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dyingswanpavlova · 22 hours ago

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"Your girl" - Part 14 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Life with him is really good...Right?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, threatening, penetration, breeding kink, degradation kink, cockwarming, edging, overstimulation, sleepy sex (both consent!), not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Life was good.

Uncharacteristically so even.

There was still a tiny part of you that was tense around him and that was for various reasons. One of them being, that you never really knew when his evil persona would take over. So far you could tell, albeit roughly, but there were always moments, when he would simply snap and there was nothing you could do about it. Was that a problem? Probably, but not to you, anyways. Why? Because life was good.

The little trip to the balcony hadn’t been a one-time thing. In fact, it happened more and more regular. Not only to get naughty, because he was a freak, who liked the thought of possibly getting caught – but also because, as he said, you’ve been such a good girl for me all this time. And I told you, sweet girl, I don’t want to keep you locked away. I just needed to make sure you’re mine.

That you were. Quite obviously.

That one time when you told him you wanted to leave, it had been exactly that. One time. The reasons for that outburst were in the past so far. There were still moments when you feared punishment and rightfully so. But to your great relief, you were both learning.

You were learning not to expect a painful blow, whenever you went out of your way to speak your mind (which wasn’t quite as often as you wished, but you were getting there). Slow and steady.

And he? He was learning, too. He was learning to leave you be and control the wild beast that lived inside his mind and soul. The darkness that surrounded him became lighter every day or so it felt to you. Of course he wouldn’t let you downright insult him, without at least some punishment in sight. But he was working on himself and his behavior. He didn’t hurt you without a reason. He didn’t hurt severely. And on some lucky days, he didn’t hurt you at all.

Slow and steady.

What was probably the greatest part of it all, it felt like a relationship. A real one. Two people who shared a life together, doing all kinds of things, sharing an intimate relation, but most importantly, you talked.

You talked a lot.

And now it wasn’t only through games and the fear of punishment. It wasn’t even only you who was forced to talk. No, he talked as well. The important things were still a big issue, obviously. He didn’t have a name, an identity or a past, when it came to you. But you had the great, undying hope that one day he would trust you. Trust you enough to let you know who he was and where he came from, what made him who he was and what was truly important to him.

Sometimes you’d get those tiny, little flickers that shone through his façade, his tight mask. The moments when the look in his eyes became faraway and distant, when his voice became softer and the tension in his body gave way to something quiet. Maybe one day that would be the version of him that you would get. Entirely and without question. Without the filter to rule out his emotions for him.

Until then, though, you would make do with what you had. And what did you have?

His favorite movie? The good, the bad and the ugly. What a question. Actually, anything with Clint Eastwood in it. Haven’t you seen the man?

His favorite musician? Ennio Morricone. Did you watch that scene in Inglourious Basterds, right before the Bear Jew comes out of the cave? That scene – and that composition – it’s reason enough to watch the movie. Aside from all the Nazis getting burned, of course.

His favorite food? Tteokbokki. But they have to be spicy enough to make your tongue fall off.

You smirked to yourself as you stood by the stove, slowly stirring the rice cakes in a black pan. He was talking movies all the time and that was a language you understood well.

In a minute you needed to add the spices and that disturbingly hot, red sauce. It was something you had cooked before, back in England. You had been scrolling aimlessly through one of your countless apps, which you normally used so you wouldn’t have to think and there you found some recipe that had been viral for a while. A Korean recipe with rice cakes in a sauce, topped with sesame and green onions. It had been quite the ordeal to find rice cakes back where you lived, but when you finally did and you tasted the recipe you had so carefully and lovingly prepared, you found it was worth it. It had actually been the first step into the life you were now living.

South-Korea, you had thought. Why not?

You poured the sauce in and wanted to try it, but decided against it in the end. You’d spend the next hour trying to soothe the pain in your mouth with bread and milk. With a soft sigh, you turned off the stove and served the food on two plates. You set the table with the gentle precision of a lovely homemaker. Even the napkins were folded prettily, giving the whole scene the last touch it needed to come off as…thoughtful.

Of course you never mentioned to him that you knew the dish. He had mostly likely thought it was just another Korean word he threw around and you’d forget immediately. And you had made no attempts to make him believe differently. So, when you began to cook this, it was with the intention to surprise him. A short glance at the clock showed you that it was almost ten in the evening, so he would most likely be home soon.

Home. What an odd thought.

You sighed again and washed your hands. A lecture you had to learn only once before in your life – spicy food didn’t quite match well with eyes.

You glanced around the kitchen once more, half-expecting him to be late. After he luckily gave you the books back, you asked yourself if you should go and read something, until he arrived, but that question answered itself, the moment you heard the door creak open. A nervous smile grew on your face and you nibbled on your lower lip. For some reason, a part of you was still afraid. A tiny bit, at least. It was like you expected him to punish you for good things. For being affectionate or caring.

But the moment you saw his head perk through the door, you knew you wouldn’t get punished tonight. Well, at least not, until you gave him a reason to…or asked him to.

His face lit up in surprised delight, his brows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Hello?” He murmured as he stepped closer and set the briefcase down on a chair. Your smile grew somewhat and you folded your hands behind your back.

“Hey.” You took a step closer and tilted your head to the side. “I made dinner.”

“I can see that.” He glanced at the lovely decorated kitchen table. You had put in quite some effort, looking through all the drawers until you found a tablecloth, lit some candles and then there was his favorite food. He looked from the table to you and smiled.

“And what exactly did I do to deserve this?” He raised a brow in suspicion. You returned the smile.

“I just felt like it.”

“So, you know Tteokbokki!”

You laughed quietly. “We’ll see about that. You should try it first.”

He hummed softly and stepped closer. You expected him to head for the sink and wash his hands, which he most definitely would, but before that, he stepped close to you, so close that you felt the warmth radiating off him and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek and then your lips.

You closed eyes and leaned into the kiss, immediately aching for more. But a second later he pulled his head back and smiled again.

“I just know I’m going to love it. Thank you.”

You felt yourself blush and so you averted your gaze. He finished up getting ready and then pulled out your chair for you, like the gentleman he was, or well, he could be.

The both of you settled down and you kept a keen eye on him to check his reaction, the second he brought the fork to his lips. You half-expected him to recoil in disgust, but instead, his brows furrowed and he hummed in approval.

“This is perfect.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Stop bullshitting me.”

“No, I mean it. It’s perfectly spicy, just the way I like it. And it’s homemade. Do you know how much that me-“ He stopped himself and cleared his throat. The filter. “I really love it. Thank you.” He squeezed your hand under the table.

You smiled again and leaned back in your chair, taking a moment to simply watch him eat.

When he saw you were staring at him, he cocked a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Now it’s you bullshitting me, huh?”

That made you laugh. God, how beautiful this was. Just simple, plain banter. Back and forth, like normal couples shared. You loved it.

You loved him.

When you laughed, a cocky grin grew on his face. “Mhm. I still have it in me, don’t I?”

You smirked. “Oh, shut up. For an old man.”

His grin widened and he picked up the fork, bringing it to your lips. Wordlessly, you parted them and took the food in your mouth. It was painful, of course, but you tried to keep a strong façade. And failed.

He laughed and held out a glass with milk to you, of which you took a big, grateful sip.

“Why are you making it, if you can’t even eat it?”

“You like it.”

He hummed softly. “And you remembered.”

“It’s not that hard. I collect the few things I know about you like postage stamps.”

He snorted. “Oh, so now we collect stamps, do we?”

You grinned cheekily and gently nudged his shoulder. “Eat your abnormal spicy food and shush.”

He shot you another smirk and eyed you up and down for a moment. It left you feeling oddly comfortable.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled before he took another bite. Your brows shot up and you titled your head to the side. You were better now, when it came to this. Compliments and accepting them. After all, he had no reason to lie to you whatsoever, now, did he?

“Thank you. But why are you saying that?” Not as good as you thought, but better.

He brows furrowed. “And why wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged and he shot you a long, suspicious look. “I’m not taking it back.”

That made you laugh again. He sounded like petulant child and you loved him even more when he was like this. Just…easy.

Easy to love.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He joined your laughter.

You smirked and took another sip of your milk. “If you can’t tell, it’s already too late.”

Days passed, weeks even, and life was still good. Very much so.

Every now and then you would ask yourself, when will things take a dark turn again? You couldn’t help yourself. These first few weeks were stuck in your mind like a nightmare you hardly remembered and yet felt in every inch of your body. Even when you didn’t...

Your body remembered.

He had that in him. That dark, that evil. It would undoubtedly come out again at some point. That’s why you always tried to remind yourself, not to dive too deep into what you called your perfect world. At some point, you’d surely be in pain again.

Though, you had to admit, you were hardly in pain nowadays. Your mysterious man was a gentle man, when he wanted to be and that happened more and more these days. Whenever he came home, he’d make a habit of kissing you and asking you about your day. His smile came out, more and more often. On very rare occasions, when you got really lucky, you even heard him laugh. And not the mock-kind of laugh he’d have so well-rehearsed in his repertoire of masks, he had for the world to see, but the real kind. A sound so unbridled and genuine, so warm and endearing, it made something inside of you ache. Why was it so rare?

Of course he still hurt you sometimes, but that was more of a consented kind of thing. In most cases.

Whenever he decided it was time for you to cockwarm him, for example. God, you hated, when he did. Because you loved it.

You loved the feeling of having him inside you on any occasion, really. Sometimes he’d be reading the newspaper and have you on his lap, his free hand on your hip to hold you perfectly still. You always asked yourself, how on earth did he manage to read like that, without even cocking an eye brow, while you were nearly fainting in agony, because all you wanted was for him to move?

On other nights, and you were ashamed to admit how much you enjoyed it, you’d even sleep like that. You’d lay either facing away or facing him, but often clenched around him. He’d nuzzle his face in your hair and after a while he’d usually drift off like that, his breathing slowly soothing down to a soft sound. Sometimes, when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, you felt him move and grind his hips against yours, giving you the friction you so desperately desired. Sometimes it happened quickly, sometimes it took a few hours and sometimes it didn’t happen at all. But when it did and when it did take hours to get to that point, you’d normally be half-asleep and yet desperate. The second you felt him move inside you, it was as though a switch got flipped. You became needy and…

Wicked.

For you, it didn’t matter how many times he fucked you. How many times he made you cum. When you felt him like that, you needed him. Ardently.

But in most cases you managed to be good for him, just like he asked you to. Good and perfectly still. When you did, you got rewarded. Which, in most cases, consisted of him going down on you and making you feel things with his tongue that made your toes curl and your breath stutter. He made you cum so good that you nearly forgot your own name.

At times, you did forget it. But odd enough, you didn’t really miss it. Names weren’t important. Not with him.

And then there were those other times. The times, when you got too needy, too desperate and, despite your better will, you found yourself moving against him, desperate for any kind of friction. That was when you got punished still.

Sometimes with a firm slap to get you back on track. That wasn’t enough to make you forget about your need for him though. Normally, you’d just fall back into the same pattern, given enough time. And after a while, he got more creative with his punishments. When he realized that pain was something that you were rather immune to, compared to other things, you were fucked.

Quite literally.

When you moved and disobeyed his orders not to…

He fucked you. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not at all, actually.

That was until…

You came. You came every time with him, which was something you had highly doubted, before you started this thing between you. But to your surprise, you were more than relaxed with him. And so you came.

But he didn’t stop there. No, it was a punishment after all, right?

So, he kept fucking into you, like a feral animal. Even after you came and the pleasure quickly shifted into overstimulation. You got so sensitive, it was close to painful. But he kept going.

And then, oh God, you’d come again. Of course you did. He was good at what he was doing. You came again, shuddering and gasping.

And he still wouldn’t stop.

Even when your body arched into the air and you tried to get away from him, all desperate, he’d continue fucking you, until your mind was a mess and all you could do was stutter and whimper, cry even.

It was one of his favorite ways to punish you.

When he didn’t keep you on edge or withdrew your release for the time being, he made you cum until you begged him to stop, sobbing and whimpering.

Oh, the crying turned him on, you could tell. Because it normally ended with him filling you up to the brim. And then he’d go back to sleep, wouldn’t he? With his length still buried deep inside to keep warm.

Let’s just hope you learned your lesson now, darling. I’d hate to punish you again.

He had done exactly that the night before and so you found yourself lying on the sofa, feeling sore and exhausted. When he came home that night, you were still passed out on the couch, too sleepy to even open your eyes. He regarded your broken frame with a warm, yet subtle smile and set his briefcase down. He took a few slow steps closer and watched over you for a long moment, before he reached for the nearby blanket and pulled it up to your shoulders. You weren’t really fast asleep, just somewhere in-between, so you felt his knuckles gently caress your cheek. You mumbled something in response and you heard the way he smiled, before he vanished to the bathroom and you heard the way the water got turned on.

After a while you slowly blinked your eyes open and yawned. When you saw the blanket, a smile crept onto your face and you hugged the material tightly to your body. Slowly and carefully, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, before you decided to try and cook something for a change. You got better and better at it, considering how little you knew about the Korean cuisine. Yet you had to admit, it seemed healthier than anything you had ever eaten back home.

When you couldn’t think of anything, you decided to be safe and went for Bibimbap. It was a mixture of near everything and also the fastest thing you could think of. But before you even started, you went back to your room to grab a claw clip for your hair. You swiftly did it up and made your way through the hallway, when you saw that the door to his bedroom stood open. You saw his white shirt splayed out on the bed and you just knew it smelled like him. You bit your lip as you slowly tiptoed inside and picked the shirt up, only to bury your face in the material and inhale softly.

If this wasn’t home, what would ever be?

You hummed softly to yourself, before you swiftly slid off your caramel colored skirt and your black tank top, to put his button down shirt on instead. The material hugged your body like a gentle hug and you smiled to yourself as you rolled the sleeves up in the way he would. Of course the shirt looked fairly huge on you. You took a long glance at the big mirror and smirked. It looked like a dress on you, albeit a short one. You twirled around like a ballerina and took in the way your thighs were barely covered by the material. That gave you a wicked idea.

Of course your body was begging you to leave it be, especially after last night, but the devil inside your mind forced you to keep the shirt on and make your way back to the kitchen.

In the meantime, he had finished his shower and now he sat on the couch, with the newspaper in his hand. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants (the damned bastard) and a black shirt. His hair was still damp and hung loosely into his face. He looked delicious.

When he heard you approach, he looked up, ready to greet you, when he hesitated. His gaze roamed up and down your body in a way that made you bite back a smirk.

“Hello, darling.” He murmured, without ever looking up at your face.

“Why, hello.” You purred cheerfully and approached him with slow, tiptoed steps. His gaze wandered up your legs and torso, until he finally met your gaze.

“You look…”

“I thought it suits me better than you.” You teased.

His lips curved up into a slow smile. “I can’t disagree.” He took your hand, ready to pull you onto his lap. But after last night, you felt in dire need to take some action and control.

Not, that you didn’t somehow enjoy it. But still.

You briefly squeezed his hand, before you pulled yours away. You gave him a quick peck on the lips, then took a step back.

“I’ll go cook.”

His brows shot up. “I can-“

“No.”

You hid your smirk, until you had your back facing him. With quick, measured steps, you disappeared into the kitchen, all the while pretending not to hear his frustrated groan.

The next few minutes went by rather quickly. You did a great job cooking up some ingredients and even an egg, Sunny Side Up. You quickly set the table and eventually left some rice on the stove, to slowly simmer. With a soft, exaggerated sigh you made your way back to the living room.

“It’s almost done.” You murmured as you slowly approached him. When you looked at him, you deliberately missed his face and his expression became more and more dour.

“Good. I was thinking-“

“I nearly finished my book.” You interrupted him in a sweet voice, as you sat down on his lap, causing him to freeze for a moment. It only took him a second to relax, though he seemed to have forgotten that you had interrupted him and what he even intended to say in the first place.

“That’s…good.” He murmured.

“Just two more pages. I’ll finish it quickly, before dinner, okay?”

He cocked a brow and shrugged slowly. “Sure. Suit yourself.”

His shirt rode up your thighs and revealed more and more of your skin to his gaze. He didn’t even try to be secretive about it, he was straight-up ogling you. All the while you buried your nose in your book, without reading a single word. You had to save up all your energy as not to smile.

His fingertips brushed over the skin of your thigh and you did your best to keep your expression neutral. And he, he was just…

“Are you-“

“Oh God, I didn’t see that twist coming.” You closed the book and sighed. Then you shot him an innocent look and smiled. “That was a really good book.”

You leaned back against his chest and kept up your innocent façade, all the while the look in his eyes equaled that of a bear with his fish.

“You really-“

“I’d better go and get myself another one. I’m sure the rice needs a few more minutes.”

His hand ended up in the middle of the air, while you practically jumped off of his lap. He let out a soft grunt of frustration, while you slowly swayed your way back to the bookshelf. Of course your hips swayed along and obviously his gaze did the same.

You held a finger against your lips, pretending to think, while you slowly went about the rows and rows of books. And then, what a coincidence, a book in the last row caught your attention. You smiled and bent down, pretending to read.

At the same time, his patience snapped. When his shirt rode up further, exposing just a hint of your rear to him, he let out a low growl.

“That’s enough.” He hissed. You smirked, before you slowly turned and replaced the smirk with innocent surprise.

“What? What’s enough?”

“Oh, stop this.” He slammed the newspaper down on the coffee table and stood up in a swift movement. “Stop acting all innocent. You’ve been parading around here, half-naked and ready to…”

“To what?” You murmured and tilted your head to the side in feigned curiosity. He growled again and ran a hand over his chin. Only then did you see the obvious tent in his grey sweatpants. It cost you half your life not to look down there and trust your peripheral view.

“Don’t play dumb.” He murmured. “Get over here. Now.”

You licked your lips. “But the rice-“

“Now!”

That made you laugh and there went your innocent act out of the window.

“You minx! You’re doing this on purpose!”

You chuckled. “Well…”

The look on his face was near rabid. Only the foam was missing.

“I’ll forgive you this once, if you’ll be a good girl for me and get your ass over here.”

You smirked and took a step back, circling the sofa. “And if I don’t?

He hissed in response. “You don’t want to test me today.”

And for some inexplicable reason, right then and there, you weren’t scared. That tiny part of your brain that had continued to keep up the fear, albeit briefly and barely, was completely silent. And you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you, no matter what you did.

“Make me then.”

His eyes widened and he tilted his chin up. “Oh, that’s a mistake.”

You grinned. “Oh, that’s a mistake.” You mocked his voice.

With a movement so quick that it almost made you wince, he jumped over the back of the couch and stood before you, eyeing you like a predator. You let out a soft shriek and turned on your heel, running and laughing, without looking over your shoulder.

It took him only a second to put his hand on your shoulder, but it took you only a second to shrug him off and circle the coffee table.

“That all you got, old man?”

You could have sworn you saw his lip twitch, but that would have been too easy. He tried hard to keep his expression serious.

“Grew a backbone, did you?”

You raised a brow and smirked. “Oh, boo-hoo. Did I hurt you, oppa?” You hinted a mocking curtsy.

“Oh, you just wait!” He rushed to catch you from one side, but you quickly ran the other way. When he tried the other way, you went the other way, yet again. He gave a frustrated growl.

“What now, hm?” You smirked. “Giving up already?”

He gave you a long, wild look. For a moment you almost thought he was indeed giving up, but then he rushed forward and kicked the table out of the way. It rolled over and crashed against the wall loudly. Your eyes widened in surprise and you took a step back, but before you knew it, your back was already pressed against the wall and you had to tilt your head back to stare up at him.

“You caught me.” You whispered.

He clenched his jaw and reached out a hand. You were sure. You were still sure, that you were safe.

And then…

His hand slowly tangled in your hair and gently grasped the back of your neck. He leaned down so that your lips nearly met.

“I caught you.” He whispered back, before he captured your lips in a bruising kiss.

And you let the rice burn.

A few days later, you couldn’t even tell which day it was, because every day was but a collection of memories you kept replaying in your head, he was off to work.

And to no one’s great surprise, you missed him.

Every waking moment without him was empty. The emptiness was so intense, it left you nearly suffocating. All the while, all you could do was wait. Wait and eat. Wait and sleep. Wait and read.

Sometimes, you wrote. You remembered that one time you told him about your greatest dream.

To become an author one day. You didn’t even care, if anyone knew your real name, you just wanted to touch people with your words. Like the Bronte-sisters.

Ellis Bell, huh? And who would you be?

Hana, maybe. The thought made you equally as sad as it filled you with hope.

But that was about all you did. And after hours and hours, the day neared its end. Eventually it was far past eleven, so you were sure he would be late tonight. Of course you were concerned. As you always were. You had no idea what his job was, but you could tell it was dangerous.

The man in his clean suit and a briefcase full of secrets.

When it got closer to midnight and he still wasn’t back, you decided to distract yourself, by getting yourself ready. You changed into a beautiful, white negligee with a neckline made of pretty, see-through lace. You loved it. The silk made you feel like you were the most beautiful girl on earth. And you were sure, once he saw you in it, he would totally destroy it. Chew it off or tear it down, whatever worked faster.

You did your hair down (it was slowly growing back and you barely thought back to the dreadful day that he cut it) and took a last glance at your appearance in the mirror. You smiled at yourself, something you rarely did, and eventually made your way back to his bedroom to surprise him. On his bed, wearing nothing but the negligee and a pair of…

Where were the handcuffs? You frowned as you glanced around and didn’t immediately find them. You bent down to look under the bed, but still no cuffs in sight. Your frown deepened and you gave another quick onceover, before you decided that they most likely were in the wardrobe.

You opened it and knelt down, finding the knife and several guns in the process. The small shudder brought you back to reality and you exhaled softly, before you sat back and looked at the countless weapons. Had he ever killed someone with them? Most likely.

But for a strange, inexplicable reason, you didn’t really care. Not really. Because it wasn’t real. Not then, not there, not in that moment. What was real, was him and his…

Desires.

You opened your mouth and closed it, before your fingers slowly closed around a small handgun. You swallowed thickly and carefully held it up, only to realize it was far heavier than you always assumed. The material felt cold and wrong in your hand.

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the day he pressed one of them against your temple or…his. You closed your eyes. The thought of him…

Him…

With a shuddery gasp, the gun slipped through your fingers and landed on the carpet.

There was no thought more painful than that one. You couldn’t lose him. Not ever.

You loved him. And you loved him far too much.

Enough, to be what he wanted.

Enough, to give in to his desires.

You took another deep breath and picked up the gun again, determined to take it back to bed with you. You wanted to surprise him, right?

All you had to do beforehand was to make sure that it wasn’t loaded.

A frown formed on your face, when you realized you didn’t even know how to do that. The thought of accidentally shooting yourself, while waiting for him to come home…It didn’t sound all too appealing, though it did sound like something that could happen to you.

You sighed and already gave up the thought of ever finding the cuffs, when you caught sight of something else instead. It was far in the back of the wardrobe and you were sure, for some reason, you weren’t supposed to see it.

Of course you weren’t supposed to touch his gun, either, but you felt he would forgive you, once he realized you were slowly submitting to his every desire.

Even if it meant him fucking you, while he held a gun to your head. In your mouth…Or, God help you, somewhere else.

You were twisted. You were sure you were. Because you felt it. You felt how the thought did things to you.

But for now you tried to push the thought aside and instead glanced back at the box.

Then again, what terrible thing could be inside there?

Someone’s teeth maybe?

Your soft smile disappeared the second you realized it was possible. You nearly recoiled in disgust. But then you realized, you had to know.

It couldn’t be teeth. It was too sick. Too deranged.

Too…him?

No. No, no, no.

As if in a trance, you picked up the light, wooden box and took off the lid.

No teeth inside. Only…

Fuck.

What was in there was so much worse than teeth.

Your forehead creased into a small frown, which grew further with every second.

And suddenly you felt nauseous.

No.

Oh, no.

You nearly dropped the box and backed away like you’d been struck, the moment you heard it.

“Goddamn it." He sighed impatiently and the door slowly closed behind him. "You weren’t supposed to see that.”

___________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Did I lately mention that I love you, guys?

Ps. The Tteokbokki and the teasing were anon requests! I loved them and I hope I did them justice!

495 notes · View notes

cimmanonrowl · 2 days ago

Text

Focus

It’s hard to please Daddy when it’s finals season and everything feels overwhelming. There were stack of books everywhere, unwashed mugs of coffee piling on your study table, and there seemed to be not enough time to revise for every course. And when Aaron finally had enough of your attitude, he decided to take the matter into his own hands.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x student!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Content: mention of starvation & hair pulling, academic pressure, huge age gap, consenting adults, edging, cockwarming, unprotected sex, daddy kink, ddlg dynamic, soft daddy dom!aaron, bratty!reader, powerplay: older man x younger woman relationship.

Note: Read the content warnings and proceed with your own discretion. If it's not your cup of tea, scroll up and have a good day.

The door clicked softly as Aaron stepped into your shared apartment.

The weight of his busy day still clung heavily to his shoulders. It had been one of those days in the office—long hours of reviewing reports, draining meetings with the board; the kind that gnawed at your patience until you only had so little left to give. Some days, he’d prefer to be out on the field so he can freely stretch and move his body. Most days, he doesn’t— simply because he doesn’t want to be away from you.

He kicked off his shoes, heaving a deep sigh of exhaustion as he did so. The usual sense of relief for being home hadn’t yet settled in as he glanced around the dimly lit space, his thick eyebrows pinched together in a confused frown.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

“Honey? I’m home,” he called out, his voice bouncing off the walls of the small apartment.

Worry trickled down his spine with the unusual sight. He had hoped to come home to something different— a warm meal, maybe, with the sound of your favourite songs blasting in the background. Or better yet, you wrapped in his favourite lingerie; the one that barely covers your pussy and clings to your body in a godly sight, kneeling on the living room floor with a sweet smile, ready to take his cock deep down your throat until he was shaking and begging to finally take your tight cunt.

Just anything– anything to signal that you had taken a break, that you weren’t still buried under the mountain of stress he’d seen building in your eyes over the past few days.

But the apartment was as silent as it had been when he left that morning.

Aaron’s brow furrowed as he made his way down the hallway, the muted light from your own study spilling out into the corridor. He had an idea, a feeling more like, as to what might greet him as soon as he sees you.

Goddamn, this girl.

The door creaked quietly as he pushed it open. And he felt his heart sink as he found you exactly where he had left you that morning— hunched over your desk, the same thick textbook open in front of you, surrounded by the same clutter of mess. The only difference was the growing pile of empty coffee cups at your side.

Had you even moved all day?

“Honey…” he tried again, softer this time, as he leaned against the door frame.

You didn’t respond. Your eyes were locked on the page in front of you, and he could see from the tension in your shoulders that you were anything but focused.

Aaron’s gaze traveled over your form, noticing the same clothes you’d worn earlier, and the half-eaten sandwich he had left on the corner of your desk that morning. His chest tightened, concern quickly overshadowing the fatigue he had brought home with him. He could make out the tension looming over your crouched figure.

“Honey…” his voice came out a whisper, curiously watching you as you murmured the words you were reading in your textbook, memorizing every word earnestly.

Aaron stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the way your hand was gripping your hair, pulling the strands tangled tightly around your fingers. You didn’t even seem to realize you were doing it— too caught up in your own world to understand what you were doing.

“Hey!”

You jumped, your hand releasing your hair so suddenly that you winced as a few strands were pulled free.

“Aaron! Y-you scared me!” your eyes finally lifted to meet his, wide and startled, as if you were seeing him for the first time that day.

He crossed the room in quick strides, worry etched into his features as he reached out to pull your hand gently away from your head. His thumb brushed over the raw area where your hair had been yanked, and he felt a pang of guilt for not noticing sooner.

“Darling, you’re doing it again,” he said quietly, his voice tight with concern. “I thought we talked about this.”

You blinked slowly. “I—I’m sorry. Yeah. I didn’t notice. I didn’t mean to.”

“You’ve been here all day, haven’t you?” he scanned his eyes over the desk for any sign that you had taken a break, had eaten something, anything. The half-eaten sandwich was evidence enough that you hadn’t.

“I was just trying to finish this stupid chapter,” you mumbled, your voice small, almost ashamed. “I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I’ll eat after, I promise.”

Aaron sighed heavily. “You didn’t eat. You didn’t move. You’ve been sitting here, pulling your hair out over these stupid finals all day, and you didn’t even notice?”

Blood rushed through your warm cheeks. And you felt the sudden urge to yell at his face.

Stupid finals?

Stupid?

You looked down at your hands, irritation slowly flooding in as his words sank in. He wasn’t wrong— you’d been so consumed by the pressure to finish everything as quickly and efficiently as you could, to get everything right, that you had lost track of everything else. But stupid… really? What you were doing was far from that word. How insensitive could he be?

You bit your lower lip, trying to control your rising temper.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a heavy heart, feeling the weight of his words like a stone in your chest. “I just wanted to do well. I didn’t mean to…”

Aaron’s expression softened at your words. He’s as frustrated as you were yet he’s concerned more than anything else. He crouched beside you before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sighing softly as his warm gaze lingered over your face.

You look tired, he noticed.

“Baby…” his voice was soft it almost made you tear up. “I know you’re stressed, but this isn’t healthy. You know that, right? You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

You nodded slowly. “I know. I just… I don’t want to mess up. I want to make you proud, Daddy...”

“Oh, sweet girl. You already do,” he took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “But you’re more important than your grades. Daddy needs you to take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he added, gently rubbing the spot where your hair had been pulled.

“But… I don’t want to slack off...”

Your pout deepened as Aaron frowned down at you.

“You’re the most hard working girl I know in this world, baby,” he said seriously. “What I need you to do is promise me that you’ll take breaks, eat on time, and stop… this…”

Whatever this is, you knew what he wanted to say.

“But—”

“Are you talking back to me?”

Hesitation clung to you with the sudden drop of his voice. The promise felt heavy on your tongue. There’s still a lot to do, deadlines to beat, too much reading to finish, papers to write and revise. You know with the current state of events, you can’t carelessly promise anything to him, but the way Aaron’s eyes squinted at your defiance was enough to make you nod quickly.

“S-sorry, Daddy. I promise.”

Aaron searched your face for a moment longer, then finally relaxed, though the worry didn’t entirely leave his eyes.

“Good. Because if I come home tomorrow and find you in the same spot, I’ll drag you out of here myself and punish you, baby. And no more coffee after 5 p.m.,” he added, eyeing the empty cups with disdain and disapproval.

You managed a small smile, the first genuine lightness you’d felt all day, and nodded again. “Yes, Daddy. No more coffee.”

“There’s my good girl.” Heat dusted over your cheeks as you giggled at his praise, and this time there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. “Now, enough of that, come on. We’re ordering takeout, and you’re taking a break. No arguments.”

Panic settled on your heavy bones.

“Huh- what–” you stammered, peering over your books and the half-finished paper on your laptop. “Daddy, I nee– just one more chapter, please. I need– just another paragpra–”

The stern look he gave you made you stop. He didn’t have to say anything. Just seeing the scowl on his face; his thick eyebrows tugged together, his eyes narrowing in silent warning, was enough to put you back in place.

You pursed your lips immediately, and finally let him lead you out of the study, the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease just a little.

That night, Aaron let you use his cock for relief. He’s always been true to his words. He ordered a take out from your favourite Chinese restaurant down the block, ran a bubble bath and joined you shortly to wash your body, massaged your scalp and shoulder, showered you with praises for being his good girl, for being hardworking and smart, and for being the prettiest girl in the world. Then you let Daddy fuck your wet, needy cunt with his thick fingers until you came and writhed against his soft touches.

It was almost midnight when you heard your neighbor pound angrily on the thin wall separating your apartments, screaming in frustration to tone down your fucking. Which you only giggled. Daddy gave you permission to ride his big, fat cock the way you like it. And you did. But it was only after he lapped and ate your pussy like a starved man that he made you cum twice on his tongue, until your legs were spasming uncontrollably from the blinding pleasure.

The next few days were just as rough.

It was an underestimation on some angle, but nothing but the truth as a whole. You and Aaron were arguing nonstop. He was scolding you too much. You cry nearly every night. But he never stopped breathing down your neck: reminding you to take a break, eat the food he ordered for you from his office, drink your vitamins, don’t drink any more coffee, eat the fruits he bought instead of potato chips, rest your eyes, take a bath, take a walk, threatening to punish you if you don’t.

“Are you seriously fucking kidding me?” His voice was flat, his weariness laced with something sharper, though you couldn’t tell if it was frustration or concern. Maybe both. Or maybe he’s seriously just pissed off.

Slowly, with brows pulled in a tight frown, you glanced over your shoulder.

You didn’t hear Aaron walk down the hall, didn’t hear the way his pace slowed just outside the door, or how he lingered there for a moment, leaning against the frame to watch you in annoyance. His frustrated sigh filled the room, deep and full of exhaustion, but that you heard.

Your hand went limp, your fingers still tangled in your hair as you stared back innocently at him.

Aaron stood there, quietly observing you from your seat, still in his work clothes— his tie loosened, shirt untucked from where he’d probably tugged at it during his long day. His expression, however, was fully focused on you, and the hint of gentle smile he usually carried whenever he comes home to you was absent, replaced by a frown etched deep in his rugged features.

“What, Daddy?” you asked in a small voice, as though you hadn’t been doing anything wrong.

You felt the pull of your own hand still gripping your hair. Slowly, you released it, lowering your hand to your lap.

Aaron let out a sigh, running a hand through his own tousled hair before crossing the room to you. “It’s almost eleven,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm.

“Have you been sitting here all day?”

What?

You blinked, looking around for a clock to confirm what he was saying. You barely remember anything that happened. All you can recall was being kissed on your forehead before he head out to work, reminding you to eat the breakfast he prepared for you, and to keep your promise. But now the light outside had faded into complete darkness, the street lights illuminating the crossroads outside, streaks of moonlight painting the night sky.

Almost like an afterthought, your stomach growled faintly. You suddenly realized you hadn’t eaten since… that morning…

Maybe.

“I… I guess so,” you murmured, as if admitting it out loud will make everything worse.

He crossed his arms, thick muscles bulging against the tight fabric of his dress shirt.

“You guess so? Try again, little girl.”

“I—” You wandered your eyes over the pile of untouched notes, the cold cup of coffee still sitting on your desk, and the empty plate from a hastily eaten sandwich. “I… I didn’t, sorry. I didn’t notice the time.”

Your mind was wrapped too tightly around the fact that you still have one more essay to finish before the due date. It was a frustrating day. You caught yourself a lot of times staring mindlessly at the words printed on your book, though they blurred and danced right before your eyes. You stared at the same paragraph for… how long each? Minutes? Hours? You weren’t even sure anymore.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed as he crouched down next to your chair, his gaze level with yours now.

“I told you to eat proper meals, didn’t I?” He pointed out, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed under your eye, and you realized how dry and tired your skin felt. “And you still haven’t eaten, have you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head slightly. “I wasn’t hungry, Daddy. I just wanted to get through this part—”

“No,” Aaron cut you off, shaking his head as he firmly gripped your shoulders, turning your chair so you faced him fully. “No. Enough of this now, little girl. You’ve been doing this to yourself all week. Staying up too late and skipping meals. This is not good for you.”

Your eyes started to burn—not from exhaustion this time, but from something heavier, something you’d been holding in for days now.

“You don’t understand, Daddy. This is important to me!”

The stress, the pressure, the sense of being completely overwhelmed. You felt like you were sinking, and somehow, it all spilled over the moment Aaron looked at you with those tired, worried eyes.

“I just…” Your voice broke, and you looked away, blinking rapidly. “I have to do well, Daddy. I can’t mess this up. I have one semester left until graduation. I can’t– I have to do well.”

Aaron’s expression softened as he listened, and his hands moved to cradle your face, gently turning you back to meet his gaze. “Baby, Daddy knows how important this is to you,” his voice was calm and steady. “But you can’t do well if you’re running yourself into the ground. You’re hurting yourself, and you don’t even realize it. I’m not doing this to sabotage you, honey.”

His thumb brushed over the spot on your scalp where your hair was still tender from your unconscious pulling, and you winced slightly.

“Sorry—” you apologized quickly. “I don’t realize I’m doing it, daddy. I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed at that, and he lowered his hands, his worry etched into every line of his face. “Just promise me you’ll stop,” he whispered, as if the words themselves could break you. “Or else I’m putting mittens on these little hands of yours.”

You nodded quickly, stifling a giggle. “I promise, daddy. I didn’t even realize I was doing it—”

“I know,” Aaron cut you off gently before you could finish. He stood up then, his hand dropping to yours, tugging you softly up to your feet. “C’mon. You’re done for the night.”

“But—” You glanced back at your desk, at the still-open textbooks, the unread chapters waiting for you. “I’m not done. I have so much left—”

“What do you still need to do?” He asked, following your gaze on your table.

“I’m halfway through this paper and I still have to revise them. Then…” your lower lip prodded a little as you stared up at him. “I need to review for my deptals. I just finished making flashcards on my iPad, Daddy, but I haven’t checked them yet…”

“Then we’ll do that tonight,” he said as he steered you out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen. “First, you need to eat. And then, we’re going to bed.”

“Daddy, I just said I need to revie—”

“Yes, yes, you will, honey.” He squeezed your hand gently as he led you to the kitchen table. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? You’ve got Daddy. I’ll help you tonight. So be a good girl for me and eat first.”

You sat down heavily in the chair as Aaron started pulling out some leftovers from the fridge, reheating them with quick, efficient movements. He didn’t ask you to explain yourself or demand an apology. He just moved around the kitchen with an ease that came from his conscious effort to know you— knowing when to push, and when to just be there quietly.

When he placed the food in front of you, you hesitated for a moment before picking up the fork.

“Daddy…”

He hummed. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled between bites. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Aaron pulled up a chair beside you, leaning forward on his elbows as he watched you eat; a small, tired smile playing on his lips. “I know you didn’t, little one. But you did. And I’d rather see you take care of yourself than get another A.”

“You’re just saying that, Daddy. You said I’ll always get a reward if I do well in school. You were bribing me.”

“Maybe…” he grinned, the tiredness in his eyes easing a bit. “But I still mean it.”

As you continued eating, Aaron reached across the table, brushing his fingers against your hand again. “Remember your promise?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll try harder not to do it anymore.”

“Good girl,” he leaned back on his chair with a relieved sigh. “Now, finish your meal. What would you say if Daddy help you study?”

You smiled wider at that, nodding your head quickly. “I’d like that, Daddy.”

“What if you sit on Daddy’s big cock while I ask you your reviewer questions? Would my little girl like that?”

Heat pooled in between your legs as you listened to the vulgarity of his words. He gave you a small smile, reaching his hand to your face before gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.

“S-sounds good, Daddy,” you said weakly, blushing as you crossed your legs under the table. “D-do I get to come?”

“If you answer the questions correctly, yes you will,” he said lowly, lightly caressing your exposed neck with his thumb.

A low whimper rumbled on your throat.

“But wha– what if I don’t, daddy?”

“Then we’ll just have to see, don’t we, little girl?”

Aaron laid on his back, looking so comfortable and snug as ever, with the soft glow of your iPad casting a faint light in the dimly lit bedroom. The night shirt he previously worn was already discarded on the floor, completely unforgotten. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he scrolled through the flashcards you’d painstakingly made for your departamental exams, his fingers gently swiping the screen.

“Alright, honey,” Aaron said, his voice low and focused. “Define ‘morphological productivity’ for me.”

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to pull the answer from the jumble of concepts crammed into your brain. A low whine escaped your lips under the intensity of his gaze; exactly just as you felt his thick cock twitch against your walls.

“Daddy… f-feels so good…” you shook your head weakly as the pad of Aaron’s calloused palm traveled your bare thighs.

“I know, honey. But I need you to be a good girl and focus right now.”

Your heart raced, though it wasn’t just from the pressure of not knowing the answer to his question. His presence—so close, so steady—and the familiar heady smell of his bodywash was making it harder to focus. The warmth of his body underneath you, his big cock inside your wet cunt, the way his voice dropped whenever he asked a question, all of it felt heavier, more instense than usual.

“Morphological productivity…” Your mind raced to remember the specifics. “It’s when the… morphology is productive—oh fuck!”

Aaron barked a hearty laughter, sending shivers down your spine with every twitch of his cock inside your hole.

“Just joking, Daddy…” You pouted adorably, slowly grinding your hips to feel more of his girth. “It’s… it’s… t-the guide that control how words are formed and structured in a l-language, r-right?”

“Hmm. I don’t know, baby. Can you give me an example?”

“One e-example is affix… affixation…” You moaned softly, stopping your hips from grinding back and forth as Aaron gripped your thigh in a silent warning. “Sorry, Daddy. F-for instance, you can add ‘-ness’ to the root word ‘happy’ to make ‘happiness’ and it still makes sense.”

Aaron gave a small nod, his lips curving slightly in approval, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Close enough,” he said, his voice steady.

His eyes flicked toward your bare chest before returning to the iPad, and you felt wetness pooling in between your legs intensify.

“Next, baby,” he said, swiping to the next card. “What’s the difference between a free morpheme and a bound morpheme?”

You shifted slightly, pressing both your palm on his stomach, trying to stifle a moan.

“A free morpheme can stand alone as a word,” your voice came out a little softer, distracted by the way his fingers moved so casually across your thighs. “Like ‘book’ or ‘run.’ A bound morpheme can’t… it… it h-has to be attached to something else, like pre… oh, Daddy… pre…fixes or s-suffixes. Like ‘-s’ or ‘-ing.’”

Aaron’s eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His gaze was heavy, like he was weighing more than just your answer, and the quiet that followed hung between you, thick. You could feel the heat of his body underneath you, and his pulsating cock inside.

“C-correct,” he murmured, but his voice had dipped lower.

His fingers lingered over the screen, not moving to the next flashcard right away. The air between you seemed to hum, each small movement or breath amplified in the quiet room.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. The weight of his gaze was now making it difficult to focus on anything but the heat of your skin together. Studying had always been stressful, but this… this was different. His serious, deliberate tone, the way he was so focused, so intent on helping you, made it all the more difficult to not cave in to your crushing desire.

“Now, this one should be easy. What is a washback?” he asked, his voice still low, though his eyes hadn’t left yours.

You hesitated, distracted by the way his lips formed each word. “It’s also… uh I think it’s also called the washback effect. It is the influence of an assessment on teaching and learning. It can be both beneficial or harmful, and is a common phenomenon in institutional learning.”

“Mm-hm,” Aaron hummed in approval, his eyes darkening slightly as he nodded. “Good girl.”

He didn’t move to the next flashcard right away. Instead, his hand shifted slightly inches slightly to your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles. It was such a subtle motion, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Daddy… please…” You bit your lip, trying to refocus. “Are you… Are you going to ask me the next one?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying your growing distraction.

Aaron’s gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest second before he looked back at the iPad, though the movement wasn’t lost on you. He cleared his throat, as if remembering the task at hand, and swiped to the next card, though his thumb lingered on the screen a little longer than necessary.

“Define… vowel harmony,” he said, his voice slower this time, before gently bucking his hip like his simply adjusting his position.

You whined loudly, the tip of his cock hitting the special spot inside, your mind scrambling to pull the answer from the depths of your memory.

“It’s… uh… Daddy… stop m-moving…” You swallowed, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s when… when… vowels within a word need to m-match in some way. Just… just l-like in certain languages, all the vowels in a word have to be either front or back vowels.”

Aaron nodded, his lips curving just slightly in a faint, knowing smile. “Very good.”

His hand shifted again, this time closer, brushing down your inner thigh, right where your bodies meet. The heat from his touch seeped through every fiber of your being, flooding your senses with heat and desire. And lust. Overflowing heat and lust.

Your breathing quickened, your mind no longer on linguistic theories or exam questions.

“Do you want to keep going?” Aaron asked, though his voice had lost the strict, studious edge it had earlier. His hand still rested on your inner thigh, his fingers ghosting against your throbbing clit, as if waiting for your answer to decide where they might go next.

“D-daddy…” you said in a whisper, slowly grinding your hips again. “N-need you… plea…please… daddy…”

Aaron didn’t move for a moment. He kept watching your desperate movements with that same heavy gaze, his fingers slowly teasing their way to your needy cunt, sending another shiver through your body.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he set the iPad aside, his hand resting fully on your hip now.

“My little girl’s been studying hard…” his voice was low and rough, the pad of his big, calloused hands against your skin. “And you’ve got all these answers down.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body instinctively leaning into his touch. The anticipation was almost suffocating in the best way, choking you. He started to rock his hip slowly, the trail of hair from his cock grinding against your clit in a heady way.

“F-fuck…” your voice trembled as you impatiently increased your pace. “Y-yes, D-daddy… please...”

He sat up to lean towards you, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “Baby, you’ve earned a break,” the words filled with a promise that made your pulse quicken. “I’ll fuck you nice and good, hmm?”

As Aaron’s lips brushed ever so lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck, your world crumbled and you couldn’t focus on anything else.

His lips trailed down your exposed neck, his nose pressed against your skin, taking in your scent as he left a soft trail of light kisses. A heavy sigh escaped your lips when you felt his hands tighten around your waist, guiding you in back-and-forth motion. The way his big and girthy cock was stretching your leaking cunt was intoxicating. You whimpered in embarrassment, hiding your flushed cheeks at the crook of his neck as you felt the tip of his cock deep into your belly.

“D-daddy… can you move, please?” you whispered in a weak voice.

“You want Daddy’s cum inside you, sweet girl?”

You nodded, feeling Aaron move gently to fix his position. “I d-do, Daddy… s-so much… please...”

“Then you’ll get it, princess.”

With a yelp, Aaron’s girthy cock rammed in and out of your waiting cunt. The shrill sound that escaped your lips made Aaron smirk in satisfaction. This is where you belong; in his arms, perched on his lap with your warm, velvety walls wrapped tightly on his cock, his name leaving your lips like a desperate prayer.

Deep grunts and small whimpers tangled in the air like harmony. Your voice was raw, and your throat dries as he assaulted your greedy, little cunt with deep thrusts. His breathing was ragged and heavy.

“Da…Daddy…” Your fingers tightened on his hair, pulling a little with every plop of your sweaty skin. “C-close, ‘m close… Daddy…”

Aaron let out an amused laugh. “No, not yet. Wait a l-little more, you can do that f-for Daddy, princess?”

You whined.

“N-no… I-I want… Daddy… come, p-please… Want to c-come…”

A sharp slap on the side of your thigh stilled you.

“Who fucking own you, little girl?”

“Y-you... Daddy…”

“And who fucking own this greedy cunt, huh? Who get to say when you’re allowed to fucking come?”

A particular thrust set your nerves on fire. “Y-you, Daddy! Only y-you… fuck… that feels g-good! There- t-there! R-right there! H-harder, Daddy! Fuck– f-fuck me!”

“There’s my good girl.”

You felt the familiar coil twisting in your belly. The squelching sound of your wet hole being pounded hard and fast was dirty and somehow humiliating. He kept hammering his hips into you, the tip of his throbbing cock nudging the most sensitive spots deep inside your body. Parts you never knew existed until you met Aaron. He has always loved you hard and always fucked you even harder. Like you’re nothing but a fleshlight. A toy. A fuckdoll he could use just the way he wants it.

“Y-yes! Yes! D-daddy! Right-r-right there! F-fuck!” Your release inched closer, roused by his pained grunts and heavy breathing. “Please! P-please! Please, Daddy! Come in-inside me! Breed m-me… please! I’m a g-good girl, r-right? Fuck m-me full of c-cum, please! W-want it s-so bad— want y-you so bad!”

“Come, princess. Go on. Let go.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like an avalanche. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head. Aaron’s loud grunt and your whiny moan pierced the silence of the night, his fat cock spurting ropes and ropes of warm cum into your waiting womb. Shivers ran down your spine, your bones weak, legs trembling.

“That’s it... good girl... my sweet girl...” Aaron murmured against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “Just take it, princess. Daddy loves you.”

A loud pounding on the wall startled your calming heart. It even made Aaron jump a little. Seconds ticked in and the familiar voice of your angry neighbor echoed inside your sweaty, sex-filled room.

“Stop fucking in the middle of the night, for fuck’s sake! Some people have fucking exams tomorrow unlike you fucking horny crackheads! Fuck!”

You could only giggle in exhaustion.

Guess who’s back, bitches! (affectionately) Please give me some love and appreciation in the form of your thoughts or reactions. Also, don’t forget to drink your water and keep slaying, babes!

Tag list: @downbad4reid ,@roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @zaddyhotch, @fandom-garbage, @obsessed-oops, @ujws5, @babybluelrh98, @anime-lover-forever-1127, @hazel-babbit, @3amcloudss, @seraphinlover

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x you #daddy!aaron

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lockandkeyblade · 1 day ago

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Yanno what I don't even go to Batman but we're gonna give this a roll. ----------------------------------------------- If you'd asked him back when the idea first came to mind, Danny would politely attest that staking out the Batcave for a meme probably doesn't even rank in the top five stupidest things he's ever done. Number one will always remain stepping into a defunct machine and blindly feeling up the walls.

Number two has a habit of changing, depending on whatever the most recent comment to leave his mouth without thinking is. Letting his mouth vomit out the unthinkable has a bad habit of launching Sam and Tucker at each other's throats, or someone half as scary at him. Three to five also alternate, from Pariah Dark, to the events that would've lead him straight to Dan, to accepting his Kingly duties, whenever those reared their ugly heads.

Of course, that's when the idea first comes to mind.

By the time Phantom actually finds the Batcave, it's at least in the top ten. Because the Batcave can't be hidden beneath an abandoned building, or a Fortune 500 office. No. It just so happens to be smack bang in the middle of a series of complex (and partially man made) tunnels beneath the Wayne Estate, New Jersey. And if that doesn't clue him into potentially knowing the identity of one of the most terrifying superheroes of all time, then his brain was officially dead.

Just like the other 50% of him will be, if it ever crosses Batman's mind that a seemingly meta vigilante from buttfuck nowhere Minnesota likely knows his civilian identity. Which is almost, almost enough to scare him off the mission entirely.

Except he has to do it. He has to. For the Vine.

Forget that Vine is a long lost art. Forget that TikTok is an endless pit of nightmarish content that even Technus seemed reluctant to go near. His follower count may be at a measly 103, but they're his followers. They deserve this.

So an idea spawned after nearly two days without sleep and far too many shots of espresso sprawls into a several week long covert operation... after he finds the Batcave.

Because the cave should be renamed Bathive, with all the activity constantly going on in it. If it's not Batman, it's Robin. Or Nightwing. Red Robin. BlackBat.

And just the once, Red Hood, who stopped and stared at the space where Phantom was hovering near the ceiling with a green reflectiveness in his eyes that had the ghost-teen waving his hands in front of his own face, just to ensure he was still invisible. There'd been something off in that reaction, something uncomfortably familiar.

If he hadn't already been certain that the Bats all had a little exposure to the Infinite Realms, that still would have confirmed it. Not that it matters.

What matters is the lack of opportunity to do what no halfa has done before. No matter when he staked it out, day and night, there was always someone there. Once the initial rush of being in the BATCAVE had worn off, the entire exercise became a little dull, Danny had to admit. Especially when he was doing his utmost not to listen to any sensitive conversations that might be happening 10 feet below him at any given time.

It takes a mass breakout from Arkham Asylum for him to finally get five minutes alone with the Batcomputer, three seconds to type in the address for Archive of Our own, seven seconds to snap a photo-- and five seconds to set off the alarm.

He flies out of there like a bat (ha!) out of hell, prize clutched firmly in his hands. Adrenalin, a chronic lack of sleep, and several more espressos on the flight back home make the question of post, or not to post, an absolute breeze to answer.

He shares the video with his feed, accompanied by the prerequisite background music, and promptly crashes out for twelve hours straight. His last thoughts are happy, drunken little daydreams that his 103 followers will all like it.

They do like it, in fact. They like it very much.

And so do 1,394,576 other people. And counting.

Now it's in the top five stupidest things he's ever done.

Danny goes all the way to Gotham, finds the Batcave, stalks the bats long enough to figure out the passcode to the Batcomputer.

Just to do the "If there's a screen A03 will be seen." trend on Tiktok, not expecting it to blow up as big as it did.

How was he supposed to expect anything else? He was chronically unpopular for a hero, most of his tiktoks only got a solid 100 likes, entirely from the teenagers in Amity who were fans of him (something about him looking photoshopped or like AI?)

While Phantom and therefore Amity Park is under a microscope, a smart thing to do would be to lay low or cooperate with the heroes to show he's not a threat.

Instead, he posts a follow-up tiktok from The Watchtower

#dpxdc #ironically it's 3am over here too so sleep deprived acts of tomfoolery is relevant to my interests #he panics for maybe 6 hours before deciding that if he's already doomed he may as well Go For Gold #the real question is who is more unimpressed: Bruce or Jazz

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enwoso · 2 days ago

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Hi, would you write a lovie fic where she’s learning how to ride her bike? And in the learning process she takes some tumbles, but in the end she learns it.

BALANCING ACT | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was a sunny day in london, painting the backyard in hues of gold and orange as alessia crouched down, adjusting the pink helmet strap on your chin, to stop it scratching. your wild little curls peeking out from under the helmet and a determined glint in your big blue eyes as you gripped the handlebars of your small pink bike.

the training wheels had officially came off and alessia's heart was doing an uneven dance between excitement but also worry and dread.

"you ready then, lovie?" your mummy asked, giving your cheek a gentle squeezed as you looked up a big grin on your face.

you had been begging your mummy for the past few weeks to take the training wheels of your bike telling her you were a big girl and didn't need them anymore and had nothing to do with the fact that all your friends from school were also learning to ride their bikes without training wheels.

"i'm ready!" you declared, your tiny hands tightening on the handlebars as your mummy positioned you so you were facing down the driveway as she silently hoped you were out the way of her car - not wanting it to get scratched.

with a soft smile, alessia placed her hands on the back of the seat, steadying the bike for you. "okay, remember to look ahead and keep pedalling. i've got you."

you gave her a resolute nod as your face scrunched up in concentration, alessia pushed gently on the back of the seat as she jogged alongside you as the little bike wobbled forward. and for a few glorious seconds, you were actually doing it. the pedals turned and you and the bike seemed to stay upright as you let out a excited giggle.

but then, the inevitable happened. the dread that had lingered in alessia's head happened.

the front wheel veered slightly and you tipped to the side, alessia's hands reached out trying to catch you but it was too late as you tumbled onto the grass on the side of the pavement.

you sat up, your lip quivering as you clutched your scraped knee. "owie" you whimpered, your fingers hovering over the fresh scrape.

"oh, lovie" your mummy cooed, scooping you up into her arms, kissing the top of your head as she brushed a stray tear that had escaped from your cheek, "lets get you inside and patched up!"

alessia carrying you into the kitchen before lifting you onto the counter and rummaged throught a drawer for a box of plaster, ones with a cartoon character of course as in your mind they worked so much better than the boring normal ones.

your tiny legs swinging back and forth as you watched your mummy carefully clean the scrape with a damp cloth. "does it hurt a lot?" your mummy asked softly, placing the cloth to one side.

"a little" you admitted but your voice wasn't as small as alessia had expected it to be.

"okay, now this plaster is magic" your mummy said with a grin as she peeled of a bright blue strip decorated with cartoon stars, "this will make you all better in no time!"

you gave your mummy an amused look, "magic?"

"absolutely, doctor mummy guarantees it!" alessia pressed the plaster gently over the scrape, giving it a little pat for good measure. as alessia turned to toss the wrapper away, she heard your little voice, matter of fact and full of determination.

"can we go back outside now?"

alessia froze, blinking as she processed the request, turning back to you as you were already trying to wriggle off the counter, "wait- you want to keep trying?"

"yeah!" your face lit up with a smile as you spoke so full of confidence as if it was the most obvious thing you could have ever said. "i need to learn by myself!"

for a second, alessia just stared at you, a tiny whirlwind of stubbornness and resolve that you were as alessia thought back to her own childhood and how she would always feel more determined after the smallest of failures.

but here you were, your knee scraped most likely still stinging and you were ready to jump back on the bike as if nothing had happened. a big swell of pride filled alessia's chest it was making it ache slightly.

"okay," your mummy said, brushing a small strand of hair out of your face, "let me just grab a bottle of water first. and if you feel tired we stop, okay?"

"ok mummy!" you chirped and already halfway to the door to put your trainers back on after your mummy had dumped them at the front door when she carried you in.

once you both got back outside the sun was lower, as it casted shadows across the grass. alessia steadying the bike once more, her hands firm but gentle on the seat.

"let's try again," this time, alessia could tell something was different. your wobbling was a little less wobbly, your pedalling was a little more confident as then all of a sudden, you didn't need your mummy's hands there to keep you steady.

"thats it! keep doing it!" your mummy cheered as she clapped loudly her voice high with excitement. your face breaking into a wide grin as you realised what was happening.

you were riding your bike. by yourself.

"im doin' it! mummy! look i can do it!" you cried with excitement as the same small giggles left your lips. alessia clapped her hands, pride radiating from every pore as she jogged beside you. tears pricking at her eyes as she blinked them away, focusing on this moment.

when you finally came to a triumphant stop, as the pavement has ran out, you hopped off the bike, throwing your arms around your mummy's leg as she scooped you up into her arms. "i did it!"

"you did it, lovie!" your mummy murmured, twirling you around with chorus of cheers and laugher, "i'm so so so proud of you!"

you grinned, resting your head on your mummy's shoulder, "you were right the plaster was magic!" you giggled out.

alessia laughed as she held you close as she shook her head, "no baby, your the magic."

in the glow of the setting sun, you rode your bike back home perfectly before leaving it triumphantly in the garage before listing off what you wanted for dinner that nigh as alessia while listening to your list realised she had just witnessed a small but extraordinary moment - your first taste of determination and victory.

#alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso blurbs #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #england women #awfc #engwnt #grumpy universe asks #grumpy universe #enwoso

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nightingale-prompts · 1 day ago

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Supernatural Dating-DC x DP prompt

One of those thing they don't tell you about the supernatural I'd that they don't chase after humans. Some do of course but that's out of the norm. Not that humans/nonhumans aren't accepted it's just judged.

When we say supernatural we don't mean metahumans though many have assumed that title to blend in with humans.

Look, dragons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, mummies, and all sorts of fantastical beings exist. But they don't mingle with humans or human society.

Then came Amity Park a place that is mostly cut off from the rest of the world. A perfect place for supernaturals of all kinds to visit. Of course, the facade of pretending to be normal was still there but less force since the people of the town don't notice anything.

A funny thing about liminals is that they also don't usually go for normal humans. Which has led to issues.

Like, that one time a vampire came into town and Jazz was drawn to him and they started secretly dating. Danny also was drawn to that vampire and was secretly dating him. The vampire had plans to turn the siblings into his undead lovers. When Jazz found out that her boyfriend was not only cheating on her but had slept with her 17 year old brother the monster hunting DNA from their parents took control and she staked him through the chest. Danny still laughs that the only person to get both of them had to die. Jazz doesn't think it's funny.

Still, such relationships weren't out of place in this town. Almost everyone was liminal from birth. Notably, Danny's parents weren't born here and cleaned up any contact they had with ecto which explained why they hadn't turned yet.

Danny questioned anyone he has attracted to because he knew they must be inhuman.

After Vlad dragged Danny to Gotham for a Gala the older ghost didn't even bother being subtle about wanting Danny and Jazz to date one of the Waynes.

"I swear you don't want to lose the chance both further our personal wealth but to find the best possible partner." Vlad said.

Vlad made it no secret that if they didn't match with one of the Waynes in an arranged match he was going to hand them over to the Al ghuls who he liked more.

Danny and Jazz were already concerned when they felt any attraction to one of the Waynes. All of them had an aura of death.

(Yeah, I have no idea where this is going. A spaghetti at the wall situation.)

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc prompt

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cloudyynebulas · 2 days ago

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Hey hey, can I request Shadow Milk x Nerd!Reader? Reader was once a normal cookie and interested in supernaturals.

(if you know Gravity Falls, yes it's just like BillFord before breakup lol)

❝ 𝗪𝗘'𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡, 𝗬/𝗡 𝗖𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗜𝗘 ! ❞

shadow milk cookie x reader.

reader is gender neutral.

shadow milk cookie is referred to as shadow milk cookie in this story, both pre-corruption and present time.

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

YOUR HANDS FLIPPED THROUGH THE PAGES of one of the countless books inside of the library of the famous Blueberry Yogurt Academy. Your research had gone on for hours, despite class hours having ended long ago that day. The moon had long since risen, and it's pale shining light illuminated the room of knowledge, lighting the words on the soft pages of what was most likely the ninth book you'd began reading that day.

You were the Librarian of this Academy - and this room was essentially your home. Students that came in and out of these chambers never once visited without seeing your face, whether it was behind the counter and assisting students, or suggesting different books of differerent genres.

You were an absolute bookworm, head swarmed with knowledge, but such a label did not bother you in the slightest. You enjoyed taking in countless stories, whether they were tales of legend, or fictional nonsense, learning and discovering more about the world of Earthbread through mere pages of countless writings was an art that you developed an immense passion for.

This world was full of secrets, so how could you not stick your head inside an open book that beckoned you with answers?

Your mind was so focused on the literature in front of you, you failed to perk up at the sound of the large library doors creaking open like they always would, acting as a doorbell of sorts for a door that lacked a bell.

"I thought I'd still find you here,"

His voice breaks you out of your trance, your head turning over towards the door, where the Head of the Academy stood - Shadow Milk Cookie.

Such a familiar face was a welcomed one. You and Shadow Milk Cookie had developed a deep bond, ever since your job application to this Academy had been accepted for the position of Librarian. The two of you shared a collective interest in knowledge, especially with him being the Virtue of Knowledge, it was to no ones surprise that you both clicked almost instantly.

"Ah, you.." you let out a lighthearted chuckle, closing the indigo cover book you'd once been completely focused on. "I had the slightest feeling you'd show up."

If anyone knew how to completely zap out your focus from reading of all things - one of your biggest passions, it was Shadow Milk Cookie. Something about him and his presence always changed the atmosphere of a room upon his arrival. It wasn't all too much of a shock, he was one of the divine Cookies first baked by the Witches, but his role as the Virtue of Knowledge didn't change the way you saw him in the slightest.

You just saw him as.. Shadow Milk Cookie. One of your closest friends. Someone you could connect to easily.

"..You do know how late it is, right?" Shadow Milk Cookie queries, raising a brow - his eyes briefly glancing over toward the moonlight shining through one of the many rectangular shaped windows of the library. "I'm all for late night reading, of course, but.. shouldn't you be getting home?"

You hummed, eyes glancing toward the antique clock.

Huh. No wonder it had felt later than usual - you normally would've left at least an hour ago!

You sheepishly chuckled, "I must've been too focused on this book, I completely lost track of time.."

Shadow Milk Cookie merely smiled, now standing just beside you as you stood up from your cushioned seat.

"I can see that. What were you reading this time?"

You slid the closed book over towards him, and his eyes skimmed the indigo-cotton cover with interest.

"Ah.. Histories of Crispia?" He spoke, his voice almost like a whisper as his hand briefly brushed over the cover. "This one is most definitely a classic - one I read long ago."

His head moved upwards, heterochromatic eyes looking back toward you.

"What do you think of it so far, Y/N Cookie?"

You weren't sure what it was, but you found the answer on the tip of your tongue unable to escape your lips - your eyes locked onto the taller cookie in front of you.

The moonlight reflected his dough near perfectly, his eyes practically glowing in the darkness.

The silence between you two went unnoticed by you- blissfully unaware you'd been staring, until Shadow Milk Cookie cleared his throat.

"Y/N Cookie?"

You blinked, nearly jumping in your spot as the original answer to his question finally escaped your mouth.

"Ah - sorry, sorry!" You blurted out a quick apology, feeling a small heat rise to your cheeks. "I.. I really like it so far! It's.. it's really good,"

You felt incredibly embarrassed for staring. Maybe it'd been the exhaustion getting to you?

Get ahold of yourself Y/N ... You mentally scolded yourself.

Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a reassuring smile. "No worries! It's alright, Y/N Cookie."

He slid the book back over to you, which you grabbed off of the table, holding it in your hands.

"Shall we, then?" Shadow Milk Cookie turned to the door, gesturing for you to follow him out.

You nodded, the two of you walking together out of the library and into the massive, dimly lit hallways of the Blueberry Yogurt Academy.

The walk between you two was quiet for the most part, your footsteps echoing across the reflective marble floor tinted with blues of different shades, with both of you standing side by side, awfully close - hands nearly brushing up against each other with every other step.

Your stroll to the front entrance of the Academy was about halfway through when Shadow Milk Cookie spoke up once again.

"How about you and I read that book together during the lunch periods this week?" He offered, turning to you. "If you have the free-time in your schedule, of course."

Your eyes lit up in excitement.

"Oh, I'd love to!"

Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled. "I thought you'd say that. In fact, I could definitely brew some of the tea that I've been meaning to use.. if you're in the mood for tea, that is."

You beamed, nodding your head - stars practically forming in your eyes.

"We haven't gotten to hang out a ton these past few weeks!" You grinned. "Exams have been pretty busy for us - not just the students!"

"Ah.. well, you know how it is." Shadow Milk Cookie shrugged. "I have greatly missed our hangouts together."

"Aww.. you missed hanging out with me?"

"Of course I did, Y/N Cookie."

You felt that heat rise up to your cheeks again at his words.

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled at your reaction, the two of you finally reaching the front doors of the Academy. He pushed open the doors, holding them open and allowing you to step outside, before following soon after.

Standing right outside the Academy, the two of you gazed up at the night sky for a few moments, eyes darting around at the patterns of countless stars that glistened through various sizes, dancing around the large moon.

Almost like a stage light, its shine illuminated the two of you in it's soft beam.

And for a while, it was quiet - nothing but the soft breeze of the night filling the air.

Slowly, you found yourself turning your gaze back towards Shadow Milk Cookie. Having felt your gaze, he soon did the same.

You smiled softly.

"Thanks."

He hummed.

"For what?"

"Everything."

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"You're too kind, Y/N Cookie. Far too kind."

You began to make your way down the small, white brick steps, the book still held close to your chest. As you quickly reach the end of the path where the walkway converges, you turn your head back one last time for the night.

You wave your free hand, waving goodbye to Shadow Milk Cookie.

"See you tomorrow, Shadow Milk Cookie!" you beam.

The professor waves a polite goodbye in return.

"Till we meet again, Y/N Cookie."

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

The world was in chaos. Nothing but the yells of terrified Cookies, children and adults, filled the air - as fires spread throughout all of Earthbread.

The day had started out as it normally had - yet all of a sudden, screams rang out, your head shooting up from the book you'd been reading. You ran over to one of the windows of the Library, looking outside to see destruction raining down upon all sides.

You dashed out of the Library as fast as you could, the hallways once delicately crafted with fine marble beginning to take in the swift damage from the outside - small cracks and rubble staining the walls and floors.

"Shadow Milk Cookie?!" you yelled out, frantically searching every nook and cranny of the Academy as fast as you could, all while making sure you could get any students out of harms way. The ground shook and trembled with each passing minute, and every speck of your dough begged you to run to safety.

Yet the adrenaline that coursed through your veins prevailed through the fight, determined to find Shadow Milk Cookie, just to make sure he was safe.

But your desperate search was quickly cut short when familiar laughter could almost be heard from the skies. You froze, eyes darting to the front entrance of the Academy.

Eyebrows furrowing, you ran to the doors, which had nearly collapsed upon themselves from the damage and fires that spread quickly. Your head glanced in all directions, horrified at the sight of screaming, crying, or injured Cookies that were avoiding magical attacks of cards, strings and strange phantoms that wore jester-like attire.

"..what?"

"Y/N Cookie! Theeere you are!"

You froze. That familiar voice of the one you'd been searching for - why did he suddenly sound so.. off?

His voice seemed to echo throughout the sky.

You slowly moved your head up, your eyes widening at the sight of Shadow Milk Cookie high up in the sky, his form twisted - with a sinister grin of sharp teeth staring right back at you.

"I just knew I'd find you here!" Shadow Milk Cookie beamed, clapping his hands together. "Although what took you so long? You were almost late to our hangout!"

You stepped back in horror.

He tilted his head to the side at an unnatural angle.

"Awh.. don't tell me you almost forgot!" Shadow Milk Cookie pouted, fake sorrow laced in his tone. "Not to worry! All is forgiven, dear Y/N Cookie!"

Puppeteer strings suddenly formed in the sky, flying straight towards your form. You nearly had zero time to react from the alarming speed they flew towards your form, entangling around your limbs and hoisting you up in the air without an inch of effort.

You were quickly dragged up into the sky, floating idly beside Shadow Milk Cookie, who quickly placed his hands on your shoulders, shaking you with excitement.

"Oh, oh this is gonna be sooo much fun, Y/N Cookie!" He beamed. "Now, this hangout is gonna be a liiiitle different than just silly books and tea!"

You felt yourself being dragged along with him as he floated in the sky, the strings holding you tight forcing you along.

Words bubbled in your throat.

Feelings swarmed in your mind.

Betrayal? Shock? Fear? Anger?

You stared off into space, thoughts swarming and clouded with volatile emotions. How could this happen? This - this wasn't the Shadow Milk Cookie you once knew.

The one so kind, so caring, someone you related to on so many levels, someone who shared so many passions with you -

He had been acting off as the weeks went by, seemingly more stressed and exhausted as the days ticked by, but no Cookie, not even you, could've predicted such an outcome.

You wanted to cry.

Tears threatened to spill, pricking at your eyes.

Shadow Milk Cookie came to a halt, staring at you with those same, familiar heterochromatic eyes.

He clicked his tongue. "Oh, Y/N Cookie .. don't give me that look!"

His hand brushed away a small glob of semi-transparent tears that almost spilled down your left eye.

"Save your tears, bookworm." He grinned, patting the top of your head with twisted affection. "For the show's about to begin!"

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

#cookie run x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader

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cryinggirlnamedhelen · 17 hours ago

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michael kaiser wanted to be loved.

he wanted unconditional, ethereal, and never ending love. he wanted to always be supported, that no matter what he did, he will always and still be loved. he wanted the constant feeling of being supported no matter what, that he’s a lovable creature, that he isn’t subhuman like his father had once told him.

soccer brought that to kaiser.

with soccer came satisfaction. he would crush his rivals, his enemies, and each time, he felt a little bit more human, a little bit more loved. it got to the point where that feeling of pleasure and accomplishment became addictive for kaiser, and his sole purpose for playing soccer was to crush his opponents and receiving more and more love.

he became so obsessed with the glory that came from soccer that he began neglecting his own health and harming himself whenever things didn’t go his way when it came to soccer. his fingers wrapped tightly around his throat was once an action of his father, although it now carried on to him. bruises on his body was something that carried on from his childhood to his adult life, even though he had managed to escape his father when he was 15 after having been recruited from the prison.

whenever he lost a soccer match, he would go back to his room and cut off his airflow with his tattooed hand pressing right above the base of his neck as he struggled for oxygen, coughs constantly escaping him. it was only natural; after all, he lost a soccer match. he lost a bit of his humanity and love. he was just becoming subhuman again.

kaiser became so obsessed with soccer that he didn’t even realize that someone who loved him unconditionally was right there, right in front of him this whole time, and yet he was so caught up in his own life that he never even realized.

you and kaiser were childhood best friends. he was your mihya, not michael, no kaiser. he was small, weak, and couldn’t stand up to his father. he didn’t know how to speak to people in a kind manner. he bled when he fell on concrete, and yet he never cried. his face was always covered in grime and dried blood, his body was always littered in bruises, and yet he never cried in front of you. it took months after meeting you for him to finally even smile in front of you.

the first time kaiser ever cried in front of you was when you had gotten him a gift for his birthday.

kaiser never knew how to react to gifts, so he didn’t enjoy receiving them. but it was his eighth birthday, you were obviously going to get your best friend a gift. it was just a simple keychain of a blue rose, a flower you knew he liked. when you handed it to him with a cheerful “happy birthday, mihya!”, tears had sprung to his eyes.

he asked you why you were willing to give him a gift, why you were willing to spend time with him. when you just answered with a worried look and quiet “well, you’re my best friend, of course i would”, kaiser knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

maybe that was why his descent into madness and obsession hit you harder than it did kaiser.

you had indeed stuck with him, even now, at nineteen. twelve years after your initial meeting. you’ve had a crush on him for exactly as long as you had both met, spiraling from a small childhood crush to being deeply and hopeless in love and attached to him. and yet you had no idea whether kaiser liked you or not; he was too obsessed with soccer to show any signs.

whenever kaiser lost a match, you knew that he was going to commit to a session of harming himself for at least an hour so again. somehow, you felt more pain that kaiser did when he did so, always outside of his door, banging for him to stop and begging him to not do this to himself every time while tears escaped your eyes. you loved him; you didn’t want the boy you loved to be so willing and constant with hurting himself.

he ignored you every time, occasionally telling you to go away or mind your own business.

you had enough with it one day. you were sick of it, constantly hearing his choked noises from his bedroom every time he lost a match. finally, one day, when kaiser lost a match, he stormed off to his room again. but before he could slam the door shut, you shoved your entire body weight against the door, trying to stop it from shutting.

“what the fuck are you doing?” kaiser hissed, trying to push the door shut. “mind your own business. i’ll be done soon enough.” but no avail; you continued your weak attempts of pushing the door open. kaiser scoffed from the other side. he usually avoided getting mad at you, although it was hard for him to do so in the first place. but now you were starting to piss him off. can’t he offer himself a therapeutic session in peace?

“no! mihya, stop it and just open the door.” you were beginning to get pushed back from the door, before you used your final backup plan and shoved your arm in between the open space left from the door. you yelped from the pain, and kaiser instantly lost all anger at that moment, pulling open the door immediately when he heard your yelp. you stepped into the room stiffly.

“are you retarded? what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kaiser exclaimed, wide eyed as you clutched your arm, which was beginning to turn into the color of a rotting plum. you turned to glare at him, angry tears springing to your eyes.

“i’ll do this shit every fucking time for as long as you keep doing this to yourself every damn time you lost a match, you idiot.” you replied. you sighed before looking down somberly. “how long are you going to keep doing this to yourself, mihya? you’re obsessed with fame. you’re obsessed with all of this. you’re enjoying ruining the lives of other people for love. mihya, that’s not worth it. that’s not worth your body. that’s not worth your mentality.”

kaiser felt anger bubbling up inside of him again, and before he realized his, his voice raised to a level that he would usually never dare to use with you, although he would be fine using this tone with anyone else. “you don’t fucking understand! your father never called you a subhuman! he never choked you for no reason! your mother never left you! your father never beat you every day no particular reason! your father didn’t require you to steal every fucking day because his fatass can’t move two meters from the couch and his precious beer! soccer makes me feel loved! soccer makes me feel human! soccer is with me!”

for a moment, you stood there silently. you stared at him as he huffed, his breathing shallow from the loud rant. his eyes were sharp, and in that moment, only one thought ran through your head.

this was still your mihya.

he was yelling at you, you knew that. but he has every right to say all of this, to be mad at the world, at you. he has every right to be upset, to be angry. he has every right to rant about his trauma. he has every right to trauma dump. but at the same time, he’s missing a key component here.

“well, would soccer still be with you if you were nobody?! would all of those fans and self-satisfying thoughts still love you if you were no one?!” you shouted. your eyebrows knit together; did he not realize how fabricating this all was? how shallow this all was?

“no one loved me when i was no one!” kaiser hollered back. “no one loved me when i was just some stupid brat who spent most of his time outside of his house wandering on the streets! no one loved me when my father still used to beat me every day like some fucking punching back! no one loved me when i was still just a subhuman!”

and at that moment, a tear leaked from the corner of your eye. shit, this wasn’t even your problem, and yet angry tears were still flowing. your fists clenched, before finally, you screamed. “i loved you were you were no one!” finally, you finally finally finally got it out. kaiser froze, but you kept on going. “i loved you when you still wore dirty clothes every day! i loved you when you didn’t even know how to say a polite word to anyone! i loved you when you were still small and stupid and you!”

your lips quivered, more tears threatening to fall. you wiped your eyes. “before the ‘love’. before the fame. before soccer. and mihya,” you placed a hand on your swelling arm, that was going from rotting plum purple to the blue of kaiser’s eyes. “i still love you. i love you. but if you just can’t accept it and you’ll continue to wallow in that stupid destructive self-pity of yours where you think that no one loves you, then don’t come crawling back to me!”

you turned around to leave the room, your hand on the door knob, until a warm pair of arms wrapped around your waist. your felt tears begin to soak through your shirt from your shoulder, and your eyes widened. he’s crying?

“goddamn it, i don’t know why im fucking crying. i shouldn’t be. but what the fuck…” kaiser whispered into your shoulder. “i—i-“ he gulped, and your could see his hands interlock together as they squeezed the other like a lifeline. “i love you too.”

finally.

you turned around, separating his hands from the other and intertwining your fingers with his. you smiled softly at him, a small sniffle escaping you. “you said it. im so proud of you, mihya.” you knew how much trouble he had saying those words. how hard it was to say something that you had never heard before. “and i love you.”

silently, you got on your tip-toes, your lips almost touching his, before a few quiet words escaped you. “is this okay?”

kaiser huffed quietly. “way to ruin to moment. you’re this far into the process, and now you’re asking? but fuck yes.” you laughed before you softly planted your lips onto his.

the kiss wasn’t rough in the least, but it spoke of years of pent up emotion and unspoken pain. kaiser untangled his fingers from your and cupped your face so strangely gently, which he silently swore in his heart at that moment that he would never hold someone else like this, like the love of his life.

and when kaiser pulled away from the kiss, just a bit out of breath but just right, that’s when he saw it. deep in your eyes, and also in his.

the look of love.

word count: 1.8k (1878)

a/n: i watched shark tale for the first time the other day, and it had NO RIGHT being that good. the angie and oscar argument changed me forever, and it inspired me to make this. i was originally going to make this for isagi before i realized that isagi is AWARE that his parents love him, and that this prompt also matches with kaiser better.

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becomesylus · 22 hours ago

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Distraction

“ caleb comes back after a long business trip, finally having him in your arms. a moment of glee courses through your veins until he gets a phone call from his colleague and takes him away from you. that can’t do, you have to do something about it… ’’

caleb x reader; 2.3k words

warning: porn without plot, slight exhibitionism (caleb gets fucked while on a call), hand job through cloth, blow job, reader wants attention, skull fucking, fingering, open ending

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

How long has it been since you’ve seen Caleb? You don’t know, but you don’t care at the moment since he decided to show up unexpectedly at your apartment in his uniform.

It was clear he came in after duty with his luggage in one hand and flowers held by his other hand, standing there with his anticipatory smirk and head tilt of endearment. You pulled him into your embrace, leaving him almost stumbling into you. The sheer glee that emanated through your system just to see your long-distance boyfriend was contagious as Caleb laughed at your eagerness as he kicked the door shut.

After placing the flowers in the vase, and him disappearing into your room, your eyes traced Caleb’s movement and you can’t help but ogle at his form with his uniform. The naturally relaxed and placid demeanor paired with the honorable and sophisticated style of the uniform is laced with badges and medals. Oh, were you at the edge of a cliff, ready to go and take him right there where you can get him to—

“hey?”

you snapped out of your thoughts before it went to a dangerous territory before looking at the source. caleb stood at the edge of the hallway, now in casual clothing, smiling at you as he notices your zones out face.

“you alright there?” he asked with a gentle tone, walking up to you in careful steps. He kneels down to your eye level where you're sitting, his necklace carelessly dangles down, swaying back and forth like a pendulum right in front of your face. God does he make you go insane without meaning to.

“yeah, I’m alright…"

Totally not thinking of riding you right here right now.

"Okay, I'll grab us some snacks while you go pick—" he stated as he got up from kneeling, only for you to jolt and gripped his arm. He turned around, head tilting in confusion as his trail of view went down from where your hand was placed up to your face that read multiple languages. You shocked yourself with this sudden move, but you had no room to speak as you wanted him even more.

You stood up from your seat, eyes maintaining contact with his lilac irises. He doesn't know what's going on with you, and frankly, you can't explain it verbally, instead, you pushed him down to your sofa before you got on top of his lap, making him gasp and groan at the sudden attack.

Once the shock subsided, he instantly began painting in his infamous cheeky smirk as his hands held your waist while your hands reached up to his face.

"So... that's what you're up to..." Caleb's voice rasped in intrigue as your hands began roaming from his face down to his neck. He shudders as your fingernails graze his neck, goosebumps pimpled up. Before you can reply back with your sly remarks, Caleb pulls you to crash your lips onto his, making you moan in contact.

The kiss was fervent and desperate from both ends like you were both holding back, and indeed you were. Long distance did more damage than good for both of your cravings yet right now it was worthwhile as your tongues danced around each other, finally reuniting for a blissful gathering. The sounds of smacks and moans escaped from both of your lips as it continues its rounds of passion.

You would pull away every now and then to grab a bit of air, but you were both addicted to each other. It was like your lips were magnets, hard to repel and let go of both polar ends. Both yours and Caleb have reign to move around and explore your aroused bodies, with him slipping past your shirt to strip it off leaving you exposed, much to his desire.

His thumb started playing with your bud, making you gasp and feel the heat emanating from your lower region. His lips migrated down to your neck as he continued to play with your clothed nipples, meanwhile, your hands did their fair share of traveling, aiming to get to their desired destination.

His attacks in your neck halted as he suddenly shudder and gasp out a moan as your hand traveled south and palmed through his sweatpants.

"Oh, ffuck...~" Caleb's curses came out with an erotic sigh as your hand began twisting and stroking through the fabric. You finally get to see his blissed-out state in the flesh and not through a screen, the beauty that is his fucked out face while his groans and whines began playing like they were music to your ears. Finally, some time you'd have to yourself—

bzzz bzzz

Caleb's phone vibrated, making you two halt your movements. He checked the phone, and he let out a whispered "shit."

"I'm sorry, doll, but I have to take this, I'll make it quick," Caleb profusely apologized, with his eyes pleading with guilt and his hand caressing your cheek reassuringly before he picked up the call. You couldn't be mad at him, of course, you couldn't, it wasn't his fault.

But the caller picked the worst time and you had no one to place your anger at except him, which he consistently encourages you to do. While he was talking to his subordinate, Caleb noticed you getting up from your lap, his eyes essentially telling you "What are you doing?"

You paid no mind as you got down on your knees in front of your boyfriend. The anticipation and lust were eating you alive and you were going to lose it. You pulled down his sweatpants and boxers just enough to free his hard cock out of its restraints. Despite Caleb's stoic demeanor, his cock spoke otherwise—angry, excited and ready to be inserted in a warm place.

Caleb muted the call as he looked down at you, "babe, I'm in a call, you can't—Ha!"

His words were cut off by a gasp as you began kissing the base of his length and your hand began to teasingly graze from his balls up to his tip. You smirked as you hooded your eyes at him, your lips ghosting at the sensitive skin, while his face flushed even redder.

"Go on... don't let me stop you," You teasingly spoke as you smirked before you began kitty licking the head while maintaining eye contact. Caleb looks down at you gob smacked, yet he took your teasing demeanor as a challenge, so he smirked back at you as he began stroking your head.

"Colonel... Colonel, are you there?" The caller can be heard calling out from Caleb's phone. Your boyfriend, while maintaining eye contact with you, unmuted the call as he leaned back into the base of the sofa while you began to fully place his cock inside your mouth.

"I'm with you..." Caleb spoke eloquently as if you weren't giving him the best sucking of his life. The call carried on as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, while Caleb tilted his head to the side with a menacing smirk plastered on his face, looking like he has a plan.

You tried to tease him by pulling out and simply licking him up, especially at the tip, almost taunting that he couldn't do anything to please you and instead he has to take this important call.

"Oh yeah?" Caleb mused, you weren't sure if it was directed towards the caller or you, but it was in sync with him shoving your head down, making you choke at the sudden action. He held a grip on your hair as he began to thrust up to your head, creating choked sounds from your end. He bit his lips to not let out any moans and showcase any signs of vulnerability in front of his coworker, but the sight of you struggling to fit him entirely while tears rolled down your face made him get closer to the edge.

"Give me one second," Caleb said sternly, as he muted the call once again, and placed the phone to the side. He pulled your head off of his cock, making you gasp for your air. He took his cock that was lubed up by your saliva and began stroking it in a vigorous pace.

"Open up, you better take it and swallow it," he growled out as he found himself having a hard time speaking as the speed of his hand caused him to feel an electric sensation coursing through his veins. You obliged as you stuck out your tongue to not miss any drop of his essence out of your pretty, stretched-out mouth.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours..." He muttered before he began whimpering out more strings of curse words. With a few more pumps, he imploded like a volcano, and his sweet, white lava splatted all across your mouth and face, making him moan at the sight. He pants as he throws his head back while you swallow whatever load that landed on your mouth.

He rolled his head back down at you, still trying to catch his breath, seeing you clean up whatever remained of his pearly juice that you missed. He chuckles as he pats your head and whispers, "such a good girl... c'mere."

Despite a command, he pulled you in to kiss him, his cum still staining your mouth, his tongue tasting himself making him moan at the flavor combined with your lip balm. He pulled away, still craving more out of you, he pushed you down to the mattress and began pulling down your skirt and panties in a quick motion, making you giggle at his excitement. The cool air making contact with your bare pussy caused you to clench in sensitivity and excitement. Your eyes began to sparkle as he began to strip off his remaining clothing.

However, instead of proceeding, he turns to his phone and got back to the caller, making you scrunch your brow in confusion.

"Sorry about that, my... cat started to rummage around and make a mess," Caleb paused as he looked down at you. His voice was serious and cold when talking yet his eyes were blown with lust, they were ready to eat you up. You were, however, unsure what's happening, he wasn't doing anything and just talking to his colleague while maintaining an intense eye contact with you.

You realized, however, that he was doing mental calculations to pounce, as you were suddenly surpassed by his other hand being placed between your thighs and began playing with your slit. You let out a surprised moan, making you cover your mouth as to not let the caller hear you in this state.

Caleb chuckled darkly as the caller began asking if it was his cat acting up. Little does he know, the cat in question was writhing and whimpering in pleasure as he inserted both his middle and ring finger and stretched her out for him to fit inside her.

"oh, you have no idea..."

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb smut #caleb x mc #caleb x reader smut #lads caleb #caleb #lnds caleb #caleb lads #lads smut #lads x reader #love and deep space

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littlelamy · 2 days ago

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Pouge!Reader x Rafe(season 4-isch): She has a crush on Rafe (maybe he comes somewhere she works, say café, bakery or whatever) and she thinks her feelings obviously are unrequited given that she is a pouge. Rafe is still at that point where he is struggling between the thoughts of ‘’Pouge-vs-kooks are ridiculous’’ but also caring. Perhaps he is having a crush on Reader but is finding his internal thoughts so he goes on a date with some kook girl and Reader see them somewhere, and her dreams are crushed since the girl is the complete opposite of her (expensive clothes, barbie pretty face and manicured etc) and she feels so stupid since she was clearly not even Rafe’s type. She says yes to a date with some random Pouge guy and….well…..Rafe sees them---the dude holding her hand, kissing her cheek and making her smile, and decides to talk to her when she goes off by herself

the salty tang of the ocean still clung to your skin as you adjusted your apron behind the counter of the little seaside café. it was nothing fancy—wooden tables scuffed from years of service, mismatched chairs that creaked whenever someone leaned back too far. but it was yours. well, not yours-yours, but a place you’d carved out a piece of yourself in.

you wiped your hands on a towel and glanced up just as the bell above the door jingled. and there he was. rafe cameron.

he didn’t belong here, not really. everything about him screamed kildare royalty—the sharp cut of his jawline, the too-clean sneakers that probably cost more than your entire paycheck, the faint whiff of something expensive and unattainable. and yet, he came here.

it started a month ago, the first time he strolled in like he owned the place, squinting at the menu board above your head. you’d fumbled with the cash register, your palms clammy. “can i get a black coffee?” his voice had been low, smooth, and it did stupid things to your stomach.

he’d been coming back ever since.

you told yourself it was nothing. he probably just liked the quiet, the way the café was tucked away from the usual kook place. but then there were the moments. the way his eyes lingered on you a second too long when you handed him his order. the faint curve of a smile when you tried to make small talk and ended up rambling about nothing.

but you were a pouge. and rafe? rafe was… not.

“uh, hey,” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts. he stood at the counter, hands shoved into his pockets.

“hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual even though your heart was doing somersaults. “the usual?”

he nodded, but his gaze flicked over you like he was searching for something to say. “yeah. uh, thanks.”

you busied yourself with the coffee machine, grateful for the excuse to not look at him. because every time you did, you felt it. that stupid, hopeless crush that made your chest ache and your cheeks burn.

when you handed him his cup, your fingers brushed briefly. you swore he hesitated, just for a second, before pulling away. “thanks,” he said again, softer this time, and then he was gone, the door jingling shut behind him.

it wasn’t long before the café became the place you dreaded most. because it was where you saw her.

the girl was flawless, all shiny hair and manicured nails and a wardrobe that probably came straight from vogue. she sat across from rafe at one of the tables by the window, laughing at something he said. the kind of laugh that sounded effortless, like she didn’t have a single care in the world.

you hated her. not because she’d done anything to you, but because she was everything you weren’t. and rafe? he looked at her the way you’d imagined he’d look at you in your wildest dreams.

you tried not to stare as you cleaned tables , your chest tight. but then rafe glanced up, and for a split second, your eyes met. he looked away quickly, like he’d been caught, and you wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it all was. of course he wasn’t looking at you. why would he?

you said yes to the date with ethan out of sheer spite. he was nice enough, a fellow pouge who worked on the docks, but there was nothing earth-shattering about him. still, when he held your hand and kissed your cheek, you let him. you let him because it felt good to be wanted, even if it wasn’t by the person you wanted most.

it was during one of those kisses, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth as you both walked along the beach, that you saw him. rafe. he was leaning against his truck, arms crossed, watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

you pulled away from ethan, your smile faltering. “i’ll catch up with you in a minute,” you mumbled, ignoring his puzzled expression.

you made your way over to rafe, your heart pounding. “what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

his jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. then: “he’s not right for you.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the raw edge to his voice. “excuse—what?”

“he’s not right for you,” rafe repeated, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “and you know it.”

you laughed, a short, bitter sound. “and who is? you? last i checked, you were pretty happy with barbie over there.”

he flinched, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. but then he stepped closer, his voice low and strained. “she’s not you.”

those three words stopped you cold. you stared at him, your mind racing. “what are you talking about, rafe?”

“i…” he ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his face. “i can’t stop thinking about you, okay? every time i see you with him, it’s like…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “i don’t know. but it’s driving me fucking crazy.”

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. because this couldn’t be happening. rafe cameron couldn’t be standing here, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“why now?” you finally managed to ask, your voice trembling. “why are you telling me this now, rafe?”

he hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. “because seeing you with him made me realize how fucking stupid i’ve been.” he looked up again, his eyes burning into yours. “and because i can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

you wanted to scream at him, to tell him he didn’t get to do this—didn’t get to mess with your head when you were finally trying to move on. but instead, you said nothing, the weight of his words sinking in.

“i need to go,” you whispered, turning away before he could see the tears welling in your eyes.

“wait,” he called after you, his voice breaking. but you didn’t stop. because if you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to walk away again.

lamy's notes: i hope you liked it!!!

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx

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sukunasluvrr · 24 hours ago

Text

DILF!kuna who was the father of your teen daughters friend. Uraume was a timid person around others but visibly good raised by the older and rather intimidating guy

DILF!kuna who didn’t make much conversation whenever you picked up your daughter from his place after sleepovers, the simple “hi, I’m here to pick up my kid” and him calling uraume over to let them know and simply saying your goodbyes was all it ever was. Nobody could deny Sukuna looked good. God, his voice alone was enough to make your thighs squeeze together in silence and whenever his muscles flexes you swore he did it on purpose to taunt you, especially when he walked around without a shirt at home- of course only when your kid wasn’t around.

DILF!kuna who one day reached out to you privately, which kind of surprised you and at the same time made you think something bad happened, only for him to ask you out on a date the next time your kids had a sleepover at his place. Who would pass up that chance tho?

DILF!kuna who turns out to be a really sweet man, sure he looks big and scary but he ended up paying for your meal and was acting cocky yet kind to you the whole night. He does know how to treat his women after all.

DILF!kuna who ended up fucking you in the backseats of his car because he was too impatient to get back to your place, pressing you face down ass up into the leather seats and thrusting into from behind, leaving you a babbling mess with drool leaving your lips in a way you barely noticed until he called it out

“Awww look at you!! Already cockdrunk, hm? Seems like you never got it this good then”

And to prove his point, he only pushed deeper into you, leaning down and his hand snaking around to give your clit a few swirls, wanting to feel you tighten and loosen up around his thick girth with each flick of his finger

“How about I give you a baby hm? You want that? Be all swollen because of me? Become a mom for a second time, sweet thing??”

You could barely register his words, the only thing you could hear were the words ‘give you a baby’ and ‘sweet thing’ and god his dick was cruel. Repeatedly hitting your g-spot and making you leak fluids down your slick, stretched hole and smear all over your skin and his balls

“Mfff, y-yes!!!”

He actually laughed at your response. Laughed at how dazed you sounded

“That’s it. Give you a bunch of brats, hm? Bet you’ll look good, saw the- Fuck. Saw some pics of you pregnant”

You didn’t know where he saw them, figuring he saw them on your moms Facebook page, which only left you to wonder how he knew your moms name. But that’s a concern for later, his pace becoming more relentless the more he felt your cunt squeeze around him, not caring how much the car was shaking, not caring if they’d get fined with a ticket, all he could care about was your sweet pussy gripping his dick like a vice. His free hand grabbing a hold of your ass cheek to spread it a little so he could try and slide even deeper into you, his sack making contact with your clit which made a gasp leave your lips, mixed with more moans of your pleasure. His own groans were lingering around the cramped space, praising you and sweet talking you while his dick was ruining your insides for any other man, making sure your inner walls moulded to his hefty girth and make it impossible for any other man to pleasure you like he did. You didn’t know if you were whimpering from the stretch that came with the new angle, or the way his thumb was wiping over your asshole

“I feel like every part of you is cute… god- even your little hole here is tempting”

And he had half the mind to slip his thumb in, but he didn’t. Focusing his movement inside your cunt and the hand that was still on your clit, giving mean circles over it that had your back arching further and thighs twitching

“I need you to cum for me sweet thing, make me proud eh”

And like a slut you did… moaning his name as you came messily around his dick, he had a shit eating grin on his face as he gave a a few more pumps of his hips before he let out a sound that almost sounded like a whimper, ending up cumming deep inside your cunny and groaning in satisfaction as he felt himself fill you up with his seed. Seeming lost in his own world while he kept himself quiet but not pulling out just yet, leaning down against and burying his face in the crook of your neck and kissing over your sweaty skin, the older man being almost completely able to wrap around you

“Mhm… how about you move in with me? Brats would love it I bet”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader

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heliosunny · 16 hours ago

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Hi! An idea I'd love to see - Fae!Phainon with a Reader that used to play with him where they were a child and visited the little village they grandma lived in. It's too bad they made a little promise to him long time ago without thinking through the consequences and now that they are back...

Yandere!Fae Phainon x Reader

You were only a child when you first met him, lost in the dense, whispering woods beyond your grandmother’s village. The elders always warned you about the Fae, about the creatures that watched from the shadows, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves.

They said the Fae despised humans. That they could see through human nature, through the greed and the lies, and that no bond between mortal and fae could ever be genuine.

But you were young. You didn’t understand hatred. Not yet.

You found Phainon sitting in the roots of an old, gnarled tree, silver hair tangled and matted, his strange, sharp blue eyes narrowed in pain. Bruises marred his skin, dark against his pale complexion. His fine, delicate clothes were torn, though even in their ruined state, they were more elegant than anything you had ever seen.

It was clear that he was not human. He glared at you, his small hands curling into fists as you stepped closer.

“Go away!” His voice was sharp, like the cold bite of winter. “I don’t need your pity.”

You hesitated.

“I just want to help” you said.

Phainon bared his teeth at you, his pointed canines flashing in the dim light. “Help? Like a human could ever help me.”

Even at that young age, his hatred for humans ran deep. You should have listened. You should have left. But instead, you did something foolish. You took him back to your grandmother’s house.

It was not easy. He resisted at first, lashing out like a wounded animal, but he was too weak to fight you properly. The moment your grandmother saw him, her face paled, and she immediately started whispering old protection charms under her breath. But she did not turn him away.

“Fae or not, a child is a child” she murmured as she tended to his wounds.

Phainon never forgot that.

For days, he was silent. You would sit near him, chattering about the village, about the flowers that bloomed in spring, about how you wished you could fly like the birds. You never expected him to respond. Until one evening, when the fire crackled low, he finally spoke. “I hate humans” he whispered, staring into the flames. “They’re cruel. Selfish. Liars.” You were quiet for a moment. Then, you asked, “Do you hate me?” Phainon turned his head, and for the first time, he truly looked at you. “…I don’t know yet.”

Time passed, and Phainon became your only fae friend.

He showed you the hidden places in the woods where the fae danced under the moonlight. You brought him food from the village, and in return, he whispered the names of things humans had forgotten, the true names of the wind and the rivers, the secret paths that bent reality itself.

But the fae did not forget. Phainon was warned, again and again, that no good would come from caring for a human. And yet, he stayed.

When the time came for you to leave your grandmother’s village, you saw something you never expected in his eyes. Desperation.

“You’ll come back” he said.

You smiled. “Of course, I will. And when I do, we’ll be together. Forever.”

It was just a childhood promise. A silly thing. You meant it in the way children always do fleeting, thoughtless, without weight.

But words have power. And the fae never forget.

Years passed. The world changed. Fate pulled you back to that village, back to where Phainon waited, where your long-forgotten promise had never been forgotten at all.

Phainon had changed.

Once a wary, quiet fae, he had risen through the ranks, becoming one of the most revered among his kind. Where once his presence had been dismissed, now fae spoke of him in hushed admiration, their words laced with awe and devotion. He was no longer just Phainon, he was an elite, his power undeniable, his beauty otherworldly.

When you returned to your grandmother’s house, the air felt different. She was no longer there.

The fae had not forgotten you, nor had they forgiven. The moment you stepped into the village, whispers slithered through the wind, voices filled with contempt.

“The human has returned.”

“They dare come back after abandoning him?”

“Phainon will visit them. Let’s see if they still holds that promise.”

You barely had time to react before you felt it, an undeniable presence looming nearby. And then, from the shadows, he stepped forward.

Phainon stood before you, taller, sharper, his gaze piercing through you with unreadable intensity.

“You came back!” One evening, while wandering near the village, you stumbled upon a scene that made you pause. A beautiful fae woman, adorned in glistening silks and with eyes full of admiration, stood before Phainon, her voice carrying through the air.

“Phainon, you have become someone great. Would you consider taking me as your bonded one?”

A silence stretched between them before he replied, his tone cold and dismissive. “No.”

The fae woman's face twisted in disbelief. “Why? Is it because of the human?” Her gaze flickered in your direction before she turned on her heel and vanished into the night.

Later, you found Phainon sitting beneath the same ancient oak you used to share. Smirking, you teased “So, rejecting admirers now? You must be quite popular.”

He sighed, but the corner of his lips quirked slightly. “Their affections are meaningless.”

You nudged him playfully. “I dunno, she seemed quite taken with you.”

Phainon only looked at you, his gaze unreadable.

However, what you didn’t see was the seething anger lingering in the eyes of the rejected fae. She had seen the way Phainon looked at you, the way he reserved his softer moments for you alone. Her heart burned with jealousy, and she would not accept being cast aside so easily.

That night, something was slipped into your drink. A strange, shimmering liquid that clouded your vision and made your limbs feel weightless. Panic gripped you as the world spun, and before you could cry for help, only one name slipped from your lips.

“Phainon…”

He was there in an instant, catching you as you collapsed. His grip tightened as he caught the scent of foul magic laced within you.

“Who did this?” His voice was deathly quiet, but rage simmered beneath his words.

You barely managed to whisper “I... don't know.”

His expression turned lethal. Whoever dared to harm you would pay.

A flush spread across your cheeks, and your fingers instinctively gripped his cloak. "Phainon... I feel strange."

Realizing something was terribly wrong, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you inside your room as you buried your face against his chest, your breath ragged.

Laying you down on your bed, his fingers brushed your damp hair back, his gaze flickering with a mixture of worry and something deeper. "Focus on me." he whispered.

A strange, intoxicating need curled in your gut, making you shift restlessly. Your hand trailed up his arm, seeking warmth, grounding. He exhaled sharply, his resolve flickering. "Damn it" he muttered, reaching into his pouch with one hand while the other took out a dagger. He brought a bundle of crushed herbs to your lips. He used the dagger to cut his wrist, leaving blood flows upon your lips "Chew on this. Careful."

You obeyed, the bitterness jolting your senses. The fog clouding your mind slowly lifted, though your body still trembled with residual heat. Phainon's thumb brushed against your bottom lip as he ensured you swallowed the antidote, his eyes lingering on yours.

"Better?" His voice was quieter now, rough with restraint.

You nodded slowly, the frantic beating of your heart beginning to settle. "Phainon... thank you."

His fingers traced your cheek before he pulled away, visibly struggling with his emotions. "They won’t get away with this" he vowed. But the fae were relentless. The whispers started first, mocking murmurs whenever you walked through the village. "Pathetic human" one sneered. "Thinking you belong here just because Phainon protects you."

Another laughed cruelly. "He only pities you. Do you really think he’d ever choose a weak creature like you over his own kind?"

Shoves in the marketplace, stolen goods, malicious pranks that left bruises and cuts, each incident only added to the growing tension. When you confronted Phainon about it, he merely stared at you, his eyes unreadable. Then came the worst of it. You had been walking near the cliffs, taking in the salty air, when you felt an unnatural shove against your back. The world blurred as you teetered dangerously close to the edge. A voice whispered "Oops, did you slip?"

A shriek tore from your throat as you struggled to regain balance, the abyss below calling to you. Just as you began to fall, strong arms wrapped around you, yanking you back with inhuman speed. Phainon.

He turned to your attacker, his expression deathly cold. "You dare lay a hand on Y/n?" His voice was low, laced with a promise of suffering. The air crackled with an ominous energy, the fae responsible shrinking back in fear.

You clung to him. "Phainon, don't waste your energy on such matter."

But the damage was done. When you returned to the house, you made a firm decision. "I should leave" you said firmly. "If they keep coming after me, it’ll only put you at risk too."

"But... You promised me that we will be together forever." he whispered, brushing his fingers along your wrist, where your pulse trembled. "You said we'd never part. That no force in this world or the next could take you from me."

You didn't remember making such a promise. Forever? That word felt too large, too binding. Yet Phainon gazed at you with the certainty of someone who never forgot. His ethereal blue eyes shimmered in the dim light, holding you captive in their depths.

You tried to deny it, but a distant memory stirred, laughter echoing beneath the silver moon, hands clasped tight. Oh the naivety of youth. You hadn't thought it serious. But Phainon had.

"And now..." He raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingertips before turning your palm upward. A faint, sharp sting followed, his nail slicing just enough to draw a drop of crimson.

Your protest died on your lips when he did the same to himself, allowing a single droplet of his shimmering fae blood to meet yours. The moment they touched, the world shifted.

A searing warmth crawled through your veins, more intoxicating than fire, more binding than chains. Your breath hitched as unseen threads wove around your soul, pulling tight. You swayed, gripping Phainon's arm for balance, and he only smiled, his touch gentle, his eyes alight with triumph.

"It's done. I've been planning this for so long." He licked on your fresh wound, it healed almost immediately. His voice held no malice, only devotion "You are mine, as I am yours."

"Do you remember the night you drink my blood along with those herbs. I didn't expect them to act so careless. But lucky me, you didn't even doubt a thing. With this bond, you can never leave."

A chill ran through you, even as your senses sharpened. You could hear the whisper of leaves outside, feel the heartbeat of the forest in time with your own. You had changed.

The following days brought a drastic shift. Barriers of ancient magic wove around your grandmother’s house, binding you in an invisible cage. Phainon's voice carried over the wind "No matter what happens, you’re staying here. With me. Forever"

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #phainon x you #yandere phainon #phainon honkai star rail #hsr phainon #phainon hsr #phainon x reader #phainon #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #hsr x y/n #yandere honkai star rail

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 18 hours ago

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im not sure if this has been done before but... pilates princess! reader x gymbro! jason todd... mmmmm

18+

you two are total opposites but you both make it work so well. you're all girly, his little princess- all your equiment and yoga sets a pretty pink. he makes fun of you for your pink weights- but he finds it fucking adorable. he's all rough and buff, always in dark colours and lifting weights you couldn't fathom lifting if you tried. of course he was rich, so you each had your own little home studio/ spaces with all the equipment you could possibly think of. your studio was so cozy, covered in soft pinks and whites, and you had a beautiful window that overlooked the city. it was covered in plants too of course, that your cat liked to nibble on sometimes. you'd be doing moves on your reformer and with your tension bands and he'd always poke his head in and watch you. it was a little routine you had where whenever you guys took a quick break- stretch or water, you'd jog over and see what the other was doing, oftentimes (jason) would admire you in silence and just be in awe. the drastic change in music always made you giggle, but you knew jason loved your lana del rey.

watching him lift double- triple your weight made you weak in the knees, and he often made eye contact with you in the mirror with a smirk, knowing this turned you on. he'd always come over and pick you, swinging you like you were a ragdoll, making you shirek. he'd lift you up, but made it so you were turned to face the mirror, as he'd pound into you, leaving your feet to dangle in the air as he wrapped you in one arm around the waist.

"yeah baby you like that? you like watching me lift those big, strong weights- knowing i could just toss you around and do whatever i wanted with you? hm?" he'd always grunt in your ear, pressing you up against the glass.

"look at yourself in the mirror pretty girl. you take my cock so well princess, swallowing me all up. i'm all in your tummy- see?"

or when he'd come over and see you doing your stretches and he'd get so worked up from how you looked in those flare yoga pants he'd just pick you up and push you down on the reformer, yanking down your pants and just fucking you from behind, doggy style.

"sorry honey, didn't mean to interupt your workout, you just look so fuckin hot. couldn't help myself."

and he'd pound into you so hard you'd start drooling, your eyes rolled back in your head and you'd go all into subspace, calling him daddy- which would just rile him up even more.

"look atcha baby. what a mess for daddy, hm princess? such a little slut." even though he was the one who came and fucked you...

mini moodboard- pictures don't represent what reader looks like or anything!<3

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd fic #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd dc #jason todd drabble #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #dc jason todd #dc comics #dc universe #red hood fanfiction #redhood jason todd

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wakasaswifee · 3 days ago

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write pls an one shot where isagi wins a match and reader suck him in the locker room

Winner's prize | Isagi yoichi | 18+

✎...In where your boyfriend Isagi Yoichi wins a game and can't help but want a little bit of... appreciation from you. ✎...Isagi yoichi x reader | blue lock ✎...Tags/TWS: Explicit content,All characters aged up, oral ✎...WC:1.3k ✎...A/N: I'm so sorry to anon, this was sitting in my inbox for over a month, I had exams so I was busy with that and had no time to write other than a few short stories here and there. hope you like it!

Isagi yoichi knew he’d win. He felt it, he knew the winning goal would go to his team and he’d be the one scoring it; and what more, his sweet, precious girlfriend came all the way from home to support him, screaming his name. So he had no choice but to win, he couldn’t disappoint his girl.

°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °

The game had ended, after a few interviews here and there; you ran up to yoichi, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. The salty smell of sweat mixed with his cologne invaded your nose, which you don’t know why but you loved it.

“Ahh, doll, ‘m sweaty, don’t cling” he chuckled playfully. A blush crept up your face as the flashes of the camera’s went off.

Isagi couldn’t help but laugh at your expression, kissing your cheek.

“It’s okay. Ignore them.”

Running his calloused hand through his soft hair, keeping a protective arm around your waist.

“Let’s go, y/n. Let me shower and change and i’ll come and we’ll eat out to celebrate, yeah? Sound good?”

You grinned, nodding up at him.

You were confused as he started walking off the field, pulling you along with him.

“Yoichi?”

“Doll, ‘m not gonna leave you out here all alone, wait outside the change room, it’ll make it easier to make sure no one tries anything”

He wasn’t trying to be an asshole but due to previous incidents, he liked keeping you close to him, to make sure no crazy fan attacks you when he isn’t present.

You looked up at him, he looked.. Ethereal, especially after his games. Sweat glistened on his face and neck. His hair damp and pushed back, a few loose strands hanging over his face. If one were to define perfection, they’d see a picture of isagi’s side profile- no scratch that, they’d see a picture of isagi’s face beside it.

“I’ll be out in 10 minutes, wait here, okay?” He kissed you softly.

You sat on the wooden bench outside the change rooms. Pulling out your phone to watch edits of your otherworldly boyfriend.

°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °

You were confused, again. It’d been over 25 minutes, at first you thought maybe he was talking with his teammates or maybe taking a minute or 2 for himself but after you saw his teammates leave one after another, till the change rooms were empty, you were left puzzled.

Slightly pushing the door open, just a peek to see inside. It was empty. You carefully opened the door and stepped inside as if there’s a landmine in the area.

The door clicked behind you; looking around, the room was empty.

You took slow, careful steps, till the faint noise of water running and.. skin slapping?

You made your way towards the sound, turning the corner to find isagi's back facing you, water dripped down his sculpted back and shoulders.

His hand was clenched into a fist against the wall, veins straining beneath his skin, while his other hand moved at an even pace between his thighs.

Your breath caught in your throat making your mouth go dry, heat rushing to your core.

“‘Ichi..?” the soft hush of your voice snapped Yoichi out of his trance. Turning his head to find his poor confused girlfriend standing by the entrance of the shower.

“Ah.. fuck, doll.. M’ sorry, i totally fo-”

“Why are you.. Doing.. That?”

He sighed, letting go of his needy cock to turn off the shower. He neared you, the light taps of his footsteps against the wet tiles echoed. You took a few steps back, an unknown feeling of excitement coursed through your body. You’d never seen isagi like this. Such a chilling look plastered on his face. Did you say something you shouldn’t have?

He closed the distance between the both of you. Subconsciously you tilted your head to look him eye to eye.

“‘Is cause of you, doll.. You don’t know what you do to me.” he placed a hand on your shoulder, the cold water sending chills down your spine. His hair falling over his eyes, drops of water falling from them, hitting his abs. Something burned inside of you and you wanted to chase it.

“And.. since you started this.. It’s quite convenient you came in here because now you can finish what you started and I also deserve a reward for winning the game for you, don’t i? ” The cruel grin you knew all too well made an appearance and before you knew it, your knees hit the ground making you wince. Looking up to see isagi’s fat, leaking cock hanging in your face like a taunting bait.

I mean.. He’s right, isn’t he? He won the game for his sweet little girlfriend, so he should get something in return from you, right?

You looked up at him through your lashes before sticking out your tongue, licking the underside of his cock as precum dripped down it and landed on your tongue. Yoichi hissed at the pleasure of something other than his hand coming in contact with his cock.

He put his hand through your hair, tugging at the back of it.

“C’mon, no teasing, baby” he whined as if he didn't have the upperhand and could choke you with his cock whenever he wanted.

You rolled your eyes, licking the tip. Keeping your tongue out as you took him in, hollowing out your cheeks. Every inch you took in was another groan out of isagi, till it hit the back of your throat, making you gag, earning a loud moan out of your bf. Warm tears pricked your eyes - in contrast to his cold skin - isagi tried calming you down with sweet words.

“Oh, baby, look at you, you’re doing so well. My cock is balls deep down your throat. I'm so proud of you, yeah? Show me how good you are by actually sucking it. You’re doing so so good, doll”

He coos, a familiar gentleness lacing his tone.

You slowly pulled back and went back down. His balls touching your chin. Slowly picking up the pace, the faster you bobbed your head on his veiny shaft, the more verbal he got. His hands tugging at the very roots of your hair.

Every time you were about to pull away due to the lack of oxygen, he would push your head back down, harsher than the last. Tears rolled down your face and dripped down onto your thighs.

The slick mess in your lace panties distracted you from the task at hand. You squirmed feeling discomfort but not being able to go anywhere else but his cock.

The constant abuse to the roof of your mouth and the back of your throat persisted, as isagi used your pretty mouth as a fleshlight. Your jaw going numb and precum coated your lips, keeping them soft enough to glide across his length.

At some point, you stopped doing the work, only holding onto his thighs, letting him play with you. Using your hair to control your movements. Every once in a while when you look up, you’d see him throwing his head back, groaning and grunting your name or smirking at your pathetic expression.

It wasn’t long before he came, holding your head down so you had no choice but to get a mouthful of his cum. The mixture of saliva and cum dripped down your chin.

“Swallow, baby” isagi’s breathy voice reached you, swallowing up the salty white liquid. When isagi felt your throat clench around his tip, he finally pulled out, letting you gasp in the air you desperately needed.

“Sorry sweetheart.. I might’ve kinda gotten carried away..”

“Kinda?” you grumbled in a hoarse voice, getting a laugh out of isagi, he pulled you up to your feet,

“Forgive me?” he mumbled against your ear, wrapping his arms around your body.

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theetherealbloom · 1 day ago

Text

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there in irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.

You didn’t notice him watching you.

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.

He felt something tighten in his chest.

God, you made him feel strange.

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.

His response came almost immediately.

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.

You: Are you sure?

Pedro: Obviously.

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

Pedro noticed.

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.

And then, of course, there was the teasing.

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."

He smirked. "Clearly."

"Don’t judge me."

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Your heart stuttered.

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."

You told yourself not to react.

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”

You had only sighed. “I know.”

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”

His brows knit together. “You okay?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”

Pedro didn’t look convinced.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then—

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.

You hesitated.

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”

Cecilia.

You felt your whole body go rigid.

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”

You swallowed hard.

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”

The implication was clear.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.

But then—

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”

Cecilia’s smile faltered.

It was subtle, but you caught it.

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.

Warm. Steady.

Grounding.

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. “What?”

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”

Your stomach twisted.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”

Pedro stopped walking.

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”

You swallowed.

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”

A lump formed in your throat.

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”

You snorted. “So dramatic.”

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.

Your stomach flipped.

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”

“Maybe.”

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”

Something in you wavered.

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”

Your breath hitched.

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”

Something tightened in your chest.

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

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