#actually bought it a while ago already just a few days before the start of the new semester but stuff went down so only posting now

[across-stars]

imprisoned 😈

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫

summary: slightly less innocent, virgin!reader has had her view of pleasure shifted. her libido has increased to insane levels after she finally allowed her boyfriends to fix her…dry spell. charles and max have no issues with helping her ride out her newfound sexual appetite, and figure that she may be ready to take the next step. or, more accurately, take the next hand. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. handjobs. thigh riding. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. charles leclerc is a brat. orgasm denial. there's smidge of humor in here somewhere i think. slight humiliation kink. word count: 4.2k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: gun • doja cat

preface: AHHHH OMG I HAD THIS IN MY QUEUE AND THE DATE WAS 9/12 INSTEAD OF 12/9 I WAS IN THE WOODS WITH SPOTTY CONNECTION ALL DAY AND I HAVE TBLR NOTIFICATIONS OFF ON MY PHONE I AM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT! ALL FUTURE EPISODES WILL BE POSTED AT 12 PM ON THEIR RELEASE DAYS!

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

it’s laughable. you can’t believe that you almost bought a vibrator instead of telling your boyfriends that you were ready to start the sexual aspect of your relationship. actually, it kind of makes you mad—you could’ve been experiencing the most mind blowing levels of pleasure years ago, if you had just gotten over your own insecurity.

max and charles had been dating each other for a couple years before they found you. you were a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, and they were enamored with you as soon as they were introduced. you cringe whenever they reminisce over the first time you met them—the men think it’s the cutest first meeting ever.

they met you on a yacht in monaco. an older member of the ferrari team was retiring and decided to have a relaxed celebratory brunch on a chartered yacht. charles, of course, would be attending; he’s sure he’s most likely contractually obligated to go, but he also enjoys going to these sorts of events, he flourishes and thrives in social settings. however, on this particular day, max and charles had already planned for a date. 

when charles had been forwarded the invitation from andrea (his trainer), who had texted him threats of bodily harm if he didn’t show up��he whined and groveled to max about having to reschedule their date. max had shushed charles’ dramatics, and simply pulled out his phone to show a text thread between him and brad (his trainer), who sent him the invitation to the yacht party. charles made a noise of surprise; this brunch is more relaxed than he thought. max shrugged and pressed a kiss to charles cheek–all they have to do is make an appearance, greet who needs to be greeted, congratulate who needs to be congratulated, and then they can sneak away and leave early for their date.

that was the plan. and everything seemed to be going according to the plan. they had boarded the vessel (nobody knew the rivals had come together), everyone assumed they had just arrived at the same time. they quickly congratulated the retiree, and charles separated from max to go and charm everybody on the boat, while max had gone to take advantage of the brunch spread.

the dutchman was halfway through his second plate of finger food when charles had returned to his side, bringing their trainers and a few engineers along with him. the monegasque was stealing bites of food off his plate, and max gently tapped on the face of his richard mille watch to remind charles that they needed to start wrapping up. 

except, joris had just boarded the yacht—and you were at his side.

charles choked on his bite of stolen food, and max distractedly patted his back to clear his airways. it was like time slowed down, their vision tunneled, and the noise of conversations around them quieted; at the sight of you. you were wearing this light, flowy, orange sundress that complimented your warm brown skin, accessorized with gold jewlery, a pair of heeled tan sandals, and your curly hair was free and blowing in the breeze. you kept your gaze lowered, like you were fearing making eye contact with anybody on board, and you turned to slightly hide behind joris as you frantically whispered to him.

charles and max had decided then and there; they need to know you.

you had parted from joris at the sound of someone calling for you and the sight of you walking away, broke the trance the two drivers had been under.

when charles’ friend made his way over, they were quick to interrogate him about you, and why exactly he’s never introduced you to them before. joris threatened them before he gave them permission to pursue you (not that they needed it), and refused to answer any of their questions about you. he told them to go talk to you, and warned them to be gentle with you—as you have a more shy and introverted personality. it took nearly thirty minutes for charles and max to find where you disappeared too. you were chatting to the retiree, and as soon as you wrapped up the conversation—max inserted himself in your path, and ‘accidentally’ bumped into you.

you stumbled briefly, finding yourself bumping into charles as well. you frantically apologized to the two drivers, eyes wide with embarrassment—and max and charles found themselves vehemently reassuring you that it was their fault, and that you don’t need to apologize.

once you calmed, max started to test the waters.

“it was completely my fault. i should’ve been paying more attention to where i was walking but, i got distracted—because you look too beautiful in this dress.”

your mouth parted in surprise and you giggled awkwardly, not expecting the compliment (charles had to muffle his snort, max is incredibly corny), “oh! thank you—it’s really the dress that’s beautiful.”

the monegasque stepped in, “ah, no that cannot be. the dress only compliments how pretty you are.”

you hummed, eyes flickering between the two of them nervously, and caved to their flattery.

“mmm, thank you…the orange works with my skin tone pretty well.”

“it does,” max agreed with a soft smile, “i must be your favorite driver—since, you’ve dressed in dutch orange.”

your eyes widened, as you giggled at his bold claim, laughing harder when charles’ pretends to be angry at max’s words. the couple watches as your smile shifted from something sweet, to something teasing as you fumbled over what to say in response.

“oh? well, if i did dress for my favorite driver, it would be lando norris. because, this color is more similar to papaya than your dutch orange.”

max scoffed, and charles bursted out laughing—the two of them not expecting the teasing from you, based on how joris led them to believe that you were the shyest thing to walk on earth. 

that interaction had completely cemented their urge to date you. they ended up staying at the yacht party, just talking to you the entire time, enjoying making you blush and fluster, flirting around the limits of how much affection you could take from them. they missed their dinner reservation, but found themselves taking you out to dinner somewhere near the waterfront. 

at the end of the night, you exchanged phone numbers with them and they sweetly told you that they’d reach out to you for a second date. you had made a noise of surprise, completely disbelieving that you were on a date, or that they’d want to see you again. but, charles and max were quick to make their intentions clear as they realized they may have been moving too quickly for you.

you can’t believe that was over two years ago. the boys had been so kind with working hard for your trust, and with a final conversation about how this relationship would work—you had agreed to be their girlfriend. of course, you had your stipulation of not being ready to have sex, but the boys did take that in stride and didn’t try to coerce you into changing that boundary. matter of fact, they had even offered to stop having sex between the two of them if it made you uncomfortable—which you disagreed with on the spot; they didn’t need to limit their actions with each other just because you needed extra time. 

and extra time, ended up being two years. charles and max had waited two years without complaining once, about the fact that you still weren’t ready to have sex with them. apparently, the final aspects that you needed to realize you were ready to have sex were: being unable to get yourself off for a month while they were in the midst of a triple header…and also that, you trust them with your entire soul. 

and goddamn, did their patience result in a valuable reward.

ever since max and charles had cured your dry spell by giving you the most life-changing orgasm from riding max’s thigh, you’ve been insatiable.

it’s like your horny-meter was struck by lightning and was overloaded and stuck at the highest setting—it feels like a perpetual ovulation week. it feels like you can’t look at max’s thighs without getting wet, it feels like you can’t hold charles’ hand without your knees buckling. it wasn’t like you were never horny before the thigh-riding incident (max finds the title hilarious), but to be consistently desperate—you’ve never felt like this before. it’s like the monegasque and the dutchman have awoken your sex drive and shifted it into high gear. your libido has been so insanely high that the men have pretty much offered themselves to you as free-use.

you wake up horny? choose your fighter: charles’ thigh or max’s thigh. you get turned on by charles kissing your cheek? ride his thigh. your tummy knots up when max calls you pretty girl? ride his thigh. your panties get wet when charles comes back from getting a haircut? ride his thigh. your clothes fall off when max smiles at you? ride his thigh. your brain turns to mush when charles and max make out? ride their thighs, twice.

you’ve been so pleasure-crazed that you ended up getting a friction burn from how often you were using their thighs. 

you whimpered in shame as charles rubbed aloe vera on the irritated skin between your legs.

“vior (see)?” charles said to max, who was sitting on the bed next to you holding your hand, “she has sensitive skin—we should not have let her use our thighs so often.”

“ah,” max dismissed, ignoring your mortified whine, he smirked at charles, “she’s just learned how good we can make her feel—forgive her desperation, schatje?”

charles lightly presses on the inflamed skin, and you slightly hiss in pain. he stares at max with an unimpressed expression, 

“and now feeling good too often has her feeling bad, non?”

charles resumed his gentle massage of aloe vera, as he continued to bicker with max about you, like you weren’t lying right there. mortification had the melanated skin of your cheeks flushing with a visible blush, and you muffled your embarrassed whimper into max’s thigh. the humiliation of your boyfriends discussing your barely-sex related injury as if you aren’t present should have been horny-level reduction material—but secretly, you enjoyed it; just a little bit. 

with a pained gasp, you slammed your thighs shut around charles’ hand when he passed over a more seriously-raw area of skin. his hand was forced up, and it brushed firmly against your cunt—and that previously pained gasp transformed into a moan of pleasure. the conversation around you silenced abruptly. you kept your eyes tightly shut, refusing to pull away from the safe haven of max’s thigh. you heard charles laugh disbelievingly, and with his free hand he easily pulled your thighs apart with little effort. the casual show of strength only had you getting wet. 

he made a show of flexing the hand that was entrapped between your thighs, before he dropped two of his fingers on top of your panties and guided them to circle over your clit through the thin cloth. your eyes flew open, and with a squeal your hips bucked up to chase his hand; but he was too quick, and pulled away, using that same hand to hold your hips down on the bed.

“you’re so horny that you completely forgot about the friction-burn you have on your thighs from your previously extremely horny activities,” max deadpanned, staring down at you with a blank expression.

“i can’t help it,” you murmured shyly, “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” max stated, releasing his grasp of your hand to brush his thumb across your cheek, “nothing’s touching your cunt for a week.”

“huh? WHAT? why? no—why not?” you blurted out in confusion, ignoring charles’ snort.

“liefje—you could barely handle charles rubbing the gel into your skin; you are too sore and inflamed. no pillows, no hands, no thighs.”

you humphed, knowing max is right, but not wanting to admit it. 

“that’s torture! i just started getting to experience real pleasure and now i can’t even cum for a week?!” you whined up at max with pleading eyes.

“you went without using our thighs for two years—you can handle a week, mon coeur,” charles patted your hip with an annoying smile, before he climbed off the bed to put the gel away.

“charles, don’t tease her,” max sighed, “it’s just a week, pretty girl. you’ll be fine.”

you are not fine.

it’s the slowest time has ever passed in your entire life. honestly, the nerve of your boyfriends to have beautifully muscled thighs around you. you’ve been put in horny jail–seriously! the two men seem to have a radar for whenever you start to get turned on. no matter how hard you try to suppress any changes in your body language or facial expression, they sus you out in a few seconds. it’s uncanny; before you even open your mouth to try and persuade them into anything, they squish your cheeks together and say, “not yet,” and then walk away to give you space to calm down. every instance of this in the first couple of days was more mortifying than the aloe-vera gel application situation (which max now applies for you since charles couldn’t refrain from teasing you), but you quickly became desensitized.

max will not budge. he lets you whine, grovel, beg, promise, and plead. he sits through your whole monologue of desperation on day four, and smiles the entire time. when you finish your expertly delivered request to be allowed one orgasm from his thigh, he pats you on the ass and walks away. the amount of rage that filled you was probably unhealthy–how the fuck does he manage to be so unfazed?

charles, on the other hand, you could break. on day five, you trapped him in bed, sneakily convincing him to spend five more minutes with you while max brushed his teeth. you were quick to initiate sweet kisses, humming into the press of his lips, before you pull away and squirm on top of him to straddle his torso. 

the love-tinted haze cleared from his eyes as soon a he puzzled out your motive, and the monegasque moved to guide you off his body, but you halted him, pressing a firm hand in the middle of his bare chest. 

“c’mon cha–just let me, it’s been so long,” you pout down at him, doe-eyes wide and pleading, “don’t you wanna make me feel good?”

charles wavered–it has been so long. he doesn’t think he’d forget how your face looks as you orgasm, but it would be nice to see it again. you slowly grind your hips down on his, and charles manages to hold back any noises, but his eyes flutter in pleasure. the brunet halts your hips when he sees the brief flicker of discomfort appear in the furrow of your brows.

“ah, regarde toi (look at you)!” charles tuts disapprovingly, “you know you aren’t ready, just wait a little longer!”

you climb off of his lap, and bury your face in the pillow next to him, muffling a dramatic scream to make sure he knows how displeased you are. he rubs your back soothingly, letting you release your anger, before you flip over and huff.

“fine–whatever. two more days. two more days…for me,” you murmur, ignoring charles’ squint at your words, “just because i can’t do anything doesn’t mean you two can’t, right?”

charles shrugs his agreement, “yes, i guess. we haven’t came since you can’t. we were just planning to wait for your skin to recover.”

your heart warms at their abstinence, and the gears of your brain start turning. 

“hmm. you know you don’t have to wait for me? i kind of got myself into this situation and it’s not fair for–”

“no. max and i are both responsible too,” charles cut you off, “we should’ve taken more care to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too far.”

“i don’t blame you guys–i was jumping the two of you everytime you so much as breathed in the same room as me. but, that’s not the point! i was going to say: shouldn’t i thank you guys properly?” 

“quoi? how?” he tilted his head to the side in question.

“i mean, isn’t it time i learn how to make you feel good too? i’ve kind of taken advantage of you, and never thought about making sure you guys feel good, like me.”

“how can you say that, mon amour? you make us feel good everytime we make you feel good,” charles sees that you don’t quite believe him, “you don’t notice how tight our pants get when you sit on our thighs? after you’ve finished, we sneak away to the bathroom to relieve ourselves! trust me, we feel very good with you.”

“hey! that’s my point–i want to make you guys…cum,” you whispered, “not have you sneak away to go do it yourself. can’t you teach me? isn’t now the best time for me to learn when i can’t be distracted by my own orgasm?”

“as long as you avoid rubbing yourself on anything, i’m actually okay with this,” max’s voice carried from the doorway, causing you and charles to jump in surprise. neither of you heard him open the en-suite door.

the dutchman walked over and sat on the bed next to charles, who eagerly supported your suggestion now that max said it was okay. 

“c-can…can we do it now?” you asked quietly, simultaneously afraid of a possible rejection and the idea itself.

the younger man hummed, and sat up next to max. he smirked at the blonde, “i’m sure he can’t say no to the opportunity of having me teach you how to touch him just the way he likes.”

you may have miscalculated, to some degree. does everything about max have to big? big mouth, big hands, big thighs, big…dick. your brain stops functioning at the sight—max sitting with his back against the headboard, legs spread open comfortably, uncaring of how exposed he is, his cock half-hard and still growing where it rests on his thigh, and don’t forget his self-satisfied smirk at the sight of your shock. you squirm from your seat in between his legs and charles steadies you from his position behind you, bracketing your body within the two of them.

the monegasque shifts forward, hooking his chin on your shoulder with his chest pressed along your back, and hums softly, “all of that ,” charles pauses and moves his right hand to apply pressure on your navel, “is going to be deep inside of you soon.”

“ ‘s not gonna fit in me.”

“we’ll make it fit,” max states. you whimpered at his confident tone, and you could feel charles muffle his chuckle in the crook of your neck. 

the click of the lube bottle opening caused you to flinch back into charles, who soothed you with a pat on the hip. the brunet carefully squeezed out a small amount of lube into your right palm and murmured instructions for you to warm up the liquid. he then guided your hand to grasp max’s dick, who sighed softly at your touch.

“touch him however you want, mon ange,” the monegasque directed, “get used to how he feels and then we can make him feel good.”

swallowing down your apprehension, you lightly trace a finger down his shaft, marveling at how he’s a few of your fingers in girth and decently longer than the size of your hand (that’s definitely not fitting inside of you, they have no idea what they’re talking about). you drag the tip of your pointer finger up along the vein on his underside to the head of his cock. the tip is flushed with an attractive shade of pink complimenting the pale skin of his body, and it’s a beautiful contrast to the brown skin on the back of your hand. you wrap your palm around him gently and brush your thumb over the head, making a noise of surprise at his cock twitching in your grasp. a drop of pre-cum beads in the slit and you curiously drag a finger to collect it; you pause, before you bring your finger to your mouth and flick out your tongue to taste it.

it almost tastes like nothing? slightly bitter, a little salty—but, it’s good. he tastes good. 

max groans and the sound of his head falling back and hitting the headboard reminds you that the cock you’re feeling up is attached to him. 

a broken rasp of, “fuck,” slips from his lips, and charles kisses your cheek in approval.

“ah-you’re so good at this already, mon amour,” charles cheered, “let’s give him a hand, together.”

he brings his left hand around your body to join yours around max’s, and leads you through the motions. he starts you on half strokes, having you circle your hand around the head, while he focuses on mimicking your motions around the base. you can see the muscles of max’s abdomen and thighs clenching with the effort of not thrusting forward into your hand.

“shit,” max moans, “the two of you will be the death of me.”

charles nips a mark right behind you ear, “move your hand like this—oui, just like that—and press your palm around the head—good girl—just keep doing that for me, mon amor.”

max groans roughly at the focused attention on the sensitive tip of his dick; he’s going to come embarrassingly quickly. the sight of charles teaching you how to give him a proper handjob is going to keep him up at night.

“liefje, you’re doing such a good job,” max pants, “going to make come already, pretty girl—are you going to lick my cum off your fingers too?”

you moan highly at his words, nodding your head quickly in agreement, eager to keep being good for him. max continues to run his mouth as he gets closer to orgasm: ‘you and charles should taste the cum off your hand together,’ ‘he can’t wait to get his hands and mouth on you,’ etc.

with a stuttered breath, max warns you that he’s cumming—and charles yanks your hand off of him; ruining max’s orgasm. the dutchman shouts in frustration, his hips bucking up freely now, trying to chase the delicious friction that was stolen from him.

with flushed cheeks, max yells, “what the fuck, charles!” and you turn to look at charles, who’s sitting behind you with an extra-pleased smirk on his face. the brat shrugs nonchalantly, not offering an explanation. you bring your hand back to grasp max’s cock—and repeat the same motion of twisting your palm around the head, to lead max back to an orgasm. he moans in relief, thankfully the edge of release didn’t slip away from him entirely—and then you bring your other hand up to make up for charles’. 

all it takes is a few more synced strokes, and max cums. you feel the warmth of his release coat your fingers, but your eyes are stuck on his expression. his mouth parted slightly, eyes shut, his chest heaving, mouth red and flushed from where he was biting at his bottom lip, and you can see the pleasure washing over his face—goddamn, you wish you were feeling what he is. in the haze of appreciating how he looks when he comes, you fail to stop your hands from continuing your motions and max’s hands fly down to halt you once the pleasure slips into too-much.

when he makes eye-contact with you, you raise your cum-covered hand to your mouth and make a show out of tasting his cum. you moan sweetly and smack your lips—honestly, you don’t particularly like or dislike the taste, but the way max’s eyes widen at your display makes you think you’ll learn to love it. he watches you lick your hands clean, and murmurs out a faint, “what the actual hell, liefje.”

“and, you,” the older man’s expression hardens as he directs his cold gaze on charles, “we’re not touching you for two weeks.”

“por quoi?!,” the monegasque pretends as if he doesn’t know exactly what he did.

you and max both ignore charles’ whining, and you smile extra sweetly at max as you wiggle onto his lap, “may i use your thigh, please?”

he digs his thumb into the sensitive skin of your thigh, and you yelp lightly. 

“two more days, liefje,” max orders, “and if you’re patient, you can have more than just my thigh.”

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© httpsserene2023

[bbyobbyo]

You don’t usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol

wc: 1.6k

note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. i’ve never written idol!au either (bc i think it’s easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 🥰 I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe

[read pt.2 here!]

Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.

Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.

In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to… the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if it’s malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.

Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed — it’s playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, you’re home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he can’t bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.

-

You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.

Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.

You’re usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet he’s been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's “the perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dot”. But that doesn't explain why “rise n shine babe :))” pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.

[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it

[8:06 am] Do what????

[8:07 am] im onto you mister 👁👄👁

[8:07 am] 👍👍👍

You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldn’t tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isn’t that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that you’re online? No, you know for a fact that you both haven’t opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?

Sigh… you’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.

-

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, he’s been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, he’s already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.

Sometimes, he swears that you’ve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like “Really babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure you’re not a narcissist or something?” But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.

He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you “No babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.” Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.

-

Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.

It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. “Hi love, what are you doing up so late?” he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.

“I wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!” your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoon’s heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriend’s labor for the past months. “Alright, you’re not allowed to be disappointed then” he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.

Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. “Wait, let’s play it on the speaker!” you interrupt. You’re on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, you’ve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.

Shit, he’s done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that he’s been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. You’re mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.

As the album comes to an end you look like you’re about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend can’t control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.

As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.

-

Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesn’t need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning” you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.

Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. You’re about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hums back from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the speaker, I can’t kick you off today.” you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.

[vicsstufff]

CHAPTER ONE — show and tell.

warnings: nothing (?)

BTS masterlist

taglist: @rebecca-woso @unadulteratedcyclepaper , @authentic-girl03

pairing: hopkins!p.bueckers x exchange student!oc

authors note: first chapter guysss, thank u some much for the support on the prologue, it gives me more motivation to write. i am starting school soon and it will definitely make me write slower :(. i feel like nothing interesting happened in this chapter. comment if u wanna be added to the taglist!

camila had arrived at the airport some hours ago, it is now july and the heat had calm down by this time of the year, her host family told her that it was summer over in minnesota but they assured her that it was not compared to brazil’s heat. adriana and Michel, were they’re names, adriana was born in washington but got a job in minnesota, michel was originally from canada, studied in washington and that’s were he meet Adriana, they were actually very young and camila was shocked that they didn’t have any children yet. they showed her own room, it was definitely cozy and beautiful, they had different fashion sense compared to brazil’s but she didn’t questioned anything, they had spent money, time and dedication to make this just for her, back in brazil, she had to share her room with 2 of her cousins, while helena got a room all for herself, she once did too.

after a long 16 hour plane, she landed in minnesota, at this times of the year, brazil was heavily packed with windy days while minnesota was bright as the sun didn’t have any clouds to protect the people from its heat. her host family was right, the heat was bearable.

walking through the gate, her vision was filled with desperate families waiting for their loved ones, she started locating her host family. adriana had dark brown hair and green eyes, Michel had dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. when she finally found them, they had a bright smile decorating their face. “cam! you’re finally here!” Adriana cheered grabbing camila’s bags to help her, “how was the flight? exhausting?” michel questioned handing her a protein bar with a bottle of water, “definitely exhausting.” camila admitted before grabbing the protein bar and drinking the water bottle.

the sun was starting to get covered by the mountains surrounding the city, the ride was entertaining even though her phone had died, she couldn’t stop seeing the amazing view the city offered her. she started missing brazil’s sensation, it was one in a kind. adriana was the one driving, explaining that michel was afraid because he had sweaty hands and feared that he couldn’t grip the steering wheel strong enough. the rest of the ride was filled with jokes and tips that adriana gave to camila, she really understood how it feels to be left out and the feeling that you don’t belong.

the house was built like the exact model for a little family, it was a medium size house, with two floors, perfect en camila’s eyes. her house back in brazil was much smaller like mentioned. the dog— monica, came running to her feet once the main door opened, her tail wiggled behind her showing her excitement.

“here, i made cinnamon rolls.” adriana brought to her eyesight a plate full with delicious cinnamon rolls. she hadn’t taste any cinnamon rolls when she lived back in brazil. she grabbed one gently, her fingertips getting covered by the cinnamon, she bite it, her mouth exploded with sweet flavors, she licked her lips and placed the cinnamon roll back on the plate. “we planned on you going to hopkins high school, they didn’t really agreed, so, you are going to be assisting cedar hills. i dare to say it’s a better choice.” michel entered the kitchen explaining camila her current situation and her future studies, “we already bought everything you will need.” adrianna assured her, she could feel the happiness lingering in her words, it made her feel like she was her own mother even if she just meet her a few hours ago, adrianna had made more effort in making her comfortable than her birth mom.

the afternoon passed quickly, camila didn’t even knowledge it, she had been focusing on memorizing her new home, monica —the schnauzer dog— following not far behind her. the last place she visited was her room, she analyzed every corner, there wasn’t a single corner left empty, the smell of the cinnamon rolls still in the air — it had reached her room upstairs even when the kitchen was very far away— she also hadn’t checked her phone yet, she knew it was about to explode with messages for ‘p’.

she reached for her phone hidden in her pocket, she turned it off after charging it for a while. after her phone had fully loaded, the messages started appearing.

p

r u in minnesota yet?

it’s hella hott

idk if u will find it hot do

heyyy

can we meet at the lovers river??

at 9 pm

if u can ;)

cam

sorry, my phone died on me

i got here since the morning but got distracted

isn’t it kinda fast too meet?

p

u think it’s fast?

we can meet another day if you want

no worries

which school r u going too??

cam

cedar hills

sounds fancy

p

i really hoped for u to come to hopkins :(

well

my second game is against them

cam

r they good?

p

not really

we literally destroyed them last year

camila placed her phone down in the near table in front of her bed, walking closer to the window, the sun had fully taken cover in the mountains now, the moon taking its place instead, the stars making her company. camila wished she was like the moon, she attracted attention from everybody, she always stood out, the stars were all similar, not attracting that much attention like the moon. she hopes that one day, she will be somebody’s moon.

“cami! dinner is ready!” the sudden shout startled camila, taking her glance off the view and making her way down the stairs and entering the kitchen, the smell of spaghetti and chicken replaced the cinnamon rolls smell that was lingering earlier that day.

“excited for school?” adrianna spoked handing her a glass filled with watermelon juice, “well, i will say that i’m nervous.” camila muttered with a cheeky smile, “don’t be, i heard that people in cedar hills are friendly.” michel assured her before grabbing a spoon with chicken bringing it to his plate. the only thing left for camila is to hope and pray everything goes smoothly.

[judasofsuburbia]

something something caretaker! steve gets hired by rockstar! eddie to look after and live with wayne. everything is set up over the phone after eddie was given his resume so eddie's never physically seen the guy but he has enough positive reviews and references that it seems like there is anybody in this world that doesn't like this steve harrington fellow.

wayne munson soon becomes his #1 fan.

wayne keeps telling eddie all about steve in their weekly phone calls. anytime eddie tries to steer the conversation into something actually about wayne's health and wellbeing, wayne manages to involve steve. says that steve's blushing face is real handsome while steve rolls his eyes and laughs to himself across the room.

"you should come home on your next break," wayne says.

"i'm planning to."

"steve really wants to meet you," wayne says with an infliction.

"well, shit, wayne. from how much you gush about him, i'm excited to meet your new boyfriend too," eddie teases.

"oh hush, you. my casanova days are over. you, however, could use someone good."

the next break eddie has, nearly six months after steve starts working for the munsons, he arrives at nearly 11pm. he's quiet as he sneaks into the house he bought wayne years ago and nearly shits himself when he sees steve hanging out on the couch watching TV. he drops his suitcase to the floor, jolting steve out of his trance.

"oh god, i'm so sorry!" steve rushes to say as eddie clutches his chest and tries to steady his breathing.

"steve, i take it?" eddie laughs breathlessly.

"yeah, hi," steve stands from the couch and holds his hand out. "nice to finally meet you."

steve steps into the light as he does this and eddie's taken aback by just how handsome he is. oh fuck, wayne wasn't just messing around. eddie takes his hand, firm and strong, and shakes it.

"sorry to jumpscare you like that," steve smiles and his eyes twinkle in the low hallway light.

"no, i should've prepared myself," eddie says. "someone hasn't been in the house either than wayne or i in....well, ever."

"don't worry, i'll try to keep mostly to myself as you two have quality bonding time," steve replies sheepishly.

eddie shakes his head. "you don't gotta do that. you're more welcome around us than anyone. i owe you so much for looking after him."

steve smiles. "you already sign all my paychecks."

right, yeah. eddie's technically this guy's boss. eddie's never really thought of it that way before. that means any plans eddie's monkey brain had in the last thirty seconds about flirting with the handsome caretaker is out the window. it wouldn't be appropriate. eddie slouches and gives steve a tired smile.

"i'm gonna turn in. see you at breakfast?" eddie asks, hopeful despite his conflicting internal monologue.

"be prepared for oatmeal," steve jokes. "it's the only thing he wants for breakfast nowadays."

eddie scrunches up his face. "you don't have any poptarts or anything fun stashed away somewhere?"

"depends. do you like brown sugar cinnamon?" steve asks.

"love it," eddie whispers.

"then yeah, your breakfast fate can be a little better," steve nudges his elbow and it lights up eddie's skin.

"thank you caretaker steve," eddie salutes and turns heel to his teenage bedroom.

over the next few days, eddie goes out of his mind. he watches steve just do his job, the job he hired him to do, and he's still going crazy over it. how steve prepares for everything, accidents and things eddie couldn't even predict. spoon feeds wayne if his hands are too shaky. jokes and messes around with him like he's family. wayne's eyes keep drifting over to eddie's when steve isn't looking, a smug little smirk on his face.

"it can't happen," eddie seethes when steve leaves the room. "you're what's important here and i need him to stick around."

"and i need you to stop moping about the country, getting your heart broken every other week," wayne retorts. "steve's a good boy. he would treat you right."

"we don't even know if he's gay," eddie grumbles.

wayne gives him an unimpressed look that makes eddie bark out a frustrated laugh. "take a look at his bedroom, kid. you'll have all your questions answered," wayne advises right before steve returns.

"jeopardy time?" steve asks, hands already on wayne's wheelchair handles.

"eddie is gonna beat us both," wayne claims.

"that so?" steve beams. eddie is glaring daggers at wayne.

"he's full of useless facts," wayne jokes while eddie throws up his hands and steve laughs joyfully.

eddie falls for steve more and more as the week goes on. he tries his best to restrain it, tries his best to never be alone with steve. catches himself from checking steve out (especially in his daily running outfit, god) and swallows flirtatious lines that nearly escape his mouth. it's hard to say no when steve invites him to watch a movie or hang out with him while he cooks dinner but he does. eddie has to be coming off like a total dick at this point but it's for the best.

steve is out running an errand so eddie finally decides to snoop only a little bit. opens steve's bedroom door and smiles at all the decorations. sure enough, there is a little bisexual pride flag sticking out of the pen cup on his desk. eddie is admiring framed photos of steve and some kids along with little handwritten camp postcards on his corkboard when steve enters the room.

"anything interesting?" steve jokes from the doorway.

"shit!" eddie yells, clutching his chest again like he did the first night. "fuck, i'm so sorry."

"don't be," steve shrugs easily. "it is your house after all. i snoop your teenage bedroom all the time when wayne asks me to change the sheets."

"still, i shouldn't be invading your privacy," eddie says with an apologetic face.

steve walks carefully over to where eddie is standing. "i don't think there is much privacy between us where wayne is concerned," steve says quietly with a kind smile, leaning up against the desk.

"i'm sorry about him," eddie groans, rubbing his hand over his chin. "he is a little pushy about my love life."

"no, i'm sorry that he's weird about us. i swear i called you handsome once and he has never left it alone since," steve admits with a small blush.

eddie's eyebrows raise. "you think i'm handsome?"

"are you kidding me? you got this whole," steve gestures in a circle, "rockstar bravado going on. hard not to admire the show."

"well, you've got a show i admire too," eddie admits, inching closer.

steve huffs, looking down bashfully. "do i?"

"mhm. smart, genuine guy with a heart of gold. makes wayne's days better. lights up a room. probably rescues cats from trees and saves drowning puppies," eddie smiles.

steve tilts his head from side to side. "i may have rescued a cat before but it was stuck under my little brother Dustin's porch."

"see? heart of gold," eddie repeats.

steve exhales deeply, twisting his mouth. "i wasn't sure if you liked me."

eddie reaches his hand over and touches steve's hand on top of the desk. steve looks up shyly to eddie's sympathetic face. "i didn't want to-- there's a power trip here, you know? like you said, i sign your paychecks. i'm not about to pull out the moves and make you feel like your job is at risk if you aren't into it."

steve nods before slowly rubbing his thumb over eddie's.

"and if i am into it?" steve whispers.

"well i--" eddie stutters.

"can i kiss you?" steve asks quietly. eddie's not sure he's ever been asked in his entire life.

eddie nods. when steve's lips touch his, it's all over. any pretense of keeping his feelings undercover blows up like fireworks underneath his skin. eddie feels as his resolve sparkles and cracks away into the air. he encourages steve to keep kissing him by pulling in his face closer. steve sucks his bottom lip in between his own when his watch beeps.

"wayne's meds," steve whispers.

"old bastard," eddie jokes. "watch a movie with me later?"

steve bites his lip and nods. "i know just the couch."

[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.” In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[rapunzelbro]

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |1| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

This is a beginning of a prompt I wrote. Please don't expect chapters quickly. Enjoy!

Story guide

Being the wife of a man who went missing was hard. Many told you it was time to move on, many told you he was dead, and hell maybe you should just move on. But if they knew what happened that night, what actually happened to the man you loved, they would know why you couldn't exactly give up hope. You told him to shut it down, to stop what he was doing, hell Stan even did, but none of that would matter.

When he got trapped in the portal, it was the day you shut yourself out from everyone, you moved back to the small town home you two had bought before moving to Gravity Falls, you couldn’t take living in the house he went missing in. Stan kept living in his brothers’ home, turning it into some ‘Mystery Shack’ tourist attraction after a few weeks, which you wanted no part of. And after that, it was just radio silence. You didn’t hear anything from Stanley, nothing about your husband, it was just silence.

10 years went by. You still had hope that he was going to walk in that door and embrace you, telling you about the crazy things he saw while he was away, promising to never leave your side. It was now August 1992. He was smart, he knew about this sort of thing, so he was going to be back in your small home in New Jersey any minute now. That was going to happen… Right?

Another 10 years went by. You were grasping at straws trying to keep the memories you had with him in your mind. It was February 2002. The ring on your finger was a reminder of the love you two had, your hope was beginning to slip away. You stared down at your phone. Some weird new portable phone you finally decided on getting after debating. You should call Stan…

You never ended up calling him.

10 years later you had a car packed, a for sale sign was up in your town home you once lived in. It was now June 2012. Your wedding ring was no longer on your finger, you put it back in its box years ago. He wasn’t coming back, it's been 29 years. You were headed back to Gravity Falls, Oregon. To say you were nervous would be an understatement, you didn't know what to think. How would Stan react?

Shit. Stan. You had to call him.

After starting your car, you scroll through your contacts before landing on your brother-in-law, Stan Pines. The contact photo was an old photo of him from your wedding, he was being chased around by some smaller kids who were there tormenting him, thinking it was hilarious, you obviously had the photographer take a photo of it. Looking back on it gave you hope that he was willing to forgive your absence. You dialed his number before you started driving, praying he hasn’t changed it after all these years.

It was on its final ring before someone finally answered “.. kids don't do anything stupid! Ugh…Hello?” he sounded the same as you remember, almost identical to your Stanford. “Hello? If this is some telemarketer im not interested” he said again, you realized you did say anything “Hi! Uh Hi sorry. Stan.. Is that really you?” you heard him spit his water out before coughing, then clearing his throat “Y/n.. it’s you. Um, geez sorry not good at this, why are you calling me? It's been 29 years..” He sounded off put by you calling him. “I’m heading back to Gravity Falls Stan, I was hoping I could see you? Unless you don't want to then-” “Quit rambling.. You're sure you want to see me after all these years? I did uh, take over your old home” Stan muttered into the phone “That wasn’t my home Stan, and yes I'm sure. I'm driving so it'll be a couple days until I arrive. I have a place already so don't worry” You sigh slightly

“Grunkle Stan who are you talking to! Is it a girl?” you can hear a younger girl on the other side of the line, you must be on speaker. “Who’s that?” you ponder “It's no one” Stan quickly replies, hearing the girl gasp “Y/n Pines?! Grunkle Stan! You’re married?! DIPPER YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO BELIEVE THIS” She had to have seen the caller ID. Guess he just added you as a contact “Mabel you get back here! Shit, Y/n I gotta go, I’ll get it sorted out. I can’t wait to see you” Stan grumbles before hanging up. You slightly smile at the interaction.

You marrying Stanley? Hard pass.

Taglist: @cherryblom @leo4242564

[nervoussystemss]

Bloodlust - Homelander x F Reader (18+)

A/N: Current obsession is Homelander. Somewhat fluffy fic, somewhat smutty fic.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61216822

Summary: You and Homelander have been dating for a little. He's able to smell your period before you start and during, and takes it upon himself to ease your cramps and make you feel good.

"You know I can smell you, right?"

You almost jump from fright. You're lounging in bed when he comes in. He doesn't have a key to your place. You never gave him a key. So how—you know what? Never mind. It's better to just not ask questions with him sometimes. "You know knocking works, right?"

"I'm the Homelander. I—"

"—can do whatever you want. I know." You fix him with a look. Don't be cocky. He grins. "I literally showered like two hours ago. I know I don't smell bad." You do your best to try to look offended.

"It's not that and you know it. You're on your period." His eyes have turned dark and hungry for a few moments. With his bloodlust, it's not surprising he can smell it. "Just started, actually." He inhales deeply, and when his eyes open, his pupils are blown wide. He smiles at you. "Heavy flow today, huh?”

"Don't be weird about it," you say as you try to smile. "It's usually heavy the first two days, especially the second."

"What do you need?" is his follow up question.

You tilt your head.

He rolls his eyes up to the heavens. "I can smell your period before it comes, you know. So. That was actually a hypothetical. Because—" he pauses, making his way out of the room, before he comes in with a package of pads, chocolate, and a literal bouquet of roses "—I already got you this."

When you're quiet and stare, he looks like a kicked puppy. "You don't like it?"

"No, no, I do. I just wasn't expecting this," you quickly say as you shift to an upright position in bed. "We've been dating for—what, two months?"

"The amount of time we've dated doesn't matter to me. Am I not supposed to treat my girlfriend well, especially when she's on her period?"

You don't have a rebuttal. "I appreciate it. Thank you, Homelander." You reach a hand out, beckoning him over.

He does, putting the package down on the bedside table and then placing the roses in a vase that was already sitting there. You do a double take. You didn't own any vases to your knowledge. He must have put it there while you were in the shower.

He props his head on his hand, watching you silently. You were so beautiful. He could stare at you for hours. He takes your hand in his as his thumb caresses your hand gently. The feeling is nice.

Had he planned to come over? You two didn't make plans for today, but you knew he was impulsive spontaneous sometimes.

He offers you the chocolate bar he bought silently, and you break it in half, offering the other half to him. That's the way you usually do things—sharing. He doesn't really get it. He's always been akin to a dragon, hoarding everyone and everything he loves close to his heart and never letting them go. Pictures of Stormfront were still stored, photos of Ryan, Madelyn, Maeve. And now, of you too.

You have been added to what he deems his collection, and he's not letting you go anytime soon—or ever.

He breaks free from his thoughts, his hand splayed on your abdomen. A frown forms. "You're cramping."

"Yeah." You force a quick smile. "First two days are heavy bleeding but also the worst cramping, so…"

"You know…" he begins slowly, lips curling up into a smirk.

"We're not having sex," you blurt immediately, knowing that look in his eyes.

"If you're worried about the mess, we could always just put a towel." He shrugs as if it's no big deal. "It does help alleviate cramps, according to science. I don't mind. Besides, I'm used to getting blood on me."

"You've never gotten my blood on you," you comment dryly with a roll of your eyes.

"We can change that if you'd like." His suggestion hangs in the air. He moves slowly, nibbling at your earlobe, kissing your collarbone gently, trailing down your stomach kiss by kiss. His lips meet your bare thighs—you were only in a hoodie and shorts—but they don't go further. "Take it off."

"What?" you stammer, completely having zoned out for a moment.

"Your shirt. Take it off."

"It's a hoodie," you correct.

"Same thing."

You take it off far too slow for his liking, but that's okay.

"Your bra too."

You raise a brow. "What's the magic word?"

He lets out a desperate groan. "Please."

"Good boy." You flash a grin as he seems to melt at the praise, right before he yanks your shorts off, quickly followed by your underwear. "You're fast when you want to be, huh?" You try and sound cocky. You sound breathless instead.

"We could always do this slow, babe. Up to you." He's lying. He can't wait.

"Are you sure you don't mind the blood?"

"If I minded, I wouldn't have brought it up to begin with." He brings his face closer and inhales again, eyes once again growing dark as he gives you a look. You nod at him, and that's all he needs. He laps at your clit, slow at first, and when your body jerks, he holds your hips so you don't move. "Too much?" he grins up at you.

"It's fine," you pant out.

"Fine? I'll show you fine." He goes back, tongue swirling before he presses his entire tongue ever-so-gently against your entrance. You hear yourself gasp as you feel a gush. You feel a sense of something. You're not sure what. He pulls back as he licks bloodied lips, eyes trained on you, slightly narrowed. "You okay?"

That was kind of hot. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get blood all ov—"

"It's okay. Nothing to be ashamed about. You're on your period." His voice turns a bit softer. "It's normal. It's natural. I asked for this, and I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to. Besides, you taste good. In both ways. Relax."

You do so. "You gonna keep going?"

"You haven't cum yet."

"I don't need to. This is good."

"Have none of your ex boyfriends ever made you cum?" He sounds half baffled and half offended on your behalf. What pathetic losers. He'd put them all to shame.

"No."

"Well, let me change that then." He dips his head again.

By the time he's done and you've finished, he's made you cum three times. You're out of breath as he finally has mercy on you and lets you take a quick shower. You're back in your underwear, shorts, and hoodie once more.

"Thank you," you blurt, "for... that." You motion downwards.

He snorts. "You're thanking me for eating you out?"

"Well, that and making me cum three times in a row. That's literally never happened before."

"Glad to be of service." He tugs you into his arms, sighing contently.

"You don't want me to...?" Your eyes glance down.

"Do you want to?" His eyebrow raises.

"Not right now, no."

"Then no." He shrugs.

"Okay." You rest your head on his arm. "By the way..."

"Hm?"

"The cramps are gone."

"Good to hear." He's not letting you go. Not now, not ever. "I'll always be there for you, no matter what, even if you don't want me to. You know that, right?"

You think you hear a hint of possessiveness leak into his voice. But no. That wasn't right. That couldn't be. "I know. Thank you." You move up to press a kiss to his cheek.

He pretends it doesn't affect him as much as it actually does. "You should get some rest. I'll be right here." He settles, holding you near him as you close your eyes.

You've never felt so cared for and protected as you listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear, dozing off.

[mrsbarnesblog]

barbie

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: Bucky takes his best girl to watch a Barbie movie and then spoils her with gifts.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, Bucky being the best boyfriend, he's healing your inner child.

Author's note: it was inspired by Barbie movie when it just came out. I think that Bucky is that type of boyfriend who would do everything possible to make you happy<3

You had been excited about the Barbie movie since the day you found out that it was in the making, and you may or may not have annoyed Bucky with it like a million times.

You begged him to go see it on the day of the premiere, and even if at first he really wanted to say “no”, he couldn’t.

Yes, he was your grumpy old supersoldier, but he would do anything to make you smile.

When the tickets started to sell, it was almost impossible to find one because people went crazy about this movie.

When you finally had time to look for the tickets, they were sold out. Obviously. Even if you didn’t say anything, Bucky saw sadness written on your face when you didn’t get the tickets for the opening night, and it hurt him to see you that way.

So, as the best boyfriend in the world, he got them for you. 

Yes, there was definitely one good thing about being a famous Avenger: you could get almost everything.

You and Sam also taught him how to use TikTok a few months ago, and besides a million videos of cats, he started to see Barbie-related content. He wasn’t really interested until he saw a video where a guy bought his girlfriend a doll and a lot of pink and cute things as a surprise.

Would you like it if he bought this for you? Did you even like dolls?

Bucky didn’t think about it too much; he just went to the store. 

He probably stood in front of the shelf with Barbie dolls for way too long because, while he was looking for the one he thought you would like, a shop assistant came to offer him some help. Bucky explained his situation, and the young girl—Stassie, as he found out—was almost jumping with excitement to help him and said that his girlfriend was really lucky.

She showed Bucky two dolls that came out recently: one in the western look and one in a light pink dress. It was hard to pick one because both were really cute.

So he bought both.

Stassie gave Bucky a few tips on what else he could buy for you; that's why, after another hour in the mall, he went home with a big box full of random pink and cute stuff.

You weren’t at home, so he hid the box in a safe place and decided to give it to you after the movie.

The day before the premiere, when you two were already getting ready to sleep, laying under the blanket and ready to cuddle while watching a movie, he silently gave you a white envelope.

“What is this?” You asked, looking at your weirdly smiley boyfriend.

“Open.”

You studied his face for a few seconds, but then sat up and carefully opened it to not rip whatever was inside. 

“Bucky…” You whispered as two tickets with “Barbie” written on them fell into your hand. “You didn’t—how did you get it?” Your eyes were watery as you looked at him.

“That’s a secret. But I wanted to make you happy.” The soft look in his eyes made you want to cry, but instead you just jumped into his arms, leaving kisses all over his face.

“I fucking love you, James.” 

“I love you more, doll.”

It was safe to say that he got his reward for being a thoughtful boyfriend, and you both fell asleep only a few hours later. 

You two walked out of the movie theater holding hands while you were still sobbing a little bit. It was an amazing experience, and you were overwhelmed with feelings. Bucky led you to the side so you wouldn’t bother other people, wrapped his hands around you, and held you close to him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He mumbled into your hair and kissed your temple.

“Yes. I’m so happy that we watched it. And that you came with me.” You wrapped your hands around Bucky’s neck and melted into him.

“I liked it too, actually.” You heard a deep chuckle.

“You know, I told you that you look great in pink, and you didn’t believe me.” 

You obviously decided to stick to a non-official dress code, but it was hard to convince your boyfriend that he needed to wear something pink too. So the only thing that he liked in the store was a pink jean jacket, and you were okay with that.

An old lady that sat in the movie theater behind you with her grandkids said to Bucky that he was a really good young gentleman and that you two were perfect for each other. 

Bucky didn’t really like any interactions with strangers, but you still noticed a light pink color on his cheeks and a sweet smile that he gave to the woman.

“If you think so, I’ll accept it, baby.” He was silent for a few seconds, but then smiled again and cupped your face with his metal hand so you would look at him. “I have something for you at home. Do you want to go there now and then order some food?”

“Something for me?” You frowned at him but still leaned into his touch. “And you should know better than to ask me whether I want to order food or not. I always do.”

You were sitting in your living room on the couch, where Bucky told you to stay and wait for him. He went to your bedroom and came back in a few seconds, holding a big pink box.

“This is for you.” He put the box near you on the couch and sat on the free spot at the other end. 

“For me? Why? I forgot about our anniversary or something?” You tried to laugh. 

You opened the lid, and your mouth opened as you saw what was in there. Your shaking hands gently pulled out two boxes with dolls, and you took a few seconds to look at them properly, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes. Then you got the rest of the stuff: a pajama set, a journal, a candle, masks and bath bombs, and a lot of your favorite candies. Of course, everything was pink. 

“I hope you like it. The girl at the store said–” You didn’t let him finish before you stood from your place and sat onto Bucky’s lap, hugging him as hard as you could, sobbing into his neck.

“Sh-h, baby, that’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around your body, gently swaying you from side to side.

“T-thank you so much, Bucky, really. You didn’t have to do it.” You moved back a little bit, and Bucky’s right hand immediately flew to your face to wipe away tears. You took one of the boxes with a doll on your lap and carefully took her out of the box. “She’s so pretty... I’ve never had a real Barbie before. They are expensive.”

“It is worth every dollar if it makes you happy. I saw this idea on that video app, and I wanted to give you something special.” 

He looked at you with a soft smile while you were unpacking the second doll and then gently touching her hair and clothes. He thought that he gave this present more to the younger you, and it made him feel so happy.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” You put the doll down and took Bucky’s face in your hands. “I am so lucky to have such a person in my life. Thank you for everything. Not only for dolls, it’s all amazing. I love you, James.” You closed your eyes when he moved closer and put his forehead on yours. 

“I’m the one who is lucky to have you. I’ll give you anything if it makes you smile this way. I love you.” 

[bagerfluff]

Collared Casper

Sub/Bottom Casper x Top/Dom Male Reader

Prompt - Collar

Warnings -  Pet name, collar, fingering, rough sex, biting, anal sex

“I don’t know how I feel about this”, Casper said.

You, on the other hand, loved this. You see, a few days ago you were scrolling on the internet when you came across something. It reminded you of a conversation you had Casper had before you two got together.

An idea sprouted in your head and you quickly bought it. Now, Casper had a very nice dark red and black collar. It was spiked with a tag in the front that said ‘property of Y/n L/n’.

The actual collar was dark red and the spikes were a shiny black. It was beautiful. Casper was beautiful. You could feel your dick getting hard in your boxers.

Casper was already all undressed, while you were just in a pair of boxers. “I love it”, you said, leaning forward to kiss Casper. Casper groaned into the kiss.

You tilted your head and bit Casper’s lip, causing him to moan and open his mouth. You took the opportunity to slip your tongue into Casper’s mouth.

While you and Casper french kissed you moved a hand down to Casper’s legs. You pushed them open and circled Casper’s hole with your finger.

Casper groaned into the kiss and bucked your hips. You pulled away and let out a little laugh. You stuck a finger into Casper’s hole, moving it in and out.

“Ah, more”, Casper ground. You stuck two more fingers into Casper’s hole. “Ah~, ah~, yes”, Casper moaned, leaning his head back. You pulled your fingers out, leaving Casper to whine and the loss.

“Don’t worry, baby”, you said. You pulled your dick out of your boxers and pushed into Casper. “Oh~, yes~”, Casper moaned as you started thrusting.

You held onto Casper’s legs as you stared at Casper’s face. His red cheeks, sweaty forehead, collared neck. Casper looked gorgeous. You focused on the tag on the collar, it bounced with every thrust, making you thrust even harder.

“Y-y~ mmmm~ Y/nnnn~”, Casper moaned, his hands gripping the sheets so tight that his knuckles turned white. “M-more~, aahh~”, Casper moaned, feeling his orgasm getting closer.

You groaned as you felt Casper tighten around you. You leaned forward and placed your hands on either side of Casper’s head. You leaned your head down and bit Casper’s neck.

Right under the collar.

“Ooohh~”, Casper said right before coming because of the bite. You kept thrusting, chasing your orgasm. “Ah~ mmmm~, yes~, ah~ ah~”,

Casper whined and moaned at the over stimulation, but he liked it. You leaned back up and grabbed the collar with your fingers. You pulled on it, pulling Casper up with it.

You kissed Casper roughly as you came inside of him. Casper moaned into the kiss, feeling light headed. You pulled away and tugged on the collar lightly, making Casper moan.

“Guess you like the collar”. 

[weirdsht]

Hii 😞😞

I genuinely can't help myself but request for sweet stuff

Bc I'm lonely

Cale w reader who always wears pants and barely dolls themselves up, but then they decide to wear a dress one day and WOWZA

Something New - Cale/Reader

tags: fluff, a tiny bit of insecure! reader, jealous Cale if you squint, established relationship, reader's gender isn't specified but they are wearing a dress.

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Requests are open and welcome

Navigation Masterlist

It happened on a whim, starting when you saw a lone dress in the closet while trying to spring clean.

You bought the dress impulsively a few months ago, finding it cute at the time. You swore to yourself that you’d find an occasion to wear it, but you never did. 

It’s not because the dress isn’t cute anymore. No, no, it still is, it’s so cute you had to take a few minutes to admire the glory of it after taking it out of the hanger. The design of the frame wasn’t the issue. Rather, it was just the simple fact that it was a dress. Something you don’t usually wear.

And so its elegance didn’t stop the dress from being stashed at the back of your closet.

Well until today that is.

Once you were done sorting your closet you abruptly decided to change into the dress. Wear something different for a change.

You can’t help but feel a tad bit insecure as you look in the mirror. The dress is pretty and it frames your body as though it was made specifically for you. The ruffles of the off-shoulder clings to your skin while its see-through puff sleeves showcase your arm underneath the fabric.

The skirt has three layers; two sheer fabrics at the top and an opaque layer underneath. It sways beautifully alongside the ribbon in the back whenever you twirl, the hem grazing your thighs as you giggle in front of the mirror.

It’s a beautiful dress and you look so good wearing it. However, it doesn’t take away the uncomfortable fact that it’s not something you would usually wear, doesn’t take away the smidge of insecurity you feel as you play with the cut-outs of the dress around your waist area.

Perhaps the dress can’t soothe your mind but Cale’s reaction definitely can.

“Can I hide here for a while? The kids have been bugging me to train and we both know I’d rather drown in lemonade than do that.”

Cale knocks on your door as he asks for solace. Taking pity on him, you opened the door to let him in. Your room is the safest place to get away from the kids’ antics, they actually respect your alone time and wouldn’t go in unless given a go signal.

The redhead stops in his tracks as he sees what you’re wearing. His actions make you gnaw your lips. Did it look bad? It is too unusual? Maybe you shouldn’t have tried it on.

You were about to speak up, ask him if you should change, when he beat you to it.

“Let’s sneak out and go on a date.”

“Is it– wait what? I thought you wanted to sleep today.”

You shot Cale an incredulous look. Just where did that come from? He has always had an impulsive side, no matter how rare it showed itself, but this was something that had never happened.

“Yes, but you look too good right now. It would be a shame to just stay here.”

“Excuse me? Wait! Cale!”

Before you can wrap your head around what your lover said he was already whisking you away with his ancient power. The two of you exited through the window and proceeded to go to town to have an impromptu date.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have gone hear…”

Cale grumbled under his breath a few minutes after roaming around town. The townfolks were kind enough to not bother their young master silver shield today after seeing that he was on a date. Despite that, Cale was still frowning and grumbling under his breath.

“What’s the matter, love?”

You inquired, concerned that perhaps his social battery had run out. Cale was never one to socialise much after all.

“It’s nothing… it’s just that everyone keeps looking at you.”

He frowned before activating his dominating aura. He just let it ooze a little, just enough for people to steer clear of the both of you.

Confused at what he meant, you tilted your head towards him, silently asking him to elaborate.

Finding your gesture cute, Cale kissed the top of your head surprising you once more. He was never one for public shows of affection, preferring to indulge you in his love in private.

“You just look too good okay? That dress looks too good on you and now everyone’s eyes are glued to you. It doesn’t help that this is the first time you wore one.”

He might have murmured something about going on a picnic in the forest instead but you didn’t quite catch it. 

Your mind reels at the accidental compliment. Well, Cale already said you looked beautiful earlier, but still, it didn’t feel real until now.

“You mean it?”

You hesitantly asked making Cale stop in his tracks just outside your favourite restaurant.

“Yes.”

He nonchalantly said before linking your arms with his and entering the establishment.

The two of you spent the entire day having fun. The news will definitely have a field day writing various articles of how Roan Kingdom’s it couple are seen enjoying the day as if they were the only people in the world.

You had so much fun that you almost forgot you left the villa without telling anyone.

Don’t worry though, Ron will make sure you remember and understand the heart attack you accidentally gave everyone.

[illicitlimerence-writes]

baby bear | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 1.7k words request: nope. warnings: fluff, a baby, this is really badly written bc i haven’t written an actual story in monthsssss. this was based on this tiktok i saw a few weeks ago, plsss watch it before reading if you want the context, otherwise it won't make much sense. tell me this isn't the most charles energy you've ever seen. a/n: look who remembered her tumblr password. i haven't been on here for so long... what's new? what are the new trends? how are we liking the new f1 season? how are you? perhaps posting once every three months will be my personality from now on.

my masterlist 

“look what i bought.” 

those words were not unusual to hear, especially coming from charles, especially since you found out you were pregnant. you looked up from the book you were reading, raising your eyebrows at the sight of charles’ bright eyes and him trying to bite back a grin.

“so… i was wondering around, and stumbled upon the baby store,” he started, you nodded, knowing he obviously went there on purpose, “and found the cutest, most perfect little suit for the baby,” 

“okay…” you started, placing a bookmark and closing the book as you sat up, extending your arm, asking him to get closer. “is it cute?” 

“the cutest.” he said, placing the bag on the bed and taking out the suit.

“aw, charles,” your heart immediately melted at the sight of a brown bear suit, with a small hoodie and bear ears. “it looks cozy, and big…” you noticed. 

“yeah, she’s gonna look perfect in it.” he said, leaning forward to kiss your lips. after that, he walked to the crib you’d set up in your room, to be able to reach the baby faster in the first few months of her life. in there, you’d set up the bag you would bring to the hospital when she was ready to join the world.

“what are you doing?” you said, getting up and walking to him, you wrapped an arm around him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“i want her to wear this when she comes home,” he explained, and you could tell just by the way he blurted that out a little too fast, that he meant it, and that he’d probably already imagined the sight of your beautiful new baby in his arms. you wanted to tell him that this maybe was a bit too big for her, but you didn’t want to break his bubble.

“okay, but we have to wash this first, alright?” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek while he nodded, knowing you were right.

“my little bella bear.” he sighed as he caressed the soft suit.

-

five months later, your little baby girl, isabella, had already outgrown her original suit, your heart broke a little, knowing how much charles loved seeing her in it.

he was currently out of the country, but already on his way back home after a few days on the other side of the world. you were rocking your little girl to sleep when you heard your phone ring. you grabbed it and smiled as you saw charles’ face fill your screen. 

“hey,” you whispered, tilting your phone down so he could see the baby.

“hi, my baby,” he said, making you smile. “why isn’t she wearing the suit?” he asked.

“charles, she wore it yesterday,” you chuckled, remembering the way he almost screamed in delight as he saw her in it the day before. 

“yeah, and?” 

“she can’t wear it every day,” you laughed softly, not wanting to disturb her. “i’ll wash it tonight.”

“okay, i can’t wait to be back home. i want to hold you both,” 

“what time do you get here?” you smiled, having missed him after being away for almost a week. luckily, the next three races were close to home.

“i’m not sure. i’ll check and let you know. but don’t worry, lorenzo will pick me up. can i ask you a favor, though?”

“of course.”

“can you dress her in the bear suit?” he almost pleaded, pouting. 

“fine,” you laughed, “you’ll see your little bear tomorrow.”

-

charles would not, in fact, be seeing his little bear. because one cruel thing about having a baby is how quick they grow. it was bizarre, since just two days ago it still fit her perfectly, but now her legs were a little too long to fit comfortably, her head a little too big to place the hood on it.

you swore under your breath, knowing how heartbroken charles would be once he found out the news. you dressed bella in a different outfit, some white overalls that had little bears embroidered on it with a brown shirt underneath. it was the best you could do. 

but then you received a text from charles.

‘can't wait to see you and bella bear.’ followed by a white heart and a bear emoji. 

“oh, my god,” you mumbled, grabbing bella, your handbag and car keys.

you drove to the store you knew charles had bought the original bear suit from, with bella on your arm, since you didn’t have time to grab her stroller or anything, you were thinking out loud, talking to bella as you walked through the store and looked for the suit.

“the things we do for daddy, he just loves seeing you in that suit,” you said, kissing her temple as you walked through the store. “there it is.” you walked there, looking for the right size. “you know what? let’s get a few more.” you said, grabbing enough suits to hopefully fit her until at least her first birthday. bella giggled, curling her fists on the fabric of the suit. “you love the bear suit, too, don’t you?” you asked her, kissing her cheek. “my bella bear,” you often found yourself repeating the nickname charles gave her from that very first day a few weeks before she was born. 

you quickly drove home and changed her into the suit, and waited for charles to arrive.

“i’m home!” he said, about twenty minutes after you got home. 

“hey,” you walked to him, feeling his hands on your waist as he lifted you up, “i missed you.” you said as you buried your face in his neck.

“i missed you too, my love. i’m so happy i don’t have to travel too far away now.”

“i know. and maybe bella and i can join you?” you asked, having contemplated that idea while charles was gone. 

“you think she’s ready? are you?” you shrugged.

“we won’t know unless we try.” 

“okay, then… we’ll try.” he placed a kiss to your lips, one that took your breath away like it was the very first one. “where is she?” 

“napping,” you answered, slipping your fingers between his and leading him to bella’s room. she’d already upgraded from the crib in your shared room to her own. 

“my little bella bear, i missed you so much,” he said, kneeling in front of the crib and running his knuckle softly against her chubby cheek. “you look so pretty in your bear suit.” 

-

and as months passed, charles was still unaware of the change of suits. every two or three months you’d change into the next size, taking advantage of the weather changing -telling charles that it was too warm for bella to wear it as often-, and the times he had to leave home. you would rummage through the drawers in bella’s room, where you kept all the suits she had grown out of. 

it sometimes came with little slip-ups, like the time you forgot about one small rip in the original suit that you’d sewn together. as a force of habit, charles’ hand reached for that spot, just to make sure it was still there, that it wasn’t growing any bigger. but it wasn’t there. 

“huh,” he hummed out loud, catching your attention.

“what?” you asked, looking up from the puzzle you were piecing together. 

“nothing, it’s just… the rip, it feels weird.” he said, running his finger up and down the place where the rip was supposed to be. 

“oh, maybe it got messed up in the wash,” you said the first thing that came to your mind. 

“maybe,”

“hey, can you help me find this piece?” you asked, changing the subject quickly to get it out of his head. 

in the blink of an eye, her first birthday was approaching, and so did the choice to pick a theme for her birthday party.

“she’s been really into flowers lately,” you told charles one morning, as you both helped bella stand up and encouraged her to walk from parent to parent. 

“hmm… flowers and rainbows?” he said, holding bella up as she steadied herself. “you like that bella bear?” he asked her. you reached to your side holding a flower plushie you’d bought her a few days ago.

“flowers, bella?” you held it in front of you, but bella turned around, playing with charles instead. “that’s a no, i guess,” you chuckled.

“i know…” charles said, setting bella down and walking to her bed. he grabbed her teddy bear, “bears?”

“bear!” you both turned your heads at the same time, staring at bella. 

“oh my god, did she-”

“i think she did, come here,” you said, grabbing the teddy from him, “bear?”

“bear!” she repeated, and you held her in your arms as charles sat next to you.

“your first word, baby…” he murmured, and you looked up at him, heart melting at the sight of his eyes shining bright at your daughter. 

“what about a bear party?” you suggested.

“i was thinking the same thing. i’ll go to the store tomorrow to buy her a new suit, now we can add this one to the collection,” he said, putting on the little hoodie. 

“what?” you asked, completely taken aback by his comment.

“yeah, the drawer filled with the suits,” he pointed at it.

“you knew?” 

“what? that you’d been secretly switching the suits, ripping and sewing it back together so that i wouldn’t notice? yeah,” he said.

“then why- how-”

“that first suit… you really thought i wouldn’t find it weird how the rip was there, then it wasn’t, and then it magically appeared again?” 

“you just loved that suit so much, and i didn’t want to break your heart once she started to grow them out, so i got a bunch and kept them there.”

“i know. i’ve seen them,”

“oh my god,” you groaned, leaning against him as he laughed.

“i love you. it was so hard to keep this to myself.”

“how do you think i felt?” you laughed, looking down at bella. “why didn’t you tell me anything, missy?” you tickled her belly, smiling at her loud giggles. 

“come on, bella bear, we have to go find a new suit for your birthday party.”

BYE this is really bad, i'm sorry.

[kafka-ish]

part 2 of your latest work? 🙏🏽🙏🏽

part 1!!

To be fair it was Art’s fault really. He was the one who told you to talk to Patrick… or not talk to him. He was the one to suggest you all move in originally… But he didn’t know you’d take it the wrong way. He should’ve been more blunt, stated things more clearly. But it’s too late. Now he has two roommates who walk around the house practically naked because he started it.

And it’s not like it starts out that way. First you’re just wearing Patrick’s shirts. He doesn’t catch on what you’re doing until he’s missing a few of his band tees in the pile he keeps on the floor. It’s not long until he sees where they’ve gone to. He catches you in the living room watching the news and he just stands in the hall, smirking.

“Is that my shirt?” He asks one day.

“Is it? I never see you wearing one.”

“Funny. Give it back now.”

“No, Patrick. I washed it.”

“I bought it.”

“No, Patrick. Your dad bought it.” God you get under his skin. He wants to rip his shirt off that you have on but you’re already walking away.

You don't hate Patrick you just hate how entitled he is. You hate that he's just there... kind of like a fly on the wall or a mascara stain. Just won't go away. Always hogging the couch either spread out or laying down. Always facetiming his girlfriend loudly, not bothering to go in the other room or put in earphones. And it's not regular conversation. They're always arguing. Patrick, are you smoking again? No, he says, slipping his vape into his sleeve, ghosting the hit he just took. Mainly, you hate his dad's bank account. You wish he'd get cut off, or at least get a part time job. You tell him the mall's hiring and don't worry, macy's hires felons.

"I'm not a--"

"Well there was that one time," Art says, now that he thinks about it.

"Okay but it wasn't like I was arrested."

It's summer and the ac isn't working. Maybe that's what started it. You lounging around in strappy bikinis all day to get back at Patrick.

"I'm going to the beach later, I just wanted to get ready."

"Yeah, sure. Later was five hours ago."

"Patrick, please. It's so hot. It's killing me." It's killing him too. You’re stretched out on the couch. You finally have it to yourself. Sweat beads from your forehead. Your neck. Your collarbone onto your chest. Patrick watches this while Nancy Pelosi talks about the affirmative action movement.

“What’s with you and politics?”

“Some of our lives actually depend on it.” You look at Patrick. It’s such a pity. He has such a great face yet nothing good to say.

One day you actually do go to the beach. You need someone to apply your sunscreen and Art would normally do it but he’s out, playing tennis or with his friends. You have to ask Patrick. Any other day, you'd mind, but it's 110 outside, hotter in the house. Feels like you're on the sun. Besides, you want to catch a tan and lately you like how predictable Patrick is. You always know where he is. He keeps people from breaking in.

"Can you get my back?" you ask, turning around for him.

"Gave your servant the day off?" He's referring to Art. Nonetheless, he stands up. Starts with your shoulders. His calloused hands rub the lotion in like he's giving you a massage.

"Figured he deserves one." Patrick chuckles. At least you can see the bias his own best friend has for you too. His hands get lower and it takes everything you have to not fall into him. "Finally going to the beach? Not just here to tease me?"

"Your hands aren't the only thing that need watching. God, you're such a perv."

"C'mon, you're just mad 'cause you've never been touched there." He starts playing with one of the strings before you can pull away. You reach in your purse, pull out a mini linen dress. Slip it on and get some satisfaction out of depriving Patrick of something. Make a jab about how you're covering up so you won't have to worry about getting taken advantage of by guys like him. He says something like, "just because I have a big dick doesn't mean I am one."

"Just ask your dad to pay for the ac."

[saintzweig]

nsfw patrick zweig x reader

– no actual smut, reader is art's younger sister, stanford patrick. brother's best friend trope idk

– i'm supposed to be working on an article for school but i've been thinking about this all day sooo

patrick usually spends his summer break in the donaldson house, saying he'd rather smash a racket on his head than spend three months in his parents' pretentious, suffocating mansion. it's been that way since they were 12, and now they had just finished their junior year at stanford.

you've had a crush on him since the first time art brought him home, it was only supposed to be a small, happy crush to get you through summer but as years go by, you'd be more and more excited to see him. he was nice to you, outspoken and funny. sometimes he'd playfully flirt with you which makes you want to believe that there's a chance, but your brother says he's like that with everyone. there's no way he'd go for a younger girl, let alone his best friend's sister.

it was different this time, though. you were excited as usual but in a different way. you had just turned 18 a few months ago, and just graduated highschool. it had been a whole year since you've seen him and you wanted to take this chance to show him that you're a woman now. not just his best friend's little sister.

that's exactly the thought that ran through his mind when he arrived at your house, you were in a bikini top and denim shorts, undoubtedly spending the noon by the pool (on purpose of course, you knew he was coming.) you were nicely tanned, and toned as you had been going to the gym. he had to stop himself from making a comment out loud but you knew it affected him in some way, you saw how his eyes scanned you. you felt proud.

but the next few weeks proved to be a little harder. despite all efforts, he wouldn't budge. you would go out of your way to 'casually' touch him, you would make small talk and look up to him through your eyelashes. sure you'd get small reactions like catching him off guard that he'd stutter or choke on his drink, or softly touch him in places that would get him stiff. but he always kept his hands to himself, it was starting to make you frustrated.

of course this doesn't mean he hasn't thought about doing something. it took him a lot of effort to cool himself down and act normal around you, a beautiful young girl that wants him bad, but he knew better than to go against his best friend's wishes or make your parents mad. after all, they were letting him stay there for free.

after a month and a half of nothing, you decided it wasn't going to happen. but you didn't want to let all your hard work go to waste so to make yourself feel better, you secretly bought a pair of lingerie and took some photos on your macbook. its not like you were going to show them to anyone, you just wanted to feel good about yourself.

it was the next day, your parents were at work so it was only the three of you at home. you were in the kitchen getting something to drink while the two were doing god knows what. you stood there in your loose tee and some boxer shorts minding your own business when patrick came down looking for you, wearing only his boxers.

"i need to look something up and art said i can borrow your laptop" you absentmindedly nodded, distracted by his appearance. you told him it was on your bed as you sipped your water. it took you a few minutes to register what he was asking for and by the time you went to stop him, he had already gone up the stairs. you nearly drop your glass on the sink, running to go after him.

no no no no. you had forgotten you took photos of yourself, intimate– let's be honest here, pornographic photos, just the night before and you didn't close the photobooth app or hid them in folders. it's not like you knew this was going to happen.

by the time you had gotten to your room, he was already on your bed with your laptop on his lap. his eyes wide as he took in what was on the screen, it was growing uncomfortably hot in your room and tight in his boxers.

"patrick" your voice was soft, nervous. his eyes met yours and he nearly groaned as he took in your appearance, your chest rose up and down quickly as you had just ran up the stairs. your eyes were glassy and your lips plump and wet.

was he going to tell your brother what he saw? your parents? was he going to talk and laugh about you to other people? you felt embarrassed, scared. and yet as he continued to stare at you, you began to feel yourself getting soaked through your underwear.

he closed the laptop, pushing it aside. he stood up and walked over to you, with an undescribable look in his eyes that made you step back. was he angry? upset? your thoughts were cut off as he leaned down, you could feel his breath on your neck.

"keep your door unlocked tonight."

[mulloey]

me or the ps5 • san

warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, san not being a v good boyfriend at the start, punishment, impact, crying, reader is called slut and whore, safeword mentioned but not used, implied blowjob, meanie san til he goes soft for u

———————

Hours.

It’s been fucking hours now, and he hasn’t said a word to you. Normally you’re fine with his gaming habit, most young men have one and he doesn’t do it very often, but he’d left you high and dry this morning, rutting against you a few times, fingers tracing your inner thighs before walking out of the room with a small smile. It’s his favourite game; working you up then pulling away just as he’s got you going. He says it makes you more pliant and desperate when you fuck which is true, but damn if it doesn’t piss you off.

You’ve already tried and failed to get his attention, slipping into the shorts he only lets you wear around him and finding every excuse to bend over in front of him, but he barely looked away from his game for long enough to notice. You’d huffed, whining out his name in frustration but all you’d gotten from that was that sharp ‘behave yourself’ look before he was back on that damned game.

You’ve been sulking since then, storming around the house and muttering to yourself about revenge but that’s not enough. If he thinks he can ignore you all day to play that stupid game, he’s dead fucking wrong. You will win, even if you have to play dirty. And playing dirty is exactly what you’ll do.

From the back of your closet you retrieve an unopened pink bag containing lingerie you’d bought for him but never had a chance to wear; it was so sexy that you’d decided to keep it for when you really needed it. When nothing else gets you what you want. Like now, for example.

You slip it on, fastening and adjusting it until it fits you perfectly. You’d forgotten how hot this set was; it curves and highlights all of the parts of your body he loves the most, teasing and tempting but leaving nothing to the imagination. If this won’t get his attention, nothing will.

You’re already wearing makeup from your earlier escapades so it doesn’t take long to touch yourself up before you pull on some thigh high socks, clipping them to your garter and spraying yourself with his favourite perfume and skipping towards your target.

He doesn’t look up when you enter, still focused on the game. Not for long. You approach him from behind, making yourself as attractive as you can, but he’s so immersed you know it could take hours for him to actually turn around. A plan quickly forms in your head and you smile, knowing the line you’re toeing. You’re about to get either the best fuck or worst punishment of your life, and right now, both sound good.

You manage to get under the desk undetected, slipping in from the side and positioning yourself so your face is level with his cock. You run a hand up his thigh towards it, finally alerting him to your presence but he keeps playing, as of yet unbothered. You quickly free his cock and wrap your mouth around it as much as you can — he’s by far the biggest you've had, so you can’t fit all of it in your mouth without suffocating, but he’s taught you how to please him even without deepthroating. But you barely have time to put that knowledge into practice before there’s a harsh grip in your hair, tugging you out from under the desk and bringing you face to face with your fuming boyfriend.

“Up to something, slut?” He snaps. “What’s this game huh?”

You shrug, plastering as innocent a smile as you can feign across your lips. “Just wanted to make you happy, Sannie,” you sing.

He snarls, pulling you to your feet by the grip he has of your hair, and you feel almost victorious when he finally notices your getup and stills, whatever he was about to say now caught on his tongue. He looks you up and down, silent for a few seconds. “When did you get that, whore?”

“A while ago,” you giggle. “Wanted to surprise you.”

He laughs but his eyes are dark and calculating — he knows your game, but you know his too. “You want to fuck me now, don’t you?” You whisper.

“I do,” he says. “And if you’d found a better way of getting my attention, I would have, but you just had to be a brat.”

You frown. “Nothing else worked.”

“That’s a shame,” he says, shaking his head sadly. “Because I was about to finish up and reward you for waiting so patiently, but instead I have to do this.”

He grabs your arm and yanks you towards him, feigning a sad look at you before quickly manoeuvring you to bend over his knee. “Do one thing right and stay still,” he mutters, and that’s all the warning you get before his hand is crashing down onto your ass.

Your boyfriend’s punishments are always harsh but these hits are relentless, fast and hard and randomly spaced so you have no way of knowing where the next one will land. Whether it’s your behaviour or the frustration caused by his game that’s got him so ruthless, you curse yourself for choosing a thong to tempt him with, because now you have no protection from his hits as they land on your bare ass. You do your best to stay still like he told you but before long you’re writhing and crying in his lap, squirming to get away from the burning pain that only increases as he continues, but his other hand is firm on your back, holding you down and at his mercy. The pain is intense and all you can focus on. You must make a pathetic sight, with your resolve to provoke him lost embarrassingly quickly, and the most humiliating part is he doesn’t even acknowledge you. Your safeword dances briefly on your tongue, and the screaming pain in your ass begs you to say it but you shake your head at yourself, determined to see this through.

Soon a particularly hard hit lands in the centre of your ass, right above your hole and you gasp out “Sannie'' at the impact. You hear him groan and his hand stills above your red skin. However tough he pretends to be, your nickname for him melts him every time you say it — especially when it’s cried out between the pretty tears you shed for him.

He starts up again but this time the hits are slower, more rhythmic and he grants you the mercy of alternating between each cheek so at least you know where he’ll hit next. Your head clears enough for you to register his voice as he tells you, “ten more, baby”. You sniffle and nod your head and he starts up again.

After what feels like endless hits the last ten aren’t too horrible, and you manage to count them out in your head. When the last hit lands he soothes you immediately, bundling you up to rest your head on his shoulder and wipe your tears. Normally he lets you languish in his lap for a while after a punishment, making you recite what you’d done to deserve it before allowing you to get up but this is the harshest you’ve been punished in a while, so he lets you just sniffle into his chest instead as he runs a soothing hand up and down your back.

You calm down eventually, enough to lift your head from his tear-stained shirt and he strokes your red cheeks. “Now,” he says softly. “You gonna interrupt me again?”

You shake your head, sniffling. “Never.”

He smiles at you, all love and softness in contrast to the stern persona he’d worn just minutes earlier, but somewhere between his hand squeezing your throbbing ass and the mischievous glint in his eye, you gather he’s not quite done with you.

“Now let’s finish what you started, huh?” He suggests and you smile. In the end, you've gotten exactly what you want.

———————

a/n: im back guys! explanation for my absence in my last post:) please comment and reblog, its a big motivator! requests open too!

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Every step to win your heart.

König x FEM reader.

Short version, your little crush turned into a dark obsession with this big guy. You weren't expecting he could actually fall for you.

Warning: Stalking, spying, mentions of drugs, Grammatical and spelling errors, image not mine. I think there's no specific description of the reader so you can read it as a Neutral too.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

König barely goes to his house, he prefers to work without stopping. But after almost 4 months without appearing there he decides after this mission he would take some rest.

You've been observing him for a while, you're like his shadow, poor guy, he doesn't even know about your existence but you already know some good things about him.

His morning routine, his favorite fruit, the size of his clothes and combat boots, you already know that he likes the cloth softener with that baby smell, you know he prefers the minimalism deco at home, he doesn't like the raw yolk egg and sometimes he simply eats the egg white with fresh grounded black pepper and salt, he eats pancakes and waffles without honey or any other topping, coffee needs to be black without sugar but if you offer him some tea he likes with two teaspoons of sugar and a little bit of milk.

How do you know all these things about him without even talking to him? Simple, you've been following him everywhere, spying on him, of course in your mind everything is innocent, you can't see the dark side of your obsession. All started after he saved you, you were a hostage a few years ago, he arrived and rescued you and your parents, he was kind and very protective over you and the other hostages, you couldn't avoid developing feelings for the man.

It was hard to find him, his name and everything about his personal information was a secret, until one day you saw a man, tall and muscular, bright dark brown hair, blue eyes and a perfect nose, some scars accentuating his features just walking by the street, he went inside a grocery store and bought a bottle of sparkling water, you weren't sure but something told you that body and the way he was walking was familiar to you, quickly you crossed the street and went inside the grocery store too, observing him more close, definitely was him, you confirmed it after you heard his accent and his voice.

That was the beginning, you quickly understood he was rarely at home, you found his address walking behind him, you saw where he usually saved his keys, he never felt your presence you were quiet and discreet so it was easy, you passed a great part of your time spying on him, if you weren't working you were searching and spying.

Today is the day of your master plan, you've been waiting for him out of the base where he works, you know he's there, finally at 19:00h, he appears with another man, not so tall and with asiatic features, both talk and then say goodbye, that's when you turned on your car and started to drive slow, you know he lives close to his work so he simply walks, he enjoys to walk everywhere.

Once you're sure he will go directly to home you drive fast to arrive before him, you park in front of his house, no one is out observing you, so you quickly pinched your car's tire and ran quickly to König's principal door, you put a strange liquid on the lock and handgrip, it's simply to make him faint, then you go back to the car, now you wait to see him arrive and ask him for help.

There he comes, his face is serious and lacklustre, you leave the car and ask him for help.

- Hey, excuse me, I'm so sorry to bother you but could you help me? I have a flat tire and I don't know how to fix it, my phone's dead and you're the first person I see walking here...

Clearly annoyed he agrees and asks you to give him your Toolbox and spare tire. While he holds the tire you decide to put some more liquid on the tools he will be using to fix that flat tire.

König doesn't feel any effect until he finishes his work with your tires, you're very friendly and somehow he feels like he has seen you before but doesn't know where or when.

-Ja, Kein Problem (yes, no problem)... Ah...Have I seen you before?

You offer him a kind smile and before you can answer you can see his face, he doesn't feel well. König feels like his head is spinning and feels sleepy, he doesn't say anything else and simply walks as fast as possible to his door, he opens it with a lot of difficulty but once the door is open, he falls on the floor.

You quickly walk to him, once you're sure he's not hurt you drag him inside the house, it was more difficult that you expected but finally he's on his bed. You close his bedroom door and go quickly to grab his backpack and park your car in his garage.

König wakes up feeling nauseous as if he drank too much the previous night or something, then after a couple minutes he realizes he slept in underwear, he doesn't remember when he changed his clothes, his head hurts, his boots are clean and in his usual place, why can't he remember when he did all those things? Finally, the sound of music catches his attention, He's not alone.

Quickly but silently he tries to stand up and tries to grab a small gun he has under the nightstand beside his bed, unfortunately he realizes he's chained to the bed, he thinks he's not being listened to but in fact you already heard him, you're simply finishing to decorate his plate for the breakfast, after a few minutes he can hear steps walking through the corridor of his house, the music comes from the kitchen and it's not only music, the smell of food fills his lungs and then a voice, singing.

What the hell is going on? You're standing on his bedroom door with a tray full of meals, He observes your body and the way you move, you're very pretty but... Why are you there? Are you dangerous? What do you want from him?. You gasp a little excited, he's awake, but sadly he doesn't seem happy.

- Who are you? What are you doing in my house and what do you want from me?

- Hi, you're finally awake, I'm y/n and I bring you the breakfast... König calm down please.

Your pleading eyes can't convince him, he needs more answers.

- What do you want from me? HOW DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? TELL ME!

- I... I can explain it, just... Calm down... I'm not a menace.

he quickly considered his options and then he nodded. You point at his bed to indicate you will put the tray there.

He doesn't look at somewhere else but your eyes, he's focused on your eyes. Once the tray is over the bed you step back, you're ready to explain yourself but the sea of questions starts again.

- How do I know you will not try to poison me? What do you want from me?

- Eat first, I spent the whole morning cooking all your favorite meals. You haven't eaten since... God knows when.

He finally looks at the tray in front of him, indeed, there's a lot of food, all his favorites for breakfast, but then he looks at you, his look says he still doesn't trust in your word.

- König, if I wanted to hurt you I could do it while you were... Unconscious, instead of that, I cleaned the fresh wound you have on your bicep and your thigh, I cleaned your boots and knives, your laundry and I cooked for you. Once again, I'm not a menace.

He takes the plate and before starting to eat he sees a small note at one side of the plate «welcome home 🩷». Home? When was the last time someone felt happy to see him? When was the last time he felt that his house was actually a home? For him it was just the place where he can go whenever he feels seriously tired of his comrades at work.

His thoughts are interrupted by you when he listens to your question.

- Is it good? I hope it tastes good...I tried to make it in the way you usually do it.

He can't lie, it actually tastes better than when he cooks.

- Yes, it is. Can you tell me what you want now?

- It's a long story... But I've been looking for you, observing you, following you since... I don't know, maybe you don't remember but you saved me and my parents and some other hostages, we were in a hotel, you saved us.

- Ja! I remember, it was like 5 years ago. So what?

- Well, maybe for you it was as any other successful mission, but for me it was... A realization about the kind of man I wanted for me. You stole my heart, König.

You approach König who's now observing you as if you were insane, you slowly kneel down in from of him.

- I looked for you, for months until I found you, then I started to follow you everywhere, learning about you, the things you like, the thing you hate, your story, who you were when you were young, what you did during your young years...

He's quiet, he can't believe your words, your innocent look is adorable and almost convincing but all this 'love' that turned into something else, something dark but strangely... Attractive, makes him feel out of place, something unexpected.

Of course women approach him occasionally, but he never gives them a chance, he has always been alone, he never thought someone could give him love, that's why he never went through relationships or meeting people in a romantic way. Now you're here, in front him, you literally kidnapped him in his own house to finally introduce yourself, talking about love, is he dreaming?

- König, I know maybe it wasn't a good way to do it and you have all the reasons to not trust me, but I noticed when women try to get close to you, you leave, I didn't want you to run away...

- I don't run, I just reject them. Do you think I'm a man who can have love? I am not the man you created in your head.

He says it without caring, he doesn't even look at you, but it's not because he doesn't care, he wants to know if you're talking seriously.

- You're. I Know very well who you are... and if you want to reject me, fine. But I'm not going to give up, do you understand? When I want something I get it in a way or another.

- Is that a menace, Liebling?

He finally stares at you, your look is not bright and innocent, is dark, determined and cold.

- It's a warning, baby. So, you have two options, give me a chance now that I'm doing everything for the good way or call the police and send me away, but trust me when I say this. Your missions will be the least of your problems, I will not give up, you will not keep me away, I'll be there, I'll be like your shadow, hunting you, step by step until I can finally call you mine.

König smirks. You unchained him from the bed and walked away, he stays there thinking about you and your words, he can't lie to himself. You're pretty, hot and you look smart, the determination in your eyes and voice, you send shivers through his spine, he continues eating, after all, you spend the morning cooking, for him, you cooked for him, no one cared about him in that way, the few times he tried to be with a woman, they don't even offer him a glass of water or show at least a little bit of affection, they just wanted a quick fuck.

Now you're here, craving for his acceptance, for his affection. He's not afraid of you or your warnings, he simply thinks he's not in a position to reject you.

He walks to the kitchen and there you are Washing dishes and singing in a low voice. He stops and observes you, such a tiny doll, he could easily erase you from the map, but, he already made a decision.

He slowly walks to you, at this point you already feel his presence, you're waiting for his next move. Suddenly a pair of strong arms are around your waist, the warmth of his Chest and abdomen is pressed against your back.

You waited for this moment, since he appeared in your life, you saw this moment in your dreams, now it's happening, you close your eyes and slowly turn to him, you return the hug.

- You have one chance, that's all.

- I'll make it worth.

You kept your promise, it was slow since he was in long missions, but he started to enjoy the attention you had with him. When he was at home you had plenty of dates and time together, sometimes he was concerned about how jealous and possessive you could be but he admitted, it was a great feeling.

Every time he was back in the base he called you to let you know he was alive, when he would be at home and to know how you were doing.

Once you knew he would be at home, you cleaned the entire house and spent your day cooking, you bought him flowers, beer, candles and prepared him a hot bath.

When he arrived at the door you always jumped on him, kissing his face, he loved it, König never expected he could actually feel that happiness, eventually he invited you to meet some of his colleagues, everybody adored you, he was a proud man, he loved you, he fell hard for you.