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goldeunoias · 5 months ago

Text

Favorite Student.

WARNINGS: YES THIS IS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT FUCKING IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT DON'T READ IT. both of yall are adults i think like 22 and 28 or something like that so it's not like the worst of the worst but yes. there are power dynamics blah blah, sunghoon is massive pervert, ITS ALL FICTION YALL

um includes....perverted sunghoon, eating out, teasing, pet names, sex in an office, fingering, it's me so ya know

Synopsis: A class you'd hated, but a professor you'd always admired...

A/N: DAISY BACKKKKK

SUNGHOON STANS ARE THE BESTTTTT at writing and giving me anons and feedback and comments and reblogs which is why I will always spoil them bc they treat me the best <333. next fic is a heeseung one sooo if you want more heeseung content make sure to give that one as much love too when it comes out!

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He was the meanest professor around, bar none.

But in your current predicament, he was the only professor left for the class you needed to take, unless you wanted to wait and thus delay your graduation by a whole semester.

That's how you found yourself standing outside his office, swinging back and forth on your heels, trying to get the courage to go in and ask him for help on the chapter that seemed like no one in your class was getting, you included.

"What are you doing standing outside my office?"

At the sound of his voice you jumped and turned around, heart racing in your ears as you tried to give him some eye contact; ultimately failing miserably.

"U-Um, I needed help with chapter 14 in the textbook and no one in my section really got it either so I figured I'd stop by-"

"Did you look at the lecture notes?"

"Y-yes sir."

"The supplemental videos?"

You nodded again.

Dr. Park sighed and moved past you to unlock his office door, letting the door swing shut past you as you walked in. The vibes of his room was austere to say the least and you couldn't tell if anyone had ever sat in the chair across from him given how spotless and un-creased it was.

Well, first time for everything.

"So what are you needing help with? Do you have any notes or something?"

"U-uh yes sir, give me a sec," you stuttered out as you fidgeted with your bag to pull out your laptop, showing him all that you had done.

He leaned on his side of the thick oak desk so he could get a closer look at what you had done, the closer proximity causing cologne you could only surmise to be expensive filling your nose. You fidgeted in your seat and moved some to lower your skirt as it rode up, trying to think of something to fill the awkward silence as he scrolled through what you had done.

Luckily, he beat you to it.

"Well, it's not the worst thing I've seen." He sighed, taking off his glasses and pointing to your screen. "You still aren't understanding the basic concepts of this chapter yet and it's reflecting in your notes. You see this summary outline you wrote here is-"

Your eyes absentmindedly drifted to his alabaster forearms that were shown from the rolled up sleeves of his button up, thick large hands scrolling on your keyboard. His jaw and nose were sharp too and from the closeness you could make out his dark lashes, usually hidden by the thick framed glasses he wore.....

You were jolted out of your thoughts when he snapped his fingers in front of your face, eyebrows knitted in annoyance at you wasting his time by daydreaming.

"If you're going to come to my office I would think you'd listen to what I have to say," Sunghoon said through a clucked tongue.

You looked down and immediately apologized profusely, feeling tears well in your eyes. You weren't the best with scolding you never had been, but to have someone who was already not in the best of moods have it become worse because of you only made you more sensitive.

He looked at you from across the desk, a grown girl with mannerisms like that of a meek fawn.

A prey.

You swallowed thickly as he stood up and leaned over the desk, strands of mahogany hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you.

"Hey hey, don't cry, we'll work through it together mmkay? You're a smart girl aren't you?"

It was a voice you'd never heard him use on anyone, and it made the hairs on your neck stand up and your legs squirm as he held your chin.

"I'm sorry it's just this is one of my final classes I need to graduate and everything is hard and I don't want to waste your time-"

"Aw, princess don't stress, don't stress," he cooed. The sweet and gentle tone of his voice was causing you to melt into his touch, wondering how someone who usually only spoke in stern curt sentences could produce such sounds.

You couldn't stop bouncing your legs and squirming in your seat as his fingertips stroked the underside of your chin softly, making soft shushes and coos at you to calm your nerves.

Fuck, he wanted to ruin you.

But he had to wait for you to make the move. He was in the precarious position and even though he could see in your gaze that you were begging for it, you were going to have to show him.

A little teasing should do the trick.

"Here, we have some time before the next test don't we? Start coming by my office everyday and we can work through this unit together so you won't have to worry alright" he offered up, sitting back down in his office chair with a soft smile on his face.

You sniffled and nodded at the premise before rushing out a plethora of "thank you"s to him, unable to stop the tingling on your chin from where he had touched you as he left........

_________________________________

"Here sweetheart move your chair over to my side of the desk so you can get a better look at my screen," he offered up, moving his chair over some to make some room.

"O-okay sure," you agreed, the name "sweetheart" ringing throughout your head. Had he always used that nickname for you? Or was he just using it as a coverup for forgetting your name? Whatever the reason, your mind was spinning in circles at the gentle way he said it.

“Cmon, you can come a little closer than that, I don’t bite ya know”, he hummed, pulling your chair closer to his. You nodded because you didn’t trust your voice and your mind couldn’t stop wandering to how large his hands looked as he pointed out errors in the extra assignments he’d given you, talking you softly through each one.

"Does that make sense?" he inquired gently, placing his head on your thigh and squeezing it. The contact made you jolt in your skin and you gulped before profusely nodding, truly able to grasp just how large his hands were as they sat on your plush thigh.

"Good girl, see you had no reason to be so worried, your work is been improving exponentially".

"T-thank you sir. I have to go to my next class now...." you trailed off awkwardly, fidgeting in your seat.

He smiled and stood up, waiting for you to do the same before escorting you to his door.

"Of course. Same time tomorrow?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, scurrying out of his office. You made a b-line to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face, wondering if there was anything that gave away just how flustered you truly were in his proximity.

How can someone be so cute? Sunghoon hummed to himself as he sat at his desk, fiddling with his pen. His own hand still buzzed with excitement at how soft and warm your thigh was, and his mind couldn't help but trail further down a rabbit hole.

For the next month it seemed Sunghoon had only gotten friendlier and friendlier: you found out that he had a dog which he adored and would bring to the office if he was allowed to, that he had a younger sister, used to compete in sports (which you could attribute to his frame), and really liked fashion.

All the while, Sungoon used every opportunity to get you used to his touch; the stroking of your ear during one session, the soft touch of your shoulder the next. Every time you'd jolt before absentmindedly melting into it, and before you knew it you find yourself craving his touch.

You didn't dare your friends or anyone around you of your extra tutoring sessions, or that his hands were somehow find themself on yours. Surely you should be disgusted at yourself instead of electrified by the touches he leaves on you right?

But those thoughts would always disappear every time you walked into his office.

"So sorry I'm late!" you rushed out as you stepped into his office, panting from having sprinted up the stairs to get here.

Sunghoon looked up from the papers at his desk and smiled, flickering his head to come sit down.

"It's okay sweetheart don't worry," he hummed, trying to pull his eyes away from the sheen the shone on your neck.

"I've been so frazzled lately I hope you're not too mad at me being late," you rushed out, practically stumbling over to sit down in your chair.

He hummed and stared at your plush thighs that clung to the leather of the chair and watched as you shifted to prevent them sticking, getting flustered when you saw he was watching you.

"Sorry, I'm a bit sticky it's a bit warm outside, s-should I just stand instead?" you offered up quickly, standing up and fixing your sundress.

"Why don't you sit on my desk instead then? Here let me move these papers out of you way-"

"W-won't I get the desk dirty since I'm all sweaty" you interjected, heart racing as he cleared his desk off for you, making space so you'd have no choice but to sit right in front of his chair.

"Don't worry about it, now be a good girl and come sit," he cooed, giving you eyes that almost dared you to disobey him. Quickly you went over and sat on his desk, swallowing thickly when Sunghoon began massaging your calves as he removed your shoes.

"Poor baby rushed over to our tutoring session, your legs must be exhausted and aching," he soothed, tender hands working into the soft flesh of your skin.

"Only s-slightly, it's fine I"m used to it," you excused, squirming as Sunghoon leaned closer to your skin. "Is this something a professor should be um...doing, I mean I know we've gotten close b-but.." you trailed off, yelping when Sunghoon dragged his lips against your knee.

"Then tell me to stop kitten," he taunted, kissing the inner of your thighs as he slid off your other shoe, looking up at you through framed lenses.

"You're not stupid baby, your test grades prove that well enough. Surely you kept coming to our lessons hoping it'd end up like this," he continued, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he pulled you closer against his face.

"I...I don't know," was all you could muster out, toes curling as he softly kissed your inner thighs. Sunghoon chuckled under his breath and stood up, pushing you down onto his desk as he took of his glasses.

The air was knocked out of you for a second as you lay splayed on the desk, the cool hardwood being a stark contrast to your sticky skin.

“It’s okay baby,” he leaned in, licking the sweat from your neck. “It’s okay to say you like doing perverted things with me. Go on, tell your professor how much you like it”, he cooed, rubbing your puffy clit with his thumb.

You whined as felt something tightening in your tummy, mustering up the courage to speak.

“I-I like it”, you choked out, your toes curling in your tube socks as you started to feel how thick his fingers really were.

“Awww, give me more than that yeah? Tell me exactly what you like.” He couldn’t help himself. He wanted you to profess all types of profanities through hazy eyes and shaky legs, for you to beg to be ruined and defiled by him.

“I like..doing perverted things with you.” You felt your face burn as you stumbled your way through the sentence, rutting your hips into a feeling that only got tighter.

“Aw you do? Well in that case let me teach my princess all the perverted things we can do together..." he trailed off, squeezing the side of your thighs.

"Good girl~, such a good girl~" Sunghoon cooed, lifting up the hem of your sundress. "Cute panties," he drawled as his index finger slid down the slit, pressing against the sticky wet patch. "Mind if I keep them?"

You couldn't help but buck your hips into the feeling as you nodded without a second thought, your nails digging into the gloss furnish of his desk.

"Sweetheart you shouldn't agree to everything I say," he spoke, cupping your heat in his hand and massaging it. You gripped onto his shoulders instead and whimpered into his chest as you felt trickles of wetness soak your cotton underwear, meak "I'm sorry"s leaving you.

"It's okay, it's okay, don't apologize. It's just," he moved the hair covering your ear with his mouth before kissing against it, letting out deep groans as he rutted himself against you.

"there are some bad people out there, waiting to take advantage of pretty young girls like you. Are you going to spread your legs for everyone?"

"No, it's j-just because it's...you," you whimpered against his chest.

Sunghoon sucked air through his teeth as his self control unraveled at the seams.

"Because it's me?" he inquired, kneeling down so he was eye-level with your soaked core, messing with the hem of your panties.

"Wait Ihaven'tshoweredso-" your legs shook around his head as his tongue pressed against the soaked wet patch of your underwear, groaning at the taste that trickled onto his tongue.

"Is that why you taste and smell so sweet princess?" He groaned, pulling your underwear down without a second thought to expose yourself barren to him, his cock twitching in his pants at how sticky you already were.

"Here hold my hand sweetheart, squeeze it as hard as you like," he cooed as he offered up his free hand to you. You obliged immediately and squeezed his digits as his other free hand rubbed softly against your swollen clit, leaving light kisses on the puffy bud.

You let out meek "I'm sorry"s as your nails dug into the alabaster skin of his hand, struggling to keep yourself still as you felt the warmth of his lips wrap around your clit before sucking softly.

"It's okay princess, just sink into the feeling, I'm going to make you feel so so good," he groaned between your legs. You nodded and felt your eyes flutter into the back your head as you felt every ridge of his tongue against your entrance, saliva mixing with arousal as he lapped up everything you gave him.

The pleasure only increased as he wantonly hummed around your bud, Sunghoon drunk off of how sweet and syrupy you tasted on his tongue.

Sunghoon was doing his best to not just pin you to the desk and fuck the daylights of you, not understanding how someone could be so intoxicating. Every thing from your little gasps of air to the whimpers you were trying to hide in your throat were making him dizzy, desperate even.

"Your hole is twitching every time I suck your clit princess," Sunghoon remarked as he came up for air, licking his lips clean. "It must want something in it huh?" he drawled, sliding two thick digits into you. Your back arched off the desk as you felt the tight stretch between your legs, your hands going to squeeze his wrist you whimpered.

"Oh no no baby, don't try to move away from it. Take it like a good girl, like my favorite student would," Sunghoon praised as he scissored his fingers inside of you, chuckling at how droplets of arousal leaked out.

Hearing him say you're his favorite student made your heart thrum in excitement, your thighs tensing up when the pads of his fingers pressed down against the spongy part of your walls.

"Pull your sundress down and play with your chest for me princess," Sunghoon ordered gently as he moved to the skin of your neck, infatuated with how he could feel your heart beating through his kisses. "Do it like how you do it when you're in your bed all alone, fingers between your legs..." he whispered against your ear, unable to hide his grin.

Your body felt unbearably hot as you whimpered and complied, pulling down the straps of your sundress and moving your bra. Your legs inexplicably shook as you tugged the pert buds, biting down on your lip as Sunghoon sped up the pace of his fingers.

Sunghoon made a mental note of your movements so he could replicate them next time, his mouth getting hungry as his mouth encircled a free nipple.

You spasmed slightly at his movements as you felt his coarse tongue suck and lick around the sensitive skin, making a point to hold eye contact with you any time your stare met his. Coupled with the gushing sounds he heard between your legs only got more turned on, leaving deep marks on your chest he was sure would last for days.

He couldn't help it, he was getting impatient, desperate to have you whimpering out his name and begging for him to ruin you in this godforsaken sundress.

"Fuck~ you're gonna get me in so much fucking trouble," Sunghoon groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers. "I'm sorry baby but I can't let you come from just some fingering now can I?" he teased.

The eyes you gave him almost broke him down right there as he pulled out his digits and sucked them clean, unbuckling his belt with the other. On any other occasion he'd love to have you on your knees trying to fit him in your soft mouth, but his patience for that was long gone.

Your eyes enlarged as you watched his member spring free and press against his lower abdomen, Sunghoon hissing through his teeth as he stroked the reddened tip.

"Don't worry princess, we're gonna make it fit okay? Even if you are this tight," he reassured teasingly, kissing your temple as he pinned both your hands in one of his.

"Y-you don't need a condom" you choked out.

Sunghoon raised brows and chuckled at the fact such a statement could come from such a timid mouth of yours, ripping it with his teeth and putting it on regardless.

"Mmm of course I do sweetheart," he cooed, rubbing his length between your folds. Even through the condom you could feel how warm and heavy his member felt between your legs, your mind racing at the fact that you were going to have sex with your professor.

"Besides, if I came inside would you be able to keep my load inside you like a good girl? We can't have a mess in my office now can we?" he drawled in your ear, pushing his thick tip past your walls. You already felt a stretch that was incomparable to his fingers and started struggling against his grip, Sunghoon only laughing at you and tightening his hold even more.

"Shhhh don't run princess, don't run, this is how it feels to be fucked by a real man yeah? No college guy could find my baby's special spot like I could," he soothed, finding it so cute how you sucked on your bottom lip to cope with the stretch.

You raised your head slightly to discover that he was only halfway in, despite how full your lower belly felt. When Sunghoon saw your widened eyes he could only pout at you, finding you absolutely adorable.

And adorable things deserved to be ruined.

"Here princess, kiss me yeah?"

Shakily you reached up some and connected your lips with his, jolting against his mouth as Sunghoon had taken the opportunity to push himself to the hilt.

"P-professor" was all you could whine out as you felt your mind go dazy, Sunghoon using the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me princess, such a good girl," Sunghoon praised softly in between kisses. He knew once he started moving his hips you'd be a goner, already evident by how dazy your eyes looked when he stared into them.

You felt his tip push against the entrance of your cervix and you couldn't help but let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, biting down on Sunghoon's shoulder to cope with the heavy sensation in your tummy.

"Hello? Mr. Park are you in your office?"

Your eyes widened and you went to move to hide, recognizing the voice as your fellow classmate. Sunghoon only laughed at your attempts and pinned your wrists, giving you a "shh" motion as he continued pressing his hips against yours.

"Yeah, I'm here. However if my door is closed that means office hours are also closed correct?" he tsked, sucking a breath between his teeth as you clenched down around him.

Despite his seemingly calm composure you had your mouth squeezed shut feeling a tight knot start to form.

Your legs shook as you tried tapping his wrist with your bound hands, Sunghoon cooing at you softly and kissing your cheek.

"I know you're close baby, I know I know, just hold out for a bit longer mmkay? I'll take care of you, I will."

You could only nod as your face scrunched up from holding back your moans, desperately wondering why this student was so keen on getting into the office of one of the most stubborn people alive.

"I know, but there's this problem I really-"

"Rules are rules" he interjected, taking out his point on you by an extra forceful snap of his hips. Yours nails digged into your own skin as you tried to follow your professors wishes and hold out just a bit longer for him, softly whispering his name to garner his attention.

“Just a bit longer,” he shushed warmly, kissing your temple as he listened to the footsteps outside the door. Sure enough there was a sigh, followed by the sound of sneakers against the tile floor and the student walked away, Sunghoon relinquishing his grip on you and slowly speeding up his hips.

“P-Professor my tummy," was all you could manage out, squirming as you felt the knot get tighter.

"Mmm, you feel the pressure building right here?" Sunghoon couldn't help but tease, firmly pushing down on your lower belly. Your nails left red marks down his back and chest as you gasped at the feeling, mind slowly entering a point of incoherence.

You hazily nodded and felt your toes curl as Sunghoon peppered your neck with open mouth kisses, unable to stop himself from marking you.

"I'm close too princess, hold on just a bit longer for me and we can come together yeah? C'mon, I know you can," Sunghoon purred as his hips only sped up faster, raising your lower back slightly make sure he hit your spot every single time.

You could only hold your breath and scrunch your face as you tried warding off the feeling that was only getting stronger. Sunghoon's own resolve had withered away as he bit down on his bottom lip to suppress the groan that would be heard by the whole hallway, sweat on his entire body as you squeezed down on him like a vice.

"Fuck~ princess, go ahead and let loose for me."

You felt your mind go blank as the knot snapped tighter than you were anticipating, having to suppress your moans by burying yourself into Sunghoon's neck as liquid gushed from between your legs and your walls pulsed around sporadically.

Sunghoon's came shortly thereafter by burying his face in your own neck, his breathing ragged and uneven as he lay shaking on top of you.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you and your mind started swimming at what you'd just done and the mess you'd just made, knowing that if your ancestors were ever to watch you they'd hang their heads in shame.

Yet, that didn't stop you from wanting to do it again.

"Professor," you began, refusing to make eye contact with him after what you'd just done.

"Mmmm yes sweetheart?" Sunghoon cooed as he slowly pulled out, his collarbones and forehead glistening with sweat as he hid the evidence.

"Next time, I-I wanna do it...at your place," you offered up. This was a dangerous and well, a fireable request, you both knew that. However, that didn't stop Sunghoon from bending down to kiss your collarbones and chin, beaming it with happiness.

"I think I'd quite like that arrangement princess."

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fanfic #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon smut #sunghoon fanfic

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pseudowho · 5 months ago

Note

okay here’s me getting all cocky and confident because you answered my ask once (ily for that seriously i think i screamed and fainted and sobbed and climbed up the walls a little) and once again asking you for….. for crumbs………. so my horny self was sitting and thinking…………… nanami sees you reading absolute filth and porn and you end up in biig trouble.. (i.e him doing that exact thing to you 😭) or perhaps you going up to nanami after reading absolute filth and being all needy with him bcs that straight porn made you a liittle…….. yk… 🌚🌚🌚

anyways i literally love you and ur my favorite writer ever and im gonna stop now before i burst

SMUT [smuht] (noun)

In which Nanami Kento catches you reading dirty literature...and punishes you with a performative reading.

Warnings: The anon who keeps targeting me like this needs a warning label...but otherwise: roleplay, erotic literature (*laughs and laughs in Tumblr*) being read to you while you're systematically destroyed, performative Bad!Nanami, Kento fucks you wearing a mask and leather gloves, Pleasure Dom!Kento who gets lost in the sauce, reader way out of her depth, bondage, the usual spicy goodness, couple of cheeky movie references

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The one she knew only as the Man in the Mask swept over to her, delighting in her capture, having evaded him for so long.

"Ahhh..." he sighed, his breath sweeping over the swell of her breasts, and sending shivers down her spine. "Finally...the little mouse who has wreaked havoc on my dreams for too many lonely nights. How does it feel? To be trapped here with me like this?"

Her heart stalled in her chest, and she gasped, his grazing touch to her belly leaving embers in its wake. The Man in the Mask saw her nipples pebble beneath her shirt, and felt something snap inside him as he loomed over her with a whisper; "I know. I feel it too."

With little warning, he lowered his barely covered mouth to her neck, hungry against her, and--

The door opened, and you leapt out of your skin, dropping your phone to the floor. You sat bolt upright in bed, your other hand coming up guiltily from beneath the covers as Kento leaned into the bedroom to greet you. You interrupted him.

"You're home early," you said, offering an unconvincing smile. Kento looked at you, flatly. He let the statement hang for a moment. His shrewd eyes flicked, taking in the glossy subtleties he saw from you only in foreplay.

"...well I thought you'd be pleased, but I'll just go back then shall I--"

You hesitated, words caught in your throat. Your eyes flickered to your phone. So did Kento's. His eyes narrowed.

"...what are you read--"

"Nothing! It's nothing." You lied, unconvincing. You both hesitated for a moment more, before Kento darted. You cursed at him for being faster than you, and Kento's fingers closed around your phone, sitting beside you on the bed in one swift movement. You smothered a pillow over your face, screaming silently, wanting the duvet to grow great maws and swallow you whole.

Kento read silently for a moment, scrolling, before reading aloud; "...she didn't want to fight anymore, as his fingers slid between her puffy lips...goodness me...his cock strained against the fabric of his clothes, begging for attention...I bet it did..."

You had begun to crawl away down the bed, just a maggot, unworthy of the sun and all its glories.

You felt a hand clasp around your ankle, and you squeaked as Kento dragged you back up the bed, without even taking his eyes off your phone.

"I don't think so, where are you going--"

"--oh god Kento just give me something for the cringe and let me die--"

"--no no no I'm blessed to be a part of my wife's interests--"

"--I am less than human, we need a divorce, I can't look you in the eye ever again--"

Kento scoffed, dark and derisive. "As if I'd let you divorce me. As if you'd even want to...now, where did I put that..."

Kento stood, still holding your phone as he rummaged in his dresser. You laid flat to the bed, trying to wiggle away again, still embarrassingly wet, your mortification laced with undeniable arousal.

"Stay exactly where you are, or I'll damn well make you."

You stopped. You looked up at Kento, unusually meek, as he approached you. He stood by the bed, looming and powerful, a god made flesh. He unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, not bothering to remove his harness. He undid his belt with a clink-clink. He let his tie hang loose...and pulled a black balaclava down to beneath his collar. He finished off with a pair of soft, black leather gloves.

Something imploded inside you; a dial-up noise in your mind. Kento prowled over to you, looming over you and chasing you up the bed, caging you beneath him, and reading through the smut on your phone screen.

"Be honest," Kento read aloud, his honey-brown eyes swirling with something altogether darker and more dangerous, "if you'd wanted to escape me...you could have."

You panted, breathless, your pupils blown into inky black as you lay splayed beneath Kento. You couldn't help but be captivated, lost in his insidious pull. You felt your heartbeat between your legs.

"Did you stay because you dream of me, too?" Kento intoned. You bit the poisoned apple, trembling as you nodded up at him. "Did you stay...because you wondered if hatred was as erotic a passion as love?"

"--Kento, I-- let me go, I--"

"That's the spirit." Laughed Kento, his voice booming through you, the vibrations crackling across every nerve, and you whimpered. Kento grasped your hands together with his own, gloved and powerful, pinning them above your head with the whole weight of his body. He pulled his tie loose with the hand holding your phone.

"I can't let you leave...not now. Fuck...you have no idea what you do to me, do you?" Kento growled. Being the villain seemed so effortless to him. Your safe word had never been further from your mind, your attempts to leave so paltry and insincere. The way Kento looked down at you, waiting to see if you would make him stop, sent shivers down your spine. Kento released his tie, eyes skimming across your phone for confirmation.

"I'd apologise, for trapping you here like this..." Kento intoned, tying your bound wrists to the head of the bed as you squirmed, crying out in anguish, "...but I'll show you...how you've craved my touch, just as I have craved yours." You strained against the bonds, in just the silky chemise you wore for bed, and it didn't take much for your breasts to fall free of the fine little straps.

In truth, Kento had never been harder in his life. Seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted embarrassed squirms brushing your bare mound against his aching, thick cock...and your nipples, hard as diamonds and covered by a thin veneer of lace. His breaths were heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading.

"Just one taste, and we can return to how it was before." Kento groaned, his mouth suckling at your neck, licking, tasting, biting. You cringed against the assault on your senses, afraid to lose yourself to such diabolical pleasure. Kento pinned your bucking hips down with his own, the tip of his cock trapped beneath his waistband against his belly. "Just once...and we can rest easy at night, knowing how it feels for me to spend myself inside you."

You keened, mewling as Kento rested the phone on the pillow beside your head, and took your nipple into his mouth, ragging it around beneath his tongue with a fractured growl. Your head spun with the weight of him, totally captured, so wildly out of control. The suckling pleasure he gave to your nipples, connected in a fine thread to your clit, making it pulse with vicarious bliss.

"I can't...can't take it anymore...Ken--" You moaned, squeaking as his teeth closed in barely hinged warning around your breast.

"Unless it's to tell me to fuck you, I won't have you mewl like a kitten at me any longer." Kento rumbled against your breast, wet with his spit and the marks he left behind as he took what he was owed. "I hope you can take it. I'm...no small man. If you are ruined, after, I know you will bear the scars with grace, just as you have bore your hatred of me."

You were already so steeped in the hot rush of being pleasured, you did not notice how Kento's eyes glowered, lathering down your body and darting occasionally back to your phone. He continued his pilgrimage down your body. Kento growled in frustration at the chemise blocking him, and he rucked it up, spitting curses as you squeaked, wriggling against him.

"At least fight like you mean it." Kento laughed, and you blushed, eyes squeezed shut, mortified by how obviously faked your resistance was. Kento kissed his way down your belly, settling at your mound. He hovered, silent, giving your desperate clit nought but the breath from his lips.

"Do you want my fingers...or my mouth?" You whimpered again, babbling nonsense, such a rough and ruined heroine. Kento laughed again, dark and delicious, raising his mask just enough to free his mouth. "No words? No matter. You shall have both."

With little warning, Kento sunk his tongue between your folds, ragging his mouth and nose from side to side again to bury himself in the heat of you. You cried out as he growled into your heat, hitting a high note as he sunk two thick, gloved fingers into your fluttering pussy, slamming inside all the way to his knuckles.

Kento swore against your pussy, grunting and moaning as he lapped at your clit and entrance with animalistic rage. Quite canonically to his role, his cock wept against his belly, pre-cum leaking down onto his waistband until the fabric was cloying and sticky, the friction against his tip sending him spiralling. He couldn't help but fuck against the bed as you melted beneath him, writhing against his tongue.

Panting, letting his gloved fingers fuck into you and imagining it was his cock instead, Kento chuckled against your clit, at just how easily he had snapped. He pulled his fingers out of you for a moment, wickedly obsessed by the stark contrast of your creamy white arousal on the black leather.

He could smell you on the balaclava, the fabric over his nose soaking with your essence. Kento felt lightheaded with the blooming, heady scent of you. His cock twitched, aching and neglected, and so close to spilling thick spurts of seed all over its owner.

You risked looking down for just a moment. The eyes of a villain pierced through you, as Kento licked his gloves clean, not breaking eye contact once. You whimpered. He laughed, and curled his fingers back into you, continuing his relentless attack on your poor, aching cunt. Your moans reached a fever pitch, and Kento felt the creep of his own orgasm through his belly as he rutted against the bed with total abandon.

"Sing for me." He groaned, lifting your hips off the bed as he knelt, sucking your clit into his mouth in a devastating final move. You tipped violently over the edge, bucking against his tongue and crying his name, a stream of nonsensical babbles. Kento was quite sure you came harder than the girl in the story.

By the time you came back to earth, being licked in slow, languid movements through your peak, you saw Kento kneeling between your legs, stroking his cock in long, jerking pumps.

"You've reduced me to this." Kento forced, his teeth gritted and his mask back in place over his mouth. "To this...this boy, fucking his own fist just from the taste of you." Kento cursed, his gloved fist wet with pre-cum, cracking his neck from side to side and growling through his lurid tale. You lay, fucked out, bound, a fascinated by how Kento's whiskey-rich voice could fill you with fumes, warm and drunk one minute, but cold and piercing the next. You swung, manoeuvred across his harsh dichotomy.

Kento loomed over you, trapping you beneath him again, blocking the light from your eyes, a bad moon rising. "You did this to me." He hissed, accusatory in his possession of you. "You started this sordid fight. But I'll finish it. No more fisting my cock at night just to the thought of you. No more dreaming about bending you to my will."

You felt Kento's tip press through your entrance, thick and insistent enough that you squirmed up the bed, crying out as he yanked you back, his hands closing around your waist. Kento plaited his fingers in your tied hands, the ghost of affection, and readying himself to slam into your quivering heat. He was falling apart, he could barely contain himself, overcome by the raw power of making you pliable, shaping you to his desires--

Kento whispered in your ear, his voice shaking, gravelly; "And when you submit...know that it was entirely your fault."

You felt your delicate petals forced aside, crying out to be filled to the brim by Kento in one slick thrust. Kento could barely suppress a roar beneath his mask, throwing his head back in ecstasy. His enormous hands cuffed your waist, making it squidge down against your hips every time he dragged your hips, moving your pussy around him like a cock sleeve.

Kento's strength made manhandling you look easy. You lay ruined beneath him, your head lolling against the inside of your own bound arm. The image of him unbuttoned, masked, gloved and still almost fully dressed above you, grunting and groaning as he used your pussy for his own pleasure, burned onto your retinas.

Kento barely moved his own hips, his eyes fixed feverishly on where he dragged your swollen pussy around the length of his cock, twitching and burning inside you. He couldn't contain himself. The hook behind his navel, all scorched steel and selfishness, beseeched him to drag his pleasure from you.

"Fucking-- ruin you-- never be satisfied...by another man again-- keep running from me, and I'll hunt you down...and take you like this every-- fucking-- time--"

As Kento's pleasure roared over him, he punctuated his thrusts against your belly with the written word in action. Making nothing more than jolted, pitiful moans as he fucked repeatedly against your sensitive cervix and soft-spot, you clambered for purchase, sobbing your pleasure as his gloved fingers rolled your clit between them.

Kento came with a string of curses, his thighs cramping beneath him with the force of it. Feeling his seed begin to pump and spurt into you, he dragged you aggressively to another orgasm with his leathered fingers. He had to feel you clench around him, sucking his seed deep inside you. He had just enough forethought to recall his final, toxic line as he gasped, groaning and bucking with the force of his ejaculation.

You could barely hear him through the fog of pleasure, faint in the distance; "If you have the nerve...to crawl back to me...full and swollen-- know we can be enemies in matrimony, as well as battle."

The room was hushed and dark, the gloom broken only by your mingled, heavy breaths, and the earthy smell of sex. You reached up pulling Kento's balaclava up and pressing a breathless little kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"...but...we still have to get a divorce. I just-- couldn't live with you knowing what I read--"

Kento laughed, his shoulders aching from the weight of the villain, slipping away with his gloves and mask.

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lanadelnegan · 1 year ago

Text

My Girl

S7!Negan x Reader

Requested from anon: hey! loving the blog and every story you post! i was wondering if you’d do a story of a reader’s first time being with S7 Negan who is an asshole at first but then goes soft because he accidentally made her cry??

OOOH I'm gonna have some FUN with this one. And thank you so much <3.

Summary: Rick's oldest daughter, y/n, loses her virginity to Negan.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, virgin first time, vaginal sex, daddy-kink, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 40), Rick walks in on Negan eating you out.. (twice), degrading language, mushy romantic Negan, Negan fucks you in nothing but his leather jacket

A/N: This is my favorite fic I have written by far and I hope you love it as much as I do cuz I am obsessed.

"Carl, take your sisters upstairs and don't come down until I say it's safe." I lift Judith out of her high chair and follow Carl up the stairs.

Our dad has always treated us like Carl's the older one, even though he's two years younger than me, but I don't mind. If anything, it takes some of the pressure off of being big sis all the time.

I hear Negan's voice booming in the distance as my dad opens the door to head back outside. This has become part of our weekly routine at this point. Negan and his men went from monthly visits to weekly visits over the past couple months, but I don't mind that either.

The more I get to see him, the merrier.

I move the bedroom curtains slightly, peeking through my window until my eyes find Negan standing in the street in front of our house. I'm able to make out what they're saying if I listen closely enough.

"Rickyyy, I missed ya. Where's that sweet daughter of yours hiding? .....The older one of course." I can't stop the grin that appears on my face when he asks about me.

"This isn't about her. Get what you need, and leave." My dad stands firmly planted with his hands on his hips and my eyes roll at his attitude. Maybe if my dad would just be civil with Negan all of this could stop. I revert my gaze back to Negan.

"Now, Prick, you know I can't leave without seeing my girl."

His girl... The butterflies in my stomach flutter at the sound of that.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Carl asks rudely from across the room while holding Judith and bouncing her so she doesn't cry.

I quickly glare at Carl before turning my gaze back towards the window. When I look back down, Negan is looking up at me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I can't look away, and he lets his gaze linger a little too long as well, prompting my dad to look at my window. I quickly drop the curtain and back away.

"Take Judith to her room and put her down for her nap." I instruct Carl. He stares at me suspiciously. "Go! What did I just say?" I snap impatiently. He shakes his head but ultimately leaves.

"You're always so weird when he comes around." He says under his breath. I close my door behind them and go back to the window, peeking again, but this time everyone's gone. I rush to go see what's going on, but as soon as I swing my door open and run out, I crash into a tall, solid figure. My eyes widen as I look up at the man in the leather jacket.

"Hey, doll. Miss me?"

"Uh - I - where's my dad?" I stutter nervously, peaking around him.

"Busy getting supplies for me. He'll be busy for the next hour, so I thought I'd come keep you company."

Negan's been visiting Alexandria for months now, and each time he comes, our talks get longer and flirtier. Well, he flirts with me and I pretend to be annoyed, mostly so others don't think I like him. If they only knew how much I think about his beard between my legs.

There's something about him that intrigues me.. fascinates me even. I'm ashamed to admit I've even touched myself a couple times - okay, a lot of times - to the thought of him.

When I don't respond, he backs us into my bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He slides his shoes and jacket off, sitting on my bed and leaning back with his feet propped up. I blush at the sight of him in my bed and restrain myself from ripping my clothes off here and now. A chill runs through my body, making me noticeably shake but I try to play it off. He probably things I'm scared, when in reality I just want him.

"Relax, I'd never hurt you darlin'. Unless you want me to." He winks as he leans back against the headboard getting more comfortable.

"I know." And I do... for some reason, I know he wouldn't hurt me.

He bites his bottom lip playfully and raises his eyebrows while patting the bed next to him.

I nervously walk over and sit down before leaning back, mimicking his position. My bed is a twin, so it doesn't allow much room to ourselves. My shoulder is pressed against his and the simple act has my body on fire already. I glance over and let my eyes roam up his white t-shirt to his handsome face. He watches me with amusement while his leg presses against mine teasingly.

"Sweetheart, I've been around the block long enough to know when a girl wants my dick. And I can practically hear that pussy fucking purring every time I come near you." He grins at me like he knows all my secrets.

My face burns with embarrassment at his words.

"I bet I could make you blush even harder than that, doll." His grin stretches wider but I stay silent, letting him do the talking.

"Of course.. I wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable wi-"

Before he can finish, I press my lips to his hard and climb on top of him. His mouth parts, letting my tongue in and his subtle moan makes my pussy flutter. He tastes like whiskey and smells like leather and I feel high off the taste of him as we kiss passionately. I grind my hips desperately into him and feel his bulge grow underneath me.

"Negan... I need you."

"I know baby." He breathes out.

My hands fumble with his belt and pants until I get them undone. He watches me as I pull out his cock and my pussy is already sore from just looking at it. No way it's gonna fit.

"How do you want it, baby? You gonna be a big girl and ride daddy?" His hands squeeze my ass underneath my dress and he practically growls when he realizes I'm not wearing panties.

"It's like you knew I was coming. Such a bad little girl." His fingers tease my opening and I'm embarrassed that I'm already pathetically soaked for him.

"All for me?" He slides a finger through my slit and brings it up to his mouth for a taste. "So fucking sweet."

I slide myself against his cock that's now slippery with my wetness and wonder how I'm gonna fit that thing inside me.

The big dick energy definitely checks out.

I hover above him naively, thinking I can actually take him. The tip just barely pushes through my opening and I moan at the sudden pressure. His hands grip my ass, guiding me down over him.

"Come on baby, that's it." He praises me as I keep sliding down. I stop when I can't take anymore, realizing I have at least four more inches to go.

"Oh, I know my little slut can take more than that."

I shake my head. "Negan, I don't think I -"

"You can, and you will, doll. I didn't come all the way here for you to only take half of my dick."

Tears fill my eyes as I try to sit all the way on him, wanting to make him proud. I make it another inch before the pain is too much. Not only with how deep he is, but he's so wide I think he may actually be ripping me apart.

"Deeper, y/n." He demands.

When I try again and fail, I quickly climb off of him frustrated. "I can't Negan, I'm trying!" He sits up in the bed, his feet on the floor now.

"Bend over."

"W-what?"

"Do not make me ask again." His jaw clenches as he stares at me seriously.

I lay myself over him, my ass facing upwards on his lap.

"You're going to take all of me, baby. If my wives at home can take me, I expect nothing less from you."

He doesn't even give me a warning before bringing his hand down painfully on my ass making me yelp. He chuckles darkly before smacking me again. He rubs the sensitive spot before teasing both of my holes.. One with his thumb and the other with his middle finger.

"What would daddy say if he could see you right now? Bent over my fucking lap and dripping for me like a little whore..." He pushes his thumb and finger deep inside each of my openings and I bite my lip hard at the pain.

I know he's trying to be all dominant right now.. I'm not oblivious to how rough sex works, but my eyes still sting with tears at his crude words. I shouldn't have built my hopes up that Negan could actually care and be gentle with me.

I sniffle as the tears fall, trying to wipe the snot dripping from my nose.

He quickly pulls me up and his eyes are filled with concern.

"Baby? Hey, look at me." He cups my face gently as I sit on the bed next to him.

"I - I liked you." I choke out. "I was the only one here who actually cared about you and saw you as a person.. and you.. you just see me as a stupid object you can shove your dick in.... You just ruined my first experience with a man. I hope you're happy." I sob while looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He presses his forehead to mine, looking down with regret. "I didn't know you were all mushy about me and shit.. Truth is?" He tilts my chin to look at him. "I was being so harsh with you cause I didn't want to admit my own feelings. I didn't think you'd ever want an asshole like me, so I didn't want to go catching feelings for someone who didn't want me back. But baby? I can't get you outta my fucking head... Why do you think I started visiting every week?"

My teary eyes look up at him and he looks genuine. I want to trust him so badly, but my heart and head are saying two different things.

"Fuck, y/n. I know you don't believe me. Let me prove it to you. What can I do? Just say the fucking word."

"Stop taking our stuff... Leave our people alone..."

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to agree to. "Does that include you?"

I try to hide my grin as I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. "....No."

"Then it's a deal, baby."

"That's it? Just like that?" I look at him confused.

He shrugs. "Guess you've got me wrapped around your finger already, darlin...And now that I know you've never been with a man, I'm taking my fucking time with you." He lays me down on the bed while kissing and climbing over me.

"What about my dad? He'll be back soon."

"Simon's keeping watch, doll."

His lips travel to my neck. "....What about your other wives? You're just gonna fuck me and go back to them?"

He laughs against my neck. "Sweetheart.. I kicked every one of them to the curb the day I layed eyes on you."

My mouth drops open but he cuts me off by pulling my dress down over my chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. I moan and arch myself into him. After a few moments of sucking each one, he slides down further, lifting my dress to my waist and settling his head between my legs. I watch him in awe as he takes his time, kissing my inner thighs.

"Has anyone ever eaten you, baby?"

I shake my head no as I lean up on my elbows to watch him.

"Good." He spreads my pussy lips apart with his fingers and I blush at him staring at it. "Such a pretty pussy. Fuck." He says before locking eyes with me and pressing a kiss to my clit gently. I moan from the contact and arch myself into him, silently begging for more.

He dips his tongue in me and curls it up, gathering my juices. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans and licks all the way up to my clit before sucking on it softly. My mouth drops open and my hips try to jerk away, being overwhelmed by sensitivity.

He smiles against me. "Not going anywhere until you cum all over my face, doll." He wraps his arms up around my thighs, pressing my stomach down with his hands.

My breathing matches the speed of his licking and sucking and I feel the pressure building up inside me.

"Fuck, Negan!" My eyes are clenched shut but snap open when my door suddenly flies open.

"Shit! Dad!" I reach to throw my blanket over me, but defeatedly realize it's on the floor. My eyes widen in horror at my father standing in the doorway, looking like he just saw a ghost. A ghost that's eating his daughter's pussy. I'm unable to close my legs because Negan is still holding me down with his hands.

"God fucking dammit, Rick. We were just ge-"

"Negan!" I cut him off, my cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment.

He kisses my pussy one more time and my eyes widen, not believing he just did that in front of my father. He finally leans up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smirking at my dad like he's proud of himself.

I quickly get up and fix my dress.

"Dad, look, I -" I look up, stopping at the sight of Carl pointing a gun directly at Negan's head.

Negan tucks himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt and ignoring Carl.

"Carl.." I slowly step in front of Negan. "Put the gun down."

"You - you wanted this? Him?" My dad asks horrified. "He's done horrible things, y/n."

"And you haven't?!" I yell at my dad. "I watched you rip a man's neck open with your goddamn teeth. If he's a monster.. then so are you."

Negan steps beside me and laces his fingers through mine before kissing the side of my head.

"I love him, dad." I look up at Negan and elbow him roughly when I see a teasing smirk on his face.

"And you think he loves you? You can't be that stupid." My dad says, putting emphasis on the last word.

Negan chuckles and finally cuts in. "First of all, Dick, do not call my woman stupid. Secondly.." His faces grows serious. "We won't be taking anymore of your things. No more visits. Other than me paying this one a visit of course." Negan winks and puts his his arm around me protectively. "That is.. until she moves in with me." Our eyes all widen at the same time.

"You want me to live with you?" I turn to Negan.

"I mean, you did just confess your love for me, doll. Soo, yeah, that's the plan." He kisses my forehead.

"Y/n, we'll talk about this later. Negan, you need to leave. Now." My dad demands, his jaw ticking with anger.

Negan glares at my dad for a moment before turning to me, lifting my chin to kiss him slowly and passionately. Before he lets go, he whispers in my ear. "Meet me right outside the walls when it gets dark. I am nowhere near done with you, baby."

My heart flutters at the thought of us sneaking out together.

Negan walks towards the door before leaning close to my dad's ear. "I get to be her first, Rick. How fucking sweet is that." I struggle to make out his words but don't miss the chuckle at the end. He pats Carl's shoulder on his way out. "See ya 'round, bro."

"Love you, sweetheart!" He calls out to me as my dad and brother follow behind him, making sure he leaves.

I shut my door and smile giddily, running to the window and peeking out. Negan is already looking up at the window when I look at him. He smirks and winks at me before heading off to the gates.

A few hours later:

The sun just went down and my palms are starting to sweat as I pace back and forth on the outskirts of the gates. A million thoughts race through my head.

What if he doesn't come..

What if it's a trap..

What if he lied about everything he said..

Oh my god.. He's gonna kidnap and torture me..

Shut up. He wouldn't do that.

This is a bad idea. What am I doing.

Just as I turn to run back inside the walls, I see him appear from the shadows, wearing his signature leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath.

"Were you about to ditch me, y/n?" He asks playfully as he pulls my wrist towards him and crashes his lips into mine. When the kiss deepens, he bends a little, pulling me up by the back of my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist. We make out like horny teenagers while my fingers run through his slick black hair.

"You ready to officially be mine, doll?"

I nod without hesitation. "Yes. I'm already yours, Negan. I don't care what anyone thinks about us."

He kisses me again, setting me back down on the ground. "Lead the way, baby." He nods towards the side gates.

"You want to go back to my house? What if someone sees you?!"

"Kinda hope they do.. I like the thought of everyone knowing who you belong to." He smirks and it makes me knees weak.

"Okay.. come on." I pull his hand as I guide him back to my house. We sneak through the back sliding doors as carefully as possible before tiptoeing up the stairs.

He lightly smacks my ass as we're going up and I turn to shush him, tripping over my own feet in the process. He catches me before I make a loud thud on the stairs and his body is leaned over mine as we try not to laugh.

My body shakes as I laugh silently and bring my hand over my mouth quickly to stop any sound that comes out. His eyebrows raise at me with warning as if I better not make a noise.

"Okay, okay. Shushhh." I whisper before beginning our climb up the stairs again. My dad's room is at the end of the hall and mine is adjacent next to his. We try not to let the floors creak as we get closer to my room. We slip inside and I ease the door shut gently. When it finally clicks shut. I let go of a deep breath and look up at Negan. As soon as our eyes lock, we laugh like idiots, but quiet idiots.

He walks towards me. "Goddamn it, I fucking love you." He says as he lifts me back into his arms kissing me.

"You know.. earlier outside.." I breathe out between our kisses. "I thought.. that maybe you were gonna kidnap and torture me."

He smiles against my mouth as our lips lazily fight each other. "...What if I am?"

I stop kissing him to look at him. When I do, his look turns serious and it scares me for a moment. "I fully plan on making you mine and torturing you with this dick forever, doll."

I grin and roll my eyes as he continues holding me in his arms. "I guess there are worse ways to get tortured."

"Wait until I'm all the way inside you." His eyebrows raise teasingly.

I press my forehead to his and bring my hands to cup his face, kissing him again. I can't take my lips off of him. "Well what are you waiting for?"

That's all he needs to hear before he's walking me towards the bed and laying me down gently. He stands back up, removing his jacket and shirt.

I watch him closely, admiring the flex of his biceps when he moves. "Put the jacket back on. No shirt."

He laughs until he sees that I'm serious.

"Yes ma'am." He says with his little country accent. It's not always noticeable, but when it is.. it's so fucking adorable.

Once he's back in the jacket and bare chested, he stops for a moment before removing his pants. "Can I take these off, at least?"

"No, I want to."

He grin stretches as he walks towards the bed, keeping his hands by his sides. "All yours, baby."

I sit up in the bed in front of him and undo his button and zipper. I shuffle his pants down just a little before pulling his hardening cock out of his boxers. It turns to a steel rod in my hand and I don't care that I'm full on staring at it, assessing each vein and how it turns an ombre shade of pink towards the tip.

"I hope you like what you see, baby. Cause it's the only dick you're gonna be seeing for the rest of your life."

"I'm perfectly happy with that." I look up at him before kissing the tip of him, just like he did to my clit earlier. He watches me proudly, letting his fingers run through my hair lovingly.

I lick my lips before struggling to fit my mouth around him. He chuckles down at me.

“If you can’t fit me in that cunt, what makes you think you can take it down your throat, baby?”

I grin around him and I slide my mouth deeper and deeper. Surprisingly I don’t gag and I think it surprises him too.

Guess I don’t have a gag reflex. That’s good to know.

“Holyyy shit, doll. Look. At. You.” His voice is so deep it vibrates to my pussy. The tip hits the very back on my throat and even further until my eyes water.

I try to jerk my head back, but Negan pushes my head down on him again, my nose pressed into his pubic hair. He waits a few seconds until I feel like I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen before pulling my head back. I gasp for air and he pulls me all the way off of him while kicking his pants and boxers off.

"Trying to make me blow my load before we even get to the good part, darlin'? He climbs over me in the bed, kissing me softly.

My hands slip underneath his jacket and rub his back, scratching at it gently.

"I am gonna make you feel So fucking good." He says before kissing my neck. "You want me to be gentle with you baby?" His voice right in my ear makes me shiver.

I nod and he hovers his face above mine so we’re staring into each other eyes.

“You ready, baby?” He whispers and I nod again.

He leans up on his knees between me and lines himself up with my entrance before pushing the tip through. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

He slowly slides in me further and further as he holds my legs open.

“Goddamn this pussy is so fucking Tight.” He pulls back a little before pushing in deeper and my mouth gapes open slightly.

He chuckles and stares down at me through heavy eyelids. "I'm not even halfway yet, sweetheart. You want more?"

I nod desperately as my eyes fill with tears at the overwhelming sensation of him so deep inside me.

"Take it then, doll. Grind on me and make yourself feel good." He stops moving completely while still on his knees between my legs.

My cheeks blush at his request and he smirks down at me, sliding his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, refusing to move or touch me.

I lean up on my elbows while he's still inside me and push my body further into him, taking every inch I possibly can. I grind myself against him until I find just the right spot for the tip of his cock to press into and drop my head back at how good it feels, not caring about the desperate sounds I let out.

"Oh my god, Negan.. fuck." My face reddens at the intense pleasure as I continue using his cock to pleasure myself.

"Fuck, baby. Now THIS? Is a Fucking sight.. Watching you get off on my cock like a desperate little whore."

"Touch me, Negan. Please."

"Please what?"

"Please Negan."

He removes his hands from his jacket to lean over me, holding himself above me with one hand on the bed while bringing the other to lightly grip my throat.

His dark hazel eyes dart back and forth between mine as he squeezes his fingers gently around my neck. My face reddens even more at the sudden loss of air.

"Try again, doll."

"Please... daddy." I choke out and he quickly releases my throat.

"Good girl." He kisses my lips softly before thrusting his hips hard, completely filling me until his balls are flush against me.

I scream out and his hand immediately covers my mouth while his head dips to the side of mine and his deep voice fills my ear once again.

"Sshhh, baby. I know. I know." He pulls out almost completely before sliding in again, this time softer but just as deep.

My eyes fill with tears at the pain but I don't want him to stop. My fingers grip the bottom of his jacket as he continues fucking me hard and at a steady pace. The headboard begins to lightly bump the wall above me and my eyes widen with panic.

"Negan, the bed. My dad's room is right on the other side."

He chuckles lightly in my ear but doesn't speak. Instead, he pounds into me even harder and faster with his head is buried into my neck.

"Negan!" I whisper yell at him but it feels too good to make him stop. The closer my orgasm gets, the less I care about my dad hearing us.

After a few more thrusts, he slows down and suddenly flips us over with his dick still inside me until I'm laying over him.

"Negan, my dad's gonna come in here! We have to be quie-"

Before I finish, he lifts his knees up and rams his cock into me hard. It feels even deeper from this angle and hits a spot that makes me see stars.

"Come here, baby." He maneuvers me until my arms are wrapped around him and my head is nestled into his neck. He smells like musky cologne and sweat and I can't help but lick him. Our mouths are next to each others ears, breathing and moaning heavily as he begins to thrust up into me faster than ever. The headboard slams into the wall with force but I don't even care.

This feeling is unlike anything I've ever felt or knew was possible, so the last thing I'm gonna do is tell him to stop.

"Negan.." I cry out. "Faster."

He obeys and wraps his arms around me tighter, fucking me at an animalistic pace. I cum so hard and fast I don't even have time to announce it. My pussy clenches and I feel myself suddenly leak around him, soaking his dick and probably even the bed below us.

"Goddamn. That's my good fucking girl... You gonna let daddy cum in this pussy, baby?"

"Yes! Please." I whine.

He growls in my ear and holds himself deep and still inside me as his dick pulses over and over.

I try to slide off of him when he's finished, but he holds me tight, not letting me leave.

"Negan, you need to leave before my dad-"

"He's not here, sweetheart."

"What?!" I snap my eyes to his.

"Relax, baby. He's fine. But I did warn him that if he didn't want to hear his baby girl screaming "daddy" all night.. then he should take your siblings and go stay the night with Daryl." He grins up at me and my brows come together with confusion.

"Wait you.. you told him about our plan?"

"Of course baby. Had to be respectful and ask for your old man's blessing."

"And.. and he gave it to you?!"

Negan laughs and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Absolutely not. But respectfully, I told him he didn't have a choice."

The next morning:

My vagina is screaming at me for allowing it to be destroyed last night. I can't count on one hand how many times Negan made me cum. I open my eyes to the sun shining through my window and immediately notice Negan is gone. I shoot up and look around, seeing that his clothes are also gone.

What if he just.. got what he wanted and left..

I throw the covers off of me and get up, grabbing my sundress of the floor and throwing it on before making my way through the house.

"Carl?!.... Dad?!" I yell as I descend quickly down the stairs. I stop at the bottom to find Negan stirring a pot of something on the stove.

"There she is! Mornin' sunshine." I walk over to Negan to see what he's cooking and he holds a spoon up to my mouth, letting me taste the deliciousness. This man can fuck and cook... what a god.

"Was wonderin when you were gonna wake the hell up. It's already lunch time, baby." He presses his lips to mine and I notice his freshly shaven face. I've never seen him like his and he looks so incredibly handsome.

He lifts me up and sets me on the kitchen counter while standing between my legs.

"Mmm, promise me you'll wear little sundresses with no panties underneath for the rest of our lives, doll." He says as he kisses me sweetly. I giggle and wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck.

"You hungry baby?" He asks and I nod sleepily.

"Me too." He slowly gets down on his knees in front of me, draping my legs over his shoulders.

He softly licks me with his tongue, moaning from the taste before burying his face further into me until I feel his tongue push past my hole. His shaven face feels soft and much more gentle than his beard.

My fingers run through his black hair, tugging on it gently as my head falls back.

"Mmm, daddy." I moan and my eyes snap open, hearing movement at the front door. I quickly jerk Negan up while pulling my dress down and sliding off the counter, seeing my dad, Carl, and Daryl standing in the doorway. Carl quickly covers Judith's eyes while he holds her and Negan sighs annoyedly at the sight of them.

"God..DAMN it, Rick. Again? You gotta learn to fucking knock."

"It's my house." My dad's expression is unreadable as he stands there, eyeing Negan. "You said one night. You can be on your way now."

"Well now don't be fucking rude, Prick. Have a seat." He grins widely at my dad before gesturing to the table. "I made spaghetti."

The End.

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lacy-oh-lacy · 7 days ago

Note

i genuinely need you to write something for rio vidal plzzzzzz i’ll take anything but your writing is perfect so id love for you to write something *cough* dominant jealous rio *cough*

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑨/𝑵: Omg thank you, Anon. You're too sweet 𖹭

𝑪𝑾: Fem!Reader, Dom!Rio, Jealous!Rio, Soft domming, knife play, biting, magical G!P, possessiveness

Contrary to all common sense, the quickest way to find yourself on Death’s radar was not through an act of death itself. Not by losing your life or taking another's…

No, it was through her girlfriend.

A stranger's lingering gaze or a friend's pda never escaped Rio’s attention, and a repeat offender, like oh say… that coworker of yours you were talking to at that very moment…

Well, they managed to make an enemy out of the force of nature that could usually pride herself on her indiscriminate apathy.

Rio lurked in the shadows outside your workplace, eyes darkening as that fool made you laugh.

She wasn't even two minutes late to pick you up, and already that snake was curling around you. Unbelievable.

You didn't think anything of it, Rio knew, but she could see in that man's eyes every disgusting thought he was having about you.

It made her sick, it made her burn.

Well, if the shades of purple littering your neck didn't clue him in to the fact that you were taken, she was beyond willing to do it herself.

Under the cover of darkness she shifted her attire with a thought, striding over in a new, clean-cut suit that made his own look like ratty hand-me-downs.

You perked up as soon as you noticed her and it made her heart leap. Your bright smile, your appreciative eyes taking in her new look…

He could never make you glow like that.

“Hey, Baby.”

Rio couldn't help a quick smile reserved only for you as she joined you under the streetlight, arm wrapping around your waist. “Hello, my love. Sorry I'm late, work was murder.”

She turned to face your companion, with a cold and withering stare. A look that could take years off a life.

“Who's your friend?”

You could never truly estimate the depths of Rio's jealousy but you knew that look well enough to know you had to get her out of there.

And you knew it well enough to not be surprised by the intensity she brought to the bedroom that night.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I missed you today.”

Rio replied in her softest tone, someone less attuned to her might not have even heard the boundless resentment living within it, “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

Leisurely, she traced her knife from your jaw, down your neck, applying a spine-tingling pressure just short of breaking skin.

“Yeah well, that new guy I work with is pretty fun.” You said breathily, not biting. Her blade caught on the collar of your shirt, lingering above your hammering heart, and Rio laughed.

Never before had such stubborn brattiness looked so good on someone, but you were just something else… teasing her even with a knife to your chest…

She cut through the fabric in one rough slash. “Careful, Lover. Wouldn't want to shorten such a fun man's life span, would you?”

“You wouldn't do that.” you challenged

“Try me. I'd do anything to keep you.”

The sincerity of the statement should have frightened you, but it was intoxicating. To be the object of such devotion from Death herself was a head-spinning high that no drug, spell or new lover could match.

“You'll always have me, Rio.”

There was a pain to the look she gave you in return, a wound behind her eyes, but she found a smile for you before she circled behind you.

“I’d better.” She breathed in your ear, pulling the tatters of what used to be your shirt from your body.

The tip of her knife traveled down your spine, barely grazing your skin on a trail to your skirt, which she skillfully cut open, baring you to her completely.

“My pretty girl…”

Her hand smoothed over your ass-cheek with near reverence before disappearing between your legs.

You gasped, skin aflush, but all too soon you realized she wasn't done playing with you yet.

“Please.” You whimpered as her fingers slid across your folds, just short of where you needed them.

“Say my name.”

“Rio, please, I need you so bad.”

She drew a lazy circle on your clit and your breath hitched, “Well how can I say no to that?”

A tingling warmth followed her hand on your back as she pushed you forward, forcing your chest onto your dresser and you into a bend.

You barely noticed the hardness of the surface against your breasts. You couldn't concentrate over the thought of being so exposed to her, and even that died with your last remaining brain cells as you felt the tip of her cock against your entrance.

She could've gone right in, you were wet enough for her to, but she slowly dragged up and down your slick folds, cock head catching on your clit every time and setting your nerves ablaze.

“Rio.” You whined.

“So impatient.” She laughed. “Don't worry, Baby, I'll take care of you.”

With that she pushed through your centre, slowly and gently sinking inside of you, savoring every blissful moan you let out.

She very nearly lost herself as you jerked against her but she resisted the rough thrust you were so clearly asking for. Your pathetic, little mewls, music to her ears.

She bottomed out inside of you, letting you adjust, letting you enjoy being filled. Then quicker than you could process she pulled out and slammed back in.

You cried out, but Rio wasn't slowing down this time, pounding you again and again with deep, unapologetic thrusts.

“You're mine. You hear that? Say it.”

“I'm yours, Rio.” You choked out, voice bouncing with her pistoning hips.

“Yeah, you’re mine. My good girl.”

She leant forward, her breasts flush against your back, as she sank her teeth into your shoulder, leaving behind a delightful sting.

Rio wasn't usually one for quickies but tonight she'd make an exception. There was a desperation inside of her stronger than mere lust. She had to see you cum.

She twisted her arm around your hip so she could work your clit, rubbing in a frenzy. “Tell me you want me.”

“Want you. Need you.”

“Then cum for me Baby, I know you can do it.”

Rio was nothing short of amazing. The concentrated skill on your clit and the near supernatural speed of her thrusts unraveled you like only she could.

Your mouth fell open and your walls clenched around her in a strangling hold as lust threatened to burn you alive.

“God! Rio!”

You came all over her and right on cue she emptied her cock inside of you, filling you to your very core with what felt like neverending ropes of cum, trapped inside of you by her refusal to pull out.

“I'm never gonna let anyone else do this to you, baby.” She breathed out, mouth returning to your shoulder to lick over the bite mark she left. “Never, for all eternity, I'm yours, and you’re mine.”

#rio vidal x reader #rio vidal smut #agatha all along #agatha all along x reader #marvel x reader #marvel smut #mcu x reader #marvel imagine #rio vidal #aubrey plaza

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wheeboo · 6 months ago

Text

to love and be loved | jeon wonwoo

SYNOPSIS. in which wonwoo tells you about his first (and only) love. PAIRING. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers WARNINGS. self-doubt talk on reader's end, self-indulgent wooweee, this was painfully hard to write lmao n have no idea if any of this makes sense WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from anon: Hiiiiiiii first of all congratssss for you 2k. For the event, ive been thinking the same exact story with wonwoo and #6 from list 3 - #6: “You’re not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You just… Need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

notes: i'd quite literally do anything to have these kinds of talks with wonwoo ☹️☹️. anyway i hope u all enjoy this <3 hits close to home >< tysm anon hehe <3

join the 2k celebration!

"Hey, uh, Wonwoo?"

"Mhm?"

"...have you ever been in love?"

A cricket chirps into the evening air right after you ask, and you suddenly feeling like you're holding in a long-winded breath. Then you hear a loud crunch by Wonwoo from the crackers he was snacking on, and you blink up to him wiping away the corner of his mouth. There's the slightest glimpse of a curve to his lips that you manage to catch.

He silently offers you a cracker in your direction, the anticipating silence between the two of you growing thickly. You take the cracker from his hand, muttering a quiet thanks, before nibbling on it absentmindedly.

The night is absolutely beautiful right now, swearing that you could spot and make out the constellations above if you squinted hard enough. The distant chirping of crickets is the only sound that breaks the silence as the coolness of the night rolls in, carrying with it slight breeze that whispers through the leaves overhead the balcony of your apartment.

"I have."

You swiftly turn your head to him, eyes widening intriguingly. "You have?"

The chuckle that leaves him is somewhat awkward, a tad bit hesitant. He crumples up the bag of crackers and sets it aside, chugging down the last sips of his drink and setting down the empty can as well.

"Did you... ever confess to them?" You ask, suddenly feeling curious, though there's a bit of disappointment at the tip of your tongue.

You swear you could see the thoughts swirling around his head. Wonwoo keeps his eyes fixed up to the night sky. There's a distant look in his eyes, as though he's peering into some past moment that only he can see, before he shakes his head, a faint smile crossing over his lips.

"No, I didn't," he answers calmly. "They were too far away, so... I just chose to admire them at a distance."

You lean back against the wall behind, your shoulder momentarily brushing against his. "Did they know you?"

Wonwoo purses his lips together. "Mhm."

"Well, you missed your chance!" You exclaim, prodding him playfully with your elbow. "I can't believe you let them get away, dude. Like right through the little cracks of your fingers. You could've been in a relationship by now."

This earns you a low, playful scoff from Wonwoo. "Are you assuming that they loved me back?"

Immediately, you feel the heat crawl up your neck and to the tips your ears.

"Well, um... Yeah, I am," You admit sheepishly, letting out a small sigh. "I mean, who wouldn't fall for a guy like you? You're nice and... charming. I think anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

There's a silence that falls between the two of you, one simply more than just comfortable yet denser than ever, because the thought of being loved by Wonwoo seems to linger longer than you notice. You steal a glance at him, seeing his face still turned upwards towards the night sky and the moonlight reflecting on his glasses. Strands of his dark hair blow across his forehead in the breeze. You can't quite decipher his expression, but a flicker of something𑁋perhaps surprise, maybe even amusement𑁋dances on his features for a brief moment.

He finally turns back to you, a small, hesitant smile playing on his lips. "You think so?"

"Yeah," You confirm, nodding lightly. "Absolutely."

Wonwoo still keeps his eyes on you as you glance away, seeing the way you fidget with your hands in your lap and smoothing out the creases in your pants nervously. He glances down at his own hand and back at yours, lips pursing together in contemplation, but only folds his fingers back together the second you reach over him to grab the crumpled-up bag of crackers. He feels a little bit too warm in his sweater right now.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

A crunch echoes through the air. Then another. And another.

"I've just been kinda... thinking a lot lately, I guess," You reply slowly, quietly. "And it sort of makes me sound desperate in a way, but there are times I just wonder if, um... if anyone has ever felt the same way about me."

Wonwoo tilts his head slightly. "Love?"

"Not just love, but... seeing me, you know?" Being able to talk about this out loud makes your chest feel heavy. "Since it's hard these days to find someone who sees you for who you are, not for who you can be. I... I just feel like I'm hard to love sometimes. Hell, maybe even unlovable. It’s hard to break out of that mindset when things get hard again.”

A thoughtful quietness seeps through the nighttime breeze, which sends goosebumps up and down your skin, but you don't mind it because you know that Wonwoo is listening either way. And the more you think about it𑁋the thought of knowing that he's here, with his presence is right next to you𑁋it seems to comfort you more than you notice.

There's a small hum of acknowledgement that you hear from his end, unsure if it's just your imagination or if he's actually responding as your mind feels a little jumbled up right now. But then Wonwoo shifts beside you, his arm lightly pressing against yours.

"But I... I think I've reached a point in time where I can say I love myself a little more than a few years ago, or last year, or even just yesterday," You continue to ramble a bit aimlessly, chuckling dryly to yourself. "It’d be nice to share that with someone too, you know? To finally get over this loneliness. But it's not entirely a sad loneliness or a happy one. It's, like, uh... both put together, I guess."

A few moments of silence pass. You feel Wonwoo gently nudge your leg with his.

"I'm proud of you."

You peer up to look at him, mind nearly going blank from the way he's gazing at you. Or maybe it's just the moonlight that's making him appear so... picturesque. "What for?"

"For loving yourself, silly," Wonwoo muses almost cheekily, and the delighted tone that you catch makes your stomach leap. "Even if it's just by a small percentage than yesterday, it's still okay. You're doing good. I want you to know that."

You're doing good. It's just those three singular words that has heat forming in your eyes that you somehow manage to blink back before anything could spill, and hearing it come from Wonwoo feels different. There's a vulnerable sweetness to them, a sincerity that catches you off-guard. You force a smile𑁋a grateful one, nonetheless𑁋before it shifts into a frown.

And Wonwoo catches it right away. "What's wrong?"

Your lips form a thin line, pressing together in thought. You refuse to acknowledge why you think your heart feels slightly... jealous.

"I hope whoever you loved before knows how lucky they are one day," You say to him. "if you're still in love with them, that is..."

Wonwoo stills for a minute, pensively. "I am."

"You are?"

"I never stopped."

You stare at him for a few moments, an eyebrow lifted in disbelief at him, before crossing your arms together and letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "Then you should've said that you're in love with them, idiot."

Wonwoo sucks in a breath.

"I'm in love with you."

You blink instinctively, once, twice, three times, momentarily thinking that Wonwoo's presence might somehow disappear into thin air. But he's still there𑁋a certain softness in the way he's looking at you, a gentleness that seems to wrap around you like a warm embrace𑁋waiting for you. His words suspend heavily in the air, and maybe the world is also holding its breath just as you are too.

"And... You're not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You're far from that," Wonwoo continues, voice tender, fond, and soft as a lullaby. "You just... need to let me in, and let me show you you're just as worthy of love as anyone else is."

You could only sit merely frozen at this point, throat tightened and jaw dropped in shock among many other weird, fuzzy feelings happening throughout your body. Something between relief and disbelief. Hope and hesitancy. Comfort and uncertainty. You have the capacity to run yet you choose not to𑁋you're letting him in, letting the warmth of his words seep into the cracks of your doubt.

Your mind reels dizzily, almost like the world has been tilting away off-balance.

"You... You're in love with me?" You repeat, almost dumbly, because you cannot seem to fathom anything that's been said in the past few moments. "All that talk about earlier... about who you..."

Wonwoo hangs his head down low, rubbing at his neck in a bashful manner. "It was about you."

"And you never... you never told me?"

"Honestly, I'd like to think a part of it was you being a tad bit oblivious." And then he just simply grins, his nose crinkling along with it. "But that's okay. Watching you slowly figure yourself out made me realise that maybe I needed to find myself a little more too."

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and you could feel the heat of embarrassment spreading painfully throughout your face. At first, you have the urge to brush it all away as a silly misunderstanding. Maybe laugh it off, retreat back inside, and go to sleep pretending all of this didn't happen. But the sincerity in his eyes stops you.

You lick your dry lips, the cool night air beginning to feel a lot less suffocating.

"Did you?" You ask vaguely, before shaking your head repeating, "Did you... find yourself?"

Wonwoo lets his eyes roam over you, taking you in, before leaning back on the wall and bringing his gaze back up toward the night sky. Your eyes refuse to leave him, and perhaps this is what it's like to admire someone from afar and close up all at once.

The two of you take a deep, deliberate exhale together.

"Yeah," he answers, smiling softly. "I think I found myself right where I want to be."

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bunnys-kisses · 2 months ago

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HI HI omg this is my first request

Can I order a coffee with side of crostata and crème caramel served by 7x world champion Lewis Hamilton

And can the situation be they are both drivers and she pushed him of the track and won so after the race she avoids him until he catches her finally

Love the bakery btw 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

bakery menu

want to submit your own order! then check out the menu! there are tons of options and i'd love for you check it out! as for this lovely anon! thank you for the submissions! you know i love a good rivals au, i eat it up!! so i hope you love it! enjoy!

crostata (“stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”) crème caramel ("oh. you thought you were getting away from me?") + coffee (rivals au) served by lewis hamilton (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, dom/sub, rivals au, driver!reader, mean!lewis, rough sex, driver's room sex, doggy style, unprotected sex, mean!lewis

you had been hiding since you pulled ahead in zandvoort, securing first place. you got past norris, you got past verstappen, and you even got past the seven time world champion, lewis hamilton.

maybe your methods were a little unconventional on the track, after all, you pushed lewis off the track as a meant to secure your spot. so currently the mercedes driver was upset with you.

so therefore you were avoiding him.

you and lewis had been rivals for close to two seasons. even if he was the seasoned veteran of the track. the top title holder with a model's face and the heart of an engine. and you were a little firecracker. you came onto the scene and drove like the devil himself was on your heels.

one the track, in the paddock or in front of the press. you were the first in a while to really give him a run for his money. while you weren't a beauty queen, the media thought you were their darling. when lewis accused it of amazing media training, you just smiled, "what's wrong hamilton, under my spell too?" and lewis wanted nothing more than for you to choke on his cock.

but, lewis was a good finder. and soon as you slinked through the empty paddock. everyone packed up for the night, you heard his voice, "is that the princess!" his voice echoed in your brain.

you swallowed and tried to start moving faster. but lewis had a wider stride and even if you tried to run. he would follow. after all, he wanted to see today's winner.

"there you are!" he said with faux sweetness in case there were any lingering workers. he grabbed you from behind and hoisted you around, "there's the winner! i was looking all over for you." you tried to make yourself dead weight so he'd let go of you, but when he whispered in your ear, your knees turned to jelly, "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

"hi, lewis." you swallowed.

his hand was spread across your chest. he could feel your racing pulse. he exhaled close to your ear and said, "oh, you're very funny for thinkin' that, love."

"it was an accident."

"no, no. don't lie. where's all that bravado. you look like you're going to pass out. what about the spell you had?"

"i'm sorry for pushing you off the track."

he kissed a kiss on the back of your neck, almost tender, "words mean nothing, love. can i trust you to walk about thirty feet to my driver's room? can you be a good girl for me?"

"lewis, can't this-"

"no." he said simply, "if this was about half an hour ago i would've driven us to my nice hotel and we could've even had dinner before i wrecked you. but not now, now you get to be fucked in the driver's room." his tone left you feeling hazy.

you tried to stand your ground with him, "they didn't call it, so you have no reason to be mad. you can't just pull those cheap seduction tricks and except me to fall for them."

his hands groped your ass and he said, "no, no. it's just the princess getting her special treatment once again. she can do no wrong." he kissed your neck once more, "can't let that ego get too big. because if you stop winning and the shininess of a female driver fades. they'll drop you. but i'll always have a place for you, love. right between my legs."

your stomach twisted, you felt a throb of heat in your chest. you said softly, "driver's room, right?" there was no escaping this.

lewis let go of you, but took you by the hand as an extra safety precaution. he even swung your hand like you were lovers as you walked to his driver's room. meanwhile you were mentally screaming.

you and lewis have had sex before. it was an open secret in the paddock, so much so the press had caught onto it. but it was all a flurry of rumors. there was no evidence, only word of mouth from the poor employees that caught you in the act.

you got into the room without much trouble. despite what many thought, the driver's room was the worst place to have sex. it felt like it was almost designed for driver's not to have sex.

it wasn't spacious, something about the furniture left it almost impossible to get intimate at a good angle. and that was where lewis was going to teach you a lesson.

lewis started to get undressed and expected you to do the same. he locked the door so there was no intrusion. if someone with a camera caught you, it would be international news.

then the press would talk about the eventually wedding and kids. and even the mere thought of it made you feel disgusted. being married to lewis, you had a career to go after. women to inspire! you couldn't be tired down to a man like lewis.

but yet he had you on the carpet, your hands above your head with your ass in the air. there was something domineering about him in that moment. the charming lewis, a true face of formula one, had you spread out on the carpet, ready to devour you.

you tried to get out of your clothes with your head pressed against the carpet. you kicked off your pants and struggled to get your panties off, briefly getting tangled in them.

lewis chuckled, "stuck there, love?"

you replied, huffing against the carpet, "i'm fine, i'm fine." you got out of your clothes and yelped when lewis smacked your soft ass.

"i have to admit." he said as he leaned back on his heels with his hard cock in hand, "you are very pretty. you could sell tickets with that face, but if you showed a little more. you could sellout tracks."

you arched your back and sighed into the carpet, "is that why you show all that skin online."

he leaned on top of you, his cock almost slipping in. he said, "no, no. i do those because i know you're looking. you still follow me online, love. i know you're watching and i like showing off."

you felt your heart skip a beat and you gripped into the carpeted floor, "fuck, lewis."

he pulled away a little and then rubbed the blunt tip of his cock up against your slick entrance. he said, "i know, i know. i'll make it all better soon." then eased into your pussy, which made you make the sweetest noises for him.

such a foe on the track, but when you were under him, you were a little lamb. you wouldn't hurt a fly. or push someone off the track.

he held onto your hips as he started to move. there was little time for introductions. the need to fuck was intense, it was causing your blood to run hot. you held onto the carpet and tried to meet his pace, but he kept it in a way that threw you off.

"you look good under me." he chuckled, his mouth was near your ear, he was keeping your top half pressed with the carpet. the material of it rubbed awkwardly against your breasts, leaving them a little raw from the movements.

"lewis. please, i'm sorry." you croaked.

he replied, almost softly, "i'll forgive you when you make me finish. can't be in a good enough mood to forgive when i'm hard as fuck." his lips trailed down your neck, and it made you shiver.

you whimpered a little, the feeling flooded your brain. the rush of feelings left you feeling hazy. your heartbeat felt distant in your ears as he continued to fuck you.

it was private, but it felt so public. someone with the right key could easily find lewis hamilton taking apart his rival. you were his favourite one, in a total honestly if he'd want anyone to beat him, it would be you.

but he'd never tell you that, he'd push you to your racing and sexual limits, leaving you gasping for more. flood that little head of yours with the reminder of how he made you feel.

you came and you had to cover your mouth so you didn't make so much noise. you didn't need to have people outside the room starting to get curious about what was going on inside. the feelings hit like a brick, a swift kick to you that left you aching. your noises, while muffled, made lewis want to fuck you harder.

you panted into your palms and arched your back. your eyes rolled back a little from the intensity. when you started to come down, lewis was still thrusting up into you. your noises were more passive as he continued to move against you.

"pretty girl." he said, "all fucked out under me." he shook his head a little, "i wonder what your team would think? having you spread out under me. no matter how many podiums you take, you'll never be me." he leaned forward, making sure every last inch was inside of you. he kissed the apple of your cheek and said, "i'll show you sometime, what a world champion trophy looks like." his voice was venomous and it bit at your lust riddled head.

"lewis."

"it's only fair." he curved your back a little more, getting at just the right angle, "it'll be the closest you ever get to one."

his harsh words made sparks in your head as you came once more. this time you sounded a little more desperate as you weren't able to cover your mouth. but that was enough for lewis, two heavy thrusts and he held onto you as he came.

you dropped your hips onto the floor and some cum ended up on the carpet. you panted wildly, not able to find words. but you could feel lewis' heated gaze.

he chuckled a little and rubbed his eyes, the feeling was intense even for him. he could feel the blood rush in his body, like when he raced. he said, "this is how i like you. all fucked out and not causing me problems on the track."

you made a small noise, your tongue unable to produce words. next time, think about running one of the greatest off the tracks. <3

482 notes · View notes

hyuuukais · 4 months ago

Note

Hiii!! I saw ur requests were open but if this makes u uncomfy for any reason no worries. I was skating home from work today and kinda got scraped up pretty bad so I was wondering if you'd write a Skz reaction to reader getting hurt by skating(I was skateboarding but if you want separate scenarios you can use roller skates or ice skates too I think that would be cool) and maybe nursing reader back to health idk just something fluffy? I was kinda discouraged from skating after I got all scraped up today :/

Ps. I love ur blog and I hope you have a great day/night 🩷

-🔮(if u have emoji anons I'd like to be this one)

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆

pairing : ot8 x reader

notes : hi !! i didn't know if you wanted texts or written, so i did a mix, i hope that's alright with you! and i actually don't have any emoji anons rn, you'd be my first, which is so exciting!! and i love love love the one you chose. i took your advice and did a variety of different types of skates :) oh! and this doesn't make me uncomfortable, little injuries/sick fics like this is okay :33

warnings : injuries (scraped knees/hands/face/arms, sprained wrist/ankle/concussion), blood mention, nausea, mentions of passing out/blacking out, reader called pet names (baby, honey, love), food mention

CHAN (wc: 561)

There's a knock on your door exactly eleven minutes later, and you trudge across your living room to open it. Chans face is etched with concern, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he takes in the light bruising starting to appear on your cheekbone, a few red scratches from the tough asphalt accentuating the purple.

Without a word, he enters your living space and sets a small bag down on the coffee table. Chan takes some things out, then gestures you to move down the hallway to your bathroom. Suppressing a groan, you do as he says, trying not to wince every time you step. Another, much worse scrape paints your knee, stinging with every movement. By the time you're sitting on the edge of the tub, your eyes have watered in pain.

Chan kneels in front of you, looking up to into your watery eyes, but you avoid his gaze. With a soft sigh, he takes the bottle of peroxide and dampens a cloth, gently pressing it down on your bloody knee. You hiss at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut hard as he continues to pat the wound and surrounding flesh. It hurts so bad, and you swear you can feel your knee throbbing. What feels like hours is mere minutes, Chan taking the cloth away from your skin to reach for a nearby bandage. He takes care in wrapping the wound, placing a small kiss on the top of your knee once he's done.

"Now, let me see that pretty face of yours." Chan joins you on the edge of the rub, bringing a hand up to gently turn your face to his. "Doesn't look as bad as I thought, but it still needs to be cleaned... you're doing so good for me, baby."

He smiles at you, wiping a stray tear that's managed to escape from the corner of your eye. Your jaw clenches as he brings the cloth, freshly dampened in peroxide, to your skin again, patting in the same motion he did your knee. The sting isn't as bad, the cuts smaller and quicker to clean. As soon as Chan is done placing the smaller bandage on your cheekbone, he places a kiss over it. His palm comes to rest on your lower cheek and jaw, resting your foreheads together. Naturally, your eyes flutter shut as you relax under his touch, the pain and embarrassment forgotten almost completely in his presence.

"I love you," You whisper, sighing contently.

"I love you too," Chan smiles, backing his face away from yours. "How about you change into some comfy clothes and we put on that show you've been on about? Sound good?"

A smile breaks out on your face at the mention of the show, nodding excitedly at his suggestion. "We'll have to start at the beginning! I've been dying to show it to you."

He laughs, his eyes almost shutting from how wide his smile has gotten watching you grab his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. You're still talking as you change, but Chan just leans back on the bed listening, not daring to interrupt. He loves it when you're like this, gushing about your interests to your hearts content. It seems like a flip has switched from your dim mood, and Chan is glad he could do something to make you feel better.

MINHO (wc: 526)

And he does, he marches right to you despite the protests of the coaches spread on the chilled ground, one of which is making their way toward you. Slipping and sliding all the way to you, Minho makes it to your side first and tries to assess the situation.

"What happened?" Minho demands, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You've managed to sit up on your butt, feeling the cold ground seeping through your bottoms as you curl into yourself. Keeping your wrist close to your chest, you take deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Staying calm is the only way you'll get through the throbbing pain in your wrist.

The coach stops just short of you, kneeling on the opposite side of Minho. "Y/n! Are you alright? That was a really bad fall."

All you can do is shake your head, eyes unmoving from the spot between your knees. With the nausea you're feeling, the only thing keeping you from jumping to the conclusion you've broken a bone is the fact you never heard a crack.

One minute, you were gliding on the ice, acing your practice jumps and having fun. The lessons you're doing have been going on for a few months now, and you've been getting better with each one. Knowing you've always wanted to try learning to skate, Minho had paid for a full year of lessons for your birthday, and you'd almost cried when he told you.

Yet, here you are, once again close to tears for a completely different reason. You knew not to put your arms out the way you did, landing on your wrist at an odd angle. Next thing you knew, you could barely move as pain seized you and threatened to have you black out.

"Honey," Minhos voice is next to your ear, one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly. "Let me help you up, we need to go."

Hours later, you've traveled to the hospital, been seen by a doctor, and sent home with a sprained wrist. The whole way home, there's been a pout on your face, and all you want to do now is lay down in bed and cry.

Minho can tell, he always can, so when you get home he leads you in the direction of the living room. At first, you're confused, but then he kisses your forehead and brings you the first furball he can find. Soonie gets comfortable in your lap as Minho leaves the room, coming back a few minutes later with the comforter from your bed.

"I know you want to change and go to bed," He says softly into your ear, placing another kiss on your lobe with a playful nibble that makes you giggle. "I know you're embarrassed. De-stress a bit first, calm down, then I'll run you a hot bath and we can settle in for the night."

"I guess I can do that," You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you will do that." Minho pats your head, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not leaving you with a choice."

CHANGBIN (wc:541)

It's not even ten minutes later that you spot him jogging down the street to meet you. You've scooted back into the grass to stay out of the way of other pedestrians, using your cold water bottle to soothe the scrapes on the palms of your hands. As soon as Changbin sees you, he's by your side and taking away the bottle, replacing it with his loving touch. He places a kiss on each palm, taking care to brush away the tiny pieces of ground off your skin.

Maybe it's how soft he's holding you, or just him being so quick to be with you when you're hurt, but you can feel tears well up in your eyes. The sound of your sniffles catches Changbin's attention immediately, and one of his hands is already on your face to thumb the tears away before they've even had the chance to fall.

"Bunny," Changbin coos, a pout on his face. "It's okay, you're okay. Let's get you cleaned up, how's that sound?"

You nod, letting him undo the laces of the roller skates, sliding them off your feet carefully. Thankfully, you didn't twist an ankle or anything, and you're honestly a bit surprised you didn't with the way you fell. Changbin ties the laces together, swinging them over his shoulder. Next, he helps you to your feet.

"You couldn't have brought me proper shoes to walk back in?" You joke, trying to find some humour in the situation.

"Why would I when I can do this-?" Hands hook under your legs and behind your back as he swings you into his arms bridal-style. You can't help but giggle at his antics, covering your face in embarrassment as a passer-by gives you two a look. Changbin lifts your torso close to him, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Changbin carries you like this the whole fifteen minutes back home, keeping his head up high, proud of somewhat showing you off as you go, even if that wasn't the intent of holding you like this. Even when you do arrive home, he still refuses to let you go until you're safely in your bedroom, placing you down on the plush mattress. When you go to sit up, he pushes you back down gently, shaking his head.

"Stay put, let me do this!" Changbin almost whines, and you supress another fit of giggles at his reactions. "I want to treat you."

"It's just some scraped palms-"

"Yah!" He scolds, lifting up a hand. "You're still hurt. I'm not letting you do a thing for the rest of the evening."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you watch as Changbin goes into the en suite and comes back with some alcohol wipes. He sits next to you on the bed and takes one hand in his, gently patting down the scrapes. Mostly, your hands are just red from the fall, no longer bleeding at all, but Changbin still wraps your hands just in case, placing a kiss on each one afterwards.

"Next time, wait for me, okay?" Changbin looks at you, a small pout still present on his face.

"Yeah, yeah... I will," You promise, reaching out for him. "Now come here, I want cuddles."

HYUNJIN (wc: 549)

The whole right side of your face is bright red, a pouch of ice ironically held up to the raw skin. Hyunjin's face drops as he spots you across the arena, hurrying around to get to you. Once he does, he takes the hand holding the pouch away, examining your face.

"It's not as bad as it looks, probably," You say weakly, looking him in the eye. "I haven't actually seen, so that may be a lie."

"Does it hurt a lot?" You shake your head at his question. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My shoulder, a bit," You admit, dropping your gaze. "I landed weird, but I think it'll be fine. It's definitely not broken or dislocated, just sore."

Hyunjin shakes his head, looking out at the ice where other people are still skating. In his head, the world should have stopped for you the minute your body made contact with the ice. He huffs, breath coming out in a little cloud. Turning to him, you poke his arm to gain his attention back.

"I'm fine, really," You promise, but his expression tells you he doesn't quite believe that. "Can we just... go home?"

Nodding, Hyunjin stands and offers his hand to you. Not for physical support, but emotional, walking hand in hand out of the arena. The hallways are quiet as you detour for a bathroom break before leaving.

When you enter, the first thing you notice is just how red your skin has gotten, a noticeable difference from the other half of your face, but you can't help but snort. In all honesty, you look funny. The pain is low on a scale of 1-10, so you're able to find a bit more humour in the situation than Hyunjin at the moment. Once you exit, Hyunjin immediately grasps your hand in his again, his tight grip comforting. If anything, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Getting back to your place doesn't take long, and Hyunjin makes a beeline for your bathroom as you're still taking your coat off. You take your time meeting him in there, seeing some cream set out on the counter. As soon as you walk in, Hyunjin gestures for you to sit on the edge of the tub. Carefully, he puts a few small globs of the cream on your face. It stings a little, but feels nicer as he rubs it into the sore skin. His fingers glide over the curves of your face, taking care to cover every inch of your injury. When he's done, he turns your body and begins massaging the shoulder you landed on.

"Never downplay your pain, you hear me?" Hyunjin lightly scolds, resting his chin on your head as he pauses his actions.

"I meant it when I said it didn't really hurt." You giggle when Hyunjin sighs loudly at your answer. "But I won't, I swear. Does me promising this make you feel better?"

"Honestly?" Hyunjin hums, thinking for a moment. "No, not really, because I know you."

You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, the corners of your lips twitching into your own smile. His arms come around you, gently rocking you side to side, his plush lips pressing a kiss to your temple. Just having him by your side is healing enough.

JISUNG (wc: 608)

The gasp that leaves Jisung's mouth has people around him shooting weird glances, but all he's focused on his your body lying on the cement. There are a few shouts as he runs down to your body, slipping and sliding all the way down to you. You roll onto your back to see Jisung's face right above yours, eyes widening at how quickly he'd gotten to you.

"Baby! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospit-" Jisung rambles, but you cut him off with a groan as you sit up, shaking your head, and he immediately stops talking.

You sit up cross-legged, taking a look over your limbs. With your elbows and knees protected, you've managed not to scrape anything. One of your new friends come running over as soon as she sees your on the ground, kneeling next to you on you other side.

"You okay?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"I'm fine, both of you." With some semi unnecessary help from Jisung, you stand up. "The only thing bruised here is my ego."

"Maybe we should go to the side for a second-" Jisung stops talking when the girl shoots him a look.

Noticing the way she's looking at him, you gently push her to the side and whisper something to her. She nods, giving one last look to Jisung before walking away. Taking a hold of Jisung's hand, you and him make your way back up and to your bag. He grabs it for you as you lead him over to a bench on the side.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes as you sip some water, looking out to everyone still skating, your own board sitting between your feet. It's a vibrant blue with orange accents, something Jisung picked out for you to celebrate you getting back into skating, along with the matching knee and elbow pads. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jisung fiddling with his fingers.

"I said I'm okay, you don't need to worry," You say with a soft laugh, turning your body to face him. He doesn't look at you, but he nods. "Sungie?"

"What if the board I got you is defective and that's why you fell?" Jisung looks at you briefly, glancing back to his fingers as he continues to voice his anxieties. "Or- or what if you hadn't had the pads and really got hurt?"

"Ji, look at me, please." You cup his cheek, gently making him turn; sad eyes stare back at you and your heart hurts just a bit. "None of this was because of you, and don't think of what could have happened. What matters is that I'm alright, and so are you, okay?"

He nods, and you can see a little bit of relief on his features with the small smile he gives you. You return the smile, bringing his face over to lean your foreheads together. After a moment, he pulls away just enough to place a kiss on your temple, whispering against your skin.

"You know I'd do anything for you." Jisungs hand tangles with yours, and you can feel your smile widen. "Anything, hurt or not. I'd stay by your side for a papercut."

This makes you laugh. "Remind me to text you next time I get one."

Your comment makes Jisung smile against your skin, and you back away enough to look him in the eye.

"Ready for me to go back out there?"

He nods, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, but if you do get hurt, I will be running back down there."

FELIX (wc: 851)

The two of you started the night off with some hot cocoa from a stand outside of the ice rink you were going to. Felix had been practically dying to take you out to the festival going on during the week once you both had a little time off, especially knowing your love for skating. Although the rink is small, he knew you'd love it anyway.

Now you're sitting on the side, sliding your shoes off and the skates on. The rentals fit a little loosely from all the usage, but still well enough once you tighten the laces. You help Felix with the fit of his, and all he can do is stare at you lovingly as you do this small act of service for him.

Holding hands, you lap around the ice smoothly a few times before slowing down. Neither of you really want to get off the ice yet, but you're legs are beginning to burn from the constant activity. There's a food truck of to the side, so you agree to take a break to eat and rest before continuing. You make a beeline for it on the other side of the rink, opting to go straight through rather than take your skates off early and walk around.

It's sudden, and you barely register you're falling until you've rolled off to the side. Pain radiates from your ankle, and Felix is by your side in an instant. When you look down to assess the damage, you notice your shoelace has become untied on one skate and is probably the cause of the fall. You frown; after all the years of skating, you know how to tie your laces tight enough. The one night you decide to use rentals, and you fall on your ass.

"Can you stand?" Felix asks, concern written all over his face.

You nod, letting him help you up. As soon as you put pressure on your right foot, your knees are buckling and you can't help but yelp in pain. Felix catches you, holding you tightly so you don't fall again.

"Love?" Felix holds you back a little, guiding you to sit down; thankfully, you were pretty much at the other side of the rink already. "Let me see... oh."

He pulls the skate off, along with your sock, to reveal the red, angry skin of your ankle, already beginning to swell slightly. Felix shakes his head, gently pushing your sock back up. You hiss in pain as his fingers brush the skin, an he looks up at you with worried eyes.

"We need to get you checked out, this looks bad." Felix takes your other skate off. "I'll be right back."

You watch him skate back to the other side to retrieve your belongings, manoeuvring through the crowds of people on the ice swiftly. When he returns, he helps you slip your left boot on, leaving the right one off just in case. People around you have barely even noticed the way you limp off the ice, Felix holding your right side to help take off the pressure. It doesn't take long for Felix to drive to the hospital from the rink. Despite the cold air, all you can focus on is the uncomfortable warmth from your ankle.

Entering your house with a groan, you hop stubbornly to your couch, covering your red face in embarrassment. Felix laughs softly at your reaction, kicking his shoes off before joining you. Gently, he brings your hands away from your face and brings one of his to turn your chin to look at him.

"Everyone makes mistakes, love," Felix cups your cheek when you pout. "One twisted ankle from busted skates isn't the end of the world. You'll heal, and I'll be here the whole time."

"What about-"

"No." Felix says firmly, shaking his head. "I'll be here. You're not allowed to walk without my help until you're better. Now," He takes a pillow, standing up and placing it down where he was sitting. "Let's get this thing elevated."

Felix takes your foot with care, lifting it onto the pillow. He leans over to kiss your forehead before leaving to the kitchen behind you.

"Comfort food?" He calls out, and you look back confused; he just leans against the counter with a small smile. "We didn't get to eat before, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I'll bring the flowers in for you too."

"You're too good to me," You sigh, but nod your head. "I'd love that. Can we just... cuddle after?"

"Of course we can." Felix's voice gets closer as he comes back to place another kiss on your forehead, but you want the real deal, reaching up to pull him closer by the neck.

His soft lips connect with yours and you melt into it, smiling into the kiss. When you eventually pull back, Felix leans his head on yours.

"I swear your kisses can heal me," You say quietly.

Felix looks down to where your foot sits atop the pillow, still red and swollen. "Nope, still twisted."

SEUNGMIN (wc: 922)

It's another ten minutes until you see Seungmin approaching from the other side of the food court, standing right as your eyes land on him. His hands are tucked behind his back, piquing your interest as he's clearly hiding something. Instead of stopping when he gets to you, Seungmin turns and walks a few steps backward, nodding you over to follow him with a smirk on his face. You run up to him, trying to see what he's hiding, but he keeps moving in a way you can't.

"Be patient, we need to get outside." Seungmin groans, but you can hear the playfulness in his voice.

"You know I don't like surprises-"

"No, you like to say you don't," He counters, and you feel the corners of your lips tug upward. "I know you better than that."

You exit the mall a few moments later, having only met there as a convenient spot between your two homes. Seungmin gestures you over to the emptier side of the parking lot wrapping around, and you spot a small picnic area set up; your heart skips a beat seeing the effort Seungmin has put into this.

"Min..." You run up to the picnic table, eyes gazing over the set up; there are small cakes and treats and your favourite takeout all organized on the wooden structure. You're about to speak again, but gasp instead when you turn and see what he's holding out.

Seungmin smiles at your reaction, holding your previously broken skateboard up with both hands. The wheel had broken from years of use, and you haven't had the time to go out and get it fixed, so it's been collecting dust in the corner of your room for weeks. To see that Seungmin went out of his way to have it fixed as a surprise for your anniversary date was enough to make you tear up.

Seeing your expression, Seungmin places the board on the ground and comes up to you, pulling you gently by the hands over to it. He knows how much you love to skate, how important this is for you, so he thought it'd be a nice surprise. He places a kiss on your temple, urging you to get on.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so going back and forth on the sidewalk by the table, stopping to have a few bites and talk to Seungmin. He stares at you as you head away from him again, his lips twitching up into a small smile when he sees how much you're enjoying yourself. When you turn around, you go a bit faster, wanting to get back to Seungmin quickly to give him his gift. You don't notice the way your board goes of on an angle, too excited.

"Baby, I have someth- woah!" You collide with the hard ground, cement scraping your arms as you tumble.

"Y/n!" Seungmin shoots out of his seat, kneeling next to you and helping you into a sitting position. "God, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I fall and the first thing you say to me is 'what the hell'," You try and laugh, but your eyes are stinging with unshed tears at the pain in your forearms.

Seungmin lifts your arms to him, inhaling sharply at the bloody scrapes decorating your skin. Dropping your arms, he runs back to the table, grabbing his bag. You watch him with a confused look until you spot the small first aid kit in his open bag.

"Always prepared," You mumble, pouting. You really lucked out with Seungmin.

"With a partner as clumsy as you? Of course I am," He jokes, taking out some wipes.

His touch is light as he pats the wounds, looking up at you every so often to make sure you're alright. Although you're making faces every time the wipe comes in contact with your skin, at least you aren't close to crying anymore, now used to the slight burning sensation on your raw skin. Seungmin carefully places some large bandaids on the scrapes, kissing each one as he does; his care makes your heart ache.

"I'll pack up and we can head back to yours. I don't want you getting hurt again." Seungmin declares, standing and helping you back on your feet.

"What? No," You shake your head, grabbing Seungmin's hand before he can get much further. "I want to enjoy our date how it was meant to be. They're just a few bumps and bruises, nothing I can't handle."

Seungmin looks at you, and you can tell he doesn't want to do that. What he wants is to take care of you, wrap you up in a warm blanket and never let you go. After a moment, he sighs, and you can tell he's giving in to the look you're giving him.

"Fine, but on one condition." You wait for him to continue. "We go in and buy you some new knee pads and stuff. Then you let me pamper you when we get to yours."

"Kim Seungmin, are you admitting you care about me?" You laugh, poking his cheek; he swats your hand away softly.

"Never in your wildest dreams."

"I don't know, my dreams can get pretty wild... oh!" You run over to your bag, digging to the bottom to grab an envelop. "Your gift!"

Seungmin laughs at your sudden change in topic, eyeing the envelop. Inside are two tickets to see his favourite baseball team, and you can't wait to see the look on his face.

JEONGIN (wc: 862)

"Yes, I can see." Jeongin wraps his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Oh!" You're surprised a bit from the sudden appearance and affection of your boyfriend, but lean into him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here yet."

"I got out early. Let's go get the skates."

Jeongin keeps a hand on your back the whole way to the line up to retrieve the skates. Although you have your own, he still needs some, so you wait in line with him and catch up on your days. The whole time you're talking, you can't help but be a little stuck on his comment earlier, wondering if he was being serious, but you know neither of you like grand, public gestures like that.

The rink isn't incredibly busy for a Friday night, and you aren't complaining. It's easier to do and go where you want, colourful lights reflecting off the shiny ground. You look at Jeongin beside you, reds and blues and greens dancing over his sharp features; you're mesmerized.

Which is definitely what causes you to go crashing into the wall of the rink, losing your balance and falling backward. The back of your head smacks the hard ground, and you can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes at the impact. Before you can really react, there are already gentle hands on your head trying to assess the damage. Your ears are ringing a bit, but you can hear your boyfriend's voice from above you and open your eyes, having squeezed them shut in pain.

"Y/n? Baby?" Jeongin's voice becomes clearer as he helps you sit up against the wall. "Say something, please. You're freaking me out."

"My head hurts," You whine, pouting and bringing your own hands to your head; you aren't bleeding, but there's sure to be a bump tomorrow.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Jeongin clears his throat, signaling some staff over. "We'll get you off the rink carefully, okay? You probably gave yourself a concussion or something."

It doesn't take long to get off the rink, and you let Jeongin take your skates off, too busy with holding your face in your hands to block the lights out. What you once saw as a beautiful, mood-setting atmosphere was now giving you the worst headache of your life. You keep a hand above your eyes as you leave, another attempt to block light while still being able to see where you're going.

Jeongin helps you into his car, driving you to the nearest hospital. Inside, you keep your eyes closed during the long wait, burying your head into Jeongin's shoulder. You're so grateful for him staying with you, the way his hand rubs up and down your arm bringing you comfort; movements reserved for you, and only you.

The doctor confirms you have a mild concussion, discussing the details of your rest and recover before sending you home. Once you get in, you collapse onto your couch with a groan of embarrassment.

"Want me to make you something?" You look up to see Jeongin setting his bag down and taking his coat off, giving him a confused look. "What? You really think I'm just going to drop you off at home, in pain, and dip?"

"You have things to do tomorrow-"

"Not anymore." Jeongin moves toward your kitchen. "Cancelled everything this week. I can't have you alone right now."

The casual tone of his voice has you melting, looking on at him with adoration in your eyes. You watch as he prepares you something, bringing over your favourite homemade comfort food. When he sets it down on the coffee table, you look up at him from where you're now curled up on the couch under a blanket.

"Would you hate me if I said I was too nauseous to eat right now?" You ask quietly, barely holding his gaze.

"Of course," Jeongin says with a smirk.

You reach out to smack him playfully, temporarily forgetting about your concussion and moving way too quickly. Grabbing onto the arm of the couch, you steady yourself from the wave of dizziness. Jeongin is instantly kneeling down and leaning you back, lightly scolding you as he does. A small smile forms on your face.

"You're lucky I love you," You giggle, looking at him with partially closed eyes.

"I am. I really am." Jeongin sighs, getting up to sit next to you.

Pulling him closer with your eyes closed, your hands brush the corner of something sticking out of his pocket, eyes instantly opening back up. You catch a glimpse of the corner of a red box before Jeongin begins bringing your blanket over him, but you stop him.

"You weren't kidding?" You look at him with wide eyes. It takes a moment to register what you're talking about, and then he begins to blush, hard.

"I wasn't."

"Jeongin-" He holds a finger to your lips to silence you.

"No, don't say anything. I want to wait until you're feeling better, okay?" You nod, and he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Now rest, baby. Need you healed up so I can do this the right way."

notes - HELP i actually don't know how to write anymore or smthn??? i'm so sorry if this is ass. me vs feeling insecure abt my writing ahahahahaha anyway. thank u for the request! i feel like maybe this didn't go the right direction sjdksk this is partially unedited too bc i kind of can't stand to reread my own writing so many times rn, so i apologize for any mistakes 🤡

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

#⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆#🔮 anon!#skz texts #skz fake texts #skz #stray kids texts #stray kids fake texts #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

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yzzart · 11 months ago

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hello, my love! how're you? I hope you're well

could you write one more compilation between tom and y/n? further detailing their relationship with the rest of the cast. I love seeing you include Rachel in your writing, and I'd love to see her recording, commenting and showing more tweets about y/n and tom!!

thank you very much for your generous and sweet attention ❤️☺️

"Definitely an old couple."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: your fans are obsessed with compilations of you and tom being an old married couple.

word count: 604!

notes: your request is an order, my sweet anon! and in the future i will post a request showing the tweets that Rachel shared with reader 😼!!

"Our beautiful lovebirds." — The camera, which was recording a video, is pointed at you and Tom, who were sitting in your chairs and observing yourself in the mirror that had been placed by the makeup artists. — "I love calling them that." — She commented alone, then, laughing; until Tom put the peacekeeper helmet on your head, all the while laughing about how adorable he looked.

Quickly, he grabbed his cell phone that was on the table in front of him and took a photo; in fact, more than two photos. — Suddenly, the camera goes into frontal mode, showing Rachel's image.

"A cliché couple, i love them."

"About the movie, i'm curious to know, in your opinion, what was the best thing about it?" — The interviewer asked, uncrossing her legs and waiting, attentively, for the answers.

"The best thing?" — A fake thoughtful frown formed on your face. — "I really think it was seeing blond Tom…?" — Tom hit your leg, laughing along with the interviewer; you tried to maintain a serious expression, conveying an air of confidence with your answer, a very complicated mission. — "Oh, and the worst thing was him returning to his natural color." — Your eyes swept over Tom, who continued to laugh, smiling listening to the sound of his laugh.

"That's not possible." — He recovered, running his hand through his coat, fixing it a little, and turning his head to the side, looking at you; his lips were still forming a mischievous smile. — "I remember you saying you're the number one fan of my natural hair." — Tom crossed his arms with a defiant look, and tilted his head.

"And i am, my dear." — Imitating his action, you also crossed your arms, teasing your boyfriend; Tom lightly pushed your arm and placed a hand on your thigh.

"Oh, and Tom and Y/n're, like, Lenny's godparents." — Rachel fixed her headphones, removing some strands that were in her ears, turning her head to the interviewer and Tom. — "Sometimes i feel like he prefers them over me." — She joked, feigning a melancholic frown and forming a small pout.

"It's just that she and i are his favorites now." — Tom replied, earning laughs from the interviewer and Rachel.

"And Y/n is the clear winner!" — Tom announced, clasping his hands together and looking at the camera, watching one of the producers, who worked behind the cameras, prepare to present the small prize. — "Can i dedicate a speech demonstrating my pride or is it too early?" — Rachel laughed, not believing his words and finding it funny, accompanied by Josh, with you making a gesture of reference. — "Please, honey."

"I don't know but i'll listen." — You replied, arranging a high-five with your boyfriend and noticing the presence of the little prize approaching. — "This is for me?" — Tilting your hand, you took the enchanting object and admired it; something that looked like a miniature Oscar, and was really adorable.

"When you're the best, you're the best." — Rachel and Josh spoke together.

"And i think Y/n just arrived!" — The interviewer commented, tilting her head towards a small crowd that was forming at the beginning of the red carpet; and several flashes and some screams were witnessed by everyone at the scene.

"Oh, she's here." — Leaning his hands on the railing and moving away, Tom ran his eyes over the crowd; until, finally, he had the opportunity to see you and, automatically, an exuberant glow remained in his deep blue eyes. — You were so beautiful, always have been, he thought. — "Look at her." — His tone was low, but so admirable and enchanted. — "I need to ask her for an autograph."

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus #snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas

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wholoveseggs · 25 days ago

Text

Kinktober - {Day Nineteen}

{<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Elijah Mikaelson x F!Reader} Request {Anon}: Heyyyyyy. So I saw your kinktober thing and I know you said you had alot of elijah ones.........so imma add another if that'd alright with you. Is it okay if I do bullet points? . Female reader .dom/sub .choking kink .sir kink (optional!!!!!) .maybe some jealous elijah? .oh and established relationship? I hope that's makes sense and isn't to much or too little (EVERYTHING IS OPTIONAL!!!!)

♡♡♡ Anon, Anon, Anon... optional???? of course I'm going to do all of the kinks! ♡♡♡

1.7k words - Kinks: dom!elijah, jealous!elijah, sir kink, choking kink & rough sex ..

To the undiscerning eye, it was an innocent exchange, a polite conversation between strangers. He asked you your name, his eyes lingering a little too long on the shape of your mouth as you smiled. Your name rolled off his tongue as though it were an old acquaintance, someone he had known his entire life. He was polite, charming even, but just a little too forward, the conversation just a little too familiar for the few words that were exchanged.

So when your boyfriend walked up behind you, placing his hand on the small of your back, a move that could only be described as a subtle, yet obvious claim, you weren't the least bit surprised. He wasn't a man to be ignored or disrespected, and though you weren't his possession to own, you knew that you were his and his alone. He made sure of that.

One look was all it took for this stranger to recognize his mistake, a silent understanding passing between the two men, and without so much as a glance in your direction, the stranger turned on his heels and left.

"Was that really necessary?" You asked, trying to keep the grin from spreading across your face.

Elijah merely arched a brow at you, his hand sliding down your spine before his arm wrapped around your waist.

"He was harmless." You shrugged, secretly enjoying how jealous he got. It was one of the more obvious signs of his love, the way his jaw tensed and his nostrils flared as he watched this stranger talk to you. It was an almost primal response, and even though he tried to hide it, the way his eyes narrowed told you all that you needed to know.

Elijah leaned into you, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he whispered. "The next time a man looks at you the way that he just did, I'm going to fuck you right then and there."

You let out a soft chuckle at his words, knowing that they were just that, empty threats. Elijah Mikaelson didn't share and he didn't like others looking at what belonged to him.

"I don't see why you're laughing," He continued. "I'm serious."

His gaze darkened, a mischievous glint sparking in his dark irises, and the grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer.

"You would never let another person see me like that."

"I grow tired of this party," He said, his lips brushing over your forehead.

"I'd consider it, just to see the look on his face." Elijah countered, pressing his lips against the crown of your head as he pulled you closer. His hands ran down your sides, the hem of your dress hitching up ever so slightly. He looked around the room, at every man who dared glance in your direction, a smile tugging at his lips, and his chest puffed out with pride as he thought about the fact that none of them would ever get to have you.

"Let's go then," You replied, taking his hand.

"As you wish," Elijah smiled.

With a his hand in yours, he led you through the crowd of people, offering a polite nod to those who greeted him. He wasn't in the mood for small talk or formalities, not when there were far more important matters to attend to.

~~~

As soon as the door of his bedroom shut behind him, Elijah pressed you up against the wall, his lips ghosting over your neck.

"Tell me," He whispered, his hands roaming over your body. "Did you enjoy it, the way that man looked at you."

"I didn't notice," You breathed.

"Liar. I could hear your heart racing, the way your blood rushed through your veins. I bet you're soaking wet for him, aren't you?" He growled, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

"No, just for you."

Elijah's hand found the column of your throat, squeezing slightly as he forced you to look at him. His thumb caressed your jaw as his lips hovered over yours.

"Say it again."

"Just for you," You whispered.

"That's right," He growled. "Mine."

He captured your lips in a heated kiss, his hand leaving your neck, and his fingers threaded through your hair. You loved when he got wild and rough with you, the way he kissed you and fucked you and reminded you who you belonged to.

When he broke the kiss, you were panting, and you could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh.

"Stay just like this," he commanded, stepping back.

He removed his jacket and tie and tossed them aside before loosening his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. His gaze was dark and intense, and you felt a thrill run down your spine at the way he stared at you, his eyes raking over your body, and his lips curled into a smirk.

"Are you going to punish me, Sir?" You teased.

"Do you think you deserve to be punished?"

"Maybe," You grinned.

Elijah's hand was back on your throat in an instant, his grip tightening as he pushed you back against the wall. He leaned in close, his nose brushing over yours, and you could feel his warm breath fanning over your lips.

"Do you like making me jealous?" He asked, his voice low and husky.

"Maybe." You repeated, unable to hold back a smile.

His expression grew dark, and his grip on your throat tightened.

"You're mine," He growled, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

"All yours," You breathed.

"Say it again."

"Only yours, sir."

Elijah smirked. He knew what he wanted to do, and you were willing to give him whatever he desired.

"Strip."

You did as he commanded, slowly removing your dress, letting it pool around your feet, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Good girl," He murmured.

Elijah's hand slid over your skin, his fingers tracing every curve of your body, and his breath hitched in his throat when his fingers dipped between your thighs, feeling how wet you were.

"Is this for me?"

"Yes, sir." You moaned, biting your bottom lip.

Elijah's fingers teased your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, and your eyes fluttered shut as pleasure coursed through your veins.

"Open your eyes, look at me," He ordered.

Your eyes flew open, and Elijah smirked.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now? Bare before me, so obedient."

"Please," You whimpered, bucking your hips, searching for more friction from his skilled fingers.

"No begging, you don't get to make demands."

He stepped back, and you almost cried out at the loss of contact, but his commanding tone made you stay quiet. He undid his belt and slid it through the loops, letting it drop to the floor, his pants hung low on his hips, his cock straining against the fabric, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

"Get on the bed, on your knees, and face the headboard," He said, his voice stern.

You climbed onto the bed and assumed the position, kneeling with your back to him. The sound of his zipper coming undone had you squeezing your thighs together, and when you heard the rustle of his pants being discarded, your anticipation grew.

You waited with bated breath, expecting to feel the cool leather of his belt, or his hands on your hips, but nothing came. Instead, his fingertips danced along the length of your spine, and he shoved your head down against the mattress, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

"Tell me," He growled. "What would you have done if that man had tried to touch you the way I do?"

"I would have kneed him in the balls and told him I was spoken for."

Elijah let out a chuckle, and the sound went straight to your core. You loved hearing him laugh, especially when he was like this, all dominant and in charge.

"Good answer," He purred, his lips pressing against the nape of your neck.

Without warning, he pushed into you, his cock filling you to the hilt, and you cried out in pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, pounding you with deep strokes.

Elijah's hand slid up your chest and settled on your throat, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure.

"I'd kill him, rip his heart out, and feed it to him," He growled, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "He would never touch you, not while I'm around."

"Yes," You moaned, arching into his touch.

Elijah's pace slowed, his strokes becoming long and drawn-out, but still hard enough to make you cry out. His fingers were still wrapped around your throat, his other hand holding onto your hip, and he pulled out completely, only to slam back into you, drawing another moan from your lips.

"Fuck," He hissed, his cock throbbing inside of you.

He kept the slow pace, torturing you, making you writhe and squirm beneath him, begging for more. You could feel the pleasure building, the coil tightening in your core, and you knew that you were close.

"Please," You whimpered.

"Say it again," He groaned.

"Please sir, please make me cum."

Elijah's grip on your hair tightened, and he began to fuck you harder, his pace becoming erratic, his cock slamming into you. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room, and you could feel yourself nearing the edge.

"That's it, my good girl," He moaned.

Your walls clenched around him, and you let out a guttural cry, the sound mingling with his, and you came undone. You felt him spill himself inside of you and he let out a satisfied groan, his body going rigid.

He released your hair, and the two of you collapsed onto the mattress, your body shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. He stayed buried inside of you, his chest pressed against your back, and his breathing heavy.

"Mine," He whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

"Yours."

{<- kinktober masterlist}

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tarjapearce · 1 year ago

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Lips anon! Gabi being protective of her Mama during pregnancy. Her little sibling is in there! I also imagined Gabi being upset when the baby is a boy after labor lmao

"Mama?" Her gentle voice whispered next to you as you were rubbing ointments and oils to your belly.

"Does it hurts?" Big round dark eyes peeked over your swollen belly as you soothed your hand over it.

"Not precisely hurt. More like uncomfortableness. Give me your hand." She did and you placed it on your belly.

"Can you feel it?" She gasped upon seeing your skin moving, and then a kick, right on her hand.

"Oh" You breathed then smiled, "This baby will be a kicker, just like you."

"Did I kick alot?" You smiled as your hand caressed her hair, she had laid ontop of your belly to hear or feel more sounds and movements

"Not really, but when you did, they were powerful." Gabriela giggled and rubbed her hand on your belly.

"You better stop kicking mommy" you heard her whisper, and it brought tears to your eyes

"M-Mommy? why are you crying?"

You half laughed half sobbed.

"Hormones make me be all over the place, solecito."

"Oh. Is there anything I can help you with right now?"

God she was so sweet, and it only made your tears roll down.

"Give me a hug." She did, carefully, wrapping her arms around you.

"You'll be the best big sister, ok? Look at me."

Her eyes stared at you and you cupped her cheeks.

"Having a new baby is quite difficult, meaning that sometimes I'll be spending alot of time with the baby." She nodded, "But not because of it means I will stop loving you ok? A baby is someone whom must be taught everything you already know. Something that takes time."

"You're still going to my games, right?"

"Ah mi amor, you know I'll never miss them. And if I can't do it, I'll ask your dad to record it for me to watch later."

She beamed and laid your head on your shoulder. Tears had stopped for a bit.

"Does ir hurts to... bring a baby?"

You couldn't help but chuckle and nod

"Yeah. Alot."

"Sorry"

"For?"

"Causing you pain"

Shaking your head you placed a kiss on her forehead.

"If that would mean to have you, I'd do it all over again."

"How would you name thr baby?"

"We still haven't thought about it."

"If it's a girl? Maybe Rosie, I like that name"

" It's a pretty name, yeah and if it's a boy?"

"Maybe like Papa." you laughed and held her tighter.

Miguel just watched from afar, a warm feeling seeping through his chest.

-----

You were exhausted, sweat etched to your skin, body still burning but it had been worth it. The bundle of joy tucked in your arms, latching on your left swollen breast, tiny fist resting on the curvature of your breast, eyes closed too focused in anything that wasn't food.

Gabriela peeked out from the left side of the bed, and stared at the baby, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I wanted a sister"

Miguel chuckled and rubbed her shoulders.

"I know, Solecito."

"He eats alot." You nodded with a tired smile, cooing the baby.

"Reminds me of a little soccer star I love so much"

"I ate alot too?

"Oh yeah, alot. You were a healthy baby as well."

"I looked prettier, right?" her nose scrunched up a little when seeing carefully the baby.

Miguel and you laughed softly

"Of course you did, mi amor."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel fluff #gabi o'hara #💋 anon #t writes✨#Soccer Family⚽🕷️

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femd-archive · 4 months ago

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hiiii!! omg i love ur work sm it just scratches an itch i’ve had forever, i’ve always loved the dom reader + sub male character relationship and ur work is perfect! if it’s okay could i be 🌺 anon if you use the emoji system for that?

i have a request if ur taking them atm, i saw ur sub kenji oneshots and i was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a subby kenji x reader w a lot of miscommunication or general angst bc that’s my absolute fave!! w all the smut you want ofc!

and if you don’t want to take the request that’s totally cool! i really just wanted to tell you ur writing is amazing and ily!

— 🌺

hello! thanks for ur request :] and of course u can be 🌺 anon! i also love angst, more so the hurt/comfort trope, but i'm really bad at writting it (╥‸╥) so this was my attempt to write a hurt/comfort fic for the first time. hope u like it! i'll practice to make it better next time (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

p.s.: i didn't add much smut, mostly because my brain is fried :p

NOT ALONE

pairing: ultraman: rising — ken sato x fem!reader

word counting: 2.7k

content warning: arguing | kenji is so stressed :( | riding | unprotected sex | masturbation (female)

side note: english is not my first lenguage, so i apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes

You notice, of course you notice.

You love and care for Kenji too much to not notice the dark circles under his eyes because of the lack of sleep; the way he's been more sensitive, even over the most little things; how he overworks himself in his baseball practices and won't stop unless Mina turns the stadium hologram off.

You knew how his relationship with his father was, but you have seen the way he declines his calls without a second thought now, knowing the guilt trip he had to overcome before he even hit the decline button on his watch before.

You notice, and of course you're worried about it. You didn't have to be his girlfriend to be worried. Hell, you would even be worried by just seeing him walk like a zombie in the streets as a stranger! And all that worry is what brings you in front of his mansion door at midnight.

He hasn't been answering your messages nor calls. You get it, he's a busy baseball player, but he always made at least a few minutes to reply to your messages, mostly saying sorry for not picking up your calls and that he'll call you back after he's done with an interview, telling you that he loves you.

After ringing his doorbell, you only had to wait for a few minutes before you could hear the hurried footsteps coming to the door. Opening it, there he was. With his adorable bed head, he looked up at you, tired eyes wide with surprise.

"Baby" his voice cracked, making him clear his throat before he talks again. "Hey baby, uhm...I didn't know that you were coming!" he laughs nervously.

"Well...I did text you" you shake your phone, and Kenji gulps.

"I..." he sighs, "I'm sorry baby. I just been...so busy later" he groans, rubbing a hand over his face with fatigue.

"I understand, Kenji. May I come in? I just wanna talk with you. It's been a while"

Kenji looks at you through his sleepy eyes, and even in that state, you were able to see the way his eyes softened at the sight of you. It really has been a while. He reaches a hand to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"Of course" he mumbles, low but loud enough for you to hear him. He moves his hand from your face to your hand, taking it and pulling you softly inside, closing the door behind him.

You guys walk over the kitchen. Kenji lets go of your hand to walk over the fridge. "Do you want anything?" he asks, referring to the fridge's content.

[Name] sucks in a breath, gathering courage to speak. "Yeah, I'd like for us to talk" she finally said, noticing how Kenji's shoulder tense as he close the door's fridge, staying there with a can of soda in his head, not facing her. "For you to talk to me, Kenji. I believe you when you say you're busy with baseball, I really do! But I thrust my gut to know that there's something else going on"

She walks closer to him, staring at his broad back. How she wishes she could just hug him from behind and erase all his problems. But the world is more complicated than that, and she knows it.

"You can't always rely on your gut to make conclusions" opening the can soda, Kenji spit those words with a gruff tone, making [Name] surprised over his mood change.

Of course she wasn't off limits of seeing him mad only because she was his girlfriend, but she didn't expect for him to talk to her like that over a simple request.

"Then talk to me, Kenji. I don't wanna be like this either" she starts talking, following Kenji as he walks away while drinking from the can. "You don't have to tell me everything, but at least admit that you're having a hard time so I can at least hold you"

Kenji lets out a chuckle, incredulous. "Hard time? Baby, I'm Ken Sato! I don't have hard times, I only have good times" he spread his arms beside him, trying to appear as flawless as ever, obtaining a deadpan face from you.

"Kenji, you look like shit" you simply say. "You can barely walk with your eyes open. I don't know about anyone else, but I can see the lack of sleep in your eyes, I can see how your shoulder has been bothering you more each day that passes. I know that you always work hard to be on a good shape for the games, but you go to an extent that is not healthy"

"What? Did you became a physician now?" he asks after finishing rubbing his eyes, a mocking tone on his words.

"What? No" you needed to take a breath to not break. "I'm just concerned about your well being"

"I am okay" he affirms, eyebrows furrowed. "You're the that's being like 'Ohh Kenji ~ you're so tired. You should rest up'" with a high pitched tone, he mimicks you in a mocking way while pouting exaggeratedly.

You feel your heart beating fast on your chest, your cheeks hot with embarrassement. Why was he behaving like that? You just want to help. Were you being too overboard? You give him his space, you have gave it to him for weeks. And that you finally thought it was a good time to adress his lack of selfcare and how sad he looks, he talks to you like this...

"I know that you're having a hard time, Kenji. Everyone that cares about you can notice that. I just...I just want to help in what I can" you say with a weak tone now. You had shrunk in your spot, suddenly feeling sorry for even going to his house in the first place.

"Well guess what? You can't help me"

In a desperate attempt to push you away —because if you kept looking at him with those pretty eyes, he'll spill everything— he's mean to you. Not the smartest choice to treat your lover, but that's the only response that he could muster at the moment.

He was flustered at the confrontation. Of course you will notice about his poor state. You love him and care too much for him to not notice that he's going insane little by little, but he doesn't want to share that burden with you. In his mind, he just can't.

You look up at him, big sad eyes that just make him want to hug you until you both forget this stupid moment.

Holding back your tears, the only thing you could do was sigh. Your heart feels heavy on your chest, wunded by his words and harsh tone. You're not the savior of the word, you're not Ultraman either, you just wanted to help your boyfriend...

"Yeah, I already knew that" you mumble. Taking a deep breath, you look up at him with a weak smile. "Alright, you might not want to talk right now, but if you need anything...I'm always gonna be there" you remind him, giving him one last look before starting to walk off to the front door.

Kenji looks at you go. You seemed little with the way your shoulders shrunk and you walked slowly, like an injured animal. His heart also feels heavy on his chest, a pang of guilt striking over all his body as his eyes are already watering with tears.

He hated that his stupid pride wouldn't let him as for help, for it to hurt you when the only thing you wanted to do was help him in whatever way you could.

He knew you weren't weak, he knew that you could be able to handle all the secrets that he's harboring on his chest, but he doesn't want to share the burden, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you only because you know he's Ultraman.

What would he do if he lost you? He's sure that he was gonna lose his mind. Just the same way he'll lose his mind if he let you walk away through that door.

"Mina, lock the door" he commanded, and in a split of a second, the computer did so.

You didn't even try to open it after you've heard his command. Confused, you look back at Kenji, who's already walking towards you like a kicked puppy.

"Forgot to say something?" you ask, bitterness on your tone that made Kenji cringe.

He sighs, a guilty expression on his face. "Yes...I'm sorry baby" he begins. "I...I promise that I want to tell you, I want to tell you everything! But— it's...it's too dangerous"

And finally, after months of bottling all this emotions, Kenji finally breaks into loud sobs, fat tears running down his cheeks. Startled, [Name] didn't have any other reflections than hug him, even though she was still mad at his earlier attitude.

"Hey, hey" she whispered, running a hand up and down his back. "It's okay, it's okay"

Kenji wraps his arms around her shoulders, hiding his face on her neck. "I don't—" he chokes, "I don't want anything to happen to you" he cries, almost incomprehensible.

"Nothing is gonna happen to me, baby" she reassures, feeling his tears run down her neck and wetting her shirt, but she doesn't care about it. Kenji finally is being open with her, and that's all that matter.

Kenji sniffs a few times before talking with a weak voice. "Promise?" he asks.

She squeezes him a little bit more in her arms. "I promise"

Still sniffing, Kenji slowly pulls away from the hug, looking at his girlfriend with his big eyes full of tears, a cute pout in his lips. [Name] reaches her hands to run her thumbs under his eyes, drying his tears away. He nuzzles into her, a shaky breath exhaling out of him as he calms down.

"There you go" she whispers softly, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs now. "Come on, let's sit on the couch. I'll get you some water"

After a lot of reassurance that nothing was gonna happen and lots of cuddles, Kenji had finally told her everything. That his dad was Ultraman; that he took his legacy and he now serves as the new Ultraman to the city of Tokyo, and how he knows he's not doing a good job; that he has a 6 feet tall baby Kaiju that think he's her mother trapped in a container, and he clearly don't know how to take care of her; how much he misses his mother everyday...

[Name] listened to him attentively, her heart swelling at how much pain Kenji had to endure on his own and feeling guilty about not noticing sooner. Why she couldn't have been there for him? Right now, everything seemed so obvious, all of it happen in front of her, and she couldn't do nothing.

Her caresses on the back of his hand never stopped for even one second, even caressing his back when he needed to make a pause to cry.

Now they were cuddled up in the couch under a blanket. After spilling everthing out, Kenji just let himself fall into her arms and bask into her warmth.

"Thank you for telling me, Kenji. I really didn't wanna pressure you into talking, but you looked so sick...I was just so worried" she blinked back the tears, she needed to be strong for him now. "And yeah, it's a lot to take in. Like damn...I'm dating Ultraman" her comment makes Kenji giggle, his body trembling with laughter in her arms, "but it's nothing that we can't overcome, together" she remarks the last word. "And it's not something that it's gonna make me love you any less"

Kenji pulls away from her arms to make eye contact, his puffy eyes still able to show how soft they become when he looks at her. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out for you to talk. I just— I don't know how to ask for help" he admits, feeling a weight that he didn't know he had on his chest being gone.

"Well, admiting that is a big first step, so I'm really proud of you for that" she kisses his forehead, making him smile. "And we can work on that. We can search for professional service, that wpuld help out a lot. And, I'm always gonna be there for you" she reminds him, running her fingers through his hair.

She cups his cheeks, making him look at her in the eyes. "You're not a burden, Kenji. Your problems are valid and I'm always gonna be up to hearing them and help you in what I can and I can't do. We're in this together, alright? You're not alone anymore"

[Name] saw the way that Kenji's eyes swell with this again, a small pout on his lips as he gulps softly. He nods, slowly, letting her words sink in. He was not alone...he had her. It was not something that it would easily stick in his mind, but he'll try to remind himelf everyday. He was not alone anymore.

She leaned in, going for a kiss, and Kanji meet her midway, kissing her with yearn after all those weeks that they couldn't be together, that they couldn't touch each other. He could've barely see her with his busy schedule, and that also added to all his stress, all this mess. All he needed was to be in her arms.

Kenji takes one of [Name]'s hands that cupped his cheek and slide it down his shirt at the same time he traced her bottom lip with his tongue.

[Name] pulls away from the kiss, almost smiling when she hears Kenji whine and chase after her lips, desperate. "Hey, you really wanna do this? You're still tired, Kenji" she reproached.

"Please baby" he whines, looking at her eyes and then her lips, intensely. "I need you"

Kenji straddles his girlfriend's lap completely, letting her feel his hard cock against her stomach. [Name] gasps softly, looking up at Kenji's cute needy face as he starts rocking his hips softly.

She bits down her bottom lip before pulling him into another kiss where he moans.

They didn't even realize when did Mina lowered the lights. How could they? When they were so engrossed in each other's touch. The room was filled with the couple's moans and their skin hitting against each other.

Kenji was laying down on the couch, [Name] on top of him, as they hugged each other thightly while she moved her hips up and down, Kenji's dick hitting the right spot with every thrust.

Kenji's grip on [Name]'s waist just get tighter as he hide his moans in her neck. "Baby...baby" he calls for her, feeling his orgasm coming.

"I know baby, I know" she kisses his shoulder. "Go ahead, you can cum" she reassures, speeding the pace of her thrusts.

Kenji meets his girlfriend's hips midway, bucking his own as he hits the last thrusts before sliding out of her, ropes of cum shooting out of his tip, dirtying [Name]'s back, his thighs and the expensive couch under them. But who cared? He could buy another one.

[Name] brings her hand to her clit, making circle motions on it with her fingers as she grins on Kenji's abs. He manages to look up at her with cloudy eyes, brain still fuzzy with the euphoria of his recent climax. Still, his hands come up to caress her thighs, encouraging her to keep using him to get off.

"S' pretty" he slurs, running his thumbs on her skin.

"Fuck...Kenji" with his name on her lips, she ends up cumming with a few more motions of her fingers before collapsing on top of her boyfriend's chest.

They stayed there, in each other's embrace as they calmed down. Kenji's finger run softly down [Name]'s arm, his free arm wrapped around her waist.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you get off" he whispers suddenly, making [Name] chuckle.

"It's okay. To be fair, you're about to pass out now" she props her chin on his chest, looking at him with dreamy eyes. Kenji chuckles as well, not denying it. "Come on, let's take a bath and then you can finally have some good night sleep" patting his chest softly, she starts getting up and helps him as well.

"Are you gonna introduce me to the baby Kaiju tomorrow?" she asks as they walk together to the bathroom.

"Oh yeah, and she's gonna love ~ you. Just like I do ~" he litters her cheek with kisses, making her giggle.

"Come on, Romeo. Let's take a bath"

[taglist] @vinegarjello

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 4 months ago

Text

a best friends to lovers trope with eddie where he goes to reader about every date, hookup etc for her advice which she sadly provides. that is until she sets a boundary with the excuse that she’s tired of constantly helping him like this (but also because she’s in love with him and it hurts)

happy ending please (or not) do what you want and i hope this helps 🩷🩷

May I request a fluffy Eddie piece where reader had a long day and she quite literally collapses in Eddie's lap cause she's so tired, and her head is in his lap and he's stroking her hair cause he's so in love with her??

Combined these two requests because I thought it would be cute. You'll see ❤️🥰

Request by anon.

❤️

"Do you think Sammy will like this shirt?" Eddie asks worriedly. He's holding up another band shirt and you nod, feeling the familiar ache inside of you.

It happens every time Eddie has a date. To Eddie you were his official advice giver, he asked you for help with every date he had and it ranged anywhere from what to wear, to what flowers he was to get, to kissing etiquette on a first date.

Dutifully you answered every query and worry but over the last few months, it has been tiring. It's been difficult to separate your feelings for Eddie and act like him going on dates isn't killing you inside.

The pressure was too much and you can't hear any more about Sammy or Tina or Anna or whoever he's dated in the past couple of months. You don't want to be selfish as he's your best friend but if you don't say something then you'll just get even more upset and withdrawn inside.

"Eddie, stop. Stop please I can't do this anymore. We need to have some boundaries" Eddie stills and gazes at you stunned. He literally looks like a deer in headlights and you feel so bad but this has to be done.

"What's wrong princess?" he sounds so concerned and your heart aches even more that you have to do this.

"I'm so in love with you and I can't do this anymore, I can't. It's killing me inside because I so desperately want to be with you but you don't feel the same and I have to hear about all of your dates when I know you would never feel that way about me, ever"

It all comes out in a big rush and by the time you've taken a breath, Eddie looks stunned.

"Uh, I... Shit" he gasps out and you feel absolutely humiliated. Fuck. What if you've ruined everything with Eddie.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I have to go" you rush out before he can say anything else.

❤️

You're going to stay in your room forever and not see anyone. It's the only way that you could get over confessing your biggest secret.

Now Eddie would be on his date and what if he had a problem and felt like he couldn't turn to you because you made everything so awkward. So you were staying right here and hopefully after some time everything would be okay.

You would face Eddie tomorrow. Unfortunately for you Eddie has other plans. There's a knock on your window and Eddie is sitting outside on the slate of your roof.

Panicking that he might fall you rush to get the door open and he tumbles inside. He gets to his feet and smiles impishly, all dimples. God you loved him.

"Hi Eddie, uh how was the date?" Oh real smooth you idiot. Ask him that after you blew up at him. Eddie blushes and ducks his head shyly.

"There was no date, sweetheart, I've been thinking about what you said and I can't believe that the girl of my dreams is in love with me"

"Sweetheart, I never thought you'd ever be interested in me. So I dated and shit, hoped I'd forget you but that's impossible" he caresses your cheek and rests his forehead against yours.

When his lips meet yours for your first kiss, you feel like you're in heaven, you can't believe that this is happening.

"Would have saved a lot of heartache if you just told me that Eddie" you point out and his cheeks darken.

"I know princess but if you give me a chance then I will make it up to you, I promise. What do you say?"

Pleased you nod, "Okay" he's beaming at this point and presses his lips you yours again.

"Get ready for Eddie Munson's guide to wooing, will sweep you off your feet baby" he winks and you roll your eyes giggling at his antics. Idiot.

But now he was your loveable idiot.

❤️

Six months later

Geez you were so tired. It had been a busy day at Family Video and you were so tired, like you could barely keep your eyes open because you were so sleepy.

Some of the customers had been trying on your patience today and you had a headache on top of being so tired.

Steve had dropped you off at Eddie's and all you wanted to do was cuddle up with your adorable boyfriend. Eddie cuddles healed all (at least in your opinion)

When you head inside and straight to Eddie's room he's waiting up for you and pats his knee so you collapse on it and feel the tension leave your body for the first time today.

"Ugh, today was shit" you moan as Eddie softly strokes your hair, his big brown eyes gaze down at you lovingly. The love in his eyes always took your breath away, you couldn't believe that Eddie loved you this much.

It mirrored how much you loved and adored him.

"Oh, my princess, you want me to run you a bath? We could watch The Princess Bride and eat the cookies that Max baked for us?" that sounds so nice but for now you just want Eddie to hold you.

"In a bit babe, can we just stay like this for a little bit longer" he agrees with this and continues stroking your hair softly.

"As you wish"

❤️

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #friends to lovers #eddie munson x best friend reader

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sillysillygoofygoose · 10 months ago

Note

Helloooo can I request single dad Toji living with his son megumi but then neighbor reader moves in and yk HAHHAHAH anyways love ur works

Hi!! Okay, okay, okay SOOOOO cute 🥰 I LOVE this trope sooooo much. Thank you smmm anon 💕💕 I have the smexiest ask in my inbox rn, so I thought I would start with some innocent fluff 🤭

Toji is like... super down bad in this one btw

One and a Half Men □○

Toji swore off of dating the day he became a single father. Never again, he told himself. He was too busy. Too preoccupied. Too grown to be playing a twenty-something year old's game. It was evident by his whisps of gray hair, earned over the three and a half challenging years of fatherhood.

When Megumi was first born, Toji found him and his bundle of joy a nice enough apartment, conveniently next to an uninhabited one so Megumi's cries wouldn't wake up any neighbors. Toji kept his head down and focused on what he needed to do. He worked, he took care of his baby boy, and he just kept moving forward.

And he kept good on his promise... very good. Until you showed up.

"Oh, good morning Megumi! Hi Mr. Toji, how are you guys doing today?"

There you were. A beautiful, shining sweetheart, kind and angelic down to your very core. A college student, roughly twenty years old, full of life and hope and love. And the Fushiguro's neighbor of six months.

"I told ya' a million times doll, don't call me Mr. Anything. Makes me feel older than I already am." Toji can't help the way his heart pulses in his chest everytime you flash that bright smile his way. He wishes he could.

"Okay, Mr. Toji." You giggle him off, shrugging away his gruff tone as Megumi let's go of his dad's finger and starts waddling over to you, the smallest smile parting his chubby cheeks.

"Hi y~y/n. M'mmorning. I have new shirt." Megumi makes his way over to you, grabbing your hand with one of his while the other stretches the fabric of his yellow and blue t-shirt towards you, showing it off.

"Oh wow! I see! You look very dapper this morning, Megumi!" Toji watches as you crouch down in front of Megumi, absent-mindedly patting down the raven strands of hair protruding out of the little boys' scalp

Hm, Toji thinks, watching as you blabber back and forth with the little man, smile widening more and more with every word Megumi stumbles out.

A buzzing notification from his phone distracts him from the heartwarming scene. Fuck, graveyard shift tonight.

"Well, I'm very glad you like it, you look suuuuper handsome, just like your daddy." Toji's ears perk up when he hears that. He let's a smirk slip when he realizes you're already looking at him, holding little Gumi's hand.

Hearing Megumi's quiet giggles reminds him of his current conundrum. He doesn't have anyone to look after Megumi tonight.

"Um hey, y/n, are you busy tonight?" Toji scratches the back of his neck, keeping a cool composure as his heart picks up speed.

"No, I don't think so! Why?" You stand up, caressing Megumi's head when he clings to your legs.

"I don't like asking for favors, but could you watch Megumi tonight? I'll pay ya." Toji ignores Megumi's excited squeal at the mention of spending the night at your place, knowing at this rate, he would probably have the same reaction.

"Oh my god, I'd love to! You really don't have to pay me, it would be my pleasure. He's such a little gentleman." Almost as excited as Megumi, you agree, softly squeezing the toddler's tiny shoulders.

You say your goodbyes, explaining how you need to run to the store and that Toji can drop Megumi off whenever.

As you wave goodbye, Megumi turns back to his daddy, huge smile overtaking his dumpling face.

"Yay, tank you dada! I wuv y/n, so nice and pretty." Toji has never seen his little boy so excited.

"Yeah, me too, little guy." Toji mused, walking down the apartment building's hallway, distracted by confirming his shift with his boss.

"Dada wove y/n too?" Megumi mumbles to himself, looking up at his dad with bright, hopeful eyes.

"Uhm, huh? Uh she's a very nice young lady, Megs." Realizing what he said, he backtracks, distracting Megumi with under chin tickles.

"Okay Dada." Megumi giggles, scrunching his chin to his chest, trying to stop the tingles infecting his little body.

...

Megumi was quick to warm up to you when you first moved in. It was just something about you. Maybe it was the same thing that had Toji head over heels the moment he first talked to you.

You were so refreshing to be around. Both Toji and Megumi were so used to only having each other. A young, smiling, motherly woman was such a fulfilling person to have around. Like a missing piece. Your presence was magnetic to the small family, both of them adoring you, only in different ways.

Everything about you was so beautiful. It almost made Toji nervous...

"Dada... knock knock." Megumi pulls Toji's hand towards your door, reminding him of the task at hand.

"You got it bud." Toji picks Megumi up under his armpits, letting him do the knocking.

Immediately, the door swings open, revealing a smiling you, clad in a flimsy tank top and baggy sweatpants.

"Megumi!!" You exclaim, laughing as the little boy grabs your neck and transfers himself into your arms.

"Yayyayayay, y/n!" Megumi squeezes you before turning to his dad.

"Bye bye, dada. Night night." Megumi immediately waves to his dad, almost kicking him out.

"Hold on, little man. Let me talk to y/n for a minute." Toji huffed a laugh as you smiled, moving to the side to let him in.

Toji declined coming in, explaining that he didn't want to intrude. He began explaining that Megumi was due for sleep, saying how it's already way past his bedtime. You point to your room, assuring him that Megumi would be sleeping like a king and that you were drowning in school work, too much to worry about sleeping on the couch.

Toji nodded along, beginning to tune your melodic voice out as he observed the way a sleepy Megumi snuggled into your neck, and the way your hand cradled his head, carding through his messy hair.

"Okay, well, I don't want to keep you too long, Toji! Megumi is safe and sound, and will be asleep verrryyy soon." You tease the little boy, knowing that he's already fighting sleep, dozing off on your shoulder.

Toji smiled when he didn't hear an honorific before his name. Your body froze up as he moved unbelievably close to you, face rubbing against yours as he cups the back of Megumi's head, kissing him goodnight.

"Thanks again, text me if you need anything. Be a good boy Gumi, love ya." Toji waves goodbye as you close the door, turning in your place to take a deep breath, feeling your heated cheeks with the back of your hand, pulling yourself together. What a man.

Your fan-girling subsides when you feel a yawn against your neck, reminding you of the exhausted little boy in your arms.

"Let's get you to bed, buddy. We can have fun in the morning, okay?" You feel a mumble on your skin as you walk to your room, taking in the little boys matching pajamas, little toes covered with fluffy socks. Your heart melts in your chest. How cute.

"Alright, there we go. All set, bud?" You smile down at Megumi tucked in your pink bedding, little head resting on your memory foam pillow.

"Back rub, please?" Megumi pleads, instinctively rubbing his scalp with flat hands. That's where the messy hair comes from.

"Okay, bud." You soften your voice as the boy rolls around in your bed, laying on his chubby little tummy.

He hums happily when he feels the weight of your hand on his back, making grabby hands at your unoccupied one, asking to hold it.

"Dada woves you. He said so to me." Megumi smiles softly, squeezing you hand.

"Oh! Um... oh! He said that?" A wave of shock and flush runs through your body, chest and face heating up.

"Mhm. He thinks you're pretty. I think he wants- marry you." Gumi goes rouge as sleep clouds his little mind, cutting into his own sentences.

"Allrrighhtt Megs... let's focus on bedtime, okay?" You giggle out, feeling like a schoolgirl after hearing the unreliable narrator's thoughts.

"Mmh, okay. Night night, Mama."

...

You didn't get a lick of sleep. How could you? Piles of work was banging at your brain, but the only thing you could think of was Toji and Megumi. Mama.

Pulling at your face, you snap out of your panicked thoughts when you hear a door open and the weight of a tiny body running to your couch. Looking up, your heart breaks in half.

"Y/nnn, bad dreammm. I had bad dream." Megumi sobs out, hands seeking comfort in his hair rubbing his head in agony. His face is puffy and red as tears run down his chubby cheeks, sniffing and crying.

"Oh Gumi, I'm sorry baby... here, come here honey." Climbing onto the couch, Megumi rushes into your arms, holding onto you like you would disappear. Sighing, you stand up with the little boy koala bear-ing you, pacing back and forth as you hush him.

Gazing at the time displayed on the oven, you see that it's already four in the morning. Megumi burrows himself into your body, getting as close as possible to you, seeking the maternal comfort your provide.

"M so sleepy. Don't wanna be by myself." Megumi eventually sighs after tiring himself out, fidgeting with the strap of your tank top.

"Let's sit down, okay bubs? Let's just take some deep breaths." You feel like a nervous wreck, hoping you're comforting Megumi well enough, not fully knowing what to do.

Sitting back down, you pat his back, resting your head on the back of the couch. The weight of Megumi's tired head on your chest grounds you. As you begin dozing off, you feel Megumi's grip on you relax, signaling his sleep.

Exhaling, you rest your arms around the resting lump, finally letting sleep overtake you.

...

Bright and early, you're awoken by the sounds of cabinets opening and closing. You freak out, thinking someone was ransacking your apartment before you open your eyes to see a little body wandering around your kitchen.

"Thirsty." Was the only explanation you get from the messy haired boy as he continued look for a glass.

Pouring him a glass of water, you place him on a chair in your small kitchen, starting his breakfast.

Megumi mumbles to himself as you prepare his scrambled eggs, keeping himself entertained. As you sit across from him, placing his plate in front of him, he smiles and thanks you quietly before digging in.

You drink your coffee, enjoying the peace and quiet provided by Megumi's preoccupied mind...

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Gumi?"

"Do you love dada?"

Megumi brings it up again. Great. Nosey little boy.

"Because I want a mommy. And you're good at it. I think you should be my mama."

"Hey, Gumi, what's your favorite dinosaur?" You blurt out, stopping the conversation as soon as possible.

The little boy glares at you, too smart to be tricked, but giving in anyway.

"T-rex."

...

"Dada! Y/n took good care of me!" Megumi sung the highest of praises when you opened the door to an exhausted Toji.

"I'm sure she did! I hope he didn't give you too much trouble." Toji teased, seeing the dark bags manifesting under your eyes.

"No, not at all, he's a very good boy." You smiled giving Megumi one last hug before he grabbed onto his dad's thumb.

"Thank you so much again, really it means the world to us." Toji reminded you, pulling a fifty out of his pocket, almost begging you to take it. You insisted on him keeping it, joking that the economy is too tough to be stealing his money. Saying their final goodbyes, Toji and Megumi left you alone with your thoughts.

Oh my god. Toji looked so good. His sweatshirt made his already huge frame look unbelievably broader, looking so protective as he held onto his little boy at your door.

You needed him. Bad. And it freaked the shit out of you.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

*PART TWO IS NOW UP!!!!!* https://www.tumblr.com/sillysillygoofygoose/740703539826917377/one-and-a-half-men-one?source=share

#fem reader #jjk x reader #size difference #age difference #jjk #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #toji headcanons #toji x you #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #💗asks💗

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lilacs-stars · 3 months ago

Text

shattered reflections

pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is merlin's daughter) SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to? GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed) BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)

A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!

A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.

Shit, you think.

They finally discovered my secret.

“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.

A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”

The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”

Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.

“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”

You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.”

Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.

“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”

You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”

The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”

Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”

The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”

She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.” “And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.

“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”

You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”

“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.”

At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”).

Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.

Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.

Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give.

How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.

Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.

“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”

After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.

…Or so they think.

“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.

A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.

“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.

Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.

“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.

“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.

“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.

He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”

“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.

“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”

He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”

“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.

“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.

Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.

“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”

You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.

Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain.

You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.

No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.

Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.

“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”

A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face.

“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.

A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.

“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm.

“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”

Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.

“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.

“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.

“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”

Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”

Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”

“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.

“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”

Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”

“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”

“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”

“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”

Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”

Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.

Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.

“You remember the plan?”

Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.

“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”

Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”

Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.

“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle.

Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.

Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.

At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it.

An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).

He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.

Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.

He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.

At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.

At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace. After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.

He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside.

To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…

…library?

Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.

He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.

Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library.

Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.

He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.

Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…

However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.

Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.

After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.

He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—

He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.

On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.

He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.

Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.

Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…

His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.

From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.

And that’s when he sees it.

A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape.

A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows.

Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.

The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him.

He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.

A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.

Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.

He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.

If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.

He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.

Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground.

The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.

As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.

Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.

There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.

Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.

You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.

He knows your secret.

“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.

“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.

After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.

Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.

“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.

“The same thing you’re doing here.” “How do you know what I’m doing here?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”

At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.

“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”

You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”

Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”

Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.

“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”

Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.

“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.

“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?” “I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”

“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”

Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.

“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.

“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.

“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”

“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”

You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.

“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”

“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”

“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.

“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”

“I still need it.” “But why?”

“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.” You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”

He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”

You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”

God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”

The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.

You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.

Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight. Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.

Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.

You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.

Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.

You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.

Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations.

Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.

“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.

Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now.

“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”

You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.

The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.

Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.

Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.

Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey.

The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air.

As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.

Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”

A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.

Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.

You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.

Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off.

Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body.

You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.

Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.

You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.

Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.

An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.

Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.

The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.

Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes.

A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.

It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.

You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.

Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.

Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.

As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.

A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.

Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.

The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.

The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.

You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.

Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me?

Did she ever even love me?

Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.

Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.

Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.

Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.

Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight.

Almost done. Almost.

Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself.

What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.

Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.

Not yet, anyway.

After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.

A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through.

So, so close…

You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.

That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.

The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.

Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.

You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.

“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.

You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.

And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.

The book in front of you was.

The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.

Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.

Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.

But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.

The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.

Dragon, no.

Claws, not that.

Chasm, not that either.

None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.

Chains. The perfect spell.

“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.

As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”

Nothing.

Then, boom.

The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.

You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.

Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.

Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.

More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.

In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.

Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.

You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.

You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.

Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.

He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core.

But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.

The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.

Except they aren’t yours.

Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams.

A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.

“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”

A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.

“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”

Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.

The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.

You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.

“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.

You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.

“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.

“I’m not pitying you.”

You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.

“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.” You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”

You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”

“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”

Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.

“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.

You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.

You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”

Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.

Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.

It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.

Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.

Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.

It’s too late to turn back now.

Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.

Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”

You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.

The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.

You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.

Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.

The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.

You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering’s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.

Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.

“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.

You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”

The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.

Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe.

You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.

As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.

The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.

And that’s when it hits you.

The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.

And the truth was what drove them to madness.

You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.

“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.

Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.

“Your future is one worth living.”

His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.

“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”

You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.

“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.

In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.

“You’re talented.”

The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.

“And smart.”

The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.

“And pretty.”

Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.

“You’re a good person.”

The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.

“You’re not worth it.”

Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.

“I know so.”

The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.

Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.

Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.

You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.

With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.

“You’re late.”

You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.

“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”

He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning.

His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”

Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”

His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”

You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?” A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”

Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.

“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.

You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.

“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.

You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”

You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”

You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”

Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”

Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”

“Do you hate me?”

Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.

The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.

The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.

But he does.

“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”

In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.

“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.

You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”

You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”

You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you.

It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

All because of him.

“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference.

“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.

He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”

You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”

“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.

The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.

end x