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[wispeth]

(doppelganger Merlin au. Arthur is looking at two Merlin's, who both have all of Merlin's memories, except the imposter doesn't have magic. which is perfect, because the real Merlin lied so flawlessly to Arthur that imposter Merlin would have a real chance to take over Merlin's life. oh and, uh, Merlin was drugged w a truth serum. so he can't lie about the magic if it comes up. The imposter is able to pretend to be Merlin better than Merlin can bc ofc the magic comes up.)

Arthur: What's the first thing you ever said to me?

Imposter Merlin, confidently: Hey, that's enough. You've had your fun my friend.

Real Merlin, dazed, looking over at the imposter in horror as he realizes that the imposter has all of his memories, and that the imposter is actually capable of lying rn unlike himself, which means Real Merlin can't even keep up his own facade, but the imposter can: (says exactly the same thing in perfect unison with the imposter, but looks a lot more lost and shaken about it)

Arthur, narrowing his eyes at them both: What is your favorite tunic to dress me in?

Imposter Merlin: The red one. (It was a fair enough assumption. It was the one that Merlin picked out for Arthur to wear more than any of the others.)

Real Merlin, unable to believe he's about to admit this, but he has truth potion in his system: Your nightshirt, when you decide to wear it... It is--you look the happiest, in that one. (gay sweatdrop)

Arthur, kind of floored by the vulnerability: (was honestly expecting Merlin to say the red one, but now he wasn't so sure because that also sounded like something girlish that Melrin might say) Alright... How many times have you saved my life?

Imposter Merlin, gleeful on the inside because he finally has a chance to play Merlin's part while Merlin can't even maintain his own web of lies because of the truth potion: (to this imposter's credit, he is very good at pretending to be merlin. he starts mumbling to himself and counting on his fingers, just as Arthur thought Merlin might have done.) Let's see, there was the dagger, the poison, the... (proceededs to ramble off most every single one that Arthur himself is aware of) ... so that's about, a dozen? I'd say?

also Imposter Merlin: (places his hands on his hips in Merlin's sassy way) I'm starting to think you owe me a day off.

Real Merlin, voice shaky, because they are getting nearer and nearer to the topic of magic: Twice a fortnite for as long as I've lived in Camelot... That's got to be in the hundreds by now.

Arthur, suddenly remembering all the creatures of the week that suddenly disappeared before they became a problem. He knew of about one every month or two, but he started reconsidering if his guardian angel had been taking care of threats that he perhaps DIDN'T know about: Erm... (still can't tell who the real Merlin is, because one of them is giving all the answers he's looking for and is acting exactly like he would expect Merlin to, but the other Merlin is being so damn earnest right now, as Merlin was wont to do in times of crisis) What is--what's an honest truth that you've told me that I have mistaken for a lie?

Imposter Merlin, knowing that he's being quizzed on the memories of their shared history, without missing a beat: Valiant's shield. It was enchanted with those snakes. You got into a world of trouble for confronting him about it in front of the entire court. (aka exactly the answer that Arthur was expecting from the real Merlin)

Real Merlin, with a knot in his throat and tears in his eyes because he knows he's doomed: (the first instance that came to mind was that time he saved Gwen's father from sickness using magic and Gwen got thrown in the dungeons for being an alleged sorceress--and of course that was his first thought, he is very very paranoid about the magic so it's all he's thinking about--he has to say the first one for the sake thought for the sake of honesty, even though it's damning) Gwen's not the s-sorcerer... I am. (is also making exactly the same face that he was making the day that he told Arthur about Valiant's shield, the face where he is pleading for Arthur to believe him. The imposter only has access to Merlin's memories through Merlin's eyes, so the imposter wasn't able to see what Merlin's face did that day, so he wouldn't have known)

Arthur, now even more unsure, just gapes for a moment because how fucking stupid does someone have to be to confess to sorcery in Camelot? Twice?! And it was worse yet that he still couldn't tell for sure which Merlin was the real Merlin because he'd never had to combine the image of Merlin with magic before and gods damn it all he needed a moment to process: (decided to start asking Merlin questions about himself instead of quizzing him on information that Arthur already knows) Who was your first love? (fully expecting to hear Gwen's name, although, Merlin was quite flamboyant....)

Imposter Merlin: It was Will... (blushes a little, looking flustered and matter of factly at the same time, in that awkward way that mimics merlin perfectly) You met him, in Ealdor.

Real Merlin, sneering at the imposter in the way that he did Cedric when he was bitter about replaced by a possessed man in the Cornelius Sigan incident (a/n: even though the episode I mention in this line is a totally different one. I think I mix referenced a lot of episodes in this ramble actually): H-her name was Freya. You killed her.

Arthur, alarmed: Killed her? Wh--Merlin--not Merlin--Merlin? (stammers on how to address this Merlin, tosses his hands up after 0.5 seconds) I do not recall killing any village girls in Ealdor..!

Real Merlin, shaking his head: She was the bastet. It wasn't her fault, she was cursed by a sorceress to become a bastet at night. It wasn't your fault either, you did what you had to; I don't blame you for what happened.

Arthur, suddenly remembering that night, remembering how Merlin was reaching for the dangerous feline beast as if it were only a kitten, as if Merlin was going to pet it, or shield it from Arthur, or any other number of things that also seem so very Merlin. Arthur hadn't even considered it before, but now? Looking back? Merlin certainly had been remarkably upset in the passing days after that: (more confused than ever) Wh... Where did -- where were you, yesterday? (Gaius already told Arthur that Merlin was at the tavern)

Imposter Merlin: At the Rising Sun. Gwaine took me out for a round of drinks. Something about a lucky charm?

Arthur, nodding along: (it was true that Arthur has heard Lancelot and a few other knights call Merlin a lucky charm) Hm... (turns to look at the other Merlin)

Real Merlin, with a wobbling lip: (laughs weakly, rolling his teary eyes a bit) I told him to stop using that excuse... (refocuses) I was crawling out of the mirror, if you must know. I TOLD you I had a funny feeling about it. (motions to the imposter) (he has tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, and his voice sounds exactly the same as it did that one time when he said to Arthur 'you're certainly not' after Arthur told him that no man was worth his tears)

Arthur, now watching Real Merlin more closely than Imposter Merlin, searching: Who was your favorite guest to mock at the feasts and whatnot?

Imposter Merlin: (kind of stumped bc he wasn't expecting a question like this)

Real Merlin, who is actually able to answer first after some thought: ..... (snorts) Does-- (snorts again) Would the Lady Catrina count as a guest, d'you think? Or should I--no--I'll say it was the Lady Vivian. You get this, LOOK on your face every time she sits near you at the banquet table when she comes 'round.

Arthur, jaw dropped in mock offense: Because she is rather touchy! We've been over this..! (doesn't even realized that he just responded to Real Merlin as if he were for sure the real Merlin, and momentarily forgot that there were two convincing Merlins present)

Imposter Merlin: Are you mad? Arthur, the fake me said it himself that he crawled out of the mirror and practices sorcerery..! (looks so earnest, so genuine, but it's just... not quite how Merlin would say it)

Arthur: (narrows his eyes at the imposter with slight suspicion)

Imposter Merlin: (gives Arthur a flat look, exactly like the real Merlin would do when Arthur says something stupid) Arthur, I am not a sorcerer. You would know. (a/n: last episode style)

Arthur, who had never once suspected magic, but did always know that Merlin had been keeping a secret from him (he'd always assumed it was the alcoholism, but now....): You'd think so, wouldn't you.... (glances at the real Merlin, looking a little hurt)

Real Merlin, not denying the magic at all: I was born with it. I use it for you, Arthur.

Imposter Merlin: You can't honestly--

Arthur, looking deep into Real Merlin's eyes: Swear to me, right now, that you are telling me the truth. Prove it to me.

Real Merlin: (grabs the hidden dagger out of the imposters hands, who had apparently been gearing up to attack Arthur, which is confusing enough all on its own because it made it difficult to tell which one of them was truly intent on attacking Arthur with it, and then charges Arthur)

Arthur, who normally has keen warrior reflexes but not when his enemies wear Merlin's face: (freezes up, and then watches in shock as the dagger clashes against the thin air about an inch in front of Arthur's chest, cast aside by some glowing shield that fades after a second)

Real Merlin: Why do you think it takes me three hours to polish your armor? Do you have any idea how long it takes to enchant the space between every link of chainmail? (drops the dagger at Arthur's feet so he knows it was just a demonstration and not a genuine attack, similar to the way that Arthur always aims just to the left of Merlin when he's throwing blunt objects such as goblets because he never wishes any actual harm on Merlin)

Arthur, blinking dazedly: (can't help but think of that one time that Merlin spontaneously became talented at juggling. it's such a strange thing to remember, and completely unrelated to the current happenings, but Merlin's smile was small and smug just like it had been that day, and it just--clicked)

also Arthur, looking slightly more sure of himself now: (needs one final test to make absolutely certain, but he thinks he knows just what to ask) What would you have me do, if I cannot tell you apart?

Real Merlin, without missing a beat: Arrest us both. (shrugs casually) I am a sorcerer after all. Better safe than sorry.

(And that's just it, isn't it. It was just like Merlin, to sacrifice himself like that. It was just so, unmistakenly Merlin.)

Arthur, smirking in mock offense: Better safe than--excuse you, I could take you apart with one blow!

Merlin *cough*hearteyes*cough* "Emrys" Hunithson™, the one and only: I could take you apart with less than that

(In the end, Merlin walks himself to the dungeons as the imposter is arrested, just to give Arthur peace of mind so there's no pressure to second guess his decision since even if Arthur chose wrong, there is no assassin Merlin imposter on the loose. Merlin and the imposter both spend 3 days in their respective cells before the imposter finally does some decidedly out of character shit and Arthur can have him executed with full confidence that it's not Merlin... since the guy really was very good at mimicking Merlin. Arthur didn't even realize that he'd needed it at the time, but looking back, he probably would have had a panic attack as the imposter was marched to be hanged. He probably would have doubted himself at the last second and wondered if he really did believe the right Merlin those few days ago. But thankfully, Merlin thinks ahead sometimes and is actually quite thoughtful and wise on these such rare occasions.)

[madaqueue]

CARVE ME UP AND EAT ME

there was almost no information on the mysterious cult nestled into the mountainside near your hometown, with even less knowledge about its leader. curiosity sets you on your path to investigate, but something else manages to keep you.

pairing: vampire!suguru geto x f!reader

themes/content: dark content (dubcon). smut. cult leader suguru, blood drinking/feeding, like mind control-ish? idk i was making up vampire rules here, pet names (little lamb), oral (reader receiving), p in v (missionary). 18+, MDNI (wk: 7.6k)

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!! thanks for getting freaky with me this month, it's been such a blast and i love you all!!!! hope you get to dress up and have lots of yummy candy tonight :) mwah!!!!!

quintober masterlist | main masterlist

People rarely came back from the mountains.

When they did, they were…different. Months, even years having passed from their disappearance, and suddenly returning with no memory of it. As though their time away suddenly ceased to exist. They couldn’t recall what they had done, who they were with, anything that could help the townspeople pin down the mysterious group making their home in the depths of the woods.

Any efforts to catch the so-called cult were obviously futile - the town lost enough soldiers that the leaders decided it was pointless to send anymore sacrifices.

So, there was a sort of peace. Well, less peace, and more a silent war, a battle of contempt, one that left everyone on edge. Whenever someone went missing, the entire village stood on edge, waiting but never searching.

But you were trained well, oh so well.

“Never go out at night.” “Never stray from us.” “Never get lost.”

“Never go into the mountains.”

They praised you for your obedience, feeding it to you from dirtied palms, making you kneel before them to drink from it. It felt good to be good.

Obedience is strength.

Their orders pulled at the strings of your muscles, dictating your actions, your movements, your very thoughts. They pulled and pulled and pulled until you were stretched taut, desperately tightening you into a form they deemed desirable.

It was only a matter of time before the strings snapped.

The fight was blurry now, nothing more than screams and tears and broken expectations so sharp you worried you may cut yourself. Your feet hit the ground outside your parents’ home faster than you could breathe in the burning air, cold in your lungs.

You had always obeyed.

So now, perhaps you could enact your final act of disobedience. The one thing that had been taught to you so deeply until it buried itself under your skin.

The path up the mountain wasn’t nearly as dangerous as others made it seem. Truthfully, it was shockingly well-maintained, the occasional branch snapping under your feet but no other obstacles.

What could even be so bad about this place, anyways?

The people who returned were never injured, always fed and clean and cared for. They always came back in a fresh set of robes draped over their skin, no signs of markings or damage painted across their bodies.

The options weighed heavy on your tongue. Either you’d reach the cult’s temple, or you’d die trying.

Either way, you’d be acting on your own. You’d be independent, free. With an exhale, you blew the remaining obedience into dust, joining the stars sparkling overhead.

The moon seemed pleased with your choice, at least, guiding your path clearly through the woods. Whenever the ground below your feet disappeared, you knew you had misstepped, returning easily to the worn-in gravel placed along the way. Eventually, the trees became sparse, no longer guarding you from whatever lays ahead.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust before focusing on the building before you, a gentle glow illuminating the temple through its exterior screens. It was certainly different than you imagined, expecting high stone barriers walling off a great fortress, leaving you to wonder: could masses of soldiers truly not pierce the paper screens protecting this deadly palace?

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel welcomed; it was unimposing, the warm lights flickering inside a definite sign of life. How many people call this their home? How many people serve here?

The wooden steps leading to the entrance creak slightly below your weight, palm hesitantly resting on the sliding door. Doubt flashes across your mind, the pull of your family threatening to tug you back home - should you turn around, forget this silly stunt and return to the life you had known?

Before you can move, the screen slides open in your grasp.

“Do come in,” a soft voice calls from inside as light floods your vision.

Your weight makes you stumble forward as your feet move on their own, carrying you into the room. It’s nice inside, the smell of sage lingering in the air as you make your way to the center. Before you is a man, his green and gold robes hanging loosely from his shoulders, the bare skin covered only by inky locks cascading down his back. His position looks almost leisurely as he kneels, his eyes scanning your figure.

“Sit.”

And you do - your knees buckle as you lower yourself to the ground.

A devilish grin spreads across his lips as he follows your motions. For a moment, his gaze locks on yours, deep purple eyes staring back.

“Quite an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” he purrs.

Air rushes into your lungs through a gasp, but you can’t stop the muscles in your neck from nodding.

What the fuck is happening? Why can’t you control your body?

As fear begins to course through your nerves, the stranger in front of you lets out a breathy giggle. “Good, that’s very good,” he muses.

When he rises to stand, your heart drops as you realize just how deeply you may have fucked up. He’s tall, easily towering over you. The bottom of his robes graze the floor as he circles you quietly - no, silently.

The sound of his humming vibrates in the air - you want to look at him, monitor him for any malicious intent, but you can’t bring yourself to turn your head.

When he’s completed his course around you, he returns to his seat on the floor. Perching himself on the balls of his feet, he leans forward. Cold fingers wrap around your face, pushing your cheeks together as he easily maneuvers you in his grasp. His eyes burn your skin as you realize:

He’s inspecting you.

With a pleased huff he releases your head, settling back across from you. That same smirk rests across his lips as he speaks. “Tell me, why did you come here, little lamb?”

The sound of your voice hits the air before you realize it’s yours. “I ran away.”

“Oh?” With a tilt of his head, his eyes crease. “Well then, I suppose you’ve found your new home. Welcome.”

Silently, he rises once more. This time, he extends a pale hand out to you. “I can show you to your room, if you’d like.”

At his words, the tendons within your body relax, more at ease. Finally under your own control, you raise a hesitant arm. Is this what you want?

Your palm rests lightly upon his.

He smiles.

“Good choice,” he whispers as you rise to your feet.

The temple’s grounds are beautiful, even in the dark. Flickering candlelight lines the stone paths as you walk through tended gardens, over wooden bridges and small streams. He guides you to a house near the back, tucked safely into the mountainside.

The paper slide shudders as it opens, revealing the outline of a bed covered in crisp white sheets.

“You can sleep here tonight. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call for me,” he informs you, each syllable floating through the night air.

With one swift motion he turns, returning down the path you came from.

“Wait!” you call - as the command settles, you sheepishly cross your hands. Dark hair falls over his shoulder as he turns to face you. “How…how will I find you?”

His eyes close as he laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll find you.” And with that, he disappears into the darkness.

–

The sun rises hesitantly here. It peeks its head through the translucent screens, barely illuminating your room enough to rouse you. When you finally wake, your thoughts swirl in confusion for a moment - where are you? what happened? - before you remember the previous night, the path beneath the watchful moon, the man who led you here.

Despite the unfamiliar environment, the warnings carved into your skin about the dangers of this place, you can’t bring yourself to feel afraid - after all, if he wanted to hurt you, he surely would have by now, right?

There’s an ache in your muscles as you stretch your arms overhead, bare feet resting upon the wooden floor, cool from the morning air. Idle hands begin searching the room as you open the hand-carved drawers, the scent of pine still lingering on them.

In the first, you find fresh sets of sheets. Below that, cleanly folded towels.

Moving to the next chest, your eyes widen as you scan its contents. Inside lie beautiful silks in every shade - your palms run over blues that mirror the sea, pinks the color of sunrise, greens brought from the forest floor. Each one feels more extravagant than the last, and as your awe clears, you suddenly feel ashamed to be holding them. They slip through your fingers as you shy away in embarrassment, your dirtied skin unworthy of touching them. They aren’t yours, after all - you’re nothing more than a guest here.

Turning to the closet nearby, you swing open the heavy doors, only to be met with even more luxury, this time robes hanging in neat rows.

You shouldn’t take them, but then again, the man did say anything you needed was yours…and you could use a new set of clothes after your travels last night…

Hesitantly, you pull one of the kimonos from the rack - in your hands, it catches the morning sun, small threads of gold reflecting across the room interwoven with the purple cloth. Sliding into it, you can’t help but notice the way it fits you perfectly, the length extending to just above your ankles, the sleeves resting gently along your wrists.

It feels foreign on your skin, surely you look like a fool, nothing more than a child trying on their parent’s work clothes. Glancing around the room, you search for a mirror to confirm your suspicions, but none seem to catch your eye. Oh well, you sigh, you’ll just have to face everyone looking like a stranger.

Stepping outside, a cool breeze brushes past your cheeks, your arms wrapping the robes tighter around your body as you fight off a shiver. It must be colder at this altitude, no longer afforded the protection of the very mountain you now reside on.

Small pebbles crunch beneath your feet as you make your way along the temple grounds. You try to retrace the path you took from the main house last night, but it quickly proves useless, your memory already foggy. Maybe it just looks different during the day?

Nevertheless, you don’t mind being lost here - the area is truly beautiful. Flowers fill the green spaces, ones you’d never seen before, shades of purple and red dotting the meadows. In the distance, tall trees poke against the horizon, leaves dancing in the wind.

As you wander, you pass identical buildings to the one you stayed in last night. Had you walked past all of these on your way there? Surely you would have remembered them, right?

This time, of course, the lights inside are off. There’s no use for them under the sun that’s now settling into the sky above. There are fewer clouds up here, you realize, perhaps another effect of the altitude.

By the time you find your way back to your new home (only able to identify it by the screen door left ajar), darkness has begun growing along the grounds, insects chirping their nighttime songs from nearby trees.

Sliding your shoes off, the smell of something tantalizing hits your senses.

You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until you’re suddenly faced with the most delicious looking meal sitting upon the table. Steam rises from the bowl of salty broth, and for a moment you overlook the fact that someone must have been here to deliver it as you hurriedly shuffle to sit down, scooping noodles into your mouth with the chopsticks resting nearby. Finally, the ache in your stomach eases as you slurp the remaining liquid, allowing it to practically dribble down your chin.

A long shadow is suddenly cast along your room from behind you.

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying dinner.”

Your spine shoots straight up as you turn, wiping your face with the back of a suddenly clammy palm.

“Y-yes,” you stutter, attempting to hide the utter lack of manners in how you had ravenously consumed the meal.

The man from last night stands in your doorway, leaning against the frame as he crosses his arms. That same smirk spreads across his features.

“Thank you!” you suddenly blurt, aware of your impoliteness. “It was…very good. Thank you.”

Another light chuckle dances across the air. “Please, no need for formalities. I’m simply glad you are enjoying the food. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had to make something for someone other than myself.”

Questions lie along the tip of your tongue, but before they can escape, he turns with a wave. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Wait!” You internally curse yourself again for the interruption, but one question in particular was burning its way through your throat. “I realized I never learned your name…”

“Oh,” he smiles through thin lips. “My name is Suguru, but most call me Master Geto. You can choose whatever name you like.”

Warmth floods your face at the title, and further at his informality. “O-okay.”

With another small flick of his wrist, he continues the path away from your room. “Anyways, goodnight,” he calls into the darkness ahead.

“Goodnight, Master Geto,” you murmur to yourself.

–

Your second day is all too similar.

You wake.

You dress.

You wander.

You eat.

This time, Master Geto does not stop by your room at all. You’re beginning to wonder what he does all day - hell, you’re beginning to wonder what anyone here does all day, not having seen a single other person.

All that free time leaves you to fester on your thoughts.

When you were a child, you heard the rumors of this place. At first, it was a sort of commune, a community where disillusioned and lost souls could go to find purpose. But when they stopped coming back, the stories twisted into more sinister adaptations. It was a religious group, who worshiped their leader as a false god. Then, it was a sex cult, who offered their bodies to him as a form of salvation. After that, it was a political power who strove to overtake all of society and enact his rules as law.

Time after time, story after story, it was always him at the forefront: some mysterious man who cornered and compelled his followers to obey.

And yet, you find yourself doubting it. How could he lead if he was never present? More than that, who could he lead if there were no loyal servants here to be led?

It didn’t add up.

The townsfolk were known for fear mongering - perhaps it was nothing more than a way to avoid losing any more citizens, to prevent them, too, from joining the strange man in the mountains.

But then again, you can’t quite shake the power you felt radiating from him when you were in that room, the way he so easily manipulated your body (and your thoughts) with nothing more than his words.

The thoughts string together in your mind as you pace the temple grounds during your walks, the only routine grounding you to the passage of time.

Today the sun struggles to shine through the clouds, a general greyness cast upon everything. It’s been almost two weeks, and you’ve barely seen him at all. Occasionally he’ll stop by your room, but only hover in the doorway, never entering. His voice always seems so calm when he speaks to you, offering simple observations about your meals, as though he was slowly investigating your preferences (not that he needed to - you were grateful simply to be fed - but he persisted nonetheless).

Tonight, you return to find the entrance to your room closed, the candlelight from inside casting a welcoming glow. As you slide the shoji open, a familiar scent fills the space. Your mouth waters as your feet carry you forward on instinct.

With the first bite from the bowl, you nearly moan in pleasure at the taste.

“Is it good?”

This time, you don’t jump at his silent approach. Glancing over your shoulder, you smile through a full mouth. “It’s incredible.”

“Good,” he laughs softly, “I’m glad. I was worried it wouldn’t be as good as you remembered.”

“Master Geto,” you swallow, “this is delicious.” Through another bite, your voice lowers, “It’s just like the oyakodon my parents used to make.”

“I know.”

The statement catches you momentarily off-guard, questions catching in your throat making you nearly choke.

He senses the change immediately as your shoulders close off, confusion building behind your eyes. “I apologize if I overstepped,” he begins, uncrossing his arms and allowing them to hang loosely by his sides in the slightly oversized robes, “I remembered that dish being popular in town, so I thought it might bring some comfort.”

“Oh,” you hum, tentatively chewing another bite. It’s a reasonable explanation, you suppose, even if it leaves more uncertainty swirling in your lungs.

After a moment of silence, his presence in your doorway begins to feel…awkward.

Normally by this point he’d have left with a wave, fading into the darkness outside. But not tonight. Tonight, he stays, swaying slightly within the entrance.

As your gaze covers him, the traditional robes remind you - perhaps you were being even more rude than you expected. You still knew very little about him, but maybe he abided by more traditional laws, one that forbade a man from entering a woman’s sleeping quarters without her permission.

(You always thought those rules were a bit silly, but now was not the time for debate - now was the time to learn more about the man lingering outside.)

“Would you like to come in?” You place the question into the air as you swallow the final piece of your dinner.

His grin threatens to tear across his cheeks as he nods politely. “Of course.”

As he approaches the table inside, his presence suddenly feels overwhelming. Even though he’s not physically much larger than you, something about him suffocates the space, his soul spreading out until there’s no room left. It’s stifling.

But when he sits across from you, it gets sucked back into himself. You can breathe again.

“How is the temple?” he asks easily.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse, “but…where is everyone?”

“Everyone?” He cocks his head to the side. “Oh! You mean the others. They aren’t particularly active during the day - you know how hot it gets here.”

In an instant, it feels right - the memories of the brisk mornings become hazy in your mind, replaced with the sun beaming overhead. Maybe you even returned to your room with sweat glistening along your skin after a particularly long walk.

Suguru notices the way your vision clouds over as the experiences rewrite themselves. If you were more present, perhaps you’d be able to decode the emotion flashing across his face as his nose scrunches and eyebrows furrow.

He stands suddenly, pulling you from your internal trance.

“Well, I suppose I should be going now,” he hums, gliding seamlessly to the doorway once again. “Goodnight.”

Before you can breathe a question, he’s gone, the rattling screen door the only proof of his existence.

–

You think you’re going insane here.

When you fled, you wanted to find something exciting, a new experience, an act of defiance. You wanted something to fill the emptiness in your soul and make you into something else, someone stronger, someone braver, someone more than the obedient little girl you left behind.

But now, with every repeated step through the temple grounds, you feel yourself collapsing inwards. The support beams inside you aren’t strong enough, cracking under the weight of loneliness.

Why wasn’t anyone here?

Why wasn’t anyone helping you?

Even Master Geto’s presence became desired, in spite of the slight unease that brewed within your stomach when he was around. It was like an addiction, as though he knew just how to feed you enough of him to keep you coming back, to keep you starving.

Ironic, isn’t it? That here, in a place with all your needs met, with delicious meals and extravagant clothes and plush beds, you find yourself destitute. Hunger pangs shoot up your chest as you eat alone, the robes begin stifling each breath, too hot even as the days grow colder. Every night you become increasingly acquainted with the wooden beams drawn above your bed.

You’re empty.

On your thirty-first night, after hours laying alone in the dark, you wonder if perhaps the moon would have any advice for you. She’s always watched over you, maybe she could guide you.

Outside, the gravel shifts beneath your feet. The candles are lit once again, lining the paths throughout the grounds. You’ve never seen anyone light them, and yet every night, their flames continue to burn (not that you need them, of course - you’ve grown accustomed to this place, steps tracing it like palm lines).

So you trust your legs when they carry you forward. Until you’re once again at the entrance of the main temple, the same warmth flickering from inside.

The door slides open easily, the hesitation that used to live in your muscles now replaced with tired indignation. You no longer have to wait for Master Geto’s command to enter (even though you want it, you want it so badly, to be told what to do and where to go and how to act and what to think until you’re nothing but his little puppet because then at least you could be something).

A part of you expected him to be in his chambers given the late hour. But a more possessive part hopes he’d be here, waiting for you.

Your lungs breathe a sigh of relief as you feel his gaze. He smiles as you stand in the doorway.

“What’s my little lamb doing up so late?” he coos, beckoning you inside.

Rubbing your eyes, you take your seat on the floor next to him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

It’s been some time since you’ve been here, you realize - perhaps since the first night you arrived - but it feels comfortable, the scent of smoke lingering in the air. And Master Geto is here, too - that surely helps.

“I see. Tell me, would you like me to make you some tea?”

Your head nods on its own, perhaps an effect of your recent insomnia.

Silently, he rises, moving easily through the room to collect his arsenal. Armed with a maroon teapot and a single cup, he returns to where you rest in the center of the room. Dark liquid pours into the mug before he places it in front of you.

The first sip burns your tongue slightly, but you avoid wincing - you wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful. You wouldn’t want to push him away.

Deep eyes watch your every move, drinking you in. That quiet discomfort is back, but you shove it down with a forceful swallow. After all, if you seem distrustful, it may make him unhappy, or worse, leave you. After so long without him, you’re content to sit under his blanket of silence.

“How are you enjoying your time here?”

Your throat catches for a moment. Should you tell him it’s killing you, eating you alive and breaking you down? Should you tell him how much you’ve missed him? No - surely he’d think you strange, you barely know each other despite the time you’ve spent here.

“It’s been…comfortable.”

He tilts his head through a thoughtful hum. He allows the quiet to choke you for a moment before he continues. “And yet, you’re here at this hour. Tell me, why?”

Your lips are moving on your own, fighting against your better interest. “I’ve missed you, Master Geto.”

“Oh?” He seems pleased with your response, letting out that tantalizing little chuckle. “What is it about me you’ve missed?”

This time, you’re able to stifle your voice before it betrays you. Through another sip, you let the words simmer on your tongue before he speaks again-

“Tell me.”

“I missed being told what to do,” you blurt, nearly spilling the tea that had been resting behind your lips.

Thin lips tug into a smirk as he eyes you, and you can’t help but feel you’ve answered correctly, even if it was against your will.

That fear bubbles inside your chest once again, but this time it’s tainted with something else, something hot. Something you would be tempted to call desire.

Adjusting his weight, muscled legs sprawl before him. “Come here, little lamb,” he purrs.

So easily he pulls your strings. In an instant you’re crawling towards him, until you’ve settled upon his lap, head resting on his shoulder. Perhaps a month ago you would have been scared at how easily he maneuvers you to his will, but after countless days left with only your own thoughts to drive you, it’s a welcome reprieve. A body is a heavy thing to carry alone; there’s no harm in letting someone else borrow it for a moment.

Slender fingers card through your hair, melting you beneath his touch. Until all that’s left is a fluid form in the outline of your flesh; it makes it all the more easy to shape that way.

“You must be tired, poor thing,” Suguru hums into the crown of your head.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Go on then, sleep.”

And your vision melts into his darkness.

–

When you wake, everything feels stiff. The room, your body, the blankets cocooned around you. Stale air sits in your lungs as you rise from the bed.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, landing on wood floors and drawn shades. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust except you, the only living thing here.

Nothing moves except for your breathing, no sounds besides the mattress creaking as you stand. Your thighs are tense, aching with each step forward. At least your robe is comfortable, even if it’s not the one you remember falling asleep in.

That memory itself feels fuzzy - how long had you been here?

But the slippers on your feet are warm, and you don’t feel that gnawing ache inside your stomach anymore. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

Sliding the bedroom door open, you wander into the hallway. At the end, flickering candlelight casts a glow across the familiar carpet, the same as in the main building. Oranges and greens blur in your vision as you make your way to it, and your heart picks up its pace as you walk, drawing you in.

It lurches when you see him.

Master Geto.

“You’re finally awake, my little lamb.” His voice is smooth like silk, softer than the sheets that had cradled you as you slept. “Come in.”

The room is beautiful, dark reds and browns lining every surface, especially the bed he lays upon. The material is cool on your skin, flushed from sleep.

“You slept for quite a while,” he hums, beginning to slowly run his fingers over your hair. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Why thank me?”

“I think…I think it was because of you.” The sentence trails up at the end, leaving it a question. One he does not decide to answer.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please. Thank you, Master Geto.”

His lips spread into a smile as he rises, silently moving to the teapot resting in the corner. With his back momentarily to you, it’s easier to remember all the questions you ought to ask - how long was I asleep for? where is everyone? why am I here?

But they’re too overwhelming, too big. You aren’t sure he’d answer them, anyways - you aren’t sure you’d want an answer. It’s easier to not ask.

“I’m not sure I should stay here anymore.”

His shoulders stiffen, just enough that the tea nearly spills over the edge of the cup. He sets it down on the table beside you.

“And why is that?”

“I just…” you trail off, holding the mug in your hands. It’s warm, making your palms itch. “I’m not sure there’s anything for me to do here.”

“You keep me company. Is that not enough?”

“It is, but I just…I guess I don’t feel like I’m doing a good job.” It’s easier to speak when you only have to face the steaming liquid held in your lap. “I feel lost without you. I don’t know what to do with my time. I mostly just wander around and hope I see you, or hope you give me something to do. I like that, but I’m not even doing anything. You’re never around during the day anyways, so then I end up festering with my thoughts and just feel worse. I’m losing my mind here.”

A slender finger traces up your neck, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at him. His eyes hold a dark ice behind them, the kind that would slice open ships and kill sailors in the middle of the night, the kind the sea only makes when it’s craving blood.

“You have a purpose here, little lamb, you just can’t see it.”

You can’t hold his gaze, so you allow it to fall to the pink and red of his lips. “Then tell me what it is! I want to do something, please Master Geto.” Nails leave crescent-shaped marks in your skin as you grip the teacup.

“I can’t tell you, not yet.”

“Either tell me, or I’m leaving.”

You aren’t sure where the words came from, but they shock you as they land. Perhaps some deep part of your soul, some part the moon uncovered on your walk to the temple, growing brighter under her protection.

Fire, then ice flares behind him. He forces his shoulders back, cooling his tone. “Why don’t you drink some tea and calm down a bit, then we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want your tea! I want to know what’s going on!”

“I said, drink.”

The muscles in your arms tighten to bring the cup to your mouth. Liquid is forced past your lips through a choke. It burns your throat.

Once it’s empty, you drop it, the mug clanging against the floor. Tears prick the corners of your eyes in pain, and Master Geto seems tense. Lowering himself to the ground, he gingerly picks up the cup, allowing his palm to graze yours as he rises. Silently, he glides to the corner of the room where steam rises from the still-full teapot.

With everything in you, you force your mouth to move. “How do you do that?” Your voice is hoarse.

“Do what?”

“That,” you stumble, trying to explain. “Make me…do things.”

Six seconds pass before he answers.

“Do you know what obedience means?”

You nod.

“Tell me, what does it mean to you?”

“It means to do as another person says, always.”

Glancing at you from over his shoulder, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Exactly.” He pours more liquid into your cup, a silent apology in his own misshapen way. “Some must be trained into obedience through leashes and chains, but others are born for it, their souls a softer shape, one that’s easier to mold.”

The mug is warm in your hands as your fingers wrap around the ceramic, accepting it from his grasp.

“Someone like you, for example, was made to obey. You feel it, don’t you? That emptiness when you aren’t being commanded?”

As you nod, something inside you aches, a hole where your autonomy should be. And here is Master Geto, so kindly offering to fill it.

“That makes it all the more effortless to follow someone, you see. I can sense it, the way your body practically begs me to control it.” He explains it easily with a wave of his hand, as though a few sentences could make you understand.

And yet, you do. It feels right to be led by him, molded by him, controlled by him. It’s the comfort you’ve felt, the warmth that clouds your thoughts whenever you’re near him.

“Is that…is that what I’m doing here?” A large hand reaches over to rub slow circles into your back through the robe - his robe, you now realize. “I’m here to follow orders and do whatever you say?”

“No, no, not at all.” A sound close to a laugh brushes through his throat at the thought. “You’re here for something else.”

You finish the second cup of tea - it’s easier to drink now that your throat has already been burned. “Please, tell me why. I promise not to leave, please, Master Geto.”

Dark eyes fall to the empty cup in your hands, then back to you. So powerless in his grasp, the smell of him lingering on your clothes, on your skin, on your breath. An impossible scent to lose, even if you were to run.

“Do you know what a vampire is?”

Confusion swirls in your mind at the question. “Yes? I’ve heard of them, of course. Creatures who live forever and drink blood to survive, right?”

“Exactly,” he smiles, voice smooth like the silk wrapping around your body. “There are other components too, of course. Other powers. The commands, for example. And you’ve heard of those coming back from my temple, yes? How they return with no recollection of their time here?”

“Yes.”

“They were ones who ran - who I allowed to run, of course. They didn’t please me, or they were too weak to keep my company. But as you can imagine, I couldn’t allow them to tell others of what they had seen here, regardless of how stupid some of them may have been. So, they may survive, but the memories must go. And that’s just a fraction of what I’m capable of.” His words rise and fall in pitch, the most visible sign of excitement you’ve ever seen in him, before it flattens again. “Many think vampires are dangerous, but they aren’t, not if they’re able to control themselves. It’s a matter of obedience, you see.”

“Obedience,” you whisper into the empty space.

“If one can stay in control of their desires, it’s barely any different than how a human lives.”

Your hands fiddle with the hem of the robe, teeth chewing on your lip. “Why are you telling me this, Master Geto?”

The finger on your chin trails up until his hand rests upon your cheek. When your eyes finally meet his, he smiles, a gesture you don’t return. Your heart beats loud, pulling you into him.

“You know why.”

And you feel it, in the depths of your stomach. The true weight of his horror, his power, settles like obsidian in your chest. A cough stifles from your mouth from the coal-black dust inside you.

His thumb runs over your lips, pressing down on the plump flesh. You should run, you should scream and beg for help and go back to your parents and pretend this never happened. You aren’t safe here, you shouldn’t stay a moment longer.

All your body can do is quicken your pulse, thrumming up your neck.

Your lips part. His thumb slides past them.

When he smiles, he seems pleased, and you feel warm like the tea spreading through your muscles with each breath. Flickering candlelight casts a shadow across his eyes, and they seem to glow with hunger.

“Are you scared?”

His skin tastes sweet as it settles on your tongue. You slowly shake your head, humming a soft, “No.”

A twitch of a smirk plays across his lips. He didn’t even have to compel you. They spread wider, allowing sharp, whitened fangs to poke through. Your eyes widen and pupils dilate as they dig into his lower lip, red blooming beneath the skin.

“You should be.” He’s leaning forward, until he’s so close you block the light from cascading across his face. In the shadows of your body, he looks monstrous, all flashes of black and white. “And yet, you stay. Tell me, why? What could you possibly hope to achieve?”

Air rushes through your lungs, and the words tumble out in a single breath. “I want to obey you, Master Geto.”

Tilting his head to the side, dark bangs obscure his eyes.

“Ah, I understand now. You really were made for this, weren’t you?”

Sliding his thumb from your mouth, he closes the distance between you. A long finger tilts your chin upwards, locking your gaze on him.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You nod. You can’t help it - you want to do anything he tells you; you will do anything he tells you.

“Good.” Pink lips brush against yours. His breath is cool as he whispers, “Then lay down.”

The sheets are chilled against your burning skin as your back rests upon them. It’s easier, now, the way you’ve accepted your muscles enacting his will. It feels right to let him pull your strings, letting him shape you into whatever pose he sees fit.

He doesn’t even need to command you to open your legs, large palms spreading your knees apart easily, allowing them to fall with the weight of his gravity. Your clothes are gone in an instant, laid bare before him, returned to your natural form before the god that granted it. It’s only natural.

Hot breath hits your core, cold eyes resting on your face. His thumb trails a path along your skin until it lands upon your clit, each slow circle another rotation around his orbit.

It’s almost too much, your body writhing under his touch, desperation making your hips rut uselessly into him. But he’s just…watching you.

“P-please,” you can’t help but whine, trying to grind into him for any additional ounce of friction. Master Geto simply continues his agonizingly slow pace.

Your gaze meets his for a moment, fire crackling beneath it as his lips tug into a sinister grin, a predator about to consume its prey.

Eat me, your body begs, I’m yours.

Oh, he knows.

His palm opens, sliding two fingers easily into your cunt. Just as he curls upwards, sharp teeth move from poking through his lip into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. For the violence crackling beneath his skin, he’s surprisingly gentle as his canines sink into you.

Because he doesn’t want it to hurt.

Not yet.

The prickling pain tingles your senses as he pulls your first orgasm from you, a faint moan humming in your throat.

When he rises from between your legs, red dribbles from his lips. He crackles with pride, completely unabashed; if anything, he’s proud.

Warmth blankets your body as he crawls on top of you, a wolf stalking a lamb. And you can’t bring yourself to run.

Muscled shoulders bare themselves under the flickering lights as he slowly sheds his robes, pale and morphing, too blurry to focus on. If you were more naive, you’d be tempted to call him an angel.

“You taste so sweet,” he purrs, his face now mere centimeters from yours.

When he kisses you, a mix of metal and cum tangles on your tongues, intoxicatingly you. Every ounce of his weight rests against you until you can’t pull in a breath anymore, your ribs unable to expand below him.

But like always, he grants you mercy.

He pulls back, just enough to let air rush in through your parted lips. Your skin burns where he places a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth.

Because now, you want it to hurt.

And oh, he knows.

That devilish smile curls upon his lips, no longer hiding the fangs behind it. Every beat of your heart makes you dizzy, your vision pulsing with each reverberating thrum. You wonder if he can feel it in your chest.

(He can.)

(He wants to claw it from your body and eat it.)

The remnants of blood lingering on his teeth are wiped away as his tongue swipes over them, an innocent white left in its wake. How perfect a sinner’s body can be.

He’s shifting his weight above you, but you barely notice, too enamored by him, too lost in his eyes, in his depravity. The moment your eyes flutter shut to protect your soul, he’s reaching out to you.

“Look at me, little lamb.”

And then, your gaze is locked on him.

And then, his cock is pressing into you.

Lips part, fire shoots up your spine, a cry dies in your throat. It’s burning and tearing and it’s death and everything is too hot and you’re staring into those eyes with flames behind them and you think you’d let him kill you if he asked.

Not that he needs to ask, of course.

Your back arches off the bed as your eyes nearly roll back into your head but they can’t - because it’s not what Master Geto commanded. Because you always do as he says.

Because you always obey.

Instead, tears prick at the corners and your entire body trembles and he’s staring down at you with pity.

“There, shh, that’s my girl,” he coos. He wipes away a tear with his thumb but he doesn’t stop, not until his pelvis is flush with yours and all you can feel is him inside you.

Ragged breaths rack your core, your walls clenching around him from his size alone.

“You’re being so obedient, so good,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. And the sun bursts through your chest.

A slack-jawed smile spreads across your features at his praise, cheeks warm and full of pride. You’ve done everything you were made for - you’ve made Master Geto happy. You’ve been good.

When he drags his hips from you, his tip catching and pulling and gouging any remaining shred of disloyalty from your consciousness, you know you’re his: your mind, your soul, your body. All his, in any way he wants it.

When he thrusts back into you, the emptiness inside you is filled with him.

Him.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Master Geto.

All you have ever needed.

All you will ever need.

Master Geto.

Warmth blossoms in your chest as he fucks you into the silk sheets. You are his. You were always made to be his. There’s no pain in it, no uncertainty. It’s as things were always meant to be.

But there’s still something missing, something lingering in the droplet of red beading at the corner of his lips.

Eat me, your body pleads, I’m yours.

“Master Geto,” you whimper, “I…I want…”

As he gazes down at you, there’s a reverence behind it - not to you, no, but to your servitude.

“Yes, my little lamb,” he breathes through the sound of skin against skin. “Tell me what you want.”

“Bite me, Master Geto,” you cry, “please.”

And you feel him laugh, his breath hot against the skin of your neck. “Well, how could I deny my most devoted?”

First, it’s the searing pain of his fangs sinking into your skin. An instant later, it’s the burning pleasure of it.

A moan bubbles from your throat, allowing your head to fall back into his waiting palm, cradling you above the respite of feathered pillows. Because for now, he will hold you; you should be held by him.

Suguru is greedy as he drinks.

Grunts and groans echo from his chest, his body never stilling as he plunges in and out of you in pace with his tongue lapping at your pierced flesh. Just as his teeth pull away he strikes them into you again, and again, and again. Puncture wounds grow across your skin, blooming hues of maroon beneath them, stars decorating the sky, each one a burning supernova moments away from exploding.

They mark you for what you are: his.

“You taste,” he pants, “fucking devine.”

Nails claw at his back, your head lolled back into the sheets, limp beneath him. Of course, you’d move if he told you to - you’d die if he told you to.

Each racing heartbeat makes your vision pulse, head swimming as he drinks from you. Your body melts inside him, warm in his stomach.

The friction of his hips between your legs only grows, until it’s burning like the teeth in your neck. Red flames prick your skin, Suguru’s tongue chasing each one to put it out.

His grunts grow animalistic, a beast pulling muscles and tendons until it’s out of breath. Shoulders tense beneath your palms, and your stomach begins to tighten.

“Master Geto, I-”

“I know,” he growls into your neck. Arms tighten around your body, until they cage in your ribs, until you can’t breathe anything but him. “Cum for me, little lamb.”

Warmth floods your senses, numb save for his cock twitching. He bites down harder as his claim shoots into you, thick and hot.

For a moment, you wonder if he tore flesh from bone. When he removes his head from your collarbone, blood dripping down his chin in thick rivulets, it seems all the more possible.

Licking his lips, he groans at the sanguine flavor pouring down his throat, sweet like honey. When he kisses you, his tongue presses against yours until it lingers in the back of your mouth. Sweet like him.

Low eyes meet yours, a thumb stroking your cheek.

“Stay here, with me.”

And maybe, you will.

It’s easier like this, to be his.

It’s easier to obey.

[somejazzinthemorning]

playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But�� “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

[muwapsturniolo]

𝕭𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖚𝖘 🗡 Matt Sturniolo

"You're mine now doll, get to runnin' "

✘ dom matt, mask/face paint kink, knife play, blood, murder, serial killers, pussy slapping, rough sex, exhibitionism. degradation, dacryphilia, fear play, predator x play kink. IF I MISSED ANYTHING, PLZ LET ME KNOW.

ALSO! Although this is not doll!reader and I’m using it as a nickname, I’m still giving credit to my fav rose toy with big tits @bernardsbendystraws

Halloween Horror Nights.

The night where you allow yourself to be chased by fake chainsaws, scared out of your skin, explore haunted houses, and enjoy food.

Y/n however, went for a whole different reason.

It was no secret to the people who knew her that she was a horror fanatic. She watched all the scary movies, often fawning over the masked murders—Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, to be exact. She'd immerse herself, sitting in the dark with a bowl of popcorn on her lap. She'd even take it a step further and leave her front door unlocked, hoping one of her masked lovers would stroll right in.

So here she was, dressed as Alice from 'Alice in Wonderland', wandering around the big amusement park with a certain spark in her eye.

She was having the time of her life - the haunt actors getting in her face and screaming only to be met with a wide smile. They had run up to her multiple times, waving their fake knives, bats, and chainsaws in her face, hoping to scare her. However, she never screamed, she laughed and clenched her thighs, her wetness pooling in the center of her bright blue panties.

She had just finished walking through one of the haunted houses, smiling to herself as she heard the screams of the other house attendees. As she walks out through the exit, the smell of kettle corn and funnel cake hits her immediately.

Her stomach grumbles softly, and she decides it's time for her to eat. As she begins to walk towards the food area, she stops hearing the loudest screams of the night. Just as she turns around, she sees a group of teen girls running from a Haunt actor.

He was tall and lanky, dressed in black suspenders and a white button-up adorned by a tie. His face was covered in white face paint, black triangles painted over his eyes, the black paint also covering his lips - He looked like some rendition of the crow. His hair was slicked back as well, a singular curl falling in his face.

He was beautiful, nothing about him was scary - She was attracted.

Suddenly, his head turns, his eyes landing on her.

She maintains eye contact, not backing down from the impromptu staring contest. She watches as a smirk makes its way across his face, his tongue gliding over his teeth swiftly. She found herself imagining him biting her, his tongue gliding over the indentation on her skin soon after.

She's knocked out of her daydream and staring contest by a few kids bumping into her, running away from what looks like their parents. She huffs and goes to look back at the painted face, only to see he's gone. She was disappointed, hoping maybe, just maybe, he would approach her. She continued on with her task, getting in line to get food before she went on with her night. However, she couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching her.

Throughout the night, she would catch brief glimpses of him, their eyes connecting before he disappeared once more. It seemed like every corner she turned, he was there watching her, stalking her, getting closer and closer each and every single time - She loved it. She dreamed of having her own personal killer dote upon her, and even though he wasn't a real killer, she would settle for it.

Eventually, she had gotten bored of the horror night, having been in the majority of the haunted houses and seeing all of the Haunt actors. She was ready to leave, but before she left, she decided to take a picture.

She holds the phone up, fixing her hair and getting ready to smile when suddenly, the haunt actor who has been watching her this whole night, appears behind her.

He's quick to yank her closer, using her hair as an anchor to pull her back into his chest - his fake knife pressing against her throat.

She freezes, completely caught off guard by his sudden appearance, her thumb hovering over the button to capture the pictures. She feels the ridges of the blade pressing against her throat, the coldness of the metal - She doesn't question it, the only thing her mind can focus on is his warm breath fanning over her ear.

She can't help the excitement building in her core, her wetness forming at an accelerated pace. She clenches her thighs, the nameless haunt actor chuckling darkly by her indiscreet actions.

"Are you scared?" He whispers in her ear, sniffing her neck in the process. She already looked appetizing, but she smelled mouthwatering. The subtle scent of cherries wafting through his nose and making his eyes flutter shut in ecstasy.

"No-"

She wasn't lying, she wasn't scared, she had that anxious excitement building in her stomach. She knew something was going to happen tonight, and she was ready for it.

"Then go on doll, take the picture," he whispers in her ear, a slight chill running up her spine due to his raspy voice. She does as told and takes a picture, a few pictures actually.

"You've been watching me tonight." She says softly as she puts her phone down, the knife still pressed against her throat. He hums in acknowledgment, still holding onto her hair tightly. "And you did nothing to stop it." He removes the knife and turns her around, wrapping a strong hand around her throat, tilting his head to the side as he notices the chaotic gleam in her eye.

He smirks when he recognizes it, "but you liked it, didn't you? You liked the idea of a killer stalking you, hunting you down like prey?" He stares deep into her soul, his eyes never leaving hers. He trails the knife along the front of her costume, stopping right at her heart, never breaking eye contact.

"I love it actually."

His grip on her jaw tightens, his eyes darkening in a sadistic way. He allows his thumb to press against her bottom lip, slowly prodding into her mouth. Her plump and glossed lips wrapped around it, her tongue swirling against it as she kept her eyes locked on his.

He pulls his thumb out of her mouth, his whole body rushing with adrenaline.

His night is taking a turn, the original plan between him and Chris now being tweaked, all because of her. He wasn't mad about it at all, Chris might be, but he would deal with that later.

After all, Chris couldn't stay mad at a girl dressed all pretty for him.

"What's your name?"

"Y/n...What's yours?"

He ignores her question and turns her around, using his knife to point at a specific haunted house she hasn't been in yet.

"Go-" she furrows her brows, not understanding why he would tell her to go into the attraction. Before she could question him, he was gone, leaving nothing but directions and a raging ache between her legs.

She huffs in annoyance, mainly due to his disappearing act but also due to the wetness in between her thighs.

Fixing the hem of her dress, she heads over to the haunted attraction standing in the long line with other people.

Shockingly, it wasn't long before she was next to enter the attraction, showing her ID to security. It was then that she realized this was the scariest haunted house - You have to be 21 to enter due to the extremities.

It was interactive, the actors being able to touch you and terrorize you for however long until you find the exit.

She's soon let in, her legs moving slowly as she takes in the inside of the horror house. It was dark at first, no light in the small entranceway. All she could hear were the screams from the group in front of her and the mechanics of the attraction.

Eventually, she makes it to a long, dimly lit hallway. The lights were flickering and she couldn't tell if it was rigged that way or if they were truly flickering.

She turns the corner and stops - a masked person was hunched over a body, their arm coming down vigorously and violently, blood splatter landing on their white shirt. She assumed it was part of the attraction, not really thinking about it- until she recognized the body on the ground.

It was a girl from earlier, the same girl who ran up to her and complimented her costume.

Everything looked so real - the blood, the knife, even the lifeless look in the girl's eyes as she lay on the floor. Y/n didn’t realize the girl was part of the haunt crew, she wasn’t dressed up in a scary costume - but what does she know?

She hummed to herself and kept walking, not noticing the way the masked actor halted his actions and watched her, tilting their head in wonder as she proceeds without a care in the world.

She walks deeper into the house, laughing in the actors' faces as they attempt to scare her. She even laughed when a girl ran up to her, covered in blood, screaming and crying for her help.

She didn't take her seriously, why would she? It was a haunted house, these are actors.

"Please! Help me out of here, he's going to kill me!"

The emotion in her voice was so raw, it had a true tone of panic

It was so real.

"You actors get better and better every year," Y/n says as she examines the girl's costume. "Costume?! T-this isn't a costume! H-he tried to ki-" The girl stops, her eyes widening in fear as she begins to back away. Y/n rolls her eyes, "Oh, let me guess. There's someone beh-" She stops feeling something looming over her, the energy in the room turning dark as goosebumps rise along her arms.

She turns around, coming face to face with the same painted-faced individual along with the masked figure from before. She looks them up and down, both of them covered in blood. The one in the mask was drenched, the black color of his pants looking even darker with the red liquid seeping into it. He was breathing harshly, his ragged breathing echoing from behind the mask.

The masked figure grabs her, snatching her by her throat and raising his knife. Just as he goes to land his lethal blow, he's stopped by the one covered in face paint.

"She's mine, Let her go."

His voice is stern, leaving no room for debate, but the one in the mask doesn't listen. His grip tightens around her throat, the blue eyes peering down at her hardening. She knew now that this was, in fact, a life or death situation, and she couldn't help but shift slightly, her legs pressing together as she attempted to relieve the ache between her legs.

The one with the painted face smirks, walking behind the masked figure and whispering in his ear. She watches as the blue eyes behind the mask soften, his grip loosening.

He almost looked vulnerable, like he was scared of her.

"She's getting away Chris-" The moment of vulnerability is whisked away, the masked figure now known as Chris whipping his head toward the battered girl rushing off through one of the hallways.

"Go handle her, then come find me."

Chris shoves Y/n into the arms of the painted-face killer, darting down the hallway with a deranged objective. Not even a second later, she's shoved into the wall, her back hitting the plank wood harshly, her purse falling out of her hands. He presses his body against her, inhaling that cherry perfume he finds himself becoming addicted to.

"Are you going to kill me?" She asks, her heart beating wildly. He chuckles and pulls away from her neck, his eyes connecting with hers.

"Kill you? Don't tell me you're scared Dollface."

She shakes her head softly, "I'm not scared, the opposite actually." He hums and looks over her face, trying to see if she is lying. Suddenly, he pushes her off the wall, watching as she stumbles from the unsuspecting push. He uses the tip of his knife to lift her chin,

"You should be."

Her brows furrow, not understanding why she should be scared of him.

"Why should I be? "

"Because you're mine now Doll. Get to runnin'."

Her brows furrow even more, her confusion evident.

"Wha- RUN!"

She can't help but jump at the volume of his voice, her feet moving before she can even register. She takes off running, the beat of her heart ringing in her ears as she looks for a place to hide. He waits a minute or two before stalking down the hallways, whistling as he searches for her.

She finds herself hiding in one of the rooms of the haunted house, shoving herself under the bed, thankful that the prop had a long enough bed skirt. He walked down the hallway she had just run down, stopping in his tracks when he noticed an open door.

He knew this haunted house like the back of his hand - that door was never opened. He walks into the bedroom, letting his knife trail against the wall, an eerie screeching sound being heard.

"I know you're in here Doll-" He smells the air, the strain in his pants growing. "I can smell you, that sweet, sultry cherry perfume-"

She covered her mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear her breathing.

"I can smell the wetness forming between your legs, it's just as sweet as that perfume-" He looks down and notices a bit of her shoe peeking out from under the bed.

He purposely drops the knife, her heart skipping a beat when she hears it collide with the ground.

"- And you know what else I can smell?"

He bends down, reaching for the knife,

"Fear!"

He reaches under the bed and firmly grasps her calve, yanking her from under the bed. She screams loudly as she is dragged from under the bed, her body soon being thrown on top of it. He holds her hands down above her head, using his own body to hold her legs down.

"I thought you weren't scared Dollface?" He taunts, watching as she struggles to get away from him. He grabs the knife and trails it along her thigh, watching as all her movements stop.

The blade trails higher up her thigh, stopping at the hem of the dress from her costume. " You were scared and yet... You found it exciting, thrilling even." He flips her dress up, exposing her saturated panties.

He smiles at the sight, tightening his grip on the handle of the knife, "Look at that, all wet and I haven't even done anything besides scare you. But you know what they say-" He trails the tip of the knife over her clothed core before sliding it under the band.

"Fear is the best foreplay."

The blade swiftly cuts at the band of her underwear, the material falling flat against her body before he yanks it off, throwing it to the side along with the knife.

"Say it, say you like being scared." He urges, his hand getting closer and closer to her core.

"I-I like being scared...I like being hunted by you like a pray, knowing you're lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce and take me." His eyes darken at her words, his pupils dilating.

Instead of fingering her like she assumed he would do, he slaps her folds, a yelp of shock falling from her mouth only to be silenced by his lips. Their lips mesh together feverishly, the black and white paint staining her face as he continues his assault on her folds. He pulls away, watching the fat and salty tears roll down her face. He groans lowly, his cock twitching at the sight of her tears. He stops his heinous ministrations and finally looks down at her cunt - He spreads her puffy folds and watches her hole clench around nothing, begging to be filled and stretched out. His eyes dart toward her clit, watching the puffy mound pulsate under his gaze.

His mouth waters, the urge to be suffocated by her plump and plush thighs as he tastes her sweet, delectable juices strong - He'll save that for another time.

She gasps as she's flipped onto her stomach, his hands harshly gripping her waist and hiking her up, surely leaving bruises in the process. He trails his hand over the soft flesh of her ass before allowing his fingers to dip into her cunt. A whimper escapes her mouth as her eyes flutter shut, that pit in her stomach already forming and ready to burst.

The lewd squelching mixed with the screams of terror throughout the haunted house is like music to his ears - He couldn't wait any longer.

He rips his fingers away from her cunt, ignoring her pathetic cries of greediness as he quickly unbuckled his pants. He wastes no time lining himself up with her dripping cunt, slamming into her harshly.

Her back arches upward like a hissing cat, her finger clenching at the sheets as a strangled moan echoes throughout the propped bedroom. He slams her back down into the bed, her joints cracking in the process.

He fit inside her perfectly, her walls taking in his length with a warm and wet welcome.

He's relentless with his actions, his nails digging into the handles of her hips as he forces her to meet his thrusts. She feels as if she can't breathe, her mouth open and eyes rolled back as she gasps for air. Her brain is scrambled, every thought she had now jumbled and incoherent. The only thing she can think about is the immense pleasure she's feeling, all because of this nameless killer.

She fails to notice the multiple goers of the haunted house walking past the open door, watching with wide eyes as they assume the two were just actors acting- Just as she had done.

She also fails to notice the pair of eyes hidden behind a mask watching from the closet, his gaze stuck on her scrunched face.

"Fuck- Look at you, taking a killer's dick like a whore." She moans loudly in response to his degrading words, her whole body shaking with euphoria. Her slick was trailing down her inner thigh, coating his dick and glistening under the yellow lights.

He props his foot on the bed, allowing him to reach even deeper. He hits that spot hidden deep in between her gummy walls - That "Final Girl" scream tumbling from her lips.

Her body lurches forward, attempting to escape his brutal assault on her body.

He growls and grabs a handful of her hair, shoving her face into the mattress. "Stop fucking running and take it! You wanted this, you wanted to be fucked by a killer!"

He feels her walls fluttering around him, sucking him in deeper despite her attempts to get away. He can tell she's close, her muffled sobs and wails only getting louder with each and every thrust.

His own orgasm was approaching quickly, but he refused to cum without seeing her face - Much like when he goes in for the kill.

He had to see his victims' faces, the light leaving their eyes doing nothing but bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

He pulls out of her aching cunt and flips her over, giving her no time to adjust before he slips right back in, resuming his relentless pace.

Her arms lay limp by her head, her whole body weak as she takes everything he gives her.

He wraps a single hand around her throat, using his other hand to swirl figure 8's against her clit. Her whole body begins to shake, choked gasps and broken pleas filling the air.

"P-Ple-" He tightens his grip against her throat, her hands flying towards his wrist and clawing at it.

"Go on Doll- Shit- Let go."

Her body thrashes around violently, a horrific scream echoing throughout the haunted house, the guests flinching as they rush through with their friends.

He lets go himself, groaning loudly as he paints her walls, claiming her as his.

He heaves as he pulls out of her, a small 'pop' being heard. He tucks himself back in his pants, sniffling softly as he watches her tremble on the bed.

He gives her a few seconds before he grabs his gloves and knife, "I suggest you make your way out, doll. Don't want you to get caught in the crossfire." She continues to lay on the bed, struggling to even sit up or listen to what he's saying.

He chuckles at her fucked out expression and crawls over her, grasping her jaw gently. Her eyes are glossed over, blown out as she looks up at him.

"Look at you, fucked out and dumb." He grabs her arms and pulls her up, holding her close as her knees buckle. He smirks as he looks down at her, enjoying how spent she looks.

"You're so pretty like this," he caresses her face gently, wiping a mascara streak off her face before pushing her harshly towards the door.

She stumbles, leaning against the wall for support. "Go on Doll, I'll see you soon," She says nothing as she stumbles out of the faux bedroom, a mix of his cum and her juices trailing down her leg.

She doesn't even remember making it out of the haunted house, nor does she remember making it home. All she knows is that she woke up still dressed in her costume, traces of dirt and blood in the satin material.

She went about her day, quietly getting herself together and trying to come to terms with what happened the previous night. She thought it was all a dream, there was no way that actually happened...Right?

With a huff she walks into her living room and collapses onto the couch, her body still feeling sore from the night she was still trying to understand. She sits in the dark, aimlessly flipping through channels on the TV before the news catches her attention.

"- Here, reporting live from the grounds of Halloween horror nights in Los Angeles, California. It has been reported that as the team was cleaning up after their week of festivities to celebrate Halloween, they found more than ten bodies in the main attraction. I've heard from some of the workers that they have counted up to twenty bodies scattered through the biggest haunted house -still counting. They don't have any suspects so far, nor do they have any camera footage."

She fucked a serial killer.

She knows it's horrible, clenching her thighs as that ache returns between her legs. People actually died, and here she was, thinking about the way his rough hands felt on her body, ravishing her.

She shudders softly at the memory, blinking profusely before switching the channel. She turns on an old rerun of some random show, watching it for a short period of time, when suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She gets this odd feeling, almost unsettling but comforting at the same time.

It's almost like she's being watched

Her eyes dart around the living room, addressing the space as she tries to figure out the source of this feeling. She comes up empty-handed, but her eyes land on her front door.

She stares at the white door, her eye drifting down towards the unlocked knob, hoping that someone would walk through.

Matt watches as the girl stumbles out of the room, his eyes full of never-ending hunger. He knew after this, she was his. There was no way he was letting her go so easily.

His attention was soon drawn to a small shuffling sound coming from the closet. He smirks and walks over, his footsteps sounding like thunder due to his boots. He opens the closet doors and comes face to face with Chris, his mask still covering his face as he looks down shyly.

Matt says nothing as he looks him up and down, his eyes noticing a small wet spot near the younger boy's crotch. Matt smirks, his voice now taunting,

"You liked watching? You always did."

Chris whimpers softly, craning his neck downward in submission toward his older brother.

Matt chuckles and goes to poke fun at him, but stops when Chris slowly holds up the purse. It was tan and woven to look like a basket, the details intricate.

"What is that?''

Chris haphazardly goes through the small basket-like purse, rummaging for a few seconds before pulling out a wallet. He drops the purse and opens up the wallet, pulling out an ID, and holds it out to Matt. Matt eyes the plastic before snatching it out of his hand and looking down at it.

It was her ID.

He looks back at Chris who is already looking at him with hopeful eyes. Matt harshly pats him on the back, his way of showing thanks and affection.

"Good job...Lets finish up here, and then we'll talk about you having your turn with Dollface."

[slerixx]

i. first meeting (wbk series)

synopsis. when two hearts first meet, it sets the stage for a beautiful connection. featuring. sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren, umemiya hajime x f!reader content. fluff, sfw, first meetings (lemme know if i missed any) note. please bear with me on this one, it’s my first ever work in tumblr >.< word count. 3.1k+

series masterlist | ii. attraction

𓍢ִ໋ sakura haruka

it was a warm afternoon, and sakura was patrolling the town alongside suo and nirei. it was just a normal day when an old lady suddenly appeared in front of them, disrupting their usual routine.

“excuse me, but can you boys help me find my cat?” the three of them noticed that the elderly woman looked visibly shaken. she then pointed towards a small alleyway. “he ran that way, and i’m too old to run after him. please, can you help me?”

sakura glanced at suo and nirei, who both nodded in understanding. before leaving, he saw that nirei placed a comforting hand on the elder woman’s shoulder to assure her they would find the cat for her. without hesitation, sakura entered the narrow alley.

the alley was dimly lit, and the sounds of the town faded into the background, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and distant meows.

“according to the old lady, the cat’s fur is white and has mismatched eyes,” suo informed him. “nirei stayed behind just in case the cat goes back. any plans?”

“i’ll follow this path while you check the other end,” sakura called out with a steady voice. of course, he was determined to find the cat. not that he would ever say it out loud.

with a single nod from suo, they both separated.

as sakura carefully made his way deeper into the alley, he spotted a small, trembling ball of white fur perched on a high ledge. it looked scared, and sakura suddenly felt something stir inside him. with careful footsteps so as not to scare the cat, he approached it slowly. but then his shoe made a sound when it stepped on a fallen dry leaf, and the cat’s mismatched eyes met his. just as sakura was about to reach for it, the cat suddenly bolted further down the alley, disappearing around a corner.

sakura grunted in frustration but still followed the cat with determination. he ran after it and turned the corner, only to be met with an unexpected sight.

there, standing in the middle of the alley, was you, holding the white cat in your arms. you looked up and were startled by his sudden appearance.

"oh, um, hi," you said, a bit flustered. "i found this little guy hiding here. is he yours?"

sakura blinked, momentarily taken aback by your presence. his face quickly turned red as he tried to cover his surprise with a frown. "wh-what the… wh-where the hell did you come from? and n-no! he's not mine. an old lady asked us to help find him.”

“is that so?” you smiled gently, seemingly unfazed by his brusque tone. "he seems really scared, though. poor thing."

sakura quickly glanced away before muttering, "y-yeah, well, thanks for catching him." for some unknown reason, he was unable to maintain eye contact.

you then introduced yourself, and sakura spluttered out a response before eventually introducing himself as well, “t-the name’s sakura. sakura haruka.”

after that, you both fell into a somewhat awkward silence. neither of you knew what to say. although you did a quick glance at sakura then the cat, suddenly recognizing a familiar similarity. without thinking, you blurted out, “you sure he’s not yours?”

“i told you he’s not mine!”

after that burst from sakura, he turned away to lead you to where the original owner was. as you walked back together, sakura was still sporting a fuming yet flustered face, with his shoulders raised as if he was embarrassed, and you could practically see steam coming out of his head. you laughed from behind, while still holding onto the small ball of white fur in your arms, which, thankfully, was already asleep.

when you finally arrived at the location, you returned the cat to its grateful owner, who was standing between a guy with yellow hair and a guy with an eyepatch. the old lady thanked you profusely, tears of gratitude in her eyes. "thank you so much! i don't know what i would have done without you furin boys, and you as well, dear," she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

sakura tried to hide his embarrassment with a nonchalant expression. "yeah, yeah, it was nothing," he mumbled, his face still slightly red. "just… don’t let it get away next time!"

you all then bid the older woman goodbye, and as you walked back, you were introduced to the other two guys who sported the same furin uniform as sakura. you also introduced yourself and told them about what happened.

as they resumed their patrol, sakura couldn't help but steal glances at you walking beside him. he tried to act indifferent, but his flustered demeanor gave him away. it was already late in the afternoon, and suo teased him to walk you back to where your home was. you, on the other hand, kindly rejected the offer, saying that you did not want to disrupt their patrol any longer. plus, you still had somewhere to go. as you turned in a different direction, you bid the three guys goodbye, particularly to sakura. “bye, sakura!”

sakura just nodded his head, and after making sure that you were out of sight, suo and nirei went beside him. suo, with a teasing glint in his eye, says, “what a sweet girl, huh?”

“you wanna fight!?”

𓍢ִ໋ suo hayato

it’s not every day that suo gets to meet unique people in his life. other than the guys from furin, no one else has ever piqued his interest.

not until today.

he was having tea at café pothos early in the morning. kotoha, who was behind the counter, would have questioned why he wasn’t accompanied by the other two but decided against it since it’s not really unusual for suo to be alone. there are times when suo actually visits the café and enjoys tea on his own, savoring the tranquility of these solitary moments.

there were a few people inside the café, but it wasn’t really a busy day. as suo sipped on his tea, eye closed, with the calming aroma and taste helping to ease his mind, he was able to sense the things happening around him: the constant jingling of the bells on the door whenever someone opened and closed it, kotoha’s voice calling out orders, and the soft chattering of people around him.

but he caught one particularly distressed voice inside the café, mumbling foreign words. not that he didn’t understand it. quite frankly, he was very familiar with the language.

he opened his eye to find the source of the voice and immediately spotted you, sitting two tables away. he noted that you were looking at the cafe’s menu with a troubled expression, your brow furrowed and lips moving as if rehearsing what to say. he slightly tilted his head and listened closely to what you were saying. once he confirmed the language, he set his cup of tea down on the plate. ever the gentleman, he stood up and made his way over to you.

“do you need any help?” he asked in the same language he had heard you speaking. it wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough to understand. plus, his voice was warm and reassuring.

you, on the other hand, looked up in surprise, relieved to hear someone speaking your native language. embarrassed by the sudden appearance of a guy (who was good-looking even with an eyepatch) in front of you, you ducked your head behind the menu, peeking out cautiously. in a combination of your native language and a bit of japanese, you said, “yes, please. i’ve only been here for a short time, but i still can’t get the hang of japanese.”

suo chuckled softly before explaining every food and beverage available on the menu, describing the dishes with a gentle, knowledgeable tone. he helped you pick out an order and, once confirmed, he turned towards kotoha, who was already looking at him with a raised brow and a smirk, and effortlessly translated the order for you.

you watched him as he spoke, admiring his calm and collected demeanor. once the order was placed, he turned back to you with a friendly smile.

"i’m suo hayato. nice to meet you."

feeling a bit more at ease, you introduced yourself. "thank you so much, suo. i didn’t expect to meet someone who could speak my language here."

suo nodded, still smiling. "no problem at all. i’m glad i could help. are you new in town?"

"sort of. i’ve been here for a few months, but it still feels new to me," you admitted, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and determination.

suo nodded understandingly. "it can be tough adjusting to a new place, especially with the language barrier. if you ever need help, feel free to reach out."

you both decided to share a table once you received your order. the conversation flowed smoothly, with suo teaching you useful japanese phrases and you sharing your experiences in makochi and your decision to stay in japan to study. suo’s calm and friendly demeanor made the interaction enjoyable, and you felt grateful for the unexpected encounter. his genuine interest in your story and his patient explanations helped ease your anxieties.

eventually, it was time to part ways. suo mentioned that nirei had texted him to come to school for a meeting, while you had other errands to run. you exchanged contact information, promising to meet up again soon.

𓍢ִ໋ kaji ren

“yo, kaji! you comin’ with us?” enomoto called out from outside the classroom door. kaji, who was looking out the window, was tapped on the shoulder by kusumi. to avoid repeating what enomoto said, kusumi showed kaji what was written on his phone:

'let’s go visit a newly opened music store! it opened just 5 days ago.'

that's how the three of them ended up at the new store in the middle of town. although kaji was reluctant to go at first, he decided to tag along because he wanted to look for a specific album his favorite artist had released two days ago. he didn't want to miss the chance to find it, especially since it might be available in the new store.

the sound of music and the scent of new merchandise filled the air. while enomoto and kusumi chatted excitedly and explored the aisles, kaji wandered off on his own, adjusting his headphones over his head. he let his vice-captains explore while he searched for the album he had been eager to buy.

when he finally found the aisle where the album might be, he carefully scanned the shelves. after searching nonstop, he finally spotted it on the top shelf. there was only one copy left. he had expected this since the artist was pretty famous, so of course it would sell out quickly.

fortunately, kaji was able to find the last copy for the day, and with a barely contained gleam of excitement in his eyes, he reached out for it. however, he noticed another arm reaching for the same album. since he was taller and the album was on a high shelf, he grabbed it first.

he looked down and saw you standing there, your hand still outstretched. you were clearly reaching for the same album.

"oh, sorry about that," you said, lowering your arm and looking up at him. there was a bit of disappointment on your face, but you quickly wiped it off with a smile. “i guess you got to it first.”

kaji moved his headphones around his neck, barely catching what you said. he looked at you and noticed how your eyes focused on the album in his hand. twirling the lollipop in his mouth while thinking about what to do, he debated whether to call enomoto and kusumi over to help him out.

not knowing what to say, he just stared at you, so you sheepishly continued, “uh, i should go look for something else, then.”

his eyes followed you as you passed by him to go to another aisle, and he felt a bit embarrassed by the encounter. plus, he hadn't even uttered a word to you. after hesitating for a bit, he decided to follow you.

you, on the other hand, were a bit saddened that you couldn’t get the last copy of the album your friend wanted for her birthday. it was the only gift you could think of, remembering how she would talk to you about the artist and the new album.

with a heavy sigh, you looked through the shelves, hoping to find something else of interest to your friend. you were so focused that you didn’t notice kaji behind you. he tapped you on the shoulder to get your attention. you jumped a bit before turning around to see who it was. you were surprised to see the guy from earlier again. confused but still friendly, you asked, “can i help you?”

kaji noticed the genuine friendliness in your demeanor, and although it was out of character for him to give up something he really wanted, he couldn’t forget the slight disappointment on your face.

“here," he said, handing you the album. "you can have it."

“wait, what?” you blinked, genuinely surprised by the sudden act. "really?”

he shrugged, putting a new lollipop back in his mouth. "it's no big deal. i can get it another time."

“thank you so much!”

as you took the album from him, you introduced yourself with a big smile, and kaji introduced himself back. you started talking about the music store, and he found himself responding more than he usually did with people he just met. despite his quiet nature, you managed to make the conversation flow easily.

after a while, enomoto and kusumi eventually found him, and you gave them a polite nod after paying for the album at the counter. "well, it was nice meeting you, kaji. thanks again for the album!"

"yeah," he replied while nodding, watching as you walk away.

as he turned back to his vice-captains, enomoto grinned. "making new friends already, captain?"

"shut up, enomoto," kaji rolled his eyes, putting his headphones back over his head.

kusumi smiled and showed what was written on his phone:

‘come on, let's check out the rest of the store.’

kaji followed them, a lollipop in his mouth, as he thought about what other album he should check out.

𓍢ִ໋ umemiya hajime

"hajime-kun, thank you once again for helping me carry these boxes into the store!"

"no problem at all!" umemiya exclaimed, his face beaming with a big smile after placing the last box on top of the pile. "glad i could help ya!"

one of umemiya's regular weekend routines is to go into town and assist townspeople in need. today, he came across mr. (l/n), a kind old man who was struggling to move boxes from his truck into his plant shop, which he runs with his wife. umemiya is very familiar with the sweet couple, often helping them around the store or running errands for them.

whenever umemiya comes by, they give him snacks, and once they even gifted him an indoor potted plant after he helped clean up the store following a gang fight. that plant now sits by the window in his room at the orphanage, a cherished gift he takes good care of. he is deeply grateful to the couple, who treat him like their own grandchild.

dusting off imaginary dirt from his hands, the 13-year-old umemiya asked, “is there anything else you need help with?”

mr. (l/n) hummed thoughtfully. after a moment, he exclaimed, “ah! are you busy after this, hajime-kun?”

umemiya blinked, then looked up, trying to recall if he had any plans for the day. when he realized he didn't, he shook his head.

"then," the old man clasped umemiya’s hand in his larger ones, his voice gentle yet tinged with concern. "could you check on my granddaughter? she went to the convenience store nearby, but my wife is worried she might get lost."

“your granddaughter?” umemiya asked curiously. he had never heard about mr. (l/n)’s granddaughter before, despite frequently visiting the store whenever he had free time.

“yes,” the old man nodded, releasing umemiya’s hands and turning to look outside. “she lives in furano with her parents and arrived two days ago to visit us. while this isn’t her first time in makochi, it’s her first time exploring on her own.”

“so, hajime-kun,” mr. (l/n) turned back to him with a closed-eye smile, “will you please go after my granddaughter to see if she’s alright?”

umemiya grinned and nodded, “sure!”

mr. (l/n) described his granddaughter to umemiya before he left the plant store to find you. he went to the nearest convenience store to check if you were still there, but you were nowhere to be found. he also noted that he didn’t see you on his way there.

she’s probably already lost. i must find her quickly.

umemiya checked alleyways, hoping to find you, but still saw no sign of a girl matching mr. (l/n)’s description.

he was already a bit far from the convenience store when he spotted a girl a few inches away, wandering aimlessly with a plastic bag in hand. she muttered something under her breath, but ume still heard it.

“oh great, we’re just walking in circles in this town.”

ume approached to confirm if this was mr. (l/n)’s granddaughter. as he got closer, you looked up, hearing his footsteps.

upon seeing your face, umemiya noticed a resemblance to mr. (l/n). to be sure, he asked with a gentle smile, “hi, are you (l/n)-san’s granddaughter?”

you blinked at the boy, who seemed about your age, before furrowing your eyebrows. “um, yeah. how’d you know?”

“i was helping out at the store a while ago and (l/n)-san asked me to escort you back home just in case you get lost!”

“w-who said i was lost?” you defended yourself. confident in your ability to navigate, you felt certain despite it being more than a year since your last visit to your grandparents' town. “i just got a bit sidetracked, that’s all!”

“really?” umemiya tilted his head. “but i’m pretty sure i heard you muttering that you were walking around–”

“okay! okay,” you interrupted, waving your arms to stop him. “you caught me, alright? but don’t tell my grandpa about this!”

umemiya laughed before introducing himself. you narrowed your eyes at him but introduced yourself as well. the two of you fell into conversation as you made your way back to your grandparents' house, and umemiya promised to tour you around town if he got the chance to meet you again.

reblogs are deeply appreciated !

© slerrix 2024. all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, or repost any work as your own.

␥ banner design inspo: link

[blackkatdraws2]

[Achromatic Loop AU] アゴニー (agony)

[AUDIO USED:] アゴニー (agony)

↓ info dump underneath ↓ 

In case some of you are confused on why I made another post about this animation, I made the first post to promote my Youtube and this one is for Tumblr.

My main inspiration for this AUs' plot and characterizations is the original TSP game in 2011, The Stanley Parable Half Life 2 MOD! [As their story progresses, so will the version of the game.]

Stanley's life continued as normal until one day, in the middle of his work, he suddenly had a strange feeling of 'wrongness'. Ignoring it only worsened the feeling and nothing he did ever made it disappear. He doesn't know when, but he started hearing an old man's voice everywhere he went.

The Narrator's [Grey's] voice held power over everything he spoke to, be it subjects, objects, or settings. Everything he wills goes, including Stanley.

Stanley's awareness made the Parable start having problems, as the usual storyline that they've always done was not being followed anymore due to canon divergence and out-of-character behavior from the main character.

Over and over again, Stanley's insistence to breaking the story has led to the Narrator being forced to use more forceful methods to get the man to follow.

Eventually, as Stanley was about to die again after a particularly violent ending, Stanley's vision blurs and he sees walls of words in front of him.

He realizes that they were the scripts the Narrator [Grey] would read for his story. He shatters the set plot destined for him to follow and the entire Parable falls apart as the story that maintained it was no longer stable.

They both fall into a sort of alternate version of their setting, filled with unused assets, unexplored rooms, and drafted or erased plotlines left down in this achromatic world like garbage. This was their first contact with each other.

[connorsui]

Luke & Kieran/ Sylus x wife! Reader || Imagine ||

"One last game!"

Note: not as polished as I would like but I did always imagined how these two would be like around their boss kid? -

The evening was coming to a close, and the house, bathed in a soft, warm glow, looked like it had been hit by a miniature hurricane. Pink toys—plushies, blocks, glittery shoes—were scattered haphazardly across the living room floor, the remnants of what had once been an innocent evening of fun. Now, the peaceful warmth of the home had been overtaken by a growing sense of chaos as frantic footsteps reverberated through the hallways.

Luke and Kieran were in full-blown panic mode, tearing through the house. They tossed pillows, peeked under tables, and flung open every door, desperately searching for a toddler who had seemingly vanished without a trace.

“You can trust us with the kid, we said! Nothing bad will happen, we said!” Kieran muttered bitterly, lifting a cushion and glancing under the couch. “And now look! Thirty minutes of searching, and she’s gone! GONE!” His voice cracked as he threw the cushion across the room in frustration.

Luke, visibly rattled but trying to maintain some semblance of calm, walked over to Kieran. “Come on, she couldn’t have gotten that far, right? I mean, her legs are tiny! Point A to point B takes her forever.”

Kieran, still crouched on the floor, slowly rose and stared at Luke, incredulous. “Yeah, and you remember how fast she moved when she took Mephisto on that ‘plane ride’ with her plushies? Thought the bird was too slow to fly?”

Luke folded his arms, trying to look nonchalant but clearly feeling the pressure. “Okay, yeah. And your point?”

“My point is... the kid can run.”

“Oh, that’s just perfect,” Luke groaned dramatically, flopping onto the floor in complete defeat. “None of this would’ve happened if someone hadn’t suggested one ‘finaaaal’ game with the boss’s kid. One minute she’s here, and the next—POOF! Gone. With a trail of glitter.”

Kieran stared at Luke in disbelief. Even though they were both wearing masks, Luke could feel the heat of Kieran’s glare. “Wait—are you seriously blaming me for this?”

“Who else?”

Kieran threw his hands up. “Who else? Uh, who was it that thought party cans were a great ‘welcome back’ surprise for the boss and his wife, huh?”

“Well, it was either that or hide-and-seek, and you—”

Before Luke could finish his retort, they both froze. A burst of giggles echoed from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable click of a door locking. They stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“How… how did she get upstairs!?” Luke whispered in disbelief, his voice shaky.

Without a word, they both bolted toward the staircase, skidding to a halt at the sight of the baby gate, now hanging loosely by its hinges. It was tilted precariously, as if it had been outwitted by the most cunning toddler alive.

“Oh, she’s smart—” Luke began, but Kieran cut him off with a sharp smack to the back of his head.

“Focus!” Kieran growled, stepping forward. “Alright, kiddo, time to come out now!” His voice was firm but coaxing. But instead of the sound of obedient little feet, they were met with more giggling, playful and distant, echoing through the upstairs hallway.

Luke exchanged a glance with Kieran, who rolled his eyes as they both cautiously climbed the stairs. “This is going to be bad,” Luke muttered under his breath.

The upstairs hallway was dimly lit, the shadows stretching along the walls. Suddenly, Sylus' daughter peeked her head around the corner, her bright red eyes wide with mischief. The second she spotted them, she squealed with delight and darted away, disappearing around the bend.

“Oh, come on!” Kieran groaned, as they raced after her, rounding the corner just in time to see the door to the boss’s office wide open.

“There’s no way she’s in there...” Luke whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How did she even get in here?” Kieran asked, just as confused.

They entered the office cautiously, careful not to disturb anything. The room was pristine, neatly organized—until they noticed a pair of tiny feet peeking out from beneath the desk. And there it was again: that unmistakable giggle.

Kieran’s eyes lit up with an idea. He motioned for Luke to come closer. “Alright, here’s the plan: you go left, I’ll take the right. We jump out, and give her a little scare.”

Luke grinned. “Perfect.”

They positioned themselves on either side of the desk, ready to strike. But before they could even make their move, Sylus' daughter popped out from beneath the desk, a wide grin plastered across her face.

“Surprise!” she shrieked, spraying them both with party cans they had been saving for later. Neon foam shot out, covering Luke and Kieran in a sticky mess of silly string as the toddler collapsed into giggles.

“Surprise! Surprise! I win! I win!” she chanted, hopping up and down with glee as she sprayed them again.

Luke, now covered head to toe in foam, looked over at Kieran, both of them utterly defeated, but unable to suppress a smile. Her excitement was contagious.

“Alright, that’s enough, kiddo,” Luke laughed, scooping her up as she squealed, still waving the can.

Kieran quickly snatched the can from her, shaking his head with a playful smirk. “Yeah, yeah. You win.”

Setting her down, they both attempted to question her about her little escapade, but all she did was giggle uncontrollably, covering her face with her tiny hands. “I didnt leeeaaveee I played!, I played and won” she squealed between bursts of laughter.

Before they could question her even further, the sound of footsteps behind them made them freeze. They slowly turned, only to see You and Sylus standing in the doorway, watching the scene unfold with amused expressions.

Silly string wasn’t just on Luke and Kieran—it was everywhere. The desk, the chair, the floor—nothing had escaped the carnage.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to hide the laughter. “I - I ...take it you all had a great time?”

Luke and Kieran stood in stunned silence, caught red-handed in the chaos, while Sylus' daughter grinned proudly.

“Mommy! Mommy!” she cried, running towards you with open arms. “We had so much fun today! Mommy, look!”

You bent down, scooping her up with a warm smile, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I can see that, sweetheart.”

As Luke and Kieran stood there, still sticky and covered in foam, they glanced over at Sylus, who crossed his arms, looking every bit the stern boss. His eyes flicked over the mess, then back at the two men, who stood awkwardly under his gaze.

“Uh... we tried our best,” Luke muttered weakly, scratching the back of his head. “She’s... uh, faster than she looks.”

Kieran nodded, backing him up. “Yeah, I mean, we had a plan! But she outsmarted us.”

You stifled another laugh, turning to Sylus. “Go easy on them. They did try, after all.”

Sylus’ expression softened, though the hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “No promises,” he muttered, before walking past them into the office to inspect the damage.

[bamfkeeper]

Bamf Who Cried Bamf.

RQ: 'Hear me out: one of the Bamfs gets hurt so you give it a lil extra attention and it just soaks the love straight up. Lookin all smug at the other Bamfs all curled up in your arms and being all snuggly-Next thing you know when you see Kurt and the Bamfs next all the little guys are pretending to be hurt to get special treatment.' - @dinogoofy

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | Warnings: Light description of injuries, I use it/he/they pronouns for the bamfs.

A/N: This is so sweet! I love the little bamfs getting jealous~ But I also like the idea of caring for one and it needing you. Unedited I'm lazy. | WC: 2.8k

The bamfs were unruly most days, their mischievous souls often getting the better of them. They were quite the handful, like terrible toddlers in their behavior and demands for attention, making them even more challenging to manage.

With teleportation powers at their disposal, these little creatures could appear and disappear at any time, often causing chaos in their wake.

Great. Sometimes you forget they can teleport.

Most days, you found yourself playing the role of 'mother hen' so to speak. Kurt often took on the role of playmate, engaging the bamfs in games and keeping them entertained, you were the one who actually took care of their day-to-day needs. This division of labor seemed to work well, with each of you contributing in your own way to the bamfs' well-being. Despite the occasional frustrations, you didn't mind your caretaker role.

As terrible as they could be sometimes with their sudden appearances and disappearances causing no end of trouble, they were equally as sweet in their affectionate moments. Curling up with them felt so natural to you, a comforting routine that brought joy to both you and the bamfs. You loved holding them close, feeling their small bodies nestled against you, and placing gentle kisses on their tiny heads. The soft purrs they emitted during these quiet moments were incredibly relaxing for you, a soothing balm after the chaos of the day.

The current day felt wonderfully lazy, a much-needed respite from the hectic pace of life you and Kurt had been maintaining lately. This afternoon of relaxation was essential, a well-deserved break from the constant hustle and bustle. The bamfs, ever-energetic, were engaged in their usual playful antics, either scampering about the room or deeply absorbed in one of the numerous activities you had provided for them.

You and Kurt had settled comfortably on the couch, your bodies finding that perfect position of relaxation. Kurt's hand moved in a soothing rhythm up and down your back, his touch both comforting and intimate. The gentle caress lulled you both into a state of peaceful semi-consciousness, hovering between wakefulness and sleep. His hand slipping under your shirt to feel your warm skin, soothingly tracing gentle patterns with no direction or meaning.

The serene quiet was abruptly shattered by a resounding bang emanating from the adjacent room. The sudden noise jolted you both from your peaceful reverie, your eyes snapping open in surprise. Your body tensed instinctively as you jerked upright, instantly alert. Exchanging a quick glance with Kurt, you both sprang into action without a word. You swiftly disentangled yourself from Kurt's embrace and the comfort of the couch, your movements mirrored by his own.

As you and Kurt entered the room, you were immediately struck by the sight of several bamfs, their large eyes filled with concern and apprehension. It was clear that something was wrong. Suddenly, the air was pierced by the faint, distressed cries of a bamf. Without hesitation, you found yourself instinctively drawn towards the source of the sound.

Venturing further into the room, your eyes were drawn to movement near a large, ornate dresser. A small, blue figure emerged from beneath it, struggling to free itself. The heavy, wooden piece of furniture had toppled over, trapping one of the unfortunate bamfs underneath its considerable weight. The trapped bamf’s lower body was pinned beneath the dresser, it struggled and pulled frantically, desperate to escape.

You immediately rushed to the bamf's aid, your heart racing with urgency, Kurt was right beside you. Kurt grasped the edge of the dresser and began to lift, the muscles in his arms strained as he raised the heavy furniture just enough to create a small gap. You reached under the dresser and grasped the bamf's small form, pulling the creature out from its trapped position.

The bamf's anguished wails pierced the air, its tiny leg displaying an alarming deep violet bruise and an unsettling twist. Your voice was a mixture of concern and urgency, "Kurt, look at his leg…" You gestured towards the injured limb as the bamf continued to emit heart-wrenching cries against your chest. Kurt's face immediately contorted with worry, his hands reaching out instinctively towards the distressed creature.

"I've got him, liebling..." Kurt murmured softly, his arms gently enveloping the bamf as he carefully lifted it from your embrace. The moment the transfer occurred, the bamf's cries escalated dramatically. Its small face flushed a disconcerting shade of purple as its wails intensified, mimicking an exceptionally irate newborn. Kurt's golden eyes widened in shock, darting between you and the bamf before swiftly returning the distraught creature to your arms.

You instinctively cradled the bamf against you once more, your face a mirror of Kurt's concern. "Shh, sh, it's okay, shh..." you cooed soothingly, your voice a gentle whisper as you began to rock the little one in your arms. Your movements were slow and deliberate, hoping to provide comfort to the distressed creature. The bamf's cries began to soften ever so slightly in response to your tender ministrations, though its injured leg still twitched occasionally, reminding you the poor thing was in immense pain.

"We have to get him to Hank immediately. He can make a small cast for the little one, right?" You asked Kurt with a furrowed brow, your voice laced with concern for the injured bamf cradled gently in your arms. Kurt nodded solemnly, his expression full of worry. You carried the wounded bamf out of the room, heading towards Hank's state-of-the-art laboratory. The atmosphere was thick with tension as the other bamfs followed in complete silence. Their typically vibrant bodies seemed to have shrunk slightly, a physical manifestation of their collective anxiety for their injured companion, perhaps some guilt swirled in their guts, but mostly worry.

Upon reaching the lab, Hank immediately set to work. His nimble fingers and vast expertise allowed him to craft a perfectly sized cast with remarkable efficiency, you expected nothing less from the scientist. The injured bamf, clearly overwhelmed by the unfamiliar situation, alternated between curious glances at the cast and apprehensive looks at his surroundings.

Hank's thorough examination revealed the full extent of the injuries: the little one's leg was fractured in multiple places, necessitating complete rest to heal properly. Additionally, a myriad of bruises peppered its small body, and several other minor fractures were identified. It was clear that the bamf would require an extended period of intensive care and attention, far beyond what was typically needed for these resilient creatures.

You carefully cradled the injured bamf back in your arms, a gentle smile spread across your face, the soft, blue fuzz of the creature tickled your skin. You were more than prepared to provide the extra care and attention this little one would need.

Several days had passed since the unfortunate incident, and a noticeable change had come over the other bamfs. Their usual exuberance had been tempered, replaced with concern for their injured companion. They watched with worried eyes as their weakened brethren spent most of its time resting on the couch in your company. The injured bamf found solace either cradled in your arms or nestled in the cozy nest you had fashioned from cushioned blankets, specially arranged for its comfort.

The bond between you and the injured bamf had grown increasingly strong. It had become deeply attached to your presence, emitting plaintive cries whenever you strayed too far from its side. Your nurturing instincts had fully awakened, and you found yourself constantly fussing over the little creature. You spoon-fed the bamf its meals, ensuring it received proper nourishment, even though it could fully chew and eat on its own. You applied soothing, numbing cream to its sore spots, your fingers moving with delicately avoid causing any additional discomfort.

The days progressed, the sweet blue creature seemed to crave your nearness more and more. It often curled up against you, seeking the warmth and security of your embrace. It bore a striking resemblance to a needy infant, completely dependent on your care and affection. Your instincts were extremely high and you couldn’t help but tend to it like it were your own offspring.

The bamf's condition was steadily improving as time passed. Initially, its movements were tentative and unsteady, but it gradually regained the ability to walk and engage in playful activities, albeit with a noticeable slowness and slight wobble. As the days went by, its progress accelerated remarkably. Soon enough, the little creature was able to crawl with increasing confidence, walk, and eventually run with newfound energy.

Your unwavering attention and care had been solely focused on nurturing the injured bamf back to health. You inadvertently overlooked the growing sense of jealousy emanating from the other bamfs. Their longing gazes went unnoticed as they silently yearned for your affection and attention. Even the injured bamf, who had been the center of your care, began to sense a shift in your attentiveness as its need for constant care diminished with its improving health.

The day finally arrived when the bamf's cast was removed, marking a significant milestone in its recovery. It was exciting for you and Kurt, and a big relief since that meant the bamf was fully recovered. Instead of feeling elated, the little creature was overcome with a wave of sadness. It couldn't help but worry that this meant you would no longer shower it with the same level of care and attention it had grown accustomed to. It gazed up at you with its big, expressive eyes and extended its tiny arms upward, silently pleading to be picked up and held close.

You sighed, knowing it was feeling a bit strange now that the cast was off. You responded with gentle encouragement, "Now, darling," you said in a sweet, soothing tone, "You've got to walk on your leg to make sure it's properly healed and strong." You helped the bamf down from the examination table, gently supporting it as you guided its feet to the floor.

The bamf, still clinging to its desire for continued attention, stubbornly began to walk around the room. Its gait was accompanied by an adorable pout, a clear indication of its reluctance to accept that its leg was indeed healed and no longer required your constant care.

You smiled at the bamf, despite its apparent distress. You reasoned that it was likely just adjusting to life without the cast. It began to slowly engage in play once more, albeit with a noticeable reservation in its demeanor. Occasionally it would emit a plaintive cry in your direction, seeking your comfort. However, Kurt gently reminded you of the importance of allowing it to regain independence. "Liebling, there's no need to coddle it anymore," he explained softly. "Hank said it’s important to let it become accustomed to moving freely now that the cast has been removed. It's just part of the recovery process."

"I understand, I really do," you replied, your voice tinged with concern. "But... just look at him over there. He seems so isolated." Your gaze drifted to where the bamf sat, a solitary figure observing the playful antics of its companions from a distance. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, making it difficult to resist the urge to intervene.

Kurt's expression softened as he followed your line of sight. "I know it's hard to watch," he acknowledged, his tone empathetic yet reassuring. "But try to see it from a different perspective. He's not necessarily sad - he's just... exercising caution, you know? It's a natural response after what he's been through." Kurt offered a gentle shrug, his words aimed at alleviating your worries. "He's alright, truly. There's no need for concern. This is all part of his journey back to full health and confidence." He grinned, his tail curling around your ankle affectionately.

A few days later, you began to notice a peculiar change in its behavior. The small bamf seemed to be constantly in distress, it would cry out frequently, its voice filled with what appeared to be genuine anguish, and it seemed to have become remarkably accident-prone. The bamf would wail and whine, calling for you specifically, its voice tinged with desperation. Your natural response was to rush to its side, gently cradling the seemingly distressed creature in your arms. You'd whisper soothing words, trying to calm its apparent fears and alleviate its discomfort, always ensuring it was physically unharmed.

However, these incidents of minor injuries and emotional outbursts continued to occur with alarming regularity, causing your worry to deepen with each passing day. The bamf's cries for attention grew more frequent and intense, with large, glistening tears streaming down its fuzzy cheeks as you held it close, attempting to provide comfort and reassurance.

Kurt, however, maintained a skeptical stance throughout these occurrences. His suspicions were aroused by the bamf's behavior, which seemed oddly calculated to him.

Kurt found himself crossing his arms, his gaze fixed intently on the bamf. His keen eyes didn't miss the fleeting, but unmistakable, prideful smile that the creature flashed to its fellow bamfs when it thought no one was watching. Kurt realized with growing certainty that those big, heart-wrenching tears were nothing more than an elaborate act – as fake as they were effective.

The bamf had masterfully crafted this performance, taking full advantage of your nurturing nature. You, in your kindness and genuine concern, were simply too caring and empathetic to see through the clever ruse that the mischievous creature had concocted to garner your undivided attention and affection.

Those crocodile tears worked every time.

"Liebling, he's faking it," Kurt attempted to explain, his brow furrowing as he gazed at you with concern. "He's not actually hurt; he's perfectly fine. Have you ever seen any of these supposed accidents?" He inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of skepticism. In response, you found yourself slowly shaking your head, uncertainty creeping into your expression.

"Well, no..." you admitted hesitantly, your own frown deepening as you considered his words. "But you have to remember, he's only recently recovered from a serious injury! There's a possibility that he could be experiencing some lingering effects or complications," you reasoned, your voice filled with genuine concern for the little creature's well-being.

Kurt's expression softened slightly, but the puzzlement remained evident in his eyes. "I'm struggling to understand why he would engage in such behavior," he mused, his gaze shifting to the bamf nestled in your arms. With a gentle but firm tone, he addressed the small creature directly. "Now, listen carefully, little one. This deception cannot continue. I believe I understand why you are behaving this way…you enjoy the attention and care that liebe lavishes upon you, don't you? I must admit, I too appreciate when they tend to me with such devotion." Kurt carefully lifted the bamf from your embrace, and to your surprise, the little creature offered no resistance.

The bamf's large, expressive eyes blinked up at Kurt, a mixture of guilt and sadness evident in its gaze. It then glanced towards you, its tiny features contorting into a remorseful frown. The sight of its drooping ears and that unmistakable pout tugged at your heartstrings, silently communicating that the little creature had indeed understood the gravity of its actions.

"Aww, is that really what's been bothering you? You've been craving attention like you used to get, haven't you?" you cooed softly to the bamf, gently scooping it back into your arms. Your voice was filled with warmth, "Just because I'm not fussing as much, doesn't mean I love you any less, sweet baby."

You cradled the bamf close to your chest, feeling its small body relax against you. "I love you just as much as I always have, even if I'm not able to tend to your every need 24/7 anymore," you reassured, your fingers finding their way to its belly. You began to tickle gently, your touch light and playful. "See? We can still have our special moments," you murmured, watching with delight as the bamf's pout slowly transformed into a happy, toothy smile.

Kurt observed the scene with a sense of relief washing over him. It seemed the troublesome behavior might finally come to an end, which was a welcome development. Leaning in, he affectionately ruffled the bamf's hair, eliciting a small giggle from the creature. "No more crying wolf, you hear little one?" Kurt added with a wink, his voice carrying a gentle note of admonishment and obvious fondness.

"Bamf!"

A sudden noise from the adjacent room caused your heart to race, prompting you and Kurt to rush into the living room. Upon entering, your eyes widened as a sense of déjà vu washed over you along with that urge to nurture, coming back full force. The collective distress of these tiny creatures filled the room with urgency and concern.

You saw all of the bamfs scattered across the floor, their small bodies sprawled out in various positions. They were emitting pitiful cries and mewling sounds, clearly seeking your attention and comfort. Just like the first one.

No obvious cause of injury.

Kurt sighed, his hand moving over his face as he sighed heavily, "Oh, großartig..."

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedbylight & @/strangergraphics

Cover Image: Nightcrawler (2014) #5

[cherubfae]

𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 || {𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢}

tags: fluff, shy!gn!reader, ftm!reader for Angel 💕 crushing/mutual pining, pre-established relationships, blitz's relationship/intimacy issues (but we gonna get that healthy growth we need), striker's is a bit suggestive!

Alastor

You weren't sure the barrier of touching Alastor would ever be something that would be crossed and you told yourself that you didn't mind. You chose to revel in the moments of when he sought out affections and physical closeness be it dancing or if he suddenly tugs you in to tell you something. Alastor is not very privy to other people's space and Heaven forbid someone enter his without permission. Quite the contradiction.

Now, if he notices you're purposely not trying to give him any sort of touch or affection, he will get rather annoyed. You, darling, are the only one who he doesn't mind touching him. Has he expressed this? No. Will he? Maybe. Did he expect you to be able to read his mind? Quite possibly.

Alastor hoped to have made a smoother transition rather than just outright grasping your hand. Even he seemed surprised by his own action, static feedback chirping from him. His ears flick and the slightest sliver of a blush creeps from beneath his suit collar.

"I don't mind if it's you, dearest. I... I don't detest your touch as much as the others." Alastor clears his throat, his large hand briefly covers your smaller one. Giving your hand a little squeeze, he stands abruptly and disappears into shadow and darkness.

You'd never seen Alastor embarrassed before. How cute.

Lucifer

He's a pretty affectionate guy, especially once he's comfortable around you! His heart warms as you mindlessly play with your fingers, eyes looking everywhere but at him. The more you feel his stare, the more the blush darkens on your face.

"Take it easy there, sweetling," Lucifer's soft tone eases your senses. Pressing a light kiss to your forehead, he pulls back. He offers his hand, palm upwards, giving you time to back away. His gentle smile deepens when you slip your hand in his, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. Tugging you to his side gently, your shoulders brushing, you continue on the sidewalk towards Hell's finest local café.

Husk

While not one for PDA, Husk doesn't mind affection behind closed doors. Preferably out of sight of anyone who may mock and tease him for it.

He didn't however expect you to be sitting on his bed, thumbs lightly pressing into the center of his paw watching his claws go from being exposed and then retracting thanks to your gentle manipulations. He snorts lightly, as silly as you were, he couldn't be mad at your fascination.

"You're lucky you're cute, hun. If you were anyone else I may not be as nice as I am with ya." Husk smirks. Maintaining complete eye contact, you raise his paw to your lips and give it a soft kiss, grinning as Husk jolts with a huffy mrow. "Sneaky brat," he sighs, falling back on his bed with an arm over his eyes.

Angel Dust

You want to hold his hand? Which one, babe? He's got six! :) Angel is understanding of your shy nature, though he hopes you'll be able to be more bold with him in the future. He won't pressure you, of course, but he wants you to know that you can trust him. That he is capable of taking things slow.

"Is this okay?" Angel asks, softly grasping your hand in his gloved one. When you make no move to pull from his touch, a happy wobbly smile wiggles onto his face. He lightly leans his cheek against the top of your head, a brief sign of his affection. He can snuggle you more later, but for now, he wants to enjoy the day with his favorite person.♡

Vox

Intimacy of any sorts isn't foreign to him, but he's not used to someone so good, so pure. And he's certainly not used to that innocent attention being directed at him. Any time you touch him, even if you only accidentally brushed past him, it leaves him buzzing. Craving for something more. He wants your sweet smile to be directed at him and him alone. It takes everything in Vox not to scream when you give his hand a small squeeze only to pull back, muttering apologies. Soon, he's reaching for you again, taking your hand in his.

"I didn't say that I hated it." Vox whispered in an uncharacteristically soft way. His eyes flicker up to your face, then back to see where his hand has dwarfed yours. With his free hand falling to your hip, lightly stroking circles there, he pulls you to stand between his legs. Your other arm slides to rest on his shoulder as his clawed hand curls around the back of your knee. Intimate but not forceful. There's no aggression in his movements. Lifting your head towards him, even with Vox sitting down, he's much taller than you. His eyes hold a silent question, one that you answer with that smile he loves so much and a nod, and his lips press to yours with your hands still joined.

Blitzø

Romantic gestures are a big deal for him. Big in the way that he struggles with them, but that he doesn't want it to be something that holds him back. He really doesn't. Familial and platonic he understands, but Blitz is pretty damned confused with the fact that you want to even be near someone like him. He doesn't want to inadvertently hurt you by acting how he does. He doesn't wanna fuck up, but goddammit, he really does want to be near you. He wants to be able to give you everything you could need and more, he just doesn't know how. How to unfuck himself.

"Sl-slow," Blitz's voice betrays him with a crack and he swallows thickly, taking your hand in his. Ever grateful that you're the ones in I.M.P right now. This is different. Intimate. He's shaky, palms sweaty. His brain feels foggy and it's suddenly hotter than normal. He feels dizzy and like the floor may break beneath his feet and swallow him whole. The second you start to withdraw, he's tugging you back to him with a soft, raspy, "No." This is progress. Progress is good.

Facing him now, your other hand slides up to his. Both your palms are pressed together. Blitz keeps his gaze on the floor, unable to help how fidgety he feels, even as he laces your fingers together, and leans his head onto your shoulder. He's not gonna let you pull away. Not yet. Please...

Loona

Lighting up a cigarette, Loona leans her back against a wall of some dingy alleyway in the human world. You had chosen to wait with her, both dressed in your human disguises, hoping that any second Blitz and M&M would return with the mission completed. Your sole purpose tonight had been to guard Stolas's grimoire and open the portal when everyone was ready to return home.

Blowing her smoke towards the sky, Loona hummed softly. "At least it's a nice night, huh?" She smiles lightly, grateful her tail was hidden in this form when you leaned against the wall beside her. You looked great; you always did.

A vast blue sky with billions of twinkling stars smiled down on you two. It was a nice change of pace from the hellish red glow of your home. This particular area of Earth was quiet. Peaceful, even. Nodding your head you smile at her, Loona swallows.

Her pinky finger lightly brushed your own, a gentle startled gasp leaving you. But you smile, albeit shyly, your hand taking hers. Not many words were exchanged, none needed to be. Just Loona smoking her cigarette and looking up at the stars.

Striker

Ain't you just the cutest little thing? You think he doesn't notice how worked up and shy you get when he's just finished wrangling in some dinner, with his bare, sweaty muscles on display. It's a direct, unvoiced invite for only you and yet you haven't taken him up on anything yet. Why?

"You scared of me, sugar?" Striker drawls, flicking his cigar butt into the dirt and crushing it with the heel of his boot. You look up at him with those big, beautiful doe eyes and adamantly shake your head that you weren't. "Then what is it, darlin'? Spit it out." He smirks, gold tooth glinting.

Cheeks heating, you gnaw on your lower lip. "I'd like to hold your hand." Striker blinks, clearly taken aback. That's it? You're getting so worked up like a nervous virgin begging for a thick cock because you want to... Hold his hand? He stops himself from laughing, he can tell that it's really bothering you. Heaving a sigh, Striker plops down beside you. Pulling you into his lap, his arms slide around your waist and he offers both his hands to you. He hides his reddening face at your back, the sound of his blood rushes in his ears, unable to focus on anything but how soft your hands are. And how well they fit into his. "Jus' do it then, they're yours to touch, ain't they?"

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[primofate]

3 am brainrot

Soulmate, but Genshin Impact Style

Warning: angst (lots of potential to be fluff and comfort ending tho)

Vision "resonates" with each other and a thin red line connects your vision to their vision

Thin red line disappears, frays, or splits off when something is wrong with the connection or the other person

You can use their element and they can use yours. If you are the same element it provides an elemental increase.

Element exchange also stops or weakens when there's something wrong with the connection or the other person

There's a kind of "sixth sense" activated wherein you can kind of feel each other's psyche

Imagining what it would be like for power hungry Scaramouche to find out he has access to another element. Meets a complete stranger and suddenly he's stronger. Starts to keep you close only for that reason, doesn't care much about your well being in general. Then finding out that he can STILL use your element even if the two of you are far apart. You part ways rather abruptly, and he's not sure how long it had been when the red line starts to fray and his access to your element starts to dwindle. He doesn't think much of it, but day by day it gets weaker and day by day the red line disappears a little more. A sudden sense of "If that line disappears I won't ever be able to follow it back to y/n" so he starts following it. He doesn't really notice there's a sense of urgency in him, he tells himself its only because he wants the power back, but when he rouses from a short rest to find that the red line is gone... why does it suddenly feel like he's all alone again?

Imagining characters like Xiao, Cyno and Alhaitham who completely rejects using your element. They don't need yours. They are just fine and all is well using only their own. In a sense they take pride in what they have, and doesn't really care for what power you can give. They aren't interested in maintaining a relationship with a stranger either, because, what for? However, you're slightly persistent in at least getting to know a little about them. Just a tiny bit. But that tiny bit is enough to push them to tell you he's not interested in any kind of chit chat, that he's busy and needs to focus on other things. So you turn away. Out of curiosity one day he tries to use your element. It strangely gives him the feeling of warmth. Like someone's protecting and watching over them (and for someone who always does the protecting, this is a big deal). One day, the line breaks off, there's a clear split and he wonders if all is well. He follows the line back to you, and finds out that you've been spending a good amount of time with someone else. Someone who you smile at very brightly, and someone who is interested in getting to know you. What's he to do? This was his doing. So why does he feel like coming over and snatching you away?

Imagining characters like Diluc, Neuvillette and Wriothesley, astounded but somewhat pleasantly surprised by the discovery. He neither rejects you nor accepts you, but feels a sense of responsibility over you just because of the connection made. But because they have their own things to be busy with, they don't exactly actively seek you out or have the time to check in frequently. Perhaps it's a monthly thing, following the line and looking for you. There's a relationship that looks like the beginnings of friendship. A little awkward, asking questions and fumbling for more questions to ask. Still, something builds, and just when the ice is about to break between the two of you, he follows the line...and somehow ends up out in the wild. Your vision is buried next to a tree, for a moment he's struck with panic that he would find your body buried, but judging from how the red line was still intact, you were most likely safe somewhere... however, he would never see you anymore, nor know the reason why you decided to hide. All of a sudden he wished that he had more time. He doesn't know whether this situation was comforting or concerning. He has you in the palm of his hand, but never close enough to fill the empty gap.

Imagining characters like Zhongli, Dainsleif and Tartaglia, who, despite their appearances is instantly intrigued by the connection. They don't need the additional power, but they keep the connection anyway because they partly feel that destiny is something you can't change. The closeness between you two easily grows and here is when you first approach him with a favor.

"Can you help me with something?"

"Of course. Would tomorrow be a good time?"

There's a bit of a pause on your side. "Tomorrow..." and its as if you look up at him with more sparkle in your eyes than usual. "...Yeah. That'll work. Thank you," the way you say thank you is so sincere and loving it almost brings him to a joy he hadn't felt in a long time.

He woke the next day. The connecting red line was nowhere to be found.

[starillusion13]

Hi! Your fics are so good! specially the ot8xreader fic 💖💖💖

Can i also request ot8xreader, you suddenly disappeared and they thought you ran away (with their money and jewelries) and betrayef them but in reality one of their female employees leads you to nowhere and tried to kill you (because she is jealous and wants the boys for herself) she make it looks like you ran away to make the boys mad at you but you are laying in hospital bed comatose for months. one of boys/or member of the mafia saw you in hospital when they tried to smuggle medical equipments and report it to ateez.

I hope it make sense 😅 Thank you

You are our Home

Pairing: Mafia! Ateez x f!reader

Genre: Angst, Mafia, Fluff

W.C: 8.2k

Warnings: arguments, regret, trust issues, cheating(?), hints of torture, mention of cuts and wounds(just the pain not detailed), mention of hospital and mafia business and deals, traumas and betrayals, comatose, stroke, nausea, scared, crying, lies. A lot shit is going on in the fic.

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: Thanks for reading and reblogging. I appreciate all of your reviews and feel free to text me if you want. Spread love to others, not hate. I don’t know what’s up to with the requests coz all are Angst at this point. But I have included fluff here. Clap your hands👏.

“Are you sure she is not home?”

“Seonghwa, I have gone there myself to check the whole place. Even few of her things are missing. Something is not setting right here.” Hongjoong’s impatient voice echoed through the speaker in the room. The members round the table were all attentive to the conversation between the two older ones. “Yeosang is tracking her id but he couldn’t find anything important. And what about San? Did he come back?”

Hearing the question, Seonghwa looked towards Wooyoung who shook his head and the older one sighed before delivering the message to their leader on call. Before hanging up the call, he informed the three members to come back to their office for further discussion about you. They last heard your voice yesterday evening when you were asking them if they would return yesterday or the next day. They didn’t know that the next day, instead of finding you waiting for them at the parking lot, they will be greeted to an empty cabin.

Usually, whenever they go to overseas missions, you pass on it because you intend to maintain all the procedures in the office and home. They respect your thoughts and opinions a lot so they never said anything on those way of thinking. Just like other trips, they bid goodbye to you and they went off to the designated country. When they reached there, you had a video call with them and they assured you that they would return soon—one month would pass in a blink. But maybe something went wrong. With the passing of days, you became distant with them, not picking up their calls or maybe just leaving a short text message ‘I’m busy’ and your close employee friend, Amy supported your side, telling them that the company had some issues ongoing with money and she also sent them all the details where it was always your duty to do it. Generally, they didn’t mind but they were worried for you overworking yourself so they told Amy to look after you. She assured them that she would be always by your side and would manage to do the most of the works.

Today, it was their day of return and last evening hearing your voice over the call made them impatient to come back home soon. They wanted to talk to you a lot but somehow you were not in a mood to hold a long conversation with them and so they didn’t ask you anything much. It was okay because they knew very next moment you will be in their arms and then they will keep you away from workloads for a while. But who knew, you won’t be anywhere in their surroundings.

San slammed the door open and glared at the ones present inside the room. The one who was sitting near the door rolled his eyes, knowing his over-dramatic acts like usual but when he caught his gaze, he could see the fire in his eyes.

Seonghwa raised his brow from the end of the table, “What happened, San?” Wooyoung and Mingi close to him were also watching San shuffling his hairs in anger and threw the glass from the table beside Jongho, who was already annoyed with him from earlier.

“Where is Hongjoong?”

Wooyoung was quick to reply, “He was on a call with us almost an hour back. They went to our home and then they will stop by the store to pick up some packages. They will be back soon.” Mingi nodded and went back to check some important news, displaying on his phone screen.

“Who else has the access to the shared account?”

“What do you mean by that, San? You know we don’t use that account and it’s only get handled by y/n. after she returns, you can ask her about it if it has any problem.” Seonghwa said it calmly but he could see the impatient and a flick of rage in the man’s eyes. San again picked up a glass but got stopped by Jongho, “don’t throw it again.”

They glared at each other before gulping down the water and he turned towards the oldest one.

“did she tell anything about transacting large amount of money? You know the account is empty as well as the spare account doesn’t have any money. The locker with the expensive jewels in her cabin is also empty. Why does she need so much of money all of a sudden?”

Everyone was shocked on hearing him. You needed money and for what? Nobody had any sort of hint that maybe you were going through some rough days, they would have consulted things with you. They would have tried to make you relax but no—you kept everything to yourself and didn’t tell anything to them. You were in some trouble and the thought itching their mind to ask you about it.

“her phone is still switched off.” Jongho sighed and sat on the couch beside Mingi who glanced at the clock.

San sat beside Wooyoung, “What’s even going on? There is no news of her whereabouts. She is not picking up her calls and now all these moneys and jewelleries are missing. I want her to explain me everything right now.”

“San, calm down. I am sure she has her own reasons for this.”

“And when do you think will she return, Mingi? Are you sure we are just going to sit and wait for her?”

Before the other could say anything, the door slammed open and Hongjoong entered furiously with Yeosang and Yunho trailing behind him. Neither of them appeared any less frustrated than the leader. Wooyoung was still staring at the door until it got closed by Yunho. He sighed and looked away—he thought you might enter the room with them and then would surprise them with a silly joke and the rest of the day will end up with you getting scolded but in the end you knew it was because they care for you.

Where are you?

“What’s the news, Yeosang?”

Hongjoong sat on his chair and ruffled his hairs, Seonghwa patted his back and looked towards the hacker who was being asked a question by the youngest.

“Nothing Jongho. We can’t find her anywhere. It’s still showing her last location was at the A.T.M and we checked the C.C.T.V but she was pretty normal when entering it and exiting the stall. I don’t why was she there-“

“to withdraw all the moneys from her shared account and the private one.”

Hongjoong raised his brows at San, “why do you think so?”

“Amy showed me all the past transactions from her side. She might not have withdraw all the money in person but has transferred to some other accounts.” He signalled Yeosang to open his laptop and the one was quick in action, “Can you search the accounts that are connected with hers where the money got transferred?”

Yunho scanned the room, “but why did she need such large amount of money? I am pretty sure she would have told one of us if she was in trouble.”

Seonghwa nodded and walked towards the wide large glass window and stared at the city. He was trying to find your location in the chaos of the city, his eyes were roaming everywhere as if he could get a glimpse of you. He was behaving like a lost boy desperate for you to hug him. Maybe he was a the second in command after the most feared mafia leader, Hongjooong--- in the end it’s you with whom they are the real persons, they can be themselves. Tears flowed down his eyes and he didn’t notice that Wooyoung was standing behind him and suddenly patted his back. He himself was fighting the urge not to break down.

Hongjoong glanced at them across the room and sighed.

Mingi put down his phone and the typing of the keyboard was heard along with some frustrated groans. Jongho spoke up, “San told us that the jewelleries are also missing from her lockers.”

“What? Even her expensive items from her room were also missing.” Hongjoong was surprised that you were missing for so many hours and then all those money and other expensive items were missing too.

Yeosang shut his laptop with a groan and glared at the device. San beside him asked what happened but the news they got was not what they were expecting.

“She has been transferring money for last 6 months and for the last one month, she has spent money on some expensive trips and buying properties. The two accounts where the moneys are being transferred are highly protected with firewalls. I can’t access to it. It only seems like it’s been handled and protected by hackers from other mafia groups.”

Mingi furrowed his brows, “mafia groups? Why will she be transferring money to other mafias?”

Hongjoong pocked his cheek with the tongue, “she doesn’t usually spend such amount of money at once. And according to her schedule, she was pretty much busy with her work-loads.”

“yeah, Amy was always the one asking us if we needed any kind of help and giving us updates on her because she was busy with some events outdoor. Can you give me her schedule for once?”

Yeosang nodded and searched for the schedules Amy sent him and delivered it to Yunho who was quick to open it and read the routines. His creased eyebrows got noticed by Hongjoong, “what happened, Yunho?”

The man shook his head before turning the laptop from Yeosang towards him from across the table and quickly typed something. Everyone was watching his actions and Jongho was peeking at the screen from beside him, “why are you searching these companies?”

Hongjoong raised his hand to let him do his work. After a couple of minutes, Yunho clenched his jaw and shut the screen before turning towards the leader, “I was right.”

“what?”

“these companies: first FACT CHECK enterprise didn’t have any events because they were overseas with us, next ORANGE FATE didn’t held any events for last few weeks and SEVENTEEN has no updates. This only means she didn’t have anything according to her schedules and some same schedules are repeated again and again. Without getting anything solved, everything is appearing to be more puzzled.”

Jongho patted Yunho’s back and turned towards the leader, “we should call Amy and ask her.” The leader nodded and Mingi quickly dialled her number to ask her come to their room. Seonghwa and Wooyoung also returned to their places and waited for her.

As soon as Amy got the call, she skipped towards the room and entered the door with a worried expression. The boys looked at her and noticed her worriedness but Hongjoong asked her not to panic and let her sit on the chair beside Yeosang where you were supposed to sit in other times.

She sat on your chair.

She smirked to herself. Second step achieved, including her in the meetings. First step was already going pretty well when they were calling from overseas to know the daily updates of their place from her---apparently you were busy.

Sitting down slowly, she clasped her hands and Yunho noticed her heavy breaths. They all turned towards the leader when he spoke up, “where were you all these days?”

She bit her lips and tugged her hair behind her ear. She nervously glanced at everyone when Jongho offered her a glass of water. She thanked him and quickly gulped it down, taking few breaths she proceeded, “I-I was working here in the office and then keeping you all updated.”

“where was she? You were not with her?”

“y-yeah I was with her but only when she was inside the building. She was always busy outside.”

“where did she go?”

“the events. I don’t know anything in details because everyday she was late to office, complaining that how tired she is and then going out frustrated. Trust me, I thought you all should know about it because why she will tell me anything.”

“do you know why she needed money? Was she in trouble?”

She paused before glancing at them and then looked down, “n-no. I don’t know. If this was known by me. I would have told you all about it.” She started sobbing and looked up, “I am worried for her. I hope you all find her soon and I will get my friend back.”

Yeosang patted her back and everyone felt bad seeing her cry because she was really close with you and you enjoyed her company so much that they could feel her loneliness and concern when you were missing. She excused herself and Jongho went with her because they didn’t want others to know about the situation yet and she needed someone by her side because of her being oversensitive.

.

.

.

The next two weeks they had done everything possible to reach your location but you were nowhere as if your presence was vanished from the universe. There were no sign of kidnapping because there was no call from any mafia groups, no threats from any rivals and everything was normal and in place without you. It seemed like you never existed but yeah, the employees started asking about your absence and that led to them getting hold of the reality. The news was quick to spread everywhere, to every corner of the city.

Amy became closer to them and she was handling all your works. Them consulting few things with her, of course it was a great achievement for her. At some point, some members were losing hope to find you and becoming reckless. The leader was having a hard time in controlling them but he knew the emotions and conditions of his family because he was on the same boat.

With the passing of days, the chances of getting you back was disappearing and one more thing they were noticing, the strange behaviour of Amy. She was often seen zoning out and flinching to sudden people. They realised she was very traumatized with your disappearance. But a sudden parcel flipped everything upside-down.

Amy was sitting down with the parcel in front of her on the table and them scattered all around the room. Some were in disbelief and some were furious. She was crying and with shaky hands holding and looking at the things which they found out from the parcel.

The leader was hovering on her from the side and glaring, “Amy, What are you hiding from us? Tell me now before I lose my patience.”

She kept quiet and staring at the pictures. You were laughing with a boy, receiving gifts from him, partying at a club with him and kissing and also, you were on a trip for a week with him. It was definitely you, there was no editing and the details were pointing out that you were really not present at home or at office on those days and it only made it clear that there was lot going on behind their back.

“Amy! Speak up!”

She flinched and wiped the tears.

“she was meeting this boy everyday.”

The boy was familiar to them, Lee Heesung from Orange Fate Limited. They often had meetings and events with them. They were not on a term of rivals but were on an agreement of allies because of their head departments.

Seonghwa said darkly, “Continue.” San clenched his fist with every words coming from her mouth.

“she told me not to say you all anything that she was……she was cheating behind you all. She was with you because you all are too naïve that you trust her so much. She threatened me that she would kill me if I go against her. I couldn’t do anything because you all would have never trusted me but I tried to tell you so many times. I am only explaining everything today because its been a month that she has gone missing. But actually, she was planning to run away for a while.” She started weeping and Mingi comforted her. He was hesitant to be so close to her but why he should feel guilty when you didn’t think twice before doing such a thing to them.

They were sick worried for you only to get a parcel, maybe from their ally base that you were with their leader all these times. Yunho scoffed hearing the explanation and Jongho glanced at him before sighing and switched on his lock screen where he was hugging you from behind and both smiling at Yeosang who was behind the camera clicking the picture. A tear drop fell on the screen, just above your face.

He hated himself for missing you.

Mingi took her outside because she was scared and blabbering nonsense and was convincing them that she would bring you back and make you apologize. She explained everything how you were not busy due to workload but because you were going out with your boyfriend. The rage was building inside them with the thought that what more you had done with him other than kissing behind their back. All these past months when you were intimated with them, actually you were just using them as a stress reliever and maybe you were complaining about them to Heesung when you were making love with him.

Yeosang curled his fingers, nails scratching the leather of the chair’s armrest.

Woooyung asked his leader, “Are we going to bring her back? We going to-“

“We are going nowhere. She is not our concern anymore. If she chose to go away, to find love in someone else then let it be.” San growled.

Wooyoung shook his head and with pleading eyes he stared at the leader. He wanted to hear his thoughts and he was sure he won’t agree with San but he was wrong.

“No more discussion on y/n. she was not missing but enjoying her life.” He scoffed, “I wanted to believe that these all are wrong but no. it had to be true. Why had it to be true? She betrayed us. She played with out trust. There is nothing to keep up with this conversation.”

He leaned back into his chair and ordered everyone to leave. They were hesitant to leave because each one of them were sure that if they went off to their individual ways, they would end up doing something worse. But why should they harm themselves? It was you who betrayed them and then ended up breaking their hearts.

If someone had to regret, IT’s You.

Seonghwa halted at the door and looked back towards the leader who was glaring at your picture on the wall, “are you sure we are not going to get her?”

“Never. We are not going to trust her again. Let’s pretend we never met her. And Leave.”

.

.

.

Days went on and turned into months and they all were emotionless as if they only knew their missions and going back home, commanding others and then going back to their own life. No extra conversation with anyone. They even became distant among themselves and Amy was enjoying this a lot because afterall she was the who was spending most of the times with them, delivering the messages and information to them and their individual opinions to each other via her.

Jongho knocked at the leader’s bedroom door. It was noon and none of them went to office building, only Seonghwa went for an hour to check the updates and returned early. Everybody was at home but in their individual room, Jongho glanced at the door between Yunho and Wooyoung’s room. It was locked. In other times, he would often find music blasting from your room and then finding you dancing like a maniac.

“what do you need?”

“the medical kit is empty and I need to treat Yeosang’s wound from yesterday.”

“the ones in the cabinets in the upper rack?”

“nothing.”

Hongjoong sighed and pull off a jacket before exiting his room and signalled him to follow.

“where are we going?”

He stopped and glared, “of course to the base hospital. I definitely know other hospitals will freak out seeing us.” Jongho nodded to his statement and followed him.

Arriving to the hospital, they straight way went to the cabin where its pretty usual for them to appear often.

"Hongjoong?" The said man stopped in his track on hearing someone called him.

It was their rival gang NCT’s member standing in front of him. They never had anything against each other but they were allies with someone who was apparently their enemy.

"Mark. What are you doing here?" Jongho asked in a monotone voice to which the boy before him licked his lips.

"Dude don't think I'm here for any sort of mission. I work here as a part time worker like my leader forced us to keep a normal citizen profile as well, might help us in some ways."

"Why are you saying all these to us? I'm sure your leader won't be happy to see you being friendly with us." Hongjoong smirked.

Mark nodded and glanced at his surroundings expression turning towards them, "I didn't know y/n was in relationship with you all."

"What are you trying to say?"Jongho inquired him and he sighed.

"Hongjoong I heard that you guys were searching y/n but I didn't know how to reach to you guys because my leader strictly told me not to contact any one of you."

"What are you upto?"

"Do you know what happened to her?"

Hongjoong scoffed and glared at him, "don't interfere in our matters. It's all over between us and her so I would like you to get the fuck out of my way."

"So you trusted some bitch?" now it's Mark who was glaring.

"What do you mean?"

Mark held his wrist and dragged him towards a room. "what are you doing?"

"Please come with me. It's for your own sake."

Both of them hesitantly followed him and when he opened the door, they were greeted by the worst view. Their breathing stopped for a moment, they froze with the time. It felt like they were dreaming and oblivious to himself, Jongho stepped forward towards the bed.

IT’s You.

You were sleeping peacefully on the bed.

"What happened to her?" Hongjoong was holding back his tears and clenched his fist. Tears welped in his eyes. He was shocked to see you lying in front of him on a hospital bed with a white sheet covering your body and you were connected to the machines beside you. His eyes followed the bandages wrapped in different places which were visible to his eyes. He didn’t want to think anymore about it. He was clenching his fist that all these months he blamed you and thought that you betrayed them was just to find you in the hospital.

Did Heesung hurt you?

“She is comatose for last few months.” Mark stated, eyes fixed on you.

Hongjoong was glaring at you. Atleast at this moment he thought had it better if you were somewhere enjoying your life rather than being in coma.

Jongho who was kneeling beside your bed caressed your hand, “Why? Why is she in this condition?”

“That day when I was returning from the mission, she stumbled in front of my car. Dude she is not here because of that, I was not driving. Me and my friend were just chatting by the side of the road when she came to us running frantically. She was so scared and covered in blood.” Mark licked his lips and shook his head when he remembered the day.

“who are you? Why did you help her?” the leader asked the question but didn’t glance to his direction.

“I know it’s weird but we are childhood friends. After I joined the mafia gang and for the sake of my leader, I had to keep distance with her so that she might not get in trouble with this dark life but somehow she ended up with you all.” He sadly chuckled.

He continued, “I searched about her when I brought her to the hospital. I found out that she was related to you all and the first thought that came to my mind was that you did this to her. But then when I found that you all are searching for her, I was confused for a while but then gradually came to know the truth. Somebody has tortured her and her body was lacking nutrients and due to the deficiency of iron, she got a stroke.”

“torture? Who did this?” the leader was losing his patient with each word coming out his mouth.

“when I brought her here, she was conscious for few days. Yeah, I strictly told others that they should not let anyone to know about her and Johnny is her doctor. She was repeating some things like ‘Amy please don’t do this’  ‘I want to go home’  ‘help me’  ‘I will go away but please don’t hurt me’. according to the reports she is in vegetative state right now, she got a stroke when one day she was thrashing around things.”

A ring interrupted their conversation. Hongjoong was lost with your view and the words from Mark were sinking inside him. He was still processing that you were in front of him and on top of that, you were in a miserable state.

Somebody tortured you? Amy?

Mark broke his trance and urged him to pick up the call.

“where are you? We need to treat the wound and there is nothing in here.”

“Seonghwa, come to the base hospital and bring others too.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just do what I said. You will know when you reach here.”

“I think hearing some familiar voices or maybe something that can trigger the stimuli can bring her back to senses so I hope for the best. She is attentive to some responses and you all are my last hope.”

Mark patted his back and excused himself. He ordered some guards outside the door not to allow anyone inside the room except few members whom he will be sending soon.

Hongjoong stepped forward and with slow steps, he sat beside your bed. His shaky hands caressed your head, tears fell on you when he planted a kiss on your forehead. Jongho was still holding your hand on the other side and was watching your slow breathings.

“y/n……please wake up.” Hongjoong’s voice cracked and he didn’t know what to say anymore. He was angry, upset, hurt and moreover, he was dying inside. He couldn’t afford to see you in that condition.

They waited for a while. They were whispering so many things and tears flowing down their eyes continuously. They were lost after seeing your condition. The leader was confused that why someone had to treat you in this way when you did nothing in the first place. He was feeling to rip off the machines from you so that he could hug you and shield you from all the negativities that might be lingering around you.

The door slammed open and several footsteps could be heard entering the room when suddenly all the sounds paused.

“y/n?” Wooyoung was quick to run towards your sleeping figure, he pushed aside his leader and hugged your body, resting himself on top of you. He was excited but also confused after seeing you in that condition.

 You were laying pale and fragile upon a sterile hospital bed. Concern etched deep lines of worry upon their faces as they gathered around you, their hearts heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Seonghwa glanced at you and then towards Hongjoong who was not even taking off his eyes from you. “what is this Hongjoong? Why is she here?”

He didn’t reply and when he turned towards Jongho, he stood up to give space to Mingi so that he could stand beside your bed. The youngest was not willing to leave your hand but still others needed to see you as well so he stepped towards Seonghwa, “she is in coma for last few months. Somebody had kept her locked up and tortured her.”

“what?” San glared at him. “what are you saying, Jongho? Who?”

“I don’t know-“

“Amy.” Hongjoong stated the name blankly and stared at Seonghwa. “Are you sure?”

“she was scared of her before she went into coma so that only proves she has something to do with her.”

Wooyoung’s grip tightened around you. Yeosang was beside him who was trying to comfort him but also wishing for you to wake up. He couldn’t believe his eyes that you were in front of him. He could feel your skin against his fingertips. Your faint breathing could be heard and it was the only hope, the only belief that you were with him, with them.

Yeosang caressed your hand and pressed a soft kiss, “y/n, look we are here. Wake up. We all are here to protect you. No one can hurt you. Please look at me, y/n .” he started sobbing and buried his face into the hold where your fingers were getting wet with his tears.

Mingi caressed your head, “y/n… we are here to take you home, doll. Please open your eyes. Try to hear my voice I am here.”

Wooyoung traced his fingers over the bandages and the healing cuts on your face. The beautiful face, the soft skin which always felt amazing against his and he never missed a place to kiss every inch of it. Now its all covered with cuts and bandages. “baby please wake up. Please look at me, talk to me.”

Three of them were crying surrounding you and the rest of them closely behind them were hoping to see your eyes fluttering open and to tell them what you went through. They were cursing themselves for once believing that you left and betrayed them.

They were hating themselves for believing that.

Yeosang pulled back Wooyoung and both of them sat on the couch to the side, the younger one was sobbing in his hold. Hongjoong nodded towards Seonghwa and the older one sat on the stool beside your head and held your hand, the leader stood behind him.

“y/n…can you hear me? Love we are all here for you. Look we found you.” Seonghwa gulped the lump, smiled sadly and continued, “We will get through this together. You need to wake up for me.” Hongjoong placed a hand on his shoulder to encourage him to keep going.

San moved forward, he was observing things from a distance and was silently praying all the Almighty to wake you up, to do a miracle so that he could see your eyes and smile again. Mingi stepped back to give him space and he kneeled beside you and took your hand in his trembling ones, the needles from the iv-drip and other machines piercing your skin and he was holding back the urge to rip that off because it might be hurting you. “Y/n……”

“I can't bear to see you like this. Please, wake up...please…I love you so much" he mumbled and planted a kiss on the knuckles.

“you need to see yourself. You are strong enough to come all these ways alone. You can fight more. You are no more alone, we are here for you.” Seonghwa pronounced every word distinctly so that you could hear them, understand him and atleast process slowly that you were not alone but surrounded by your loved ones. Your family.

Jongho slowly said to them, “Mark told us if we trigger a memory then she might wake up. She is responsive to some stimuli earlier. I don’t know what to do but please do something and wake her up. If not then she will be under more risk.”

“No! she won’t.” Wooyoung shouted and again stood beside you, “y/n, don’t give up on us like this. You cant leave us. I wont be able to live if I lose you. Wake up please.”

Yeosang stood beside him, voice cracking “ you are our heart y/n. just tell me what you need, I will do anything for you but don’t leave me please.”

Hongjoong gulped, “Y/n…remember the day we met, those happy moments which we cherish. I still think about them everyday even after the day you were missing. Please we have so much to do in our life. We love you.”

Mingi’s voice wavered, “We'll be here for you every step of the way, I'll fight this battle with you, y/n. Together, as one...nine makes one family.”

Your index finger moved a little in San’s hold. He was surprised, his breath hitched. He looked towards everyone but others gave him a confused look. he was smiling and holding your hand tightly and glancing between you and them.

“guys she can hear us. Her finger is moving.” His gaze landed on the last one who haven’t said anything after they had arrived. He was fuming but crying and San knew that he could do anything if he was quiet. “Yunho…”

The sterile white walls of the hospital room surrounded him, the heavy air which he breathing was filled with different emotions. But the only emotion that was tugging in every corner was the faint ray of hope.

Hope for you to wake up.

Hearing his name, slow and heavy steps took him to your side. Seonghwa who was still whispering some old happy memories paused and moved back a bit. Yunho stared at your face. The memory of you smiling at him and laughing at his jokes. You acting like a baby and always promising that he would protect you like your big saviour. But he didn’t. he broke his promise. He left you alone to fight and then you were fighting with your death.

He will kill every person who did this with you.

“Y/n, You're my reason to keep going. I…we won't let you go. Stay with me. I love you, Pearl.”

The familiar voices echoing inside your head.

Their voices.

Your family.

Nine makes one family.

You clutched San’s hand but quickly loosened the grip. You repeated the action. Their eyes not leaving a second of your form. Your dry lips parted slightly to seep through some air. The oxygen mask felt like suffocating the air.

Slowly, like tendrils of fog dissipating under the morning sun, consciousness began to seep back into your mind.

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the weight of slumber, as you struggled to orient yourself to the surroundings. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor echoed in their ears, a steady cadence that anchored all to the present moment.

With a groan, you attempted to shift your body, the sensation of stiffness and lethargy weighing you down like an anchor. Your limbs felt foreign, disconnected from the mind, as if you were a marionette being manipulated by invisible strings. Few deep cuts and wounds stinged, you whimpered at the pain.

As your vision cleared, you became aware of the figures standing by your bedside, silhouettes bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights. their faces had masks of concern as they observed your awakening. You couldn’t place the names with the faces.

Who are they? Do you know them? Why are you here? Wait…where are you?

You twisted your neck to every direction, an air of suffocation engulfing you and the memory of being locked up, bloods, wounds, cut and crying flashed in front of your eyes.

“baby…” Seonghwa’s voice made you look at him. Your eyes were filled with horror. They will hurt you again. An adrenaline hit you which made you feel to run away and save yourself. You were trapped and you needed to get out. You got rid of the oxygen mask.

“no…no…please don’t kill me…I..” you pushed yourself up, groaning because you felt your lethargic body was heavy with tons of weight, you wanted to move but still couldn’t. you started crying and retreated your hand back when you felt someone was holding it. San left your hand when he saw fear in your eyes. You were confused, scared and tired but still attempted to make a run.

Wooyoung’s voice choked with emotion, “baby you are awake…”  you shook your head and  twisted your body but Yunho was quick to make you still and you groaned when the wound in your waist sent a wave of pain throughout your body.

“please…leave me…I want to go home please…” you were crying and wiggling weakly under his hold.

Yunho was standind straight and engulfing your upper body tightly in his hold to let you cry and shout but he couldn’t let you go away when surprisingly he got you back from the edge of death, “shh shhh…Y/n, don’t cry please. I am here. No one is going to hurt you.”

Seonghwa patted your head, “we are going to take you home.”

“no…no…they  they are waiting for me. Joong…I want to go to him…Hwa…Woo…please please.”

“baby, I am Woo. I’m right here.” You glanced at him. a memory of you fooling around and laughing with him flashed in front of him.

You shook your head and Yunho pushed your head against his chest and placed a kiss on top, “it’s me, Yunho. Love calm down.”

When you didn’t stop shaking, he held your face and made you look into his eyes, he was holding back his tears and still smiled at you, “I am here. Right in front of you. You are safe with me. Your Yuyu is with you.”

You stared at him and your actions slowed down. He shifted and sat on the edge and pulled you closer. “Yunho…” hearing his name from your mouth, he pulled you closer and caressed your sides, lulling you to calm down.

“yes, it’s me. we all are here.”

San placed himself on the other side edge of the bed to caress your back. Even though, they were sad seeing you vulnerable but somehow a relief settled inside them that you were awake. You were with them.

“Calm down for me. will you?”

Hearing his soothing voice, you clutched his shirt. Your tears were soaking it but he didn’t care about that, he just wanted you to not feel scared of them.

They knew it was a burden for you to take in your surrounding after waking up from coma after months. You took deep breaths and he could feel your trembling body calming down.

“Y/n. How are you feeling?” Hongjoong’s concerned voice echoed in the air, reaching your ears. Several nights you spent calling out his name, hoping for him to save you but you were alone. Your mind slowly and slowly settling down and you got a grip of your current situation.

You looked down to see yourself wrapped in a hospital gown.

You were in hospital.

“paining. It’s paining everywhere.” You mumbled and stared at Hongjoong. He stepped forward and softly cupped your face, giving you a warm smile.

“it will go away. You will be fine soon.” He kissed your forehead. Seonghwa stood beside him with a bright smile, his presence itself was giving you a blanket of comfort adding to the warmth from Yunho was hugging you.

Hwa nodded and removed the strand of hairs from your face and tugged them neatly behind your ears, “my pretty baby. Do you need something?”

You moved your head up and down slowly, he urged you to speak, “I..I want water.” He didn’t waste a second, quickly turning on his heel, walked towards the table to get a glass of water. You felt your throat was burning dry and you coughed.

San patted your back, “its okay. Take it slow. You are fine.”

Hongjoong wiped your eyes, “don’t cry, baby. We are here for you. Always.”

Wooyoung sat beside your legs and ran his hands up and down above the blanket. Even though he couldn’t feel your skin against his but he knew you were fine and with him.

You stared at him when Seonghwa gave you the glass, you gulped the water hastily. You coughed when you choked. Yunho and Seonghwa softly scolded you not to rush. Your gaze returned towards Wooyoung, you extended your hand and he intertwined his fingers with yours. Tears fell from your eyes. “you are really here...”

“Yes I am. For you.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong moved aside to let Mingi and Yeosang in front of your view. They were trying their best to appear happy but they knew with just a blink, you would see them all breaking down. Mingi kissed your nose and gave you a tight hug, “do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. I want to…go home.” You turned towards Yunho, “please take me home. I don’t want to stay here.” He nodded and wiped your eyes, “shh…we will go okay. We are waiting for the doctor to allow the discharge for you.”

Yeosang cupped your face to bring your attention on him, “we are going to watch movies and we will play tag game. How about that?”

You smiled and their heart melted seeing the small curled up lips, “yes. I would love that but I’m feeling so weak.”

Wooyoung chimed in, “You have to eat a lot to become strong and then we will watch movies and discuss your favorite things. You have to show us your favorite stories.”

Hongjoong chuckled, “You cant make her do that even now. She will still run after you because she always do her best to hide the things she read. But I’m curious too.”

Mingi raised his brows and nodded, “those are in English so even if I get a hold of it. I don’t know how to read them.”

Jongho laughed lightly, “deliver them to me. I will let you know about it.”

Seonghwa shook his head and laughed. The atmosphere was becoming lighter than before and they were glad that you were smiling with them. Jongho kissed your nose, “you need to walk more or you will feel more weak. But you should rest until the wounds are getting better.”

You nodded.

You were always an independent and hardworking woman and that’s how they got attracted to you. Every on the point decisions and single handedly and actively managing lots of works was never a small deal for anyone but they saw you doing it and they were impressed. When you got the offer to join the company, you didn’t know it belonged to a mafia base but what to do, when they told you about it, you were already in love with them. They were always honest with you and respected and even treated you like a queen. Their queen.

 But today, seeing you so weak and vulnerable like a baby was breaking their heart into million pieces. You were hurt, you were scared and traumatized.

A groan escaped your lips when you shifted in your place and Yeosang made you still and Yunho helping you to sit properly, leaning your back to his chest. You turned towards San who was quite all these moments. He was still sitting on the bed close to you and rubbing his hands up and down your body. He wanted to feel you, to make himself belief that he was not dreaming but it’s the reality.

Yeosang with concerned eyes looked towards you and asked, “Are you okay? Where is it hurting?”

San urged you to speak, “tell us baby. Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

Yeosang, the medic of the group knew he had to take care of you more after returning back home. Yunho massaged your side and it did wonder to relieve some tensions.

Your gaze fell on San’s hand, it was bandaged. Your eyes went wide and you looked towards others to scan them. Why are they hurt? You couldn’t find anything visible on Wooyoung, not even on Jongho but when you watched Yeosang fishing his hand inside the jacket’s pocket. You quickly grabbed it and caressed the bandaged palm. You didn’t notice it earlier.

“Why are you hurt? What happened?”

He shook his head, “nothing major.”

Your other hand grabbed San’s wounded one, “does it hurt?”

“no baby. Calm down. Getting hurt during missions is pretty normal.”

“don’t normalize these things. I don’t want you all to get hurt.” San hugged your side. “I’m sorry…”

“why?” his whisper fanned your ears, tickling you lightly.

Hongjoong frowned, “why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong, y/n.”

“but I am here…”

Wooyoung placed a finger on your lips, “don’t speak. That’s not your fault. You are safe and talking with us. That’s what we want right now.”

Seonghwa patted your head before announcing, “I am going to talk with her doctor…what was the name again?”

Jongho stated, “Johnny.”

“ah yes him. so Mingi and Jongho come along with me, we need to take some medical equipment as well.”

The two nodded and followed behind him before them sending smiles towards you. Your eyes followed them until they closed the door behind them.

“San…”

“hmm… tell me.”

“I don’t want to go to that office building. And you did got some pictures, right?”

Before he could reply Hongjoong interrupted, “no we are not going there anytime soon.” You nodded.

San furrowed his brows, “what pictures?”

“me and Heesung…”

Yunho pulled you closer if its even possible, “why? Why are you asking?”

“do you all trust that? I mean the pictures are real but…”

“but?” Hongjoong just needed some truth and the plannings he already made inside his head would be in action. “tell me y/n.”

“I was drugged and didn’t know what he did. Amy…she used me to get to get you all. She forced me to transfer money, to meet him, and so on. But trust me I didn’t want to do anything. I wanted you all. I wanted to go home. I still want to go far away with you all.”

“calm down, Y/n. we are not speaking about those things right now.” Yeosang shushed you and  Hongjoong clenched his jaw.

He is going to kill her. He is going to torture her till the day she dies of blood loss. He wants to rip her heart out. Does she even have one? He mentally scoffed. He caught Yunho and San staring at him. they both smirked when they saw the leader was fuming.

The leader showed his dirty smirk towards them. They knew the hell was going to break loose for someone.

Seonghwa called Yeosang and asked him to tell others to take you to the car because they got the permission to take you home as Yeosang could manage the rest. He removed the needles and you winced but he was quick to tape the wounds. Wooyoung held your side when you tried to stand up. You felt your head spinning and nauseous hit you. Hongjoong quickly brought a mug in front of your face to let you vomit and Yunho held your hairs in a ponytail and patting your back, encouraging you to take it easy and you will be okay. Yeosang wiped your mouth with wet tissues and San swept you off the ground.

“you are not walking anymore. You need to rest and your limbs are still too weak to make you stand strong even for a second.”

You didn’t argue because you yourself were aware of your condition. As soon as you all left the room, people moved aside seeing the mafia group carrying a girl in their arms. Some had sympathetic look and some with curiosity whispering to each other. You felt awkward under the gazes and you buried your face in his chest. His laugh vibrated in your face and you could hear others chuckled.

Wooyoung ruffled your hairs, “silly.”

Reaching the parking lot, the others were already there. The fresh air hit your face, feeling lively and Seonghwa came in front, “are you okay?”

“I want to stay outside. Please.” You were whining like a baby in san’s arms.

One by one they all entered the car and you were laying with your head resting on Seonghwa’s lap and legs placed over San’s thigh. You pout when they didn’t acknowledge your request. Jongho stared at you, “what happened?”

“I said I wanted to stay outside.”

“didn’t you want to go home?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. Yes, you wanted to return home.

Hongjoong laughed from the passenger seat and Yunho spoke up, “we are going to the beach in front of our house. We will have our lunch there and spend the evening there as well.”

Your eyes fluttered open, “really?”

“yes.” Mingi assured you and joked to make you laugh.

San stroked your legs, “you are our home, y/n. I love you.”

Even if you wanted to go to the house, your home.  It’s fine. Wherever they are, its your home.

They are your home.

“you guys are my home too. My world.”

[thanks for loving the ot8 fics anon <3. I hope you liked this one.]

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn [open!]

[beegomess]

Meeting you after the breaking up || Slytherin boys

Summary: Your relationship has come to an end, something that put you deeply down, avoiding everything and everyone as long as you could just to overcome your ex-boyfriend as soon as possible. Time has passed and you really seem to have overcome everything, he, however, believes he has done a great stupidity. Warnings: Just a little sad.

Requests are open!

Blaise Zabini

Everything seemed different now, as if the weight of the pain had finally decreased. When you and Blaise broke up, it seemed that full happiness would never be possible again. After all, his relationship had been the foundation of everything, the center of his life. But time, always relentless and mysterious, brought with it subtle changes, and the wound that once seemed unbearable was now just a scar that you had learned to carry with dignity.

Although your feelings for Blaise have not disappeared, nor have it turned into a grudge, that desperate need for him was no longer part of who you were. The beginning of the breakup was cruel, with the pain throbbing with every memory and the longing seeming unbearable. But, little by little, you learned to navigate through these emotions, until, suddenly, you felt... well.

In the month before the summer holidays, you skillfully avoided each other, almost as if you both knew that the simple act of seeing each other could reopen wounds still in healing. His gaze never found yours, and you kept your distance, building your new world without it.

During the holidays, you rediscovered yourself. He went out with friends, laughed at silly things and realized that life was taking its course. Maybe Blaise was right in the end. Maybe you weren't really made for each other as you imagined. And now, back at Hogwarts, you were there, sure of yourself, without worrying about whether he would notice your presence or not. That kind of thing didn't affect you anymore.

But Blaise couldn't say the same. Seeing you so serene and radiant, without a shadow of sadness, brought you conflicting feelings. Part of him rejoiced to see her move forward, but another part, darker, carried a growing regret. He began to question whether he had made the right choice.

Draco, sitting next to Blaise in class, noticed his friend's lost look, the attention he clearly did not devote to what was being said. Curious, he followed Blaise's gaze until he found him fixed on you, laughing next to his friend.

- Oh, so she's the one occupying your mind? - Draco commented with a provocative smile, seeing Blaise's expression close. - What is it? Are you already sorry? Just wait until the other boys start approaching her...

Malfoy let out a low laugh, but Blaise felt the blood boil just imagining such a scene. The simple idea of someone else approaching you was unbearable.

- Shut up. - Blaise replied between his teeth, unable to disguise the discomfort it caused him.

Draco Malfoy

He knew he was going to see her that night, he was prepared for that. What he didn't expect was to find her so quiet, completely oblivious to her presence at dinner. The vision of you, so serene, messed with him in a way that he was not prepared to admit.

In recent months, Draco had gone through a whirlwind of emotions and, in a moment of impulse, ended your relationship. For you, it was a shock at the time, an unexpected pain that seemed difficult to heal. However, over time, things began to fit together, and you finally reached a point where, although there was still love for him, you would no longer insist on something he himself did not believe he was able to maintain.

So, on that Christmas night, a date that always had a special place in your heart, you appeared next to your parents, radiant as always, radiating a beauty that made it seem that every detail of what you wore had been made exclusively for you.

Your smile illuminated the room, instantly attracting Draco's ocean eyes to you. He couldn't look away, even while you, unrelated to him, greeted other people around him.

- Aren't you going to talk to her? - Narcisa's soft voice, who always had a special affection for you from the beginning of her relationship with Draco, interrupted her thoughts. She noticed her son's fixation on you and decided to intervene with a slight smile and a question that brought him back to reality.

- Oh, yes, of course. At some point in the party, for sure. - Draco replied, a little clumsy, looking away at the glass of champagne in his hands, trying to hide the discomfort that grew inside him.

- Do you miss her? - The mother, always direct when she wanted something, was not intimidated by asking what she knew that was bothering her son. Draco, however, avoided answering, pretending not to hear the question. He knew the answer very well, but admitting to himself was a battle he was not ready to face that night.

Lorenzo Berkshire

The theater was crowded that night, as always happened in the traditional year-end ballet performances, which marked the beginning of the festivities for the most traditional families. The atmosphere was elegant and sophisticated, with the murmur of the conversations being muffled by the soft chords of the orchestra that began to tune its instruments. Lorenzo Berkshire, sitting next to his parents in the cabin reserved for the family, seemed quiet, but inside, a growing restlessness took over him. He knew you would be there, like every year, and no matter how much he had prepared for the inevitable encounter, nothing seemed to relieve the tension he felt.

Months earlier, Lorenzo had ended your relationship. It was a difficult decision, which at the time seemed to be the most rational. But as time passed, the certainty he had began to fall apart, and with every event his family attended, where he knew you would also be, the regret grew.

When the theater lights went out and the curtains opened, Lorenzo finally saw you. You were in a box on the other side of the theater, almost facing him. The distance, even with the twilight that dominated the environment, he noticed every detail: the brightness of the elegant dress you wore, the way your hair was delicately stuck, and the discreet smile that appeared when the music began to fill the environment. He could barely concentrate on the presentation, his eyes constantly deflecting to you, who seemed so close and, at the same time, so inaccessible.

― Will it continue like this all night, Enzo? ― The soft but authority-laden voice of Charlotte, his younger sister, took him out of the trance. She was sitting next to him, and looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Lorenzo disguised the discomfort, adjusting in the armchair.

― I don't know what you're talking about, Charlotte.

She let out a slight sigh, crossing her arms and casting a penetrating look at her.

― Of course you know. I saw how you were watching her. You haven't taken your eyes off her since the lights went out.

He looked away, focusing for a moment on the ballerina who performed a grand jeté on stage.

― It's not that simple, Charlotte.

Charlotte, always perceptive, leaned slightly towards her, keeping her tone of voice low so as not to disturb the other viewers.

― Maybe it's not simple, but staying here mulling about it doesn't help at all either. You still like her, Lorenzo, it's obvious. And, from what I see, she also looks different... distant, maybe. Maybe she misses you too?

Lorenzo frowned, feeling a twinge of irritation mixed with the weight of guilt. He knew Charlotte was trying to help, but his words only amplified the confusion inside him.

― Charlotte, you don't understand. There are things that can't be solved so easily.

She watched her brother for a moment, noticing the resistance in her eyes.

― I'm not saying it's easy, Lorenzo. But what if you keep waiting and lose the chance to reconcile? What do you have to lose?

His sister's insistence irritated him, and Lorenzo closed his eyes for a second, trying to control the discomfort that consumed him.

― I already said it's not simple. ― His voice came out firmer, almost sharp, while he kept his eyes fixed on the stage. ― It's not just going there and talking to her.

Charlotte raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, clearly realizing that she had pressed too much. She knew that Lorenzo needed time, but she also knew that he was hiding behind his own stubbornness.

Lorenzo didn't say anything else, he just gave a short nod, turning his attention to the presentation, although his mind was far from there. He knew that Charlotte had touched a sensitive point, and it irritated him more than he was willing to admit. As the ballet continued, he continued to watch you from afar, unable to decide whether or not to try to regain what he had lost, even if the simple idea of taking action made him uncomfortable.

Mattheo Riddle

Your relationship with Mattheo has always been a sensitive topic for you. The constant comings and goings gave the impression that everything could be just a bad phase, something that would eventually be solved. However, there came a time when you decided it was time to put an end to everything. When Mattheo announced that he wanted to finish, you made it clear that, this time, there would be no turn. He, as always, doubted the seriousness of your words, but this time you were determined.

His family, who never approved the relationship, practically celebrated the breakup. For them, Mattheo has always been a problem, and the prejudice for the fact that he is half-blood and does not have the wealth that his family valued only aggravated this vision. They often tried to push her to "good pedigree" boys, something that always irritated Mattheo deeply. Jealousy has always been a constant among you, but after the end, it seemed that this feeling had become even more difficult to deal with. Mattheo's anger at his family's behavior was only the trigger for something that was already worn out.

Months passed, and over time, you finally realized that the relationship with Mattheo was anything but healthy. It was then that you began to consider giving Lorenzo, the boy your mother loved, a chance. Initially, he thought he would be just one more, but to his surprise, Lorenzo was kind, interesting, someone who easily drew laughter from you, even if, deep down, his heart weighed every time he flirted with him.

It was in one of those moments, while you and Lorenzo enjoyed Saturday at Três Vassouras, that Mattheo saw you again, after so long. He was accompanied by Theodore and other friends, unconcernedly entering the scene, until Theodore, upon seeing you, stopped abruptly.

― Maybe we should go somewhere else... ― The boy suggested, almost in a whisper, turning to Mattheo with a worried expression.

― Why would we go? ― Mattheo replied, frowning when he noticed the tension in his friend's voice. ― What's going on, Theo?

Before Theo could make any excuse, Mattheo ignored his warning and advanced, looking around the bar until his eyes finally found you. There you were, laughing carelessly at something that Lorenzo had said, without noticing Mattheo's presence. The smile on his face, so natural and sincere, cut Mattheo like a knife. The shock and fury mixed inside him, feeding an anger that he could barely contain.

Without saying a word, Mattheo turned around, quickly leaving the Three Brooms. His friends followed him, all in silence, while the fury pulsed inside him, ready to explode at any moment. Every step away from the bar was a painful reminder of what he had missed - and that, perhaps, he would never have back.

Theodore Nott

His relationship with Theodore Nott has always been intense, but at the same time, marked by a depth that few understood. He had a peculiar way of showing affection, usually through subtle gestures and contained words, but that for you have always meant the world. However, this intensity also brought with it difficulties, especially the fact that Theo has difficulties in expressing his emotions openly. It was this emotional block that, in the end, wore out the relationship.

When you finished, Theo didn't try to stop you. He simply accepted, with that serenity that has always characterized him, as if he were waiting for it. And maybe it was. You felt a squeeze in your heart when you saw that he wouldn't fight for you, but you knew you needed to move on, even if it meant leaving without looking back.

After the end, you struggled to focus on yourself, to distance yourself from the shadow that the relationship with Theo had left. It was difficult, but little by little, you started to rebuild your world, to smile again, to feel pleasure in the little things. And it was during this process that you started going out with Adrian Pucey, a Slytherin boy known for his charm and skill in Quidditch. He wasn't the kind of person you imagined being, but Adrian managed to make you laugh and forget a little about things, something you didn't know you needed until that moment.

You two started to meet more often, and one day, you met Adrian in the Peacock Patio, one of the most beautiful places in Hogwarts, surrounded by old trees and fragrant flowers. The place, with its quiet and cozy atmosphere, was perfect for a casual encounter, and you sat on one of the benches, talking and laughing, while the light breeze shook the leaves around.

Without you noticing, Theo was passing by, coming back from a study session at the library. When he saw you next to Adrian, the world seemed to stop for a moment. Theo stood still, watching the scene with a dark look. Seeing you with someone else, laughing and looking so comfortable, caused a painful tightness in your chest, something he didn't expect to feel so intensely.

Not far from Theo, Draco Malfoy appeared, immediately noticing his friend's discomfort when following him with his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh, immediately understanding what was happening.

― Do you want to go for a walk? ― Draco suggested, trying to get Theo out of that uncomfortable situation.

― No, I'm fine. ― Theo replied, his voice low and loaded with conflicting emotions. He knew he should move away, that staying there would only do the worst things, but his feet seemed stuck to the ground.

― Look, it's not easy, I know. But staying here will only get worse, Theo. Come on, we can go to the Astronomy Tower or something. ― Draco insisted, his voice was serious, but with a touch of empathy.

Theo hesitated, his eyes still fixed on you. He knew Draco was right, but there was a part of him that couldn't move, as if he were waiting for a signal, anything that gave him a reason to believe that there was a chance for you to look back. But you were completely involved in the conversation with Adrian, the light and carefree laughter filling the air.

― Right. ― He finally gave in, his voice cold and restrained, forcing his feet to move. With one last look in his direction, he turned around, following Draco away from the courtyard, while trying to push to the bottom of his mind the whirlwind of emotions that was consuming him.

While walking, the silence between them was heavy, but Draco did not press. He knew that Theo needed time to process everything, and deep down, he hoped that his friend would find a way to deal with it without destroying himself inside. For Theo, however, the sight of you smiling with another had opened a wound that he was not sure how to heal.

Tom Riddle

The Hogwarts library was a place you've always loved. During the quiet nights, the bookshelves loaded with old books and the smell of aged parchment brought you a sense of peace and security. It was there, under the soft light of the candles, that you spent much of your time, especially after breaking up with Tom Riddle. Diving into the books was a way to forget what you two had been, or perhaps, to remember without the pain that accompanied it.

The relationship with Tom was an enigma that you were never able to solve completely. He was cold and always kept an emotional distance that left you with the feeling that he was never truly present. Still, there were times when you felt that something deeper could exist behind that impenetrable facade. It was this mystery, this insatiable curiosity, that held you to him for so long. But Tom's coldness ended up becoming unbearable, and when the decision to finish was made, he accepted with a calm that hurt more than any argument could have hurt.

Now, in the loneliness of the library, you followed your nightly routine. He leafed over a book, his thoughts wandering between the words and the memories he tried to leave behind. She was so absorbed that she did not notice the tall and slender figure that positioned herself in the shadows, a few meters away.

Tom Riddle has always been an observer, someone who analyzed everything around him with almost frightening precision. He had been there for longer than you imagined, just watching in silence. The dim light of the candles did not fully reach the place where he was, keeping him hidden, but his eyes shone with an unusual intensity as he watched you.

He hadn't come there by chance. In recent months, Tom had returned his thoughts to you more often than he would like to admit. It wasn't longing, he said to himself, but a persistent curiosity. The breakup meant nothing to him the moment it happened, but now, seeing you go on with your life without hesitation, dedicating yourself to studies as if he had never existed, you messed with something inside him that he could not name.

For some time, Tom stood still, his eyes following his every move. He knew he shouldn't care. This kind of attachment was useless, a weakness that he despised in others. Still, there he was, watching you with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

Finally, he decided to get closer, not to talk, but to feel his presence more closely. Every step he tood was silent, calculated, as if he feared that any noise could break the charm of the moment. When he was close enough to see every detail of his concentrated expression, Tom stopped. There was something about you, a serenity, a silent force that he had not noticed before.

You didn't notice your presence until you felt a slight change in the air, a shiver that ran through your spine. Raising your eyes from the book, you felt like you were being watched. And, for a brief moment, his gaze found his, hidden in the shadows. But in the blink of an eye, Tom had moved, disappearing between the shelves without a trace, like a ghost.

Even without seeing it, you felt the familiarity of that presence, and a discomfort that you thought you had overcome returned to your heart. The mystery that Tom represented was still there, no matter how far away you tried to get away. And that night, as he closed the book and left the library, you knew that he was also trying to understand something that, until then, he believed he was incapable of feeling.

___________________________

masterlist here

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[imloyaltoscoups]

club night | choi seungcheol

As you enter the club with Seungcheol by your side, the pulsating beats envelop you, igniting a rush of excitement. You exchange a knowing glance, both aware of the unspoken agreement to enjoy the night separately, free to mingle with your own friends.

You nod to each other before parting ways, disappearing into the crowd. Seungcheol's figure quickly blends into the vibrant sea of dancers, his easy charm drawing people towards him effortlessly.

You find yourself surrounded by your own circle of friends, laughter and chatter filling the air. Drinks flow freely, and the music pulls you into its rhythm, washing away any lingering inhibitions.

As you chat and sip your drink with your friends, you catch sight of Seungcheol across the room. Your gaze lingers as you notice him engaged in conversation with a girl, her laughter ringing out above the music. She leans in close, her body language unmistakably flirtatious.

You watch, intrigued yet oddly unsettled, as Seungcheol reciprocates her advances with a playful grin and a witty retort. Your stomach twists with an unexpected pang of bitterness, the casual nature of your relationship suddenly feeling uncomfortably real.

"Can you believe him?" you mutter to your friend, your voice tinged with a hint of resentment.

But just as you're about to turn away, Seungcheol's eyes flicker in your direction, catching you in the act. His smirk deepens as he holds your gaze, a silent challenge in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Looks like someone's not having as much fun as they thought," he teases, his voice barely audible over the music.

You swallow hard, feeling exposed under his penetrating stare. Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of indifference, you can't shake the sting of jealousy that courses through you. With a forced smile, you raise your glass in a mocking toast before turning back to your friends, determined to bury the unwelcome surge of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you.

As you take a gulp from your glass, a plan starts forming in your mind. You can play that game too. Your friend's invitation to accompany her to the bar station is the perfect opportunity to observe Seungcheol's next move. With feigned curiosity, you agree, your eyes never leaving his figure in the distance.

As you stand at the bar, deliberating over your choice of drink, a tall, handsome stranger sidles up beside you, his presence commanding attention. You steal a quick glance towards Seungcheol, noting the scene unfolding with the girl at his side, her touch lingering on his biceps as she leans in closer.

Feeling a surge of defiance, you grip your glass tightly, the cool surface a reassuring anchor in the midst of the chaos. You refuse to let Seungcheol's antics unsettle you, determined to hold your own in this impromptu game of cat and mouse.

The stranger turns to you, a charming smile playing at his lips as he engages you in conversation. Despite the distraction of Seungcheol's flirty interlude, you find yourself drawn to the stranger's magnetic presence, his confidence infectious.

But as the conversation progresses, you sense Seungcheol's eyes on you, his gaze unwavering even as the girl's touch inches closer to his lips. You hold his gaze, a silent challenge passing between you, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

With a subtle smirk, Seungcheol lifts his glass in a mocking toast just what you did a while ago, his eyes never leaving yours as the girl's fingers brush against his lips. It's a daring move, a silent declaration of intent that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

With a coy smile, you started to engage again in a conversation with the stranger beside you, matching his flirtatious banter with ease. You lean in closer, mirroring the girl's actions with Seungcheol, your eyes never leaving his as you deliberately provoke a reaction.

You watch with satisfaction as Seungcheol's expression shifts, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. It's a small victory, but in this game of tit for tat, every move counts. And you're determined to show him that you're not one to be played with so easily.

As the guy beside you leans in, his voice barely audible over the thumping bass of the music, he whispers, "Hey, want to go somewhere a bit quieter?"

You meet his gaze, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you nod in agreement. "Sure, why not?"

With a playful smile, you follow him through the crowded club, weaving between bodies until you reach a more secluded corner. The dim lighting casts shadows across the walls, providing a semblance of privacy amidst the chaos.

As you settle into the secluded corner, the guy leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he continues to flirt shamelessly. You play along, matching his enthusiasm with a hint of seduction, all the while stealing glances at Seungcheol across the room.

You catch his eye once again, and this time, there's a flicker of surprise in his expression, a hint of realization dawning in his eyes. You hold his gaze defiantly, silently daring him to make a move, to acknowledge the game you're both playing.

Seungcheol's lips are now occupied with the girl's, but his eyes remain fixed on you. It's a silent acknowledgment of the game you're both playing, a subtle challenge that sets your pulse racing.

As the girl leans into him, lost in the moment, Seungcheol's gaze intensifies. There's a depth to his eyes, a silent communication that transcends words. It's as if he's saying, "I see you, and I raise you."

You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. There's a fierce determination in your eyes, a defiance that matches his own.

And as the girl continues to kiss him with her eyes closed, oblivious to the silent exchange between you and Seungcheol, you can't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Turning your attention back to the guy in front of you, you lean in teasingly close, your lips just grazing his as you playfully evade his attempts to kiss you. His hands begin to roam, tracing patterns along your thighs, the fabric of your dress hitching up with each movement.

You revel in the thrill of the moment, the anticipation building as you toy with him, teasing and tempting with every touch. With a mischievous smile, you finally give in, pressing your lips to his in a heated kiss, your mind buzzing with the knowledge that Seungcheol's eyes never once left you, even as he indulged in his own distraction.

As the guy in front of you moves from your lips to your jaw and down to your neck, placing soft kisses along the way, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, forgetting momentarily about the game you were playing with Seungcheol.

But before things can escalate further, you're suddenly pulled away, the guy's touch vanishing as this person grabs your arm and guides you towards an empty room. You stumble slightly as he pushes you through the door, the cool air of the room hitting you in contrast to the heated atmosphere outside.

"Having fun, are we?" Seungcheol's voice cuts through the air, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You bristle at his accusation, your defenses rising instinctively. "I'm not the one who started this," you retort, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

"You're talking back now?" Seungcheol's voice carries a teasing edge, his amusement evident as he grabs your face in his fingers, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

You can feel the heat of his touch against your skin, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. But instead of backing down, you decide to play the brat, knowing it will provoke him further.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" you challenge, a smirk playing on your lips as you meet his gaze defiantly.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he says, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Seungcheol's grip tightens slightly, his jaw clenching as a flicker of irritation flashes across his features. But there's something else there too, a primal desire that you can't ignore.

You lean in closer, deliberately pushing his buttons as you revel in the power play between you.

"I'm not the one who fucked up, Seungcheol," you declare, refusing to back down as you move closer to his face, the tension crackling between you.

But instead of acknowledging any wrongdoing, Seungcheol's gaze darkens with possessiveness. "You let others touch and kiss you," he accuses, his voice low and dangerous. "You belong to me. Every inch of you is mine."

You bristle at his words, his attempt to gaslight you only fueling your defiance. "Oh, do I?" you retort, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Last I checked, you weren't the only one in this game."

But he doesn't back down, his grip tightening on your face as he leans in closer. "You fucking allowed someone to kiss you, Y/N," he growls, his voice laced with barely contained anger.

"Like I said, Seungcheol, you're the one who started it. I'm just doing my part," you shoot back, refusing to let him intimidate you.

With a defiant tilt of your chin, you move your hand above his chest, tracing a teasing swirl with your fingertips, a bratty challenge in your actions. You're not about to let him dictate the terms of this game, not when you're just as capable of playing dirty.

Seungcheol's breath catches at your touch, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and frustration. But you hold his gaze, unflinching in the face of his intensity. This may be his game, but you're determined to show him that you're not one to be controlled so easily. (but you were dead wrong)

As Seungcheol leans closer, his lips brushing against your neck, his words send a shiver down your spine. "You should have rushed towards me when that whore began flirting, but you just watched, isn't that right?" he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You should have claimed me right there."

His words strike a nerve, and you can't deny the truth in them. But before you can respond, he continues, his lips trailing lower to your collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from you. You tilt your head back, offering him more access, but he abruptly pulls away, his gaze piercing as he faces you head-on.

"But instead of running to me, you chose to flirt with someone, huh?" he accuses, his voice tinged with anger and disappointment. "And you even had the guts to fucking kiss that shit. And now you're telling me it's my fault?"

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can speak, Seungcheol's lips find their way to your ear, his teeth nibbling gently as he moves his hand to the exposed skin of your back, tracing slow circles along your backless dress. He leans back once again, his gaze pierces through you with a mixture of anger and desire, a storm swirling in his eyes.

"Did you enjoy making out with that fucker, huh?" Seungcheol's voice is low, his lips almost touching yours, sending a jolt of heat through you. You can feel the wetness forming between your legs as his dominance overwhelms you.

You lick your lips, feeling the dryness as you try to find your voice. "It wasn't like that," you protest weakly, but the desire in his eyes leaves you breathless.

Seungcheol's gaze darkens with lust as he continues, his knee pressing gently between your legs, a tantalizing pressure that makes your pulse race. "Did you use your pretty tongue of yours?" he demands, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "When I went there, you had your fucking eyes closed. Did you fucking enjoy his company that much?"

You struggle to respond, his words sending a surge of arousal coursing through you. But before you can form a coherent reply, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours as he whispers, "Did you let that fucker touch you?" His tone is laced with lustful desire, a primal need that ignites a fire within you.

Seungcheol's eyes narrow with intensity, his desire evident as he waits for your response. He knows, and you know he knows, but still, he wants to hear it from your lips.

You're torn between defiance and desire, your body craving his touch even as your pride fights against it. But in the end, it's the intoxicating mix of jealousy and longing in his eyes that wins out.

With a sudden surge of boldness, you grab his collar, pulling him closer, and press your lips to his hungrily. Your kiss is hungry, fueled by a primal need to possess and be possessed.

He finds your eagerness amusing, a smirk playing on his lips as he allows you to take control. But he doesn't kiss you back, his lips remaining passive against yours, a silent challenge that only serves to heighten your desire.

You find his refusal to respond maddeningly arousing, the thrill of the chase driving you to push him further. But deep down, you know that no matter how much you crave his touch, Seungcheol is the one in control.

As he remains passive against your hungry kiss, a whimper escapes your lips, betraying the frustration and desire swirling inside you. You can sense his arousal, feel the heat radiating from him, yet he remains strangely calm despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Why won't you..." you start to protest, but Seungcheol interrupts you with a low chuckle, his eyes dark with amusement and desire.

"Because I know you want it more," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "And I'm going to make you beg for it."

His words ignite a fire within you, a mixture of frustration and arousal that threatens to consume you. You know he's playing with you, teasing you with the promise of pleasure, and you can't help but fall deeper under his spell. With a frustrated growl, you release his collar, stepping back slightly as you try to catch your breath.

"But if you want to do something with that mouth of yours..." Seungcheol's voice trails off, his tone low and suggestive as he brushes his thumb against your parted lips.

Your breath hitches at the touch, anticipation coursing through you as he inserts his thumb into your mouth, pressing against your tongue with firm insistence.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of desire and defiance, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. The taste of his skin against your tongue only serves to fuel the fire within you, igniting a hunger that can't be ignored.

As you suckle gently on his thumb, you can feel the tension in the air crackling with electricity, a silent acknowledgment of the power play unfolding between you.

Seungcheol's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's it, be a good girl" he murmurs, his voice husky with arousal. "Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do."

As you try to suckle on his thumb further, Seungcheol gently stops you, His gaze flickers down to his pants, a silent invitation that you understand all too well.

Without needing any further instruction, you drop to your knees in front of him, your eyes locking with his as you face his obvious arousal straining against his pants.

With practiced ease, you reach out, deftly undoing the button and zipper, releasing him from his confinement. His erection springs free, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation, the sight of him already making you throb with need.

Desire coursing through you as you meet his gaze, silently asking for permission. Seungcheol's eyes darken with lust as he watches you, a primal hunger burning within him. With a silent nod, he gives you the approval you seek, granting you permission to satisfy his every need.

As you begin to slowly suck his cock, Seungcheol's hand gently tilts your chin upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burn with intensity, a silent command for you to maintain eye contact while you pleasure him.

With his erection in your mouth, you comply, locking eyes with him as you take him deeper, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum pleasure for him, but your gaze remains locked with his, a silent exchange of desire and dominance.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal as he watches you. "Being watched while you please me."

You can only respond with a muffled hum, your mouth too full to form words, but the hunger in your eyes speaks volumes. As you continue to swirl your tongue along his cock, Seungcheol hisses with satisfaction, praising how good you are.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice rough with desire as he sets the pace. "Just like that, baby. You know exactly what I like."

His words only serve to fuel your desire to please him further, and you redouble your efforts, determined to make him lose himself in pleasure.

But just as you find your rhythm, Seungcheol holds your hair up, tilting your head back slightly. With a soft groan, he begins to move his hips, setting a pace that you eagerly follow.

You struggle to maintain your balance as he sets the pace, your hands instinctively reaching out to grip his hip and thigh for support. The feeling of him moving within your mouth, filling you completely, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you moan around him, the vibrations only serving to heighten his arousal.

Seungcheol's praises continue, his voice thick with desire as he urges you on, each movement of his hips driving you closer to the edge. You lose yourself in the sensation, completely at his mercy as you surrender to the pleasure of pleasuring him.

As Seungcheol's hips rock into your mouth with increasing force, tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. The roughness of his movements, combined with the demand to not stop using your tongue, sends a wave of mixed sensations coursing through you.

"Don't stop," he demands, his voice low and urgent. "Keep using that pretty tongue."

You try to comply, despite the ache in your jaw from the force of his thrusts. With every movement, he pushes you further, driving you to the brink of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck," he groans, his grip tightening in your hair as he moves faster, his movements becoming more frantic with each passing moment. "Just like that, baby. Don't you dare stop."

You do your best to obey, your mouth working tirelessly to pleasure him despite the strain. But with each passing second, the ache in your jaw becomes more pronounced, tears streaming down your face as you struggle to keep up with his relentless pace.

As Seungcheol's thrusts become more urgent, you can sense that he's getting closer to the edge. Bracing yourself, you prepare for what you know he wants – for you to swallow it all for him.

"Fuck, I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained with ecstasy as he approaches the brink of release.

With a mixture of anticipation and submission, you continue to obey his every command, your mouth working tirelessly to bring him to the peak of pleasure.

As Seungcheol reaches his climax, he pulls his cock out of your mouth just as you're about to swallow all of his cum. Instead, he places it on your lips, his juices still dribbling out from his pulsing cock.

"Keep it there," he commands, his voice thick with satisfaction and dominance. "Let me see you with my cum on your lips."

You obey without hesitation, holding his spent cock in place as his essence coats your mouth. The taste lingers on your tongue, a potent reminder of his control over you as you look up at him with eager anticipation, awaiting his next command.

He looks at you with satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips as he observes your submissive state.

"You know," he says, his voice laced with smugness, "you can never beat me."

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his dominance pressing down on you. Despite your best efforts to resist, you know he's right. He always seems to have the upper hand, leaving you powerless to his desires.

With a firm grip on your chin, he reminds you of your place. "Next time a girl flirts with me," he says sternly, "you need to claim that I'm yours. No more flirting with fuckers who approach you."

His words are a sharp reminder of the rules of this game, a game in which he always seems to come out on top.

Seungcheol kneels before you, catching your lip and tasting his own cum on your tongue. His actions are possessive yet tender, a contradiction that leaves you breathless.

"I hope this will be the first and last time you'll act like this, okay?" he murmurs against your lips, biting gently as you nod in response.

He kisses your forehead, his voice softening as he asks if you want to leave the club now. His eyes hold a warmth that belies the intensity of the moment, leaving you questioning the nature of your relationship.

You've asked him about being official before, but he always seems to evade the topic. As you stand there, caught between desire and uncertainty, you can't help but wonder if there's something deeper between you two, something more than just a casual fling. The question lingers, unanswered, as you follow him out of the club, the night's events leaving you with more questions than answers.

....... ≿━━━━━༺S.COUPS༻━━━━━≾ .......

[shomatoriashi]

10/19/24; 03:55pm

e.rank!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

your boyfriend appears a little jittery when he arrived at your workplace today, hands placed behind his back while meeting your gaze with a nervous smile. giggling at the sight of him, you lean across the counter to give jinwoo a gentle kiss.

“hey, jinwoo. i don’t get off work for another 3 hours. what brings you here?”

he begins to flush red with embarrassment, lifting up a hand to brush back his messy ebony locks of hair. “i know, but i was running some errands and saw something i thought you’d like.”

a sweet smile paints your expression, “oh? and what is it that you wanted to give me that it couldn’t wait until later?”

cue jinwoo’s nervous laugh as he reveals something to you. it was a slender box wrapped neatly and tied in the ribbon that was your favorite color. beneath the ribbon was what looked like a printed sheet of paper. curious as to what the contents were, you untie the ribbon while picking up the paper, eyes scanning it momentarily before going wide.

“j-jinwoo, is this a prank?”

your boyfriend flashes you a happy grin while shaking his head.

“you actually got reservations to that restaurant? the one i’ve been dying to try?!”

he chuckles while giving you yet another nod. “yes, but the reservation is just part of your surprise. unwrap the gift and see what’s inside.”

your hands were slightly shaking, placing the reservation page off to the side. with gentle movements, you tear through the wrapping on the side, revealing a long, black velvet box. as you open up the box, you felt your breath hitch at the sight settled in front of you.

inside the box was a gorgeously crafted bracelet that held a variety of flowers as its charm. the flowers were all beautifully decorated with a variety of gemstones, each seeming to shine brighter than the other as you fell in love with the design. “it’s so beautiful… and all of the gemstones are so utterly gorgeous…”

a ruby red rose,

tourmaline pink tulips,

orange lilies,

and a pure white diamond daisy-

just the sight of it all was too much for you to take.

overwhelmed with pure love for him, you lean forward to press a lingering kiss against his lips, giggling when you feel his smile. you keep on kissing him, not daring to move away from him until you were satisfied.

your expression maintains its dreamy quality, with you taking a step back to admire the bracelet and the reservation confirmation. shaking your head at the sight of both gifts, you meet his gaze once more, “oh jinwoo, i truly love it so much! b-but, how are you able to afford something so magnificent?”

a flash of something was seen in his stormy gaze, and it disappeared just mere seconds later. jinwoo shakes his head while taking the bracelet out of your hand, focused on removing it from the confines of the velvet box as he unclasps it.

“what? i’m not allowed to spoil my girlfriend on her birthday?”

his question makes you feel a bit flustered, and you couldn’t help but simply watch when he grips at your wrist to wrap the bracelet around it. “i-i mean, i do adore these gifts, b-but don’t you have jinah and your mother to take care of?”

jinwoo shakes his head after fastening the bracelet around your wrist, now gently gripping at your chin to force your gaze to meet with his. “don’t be silly… it’s about damn time that i’m able to spoil you, too.”

you open your mouth, ready to protest when he suddenly surges forward to capture your lips into yet another unsuspecting kiss. once he was sure that he had properly silenced your words, jinwoo pulls away while resting his forehead against yours, “it’s okay; everything that i do- every gift that i give to you, it will always be done out of my pure love for you.”

you smile back at him, ready to give him another kiss when your boss suddenly appears behind you. she says your name while clicking her tongue, “what’s this i hear about you having a birthday today?”

gasping, you look back to see your boss smiling back at you, “ah, s-sorry! i didn’t think it was necessary to tell you, since i was on schedule to work today.”

she shakes her head and lifts up the palm of her hand. “say no more, i think we’re a bit slow at the moment. how about you take the rest of the day off and enjoy your big day?”

“wait, you mean it?!”

she gives you a smile before disappearing into the back of the shop, “of course. you go ahead and enjoy your day.”

you could barely contain your excitement, practically jumping up and down before pressing a quick, chaste kiss against jinwoo’s lips. “wait for me, i’ll get my stuff and then we can head home and get ready together.”

“of course.” watching you with a gaze that was filled with love and adoration for you, jinwoo settles himself off to the side, now getting a chance to bask in his thoughts.

his last mission was a success, with him finding thousands upon thousands of essence stones. once he scooped up all of the stones while keeping them safely tucked away in the inventory space the system had given him, he knew he was able to afford all the things he wished to give you upon selling them. he knew that his family would always take first priority-

but you deserved it as well, being someone who remained by his side even when he started out as being weaker than the rest.

when jinwoo hears your incoming footsteps, jinwoo looks back at you and gives you a playful grin, relishing in your laughter and the way your newly gifted bracelet shone so brightly against the light, matching with the brilliance of your smile.

and when he takes you into his arms, pulling you flushed against his side while walking with you out of the shop, jinwoo knew that he would do just about anything to protect that smile of yours.

end notes: my birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and i wanted to write a self indulgent fic where the love of my life celebrates it with me 🥹

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[buckys-loverman]

Teacher’s Pet- Jeremiah Fisher

What would you do for a higher grade?

warnings: smut, finger banging, 18+ appropriate, slight degrading kink, vulgar language

pairing: fem!reader x jeremiah fisher

A/N: i am back baby!! sorry for taking forever to upload, was having issues with uploading on tumblr but im so happy to be back writing for you guys. i will be uploading a conrad story within the next couple days so stay tuned!

“Mr. Fisher please!” You trailed behind your physics TA, begging for his assistance on the upcoming exam.

“I told you to call me Jeremiah.” He sighed, pushing his hair back as he continued to pace down the hallway, leaving you to jog behind him in order to catch up.

You reached out to touch his arm, “Jeremiah then-” He turned around suddenly almost causing you to crash into his chest, “30 minutes is all I need with you to help me with the review.”

He looked around for other students as he lowered his voice, “This is the third time you’ve been late to office hours, and I can’t keep giving you special treatment for being tardy. Don’t do it again.”

Before you could respond, he turned back around in a quick motion and continued down the hallway, calling your name to follow him to the library.

A burst of excitement spiked through your body as you gladly followed behind him, not complaining as you got extra tutoring time with him.

Jeremiah wasn’t aware that you had been purposely late to office hours in order to get his undivided and uninterrupted attention. You always made the excuse that office hours “overlapped” with your other classes in order for him to feel some form of pity for you.

For who would turn down such a good student?

The study room in the corner of the library was always empty as it was the only one without a white board, but instead a window overlooking the campus. Because of that, Jeremiah was forced to always write down his practice problems in your notebook directly next to you.

You scribbled down your responses to the force & gravity unit questions in your textbook when you notice Jeremiah scanning your body over your answers. In a quick motion, you push back on your chair as you reach for your backpack on the ground, arching your back as you stretch forward with your back to him.

Jeremiah clears his throat as he shifts in his chair, moving his gaze away from you as he returns back to your textbook, seeing what you had previously written down.

“You’ve been doing great this past semester, it doesn’t seem like you need my help?” He states, leaning back into his chair as he scans between your eyes.

You slightly smile as you began to pull your hair back, “I do-” You respond with a naive tone, “I’ve been struggling with force.” Your button up shirt stretched tight against your chest as you put your hair in a ponytail, causing Jeremiah’s eyes to drop for a split second before quickly returning to your face.

You lean forward in your chair, slightly exposing the top of your white mesh bra as you stare with purposeful doe eyes, “I don’t think I’ve had enough examples.” You pout.

Jeremiah’s body tenses up for a second but quickly disappears as his eyes darken. He leans forward, placing a hand on your chair as he analyzes your face; “Are you playing dumb with me?”

A slight smirk tempted to slip from your mouth, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say Mr. Fisher-” you begin to say when a warm hand grips at the bottom of your face, a small gasp escaping from your mouth.

“I told you not to call me that.” His voice was lower than before as he stood tall above you, his eyes sweeping your body without shame. “What are you willing to do for a good grade?” Jeremiah taunts, his fingers trailing down to your neck.

“Anything.” You whisper, maintaining eye contact as his fingers slowly begin to wrap around your neck, mimicking the same firm hold he had on your face just moments before.

Jeremiah lifts your body up, shoving it against the table you were once working on. In a swift motion he grabs the back of your head as the two of your lips combine, rhythmically moving against each other with a newfound force.

Your fingers tangle in his curls, slightly tugging at the ends as a small moan escapes his mouth, giving him more motivation as he makes his way down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind.

“Students like you learn best through examples- ”His fingers unbutton your top, exposing the rest of your bra that you teased earlier, “So I’ll make sure to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

Jeremiah yanks at your wrist as he pulls you towards the window, slamming your chest to the glass. Your nipples hardened against the cool glass, a sense of panic overwhelmed your body as you see an array of students down below, walking to class or talking amongst their peers.

“What if someone sees?” You question as your mouth felt dry and your head felt dizzy as his fingers trail from the strap of your bra, down to curve of your stomach up until his fingers move their way below your skirt.

“Then everyone will know what a dirty little slut you are for the TA.” Jeremiah whispers in your ear, as his fingers begin to rub slow and sensual circles on top of your clit, the fabric of your underwear beginning to feel suffocating.

The shame you once felt before washed away as moans left your mouth, your head tossing back onto his shoulder as his warm body pressed into yours from behind. The cold from the glass and the heat from his fingers was the perfect combination, your body felt electric between the two.

His fingers moved slowly down your underwear, “God you’re so fucking wet-” Another moan escaped from your mouth as he slowly and painfully moved along your clit, “And here I thought you were a good girl.” You could hear the cockiness drip from his tongue.

“I am.” You whined, your back arching in an attempt to get more friction, only to be met with the feeling of his erection, and did it feel big.

You felt a slap on your clit as you yelped, “Don’t speak out of turn. You got that, princess?” His harsh tone sent butterflies through your stomach as you simply nodded, letting him return his attention back to you.

Jeremiah moved your underwear to the side as he slid one finger inside of you. Another loud moan escaped your mouth as you felt just how long his finger really is, and how well he knew how to use it.

The finger began twisting inside of you, pumping in and out as sloppy sounds echoed throughout the room, your body beginning to overheat as you spread your legs wider.

“Good girl.” He purred, placing a second finger inside of you. The new found sensation overtaking your balance as you pushed yourself deeper into the glass, your nipples peaking through the mesh bra and on display for anybody who simply looked up.

Everything seemed to begin to blur, the pleasure spreading throughout your body as you begin approaching your high. Jeremiah yanks your hair back as his lips meet your ear; beginning to lick and suck as he finds all your sweet spots.

He’s consistent, both of his fingers continue to pump in and out of you in a fast motion, his thumb reaching to draw circles on your clit, “Jere.” Is all you can manage to say as his teeth tug at the bottom of ear.

“Cum for me, darling.”

His words work as a command as your body cannot handle anymore of the pleasure, your legs start to shake beyond control as the heat in your stomach burns stronger than before, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head as you experience the strongest high of your life.

Your vision blurs as the sensation overtakes your body, causing you to cum hard on his fingers, giving him the satisfaction he knew he would get from you.

As you begin to adjust back to normal you turn around to see Jeremiah leaning against the table, your textbook untouched behind him, as he intensely licks his fingers where your cum visibly stained.

“Wether you pass the exam or not, I expect to see you back here next week.” He smirks, “For I still have much to teach you.”

—————————————————————————

YALL jere is a slut and no one can tell me otherwise!! this last episode got me giggling & kicking my feet now that i have inspiration for some new stories… ;)