#and also the style looks completely at home in him

[back2bluesidex]

Slippin' Under - JJK (18+) [Part 3]

Pairing: Bully!Jungkook X Fem!Reader ft. Jimin

Theme: angst, toxic workplace settings, bullying, class difference, haters to lovers au

Word count: 1k+

Summary: "You're toxic, I'm slippin' under"

Warnings: workplace bullying, insulting the reader based on her social stature, class difference, Jungkook is a shit.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

A/N: here we go. also, taglist requests are closed for now.

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Sometimes you think, Park Jimin doesn’t walk, he flows. 

There’s a simplicity in his presence that demands attention, that is overpowering. His easy smile, fluffy but pleasantly styled blonde hair, his full lips, his moon crescent eyes - he has the power of making people fall in love easily. 

Maybe that’s a part of why you developed this teeny-tiny crush on him. 

You don’t expect to see him during this hour at all - but you didn’t expect yourself to work this late either. Even though you should have been prepared and you should be grateful that Jeon Jungkook decided to make you pay for his expensive suit by making you overwork and not by docking your pay. 

Jimin knocks on your desk making you tear your eyes away from the computer. Your eyes go momentarily wide as you realize it’s Park Jimin himself. You scramble to get up and bow in respect, “Mr. Park, good evening.” 

Jimin chuckles sweetly, placing his hands inside his pockets. The sound makes warmth bloom inside your chest. 

“Good evening, Y/N. But why are you still here? You should have left for home hours ago.” Jimin places his question. 

“I need to complete reviewing these files within today… so yeah.” you reply honestly. 

Jimin downcast his eyes on the pile of the files, “and when were you assigned with these?” 

“After lunch today.” there is no need to hide anything, this is not your fault. Typically, by company rules, employees can not be assigned with new work post-lunch, unless absolutely urgent. 

And these files - these aren’t due for next two weeks. 

“These aren’t urgent, are they?” Jimin’s eyes now meet yours. There's a question and there’s also understanding in his kind, brown orbs. 

“No,” you look at your hands now. 

“Okay. You can leave for the night.” Jimin says with finality. You know this should be it. Technically, Jimin serves at a higher position than Jungkook. If half of the company is on Jungkook’s mother’s name, then the other half belongs to Jimin’s father. 

It’s not a secret that Jimin and Jungkook are cousins. Everyone knows how their father and mother (who are cousins as well) brought up the kids together. There’s only one thing that goes beyond your understanding, that is - if Jimin and Jungkook grew up together then how can Jimin be the sweetest creature on earth and Jungkook is just the polar opposite? 

Jimin snaps his fingers before your face and only then you realize you zoned out earlier. 

“Y/N, you heard me?” Jimin questions, the slight hint of concern in his voice makes your heart swell. 

“Yes, yes, Mr. Park. but I- this won’t take much time. I can complete these within an hour. I can go home after that.” you don’t like to admit but pissing off Jungkook anymore than you already have doesn’t seem like a good idea. 

“It’s 9 at night.” Jimin’s voice turns a little authoritative now, “stop working and wait here till I come back.” he orders, you only nod. 

He leaves you at your place and disappears towards Jungkook’s room.

You hear footsteps again as you are packing your things up. When you look up expecting Jimin, your eyes meet with Jungkook’s first. 

As always, his eyes bear more disgust than your entire body can gather. 

“Y/N” Jimin calls your name, you divert your attention to him, “Jungkook will drop you home.” 

What? What? Your throat constricts before you can protest. Jungkook continues to glare at you. 

“I- Mr. Park, I don’t need a ride. Buses and the subway run till midnight. I can manage on my own.” you manage to say when the initial shock is over. 

“Jungkookie mistook these files as urgent. He should have checked thoroughly before making you work overtime. It’s his fault, so he should be the one to take the responsibility.” Jimin defends his brother with a smile. You very well know that Jungkook didn’t make any mistake - it was very much intentional but there’s no point in saying anything now.  

“Mr. Park, that’s alright. I can-” you try your hardest to get out of the situation. There’s no way you would like to spend an additional thirty minutes near Jeon Jungkook’s vicinity, that too, inside the confinement of his car. 

But Jungkook cuts you off. 

“Let’s go, it’s getting late.” his words slip out of his mouth casually, but you can feel the hint of anger lingering in those. 

“That’s fixed then. Good night to both of you.” Jimin claps his hands together. For a moment you feel like he is celebrating your certain demise. If you come out of this car ride in one piece, that’s going to be astonishing indeed. 

“I can’t believe, I am giving you a ride.” Jungkook’s voice pierce through the silent, stale air of the parking lot. 

The heels of his expensive shoes clink against the cemented floor - you follow him closely behind. 

“Mr. Jeon, you can drop me at the nearest subway station.” you suggest. 

Jungkook stops in his tracks. 

“Why? Want me to get scolded again?” he turns to face you, “you bitched about me, didn’t you?” 

“I only answered the questions he asked.” you reply.  

Jungkook takes two dangerous steps towards you, “you- don’t try to outsmart me. Just because you have hyung’s preference, I am not going to hate you any less.”

You don’t reply. There’s nothing to reply. 

Fortunately enough, the car ride is silent and peaceful. 

There are only a handful of times when you have had the opportunity of sitting in a private car but anything you have ever rode, don’t come near to the experience that Jungkook’s car brings to you. 

The car is spacious, there are a thousand different controls on the dash, the small screen shows your address, the seat feels way too comfortable under your back and butt. You feel like you could sleep here for hours. 

No matter how much you try to stay awake. The soft humming of the engine lulls you to sleep. 

Sounds of loud car horns bring consciousness back to you. 

The first thing you see is Jungkook’s face with a lewd smirk painted on it. 

“I bet you never rode this kind of car in your entire life. It’s more comfortable than your bedroom isn’t it?” he throws one of his usual insults towards you, but you don’t feel bad. Mostly because there’s nothing wrong in his statements. 

You sigh, a sad smile stretches on your face, “You are right. Your car is definitely more comfortable than the room I share with my parents. Thanks for the ride. This is probably the best I have slept in a while.” 

You expect Jungkook to laugh loudly, laugh at your misery, at how different you are from him. But nothing returns other than silence. 

When you pull your eyes up, you see him staring at you - the usual heat of anger and hatred missing this time. 

“And you are okay with it? Okay with not being able to afford what others can?” he questions, inquisitiveness clear in his voice. 

“All of us lack something. I am okay with lacking social status, money or that affordability. I can always work to build it on my own. I have a family, both of my parents are in good health. And I think that’s enough to be grateful for.” you grab your bag, “thanks for the ride, Mr. Jeon.” clicking the door open, you shut it behind. Only to find your mother standing out of the broken gate of your home. 

“Ddal, whose car is this?” she asks. It fills you with dread. Jungkook can insult you as much as he wants, but not your parents. 

Your mother’s sweater has several holes in it, her dress bears a big black spot from her work at the factory. You can’t let him see her like this. You can’t-

“Eomma-” your voice gets cut with a loud thud of the car door being closed. 

“Eomonim” Jungkook walks from the other side of the car and comes to stand right beside you. There’s no mockery in his clear voice. 

He bows in half in greeting. 

“I am Y/N’s colleague at work. My name is Jeon Jungkook..” when he straightens up, you see him grinning wide. 

Your breath stops. 

Is it- is it really the Jungkook you know?

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[catharsisreads]

Praise Be - MDNI 18+

you are too distracting for Gideon to focus on when Jesse is letting him shadow him so he takes you home and denies you touch until he has well and good practiced delivering his sermon.

pairing: Gideon Gemstone x fem!reader

CW: smut, p-in-v, oral, delayed/denied orgasm, religious overtones, degradation? (no name calling or anything like that), softdom!gideon

word count: 8114

a/n: first time writing since high school and i'm well into my 20’s now, pls be gentle.

Gideon is standing from his position on the stage at the Gemstone Church, attempting to keep his eyes open under the harsh spotlights. His father is delivering the last parts of his sermon in true Jesse style, silly anecdotes wrapped around the word of God that inspires the abundant crowd.

Today, Gideon was on stage with his Father in an attempt for him to start feeling more comfortable while delivering his own sermons.

“Boy you’re up there hootin’ n’ hollerin’ ‘til the cows come home,” Jesse heckled at Gideon’s protests. “Your Daddy has heard from the grapevine that im’a better Preacher than your Grandaddy.” With a pointed look and his classic smirk lights his face.

Gideons mouth opened and closed, searching for any reasons that Jesse wouldn’t find a loophole around. “I-I, I- Uh,” Gideon scratches his neck, “Uh, okay, yeah Dad.”

So here he was, standing on the stage at the Gemstone church, his Father making silly quips next to him.

Unbeknownst to Jesse, Gideon’s attention is completely taken by you. He’s had his moments of chiming in to add small agreements but he finds his words limited due to the growing distraction and tension building in his shoulders. He figures he will chalk it up to nerves and his usual fumbling, to his family. Though Gideon doubts his Dad notices due to his desire to be adored by the churchgoers. His focus on wowing the crowd in front of him, thinking Gideon will learn something with the approach.

You are standing front row, with his Mother and brothers, nodding enthusiastically with a proud smile on your face. The air around you seemed to glow with a warm light that calls to him like a beacon in the night. A real life Angel, Gideon thinks.

Gideon knows you are not exactly religious, per se, you have more of a philosophical view of religion. You like to learn, to observe, and figure things out and you wouldn’t say God isn’t real. In your worldview there are lots of truths to many religions that have led you to believe there is more to it. Although, the inquisitive nature of you longed for understanding Gideon and what impassioned him.

The Gemstone siblings try to poke at you for a reaction as they love to do, “Your son is datin’ a girl that don’t even believe in God, Jesse.” Judy mocked, and you just laughed, a bright and airy laugh. A laugh that said you didn’t care too much to entertain Judy’s jabs, something that riles the Gemstone siblings at times. They love to jab, and you just never take anything they say seriously. It's become a bit of a gag within the Gemstone family, trying to find ways to shake you up.

You catch his eye, and send him a wink and a kiss. One that Gideon knows he does not deserve, God knew the sinister thoughts plaguing his mind as he watched you. Gideon, unfortunately for him, is unaware of what his Father is still continuing on about; he vaguely tunes in to hearing Jesse deliver his last parts of his sermon. He knew he wasn’t going to learn much, he just knew this was important to his dad. So here he was to appease his dad and also the hopes to stop his jabs about Eli as his mentor.

“As I stand here and deliver this message today…” Gideon tunes him out again and promises himself he will take a cold shower and devote himself to a lifetime of giving back to the community. He curses himself for having such sinful thoughts while standing on a church stage. Who knows what would have happened? What if he popped a boner while he is meant to be preaching his love for God's word? Or worse, his dad noticed? He would never hear the end of it. It is pathetic, Gideon realizes, how much he could be distracted at the sight of another person. If His Dad noticed, he would be sure to make him feel like a whipped puppy every chance he got.

“Praise Be to He,” Jesse whips, arms raised to the ceiling.

Gideon watches your mouth move in sync with the crowd, “Praise be.” the crowd chants back.

You rode to lunch with Gideon completely oblivious to the shift in his demeanor and tone. You were in the passenger seat ranting about something that happened prior to worship beginning. There was some drama between one of the ladies that attends Amber’s counseling group that caused some tension with Amber and the member before church this morning.

Gideon thought he was done for while he was up on that stage, he did not believe he could get any more flustered than he was. Boy was he wrong– the mere feeling of your body against his sends a flush of heat up his neck. It reminds Gideon of a thought that crossed his mind far too often to count - you are going to be the death of him. Gideon has learned a lot of restraint in his life but his biological responses to you are totally out of his control. He suppresses a groan and tugs faintly at his collar to relieve the constricting feeling around his throat.

The family is gathered around for their usual Sunday lunch at Jason’s Steakhouse. You are sitting to the right of him, arms brushing together. Gideon is acutely aware of the warmth from your arm pressing against the sleeve of his button up. His eyes dart around the table, wondering if anyone can hear his thoughts and knows he is out of it.

Because, Christ? What you chose to wear today makes him wish that he took you straight home after Church— then, maybe, he could finally think clearly. The fitted brown, fabric button up vest top outlines the swell of your breasts, mid length cream colored skirt adorning the curves of your hips. Gideon’s right hand permanently attaches itself to your thigh, the other firmly grasping the stem of his wine glass. He has convinced himself if he holds onto it hard enough, he will keep a grip on his sanity.

Gideon knows the effort is fruitless and he’s been gone for you since the moment he laid his eyes on you this morning but he figures for his dignity with his family, it's worth a shot to try. He found it difficult to focus on the discussion going on at the table but was able to go unnoticed due to Jesse and Judy’s usual bickering about Jesse not giving Judy enough stage time.

When the food arrived, removing his hand from your thigh proved to be a monumental task. His thumb caresses the fabric covering you and gives your thigh a squeeze before removing his hand. The warmth of your body leaves the palm of his hand cold and yearning to find its home between your thighs.

As lunch came to a close, the family gave their goodbyes in traditional Gemstone fashion - very dramatic and with a flair. Gideon walks you to his car with his hand resting on your lower back. A slight breeze tosses your hair over your shoulders and the sweet smell of your perfume and shampoo washes over him. You turn and smile softly at him as he opens the car door for you, “You look good in the spotlight, seemed a bit flustered baby” you paused, “though your Dad is the King of making people flustered.” you joked as you buckled into your seat. Gideon laughed under his breath and shut the door. As he slid into his seat, he stated with a low voice, “flustered for very different reasons than you are thinkin’ darlin’.”

You looked up at the change in his voice, the arch in your brow softening and jaw slightly agape; and with that, he knew he got his point across. You always made jokes about how you feel you’ve corrupted him and whenever Gideon’s dominant side takes hold, you wonder if he was corrupted all along.

The drive home was filled with palpable tension. There was a time you thought Gideon was so gentle and innocent sexually. Fortunately (and at times, unfortunately) for you, Gideon was no innocent and gentle man in the bedroom, when it came to you- he lost himself in his desire. He admits he has had himself a handful of blowjobs and fingering some women on set when he was in LA; it was his idea of continuing the rebellion against his religious background. He never quite desired for these encounters to go any further, which is partially when Gideon did question if he was bisexual.

Approaching the compound, Gideon was not at all focused on anything but getting his damn hands on you. Jesse and Amber had Granddaddy Roy’s house cleaned up for the two of you to live in, until the house Gideon was building on the compound for you two is complete.

With an almost, eerily calm and calculated demeanor, Gideon silently slid out of the car and opened the door for you. He held his hand out for you to grab and with a gentle but firm tug, he pulled you into his chest. The warm breeze blew over your skin and goosebumps arose under the touch of Gideon’s warm hands pushing your hair away from your face. He looked down with a loving smile, a special one that feels only for the two of you, “you are so pretty baby,” he whispered.

His thumb caressed the side of your face, his other hand found its home in the back of your hair and tugged. And just like that, with a blink and a small gasp, his lips were on yours. You adore everything about Gideon - the soft, plumpness of his lips on yours makes your legs tremble and head feel heavy. Your body melts against his and the feeling of your pliancy in his arms spurs him on further. He presses you up against the passenger door of the car and the hand on your face slides down your body and hooks your right leg around his waist.

When he realizes his need for you has caused him to forgo any common sense, he all but has to unglue himself from you. His breathing is slightly heavier as he looks down at your closed eyes and swollen lips, still parted.

“think we should go inside sweetheart, don’t want to risk my Mama seein’ me disrespect the Lord in broad daylight,” he laughed with a grimace.

Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him, “I guess you’re right, I wouldn’t wanna be shot in the ass by your Mom,” you lightly giggled. Gideon huffed out a laugh and shrugged, “not to say he didn’t deserve that one, I told him not to tell Mama.” And like it was never gone, the restraint he had was back on.

He took your hand and gently pulled you towards the house with the same calculation as before. He opens the door and steps to the side with your hand still in his as he guides you in front of him and into the house.

You walk towards the table centered in the foyer, set your clutch down and turn to face Gideon. Immediately, his hands assumed their previous position in your hair and his lips were moving slowly with yours. The focus and intensity of Gideon’s kiss had you feeling dizzy and light, the world around you feeling far away.

Gideon slightly pulled away, “Couldn’t stay focused up there ‘cause of you, couldn’t take my damn eyes off of you,” he murmured.

You let out a low moan and slid a hand up from its spot on his chest to grip his tie, in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer. “God, do you know what you do to me?,” he groaned as a hand scratched down his chest. And you did. Although, if you needed a reminder, the hard outline of his cock through his dress pants is word enough. You hummed, “baby I don’t know if it's a good idea to curse God like that,” with a small smile on your face. Gideon’s lips twitched into a small smile.

He opened his eyes and murmured, “you are an angel.” The light pink hue that bloomed on your cheeks at his adoration made him wonder if this is how God feels with his devout followers.

Gideon slowly took his hands out of your hair and tipped your chin up. His finger traces a slow line across your lower lip, “You are a dream.” he praised, his Southern drawl thickening. You felt breathless, your nerves buzzing with heat at every touch and whisper.

“You had me so distracted, missed some things up there angel” Gideon breathed out, “some real important mentorship tools.” Gideon teased. With a hand still around his tie, you rose up on your tiptoes and whispered close to his ear, “do you wanna know what i was thinkin’ about Sir?.” Gideon groaned and his eyes fell closed. “Kept thinkin’ about how good you would look with your head between my thighs on the stairs of that church stage.” You drawled while leaving a trail of kisses and bites down his neck as you lowered yourself back down to the ground.

You knew poking the bear was a slippery slope when it came to Gideon being this desperate for you, but you also know, it's exactly what he needed. Gideon was a stuntman after all, he enjoys the intensity and adrenaline, and you were no stranger to being on the end of that. The dominant side of Gideon is much more controlled than one might think.

Gideon pulled away, the loss of contact left you feeling cold and wishing you didn’t poke the bear. Well, almost… almost. You knew there was more to come and that was enough to make it worth the punishment.

“Upstairs,” He said with a nod of his head towards the stairs, “be on your knees by the door, clothed.” You blinked at him as his eyes bore back into you. With a small quirk of his brow, you quickly ground yourself and move to scamper up the stairs to the guest room. With your heels still on, you kneel facing the bed with your hands crossed politely in front of you. Head bowed and waiting anxiously beside the bed, you try desperately to stave off the desire for any friction between your legs. This is the one part of Gideon’s religious background displayed in the bedroom; Gideon loves to deny you any sexual pleasure until he deems you deserving of a release.

“it’s our duty to honor our bodies for God, therefore we must not give in to simple pleasures and temptations.” He would tisk with his hands linked in front of him as you knelt beside the bed. The expected position assumed- head bowed and hands politely folded in prayer in front of you.

You inwardly groan as the warm heat radiating from between your thighs burns, giving you a clear sign that you are going to have a difficult time being good. Though it is much harder for your inner people pleaser to not be on your absolute best behavior. You know that will only continue to draw out your punishment- and quite frankly, his cock won’t be inside of you quick enough.

It feels like days before you hear his footsteps slowly ascend the staircase; your nerves feel raw with desire to feel his hands on you. As Gideon enters the room, you keep your head bowed and hands folded in front of you. Gideon stifles a groan seeing you in the innocent position. Well, innocent to the naked eye; he realizes it’s probably fucked up of him to get off at his girlfriend sitting in a prayer position, waiting for something so sinful.

Gideon stops behind you, “you can be such a brat sometimes,” he paused and hummed, “impatient– but you always listen to me real well, don’t you sweet girl?” He moves around you to stand beside you where you can see him. Your warm brown eyes glitter up at him with a red heat on the apples of your cheeks. He breathes out- Gideon realizes he is so far gone.

His blazer had been discarded between the time you arrived home and his current state of undress, tie gone and button up undone. Your thighs press together when your eyes stop at the hair on his chest poking out from his beater and your mouth goes dry. Your eyes slowly meet his eyes and you whimper. The flush up Gideon’s neck and face contrasting the bright blue of his eyes looks like a work of art.

Gideon, all confidence and no awkward fumbling, smirks down at you. He has the audacity to smirk, “what is it sweet girl? What do you need?” You wish you could roll your eyes, but you’re being good this time. You hold in a groan and bite the skin on the inside of your lip knowing he can withstand the bratty attitude knowing he will break you.

“Gideon,” you breathe, “Please.”

You look up at him with pleading eyes, hands still folded in your lap. You know not to touch just yet, he had more pleasure to deny you, but it doesn’t stop you from leaning your body towards his. We had only just begun, and you knew that, “can’t give in just yet baby you know the rules,” He said simply and walked slowly over to the chair across from the bed.

You bore holes in the back of his head, and your shoulders slumped as he walked away. You suppressed the urge to beg, you knew it would do you no good. Gideon starts discarding more of his clothing - gone is his button up, white tank top gone. Your eyes ping pong with his actions as he continues to disrobe. The belt is the most agonizing, the amount of times he has wrapped that belt around your wrists when he was taking you from behind you might be able to open your own megachurch.

He has a curious look on his face that implies different plans, his gaze fixed on the leather in his hand. He holds the belt buckle and wraps the belt around his hand one time.

Your demeanor is crumbling already but you know how well Gideon rewards good behavior. Your thighs tense and flex as you try to maintain any sense of willpower remaining, the anticipation for what is to come building in your lower belly.

He keeps his pants on and sits down, belt still in hand. He stares at you, all calm and cool demeanor that almost makes you want to laugh. You are fighting to maintain a shred of control and he is looking at you like he is waiting to eat the best meal of his life. The tension thickens as Gideon takes a sip of the water from the side table. He grabbed the water after he sent you upstairs, knowing that you both would need something to drink after.

There is a beat of tension where his piercing blue eyes stare back into yours, daring the usual brattiness to surface. Your determination is slowly turning into desperation- instead your brow arches in challenge and you return your head to its bowed position.

He places his water down on the small side table next to the chair and stands, “What’s say I practice delivering my sermon to you?” Gideon breaks the silence of the room. You make a whining sound and hope it conveys ‘Please fucking do anything at this point.’ When Gideon takes this opportunity to deny you pleasure by practicing his sermons, he is hoping you won’t be able to make it through them. When you can’t last he punishes you by finishing his sermon whispered in your ear with two fingers brushing your cervix. .

You feign frustration but truth be told, it's the hottest thing you have ever experienced. Gideon reaches back out to the side table and grabs the custom Bible you bought for him when he decided to pursue becoming a Pastor. You dig your fingernails into the tops of your hands as he walks back to the chair and falls into it with a slight thud.

Agonizingly slowly, Gideon flips open the Bible to Matthew 26:41 and begins delivering his sermon about temptation. How fitting, Gideon snorts to himself. You sit, hands folded and head bowed, listening attentively to his words. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” Gideon pauses and glances up at you, “I sure am willing and weak for you darlin’.” He laughs breathily and continues with his sermon.

The slickness between your thighs continues to pool as the knot in your abdomen begins to tighten with need and anticipation. He is intoxicating to you.

Gideon has the air of a confident Minister when it was just the two of you, he felt powerful. He stands with his Bible in hand and paces a few times before turning to you, continuing with the last parts of his sermon, he approaches you. “As I come to you today, as a humble servant for our God…” He continues to belt out. A snap of the Bible closing startles you out of your Gideon induced stupor.

Bible forgotten and belt in hand, he walks to stand behind you and pulls your hair into a bunch and wraps it around his hand. He pulls the hair taut and gives it a swift tug. A whimper drops from your lips at the contact and slight sting, your head tips back to meet his eyes, “Praise Be to He.” Gideon whispers and drops to his knees behind you. His hands wrap around your shoulders and gently slide down your arms until his chest is pressed to your back and lips brushing your ear. You moan and push your body back against his.

“Gonna try somethin’ new baby,” he hummed, “how's that sound for you sweet girl?” he asked gently.

You let out a frustrated huff, “anything Gid, please, I need you. I’m yours.” Gideon sometimes needed the reminder. The reminder of being his gives him the permission to take care of you the way he knows you need, and God, the way he desperately needs. His green light to take the control he needs, away from you.

“look straight ahead, do not move.” He directed you.

He looks down at the belt wrapped around his hand and unwraps it to hold in both palms. And as if it were a new necklace he was placing on you, he puts the belt around your neck and sweeps your hair to the side. He tightens the belt around your neck to fit just enough that you feel the pressure constrict on your throat but not tight enough that it’s cutting off air. You whimper at the feeling of the cool leather biting against the smoothness of your skin.

Gideon presses slow, gentle bites on your neck and kisses on the leather dawning your throat as his hand snaked around your waist to begin unbuttoning your top from the bottom. The deep V cut of the neck of the shirt leaving Gideon desperate to have his hands and mouth on your perky tits.

“God I cant wait to get you out of this fuckin’ outfit,” he groaned as his fingers worked to get the top off, “been thinking of what you’ve been wearin’ under this all mornin’.” Gideon wasn’t home when you got ready this morning- him and Jesse got to the church early for, in Jesse’s words, “early learnin’s.”

As Gideons fingers approach the buttons close to your breasts, he can’t help but to halt his movements and ghost his fingertips over the slight cleavage peeking out through your top. He denied the touch you were desperate for to continue your torture you are sure. He gets a sick feeling of gratification at the slump in your shoulders. You groaned out with a frustrated huff, “Gideon, seriously, please don’t piss me off right now.” You warned half heartedly.

Gideon just chuckled, “ah, knew this was some silly facade, pretending like you’re such a good girl. When is my spoiled girl ever, not, a brat?” He asked, voice low, lips to your ear. A chill went down your spine at the threat of what he could do with you tonight.

Gideons hands began to grip and paw at your tits. His hands grab two fistfulls of the fabric of your shirt and rips the last few buttons loose. The loose buttons tumble to the rug under your knees, shirt ruined and bra still covering your aching nipples.

He slowly removes himself from your body, rolling his shoulders, and stands beside you. You look up at him as he grabs the remaining length of the belt around your neck. He gives a firm tug, a message to stand. You get up on wobbly legs due to the position you have assumed for the last 40 minutes and face him. Your legs are slightly tingly, both from them falling asleep and the desperation buzzing in your veins.

The skirt you are wearing is still on, your shirt pulled apart and ripped. Wanting to test the boundary, you shrug the rest of the shirt off without waiting for permission. Perky breasts still restricted behind the wine colored lace bra. Gideons cock swells and blood rushes to his head, both of them.

“go ahead,” Gideon says. “I’ll let you have your little moment to be a brat. Won’t give you want you want any faster.” He tisks. He grabs the belt and pulls it a little tighter, you gasp at the lack of air reaching your lungs.

“Come on baby, I know you can be a good girl,” he soothes. “We just gotta break you in a bit tonight.”

He uses the belt as he guides you toward the bench at the end of the bed and sits himself down, “over my knees.” He says, pointedly.

You comply immediately and clamber down to drape yourself over his lap, cheek resting on a pillow. He unclips your bra but makes no move to remove it, his fingers tracing slow lines down your bare back and over the curve of your ass until he reaches the hem of your skirt. His fingers brush the skin on your calf and hike your skirt up over your ass, “look at yourself.” He instructs and nods to the mirror situated in front of the bed.

Gideon groans at the sight of you dawning a pair of cheeky silk panties, wine red to match your bra. His eyes zero in on the cursive G tattooed on the apple of your right cheek, and his mouth dries. His hand ghosts the skin around the tattoo and goosebumps rise in their wake.

“Wh-when did you get this baby?” He stammers. You have plenty of tattoos, which was initially what raised his parents eyebrows at you, but this?

“Got it on Friday Gid,” you cooed and pushed your ass into his hand. You knew how much Gideon likes to feel wanted- needed even. It is a clear sign of ownership for Gideon and it makes his cock throb. Marking yourself permanently with his initial felt fitting, and you are praying to a God you’re not sure exists that it’ll put you out of your misery quicker.

Gideon swallowed and caressed the skin on your ass. His right hand finds a home in your hair- his left hand raises and places two swift, heavy smacks on your left cheek. Your body jerks and you cry out, eyes slamming closed.

“could almost say you were settin’ me up for this, how sinful.” He almost moans. You open your eyes and lock eyes with him in the mirror. His eyes pin yours and his eyebrow quirks up, “keep your eyes on me.”

His hand soothes the bloom of a red hand print, and roughly pulls your panties to the side. His thumb is hooked into the fabric of your panties to keep them to the side. Your backside pushing desperately into the air to find his hand in an attempt to get him to finally give you one touch where you need him the most.

You watch him laugh a little at your desperation and the hand in your hair gives a tug. He untangles the hand in your hair and with a pointer finger he traces down your neck, your spine and switches hands.

Fingers tracing the plump of your cheeks and back of your thighs. His hand slowly ghosts over the slickness of your folds, the wetness gathered on his hands makes him suck in a breath.

When you feel a sudden forceful intrusion of one finger in between your folds, your body pushes forward into the bench below you. The moan you let out sounds cross between a whimper and sigh of relief.

“Oh, yes, please, finally,” you cried and pushed back onto his hand.

And as soon as it was there, it was gone. “What did I say angel?”

You quickly opened your eyes to meet his in the mirror, hand hovering over your ass. His fingers glint in the light with the evidence of your need for him.

His eyes glint with smugness, and hums, “pretty new panties for my pretty girl,” He grins and lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks, “guess that lunch did not satiate my appetite.”. Your thighs press together and you feel the slickness between your thighs, releasing yet another whimper that feels dangerously close to a sob.

The taste of your sweet slickness sticks to his tongue and makes Gideon thirsty for more. His strength is dissolving and he knows he can’t keep the teasing up for long.

He pulls your panties down to your ankles, right hand smacking the back of your thigh lightly, “open up, let me take care of you.” Your thighs fall open on command. “That’s my girl.” He coos.

His hand back in your hair, the other finds your sensitive nub. He gives you a few slow circles and places one finger, then two and starts pumping steadily into you. His senses feel heightened; hyper aware of the whimpers and mewls pouring out of you and the warmth and softness of your plush walls.

He is staring down at your pussy weeping down his ring and middle fingers, “oh look at you.” He says with awe. “My girl has been so good for me today, you look heaven sent.”

His fingers quicken in his pace and his eyes bounce to meet yours, struggling to stay open, in the mirror. Your mouth is hung open, the deep red lip stain on your lips finally smeared from sweat and pressing your face into the pillow under your cheek.

His cock throbs in his pants and he’s so ready to be deep inside of you, feeling every part of you. His fingers twist and curl inside you. You feel a small knot building in your lower belly and your hips jerk and grind down onto his hand. Gideon is mostly a giving man, but sometimes he likes to be selfish, this being one of those moments he hesitantly retracts his fingers to halt any pleasure that was cresting.

You groan out and stare at him in the mirror, “gotta earn it baby.” And gives you a sharp smack on your clit. You whine out and glare at him, bottom lip pouting out.

Gideon loves this part- there’s a certain point at which your resolve and determination breaks and you become needy and whiny. It’s the moment he knows you’re going to be boneless and lovingly doting on him all afternoon, even more so than usual. You are very independent, which Gideon adores about you, he just takes great pleasure in you looking to him to take care of you.

Gideon coos at you, “is my girl getting needy?” He asks, the hand in your hair untangled and caressing your head. He grabs the length of the belt and turns it around your neck for it to be behind you. He tightens the belt around your neck and cuts off the circulation for.. one beat… two beats.. a gasp.. and then it’s loosened. He didn’t pull it tight enough that you’re choking, just tight enough your head floats and your lungs burn.

He uses the belt and turns your face into the pillow, grabs the length and pulls for you to get up. “Up now baby,” On shaky legs you stand and Gideon stands beside you and tugs at the front of the bra still unclipped and hanging loosely on your chest and tosses it to the floor.

His eyes drop to your chest, his hand reaches out and pulls a nipple between his thumb and pointer finger and rolls the sensitive bud. Your lips part and you let out a shaky breath– his eyes snapping to meet yours.

“stand at the corner of the bed and face it” He directs.

You walk to face the corner of the bed, skirt bunched at your hips and wait for Gideon.

He walks to the closet and grabs another one of his belts and walks back to you. He stands chest against your back and wraps the belt around your wrist and secures it to one of the posters on the four bed frame. Ensuring it is tight enough to keep you steady, his hands ghost up your arms and slide down the length of the belt at your neck, “bend forward darlin’.”

He takes a couple steps back for you to get comfortable, the belt slides down the bar with some resistance as you assume the position. Your legs are spread apart and your heels are still on. His hands grip your hips and slide up your waist and grab a handful of your breast.

He removes his hands and behind you, starts to unbutton his pants. He watches your legs tremble and hurries to step out of his pants. He fully disrobes himself and gets on his knees behind you and uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, “Praise Be.” He praises at the sight. The glistening of your folds, your plush thick thighs flexing, and arms pulled taut beckons him forward and he feverishly licks a stripe between your folds. One thumb pressing back into your wet hole and slowly pumping in and out as his tongue works at your sensitive clit. Your nails are digging into the wood of the poster bar of the bed.

He groans, removes his thumb and mouth, and stands behind you. “think you’ve done enough pretty girl, you’ve been such a good girl baby.” Arms and shoulders slightly strain at the tension. He wraps his hand around your hips, gives himself two pumps for relief and lines himself up. “We all deserve salvation,” he whispers. And then he slowly, too slowly for your liking, pushes himself into you.

Your hands grasp at nothing due to being wrapped around the bar, and you moan out. Your shoulders slump with relief at the feeling of him being inside you. Gideon is definitely a typical man in many ways, not liking condoms is one. Mostly it’s because he loves the plushness of your walls against his sensitive nerves. The other reason is he just loves filling you up.

You never complain though, the intimacy of the rawness makes you feel alive and more connected to him. He stays still inside of you for a moment, letting himself feel all of you, eyes glued to where he’s fully connected to you.

“Angel,” he moaned, high and breathy, “you were made for me.” He feels high on you.

Your hips jerk involuntarily against him as he stands still behind you. He’s quickly jerked out of his stupor at the friction your hips caused, urging him to grip the belt around your neck.

He looks down once more still in place behind you, hoping he can burn this sight into his brain. Bent at the hips, wrists tied to the poster board bed and head straight up staring at the poster board in front of you with his belt wrapped around your neck.

The other hand finds a bunch of the back of your skirt, pulls out slowly and then slams back in. He gives a few more harsh slams, one hand still gripping the belt. Your head bobbles back and forth making half hearted moans and chokes when he almost pulls himself out of you, belt pulled taut choking off the sounds.

“Gideon,” you choke out. The words to follow dying on your tongue when you feel the tip of his cock brush your cervix. You feel way too full to think clearly and your body ignites, muscles in your arms burning from the tension and exhaustion.

The fiery sensations flooding through your body seem to be on a crash course straight to the knot building your lower belly. Gideon knows you’re getting close, he can feel the slight pulsing and flexing of your walls around him.

“I am so sorry darling’, so sorry.” He repeats like he’s repenting his sins, “I promise I’ll take care of you, im sorry baby.”

In your blissed out, near orgasm state, you are confused as to why he’s apologizing so profusely. it’s quickly answered when you’re left feeling empty and cold.

Gideon pulls out of you with ease, hands unraveled from the belt and skirt. Your head slumps forward, neck burning from the position. This time a choked out sob leaves your throat at the frustration of being denied again and partially due to the level of desperation you have hit. He moves to remove the belt around your wrist and seats himself back onto the bench.

Your body feels weak and you can tell you’re wrecked. Your skirt is loose around your hips from the grip Gideon had on it and your hair is sticking to your face and the back of your neck. Gideon wants more, he wants to see the mascara running down your face and spit dripping down your chin.

Sitting naked on the bench, pink cock standing hard and wet he looks up at you. Your mouth waters looking at his cock, “Gid, can I please, please, suck your cock?” You beg him, voice floaty and eyes teary.

Gideons face is fucked out already, his hair is a mess, the rose of his face and his lips are a deeper shade of pink. He’s got red bites scattered on his neck, a beautiful compliment to the litter of freckles on his face.

Pupils blown and eyes glistening, he motions for you to kneel in front of him, permission to finally touch him. You haven’t touched him once and you’re dying to get your hands on him.

You kneel in front of him and look up at him, eyes dark with need. You tilt your head, knowing to fulling await permission.

Gideon rewards good behavior. We all deserve salvation, after all.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he coos, “mine.”

You eagerly reach a hand out and grip his length in your hand. You feel the stickiness clinging to him and use the lubrication to create a comfortable friction to give him a few pumps.

He groans and looks down at you, the enthusiasm you express whenever you give him a handy or blowjob drives him fuckin’ crazy. There’s a slight smile on your face, eyes dark, half lidded and locked completely on his cock. You look drunk on his cock and he knows he has you where he wants you.

You move forward to lick a strip on the underside of his cock, tracing the vein to the nerves on the underside of the tip. Tracing small lines on the tight bundle of nerves, you stick your tongue out and give his cock a heavy slap to your tongue.

Whenever he groans or bucks his hips, your advances are further spurred on. A dark chuckle drops from your mouth, and in the context they’re in, it makes his cock feel like it’ll explode.

You look intent on sucking his cock dry and sending him straight to heaven. It makes him debate, giving you control. He definitely will not, but he does genuinely give it a thought.

“Baby, baby, please,” he groans, “let me feel your mouth.”

If you weren’t feeling so needy, you might have been more bratty and edged him for a bit. He loves that. You decide you’ll save it for later.

You wrap your mouth around the head of his cock and push your tongue to the nerves on his tip. You suction yourself around his tip and trace your tongue in circles.

His hands are in your hair, messily keeping it back for you. His eyes are rolled back and the muscles in his stomach are flexing. The string of profanities leaving his mouth are a stark comparison to the man he was an hour ago, delivering that sermon.

“Fuck, shit, shit, Jesus Christ… holy shit… fuck fuck.. baby please fuck.”

With your cheeks hollowed and mouth suctioned onto Gideons cock, you take him whole. Cock hitting the back of your throat and holding him there.

The moan he lets out is shuddering and his hips buck into your throat. It gags you slightly at the force, coating your mouth with more saliva. You bob your head up and down, stopping to pay attention to the head.

You let go with a pop, a trail of saliva from your mouth and give some attention to his balls. Sucking them slightly into your mouth and pumping him up and down with the other hand. At the tip you give slow twists with your hand and return your mouth to his cock.

Gideon is a mess above you, resolve crumbled. With little to no strength to stop you, he musters enough to grip your hair and tug. Knowing it’s your sign to stop and needing a release desperately, you don’t fight it. You take your mouth off of him and look up at him again, mouth wet and mascara smudged from the tears in your eyes.

How many times has he wished he could burn images of you into his brain? He doesn’t know. The sight of you wrecked like this makes his heart ache. He loves you so much and he genuinely never thought he would have this trust.

“I love you darlin’,” he says low and intimate and presses a kiss to your forehead. Tired eyes look back at each other and his lips find yours. He pulls you to stand with him and picks you up, your legs wrap around his waist.

Gideon sometimes will turn it slow and intimate or it’ll continue on the rough and desperate path. The love swelling in his chest guides his choice this time– slow and intimate.

He walks you two to the bed and he places you on the bed and gestures for you to lie back. You lie back and Gideon crawls up your body, his hands caressing the side of your face with his thumb. He places a kiss on the tip of your nose and his attention turns to your neck.

He’s leaving slower kisses, more intimate. Ones that make your skin burn in a blush- face adorned with a small bashful and sleepy smile.

One of his hands sneaks down and tweaks your nipple on its way down to gripping your thigh in his hand. He slips a finger between your folds and lines himself back up with you and pushes in.

Your legs lock behind his hips and your hands tangled in his hair. Gideon is propped on his elbows beside your head, one hand gently cradling your cheek. His mesmerizing blue eyes stare, dark and fiery, back into yours.

The glittering in your eyes, Gideon identifies as love and adoration makes his heart beat faster. Pure and devout love and affection that you hold for him. He puts his forehead against yours and hums.

“I love you my girl,” he whispers

“I love you Gid. So much.” You emphasize.

His eyes flutter close and he starts to thrust into you again. These thrusts are slow, deep, and hard- it feels intense and all encompassing. The room is filled with the sounds of your sins.

Your hips roll with his to match his pace and intensity. You can’t think straight and your ears are ringing, your only working sense is your touch– every single nerve ending feels raw and exposed.

The knot in your stomach returns quickly, desperate to finally let go, and this time Gideon isn’t going to deny you what you’ve earned so well, “know you’re almost there” he teases. “Let go of yourself for me angel.”

And you do– an explosion in your lower belly makes fireworks shoot behind your eyes. Your back arches and neck tenses from the taut position you were in earlier. You’re vaguely aware you are now the one letting out a string of profane language, cursing God and everything holy.

You look back up at him when you finally come back to your body, eyes half lidded and red, and face fucked out. The blissed out look on your face and sleepy smile makes him break. His hips lose their even rhythm and he pushes one hip back a bit further to drive himself deeper into you.

“Need it to fill you deep baby.” he halfheartedly groans out as he buries his head in your neck. His hand on your cheek grips the hair on the side of your head and he feels the searing hot release paint your cervix.

He moans out your name and both of your bodies melt at the release of dopamine. His cock is still inside you as he lowers your legs and himself down on to you. He kisses you, slow and deep and kisses your forehead.

You smile at him lazily and ruffle his hair, “you are devastatingly handsome Gid.” You yawn.

The blush on his face returns, “let’s get cleaned up and have us a nap angel.” You nod in agreement and wonder if you’ll be awake long enough.

He pulls out of you and rolls off the bed. He pads to the bathroom and starts a bubble bath for the two of you. Your body feels like boiled noodles and Gideon feels like he has been away too long.

You sometimes (always) get slightly (very) clingy after sex that intense with Gideon. In the grand scheme, he’s probably been gone for five minutes.

“Ready, baby?” He interrupts your thoughts and you giggle. You reach out to him with one hand and he pulls you into a sitting position onto the edge of the bed.

He smiles a sweet smile, “somethin’ funny or was my girl just worried i left her again?”

And with that, you giggled again. “I know I know, it’s silly I just miss you baby.” You kiss him, “you leave me too long.” Another kiss.

“I’ll never leave you.” He declared, “mean that.” A declaration of forever that breaks the lighthearted air of the room.

You looked up with bleary eyes and smiled gently, “okay baby,” you affirmed, “I’ll be holding you to it.”

He let out a breathy laugh and guided you to the bathroom. You curl up with Gideon in the hot water and let him massage your sore neck, “hope that nothin’ hurts baby, let me take care of you.”

You hum, “I feel so good Gid.” You let out a sigh and lean your head back on his shoulder. His deft hands kneaded the tense muscles in your shoulder and your head lolled to the side for more access.

Your hands are on his thighs in the water, right hand rubbing gentle circles on the inner knee, “did you miss anything too critical today?” You asked suddenly, “know this is important for you baby.” The caring part of you, the one Gideon fell for in the first place, returning to you as your senses came back one by one.

“Darlin’ it’s my Dad, im sure it was nothin’ I couldn’t have figured out myself.” He insisted.

“Besides, there is no better practice than delivering my sermon to my best audience.” And kissed your shoulder.

“Praise be to He.” You answered with a laugh.

[pixelatedquarter]

Synopsis found on the backs of these VHS covers and a brief statement about this era of films:

The Collection:

This is the second era in 88 LAX’s time as a professional studio, having gained notoriety with their “Take This To Your Grave” era, which would launch them into international renown and afford them the backing of powerful names in the industry. It’s marked by the uncertainty of making it, by love gone wrong, by being an outsider in your own skin, by secrets, by fame manifesting as horror at every step of the way but also by lasting friendship; with a troubled production moving to a bigger studio that tints it and informs the themes especially when they take a darker tone. They’ve grown and settled in their production dynamic with a more stable screenwriting process than before this which really shines through and cements the unique and ever evolving style of the studio.

Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued:

Join our (almost) famous friends as they embark in a misadventure for the young and reckless, or take their advice and don’t! LAX 88 Studios kicks off their new era as a big name studio with this deceivingly charming christmas movie.

Of All The Gin Joints In All The World:

Headaches, bad luck, a crash, makeup stains on a pillowcase. That’s what fame is all about right? Oh the ways life can change for our protagonists, trying to stick together despite it all in this fated van trip.

Dance, Dance:

“One night can change it all!” Our group of beloved nerds navigate their way through prom and all of its hijinks in this absurdist comedy that will leave you wanting more! With their highschool winning a contest and having internationally superstar band Short Story, Unhappy Ending performing at their prom, their uncanny resemblance to them sets the scene for what would become an entire trilogy.

Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down:

Our deer boy lives a not-so-peaceful life in a land of people without antlers, always feeling like he’s on the wrong team. But when he meets the kindest girl, he will do anything to fight for their love. A homage to screwball comedies, this is a cinema classic and a definite must see for everyone!

Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner:

The best kept secret in the entire suburb, a relationship between a failing writer and his muse grows increasingly destructive to everyone around them and themselves. Not that they would have it any other way if it means they’ll go down together. In what’s been called a Gothic Suburbs Romance, 88 LAX Studios yet again manages to completely throw a premise in its head in their own unique way.

I’ve Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song):

An untold confession summons something into the life of our protagonist, quickly spiraling down into more than just his love life mattering to this thing that’s feeding off him. Every small detail takes its toll in this experimental psychological horror, but not all is hopeless, sometimes it takes being hopelessly hopeful. Don’t miss its sister movie “Atavan Halen” for a completely different side of this story.

7 Minutes In Heaven (Atavan Halen):

A dance and an untold confession, and a creature stalking our protagonist and his crush through blinds. Does it even matter when his life feels like it’s crashing down? Would his crush make him go home alone or are they looking out for him, in their own way? Don’t miss its sister movie “Summer Song” for a completely different side of this story.

Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year:

The story of four guys who accidentally cast a spell to catapult them to fame and fell in over their heads into success, completely lost in how they seemingly magically manipulated their way into this position, scared the spell will end any second now. Are we growing up or just going down? An introspective entry into 88 LAX Studios’ catalogue, knowing they’ve grown since their last era and not how long this will last. But trusting their audience to trust them with this.

Champagne For My Real Friends Real Pain For My Sham Friends:

The temptation of Ms. Backless Black Dress, an escape so long as you sit pretty warming her bed and let her go out and have her fun, she can give you anything you want. Would you betray your friends for her, or would you stick to the scars and stories, not the fame?

I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

A boy carved out of stone comes to life when a relationship turned sour turns into a murder of passion (or is it?), believing himself alone, and barraged with accusations of being vicious and having a heart of stone, our protagonist sets out to find out the truth, if only for himself.

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me

“Case number 183A. We first see the unravelling. I watched him... change. I’ve been able to keep him at peace with the blend I’ve created but, even that seems to be failing. He spends every waking hour plotting revenge against those who turned him, those who walk in the shadowed places forgotten by the sun. He hates all of them, but they live in fear of him...” In a Chicago dominated by rival vampire gangs, one fledgling sets out on a quest for revenge aided by his closest friends. This thrilling vampire story about corruption, at its core is about being unable to escape who you are even if you know how to make all the moves just right.

Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows):

Our two protagonists fall into a codependent doomed relationship from what seemed an inescapable fate of true love, in an experimental dual POV that really lets you live both of their hurts. A side project of one of the members of production filmed practically in secret, this special edition comes with the bonus feature of the short story our protagonist was writing in the movie.

XO:

A frantic night out culminates in a dingy hotel, in a romance marred by secretiveness, looking through keyholes, in guilt stored in a bible.

Snitches And Talkers Get Stitches And Walkers:

A later addition to this era, 88 LAX Studios delivers a brilliant comedy horror that seems to give their characters power back as these protagonists find themselves fighting back and accidentally becoming the monsters.

The Music Or The Misery:

88 LAX Studios is here to prove there is such thing as an anti-romance movie, our protagonists will go down in music history no matter what they need to do or sacrifice for it, and their romance? A grammatical mistake at best.

put your ear to the speaker and choose love or sympathy 📼

fob vhs series

[linipik]

Hunk with Samoan-style tattoos, they feel very at home in him ☀️

[umamaki]

WHERE THEY LIKE TO KISS YOU ! all l&ds li x reader 

NOTE ok i did get side tracked so not all the points are about kissing.. enjoy my silly headcanons then. wc 1.2k

minors do not interact 18+ 

SYLUS

he loves kissing your forehead!! and the top of your head!! 

he is sooooo cheesy lover boy in that way. likes the simple things and small gestures. 

for him, kissing you is as natural and normal as holding your hand. he doesn’t do it out of lust, but to show you that he loves you and that he’s close to you. 

also kinda possessiveeeee of himmm

bc of the height difference between you two, it’s easy for him to plop a smooch right on top of your head.

whenever you greet and say goodbye to one another he always hugs you and kisses the top of your head!!

sometimes it’ll be a quick kiss and other times he’ll linger there, pressing his lips to your head and inhaling your scent.

he does it so often that now you instinctually tilt your head up when you’re around him so he can kiss your forehead. He does it every time. Neither of you realize that you are following that same pattern, it just happens and you let it. 

i think he would be more reserved with kissing in public, his style of pda would be more touchy and possessive but using his hands if that makes sense. he’ll give you a brief peck on your forehead if other people are around. 

but if you’re at home together then he’s showering your head and face with kisses. just because. 

big forehead kisser when you’re laying on top of him in bed. he can’t help it!

after resolving an argument the first thing he does is kiss your forehead to remind you that he’ll never be angry at you. 

during sex he kisses your forehead after he’s fully inserted himself inside you. his way of comforting you as well as praising you. you’ve also come to expect this happening each time. 

when he finishes emptying his load in you he’ll kiss your forehead one last time before pulling out.

RAFAYEL

completely obsessed with your hands.

we know from his kindled memories that he likes kissing your wrist n such.

loves when you spray perfume onto your wrists. he likes feeling your pulse beneath his lips and the heat that radiates from them.

he likes holding your wrist in his hand and seeing how big his hands is compared to it <3.

kisses all around your hands. he kisses the inside of your palm, the back of your hand, the pads of your fingers. 

he’ll give you a bow and kiss the tips of your fingers whenever he’s feeling goofy. he’ll also slip in a “princess” as he does so. 

he kisses your left ring finger long before he proposes to you. just very in love with the idea of one day wearing matching wedding bands together. 

intertwines your fingers with his and kisses the back of your hand!

when you’re near each other—cuddling or just sitting next to one another doing your separate tasks—he likes holding your fingers to his lips. it helps him focus and the feeling comforts him. 

such a sucker for blowing kisses to one another. whether you’re across the room or right next to him.

when he’s flustering you and knows that it’s riling you up, he will take your wrist and tease you for your quickening pulse. kisses your wrist after because he never truly means the teasing.

he would also leave love bites on your wrist. just a thought. sometimes he bites hard enough to leave a temporary mark. 

all up in your wrist during sex, the feel and look of them arouses him so much. think the your fragrance memory. 

you’ll be writhing and overstimulated underneath him but he doesn’t care, continuing whatever pace he’s plunging into you at and holding your wrist to his face. 

XAVIER

also common knowledge but he likes to kiss your legs but really as long as it’s anywhere near your lower region. 

after a particularly rough battle with wanderers, he will kiss you where you’re hurt on your legs before bandaging them up. it’s a small gesture but you truly believe it does help with the pain. 

he likes being able to kiss your knees and the inside of your thighs when you’re sprawled below him with your legs spread.

will leave so many hickies on your thighs. 

he is such an eater but when he is going down on you, sometimes he will get distracted and go up to kiss other parts of your leg, leaving you whining from loss of contact and wanting more stimulation. 

ok hot take—he likes to kiss your ankles. not in a foot fetish way. unless you’re into that. but i think that he sees your ankles as just another part of you and likes to kiss them, esp during sex. he likes when you wear anklets because he can watch them dangle off your ankle when he is thrusting inside you.

and when he has you in a mating press. loves kissing your legs when you are like this.

similarly, he will almost always rest your legs on his shoulders when you have sex, so all he has to do is turn his head to the side to give them a kiss while he is fucking you. 

ZAYNE

ok zayne likes kissing your shoulders. it serves as a reminder of his presence. 

he does it when he passes by behind you, if you’re cooking in the kitchen he comes behind you and kisses your shoulder. if you’re sitting watching tv on the couch he’ll lean over and kiss you there too. he rests his chin on your shoulder and stays there for a while.

during long or boring social events he’ll show you that he’s tired when he press his face into the crook of your neck.

when he’s fucking you in doggy style, he bends down from behind you—his chest suffocating your back—to kiss your shoulders. will whisper things into your ear as he does so. 

similarly to sylus, zayne also likes to kiss the top of your head and his height is actually perfect for it. 

CALEB

three places: neck, jaw, collarbone.

kissing, biting, sucking, he does it all. 

kisses this area like a man starved.

he likes marking his territory there where there’s a risk of other people seeing. you’ll complain about having to cover them up with makeup or clothes but he shamelessly likes it. he wants you to show them off, show everyone that you are his. 

it turns him on when you wear a low cut shirt or any sort of neck jewelry. even better if it’s his necklace. you’ll have to pry him off your neck. 

kissing your jaw is heaven to him because his ears are right next to your lips, likes hearing you moan and whine up close. 

looks up at your face when he kisses those places. likes seeing what he does to you as he is doing it.

[andersunmenschlich]

Reminds me of a miscommunication last week at work.

I do overnight stocking in a local grocery. I'd just wheeled a precariously stacked U-boat (this thing, not a military craft) into a far aisle, and looked back to see a much younger coworker nearly lose a bunch of stuff off another U-boat.

There was a shopping cart in his way: he'd tried to swerve around it and a section of the stack on his boat had begun to topple.

As I came up, he rebalanced everything—good as it ever was, which wasn't very. I pulled the cart out of his way, but he didn't move. "We'd better take some of this stuff of the top before I move it," he said.

He was directly in front of the aisle that stuff went into, so I started pulling product off the top of the cart and moving it into the aisle.

The kid (who still wasn't helping) shouted at me.

"No!" he said, as though I were deliberately doing a thing different from what he'd specifically asked for. "Put it in the cart!"

I raised an eyebrow.

He looked slightly embarrassed, but still seemed to be wondering why I would move product into the aisle instead of into the aisle-occluding cart. I didn't have time to untangle the situation—the delivery truck had been late, and we had only a short while to get everything on shelves before the store opened—but the puzzle keeps coming back to me.

I am autistic. Perhaps he "said" where he wanted his boxes with his eyebrows or something. All I know is that he certainly didn't say it with his words.

Me and my boyfriend grew up with very different styles of communication. I learned early that if someone asks you a question, you should quickly assess what the asker actually wants to know, and answer with that information, so you won't bore them with stuff they don't care about or annoy them by telling them things that they'd already know. And the problem with the way you were raised is that you always kind of assume that everyone looks and thinks about things the same way you do.

As mentioned earlier, my boyfriend and his family are not like that. He does not start to troubleshoot for the most likely "real" question behind the general one being asked. The first assumption is what goes, and if those tracks don't lead anywhere, that's too bad because there's no such thing as the second most likely option. I've had to learn how to ask more specific and less open-ended questions, because he isn't accustomed to the kind of most-logical-option leaps as I've grown up with.

His father is not autistic, but he does work in IT. I frequently need to remind myself that he does not hate me. If I ask him a question that can be interpreted in two different ways, it's best to assume he didn't pick up on the one I meant. So if I ask a question but get a different answer than I expected, his thought process is "you asked me a question, therefore I answer this question", and not "this question can be interpreted two different ways, one of which is practical for the time being and a sensible thing to ask in this situation, and the other one is a fucking stupid question. I will answer the stupid question because I've concluded that you are fucking stupid."

[prlssprfctn]

On Bruce's birthday, Jason gifts him a self-made intellectual game in a "resolve this case" style that contains a secret prize. And Bruce? Bruce loves it. He always likes resolving mysteries (you have no idea how many times he reread Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christi) and it is finally so refreshing to work on something... fun and not threatening others' lives! And there will be another prize as a reward? That's great! Brilliant, even.

The problem? Bruce absolutely overthinks the whole thing and instead of finding an obvious answer, he starts plotting insane theories and spiralling in the rabbit hole.

Jason, slightly anxious but hopeful: So, had you resolved it? Did you find what was the victim's last words? Bruce, running on 55 cups of coffee, with a mischievous glint in his eyes: Oh, Jaylad, don't even start. I am thinking between the theory regarding Russian spies and involvement of Epstein. Jason, double-checking his father's state, with smile switching on growl: What.

Bruce is so entertained and sucked into the drama of the fake case that he doesn't even realise that Jason is awfully close to throwing the whole tantrum. Because he didn't just put all his heart into this stupid surprise answer for Bruce to went in a complete opposite direction???

Dick, amused: He is so distracted that he refused going patrolling today and sent us. I can't. This is hilarious. Jason, kicking rocks in frustration: I might as well kill Joker while he is at it. He probably won't even notice. Damian: So, Todd, what is the secret surprise that you are so... hysterical? Jason: Nothing! It is nothing! I don't care! Tim, who looked at the case once and figured the answer out instantly: Yeah, buddy, that's rough.

Jason, a one week after, sitting on the tea ceremony with Alfred: Let me guess, old man is still hadn't figured out the mystery behind the case? Alfred: I am afraid he went... slightly aboard with the capacity of his imagination, master Jason. Now, if you allow me to ask... What was the surprise hidden in the victim's last words? Jason, sniffling: It was supposed to be "I love you, Dad. Can I return home?" Alfred: Alfred: You want to say that I could have my grandson back home a week ago, and we could already arrange and decorate you a new room, and have you over on every dinner, if your father wasn't this... complicated? Jason: Uh, I guess? Jason: Also, why did you just call him my father and not master Bruce... Alfred, standing up to take a riffle: Right now he is not my master. Just your father. Jason: Uh, Alfie????

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

little comforts with the lads li’s

(a self-indulgent imagining of them with a neurodivergent MC)

✨ xavier & overstimulation

(not the sex kind, sorry. but probably that too) Xavier completely understands when you get overwhelmed by existing. he gets the same feeling sometimes. you develop a code for it eventually, a combination of eye contact and eyebrow-raising that signals to the other person that you need out, whether from a Hunter’s Association party or a grocery store with way too many people. back at home, you’ve created a haven together- eye masks and soft blankets for him, headphones and fidgets for you, whatever makes you feel peaceful and calmed. the ceiling lamp is absolutely not allowed- Xavier drapes the walls with soft spheres of light or swirls a firefly-glow of sparks along the bed in a warm canopy.

🎨 rafayel & hyperfixations/jumping hobbies

you might as well consider collecting hobbies a hobby in itself. crochet needles and yarn, jigsaw puzzles, a wood burning setup, a console and video games- whatever brings you joy, Rafayel is enthusiastically behind it. he doesn’t judge you for wanting to learn a new art style out of the blue- he’ll sign up for a pottery class with you and buy you pounds of clay. he loves your passion and enthusiasm and matches it with his own. he loves being creative with you, in whatever form it happens to take that day. plus, with the amount he spends on paint and canvas, he’s not about to judge you for getting boxes of new supplies for something. he’s hyping you up every time! even if it isn’t an interest he shares, he’s happy you’re happy.

🩺 zayne & health anxiety/ocd

no matter how many times you ask for it, Zayne is happy to give you reassurance. yes, that chicken was cooked all the way. you have a weird flutter in your chest? of course he'll listen to your heart. he listens to every symptom, every worry with unfailing patience. after all, he wants to be your protector, your safest place- this is just one way to be that for you. he never makes you feel irrational for your fears, just steadily helps you face them each and every time. he doesn't judge your compulsions, but he offers his expertise whenever you ask- he lets you take your temperature ten times a day but also explains the normal range and when to actually worry.

💭 sylus & overthinking

okay hear me out, this goes both ways: he helps ground you when you’re overthinking negatively but also supports you when you’re being enthusiastic about literally anything. he’s all in- if you have a favorite tv show he’s watching every episode and reading every analysis of it so you can discuss. he’s fully invested in your office drama, your gossip, your made-up stories about the bird family that lives outside your apartment window. but he also soothes you when you spiral into worry or fear. he happily goes through what-if scenarios with you, most of them ending in him spectacularly defeating anything that could ever threaten you. he makes it clear over and over again that you’re completely safe with him, physically and emotionally.

❤️‍🩹 caleb & insecurity

his life mission to make you feel adored. he makes a point of worshipping every part of you, especially anything you consider a "flaw". nothing is too much or too little- you're perfect exactly as you are. if he overhears you complaining about your thick thighs on a call with Tara, he's going to be buried in them later that night, pressing kisses to every inch. he loves working out and training with you. if you want to get healthier he's gladly cooking fresh ingredients into nutritious meals and helping you build up a fun fitness routine- but if there's even a hint of it being because you don't like the way you look in the mirror? he's going to benchpress twice your body weight in front of you just to prove he can. or better yet, he flings you over his shoulder easily and brings you to the bedroom to "work on your confidence".

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is the Tibetan Monk

So! When Bruce was travelling the world, finding masters to teach him how to fight and investigate, he came across a strange building in Tibet.

He had followed rumors of an ancient Monk who lived atop a mountain just on the edge of a Village, who had learned how to conquer Death itself, and stole its secrets for himself. Hoping to find a new Teacher, Bruce climbed the mountain and found the home of that Monk.

What he found was strange though...

The building seemed much more modern than he had been expecting, built with metal and drywall rather than ancient bricks or stones as he had assumed. There was also a strange machine on the top of the building, and if he didn't know any better he would have said it almost looked like a spaceship.

Hesitantly, he knocked on the wooden door and waited.

The man who answered looked nothing like he had expected, but so far nothing had met his expectations so he wasn't really surprised at that point. He looked relatively young, in his late 20's or early 30's, and was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. He had short black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin that didn't exactly match the tone of the other people living in the area. In fact he looked as if he could have been an American, rather than Tibetan.

Bruce introduced himself, explained why he was there, and managed to convince the Monk that he deserved his training.

It was unorthodox, certainly very different from the training he had recieved in the League of Assasins, but the Monk said that he was well suited for this style of training.

Under the monk he learned a variety of techniques. The ability to shield his mind from Telepaths, how to Astral Project, how to completely hide his presence from others, even from those with enhanced senses, and so much more.

By the time he was finished training with the Monk, he was confident that he could finally achieve his goal of saving Gotham from itself. He bid the monk farewell, and returned to his home ready to begin the legend of the Batman.

Meanwhile Danny had just sent his most recent student off after a few months of training.

He had to do this every once in a while. There were hundreds of Liminal and Ecto-Contaminated people out there in the world who didn't know how to manage their abilities. They didn't know how to innately seperate from their physical bodies so they could more easily feed on natural Ectoplasm, or how to shield their minds from the volatile stray emotions of the people around them thay may influence their thoughts.

It was dangerous for people with that level of Ecto-Contamination to live without knowing how to keep themselves healthy. So every once in a while, Danny would find a way to contact them and to teach them all they needed to know to stay healthy.

The "Centuries Old Monk" routine was an old favorite of his for this purpose. He would intentionally spread rumors where he knew they would hear, add in some incentive like "conquering death" to make sure they would follow those rumors, and than meet them and take them under his wing.

A few of his other favorite routines were the "Circus Act who knows more than he should", "Mechanic with great advice", and sometimes even just "Life Coach" for the more conventional cases.

And if he heard Bruce's story and decided to teach him how to use a few extra useful Ghostly Abilities, like hiding your presence or merging with Shadows, then who could really judge him? The kid had taken up a huge burden, he needed all the help he could get.

Besides, its not the first time he's ever done that.

...

Years later, Bruce met Dick and found out that he also knows how to Astral Project and Guard his Mind. He couldn't merge with the shadows or hide his presence nearly as well, but he could apparently slow how fast he fell and bend in ways even bruce couldn't.

Apparently he was taught how to do so from an old member of Haley's circus, who told him that they were meditation techniques to get "in the zone" for his trapeze acts.

Then he met Jason, who could also Astral Project and Guard his mind, and he could also heal faster than normal people and read other people's emotions. He learned from a Mechanic who used to live on his street, who told him it was just some street skills that would let him avoid the people who would hurt him or give him trouble.

Then Tim came in, also with Astral Projection and a Telepath-Proof mind, and he could apparently last for weeks on end with no food or even water, and could hide his presence from even Batman. He was taught by a butler his parents had briefly hired while away from home, though Tim's parents didn't know what he was talking about when he brought it up to them later. He was told it was just a way of "keeping his spirits up" when he was alone.

Stephanie had also been taught by an old Mechanic on her street. Same as all the other she could leave her body behind and guard her mind, but she could also read emotions and convince people to do what she said. The mechanic never gave a reason for why he was teaching her, but did say that it would help her gauge the people in her life easier. He left barely a week before Steph realized her dad was the Cluemaster.

Damien was, suprisingly, trained by the same Master that Bruce had been taught by. Talia had sent him up the mounting saying that his Father had learned from the man on the mountain, and he would as well. He was taught the same as all the others, though instead of merging with Shadows like his Father he was taught how to converse with Animals.

Cass had been taught by a man while she was running from her Father. He never said why, only that it would help her live a better life. She had the "normal" abilities of Astral Projection and Guarding her Mind, but she could also Merge with Shadows and Perfectly Read other people's emotions beyond their body language.

Duke was taught by a man who had also taught other members of "We Are Robin" during the cataclysm. He said it would help them survive their attempts at heroism, though he gave Duke extra training for some reason. He had taught Duke even more than he had taught the other Bats, alongside the now typical Astral Projection and Guarding his Mind, Duke could also talk to the Dead, See into the Past, and even Phase through Walls. With enough effort he could even Fly.

A few of his abilities were attributed to his Metahuman Powers, but he claimed that they were never that powerful before that man came along.

He also said that the man "Glowed" in a strange way. He was the only one who could see it among the members of We Are Robin, even the others he had taught.

Bruce had long since decided he needed to pay his old Master a visit.

[canonicallyginger]

The way ISAT starts at the end of the story is so effective for the themes of loneliness and isolation. At the point in the story the party is at, they're as close to each other as they've ever been. It's the last two days they're going to spend as a team. But they're also all so closed off to each other. Mirabelle is quietly hating herself for not wanting to change as much as she thinks she's supposed to. Odile still hasn't found what she's looking for, and she's probably beginning to think she never will. Bonnie refuses to look at Siffrin's face long enough to think about what happened to his eye. Isabeau can't work up the courage to open up to Siffrin about how he feels. And Siffrin doesn't even know anything about his own past! They deflect with jokes even in their own thoughts!

Yes, they're already a family by the start of ISAT. But the only one who actually expresses all of their emotions is a child who's still trying to navigate what exactly they're feeling. The only one who constantly pays attention to how his friends are feeling is secretly too shy to express how much he cares to the one person who needs it the most. The real hero of the story doesn't think she's grown as a person at all. The smartest person there is also really bad at recognizing when something she's said offends one of the people she's come to care for. And then there's Siffrin, who doesn't actually believe that any of his friends will remember him, and maybe he's afraid he won't remember them either. They think Isabeau is just nice. Baseline behavior for anyone he talks to. They understand Odile better than anyone in the party, but they misunderstand her style of banter just feels like she's being brutally honest. He cares deeply about Mirabelle and can't express it as anything but teasingly making sure she's alright. And he thinks Bonnie hates him because losing an eye to save a kid was something he sees as completely worth it, and he doesn't see how much that terrifies them.

If there wasn't a time loop, they'd all go their separate ways at the end and they'd all feel like shit about it. Bonnie would never forgive themself for being the reason Siffrin lost an eye. Isabeau probably wouldn't go home to Jouvante because none of his fellow defenders were willing to risk their lives to defend Vaugarde. Mirabelle would go on a pilgrimage and fail to recognize how much she's changed once again. Odile would return to Ka Bue, still feeling like she doesn't fit in there. And Siffrin would be alone again, until one day, they wouldn't even remember the faces of the people they'd come to love.

[vrystalius]

Squid Game men as dads (+pregnancy HCs)

How they act during your pregnancy, shortly after birth and as a veteran dad!

Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Headcanons, scenarios as them as to-be-dads, new dads and veteran dads plus a bonus scenario at the end of each character!

Genre: Fluff, angst

Words in total: 7.1k (Every part is around 1.4k words long)

Note: No baby names or gender are mentioned so everything is up to your interpretation. Also, this took a lot of effort. I hope you enjoy this <3

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

( Words — 1.1k )

Your husband was extremely over-prepared for anything and everything during your pregnancy. He seemingly bought every single parenting book that exists on this planet and proceeded to inhale them in a matter of days before internally panicking about if he is capable of being a good dad anyway. You can tell how much everything was eating away at him, even before the child was born. Although he tried his best to never show it.

A way to channel his nervous and stressed energy into something good is by constantly hovering around you. Being near your pregnant glow gives him a peace of mind, resting his head on your stomach and listening to the baby’s heartbeat and feeling a light kick here and there, or having you in his arms while giving you a massage, his lips peppering featherlight kisses over your skin.

Gong Yoo always insisted on cooking for you, no matter the hour of day or night. He is kind of afraid you might consume something questionable again after watching you dip tuna kimbab into chocolate sauce, insisting it tastes really good and almost making him try a little too.

For you and your baby’s health, he fully banned you from the kitchen. No more experimenting with food for you.

˚✧₊⁎-

He was absolutely broken the first time he held your baby. It was so unbelievably small, so fragile, pure and innocent. The embodiment of love and the result of it. Gong Yoo had to bite his tongue and hold back his tears in order to not cry waterfalls onto your newborn because he knows once a single tear drops, his whole facade shatters.

Once the baby came home with you two, the once neat and organised, shared home was transformed into a more warm and homely environment, the floor now decorated with toys, onesies, clothes and small children’s books.

He always gets up in the middle of the night so you can rest, falling asleep in the rocking chair with the baby in arms. Your husband is also mostly the one that stays at home with the baby since his job only requires some recruitment of desperate people once a year, so most of his time can be dedicated to you and his family.

Gong Yoo is also that one dad most of the other moms swoon about when seeing him at playgrounds or in the park, pushing the stroller of the baby, or having his kid hang out in a sling tied to his chest while he went shopping, comparing two types of baby foods with another and showing both to the bean of happiness tied to his chest, cooing and asking which type of baby food is tastier.

Hanging out with the baby is probably the activity that takes 80% of his day and he is not complaining at all. Your husband’s head lays on the edge of the crib while watching the precious thing sleep, cradling them in his arms in the middle of the night, sitting with them in the playpen, completely matching their excitement and energy while playing with their toys, admiring how easily his kid can be entertained.

Although he looks charming and even more handsome out in public, he cares little about his appearance anymore. While he was obsessed with the way his suit looked and hair was styled, now, he considers himself satisfied when he finds a clean t-shirt. His hair gets a little messier and dark circles begin to form beneath his eyes.

˚✧₊⁎-

Even as a veteran dad, Gong Yoo fold together immediately when his kid try to win his favour by saying I love you or making puppy eyes at him. He’s not a pushover though, standing his ground and giving his kid a strict glare whenever they go to far that immediately silences them is not impossible, although he doesn’t like doing it.

He is always afraid of doing something wrong when it comes to parenting, overthinking every decision and everything he says, fearing he’s too strict, too loose, too much of a pushover, too disinterested and blah blah blah.

You had to stop his circling train of thought by soothing your husband by reminding him how he always shower up to every single school event, always sat through the homework and never raised his voice when his child didn’t understand something, instead explaining it in simpler terms without making them feel stupid for not getting it the first time, how he never shamed his child for doing wrong, never blamed them for being just a kid and always did the opposite than his own father did.

It might sound selfish, but becoming a father healed the hole left behind by his own. Oh how he wishes and prays that he does and did everything right. The only thing he wants is for you and his precious baby to be happy and safe, no matter what.

˚✧₊⁎ - (TW: Suicide)

“What’s the matter? Your mind starting to race?”

The recruiter sits across Gi-hum, gun handed over into his hand. The cold metal now feels almost overwhelming when touching his skin, as if screaming at him to turn it around and point it at the man sitting across him and shoot him, end the game here and there.

“That’s right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me… but, I’ll have you admit one last thing.”

Gi-hun’s voice wasn’t even shaking in fear, it was firm with determination.

“You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark and wag your tail for them.

You’re nothing more than their dog.”

The words emitted from the mam sitting across him begin to slice deeper and deeper into his mind, his heart and soul. It’s true what he says, Gong Yoo knows it himself. He is but a small chess piece, a dog, as Gi-hun says, that obeys every order and does what his master says.

What choice does he have anyway? It’s either that or risking his death and yours.

You. A flashing memory of your face from just this morning briefly plagues his mind, the view now feels so utterly distant and unreal.

A small, cocky smile spread on his face, pathetically trying to have his last laugh. He leaned back against the cushion and cocked the gun, pressing the barrel against the underside of his chin. Taking one last breath, his finger pressed against the trigger, not pulling it yet.

He knows you both will be okay. Maybe even better without him.

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

( Words — 1.5k )

To be very honest, the news of your pregnancy kinda hit him like a truck. It was somewhat accidental and Thanos maybe panicked quite a lot while pacing around his shitty apartment, scared to death about the idea of becoming a dad. Like, have you seen him?? He is supposed to become a dad?!

After loosing his mind and having multiple panic attacks, he pulled himself together and went to the dollar store to buy a onesie, a teddy bear and a bouquet of roses before heading over to your place and ringing the doorbell for multiple minutes until you finally open the door.

He actually sold his apartment and moved in with you, performed a gig every night for multiple weeks on end, even dealing his fair share of drugs in club pentagon. Your boyfriend would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, but having a stable income would be much nicer.

Other than that, your boyfriend took care of you the best he could. Whenever you crave something to eat, your boyfriend will stand inside a gas station at 2 am to buy you the specific type of chips you wanted. If there wasn’t enough money to afford a decent meal for the two of you, you’d get all the food. He promises to be fine and get his food elsewhere, don’t even worry about him.

He is incredibly fascinated by your changing body. Your breasts are bigger, softer and sensitive. Thanos will be poking them all day every day randomly, trying to see if they’ll leak despite you only being three months into the pregnancy. He’ll insist on taking a picture of your belly every day so he can document the process to show it off to his kid one day.

Also, he never smoked, vaped or used around you. Your boyfriend has been clean of drugs for the almost entirety of your relationship but still smoked, but for the health of you ans your baby, he tried his best to get clean on that as well but it proved to be much, much harder, so he instead settled on doing it on the balcony or outside.

One last thing, whenever he had a new ultrasound picture of his baby, he was showing it off to everybody he knows with the biggest grin on his face. Thanos was the proudest dad in the world before your baby was even born.

˚✧₊⁎-

Since your boyfriend was so used to staying up all night and performing, so he doesn’t really mind dragging himself out of bed to feed or cradle the baby in the crack of dawn. Although, doing that for multiple nights on end drains any person, so you two end up playing rock paper scissors after a while to decide who gets up.

Thanos is the type to grab his baby by the back of the onesie and lift it out of the crib, gently throwing it onto your bed for some family cuddles, grinning like an idiot at how his baby giggles in delight and kicks its legs, wanting to fly through the air again and again.

He performs for his kid too whenever he doesn’t know what else to do to make his baby stop crying. Your boyfriend would play with an imaginary DJ board with his hands, his waist swaying left and right as he sleepily raps some random lyrics together to make the crying baby in the crib finally fall asleep after being fed, cradled and having its diaper changed.

Sometimes, if all fails (even rapping), Thanos will climb into the crib in order to finally make the screamer fall asleep. His legs would dangle over the edge of the crib and angled in a weird position, his neck awkwardly leaning against the railing. Despite this clearly uncomfortable pose, he was deeply asleep and snoring alongside his baby sleeping on his chest. Of course, this scene immediately became your new phone wallpaper.

After having the baby for a while, Thanos’s fashion will completely shift from the indie/grungry/rave-whatever-esc he was wearing to whatever is clean and comfortable. He doesn’t care he’s wearing a spongebob shirt right now, he’s busy deciding if he wants to buy a CD of the Beauty and the Beast movie or treat you with some snacks and chocolate.

Your boyfriend also had some serious attachment issues. That man could not stand not being near his baby 24/7 or not being able to have it in sight. If you want to take it out to the park or something he’ll insist on coming with you or else he’ll be stuck bouncing his thigh up and down and switching between social media platforms to pass the time until you come home.

What was kind of fascinating to you was how little Thanos now needs to be entertained. Having his little sunshine on his lap, curiously biting onto his fingers or reaching out to his hair could keep him entertained for hours upon hours.

Sometimes you walk in on your boyfriend lying on his stomach, legs kicking in the air, making some grimaces at your kid and watching how it begins to giggle and laugh, trying to copy their dad’s expression as hard as they can. Although you have to say that your baby has their papa’s signature scowl.

˚✧₊⁎-

As a more experienced dad, Thanos gathered no experience at all. Despite his baby now being a toddler, it’s still like he has had that kid for two and a half days. Sure he knows what his kid likes and dislikes because it’s basically the same to him, both your manchild and child like colourful things and don’t like vegetables, but Thanos still has no idea how to raise a proper human.

Whenever you scold your child for something, your boyfriend just nods in approval. When the kid looks over to their papa for help, he’ll just point at you. “Listen to your mama, she’s smarter than both of us.”

Although he gets more excited every day at how he can do more with his kid now. He likes to fantasise and envision everything they could do together, like his precious sunshine’s first day in elementary school, teaching them how to ride a bike, first time bringing them to the club and show them off to everyone…

You’ll have to listen to your boyfriend fully plan out tomorrow and what he’ll go do with his kid while being cuddled up in your arms, your fingers brushing through his hair. Thanos’ll gesture around while vividly explaining everything in detail, how he wants to go buy some new toys and then maybe go to the park, grab some ice cream, then go choose out their bike to learn how to ride one on. It’ll be fun!

Although fantasising is fun, reality is often a little different. It’s difficult to afford all the things he dreams of thanks to your financial situation but despite everything, you, him and your child are happy.

He’ll make every minute, every hour and every day count, wanting to make as many good memories as possible before they grew too old and annoyed of their over-affectionate and hyper dad.

Also, your boyfriend is horrified of the teenager stage when thinking back to his own and how he first got caught up in the drug mess and whatever else he got himself into, but thankfully as of now, your child has yet to finish kindergarten so they are a couple of years ahead before that happens.

˚✧₊⁎- (TW: Death)

He was trying to stop the blood with everything he has, pressing his hands against the underside of his chin as the warm, metallic blood stickers through his fingers, staining the bathroom tiles below.

Choking on his own blood, Thanos slowly crawled into the corner of the bathroom, trying to escape from the chaos that erupted behind him. His face was scrunched together in pain as he rolled over onto his back.

The quiet sound of gurgling was completely drowned out by the sounds of fighting, yelling and punching as Thanos quietly gasped for air.

Fuck, this wasn’t how all of this was supposed to go. He should’ve just gotten the damn money and voted to leave, get that Nam-su or whatever to vote leaving too so he could go home with the guaranteed money instead of risking to play another stupid childhood game.

Now he is here, on a bathroom floor, drowning in his own blood because of a fucking fork.

His eyes were too heavy to be kept open, his warm blood on his hand weirdly enough made him suddenly feel so incredibly tired, like a large, warm blanket was just draped over him. He should close his eyes for a moment before he’ll continue to fight for his life.

Thanos can survive this, he knows that. How could he not? He has a kid back home, you. He promised to buy you a ring and propose once he had gathered enough money. Imagining you in a pretty white dress, standing by the altar, waiting on him with that pretty smile of yours.

He can’t miss his kid’s first day of elementary school, graduation, first day of middle school, first crush, first heartbreak. He can’t leave his kid alone in this world, they can barely walk. How will they get anywhere without him being there to carry them in his arms? He promised himself to be there for them with every step of the way they may take, with you in hand.

He just has to close his eyes for a second, then he’ll stop the bleeding and get up. Promise.

Dae-ho // Player 388

( Words — 1.5k )

Dae-ho was over the moon and back the moment he found out that you are pregnant. Pregnant, carrying his child! He always wanted a family of his own and you being able to grant him that wish made him fall in love with you all over again.

He’ll do everything for you during your pregnancy, just you rest and look pretty. Your boyfriend will transform into a complete malewife and cook, clean and completely pamper you. Not that he never did that before, he just did it even more now.

Whatever you wished for was provided; massage for your swollen feet? C’mere, put your legs on his lap. You want to combine the worst foods together and inhale that combo like a five star gourmet meal? Sure, he’ll go buy the ingredients, save him a plate!

Dae-ho adored cuddling with you even more during that time than before. He adored laying his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while his large palm gently brushed back and forth over your stomach.

Your boyfriend also takes his time every night to talk to the baby in your stomach. Feathery kisses would be placed all over your warm skin while he sleepily recalls things he did today, trying to get your baby to recognise that the man speaking to it was their dad.

He’ll talk about how he finished building the nursery and how much he looks forward to them seeing it, how you two went to the park today for a small walk, how he watched you ate seven hot dogs and proceeded to ask for his to eat as well.

You can’t help but grin how Dae-ho acts like the baby is already there, can listen and understand to what he is saying and react to it. Your fingers brush through his long hair while he slowly falls asleep with his head resting on your soft chest, his arms draped over your stomach.

˚✧₊⁎-

As a new dad, you can’t help but think about how much of a dilf your boyfriend had become.

His hair is messy and his face tired, yet he has that big grin of his always plastered all over. Dae-ho’s whole demeanour lights up even brighter with his baby in his arms, walking around your home shirtless with his muscles on full display for your shameless enjoyment.

Something extremely important to him is skin-to-skin contact, so you’ll have a half naked Dae-ho laying around on the couch with your baby curled up on his chest. He adores cuddling with you, so having a baby between you is a big bonus.

Even after your pregnancy, he was still in full on malewife mode, but now with a baby strapped to his chest. He cooks and includes his baby in the process so they can stay entertained, offering small tastes of the sauce he is working on or letting them have their own tiny cooking utensils to hold and inspect while he stirs the sauce.

His sisters also come by for a visit a lot so they can see the first offspring of the Kang family. They coo over your baby and congratulate both of you, but scold their brother sometimes for not caring for you well enough, especially after postpartum. Your reassurances that he does plenty fall on deaf ears most of the time.

They often times take your baby in so the both of you can have some alone time and rest. You two planned on taking a small vacation somewhere and treat yourselves to cocktails or something, but you and your boyfriend ended up sleeping and cuddling the full week and barely leaving the bed.

At first you and him enjoyed the peace and quiet, but after a day of naps, cuddles and breakfast at 4pm, Dae-ho suggested the idea of getting pregnant again.

He himself grew up in a big household and sure there were a share of fights over mundane things, but at the end of the day, he and his sisters love each other and have each other’s backs, no matter what. If one of them has problems, the others are there to help and support or bury the body of the problem.

He won’t forcefully push the idea of multiple kids on you though. If you say no he’ll totally understand it. He’s not the one carrying the baby for nine months and bleeds every month when he doesn’t, but Dae-ho will try and sweeten the idea of having a big family to you.

˚✧₊⁎- (multiple kids mentioned in this one)

As a veteran dad, Dae-ho always complies to his little monster(s) demands without complaint. He’s more of the fun dad that lets himself get used as a horse where his kids can hop on and be paraded around the home on his back. He could melt whenever his babies come up to him and ask him to join their roleplay, doesn’t matter if he’s going to be dressed up as a princess or supposed to play a big scary monster.

He’d be down to play all day every day, but once school work and homework comes into play, it’s going to be a little complicated. Dae-ho knows his ABCs and all but quadratic functions? Both him and his kid will be sitting by the table, crying of confusion and stress.

Despite being the fun-dad, he can be strict if he wants to. Sometimes his scoldings hit even harder than yours because of how tolerant he is. He never raises his voice or his hand, nor does he shame his child for doing something wrong. Screaming gets you nowhere, he learned that first hand, so instead he’ll try to understand their behaviour no matter how complicated or hard it may be.

Dae-ho is an incredibly proud dad and he will show it. Every award his kid wins, even if it’s a participation award, will be stored in the living room and somewhere you can admire it in its full glory. Every work of art that was ever gifted to him was kept in either large folders that sorted drawings based on the kid and year or on a shelf in the entrance area.

He also has plenty of pictures of his kids that he is ready to show off to everyone that had the misfortune of asking how they are. He’d spiral into a rant about their recent activities (no matter how mundane they seem, they are very special to him) and just how adorable they are, how they have your nose and eyes but his cheeks… the poor waiter just asked if they wanted a refill on his coke, not knowing about pandora box he opened.

˚✧₊⁎-

His body curled together as he pressed his back against the wall behind his bunk. Right now, Dae-ho wanted nothing more but the concrete to consume him, hide him away and muffle and the gunshots and yelling that was happening above him. His hands were tightly pressed up against his ears and his eyes tightly shut.

He hunched over to hide his face in his shaking knees, trying to hide from the gunfight, to hide form the shame of not being able to force his legs to walk and bring the much needed ammunition. Dae-ho knows he is useless.

“Dae-ho!!”

Player 120 calling out to him violently pulled him out of his trance, making him flinch. He stared up at her, his arms slowly moving off his ears, clearly shaking.

“Dae-ho, what happened?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

She leaned closer to him as he glanced away, lowering his head in shame. His lips pursed together and slowly began quivering as low whimpers escaped him. He felt her eyes literally piercing him.

“The magazines?”

Dae-ho stumbled over his own words, barely comprehending what she is trying to ask of him.

“I-I’m sorry— I-I…”

Hyun-ju glanced down to the hoodie near his cowering form and moved the cloth away to see what was inside. The ammunition magazines. Dae-ho flinched violently and lifted his arms to shield his face as she stood back upright with the ammunition in her arms, casting one last worried glance to the obviously scarred and horrified man before walking off.

The world around him went numb again as he kept repeating quiet “I’m sorry”s over and over, mixed together with broken whimpers.

No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t pull himself together and force his arms to grab a gun and fight for the games to end, but being staying here, with the other players, would be safer. Out there he either could be captured and eliminated, shot in the fight and bleed out, watch others die in front of him, kill other humans. He can’t do that. He can’t. No matter if he was in the marines or not.

Back when Dae-ho left for the games and back when he didn’t know that said games include death and murder, you two talked about it. You warned him about how it’s too good to be true. Playing childhood games in exchange for hundreds and up to millions of won?

You made him promise he’ll keep himself safe no matter what. You made him promise to always keep you and his family in mind, how he has people he needs to come back to.

It seems that his own body and soul internalised that pinkie promise you made him agree to. He has to keep himself safe and alive.

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

( Words — 1.4k )

Finding out that you’re pregnant almost made him have an aneurism. He already has a child that he himself doesn’t have a lot/barely and contact with before she moved away to America and even less now thanks to the distance and the want to keep her out of his mess. The mess that are the death games and the mess he now forced you to be apart of.

Gi-hun already felt incredibly guilty for falling in love with you. Anyone being associated with him is now in the line of fire and probably in constant danger thanks to him. Yet you stayed with him and even provided comfort.

He actually apologised for getting you pregnant while standing in a grocery isle to choose some jumpers and sheets for the future nursery crib. It was out of nowhere after staring at you being so excited over your baby, how you couldn’t decide between two pairs of itty bitty socks.

Gi-hun does warm up after a week or two. He catches himself smiling brightly at nothing after thinking back on how round you already look, what you’re doing right now. His eyes soften up every time he walks past the pastel nursery he build himself, fixing the sheets in the crib and folding the baby clothes together for the 100th time. His hands pick up one of the toys and his fingers brush over the surface, feeling the material beneath his skin.

Every time he does all this, it hits him all over again. You’re pregnant with his child.

Since he already had a daughter before and knows how much of a terrible father he was to her, Gi-hun feels a mix of guilt and excitement blooming in his stomach. He knows what he did wrong, both in the department of marriage with his late wife and parenting, so he doesn’t repeat his mistakes again.

The feeling of selfishness always swims around in his mind because it feels unfair to his daughter how he can provide all the things for his future baby he couldn’t for his daughter; proper attention, the financial means, maturity, a good father figure.

Gi-hun rested his head on your stomach, his eyes closed in relaxation as he listens to both your heartbeat and the heartbeat of the growing life inside of you, your hand idly resting on his cheek. Even if he cannot fully fight those feelings of guilt and shame, he swears to be a better father this time. In no means is he perfect, but he will try his best from the bottom of his heart.

˚✧₊⁎-

Right after birth, Gi-hun was incredibly attached to the baby. He was paranoid for a long period of time, things like sudden infant death and all kinds of worst case scenarios always in the back of his mind. He was faster than you in getting up whenever it cried, rushing over to the baby’s side immediately.

He’ll cradle the baby in his arms, silently walking around the home in the dark even long after his child fell asleep. Most of the time, calming his baby is more to calm his own mind of worries.

Sometimes, you two move the crib into your bedroom to stand beside your bed, just so he can feel more secure and less paranoia. It soothes Gi-hun’s mind to have his baby right there in arms reach. His arm drapes over to the crib, his hand weakly holding onto the railing even in his sleep.

But beside his paranoia, Gi-hun is always ecstatic when around his baby. There is always a carefree and soft smile on his face whenever his baby innocently chews on his finger, his eyes intently watching the adorable bean coo and kick around in its crib.

You gifted him a small heart locker with a picture inside. Unoriginal, sure, but something he cherishes with a his being nonetheless. The picture had you and him together, hand in hand, on one side of the locker, a photo that is actually fairly old. It was of one of your first dates and he had a soft smile on his face. It looked hesitant and unsure, but it was one of the first smiles he cracked in a long time.

On the other side of the locker was a picture of your baby in the crib, looking up into the camera with big and curious eyes while chewing on a rubber toy. You dressed the baby in an adorable brown bear onesie, overloading his senses even more.

Gi-hun wears the necklace almost every day and keeps it secure under his shirt, fishing it out and opening the locker to look at the two pictures to remind himself why he is still fighting to stop the games. His fingers brush gently over your face and his baby’s cheeks, a small smile spreading on his face.

˚✧₊⁎-

Since Gi-hun was already had a daughter before, he already kind of knows how to raise a child, although he sometimes struggles with spoiling his child too much.

Thanks to both the guilt he feels for failing to be a proper dad to his daughter and now having such an insane amount of money he doesn’t know what to do with, Gi-hun showers both you and your child with everything you two could possibly want.

So sometimes you have to remind him that just because your kid really really wants that expensive lego set doesn’t mean he should buy it for them, perhaps when it’s their birthday or Christmas or they have done a very good job at something.

You have to teach the oblivious man how to properly manage his money and maybe not buy everything in sight for your kid. Gi-hun will listen to you with those big, sad puppy eyes he always has whenever you scold him about something.

Also, he adores playing with his kid. His favourite thing to do is to have them stand on his feet and put their hand into his, walking “together” through the apartment while loud, childish giggles fill the rooms. He also loves carrying and walking his kid everywhere, despite knowing very well they acted like they were extremely tired just so daddy can carry them for a while.

How can he possibly deny his precious baby?

˚✧₊⁎-

“Here, take this.”

He takes out an ammunition magazine and offers it to Young-il standing in front of him, who was watching him holding the ammo out to him. “You’re going to need it.”

Young-il’s eyes glosses over his hand and up to his face slowly as if not believing his offer. “Are you sure?” Gi-hun nods reassuringly, holding it a little closer to him.

“Dae-ho will be back with more.”

That was the reassurance he seemingly needed before reaching out and finally taking the ammo out of his hand, nodding slightly. “Let’s do this, then. We have to end everything now.” Young-il mumbled, briefly gesturing towards the necklace around his neck as if knowing what was hidden beneath his shirt. “We have to bring everyone back to their families.”

Gi-hun froze for a moment as his head moves back to his ally. Jung-bae glanced over to the two. Seemingly taken back, the man quickly elaborates. “I mean, you have a wife and child, right? I overheard you two talk about it.”

“Doesn’t matter right now, go!!” Jung-bae waved his hand as if to shoo him away. Gi-hun just nodded and spared him one last glance before turning back to the pink guards standing atop of the stairs. Yet he can’t shake the feeling of dread creep up on his neck.

His hand briefly brushed over the locker beneath his cloth, tracing the heart shape with his fingers. Did he ever talk about you or his child back home? Even about his older daughter living abroad? Does Jung-bae even know about his family? Maybe it’s a lucky guess of Young-il.

His brows furrowed together in thought before Jung-bae ripped him out of his thoughts. “Gi-hun? Are you alright?”

Gi-hun flinched slightly before quickly nodding. “Yeah. Yes. Sorry.”

Without wasting another second or a breath, he pulled the gun closer to his chest and aimed it around the corner and at one of the guards and continuing the shootout. Although Young-il’s last remark still was engraved in his mind.

In-ho // Young-il // The Frontman // Player 001

( Words — 1.6k )

The news of you being pregnant actually horrified him to the core for a moment. The last time his love of his life was pregnant she died in the hospital while he fought for his life in the death games. It is safe to say that In-ho has bad memories associated with pregnancy.

Those bad memories fuel his protective streak even further as you cannot find a moment to yourself. Your husband will be there, hovering near you since the first day you know of your pregnancy. He orders you to take a seat in the leather chair of his study with that Frontman-voice of his while he provides food, drinks and entertainment for you.

In-ho also employed a doctor on the island that specifically is there to give you full medical check-ups every week. He cannot risk loosing you or the baby this time, you have his heart tightly trapped within your grasp and he does not mind at all. His heart is yours and yours is his.

Your husband tries to pull himself away from work and planning this year’s games but the VIPs are quite demanding and he cannot afford to disappoint them. Although he is a lot more home than before which you of course enjoy.

Your husband is actually a very good cook and will cook for you as much as he can, but also doesn’t mind when you give into your insane cravings. He will question your choices though, maybe even check your forehead temperature to see if you’re sick or something when In-ho catches you devour a whole plate of cut fruits you generously salted.

In-ho always was more hesitant when it came to showing affection, fearing he might come off as weak or soft and maybe seem unattractive to you. Even if you think quite literally the opposite.

With you becoming pregnant he became more and more sweet with you. His kisses will be more frequent and linger longer on your skin, his hands will always find their way to connect with you and let them run over your waist, stomach, back and shoulders.

Your affection breaks this man more and more as well, your hand cupping his cheek making him melt and nuzzle into your palm like a touch deprived cat, your kiss warming up his soul over and over.

In-ho knew this before but he never fully realised how hard he fell in love with you.

˚✧₊⁎-

You’ve never seen him cry before so the sight of your husband completely breaking down and showering you in praises and kisses right after birth. In-ho pulled you closer against his chest as his tears flowed down to you, his lips whispering broken “I love you”s, “You did such a great job” and “Thank you”s.

You gave birth in a hospital in Soel and not on the island. It was the decision of both of you to spend the first few days after the birth in the old apartment he still owned in the capital city, away from all the death for just a while.

Those days were the most peaceful and pleasant days In-ho had in a while. It was almost like a dream come true, the dirtiest fantasy he ever allowed to imagine: a regular family life with a wife and child. To go to the grocery store to pick up some carrot baby food and the bar of chocolate you have been craving, to have his biggest decision be if the newborn will wear the soft pink bunny jumpsuit or the cozy grey cat onesie. To be a simple man and his only duties to be a husband and a father.

Although after two weeks of rest and peace, the games pulled him and with that both you and the newborn back to the island.

Your husband did set his will through with the VIPs though and worked himself more free time he could spend with you and the baby.

Though he sometimes takes his child with to work by strapping them onto his chest with a baby sling. He knows that the rather violent environment is not the best place to have a baby, so In-ho implemented changes in the control center to make the place a little more child friendly.

The word “eliminated” was a little too gruesome in his opinion, so he made the woman who spoke the first voiceover change it to “lost” or “lost the game”. The blood on the screens will be censored with the colour black and most of the sound will be muted as to not expose his baby to the screams and pleads of mercy and scar that young mind.

It’s quite the bizarre sight, the Frontman standing in the center of the control room, inspecting the new portraits taken of the players participating the games while a giggling baby was attached to his chest, curiously chewing on their own fingers, unbothered by everything around them.

˚✧₊⁎-

As a more experienced dad, In-ho, much to his dismay, found out that his now a little older kid is very attached to the Frontman mask. Sure, they still smile when they see their papa, but they do seem happier and more excited when he wears his mask and talks to them with the voice changer.

In-ho’s parenting style is more strict than lenient, though he does provide a lot of love, encouragement and praise for his child, even his ways to express those things are more subtle. His hands give out light pats on the head while a smile spreads on his face, giving them an acknowledging nod for their work.

Whenever his kid needs to be lectured, his voice is stern but not loud. Raising a hand does nothing but ensue pain, fear and hate, so he never did that anyway. Thanks to his role as the Frontman, he knows how to be and sound incredibly intimidating and menacing.

It’s not entirely his fault, but In-ho is not home with you and the kid most of the time. He is always incredibly busy, especially during that time of the year. He tries his best to compensate for that lost time by pulling himself away from the games and spend time with his family, but it proves to be harder than it sounds.

He has a lot of pictures of you two on his desk and study. Whenever stress gets to him in a moment of weakness, In-ho will take his time to go through every single one. All of the masterful drawings made by your child are also on full display for his enjoyment and you know he’s treating it like a modern art gallery; with uttermost care and interest.

˚✧₊⁎-

“Look closely at the consequences of playing your game.”

In-ho’s voice was deeper, distorted when speaking through the mask. His eyes pierced through the man kneeling in front of him. Gi-hun.

Gi-hun stared back up at him with so much hate, so much despise. It’s almost humorous to In-ho how the same man that seeped of both hate and determination insisted on giving him one of his essential ammunition magazines. Almost.

The Frontman moved and aimed his caliber at the kneeling man beside him, Jung-bae. He slowly moved his head over to his best friend in horror. “Gi-hun.”

Those were the last words he mumbled before In-ho pulled the trigger, executing the kneeling man swiftly.

As Gi-hun screamed and cried for Jung-bae, trying to reach out to his best friend as the pink soldiers pressed him firmly against the concrete floors below, the Frontman swiftly turned around and stepped away to the master control room, sliding his gun into the coat as he walked.

It was pitiful, he thinks. Not the display Gi-hun gave or how he naively trusted him as the played the persona of Young-il to the point of wanting to overthrow the games with him, but how he, In-ho, opened up to the man.

He talked freely about you and how you two met, fell in love and married, how excited and horrified he was when you got pregnant, how he cried for the first time in a very long time after you gave birth. Gi-hun laughed with him when he ranted a little bit about the adorable antics of his child and he comforted In-ho when he voiced how much he missed you and worried about you.

Most of it was planned to get closer to the man and build some sort of connection, to make Gi-hun think of him as a father and husband than a faceless player. It’s just that In-ho enjoyed talking to him so freely.

He doesn’t have friend, no connection to his brother, no people he can confide outside of you and he can’t really talk about his wife to you, can he?

It almost felt normal, like two men complaining about the small things in life like how dry the buns are they ate at breakfast, or compare their children to one another and pridefully gush about how his already knew how to speak both Korean and English at 1 year old and how Gi-hun’s daughter lives in America and goes to a prestige school.

Yes, he’ll miss those couple of days he spend with him. But duty calls. He has to move on now.

💠

Author’s note. Thank you so much for reading!

I wrote this over the course of around three days while recovering from a head concussion, so I apologise for any mistakes! This took a lot of effort but was incredibly fun to write!! This is probably one of my longest work yet but it’s totally worth the effort, I just hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[dollbrbie]

older boyfriend gojo pleaaaseeee 😩 i loved your toji one i need to be gojo’s controversially young gf too

olderbf!gojo who couldn’t care less whenever he gets side eyes or strange looks from people when they notice his younger, pretty girlfriend on his arm, a smug grin always plastered on his face.

olderbf!gojo who spoils you rotten, paying for anything your heart desires whether it be clothes, makeup, jewellery or expensive bags. anything you want, he’ll buy.

olderbf!gojo who goes allll out on birthdays and special occasions, surprising you with a luxury sports car for your birthday after mentioning it once that you thought that style of car was pretty, leaving you absolutely flabbergasted.

olderbf!gojo who never asks for anything in return, just your pretty smile and your usual self is enough for him.

olderbf!gojo who is always so delightfully surprised whenever you surprise him with dinner after he gets home from work or whenever you pop in to his office to give him his lunch.

olderbf!gojo who is always there for you despite of his usual bubbly and high energy personality, opening his arms with a comforting smile as he lets you relax in his arms and against his broad chest.

olderbf!gojo who is the most attentive man in bed, always watching the way your brows furrow and the way your lips part as you feel your pleasure build up in your stomach, smiling to himself as he coaxes you through your creeping orgasm.

olderbf!gojo who is an absolute munch, eating you out like a starved man whenever he gets the chance.

olderbf!gojo who prefers most when you sit on his face, suffocating him with your ass that he’s completely obsessed with as he licks and teases your throbbing pussy.

olderbf!gojo who gives you the sweetest aftercare, holding you close and mutters cheesy praises in your way that cause your cheeks to hurt before rushing to get you whatever you need in the moment.

olderbf!gojo who never really thinks about the age gap until people bring up how much controversially younger you are than him, just shrugging them off usually.

olderbf!gojo who sometimes second guesses, thinking that maybe he is too old for you after receiving side eyes and back handed comments from your parents when you urged him to meet them.

olderbf!gojo who looks up at your frowning face as you promise him that he’ll never be too old, that you love him no matter what anyone thinks, including your parents.

olderbf!gojo who feels a little better at your reassurance, smiling up at you as he pulls you into his arms, reminding you how much he genuinely loves you.

olderbf!gojo who is really just the sweetest boyfriend, always thinking of you first and prioritising your needs.

olderbf!gojo who doesnt care if you’re labelled his controversially young girlfriend, because he already knows it’s true but he also knows that you’re the happiest you are when you’re with him.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[cxrrodedcoffin]

☆ 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧 ☆

Vigilante Older!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader (Part 1/3)

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡!! ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა ᯓᡣ𐭩

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝♡

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!rafe, older!rafe, age gap (rafe’s mid 40’s, reader is mid 20’s), established relationship, murder, mentions of past abuse, mentions of missing persons & kidnapping, handcuffs, condescension, praise, reader isn’t a virgin but experiences a couple firsts, daddy kink, breast play, oral sex fem receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, doggy style, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (doll, baby, babydoll, princess, sugar), rafe’s a smartass with a heart of gold, he talks you through it

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k

Rafe Cameron was your neighbor. That’s all he was ever supposed to be, but three weeks ago when he broke down your front door after hearing your pained screams echoing down the secluded street, everything changed. He held no hesitation in beating your abusive boyfriend to a bloody pulp, and by the time you had regained awareness of your surroundings, Rafe was dragging you out of the house, leaving your boyfriend’s lifeless body to rot in the house you once called home.

You’d had your flirtations in the past, in fact, that’s what you and your boyfriend had been arguing about before he tried to kill you that night. He saw the way you looked at Rafe, knew you had a crush on him, and his brain made the jump that you must have been sleeping with him. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it back when you were single, he was classically handsome, but he was also twenty years your senior, and you surely would’ve been the talk of figure eight if the two of you had actually started seeing each other, so you’d resigned yourself of that idea a long time ago.

When Rafe took your hand and dragged you behind him out of that house you didn’t have any urge to try and run from him, it was like you knew he was doing what was best for the both of you. You followed behind him the entire time he spent scrambling to gather things around his house, packing up the most important parts of his private life inside an old duffel bag and pulling several large stacks of cash out of his safe before running with you in tow to the body shop down the road to hotwire the most inconspicuous car there. You were ready to go, to leave your mundane life behind if it meant being with him like you’d spent many sleepless nights fantasizing about.

There were many pressing issues at hand, tasks that needed to be completed to ensure you wouldn’t be caught. You needed aliases, a story to cover your tracks as you drove cross country to evade arrest, and what Rafe suggested after hours of contemplation made your heart skip a beat.

“If anyone asks what we’re doing on the road, I’m your dad, and we’re going to visit family, got that?” His left hand held strong atop the steering wheel, the strength of his grip making the veins in his forearm particularly prominent in that moment. You swallowed, eyes wide as he took his eyes off of the road for a split second to see you slowly nodding your head in understanding.

“Like anyone’s going to believe I’m your kid.” You joked, your voice cracking despite your efforts to disguise how flustered the thought of calling him dad made you.

“Believe it or not babydoll, I am actually old enough to be your dad. I doubt anyone will think it's that far-fetched of an idea.”

“We don’t even look alike.” You scoffed, turning to watch the expanse of technicolor trees climbing the mountain side directly out your window.

“No one’s gonna be paying attention to our family resemblance if we stay under the radar, just keep your pretty mouth shut and you won’t have to worry about it.”

That thought was the only one you could conjure for the next two hours on the road until Rafe pulled into the parking lot of a seedy old motel so the two of you could get some much needed rest. He had to go out for gas and to buy a change of clothes for you and him at the truck stop down the road the next morning, shaking you out of your slumber to drag you to the closet and handcuff you to the hanger rod in the small closet.

“Now don’t think I don’t trust you babydoll, I do, but these are an insurance policy in case that silly little mind of yours decides to go all rational on me, understand?” He locked the first cuff around your wrist before looping the chain over the bar and securing your other one, leaving you to struggle against the metal.

“C’mon Dad, just take me with you.” You teasingly pleaded, pushing your chest out as you tried to take a step toward him.

“Can’t, it’ll look suspicious if we’re with each other all the time. You have to stay here and I gotta get this done so we can get back on the road. I’ll be back in twenty minutes tops.” He left you there, slamming the motel room door behind him as a silent threat to be good. You did, staying in place and stirring over how you could manage to take this whole dad thing further to push Rafe’s buttons as much as you could. You were getting bored. As much fun as running from the law was, the miles of highway and generic gas stations and fast food places were starting to meld together into one monotonous blob in your head, and you wanted some good old fashioned entertainment. You made a plan, figuring you’d slowly execute it over the next few days.

The next thing on your fugitive checklist was a change in appearance. You dyed and cut your hair in a truck stop bathroom after a couple days of driving, knowing your face and signature long locks were likely all over broadcast television at that point. Rafe, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen on the idea of chopping off his beloved mullet. He’d grown accustomed to it, spent twenty years perfecting the length and cut to his liking, but he knew he had to part ways with it if it meant keeping you. He hadn’t had a buzz cut in decades, not since his early twenties, and he wasn’t sure how it would suit his more mature features, but your words of encouragement gave him the push he needed to grab the electric clippers and head for a mirror.

When he finally walked out of that old motel bathroom, you had to bite back a moan. He was hot before, no doubt about it, but with the buzzcut? You wondered what it would be like to feel that peach fuzz against your palms as you pushed his face further into your pussy.

“Thoughts?” He studied the look on your face, that glint of something desperate in your eyes as the corners of your mouth pulled into a soft smile.

“I love it! Very dilf of you.” You beamed, giggling to yourself while shifting to your knees on the creaky old motel bed as he closed the space between you.

“You realize you just implied you want to fuck me, right?” He folded his arms over his chest, toned biceps framing firm pecs and you had to swallow back a groan at the sight.

“I know exactly what I was implying, Dad.” You pulled him closer by the bottom of his shirt, the look of amusement on his stubbled face only emboldening you further.

He stood at the side of the bed, looking down at you as your hands found the back of his neck, rubbing over the soft patch of hair at the nape just to feel the velvety smooth texture for a moment. The sound of the nightly news droning on the television across the room quickly became drowned out by the white noise of both of your bated breaths. You couldn’t take it anymore, all the stolen glances and unspoken tension. You needed him, now.

“Rafe, please.” The words came out like a whine, more needy than you’d intended.

“Please, what?” He cocked his head to the side, the corners of his lips pulling into an inquisitive smirk.

“You know what.” Your hands moved over his shoulders and down to his chest, fingertips ghosting over his shirt.

“I need to hear you ask for it. I’ve made a lot of fucked up choices in my life and my morals may not be that sound but I do have some that I won’t compromise on. I need to know I’m not taking advantage of you.” He took your wrists in his hands, stalling your movements until you made eye contact with him.

“I may be young but I know what I want, Rafe. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I moved in next to you.” He wasn’t exactly surprised by your bluntness, but hearing those words in your angelic voice still threatened to knock the wind out of him.

“Fuck, baby, you’re breaking my heart here. You know how many times I fought the urge to knock on your door and just flat out ask to taste your sweet pussy?” He dropped your wrists, instinctively going to run his right hand through his hair only to be reminded he’d just buzzed it all for you.

“God, Rafe, I wish you would’ve, we could’ve avoided this whole thing.” You sighed, hands returning to his chest as you looked almost painfully into his tired eyes. There was so much built up energy between the two of you, emotional and sexual, and as a tear slipped down your cheek, all Rafe could think about was how pretty you’d look crying with his cock in your mouth.

“If we were still back in Kildare I’d be showing you off all over town, making every one of those little frat boy assholes jealous with you on my arm.” His tone dipped an octave as his rough hand met your cheek, brushing the tear away. His eyes bore into yours until you looked down to his chest to hide your flattered blush.

“I’ve wanted to pull the goddamn car over and pound you into the backseat on the side of the highway for three weeks.” He exhaled as he spoke and something broke inside of you, a chain snapping to let you finally crash your lips against his. It was crushing, all plush lips and slipping tongues, small gasps for air as your hands groped at one another, pulling at fabric until you’d both managed to discard your shirts.

“You’ve really been hiding these from me this whole time, sugar?” He sighed, large hands groping your breasts over your thin lace bralette.

“I wasn’t hiding anything, it’s not my fault I’ve been living in baggy truck stop shirts for weeks.” You shot back, arching into his touch despite your attitude.

“Didn’t know you had slutty little things like this on underneath ‘em.” He snapped the thin strap against your shoulder, taking note of the way you mewled in response to the short sting the action caused.

“I don’t want to talk anymore Rafe, just fuck me, please.” You whined, your hands haphazardly undoing his belt to allow his worn jeans to fall to the ground.

“That’s not how I do things, babydoll. We’re gonna talk until I say otherwise.“ He paused his movements for a moment, looking into your eyes and it took everything in you not to avert your gaze. You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so intimidated by him, you’d been firing back snarky remarks at him for weeks, what was turning you into this shy thing all of a sudden?

You just nodded, eager for him to keep going. He hesitated, narrowing his eyes for a moment before resigning to continuing his efforts to pull your bralette over your head, finally fully exposing your breasts. He flashed you a smile before pressing a kiss to your lips, gentle at first before devolving into something more hungry, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip as he made his way down to your neck. Your hands found their way to his hips, palming his half-hard cock through his briefs and the low groan that grumbled up from his chest made you reach for the waistband. His hands wrapped around your wrists, halting your movements as he pulled away from your neck, his face only a few inches from yours.

“Slow down, doll. I’m not losing out on the opportunity to see what makes you tick just because you’re impatient.” He chided, holding your wrists together with one hand while he opened the bedside table drawer to search for something.

“I thought guys didn’t like this foreplay stuff.” You sighed, trying to see what he was reaching for.

“That what your little boyfriend told you?” He pulled the handcuffs from the other day out of the drawer, clicking one cuff around your left wrist before moving your arms behind you, securing your right wrist in the remaining cuff.

”You’re gonna learn real fast how good this ‘foreplay shit’ can be for the both of us. I’m going to talk you through every last thing I do and you’re going to tell me exactly how it makes you feel.” The look on his face was serious, not a hint of insincerity in sight, and yet, you couldn’t quite believe what was being demanded of you.

“You want to hear me?” You clarified, the innocence and underlying hurt in your voice almost sending Rafe into another blind rage over how your boyfriend had been treating you before he took care of him.

“I need to, that pretty voice is what keeps me going every day.” Rafe wasn’t usually so sappy, that snarky attitude of his running rampant for as long as you had known him, but there was something about the softness you held underneath that opinionated exterior that made him want to be soft with you. You could go toe to toe with him in sarcasm any day, but he wanted to meet you in that softness you didn’t show very often. He continued his position at the curve of your jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses across your skin that made it feel like he would devour you whole if given the opportunity.

“You’re purring like a kitten and I’ve barely touched you.” You could feel his smirk against your skin along with the cockiness in his tone and as much as you wanted to retaliate, put him in his place, you couldn’t find the words. He was impossibly good, each nip and suck of his lips and teeth down the column of your neck drawing quickened breath and needy whimpers from your kiss-bitten lips.

He continued the trail down to your collarbone, ghosting his lips over your skin as his hand splayed out over your stomach, gently pushing until you took the hint and laid back on the bed. You could feel your cuffed hands digging into you, repositioning them to sit in the curve of your lower back, the slight discomfort quickly falling to the wayside as Rafe’s mouth returned to your chest, plush lips wrapping around your right nipple. His fingers found the left, brushing rough fingertips over your sensitive bud as he sucked softly, movements working in tandem to draw as much sound from you as possible.

You stretched your legs, thighs absentmindedly spreading to allow him space to slot his toned thigh between them as he continued to shower your breasts with attention, marking your skin with bruising kisses and tweaking your nipples until you couldn’t help but moan his name.

“So sensitive babydoll, you like when daddy plays with your tits?” He pulled away from your chest, shifting so his face was above yours, his pupils blown with desire as he took in the sight of you all worked up for the first time.

“Mhm.” Your face flushed at the bluntness, his confidence and curiosity such an interesting change of pace from the men you’d been with before.

“Speak up.” His playful tone turned serious again, his hands moving to your hips as he pulled your hips to the end of the bed, your clothed cunt pressed against the thick of his bare thigh. You gasped as he flexed the muscles in his thigh, rocking against your aching clit through your increasingly wet panties.

“I’m not him, princess. Let me hear you.” He gently gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as he brought his movements to a halt, watching your face drop in disappointment from the lack of friction.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this, I love it, Rafe.” Your voice held a slight tremble as you forced yourself to share your thoughts, still so unfamiliar with the notion that a man could want to know how you’re feeling.

“God am I glad I killed that piece of shit. He didn’t fuckin’ deserve you.” He sighed, a hint of pride lacing his low tone as he ran his hands over your sides, feeling every curve of your body as he slowly dropped to his knees beside the bed. He slid his hands over your hips beneath the fabric of your underwear, pulling the thin cotton slowly down your legs.

“Look at me.” He waited for you to carefully prop yourself up on your elbows, the cuffs digging into your wrists from the angle. His eyes held your gaze in an almost intimidating stare, his hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“You ever had your pussy eaten baby?” His question caught you off guard despite how obvious it seemed given his current position, and you were sure he already knew the answer from the look on your face.

“N-no, every guy I’ve been with said it was gross.” As soon as the statement hit Rafe’s ears he could feel that anger rise to another level, the need to make you forget about every shitty guy you’d been with stronger than ever.

“Where are you finding these assholes? I’ll kill the rest of them too, just say the word.” His tone was lighthearted but you knew from the look on his face that he was the furthest thing from joking. You laughed him off, your attention pulling to his hands finally pushing your thighs apart, making space for him to slot his broad shoulders between your legs.

“Rafe, you don’t have to.” You tried to pull your legs together but to no avail, the action only spurring him on. He hooked his hands underneath your thighs, pushing your knees up to your chest to give him full access to your cunt.

“No shit, I want to. Need you to keep your eyes on me so you can see how much I’m enjoying tasting your sweet pussy.” He locked eyes with you as he dipped his head lower, watching the way your brow furrowed and a soft gasp left your lips when he gave the first drag of his tongue through your folds. He smiled briefly before diving back in, lapping hungrily at your dripping entrance before sucking softly at your clit, the way your thighs tensed under his grip a physical indication of how much you were enjoying it.

He glanced up at you, watching the way your bottom lip quivered with every whimper and moan of his name in response to his tongue expertly flicking over your clit. His right hand slowly slid down from your thigh, his pointer and middle finger prodding teasingly at your entrance before sinking into your wet heat, the new sensation making you buck your hips against him. He pumped steadily in and out of you, massaging your walls with each flex of his fingers as he pulled his mouth off of you.

“How does it feel babydoll? Everything you hoped it would be?” He smirked at you and you had to fight the urge to laugh at the almost ridiculous question. You knew he knew how good he was making you feel, and yet he still wanted you to stroke his ego. He sure was living up to the reputation he held back on Kildare, that’s for sure.

“Yes, fuck, it’s so good, just keep going, please.” You sighed in frustration, desperate to have his mouth on you again. He had the nerve to laugh, but you couldn’t find it in you to call him out on it, just relieved to see him lowering his head back down to your cunt.

He wasted no time, flicking over your clit at an impossibly quick pace, his fingers curling up to hit that soft spot inside of you until you were throwing your head back, barely able to support yourself anymore as your elbows gave out behind you, falling back against the mattress as your thighs began to tremble. He wrapped his lips around your clit, humming in satisfaction as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, the sound of his name falling from your lips in a desperate cry like music to his ears.

He continued lapping gently at your cunt, working you through your orgasm until he could slowly slip his fingers from you, his digits coated in your cum. He waited for you to catch your breath, taking a moment to recover before propping yourself back up on your elbows, looking down at him through half lidded eyes. As soon as your eyes met his he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking your slick off of them slowly, savoring the taste. Your lips parted in a small gasp, barely even audible, seeing him enjoy going down on you just as much as you had enjoyed it.

He rose to his feet, putting his erection right at your eye level and your small gasp turned into something much more substantial, the sound drawing Rafe’s attention.

“Did that really turn you on that much?” You squeaked out, your voice much more unsteady than you intended it to be.

“I told you it would be good for both of us, I don’t lie about shit like that.” He took a step toward the edge of the bed, His thumbs slipping into the waistband of his underwear before pulling it down, his weighty cock slapping against his thigh as he did so. You bit your lip, watching him wrap his hand around the base of his shaft before tapping the tip against your sensitive clit, the action sending a jolt of pleasure straight to the coil in the pit of your stomach. He rubbed his shaft through your folds, coating himself in your wetness as he watched your expression change from confusion to curiosity to desperation.

“Feel that? It’s all for you, babydoll.” He leaned forward, his face only a few inches above yours as he continued rubbing himself against your cunt, teasingly brushing over your clit in a way that had you squirming and silently begging for more.

“What, baby? What do you need?” He asked, feigning ignorance to what he knew he was doing to you. This was the longest any of your sexual encounters had lasted and he wasn’t even inside of you yet.

“Need you inside of me, please.” You whined, trying to shift your hips to position him lower. He took hold of your hips, stopping your efforts before abruptly flipping you onto your stomach in the middle of the bed, your head almost hanging off the end. You felt the mattress shift under his weight as he positioned himself behind you, pulling your hips up to meet his so you were kneeling before him. Your cuffed wrists made it impossible for you to lift your upper half without assistance, your face and breasts resting against the mattress with your cunt on full display.

“Bet your shitty little boyfriends never showed you how to do anything other than missionary, that right?” You whimpered out a soft “yeah” as you pushed your hips back, feeling his head bump your entrance for a moment before he pushed fully into you, slow enough to allow you to get used to the angle but not torturously slow. He was over playing games now, all he wanted was to show you what you’d been missing with every man who wasn’t him. Your eyes rolled back, the unfamiliar angle stimulating your sensitive walls in ways you’d never experienced before. He steadily increased his pace, his balls slapping against your clit with every slam of his hips, that familiar pressure building impossibly quickly.

“Who’s that pretty girl on the tv? She looks awfully familiar.” His voice pulled your attention away from your impending orgasm for just a moment just as he took hold of the handcuffs and pulled your arms back, putting the tv right in your line of sight. The image that flashed before you made your stomach flip, a group of three photos of you with your physical traits and last known whereabouts listed beside them as the news anchor read off a teleprompter, “Nationwide search for missing Kildare, North Carolina woman continues as police expand their search into three new states.”

Your eyes glossed over, the sight all too surreal and the feeling of his cock hitting places so deep inside of you that you weren’t even sure they existed before this very moment too much as every nerve ending in your body erupted in euphoria, the strained cry of pleasure that ripped from your throat almost drowning out the news broadcast.

“You like seeing your missing poster plastered everywhere? Want everyone to know I own you now?” He teased, continuing to fuck into you as you mumbled incoherently in response, too fucked out to form a proper response.

“Listen to that, they’re saying I kidnapped you, callin’ me a monster. If only they could see how good I’m making you feel right now babydoll, how good your daddy’s making you feel.” His words pierced through your post orgasm haze, pressure starting to build in your tummy again.

“Oh my god, daddy, it’s too much, I can’t, please!” You begged, overwhelmed by the pleasure still coursing through your body as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm with every thrust, his remarks only spurring you on.

“I know you can baby, your pussy’s gripping me like a vice.” He laughed again, but you could feel his hips starting to falter, his thrusts becoming sloppy, he had to be just as close as you were.

“Fuck, who’s your daddy, baby?” He groaned, watching the way your ass reverberated back against him with every thrust.

“You are!” You moaned, so close to the edge.

“Say it.” He commanded, a darkness present in his tone that hadn't been there before.

“You are, Rafe, you’re my daddy!” You cried out, a white heat unlike anything you’d ever felt before rushing through you as you felt a warmth gush from your cunt, your body going limp against him, his grip on your hip and the cuffs being the only things to keep you from completely collapsing into the mattress.

You barely registered him pulling out of you and cumming on your ass, the warmth of the white stickiness dripping down into your folds being one of the only things able to draw you back to reality.

“You ever done that before?” His voice sounded miles away, your ears still ringing from your release.

“Done what?” You asked sleepily, turning your head to look at him. When you saw the liquid dripping down his lower stomach and thighs onto the wet spot on the bed, your eyes went wide, trying to scramble to your knees the best you could with your wrists still cuffed.

“Oh my god, no, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” The panic in your voice startled him, but that quickly turned to anger as he thought about what your shitty exes had done to you to make you feel like you needed to apologize for something so natural.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” He soothed you the best he could, grabbing the key to the cuffs and undoing them as he rubbed the red marks on your wrists to ground you.

“You’re not mad?” You asked, blinking back the tears that had gathered in your waterline.

“God, no. I’m gonna be making you squirt all the time now that I know you can.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood again. You smiled, and his anger quelled. He had to remind himself that those assholes were in your rear view, he was your future. That’s all that mattered.

“What about the sheets?” You asked, standing from the bed to pull the wet linens off of the mattress, bunching them up in a pile in the corner of the room.

“I’ll just go ask for new ones at the front office, you go hop in the shower and I’ll join you when I get back.” He reassured, kissing you on the forehead and using the loose sheets to dry off his stomach before reaching for his scattered articles of clothing to get dressed to run to the office.

—

tagging: @starkeysprincess @rafesfawn @eddiesxangel @theeternaloptimistt @drewscoquette @rafesangelita @rafelust @bunbun-3 @poopiefartz @coquettebiatch @lilbunnyorwhatever @alejstarkey

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[monzabee]

she's the lady in red (when everybody else is wearing tan) - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: there is an fbi gala and hotch finds himself in dire need of a date for the evening. who's a better candidate than his nanny?   

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: rossi as a matchmaker, sexual tension, hotch has feeeeeelings (that he doesn’t know how to process) 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

He should’ve said no when Dave suggested the idea that you accompany him to the bureau gala.  

In fact, Aaron is certain he did say no—at least twice. But Rossi had just given him that smug, knowing look, the one that meant he wasn’t really asking, just informing Aaron of how things were going to unfold. And somehow, that’s how Aaron Hotchner finds himself standing in the middle of his foyer, waiting for you to come out of your room.  

“Miss Y/LN, we are going to be late,” he calls out, glancing at his watch with a sigh. 

The last thing Aaron wants is to make a grand entrance at the gala, but Rossi had been insistent that he bring a date—more insistent still that you were the perfect candidate. And despite every logical argument against it, here he is, standing in the foyer of his own home, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket while he waits for you. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Your voice floats down the hall, light and amused, but he catches the edge of nervousness in it. “How do I look?” 

He glances up as you step into view, and his brain immediately short-circuits. You look stunning. The black fabric your dress is s draping in a way that is both elegant and utterly breathtaking. Your hair is styled perfectly, your makeup subtle but just enough to make him notice details about you that he really shouldn’t be noticing. But Aaron is not a man easily rattled. He tamps down the reaction threatening to show on his face, clears his throat, and says, “You look fine, now let’s go.”  

Your lips part with shock, and he can even see Jack and Jessica giving him matching looks of disbelief from across the room. “Fine?” you echo, folding your arms over your chest. “I need gorgeous, I’m changing.” 

Aaron exhales sharply. “We don’t have time for this.” 

You ignore him completely, spinning on your heel and disappearing back into your room with a dramatic click of the door. 

Jessica lets out a low whistle. “Oh, you messed up.” 

Jack, sitting on the couch with his legs swinging, nods in though. “She never just looks fine.” 

Aaron drags a hand down his face. He should’ve just told you the truth—because the truth is that you looked incredible, enough to make his pulse trip in a way that was entirely inappropriate for someone in his position. But saying it out loud would mean acknowledging it—and acknowledging it would lead to thoughts that he’s been trying very hard to suppress. 

So, instead, here he is, standing in his foyer, waiting again. “Miss Y/L/N,” he calls out, his voice strained with impatience. “We’re going to be late.” 

“If you’re so worried about being late, just go without me, I’ll come later!” You voice calls out through the door, laced with faux nonchalance. 

Aaron exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not an option.” 

“Well, then, I’m going to need a few more minutes,” you reply, sounding entirely too pleased with yourself.  

He can practically feel the smile on your face, and it’s enough to drive him a little mad. Aaron’s patience is beginning to wear thin, but there’s something about your playful tone that keeps him from making the rash decision of storming out of the house without you. He just wonders how he is going to survive tonight with you by his side. 

Aaron shouldn’t have let you leave the house—and he doesn’t mean this in a possessive caveman sort of a way. He means it in a, I can’t think straight when you are sitting right next to me and I might accidentally crash this car in a tree, sort of a way. He knows he’s good at schooling his expressions, he’s been told this a lot of times throughout his life, but tonight, it feels like an impossible task. Because the moment you stepped into the car—your dress brushing against the seat, the scent of your perfume curling around him—Aaron felt his carefully maintained control slip, just a fraction. And now, he’s across the room sipping his drink, whilst watching you. You look at ease, laughing at something Garcia says, nodding along as Morgan gestures wildly in some grand retelling of a story. You fit in so effortlessly, as if you were always meant to be here, part of this world. 

He should look away. 

Yet he finds himself unable to do so. But then, as if sensing his thoughts, you glance up, locking eyes with him across the room. Your smile doesn’t falter, but there’s something in your gaze—something teasing, something knowing. 

You catch him staring. 

Aaron freezes, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful you look under the dim lighting, how effortlessly you command the attention of everyone around you. He shouldn’t be wondering how the night might unfold if he let himself indulge just a little, if he let himself forget, just for a moment, that this is supposed to be nothing more than an obligatory evening with someone who is only doing him a favor. 

Rossi appears at his side not a second later, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in trouble, my friend.” 

Aaron exhales slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Rossi chuckles, following his line of sight. “Sure, you don’t.” He takes a sip of his own drink before adding, “You know, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

Aaron tenses. “Dave—” 

“I’m just saying,” Rossi interrupts, holding up a hand. “You spend so much time convincing yourself that you can’t have nice things. Maybe it’s time to reconsider.” 

“It would be... inappropriate.” Aaron mutters, swirling the remainder of his drink around the glass.  

Rossi hums, clearly unimpressed. “The only inappropriate thing here is the fact that you’ve left her alone.”  

“She’s not alone,” Aaron points out, “she is with Garcia and Morgan, and she seems to be enjoying herself.” 

Rossi raises an eyebrow, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re missing the point, Aaron. She’s with them, but she’s not with them. You’re standing over here, sulking by yourself, while she’s over there, looking like she’s the center of the party. The thing is, you can’t ignore the fact that she’s not just doing you a favor anymore.” 

“I’m not doing this,” he says flatly, but it sounds like a lie, even to his own ears. 

Rossi gives him a knowing smile. “Sure, you’re not. But that’s what you keep telling yourself, right?” He pats Aaron’s shoulder and turns to walk away. “Just think about it. You might surprise yourself.” 

As much as he hates to admit it, Rossi’s words resonate with him on some level. And with every passing moment, the need to get closer, to figure this out, grows stronger. He can feel the tension building inside him. Every time you laugh, every time your eyes find his, it’s like an unspoken promise—one that he’s not sure he’s ready for, but that he’s terrified to ignore. He drowns the rest of his drink as he pushes himself off the bar he’s been leaning against, and makes his way across the room toward you. His steps are deliberate, though his heart is pounding louder with each one. He knows he’s walking into uncharted territory now. 

You’re talking to Garcia, your eyes lit up with amusement as Morgan tries to tell another one of his over-the-top stories. The sound of your laughter reaches him, and for a second, he’s caught off guard by how good it feels to hear. He stops just a few steps away, unsure of how to approach this, unsure of how to even begin. 

You glance over your shoulder and catch his gaze. There’s no playful teasing in your eyes now—just an invitation, like you can see the conflict written all over his face. “Oh hi, is everything okay?” you ask, your voice soft, almost too gentle for the room's lively sounds. 

Aaron takes a breath, pushes aside the rush of thoughts. “I think you owe me a dance.” He’s surprised by the firmness in his own voice. It comes out more like a challenge than a suggestion, but somehow, it feels right. 

You blink, momentarily surprised. “A dance?” you repeat, sounding amused. “I didn’t know you danced, Mister Hotchner.” 

Aaron exhales sharply, tilting his head slightly. “I make exceptions,” he says, his tone edged with dry amusement. “Are you going to make me ask twice?” 

Your lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. “I think I like hearing you ask,” you tease, but there’s warmth in your voice, something softer beneath the playful edge. 

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand, “before I change my mind.” 

You study him for a moment—his unreadable expression, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers flex slightly, like he’s not used to reaching for something just because he wants it. And then, without another word, you slip your hand into his. He guides you toward the dance floor with quiet confidence, weaving through the crowd with ease.  

Aaron places a careful hand on your waist, his touch light but firm at the same time. The other still holds yours, firm yet hesitant, as if he’s acutely aware of every point of contact. “You know,” you muse, tilting your head, “I never pegged you for the dancing type.” 

“I’m full of surprises,” Aaron replies, his voice low. 

You hum, clearly unconvinced. “Is that so?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifts slightly, guiding you into an easy rhythm. You move together effortlessly, the closeness between you a delicate balance of restraint and something neither of you are ready to name. “I suppose you’ll have to find out,” he finally says, his lips quirking in the faintest hint of a smirk. 

“Mister Hotchner,” you gasp, a smile widening your smile, “is that a smile I see?” 

Aaron exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t get used to it.” 

“Oh, but I think I will,” you tease, tilting your head to get a better look at him. “It’s a good look on you.” 

His grip on your waist tightens—just for a fraction of a second, barely noticeable, but enough to make your breath hitch. There’s something different about him tonight, something lingering in the way he holds you, in the way his eyes flicker with something unspoken. 

“You’re enjoying this,” he accuses lightly, though there’s no real bite to his words. 

“You could say that,” you admit easily, eyes twinkling. “Are you?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances down, watching the way your hands fit together, the way your bodies move in sync with the soft melody filling the air. Then, as if coming to some sort of quiet resolution, he meets your gaze again. “Yes,” he says, his voice softer this time. “I think I am.” 

“Good.” You hum, smiling up at him, “It’s a much better look on you than the one you had earlier.” 

Aaron raises an eyebrow. “The one I had earlier?” 

You nod, biting back a grin. “You know, the one where you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world.” 

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “I didn’t—” He stops himself, sighing. “Alright, maybe I did.” 

You laugh, the sound light and warm, and something about it makes his chest tighten. “And yet, here you are, willingly dancing with me.” 

Aaron tilts his head slightly, considering you. “Maybe you’re more persuasive than I thought.” 

“Or maybe,” you counter, voice dropping just slightly, “it was my dress, hm?” 

His grip on you tightens just the slightest bit, and his jaw tenses like he’s fighting back a reaction. You can see the flicker of hesitation in his gaze, the momentary war between logic and something far more dangerous. But then, instead of pulling away, he exhales slowly and meets your eyes with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it—something resolved. “You already know the answer to that.” 

Your breath catches. The playful teasing between you is replaced with something more pulling.  Aaron’s fingers flex against your waist, like he’s testing the boundaries of this moment, deciding just how far he’s willing to let himself go. His gaze dips briefly to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you swear you feel the earth tilt beneath you. 

“Do I?” You ask, but he can tell the usual teasing is absent when your words come out more breathy than usual. “You haven’t commented on my current choice of clothing, at all. If anything, I’m rather disappointed.” 

He searches your eyes for any sign of teasing, but all he finds is quiet challenge, a barely concealed curiosity that mirrors his own. Aaron swallows, his grip on you firm but careful, as if he’s weighing the risks of giving in to whatever this is. His voice is lower when he finally speaks, edged with something you can’t quite name. “You already know what I think,” he murmurs, his thumb ghosting over the fabric at your waist. “I think you are the most gorgeous woman in this room.”  

“Oh,” The single syllable barely escapes your lips, softer than a breath, but he hears it. You see the way his jaw tenses, how his fingers twitch slightly where they rest against you, like he’s resisting the urge to pull you closer. He waits for you to turn this whole thing into a joke, or an attempt at teasing him, but it never comes.  Your fingers tighten slightly around his, and your voice is quieter now, more uncertain than you expected. “I didn’t think you noticed things like that.” 

His lips press together, and for a moment, you think he won’t answer. But then his grip shifts, just slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that feels almost on purpose. “I notice everything about you.” 

Your heart stumbles. 

The music is still playing, the crowd still swirling around you, but none of it matters. Not when he’s looking at you like that, not when his voice is laced with something so unspoken, so dangerous. “Aaron…” You don’t know what you’re about to say, but his name leaves your lips before you can stop it. 

Something flickers in his gaze, something torn between restraint and the pull of whatever this is. But before either of you can figure it out, the music shifts, the tempo picking up just slightly, and reality slips back in like a breath of cold air. 

He blinks, inhales slowly, and when he speaks again, his voice is steadier, like he’s found his footing. “Come on,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “I believe you owe me another dance.” 

[moonastro]

Groom persona chart

The ascendant in the signs

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

The ascendant in the groom persona chart can tell us what your husbands appearance can be like, also how you would describe them as a person.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

Aries ascendant: spouse can be very muscular, love to workout or do any major, high intensity work or workouts. May love to keep themselves fit whether it’s physically or mentally. Can eat very harshly, ( and I mean they can eat like animals 😅). May like to rush every single thing that they do, eating, doing chores, folding clothes, getting to appointments, they can all be things that they just rush doing. I have noticed that this placement gives your spouse a high temper, like they can genuinely get angry over the little things and will hold a grudge about it too. In terms of appearance, may due their hair a funky colour, can wear funky accessories also like have piercings on their face, even tattoos.

Taurus ascendant: future spouse may be build strong. Not so much as muscular but just genuinely his body may be naturally strong. With this placement, your spouse can enjoy the social interaction from having meals together. He may protrude this big energy physically but inside may be very soft and gentle. May like to express himself by voice stimming, an example would be humming, singing in general, making random noises with his mouth.

Gemini ascendant: your future spouse may be lean and appear to be taller than they are. May look friendly and love LOVEEE to talk. May have a nice voice or you may be interested in their voice also. Can have youthful face and stature. Can even have a voice that sounds like they are younger also. These individuals with this placement can have a spouse that craves to talk, and I’m not saying that they want to talk because of boredom no, it’s something that they connect with, it’s something that they genuinely want to do without thinking about it if that makes sense.

Cancer ascendant: spouse can be a very caring person. In terms of appearance, can dress according to the event. Like if it’s for professional matters, will dress professionally, if for staying at home, comfy clothes etc. can have round features and it may not have to be on the face, it could be around the body also like having a round nose, round forehead, round chest etc. your spouse can also have a resting sad face or even so they really tell how they think based on their facial expressions. Like their face will NOT lie, they will react accordingly to how they feel about a situation. May have slight eye-bags if they haven’t been keeping well like if they haven’t been able to get enough sleep, or have been overworked, you can tell that by their face, like may have dry skin, puffy eyes because of not resting or keeping good care of themselves physically.

Leo ascendant: these individuals are well known by a lot of people. Whether it’s what they do for work, from their social interactions, their hobbies, your spouses name may just be something that people have heard of and know of. Your future spouse may do anything and it can be analysed by the public even if no one knows him, but he can have a lot of confidence within him, so this can be why people tend to keep an eye out on him. In terms of appearance, may always dress up for any occasion, may like to jazz up their appearance from time to time for example like dye their hair purple( or whatever colour), or wear some makeup, even dressing up a completely different style etc.

Virgo ascendant: spouse may be of average height, on the leaner side. May look youngER than his age. Can have facial hair or look clean with it, suit it also. With this placement I have noticed that people don’t notice them for their looks but their vibe, I don’t know if this makes sense but people don’t tend to notice their appearance like clothes etc, but their personality and their actions. For your spouse, actions speak louder than ANYTHING, they look good in anything tbh, just as long as their actions are in check everything’s all good. In terms of personality they like to chat, talking is like the most important thing to them, not only that noticing them and making them feel heard is important also. Omggg also may tend to blush easily, and their smile may be something you love about them. They can tend to smile a lot.

Libra ascendant: spouse may look and appear to be well groomed. Whether it’s facial hair cut, hairstyle sorted, clothes ironed etc. spouse may care what others think of them about their appearance. Also this placement loves to be clean and smell clean so your spouse may look after their hygiene and genuinely enjoy to smell nice 24/7. Personality wise spouse can be lighthearted, but tend to judge others by their flaws and often miss their own. May have unknown enemies or people who assume things or go off by rumours said about him.

🌸for example, my mother has Libra degree ascendant (7°) and my father would always nitpick the tiniest of flaws in his clothes, even to us as kids😂😂. Like if our uniform had a little stain he would notice and say something about it, he always and I mean ALWAYS has a clean shaven face, irons all his clothes by himself and the list goes on and on and you get the gist.

Scorpio ascendant: your spouse may look intimidating and have heavy Pluto placements. Appearance wise may have dark eye circles/bags, have pointy features but may be muscular ( not Aries like) not buff but just naturally muscular. With this placement I’ve noticed they tend to lose their hairline as they age. But also may tan very easily. As to sum up what they will be a s a person may never give up with their opinion, your spouse may be one to keep arguing until their point is heard, it’s not like they think it’s right it’s them getting the point that it’s important to them. Also may be tall and slim unless other planets in first house that can interpret otherwise.

Sagittarius ascendant: spouse may be tall, a lot taller than you anyway. May come from a different country so may have features that look foreign or different to yours. I’ve noticed with this placement spouse can become more at ease with their appearance as the relationship gets further on down the line. By that I mean they may not be too compelled to look perfect. For example, may let their facial hair grow out, may repeat outfits multiple of days in a row, may put on weight etc etc. ( really depends on degree and other planets in 1st house). As to say for personality may be always matching your energy, may make the effort to always put your needs before his also.

🌸for example, my aunt has sag ascendant and Venus in first house, they have been together for years and from the first time they have met until now he has a tendency to snack ( Venus trait of sweet treats) therefore has put on a bit of weight(ABSOLUTELY FRIGGIN NOT A BAD THING- just an observation). Also to back this up( as I am NOT stating that this is true to anyone who has a Sagittarius ascendant or Venus in 1st house) she has Jupiter in 6th house( body, health) so ya know.

Capricorn ascendant: spouse can have sharp bone structure anywhere around his body. May like to look lean and tidy. Spouse can naturally portray a serious aura around him even when unintentional. Your future spouse may love to dress up not in a fun way but a smart way, like he may love buying new suits, new shoes, new ties etc. he can represent himself as someone smart but may often like to keep the same style on him. I’ve noticed that they may tend to do that in accordingly so that people can associate them with that piece of clothing, but it never looks bad on them for how many times he repeats the outfit.

Aquarius ascendant: your future spouse can have this cartoon character appearance. I don’t know why but they do, they can have features that look good on them but if you analysed them individually they would look almost weird. Like for example may have eyes that are close together, or a nose that is extremely pointy, or like lips that have a noticeable outline on them etc etc. little things that you would have to look for in order to actually tell them apart. But on them it looks natural if that makes sense. Your spouse can either be the type to follow trends if they like it and dress accordingly to the latest trends, or be the type to have their own style that stays out of the trends.

Pisces ascendant: spouse can look tired or look sad naturally. Oops I don’t know but all the people with this placement have a partner that looks high. But nonetheless, spouse may be gentle and just very soft spoken and have this light energy around them. May look soft and clean. Can be the type of person who stays out of drama or is a behinds the scene type of person. They may complete something but it may be unknown by many. Can rarely raise their voice, like may often times stay quite most of the time. Also another thing is they tend to have this peaceful energy about them, they may have light feet and so sometimes you won’t even notice they have left or entered a room (just a silly obs).

Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to like my content, it is much appreciated. I hope you all have a lovely rest of your day 😊🌼

[floralpools]

Hi love, you have an amazing imagination, and I love your writing style. I was wondering if you could maybe do some more with Wolverine. I'm in that x men stage again. And I loved you last piece of work on him. Maybe you could do a continuation of it or think of something completely new. Anyway, dont feel pressured ❤️

A/N: ur actually so sweet, thank uu! I'm also rlly shocked but appreciative of all the love Professor Howlett received, so u don't even have to ask twice for more, it's my pleasure ;)

Divided Attention

Professor Howlett II

Part one

Warnings: minors dni, Smut, fluff, language, jealousy, (legal) age gap, oral, f!receiving, semi-public

Pairing: Logan x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Things were going well with you and Logan, until he suddenly put distance between you both, acting strangely. On top of that, you catch him threatening one of your fellow classmates and have no choice, but to face your issues, head-on.

Word count: 2.6k

…

Any small moment together, Logan and I chased. The little highs we could derive from our busy schedules, we eagerly pursued.

From a quickie in the janitor's closet, a make-out session after class, or a passionate sleepover, Logan consumed every inch of my life. He was consuming every bit of my mind, and an ominous trepidation was closing in, alongside him.

The more I saw him, the greedier I became. Desperate to see and feel more of him, beyond the surface. So, it was no surprise, that I soon desired something more from our casual relationship.

With graduation just around the corner, I was almost home free. Free to outwardly tell him what I yearned for.

But the concern that racked my brain constantly, that trepidation, was whether he wanted the same.

As I was getting to know him, it was clear there were parts of him I had yet to discover, parts he seemed reluctant to reveal. Sometimes he would be open, close by my side. The next second, he would shut down.

What made matters worse, was that recently, he hadn't sought me out. It's felt as though he's no longer hungry for those small moments, that I still very much craved.

Now I'm on edge and have no clue what he's thinking, or what he thinks of us.

...

The day started like any other. I went to each class, exhausted and disinterested, till that afternoon. Something caught my eye, and the eyes of the school's populace: Logan pinning a male student to the wall of the vast, oak wood hallway.

They speak in hushed tones to one another, and the boy looks beyond frightened, while Logan looks ready to tear his head from his scrawny neck.

It takes only a moment for my alarm to pass, and for me to note, that this boy sits next to me in history.

A sharp intake of breath hitches in my throat.

His name's Mikey, and he has been a nuisance to Logan from the get-go, long before our intimate affair. Labelled as the class clown, Mikey uses his obnoxious voice and meddling powers to disturb Logan's lessons, daily. To top it off, Mikey consistently bothers me, mimicking what I say, and staring at my profile, for far too long.

Just when Logan dips his head closer to Mikey, perhaps to rip out his jugular, like the predator he is, Scott interjects.

"Logan! Drop him!" When Scott's unnerved voice orders Logan, my eyes snap to Mikey's feet, which are spraddled in the air, dangling for dear life.

I guess a few days apart made me forget just how strong he is. Maybe he's just too gentle with me to remember.

As his feet slowly lower to the floor, gasps and murmurs flood the halls, and my head frantically shoots around, surprised by the crowd of avid onlookers.

Eyes anxiously surveying the students, I hone in on Logan again, flinching when seeing his pupils, already fixed on me.

He releases Mikey immediately, retracting from him while Scott grabs his bicep, heatedly whispering into his ear, and Mikey scrambles away.

Logan's eyes shy from mine and my mouth gaps. He almost looks, embarrassed. 'Huh?'

Soon, other teachers arrive to intervene, shooing students from the crime scene.

So, aimlessly wandering outside, into the courtyard, hoping to clear my head, I think back on our classes together. Every time Mikey acted up, Logan seemingly couldn’t care less, looking more spent overall, than unsettled by his brazen jokes.

It was kind of funny, seeing Mikey quaking in his boots at the older male. It was only yesterday, that he spoke to me with such forwardness, and to Logan with such rudeness, carrying that typical smug expression -it was nice to see it wiped clean.

I laugh to myself, disbelieving what just transpired. I can only imagine what errand Professor Xavier will make Logan do to atone, or what bonding exercise he and Mikey may perform...

While I trudge down the stone steps, onto the vivid green field, I spot the devil himself, Mikey. He sits under the shade of a grand willow tree, dome hung between his bent knees.

Feeling rather empathetic, I stroll towards him, stopping in front of his feet. Evidently noticing my bright attire, his head pops up, and his dewy eyes widen.

"You alright?" I ask warily and his bottom lip trembles. He sniffs once, toughening up before responding, "I'm good." I nod, then look at the endless landscape to my right. "Whatever you did must've really been something, Mr. Howlett's rarely that peeved."

"You're telling me," he huffs sarcastically, sounding pained. Shifting, I sit beside him, maintaining some space. "If you don't mind me asking, what was that about?" Mikey pauses, thinking hard.

"No clue," he mumbles pitifully. I gawk at him, brows creasing. He peers at me and copies my appearance. "I'm not lying," he exclaims defensively. "There's no way," I retort, scoffing.

"If you don't fucking believe me, why ask," Mikey spits, mumbling "bitch" as he shoots to stomp off.

Suspiring, my crown gingerly falls onto the tree's trunk. Finding comfort in its rugged bark, I calmly savour the crisp air.

I close my eyes, for what feels like a few minutes until a fierce call of my name grips my consciousness. Eyelids cracking open, my vision focuses on Mr. Howlett himself, standing in all his glory, glaring down at me with a brooding look.

"If it isn't the man of the hour," I giggle humourlessly, straightening my spine, but choosing not to stand and seem intimidated, like he evidently wishes me to be.

"You have a nice chat?" Logan questions with an irked tone, obviously remarking on my 'chat' with Mikey. 'Was he watching us?'

I tilt my head defiantly. "I'm not picking sides," I raise both hands in surrender, smiling from ear to ear. His eye faintly twitches, and I nearly gulp. He grumbles incomprehensible nonsense, then chooses to stay relatively quiet, which is unlike him.

"Do you have something to say? Or are you just gonna stand there?" I inquire venomously.

Clearly dispising my attitude, he concentrates on my face, scowling. His features have rage written all over them, but I refuse to bow out of this impending feud.

He grumbles under his breath again, and I break.

"Speak up!" I shout, swiftly bringing my gaze to our surroundings, making sure we're alone -which is something Logan clearly isn't worried about.

"What the fuck do you two have to talk about?" He just about growls and I tense, stunned. My face contorts with perplexity. "Me and Mikey?" I question, and his eyebrows nearly conjoin in response. "Not much, just discussing you're outburst," heaving, I continue, "though he didn't have much to say on the topic," sighing, "you?"

His nostrils flare slightly, and I do my best to appear composed. "What else have you talked about?" He grunts, and I roll my eyes, rising to my feet, bored with our conversation. "What's it to you?" I ask rhetorically, internally referring to the distance he'd been building between us.

Moving elsewhere, I roughly brush past his shoulder. He doesn't immediately reply, but trails after me as I march further into the courtyard.

"The fuck you on about?" Logan vulgarly rumbles, and I forget to speak.

My pace then staggers when he delicately wraps his digits over my forearm, tugging me, almost cautiously, backward.

Square to him, I discern his thumb tracing my skin lightly, before finally looking at him. He examines his finger as it sweeps across my flesh. "Logan?" I carefully utter, and his eyes stay glued to where our bodies meet.

"Why do you talk to him," he pauses, snarling with emphasis on 'talk,' yet again. Then he murmurs, "-When you have me?" He’s so quiet, that the words are barely audible. My features instantly soften. “Are you,” I hesitate, “Jealous?��

When he doesn’t answer, I gasp so loud, that my palm slaps over my mouth. He looks around, avoiding eye contact as I grasp the situation. “Did you threaten Mikey 'cause he yaps to me in class?”

Logan scorned the very idea of jealousy, cruising his head in a circle, to showcase his exasperation. I smirk uncontrollably and he snits. "Don't flatter yourself Princess," he remarks blatantly. My smirk only expands. "I can't believe you," I laugh hysterically and he motions like he's going to walk away, but he stays put, and I know I've won.

"Don't pull that face," he complains, gesturing to my proud look.

"What face?" I ask, playing naive, faintly swinging my body side to side. "Just stop talking to him, he's a bad influence," he grunts, peering off to the horizon. I giggle, "Or what? Do you intend to beat every boy who speaks to me?" I counter, and he struggles to fight a smile.

"What if I do," Logan more or less declares.

Shaking my head, "You've got some nerve," I huff, "seeing as you've been avoiding me lately."

"I haven't been avoiding you-"

I interrupt, "Oh yes, you have," playfully punching his gut with a grin, which drops the second my knuckles practically grow a heartbeat. "Ow," I breathe and at last, he laughs.

When Logan's laugh dims, he looks almost sullen. "Didn't think you'd notice," he mumbles and I quirk my chin in confusion. "You seem preoccupied." Gapping at him once more, he rolls his eyes, showing his teeth. "Don't gimme that damn look girl," he heaves, "you're young and, and-"

"And what?"

"Attractive," he sighs heavily, "you don't need an old man weighing you down."

I still, catching his genuine displeasure and defeat. It's like he's disappointed I may seek romance from someone else, but accepts it regardless, for my sake, my happiness.

My heart thumps irregularly and I feel like jumping his bones. I release a lengthy sigh, with a smile twinkling. His brow rises questioningly, seeming anxious about a reaction to his masked insecurity.

"What?" He bites.

"I'm relieved," his confusion visibly progresses. "I thought you were tired of me." As his mouth opens, to probably insult my intelligence, I cut in. "I wanna go steady with you, if that wasn't obvious already." My smile grows sheepish, then taunting, "I like you Lo, and clearly you must love me."

Like he's been holding his breath, a loud puff of air escapes his chapped lips, and I shamelessly watch as he wets them.

"You've gotta be the strangest girl I've ever met," he utters with a smirk forming, and I return one, interpreting his words as a declaration of love.

"Woman," I correct, then babble jokingly, "refined Lady." He confidently strides closer. "Mistress-"

The air leaves my lungs as his solid arms devour me, squeezing tightly.

"You best realize what you're committing to," Logan comments, lightly lifting strands of my hair with his fingertips, to kiss my neck. "That means, no more talking to boys," he grunts, humour coaxing his tone. "Especially ones so far out of your league," he pulls his head back, to peer at my expectant face, "It's not even funny," he finishes with a grin.

I laugh, unable to contain my joy, quickly hiding my wild smile in his chest. A pleased hum rumbles in tune with his heavy breathing, and I listen to his heartbeat's fairly, rapid pace.

For a while, we stay present in each other's arms, with fulfillment and ease consuming our beings, synchronously. Logan's fingers drift across my lower back, leisurely tracing my curves.

"I like you, so much," I whisper airly because the words couldn't be repressed, and had escaped. His hands gradually slow to a halt, till he abruptly draws back. He looks at me, with such intense seriousness, that I shudder.

Then, he pulls away entirely, taking my hand in his larger one, to drag me deeper into the field -into the overgrown areas, looted with massive trees and bushes.

"Logan?" My whisper transforms into a squeak when I'm hauled behind various, untrimmed hedges. His palms grope my hips, stilling me before he drops to his knees. I ogle his smug face as it bores into me, before he wrestles with my pink, low-waisted, jean shorts, impatiently dragging them down my plump thighs. He mumbles, "Ridiculous" when his eyeline levels with my purple, close-to-sheer underwear.

Like my shorts, he yanks them down to my ankles, then swiftly encloses his mouth over my cunt, swiping the folds with his tongue. I throw the back of my hand over my incoming yelp, biting down to muffle it.

"Is this you tryna to deflect admitting you really like me?" I joke meekly as my mouth parts from my hand, but I quickly chomp down again, when he licks me, with a long flick of his tongue. I gasp and whimper, using my spare hand to claw at his scalp for leverage, as he hungrily laps my pussy, sucking on its nub.

A tremor racks my insides, eliciting spasms while he builds up a powerful, but excruciatingly relaxed pace. His bulky digits move to relentlessly rub my clit, applying a rhythmic pressure that makes me sob.

Logan shushes me, mouth still buried in my folds. The buzz of his voice sends shivers through my core, and the strength of his action grows, acknowledging my imminent finish.

“Eyes on me,” Logan basically growls, before diving back into my cunt.

I muffle a cry of his name with a fist now, biting my knuckles. Then, I look from the heavens, back down to the one hand I still have, clenching his silky locks.

My knees begin to buckle and his sizeable palms relocate to support my hips, with his fingertips bordering my ass, kneading it. "I'm close," I gasp, barely audible through my hand. He hums again, and when it elicits another shiver, and shake of my frame, I tumble over his back, wrecked by my climax.

Now hunched over him, with my hands splayed down his torso, I tremble furiously, coming down from my high. I can't help but whine when Logan continuously licks me. He tastes every inch of me like I'm the meal of a lifetime, like I'm oxygen itself.

"Enough," I choke, as my arousal becomes too much. His response is simply plunging further into me, to lick all the way from my ass, to clit.

Steam floods my stomach, lighting me on fire. A raging flame consumes my very being, and I relish in how dirty and dangerous this encounter is -in public on his knees for me, Logan made it known that I'm his, and he let me know, that he couldn't care less who heard us, because I was his.

"You're disturbed," I breathe, and his chuckle resonates louder when he separates from my damp skin. "You love it," he states with a smirk and an arch of his brow. He then runs his tongue over his soaked lips, and I bite back a groan, sighing, "I do."

Lifting, moving my palms to his shoulders, I capture his top lip, sucking on it as a thank you. I grin, and as if he can hear my jest coming from a mile away, he scoffs and turns to hide his smirk.

"And you must lovveee me," I repeat my earlier comment with even more enthusiasm, and he shakes his head.

He rises and I do the same. Logan then goes in for a kiss to shut me up, but just as he does, I catch his mumble of "I do."

I gasp into his mouth, eyelids stretching.

My lids briskly flutter shut when he deepens the kiss, dipping my figure, rather romantically, and we both smile.