#Free Games Coin & Skin

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

71 / 2.1k / part 4 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

nsfw; dubcon, group sex, predator/prey dynamics, degradation, manhandling, sex while on substances. also monsterfucking and sex pollen if you squint.

...

You're not stupid. You know fur won't save you. Their hunt is sweeter for prey that changes skin.

You'll pay for this. And they intend to make you pay in more than just blood--they want your fear, your pleasure, your vulnerability. Everything you've refused them until now.

You run until you reach the ancient chapel in the middle of the woods. Right as you reach the empty space where the front doors used to be, enormous paws slam into your back. The henbane's power ebbs. Your palm bleeds where glass shards remain embedded. The cracked stone steps, laced with overgrown brambles, press cold on your naked skin. Gaz's paws dig into your back as they shift into clawed fingers. You hear Soap's approach, too--the way he shifts halfway from crow to human as he lands behind you. The half-beast shape sharpens the look of starvation and lust in his bright eyes.

Gaz's claws dig into your shoulders as he flips you onto your back. You writhe as Soap's hands close around your legs and pull you between him and Gaz. Your body is human, but adrenaline and henbane trap your mind partway between animal instinct and human nerves. Your body is hot and your cunt swells and glistens as their rough hands grip you, squeeze you, drag you away from the entrance of the holy sanctuary, and spread you open over the forest floor. The chapel's crumbling walls loom over you, moonlight slicing through broken stained glass to paint your naked skin in fractured colors. You were so close.

Soap's claws carve crescent moons into your hips. "Think you're clever, aye?" His hand wraps around your throat and presses his thumb to your frantic pulse. "Playin' games with us."

Gaz pins your wrists above your head, his catlike pupils blown wide. Henbane still clouds his movements. He watches Soap spread your thighs. "She's dripping for it. Nothing better than a chase to make rabbits want to fuck."

Soap licks a stripe up your thigh and chuckles against your skin. "Knew you wanted to be caught. Should've stayed a rabbit. Och, but this is better," he groans against your skin, cock already pressing against your leg. "Fightin' us even when you're fucked raw on poison. Perfect."

The henbane twists everything--their snarls into hymns, the pain of being chased and held down into a perverse sacrament. With Gaz holding your wrists above your head and Soap holding your thighs apart, you're completely exposed. Your heartbeat makes your skin warm, makes it flush, and you know they can see how wet it makes you. Both sets of eyes are glued to your cunt.

You buck uselessly as your human pride compels you to fight. Then rabbit-like instincts compel you to lay still. Your throat is ragged from the chase.

Soap laughs. He splays his hand over your lower belly, pins you there, and leans mouthwateringly close to your cunt. From above your head, Gaz leans over you upside-down and drags a messy, open-mouthed kiss up your sternum. "Poor creature."

"Should've known she'd like this. Witch with a martyr complex. Gets off on being punished."

"Could've let the villagers take you," Gaz croons. "Would've paid good coin to watch 'em try to torture our witch. Bet you'd rut against their stakes just to feel something."

You feel Soap's breathy chuckle against your core and jerk. He holds you fast. "Could've just tied her spreadeagle to the old tree, aye? Let the whole village watch us fuck her. Ghost can have first go."

"Now that's just cruel."

Their cruel words braid into praise in your henbane-fogged mind. Soap licks a hot stripe through your folds, and your back arches against your will. He chuckles again, breath fogging your wetness. "Think she'll come on my tongue before Price gets here? Five silver coins says she screams."

Gaz's free hand pulls your head back to expose your throat. "Ten says she bites like a hare."

You writhe, but Gaz's grip is iron. Soap's mouth seals over your clit and sucks hard enough to blur your vision. Your thighs tremble. The pleasure is a serrated knife sawing through your weak resistance.

"Fuckin' starved," Soap growls against your cunt. His fingers spread you wider to lap harder at your clenching hole.

They move in tandem. Soap's tongue fucks into you, long and relentless, while Gaz’s hand angles your face toward himself. Gaz laps at your mouth and the beads of sweat saturating your skin to take his fill. As Soap's claws dig into your hips, your body betrays you over and over--arching into their mouths, cunt and throat clenching around nothing. You writhe, but Soap pins you harder and harder with each lathe, grinding you against the moss until your thighs shake. The henbane amplifies every sensation--the drag of his tongue, the scrape of Gaz's stubble against your neck, the damp earth beneath you. Every rough touch ignites nerve endings you didn't know you had. Your vision blurs at the edges. Rabbit instincts scream for you to submit even as your hips lift greedily for more.

Gaz releases your hair to palm your breast. "Slow down, Soap. Price'll skin us if we don't leave some fresh."

Soap's obscene groans vibrate through your core. He pulls back, lips glistening. "Better get here faster if he wants some, then. Him and Ghost both."

You moan at the loss of contact. Your hips chase his mouth, and his self-restraint snaps.

"Nah, fuck 'em." He flips you onto your stomach, yanks your hips up, and pushes a finger inside you eagerly. Anything to get you wetter. "Let 'em hunt for themselves."

You're so high and dizzy, cheek pressed to the broken stone below, that it takes you a few seconds to notice when Gaz runs his hands up your arms, over your shoulders, and cups your jaw in his hands.

"Beg," he says softly. "Beg your servants to fuck you."

You whine as he lifts your front half up to kiss you. He practically cradles you in his arms--protective, but completely unyielding--and slips his tongue into your mouth to devour all he can.

You squirm and gasp around his tongue. The command surprises you enough that your humanity--your pride as a witch--surface over the instinct to submit. You sink your canines down on his invading tongue.

Gaz pulls back with a hiss. His eyes narrow and his pupils slit.

Soap laughs. "That's ten to you, then. Rabbits do bite, don't they?"

Gaz ignores him. His grip tightens around your jaw. He takes your mouth in another searing kiss that lasts until your lungs burn and you taste his blood in the back of your throat. He holds you captive there and enjoys the way Soap's finger-fucking forces your desperate moans into his mouth. Then he pulls back.

"Good rabbits," he growls, "know when to play dead."

Gaz's hand fists in your hair and yanks your head back. It forces a deeper arch into your back just as Soap slips a second finger into your cunt. You clench around the inclusion. God, it feels to good. You've been so careful, looked over your shoulder, smudged sage into every dark corner. So much tension, protecting yourself the way you need to, and nowhere to channel it. Even lying awake at night in your house, gritting your teeth and thumbing tight circles around your own clit, the release wasn't enough. Wasn't even practical. The animal in you never left; it only slept.

Soap's fingers curl inside you, calluses scraping your walls. He chuckles. "Greedy."

Gaz chuckles, too, at the sounds you're making. "Chatty."

Your back arches further as Soap adds a third finger. He stretches you ruthlessly. Gaz's other hand drifts down to circle your clit, fingers pressing hard enough to make your thighs twitch and shake.

"Look at her," Soap rasps. "Fightin' for more. Fuckin' made for this."

Ghost's howl rolls through the trees. A warped distortion of an owl's screech calls back in response.

"Price is coming," Gaz says.

Soap withdraws his fingers with a lewd schlick. He drags you upright and presses his chest against your back. "Better get our fill first, then."

Gaz spreads your legs wide. "Hold her open."

Soap grips your thighs as Gaz lines himself up. His cock drags through your slick--teasing at first, and then slow and rough with sudden hunger. You can't remember how to form words. Just as well--if you spoke, you'd only beg him to take you. So much for pride.

Then Price's shadow falls across all three of you. He descends from the trees as something resembling a screech owl--but larger, older, something that blurs your vision at the eddges with instinctive fear. But by the time he lands atop the leaf litter, his talons have already morphed into boots, and his enormous wingspan is gone.

"Having fun, boys?" Price's voice is venomously calm. "While I track our wayward witch through three miles of cursed thicket?"

Soap doesn't lift his eyes from his new view down your body. "Just securing the kill, Cap'n. Didn't you hear our signal?"

A lie. "Move."

Soap sighs and wipes his glistening chin. "That's five more coin."

He pulls away, but before he can withdraw--if he intended to at all, still eying you with hunger--Ghost is there. He grabs Soap by the neck and hurls him away as easily as a sack of cats. Soap skids across the moss, leaving furrows in the earth.

Ghost doesn't pause to see him react. He pins your hips down with a hand the size of your face. Gaz watches from above you with careful eyes as Ghost's claws divot your skin as he leans down. Gaz glances at Price, but wisely does not stand in the way.

Soap straightens up casually. "She's high as fuck on henbane, LT. Go easy."

The divots under Ghost's claws deepen. "No."

He replaces Soap's mouth with his own. The difference is immediate. Brutal. Where Soap languished, Ghost devours. His tongue spears into you, thick and unrelenting, fucking and scooping into your cunt with the same merciless rhythm a wolf would use to feed. You choke on a sob, heels digging into the loam.

Price's hand fists in Ghost's hair and yanks his head back. "Enough. She's not some tavern whore to be ruined before the main event."

Ghost licks your slick from his lips, gaze burning into yours. "Could be."

"Later." Price steps over you, boot between your splayed thighs. "Up. Now."

They haul you upright. Your legs buckle. Gaz catches you and bands his arm around your waist. You try to stand, leaning into him, but you're struggling to remember how. The sudden movement blurs your vision and your body aches from the chase and from the torment of pleasure still thrumming through your muscles.

The threshold of the church--holy ground--looms so close, still. Then, to your shock, Price crosses over that threshold. Right into the old hallowed church.

Your breath hitches. "How--?"

The chapel gives an echoing groan. "Sacrilege," Price mutters. He glances up at the half-collapsed rafters. "Good."

He turns, backlit by moonlight pouring through the broken windows. His shadow stretches long and strange across the altar. "You really thought a pile of crumbling stones could keep us out?" He taps the tattoo on his inner forearm--your mark, seared into his flesh the night you bound them. "We go where you go, darling. Even into God's own house."

Gaz's hand slides up your ribs and plucks at your nipple. "You're ours down to the marrow, love. Nowhere holy enough to change that. But we admire the effort. Running, hiding, getting us good and hungry." His too-sharp teeth graze the shell of your ear.

He pulls your head sideways to expose the scarred sigil behind your own ear. The one you branded there the night you summoned them.

Price unbuttons his coat. "You bound us. Fed us. Let our filth seep into your bones." His belt buckle clinks open. "Now you'll take your communion. Ghost," he commands. "The altar. Bind her."

Ghost pulls you out of Gaz's arms. Your fuzzy, drug-addled brain struggles to keep pace. Then the cold bite of iron shackles snaps shut around your wrists, chaining you to the marble surface of the altar. Ancient restraints meant for darker rites.

Soap whistles low. "Harsh even for you, LT."

Ghost stands. "Witch needs to learn her place isn't in the dirt." His boot nudges your spread thighs wider. "It's on her back."

...

← part 3 / [part 4] / part 5 ➡

more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[thanoskin]

JEALOUS

———

Pairing: Thanos x Fem!Reader

Summary: you tried making Thanos jealous by teaming up with Myung-gi during one of the games, he punishes you during lights out.

P-link <3

Warnings: minors DNI (18+), punishment, rough sex, dom! Thanos, sub! Reader, fingering, intercourse, slapping, breeding, Thanos is mean, unprotected sex, let me know if I missed anything.

———

The masked guards stood rigid, their red jumpsuits stark against the sterile white walls of the large room.

Thanos stood among the players, he seemed jittery and in his own world. His lover, y/n was beside him, her hand brushing against his arm in quiet reassurance, but he pulled away, annoyed and tense.

“You’ll stay with me this time,” Thanos muttered, it wasn’t a request.

TEAM GAME. SELECT A PARTNER.

Chaos erupted instantly. The players lunged for allies, shouting names, marking desperate bargains. Y/N’s heartbeat quickened as she glanced at Thanos, knowing he expected her to fall in line beside him like a fan, like she usually did. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Myung-gi.

The loan stark stood a few feet away, his sharp gaze scanning the room, his eyes on Jun-hee, the pregnant girl, or the “skank” as Nam-gyu called her. He was hoping she’d pick him, but she was teaming with Dae-ho, leaving Myung-gi stranded.

Myung-gi and Thanos weren’t getting along here after the coin scandal, they despised eachother and have been at each others throats since they got here.

A reckless idea sparked y/n’s mind. If she wanted to get under Thanos’ skin this was the way to do it.

She turned abruptly and strode towards Myung-gi. “You need a partner?”

His brow lifted in surprise, a hesitation. “Aren’t you Thanos’ girl, he’d kill me if I..”

Y/n heard Thanos’ calls behind her and glanced over her shoulder, Nam-gyu had his arm draped around him and Thanos started at her with anger.

Good.

“I’ll take my chances.”

AFTER THE GAME

That night, after the lights dimmed and most of the players asleep, y/n could feel the shadow looming over her before she even turned around.

He flipped her onto her back and pinned her arms above her head with a massive hand before she could react.

“You think you’re clever?” Thanos voice was deceptively calm, but there was an edge to it, a warning, and his hands tightened painfully on her wrists.

Y/n met his gaze, defiant. “It was just a game.”

His grip tightened, making her breath hitch. “You chose him.”

“You still had Nam-gyu,” she whined, squirming under him.

Thanos’ expression darkened, “I had no other choice.”

To her surprise, he loosened his grip on her wrists and placed his free hand on her waist. “You enjoy making me jealous, don’t you?” His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against her hip, his touch teasing and possessive.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, tilting her chin up. “You get all broody and it’s kind of cute.”

Thanos hummed, his cross chain dangling in her face as he squeezed her hip hard. “Cute?” He mused. “That’s not the word I’d use for what’s about to happen.”

Without warning, he tossed her over his lap and she kicked. “Thanos!” She whined.

Thanos ignored her pleas and began to take off her pants and panties, leaving her in nothing but her oversized sweater.

He flipped her over onto her back and grabbed her hair, hard, forcing her head back to meet his hungry gaze. He brought his hand to her soaked folds.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

He delivered a firm slap to her clit, causing her to gasp and close her legs.

He tutted, shaking his head as he spread her legs wide, pushing them up to her chest.

“Keep them open, or it’ll be worse for you.

He slapped her clit again and she cried out, but kept her legs open. He hummed in approval, rubbing her clit hard and fast.

She moaned and whimpered, arching her back and struggling keep her legs open. He paused to open her legs again. “Don’t make me have to stop again.”

He resumed his relentless assault on her clit, rubbing merciless circles on your ball of nerves. Y/n moaned and cried, grasping onto his shirt. He chuckled down at her, and he finally stopped after what seemed like forever.

He stood up and took his pants and boxers down, before grabbing her ankles and yanking her to him, spreading her legs wide.

“ If you want to act like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.”

he aligned himself at her entrance without warning and slammed in, hard.

Y/n moaned loud and gripped the sheets. Thanos pumped his hips urgently, grabbing her legs for support, each thrust hitting that delicious spot inside of her.

The bed creaked rhythmically under his vigorous movements. “So fucking tight.”

Y/n’s cries only spurred him on further as he slapped her tits and face, before using her legs as leverage to slam into her even harder.

“This is what you wanted huh?” He moaned and gasped as he pounded into her relentlessly

Y/n could only whine in reply. “Im gonna cum!”

He groaned in reply, gripping her thighs hard enough to leave bruises. “come on, tighten around my cock.”

Y/n came, hard, spilling all over his cock and the sheets below her. He groaned as he came inside of her, not allowing her to close her shaking legs. He immediately bent over and kissed her face and forehead, mumbling praises and how much he loves her.

In the quiet that followed, she understood, she wouldn’t dare tease him like that again.

———

[elryuse]

ANTHEM pt.5

MULTIPLE FEMALE IDOLS X MALE READER

Tags : Harem, Sedcution, Kissing, Public Sex, Multiple Female Love Interest

Words : 4, 197 Words

For The Other Parts Of My ANTHEM Series, Please Kindly Check Over Here

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Y/n’s room, casting soft stripes of light across his face. He groaned softly, stretching his arms above his head as he woke up to another day in the whirlwind that was ANTHEM. The events of the previous night with Yujin still lingered in his mind, the memory of her laughter under the shower spray fresh and vivid. But before he could dwell on it too long, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

He reached for it, squinting at the screen. A text from Chaewon lit up the display:

“Oppa, good morning! Are you free today? I need your help with something…please don’t say no~ 🥺”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. Chaewon had been acting… different lately. She’d always been cheeky and playful, but recently, she’d been leaning into him more during practice, finding excuses to touch his arm or steal glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t deny there was something magnetic about her—her sharp wit, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him, the way she seemed to know exactly how to get under his skin. But after everything with Karina, Wonyoung, and Yujin, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for… whatever this was.

Still, he typed out a reply: “Sure, what do you need?”

Her response came almost instantly: “I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes. Wear something casual but not too casual. Oh, and bring your mask!”

Thirty minutes later, Y/n stood outside their dorm building, dressed in a simple hoodie and jeans, his mask already in place. A black SUV pulled up, and Chaewon leaned out the window, grinning mischievously. “Get in, oppa!”

As soon as he slid into the passenger seat, Chaewon handed him a pair of sunglasses. “Here, put these on too. We can’t have anyone recognizing us, right?”

“Where are we even going?” Y/n asked, adjusting the glasses on his face.

“It’s a surprise,” she said, her voice sing-song as she pulled away from the curb. “Relax, oppa. Don’t be so serious all the time.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, Chaewon occasionally humming along to the radio. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly stylish she looked, even in her paparazzi-proof outfit of an oversized sweater, leggings, and sneakers. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, with a few strands framing her face. She caught him looking and smirked. “See something you like?”

“Just wondering why you’re being so secretive,” he deflected, though his cheeks warmed under her teasing gaze.

Finally, they arrived at their destination: a small, brightly lit arcade tucked away in a quieter part of the city. The neon lights flashed against the windows, inviting them inside. Chaewon practically bounced out of the car, grabbing his hand as soon as he stepped out. “Come on, let’s go!”

Inside, the arcade was bustling with energy—the sounds of blaring game music, the clatter of tokens dropping into machines, and the excited shouts of players filled the air. Chaewon led him straight to the photobooth in the corner, its curtains slightly tattered but still colorful. “Let’s take some pictures!” she declared, already digging out a few coins.

“Chaewon, seriously?” Y/n laughed, shaking his head. “You dragged me all the way here for this?”

“Yes, seriously,” she replied, tugging him inside the booth. The space was tight, their bodies pressed together as she closed the curtain behind them. The screen flickered to life, displaying a countdown for the first photo.

Chaewon turned to him, her expression suddenly softer, more serious than he’d ever seen it. “Oppa,” she began, her voice low and quiet, “do you really not know why I wanted to come here with you?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “Uh… because you like arcades?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile playing on her lips. “No, dummy. Because I wanted to spend time alone with you. Just you and me.”

Before he could respond, the photobooth’s camera snapped the first picture. Chaewon quickly leaned in closer, her fingers brushing against his arm as she tilted her head toward him. The second flash went off. Y/n’s heart began to race, his breath hitching as she looked up at him through her lashes. “Chaewon…”

“Shh,” she whispered, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek. “Stop thinking so much, oppa. Just… feel.”

And then she kissed him.

It started soft, tentative—just the briefest brush of her lips against his. But when Y/n didn’t pull away, Chaewon deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed closer. The world outside the photobooth faded away, leaving only the two of them and the sound of their mingled breaths. Y/n’s hands found her waist, pulling her tightly against him as he responded with equal fervor.

The camera flashed again, capturing the moment as Chaewon broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Y/n stared at her, dazed, his mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. “Chaewon, I—”

The camera flashed one final time, freezing the image of her grinning triumphantly before she pulled him back into another kiss. This time, it was fiercer, hungrier, her nails digging lightly into his shoulders as she poured every ounce of her pent-up feelings into it. Y/n groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping under her sweater to trace the curve of her spine.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their faces flushed. Chaewon rested her forehead against his, her voice barely audible over the hum of the arcade outside. “So… did you like my surprise?”

Y/n chuckled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Yeah, I liked it. A lot.”

“Good,” she said, her grin widening. “Because there’s more where that came from.”

Chaewon’s lips lingered close to his, her breath warm against his skin as she whispered, “So… what do you think about us? About this?” Her eyes searched his, a mix of playfulness and vulnerability flickering in their depths.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding. The air between them felt electric, charged with something unspoken but undeniable. He could still feel the ghost of her touch under his sweater, the warmth of her body pressed against his. “I think…” he started, voice low, “it’s complicated. You know that, right? With everything going on in the group…”

She tilted her head, her fingers trailing lightly down his arm until they interlaced with his. “Complicated doesn’t mean impossible,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. “And I don’t care about complications if it means getting to have this. To have you.” There was a weight to her words, a sincerity that made Y/n’s chest tighten.

He swallowed hard, his mind racing. Karina’s confession, Wonyoung’s teasing, Yujin’s boldness—now Chaewon was laying her feelings bare. It felt like the walls were closing in, the web of emotions growing more entangled by the day. But with Chaewon staring at him like that, her lips slightly parted and her cheeks flushed from the intensity of their kiss, it was hard to focus on anything else.

“Chaewon,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand. “You know this isn’t just about us. The group… we can’t risk—”

She interrupted him with a shake of her head, her hair brushing against his cheek. “Stop thinking so much,” she said, her voice firm but tender. “For once, just let yourself feel. We’ve been dancing around this for weeks—maybe longer. Don’t you think it’s time we stopped pretending?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. She was right, wasn’t she? Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every playful tease—they had all been building toward this. And now, with her standing so close, her body pressed against his, it was impossible to deny the pull between them.

“Okay,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “What do you want, Chaewon?”

A slow smile spread across her face, her eyes gleaming with something mischievous. “I want you to stop overthinking and kiss me again,” she said, her tone light but laced with desire.

Before he could respond, she leaned in, capturing his lips with hers. This kiss was different from the ones before—slower, deeper, more deliberate. Her hands slid up his chest, curling around the back of his neck as she pulled him closer. Y/n’s hands instinctively found her waist, gripping her tightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against hers.

The world outside the photobooth faded away, leaving only the two of them and the heat building between them. When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.

“That’s what I want,” Chaewon whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I want us to explore this. To see where it could go. I don’t care about the others right now. I just… I care about you.”

Y/n’s heart clenched at her words. He wanted to say something—anything—to reassure her, to tell her he felt the same way. But before he could, she stepped back slightly, her hands sliding down to grip his.

“But I need you to be honest with me,” she continued, her gaze steady. “If this is too much, if you’re not ready… I’ll understand. But don’t keep me hanging, Y/n. Don’t make me guess.”

He squeezed her hands, his mind racing. How could he explain the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling? The guilt, the desire, the fear of what this could mean for the group—and for them?

“It’s not that simple,” he admitted, his voice rough. “You know that. With Karina, Wonyoung, Yujin… it’s not just about us. It’s about how this affects everyone.”

Chaewon nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I know,” she said softly. “And I’m not asking you to choose. I’m just asking you to give us a chance. To see where this could go. Isn’t that worth it?”

Y/n’s chest tightened at her words. She was giving him an out, a way to step back if he needed to. But as he looked into her eyes, he realized he didn’t want to. He wanted this. He wanted her.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice firm. “It’s worth it.”

A brilliant smile spread across Chaewon’s face, her eyes lighting up with joy. “Good,” she said, her voice full of relief. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Y/n chuckled, pulling her closer. “You really are something else, you know that?”

She grinned, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “You have no idea,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Now, are you going to kiss me again, or do I have to take charge?”

His answer was to lean down and capture her lips once more, pouring every ounce of his pent-up emotions into the kiss. Chaewon responded eagerly, her hands sliding up his shoulders to tangle in his hair. The world outside the photobooth disappeared, leaving only the two of them and the fire burning between them.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their faces flushed. Chaewon rested her forehead against his, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “We should probably get out of here before someone catches us,” she murmured, though there was no urgency in her voice.

Y/n laughed softly, his hands still resting on her hips. “Probably. But I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Who said anything about letting go?” she said, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Meet me in my room tonight. We can continue this… privately.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words, his grip tightening on her waist. “Are you sure?”

She pulled back slightly, her gaze locking with his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she said, her voice steady. “But only if you are.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, the weight of her words settling over him. This wasn’t just about a fleeting moment of passion—this was a decision that could change everything. But as he looked into her eyes, he knew there was no turning back.

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice firm.

Chaewon’s smile widened, and she pressed one last, lingering kiss to his lips before stepping back. “Good,” she said, her voice full of promise. “Tonight, then. Don’t keep me waiting.”

The hallway was dimly lit, the faint hum of fluorescent lights casting long shadows as Chaewon led Y/n by the hand. Her fingers were warm and firm around his, pulling him closer with every step. Their footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor, but neither of them spoke—words felt unnecessary now. The tension between them had been building all day, a slow burn that had finally reached its breaking point.

When they reached her room, Chaewon turned to face him, her eyes dark with desire. She didn’t hesitate, pressing herself against him, her lips capturing his in a hungry kiss. Y/n groaned into her mouth, his hands instinctively finding her waist as he pulled her closer. The taste of her was intoxicating, sweet and sharp like cherry cola, and he couldn’t get enough.

Chaewon broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” before dragging him inside and shutting the door behind them. The room was bathed in soft amber light, the curtains drawn tight, creating an intimate cocoon. Without warning, she pushed him backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed, and he fell onto it, bouncing slightly.

She stood over him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she let out a low, breathy laugh. “You’re so eager,” she teased, her voice dripping with mischief. And then, with deliberate slowness, she began to undress.

First came her jacket, slipping off her shoulders like liquid silk. Then her top, revealing a lace bralette that clung to her curves in all the right places. Y/n’s breath hitched as he watched her, his body already responding to her every move. But she wasn’t done yet. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her skirt, and with a slow, teasing tug, she let it fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her lingerie.

Y/n couldn’t help but stare, taking in every inch of her. Chaewon was beautiful—stunning, really—but there was something about the way she carried herself, the confidence radiating from her, that made her irresistible. She stepped closer, straddling him on the bed, her hands resting on his chest.

“Do you like what you see?” she purred, her voice low and husky.

Y/n nodded, swallowing hard. “More than you know.”

Her lips curved into a sultry smile, and she leaned down, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, “Then don’t hold back.”

That was all the invitation he needed. In one swift motion, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him. The surprise in her eyes only fueled his hunger, and he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming her body as if trying to memorize every curve. She moaned into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders as she arched against him.

Their clothes disappeared in a flurry of movement, discarded carelessly on the floor. When Y/n finally entered her, Chaewon let out a gasp, her head falling back against the pillows as her body shuddered in response. He moved slowly at first, savoring the way she felt beneath him, the way her breathing quickened with every thrust.

But Chaewon wasn’t content to let him set the pace. Her hips bucked against his, urging him to go faster, harder, and he obliged, his own control slipping as the heat between them grew unbearable. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, filling the room with a symphony of pleasure.

“Y/n—” she gasped, her voice breaking as her nails raked down his back. “Don’t stop... please...”

He didn’t. Instead, he shifted his angle slightly, hitting a spot that made her cry out in ecstasy. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in an agegao expression that sent a jolt of primal satisfaction through him. She was completely lost in the moment, consumed by the intensity of their connection.

As her body tightened around him, signaling her climax, Y/n felt his own release building. With one final, powerful thrust, he spilled into her, their shared cries mingling in the air. For a moment, they stayed like that, their bodies pressed together, hearts racing in tandem.

When he finally pulled back, Chaewon looked up at him, her eyes glassy and unfocused, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “Wow,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were sure.”

Y/n chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Neither were you.”

She laughed softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

Before he could respond, she propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze locking with his. There was something unspoken in her eyes, a question or maybe a promise, but before either of them could explore it further, the sound of voices outside the door made them freeze.

Both pairs of eyes darted toward the door, wide with panic. The last thing they needed was someone walking in on them like this. Chaewon quickly grabbed a pillow, covering herself as Y/n scrambled to find his boxers.

But before they could fully recover, the doorknob began to turn.

“Shit,” Chaewon hissed under her breath, her heart pounding. “What do we do?”

Y/n’s mind raced, but before he could come up with a plan, the door creaked open, revealing...

Chaewon’s eyes widened in panic as the door creaked open. Without hesitation, she grabbed Y/n by the arm and yanked him under the covers with her, pulling the blanket up to their chins just as the soft glow of the hallway light spilled into the room.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her lips brushing against his ear. Her breath was warm, sending a shiver down his spine despite the heat pooling between them.

The sound of footsteps followed, slow and deliberate, as whoever had entered lingered near the doorway. Y/n’s heart hammered against his chest, each beat echoing loudly in his ears. He could feel Chaewon’s body pressed tightly against his, her legs tangled with his own, her skin still flushed from their earlier passion. The thin fabric of the blanket did little to hide the warmth radiating between them, but neither dared to move.

“Chaewon?” came a familiar voice—Winter. She sounded tentative, like she wasn’t sure if she should be there. “Are you awake?”

Y/n froze, his eyes locking with Chaewon’s. Her expression was a mix of amusement and mischief, her lips curling into a sly smile despite the situation. She placed a finger over her own lips, silently urging him to stay still, then turned her head slightly toward the door.

“Uh… yeah,” Chaewon called back, her voice surprisingly steady. “What’s up? I was just about to sleep.”

There was a pause, and Y/n could practically hear Winter’s hesitation. His mind raced, trying to figure out how they were going to get out of this without raising suspicion. But Chaewon seemed unfazed, her fingers tracing light patterns on his chest beneath the blanket, her touch both soothing and electrifying.

“I… couldn’t sleep,” Winter admitted finally, her voice softer now. “I thought maybe we could talk or something.”

Chaewon bit her lip, her hand stilling for a moment before she sighed softly. “Sorry, Unnie. I’m really tired tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

Another pause. Y/n could almost picture Winter standing there, her arms crossed, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. He prayed she wouldn’t come closer, wouldn’t notice the faint rise and fall of the blankets or the way Chaewon’s breathing hitched ever so slightly when her fingers brushed against his stomach.

“Alright,” Winter said finally, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Sleep well, then.”

The footsteps retreated, and the door clicked shut, plunging the room back into semi-darkness. For a moment, neither of them moved, listening intently for any sign that Winter might change her mind and return. When it became clear she was gone, Chaewon let out a low laugh, her body relaxing against his.

“That was close,” she murmured, her lips curving into a grin. Her hand resumed its exploration, trailing lower now, and Y/n sucked in a sharp breath. “Too close.”

“You’re insane,” Y/n replied, his voice hushed but laced with disbelief. He could feel the tension coiling in his gut again, threatening to unravel as her fingers danced dangerously close to where he wanted her most. “What if she had seen us?”

Chaewon tilted her head, her gaze locking with his. “She didn’t,” she said simply, as if that settled everything. “And besides…” She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his neck, her words hot against his skin. “Wouldn’t that have been exciting?”

Y/n groaned softly, his hands instinctively finding her waist and pulling her closer. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, though he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “What if someone else comes in?”

“Then we’ll be quiet this time,” Chaewon replied, her tone teasing but her eyes filled with desire. She shifted slightly, straddling him beneath the blanket, her weight pressing deliciously against him. “Unless you want me to stop?”

He didn’t answer—he couldn’t. Instead, his hands slid up her back, pulling her down into a searing kiss. Their lips met with a hunger that sent sparks shooting through him, her tongue parting his as she deepened the kiss. Her hips rolled against his, the friction drawing a low groan from his throat.

“Quiet,” she reminded him, her breath hitching as she rocked against him again. Her movements were slow, deliberate, designed to drive him mad. And it was working. Every brush of her skin against his sent waves of pleasure crashing through him, every gasp and sigh from her lips only fueling his need.

Her hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of him she could reach. She kissed along his jaw, his neck, her teeth grazing his skin in a way that made him shudder. When her lips found his ear, she whispered, “You’re mine tonight,” and the possessiveness in her voice sent a jolt of arousal straight to his core.

Y/n’s hands gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft skin as he held her in place. “Chaewon…” he breathed, his voice strained with need. “We can’t—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, silencing him with another kiss. Her hips moved again, grinding against him in a rhythm that left no room for argument. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

And he did. Every touch, every movement, every whisper of her name against his skin blurred together into a haze of pleasure. The world outside the blanket ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other.

But just as the tension reached its peak, the sound of voices outside the door shattered the moment. Y/n tensed, his eyes darting toward the door as muffled laughter drifted in from the hallway. Chaewon froze above him, her breath coming in shallow puffs as she listened.

“Quick,” she whispered, sliding off him and pulling the blanket up higher. “Underneath me.”

Y/n didn’t argue, shifting so that she was lying on top of him, her body shielding his from view. The door handle turned again, and this time, multiple voices filtered into the room.

“Chaewon? Are you still awake?” It was Karina this time, her tone light and playful.

“We brought snacks!” added Winter, her voice cheerful now.

Chaewon propped herself up on one elbow, doing her best to look sleepy and disheveled. “Can’t you guys leave me alone for one night?” she complained, though her voice lacked any real annoyance.

Karina chuckled, stepping further into the room. “Come on, don’t be such a loner. We haven’t hung out properly in ages.”

Y/n held his breath, praying they wouldn’t notice the slight indent in the mattress where he lay hidden beneath Chaewon. Her hand found his beneath the blanket, squeezing gently in reassurance.

“Fine,” Chaewon sighed dramatically, sinking back down onto Y/n in a way that made him grit his teeth. “But if you wake me up again, I’m kicking you all out.”

The girls laughed, their voices fading as they began to chatter among themselves. Y/n could feel Chaewon’s body shaking slightly with suppressed laughter, her face buried in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear.

Chaewon grinned against his skin. “Maybe a little.” She shifted slightly, her knee brushing against him in a way that made him bite back a groan. “But don’t worry… I’ll make it up to you later.”

Y/n had no doubt she would. But for now, all he could do was lie there, his heart pounding as he waited for the girls to leave—and for Chaewon to make good on her promise…

[sinstear]

if there was one thing that kept her at bay from anything, it would be her arm. she loved and hated that part about herself. loved that it could protect her when needed, but hated that it could hurt someone she loved. sevika wasn’t afraid to use something so powerful to keep away evil, but she would never forgive herself if she accidentally hurt the one she swore to protect. even just holding their face in her hand, sent shivers down her spine and worry through her mind and body.  

you never minded though. in fact, there were times when you’d be sitting with her or near her, that your eyes would travel away from her current card game, down her metal arm, more times than none, and just stare at it. it was beautifully fascinating to you. with or without her knowledge of you just gawking at her. 

sevika did notice one night though, out of the blue, to your surprise, when you were comfortably sitting beside her— drinking from her whiskey glass and watching how she flawlessly yet swiftly dealt her cards. 

it started with her body tensing beside yours, calmy, when you lightly traced patterns on the cool metal, not wanting to push her into anything, just being gentle and cautious with your approach. then it was the way she looked at you from the corner of her eye, seeing you sitting there, looking down at her arm— but you didn’t look scared or worried. not like most people did. you looked interested.

“do you think it’s gonna bite you or something if you state at it any longer?” her voice rang out, raspy and gruff. the cigar hanging loosely between her lips made her look ten times hotter.

“that a challenge?” 

“maybe, maybe not, who knows with you.” 

for the remainder of her games— most of the time she could sit there all day but if she has company, aka you, then she takes time to spend with you before she’s got her usual shit to do, and finally stubbed out her cigar and put all of her attention on you. 

“you’re quiet,” she pointed out, sliding the coins off the table and pushing them into her pocket. “which is unusual, you’re never quiet.”

“gee, thanks,” you glared at her, yet the way your lips quirked up into a smile, made it aware you weren’t really mad. “just thinking.”

“well don’t be too excited to share, what’s wrong?” 

her eyes followed your gaze, and that’s when she quickly noticed you weren’t looking at her anymore, more or so looking at her arm again. “can i hold it?” 

your question was an innocent one, cautious even, but to her, it meant everything. you could tell by the way her eyes shifted away from you nervously, looking at anything but you. “i don’t think that’s a good idea,” she laughed, trying to play it off. “probably shouldn’t.” 

“shouldn’t or don’t want me to?”

“is there a difference?”

she’s looking at you again, too busy focused on what you’re saying to notice the small shift of your hand reaching for her metal one. “who knows with you,” you murmured with a playful smile.

it’s only when she feels you interlock your fingers with hers that she tries to pull away and save you the trouble but you’re faster. just a little, and pressing her hand to your cheek.

“you won’t hurt me.” you reassured. as if you were answering a question her eyes were silently asking, something she couldn’t find herself saying out loud. sevika’s lips part with a gentle sigh when your free hand reaches up and cups her metal hand against your cheek a little firmer, and she clenches her jaw tightly once you’re smiling. “i promise, you won’t hurt me, you can’t.” 

“how do you know i won’t?” she asked, insecurity laced with worry in her voice. 

“because if you wanted to you would have done it when we first met.” you stated, eyebrow raising just slightly when sevika moves her fingers across the apples of your cheek slowly. the coldness of the metal tingling your skin as she moved. “but you haven’t, so.” 

“maybe you just haven’t pissed me off enough yet.” sevika grins, and it’s almost primal in the way she looks at you. 

“yet,” you clicked your tongue with a light chuckle. “there’s still time then.”

your eyes lock with hers as she presses her thumb against your lips, almost like she wasn’t aware of what she was doing, while you mischievously winked. “maybe just a little time,” she murmured and pushed harder.

the cold metal of her fingers brushed against the muscle of your tongue before you knew it and sevika didn’t know whether to moan or growl at the sight of you grinning smugly around her fingers. it wasn’t something she was used to. she’s used to people seeing it, turning the other way and getting away from her.

but here you are, greedily sucking her fingers and having no issues or worries. not caring in the slightest. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” she admitted, in awe of you and watched you closely. “and i think it’s worrying that i’m perfectly okay with that.”

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Saved

Thanos / Choi Su-Bong X M/GN!Reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.004 - Saved]|

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》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

》 Tip: Feel free to support the Archiver |

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》 Summary: Instead of dying to a damn utensil, you were there to save his ass just when things were about to take a turn for the worse on his behalf. |

》 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 6 SEASON 2, Swearing(On the archiver's behalf), Archiver(writer) speaks in between scenes through parentheses, OOC, Blood, Violence, murder/killing, Change of Storyline, Aversion of Story, Mention of Drug Use, MxM but can also be seen as MxGN it's just that reader can go to the men's bathroom, Reader's choice in the voting is unspecified but leans more in the 'X'. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

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As the 3rd game came to a close, all 100 remaining players came into a voting of 50 by 50, making it a tie. It was then told how another voting were to occur the next day, giving the players time to choose their options once more.

As things died down between groups, you were peacefully doing your own thing in the restroom until you suddenly heard a commotion outside the stalls, followed by another voice that you recognized all the while ago.

During your time throughout the 3 games, one particular man stood out, Su-bong, aka the rapper Thanos. Although you've heard of the man before the games, you weren't particularly a fan of him to the point you would clutter him like the others during the start of the 1st game. Despite that, you couldn't help but feel something towards the chaotic and high man.

Going outside your stall, you were greeted to the men split into two groups, one siding the ones who chose 'O' last voting and the other group being the ones who chose 'X'. One of the players in the 'X' went in front of the scared man who was you concluded as the man Thanos was after. Yet it seemed to worsen the situation as the player, numbered 333, was the infamous MG coin, the same man who 'milked'(Archiver doesn't know if this is the right word, but I'm rolling with it) his fans of their money for a crypto coin.

Soon, a fight broke loose within the restroom, and none of the guards came in to stop them. The guy originally Thanos was after had already run off, while Thanos was currently choking player 333.

Not knowing what to do or which side to go or help, you ended up knocking and punching a few who tried swinging their fists at you. You just decided to help the person, to you, you knew the most, and that is Thanos.

As Thanos choked out player 333(Myung-gi, but screw it, he'll become irrelevant in this entry anyways), you noticed the player holding something in his hand. You soon noticed it as a fork, 'Shit,' you thought to yourself. Forks are sharp enough to pierce skin with the right pressure. You immediately screamed towards Thanos, tackling and pushing him off the man.

Thanos looked at you confused and irritated, "What the fuck, man?-" He cursed, you took a deep breath, trying to gauge your perspective at him, "He has a fo-" you were about to say until you felt a sharp pain in your shoulder blade. Turning around, you met the same player lodging the same damn fork in your shoulder. You groaned as he pulled the fork out, wanting to aim at another area in your body.

"Why are you helping him?!" The player screamed, about to plunge the fork again.

About to expect the worst, someone behind him pulled him back and started to punch him again and again. It was Thanos' friend, you presumed as you've recognised the man often beside the purple-haired.

Taking a deep breath, completely forgetting the pain in your shoulder for a moment before exhaling heavily. That's when you heard a voice admists the chaos.

"Hey, hey!" Thanos called out, not knowing what to do other than check the wound. "Tsk, dammit!" He cursed before roughly pulling you up and into one of the closest stalls to the two of you. Locking the stall behind him, he made you sit down on the toilet.

Trying to ignore the pain, you spoke out, "You should've ran out," I wheezed out, taking my jacket off before ripping a piece of my shirt to use as a bandage from the wound. Wrapping the cloth around your shoulder, you noticed that he's just standing right there, not doing anything with his head down at the floor. Not knowing what's on his mind, I continued to wrap the item around.

It was until you had to tie the cloth together to prevent it from coming loose, but with your shaking hands and inability to move area from your shoulder to your arm. Wincing, you still attempted until you felt another pair of hands grabbing over the cloth and tying it for you. You looked up to see Thanos tying the cloth for you, an uncharacteristically focused look on his face, but you couldn't help but gaze at him even further.

At this time, as Thanos finished tying the cloth secure, the fight outside the stall had quieted down. The purple-haired man peeked out to see four players dead, with the others being led out by the pink guards, followed by the announcer announcing the player number of each person who died.

Coming out along with the rest, Thanos kept behind me before muttering a 'Thanks, man', you nodded and continued walking until both of you reached the dormitory.

Thanos came back to his friend after such a situation, and you went into your original bed location until you heard someone scream your player number.

"Hey, ■■■!(You guys choose your number)" Thanos called out, waving his hand up as he looked over to you. He hopped and waved his hand, gesturing you to come over, and you not knowing what to do anymore, you decided and fuck it, join them.

As you approached them, Thanos hopped and swung his arm on you, but you quickly noticed how he was careful about his action and considering your wound.

"Welcome, my friend!" Thanos welcomed you to his friend, "This guy right here, they saved my damn life there!" He announced, shaking me lightly, "It was nothing... Really," you tried to start, averting away from them.

"What do you mean it's nothing?! My life was on the line, man!" Thanos replied, patting your chest as he spoke.

After that, the three of you waited for the next day to come by for the revoting of players. Coincidentally, you couldn't help but notice a shift in Thanos' attitude when he speaks to you alongside how his eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher that isn't his typical high-on-drugs gaze.

As the announcer reminded everyone of the night's out in half an hour, everyone got to their respective beds with you being made to sleep near your now new friends('friends' yeah right).

As you slept on your accord, you didn't notice Thanos on his side, gazing at your sleeping figure. Somehow, a random stranger like you made him feel something other than the high feeling of his 'candies'. Quietly chuckling to himself, he laid back on his back.

Awaiting the next day, little did they know that other players had their own plans for the night rather than sleeping.

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》 Archiver's Notes: Do not mind this as your dear archiver, me, still can't seem to wrap their head around the fact that someone like his character died inside of a damn restroom with a fucking fork.

[darlinluxx]

𝐉𝐄𝐉𝐔 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : mention of death

a/n : takes place after the games and she won them (ofc) bc she deserved to go to jeju island :((

summary : you and your girlfriend go on a vacation to jeju island after she won the games

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he salt spray kissed Saebyeok’s face, a stark constraint to the grime of Seoul she’d left behind. the ferry chugged towards Jeju Island, a green hump on the horizon, and she found her fingers interlaced with yours. after everything — after the games, the death, the money, the nightmares — she still found herself clinging to the tangible, the real. and you were as real as it got.

“you okay?” your voice was soft, a balm to the lingering tension Saebyeok still carried. your hand squeezed hers gently, your thumb tracing circles on Saebyeok’s skin.

Saebyeok nodded, her gaze fixed on the churning water. “just trying to relax.” the words felt foreign on her tongue. relaxing was a luxury she’d never been afforded.

the money had been life-altering, yes. it had moved her brother to a nicer foster home, secured the apartment she dreamt of. but it hadn’t erased the ghosts of the rooms, the faces of those she’d lost. it just meant she could afford to take her and you to Jeju Island for a long overdue break.

you, ever preceptive, didn’t push. you knew Saebyeok’s silence better than anyone. instead, you just leaned your head on Saebyeok’s shoulder, the warmth of her body a comforting presence.

Jeju Island was a sensory overload. the air, thick with the scent of sea and volcanic rock, was cleaner, lighter than Seoul’s concrete jungle. the vibrant green of the canopies clashed beautifully with the deep blue of the ocean. you two rented a small cottage overlooking the coast, far from the tourist traps.

the first few days were spent exploring. the two of you hiked along jagged coastlines, the wind whipping through your hair, and dipped your toes in the cool, clear waters of hidden beaches. Saebyeok, usually reserved and quiet, surprised herself by laughing freely as you chased her with a sand-covered crab. she learned to identify different types of seaweed and collected smooth, black volcanic stones, feeling the weight of them in her palm, a different kind of weight than she was used to.

you two ate incredibly fresh seafood at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the pungent aroma filling the air. you found yourself spending hours sketching the breathtaking landscapes, your fingers flying across the page, capturing the essence of the island with charcoal and watercolors. Saebyeok would watch you, a rare, soft expression on her face, feeling a warmth bloom in her chest that went beyond the Jeju sun.

at night, the two of you would sit on the porch, watching the stars explode across the inky sky. you would tell stories of constellations, of star-crossed lovers and celestial battles, your voice a soft, soothing hum. Saebyeok would listen as you rested your head on her shoulder, the sound of the waves a lullaby in the background.

one particular evening, as the moon hung like a silver coin in the sky, you took Saebyeok’s hand and held it tight. “you know,” you began, your voice hesitant, “i’m glad we’re here. i was worried after everything, if you’d ever…”

Saebyeok turned to look at you, her dark eyes shimmering in the moonlight. “ever what?”

“ever feel safe again,” you whispered, your gaze searching Saebyeok’s face.

Saebyeok closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in. she thought of the cold, sterile prison of the room, the constant fear, the unending struggle. and then she looked at you, at the light in your eyes, the steady hand that held hers.

she finally opened her eyes and said, her voice low and honest, “i do now.”

she didn’t say “because of you.” she didn’t have to. you knew. you saw it in the slight upturn of Saebyeok’s lips, in the way her grip tightened around your hand.

the trip to Jeju Island was more than just a vacation. it was a healing balm for your souls, a chance to breathe, to remember what it felt like to be human again. it wasn’t a cure, the past would always be a part of you two. but here, on this beautiful island, surrounded by the love you shared, you found the space to begin piecing yourselves back together. here, in each other, you found hope. and that, for Saebyeok, was way more precious than any prize money.

[mapofsouthdakota]

The Maze

Synopsis: In a future where war and technology have blurred the line between man and machine, Caleb was resurrected—not as who he was, but as who he was programmed to be. With only 3% of his original self left intact, the latest reboot of his chip has reshaped his logic, his purpose, and his understanding of his emotions towards you.

Bound by his own design, he has built you the Maze—a flawless, shifting sanctuary meant to protect the one person he refuses to lose. But protection and captivity are two sides of the same coin, and inside the Maze, freedom is just another unsolvable puzzle.

Will you escape, or will Stockholm Syndrome take hold before that day?

Details: 2600ish words. Some kind of spin off AU, but corresponds with in-game canons. Obsessive Caleb. Yandere Caleb. Controlling Caleb. Colonel Caleb. Crazy hot Caleb. 18+ due to psychological thriller/drama/angst galore (and a prelude for p0rn with plot, I’m just calling it now tbh lol). You are warned.

Tags: @gavin3469 @mcdepressed290

Chapters: chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight (final chapter)

Disobedience | Chapter one

The Maze, you

The sheets beneath your fingertips are soft, smooth against your skin—yet the coolness of the night still lingers, a stark contrast to the heat of your own body.

For a moment, you just lie there, still. Listening.

The room hums with a faint, steady silence—too perfect, too controlled. There’s no creak of floorboards, no shifting of walls, only the barely-there whisper of circulated air filtering through vents.

A breath. A heartbeat.

Then—

“Morning, sunshine.”

The sound curls through the space, warm, teasing, familiar.

You don’t flinch.

Your hands, hidden beneath your pillow, run over the rough scratches in the headboard.

Ten days.

Ten days in Caleb’s Maze.

Ten days of carefully mapping the shifting corridors, learning the rhythm of the walls.

Ten days of waiting for a single mistake.

You let your thumb press against the newest line, the wood rough beneath your nail. The only thing here that feels imperfect.

Ten lines. Today makes ten.

Your fingers move carefully, hidden beneath your pillow, tracing over the rough scratches in the headboard. The grooves are uneven, worn from repetition.

A habit now. A ritual.

Another inhale. Another second where you are just waking up.

Then, deliberately slow, you stretch—arms reaching high, toes curling, your spine arching briefly before you relax again, exhaling softly. You force yourself to move naturally. To pretend.

“Did you sleep well, Pips?”

His voice is smooth, effortless, the same playful lilt it’s always had. The intercom crackles faintly at the edges, a reminder that he isn’t here.

You push the sheets off, swallowing down the tightness in your throat.

“I’ve had worse,” you murmur.

A low chuckle hums through the room. Soft, unbothered.

“That’s not an answer.”

You don’t give him one.

Instead, you slide out of bed, bare feet meeting cool marble flooring, and head toward the kitchen. It’s pristine, the kind of luxury that feels staged, artificial. Polished marble, deep walnut cabinets, light spilling through windows that show a perfect sky that isn’t real.

You reach for a glass from the overhead rack—thin, cool, smooth against your fingers—before pouring yourself orange juice.

It’s cold when you drink, tangy with just the right bite of citrus.

“The apple juice is fresher.”

You pause mid-drink.

His voice is still warm, too conversational for someone keeping you captive.

“But,” Caleb adds smoothly, “you’re free to choose whatever you please.”

Your jaw tightens. You set the glass down too hard.

“Oh, how generous.”

Silence stretches for a moment, and you swear you hear the faintest flicker of static in the speakers. Like he was about to say something else.

Then—nothing.

You don’t wait for him to continue.

You turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen, heading toward the bathroom.

——————————————————————————

The mirror doesn’t lie.

You brush your teeth, staring at your reflection. Messy hair, sharper eyes. With a slow inhale, you smooth down the wrinkled fabric of your pajamas, then splash cool water onto your face, letting the droplets slide down your jaw. You straighten, gripping the sink for a moment before exhaling.

You look fine. Healthy.

And yet, something invisible coils inside you as you step out of the bathroom. The plush carpet yields softly beneath your bare feet, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile reality of the Maze beyond this space.

The walk-in wardrobe is spacious, curated to perfection, a collection of clothes you never asked for but were chosen with meticulous care. Your fingers trail along the fabrics, skimming over silken dresses, impossibly soft loungewear, intricate embroidery.

Not clothes meant for movement.

Not clothes meant for running.

But today, you dress for yourself.

Your hands move with quiet certainty. A fitted, dark long-sleeve shirt, breathable and weightless against your skin. Black cargo pants with deep pockets, light enough for speed, flexible enough to run.

You don’t rush as you pull the shirt over your head, as you fasten the buttons on your pants.

You don’t care if he’s watching.

Let him.

You glance at your wrist, at the smooth, metallic weight of the watch he gave you—shaped like an apple, polished to perfection. A taunt. A joke only he found amusing. You’d scoffed when he fastened it around your wrist on the first day, smirking like he was doing you a favor. As if time mattered in a place like this. As if knowing the hour would change the fact that every second still belonged to him.

And yet, it had given you something.

You’d started noticing the patterns. The way his voice filtered through the speakers more often at certain times, his presence reduced to an unseen observer rather than the man himself. A shift in routine, a window of opportunity. If he wasn’t here in person, then maybe—just maybe—it was the best time to run.

Your best chance.

You step into the halls.

——————————————————————————

The Fleet, Administrative wing, Caleb

The Maze breathes.

Not in the way a person does—not with lungs or with a heartbeat—but with the constant, seamless shifts of its corridors, the silent recalibration of its pathways, the ever-adapting nature of its design.

It moves because it is meant to.

Because he made it so.

His design.

From his office aboard The Fleet headquarters, Caleb watches.

Multiple screens flicker in front of him, displaying live feeds from the Maze’s surveillance systems. Some show stark, metallic corridors bathed in cold fluorescent light, their silence almost oppressive. Others reveal lush, curated spaces—gardens where bioluminescent flowers bloom in a soft, otherworldly glow, their petals unfurling like whispers against the artificial breeze.

Waterfalls cascade down smooth stone walls, their shimmering descent captured in crisp, high-definition clarity. Libraries sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling glass, dark wood shelves lined with both rare books and glowing data slates, and plush leather seating bathed in soft, golden light—a seamless blend of luxury and knowledge.

Yet, despite the breathtaking variety before him, his attention is drawn to one screen in particular. Something about it—perhaps the flicker of movement, the subtle shift in shadow—demands his focus.

You.

You stand before the open wardrobe, fingers skimming over the array of fabrics, hesitating.

Something twists in his chest.

It happens fast, instinctive—like a flicker of old wiring trying to reroute itself. Something he shouldn’t feel.

But he does.

His violet eyes trace every detail as you shift through the clothing options. There’s an abundance of choices—elegant silks, soft cottons, layers meant for comfort rather than necessity.

And yet, when your fingers pause, it’s on something practical.

Dark, fitted. Movable.

A slow, amused sound escapes him—“tsk, tsk, tsk.”

He already knows.

Even before you strip off your nightwear and begin sliding into a long-sleeve shirt, breathable and light, he knows.

You’re planning to run.

Again.

His gaze lingers for a second too long as you fasten the buttons on your cargo pants, checking their fit, testing their flexibility. It’s almost methodical, the way you move—not just dressing, but preparing. A muscle feathers in his cheek, and without thinking, his teeth catch his lower lip, a small, unconscious bite—barely there, barely a reaction, but enough. A fleeting lapse in control before he smooths it away, blinking once, recalibrating.

Caleb exhales through his nose, fingers loosely tapping against the polished surface of his desk. The gesture is unconscious, almost idle, but there’s an undercurrent of something he can’t quite name.

Not frustration. Not even disappointment.

Something closer to sadness.

For a moment—just a moment—he allows himself the thought:

You don’t trust him.

Even after ten days in the Maze, after the security, the warmth, the meals he ensures are exactly as you like them—you still choose to run.

That small, dying fraction of himself—the part that still feels, still remembers, still wants—aches.

Then, just as quickly, he shuts it down.

His violet gaze hardens, refocusing his thoughts, and with a measured glance toward the digital clock in the corner of his screen, he makes a decision.

“Early lunch then.” The words are low, absentminded, spoken only to himself.

He stands, rolling his sleeves down, adjusting the crisp lines of his uniform. His movements are fluid, practiced—not rushed, not tense.

This isn’t unexpected.

You always were predictable in your defiance. And while he should be sitting through another briefing on Fleet logistics, securing operations for Skyhaven’s next expansion project, this takes priority.

You take priority.

Without another glance at the monitors, Caleb steps away from his desk, his boots echoing lightly against the pristine floors of his office.

His command to The Fleet’s automated systems is brief, quiet, and final.

“Cancel my schedule for the next hour.”

——————————————————————————

The Maze, you

The air is fresh, sterile. The Maze is designed to feel real, but it isn’t.

Some corridors have grass growing in patches, soft beneath your steps. Others are lined with polished stone, textured enough to feel almost natural. Somewhere, hidden beyond the walls, you hear the soft, rhythmic hum of unseen machines. The constant, inaudible shifts of the Maze adjusting itself.

Every sound. Every change.

Caleb built this place beautifully.

But a golden cage is still a cage.

You let your fingers graze the walls, memorizing the faintest seams. The air is still, too quiet. You keep walking, turning a corner—

Then—

A door stays open a second too long.

Your breath catches.

You move. Fast, silent, sharp.

Each step is calculated, your feet landing light against the ground as you slip through the threshold before it can close.

The first hallway is clear.

Your pulse spikes, adrenaline flooding your veins.

A second hallway—open.

You keep going.

Your heart pounds.

A third hallway. Open. Your pulse spikes, adrenaline burning hot in your veins.

You don’t stop. You don’t think. You move.

And then—

A shadow. A shift in the air.

Arms wrap around your waist.

A solid, crushing force, an unyielding grip stronger than your own body. Your breath leaves you in a sharp exhale, and you thrash immediately. Fingers claw at his forearm, at the muscle in his wrist, nails digging into flesh—but he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know better than this, Pips.” Caleb’s voice is too steady. Too calm.

The fight in you explodes.

You shove back, twisting, slamming your elbow into his ribs. It’s a clean hit, right where you aimed—

And he doesn’t even move.

“Really?” Caleb exhales, the sound a mix of amusement and something dangerously close to indulgence.

You fight. He doesn’t flinch.

In a single motion, he lifts you. Effortless. Controlled. Like this was always how it would end.

Your breath stutters as the world tilts.

His hold is secure, strong, completely unshaken. His body is warm against your back, his presence a wall you can’t break through.

“I’m disappointed,” Caleb murmurs. “I thought we were past this phase.”

You twist again, wild, desperate—he tightens his hold.

It isn’t painful. It’s just inescapable.

“Still fighting me, huh?” A sigh, low, almost indulgent.

Then—he turns.

And carries you back. Deeper into the maze.

——————————————————————————

The door hisses shut behind you, locking with an unmistakable click.

The room is warm. Comfortable. Familiar. Which only makes you hate it more. Everything here is chosen for you. The plush seating, the softest blankets, the bookshelves filled with titles you’ve mentioned in passing. There’s even a record player in the corner, already humming out a low, nostalgic tune.

Caleb has built you a paradise.

And then he’s tied you to the chair.

The contrast is almost comical.

A high-backed, cushioned armchair, angled just slightly toward the crackling fireplace. The restraints—thin, smooth straps, nothing rough or cruel—keep your wrists and ankles in place.

And once again it’s not painful. Just inescapable…

“You know,” Caleb says conversationally, adjusting the straps like he’s tucking you in for the night, “this wouldn’t be necessary if you behaved.”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you glare at the bookshelf across from you, focusing on the hardcover spines of your favorite novels rather than the man currently fastening you into your luxury prison.

“Pips, don’t be like that.”

The nickname makes you grit your teeth.

Caleb straightens, stepping back, hands loosely resting on his hips as he surveys his work. His violet eyes flick over the restraints, your tensed arms, your jaw clenched in irritation.

Then—a smirk.

“Comfy?”

Your glare could burn through steel.

“Oh, come on,” he sighs, gesturing vaguely around the room. “I could’ve put you somewhere far less accommodating.”

Your eyes flicker around the room, unwillingly cataloging every sickeningly perfect detail.

The softest blankets in the universe draped over the nearby couch. A table of fresh fruit, chocolates, and a steaming cup of tea—your favorite blend. A window overlooking a perfect sunset, artificial but beautiful.

And worst of all—the armchair you’re currently restrained to? It reclines.

Your fingers twitch.

“See?” Caleb tilts his head, reading your expression effortlessly. “I’m not unreasonable.”

You huff through your nose, looking away.

Caleb leans down, hands bracing the armrests, his breath a whisper of warmth against your skin. Violet eyes—too sharp, too knowing—trace your features, his stare slow, deliberate, as if committing every defiant line to memory.

“I don’t like doing this to you, Pip-squeak.” His voice is softer now. Too close. Too careful.

His gloved fingers glide over your cheek, a slow, feather-light drag of cool leather against your too-warm skin. It shouldn’t leave an impression, but it does—a whisper of control, deliberate, inescapable.

Then, he moves—not back, but forward.

He leans in, slow, deliberate, until his breath ghosts against your lips, warm and steady, the space between you shrinking into nothing.

And then, just there, against your mouth—

“But you have to stop trying to leave me.”

The words are soft, almost gentle—but there’s nothing soft about the way they settle into your bones. A command, a fact, absolute.

He’s already gone.

Straightened. Moved away, as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from your lungs, as if he hadn’t just set your pulse stumbling. Like he’s in control.

Because, of course—he is.

Caleb he tilts his head slightly, gaze flickering down as he taps a single finger against the watch on your wrist—light, teasing, as if this is just another game.

“Should we say two hours of relaxation?” His voice is smooth, almost coy. Then, with a smirk, he leans in just slightly, like he’s sharing some playful little secret. “Then we can go play basketball later.”

And just like that, he turns on his heel, stepping away, unbothered, already moving on—as if he hadn’t just tied you down, as if he hadn’t just reminded you exactly where you belong.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, Caleb

Caleb stands just outside the room, his back to the door, his gloved fingers twitching at his sides. His breath escapes too sharp, too uneven, something off-rhythm about it.

He should be proud. He handled the situation with perfect efficiency.

You fought. He won.

And yet—his pulse is off. The air in the corridor feels heavier than it should.

He presses his fingers to his temple. Once. Twice.

Like he’s trying to force something back into place.

Steps sharp, too controlled.

He moves down the corridor, into the main halls of the Maze, the exit looming ahead.

Then, as if remembering something only he can hear, Caleb pulls a small device from his belt—sleek, no larger than his palm, its surface smooth and seamless.

His grip tightens around it.

It’s unnecessary.

You’ve made your choices. He’s made his.

And yet—his thumb presses down.

A soft, nearly imperceptible beep registers in his earpiece. Inside the locked room, the restraints will loosen. You won’t be free to leave. But you’ll be free to move.

His shoulders drop by a fraction of an inch, just enough that someone trained in reading body language might notice.

But no one is watching.

Caleb’s fingers press down on a door panel.

The door unlocks.

And Caleb steps through.

Behind him, the Maze remains unchanged, unmoving, silent. But no matter how far he walks, no matter how many doors close between you—

He will return to you.

He always does.

Because you are still inside.

And Caleb has never been able to stay away from you for long.

Not before.

Not now.

Not ever.

——————————————————————————

Chapter two

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: So I had this idea and I love crazy delulu Caleb. I kinda like it? It’s something? It has potential, I think? I’m playing around with writing styles and this is the product. I feel like anything could happen in this maze lol. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[pumpkinfox]

STAY IN THE BOX!

I thought I was free from this fandom. Then suddenly it came back the moment the John skin was posted. Bro now I gotta do concept skins for the rest of the bosses as either killer skins or their pre-corrupted form as survivor skins because we got Blixer and Cube. Then where Cyan and his gang? Lycanthropyor? Barracuda? Hell, Im suprised they used the 2nd form for Blixer instead of his final fight one. That would go hard but this is already peak as is. Time to S rank the entire game again :3

[Chraracter ideas for the player gang]

Cyan would be either Noob or Guest 1337, reason: Why not?

Orange/Cyder would be Builderman or 007n7, reason: Orang :3

Yellow/Lemon would be either Chance or Duskkar, reason: Chance with his coin, Duskkar... why not :/ (no yellow color :<)

Green/Shamrock would ong be Chance again, reason. LETS GO GAMBLING!

Ok back to the depths I go :3

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hi. What if the reader wants a child in common with We're ar-oh? What will she do? And how will he react?

Calling For The Impossible

Pairings: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 1930

Summary: The culture of Yautjas are widely different when it comes to humans. There are some things you wished your own kind would adopt while thankful there are others you aren't apart of. You wish for a child with We'ar-ow. There are plenty of means of producing one with a different, advanced species. But hybrids are frowned upon in many, many clans. We'ar-ow's including.

Author Note: I tried my best to make it gender neutral since I didn't know what gender you wanted. I did lean a bit more male, sorry if that's the wrong side though. We'ar-ow's different compared to Gawtin. Different backgrounds and clans. So, this is the other side of the coin.

Masterlist

Ao3

After the rise and fall of Dwainet, you have grown more than comfortable in a life of luxury. We’ar-ow is still her normal, Yautja self. Hard outer shell, but soft and mushy inside. All for you. With this calm and laxing situation, up came an idea that nagged and nagged at you. Until the words finally slipped from your lips.

In the calm quarters of We’ar-ow’s shared home, you were strewn across the pink Yautja’s lap. Your trusty tablet in your hands. A game for breeding hunting dogs had your attention. After a year, you’ve had grown quiet a large collection of dogs. Plenty of them well bred and the perfect creature. The game offered you plenty for the selling of the best of your dogs. As a soft-hearted human, it was hard to depart with them though. They were so ugly that it made them cute!

We’ar-ow’s hand rested over your stomach and ate up the majority of the free skin. An action you’ve grown used to, even craving it. The warmth she produces had a calming effect on you. The lack of clothing as well. After the day in and day out of seeing Yautjas practically naked, you’ve adapted to live like them. On their ship, in their culture, it was kill or be killed. A fact you learned the hard way throughout the year under her care and love. She may not say it in human terms, but We’ar-ow loves you more than anything.

Her thumb lazily stroked at the exposed skin of your stomach. You hummed and let your eyes drift shut. A comfortable silence engulfed the area. The game playing on your tablet forgotten about. Said tablet lowered down to rest on the edge of your ribs.

“Did you not sleep well, little one?” she asked to you once she realized your eyes were closed. Maybe you were a little tired, slightly exhausted from the long day. Yautja’s days were two hours longer than earth’s. It has led to problems where a midday nap was required to keep awake the rest of the day. Some times those naps would run much longer than you intended. That’s when your sleep schedule was messed up.

Your head shook in denial. “I did, love. Your presences… it calms me in ways I never thought was possible,” you explained why you were so lax. Yautjas aren’t used to a life like that. But, you were well protected. Not only because of where you were at. No, because of the hunk you offer your heart to every single day. She deserves it. She’s done so much for you.

Long, black claws grazed over your skin. You shuttered with a soft gasp. We’ar-ow kept doing that, tickling you in the process. Giggles erupted from your throat. You squirmed in her lap and tried to warn her off. The Yautja leaned over. Her long, black and pink tresses created a curtain around the two of you.

“And you, my dear ooman, hold my heart in your bare hands,” she purred to you in a rumbling voice. Goosebumps rose at the feeling. A soft smile broke across your features. You reached up and cupped one side of her features. Her eyes hooded over while she nuzzled against your touch. “Hmm, your hands.” She still wasn’t used to your softness. Maybe, that’s what drew her in. A touch she’s never experienced before.

She turned her head enough for her tongue to flick across your palm. Another hum rumbles from deep within her chest. You snorted at the feeling and gently looked into her eyes. The bright yellow is a stark contrast to your own. A color a human could never achieve. They were… phenomenal.

The tablet was laid down on top of your chest. You used both hands to hold her head. Your thumbs gently rubbed at the slightly wrinkling scales along her cheeks. The page book in her grasp was discarded to the side. Her massive hands gripped your hips and simply lifted you up. You giggled again, not surprised by her sudden use of strength. We’ar-ow loved to show off in front of you. A display of might.

Your thighs were forced wide to accommodate her size and hips. The same smile still was spread across your features. Pink hands continued to grasp at your waist and held you in place.

One of your hands rested on her breastbone to steady yourself. The Yautja peers down at you, features soft and open. You were able to read her like an open book like this; and she allowed you to. “What’s going through your head, love?” She was thinking. Something hard to. The gears were moving.

A hand gently grasped your chin and pulled you in closer. Deadly claws were close to your pulse point. A place where your life essence flowed quickly. You let her access, freely letting her have it.

We’ar-ow’s thumb grazed over your bottom lip. “That is a question I should ask you. You are thinking but holding in these thoughts. Let me here them. I am curious,” she states and leans in close to you. It was impossible to get away from her strong, powerful gaze. She looked directly into the soul she holds in her hands.

Instantly, you froze on the spot while a heavy heat rushes to cover your face. Though, you might think how in the worlds would she know? But this is We’ar-ow we’re talking about. This amazing leader and mate knows you better than yourself.

You swallowed hard and tried to turn your face away from her ever-seeing gaze. But, her grip prevents the move. We’ar-ow clicks her tongue then tsks with a shake of her head. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, little one,” she ordered and darkened her eyes. You felt even more in the spotlight and didn’t know how to react. Now, your thoughts were scrambled. From the deep rumble of her voice to the way she demanded your attention. She wanted to pluck the thought straight from your head. She wanted to know.

It was hard to keep looking into those piercing eyes of hers. It took everything in your power to finally speak the words.

“Well, I want…” you trailed off at first but she was a hunter. The predator was patient in her hunt. One she’s endured countless times throughout her life. A tug on your jaw got you to spill. “I want, want a child with you.” It’s been hard to hold onto an idea such as that. Such a life changing proposition.

A family with We’ar-ow, the leader of her clan and your mate. But, it came down to biology. Was it even possible between two different species?

For the first time in a long time, you saw her brows jerk up subtly. If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed. As her mate, you saw the change clear as day. You had caught her off guard.

She cleared her throat, mandible twitching. “A child?” she repeated the words. Clearly, she hadn’t believed you at first. “Why would you want a child with me?” You don’t completely understand why but that had your chest aching a little. But, you had to remind yourself that Yautjas don’t bullshit around. They are straight to the point. We’ar-ow, mate or not, was no different.

Your hands were folded in your lap, nervously playing with each other. You couldn’t look at her anymore and down casted your gaze. “I just thought… it would be night. To have a part of each other in someway or another. I-I don’t know.” You grew incredibly timid after spilling that information to her. We’ar-ow hummed and forced your head back more to make you look her in the eye.

“I will let you know the possibility for a hybrid to even make it to gestation it very low.” Her hand lets go of your chin and trails down your torso. “I, myself, dislike hybrids. They are an abomination. They are to die.” You jerked, eyes flying wide. That was the last thing you expected from her.

All you could say was, “oh.” Not another word could be formed after such a declaration. How could possibly think of something after that? If the two of you somehow had a child, she would kill it. You sagged in her lap and sorrowfully looked down.

A soft sigh came from the Yautja. Both of her hands cupped your jaw and drew your sight back to hers. “It may be harsh, I understand that humans aren’t as such. But, it is the truth.” We’ar-ow paused so her words could hang in the air. As a human, you were seen as soft and mushy. This was a reminder. “But, if you are desperate for a child we could raise together, we do have adoption.”

That got you to perk up with a smile brightening your face. The gloominess of the situation leaving from the forefront of your mind.

This was the first time you heard about adoption withing their culture. Yet, the idea of it existing made sense more than not. A race and culture built on hunting. Hunting always came with a risk of death. Though, mothers rarely left their children home while going on a hunt. Food had to come from somewhere. The fathers weren’t part of the picture most of the time unless they were mates.

A new sparkle flickered to life in your eyes. “We can adopt?” you cheered and sat up in her lap, thighs clenching. Both of your hands rested on her chest.

For a fleeting moment, you saw a flash of relief entered her eyes before it was gone. The two of you were continuing to run into issues due to the cultural differences. As adults, you talked it out and figured out a solution. That’s the exact opposite with Dwainet. It was a relief for yourself to have someone who will talk it out with you.

Her pink head dipped down to confirm your question. “Yes, it’s a possibility. There aren’t many in that situation. Yet, not many Yautjas are willing to adopt. It comes from thought process of blood.” She gripped your hips again and pulled you an inch closer to her. “I have had my fair share of children. I don’t have the need to have anymore. I am willing to adopt if that’s something you wish.”

From the beginning, you knew she was willing to lay down at your ask. The leader of her mighty clan. The mate of a human she adored. It all came down to the whole talking thing again.

You wiggled happily in her lap then threw your arms around her. An excited cry left your lips. “Yes! Please, I would love that.” It was the perfect compromise to this conflict of ideas.

She returned your hug and cradled your head to her shoulder. Her other hand roamed the expanse of your back. “Alright, I shall make contact with them. We will do our research. There are different places where these younglings come from. I expect you to do the same thing.”

Again, you nodded rapidly then pulled away, hands resting on her shoulders. “I will, I promise. Thank you, love. Thank you so much for making my wish come true.” This was a different turn of event than what you originally thought would happen when the question was asked. Yet, after the solution came, you were still happy with the situation. You were finally going to have a child with We’ar-ow.

[akaridream]

all the right buttons: part 2 GOKU (college AU goku x reader)

alright goku fuckers, come get y'all juice

and don't worry geta lovers, you'll get yours soon too

You stared at the coin in your hand, anxiously rubbing your thumb over it. The only way to discover your true feelings was to flip it. Heads for Goku, tails for Vegeta.

The coin sailed through the air. You captured it between your palms and flipped it onto the back of one hand. Eyes opening, you lifted your hand. Heads.

YOU: ummm i guess i felt like i had a slightly better connection with goku?

You climbed into bed and laid in the darkness, wiggling your toes impatiently between your bed sheets. Your stomach floated nervously within you, waiting for her response. What if your guess was wrong? Would you be disappointed if it was Vegeta? No, certainly not disappointed. But there would be at least a tinge of FOMO in your heart at the thought of missing out on Goku. He seemed so sweet and easy to get along with. But perhaps he was just a nice guy with everyone and you were nothing special to him. Whatever the case, you jolted when your phone finally buzzed with Bulma’s reply.

BULMA: as soon as you left, goku said you were cool and that you should come over again soon :) and he said you were really pretty An automatic smile spread across your face and you kicked your feet up with a delighted squeal.

YOU: omg i’ll come over right now if he wants haha

BULMA: easy tiger :) i gave him your number and told him to hit you up, so hopefully you’ll be hearing from him v soon

YOU: did you tell him anything I said about him? Did you put in a good word for me?

BULMA: I told him you’re super sweet and lots of fun to be around, but he was already kinda smitten and didnt need much encouragement. it was actually really cute

Your cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. Then your phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: hey, it’s goku! i got your number from bulma, i hope thats alright

You stomped your feet on the bed, pleasantly surprised that he was texting you already. This guy doesn’t play games!

YOU: omg hey! ofc thats okay! I know I can trust bulma not to give my number to creeps. I had a great time playing with you today!

GOKU: yeah me too! I’ll have to dig out some other games we can play together sometime

YOU: I’m absolutely down for another game sesh! Wish I still had all my old games, I’d bring some

GOKU: just bring yourself and I’m sure we can find something to play! theres actually an old tenkaichi tournament movie, we could try and find it somewhere and watch it

YOU: ive heard its actually a horrible movie! but that isn’t gonna stop me, i love making fun of bad movies

GOKU: haha cool! Vegeta and I always go to the gym friday afternoons, but I’m free after 5 or so. We could order some food and just hang out here

Wow, he really doesn’t beat around the bush! Straight to asking me to hang out already?

YOU: that sounds great! And will your roommates be joining us?

GOKU: they’ll probably be around. But i was kind of hoping it might just be you and me

YOU: i think i’d like that :) so it’s a date then?

GOKU: yeah, if that’s okay with you

YOU: definitely okay with me! I can bring some drinks if you want

GOKU: yeah sure! You like chinese takeout? Theres an awesome place just off campus I order from all the time, they give you sooo much food

YOU: yeah, that sounds great to me. I’m sure you need big portions, you’re a growing boy after all!

For the rest of the week, you texted Goku without the conversation coming to a natural end. As midday turned into Friday afternoon, an anxious, fluttery feeling flooded your stomach. What should you wear? What should you do with your hair? What about makeup? In the end, you opted for a pair of high-waisted jean shorts, a cute camisole with lace trim and an oversized cozy cardigan that kept falling off your shoulder. The peek of skin would be enticing, if he was interested in hooking up of course. And you certainly weren’t against that idea. Since the day you met him, you had been thinking about climbing all over him, especially right into his lap…

You put your hair up into a clip and dotted your cheeks and lips with a soft glow. After a touch of mascara, you admired yourself in your full length mirror. Scrubbed, shaved and smelling lightly of perfume, you felt confident in your natural beauty. Your heart danced in your chest when your phone buzzed with a text from Goku, saying to come over whenever you were ready. You grabbed the case of chilled vodka soda from your dorm fridge and headed across campus.

By the time you arrived at Bulma and Goku’s front door, your cheeks were aching from smiling so much. Your heart still twirling like a ballerina, you knocked and awaited your date’s appearance.

The door swung open, revealing Goku in a tight black tee and another pair of short shorts in bright orange. He grinned and adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Hey! Good to see ya!” he said, giving you a brief but warm hug as you stepped over the threshold. Your arms snaked around his thin waist, pleasantly aware of having his hard body flush against yours.

“Good to see you again too, Goku! How was your workout?” you asked as he led you into the kitchen.

“Great! Vegeta hit a PR on bench today, so that was cool!”

You tilted your head as he took the case of vodka soda from you and put it in the fridge. “What’s a PR?”

He blinked. “Oh! Personal record. Sorry, I forgot you aren’t a gym rat like me,” he said, shyly scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, Bulma left this for us by the way.” Goku tapped a knuckle on a bottle of white wine with a fancy label.

“Oh my gosh, that looks expensive!” you said as you examined it. “But what a sweetheart she is! I’ll have to tell her thank you!”

Goku led you to the living room where the game console and old TV had been shoved to the corner and Bulma’s fancy flat screen once again dominated the space. A new coffee table sat in front of the couch as well.

“She’s been busting my balls all week about you,” he said with a shy chuckle as he plopped onto the couch.

“Oh yeah?” you asked in a teasing voice. “What about me?” A warm blush started to overtake Goku’s cheeks. He smiled and shrugged. “Just that she’s happy to see me take interest in someone, I guess. Apparently she thinks its about time!”

You sat on the couch and propped your arm over the back, turned to face Goku. “Has it been a while since you dated someone then?”

He nodded. “Yeah, since high school. I had a long term thing with this one girl but it didn’t end so great. She was a bit of a hot-head. But since her… I haven’t even been on a date. Just been trying to sort my own stuff out, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not the most experienced with relationships either. Shit’s complicated,” you laughed.

Goku smiled. “Yeah, you’re telling me!” His phone buzzed. “Alright, dinner’s here! Be right back!” His eyes grew wide with excitement and he raced out the door before you could even reply. He came back just as quick and unloaded a surprising amount of food onto the coffee table.

“Are you sure you ordered enough?” you asked sarcastically.

Goku furrowed his brows and looked over the selection of takeout containers. “Well, I thought five entrees might be enough, but I’ll be happy to order more if you want!”

You laughed and opened a pair of chopsticks. “I was kidding! This looks like enough to feed my entire family back home!”

His frown quickly inverted and he grinned. “Oh, okay, good! Should we break out what you brought to drink or try Bulma’s fancy wine?”

“Let’s have the wine with the movie, I think,” you suggested, padding over to the fridge and grabbed a drink for each of you.

Per usual with Goku, conversation was steady and comfy. You chatted and laughed as you sat on the floor across the coffee table from each other, both of your cell phones sitting untouched. “Is this table new?” you asked.

Goku nodded as he scarfed down some lo mein. “Yeah, Bulma bought a new one because Vegeta and I kind of broke the last one.” You sputtered a laugh. “How on earth did you manage to break a coffee table?”

“Well, we were just kind of goofing around and Vegeta slipped and… Fell right through it! It was all glass, he complained about it being invisible all the time anyway. Bulma is convinced he did it on purpose because he hated it!”

You covered your mouth full of food and laughed heartily. “That is hilarious! But what the hell do you mean you were just goofing around?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, just… Goofin’ off like guys do?”

“Sounds just like my brothers,” you said, shaking your head.

You finished your meal, with Goku eating the lion’s share of the food. You didn’t mind, he clearly required more calories than you did. As he was clearing away all the takeout containers, you watched him in the kitchen from behind. His wide shoulders and slutty waist made your head feel light. Or was it the vodka soda?

“You ready to bust out this bottle of wine?” he called over his shoulder.

Your eyes grazed over his silhouette, admiring his stellar ass in those tiny shorts. “Sure, let’s do it!”

Goku rummaged around in the kitchen drawers. “Crap, I have no idea where to find a corkscrew.”

You rose from your place on the living room floor to help him look. “Well I sure hope you at least know how to use one, because I sure don’t! I only ever buy the cheap wine with the screw top.”

Goku bumped into you, then placed a hand on your hip to navigate around you in the kitchen. You blushed at the contact.

“Bulma’s not here, is she?” you asked. “We could ask her if she knows where it is.”

“No, she said she was heading back to West City to see her parents this weekend. And Vegeta said he’d be out late tonight.”

Way at the back of a stuck drawer, you felt a spiral shape. You turned and twisted it until the drawer could move again, finally able to extract the object. You held it up with a bright smile.

“Ta-da!” you said.

“Hey, nice!” Goku said, giving you a high-five. He took the corkscrew and carefully opened the fancy bottle to pour you both a glass.

You returned to the living room with two stemless crystal glasses as Goku made a quick trip to his bedroom.

“The library had the Tenkaichi movie on DVD!” he called down the hall as he returned. You sat on the edge in the middle of the couch, watching him lean over to load the DVD into the player. Those damn shorts are giving me heart palpitations, you thought. His body is godly.

Cheeks growing warmer by the second, you slid your cardigan off one shoulder for some much-needed cool air. You caught Goku’s eyes taking you in as he turned around, peeking at him over the rim of your wine glass.

“How’s it taste?” Goku asked, his voice quiet and soft.

You raised the crystal and gave it a swirl before taking a sip. You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose as you swallowed the aromatic liquid, a trail of pleasant warmth growing in your chest.

“Expensive,” you said. You both laughed.

Goku grabbed the remote and sat on your right, his left arm automatically fanning over the back of the couch cushion. Once he started the movie, he exchanged the remote for his glass of wine, taking a sizable swig.

“Hm, it’s sweeter than I expected. The last time I tried wine, I felt like it sucked all the moisture out of my mouth,” Goku said.

You took another sip. “Yeah, this one is nice and mild. I could drink the whole bottle of this,” you said, your head starting to feel pleasantly heavy.

Eager to move closer to your date, you sat back into the couch and tucked your feet up, leaning onto your hip. There was still space between the two of you, but it was Goku’s turn to come to you next.

The movie began with a vibrant action scene, filling the dark room with bright flashes of light. After draining half of his glass, Goku leaned forward and placed it on the coffee table. When he leaned back, he closed the small gap between you, nestling your shoulder under his wing on the back of the couch. A rush filled you immediately, and you happily leaned your weight into his firm torso. At that, Goku moved his arm from the couch cushion to rest across your shoulders. Another pleasing rush of adrenaline raced through you. You licked your lips and sipped on the wine.

“This okay?” he said, barely above a whisper.

You gave a smile and warm mm-hmm before placing your glass on the table and snuggling up to him even more. His thighs spread slightly, making his leg press into yours. Like chess opponents trading moves, you thought about what your next move should be. Your mind flashed back to the last time you saw Goku. That blue tank top had shown off his pecs just right…

Biting your lip, you leaned your head over to rest your burning cheek against his chest. With your ear pressed to him, you could hear his heart beating wildly. The excitement of snuggling up with such a handsome guy was not lost on you, as your heart was purring like an engine. His pecs really did make for a great pillow.

Goku began brushing his fingers softly over your exposed shoulder. You sighed happily and relaxed into his touch.

“You’re comfy,” you said as you worked your arms around his waist. He leaned back, pulling you into him even more.

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “You’re cute.”

“Thanks,” you breathed, heart leaping at the compliment.

As the movie progressed, you paid less attention to it and more to every fiber of Goku’s body. After polishing off your glasses of wine and feeling delightfully buzzed, you curled up even further into him, feet tucked up and thighs falling over onto his. Your head also migrated from resting atop his muscular chest to nuzzling into his neck. All it would take would be a subtle movement to start kissing his neck…

It took a while to muster the courage to make such a bold move. It was only your first date after all. Perhaps this was moving too fast. But he really did seem into you. And you were undoubtedly into him. While gently petting your hand over his chest, you parted your lips, and allowed a steamy breath to escape and tickle his neck. His heart began to drum hard enough for you to feel. You let your lips touch his skin with a feather-light press. Goku’s dark eyes slid closed with your next kiss, the fullness of your gorgeous mouth lighting up each nerve along his neck. You gave a gentle suck to it, causing a sweet sigh to fall from his lips. You trailed your hand up to hold the opposite side of his neck as your tongue began to tease him with tiny kitten licks, then bold circles.

Goku’s hand went from your shoulder to the back of your head, guiding you. You felt his pulse pound as you kissed him. His other hand found your wrist and squeezed.

“Hah,” he breathed. “Need to kiss you.”

You pulled back enough to look at his handsome face. His cheeks were pleasantly pink and his eyes were dazed and dreamy behind his frames. He took your chin with one hand and brought your mouth up to his, finally letting your hot breaths intermingle before he sweetly caressed your lips with his own. Goku’s tongue softly brushed over your lip, silently pleading for yours. You obliged and his tongue invaded to massage yours. Every movement was slow and sensual, tender yet incredibly erotic.

While shifting yourself to face Goku more fully, your leg brushed past something hard, and you were certain it wasn’t just his meaty thighs. Your core heated and revved like a racecar. Unable to keep them suppressed, sighs and heavy breaths from Goku encouraged you to continue kissing.

“W-wait,” Goku said, pulling away slightly. “You aren’t too drunk for this, are you?”

You pulled back further and looked at him, his black eyes full of concern. Your heart clenched. What a sweetheart!

“No,” you giggled, pulling his glasses off and placing them next to your empty wine glasses. “I may be a bit buzzed, but I’m fully aware of what I’m doing. And I don’t intend to stop.”

With that, you climbed over Goku to straddle his lap. Without the black frames, his eyes shone with gentleness, and lust. Using his shoulders for support, you adjusted yourself atop his lap until you found exactly what you were looking for. His lips fell open with a sharp, breathy groan.

“This okay?” you asked as you returned your mouth to his.

Goku kissed you between heated breaths as he gripped your thighs. “Hahh, yeah. Definitely.”

You shrugged off your cardigan and tossed it aside as you made out. One of your hands worked into Goku’s wild hair as his hands wandered up to your hips. He pulled you towards him, chest to chest, and your tight jean shorts gave you both a taste of delicious friction. That made him shove his tongue messily down your throat, like he was slowly fucking your mouth. You whined, grinding your hips down. He responded with a tight squeeze to your ass.

“I’ve… I’ve never really done this whole hooking up thing before,” he admitted.

You scratched his scalp lightly, making his eyes flutter in pleasure. “We don’t have to go any further.”

“But that’s the problem,” he said, kissing your throat. “I don’t wanna stop. You’re really hot and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

You giggled as his lips trailed down to your collarbone, sweet sensations filling you from head to core. “Then by all means, continue.”

“You gotta tell me if you wanna stop, or if I go too far.” He slid the strap of your cami and kissed your shoulder.

“Okay. And you do, too,” you breathed as his fingers softly traced your arm.

Just the touch of his hands was enough to make your eyes fall closed in bliss, and you wanted his big hands all over you. Under your shirt, on your waist, in your shorts…

“Can’t believe you aren’t bringing girls back every night. You’re so fucking hot,” you said as he sucked on your pulse point.

He smirked and took your cheek in in his palm. “I’m not a fuck boy. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.” He gave you the most saccharine kiss yet, making you melt completely in his lap. “Which reminds me…” He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. “This… Isn’t just gonna be a one time thing, is it? Because I really do like you, and I want to get to know you.”

You smiled and put your hands on his gorgeous chest. “I like you too, Goku. And I’d love to get to know you better, and make out with you more, too.”

He gave a glowing smile and endearing chuckle. If he were any cuter, you feared your heart may burst. “Yeah, I really like kissing you. Like, a lot.”

And so you did just that. Desperate yet tender, Goku’s tongue reconnected with yours as your hips began to roll against his. Those shorts of his were blessedly thin, and your tight denim put pressure right on your sweet spot.

“Mm, touch me more,” you pleaded.

“Where?” he whispered.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

You took Goku’s lower lip between your teeth as his big hands roamed freely. His thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts, then boldly over the fullness of them just as your hips hitched against his stiff cock print. A moan ripped from your throat.

You gripped the back of the couch on either side of Goku’s head and started working your hips into a rhythm. It was agonizingly slow for him, just enough stimulation to tease and make him want more. Foreheads sealed together, mouths exchanging breaths, you humped his lap as he tenderly squeezed your tits.

“Can you go faster?” he asked, a desperate tremble to his voice. You grinned and did as he asked while bringing your chest close to his face. He pressed your breasts together and kissed the tops of them, slightly pulling down the top of your camisole. You slid the straps off your shoulders and pulled the shirt down to expose your tits to him. Goku’s eyes shone brightly as they drank you in. “Fuck. You’re perfect,” he praised, circling his thumbs over your nipples.

“Use your mouth.”

He obeyed immediately, placing delicate kisses over one while softly pinching the other. You sighed and rewarded him by continuing to hump him. But he teased you, only lightly lapping your nipple with his sweet tongue.

“Mm, harder,” you whined.

Goku proved to be pleasantly obedient, taking your directions well. He sucked and pulled back to let your tit bounce, then sought your eyes for approval. You groaned in pleasure and mussed his hair, forcing his head back to your chest. One of his large hands supported your upper back, the other smearing saliva over your pert nipple. The telltale tingle between your thighs was beginning to grow steadily. Based on the way he was whining and bucking underneath you, Goku was feeling good, too.

“Damnit, please don’t make me ruin these shorts by cumming in them,” he begged.

You slowed your pace and lifted Goku’s chin. “Where do you want to cum then?”

His pupils wide in awe, he failed to form any coherent words. “I… Well, wha…”

“Aw, did I make you dumb already, big boy?” you patronized.

“I was never that smart to begin with.” His expression was dreamy and he stared up at you like you were a goddess.

You giggled and stood up. “Why don’t you let me finish you off?”

You got on your knees between his, your breasts still exposed and holding his attention. Your soft hands rubbed up his sculpted thighs, sneaking under the hem of his shorts. His eyes met yours as you palmed his aching cock. His perfectly kissable lips hung open as you teased him, and his throaty little moans each sent a pulse straight to your pussy.

As you pulled at the waistband of his shorts, you saw two wet spots of precum had soaked through, a sign of a job well done by you. Goku lifted his hips and pulled down the obstruction to reveal his gloriously sized dick. You almost growled at the sight, feral with desire.

“Holy shit,” you said, eyes devouring the perfect specimen before you. The tip was fat and shiny, begging for your lips to wrap around it. “This still okay?”

He blew a puff of air through his nose. “Of course.”

You wrapped your index finger and thumb around his thick cock, teasing up and down his shaft slowly. He tried to strangle his moan in his throat. You met his eyes as he reclined and you lightly pressed a kiss to his tip, then trailed more kisses down one side of his length. You never would have guessed he could made such sinful sounds from his candy-sweet personality, but each noise weakened you. Eye contact still unbroken, your lips finally enveloped his cockhead, then pulled off with an obscene slurp. One hand on his shaft and the other squeezing his thigh, you circled your tongue around Goku’s beautiful cock. Worshipping it with your mouth and hearing his vocal approval made you clench your leg muscles, stimulating yourself.

“Decided where you wanna cum yet?” you asked as you licked up the underside, making him shudder.

“Ahh… I’m really not picky,” he chuckled.

With that, you started sucked him off with purpose and vigor, eager to hear his whines of pleasure. Your saliva dripped down, making a mess of him as your hand twisted and pulled. You kept constant pressure and pleasure on him, making his moans pitch up. They came in short, desperate bursts and you finally dove deep, taking his entire length down your throat in one swift motion. As you lifted to dive down again, Goku gripped the arm of the couch with one hand and guided your head with the other. While his touch was light on you, you feared his intense strength might rip the upholstery of the poor couch.

“Ahh, almost there!” Goku cried, hips beginning to twitch.

End in sight, you watched his face as you sucked him. A few final strokes and one beastly growl had him shooting hot strings down your throat. His brows knit together tightly, mouth hanging open, head tossing. He writhed in pleasure as you slowed, swallowing every drop he offered you. And it was a lot. You swallowed at least three times, taking more cum each time. Even when your mouth left him, tiny beads formed at the slit of his cock. You smeared them with you thumb, then licked him clean.

“Hope you didn’t mind that I decided for you,” you panted, proud of your hard work.

Goku slumped on the couch wearing a dazed expression. “I can barely move. Damn,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But what can I do for you now?”

Just as a grin started to form, the sound of someone unlocking the front door jolted you both out of your haze. Your eyes grew wide.

“Vegeta’s back already?” Goku whispered, frantically stuffing himself back inside his shorts as you fixed your shirt. You stood quickly enough to make your head spin and grabbed your empty wine glasses to busy yourself. Just as you made it to the kitchen to wash the glasses (and your hand covered in spit and cum), Vegeta shoved his way through the front door. You gave him a soapy-handed wave.

“Hey Vegeta,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t take a long enough look at you to notice your flushed face, neck, and chest. Thankfully, he just gave you a grunt in reply.

“You’re back early,” Goku said, a lilt in his voice.

“Not really,” Vegeta grumbled, barely giving Goku a glance as he passed. His bedroom door shut with a stern thud.

“Sounds like he had a bad day,” you mused.

Goku stood from the couch and replaced his eyeglasses. “Well, yeah. He’s jealous that you picked me over him.”

Your heart screeched to a halt. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head and padded over to you at the sink. “Bulma said that you said you had a better connection with me.”

Your cheeks began to burn. “She told you I said that? But she said one of you asked about me! She told me to guess which one! I couldn’t decide which of you I liked better, so she… That Bulma!” You dried your hands and tossed the dish towel onto the counter, pouting that Bulma had tricked you into making a decision. “Wait, so neither one of you actually asked her about me?”

Goku smiled warmly. “Actually, we both did. As soon as Vegeta got back from his lab, we had an argument about which one of us was gonna get to ask you out. Bulma overheard us and told us she’d figure out who you liked better!”

“But I just flipped a coin! Literally, I couldn’t decide!” you laughed.

“You did? So you didn’t really pick me at all, did you?” Goku asked, looking like a kicked puppy.

You stood on your toes and reached your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sensual kiss.

“Fate picked you for me. And for the record, I’m really, really glad it was you, Goku.” His hands held your waist as he returned your kiss. When you pulled back, his sugary smile had renewed completely and his eyes sparkled with affection.

“Me too.”

tags: @artof-aristocracy @ghostlylovesstuff

[poisonlove]

The Princess and the Huntress | Jenna Ortega

y/n, a 19-year-old impoverished hunter, works alongside her father for the royal court, delivering game supplies to the king's kitchen. One day, while carrying out their routine duties at the royal court, y/n witnesses someone she shouldn't have – Jenna, a princess from the Ortega dynasty. Due to her captivating beauty, the king and queen wish to shield her from prying eyes, as she is destined to marry the duke of the neighboring realm to end the ongoing war and ensure lasting peace.

Disclaimer: Story set in the 1600s.

I close one eye to aim carefully, pointing the bow towards a rabbit timidly passing through those parts of the woods. A thin ray of sunlight filters through the branches, illuminating its thick gray fur. I breathe deeply, seeking the necessary concentration, feeling the warmth of the bow's wood in my hands.

The arrow is released, cutting through the silent air as it follows its trajectory towards the rabbit. A moment of anxiety dissolves into my smile when I see that I've hit it dead-on. The small animal lowers itself, and the forest seems to whisper my success.

An instant of gratification unfolds in my heart, a connection with nature and the mastery of hunting that has set my spirit free. I am Y/N, the huntress, and the forest is my kingdom.

I approach the rabbit slowly, smiling contentedly as I take it by the ears and carefully remove the arrow from its small body. The soft fur slides between my fingers, while the forest around seems to celebrate my fortunate hunt.

My gaze meets that of my father, who had approached silently. His proud smile reveals the joy of seeing his daughter demonstrate skill in hunting.

"Well done, Y/N," my father says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You have incredible precision. The royal court will be grateful for this."

"I hope so, father," I reply humbly as we continue to prepare the prey. "This rabbit will be an excellent addition to the king's dinner."

Together, we look at the result of my hunt, a moment of connection between us and our mission at court. The forest guarding our secret and our skill.

"Y/N," my father says, handing me the rabbit to take it to the castle, "I'll head home and prepare our dinner. In the meantime, deliver the game to the royal court and make sure to ask for at least three gold coins as compensation. Our skill deserves proper recognition."

"I will, father," I respond with gratitude, accepting the load. "Thank you for teaching me the art of hunting and diplomacy."

My father smiles, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's not just hunting you need to learn, Y/N. In the royal court, social skills are equally crucial. Go, and always remember who you are."

With a nod of agreement, I walk away, carrying not only the weight of the rabbit and the game but also my father's legacy. The forest has bestowed its blessing upon us, and now our task is to deliver the fruits of the hunt to the royal court.

I approached the majestic castle door. Turning to one of the guards, I asked if they knew where the game supplier was. "Have you happened to see William?" I inquired with a slight hint of curiosity.

The guard vaguely pointed down the hallway, but before providing a more precise answer, I followed my instincts and ventured into the heart of the castle. Walking through the silent corridors, tension grew in my chest.

While searching for William, I was drawn to a partially open door. Curious, I peered inside, and the scene that unfolded left me speechless: a girl seated by the window, immersed in reading a book. It was Jenna, the princess I had heard about but doubted her existence. However, I wasn't captivated by the legend of the king's daughter trapped in a golden prison but by the beauty she exuded.

Jenna was a vision of grace by the window, dark hair cascading softly over her shoulders. The room's soft light gently caressed her skin, highlighting her sparkling eyes, deep as wells of secrets. She wore a dress in delicate tones, snug to her form yet exuding an air of regal elegance.

The book in her hands seemed to be just an accessory for her, a portal to unknown worlds unfolding in the pages under the princess's attentive gaze. Slightly parted lips reflected an air of tranquility, as if she herself were a character stepping out of one of the stories she loved to read.

I accidentally kicked the door, catching her attention.

Our gazes locked, and a moment of intense connection unfolded between us. "Who are you?" Jenna asked, lifting her gaze from the book, while I, distracted,

"I'm Y/N, the huntress," I replied with a nervous smile.

Jenna raised an eyebrow slightly, a peculiar, dancing smile on her lips. "And what brings a huntress to my room?" she asked curiously, the book now closed in her hands.

I looked around, noting the richness of the furnishings, but my answer was genuine. "I was looking for William, the game supplier. I stumbled upon this room by chance."

Jenna chuckled slightly, the sound like a delicate melody in the air. "William isn't here, but I'm curious to know what would prompt a huntress to enter without knocking."

My gaze wandered, and I noticed the canopy bed in the center of the room, a masterpiece of dark wood and fine fabric. "It's a splendid room," I commented inadvertently, admiring the opulence of the place.

Jenna smiled, perhaps noticing my awe. "Thank you... it's a regular room," the brunette shrugged, and I looked at her with a smile on my lips. "Well... I wish mine were like this," I muttered, and Jenna smiled knowingly.

I noticed the book in Jenna's hands and, intrigued, asked, "What book is that?"

The princess lifted the volume with a mysterious smile. "It's 'The Prince' by Niccolò Machiavelli," she said, indicating the worn cover.

"Machiavelli," I repeated the name even though I wasn't quite sure who he was.

Jenna smiled and said, "Do you know Machiavelli?"

"Of course!" I responded with a smile, although I was actually lying.

"Oh, I'm surprised!" Jenna exclaimed amused. "What do you think of his work?"

Trying to maintain my charade, I replied with a thoughtful expression, "He's a profound author, undoubtedly with much wisdom to share."

Jenna laughed slightly, and the sound filled the room. "Interesting choice of words. Not many share this opinion on Machiavelli."

"It seems you're trying to hide something, Y/N. Do you really know who Machiavelli is?" I blush weakly, confessing my weakness. "Actually, no. I can't read." Jenna's smile widened, but there was no judgment in her eyes. "You don't need to hide anything here. Not everyone is a reader." Jenna smiled gently.

Noticing my embarrassment, Jenna asked kindly, "Do you want to learn to read, Y/N?"

I nodded timidly, feeling the warmth of the blush still on my cheeks. "Yes, I would like to."

The princess smiled warmly and pointed to a spot next to her. "Come here. We'll start with something simple."

I approached the window and sat next to Jenna, feeling nervous about her proximity. The room's soft light created an intimate atmosphere as I tried to focus on what Jenna was about to teach me.

The princess took a book, choosing one with clear and large letters. "First, the letters. This is A, this is B..."

While Jenna patiently taught the basics of reading, I tried to pay attention, aware of the accelerated beating of my heart. It was a moment where the desire to learn to read intertwined with the emotion of being close to Jenna, creating a precious and vulnerable moment between us.

William's voice in the distance made me abruptly stand, feeling that it was time to interrupt our impromptu lesson. Jenna looked up with confusion as I smiled with embarrassment.

"I have to go... the task," I said with a hint of embarrassment in my voice.

Jenna genuinely smiled, understanding the situation. "Another time, then. Thank you for your company, Y/N."

I stood up with a smile and a nod of farewell. "Thank you, princess. It will be a pleasure to continue this lesson."

In a sudden impulse, as I was about to leave the room, I approached and planted a quick kiss on Jenna's cheek. The surprise on her face was evident, a moment that made my heart race even faster.

"It was a pleasure, Jenna," I said with a shy smile.

I headed towards the door, feeling my heart still slightly accelerated from being close to Jenna. As I walked away, I reflected on how that day had brought unexpected changes to my life as a huntress.

[inseobts]

Wishful Gaps

leorio x male!reader

request: So for my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Leorio and a male reader in an Aladdin au please? The reader is a genie who befriended Leorio as a boy. The conflict is that the genie can't be around him for very long because he ends up with different masters. So he ends up seeing Leorio grow up in gaps, up until his elderly years. (@princeasimdiya12)

a/n: first time writing about him and it's been a long time since I last watched/read something hxh related, so I hope I got it right and that it's good

tags: male reader, genie reader, hurt/comfort, slow burn, aging

words count: 2.3k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You feel your golden prison shaking in the hands of someone new. A thief, probably. They always are. The scent of sand and sweat fills your nose as the cap pops free, and for a brief second, you stretch your essence outward like breath after drowning.

And then you see him.

A boy with brown hair sticking to his sunburnt face, one sandal missing, the other held together by a frayed leather strap. He holds the lamp like it’s made of diamonds. Eyes wide. Heart louder than his gasps.

You materialize before him in a flash of swirling blue smoke, a smirk on your lips even if it’s a little forced. You’ve done this dance a thousand times. But somehow, this time feels…

Different.

“Whoa,” he breathes, stepping back and nearly tripping over a rock “You’re… You’re a genie?”

You cross your arms “Three wishes. No more, no less. No bringing back the dead, no making people fall in love, and no infinite wishes. Got it?”

He blinks “You’re real.”

“Yeah” you say, flicking a spark off your fingertips “And you’ve got three shots to make your life a little less miserable. Better make ‘em count.”

But he just stares at you, mouth open.

You cock an eyebrow “Gonna wish for a mountain of gold? A palace? A camel that doesn’t spit?”

“…Do you wanna sit down?” he asks.

You blink.

“…What?”

“You look tired.”

And for the first time in centuries, you don’t know what to say.

You learn his name is Leorio.

He doesn’t wish for riches or revenge. Not yet. He lets you float around him while he wanders the back of the alleys.

He offers you half a piece of stale bread.

No master has ever done that.

“You’re weird” you tell him.

“You’re lonely” he says back. And damn it, maybe you are.

He makes his first wish on accident.

It’s a mugger, tall and mean, who corners Leorio in an alley with a rusted knife and a demand for coin he doesn’t have. You feel the boy’s pulse thundering like war drums.

“I wish he’d leave me alone!”

Just like that, it’s done. The mugger trips on nothing, hits his head, and goes limp. Leorio stares, horrified. You cross your arms.

“Told you to be careful.”

He looks at his hands like they betrayed him “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…”

You float beside him silently for a while. Then you add “One wish down.”

Weeks pass.

You make him laugh. He teaches you card games and draws silly mustaches on walls. He talks about dreams, about becoming a doctor someday, about helping people.

Someone steals the lamp while Leorio sleeps, another thief, another master. You vanish mid-laugh, torn from the makeshift home you helped him build in the ruins outside the city.

You don’t even get to say goodbye. Most of the time it’s like this.

You don’t see him again for seven years.

Seven years. Four different masters. Two desert wars. One fool who wished for immortality and exploded a week later. But sometimes, in the quiet gaps between wishes, you think of him. The loud, skinny kid with scraped knees and a dream too big for his pockets.

Leorio.

You still remember how his voice cracked when he laughed.

You feel the lamp change hands again—rough, calloused palms, fingers careful like they’ve held fragile things before. You expect another selfish brat or greedy noble, but when the smoke clears, it’s him.

He’s taller now. Leaner. The sun has kissed his skin deeper, his jaw more defined. His clothes are cheap but clean, medical textbooks peeking out from a satchel. His hair is the same mess, though, and his eyes widen when he sees you.

“No way…”

You hover midair, mouth slightly open.

“Leorio?” you breathe.

He laughs, like thunder breaking drought.

“You’re real! I thought— I thought I made you up. Some fever dream from when I was a stupid kid.”

You smirk, trying to mask the ache in your chest “You were a stupid kid.”

His grin widens “Yeah, well. Still am. Just taller.”

You want to hug him. You want to ask if he’s okay.

Instead, you float back and cross your arms, casual.

“So, you rubbing the lamp on purpose this time, or just got lucky again?”

Leorio raises his eyebrows “You think I’d forget you?”

He pauses. Looks away. His voice goes a little quieter.

“…I looked for that lamp for years.”

That shuts you up.

You look at him and you see what the years have done. He’s still got that reckless spark, still stubborn and loud and noble in the way people grow out of when life crushes them. But he’s weathered now. Carrying weight.

Carrying loss.

“…You only have two wishes left” you say gently.

He nods “I know.”

You float a little closer “So? What’ll it be this time? A degree? A magic scalpel? A clinic made of gold?”

He shakes his head “Nah. Not yet.”

You blink “What, are you saving them?”

He shrugs “I waited seven years. I can wait a little longer.”

You tilt your head “Why?”

“Because,” he says, giving you a crooked smile, “I’ve got some stories to catch you up on. And I don’t wanna waste them.”

And just like that, the ache in your chest flares warm and painful.

You nod, softly “Then tell me.”

So he tells you about how he started studying medicine. How he got kicked out of three clinics for yelling at corrupt officials. How he punches nobles who raise prices on medicine. How he still has nightmares sometimes, but fewer now.

You float beside him on rooftops under the moon. You hover by firelight as he reads anatomy charts by candlelight. You tease him when he fumbles with surgical tools and pretend not to notice how his eyes linger on you.

You are not his to keep.

But for now, he is yours to listen to.

You stay with him for three weeks this time.

You don’t know it yet, but that will be the longest stretch you ever get.

You can tell it’s coming.

It always does.

It’s in the way the lamp starts humming low when you drift too far. In the way Leorio’s touch leaves behind sparks now. It doesn’t matter how kind he is. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t made another wish. The bond is temporary. It always is.

But you stay anyway, because he laughs like home.

You’re sitting on the edge of a rooftop. Leorio’s beside you, chewing on some food and reading aloud from a medical scroll. His legs swing freely, and you float next to him like a lazy wind spirit, arms behind your head, pretending your chest doesn’t ache with every passing hour.

You interrupt him mid-sentence “You’re gonna make a great doctor.”

He snorts “Damn right I am.”

You pause “Do you… ever think about your last two wishes?”

Leorio sets the scroll in his lap, thinking “Sometimes.”

“Got something in mind?”

“Yeah.”

You glance over.

He’s not smiling “But I’m not gonna say it. Not yet.”

You want to press, but something about his tone silences you. So you let it go, and you sit in the quiet with him, listening to the sounds of the city below.

He leans against you, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat.

And for a moment, you let yourself believe in the impossible.

That night a drunk nobleman arrives laughing, ending up waving the lamp in the air.

You don’t feel it until it’s too late. One moment you’re listening to Leorio’s heartbeat slow in sleep, the next—Snap.

Your next master is a bastard.

A collector with too much coin and not enough soul. He lives in a palace with stained glass windows and tiger-skin rugs. He never asks your name. Just points at things and demands.

And you do it because you have to and because now the lamp is his.

But every time he makes a wish, you wonder if Leorio’s awake, reaching for you. If he thinks you left on purpose.

You don’t get to explain.

You never get to explain.

Ten years pass before you see him again.

You don’t know how. You don’t know why, but one day, you feel it. The hum. The pull. The gentle, familiar warmth of a hand that holds the lamp like it matters.

He’s older now. Beard scruffy. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. A long coat with patches and ink stains, a stethoscope looped over his shoulders like a badge.

And that same fire in his eyes when he sees you.

“…Hey!” Leorio says, voice rough.

Your throat closes.

“…Hey.”

The years show in the way he walks, a stiffness in his joints, a slump in his shoulders. There are streaks of silver in his hair, and his hands tremble when he holds the lamp.

But his voice… still sounds like home.

“Thought maybe this time… I’d lost you for good” he says.

You want to say something sharp. Something clever. Something to make the ache in your chest feel smaller.

But all that comes out is “You’re back.”

He laughs softly “Yeah. Took me a while. Bastard I got the lamp from thought it was cursed. Guess he wasn’t wrong.”

You float in silence for a moment, afraid to get too close.

He sees it.

“You look the same.”

“You don’t.”

“I know.”

He sits slowly, crossing his legs with a wince. You settle beside him, this time grounding yourself enough that your form feels almost real. Close enough to touch.

He doesn’t.

Not yet.

“I didn’t use those wishes,” he says after a moment “Did you know that?”

You nod.

“I thought about it. Every day. Sometimes I wanted to wish you free. Other times… I just wanted to keep you around. Selfish, huh?”

“No…” you whisper.

“Then why do I feel like I wasted it?”

You look at him, truly look at him. His eyes are tired, but still burning. The same fire. The same impossible, beautiful will.

“You didn’t waste anything,” you say “You gave me time. You gave me years, Leorio. Do you know how rare that is for someone like me?”

He swallows.

“I would’ve given you more,” he says “If I could.”

You smile, soft and worn.

“You already did.”

The stars are high when he pulls the lamp into his lap. You feel the shift in the air before he speaks, final, certain.

“I want to make my second wish.”

You go still “Leorio…”

He turns toward you.

“I want you to be free.”

Silence.

That silence is a cliff.

“You’d lose me…” you say “I’d be cast into the world without tether. No guarantee we’d ever see each other again. The magic that ties me to you… once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

“I know.”

You blink hard.

“Why?”

He leans in, voice low and raw “Because I don’t want you tied to me. Not like that. I don’t want you to disappear the moment someone else touches that lamp. I want you to choose where you go. I want you to choose to stay with me.”

You don’t cry.

You haven’t cried in centuries.

But this is the closest you’ve ever come.

“Okay…” you whisper.

He grips the lamp gently.

“I wish you were free.”

The magic doesn’t crack like thunder or explode like fireworks.

It fades quietly and final, like the last note of a lullaby.

You fall to your knees. You breathe like it’s the first time. The chains inside your chest melt like ice cream.

You’re free.

And he’s right there.

Still waiting.

Still looking at you like you’re something real.

You walk to him.

He opens his arms.

You go home.

When the magic left you, it took more than the glow in your hands.

It took the agelessness, the shimmer in your skin, the weightless way your feet never touched the ground. It took the eternal body you wore like armor for centuries. And it left you with something terrifyingly beautiful:

Mortality.

At first, it feels like a trick. You catch your reflection one morning and see the faintest shadow of a crease by your mouth. Your bones ache when it rains. You sleep longer. You eat more. You need more.

Leorio notices.

He watches you over the edge of his glasses one day while you rub your shoulder, grimacing from some old strain that never would’ve touched you before.

And he smiles.

Not out of pity. Not out of concern.

Out of relief.

“You’re catching up” he says, half a tease.

You roll your eyes “Please, I still look ten years younger than you.”

“For now,” he shoots back, smug “Give it time.”

You do.

Years pass, and your faces begin to mirror each other in new ways.

The same lines beside your eyes from laughing too loud. The same silver streaks at your temples. You wear matching reading glasses now. Leorio swears you’re just trying to be cute, and maybe you are.

It’s strange.

You once watched generations bloom and die in the blink of an eye.

Now you watch your reflection in the mirror each morning and find yourself slowly, gently changing.

Time no longer steals the people you love.

It wraps around you both like a blanket, and you let it.

There’s a day when you’re both too tired to open the clinic.

You sit on the porch instead, two old men under a faded awning, sipping tea that’s gone lukewarm. You don’t speak for a while. You don’t need to.

Then Leorio chuckles.

“What?”

“You really do look just like me now.”

You glance over. He’s right.

Same posture. Same slouched shoulders. Same deep smile lines and soft gray hair curling at the ends.

You grin “Guess I missed you too much to let you age alone.”

He hums, warm and quiet “I’m glad you stayed.”

You reach over, take his hand, and squeeze it.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Once upon a time, you belonged to everyone.

But in the end, you belonged to him.

[dancing-with-draegons]

Poison From the Same Vine

pt. 1

pairing: Larys Strong x reader/OC (she/her pronouns, no names, no descriptions)

summary: Larys has found his match in a shrewd and ruthless widow with a taste for spying, intrigue and poison. A battle of wits and worse ensues. Sexual tension.

warnings: talk of murder, poison play, intrigue, hints of NSFW, dark

word count: 2.4k

There was no man who could stand up to Larys Clubfoot, sneaky and treacherous as he was. But there was a woman who could. She was thrice widowed, with a dangerous sort of beauty that should warn men of the dangers that lay in her alluring eyes, her blood red lips, underneath her silken skin.

But men were fools and she liked to draw them in, and ruin them.

For the longest time, she had played her own game: a dead husband here and there, an obedient lover, an obsessed knight. But when she had come to the Red Keep, the stakes had grown, and she with them.

Men liked to tattle, women liked to share the gossip they had picked up on during the day, and the widow of Blackcrown shares her bed with them, her wine or friendship, whatever was required to hear what she needed to hear.

In time, she had drawn the eye of a prince, and his desire protected her better than any armour.

Larys Clubfoot wanted her gone, but a prince’s whore could be as powerful as a queen and she had long made her throne in Aegon's bed, and Tyland’s, and a dozen others.

Did Larys loathe her for the power she held? Did he lie awake at night and dream of besting her, like she did?

He was the one person at court whom she could not win over, the one man who proved invincible to her charms.

Sometimes, he would come to haunt her in her chambers, always giving some threadbare excuse to threaten her, or goad her. And so he had come today, to speak of soldiers and whores.

“You are a shrewd man, Lord Larys,” she said, without any regard for his threats, “though few will ever see that. But you pay your spies in silver or gold – and I have a purse you cannot match.”

She traced his cheekbone with one long finger.

He followed her with his eyes, grey like cruel midwinter frost.

“It seems an…affliction has befallen many of those who have frequented the street of silk of late,” he said, and although his face was a mask of pity and his voice carefully inflected to suggest the same, she realised that this was his great moment of triumph and the true reason he had come here today.

“An affliction.”

“A disease caught from some concubine, no doubt. Many of those women hail from the Free Cities and the uncivil lands beyond.”

“It does give one occasion to pause and contemplate our construct of civility, does it not?”

“Indeed.” He inclined his head. “For now, my prayers are with the afflicted. Such a terrible pox befalls them. Many are disfigured afterwards, if they survive the disease, that is.”

“I understand why you must empathise with those poor souls. But let their fate not burden you overmuch, my lord.”

“I shall heed your counsel, my lady. Only the most depraved fall victim to it, or so word has it.”

“So it begins. Yet, if it should befall those of gentler birth, of the gentlest birth – why, I am certain the origin of this disease will be found and uprooted.”

Larys Strong only smiled. He was not fool enough to spread the disease to Aegon's brothels. And yet…was there a way to limit the spreading? If so, she needed to find it, and quickly, or else her business would soon run dry. Larys seemed to believe that she opened her legs to any man she asked for a favour, and good for her he did.

But it was the promise of her cunt that moved many a man to do as she pleased. With a pox as terrible and dangerous as that, not only would she herself be at risk, no, the promise of coin would lure more men than her smile.

“I do pity the whores,” Larys said, and there was little of his usual softness remaining, “how will they earn their keep when their purses…run dry?”

“A dry whore is as useful as wet firewood,” she agreed amiably.

Larys Strong had no taste for the whores on the street of silk. He preferred his bed warmer crowned and reluctant. And when the queen was indisposed, rumour had it his tastes were perverse and strange, and those women that had to satisfy him never talked to anyone again.

She knew what he liked.

As she leant against the table and stretched out her legs, the hem of her gown rode up to reveal her slippered feet.

It was a dare.

Larys looked down on cue, and for a moment, his eyes rested on what she had bared to him.

No stockings. That alone was scandalous.

Her slippers were velvet, soft and clinging like a lovers’ embrace, and left much of her feet bare.

Her ankles were just visible underneath the hem of her gown.

When he looked up at her again, he was smiling.

“Those women are never out of tricks, though,” she said.

“Cheap tricks.”

Larys did not look down again but she sensed that he wanted to. And he wanted to do more.

Her obvious seduction attempt had shifted something between them.

And now, when he wanted to subdue her, he would think about ways that would be gratifying for him.

~o~

“Lord Larys.” She welcomed him into her chambers. “You bring happy tidings, I trust.”

“Indeed. It seems the Silk Street pox has vanished as quickly as it came.“

It had indeed, and turned out not have been a pox at all but a concoction made by some northern witch. A few drops had been enough to make boils appear and hearts slow, and soon enough, the panic that had followed had ferried some more poor souls to the Stranger.

She had caught wind of at all not in the city, but here, when a vial had been attached to a scroll for Lord Larys. He had taken great pains to hide it, her little lover had said, and had succeeded in doing so even from the maester, yet not from him. She had bedded him in return, but by morning, the boy had fallen down the serpentine steps and broken his neck. She considered herself innocent on that front. Larys was thorough, and it had been folly to observe him so obviously. She loathed to lose faithful informers, but he had tasted the sweet nectar of her cunt and oftentimes men became less loyal after that particular promise was fulfilled, so all in all it was no loss she couldn't cope with. There were two score where the page had come from, and there was a never ending supply of foolish, cuntstruck men.

The only exception stood before her.

“How wonderful,” she said and gave Larys' her most seductive smile. “We must drink to that.”

She led him to the table in the centre of the room, then slowly poured a fine Arbor vintage into two cups.

Larys had followed her to the table without a hint of suspicion in his eyes. Did he desire her already? Had he come not only to bring her these tidings and find out what she knew but to see her, smell her, maybe taste her?

He plunged his hand into the folds of his doublet but not to open the clasps, she realised with some disappointment, when he produced a ring.

It was an ugly thing, with a thick band made of yellow gold and set with a large, square onyx. She knew it well: her first husband had once given it to her as a nameday gift.

“Have you by any chance seen this ring before?”

She took it carefully and examined it, saw where the stone had been filed down to hide the carving it had once borne, the ill-fitting seams of the heavy gold band where it had been widened.

That had been done at Oldtown ten years ago. She doubted the jeweller was still in business, it had been a small, dinghy little shop far away from the cobbled main street. Not even Larys could know.

“I cannot say I have. Is it yours?”

Larys smiled. “It was found in the pocket of a soldier.”

“No doubt he stole it.”

“He sings a different song.” Larys' pale grey eyes were trained on her.

“A bawdy one, no doubt.”

“Not so much, no. And won't ever again, I'm afraid.”

“Poor creature.”

She seized the cups to offer him one, but froze as her fingers wrapped around the brass.

Had the right one not been closer to the edge of the table? And the other one had been further away from the pitcher.

She turned to look at Larys, whose eyes still rested on her. He looked calm, very pleased.

Had he switched the cups?

It made no matter. The antidote was in her pocket, and smeared over her lips.

If he thought he could trick her this easily, he would soon have to reconsider.

She gave him the right cup, then raised the left.

“To justice.”

He replied in kind, and drank deeply. She did the same.

The wine was sweet and heavy. She drank again, to prove a point.

“A good vintage,” she said and licked her lips until the antidote coated her tongue bitter and waxy, with an odd sort of aftertaste.

He nodded and took a measured sip.

“I have come to request your aid,” he said, slowly.

“You flatter me, my lord. How could I, a lonely widow, possibly help the Lord of Harrenhal?”

There was no man who looked at her like Larys Strong. His eyes were soulless and cold, his gaze unwavering, never lustful or heated, always intense, always calculating.

“Maester Mellos was quite troubled. He had found that his study had been broken into.”

Ice flooded her veins.

“The door is rarely locked, I heard.”

“Indeed. Are you not curious how he knew someone had entered without his leave?”

Her heart beat furiously in her chest.

“I had thought you would enlighten me momentarily, my lord.”

“Something was stolen.”

“How terrible.”

She blinked. The light of the candles was strangely blinding.

“A rare poison.” His voice was a seductive whisper.

“Not deadly, I hope.”

Her voice sounded breathless.

“Very, I fear. It heightens the senses at first, quickens the heartbeat. It is most…stimulating for a while as the blood flow is increased. And then, after a few hours, the heart gives out.”

“How gruesome.”

A treacherous throbbing began to spread between her legs.

“In the Free Cities, they call it Widowmaker. Many a wife has found her husband dead after coupling. Did not your first husband's heart give out one night?”

“A horrible tragedy. I still remember how the light went out of his eyes that night, as we made love. But he was an old man, and liked ale and venison overmuch.”

“Mh.”

Larys considered her for a moment. “The poison was not all that was stolen, however.”

“No? A greedy thief.”

“There was another vial Maester Mellos found missing. It had been erroneously labelled as an antidote to the Widowmaker poison.”

“That is a curious mistake to make.”

“Do you not wish to know what that second vial contained instead?”

“Of course.”

“Mainly beeswax,” he replied, “mixed with something quite revolting, if you catch my meaning.”

She took a swallow of wine as the first wave of lust took hold of her body.

Larys smiled.

“I remember you saying you came to ask for my help.”

“Yes,” his voice was soft, almost a caress, and it stroked something inside her. She needed this man between her legs, she needed his hands, his tongue, his cock.

Her laboured breath filled the silence for a moment, as he took in the effect of his workings with unhidden delight.

“To justice, you toasted. I have come to ask which punishment you consider fit for this thief.”

“Have you found him then?”

Larys took a step towards her, then rested his hands on his cane. “I am drawing closer.”

“Good.”

“It is customary for a thief to lose their hand, and for a liar to lose their tongue.”

“Mayhaps they could put both to good use, though.”

She opened the first clasp of her overgown. The chemise underneath was thin, almost translucent. Larys’ eyes dropped to the neckline but there was little interest in his gaze.

She raised the hem of the gown.

“Mayhaps,” Larys agreed. “Though there must be some form of punishment.”

“I suppose the Lord Confessor has other ways of punishment? Less….bloody?”

His grip tightened on his cane, the only indicator that he was not as calm as he pretended to be.

“Certainly. To break a man's spirit – or a woman's – can be just as…righteous as to break her bones.”

His voice…cruel, hard, and yet so soft. She rubbed her thighs together to calm the pulsing desire between her legs but to no avail. Larys watched eagle-eyed, his lips slightly parted in a smile, the wet tip of his pink tongue softly caressing his lower lip.

“Some do not break easy though, I trust.” Though she no longer felt invincible. She would die within a few hours, poisoned by what she had given her first husband the night he'd chosen to bed a chambermaid instead of her.

There was some justice in that, she supposed, and the sort of bitter irony she could appreciate.

What she could not appreciate was the way the poison began to cloud her judgement and take over her body. She had long wanted him to want her, wanted to drive him mad with desire, and now he had turned the tables on her with alarming ease.

“All break eventually,” he said, gazing at her curiously, “Though of course, should the thief have accidentally sampled the poison, thinking the antidote is at hand, the thief will not give me a lot of time to get a confession.”

“The antidote. I trust Maester Mellos still holds on to it?”

“He thought it best that I store it safely, just in case the thief makes another attempt.”

“And you keep it in a secret hideaway, I suppose.”

“No.” Larys raised the other cup, the clean cup, to his lips and took a measured sip as he made her wait for the answer she needed. “I have it on me.”

It took her a moment to understand his meaning. Then her hands went to the second clasp of her gown.

[sokkadora]

we can’t be friends — crosshair x fem!reader

inspired by: we can’t be friends (wait for your love) by ariana grande

summary: a clinic on pabu offers to erase the pain that came along with crosshair leaving the batch, but how will he react once he gets back and sees you with his brother?

a/n: crosshair and the reader never had an established relationship for this fic, but reader had a deep love for crosshair! also NO hunter hate on this page that is my man :P also i might make a part 2 but idk

wc: 2,078

warning(s): angst, no happy ending for this couple bb, flashbacks, memory wiping, reader has poor self/body image, kinda smutty but it's crosshair so, friends with benefits, unrequited requited love for hunter

︿︿︿︿︿︿ ✎ᝰ . . . .

‘You have given extensive thought behind your decision and give “Brighter Days Inc.” the exclusive permission to remove this person from your memory:’

Stopping your pen under the last word, you hesitate.

‘Maybe this was a bad idea,’ you think with a soft sigh, glancing at the woman in the room across from you; one seat for her, and another for her box of memories. Yours sits beside you, the weight of what you’re about to do hits you quickly, and suddenly any notion of even looking at the box makes it feel like a ticking time bomb.

The woman across from you strokes a thumb across what must be her late pets collar, and you quickly revert your gaze down to the sheet of paper again. The tip of your pen hovers over the “No” option, but drifts over to the “Yes” box, checking it off, and finally, signing your name at the bottom of your page.

The necklace dangling over your neck feels like iron against fae skin as a nurse comes out of the back room, door quietly creaking open as she calls your name. You stand quickly, handing her the paperwork and the pen with trembling hands before grabbing the box labeled “Crosshair” and walking inside.

MEMORY WIPE INITIATED

“Please, Crosshair?” You beg sweetly, dragging him across the arcade to a claw machine, finally having a bit of free time on your shore leave. 

You’d been trying to convince him to have a break together with the both of you for a while now, away from the boys and the riff raff of the military, but per usual, he was stubborn about it. He’d offhandedly said how childish it was of you to want to play games with him at an arcade instead of your usual… activities, on shore leave. But you got him to agree, seeing as he can barely ever resist how cute you look when you beg.

“Hellcat, this is ridiculous,” Crosshair crosses his arms and glares down into the machine at the plethora of stuffed animals inside. Your eyes had been on the small lothcat in the middle since the both of you had arrived, and you’ve bugged him about it enough that he considered it. “Even Wrecker knows these are rigged.”

“Where’s that overcompensating confidence?” You tease, pulling out a few tokens and placing them in his hand softly. You glance up at him with a soft and pleading look, one that you don’t yet know (and will never know) gets him weak in the knees. “Please, Crosshair? For me?” 

At the sight of your big doe eyes, he scoffs, loading the coins in and barely holding back a smile at your excited squeals and the hand shaking his shoulder gently. It takes him a minute to get a hold on the controls, but after some peeking around the corner of the machine and some naturally perfect aim, he lowers the claw and catches the lothcat.

You gasp, watching excitedly as it stays in the claws grip as it moves over to the prize dump, and as Crosshair retrieves it for you and holds it out.

“Happy now?”

You grin down at the stuffed animal and then at Crosshair before lunging forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders with an breathless laugh, “Thank you.” You grin, nuzzling into the side of his head, and pulling away before he had to chance to hug back.

Overwhelmed with the happiness of the moment, you barely notice the room going dark before the feeling of Crosshair’s surprisingly warm gaze leaves you. You look up, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden void of the arcade.

MEMORY SUCCESSFULLY ERASED.

“Cross?”

“Yes?”

“Am I ugly?” 

Crosshair’s gazes narrows, glancing at you as you lay under the covers of your bed. He lifts his arm to hold up the blanket better, glaring at you, but not angrily as tears begin to well in your eyes. He shakes his head firmly, grunting.

“When I was a kid I thought I was,” You started, having his full attention from the second you walked in the room. You scoff softly at yourself, “I can’t believe I’m crying already, sorry.”

Crosshair doesn’t reply, but instead simply reaches over and wipes your tears; a gesture he never would’ve done in the first months of the arrangement the two of you had, but things had changed. You’d changed him.

“I was so lonely as a kid,” You say softly, the words just pouring out of you. “I don’t think anybody realizes how lonely kids are, even after growing up. We just sort of stop paying attention. Like they don’t matter.”

You sniff, and Crosshair doesn’t seem to want you to stop, so you keep going; relishing in the feeling of his warm hand covering your cheek.

“So, I’m like… eight or so. And I have this really pretty girl doll, that I named after myself that I’d just get so frustrated with,” You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, expecting the embarrassment of sharing the personal memory to rise, but it never comes. “It was some standard I’d hold myself to and whenever I’d find myself not liking myself, I’d look at her and it’d get me so mad. I made it to encourage myself, but it was just a constant reminder of my shortcomings as a person. It’s weird. Like… if I can make myself that pretty, maybe people would finally like me,” You finally glance up to meet Crosshair’s gaze, finding that it’d softened into something unreadable to you. 

He leans over and plants a firm kiss on your mouth, his hand sliding down to grasp the sides of your neck before he pulls back. His hands start wandering down with his mouth that keeps peppering you with kisses, softly murmuring the word ‘pretty’ between each kiss. You writhe under his touch, a hand rising to cover your mouth as a warmth shoots down to your lower stomach. You relish in how safe you feel under him before he… he…

MEMORY SUCCESSFULLY ERASED

“Why won’t you come home?”

Your voice echos through his head as he stares out into the vast horizon where Tipoca City used to stand; where the home he grew up in with his brothers and met you in used to stand. He scoffs, glancing back at you from over his shoulder.

“That is not my home anymore,” He says in a low tone; a warning to anyone else, but you knew you had a bit more leeway with him. Fists clenching at your sides, your gaze narrowed into a glare. “Now leave. Hunter’s staring after you like a kicked dog,”

You don’t bother to glance back at the man you already knew was waiting for you, but at the mention of his name he seemed to back further into the ship to give you some privacy, trusting that Crosshair wouldn’t hurt you, of all people.

“This isn’t about him, Crosshair,” You snapped, “Come home. Please. I need you, and so do your-”

“I don’t need you,” Crosshair says sternly, pivoting on a foot to turn to face you with a cold glare. You reeled slightly at the look; you’d seen it before, but never aimed at you. “I never had and I never will. And if you were as smart as you made yourself seem, you’d join me on the right side of the battle. Just like how I thought you and Hunter didn’t have anything going on,” You open your mouth to correct him; he knew there was nothing happening between Hunter and you. He was your best friend, but Crosshair beat you to the punch, “But I guess looks can be deceiving, huh?”

It felt like a clear blow to a vulnerable moment you’d shared with him— only him — and it nearly sent you to tears. You reached up, taking the necklace and snapping it off your neck with a harsh glare in the sniper’s direction; another look that had never been sent directly at him from you, but one that he found made his heart break.

“Fuck you, Crosshair.”

MEMORY SUCCESSFULLY ERASED.

The sense of overwhelming dread that filled your chest and sank down into your belly had you jolting awake, eyes darting around the mundane white room as the panic of what’s happening begins to set in.

The heart monitor picks up its speed, and the two nurses rush to your side as your hand shoots up to grab and fidget with your necklace. You’d fixed it from when… when… 

Why did it need to be fixed? Who broke it?

Who gave it to me? What was his name? Cross…

The nurse grabs your shoulder as your throat tightens with your hands grip on the jewelry, “Can I keep this one? Please?” You sob, managing to smile through tears at the nurse to your right, “Please let me keep this one.” 

‘Crosshair!’ You think, another sob scratching it’s way out of your throat. ‘What am I doing?’

The nurse glances to her coworker and nods gently. She comes to rest her hand over yours, and you let the necklace fall against your chest, but you rest a hand over it protectively. If you couldn’t save your memories of him, maybe this could be the one thing that you do save.

MEMORY WIPE RESUMED.

You can feel yourself being jolted around before finally landing in another memory, your head resting on a warm, firm shoulder and your hand gripped in a strong one in your lap. The person you’re resting your head on… they sit up, and hand you a box which reveals a necklace that relates to your namesake. 

You grin, but the figure in front you shifts which causes you to look up.

Hunter.

He’s smiling at you softly, they way he almost always had; save for the first time he met you. You grin back to him, leaning forward on the couch from your kneeling postition to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He returns your embrace without hesitation, and you allow yourself to feel how perfectly the both of your bodies meld together. The warmth of his body under the civvy clothes you held for him in your personal dormitories on Kamino sank under your own, causing you to pull away. 

You barely notice how the room around you starts to shift, any objects affiliated with C4!@#??? begin to disappear, whatever holds your mind in it’s grasp seems determined to keep your attention on the sergeant sitting before you on the couch when you pull back from the hug.

‘Hunter gave it to me…’ You look up at him and smile lovingly, ‘of course he did,’ before leaning over and slotting your mouth over his.

MEMORY WIPE OF ??? COMPLETE.

The nurses gently help you up out of the chair, removing the device from your temples as the doctor comes to greet you. Another nurse holding a box hauls it out of the room as you shake the doctors hand and thank him profusely, grinning at the light and happy feeling on your chest as you turn to embrace the nurses in thanks. The woman at the front desk hands you an envelope of slips to give to your family and friends, and you thank her on the way out.

After leaving the office, you enter the outside of Pabu to find Omega waiting for you. Grinning you sneak up behind her, lifting her up and spinning her around. She shouts your name, but you can hear the smile in her voice as you set her down.

“How are you feeling?” She checks you over, and you smile dotingly down at her. 

“I’m alright,” You ruffle through your bag, the feeling of the necklace against your chest making you feel giddy. ‘Why did I feel so bad about it before?’ You think, but quickly shake it off and pull out the envelope. “The secretary said to give this to family and friends, but I don’t think I’m supposed to see.”

Omega curiously takes the large orange envelope from your hands, opening it and reaching in to find a ticket that said that you had:

‘Y/N L/N has erased Crosshair (CT-9904) from her memory. Please never mention their relationship to her again.’

Omega glances up to where you’re walking off with an arm looped through Hunter’s and feels a sense of dread fall to the pit of her stomach.

[green-eyedfirework]

“We’re in need of your services,” Slade said, and Dick stiffened.  Everyone wanted a magic user at their beck and call.  Dick knew it.  Letting him go had been—a mistake, a misstep, Dick had gotten free, the village would’ve protected him but he’d been stupid enough to come back here—“We will, of course, pay for your services.”  Slade’s eye flicked over him, and he added, “If you choose to accept.”

Oh, more games.  Delightful.  Dick drew himself up, as haughty as he could manage while trying not to tremble, “And if I don’t choose to accept?”  His grip spasmed on his knife.

Slade’s gaze was drawn to it, and Dick’s breath caught in his throat.  “If I wanted to keep you, little bird,” Slade said, low and heavy, “All your magic tricks wouldn’t stop me.”  He was right.  He was right, and he was stepping closer, and Dick wasn’t unarmed, wasn’t powerless, but Slade fought with the strength of his whole pack, and one man couldn’t stand against it.

Slade stopped right in front of him.  Dick waited for the hand on his shoulder, the blow sending him to his knees, the fingers gripping his jaw.  But Slade didn’t touch him.

“Birds don’t belong in cages,” Slade said simply.  Dick stared up at him, heart still stuck in his throat.  “If you choose not to accept, I turn around and leave.  No catch.”

Dick took a shallow breath, and stumbled back a couple of steps, not willing to be so close to Slade.  The alpha didn’t follow him, merely stared at him, silent.  Waiting.

Dick’s voice was hoarse.  “What services?”  And could he truly afford to deny Slade?

“One of my pack has been injured.  Fatal if left untreated,” Slade’s gaze was heavy, but not suffocating, “I was hoping you could help.”

Healer.  Slade wanted a healer.  Dick took a shaky breath, and tried not to sink down in relief.

“I can see what I can do,” Dick replied, steadier, because he healed anyone who asked for it, tried to help them to the best of his ability.  Slade backed off, letting him collect the borage by knotting up the cloth, and grabbing his bag as well.

Slade set off towards the northeast, and Dick followed him, careful not to get too close.  Staring at the alpha’s simple, sturdy clothing, another thought jumped into his head.  “Wait, what will you pay me in?  Coin?”  Werewolves didn’t usually do business with humans, not unless they were bartering, and Dick couldn’t imagine they carted around money.

Slade turned to tilt his face towards him.  “If you’d like,” he said casually, before dragging his gaze up and down to give Dick a very obvious once-over.  “I’m open to alternative methods of payment as well.”

Dick nearly tripped over a root, his heart stuttering a beat as his cheeks began to burn.  Slade’s smile turned more wolfish, and Dick willed his expression to stay blank.

“Coin is fine,” he said, forcing his words level.  Slade made a noncommittal sound, and Dick refused to look at Slade’s outline, the easy definition of muscles, the effortless way Slade had carried him those few weeks ago, that smirk—“Tell me about my patient,” Dick said, taking a deep breath and settling in his role, “What happened to them?”

~#~

Dick managed to walk-stumble-hobble out of the tent on his own power, though the world was just a little too bright and painful.  The cuts he’d cleaned easily, but the sickness was a curse, and breaking it took more magic than he’d liked.

He just—he needed a moment to breathe.  Probably sit down as well, but leaning against the tree was working fine for now as he sucked in deep breaths, shivering against the painful sensation of being laid bare, like his skin had been peeled off to let magic seep back into him.

It took him more blinks than it should’ve to recognize that the outline in front of him was a person, to register the eye patch, and to automatically straighten in the presence of the alpha.

Unfortunately, that was a bad idea.

The world tilted alarmingly around him, and Dick gasped as his view of Slade turned to a view of leaves and dirt, bracing himself for a painful and humiliating collision with the ground.

He didn’t hit the ground though, instead caught and pulled up, against something that ran hot.

“You sure you want payment in coin, little bird?” a low voice rumbled against his cheek, “That’s thrice you’ve fainted into my arms, anyone would start getting ideas.”

Dick groaned and tilted his head enough to bury it against Slade’s shirt.  “Fuck you,” he said, muffled.

“You’ve got the general concept down,” Slade murmured, “But you’ll be the one on your knees, little bird.”

The only worthwhile side effect of magical exhaustion was apparently he was too tired to flush.  Not too tired to imagine it though, and Dick had to ruthlessly kill that train of thought before it led into directions he was not prepared for right now.

Slade chuckled, catching the skip in his heartbeat, and the sound vibrated through Dick.  “Sleep first,” he said, and Dick sank deeper into the waiting exhaustion with the swaying of Slade’s gait.

There were sounds around him, low conversations, the rumble of Slade’s voice, and Dick just sank deeper and deeper and deeper, letting go, trusting that he was safe.

[captainnameless]

This is no stress and only when/if you have the time and inspiration.

But talk to me about super hyper little Max please😇

It doesn’t get like this very often, Max quite literally bouncing off the walls. Max gets excited, sure. About race day, about cheat meals, about Daddy time, about flags and animals, but rarely this… active.

It’s usually a sign of overstimulation, they’d been pretty busy these past few weeks, very little time with each other and even littler time for any regressing. Daniel’s glad the coin’s fallen this way though, he loves Max regardless but this is a little easier to deal with than an overly defiant Max who toes the line of boundaries and oversteps until Daniel puts a stop to it.

The pancakes don’t help though.

“Taste?” Max asks, holding out a bite for Daniel to take and Daniel blinks slowly, eyeing Max, then the bite, then GP, who shrugs sheepishly.

“He deserved a treat.”

Max always deserves a treat, Daniel thinks. But he’s also thinking about the added sugars and their 10 hour flight they’re about to get on. Oh well.

Daniel wasn’t wrong about the extra sugar, he tries getting Max to take a nap on the plane but Max is way too busy chatting, coloring, he’s doing puzzle games on his phone and keeps getting up out of his seat to walk around.

There’s a minor tantrum that Daniel has to navigate them through when he denies Max a Red Bull, distracts him with a Trash Truck episode and gives him an apple juice instead.

Max falls asleep on the ride home from Nice to Monaco and Daniel curses silently because this is not a good time to fall asleep and he knows this will bite him in the ass for bedtime but he doesn’t want to risk waking Max up and having to navigate another tantrum while driving.

Max wakes up 2 minutes from home like he senses it and turns on immediately. He’s darted up the stairs to the penthouse, refused the elevator while Daniel struggles with their luggage, and goes straight for the cats.

Daniel’s still navigating their luggage and then goes to take Max’s shoes off when he’s having a moment of being in one spot to cuddle his pets.

As soon as his feet are free he takes off and Daniel has to catch him again to remind him of the “no running inside” rule but takes Max’s sock off anyway, knows his boy well enough to know Max’s listening ears might not be tuned right now and he’s limiting the risk of a slip and fall.

Max tips over the entire bin of legos they have, busies himself with it while Daniel whips up some dinner, comes in to the kitchen every five minutes with a “Daddy, look!” while showing off a new build and explaining what it is.

Daniel realizes quickly Max is not going to stay seated for dinner, and pulls him into his lap instead in hopes to keep him there and get some food into the boy.

Max tries sliding off again after two bites and Daniel wraps an arm around his waist, keeping him in place. “Can you keep your butt still for a minute?” Daniel chuckles lightly and Max whines at him.

“My butt doesn’t want to be still.”

“We’re having dinner, buddy.” Daniel says, squeezing Max’s hip. “I’d appreciate it if you would sit and eat it, you like the lasagna.” He adds, grabbing Max’s fork and pressing it down into the lasagna and then offering Max the piece.

Max nods and opens his mouth for the bite, then speaks with his mouth full. “I like it but my butt doesn’t.”

Daniel rolls his eyes fondly, shifts Max a bit and feeds him another bite. “Too bad for your butt.”

Max finishes most of his plate before Daniel decides he cannot contain him anymore and takes the victory with most of the dish gone.

Max is dashing through the living again when Daniel catches him around the waist, digging his fingers into the soft skin around his fingers. “What did Daddy say?”

Max bursts into a fit of tickles immediately trying to unsuccessfully squirm out of Daniel trying to reply but his voice is cut off by another squeaky giggle when the tickling doesn’t stop.

“I can’t hear you.” Daniel smirks, shifting his grip and moving Max around so he can tickle all the way up under his arm. Pulling a delightful squeal out of the younger and another fit of giggles around a “Please Daddy!”

“Huh?” Daniel asks, pausing his tickles, still holding Max. “What was that?”

Max gasps for breath, cheeks flushed, big smile. “Please don’t, Daddy.” He breathes. “No running.”

“Oh, so you do know?”

The flush on Max’s cheeks deepens then, and he goes to bury himself in Daniel’s chest. “I’m too awake! I need to get the shakes out.”

Daniel sighs gently, wrapping Max up in a quick cuddle, the gears in his brain working as he tries to think of something. He really can’t be arsed to go on a run right now, sticking Max in front of a screen will probably only make it worse but he is suddenly reminded of Max’s pool.

“Wanna go for a swim?”

Max nearly forgets the no running rule again when he’s going to grab his trunks, and again when Daniel opens the sliding doors and Max makes a run for the pool, this time he argues they’re not inside anymore.

They splash until their fingers are wrinkly and Daniel takes his tike shampooing Max’s hair in the outside shower and sneaks in a little massage he hopes will mean Max gets a little sleepier.

He gets his first yawn when he’s helping Max into pajama’s which gives Daniel a tiny bit of hope that bedtime will be alright until they’re laying in bed and Max’s bright blue eyes are staring right at them.

“Maxie,” Daniel whispers, grabs Leo from in between them and uses his paw to gently stroke Max’s nose. “Close your eyes, baby.”

Max whines around his thumb, scooting closer to Daniel, speech a little slurred around the digit. “ ‘m not sleepy.”

Daniel bites back his own whine. “Daddy’s sleepy, and Leo’s sleepy. Can you try, please darling?”

Max nods, such a good boy, and scrunches his eyes shut that brings a smile to Daniel’s face. “Relax, bubba.” He whispers, goes back to using Leo’s soft paw to gently map Max’s face, trace over his brows and the bridge of his nose until the scrunch is gone.

He switches tactics then, maneuvers Max onto his chest and gently scratches his fingers into the shaved up bits of Max’s hair, lips pressed against the top of his head while he murmurs a song Max likes.

He’s worried he’s gonna murmur himself to sleep before Max but right as his own eyes start to feel too heavy he feels Max relax all the way, breathing evening out.

Daniel gives him one more kiss before his own eyes shut.