#WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAD A GOOD CONVERSATION ABOUT TRUST

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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[eclipixels]

Payback

Sylus x reader

Content: You don't like Sylus allowing other girls to flirt with him, so you take matters into your own hands to get back at him

A/N: pt.1 pt.2

[2,911 words]

      You sat with Sylus at the bar, your head resting against his shoulder, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air around you. The two of you had arrived earlier than most, and now, as you watched the slow trickle of people filtering in, you couldn’t help but think that maybe Sylus had been right, you should have waited a little longer before coming.

      With a soft sigh, you sat up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m gonna go use the bathroom, okay?" you murmured, your fingers lightly squeezing his arm before you slipped away toward the restroom.

      The momentary break was meant to be nothing, just a quick trip before returning to his side. But when you emerged, your heart nearly stopped.

      A woman stood dangerously close to him, tilting her head in that familiar, flirtatious way as she batted her lashes. The dim lighting of the bar only made the moment more intimate, more insufferable. Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, she leaned in, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something you weren’t meant to hear, something that sent a searing pang of jealousy straight through you.

      Did you really believe him when he told you that you were the only woman he wanted? That he never entertained temptation? That he never strayed, even when countless women threw themselves at him?

      You wanted to believe him. You truly did. But watching this unfold, watching him stand there and allow her to linger, to bask in his presence without a single sign of dismissal—it gnawed at you. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t flirting back or even paying her much attention. The fact that he didn’t push her away, that he allowed these moments to exist at all, was what truly got under your skin.

      And who could blame her for being drawn to him? Sylus looked effortlessly breathtaking in his tailored black Versace suit, the sleek fabric clinging to him in all the right ways. He exuded confidence, mystery, an untouchable charm that made heads turn the moment he stepped into a room. If you were in her position, wouldn’t you want a man like him to look at you the way you wished he only looked at you?

      But why? Why couldn’t he make it clear that he was unavailable, that there was no room for anyone else in his orbit? The questions burned in your mind, threatening to spill over into words you weren’t sure you were ready to say aloud.

      Because no matter how much you trusted him, doubt had a way of creeping in like a shadow in the night. And right now, standing there, watching her linger in his space… that shadow felt all-consuming.

      "You okay?" a voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to find yourself looking at some guy. Tall, effortlessly good-looking, with a broody, mysterious air that made him stand out.

      "I'm completely awesome. Just having the time of my life," you replied with a smirk, the sarcasm practically dripping from your words. "I mean, you agree, right? I am awesome. You know what? Don't even answer that."

      He gave you a small smile, the kind that was just barely there but still managed to be annoyingly charming. "As much as I’ve heard about you, you're more than just awesome."

      Your drunken mind barely registered the comment or who exactly had been talking about you. But if he had heard things, well, hopefully, they were good things. He had this whole mysterious, darkly intriguing vibe, and if you weren’t so hopelessly in love with Sylus, maybe—just maybe—something could have happened.

      "Do you wanna dance?" you asked impulsively, tilting your head at him.

      His eyes widened slightly, as if the question had caught him off guard. "I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, his voice polite yet firm.

      Seriously, what was it with men not wanting to dance with you today? You were an amazing dancer.

      "And why exactly wouldn't it be appropriate?" you teased, grabbing his arm before he could protest and pulling him toward the dance floor. Not that you were trying to make Sylus jealous or anything. But, you know, if it happened organically, you wouldn’t be opposed.

      "Just relax. It's just a dance," you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him a little closer. You giggled as he let out a small breath, clearly debating whether to just go with it or keep resisting.

      Then, as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, the music shifted into something slow and romantic, one of those songs you'd never heard before but could already tell was meant for lovers lost in each other’s arms.

      Perfect. Just perfect.

      You didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see if that woman was still talking to Sylus.

      "You know," your dance partner said after a moment, "I learned how to waltz once. It’s been a few years, though."

      You chuckled, tilting your head at him. "Oh yeah? Think you still got it?"

      He smirked slightly. "Guess we’re about to find out."

      For a fleeting second, you felt Sylus’s gaze burning into you from across the room. You could almost hear the unspoken words in his stare. But you ignored it. To hell with him.

      The two of you danced so flawlessly, so effortlessly, that the energy in the room shifted. People took notice. Whispers spread, eyes turned. But you didn’t care. For the first time tonight, you were simply having fun.

      Then, with a fluid motion, he twirled you around, sending a rush of exhilaration through your veins before pulling you back into his arms. And finally, the grand finish—a dip, deep and dramatic. The moment lingered as you locked eyes with him, your breath slightly ragged from the movement.

      A slow smile spread across your face as you straightened up. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” you admitted, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

      "I'm glad I could make that happen," he replied, his own smile warm and genuine.

      Before you could say anything else, the sound of clapping caught your attention. You turned to see Wanda and Tara grinning at you, their faces full of approval and amusement.

      “You were amazing!” Tara cheered, her excitement practically radiating off her.

      Your dance partner chuckled, then took a small step back. “You should go join your friends,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Besides, I wouldn’t want any trouble for you.”

      And just like that, he turned to leave.

      A frown crept onto your face. His words confused you. What kind of trouble? He was fun to be around, easy to talk to. You had a feeling that if nothing else, the two of you could have been good friends. But he was gone before you could ask.

      The thrill of dancing, the lightness of the moment—it all started to fade as the weight of reality crashed back down. For a little while, the music, the movement, the laughter had made you forget. Forget about Sylus. Forget about the ache in your chest.

      But now? Now, it all came rushing back.

      You forced a smile as you said goodnight to Tara and your other hunter friends. They wanted you to stay, to shake off the sadness, but you were drained. Completely and utterly exhausted.

      All you wanted was to be alone. To cry in peace.

      And you didn’t care how you got home.

      Stepping outside, the cool night air did little to soothe the fire burning inside you. But as if the universe hadn’t tormented you enough tonight, there he was—Sylus, leaning against his motorcycle, waiting.

      The last person you wanted to see right now.

      At least he wasn’t with her.

      "What are you doing here?" you asked, voice sharper than intended.

      At the sound of your voice, he turned his head, his expression unreadable—until his eyes met yours. Then, just like that, his gaze hardened.

      "The real question is, what the hell were you doing in there? With that guy?" His tone was sharp, laced with something that almost sounded like jealousy.

      God. The sheer audacity.

      You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "It's called dancing, Sylus. You know, that thing people do when they're having fun?" You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. "And honestly? The hypocrisy is commendable. Really."

      His brows furrowed. "The hypocrisy? What’s gotten into you, Y/N?"

      Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the adrenaline crashing. Maybe it was the way your heart still ached from watching him with her. But something inside you cracked.

      "You know what? You’re right. I knew what I was getting into with you," you admitted, voice shaking, "but I can’t do it anymore."

      His expression faltered for the first time, but you didn’t let him speak.

      "Is this even a relationship to you, Sylus? Or am I just someone you’re fooling around with until you get bored?" The words came out harsher than you expected, but you didn’t care.

      For a moment, silence hung between you like a storm waiting to break.

      Then, something in his face changed. The sharpness faded, replaced with something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

      Hurt?

      "Is that what you really think of me?" he asked, voice quieter now, almost disbelieving. "Of us?"

      You swallowed hard, but he didn’t stop.

      "Is that what you think I’m doing?" He took a step forward, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be seen. "Just stringing you along until I get bored?"

      The way he said it made your chest tighten, but you wouldn’t let him turn this around on you.

      You stepped back, refusing to let your resolve waver.

      "That’s how you made me feel today, Sylus," you snapped, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you had held in. "You made me feel used. You made me feel small—like I was nothing compared to her. Like she mattered to you, and I didn’t."

      Your lips quivered as you tried to hold back the lump forming in your throat, but the words wouldn’t stop now.

      "You can’t let the most gorgeous woman in the room flirt with you, throw it in my face, and then expect me to just stand there and not care," you choked out, barely recognizing your own voice—raw, broken, angry.

      Sylus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t trying to hurt you. You knew that. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. And maybe he hadn’t been ready for this confrontation, but neither were you—you hadn’t asked for this heartbreak.

      "She means nothing to me, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now. "And she wasn’t the most gorgeous woman in the room."

      You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah? That’s funny, considering how easily you let her hang all over you."

      His jaw tightened. "Don’t use that tone with me, Y/N."

      And that—that—set you off completely.

      "Fuck off, Sylus," you spat, stepping back, fire burning behind your eyes. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act jealous then get mad when I get the same way."

      As soon as the words left your mouth, Sylus closed the distance between you in an instant, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was rough, desperate, and possessive. He had heard enough. He couldn’t lose you like this. He wouldn’t let it happen.

      You wanted to fight back, wanted to push him away, wanted to scream at him for how much he had hurt you tonight—but you didn’t. Instead, you gave in. You kissed him back with just as much fire, all the jealousy, anger, and pain pouring into the way your lips moved against his. You wanted to rip his hair out, but at the same time, you wanted to fuck him senseless.

      His hands gripped your waist as he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him. He walked forward until your back hit the wall, trapping you between the cool surface and the warmth of his body. A sharp gasp left your lips as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him. His mouth was on you in an instant, lips and teeth marking you, sucking deep enough to leave bruises. His marks.

      He wasn’t the only jealous one tonight.

      Watching you dance, hearing you laugh so freely with that guy—it had made something primal snap inside him. He wanted to be the one spinning you around, holding you in his arms, making you smile like that. He wanted to be the man who made you happy.

      His hands slid under your dress, gripping your ass roughly as he pressed his hips forward, grinding against you. You gasped at the friction, a moan slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, rolling your hips against his, desperate for something to ease the ache between your legs. You were frustrated, upset, and so fucking turned on all at once.

      Then, before you could stop it, a single tear slipped down your cheek.

      Sylus stilled.

      He heard the soft, broken sob escape your lips, and his chest tightened. His hands, which had been gripping you so possessively just moments ago, suddenly softened their hold. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as his breathing evened out.

      His thumb brushed the tear from your cheek before he pressed a tender kiss there, his lips lingering. And then, slowly, he set you back down onto your feet.

      The loss of contact made you shiver, but you weren’t ready for this moment to end—not like this.

      “I'm so absolutely sorry for how I made you feel tonight.”

      “I just wish you would push those women away, why don’t you do that?” Your lips quivered. His heart broke, how could he make you feel this way? He was mad at himself.

      “I didn’t think it mattered. I thought you already knew I loved you.” He admits, feeling stupid for not realizing sooner how much it hurt you.

      “Still, it hurts seeing them flirt with you and you do nothing.”

      “I am sincerely sorry my love, I promise, I won’t let it happen anymore.” He closes the distance between you two. He wraps his arms around you tightly "you're my weakness y/n, I never wanted to have one but then you came along.”

      “You’re mine, okay?” You say firmly.

      "I am yours. So beautiful you are, the prettiest. I love the dress princess" he kisses your forehead

      "Thank you love, I got it in your color" you smile.

      "I know but It would look better on the floor” He grins wickedly. Oh my god, you really are stuck with him now.

      “Don’t think I’m forgiving you that easily, though,” you said, your voice firm, your expression stern.

      Sylus paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, but he masked it quickly. “What do I have to do?”

      You took a step closer to him, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Beg.”

      His brows furrowed, and he blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What? You can’t be serious.”

      You leaned in, your gaze locking with his, a challenge in your eyes. “You heard me. On your knees. Beg me to forgive you.”

      His lips parted, but he didn’t immediately comply. “Y/n–”

      Before he could say anything else, you shoved him gently but firmly, guiding him to the ground. The sudden action had his breath hitching, but he quickly found his footing, settling on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, his gaze filled with something between defiance and desperation.

      His thighs flexed as he kneaded his jaw, eyes narrowing in thought. Then, he finally spoke, his voice low and sincere. “Please forgive me, darling. I am so fucking sorry.”

      You raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with the apology.

      Sylus let out a soft groan, his hands resting on his thighs, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “I’m so, so sorry.” His voice dropped an octave, heavy with regret.

      And still, something in you wanted more.

      The sincerity in his eyes pulled at something deep inside you, but you weren’t ready to let him off that easy. "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear how much I mean to you. I want to know that you won't let this happen again."

      His breath hitched as his hands moved to the floor for support, his body leaning slightly toward you as if instinctively reaching for you, aching for you. “I won’t let it happen again, I swear to you. I won’t make the same mistake. Please, Y/n, forgive me. I can’t lose you. You mean everything to me.”

      You could see the desperation in his eyes now, the plea for you to believe him.

      "That’s better," you said, nodding slowly. "But words are just that. Show me."

      He lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked back up at you, his posture shifting as if he was preparing to give you all of him. And he did just that, all night long. You drained the life out of him, not stopping until you were satisfied.

[akawifeyy]

A DATE AT SEVEN, I DREAMED OF HEAVEN | fic (LN4)

description: after dozens of failed attempts, you finally cave in to your best friend's pleads to let her set you up with somebody.

tropes: blind date, love at first sight, fem!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: this is an au i've had in my mind for agessss omg

You were so fed up with the toxic culture of online dating apps that you finally gave in to your best friend Isolde's request, letting her set you up with someone. A blind date was not something you would normally do – it was out of your comfort zone and definitely risky. Perhaps it would be worth it, though. You trusted Isolde, that she wouldn't lead you astray. But even the people with the best intentions could be proven wrong.

According to her, he was cute and funny. A good conversationalist, loyal. "A lot to handle at once, but he's like a puppy. He'll grow on you." The words were somewhat comforting, yet the jury was still out on whether it was a good match. You had been thinking about it all week, staring into space and dreaming about meeting him, the perfect man. 

Today was the day. For lack of better words, it was showtime. The hour was nigh, proving that your delusions would be upheld or shattered. You stood outside the cafe, tapping your foot impatiently as you scrolled through your Instagram feed. You had tried to find your blind date, but he wasn't following Isolde.

It could have been anyone. The guy in the beige trench coat walking his dog, or the man with dyed blue hair and two piercings standing at the crosswalk.

But no, it wasn't either of them.

A tanned, curly-headed man sauntered up to you, his hazel eyes scanning you like he was making sure you were the right person. "Hey, you're Y/N, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, are you my date?" You grinned, blushing as you took in his appearance. Damn, your friend had done a good job. He was exactly your type.

The man outstretched a hand. "I'm Lando. Nice to meet you."

You took the handshake, heat flooding you at the contact.

After pulling apart, Lando opened the door to the cafe, ushering you in first and trailing behind you.

The cafe itself was cozy, with warm lantern lights hanging from the ceiling, and various flora tangling itself throughout the stucco brick walls. The hostess brought you to a comfortable booth in a quiet part of the restaurant, and Lando let you sit down first before striking up a conversation.

"So..." he started, a smile growing on his lips. "You're friends with Isolde, hm?"

You nodded. "Yeah, we've been friends since year one of uni. How do you know her?"

"We're cousins," he confided. "Sadly."

You cocked your head to the side, trying to determine if he was joking or not. "Why is that a sad thing?"

"Everyone thinks we're siblings, and then when we tell them we're not, they assume our parents cheated." He hummed under his breath. Now that you were thinking about it, Isolde and Lando did look an awful lot like one another. They had the same unruly brown hair, tanned skin, hazel eyes. No wonder people were confused. "That's not really a conversation for the first date, is it, though? I'd like to know more about you."

You shrugged one shoulder. "Has Isolde not told you anything about me? I'm surprised."

Lando tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. "I mean, she told me that you went on dates with lots of guys that didn't work out. And not to fuck this up."

You laughed. "Sounds like Isolde."

"Well, want to enlighten me, Y/N?" Lando asked eagerly.

You looked down at your nails, which were painted a soft blue color. Isolde was training to be an esthetician, so she practiced on you frequently, something you weren't complaining about. "I mean, I love to read and write."

"What kind? Poetry? Epics?" he pushed, digging for more information. "I'm sure you're cool, now prove it to me."

You rolled your eyes jokingly. "I write poetry sometimes, but mostly just short stories. Nothing publishable, they're not that good." You ignored Lando's exasperated huff, and continued. "As for reading, I like romcoms and thrillers. I know, they're both opposites, but they're my favorites. Do you like to read?"

Lando shook his head. "Nope, I'm not a reader. But I don't mind you talking about the books that you're reading. Girls talking about their interests are single-handedly the most attractive thing I've ever witnessed."

"And how many girls do you usually have to talk to about such matters?" you inquired.

"I'm not a player, if that's what you're getting at," Lando said, his eyes wide. "I've had a few girlfriends, but none of them worked out. I'm not a cheater. If I'm talking to one girl, that's it. No one else matters."

You pursed your lips. "That's nice."

"It's basic decency," he corrected you sternly. "As for my hobbies, I like to game and drive cars."

"Like... sports cars?" you waited for clarification, confused.

Lando blinked, taken aback. "Y/N...Isolde didn't tell you?"

Panic flooded you, as you thought that you'd missed some important clue as to who he was. You were utterly oblivious. "No?"

"I'm a Formula One driver. For McLaren."

Oh. "Really?" you said quizzically. "She didn't tell me. She was probably respecting your privacy, and left that detail up to you."

Lando inclined his head. "That's nice of her, but I feel like a muppet. Do you watch F1?"

"Not really, I've watched a few Grand Prix, but I don't know much." You swallowed roughly. "Is that a dealbreaker?"

Lando frowned. "No. It's all the more reason to buy you paddock passes and show you what you're missing out on."

The waitress came by, and you ordered a few drinks and a small meal. You kept talking, slowly becoming more relaxed with one another. Lando informed you about his golf obsession, and you teased him, calling him an old man. In retaliation, he stole the cherry from your drink like a quick, cunning monkey, and you laughed so hard you couldn't breathe.

Isolde was right: Lando was amazing.

When you finished drinking and eating, Lando immediately offered to pay, but you pushed back, protesting loudly. "Let me split the bill, please."

"I have more than enough money for the both of us. It's the respectful thing to do," he reminded you.

You scowled at him, but gave up the fight you knew you were losing. "Fine."

You gathered your belongings, entering Lando's number into your phone, and bid him goodnight. Lando had given you a quick kiss on the cheek, thanking you for the date, and your body had bloomed with warmth at the sensation. "See you soon?"

"Yep," you beamed.

You knew this was just the first of many dates, and the start of a romance for the ages.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[the-froschamethyst4]

Paper Hearts

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Barrage x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, fluff, wholesome, language, kissing/making out, P in V, eating out, more use of Calvin, High School: nerdy! awkward! Barrage, popular! Reader, Adult Years: cocky! Barrage, innocent! Reader, children, married couple, groping, nipple play,

𖤐Summary: What started out as a small tradition by Barrage back in high school, still carries over into their adult years

————

————

A Week before Valentines Day High School

Cal was on the other side of the corner peaking his head out making sure, she wasn't there, quickly gaining confidence and walking to her locker, the one that was close to her Physics class, and the one she opens right when class is done.

He shoves a paper heart in between the grates of the locker and walking away, Cal was suppose to be in class right now but used the classic excuse 'I have to use the restroom' just so he could do this.

He goes back to class and sits down watching the clock now, he only has 20 minutes before class ends and he could go watch her open her locker and the paper heart falls out.

The bell rings and Cal gathers his stuff and rushes out of the classroom, going to the same hallway where her locker was, she wasn't there. Did she even see it? Did she read it and he missed it? Or has she not come out of the class yet?

Thoughts ran through his mind till he watched her come out of the classroom, her teacher behind her, they were talking about an upcoming project and she needed a bit more detail with it.

She tells her teacher thanks and opens her locker, as she did a piece of paper fell out, she watches as it lands on the ground and she picked it up.

A paper heart

She looks at it and smiles.

"Open it," Cal whispers and almost like she heard him through the loud and bustling crowd she opens it reading it.

A poem

Beneath Verona’s moonlit skies, Two hearts beat soft in love’s disguise. A whispered vow, a stolen glance, A fate entwined a fleeting chance.

O Juliet, my morning light, A rose that blooms in endless night. Your voice, a song, so sweet, so true, A melody the heavens knew.

O Romeo, my soul's embrace, A love the stars could not erase. Though walls may rise and daggers gleam, You are my life, my waking dream.

No name, no feud shall break our bond, For love defies what lies beyond. And though our breaths may fade to dust, In death, we love, in fate, we trust.

As she reads it, she just smiles and keeps the unraveled paper in her locker, she did know...her boyfriend didn't write this, hell, he barely did anything for her on Valentines Day, but it was nice to see someone cared.

"Hey babe!" Her boyfriend, Jake Preston, the schools famous jock, and most popular guy in the school, and Calvin's number 1 bully.

"Jake," she gasped.

"So, listen, I won't be able to hang out after school, I got practice but hey, we still on for V-day?"

"Oh that's okay, and yeah, we're good."

"Cool, I'll see you-what's that?" He points to the paper with the poem.

"Nothing," she shuts her locker. "I have to go to class, care to walk with me?"

"Sure."

Cal hated Jake with a passion, I mean who does like Jake? He's an asshole, a dick, and just a flat-out bully. Cal liked Y/n, but he didn't have the courage to speak to her, because of Jake and Y/n's friends.

Valentines Day

Cal had his backpack on and inside was a bear and a small heart box full of candy. He didn't know how to give this to her without a crowd drawing attention to them both. Cal hated the attention.

He sees her at her locker her friends next to her talking, but she didn't really seem interested in the conversation. Cal took a deep breath, he was going to walk up to her, and just hand them to her.

He moves his backpack over and dig for the items, but he bumps right into Jake, he knocked everything Cal had onto the floor.

"Jake-"

"Oh, look what we have here, little Calvin, who's this shit for?" Jake kicks the stuff that fell onto the floor. He turns his head seeing his girlfriend look at what was happening. "Oh, wait...was this stuff...for her? My girlfriend?" He says.

Cal just stays quiet as everyone looked at what was happening in the hallway.

"Baby! Tell this loser you don't want his gifts." Jake had so much power in this school, that if you define him, he could ruin your entire school year.

Y/n was at first quiet and looked at the items on the floor, if anything this was the most someone has given her, not even Jake has given her a stuffed bear and box of candy, maybe one measly rose that dies within a week.

"I...I am honored you wanted to give me these, but I am not interested," she says as she looks at Calvin, she feels bad for him, she knows he probably doesn't need her pity. But he just nods and walks away.

"Woah, woah, not so fast, nerd, we've got something special for you since you tried to give my girl some gifts."

"Jake, no please," Y/n begs as his friends held Calvin against the lockers and with people watching and cheering Jake on, Jake gave Calvin several blows to the stomach and face.

"JAKE STOP IT!!" Jake gives Calvin one more blow before a teacher came out, Jake's friends drop him and the students scattered.

Jake grabs Y/n's hand and quickly speed walked away from the fight.

"That was a rush!" Jake laughs. Y/n pulls her wrist out of his grip.

"What is wrong with you!!"

"What?"

"You didn't have to do that to him!"

"He was flirting with you!"

"If anything he was being nice, he was going to give me a gift, so what? It's the most anyone has done for me, you've never given me anything!"

"I'm taking you on a date, tonight, to a very fucking expensive restaurant and you want a gift from that freak!?"

"He isn't a freak, Jake, you're such an asshole, how could I've never seen that before! Take someone else, how about that girl that drools over you at your games? Huh? Take someone else! I'm not going and we're fucking over!"

"You're breaking up with me!?"

"Yes, and? I would rather be with someone like Calvin, then be with someone like you!" She storms off and saw that Calvin was being escorted to the nurses office.

She goes to her locker opening it and seeing the paper heart that Calvin, did for her, and she saw the items still on the ground from before. She picks them up and rips a page from her book.

She wasn't the best at origami nothing like Cal, but she turned that page into a paper airplane and went to the office.

"Y/n, what can I help you with?" The front office lady asked with a big smile on her face.

"Is Calvin up here?"

"He is...why do you ask?"

-------------------

Cal sat on the nurses blue bed, feet on the floor and he messes with his fingers, maybe he was wrong about Y/n, maybe she was just like everyone else.

A paper plane lands at Calvin's feet, he picks it up and unfolds it.

He had never known love not the kind that seeped into his bones and made the world feel softer. His life had been built on routine, on logic, on the certainty that love was for others, not for him. But then she arrived, laughter spilling like sunlight, eyes that saw him not just the man he presented to the world, but the one he hid beneath it. Her presence unraveled something in him, something he hadn’t realized was caged. It wasn’t fireworks or a grand revelation; it was quiet, steady, undeniable. A warmth in his chest, a longing in his hands, a certainty in his soul, he had found love, and for the first time, he understood what it meant to truly live.

"It's from my favorite book," a voice spoke from the door, he looks up not really wanting to, but he did.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"I'm sorry for happened in the hallway...I...I didn't know Jake was like that...he was a kind soul, but I see he never really was..." she walks to him and sit next to him. "How's...your stomach and head?"

"Hurts," he mumbles.

"I liked the poem you gave me." He doesn't say anything. "Are you...mad at me?"

"I just don't like you like I thought I did."

"I understand that...but please know...I did like the gifts," she pulls them out of her backpack. "They're a little damaged but...they're still nice. It's the most anyone has given me."

"Doubt it."

"Doubt it? Why?"

"You're popular...surely people have given you better gifts then I did."

"Jake doesn't get me anything but a single rose that dies in a week, and most people don't care, I'll usually get a 'happy valentines day' or a lazy card...but you gave me candy and a bear." She just smiles.

"It's nothing," he says.

"It's something to me."

The room just goes silent and Y/n stares down at Calvin's hand still holding the paper. She was hesitant but placed her hand on his. He doesn't jerk it back or tells her to stop touching him, but let's her.

She leans over and kisses Calvin's cheek before standing up to leave.

"If you...come by my house later tonight...my parents will be gone, but we can...I don't know, my dinner and watching movies if you want to. That'll be a better Valentines Day date then a restaurant."

She walks out of the office and Cal was just stuck...he didn't move, and his heart was quick in his chest. Thumping against his ribcage. His heart and chest felt like they were going to explode at any moment.

--------------------

Monday, February 10th, 2025

"Mama, I don't wanna go!" Y/n's 5 year old daughter, Emmy whines, she didn't want to go to school, but her 7 year old son, Reed was all set.

"Well, you don't really have a choice, baby," Y/n coos at her daughter.

"Sure, I do," she says.

"No, not really baby. Come on, let's get going." Y/n hurries her children into the car so she could drive them to school.

Once Y/n had them buckled up, she drops down her sun-visor to see what was stuck in her eye, and once she dropped it, a small piece of paper fell out of it.

"Mama, what's that?" Emmy asked.

"Oh, nothing," Y/n sticks it in her cupholder to read it later, but it was a paper heart.

She drives her kids and played some of their favorite songs on the way there.

"Mama, baby shark!" Emmy yells.

"No, we listen to it every morning, it's so annoying!" Reed whines.

"One more time okay?" Y/n says, as she plays it pulling into the school's parking lot.

Emmy was singing it till the door opened by a school employee and both kids get out.

"Bye, babies!" Y/n says.

Once they got out, Y/n grabbed the paper heart and opened it.

Hand in hand, through years we roam, Two hearts entwined, one love, one home. Through whispered dawns and midnight dreams, We stitch our souls in golden seams.

Your laughter rings, a song so bright, A guiding star in darkest night. Your touch, a fire, steady, true, A love that time cannot undo.

Through storms we’ve stood, through joys we’ve danced, In fleeting glances, in a single chance. Not just in vows, but every day, I choose you still in every way.

So here we stand, my love, my life, Forever yours, your faithful wife.

Another poem, this one was about a husband and wife, she smiles and sticks the paper back in the cupholder till she got home.

-----------------

Opening the front door, no sign of her husband, he must be still in bed. She giggles and heads upstairs where she was right. Her husband Cal was still asleep.

She gets on her side of the bed and moves closer to Cal, leaning over him, she moves his hair from his face, she gently caressed his cheek and kissed it.

"How'd you get that paper heart into my car this morning?" She asked, there was a smile on his face.

"I did it at 2 in the morning," he says.

"You sneaky, sneaky man," he cups her face and brings her down to kiss her lips.

"It made you happy didn't it?"

"It did." She smiles.

He sits up and pulls her closer, his lips on her and deepening the kiss. It became very heated and passionate. He pulls her on his lap, his hands resting on her waist and her arms wrap around his neck.

"You went...to the school...in your robe?" He teased.

"I have pajamas on," she giggles.

"That one teacher wasn't there...was he?"

"Not that I could see."

Calvin hated this one teacher, he was old enough to be the kids grandpa, but he loved to hit on Y/n, not in some old man flirting, but in he would like to have someone young like Y/n in his bed every night, and Calvin hates it.

"Doesn't he...have a wife?"

"M-Maybe."

Calvin placed Y/n on her back and pulls her pajama pants down.

"No panties either, risking."

"It's not like I have to get out of the car, besides, I'm not the only mom who shows up in pajamas."

"No, but I bet they wear panties."

"Not like you've ever complained before," she teases him.

"You're right, it just gives me easy access."

He spreads her legs, pushing them to her chest and immediately licking his lips, he leans his head down and starts licking between her folds and then sucking on her bud, she lets out a soft moan, her hips leaving the bed, and her fingers getting tangled in his hair.

His hands held a tight grip on her thigh, her knuckles turning white as she grips the bedsheets. She opens her eyes and sees him shake his head while his tongue quickly moves back and forth, like he was hungry.

His left hand then moves to inside his pajama pants, pumping himself a few times before sitting up and pushing himself inside of her. Her head goes back and she was trapped between his hands and the bed.

Him thrusting into her hard and rough and almost at an ungodly speed. She was bouncing on the mattress, her breasts wanting to pop out her thin shirt.

Cal took it upon himself and just ripped the thin shirt, earning a soft moan from her as the cold air hit his nipples, making them stand.

Cal could feel himself about to cum, so, he starts slowly down, giving a few more thrusts he ended up coming along with Y/n, her head goes back as she let's out a few more moans.

Cal bends down and kisses both her boobs and then kissed under her chin, making her look at him, and soon his lips were on hers.

"Best morning," he says, she giggles and holds him close. "I need a shower," he pats her thigh. "Care to join?"

"Yes," she says, and with ease, Calvin stood up Y/n koala bear hugged him the whole way to the bathroom.

-------------------

Friday, 14th (V-Day)

Calvin gave his daughter a box of chocolate and a stuffed dog and gave Reed a new video game and stuffed bear.

He gave Y/n one of the best gifts, a bouquet of roses, box of chocolates, while Y/n and Calvin were in their bedroom, door closed and locked, and Y/n was giving Cal a fashion show with some lingerie she had picked up a few days ago just for Cal.

He sat back on the bed, staring at the bathroom door that was closed, he was only told by Y/n, she had a surprise for him once the kids are in bed.

"Hon, come on, now." He hears a giggle from the other side of the door and the door finally opens, she stood in a fluffy robe, and he just smiles.

"A robe?"

"Hang on now," she teased, she turns her back to him and slowly removes the robe, she let's it fall to her feet, but Cal was just staring at her bare ass on full display, she turned around to him and now her bare breasts were visible.

"Holy shit," he mumbles.

"Do you like it?"

"Love it honey, not like, love," he says, jaw on the floor, and she starts walking to him.

"You can't destroy this one."

"Destroy, when have I ever destroyed any of your sets?"

"A lot..." she says, giving him a bit of a serious look.

"Okay, okay," his hands traveled up her body, feeling the lace under his hands and parts of her bare body. He gets to her boobs, face going between them, kissing them both while his hands go to her ass giving her a nice squeeze.

"Holy fuck..." he curses under his breath taking in her scent. He stops and pulls away from her making her a bit confused, he hands her something.

A paper heart.

"One more for the night," he says.

It looked plane, but she opens it and just simple 'I love you' was written on it. She smiles, getting on top of him, arm wrapped around his neck and kissed his lips, his hands resting on her waist.

The kiss was heated and Cal fell back while Y/n was still above him.

"I love you," he repeats.

"I love you too," she pecked his lips.

-----------------

Calvin fell on his side of this bed, while Y/n held the blanket to her chest.

"Fuck..." he mumbles.

"Thank you for my gifts," she tells him.

"Thank you for mine," he chuckles giving her ass one last smack.

Cal looked at her as she snuggled closer into his chest. "I'm glad you came around."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like when we were in high school...after...what happened...I for sure thought you'd hated me..."

"I couldn't...it wasn't your fault that day..."

"But I was a bitch-"

"No, you weren't." He cups her face. "Listen if you wouldn't have come to the nurses office, and talked to me, I probably would have hated you, but...you came and talked with me, you invited me to hang out with you, and then we dated...got married, have two amazing like ones...would you rather have this life with me or have it with that asshole?"

"I wouldn't have forgive myself if I just left you in the state you were in, but I love this life more then anything," she says, cuddling almost impossibly closer to Cal.

"Exactly." He wraps his arms around her and held her tight. "Get some rest." As he said that soft snores were heard from Y/n, he just chuckles, he turns to turn off his lamp and hold her back in his arms.

[quinloki]

Valentine's Drive

Marco x fem!Reader

9,303 words

summary: Marco wants to do something special for Valentine's, and so he decides to take you with him on one of his longer country drives.

CW: bondage, dom/sub, reader calls Marco master, mean-ish Marco (he is trying to be nice), dildo, anal plug, bullet vibes, overstimulation, forced orgasms, edging, orgasm control, outdoor sex, temperature play, gag, risking being caught/seen, prep, anal sex, vaginal sex, close enough to proper procedures for safety and sanity - I didn't have to, but I did enjoy grounding it, begging, crying, mdni

TL;DR - I did not hold back, enjoy.

It was your first Valentine’s together. Neither you nor Marco put a lot of stock in the holiday itself, but he said it was a good excuse to have fun since you were both off from work that day. The night before you’d packed an overnight bag, and gone over to Marco’s townhouse. It was closer to his job, and unlike his family’s home, it wasn’t constantly packed to the gills with dozens of brothers.

You’d both taken it easy that evening. Marco had made an easy dinner and you’d snuggled on the couch for a few hours watching campy movies before going to bed.

One of the things that prompted the two of you to start dating was that you were both into kink and bdsm. Outside of a session he was sweet, tender, and attentive. During a session he was firm, controlling, even more attentive, and terribly, terribly mean. His sadistic streak matched your masochistic one almost perfectly.

The first time you begged him to go harder than he’d ever been able to go before he’d made you cum so many times he had to call off work for both of you and take care of you the next day. It was intense, but by that point you trusted him implicitly. He wasn’t afraid to push your limits, you weren’t afraid to communicate them, and spring, into summer, autumn, and now winter.

When you woke up on Valentine’s day, Marco brought you breakfast in bed. He sat and talked with you about light topics so comfortably you weren’t sure it wasn’t his plan to do so all day. Once you were done with breakfast he’d finally admitted to the scope of his plans for the day.

For the next hour or so he got you ready for what he had planned. Prep was clinical, and after having gone through it a few times with him, it was automatic for you. The first few times it had been terribly embarrassing, and Marco had even done it “in scene” to help ease you through it. It was, after all, much easier to obey than volunteer when someone wanted to give you enemas.

Adventurous as you both were, the dynamics of your relationship were dictated by a choker style necklace you both referred to as ‘the agreement’. The black band with it’s small silver bird was simple enough to go with pretty much anything, and understated enough to not be immediately obvious as a collar in public. Though, you did have a few of those.

Outside of a scene you were equals. Partners in crime. There was give and take, and compromise, and hard conversations. Everything that life had on offer.

Within a scene it was different. The agreement was that Marco was the authority, and the balance to his absolute authority was your ability to determine when you were in agreement or out of it. In a way, you had all the control, because it was your trust that conferred that authority over to him.

Clean inside and out, Marco dried you off, brushed your hair, kissed your skin, praised anything and everything about you he seemingly could, and pulled you into a hug while on his knees before you. His chin was between your breasts, his hands on your back, and the warm smile on his face was already making your body heat up.

“I feel like you’re trying to butter me up,” you admit with a smile, brushing his hair back before kissing his forehead.

“It’s going to be a long session, yoi.  I just wanted to make sure you were in a good place before we even started.” He hums, kissing your tummy before looking back up at you. “I want to take you on one of my country drives.”

“Three hours along the back roads during winter? There won’t be many cows or horses out to pasture.”

“Nope, not too many other people either. The roads are clear, but most people don’t do the long drive unless it’s nice enough to roll the windows down, yoi.” He smiles, kissing between your breasts. “Though you might ask me to roll them down anyway.”

“What do you have planned, Ma~aster?” You sing the word, taking a step back.

Marco doesn’t let you get far, his hands pulling you back to him, turning you around so you’re facing the mirror while he talks. His hands are firm and almost rough against your skin. You’re both pushing the edges of a session without having officially started it yet.

“I’m going to stuff my sweet bird full of toys,” he begins, his middle finger slipping between your labia and teasing your folds. “Wrap her up in ropes, and let her wear a coat if she behaves, before I set her in my passenger seat and go on a nice long drive, yoi.”

You put your hands over your face, widening your stance to give his finger better access as the heat rolls through you.

“Oh that sounds wonderful,” you try to say the words with confidence, but the idea of it, and his finger are already making your voice shiver.

“Go put on the agreement, and sit pretty for me, and we’ll get started.” He says, pulling his hands away from you and swatting your ass gently.

You head off into the bedroom with a little more pep in your step than you think Marco needed to see, and pull the simple black choker from the box on your dresser. After getting it clasped into place you get down on your knees on the floor, setting them open with your feet together and tucked under your ass. Leaning back you put your hands on your heels.

The position put you almost fully on display. The only way you’d be more exposed would be if you laid on your back and pulled your ankles up to your shoulders. As Marco would say, something that revealing wasn’t for you to control, so of the different ways you could sit - proper, pretty, humble, or apologetic - that just wasn’t one of them.

Proper was similar to pretty, except your knees were kept together and you put your hands in your lap, instead of behind you. Humble was face down, ass up, with your hands on your ankles. It was uncomfortable if you stayed that way too long, and since it was usually a punishment you often stayed that way for long stretches of time while Marco did as he pleased.

Apologetic was a full and proper kowtow, and if you had time whatever you were wearing was folded neatly around you. You’d only done that one a couple times as practice.

After a couple minutes Marco comes into the room with a box. You can see the coiled rope peeking out over the side and press your lips together in anticipation.

“Good girl,” he hums and you feel your body throb. It wasn’t fair the effect he could have on you so easily. Setting the box neaby he crouches down in front of you. His hand at the back of your neck steadies you as he presses two fingers into your pussy.

Whining you rock into the action and help him get deeper. His thumb presses into your clit as his fingers scissor inside you. You were wet before he really even started, and it barely took a minute for him to make messy sounds with his fingers. You kept your hands on your heels, opening your mouth just before he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Look at you.” The smile on his face is dangerous. “Needy, but you’re trying so hard not to be greedy.” He pushes the wet fingers against your tongue and you clean them up happily. “Well, I suppose I could be… nice, for today.”

“Maybe.” He adds quietly, moving his fingers away and pulling you into a kiss. His wet hand teases your nipple while he dominates your mouth. You can barely keep yourself in place, moaning into the kiss, your body trembling from the attention. Even unbound you felt helpless when he did things like this. It was divine.

Leaning back, he holds you in place for a moment, giving you a chance to steady yourself before standing up.

“Up.” He commands, and you get yourself up onto shaky legs. Your knees are a little red from having knelt on the floor, but he didn’t leave you that way for long, so they’d clear up. “Put your hands on the bed and your ass in the air. I’m going to get the plug in first.”

You do as instructed, and Marco comes up behind you working lube into your ass before you have time to anticipate the action. It’s cold, and you gasp, but you don’t squirm away.

“You’re darling little pussy is dripping, so I’ll get the rope harness started before I stuff that hole, yoi.” He explains, working your ass open as you try to stay quiet. He is being nice, he’s not teasing you and edging you, he’s almost being clinical like he was with prep.

You weren’t entirely sure if that was a good sign or not, as yet.

“Alright, talk to me pretty bird, let me know if it hurts.” Marco pushes the tip of a plug into your ass, and you nod. It stretches, eases up, stretches more, eases up, and you realize he’s working the big, long, bubbly plug that wriggles and vibrates into your ass.

“Oh gods.” You murmur the words as it stretches again.

“Too much?”

Shaking your head you push back against the toy. “No, no, sorry sir. I just… realized what it was.”

“Ah.” Marco pushes it in a little faster, getting two bumps in at once and making you moan despite your efforts. “Thinking about it wriggling around for a two hour drive, hm?”

You nod as the last bump is pushed in and the flared flange rests against your ass cheeks. The full feeling was already a lot and you were just getting started.

“Alright, straighten up, put your feet apart wide enough I can reach for the ropes, yoi.” He commands.

You straighten up slowly, it always feels weird with the toy inside you, and put your feet a little more than shoulder-width apart. Marco works quickly and quietly. Sometimes when he ties you up the process of tying you up is the point, and he can easily spend nearly an hour or longer if he gets into really intricate work and poses. Today, however, the tying was functional, and not the main focus, and so he worked quickly.

He folds your arms under your breasts, tying them in place and checking to make sure the tension is right as he works. Even though he’s being efficient, he’s still so close, his breath breaking against your skin, the heat of his fingers trailing over you. It was hard not to get worked up.

Marco tugs on the ropes between your thighs, pulling them loose when he’s getting close to being done.

“Alright, now I can put this in and you won’t drop it a dozen times, yoi.” He teases, holding up a vibrator you’ve had inside you for nearly a full day before. Even with the plug it should be fine to use during the car ride without getting uncomfortable.

He gets it lined up, pushing it in slow and steady.

“You’re so wet it’s already dripping off the bottom.”

“Haaa, don’t… don’t say that, it’s -!!” Your shivering voice is cut short as he shoves it the rest of the way in. Letting out a shallow quavering breath you thank your own lucky stars you didn’t cum from that. One of the fastest ways to get punished was orgasming without permission. Something Marco definitely abused, and you happily let him.

“Mmm, a little less good girl, and a little more lucky bird.” He muses, putting the crotch ropes back into place and tightening the lines, keeping the plug and dildo neatly in place. You nod, your face goes red as he begins to tie your thighs together, just above your knees.

“Now we get you dressed enough you won’t freeze during the stops.”

“We’re… not staying in the car?”

Marco smiles his dangerous smile. “It’s going to be a long drive, you’ll need to stretch a couple times at least, pretty bird.”

That’s complete bullshit. Marco wrapped you up like a mummy and left you immobile for six hours one day. A couple hours in the car was going to be nothing, but you weren’t stupid enough to risk your “nice Marco” possibilities by asking bratty questions right now.

He got you into some thigh highs, pulling them up under the ropes and letting those hold them in place since you weren’t wearing a garter belt. He put thicker socks on over those, and boots on after that. You were a little worried he was going to just trot you outside and to the car in nothing but snow boots, but he only stopped dressing you because he “forgot” some of the accessories.

“These little guys can be taped here.” He hums, putting small bullet vibrators on either side of your nipples, taping two against each one. “And this one,” Marco pulls a larger, almost egg-sized, vibrator out and nestles it against your clit, letting the crotch rope from the harness hold it in place. The added size of the egg pulled the harness a little more snug, but not uncomfortably so.

You were certain Marco had made accommodations for the added mass while tying you up at the start of things.

He then puts your winter coat on you, draping it around your shoulders and buttoning it up. He put the sleeves in the pockets, and it almost looked like you had your hands in your pockets, and were wearing, possibly, a knee-length skirt. The interior of the coat was silk-lined and was cold against your skin for the moment, but it was already warming up.

Marco tilts your face up with just a finger under your chin, and you can feel the heat in your face.

“How’re you doing, pretty bird?”

“Gah-green, I’m…” You take a moment to collect yourself as the vibrators on your chest come to life. “Green!”

“I think you really like where this is going, yoi.”

Nodding slightly, you look away. It’s almost dizzying the blood rushing to your face. “Little nervous, but… I know I’ll be safe with you.”

“Good girl,” he praises quietly, leaning down and kissing you. This kiss is gentle, a soft pressure against your lips as the vibrators against your nipples stop. “Alright, let’s get you in the car. How well can you walk?”

You test your range of motion carefully, taking very tiny steps at first until you sort out how much range of motion you have. You smile sheepishly, and realize Marco’s doing his best not to laugh at you. Even at the best you look like you have to pee.

“Well, if someone asks, you took a fall and are worried about falling a second time, yoi.”

“If-.” You pause. It wasn’t that Marco was intentionally going to parade you around people, but you were going to be outside, and people were also outside. Better to have a story now. No one wants to deal with the police because some concerned, well-meaning, citizen worries your partner is abusing you. “That works.”

Smiling, he sticks his thumb out toward the garage. “Start waddling your way to the car, pretty bird, and I’ll get my coat and the remotes.”

“Yessir.” You almost grumble the words, holding back your tone as you carefully walk toward the garage. You get about halfway there before Marco scoops you up and over his shoulder. You moan as the movement makes the toys inside you shift, and his hand squeezes your ass in response.

He opens the car door and carefully sets you inside, watching to make sure that the toys inside you don’t poke anything uncomfortably as your position changes.

“Good?”

“Yeah, uh, mostly. Not back - eep!” You were explaining you weren’t back in the seat enough when Marco adjusted you.

“Better?”

“Y-yes,” you did appreciate his powers of observation, but sometimes you wished you could keep up. He checks a couple more things, making sure you’re settling in well, and then buckles you in.

Marco gets settled into the driver’s seat, checking on you one last time before he turns all the toys on low.

“Still good?”

Letting out a shaky breath you nod your head. Everything is wriggling or vibrating, but nothing is pinching or causing discomfort.

“Perfect. Ah, one more thing.” Marco pulls a gag out of his pocket. It’s about as thick as a standard ball gag, but it’s got three inches of length shaped like a dick. Just long enough to press against your tongue, just short enough to avoid risk of you gagging on it. After he gets it clipped into place he puts a single use flu-mask over it.

“There, now you’re all tucked in.” Starting the car he pulls out of the garage and onto the road. Once he gets rolling he puts his hand on your knee. You’re acutely aware of the heat of his hand, the texture of his palm against your skin, and the fact that his hand is sliding up.

It doesn’t take much to expose the ropes around your thighs, since they begin just above your knee. Objectively, you know no one can see into the car at that angle. Certainly not on most of the roads you’ll be on, since country roads are barely ever more than one lane on each side. But you can’t deny that your heart is beating faster.

For a few minutes he just leaves his hand there, rubbing your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly as he drives you both out of the city. The vibrators meander to the background of your mind, Marco’s hand occupying the forefront. When you stop at traffic lights he slides his hand up your thigh far enough to loop a finger through the crotch rope, tugging at it a little and watching you struggle to keep your composure with cars nearby.

You know no one is paying attention to you, but it feels like everyone knows. You’re sure the people next to you know you’ve got a gag in your mouth, that you have ropes against your skin. You’re certain some trucker will come along and realize you’re naked under your coat.

Once you clear the city and get onto the country roads, you realize that Marco’s hand was much safer on your thigh than not. When he moves it away the vibrators start to shift.

The little bullet vibes against your nipples get stronger and start fluttering in different patterns. More than the vibrations themselves it’s the way that the difference in patterns makes it feel random. It’s hard to know which side is going to do what, and that uncertainty makes the teasing even better.

“Mmfh,” you squeak against the gag, trying to stay quiet.

“We’ve barely gotten into the country and we’re already picking up my favorite radio station,” Marco hums. The bumpy plug in your ass starts to shift and you tense, moaning again. You’re grateful for the cloth mask, even more than hiding your gag from the passing traffic, it was helping to hide the expressions on your face.

“Almost there, just a couple more adjustments, yoi.” The dildo in your vagina vibrates on a low frequency and starts to shimmy slowly inside you. You’ve barely adjusted to the plug in your ass and before you can even settle with the dildo the egg against your clit hits a fever pitch.

The powerful vibrations against your soaking clit surprises you, and you nearly scream, moaning loudly against the gag. The strong vibrations retreat to a low setting, and Marco sets them to a rhythm different from the two settings teasing your chest. Whimpering, you shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable despite the sensations.

His hand’s back on your thigh, pushing your coat’s hem up and rubbing just above where the thigh high stockings stop. You’re not moaning, but the toys have you breathing heavy against the gag, the odd muffled sound breaking against the gag when something sends a shiver through you.

“There we go.” He hums, eyes on the road. “Be careful not to cum without permission, pretty bird.” Marco warns, rubbing your thigh. “Would be a shame if I took that mask off, or revoked your coat privileges.”

The threat goes straight to your core, and suddenly all the toys are bothering you even more than before. It was difficult to say if Marco’s threats were empty or not. You knew he wouldn’t get the two of you arrested, but he probably would risk an awkward conversation with police if people filed reports.

Every stop light or stop sign, Marco’s hand would leave your thigh and change the settings of one or more of the vibes. If you stopped struggling, he’d adjust the toys. If you managed to shift in a way that gave you relief from something he’d tug on the ropes and readjust how things were settled. He didn’t hurl you toward an orgasm without giving you permission, but he didn’t let you have a moment’s peace.

As mean as he could be, he was still possessive and careful. One of the traffic lights put you next to a big long-haul truck. They were rare on the country roads, but even farms needed large deliveries or pickups. The trucker’s elevated position could give him a view into the sedan, and Marco had pulled your coat back over the ropes on your thighs, and made sure the coat was snug around your neck.

Once the truck was gone he unbuttoned the top buttons of your coat, and put his hand between your thighs, pressing the egg vibrator into your clit.

“Mmmfffh! Mmpphh!” Marco had unbuttoned enough to expose the rope harness at your neck and chest, but nothing truly indecent. The sudden exposure and the pressure of the egg vibrator made your heart race after almost thirty minutes of edging. “-‘ease, eeeaaaase,” you whine the garbled word, desperate for either permission or mercy. Shifting in your seat you moan and whine, letting the broken begging words out as Marco made no move to give you permission, or to show you mercy.

By the time he eases up on the vibe the lack of tension is almost worse. The vibrator is tickling your throbbing clit and you’re nearly in tears trying not to cum. Without his hand on your thigh you can adjust a little bit more and find some relief before you can’t take it anymore, but your body is on edge.

“We’re at the first stop.” He announces, pulling into a small park. The parking area is plowed, but between the empty lot and pristine snow it’s obvious no one else is there.

After parking and turning off the toys, he comes over and gets you out of the car. Standing you near it he has you move and stretch, helping you bend back and just having you stomp your feet. He checks that nothing’s going numb, the ropes aren’t biting anywhere, and once he’s sure you’re okay he picks you up princess style.

If anyone else were around you’d be worried about how the position has your privates almost on display, but you feel like Marco would keep you from being spotted even if the place was practically packed. He kisses your forehead as he carries you through the snow. It’s barely two or three inches, just enough to make a soft crunch and leave footprints with each step.

When he gets to a picnic bench he sweeps the snow off and sets you on it. Your coat is keeping you from sitting directly on the frozen wood, but you can feel the cold starting to creep in.

“I bet the reception here is perfect.” Marco hums, looking down at you as the vibes on your nipples whir back to life. “Don’t you think so, little radio?” He questions, the egg against your clit starting to shiver harder and harder. You moan softly, the break you got was enough that you’re not at the edge anymore, but you’re still riled up.

The vibes in your ass and pussy come to life, and the vibrations are loud - or louder than they were in the car. They’re vibrating against the wooden picnic table and it sounds louder than you expected. You look up at Marco in concern but he just turns them up. It only takes him a moment to have everything going. Different patterns for the ones on your chest, the dildos making a racket against the table are squirming inside you on top of vibrating, and the one at your clit is going as hard as it can.

“Sing well, little bird,” he commands, unbuttoning another button on your coat. You’re moaning and whining, squirming as he does as he pleases. Despite the cold you’re warm, the blood rushing through you at all the stimulation. “There you go.”

Marco’s eyes linger on you, but you see him looking around as well, ensuring you’re as alone as you thought you were. He unzips his pants, and starts palming his erect cock. Every minute or so he unbuttons another button on your coat, working himself up and reminding you not to cum without permission.

You aren’t sure which is more embarrassing, your own moans that are getting louder and more desperate as your body starts to tense, or the sounds of the vibrators beating against the picnic table. It felt like everyone in the county knew what you were doing.

Undoing the rest of your coat buttons he opens it wide, and you squeak, shaking your head. He takes the cloth mask off and pulls the gag out of your mouth, leaving the saliva-slicked device against your neck. Grabbing the back of your head he pulls you close, almost kissing you, but not quite.

“Please, Master-.”

“Color,” he husks, his own voice coming out in a breathy command.

“Green-yellow, green,” you say, moaning as the toys make your body shiver.

“You can cum after I cum on you.” Marco instructs, kissing you deeply for a second. Leaning back he looks into your eyes. “Don’t you dare stifle your song, pretty bird.”

You nod, eyes transfixed on the leaky tip he’s pumping with his hand. You wanted it inside you. Your mouth, your ass, your pussy, you didn’t care. You were hungry for him, and it was terribly cruel of him to show you what you wanted and not even let you touch him.

“Please, please,” you beg, you can feel yourself getting close, but you’re not even begging for your own release. “Cum on me, please, sir, please.”

“You want me to mark you, pretty bird?”

“Yes, please, cover me, master, please.” You beg, your mouth open, your tongue out. He’s not even going to finish on your face, but you can’t help yourself. The toys are hazing your mind, your own orgasm drawing near and you need more of him.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, hot spend splashing on your chest and stomach. Milking himself he cums on you as much as he can, and then grabs the coat, pulling it down and leaving you exposed before he grabs the back of your head and presses the egg into your clit.

“Cum.” He commands. “Sing for me right now little snow bird.” He growls the command, kissing your neck and holding you still as the orgasm races toward its peak.

Your body shivers against the rush of pleasure far more than the brisk cold. The vibrators against your nipples are almost biting against the stiff flesh, the vibrators buried inside you are sloshing wetly from your arousal, battering against one another and competing with the egg that pushes you quickly over the edge. Marco holds your head back so you can’t bury your lips into his shoulder, forcing you to wail your whorish moans out into the air.

You couldn’t hold them back if you wanted to, and you didn’t want to. You wanted to sing for him like he commanded. The keening cries turns into desperate shivering gasps, the sweet rush of release chased relentlessly by the manic toys beating against your body. Marco nearly pushes you into a second orgasm, bringing the vibrations down slowly as he watches your trembling body carefully.

“Much more and you’ll cry, yoi.” He hums, turning each toy off before pulling the coat back up and buttoning it in place. “Can’t do that on the first stop.”

“Haaa, that’s… this is… fuck.” You gasp, your voice shivering from the adrenaline. A nervous laugh dots your broken words and you smile at Marco before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“We’re just getting started.” He promises you. “Hang in there, sweet little bird.”

You nod, and he picks you up, carrying you back to the car. Once he gets you settled into your seat he puts the gag back in place, and the cloth mask over that. After he buckles you in he turns all the toys back on and turns them up to full. The brief break was enough to take the edge off of the earlier almost-overstimulation, but that’s kind of the problem.

Your whole body is tingling and there’s no rhythm or break. You want to ride the dildos inside you and cum, just to get it over with, because the vibrations are keeping you wound so tightly, but as Marco gets in the driver’s seat and puts the car back on the road, he doesn’t turn the vibrators down.

Moaning and panting through the gag, you wiggle and squirm and beg and plead as best you can for him to turn something down, anything. You’re going to cum and you’re not going to be able to stop it, but all he does is tap the tip of your nose and remind you not to cum without permission.

“Ah don’ ‘anna ‘um!” You beg, throwing your head back and trying to shake off the building pleasure.

“Then don’t cum.” Marco says easily, and you growl in frustration. You catch the smirk on his lips and whimper. “If you can make it to the next stop you’ll be rewarded.” He says.

“Ow ‘ong?” You ask, trying to shift enough to at least get the damn egg off your clit. The rest can almost be relaxing, especially since there’s no random pulses from the vibes teasing your nipples.

“Mmm, about twenty minutes.”

“’ENTY ‘INUTES?!” You weren’t expecting him to pull into the next empty lot, but that was a lot longer than you thought you could last.

“Well, now it’s forty. Want to complain more?” His face is smiling, but his tone is warning. You don’t play the brat with Marco much at all. Every once in a blue moon you like to push back, but more than anything you love to just fold in his hands, whatever shape it is he’s going to put you into.

“… ‘orry.”

His hand is on your thigh. “Hang in there, yoi.” Marco hums the words reassuringly, but his hand’s off your thigh within a couple minutes and all four of the bullet vibes against your nipples are set to different patterns. Even worse than the first time.

You try not to growl at the new predicament, but you can’t suppress the strained whimper. On top of all the sensations, his cum is drying on your skin, itching and catching against the cool smooth silky interior of the coat. It’s a new sensation on top of everything else and the more there is the less you can defend against.

Fifteen minutes and you’re doing good - or were. There’s a new problem.

Stopped at the train tracks there’s a long shipping train going by. It’s been a good two minutes already and there’s no end in sight.

“Just not your lucky day, is it, pretty bird?” Marco questions, and the rest of the vibrators start to writhe and shiver in patterns. Whimpering you try to shake the building pleasure away, but his hand on your thigh is limiting your motion, and pressing the egg into your clit more than the ropes do by themselves.

“Ease ‘emme ‘um!” You beg, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He’s watching the train as you thrash in the seat, completely unconcerned with the car behind you. “’Eeeeeaaase!”

“It’s not a matter of permission,” Marco says, turning to look at you. He wipes the tear out of the corner of your eye and gives you an apologetic look. “You have to make it to the next stop, pretty bird.”

“Ah, but this might be prudent.” He reaches over, taking the gag out, and pulling the mask back up over your nose. “This way if you need to call out a color it won’t get lost in the gag.”

“Please, Marco, please I’m gonna - I’m not going to be able to hold it back! Mercy!”

“Using my name, pretty bird?” He says icily.

“Master! Master, I’m sorry, please, I’m - shit, shit, I’m not going to be able to! It’s too much!” You whine, trying to wriggle away from his hand on your thigh, but it’s no use. You can’t leave the car in the first place, even if you weren’t tied up, Marco’s hand would be able to reach whatever it wanted.

“Maybe you’re overdue for a proper punishment.” He hums.

You don’t really hear him over your own struggle. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna - I can’t!” Your body tenses and you shudder against the vibrators, cumming hard. Biting your lip you growl, squirming inside your ropes as the orgasm you fought against claws through your body.

“Sorry,” you gasp, panting heavily as you start to come down from your high. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t - hnnngh! - please, I cah-can’t.”

“Shhh, shhh, you’re alright pretty bird. Just because you’re going to be punished doesn’t mean you’re doing bad.” He says soothingly, getting you to nod. “Hang in there, yoi.”

“Haa- yeah, I… please, the toys, Mar— Master, please, fuck!” You squirm, the relentless toys sending thrills into your sensitive skin harshly on the heels of the orgasm. At this rate you’re going to cum again.

“Oh, well, since you couldn’t hold it, now you get to cum until we get to the next stop. Over and over.” Marco puts the car into drive as the last car of the train passes by and the barriers lift, letting you continue on your way.

When he drives over the tracks your eyes roll back and you nearly orgasm again. You’re trying to desperately control your breathing so you’re not getting lost in too many orgasms, but it only takes five minutes for the next one to rock your world. Marco is relentless in keeping the egg against your clit, changing up the patterns and intensities as he drives, keeping you from being able to get used to any one particular set up.

At the third orgasm you’re sobbing, drooling, nearly growling swears as the pleasure circles around your bones. He’s made you cum back to back before, but never during a long session like this. It was cool in the car but you were starting to sweat from the exertion. There’s no pretense of trying to hide what’s going on, and if you weren’t tied up as much as you were you’d probably look like you were possessed.

“Gods-Fucking-Ass! Again, not again, shit, shit,” you squirm, hips bucking into his hand. “My ass, my ass, hhnnnnnnngh- it’s not-from-my-cunt-it’s-my-ass!” Growling you clench your teeth for a second as your body tenses from the anal orgasm and you start grinding into Marco’s hand. “Good, I’m good, I’m good,” you gasp the words because Marco was checking in on you between orgasms.

Your hair was sticking to your skin from the sweat and exertion. Your sounds were coarse and thick, pleading whines were more directed at yourself since Marco had already told you he wasn’t going to show you mercy until you reached the destination. If you really couldn’t take it you’d give him a color, but as much of a trial as it was, the orgasms were melting your mind and it felt amazing.

You were going to pay for them, you were sure, but you also knew that Marco loved the sounds you made. Whether you were begging, crying, or cumming at the top of your lungs. As long as your sounds, concerns, discomforts, pleasures and pains were his fault he was satisfied.

By the time Marco pulled into the next destination you were at the end of what you think you could take. The toys had been turned off, but your body was still twitching. Tears were drying on your face and you weren’t entirely sure how many times you’d cum, but you knew Marco kept watch over you, even while he’d been driving.

“How are you doing, my love?” Marco asks softly, his big warm hand cupping your cheek and pulling your gaze over to his.

“Good, m’good.” You mumble in response, nuzzling into his hand. “Lil’ yellow, maybe gimme a minute.”

“Of course. You need anything untied or removed?” He questions and you shake your head.

“Nah… no,” licking your lips you give him a weak, but genuine smile. “How long have you been planning this?”

Pink tinges Marco’s cheeks as his expression softens even more. “Years. Just…  needed the right person to come into my life, yoi.” He explains, brushing sweaty hair off your face.

You can feel the heat rushing into your face, turning enough to hide in his hand. You hear him chuckle before he leans over and kisses the side of your face, getting you to stop hiding in his hand and letting him kiss your lips again. The sweet action sends the heat in your face back down into the rest of your body, warming you through and through.

“Ready?” His hooded gaze feels like it’s diving into your soul, and you nod shyly. “Good.” He kisses you deeply, tongue pinning you to the car seat, hand against your shoulder until you’re moaning into the kiss.

Getting out of the car, Marco gets you out again, this time putting you over his shoulder after removing the gag and mask from around your neck entirely and leaving them in the car.

“Oh no this is Whiskey Point.” You whine and Marco squeezes your ass.

“It is.”

Whimpering, you have a pretty good idea of what he’s going to do. Whiskey Point is notorious for the echo that rings out from it. School kids, usually at the start and end of the semester when the weather is really nice, come through as part of class field trips and shout their echoes into the air, giggling over all sorts of shenanigans.

To mark the best spot for this phenomenon, there’s a sturdy wooden lectern with a plaque on top that explains the point’s pleasures.

“No one’s going to know it’s you.” He says in what you suppose is meant to be a reassuring tone, as he sets you down by the lectern. He sweeps the snow off the stand completely, before taking your coat off of you entirely. Laying the silky interior of it down on the snow, you fidget and whimper, but now’s not the time to be asking questions or complaining.

Lifting you up he sets you, face down, on the cold stand.

“Cold!” You cry out involuntarily, flushing as you hear your voice flit over the landscape.

“We won’t be long, yoi.” He promises. “Count, pretty bird, loud as you can after each one. If you don’t give me your best shout I’ll have to come up with an additional punishment.”

“Yuh-yes sir.” Your breasts are cold, and so are your arms, your back, your ass, your legs - even the parts of you that aren’t pressed into the lectern are exposed to the cold air. You’re not sure if you’re shivering in nerves, anticipation, or because of the cold directly.

Marco’s hand lands sharply against your ass and the resounding clap almost sounds like a gunshot. You wait just a second for the echo to give you space and shout after it as loud as you can.

“One!” the word bounces around like the slap and you’re not as cold as you were before, embarrassment heating your body a little.

Another sharp crack, this time on the other cheek and you shout a count after it. Anyone within hearing distance is going to start putting two and two together, and anyone who knows will know what’s going on.

The third slap already stings, Marco’s not being gentle because time’s limited. By the tenth slap you know your ass is red, you can feel the sharpness of the sting, and the heat of your own skin from the strikes, but the whole situation is an intense turn on.

You moan. Loudly.

“Oh?”

“T-TEN!” You stammer, squeaking as Marco turns you over on the lectern. The cold wood feels wonderful against your heated ass, and you sigh in relief as he pulls the knot loose that’s holding your thighs closed.

Tucking the egg vibe into his pocket he cuts the crotch rope, and tosses the dildo into the snow. He takes a quick minute to work the anal plug out of your ass, tossing that into the snow too. You moan, softer this time, from the sensation, gasping as he grabs one of your ankles and forces your legs open wide.

“Wh-what are you doing?” There’s a focused look on his face, and while you trust him, you aren’t sure what he’s planning to do.

“Testing something, yoi.” With a practiced movement, he swings back and slaps your soaked pussy the same way he’d been slapping your ass.

The sharp clap isn’t as loud, and you’re sure he held back at least a little bit, but the snappy sting, the weight behind it drives right into your body. It hurts, sure, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure that rolls in behind it. The impact might not have echoed nearly as loud, but you moan in a way that more than makes up for it.

“Fuck,” you husk, body shivering for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold. “D-do that again, please.”

Marco’s brows raise and he smiles. “Not out here, yoi.”

Pulling you off the lectern he picks up your coat, shakes it once to dislodge any actual snow and puts it back on you. The interior has been made frigid, and you gasp at the sharp cold, whining and wiggling as he buttons you up. It’s part of the punishment, but also the cold does feel nice against your backside at least.

With your legs untied, he gathers the toys he tossed in the snow, the discarded bits of rope, and puts one hand on your shoulder to help you stay steady as you both walk back to the car.

“How’re you holding up? Still yellow?”

Shaking your head you smile as you get situated into the car seat. “Nah, I’m green. That was… unexpectedly invigorating.”

“Not much of a punishment then?”

“I did not say that.” You pout. “Feeling like someone had to have heard all that just… turned me on more than I thought.”

“Mm, well, we can even things out another day, and see just how much that pretty pussy of yours likes being slapped.” He declares, stealing a kiss as he buckles you into your seat and shuts you in. You’re already warming up the coat again, and you’re starting to get more comfortably warm.

Marco pops the trunk, tossing the items that are out of play into the back before getting into the driver’s seat. Without your thighs tied together, Marco’s fingers play in your wet folds ruthlessly. Anyone who can see his arm probably knows what he’s doing, and without the mask and gag there’s no way for you to hide your face entirely.

After your punishment you don’t dare to close your legs, you’re just grateful your coat is on and buttoned up fully at this point. Moaning and pleading with him within the confines of the car feels more private after you were screaming your head off at the echo point, and while other traffic is in the back of your mind you don’t really care about it.

“So nervous at the start, and look at you now.” Marco hums the words before plunging his fingers inside you, making you buck and cry out. “Being such a good whore.”

“For-for you,” you husk, rutting your hips into his fingers, your eyes are closed and you’re focused on the hot pleasure of his fingers.. “Juh-just for you, Muh-master, just a whore for you.”

“No one else.”

“No one else,” you repeat. “Un…. Unless you…” You can feel your face heating up, embarrassment rolling down your shoulders as you shrink into the seat. Marco’s fingers have stopped, and you don’t need him to tell you what it means. “I’d let you, you know, share me, if you wanted.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and you aren’t sure if you said something that was going to kill the rest of the session, but his fingers start moving again.

“You trust me that much, yoi?” You nod in response and he pulls his fingers out of you, putting them in your mouth. Licking his fingers clean as you drove down the road was the right kind of embarrassing. “Mm, maybe when the weather’s warm we’ll go back to that park bench. Can tie your pretty ass up on the table, face down on the bench and let any brave passerbys that approach use you.”

The idea makes you clench and you moan against his fingers. The warm chuckle you hear from him is a good sign and while you’re sure you’ll be talking details and limits later on, right now it’s fun to just sink into the fantasy.

You lick up the length of his index finger. “I don’t need anyone else but you, just so we’re clear.”

“I know, pretty bird.” He hums in response. “I do like the idea of getting to watch you.” He turns your head toward your passenger window and you see a young, wide-eyed guy at the wheel, face flushed red, looking back at you. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out as the light turns green and Marco turns down a different road.

“His friends are never gonna believe him.” You muse with a grin.

Marco smiles, rubbing your thigh. “Ready for the last stop, pretty bird?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, opening your legs and letting his hand wander where ever he wanted it to.

Marco drives for another half hour. When he asked his question you thought he was close to the stop, but as time carries on you can feel the anticipation knotting inside your stomach. He teases you, turning the vibes on your breasts off and on, fingering your pussy randomly, making you sit so it’s obvious that your legs are open, even if no one else can see inside.

By the time he pulls into a place you’re nearly in a trance, desperate for release, frayed from the length of the session and tense from trying to figure out what he’s going to do. Marco talks to you when he opens your door and it takes you a moment to focus on his words more than just his voice.

“With me yet, pretty bird?”

“Y-yeah,” you hum, leaning forward and nuzzling against his face.

“Good girl.” He praises quietly, kissing your cheek while helping you out of the car. “This is going to be intense, so don’t be afraid to call a color, even if you need to jump straight to red. I won’t be mad.”

“I know.” You answer as Marco presses your chest to his, reaching around and spreading your ass cheeks. You’re standing in the cold with him, but your backside is still to the car. You’re a little more aware now, but nuzzled into his chest you don’t know where you are.

He fingers your ass, adding more lube to what was already there from the toy. The action is sweet and pleasurable and you moan and whine softly into his chest. The toy’s been out for a while, but it had you loose and warmed up for long enough it doesn’t take him long to get you back there.

Marco undoes your coat again, this time setting it in the car before grabbing you by your rope harness and pulling you away from the car with ease, especially since your arms are bound he tosses you face-first into a pile of snow. You yelp in surprise from the action, and then cry out from the sudden cold of the snow against your bare skin.

Before you can do anything Marco’s on top of you, pushing his rock-hard cock into your ass roughly. It stings, despite the prep, but the stretch, the heat of him against you, the desperate need that had been building in your body since he started prepping you that morning was coming to a head.

You moan deeply, and Marco’s hands are on your shoulders, pushing you into the snow as he sets a heavy pace, fucking your ass for his pleasure more than yours.

“Cold it’s cold!” You cry, breath being shoved from your lungs with each slap of his hips into your ass. “C-cold, but- but it feels - Ah! ♥ - good! So fucking good!”

“Cum if you can,” he husks, grinding into you. His pace has slowed a little and he’s hitting all the places he knows you like. As harsh as the cold is, it’s nothing compared to what the situation and Marco are doing to you. “You’re clenching down so sweetly, pretty bird.”

“Don’t say that, don’t it’s - hah - embarrassing! I’m,” Marco grabs your hair, lifting your face away from the snow. You still can’t see anything but snow, and you moan as the vibes on your chest turn on. “Fuck, fuck, Maaaa-aster, I’m-.”

“Cum for me,” Marco commands, nipping at your ear. “I’m going to stuff ice cubes up your cunt and fuck you, look at you, loving this cold so much. Fill the tub full of ice and leave you in there until you start to turn blue, let you get to shivering so bad my touch feels like fire.”

“Gods, hnnnnnngh, no, no, please, I-!!” Your feet kick in the snow as your body tenses and you cum. Your pussy flutters against nothing, ass throbbing against his cock, the initial rush stole the air from your lungs, but you breathe in and cry out. The sound is desperate and guttural, clawing its way up from your lungs only to be shattered between your teeth as they clench against Marco’s continued thrusting.

You’d be clawing at the snow if your arms were free, but in a few more thrusts he’s driving you into the snow again pounding heavy in your ass. He feels hot, unbelievably hot and is throbbing deep in your ass, and the contrast is driving you mad.

“Hang in there, pretty bird.” He says, pulling out of you and rolling you over. Marco switches condoms so fast you wondered idly if he practiced just for this, or if he was always so quick and you just never had the focus to notice. The sharp cold of the snow on your back, however, was keeping your mind focused in the here and now, despite the lingering euphoria of your earlier orgasm.

He grabs your ankles and presses the back, folding you in half as he pushes easily, and deeply, into your pussy. Gasping, you moan, throwing your head back into the snow as he presses you down and hilts inside you. Soundly pinned all you can do is whine and moan with each deep thrust.

Every time you try to speak he kisses you. If you needed to call out a color you could scream it into his mouth, but you let his tongue shatter your words as his cock melts your mind. You’re going to cum again, your throbbing cunt was hungry for something after he made you orgasm from your ass and you were already sensitive from all the teasing and spanking of the day.

The only sounds you made that escaped Marco were your moans. There could be a crowd for all you knew, but you didn’t care, let them hear what he did to you.

The building pleasure is soft despite everything surrounding it. The build is inevitable, but your body is too tired for much more at this point. Garbled thanks bubble up in your mouth only to be devoured by Marco as your eyes roll back, and you spasm against him. He lets the babbling moans go, licking and nipping at your neck and collarbone. He fucks you through the orgasm, heavy, bruising thrusts pushing the air out of you and keeping you on the edge of pleasure until you’re whining and squirming beneath him in overstimulation.

You can’t stop the sob as your addled and abused body begins to overload.

“Please, please I can’t - can’t cum again, please, I’m begging,” you sob. Your tears are hot against your cheeks, more so because of how cold your body was. “Please, master, please.”

“One more, pretty bird,” he commands, words and lips sinking into your skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“Can’t,” you sob even though you can feel the tension in your thighs again. “Can’t, please, please just use me, and c-cum, please.” Your voice cracks between sobs and Marco kisses you, grinding into your clit and bullying himself as deep as he can.

“Fuck,” he husks, breaking the kiss and putting his forehead against yours. “Just like that, you’re so perfect for me,” he practically growls the words. “Crying so beautifully, you’re making me cum, pretty bird.”

His words go straight to your cunt and you cry. “No, no, I’m gonna - gonna!”

Marco grunts, snapping his hips roughly a few times as you cum with him. “Just like that, good girl.” His words sink into you with the euphoria of the forced orgasm and you can’t really hear or feel anything except for him.

-:-

-:-

The last orgasm had all but shattered your senses, and you were only vaguely aware of the ride home. Marco took care of you, talking to you the whole drive back home, which was short, since he’d been slowly circling back toward it the whole time.

He sat and soaked in the tub with you until you were both pruny, after he’d gotten you warmed up thoroughly and washed. You’d come around entirely by the time he was showering with you, and were able to lean against him and relax in the tub. You two talked about the session, things you definitely wanted to do again, new things you wanted to be able to try, and when Marco teased suspending you from a tree and leaving you in the snow you didn’t argue against it.

The most embarrassing part of the entire thing was the next day, when Marco brought you the newspaper during breakfast, pointing to something he’d circled.

MISSED CONNECTIONS: To the girl good at counting on the peak during Valentine’s; I’da given you ten more at least ~_^

[sugarandstars-x]

i’m still caught up on the fact that bluepoch actually had my favs interact,, the prettiest women you know are best friends

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

"i mess up things and then i don't have the energy to fix them up" yes brain true sentence but no brain the appropriate response is NOT "therefore i should kill myself (and here's how)"

[blujayonthewing]

thinkin again about the time elyss's DM cut in to stop a conversation between her and a semi-retired player character to hurriedly take back control of him as an NPC before he could give her, as an extremely kind and thoughtful gift, one of his own personal belongings, and then said 'elyss can probably buy it from him though :)' instead

like. what an egregiously fucking shitty thing to do, actually.

[exopelagic]

i said i wouldn’t do it this time but it’s 3am and mods asleep. boy

[pepprs]

prefacing this by saying im fine and its whatever and im mostly numb to it. but it kinda fucking sucks that being gaslit about my own sexuality leads to… doubting my own sexuality lol!

[fellhellion]

my hubris is always trying to tackle all thirty thousand of my character thoughts in one fic

[leidensygdom]

Please be aware that the "opt-out" choice is just a way to try to appease people. But Tumblr has not been transparent about when has data been sold and shared with AI companies, and there are sources that confirm that data has already been shared before the toggle was even provided to users.

Also, it seems to include data they should not have been able to give under any circumstance, including that of deactivated blogs, private messages and conversations, stuff from private blogs, and so on.

Do not believe that "AI companies will honor the "opt-out request retroactively". Once they've got their hands on your data (and they have), they won't be "honoring" an opt-out option retroactively. There is no way to confirm or deny what data do they have: The fact they are completely opaque on what do they currently "own" and have, means that they can do whatever they want with it. How can you prove they have your data if they don't give everyone free access to see what they've stolen already?

So, yeah, opt out of data sharing, but be aware that this isn't stopping anyone from taking your data. They already have been taking it, before you were given that option. Go and go to Tumblr's Suppport and leave your Feedback on this (politely, but firmly- not everyone in the company is responsible for this.)

Finally: Opt out is not good under any circumstance. Deactivated people can't opt out. People who have lost their passwords can't opt out. People who can't access internet or computers can't opt out. People who had their content reposted can't opt out. Dead people can't opt out. When DeviantArt released their AI image generator, saying that it wasn't trained on people who didn't consent to it, it was proven it could easily replicate the styles of people who had passed away, as seen here. So, yeah. AI companies cannot be trusted to have any sort of respect for people's data and content, because this entire thing is just a data laundering scheme.

Please do reblog for awareness.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

What if They were Dads?

SUMMARY: Headcanons of what I think they would be like as fathers to your child. And what if his dormmates were like honorary uncles to the child?

CHARACTERS: OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia)

TAGS: Headcanon; Fem!Reader (AFAB) (I never really know what tags to use but I hope you know what I mean)

WORD COUNT: An average of 690 words per character.

COMMENTS: I would have liked to have made a headcanon about the relationship with the boys' parents and siblings, but since we don't know them that well or at all on the Eng Server like Vil's father, I think I'll leave that for a possible post that complements this one. If you want.

Since I didn't want each character to have a big chunk of text, I put them as paragraphs instead of bullet points.

I hope you enjoy 🩵

CONTEXT: This was written with a cisgender female reader in mind. Reader is Yuu. But if you want (and can) read it in any other way, feel free to.

By the way, this is one of those moments when I wish English had a second person plural, instead of the singular and plural being the same. Whenever I write “your child” I mean it in the plural (you, the reader, and his)

Riddle’s child(ren) call him: Father

Riddle has the same demands and standards for his child that he has for himself. But he doesn't want to make the same mistakes as his mother, so in comparison he can be more permissive. Because of this he will ALWAYS listen to you if you tell him he is being too harsh.

In terms of studies, etiquette and behaviour he is quite strict as you would expect. But when it comes to play he lets his child do almost anything they want.

He doesn't know how to play with his child, but he will always make an effort to learn how to and do it with them. He almost seems to regress to the childhood he never had and wants to give to his child. Whenever the child learns a new game, they will show it and teach it to Riddle and he will be delighted with it.

Although he is strict, he is also relatively protective, especially if your child is a girl. He tries not to be overly protective, but he can't help but worry about your child. If there was a right way to raise a child, is he doing his job well enough? You will have several conversations at first to reassure him that he is doing a good job.

He will study any and all parenting books that experts in child behaviour and education recommend. This kind of knowledge is never too much. Which often leads you to try to convince him to relax and just trust his instincts and what he feels is right. The child is his, not all those authors and experts. Sometimes there are things that a parent simply knows.

Lawful and calm Uncle Trey. They love uncle Trey's sweets! Sometimes Riddle asks him if he's not giving them too much sweets and Trey always assures him that it's okay because he knows how to make healthier sweets and the limit for a child to eat. If they weren't already Riddle's child, the whole thing about always brushing their teeth could be scary.

Chaotic Uncle Che'nya. The crazy and fun Uncle! Your child and Che'nya join forces (maybe even with you) to play pranks on Riddle. Never anything that could get the child into trouble with their father, just enough for everyone, Riddle included, to have fun.

Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce are more from your side than Riddle's honestly. Ace is a bit like Che'nya in the case of being one of the chaotic pranksters uncles. But he is also the uncle of magic tricks who is always deceiving, but also entertaining your child with them.

Deuce is the rad uncle with a cool moto and/or even cooler blastcycle, who offers to take your child for a ride in it with him. Your child also finds it funny to see the two of them arguing amicably. But it’s even funnier to see them imitating their father trying to order them to stop arguing.

Uncle Cater doesn't show up very often, but they like him. He's not chaotic like Ace and Che'nya, but he's also fun. Your child enjoys receiving compliments from him and taking pictures with him.

Your child imitates their father scolding Grim too. Just like Riddle (and probably because they're still little) they have a very bad temper. Riddle gets embarrassed whenever you say that someone takes after their father.

Leona’s child(ren) call him: Dad

Leona still doesn't like kids... your child(ren) is/are just an exception.

Yes, Leona would treat a daughter slightly differently than he would treat a son. In the same way that he treats men and women a little differently. But the only difference is that he would be tougher on a son than a daughter, but will still be affectionate regardless.

No matter what gender his child is, he wants the same for them: be strong both physically and mentally. To outsiders like some servants or citizens who don't know him, they may get to the point of thinking Leona is a harsh father who doesn't deserve all that love from his child, and he will tell both you and your child not to mind that. But the truth is that he is just like he was with you at school: a tough guy who hides a caring heart.

Leona continues to show himself to be a person who doesn't want anyone to upset him and who would growl at anyone who bothers him. The only people who can get close to him even when he's angry and remain safe and sound are you and your child. He'll still growl at you and your child quietly, but there will be a volume that is the line, like if his growl is louder than that limit it's because he's getting really angry, until then it's just him being him.

Your child will already have the best private teachers and tutors (one of them being Kifaji/Neji if he’s still alive), but even so, Leona will want to make them study and learn more. But in that discreet way that he knows. He will not force them to study more, he will find a way to convince them to want to learn more on their own.

You end up being the most affectionate parent and the one they trust for emotional comfort. Leona is the tough love, you are the soft love (at least in comparison). Leona will always tease you, insinuating that you are too soft and only spoil your child. Although he enjoys when you spoil him too.

He is 100% the ‘Go ask your mom’ kind of dad.

He lets his child take naps with him. And you too.

If he has more than one child, he will police himself not to favor any of them. He may have a tendency to favor the younger ones because of what he went through as the youngest himself, but none of his children will be treated in any special/different way based on their birth order. Neither the youngest nor the oldest.

He will try to convince his child not to be too close (emotionally) to their uncle or cousin, but won't stop them from playing with Cheka. When your child is old enough not to tell others what is said in your home, Leona and them will talk badly about Falena and Cheka behind their backs.

Leona will prefer your child to play with Ruggie and/or his children. On the one hand, he wants to keep them away from his family, but on the other hand, he also wants his child to know what the real world is like, to see both wealth and poverty, to know royalty as they knows their people and only then create their own judgement.

They don't call anyone uncle or aunt other than Falena and his wife. In the same way, Leona also doesn't give cute titles to anyone without being sarcastically. Even when he calls you “love”, “darling”, “honey” or something like that, it's to tease you.

Whenever you go to Shaftlands, whether for democratic reasons or on holiday, you always try to find a way to meet with Jack. Leona pretends that he only helps you with this because you want to see your friend and he wants to get rid of his family. Both you and Jack know that he just doesn't want to admit that he wants to see him too. Jack is the cool parent's friend who taught your child how to snowboard. While they are little they like to hug his tail because it’s fluffy.

Despite everything, he doesn't want his child to have the same lack of hope that he has, and despite trying to hide it, he always feels extremely guilty and bad whenever your child says something like that. At these times he relies on you to be the ray hope in that house, they will both need you for that.

Both Leona and your child are afraid of you when you get really serious or angry.

Do you know that scene from The Lion King where Mufasa uses Zazu to give Simba an pouncing lesson? Leona often does something similar, but instead of the target being a blue bird, it's a magical creature called Grim.

Azul’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Azul is an extremely emotional father, despite trying to hide it. There's going to be a lot of moments like: “HE/SHE IS THE CUTEST LITTLE THING IN THE WHOLE- *clears throat* I mean, he/she is such a charming little child.” He will most likely cry at your baby's first words, steps, anything.

Azul is overprotective! If any living creature even thinks about harming your child, he will tortu- that is, find a completely legal way to ensure that it never happens again. Now, if you'll excuse him, he suddenly felt like talking to Jade and Floyd. (The same protectiveness applies to you.)

Although he is very (secretly) emotional and loves to spoil his child, he is also relatively strict about their studies. He likes to spoil them (and you) when it's deserved, but he will not raise a spoiled child! This ends up balancing things out a bit.

He will hide the whole mafia-like part of his life from his child. Dad is just doing business, boring adult stuff. Maybe when your child is older he will start to reveal a little of that side of his life, if they later want to join their father it will be their choice. But until then, let them be innocent children, they are cuter and happier that way, there is time for everything.

He will always hold back his emotional side so as not to be overly affectionate. Unless his child starts crying. At that point his mask falls completely and he becomes the most affectionate and comforting father there can be, that is his weakness.

And if one day the child realizes this and starts using crying to get what they want from him, he won't know whether to be angry that he is being emotionally manipulated by his own child, or proud that they learned so quickly.

You will be the only one immune to the fake crying.

From the beginning, Azul has been wary and suspicious of letting Jade and Floyd be like uncles to your child. However, you two ended up letting this happen, but Azul will always keep an eye open.

Both Jade and Floyd will definitely use the child to play pranks on Azul. Mostly Floyd, Jade prefers to watch and assist. Azul will always be upset with the twins, never with his child. And depending on the severity of the prank, he will turn on his overprotective side and threaten Jade and Floyd that if that happens again they will never see your child again. They never go beyond that limit.

Every now and then when Floyd plays with your child, he will do that joke where he playfully tells them he's going to catch them and bite them. Actually in his playful voice, he doesn't want to scare them. And they will run to Azul and hide behind his legs asking for help while laughing. Or tentacles if they are in their merfolk form.

You know those little plastic cashiers where kids pretend to have a little shop and try to sell things to people at home? Usually parents or sibling. Azul loves to play this with his child because it is a great and fun way to pass on his knowledge. Both about sales and about taking care of your money. Usually using the Grim as a guinea pig. Grim also likes to play because he always ends up with food in exchange for toy money.

If you ask them Jade is the scary uncle (only sometimes) but they themselves don't even know why. It's just his vibe or something. However, they are not afraid to ask any of them for something, it being to play or for help.

Jamil’s child(ren) call him: Dad (in informal moments) and Father (at formal events)

Jamil needed to learn to express himself more and better emotionally so as not to end up being a cold father without meaning to. He needs your help to teach your child when to hold back and when to know when they are in a safe space to let go.

The only thing that will follow Jamil forever is an inevitable feeling of guilt for your child having the same fate as him, simply for being his child: serving the Al-Asim family with no other choice. But you can be assured that if there is a way to stop this and give his child freedom of choice, whatever that method may be, he will not give up until he finds it and do it! Normally parents want to give their children what they always wanted and could never have, in Jamil's case it’s freedom.

There was something Jamil wanted to do, but he didn't have the courage to ask the Al-Asim for some kind of vacation. But you had! Using your great friendship with Kalim, you managed to get him to allow you to take a vacation long enough for you to travel as a family, as Jmail wanted. Jamil has always wanted to travel alone, but now with you and your child he would like to travel as a family and give his child the experiences he would have liked to have had himself.

He is quite demanding with his child's education and training. However, his attitude towards this is always calm and collected, and he is attentive to his child's limitations and needs. He is a great and responsible tutor, who knows how to distinguish between being a teacher and being a father.

He is usually quite serious, so you and your child are the ones who start messing with him to have fun and make him laugh. It's always nice when he reminds you two that he can also be a tease. Normal or biggest target of your joint teasing ends up being Grim at some point.

During his work as Kalim's servant, Jamil always had to cook a lot and he's not that big a fan of cooking, so so he can rest at home you're the one who cooks most of the time. He will teach you everything you want to learn and at first you will cook together a lot until you feel comfortable cooking alone. But even then he will continue to offer to help you. Your child will continue to say that Jamil's food is tastier, but yours is prettier. And the food you make together is the best because it’s tasty and pretty. Jamil will also encourage his child to cook with you two so that they can learn from a young age.

His child knows that there is only one thing in this world that can make their father scream in fear: Bugs! If your child is also afraid of insects, you're screwed, because you will be the insect killer in that house. However, if it is just the two of them, Jamil's protective instinct will be stronger and despite his fear he will protect his child. If your child is not afraid of insects, then Jamil will have two protectors. “Can you do dad a favor?”; “Where is it?”; “Living room, south wall last time I saw.”; “Does it fly?”; “...Yes.”

Kalim will treat your child almost like one of his own children, for loving you both so much. He got emotional when he found out you were pregnant, he wanted to help pay for your doctor's appointments if necessary (never was), and he got emotional again when your child was born. He loves buying toys for your child too and give them gifts. He would love for Jamil to let them call him Uncle Kalim. And he loves it when your kids play together.

Vil’s child(ren) call him: Father 

Vil wants to have a family that is at its best as he likes to be at his best himself. He wants you and your child to be as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside, just as he strives to be as well. However, he would treat a daughter slightly differently than a son because of the different pressures of societal beauty standards.

With a son he would be as strict with him as he is with himself. But with a daughter, he knows she's more likely to suffer from these kinds of things. So although he continues to be relatively strict and wants her to be the best she can be, he ends up being softer with criticism and stronger with praise and soft love than he would be with a son.

He would hire a specialist, like as a child psychologist or something like that, to always know the best ways to rise and protect your child. Children of famous people like him, especially in the digital and social media age, may need more protection from their parents in this regard, in addition to the toxic pressure of comparison that exists. However, because Vil cares so much about your child's personal development as their happiness, he may end up putting enormous pressure on himself to be a perfect parent too.

Both Vil and your child will need you to be the person who brings them both back to the real world and the life of a loving family with flaws like any human being. Vil will always listen to you if you feel he may be being too harsh and demanding with your child, or with himself in terms of parenting.

If you are the type of person who likes to tease Vil by letting yourself be sloppy from time to time, (always at home) then your child will also like to tease their father like that. “You have your mother’s cheekiness, I see.” Vil sighs but laughs. The teasing includes eating sweets and food that Vil would not approve of. You are the parent they ask for things from and who best comforts and pampers them. You two probably team up to make Vil relax and have fun with you.

His child will have the best teachers and tutors, go to the best schools and best establishments for any extracurricular activity they want to have. Vil will probably force them to have an extracurricular activity but they will be free to choose which one.

Rook is OBSESSED with your child! In a respectful way of course, he is just already a huge fan. The result of combining your DNA with Vil's? MERVEILLEUX! He won't hold back the tears when he sees the baby for the first time. He will LOVE playing with your child. He will babysit for free and will be happy to do so if you ever need. It will be a long time before he stops getting so emotional whenever your child calls him "Uncle Rook."

Uncle Epel is the rad uncle, when Vil is not around. He is that person who will help your child do cool activities that Vil may not allow. Like taking a blastcycle ride with him, eat grilled meats, playing with things that make the child very dirty or other things that Vil didn't like Epel to do when they were at NRC. But if at least one parent allows it (you), then there is no problem. Right? All this, of course, when Vil is not around.

When he is there, both Epel and your child behave like little angels. You and Epel have to be very careful that the child doesn't get careless and say something in Epel's dialect in front of Vil. They love Uncle Epel because it is fun to do cool things without their father knowing and with your help.

Your child likes to use Grim as a doll to dress up in cute clothes. The funny thing is that Grim likes it too because your child eventually realizes that if they tell him he looks cool instead of cute, he'll let them keep dressing him up.

Idia’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Idia doesn't believe he can be a good father. A shut-it and antisocial otaku like him? Are you crazy? That's a disaster! He can't take care of himself, how is he going to help you raise a child? However, and especially with you, he also has that overly cocky side that believes that even being an antisocial nerd he would be 1000 times better than a lot of parents out there. So basically he has a tendency to oscillate between these two moods.

In comparison, you are the strict parent, he is the parent who spoils the child. They are both afraid of you when you get upset. He's a ‘Don't tell your mother’ type of dad. He can't say no to his child, but, oddly enough, he can't be emotionally manipulated either. He may even let his child do a lot of things, but even he has limits to what he knows is good or bad for them.

Because he's the permissive father, he's also the scariest when he gets serious. He can never get really mad at his child, but he can say a firm and assertive “No” if necessary. However, if they are still very young and start crying, he will panic and call you immediately. You will then have to comfort Idia and tell him that no, he did not make a decision that put him on the path to the traumatic and apocalyptic ending. What he probably did was the opposite.

If it depends on him, his child will be a nerd/otaku just like his father. However, he doesn't want them to be socially anxious like him and will always encourage them to go for walks with you outside even if it's without him. That doesn't mean there aren't times you drag him outside with you.

Besides occasionally questioning whether he is being a good father, there is something else that haunts him... He still carries and will probably always carry the feeling of guilt for what happened to Ortho, so he is absolutely TERRIFIED that something like that may happen again.

Idia has always tried to keep your child as far away as possible from all areas that are dangerous or even remotely similar to the hallway where that happened. But if your child ever happens to even enter an area that their father did not allow, they will get to know a side of Idia that sometimes you yourself don’t even remember exists: The overprotective, traumatized side that isn't afraid to scare his child if it means keeping them away from the danger. And probably the only way they'll see his red hair. But it will probably be after that, that the two of you will have an open heart conversation and Idia will apologize.

Now, about Uncle Ortho, they LOVE uncle Ortho! He's the one who goes for a walk with you and your child when you and he can't convince Idia to go too. He is a cheerful uncle who loves to play with your child. You three made up stories to explain why uncle Ortho was a humanoid. You always make up different and crazy stories to jest with them and make them change the subject. The day will come when they will be old enough to know the truth.

Idia may even talk badly about himself a lot of the times, but no matter what his child do, they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular and everything good. “Of course that's because they inherited it from you, not me.” He will say with a smile.

Both Idia and your child treat Grim like a pet cat and find it funny to see him getting grumpy.

Idia spoke to his child in that baby voice when they themselves were also babies. And maybe also when they are children to the point where they tell him to stop treating them like babies.

Malleus’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older) Father (at formal events)

The day Malleus found out you were pregnant was already a happy day, but the day your child was born was the happiest day of his life! And every moment with them is the happiest moment of his day. And of course with you too. He totally and completely loves his family!

Anyone who dares to speak ill of the child of Malleus Draconia, especially about the fact that they are half-human, will suffer the consequences! Anyone who spoke openly about the child being something of a disgrace, shame or an abomination was either killed or imprisoned. (Depending on how opposed you really are to Malleus killing or ordering someone to be killed.) and of course, the same applies to talking bad about you.

The problem is that this is doing the same thing to your child that was done to him. He's scaring everyone and making them afraid to come near your child for fear of saying or doing something that might upset them or Malleus. He listens to you and agrees with you, showing concern and thoughtfulness about what should be done. He hates people being disrespectful to the ones he loves, but he also doesn't want his child to go through what he went through.

What ends up happening is that, on Malleus's part, he realizes that he has to start learning ways for people to respect his child without using fear, but to do that he also has to start letting certain insults slide. He doesn't like it, but if it's what's best for his child, he'll do the best he can. Although the same applies if they disrespect you. He hates it so much!

In the case of your child, you are helped by Lilia (if he’s still alive), Silver, Sebek and their families. Perhaps trying to spend more time among their people and with other fae, humans, and half-fae might be beneficial to a child's social development.

Lilia would treat the child as if they were his own grandchild. Even if Silver also has children, they are ALL Lilia's grandchildren! “There's no denying it any longer... I am... officially... an old man... For the best possible reasons!” Everyone will rescue your child from Lilia's food. “Never eat anything that Grandpa Lilia cooks, you hear?”

Silver is the calm uncle who, despite not being the most fun to play with, is the one they turn to when they want to rest and simply have a good chill time. Or take a nap. Probably who they turn to to run away and hide from Sebek when he's being annoying. He ends up being the adult (than is not their parents) that they trust most and feel most comfortable with. Silver is very happy when they ask him for help to get closer to an animal to see it better, and even more so if they and the animals end up interacting and playing with each other.

Now about Uncle Sebek... If there is anyone more protective and flattering of that child than Malleus, it is Sebek. He cried when the child was born, for sure. And cried even more when the child said his name, or whenever they at least tried to. The day they called him "Uncle Sebek" he was about to have a heart attack. The problem is that he ends up being one of those type of person who adores children (although in his case the only ones he likes would be Malleus's and his own children) to the point that the child finds them annoying and clingy. “But don't tell Uncle Sebek that, he'll be sad.”

Whenever the child throws a tantrum that ends up causing their powers to manifest in storms or uncontrolled magic, Malleus will take care of it while you stay away and safe. To him, any attack would be mere tickling, but he always made sure that your child knows that the same does not apply to you. They may end up thinking that you are very fragile while they are little, but it is better this way to ensure that they do not hurt you unintentionally.

This also means that whenever you need to say ‘No’ to your child, Malleus will do it if there is a possibility that they would start throwing tantrums. At least while they are young and cannot control their powers well.

Malleus also runs the risk of being a father who spoils his children.

Your child and Grim probably burn a lot of things around the castle because they play together and they both have fire powers.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

And if you would like to read this but with other characters you can write in the comments. If this post has a lot of notes (likes and reblogs) I might consider making a second part with other characters.

[snowballseal]

How they react to you feeling insecure (LaDS)

Summary: How the Love and Deepspace boys react to you feeling insecure about various things. Includes Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, and Xavier. Lots of fluff.

Word Count: they're all around 1000 roughly

Note: Warnings of different kinds of insecurity, ranging from physical to mental. I'm not sure of how well the Xavier one turned out, he's harder for me to write, but I couldn't leave him out!!! Anyways, hope yall enjoy!

Rafayel

His ended up being a lot longer, so it's posted separately.

here

--

Sylus

Being partners with Sylus is a…daunting position to be in.

You always considered yourself a fairly average person, more focused on who you are than what you look like. It’s not that you don’t like the way you look - you do - and you don’t like comparing yourself to anyone, but you don’t plan on being a model anytime soon. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Then you met Sylus, a man who looks like he was carved from the marble of ancient architecture. He could stand in a room of masterpieces and people would still look at him instead of the art. And since you’re by his side now, that means they’re also looking at you.

Being stared down by wanderers in one thing. Being stared down by the most powerful and prevalent members of the N109 Zone? You hate to admit that it gets to you. In fact, it gets so under your skin, that even when you’re dressed in the most extravagant dresses and decadent jewelry, you can’t help but feel…insecure.

Twisting in front of the mirror, you eye every detail of the dress Sylus bought you. It’s perfect, of course. The man has an annoying knack for getting you the most beautiful things and knowing exactly what fits you. The color compliments your hair and it’s comfortable to boot.

Still. You can’t help but feel like a kid trying to fit in at the adults table, wearing your mother’s heels even though they don’t fit. A bit ridiculous.

“Do you not like it?” Sylus appears behind you, dressed in a matching, lavish suit. 

You jump a little, eyes flicking up to meet his in the mirror. His eyes burn into you, reading the hesitation on your face as you curl your arms around your stomach. There’s no fiery retort or witty comment like usual. You just look back at your dress, the tips of your ears tinging pink.

A frown pulls at Sylus’ lips, his voice softening, “What’s wrong?”

“...Do you really think people believe us? That we’re together?” You ask quietly, shuffling your weight back and forth. “That I’m a good match for you?”

You’re keenly aware that you’ve never had a conversation like this with Sylus. For the most part your relationship has been filled with teasing and playful bickering. It’s always light. Or about work. This is new, and while you trust him more than anything, you hate not knowing how he will react.

Sylus hums, low and thoughtful, as he curls his arms around you, “Does it matter to you what others think?”

You let out a sigh, leaning back into his touch thankfully. You want to say no. You want to keep up the air of confidence, but that quiet voice of doubt keeps worming its way through your thoughts.

“I just…I feel like I’m not what people expect. And…” you try to explain, hesitating. Sylus presses a kiss to your shoulder, offering a hum of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you add, “It bothers me. It feels like I’m being forced into the spotlight but I’m not meant to be there. Like I don’t fit.”

“Hmm, so you feel like an odd duckling.” You give him a small jab, and Sylus chuckles. “My apologies. I think you misunderstand the attention though.” He pulls you closer. You shiver as his lips trace along the crook of your shoulder, pressing delicate kisses up the side of your neck, until he can murmur lowly into your ear, “You’re too humble, kitten. When you walk into a room, all eyes turn to you, not out of judgment, but out of jealousy. Afterall, you’ve tamed the leader of Onychinus. Even if you walked in with your uniform, they’d look at you the same. And I get the pleasure of walking around with the most powerful-” He presses his lips to your jaw. “-beautiful-” His lips trace against your cheek. “-woman of Linkon City. Don’t let the attention of those lesser than you make you doubt, otherwise I might have to find another way to show them just how well we fit together.”

Sylus’ eyes catch yours in the mirror again. They’re dark, like coals surrounded by flickering cinders. So intense you can almost feel the flames licking along your skin. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he’s being genuine. And that sets your heart racing. Along with the way he holds you so close, equal parts possessive and reverent. Like worship.

“Your devotion might scare some people, Sylus,” you whisper, glancing sideways at him.

He flashes a dangerous smile, “Does it scare you?”

You cast one final glance at your reflections before turning around in his hold and curling your arms around his neck. Sylus raises a challenging brow.

“I’m not. I like how you stand up for me, even when it’s against my own insecurities.” You draw him down, pressing a kiss to that carnal smile. Sylus softens immediately, cupping your jaw to draw you into a deeper kiss. The warmth that simmers in each and every touch leaves you a little breathless when you pull away. Pressing against his chest before he can drag you in again, you make sure to say one last thing, “Thank you, Sylus. I’ll make sure to remember all of that…especially the part about you being wrapped around my finger.”

“Hmm, such a cruel mistress, indeed.”

“And you love me.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, “Yes, I do. So, will you accompany me to this auction now?”

---

Zayne

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m going?” You ask, voice wavering with nerves as you straighten Zayne’s tie for him.

“Isn’t it natural to bring one’s partner to these kinds of events?” He tilts his head, brow perked ever so slightly.

You nod, but can’t seem to erase the frown on your lips.

A week ago, Zayne had asked if you would accompany him to his medical school’s class reunion banquet. He had been asked to give a special word, given the reputation he had developed in his time at Akso Hospital, not to mention winning the Starcatcher Award for his work.

At first, you were ecstatic to have an opportunity to learn more about his old life. He has such a thing about living in the present, you hardly get to hear any stories about his time in med school, or when he was doing rotations at the hospital. You were eager to meet the people who he used to spend time with and hopefully catch a few stories you could tease him with later.

But as the night drew closer, you started actually thinking about all the people you would be around, all of whom graduated from the same medical program Zayne did. You can only imagine how smart they all are. And how you’ll get lost the moment any medical jargon comes up. 

The more you think about it, the more nerves you feel buzzing under your skin. You know you’re not the smartest, not compared to Zayne at least. He’s a genius, after all, and could probably outsmart most anyone. You’ve always been better at the physical stuff. That’s what makes you such a good pair. 

It’s not like you can impress everyone by whipping your gun out and fighting, though. All you’ll have are your words, and you’re not particularly good with those…

You blink when a large hand suddenly circles your wrist. Glancing up, you find Zayne looking down at you, brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“While I appreciate your attention to detail, I believe you’ve been straightening my tie for five minutes now.” Heat creeps up your neck. You hadn’t even realized you had been lost in thought. Zayne’s eyes narrow inquisitively.  “What are you thinking about that has your mind so preoccupied?” 

His thumb brushes casually along the inside of your wrist, not so subtly checking your pulse. A strangely endearing habit of his when he’s worried about you. You let out a long sigh and hide your face against his chest, feeling the heat bleed across your cheeks.

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re insecure about how smart all his friends must be?

Zayne doesn’t push right away. He knows you’ll explain when you want to, and if you don’t, then he knows you’re not ready to. It was an unspoken rule between you, something you started with him because you noticed he likes to think his words out. It felt natural to offer you the same when you struggle to express yourself. Like now.

Ultimately, you figure it’s better to just be straightforward. That’s how he would do it, and it’s better than dancing around the subject.

“I guess I’m nervous because I feel like I’m going to be the dumbest person in the room tonight,” you mutter against his coat. Your fingers tap out an anxious beat against his abdomen. “It’s silly and I know it shouldn’t matter, but I just don’t want to make you look bad.”

Zayne remains quiet for a long minute. Your fingers move a little quicker, matching the stuttering rhythm of your heart. His hand slides up, gently trapping them against his body.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Physical tics are a common result of anxiety,” he hums dismissively, thumb smoothing over your knuckles. “As is your rapid heart rate. This truly bothers you.”

“Of course it does,” you sigh, a bit exasperated, ”You’ve worked hard to get where you are, Zayne. I love you so much, and I respect your work more than anything. I don’t, I don’t want to say something stupid and have it reflect on you badly.”

The doctor clicks his tongue, “First, I would prefer if you stop using that language to describe yourself.”

Your heart falters when his cool fingers touch your cheek, drawing your face up to his. He looks upset, but not exactly at you, the sharp line of his jaw contrasting with the softness of his eyes. Like it pains him that you think this way. Which it does.

“Those words don’t suit you. I wouldn’t allow another to call you them, so why would I allow you to?” He asserts, the corner of his lips twitching with distaste. “I don’t want to hear them again, do you understand?”

“Okay.” A thread of warmth curls around your heart when Zayne nods approvingly. His protectiveness really knows no bounds.

“Second, I do not agree with your diagnosis.” 

Your brow furrows a little. What? What does he mean, he disagrees? He’s literally surrounded by geniuses, you can’t match up to any of them if they’re anything like him. 

Seeing you start to overthink, Zayne shakes his head and gently pinches your cheek. You jolt back a little. The corners of his eyes crinkle, making you pout.

“Meanie,” you grumble, “Fine, explain your reasoning, Doctor Zayne.”

“It’s simple. Intelligence is made up of more than just academic knowledge, which, I assume, is what you are thinking of when you make such comments.” You nod. He’s not wrong about that, you guess. “Intelligence also includes the knowledge of how to use one’s strengths to achieve the best outcome. It is true that for some, this means using academic reasoning. However, it also includes those who develop the skills and discipline to maintain their bodies and fight for those who can’t, like…”

He pauses and gives you an expectant look.

“...me,” you finish slowly.

“Yes,” he hums, stroking the redness of your cheek, “I believe, under these standards, you are far more intelligent than most of the people you will meet tonight, darling. Though there is no comparison in the first place.”

His words sink in slowly but surely, filling in the cracks of your doubt. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he probably has some kind of healing magic, because you can already feel the burden of your insecurities melting away.

Leave it to Zayne to know exactly what to say, but in the most complex sounding way.

“You always know how to make me feel better, huh?” You ask, finally cracking that smile he loves.

“I am simply telling you the truth.” Zayne leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “There is not a lifetime in which my reputation will be more important than you. I would gladly throw it all away if it meant reminding you of that.”

You snort, “Don’t do that, please. I can only imagine the fit Doctor Greyson would throw. He’d be so mad at me.”

“I can handle Doctor Greyson, in the same way I can handle everyone tonight.” He slips his fingers between yours, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. You wiggle your fingers  happily and Zayne can’t help but grin to himself. “If at any point you find yourself uncomfortable, just stay by my side and I will act as your distraction. Though, I’m sure they will all love you, just as I do.”

“...Thank you, Zayne.”

“Of course, my jasmine.”

---

Xavier

Working with Xavier is a blessing, as much as it is a curse. You couldn’t ask for a better partner. Someone who you know will always have your back, who can handle himself completely, who is probably the most talented hunter you’ve ever met in your entire life. He’s undeniably amazing.

On the flip side of that, though, you often fall into the trap of thinking about how he deserves better. Wondering if, maybe, the only reason he chose to stay with you was because of the aether core in your heart. If that’s also the reason you’re in a relationship now…

And some days, these thoughts win out over the rest. Like today.

“What’s wrong?”

You blink, eyes flickering up from the bowl of ramen in front of you. Early on, you had started a tradition of eating a meal together after a successful mission, to just enjoy the peace of your home and each other. But today, you weren’t feeling that hungry, just…tired.

Xavier tilts his head, concern furrowing his brow - he noticed your mood start to shift days before, but didn’t want to push since you didn’t seem to notice it yourself. Now, though, it’s too obvious for him to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you sigh, flicking your chopsticks back and forth to watch the noodles swirl around in the broth, a small frown capturing your lips. It’s a horribly obvious lie.

“Is it something I did?” His voice isn’t accusatory or upset. It’s just a rational question to help him figure out what’s wrong. Still, you feel guilt tug at your chest, and you set the chopsticks down with another sigh.

You don’t want him to think that. You’d never blame Xavier for something like this. That would be like asking him to be a worse person, which is stupid. It’s just you. Your problem. Dragging him into it will only make you feel worse.

“No, Xavier, you didn’t do anything, promise. I’m not upset…with you.” 

“But you are upset.”

Chancing a glance up at him proves a bad idea, making it all that more difficult to keep your thoughts quiet. Behind his normal sleepy expression, worry gleams in the deep blue of his eyes, unyielding and undeniably calm, like waves lapping gently at the beach. 

The sight makes your heart ache and the words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Do you think I’m actually a suitable partner for you?”

Surprise flickers across the hunter’s face. Of all the things he was expecting you to say, that wasn’t even on the list. He doesn’t laugh though, or take your question lightly.

“Do you mean, as a hunting partner? Or as a romantic partner?”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes falling back to your ramen, “I don’t know. Both, I guess?”

He hums softly. You try to ignore the nerves fluttering in your chest as Xavier gets up, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he circles the table to stand next to you. The hunter drips his head, catching your gaze.

“May I see your hand?”

A small frown pulls at your lips, not exactly sure where he’s going with this, but you offer him your hand anyways. Xavier takes your wrist, touch featherlight, and moves it so your hand is held up flat, facing him. Your brow furrows.

“Xav-”

“Look.” 

Pursing your lips, you let out a little huff. He really hates giving direct answers, doesn’t he? Still, you’re in no place to really judge him, or expect anything for that matter. He’s always been a bit of a mystery to you.

You watch as Xavier places his hand against yours. His palm is warm and you can feel the calluses from who knows how many years of hunting. Your hand looks tiny in comparison, his pale, delicate fingers long enough to curl over your own a little. The sight makes your heart squeeze, fondness competing with the feeling of being so…small.

“They’re pretty different,” Xavier hums, voice still calm, his own eyes fixed on your hands. “Your fingers are always cold, and your hands are small. You have a scar here.” His free hand grazes the side of your palm, along your pinky. “And here” He traces another along your knuckle. Your breath falters at the tenderness behind his touch, like you’re delicate porcelain. “Mine are in different places. Yours are skilled at weaving silk balls and mine can…open jars.”

You snort. Xavier’s eyes dart up to yours, sparkling with humor, a brow raised. You try to smother your laughter, rather ineffectively, and motion for him to continue.

“They’re different, but-” His fingers spread apart, and you mimic him instinctually, only for his fingers to slot between yours in one fluid motion. You inhale softly, laughter dying in your throat. It’s like two puzzle pieces fitting together, a perfect embrace that washes over you with a comforting warmth.

Xavier watches you, keenly aware of the way you squeeze his hand tightly, desperately, like you’re worried it might disappear. He gives yours a tender squeeze in return, thumb brushing over your knuckle.

“I think they’re a suitable match. Don’t you?”

God, how could you go without this man? The worries that have been pricking at the back of your mind all week seem to melt away. It leaves you with that warmth, the kind that only comes from Xavier, that he offers you over and over again.

You give his hand another squeeze, finally smiling, “Yah. I do…Thanks, Xavier.”

The hunter leans down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. You can feel his lips brush against your skin as he murmurs, “Let me know if you ever feel this way again, angel. I’ll be more than glad to remind you.”

“I will.”

---

This was really fun to write!!! I really hope you guys like it! There are so many freaking tags on this puppy.

[nosyp]

Game of Persistence

Continuation of this

Warning = smut🔞, stalking(?), consistently calling you, obsessive behaviour, posessive behaviour

Pairing = Salesman x reader

Word count = 2.4k words

Summary = He won’t stop calling, showing up at your door, and dragging you deeper into his world. Despite you rejecting him constantly, the tension between you builds, and soon, you can’t resist.

A/N = Idek where the story is going lol

You stir awake, your head heavy, and the world seems unclear… only for a moment. And slowly, your senses start coming back to you, and the realization… that something feels... off. The warm, familiar smell of your room should be comforting, but it isn't. It feels like a completely different room despite nothing different.

You blink against the dim morning light coming from the blinds, your body sluggish as you sit up on the bed. The covers feel too thick and heavy, and for a while you don't recognize the space around you. The soft hum of a nearby appliance fills the silence, but there’s something unnerving… something wrong.

Then you spotted a small black card with the words ‘Call me’ and a phone number behind it written in white ink. You stare at the card for a long moment, the words sinking deeper into your mind. Call me.

The idea of making the call terrifies you, but at the same time, there's an almost magnetic pull to it. What could it mean? Who left it? Why now?

But somehow you worked up the courage to dial the number. Your hands were shaking as you picked up your phone. Your heart raced as you pressed each number, the beeps almost deafening in the otherwise quiet room. The final digit feels like it echoes in your mind, each beep growing a sense of dread in your chest. Once the last number is entered, your thumb hovers over the call button for a second, and for a brief moment, you question if you should do it or not.

But the pull is too strong. You can’t stop yourself now.

You tap the button.

The phone rings, each tone stretching out longer than the last. Your anxiety spikes as you wait for someone to pick up, but the line is eerily silent. The seconds drag on like hours, and you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if this was a mistake.

Then, just as you start to convince yourself you should hang up, the call connects.

A deep, calm voice answers on the other end. “You called. Good.”

Your throat tightens. There’s something unsettlingly calm in the voice, as if they expected you to call all along.

“Who is this?” you manage to croak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s me, the salesman you were with last night,” the voice says, smooth and unbothered, as though you should’ve known exactly who they were. "I trust you remember our little chat."

Your mind races, struggling to recall any conversation from the previous night. Salesman? What did they mean? The last thing you remember was... nothing. Blank spaces where details should’ve been.

“I’m the ddakji guy,” he adds, almost like it should be obvious.

Goodness, how could you forget about him? The pieces click together in your mind, and the memories return with sharp clarity: a strange man, a paper game, and a promise of something... more. Why is he calling?

You try to shake off the rising panic inside you, but it’s quite hard to ignore. “What do you want?” you ask with a shaky voice.

“I’ll explain everything to you, just wait for me,” he says. 

—

You stayed in your apartment, anxiously waiting for the man’s arrival. Hours seemed to go by as the weight of the situation slowly got heavier, each passing minute making you question if you had made the right choice.

And then, just like that, there was a knock at your door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It was the same consecutive three knocks like last night, the one you’d heard in your memory that you now couldn’t shake. Your pulse quickened as you stood frozen for a moment, hand hovering near the door.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. There was no turning back now.

You opened the door, and there he was. The salesman. His calm demeanor was exactly as you remembered, almost like he had been expecting this, expecting you to open the door.

"Good," he said with a smile, his voice calm and confident. "I was wondering when you'd open the door."

You stepped back, not sure how to respond, and he walked in without waiting for permission, as if he had already been invited.

His eyes scanned the room briefly before returning to you. "Let’s get to it," he said, his voice low and steady. He seemed to have all the time in the world, despite the growing tension between you.

Over the next few hours, he spent his time explaining the whole operation to you. He explained how it worked, the roles, and how you were needed to help with what he called ‘Squid Game.’ It wasn’t anything like you’d imagined. No deadly challenges, no players, just a whole system that needed people behind the scenes. Workers like you.

"...are you drunk?" you ask him, your confusion growing with every word.

He looks up at you, disbelief slowly appearing on his face, before letting out a sigh. "No, I'm not," he replies calmly, his eyes staying focused. He continues explaining. 

"I don’t even know what you’re talking about," you say, still processing what he’s saying. "You want me to... work for you? In this weird game thing?"

“Yes, exactly,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But not as a player. You’ll be like me, recruiting players.”

You stare at him, trying to piece it all together. "I don’t get it. Why me?"

He leans back slightly, eyeing you carefully. "Because you’re perfect for the job. You have the skills we need. This isn’t a game you can just walk away from once you’re involved. It’s bigger than that."

You look at him, speechless for a moment. You hadn’t signed up for any of this, yet somehow it felt like the decision was being taken out of your hands. Despite yourself, the thought of turning it down feels... impossible.

“I don’t know...” you trail off, feeling the weight of the situation settle around you.

He doesn’t push. He simply nods, signalling that he understands you need time to think. "You don’t have to decide right now. But when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting."

As he turns to leave, the silence in the room feels heavier as ever. His words linger in your mind, leaving you to wonder if saying no was really an option anymore.

—

The days following the encounter with the salesman feel like they drag on endlessly. You spend your time replaying everything he told you in your mind, and try to make sense of it but you never quite got it. Every time your phone rings, your heart skips a beat, a small part of you hoping it's him, yet dreading it at the same time.

And then, it happens.

The first call comes the next morning.

Your phone lights up, and before you can even check the phone number, you already know who it is. You hesitate before answering, your thumb hovering over the green button. It's him again.

You take a deep breath and pick up the phone.

"Hello?" you say, your voice tight with tension.

"You ready yet?" His voice comes through, calm as ever, but there's something unsettling in the way he asks. It's almost like he knew you’d pick up.

You feel a wave of frustration bubble up inside you. "You can’t be serious," you mutter under your breath.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. "I’m serious. You’re perfect for the job, and you know it. You beat me all those times. All you need to do is just step up. I’ll be back tomorrow. We need to move forward."

Before you can respond, he hangs up.

The call leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth, a knot in your stomach. You didn’t ask for this, yet it feels like you’re being dragged deeper into something you can’t escape.

—

The next day, the phone rings again. It's him. Same number and the same calm voice.

"Did you think about it?" he asks, his tone light, almost too casual. "Have you made up your mind?"

You press your palm to your forehead, the frustration building. "You’ve got to be kidding me. I told you I wasn’t interested."

"You can keep saying that," he responds, "but deep down, you know you’re in this whether you want to be or not. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll talk again. You’ll see."

And just like that, the call ends.

—

Day after day, the calls keep coming. Every time you think you’ve had enough, the phone rings, and he’s there, as persistent as ever. His voice is calm, almost soothing in its insistence. Sometimes he asks if you’ve thought it over, other times he just reminds you that you can’t get out.

It feels like an unrelenting pressure, each call more invasive than the last. His confidence doesn’t waver, and you begin to wonder if you ever had a choice at all.

One day, you finally snap.

"Why won’t you leave me alone?" you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "I’ve told you no every single time and you just keep calling. What the hell is wrong with you?"

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, he answers, his voice almost too calm.

"Because I know you’re not done yet. And I don’t give up. Not on people like you."

“All I did was beat you in ddakji!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. 

“But… we need you to help us,” he responds, still calm as ever.

“No you don’t. Leave me alone.” you angrily say before hanging up. 

—

The knock comes again.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s always the same, as though he knows exactly when you’re expecting him and when you’re not. You don't even flinch this time. The uncertainty from the first visit is long gone. Now it’s a horrible feeling and you have no idea why. You’ve made your mind up. He’s coming, and this time, you won’t shy away from it.

You walk to the door, your pulse quickening. The room feels smaller now, the air thicker. You open it without hesitation.

There he stands, still wearing the same smooth, calm demeanor as before, but there’s something different this time. His intense eyes… they don’t just survey the space. They’re on you. The air between you both feels charged.

“Hello,” he says, the words almost too casual, too smooth. He steps inside, and without invitation like he usually does. He walks past you, invading the space of your room. You’re not really sure if you want him here in your room, but there’s an undeniable attraction in your chest for him. It’s like you’re being tugged toward him despite your better judgment.

"I didn’t think you’d let me in today," he says, voice dripping with a quiet, smug satisfaction.

You can feel your heart pounding as he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours with that same unnerving confidence. The tension in the air is almost palpable.

“Why are you here?” you ask, your voice low but trembling with a mixture of frustration and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You feel like you’ve been backed into a corner, but this time... you don’t mind it.

“I told you,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You can’t escape it. We both know it’s been leading to this.”

His hands brush against yours as he walks past you again, casually reaching up to close the door behind him. The click of the lock sounds louder than it should.

"You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that," he says, his voice low and controlled, the same calmness that’s always unnerved you. "Say it. Say you want this."

Your breath catches in your throat, the words sticking, but something inside you makes the decision for you. "I want this," you whisper, almost against your will, the admission slipping out before you can stop it.

His smile widens, and that’s when you see it. The stupid satisfaction in his eyes, the knowing, predatory glint. He’s been waiting for this. And now, so are you.

Without another word, his hand finds your wrist, pulling you toward him with an undeniable force. You stumble but don’t resist. You never do.

His lips meet yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, almost too gentle for a man who’s spent days pushing you into a dark corner. You hesitate for only a second before your body starts to react, betraying your mind.

You can feel him smile against your lips as you kiss back, your pulse racing. His hand slides up your spine, pulling you flush against him. His other hand snakes around your waist, pressing you harder against him, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers between kisses, his voice darker now. His hands roam—never rushing, but never giving you a chance to catch your breath. “Admit it.”

You shake your head, but the words come out anyway. “I didn’t want this. I–” You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses his hips against you, his body heat radiating through his clothes.

“Don’t lie,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses along your neck, his lips brushing so delicately that it sends a shiver down your spine. “You wanted it the moment you picked up that phone.”

Your hands move on their own, reaching for him, for more of the feeling. Or whatever it is that’s coursing through your veins. The lines of what’s right and wrong blur, and all you know is that you can’t stop now.

He pulls back, looking into your eyes as he unbuttons your shirt, each move deliberate. He watches your expression carefully, gauging your reactions like a predator. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice sharp. “Tell me you want this.”

Your body betrays you as you breathe, “I want this.”

A soft laugh escapes him, dark and pleased. “Good.”

His hands move quickly, and in the next breath, your clothes are discarded, the cold air hitting your bare skin. But the sensation of his hands on you, the heat of his touch… it’s enough to set your whole body on fire.

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice barely a whisper. “I told you that you’d never be able to walk away from this. I’ll make sure you never want to.”

[lambilegs]

I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."