#I TOLD YOU THIS WAS GOING TO BE A BIG ONE

[monstersflashlight]

Lusty for love

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

Cupid (monster) x fem!witch reader || sex pollen, (light) dub con, breeding, oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink

You were stupid. A bit more stupid than normal at least.

You were trying to get some new potions to work when you accidentally spilled the pink powder he gifted you specially for lust potions. The pink powder was obtained from the cupid species, they produced it on their wings and any human or monster would instantly fall into a lustful frenzy once they touched it. And that’s why it was so hard to get, they had to give it to you specifically with a very clear intent of lust...

Your cupid friend gave it to you as a birthday present, and you were supposed to drop an itty bitty quantity in each potion because every time someone used the powder, he would feel it. You promised not to use much, always controlling how many potions you’d make… But you weren’t expecting for it to slip your fingers and pretty much cover your whole body. Your skin was tingling and your brain was barely coherent when you dialed his number.

“I need your help,” you whispered against the speaker, not letting him even say hello.

His response was instantaneous: “What happened?” You could hear him batting his wings in the background, and you were sure he was already mid air coming to get you. He must have felt the powder activating.

“I- I dropped the pink powder on me,” you confessed, your breathing labored and your skin tingly.

Fuck, you were about to burst and you didn’t even move. You’d never felt such intensity before, it was like every inch of your body was electrified and caressed at the same time, even the touch of the clothes over your body felt erotic.

“Fuck,” he cursed. The air against the phone was enough to know he was rushing to your house, his wings almost deafening in the background.

“Please, please…” You barely made sense, your brain was fuzzy in a way that made your clit tingle and your panties were so wet you could already feel your juices ruining your pants.

“Fuck,” he cursed again. In other circumstances you would have blushed, your unrequited crush on your cupid best friend making you feel all kinds of emotions. But you weren’t thinking straight, and he was talking again: “I’ll be there in a few minutes, take your clothes off, rub your pretty little clit until you are dripping wet because as soon as I cross your window I’m going to be inside of you, and I won’t stop until you are dripping with my come for every single hole.”

His words drove your brain into a frenzy, the effect of the pink powder getting even stronger as you did as you were told, pulling at your clothes so fast and hard you broke something. You didn’t care, you’d deal with whatever tore later on. You laid on your potions table, not caring about everything falling down or the million little pieces of glass that were probably on the ground, you had only one focus: obey. Your fingers found your clit and you started rubbing rapidly, moaning against the phone.

“You sound so sweet, good damn it. I knew you’d be perfect,” his words meant nothing and all at the same time, your inside twisting and turning as your pussy contracted over nothing, making you whine and beg. “I know, love, I know.” You could hear him breathing hard, the powder probably affecting him too, and with each movement of his wings you could feel him getting closer.

The second your window opened with a big crash, you were begging for him and he was falling to his knees next to the table, not caring about the glass, grabbing your ankles and pulling your legs as far apart as possible. He set his big body between them, his wings so wide and soft you felt the tickle against your knees when he pushed your legs over his shoulders.

The first contact of his tongue against your tender flesh feels like lightning hitting your body. And it only turned better when his dexterous tongue found your clit. He ate you out like a starving monster, fucking in and out of your pussy with his forked tongue until you were screaming his name and asking for more. More. More.

You came in less than two minutes, with his fingers pressing against your G-spot and your brain turning into jelly inside your head. It was so much and so little at the same time. You needed more. You needed him inside of you in any way you could. You pushed your torso up, pulling your legs off his shoulders and shoved his chest back until he was a few feet back. You jumped off the table, not even feeling the tiny glasses on the ground as you walked over them.

It was like your orgasm only made you hornier, more desperate, you needed him more than you needed your next breath. “Let me suck you off, please, please…” You begged, your eyes fixated on his dick straining against his pants.

You fumbled with the zipper, and he helped you, looking at you with such tenderness that your heart was about to explore out of your chest. But first: dick.

“Okay, love. Okay. Whatever you want. You can do whatever you want to me.” His words sounded like a promise, and your brain was so fuzzy you could only nod as you fell to your knees. “Open up,” he ordered, taking himself on his hand and caressing your cheek with the other. He fed you his cock and you swallowed it down greedily. “That’s it, such a good witch for me, such a pretty mouth wrapped around my shaft. Fuck, do that again.”

You rolled your tongue over his head, pressing against the underside where you knew he was most sensitive. That cupid anatomy book coming in handy when you were wrapping your hand at his base and squeezing until you felt the ridges inside move. He cursed over you, his hand grabbing your hair so harshly you felt the tiny spikes of pain, but that only made you moan louder around him.

He cursed again, telling you nonsense as he moved his dick in and out of your mouth slightly. “Fuck, your mouth, love. You are perfect. You are so good to me. I’ve been wanting to have you like this forever. Good goddess, your mouth.” You grabbed his ass, trying to get him closer, further down your throat, but he stopped you. “None of that, I… I need you. I need to be inside of you. After that you can play with me all you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” your voice was airy and low, and without a doubt you knew your whole body was pink all over.

He helped you to your feet, claiming your mouth in a brain melting kiss before grabbing your ass and helping you back onto the table. His fingers found your pussy at the same time he positioned himself on your opening. “You are so wet, fuck.” He pushed the tip inside, and you were indeed so wet he slipped right in.

He cursed in so many languages you weren’t sure how many words he said, but you were in heaven. You reached Valhalla or whatever other heaven there existed out there. All at once. None at all… You touched the stars and came back to your body when he moved his hips back, pushing right back in and drawing a scream out of your lungs.

And then there was no more playing, only frantic fucking and dirty words.

“Do you like me, love? Do you like the feel of my cock inside of you? Do you like when I say dirty things to you?” You shivered, nodding frantically as you rolled your hips, chasing some of the pleasure he was promising you with his thrusts. “Of course you do, you love to be fucked this hard, this fast… You never had it so good, did you? None of your stupid boyfriends was as good as me. Say it.”

“None were… None as good as you…” Your voice was trembling, his thrusts too fast and harsh, but you couldn’t complain. You wouldn’t. It was that good.

“I know darling, I know nobody was as good as me. But you didn’t let me tell you that, did you? You were always with one or another, never enough time for me to fuck you as you deserved. To treat you as you deserve. To make you fucking mine,” he punctuated each word with a hard thrust that hit right over your G-spot, sending sparks of desire and pleasure to your brain until you were drooling over the table. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me you don’t like me like that and I’ve been pining over you for nothing,” his anger was palpable in each thrust of his hips inside your pussy, his ridges undulating and massaging you from the inside.

“I CAN’T. I CAN’T. YOU ARE RIGHT!” You screamed as another wave of pleasure washes over your body.

But he wasn’t listening to you, he was too focused on his actions, on driving you insane. “You can’t because you like me. You’ve liked me as long as I’ve liked you and you’ve been denying us both. For what? For some flimsy human dick? No more, love. You don’t go back to anyone else anymore. You. Are. Mine. To. Please.”

“Yours. Yours. Yours…”

And then there’s fireworks behind your eyelids and your brain is short circuiting. You could barely hold your body up as he expanded his dick inside of you, the cupid trick of locking inside your tight pussy was multiplied by a thousand because of the pink dust, and you could only scream silently as he bred you to the brim and your vision turned white behind your eyelids.

You came back to your body resting over his chest, the soft feathers tickling your cheek as you looked down at his wet dick, still half hard. Your body still craved him, and you were about to act on it when he said: “For what’s worth… I really like you like that, too, love,” he whispered against your sweaty forehead, his breathing labored as his dick twitched in your line of sight.

You threw a leg over his middle, rubbing your still dripping pussy over his dick. “Prove it.”

And he did.

(He was also true to his promise to leave you leaking and bred from every single hole, but that’s a story for another day...)

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."

Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.

He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!

Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!

The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.

"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."

Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.

His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.

The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.

He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.

"Do you truly want to marry this man?"

It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.

Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."

Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.

"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"

Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.

Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.

"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."

Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.

He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.

You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.

Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."

TREY CLOVER

"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."

He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.

So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.

All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.

"Trey?"

He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.

"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.

Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.

He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."

Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."

You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."

He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.

Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."

Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."

He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.

Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."

You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.

"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."

Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.

You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.

"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"

Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."

Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."

CATER DIAMOND

"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"

There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.

His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.

If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!

Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.

"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.

"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.

"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"

You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.

Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"

A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.

You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.

You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."

Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.

"Prove it."

Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.

"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."

Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.

"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"

You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.

He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.

Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.

Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.

And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.

"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.

"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.

"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"

Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.

"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"

DEUCE SPADE

"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"

Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.

He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.

"Deuce!"

He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.

"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.

"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.

Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."

Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.

"But I love her!"

You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.

"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"

You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.

He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.

"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."

Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.

It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.

By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.

You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."

He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.

You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.

And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.

"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."

Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.

This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!

A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.

Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.

"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."

You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.

Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"

The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.

"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"

"HEY!"

Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.

Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.

As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.

You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.

Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.

Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.

When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.

It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.

"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"

You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"

There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"

Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.

"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.

"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.

"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“never thought you’d ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: How to Escape a Kingdom || Silver

You get isekai’d as the heroine in a bad novel. The prince is awful. The villainess is worse. The only thing keeping you going is your gorgeous, tired fiancé, Silver.

Series Masterlist

You prided yourself on being a good friend. A great friend, even. The kind of friend who remembered birthdays, hyped up questionable outfit choices, and provided alibis without asking too many questions. But as you stared at the abomination that was your best friend’s first novel, you began to reconsider your life choices.

The book sat in your lap like a lead weight, its aggressively pastel cover mocking you with every passing second. You had read it. You had survived it. But at what cost?

It had started as a simple enough premise: Silver, Duke of the North, was engaged to the heroine. A heroine so naively pure that if someone told her oxygen was a scam, she’d hold her breath until she passed out. The main villains were the neglected fifth prince and his fiancée, the villainess.

The villainess wanted Silver, but Silver wanted nothing to do with her. The fifth prince wanted the heroine, but the heroine, lacking two functional brain cells to rub together, had no idea what was going on.

And then things went completely off the rails.

Somehow, in a sequence of events that you were still trying to understand, Silver got shipped off to an unwinnable war and promptly died. The villainess mysteriously vanished (???), and then—without explanation—the heroine and the prince got married. The end.

You closed the book with the slow, deliberate movements of someone trying not to hurl it through a window. You inhaled deeply. You exhaled through your nose like a dragon trying not to incinerate a village.

You placed the book on the table.

Then you pressed your forehead against the table and contemplated your existence.

Tomorrow, you had to meet your best friend. You had to look them in the eye and tell them what you thought. You had to lie. Or worse—tell the truth.

You did not want to do this.

You needed divine intervention. A bolt of lightning, a sudden coma, a wormhole opening up beneath your feet.

As you walked to their house the next day, still praying for salvation, the universe finally answered.

Unfortunately, it did so in the form of a feral, airborne raccoon.

You were minding your own business, walking past a trashcan, when—BAM. A raccoon launched itself at you with the force of a caffeinated cryptid. There was no warning. No time to react. Just a blur of fur and the sheer weight of your sins crashing into your face.

Startled, you screamed, stumbled, and in a tragic display of physics and poor life choices, tumbled backwards—directly into the trashcan.

The lid snapped shut.

You flailed. You kicked. You thought, Wow, this is really happening, huh?

Then, to add insult to injury, the trashcan began to roll.

With you inside it.

You careened down the street, a human burrito of garbage and regret, before hitting a curb at just the right angle to be yeeted violently into the air.

There was a moment—just a moment—where time slowed, and you thought, Well. At least I don’t have to tell them anymore.

You woke up with that distinct, gnawing feeling that something was off.

It wasn’t the usual I forgot to send an email kind of off. No, this was the I am in the wrong dimension kind of off.

First of all, the bed was too big. Not just luxurious hotel big, but dear God, am I a Victorian orphan who got adopted by a morally gray billionaire? big.

Second, the air smelled clean. Not the comforting, familiar scent of your slightly questionable apartment, where the air carried the faint traces of instant ramen and the existential despair of adulthood.

Third—why was there noise?

You lived alone. The only other living creature that occasionally graced your presence was that one cockroach you had an unspoken truce with. So unless Mr. Roach had recently acquired sentience and thrown himself a rager, someone else was here.

Panic kicked in. You bolted upright, turned your head—this was absolutely not your home.

The walls were pristine. The curtains looked expensive. There was a vanity table. The entire place screamed old money, like the kind of place where people casually owned oil paintings of their ancestors who may or may not have committed tax fraud.

You shot out of bed so fast you nearly concussed yourself on the nearest piece of furniture. Your feet hit the floor. You sprinted to the mirror, skidded to a stop, and—

Oh.

Oh no.

Staring back at you was a person. A person you knew. A person whose entire personality consisted of:

Being impossibly, devastatingly naïve.

Trusting people so fast she’d probably accept a drink labeled 'Not Poison' because "surely no one would lie about that."

Having the observational skills of a decorative cactus.

You were the heroine.

A low, horrified whimper escaped your throat. You sank to the floor, trembling hands pressing into your face.

This was a nightmare. A cruel joke. A divine punishment for every time you had talked smack about the heroine’s IQ in your past life.

The girl who had the critical thinking skills of a potato. The girl whose brain you had long suspected was running exclusively on the Baby Shark song on loop.

And now you were her.

You exhaled shakily, pressing your forehead against the cool floor.

You had survived death. You had defied the natural order.

And for what?

To be reincarnated as a human goldfish with no object permanence?

You were going to die.

Again.

Before you could shake your fist at the heavens and demand an explanation for your untimely demise (courtesy of an overly aggressive raccoon and an unfortunately placed trash can), you needed to do what all great strategists did when thrown into an unwinnable situation: panic internally while pretending you had a plan.

You knew this story. You knew its plot holes were deeper than a budget dungeon crawl, and its character motivations made less sense than a pigeon with a degree in economics. But you had an advantage—foreknowledge. And by the gods, you were going to use it.

The first step? Establishing yourself as Not an Idiot™.

The second step? Ensuring you did not, under any circumstances, end up falling for the fifth prince’s brand of bootleg romantic villainy.

The third step? Avoiding an untimely death like the last protagonist (RIP Silver, Duke of the North, gone but never forgotten).

With this sacred checklist in mind, you marched outside, determined to assert control over your fate—

—only to be immediately ambushed by a squadron of highly trained maids who descended upon you like a swarm of fabric-wielding locusts.

You barely had time to register their presence before you were stripped, perfumed, corseted, and shoved into an outfit so elaborate that it probably required its own construction permit. There were lace trimmings, unnecessary bows, and a pair of shoes so polished you could see your rapidly growing sense of existential dread reflected in them.

You were officially trapped in Victorian Dress-Up Hell.

And then, as if things couldn’t get worse, you were dragged straight to breakfast with your fiancé.

Now, normally, this would be the part where you started screaming. But then you remembered who your fiancé was.

Silver. Duke of the North. The only well-written character in the entire dumpster fire of a novel. A man of honor, competence, and stunning good looks.

Stunning good looks?

That was putting it lightly.

The moment you walked into the dining room, you had to physically stop yourself from gasping like some sort of Victorian maiden experiencing her first bout of hysteria.

Because dear gods above and below—how was he even prettier than his book illustration?!

This was unfair. Illegal. You wanted to file a formal complaint to whatever divine entity was responsible for sculpting this man.

His eyes were closed, silver lashes resting against his cheeks, and you thought—if Sleeping Beauty ever existed, this would be him. A prince of ethereal beauty, untouched by the sins of the world.

And then his eyes fluttered open, revealing a shade that can only be described as 'auroral', and you had to actively bite the inside of your cheek to avoid making a noise so embarrassing that you would have to immediately fake your own death to escape the consequences.

Silver, unaware of your minor cardiac event, blinked at you in mild surprise before rising to pull out your chair. Like a gentleman. Like a man raised with actual etiquette.

Oh. Oh, you were in danger.

Swallowing down the entirely inappropriate reaction threatening to burst forth, you sat down and focused on eating. Silver, as always, was polite and composed, and just when you thought you could make it through breakfast without incident—

He mentioned the prince and the villainess were visiting today.

You must have made a face because he immediately looked concerned. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You usually enjoy their visits.”

Ah. Right. The original heroine was an idiot who thought being terrorized by a manipulative prince with daddy issues and a deranged villainess was fun.

You plastered on your best "I am absolutely thrilled" smile and forced out a chipper, “I can’t wait.”

Silver, bless his soul, nodded.

Internally, you were already constructing an elaborate plan to ensure that the prince got the message loud and clear: you were NOT interested.

And if that involved metaphorically throwing him off a metaphorical cliff?

Well. You had no objections.

The moment the Fifth Prince and the Villainess walked into the room, you instinctively tightened your grip on Silver’s sleeve like a soldier preparing for war. Because that’s exactly what this was—a battle. A battle of wits, patience, and trying very hard not to start swinging the nearest porcelain teapot.

The prince, in all his bootleg Casanova glory, approached first, his slick hair practically radiating the arrogance of a man who had never been told “no” in his entire life. His regal posture was flawless, his smirk expertly practiced in front of a mirror for at least five hours a day, and his eyes held the glint of a man who truly believed women were won like prizes at a rigged carnival game.

He reached for your hand, expecting you to giggle like a brainless debutante and let him hold it for an amount of time that was definitely pushing social norms.

Instead, you gripped his hand like a corporate executive about to close a high-stakes business deal. One firm shake. Then, for good measure, you slapped him on the back with the solid force of a man congratulating his buddy on a promotion.

“Good to see you, pal,” you said, voice brimming with friendly aggression.

The prince, visibly malfunctioning, blinked. “I—”

But you were already moving, looping your arm through Silver’s and pressing close to his side like you were the world’s most affectionate barnacle.

Silver, bless his chivalrous heart, barely hesitated before holding your hand firmly in return, his grip warm and steady. You had to physically restrain yourself from letting out a deranged, victorious giggle at the look on the prince’s face. He was staring at your interlocked hands like someone had just stolen his dessert plate right in front of him.

Oh, what a shame. What a tragedy. You almost felt bad.

Almost.

Then came the villainess.

She strutted forward, all sharp smiles and predatory grace, her heavily perfumed presence announcing itself like a nuclear bomb made of floral overkill. Without hesitation, she reached for Silver’s arm, her movements slow, deliberate—

Silver, in response, immediately took a step back like she had just pulled out a vial labeled “Highly Contagious Disease—Do Not Touch.”

You had never respected a man more in your life.

With the efficiency of someone handling a customer complaint, you smoothly stepped between them and took her hand instead. One quick shake—firm, professional, just detached enough to say I acknowledge you exist but not in any way that brings me joy.

She stared at you, visibly seething, like a cat that had just been denied access to the good couch.

Behind you, Silver sighed in such obvious relief that you were pretty sure you just secured a place in his will.

Tea time was, predictably, a disaster.

The prince kept attempting to flirt with you, hitting you with lines so cringeworthy that they could legally be classified as psychological warfare. Every time he tried, you shot him down with the efficiency of a seasoned HR manager rejecting an office romance scandal.

Meanwhile, the villainess was shamelessly trying to touch Silver, leaning in with the dramatic flair of a woman in a period drama who had just found out she had two months to live. Silver, for his part, looked two seconds away from either falling asleep or astral projecting out of sheer discomfort.

By the time they finally left, you had experienced the emotional equivalent of running a full marathon while being chased by geese.

Silver, apparently just as exhausted, slumped onto you like a marionette whose strings had just been brutally severed.

You sat there, unmoving, staring at the top of his head like you had just been gifted an extremely delicate and beautiful artifact. His silver hair was soft, his breathing slow and steady, and—

Oh. You were in danger again.

Future plans. Right. Focus.

You sat there, contemplating your next move like a war general preparing for battle. Clearly, Operation I Am Not Interested, Your Highness was off to a strong start. But you needed a long-term strategy. A game plan. A—

Silver stirred.

You glanced down, just in time to see his eyes flutter open, confusion evident in the soft furrow of his brow. Then he blinked. Looked around. Realized he was half-sprawled across your lap.

A deep red blush spread across his face like ink soaking into parchment. “I—I’m so sorry—”

You, feeling absolutely no shame about using this opportunity to appreciate just how stunning this man was, smiled. “It’s okay.”

Silver looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and never return.

And as you gazed at him—this rare creature of beauty and genuine kindness, blushing like he was the maiden in distress—you thought, It has to be illegal to be this pretty AND nice.

And then, in true romantic fashion, you immediately started plotting ways to keep him as far away from the main plot as possible

You had, to put it simply, absolutely nothing to do.

After successfully fending off the Fifth Prince’s attempts at romance and blocking the Villainess like a medieval goalie, your schedule was depressingly empty. No political meetings. No noble drama. Just you, a very comfortable chair, and the creeping existential dread of living inside a book with a plot so brain-cell-depleting that it should come with a warning label.

So, naturally, you decided to go watch Silver train.

And damn.

You thought you were prepared. You really did. But watching Silver train was a completely different beast from reading about it in the novel.

The way his sword cut through the air? Poetry.

The way his muscles flexed as he parried and countered? Divine artistry.

The way he casually knocked his opponents to the ground while offering them helpful advice like, “You left your right side open. Try shifting your stance” as if he hadn’t just folded them like cheap laundry? Criminal.

You found yourself wishing for one of those tiny opera glasses so you could watch this in HD. Maybe even a chaise lounge so you could dramatically swoon at the appropriate moments.

But you settled for the next best thing—sitting with a cold bottle of water, pretending you weren’t staring at him like an awestruck peasant witnessing a deity descend from the heavens.

Silver eventually noticed your presence and, being the kind soul that he was, immediately came over. Probably to check if you were in distress because, let’s be honest, the original heroine never did anything without needing someone’s help five minutes later.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, eyes filled with genuine concern.

You blinked. “Nope. Just brought you this.”

You handed him the water, and— oh. Oh, wow. Was he blushing?

“I—thank you,” Silver said, taking the bottle with a kind of stunned hesitation, as if no one had ever done something nice for him before. Which, honestly, in this novel? Entirely possible.

“Well, since you’re bored,” he continued, after taking a drink, “would you like to take a walk around town?”

You nodded. Because, really, what else were you going to do? Stare at a wall? Accidentally trigger a romance flag with the prince by breathing in his general direction? No, thank you.

The town was bustling. People were selling overpriced trinkets, children were running around with the manic energy of creatures that had never paid taxes, and the smell of fresh bread filled the air.

You were browsing a suspiciously glittery hat stall when you saw it—a tiny fortune-telling booth, tucked between a bakery and a store selling the kind of weapons that definitely weren’t legally registered.

“Want to check that out?” you asked Silver, jerking your head toward the booth.

Silver, because he was down for anything as long as it didn’t involve unnecessary drama, nodded.

The fortune teller was exactly what you expected. Mysterious robes? Check. Hood obscuring half their face? Check. A table full of random, ominous objects? Check. A single, gnarled hand that slowly reached out the moment you sat down? Horrifying, but also check.

“Your fate is… twisting.” The fortune teller’s voice was dramatic, like they got paid per cryptic sentence. “You must learn to change your destiny. And… most importantly… you must learn how to say no.”

You and Silver exchanged looks.

“…Huh?”

The fortune teller did not elaborate. They simply leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

Well. That was unhelpful.

You both stood up, ready to leave when—

“Oh,” the fortune teller added, just as you were stepping out. “Good luck with your romance.”

You and Silver froze.

The air became so thick with tension that you could probably cut it with one of the overpriced swords from earlier.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you made eye contact.

Silver, visibly flustered, stared very hard at a distant fruit stand.

You, on the other hand, suddenly found a deep, profound interest in the cobblestone street, as if it held the answers to life’s mysteries.

The entire walk home was excruciating. Not because of anything bad—no, because your brains were both melting from sheer secondhand embarrassment.

Every time your hands almost brushed, one of you would jolt like you’d been electrocuted.

At one point, Silver cleared his throat awkwardly.

At another, you tripped on absolutely nothing and had to pretend it didn’t happen.

By the time you got back, you were convinced that the fortune teller wasn’t actually magical, just a professional-level troll who lived for drama.

And you, unfortunately, had walked straight into it.

It was a perfectly peaceful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and for once, you weren’t being subjected to the medieval drama equivalent of a telenovela.

So, naturally, fate decided to drop-kick that peace into the sun.

One moment, you were lounging in the garden, enjoying the fleeting calm, and the next—

A shadow descended upon you. Something small, fast, and full of chaotic energy launched itself from the goddamn sky.

You barely had time to react before you were two inches away from seeing God again.

By some miracle (or the sheer will of your survival instincts), you managed to not die as a tiny, incredibly energetic man landed in front of you, grinning like he hadn’t just almost assassinated you with his entrance.

“Oops!” he chirped, not looking apologetic at all. “Did I scare you?”

Scare you? Sir, you had aged ten years and seen your life flash before your eyes like a badly edited PowerPoint presentation.

“Who—” you gasped, still processing your near-death experience, “—who are you?”

The menace placed a hand on his chest, dramatic as hell. “Nice to meet you, future daughter-in-law!”

Oh. Oh.

So this was Silver’s dad.

You had to take a moment. Because one—this man did not look like anyone’s dad. He looked like someone’s mischievous younger brother who steals your socks and sets them on fire for fun. And two—Silver was so calm and gentle and responsible.

How?

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN??

Genetics had to be playing 4D chess.

But you quickly discovered that while Lilia was absolutely, certifiably insane, he was also hilarious.

So, like any normal people, you both immediately started talking mad shit about the Fifth Prince and the Villainess.

“Can you believe,” you huffed, sipping your tea like an 18th-century noble gossiping at a ball, “that the Prince keeps trying to flirt with me in front of Silver? In public? With witnesses?”

Lilia cackled. “That boy has no shame. And his fiancée—gods above, she has the personality of a spoon.”

You nearly choked on your tea. “RIGHT?? And she keeps trying to touch Silver like he’s a limited-edition collectible.”

Lilia grinned. “Well, he is handsome.”

“Yeah, but he’s not touchable handsome. He’s look from afar and cry a little handsome.”

“Ah, so you cry when you look at him?”

“…I— I feel like I’m being entrapped by my own words.”

“What are you two talking about?”

You both turned to see Silver standing there, looking… confused.

You, ever the graceful conversationalist, froze like you had been caught committing treason.

Lilia, on the other hand, looked positively delighted.

“Oh, just talking about our beloved Crown Prince,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm so thick you could butter toast with it.

Silver blinked. His eyes slowly drifted to you.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Your dad and I were just bonding over our deep, mutual hatred.”

There was a pause. And then—

Silver smiled.

Not just any smile. A pleased smile. The kind of smile you’d expect from a man who just found out his worst enemy stepped on a rake.

Which. Well.

Considering the Crown Prince was his worst enemy, that checked out.

Unfortunately, the moment of camaraderie didn’t last.

Because Lilia, with the delight of someone about to ruin your entire month, dropped a bombshell.

“Oh, by the way,” he said casually, like he wasn’t about to wreck your day, “war is brewing. The Prince wants Silver to go to the front lines.”

You stopped breathing.

Your blood turned to ice.

The original heroine had been all for it—saying some nonsense about how it was the right thing to do and how Silver should go save lives.

You?

You were NOT that kind of saint.

You were going to beg.

You were going to grovel.

You were going to throw yourself onto the ground like a soccer player faking an injury if you had to.

Silver was NOT going to war.

Lilia was watching you now, a knowing smile on his face.

You were too busy plotting your fiancé’s survival to care.

You had barely finished your morning tea when trouble arrived at your doorstep, wrapped in a cloak of audacity and bad financial decisions.

See, apparently, the previous owner of your body had the charitable sense of a malfunctioning Roomba. She’d give money to anything that sounded remotely good. Orphanage? Sure! Rehabilitation center? Fantastic! An organization claiming to rescue drowning fish? Take all of it.

And now, since you had not been throwing bags of gold at questionable "charities" like a medieval Jeff Bezos with a conscience, someone had come personally to shake you down.

The man standing in front of you was the exact type of person who looked like he belonged in a back alley deal gone wrong. He had the thin mustache of a man who thought twirling it made him look menacing and the beady eyes of someone who’d absolutely try to sell you "magic beans" at a 500% markup.

"You!" he sneered, pointing a bony finger at you like he was about to curse your entire bloodline. "Why have you ceased your donations to the Sacred Order of the Benevolent Fish Saviors? Do you not care for the plight of the aquatic brethren?"

You stared at him, unblinking.

“…Are you seriously trying to convince me that fish can drown?”

"The oceans are a dangerous place!" he snapped, voice thick with righteous fury. "Only the kindhearted can understand the delicate balance of aquatic life—”

"Alright, shut up." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "No more money. Get a real job. Touch some grass. Read a book that isn’t written by con artists."

You thought that would be the end of it. Oh, how wrong you were.

Because instead of groveling like any normal scam artist when their grift gets cut off, this man decided to take the most insane course of action possible—he lunged at you.

Now, let’s get one thing straight. You were ready to commit a crime. Your 4-inch heels were locked, loaded, and prepared to introduce themselves to his ribcage. But you didn’t even get the chance.

Because before you could react, something blurred at the edge of your vision—

CRACK.

The next thing you knew, the man was frozen in place, his wrist locked in an iron grip, and standing beside you was Silver.

Silver, who you hadn’t even noticed entering the room.

Silver, whose grip looked firm enough to end generations.

Silver, who just made a grown man sound like a dying accordion.

The scammer wheezed, his face rapidly losing color as he tried and failed to wrench himself free.

Silver’s expression? Calm. Unbothered. Serene, even. Like he hadn’t just manhandled this guy into an early retirement.

“…I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attack my fiancée,” Silver said, voice so polite that it somehow made everything ten times more terrifying.

You blinked. You could physically hear the bones in the scammer’s arm considering a career change.

Silver finally let go—shoving him toward the door like he was disposing of a particularly annoying mosquito. The man stumbled out, barely managing to stay upright, and within seconds, he was sprinting off the property like the devil himself was on his heels.

When Silver turned back to you, he looked almost sheepish. "…Sorry you had to see that," he murmured. "I don’t usually act like that in front of others."

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Because what were you supposed to say to that?

“Oh no, Silver, that was awful. Truly terrible. In fact, I definitely did not find it insanely attractive when you nearly broke a man’s wrist for me.”

Yeah, no way in hell were you admitting that.

Instead, you just smiled, folding your hands neatly in front of you. "No, no, it’s fine. No need to apologize."

Silver still looked vaguely guilty. You, meanwhile, were trying very hard to resist the urge to start giggling like a schoolgirl.

Because holy shit.

Was it legal to be this attractive AND chivalrous?

If Silver kept this up, you were going to have a serious problem.

The ball was grand, elegant, and, most importantly, the single biggest waste of your time since you once spent two hours watching a documentary about the history of forks.

You had already resigned yourself to being bored out of your mind when Lilia swooped in like the guardian angel you never asked for and dragged you to a shadowy corner of the ballroom. This was, according to him, the best place to engage in the most sacred of all noble pastimes—people-watching and ruthless judgment.

And what a show it was.

"Oh, oh, look at that one!" Lilia cackled, nearly doubling over as he pointed at a woman who had, in a bold and truly ill-advised move, decided to wear a dress that looked like a monochrome cake. "She looks like she repurposed a funeral veil!"

You took a sip of your drink and nearly spit it out. "Lilia, that dress has committed war crimes against fashion."

"The ruffles! The sleeves! It’s like someone asked themselves, ‘How do I make this look as unflattering as possible?’ and then succeeded beyond their wildest dreams," he added.

You continued this noble pursuit for a solid fifteen minutes, giggling over outfits that defied both reason and taste. The two of you had just started critiquing a man who looked like he had raided a circus wardrobe when your night took a dramatic turn for the worse. The prince—His Royal Unwantedness—had spotted you.

You watched in horror as he began striding over, each step dripping with the unearned confidence of a man who had never been told "absolutely not" in his entire life except by his father. This was a man who probably thought women fainted at the mere sight of him when, in reality, they were most likely collapsing from secondhand embarrassment.

Lilia’s expression shifted instantly. The usual mischievous twinkle in his eyes vanished, replaced by something cold and sharp. He looked ready to commit several crimes, and you were tempted to let him.

But no. You were mature. You were reasonable. You were absolutely about to handle this like a professional.

So you winked at Lilia and whispered, "Relax. I got this."

The prince didn’t bother with pleasantries when he arrived, because of course he didn’t. "Dance with me," he said, because why waste time on politeness when you can just issue demands like a badly written romance villain?

You took his hand with a practiced, polite smile. "Of course, Your Highness," you said sweetly, the verbal equivalent of setting a trap and waiting for him to fall right in.

The dance started off normally enough. The prince led you across the ballroom, his movements controlled and graceful. Unfortunately, any illusion of elegance was immediately ruined by the fact that he would not stop staring at you. Not in the way Silver did, all soft and careful, but like he was trying to figure out if you were edible.

"You seem different tonight," he said, voice oozing with forced charm. "More… confident."

You forced out a laugh that you hoped conveyed the exact right amount of fake amusement. "And you seem exactly the same, Your Highness."

If he noticed the insult, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he pulled you just a little closer. That was his first mistake.

His second mistake came when his hand decided to wander lower than what was remotely appropriate.

Your reaction was immediate. You didn’t even think—your knee just shot up with the force of divine judgment.

And oh, what a glorious moment it was.

The prince let out a strangled sound somewhere between a dying peacock and a man realizing all his hopes and dreams had just been shattered. He crumpled like a marionette with cut strings, collapsing into himself as the entire ballroom fell into stunned silence.

For one perfect, breathtaking moment, nobody spoke.

Then you gasped dramatically, placing a delicate hand over your mouth like the very picture of innocent devastation. "Oh my goodness!" you exclaimed, voice laced with the perfect amount of fake concern. "I was simply startled when you touched me there! I had no idea you were so close!"

The Empress, who had been watching this whole scene unfold with the same expression one might wear when realizing their soup had a cockroach in it, took a single look at her son, let out a long, exhausted sigh, and then turned on her heel and left the ballroom. She didn’t even glance back.

Somewhere behind you, Lilia was laughing so hard he had to physically clutch a pillar for support.

Before you could bask in your triumph, a warm, familiar presence appeared at your side.

Silver.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, still recovering from the sheer joy of watching the prince—His Royal Lowness— collapse like a sandcastle at high tide. "I’m fine," you assured him.

Silver, ever thorough, scanned you with a careful gaze, double-checking for any signs of distress. Apparently satisfied, he slowly turned his attention to the prince, who was still on the floor making noises that sounded vaguely like whimpering.

Silver’s face remained neutral, but the sheer force of his glare was something otherworldly. You were surprised the prince hadn’t just spontaneously combusted on the spot.

Lilia sauntered up beside you and, with the most casual nonchalance in the world, lifted his hand and gave you a perfectly subtle high-five.

Falling in love with Silver was not something you had planned for. It wasn’t even something you had remotely considered, because falling for a fictional character—even one brought to life by the absurdity of your existence—was stupid.

And yet, here you were. Doomed.

It had started subtly, like a slow-acting poison. You’d watch him train and catch yourself admiring the way he moved, graceful and disciplined, like a warrior from some epic tale.

Then it got worse. A white bunny hopping through the garden? That looks like Silver. A particularly stunning sunset, lilac and soft? Those are Silver’s eyes. A suspiciously sharp knife on the dinner table? Silver has a sharp sword.

There was no escape. The entire world had transformed into a living scrapbook of Silver-Themed Hallucinations, and it was ruining you.

You couldn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, there he was—standing under the moonlight, holding your hand, looking at you like you were something precious. It was unbearable.

Which brought you to now.

You were sitting at a tea party, drowning in a state of sleep deprivation so severe that you were genuinely considering just face-planting into your teacup and accepting whatever fate awaited you. The sunlight was too bright, the air was too floral, and the pastries tasted like nothing. Everything sucked.

And then, because the universe hated you, the villainess approached.

She had the smug, self-satisfied look of someone who had never had a single original thought in her life. "Oh dear," she said, voice dripping with saccharine mockery, "you look absolutely dreadful today. Has your precious Duke been keeping you up all night?"

Usually, you would have handled this with grace. A snide remark, a well-placed jab, maybe even an eyeroll so dramatic it would have sent you into another timeline.

But not today.

Today, you were tired.

Today, you were grappling with a full-scale emotional crisis.

Today, you had reached your limit.

So, instead of responding like a rational, civilized person, you calmly reached for the nearest cup of juice, lifted it with all the dignity of a noblewoman, and threw it directly at her face.

The liquid splashed over her dress, staining the expensive fabric a deep, unforgiving red.

Silence. Absolute silence.

Her mouth opened, presumably to shriek, but you were not done.

Before she could get a word out, you grabbed her by the collar, yanking her forward so she could fully comprehend the depths of your unholy exhaustion.

"The next time you run your mouth," you said, voice dangerously low, "you might just end up meeting God."

Her eyes widened in pure, unfiltered terror.

Oh, but you weren’t finished. You gave her collar a final, dramatic tug. "And keep your hands off my fiancé."

Then, with the grandeur of a war general who had just claimed victory, you released her, turned on your heel, and stormed out.

Silver, who had witnessed everything, stared at you as though you had just set the entire kingdom on fire.

You grabbed his wrist, ignoring the way he flinched in bewilderment, and dragged him out with you.

You didn’t stop until you were safely inside the carriage, away from prying eyes, and only then did you collapse onto the seat, pressing your hands against your face.

Silver sat beside you, still looking utterly shell-shocked. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, clearly struggling to form a single coherent thought.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowly reached for your hand. His touch was warm, steady—like an anchor. "What’s wrong?" he asked softly.

And that was it. The last thread of your restraint snapped.

Before you could even think about stopping yourself, you turned to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

It was immediate. There was no hesitation, no moment of confusion. Silver kissed you back like he had been waiting for this his whole life. His hands moved to cradle your face, gentle but firm, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You didn’t know how long it lasted—time had ceased to exist—but when you finally pulled away, your heart was a mess.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment crush you. "I love you," you admitted, voice raw. "And I have been suffering."

Silver’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. Then, with a sudden, almost breathless laugh, he leaned in again. "I love you too," he murmured against your lips, "so much."

And then he kissed you again.

Take that, villainess.

There were many things you did not want to deal with first thing in the morning.

A war? Absolutely not.

A war involving Silver? Somebody was going to die.

You groaned as you dragged yourself out of bed at the noise downstairs, feeling like a corpse being forced to participate in capitalism. You stomped downstairs, barely managing to keep yourself upright, and immediately regretted existing.

Silver was already in the living room, arms crossed, looking about two seconds away from snapping someone’s spine in half like a stale breadstick. Lilia, usually a walking cryptid with an unshakable grin, looked like he was holding back every unholy thought in his mind just for the sake of his son’s sanity.

And then. Them.

The Prince. The Villainess. The living embodiments of tax fraud and emotional instability.

Oh, hell no.

You grabbed the nearest maid, who was visibly vibrating with fear, and whispered, "What’s happening?"

She gulped. "T-The Prince is trying to send His Grace to lead the war."

Your soul ascended.

Your patience evaporated.

You had not suffered through an isekai, navigated 18th-century nonsense, and fallen head over heels for your incredibly hot and kind fiancé just for him to be thrown into a battlefield meat grinder because some discount royal didn’t want to risk his own cowardly neck.

You stormed across the room like a woman possessed, and the moment the Prince saw you, his whole face lit up—because he thought you were still the naive airhead he could manipulate into convincing Silver to go die for him.

The Villainess, however? She shrank back immediately.

Maybe it was the murderous glare you were directing at them. Maybe it was because she had witnessed your unhinged wrath firsthand. Maybe it was because deep down, she understood that she was in the presence of a feral raccoon of a person who had already died once and had nothing left to lose.

The Prince reached out to touch your shoulder as if he could physically weasel you onto his side.

Big mistake.

You swatted his hand away so hard you nearly dislocated his wrist.

"No," you said, voice dripping with finality.

The Prince blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Silver’s not going to war." You looked him dead in the eyes. "Try someone else."

Silence.

The Prince’s face twisted into a diplomatic smile. "But, my dear—"

"Do I look like your dear?" You took a step forward, forcing him back. "Silver already said no. The Emperor didn't send a decree, which means you’re just trying to shove him in front of your responsibilities, aren’t you?"

His jaw clenched. "That’s not—"

"Oh, but it is," you cut in, grinning like a predator who just found dinner. "If you need a sacrifice so badly, why not lead the war yourself? Oh, wait—you’re scared." You tilted your head. "Why should Silver go fight and die in your place? What do you contribute to this kingdom besides being the reason the Empress probably drinks herself to sleep?"

Lilia let out a choked laugh. Silver covered his mouth to hide his amusement. The Villainess looked like she wanted to phase out of existence.

"How dare you!" The Prince seethed, looking like a child whose toy had been taken away.

"How dare you?" you mimicked back, voice laced with venomous mockery. "Seriously, just die already. It’s called natural selection. Worms like you don’t deserve to keep reproducing and terrorizing the female population."

The Prince, red with humiliation and rage, looked like he wanted to lunge at you, but before he could humiliate himself further, he turned on his heel and stormed out.

The Villainess trailed after him, but not before giving you a look that was equal parts impressed and terrified.

As soon as they were gone, you turned to Silver and clapped your hands together.

"So," you said, still brimming with unholy energy. "Let’s get married."

Silver, who was still processing the apocalyptic verbal execution you had just delivered, blinked at you. "What?"

You nodded sagely. "Yeah. Immediately. Preferably before they try something else. Then we can go on a honeymoon somewhere far away from all this war nonsense."

Silver stared at you, beautifully confused. "...Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," you replied. "Pack your bags, babe, we’re getting hitched."

Silver, against all odds, smiled. And then, he agreed.

Lilia threw a celebratory punch in the air.

Congratulations. You’re planning a wedding now, baby!

Planning a wedding was supposed to be a stressful but joyous occasion.

Your reality? It was mostly just stress.

Between dodging passive-aggressive nobles, fending off suspiciously enthusiastic tailors, and ensuring that the wedding menu didn’t include anything remotely related to the Prince’s favorite foods out of sheer spite, you were running on fumes.

And that’s when Silver came to you, looking strangely hesitant.

Immediately, your brain went to worst-case scenarios.

Was he having doubts? Did he get conscripted behind your back? Was he about to pull a tragic self-sacrifice move that you’d have to thwart with unhinged levels of devotion and threats of arson?

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice unsure.

You, in full fight-or-flight mode, clutched your chest. "Silver, if you’re about to say something stupid, I’m legally obligated to stop you."

His expression twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether to be exasperated or endeared. "It’s not stupid," he assured you. Then, after a pause, "I wanted to ask… do you like this country?"

You stared at him. Stared.

"Silver." You grabbed both his hands. "Are you joking?"

His gaze softened, but he stayed serious. "If you had the choice, would you leave?"

You blinked. "Why?"

Silver exhaled, his grip on your hands tightening just slightly. "Lilia and I… We lived somewhere else before we came here. I was thinking—if we left, we could live peacefully. Away from all this. We wouldn’t be nobility, but we wouldn’t have to deal with—" He gestured vaguely, as if trying to encompass the entire kingdom’s collective insanity.

And that’s when it hit you.

You could leave. You could actually escape.

You didn’t have to waste your life playing politics in a country where half the nobility was allergic to common sense. You didn’t have to pretend to care about court scandals that made your brain rot. You didn’t have to deal with war-hungry royals who had the intelligence of a damp sock.

You could take your hot, kind, sword-wielding fiancé and dip.

You could live a peaceful, quiet, cottagecore dream where your biggest concerns would be whether the goats ate your laundry or if Silver accidentally adopted another wild animal.

You gripped Silver’s hands so hard you nearly cut off circulation.

"Silver." Your voice shook with emotion. "I love you so much right now."

He blinked, startled by your intensity.

"I’m taking as much wealth as I can from this godforsaken kingdom," you declared, fully committed. "And then we’re running. We’ll live a cozy life, I’ll grow a garden, you can train without political idiots breathing down your neck, and we’ll be so disgustingly in love that Lilia will probably want to leave out of secondhand embarrassment."

Silver stared at you for a beat, lips parting slightly—before he suddenly let out a breathy laugh.

God, he was so beautiful when he smiled.

He cupped your cheek, gaze warm, and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. It was soft, reverent, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You melted, gripping his sleeve to keep yourself from combusting.

When he pulled away, he whispered, "Then that’s it. We’ll get married, and we’ll be free."

And that was that.

You were getting married and escaping these lunatics before they had the chance to retaliate.

Honestly? Best wedding gift ever.

Mornings in your new life were warm, lazy, and sweet— the kind of peace you never thought you’d get after surviving the absolute circus that was your past life.

You stretched with a yawn, shuffled into the kitchen, and started making breakfast. The house smelled of fresh bread, eggs, and domestic bliss.

And then, like clockwork, Silver appeared.

You weren’t sure if he was half-awake or just naturally this clingy, but the second he found you, he wrapped himself around you from behind. His arms encircled your waist, and he rested his chin on your shoulder, pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to your neck.

“Good morning,” he murmured against your skin, voice still husky with sleep.

Weak. You were weak.

“Silver,” you tried to scold, but it came out softer than intended.

He hummed, not moving, not even pretending to be helpful. His weight was solid, grounding, a warm anchor against your back.

"You are actively making this difficult," you sighed, flipping a pancake.

“Difficult to cook?” he asked, his lips brushing over your jaw.

“Difficult to live, Silver. How am I supposed to focus when you’re like this?”

He chuckled, pulling you impossibly closer. “I don’t see the problem.”

And this was your life now.

In the afternoons, Silver trained with Sebek, and you watched, entertained by their very specific brand of friendship.

Sebek was loud, passionate, and dedicated. Silver was calm, level-headed, and tired. Together, they created the strangest dynamic known to man.

“Silver, your form is slipping!” Sebek barked, nearly vibrating with intensity.

Silver deflected Sebek’s attack without even looking. “It’s fine.”

“It is NOT fine!” Sebek yelled, throwing himself forward with the fury of a man who took personal offense to subpar swordsmanship.

You sipped your drink, watching this unfold like it was a very dramatic stage play.

Eventually, Silver knocked Sebek’s sword from his hands with an effortless twist, and Sebek fell to his knees, gasping.

You clapped. “Wow. What a performance. I’d rate it a solid 8/10.”

Sebek looked offended. “8?! What was missing?!”

“More drama,” you said. “Maybe fake your death next time. Really sell the loss.”

Sebek narrowed his eyes, as if actually considering it. Oh no. What have you done?

Lilia showed up almost every day, either to offer unsolicited advice or to cause chaos. Sometimes, he brought Malleus.

You still hadn’t fully recovered from realizing that Malleus was the fae prince.

Today was no different. He arrived grinning, eyes full of mischief, which was already a sign of danger.

“So,” he started, dramatically leaning in. “Have you two considered… adopting a dragon?”

Silver blinked. You stared.

Malleus, sipping his tea beside him, nodded sagely. “It would be an honorable task.”

You set your cup down very, very slowly.

“I—what?” you asked, convinced you misheard.

“A dragon,” Lilia said, as if that explained everything. “You’re living in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nature, why not raise a baby dragon? Imagine the bond! The companionship! The chaos!”

Malleus actually looked excited. “I could grant you one from my own lineage.”

Silver looked at you, waiting for you to react.

You looked at Silver.

Then back at Malleus, a literal fae prince, who had just casually offered to gift you a baby dragon.

Sebek, in the corner, looked like he was about to faint.

“...You’re joking,” you said, voice dangerously neutral.

Lilia and Malleus just smiled.

You dragged your hands down your face. “I barely survived dealing with a corrupt kingdom, now you want me to raise a fire-breathing menace?”

“It wouldn’t breathe fire immediately,” Malleus assured.

“That is not the part I am concerned about.”

Silver, who had been quiet this whole time, actually seemed to be considering it.

You kicked his shin under the table.

He cleared his throat. “I think we should wait.”

Malleus sighed. Lilia just patted your back. “You’ll change your mind.”

Not likely.

But at night? It was just you and Silver.

After a long day of chaos and laughter, you’d collapse onto your shared bed, immediately melting into Silver’s embrace.

He kissed your forehead, soft, lingering. “Tired?”

You sighed happily, nuzzling into his warmth. “Mm. Just happy.”

His arms tightened around you, like he never wanted to let go.

And this was your life now.

Your old country was probably in flames, but who cared? You had love, friendship, and peace.

Silver smiled at you, soft and content. And you thought, Yup. This is it.

Thank my best friend for writing this ridiculous, insane novel.

Who do you wanna see next?

Series Masterlist ; All Masterlists

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Yandere platonic Batfam x

Child Girl scout reader!

Notes: reader is a child in this.

Warnings ⚠️: mentions of kidnap and reader is low class. Not proofread. Please do not judge my girl scout logic I am not a girl scout and have never been one!

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

The manor was as dull as ever lately. The big fancy walls of the place only felt colder as time went on.

Dick had broken up with Kori for the umpteenth time that month and was living at the manor ,or more like mopping at the manor..

On rare occasions Cass would stop by. And if they were very lucky jason would stop by and say hi every now and then.

Bruce was as cold as ever not being able to catch the joker and being behind in alot of meetings.

Duke was frustrated with his over all high-school experiences.

And Cass was pretty sure she was going through a mid life crisis despite her still being young.

Pretty soon Tim would graduate high-school and Bruce new he'd be off to living his own life.

Now damian was still pretty young but he didn't really count for a kid. Atleast not in Bruce's eyes. Damian lacked that child imagination. That childish spark. And bruce will admit he is partially to blame....

But on a particular lucky day they had met you!

Or more like Alfred had met you first. And that began the overly possessive vigilanty family to fall absolutely in love with your cute self!

You were about seven never having been blessed with a high class life but your mama sure did try and give you her best!

You oh! so desperately wanted to be a girl scout!

And who was mother to break your heart and tell you she didn't have the money?

So she worked extra shifts at the hospital. Her being a nurse meant that most of her time she was at the hospital working.

But that never stopped her from dropping you off in some of the richest and hopefully safest neighborhoods in gotham so you could sell your cookies for the girl scouts.

She hated leaving you alone but she just couldn't resist your cute puppy dog eyes as you promised you'd be safe....and she really didn't have time to argue or should she'd be late to work, agian!

So with a kiss on the cheek from you and a smile she left. Leaving you on the richest street in gotham.

Sure being low class in gotham was hard but you never saw it that way. You always tried to be kind.

Because in your mother's words, 'in a world where you can be anything, be kind.'

So kind you were. Even to the stuck up little girl scouts who didn't like you because you were poor.

But you didn't pay them any mind! You loved being a girl scout! The other girls were probably just jealous you sold more cookies then them!

Atleast that's what your mama told you.

You smile and skip your way down the street pulling your wagon full of boxes of cookies behind you.

Walking up to each house with a smile on your face most bought some because how could they deny such a cute thing with chubby cheeks?

Sure they'd probably never eat the cookies from a low class kid but they couldn't find it in their cold, spoiled, hearts to say no to you! (They saw it as charity.)

Finally with your last boxes of cookies you pull your wagon with you as you walk up the long drive way and surprisingly the gate was open!

Stepping up to the big door you knock exactly three times.

Alfred being as confused as ever stops cleaning and checks the cameras only to not spot anyone on the footage.

Hesitatently he begins cleaning playing it off as his ears playing tricks on him. But he hears the knock agian. So he doesn't even bother with the camera.

Opening the front door his harsh gaze immediately softens at the sight of you!

Ofc the cameras wouldn't see you! You were to small to be seen on the ring camera!

Your just so cute with your little sash and badges! And your smiles so bright something that the old butler hasn't seen in a while...a genuine smile.

You have that child like wonder that's still in your eyes and by your little dirty shoes the butler knows you traveled a long way to get here.

"Hello sir. I'm here to offer you some of the best cookies in gotham. Girl scout cookies!" You say with one of the biggest smiles and happiest eyes!

"It's five dollars for a box or two boxes for nine! I only have chocolate chip and blueberry left." You say giving your speech like you've done a million other of times.

But this time it would change your life completely.....

To your complete surprise he hands you a hundred dollar bill and you hesitatently take it giving him your last two boxes.

"I don't have change sir....." You say trying to give him back the money to which he just shakes his head.

"Keep it...as a tip." He says his voice holding no pity like the others.

"Really?" You say your eyes shinning with excitement.

And by seeing your happiness Alfred knows you deserve it. So he nods and you take the old spy by surprise by hugging him.

"Thank you so much!" You say as you pull away jumping on the balls of your feet.

"I'll be back every Saturday to give you a box of cookies until I repay you!" You say skipping off with your wagon in tow.

Alfred looks at you with puzzled look did you not know what recieving a tip meant?

Well he wasn't going to stop you from coming back. Especially as you shoot him your absolutely adorable smile as you walk down the driveway and wave goodbye shouting a cute and kind.

"Have a blessed day!" As you leave.

Have a blessed day....Alfred definitely hasn't heard that in a long time..especially in gotham.

You were definitely diffrent...

But you had kept your word coming back every Saturday at 1pm sharp never missing a Saturday!

And each time Alfred would give you a hundred dollar bill saying it was your tip. And you'd give him a hug and tell him you'll be back every Saturday until you repay him!

Alfred doesn't exactly know what about you made him become so attached to you. Maybe it was your hugs? Or your sweet smile?

Either way he didn't mind because he'd wait by the door at 1pm sharp every Saturday waiting to see you walk down the driveway with your little red wagon and big toothy smile.

Eventually he did learn your name and how old you were and you learned quite a bit about him too.

Until one day the he had gotten so caught up in cleaning the manor he didn't even realize that he was about to miss his favorite part of the week!

There was a knock on the door exactly three times just like there always was on Saturday at 1pm for the past few months.

But this time it wasn't the sweet butler you had come accustomed too. No, now it was a big fancy looking man with blue eyes.

"Hello?" He says his voice much softer then it would look like he'd sound like.

Your puzzled eyes search his looking for your dear friend.

"Hi?" You say as tilt your head still searching for your favorite costumer.

Bruce's eyes take you in... your far to young to be out here alone. Where are your parents? He wants to ask but more importantly who are you looking for?

"I usually come by here at this time....do you know where Mr. pennyworth is?" You say your eyes still searching around for the older man.

Bruce looks at you confused how did you know Alfred? Bruce eyes scan you seeing if your a threat but by the way you nervous fiddle around with it your sash as he continues to look at you he deems that your just a harmless child.

"He's inside...do you want to come see him?" He says his voice now much softer and his eyes aren't as cold as they once were. But you take a step back.

You might have been a kid but you aren't that stupid.

"My mama says I can't go in strangers houses.." You say as you look at him clearly looking for a place to hide.

Bruce nods as he sees your nervous deamor.

"Well I suppose I could bring him out to you." Bruce says and your eyes light up with excitement at the thought of seeing your dear friend agian.

And oh.... how bruce envies the old butler by how just the mention of him makes you smile.

Why was Alfred so important to you?

Bruce goes back in but Alfred is already on his way to the door finally remembering his favorite part of the week.

Bruce watches the interaction closely as you smile when Alfred gives you the money. And how sweetly you hug Alfred.

Bruce had initially thought you only came for the good money Alfred was giving you but the way you smiled was kind...and very adorable.

The whole interaction was definitely wholesome and bruce couldn't help but want to be apart of it...he so desperately wished someone would hug him as happily you hug Alfred...

Bruce being the jealous man he is started to be the one opening the door every Saturday at 1pm enjoying your happy smiles and childish jokes you would tell him as you waited for Alfred to come to the door.

And just like Alfred Bruce always made sure he'd never be busy on Saturday at 1pm because rain or sunshine you'd be at their door.

Eventually it was raining very hard and your mother not checking the weather app before you left had left you alone in the rain with no way to contact your mother.

You do your usual houses ending up at the manor at 1pm and despite the hash rain you still had that cute toothy smile on your face that they loved seeing.

"Hi Mr, Wayne!" You happily say...always so happy.

Bruce smiles you always call him Mr. Wayne even when he tells you not to. You must have very good manners or are just very forget he thinks to himself.

"Hello sweetheart." He says. He's called you sweetheart since the second time he had met you.

Now bruce wasn't that into nicknames but for you the nickname really matched. You were just too sweet.

After you do your usual talking with Alfred and bruce you turn to walk back in the rain.

"You can't possibly walk back in that rain, sweetheart." Bruce says his voice edged with worry and concern.

But you dismiss his concern with a shrug and a smile.

"I've walked in worse.. plus my mama is gonna pick me up soon!" You say happily giving them their two boxes of cookies and walking a way.

But they don't smile back this time when you yell. "Have a blessed day!" Like you always do.

No, their eyes circle around everything about you. About the rain. How harshly it's hitting your skin. How wet your hair is getting. How heavy your little red wagon must be for you as it continues filling up with water.

They watch as you slowly disappear down the long driveway their hearts still longing to help.

But altimately they decide that they can't do anything. Your not their kid. They can't offer you a ride because they know you'd never accept.

They don't even know the name of your mother let alone her number. How were they supposed to verify if your mother was really going to pick you up?

Or were you just going to walk home in the rain?

You'd surely get sick... and after after about five more minutes the two men come to the conclusion that.....fuck the rules you were definitely not going to be walking alone in the rain.

So with Alfred handing bruce the keys bruce quickly took off in his black Mercedes.

You continue walking down the street trying not to feel scared as the lightning strikes agian. And when a black and very nice car pulls up beside you you walk faster.

You knew how much your mother worried...the last thing she needed was for you to get kidnapped!

But the car kept up with your pace and the window rolled down and as much as you tried not to you couldn't help but turn your head to see who was driving the car.

You immediately stop walking as you see the driver.

"Hi Mr. Wayne!" You say smiling and bruce can't even register a real smile as he takes in how your soaking wet from head to toe. And he just knows that those old shoes are probably hurting your feet.

"Hey sweetheart......how about I give you a ride?" He says his voice pleading as he pulls the car to a complete stop.

You look at him and tilt your head and bruce has to stop himself from just getting out the car and picking you up and putting you in himself.

Your adorable confused motions give away your response. So bruce speaks up agian.

"Just one ride to your house." He says still pleading but in his mind you don't really have a choice you are going to let him give you a ride.

"You won't kidnap me right?" You question and instead of bruce feeling offend or angry at that he smiles and shakes his head. You were trying to be safe. But that wasn't exactly a good question to ask.

Atleast not to the richest man in gotham who didn't have to necessarily kidnap you to keep you.

Reaching over and open the passengers seat for you Bruce shows you a award winning smile; a smile that not even the paparazzi has caught him with in years.

"Of course not sweetheart....come on get in."

And plus it's not considered kidnapping when you legally adopt someone right?

Thanks for reading!

Likes Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[foenixed]

Hey, my two interests (comic books and transgenderism) are aligned! I'd like to take this opportunity to inform people a little about why her creation of Black Lightning was so important and made her, despite the honestly relatively small number of comics she's written, so influential.

So, the year is 1977 and there aren't many black superheroes at the Big Two (Marvel and DC). Black Panther was the first, introduced in 1966, then Falcon (1969), Black Racer (1971), John Stewart/Green Lantern (1972), Luke Cage (1972) (who also took the title for first Black character to have their own series), Storm (1975) and Bumblebee (1976). Prexisting civilian character Bill Foster was made into Black Goliath (1975) and Mal Duncan into the Guardian (1976). Notably, the writer who turned Bill Foster into a superhero is also the star of this story, Jenny Blake Isabella.

For those keeping track, that's 5 characters at Marvel and 4 at DC. But DC had another problem, and that is that their few black characters are less notable than Marvel's. Black Racer had only really appeared as a side character in a miniseries, Bumblebee and Guardian were part of the failing Teen Titans series and didn't even make 10 appearances before its cancellation, and John Stewart had only appeared in 4 stories, AND he was stuck playing second fiddle because the main Green Lantern was Hal Jordan. They needed a black superhero. They needed a headliner.

Enter Black... Bomber? As has since been revealed, Black Lightning wasn't originally going to be Black Lightning. No. DC had a much worse idea in mind, which Isabella referred to as "Easily one of the most offensive concepts I had ever seen."

As she explained in the foreword to the 2015 Black Lightning TPB:

“During my exclusive arrangement with Marvel, I kept thinking about creating a new African-American hero. I wanted a character to whom our young readers could relate, a character who would inspire them as Superman and Captain America had inspired me. Unexpectedly, a DC editorial misstep gave me that opportunity. DC purchased two scripts for a planned new series called The Black Bomber. The hero, who would be their first "black" character to star in his own title, was a white racist Vietnam vet, who, as a result of taking part in chemical experiments to allow soldiers to blend in better with the jungle, turned into a black supehero in moments of stress. It gets worse. In each of the two well-intentioned scripts, the hero would, in his white racist persona, save a person he couldn't see clearly and, on finding out the person was black, exclaim something along the lines of- and this is a quote- "You mean I risked my life to save a jungle bunny?" And it gets worse. His superhero suit, such as it was, looked for all the world like a basketball uniform. Sweet Christmas!”

“DC wanted me to rewrite those two scripts and go solo on The Black Bomber with the third issue. I begged them to reconsider. It took some time, but I convinced them to consign the Bomber to limbo with the ultimate question: "Do you want your first black superhero to be a white bigot?" Common sense prevailed.”

And prevail it did. In only three weeks, Isabella invented a completely new character to replace the Black Bomber: the man called Jefferson Pierce, aka Black Lightning.

“I returned to my Cleveland roots for three weeks and came back to the DC offices with Jefferson Pierce. He was a teacher because, in a moment of clarity, I realized the one thing the vast majority of our readers had in common was that they all had gone/were going to school. He was based in an urban setting because I had become more political since starting my career and those were the stories I wanted to tell…and still do. He was an Olympic athlete because logic told me he had to have some sort of edge that was not the result of science or mutation.”

“The only thing I didn't have for my new character was a superhero name. Jeff and I found that name in the office of legendary editor Julius Schwartz. On Julie's wall, I spotted a Wonder Woman cover in which she was attempting to lasso a "black lightning bolt" while shouting, "Hera help me stop this Black Lightning before it splits this building in two!" Black Lightning. It sounded very cool to me, and Jeff liked it too. Neither one of us remembered it had also been the name of Western hero Johnny Thunder's horse.”

Not bad for a three week turnaround.

[brawberryz]

The mother of the ocean

Batfam Yan! × Batmom Selkie! Reader

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

the ocean

That's where you belonged, you had arrived at the coast a few months ago everything was so new to you

It was the first time you left the sea on your own all you knew about this new world were relationships that the other selkies told you.

But you were brave and decided to go out.

This whole new world was too new for someone as inexperienced as you, you knew that selkies in their human form were too attractive for ordinary humans.

So it was not strange that no one could take their eyes off you, in the eyes of ordinary humans you were an angel fallen from heaven.

And then you met him

bruce wayne

He fell for you as soon as his eyes fell on you, you were the most beautiful and charming woman he had ever met

For you he was not Bruce Wayne, the multimillionaire playboy of Gotham

Just Bruce, the kind man who deep down cared for others, although he will not show it

Some time later he told you his big secret, he was Batman and he introduced you to Richard who was his adopted son and also Robin.

You were like a mother figure Richard at that time, it had been a short time since the death of the little boy's parents leaving a big mark on him

But since you arrived everything had changed, forming a family was not in Bruce's plans.

But he didn't regret having met you, you were the only thing he needed

And he wasn't going to let you leave his side

_

The waves were getting bigger and bigger, a big storm was about to start

It was time to go back to the ocean, to your home.

Even if you wanted to stay you couldn't, a part of you said you would stay with him but another part said you should leave.

That very day Bruce had proposed to you, he had only known you for a few months but he was sure you were the love of his life.

But all you did was give him a confused look and then you ran away.

He thought he had pushed you too hard, didn't you love him?

He chased you to the coast, a few weeks ago you had started to behave strangely

He asked you if something was happening to you and you just said it wasn't important, he knew you were lying.

"Bruce I...I haven't been completely honest with you"

"What do you mean?"

You asked Bruce confused, he didn't understand what you meant, was it something so serious that you weren't even able to tell him

"I...I'm not the person you think I am"

You said as you turned to look at him, at that moment you didn't know what to do, if you stayed with him you were betraying your home, your family and culture.

But if you were going to betray him, you loved him more than anything and you knew that he loved you too

At that moment you were too stupid and you didn't know what you wanted

"I love you Bruce, but you're not mine"

You said for the last time before a great wave consumed your body, Bruce tried to stop you but it was too late.

He watched as your presence disappeared among the waves of the sea

That day I felt like I had lost again what I loved the most

And again he couldn't do anything about it

For years he went to that beach looking for you, hoping that one day you would come back

But you never did, you disappeared from his life like dust.

But he swore that if one day you came back he wouldn't let you leave him again

Never again

_

After a year you went back out to the coast, the summer sun hitting your shiny skin

Your old skin fell off your shoulders

You had to get clothes as soon as possible, you weren't going to be naked on the beach, you had manners!

You just had to wait for your collaboration to peel off your body and you could finally walk again

You thought you were alone, you chose the most desolate place without people on the entire beach

You were so distracted that you didn't even notice the dark-skinned boy who looked at you in amazement

As soon as you looked up your eyes met his emerald eyes

At that moment you felt your body filled with nervousness

You greeted him awkwardly while giving him a nervous smile

"Are you a mermaid?"

The younger one asked, it was the first time Damian had seen a creature like you

"No, I'm a selkie" you quickly denied, it was the first time a human had seen you before you completely transformed "besides mermaids and salkies are different because-"

Before you could finish speaking you heard a distant voice calling the young man

"Damian! I was looking for you all over the beach, you can't-"

Bruce's eyes widened in surprise when he saw you, after so many years you had returned?

He had waited for you for more than 20 years and now he was back

"(Name)..."

Your name came out of Bruce's lips, you could barely react when you felt Bruce lunge at you to hug you

Damian frowned confused, because his father was hugging a strange woman

You felt like your body was about to break from the force of Bruce's hug

After so many years he had you in his arms again

And this time he wasn't going to let you leave his side

_

He had taken you to the mansion as soon as possible, he wasn't going to let you stay on that beach alone

Bruce had introduced you to all the members of the family, apparently he had adopted many more children than you imagined

You felt a little bad for having missed so many things

Your relationship with them was pretty good, well with almost everyone

Richard was still as sweet as when he was a child, when he saw you again he didn't know He took off from you

It seems that he was still a mommy's boy

With Jason it was a little difficult, you found out that he had died and then revived, leaving the poor guy with a lot of trauma and problems

You tried to understand him and show him that you were always going to support him, it was difficult but you managed to gain his trust

You knew that deep down he wanted that support that they could never give him when he was little

Sometimes you had your doubts about Tim, how is it possible that someone as young as him could survive with so few hours of sleep!?

The first time you found out you asked him to improve his sleep schedule, you couldn't let him stay up so late

It made you happy that he listened to you, well almost

He still had horrible sleep schedules but he tried to take some breaks

It was quite difficult to get along with Damian, maybe your first meeting with him was calm

But after he found out about your history with Bruce he completely hated you, so you were the one to blame for Bruce looking at the sea all the time in a melancholy way

You tried to have a good relationship with him but nothing worked, he ignored you or said that you could never be his mother

You understood that he was angry because his life had changed, it wasn't easy to get used to something

So you gave him his space and didn't pressure him, even so you were kind to him

Over time you started to get along better, you told him about your adventures in the sea and facts about marine animals that he had never heard

He would never admit but he liked spending time With you, something in him wanted you to never leave

Barbara was someone quite kind, you got along well since the first time you met her

You used to go out with her and the other girls to walk and talk

Cass was someone quite quiet but she still liked being with you, it was a little difficult to have a conversation with her but even so she was the sweetest girl you had ever met

Stehp was someone quite good, she spent most of her time with cass

You could tell they were good friends, and you used to bring cookies for them

In stehp's words your little streets were the best in the world

All this was so perfect, but you knew you shouldn't get attached

You knew it was wrong to abandon them but you couldn't stay

The day was approaching when you had to return to the coast

But what you didn't know is that none of them were going to allow you to leave

_

"You can't go (name)! After all this you're going to leave me again!?"

Bruce said trying to get you to see reason, you couldn't leave him again, didn't you love him enough?

"You don't understand Bruce..."

You tried to back away but he ended up grabbing your wrists and pulling you closer to him

"Understand that (name)!?"

His grip on your wrists tightened and made you let out a sound of pain, you were sure that would leave a mark there

"Let me go, it hurts!"

You tried to get out of his grip but it was impossible, in your human form you were too weak, maybe you should have listened to the other selkies and never returned to the surface

"I didn't want to do this, (name), but you leave me no other choice"

You could barely do anything when you felt something embedded in your neck

It was a sedative, your vision became blurry, and you could only feel Bruce's arms wrap around your almost unconscious body

You could see a cynical smile forming on his face

Who would have thought that at that moment your nightmare would begin

_

Every day was worse than the last, you spent all day locked up in the mansion

Bruce had told everyone your secret and from that moment on everyone had become more possessive

All the time you felt watched, plus the whole family had become more clingy with you, they were not going to allow their mother to abandon them

You should be happy that they are with you! They only want the best for you

Not only did you have to spend all fucking day with kids who wouldn't leave you alone

You also had to put up with a "husband" who wouldn't even let you go to the bathroom alone

Every day that passed you hated Bruce more, because he was the one who put those ideas in the heads of others

You were very stupid to trust a man like him

Bruce started to think that maybe he should get you pregnant, so you could never leave his side

But the first time he approached you with ulterior motives you hit him

And during that whole week you didn't say a word to him, maybe when he regains your trust he could get closer to you again

But you weren't going to allow it, you hated Bruce with all your being, sometimes you wanted to kill him but you knew that would only cause more problems

For now you will have to learn to live like this

Who knows, maybe at some point you'll get used to it!

Or maybe you'll live the rest of your life miserably locked up in a mansion.

You just hoped that this nightmare would end one day.

I finished this pretty quickly, I really liked the concept of this story

I was thinking of making it a bit romantic but I'm better at writing angst than romance

Request made by @writing-flower

I hope you like the result🙏

[sincerelyneo]

so high school | l.hc

“no one’s ever had me. not like you…”

📀now playing: so high school by taylor swift

❯ summary: Hyuck doesn’t care that high school was years ago; after learning his girlfriend’s experience was shitty, he’s determined to rewrite it for you. After all, he’s nothing if not smitten.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, eventual smut

❯ words: 6.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni, swearing, fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, lots of gendered female terms, slight begging, brief possessiveness and jealousy bc it’s me, a brief cheating accusation but it’s stupid, hyuck being a cute boyfriend for 6k words.

an: did someone say haechan lover boy smut for valentine’s day? (they didn’t, lol. i wrote this for me, i love men in love)

“I fucking loved high school,” Hyuck says, placing down his yearbook on the coffee table.

It had to be a few years old by now, stuffed at the back of one of your bookshelves. You’d found it while doing an annual declutter and handed it to him on a whim. Knowing your boyfriend, you figured he’d find it nostalgic, or funny, or both.

You glance at him from your spot on the couch, eyebrow arched. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He shifts, sitting up straighter.

“You were on the football team, babe. Voted prom king, had good grades, and probably never had to eat lunch alone,” you list off, counting on your fingers for dramatic effect. “I’d be shocked if you did hate high school.”

He laughs with a shake of his head, sinking back further into the sofa. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little... popular.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips out before you can help it. “A little? I bet you walked through the hallways like you were the lead in a drama or something stupid like that.”

He nods. “Damn right. I was the shit.”

You scoff, tossing a pillow in his direction. He’s such a cocky bastard—but you love that about him.

“Jealous?” he shoots back, smirking.

You try to playfully roll your eyes, but instead, a small frown pulls at your lips. You know he’s just teasing, messing around, but memories of junior and senior year creep into your mind uninvited. You’d never been outright bullied, but high school wasn’t exactly a highlight reel for you. 

It was a blur of sitting in the back row, trying to make yourself small enough to avoid attention. Lunches alone in the library. No group of friends. No teenage dream. Dances you skipped, pretending you didn’t care when your chest ached from watching your classmates gush over photos the Monday after.

So yeah, you were a little jealous.

“Yes, actually,” you say finally, voice quieter. “High school sucked for me.”

His grin falters, posture straightening. “What?”

“I mean, it wasn’t all bad,” you rush to explain, suddenly self-conscious. “I got through it, you know? I just wasn’t... you.”

Hyuck leans back, studying you with a look you don’t see often on him—concern, worry. “What do you mean you weren’t me?”

“I wasn’t popular or cool or good at sports. I didn’t have a big friend group, and I definitely didn’t win prom queen…not that I even went.”

Hyuck doesn’t respond right away, and when you finally glance up, you find him staring at you with an expression you can’t quite place. There’s no teasing glint in his eyes, no cocky smile playing at his lips. He just looks... sad.

“Wait,” he says, his voice softer now. “You didn’t go to prom?”

You shrug. “Didn’t really have anyone to go with.”

He blinks at you like you just told him you spent your teenage years stranded on a deserted island, which for the likes of Hyuck, not attending prom was the justified equivalent. 

“Are you serious?”

“Hyuck, it’s not a big deal,” you say quickly, waving him off. “High school just wasn’t my thing.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeats. “Babe, prom is like... the peak of high school. It’s the one night everyone remembers forever. How did no one ask you? I can’t wrap my head around that.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the tightness in your chest. “Not everyone peaked in high school, Hyuck. Some of us just... took it for what it was: school.”

His expression softens even more, guilt creeping into his features as he scoots closer, his thigh brushing yours. “You know you deserved better than that, right?”

“Hyuck—”

“I mean it,” he says firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “If I’d been there, you would’ve been my prom queen. Hell, I’d have skipped the whole damn thing just to hang out with you if you didn’t wanna go.”

The honeyed warmth in his voice makes your throat tighten, and you hate how easily he can do this—take the ache of old memories and replace it with something softer, lighter. Something you almost want to believe.

“Too bad we didn’t meet until after high school,” you say, forcing a smile.

Hyuck falters—but only for a moment. His gaze lingers on you as if a thought is forming behind his dark eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “Too bad.”

You don’t think anything of it when he pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on your head as the conversation drifts elsewhere. But later, when he’s holding you close and you’re half-asleep, Hyuck is still thinking. Planning.

Because Lee Donghyuck might not be able to rewrite your past, but he’s damn sure going to be the best part of your future—trust. 

Hyuck just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The coolest person he’d ever met—his girlfriend, his soulmate—hadn’t gotten to live the high school teenage dream. No prom, no stupid corsages, no dancing barefoot at the end of the night because the heels were too much. Nothing.

It didn’t make sense. You were too fucking beautiful to be treated as background noise by those losers. Hyuck remembers the day he met you—a fully grown man—and you made him a stuttering mess. He’s never asked Mark for flirting advice ever in his life, but fuck, he wasn’t about to miss his chance with you. 

How could they just disregard you?

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. How did no one ask you out? Were they blind? Or just stupid? What kind of idiot couldn’t see what he saw every day?

The thought of you sitting at home on prom night, like it didn’t matter, made his chest ache. He couldn’t picture it—because you were you, the type of person every cheesy teen movie was written about: beautiful, funny, and so damn perfect. And yet... those assholes in high school had somehow missed it.

And even though the sick, selfish, possessive side of him is so fucking grateful that he’s the only one that’s ever had you, and those assholes missed out, he still can’t help but obsess over it. He couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to, and that realization burned. 

Hyuck groans, tipping his head back. “I’m losing it,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

But he couldn’t let it go. And because he was Lee fucking Donghyuck, when something got under his skin, he acted on it. Which is why, two days later, he finds himself standing in the middle of a small-town gymnasium, arms crossed over his chest as he surveys the scene in front of him.

“Is this the best you can do?” he asks, unimpressed.

Mark, balancing precariously on a ladder while stringing up fairy lights, glares down at him. “Dude, shut the fuck up,” he snaps. “You gave us two days to put this together. Do you even know how hard it was to convince the principal? I had to name-drop you!” 

Hyuck ignores him, his eyes sweeping over the room again. Mark wasn’t wrong—he had given his friends next to no time to work with. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

A cheap speaker sits on the ground, currently blasting some old prom playlist Mark had found online. The string lights slowly started taking shape, casting a soft glow across the gym. There is a table in the corner with a bowl of something pink and suspicious-looking, and a few chairs scattered around. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either.

Mark climbs down from the ladder, dusting his hands on his jeans. “I think it looks fine.”

“Fine?” Hyuck repeats, scoffing. “Mark, this is a high school prom. It’s supposed to be magical or whatever. This just looks like... a school event.”

“Because it is a school event,” Mark shoots back, rolling his eyes. “Look, man, if you wanted a five-star gala, maybe you shouldn’t have sprung this on me last minute.”

Hyuck sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, but he wanted, needed, to do this for you. You’d brushed off your high school experience like it was no big deal, but he could tell it meant something to you. Maybe not in a way you wanted to admit, but it was there.

And now it was his job—no, his mission—to fix it.

“Just... add more lights,” Hyuck says finally. “And maybe some balloons? Chenle, do we have balloons?”

Chenle, who was sweeping the floors, looked back with a shake of his head, scurrying off before he got caught in the crossfire. 

Mark groans. “Hyuck, if we add any more lights, the entire gym’s gonna blow a fuse. And no, we don’t have balloons. You’re lucky I even managed to get lights.”

Hyuck sighs again, running a hand through his hair. He had money, sure—that was the only reason he’d managed to rent out the gym on such short notice—but even he couldn’t buy time.

Still, as he looked around the gym, he felt a flicker of pride. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He’d move mountains for you if he had to. And if this half-assed prom was the closest he could get, then so be it.

Mark claps a hand on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Hey,” he says, softer now. “She’s gonna love it, dude. Stop stressing out.”

Hyuck nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

Your boyfriend’s acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.

Hyuck’s always been a little odd—but that’s one of the things you love about him. The endless hobbies he picks up and abandons in a week like juggling, the random facts he collects from late-night YouTube rabbit holes, and his never-ending need to one-up his friends in bets and challenges. But this? This feels different. Like it’s more than some dumb dare or fleeting obsession.

For the past two days, he’s been unusually secretive. You’ve caught him whispering with Mark on the phone more than once, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush whenever you’d walk into the room. And then there was yesterday—when you brought coffee to his rehearsal. You barely stepped inside before the entire group went awkwardly silent, and Hyuck practically herded you back out the door. Hyuck, who usually couldn’t keep his hands off you in public and loved showing you off, suddenly turning shy…suspicious doesn’t even begin to cover it.

And let’s not forget the disappearing act last night. He came home late, shrugging off your questions with a grin and the vague excuse of “guy stuff.” Guy stuff. That was the moment you knew something was up.

And so, you’ve been sitting on the couch, stewing, waiting for him to get home from rehearsal. The seconds drag, and with each passing minute, your frustration builds. By the time you hear the jingle of his keys in the door, you’re ready to burst.

Hyuck stumbles in, his hair slightly mussed, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. He looks exhausted but excited, strange. He barely gets a foot inside before you’re on him.

“Are you cheating on me?”

His jaw drops, the grin on his face disappearing instantly, eyes blinking at you like you’ve just accused him of arson. You’d honestly prefer it if he had. “What?! No! Why would you even—what the fuck?”

“You’ve been acting so weird!” you snap, crossing your arms. “The sneaky phone calls, the late nights, the whispering, the weird excuses—guy stuff? Do you think I was born yesterday?”

That makes him laugh and you swear you see red. He thinks this is funny? You’ll show him funny. 

“If you wanted to break up with me, Hyuck, don’t insult me by sneaking around! Just—just tell me to my face!” Your voice wavers, hurt bubbling in your throat as you glare at him.

Hyuck’s expression softens instantly, his eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, hey, wait—babe, no. That’s not what’s happening here, I swear.”

You narrow your eyes, pointing at the garment bag. “Oh yeah? What’s that, then? Some outfit for your other girlfriend?”

His mouth drops open, and then he barks out a laugh, though he quickly smothers it when he sees your glare. “No! Oh my God, no. Look, just… this isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he pinches his temples “Could you just go upstairs and put this on, okay?” He holds the bag out to you, practically shoving it into your hands.

“Excuse me?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“Just—trust me, babe. Please. Go upstairs, put this on, and come back down when you’re ready.”

You stand there, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. Because he must have. “Hyuck, I am not—”

“Please,” he interrupts, his voice softer now. “Just this once. Do this for me. It’ll all make sense.”

His eyes meet yours, and for all the frustration boiling under your skin, you can’t ignore the quiet sincerity in his voice. Because even though his recent actions have been enough to make your paranoia spike, he’s still your Hyuck—and you trust your Hyuck.

With a sharp huff, you snatch the garment bag from his hands and stomp upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind you before he can say another word. Your pulse is racing, irritation curling hot in your chest as you yank the zipper down and pull the dress out with more force than necessary.

It’s beautiful. And that pisses you off even more.

Who does he think he is? Sneaking around all week, ignoring you for days, then showing up with a pretty dress and expecting you to put it on without question?

Annoying. He’s so annoying.

Still scowling, you step into the dress, the silky fabric gliding over your skin like it was made for you, and knowing Hyuck he’d probably ask someone to do that for him. It fits perfectly, hugging every curve, and when you catch your reflection in the mirror, your anger stutters—just for a second. It’s beautiful. You look beautiful.

Damn it.

You swipe at your eyes before anything ridiculous like tears can form and square your shoulders. Fine. You’ll wear the dress. But you’re not going to let him off the hook so easily. Throwing the door open, you march downstairs, irritation simmering beneath the surface of your foundation. “Lee Donghyuck, you better—”

But you freeze.

Because he’s standing at the bottom of the steps in an equally beautiful suit, rocking on his heels, with a small, nervous smile playing on his lips. He’s holding a corsage in his hands—delicate flowers wrapped in silk, matching your dress perfectly.

And then, all at once, it clicks.

That fucking yearbook you found. The conversation that came after it. The sneaking around. The secrecy. 

Your breath catches in your throat, warmth creeping up your neck as a blush dusts his skin. He chews his lip, eyes flickering up to meet yours, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d swear he was nervous.

Hyuck never gets nervous.

“Do you wanna rewrite prom with me?”

And just like that, you break.

Tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them, and Hyuck’s smile falters just slightly as he steps forward, hand reaching out to you, as if he’s ready to catch you, to hold you close, if you were to fall. But you don’t fall. You just nod, because it feels impossible to do anything else.

How could you say no to him? How could you possibly deny the one person in the world who would do something like this for you—not because he had to, but because he wanted to, because he loves you to a point you never thought possible because he needs you to be happy.

“I love you,” you choke out through your happy tears, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

Hyuck’s worry shifts into something warmer, something softer. He steps closer, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek to wipe away the tear.

“Does that mean we’re not breaking up, then?” His voice is teasing, but there’s a tenderness underneath, a soft hope in his eyes that mirrors the love you just confessed.

Your heart skips a beat, and you nod through blurry eyes, a small smile breaking through. “Not even close.”

His face splits into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen, and before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you into his arms, rocking you side to side like he’s never going to let go. It’s overwhelming—the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne, the steady beat of his heart against your ear. And for once, you let yourself lean into it, let yourself feel just how much he loves you, because God, does he know how to show it.

“I love you too, you know,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, meant just for you. “Like, stupidly. Like, I’m gonna remind you every day until you’re sick of me, because I never want you to think I’m cheating on you ever again.”

You huff a laugh, sniffling. “I don’t think I could ever be sick of you.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, taking in the glassiness in your eyes, the heat in your cheeks. Then, with a smirk, he presses the corsage into your hands. “Your favourite colour.”

“Now,” he says, stepping back and offering his arm, “if we don’t leave soon, Mark might actually rip my balls off.”

It takes you a second to register what he means, and when you glance past him, you see Mark leaning against his car, arms crossed, exuding pure suffering. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, but you know your Hyuck can be very convincing. 

“Are you two done?” Mark calls, exasperated. “Because I have better things to do than play chauffeur for your little rom-com tonight.”

“Liar!” Hyuck yells, dragging you toward the car. “If you weren’t here, you’d be playing video games with Chenle or something. Your life is boring and bitchless!”

Mark groans but doesn’t deny it.

“Wait! One more thing,” Hyuck gasps, stopping you just as you’re about to step into the car. Before you can question it, he’s already sprinting back inside. A few seconds later, he bursts through the door, holding up a letterman jacket that doesn’t match your old school’s colours, but his. 

And when he drapes it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary, his gaze catches on his surname stitched across your back. His cheeks flush that familiar shade of pink, and for once, he’s the one left speechless.

You clutch your hands to the jacket, making sure it doesn’t fall off and you can’t stop smiling. Because even though he was just being a fouled-mouthed menace to his friend. He’s clearly only ever sweet and soft with you. Hyuck opens the car door for you and he slides in beside you, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature, like they belong. You look down at your joined hands, his thumb stroking slow circles against your skin, and warmth blooms in your chest.

The corsage, the letterman, the chauffeur to prom. It’s silly. It’s cheesy. It’s the kind of thing you used to roll your eyes at in movies as a teenager. But right now, with him, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because he’s rewriting how you feel about the cheesy stuff, giving you the giddy, reckless kind of love you never got to have. 

Letting his hand rest on your thigh, making you stifle your sighs as it slowly crept up your flesh. His touch is heedless and uncaring as if Mark wasn’t inches away in the front seat. It’s compulsive, carless, and so ridiculously juvenile—it’s so high school.

Which feels very on-brand as you pull up to an old brick building. Mark cuts the engine, allowing Hyuck to round the car and open your car door before holding your hand tight and walking you towards the football field.

So many memories flooded back to you as soon as he opened the gate that led to the field. Heels on the grass, on the sacred sanctuary you never had the chance to belong on. Suddenly you’re sixteen again and Hyuck leds you over to the bleachers, climbing up several rows before taking a seat and pulling you down next to him. 

"Are we trespassing right now?" you ask, slipping your arms into his letterman to ward off the winter chill. "I know you love me, but you don’t have to commit a crime for me."

Hyuck scoffs, a playful smirk on his lips. "Please, you know I wouldn’t think twice about committing a crime for you if you asked me to." He pauses, then adds, "But no, we’re not trespassing. This is my old high school, and since I'm such an outstanding alumni, I had some strings pulled. They left me the key for tonight."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "So they did all this just for you, huh?"

“Don’t look at me like that, this is for us.”

"Uh-huh," you tease. "I must say, knowing how to ball in high school seems to have its perks. I was in the wrong clubs clearly. You’re basically the only person I know who managed to continue peaking after high school."

Hyuck’s smile falters, a flicker of something sad crossing his face. His eyes drift downward, and you catch that same troubled look he had when you found his yearbook—when he learned how different your high school experiences were. You don’t want him to feel like that, not when he’s trying so hard to fix it. But you don’t want him to fix it either, because as messed up as your teenage years were, they led you to him. No one’s ever had you. Not like him anyway. 

You slide your hand over his, squeezing gently as you move closer. “You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know?”

Hyuck chuckles, that flicker of sadness vanishing as quickly as it came. “Don’t say that. You haven’t even seen what I’ve got planned inside yet. I had all the boys stressed over fairy lights and balloons all week.”

Knowing how much effort he’s put in makes you smile, your fingers drifting up to trace the curve of his cheek. He’s so beautiful. So in love. So undeniably yours.

“I’m excited to see it,” you say. “But right now, I just want to be here. Is that okay? I never really got to hang out on the bleachers.”

“Will you yell at me if I say that a sick part of me loves that you never cheered for other guys playing football?”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, undeterred. “Yeah, I wanna kill those assholes for never inviting you to a game, for not taking you to prom. But I also love that I get to be the one to do it with you. Even if we’re adults.”

You bite your lip, feigning hesitation. “Well, I have some information I think you might like.”

Hyuck raises a brow. “Oh?”

“I always wanted to make out under the bleachers,” you admit, heat creeping up your neck. “Call me cliché, but when I was a freshman, I imagined having my first kiss with Lee Felix under there.”

His nose crinkles instantly. “I don’t know who that is, but I hate him.” Hyuck scoffs, but his hands are already sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. “Still… this night is about me making your fantasies come true. So fuck that guy and let me kiss you, baby.”

And you do—let his lips capture yours, kissing you until they’re swollen and puffy, until they mould perfectly to his, like they were always meant to. Until there’s no doubt that they, and you, belong to him.

Hyuck wastes no time, scooping you into his arms with ease, carrying you into the shadows beneath the rickety metal frame. And then his lips are on yours again—hungry, unrelenting. It’s everything you ever imagined. No—better. Because it’s him and you. 

His hand trails up your body as he presses you against one of the cold metal pillars, calloused fingers graze your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Years of football have roughened his touch, but it’s the way he holds you—like he can’t get enough, like he never will—that really makes your breath hitch. And you almost want to laugh, because you’re pretty sure most people fuck after prom, not before it. But this is you and Hyuck. You’ve never played by the rules, never followed the scripted path. You never wanted to.

And that’s exactly why a soft, desperate “Please,” slips from your lips as his fingers venture higher, until they’re brushing against the hem of your panties.

“Cute,” he smiles and murmurs against your lips, grinning as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, his cool touch grazing your clit. You shiver, and it only makes him that more pleased—more proud. His other hand glides up your stomach, sneaking beneath your dress until he’s palming your breast, his thumb teasing over your nipple.

“You know…” he muses, voice dripping with amusement, “I paid good money for this dress. It’d be a shame to ruin it.”

“Please. You’d never buy me a dress you didn’t plan on ruining.”

Hyuck giggles, shaking his head, but before you can run that smart mouth of yours again, his finger slips so easily into your pussy, and you gasp, clinging to his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your ear, voice thick with need. “I love that you know me so well.”

His fingers keep working you, desperate and wild—because if you know Hyuck so well, he knows you even better. Knows your body like it’s his to worship. And when he adds a second finger, stretching you open, pleasure floods through you so intensely your eyes flutter shut, your head tipping back as a moan catches in your throat.

But that won’t do.

Hyuck likes to watch you. Likes to see the way your lips part, the way your brows knit together, the way your pupils blow wide with nothing but him. He wants you to know—no, needs you to know—that he’s the one making you feel this good. That it’s his touch unravelling you, his name you should be thinking about, whimpering, crying out.

So the second your lashes flicker, his fingers slow, teasing, withholding. You whimper, forced to open your eyes again, hazy and weak—just the way he likes them—just the way he needs them to be before he picks up his pace.

He’s meticulous, careful—determined to make you cum right here, right now. If your fantasy was just to make out under the bleachers, Hyuck is going to take it further, push it past anything you ever imagined. He’s going to make you cum here, again and again, until this moment is burned into your memory. Until you can never think about high school, about this field, about these bleachers, without thinking about him. About the way he touched you. About the way he made it perfect. He always makes everything perfect. 

“Need you to cum all over my fingers, pretty girl. Come on,” he murmurs, pinching your clit as he tries to coax an orgasm out of you. And it doesn’t take long. The honeyed rasp of his voice, the relentless rhythm of his fingers, the way his eyes stay locked on yours—it’s all too much. You shatter around him with a high-pitched moan.

“Atta girl,” he breathes, watching you with nothing but admiration. “So fucking pretty when you cum for me.”

Your mind is fuzzy, his words melting into white noise as you come down from your high on shaky legs. If it weren’t for the pillar at your back, you’re certain you’d be a puddle on the floor. Hyuck holds you close, his hand stroking your hair as he murmurs soft praises against your ear—something about being so pretty, so good, so his. But all you can focus on is the growing bulge in his pants, the evidence of just how much he wants you. A bulge you put there. One you’re aching to take care of.

You start to drop to your knees, and he sucks in a breath, his eyes locked on yours.

“Stop,” he commands harshly, stepping back as if something’s shifted. It forces you to stand up straight again, confusion crossing your face.

“Don’t you want me to—”

“Oh, I fucking want you to, and you’re going to,” he growls. Then, he peels off his suit jacket and drapes it on the concrete floor between you two. “Now, you can get on your knees for me, Y/N,” he orders, his voice rough and commanding, but then it cracks, desperately. “Please.”

You lower yourself onto his suit jacket, kneeling before him, palms pressing firmly against his thighs. His erection is hard, straining through his suit pants, but he’s waited—waited until he knew you’d be most comfortable because that’s just who he is. 

“Look at you,” he says, running his thumb over your mouth. “Puffy lips parted and ready for me. Big fucking eyes, so innocent, so needy.”

“Only for you, Hyuck,” you breathe softly as you start undoing his belt and his jaw visibly ticks.

You’ve sucked his cock before—of course you have, and you love it. And still, he looks at you like it’s the first time, nostrils flaring, pupils dilated, as he drinks in every detail of your eagerness. He’s so hungry to feel you, to get lost in you—so feral.

Using his forefinger, he lifts your chin, forcing your chin and attention on him. “I know, baby. Only me. Always me.”

You run your tongue over your lower lip, and he tracks the entire thing, looking like some kind of predator.

“Take it out.”

You comply, dropping his pants to his ankles and tugging his boxer briefs down with them. His cock springs free, angry veins visible and the tip glistening. The sight of his straining cock right in front of you pulls this desperate sound from deep in his throat. He traces every inch of your face as if he plans to paint it soon, and you’d let him.

His palm glides over your head again, fingers weaving through your hair, cupping the back of your skull to keep you anchored in place. Rough and dominant—just how he likes it, and just how you crave it.

“I need to fuck your mouth, baby. Seeing you cum in my letterman has got me so damn hard. I need this pretty mouth,” he whimpers as his palm rests on your scalp. “You’re gonna let me do that aren’t you? Because you’re such a good fucking girl.”

You nod and squirm in anticipation, using the tip of your tongue to lick a path over his slit, savouring the salty taste from the bead of precum. His eyes instantly roll back and you grip his shaft with one hand and lick a path from root to tip.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Just like that,” he hisses between his teeth as his entire body vibrates.

You look up at him, fluttering your lashes over heavy eyes. Because the only thing Hyuck craves more than his own pleasure is the sight of yours. You round your lips, sucking him in slowly. Your head bobs as you work your tongue in sync with your lips, but he’s so big, a fact you’ll never get used to. He hits the back of your throat and you hold him there, swallowing around his tip, tears welling at the corners of your eyes as your throat tightens with a gentle choke.

"Fuck—" He lurches forward, one hand gripping the pillar for support while the other tugs at your hair, pulling you off him just long enough to catch your breath—because he's nothing if not considerate.

Hyuck runs his thumb by the corner of your eye, gathering the moisture that pooled there.

“I’m ruining your makeup,” he muses, lips curling into a smirk. “I had prom pictures planned.”

A blush creeps on your cheeks, “We don’t have to take them.”

“We’re taking them.” There’s no question in his tone. It’s simply a statement. A demand. “Then I’m keeping a copy in my wallet, so next time I’m on tour, fisting my cock, I can think about you. About this."

You nod, breath hitching. "O-okay."

"Okay." His thumb drags over your lip again, teasing until you part for him, wrapping around it. He presses down, tugging lightly. "So agreeable. So obedient. Aren’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

His smirk deepens. "Good. So you'll keep sucking my cock, won't you?"

You don’t even bother with words—too eager to please, too determined to finish what you started. Your fingers wrap around him, stroking once before you take him back into your mouth, sucking deep before pulling off with a lewd pop. Then you do it again, following his cues, giving him exactly what you know he loves. A slow flick of your tongue along the underside of his head, a firm squeeze as you cup his balls, and then you’re taking him to the back of your throat. His entire abdomen tenses. His breathing turns ragged.

"Fuck." His curse is sharp as he pulls back, just enough to look at you. "I’m gonna cum. You gonna let me cum in your mouth, baby?"

You nod eagerly, mascara streaking your cheeks, spit glistening at the corner of your lips. "Please, Hyuck."

His smirk is wicked. "Are you gonna be a good little girlfriend and swallow it all for me?"

You nod—far too enthusiastically.

"Good. Now, take a deep breath, baby—'cause it’s the last one you’re getting for a while."

He runs a gentle thumb over your cheekbone before guiding your head forward. Your lips part instinctively, wrapping around him as he sets the pace, fucking your mouth with a steady rhythm. His palms cover your ears, his hips roll with precision—nothing but pure pleasure as he chases his high. And you let him. You take it, let him use you because he’s done all of this for you tonight. Because he deserves his reward.

Truthfully, watching Hyuck unravel beneath you—knowing you’re the one making him this needy, this desperate to cum—is your own reward. Because seeing him lost in pure bliss is the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Your fingernails dig into his skin, leaving faint crescents as he keeps his pace—steady, deliberate—but always mindful, always making sure you can breathe. He checks in with his eyes, just like you said—considerate.

You moan around his length, hips shifting instinctively, searching for friction. And of course, Hyuck notices. He always notices.

"Are you getting turned on from sucking me off, Y/N?" he taunts, through a tight restraint breath. "So wet, even after I already made you cum." He pulls out of your mouth, gaze dark. "Show me. Show me how wet sucking my cock has made you.”

Heat prickles your skin as you reach under your dress, the one he bought, and gather your arousal on two fingers. You bring them up, letting him see the proof, the evidence of just how much you want him.

“Fuck,” he growls, as deep brown eyes turn black as they lock on your fingers. “So fucking obedient.” 

Hyuck leans in, grasping your wrist before guiding your fingers into his mouth. His tongue flicks over the tips, slow and careful, savouring the taste—the proof of how badly he’s wrecked you. Of how much you like him, love him. 

He nods toward his cock, covered in your saliva, hard and twitching, ready to cum. "Make me cum, baby. Please."

You hold his eye contact, grip his cock, and bring your mouth back to cover him. He moans, head falling back, and you work his length with your mouth and hand, doing your best to take what you can’t handle. It doesn’t take long until his hips jerk in short, sloppy movements. His breath comes out in ragged gasps, moans soft but pitched, the sound of him unravelling.

“Y/N,” he cries out your name in a whimper of desperation. One hand finds yours, holding it tenderly, while the other braces on the pillar behind you. Then, he cums—hard.

He tries to keep his eyes locked on yours, because that’s his favourite part, but the sensation overwhelms him, and he has to shut them. Every muscle in his body tightens as hot, forceful pulses hit the back of your throat.

“So pretty like this,” he pants breathlessly. “Mouth full of my cum.” The pad of his thumb traces down the line of your throat. “You’re gonna swallow it, aren’t you?”

It’s not a question, and you don’t hesitate. You swallow all of him, but it’s not enough. You need more—need him inside of you.

“Fuck me, please, Hyuck.”

He shakes his head, a teasing smile tugging at his lips and then he laughs. He uses the hand he’s had entangled with yours to pull you up to your feet, steadying you gently. “I can’t. Not here.”

You pout, disappointed, your body aching for him. “Why not?”

His smile widens as he adjusts your dress, pulling the fabric down to cover you properly, the moment feeling suddenly too sweet considering he was just fucking your throat.

“Because,” he draws out playfully, “I planned a prom, and like all cheesy teenagers, I don’t plan to fuck you here.”

You quirk a brow, crossing your arms across your body. But before you can say anything, Hyuck fumbles with his suit jacket, dropping to the floor to search the pockets. His hands hover for a second before he pulls out a room key, holding it up like some kind of trophy.

You scoff with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Very cliché.”

He grins at you. “I think we have pictures to take.”

[cybrasigilism]

Hi, love your work! Could you write a virginity loss for the reader with thanos in the bathrooms of the games! Can y/n also be shy since it's their first time and have thanos be understanding and talk her through it +handjob ? Please and thank you!!

can’t lie i went a little insane when i saw this one 🤭🤭

Consideration (Thanos/Choi Su-bong [Player 230] X F! Reader HEADCANONS/DRABBLE)

warning: smut, crazy ik | not proofread | lowercase intended | virginity loss | soft dom! thanos (im not sure if this counts as OOC help-) | handjob | praise | public sex (it is the bathrooms after all) | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYYYY!! again with the point format, i feel much more at ease getting my ideas out this way, so please bear with me. my apologies if it’s hard to read because of this

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

➸ thanos, who couldn’t stop flirting with you throughout the games purely for the flustered reaction you gave almost on command.

➸ thanos, who upon finding out you were a virgin, found a way to get you alone in the bathrooms of the squid games, sneaking past the guards who surely didn’t care that he was in the wrong bathroom to begin with

➸ thanos, who had you pressed up against the cool, tiled wall of the bathroom stall as his lips crashed against yours. he wasted almost no time in sliding his cold hands up your shirt, sending a shockwave of goosebumps and pleasure up your skin

➸ thanos, who spent so much time kissing and sucking on your neck, you would have been shocked if you walked out of this unscathed by hickeys. each time his tongue passed over your sensitive skin, you saw stars

➸ thanos, who had you kneel between his legs as he pulled his dick out, guiding your hand in his up and down the length of it.

➸ thanos, who encouraged you through the entirety of the handjob. who told you “fuck, your hands are so soft”, “ngh, feels so good when you touch me like that baby..”, “you’re doing great, keep going just like that, yeah” between breathy moans

➸ thanos, who’s hands never ceased to roam your body when you decided to straddle him for the first time. he reassured you when the pressure of sinking down onto him became almost too much at points, wiping the tears from your face. of course, he let you sit there for as much as you needed to adjust.

“shit, y’re taking me so well, señorita.”

“hey, hey— you’re doing amazing so far, don’t cry!”

“fuck i can’t wait to make you feel good…”

➸ thanos, who eased you into the whole process of riding him. he was used to a faster paced, intense, more hot and heavy kind of session, but this time was different. he could see the anxiety in your eyes, he definitely knew how big of a deal this was for you, and he wanted to make it as special as possible— for these circumstances anyhow.

“that’s it, you’re practically a natural already. that’s my girl, fuck.”

➸ thanos, who moved your hips himself when you had gotten shy on him. you were insecure of how good of a job you were doing, but he wasn’t going to stand for that. you already know he was going to make sure you knew how good you were doing— or rather, how good you felt.

“holy hell, you’re so tight.. fuck i dunno how long i’ll last señorita”

“so good… so good and all f’ me”

“don’t s—top, god i don’t ever want you to stop”

“what’s wrong? you’re fucking me so good, keep going!”

➸ thanos, whose moans drove you wild when you eventually got the boost of confidence you needed to start riding him yourself. the sounds he was making made you tighten even more than you thought possible, which in turn made him cry out even more.

“shit, if you keep going like this ‘m gonna cum”

“fuck yes, fuck me like that.. you got it, oh god, you got it”

“need ya’ s’bad… i needed this so b—ad, fuck!”

➸ thanos, who wrapped his arms around you after you came. he pulled you into him, chests heaving in tandem as you both came down off this metaphorical high. he caressed the back of your head, the praises he sang for you continued flowing.

“that was fucking, wow. y’ did so good, señorita.”

“see? i knew you could do it, such a good girl for me.”

─────────────

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY GUYS!!

to the anon that requested this, i truly hope this is something like what you had in mind. and to everyone as a whole, i hope you enjoyed! i’ve been fighting off a mean writer’s block so i apologize if this isn’t my best work, but i’m just glad to put something out!

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

[mythandlaur]

The links in this post still do seem to get you to the correct places. It also may help to turn off smart features in Google settings (if the link doesn't get you to the page it's Gmail > Settings cog > View all settings), scroll down, and uncheck this box:

(Google will constantly bother you to turn this back on, meaning it's probably a very, very bad thing for you.)

You can also click your icon in the corner on any Google page, click Manage My Google Account, and from there reach Data and Privacy to turn some settings off. There's also My Ad Center (don't know how to get here normally) where you can supposedly turn off ads based on information collected, and My Activity to probably turn off using data from websites you visit and your Youtube history to do ads.

I know this all isn't totally related to AI, but in a world where they'll use anything they can get their grubby mitts on, I want to spread awareness of these features and how much they're collecting.

Proton Drive and File Garden are good alternatives for cloud storing and sharing files respectively, with Proton slowly building a Google-esque suite including Docs and Mail (and as a bonus providing a VPN with a free option that is currently one of the horrifically few VPNs you can get that isn't stealing your data and ratting on you).

Since I'm mostly a writer at least ostensibly, as all writers are, Ellipsus and Writer by Big Huge Labs are online Docs alternatives meant for creative writers, I don't know a lot about the latter, but the former has the bonus of having told NNWM to go fuck themselves when they started taking AI sponsorships, and their stance on AI amounts to "absolutely fucking not ever until everyone developing this is dead"

DuckDuckGo is also compromised by AI, I use StartPage and it mostly works for daily use.

And then, of course, there is LibreOffice, which a lot of people know about but there's always the lucky 10,000.

Stay safe, fuck AI, fuck Google

Hey everyone, I know it's going to be a busy day for a lot of people, but Google enrolled everyone over 18 into their AI program automatically.

If you have a google account, first go to gemini.google.com/extensions and turn everything off.

Then you need to go to myactivity.google.com/product/gemini and turn off all Gemini activity tracking. You do have to do them in that order to make sure it works.

Honestly, I'm not sure how long this will last, but this should keep Gemini off your projects for a bit.

I saw this over on bluesky and figured it would be good to spread on here. It only takes a few minutes to do.

[bahablastplz]

Battleground: Minho x Reader

Prompt: "Hii, i was wondering in you could write a one shot of alpha!minho x Alpha!afab. They met through their friend/roommate Jisung who is an omega, and they are enemies and Jisung has to break up their fights, but this one time they end up having sex while fighting for dominance." Content: Smut, angst, omegaverse, enemies to lovers, switch/dom Minho, switch reader, alpha reader/alpha Minho, afab!reader WC: 5000 Note: hi yes I got carried away with this but this was super fun to write. enjoy!

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You should have never trusted Jisung. This is often a motto of yours, actually, seeing as he’s responsible for nine out of every ten instances of trouble you find yourself in. But he has big pleading eyes and he can be so convincing that you throw caution to the wind every time he speaks. 

You needed a new roommate. Your old one bailed on you (thank god, because she was actually the worst). She was filthy and never cleaned up after herself. She left dishes in the sink, piles of trash for you to take care of, and was blatantly rude. You let out a sigh of relief when she told you she was moving and it took all of two days for her to fuck off for no apparent reason. She left your life as violently as she entered it, however, leaving piles and piles of her junk for you to take care of as well as half of the rent once again. 

You wish that you could lie and say that you could afford it by yourself but you simply couldn’t. It was just too far out of your spending limits and so… you needed to find a new place to live. 

When Jisung suggested you come to live in his spare bedroom, it really didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. You knew the omega well enough; he wasn’t the cleanest in the world but he’s a step up from your old roommate for sure. Plus he was one of your closest friends. If anything, you knew you would feel comfortable around him. The only reason you had hesitated at first is because everybody always tells you not to live with your friends. Somehow you doubted this would be an issue with Jisung though. 

It would be fine, right? You’ve heard only good things about his other roommate, Minho. Jisung jokingly refers to him as his platonic soulmate sometimes but you don’t really know anything else about him. You were a little weary about sharing a living space with two omegas and all, being an alpha yourself, but you were no asshole alpha. They would have nothing to worry about. 

Once again, you should have never trusted Han Jisung. 

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“What are you doing? You’re going to scare her away!” You hear through the door of the apartment. You’re a little unsure when you hear muffled shouting and you feel an uneasiness in your stomach that you ignore but you can’t help to continue to listen. “Why are you acting like you don’t want her here?” 

“Because I don’t. We don’t know her!”

“You don’t know her. I know her perfectly well and you should trust my judgment.” You use this as the opportunity to knock on the door which swings open to a wide-eyed Jisung. He looks guilty of something and you’re confused before it hits you all at once. 

The apartment reeks of cinnamon. Every crevice and corner is dripping of the strong smell to the point you can hardly smell Jisung’s vanilla, even if you really focus. That’s when you come to the realization that Jisung’s roommate isn’t an omega… He’s an alpha. One intentionally covering the whole apartment with his smell before he even gets to know you to assert his dominance. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes at the stereotypical alpha behavior and you resist the urge to cover your nose at the smell. Just because Minho is being rude doesn’t mean you need to be rude in return. 

And before you can even say anything to greet him, he’s walking away and slamming his door shut. You give Jisung a look and he’s already looking at you apologetically. 

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I really am. He’s not usually like this, I swear. I don’t know what’s going on–” 

“Jisung,” you interrupt. “You never told me he was an alpha in the first place!” 

His mouth opens slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. “I didn’t?” 

You sigh at him and take a deep breath. “Just help me with these boxes, okay?” And as if he’s eager to be back on your good side, he helps you without a fuss. 

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It’s two entire days before you even see Minho again. It agitates your own alpha, really, knowing that there’s someone else in your living space you haven’t gotten a proper chance to meet and scope out. But you’ve finally gotten yourself settled into your space and you have to admit it’s nice being so close to Jisung all the time. 

You stumble out of your room after an afternoon nap to find him cooking in the kitchen. It takes you by surprise, honestly, because for someone who has already tried to be so stereotypically alpha, it just seems like a very… omegan activity. You tell yourself it’s not polite to pass judgments on someone you hardly know, especially regarding their secondary gender, so you don’t say a word about it. You do, however, make an attempt to properly introduce yourself.

“Hello,” you say lightly. Minho’s shoulders tense up for a second before they relax. “I’m Y/N.” He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything. You make a face from behind him, where he can’t see you. What is his deal? You lean against the wall, trying to think of a way to make conversation. If this were anybody else, you wouldn’t bother but… you’re doing this for Jisung, after all. This is supposed to be one of his closest friends aside from you. “How long have you known Jisung for?” you try. 

“Longer than you,” he scoffs. This catches you off guard as you’re not quite sure what to make of the statement. Is he trying to be possessive over the omega or is he just trying to show you that he’s winning whatever competition this is? 

“Oh. How long would that be? I’ve only known him for two years or so, but we’ve grown really close–” Minho finally spins around and you make eye contact for the first time. His harsh gaze is the first thing you really notice about him, his feline eyes sharp as they stare daggers into you. He’s very pretty, you note, and it almost pisses you off even more. How can someone so attractive be such an asshole? 

“You’re not my friend,” he says, pointing a wooden spoon at you threateningly. “This was my space first and you have no right to intrude and try to be buddy-buddy with me. I don’t know you.” His words are blunt, to the point. He turns back around and… god, he’s trying to assert dominance again by shutting you up and ending the conversation here! Better yet, his cinnamon scent spikes and swirls around the room, haunting you. 

You won’t retaliate with your own scent. You’re better than that. But that doesn’t mean you’ll let some alpha think he’s better than you and shut you up without a fight. “Who’s fault is that?” you spit. Minho freezes so you continue. “Who’s fault is it that you don’t know me, hmm? I never asked to be your friend, Minho. But I’m not here to intrude and I’m not here to take over your territory and become the new head-alpha, okay? I’m here because Jisung invited me. I’m here because I need a place to live! Is it really so fucking bad to think that maybe you can be civil with me? Instead you’ve been defensive since the second I walked through that door!” Your anger is spiking and you need to get control of yourself before you explode on him. You turn around and slam your door shut before you can say anymore. 

Once on your bed you fight the urge to punch something. You certainly let yourself get riled up fast. It annoys you that someone you don’t even know has this sort of effect on you. But you close your eyes and will the anger away, telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, it’ll get better. 

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It doesn’t get better. It gets a whole lot worse, actually. Your first movie-night in with Jisung you actually get nauseous with how much he reeks of Minho. 

“Jesus, Sung,” you tell him. “It smells like you rolled around with him right before you came into my room.” 

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. It’s so hard to be mad at him. It really is. “He’s been extra clingy lately for some reason.” 

“For some reason,” you grumble. You know exactly why. “He’s trying to intimidate me to stay away from you, probably.” 

“What? Minho would never do that!” he says. You glare at him and he cowers down immediately. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” he admits. 

“I’m tired of him making me feel like I’m the crazy one here! Everyone I talk to shoots praises out of their ass for him and meanwhile, I’m public enemy number one. I seriously don’t know what his issue is with me and I’m getting sick and tired of everyone telling me what a great person he is!” you rant rather loudly, ending with a great sigh. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Jisung asks. You feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Yes, I have,” you tell him. “Multiple times. Each one ends in an argument or one of us storming off. I just can’t figure out what his deal is.” 

“Maybe–” 

“Sung, let’s just watch the movie, okay? I’m starting to get irritated and you’re not the one I’m upset with.” 

He concedes and snuggles in a bit closer to you, pressing play on the laptop. If you discreetly try to cover him in your own ginger scent? That’s between you and the moon goddess. 

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You find yourself in the midst of some sort of war and you’re on the losing side. Lee Minho has made it his life mission to inconvenience or irritate you in any way he can. 

Exhibit A: One morning you find yourself running late for class and you open your door just to trip over a conveniently placed pile of his shoes. Cursing his name in your head, you grab your backpack and run out the front door, just narrowly making it in time for the professor to start talking. Fast forward to the end of class when you pull out your folder just to realize that said folder is nowhere to be seen. Your homework which you spent over an hour on the previous night has vanished, gaining you a zero on the assignment. You’re sure you’re seeing red when you get home and your folder is on the kitchen counter.  

“I don’t know what game you think we’re playing, but sabotaging my grades is going too fucking far, Lee!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he sips on a cup of coffee. You fight the urge to throw it in his face. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to make me late for class and hide my folder!” you say, waving the folder in his face. He looks irritated but it’s no match for how you feel. 

“Your belongings are not my responsibility,” he says with an eye roll. “Next time maybe don’t misplace your stuff.” You leave because you’re not confident in your ability not to punch him. 

Exhibit B: Poor Jisung has tried to set up an apartment movie night. It’s a good idea, in theory, to try to get some supervised bonding. Jisung even sits right in the middle, anxiously picking at his nails the entire movie. That’s only after Minho accuses you of burning the popcorn and fighting with you over which movie to watch. Jisung ends up picking it. It was going well until he stretched his legs out over Jisung’s lap and into your space. You shove his feet off of you faster than he put them up. The action makes him almost fall off the couch and spill his soda all over himself and Jisung. 

The omega stands up covered in soda and huffs. “I give up!” he cries out in exasperation. 

“It’s her fault for pushing me–” 

“Give it a fucking rest!” you cry out. 

Everybody ends up in their respective rooms that night. 

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 You didn’t want to go to this party. You really didn’t but you figured that you owe Jisung big time for turning his apartment into a warzone. The omega already has social anxiety and doesn’t love parties himself so you promised you would tag along. 

Minho is here too. You tell yourself you won’t interact with him but you keep catching his eyes from across the room. Deep down you hope that maybe the alcohol will mellow him down a bit and make him more tolerable. And maybe you use alcohol as a coping mechanism this one night. You’re stressed and a walking ball of tension every second of each day, not even able to relax in your own apartment. 

You always have an eye on Jisung when you party together. But you indulge in some tipsy flirting for once. This guy is super cute, after all… freckled face, long blond hair that frames his face, and a deep, sensual voice that makes you giggle and fawn over him. You amp up the usual techniques, touching his arm and laughing at all of his jokes. And when he leans in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck you don’t stop him. 

But somebody else does. 

One second you're bracing yourself for a drunken kiss and the next a hand is wrapped tightly around your arm, pulling you away. You smell burnt cinnamon before you even realize what happened and the anger that bubbles in your chest is unlike any you’ve ever felt before. You retaliate just as fast with an overwhelming mix of ginger that smells so strong it burns your nose. Before you can yell you’re being pushed out the door and into the cold of the night. 

“What the fuck was that,” you spit at Minho. You yank your arm out of his grip. 

“We’re leaving,” he tells you. 

“Like hell we are! You don’t get a say of who I spend my time with or when I decide to leave.” 

“I get a say when you’re making idiotic choices,” he answers, voice low. He spins you around until you’re pinned against the wall and his skin burns hot against yours. 

“No, you don’t. You’ve made yourself loud and clear that you don’t give a fuck about me. My bad choices are mine to make, Minho, not yours.” 

“You’re not thinking straight,” he tells you once he finally lets go. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “Felix… he’s… I know him from my dance studio, okay? Just.. trust me and don’t go home with him. You can’t kiss him. Not Felix.”

“From your dance studio? Wow, ladies and gentlemen! Lee Minho has revealed exactly one thing about himself! He’s a dancer!” you say with mock surprise. You stumble a bit and Minho steadies you by your waist. It only serves to piss you off even more. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” he asks. It’s probably the softest you’ve ever heard his voice yet. 

“No. I think I’m going to go kiss Felix and you can go fuck off,” you protest. You cross your arms and you look away from him because his cheeks are also flushed from drinking and he worries his lips between his teeth so you can’t stand to see it. 

He takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I swear to god you’re going to walk home with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and bring you home myself.”

Before you snap back at him about how ridiculous he’s being, the door opens and Jisung steps out. “Guys?” he questions, looking back and forth between the two of you. You’re breathing heavily and your fists are clenched but your anger dissipates the second you see the disappointed look on Jisung’s face. He wanted you here to keep him company. To soothe his social anxiety and to prove that you could be there for him, to show up for him like old time’s sake. And just like that, the adrenaline high slowly fades when you realize you’ve let him down. Anger turns to sorrow and guilt and god, no you won’t let Minho see you cry but you bury your face into Jisung’s neck. You whisper an apology and tell him you want to go home. 

You can’t help but feel like Minho has won this round, in some roundabout twisted way. 

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You avoid leaving your room for the next day. You don’t really feel like you’re deserving of wallowing in your own sorrow, especially since the one who is impacted here is Jisung, not you. You’ve let him down. You don’t get to mope. So… what you’re doing is avoiding. Avoiding Minho and therefore avoiding any more conflict. 

It’s the next day you leave your room. You notice the scent of vanilla a little more sweet than normal and when you knock on Jisung’s door you notice he’s nesting. A mixture of your clothes and Minho’s are piled in his bed and you feel a pang of guilt in your chest. 

“You okay?” you ask. If Jisung is in preheat and you’ve avoided him for the past 24 hours, he’s probably feeling pretty antsy. He does let out a breath of relief when he sees you though and brings you in for a hug. 

But of course your timing is unfortunate because Minho unlocks the front door at that very moment. When he sees you in Jisung’s arms he growls, causing you and the omega to stiffen. Minho crosses the room in seconds and the smell of cinnamon behind you gets stronger. 

“Off,” he says low into your ear. You have half the mind to snap at him but Jisung’s vanilla scent burns. You back off, giving Jisung a small nod before disappearing to your room. The last thing you want to do is distress Jisung further just before he starts his heat. This needs to stop. It needs to end. 

Jisung leaves the next day to spend his heat in a hotel. Despite the apartment being more comfortable for him, the unit isn’t equipped to deal with the overwhelming scent of heats and ruts. You couldn’t afford a scent complaint fee. Jisung doesn’t complain as you help him pack his bags and you even help him into the hotel room. You offer your best support in helping him rebuild his nest though you don’t have the same omegan instincts as he does. 

“I’m sorry again,” you tell him before you leave. “For everything. With Minho. It’s… we’ll work it out. Okay? Love you Sung.” 

He gives you a sad smile. His heat should start by the morning, you would guess. You just hope he can be comfortable and not worry too much about you and Minho. 

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Minho is standing anxiously by the door when you get home. You half expect him to crowd you against the wall but he doesn’t, eyes glued to the floor instead. 

“You smell like him,” he tells you. 

“Yes Minho,” you reply sarcastically. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. Jisung is my friend too. You don’t have to act all possessive of him all the time.” 

He hums. You feel your blood boil again. How does he get you so worked up to the point of your heart pumping a mile a minute every time you see him? 

“Minho. Be honest,” you start. He finally looks up at you. You can’t read his face. Your alpha goes back and forth between wanting to pounce on him and run away in fear. You need to do what you think is right. “Do you want me to move out?” 

You aren’t expecting his reaction. You expect him to laugh in your face. You expect him to be overjoyed. But instead he seems shocked. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean what? Don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted from the very beginning. You win, okay? I concede. You want your space? You want to be the only alpha again? This is it. This is your opportunity. I’m offering you a way out now. No more fighting. No more upsetting Jisung. If you want me gone, just say the word. Please. I’ll leave.” 

“Don’t.” 

“What?” You almost think you’ve misheard him but he takes a step closer and he looks at you with pleading eyes. “What is your gameplan then? Why make me miserable since the second I move in? Argue with me, tell me who I can and can’t kiss, for god’s sake make me fail a fucking assignment? If you don’t want me fucking gone, Minho, what the fuck do you want–” 

You’re cut off by his lips clashing against yours so hard your head would have hit your head against the wall if not for Minho’s hands holding you as if you’re something precious. Your teeth clank together but you’re breathing him in and reciprocating his affection just as violently as he gives it. When his tongue enters your mouth and you taste cinnamon you realize you’ve never hated the smell, never hated him… He kisses into you like he needs you to breathe, like he’s been in the desert and you’re his oasis. 

You’re not sure that a kiss has ever felt like this before. You think for a moment that you might not be able to kiss anyone again after this, everyone and everything lacklustre compared to Minho. Minho. Minho. Nobody has ever and will ever make you feel this burning, boiling… hatred? lust? desire? Whatever it is you feel, you’re not sure it could be replicated. 

When you wrap your leg around his waist he grabs under your knee, hoisting you against the wall. His mouth is all over you and he explores every inch of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. Your hands take purchase on his shoulders, in his hair, you’re not sure but you want to feel every inch of him there is to explore. Cinnamon has never smelled so sweet.

Minho brings you into his bedroom and it’s the first time you’ve stepped foot into his space but you don’t take the time to look around. In fact, the only thing you notice is that his comforter is soft, soft against your back as he throws you onto his bed. Your clothes are all but shredded from your body and if you had claws you would have used them to get every inch of useless fabric off of Lee Minho’s body. It makes you angry that he’s still clothed, so angry that you forgo pleasure in replacement of ripping the clothes off of him harshly. He grins. He has that smug fucking grin on his face you want to wipe off and you kiss his stupid lips again. This time when you kiss you’re both completely naked and every part of your body that touches his is scalding. 

When you sit on his lap your bare pussy slides along his cock and you both groan. His hands are on your hips and in desperation you both move back and forth. Every time his cock catches on your entrance you both let out a hitched breath but neither of you can stop. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna knot you, you know that? I’m gonna fuck you so full and then knot you so that everybody knows you’re mine,” he pants as he ruts his cock against you desperately. Is this just another way for him to stake his claim over you? To show that he’s the true alpha? Oh hell no.

“You’re such an asshole,” you tell him with a hiss when he finally slides into you. He’s big. You already knew this from the (not so) dry humping just moments ago but it still pisses you off when he stretches you nice and full. “Stupid asshole alpha with a stupid big cock.” 

When he looks up at you it’s with adoration and it throws you off. His eyes gleam and his teeth are caught against his bottom lip in a sultry grin. He plants his feet against his bed and thrusts up into you hard and fast–you almost fall because you have no time to plant your hands anywhere for balance. But the almighty perfect Minho catches you before you fall because of course he does. His hands on your waist only hold you in place to give him the opportunity to fuck up into you with more force and the wet sounds that come from between your bodies are filthy… but only serves to turn you on even more. 

“You were saying about me being an asshole?” he asks. His voice is breathy and low and you fucking hate how much you love it. 

“If all you wanted was to fuck me this bad you didn’t have to act like such a dick,” you say through tight lips. Okay. You’re trying not to moan, to give him that satisfaction. Who could blame you? “You only made me hate you more.” 

“Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “It wasn’t on purpose… didn’t like you at first but all of a sudden it turned to lust and… can’t you feel what you do to me?” He punctuates his point with a harsh thrust and fuck, you vaguely remember him mentioning he was a dancer. Perfect body, perfect hips and thighs made just to fuck you like this. 

“How you treated me wasn’t fair,” you tell him. You need him to know and you’re lowering your hips, trapping your legs under his so he can’t bounce you up and down on his cock anymore. Your hand snakes up to his throat and takes purchase there, watching the way he gulps and his eyes turn heavy at the action. You feel a burning satisfaction at the way his hips buck into you involuntarily when you squeeze slightly. “Say it,” you coo. “I want to hear you admit to me that you know you treated me poorly.” 

You expect a fight from him because, let’s be honest, Minho always puts up a fight with you. But any ounce of opposition leaves his body the second his eyes meet yours. He looks regretful. He looks small. “I treated you poorly,” he tells you. His eyes never leave yours. “I acted like a child because I had feelings for you that were misplaced. I liked you from the beginning and I… fuck, I didn’t know how to deal with that and I pushed you away. I wanted you to hate me.” 

The confession that spills past his lips is the last thing you’re expecting him to say. Your grip on his neck falters and he uses his stupidly impressive core strength to sit up, bringing your lips into a kiss. It isn’t explosive, it isn’t word-changing, but it is sweet and apologetic and very Minho. 

He places you on your back and resumes his pace, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. At this angle he reaches deep inside you and the first time you gasp he resumes his brutal, relentless pace. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna knot you, please let me knot this pretty pussy,” he pleads. The first time he said it it was a demand; this time he asks from his soul, baring it to you and giving you ample time and opportunity to reject it. 

“Yes,” you moan. But if he’s going to claim you as his from the inside out, the least you could do is return the favor. And so you scratch Minho, raking your nails down his back until they’re sure to leave a mark. And when you’re both on the precipice you bite down onto his shoulder hard, just inches away from his scent gland. It’s not a mating bite but it is a mark, a claim. You suck hard into the bite just as he finishes, his knot expanding and catching on your entrance. You don’t release your mouth from his skin until he’s done pulsing inside you but to your surprise, he doesn’t stop moving his hips. Despite his knot locking you in place he grinds his hips into yours in small circles, putting pressure right onto your clit with his pubic bone. It’s too much, the stimulation of your clit, his knot, and the thick head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you causing you to cum around him hard with a cry. 

You feel as if you’ve been electrocuted, little shocks going through your whole body with every wave of your orgasm. You almost wish he was bad in bed, if just to keep your dignity and tell him that he wasn’t all that. But with the gutteral noises he dispelled from your body, lying would just be a farce. 

When you’ve both finally calmed down and his knot finally deflates, you half expect him to kick you out of his room. You’ve built up your walls so high around him that it’s hard to imagine him treating you any other way. You’re anxious for sure, moreso at yourself for allowing yourself to be so hopeful. But Minho rolls over and grabs you, holding you close to his chest. Even when you squirm he doesn’t dare to let you go. 

“I really am sorry,” he tells you. A murmur into your hair. “I don’t want you to move out. I’m sorry for treating you the way I did. My alpha thought… that because we like you that maybe asserting our dominance would make you like us more. I know that’s illogical and just sounds  like an excuse but…” 

“I forgive you,” you tell him. “Well… maybe I don’t forgive you just yet. But I can if you prove to me that you’re done with the macho asshole alpha act. No more being possessive over Jisung. My friend by the way! Still haven’t gotten over that. And no more sabotaging my grades.” You shoot him a glare and he only looks at you sheepishly. Harsh looks turn into soft stares and all of a sudden he’s kissing you again. Your tension has already begun to melt away. You begin to see the charm of the Lee Minho everybody has told you about and you think, maybe… just maybe everything will be okay now. 

“I think we owe Jisung a gift,” Minho whispers into your hair. 

“I think we owe him a hundred gifts,” you wince. 

“He’s not going to believe his fucking mind when he gets back.” You laugh so hard your stomach begins to hurt. You think maybe you like the way Minho looks when he smiles. You think maybe you really like the way cinnamon and ginger smell together. You think maybe you could get used to kissing Minho and that burning, bubbly feeling in your stomach agrees. 

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[helen-with-an-a]

hi, I hope you're doing well! would you be willing to write another obi smutty fic. reader gets retroactive jealousy and lena reminds y/n that she belongs to her!

Hiiiiiiii - so I've kinda of changed it a little - there's still jealousy dw but i think this is really hot ngl ahahaha. Anyways. I hope you enjoy

Jealousy

Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: R gets a little jealous on a night out

Word Count: 6.7k

TW: Smut, 18+, fingering (R receiving), semi-public sex

You adored team nights out. The laughter, the music, the energy that would pulse through you was something you had yet to experience anywhere else. When you moved to Munich last season, the nights out were a chance to fully breathe and let go of the stresses of the season.

But now, with Lena here, the nights had transformed into something even more special. Having your girlfriend wrapped in your arms turned these outings from merely fun to absolutely magical. Sharing drinks, having each other close, stealing kisses ... it made your heart happy.

But there was one thing that was souring this particular night. The perky blonde with big tits who couldn't seem to keep her eyes off Lena. You'd noticed her right away – she was attractive, you could admit that much. You weren't blind. Tall and curvy, with a smile that was perfectly crafted to draw people in. Perfectly highlighted bleach blonde hair and tanned skin that clearly came from a bottle. But there was an arrogance in the way she moved, in the way she so casually tried to insert herself into your space, as if she could simply will Lena’s attention away from you. It was an arrogance that told you everything you needed to know - she was used to getting her own way.

Every few minutes, you'd catch her glancing over, her eyes lingering on Lena in a way that made your blood simmer. Not that Lena seemed to notice. Your girlfriend was exactly where you wanted her, exactly where she wanted to be, pressed up against you. Her front was moulded perfectly to your back, her hands resting on your hips as you both swayed to the music. The warmth of her body against yours, the rhythm of her movements syncing with your own – it was intoxicating. It was grounding. Lena leaned forward, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered something that was lost in the thumping bass, but the tone of her voice, low and intimate, sent a shiver down your spine. You pressed yourself back, letting your eyes slip shut as Lena pressed a couple of teasing kisses behind your ear.

“Hallo.” The unexpected voice made you jump. Your eyes snapped open to see the blonde standing way too close for comfort.

“Um, hi?” you stammered, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. She didn’t even glance in your direction; her eyes were locked solely on Lena, as if you were nothing more than a shadow in the background.

“Hallo, ich bin Anna.” Her voice was smooth, confident, and annoyingly flirtatious. She smiled at Lena, a slow, deliberate smile that felt like a challenge. You watched in irritation as Anna's gaze swept over Lena, her eyes shamelessly taking in every curve of your girlfriend's body. Was she blind or just incredibly arrogant? Of course, you knew how gorgeous Lena was – her dark hair that framed her face perfectly, her tanned skin that seemed to glow under the club lights, and that toned, athletic body that you had admired countless times. But it wasn't for Anna to appreciate. That privilege belonged to you.

You shifted around, letting your arms slide around Lena's waist in what you hoped came off as a casual hug, though the possessiveness in the gesture was unmistakable. Lena responded immediately. Her arm draped protectively over your shoulders, pulling you closer, and she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You settled against her collarbone, feeling a surge of satisfaction as you marked your territory. It was a silent but clear message: Lena was with you.

But Anna was either too cocky or too oblivious to take the hint. "Do you want a drink?" she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet, her eyes never leaving Lena’s face. It was like you weren't even there. Your annoyance flared, a hot, simmering anger that made you purse your lips in a tight line.

“She’s got one,” you interjected, nodding toward the cocktail in Lena’s hand – the same cocktail you had been stealing sips from all night. Your words, however, seemed to evaporate into thin air. Anna acted like you hadn’t spoken at all ... like you were nothing but background noise in her attempt to flirt with your girlfriend.

Lena shifted slightly, her body tensing against yours. You felt her hold you a little tighter. “Um, no, I’m okay,” Lena finally spoke up, her voice slightly strained, clearly trying to maintain politeness whilst wishing Anna would just go away. She gave Anna a tight, uncomfortable smile, her eyes briefly flicking down to you.

Anna’s smile faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered, clearly unwilling to back down so easily.

"Are you sure?" Anna pressed on, her voice taking on a slightly pleading tone. She didn't seem to understand the concept of boundaries, or maybe she just didn't care. Her eyes flickered to Lena's nearly empty glass, a sly smile creeping onto her face as if she'd found a weak spot.

“Yeah, I'm sure” Lena replied curtly. She shifted closer to you, her body seeking the comfort and support only you could provide. You could feel the tension in her posture, the way her muscles tightened. You tightened your grip on her waist, pressing a kiss to her exposed collarbone.

Anna, however, seemed undeterred. "It looks like you're almost out," she persisted, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger in a practiced, flirtatious gesture. "Let me buy you another." Her voice dripped with forced sweetness, and the way she looked at Lena made your stomach churn. Was she really this dense, or was she just enjoying the chase? You watched in horror as she winked at Lena.

Lena hesitated, glancing at you briefly before giving Anna a tight, forced smile. "Umm, n-no thank you," she stammered, clearly trying to remain polite even though the situation had long since crossed into uncomfortable territory. Her grip on you tightened, her nails digging into your side in a silent plea for this to end.

"C'mon," Anna whined, her persistence taking on a pathetic edge. She leaned in slightly, trying to capture Lena's attention once more, her voice dipping into a whine that grated on your nerves. She reached out, clearly angling to take the glass from Lena's hand and maybe let them linger a little longer.

That was the last straw. You felt a rush of anger surge through you, hot and undeniable. Without a second thought, you pushed yourself away from Lena, closing the distance between you and Anna until you were standing chest to chest with her. Your eyes locked onto hers, your gaze cold.

"Look, babes," you said, your voice low and dangerously calm. It was the kind of calm that preceded a storm. "She said no. So back off." You could see the surprise flicker in Anna's eyes, a momentary crack in her confident facade.

"And who are you?" she shot back, her voice laced with disdain as she squared her shoulders, trying to hold her ground. It was almost laughable, this game she was trying to play.

"Her girlfriend," you declared, letting the words hang in the air between you. "So fuck off." You punctuated your words with a sarcastic wave of your hand, dismissing her like the nuisance she was. You didn't raise your voice; you didn't need to. Your tone was sharp enough to cut through the heavy beat of the music around you.

Anna's mouth opened as if to retort, but nothing came out. She stood there, blinking, clearly taken aback by your directness. For a moment, it seemed like she might try to push back again, but then something shifted in her expression. Whether it was embarrassment or just the realisation that she wasn't going to win this one, you couldn't tell. She gave a small, annoyed huff, then turned on her heel and stalked off, her confidence visibly deflated.

You exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in your body begin to unwind. Turning back to Lena, you caught the look of relief in her eyes. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around her again, pulling her close. She buried her face against your neck, her breath warm against your skin as she whispered, "Danke."

You kissed her temple, feeling the adrenaline finally start to ebb away. "Always," you murmured into her hair. You tightened your embrace, holding her close as the music pounded around you, the lights painting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor.

Lena breathed out a soft laugh against your neck, her body relaxing into yours. The tension that had stiffened her muscles melted away, leaving her pliant and safe in your embrace. You could feel her heartbeat slowing to match the rhythm of yours. You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her face, her eyes closed, her lips curved into a small, grateful smile.

“Now I really want another drink,” you said, breaking the silence with a lightheartedness that you knew would make her smile. You felt the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as you watched her reaction. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with that familiar spark that made your heart skip a beat.

"Sex on the Beach?" she asked, her smile growing as she playfully suggested your go-to cocktail. There was a teasing glint in her eyes, her expression instantly lighter now that the unwanted attention had been chased away. She knew exactly how to ease the tension, to bring you both back to the playful, sexy mood you'd been in before the interruption. It was one of the many things you loved about her – the way she could turn any situation around with just a few words and that dazzling smile.

You pretended to ponder for a moment, pursing your lips as if deep in thought. "Hmm," you mused, letting the pause linger just long enough for her to start wondering. You leaned in closer, lowering your voice so that only she could hear. “I was thinking more, sex in a nightclub,” you whispered, your words laced with a suggestiveness that made her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

She blinked, her eyebrows furrowing as she processed what you had just said. Her lips parted, and for a split second, you could see the confusion in her eyes. Did she mishear you? Was she overthinking? You relished that brief moment of bewilderment before leaning in, closing the distance between you. You tilted your head, your lips finding hers with a sense of urgency and desire that left no room for doubt.

The kiss was electric, igniting a fire that made your skin tingle. It was a different kind of adrenaline this time, one of pure, unfiltered passion. Her body melted against yours as you kissed her, the world around you blurring into insignificance.

Lena responded immediately, her initial surprise dissolving into eagerness. Her hands moved up to cup your face, fingers threading through your hair as she pulled you even closer. You could feel her smile against your lips, a silent acknowledgement that she was very much on board with where this was going. You deepened the kiss, your hands sliding across back, pressing her body flush against yours as heat pooled in your stomach.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and grinning, her eyes were darker, filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. She looked up at you, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen. "Well," she breathed out, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. "I guess I could be persuaded."

You chuckled, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way she was looking at you, like you were the only person in the room. In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just you and Lena, the two of you wrapped up in a moment that felt both thrilling and absolutely right.

"Then what are we waiting for?" you murmured, your voice husky as you traced the waistline of her trousers. Her breath hitched slightly, her eyes never leaving yours. With a mischievous smile, she took your hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and led you toward the back of the club where the shadows beckoned.

The bathroom was surprisingly decent, definitely better than some of the dingy, cramped ones you'd encountered in other clubs. Here, the lighting was dim but the floors were relatively clean, and the air, while not exactly fresh, lacked that overpowering stench of sweat and spilt alcohol that often clung to nightclub toilets. Most importantly, the stalls were designed for privacy. They were floor-to-ceiling doors, more like small, private rooms than the usual flimsy partitions that left too much to the imagination. The doors even had locks that looked like they might actually work.

Lena's hand was warm and insistent in yours as she led you toward one of the stalls, her eyes flicking around the room with a mix of urgency and caution. She paused just outside one of the stalls, hesitating for a split second, her gaze sweeping over the bathroom one last time to make sure you were somewhat alone. The music from the club was muffled, just a distant thumping bass that vibrated through the walls.

Satisfied that no one else was in the bathroom, Lena pushed open the stall door and pulled you inside with a quick, fluid motion. The door clicked shut behind you, the lock sliding into place with a solidness that made you feel unexpectedly secure. It was a small space, barely enough room for the two of you to stand comfortably, but that only added to the thrill of it all. The walls were painted a dark colour, and the dim light filtering from the ceiling created an oddly intimate vibe.

Lena turned to face you, her eyes dark and intense in the half-light. There was a glimmer in her gaze, a mixture of desire and mischief that sent a shiver down your spine. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming out in short, eager bursts. You could see the slight flush on her cheeks, the way her pupils were dilated, and it sent a rush of heat straight through you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension crackling in the air between you like a live wire.

Lena's eyes searched yours, looking for something – reassurance, consent, the same wild hunger she knew was mirrored in her own. You felt her hand tighten around yours, a silent question that needed no words. In response, you pressed your body against hers, backing her up against the wall of the stall. Her breath hitched as her back made contact with the cool surface, and a soft, almost inaudible gasp escaped her lips. You took a moment to relish the feeling of her body against yours, the way her curves fit perfectly with the angles of your own.

You brought your free hand up to cup her cheek, your thumb brushing lightly across her skin. Lena leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for just a second, a soft sigh escaping her as the tension between you coiled tighter. When she opened her eyes again, there was no hesitation, only an intense focus on you, like you were the only thing that existed in her world at that moment.

She surged forward, closing the distance between you, her lips crashing into yours with a force that took your breath away. It was a kiss that was hungry and raw, filled with urgency. Her hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer.

Your mind spun with the sensation of her – her taste, her scent, the warmth of her body against yours. It was intoxicating, all-consuming. You moaned as she dominated the kiss, slowly walking you backwards and spinning you around.

She pressed you back against the stall wall with a deliberate force that sent a jolt of excitement through your entire body. The cool, solid surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from her, every sensation magnified as her hips pinned you in place. Her thumbs dug into your sides, rubbing maddening circles on your waist. The touch was firm yet teasing, sending shivers of electricity through you, making it almost impossible to think clearly. Even through the thin fabric of your skirt, you could feel the warmth of her hands burning into your skin.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your chest heaving as you tried to regain control of your breathing. For a split second, the only sounds were the frantic thudding of your heart and the distant bass of the music outside. But Lena didn’t waste a moment. As soon as your lips parted, she moved lower, trailing her mouth along your jaw with a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your head tilt back against the wall. You were completely at her mercy, the desire coursing through you leaving you pliant and trembling beneath her touch.

Her lips found your neck, and a strangled gasp escaped your mouth as she began to suck on the sensitive skin just below your ear. It was a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain, her teeth grazing your flesh before her tongue soothed the slight sting. Each gentle bite was followed by the soft pressure of her lips, her movements precise and intentional. Lena knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece. She worked slowly, her mouth mapping out a trail of sensations that left your skin tingling and hot. When she finally began to suck in earnest, you could feel the blood rushing to the surface, a bruise forming as she worked.

Your hands flew to her hair instinctively, fingers threading through the soft strands as you gripped tightly, pulling her closer. You needed to feel her, to keep her pressed against you, to let her know that you were completely hers. Your nails scraped lightly against her scalp, and you felt her shudder against you, a low, satisfied hum vibrating from her lips and into your skin. She took the encouragement with a hunger that left you breathless, her teeth nipping at the tender spot where your neck met your shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you let yourself drown in the sensation of her mouth on you, each kiss, each bite sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins. Her hands had moved lower, fingers now tracing the hem of your dress, skimming the bare skin of your thighs. The contrast between her rough, possessive kisses and the light, teasing touch of her hands was driving you wild, a constant push and pull that left you teetering on the edge of control.

She shifted her hips slightly, pressing even closer to you, and you could feel the hard lines of her body against yours, the way she moved with a fluidity that had you melting into her. The stall around you seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with the scent of her perfume and desire. You arched against her, seeking more contact, more of the delicious friction that made your head spin. You could hear her breath hitch against your neck, the slight falter in her movements as she responded to your need with a fervour that matched your own.

Lena finally pulled back, her eyes dark and glazed with lust as she looked at you. Her breathing was ragged, her lips swollen from the kisses, and she looked at you like she was on the brink of losing herself completely. You held her gaze, your own chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to steady yourself, but the fire in her eyes only made you want her more.

“You gonna be my good girl?” Lena whispered in your ear, her voice low and sultry, dripping with a promise that sent a wave of heat rushing through you. Her lips brushed the shell of your ear as she spoke, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Her breath was hot against your skin, making your legs weak. You could only nod in response, your throat too tight with desire to form coherent words. The anticipation curled inside you, coiling like a spring ready to snap, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of her pressed against you.

Lena's lips moved down to your neck again, grazing the sensitive skin there before she continued, her voice now a husky murmur. “You gonna let me have my way with you?” The question was almost a growl, laced with a dangerous edge that made your heart race. You couldn't help the needy sound that escaped your throat, a half-gasp, half-moan that only seemed to spur her on. She shifted her hips against yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off her, the way her body moved with a predatory grace that made you feel utterly and deliciously at her mercy.

Her hands trailed up your sides, her fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they moved beneath the hem of your dress. She pushed the fabric higher, exposing more of your skin to the cool air, and you gasped as her fingertips skimmed along the edge of your underwear, teasing but not yet giving you what you so desperately craved. "You gonna let me fuck you?" she whispered, her voice growing darker, more possessive. Your back arched instinctively, pressing yourself closer to her, trying to chase the sensation, to force her hand.

You moaned at her words, your mind reeling. Lena's lips curved into a wicked smile against your skin, her teeth grazing your collarbone as she took your reaction as the permission she needed to push you further. "Right here?" she continued, her voice a seductive purr. "In this nightclub bathroom?" Her teeth nipped at the delicate skin of your shoulder, and you felt your knees threaten to give way.

Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, and you bit down on your lip to stifle the cry that rose in your throat. The bathroom stall suddenly felt even smaller, the walls pressing in around you, intensifying the heat and the scent of your arousal hung in the air. "Where anyone could walk in?" she went on, her voice dropping to a near-growl as her fingers dipped lower, hovering right where you needed her most.

"Where our team could hear us?" she pressed, her voice filled with a dark glee that sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing over you. Her fingers teased at your entrance, slick with your desire, and you choked on a moan, your hands flying to her shoulders, clutching at her for support as your body shuddered. You could barely think, your mind fogged with the intoxicating mix of excitement and raw lust. You were on the edge, teetering in that space between pleasure and the thrill of getting caught. The thought of someone hearing you, knowing exactly what was happening, made you burn hotter.

"Where Anna could hear us?" Lena's voice was a whisper now, her lips brushing against the tender skin just below your ear as she spoke. The mention of Anna sent a surge of possessiveness through you, mingling with the desire already flooding your system. The idea of the blonde hearing you, knowing that Lena was yours and only yours, made something primal flare up inside you. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling against hers as you nodded frantically, unable to find your voice to answer.

Lena didn't need to hear your words; she could feel your answer in the way your body responded to her. In the way you clung to her, the way your hips moved involuntarily, seeking the friction that would drive you over the edge. She chuckled softly, a low, dangerous sound that sent another wave of heat crashing through you. Her fingers finally slid inside you, and you cried out, your head falling back against the stall wall with a thud. Your body arched against her, your nails digging into her shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation of her touch.

"That's it," Lena murmured, her voice a dark caress against your skin. "Be my good girl. Let them hear you." Her pace quickened, her thumb circling where you needed it most, and you felt your control slipping, the world around you blurring into a haze of pleasure. The risk, the thrill of being caught, only heightened everything. You were hers ... you would give her everything she asked for.

You let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, your breath hitching with every skilful movement of Lena’s fingers. She knew your body so well, every spot that made you quiver, every place that made you lose control. Each stroke sent jolts of ecstasy surging through your veins, building an almost unbearable tension within you. "Lift your leg, baby. Open up for me." She nudged one of your legs with her knee, knocking it out to the side. You did as she asked, propping your foot up on the edge of the toilet as you moaned loudly.

The new position granted her deeper access, and you felt a fresh surge of heat as she pushed inside you with a relentless rhythm. You could feel yourself clenching around her fingers, your body reacting to every movement, every twist of her wrist. Your breath came out in ragged pants, mixing with the soft, wet sounds of her fingers working you over. You could hear yourself moaning, loud and uninhibited, the sound echoing off the stall walls. But you were far beyond embarrassment now; the pleasure was are too good for you to concentrate on anything else.

Lena's free hand moved to your mouth, her fingers pressing against your lips, demanding entrance. You parted your lips without hesitation, your mouth opening for her. She pushed her fingers inside, rough and insistent, pressing down on your tongue. You sucked on them instinctively, tasting the spilt drink from earlier, feeling the pressure of her fingers against the roof of your mouth. Her eyes bore into yours, watching every reaction, every shudder that coursed through your body. You barely keep your eyes open, everything feeling far too much yet not enough all at the same time.

Her thumb found your clit, brushing it with a firm, circular motion that had you screaming around her fingers. Your back arched, your body straining against the pleasure that was quickly becoming too much to bear. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the world around you narrowing down to the points of contact where her skin met yours. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, "That's it, baby. Tell them who makes you feel this good." Her voice was low and commanding, each word sinking into your mind and taking root.

You moaned her name, the sound muffled and garbled around the fingers in your mouth. It didn’t matter that it came out unintelligible, slurred and desperate – anyone who heard you would know exactly who was making you come undone. "Lena," you whimpered again, the word falling from your lips like a prayer, an invocation of the woman who was pushing you past the limits of control. The combination of her fingers inside you, the thumb on your clit, and the ones pressing down on your tongue was overwhelming, your head spinning as bolts of electricity soared through your body.

Her thumb moved faster, circling in time with the thrusts of her fingers, and you felt the tension in your core tighten almost unbearably. Your eyes rolled back, your body beginning to tremble as you edged closer and closer to release. Lena's fingers pressed deeper into your mouth, her palm cupping your chin, holding you in place as you writhed against her. You could feel her watching you, her eyes dark with lust, her expression one of pure dominance. She wanted you to fall apart, to let go completely, and you knew you were about to give her exactly what she wanted.

You screamed around Lena’s fingers, your entire body seizing up as the orgasm ripped through you with a force that left you gasping for air. Your muscles tightened, your hips bucking against her hand as the pleasure surged through every nerve ending, leaving you shaking and crying out her name. The world around you blurred, dissolving into nothing but the sensation of Lena's touch and the sounds of your own pleasure filling the small stall.

She didn’t stop, riding you through it, drawing every last bit of sensation from your body until you were a trembling, boneless mess against the wall. You could barely think, barely breathe, as the aftershocks rippled through you. She slowly withdrew her fingers from your mouth, your lips releasing them with a soft, wet pop. She cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing gently across your bottom lip as she watched you come down, her eyes filled with a mixture of satisfaction and possessive pride.

"That's my good girl," she murmured, her voice tender now, a stark contrast to the raw dominance she’d wielded moments before. You melted into her touch, your body still quivering as you leaned into her, craving the comfort and safety of her embrace after the intensity of what had just transpired.

She withdrew her fingers slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. There was something undeniably sexy about the way she maintained that eye contact, a silent communication that spoke of ownership and desire. She brought her glistening fingers to her lips, her gaze never wavering as she slipped them into her mouth, her tongue swirling around them sensuously. "Mmmm," she hummed with obvious satisfaction, her eyes darkening as she tasted you. "Taste so good, baby." Her voice was a husky murmur, the sound of it sending another shiver down your spine.

Her hands moved to your waist, her fingers drawing soothing, lazy patterns across your skin. You felt the warmth of her palms seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. Your legs were still trembling, your body spent from the sheer force of your orgasm, but her touch, as always, had the power to both calm and ignite you at the same time.

You looked up at her, your eyes wide and hazy with lingering desire. She leaned down, closing the small distance between you, her lips finding yours in a kiss that was gentle yet insistent. Her lips were soft against yours, moving with a tenderness that made your heart swell. You melted into her kiss, your arms wrapping around her neck to pull her closer, craving something only she could give you.

She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours as she spoke, her breath warm on your lips. "What do you think about ditching the night out and just heading home?"

You raised an eyebrow at her, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. "And what would we do at home?" you teased, your voice light despite the way your heart pounded.

Lena pretended to consider her options, her lips pursed. "Hmmm," she mused, drawing the sound out as she traced her fingers idly along your waist. "Well," she began slowly, her eyes glinting with mischief, "we could go home, have a nice, warm shower, get into bed, and have a relatively early night." She paused, letting the words hang in the air.

"Or..." She let the word trail off, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "We could go home, and I could absolutely rail you with the strap." Her voice was husky, each word dripping with promise. "I could make you feel so good," she continued, her hand sliding down to squeeze your ass, pulling you flush against her. "I could stretch you out," she whispered, her breath hot against your skin, "make you forget all about Anna." You felt a fresh wave of arousal pooling low in your belly. "Make you forget your own name." You swallowed. "I could fuck you so good that you can't walk tomorrow, that the only thing you know is who is making you feel so, so god."

You stood there, utterly stunned by her confidence, your mind reeling at the vivid images her words conjured. You blinked at her, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as you struggled to form a coherent response. The idea of her taking you home, of the things she was promising to do to you, left you dizzy with desire. You could feel your cheeks flush, heat spreading through your body as you absorbed the full impact of what she was offering.

"T-two," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. You swallowed hard, your mouth dry as you tried again. "Two. I pick option two."

Lena chuckled softly, the sound rich and sultry as it reverberated through the small stall. She pulled back slightly, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she took in your flustered state. "Gute Wahl," she purred, her lips quirking into a wicked smile. She placed a lingering kiss on your lips, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip before she pulled away. "Let's get out of here, then," she said, her voice carrying a note of authority that made you shiver in excitement.

She opened the stall door, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear before taking your hand and leading you out. She guided you through the crowd, her grip on your hand firm and possessive. You felt a rush of adrenaline as you moved toward the exit, barely waving at the girls as you walked past.

Your heart raced with a mixture of nerves and excitement as you followed her outside, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin as you stepped onto the street. Lena flagged down a cab with a quick wave, opening the door and ushering you inside. She slid in beside you, her hand immediately finding its place on your thigh, squeezing lightly. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "You have no idea what you're in for tonight."

[f1ora1f1owerswrites]

manifesting

summary: from the moment he laid eyes on you, he just knew, and he’s only ever referred to you as his wife.

warnings: she/her, mention of bars (idk), fluff fluff fluff!

word count: 521.

a/n: long time no see! i knewww i had to write something and this idea has been stuck in my noggin for quite a while. happy valentine’s day and i hope you love it!

***

The first time Jake Seresin saw you, he knew.

He hadn’t even spoken to you yet—hadn’t had the chance. You were laughing at something your friend said, eyes crinkling at the corners as you leaned against the bar at the Hard Deck, completely unaware of the way Jake was standing there, beer halfway to his lips, suddenly frozen in place.

That’s my wife.

The thought came out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of his chest. It wasn’t like him to get caught off guard, but here he was, struck dumb in the middle of the bar, watching you exist like you were placed on this Earth just for him.

The worst part? He didn’t even have the nerve to walk up and say hello.

Oh, he tried. Multiple times. But every time he got close, you were either walking away, mid-conversation with someone else, or—God forbid—he chickened out at the last second. He, Jake Seresin, who had never been shy a day in his life, had turned into a complete coward over one woman.

Still, it never stopped him from calling you what he knew you were.

Over the next few weeks, his friends caught on.

“Hangman, who the hell are you looking for?” Rooster asked one night, watching as Jake’s eyes scanned the Hard Deck like he was on a mission.

“My wife,” he answered simply.

Natasha choked on her drink. “Your what?”

“My wife,” he repeated like it was obvious. “She’s usually here on Thursdays.”

Phoenix’s eyes narrowed. “You mean that girl you won’t even talk to?”

Jake gave her a slow, lazy grin. “Manifesting, darlin’.”

Natasha and Rooster exchanged looks, then promptly burst into laughter.

“You’re ridiculous,” Rooster muttered, shaking his head.

But Jake didn’t care. Because deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time.

—

Years later, Jake leaned against the kitchen counter of the house you now shared, watching as you laughed at him—full-on, doubled-over, tears-in-your-eyes laughing.

“Wait, wait—” You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. “You’re telling me that for months before we even spoke, you were going around calling me your wife?”

Jake shrugged, sipping his coffee like it wasn’t a big deal. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You gaped at him, still half-laughing, half-astonished. “Jake. You manifested our relationship.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying, sweetheart,” he said, ever so smug.

You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing between his legs, hands resting on his chest. “So, let me get this straight—you saw me once, decided I was going to marry you, and just… ran with it?”

Jake set his coffee down and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Darlin’, the second I laid eyes on you, I knew there was no way in hell I was lettin’ you be anything but mine.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in them betrayed you. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “But I was right, wasn’t I?”

You huffed a small laugh, leaning into him. “Yeah, yeah. You were right.”

Jake grinned, pressing his lips to yours. “Told ya.”

[three--rings]

I had this one prof IN COLLEGE who was really old and tenured. He taught Psychology of Learning but he was stuck in the 60s on behaviorism and his big thing was he'd worked with BF Skinner on a study once. Like, put up a slide on the board going "here's a photo of me and Skinner!" And told us stories about all his animal experiments.

We had a big paper we could do on any theorist in the field and I chose someone I'd studied in another class. When he handed the paper back he handed it to me and he said "where did you find this guy?" and I said "I studied him in another class" and he said "oh, I've never heard of him."

And he gave me a C on the paper. Mostly because I cited using MLA style and not APA (I was an English major. He didn't say anything about it in the assignment! I was supposed to just know!) And I presume because he thought I picked some random nutjob to talk about.

But then I checked, and this guy and his theories of learning were MENTIONED IN THE TEXTBOOK FOR OUR CLASS. Yanno, the book he was supposed to be teaching but which I'm pretty sure he'd never touched.

when i was a kid i got a 90% on my kindergarten "what are your favorite things?" test because for the question "what is your favorite animal?" i wrote down "puma" and it got marked wrong because my teacher said a puma isnt even an animal its a kind of shoe

[st7rnioioss]

bestfriend!chris x inexperienced!reader lore fic? like pre smutty smut?

BSF!CHRIS x INEXPERIENCED!READER ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

˚𝜗𝜚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬... fluff, swearing, light angst, mentions of blood, mentions of reader being insecure and bullying, kissing, p in v, protected sex (short description).

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟ the summer of 2008

the sun was hot and blinding in the backyard of chris’s house, the sun hat you had on nicely covering you from any sunburns.

you were sitting in the sandpit, legs sprawled out to each side, rummaging around with a cup. your curious eyes kept track of how the sand would ooze out, landing in the spot right in front of you, creating a pyramid-shape of sand.

“hey, i want that one,” you heard chris say from next to you, messily reaching over to grab the cup from your hands.

you were confused at first, looking over at him playing with it after he’d snatched it right from your grip. a pout formed on your lips, furrowing your brows while reaching back for the cup.

“no, chris! it’s mine, i was using it first!” you whined, grabbing the cup from him. chris groaned, standing up to move in front of you, but you held the cup close to your chest, turning your body away from him.

“go away, chris! i had it!” you protested again, but suddenly he sat down, his small hands reaching the other edge of the blue cup.

“give it to me! it’s my turn! you’re done using it, let go of it!” he whined back, pulling on the plastic, but not strongly enough to take it from your grasp.

“chris, i said stop!” you cried, growing frustrated and annoyed by chris and how he didn’t seem to understand you were using it first, how he’d basically stolen it from you.

“i said let go!” he yelled with his childish voice, obviously mad from how his brows knitted together, seemingly not caring about the fat tears starting to prick in the corners of your eyes.

all that went down, until you let go, not wanting to fight further. but chris was still pulling hard, causing him to accidentally hit himself right in the face with the cup, the corner cutting the edge of his eyebrow right open.

“ow!” he yelled, immediately losing his grip of the cup, which you carefully reached for to take it back, all while curiously watching his face twist up in pain.

hot tears ran down his chubby cheeks, his small fingers running across the bleeding wound while he cried from the stinging and ache.

“i’m sorry, chris. i didn’t mean to do that..” you mumbled while looking at him with a perplexed and puzzled look, your wide and confused eyes stuck on his eyebrow that was trickling with blood.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟

later that day, chris was sitting in his living room with his brothers, all sucking on a popsicle while engrossed in some cartoon on the tv, a bandaid stuck to chris’s brow.

you had been out in your own backyard after your ran home when chris’s mom told you he was gonna cool down for a minute, picking some daisies for him, pinching them between your fingers.

the doorbell then rang in the sturniolo household, and chris’s mom opened it to find you standing there, shyly waving at her.

“hi, mary-lou,” you smiled, looking behind her to see if chris was sitting on the couch, which he was. “can i play with chris?”

you looked back up at her with big eyes, showing her the flowers you’d picked out.

“oh, sure sweetheart. he’s right in there,” his mom opened the door wider for you with a smile, noticing you seemed somewhat eager to get chris. hastily you made your way to the living room, waving at matt and nick.

“hi chris,” you smiled, crawling up into the couch to sit next to him, shuffling between him and nick.

chris glanced at you, before his eyes made their way to the flowers in your hand, looking somewhat curious.

“hi. why do you have flowers?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side, his brows furrowed. his lips and the corners of his mouth were red from the popsicle, clearly sticky from the sugar too.

“they’re for you. sorry about your eyebrow,” you held your hand out for him to take the flowers, somewhat squished and missing a few petals, but still—it’s the thought that counts.

chris looked down at them in his own hand when he grabbed them, before placing them on the coffee table in front of you to keep them safe.

he gave you a faint smile, before he looked at the lollipop that was melting down his tiny fingers.

“do you want a popsicle?” and that was all you needed to hear in order to know you were forgiven, smiling widely with a frantic nod, swinging your legs back and forth.

“mom, can i grab another popsicle?” he turned to look up at his mom, who was a little too busy with her camera, snapping a few pictures of the two of you.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟

sometime in 2017

“mom, you’re not being fair!” you yelled from your room with a pillow clutched to your chest, your mom standing on the other side of the door.

you had a frown stuck to your lips, your brows furrowed in frustration, as well as tears welling in your waterline. you looked down at the small bag you had packed to bring for a sleepover with those few friends you had, only for your mom to tell you that you couldn’t go.

“stop, sweetie. i don’t wanna hear any more. dinner is ready soon,” your mom said before making her way back downstairs, leaving you angry and upset in your room.

sitting on the edge of your bed, you could look straight out your window, facing chris’s. you could peek some movements in there, and that was sign enough to pick up your phone and call him.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟

“she was being so annoying! i literally planned it all out with my friends, and then she told me i couldn’t go!” you laid with your back to chris’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. chris was doing the same, laughing lightly along with you when you broke a laugh at your upset self. he turned to look at you, poking your shoulder.

“hey, but now we’re having a sleepover. it’ll be ten times more fun,” he smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back even wider, nodding along with his words.

“yeah,” you giggled, shooting a quick glance at the bag from earlier thrown onto chris’s floor. then to ruin the moment, your phone started buzzing with an incoming call. you rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone only to see your moms contact name.

“fuck,” you groaned, forgotten all about the dinner your mom had prepared and how’d you snook out. it was like this most days and weekends. whenever your parents weren’t being fair (in your eyes), you would immediately be welcomed in chris’s room and vice versa, spending the night eating snacks and watching some stupid show you never got to finish because you always ended up talking over it.

it was nice to have someone to hold your back, always there for you.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟

winter, 2018

the tension in the room was thick—so thick you could basically cut through it and finally get out of the room you usually enjoyed staying it. but not right now, not at all.

you sat on the carpeted floor of chris’s bedroom, leaning against the bedframe, his bed occupied with chris himself and his girlfriend. you had this faint idea she had something against you, but you didn’t know what. did you presence annoy her? was this the typical “his girl best friend” situation? gosh, you needed to leave.

“i’m- i’m gonna leave, sorry.. uh- dinners ready soon, so..” you muttered awkwardly as you stood up, glancing at chris and the girl slung under his arm. chris’s eyes immediately flickered to you. “are you sure? i mean, we just- just started..” his words were quick, almost begging for you to stay.

“chris, let her leave if she wants to,” his girlfriend shot in, giving you a look that spoke nothing close to kindness. embarrassed, you nodded slowly, giving him a hesitant wave before you closed his door behind you.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟

summer, 2019

the girls at your school could be.. heinous to say the least. chris had gotten a good handful of friends throughout freshman year who he decided to introduce you to—and lucky, you quickly all got along. but the popularity of him and his friends rapidly grew, and so did the attention from girls.

hot tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, sniffling and trying your best not to cry in the empty bathroom. you were anxiously bouncing your leg, staring down at your fingers while fiddling and fidgeting with them. you just couldn’t get those girls words out of your head.

“they’re definitely more than friends, but i don’t get it. she’s so weird.”

“you could never be good enough for chris, are you kidding?”

“chris would never go for a girl like her, have you seen her? they’re definitely not dating, he’d be dumb to.”

no one understood you were just friends, though maybe, just maybe, you wanted more than that. so with that feeling in your gut already, their words only made you feel ten times more shitty. you truly believed chris would never see you as more than a friend. i mean, at least he was single now, right?

you wanted to ask him out, you really did. but when most days were spent like this, crying and second guessing yourself, was it really worth it? to ruin a perfect and life long friendship?

and were you really that dumb? would chris ever like you as more than a friend? maybe they were right, you weren’t pretty enough.

all those thoughts kept running through your mind until the bell rang, and you hastily stood up, grabbing your bag and making your way out of the stall. quickly, you took a look at yourself in the mirror, attempting to wipe away the tears for your eyes and the few that had escaped to your cheek.

…

“what- justin? are you serious? he’s like, super annoying,” chris gasped, nearly losing grasp of the burger in his hand. you blushed, shrugging while avoiding chris’s eyes, adverting your eyes down at your fries instead. all this talk about chris and whether you were dating him or not lead to you trying to push it away—to find someone else to think about.

chris’s stomach did a weird flip when you said you had a secret crush on a guy, something twisted with jealousy. but he’d never admit it, not to anyone. his brows were furrowed, his head tilted slightly to the side while he stared at you, still struck.

“i dunno.. he’s kinda sweet. and his summer tan is really nice.” you mumbled, stuffing a few more fries into your mouth, looking up at chris. he raised his brows with a smirk, lightly chucking. “you’ve never talked to him, have you?”

your cheeks reddened, but you broke into a giggle along with chris, shaking your head from side to side before you breathlessly spoke up.

“no.. not really.”

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟

fall, 2019

“i don’t know- i just.. i feel weird. everyone thinks we’re dating. don’t you think so? that it’s a little weird?” you questioned, turning to look at chris.

it was one of the usual friday’s. chris had finished practice earlier, just out the shower, and now sitting next to you in bed. just like normally, a movie was playing, but you had both forgotten about it.

he felt a weird twinge of feelings raise in his stomach at your words, suddenly feeling a little hot and quizzical—wasn’t this the perfect time to tell you? to pull you in for a kiss? no. there’s never be a perfect time, and he knew.

“i- i don’t know. a little?” his words were hesitant, keeping his eyes on the screen in front of you, acting interested. “but i mean.. we’re basically together all the time, so.. i-i kinda get it.”

your ears turning red and scorching when he spoke, as well as your cheeks. he kind of gets it? what was that supposed to mean?

all you could do was nod, giving his face a quick glance, flickering to his lips before a the tiniest, faintest smile pulled on the corners of your lips. “yeah.. makes sense.” your head leaned onto his shoulder, shuffling closer to him.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟

spring, 2022

your eyes were avoiding chris’s, mindlessly searching around the café you were sitting in, chris doing the same. your fingers were laced together with his over the table, awkwardly waiting for the coffee you’d just ordered a few minutes ago.

your smudged lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile, your face tinted a little pink—but not as much as his. chris was trying everything against his will to pull you out of the, actually really nice café, and kiss you senseless, just liked he’d done fifteen minutes ago in his car. “um, so.. d-do you think this is a good?” his free hand turned the menu to you, pointing at the name of a sandwich.

your eyes dipped to the card in front of you, reading over the ingredients. “yeah, yeah it does. do you wanna get it? we could share it.”

all the times you’d gone out with chris for lunch never felt like this. but it made sense. he wasn’t just your best friend anymore. this time it actually had a meaning—he’d asked you out on a date.

he nodded, making eye contact with you for the first time since you had sat in his car, blinking a couple times, but keeping his eyes on yours. “that sounds good.. yeah.” swiftly, he leaned closer to leave a loving but soft kiss to your cheek.

you laughed, shoving him off when he continued, finally feeling that wall of awkwardness fall. “chris, stop. you keep doing that,” you continued giggling, finally succeeding in pushing him away. “i’m just making up for all the time i wasted not doing that,” he murmured with a wide, lovestruck smile, his free hand cupping the side of your face to kiss you properly, definitely making a few heads turn.

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟

february 14th, valentine’s day, 2025

your face was flushed pink, a small layer of sweat beading across your forehead and bare chest. the marks chris had left earlier on your neck and collarbone matched the smudged but red color on your lips—which was now transferred to his chest, burgundy imprints of your lips pressed to his skin.

“gosh, i love you.. so much, you have no idea angel,” chris’s arms were tightly wrapped around you, one draped under your waist, the other one around the back of your neck while he jerked his hips forward, holding up close. chris’s lips occasionally brushed against yours, the moans you both let one mixing together in a harmony.

you hadn’t planned on having some cliché valentine’s day plans together, especially the red petals and balloons on the bed you had seen and laughed at on the internet. sure, you went out earlier to enjoy the friday, but neither of you expected it to turn into this.. okay lie, you both definitely expected this, but neither of you vocalized it.

now you had your legs wrapped around his waist like he had instructed you to do. but to your pleasure, you dug your heels into his lower back with every thrust, pushing him deeper. “ah, chris, i- i love you too.. so good chris,” a whimper left your maroon, parted lips, before they collided with his.

your sweet noises and praise sent a twinge of fire down his spine, groaning loudly into the kiss when yours fingers pulled him closer by his hair. “can’t- can’t believe i wasted more than half my fucking life without you like this.. i- gosh, i’m so crazy for you,” his words sent electricity through your veins, arching your back to let his chest press to yours with a loud cry of his name.

in the end, you knew deep down it was all worth the wait. your friendship had bloomed into something much more beautiful, much more than just friends.

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader here!

˚𝜗𝜚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬... first part is based on a true story. i accidentally cracked a girls brow up, sorry! anyway, it’s valentine’s day so i felt like adding some smut.. just because. sorry😇🤍

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

❛❛ © 𝐒𝐓𝟕𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ❜❜

[mahyuume]

CAPABLE OF LOVE!

— synopsis. the ways he proofs being capable of showing love!

pairing. various!haikyuu, jjk, bllk, mha x reader | genre. romance, fluff, crack.

reminders. I’m posting after a suuuper long break, hope you guys like this! | mlist

I THINK I NEED I NEED A PICTURE, is something you’ve said countless times to your boyfriend (who will one day be your husband) then proceeding to whip out any kind of device capable of taking a photo. Currently, is happening right now.

“Baby, we need a picture, again!” You gleam at him, the look on his face already dreading the next fifty photos going to be taken; exhausted from taking the last hundred— or maybe more than that photos. But, reluctantly, he agrees. “Fine, but this is the last time,” the boy sighs then flashes his award winning smile. Just in time for- click! that. Now holding the freshly printed Polaroid, he takes a look at your face instead of the physical copy of you both.

Staring at the facial features adorned on you, he sees no flaws whatsoever. He stares at your eyes; shiny but with the hints of clear joy. Lips— he’s kissed them multiple times, but never got over how soft and plush they felt. Always wondered how you do it.

“Are you even listening to me?” You turned your head to him, giving him a small frown. He snaps back into his senses from you cutting his train if thought; now darting back at your eyes, then lips again. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, trying to get rid of all the mushy thoughts in his head. “What were you saying?” Giving a small huff, you re-explain why you both need so many photos. But truth be told, he wasn’t listening one bit. Okay, just a little, but your face is something he could look at for hours. The look of love is real when it comes to him, due to the fact that he always manages to accidentally ignore you; all while adoring you.

As voices drown out, he thinks about adding this new photo to the heart shaped Polaroid collection in his room. Cracks out a stupid smile, then further proves to be undeniably whipped for you.

TOBIO KAGEYAMA, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, NAGI SEISHIRO, RIN ITOSHI, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, SHOTO TODOROKI, NEITO MONOMA.

‘CAUSE IT’S NEVER ENOUGH! Is what your boyfriend says almost if not every-time he gifts you things. His reasoning is always “just because” and that he truly meant it when he said if he could give you the whole world, he would. And what I just relayed out for you to process, plays out in your daily life. And is, right now.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Repeated sounds of the doorbell chiming in your ear, you smile as you already know who’s behind the door while opening it for your love. But this time like most, it’s not your love facing you. It’s a big teddy bear that’s twice his size. You’re even surprised a thing like that could fit into his car!

“And who is this for?” You question him, a silly one at that. “Some cute girl I met.” He responds but not so clearly since the bear completely hides his figure besides the arms of his holding it up, drowning in the big fluffy stuffy. You roll your eyes at his answer, “Oh? Come in and tell me all about her.” Entertaining him, you take the legs of the bear and help him inside. And oh my, it was pretty heavy. But no surprise your super strong fiancé could lift it without a sweat.

“I would but…” “But?” “I have more things for the pretty girl inside my car,” he looks over at you with a stupid smile. “If you don’t mind.” He says while walking away back to the front door in a seemingly rush.

Coming back, his hands and arms are full of designer goods, and some even being valentine gifts. Talk about a man who can treat!

“You got me all this?” A gasp leaves your pretty lips as he stares at them, it making him smile in return too. “Yup.” Helping him get the bags, he watches you with a dumb look that makes you wanna slap him for being such a mushy lover. Of course, in a good way!

Opening your early valentine gifts, each one never failed to surprise you and leave you even more grateful for the man watching and recording your reactions. He points to the Nekta bag next to you. In the video, you’re surrounded by countless luxury brands but he decides to point out a specific one.

“Open that one baby.” He smirks behind the camera, watching your face twist into one of excitement and shying away from the camera. “Why? What’s in here?” You say as your paid for nails on hands reach for the Nekta bag. Opening it, there’s many boxes to choose from. You’re not sure which he meant. “Which one?” He points to a small one, the tiniest out of the bunch.

Unraveling the box and seeing the message, cluelessly, you didn’t notice how your boyfriend set down the phone and got down on one knee.

‘Look in front of you dummy.’ You read aloud then looked up. And there he was, holding the missing ring from the box, proposing to you with it.

“Will you marry me?”

HAJIME IWAIZUMI, SATORU GOJO, SAE ITOSHI, REO MIKAGE, KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

TO SEE YOU SMILING IN MY MIND is a memory you often hear being told over and over again by your boyfriend. His dreams of you both are beyond romantic or very dramatic, there’s really no in between.

By far the most exaggerated thing he’d ever say is something about how you two turned into fishes and lived a happy life together swimming around the ocean, avoiding sharks and fishermen. But this time, it’s quite different.

Ding! Ding! Your phone goes off at 7:35pm, right as you’re getting ready for bed or doing whatever it is. Checking what notified you, a smile lit across your face as you read your boyfriend’s display name.

Weird random: Babe

Weird random: I had another dream call me rn it’s so important

Giggling and mentally calling him a weirdo, you read the messages in-app then click the Video Call option.

“Oh my gosh baby, you won’t believe what I dreamt of.” Is what you hear your boyfriend say from the audio of your phone that’s now prompt up on a water glass as a substitute for a stand. “What’d you predict this time?” You cheekily asked him as he closes the space between his device and face; now a super close up of him is in your screen.

You’re not complaining though. He’s in one of those hoodies you promised yourself to ‘borrow’ one of these days and has messy bed hair, which tells you he just woke up from a nap.

“Okay so like, it’s me and you right,” he settles his phone down somewhere around his house, now making hand motions like a story teller. “Mhm.” “We’re having this cute date and stuff right.” “And?” “And then like, you look so beautiful. Like so, like, just so beautiful that flowers bloom when you walk near them type of beautiful!”

Laughing at his silly compliment, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks turn a pink hue. “You’re so corny I swear…” it’s his turn to laugh at your comment, “Come on girl, don’t tease me like that.” His voice suddenly turns into one more of a softer beat, “hurts my feelings.” He says as he puts a hand on his heart, seemingly clutching it. Rolling your eyes at your favorite boy, he continues on with his story- dream. His dream.

“Then boom, some random dude comes up to you and goes like ‘hey you’re pretty’ and I’m like ‘dude back off’ and then we get into a fight in order to see who wins your love.” At this point he was just background music as you did your night routine. “Babe, are you even listening?” Or maybe not.

“Of course I am.” You look at him from the side of your eye, noticing how he’s now closer than earlier. “Doesn’t seem like it.” From the looks of it, it seems like you’re plain out ignoring him. But you’e not, really! “Promise I am.” Adjusting the camera to face you fully now, he focuses on you rather than talking about his hefty dream storyline.

“What if I just married you, like, tomorrow?”

What a nice question he asked, and your answer is…

“I don’t know?” You stop doing whatever you’re doing and look at him. “Why’re you asking?” “No reason.” Liar. “Stop lying!” His hands go up in protest, “I’m not!” He looks away for a bit then returns to stare at you. “Just… just had a dream about it.” And it clicks.

“So that’s what you were trying to tell me?” And like that, it’s as if a lightbulb went off in his head. “Ah, I guess so…” he muttered, hand on his nape as he realizes he’s not the best at lying when it comes to you. “I mean, come on!” He finally breaks, “you looked so good in the wedding dress and we…” his voice trails off the second you were getting invested.

“We?” You omit him to continue, but it comes out hurriedly. “We had a big, happy family. Like seriously happy.” He admits with a smile, clearly smitten about you. This makes you innerly gush about him.

“Yeah?” “Yeah. We did.” He sighs, “If only it were true.” He fake pouts, an ugly thing he does that makes you laugh horribly. “I mean, it can be.” You nonchalantly said, as if you weren’t wishing for the same thing. His eyes light up from your sentence, lips curling into a smile. “You can’t take that back!” You laugh at his antics, “as if I would ever.”

SHOYO HINATA, TOORU OIKAWA, YUUJI ITADORI, MEGURU BACHIRA, YOICHI ISAGI, KEIGO TAKAMI (HAWKS).

​৻ꪆ. Happy valentines everyone! I hope you like this one. (It’s been planned ever since December.) there were supposed to be two more lines added but I seriously ran out of time and didn’T know who else to write for… so, take this??