would turn to page 14 just as eagerly as Juvia did and read, in gruesome detail, the truth of their relationship. At least after all of this, he would finally be free from her venomous clutches. He would be absolved of all guilt, now that the article plainly told him the truth of their situation. He would no longer have to pretend-

CRRSHH.

Juvia’s cruel daze was broken by the sounds of Gray tearing the magazine in half.

And then another half, and then one more half for good measure.

“Gray-Sama!” Juvia exclaimed, shocked.

“What a load of shit.” Gray said plainly, but with distinct irritation in his voice.

“But! You didn’t even read the article! It explained how-“

“I don’t give a fuck.” He interrupted and finally made eye contact with her once again once the magazine was finally in enough pieces to do no more harm.

“Well, you should.” Juvia looked down at the shards of Sorcerer Magazine.

“And why is that?”

“Because it all made sense. From start to end. Our relationship. I clung and clung and clung to you, and when I saved your life, you had no choice but to break for me. You felt like you owed me something. And that debt was big enough to do something as crazy as convince yourself that you love me.” Although Juvia explained the situation plainly and logically, her own words were like poison in her mouth, as tears had no choice but to fill her eyes again. She looked up at Gray who was at a loss for words.

This was good. There was nothing left to say. She smiled softly at the thought of their departure, and thus, Gray’s freedom. She knew she needed to swallow her tears, so she did.

“It’s ok.” She shook her head with her smile still curled through her lips. “You don’t have to force yourself to do this anymore. The debt is repaid. These last six months Juvia has spent with you have been filled with enough love to keep me content for a lifetime. We can go back to being friends, and we can both be happy.” Juvia paused and watched Gray’s brow furrow.

“Thank you for everything, Gray-sama. Loving you this closely for this long has been everything Juvia has ever wanted.” She closed her eyes, and a single tear crept through. She smiled thinking about how even though they won’t be together, she will love him for the rest of her life, and that was more than she ever deserved.

“That’s enough.” Was all Gray said as he used one hand to pull her head directly towards him onto his shoulder, and he wrapped the other around the middle of her back. They were positioned awkwardly because of how they were sat on the bed, but Gray didn’t care or even notice.

“Have you officially lost your mind?” Was his next question, and his tone was still low, but a bit softer.

“Eh?” Juvia was at a loss for words. How did she en up in his arms?

“I knew this stupid interview was a bad idea.” He grumbled, talking to himself, but obviously for Juvia to hear. “It’s a magazine. Of course they would twist our words into whatever made for a juicier story.”

“But-“

“Juvia,” Gray cut her off and sighed. He grabbed her by her shoulders, putting her back at arm’s length, and looked directly at her. “Here’s the truth.” He said certainly. Juvia’s eyebrows clenched with confusion.

“I’m not with you because I feel like I owe you anything. I’m with you because you’re clingy, you’re relentless, and you’re obnoxious about what you want, which is me.” Gray was serious. Juvia looked down in embarrassment.

Gray gently swept her bangs out of her face, and his hand traveled to her cheek where he cupped her face. She had no choice but to look back at him.

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He finally smiled, and Juvia’s heart oozed.

“What?” She whispered.

“You’re the most passionate, determined, loyal, genuine, kind person I’ve ever met in my entire life. You were the person who showed me that not only did I deserve love, but I was capable of loving. After all the people I lost, I had walls on top of walls on top of walls. And one by one, you broke each barrier down with a smile in your face.” He used a thumb to swipe away a tear, and Juvia let out a chuckle.

“Never in my life did I think I would think about stuff like romance or love. I was too scared. Now I think about having an actual future with somebody. And I know for sure that somebody is you.” Gray was saying things that Juvia only heard in her wildest dreams.

“Really?” Juvia grabbed onto the hand that held her face.

Gray nodded. “The way you’ve loved me has showed me how to love, Juvia. It took me awhile to get that, but I got it.”

He paused. He looked at the shred of magazing beneath him. “Not only is the person who wrote this article too stupid to know that I would never do something I don’t want to do or be with someone I don’t want to be with, but they’re also too stupid to know that you are the best thing in my life. A ‘guilt trip’ couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Juvia smiled, and instinctively her hand reached down for her scar, remembering how her sacrifice to save Gray’s life was what brought forth that term. Guilt trip. Gray took note of her hand placement, and knew she was thinking about this.

“Yes, you saved my life, and that may have been the moment that changed everything for me— for us, but not because I felt like I owed you, but because seeing how close I came to losing you made me realize that life is short. And up until then, I had spent all that time pushing everything off when I should’ve been letting you in. That moment made me finally realize that.” He looked at her deeply. “And I know I love you.”

“I love you too, Gray-sama.” Juvia finally allowed herself to melt in his arms, and he wrapped her up in his warm embrace.

“Y’knowww~” Juvia almost sang. “Saying you see a future with Juvia is practically the same thing as a proposal.” She snuggled closer into him.

“Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Gray reflexively replied.

Juvia giggled and nuzzled even further into Gray’s chest. “Thank you, Gray-sama.”

Gray and Juvia held each other for a little while longer as the discards of Sorcerer Magazine crumpled and bunched up within the covers where they sat, but they didn’t care.

They let the words be buried beneath them.

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | SLOTH

Sloth: an excessive laziness or the failure to act and utilize one’s talents

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 16k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), face fucking, masturbation (f!receiving), mentions of female masturbation, mentions of sex toys, light bondage play, orgasm denial, impact play, sir kink, praise, degradation, name calling, dom/sub, bratty sub, choking, spanking, lots of dirty talk, mentions of blood, (this is just filthy for the most part tbh), crying, mentions of addiction, drinking, swearing, fluff, sorry if i miss any!!

Merry Christmas from me to you (if ya celebrate)! I sincerely hope you like this as much as I liked writing it. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (Very lightly edited) also, if you haven’t yet, check out the playlist i made linked on the Masterlist! Much love 🫶🏻

You cut the power to the element of your stove, giving the contents of the frying pan one last stir before moving it to the side. The sun outside was shining in through the windows, the golden rays powerful as a last ditch attempt to lighten the land before setting for the night. You took a sip from your wine glass as you grabbed the pot of pasta noodles and brought them to the sink to strain. Music was drifting through the air, and the candle burning on the countertop offset the strong smell of the pasta sauce you had just finished cooking. Your hair was still damp from your shower, and light makeup was dusted on your face. You were dressed comfortably, but still took the time to pick out a nice outfit for the occasion. All of the classic telltale signs of romance was lingering in the atmosphere, yet you still had yet to come to terms with the fact.

You were preparing for a date, even if you refused to admit to it.

You brought the pot back to the stove, adding the pasta to your sauce and combining the two. Just as you finished washing your hands to rid yourself from the mess you made, your doorbell rang. With a small sigh of approval, you looked over your work before running to answer the door. You nervously combed through your hair with your fingers, trying to contain your excitement as you flipped the lock and twisted the knob to reveal the body waiting on the other side. Jake stood with a smile on his lips, a bag slung over his shoulder, and a seemingly expensive bottle of wine held in his hand.

“Hi,” You breathed, stepping aside to allow him entry. It had been a few days since seeing him, and you hated to admit to the fact that you had genuinely missed him. The calls and texts were still plentiful, yet his presence in your home was more appreciated than you realized.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He chuckled at your expression, feeling the same way you were feeling. Being apart from you was similar to a withdrawal from substance, yet a million times more powerful. His bed felt so empty that sometimes, he thought that sleeping on the couch would be a better way to spend the night. “I brought wine. I thought if I brought flowers, you might punch me.”

“Good call.” You agreed, taking it from his hand so he could balance the rest of his belongings with ease. “You didn’t have to bring anything, you know.”

“I wanted to.” He said, following you as you walked back to the kitchen. “It’s our first dinner together. It’s a momentous occasion.” You rolled your eyes, placing the bottle next to the one you had already opened in the fridge.

“I told you not to make a big deal out of it. I was cooking already; you’re not special.” You closed the door to the refrigerator and straightened up. As soon as you did, you felt a pair of hands snake around your waist. You hated that your heart sped in reaction to the touch, and you what you hated even more was that you melted into the feeling, leaning back into him and closing your eyes to enjoy the moment.

“Not special?” He hummed, his fingers inching under your shirt and settling on the soft skin just below the fabric. “Don’t hurt my feelings, angel.”

“You’ll survive.” You assured him, turning around to face him. He caught your eye, giving you a smile. “Thanks for coming.” You felt guilty about your harshness, and upon catching sight of his face, your tough exterior seemed to melt away. He was used to your brashness, and it never seemed to phase him. When you turned to face him, his face held so much adoration that it almost seemed like you never insulted him at all.

“Thanks for inviting me.” He leaned down, capturing you in a small kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer in hopes of making up for the days of missing him. You were too stubborn to hug him, feeling that the innocent intimacy was too much, so you only allowed it when his lips were locked with your own. It was a cheat, your way of breaking your own rules, but he abided without argument. When he pulled away, he held you there for a moment, taking a long look over your face in hopes of familiarizing himself with your features again. Although, he did not have to try very hard; the picture of your face was the only thing his mind had been able to formulate since the last time he saw you.

Casual was becoming harder and harder with every day that passed, but neither of you felt the need to address it. You thought that by ignoring the growing feelings, they would die in the same place they blossomed. Your laziness in regards to discussing your relationship had not yet caused an issue, yet the longer you let it go, the more dangerous it became.

“You look nice.” You said, straightening out the collar of his shirt. “Didn’t need to dress up for me.”

“Maybe I wanted to,” he offered, raising a gentle hand to your cheek. His thumb drifted across the smooth skin, sending goosebumps across your whole body. Now that your past was out in the air and he knew more about you than you ever wanted him to, your comfortability had grown immeasurably stronger. Every time he touched you, he seemed to exude even more caution. It was his inconspicuous way of saying he would never touch you in any way other than loving, and you would have chastised him for it if you didn’t like it so much. His gentle hand was the reason you trusted him as much as you did, and it had been so long since you felt a touch so calming that you could not seem to turn him away. “Ever think of that?”

“I did, but I was hoping I wasn’t right.” You teased, feeling your walls of fear slowly crumbling to the ground the longer he looked into your eyes.

“Too bad.” He shrugged, his sympathy barely existing.

“You hungry?” You asked, changing topics so you did not have to focus on his need to impress you.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his eyes flickering to the stove. “Food looks fantastic, but what would you say if I told you that I have something even better in mind?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna discredit all of my hard work just for sex?” You teased, but you weren’t completely disinterested in his idea.

“You’re right, how rude of me.” He chuckled. “Let’s eat, sweetheart.” He leaned down, giving you another quick kiss before parting from you. You took to the stove, grabbing the plates you had set out before he arrived. “Anything I can help with?” He watched as you prepared the food for both of you.

“You can sit at the table so you’re not in my way?” You offered, giving him a small smile as you looked back over your shoulder.

“My apologies; didn’t realize how strict your kitchen rules were.” He laughed, but adhered to your request and took a seat at the table. Within a few moments, you brought both plates over and sat them down in front of your respective seats. Then, you filled up a second wine glass and returned back to the table. You placed one in front of him before taking a seat yourself. “Would it be too much to say that I missed you?” He asked, now especially careful to tread lightly when it came to your boundaries. After your confessional in his car the night you met his brothers, he was even more terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing and in turn, driving you away. Although denial was your most favourite pastime, you failed to see that being so fearful of losing each other was the furthest thing from casual that you could get.

“I’ll allow it, but only because I missed you too.” You chuckled, sipping at your wine.

“This is delicious, by the way.” He noted.

“Thanks. You’ve been too busy to come and see me, so I figured I had to impress you to make sure you’re not forgetting about me.” You teased.

“Like I said before, angel, forgetting you has never been my intent. In truth, it’s never really been an option.” He assured you, catching your eye so you could see the sincerity in his gaze.

“Would it be selfish of me to say that I’m glad for that?” You phrased your question similar to how he asked you his own just minutes before.

“No,” he shook his head “I’d feel the same if it were the other way around.” You smiled at his words, burying your face in your wine glass to hide the rosiness of your cheeks. “And I wasn’t too busy for you; life just gets crazy sometimes.”

“I know, I’m only teasing.” You promised. “How’s work going?”

“Good, we just finished up writing the last touches on the album. Think next week we’re going to start recording.”

“Exciting.” You hummed. “I think maybe it’s time I listened to some of your music, since we’re friends and all.” You laughed nervously, embarrassed that you’d known him for weeks and had yet to hear him play. It was your way of keeping the barrier between you, ensuring that your lives didn’t intertwine too delicately, but it was long overdue. You were putting off the inevitable, and listening to a song he wrote did not equate to marriage, even if you previously thought so.

“Whenever you want.” He smiled. He didn’t want to push it on you, and he was more than willing to wait until you were ready. As much as he’d like to play all day for you, he would only enjoy it if you were enjoying it, too. “How’s work for you?”

“Oh, the same.” You shrugged. “Did another wedding, a maternity, and a first birthday party.” You listed. “I wasn’t going to do the birthday party, but babies are just too cute to refuse, especially when they get their hands on their little birthday cake.” You laughed. He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, watching you with curiosity. He didn't peg you for someone to go crazy over babies, yet he found it oddly fitting. “What?” You asked, noticing his change in expression. “I like kids, but it doesn’t mean I want any.”

“Never said there was anything wrong with it,” he defended “just took me by surprise is all.” You shifted in your seat, nervous that he was reading too much into the simple statement. “I’d like to see some of your work, if you’re ever willing.”

“Maybe.” You offered, both of you knowing that it was unlikely that you ever would. The rest of the meal was shared in silence, but it was not uncomfortable for either of you. You didn’t know how to carry on the conversation, and he was just happy to be with you. When you were both finished eating, you cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the sink. Before you could turn around, you felt the same familiar pair of hands on your hips, jumping at the suddenness of his actions. He leaned down, pressing his lips into the skin just below your ear with great caution. A shiver ran down your spine at the feeling, and your eyes fluttered closed at the bliss that came along with it.

“Thank you.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over any available inch of you.

“You’re welcome.” You responded, resting your hands over his which he had slid to your stomach. He pulled you in to him a little further, another subtle way of hugging you without making it into a grand show of affection.

“Interested in dessert, by any chance?” He purred, his teeth sinking into your earlobe. You couldn’t help but smile at him, knowing that dinner was nothing short of torture to him after going so long without you.

“Can’t wait to get me in bed?” You teased, but your body was betraying you. As his fingers danced over your skin, you let out a shaky breath. You missed him just as much as he missed you, and you were eager to get his clothes off, too.

“I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?” His fingers dipped below the waistband of your leggings, settling on the elastic of your underwear but advancing no further until you gave him permission.

“I think you can wait a little longer,” you did not believe that either of you could, yet you couldn’t help but try your best to piss him off. “I have to do the dishes, Jacob.” There was something so compelling about the fire in his eye when you misbehaved, and you were searching for it like a lost child looking for a place to call home.

“I don’t think I can, angel.” His fingers slipped even further down, now resting contently underneath all layers of clothing. “I’ve been thinking about bending you over this countertop all fucking week.” He said, leaning forward slightly to lock you in place. You tried your best to cover it, but your breath hitched in your throat at the thought of the vulgarity. You couldn’t see him, but you knew there was a smirk on his lips from the reaction. “From the sound of it, you have been, too.” Your eyes fluttered closed, your mind focusing on the feeling of his fingers so close to your heat. You were aching for relief, and he’d barely even touched you. Your body needed him so desperately that not even you could comprehend it. “Right?” He pressed further, hoping for a verbal response.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, hoping he would continue on instead of teasing you. In truth, what he guessed did not even come close to the truth of how much you’d been thinking of him. It was more than just a passing thought of sex in the kitchen, or a night spent tangled up in each other. Every time you let your mind wander, it ended up in a grotesque picture of him taking you as he pleased, and it was not limited to the kitchen. Every time your eyes fell upon a surface in your house, you could picture the two of you together, cementing memories of sin until the end of time. He hadn’t left your mind once since the last time you were in his company, and dinner was a boring formality to bridge the gap between reuiniting and having him in every way you dreamed of in the passing days.

Your need for him was filthy, concupiscent and lacking any moral will. The devil had completely overtaken you, and you were so blind to his evil that you tricked yourself into believing you were happy to be chosen by him.

“Tell me how much you missed me, angel.” He ordered, finally moving his middle finger to your cunt. The touch was gentle, barely noticeable, yet it had enough strength to bring you to your knees. He ran the digit through your pooling arousal, trailing it up to your clit where he began tracing small, featherlight circles. His order was partially because he wanted to make you suffer, knowing that after so many days, it would be difficult for you to form any thoughts while he was touching you. A bigger part of him needed to hear it, because the desire to know he was needed by you was suffocating him.

“So much, Jake.” You whimpered, praying to a god that you were not even sure existed. If there was anything holy in the world, you were sure it would have stricken down any amount of evil, especially one as large as Jake possessed. Then again, you feared that he had too much power for any entity to control, feeding your fear of his devilish nature even further. “I thought about this every night.”

“You poor little thing,” he crooned, sympathy barely existing within him. “All alone with nobody here to take care of you.” His touch grew stronger, making your legs quiver underneath the weight of your body. “What did you do without me here?” His question, although seemingly simple, was opening the door to a lifetime of humiliation. He wanted to hear every dirty thing you got up to with only a picture of him in your mind. “I want to hear all about it, angel.” You could feel his erection pressing into your ass, noticing him growing more needy by the second.

As much as he loved to pretend he was in charge, he could never seem to harness enough strength to control his need for you.

Even if you didn’t know it, you were the sole holder of the power; you held the reins, and he was willing to go to the ends of the earth to please you.

“I bet you would.” You huffed, trying your best not to succumb to the pleasure his curious fingers were granting you. You lowered your shaking hands into the scalding water, feeling defeat fill you as you realized that not even the burn of the heat could overpower the godless man who was so keen on making you suffer. “I’m a little busy at the moment, though.”

“I would, and I will.” He corrected, unwilling to take any argument from you. “You can do your dishes, but I’m going to have my fun, sweetheart. You should know better by now.”

“I should,” you muttered, trying not to give in to the temptation of him. It was so much more fun to tease him, and you had committed yourself to the task since the very beginning. “Are you trying to show off? Upset that I’d rather do the dishes than have sex with you?” He’d grown so used to your antics that the insult did not even phase him. Instead, he let out a low chuckle as he pulled down the waistband of your pants with his free hand, settling it just below your ass.

“I don’t think you’re telling the truth, baby.” He called your bluff, his middle finger still focused intently on your clit. “She’s telling me everything I need to know.” A rush of emotion settled in the pit of your stomach, still finding his obscenity shocking, even if it was incredibly hot. “Now, answer the fucking question.” His tone was sharp, but not malicious. Yet, anyway. You knew if you played his game, you would reap the rewards. If you did what you so badly wanted to and mocked his authority, the consequences would be dire. You bit down on your lip, holding back a whimper begging to escape as you placed a clean plate on the rack to dry. The lack of clothing allowed for more freedom, and he was using it to his advantage. “Not talking tonight?” He questioned. “That’s new for you.”

“I was always told that if I didn’t have anything nice to say, I shouldn’t say anything at all.” You said through gritted teeth, your persistence prying another laugh from him.

“You’re such a brat, sometimes.” He let out a disapproving tsk, leaning in closer so his lips were resting on your ear. “Am I going to have to do all of the talking for you?” Instead of responding, you continued to wash the silverware as if you were completely alone in the home and the touch of his hand was not driving you to the brink of insanity. “Are you embarrassed, angel? Ashamed of all of the dirty things you did while wishing I was here with you?” You let out a scoff, but did not feed into his tyrant any further. “What was it, sweetheart? What did you use when you couldn’t get me out of your head? Your fingers?” He asked, his breath warm on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Did you lay in bed, nestled between all of those pillows?” His tone grew stronger with every word he spoke, his own desperation clear despite his commitment to the facade. “You probably put some music on, just something to listen to while you closed your eyes and pretended it was my hands touching you, instead.” His voice was low, laced with desire at the thought of your fingers dancing through your arousal caused by the memory of him. “Classic, gets the job done, but I don't think that’s what you got up to.” He debated his own words, smiling ever so slightly against you.

His intent was to drive you mad, and if there was one thing you knew about Jake, it was that he would die before he would ever surrender.

“Or maybe you went digging around in that box underneath your bed,” he theorized “you know, the one you only let me bring out when you’re really feeling adventurous.” He reminded you as if you did not know exactly which box he was speaking of. “Is it because you’d rather use it when you’re alone? Is it just there to do all of the work when I can’t be here to do it myself?” Your breath caught in your throat as his lips landed on the sensitive skin just under your ear. “That sounds more like it…” he trailed off, losing himself in the picture of a vibrator clutched in your hand and his name woven so delicately on your lips. “I bet you start slow, wanting to draw it out as long as possible to pass the time until I can come over, but you get so needy so quickly. I know that vibrator spends most of its time on the highest setting, but you’re such a little whore that you just can’t get enough and it still doesn’t do it for you.”

You could not hide the moan that fought its way to the surface, breaking through the air and effectively proving his point. You wanted him more than even he knew, but you were just too damn stubborn to admit it.

“Or do you spend your time in the shower, the hot water keeping you warm and the detachable shower head doing more than that little toy could ever handle?” He slowly sunk to his knees, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting you again. “I notice, sweetheart, and I know you put that there for a reason.” Just before he was eye-level with your cunt, with a bit of force, he pushed your top half down towards the counter. “So what is it? How have you been taking care of yourself without me here to help?” You were so lost in the moment that you barely registered his question, already thinking of the euphoria he would give you with help from the unholy spirit that graced his tongue. “Or was it all three?” He asked, his tone telling you that the revelation brought him to a moment of enlightenment. “You tried it all, but you just couldn’t seem to find anything that could replace me. Does that sound right to you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, finally giving in to his power. It was too strong to resist, and you were surprised you’d made it so far.

“Yes, what?” He growled, happy to hear you speak, yet displeased with the time it took for you to answer.

“Yes, sir.” You let out a shaky breath. “I tried it all, but it didn’t even come close to how good you make me feel.”

“Now you want to be good for me, hmm?” He taunted, knowing how badly you wanted him. “I know you can listen, angel. I don’t know why you try so hard to be so disrespectful.”

“M’sorry, Jake.” You pleaded, almost regretful for your standoffish remarks. You were willing to give him anything he wanted in hopes he would be kind to you.

“You’re not sorry, sweetheart.” He said, shaking his head. “If you want to do the dishes so bad, do them, but you better not stop or I will, too. And you better not cum until I say you can.” You gave a huff of annoyance, knowing that between your position and the things he was waiting to do to you, focusing on anything other than him would be nearly impossible. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You muttered, mildly irritated yet understanding that the consequences were solely because of your own actions.

“Good,” he said, nearly vibrating with excitement. From the minute he walked in the door, he’d been waiting to see you like this, and now that he had you just how he wanted you, he could not wait any longer. “Better get started, baby. Clocks ticking.” He reminded, pulling your leggings down just a little further. You bit your tongue, holding back any snide remarks as you continued on with your task. As soon as he noticed your hands moving, he sprung to action.

As soon as his tongue connected with your core, the bland household chore was the very last thing on your mind. The heat of his mouth and the precision of his movements made it nearly impossible to thing of anything else. He started slow, running his tongue through you to savour every bit of arousal that he’d been causing you. You let out a low groan, trying your best to keep your hands steady in the water as he tried his best to completely overtake your mind with pleasure. The two of you had been caught in a nasty battle of obstinacy since the very first moment you met, and it bled into every single interaction the two of you had together. He was desperate to prove a point, and you were eager to shoot him down.

“Fuck,” you hissed, your fingers tightening around the wine glass clutched in your hand as a sharp wave of pleasure took over. You used your other hand to support your weight on the counter, your legs already weak and the rest of your body beginning to feel just the same.

His tongue circled your clit, slowly but steadily tightening the knot in your belly. The pit of your stomach was ablaze with a fire that burned just for him, and you knew that he did not have to work very hard to send you over the edge. The days spent apart from him were equal to torture, and you had no idea how you survived before he showed up in your life and graced you with his touch.

Grace was a kind word, and nothing about his actions were graceful, nor were they anything close to kind. He was pure evil that took form in a human being, and every day that passed you were more convinced that you had fallen in lust with the devil reincarnate. He put up a great facade, always making you feel like his intent was coated with love and care, but he was a selfish being who just to happened to unintentionally form a soft spot for you. The devil knows no mercy, but somehow in the time the two of you spent together, it was a trait he had learned to accept.

Now, the devil still knows no mercy, except when it comes to you.

He loved to please himself, but over time, he had to face the harrowing reality that his survival was now dependent on your need for him above anything else. Although neither of you seemed able to shake the fear of connection, the situation you found yourselves in was not as simple or transparent as it once was. Casual sex was long gone, replaced with constant companionship disguised as a careless relationship with no strings attached. Your lives were intricately tied together, and you searched for each other even when you did not realize you were doing so. All you had feared seemed to come true, but you enjoyed Jake’s presence so much that you were yet to confront the truth.

Love surrounded you with every step you took. It was in the second dirty coffee cup that so often took post in your kitchen sink. It was in your dresser drawers, where Jake’s t-shirts lived on occasion when he forgot them, and especially when he neglected to bring them back to his own apartment upon realizing they were still at your house. It was in the longing glances at your phone screen, wondering when he would reply or if you would have to double text, and it was in the phone calls that lasted hours too long when the conversation started with a simple question that could be answered in seconds. It was right there in the room with you now, lingering at the dinner table after your shared meal and blatant in his desperation, his need for you so intense that he could not even wait until you finished cleaning. Although he loved to frame it as another way to torture you, the truth was that he knew he could not wait another second to have you. The position you found yourselves in was not because of his need to tease you, but because he thought he might succumb to death without you.

Love was everywhere, but two people who were so selfishly concerned with their own needs could not possibly fall without failing. Despite the emotion being spoken into every action, the two of you did not know how to love anymore, nor were you willing to try.

As said best by Dio: between the velvet lies, there’s a truth that’s hard as steel.

The lies the two of you were telling yourselves were so smooth and sweet that it made it so easy to ignore the obvious. When the comfort of your avoidance was no longer there to protect you, the blow from the truth would be so strong that it would take your life in an instant.

And just like that, the fourth capital vice took over, leaving your life bleeding with nothing but sinful energy and godless morals. Sloth had become you, only growing stronger as you showcased laziness in regards to your growing feelings. You thought that the longer you avoided the topic, the easier it would be to navigate it, yet as time passed, it only pushed you further into the devils hold. But, the slothful nature of your neglect was not even the worst infraction of your sin; the more pressing act had nothing to do with your lack of discussion of the obvious, but everything to do with your failure to utilize your own talent.

You were fantastic at loving Jake, and he was fantastic at loving you, yet neither of you harnessed the strength and instead pretended like love was your biggest weakness. The two of you loved each other so well that it was astounding, and everyone looking in on your relationship would never question the strength in which you felt or cared for each other. The two of you loved each other better than anyone ever had, but it was easier to pretend you didn’t. So, that’s what you did: you floated through life delicately intertwined with each other, yet refused to acknowledge that your feelings went any further than sexual. It was a dangerous little game, but the thrill was so good that it didn’t matter to you.

You were brough back to reality when a rush of pleasure took over, so strong that the glass in your hand slipped and plummeted back into the sink full of water. You could feel him smiling against you, happy his affect on you was so powerful. Instead of tantalizing you for it, he made it a point to work harder, his tongue moving so precisely that you did not even have the luxury of a single second to recover.

“Jake,” you gasped, your hands shaking as you tried to bargain with him. “I can’t do this.” You knew he was unlikely to give in, but you thought it was worth a try. Instead of a heeding your warning, he hummed against you and if it were even possible, seemed to put even more effort into pleasing you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let out a shaky breath, now completely ignoring the dirty dishes still sitting in the sink.

He let you enjoy it for a moment, but when he did not hear any progress being made on the unimportant chore, he pulled back from you, slipping his thumb to your clit. “What? You don’t care about the dishes, now?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, but you had no energy to chastise him for his actions. The only thing you were focused on was the burning in your belly that was growing more rapidly than you could possibly imagine.

“I-please, Jake.” You pleaded, insanity knocking on the door and begging to invade your mind.

“Please, what? What do you want, angel?” His thumb grew heavier, his intent to punish you for your disobedience. Your legs quivered and your knees bucked in response to the change. You didn’t know what you wanted from him; stopping was worse than certain death, but you knew you could not continue on with what he was asking of you. “Answer me.” His tone was heavy, authority dripping from his words.

“I can’t do this anymore. I need to cum. I need you.” You gasped, another wave of pleasure shooting through you. There were tears in your eyes, and you were desperate for a release. You were terrified of disobeying him because you knew he would not be likely to give you what you wanted if you did, but you could not continue on with daily tasks as if he was not bestowing you with the utmost of evil with his tongue.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to be a brat.” His was less than sympathetic, even if he did wish to fuck your over the counter without any further delays. The only thing he loved more than fucking you was watching you quiver under his touch. “So stubborn that you couldn’t even tell me what you got up to while I was gone. I don’t think it’s fair that I have to answer my own questions, sweetheart. Do you?”

“N-no,” you whimpered, barely keeping yourself upright any more. Your body had been infiltrated with every single bit of evil he held in his own, and you no longer belonged to yourself. You were fully at his disposal, willing to tell him whatever he wanted and to do whatever he asked with hopes for a shred of kindness.

“Right,” he crooned, happy that you had both reached the same conclusion. “So you’re going to do as I fucking say, and I don’t want to hear another word from you.” His voice was strong and his words were harsh, yet all it did was turn you on further. You knew that Jake could speak nothing but insults in your direction and you would fall at his feet in response. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You choked out the words amidst a moan, knowing that if he continued on at the same pace, you would never be able to stop yourself from reaching an orgasm. With that, he returned his mouth to you, driving you even closer to the edge.

Your vision was blurred with amount pleasure he was bestowing upon you, and your limbs were separate from your mind, yet somehow you managed to continue on washing the last few dishes left in the sink. Despite your growing desperation, you knew Jake well enough to know that it was the only way to get what you wanted. Your fingers barely clasped around the cutlery, but slowly you managed to dwindle the pile down to only a single plate. With relief in sight but just out of reach, you clasped the dish tightly in your hand as you wiped it clean. As you set it in the dish rack, a cry of triumph left your lips. Your orgasm was threatening you further with every second that passed, and in a lapse of judgement, you figured you would not inform him of your intentions to climax until it was too late.

You gripped at the edge of the counter so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Your eyes were crossed with stars and not even a hint of a moan was stuck in your throat. You were too stunned by the pleasure to do anything other than enjoy it, and you feared if your tried to say something, he would catch on to your game with little mercy for you. You weren’t sure if you could handle him pulling away, but you failed to realize that Jake was the last person in the world you could lie to.

A particularly sharp intake of breath told him all he needed to know, and a flood of anger filled him. Instead of letting you know that he caught on to your game, he decided to push you until the very last second. He suctioned his lips around your clit, focusing solely on getting you to the absolute brink of a climax. An involuntary moan filled the air, and you felt the pressure in your belly reach the point of no return. As you braced yourself for the storm waiting to come, suddenly, it stopped.

“No, Jake, please!” The words tore through your chest like a bullet, and the shame that normally came from begging him no longer existed.

“Did you think you’d get away with that?” He chuckled, making a move to stand. Once he was steady on his feet, you turned your head to look up at him, your eyes showing utter devastation at the loss of contact. “I told you not to cum unless I said so, angel. Seems like you still haven’t learned how to listen to me.”

“Jake, please, I’m sorry.” You said, pushing yourself up off the counter. His eyes drifted towards the sink, pleased that you’d managed to do at least one thing he’d asked of you.

“You’re not sorry, sweetheart.” He shook his head, helping you stand upright to join him. Your eyes studied his face, your heart yearning for him to move closer. He looked so angelic in the lowlight of the kitchen, but you knew it was untrue. He was not an angel, nor was he anything holy. The devil was in the details, and the details were something you’d grown incredibly aware of in the time you’d known him. Your arousal was glistening on his lips, which were so soft and inviting. There was a malicious glint in his eye, showcasing his displeasure with your actions, and the curl of his lips portrayed his anger as clear as day.

He was beautiful, and that much was true, but it was not beauty that would be splayed across a portrait hung on a church wall or carefully burned into stained glass; it was the kind of devastating beauty that the bible warns you about, once that’s so inviting and alluring but deadly once it’s within reach.

His hellish nature had become incredibly apparent, and although it was enough to scare the world away, it only seemed to pull you in further.

Perhaps it was not his charm that was drawing you in, but rather your likeness. You were not impressed by his otherworldly charm, but because you had a streak of evil coursing through your veins, too.

“If you’ve forgotten how to listen, maybe I’ve forgotten how to be nice.” He spoke slow, making sure every word hit you with an impact.

“As if you were ever nice in the first place.” You rolled your eyes, irritated and angry at him for denying you the pleasure. He cocked his head to the side, bringing his hand to your face and clasping his fingers around your chin in a tight hold. He guided your head upwards so you could not avoid looking him in the eyes.

“I think you know all about how nice I can be.” He corrected, his tone so dangerously soft that it made your skin crawl. “And you know that I’m only nice when it’s deserved. Do you think you deserve it, angel?” You watched him with a soft gaze, hoping that the lust shining so bright in your eyes would convince him to double back on his word. When he showed no sign of backing down, you shook your head against his hold.

“No, sir.”

“Why not?” He challenged, hoping to hear some sort of repentance in your answer.

Oh, how odd it is for the devil to expect repentance from someone when he has not even done it himself.

In your own devilish way, a spark of mischief flashed in your eyes as you responded with fake apologies.

“I’ve been so bad, sir.” You put on a dramatic display, mocking him as he stood before you with all the power in the world. “I’ve been such a bad girl for you, and bad girls don’t get what they want.” You gave an innocent smile, putting on your best show in hopes of making another clear display of disobedience. He gave you a pointed stare, showing his displeasure with your actions. “I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll do whatever you want to make up for it.” As you finished your sentence, his hand dropped from your chin and moved downwards to rest on your neck. You held his stare, neither of you willing to back down. “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear, sir?” His fingers tightened around your neck, gradually growing more comfortable as the seconds passed.

“My god you talk a lot, sweetheart.” His calm voice sent a shiver down your spine, knowing that the buttons you were pressing could have an explosive reaction. “You really know how to piss me off.” He said it almost as if it was a compliment, and you took it as one, too. To know that you had so much power over him in any way was exhilarating. “Let me tell you how this is going to work, okay?” He watched your face, waiting for another hint of argument in your eye. When it never came, he continued on. “You’re going to do as I say, and if you decide to listen this time, I might let you cum. If want to keep being be a brat, you can get yourself off after I go home. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You choked out, finding it hard to fill your lungs with enough air to speak. You wanted to blame it on his fingers locked around your throat, but you knew it was because his aura was so powerful that it stole the air directly from your lungs. You were fearful that he would not find enough kindness to grant you an orgasm, but you were even more fearful that he would go home without you after the night’s excitement came to an end. You would never admit it to him, but your bed was too empty without him in it, sleeping soundly beside you.

“Good,” he said, tightening his hold just a little more. Your head was beginning to swim with the familiar airy feeling and your chest was burning for a hint of oxygen. “Now get in your fucking room and take your clothes off.” He let go with a little more force than intended, causing you to stumble backwards slightly. His first reaction was to reach out and steady you, and to apologize for the intensity of his actions, but he was trying to prove a point. It was much too easy for him to dote on you, and he had to use all of his willpower to hold back.

You could not ignore the incessant ache between your legs as you made your way to the bedroom, partially from the denial of your orgasm, but mostly because of his authoritative tone and actions. You were a fool for Jake, undeniably in lust with him and willing to do whatever he wanted as long as there was a promise for him to keep touching you. As much as you liked to piss him off, you knew that at the end of the day, you would bend to his will until your bones snapped and you were stuck there permanently. He could get you to do whatever he pleased with a snap of his fingers and only minuscule argument. He was the first man to ever walk the earth that held enough power to bend your own will, and you were not even upset at him for the fact.

Once the door was closed and the two of you were locked in seclusion together, he leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you undress. You caught his eye, the submissive nature fleeing you for a moment once again. He did so good at getting you there, and you did fantastically at pulling yourself out of it.

A match made in heaven was not even close to what the two of you had. In fact, it was better described as a match made in the deepest depths of hell.

You slowly brought your hands to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly to give him a small flash of skin. Carefully and with great ease, you pulled the shirt from your body and lifted it over your head, discarding it on the floor. You moved on to your pants, bending down and sliding them off completely. His jaw was hard set as his eyes stayed glued to your figure, wondering what he ever did to deserve the company of such an angel.

But, you were not an angel, and the evil that ran through you was the only match to his own devilish attitude.

You reached behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra. When you let it fall from your shoulders, you could see his eyes darken even further. You pulled it away from your skin, tossing it on the floor but this time, in the direction of where he was standing. His stare broke from you only for a moment to watch the fabric flutter to the ground.

“Is this your way of saying sorry?” He raised an eyebrow, needing to comment on your half-assed strip-tease.

“Is it working?” You cocked your head to the side, a small smile on your lips. He chuckled at your expression, taking a step towards you. Within seconds, he was in front of you and his hands were on you again, much gentler than they were moments before. He was showing you remorse for his harsh treatment, but he wasn’t willing to give you a verbal apology.

“I think you’re going to have to work a little harder than that.” He said, looking down at your face. You figured as much, but you could help but notice the disappointment weighing on your shoulders. “Any ideas?” He asked.

“I think I have one.” You offered, giving him a real smile. Although his form of punishment was delaying your orgasm, he did not realize just how much pleasing him pleased you. Slowly, you sunk to your knees, not needing to wait for a response. His head fell backwards, a cocky smile stuck on his lips as he looked towards the ceiling. He was thrilled about your idea, and he could not have thought of a better resolution if he tried.

You unbuckled his belt, sliding it through the loops and throwing it down on the floor. He was painfully hard, his zipper begging to bust at the seam from the strain. As if to taunt him, you made the process as slow as possible. He was patient, knowing your game better than you played it. When you freed him from his pants, he helped you pull them off of him. He kicked them to the side, uncaring for any grace, and fixed his gaze on your face.

“Would this show you how sorry I am, sir?” You looked up at him, catching him off guard with an innocent eye. He took in a shark breath, nearly feral from the sight of you on your knees for him.

“That depends on how good of a job you do, angel.” He had no fear about your performance, nor had he ever. He was well aware of the effect you had on him, and he was certain that you could punch him in the face and he would thank you with tears in his eyes. Without another word, you pulled down his boxers, your mouth watering at the thought of making him feel as good as he made you feel.

You moved forward, parting your lips slightly to take him into your mouth. As you did, you let your tongue glide across the tip of his cock, the small movement sending a wave of euphoria through him. His hand reach down, tangling in your hair as he balled it into his fist. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, knowing immediately how pent up he was from the days spent away from you. Slowly, you took him further, focusing intently until you could feel him hit the back of your throat. He let out a hiss of pleasure, holding himself back from thrusting his hips in response to the feeling. He cared little about pushing you to any limit, and was more concerned with you working to make up for the attitude you had been giving him.

You bobbed your head down on him a few times, not giving him nearly enough relief from your slow pace. He fought the urge to take control, knowing that he could enjoy the moment without pushing you any further just yet. He wanted to see what you were capable of, and from there, he would decide if he could find enough kindness to get you off. He watched you carefully, noticing your eyes flicking towards his face every so often. You were making sure he was watching you, and he was making sure you were watching him. The two of you were intent on being the centre of attention, and there was nobody else in the world you wanted to be watched by.

You pulled back, already finding your face a mess with spit despite barely getting started. You withdrew a long breath, looking up at him with a hopeful expression. “Just like that?” You said, watching his eye twitch ever so slightly at the filthy question.

“Just like that, angel.” He agreed, pushing your head back towards his cock so it was resting on your lips. “Doing such a good job.” The praise sent anothe rush of arousal to your core; you were aching to be touched by him again, but touching him was doing just the same for you. You took him back into your mouth, speeding your movements just enough for him to notice the change. You would never tell him, but you were hoping for him to take control of the situation. Being used by Jake was one of the greatest pleasures you’d ever experienced.

Slowly, his hand applied more pressure on your head, guiding it down further with every move you made. You let out a moan against him, the vibration sending a whole new wave of pleasure through him. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth, angel.” He crooned, looking down at you as his chest heaved with his heavy breathing. “Do you like being my little whore?” The question struck you with the same intensity as a punch to the stomach. You thought you might fall over if not for his hand holding you in place. You locked eyes with him, unable to confirm the answer verbally, but hoping your expression would tell him enough. He took in a long breath, trying to keep his composure at the idea of you being so infatuated with him. He could tell he was right, and it was driving him to insanity.

With that, he gave an aggressive thrust of his hips, keeping your head in place so he didn’t stun you too much with the movement. The quick motion caused a gag to rise in your throat, constricting around him as he held himself there for a moment. Once you recovered from the shock, he began at a steady pace that was much faster than the one you had set. You tried to focus your breathing until he had pleased himself enough to pull away, but it was proving difficult. Once you thought you had caught up to his speed, he began moving your head down on him in time with his hips. Tears were threatening to spill onto your cheeks, and your desire for a breath of air was growing more dire by the second, but you persevered.

“You take it so fucking good.” He hissed, now completely lost in the pleasure he was feeling. The words were nearly too much for you, and you were desperate for relief. You figured that he would not notice if your hand slipped between your legs, or if he did, he would not care. As he fucked your face, you reached your hand between your legs and let your finger trace around your clit. The stimulation was not nearly as much as you needed, nor anything comparable to what he could do for you, but it was something. The small waves of pleasure that you were feeling allowed you to continue on with his brutal pace, distracting you from the roughness and satiating your need for him just a little longer.

You were a fool for thinking you could sneak anything past the devil.

His eyes drifted downwards towards you, taking a moment to fully understand the reality as the haze of sexual energy surrounded him. As his eyes came into focus, they first landed on your face, revelling in your beauty and moved by your likeness to an Angel. Then, his gaze caught your arm that was tucked neatly out of view. He moved his head to the side, a wicked smirk stuck on his lips as he noticed your fingers trying to relieve yourself of the ache that was bothering you so badly. You hadn’t noticed his stare lingering on you, and you did not know he had noticed and taken note of your disobedience yet again. Instead of punishing you, he decided to see how long it would take for you to realize.

Now crazed for a whole new reason, his movements remained steady as he watched you please yourself. He could see it in your face, even as you tried to keep up with his movements. The furrow of your eyebrow was familiar to him, as was the moans you were letting out when the situation permitted it. The expression and the sounds had nothing to do with his cock down your throat, and it had everything to do with the orgasm that was building steadily. He let you go until he knew you were just about to reach the peak, angry at you for not knowing how to listen, but also enthralled in the beauty of your euphoria. Knowing you were so willing to make him feel good, and knowing that it turned you into a mess in turn did the exact same to him.

You took a particularly sharp intake of breath, and he knew his tirade had to come to an end. With great reluctance, he pulled your head off of him, but not even that could distract you from the pleasure threatening to take hold. You were lost in your own world, but he couldn’t seem to find the generosity to allow it.

In a flash, his hand struck your cheek with enough force to shock you back to reality. It wasn’t nearly enough to harm you, nor cause any lasting pain, but it did exactly what he intended for it to do. You looked up at him, eyes wide in terror that you’d been caught in the act. “You were so close, sweetheart.” He gave a small shake of his head, his chest still heaving for a full breath of air. “You almost had me convinced that you could be good for me.”

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You apologized, the words falling from your lips in a mess. This time, the apology was genuine, and you felt terrible about disobeying him. Although it was genuine, it was wholeheartedly for the sake of selfishness.

“I’m the one that should be sorry, angel.” He sighed, motioning with his hand for you stand. “I should know better. You’ll always be a brat,” he continued, making sure you were steady on your feet before he pushed you towards the bed. “But it doesn’t really mattter, because I know exactly how to handle you.”

“Jake please, I promise I’ll be so good for you.” You pleaded, feeling your legs hit the mattress as you tried to back away from him. The fire in his eye was dangerous, but it was enticing. As much as you tried to plead with him to change his mind, you knew you would enjoy whatever he had in store for punishment.

“For some strange reason, I don’t believe you sweetheart.” He chuckled, finding your empty promises comical. He leaned down, grabbing his belt from the floor and taking a long look at it as he straightened up again. “Since you don’t know how to behave, I’ll have to make sure your hands don’t go wandering again. We wouldn’t want you to cum without permission, right?”

“Right,” you muttered, knowing you were fighting a losing battle. Without any further argument, you extended your hands towards him.

“I’ll strike you a deal, just because you’re so damn pretty.” He sighed, unable to resist the urge to coddle you. “If you can be good for me, I’ll consider taking these off.” He looped the leather around your wrists, pulling it until it was tight enough to keep them in place. He didn’t push it any further, too nervous about making it too tight. “Does that sound alright?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded.

“You better be on your best behaviour angel, because this is your last chance. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You repeated. He let out a hum of appreciation at your obedient tone, happy to hear your change of heart.

“Now we can finish what we started with no interruptions.” He smiled down at you. “On the bed, on your hands and knees.” He ordered, watching as you scrambled to get into position. You knew you’d pushed him a little too far, and he was no longer willing to play nice. “Isn’t it so much easier when you do as your told? No punishments, no arguments… unless that’s what you’re hoping for?” He took a step towards you, watching as you looked up at him as you anticipated his next move. “Is that what you want, angel? You want me to treat you like a whore?” You averted your gaze from his face, instead looking down at his cock that was eye-level with you. It was painfully hard, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum from the excitement that came before your rude interruption. “Do you like it when I punish you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, eager to have him in your mouth again. He let out a low chuckle, amazed at the sight before him. When he first met you that night at the bar, he knew he had a slim chance at ending up in your bed at all. He never expected to have you on your knees for him, willing to do whatever was asked of you just to please him.

“Maybe that’s what’s wrong. I’m not hard enough on you. I let you get away with too much, and now you think you can do whatever you want.” He brought his hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb across the soft, blushed skin. “Do I have to remind you who’s in charge? Will that fix your little attitude problem?”

“No, sir.” You whispered, but it was weak and he knew that you wanted exactly what he said.

“You have to be a little more convincing than that, baby.” He said, the tip of his cock now practically resting on your lips. You were barely able to contain your excitement, thrilled at the idea of pleasing him again. “Maybe that’s what I’ll have to do then, since you don’t seem to have a better solution.”

“Whatever you want, sir.” You breathed, your eyes flickering up towards his face. The crazed look in his eye was paired dangerously with the tensed muscle in his jaw. He was feral for you, and he wasn’t afraid to show it anymore. You did something to him nobody else ever could, and he knew that when your clothes were back on and you were nestled under the covers for the night, that feeling would still be burning in his chest.

He had fallen for you beyond anything he ever believed he could feel, and with every minute that passed, he descended even further into the depths of loving you.

Without any further guidance, you opened your mouth and ran your tongue gently across the sensitive skin. He let out a sharp sigh, shuddering at the feeling. Slowly, you took the head of his cock in your mouth and suctioned your cheeks slightly, moving your head down on him. Worked up from the last time, the sensation was now even more intense and he could not hold back the moan that was stuck in his throat. The sound settled in the pit of your stomach, your arousal nearly too much to handle, now. With the loss of your hands, you feared you might die from your need for him if it was not taken care of soon enough.

“That’s my girl.” He said, his eyes fixated on your face. “I knew you could be good for me.” You hummed against him, showing your appreciation for the praise. Although part of your obedience came from your desire to orgasm, a bigger part was just because he was so hard to deny. Fighting and arguing was in your nature, but when it came down to it, you knew that you would always give him what he wanted. His sweet words and soft touch was better than any drug, and knowing he felt the same about you was exhilarating.

You had fallen just as hard, and you were both playing the devil’s advocate by denouncing love while feeling it so strongly. By reminding each other romance was out of the question, you were hoping that it would open a bigger discussion on the topic. Although actively trying to ignore the obvious, a deeper part of you was desperate to bring it up. You knew that there was no way you were the only one feeling that way, and you were aching to hear him say all of the words you had been too scared to speak.

Jakes hand tangled in your hair again, holding your head steady as he took control once again. His hips moved forward, his pace starting slow so he could work himself back up to the one you were engaging in previously. The ache between your legs was unbearable, but you had no other choice but to persevere. Tears were brimming your eyes again, and every time he moved a gag was begging to be had. He was much closer than he was the last time, and his movements were much sloppier. The moans falling from his lips were the most heavenly thing you’d ever heard, and that was the only thing keeping you going.

“It’s so much more peaceful when you can’t fucking talk.” He growled, the pleasure creeping up on him growing more intense by the second. “Now I know how to shut you up.” If he was not using your mouth for his own sexual pleasure, you would have laughed at his comment. He knew just as well as you did that it was in fact the only reason you weren’t slinging insults at him. You moaned against him, playing into his little power trip in hopes of speeding up the process. Every time his cock hit the back of your throat, you knew he was growing closer to a climax. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it angel?” You let out another noise, your enthusiasm driving him even closer to the edge. “Should just cum in your mouth and leave you here like this. That would teach you a lesson, wouldn’t it angel?” You let out another groan, but this one filled with discontent at his words. You both knew he would never even dream of doing such a thing, but you feared if you didn’t disagree, he might actually follow through with it.

You felt him twitch in your mouth as a slur of curses fell from his lips, but he pulled away with enough time to avoid an orgasm. You looked up at him, your face red and your eyes watering, but he still thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the pleasure of looking at. The room was a mess of heavy breathing and sexual tension, and neither of you could withstand the pressure any longer. After one last look over your face, he took a step to the side and out of your line of vision. Now, the only thing you could see was your reflection in the mirror placed meticulously by the wall in front of your bed.

His hand drifted over your bare back with a delicate touch after he undressed himself completely. He climbed into bed behind you, looking at your face in the mirror. His fingers gripped your hips as a smile began blossoming on his lips. He’d been waiting for this all night, and now that the moment had arrived, he was nearly vibrating with excitement. “Do you want me to fuck you, angel?” He whispered, his voice barely breaking through the silence.

“Yes, please.” You pleaded, knowing that you were still completely at his mercy. You could not move from your position, nor could you change his mind if he decided to continue torturing you.

“How bad do you want it?” His hand drifted between your legs, his finger finding your clit with ease. You took in a sharp breath at the feeling, already overwhelmed and he had barely even touched you.

“So bad, Jake.” You whimpered, out of your mind with lust for him. You needed him so badly you were delirious at the thought. “Please, baby. I need you.” You watched him through the reflection, seeing his eyes close in bliss at your words.

“How can I say no to you when you say it like that?” He asked, his tone airy and completely clouded with desire for you. He no longer had the willpower to tease you, and it was becoming more apparent by the second. For a moment longer, he let his finger trace over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He moved forward, letting himself rest against your entrance. He listened to the sounds falling from your lips, your relief sending him into a whole new state of mind. He moved his hand away from you, but you didn’t have enough time to mourn the loss before he was pushing into you.

“Fuck,” you cried, the feeling immediately overwhelming you.

“Does that feel good, angel?”

“So good, baby.” You whined, biting down on your lip to hold back the obscenities begging to be heard. “I missed you so much.” You breathed, barely noticing the tone of voice it was spoken in. It made his hips stutter and his mind stop for a second. His heart swelled with affection at the statement, and all he could do was smile.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He crooned, delivering a sharp slam of his hips to follow the words. A gasp fell from your lips, and you arched your back upwards towards him, desperate for more. You let your top half lower to the mattress, closing your eyes so you could live in the pleasure momentarily. “Look at me.” He ordered, reaching down at knotting your hair in his fist once again. He pulled your head upwards with a rough motion of his hand, ensuring your eyes were locked on the reflection in the mirror. “Want to see that pretty face while I fuck you.” You let out a whimper, the power of his voice making you weak.

Convincing yourself that you weren’t in love with him was a foolish endeavour, but you were still trying your best despite your stomach tying in knots at the sight of his beauty in the mirror.

“Is this what you thought about while I was gone?” He asked, his tone strong and his hips moving with just the same strength. “Did you touch yourself right here in this bed, waiting for me to come and fuck you like this?”

“God yes, Jake.” You gasped, feeling the pressure rising in your belly. You couldn’t deny him the pleasure of hearing it anymore, even if you wanted to. He’d been waiting to hear the truth from the minute he walked inside, and now you were too far gone to fight the urge to submit to him. “I thought about you every night.”

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He hummed, thrilled at the sound. “You don’t have to worry any more, angel. I’ll take care of you, just like you deserve.” He brought his hand down on your ass, watching your face in the reflection as the sting of pain took over. “Let me hear all of those filthy fucking noises I missed out on.” His order was useless, because you were already doing just that. You couldn’t contain any of the moans, nor any curses. You were singing his name like a hymn, but it was the most sacrilegious song ever sung. There was nothing holy to worship, and you were praising the devil with pride.

“Jake,” you cried, his name burrowing into the walls and making home in the foundation of your house. His presence would live there forever, and you would never be able to run away from it. He was everything, and you were just the lucky soul who could be the recipient of his love. You no longer had fear of Jake taking over your life, because you knew it would be empty and lackluster without his presence.

“My name sounds so pretty when you say it like that.” He groaned, his fingers branding your hips with bruises for you to see in days to come. His fist was tight in your hair, ensuring your eyes would remain on the picture of sin you’d found yourselves in.

“It feels so fucking good,” you whimpered, the pain bordering pleasure so divine that you could no longer think straight.

“Don’t cum yet, baby.” He warned, the look in his eye dangerous.

“Please Jake, I need it so bad.” You pleaded, desperate for a shred of sympathy.

“You’re being so good for me, sweetheart. Just hold on a little longer.” He promised pleasure as long as you listened, and the deal was the same every time. If you were good for him, he was phenomenal to you. You usually had no problem with the agreement, but it had been so long since you felt his hands on you that you weren’t sure you could hold back any longer. He’d pushed you to the edge already, and you thought it was impossible to deny yourself of the pleasure any longer.

“I can’t, Jake.” You cried, shaking your head against his tight hold on you.

“You can, angel. I know you can.” He encouraged you, knowing for certain that you could hold on a little while longer. You bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood in hopes that it would distract you from the incessant burn that was growing stronger in the pit of your stomach. The tip of his cock was slamming into your cervix, the intensity of the feeling making your legs shake below you and your mind cross with thoughts of nothing but filth. Tears stung your eyes and you felt like you were being pushed closer to insanity with every thrust of his hips.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut in anticipation. You were so close that there was no way you could slow it down. As you teetered on the edge, you felt yourself slowly descending into the euphoria. Just when you were about to fall, the feeling stopped completely. Your eyes snapped open, now realizing that his withdrawal was a million times worse than any punishment he could possibly give you for cumming without permission.

Now, the tears were real, and they were all due to your frustration with him for denying you any kind of help. Before you could even form a thought of protest against his withdrawal, he got off the bed and moved in front of you once again.

“Hey,” he whispered, crouching down so you were face to face. He brushed the tears away from your cheeks with his thumb, fearful he’d pushed you too far. “No need for tears, angel.” He leaned forward, capturing you in a small kiss. As he did so, his hands found your wrists, loosening the belt that was holding them together. The anxiety in your chest subsided, realizing quickly that he was no longer trying to punish you, but rather fulfill his promise that he’d given you earlier. “I told you that I’d take it off if you were good for me, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, nodding in bliss at the realization he was going to follow through with his promise. He let the belt fall to the floor before standing on his feet, letting his thumb brush across your cheek again.

“Come here, baby.” He prompted you to join him, giving you a soft smile to show you he was being serious. His dominance was gone, and he was ready to coddle you for the rest of the night. He’d pushed you far enough, and now he wanted you to enjoy whatever came next. Once you were on your feet, he led you back towards the head of the bed. He laid down, holding his arm out for you to join him. With a small smile stuck on your lips, you watched him settle himself amongst the pillows. He propped himself up slightly against the headboard as you got in the bed, too. You climbed atop of him, settling your legs on either side of him as you felt the excitement begin to take over again. “Is this better?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, unable to put it into words. You lined yourself up with him, melting into his hold. His hands were holding your hips, his touch soft and inviting, and his eyes no longer held the flame they did moments before. He’d completely softened at the sight of your face so close to his, and he was fighting every urge he had to love you.

You lowered yourself on him, both of you letting out a simultaneous sigh of relief. “God I missed this, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby.” You breathed, anchoring your hand on his shoulder as you began a slow motion with your hips.

“You feel so fucking good.” He sighed, using his own hands to help keep your movements steady. You leaned down, placing your lips on his in a heated kiss. You wanted him in every way you could have him, and even while he was intertwined with you in the most intimate ways possible, it still didn’t feel like enough.

He was the most beautiful thing this world had ever created, and you wanted to stay like that with him for the rest of your life. When he left, your home seemed too empty. When you couldn’t talk, you missed him more than you ever cared to admit. He had become the most important person in your life without even trying, and the line between casualness had been long crossed. As you worked yourself back up to an orgasm, love was surrounding you both completely. It was certain death, and you were a dead woman walking, but you didn’t care. The longer you avoided speaking the truth, the longer you could have him in the same way. You were terrified of disturbing the peace, but you feared that the longer you held it back, the more disastrous the situation would become.

“You want to cum, angel?” He mumbled against your lips, feeling your hips speed against him as he spoke.

“Yes, please.” You whined, already feeling the steady build of pleasure rising. Every touch was euphoric, and every glance was angelic. No matter what he was doing, you were a fool for thinking you could escape it. His web was spun too intricately to even strike a curiosity about a way out.

“You want it so bad, work for it.” His voice was low, husky and soft. It was filled with desire for you, and he was eager to watch you descend into bliss. As much as he loved the control, his favorite part of sex with you was watching you have a good time. The closeness was intoxicating, and he was completely immersed in you as you desperately tried to get yourself off.

“Can you help me? Please?” You begged, needing to feel the grace of his hands on you.

“You want me to touch you, angel?” He hummed, clenching his jaw as he held back his own orgasm. The thought of needing him was too much to bear.

“Please, sir.” You whimpered, looking down at him with a longing stare. His heavily hooded eyes were clouded with lust, and he no longer had enough willpower to deny you of anything. At the end of the day, he knew he would always give you exactly what you wanted.

“Since you asked so nicely, baby.” He agreed, moving his hand from your hip and slipping it between your legs. You leaned backwards slightly, allowing him easier access to you. The pad of his finger danced over your sensitive clit, the feeling immediately bringing you closer to the edge. You moved your hands and anchored them behind you, firmly on his thighs to keep yourself upright. You gyrated your hips faster, keeping in time with the circles his finger was tracing. “Just like that?”

“Fuck, yes.” You moaned, closing your eyes as you felt the knot begin to tighten in your belly.

“That’s it, angel.” He said, encouraging you to keep going. “Cum for me, baby.” The permissive statement was all you needed to keep going, and within seconds you descended into the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt in your entire life. You sang his name, the song sweet and beautiful, and he thought it was the most moving thing he’d ever heard.

He watched you closely, studying every detail of your face as it twisted into an expression of pleasure. The way your eyebrows furrowed, and the curl of your lip as you tried to silence yourself. He was in love with the way your skin tinged red and the glisten of sweat that formed on your face. He adored you and everything about you, and he was in no place to deny it any longer. His eyes drifted downwards, admiring the tensed muscles in your shoulders and the way your breasts moved in time with your hips. His gaze trailed down your stomach, tense with pleasure, and all the way down to his hand working at you as you rode out the high.

“That’s my girl,” his voice was weak, completely constrained by his own struggle to hold himself back. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” The waver in his words sent you into another wave of euphoria; knowing how intense his emotions were was sending you to a whole new level of pleasure.

“Fuck, Jake.” You croaked, completely exhausted and fucked out. You were so tired that you could barely hold yourself up, but he caught on to the fact and braced you with his own hand. As you came down, your head was spinning and your legs were trembling. He moved his fingers from your clit, grabbing your hips as he continued to move them for you. Within seconds, he reached his own orgasm with just as much force as your own. He managed your name through the mess of curses that fell from his lips. His head fell back on the pillow as he spilled his release into you, continuing moving your hips for you to draw out the pleasure for as long as possible.

When you both calmed from the excitement, you let out a long sigh of satisfaction. You practically collapsed on top of him, craving the warmth of his skin on your own. He wrapped a strong arm around you, holding you close in hopes that you knew how welcomed the moment was. He let his fingers trace small shapes into your skin as your heartbeats turned into one. You let your fingers run over his bicep, the touch light and tickling his skin. He placed a small kiss to the top of your head, not enough for you to chastise him for, but enough to let you know he cared.

“I don’t think we should spend that much time away from each other anymore.” He chuckled, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo. He’d missed so dearly that he was unsure if he could live without it again.

“I agree.” You smiled, placing a small kiss to his chest. “When we have sex this good, I think it’s a crime to go without it.” He hummed a sound of agreement, but he couldn’t deny the stab he felt at the thought of you only wanting him around for sex. Although that was the clear agreement, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be around for more than just a hookup. He daydreamed about innocent dinners and days spent browsing shops in the city, hand in hand with nothing but smiles on your faces. He wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up on the couch every night, pretending to be interested in whatever movie was playing on the television while knowing the most important thing in the world was the girl laying in his arms.

Instead of speaking his mind, he let a lock of your hair twist around his finger. It was easier to ignore it than face the consequences of rejection.

“We should get cleaned up.” You mumbled, but you regretted speaking at all. You wanted to stay in that bed with him until the end of time. The fear of age and death meant nothing when you were experiencing such intimacy at the hands of someone so fantastic.

“Sure, angel.” He agreed, but he prayed you would change your mind. After a moment, you made a move to sit up. He ignored the sinking disappointment and did the same. The two of you went to the bathroom in silence, washing away the sinful reminders of your night of reuinion. As you cleaned up your messy makeup in the mirror, you felt his hands drift over the marks beginning to form on your hips. He would never say it, but you knew he felt regret for being so rough with you. An animalistic nature took over the both of you in the bedroom, and you couldn’t help the volatile attraction the two of you felt. When the moment passed and you realized how you treated each other, guilt began to plague you both.

He placed a kiss on your shoulder, waiting until you were finished to return to the bedroom with you. When you felt as though you looked presentable, the two of you made the journey back. You threw his shirt on, wasting no time before climbing under the covers. When you didn’t notice him immediately behind you, you peeked around the room to see what he’d busied himself with.

He stood at your desk, only in his boxers as he looked over the items littering the surface. “What are you doing?” You asked, but you didn’t really care. You knew that whatever he was up to was harmless, and you had nothing to hide from him anymore. It was genuine curiosity over what had caught his attention.

“You have some expensive cameras.” He said, amazed at the quality of your things.

“Well, I take pictures for a living, so I kind of have to.” You chuckled, nestling your head into the pillows.

“You have a Polaroid camera?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, peeking at him through one eye. “Some people like that style, especially younger clients. I bring it with me and I use it sometimes for a picture or two. I don’t love it because I can’t edit the pictures, and what you get is what you get, but it’s a cool part of photo shoots. A little personal memory to bring home right away.” You shrugged, smiling at his curiosity. He picked it up, looking it over for a moment. Normally, you would be unwilling to let someone else touch your equipment, but you had no fear when your camera was in his hands. If he handled them with even half as much care as he held you with, you knew that it was the safest place for them to be.

“Is there film in this?” He asked, looking back at you again.

“Should be, why?” You asked, watching him take a few steps towards you.

“Smile.” He said, a smile stuck on his own lips as he asked you to do so.

“No, Jake.” You covered your face. “I look like shit.” You laughed. Your hair was a mess and your cheeks were still rosy from the rushing blood moments before. Your eyes were tired, and you were only clad in his t-shirt. You were nowhere near picture-worthy, but he couldn’t disagree more. He thought that in that moment, the epitome of beauty was sat directly in front of him.

“Impossible,” he shook his head, crouching down at the end of the bed “because you’re the most beautiful person in the whole world.”

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes.

“Please?” He asked again. “I promise I won’t show anyone else.” You let out a sigh of defeat, but you lowered your hand.

“Fine. Just one, though.” You surrendered. “But I get to take one of you, too.”

“Of course.” He agreed. You sat up against the headboard slightly, fixing your hair as you did so. You put on a smile, one that was clearly fake and only for the pose. “Come on. Give me a real smile, angel.” He said.

“That is real!”

“Uh-huh,” he rolled his eyes. “A photographer can’t tell a real smile from a fake one?”

“I can, but clearly you can’t. Must be why I’m the photographer and you stick to writing songs.”

“Ouch,” he laughed, “you say that as if writing songs is a bad thing.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” You defended. “But, I don’t know if your songs are any good.” You corrected him.

“Maybe if someone would get over herself and listen to them, she’d know that they’re pretty great, actually.” His pitch got higher as he spoke, clearly telling you it was a joke. He looked at you over the camera, smiling at your stunned expression. “What? Got nothing to argue about, now? That’s a first.”

“You’re an asshole.” You laughed, finding his confidence charming. Just as you did, he snapped a picture of you amidst a real laugh, finding the moment of joy too precious to pass up. He waited as the photo printed from the bottom, grabbing it as he walked towards your desk to let it develop. “Give it to me.” You extended your hand, moving towards him to grab it. He handed it to you, posing no argument as he did so.

He collapsed on the bed next to you, settling himself in the same position as you were in. You moved to the end of the bed, kneeling as you studied his position. Before you took the picture, you leaned forward and fixed the blanket draped over his waist. You reached up, brushing the hair away from his eyes and giving him a small smile as you did so.

“How do I look?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Beautiful.” You confirmed, but no hint of a joke was present. You leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his lips before you returned to your earlier position. He didn’t have to fake his smile, because every one he’d ever had around you was the most genuine he’d ever felt. You took the picture, placing the Polaroid on the comforter before moving towards him. You settled beside him, turning the camera to face you both.

“You like me enough to take a picture with me?” He teased, surprised at your initiation of the moment.

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You brushed him off, ignoring his intent to get under your skin. He chuckled, leaning in just in time to press a kiss to your cheek as you clicked the button. You watched as it printed, grabbing it and moving to collect the other one as well.

You sat the camera beside you, watching intently as the photograph developed. The one of him on his lonesome finished first, and it nearly stole the air from your lungs. You had no idea a person could be so ethereal, but there he was, and you were so lucky to be in his company. Sometimes it felt like you did not deserve the care and attention that Jake gave you, and you did not feel nearly special enough to be receiving it from someone so phenomenal. When the second one finished developing, you couldn’t help but feel an unfamiliar feeling rise in your chest. It wasn’t lust, or desire, which was something you so often felt around him. Instead, it was adoration, and further underneath that was the emotion you’d been working so hard to cover up. When you looked over at him, you could see in his eyes that he felt the same way.

Love was dancing on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken and furious with you for ignoring it. You bit back the word, instead leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. You swore he could taste the sweetness of your feelings for him from the small action alone, and he feared all the same things. As you moved to place the camera on your desk, you stopped and stuck the two pictures in the corner of your mirror, ensuring that you could see them every time you passed by. It was a second of sweetness that would brighten even the darkest of days. When you returned to his side, your body was heavy with the weight of your heart that now solely belonged to him. You were terrified, and you refused to speak it aloud, but there was a small part of you that knew it was safe with him. As fearful as you were, you knew that he would not do the same as others who came before him.

You nestled yourself into his arms, content in his hold and knowing that you had never missed anything more than you missed his comfort. You closed your eyes as the newest deadly sin filled the air around you, pushing out the love and replacing it with evil. Your laziness in regards to confessing your feelings would eat away at you, and your failure to utilize your talent would kill you. The two of you were better at loving each other than you were at anything else, but you were too busy denying it to realize that it was exactly what you’d been doing all along. You were descending further into the depths of hell with every day that passed, but the evil had become so comfortable that the flames no longer burned. Now, it was a soft tickle that reminded you of home, and you knew that you were here to stay.

In the moment, sloth seemed like the most innocent crime you had committed in your time spent knowing him so intimately, but in the long run, it simply wasn’t true. Sloth was the most deadly sin to date, because it would eventually cause the most disastrous consequences. By avoiding the truth, you were setting yourself up for catastrophic failure, and when the time came, there would be no chance for recovery. It was opening the door for a whole new world of possibilities, but none of them good; your comfortability with your own sinful actions was dangerous, and ignoring the love that was growing for him would hurt you more than the both of you confessing the truth. Now, you had chosen to suffer in silence, and any grounds of doubt or defense no longer existed. Remaining in a casual relationship while loving each other so deeply only allowed for you to hurt each other in the most brutal ways possible; causing harm without even realizing the damage you left behind.

Sloth left you vulnerable, and you were too blind to realize the dangers. After all, how can you hurt someone who has never admitted to the fact that they are able to be hurt by you at all?

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby

[bjtch-craft]

"I'm a Rockstar Babe"

Todd Ingram X Bottom Male! Reader

☆ Summary: [Name] reunites with an old high-school friend turned rockstar things take a turn when they restart their old high-school ways.

☆ NSFW

☆Request: Yes or No

☆ Word count: 2,836

☆Genre: Angst to Smut (Kinda)

☆Warnings: Smut, degradation, manipulation (kinda, tbh I just tried making him cocky but rereading it it sounds like bro is manipulating), Bl♡wjobs, slapping, just douchy rockstar things, spitting (he's one of those ppl)

☆Authors note: Dude, I rewatched the movie and reread the novels, and why is Todd so mf fine like WHAT? And why are there no stories about this man? Anyways enjoy!! (P.s this has been in my drafts for like 2 months now and I've never finished editing it for some reason...)

Also look at the comic version of him like WHAT A CUTIE like yeah sure he's arrogant, narcissistic, uncaring, and may or may not be a pathological liar, and a walking red flag but like that red looking a little orange so??? PRAYING SOME OF YALL READ THIS!!

Did this count as being a groupie? No. It's not like I'm some obsessed super fan like Joseph I mean for fucks sake I knew Todd in high school [Name] thought as he lay on the mattress of the cheap motel room waiting for Todd to get out of the shower.

10:15 P.M. - some time earlier

[Name] was shoved and pushed around by the hundreds of thousands of fans who had gathered to watch the band play. The band in question was none other than The Clash at Demonhead. [Name] new one of the members (while technically two if you count Envy but they didn’t know each other. They were more of acquaintances really.) Todd Ingram who he was close friends with. Really close.

He'd given him head a couple of times (and slept with him too) but that didn't mean anything to them (yes it did.) it was what Todd considered a "bro-job" whatever the fuck that was. But that's not important (yes it is) what is important is how quickly their friendship ended after he got with Envy. They tried to keep in touch but after the band blew the absolute fuck up he cut ties with him.

Did it hurt? Yes. A lot. But [Name] didn't let it get to him he still supported Todd even if Todd himself didn't know it. [Name] bought every CD, vinyl, and cassette tape, and got tickets to most shows. He even tried to get backstage passes to rekindle his relationship with Todd but the prices were far out of his price range.

There have been times when for a quick second he'd seen Todd after a show or two and waved to him or said a quick word but he didn't recognize him. Which also hurt. How can you not recognize someone you spent almost TEN YEARS of your life with? But [Name] was determined to catch up with his best friend so after pulling a couple of night shifts and saving up some money he... still didn’t have enough.

10: 50 P.M.

"Todd's so hot!"

"Jesus Envys even hotter in person!"

"Why's that chick got a robotic arm?"

These are just some of the things [Name] heard throughout the event which was on the verge of ending.

12:10 A.M. - Later

The concert was over and [Name] pushed and shoved his way out of the venue and quickly rushed towards the back of the building looking for the band.

"Come on please don't tell me I missed them!"

His shoes thudded against the gravel, and as he rounded the corner a gate came into view.

"No. No, no, no, no!"

The gate door was slid open. How safe right?

"Envy? Do you wanna get a bite to eat or something?"

[Name] stopped for a moment as he saw Todd standing there his guitar case in hand talking to Envy. He took a deep breath and stepped through the gates. Fuck?

"T-todd?"

Todd turned to look at him a look of shock and anger upon his face.

"Who the hell let you in" Todd asked as he stepped closer to [Name] his voice coming off as aggressive as his eyes and hair started to glow.

"N-no one the gate was open."

"So you just snuck in?"

"I'm [Name], [First name], [Last name] we went to high school together. Remember?"

Todd's eyes and hair stopped glowing as his hair drifted back down in front of his face.

"You're kidding?!"

Todd dropped his guitar case and ran up to [Name] his tough guy rockstar persona shedding completely. He threw his arms around [Name] and pulled him into his chest. [Name] could feel the heat rising to two places as his face was smushed into Todd's rather large pecs.

"Todd you're squishing me..." [Name] said his voice muffled.

"Sorry!" He pulled away. "Jesus it's been a long time since we've seen each other... I'm a Rockstar!"

"I can see that!"

"Todd, what the fuck is going on," Envy asked?

Todd turned to look at them wrapping his arm around [Name's] waist. "This is [Name] from high school! He's my best friend remember?"

"While to me he looks like a fucking groupie! Let's go" Envy replied.

"I'm not a groupie..."

"Do you think he can come back to the motel with us?"

"No."

"Find some other cheap motel to fuck in," The Bionic arm bitch said.

"He's not a groupie and we're not gonna fuck! He's my friend and I wanna catch up with him!"

"Find. Another. Motel." Envy said the tone of her voice showed her annoyance more than anything.

12:30 A.M.

And they did find a cheap motel in an extremely unsafe part of town. Fits the stereotype, huh? A rockstar takes one of his fans to a cheap rundown-looking motel just to get it in.

[Name] once again was hugging Todd but this time was looking up at him.

"I'm so sorry for ghosting you [Name]."

"It's fine."

Todd's hands traveled down [Name's] back and reached his ass and groped it firmly, making [Name] let out an involuntary yelp. He pushed Todd off of him, causing the blonde boy to let out a laugh.

"What's the matter [Name] just like old times!"

"Todd aren't you dating Envy or something?"

He shifted his weight on his feet annoyingly.

"I'm a Rockstar babe we don't date," Todd said cockily.

"Oh?"

"I'm gonna hop in the shower. I know I reek of sweat... care to join me?"

"Smooth Todd.... real smooth."

He winked at [Name] and waltzed into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. After a minute or two he heard the shower go on.

Did this count as being a groupie? No. It's not like I'm some obsessed super fan like Joseph I mean for fucks sake I knew Todd in high school [Name] thought as he lay on the mattress of the cheap motel room waiting for Todd to get out of the shower.

"Do I wanna do this... again?"

The first time [Name] and Todd ever did anything together was on his eighteenth birthday. They were both unbelievably drunk, and both were bored lying on Todd's bed in silence. One of them now and then would say something, and they would have a short conversation.

"H-heyyy~ [Name] can I ask you for a favor," Todd asked his words coming out slurred.

"Yeah- hic! What'sss ~'s up?"

"Do you think you could um... s-suck me off?"

"Why?"

"Well, I'm one drunk! And two horny as fuck~! So can you?"

"You know what fuck it! You are my best friend!"

[Name] slid his basketball shorts off and then his boxers and grabbed at his length.

"I've never done this before so um... bear with me~."

Todd nodded his head a goofy grin on his face. "Do it as if someone's doing yours."

[Name] took him into his mouth slowly going down inch by inch the girth was almost too much to handle. Almost.

But that was years ago. They were two dumb eighteen-year-olds who were just helping each other out. But [Name] didn't feel that way anymore... but reminiscing on their old days made [Name] slowly begin to get hard in the shorts Todd had given him.

[Name] rubbed himself through the fabric and pushed down on it, making him release a soft moan. He needed Todd he didn't realize how badly he did until right then and there. The door opened to the bathroom, and [Name] quickly through the blanket over his lap.

Todd walked out with just a towel around his waist, his bulge catching [Names] eye as well as his body, which was still wet and glistened in the light.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting another pair of boxers, I forgot to bring them into the shower..." Todd looked at [Name] and noticed the tent that was forming underneath the blanket. "Aw, are you happy to see me like this again, baby?"

"What! No!"

"Come on..." He said huskily. The cockiness was back. "I heard you moan... were you thinking of the times I fucked you? The times you begged me to fill you up? The times I came on that pretty face of yours?"

[Name] could feel his cock growing harder with each question.

"N-no" [Name] whimpered out.

Todd walked to the side of the bed grabbed [Name's] hand and placed it on his groin.

"You miss my fat cock don't you," He asked his voice sounding oddly humiliating.

"I don't have to say anything."

Todd started to move his hips grinding his bulge against the palm of [Names] hand.

"Todd we can't... you have a girlfriend."

"I told you we rockstars don't really - truly date, and if anything, it's just another bro-job, remember?"

[Name] pulled his hand away and sat up and using both hands opened Todd's towel up causing his cock to pop out and slap against his happy trail.

"Fuck~," [Name] whispered out.

[Name] reached out and pumped his cock twice.

"Yeah that's it~ I know you fucking missed it haven't you?"

[Name] let go of Todd's cock and adjusted his position so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Todd backed up a little.

"Please don't like- hurt me that much. Please?"

Todd chuckled and ran his hand through his wet hair.

"You sweet dumb thing, you know I can't promise that."

[Name] grabbed Todd's cock once more and spat on it and stroked him off spreading the saliva over his cock.

"I haven't done this in a long time... so I'm a little rusty."

Todd smiled down at him. The grin was a mixture of amusement and humiliation.

[Name] placed the tip on his tongue and licked it gently before wrapping his lips around it and slowly going down on it.

[Name] couldn't lie he truly did miss this. Not only did he enjoy it, but it honestly made them closer as friends.

[Name] gagged on the base as he looked up at Todd with tearful eyes.

"Aww you look so cute with my big cock in your mouth," Todd said softly his voice coated in lust as he gently patted [Name's] cheek.

[Name] began to slowly come off his cock before Todd placed a hand on the back of his skull and slammed him back down causing him to gag and for drool to pour out of the sides of his mouth.

"Mmm-hmm-agh." [Name] groaned out.

Todd pulled his cock out of the boy's mouth and slapped it on either side of the guy's cheek.

"You took it so well [Name]~."

[Name] looked up at Todd with innocent eyes, his tongue sticking out a little as he gasped for air.

"Jesus you look so fucking gorgeous."

"I-I think you bruised the back of my throat!"

Todd grabs [Names] chin as he angles his head straight aligning his cock with [Names] lips.

Todd spat on his cock (and on [Names] face) and slammed it down [Names] throat before pulling out. [Name] stuck out his tongue and licked a stripe down his cock.

"You're such a fucking slut baby. I bet you've been craving my cock since you heard about our band haven't you?"

[Name] nodded his head embarrassingly. Todd placed a hand on the back of [Names] head and leaned in, planting a kiss on his lips as his hands traveled down his body. His hands reached the bottom of the boy's shirt and began to pull it up over his head, breaking the kiss in the process.

Todd pushes [Name] down onto the bed by his chest and crawls on top of him, attacking his neck, causing [name] to let out a soft moan. Todd kisses down his neck while unbuckling [Names] belt and gently pulls them off along with his boxers.

"I don't reckon you have a condom do you?"

"I have one in my wallet in my left pocket," [Name] says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Todd grabs [Names] jeans off the floor and pulls out the condom from the wallet before discarding them back onto the floor.

Todd rips the wrapping of the condom off with his teeth and slides the rubber on. He places [Bames] legs on his shoulders and lines himself up at his entrance.

[Name] squeezes his eyes shut as Todd pushes himself into him. A sudden wave of pain and pleasure washes over him, causing him to grab onto the sheets, twisting them in his hands. A soft whimper escapes his lips as Todd continues to push deeper into him.

"Shit- Todd, you're so fucking- ngh~ big!" [Name] whimpered out, causing Todd to look down at him with a cocky grin.

Todd had pushed himself into the other boy and slowly began to pull back out, only to slam back into him, which earned him a low groan.

"Does that feel good?"

[Name] nodded his head and let out a whimper. Todd began to rock his hips in and out of him, the tip occasionally brushing against his prostate. His thirst got faster and quicker he reached down and grabbed [Name's] hands and placed them above his head.

Todd began pounding into [Name]. The sound of skin against skin filled the room as well as screams of pleasure from both boys.

"Ugh~ F-fuck! You're going to har-!" [Name] wasn't able to finish his sentence as Todd delivered a gentle (but still hard) slap across his face.

"Don't tell me what the fuck to do!" Todd growled out.

[Names] cock twitched as pre-cum drizzled down his cock causing a moan to escape from his lips.

"Don't tell me you're into this shit you slut?"

"S-s-shut up Todd~"

Todd smirked and began rocking his hips.

"How bad do you want it?"

"W-what?" [Name] stuttered.

"I can pull out right now and leave and not let you finish you."

"Please don't~ I'll do anything!"

"Then admit it.'

"What?"

"Admit you're a filthy whore" Todd said his voice thick with lust.

"I'm not going to- ah~!"

Todd pulled out of [Name] leaving him feeling empty and somehow even more fucking desperate.

"Todd please" [Name] begged.

"Then say it."

"I-I’m a whore okay? Is that what you want to hear from me? I'm a fucking slut for you okay?!"

Todd looked down at [Name] with a cocky grin.

"Good boy."

Todd leaned back over [Name] and placed a soft kiss on his lips before pushing himself back into him. He wrapped his hand around [Name's] throat and began pounding into him. The sounds of skin against skin filled the room once again.

Todd raised his hand and brought it across [Names] face with enough power to cause a sting of pain leading [Name] to let out a dry moan.

"I can't believe your into this shit!" Todd said with a cheesy grin.

"Shut up!" The boy underneath him whined out.

Todd smirked and removed his hand from [Names] neck and grabbed him by the waist and slowed his thrusts.

"What are you- agh~!"

Todd pulled [Name] into him driving his cock deeper into him pushing past his prostate. [Names] jaw dropped as the sudden feeling causing a high pitched moan to erupt from his throat. Todd took this opportunity and grabbed his jaw holding it open and dipped his thumb into his mouth.

"Don't close your mouth got that?"

[Name] replied with a whimper as Todd's thurst became annoyingly slow as a string of spit slowly began to fall from his lips and landed in [Names] mouth.

[Named] closed his mouth after Todd gave him a look that practically yelled at him, too. Todd's slow thrust became faster and faster. Todd wrapped his hand around [Name's] dick and began jerking him off as [Name] placed his palm at the back of Todd's head.

"I'm so close!" Todd groaned out as his rhythm began to go out of sync.

His movements became harder and harder as he felt himself getting closer and closer to finishing.

"W-where- fuck~ where do you want it?" He moaned out.

"On me..."

Todd placed a hand behind [Names] head as his thurst became sloppy he spat once again at [Name] the salvia covering his face before pulling out and jerking himself off.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With one final moan ropes of cum erupted from his cock covering [Names] body in white ropes. Todd pumped [Name's] cock for a minute before he came their cum mixing on his stomach. Todd scooped up some of his cum off of the boy's body with his index finger and popped it into [Names] mouth.

"How's it taste?"

"Salty... can you get me a towel?"

1:35 AM

[Name] lay on the cheap hotel's mattress, his head on Todd's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Hey, have you ever thought of being a roadie?'

"A what?"

"A roadie helps the band set up... you could be one for us so we could keep in touch and..." He wrapped his hand around [Names] body and groped his ass "Have some more time to ourselves."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THIS MAN IS SO FINE ARGH. I NEED HIM SO BAD LIKE I WANT HIM TO FULLY REARRANGE MY INSIDES.

Authors note!!

Again, sorry for the break. School is still once again kicking my ass :) I do plan on writing more over Christmas break, but I do have like half-written stories in my drafts, so here are some of them. (Some of them have titles, but they are to be determined, so kill me or wtv) .

Darry Jenner x Male reader (Fluff)

Miguel Ohara x Male reader (Smut)

Chad Meeks x Male reader (TBD)

Simon Kalivoda x Male reader (Fluff)

[emberunderscore]

FableSMP EPIC the musical AU

whole thing comes from the perspective of Midas (as Quixis specifically) being Scylla, which means Icarus has to be Odysseus, which is also fitting tbh.

this is only based on the released sagas bc i dont have the vibe of the future characters yet (i dont look at a whole lot of snippets). also dont think about any of the blood family stuff too hard - theres nothing weird dw but it just makes stuff complicated with the gods

Monsters

Scylla - Quixis Midas

The ideas of Scylla being human turned monster, Midas is human turned Quixis, which in this universe could be something of a replacement for monstrous, which also works with 

Spooky bitch Midas propaganda

Look at my edit to be even more convinced

Polyphemus - Leviathan/Vorago

Probably makes most sense with Leviathan

Instead of the parent/child relationship with Poseidon they're siblings (ocie is poseidon)

Humans/Dead people

Odysseus - Icarus

Icarus has to be Ody because of Midas being Scylla

The song Monster

The conflicts within the plot work well with Icarus’ own relationships

Eury and Ody see each other as brothers, even though it isn't’t blood. Maybe they’re not blood related in this AU

Eurylochus: Rae

Brothers!!

Rae is seen as the leader of Lodestar, which works well with Eury’s place as the voice of the crew

Penelope: Centross??

prison duo

but it actually works because Icarus would do anything for him. just look at season 3

he's probably not smart enough to be penelope but the agenda is more important than that

Telemachus: Oscar

Ik Oscar isn't Icarus' kid but he is Centross and theoretically Centross would've been the one to raise him anyway

See Legendary

Polities: Athena

Optimist

Song open arms

"everything's changed since polities"

Perimedes: Caspian

Perimedes is the one who stabs Odysseus in the back to stop him from killing Eurylochus in Mutiny

For Rae? Cas wouldn't hesitate

Tireseas: Haley

Dead prophet

who else

Ody's dead mom: Isla

Isla is Icarus' mom??? In this AU??? /s

Gods

Zeus: Fable

Orignially this was Epros but I was convinced to change it

Massive ego

Yellow

Actual reasons in this post

Athena: Enderian

This could also be fable but I dont think Icarus would defy him like how he does

Goddess of the Mind, need I say more

Aeolus: Aurelius

They have the vibes I think

Aeolus is gender and so is Aurelius

There are a lot of options I think

I like the idea of the Winions(?) being the piglins they had in their bunker

Poseidon: Ocie

Ocean

At the beginning Ocie is so ready to kill people, she does not care for human life. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves

She would do that for Vorago

Canon compliant beef with Icarus 

Circe: Momboo

My first thought was Ven because I'm a fucking dumbass

It makes so much more sense than Ven

Plant lady, plant witch

badass

girlboss

pretty woman

Hermes: Rakai

They have the vibes

One of the very few gods to tolerate Icarus

gender

Apollo: Malitae

Apollo sounds so fruity in god games

Apollo cares most about music in god games which is a form of expression so i think it fits for Malitae to be him

Hephaestus: Nexus

In god games Hephaestus' thing is trust, he's pissed that Ody betrayed his crew

Nexus is the Goddess of Loyalty so it fits really well that she'd be upset about that

Nexus was also a knight so being a god of blacksmithing isn't too far from that

Aphrodite: Soul

Aphrodite cares about Ody's mom's broken heart

If we thing of it in the context of soulbonds it makes sense that Soul would be upset about that

Ares: Netherum

Ares is the only one in god games to match Athena's power, which checks out - major god to major god

Maybe its a bit ooc for Netherum themself

But god of destruction as the god of war. thats something

Would totally step in for Soul

Hera: Perix

In this AU we ignore family dynamics- Perix is not married

Calls Athena "baby" (kinda gay)

Fits the vibe

can you come up with a better idea? no, nor could I (credit to Sardar106 for this casting lol)

Calypso: Ven

They're so "This could never really happen but let us pretend"

"I wish we could've been something"

Look at this post (person who reblogged has better words than me go read that)

thank you for coming to my au talk. please share your own thoughts and opinions (but also remember that i am objectively correct all of the time /j)

Updated after Wisdom Saga