#block playthings make

[homunculus-argument]

I will never get tired of how funny it is when people respond to the posts they don't like by turning it into blackout poetry. What sheer fucking splendour, grabbing something you loathe and then turning it into art as an expression of your utter disrespect and disregard of this person's stupid-ass opinions. It's not simply contempt, but an elaborate display of how little it matters to you.

What a way to show that you find this person so beneath your respect that you won't argue their stupid opinions, you won't even gracefully ignore them like you would politely and tactfully turn a blind eye to the embarrassing mishaps of some fool who doesn't know better. No, you choose to turn it into a plaything, making it your arts and crafts material.

The hilarious indignity of having someone pick up something you thought were bold and fine statements, the pinnacle of truth, and saying "this block of stupid text is as worthless as a rock, but allow me to carve it into art, so that it could perhaps be turned into something that possesses worth and beauty."

[kupidachillea]

Olympians x You (hcs or imagines)

Author note: Geez, it’s been awhile. Sorry, I’ve been in bit of a funk, got both writers block and art block but I just want to drop this. I still have a few things in my drafts, but for now I’ll feed you guys this.

TW (trigger warning):This may have a few Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: readers either 17-18+ (to read this I mean), light mentions of nudity, molesting and sexual harassment, toxic behaviour. General (hinted) Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

🏺- You weren’t sure how you got here but somehow you ended up on mount Olympus of all places.

🪡- Your brain was fuzzy and you hadn’t yet registered the 12 + looming faces above you. When you did notice, they were bickering in a language you didn’t understand (or at the very least, understood a little). It was jarring and you were still trying to get your bearings.

-🏺 You noticed one of them, a woman, dressed in garments fit for royalty (in ancient times at least) and had somewhat of a peacock aesthetic to it, yelling and pointing accusingly at a man, presumably her husband. She didn’t seem happy. Hera. Queen of the Olympians..that means the other must’ve been Zeus..oh boy

🪡- Zeus looked as if he was trying to quell his wife’s anger before things got more out of hand. There were a few others in the back that looked bored of the situation- as if a similar thing has happened before, while others looked mildly amused.

🏺- Despite all that- the argument seemed to have turned completely to you. Hera turning her rage towards you. “You! Where did you come from, how did you arrive here!?” She’d ask in anger, it was evident she had very little patience if any at all, thankfully though she was now speaking a language you could understand. You scrambled to answer her, your body trembling slightly at how her voice shook the marble floor you were sat on.

🪡- You tried to explain to her that you didn’t know how you got here. Your brain still fuzzy with images that didn’t clear up or make sense. This obviously didn’t help the Queen’s anger and you could see her patience slipping. She would scoff and turn back towards the other gods, them discussing what they should do with you.

🏺 - Some suggestions were thrown around, some you weren’t so fond of. Multiple times did they suggest either killing you or throwing you off the mountain (which would kill you anyway). However those ideas were shut down immediately by more ‘kindhearted’ gods. This hasn’t happened in centuries- a human spawning on top of their mountain out of the blue..they aren’t really prepared for this.

🪡- They were almost all out of ideas, until one golden haired music deity bent down to your height and took a closer look at you. His eyes shining as he took in your appearance before a smile started to work its way on his lips. “How about we keep them..?” He suddenly asked, his gaze still set on the little (little to them anyway) human in front of him.

🏺- This made everyone pause and even you were shocked by the suggestion. You found it ridiculous and you argued that despite how flattering it was- you didn’t want to stay with them and you wanted to be returned back to your home. The gods only seemed to ignore you, as if you were a child having an unreasonable temper tantrum. They were all considering keeping you here!

🪡- “Well…” Hermes started. You could tell since he was a bit shorter than the others and he had his signature winged sandals. “It has been quite awhile since the gods have had a plaything..” he would mutter reluctantly. He wasn’t entirely sold on the idea, despite how his father and brothers (most anyway) were grinning like idiots. You, obviously , did not appreciate being referred to as a plaything.

🏺- “Then it is settled..this little one shall be our new plaything!” Zeus grinned, a little too happy for both yours and Hera’s taste. You were about to give them a piece of your mind but was swiftly silenced by a threatening gaze from Hera..to your surprise. And thus began your horrible life with the Olympians..

….

🪡- You were stripped of your modern clothing and given a chiton to wear instead. “It’s too modern for our liking..” Aphrodite would say as she felt up your body in ways that made you shiver in discomfort. “We’re use to our people…how should I say this? Showing a little more skin…” the goddess of love would chuckle sweetly, while you would stare at her in embarrassment and maybe even a hint of disgust. While you could understand where she was coming from- it still didn’t stop you personally from being uncomfortable with they way she was touching you.

🏺-You’d also be dressed up in fine jewellery, much to your surprise..anklets of gold, bangles made of bronze, necklaces etc. sweet smelling oil perfumes covering your body- anything to make seem more ‘appealing’ to the gods and goddess. You were their plaything after all, so it made sense for them to dress you how they liked..no matter how much you disliked it.

🪡- They’d occasionally have you pour them wine at banquets or sit on their laps to just sit there and look pretty. The main gods that did this were of course Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, definitely Dionysus and at some point Hermes. You didn’t really appreciate this, but rejecting their request would result in a ‘punishment’ for you.

🏺- To your surprise..Ares rarely touched you without your permission, but he was a little mean here and there. He along with Athena and Demeter weren’t as…’touchy’ as the others. And Artemis …you appreciated that..though just because they didn’t touch you in inappropriate ways doesn’t mean they weren’t as ‘crazy’ as the rest.

🪡- For example, while Artemis wasn’t big on being a pest in terms of touching you, she did take you out on hunts..which..wasn’t so bad in your opinion. It was much better than being up on the mountain most days..she thought a little more rationally- but of course- her twin, Apollo, would see you hanging out with his sister and get a little possessive about it. Which you didn’t understand- you weren’t any of their lovers (even if they thought so), but even so..most hunting trips were cut short because of him.

🏺- When you finally got moments to breathe away from the gods..you’d spend it out in the garden..hidden away from everyone and thing..it was your quiet time up until one of the gods summoned you. You found out that you weren’t the first human to be in this position (and probably not the last)..according to one of the lesser known gods (maybe Hebe) you were told that centuries before, a young lad was taken into the heavens to serve Zeus but had been placed into the stars as the constellation known as Aquarius.

🪡- You shivered at the thought..you didn’t want that to happen to you. To be placed in the stars? Doomed to forever look down on earth and watch your family and friends grow? It may have been an honour back then but to you it was almost like a death sentence.

🏺- Either way, life with the Olympians got harder to cope with. Your privacy was always compromised and you were forced to many things you didn’t like. Sometimes the gods would be as bold to sneak up on you while you were bathing and either join you in the pool or touching up your nude body.

🪡-Often giving excuses for why they would do so, or simply ignoring your protest. It wasn’t hard to manhandle you after all..they were gods, and you were a puny human. Why should they care about your thoughts and feelings. It progressively got worse with them kissing your neck or cheek without your permission too- Apollo was the main culprit of that..

🏺- Sometimes you found yourself crying in a corner by yourself at the situation you were in. The only person willing to comfort you being Hestia. She obviously didn’t approve of this but she couldn’t do much besides being a safe space for you to turn to, which you appreciated.

🪡- But no matter how you protest, run, hide, or try to defy them; you are still theirs. That how they see it anyway, and they won’t change their mind..

[luvsupa]

003 | JEALOUSY?

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, angst, tension, smut, ōral sex + fingering (f!recieving), petnames, revenge sex. don’t know what to add </3, mdni.

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SOSO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS <33

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

you lie in bed, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling, sleep evading you entirely. he floods your mind—lewd images, the sounds, the intoxicating scent that clings to your senses, refusing to leave.

his voice.

sukuna, the king of curses, always knew exactly how to get into your head, how to twist your thoughts until he owned every part of you. you scrunch your face in frustration, knowing he sees you as a plaything—something weak, something to be toyed with.

you glance around the room at the other servants, sleeping peacefully in their single beds, until your gaze lands on yorozu’s bed, neatly made and empty.

a bitter feeling stirs inside you—she had spent the night in sukuna’s bed. yet, even as he fucked her senseless, his attention was entirely on you. his eyes, those cursed, cruel eyes, never left you.

quietly, you rise, slipping on a thin cotton robe. with careful steps, you tiptoe out of the room, the wooden door creaking slightly as it opens. you nearly scream as uraume appears before you, arms crossed, their expression as neutral as ever.

“g-good morning, uraume,” you stammer, bowing slightly in respect.

“the king has requested you clean his chambers,” uraume states, and just hearing his name sends a shiver down your spine. that twisted bastard—he’s trying to get inside your head again.

“tell sukuna i do not wish to see him,” you reply coldly. for the first time, you see a flicker of shock on uraume’s face, their eyebrows raising at your blatant disrespect toward the king of curses.

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be starting my duties early.” you walk past them without another word, leaving uraume speechless at your audacity as you head toward the garden doors.

the sun peeks over the tall mountains, casting a warm glow over the vibrant garden. you stand for a moment, looking up at the orangey-blue sky, before walking deeper into the garden.

you begin your work alone, plucking ripe fruits and vegetables, making sure everything looks perfect. but then, you freeze.

you can feel his presence, dark and oppressive, lingering somewhere nearby.

your heart races. he’s angry—you know it. you must have upset him by refusing his orders. you keep plucking the fruit, desperately trying to ignore the growing sense of dread as his aura thickens, almost suffocating you.

and then, suddenly, his presence vanishes.

you furrow your brow in confusion, turning to scan your surroundings. nothing. he’s gone just like that?

you try to convince yourself that he’s gone, but before you can fully relax, a rough hand grips your face, yanking you around. your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself face to face with sukuna. he looms over you, taller and more terrifying than you remember, his four eyes glowing with a predatory hunger that makes your blood run cold.

“you thought you could ignore me?” he growls, his voice low, almost a purr, but the underlying threat is unmistakable. his grip tightens, forcing you back against the rough bark of a towering oak tree. he’s so close, his body heat searing into you, his scent, a heady mix of blood and something darkly sweet—overwhelming your senses.

“you think you can defy me, woman?” his voice is deceptively soft, but it only makes the fear coil tighter in your chest. his lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he inhales deeply, savouring your scent. “you’ve been blocking me out, haven’t you? my clever little girl.”

his words are laced with a twisted kind of praise, but there’s nothing comforting in it. his breath is hot against your skin, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of your ear, making you squirm involuntarily. his grip on your face is firm, almost possessive, as he presses himself against you, his presence overpowering.

“fuck you,” you manage to spit out, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the defiance in your words only makes him chuckle darkly.

“such a filthy mouth,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. his other hand trails up your neck, his fingers elongating into sharp, black claws that press dangerously against the pulsing vein in your throat. he’s toying with you, every touch calculated to draw out your fear, your arousal.

“so brave, yet you tremble under my touch,” sukuna’s voice is a husky whisper, dripping with sadistic pleasure as he watches your reaction. you hate the way your body responds to him, how the proximity makes your heart race, your thighs press together in a vain attempt to quell the heat building inside you.

his bottom eyes catch the movement, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “how delightful,” he sneers, releasing your neck and stepping back, leaving you breathless and trembling against the tree.

sukuna hums, turning to leave without a word, no goodbye, nothing. you’re left standing there, breathless and shaking, knowing you’ll never truly escape his grasp.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the evening buzzes with activity as servants and guards rush to prepare the dining hall for the zenin clan’s arrival. you overhear whispers about toji, the head of the clan, who commands both fear and respect. a secluded home within the estate has been prepared for their stay, a gesture of hospitality from sukuna himself.

you slip into more formal attire, the fabric soft against your skin, when a soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. uraume steps in, their expression unreadable.

“the king—”

“i’ve already spoken to him, uraume,” you interject, catching a flicker of irritation in their eyes.

“the king has requested that you serve the food at dinner for the zenin clan,” uraume continues, their tone firm. your brow furrows in confusion, but before you can protest, they add, “i will not tolerate any disrespect towards sukuna-sama, so i suggest you comply.” with that, they leave, offering no room for argument. you let out a frustrated sigh, knowing sukuna is up to something.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the estate is a flurry of movement as everyone gathers outside to greet the zenin clan. the grand entrance is framed by koi ponds and cherry blossom trees, their petals drifting in the breeze. the noise of the crowd quiets as everyone falls into place, a wide path left clear for sukuna and uraume.

the chatter dies as word spreads that sukuna is approaching. everyone bows as the double doors swing open, revealing sukuna in a black kimono with gold accents, his hair slicked back with a few strands falling against his face.

fuck. he looks so good, you think, your heart skipping a beat.

uraume follows behind him as they move toward their spot at the front. just as sukuna passes by you, your heart clenches. you barely manage to lower your head in respect as you notice his hand intertwined with yorozu’s. she throws a smirk your way, and your eyes flicker between them. a gasp escapes your lips as you catch sukuna’s lower eye locked on you, a smirk playing on his lips as well.

the gates swing open, and the zenin clan’s carriages roll in, the horses' hooves echoing against the stone. the zenin’s guards step out first, followed by a tall, broad man in a black haori. he moves with an air of authority, his eyes locking onto sukuna’s with a tension so thick it feels like the air might crack.

“zenin,” sukuna calls out, their gazes locked in a silent battle for dominance. toji strides forward, his hands casually behind his back, his presence as commanding as sukuna’s.

“ryomen,” toji responds, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. you study him more closely, noting the scar on his lip, the sharpness of his gaze. he catches you staring, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. sukuna’s gaze follows toji’s, his jaw tightening, a vein pulsing at his temple as he harshly releases yorozu’s hand.

“uraume, show our guests to the dining hall,” sukuna orders, his voice low, his breath quickening with barely restrained anger. toji’s eyes flick between you and sukuna, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he catches onto the tension.

as uraume leads toji and the rest of the zenin clan inside, toji deliberately brushes past sukuna, the slight contact sparking a flash of rage in sukuna’s eyes. he clenches his fists, fighting the urge to unleash his wrath, the air around him crackling with suppressed power.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

sukuna, toji, and the rest of the zenin clan settle into the dining room, the air thick with chatter and underlying tension. you stand quietly in the corner behind toji, your gaze drifting to sukuna seated at the other end of the table. yorozu is by his side, her smile wide as she leans into him, desperate for his attention while he pets her head, his eyes never leaving you.

the chefs signal that the food is ready, and you step forward, carrying the largest, heaviest plate. as you approach sukuna, yorozu stifles a laugh, her eyes gleaming with mischief. you carefully place the dish in front of sukuna, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, making your heart race with nervous energy.

you retreat back to your spot behind toji, aware that he’s been watching your every interaction with sukuna. he hums, a smirk tugging at his lips as he senses the tension.

“is the food to your liking, lord zenin?” you ask softly, leaning down so only he can hear. but sukuna’s piercing red eyes catch every movement, his stare burning into you. toji turns to you, his gaze appreciative as he sets his utensils down.

“y’er a cute one, hmm? call me toji, baby,” he purrs, his voice dripping with charm. you smile, flustered by the attention, while across the table, yorozu desperately tries to capture sukuna’s interest, even going so far as to eat from his plate in an attempt to please him.

suddenly, sukuna’s voice booms out, calling your name with a force that silences the entire room. all conversation stops as you freeze, your exchange with toji abruptly cut short. you take a hesitant step toward sukuna’s side of the table, but before you can move any further, toji grabs your arm. you gasp, turning to find him grinning, his eyes alight with mischief.

in one swift motion, toji pulls you into his lap, your squeal echoing in the now-silent dining room. “ryo’, let the girl rest, yeah? workin’ too much, baby, isn’t that right?” he coos, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. sukuna’s expression darkens, his anger barely contained, only held in check by uraume’s firm grip on his shoulder, reminding him of the guests in the room.

the dinner continues, but the atmosphere is charged. sukuna’s eyes never leave you and toji, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. toji, sensing sukuna’s barely restrained anger, keeps pushing, his hands wandering over your thighs, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers sweet, seductive words.

toji takes your hand, kissing it softly, his eyes locked on sukuna’s with a smug, taunting look. sukuna’s fists clench, his entire body tense as he fights the urge to tear toji apart.

“meet me in my chambers,” toji murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. you giggle, caught up in the flirtation, but the sound barely leaves your lips before sukuna abruptly stands, the ancient chair crashing to the floor.

“dinner is over,” sukuna announces, his voice cold and final. confusion ripples through the room as he storms out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. yorozu calls after him, but he doesn’t even glance back, his rage blazing as he disappears from sight.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as nighttime falls, you find yourself at the guest estate just a few minutes from the main one. with a nervous knock, toji answers the door, his grin widening before he pulls you into a deep, feverish kiss. your tongues intertwine, frantic and messy, at the entrance where anyone might witness the two of you.

toji pulls away, his large hand cupping your face. “who is sukuna to you?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur that makes you choke on your saliva, caught off guard.

“h-he’s my king, toji,” you stammer, leaning into his touch, your breath coming fast. he chuckles, a dark glimmer in his eyes.

“i see how he looks at you—he’s always been possessive with… women,” he says, his gaze wandering as a wicked thought forms.

“are you up for something adventurous?” he whispers, his lips trailing fiery kisses down your neck. you tilt your head, desperate for more.

“I want you, toji,” you whimper, and he chuckles, pulling out a black blindfold from his pocket.

was he prepared for this all along?

“may I put this on you?” he asks, his voice dripping with anticipation. you nod eagerly, unable to contain your desire. toji smirks, guiding you to turn around as he binds the fabric over your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

you ache to see him, to watch the way he moves, but the blindfold denies you that pleasure. “we just need to walk a bit, and I’ll give you everything you want,” he promises, his arms lifting you in a bridal style.

the journey feels endless until he finally lays you down on the softest bed you’ve ever felt. he undresses you slowly, making you shiver with anticipation.

toji’s mouth descends on your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples- alternating from each breast.

“n-need you inside me,” you moan, your voice trembling with need. he kisses his way down your body, his lips blazing a trail to your aching cunt.

“such a needy one,” he teases, his voice rough as he slides two fingers through your slick folds. he circles your entrance, collecting your essence before pushing his fingers inside. your gasp is loud, your body arching as he thrusts deep, his fingers curling to hit your sweet spot. the room fills with the wet, lewd sounds of your pleasure.

“you’re drenched,” he growls, sliding his fingers out to deliver a stinging slap to your cunt, making you hiss. he licks his fingers clean, savouring your taste before diving into your pussy with feral intensity. his tongue explores every inch of your velvety walls, making you clench around him.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he groans into your core, the vibrations sending electric jolts through your body. your legs try to close around his head, but he forces them open, his face and the sheets below soaked with your arousal.

“toji, I need you inside me,” you moan, the knot in your stomach tightening, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“are you out of your fucking mind?”

you freeze.

your heartbeat halts as his voice cuts through the haze. confusion and fear grip you as you realize who’s in the room.

toji doesn’t stop; if anything, he devours you with even more intensity. loud slurping heard from below as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your cries.

shakily, you pull off the blindfold, blinking against the bright light. below you, toji’s face is a mask of wicked satisfaction, strands of saliva and cum connecting him to your swollen cunt.

your gaze travels to the end of the bed, and your blood runs cold. sukuna stands there, his four arms bulging with veins, his nails longer and sharper than before.

this is sukuna’s room—the very place where he was with yorozu the night before.

your eyes dart between toji and sukuna, realizing you’re in deep trouble. toji orchestrated this, deliberately placing you in sukuna’s room to fuel the tension between them. “m-my lord—” you begin, but toji spits flat on your cunt, slapping it loudly as you moan uncontrollably.

“c’mon, baby—tell ‘kuna how I’m making you feel.”

[ningvory]

good girl — kim chaewon

g!p meangirl!chaewon x f!reader

CW: college au, the fimmies are sick perverts, public humiliation, lowkey kdrama bullying, readers a virgin and a loner, choking, blackmailing, dubcon, reader wears glasses, pussy eating, slight pussy slapping, recording, degration, dumbification, backshots, sorta public sex, voyerism

wc —> 3.1k

nabi’s messages: GUESS WHO’S OUTTA WRITERS BLOCK!? WE CHEERED!! finally on summer break so hopefully i’ll be writing more frequently 🤞🤞 uhhh also not fully proofread but when is it ever proofread!?

you hated her.

kim chaewon, the rich, gorgeous, athletically and academically talented, and of course she’s drop dead gorgeous. everyone either wanted to be her or be with her.

whenever she’d roam the halls with her clique; sakura, yunjin, and kazuha people would stare in awe but as well as fear. after all, she is the school’s bully, a wolf in sheep’s clothing you may say.

and you were her favorite target.

you, were unfortunately chaewon’s favorite person to torment ever since the first year of college. you were easily an easy target to pick on by her. your style was apparently too old and not up to date with what’s the style now and your glasses were just entirely too big for your face.

so of course you stuck out to chaewon. it was so shocking that it was basically like comedy to her that you even got in a place like this, in a crowd full of the rich. she’d mock you to her friends and it brought her to tears from how long she laughed at you cluelessly trying to figure out where your classes were. she couldn’t wait to make you her plaything in more ways than one.

the bell rang for lunchtime to start. something that you really didn’t enjoy due to the loudness of the area.

you tried finding a empty table, just so you can sit down and enjoy your meal and luckily, you found one and you sat down about 4 seats down from a group of girls

you felt eyes on you, turning your head to see who it was, meeting the eyes of a girl with short blonde hair who had a undeniable look of disgust on her face.

“who told you to sit at our table?” she scoffed, before looking you up and down. you looked at her confused, its a table? a school lunch table at that, who was she to tell you that you couldn’t sit at the table?

you rolled your eyes and ignored her, tending to your food. you kept taking bites of your food, going to unlock your phone as you heard loud giggles from besides you.

“did you hear me, bitch? who told you to sit at this table?” she smirked, snatching your phone out of your hand, making your attention go to her, trying to get your phone back.

in a swift motion, you snatched your phone out of her hands, “the fuck is wrong with you? the table is for anyone to sit at, bitch.” you remarked, giving her a judgmental look.

her smirk was completely whipped off, “are you seriously talking to me like that? you’ve got some guts, little girl.” her lips curled up into a cocky smile before she stood up and pulled your hair with a harsh grip, pulling you off the chair before she shoved you, making you loose balance and fall to the hard floor of the cafeteria. the goosebumps began to rise on your uncovered legs and arms from the coldness of the floor.

“ow— a-are you fucking crazy!?” you screamed at her, caressing the spot of hair which she pulled on, making everyone’s attention fall on you and her.

she snickered at you, looking down at you like you were some dog before she grabbed your bottle full of milk and crouched down to your height.

“tsk. next time watch who you talk to, dummy.” she speaks with that tone full of disgust and grabs your chin to look at her.

a sinister smile appears on her face watching how your face was laced with fear before she poured the milk on your head. completely soaking your body with the cold liquid, your hair that took you hours to do was ruined, your face was soak in it, your glasses had spots of milk on it, and your white uniform top was soaked and exposed your bra under your top.

all eyes were on you. you heard the sound of cameras clicking and people laughing and murmuring with their friends about how pathetic you looked shaking and drenched with milk. until chaewon arose and gave a stare that shut everyone up and divert their attention away from you.

that was the first ever encounter and was definitely not the last, especially since the teachers were so pathetically helpless. but even if they tried, she could bribe her way out of any situation she’d be put in, or she could blackmail the teachers if they ever thought about stopping her, she had everyone’s secrets.

after the first situation, it just got worse for you. it seemed like everywhere you went she was right there, it was like she was obsessed with breaking you down to nothing but her personal pet. from forcing you to do her homework or else she’d physically assault you until you complied, to dragging you out of your lesson without a care in the world to force you to get on your knees while she used your mouth to get off.

you’re currently in your junior year of college still being tormented by chaewon and her clique, you learned now that they go by ‘the fimmies’ — sometimes you liked to joke and called them ‘the dummies’ due to the fact that they force you and others to do their homework. like seriously, you can’t do the work yourself? eventually the pain they’ve inflicted on you for the past two years, you’ve grown used to it, not having the energy to fight her back as much as you did before. you’ve been given the name by the students, ‘chaewon’s feisty bitch’ or ‘the fimmies’ pet’ and everyone knows you for that, not your actual name.

now you were currently in the garden of the school, doing your homework. the only place you felt safe from chaewon and her harassment, that was until the devil herself appeared infront of you.

“yah..” she said relatively relaxed and soft, alarmingly soft. which made your blood run cold, but you ignored her, continuing to try and focus on your work.

“yah! i know you hear me, look at me.” she said, gripping onto your jaw and jerking your head to her direction.

“ow—what is it now?” you wince at her grip on your jaw, looking at her in her eyes.

“be a good girl and do my homework, since you like doing homework so much. it’s past school hours, why the fuck are you still here?” she questioned, bringing your face closer to hers.

you could ask her the same thing, it’s not like she’s in any sports or afterschool activities.

“you don’t have to be so aggressive about it..” you whine. the following silence was odd, especially when it’s chaewon, the usual bitch who makes a big deal about literally anything.

nothing was heard but the few birds chirping and the cars driving by.

“follow me.” she said completely monotones with a unreadable expression on her face, she let go of your face, letting you put your stuff in your bag, surprisingly. before she’s dragging you along to wherever she’s taking you.

—

she pushed you into a classroom, professor kim’s classroom to be exact, your favorite professor. your eyes widened with horror when you saw her usual clique in the room, laughing at your expression.

“what’s wrong, ynnie? not happy to see us?” sakura, the eldest out of the clique asked. before sadistically smiling at you, which made you shiver.

“let’s play a game, ‘kay?” chaewon walked to you, making you walk backwards, trying to get away from her, but soon your body comes in contact with the wall, causing her to grin.

soon her lips are come in contact with yours, cupping your face and hungrily making out with you. you were caught completely off guard, giving her easy access to slip her tongue in your mouth to fully make out with you. it was sudden and she’d never make out with you, what changed now?

she pulled away when she felt herself become breathless, you opened your eyes and caught your breath. desperately trying to catch her breath, “here" she tossed the keys behind her back. "lock the door."

the color was drained from your face when you let those words set in. “hey! w-what—what do you—”

your sentence was cut off when your neck was gripped so tight it left you speechless. your hands instantly went to claw at her hands on your neck, trying to get her to ease up.

she brought her mouth to your ear, “the game is simple. it’s called, ‘how to be a good girl’ it’s only one simple rule, do everything i tell you to do without fighting back and it’ll be easier for you, ‘kay?” she brought her head to its original position, using more force on your neck.

you nodded your head letting out a chocked out, “alright” before she finally let go of your neck. making you gasp out, gasping for air once more.

her friends were highly amused, each of them had a sinister smile on their faces before cracking up in laughs. kazuha even pulled her phone out, which made you look at her, silently pleading for her to put the phone away.

“kazuha—please d-don’t record—” you go to say, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, your reputation was at risk and she knowing her, she didn’t care.

the girl in question, kazuha, scoffed before giggling, “relax ynnie. if you're a good girl and listen to us, i promise i wont post it anywhere.

you could only trust her words, but you already knew they were 9 times out of 10, a bunch of lies, to calm you down.

“now strip, puppy.” chaewon added, lips curling up into a grin, pushing you in the center of the room.

you hesitated, looking at all of their faces that were laced with anticipation to see you strip. what sick perverts.

“tsk—you’re already breaking the one rule, strip.” she repeated herself, sternly looking at you.

you scrambled to unbottom your uniform top, in front of you, meeting chaewon’s eyes which earned a smile from her.

her clique, began to cheer and clap when you unclasped your bra, revealing your plush tits. they’ve never been this invested in you before, their cocks we’re starting to harden under their skirts at the sight. you were vulnerable to her close friends, none of them had never seen your body under your clothes.

you moved down to your skirt, sliding it down your plush thighs, before standing in the the pool of your clothes.

“good girl.” she praised, “now, bend over professor kim’s desk.” she smiled at you.

she was sick for this, but you were terrified so you complied. you shamefully walked over to the desk, walking past kazuha who gave your ass a light slap, making you flinch in shock.

you kept you head down, too embarrassed to look up. you heard the sound of walking, walking closer to you and feeling kazuha’s camera on you.

you saw hands slide a sheet in front of you, it was chaewon’s homework and a pencil right beside it.

you felt a hand carefully caress your ass, flinching slightly from the sudden movement. “complete my homework, and don’t you dare move.” chaewon ordered.

you nodded, picking up the pencil and writing down the answers. it went smoothly for a few minutes, only feeling her presence behind you which made you worry. there was always a catch with her, what was she was going to do to you?

it was like you said it out loud. you soon felt her hands slide your panties down, feeling her breath blow on your cunt, shivering at the sensation.

kazuha immediately brought her camera closer to your face, caring all the expressions and noises you made when chaewon would blow on your cunt. yunjin, immediately brought her camera to get a good side angle of what chaewon was doing under the desk.

chaewon couldn’t resist it anymore, her mouth watering at the sight of your pretty cunt on display for her. “fuck it” she whispered before her tongues jutted out of her mouth, and into your tight hole, gathering your juices on her tongue before drinking it down. you whined at the sensation, squirming under her tight grip on your legs almost giving out on you.

when she started, she really couldn’t stop. she immediately got addicted to your sweet pussy on her tongue, it drove her crazy and craving for more. she began sucking on your clit, letting go with a loud pop which had you covering your mouth, trying to conceal your loud squeals and moans.

“don’t cover your mouth, we wanna hear you, puppy.” sakura moaned, you didn’t even realize she pulled her cock out and started jerking off to the sight right in front of her.

kazuha moved your hand, unmuffling your cute noises. the camera caught the sign on your eyes threatening to roll back, hands shaking, still trying to finish her assignment.

yunjin caught the glimpse of chaewon behind you on her knees, griping on your legs that are threatening to give out while she’s basically making out with your spit covered cunt. yunjin couldn’t believe that her leader was getting pussy drunk but she wasn’t complaining, you were honestly a cute girl with a pretty body. she’ll get a taste of your cunt one day.

you tried your best to not move under her touch like what she ordered you too, but your body was so weak from her mouth on your cunt, you were squirming under her hold.

she pulled away and landed a slap to your puffy cunny that makes you scream and jolt from impact. “hgnnn—chae-chaewon—” you tried turning your head to look at her but kazuha quickly grabs your jaw, and brings it to look at her.

“fuck..don’t look at me like that pretty. focus on the assignment or else she’s stopping again, alright?”kazuha softly speaks to you, earning a whine from you.

chaewon dived back in to your fat cunt, slurping up all that your cunt gave her before tongue fucking your cunt. giving your ass a slap when she feels your body shake under her. she speeds up when she hears your pretty and erotic moans. she’s suddenly pushing your body to the desk, shaking her head in your cunt which had your moans becoming high pitched.

“hey baby, ynnie~ look here—cmon.” kazuha’s camera was shamelessly in front of your face, she makes you look in the camera’s lenses before she’s pushing her fingers in her mouth, which you sucked on almost immediately. you’re brain was scattered that you wouldn’t care less about the camera, eyes rolling back, making kazuha groan.

“does chaewon’s tongue feel good, tell me.” she adds on, pulling her fingers out of your mouth.

“chaewon—chaewonie~ please—please let me cum—i’ll be your good—hngg— i’ll be your good girl!!” her friends are amused by your words and how her tongue had reduced you to a obedient slut.

finally, she had you right where she wanted you. a crying obedient mess, what she wanted everytime you have the nerve to talk back to her.

“please!! m s-sorry for bein a bitch—oh fuck! g-gonna— nghh—cumming—cumming!” you babbled incoherently. she nuzzled her tongue into your sweet hole, bringing her fingers to rub your clit which had you cumming all over her face, body shaking, eyes rolling back, and tongue lolling out for her friends and the camera to see. your legs were like jelly and the only thing keeping you up was her grip on your legs and the desk holding you up.

she cleaned your sweet cum up, drinking up all you gave her before standing up. to unbutton her pants, her boner was bulging out of them, painfully.

her hands groped your ass cheek, giving it a hard spank, ripping a moan out of your chest from the impact.

“stupid slut, you think i’m done? you said you’re gonna be my good girl right? that’s exactly what you’ll do.” she smirked, pulling her boxers down before she’s pushing her cock inside. “fuck! you’re a fucking virgin?” she grunted, watching you struggle to take her thick cock in your cunt.

she didn’t even let you get adjusted, tears falling out your eyes from the feeling of your cunt getting stretched out.

chaewon had you just where she wanted you. bare ass on display and watching it juggle when she pushed herself into your cunt, whining at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing her cock deliciously good.

she leaved toward, her tits pressing against your bare back, she found a pace that had you moaning uncontrollably, she rested her chin on your shoulder, looking at your fucked out face. her lips tugged into a grin, “ynnie, who’s pussy does this belong to?” she asked, loving the way you’ve been brought to a crying mess by her alone.

“y-yours! only—nghhh— only yours!” you babble out, you’re so fucked out you can’t even comprehend what your saying.

“yea? this sweet lil pussy is all mine? mine to use and play with whenever i want?” she grins, looking at the camera infront of her, speeding her thrusts up, ripping out high pitched squeals and moans.

“as much as i love your pretty little moans, you’re so loud, do you wanna get caught?” she covered your mouth, muffling your moans.

her friends were obsessed with the way you were to whiny, if you were like this all the time…fuck. they would’ve fucked you a long time ago.

“fuck! g-good fucking girl—gonna take my cum right? gonna cum inside this pussy and y-you’re gonna take it!” chaewon moaned, thrust growing sloppy, unclamping her hand that was once on your mouth before loudly moaning, shooting her load inside your cunt.

when you felt her cum shoot inside your cunt, your eyes began to roll once again, back arching into her thrust before your body shakes, your mouth open to let out a silent moan before cumming all over her cock still inside you.

you couldn’t even register when one of her friends pushed her cock in your mouth until your glossy eyes met hers.

sakura, if you were in the right sense of mind you would’ve immediately tried to get her away from you, but you let her use your mouth until she shot her loat in your mouth.

“swallow it, puppy.” she whimpered, petting your messy hair.

she finally pulled out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath from your intense fucking session.

you whined when chaewon finally pulled out of your cum filled cum, leaving your hole agape until she pushes a dildo inside your cunt.

“keep this inside of you and don’t let nothing spill.” she threatens softly, was this the same chaewon you knew? she’s slipping your clothes back on along with hers. maybe under that mean girl facade of hers she was an ok person.

whys she telling yunjin to pick you up and bring her to your car, where was she taking you? you wish you knew but the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion took over your body, putting you in a deep slumber.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

How they show affection to you throughout the relationship TW: AFAB Reader, Sexual implications, Cringey men, MY SHITTY ASS WRITERS BLOCK

Lucifer

In the beginning, your story together was anything but perfect. He held unyeilding views about sinners, and in his eyes, you were nothing more than a psychopathic killer, a hopeless drug addict, or even, heaven forbid, a demonic radio host.

Yet somehow, you brought joy into his life. Your corny puns and lighthearted jokes became the new normal for his troubled soul. You consistently put him first, even when you didn’t have to, your calm, gentle smile illuminating the darkest corners of his small world.

It truly began with the small gestures—special nicknames that he lovingly crafted just for you. One fateful day, he became visibly upset when Charlie dared to use the same nickname. He sulked for days, unable to shake off the irritation that someone else had used his personal nickname he made just for you.

As your connection deepened, he began expressing his feelings through lingering touches. Afraid to voice the vastness of his emotions, he sought to convey his affection subtly. He would hold your hand a fraction too long during exchanges, his fingers brushing against yours with a hesitant familiarity. When he tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers lingered against your skin just a moment longer. He would pull you close, his hand resting possessively around your waist, silently claiming you as his own.

Eventually, the weight of his unspoken feelings became too much to bear. He opted for indirect confessions, praising your beauty and grace instead of uttering the words "I love you," which once led to heartache. He swept you off your feet, whether in a playful dance or as you strolled through the infernal streets of Hell, reveling in the joy of simply being together.

The moment of true confession came unexpectedly while Kattie Killjoy was out on the road with her camera crew. She stopped you both, curious about the new sinner who had captured King Lucifer's attention. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, declaring to the Hell's rings that you were his.

That kiss sparked a meaningful conversation about the future of your relationship and the love that had been quietly brewing between you for so long. From that moment, Lucifer began guiding you, helping you find your footing as Hell's next queen, all the while cherishing the fact that you chose to stand by his side.

Alastor

He didn’t hate you; instead, he regarded you as a mere plaything—a soul eager to make a deal, much like countless others before you. To him, people were simply pawns in a grand game, assets he could exploit over time. Yet, he never anticipated the profound impact you would have on his life.

Your calm presence was soothing, like the perfect Jazz song on a long night. You found joy in learning about his past, willingly immersing yourself in the world of Jazz, and becoming an enthusiastic participant. It warmed his heart to know he had at least one dedicated listener who wasn’t bound to him by ownership.

He couldn’t help but notice the way your hands lingered near him, a delicate dance of respect and curiosity. Your decision to take up dancing lessons at Mimzy’s work didn’t go unnoticed either. He appreciated your efforts far more than he would ever admit, silently cherishing the way you sought to connect with him.

It quickly became apparent to everyone in Hell—save for the two of you—that something special was blossoming between you. Your every move was shadowed by a newfound intimacy, and Alastor always seemed prepared with an extra outfit for dancing, making it almost too easy for others to see the affection that was growing between you.

Alastor, recognizing your hesitation to risk hurting him, decided to take the plunge and make the first move. He whisked you away to Mimzy’s dance hall, where you spent the night twirling and swaying together. While dancing was not unusual for you two, it was during the slow songs that he drew you impossibly close, enveloping you in a warmth that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

The truth of your shared feelings came to light when Rosie danced by and playfully remarked on how cute and deadly the two of you appeared together. With a broad smile illuminating his face, Alastor looked down at you, and before you could process the moment, he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

This kiss ignited a whirlwind of chaos around you—a symphony of Mimzy’s complaints, Rosie’s laughter, and the distant hum of TV static as carnage erupted in the streets, instigated by an irate man who had glimpsed a glitchy, blurry photo of your exchange. Although the man who snapped the picture met a swift end, the image ultimately found its way into Vox’s hands, setting off a chain reaction of consequences.

Adam

He was the first man, the quintessential figure, the one and only Adam of the Garden of Eden. With an aura of irresistible charm, he dismissed the notion of singular love or romance, believing he needed a multitude of women to satisfy his desires. Sweet, innocent feelings had no place in his world—at least, that’s what he thought.

Little did he know, you were slowly weaving your way into the fabric of his heart. You were the epitome of a perfect angel, obedient and charmingly polite. Initially, he found your demeanor a tad annoying, but as night fell, his imagination transformed you into the devoted wife he never knew he craved.

Over time, his nicknames for you evolved from crude jests to tender pet names, each one reserved solely for you. If anyone dared to inquire about this softer side, he would scoff, brushing it off as if it never happened. The same went for the fleeting touches—his instinct to stand closely behind you, resting his head on yours or your shoulder—he would never confess to being utterly smitten.

His feelings became undeniable when even the mere mention of Eve or Lilith in your presence ignited a fierce jealousy within him. He yearned to shout from the rooftops that you were the one—the "it girl" who had captured his heart. You were his forever, the beginning and the end.

To solidify these feelings and coax you into his embrace, he made it his mission to cling to you, undeterred by gossip or judgment. He wanted you to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his devotion to you matched yours to him.

The pivotal moment that brought your lips together was orchestrated by Lute, who quite literally pushed you into Adam. Just as he was grappling with cold feet, he found himself frozen in place, your wide, sparkling eyes locked on his. In a whirlwind of surprise, Lute nudged you forward, and as he instinctively caught you, one hand on your lower back and the other tangling in your hair, he realized your hands were resting on his chest. In that electric moment, your lips met, sealing a connection neither of you anticipated.

From that day forward, Lute took immense pride in her matchmaking skills. Whenever Adam wasn’t around, she reveled in bragging about how she had transformed the notorious “massive asshole” into a devoted boyfriend, silencing his incessant boasts about his past conquests. This victory was a personal triumph for her and a welcome relief for the other exorcists, who were finally spared from his relentless chatter about your perfect form.

Husk

He had never been on the lookout for love—not even before his untimely demise. To him, it felt like a distant fantasy, something lost in the chaos of his life. As a gambling man with a penchant for risk, he often found that women were put off by his reckless ways and his struggle with alcohol.

But then you entered his life, and it took far too long for him to realize that his drinking had lessened, replaced by an increasing fascination with you. You became his unexpected remedy, igniting an obsession with your radiant smile and infectious laughter. Your genuine spirit shone brightly, even when the world felt heavy and overwhelming.

He transformed your drinks into special concoctions, always incorporating your favorites—whether they were alcoholic or not. Each glass was adorned with playful fruits and whimsical garnishes aimed at coaxing your smile.

One day, he casually suggested that you help him clean the bar, seizing the opportunity to brush his fingers against your lower back or hold your hands, delighting in the warmth of your presence.

He longed to take a step toward something more official, but with Charlie’s exuberance and Alastor’s unpredictable nature, commitment felt daunting. Yet, it was clear to everyone in the hotel how deeply he cherished you. Encouraged by their nudges, he finally gathered the courage to ask you out, only to stumble over his words and blurt out a clumsy, unrelated question that only made you smile wider.

Determined to make his intentions clear, he devised a plan to ask you out on his own terms. He orchestrated a lovely meal and implored everyone in the hotel to vacate for the afternoon. Once the scene was set, everything fell into place. Your laughter at his classy magic tricks and the sweet rhythm of your conversation made him realize—this was love blooming in its purest form.

When he finally confessed, he was beaming—a remarkable feat for someone who rarely wore a smile. Your genuine warmth and unwavering affection were all that mattered to him, melting away his grumpy exterior.

From that moment on, Husk transformed into a new man. He found purpose in his days, a reason to look forward to the end of his shifts. Yes, the looming presence of the radio demon still weighed on his mind, but you were there, ready to fill the void in his heart with everything he had always longed for.

Vox

You were nothing more than an assistant in his eyes—just a cog in the machine while he juggled the chaotic dynamics of his half-hearted relationship with Val and Vel. Love felt like a distraction; all he craved was power and the sweet satisfaction of seeing Alastor kneeling before him.

Yet, you were an infuriating thorn in his side, clad in alluring short skirts and stockings, flashing a smile that could light up the darkest corners of Hell. Each comment from Val or Vel about you ignited a possessive spark within him. He wanted you all to himself, and he was determined to keep it that way.

The nature of your interactions began to change, starting innocently with the passing of papers or showcasing new products on the tablet. But it quickly escalated to lingering touches—his hands resting possessively on your waist, gentle massages on your shoulders, and teasing breaths against your neck as he leaned in to whisper.

He was intent on making you want him, but pride held him back from crawling to you; that would be too undignified. Instead, he resolved to ensure you needed him just as much. One promise rang clear in his mind: he would never, ever use his hypnosis against you.

His feelings became undeniable the day Val cornered you, a tense moment exacerbated by his foul mood, thanks to Angel Dust’s antics and the fact that you had captured Vox's attention. What began as a heated conversation erupted into a full-blown brawl between the two men, both vying for your affection in one way or another.

When Vox emerged victorious, albeit with a few scrapes, he was seething. But the moment you approached him, your worried eyes searching his, everything shifted. In that instant, he realized you were the one—the only one he would ever need. Forget Alastor on his knees; it was you he craved at his side.

With one passionate kiss, he made his feelings clear, giving Val a defiant middle finger as you and Vox ignited headlines across Hell with your new love story. He would do anything for you—truly anything—and he meant every word.

[agarbar]

Rumors- Prologue

Sevika x Reader

MDI!! +18

You were Sevika's most loyal pet.

Warnings for whole story: (I will avoid giving too much detail of the plot of the fic, read at your own risk.) SMUT, Sexual descriptions, age gap, ANGST, SLOOOOW BURN (years literaly pass, kidnapping, aggression, Toxic relationship, aggression, cheating (situationship type), Sevika does not even like (or respect) the reader, Reader is delusional. Sevika hasn't lost her arm (yet), manipulation, reader might be described as curvy. More warnings be added later. SLOW WRITER! (sorry)

English is not my first language. I struggle a lot with punctuation and grammar. This will take multiple parts, and its set before the first events of Arcane. Its technically an x reader, but I will avoid using (Y/N) the best I can. There is an age gap in this story, the reader is also a bit weird and obsessive.

Sevika made her way through the crowd, her steel-toed boots making loud thumps as she marched along the wood and metal floors of the Last Drop. She headed to the ornate doorway of the top floor. The men guarding the entrance knew better than to attempt to block her path. The door swung open and banged against the wall, slammed shut just as loud. Silco did not even need to glance up to see who it was, he called her up after all. 

“You asked to see me, boss?”

"Have you been taking good care of your pets, Sevika?" Silco questioned as he reviewed their latest shimmer supply record.

She nearly rolled her eyes at his question. "My men know their place— they do as I say, no questions asked. They don’t need pampering."

"You must already know how vital loyalty is for someone of your position. Particularly the ones you are affiliated with." The man poured himself a glass of liquor. “So then? How have you been treating your pets?”

The woman slumped down on a wooden coffee table, not bothering with the fancy velvet settee. "What exactly are you getting at?”

"Certain rumors are spreading around," Silco picked up his drink, swirled the golden-hued beverage, and leaned back in his seat. "In regards to Sheriff Grayson." 

Sevika scowled as she heard the Piltie’s name. “What type of rumors?” She drew a cigarette from her vest and dug into her back pocket for her lighter.

"Insiders say Sheriff Grayson is going around digging for dirt."

Sevika blew a cloud of smoke out her nostrils, the burn alleviated the itch in her lungs. “Thought the Piltie had no interest in ‘fixing’ Zaun.” 

"The sheriff does have a deal with Vander.” Silco dropped the papers on the table, no longer interested in revising them. “But things can change fairly quickly."

“You think she will start meddling with our business?”

"She might," Silco said, circling his chair to look at his large window. "There are numerous sightings, all late in the night. She visits one person in particular.”

“And you want me to deal with them?”

Sevika could tell Silco was more amused than enraged by the stupidly obnoxious way he swirled the liquid in his glass. Strange, considering that the possibility of the Sheriff suddenly placing importance on their business was a big reason for stress.

“Sources claim that the sheriff has been visiting a little seamstress.”

Sevika froze for a moment. So this was it? This was the reason why you've been avoiding her for months? Her jaw clenched in anger. Of course. Of course, Grayson would be targeting her... she pushed her thoughts aside, focusing on what was important.

“Blue building, three stories high, store front at the bottom, sound familiar?”

"Yes, I know the place.” She answered, gripping the cigar in her thick fingers and drawing it away from her lips.

Silco turned his chair to face her once again.

"The sheriff has been going in late at night, and leaving before sunrise.

The girl was a..... plaything of yours,” He arched his thinning brow. “right?"

Sevika averted her eyes. She despised being questioned. “I never claimed her as my own, just.. entertainment. A distraction.”

Silco leaned back in his chair, his eye never leaving Sevika’s face. "And, don't you think it's odd that the Sheriff is visiting your ‘distraction’, night after night?" his voice both serious and amused.

No, you wouldn’t. You were an attention-seeking hog, but you were too obsessed, too devoted to her for something like that. But then again... you had stopped attending to her needs. After ‘that night’ you had not shown up at the Last Drop to see her. Or tried to seduce her, shown at her doorstep for some fun, or showed your face anywhere she frequented. 

“Are you implying she’s a snitch? For Grayson? My brat?”

Silco chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. "I’m not implying anything, Sevika. I’m merely stating the facts. Grayson has been spotted entering that little seamstress shop, night after night. And I find it awfully convenient that your little pet happens to be involved."

Sevika clenched her jaw, her irritation and anger growing with every word Silco spoke. "Bullshit," she hissed. "She would never.”

But a small, nagging doubt crept into her mind. It had been months since you stopped seeing her. Could it be that you were working with Grayson? Betraying her? No, there was no way. Was there?

Sevika took a long drag from her cigarette, calming her nerves before she spoke again. "Even if Grayson has been visiting that shop, it doesn’t prove anything," Sevika said, her tone stern. “There's no proof that they are involved."

"We don't, but we don't have any proof she is not either," Silco said, looking at how his glass gleamed with the moonlight. "I was going to let two of my men give her a visit for answers, but I doubt you'd appreciate me bruising one of your apples."

Sevika grimaced at the thought of you being roughened up by some ruffians. "No. Nobody touches her. I'll handle this myself." She snuffed out, her cigar on one of Silco's trinket plates.

Sevika stood up from her seat, determined to find out the truth. She needed to know if you were truly working with Grayson and if you had sold her out. She headed towards the door, her mind set on confronting the little seamstress she had spent most nights with for the last 3 years. Her hand grasped the door's brass knob.

"Take better care of your pets, Sevika," Silco said, "She was so loyal just months ago."

Sevika paused in the doorway, her hand on the handle. Silco's words dug deep, reminding her of the once loyal girl who used to attend to her needs.

"You think I don't know that Silco?" she said, her voice low and laced with irritation. "Just... let me handle this." She walked out and slammed the door behind her.

[angievue]

her doll ʚɞ billie eilish

in which you're billie's plaything and she promised she'd make you her girlfriend. is she honest?

contains smutt!! billie's manipulative, readers an airhead!! dumbification, degradation, fingering&oral (r recieving), tiny bit of edging? cheating, mentions of alcohol, random oc who's billies gf, billie isnt famous in this

wc 3.9k+

a/n this is my first one shot everr!! feedback is always appreciated!! please know that my grammar is ass and english is genuinely not my first language!! :D

"You know, it's a good thing you're done with that two-timer," your best friend says, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

She chuckles lightly as she runs the straightener through her hair effortlessly. "It's a relief you cut ties with Billie. You do know she was never gonna end things with Julie, right?"

Your head snaps back in shock, disbelief evident in your eyes. "No! She told me she was going to make me her girlfriend, but I just had to wait for Julie to get over her."

When Billie first came into your life, it felt like a fairy tale. She was the most captivating person on campus, while you were the sweet, naive girl everyone admired from afar. It seemed like fate had brought you together, except for the fact that she said a girlfriend.

After six months of seeing each other, you finally asked why you couldn't be hers. She gave you excuses, claiming Julie was in a dark place and needed her, but that you satisfied her in ways Julie couldn't. 

You were always a ditz. There was no denying it. You grew up with disappointed parents and weary teachers, it felt miraculous that you even made it to college. Little did you know, that very naïveté was what captivated Billie. She thrived on slipping into your mind, convincing you that she belonged there. She adored the way she could bend your perception, making you believe she alone knew what was truly good or bad for you.

But Julie was always lurking in the shadows of your twisted love. Your encounters with Billie were sworn in secrecy, whispered beneath the canopy of night. Billie never missed an opportunity to tell you how much better you were than Julie; her words both intoxicating and confusing. Yet, despite her relentless cheating, you wondered—if you were so much greater, why didn’t she just end things with Julie?

Eventually, you grew tired of being her secret and decided to end things. And of course, she didn’t take that well. She blew up your phone, relentless and pleading, until you could take no more and finally blocked her. If Billie wasn’t willing to claim you as hers, then you had no choice but to walk away. You vowed to yourself, and your friends, that you wouldn’t look back, even though every part of you longed to.

"It kills me how you're such an airhead, Y/N," she said, her voice sharp with frustration. "She never broke up with her. I saw them together not long ago, wrapped around each other like they were the only two people in the world. She lied to you, just so she could keep fucking you over. Can’t you see that? Now, for the last time, hurry up and finish your hair. We're leaving at nine, and you can’t go looking like this."

You grab the straightner, confused at her words. Before you blocked her, Billie swore to you that she'd break up with Julie and go straight to you, and if she really was going to why would she be seen a couple days ago cuddling up to her? Why would Billie lie to you?

The overpowering smell of stale alcohol and sweat fills the air as you roam the upper floors of the three-story mansion, looking for a quiet room to rest. You lost track of your friends long ago and now feel a bit dazed from the shot of tequila you’ve had.

Parties were never your scene, in fact you’d only attend them if your friends dragged you or if Billie was there. She never misses a chance to eye you hungrily, her lips curling into a teasing smile at the mere sight of you.

You remember one particular night vividly. You were at a Halloween party, wearing the shortest skirt you owned, acutely aware that Billie would likely be eyeing you. As you made your way to the bar, you suddenly turned to find Julie and Billie lips intertwined. Your breath caught in your throat, not just from the sight, but because Billie’s gaze was locked on you, piercing through you as if she were the one kissing you.

Soon after, you recall her telling you to meet her at her apartment, which you did without hesitation. She sat you down and demanded that you beg for her fingers, which you did so obediently. You pleaded and pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks as she loomed over you, a dark gleam in her eyes and a smirk playing on her lips. She’d blow smoke in your face from time to time to tease you even more, marking you as utterly pathetic for her.

A low groan escapes your lips as you shove a random door open, stepping into a dimly lit room. A perfectly made single bed dominates the space, its crisp white sheets a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in your mind. You stumble further inside, your hazy vision clouding your thoughts, when the sudden thud of the door slamming shut jolts you back to reality.

Turning slowly, your gaze finds itself upon Billie. Her raven hair falls like a dark waterfall around her striking blue eyes, an unsettling beauty that captivates yet confounds you. What was she doing here? Why was she in the same room as you?

She shuts the door behind her and bites her lip, eyeing your pitiful excuse for a skirt. Anger fills your cheeks as you remember what your best friend told you earlier. Even if you didn’t block Billie, she still would’ve lied to you—something you can hardly believe.

“Hi there, sweet thing. Care to explain why I’m blocked?” She leans in slightly, her gaze lingering on your mini skirt, a spark of curiosity mingling with a flicker of desire in her eyes

The way she looks at you drives you wild, igniting a heat that spreads through your entire body. Billie was aware of it—she knew exactly which buttons to push and how to push them. It’s what made you so favourable to her.

You huff in frustration and head towards the bed, feeling an overwhelming rush of emotions. Why was she so oblivious to your feelings? You’ve been yearning to be her girl for what feels like an eternity, carrying the weight of your longing like a heavy stone in your chest. The discovery that she never truly ended things with Julie twists in your stomach like a knife, a sickening realization that shatters the delicate hope you had clung to. 

In a swift motion, she grips your waist, halting your escape. With a flick of her wrist, she turns you to face her “What’s your issue?” The challenge hangs in the air, and she furrows an eyebrow, her palm heat against the small of your back, igniting every nerve in your body.

“I’m not talking to you and I don’t ever want to see you again!”

She barks out a laugh, eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh yeah? Is that why you’re still standing here, pretending to be so tough? Maybe you just don’t wanna leave without getting off...”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you grip the edge of the doorframe, fully aware that you could walk out at any moment. Yet, deep inside, you realize you crave her presence more than you want to admit.

“Whatever! I’m not saying a word to you,” you shoot back, though your voice wavers.

Billie tilts her head, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. She lets you go and you feel empty. She settles down on the bed, patting her lap. “Come sit on my lap, baby. Tell me why you’re so fussy.”

Her stance on the bed gives you an all too familiar feeling back to when you first met; your friends had left you to either get drinks or to get fucked, and you were on the verge of blacking out. You wandered to an unfamiliar room, taking in the scent of frat boys and wavering sex in the air. You sat down on the bed and felt your nerves tense up, until Billie sat beside you.. Billie’s presence had ignited something in you that night, a thrill mingled with fear. You had felt so small, so innocent under her gaze, and yet drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

She leaned in closer, her voice low and sultry, laced with promises that sent shivers down your spine. You remembered the way she brushed a stray hair behind your ear, the soft, lingering touch that made your heart race. She told you how she’s been eyeing you for a while, showering you with compliments about your beauty, how your dress clung to your curves, and how her girlfriend could never compare to you.

Her beautiful gaze had you held captive, and her whispers and promises made you turn into goo. She promised she’d make you hers one day if you let her touch you, which you did, prompting her to steal your virginity. She had promised you that she’d save you from all the evil in the world, calling you naive and unaware. Little did you know, she was the evil who took advantage of you and your mind.

You lock eyes with her and find yourself longing for her, and you obediently lower yourself onto her lap. She bites her lip, holding your gaze as her lips brush against your ear, “So?” she whispers softly.

“You… You told me you broke up with Julie! My friend told me she saw you two together,” you muster the courage to say, blinking away the tears threatening to spill from your doe-like eyes.

“Aww, sweet girl,” Billie coos, her fingers caressing your cheek. “You’ve misunderstood…”

“Really?” You look up at her.

“Yeah, I was just returning some things to Julie after our breakup, and she offered to treat me to ice cream. It was nothing serious, angel.”

You tilt your head, doubt creeping in. “But she said she saw you two cuddling!”

Billie blinks, and for a fleeting moment, you see her features go dark before her expression softens. She smiles, “That was just me comforting her; her cat had passed away recently.”

You nod, comprehension dawning. You internally smiling, realizing that Billie would never lie to you. She did break up with her. Right?

“I hope she’s alright,” you say, feeling a pang of sympathy.

“Mmm,” Billie murmurs, her hands exploring your body, slipping beneath your skirt, and grasping your flesh with a roughness that makes you whine.

“You make the prettiest noises baby.”

She shifts your position, leaving you sprawled with your back against the bed.  With a teasing smirk, she pulls up your skirt, mumbling about how you aren’t wearing shorts under your skirt.

She let her fingers hover over your clothed cunt, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Does.. Does this mean I can be your girlfriend, Billie?”

She didn't spare you a glance, instead focusing her gaze intently on your pussy and giving it a firm slap.  “My dumb baby thinks she can block me and cut me out? How pathetic..” She teased your entrance through your underwear, making you whimper as you squeezed your hands against her arm.

“Please, Billie..”

She licks her lips with a predatory gaze. The way your tits spill out of your dress and the way you blink up at her so innocently drives her crazy. You’re her doll, and she can mold and manipulate you at her will…

“Beg baby. Tell me you’re my doll who I can do whatever I want to with.” You hesitate, your thoughts consumed by conflicting emotions about Julie and how you really longed for Billie to be yours. Memories of having to meet up privately flood your brain, you long for publicity with her. 

She drew circles against your entrance, maintaining unwavering eye contact and challenging you to beg for her. No matter what, you couldn't help but stare into her cold, blue eyes as they taunted you.

"Please, make me your girlfriend, Billie..." You choke out, revealing your true desires.

She rolled her eyes and sucked in a breath, impatient. "I will. Now shut up and beg for it, bunny. Don't you want to feel good against my fingers?"

You blinked, your mind slow to process her words. "I… I’m your doll and... You can do whatever you want to me," you admitted, your voice soft and uncertain. You were always so needy, so desperate for her. It was pathetic, but you didn't care. All that mattered was Billie.

She chuckled softly, her hand reaching out to cup your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet her eyes. "Good girl," she praised, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Such a good, needy girl."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat. You swallowed hard, your eyes fluttering closed as you leaned into her touch. God, you were such an airhead, so easily manipulated, so eager to please. It was embarrassing, but that’s what drove Billie insane, you're her own personal doll.

Billie’s hand started to travel, her fingers trailing down your thigh, inching closer and closer to the apex of your legs. 

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a whimper, but it escaped anyway. Her touch was electric, setting every nerve ending on fire.

"Quiet, sweet girl," she whispered, her voice soothing yet commanding. "Let me take care of you."

You could feel yourself melting under her words, your body relaxing against the plush chair. Your skirt was already riding up, exposing more of your thighs, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was Billie.

Her fingers finally reached their destination, slipping between your folds with practiced ease. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily against her hand. She gave your pussy a slap, her fingers lashing against your sensitive flesh.

"Keep still," she observed, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Already dripping... What a slut you are."

The degrading words should have made you cringe, but instead, they only served to heighten your arousal. You moaned softly, your head falling back as you surrendered to the sensations she was stirring within you.

"Mmm," you moaned, your voice breaking as another wave of pleasure rolled through you. You felt like you were melting against her fingers.

Her fingers delved deeper, finding your clit and giving it a firm pinch. You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your climax. Red heats up your cheeks, embarrassed you finished quite quick, but that’s what drives her insane, she wasn’t done with you yet. She continued to stroke and toy with your sensitive nub, prolonging your orgasm until you thought you might lose your mind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she withdrew her hand, leaving you gasping for breath and trembling. Her eyes glittered with amusement as she licked your slick off her fingers then llifted them to your lips, watching you licking them slowly and seductively.

"Mmm, she could never have a pussy as sweet as yours," she purred, her gaze locked onto yours. "Such sweet, needy pussy."

You could barely form a response, too overwhelmed by the intensity of what she'd just done to you. All you could manage was a weak whimper.

But Billie wasn't satisfied with that. She leaned in even closer, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, "tell me you’re a slut baby. A useless dumb slut all for me."

You hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to find the right words. She nudged you with her knee, a silent reminder that she wouldn't be patient forever.

"I... I'm your dumb, needy slut," you finally stammered, the words spilling out in a rush. "Your dirty little plaything."

Your words surprised you, she could mold you into whatever she wanted. Earlier in the night you were pleading to be her girlfriend and now you don’t care what you are to her.

A satisfied smile spread across her lips. "Good girl," she said, patting your cheek gently. "And now, let's see how much more you can take before you completely break."

With that, she rose, her fingers once again reaching for your skirt. This time, she yanked it up higher, revealing your drenched pussy to the world. You whimpered, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but there was nothing you could do to stop her.

"Spread your legs," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

You obeyed without question, parting your thighs wide open for her. She knelt down in front of you, her eyes roaming over your glistening folds with obvious delight.

"Beautiful," she breathed, her fingers dipping back into your slick heat. "So fucking beautiful."

You moaned, your body arching towards her as she began to tease you once more. This time, however, she wasn't content with just fingers. No, she wanted something more…

Billie stood between your legs, her eyes dark with lust as she stared down at you. Her lips twisted into a cruel smile, revealing teeth that glinted menacingly in the faint light. She leaned closer, her breath hot against your inner thigh, and whispered, "You’re nothing but my personal little slut, aren’t you? A pathetic whore.”

Her words stung, cutting deep into your already fragile self-esteem. But there was something about the way she said them, the way her voice dripped with disdain, that made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to deny it, to scream back at her that she was wrong, but the truth was, she wasn’t. Not entirely. Deep down, you knew she was right. Knew that you were weak, that you needed someone like her to take control, to control your every action, to make you feel something other than the numbness that had settled over you.

Billie must have sensed your hesitation, because her smile grew wider, more sinister. "That’s what I thought," she purred, her fingers trailing up your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "But don’t worry, sweetie. I’m going to make sure you remember just how much of a whore you really are."

With that, she lowered her head, her tongue darting out to flick against your clit. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that shot straight to your core, making you gasp and arch your back. But Billie wasn’t done. She let out a low chuckle, her breath warm against your sensitive flesh, and then began to circle your clit with the tip of her tongue. Slowly, deliberately, she increased the pressure, her movements almost taunting in their precision.

"Do you like that?" she asked, her voice mocking as she continued to tease you. "Do you like feeling my tongue on you, making you squirm? Or is it too much for my dumb baby?”

Your mind was a tangled mess of conflicting emotions. On one hand, you hated her for the way she spoke to you, for the way she reduced you to nothing more than a plaything for her amusement. But on the other hand, her words—no, her entire presence—had a strange effect on you. They made you feel... alive. Like the emptiness inside you was finally being filled, if only by pain and humiliation.

"That’s it," Billie murmured, her tongue now flicking back and forth over your clit in quick, sharp strokes. "Beg for it. Beg me to keep going, my little baby."

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your resolve crumbling under the weight of her dominance. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. All you could do was moan, your hips bucking against her tongue as the pleasure built inside you.

"Beg,” Billie demanded, her voice harsh, unyielding. "My little slut. Don’t you dare try to ever run away from me again. You belong to me."

The words tumbled out of you in a rush, your voice trembling with both shame and arousal. "Please... please don’t stop... I need you to... I love... I wanna..."

Before you could finish, Billie pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. She looked down at you, her expression cold and calculating. "Need me to what?" she asked, her tone sharpening with impatience.

"I need you to make me forget," you blurted out, your voice barely above a whisper. "Make me forget how worthless I am..."

For a moment, Billie just stared at you, her eyes narrowing as she processed your words. Then, she let out a low, satisfied hum. "Good girl," she said, her voice softening just enough to send a thrill of excitement through you. "But just so we’re clear, you’re not allowed to come until I say so. Understand?"

You nodded quickly, your body trembling with anticipation. Billie smirked and then returned her attention to your throbbing clit, her tongue sliding back into place with a slow, deliberate pressure that left you gasping. This time, however, she didn’t tease. Instead, she dove right in, her tongue swirling around your clit in broad, sweeping circles that sent waves of pleasure crashing through you.

"Ahh... fuck... Billie..." you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as your body arched up towards hers, desperate for more.

"Shhh," Billie soothed, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she continued to lap at you. "Just relax, angel girl. Let me take care of everything. You don’t need to think anymore. Just feel."

Her words echoed in your mind, wrapping around your thoughts like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter until all you could focus on was the sensation of her tongue on your skin. The world outside the bedroom faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in a battle of wills—hers to dominate, yours to submit.

And yet, as much as you hated to admit it, part of you reveled in it. In the way she made you feel, in the way she took control and forced you to confront your deepest, darkest desires. It was as if she had unlocked something inside you, something primal and raw, and now that it was free, there was no going back.

Billie must have sensed the shift in your demeanor, because she suddenly changed tactics, her tongue dipping down to flick at the entrance of your pussy before plunging inside. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and surprise that left you gasping for breath.

"Oh God... Billie...!" you cried out, your body jerking as she continued to thrust her tongue deeper, exploring every inch of you with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

"Good girl," she murmured again, her voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh as she spoke. "That’s it. Just let go. Let me make you forget everything."

And with that, she sealed her lips around your clit, sucking gently as her tongue continued to work its magic. The combination was too much, too intense, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm, your body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Please... please let me come..." you begged, your voice cracking with desperation.

But Billie wasn’t done yet. She pulled back, her eyes gleaming with triumph as she watched you squirm beneath her. "Not yet," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "We’re just getting started."

You whine at her words, desperate for a release. Everything was at her will, and it was clear that you truly were her doll. 

a/n sorry i got kinda lazy at the end idk!! hope you enjoyed to some extent! this is my first time actually writing smut so idk how i didd plz give some feedback :D

[rezitio]

"𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐄" gojo satoru

smut. series masterlist

leak: You find yourself in Gojo's bed again

genre: post-high school series, college sex, plaything, smart!rr, realistic college fuckboy (You're just a plaything), messy org, p in v, dacryphillia, gojo is high, sweet talk

artist: gojo satoru

━━━━━━

All your senses are dulled; that smart brain that was always at work, either running that sharp mouth or your honour roll grades, has gone blank.

But you're not spaced out either. You wish you could be, but each thrust brings you right back to the present. The pleasure you’re feeling down there won’t allow you to even dream of being anywhere other than the reality of Gojo Satoru’s bed being pounded into.

But who are you to complain? You called for this. Blowing up his phone with shit like ‘I need you’ when his other girl is right next to him. He was so close to blocking your number if you kept flooding his DMs.

But all it took was one nude to get this man to blow off the other girl and invite you over. You’re lucky, you tell yourself.

So lucky that fuckboy Gojo has a liking for your body. The boy who all he does is lead and everyone cheers.

He’s calling you to his bed of all places. For all his other hoes, it's either their house or another room in his mega mansion; the university calls a dorm. You’d like to think it makes you special. You’re not.

He’s digging you deep into the mattress with each thrust. Your eyes dart across the room; it's all you can do other than yell. The room was dark; the only light around was the blue LED strips hidden by the ceiling designs, matching his eyes.

The whites in his eyes had turned a light red. Contrast to your sober ones. That should have been your first sign, but from ignoring red eyes to red flags, warnings have never been your strong suit.

Your clothes and his mixed on the floor, the purple liquid on the nightstand that got knocked down somewhere in between the time you still had energy to squirm around was still dripping onto the expensive carpet.

Gojo didn’t care; he had enough money to buy another one. Right next to the cup of lean was his firearm. You don't know what happened to him during his teen years that made him turn out like this, but those who knew him when he was in his senior years all say it was inevitable for him and his group.

The lights were all so pretty. Illuminating behind the design of the ceiling. You wanted to get a better look at it, gently raising your head to look up, only for it to roughly be pushed back down.

Just like that, you were brought back to the reality of things: how deep he was in you, how loudly you were screaming. His dick was ravaging you at a constant rhythm. It was hitting that spot repeatedly with each thrust. And his dick wouldn’t even leave your warmth for a second, keeping you filled up.

A drop of salty water finds a way to your mouth. That's when you notice a pool of wet cloth around your face. You had been crying for a while now, although you’re now noticing it Gojo’s been staring at it for a while, but he didn’t care to slow down. In fact, it gave him an ego boost.

You’re crying yet at the same time begging him not to stop; how pathetic could you be? Tired of the noise, his digits find a way into your mouth. You know what he wants you to do; you suck on them, muffling your sounds. In other words, you shut up.

It was working for a while. He could deal with the vibrations on his fingers masking your loud moans until he felt himself getting close. He could care less about the progress he was making and quickened his pace chasing the release.

Trying to keep your sound in, you bite down on his fingers. He didn't mind; all his other sensations dulled down and focused on his cock. He could feel his body teasing him, electric currents rushing from his sacks through to his length, then dancing at his tip as more electricity piles on his tip.

God, he loved your body so much. It was like it was in perfect sync with his. Your lower body started shaking on his dick; the screams were slipping out; you were also close.

Your fingers reached for the hand binding them, digging your nails into his skin. “Toru…” You yelped out, but he already knew; a little bit of your white liquid was already running down his thigh. You were doing such a bad job of holding your orgasm.

“Cum on me, baby.” He commanded his hand, left your hands, and began to work on your clit as you released. All his self-confidence decimated as he felt his own orgasm rushing out and had no control over it. He was no better than you.

He pulled out, and your cream blew over his thigh; he didn't have time to mind it, though. His finger in your mouth pulled your head back quickly, rushing to release in your mouth. But he barely had control over the pleasure you made him feel.

The little squirter almost missed your mouth, causing part of his walls and the side of your face to be painted in the same liquid that was now rushing down your throat. He sandwiched your head between the mattress and his dick, enjoying the vibration of your gags and gurgles.

“Sh... struggle with me...” He lowly whispered as if he wasn't suffocating you. God, he hated how messy you were and how messy and stimulated you made him.

label: rezitio© album: post-high school au sample: Yale by Ken Carson

im currently writing a nanami fiction, so buckle up for that 😛

kodaswrld for banner

[jeon-ify]

THE TWO SIDES OF MINGI ! - DUALITY

18+

your mingi,

- mingi who loves to wake up with your hair all over his chest, listening to your soft breathing— tiny gasps eliciting from your throat every minute or so.

- mingi who loves to wake you up calmly, watching the way your eyes squint from the champagne colored sun

- mingi who loves making breakfast to bring to you in bed when you’re feeling down

- mingi who loves listening to you talk about nothing. he can watch you ramble for hours— he’ll come up with a response even though he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

- mingi who loves your voice and your singing— he can listen to your voice all day and night

- mingi who loves and believes in you like a religion, loving how strong and confident you both make each other.

- mingi who can hold you for days when you cry.

- mingi who loves talking about you to his mom, the headache she gets hearing mingi ramble about how pretty and funny you are.

but then theres mingi,

- mingi who hates watching you talk to his friends like they’re the funniest people in the world.

- mingi who hates hearing your name come out of other people’s mouths. no one knows you like he does.

- mingi who hates when you don’t let him touch you when you’re out at dinner.

- mingi who hates having you on top. he wants to use you as his own personal plaything.

- mingi who hates being denied an orgasm. he’ll fuck you 100 times worse and make you feel much more than what he did.

- mingi who pulls on your hair with his left hand and chokes you with his right while he fucks you from the back.

- mingi who calls you his bitch when he’s deep in your stomach.

- mingi who facetimes yunho when he wants to share you (catch him at the right time, he’ll let yunho fuck you too.)

- mingi who moans and grunts in your ear like he’s ran a marathon [“fuck— oh my god, my bitch feels so good. who’s pussy is this?”]

- mingi who makes you respond— and if you don’t, he’ll pull out until you fully respond with no stutter. and if you do stutter, you get less of what he gives you.

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hello lovelies! how do we feel about chellateez? i know they’re gonna serve.

enjoy this small little work, i’m still on writers block and i hope you guys can understand :/

[azsazz]

Just Hold On

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand just loves to make you cum.

Warnings: Smut, prolonging orgasms, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, m dom f sub, oral, f receiving.

Word Count: 1,239

Notes: I should be writing smut for Kinktober but you know how I be.

_________________________________________

Hold on, darling, he purrs in your mind and you want to scream. Your chest builds with it, burning hot as he holds you on the cusp of oblivion. You try to jerk against his mouth but he wills your body still, rubbing the inside of your thighs that are shaking with the urge to slam closed around his head. I’m not quite finished yet.

Please, you cry in response, but the blood in your ears drowns out his response. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe the longer Rhys tortures you like this, the building ache between your legs for the need to release is too great. Your fingers twitch but you can’t unfurl them where they’re clutching the sheets. Please, I can’t–

You don’t have to worry about if you can’t, darling, Rhys answers, sucking harshly at your clit. It makes your spine want to curve off of the bed, toes curl into the sheets but you can’t do a godsdamned thing with the grasp he has on you. 

You might break. He might very well shatter your mind for this, or trap you inside this inferno of passion so great that you feel like you’ve descended into Hel itself. Mouth parted in a silent scream as he works, taking his fill of you until you’re a begging mess. His filthy words in your head ring in time with the way he’s flicking his tongue, swirling around your aching bud, red and swollen as he nips and sucks.

I think I might just keep you here all night, he admits sinfully and you want to cry. Your nose prickles with the feeling of the emotion and tears well in your eyes but not a single one falls. You’re forced to beg instead, utterly unable to move a muscle, even if your thighs are shaking and your chest aches with the pounding of your heart.

It’s the best you’ve ever felt but also the worst, stuck there as he draws your orgasm from you like you’re nothing more than his plaything. 

Rhys, baby, please, I can’t, I can’t, it’s too much, you beg, but the High Lord feasting between your legs doesn’t falter. Your words mean nothing to him and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s blocked you out completely, ready to take what he wants as he always does. Gods, your frustrated scream is in your own head he teeths across your clit, pulling it with a harsh suck. 

I love it when you get all needy. His voice in your head all languid and delighted sends fire coursing through your veins. Makes my cock so fucking hard. 

He lets your mouth part in a moan that rattles the walls. It makes him shudder and bury his face deeper. His cock leaking against his thigh, and his hands are pulling your waist tighter and tighter against his face as he releases you, wanting you to writhe and fight him to get away from the pleasure he’s pulling.

Your heart slams in your chest and your hands fly to his hair, gripping the dark, damp, tendrils in a firm grip. You try your hardest to rip his head from your cunt but he’s too strong, too adamant about making you cum again and again and again.

He’s being sloppy with it, tongue moving in long strokes across your cunt. He even dips down and slides his mouth against your hole, which causes you to jump. Rhys is ready though, teeth exposed so your  swollen clit grazes across them, tearing a whimper from your mouth. 

Cum for me darling, let me taste you.

“Haven’t you had enough yet?” You pant, but you can barely speak with how heavy your chest is moving, begging for air.  Rhysand doesn’t allow it, his hold on you strong, even with the amount of times he’s made you practice shoving him out. 

Pleasure coils your body like a viper. It’s building in your gut, so deep inside of you where no one besides Rhys could ever reach. He toys with you, and the unmistakable feeling is mirrored in his own body, the bond reflecting your emotions tenfold. His cock aches but he refuses to touch himself because he’s too busy touching you and he wouldn’t dare remove himself from your body. 

You are the air I breathe, the essence that gives me life, his words add to the heat pooling in your gut and you clutch him tighter and tighter as he draws you nearer towards the edge. I will never get enough of you.

Like a whip, you come crashing down. You rut against his tongue like something desperate, squeezing his head between your legs as you pull him tighter by his blue-black hair, rocking against him. He lets you, lets you take from him in that desperate way he always feels when he’s around you. It’s the primal need to be near him, to be inside of you, your souls match each other's. 

If he could cut you open and climb inside of your body he would, and he loves the way you take what you want from him, even when he’s the one holding you on the cusp of your orgasm. 

It lasts too long, as Rhys takes hold of your mind, the only way he can be inside of you is to do so mentally, and the euphoria he feels inside has him finally allowing himself to give his cock a stroke. He prolongs your orgasm, keeping you in the kaleidoscope of emotions whirling around in your mind, body, and soul.

Your breath is stuck in your chest, the feeling overwhelming, even more so than the plethora of orgasms Rhysand has graced you with this evening. You can barely feel the light lapping of his tongue between your trembling thighs. You can hardly hear the soft moan he makes as he suckles your juices like they give him life. He fists his cock roughly in his hand. He won’t let you come down from your high until he’s cum too.

It feels like you’re blind, with the stars and spots consuming your vision. There’s a ringing in your ears and a rattle in your chest. Your fingers are stiff, aching from your grip in Rhys’ hair and your muscles ache from being locked up so tightly.

He releases you all at once, cum spurting from his cock and onto his legs, the bedding that’s slipped off the side of the bed, the floor. Air whooshes from you and your body goes lax. You keep your hand in his hair but it’s softer now, petting, reassuring yourself that he’s here with you. 

Rhysand kisses your thighs softly and continues up your body until he’s settling across the bed and pulling you into his body. Your eyes flutter open weakly to meet that glorious violet gaze, and your heart skips at that perfect smirk he’s wearing. 

His eyes are soft though, no more teasing than he usually is, and you can taste yourself on his mouth when he kisses you gently, dipping into your mouth for a sweet kiss while he holds your pliable body closer, tucking you into his side like he likes. 

He presses gentle kisses to your cheeks, nose, across your eyelids because you’ve closed them again, beyond exhausted. Rhys brushes hair from your face, admiring you, glowing in the buttery light of his room. 

His mate, his muse.

[sublimetragedychopshop]

Player yandere!!

Player! Yan being a hoe all throughout their life. Their amazing good looks and trust fund money makes people not think twice before jumping into bed with them. Thinking they are special because “oh my god this is how our love story starts! Their in love with me!🥰” only for them to either be shoved a plan b in their hands the next morning, shoved out of their flat and blocked on all social media. If that person even tries to confront yan the next day, yan just goes “do I know you?” With the straightest face ever. Like they are an ASSHOLE when it comes to people who are in love with them. They have never been in love before and everytime someone gets upset at them or curses them, they just shrug it off as another Tuesday. “Fuck you!!when you fall in love, I hope they stomp on your heart and light it on fire!” Another wounded soul that was the victim of their shenanigans exclaimed.

They just laugh and move on with their day. Them? In love?? Not gonna happen sweetheart. People fall in love with THEM not the other way around.

Until they meet their darling. Of course theirs always that “special someone” usually displayed as the innocent pure person. But that isn’t how my stories go. Idgaf darling that is just trying to scrape by in life. They know, that yan is an entitled asshole and proceed to stay away from them. Shouldn’t have been hard right? Wrong. They made the mistake of telling yan to “get lost” when yan tried to talk up their friend. Of course some hostility towards them is kind of common but usually from their ex playthings. They play innocent wondering if you were a past lay, while trying to chummy up to you.

At first it was a joke, them seeking you out just to play innocent infront of you. Flirting as a joke, just to rile you up or make you blush (too bad you just look at them with a dead inside look) in fact they started considering you their newest exciting game. See how long until you fall.

Unexpectedly you stood strong, any advance they tried to make, you blocked it, any sweet moment they calculated, you dodged it, any ‘special’ connection they tried to formulate just pushed you away even further. It was driving them crazy, but their selfish pride never let them walk away. And despite everything you never cussed them out, chased them out or showed anger to them. It almost made them think of you as some sociopath.

After some time they started thinking about you. All.the.time. Scenarios on how to make you blush. Daydreams of how you would look when you crumbled under them. Strategies to take up more of your time. Until they began dreaming of you. Fun thing about dreams they usually mean underlying feelings in a person. Sweet dreams of you, usually you smiling at them or being happy. They feel so light in the dreams, so fuzzy. Craving them when their gone or you giving them your usual dead look. They don’t take it seriously at first, of course they began dreaming about you, they almost see you everyday! Then the nerves started showing up, hesitation. Whenever they tried to make a sly move before, they did so confidently. Now they do it, and you look at them with those uninterested eyes, and suddenly they have to look away. A small pink hue flooding their face.

Is it normal to hate people that come close to you? Before others looked at THEM with jealousy. Now they glare at anyone that is buddy buddy with you. These low life’s seeing you smile and laugh. While THEY barely get a glance. It’s unbelievable. No they aren’t jealous! They probably have a good reason for this feeling!

God, their friends see them acting weird and confront them about it. “Dude are you okay? I get that this person is like your ‘conquest’ or whatever but your taking this too seriously.” “So what? I’m not a quitter. Or do you think that they are capable of resisting me!?” They exclaim. “Nah! I just mean-don’t take them so seriously! How about we go to a party with a bunch of hot chicks/dudes. They won’t know.” It made them think. At first a bitter taste of disgust hit them until they buried it. ‘Yeah, tons of better broads are willing to open their legs after just a glance. I just need to get back in the game.’ So they go, a random party full of drunk people. It’s where they feel most comfortable. But something doesn’t feel right? It’s almost like they are waiting, waiting for something. Someone. They can’t help but turn around when a voice similar to yours starts talking. Can’t help but look around when a jacket that looks like yours is found. They do it on accident until someone points it out, and they get mad. Enraged.

It seemed to be a tipping point because they have never got that drunk before. Pulling someone they don’t even know into a room with them. Kissing, groping until the start the deed. At first it feels good, so good. They feel like they got high for the first time again. Until this random stranger starts sounding like you. Their drunk mind filling the gaps. Suddenly the stranger doesn’t just sound like you, it looks like you. They moan and groan and god does it sound so good. They couldn’t help themselves, stupidly they moaned your name. The other person seemed to not hear it the first couple of times, until yan starts screaming it as they cum. Suddenly they get smacked in the face and get left by themselves on the bed.

It was a wake up call, a moment of realization. Hours passed by in a flash because of their drunk mind. Only thing they could think about now was you. They were in love. IN. LOVE. With you, of all people. Thinking that they could NEVER experience this sensation, it was a gut punch. Small chuckles left their lips, soon it turned into an explosive laughter! As they clutched their heart, beating- demanding to leave their chest and run to you, they knew that you owned them now. Belonging to you and only you. Just needing to let you understand that is all that is left…

(Hope my writing is getting better! This was an old draft that I just decided I NEEDED to post. Mainly cuz I’m still working on a part 2 on my self deprecating yandere Drabble! Sorry my brain is out of juice is all 😭)

[stxrsniolo]

ㅤ ݁ ꉂ rough makeup sex with harsh leader!matt ᴖ ֽ ㅤᷭ

warnings explicit sexual content. anger and resentment. power dynamics. rough sex. combat and violence. emotional conflict. dubious consent. intense emotional scenes.

pairings: harsh leader!matt x fresh meat!reader (asks and requests about this pairing are open)

find more of this pairing here: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

y/n was finally having a moment to herself, her free time a rare commodity in the relentless schedule of the special agent training base. she was in her small, utilitarian room, trying to find some peace, when the door burst open. there stood matt, his presence commanding, his eyes burning with an intensity that was both familiar and unsettling.

"follow me," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument, the boston accent thick with authority. grudgingly, y/n complied, her steps heavy with the weight of her resentment, her heart still sore from the words and the harshness of the last training session.

matt led her to an area of the base designed for physical training, the floor covered in mats, surrounded by equipment for combat and conditioning, the air thick with the scent of rubber and sweat, the echoes of past exertions lingering.

"why am i here? wasn't humiliating me in front of everyone enough?" y/n spat out, her voice laced with pain and defiance.

matt didn't answer right away, his gaze softening for a moment before he masked it with his usual stern demeanor. "we're going to work on your combat skills," he said, though the truth was he wanted this moment alone with her, to touch her, perhaps even to make amends in his stubborn, twisted way.

y/n scoffed, her anger palpable. "i'm not your plaything to be jerked around whenever you feel like it."

he stepped closer, the tension between them electric. "then prove you're not just a plaything. show me what you've got," matt challenged, his voice low, a mix of provocation and something else, something he wouldn't admit.

the sparring started with y/n throwing herself into it, her movements fueled by her anger, her strikes aimed at matt with a personal vendetta.

she came at him with a ferocity that matched her inner turmoil, her fists flying, each hit a physical manifestation of her resentment while matt, for his part, allowed her hits, his body absorbing the blows, a part of him feeling he deserved this, another part finding the aggression strangely arousing. he blocked some, but let others land, her fists connecting with his chest, his arms, his face, each hit a release for her, each one stoking his own fire.

"you think this makes up for anything?!" she yelled, her punches fueled by her resentment, her sorrow, her frustration, landing a particularly hard punch to his jaw, making him grunt.

matt's patience snapped.

he countered with his own force, his training taking over, his fists finding her, not to hurt, but to engage, to push her further.

they grappled, their bodies close, the fight turning from a training session into something more personal, more primal.

y/n managed a kick to his side, her foot connecting with a thud, but matt wrapped his arms around her, bringing her down to the mat with him, the impact hard, their bodies rolling, struggling for dominance.

"answer me, you fucking asshole," she hissed, her breath hot, her eyes blazing with defiance as she tried to knee him, but he was quick, his leg pinning hers down.

matt's control was slipping, his own anger, his own desire, mixing into a dangerous cocktail when he pinned her wrists above her head, his body covering hers, his breath hot against her face. "no," he growled, "but this might."

his lips crashed against hers in a kiss that was all punishment and desire, rough, claiming. y/n struggled, her anger still blazing, but the heat of his body, the intensity of his kiss, began to melt her resistance.

"fuck you," she hissed between kisses, her hands now clawing at him, pulling him closer even as she fought against the desire he was forcing upon her.

matt didn't give her time to think, his hands already working on her clothes, his touch rough, possessive. he tore at her shirt, buttons flying, exposing her skin to the cool air of the training room, his fingers found the waistband of her pants, yanking them down, revealing her to him while his cock was getting harder, throbbing with a need that had been building since their confrontation, its length and girth heavy with desire, the head already slick with pre-cum.

"i'll fuck the anger out of you," he promised, his voice a dark whisper, his hand guiding his erection to her entrance.

he didn't bother with foreplay; this wasn't about tenderness; he entered her with a thrust that was all about domination, about making her feel his presence, his power.

his cock stretched her, the sensation overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure, her body adjusting to his size, each thrust was deep, brutal, his hips snapping against hers, his body covering hers completely, their sweat mingling on the mat.

"still angry?" he grunted, each movement a testament to his strength, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her moan despite herself, her body betraying her with every shudder.

"yes," she gasped out, her voice a mix of defiance and ecstasy, her breasts heaving with each breath, her nipples hard from the friction of their bodies. her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, her body responding to the raw, primal need between them.

matt fucked her with abandon, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her onto him, the sounds of their bodies meeting loud in the empty training area. He was relentless, his cock sliding in and out of her, the slickness of her arousal coating him, each stroke stoking the fire within them both.

he grinned and watched her face, the mix of anger and pleasure, her body flush with exertion and arousal. when she came, it was with a cry that was as much rage as it was release, her body shuddering under him, her pussy clenching around his cock, milking him.

matt followed shortly after, his release a mix of relief and something akin to sorrow, his thrusts slowing as he filled her, their breaths mingling in the aftermath.

as they lay there, the sweat cooling on their skin, matt finally spoke, his voice softer now, the edge of his usual command gone. "i pushed you too hard, i’m sorry.”

🐦‍⬛ ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤ whisper ㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my murder of crows: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz

in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist.

[crimsonbastard]

"Criston Cole is an Incel! He called Rhaenyra slurs! He killed Innocent People! He led his men to a fiery death!"

Blah blah blah, I couldn't care less about him calling a White Woman of noble birth slurs, especially when the said woman carelessly endangered him and treated him as a sneaky link (He literally told her to "stop" and tried to walk away. Don't give me a hateful 10 Page essay on how he should've yeeted her or ran to Viserys, when he's her literal employee. I'll just fucking block you).

Calling Women Slurs? who doesn't in that sad medieval world? Women call Women slurs, Men call Women Slurs, it's misogyny battle royale, although it doesn't make it right, I would rather have him have beef with One Woman of higher class who personally wronged him rather than disrespect sex workers (which he doesn't). He in fact treats them respectfully.

He killed Innocent People!

- Nobody cares about Joffrey. Even if they do, they just bring him up to hate Cole and accuse him of homophobia. Honestly speaking, I would rather have Cole kill him in a tourney than a wedding.

- Beesebury, bro killed another Team Black Glazer? So what? Daemon gets brownie points for killing Vaemond who was speaking the truth about Rhaenyra committing treason by putting her bastsrds up for the Throne and Driftmark (the writers are so biased that they made him call her a whore just so that they can distract us from the fact that he was making sense), but Cole killing Beesebury who was accusing Alicent of committing Regicide is a big no?

Led his men to death by dragon fire. The keyword being "led his men". He WAS on the Battlefield, he was fighting alongside his men, he was getting his hands dirty, and he too was prepared to die for the cause.

He didn't sit back and grab a bucket of popcorn as he watched his men die. He fought with them and he would've died too if it weren't for the fluke of him falling.

He doesn't take responsibility for his faults.

- He asks Alicent to give him a merciful death when he willingly confessed his sin of sleeping with Rhaenyra.

- He tries to kill Himself after the wedding, if it weren't for Alicent.

- He's still suicidal and nihilistic, but only keeps going for Alicent.

Now comes the disclaimer that yes he can be hated for his crimes. But I'll say this, overhating his character is no longer funny, it has gone to the point where he's being placed in the same tier list as Joffrey, Ramsey and Daemon. Like people, he's not some psychopath who tortures and mutilates people after hunting them down with hounds, nor is he a rich privileged brat who sees people as playthings to inflict his cruelty on. Or someone who bashes his wife's head with a rock or orders hits on toddler's.

He's a douchebag for sure. But placing him in THAT tier with THOSE characters? Really?

[selfloverrrrrr]

can you do geto nonconing monkey reader with forced breeding! would also love if you can make him a hard dom as well like he was doing reader a favor!

Plaything~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Geto, cult leader Geto, stalking, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

"we found her, Geto-sama" a man said who was holding me. I don't know what was happening. I was in the garden when these people kidnapped me and took me here. I looked up to see who they're calling Geto-sama. I saw a guy with long black hair, sharp eyes, wearing a blue yukata.

I know him!... I've seen him before. He's the new cult leader here. Everyone says he has some supernatural powers. I saw him when he was giving a speech in my city and my friend took me there. But the question is why did he order these people to kidnap me? We've never even met each other personally! "You did?... show her" Geto said.

The guy was holding me, threw me in front of Geto. I gasped as I hit the ground. I felt a hand under my chin. Geto tilted my head up. "Hmm... impressive... you've got the right girl this time" Geto said to the guy and told him to leave. He did so.

"now now... your name darling?" He asked. "Why am I here?!" I asked. "That's not the answer of my question!" He said. "Kidnapping me in the middle of nowhere and you want me to answer some stupid questions?!" I said. He looked at me. Suddenly he grabbed my hair and pulled me towards him.

Our faces were too close. "Now listen, you're a fucking non-sorcerer just like those other monkeys... I'm not killing you just because I want you... Or else you're nothing different than those monkeys! So watch your mouth." He said. I grunted in pain. He grabbed my chin tightly digging his nails on both sides of my cheeks.

"I'm asking again... What. Is. Your. Name?" He asked. "Y-y/n" I replied. "Now it wasn't that hard, was it?" He said with a smirk. "Now your question's answer...why are you here, right?...well I saw you that day with your friend or sister I don't know... I searched for you and I found out that you're a non-sorcerer...but whatever, I can use you anyway!" He said.

"now take off your clothes" he said. "What?!" I said. "Are you deaf?... I said take off your clothes " he said. "I'm not doing that!" I said. "Still wanna talk back?" He asked. "You fucking creep... I'll tell everyone what type of creepy man you are!!" I said and stood up. He grabbed my hair from the back and threw me on the couch he was sitting on.

"bitch you're talking too much... Sluts shouldn't talk too much... they should just spread their legs!" He said and slapped my cheek.with that he pressed his lips on mine. His kiss was so rough. He started undressing me. I tried to push him away but he was too strong.

He grabbed my boob and started squeezing it and I moaned in the kiss. Hearing my moan Geto stopped the kiss and crashed his mouth on my breast. I moaned out loudly. He started sucking on my breast roughly. The more I moan the more roughly he sucks and  squeeze on my breasts.

After a while he let go off my breast. I was breathing heavily. He started undressing himself. He took off his shirt and pant. He was now only wearing his boxers. I can see the outline of his bulge through his boxers and there was a wet spot where the tip of his dick touched his boxer. Fear grabbed me by my neck.

His hand reached for my pantie and he ripped it off. He looked at my pussy hungrily. He parted my pussy lips with his fingers and crashed his mouth on it, sucking on it roughly. I moaned so loudly. I tried to push him away by pulling his hair but nothing nothing nothing. He just continued his work. He pulled back and lined himself with me."please please please no no no" I cried. "Shhh....this is the main fun part" he whispered and slammed his whole length in one slide without any warning. I screamed and grabbed his back."oh my fucking god god god god god god......ahhhhhhhhhhh" he moaned out feeling my warm wet walls around him.

His thrust became harder and harder. I was an moaning and crying mess."you are so fucking...ahhh .... tight" he moaned out. With a few more thrust I came. dig my nails on his back. Feeling my warm wall clenching around him he came within a minute. I already fainted.

"Little slut, you're lucky that I chose you to be mine..... better behave like a fucking housewife after you wake up...or else I can get rougher you know " he whispered in my ear.

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[mythicmanuscripts]

imagine aegon and reader. One evening he tries to surprise reader in the bedroom by waiting for her wearing a robes of heavy silk, that flow around him like water, a picture of unearthly beauty. i see him nervous, blushing, he has never worn things like that and doesnt know he reader will like it.

Thx xoxo

Alright lads buckle up we’re finally discussing feminisation with Aegon!!! Truly a match made in heaven.

NSFW sub!Aegon below the cut! Also, I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea so I’ll be tagging all feminisation content with ‘femboy hotd’ so block that tab if you’d rather not see this. Otherwise, venture beyond cut for my initial thoughts :))

Right so firstly, Aegon wants to be pretty. He has always wanted to be pretty. People have called him handsome, which is appreciated of course, but he wants to be pretty. He wants to feel pretty.

I think maybe he’s had a very expensive little collection of women’s clothes since before he even married you? He never told another soul about them of course. He especially never told the brothel workers he laid with because he knew they’d only let him wear those clothes as humiliation.

But then he marries you and you become closest ally and he falls in love? It all changes.

You make him feel pretty. You open the door for him and keep a hand around his waist and kiss his head and he feels so pretty and so…. So small? But in the best way possible, like he’s some beautiful precious thing that has to be handled with care.

Ever since you had started taking control in the bedroom, Aegon wanted to bring his pretty clothes into things but he was so so nervous about it. You’ve been nothing but loving and supporting of him and especially of his subby side so logically he knows that you’ll most likely be fine with. But that’s not a risk he’s willing to take.

He doesn’t know what he’ll be able to survive if you looked at him disgust when you found out. So he keeps it to himself, even though he wants to dress up for you so bad his chest aches with it.

Until one day when Aegon is laying on the his back naked in bed. You’re sitting between his legs and playing with him, alternating between playing with his cock and his and a combination of both. But while you’re doing this you’re also being so casual? You chat to Aegon, smiling at him and chatting like you haven’t just edged him for the 3rd time.

Without even thinking about it, you say “You’re so pretty.” He pauses for a moment, and then when he looks back at you he’s got this timid little smile on his face as he asks you to say it again.

From there you just have to continue talking about how pretty he is and how his job is to be your plaything and you’re so lucky to have him.

That interaction is what gives Aegon the courage to wear one of his pretty silk robes for you the next night. He makes sure he’s back at your quarters before you and ordered all the servants out, telling them that they working needed until the next morning and then quickly bathing and putting on his pretty coat with nothing else on. He’d love to add some shoes or pretty panties but he’s worried that might be too much.

Walking into our room and seeing Aegon sprawled out on the bed in a pretty silk may have genuinely taken years off your life.

He’s all shy and blushy until you promise him that he looks so good and you love it so much. You dom him with the robe still on and don’t even take it off to ride him.

Once he’s recovered and is cuddled up against your chest he asks if you’re sure you liked the robe. Which makes you give him a light smack on the back of his head.

For the next few weeks Aegon will occasionally wear his pretty clothes when you fuck him. Of course you make sure to call him pretty every time and kiss his forehead, the forehead kiss is required.

I also think maybe he starts to wearing them outside of sex too? Obviously he doesn’t walk around public like that but his chambers is a safe space where the only one who sees him like that is his darling wife.

[grogwrites]

Stranger - O.P. 81

Part Two

part one • part two • part three

Summary: When someone returns to Oscar’s life after years apart, he has a hard time finding common ground with her to reconcile the feud between them. That is, until she signs on as a driver for the upcoming F1 season. Then he can’t seem to get her out of his mind.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Female OC

CW: Dual POV series, but part two is all in OC’s POV. Please take my warnings seriously before continuing on. This series is not for everyone, as consistent depictions of mental health struggles are conveyed in the writing, primarily PTSD and loss of a loved one. Part two contains swearing, a shit ton of angst, mentions and depictions of PTSD and suicide, suggestive content/brief making out, alcohol consumption, Lando is a bit of a twat in this series, manipulation from OC—OC is a very complex and very hurt character so a lot of her behavior in this part is, erm, not great lol

A/N: this is part two in my three part mini series! Again, I do not use YN on my page so OC is a named character 🩵

Word Count: 5.1k

* DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the people in this fanfiction personally, these are all just the works of my imagination.

PRESENT DAY

She knew who he was. She had done some extensive research on the current grid, as well as the other rookies for next season so she knew what she was up against. This was how she’s always operated—this is how her dad taught her to compete. She clocked Lando’s weaknesses the second he began flirting with her. For starters, she knew he was self conscious. She had seen him speak out about it in his interviews, but when he began flashing this arrogant side of him, it was tell-tale that he was overcompensating for something that he was lacking in. His boat rocked on the water behind them, and her curiosity was piqued. As she perched her sepia-toned sunglasses on her head, she stared back at him intently.

“Lando Norris,” she smiled, playing in to his behavior. She made sure she raised her voice slightly, to hint at a flirtatious demeanor, “you’ve got a reputation, you know.” Lando smirked, folding his arms across his tan, toned chest. He was attractive, Claire could give him that much at least. He just wasn’t her type, unfortunately for him.

“Remind me again?” He responded with a scoff. He took a step closer to her, leaning in a bit.

“You sleep around,” Claire remarked. She tapped her finger against her chin, as if trying to remember the artificial list that she was referencing. “You don’t call back, you can’t be tied down…tell me why I should go with you?”

“Maybe I want you to be the one to change my reputation?” Lando lowered his voice. “Has anyone ever told you that pink looks really good on you?”

The laugh that escaped her mouth was accidental, but she could care less. This had to be a joke, she thought. He was too corny—too predictable. In a weird way, it was almost endearing how he thought he had her wrapped around his pathetic finger. He didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I’m afraid I won’t meet your expectations,” she sighed as her laughter slowed. “I’m looking for commitment, Norris. Not a plaything.” She watched his cheeks slowly turn red when she referred to him as a ‘plaything’. He cleared his throat, then straightened his posture.

“One date,” Lando proposed, clearly feeling confident in his chances. “If you are still convinced I’m not serious, then you can block me and never call me back.”

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. She smirked, then placed her sunglasses back on the bridge of her nose. Both of them were playing a game, but she was going to win. Losing wasn’t in her book—not now, not ever.

“Fine,” Claire sighed. “But it has to be a real date.”

“Wonderful,” he mimicked her flirtatious drawl from a few moments ago. “What is your name, darling?” Already starting with the pet names? He had no idea who he was about to get involved with. She offered her hand to him innocently.

“I’m Claire Nguyen,” she introduced, keeping her tone playful and airy. Her friends snickered behind her, but they knew how she worked—they knew she was playing him. Still, the driver took her hand in his, then pressed his lips to her knuckles. He pulled away, meeting her gaze again.

“It’s a pleasure,” his smug look was devastating.

Maybe if Claire had met him in high school, he would’ve had her in the palm of his hands. But she was different, now. Her heart was hardened, and her guard was up. Her dad dying was the tip of the iceberg, and leaving Oscar sunk the ship completely. She didn’t care what bridges she had to burn to accomplish her goals in life, and she didn’t care who she hurt to get there—because life hurt her. Life killed her. Sometimes she worried that she was a sociopath, but her therapist reassured her multiple times that she was simply just traumatized. It made her laugh the first time she was diagnosed with PTSD, but now that word felt like a weakness to her: trauma. All she had in this world was herself, now that the Piastri’s were nonexistent.

Claire’s gaze flickered back to the boat, before she looked to Lando again.

“So, are you going to invite me on board,” she tightened the hold on his hand gently, “or are you going to keep gawking at me?”

“You’re quite cheeky, aren’t you?” Lando chuckled, but there was a nervousness to his presentation now. Her plan was already working. She smiled, then looked back over her shoulders at her friends, Edith and Stacy—two girls she met when moving here to Monaco.

“See you back at the apartment?” She asked. The two girls exchanged a mischievous glance, then nodded. She wiggled her fingers goodbye to them, before Lando tugged her forward. As they approached the boat, he let go of her hand briefly to climb on board. He offered his hands to her, but she pushed him out of her way, before gracefully climbing on behind him. His cheeks flushed.

“I can let myself onto a boat,” she clicked her tongue, then eyed him head to toe. “I’m not helpless, you know.” He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly became a sputtering mess. He removed the hat on his head, running a hand through his curls.

“Um, my friend is here, too,” he finally managed to choke out. Claire found it quite amusing how his ‘cool guy’ persona faded rather fast. She watched him hesitate before walking around the driver’s seat towards the cushioned chairs at the front of the boat. She took her time lingering behind him, when she saw a familiar head of blonde hair off to her left—lounging with his eyes closed. Her blood ran cold at the sight of him.

For a few seconds, it felt like everything stopped around her. He looked…different. A good different, but it made her doubt for a moment if that was actually him in front of her. But it was. She’d recognize the speckled moles and freckled face anywhere. She felt her cheeks burn at the sight of his bare chest, and silently thanked God that her sunglasses were tinted. She felt frozen in place—like she couldn’t move or else the world would collapse below her.

“Hey,” Lando’s voice brought her back into reality. He reached forward, shaking Oscar’s leg gently. She saw, now, his eyes opening and looking directly up at her. His face went pale. Lando was seemingly unaware of the situation that was playing out as he continued speaking, “Oscar this is Claire, Claire this is Oscar.”

She quickly flashed her best fake smile as she extended a hand towards him. Push it down, Claire, she reminded herself, push it down with the rest of your emotions. If she allowed herself to be distracted by Oscar, then she would get knocked off her game. He always did that to her. While she knew the weaknesses of all the other drivers, her own weakness was going to be her competition next season—her weakness was Oscar Piastri.

“Hello,” Claire stated plainly. “It’s great to meet you, Oscar.” She made sure to draw out his name only slightly, just so he knew exactly where he stood with her. He had no place in her life anymore, and she wasn’t about to let him crawl his way back in. Oscar hesitated before taking her hand in his. His touch alone could’ve made her knees buckle underneath of her. They’ve held hands on multiple occasions before this, but this felt different. This time, it felt like she was in second grade again, racing remote controlled cars with him in his living room.

“Good to meet you as well, Claire,” he grumbled. When his hand lingered in hers, she made sure she was the first to drop his. Oscar quickly turned his attention to Lando. “Can we get back out on the water, now? I was taking a nap.” Claire drew in a shaky deep breath, praying her nerves weren’t obvious.

“I like that idea,” she commented. “I’ll drive.” As she began walking back to the driver’s seat, Lando grabbed ahold of her waist to stop her.

“Nice try,” he hummed in her ear. She felt the heat of his chest against her back, and his fingertips squeezing her sides gently. She felt the anger in her stomach begin to boil. “Why don’t you let a Formula 1 driver handle that?”

Subconsciously, she dug her elbow into his gut. He retaliated, coughing as the air was briefly knocked out of him. How degrading for him to speak to her like that. Claire faced him, folding her arms. The look in his eyes almost mimicked a lovesick, teenage boy—they were laced with disbelief in what she had just done, and admiration that she had the balls to do it in the first place.

“Someone doesn’t do their research,” she retorted, placing her hand on his cheek. “Lucky for you, a Formula 1 driver will be handling that.” His eyes widened as the gears in his head seemed to begin turning, putting the pieces together.

“You’re a Formula 1 driver?” Oscar was the first to speak as he stood from his chair. Claire was quick to remove her hand from Lando’s face at the sight of her old friend—as if she didn’t want him to see what she was doing. It didn’t matter if he did, and she knew that. They were nothing to each other, but yet she still craved his approval just as much as she did twelve years ago.

“Alpine, next season,” she stated simply, keeping her expression deadpanned as she looked back at him. “They saw me racing at a gig in Seoul—said I had potential, and offered a contract.” Lando laughed in amusement, as if he couldn’t fall more in love with her than the poor thing already was. She could see Oscar’s jaw tighten at the mention that she never quit racing. There was a heavy, unspoken tension between the two of them, so she shifted her gaze back to Lando.

“God, you’re cool,” he swooned. “I mean, minus elbowing me a few seconds ago…”

“Watch where you place your hands next time,” she scolded, pointing her finger at Lando like she was lecturing a child. “And watch what kind of assumptions you make. I told you earlier, I’m not helpless. You don’t know a single thing about me, Norris.”

Claire thought for a moment that she heard Oscar laugh, but that would be impossible. There was too much hatred between the two of them for him to find anything she said amusing. But as she turned to walk to the driver’s seat, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

.

When the second bottle of wine was being thrown away, Claire knew she needed to cut herself off and go to sleep. She’d been sitting on her apartment balcony for almost four hours, just staring…watching. The busyness of Monaco had now quieted down to a soft hum of the night, with the occasional car passing by below on the street.

She had imagined her reunion with Oscar on several occasions, but none of them involved flirting with his teammate in front of him. She groaned to herself, burying her face in her hands as she leaned against the railing. Her Aunt Mae had told her multiple times that the world would work to bring them back together. Mae was adamant about the idea of karma, but Claire wasn’t too sure. Really, she stopped believing in a lot of things after her dad died. Oscar never stopped believing in her, though. Except, maybe now was different. He looked through her today like she was a ghost of some kind.

There was a light knock on her door, pulling her out of her thoughts. She sighed before grabbing ahold of her wine glass and standing. She tightened the robe around her as she walked inside. When she got to the door, she glanced through the peephole. Lando. Claire took a deep breath before finishing off her drink. She continued to hold her robe closed as she opened the door. The Brit smiled sheepishly back at her, as though he was entertained that she answered. He wore some grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt that fit snug against his torso. She leaned against the doorframe, humming lightly.

“Hello,” he finally spoke. “Um, sorry for just stopping by like this. When I dropped you off earlier, I didn’t realize we lived in the same complex.” Claire was really too tipsy and too sad to try and maintain the composure that she held at the beach earlier. So instead, she settled with a smile.

“Don’t apologize,” she replied softly. “I don’t mind. What can I do for you?” Lando stuffed his hands into his pockets, as the corners of his mouth twitched slightly while he gathered his thoughts.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior today,” he explained slowly. Her eyes widened, not expecting this from him. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought. “I just, um, haven’t had a serious relationship in a while. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” Claire wasn’t entirely sure what to do or to say. She hesitated as she eventually stepped off to the side, silently inviting him in to her home.

She watched him closely as he walked inside. She shut the door behind him, as his gaze flickered around her living room. Claire kept things minimalistic, mostly because she couldn’t bother herself to turn anything into a home. She didn’t belong anywhere, and it had been that way since she left Melbourne. She often felt like a stray cat, just bouncing between homes—desperate for shelter, and barely staying alive. If she put decorations up anywhere, then it meant she was tied to that place. She couldn’t be tied down anywhere unless it was back in Melbourne, but she hadn’t healed enough to bring herself back there yet.

“I’m sorry for elbowing you,” she found herself admitting, even though she wasn’t that sorry. Her dad’s voice seemed to haunt her, though, any time she let her emotions get the best of her. It happened when she first met Oscar, too. She almost laughed at the thought, but she pushed it down just as she did with everything else. Lando turned to look at her, when he offered her a comforting smile. She felt her heart stutter, but it could’ve just been the wine.

“I deserved it,” he shrugged, making his way back towards her. “You do intimidate me, though.” She pressed her lips into a thin, tight line as she fought off a smile. She didn’t want to give him the justification, even if his comment was a bit funny.

“I get that a lot,” Claire confessed as she broke off to her right, towards the kitchen. Lando trailed behind. “My dad put me through anger management when I was in second grade. I just feel things very passionately. There isn’t any in-between for me.” She looked over to him again as she set her glass by the sink. She leaned against the counter as he stayed back, observing her.

“Do you, um, already know Oscar?” He asked quietly, as if he were treading on thin ice. He was unsure of the territory he had wandered in, and she saw it reflected in his eyes: careful, cautious…on edge; she was predator, and he was prey.

It was a loaded question that Claire didn’t know how to answer. She used to know Oscar, but now he was as much of a stranger to her as Lando was. She knew he had an entirely new life, but she refused to research him as intently as the other drivers. It just wasn’t something she wanted to venture into. She knew deep down that if she were to see what kind of life he was living without her in it, it would kill her.

“No,” she lied, shaking her head. “He just looked like somebody I used to know, is all.” Lando took a few steps closer. The silence was deafening in her apartment—nothing but the soft buzz of the streetlights outside.

The unfortunate thing for Claire, was that wine brought her guard down. Even though she wasn’t fully drunk yet, she could feel it slowly begin to trickle through her bloodstream. As Lando stood close to her, she felt her cheeks warm. No matter how flustered he was making her right now, he still wasn’t her type. He still wasn’t Oscar. The thought rang through her brain, pathetically reminding her of her long-time infatuation with him. Her heart ached slightly, while she turned her attention to her feet—away from Lando’s gaze.

“Claire?”

She knew seeing Oscar again—regardless of when or where or why or how it happened—would destroy her. He probably didn’t care, which pained her even more. The fact that he still held so much influence over her thoughts was comical. She wanted desperately to move on from him; she needed to force herself to move on.

Claire looked over to the boy next to her, whose eyes were laced with worry. He could tell something was wrong, but he wouldn’t ask. He didn’t think he could, and she preferred that he didn’t. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the reckless decision she was about to make. If she wanted to move on, then there was an opportunity standing just a few inches away from her.

She grabbed a fistful of Lando’s shirt, then pulled him down. She kissed him feverishly, and he wasted no time kissing her back. She could smell his soap still lingering on him—pine and eucalyptus. He brought one hand behind her neck, pulling her closer to him. Her mouth parted momentarily for a breath, when she felt Lando’s tongue lick her bottom lip. He moved his mouth against hers desperately, pleadingly. It was obvious between the two of them that this was nothing more than surface-level kissing. That was all she needed from him was a distraction, and he was happy to give it to her.

.

Seeing Lando became a regular occurrence for Claire, though they kept it as lowkey as they were able to—no idle chatter, no small talk. Just sex, nothing more. It wasn’t until she went over to his apartment one evening, and Oscar was the one who opened the door. Neither of them said anything, they just stared. Oscar glanced over his shoulder into his friend’s apartment before stepping into the hall with her, closing the door behind him. A few more seconds of silence passed between them, before he finally spoke.

“You’re racing again.”

A simple sentence that felt like a slap across the face. She wasn’t sure what to say in response to that, primarily because she was scared. She couldn’t tell if him making conversation was an olive branch, or pouring more salt into the wound. His tone was unwavering, making it hard to decipher his intentions.

“I never stopped,” Claire finally muttered. Oscar leaned against the door behind him. He was wearing a pair of black exercise shorts, accompanied by a matte black McLaren team shirt. She hated how good he looked—how nice the years have been to him. The silence met them again, but this time it was heavy with uncertainty. Neither one was sure where they stood with the other. It was maddening.

“Now, you’re sleeping with Lando,” he observed. She felt her stomach bubble with the same familiar anger she often felt. He had no right to judge her for this. “That’s a dangerous combination.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Osc…ar?” She was quick to correct her old habit of calling him by his nickname. She kicked herself mentally for the muscle memory. He smiled slightly, which only made the situation worse. “Oscar. I meant Oscar.” He raised his eyebrows slightly before sticking his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“You’re…” he trailed off at first. He licked his lips before finding his voice again, “you’re like fire and ice. You just don’t go together. You both deal so much damage individually, but together…I dunno.” He shrugged lightly. Claire rolled her eyes.

“In case you’ve forgotten, you don’t get to give me advice anymore,” she took a few steps closer to him. She tried to maintain her cool, but she felt like there was a storm inside of her right now. Being so close to him, she was hit with the smell of his old cologne: sandalwood, vanilla, home. It almost made her cry, as the feeling of nostalgia was quick to wash over her. “You have no influence over me.”

The second she said it, she knew he saw right through the lie. He only knew it was a lie, because he felt the same way. Thankfully for her, Oscar didn’t push the matter further. Instead, he opened the door to Lando’s apartment once more.

“It’s always good to see you, Bear,” he mumbled so softly that she almost missed it. He stared at her for a few seconds longer, then disappeared inside.

.

The bass that echoed over the club’s stereo pulsed through the building. Claire, Edith, and Stacy each sat at the bar, observing the crowd before them. Edith and Stacy were the closest thing to best friends that Claire had in her life anymore, but even then, it didn’t feel like she held a very deep connection with them. Any relationship she maintained after Oscar was surface level—she couldn’t keep people as close to her as he used to be. Maybe it was because somewhere deep in her heart, that was still reserved for him and him alone.

Still, the company the girls provided was nice. When Claire made the decision to use her inheritance to move to Monaco, she joined a women’s racing league. Edith and Stacy didn’t race, but they volunteered for the league from time to time. Their worlds collided when Claire punched some douchebag who had Edith cornered at the very bar they were in now. Even if they only kept her around for some form of security, she felt like with them, she could at least pretend her life was semi-normal.

“Soooo,” Stacy sang before taking a drink from whatever combination she decided upon for the night, “what’s up with Lando?”

“Nothing,” Claire told her factually. “Absolutely nothing. It’s nice, really. I don’t think being tied down right now is what’s best for me.” That last part was a lie. Partially, anyways.

“He’s, like, so hot,” Edith chimed in. “What’s going to happen next season, do you think?” Claire couldn’t help but scoff. She took a long drink from the vodka cranberry in her hands before she responded.

“I’m going to win,” it was a simple statement that she believed fully in her heart. “Alpine has some new sponsors. The car is going to be good—not great, really, but better than it has been. I plan to drive that shitbox to its grave.”

Her two friends began chatting about their predictions for the next season, as Claire grew bored. She turned her back to the bar, allowing herself a better view of the crowd dancing behind them. There were a few faces she recognized of other drivers that lived here. A bit strange that so many of them were here tonight, but she supposed it wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. Their summer break didn’t end until next week, so she figured a good lot of them hadn’t left yet for their other commitments.

Then, her eyes landed on Oscar, who was currently staring back at her. This seemed to be their luck of the draw—finding each other when they had no intention or desire of doing so. Even when they first met, they kept finding each other: the race tracks, Christmas at the Piastri’s, Oscar’s first break up, Claire’s first school dance…he was always there.

Her chest felt tight. If she kept meeting him like this, she knew it would more than likely send her into cardiac arrest. She took control of the current situation as she grabbed her drink, and excused herself from her friends. She could see it in his eyes that he thought she’d be coming over to him when she began walking, but instead, she turned left and made her way out of the exit that lead to the back alley of the bar.

When the door closed behind her, she pressed her back to the cold, brick exterior of the building. As she slid down to sit on the ground, she felt tears in the corners of her eyes. Hugging her knees to her chest, she pressed her forehead to them and cried. The emotions from the past few weeks had caught up to her, and she felt like she was drowning. There was a fog in her brain since seeing Oscar again, and she was unaware how much it was really affecting her until now. She didn’t remember hearing the door open beside her, until he sat next to her.

It was like some sick and twisted déjà vu. The last time they sat like this was at the funeral. Claire couldn’t decide how to react right now. Did she scream at him? Was she supposed to just walk away, and keep avoiding him? She heard him sniff quietly, and she knew he was crying, too. So they sat there in their respective silences, each crying and working through the unspoken, unresolved questions that lingered between them. After a few minutes, Oscar’s voice broke through the surface.

“No one stayed in that room after you left,” his voice was hoarse. “Mom wouldn’t even use it for storage. It’s been untouched since…” he trailed off, but Claire didn’t need him to finish. She knew what he was insinuating: the Piastri’s never moved on.

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Not yet, anyways. She didn’t have the words right now to properly communicate how she felt, because she felt so many things all at once. Hurt, anger, disappointment, heart break, love…so much love. But it was the type of yearning that often did more harm than good—the type that got Romeo killed. The type that got Gatsby shot. The type that left the other half broken, and the other half dead. Claire felt dead. She had been dead inside for so long now. How was one supposed to convey such complex feelings into words?

“She still asks about you,” Oscar continued, laughing pathetically—like the absurdity of it all was comical. It was, though. It almost made Claire relieved to know that Nicole still thought they were friends in some capacity; it meant Oscar never told her the truth. “She, um, has been collecting these little gifts for you in case you ever made it back to Australia—“

“Please,” Claire finally choked out through the tears, “I can’t hear anymore, Oscar. It hurts too much.”

He went quiet, obeying her request at first. She knew it hurt him too, but he wanted so desperately to make her feel better. Oscar Piastri: always selfless, always caring, always thinking of others. This time, however, he had no intentions of letting things go unspoken. He couldn’t take another three years without the closure, and neither could she.

“I missed you,” the words left his mouth before he could think. Claire could tell, because he came to a stuttering stop. He wasn’t usually a confrontational person, so the fact he kept talking in general surprised her. “I thought about you every day for a year. I watched you post things online, acting like I never even existed.”

Claire let him talk. She sat next to him listening, as the tears continued to fall down her cheeks. She knew he needed this as much as she did—he just had the words to say right now. She didn’t. Not yet.

“When you stopped returning my calls, it felt like another person I loved was gone,” his voice was now strained as he stopped holding back his own tears. “I was worried about you. I thought that maybe your mental health had caught up to you. You stopped posting, you stopped going online. I had to force myself to forget about you so I couldn’t face the truth that I had created.”

He thought she died. She didn’t need for him to explicitly say the words to understand what he was talking about. His concerns were valid, too. He always looked out for her when she got too deep into her own thoughts. So when he couldn’t do that anymore, he assumed the worst.

“I pushed everyone away,” Claire finally spoke. Her words were slow, calculated. She didn’t want to say anything that might ruin the civility they had right now. “I didn’t think I belonged anywhere when I had to go back to Seoul. I didn’t even want to go to Seoul.”

Her words carried weight with Oscar. She never really spoke to him about her feelings on moving in with her aunt—the only time they ever addressed her leaving was the night he won the F2 championship title. Her demeanor towards it all that night told him that she didn’t care, but she did. God, she cared so much. She spent several weeks leading up to her departure arguing with her aunt about staying in Melbourne, but her dad’s will passed her on to Mae. By the time Claire was legally able to leave on her own accord, they weren’t friends anymore.

“I fought tooth and nail to stay with you,” she continued, finally gaining the courage to look at him. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, but her’s were probably not any better. “When it was unavoidable, I just…pushed everyone away. It already felt like everything I loved was taken from me; pushing people away was easier to deal with it all.”

Oscar couldn’t take it anymore. He brought her into an embrace so quickly that she couldn’t process it at first. After a few moments, she returned the hug, wrapping her arms around him in return. They sat like that for what felt like hours, but neither of them cared. By the time they eventually left, no other word was muttered between them. There was so much more that the other could say, but for now they were content. For now, it felt like maybe—just maybe—they would be okay.

.

* None of my writing is available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

©️ grogwrites, 2024

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