#But after the mosquito part
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Aislinn x Vampire MC (Verity Wright)
Aislinn finds out Verity's true nature part 1
#Originally I wasn't going to have this part#I would only do after you choose the diamond scene#But after the mosquito part#I couldn't resist#choices#pixelberry#playchoices#loa#laws of attraction#aislinn tanaka#Aislinn#Aislinn x mc#Aislinn x vamp mc#Aislinn x Verity
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Considering how much the horror of Simon being trapped under the Curse of the Ice Crown was first and foremost based around a loss of identityÂ
It only makes sense that this is still what Simon struggles with now, after being freed.
Simon knows who heâs not. Heâs not Ice King. He is Simon Petrikov again. But who is Simon Petrikov now? Because it seems like his current situation has really taken away all of the ways Simon used to define his identity.
âSimon Petrikov the antiquarian and archeologistâ is⌠not quite it anymore. His current job is similar, since heâs still teaching people about ages long past. Itâs just that now that ancient era is his original world - but itâs clear thatâs not quite what he wants to do anymore. Whatever itâs because he canât get as excited about the 20th century as he could for âhisâ ancient times, or because he doesnât really like his new âteaching methodâ where is quite literally a living museum exhibit.
And what about âSimon Petrikov the intellectual researcher of magic and the paranormal?â
Yeah, no chance anymore. Before the Crown, Simon had a real fascination with magic and the supernatural. But now, in the wacky world of Ooo - he has lost that aspect of himself completely. He aches for the mundane.
And then thereâs âSimon Petrikov the adventurous outdoorsmanâ, which we only learned about just now.
Which is another aspect of Simonâs identity lost in the new context of Ooo. Simon mightâve been able to brave the elements against rain and mosquitos and poison ivy. But in this world of dragon monsters and shapeshifting bears he is just not able to take it anymore.
âSimon Petrikov, Marcyâs gentle caretakerâ is right out too. Not only because Simon believes Marceline just doesnât need him anymoreâŚ
But he also doesnât see himself as capable of helping any little kids anymore - and not just in term of abilityâŚ
But also in terms of his own personality.Â
Making this little girl cry basically smashed that part of his identity to dust.
And then thereâs âSimon Petrikov, Betty Grofâs belovedâ, which would be a foolâs errand to keep clinging toâŚ
And yetâŚ
#adventure time#atimers#adventure time spoilers#adventure time fionna and cake#fionna and cake#fionna and cake spoilers#simon petrikov#simon adventure time#adventure time simon#AT#betty adventure time#adventure time betty#betty grof#petrigrof
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JJK SMAU LIST
Smaus
Calling them ugly (prank)
Mosquito problems
Video Games
Tramp stamp
Baby Pics
Insecurities
Drunk I miss you (y/n)
Drunk I miss you (them)
Sending them nudes
Buying you lingerie
You give them an edible
You ask them for help
Baby Pics pt.2
Baby Pics pt.3
Gym pics
Jealous girl
Thirst pic
Insecurities (them)
Finding your smut
You find their smut
They find your toy
Attitude
Telling them us?
They find your diary
Jealous guys
They cheat on you
It was just a dream đ
You buy them a shirt
Walk at 1 am prank
Tinder
"It was so good last night" prank
Their name on your panties
You're the daddy
Baby Pics pt.4
Unknown number
Ass or tits
I'm outside your house
Child steals your phone
Child steals their phone
Automated Message
Baby Pics pt.5
Neighbors said to keep it down
Unexpected interruption
Child takes your phone pt.3
Video games pt.2
Caught dancing home alone
Oops wrong person nude prank
Congratulations on finals!
Break-in prank!
Right person, wrong time
Baby pics pt.6
Smash or pass pre relationship
Child steals your phone pt.4
Asking them for tit pics
Are they submissive and breedable?
Marriage talk
Hit in the balls
Hit in the tit
Fake hickey prank
Odd hobbies
Caught reading smut
Bows đ
Asking them to break up with you so you can listen to sad music
You left them a hickey
They react to you dancing
I know your secret
First sleepover
Our child wants what?
Baby pics pt.7
Massage
Who's a good boy?
Sleeping on the couch
You dye your hair prank
Let's adopt a pet.
Is that seat taken?
You lost our child?
Talking in your sleep
What happens after the break up? (They comfort you)
Beach day!
I'm Batman!
Duolingo
Just one kiss?
Tip-colored nails
Shark Week ����đŠ¸
Study time!
Would you still love me as a worm?
Sexy nurse outfit
Did you eat without me?
Whipped cream?
Pumpkin Carving
Who ate all the candy?
JJK x-links
Part 1
Part 2
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#choso kamo#choso x reader#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso smut#choso kamo smut#jjk choso#kento nanami#jjk nanami#jjk fluff#nanami smut#nanami kento#nanami x reader#choso fluff#kamo choso#nanami fluff
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đ¸ď¸Legend of the Driderđ¸ď¸
Bunniâs Monstertober Event(Oct1)
Male!Drider x Fem!Reader
Oct2
warnings: light web bondage, breeding, oviposition, possessive behavior, reader is a bit insecure about her body, body worship and praise
summary: You go on a trip, hoping to build your confidence before you go back to college. When you get trapped on a mountain during a storm, you realize a legend about spider people may be real when you encounter a horny one for yourself.
A/N: I donât know much about college so donât kill me if things are inaccurate đ also donât expect all of the halloween posts to be this long, some will be short and some on the longer side >< also guess the inspo for this story in the commentsâŚ
my ko-fi if youâre feeling generous~
If you had known how your trip up a nearby mountain would end with you in the clutches of the spider creature youâd only heard of in legends, you would have stayed home that October day.
But you were bored, wanting to find some fun stuff to film and meet a cute stranger while you were at it. Thatâs why you packed your bag and left for the nearby tourist attractions.
First you walked through a big pumpkin patch, taking pictures with a 50 pound pumpkin. It wasnât as impressive as some you had seen online, and you knew that wearing a burnt orange sweater while posing next to it would only bring on ridicule.
You werenât thin, and if someone from your college saw that picture, you were sure theyâd compare you to the pumpkin, saying it was your twin.
Well⌠you had never even really talked to a single in any of your classes. You werenât the type that liked to socialize. Too many times had you been burned, finding out they were being your friends for a prank or had been talking about your body behind closed doors.
Part of you knew it wasnât right to judge others before even meeting them. After all, it happened to you more times than you could count⌠but you were still too shy and insecure to take that first step into making new friends.
Thatâs why you took a bit of time off of college to try and build up your confidence. It was important to you, learning how to love yourself so you could truly love others.
Ever since you went through puberty you had been aching for someone to love you, to adore you with their entire beingâŚ
How would you even be able to believe them if you didnât love yourself first?
So you laughed at the picture of you next to a pumpkin and placed it into your scrap book before packing it away in your backpack.
You repeated this at several tourist attractions, even finding the courage to speak to a few attractive men and women. It wasnât as scary as you thought, they didnât look at you with disgust or say anything mean. They simply spoke with you before giving a smile and going about their day.
âMaybe there really isnât anything to be afraid of after all?â
The last stop on your list was the Arachne Mountains, named after a certain legend surrounding the area.
âHuh⌠spider people have been sighted several times over the year, and thereâs a reward for anyone that can catch them on cameraâŚâ
You squinted at the pamphlet in your hands, trying to read the small print at the bottom. âWhat does that say? Itâs so smallâŚâ
With a shrug, you stuffed the pamphlet into your bag, pulling out the bug spray instead and spraying every bit of bare skin. Mosquitos just loved you, and you didnât want to be itching the whole bus ride home.
As you walked up the mountain trail, you took many pictures, but mostly of the gorgeous scenery.
A vast forestry landscape spread out beneath you, and the mountain path winded through the forest. As you continued walking, the path worn down by several years of hikers began to become more overgrown and less accessible.
âHuh⌠doesnât seem like anyoneâs been this far up in a whileâŚâ
When you thought about it, the stand with all the pamphlets was abandoned and dusty, the window broken. You just assumed they didnât have the budget to fix it⌠but now you were second guessing yourself.
And thatâs when a storm hit. Earlier that day you had heard something about a thunderstorm on the radio, but it was supposed to be that night, not now!
âShit!â
You ran through the rain, slipping on mud and losing your way. The rain was so thick you could barely see in front of you. Tree branches scraped against your sides and caught on your clothes, ripping your sweater and scraping you up.
By the time you were finally able to take shelter in a nearby cave, you were absolutely drenched and covered in scratches and scrapes.
You slid down to the ground, panting and taking off your sweater, now heavy with water. It plopped against the ground, and you reached into your backpack.
âFuckâŚâ
Your phone had no signal, and you wouldnât be able to go down the mountain to call anyone until the storm died down.
You yelped, jumping up from your seat and backing away from the entrance to the cave when lightning struck close by.
This sent you further into the cave, nearly tripping on the uneven, rocky ground.
Most would expect a cave out in the middle of nowhere to be cold and damp, and smell of moss and dust. Surprisingly, the further you traveled inside, the more⌠âcozyâ it seemed.
It smelled almost like cinnamon and felt pleasantly warm. This made your shivering die down, your soaked clothes forgotten at the entrance of the cave.
Little did you know, you were slowly being lured in deeper by the inviting warmth and pleasant smellâŚ
The first sign that something was wrong was a skittering that could be heard further into the cave. The hair on your neck stood up, but you tried your best to reason with yourself.
âItâs probably just some rat or bugâŚâ
But as your phone battery went out and darkness enveloped you without your only source of light, the noise got louder as whatever was making it approached.
You yelped when something brushed against you, and tried to scream, but your mouth was covered and something sunk into your neckâŚ
Darkness.
ââââââ
When you awoke, you felt something warm yet sticky enveloping you, keeping you from freezing while trapping you in place.
You were barely awake when you heard a purr like sound coming from the dark corner of the cave. A manâs face was barely visible within the shadows.
He was handsome, his eyes a dark red and hair a soft blonde, almost platinum color. It seemed he had been the one to trap you there.
âHello, my dear. Youâre finally awakeâŚâ
As soon as you were fully conscious, you began to struggle against your bonds, finally looking down to see what was keeping you from breaking free.
âAre those⌠webs..?â
You felt almost faint, staring down at the whitish, substance wrapped around you. It looked like thick, velvety ropes, but they were so sticky that you knew that they couldnât be.
âIndeed.â
The man began to move forward, the same skittering sound appearing once more. You looked on in horror as his lower half was revealed.
Below his torso was not a set of legs like a normal, no, it was the abdomen of a spider.
âThe legend⌠is true?â
You had been captured by one of the spider people of mythâŚ
âYou must be scared⌠youâre just a human girl after all, and Iâve taken you away.â
He reached out, caressing your soft cheek with his hand. âBut do not fear, Iâm not planning on eating you, little one.â
His hand traveled down your face to your shoulder, his fingers playing with one of your bra straps.
âFar from itâŚâ
Your cheeks heated up as he easily cut through your bra, his eyes on your now bare breasts.
âIâm in need of a mate to carry my eggs⌠and youâre the only woman thatâs traveled to this mountain in agesâŚâ
He breathed against your neck, licking the bite mark he left there earlier. âGod, I could hardly hold myself back the moment I saw you. Such a plump, perfect woman, youâll carry my eggs wellâŚâ
You whines as his lower half creates more webs, keeping you suspended in air, but freeing your soft cunt.
Quickly, he tore off your panties as well, growling lowly at the sight of your pretty, fat pussy. âOh, my little mate, already this wet? Perhaps this was fate, for me to be sent this angel from aboveâŚâ
He plunged a finger into you, pressing against your gummy walls and stretching you out as one of his spider legs nudged against your sensitive clit, just enough to stimulate you and get you to cum all over his fingers.
âThere we go⌠such a good girlâŚâ he purred into your ear, beginning to stroke his monstrous cock. He drew out several orgasms from you, prepping your virgin hole for him.
Within seconds, you were lowered down, your hips hovering over his as he nudged the head of his cock against you.
âGods, youâre so softâŚâ
He kneaded your fat belly and thighs, purring in delight. âYouâll make such a good mother⌠youâve got child bearing hips, like you were just meant to carry my eggsâŚâ
Soft nips and nibbles were left on your neck and breasts.
âEvery ten years, us driders go out to find a mate thatâs suitable for us. I am the last of our kind, so there are no females left for meâŚâ
He smiled, beginning to push in.
âBut you⌠are not just going to be the woman that carries my eggs. Youâll be my mate, and Iâll cherish you.â
It was uncomfortable and painful, the way his cock stretched you out. You gritted your teeth and he cooed, but wouldnât allow you to close your legs, two of his spider legs kept your thighs apart so he could sink deeper into your fat cunt.
âShh, shh⌠itâll feel good soon, my loveâŚâ
And he was right, his cock stretched you in such a delicious way, hitting all the right spots and making you cry out in pleasure.
He mounted you, fucking into your needy cunt as he groaned into your ear. âGonna take my eggs, okay? My sweet girl, youâll be such a good mommy wonât you?â
Suddenly you felt something push into you. Was thatâŚ
He was cumming, eggs filling up your pussy and settling into your womb. Soon your belly would swell as the eggs grew and developed, but for now, you were tiredâŚ
He kissed along your shoulders and neck, nuzzling into. Slowly, he lowered you down from the webs, curling up with you in a dark corner of the cave.
âYouâll be pampered, well taken care of⌠never again will you worry about a single thingâŚâ
As you began to drift off to sleep, you realized that this creature truly thought you were beautiful⌠it made you happy.
So you snuggled into him, too full of cum and eggs to really even try escaping. Why would you?
You were loved⌠you felt truly beautiful for the first time in your life.
âIâll prepare a cabin soon, thereâs plenty of abandoned ones nearby. Wouldnât want my mate to be uncomfortable.â
The way he nuzzled into you was filled with such love and care. He must have been lonely, being the last of his species.
So you decided to stay⌠at least for nowâŚ
Want a part 2? Send me a kofi and ask for it~
ââââââââ
NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat
#cw oviposition#cw breeding#cw size difference#drider imagine#drider x human#drider x reader#monster fucker#monster lover#monster fudger#monster boyfriend#monster fic#chubby!reader#chubby reader#x reader#fem reader#terato#female reader#teraphilia#terat0philliac#exophelia#teratophillia#monster smut#monster boy oc#monster imagine#monster fucking#monster oc#spider monster#fat reader#plus size reader
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installed a dating app bc i was bored and just wanted to talk to whoever and saw someone i knew from college and wanted to say hi (no romantic intentions attached) but i didnât know if it would be appropriate so i told my best friend. She said whatâs the point of swiping right if you donât like that person in a romantic way and if you want to just talk why not use the for friendship option and suddenly iâm just well. Idk i just want to say hi. And another thing is idk how to explain to her that iâm not looking for a friend but im also not looking for a partner but maybe i just want to flirt but not because i want to kiss them but i just want to get to try it?? just i want to. Itâs justâŚitâs been months that thereâs this lingering feeling of loneliness and isolation since I realized that I never felt in love or have a crush the way my friends do. And maybe i just want to feel that even if itâs made up or know thereâs no greater thing to it⌠i just maybe want to want someone and have fun and not feel like a liar all the time. They make it feel so nice and iâm jealous they experience that and i donât. Idk I feel like iâm breaking a sort of rule here or thereâs just something Iâm failing to understand
#personal#iâve kinda suspected a long time ago that maybe iâm queer but itâs just still so isolating to not understand whatever it is that others#seem to grasp so naturally#iâve never told anyone because idk how to explain it#and tbh i dont think iâve fully come to terms with it#i avoid thinking abt it but itâs like those mosquitoes that just bites you even after swatting it away#ig thereâs still a part of me that wants to just be like them even if i know i canât#itâs easier pretending than being alone but damnit i still feel so lonely
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Coriolanus Snow | âWhat about you?â âShe's the star.â âLuckily I Like Roses.â
*â˘.¸âĄRequest: omg can you write a coryo x reader, i donât mind what, just pls donât make him go batshit crazy at the endđŠđŠ
*â˘.¸âĄPrompts: none
*â˘.¸âĄWarnings: Coriolanus, I completely forgot the other Covey peoples names :I, reader is shorter than Snow, Cori isn't insane (ish), Snow is slight ooc, and yes he's a terrible person but youâre here too
*â˘.¸âĄParing: Coriolauns Snow x F!reader
*â˘.¸âĄSummary: On Coriolanusâs trip down to the lake with the star Lucy Gray, he found the most beautiful rose ever seen
Or
Coriolanus pervs on you while swimming (romantic)
*â˘.¸âĄWords: 1.1k
Part 2
Growing up in the Covey had been a stroke of luck, simple as it gets, when Lucy Gray Baird and her family had been forced into District 12 Seeing the talent you had with a guitar one night as you played to the darkness, they took you to their next show where you played alongside Lucy Gray. She was still the star, she had the smile, the voice, the charisma. You could sing when you needed to, and you played the guitar just as well, but she always took the spotlight. And when she strolled into town after winning the Hunger Games, that star power only grew. She was the star, until one sunny morning.
Mockingjay's sang into the wind, the warm sun beating against your skin and the gentle breeze made your sundress flow in the wind. Meeting Lucy and the others on the walk to the lake you came face to face with Coriolanus Snow. Buzzed blonde hair, sharp jawline and the bluest eyes you had ever seen. His smile was bright, and his laugh was as sweet as Lucyâs singing. And it should be, he was laughing at her jokes. Smiling at her. Before he could catch you staring your eyes had shifted quickly, focussing on Lucy as you walked to her side.
She beamed as she saw you, wrapping her arms tightly around you.
âCoriolanus, I want you to meet only the bestest person in the world,â Lucy went on, kissing you quickly on the cheek.
The same smile returned as he turned to shake your hand, his skin soft on your calloused palms. âItâs nice to finally meet you.â He spoke your name softly, the syllables dripping from his tongue like honey. Your hand slipped from his, the tips of his fingers running along your palm.
Lucy quickly ushered you and the rest of the group on, starting the long hike down the green hills. Lucy walked ahead with Aurora, talking wistfully into the wind. You walked in silence, one hand gripping the strap of your satchel as you watched the critters race up the branches of the trees.
âLucy said you played the guitar,â Coriolanus spoke up, swatting away another mosquito. He walked beside you, his tall figure blocking the sun from your face. He looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. âWhy didnât I see you performing last night?â
You simply shrugged. The answer was the crowds didnât cheer for you, Lucy was the star, and she could play for hours without backup. But it sounded sad. You looked over the trees, the Mockingjay's flying higher into the trees. âNothing special, you probably just missed me when I left.â
Coriolanus shook his head softly, âI feel like Iâd remember you.â You couldnât place what Coriolanus meant, your eyebrows furrowing as you thought over his words. You didn't say anything more after that, keeping your eyes ahead on the track leading to the lake.
As soon as the dock was close enough Aurora and Tip had stripped their clothes off and thrown themselves in the water. You tossed your bag down, the hot sun that had beat against your skin had made you more than happy to rush into the water. Tossing your sundress aside with your satchel you ran down the dock and dove under the crystal blue water. The cool lake chilled your skin enough to relieve the sun but not enough to raise goosebumps.
You swam up to the surface, pushed the hair back for your face and fixed the straps of your handmade bra that slid down your shoulder. Lucy jumped in after you, and with a yell, Coriolanus jumped in, the splash of water hitting your face. You laughed, using your arms to keep you afloat. Coriolanus muttered an apology through a smile, but you barely noticed as your eyes fell over his light skin, his collar bones and muscular shoulders.
The lake was sweet, a nice relief from the constant smell of coal and sweat, the rowdy crowds and the smell of liquor on everyone's breath. Some time later Lucy had swam to shore, helping Aaroa and Tip fish and dig up Katniss' roots.
You floated on your back, the gentle waves lapping at your skin as the sun warmed your face. Coriolanus sat on the edge of the dock, toying with his fingers as he watched you. The wind blew the waves softly, the sun reflecting on your skin like liquid gold. He pushed himself off the dock, slipping below the cold water once again. âCan I hear you sing?â His voice made you turn your head to look at him.
âI donât sing,â You muttered, turning your head to face the sun again.
âLucy said you sing.â
You turned to swim properly, treading water. âIf you wanna hear someone sing you should ask Lucy,â You insisted. You pushed yourself closer, slipping your fingers under the slim metal chain of his dog tags, untangling the knot. You moved it to hang properly from his neck, your nails dragging ever so slightly across his soft skin.
His icy blue eye moved from your hand on his skin and looked up at your face, droplets of water falling from your hair, and slipping down your skin and when they hit your lips, you swiped them away with your tongue. âI wanna hear you sing.â His eyes snapped up to meet yours as you lifted her gaze from the metal chain.
You chuckled softly and he swore it sounded like the sweetest melody, a honeydew sound that he couldn't help but smile at. âYouâre funny Coriolanus Snow,â you said softly. âTurning down the winner of the Hunger Games. A true victor.â
Coriolanus wiped a hand down his face, wiping away the water running over his eyes. âWhat about you?â He asked.
You shook your head softly. âSheâs the star, the songbird,â You insisted, unsure you were convincing him or yourself. His smile made your stomach flip, his gaze made your cheeks burn, but his words⌠his honey words.
His hand slowly reached out, his fingers slipping beneath the strap of your bra and sliding it back up your shoulder. His hand lingered there for a moment before falling back into the water. âLuckily I like roses.â
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#m0chaminx#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#the hunger games#hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#ballad of songbirds and snakes#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow smut
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Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want a Refund || Trey Clover
When the universe dunks you into a dumpster fire of a novel as the villainess, survival is key. Except your husband, Trey Clover, turns out to be such a green flag that it gets a little harder to function.
Series Masterlist
You prided yourself on being a normal, decent person. Maybe even a good person, depending on who you asked. Sure, you werenât out here saving kittens from trees or solving world hunger, but you did your part.
You recycled when you remembered, held the door open for strangers (if they were close enough, you werenât that kind of hero), and even tossed bread crumbs to the pigeons outside your apartment every now and then. It wasnât much, but it was honest work.
So, really, what you didnât expect was to be completely betrayed by the universe. The betrayal began small, like a mosquito buzzing in your ear: the newest novel youâd been anticipating for months was sold out.
âAre you serious?â you grumbled, glaring at the empty display like it had just insulted your mother. A handwritten sign on the shelf read: âSOLD OUT! More in stock soon!â in cheerful cursive, as if mocking you.
What were you supposed to do now? Go home empty-handed? Waste your perfectly good afternoon plans of curling up with a book? Absolutely not. Refusing to admit defeat, you scanned the bookstore until your gaze fell on the âNew and Best-Sellingâ rack.
One book immediately caught your eye. The cover was... well, something. It looked like someone had raided a middle schoolerâs stash of Barbie stickers, splattered glitter over the whole thing, and slapped on an aggressively curly gold font that screamed, IâM A ROMANCE NOVEL!
You sighed. âFine. How bad could it be?â
It could be very, very bad.
The first red flag was the synopsis. It introduced Trey Clover, the Grand Duke, who loved his spouse, the villainess, with a devotion so pure it made you want to gag. But then came the second male lead, the Prince, who confessed his love to Trey and the villainess, because monogamy was too boring for this book.
And then there was the heroine. The synopsis just called her âthe Saintess,â because why bother giving her a name when her only personality trait was being the worst human being imaginable? She appeared out of nowhere, became the Saintess overnight (because logic?), and made it her lifeâs mission to ruin the villainessâs life while somehow convincing everyone she was an angel.
Oh, and the Prince? The book had him slip on a rock and die halfway through the plot, like the author had a word count limit and didnât know what else to do with him. The villainess ends up dying too, right aftetr asking Trey for a divorce to "protect him." The ending involved Trey marrying the heroine, despite spending the entire book side-eyeing her like she owed him rent.
You closed the book slowly, your soul drained of all joy. âWhat in the fresh hell did I just read?â
But no, you couldnât let this stand. You were a taxpayer, a contributing member of society. You did not deserve this literary slap in the face.
With righteous indignation burning in your chest, you marched back to the bookstore. You slapped the book onto the counter with a dramatic flair that deserved a standing ovation.
âRefund,â you declared, glaring at the cashier.
âUh... we donât usually do refunds on books youâve already read...â they began hesitantly.
âI donât care,â you snapped, pointing at the glittering monstrosity. âThis isnât a book. Itâs a hate crime against literature. A refund, please, before I start sobbing in public.â
After a long pauseâand possibly fearing a customer service meltdownâthey handed you store credit. Satisfied but still simmering with rage, you stomped out of the store, muttering to yourself about bad authors, worse editors, and the existential crisis of knowing someone got paid to write that garbage.
And thatâs when karma struck.
A segwayâa SEGWAYâcame hurtling toward you at Mach speed, piloted by a man dressed in full medieval knight armor.
âMAKE WAY FOR SIR SCOOTINGTON!â he screamed, his voice muffled by his helmet.
You froze. Your brain could not process this level of absurdity in such a short amount of time. Was this a prank? A hallucination? Had the book actually been cursed and now you were living out its bad writing?
The segway didnât stop. It hit you with a solid THUNK, sending you flying backward into a suspiciously well-placed pile of garbage bags.
As you lay there, buried under the remains of someoneâs takeout and a very old banana peel, as your vision started to blur, you stared at the sky and thought:
Dawg, why me??
You woke up to the faint chirping of birds and the kind of silence that only rich people seem to afford. Something felt... off. The sheets were too soft, like theyâd been spun from angel whispers and a mid-tier deityâs hair. Your pillow was the perfect combination of fluffy and firm, a far cry from the lumpy second-hand abomination youâd bought on sale three years ago.
Your eyes cracked open, squinting against the sunlight filtering through an elaborate, gold-encrusted chandelier. A chandelier. In a bedroom. You lived in a shoebox apartment; your idea of luxury was a lamp that wasnât from a clearance bin.
You turned your head slightly, and your soul froze mid-exit.
There was someone next to you.
Your brain screeched to a halt, flashing every warning signal it had. Stranger. Bed. You. No.
The only living thing that shouldâve been in your apartment was the stray cat youâd nicknamed Gremlin, and he sure as hell didnât have human proportions or a steady breathing rhythm.
Slowlyâpainstakinglyâyou tilted your head to look at your unwanted companion.
It was a man. A very attractive man, sleeping peacefully on his side, glasses perched askew on the nightstand. His hair was a soft mess, his breathing even, and his entire aura screamed gentle husband vibes.
Then recognition sucker-punched you in the gut.
No.
No.
It couldnât be.
You blinked. Looked again. Replayed every horrible memory of that atrocious novel you had read, and then read again because you hated yourself.
It was Trey Clover.
Male lead. Gentleman. Human embodiment of a warm cup of tea. The guy who was in love with his villainess spouse (you remembered her being dramatic but competent) before the world went full dumpster fire.
Your breathing hitched. You stared down at your hands, and they stared backâperfectly manicured, dainty, soft hands that had never touched a single dirty dish or over-scrubbed countertop.
The reality hit you like a segway knight at full speed.
Youâd been isekaiâd.
You fought the urge to scream into the pillow. Was this some karmic punishment for returning that book? Was your snarky review in the Reddit thread too harsh? Because this? This was an unholy level of irony.
Trey stirred beside you, his brow furrowing slightly as his hand lazily reached for his glasses. He slid them on, blinking sleepily as his gaze landed on you.
âWhatâs wrong?â His voice was soft, groggy, and just a little raspyâthe kind of voice youâd pay extra to have someone read you bedtime stories with. âYouâre staring.â
For a moment, your brain blue-screened. Trey Cloverânovel character and now your husband, apparentlyâwas looking at you with concern, and all you could think was: At least heâs hot.
ââŚNothing,â you croaked, swallowing down the rising tide of panic. âJust⌠processing.â
âProcessing what?â he asked, sitting up slightly and rubbing his eyes, his entire demeanor radiating "adoring husband" energy.
You clenched the sheets in your fists, trying to will yourself to wake up from this insane fever dream. Unfortunately, the chandelier wasnât disappearing, Trey wasnât fading into mist, and your perfectly moisturized skin wasnât breaking into your usual crusty dryness.
This was real.
And somehow, you were the villainess in a novel youâd once described as "a literary abomination designed to kill brain cells."
The sound of a soft knock at the bedroom door made you jump, nearly upsetting the tower of books youâd been flipping through in your attempt to figure out where in the dumpster fire of this timeline you were.
âCome in?â you called hesitantly, trying to shove the incriminating evidence of your non-villainess-like behaviorâa half-written list titled HOW TO NOT DIE TRAGICALLYâunder a pillow.
Trey stepped in, balancing a tray of food like he was auditioning for Husband of the Year. His hair was slightly mussed, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up just enough to show forearms that could inspire sonnets. The man was a walking Pinterest board, and it was unfair.
âI brought you something to eat,â he said with a small smile, setting the tray on the table. âYouâve been skipping meals, and thatâs not like you.â
You laughed nervously, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. âOh, um, yeah. Upset stomach. You know how it is.â
Trey raised an eyebrow, his smile unwavering but his eyes far too knowing. âSure. And Iâll be here while you eat, just to make sure youâre feeling better.â
Oh, no.
You stared at the tray like it had betrayed you. Soup, bread, and some suspiciously perfect desserts that looked like they had been made by the hands of an angel. You couldnât say no without sounding even sketchier.
âRight,â you muttered, picking up the spoon with the grace of someone about to face a firing squad. As you sipped, Trey watched silently, his chin resting on one hand, his soft gaze pinned on you. The air felt so heavy you couldâve cut it with a butter knife.
âAre you going to go through with it?â he asked suddenly.
You froze mid-bite, the words hitting you like a frying pan to the face. âGo through with⌠what?â
âThe divorce,â he said simply.
You choked on your soup. The spoon clattered back into the bowl as you grabbed a napkin, trying to avoid literally dying of shock. Divorce? Divorce?! That wasnât in the plan! You knew what happened after the divorceâthe villainess died, and you werenât about to let fate steamroll you into an early grave, again.
âWhat? No! Of course not!â you sputtered, waving your hands in frantic denial. âWhy would I want a divorce? Youâre, uh, great! Fantastic! A literal dream husband!â
Trey blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion before his expression softened into something warmer, almost relieved. âYou⌠want to work things out?â
âYes!â you blurted, nodding with enough enthusiasm to give yourself whiplash. âAbsolutely! Letâs work this out. Together. Like a team.â
His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile that nearly melted you on the spot. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that left your brain doing cartwheels. âAlright. Iâll hold you to that. Iâll be back for dinner, so rest up until then.â
He left the room, and the moment the door clicked shut, you flopped back onto the bed like a deflated balloon. The pillow muffled your scream of embarrassment as you kicked your feet, equal parts flustered and mortified. What was that? Why did he have to be so sweet? How were you supposed to survive this level of tenderness without combusting?
The door creaked open again.
You froze mid-giggle, legs tangled in the sheets like a caught fish. Trey stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised and looking like he was about two seconds away from bursting into laughter. âForgot my pen,â he said casually, strolling over to grab the item from the bedside table.
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. âOh. Uh. Right.â
He paused on his way out, leaning down to kiss your cheek with infuriating gentleness. âIâll see you at dinner.â
And just like that, he was gone again, leaving you red-faced, flustered, and questioning every life choice that had led to this moment.
It had been such a nice meal. The kind where the food was good, the company better, and the wine just strong enough to make you feel warm and floaty but not stupid. Trey was smiling faintly at you over his plate, his rare but deeply satisfying Iâm enjoying myself face in full effect, and you dared to think, Hey, maybe I can survive this isekai nonsense after all.
And then the restaurant door swung open, and your fragile peace shattered like a dropped wine glass.
The prince had arrived.
Treyâs face immediately darkened like a thunderstorm on the horizon, and you felt yourself lose a year of your life just from sheer dread. The prince was a walking disaster in human form, and youâd been hoping to avoid him like the plague. But the universe clearly hated you because here he was, sashaying through the restaurant like he owned the place.
âOh no,â you whispered, gripping your fork like it could somehow protect you.
Treyâs jaw tightened as the prince spotted you both, his grin wide enough to make you wish the floor would open up and swallow you.
âDarlings!â the prince cried, crossing the room with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever off its leash. âFancy seeing you here!â
You didnât even get a chance to object before he grabbed a chair from a nearby table, spun it around dramatically, and wedged himself between you and Trey, plopping down like heâd been invited. Spoiler alert: he hadnât.
âYour Highness,â Trey said through clenched teeth, managing to sound both polite and like he was ready to stab someone with a salad fork.
âOh, come now, Trey,â the prince laughed, waving off the formality. âNo need to be so stiff. After all, weâre practically family!â
You didnât get the chance to ask how that made sense before he grabbed your handâand Treyâsâplanting a wet, sloppy kiss on each. The sound it made was unholy, like a boot pulling free from a swamp. You and Trey simultaneously stiffened, the same thought clearly running through your minds: Donât cringe, donât cringe, donât cringeâŚ
âI simply had to come over when I saw you two!â the prince gushed, oblivious to your visible discomfort. âThe saintessâbless her kind, radiant heartâhas been dying to see you both!â
You glanced at Trey, who was visibly restraining himself from rolling his eyes.
âSheâs throwing a ball this weekend,â the prince continued, clasping his hands together like he was sharing the worldâs most exciting news. âAnd you must come. Truly, itâd be⌠well, treasonous not to, considering weâre both inviting you!â
Ah, there it was. The veiled threat disguised as politeness. You hated that this guy was smart enough to wield his royal status as a weapon, even if he made everything sound like it came with a complimentary gift basket.
You forced a smile, hoping it didnât look too much like a grimace. âWeâd be honored, Your Highness.â
Trey shot you a subtle look, one that very clearly said Traitor, but you knew he agreed. Anything to avoid another round of Wet Hand Kisses.
âWonderful!â the prince declared, clapping his hands together. âI knew you two would understand. You always were the reasonable ones.â
He finally stood up, ruffling Treyâs hair in a way that made his eye twitch before striding off like he hadnât just hijacked your peaceful dinner.
As soon as the door swung shut behind him, you slumped back in your chair, utterly drained. âI feel like I need to bathe in holy water.â
Trey pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, âI shouldâve poisoned his dessert last time.â
You stared at him. âYou what?â
âNothing,â he said, picking up his fork like nothing had happened. âLetâs finish eating.â
You could still feel the ghost of the princeâs wet kiss on your hand, and you shuddered. âDo you think we can fake our deaths before Saturday?â
Trey actually looked like he was considering it.
The ball was, against all odds, actually enjoyable. The lights glittered like fairy dust, the music was just the right level of lively, and the wine was strong enough to turn your earlier dread into a warm, floaty haze. Trey was by your side, charming in his tailored suit, and for once, the prince and saintess were blissfully absent.
"Maybe they got lost," you whispered to Trey, leaning in conspiratorially. "Or better yet, maybe they found a better party and decided to leave us alone."
Trey smirked, sipping his wine. "If only we were that lucky."
Your hopes were dashed, naturally, when the prince appeared out of nowhere like some unholy summon. One second you were lifting a glass to your lips, and the next, your arm was being yanked so hard you almost spilled your drink.
âCome now, my dear!â the prince declared, grinning in a way that felt more like a threat than an invitation. âDance with me!â
Before you could even process what was happening, you were being twirled onto the dance floor. Across the room, you caught a glimpse of Trey being snatched by the saintess, who looked like she had all the coordination of a baby deer on ice.
The prince pulled you in too close, his breath an unholy concoction of garlic and what mightâve been sour milk. You tried to politely lean back, but he just leaned closer, grinning obliviously.
âYouâre stiff, my dear,â he said, his voice low and entirely too sultry for someone who smelled like a kitchen accident. âLoosen up!â
Meanwhile, Trey was enduring his own nightmare. The saintess stepped on his foot with her stiletto for the fourth time, and you could swear you saw him wince in actual pain. She was chattering nonstop about somethingâmaybe puppies, maybe world peaceâyou couldnât hear over the sound of her heels clobbering the floor.
When the ordeal finally ended, you staggered back to Trey, feeling like youâd aged ten years. He looked equally frazzled, rubbing his shoulder like it had been yanked out of its socket.
âIâd say that was horrible,â he said under his breath, âbut I think âhorribleâ is too kind.â
Before you could respond, the saintess suddenly tripped. She wasnât even near youâshe was all the way across the roomâbut she hit the ground with a dramatic thud, and her dress promptly ripped down the side.
You blinked. âWait, what justââ
âI knew it!â she screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at you from the floor. âYou sabotaged me!â
The prince, for once, looked baffled. He glanced between her and you like he was trying to solve a complicated riddle. âBut⌠she wasnât even near you?â
âSABOTAGE!â the saintess shrieked again, her voice cracking.
The original villainess wouldâve taken the high road, maybe pretended to be insulted or outraged. You, however, were just drunk enough to find the entire thing hilarious.
You laughed. Loudly.
And to your absolute delight, the crowd followed suit. Quiet snickers turned into outright guffaws as everyone around you dissolved into laughter.
The saintess gawked, looking like a wet cat as she scrambled to her feet. âYouâre all⌠MONSTERS!â she shrieked, before fleeing the room with a level of dramatics that would make even a soap opera jealous.
The prince hesitated, torn between chasing after her or staying to glower at you and Trey. Finally, with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like âI hate my life,â he ran after her, disappearing into the night.
âWell,â Trey said, offering his hand with a faint smirk, âthat was⌠something. Care to salvage the evening with a proper dance?â
You took his hand, letting him spin you onto the floor. The music softened, the crowd fading into the background as Trey pulled you close.
âYou look stunning tonight,â he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as you danced.
The compliment hit you like a sucker punch, leaving you so dazed that, in your flustered state, you impulsively dipped him instead of the other way around.
Trey laughed, eyes crinkling with genuine delight. âWhat are you doing?â
âShut up,â you hissed, cheeks burning as you held the pose.
But to your surprise, he didnât protest. He let you dip him, even laughing as you pulled him back up. And when the dance ended, he kissed your cheek, sending your heart into a full-on meltdown.
âThat,â he said, his voice filled with amusement, âwas the most fun Iâve had at a ball in years.â
The tea party was a picturesque affair, all pastel tablecloths, delicate porcelain cups, and the kind of floral arrangements that screamed wealth and good taste. You were seated with Riddle, Cater, and Cheânya at a table tucked under a wisteria-laden gazebo, trying your best to survive the endless parade of gossip and sweets.
The conversation drifted naturally, like it always did, until someoneâprobably Caterâbrought up the topic of Trey.
âYâknow,â Cater began, swirling his tea with exaggerated nonchalance, âTreyâs been looking at you like you personally hung the moon and stars lately. Itâs kinda adorable.â
Cheânya leaned over, grinning like the Cheshire Cat he was. âSo deep in love, itâs practically a romantic trench. Whatâs your secret, huh? Love potion? A really good pie?â
You chuckled, brushing off the comment, but then you glanced across the gardenâand froze.
There he was, Trey Clover, the ridiculously perfect husband material that fate had handed you in this bizarre isekai life. He was standing a little ways off, chatting with a few nobles, but his gaze was unmistakably fixed on you.
When your eyes met, he smiled. Not just any smileâa warm, genuine, I-would-die-for-you-and-bake-you-cookies-afterwards kind of smile. It hit you like a runaway carriage.
Your chest tightened, your stomach flipped, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to pause.
Oh no.
Oh no.
You were in so deep.
Like, Titanic-hitting-the-iceberg-and-sinking-to-the-ocean-floor deep.
âUh oh,â Cater sang, leaning closer with a smirk that could only mean trouble. âI know that look. Someone just had their Hallmark movie epiphany.â
You snapped out of it, cheeks burning. âWhat look? I donât have a look!â
âOh, you totally do,â Cheânya chimed in, his grin somehow wider. âItâs all dreamy and starry-eyed, like youâre in a fairy tale. Which, I guess you kinda are?â
Riddle, ever the straight man in these situations, regarded you with a mix of pity and exasperation. âPlease tell me youâre not about to let these two meddle in your relationship.â
But before you could defend yourself, Cater was already leaning forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. âCay-Cayâs got you covered! Wanna confess? I can totally set the moodâcandles, roses, soft musicâŚâ
âIâwhat?â you stammered, still too dazed by your revelation to form a coherent response.
âThatâs a yes!â Cheânya declared, clapping his hands together. âAlright, letâs brainstorm. Hot air balloon confession? Dramatic rain scene? Ooh, what aboutââ
âAbsolutely not,â Riddle interrupted, his tone sharp as ever. He turned to you, expression weary. âIâll make sure they donât do anything absurd, but honestly, why not just tell Trey yourself? Heâs your husband.â
You groaned, sinking into your chair as Cater and Cheânya continued to scheme with increasingly outlandish ideas. Meanwhile, Riddle looked at you like youâd just wired your entire fortune to a scammer and promised to fix it for you later.
Across the garden, Trey caught your gaze again, his brows furrowing slightly in concern at your flustered state. He started to make his way over, and your heart leapt into your throat.
Oh no.
Whatever happened next, you were absolutely not ready.
Riddle had been firm, as always. âA pie,â he said with the kind of authority youâd expect from someone sentencing a man to death. âItâs simple, heartfelt, and Trey would appreciate the effort. Not that I have time to indulge in frivolities like this, but⌠youâre lucky I know the basics.â
Turns out, Riddle did not know the basics. And neither did you.
What followed could only be described as a culinary catastrophe.
The kitchen looked like it had been struck by a flour tornado, with you and Riddle at its chaotic epicenter. Your attempt at pie dough was a war crime in the makingâhalf stuck to the counter, half to your hands, and none of it remotely edible.
âWhy is it stretching?â Riddle hissed, his face as red as his hair, holding one end of the dough while you gripped the other. The elastic monstrosity between you refused to snap, stretching longer and longer like some unholy noodle.
âI donât know!â you shrieked back, your voice an octave higher than usual. âI followed the instructions! Mostly! Kind of!â
ââKind ofâ isnât good enough! Put some force into it!â
Riddle tugged one end of the dough like he was in a tug-of-war with a particularly stubborn ghost. You yanked back, and the dough elongated even further, wobbling ominously in the air.
Thatâs when Trey walked in.
He stopped in the doorway, taking in the absolute chaos: the flour-streaked counter, the rolling pin embedded in what used to be a bag of sugar, and you and Riddle holding opposite ends of the worldâs saddest dough.
âWhat⌠exactly is happening here?â Trey asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
You froze, still clutching the dough. Riddle looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
âWeâre baking,â you managed to squeak out.
Trey blinked, then burst into laughter, the sound warm and rich like honey. âIs that what youâre calling this?â
His laughter didnât help your embarrassment, but the way he stepped forward, gently taking the dough from you and Riddle like a benevolent baking god, did. âAlright, letâs see if we can salvage this. Flour, water⌠and patience. You two watch and learn.â
You stood back, flustered and hopelessly smitten as Trey worked his magic. In minutes, he turned your disaster into a perfectly respectable pie crust. He even smiled at you both as if to say nice try, kids, and it made you feel oddly warm inside.
Still too mortified to admit the pie was meant for him, you let him finish it while Riddle quietly excused himself, muttering about overdue paperwork.
You did feel for Riddle, poor guy was stuck babysitting the Prince after all. Maybe the dough was sad because of his stress.
Later, Cater and Cheânya were far too pleased with themselves when they found you.
âSo,â Cater said, grinning, âhowâs Operation Swoon going?â
âI donât want to talk about it,â you grumbled, remembering the dough debacle.
Cheânyaâs grin widened. âLucky for you, weâve got Plan B: flowers! Romantic, classic, and impossible to mess up.â
You werenât sure about that last part, but their enthusiasm was infectious. You ended up at a florist with Cater coaching you through every step, from picking out the blooms to tying a ribbon. By the time you were done, the bouquet looked gorgeous.
When you handed the flowers to Trey later, he looked⌠stunned. His eyes widened, his cheeks turned faintly pink, and his smile was so soft and genuine that you nearly dropped dead on the spot.
âFor me?â he asked, his voice quieter than usual.
You nodded, suddenly nervous. âYeah. Just, uh, wanted to thank you. For everything. You know.â
Trey cradled the bouquet like it was something precious. âThank you. Really. This means a lot.â
And when he smiled at you again, you realized that maybe, just maybe, Cater and Cheânyaâs meddling wasnât so bad after all.
You were practically vibrating with excitement as you entered the restaurant, rare flower in hand. Youâd spent far too much money on it, but it was worth it. Trey deserved nothing less. The merchant had waxed poetic about how the flower symbolized eternal devotion, and you figured it was the perfect way to set the stage for your long-overdue confession.
Trey was already seated at the table, his calm demeanor somehow both comforting and devastatingly attractive. When he saw you approach, his eyes softened, and that sweet smile of hisâthe one that made your knees weakâspread across his face.
You handed him the flower, and his expression lit up as though youâd just handed him the moon.
âFor me?â he asked, his voice full of surprise and warmth.
âOf course,â you said, a little shy but mostly proud of yourself. âI thought it suited you.â
His fingers brushed yours as he took the flower, and before you knew it, you were holding hands across the table. The atmosphere felt perfectâsoft candlelight, his warm gaze locked on yours, and your heart pounding like it had just discovered cardio.
This was it. The moment to confess that you loved him.
You opened your mouth, ready to pour your heart outâ
And then she appeared.
The saintess, an uninvited hurricane in the form of a woman, swept into the room with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. You barely had time to process her arrival before she snatched the flower from Treyâs hand like a seagull stealing a french fry.
âOh, Trey, you shouldnât have!â she gushed, clutching the flower to her chest like a deranged soap opera villain. âHow thoughtful of you to get this for me!â
Treyâs face froze in what could only be described as polite murder. His jaw tightened, his grip on the table visibly white-knuckled.
You, however, were already halfway to a breakdown. âExcuse me?â you sputtered.
The saintess ignored you entirely.
Enter the prince, the human equivalent of a golden retriever whoâd been hit on the head one too many times. He trailed behind her, clearly regretting his existence. For once, he seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and awkwardly tried to mediate.
âAh, maybe I shouldâuhâjust give this back,â he mumbled, reaching for the flower.
The saintess responded by shoving him.
The prince, unprepared for even the gentlest resistance, stumbled directly into Treyâs arms.
Trey, now holding a grown man like a bridal bouquet, froze. His eyes darted to you, silently screaming what do I do with this?
Before he could decide, the prince looked up at him, smiled coyly, and winked.
You mightâve laughed if the saintess hadnât chosen that exact moment to drape herself across you.
âOh, my dear friend,â she simpered, batting her lashes, âsurely you understand Treyâs affection for me. Youâll support us, wonât you?â
You were too stunned to respond, stuck holding the saintess like an overly affectionate sloth. Across the table, Trey looked like he was begging whatever gods existed for an escape route.
Finally, something in Trey snapped. Gentlyâyet firmlyâhe set the prince in his seat like a toddler being put in timeout. Then, without a word, he reached across, grabbed the saintess by the arm, and unceremoniously deposited her in her own chair.
âYouâll have to excuse us,â Trey said, his voice smooth but his expression pure Iâm done with this nonsense. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the restaurant, not even sparing a glance back.
Oh, and he definitely took the flower back.
In the carriage, Trey was silent, his expression unreadable. You hesitated before asking, âAre you okay?â
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. âIâm just⌠tired.â
âOf what?â
âOf not having moments with you for myself,â he said, his voice soft but full of frustration. âEvery time I try to enjoy being with you, someone interrupts. I just⌠I want you. Just you.â
Your heart practically melted on the spot. Overwhelmed by his honesty, you leaned forward and kissed himâa gentle, tentative gesture that said everything youâd been too nervous to put into words.
Trey froze for a moment, then pulled you closer, kissing you again, this time deeper and with so much emotion that you thought your brain might short-circuit. His hands cradled your face, and the world outside the carriage ceased to exist.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his smile so radiant it made your heart skip. âI guess this means youâre mine?â
You nodded, breathless.
âAnd Iâm yours,â he murmured, sealing the confession with another kiss that left you thoroughly, blissfully dazed.
It was supposed to be a simple stroll through the common gardenâjust you and Trey enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and you were basking in the warmth of Trey's smile when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.
The prince.
And worse, the pebble.
You recognized it instantlyâthe cursed rock from the original novel, the one destined to send the prince spiraling into a tragic, fatal end. It glittered ominously on the path, as if taunting fate.
The prince, blissfully unaware, strutted forward like he owned the place. He stepped right onto the pebble, his foot slipping out from under him with comical precision.
In that split second, you knew what you had to do. Annoying as he was, no one deserved to die because of a glorified piece of gravel.
You lunged forward, grabbing the prince by the arm and yanking him upright just before disaster struck.
He looked at you, wide-eyed, for all of two seconds before breaking into a toothy grin. âAh, so this is love,â he declared, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. âFear not, my dear! Your feelings for me are obvious, and I, in my infinite generosity, shall grant you the honor of becoming my bride!â
Trey, who had been watching this unfold with his usual calm, suddenly stiffened. His hand slipped into yours, his grip firm but not unkind as he gently pulled you closer.
âYour Highness,â Trey began, his voice polite but laced with steel, âI think you may have misunderstood something.â
âOh?â The prince arched a brow, clearly oblivious to the warning signs.
âShe's already married,â Trey said, his tone so calm and measured it was borderline terrifying. âTo me.â
The princeâs eyes lit up with excitement, not deterred in the slightest. âA rivalry for their love, then? Excellent! Let the best man win!â
You opened your mouth to protest, but Riddleâever the voice of reason (or exhaustion)âstrode into the fray like a man who had been dealing with this nonsense for far too long.
âYour Highness,â Riddle snapped, looking entirely done with life. âWhat in the sevens are you doing?â Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the prince by the collar and dragged him away like a scolding parent hauling a toddler out of the candy aisle.
âYou canât just propose to married people!â Riddle hissed as they disappeared down the path.
Left in their wake, you spotted Cater and Cheânya lounging under a tree, shamelessly munching on popcorn. Cater caught your eye and waved, looking far too entertained by the whole ordeal.
âDid you see Treyâs face?â Cheânya whispered loudly. âIâd give it a solid nine out of ten on the jealousy scale.â
âTotally,â Cater agreed. âHey, Alfred!â he called to the butler nearby. âGet me a glass of wine; this showâs getting good!â
Before you could decide whether to laugh or cringe, Treyâs hand gently tilted your chin, drawing your attention back to him.
âFocus on me,â he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours.
And oh, jealous Trey was adorable. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with a possessiveness that made your heart skip several beats.
Caught up in the moment, you leaned forward and kissed him, a quick but sweet gesture that left him blinking in surprise before a soft smile spread across his face.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Cater almost spill his wine in excitement, while Cheânya clapped like a seal.
âNow thatâs spicy!â Cheânya crowed.
âI need another glass,â Cater sighed dramatically, as if the sheer romance was too much for his delicate heart.
But you didnât care. Treyâs arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and for once, the rest of the world faded away.
The war room was dead silent, the kind of silence so heavy you could hear the shuffle of maps and the scratch of quills on parchment. Every important figure of the empire was presentâTrey and you, the Emperor and Empress, military generals whose scowls could crack stone, the Pope looking as though heâd rather be anywhere else, and, shockingly, even the Prince, for once not actively trying to ruin someoneâs day.
Strategies were discussed in grim tones. Supply lines, terrain advantages, possible reinforcement numbersâyou and Trey were fully immersed in weighing the support your duchy could offer. For once, even the Prince managed to look engaged, though he was suspiciously chewing on the end of his quill like a kid stuck in detention.
Then, like an uninvited storm, the doors slammed open.
âHellooooooo!â
Every head in the room turned as the Saintess waltzed in, an hour late, as if this were a garden party and not a high-stakes war council. She was dressed in what could only be described as a fever dream of bad taste: a dress so garish and bedazzled it could probably be seen from orbit, complete with absurd feathered accessories sticking out at odd angles like a startled peacock.
âSorry, Iâm late,â she sang, twirling unnecessarily as if this was a runway. âI couldnât decide which dress to wear. Do you think this one looks good?â
The silence was palpable, charged with a collective secondhand embarrassment that could power an entire city.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, wondering if you could claim an "upset stomach" for the fifth time this month. Then, unable to stop yourself, you deadpanned, âYes. Itâd make a great enemy flag.â
Trey choked on a laugh, quickly covering it with a cough. The Pope crossed himself, possibly praying for patience. One of the military generals muttered something under his breath, hand twitching toward the hilt of his sword. The Prince just buried his face in his hands.
The Saintess, predictably, burst into tears. âYouâre so mean! Iâm just trying to brighten up this dreary meeting!â
The Emperor looked deeply, soul-crushingly confused, glancing at the generals as if to ask, Does this happen often? Meanwhile, the Empress, seated beside him, was gripping the armrest of her chair so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
Trey sighed and leaned closer to you. âIâll handle it,â he murmured, giving you a quick nod before standing.
He approached her like one might approach a wild animal, hands raised in surrender. âSaintess, perhaps we could discuss this outsideââ
But no sooner had he stepped within armâs reach did she trip. On purpose.
In what could only be described as an Olympian-level act of self-preservation, Trey sidestepped so swiftly she ended up flailing through the air like a failed acrobat.
She landed directly on top of the Emperor.
The entire room froze.
The Emperor looked down at the Saintess sprawled across his lap with the bewilderment of someone who just found a raccoon in their bed. The generals were wide-eyed, clearly waiting for his reaction before deciding if they needed to draw their swords. The Pope had started sweating through his robes, clutching his staff like it was his last lifeline.
And then, like an avenging goddess, the Empress rose from her seat.
Without a single word, she grabbed the Saintess by her feathered hairpiece and hauled her up like a disobedient child. The Saintess shrieked, limbs flailing, but the Empress dragged her toward the door with a grim determination.
âOUT.â
The doors slammed shut behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening.
Trey cleared his throat, brushing off his sleeves as if nothing had happened. âWell,â he said, returning to his seat beside you. âThat was⌠eventful.â
âEventful?â you hissed, elbowing him. âShe just dive-bombed the Emperor!â
Trey shrugged, lips twitching. âAnd yet here we are, still alive. Iâd call that a win.â
Across the table, the Emperor straightened his robes, trying to reclaim what little dignity he had left. âShall we⌠continue?â he asked, though his tone suggested he wanted nothing more than a stiff drink and a nap.
You nodded, biting your lip to suppress a laugh as the meeting resumed. Somehow, against all odds, you managed to get back to planning strategy. But you knew this story was one for the history books. Or at least for drunken retellings later.
The negotiation room was a grand affair, with gilded walls, an impossibly long table, and an air of tension so thick you could slice it with a butter knife.
The opposing kingdomâs crown princess sat across from your delegation, radiating intelligence and poise. Her every word was measured, her presence commanding, and she somehow managed to make a simple quill look like a weapon of mass destruction.
Meanwhile, your prince was... spinning in his chair.
âWheeeee!â
You felt your soul leave your body.
âYour Highness,â Riddle hissed, his voice laced with the kind of fury only a man on the verge of a migraine could muster. âCompose yourself!â
The prince paused mid-spin, blinking like heâd just remembered where he was. âRight, right. Negotiations. Totally got this.â He picked up a quill and twirled it between his fingers like a toddler pretending to be an adult.
You buried your face in your hands, quietly mourning the future of your kingdom.
Across the table, their saint was the picture of grace, clasping their hands as though ready to bestow divine blessings upon the room. They exuded an aura of peace and righteousness that made you think, Ah, yes, this is what a saint should look like.
And then there was your saintess.
She was currently leaning against the wall, dramatically fanning herself with a peacock-feathered fan that you were pretty sure wasnât hers. Sheâd arrived late, claiming sheâd been âblessed by the spirits of fashion,â and was wearing a gown so covered in rhinestones that it could probably be seen from space.
You caught Treyâs eye from across the table. He looked entirely too amused, like he was moments away from bursting into laughter. You glared at him, silently begging him to take this seriously.
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward as if to say, Iâm trying.
Thankfully, the Empress had come along for damage control. She sat at the head of the table, calm and unflappable, effortlessly steering the conversation back on track whenever your prince derailed it with comments like, âSo, how do you guys feel about dragons?â
When the opposing kingdomâs crown princess suggested an ambassador exchange as part of the peace treaty, the Empress visibly perked up.
âThatâs an excellent idea,â she said smoothly. âIn fact, we have the perfect candidate.â
You felt a sliver of hope. Maybe sheâd suggest Riddleâhe was intelligent, responsible, and would undoubtedly represent your kingdom well. Or Trey, whose calm demeanor and charm could win over anyone. Orâdare you dreamâmaybe even you, since you were clearly the only one in this circus who had a shred of common sense. And the two of you could move away from this hellhole.
âWeâll send the saintess,â the Empress announced, her voice dripping with what could only be described as malicious glee.
You blinked. âIâm sorry, what?â
The crown princess on the other side of the table looked mildly alarmed. âUm,â she began, clearly searching for a polite way to decline.
âSheâll be an excellent cultural ambassador,â the Empress continued, her smile widening. âSheâs... unforgettable.â
Riddleâs eye twitched, but he said nothing. Trey looked down at the table, probably to hide his grin.
The saintess, oblivious to the underlying implications, squealed in delight. âOh my gosh, finally! Iâve always wanted to travel!â
The opposing kingdom reluctantly agreedâprobably under the assumption that taking her would somehow count as reparations.
When you all finally returned home, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter, as though a glittery, rhinestone-encrusted weight had been lifted off your collective shoulders.
Trey leaned over in the carriage, his voice low and amused. âWell, Iâd call that a success.â
âSuccess?â you laughed. âWe basically tricked another kingdom into taking her off our hands.â
Treyâs smile was soft as he reached for your hand. âAnd we averted a war in the process.â
You sighed, but your heart skipped a beat when his thumb brushed against your knuckles. Maybe you could live with this version of âsuccess.â
Without the saintess egging him on, the prince had downgraded from menace to society to mildly annoying NPC. He still popped up every now and then, offering unsolicited advice on topics he clearly didnât understand, but Riddleâbless his overworked soulâhad finally had enough. As royal advisor, he slapped the prince with permanent probation, effectively keeping him confined to paperwork and far, far away from you and Trey.
Life, for once, was peaceful.
So peaceful, in fact, that you and Trey found yourselves back at that restaurantâthe same one that had become the backdrop for two very traumatic encounters. It felt like tempting fate, but Trey, ever the optimist, assured you that lightning wouldnât strike thrice.
And for once, he was right.
The food was good, the atmosphere was cozy, and not a single insufferable royal barged in to ruin the evening. You both laughed, reminisced, and indulged in desserts that Treyâbeing the baking connoisseur he wasâhad plenty of opinions about.
By the time you left the restaurant, the streets were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. The air was crisp but not cold, and everything felt oddly serene, like the universe was apologizing for all the nonsense it had previously thrown your way.
As you walked side by side, Trey suddenly stopped.
You turned to face him, confused. âWhatâs wrong?â
He didnât answer immediately. Instead, he knelt down on one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.
Your brain short-circuited.
âTreyââ
âBefore you say anything,â he began, his voice steady but tinged with emotion, âI just want you to know that despite how things started between us... Iâve never regretted a single moment with you.â He looked up at you, his green eyes warm and sincere. âYouâve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and if youâll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making you just as happy.â
He opened the box, revealing a ringâsimple, elegant, and undeniably perfect. âSo... will you marry me? Again?â
You stared at him, your chest tight with emotions you couldnât even begin to untangle. And then you laughedâbecause how else were you supposed to process the sheer ridiculousness of everything that had led to this moment?
âYes,â you said, your voice trembling with joy. âOf course, yes.â
He stood, sliding the ring onto your finger with a smile that could have melted glaciers.
And then he kissed youâsoft, slow, and so full of love that it felt like the world around you ceased to exist.
Somewhere in the distance, you thought you heard a cat knock over a trash can, but nothing could ruin this moment.
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#trey clover x reader#trey x reader#twst trey#twst trey x reader#trey clover#trash novel chronicles
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carpe noctem [ rising action ] | sylus
â summary: youâve convinced yourself that this is normal. routine. that youâre used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun before you. so why does it still hurt? â cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, unrequited feelings, mentions of blood & injuries, jealousy, profanity, sexual content, fade-to-black, self-destructive behavior, somewhat of a slow burn, mdni â notes: thank you so much for reading! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 4 ] â now playing: bmf - sza
Breakfast is uncharacteristically quiet.Â
At least, for the three of you, it is. The silence makes way for the lazy swish of cars on the road, the clatter of cutlery against plates, and the idle chatter of the cafeâs other patrons.Â
Itâs balmy outside. The type of weather that pastes your blouse to your skin and creates a fine film of sweat on the back of your neck. The kind that welcomes mosquitos and makes showering beforehand pointless. And itâs so obnoxiously bright out, nary a cloud in the sky. But you figure you're being unreasonably antsy because youâre hungover and still a little tired.Â
Despite the climate, your ragtag team is seated beneath a cafeâs awning, scarfing down food to battle the effects of your collective hangovers before jetting back to Linkon.
Typically, Ms. Hunter would be on about something, filling the space with her animated talk, with you and Sylus occasionally chiming in to tease her or exchange covert words concerning upcoming missions. But sheâs still a little worse for wear, with dark lenses perched on her nose and a wrinkle between her brows as she pushes food around her plate.
You snort around a mouthful of eggs at her plight, tucking your amusement behind your hand. Decide to incite a little mischief to distract yourself from the weather and the creeping feeling of unease brewing in your gut.Â
âSomeone had a rough night,â you tease, reaching for your orange juice.
She glowers at you. Sticks out her tongue, flipping you the bird. You snort into your drink, nearly sending pulp flying every which way.
âNot my fault you have the tolerance of a three-year-old.â
Your eyes crease at the corners whilst you watch her work up to a retort, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. But before she can get a word outâ
âLadies,â Sylus interjects like a distant clap of thunder pushing across a dark horizon. Heâs seated between you at the round, iron-wrought table, arms crossed over a broad chest. Sunglasses shroud scarlet intentions, but you donât miss the twitch of a silver brow nor the humor meddling with his voice. âPlay nice.âÂ
Thereâs finality there. He speaks to you like a referee. Like a father whoâs caught his children roughhousing, and you both shrink beneath his mock disappointment.Â
âBesides,â Sylus continues, casting his amused gaze on you. âYou werenât in the best of shape yourself last night. Are you really in any position to talk?âÂ
A hot rush of mortification wades over you. You're unsure of its source, whether at your memories of last night or how quickly he came to her defense.Â
And so what if you stumbled a bit down the hall, searching for your room?Â
You didnât think he noticed after your exchange. Figured he retreated into his room, or worseâslipped across the hall to keep his hunter friend company into the wee hours of the morning while you tossed and turned, driven to hell by thoughts of them doing everything besides sleeping.Â
The recollection makes you bristle, and you turn a scowl down to your food. Grumbling, you plop a slice of toast onto the hunterâs plate. She glances at you, confusion pulling her lips down.Â
âEat,â you order. âFeed a hangover, starve a cold.â
âI donât think thatâs how that goes,â she counters, a pout evident in her voice. But she doesnât protest, sitting up in her seat to nibble on your peace offering.
You resist an impulse to pat her head, your ire sloughing off, traded for something like fondness. You want to ruffle locks of silken ebony because sheâs effortlessly adorable, pulling at those little heartstrings youâd worked so hard to conceal.Â
Sylus beats you to the punch, leaning forward to mold long fingers around the round of her head. The world slows, casting a special spotlight on the pair of them.Â
You ignore how your chest tightens at the scene. At the affectionate little tug of his lips as Ms. Hunter cants her face towards him, cheeks full and expression doe-like. You try to pretend like it doesnât make you sick with resentment. Once upon a time, he used to look at you like that.Â
Fuck.Â
What are you thinking? He is your boss, and she is your chargeâyour friend. Thereâs no reason to feel like this, especially considering you practically shoved Sylus into her arms, reasoning you never stood a chance in hell with him.Â
You snap back to the present, and suddenly, breakfast isnât so appetizing. You push around your cold eggs as Sylus and Ms. Hunter slide into easy conversation. You feel like a husk of yourself amid them. Like youâre impeding on something intimate, and your stomach lurches when they draw you into their chat every so often as if pitying you.
Youâve convinced yourself that this is normal. Routine. That youâre used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun. And yet, youâve never been more eager to return to the N109 Zone. To leave these green-eyed thoughts on this island and get back to your distracting life, luring terrible people to their demise and wiping the scourge of man off the face of the planet.Â
You suddenly straighten, clearing the phlegm from your throat. Your silverware clatters against your plate as you shove it away, eyes regretfully shifting between them.
âSo, what time do we leave?â Thereâs a whisper of exasperation in your tone, but you quickly conceal it with that playful arrogance youâre known for.Â
Sylus and the hunter trade looks of confusion and humor, blind to the turmoil of your mind slowly creeping through the folds and staining your pride like ink spilled into water.
âEager to get back to work, arenât you?â
You scoff, taking up your fork, clueless to scarlet eyes studying the crown of your head, narrowing at the apprehensive slope of your voice. âYou have no idea.â
â
Itâs a pleasure to dance. Of course, it always is. Itâs one of the few times you feel desired. Wanted. Useful when your hands arenât speckled with blood and your knuckles arenât purpling from bashing someoneâs face in for taunting The Devil.Â
Dancing is a versatile skill youâve acquired with time and practice. It's one of the few pleasures youâve drawn from this fickle life. One of the few things you kept from a past veiled in darkness, the rest tucked away in the hulls of your psyche. Â
All eyes are on you. Gazes burning with assorted degrees of desire, envy, and awe beneath the tawny glow of the stage lights. The attention makes you warm and tingly, and your lips salaciously curve as you move your body in time with the music, casting an inadvertent spell on all who dare to watch.Â
Youâre the center of attention without trying to be and without the influence of your Evol. Of course, you usually are. Heâs even told you so. Customers often flock to Sylusâ nightclubs to see you dance, hoping to one day have your affections.Â
Or to fuck you.Â
You rarely entertain these people. Not unless you have to. Not unless Sylus sicks you on them to further his goals or take down his competition. Youâre ever the faithful lapdog, tuned to your bossâ every command, and it makes you sick with how loyal you are to him sometimes. A part of you feels you owe him for this life you lead. Heâd snatched you from an impenetrable darkness. Renewed your sense of purpose and redirected your desire for revenge.Â
For now, you have this. The recognition of others despite how misplaced it is. They want you for your body, for the promise of what your facade offers. Deep down, you crave something more, something real. But you tamp down those feelings as you bite your lip, putting on a good show, hands smoothing over the surge of your hips. And youâre spurred by the whoops and whistles and shouts of your name as the lights dim, signaling the conclusion of your performance.
Your chest heaves with the effort of breathing, and your cheeks ache with a smile as you pose. The crowd's cheers dampen the violent thrum of your heartbeatâchase away the cacophony of your mind, adrenaline spuming through you like an erupting geyser.Â
You look over your shoulder towards the ceiling, catching scarlet-spun eyes from the upper floorâs rail, and your grin twitches the slightest bit. Itâs a rush, having the attention of strangers. Having their desire, their yearning. But his attention is much more addicting like Nicotine furling between your teeth. For a moment, you feel seen. Like youâre the center of his universe, and not the pretty, bright-eyed damsel with enough room in her heart to house the galaxy.
Something flashes in his eyes, and the world fades. You mistake it for tenderness. Just wishful thinking. He would never choose you. Heâs had four years to make you his.Â
Why would he suddenly choose to acknowledge you now?
â
Once the adrenaline ebbs and clubbers flood the dance floor, youâre nestled behind the crowd, leaning against the sticky countertop of the bar, clutching a glass of something acrid and glacial between your fingersâsomething to take the edge off. To mute the insistent pulse of your nerves.
The music thumps beneath your feet, accompanied by the sparkling chatter of the clubâs other clients. Yet you still hear him amid the chaosâthe familiar curl of a voice around the vowels of your name. You fix him with an amused, sultry look beneath Luxâs customary red hue.Â
âWhen are you gonna let me take you out on a date?â he asks, worn knuckles easing down the slope of your arm. You track his audacity with your eyes, jerking away from his unwarranted attention, ignoring the goosebumps igniting across your skin.
This, too, is routineâone of Luxâs regulars throwing himself at your feet, begging for an opportunity to court you. Heâs been on like this for months, entertaining your game of cat and mouse. Maybe youâve given him a false sense of hope because heâs yet to let up. In fact, heâs grown bolder with his advances lately, often popping up when you least expect him, vying for your heart.
Itâs endearing, really, having someone who genuinely wants you. Or maybe he doesnât, but you convince yourself otherwise. Play a sick little game with yourself, fooling yourself into thinking that maybe thereâs more to you than your reputation builds you up to be.
You turn towards him, crossing your legs, the leather barstool sticky beneath your thighs. You lean into your knuckles, studying dark brows, whiskey-infused eyes, and full lips. You end your excursion at the thick of his throat, excitement prickling like static in your chest. Heâs easy on the eyes, tone velvet smooth. Had you not been a femme fatale, you mightâve given him the time of day.
But for nowâ
âYou couldnât handle me,â you counter, reveling in how the smugness melts from his face.
He chuckles at your cheekiness, sweeping the tails of his blazer back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Squares his shoulders, standing akimbo like heâs preparing for a fight, though he might as well be, stepping to you like this.
âStill holding out for that old man, I see.â
It is your turn to wear a wavering smile. Your turn to look silly, the proverbial knife driven into your stomach and twisted.Â
You scoff with a sneer, dumping the last vestiges of your drink down your throat. You tear yourself from your seat, reaching past the gentleman to snatch your coat from the counter, pinning him with a haughty look.Â
âIâm not holding out for anyone, fucker. And even if I were, it wouldn't be your slow ass.â
With a huff, you brush past him, wending through the crowd gathered on the dance floor to retreat into your dressing room.Â
You try vainly to contain a scowl, knowing youâve been read like the deckled pages of a book deep down.Â
Maybe you refuse to move on because you feel like youâd betray Sylus if you did. How, exactly, youâre unsure. Heâs had no problem betraying you, quietly shoving you out of the picture in favor of someone whoâs hardly seen him bleed.Â
â
âDo you like anybody?â Ms. Hunter asks above the steady purr of the SUVâs engine.
Her question nearly floors you. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, and you almost choke on your spittle.Â
Youâre stuck in traffic together.Â
Knowing the holidays loomed around the bend, someone decided it would be an ideal day to go to the mall. Of course, you werenât the only people out on the road.Â
So naturally, sheâs bored, unused to the silence stretching between you. The low croon of the music spilling from the speakers does nothing to ease the tension.
You glance at her, and sheâs wearing a Cheshire Cat-like grin, studying you from the passenger seat. You swallow thickly, adjusting your shades on your face, staring at the cars sluggishly easing up beyond the windshield. âI donât like very many people.â
An exasperated sigh later.
âCâmon! Thereâs gotta be someone you like. Yaâ know.â She pitches herself closer, her mischievous grin curling in your periphery, and she pokes your side with a pointed finger to get a rise out of you.Â
âSomeone that gets your heart racing. Someone who makes your face all hot. Makes butterflies swarm in your tummy.âÂ
You know exactly where this is going. Had you not valued your friendshipâor whatever you call this complicated mashup between youâyou would reveal the inner workings of your mind. But how insane would you sound, telling the hunter the person who gets your blood racing is the very same man she has tucked in her back pocket?
So, you deflect. With a sardonic smirk, you jest, âYou get my heart racing when you fuck up our meetings.â
You squint and flinch away with a laugh in your throat as she swats you, whining at your cruelty.Â
âYou suck,â pouts Ms. Hunter, falling back into her seat with crossed arms. âBet itâs that guy who always stalks you at Lux.â
You side-eye her in the rearview, placatingly patting her head. âI like you, stupid. Isnât that good enough?â
Maybe one day.Â
One day, youâll have the intestinal fortitude to tell her the truthâto tell them both the truth. How youâre falling apart at the stitching, the world you know falling away from beneath your feet.
â
Youâre not as strong as you let on. Youâre human beneath that flirtatious exteriorâstill a woman with wants and needs, not immune to the temptations of the flesh. Which is why you find yourself at his doorstep, a glacial, errant breeze ruffling the tails of your coat as the silvery moon haloes your silhouette.
He leans against the doorframe, brown eyes simmering with intrigue as he takes you in. Dark hair sweeps over raised brows. âWhat made you change your mind?â
You shrug, hands stuffed in your pockets, a quirk to your lips. âMaybe I just need a friend.â
He chuckles low, arms crossed. âA friend, huh?âÂ
âYeah.â
Thereâs no mistaking the pitch of your voice. The air charges with something amorous as he ushers you into his apartment. You brush past him, tamping down your dignity as you disappear into the warm sanctity of his home, his hand reassuring at the small of your back.
Had you taken the time to survey your surroundings, you wouldâve noticed a set of beady, crimson eyes peering through the inky night, watching you from their perch atop a powerline.
And had you further investigated, you wouldâve heard the familiar whirr of machinery as the iridescent outline of sleek feathers recorded your every move.
conflict | masterlist | climax
#sylus x reader#sylus x you#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#sylus#lnds sylus#l&ds sylus#qin che#sylus love and deepspace#sylus qin#sylus angst#carpe noctem series#limerence series#reader is not mc
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Come Back Knockin'
Benny Cross x reader (the bikeriders fic)
Summary: When Benny finds out you're pregnant, he panics and takes off. You don't think he's ever going to come back to you, so you start trying to figure out your future without your husband by your side. And then one day, there's a knock at your door.
Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, lots of cursing, mentions of abandonment, angst but not forever, mention of pregnancy, probably typos.
Words: 2900
Part 2: Come Back Together Benny Cross MasterlistÂ
âBenny, where are you going!â you cry, watching in disbelief as he turns away from you and exits your shared bedroom. âBenny!â
He doesnât stop at your call. Doesnât even flinch. Your voice is a pathetic grasp around his wrist that he shakes off like a pesky mosquito. Heâs leaving, you realize, and when your body finally catches up with that understanding, you rush after him.Â
His strides are long, double the length of yours, and heâs already got his jacket off the hook and is pulling it over his shoulders by the time youâre able to close in on him.
âBenny, donât go!â you wail in a desperate plea, but itâs still useless, and a moment later youâre chasing him out the front door into the rain. âPlease!â
Youâre both drenched in an instant, hair stuck to your heads like a pair of drowned alley cats. Your nipples pebble through your thin, white nightgown that now shows every curve of your figure. The denim on his body deepens a few shades of blue from absorbing every drop of the downpour.Â
âBenny!â you try once more.Â
He doesnât so much as glance over his shoulder as he crosses the street toward his bike, so you stop your chase before your bare feet leave the last step of your front porch. All you can do is watch. Watch his long leg swing over the seat of the bike. Watch him kick the beast to life. Watch how he glows angelic-like under the intense ray of the streetlight; a spotlight on the man you love who is running away from you.Â
You donât bother calling for him again. Your voice would only be muffled by the relentless drumming of heavy rain on pavement. Benny leans forward, and without checking for other vehicles, pulls into the street and drives until the darkness of night claims every speck of light from his bike.Â
Heâs gone.Â
And youâre alone.Â
â
You hadnât expected him to be overjoyed by the newsâitâs why you waited nearly three weeks to tell himâbut you didnât foresee such anger over the actuality of being a father. When you told him you were pregnant, his face had darkened in a manner youâve only witnessed right before his fist meets the jaw of a rival biker. And, in some respect, he'd treated you the same. Like you were a pest, a nuisance, an object put in his path solely for the sake of pissing him off; the difference being that Benny would never lay a hand on you. So instead, he'd left.
On day three of your husbandâs absence, Johnny had stopped by to âsee if the kid was still alive,â and you were left with the burden and embarrassment of telling him that Benny had skipped town. Johnny had asked why, of course, so you told him, and by the way his features twisted from surprise to desolation, you knew he also saw little hope in your husband returning to you.Â
Benny has had his reasons for not wanting to be a father, failure a prominent knot in the back of his mind, but itâs not as if you planned this. It was an accident. An accident that you canât just wish away because he doesnât know how to handle being what you and this baby need him to be.Â
âIâm real sorry, sweetheart,â Johnny had said. Youâd done your best to hold in the tears while long beats of melancholy silence passed between you. âListen, you ever need anythinâ, you know Betty and me, we love ya, soâŚâ
Youâd nodded, wrapping your arms around your middle to stave off a sudden chill. âThanks, Johnny.âÂ
He nodded as well, then he'd sighed and glanced around your quiet street as if expecting to see Benny ride up any second. âWell,â he said once it was clear neither of you would be finding that relief, âdonât be a stranger.â
Heâd left after that and you havenât seen him since. Not because you donât appreciate him, but because he reminds you too much of Benny. Betty had called a few timesâsheâs as much a mother figure to you as Johnny was to Bennyâbut you werenât very forthcoming with enthusiasm at talking baby plans and motherhood. At one point, in an effort to lift your spirits, sheâd even mentioned throwing a shower, which immediately made you drop the phone and rush to the bathroom to lose your breakfast.Â
When youâd returned, the phone was dangling by the coiled cord, Bettyâs concerned voice coming through the speaker. Youâd put it up to your ear, told her you'd call her back, and hung up the damn thing. You didnât call her back. You think she got the message.Â
In the weeks that have passed, many of the guys have come by to check on you, and in the beginning, you were somewhat receptive, but it was solely to abstain from hurting feelings and severing ties so harshly. Youâre positive the relationships wonât last. You were in the biker lifestyle because of Benny. He brought you into a pre-established family unit, and without him, you donât belong.Â
You know the day may come when you regret letting the club go. Its members are the only people who have reached out their hands to you, but for now, youâre too numb to care, and with that numbness comes self-destruction. And with your particular brand of self-destruction comes isolation. Solitude. Loneliness. Youâve put yourself in place to navigate the future alone. Finding a job to support your child, hoping youâll make enough so you donât lose your houseâthatâs your priority now, and you have no choice but to step up and figure it out.Â
â
As it turns out, no one wants to hire a pregnant woman. Well, no one youâve contacted wants to hire a pregnant woman, but youâre willing to bet theyâre a decent indicator of most companies' future rejection.Â
Itâs your own fault. You shouldnât be telling them of your condition, but your bones are built of honesty and when they ask if youâll be able to work long-term, you donât hesitate to reveal the truth. In fact, the truth is out of your mouth before the thought to lie slithers into your head.Â
Youâre going to have to toughen up, be someone youâre not used to being, if you intend to survive. And thatâs all you let yourself think about anymore. When Benny slips into your thoughts, you work tirelessly to shove him aside. Itâs taken practice, self-discipline, but youâve made some progress. Just yesterday you were finally able to overcome your urge to run to the window at hearing the grumble of a motor passing by your house.Â
The next goal is to bag up his clothes and stow them away in the attic, but youâve yet to face his side of the closet without breaking down. And to make it all the more agonizing, the fabrics still smell like him. You could wash them five times over and it would do nothing to remove his scent.
Sometimes, at the peak of your pathetic impulses, you want to sneak inside and bury yourself amongst the cheap and tattered clothes. Turn them into a blanket. Forget everything. But youâve managed to resist.
Baby steps, you internally repeat as you bring a spoonful of cereal to your lips. You like the sugary stuff now. The stuff that kids gobble down before school. Bad for an expectant mother, yes, but youâre not about to scold yourself for what little enjoyment you find in this life.Â
Suddenly, a knock taps on the door. Your head shoots up and your heartbeat stutters at the sound, but you donât move to answer it. These days, itâs rare you answer it at all. The guys know not to bother you, as do Betty and Gail and Kathy. If they see youâre home, they leave their tupperware-filled home-cooked meals at your doorstep, knowing youâll grab them once they leave. Anyone elseâsalesmen or mailmen or whomeverâalways gives up after a few minutes.Â
However, this knocking has yet to cease. It must be a salesman, you think with a groan, and he must not have gotten the memo from other neglected salesmen that youâre a house to avoid. You canât afford the latest vacuum model, you donât care to own a stack of encyclopedias, and for the love of god, if you have to tell one more well-dressed man that your missing-in-action biker husband is not in need of a new shaving brush youâre gonna start keeping Bennyâs handgun on the entryway table.Â
The tapping turns into full-fledged banging that shakes the house, and now youâre irritated, offended on the weathered structureâs behalf. Your chair scrapes across the floor as you stand sharply and round the corner into the hall. A curse is on your lips as you wrap your hand around the knob, twist, and pull, but it dies. More than dies, itâs sucked right out of your lungs along with your breath.Â
You want to slap him, split his puffy lips and watch the blood run down his chin. You want to shove him back so heâll fall down the stairs and land on his ass. You want to get your breath back because that curse is clawing for freedom and you desperately want to let it out. But you canât. Youâre frozen.
He looks like shit. Well, as much as Benny Cross can look like shit, which is quite unimpressive compared to other men, but at least he doesnât look well-rested. Thereâs some satisfaction in that, limited as it may be.Â
âHi, baby,â he says. The low tone shudders your spine. If heâs happy to see you he doesnât show it, but you know that even if he is, he wouldnât dare smile after what he did.Â
Your swallow is hard, painful, and as the ease with which he spoke those two words sinks in, every emotion youâve felt since he vanished bubbles over the edge of your resolve.
ââHi, babyâ?â you echo. âAre you serious? Thatâs the best youâve got, you asshole?â Your hand smacks against his chest and the unexpectedness of it forces him to stumble back a foot. You follow his stumble, stepping out onto the porch. âItâs been six weeks, Benny!â
He sighs, holding his hands up in surrender. âI know.â
âSix fucking weeks!â With your second smack, his fingers latch around your wrist, but he doesnât push your hand away, he keeps it planted above his heart, refusing to let you go.Â
Dipping his head, he stares directly into your eyes. The intensity momentarily stuns you. âI know,â he repeats.
âOh, you know,â you say, trying to jerk out of his grasp. âYou abandon your pregnant wife and you think knowing that youâve done it means a damn thing to me? Fuck off!â
âNo,â he calmly replies.
âYes!â you bark.
âNo.â
Tears begin to cloud your vision. He disappeared and broke your heart at the worst possible time and now that you donât want him here, he refuses to leave. And how horrible, how fucking humiliating to have your husband dismiss your desires so flippantly.Â
âI hate you!â you snap.
âI love you.â
âYou left!â
âI panicked.â His free hand lands on your shoulder and slides up your neck to cup your cheek. âI panicked, baby,â he says softly.
That gentle tone pierces your skin against your will and seeps into your veins, spreading throughout your body a sedating sensation. Just enough of the drug to slow your violent pulse without knocking you out completely. And in the absence of such potent rage, sorrow takes over.Â
Your bottom lip quivers. Salty drops create lines down your cheeks and drip off your chin onto the rotting floorboards beneath your feet. He was supposed to replace those. It was going to be a summer project but a month and a half has already been carved out of the season and the floorboards still bow under your weight.
âWhy were you allowed to panic?â you whimper. âI didnât get to panic, so how come you got to?â
He sighs, his calloused thumb stroking your cheek. He doesnât have a response but you didnât expect one, at least not one with any substance, so you continue. âYou know what Iâve been doing while you were out panicking? Trying to find a job so I can afford this house and provide for our child the way a parent should. But no oneâs been willing to hire me.â
Bennyâs brow pinches and his grip on your hand tightens. Broad shoulders fall forward as if you've just placed a few hefty boulders upon them.Â
âIâm sorry, baby,â he breathes. âIâm sorry. I shoulda been protecting you from those kinds of worries. I shoulda been here.â
âWell, you weren't.â
âI'm gonna be,â he tells you, but itâs clear he doesnât believe that you believe him. âI am.â
You wish you could trust his word. You wish it was that simple. You wish you were more forgiving, but a situation conflicting enough to require this level of forgiveness is not something youâve dealt with before. Youâve experienced loss in your life, and you know it wellâyour father left and your mother disengaged from motherhood, but neither were so rude as to put you in a place to contemplate forgiveness for their betrayal. Neither came back to request it.Â
âWill you wait here?â he asks, âand not lock me out when my back is turned? Please?â
Youâre severely tempted to do just that because, frankly, heâs made you wait for him long enough. But for some reason, you don't. You cast your gaze aside, cross your arms, and after a couple of seconds, nod your head.Â
In your peripherals, you detect his light smile. Then he turns, walks back to his bike, and wrestles a brown paper-wrapped package out of the pack attached to his seat.  Â
âWhat is this?â you ask as he returns to the porch and offers it to you.Â
âIf I was just going to tell you then why would I have wrapped it?â
You almost roll your eyes at the image of Benny taking the time to wrap anything for anyone, as normally heâd enlist someone else (you) to do it, but looking at it, it really is a poorly packaged mess. Wrinkled and ripped in one spot, with a lop-sided bow tied from the string thatâs holding the parcel together. Definitely Benny-quality work for this sort of task.
As you tear through the wrapping, Benny collects your scraps, balling the shredded paper together and setting that ball down on the porch railing. The small blanket in your hands is made of bright green fabric with fringed trim, and when you unfold it, hanging it high to get a look at the full thing, you see a white duckling embroidered into one of the corners.Â
You lower the blanket so you can meet Benny's eyes. âWhy a duck?â
He sticks his hands in his front pockets and shrugs. âThey didn't have any with little Harleyâs,â he teases.
To your great internal shame, you have to choke down a chuckle. His innocent joke instantly reminds you that heâs the one man who can make you laugh, the one who won you over because of his subtle wittiness and his less subtle charm. And now you fucking miss him, damn it. Youâd convinced yourself youâd gotten over that, but even as he stands within touching distance, holding distance, kissing distance, you miss him. Â
He clears his throat. âUmâŚif you don't like it I canââ
âNo,â you stop him, shaking your head. âI don't particularly like you at the moment, butâŚâ You exhale and give the gift another glance. âI like the blanket.â
Benny nods. His adamâs apple bobs harshly in his throat as you refold the blanket and clutch it to your chest.Â
âYou think you could like me again one day?â he asks. âYou know, if I prove myself real well.â
Your eyes narrow as they flick up to his ocean blues. âProve yourself as what?â
âA husband,â he says. âA father.â
A husband. A father. One of which heâs been good at in the pastâprior to the disappearing act, of courseâand one of which you used to believe heâd be good at in the future if that was where fate led you, which it has. ButâŚyou don't know.Â
You have two options. Thatâs it. Yes or no. Can you risk it or not? Itâs a lot to take in but the reality is, thereâs a question you must answer before you can answer any othersâdid the bomb he threw at your lives shatter your heart to an unmendable state?Â
You chew on your cheek, your jaw ticks, and then with a huff, you straighten your spine.Â
âYou can never do this again,â you declare firmly, poking your index finger into the center of his chest. âI mean it, Benny. If you do, we won't be here when you come back.â
The ropes of rigidness unravel from his body. âBaby, this is where I wanna be,â he says, stepping into your space once more. âI promise.â
You can feel your heartbeat jackrabbiting from his closeness now that your overwhelming emotions have somewhat subsided.
âYouâre sleeping on the couch,â you tell him.
Benny grins. âThat's fair.â
---
maybe a part 2? Let me know :)
Updated Taglist (if you wanna join)
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BLOOM! â ěíě´í
"everything you do, how you call my name sunday afternoon, come and make it rain. let the flowers bloom, ease my pain. always tell the truth, can you answer me?"
bloom - aqyila
lovesick boyfriend! enhypen ââŠâ§âË๨ŕ§ËââŠâ§â
c/w: suggestive parts in everyone's but niki's. otherwise fluff
heeseung
boyfriend heeseung, who loves that he can be boring and nerdy with you. you guys can just sit there in silence or cuddle while he plays video games and not say anything. he doesn't always have to try to tell a joke or be interesting. he can be his full, authentic self. + you let him talk about his buzz lightyear toys, so he wins.
boyfriend heeseung who is actually obsessed with you, and everything about you. your smile, your laugh, your scent, your body, you name it. he never misses a day of telling you how in love he is with you.
boyfriend heeseung, who is shameless when you turn him on. his hands will be everywhere but where they're supposed to be. he has no problem pressing up against you or whispering filth in your ear. you know what hell yea
jay
boyfriend jay, who is the biggest gentleman. he always walks closest to the sidewalk. he always holds the door and pulls out your chair. he buckles your heels for you every time y'all go out. and even after so long together, he still asks for permission to kiss you.
boyfriend jay, who loves taking you to his hometown, seattle. y'all know that video of him taking a late night walk there đ im sick he takes walks with you at night all the time he just loves you so much and wants to show you where he grew up.
boyfriend jay, who's gentle even in bed. he won't ever hurt or degrade you unless you REALLY enjoy it. he might be slightly rougher on more stressed or pent-up days, but other than that, he literally makes love.
jake
boyfriend jake, who feels like he doesn't always have to think around you. he's so comfortable with you that he knows it's okay to say something that doesn't make sense or something that might not be correct because you won't judge him and you probably get exactly what he means.
boyfriend jake, who is literally your shadow. he gives you your space, of course, but he loves you and loves being around you. he's literally like a lost puppy just following you around the house.
boyfriend jake, who's obsessed with your butt. don't get me wrong, he loves your boobs too, constantly face planting into themâ but that ass though. his pillow. his bongos. his dinner, i fear.
sunghoon
boyfriend sunghoon, who's literally your best friend. like you got a boyfriend and bestie in one. you guys will just sit there and talk to each other for hours about nonsense. sometimes when you get bored, you'll help him with his english too.
boyfriend sunghoon, who thinks you're the funniest person on earth. if they asked who makes him the laugh the most he'd say you. sometimes you're not even telling a joke, and he's in the corner giggling like a school girl.
boyfriend sunghoon, who's the best kisser. i mean he a DEEP kisser, like sometimes you'll withold from even a quick smooch cuz you know freakhoon gon jump out, and you'll end up naked.
sunoo
boyfriend sunoo who's your best friend, pt2. but not only that; he's your best friend, boyfriend, therapist, makeup artist, pillow, chef. he will be whatever you need him to be that day. he'd genuinely would do anything for you, he ADORES you.
boyfriend sunoo, who will always take your side even if you might be wrong. coworker getting on your nerves ? she should leave you alone. you cussed out some man at the club? he had it coming! a mosquito bit you? wtf is it's problem? NOT ON SUNOO'S WATCH.
boyfriend sunoo who is versatile when it comes to the bedroom. whatever you're feeling that day he will do. if you want him on top that night, he'll joyfully do it. you in a rough mood? give him 2 minutes, and he'll get into mode. as long as you feel good, he feels great.
jungwon
boyfriend jungwon, who is literally your other half. y'all are the goofiest duo on the planet, i swear. the type of couple to make up their own language while everybody else looks at you like you're insane. you guys have so many inside jokes, too.
boyfriend jungwon, who's always given you the first bite or last bite of his food. even when you say 'no' or tell him you're not hungry, he will stilk feed you. he loves you so much and wants to make sure you're never hungry and always content.
boyfriend jungwon, who touches your boobs and butt a lot but somehow makes it in the most innocent way possible... like he's not even being a freak he's just holding your boobs as if this is normal. hands reaching out to give your ass a jiggle or make a beat on it like it's a drumset.
niki
boyfriend niki, who tries so hard to be nonchalant around you, but somebody tell him he is NOT that guy đđ˝. you're too funny and too pretty for him to be nonchalant, he be smiling like a big ol' goofy around you. he still tries to act like he doesn't care in front of his members, though. can't let them know !
boyfriend niki, who won't let anybody else touch his stuff except for you. whatever's his is yours once you guys are together. he even lets you play on his game console if you're bored while he's away. he especially loves when you steal his clothes, but he won't let you know that.
boyfriend niki who always tries to impress you. performing extra hard on stage, being really good at a game, walking around in a tanktop and sweats to show off his muscles; anything to get you to compliment him. Please compliment him, or he'll sulk and say you hate him and think he's ugly.
a/n: hi ill answer the asks in my box soon
#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen reactions#enhypen smut#kpop smut#enha fluff#kpop#kpop reactions#enha smut#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#niki x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhaeil â reactions
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one sentence summaries of every TMA episode
(1-60 i'll add more soon)
part 2 up!
world's most effective anti-smoking PSA
man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.
woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.
book makes multiple people fall off chair.
man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.
worm sti.
there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.
fuck this tree
well at least ted bundy was a great father :)
i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds
bitches be dying. you're next.
we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.
sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.
Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)
hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.
man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered
man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.
this guy sucks at DIY home improvement
aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!
oh fuck nevermind
THE SKY ATE MY SON.
the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.
man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)
my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies
sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.
tall squiggly and HANDsome
old man arm wrestles demon through door knob
the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech
immortality but at what cost
working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian
i go to america and get almost killed by a furry
well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)
antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.
bone apple teeth
remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.
babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away
man fucks around and it costs him everything
HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE
oh god oh fuck the worms are here
thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.
the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.
đ¸music makes me loose controlđ¸
spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party
child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.
these mosquitoes are mad sus
man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.
realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.
both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation
guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.
man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.
Something Big Is In The Water.
what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name đł (and we were both prison guards)
i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever
everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals
hmmgh. ant house.
so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.
the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues
đś the snack that smiles back đś (my husband!)
maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.
your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT
Part 2
#i hope this convinces you to listen to tma#podcast#the magnus archives#martin blackwood#tma#jon sims#sasha james#podcasts#gay podcasts#tim stoker#elias bouchard#peter lukas
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The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]
Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]
Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.
Word count: 3465
notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning
Itâs not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when youâve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you.Â
(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, heâd demanded to then watch the film. âBut I didnât stab you and you didnât bleed chocolate syrup,â heâd said, simply, after the scene in question.)
Today, though, heâs decided that there must be something interesting in there, because heâs spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, heâs now fiddling with the trash can.
âHey,â he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters.Â
In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.
âWhatâs this?â He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.
The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess.Â
âOh fuck,â you say, reflexively. âPut that down! Thatâs--itâs--â
âItâs blood,â he says, giving the pad a sniff. âSmells funny though. Whyâs it in your bathroom? Whyâs it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?â The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.
Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. âItâs--I didnât get hurt. Iâm on my period.âÂ
One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.
âOh,â is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. âI guess Iâm lucky then. Iâve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.â
The word study sticks to your chest, but you arenât able to peel it away so easily. You donât want him to study you; donât want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. Itâs easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when youâre firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.
As if anything about this was normal.Â
âCanât you study one of your⌠experiments?âÂ
Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room.Â
At this, Mahitoâs eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips.Â
âOh,â he coos. âThatâs awfully selfish to say, even for you.â
He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you donât bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.
âI want to see.â Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There werenât mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse.Â
âWhy?â You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.
Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. âMovies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show whatâs actually happening down there.â
You squirm without moving.
âItâs just blood.â Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks itâs boring, he might move on. âNothing special about that.â
Mahitoâs smile reminds you of an eel.Â
âThen show me.âÂ
Itâs not a request that you can parry off, so you donât bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito wonât do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.
Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and youâd like to die on the spot.
He gives the pad a poke.Â
âWhy do you put this in there? Whatâs it called again?â
You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. Itâs easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you donât have to fight your instincts.Â
âItâs a pad,â you force out. âI put it there to absorb the blood.â
He tilts his head. âWhy?â
Your nose wrinkles at the question. âSo it doesnât get on my clothes or everything I sit on.â A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.
Mahito tilts his head, and you think heâs about to ask what youâre thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.
âHumans are so squeamish.â His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. âDoes everyone use pads?âÂ
âNo,â you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates arenât touching the couch. âSome people use tampons,â you finish, as if youâre not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at whatâs underneath.
Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.
âA tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.â
âOh!â The edge of Mahitoâs fingers play with the pad on your underwear. âI guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.â He pouts, just a bit. âMaybe thatâs why some of my experiments havenât been working out right. I wasnât taking menstruation into account.â
The thought has your stomach roiling. But you donât want to talk about it. Donât want to think about it--what Mahito does, when heâs not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when heâs snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.
When you look back at him, heâs grinning.
âYouâre squeamish, too. About my work.â He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. âDonât worry. Itâs cute on you.â
With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.
âWhat are you doing?â You ask, even though you know the answer.
âKeeping it.â He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad heâs just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. âI want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,â he adds, casually.
Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. Itâs puncturing the bubble youâve created around you and Mahito in a way you donât like.
âMahito, I am not--â
In an instant, his eyes are on you. Itâs a look that says, âYou are,â and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.
âWeâll have a slumber party this week,â he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. âFor three days? Four? However long you bleed.â He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you donât yet know. âI can get a lot of experiments done in four days.âÂ
You donât have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.
--
When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didnât know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didnât yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: âDude, thatâs fucking nasty.â
And then youâd felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And youâd scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair.Â
You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning.Â
That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what youâre going through right now.
âMahito,â you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. âIs this really necessary?â
Mahito, seated at a folding table heâs hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.
âWhich part? The bowl or you being naked?â
âBoth,â you blurt helplessly.
Mahito smiles. Itâs such a pretty, awful little smile. âThe bowl is,â he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. âI just like to look at you.â
God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahitoâs praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.
Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.
âI thought it would come out faster.â His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. âBut itâs more⌠oozing than anything.â
âDonât call it oozing,â you say.Â
Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesnât waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.
ââHito!â You whine. âItâll stain!â Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesnât matter much now. Heâs not even paying attention.
Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.
He sighs out something like disappointment. âItâs not that much blood at all, really. I donât know why women complain about it so much in movies.â
He wasnât paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.
âWhat? It really isnât. Now, when someone loses a limb, thatâs real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.â He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. âThat would be something to complain about.âÂ
âItâs not just the blood,â you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--
While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains.Â
âGo on,â he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. Thereâs a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles.Â
âDonât.âÂ
Mahito blinks up at you. âI want to,â is all he says, before he does it again.Â
The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. âTell me what else makes you complain when youâre on your period.â
You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, âArenât you even wearing a pad? Thatâs nasty.âÂ
Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.
âCramps.â You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. âFrom the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.âÂ
One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. âWhat a bitch,â sheâd murmured to a friend afterward.Â
âBack pain,â you continue, voice cracking. âAnd you can get tired. You want to eat but canât⌠or you donât want to eat at all, sometimes. Itâs just⌠a lot of stuff.â
Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldnât transfigure you, heâs said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesnât stop you from imagining.
âIs that why women get angry when they menstruate?â The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. âWhat? Itâs what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.â He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You donât.
Instead, you keep talking. Maybe itâs a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahitoâs whim, exist.
âYour hormones can fluctuate.â You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. âSometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.â
Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if heâll get your blood on the silver strands.
âDo you want to cry now?â He asks, almost sweetly. âI wouldnât mind.â
Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.
âNo. This is just⌠embarrassing, I guess.â To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.
Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.
âI donât see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.â He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where heâs got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up.Â
âMahito?â You ask, while heâs tinkering with his findings. âCan I put my clothes on now. And a pad?â
âNo,â he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. âI need to put this inside you first.â
You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?
But you know the answer, donât you?
âI donât use tampons.â A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.
He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.
âTheyâre uncomfortable,â you try, louder.
This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.
âBut when I make my penis, itâs much bigger than this, and you donât say itâs uncomfortable.â
Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. Itâs stupid to argue with him when heâs got his mind set on something. So you donât.
When you donât continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least heâs reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches in an entirely awful way.
Mahitoâs lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. Itâs still sore, but no longer painful. Just⌠uncomfortable.Â
âAw.â He pats your thigh. âYou did great. Let me start the timer!â He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment heâs on.
âCan I put some clothes on now?â Though youâre no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldnât be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.
Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. âI want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you donât get crabby!âÂ
Thereâs no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesnât seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.
Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.
âAre⌠we done after this?â You venture to ask, quiet and tired.
Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. âOh, no. I have lots of things Iâd like to find out this week.â You can feel his smile pressing into you. âYouâre being very helpful, you know.â
âI am?â
Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.
âEarlier, Iâd considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since youâre being so sweet about everything, I figured Iâd just use you instead.â
The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end.Â
âSo you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,â he adds, voice still light. âDoesnât that feel nice?â
âNice?â You ask, voice hollow.
Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. âDonât most people feel nice when they do a good deed?â
A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them.Â
A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.
âI guess.â Your voice cracks, but it doesnât bother him. You suppose a lot of things donât bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you.Â
He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where youâd laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.
You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.
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Fluid, Dynamics
âSo, uhâŚâ Anakin said, looking around him. âThis is weird.â
âIs there something wrong, Master Jedi?â the Kaminoan asked, concerned. âI was going to welcome you to Tipoca City.â
âOh, Iâm actually not a Master,â Anakin replied. âMy Masterâs busy, Iâm justâŚâ
He shook his head. âSorry about that, itâs very unprofessional of me. I know Iâm supposed to be professional, but being around this much water is very odd for me.â
âBeing around water is odd for you?â the Kaminoan repeated. â...is there an alternative? I know Kamino is an unusually wet planet, but I did not think the difference was that stark.â
âIâm from a world where there just⌠isnât water,â Anakin explained. âThe only way we got water to drink was to pull it out of the air, and there wasnât enough to go around.â
Then he frowned slightly. âActually, uh⌠come to think of it, it isnât all that far from here to my homeworld⌠do you think I could ship some water over there?â
âThat is an⌠odd request,â the Kaminoan admitted. âBut I must admit, we do have more water than we know what to do with. Perhaps we could discuss something like that after our main business is completed.â
âSure,â Anakin agreed. âSo, where do we get started?â
âI will take you to Lama Su,â the Kaminoan decided. âHe will show you the current state of progress.â
Anakin nodded, absently, mostly thinking about showing up at Tatooine with a freighter full of water.
âHow often does Anakin go on missions without you?â Padme asked, curious.
âIt happens, sometimes,â Obi-Wan replied. âIncreasingly often these days, actually. Anakin is approaching the point where he will have the chance to become a Jedi Knight, and⌠I worry about him a little.â
âIs that something a Jedi does?â Padme said.
âAll the time,â Obi-Wan replied. âBut right now, Senator, your safety is the highest priority.â
He frowned. âThough I must admit, I was expecting there to have been some kind of assassination attempt by this point.â
âYou almost sound disappointed,â Padme suggested.
âNo, no, itâs pattern recognition,â Obi-Wan replied, firmly. âYou see, my missions with Anakin so rarely go smoothly. And if this mission is going smoothly, where the biggest danger weâve had to deal with is mosquitos, then I dread to think about what is going on with Anakin.â
There was a beep.
â...like that, for example,â Obi-Wan added, taking his comlink out of his pocket. âWhat is it, Anakin?â
âSo, first I want to say, I didnât set out to do this, Master,â Anakin said.
â...oh dear,â Obi-Wan sighed. âThatâs never a good sign. So, what is it that you didnât set out to do?â
âSo it turns out that Kamino was building an army for the Jedi,â Anakin said. âAlso, itâs a really wet, flooded planet, they actually have too much water, I didnât know that was possible! But I said that Tatooine had too little water, and since they had all those giant ships anyway I thought some of them could be used for transporting lots of waterâŚâ
âSorry, Anakin, Kamino was building an army for the Jedi?â Obi-Wan repeated, a little incredulously. âThat seems like the most important part of the situation.â
âNo, no, the most important part is that some guy called Darth Tyrannus hired this bounty hunter called Jango Fett to be the clone template,â Anakin said. âAnd get this, heâs the one who killed that bounty hunter we chased, and things got a bit complicated⌠anyway, I went over the technical details and the clones have this weird chip in them and I think Chancellor Valorum might have been trying to assassinate the Jedi because the chip would have let the Chancellor tell the clones to kill the Jedi⌠obviously I told the Kaminoans to take that bit out because we didnât need it and itâs way too much like slavery if you ask me. Anyway, uh, Iâve got the clones shipping water from Kamino to Tatooine for now, the Kaminoans are actually totally okay with it because theyâve got too much water, and I rescued my mother, too! I told you she was in danger!â
Obi-Wan took several seconds to process that particular bit of Skywalkerness.
Then he processed it a second time.
ââŚyou have the clones⌠shipping water to Tatooine,â he repeated.
âYeah, itâs going to break the Hutt control over water production and transportation for anything above the subsistence level,â Anakin said. âAnd itâs going to make Tatooine a way better place-â
âI have to interrupt you there, Anakin,â Obi-Wan said. âYou said you rescued your mother? Thatâs very impressive, but you didnât tell me she was in danger.â
âI did!â Anakin objected.
âYou said you were dreaming about her,â Obi-Wan pointed out. âThat does not mean you were dreaming about her being in danger. Thatâs quite different, Anakin, you must remember to use the right words if you want me to know something.â
â...oh,â Anakin said, and Obi-Wan could hear the shrug. âWell, anyway, I think there might be some kind of Sith plot involved too because of the whole Darth thing. Do you think Chancellor Valorum was a Sith?â
âI see what you mean,â Padme admitted.
#star wars#another bad day for palps#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#padme amidala#kamino#attack of the clones
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Next Door Neighbors | Part 2
neighbor!harry x reader
Summary: Your neighbor, Harry, goes feral after seeing you sweating in your garden.
A/N: Read Part 1 HERE!
Word Count: 5k+
Warning: 18+ only, smut, slight breeding kink, descriptions of bodily scents and tastes (sweat and the like), fluff
. . .
Harry couldnât help but peek over the fence to watch you when he noticed you were in your backyard gardening. Wearing shorts so short he could almost see your cute ass. And he knew you had a cute ass. Cute everything really.
Though, the longer he watched the more like a creeper he felt. Like an actual creep watching you bent over with your knees and hands in the dirt and sweat soaking through the back of your tank top while you were totally oblivious. But you sure were a sight to behold. He imagined how your sweat must taste and smell. There was something going off in his brain as he watched you that was nonrational, quite carnal when he got right down to it.
He hadnât seen you in a couple of weeks. Youâd both been busy with your separate lives and jobs. And it was always awkward for anyone to try and initiate another âget-togetherâ when who knows what the other person is thinking? Maybe to you, it was just a fun one-night thing. Because in a way thatâs all it was to him. Not that he wouldnât have been interested in doing it again, he just didnât know how you felt about some kind of ongoing, no-strings-attached thing. Or if you even wanted ongoing. Or no-strings. There were too many ifs in the equation.
But he knew one thing. He couldnât just stand there like a weirdo and stare at your backside for too much longer. So he had an idea, returning to his kitchen he poured two glasses of iced tea then walked back toward the fence and cleared his throat putting a grin on his face, âLooks nice,â he called out to you.
You dropped your trowel and turned around to see your neighbor looking over the fence at you holding up two glasses of something amber-colored. You smiled, standing up, wiping the dirt from your knees and palms, âHi, Harry. What looks nice? Not much to see yet,â you began to walk toward the fence to get a better look at him.
âWell I can see you put in brick around the beds and ya know⌠just looks nice.â He shrugged.
âItâs just gonna be easy to care for flowers and shrubs. Some lavender too, for the mosquitos. Iâve been out here for almost two hours. Itâs so much more work than I thought it would be. Never had the chance to have a garden before so Iâm going to take advantage of this,â you smiled and watched Harryâs pink lips curve upward as his eyes ran down your frame.
âI guess it is a lot of work. Two hours is a lot of time to be out in the sun. I got you a glass of iced tea if youâre interested,â he held it out toward you over the fence and you took it, the icy glass immediately cooling to your palm.
âThank you, Harry. This is nice of you,â you took a drink because you were thirsty. Parched actually. âCome over if you want to sit with me out here,â you gestured toward the table and chairs that were set up on your back patio. And maybe you were more than just thirsty. Perhaps you wouldnât mind spending a little more time with your hot neighbor.
Harry grinned and nodded, âThink I will if itâs okay.â
You watched Harry round the fence and then open the gate to yours to let himself into your backyard and you saw the way he looked down over your skimpy attire not meant for public eyes.
âOhâŚâ you looked down at your soiled white tank top and sweaty chest, âMmm⌠maybe I should change first? Iâm a gross mess.â
âYou look great. Donât worry. Come on letâs sit.â
And he meant it. You did look great. You looked quite like a treat if he were honest. A little sweaty treat but that wouldnât deter him one bit.
Now you were feeling that bit of tangly excitement strum through your veins at just the sight of him. He was so good looking and itâd been, what? Two weeks since youâd heard from him? It was a little disappointing to you that he never called or texted or dropped in to say hi. Especially after that night you spent with him on his birthday. He had your number because you both swapped them before he walked you back to your house after you had sex.
Of course, you knew what you were doing when it was happening. It was unlikely that you two were going to suddenly fall in love and get into some kind of relationship. You were an adult and it was a fun night. Nothing more. And that was fine. Really, it was. A touch discouraging but nothing to be upset over.
You and Harry sat at your table with your glasses of tea in hand and you took another big gulp to cool yourself down.
âSo whatâve you been up to?â He asked as he watched you wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand.
âJust normal stuff⌠work and I go to a book club once a week. Went out and bought all the stuff Iâd need for the garden yesterday. Things like that. Nothing exciting. What about you?â
âSame mostly. Been working late this week, just got off actually. Today was an early day. Uhh⌠I mean thatâs it really. Owning a small business means anytime anyone canât work Iâm doing their job for them. One of my guys is sick. Heâs been out all week. Kind of sucks but I donât want him going to a job and getting everyone else sick.â
You nodded, âWow. That does sound like a lot. Does it happen often that you have to fill in for your employees?â
Harry shrugged as he took a sip from his glass, âSometimes. Itâs part of the gig. I knew that going into it. I really donât mind it much. Does put a hamper on my social life, though.â
You werenât sure why that somehow pleased you. Perhaps that meant he had little time to date around. Lack of social life but with a nice little neighbor next door who was always there when he got home⌠You swallowed a gulp of tea and grinned, âMakes sense.â
Harry tried to keep his eyes on your face but it was hard with the way your white tank top was nearly see-through where youâd sweated. Just under your breasts was wet and along the collar portion and down through the middle of your bra. He could tell you were wearing some kind of sports bra.
âSo, uhâŚâ Harry took in your face and realized that when you wiped the sweat from your forehead, youâd smeared dirt under your hairline. He placed his glass of tea down and scooted his chair toward you, cupping his hand at the back of your neck, âHere⌠youâve got somethingâŚâ he wiped his thumb over your forehead and your pulse immediately began to race.
Having his hand on the back of your neck to hold you in place as he used his other one to wipe your brow felt far more intimate than maybe was intended. You watched his face as he cleaned you up and then he lowered his gaze to yours, âYou are a bit of a mess arenât you?â
He grinned and licked his lips as he moved his hands away and you felt stunned as he lowered his sight to your tits. Maybe he did intend for it to be as intimate as it felt. Maybe heâd done it on purpose.
Looking down at yourself you saw how dirty your tank top was and how clearly sweaty you were. You hadnât imagined anyone would see you like this but now here you were with your gorgeous neighborâs green eyes on you.
There was definitely something in the way he was looking at you that made you feel extra hot. Even the sun wasnât as searing hot as his eyes were on you, âThanks. Sorry I know Iâm so gross.â
Harry shook his head, âNot at all. Quite pretty actually.â
You laughed and looked out into your garden, âNot true. I smell like an unwashed trucker right now.â
Harry laughed with you and he took the arm of your chair and pulled you closer to him, your knees bumping into his as he did so, âLetâs see,â he looked down over the skin on your neck and to your clavicle, leaning in toward your throat you could hear him softly inhale, âSmells more like a sweaty girl who was working in her garden for two hours.â
His nose brushed against your jawline, âA little sweet-smelling, maybe a touch acrid,â he sat back to look at you, âBut Iâm not picking up any unwashed trucker notes on you.â
His smile was excruciating. You shook your head and balked with a laugh, âYouâre crazy.â
He tilted his head and you watched as his seafoam green eyes landed on your lips, âMaybe a little.â He looked back up into your eyes and licked his lips with a soft grin spreading over his lips, âI happen to think you smell really delicious right now.â
Your eyes widened as you scoffed, âYou really are crazy in that case. Delicious?â And even though you tried to sound like you werenât aware of his sudden advances you could tell he wasnât deterred one bit as he softly placed his middle finger over your knee and pushed up to your midthigh before bringing it back down toward your knee again.
âThatâs what I said. Wouldnât mind getting a better whiff, in fact,â his pink tongue pressed between his lips and you could see the tip of it slowly push outward as his mouth parted slightly, âA taste even.â
You gulped thickly and looked from his finger that was still working a path up and down the top of your thigh and up to his mouth and then his eyes. You could think of nothing you wanted more than to tear his clothes off and have another go with him. Except that you were stinky and even though he was hinting that he liked it you werenât sure how that was possible.
Harry could smell you with the closer proximity. And he didnât know what it was about your natural smell that was making his mouth water. Heâd heard of pheromones and how sometimes body odor could be a turn-on for some people. He hadnât ever experienced it until then. But you did smell incredibly sexy. Something primal in him was working its way to the surface and even making his cock twitch in his shorts.
âDo you want me to stop? Am I making you uncomfortable?â He asked.
You shook your head, âNo. Iâm just⌠a little surprised is all.â
Maybe Harry had a thing for sweat or something. You werenât sure. But he was definitely coming on to you.
âSo if I got onto my knees right now, pulled your shorts down, and then stuffed my nose right between your legs you wouldnât be uncomfortable with that?â The grin on his face was facetious but somehow you believed him when he said it.
And what would your answer be? Would that make you uncomfortable? Or would that make you feel good? Would you enjoy Harry smelling your crotch?
âI donâtâŚâ you laughed and looked down at his finger on your thigh, âMaybe it would be a little strange. Iâve just never⌠Like it smells bad,â you looked back up into his eyes as he scooted toward the edge of his chair closer to you.
âIt doesnât smell bad. I promise you. But would it make you uncomfortable?â The facetious grin disappeared suddenly and you were aware that he wasnât playing around.
You laughed out a breath and blinked, âI donât know.â You turned your head to look at the fence, âOh my god this is so embarrassing.â
Harry took both of your hands in his and that drew your attention back to his eyes, âLet me do it. If you donât like it Iâll stop. Okay?â
You couldnât believe what was happening as you nodded and smiled shyly. You watched Harry scoot out of his chair and get onto his knees with his eyes on yours as his hands ran up your thighs to your shorts, âItâs okay if I take this off?â
You let out a woozy breath and nodded, âOkay.â
Harry smirked as he began to pull down the stretchy material to reveal your cotton thong underneath. The soft groan he let out when your shorts were placed down on the grass as he pushed your legs apart had your heart pumping hard in your chest.
You pulled your lips into your mouth and held your breath as he bent toward your thighs and his fingers smoothed along the plush inside part of your legs and up to your crotch.
He scooted in closer, tucking himself between your legs and then you felt his hands on the meaty part of your hips as he pulled you toward the edge of your chair before he tucked his face in between your thighs and moaned at your smell.
You couldnât see his face. Only the top of his head and then his nose as he pressed it against the fabric of your sweaty panties. But when he did that he bumped into your clit and you gripped the arms of your chair at that little nudge. And he did it again before he looked up at you, soft green wandering up your body to your eyes.
âLet me eat you out. Y/n,â he swallowed, âmy mouth is literally watering right now. You smell so good and I want to taste you. Didnât get the chance last time.â
You bit your lip and screwed up your brows as you looked down at the man between your legs.
âAre you sure? You really wanna do that? I just canât imagine that itâs going to be pleasant.â
Harry brought a hand to the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. A sloppy, wet kiss that displayed just how much his mouth was watering, âI want to so bad. You can stop me if you donât like it but donât worry about me. Iâm gonna enjoy myself if you let me.â
You huffed a breath and nodded, âFine. But⌠Are you sure?â
His thumbs were pressing against the apex of where your thighs met your crotch, âIs that a yes?â
Rolling your eyes you nodded, âYes.â
The grin on his face widened as his lips parted and he looped a finger into the fabric covering your pussy and pulled it aside. He dragged his middle finger through your crease and looked from your labia up to your eyes, âRelax.â
Harry bent down and licked a wet tongue over your pussylips and repeated, licking up and up until he pressed into your labia, spreading it apart and lapping through your folds.
He wasnât sure why he loved it. He enjoyed the scent of women in general but your sweaty, natural scent, unwashed and concentrated had his mind going blank. Like he was an animal and needed to permeate himself with your smell. Needed to eat it and digest it and roll his body around in it.
And the tangy, salty flavor was so feminine and powerful and real⌠He moaned as he wrapped his soft lips around your clit and carefully tongued over your bud. You let your head loll back as you kept a grip on the arms of the chair you were sitting in when Harry lifted one of your thighs and draped it over his shoulder so he had a better angle of your cunt for his access.
You hoped the neighbors on the other side of the fence couldnât see anything. If they did, it would just be your back with a man on his knees in front of the chair you were sitting in. But more than that it was the noises you were making that could pose a real problem.
Biting your lip to stifle your moans you looked back down at him. Soft curls on his head, eyes closed, pink lips smoothing against your pussy and lapping at the arousal he was creating. You could see your shiny slick on his tongue as you grew wetter and wetter. The angle at which you were sitting gave you the dirtiest view.
Harry tugged at the fabric of your panties again and ran his tongue along the outside of your pussy under the material of your panties and then he looked up at you as he brought his lips up to your clit and smushed them down onto you and kissed softly before parting from your pussy, âI need to have you riding my mouth,â he panted, âNeed this all over my face. Can we go inside?â
You were in a daze. Harry had very efficiently worked you up in a frenzy and youâd nearly forgotten about your smell as you nodded and he pulled you up out of your seat, walking you into your house.
He was rushed as he pulled you along and into your bedroom where he gripped onto your hips and smeared his you scented lips against yours. You werenât a fan of the smell in all honesty. It was too much. You didnât mind your scent when you were clean but you hadnât showered since that morning and to you, it just smelled like unwashed crotch.
His hands slid under the band of your thong as he pushed them down your hips, âWant you naked,â he breathed against your lips.
You moaned when he pulled your panties down your legs and then stood up to take off your tank top, slipping it over your head.
You reached under the elastic band of your sports bra and peeled it off as Harry stripped his own shirt off and then slid his shorts down his legs leaving him in only his boxer briefs.
He wrapped his hands around your middle and pushed you toward your bed before taking your breasts in his hands and running his thumbs over your nipples, âIâm just gonna say it, Y/n⌠Iâm so fucking attracted to you. Youâre gorgeous but the way you look right now and your taste⌠Kind of having a hard time thinking straight to be honestâŚâ
You smiled at him in disbelief, but maybe you did believe him. He was acting like you were a long-awaited prize. Something heâd been saving up for and finally had the chance to have it. Could your smell be that much of a turn-on for him?
He pulled you with him into your bed, making you straddle his lap as he scooted himself into the middle of your blankets. His cock was already hard under his briefs as you brushed your pussy against the cotton fabric and you were reminded that youâd recently bought condoms. Should something like this ever happen again. But then that reminded you that you were ovulating. Big time. In fact, it was probably THE most fertile day for you in your cycle. You wondered if he could smell that somehow? Was there some kind of innate sense men had during a womanâs ovulation?
You felt his hands around your waist as he laid back and brought you up his chest, âSit over my mouth,â he mumbled his words and his eyes were heavy as you tugged at you.
You laughed at his desperation as you pressed your knees into the mattress on either side of his head and very gently lowered yourself. You didnât want to hurt him but he grabbed your hips and brought you down, making your pussy smother his mouth and tilt against his nose.
A gasp fell from your mouth at the sensation of his wet lips under you. He placed his hands on your ass and pressed you down further, making your clit run against his nose.
Harry would bathe in your scent. Use it as his shampoo and deodorant. Would bottle it up and make a perfume out of it. Yeah, he was losing his mind he was certain. In all his years of being sexually active, he hadnât been so instantly obsessed with scent in this way. But it wasnât just your scent. There was something else. Things were budding in him, like an instinctual impulse. It was something that felt ingrained, bestial. It was a base impulse that he couldnât control.
He suctioned his mouth around your clit and looked up at you with your tits bouncing softly as you bucked your hips on him. Your pretty lips were parted and soft pants were falling from your mouth. He wasnât sure what was happening but he needed more.
A deep, vibrating moan thrummed through your core, âHarryâŚâ you breathed his name and looked down at him. His eyes were on yours already as he moved his mouth and tongue against you like he was a barbarian, a savage starved and heated⌠furious with hunger and you were his defenseless prey. A victim being fed on, eaten alive. It was filthy and so hot and he had your insides twisting and boiling with every suck of your clit.
âFuck⌠you really like that donât you,â you coughed a laugh before softly moaning as you placed your hands into his hair.
Harryâs brows were furrowed as he grunted and continued lapping and sucking. Like he had no time to respond to such a dumb question. It was obvious he liked it. No. He fucking loved it. He needed it.
His fingers pinched into your skin and you hissed at the sensation of it all. He was rough but it was good. It had you feeling like some kind of sought-after goddess over him. Like you were actually something special and he couldnât get enough of you.
Your limbs started to quiver the closer you got. You rolled your hips down, pressing your pussy on his lips and bumping your clit against his nose as you moaned in ecstasy. The nearer your orgasm was the louder your voice became.
He drew your clit into his mouth and you felt his tongue slip up and down against it. The way you began to convulse and unravel over him nearly had you collapsing but he moved his big hands up to your waist to keep you steady as you cried out, rocking your pussy over his face.
You couldnât control the way your body shook in your orgasm. It didnât feel like you had full control of your movements as he continued to lick you through your release.
You jolted at how sensitive you felt, your clit suddenly feeling quite delicate and you pushed your hips up to separate from his mouth but he pulled you back down with a deep gravelly groan as he went in again, his mouth and tongue allowing no mercy.
âHarry! Fuck!â You giggled and pressed your palms onto his forehead and used your thighs to gain leverage to pull away from him, âToo much!â
You backed down his chest to move away but Harry sat up and grabbed your hips harshly, pushing your back down into the mattress after he crawled over you, âIâm going crazy or somethingâŚâ he kissed down your neck and lowered his mouth to your breast and sucked the skin, swiping his tongue over every inch until he moved to the other side and delicately nibbled your nipple and pulled at it with a moan. When you felt his mouth begin to trail down your tummy as his hands began to spread your thighs again you snapped your legs closed and laughed, pushing at his forehead, âAre you serious? Iâm too sensitive, Harry!â
He groaned and looked up at you, âI want moreâŚâ
You kind of loved this if you were honest. Loved how he seemed possessed by you.
âYou can fuck me if you want. My clit needs a little break from your mouth, though,â you grinned at him, âWouldnât mind feeling you inside of me again. I have condoms this time.â
Harry sat back onto his haunches and you saw just how erect and hard he was. His cockhead was pushing at the top band of his underwear, begging to be let loose so you reached for it and pulled it away from his hips, letting his tip poke above the band, âDo you want to?â
He swallowed thickly and nodded, âYeah. Fuck, okay.â
You pried his hands from your hips and moved to the edge of your bed to open up your bedside table, pulling out your fresh pack of condoms. Harry had removed his underwear quickly and then took the box from you as he moved behind you and tore the pack open to pull out a foil wrapper.
You bit your lip as you watched him toss the box onto your bed and rip the wrapper to bring the rubber out.
He looked up at you as he placed the condom on his tip, âWish I could fuck you raw, Y/n. I know thatâs a bad idea in my logical mind, butâŚâ he looked down as he rolled his hand down his shaft and then back at you, âSomething about you makes me want to do a really stupid thing,â he puffed out a laugh as he grabbed you by your neck and pushed you back into your bed.
You were completely caught off guard by his dominance but it did nothing but turn you on even more, âWhat really stupid thing?â You asked as he grabbed your thighs and pressed his palms to the back of them, pushing your legs out of the way of his hips as he pressed himself against you.
âItâs just a thingâŚâ he looked directly at you as his crown pressed through your muscle, spreading you open gently, âLike lizard brain. Spreading my seed, claiming youâŚâ
Your mouth dropped open as he plunged himself into you. That thick cock taking up so much space on your insides it ached.
âOh fuck you feel so good, Y/nâŚâ he growled as he began thrusting himself through your walls, getting himself good and deep, âWant to fill you up with my come is what I wantâŚâ he groaned, another stiff rut through your slick pussy, âShow everyone what I did⌠how I made you mine⌠fuckâŚâ
You understood what it was he was saying. It was that primal thing most humans had in them to procreate. Especially men. And your ovaries were not opposed to what he was saying at that moment. But you knew that feeling would pass once you stopped ovulating.
You sighed as he rocked into you, his chest flushed and his arms flexed as he drove himself back and in over and over again until his rhythm grew brutal and he was hammering into you with deep moans.
You whined at the way he was punching into you, sliding through your cunt like he was going to die if he didnât put his all into it. He was fucking into you like a madman.
âOh shhhit, Harry!â You yelped out when his hips pasted against yours and he choked out a loud groan as his cock began to throb in heavy pulses inside of you.
âFuck, Iâm coming⌠Shit!â His face twisted up as he released into his condom, wishing he was coating your walls and letting his sperm seep into your ovaries. He felt a little bad that he didnât make you come again, but he couldnât hold back. He was in caveman mode, or whatever it was⌠completely blissed out and not thinking rationally.
You watched his handsome face scrunch up and then relax as his lips parted and he ground into you, swiveling his hips against you so hard it made your pussy clench with a pang of pain. The good kind of pain. This was the kind that was worth it. To watch this big man over you in ecstasy, soft gasps falling from his lips as his come drained out of his cock in relief.
When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you he felt your hand on his jaw with your lips turned up in a soft smile, âBetter?â
He laughed and nodded, âYeah. Sorry. Thatâs⌠I donât think thatâs ever happened to me before.â
You gulped and pulled at him, both of you rolling to your sides, âIâm ovulating so I wonder if youâre like smelling the pheromones or whatever?â
He grinned widely and the corners of his eyes crinkled, âMaybe? I guess thatâs a thing right? But⌠Iâm sure Iâve been around other ovulating women. Never made me insane before.â
You raised your brows as you brought a hand to his temple and smoothed his hair back a little, it was all messy from you sitting on his face, âMaybe Iâm just special.â
Harry licked his lips and his grin turned into something playful with an edge of lust, âWell you certainly taste special,â he lifted your arm up and leaned in, licking up the curve of your armpit and you squealed in shock and laughed.
âWhat on earth? Thatâs so gross!â You pushed at him but he pulled your arm around his middle so you couldnât shove him too far.
âMmm⌠I swear you have something in your sweat thatâs making me crazy.â
You rolled your eyes with a smile, âI think itâs just lizard brain. Like you said.â
Harry shrugged and nuzzled in closer to you, âMaybe. The only way to find out is if we do this more often. Probably shouldnât wait so long between seeing each other anymore.â
You were not disappointed by the turn this took. Youâd be down to see him more often if he wanted, âYeah?â
âDefinitely, yeah.â
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â bullying him pt.4 | sub soobin
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, sadistic reader, masochistic soobin, dubcon, hate fingering, sadist x masochistic relationship, mutual pining, mild violence, hurt w comfort, mean dirty talk, reader's genitals are unclear and can be interpreted as either a cock or a strap, misunderstandings, public bathroom indecency, bdsm, happy ending!!!
the long await part 4 is here!! i tagged everyone who wanted a part 4 i hope you aren't too irritated by the tag >.< i did this very tired and sleep deprived so i hope it makes sense HAHAHA
tags: @yaegerphobic @strwbrryjaem @ke4s @sk104kx @bennybenten @queer-n-here @sleeping143 @browni-bin @skinnyzlegendz @roturo @zuzuhasablog
something changed after that date, you could feel it, soobin could feel it and the other classmates felt it too. it was the lingering touches, the maintained gazes during class. the way he dared to stare for just a second longer. you didn't want to admit it, and it was initially easy to ignore the problem. it's not like you weren't used to overlooking soobin. he was simply an accessory in your eyes, what's the use in admiring the shine of a singular gem on a sapphire bracelet?
though, perhaps your dismissiveness was your greatest achilles heel after all. in the end, an undeniable itch would creep up on the back of your neck. like a minuscule mosquito sting that would bloom into large red welts. it started irritating you to a degree. sure you were blatantly ignoring the man, but can a contradiction not be such opposing parallels?
because how dare he, even for a second, ignore you back?
maybe it was the small sigh of relief he let out when you passed by, or the way he kept his head down low when he exited the class. when did it start to bother you so much?
no way. he would come running back. he always did and he always will, you know it in your bones, he will come back he will. what's a victim without a bully? a nerd without a jock??? a locker without a dim-witted loser to push into????????
you will wait it out, wait for him to come out crawling and kneeling, grasping at your leg like a devout to their divine deityâ prayers forcing their way frantically out of his mouth.
but seconds tick by, days even, and suddenly it's been two weeks already with no movement. all silent on the battlefront. is this what it's like for drinks to fizzle out at the bottle of a can? when a songbird no longer sings for the morning sun? and the stars no longer shine for the moon? and whatever next poetic quote that rhymes with moon?
damn, what a sad and pathetic way to conclude it. so this is the ending chapter of the depressing story of a mega fluke and his cool fling.
is what you would say if you were the cowardly choi soobin!!!
because you weren't a pussy, and you certainly weren't one to give up on your pride. so be it, if he wants you to come to him, you'll give it to him.
ââ
â
your glare bore holes into the hunched back of choi soobin. now see, normally you wouldn't even gift that loser a glance in his direction, too risky to pay him attention and blow the cover of your unconventional connection after all. but this was a special occasion, and you felt like your nerves were lit on fire, like a hormonal teenager going through puberty again. it was abnormal for everyone else too, many did not even know the unimportant side character soobin was even associated with you, arguably the most interesting (or maybe the right word is known) person in the classroom.
the metal keys weigh heavy in your uniform pants (retrieved from the staffroom after many great excuses to convince your teacher), waiting for the right moment to pounce. come on soobin, you dare him to move. fall right into the metal prongs.
"âdude, heyâ HEY!" one of your friends, kiwoo, shook your shoulder, hard enough that you broke your gaze just for a second. you snap your head at him, giving him an irritated look that makes him retreat his hand.
"what's with you?" he says, suspicious, "you've been glaring at soobin ever since he entered the classroom. what? he gave you bad head or something?"
"not funny." you roll your eyes.
"is there something happening between the two of you? it doesn't feel like a simple errand boy situation anymore. you're not nonchalant and mysterious for ignoring the question by the way."
you groan, this really wasn't the time for it. what kind of excuse can you even give him? that the weird situationship you had with soobin backfired and now you're acting like an angsty possessive insecure spouse trying to get him back? tough shit.
"it's not even that deep, kiwoo. he just pissed me off this morning, that's all." you scoff out an excuse, hoping that's enough to deter your nosy friend. you look back at where soobin was seatedâ shit where did he go?!
"what did he do now?â" "not the time, he's gone, where did he go?" you look around, irritation seeping into your voice.
"chill, he probably just went to the bâ"
you stand up, muttering another alibi before dashing out of the classroom. you catch a glimpse of his white shirt turning the corner, bingo, he's headed to the restroom! your heart thumps in your throat as you approach the bathroom, was the dominos actually falling into place? you can't believe your stupid plan was working.
once you reach the entrance, you silently take a breath, getting ready for the confrontation. you step in, closing the restroom door behind you with the keys, and you hear an all too familiar gasp as the lock sets into place.
"oh, you, the door,"
his stupid voice stutters out (you missed hearing it), shaky eyes meeting yours. he was sweating visibly, like this was a horror game and he just came face to face with the final boss.
"soâsorry wrong room!" he turns around like an npc reciting a practised line, only to be met with the tile wall, what a dumb bunny. when he pivots back around, you are already eye-to-eye with him. his voice hitches, a pathetic excuse for a squeal, and the world spinsâ you pin him into the wall right behind him. he would crumble onto the floor right there if it weren't for your hands holding his wrists up.
there was a moment of silence between you two, his eyes scattering around as if the gum on the floor was suddenly so much more interesting than the person in front. he bites his bottom lip in fear.
"oh stop it i told you before to not bite your chapped lips." the first words exchanged, a command that he obeys immediately like following your words was as natural as breathing. you forgot how satisfying it was to order him around.
"care to explain why you're avoiding me?" your tone sharp and cutting; as if you were physically pressing a knife up against his chest. he tries to talk. lip trembling, eyes closing, but all that comes out is a fearful whimper. you click your tongue in irritation, releasing one of his wristsâ which limply drops to his side like a ragdoll. using your free hand you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.
"answer."
he tears up, sniffling as he tries not to sob. "m' sorry... iâi'm sorry for ignoring you."
you felt a pang in your heart, you can't tell if it was guilt or anger. "shit quit apologising and just answer my question. why were you avoiding me."
his shoulders were raised all the way up as if he was expecting you to smack him across the cheek, his whole body was wrecked with trembles and you're impressed he wasn't full-on sobbing yet. his face was red and holy shit no fucking way he was hard. what a strong sense of deja vu, wasn't this exactly how this whole mess started in the first place? you just stare at him for a minute, shaking and quivering with a bulge, no answer on his tongue.
"are you fucking for real? what'd i expect from a masochistic dog. of course, you're getting off from this." you grit your teeth, was he just using you for a quick jerk? that this was his kink this whole time and he only ever saw you as a fuck partner? did he ignore you simply so you would snap and give him exactly what he wants???
and for some reason, you felt betrayed, as if there was actually some relationship between you two. how hypocritical too, did you not also see soobin as sexual relief? wasn't he supposed to be an obedient mouth that opened for your dick? why was your fist clenching and veins pumping as if you caught your long-term partner cheating???
"maybe the only way to get shit through your thick skull is to fuck it out of you huh? bend you over in front of everyone with your ass out as you get fucking drilled by a big fat cock? is that what you want?" your words come out forced and throbbing red with anger.
"iâ"
you clasp a rough hand over his throat, though you didn't actually squeeze, he shuts up immediately, eyes wide and fingers quivering. you almost rip his pants down, taking his underwear as well in one swift motion. he snivels pathetically, helplessly being led around as you savagely grasp his hair. you pull him to the sink, forcing him to bend over in front of the mirror. he desperately clutches the edges of the sink with a grunt, otherwise he might be toppled over by your rough handling. his body leaning down with his elbows bent onto the sink edge.
you grip his hair, painfully hard, his scalp must be killing him. you lift his head up until he's staring at his face in the reflection. it was like a brush with scarlet paint used his face as a canvas. his cheeks red and trembling. tears bulge on the edge of his eyes, threatening to slip out any second. his lips long-bitten and bleeding.
"keep staring at your slutty self. watch how pathetic and ugly you're gonna look when you get your organs fucked out. if you break your gaze even for a second i'll fucking kill you."
you cuss with every malevolence in your soul, for a second soobin thinks you might actually kill him. he holds in his breath as if one more sound from him will settle the hatred in your heart and murder him. you spit down onto his ass, watching as it dribbles down, you abruptly prod at his hole. not waiting like you would before. breaking through the rim and forcing your finger in like an intruder.
he loudly groans out in agony, body shuddering and wavering. you smack him over the head. "quit moving so much. shit, i wasted so many stupid gifts on you. and to think i was saving up the actual fucking for something more special. like we were actually a couple or something. but now you're gonna get your organs reorganised in a public bathroom. i guess that's suiting for a whore like you."
he grits his teeth in pain, trying to endure the pain and the humiliation for you. he stares at himself in the mirror in despair, brows furrowed and his vision blurry, his glasses were knocked off his nose from all the movement, but he keeps looking at himself just like you commanded. not trying to disobey you. why did he do that for you? it pissed you to new heights. why was he still acting like he was a goodie two shoes who didn't want to displease you?
you thrust the finger in and out with no care, barely being assisted by your makeshift lube to slide against his walls. his soft whimpers barely slipping out. you press another finger against his hole and this time he does stir, he jerks away. incoherent protests come out when he feels the second finger try to enter.
"break! a break! please give me uh a break bâbefore the second!" he begs, on the verge of breaking into full sobs.
"what makes you think you can bargain?"
he shivers at your harsh words, head hanging in shame. it was so pathetic, you feel a small semblance of pity, spitting more on his ass to assist the second. but you weren't merciful by any standard and promptly slid the two fingers in.
his shoulders shake, feeling full already with the two fingers. tears finally slip out in both overwhelming pain and pleasure. he hadn't touched himself ever since the last time you two met.
your ruthless fingers pump in and out of his ass like you were digging for his stomach, violently pressing against his prostate. it hurts like crazy. a primal and animalistic type of pain. but oh man, the electricity zipping through his body was hitting all the right places. it felt so wrong yet so right. like he belonged here pressed underneath your feet and hands. this felt like pleasure. his dick was tall and alert, pent up and ready to burst. his body begged for more while his mind was praying for mercy.
he thrashes around with each new thrust, being unable to control his body as a guttural wail forces its way out of his mouth. the slopping of skin slapping skin fills your ears. you grunt as you tighten your hold on his hair, trying to get him to stop moving. the more you ram your fingers into his prostate, the more frantic he becomes, one of his hands coming up to weakly pry at your hand holding his hair. you let go of your grip on his scalp to instead pull his body flush against your chest, hand snaking to the front and onto his throat. your fingers ceasing to stop with its insane momentum.
"pleaseâ no moreâ have meâmercy! i'm so sorry i'm so sorry i'm sorryâ" he begs endlessly, sobbing and shaking his head, struggling against your hold.
you ignore his pleas, hand trailing down from his throat to his lower stomach, you can feel the movement of your fingers. suddenly, you push your palm down on his lower abdomen, right above his prostate. just as your two fingers press into the glands. he cries out, head blanking into sparks of light and stars. his cock spasming as he spurts out white stripes, shooting onto the mirror. his hands that were frantically prying at your wrists limps down.
your lips curl into a cruel smile, a sense of satisfaction raking over your body. you slid your two fingers out of his hole. a scoff comes out, naturally.
"hah. you came? i wasn't even trying to pleasure you, and you came like a little..."
your nasty words drift off as you look at him in the mirror. the room is now uncomfortably quiet, only the weeping and sobbing of soobin echoing in the restroom. he looks like a wreck, not in a sexy, sweaty way. but in a heart-hanging, guilt-tripping way. his face was painted with tears, snot and substance. eyes closed and afraid to look up at you. his body exhausted and leaning against you, he didn't even have the energy to quiver.
you did this to him, you absolutely ruined his pretty face and his sweet eyes. you actually deserve hell. what was wrong with you? how could you do this to someone so cute and precious? soobin deserved the world and so much more, he deserved everything good and nice and sweet and right on this earth. but what happened at that moment, how did you get here?
suddenly it was like your throat was constricted and swollen, lips dry with unsaid words. what do you say? apologise? promise to leave him alone forever?
"i..."
"i'm sorry..." he beats you to it with shaky words.
"holy shit noâ no no, don't apologise." you quickly mumble, holding him up.
"iâ i was scared, i didn't know how you would react. because i think, i think i'm insane, i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared you would be disgusted" his words tumble out breathlessly, you just stare silently in shock.
"i'm sorryâ i don't get myself either, because everything about you drives me crazy and i can't be around youâ i know i'm a masochistic dog but i just can't help itâ no matter what you do to me makes me like you more, dâdon't hate me please. i'm such a freakâ" his words are barely coherent as he sobs.
"shh shhh shh it's okay, calm down soobin, calm down." you try to comfort him, beyond confused and shocked. he's crying so hard he's hiccuping and stammering. you help him lean on a wall and he slides down, you frantically kneel down to try and ground him.
"iâ i don't want you to hate meâ but your attention just feels so good to meâ anythingâ any attention you give me it just shakes me to my core... i couldn't do it anymoreâhicâ i had to avoid you hickâ" he hides his face in his hands. you try to understand his words, your head spiralling in turmoil. he what? he avoided you because you gave him too much attention? what kind of fucked up logic was that? this was starting to sound like those cliche misunderstanding tropes in romcoms. nevermind that, you had a sexually confused pile of fluff to comfort.
"soobin breathe, hey, come on." you say as softly as you can, like you were trying to approach an injured bunny in the wild. no matter, your heart pangs with guilt as he keeps crying. you pull him into a hug on your lap, wrapping your arms tight around his frame. this seems to make him cry more, but he leans into you, knees bundled tight against his chest as he savours the warmth. you two stay on the floor in this strong embrace. you coo sweet and reassuring words into his ear as you rock him back and forth, doing your best to console him. kissing each tear as it falls.
his sobs quiet down with each passing minute until there was only silence and mute sniffling. it was bizarre to cuddle on the restroom floor, but it was nice, and you have to admit that you do like soobin in your arms. not embracing him in sex, but in comfort and simply to make him feel good. this was crazy hypocritical to say, considering he was partly crying due to your assholery.
after a few more minutes of silence, you glance at soobin, still hidden away by his hands. "soob, come on, look at me." you coo into his ear, and he makes a small noise of acknowledgement. your hands gently pry at his hands and he lets you remove his shield from his face. he looks at you pitifully, eyes red and puffy from the crying, pouting. you kiss his cheek, you don't know why you did it, but it felt right to. "do you want to talk to me now?"
he nods, but hides his face in your shoulder.
"i... i'm crazy and a freak. you hurt me, you humiliate me, you cause me so much pain."
you grimace, stroking his hair. yeah, that sounds about right. if there was one thing consistent about your inconsistent personality, it was how much of an asshole you are. if soobin was your salvation, it was like the angels gave you a second chance at life. but you honestly wouldn't blame them if the ground caved beneath you right now and sent you straight to hell. was it bad to say you enjoyed all the sadistic acts? probably. you can't lie and say you regret being a sadist. but if it makes it better, you do regret the pain soobin is feeling right now.
"but... please don't hate me for this..."
"i won't hate you, soobin." you encourage him to keep talking, shushing his worries away.
"i like all of it, i like it so much it drives me crazy. i'm abnormal, i know. and i get it if you think i'm disgusting. but i'm so obsessed with you. i think about the things you do to me every night, i replay it in my head over and over again until i'm touching myself again. the more you hurt me, the more i like you... but... but you kept avoiding me, and i thought you knew how i felt and you were disgusted... and if that was the case... i didn't want to get hurt anymore..." he confesses fully, face buried deep in your neck and you feel your shirt slowly wet with his tears again.
it was silence, absolute, bewilderment from your side. the quiet seems to gnaw at soobin's heart, because he lifts his head up, gaze lowered as he stutters. "iâ i get it if you're disgusted, my feelings are so strangâ"
"soobin, you're a proper, proper masochist, wow." you breathe out. lifting his face up gently with two of your hands. wiping away his tears with your sleeve.
"oh..." he just mouths, mind seemingly blank. confused by how mundane your reaction was.
"wait, so how'd you feel about what we did just then? did you like it?"
"i... didn't like you being angry at me..."
"but what about the feeling? the fingering? the rough treatment?"
he blushes. "i liked the rough treatment." he pauses for a moment. "and you paying attention to me again."
the both of you fall quiet and he crumbles at the scrutiny. you knew soobin was masochistic and that he liked you. this was not new information. shit, you knew this from the beginning. so what changed? why did you freak out and go ballistic? why'd you corner him and demand him to tell you why he avoided you? why'd you force him to endure all that pain?
"i... i was so mean to you today... i... because you kept, looking away from me, and, ignoring my gaze and avoiding me. i thought..." the words fall into noiseless void. burning on the tip of your tongue.
"i thought you didn't like me anymore,"
you admit, shame and humiliation weighing down your heart. for a self-proclaimed smartass, you were sure stupid and dense to your own emotions. when did it start? when did you actually start caring about the loser? maybe the answer was simpler than that, you never felt the feelings creeping up to you, because, in truth, you've always been looking at him. maybe that's why you picked on him so easily, always eyeing for his reaction. shit, what a twisted way your heart works. but damn did you have a lifetime of sins to atone for.
soobin was blinking up at you blearily, clearly confused and oblivious to the conclusion in your head. you pick up his cracked glasses from the ground, gently inserting them behind his ears. (you'll buy him another pair later.)
"you don't hate me?" his voice was weak and hopeful. you scoff.
"you're too easy to bully and pick on. it's the complete opposite idiot. i just have a shitty way to show my feelings, and you're unfortunately the victim." it takes a moment for him to process your words, and his face morphs into a cute kind of shock, he is ecstatic, you can tell by the way his dimples deepen. you really didn't deserve this man or any of the feelings he has, for some reason, god was merciful and sent the perfect masochistic man to slot into your sadistic tendencies.
"but... isn't our relationship weird?" he frowns.
"we crossed that line the moment i fingered you dude." he chuckles at this, caught off guard. and you appreciate the clear ringing of his laughter without any more denial.
"honestly, you picked such a shitty person to crush on. i'm the worst, i like being mean to you. i like humiliating you, i like the feeling of having you grovel at my feet."
his face reddens with each word, hiding his face into your shoulder again. you lean into him, appreciating the silky softness of his hair.
"i don't deserve you. i'm an idiot, it took what? months of sexual tension and emotional buildup for me to realise i actually like you instead of hating you?" you ramble, he snorts.
"but i'll make it up to you, i promise." you can tell he was blushing by the heated tips of his ears. this was nice, him in your lap. he's still a loser, but he's your loser. (gross, you reconsider taking everything back with this one thought.)
"let's get out of here first. screw class, we're gonna graduate anyways, what are the teachers gonna do?"
"and i should wear some pants..." he comments.
"that too."
ââ
â
you do a final check over at soobin, ointment applied and bandaged up. he looks out of place in your fancy bedroom and it makes you snicker. once a loser, forever a loser.
"okay, that's it. does it hurt anywhere else?" you ask, setting down the ointment. he's only injured slightly, it was mostly his bitten lip and some bruises from the rough handling.
he nods and you instantly look at him with concern. "where? where and what hurts?"
he exaggeratedly points at his heart and you scoff, rolling your eyes, trying your hardest not to smile at his antics. "what does the big baby want?"
soobin is pensive and shy at first, he wasn't expecting you to take his dramatics seriously. but soon his lips curl into a cheeky grin. "...cuddles, and kisses." you blush at the idea, grimacing. you stand up and walk away from him towards the bed.
soobin panics at your reaction. "sâsorry! i was being stupid, you don't have to take it seriously, don't leave me!"
"shut up, do you want it or not?" you say, sitting on the edge of the bed. arms stretched out. he grins widely, hurrying up to jump into your arms. you two roll over into the bed as you stretch the blanket to cover your bodies. you admire soobin's joyful expression, stroking his hair.
don't get it wrong, you still think such blatant displays of affection were cringe, and soobin was still a loser. but maybe it was never that deep, and you could definitely see yourself get used to this.
you lean down, your lips connecting with his, he feels so plush and soft underneath you. he's still a masochistic dog definitely, and you still think he's a pervert, but he's also so precious and lovable, there was so many things you could list about him.
you two separate. he seems beyond pleased with himself, burying his face into your neck. "i feel like this is all a dream, and i'm going to wake up."
"don't insult me, dream me could never kiss this well." you roll your eyes. he snickers.
"yeah, you're right. no one else could make me feel this way except real you."
you feel yourself grin, really grin. not out of malice, a grin of genuine satisfaction and joy. you feel your eyelids drooping as soobin drifts to sleep in your arms. if you told younger you that this was how things would turn out with soobin, they probably would've cussed and flipped you out.
oh well. they will come to accept it eventually anyways. this wasn't so bad after all.
end.
ââ
â BONUS SCENE
soobin drools, senses heightened. tied up, gagged, blindfolded and a vibrator pressing at his cock. he wasn't going to last much longer. you were cruel, so fucking cruel. and he had no idea where you even were. did you leave him? how long has it been? minutes? hours? did you leave the room?
he was snapped back to reality by a harsh slap on his thigh. he trembles and sobs, curling into himself. he feels a pressure at the back of his head before the gag loosened up, allowing him to breathe and talk.
"plâplease, can't, can'tâ gon cum, can't hold it in. mercy, please mercy." he cries out, voice broken. he sobs and thrashes around. hoping he can charm his way out of this. he was going to burst any moment and he was going to be punished harshly for disobeying you.
"colour?" you whisper by his ear, making him jump with a whimper.
"gâgreen." he sniffles.
"good boy." you coo, stroking his chest, circling around one of his nipples. he cries, nerves jerking all over the place. "beg for it."
"please..." he begins, swallowing down a sob.
"please fuck me... please give me permission to cumâ iâ i can't last any longerâ hic!"
you interrupt him with a large intrusion in his ass, he almost mewls in both pleasure and pain. "aâah! so big, feeeels good, uhhg feels so good. love you, love you."
you grin cruelly, thrusting into him hard and accurate. the pleasure he was in twists into panic as he realises you hadn't given him permission to cum yet. and if you kept going at this pace, he was surely going to cum before your permission.
"wâwait pleâease let me cum! i've been good, i've been good! please let me cum, i've been so good for you!" he snivels, were you going to be nice or heartless today? the closer he reaches to his climax, the more he frets. grovelling down at you, begging relentlessly for permission. before long, he feels his limit.
"i'm going to oh god i'm going to! i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm so disobedient i'm going to disobey you! i feel itâ hicâ" he cries louder, and just before he climaxes, you press down on his lower stomach, whispering in his ear.
"come for me baby."
with that, his body violently convulses, and his back arches as his mouth opens in a silent scream. cum forces its way out of his painfully hard dick, a guttural groan digs its way out as he empties completely onto the bed.
after his ejaculation, he huffs heavily, whines mixed in with his wheezing. you let him ride out his orgasm, pulling out of him. you untie him and take off the blindfold. kissing him sweetly.
"you did so well, you were so cute soob." you cheekily grin. he smiles tiredly up at you. body sore and thoroughly ruined. he stretches his arms out and you take it as a signal to lift him up into your lap.
he settles into your embrace like it is the most natural thing in the world. giggling into your shoulder. "that was amazing, i love you so much."
"i gueesss i love you." you tease.
"hey!"
you chuckle, kissing his cheek. "just kidding, i love you." soobin whispers a quiet 'i know.'
you two enjoy each other's company for a second, only interrupted by soobin's growling stomach. "greedy." you jab at him with a grin and he pouts.
"i'll get you something to eat at the convenience store." you shake your head, getting up to leave but soobin tugs at your sleeve.
"i'm going to be lonely, take me with you!"
you roll your eyes at his dramatic antics, but oblige anyways.
ââ
â
at the convenience store, you buy a simple bread bun for soobin, your hands warming up in your pockets as he enjoys his snack. it was a cold winter, and you wanted to return back to your apartment as soon as possible.
"yo!"
a vaguely familiar voice calls out, you turn around to be met with a recognizable face, a gasp on your lipsâ
"holy shit, kiwoo! i haven't seen you since graduation." soobin vaguely identify the man as one of your old high school friends.
"it's been quite a few years, hasn't it," he chuckles, though confusion was evident in his eyes as he recognises soobin.
"soobin? what are you doing here?" he pauses, glancing between you, and then soobin, and then you. like the gears of a clock slowly turning.
"you guys are still friends?" he asks.
you and soobin exchange a look. "not really." you chuckle.
he tilts his head and you dutifully wrap an arm around soobin's waist. a cheeky grin on your face as you show off the glinting gem on your finger.
"he's my fiance, obviously."
â
â
â
end â
â
â
an: i hope you guys enjoyed the fic and the ending!!! it took a lot of contemplating on how i was going to end this highly anticipated series... i do have a lot of inbox asks for alternative realities and spin-offs, so i will probably work on them next!!! also so sorry for disappearing for like multiple months... i had been so busy with life help!!!
anyways... reshares and comments are always appreciated! please do let me know how you felt about the fic....
#fic â#sub idol#sub!soobin#sub soobin#txt#choi soobin#choi soobin x reader#soobin x gn reader#soobin fluff#soobin x reader#soobin smut#soobin hard thoughts#soobin hard hours#sub soobin x dom reader#sub soobin x reader#txt x reader#txt smut#sub txt#sub!idol#kpop x y/n#kpop x reader#kpop x male reader#kpop hard hours#kpop hard thoughts#soobin x male reader#soobin x y/n#soobin x you#kpop x you#dom!reader#dom reader x soobin
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doll parts.
(coriolanus snow x bella baxter!reader)
summary: having been brought back to live recently, you seemed to have lost your memories and still had a lot to re-learn. with that being said, you were personally intrigued by whatever 'fucking' is. luckily, coriolanus knew exactly how to teach you.
based on this ask.
c.w: horror (based in frankenstein and poor things), smut, coriolanus snow, nymphomaniac behavior (on the part of reader), spitting, p in v, porn with plot, rough sex, slapping (m. recieving), overstimulation, angry sex, squirting, edging, creampie, unproctected sex, innocent reader, naĂŻve behavior, dumbification. casca highbottom is mentioned but he's not the main focus, 'virginity' loss, there's gonna be a lot of 'of course's" here
with the shocks of the electricity running through your new brain, you had opened your eyes to the sight of casca highbottom, a scientist who wanted to prove the point that he could bring people back to life.
of course, playing god wasn't exactly allowed, but what does corruption doesn't do?
with a white curly lock in your lustrous hair being something new to your forgotten appearance, you stared at the man in front of you, whom claimed to be your father. and of course he wasn't. he wanted to prove a point; this point being that he could create the perfect woman and shape her into the submissive obedient element you were supposed to become.
you didn't like that idea, and on the first minute he looked somewhere other than you when he brought you to see the outside world, you ran away, wanting to learn whatever you had to learn without the chains that casca highbottom had you in.
it didn't took long for you to come across coriolanus snow, a renowed academy student who was always against highbottom's experiments in dead people and animals. and he was so gentle to you, probably because of your doe heterochromatic eyes (another result of highbottom's tests on your previously dead body), or probably because of your innocent smile and the way your experience with the dead of living beings was killing mosquitoes and butterflies, saying that "there is no meaning for me to let this thing live if it annoys me."
of course, he took that out of your head with the argument that "then, if i, someday end up annoying you, would you kill me?" and you seemed to thought for a long while (that was his concern and the moment he gulped down), shaking your head, but saying "if you gave me anything other than kisses and books and shelter, i would." and he laughed at the way you said that, your eyes almost jumping out of your skull, always so sickeningly wide. you were so naĂŻve, he truly wanted to open your kull, unspool your brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down whatever it was that passed through your head.
he would never do it, though. not when you looked so pretty when swallowing his spit on that same night, licking your lips after a kiss.
then, in the day before, sitting on the couch on his studies, you looked at the page of the book you were leavmfing through, you saw an image of a woman and a man's silhouette. taking advantage of the few things highbottom teached you, you read outloud:
"mis...sio...neh...ry" of course, you still had a lot of difficulty reading, but nothing that could cause harm, coriolanus still tried his best to teach you how to read. he was always so... kind. you wanted to eat him up. but pretty things sometimes are accessories that can't go into your stomach, and that's what coriolanus told you when you tried eating a ladybug, claiming she was too cute for you not to eat it. "coryo,"
"yes, doll?" he asked, reading the papers he had on his hands.
"what is missionary sex?" that caught him off guard.
so now, after explaining how it worked and why it existed, the platinum blonde man finished by saying it could bring pleasure to your body, but it was mainly used for reproduction purposes.
you didn't really care about that last part, the second you heard him talking about 'pleasure', you immediatly got up, almost abruptly walking to him, your bare feet stepping on whatever it had on the ground, the skirt of your dress, that he got used to seeing you without, the shows you were supposed to wear to an early party that you never put on, his jacket, some papers, and finally, you were in front of him.
"i wanna do it," you voiced, taking the papers out of his hand "i wanna do it with you." and "i wanna have missionary with you." you said, eyes wide open to stare at him, you almost never blinkedat all.
"it's sex, doll. missionary is just a position." he said, laughing. though the thought of you riding him made his dick throb.
"position?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "then there's more?" he nodded to you.
"there are much more positions on the kamasutra than pages on the bible." he said, and you smiled happily, your teeth showing up as well as your voice echoed:
"show me." you said "sex me- fuck, is fucking, right? fuck me. in the positions of the kamasutra." you said.
and god, he was so happy to take you by the waist, kiss you and lead your leg to wrap around his waist.
it didn't took many minutes for you to be without your bloomers, your panties put aside for him to grind his cock on your cunt, teasing you, and you didn't knew, but you felt like you were soaked up in something sticky- your wetness. "t-that's not missionary," you moaned, bucking your hips back at his teasing moves.
"you're right," he answered, groaning as he kissed your frowning face. "that's the clasp position, doll." with his hands on your waist, and yours on his shoulders, he finally penetrated you, earning a long moan out of your mouth.
you weren't a virgin, though you didn't know that, you used to have a husband on your previous life before you died, but you were never satisfied and you have never been- not until he slowly thrusted inside your pussy, making you feel every inch of his dick inside you.
"fuck!" you cried, a cry without tears as you undid the buttons of his shirt.
"what is it?" he asked, a moan leaving his throat as you ripped the shirt and bite his neck, too impatient to unbutton all of the buttons that were prohibiting you from seeing his body.
"i wanna see you," you moaned, slowly bucking your hips back, mouth agape as you let a rude moan leave your head "i wanna see your body."
he chuckled at your words, his hands still holding your body to keep you still as he fucked you. however, it wasn't bad, but you wanted to see how it would feel if it was fast.
"f-faster, please. just wanna see- s-see how it feels." you pleaded, your eyesight blurry as you looked down, seeing how your bare pussy took him in so well, almost devouring him into you.
he promptly obeyed you, going faster and deeper, a moan leaving your throat as his skin slapped against yours. and to see you squirming under him felt like heaven- a sight that no one but him could capture.
even when your walls squeezed his cock and you came around him, your pussy gushing around him, your stamina was still higher than his, which led to you edging him, not letting him cum until you felt so tired that you'd be passed out by his side.
which didn't happen for a long time. for at least six rounds, you were still edging him, slapping him every time he was ready to cum. you didn't allow it.
and by now, you were riding him non-stop, your eyes shut closed as you yourself abused your cunt on his cock, who throbbed painfully and made him throw his head back when he finally cummed inside you, stuffing you rope after rope.
"hey!" you called out slapping his chest, as he still gripped his nails on your skin, marking small crescent moon phases on your skin. he looked at you with an angry frown. "i don't wanna stop just now! i want more!" you said, not caring about his growling state, you thought it looked cute on him.
"god, you're terrible." he grunted, changing positions. "just this one more time and it's over." you nodded, agreeing with him as he finally slapped your clit, making you mewl and squirm under him. "see? you're too sensible, if we keep going," he thrusted "you're gonna have a difficult time walking straight."
"i can always dance." you said, legs spread to let him pound into you. he chuckled, slapping your thigh.
"let's see." he kissed you with a slight open mouth, his tongue battling with yours as he thrusted into you, letting you be a pillow princess for once in the day as you scarred his back with your nails, his pace was quicker than before, probably quicker than yours, and it made you melt entirely, your breathing became heavy and rapid.
when he pinched your clit, you felt strangely dumber, moaning into the kiss that was soon broke apart.
he spit into your mouth, his eyes boring into yours. "swallow it." and you did, crying from the pleasure as he rubbed your clit. "good girl, doll." he smiled.
"d-don't stop, coryo, please. just a bit more and i'll cum- i-i promise i'll let you rest after!" you mewled, squirming as he pound into you.
"hm, i don't know, doll. when i said i wanted to cum you didn't really allowed me to. why should i allow you?" he asked, pecking your temple.
"please. please! i can't hold it in!" you said, your boobs bouncing into the corset you were still wearing. he got rid of it in the blink of an eye, and you didn't even noticed where it had gone, too focused on the pleasure in between your legs as you cried.
he smiled to the view of your body. of course there was a bunch of scars there and there that were already healed, specially the one that connected your neck, but it didn't really mattered to his dick, neither to him. he loved just how doe eyed you were, how dumbly you asked about things and how you didn't questioned him more than once about something, like now.
"i-i'm sorry, i-i just wanted more. i didn't thought about your pleasure- s-sorry, please, let me cum! pleease!!"
"hm. no" he said, grabbing your ass and kissing your temple oh so kindly as he fucked you raw. "let's see how long you will last since you were so hungry for it."
and you didn't last much, just likenhe thought. the more you concentreated on the feeling of his dick on your cunt and the way his balls slapped against your ass, the closer you were to cumming again, and you did just after he came inside you again, smiling dumbly at him as you squirt on his cock, too sensitive from your previous orgasms.
"i'm sorry, coryo" you said, still teary eyed as you hugged him, hand pawing at his chest.
"for?" he frowned, he had already pulled his trousers up, guarding his dick into the fabric.
"f...for edging you, 'm sorry." you said, sleepy and pouty. he chuckled.
"it's okay," he said, caressing your head "at least you said sorry."
and you slept the most comfortable sleep of your post-mortem life, even drooling a bit on his chest, but he loved you just too much to do something about your innocent, naĂŻve nature other than love and cherish it.
#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes#young president snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#tbosas smut#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#x reader#bella baxter#poor things fic#bella baxter reader#coriolanus smut#18+ mdni#mdni#smut#frankenstein#send asks#anon ask
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