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coryndoll · 1 day ago

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in which you’re a rising music star who navigates playful tension with actor drew starkey, and your flirtation turns into something deeper amid a viral music video and your grammy win.

content: diff style writing, drew being cute n following readers lead for the mv

authors note: will lowkey write a part 2 and/or the music video version of this if requested but idk, hopefully it was kinda understandable!! i just wanted the pov as if u were watching the yt video for the behind the scenes footage omg

you’ve known of drew starkey—how could you not? he’s a rising star, a name that keeps getting bigger, a face that’s starting to dominate everyone’s celebrity crush list whenever you scroll through tiktok. the kind of guy that gets cast in fan-favorite shows, whose off-screen personality makes people love him even more. charming, funny, effortlessly likable. he’s everywhere.

but what you couldn’t have imagined is that he knew of you first.

it started small, almost too subtle to notice. a clip of him in an interview, sitting back in his chair, nodding as he listens to a question before casually mentioning that he had just discovered a new artist, you, and couldn’t stop listening. he called your music addictive, something about the way you write lyrics just clicked with him. maybe it would’ve gone unnoticed if he hadn’t mentioned it again.

a month later, another interview, another confession. a different setting, a different outfit, but the same topic. only this time, the interviewer caught onto it.

“seems like you’re a fan.”

drew, red in the face, grinning but flustered, just said, “yeah. yeah, i am.”

he didn’t say much else, but he didn’t have to. the internet picked up on the pattern. his name was suddenly linked to yours, your fans and his fans overlapping, people tweeting at you to collab when?, digging through every interview and live stream to see if he’d mention you again. edits of him set to your songs started appearing on every social media feed. some even made it look like you were the leads in some slow-burn romance movie, just from your music videos and his show clips.

and you? you didn’t think much of it. it was flattering, sure. entertaining, even. but you’d never spoken, never met, never had a reason to. it was just one of those internet things, something people liked to fantasize about but wasn’t real.

until about a year ago.

red carpet event, flashing cameras, voices shouting your name. you were mid-step, smiling for a picture when an interviewer stopped you, microphone extended.

“if you win tonight, who’s getting the first thank-you?”

you barely thought about it. “oh, obviously. my parents, my team, everyone who worked on the album . . .” a pause, a flicker of mischief as the words slipped out. “and drew starkey!”

then you scurried off, leaving the interviewer blinking after you. you didn’t look back, but you knew exactly what you’d just done. by the time you got home, twitter had already lost its mind.

so with all that history, all those years of almosts, how could you not end 2024 and start 2025 with a steamy, intimate music video starring your one and only secret admirer?

the behind-the-scenes video you upload to youtube starts with a simple title card—bts: filming my new music video with bae—before fading into a clip of you on set, bundled up in a puffer jacket, arms wide as you greet drew with an easy, “hi!”

it’s the first time meeting him in person. you’ve known of him, obviously, but standing here now, seeing the way his face lights up at the sight of you, it’s different. the camera catches his initial reaction. he smiles wide, like he’s trying to keep himself from grinning too hard, nodding like he’s trying to play it cool. you hug, brief but natural, before the video cuts to your interview.

you’re curled up in your seat, dressed down in sweats, looking entirely comfortable in front of the camera like you’ve done this a hundred times before. one leg is crossed over the other, your head rests against your palm, and the other hand is tucked between your thighs, playing absentmindedly with the fabric of your hoodie. you’re practically beaming as you talk.

“he’s cute. but no, getting drew to agree to the video was no problem,” you admit, a small laugh slipping through. “it just made sense. everybody on twitter and everybody on tiktok can calm down now.”

you grin at the camera before adding, “plus, my mom loved his last movie.”

your friend behind the camera immediately jumps in, amused. “did she?”

you snicker, nodding your head like the answer is obvious. you don’t even need to say anything. your smile says it all.

cut to: on set at night.

you stand close to drew, explaining your vision, the two of you tucked into a quiet corner of the closed-off street. it’s late. you’re talking, hands moving as you try to get the words out just right, and drew listens intently, nodding along, before huffing out a laugh at something you say.

the next shot is of you in position, standing just outside the entrance of a nightclub. the scene is meant to be electric, with the music pounding inside, the city buzzing around you. you refilm the shot a few times, stepping out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk, pausing just as drew and ‘his group of friends’ step onto the curb from their car. the camera zooms in on your expression, catching the exact moment your character notices him.

you give him a look, one of intrigue, curiosity, a silent pull that makes drew’s character do a double take as he follows his friends inside. but as you turn and walk away, he hesitates. his friends don’t notice, but the audience is supposed to.

although the music is supposed to cut through, they’ll be able to see him say the words, “wait up for me, i’ll catch up.”

he stays behind. he follows you.

the cameras catch him walking past the frame, but in the behind-the-scenes footage, you’re already waiting for him off-camera. you’re standing just around the corner, out of sight, and the second he’s done with his take, he breaks into a grin, beaming as he jogs over to you.

“was that good?” he asks, a little breathless, still caught in the rush of the scene.

and off-camera, you laugh.

the next shot starts with a handheld camera capturing you inside a dimly lit bar, the neon glow from the signs reflecting off the polished counter. you’re perched on a stool, fingers curled around a glass, not drinking, just holding it for the scene, your expression unreadable as the camera focuses on you. the shot lasts for only a moment before it abruptly cuts away.

to: drew’s micro interview.

he’s leaned back in his chair, relaxed, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes, something playful lurking beneath his words. “she made me flustered super easily, yeah,” he confesses, mouth curving into a smirk as he glances off-camera toward your friend conducting the interviews. “she just has that effect to her.”

to: the first night scene.

this time, the energy is entirely different. the camera moves with purpose, following drew as he catches up to you, his hand grasping your arm, tugging you into another alleyway. the moment is fast, urgent, his body pressing yours up against the cool brick wall, his lips finding yours without hesitation.

the camera doesn’t linger on the kiss itself. instead, it captures the details, like the way drew’s fingers tighten around the fabric of your clothes, the way your hand slips into the back of his hair, curling at the nape of his neck. the shot pans downward, exposing the closeness between your bodies, the breathlessness of it all, before the scene suddenly fades.

you’re sitting up straighter this time in your interview immediately after the clip, legs crossed, hands in your lap, but there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes. your tongue presses against your top teeth as you chuckle, fully aware of what you’ve just filmed. you don’t say much, but the knowing look on your face says enough.

the final shot of this segment shows you and drew after the director calls cut, the tension immediately breaking as laughter spills between you. you pull away first, eyes bright as you turn toward the monitors, eager to check the footage.

drew, still lingering in place, rubs his bottom lip with his thumb, watching you for a beat before finally trailing after you, taking his time.

the next shot follows your character, leading drew by the hand, weaving through the streetlights, your destination clear in your mind, and you toss him the car keys without hesitation. drew catches them, glancing between you and the keys in his hand, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. the trust is unexpected, almost daring. but after a brief hesitation, he gives in, climbing into the driver’s seat while you swing into the passenger side, watching him with a smirk.

the screen quickly shifts to behind-the-scenes footage—handheld, slightly shaky, like a friend capturing the moment on their phone. you lean halfway out of the car window, hair tousled from the wind. your voice is light, playful, as you drag out the words dramatically, “we’ve been filming for the last six hours! i wanna go home.”

you make a face at the camera, and off-screen laughter follows. just as the camera pans back toward the car, drew reappears, slipping into the driver’s seat after what was clearly a break. he clocks the camera almost immediately, smiling as he watches you slide back inside, adjusting in your seat like you’re preparing for another take.

to: the car scene.

you're in the passenger seat, lip-syncing the lyrics, the camera catching you. your expression shifts between something teasing and something more heated, fingers toying with the hem of your dress as drew grips the wheel beside you.

then, another interview clip overlays the scene. you sit comfortably, your grin almost mischievous as you speak, “i wanted this music video to be very, very horny. like, so horny but also so fun, and freeing too.”

you pause, laughing as you push your hair back, “i really wanted to capture that feeling of instant attraction. like, that moment when you lock eyes with someone across the room and just know something’s about to happen. the whole video is about chasing that rush, that tension of being drawn to someone you shouldn’t want but not being able to stop yourself.”

“so, yeah. i wanted it to feel intense, a little dangerous, a little intoxicating . . . like a night you’ll never forget, even if it only lasts ‘til sunrise.”

it cuts to a different segment of the micro interview. you’re sitting casually, your thumb nail between your teeth as you listen to your friend. the vibe is lighthearted, almost too laid-back, until your friend says, “you should call him if you win that grammy.”

you freeze for a second, eyes widening slightly, then burst out laughing. sitting up straighter, you give her a look, almost like she’s lost their mind, “are you serious?”

the final shot in the behind-the-scenes video captures you dramatically collapsing onto the mock-bedroom set, letting out an exaggerated groan as you flop onto the bed, completely wiped from weeks of filming. you’re on your back, hair splayed out around you like a halo, eyes half-closed as the exhaustion hits you full force.

drew, on the other hand, leans back against the headboard, legs sprawled out casually as if he could take on another round of filming, but still, his hand reaches out, and you take it without hesitation. your hands clasp in a silent victory, both of you relishing in the fact that you’ve wrapped up the last take of the day.

“is that it?” you ask, glancing at the crew who are already packing up, and when they confirm it, a smile breaks across your face. you raise a fist in the air, a mock victory pose, causing a few of the crew members to chuckle behind the camera.

the camera cuts back to you, but just a few minutes later, still lounging on the bed with drew, who’s now looking at you with that signature grin of his. you sit up, stretching your arms over your head, and your voice is light as you ask, “was that fun?” you’re genuinely checking in, making sure drew’s feeling good after all the intense shots.

drew pauses for a beat, then lets out a little laugh, clearly still feeling the buzz from the shoot. “i had . . . a blast,” he says, but there’s something about the way he says it, maybe it’s the glint in his eyes or the slight inflection in his voice, that makes you burst out laughing.

you start to get up from the bed, your laugh still lingering in the air as you move out of the frame. the camera stays on drew as he watches you go, looking like he’s still processing the day. just as you move out of view, someone walks in from the side to start cleaning up the set, but drew doesn’t miss a beat.

“i’m being so honest right now, dude,” he says, his grin turning playful, and you hear the laughter behind the camera as they capture this moment.

after the music video shoot wraps, you and drew keep in touch. with the release of the video just around the corner, your team suggests posting a teaser to build hype on social media. it’s the perfect opportunity, so you agree.

another mini shoot is set up for the teaser. drew and his team arrive, and even though this shoot is way more relaxed than the last one, the excitement is still palpable. you’re going to film a short, tantalizing snippet.

the plan is for the camera to follow your feet clicking against the floor as you walk down a hallway, but your face won’t be seen. you stop in front of a door and knock before the cameras on you now.

the moment the door opens, your smile is real as you grab his hand. you pull him with you down the hall, and the camera focuses on the back of his head, leaving fans to wonder who he is. as you pass the wall, the words of the song title come to life to tease which song its for.

as soon as the video drops, the internet blows up. fans can’t stop guessing who your mystery man is.

‘ its drew isnt it ’

‘ PLEASE TELL ME THATS WHO I RHKNK IT IS ’

‘ y/n y/l/n u did NOT. ’

others speculate wildly, throwing out all kinds of guesses. you both meet up to hang out during the lead-up to your album release, laughing about the crazy theories online. some fans are dead sure it’s him, while others debate who it could be. the excitement only grows, and you secretly enjoy the fun of keeping them guessing.

but everything falls into place when you win that grammy. it’s the culmination of everything you’ve worked so hard for, and as the announcement echoes through the room, you’re overwhelmed with emotions. you honestly didn’t expect this, especially as a first-timer. they are hard to come by, and you’re honestly convinced this is going to be your one and only.

the wave of emotion hits you as you hug your loved ones, the tears welling up in your eyes. you quickly pat under your eyes with your fingers, trying to compose yourself as you walk toward the stage. all eyes are on you, and the spotlight is so bright you almost can’t bear to look directly at it.

you hold the grammy in your hands, trying to keep your composure as you deliver the half-planned speech you’d scribbled down earlier. it’s all so surreal.

“god, i actually thought i was about to pass out when they said my name,” you admit, and the audience of familiar faces laughs.

“i just can’t believe i’m standing here right now, receiving this. i have poured my heart into this album, into my music, and i never imagined it would lead me here. to my team and family, you’re the reason this dream is even possible. to my fans, thank you for making this journey so worth it. this award is for us. i love you all, and i’ll keep making music as long as you’ll keep listening. thank you all so much.”

eventually you’re off the stage and sitting at your table, still processing everything that's just happened. there are few who still congratulate you from their seats around you. your friend, sitting beside you, gives you a look, the kind that says it all. you know what to do.

you hesitate. was she serious about what she said before about if you won? you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the pull of it. you grab your phone and turn it on briefly, waiting for an appropriate moment. your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a moment before you type out the message to drew:

hey. can i call u tonight?

a/n: such an abrupt ending LOL but i have to cut it off here bc i have my first day of my new class tmr n im supposed to get up in 2 hours 💔 ILL REWRITE THIS OR DO A PART 2 IF I REREAD THIS LATER N NOT LIKE IT

#coryndoll #drew #drew starkey #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fic #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew smut #drew x you #drew blurb #drew fic #drew imagine #drew fanfiction #drew fanfic

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blessedbycoyotes · 16 hours ago

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On a moonless night, a stargazer traveling far afield made his way into a section of woods that was uninhabited for reasons known to the locals but not known to him. A familiar thought came to his mind as he walked: Some truths can be found in separation from others. Such is my craft. It was both true and a rationalization of his loneliness, he knew, but as he grew older, he found it harder and harder to become un-separated from the others. He and they had become too different.

Quietly, the stargazer began his work. From the forest’s edge, peeking from side to side, he walked toward the dead center of a clearing. Kneeling, slowly and aware of every rustle of grass, he set down his pack. Pencils and paper and glassware were set and arranged by feel alone on a leather pad he rolled out beside him.

The stargazer sat ram-rod straight and allowed himself a moment to breathe. He picked up his sextant so slowly as to not make one sound. Just as his eyelash was about to graze the glass –

Fwhumpf.

The stargazer and his lungs froze. He had never encountered something truly terrible from a noise in the night, but he was for some reason or other not inclined to test that theory.

Fwhumpf.

The spell broke. He rose to his feet as fast as possible, dropping the sextant onto his pad, and whipped around, straining his eyes for any sign of any thing.

Fwhumpf.

“Hello,” rumbled the dragon, only shaped by its silhouette of the stars behind.

The stargazer, to his credit, did not panic, despite the tension in his head. “Hello,” he said.

“Are you an astronomer?” it asked. Only now did the stargazer realize that he could see its eyes, which barely reflected what little ambient light was there.

“In a sense,” the stargazer replied in a tone usually meant for well-meaning strangers he did not want to talk to. “I am not a professional, if that is what you mean.”

“No matter if you do it for coin, I think.”

The dragon’s voice was gentle, but not for a lack of ability; its voice was more felt than heard, and it was clearly struggling in trying to push just enough air to move its massive vocal cords but not enough to disturb what little peace remained in the clearing.

It spoke again. “Do you watch the stars or not?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Would you like to watch together? I came out here to do the very same thing.”

The stargazer did not parse those words for a full ten seconds, stunned as he was by such an unexpected question. His mind then ran in circles, calculating risks and paths of potential escape and his odds of outrunning an animal he knew nothing about and oh to hell with it, he thought, nothing interesting ever came of running anyway.

“Very well.”

The dragon looked him in the eyes for a brief moment, before turning slightly away and tipping onto its side with all the grace of a felled tree. It squirmed, disturbing much grass, before it managed to lie on its back, facing the stars.

The stargazer laid beside it.

“Anything good tonight?” the dragon asked.

“Aye. Meteor shower, Orionids. A comet’s trail.”

“Excellent,” it purred, “I almost forgot it this year.”

The stargazer got the impression that the dragon was smiling, but could not make out anything of the dragon’s expression and would not trust himself to predict the emotions of a beast he was unfamiliar with.

“I am impressed tonight. Not often I get to see this much dust,” it said, slowly.

“Indeed,” the stargazer stated flatly. “It’s why I’m here.”

He traced Gemini with two of his fingers. Lucky stars.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“To stargaze. Good meadow for it.”

“I mean - Do you live here?”

“Nearby.”

“Why?”

It rumbled. Do dragons laugh? “As opposed to what? Living near humans? That chance is gone now.”

“Now?” the stargazer asked again. “Did you live with humans once?”

“Decades ago, yes.”

“How?”

“I was one back then.”

The stargazer, incredulous, looked at nothing and furrowed his brow. “You used to be human?”

The dragon nodded. The stargazer did not see the motion, but that did little to stop his questioning.

“Were you cursed?”

“No. I chose this.”

“Chose?”

The dragon finally turned to face him. “You are alone too, are you not?” it asked back. “You shed your humanity by severing your connections with them. I have merely taken it a step further.”

The stargazer did not reply for a beat. He did not expect to be seen by a stranger. “Do you not miss company?”

“I do.”

“Then why become a dragon? Why stay here in perpetuity?”

“Some truths can be found in separation from others.”

Silently, the dragon turned its massive head to the sky.

“I was never a good human. Yes, I had scaleless skin, and I walked on two legs, but all the rest did not come to me naturally,” it growled. “Have you ever been in a play?”

“No.”

The dragon stared past the heavens as it began again. “Imagine you are suddenly thrust into one. We are short a man today, the troupe says, and pushes you onstage. You don’t know the lines. You don’t know how to mimic characters, or emotions, or even the fellow next to you. And so, you flounder, bouncing from stage left to right, actors pushing you around and whispering instructions in your ear that you cannot follow.”

“Sounds like a mess.”

“It was.”

“So,” the stargazer turned to look where the dragon’s eyes caught the starlight, “you chose to leave the stage.”

The dragon did not face him.

“Do you think it was it the right choice?”

Against the backdrop of stars, he saw the dragon’s brow raise ever so slightly; he saw it breathe ever so slowly.

“To this day, I am not sure. I do not know if I am happier out here, slowly becoming a legend of these woods, alone. But I can tell you this; dragonhood is much truer to me than my former life ever was. This body, this separate mode of being,” it sighed, “it feels like what I was made for. As if I were cast in the wrong mold the first time around.”

A sudden pain grabbed the stargazer’s chest.

“Why do you choose to be alone, astronomer?”

He struggled to form sentences until a moment had gone. Then, quietly, “The more I think, the more time passes, the more my thoughts differ from most people’s. The more I do not see myself in them. Their priorities, their methods… they seem alien to me nowadays.”

A sharp breath.

“Like I wasn’t one of them after all.”

The dragon turned back to the stargazer and held his eye until it saw something new.

“Would you like to stargaze with me again, sometime?”

“Yes,” he said, “I think I would.”

too many stories about turning yourself into a monster as a metaphor for pretending to be something you aren't and losing yourself in the process. not enough stories about turning yourself into a monster as a metaphor for choosing to openly embrace yourself even if it's strange to other people

#mine own #short story #dragons #therian #was hesitant to post this but fuck it. we ball

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grvait · 1 day ago

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more old art!! featuring theo and my human harley fan design!! RUN THEODORE RUN (he's cooked)

im gonna talk about chapter 4 under here so only click if ur ok with spoilers! also its a huge yapfest. like HUUGE. i just want to voice my opinions about prototype because i've seen ppl sort of miss the point of what happened at the end of the chapter

I LOVED CHAPTER 4! IT WAS SO COOL!! i was sooo worried but im glad it turned out good. rip pianosaurus tho..

tldr (for the bunch of paragraphs where I talk abt prototype)

prototype being ollie is deranged because it means he was terrorizing the toys of safe haven on purpose for the fun of it when he could have killed them at any time. he also created an extremely close emotional bond with poppy for OVER A DECADE just to tear it all away from her at the end and tell her it was meaningless (he then proceeds to taunt her over the phone abt it). bro is LITERALLY TROLLING

you cant tell me that final scene w the "ive got something special in mind. i prepared it just for you, and this time you'll never want to leave." isnt some tom and jerry shit

ABT PROTOTYPE REVEALING HIMSELF AS OLLIE... (the long explanation)

we ALL knew he was ollie, but i don't think people are seeing the point of this reveal. it wasn't about revealing himself to us the player, it's about the implications that arise from it. he had been playing both sides for 10+ YEARS. that's deranged enough but not even CLOSE to the end of it

as ollie he had emotionally supported poppy in her lowest moments (as heard in the ollie and poppy tape). this tape also insinuates that (at least around the time it was recorded) the two of them called frequently, possibly every night. he wasn't just pretending to be everyone's ally, he was PRETENDING TO BE THEIR CLOSEST FRIEND THAT THEY COULD VENT TO 😭 he heard this poor girl sob into the phone and tell him about how she felt her humanity being taken from her, AND HE KEPT UP THE CHARADE AND COMFORTED HER, KNOWING THIS PATH HAD BAD INTENTIONS

what's worse than all of that, though, is that him being ollie means that at any time in the last 10 years he could have used the persona to force his way into safe haven. AT ANY TIME HE COULD HAVE KILLED THEM ALL. HE COULD SIMPLY USE THE OLLIE VOICE AND ASK THEM TO OPEN THE DOOR. why is this worse, you ask? because HE WAS LITERALLY TERRORIZING THEM ON PURPOSE.

think about the note in the cart/cave area. a toy from safe haven writes that prototype was right outside the door the night before, he'd gotten past the traps and was just tapping on the wall and staring. they said after he was gone they still felt they could hear it. HE IS LITERALLY BEING SCARY ON PURPOSE???? LEGIT TRAUMATIZING THEM AND FOR NO REASON. HE COULD GET IN THERE, HE'S SIMPLY CHOOSING TO MAKE THEIR LIVES HELL

so thats crazy.. BUT ALSO THE ENDING? in the poppy and ollie tape he says "im right here, poppy. for you. i'll always be here." AND AT THE END OF THE GAME, WHEN POPPY ASKS WHAT HE DID WITH OLLIE, HE SAYS THAT. you know what that means? that means he said that shit to her ALL THE TIME. clearly only the two of them would be familiar with the phrase which is why after he said it, she immediately knew he was ollie the whole time

i feel bad for poppy. she ran off but she was valid for that. all her friends from safe haven are dead, the only ones left are the player, kissy and ollie, but she soon realizes that ollie is WORSE than dead. he is LITERALLY HER ENEMY. the thousands of conversations they had, probably hundreds of times she vented and told him her plans and discussed her life with him? ALL FOR NOTHING. any time she thought she was winning the past 10 years was a lie, she was ALWAYS LOSING because he was GETTING ALL THE INFO FROM THEM. she genuinely never had a chance and i think she realized that

in her dialogue you can tell she's grieving ollie (obviously he IS prototype, but i think she's grieving the thought of him). saying "you lied to me" to the prototype of all people is absurd (considering he's done far worse than lie) but when you think about how she feels, it makes sense.

also the part where she said "this isn't right". again, a weird thing to say to him of all people, but if you put yourself in her shoes she's grieving the friend she thought she had, and she's struggling to grapple with the fact that it all meant nothing. somewhere in her mind she believes "ollie" as a personality is there somewhere, because how could someone be that close with you and mean none of it? she thinks that voicing this pain he's inflicted will change his mind, but it won't. and that's why it's genuinely really sad. that's why she asks if there was ever an ollie. i don't think she meant it literally, and i don't think his answer was literal either. she didn't mean "were you a mf named ollie once" she meant it like "was our friendship ever genuine?" which makes his response both heartbreaking and interesting.

so not only is her world shattered now, most of her friends are dead and the one who wasn't turned out to be her opp, but now he's TAUNTING HER OVER THE PHONE AND THREATENING HER. nice one... (loved the quip after she ran off btw. that shit was hilarious. like bro u made her crash out and went "some friend, huh?" YOU CANT SAY THAT BRO)

anyway think of it from her perspective: everyone you knew is gone, and soon the only 2 people that remain will be too. you can't run, or hide, or do anything. he WILL find you, and when he does he'll lock you away FOREVER where NOBODY WILL BE LEFT TO SAVE YOU. I WOULD RUN TOO.............. plus her running off probably led him away so.. she saved us sorta.

ALL THAT TO SAY THAT I REALLY LIKE THE OLLIE REVEAL FOR REASONS FAR BEYOND A SIMPLE TWIST. him being ollie for over a decade raises many many questions, and suggests very dark things.

hes crazy and the fact he did a monologue means he knows he won. he wouldn't have spilled the beans otherwise...

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joemama-2 · 2 days ago

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"are you the fairy?"

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: You meet Gojo Satoru in a place untouched by time, where his laughter rings through empty streets and his hands chase yours like a promise he fully intends to keep. He is younger, reckless with his love, blind to the weight of the years that separate you—years that have taught you that love is not always meant to be kept. You let yourself have him anyway, knowing all the while that his future is stretching toward a horizon you cannot follow. When the time comes, you do what must be done—let him free.

wc: 7.3k

tags/warnings: angst, eventual comfort, suggestive content, older! reader, dividers by @/cafekitsune, HOPEFULLY PROOFREAD ENOUGH :(

Aging. A fear most people have. The fear of growing old, growing weaker, needing others to rely on for simple tasks, no longer being in your ‘prime’, and of course—the grey hairs. While it can be argued that aging is a natural, human process; it can also be argued that no one ever really wants to grow old. No one wants to see everything they knew and loved vanish before their own two deteriorating eyes, no one wants to become just a distant memory. But no one wants to be immortal either. It’s a weird push and pull, leaving humans with only one choice: enjoy it while it lasts, and make the most of your life.

And so, that’s what you have been doing.

Graduating, getting a nice paying job, having a good place, traveling the world, making a name for yourself, being…happy. Sure, you’ve made friends and connections, but none of those amount to being in the peaceful solitude of your lonesome. You’ve faced adversaries in your life, and you’ve overcome them—that’s what making the most out of your life means. But you know what doesn’t fall under that category?

Allowing yourself to fall in love with a man almost two decades younger than you.

But with life comes spontaneous events, debating the pros and cons and wondering the ‘what ifs’.

And what if—against all logic, against every carefully laid plan—you let yourself have him? What if you ignore the whispers in your mind that warn of fleeting youth, of inevitable goodbyes, of the cruel march of time that will leave you grasping at something you were never meant to keep? Gojo Satoru is reckless in his affection, undeterred by the years between you, pressing himself into your life with an audacity that makes it impossible to push him away. He tells you that love doesn’t care for numbers, that age is nothing more than an arbitrary construct, and when he looks at you with that unwavering gaze, you almost believe him.

Almost.

You’re forty-five when you meet him, he’s nothing but a young and adventurous thirty-year-old. You remember being thirty.

“Are you from here?” you asked, resting your palm against your cheek. The coldness of the bar’s countertop sits underneath your elbow—you regard him with a curious gaze. The first thing you noticed was the pretty eyes he had. The next was his smile—that handsome smile that was doing weird things to your heart. You remember your late husband smiling at you like that every day, every chance he got. Your lip quirks up.

“No, I’m from Japan,” he replies smoothly, jutting his chin in your direction. “And you?”

You tell him.

“Oh, that’s nice. So, what are you doing all the way here?”

“Vacation.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Pretty well. Italy is beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you.”

A cheesy pick-up line you’re more than accustomed to. You save his awkwardness with a small laugh, eyebrow raising. “Thank you,” you glance down at the dark liquid in your cup, swirling its contents. “Though you aren’t the first to tell me that.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick with the weight of history you’ve long since buried. It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? To be flattered but not fooled, to hear compliments that once would have made your heart race but now only bring a faint ache, like a ghost brushing past your skin. You didn’t expect to be here, sitting in this foreign bar, in this foreign city, drinking away the remnants of a life you thought you’d left behind—no more waiting for a man to come home, no more running on borrowed time. And yet, here he is, his smile still holding the weight of something undeniably fresh, something he hasn’t yet had time to tarnish with the passing years.

He chuckles, and it’s sincere. Like he knows how to handle this situation and like he’s done it a hundred times before—charming the older woman, never realizing the danger he’s flirting with. You can’t help but notice how easily he fits into this moment, how the energy between you feels almost too comfortable for something so unexpected. His youth, his vitality—it’s intoxicating, and yet, you know it’s only a matter of time before you have to draw the line, to remind yourself that he’s playing with something far more fragile than he understands.

You meet his eyes again, and for a second, you let yourself indulge. He’s not just handsome; he’s magnetic. And though you’ve seen his type before—young, reckless, full of life—there’s something different about him. It’s that smile, that easy confidence as if the world is nothing but a playground for him to conquer. Your heart stirs involuntarily, the edges of something you thought was long gone starting to flutter back to life.

"So, do you always travel alone?" you ask, your voice a little softer now, more curious than before.

His grin widens, pleased by the shift in your tone. “Not usually, but this time I decided to take some time for myself. I needed a change of scenery.” He leans in a little, dropping his voice to something almost conspiratorial. "It's nice to get away from it all, you know? To meet people who don't know your story."

The irony of his words doesn’t escape you. Here you are, a stranger in a new city, with a lifetime of stories you no longer tell, and yet, his openness makes you feel like you’re both speaking the same unspoken language. You could tell him everything, share the years of love and loss, of heartache and healing, but you don’t. You keep it hidden, tucked away where only time and memory can touch it.

“That sounds familiar,” you say quietly, glancing down at your glass again. Your fingers trace the rim absently. “Sometimes it's the only way to find peace." You don’t know why you’re telling him this. It’s not as though you’ve shared your soul with a stranger in a bar before. But there’s something about the way he looks at you, something open and unafraid, that makes you think—just for a moment—that maybe this conversation, this meeting, isn’t entirely by chance. Something you haven’t felt in…a long time.

“Do you usually travel alone?”

You hum. “I do now.”

“Why now?”

“Because my husband doesn’t come along with me anymore.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” He sips from his own cup, but when he puts it back down, its fizziness tells you it’s just coke.

You take a moment to reply, unsure if you should trauma dump on a stranger. But he did ask. “Because he’s dead,” you simply comment, leaning back in your stool and gauging his reaction.

But he doesn’t show a face of surprise or a face of regret. He doesn’t offer his unwanted apology. He nods, humming softly in thought. But his eyes change—and you think for a second that it looks like a silent sense of understanding—like he’s lost someone too before. “And what was his name?”

Your cheeks pinch up, smile widening in fondness. Looking down at your left hand that once housed a beautiful, golden ring. “Masamichi.”

There’s a stillness in the air for a second, the kind that doesn’t feel heavy but rather reverent, as if time itself paused to acknowledge the weight of your words. You look at him through the corner of your eye, seeing how his gaze softens—not with pity, but with something deeper, something far more intimate. It’s the kind of understanding that doesn’t come from words, but from shared experiences, and you’re struck by the thought that perhaps, in some quiet corner of his heart, he knows what it’s like to lose the love of your life.

He doesn’t speak for a while, but there’s something in the way he leans forward that tells you he’s listening in a way that feels different than the usual casual conversations you’ve had with strangers. His eyes are fixed on you, almost as though he’s waiting for you to continue, to say something more, but he doesn’t push. He waits—patiently, and respectfully. "Masamichi," he repeats the name softly, as if he’s testing it on his tongue as if it’s a secret he’s now been entrusted with. “That’s a really cool name, sounds like he was a hardass.”

You chuckle lightly and nod, not trusting yourself to speak again for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat. “He was, but he had his moments.”

“When were those?”

“When he’d call me pretty names.”

“Like?”

You bite your lip, smile wavering a bit as you recount ever beautiful name he used to call you. One always stuck out. “Well, he used to call me a fairy.”

He chuffs. “Why a fairy?”

"He told me I was delicate, elusive, like something too beautiful to be real. He used to say I’d flown in from some distant place, where the sky was always clear and the air was always fresh." The words feel like they’ve drifted in from a different lifetime, a time when love was a constant companion, not a faint, distant echo. You tilt your head, the corners of your mouth turning up. "I think he liked that idea, that I wasn’t tied down to anything—just... floating through life, free. He said I made him believe in things he never thought possible."

His gaze softens as he watches you, leaning a little closer now as if drawn into the quiet weight of your story. "That’s beautiful," he says, his voice low, almost reverent. "It sounds like he saw you in a way no one else could."

You nod, the memory of his warm words filling the space between you. "He did. And sometimes... sometimes I felt like I was a fairy, too. Like I didn’t really belong to this world. But when he called me that, it made me feel like I was meant to be somewhere, meant to be his." A quiet moment hangs between you, the air heavy with the soft intimacy of shared vulnerability. You meet his eyes, feeling an unexpected connection—the kind of unspoken understanding that can only exist between people who have known the depths of love and loss.

Then, just as you’re about to pull back, he asks, with a gentle curiosity, “Do you still believe in fairies?”

You blink at him, a little taken aback. The question seems simple enough. You shrug, half in amusement, half in disbelief. "I don't know if I believe in them, but... I like to think that maybe they’re real, in some way. In the things we can’t see, in the moments that take our breath away."

His eyes seem to light up, almost as if he’s surprised by your answer. There’s a long beat of silence before his lips curl into a smile that reaches his eyes. "Maybe you’re still a fairy, then," he says, voice warm with something like wonder.

You shake your head. "Yeah, maybe."

The words hang between you, filled with something gentle, something fleeting but real. You feel the stirrings of a connection, fragile and unexpected, like the wingbeats of a fairy. There’s a hollow space in your chest where his memory used to sit, and it takes everything in you not to let it show, not to let the quiet ache spill over. The ring on your finger is long gone, but the phantom of it lingers—an unspoken promise that can never be fulfilled, a history you no longer share with anyone. “What about you?” You shift the conversation, trying to keep the tears at bay, trying to pull yourself back from the edge of vulnerability you’re teetering on. “Do you have someone, someone you’ve loved the way you were loved?”

His smile falters a tad, a flash of something—pain, perhaps, or nostalgia—passing through his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the easy grin you’ve already grown accustomed to—the one that doesn’t let anyone get too close. But the silence that follows speaks volumes, and you almost feel like you’ve crossed some invisible line. Fearing that you’ve peeked into a part of him he didn’t mean nor want to reveal. "I did," he says quietly, almost to himself, the words hanging between you both like a secret. “But sometimes, we love people in ways they can’t love us back.”

The weight of his words sits heavily in the space between you. It’s raw, vulnerable in a way that contradicts his earlier bravado, and you find yourself wondering how much more of him there is behind that smile, behind the charming facade. In that moment, you see something that mirrors your own grief, your own loneliness, and it’s unsettling. “Is she still around?”

“He’s not,” he shakes his head.

You take a sip from your glass, the sharp bitterness of the alcohol grounding you, and give him a small, knowing smile. “Well, I suppose we all have our stories.”

His eyes lock onto yours for a long, unspoken moment. You wonder if this is one of those rare moments in life where people truly see each other—not just for the faces they wear, but for what’s buried beneath. What they carry in the silence. “I think you’re right,” he finally says, his voice soft, but there’s an edge to it now, a quiet tenderness that wasn’t there before. "But not everyone’s story is meant to be told in one night."

Your heart flutters for a reason you can’t quite place, and for the first time in a long while, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, fate isn’t as cruel as it’s always seemed. Maybe, in this strange twist of events, you weren’t meant to run away from the past after all—but to face it, alongside someone who understands what it’s like to love and lose.

“I’m too old for you,” you laugh off his subtle suggestion, looking over to the opposite corner of the small, dim-lit bar. There are two girls sitting at the booth with obviously wandering eyes toward your new, unexpected companion. “Maybe them.”

He follows your gaze, his eyes flickering briefly to the two girls in the corner, before turning back to you with that signature, easy grin—unchanged, unaffected. The playfulness in his smile doesn’t reach the depths of his eyes, though. You wonder if he’s seeing something entirely different than the charming stranger you’ve made him out to be. You can feel the shift, subtle but undeniable, as if he’s testing the waters of your words, gauging how much of this is just casual banter and how much of it has an undercurrent you aren’t ready to acknowledge.

"Maybe," he replies, leaning back slightly, but there’s a glint of something else in his expression now, something that makes the air between you feel heavier. "But you know, I’m kind of having some fun with you right now." His voice drops, a playful edge softening into something more serious, and it makes you wonder if he’s teasing or if there’s something deeper in his intentions that hasn’t fully revealed itself yet.

“I don’t think we’re having fun.”

“Then what are we having.”

“A simple conversation, nothing more, nothing less.”

He chuckles, leaning closer and tilting his head towards you. “Just how old do you think I am?”

You meet his gaze, noticing a small twinkle. Your eyes move down, analyzing his features. He lets you do so in an untimely manner and when he sees that you’re looking lower at his arms, he playfully flexes. An amused snort that almost sounds like a scoff leaves your lips. “Young enough to be my son.”

“Do you have children?”

“And if I do?”

“Then that’s even better because I love MILFS.”

You scoff for real this time, eyes narrowing at him. “I don’t, but what you just said further proves my point.”

The air between you both shifts, like a quiet storm brewing, though neither of you is quite ready to acknowledge it. His words hang there, an almost careless suggestion laced with mischief, but they are impossible to ignore. You try to brush it off, laugh it off, but something about the way he leans in—his proximity, the way his gaze never wavers from yours—makes it harder than it should be. There’s something in his demeanor that says he’s not just playing, not just following the familiar rhythm of flirty banter. It feels like he’s pushing against the boundaries you’ve set, testing them in a way that catches you off guard.

He watches your every reaction carefully, his smile just a little too knowing, a little too calculated for someone so young. You can feel the heat of his gaze as it lingers, catching you off guard in a way that leaves your words hanging in your throat. His comment about MILFs—joking or not—makes your skin prickle uncomfortably, and for a second, you wonder if he’s being more sincere than you care to admit. But you can’t show it, not when you’ve already drawn the line, already told yourself this was just a fleeting moment in an unfamiliar place.

You clear your throat, trying to bring the conversation back to familiar ground, but the awkwardness lingers. “I’m sure you have better things to do than sit here with a woman who could be your mother.”

“Maybe I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he says, the playful edge in his voice softened by something deeper. There’s a sudden, subtle weight to his words, as though he’s no longer speaking just to entertain or to flirt, but to convey something more. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, and it catches you off guard. His eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. The playful front cracks, revealing a hint of something you can’t quite name.

You shift uncomfortably, your thoughts creeping in again. "Well, you’ll find plenty of people who can keep you entertained around here." You gesture vaguely to the bar, the people milling about, the noise, the chatter. "I’m not the one you’re looking for."

His expression dampens. “Maybe you’re right. But maybe I’m just looking for someone who sees me, you know?”

The words hit you harder than they should, a soft pressure in your chest that you quickly try to dismiss. What is he saying? He doesn’t know you, yet he’s almost acting like he does. "I see you," you respond, your voice quieter than before, the weight of the statement hanging between you both like a truth neither of you is willing to face.

He doesn’t say anything right away, but his eyes darken, the smile fading into something more thoughtful, more introspective. You begin to think he might say something that cuts through all the barriers you’ve put up, something that challenges the notion that this is just a casual encounter between strangers. But instead, he shifts in his seat, taking another long sip of his drink. “I don’t know if you do,” he finally says, his voice lower now, the playful lilt gone.

When he puts his drink down, you blame it on the alcohol from the way your skin flushes in a girlish way as he leans in—his breath fanning your ear. You also blame it on the alcohol when you’re reciprocating his advances, meeting his stare with an equally heated one of your own. And finally, you blame it on the alcohol when you tilt your head to whisper something in his ear.

“Do you want me to look harder?”

That was the first night you went home with him—the first night you indulged in the warmth and pleasure a man—Satoru—can bring you. And even after sharing your ages, that never stopped. It somehow…never stopped you either. You found yourself giving in—almost craving the way his hands grip your hips, the way his slim and long fingers dance along your ribs in a soft manner.

You didn’t expect yourself to be falling over the edge, finishing on just the tongue of a man younger than you. You always prided yourself on wanting—needing—an older man. And god, you were really missing out, weren’t you?

But it wasn’t just the way he touched you, the way his mouth knew exactly how to undo you piece by piece—it was the way he looked at you. Like you were something untouchable, yet here he was, holding you, ruining you, worshipping you in ways you hadn’t let anyone do in years.

It was intoxicating.

You told yourself it was just a fling, something fleeting, something fun. A vacation romance, a secret indulgence that you’d tuck away once you boarded your plane back home. But Satoru wasn’t the kind of man you could forget easily. His touch lingered, his voice echoed, and before you even realized it, you were answering his calls. Responding to his texts. Finding yourself in his arms again, even when you swore it would be the last time. You found yourself smiling at him when you believed he wasn’t looking, stifling a peal of laughter at his stupid jokes that he only said so he could see the way your eyes crinkle at the edges—you were finding comfort in him.

A warm, tentative comfort that only one other man had brought you before.

There were times you felt guilty, believing you were still bound to your late husband even in death, and at times—you almost compared the two. However, you know Masamichi would’ve wanted you to move on and care for yourself in ways he couldn’t do anymore. He would’ve smiled and encouraged you to find pleasure in your life.

And you did.

Because somewhere between those nights tangled in silk sheets and the hushed laughter over shared meals, you forgot to remind yourself of the one thing that mattered most: this was never meant to last.

But at the same time, you almost didn’t want it to end. You enjoyed the way he kissed your knuckles, moved strands of hair out your face, and complimented you when you felt at your lowest. He was seeing every part of you—the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. You were letting him.

One night, after a particularly passionate session, he’s running his fingers along the curve of your spine. Naked bodies huddled next to one another, and the sheets offer a nice little coverup. The moonlight peeks through his blinds, the plush mattress sinking further underneath your weights. He kisses the top of your head softly before moving to your temple. Once again, you’re smiling. Tracing mindless circles on his bare chest, your foot rubbing up and down his calf. No words are spoken, there usually aren’t. But the silence doesn’t feel deafening; it feels comfortable. You found yourself snuggling closer to him. “Satoru?”

“Mhm?” he hummed back, sighing lightly, his smile never wavering.

“Where do you…see yourself in ten years?”

He hums again, this time in thought, his fingers never ceasing their lazy tracing along your spine. You feel the way his chest rises and falls beneath your palm, steady and unhurried. You wonder if he’s really thinking about your question, or if he’s simply enjoying the feel of you against him. “In ten years?” he finally repeats, voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile moment. “I don’t know…Happy, I guess. Settled down; I’d like to have kids by then.”

Your fingers pause against his chest. You don’t know why, but his answer catches you off guard. Not because it’s shocking—he’s young, full of life, full of potential—but because it’s something you’ve stopped thinking about for yourself. “Kids?” you echo, tilting your head up to look at him. His pale lashes flutter slightly as he meets your gaze, and there’s something soft in his expression, something almost wistful.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, a small chuckle escaping him. “A couple of ‘em, maybe. A little girl who’s just as stubborn as me, a boy who’s just as curious. Someone to pass everything down to, y’know?” His hand moves from your back, up to your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he exhales. “I think I’d be a good dad.”

You don’t doubt that. Satoru is many things—annoying, arrogant, childish at times—but he’s also deeply caring. He loves with his whole heart, even when he pretends he doesn’t. You can see him being the kind of father who carries his child on his shoulders, who spoils them with sweets, who makes bad dad jokes just to hear their laughter.

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to say that out loud. Instead, you settle for a noncommittal hum, lowering your head back onto his chest, letting the weight of his words settle between you. Ten years from now, he’ll have a family. He’ll have everything he wants. And you won’t be part of it.

That’s when reality hit for you. You’re holding him back. You can’t give him what he wants, what he longs for. It’s a bittersweet, brutal reminder that this little world you’ve built was only meant to be temporary. That the laughs, touches, kisses, the sex, it’s fickle. You’ve blinded yourself and let yourself sink too far deep to understand that what Satoru wants…he can’t experience with you.

And so, it started small. Days spent out with him, your eyes would flicker around, moving from one woman to the next. Pointing them out to him in an encouraging way.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” “Maybe you should go ask for her number.”

“You’re both tall, you would go well together.”

It honestly hurt to push him away—to open his eyes to the other fish in the sea while a small part of you wished he could only be yours. But you’d never ask him to stop following his dreams of becoming a family man for your own selfish desires.

At the start, he humors you. Rolls his eyes, scoffs, plays along like it’s just another one of your little jokes. “She’s alright, I guess,” he shrugs when you point out a woman at the café, her long legs crossed elegantly as she sips on a cappuccino. “But I prefer my women a little more…experienced.” He flashes you that cocky grin, the one that always makes your stomach flutter.

You laugh, but it’s forced. You ignore the way your chest tightens, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to reach for him. But then you do it again. And again. And again.

It doesn’t take him long to catch on.

One evening, when you offhandedly comment on the cute waitress who just served your drinks, something shifts in his expression. His smile dims, his fingers drum idly against the table. “Y’know,” he says, tone too casual, too light. “You’ve been doing this a lot lately.”

You feign ignorance, sipping your wine. “Doing what?”

“Trying to set me up like some kind of matchmaking service.” He leans forward, elbows on the table, gaze sharp. “You got tired of me already?”

You force back a sigh. The way he says it—half-joking, half-serious—makes your stomach twist. “Satoru—”

“No, really,” he cuts in smoothly, tilting his head. “Is that what this is? You pushing me away? Guilt-tripping me into realizing you’re too old for me or whatever bullshit you’ve been telling yourself?”

Your fingers clench around the stem of your glass. He sees right through you. You swallow, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

His laugh is sharp, humorless. “Looking out for me?” He leans back, stretching his arms along the booth. “Or making decisions for me?”

You hate how much that stings. You hate how right he is.

“I just…” You exhale, setting your glass down. “I just don’t want to hold you back, Satoru.”

His jaw tightens. His eyes search yours, and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue. You think he’s going to tell you you’re being ridiculous, that he wants you, that he doesn’t care about the future you keep running from.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re really that convinced this can’t work, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

His lips press into a thin line. He nods once, slow and deliberate. “Alright,” he mutters, reaching for his drink. “Message received.”

And just like that, the air between you shifts.

Colder.

More distant.

Like the beginning of the end.

Your heart drops, looking back down at your wine. For a second, you felt like you ruined things. But it’s better to nip things in the bud than let them bloom, is it not?

Even after that, he was still adamant about seeing you. You let him, deciding to relish in these last few tender moments you may have with him. The sun was shining and beaming down on you two as you ate your brunch. It was a pleasant day. She was beautiful—the kind of beautiful that made you wonder how someone like her could even exist in this world. The type of beautiful that turned heads and left impressions. The type that had Satoru slowly following her with his eyes. You tell yourself this is a good thing. That this is what you wanted. That you should feel relieved that, finally, he’s looking at someone else the way he shouldn’t be looking at you.

But it doesn’t feel like a relief. It feels like a knife twisting in your gut.

You lift your mimosa to your lips, taking a slow sip, pretending you don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on her. She’s stunning—long legs, flawless skin, a radiant smile that could stop anyone in their tracks, and long black hair. She looks like she belongs in a magazine, not in a small café, laughing at something her friend just said.

You force yourself to smile. “She’s exactly your type.”

Satoru’s attention snaps back to you, and there’s something unreadable in his expression. He blinks, then exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t quit, do you?”

You tilt your head, feigning confusion. “I’m just saying, you should talk to her.”

He scoffs, pushing his fork around his plate. “Yeah? And then what?”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Satoru sets his silverware down with a quiet clink, resting his arms on the table. “Let’s say I go up to her. Get her number. Take her on a date.” He shrugs, giving you a half-smile. “Then what? I sleep with her? Take her on more dates? Marry her?”

You stare at him, not sure where this is going.

“And then we have kids,” he continues, his tone light, but his eyes—his eyes are sharp, cutting right through you. “That’s what you want, right? For me to find someone younger, someone who can give me the future I want.”

Your throat tightens.

He leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “So, tell me something.” His voice drops, softer now, almost vulnerable. “If I wanted all of that with someone else, don’t you think I’d already be doing it?”

Your breath catches.

He waits.

But you don’t have an answer.

All you can do is encourage him to go up to her.

And he did.

He was reluctant, of course. Only doing it to shut you up.

But you saw the way his expression softened, the way his dimples poked out when he’d talk about her. You were there on the side, watching what he once thought would be a simple meeting, to finding a woman he’d started to fall for.

It was like watching a slow-moving car crash—one you orchestrated with your own hands. You had done this. You had led him to her, pushed him in her direction, knowing full well what it would mean. And yet, knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

The texts started. Little mentions of her here and there. You caught the way his face lit up in a way you hadn’t seen before, the way he spoke about her with that quiet sort of wonder like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he never expected to solve. You were still a part of his life, still, someone he made time for, but something between you had shifted irreversibly. The stolen moments, the lingering touches, the whispered confessions under moonlit sheets—they grew fewer and further between, replaced by something… distant.

She was such a kind and lovely woman, her voice made of butter when she spoke to you about him. And when you caught him smiling at his phone one evening, thumb idly tapping out a message to her, you knew.

He had found what you wanted for him. What he deserved. What you couldn’t give him.

So why did it feel like you were the one being left behind?

“Are you happy?” you had whispered, holding him tight in a hug, eyes beginning to water.

He held you back, arms secure around your waist. His icy hair tickled your skin, and he planted a soft, reverent kiss on your cheek. Pulling back to look at you, he didn’t have that fiery, teasing sparkle in his eyes like usual. No, this time, all that was there was just…him. Just Satoru.

“I am,” he had said with a genuine finality.

The trickle of warm tears slid down your cheeks, his thumbs swiping softly at the skin. “Good, I’m…I’m happy too.”

Truthfully, you were. Because if you had to let Satoru go, if you had to let him be the man he should be, you knew he was doing it beside a woman that was worth it. She was worth it. And you were beginning to be okay with the fact of being a memory to him, as long as it meant his wishes came true.

You left him, never once looking back, answering his texts or his calls.

You don’t know how you had the strength to do it, how you managed to pull yourself away from the man you’d poured so much of yourself into. There was a time when you thought you’d never be able to let go—when you believed you’d somehow convince him that the life he envisioned with someone else wasn’t worth pursuing. But the truth was, you couldn’t keep holding onto him, not when the weight of your love was slowly suffocating him, not when you knew that he needed to step into a future that wasn’t tied to a past that could never fully be his. You didn’t want to be the one who held him back, no matter how much it hurt.

The hardest part was the silence that came after. You told yourself it was for the best, that you were doing him a favor, letting him breathe, letting him live without your shadow hanging over him. But the quiet was unbearable. Slowly, the hole he left inside you grew wider, the void left by his absence swallowing you whole. It felt like a slow, silent death—a death that had to happen for him to thrive, even if you weren’t ready for it.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

But somehow, that was for the best. He was with her now—his beautiful, young, hopeful future. And you? You were learning to accept the peace that came with being the past. The bittersweet relief of knowing that you had let him go, even when it felt like a piece of you was missing forever. You were learning to find happiness and acceptance with that. But you knew deep down, a part of you would always love him. And that part would remain tucked away, hidden, safe in the quiet recesses of your heart where no one could touch it. Because, no matter how much time passed, no matter how much life moved on, Satoru would always be the one who made you believe in the fleeting beauty of something that could never truly last.

Seven years had passed, and time had etched its marks on both of you. You were different now—wiser, perhaps. Life had moved on, as it always did, carrying you forward in unexpected ways. You found a home in Japan, a little place tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, a perfect reflection of the peace you had slowly cultivated within yourself. It was the kind of home you never thought you'd need after him, but somehow, it filled the emptiness that had lingered for so long.

When you saw him again, it felt like a thousand memories rushed back to you in a single moment. His shock was palpable—eyes wide with disbelief, brows furrowed as if trying to make sense of the woman standing before him. The same Satoru, yet different in small, subtle ways. His features had softened, a few lines around his eyes that spoke of time passing, of laughter shared, of a life fully lived. He was healthy, vibrant, the man you’d once known and the one who had continued his journey without you. "Y/N?" His voice was quiet at first, unsure if this was real or just a figment of his mind. His gaze swept over you as if trying to understand how you could still exist in his life after everything.

And then, he smiled. It wasn’t the same playful grin that had always been there, the one that had once made your heart race. This one was softer, warmer—gentler. It carried the weight of the years apart, but also the familiarity of someone who had once been an integral part of your soul.

And you smiled back again.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, the embrace as natural as it was unexpected. It wasn’t just a hug; it was a reunion, a silent acknowledgment of everything that had passed between you both. For a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feeling the comforting strength of his hold, the warmth of his body that you once thought you'd never feel again. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, just the undeniable connection that had never truly disappeared. It was as though time had been kind to you both, erasing the pain and replacing it with something softer, something more peaceful.

“Satoru,” you muttered softly, almost in relief.

"You look good," he said softly, pulling away just enough to look at you, his hands lingering on your arms as if testing the reality of this moment.

You feel something cold pressed against your arm, looking down…there’s a golden ring on his left ring finger. Your lips parted with mild surprise before looking up at him with a sense of blitheness. You couldn’t help but chuckle, eyes crinkling in the way he loved—loves. “...is it her?”

He nods, glancing down at your own hand. And look at that; he’s not the only one with a gold ring. “And what about you?’ he asked, a softness in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, bringing your hand up and admiring the band around your finger, the diamond saying hello once more. Memories of your husband’s gruff voice, his frown that he tried so hard to keep etched on his face, the spiky black hair you loved to comb your fingers through, the scar on the corner of his mouth that you loved to kiss. “His name is Toji.”

He nodded with a wave of approval. “How long?”

“Three years. And you?”

“Four.”

You guys laughed simultaneously. The sound of your shared laughter fills the quiet space between you two, and for a moment, it feels like no time has passed at all. There’s an ease to it, an old familiarity that you never quite lost, even with the years between you. The weight of everything that had happened—your separation, his journey, your own—seems to melt away, leaving only the lightness of the present moment. It feels almost surreal, standing there with him, both of you changed yet still the same in many ways.

You glance down at your left hand again, the ring catching the sunlight that spills through the window. The cool metal seems to hum with its own kind of quiet significance. Toji.

But now, standing here with Satoru, there’s a strange sense of nostalgia mixed with contentment. You never imagined this—standing side by side with him, sharing your worlds as they are now. When you look up at Satoru, you see the same softness in his eyes that’s always been there, but now it carries with it the weight of time. He has a family, a future that doesn’t include you, and that’s okay. There’s peace in that. He’s found what he was always meant to have, the thing that once felt like an impossibility between you two.

“Four years,” you repeat, your voice soft, taking in the new ring on his finger. “That’s beautiful, Satoru. I’m…I’m so happy for you.”

He grins, that same playful glint in his eyes, but this time it feels like it’s tempered by something deeper, something more sincere. “Yeah,” he says, voice quiet but firm. “She’s incredible. I’m really lucky.”

The warmth that spreads through you isn’t jealousy, or bitterness, or anything like that. It’s something else entirely—pride, maybe. Or relief. You always knew that Satoru was meant for something bigger than what you two could have together, but seeing him happy now, seeing him settled with someone who makes his eyes light up the way they used to with you, it’s the closure you never thought you needed.

“You?” he asks again, as though sensing the unspoken question between you two. His gaze shifts to your hand again, then back up to your face.

The words come out easily now. “He’s my rock,” you say simply, the affection in your voice unguarded. “He makes me better, makes me whole.”

Satoru’s expression softens, and you see the flicker of that old tenderness—the way he used to look at you before everything got complicated. But it’s not painful, this time. It’s not heavy. It’s just… understanding. Like he’s happy that you’ve found that kind of peace. The kind of peace he’s found with her. “You both deserve it,” he says with a nod, as though sealing the quiet approval between you two. “You deserve everything good that comes your way.”

It’s a simple statement, but it carries so much weight. The unspoken acknowledgment that the two of you, after all this time, have moved on, and have created lives for yourselves that reflect who you’ve become. And for all that has happened, all the loss and the love that came and went, there’s something beautiful in knowing that this chapter—this shared history—is now something you both cherish without needing to hold on to.

He invited you over that day and you accepted.

His wife runs up to you, hugging you like you’re an old friend. “Oh my god!” she exclaims in a gasp, her red-tinted lips curved up into a wide smile. You hugged her back, mirroring his reactions. “It’s so great to see you again, Miss. Satoru and I have never forgotten you.”

“Utahime…” he mutters with slight embarrassment.

You chortled and patted her back. “I haven’t forgotten about you too either.”

She pulls back, removing her arms from you. Satoru places a warm arm around her waist and brings her to his side. The display of affection has you melting on the inside, head tilting in fondness. Satoru looks at you. “So, there’s someone we want you to—”

The sound of little pitter-patter against the hardwood cuts him off, all of your attention being dragged to the little girl with white hair and auburn eyes like her moth bounding up to you in excited familiarity. Her tiny gasp as she looks up at you with wide, innocent, twinkling eyes. She looked up at you as if she had known you her whole life, bubbling with a sense of jitteriness, cheeks glowing with a youthful flush. You couldn’t help but crouch down to her height, head tilting. Your eyes glazed over with tears, holding a hand to your mouth to hold back the broken laugh you almost let out at the question she asked you.

“Are you the fairy?”

a/n: this story is inspired by "a love not made for me" by aryana rose. please go hear her speak it, she tells it so beautifully :(((. anywho, thank u guys for 2k really. i love u all and I'm incredibly grateful for all the support and love and patience :))

i couldn't do it without yall. <3

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thedensworld · 2 days ago

Text

My Baby, My Sugar | J. Ww

Genre: fluff, billionaire au!, smut (18+ only)

Summary: His love for you is unconditional. He gives you everything, he takes you everywhere, and he'll do anything for you.

Wonwoo noticed something was different about you tonight, but he couldn't quite grasp what it was. From the moment he picked you up to the quiet drive to the upscale restaurant his secretary had booked, you had been unusually silent. He knew you weren’t one to talk endlessly, but tonight, the silence felt heavier—weighted with something unspoken.

"Hey, are you alright, love?" His voice was gentle, laced with concern.

You turned your head to him, your gaze flickering down to where his hand rested on your lap, fingers laced with yours. His grip tightened slightly when you didn’t answer immediately, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, silently urging you to speak. You let out a soft sigh.

"I'm fine… Just a bit more tired than usual," you finally said, offering him a small, weary smile.

Wonwoo didn’t look convinced, but he smiled anyway, a quiet reassurance in his expression. "We’ll be there soon," he said softly, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Tonight, you looked absolutely breathtaking. The black dress he had bought you last week hugged your figure elegantly, its half-long sleeves giving you an air of effortless sophistication. The delicate jewelry adorning your neck and wrists—pieces he had insisted on getting you last month as a reward for finishing your semester as a teacher—only enhanced your beauty. You always looked stunning to him, but tonight, something about you felt untouchable, distant, like a painting behind glass.

Once seated across from you at the candlelit table, Wonwoo barely touched his food. Instead, he watched you. Observed the way you pushed the vegetables around your plate, the way your fingers toyed with the stem of your wine glass, how you sighed so softly you probably didn’t even realize it.

"You don’t like the food?" Wonwoo asked, his voice warm but firm.

You blinked at him, then hastily picked up your fork, shaking your head. "No, I love it."

"Then why haven’t you touched it, love?" His eyes softened as he leaned in slightly, his fingers tapping lightly against the table.

He was done waiting. Whatever was troubling you tonight, he wanted to know.

"Talk to me. What’s wrong?"

The way he looked at you—with so much patience, so much affection—made it impossible to keep up the facade any longer. You sighed, setting your fork down before finally voicing the thought that had been weighing on you all evening.

"You donated a lot of money to the school…" Your voice was quiet but firm, cutting through the comfortable ambiance of the restaurant.

Wonwoo raised his brows, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected topic. He nodded, confirming your statement.

"The headmaster was ecstatic," you continued, but there was something about the way you said it that made his stomach twist. It wasn’t excitement or gratitude he heard—it was something else.

"Why?" He tilted his head slightly, studying you closely. "You don’t like it?"

You shook your head, your fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "It’s not that. I appreciate it, really. But… you should’ve discussed something like this with me first."

Wonwoo’s lips parted slightly as he took in your words. He bit his lower lip, exhaling through his nose. You were right. He had promised—promised that anything involving you, anything that mattered to you, would be something you both discussed together. He hadn’t intended to overstep, but he understood now where your disappointment was coming from.

His hand reached across the table, fingers wrapping around yours with a gentle squeeze. "You’re right," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I should’ve talked to you about it first. I’m sorry, love."

You glanced at him, your features softening slightly at his sincerity.

"How about we talk about this properly after dinner? At your place," Wonwoo suggested, his thumb brushing the back of your hand.

You hesitated before mumbling, "My place is messy…" a small pout formed on your lips.

Wonwoo let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head fondly. "Alright, then let’s talk at my place, okay?"

This time, when he looked at you, the weight in your eyes seemed a little lighter. And though you didn’t say it, the way your fingers curled slightly tighter around his hand told him that you appreciated him listening.

Wonwoo met you through a friend. He had been desperate, though he’d never admit it out loud, to find a woman who could steal his heart effortlessly. Someone who could make him fall so hard that he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at the thought of simping for her. Because Wonwoo had always believed he was a lover at heart. When he loved, he loved deeply—down bad, hopelessly devoted.

But every date his mother arranged had been a disappointment. They were all perfectly respectable women, but none of them had that spark, that something that could make his heart race. Frustrated, he turned to Mingyu—the one person he knew who seemed to have connections with almost everyone in the world.

"I think I know someone," Mingyu had said one day, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Without hesitation, he reached out to his sister, asking her to introduce Wonwoo to her best friend—you.

"I hear about her all the time," Mingyu continued, scrolling through his phone. "She’s nice, kind, smart—which is totally your type. I think she’s cool."

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at him, skeptical. "Why don’t you date her, then?"

Mingyu barely looked up as he chuckled, tilting his phone toward Wonwoo. "Oh… she doesn’t like me."

That caught Wonwoo’s attention. He raised a brow, leaning in slightly. "She doesn’t like you?" he repeated, intrigued.

A girl who wasn’t charmed by Mingyu?

Now that was interesting.

However, when he finally met you for the first time, picking you up from school, his heart raced in a way he hadn't expected. You walked through the gates dressed in a modest, simple outfit, yet there was something about the way you smiled and waved at him that sent a jolt of nervous excitement through him. Even now, after all this time, you still managed to make him nervous sometimes.

From the very start, you led conversations with confidence, your eyes brimming with passion whenever you spoke about something you loved. It was effortless—how time slipped away when he was with you. And it wasn’t just him who enjoyed it; he could tell you did too.

One date turned into two, then three, and by the fourth, he knew he didn’t want to waste any more time. He asked you to be his girlfriend on a Saturday night, aboard his family’s yacht, the city lights flickering in the distance as the ocean breeze carried his words to you.

Since then, he had been completely, hopelessly, utterly whipped for you.

Every day after school, he was there to pick you up. And on the rare occasions when work held him back, he made sure his secretary, Chan, took care of it, ensuring you got home safely.

He learned to cook—not because he had to, but because you once mentioned that fine dining all the time made you a little uncomfortable. So, he tried. He practiced. He wanted to make dinner dates at his place special for you, even if it meant burning a few attempts along the way.

One time, when you had a week-long workshop in Jeju, he booked a last-minute flight just because he hadn’t seen you in days and couldn’t stand another minute apart.

Expensive gifts? Of course. If you so much as mentioned something in passing, he would have it ready for you in no time. But it wasn’t about the price—it was about the way your eyes lit up, the way you smiled, the way you kissed him and whispered thank you like he had just given you the world.

Because to him, you were his world.

He loved you unconditionally, without hesitation, without limits.

And he would do anything for you.

You sat curled up on Wonwoo’s couch, completely absorbed in a book from your favorite author—one that he had been collecting ever since you started dating a year ago. It was a quiet, cozy night, just the way you liked it. You had already changed into a pair of pajama pants that Wonwoo had bought for you a while ago, paired with one of his old, oversized T-shirts—the one he could never bring himself to throw away because you loved it too much.

The sound of water running in the bathroom had stopped, but you were too engrossed in your book to notice. Your fingers flipped through the pages eagerly, your heart racing as the tension in the story built.

And then—

A pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist from behind.

You gasped, nearly dropping the book as you jumped in surprise. "You scared me!" You turned your head to glare at him, breathless. "I was literally at the most intense part!"

Wonwoo chuckled, his deep voice rumbling against your ear. "Sorry, love. You just looked too cute sitting there, all focused." He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, his damp hair tickling your skin.

You sighed dramatically, putting the book down on the coffee table before turning fully toward him. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him close as you rested your head against his chest. His skin was warm from the shower, smelling faintly of his fresh, clean scent—the one that always made you feel at home.

His arms tightened around you, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "Better?" he murmured.

You hummed in contentment, closing your eyes.

"Why did you donate so much money to our school?" you mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear. You felt embarrassed bringing up the topic again, but it had been weighing on your mind too much to ignore.

Wonwoo turned to look at you, his gaze gentle but questioning. "Before I answer that… may I know what’s wrong?"

You sighed, your thoughts swirling with everything the teachers had been saying. It wasn’t exactly a secret anymore—there were already rumors going around the school about you having a crazy rich boyfriend. The moment people started seeing Wonwoo pick you up in his sleek car, the whispers began. And while you had never directly addressed it, the weight of it all had started to burden you.

The worst part? Some of the teachers had been unprofessional enough to bring it up in front of the students, which only made things worse. Now, even your students had started asking questions—questions you weren’t sure how to answer.

You licked your lips, hesitating before finally admitting, "I’ve kind of become a hot topic among the teachers and students."

Wonwoo’s brows furrowed instantly. "Are they saying something bad?"

You shook your head, trying to be honest. "Not entirely bad… but it’s just burdensome. They talk about you, about how I must’ve done something to get you—like I had to scheme my way into this relationship or something." You exhaled sharply, waving your hand as if that could brush off the weight of their words. "It’s not exactly important, but it’s tiring to hear."

Wonwoo didn’t say anything right away, but you could feel the shift in his energy. His sharp mind was already putting pieces together, and before you could stop him, he asked, "Has this been going on for a while?"

You hesitated, then finally gave in to the truth, nodding slowly.

Wonwoo’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. He didn’t like that. Not one bit.

"I’m starting to dislike everyone in that school. Can’t you just quit, love?" Wonwoo suggested, his voice firm as he met your gaze. His hands, warm and steady, tightened ever so slightly around your waist.

You sighed, shaking your head. "No, I still have a contract until next semester. I can’t just leave."

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, his jaw tensing. He remembered the things you had told him about your workplace—particularly about the headmaster. From the way you had described the man, Wonwoo already knew he was the type of person he couldn’t stand.

One moment stood out in his mind. You had mentioned how the headmaster once made an inappropriate comment about a photo you had posted on social media—a picture of you wearing a stunning red dress that he had bought for you. It had been slightly revealing, but when you had asked for his opinion before posting it, Wonwoo hadn’t minded at all. If anything, he had thought you looked breathtaking.

But then you told him what the headmaster had said.

"You should dress like that more often, Ms. Ji. Your work outfits are a little boring."

Wonwoo felt his grip on you tighten instinctively as the memory resurfaced. Just thinking about it again made his blood boil.

He let out a slow breath, grounding himself before speaking. "I donated to show him power," he admitted, his voice quieter this time. "I wanted everyone to respect you. Especially the headmaster." He paused, his fingers gently rubbing circles on your back. "But I was wrong."

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips—a silent apology, full of warmth and sincerity.

"I’m sorry, love," he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

Wonwoo pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs tracing soft circles along your cheeks. His voice was quiet, steady, but filled with something deeper—something only you could decipher.

"Love," he murmured, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away just enough to speak again. "Have I been a burden to you?"

Your breath hitched slightly at the question, surprised by his directness. His eyes, dark and full of concern, searched yours for the truth.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he continued, his voice softer now. "If being with me has made things harder for you… I want to know."

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing against your chest. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel guilty, hadn’t wanted to let the whispers and judgments of others taint the love you shared. But this was Wonwoo—he had always been patient with you, always listened without judgment. And now, he was asking for honesty.

You sighed, leaning into his touch, closing your eyes as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. "It’s not you that’s the burden," you admitted. "It’s… everything that comes with being with you."

His grip on you didn’t falter, if anything, it tightened as if grounding you. "Tell me," he urged, lips ghosting over yours before stealing another slow, tender kiss, coaxing the truth out of you with every touch.

You exhaled shakily. "It’s the way people talk. The way they look at me like I don’t deserve you. Like I had to do something manipulative just to be with you." Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as you continued. "It’s the pressure of being seen as your girlfriend before anything else. People assume things about me because of who you are, and sometimes… it’s exhausting."

Wonwoo let out a quiet hum, his lips pressing against yours again, deeper this time, as if trying to soothe the frustration and exhaustion you carried. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, grounding you in the warmth of his presence.

Wonwoo pulled back just enough to look at you again, his gaze unwavering. His fingers traced slow, reassuring patterns on your waist, urging you to continue.

"Tell me more," he said softly, his voice gentle yet firm. "What else has been weighing on you, love?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. The words were right there, but voicing them felt daunting. You didn’t want to come across as ungrateful or make him feel misunderstood. But the way he looked at you—with so much patience and love—made it easier to open up. "It’s… the way you spoil me," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling as it escaped.

Wonwoo furrowed his brows, leaning in slightly as if trying to read your emotions. "What do you mean?"

You let out a soft breath, trying to find the right way to explain. "I don’t want our relationship to feel like some kind of… transaction," you continued, your words quieter now. You looked down briefly, collecting your thoughts before meeting his eyes again. "The expensive gifts, the luxury things… I know you do it out of love, but sometimes, it feels like you’re paying me to be with you."

Your voice wavered slightly, but you pressed on, knowing this was something you had to say. "And that—it hurts my ego, Wonwoo."

His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, but his expression softened as he processed your words. He didn’t say anything immediately, just let you continue.

"I love that you care for me, and I know you don’t see it that way," you quickly added, almost as if you were trying to reassure him. "But every time you buy me something extravagant, it feels like I’m being… taken care of in a way that makes me feel small. Like I can’t stand beside you as an equal. And I hate that feeling." You bit your lip, trying to steady your nerves. It felt like your pride was slowly unraveling, but you needed him to understand.

Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, his hands moving to cradle your face, his touch tender yet firm. "Love," he whispered, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, his voice full of sincerity. "I don’t spoil you because I think you need taking care of. I do it because I want to. Because I love you. You deserve everything, Y/n."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. Your eyes flickered between his, the vulnerability in your chest raw and exposed. "I know. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful," you said, your voice cracking a little. "But sometimes, I feel like… I can’t give you the same in return. Like I’ll never be able to match what you do for me."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and a quiet tension settled between you, the vulnerability and honesty of the moment tangible.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened as he gently tilted your chin upward, guiding your face closer to his. "You don’t have to match me, love," he whispered, his voice firm but soothing. "This isn’t about keeping score. I’m not trying to buy your love. I’m giving you what I can, because I want you to have everything you deserve. But you don’t owe me anything. Not a thing. Just… be with me. That’s all I need."

You didn’t realize it at first, but as the conversation continued, the weight of everything you'd been holding in began to pour out. The tears fell quietly, tracing down your cheeks as your emotions finally found an outlet. You hadn’t meant to cry, but the vulnerability had cracked something open inside you, something that needed release.

Wonwoo immediately noticed, his expression shifting from concern to tenderness as he gently cupped your face in his hands. "Hey, love," he whispered, his voice low and soothing, "don’t cry, please."

His thumb brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the tears before they could fall, but they kept coming. You could feel the tightness in your throat as you tried to hold it together, but it was impossible. You didn’t know why this moment, this conversation, was making you so emotional, but it felt like everything had finally come to the surface.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered between soft sobs, your voice shaky. "I didn’t mean to fall apart like this."

Wonwoo’s heart ached as he watched you struggle, and without hesitation, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a tender embrace. He didn’t say anything right away—just held you, letting you cry into his chest as he stroked your back in gentle, rhythmic motions. His scent, his warmth, enveloped you, calming the storm inside you little by little.

After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at you again, his eyes filled with nothing but care and understanding. He gently kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead, his lips soft against your skin. "You don’t have to apologize, Y/n," he murmured. "I’m here. I’ll always be here for you."

His words were like a balm to your aching heart, and you leaned into him again, feeling his chest rise and fall with each steady breath he took. He was your anchor, always there to help you calm the chaos within yourself.

His words settled in your chest like a warm, comforting weight, and for the first time in a while, the heaviness in your heart began to lift. Wonwoo's steady presence was all you needed in that moment. He had a way of making everything feel manageable, even when it seemed like the world was too much to bear.

His hands gently cupped your face again, his thumb softly tracing the curve of your jaw. His touch was tender, but there was an undeniable heat in the way his eyes lingered on yours, the depth of his gaze speaking volumes.

"Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and husky now, sending a shiver down your spine. "You have no idea how much I need you."

Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his words. It felt like the air between you both had shifted, the space between you now charged with an electric tension that had been building since the moment he walked into your life.

"You’re everything to me," he continued, his voice growing softer, but more sincere. "And I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry any of this on your own. Let me take care of you, let me be the one to ease your burdens."

The way he spoke, with so much raw emotion and sincerity, made your heart race. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips as he leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming and comforting all at once. You didn’t even realize your body was inching toward his until his lips brushed against yours again, this time with more urgency, more desire.

Wonwoo’s hands gently cupped your face, his touch tender, yet firm as though he wanted to ensure you felt his presence, his affection in every moment. He paused for a brief moment, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"You’re beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, making your heart flutter. He kissed your temple softly, as if you were the most precious thing in his world, and in that moment, you felt it—how real, how deeply he cared.

"Can i, love?" he whispered, his voice low and filled with sincerity, as if asking for your permission, as if giving you the space to decide without any pressure. His eyes searched yours, waiting for your response.

You nodded, your fingers lightly brushing against his shirt, pulling him closer once more. “i always trust you,” you whispered back, your voice filled with both certainty and vulnerability.

The moment lingered, soft and intimate, as if time had slowed around you. The way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours—it all felt so right,

As Wonwoo’s hands began to roam, they found the hem of your shirt and slowly lifted it, exposing your smooth skin beneath. He trailed kisses from your jawline down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Your breathing grew heavier, and you could feel your pulse quicken in anticipation.

Wonwoo's mouth worked its way lower, pausing just above your lace-clad breast. You let out a soft moan as he teased the material with his teeth, pulling the fabric aside to reveal your nipple. His tongue flicked over it, making you gasp and arch your back, pushing yourself further into his touch.

Your hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, and when he was bare-chested before you, you reached up to caress his pecs, feeling his muscles tense under your fingers. Desire coursed through both of you, and you could no longer deny the urgency of your passion.

As Wonwoo's passion continued to build, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you towards the bedroom. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him close the door behind you, ensuring that the two of you were alone in this intimate moment.

He carefully placed you on the soft sheets of the bed before kneeling down next to you. With a tender smile, he began to undress you, removing the final barrier between the two of you. He looked at your body, admiring every curve, before following suit and removing his own clothing.

You lay there, both vulnerable and confident, your gaze fixed on each other's bodies. The desire between you both grew, and he leaned in once more to kiss you, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and finally your breasts, which he took into his mouth one by one, sucking and biting gently.

Your hands roamed over his chest, his abs, feeling every hardened muscle before wrapping around his strong back. You could feel his erection against your thigh, pulsating with need, as he moved further down your body.

As Wonwoo's tongue delved deeper, you let out a soft moan, arching your back to offer more access. "Oh, Wonwoo..." you whispered, your breath hitching as pleasure courses through you.

Feeling your arousal building, he withdrawn, leaving you panting and craving more. "Not yet," he murmured against your ear before moving up your body once more. You squirmed beneath him, your body trembling with need.

Positioning himself at your entrance, he gazed into your eyes, his own filled with a burning desire. "I want to feel you," you plead, your voice husky with want.

He slowly entered you, stretching you with his length, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to move, filling you completely. The sensation of being so intimately connected with him was overwhelming. As he started to pick up the pace, his thrusts became more urgent, more powerful, and both of you were swept away by the tide of passion.

"Wonwoo!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as he sets a rhythm. "Don't stop..." you mumbled, lost in the euphoric connection between the two of you.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the two of you locked in this intimate dance. Wonwoo's breath caught, his movements growing more urgent. "I can't... I can't hold back," he grits out.

In the heat of the moment, you thrown your head back, your body tightening. "Me neither... I'm coming!" you gasped, and with that, pleasure overtook you, sending shivers through your entire being. Feeling you clenched around him, Wonwoo followed moments later, his hot release filling you completely.

Collapsing on top of you, he held you close, his heartbeat pounding against your chest. The room was still, the only sound the two of you catching your breath, your bodies tangled and spent.

You could feel the warmth of his bare skin against yours as you shifted in your sleep, the soft rustle of the sheets under your movements. The bedroom was still dimly lit, the first light of dawn creeping through the curtains, hinting that it was probably around 5 or 6 a.m. There was still plenty of time before you needed to get ready for school, but the comfort of his arms around you made the thought of getting up feel so distant.

His arms tightened around you, pulling your body closer to his. You smiled softly, relishing in the safety and warmth of his embrace.

“You tired?” His voice, soft and hushed in the early morning, broke the silence. You shook your head slowly, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

"Wanna do it again?" His teasing tone was unmistakable, and you could feel the playful glint in his voice. Before you could respond, you slapped his bare chest lightly, a small laugh escaping you, but he was quick to catch your hand, bringing it to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

“You look so pretty waking up in my arms,” Wonwoo murmured, his words a soft caress against your skin. "Can't wait to wake up like this every morning."

You chuckled softly at his words, his hints about marriage becoming more frequent these past few weeks. You had a feeling that soon—maybe sooner than you expected—he’d be down on one knee, asking you for forever. But last night, the conversation had shifted something inside of you. You knew, without a doubt, that you would say yes, even before he could ask.

He had proved it to you, over and over again, that he loved you unconditionally, that you deserved everything he had to give—and more.

Wonwoo’s voice broke the peaceful quiet as he let out a soft chuckle, pulling you from the warmth of the moment. "Chan will be here with breakfast," he said, as if he were casually mentioning the weather.

Before you could respond, Wonwoo pressed a button on his bedside table, and the automatic curtains of his bedroom slid open. The sudden burst of sunlight caught you off guard, and your eyes widened as the room was flooded with golden light. You quickly glanced at the clock beside you, your heart dropping when you saw the time.

It was already 08:54.

"Oh no, I’m late!" you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest. You cursed under your breath, shooting a glare at Wonwoo's automatic blinds. You shot up from the bed, scrambling to get your bearings. "Why didn’t you wake me up?!"

Wonwoo chuckled softly, clearly amused by your sudden rush. He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you with a playful smile. "Relax, love," he said, his voice smooth and calm. "I already called your school. You’re off today. You’re sick."

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You did what?"

"Yep," he replied nonchalantly, his tone unbothered. "You’ve been working too hard lately. I figured you could use a little break."

Your mouth fell open in shock, and you let out a breathless laugh, though it was mixed with a touch of annoyance. "You can’t just call my school and pretend I’m sick! You know I’ll get in trouble for this. We talked about this last night, Jeon Wonwoo!" you protested, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling up inside you.

Wonwoo grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he casually stretched and reached for your hand. "I couldn’t discuss it with you. You were asleep, remember?"

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at his audacity. "You’re unbelievable!" you said, your voice dripping with mock exasperation. You slid out of the bed and grabbed your robe, walking briskly—almost stomping—towards the bathroom. Wonwoo watched you with an amused glint in his eyes, clearly entertained by your reactions.

He leaned back against the pillows with a satisfied grin, knowing full well he had won this round. “Take your time, love,” he called after you. “I’ll be here when you get out.”

You didn’t look back, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter and the way he cared for you—whether you liked it or not—was part of what made him so irresistible.

The grand hall was bathed in a soft, golden light, with chandeliers that seemed to glitter like stars above. Every inch of the room exuded opulence, from the intricate tapestries lining the walls to the marble floors polished to perfection. Floral arrangements in hues of white and gold filled the air with their delicate scent, while the soft murmur of the guests whispered in the background, all waiting for the moment that had been years in the making.

"And now," the officiant said, with a smile, "you may kiss the bride."

Wonwoo could already sense the impending storm. He knew you were going to kill him once the wedding ceremony was over and the two of you had to leave for your honeymoon. The honeymoon you had dreamed of—Ireland, watching the aurora borealis together, indulging in romantic moments while exploring nature. The thought of it made his heart swell with happiness. He loved the idea as much as you did.

But then, Chan, his ever-loyal secretary, had come to him with bad news a week before. Apologetic and flustered, he explained that there were no available tickets for the wedding day. Wonwoo's heart sank. There was no way he could cancel all the bookings he’d meticulously planned for months.

"How could this happen?" Wonwoo asked, frustration seeping into his voice.

Chan looked guilty as he spoke, "I... I forgot to book the tickets, sir."

"Are you kidding me?" Wonwoo muttered under his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to make it work.

Your face was set in a perfect expression of disbelief and annoyance. "You’ve got to be kidding me," you mumbled, turning on your heel to walk away when you saw the jet. Your reaction was the complete opposite of the excitement you had shown during the wedding ceremony.

Wonwoo's heart raced, panicking. He couldn't let you walk away, not when you were this upset. He hurried after you, grabbing your arm to stop you. "Love, I can explain," he said, his voice full of panic. "It was Chan’s fault. He forgot to book the ticket. So this is the only solution. I promise it won’t happen again."

You pulled your arm away, looking at him with disbelief. "How could you blame your secretary for this? He’s worked so hard for you! He’s been running around non-stop because you decided to have the wedding on such short notice."

Wonwoo looked down at his shoes, guilt flashing across his face. "I know... But please, love, they're waiting for us."

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "You're unbelievable!"

Suddenly, with a determined grin, Wonwoo scooped you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly. You gasped in surprise, your breath catching in your throat, but Wonwoo was clearly amused by your reaction.

"Wonwoo, put me down!" you squealed, but he just laughed, his arms holding you tightly as he walked toward the private jet.

"No way, love," he teased, his voice soft but playful. "You're not getting away from me that easily."

You let out a sigh of exasperation, but there was no denying the flutter in your chest at the sight of Wonwoo's playful grin. He was carrying you like it was nothing, as though the private jet was just a small obstacle on the way to your honeymoon. As he approached the steps leading up to the jet, you finally stopped resisting, your body melting into his embrace, realizing that no matter how much you wanted to be annoyed, you couldn't stay mad at him for long.

"You're lucky you're cute," you muttered, resting your head on his shoulder as he gently placed you down on the stairs of the jet.

Wonwoo chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I know. And I plan to keep it that way, especially when you’re around."

With one last playful look, he took your hand, leading you inside. The sleek interior of the jet was luxurious, the setting perfect for the adventure that awaited you both. The two of you settled in, the soft hum of the engines beginning to fill the cabin as the jet prepared for takeoff. It wasn’t the trip you had imagined—far from it—but as you sat next to Wonwoo, feeling the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours, the day’s earlier frustrations seemed to melt away.

You both settled back into your seats, the tension lifting as you exchanged soft smiles, your heart finally feeling at ease. The world outside the windows blurred as the jet soared higher into the sky, heading for a destination that was just the beginning of something beautiful.

After a while, Wonwoo leaned over, his lips brushing softly against your ear as he whispered, "We’re going to make unforgettable memories together, love. I promise you, this is just the start."

You smiled, your heart swelling with the truth in his words. No matter the bumps in the road or the surprises along the way, this was the man you loved. And with him, you were ready to face whatever came next.

"With you, Wonwoo," you whispered back, "I’m ready for anything."

As the private jet glided through the sky, the two of you sat side by side, hand in hand, knowing that this was just the beginning of your forever together.

311 notes · View notes

mattnott · 19 hours ago

Text

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in wich your boyfriend thinks the best way to spice up the relationship is by playing hide and seek. WORDS. 4.7K+. english is not my first language. N/A. literally have no fucking idea, i was having a mental breakdown and this came out.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, knife play, kinda mean!mattheo, porn w//plot, aged up characters, rough sex, established relationship, unprotected pnv, hard chocking, swearing, ass slapping, licking, making out, blood kink.

masterlist -> navigation -> mattheo masterlist

Being satisfied.

Mattheo was sure that he was not asking for too much. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself over and over again for the last few weeks, but lately, satisfaction seemed out of reach—almost like an impossibility—and no matter how hard he tried, a fucked up emptiness was still there, tattooed on his very being as the control flipped down his fingers.

It was maddening. Absolutely maddening. He was certain he was losing control of his own body, of his mind, and just that thought alone made him feel nauseous; he felt like someone was twisting his stomach, slowly and painfully; and that wasn’t him. Being fucking miserable like this? That had never been him.

He was Mattheo Riddle, for fuck’s sake.

He never lost control; he thrived on it—he was the fucking embodiment of control. He controlled himself, his actions, and, most importantly, everything around him: Quidditch strategies, his routines, his grades, but above all, his relationships and everyone around him. But lately, everything felt off...vague, as if everything he had carefully built was slipping away, leaving him exposed and raw.

He felt like a wreck, in every sense of the word.

And the worst part? It wasn’t just affecting him anymore; the worst part was that it had started to affect his relationship with you. You, the only person he genuinely gave a shit about, the only person who mattered to him, the only person he couldn’t let slip away. That was the fucking problem.

In the beginning, everything was perfect, so goddamn perfect that sometimes he was fucking terrified to wake up and find out it had all been a dream, a goddamn illusion that his own mind created to punish him. The truth was that being with you was like a goddamn drug—in the best, most fucked-up way. It was addictive, intoxicating, and never lost its thrill.

The way your bodies fit together, how you let yourself get lost in the things he did to you, how he knew your body by the tip of his tongue—it was all fucking exciting. And you? You never dared to say no to anything he asked, no matter how sick it sounded; that was what made him want to keep you locked up, all to himself.

And for a while it was all he needed.

But Mattheo wasn’t the type of man who loved gently or held himself back when it came to relationships. He never knew how to give just a piece of himself, and in return, he took everything from you, consuming you in ways that were almost humanly impossible. He always wanted to possess, to have power, and with you, it was no exception.

No matter how much he tried to suppress it, the need to control you, to use you, was becoming unbearable, and Mattheo was sure that it was turning into physical pain; he could feel it in his ribs.

And besides all that bullshit, lately, the little control he had over you felt more fragile than ever, as if something had shifted in a weird way, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it was fucking there, eating him alive, almost destroying his mind and opening his ribs; there was a part of you he could no longer reach, no matter how hard he tried, and it was driving him insane—he was furious with himself, and a twisted part of him was even furious with you.

He knew it didn’t make any sense, at least not to him. After all, he still fucked you in every way he could—rough, slow, and sometimes, when he was feeling nice enough, even with a strange kind of tenderness, Mattheo fucked you until you were both so drenched in sweat that your bodies stuck together like glue. But even that wasn’t enough.

He was not satisfied.

It wasn't that being with you was horrible... fuck no! He would never say that, because he knew that if he did, it would only be a lie to hide the sexual frustration that was haunting him like a ghost. And if there was one thing he definitely wasn't, it was a liar. Besides, you were the only girl he dared to touch more than once, the only one he didn't toss aside like the others, the only one he fucking surrendered himself to—not just to blow off steam.

He knew he couldn’t be with anyone else but you. But lately, something was missing, something different, something more obscene, something more…him.

Mattheo couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to spice up the things in your relationship; he was done with the same shitty routine over and over again—he needed to push the limits of what he had with you, to push you further, to fuck you even better than he ever did.

He needed to fight for the relationship, fight for you.

It was then that an idea popped into his mind. A game. Something as twisted as it was intimate, something that would push the two of you into new territory that would push him toward the satisfaction he so desperately sought.

Hide and seek.

He knew it was probably a sick idea, a really sick one, but the way the thought consumed him, how it gripped his mind, and how the mere idea of hunting you down in a dark room with nothing but his filthy thoughts and a knife made his cock throb was impossible to ignore, especially after weeks feeling like shit, like a failure as a partner.

The truth was, Mattheo couldn’t stop himself—not when every nerve in his body burned with the desperate need for the satisfaction he craved and not when he finally found a way to solve his problems. He couldn't let you slip away, not when you were the only one who ever mattered to him.

He’d spent way too much time drowning in frustration, feeling his satisfied façade crumble, feeling the control he valued so much slip through his fingers like fucking sand.

But this—this fucked-up, twisted game—was how he’d take it all back. How he’d finally feel in control again, finallyfeel like he had all of you exactly where, to him, you truly belonged. To remind himself that you were still his—to wreck, to ruin, and to use however he wanted.

And that thought alone sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins.

So Mattheo approached you with caution, whispering sweet but fake words to tempt you, tracing his thumb along your thigh, offering you a false sense of security that he was waiting to take away. Looking into your eyes, almost pleading, begging for the uncertainty to finally leave them.

He offered you space to process what he wanted, making you think you had a choice, even though he knew he had already pushed you toward a thing you couldn’t refuse. And when you finally said yes, satisfaction washed over him, and he wasted no time pushing you into the game.

The small room was dim, with the only light coming through the large crystal windows. The setting afternoon sun streamed through the colored glass, casting soft, vibrant hues over the dusty old furniture and the cold stone walls. Strangely, it brought an odd sense of comfort and freedom to a space that otherwise felt heavy and stifling with what was happening inside.

The room was silent except for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his slow, deliberate steps. Somewhere in the darkened corners, Mattheo moved like a shadow, his fingers wrapped around the cool silver of the knife, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light.

He wasn’t rushing—no, he wanted to savor this, to draw it out for as long as possible, and he knew that even if you couldn’t see him, a part of you could feel him and listen to his footsteps.

You were in the other corner of the room, your back pressed against the edge of an old desk, the cool wood biting your skin through the fabric of your shirt, your breath was shallow as you tried to stay as quiet as possible, determined not to catch Mattheo’s attention. The dim light filtering through the colored glass windows barely reached you; keeping you concealed in the shadows was the only advantage in this twisted game.

Every inch of your body felt wired, tense, your pulse quickening with each passing second, yet you could feel your pussy starting to get wet with anticipation of being haunted.

“Sweetheart.” He called in a purr, his voice smooth, slicing through the silence. It was the first word he’d spoken since he’d given you time to hide and entered the room, and you couldn’t help but press your hand to your chest, trying to steady your racing heart. “You’re hiding well... it’s almost cute, really.” Mattheo’s words were filled with mockery as he moved his head around, his eyes scanning the shadows of the room, searching for any sign of you.

He stopped near a bookshelf, casually flipping the knife between his fingers, the blade gliding effortlessly with every lazy movement. His dark brown eyes scanned the room, and he held his breath, savoring the familiar, sweet, and addictive scent of your perfume that filled his nostrils, quickening his pulse and making his heart skip a beat with anticipation. Yet, the scent was still too faint, and he knew you were still far from him.

And that made him even more eager to play, to catch you and use you as he wanted.

He tilted his head slightly, straining to catch any sound, but the room remained silent, save for the faint rustle of old books settling on the shelves and the distant hum of the castle beyond. Mattheo chuckled to himself. You were good—too fucking good for your own good. He couldn’t hear a thing. No sharp inhale, no shift of weight against the wooden floor, nothing to give you away. And he couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation of pride.

A slow, cruel smirk curled at the corners of his lips as he tapped the flat side of the knife against his palm, the sound barely breaking the silence of the stone walls. You were making this interesting—dragging it out, pushing him to the edge, making him hard, testing his patience. But patience? That was never his strong suit, and it never would be.

Mattheo’s footsteps echoed faintly as he began to move again, the knife still shifting between his fingers with that unnerving ease. His eyes scanned the room attentively, every inch of it, studying the shadows, waiting for the slightest slip—a twitch, a breath, the faintest shift in the air that would give you away.

But nothing did.

You held your breath even longer, your hand pressing against your chest as your fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt in a futile attempt to steady yourself against the nervousness that made your heart pound violently against your ribs—and the need now pulsing deep in your now wet cunt.

“Are you trembling right now, aren’t you?” His voice was a quiet hiss, the words almost dripping with a twisted amusement that sent another shiver down your spine. You could hear the satisfaction in his tone, his words dripping with that familiar sense of control. “Holding your breath? Hoping I’ll just walk right past you?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the voice in your head cursed as you felt his footsteps drawing closer, desperately trying to control the frantic pulse of your throbbing cunt.

Despite Mattheo’s footsteps, the room felt too still, too quiet—like you were holding onto every second, every inch of space between you and him. But he still could smell you, your scent growing stronger with every passing moment, enough to make his pants tighten around his cock, and then he finally could hear the faintest breath that made his blood burn with desire through his veins, and he wanted nothing more than to push you, to see you crack, to take this game further until you bleed.

His hand clenched tighter around the knife, the grip intensifying as he took another step, shaking his head violently to refocus on the task… breaking you? Well, that could come later.

He was going to make sure of it.

Your breathing quickened with the adrenaline, your heart pounding violently against your ribs as his footsteps grew louder, the vicious scent of his cologne intensifying with his proximity. You gripped the fabric of your skirt between your trembling fingers in a futile attempt to calm your nerves and to stop the excitement that was now dripping between your legs, hardening your nipples.

“Come on, sweetheart, I know you’re close; I can feel it.” Mattheo’s voice came out sweet, and you knew that was the exact opposite of the intentions that had him searching for you so eagerly. “You’re really making me work for it, huh?” He asked, gently squeezing the knife in his palm, the weak lights of the room casting the shadow of the metal on the wall in front of you. “Cute.”

You cringed at the falsely sweet tone his voice carried as you tried to hold your breath even tighter, bringing your trembling knees to your chest in a nearly stupid effort to stop your pussy from growing even wetter at the sound of his manipulative words.

Mattheo stopped suddenly, his brown eyes flicking across the big dark room, narrowing slightly as they scanning every corner for any sign of you. His fingers toyed with the knife, the blade catching the light as he stood still, trying to hear even the smallest sound.

He could feel the impatience growing, clawing at him, but it didn’t dull the ache in his cock—in fact, it only made him harder. The thrill of catching you, of fucking you into the oblivion, made the excitement burn even more.

“Don’t make me wait any longer, love,” he said again, his voice rougher than before, almost like a threat. “The longer you make me wait, the worse it’s going to be for you.” He chuckled low, sending a shiver down your spine, and your heart raced even faster than it already was.

You glanced up at the ceiling, noticing how his shadow was growing bigger and bigger by the second. He was getting closer to your hiding spot, making you instinctively rub your legs together in a desperate attempt to ease the heat growing between them.

Mattheo cursed under his breath, his impatience growing as he scanned the room once more, searching for any shadow that might betray your position.

When no sign appeared, he sighed again, this time with a touch of irritation; the silence was starting to get to him, but it didn’t last long, because a wicked idea flashed in his mind, and a cruel smirk curled on his lips, and in an instant, he slammed his foot against the wooden floor with all his strength.

The loud sound of his foot hitting the floor echoed through the empty room, so sharp against the silence that without thinking, without noticing, you jumped back, slamming into the table behind you. The movement was small but enough to knock over a stack of books, which crashed to the floor, the noise even louder than his footsteps.

You couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath, realizing the mistake you’d made, your heart nearly leaping out of your throat.

Mattheo stopped instantly, a low chuckle slipping from his lips as he tightened his grip on the knife in his hand. His eyes locked onto the spot where the books had fallen, and a slow, malicious smirk spread across his face. He tilted his head mockingly, his gaze glinting with amusement when he caught a small glimpse of your head peeking out from behind the desk where you were hiding from him.

Without giving you a chance to run, he moved toward you swiftly, his heavy footsteps echoing off the walls, blending with your shallow, frantic breathing, and before you could even blink, Mattheo was right there, standing over you like you were nothing but his goddamn prey.

“Finally found you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery, the way he said “sweetheart” making it clear he was loving every second of your discomfort. His eyes never left yours, and he could feel his pants tightening around his hard cock as the panic in your eyes grew.

Oh, there it was—the excitement he had been craving for so long.

You swallowed hard, your hand gripping the edge of the table you were leaning on for support, trying to ignore the dampness already soaking through your panties and the way his eyes were still locked onto your body, his fingers casually playing with the small knife in his hand as you stood in front of him.

“Yeah, i guess you found me” you said, your voice shaky as you tried to steady your shaky legs. “Satisfied now?” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, though all it did was make his twisted smirk grow even wider.

Mattheo took a final step, standing right in front of you. His free hand landed on your hip, his grip so tight it would surely leave a bruise. The coldness of his palm against your warm skin made you shiver involuntarily, and he couldn’t help but let out a low, knowing laugh at the way your body reacted to him, your pussy tightening at the rough, throaty noise.

It was always like this, always—you trying to hold your ground while your trembling legs threatened to give out, even if you tried to resist the urge to drop to your knees right in front of him, you trying to challenge him, when in reality, all you wanted was to have your wet pussy filled with his big cock and feel him pump you full of his cum.

The same thing happened each and every time, regardless of how you two fucked, and he felt dumb for ever thinking that this time would be different.

Still, he wasn't complaining, since it made the game much more entertaining.

“No, not yet,” he whispered, leaning forward, your faces so close that his warm breath brushed against your skin. His free hand massaged your hip gently, his thumb stroking your skin in a way that was both mocking and soft, and you pressed your thighs together, trying to control the throbbing between your legs.

Mattheo’s hand left your hip, his fingers tangling in your hair with a strength that had you gasping in surprise as he yanked your face closer to his.

His breath mingled with yours—hot—and you could feel the press of his hard cock against you; still, he kept his lips just out of reach, teasing you. “Be a good girl,” he whispered, the words almost a command. “Show me your tongue, love.”

“And why?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your composure, but it was impossible. The air between you thickened as he pushed his hips forward, his clothed cock pressing against the top of your panties, making you whimper.

“Show. Me. Your. Fucking. Tongue.” He repeated like a command, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pulled you even closer. The grip on your scalp made a sudden soft escape your lips—somewhere between a moan and a whimper. “Now.” He ordered, and you quickly opened your mouth, your wet muscle sliding out to meet him, and you felt his cock throbbing harder against you.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised you almost softly, and before you could react, he stuck his own tongue out of his mouth and gave yours a slow, tentative lick, making you shiver and whine with the contact, and then before you could even open your eyes again, he crashed his lips against yours in a heated kiss, full of teeth and tongue.

You moan into the kiss, feeling your tongues roughly clash against each other, teeth hitting with an brutal force as you taste each other’s lips, almost as if you were claiming again a territory that had belonged to both of you for a long time.

Your lips moved against each other in a frantic and aggressive rhythm, your tongues so intertwined that neither of you could tell where one ended and the other began. Mattheo let out a low groan, his cock growing even harder as the kiss deepened, and his grip on your hair loosened just enough for his hand to slide under your skirt.

He grabbed the flesh of your ass tightly, squeezing it tightly with a strength that would surely leave a mark before yanking you forward, grinding your hips against his, forcing you to feel the full weight of his hard cock pressing against you.

“Such a good fucking ass,” Mattheo growled against your mouth, fingers digging harshly into your ass as he thrust his hips into you, the rough friction making you whimper against his lips, your cunt dripping from the pressure alone.

He could already feel his damn frustration fading away, little by little.

His hand tightened on your ass, pulling you closer, making you gasp at the sudden pressure. Before you could react with another whine, you felt his teeth bite your bottom lip, breaking the skin enough to make the taste of your blood linger in both of your tongues. He grunted in satisfaction, savoring the familiar taste, and you felt how hard he was pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

Without warning, he slapped your ass sharply, the impact leaving you surprised, a mark of his fingers on your sensitive skin. Almost immediately, he gave another slap, this one softer but still enough for the sting to make you shudder, biting down on your already bloodied lip.

Mattheo moved away from your body a little bit, a wicked smile twisting his lips as he kept just enough distance to leave you yearning for more, wanting him to finally fuck you the way he intended there and then. His pupils were dilated as he looked at you, and you met his gaze, agitated and breathless.

"Mattheo, please!" you pleaded, trying to ignore the pain on your lip, your brow wrinkled slightly due to the lack of friction you were experiencing. Yet, he only laughed, mocking you, finding it amusing that you were nearly as frustrated as he had been previously.

“Oww, are you anxious, sweetheart?” He blinked, pretending innocence, the hand that had been gripping your skin now tucking a stray lock of your messy hair behind your ear in a mockingly sweet gesture. “Poor, poor girl…” he taunted you, his eyes drifting to the small blade in his free hand, anxiously waiting to mark your skin.

He already had the prey; he only needed to cut it.

Mattheo pressed the flat edge of the knife against his palm, his grip tightening as he slowly dragged it down your skin. A shiver raced through you, and you held your breath as the cold, sharp blade grazed your sensitive flesh.

“What you’re trying to do?” you asked, your voice shaky as you watched the knife press harder against your skin.

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed you by the waist and slammed your back against his chest, your feet stumbling to catch up as he dragged you with him. His arm locked around your stomach, keeping you pressed to him, making your head spin, and a soft gasp escaped your bruised lips when you felt his hard cock pressed against your ass.

Mattheo’s grip tightened around your waist, his chest resting against your back as he roughly pushed you into that position, giving him a better view of your ass. Another gasp escaped your lips when you felt his hand slide up to your throat, his fingers tightening around your skin, almost like a reminder of who was in control. Who the fucking prey was.

“Stay fucking still,” he breathed against your ear, his breath hot as he continued to press his clothed hard cock against you, and you obey, trying to ignore the pain of his grip tightening around your neck.

Your pulse hammered under his strong grip, your throat tightening as you swallowed, yet Mattheo only tightened his hold in response, his satisfaction growing with every painful whimper that escaped your lips and every shudder that ran through your already weak legs.

His other hand—the one holding the sharp knife—moved slowly down your stomach, the handle brushing against your skin as he slid the blade lower and lower. Mattheo couldn’t help but smirk even more as he felt your body tremble again and again, his cock pulsing, sensing the way you seemed to shrink back against him.

Mattheo was savoring every second of it, watching you squirm, watching the nerves take over, watching you hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable pain. That was what he wanted, what he needed—to regain control, to own you. You, the one who held his heart in your hands like it was nothing. If he controlled you, you could never hurt him, never break his heart, never crush it with your touch. So, he was just taking the safe option.

Control you before you even realize you were controlling him.

In a swift move, he yanked your skirt and panties down, exposing the soft flesh of your ass even more and your wet folds to the cold air. The sudden vulnerability made your stomach twist in a mix of nervousness and anticipation, but you barely had time to process it before Mattheo thrust one of his knees between your legs, forcing your thighs to open wider, giving him a clear view of your cunt.

“Such a perfect little pussy…” He whispered against your ear, his breath sending goosebumps down your body. “Hands on the table. Now,” he ordered. His hand remained firm on your neck, choking you, his voice dripping with dark mockery, as if he knew exactly what you were feeling. And he did. He knew, and he planned to use it all to his own advantage.

His fingers clenched around your neck more tightly when you hesitated, pressing with such force that you choked slightly—the gesture almost like a silent warning.

"You really think you can disobey me, slut?" He whispered, letting out a dark, dry laugh as he rubbed his covered length on your bare cunt, causing you to whine. “You know better than to piss me the fuck off. Especially when I have a knife in my hand. Don’t fucking test me.”

You followed the command, stifling a moan as his hands tightened around your neck, your shaking hands resting on the wooden surface, your fingers turning white from the pressure.

Mattheo hummed in approval, rocking his hips harder against you, and you instinctively rolled your ass against him, eager for more contact, his grip on your neck loosened just enough for his thumb to caress your jaw—mocking, almost caring.

Then, he finally pressed the cold blade into your ass, and you held your breath, feeling your heart slamming against your ribs.

He muttered, "Stay still," and bit down on your ear. You leaned into him—into the pain—knowing that this would be the closest thing to comfort he’d ever offer you in that moment.

And just when you let yourself relax a little on his grip, the first cut came.

Your eyes snapped shut with the new contact, and you trembled as the pain of your skin being sliced open hit you. Mattheo let out a chuckle, his cock throbbing harder at the sound of your whimpers and the sight of your eager, exposed pussy.

He pressed the blade harder, dragging it slowly and painfully across your skin, cutting through the soft flesh of your ass, still marked by his slaps.

Another shock of pain coursed through your whole body, and you let out a soft whimper, trying to move instinctively. But Mattheo’s grip on your neck only tightened, keeping you locked in place.

He wasn’t going to let you escape, not now that he was so close to getting what he wanted, to the satisfaction he was craving.

“Shhh, it’s just a game. Stay still, or you’ll make it worse.” His fingers tightened around your throat, cutting off your breath enough to make you struggle against his hold. Your head spun, your body fighting for breath, but strangely the adrenaline only turned you on more.

Reluctantly, you gave in, your fingers loosening their grip on the table as you allowed yourself to sink into his hold.

“Just like that, let me take care of you.” His voice dripped with false sweetness, but you let yourself fall for it, ignoring the burning pain in your marked ass as you tried to convince yourself it was worth it.

Mattheo dragged the knife further down, the cold blade scraping roughly over your skin, cutting into you and leaving a trail of blood behind before it finally tore through your flesh. You bit your lip hard, fighting back the scream clawing at your sore throat, your legs instinctively parting, offering him a clearer view of your dripping folds.

This time, it wasn’t just a cut—it was a permanent mark.

“Mine.”

The final stroke completed the “e,” and with each precise cut, you felt the heat of your own blood dripping down the curve of your ass, making your legs tremble more and more. The pain was sharp, but it made your heart race violently against your ribcage in a way you couldn’t explain; and yet his heartbeat mirrored yours, as if, after everything, he had finally regained control over you again.

Mattheo step back slightly, his hand loosening around your neck as he looked at the mess he’d made. He watched as your blood poured down your ass, staining your skin, tracing the deep cuts in thick, red lines. His eyes then moved lower, taking in the sight of your pussy pulsing with need, as if it were calling for him.

Fuck, he wanted to fuck your pussy so bad.

He placed the knife down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, as he felt his cock straining against the zipper of his pants, watching your chest rise and fall, and your nipples pressed against the fabric of your shirt. His hand slid down to your ass, his fingers tracing the bloodstained marks, feeling the warm liquid collect beneath his nails.

Mattheo licked his lips before bringing his fingers to his mouth eagerly, sucking them clean, licking with the taste, savoring the metallic taste, as if, absorbing it as if by magic, your blood would mix with his.

“Your blood tastes so fucking good,” he muttered, sucking harder on his fingers. You blinked slowly, trying to keep the tears from spilling down your cheeks.

After one last slow lick of his fingers, Mattheo holds you again, a groan escaping his throat as he looks at your dripping cunt, and without wasting another second, he freed his hard cock from his pants, and with a single thrust, he slid himself inside your pussy.

“Ah, fuck!” You cried out in surprise as Mattheo's rigid cock entered you without warning, the force of his penetration making you almost sob. Yet instead of pulling back, he drove himself deeper, relishing the way your tight pussy clamped down on his throbbing cock. A low moan rumbled in his chest as he felt the familiar sensation of your inner walls around him.

“Even after all these months, you're still so fucking tight.” Mattheo groaned against your ear, his hips slamming against yours, the brutal force causing the blood pooling in your ass to trickle down and coat his skin. Each thrust pushing him deeper into your cunt, until the head of his cock was almost kissing your cervix, making your tender folds throb with the strange pleasure.

Fuck, he has been begging for this for months. Months begging for control, for satisfaction, and it was finally there; it was finally in his hands.

His hand tightened around your neck, making it hard to breathe, but he didn’t care. He only drove his cock deeper into you, forcing a loud moan from your lips as the pain from the fresh cuts burned through your skin, leaving you no chance to speak, no chance to even gasp his name.

You were almost certain that if he choked you just a little longer, or five more times, maybe even less, you’d be completely out of air—left to die right there with his cock still buried inside you.

But even though you couldn’t say his name or form a single coherent word, that didn’t stop the loud, desperate moans from spilling out of your bruised lips, your cries turning into broken, incoherent pleas as his grip on your throat tightened, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Yeah, just like that—moan like a fucking slut for me,” he breathed against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His large palm slid over your stomach, pressing you even harder against his muscular chest, forcing your fresh cuts to rub painfully against his bare pelvis. The sharp sting made you bite your lip to stifle a cry, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table as another type of pain spread through you.

The pain only pushed you closer to your orgasm.

Mattheo’s grip on your neck tightened, making it almost impossible for you to breathe, let alone moan. His hot breath ghosted over your ear as he fucked your pussy with deep, brutal thrusts, each one so relentless that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow. Yet you didn’t say anything letting him chase what he needed.

“Only letting go of your throat when you fucking come like a bitch, sweetheart.” Mattheo moaned in your ear, his hips fucking you faster, burying himself to the hilt as he felt your walls clenching around his dick, signaling your climax. He knew that his own release was close, but he refused to acknowledge it, determined to push you over the edge first like a sick competition he was playing alone.

With three more thrusts, both you and Mattheo felt your pussy clamp down around his rigid length, your whimpering cries echoing through the room as you came, making him grunt in satisfaction. He finally loosened his grip on your throat, allowing you to gasp in relief, but he didn’t stop. He slammed into you one final time before his release hit him like a wave, his cock pulsing violently, spilling his hot cum deep inside your cunt.

After a moment of silence, Mattheo carefully pulled his cock out of your pussy, his breath still ragged as he watched his cum spill out of your hole, then he gently traced his fingers over the “mine” carved into your skin, brushing the marks softly, almost reverently, as if he was looking at a piece of art. The satisfaction he craved now has a permanent mark on you.

“Are you good now?” you asked softly, feeling the exhaustion take over your features as you tried to steady yourself and keep your eyes open despite the pleasant pain.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on your bruised neck before whispering, “You can say that, sweetheart.”

hate this shit, the smut sucks but the idea is good, bye bye.

thank you to my girl @bucksplum for helping with the last paragraphs, i love you a lot <3

it’s 4 am so if you want to be rude, i will visit you in your nightmares or worse… (tomorrow i might edit better…or not

comments and reblogs are appreciated and help me a lot, so feel free to interact 🫶🏻

#— ; 𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 🧳#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo smut #mattheoxreader #mattheo #mattheo x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys x yn

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wearysparrows · 16 hours ago

Text

Chariot

ao3/masterlist

Summary: Caleb fingers you in his car, but you’re interrupted by a phone call. It doesn’t seem to deter him much, though.

cw: female reader, reader is mc, vaginal fingering, grinding, pseudo-incest, caleb referring to himself as your brother, porn with feelings, light spanking, caleb being talkative because he's caleb, sex while on the phone, Zayne gets caught in the crossfire, not beta read, 5K

“You still act frugal, but your Colonel’s salary must be pretty cushy if this is what you drive.”

You sat, arms crossed, in the passenger’s seat of Caleb’s car. It didn’t fit your childhood image of him at all – freckled skin and a bright smile, hands that were tanned and deft at breathing life back into long dead machinery. Caleb had turned more than one beater into something functional enough to drive you around in. He did it for fun. A friend's car that needed work was somehow always in the lot, or something Caleb had miraculously turned drivable in his precious free time. The black interior of the Lamborghini, with its blue backlighting, felt cold, sterile. This was Colonel Xia’s vehicle, not Caleb’s car. Caleb wouldn’t drive something like this. Not your Caleb. Together, you sat parked in an empty lot, one that overlooked the bustling nighttime lights of Skyhaven below. A dry summer wind buffeted the outside of the car, unable to touch you. Caleb turned his face toward you in the dark, eyes illuminated by the cool lights on the dash. It gave you the impression of light bouncing off the dark, untouched gems of a cave. Far away. A vein that couldn’t be mined.

“It’s not an act, baby. I still am frugal. Besides, my Colonel’s salary lets me spoil you – just like I always wanted to. And the car lets me take you places. You hate it that much?”

His elbow was resting on the console, supporting his weight. His desire to hear the truth of your opinion was evident in his tone. Caleb never wanted you to lie to him, even if it hurt. You dragged the pad of your index finger over his knuckle bones – or rather, the plating that had replaced his knuckle bones – watching as it rose and fell over them. The paneling was scratched here and there, as if it had taken numerous beatings. Things we wouldn’t tell you of. His fingers twitched under your touch. You wondered if it was a reflex, a remnant of when the arm still boasted flesh on its outside. You knew he couldn’t feel the contact. Your heart ached dully for him, filling up the space between your diaphragm and lungs. You would have shared his pain, if you could. You wanted the same pain. The same everything. Two of everything. Always.

“You make it sound like everything you do is for me. It’s not that I hate it. It’s just not you. And there’s this huge divider between us,” you gestured to the console, which was stupidly large, and felt like a wall to keep Caleb out. Or maybe one to keep you in.

“Besides, if I said I hated it, would you really get rid of it?”

Caleb reached for your hand that was playing with his fingers, and interlaced yours with his own. The metallic chill of his touch made gooseflesh rise along the skin of your forearm. The certainty of its steel had become something that grounded you.

“It doesn’t just sound that way. It is that way.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment before continuing, holding your hand, a peculiar stillness over him, as if considering the latter half of your statement.

“If it’s the distance that bothers you,” his thumb stroked the top of your hand, tracing the valleys between your metacarpals.

“We can close it. You just have to give me the OK.”

With how Caleb had been acting after his return, you didn’t doubt the seriousness of his statement. When you came too close, he embraced you, but warned you he wouldn’t let you off the hook if you kept going – even if you claimed it was only on a whim. Your hands could only roam so far.

I can’t promise I’ll keep my cool whenever you do that. So don’t go any further.

You wanted to see Caleb lose his cool. You wanted to see it again.

“OK, Colonel. Enlighten me. How will you close this big distance between us in your fancy car?”

You only had a moment to catch the wry smile that crossed over Caleb’s face before you were suddenly being lifted from your seat, weightless, the blue fractals of his evol reflecting in the lights from the dash. Its sound was all too familiar, a low hum, like the air was alive with its energy. An involuntary sound of surprise escaped you, and you were deposited neatly astride Caleb’s lap. While he had been commandeering the very gravity around your body, defying laws that everyone else had to adhere to, he had adjusted the back of his seat so he was leaning back, giving you more clearance to sit on top of him. Your skirt had hiked up around your thighs, and Caleb adjusted it back down your legs, eyes still on your face. His fingers against your skin sent hot energy skittering down your spine. You wanted them inside you, all over you.

“We’ve closed the distance. Physically speaking, anyway.”

His tone was lighthearted, but laced with something else you couldn’t quite place. Not quite hope. Closer to resignation. His hands hovered around your calves, like he couldn’t decide on where to put them, before landing on the lower half of your thighs. Both big. One warm, one cold.

“I like the car a bit better from this angle. Though I’m still not wholly convinced.”

You looked into his face as you spoke, ignoring the interior of the car. He did look good from this angle, underneath you. He looked good from any angle. There was a reason he was unfathomably popular growing up. He seemed to have shed all of it, caging himself in his singular need for your affection. You reached out to his face, and pinched his nose between your index finger and thumb. He scrunched his face up in response, wiggling his nose, before you let him go.

“What, you’re not satisfied with my nose, either? I’m not sure I can replace it as easily as the car, pipsqueak.”

His fingers played with the hem of your skirt, slipping underneath it. His thumbs stroked your bare skin. Forbidden heat clawed its way into your stomach. You gave him an excuse for wanting to touch his face, to make it yours.

“I’m not dissatisfied with it. I just own the air.”

Caleb paused, and a little smile replaced his curious look. His eyes crinkled up at the corners. His gaze on yours was full of a barely restrained burning intensity.

“You own me, too.”

His casual admission of ownership left you unable to find words. Your skin prickled where the calloused pads of his fingers touched your bare skin. It was too much, not enough. He was always toeing the line, testing the waters, pulling away when he saw any hint of indecision on your face. You passed your hand over the dog tags that sat against his chest, and they clinked softly under your touch. Cold, like his right hand on your leg. You had insisted he wear it in its true form, without the false skin, and he had readily complied, despite his discomfort. You preferred his true self, even if he didn’t. Your Caleb was perfectly flawed. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers as you tangled them in his necklace. He spoke gently, in that tone colored with nostalgia he often used when he recalled memories of your shared childhood – both the good and the bad.

“You know, when you were really little, you saw a drawing of Apollo driving his chariot of the sun across the sky in a picture book I was reading to you. You asked me if I’d be able to do the same one day, when I could fly. If I could pull the sun across the sky, led by white horses. I told you I’d do my best to live up to your image of me. So I’ve got all kinds of chariots for you. This is just one. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you another. Just tell me what kind you want.”

You heard the ring of your brother’s voice, the boy you had grown up with. The one who had taken you to the arcade, paid with his allowance. He cheated with his evol to win you toys when he couldn’t win by honest means.

Just tell me which one you want, and I’ll get it for you. I’ll get them all.

You studied Caleb’s earnest face in the dim light. The soft swoop of his hair over his brow, which cast dark shadows on his eyes that betrayed his depth of feeling, and kept it locked tight, all at once. The perfect slope of his nose, freckles given by the kiss of the sun. His full lips, chapped and bitten. Even in the heaviness of the night, he was still somehow radiant. The dark space of the car couldn’t contain him. You felt yourself soften towards him, your earlier irritation at his show of being the Colonel melting under his true light.

“I guess being the Colonel of the Far Space Fleet is about as close as you can get to driving the sun across the sky. In the modern day, anyway.”

Caleb chuckled, a soft, boyish exhale of air. He looked up at you with adoration so clear that it made something twist hotly in your chest. It was so different from the face he had worn the first time you had seen him again. That horrible mask of indifference. That damned uniform. So divorced from the image of your Caleb that you had doubted it was really him. But it was him. A side he had never shown to you. The two Calebs spread each other's gore across the sky, curling and reaching as blood did in water.

“That almost sounded like a compliment, pretty girl. Is the sun going to rise in the west tomorrow?”

Your mind conjured the image of Caleb lashing the sun across the sky in the west, forcing it to act the opposite of its nature. If anyone could do it – it was Caleb. Nothing seemed beyond him, even now. He had come back from the dead, after all. The cosmos no longer seemed such a tall order. Not even stars could return from the land of the departed. They only left black holes behind in their wake. You fanned one hand thoughtfully across his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It quickened, then stilled, then quickened again.

“I guess that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

Caleb grinned in response to your question, a real smile, showing you his rows of white teeth. He had canines that were just slightly longer than usual, one of which was just a little crooked. You had poked at them with your fingertips as a child, pressing them deeply into your skin, and watched the marks they left with unbridled curiosity. The pain was a kind you liked, because it had come from him. He had let you explore his mouth with your fingers, his tongue chasing behind them. He had done the same to you. Once, he had stroked the back of your tongue a little too hard, and you gagged on his fingers. His eyes had gone wide, and the game had ended when Caleb disappeared in his room for the rest of the day, leaving you wondering what you had done wrong.

You wanted to lick the inside of his mouth, to press your tongue against his. The direction of your gaze didn’t go unnoticed.

“Interested in my mouth?”

His hand rose to your face, thumb parting your lips, just like he used to. You licked at it with the flat of your tongue, and heard him inhale sharply through his nose in response.

“Yeah. It looks much better when you’re not talking so much, though.”

Caleb pulled you down to him, so that you were chest to chest. His voice was soft and sweet in your ear. He was hard underneath you. He had been for some time. You had both been ignoring it. It was the standard between you, something that was never discussed. It just was.

“Really? But I was gettin’ the impression you liked talking to me. You started calling me every day, again. You text me all the time, too. You even send me cute pictures of yourself. I especially liked the one where–”

You put a hand over his mouth, not wanting to hear him tell the truth of how you had teased him over text. Your elbow was resting on his chest in order to do so, and his dog tags dug painfully into the bones of your arm.

“Shut up, Caleb.”

His voice was muffled from behind your hand. You could feel the natural wetness of his breath against the skin of your palm as he spoke.

“Do you really want me to? Or are you just sayin’ that because you’re embarrassed? It’s just me. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You heard the unspoken words behind his statement. Caleb had already seen every part of you. He had seen more of you than people who had been inside of you. He had wiped your tears, your snot, your vomit. Your blood. None of it fazed him. He wanted it. You sat back so that you were sitting on his thighs. Your hands hovered over his belt, tugging on it, but not undoing it. Caleb watched, gaze snapping between your hands and your face. Even in the low light, you could see the new flush that colored his ears and cheeks.

“You’re making me want to push my luck, baby. Is this a test of my self control?”

You stuck your thumb underneath the portion of his belt that was held down by the buckle.

“And if it is?”

Caleb took a breath through his mouth, and his words came out a strained rasp.

“Then I’d ask if you want me to pass with flying colors,”

His hand wrapped a firm grip around your wrist, one you couldn’t deny, and guided it to press against his cock through his cargos. Even through the layers of fabric, he felt so impossibly warm.

“Or fail miserably. ”

You felt yourself warm from your chest, head becoming so hot so quickly that you felt a wave of lightheadedness. You had seen and felt Caleb hard under your eyes and ass many times – but he had never once made a move to acknowledge it. Seeing your hand against the outline of him sent a new kind thrill racing through you. You had imagined touching him like this more times than you could count. Putting him in your mouth. Responding to his interest. But you couldn’t, then. Not if he didn’t acknowledge his want. Now, things were different. Caleb wasn’t just a boy anymore. He wasn’t the king of the playground, the star of his highschool basketball team, nor the Valedictorian of his DAA class. He was a man. A man who wanted you. Openly.

“I’d like to see you fail at something, for once.”

You removed your hand from his grip, prying his fingers from your wrist, and worked his belt buckle open. The jingle of the metal suddenly seemed ridiculously loud in the small space of the car’s interior to your ears. When it was free, you pulled his zipper down, down. Your fingers felt strange, weak. Like you couldn’t quite get enough power in them to do what you wanted to do. The zipper caught, more than once. You heard Caleb’s breaths coming quickly through his nose, and felt more than saw the heat of his gaze on you as you worked. He made no motion to assist you – either enjoying your struggle or holding himself back – you couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was both.

Caleb’s hands were around your waist, then, and he lifted you back into his lap, setting you squarely over his cock. The only barrier between you was that of your underwear and his boxers. He had shucked his jeans further down his legs with his evol. His grip on your waist was so tight that it was nearly painful, pressing into your bones, and he used it as leverage to roll his hips up into yours. Being with him like this – it was surreal. So much familiar, and so much was so strange. Like a shared dream. There was no hiding how wet you were when you pressed up against him like this. His eyes looked so dark that they were nearly black, the deep lilac of them nearly erased by his pupils. His thumbs lifted the hem of your skirt, hiking it up over your hips, and he looked down between your legs for the first time, as if he was finally given permission.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

You felt him twitch underneath you. Once, twice.

“Are these the ones I bought for you?”

Your mind, having been emptied of everything except for the feeling of his newfound closeness, took a moment to recall what he was talking about. You looked down at the place where he was touching you, thumbs digging pleasantly into the muscles of your hips. It was, in fact, not the usual article. Being a hunter, it wasn’t exactly comfortable to wear anything that was less than practical most of the time. But today was your day off – and you had opted to change into a pair that Caleb had supplied in the room he had given you at his house. (At the time, you had tried not to let your mind wander as to why he had supplied so many pairs in both your size and the brands you liked. But you knew Caleb. You had your suspicions – just more things you didn’t acknowledge.) You managed a nod. You hardly managed to feel embarrassed about it, though. He made it so easy to do as he wanted, so comfortable. Even when you were still so angry with him – because everything he did benefitted you.

Caleb keened in response, a low whine in his throat, and the flat of his palm suddenly met your ass with a soft smack. The feeling went straight between your legs. It was something you hadn’t even known you wanted from him. Now, you suddenly wanted more.

“You’re so cute. Lift up. Hold yourself over me.”

You did as he asked, too caught in the heat of the moment to argue, bracing yourself by gripping the sides of the driver's seat, hovering over him with your knees on either side of his lap. You were dimly aware that he could have lifted you with his evol, but he was making you work for it, instead. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but any reservations you had were quickly forgotten when you felt Caleb’s hands drift up the back of your thighs. He squeezed your ass, and smacked it again, like he just couldn’t help himself. It was harder than the first time, and stung more with the impression from the first still smarting. Your body tensed up all over in reaction to the impact, your breath leaving you through slightly parted lips.

“That’s my good girl.”

Before you could voice any kind of response to his praise, he was pulling your underwear to the side, his fingers finding you slick and ready for him. One and then two were inside you, giving you hardly any time to prepare or adjust. He was so eager. It was hard to believe the wet sounds were coming from his fingers inside of you. You shifted your hips back against his hand. Caleb was breathing open-mouthed underneath you, eyes laser focused on your face, watching your responses, drinking them in. His fingers were so much longer than your own, and touched you in places you couldn’t feel without him.

“I’m inside of you, baby. Holy shit. You’re so wet. I’m the only one you get like this for, right? No one else but me. C’mon, tell me.”

It was hard to formulate a coherent thought when he was giving his all to thoroughly fucking you open with his fingers. You opened your mouth, willing at least the admittance of the truth to come out. Yes, he was the only one. Even when you had been with other men, you had searched for Caleb in the downturn of their eyes, in the largeness in their build, in the freckles on their faces, in the softness of their hair. You had never wanted anyone else. No one else could get you this worked up with just a few words and a simple touch. Caleb was the only one who aroused such strong emotion in you – anger, hatred, arousal. Love.

Just as you found your voice in the depths of your throat, the sound of your phone ringing from the console where you had placed it rudely interrupted. It was the same ringtone Caleb had chosen for you years ago, when he had been fiddling with your phone without permission, messing with your settings. After he had died, you hadn’t the heart to change it. It would have been like erasing one of his last impacts on your life. Caleb’s fingers inside you hardly paused, and you watched, stupefied, as his evol brought your phone towards you. You both looked at the caller ID at the same time.

Zayne’s name illuminated the screen.

You saw a strange expression flicker over Caleb’s face as you turned back to him, before he schooled it into an easy smile. He pressed his fingers inside of you, as deep as they would go.

“Answer it.”

You gawked at him. His fingers curled inside of you. There was no way you could answer the phone right now. Let alone to talk to your doctor, your childhood friend. Why did he have to choose now, of all times, to call? Zayne never called. Why now?

“Caleb–”

He shook his head, eyes firm.

“If you won’t, I will. Put it on speaker.”

His voice was hard. It was the same one he used on you when you were kids, when you knew you had no other choice but to obey him. Usually for your own good. You were still hovering over Caleb’s body, and your arms were beginning to ache with the effort of holding yourself up. You pressed answer, and Caleb’s evol oh-so-kindly held the phone up to your face. Zayne’s voice came from the other end of the line, distant but palpable with underlying concern, even in his singular word.

“Hello?”

You did your best to collect yourself, while Caleb seemed to pay your struggle no mind. He only worked to bring you closer to the edge. Your thighs began to shake, your muscles protesting the position.

“Zayne? Is everything okay?”

Your voice wavered, but you managed. Caleb palmed himself with his right hand as you spoke, a loud shuffling of fabric.

“Everything’s alright. I saw you were in Skyhaven – and in a fairly isolated area. I…was concerned.”

He sounded like he was choosing his words carefully, not asking you to reveal too much, nor revealing much about his own intentions. You were mid-wondering how the fuck Zanye knew where you were and why he had to call now, of all times, when you were at your worst, when it came back to you. You had shared your location with him when you had commandeered his unique skill set for an investigation just some weeks prior, deep into the mountains. You must have forgotten to turn it off. You didn’t have time to wonder why he was checking it after the fact. Guilt threatened to creep behind your eyes. You swallowed it away before answering.

“I’m…okay. I’m with a friend.”

Caleb’s movements inside of you became punishing in response to your words, pushing in and out, his thumb working your sensitive nerves. He smacked your ass again, and it was loud. You knew by the way he was acting that he wanted Zayne to hear what was happening. They weren’t exactly rivals during childhood – but Caleb had certainly seemed to see it that way. He made no effort to dampen the sounds he was eliciting from your body, not the slap of your skin, nor the wetness between your legs. You corrected yourself, hoping to soothe his anxieties, and implore him to give your body reprieve while you were on the damn phone.

“I mean – I’m with Caleb.”

He was smiling underneath you, looking all too pleased with himself at your amendment. He cupped your breast through your shirt, squeezing it, rolling his fingers over the soft flesh there. His scent was everywhere around you. Clean laundry. A new day. Summer sun on skin. Freshly trimmed wheatgrass. It stuck in your throat pleasantly.

Zayne was quiet for a long moment.

“Caleb? Your brother, Caleb?”

The reminder of just whose fingers were inside you caused you to clench around Caleb’s fingers in response. There was a flurry of movement, and Caleb shoved his boxers down without warning. You heard his cock slap heavily against his stomach as it sprang free. His fingers came out from inside of you, and one hand forced your hips down so that you were sitting directly on his cock, your underwear still pushed to the side. He wasn’t inside of you – just slipping wetly in between your legs. The other hand forced your head close to his mouth, fisting in the back of your hair, tugging. Your scalp prickled with pinpoints of lovely pain. His voice just above a harsh whisper in your ear.

“That’s right. I’m your fucking brother. Are you going to tell him what you’re doing with your brother right now?”

Caleb repeated the word 'brother' with such vitriol that it was practically a snarl, rather than a word. The phone was still held aloft next to your face.

“Y-yeah. My brother, Caleb. I’ll explain later, Zayne. I gotta…gotta go.”

There was another excruciatingly long silence. You would apologize later. Profusely. With excuses.

“Alright. As long as you’re safe.”

Zayne sounded wholly unconvinced, and like he wanted to say something more, but stopped himself short.

“Yeah.”

The phone dropped back onto the console with a dull thud, and you prayed upon every star that would listen Zayne had hung up of his own accord. Caleb dragged your face to his by your hair, his lips and teeth clacking into yours. He licked at the roof of your mouth, sucked your tongue, bit at your lips. Zayne’s words had set Caleb off, and his unresolved energy was practically radiating off of him in droves. His hand was on you again, pleasuring you, while bracing you by the hips with his other, sliding you up and down the length of his cock with barely controlled ardor. Your orgasm was upon you only seconds later, the anxiety of the phone call, the intensity of the situation, and the stimulation from both his cock and fingers were enough to crest you over the edge with a shuddering breath, inhaling the air from Caleb’s mouth into yours, the sweet taste of his breath your new reality.

Your arms finally gave up their valiant effort of holding you above Caleb, and you collapsed on top of him. His arms were instantly around you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. He came from rutting against you with a catch of his breath in his throat and a stuttering groan, and you felt the pulses of his orgasm between you, his spill hot against your skin. The heave of his chest lifted you up and down, up and down, in time with his breath. You braced yourself against his chest with the flat of your palm, lifting yourself to look him in the face. He was still just as hard underneath you, despite having just finished. Caleb’s head followed your upward movements, and he licked a stray bead of sweat from your cheek, up the side of your face like a dog. The wetness left behind from his tongue felt cool in its absence. You smacked a fist against his chest as he lay back.

“You are the worst. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

You couldn’t muster any real malice to bolster your words. Being with Caleb set your heart on edge and at ease, and he was the only one who could make your body feel as it just had. Caleb put the fingers that had just been inside of you in his mouth before answering your question, licking them clean of you. His free hand – the mechanical one – carded through your hair, brushing sweaty strands from your forehead. His expression was back into one of sweetness.

“Yeah, angel. I told you I’m the worst version of Caleb, didn’t I? I want to do all kinds of terrible things to you. Make sure you have everything you need. Everything you want. Be by your side. Wake up to you in the morning. Be inside of you. Keep you where no one else can find you. A world that’s just you and me.”

Caleb’s soft emphasis on the word terrible made it sound like he meant something else entirely. Like he was telling you his innermost, fervent dream. One that he had tried so hard for so long to make a reality. His hand cupped your face now, and you placed your own over it, nuzzling into the cool assuredness of the metal. Your voice came out barely a whisper.

“I must be the worst version of me, too. Maybe I want to hurt you more than you realize. Maybe I want you to suffer before you can have those things. Before you can give them to me.”

Caleb blinked up at you, and warmth spilled onto his face, into the ripening plums of his irises. Everything was reduced to him in that moment, and he was the pinpoint of the cosmos center as he spoke.

“Sufferin’ and pleasure – if they’re from you, they’re the same to me. Anything you give me, I’ll take it. I want it. If it’s from you, it can only be good.”

#love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb x you #lads x reader #lads caleb #caleb x mc #caleb love and deepspace #caleb #my fic

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bunny-jpeg · 24 hours ago

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sinful sentence (five)

lando norris - "you're so very tempting..."

tags: smut/pwp, friends-with-benefits (with feelings), simp!lando, sanrio plushies, possessive behavior, jealousy & manipulation, safe sex

the sinful sentences catalogue

this was not according to plan. this was supposed to be fun. you should be honoured really, lando never liked tapping the same girl twice. let alone three, four, five, seven times. he had lost count the amount of times he had fucked you into the mattress of his bed. watched you reach climax in the sea of soft pillows, your heavy pants into the light grey pillowcases as your back arched with a primal want.

but what started out as a means to an end. had become something a little more intense. it was like lighting matches in a gas station, the inferno was bound to happen. and it all started over a fucking stuffed animal.

"liam got you this?" he asked as he plucked it off of your bed, "are you fucking him?" he tried to keep the jealousy at bay.

"no!" you said as you crossed your arms and looked at him, "you know people give gifts to each other and not just when they're apologizing for something." you had a vast collection of luxury items from lando because he fucked up. you didn't know why he was getting jealous of liam.

lando looked at the stuffed animal, it was of hello kitty or one of those little sanrio things. the marketable plushie that seemed to invade every female's bedroom like mold. lando hated the thing. he looked at it and said, "you're so very tempting... tempting to throw in the trash." and the toy was taken from his hand and you wrapped your arms around it quickly. the face of the toy was right in the valley of your breasts that were covered by your bra.

"excuse me! don't talk that way to my melody!" that was the name of it, "be nice to her!"

lando made a face, "i would be nice to her, if she wasn't given to you by that fucker." he got into bed with you. he got his hands on either side of you and leaned you further back into the bed, "i don't like him touching what is min."

you frowned, "we're just friends, lando. you didn't want commitment, remember?" lando's biggest failure. it wasn't on the track, but rather not pinning you down. he said he was casual and he had regretted it every day since.

"well, unless you wanna be used by drivers until your worn out like a tire, i suggest you limit your driver fucking to one." to him. and you shoved him before you laid back in bed. the toy discarded to the other side of the bed.

"i didn't think you were capable of being so fucking possessive." you said before you pulled him by the front of his t-shirt. you sealed your lips against his and he started to get his joggers off. his stupid fucking words excited you sexually. and while it was all casual, it was nice to see him get so wound up over you.

you knew he was a sucker for you, and you flirted with that idea. liam didn't get you the stuffed animal, you bought it yourself at the drug store and lied to lando about it. to watch the british driver bite his words because some rookie is trying to get in his territory. it was cute in its patheticness. his clothes came off along with your undergarments.

you watched lando angrily grab one of the condoms out of the box on the nightstand and get it on before his situations himself between your legs. his handsome eyes bore into your heated flesh like he was trying to make holes in your skin. only he got to see you like this, under him and sexually needy.

when he sank into you, he cursed under his breath. you fit like a vice and even with the condom on, he could still feel the heat of your pussy. this was why he didn't want liam lawson to be sniffing around what it is. yeah, it was casual, but that didn't mean lando had to share. call him a selfish prick for that, he didn't care. you were his, and no rookie was going to take that from him.

especially when he leaned forward and started to move against you. he maintained eye contact as he thrusted against you. he held onto the covers under you as used the surface as leverage to work his cock inside of you. the bed creaked under the movements and the slick sounds of fucking filled the air paired with your heated noises.

"shit, that's it. that feels good." lando licked his lips and made eye contact with the stuffed toy near the wall. its plastic eyes watched lando ruin your cunt. stuff it full of him. he knew it was stupid, but he grinned wickedly at the toy as he continued to move against you.

he wished he could take photos of what he was doing to you right at that moment. show liam exactly how to pleasure a woman of your caliber. lando was certain that liam wouldn't even make you cum, that you'd have to fake an orgasm. but you've never faked with lando, he knew it. because he knew your body like he knew his. how to hit at just the right spots to make you see stars.

this casual affair between you two was heated to its roots. lando wanted you more than just sexually. but no amount of luxury he could give you was enough. you weren't easily swayed by material goods. as you once told him, "i'm not a crow, no need to distract me with shiny objects." but lando knew he was going mad every time he saw you with someone else.

you sated every need in his body, why couldn't you simply be his? why did you have to keep so close to the terms of being casual. lando needed you and he didn't need someone else trying to worm their way into your life. he couldn't allow it, he wouldn't allow it.

"look at you, under me. don't need plushies when you got me. you hated gifts, what made lawson so special."

you pushed your luck as you replied, "because he's actually a gentleman. not a panting dog looking to get his dick sucked every hour of every day. he at least knows how to treat a woman." it was all utter bullshit, but you felt lando's pace stagger for a moment from your words.

"bigger than me, princess?" he panted heavily, "does it stretch you out the way i do? leave you a mess? i know you talk big game about wanting a gentleman. so i need to know, is he bigger?"

you reached out and held onto his shoulders tightly, "no." then pulled him in for another kiss. you moaned into the kiss and tightened your thighs around his waist as he fucked you with heavy strokes. the pleasure made your head throb as the he clutched onto the covers tighter.

the pleasure was intense, the movements were rough. the sexual electricity was felt between you two as the kisses got more heated. you liked when lando became a man possessed when it came to his envy. he was a slave to his jealousy when it really gripped him. his breathing were heavy pants as he continued to move against you. the pleasure was a monster inside of him as his movements continued.

when he broke the kiss, he looked down at you with a glint in his eye, "he could never fuck you like this. he could never take you the way i do. he's a pussy." he pressed into you further, his pace was brutal and it made you only hotter.

your orgasm felt close the more he fucked you. the more his heavy thrusts made your mind go blank for a split second. you held onto his shoulders tightly and let him use your pussy to his liking. taking every ounce of pleasure that he could give you. if he was jealous then you were greedy for his cock.

he was right, no one else could ever have you the way he did. no other man could bring you to climax the way he did. he had re-wired your brain sexually that other hook-ups seemed so bland. lando knew exactly how to fuck you. so it was no surprise that after another round of heated kisses, you held onto him tightly and your toes curled.

you came around his cock and he soon came in the condom. you tensed up and lurched forward from the sensation and he kept you pinned down as you both finished. then slowly he came to a stop and grabbed you by the face to kiss you once more.

lando groaned against the kiss and he rubbed his softening cock inside of you to get that extra bit of pleasure before he felt content with what he had done. when he pulled out. he got up to toss the condom and when he got into bed. he grabbed the plush and looked it in its plastic eyes.

before he could make more threats to it. you plucked it from his hands, "either your nice to it or you can make yourself comfortable on my couch tonight."

he made a face and mentally promised himself. is liam lawson thought your affection was for sale, then lando would have to double the offer and make sure that you didn't end up in that rookie's arms. <3

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rosenclaws · 3 days ago

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So This Is Love (Cinderella AU) || Logan x Reader

summary: You've spent most of your life being your stepfamilies maid and nothing more. But a chance encounter and an announcement of a royal ball could change everything.

warnings: fem!reader, toxic family, loss, angst, arguments, abusive household, fluffy ending. Typical cinderella story stuff

a/n: Okay so I am so excited for this!! I adore cinderella. Both the 1950 and the 2015 one. I kind of mixed both for this story and then added a few things myself. Also the dress I had in mind was the one from the 2015 movie because it's fucking gorgeous. I hope you all love prince Logan and that I was able to do the classic cinderella story justice. I also tried adding some x-men related names to keep the logan vibes but idk if its weird or not im sorry afasdfghj

Kindness.

Your mother always told you how important that was. To be kind even when the world looked down upon you for it. Treat everyone and everything with a gentle hand a nice smile. That's the way she lived her life. Always with a smile on her face. She just glowed. Your earlier memories of her were filled with joy and laughter. Going to the town market and greeting every one who ran the stalls.

The flower merchant was your favorite. Every time she had the prettiest flowers of all sorts of colors. Your mother always let you pick out one and place it in your hair. You had never felt more beautiful. Your father was just the same. The two of them were in love and everyone could see just how happy the little family was.

Then one day your mother got sick.

She fainted in the yard. You were only a child, your mother wouldn't wake up. You rushed to get your father and the next thing you knew you were sitting outside of her room being told it was time to say goodbye.

The light seemed to dim that day. Your father, he did his best. He loved you and tried to make you smile but things grew tougher and tougher for the two of you. He remarried to a woman who was cold at best. Distant and uncaring towards you with two daughters, Cassandra and Raven, who never gave you the time of day. But your father cared. But sometimes life was just too much.

The day your father died was the day the light truly left your world. Kindness. How could the world be so cruel to a family that only showed the best to everyone around them? Your stepmother grew cold and mean, your step sisters even crueler. You became the maid for the house. You cooked and cleaned and did the laundry.

The attic became your home. But even after it all, you could never forget your mothers words. So even when it was hard, you smiled. For it was all you could do.

The clock tower wakes you up just like it does every morning. The sun shines through the window and you sit up. You sigh as you try and hold on to the wisps of your dreams. It was of your mother this time. You loved those dreams. But there was no time to dilly dally. Getting up you open the window to let the fresh air in. A few little robins land on the window sill.

"Hello little ones, it's a lovely morning isn't it." You reach down into the small sack of bird seed and place a some in front of their feet. You hold out your finger and one of them hops onto it.

"Time to start another day," You hum.

Once they had eaten you watch them fly away, a part of you wishing you could join them. Wondering what it was like to be free. But there was no time to wonder. You did your chores like clockwork. Making the morning tea and breakfast for your step mother and sisters. Gather their laundry, feed the animals, tend to the garden.

"Hello mister, what are you doing here?" As you pulled fresh carrots from the ground you found a little field mouse hiding between the greens.

"Are you hungry?" You don't reach out, not wanting to scare him.

His big eyes looked up at you and his nose twitched. Sometimes you wondered if they could understand you, your animal friends were lovely company. Reaching into your pocket you pull out some left over chicken feed.

"I know it's not much but I hope it will do." The mouse gathers it in his little paws and scurries away. You smile as you bring back the veggies.

"Perhaps we'll do soup for dinner, how does that sound?" You ask Bruno the family dog who was sitting at your feet.

He lets out a low huff and you chuckle. A loud ring echoes through the kitchen. The bell on the wall signals you were needed at the front door. You hurried up the stairs to the door.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?" The man wordlessly hands you a letter and leaves.

You turn the letter over in your hands. You could just tell this was no ordinary letter. The envelope was cream colored with beautiful gold lettering. On the back rested a solid red wax seal with the royal crest pressed into it. At once you hurried to the study where your sisters were practicing music. You weren't supposed to interrupt but this was a letter from the castle. You cautiously open the door and three sets of eyes rest on you.

"Ma'am I'm sorry to-"

"What have I told you about interrupting us? You insolent child." Your step mother berates. You hold out the letter and lower your head.

"I know but a letter from the castle came and-" Once again your cut off as your step mother rips the letter from your hands. Your step sisters squealed so loud you swore the glass would break.

"A ball is to be held for all the the eligible maidens of the Kingdom." Your step mother announces to your step sisters. Cassandra grabs the letter from her mother and continues to read.

"The prince will take a wife!" Raven rips it from her sisters hands.

"The ball is to be held in two weeks! That's not enough time, we need new dresses and make up." The two girls are sent into frenzy at the news.

Meanwhile you were still processing the news. All the eligible maidens, well that meant you too! Oh your mother used to tell stories of going to balls. Dressing up and dancing to the music.

"Go to the village at once! Place an order with the seamstress for three dresses. And get the girls whatever they need." Your step mother commands and hands you the money. Your step sisters were busy writing down all the things they needed.

"Three dresses Ma'am?" She stops and looks at you in confusion.

"Yes three, for me and your sisters obviously."

"But the invitation says all eligible maidens...may...go." Your voice trails off as the three of them stare at you.

A moment of silence passes before all three of them burst out in laughter. You want nothing more than to disappear. Shame creeping up as they laugh like the idea of you going anywhere was just so amusing.

"You? Go to the ball in those rags?" Raven cackles. You smooth down your dress, trying to get rid of the wrinkles.

"What prince would ever want a peasant girl for a wife?" Cassandra adds on.

"Girls please, it's not her fault she's so...imaginative." Your step mother walks up to you. You feel so small under her gaze.

"Look at you, be serious. You are not worthy of a prince my dear." You feel tears pool in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall in front of them.

"I just want to go to the ball, What if I made my own dress?" You ask quietly. Your step mother thinks for a moment before a smirk crosses her face.

"Perhaps if you find your own dress and finish all the chores, you can go." Protests erupt from your step sisters but one look quiets them down. She takes their list and hands it to you.

"Now run along now, only the best for me and my girls." Without another word you turn on your heel and leave.

Your step mothers words replay over and over in your head. Worthy of a prince, you don't care about the prince. All you want is one night away, to enjoy yourself and forget about the hardships. The fabric for a dress would cost a pretty penny that you don't have. Not to mention the chores. But it wasn't impossible.

There's a dress hidden in the attic, it was your mothers. It wasn't anything impressive but it was a dress and it held a lot of special memories. The town was bustling with excitement from the news. The castle hasn't held a ball in years, ever since the Queen had passed unexpectedly one night the King had shut the doors of the castle. No one had even seen the prince. They knew not his face, only a name. James.

"Hello Eden, It's lovely to see you again." You greet the town seamstress with a smile.

"I assume you've gotten a plethora of orders since the announcement." Eden was the best seamstress in a hundred miles of here. She was older but her skills never wavered. She used to patch up your dresses when you came with your mother.

"Yes my dear, thank goodness for my daughters or I'd never finish it all in time."

"I'm afraid I'm here to add to your list. My step mother wishes to order three dresses for the ball." You hand Eden the money and she sighs. Your family was not easy clients. Always nitpicking her work and treating her like dirt.

"Only three?" You smile sadly as she adds the order to her stack.

"It's alright, I have an old dress of my mothers somewhere. It just needs to be fixed up and It's ready to go." Eden smiles softly and places her hands on top of yours.

She was always kind to you since your parents passed. She was like the grandmother you never had. "Here my dear, perhaps you can use some of these." She reaches down beneath the counter and hands you a box filled with scrap fabric and some jewels.

"Oh Eden thank you, this is perfect." You take the items and place them in your satchel.

You leave Eden's and begin on the list of things your step sisters have asked for. You bounced from shop to shop buying all of their strange requests. Your bag grew heavy as the sun moved through the sky.

"Hey! Get back here!" You turn your head to see the baker yelling at a little girl. She was dressed in rags, dirt on her face with a loaf of bread in her hands. He has her by her wrist and she was trying to get free. Without thinking you storm over.

"You little brat! I'll show you what happens to thieves like you!" The baker hisses and before he can do anything else you get between them.

"Stop that! She's a child!"

"She's a thief." His grip tightens on her little wrist and you feel yourself growing angry.

"She's hungry, can't you spare her some kindness." You plead.

While the baker is distracted the little girl bites his hand making him yelp in pain. He lets go of her and she runs away. With the girl gone the baker's anger turns to you.

"You stupid girl! You owe me for that bread and more. I hope that little girl was worth it!" You don't have any money left and the baker was growing more and more upset.

"I don't have the money sir but I can pay you back tomorrow." You tell him but he doesn't like that answer. You gasp as he grabs your arm tightly.

"You aren't leaving until that bread is paid for!" Before you can say anything else a large hand grabs the bakers.

You look to the side and see a man glaring at the baker. You don't recognize him but from the looks of his clothes he was most likely a nobleman visiting.

"Unhand the lady immediately." His voice is stern as the baker does what he says.

"That girl cost me a loaf of bread!" The man steps between the two of you, almost like he's acting as a guard.

"So? Are you that desperate for money that you can't spare a loaf of bread for a needy child?" The man asks.

The baker begins to stutter but the stranger seems to not care at all. The stranger relishing him to a nervous mess. You wonder just who this man was.

"You're embarrassing yourself sir, I would go back to your shop if I were you." The baker does as told, mumbling to himself as he retreats back into his shop. The man suddenly turns to you.

"Are you alright?" He stands so tall as he looks down at your arm. The man before you was unlike anyone you've seen. A handsome face but a stern aura. His clothes were woven with intricate detail and he was well kept.

"Yes, thank you sir." You bow your head to the man in thanks.

"That man was out of line, you were only trying to help." He states. You grew nervous under his intense eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a pair of eyes watching you. It was the little girl, she quickly ducks behind a wall and you follow her. The man following you.

"Hello sweetheart, It's okay I won't hurt you." You say gently as you kneel down. She looks at you and then at the man with cautious eyes. You reach into your bag and pull out a few apples you had bought for a pie.

"Here, take them." She quickly grabs them from your hands and hides them away.

"Thank you." She says quietly.

"What's your name?" The man asks, he kneels down just like you. For some reason she doesn't seem afraid of him.

"Laura."

"That's a pretty name, where do you live?" He offers her a kind smile and she seems to relax a little bit.

"The orphanage." She replies.

Your heart breaks as you watch her small figure devour one of the apples. The orphanage was filled with too many kids and not enough money to help. The kids were often left starving and lonely. She must have snuck out to get food.

"Want to go back." She looks at the two of you and you reach out your hand.

"Come along then." Her tiny hand fits in yours as you walk her back to the orphanage.

The man comes with the two of you, his presence enough to deter any stares or rude comments. When you bring her to the front gates she rushes into the yard, pulling out the bread and breaking it apart to give to the other children. She looks back at the two of you and waves.

"That was a very kind thing you did back there." The man says, watching Laura with a frown.

"I just wanted to help her." You adjust the bag on your shoulder, its heavy weight taking a toll.

"Allow me." Before you can protest the man takes your bag and effortlessly puts it on his own shoulder.

"Oh it's okay sir, the walk back is far and I don't want to burden you." You try and reach for the bag but he doesn't let you.

"I don't mind. I would like to walk you back if that's alright with you. A gesture of kindness for earlier." You want to accept but you're hesitant, you don't even know who this man is. But he seems kind and you could use the help. It's been a long time since a stranger has shown you such kindness.

"Okay, but before you go I must ask your name." He begins to speak but stops himself, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment.

"Logan, my name is Logan."

"Are you from here Logan? Or are you only here for the ball?" "I grew up here." His answers are short but you don't mind. It's nice being able to talk to someone who doesn't stand on four legs.

"Are all these things for the ball, a little excessive don't you think?" He's very straightforward but you appreciate that.

"It's not for me, it's for my step sisters. They wanted all new make up and a new dress and anything they could think of." Logan chuckles and looks fondly at you.

"I don't understand the appeal of a ball to be honest, it seems like a place for obnoxious people to be around other obnoxious people." Logan states plainly.

"Perhaps, but for people like me it's exciting. My mother used to love to dress up and this is my chance to do the same."

"Used to?" Logan asks, his gaze softening as he notices your eyes flicker with sadness.

"She passed some time ago." You say sadly.

"My apologies." He looks at you and then looks forward at the path.

"My mother passed too."

"Oh Logan I'm so sorry." You place your hand on his arm in a moment of comfort.

"It’s okay, that’s just how life goes sometimes.” You wanted the talk to last forever.

But far too soon you reached the edge of town. You didn’t want him to know where you lived, if he walked you all the way back your stepmother might see him. It's better to keep him away from your mess.

“This is good. I can walk the rest of the way.” You tell him. He frowns as you stop dead in your tracks.

“Are you certain?” He asks in a confused tone.

“Yes, thank you so much Logan but I really must be going.” You take the bag and hurry off, leaving him standing alone in the road.

You were scolded for returning so late but you could care less. You had a dress to make. For the next two weeks every spare moment you had was dedicated to fixing your mothers dress. The spare fabric was perfect to patch up holes and add a satin neckline while the jewels made the whole dress shine. You powered through the chores and the lack of sleep for this.

Every now and again your thoughts would drift to Logan. Wondering if you’d see him at the ball, if you could get to dance with the man who came to your rescue. He was a very handsome man that you couldn’t deny. Would he even be interested in dancing with you? Would he care that you were nothing more than a peasant girl? He might take one look at you at home and run for the hills. But a girl can dream can’t she.

The day of the ball you were buzzing with excitement. Your chores were all done and all that’s left was to get ready. You hear the stomping of the horses outside and you hurried down the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your step mother asks. Eyeing your dress with a disgusted look. The smile on your face drops.

“I finished my chores and I have a dress…you said I could go if I did all those things.”

“You call that a dress?” Raven scoffs. She circles you like a predator.

“This is nothing but a disaster. Imagine you dancing with the prince. Tripping over your own two feet and then oops,” She grabs a piece of your dress and rips it apart.

“Stop!” You cry as you try and grab the piece in her hand. Cassandra grabs the newly sewn neckline and rips it off.

“See? Nothing but a cheap imitation of real class.” You beg them to stop as they tear apart your dress.

Your mothers dress. All your hard work, your hope was gone. Tears stream down your face as you grab the scraps from their hands.

“Oh dear, it appears you don’t have a dress anymore. What a shame. Come along girls.” You watch through blurry vision as they leave.

Cackling with joy as they board the carriage. You don’t understand. Why do they hate you so much? What did you ever do to you? You’ve tried your whole life to be kind, to make your mother proud but it feels like the world is punishing you for it.

Your mother is gone. Your father is gone. The only family, if you can even call them that, hates you. They treat you like dirt. You race through the house. Running to the backyard and collapsing onto the ground. You sob into the scraps of fabric as you mourn the life you’ve missed. The hurt bubbling to the service.

“I’m sorry mother, I can’t do this anymore. I’m trying to be like you but I just can’t.”

“My dear, please don’t cry.” You scream as an unfamiliar voice speaks into your ear. You scramble back as a man in a red mask and a poofy white dress stands before you.

“W-Who are you?” You ask in disbelief.

“Well I’m Wade, your fairy godmother of course!” He says happily, pulling out a wand and sending sparks into the air. You watch in awe as the color bursts into the air.

“My what?”

“Fairy godmother! Corset and all sweetheart. My organs are all touching.” He whispers that last part to you.

“I don’t understand, You can do magic?”

“Uh, the magic wand here isn’t just for show.” He says while waving it around. A burst of magic shoots from the tip accidently and goes right through the attic window. He makes a noise and looks back at you.

“Whoopsie. Still working out the kinks.” He says while slamming the wand against his hand. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Anyways, It is my job to get you to the ball and to get you to the hot prince who’s waiting for you.” He leans in and nudges your shoulder.

“You’ll have to tell me if he really does have hair, everywhere.” You squeak at the implication and Wade just skips off. He points his wand at the pumpkin patch.

“I’ve always wanted to do this!” He says excitedly. He speaks the magic words and before your very eyes a pumpkin grows and grows until he becomes a carriage. You gasp in amazement. Rushing over admiring the gorgeous white carriage.

“Okay now we need some horses!” Wade looks around the garden and sees a few field mice watching in the grass.

“Okay I haven’t done mice yet but what could go wrong right?” He shoots his magic at the mice and misses, causing a carrot to crawl out of the ground and run away.

“Will you just stay still! The cartoon mice were much more cooperative.” It takes him a few tries but he eventually gets them all.

Four beautiful stallions at the front of your carriage. A goose sitting by the fountain finds himself victim to Wade’s magic. Becoming a footman in an instant.

“Now we need to fix. All of this.” He gestures to your dress.

"Yeesh, would not say yes to this dress.” He mumbles as he starts to wave his wand.

“Oh! Please be gentle with this. It was my mothers.” You ask. You don’t want a full replacement. Just a little touch up.

“Don’t worry. I know what to do!” He cracks his knuckles and neck.

“Okay, maximum effort.” Magic surrounds you as you feel the dress change.

Your jaw drops as the torn rags turn into a beautiful blue ball gown. It was the prettiest dress you had ever seen. The way it swished and sparkled in the moonlight. It was beyond your wildest dreams. You lift your dress only to find crystal glass slippers adorned on your feet.

“I never understood glass slippers. As if heels weren’t hard enough to walk in. Trust me. These are killing me.” He lifts his own dress to show you heels taller than you’ve ever seen.

“It makes my butt look amazing though.” You laugh as you twirl around.

“Oh thank you Wade. How can I ever repay you for this?”

“Aw don’t worry child, You deserve this.” He pats your head and takes your hand, helping you into the carriage.

“First things first, I will hide your identity to your family for plot convenience so they won’t recognize you.” He taps his wand on your cheek and you wince as it pokes your skin.

“Second, to keep things interesting, this only lasts until midnight. Once the clock strikes 12 everything will revert back to the way it was. Except for the glass slippers. For some reason.” You nod, you don’t need this to last forever. This was enough. Just one night was enough.

“Thank you Wade. For everything.” You lean over and kiss his cheek.

“Awe, you really know how to make a guy blush. Now hurry! You don’t have much time. Mush horsies mush!” The horses take off and you watch Wade disappear in the distance.

You can barely contain your joy as you head to the castle. You couldn’t stop touching the dress or the plush seats of the carriage. It was unbelievable. A part of you was afraid if you blinked it would all go away or that this was just a dream and you were still back home. But as you near the castle it feels all too real. As you reach the steps of the castle your footman helps you out onto the ground. You turn and curtsy to the horses and to your footman.

“Thank you all.” Your heels clack on the marble stairs as you race up to the grand hall.

You’re awestruck at the beauty of the castle. Before the ballroom you stop in front of a large portrait of who you assume to be the royal family. The King sits regal as ever with the Queen standing by his side. A kind smile on her face as her hands rest on the Prince’s shoulder. The prince is only a child but you see he had his mothers hazel eyes. You bow to the portrait and then move to the ballroom.

The doors open and suddenly everyone's eyes are on you. A hush falls over the crowd as you walk up to the balcony. You see the King sitting at the front of the room, bowing in respect. You effortlessly glide down the stairs to the main floor. Whispers are shared throughout the guests but you pay them no mind. You were truly here. The music starts up again and the party slowly goes back to normal. You weaved your way through the crowd. Sneaking a chocolate covered strawberry from the dessert table. It was the sweetest thing you had ever tasted.

“That was quite an entrance.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn around, your dress moving with you.

“Logan! You came.” You say with a smile. You weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. He’s dressed in white with accents of blue. His clothes are crisp and fitted perfectly.

“I thought you didn’t care for these.” He shrugs and looks around the room.

“I don’t, but I was hoping to find a familiar face.” Your breath catches in your throat as he reaches up and wipes chocolate from your lips. A half smile on his lips.

“I love chocolate too,” He says with an amused look.

“You know I never caught your name.” He remarks and you smile.

“You never asked.” You reply. Logan raises an eyebrow but chuckles at your response. The music dies down as the song comes to an end.

“Dance with me.” He holds out his hand but you shake your head.

“Oh I don’t dance Logan.”

“You can’t come to a ball and not dance love.” Your heart flutters at the pet name. It just sounds so sweet coming from him.

“The last time I danced I was a little girl standing on my fathers toes.” You admit shyly. Logan hums and tilts your chin up with his hand. The distance between the two of you closing in.

“Just trust me my love, I won’t let you fall.” He takes your hand and you follow him. He glances at the band and subtly nods his head. They start to play a new song as Logan positions your hands.

“Don’t look at anyone else but me.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re horribly nervous as the music starts. Just don’t step on his toes and you’ll be fine. Your feet move clumsily at first but with an encouraging smile from Logan you find your footing. The two of you glide across the ballroom. Capturing the attention of everyone in the room. You barely even noticed as you found yourself getting lost in his hazel eyes.

True to his word he never lets you fall. You don’t know how you’re dancing like this but you don't care. The two of you dance like you’ve been partners for years. Matching each other's movements effortlessly.

“You’re a natural my love.” He says with a grin.

“Only because I have you.” You say with a smile.

Happiness threatens to burst through your heart as the music comes to an end. Applause fills the room but you only pay attention to Logan. More couples join the dance floor as the music starts back up but you and Logan stay still in the middle of the dance floor.

“Prince James!” You hear a voice call. You pay no mind but Logan seems to tense.

“It’s far too crowded here, let's go somewhere quieter.” He takes your hand and guides you through the room. Weaving between people until you’re out of the grand ballroom.

“Logan, are we supposed to be here?” You ask worriedly.

“Don’t worry, trust me.” He says with a wink.

You admire the portraits and paintings on the wall. Logan brings you through the castle until you find yourself outside in the royal gardens. Colorful flowers fill the courtyard along with a marble fountain. You can’t help yourself as you admire every plant and flower.

Logan watched you with a smile on his face. You really are something special. But there's something he needs to confess. He wishes he didn’t have to but he cannot hide it any longer.

“My love, there’s something I need to tell you.” He says cautiously.

“Yes Logan?”

“I haven’t been completely honest with you about my identity. The truth is…” He trails off. Unsure of how to tell you.

“You’re the crowned Prince. Aren’t you?” There’s no anger in your voice. Only amusement. Logan’s jaw falls as he tries to gather his words.

“Did you know the moment we met?” He asks in disbelief. You shake your head, eyes turning back to the roses in the garden.

“I didn’t know until right now. Well a couple minutes ago. You led me through the castle without a second thought, you’re wearing the royal crest, and there are paintings of you and your family in every hall of the castle.” You explain with a giggle. Logan groans, of course you’d notice all of that.

“But most of all, you have your mothers eyes.” You reach up and cup his face, staring into those enchanting hazel eyes.

“Are you not angry with me for lying about my true identity?”

“No my prince, I understand why you did so. It must be so hard sometimes. So lonely.” He sighs and covers your hand with his.

“It can be yes, no siblings and a father who has shut you out since your mother passed.”

Logan’s life wasn't what all his subjects thought it to be. Perhaps when he was a child it was. His father was a cold man. Only caring about ruling his kingdom and nothing more. The only time he would talk to Logan was to berate him or remind him of his future responsibilities. No rough housing, no crying, no coddling. He will be the future king which means he must act like it.

It didn’t matter that he was only a child. His mother was much kinder. She stayed with him when he was sick or when he had a nightmare. She taught him everything he knows. Gardening, cooking, reading, dancing. All his mother. She would tell him stories of brave soldiers who slayed dragons and tales of prince’s meeting their princesses.

When she died, he was only a teenager. His father who was already a cold man grew even colder. His heart was frozen by the loss of his wife. Since then Logan had to become the model King his father wished him to be. Locked in the castle walls with no one. It didn’t take long for him to learn how to sneak out from under his fathers rule. He swore one day he’d leave and never look back. But that day never came.

The day his father got sick. He knows what’s coming. There’s no doctor in the world who can cure what his father has. It’s why his father planned the whole ball. Logan was to become King soon and he needed a wife. But this wasn’t how Logan wanted things to go. He doesn’t want to marry out of obligation. But despite being the prince, he’s utterly helpless.

“I’m so sorry, my prince.”

“Logan, please call me Logan.” He begs, he’s not your prince out here. Not when it’s just the two of you. You nod and he leads you through the gardens.

“Why Logan? We were told the Prince’s name was James.” You ask.

“James is my fathers name. But my mother gave me the name Logan. I prefer it to my given name.” Logan explains, his hand reaching down to pluck a white rose from one of the bushes. He carefully picks the thorns off the stem and holds it out to you.

“A pretty flower for a beautiful woman.” You bite your lip as he gently places the flower into your hair.

“Perfect.” He whispers. The falling vines shield you from the prying eyes of the walkway.

“Logan, aren’t you supposed to find a wife tonight?” You ask and his face hardens.

“My fathers idea. He wants me to be married for the good of the kingdom.” Logan huffs as he rolls his eyes.

“It doesn't matter what I wish for myself.”

“What do you wish for?” He looks at you with a look you can’t quite place. His hands cup your face and he brings himself closer to you.

“I want to marry for love, to find someone who cares for me and not just my title.”

“I see,” You squeak out. Your heart pounds in your chest as Logan edges ever closer. His gloved hands hold your face with such care. His lips just ghosting over yours.

“I believe I’ve found it.” He mumbles. Your eyes flutter closed as Logan closes the gap. You can barely feel his lips when the clock tower chimes through the courtyard. You gasp as you look at the time.

Midnight. You have to leave.

“Logan I, I’m sorry.” You turn and run as fast as you can. Through the garden back into the castle to the front doors.

“Wait, please don’t leave!” Logan calls after you. He’s running after you with all his might.

The carriage is waiting for you at the foot of the steps. You rush carelessly down the stairs. You feel your shoe fly off and you stop to grab it but Logan is close behind you. You can’t risk it. Before you can get into your carriage you hear him call for you again.

“Your name, I never got your name.” You turn back to see him on the steps.

He’s silently begging you not to leave. You almost tell him, almost. But reality has come crashing down on you. He’s the prince. He must marry someone important. Someone who can become queen one day. Someone who isn’t you.

“I’m sorry Logan.” You jump in the carriage and before Logan can do anything you’re off.

Logan bends down and picks up the glass shoe. He kicks himself for never asking your name. From the moment he saw you he felt a connection. You didn’t know who he was but you were so nice. Protecting that little girl without a second thought. Logan is normally a stoic man but you were easy to talk to. He wanted to talk to you.

The doors open as the guests start to file out. He feels a hand grab his arm and drag him back into the castle where his angry father awaits him.

“James! Where on earth did you go?! Do you know what a ruckuss you caused? Dancing with a mystery woman just to disappear for the rest of the night?!” His father yells but Logan could care less.

“She is my future wife. I know it. You wished for me to marry well I found a wife.”

“Well where is she?” His father asks. Logan looks down at the slipper and then back to his father.

“She ran. But I will find her. That’s a promise.” He says but his father just sighs.

“Son. Why can’t you just pick someone else? Princess Jean from the Grey family of the neighboring kingdom is interested and your marriage would be great for both our kingdoms.” His father says like its a matter of fact. Knowing his father Logan wouldn’t be surprised if he had already agreed to the marriage without even speaking to him.

“Because I love her father!” Logan roars. He is sick of being controlled by his father. He will rule the kingdom. He will be king one day and he will do it his way.

“Love doesn’t matter! Look what love got you son. She left you. She’s gone.” His father shouts.

“How could you say that? Did mother mean nothing to you? Did you not love her?!” Logan challenges. His eyes burn with intensity as he marches right up to his father. Logan’s chest heaves as his father sinks into his throne.

“Your mother was the love of my life.” He starts.

“But she died. My love could not heal her and now she’s gone. Please, I am doing this for your own good.” King James pleads. For the first time in the last 20 years Logan saw a hint of vulnerability break through his fathers hard shell.

“I love her. It may end in heartbreak, she may not want me. But all I know is I love her. Give me one week to find her. That’s all I ask. One week and if I fail then I will marry Princess Jean.” Logan drops to his knees.

His one last desperate effort to appeal to his father. His mother would want him to marry for love and he’s found it. He can’t give up on it now.

“Deal. One week James.”

True to what Wade had said, everything turned back to normal. Your dress, the carriage, the horses, and the footman. The gooses waddled by your side as the mice sat inside of your glass shoe as you walked back to your house. That night was something out of your wildest dreams.

Dancing with the prince, with Logan. The smile wouldn’t leave your face. How could it? You hummed the song that was playing as you danced to yourself. It didn’t matter how much your feet hurt, you were happy. The glass slipper sparkled in the moonlight.

You’re glad you have something to remember the night by, to prove it wasn’t just a dream. After letting the mice free you ran back to your room, just as you heard the carriage pull up. Prying the loose floorboard up you place the shoe gently inside, a keepsake you’ll hold dear forever.

The next morning you went back to your old life, being treated like dirt once again but it was okay. For when you had the chance you would daydream of the night before. Your sisters would not stop talking about the ball. Angry that they never got to speak to the prince and that some mystery woman stole him away. They’ll never know that was you. That the prince had chosen you to spend his night with.

No matter how cruel your family was, how much work they gave you, you were still happy. News had traveled quickly that the prince was looking for the mystery girl, a single glass shoe his only way of finding her. Your step mother had alerted your sisters this morning. A week to find his true love, how romantic.

You tried to balance your feelings. Could he really find you all the way out here? Would he even look past the town? He didn’t even know your name. What if he saw the true nature of your life, that you were not the woman he thought you were? What if he thought you were a princess or a noblewoman? That day in the town you had spent a lot of coins. Would he want you as just a peasant maid girl?

”I expect the house to be spotless for the prince’s visit.” Your step mother demands.

Not a single speck of dirt is allowed. You worked tirelessly day and night. Even when your step sisters would spill something on purpose or tip over your water bucket, you managed to get it done. The prince was to travel to the outskirts of the town by mid afternoon. You were absolutely exhausted. You trudged up the stairs to your room. To your shock your step mother was sitting on your bed, your glass slipper dangling from her finger.

“Where did you find that?” Your voice quivering with fear. You hid that away, you only brought it out in the dead of night. How could she have found it?

“Do you think me a fool, my dear?” Her voice is cold, void of any emotion as she swings the slipper back and forth.

“Please don’t!” You reach forward but she pulls it back. Your steps falter, her stare grounding you to the spot you’re standing in.

“It’s fragile.” You whisper.

“You really are dreadful at keeping secrets. Humming a tune, swaying to the imaginary music when you think no one is looking. And this.” She holds out the slipper.

“The mystery girl at the ball had shoes made of crystal, my dear. I wonder just how fragile it really is.”

“Please, I don’t want anything from you. I've done the chores I’ve kept quiet…” Your step mother stands up and marches over to you. She leers down at you in utter discontent.

“Silence! You insolent girl. You have ruined everything! I knew I should have thrown you out the minute your father died. All he cared about was you, I was his wife but he gave you all his attention. Probably because he was still in love with that wretched woman.”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that! You know nothing of who she was. She was kind, strong and loving. Everything you aren’t!” You shout back.

Your step mothers faced into shock and then to anger. But you couldn’t stop, once the gates had been opened it’s all flooding out.

“Why are you so cruel to me? What could I possibly have done to you? I was a child! A child who had lost both her parents and you couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy. Not one.” You fall to your knees, years of built up emotions flooding out of you. You wince as your stepmother grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” She snarled.

“You are nothing but a worthless little girl and you will never be anything more than that. Do you understand me?” Her eyes are burning with rage. She tightens her grip on the heel of your slipper. Your eyes widen as you realize what she’s going to do.

“No!” You scream as she slams the slipper to the ground.

It shatters into pieces before your eyes. Scattering across your floor. You sob as you grab at the pieces you can still hold. You look up at your step mother with tearful eyes.

For a second, perhaps it is your imagination, you see a flicker of regret. But it disappears just as quickly as it came. The sound of horses comes rumbling in the distance. Your stepmother walks past you. The heel of the slipper is still in her hands.

“Make a sound and you’ll never step foot outside again.” She slams your door shut and you hear the click of the lock.

You cry and cry your heart out. Holding the broken pieces of crystal to your chest. The one happy moment in your heart has been shattered just like everything else. Why couldn’t they just let you be happy for once? You spent your whole life trying to live through kindness and you thought that maybe the world would show you a little too.

But it’s done the worst thing. It gave you a sliver of hope, a sliver of happiness and then it crushed it. Crushed it until there’s nothing left.

Maybe this is just the life you’re meant to have, perhaps the happiness wasn’t meant to be. Logan was too good to be true, he’ll find a new wife after this week. He’ll become King and forget all about you. Even when he’ll be all you dream about for the rest of your life.

You gently place the broken pieces on top of a piece of fabric, bundling them up and placing them under your bed. The tears have slowly stopped falling. You rest your arms on the window sill. A light breeze comes through to dry your tears. You stare at the castle in the distance.

Replaying the night over in your head in hopes that it brings you some peace.

“Hello Prince James.” Logan stands at the door of the house. Your stepmother and stepsisters bow in his presence.

“These are my daughters Cassandra and Raven.” Logan nods as the two girls eye him shamelessly.

“Let's get this over with.” Logan mumbles to the guards who were standing beside him.

He’s searched through the whole kingdom. Today marks a week since that night of the ball. Today was his last chance to find you and he’s almost given up hope. The shoe hasn’t fit anyone, he knows if he sees you he won’t even need the shoe but it was a way to make sure in his fathers eyes.

“My aren’t you handsome.” Raven purrs, reaching out to touch his chest. He steps back and lets the guards step in front of him. Holding the shoe out to Raven. Raven sits down and holds out her foot. The guard tries to put the shoe on but it’s too small.

“Must have shrunk since last week.” Raven says with gritted teeth.

“It doesn’t fit Raven, now move over.” Cassandra pulls her sister out of the chair and sits down instead.

Gloating at the way Raven pouts. Once again the shoe is placed on Cassandra’s foot and once again it doesn’t fit. Logan holds back the urge to roll his eyes as Cassandra tries to fit her foot in through force.

“Thank you for your time.” He starts to leave but he’s stopped by your stepmother.

“Wait! My prince, I promise you the shoe belongs to one of my daughters.” She pulls the heel of the slipper out of her pocket. Logan’s eyes widen as he sees the familiar glass slipper.

“Where did you find this?” He demands.

“As I said before, it belongs to one of my daughters.” Logan doesn’t believe her for a second. He knows who he danced with and it wasn’t the two girls standing before him.

“My prince, listen!” One of the guards says. Your stepmother opens her mouth to protest but one look from Logan silences her. His ears strain to hear what the guard was talking about. There’s nothing but silence at first, but then he hears it. A soft hum of a familiar song. He knows that song, that’s the song he danced to at the ball.

“Where is she?” He growls, his polite front dropping in an instant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no one else here.” Your stepmother tries to argue but Logan pushes past her.

Running up the stairs to the attic. Stopping every now and then to hear you sing. At the very top of the stairs sits an old wooden door. Without thinking he slams his shoulder into it. The wood shakes and creaks under his force.

“Logan?” You ask in disbelief, your voice muffled through the wall.

“Stand back!” Logan says before ramming his shoulder against the door again. It splinters with ease. You stare in shock as Logan stands before you.

“It’s you.” He says breathlessly, uncaring of the dust and grime that now stains his perfect suit.

“You found me.” You whisper.

“I haven't stopped looking for you since the ball.” Logan walks over to you, striding across the room in need. His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you close.

“I have fallen madly in love with you.” He confesses.

You reach up and wrap your hands in his hair, pulling him in for the kiss you didn’t get to have in the gardens. His hands squeeze your waist softly as he groans into the kiss. You’re both desperate and passionate. Trying to speak a thousand words with only your lips.

“Do I finally get to know your name?” He asks with amusement. A smile on his face as he cups your face. You laugh and tell him. He repeats you, your name rolling off his tongue with ease.

“What a perfect name.” He hums, his thumb brushing your cheek softly. Logan takes a step back and drops to one knee, pulling out a gorgeous ring from his pocket.

“Marry me my love.” He holds out the ring and you feel your heart jump.

“Of course I will.” You cry. He places the ring on your finger and spins you around. You laugh with pure joy as he pulls you in for another kiss.

“Your stepmother is an awful woman.” He mumbles, if he could he’d kick them out of his kingdom for treating you like this. Locking you away like a prisoner in your own home.

The two of you hand in hand head back downstairs. All eyes are on you as Logan leads you through your house. The house that was once filled with happy memories of your parents, now tainted by years of abuse and cruelty from your stepmother. Logan stands at your side, blocking their view of you as you walk out the door.

“Wait! Please you can’t just leave us. I won’t allow it!” Your stepmother hisses as she follows you out the door.

The guards step forward but you call them off. Logan looks at you, silently asking if you’re sure and you nod. Reluctantly he lets go of your hand, letting you walk up to your step mother. You hold your head high, a feeling of complete freedom.

“You don’t control me anymore.” You stand tall, watching as your stepmother's face morphs through different emotions. Your whole body is shaking. But she can’t hurt you anymore, she doesn’t get to destroy your life. Logan laces his hand with yours and gently pulls you back to the royal carriage.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks as he sees the tears in your eyes. He reaches up and brushes the stray tears away.

“Yes Logan, I’m perfect.”

In an instant your life changed. Your wedding was a grand affair. The whole town was thrilled to have a new princess and the celebration was amazing. Logan was a model prince, using his power and status to help the town orphanage so that all the children could live happy and comfortable lives. He wasn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves and work to help his kingdom.

After years of being locked away he was discovering what it meant to be free just like you were. The two of you were beloved. Praised for being kind, fair, and happy rulers. You spread kindness through everything the two of you did together. He’s everything to you and you are his whole world.

The view of the kingdom from your bedroom window was nothing short of breathtaking. You place birdseed on the window sill and a few birds fly up to the castle window. They chirp happily and you watch them with a smile on your face.

“What are you thinking about my love?” Logan asks as he wraps his arms around you from behind. His chin resting on your shoulder.

You look back at his handsome face, seeing the man you love with nothing but content on his face. He brought the light back into your life and it shines brighter than ever before. Then you look back at the kingdom, your kingdom. For once your heart does not ache watching from the window. Now you feel only love and peace.

“Nothing my prince, I’m just happy.”

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fluff

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bet-on-me-13 · 9 hours ago

Text

Undead Galaxy

So! Within the Ghost Zone, there exists a Lair unlike any other.

To a Ghost, a Lair is supposed to be an integral part of their Existence. When a Ghost Builds their Lair, they take a part of the Ghost Zone Itself and mold it into a Realm of their own, transforming it into a reflection of their Core.

As such, a Lair usually matches the personality, and more importantly the Obsessions, of the Ghost it was created by. It is meant to be the Eternal Home of the one who built it, a place to spend the rest of their eternal unlife, and as such it needs to be able to fulfill the Ghosts Obsessions.

Think of Skulkers Lair, an Island Jungle filled to the brim with Monsters and Beasts of all sorts, ready and waiting to be hunted down and skinned. The perfect home for a ghost with an Obsession based on Hunting.

Some take this a step farther, like the Ancients (which is just another name used for Gods in the Zone), who transform their Lairs into Entirely Seperate Afterlives for others to inhabit. Hades, Osiris, the Demon Lords of the various Hells, they all took this approach.

But there is a problem. For beings like God's, who are sustained by Worship, what would happen if their world were to die? If the planet their people resided on were to be hit by an asteroid, or blown up by an Alien warlord?

A God without its worship would Fade, and as such the Afterlife they used to maintain would fall apart as well. The Millions of Souls who trusted that God to protect them in death would be left to the mercy of the Void between Afterlives. Somebody decided that they didn't like that, and stepped in.

Within the Ghost Zone exists a Galaxy.

A Galaxy where all the souls and Afterlives of worlds that have died continue to exist. Worlds that were destroyed by a cataclysmic War that resulted in both sides dying, by unstable Mining Practices destabilize the Core, by a Psychic Virus that wiped out all life on Planet leaving a baren husk.

When their populations died, and the Gods who maintained their afterlives would have faded, they were saved by another and brought into his Lair.

The Ghost King, Phantom.

He was a spirit with two simple Obsessions. The Protection of others, and the Majesty of Space.

But there was no Space in the Ghost Zone, only the Infinite void. So he made his own. He constructed a Lair of incredible size, decorating it with Stars and Planets and Supernova and Nebula. He recreated the Majesty of the Space he adored, and the invited the wandering souls of dead worlds to enjoy it with him.

He gave them planets of their own within the Unliving Galaxy. All the souls of crumpled afterlives wandering the Ghost Zone were allowed to recreate it again, to find eachother and build their communities again.

With this he could fulfill both of his Obsessions at the same time, and he would he doing his duty as their king by helping his subjects.

He saw it as an absolute win.

...

They had been trapped in this strange dimension for days now.

Nobody had any idea how they ended up there. Clark had just fallen asleep, Diana was training, Hal was on patrol. Even J'onn himself was on Moniter Duty, when the next thing he knew they were all waking up on a floating purple rock in a Lazarus green void.

Thankfully Constantine that had been dragged alongside him when J'onn when he was taken, and managed to explain that they were in some kind of void in-between the afterlives.

"The Ghost Zone" "The Unending End" "The Collective Dead", it went by many names apparently. The most famous name for it was "The Infinite Realms", named for the way the infinite souls residing there would build their own personal Realms, or Lairs, to spend eternity in.

Not even he knew how they had ended up there. Constantine was confident that they hadn't died recently (the fact they needed to use "recently" was a sad thought), so it wasn't the old fashioned way at the very least.

Still, they needed to get moving. This place was dangerous and they didn't want to stay in one place for too long.

After days of traveling across the strange void (had they even eaten since they arrived there?) Constantine finally caught a hint of something. There was a draw on them, pulling them towards a specific direction. They had been unconsciously following it for days now, and now that they knew what they were doing they soldiered on even faster. If there were answers wherever they were being drawn, they would find them.

Once it came into view, it was obvious what had been calling to them this entire time. It was massive.

Spanning across the endless horizon, they could see something that looked like a Galaxy spanning in front of them. From their position on a floating island, they could see it in all its glory. Contrasting the green they had become accustomed to, the Galaxy swirled in a variety of Bright Blues and Deep Purples, with multicolored stars shining so brightly they stood out even as far as they were from it.

It took all their breaths away, and J'onn would admit to having stood there staring for longer than he should have. It was just so starkly different than anything he had seen thus far in this dimension of greens and purples.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

In an Instant their weapons were drawn and fighting stances set, facing the person who had appeared in their midst.

He was a young man, seemingly in his early 20's, with snow white hair and Lazarus green eyes. Above his head sat a crown glowing the same color as the galaxy spanning in front of them. They all knew instantly that this man was connected to it on a deep level.

"Who are you" Asked Diana. Her thoughts were filled with theat assessments and carefulness. She thought he was strong.

"Oh, my name is Phantom." He replied, "Sorry for startling you, this is one of my favorite spots to stargaze and I forgot that normal people usually can't see me when I zone out like that."

"What is that?" Clark asked, pointing to the Galactic Structure on the horizon. He was curious. The man before they didn't act hostile, so he had decided to match his energy.

"Oh, that's my Galaxy. Like it?" He asked excitedly, "Took me ages to get it looking just right, but I'm so proud of the results."

"Do you know why we are here?" Asked Hal, his mind was swimming with worry over his Sector of space. He had been taken while patrolling it. He wanted to get back quickly.

"I didn't bring you here, if that's what you're asking." He replied evenly, "But I know who did. They wanted to see you again, but with their Realms crumbled and their people scattered, they never had the chance. Now they do, and they wanted to say hello again. Sorry about the long journey, they messed up the Summoning process and you ended up a bit farther than intended."

"Who summoned us?" Asked Constantine warily. His thoughts were full of the various demons and gods he knew inhabited these Realms. He was worried.

"Well, You, accidently got dragged along through proximity, sorry." He apologized to the magician, "But as for the rest of you? Well, you'll just have to wait and see for yourselves. Trust me, it'll be a welcome surprise."

"Can you tell us where can we find the ones who summoned us?" Asked J'onn finally. He was curious, and wary, of who had decided to pull them into this dimension. But if the man before them was being truthful, then he wanted to meet them.

"Just keep following that pulling sensation that brought you here, you'll find them." He said, "I'll stay here for a while longer though. Just want to stargaze a bit more."

They left him on the island and kept going.

As the approached the Galaxy, it dawned on them how truly massive the realm in front of them was. Hal confirmed that it wasn't as big as a real one, but even he was in awe at its size.

As they drew closer is quickly became apparent that they were being drawn in different directions. After a quick discussion they decided it was best to split up.

J'onn approached the Planet he was being drawn to, and realized very quickly that it very closely resembled his old homeworld, Mars. The Red Sands, the Rocky Terrain, the two Moons that could be seen orbiting the planet, all of it seemed tailor made to resurface memories of his destroyed home.

It took all of a second for all of it to come together in his head.

The allusions Phantom had made to his summoners missing him. The resemblance to his old Homeworld. The fact he was currently in a version of the Afterlife.

As he made the connection in his head, he felt another two connections form. Ones he had not felt in the the Centuries since he had lost them.

"Hello, J'onn."

"...M'yri'ah..." His wife.

"Hi dad."

"...K'hym..." His Daughter.

It took nearly a full minute before his mind calmed enough to send them a response. It was a Whirlwind of wild thoughts, fear of this being a trick, and above all hope that it was real.

Eventually, he finally managed a response.

"I missed you."

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Danny is the Ghost King #Ghost King Danny #Danny built his own Galaxy #Lairs are much more important than people realize #They are custom made to cater to the Obsessions of their creators #And are literally a reflection of their Souls/Cores #A Lair is a Realm of its own #That's why another name for the Ghost Zone is “The Infinite Realms”#Every Ghost has their own Realm and there are Infinite Ghosts. Therefore “Infinite Realms”#Afterlives are actually the Lairs of Gods who live in the Ghost Zone which they turned into communities of their own #But when the people who worship that God die out the God dies as well and their Lair crumbles #So Danny created a place where they could go to after their Afterlife crumbled #He created a Galaxy to feed his Space Obsession and a Refuge to feed his Protection Obsession #The JLA was summoned by their loved ones after they got their afterlives back #Diana is there cause the Amazon Afterlife is run by Pandora who Danny invited to live in his Galaxy #Hal was summoned by the world's he failed to save so they could tha k him for trying and to give him closure #Maybe the other GL's are also summoned #Constantine was literally just dragged along by accident when he was leaning on J'onn's chair on the Watchtower #He is so done

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l1tw1ck · 17 hours ago

Text

Sponsored by Stark

Dom!Bottom!Tony x Sub!Top!Masc Virgin Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,358 ☆

AFAB Language Used | Event Request

CW: Dubious Consent, Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Semi-Public Sex,

After retiring from hero work, Tony opened up an academy to teach hopeful heroes, tech lovers, and future entrepreneurs. The academy teaches students starting from age 14 and above. It's a combination of high school and college. There are a lot of campuses all over New York. You finished high school in Midtown High and applied to join the academy. Tony loved your application so much that he awarded you with a special scholarship. It’s only granted to one person every four years. After your first meeting with him, he offered to buy you dinner. You didn't think it was strange. Why would it be?

You look up at Tony with an anxiety filled and hesitantly lustful gaze. He came onto you during dinner and you were afraid you’d lose your scholarship if you denied him. You were also afraid you'd seriously regret giving up the chance to fuck him. So now you're staring at his pussy as he grinds down on your clothed cock. His t-dick is poking out of his bush of hair and the sight makes you worry you’ll come too early.

“Don't worry about getting a job anymore. I’ll pay for everything you need.” He rolls his head back. “Gonna get you a credit card..use it whenever.”

You feel more like a prostitute than a scholarship student.

“Fuck…ever been with an older guy before?” He asks. You can't deny that he looks so fucking sexy like this. The way he's rubbing his pussy on your boner is definitely helping you forget why you were nervous in the first place. Your underwear is drenched with his slick. It's undeniably hot.

“Never…with anyone.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out. “Good. I’ll take the lead.” He stops and leans into your neck, sloppily kissing it and as he removes your boxers. He moves away from your face and leans his body closer to your cock. He points at the part of his stomach where the tip of your cock is. “That's how deep you’ll be inside me.”

He grips your shoulders and hovers over your cock. You gulp. He sinks himself down onto your length, a confident smirk plastered on his face.

“I haven’t done it in so long–” He moans as you completely fill him up, his back arched. He rolls his hips and strokes his t-dick. Seeing a guy like him use you like a toy is too hot for your own good. You never knew you were into this kind of thing. You could probably come just like this. You’ll try not to though, it wouldn't turn out well if you got him pregnant. “You want me to move, baby?”

“I…I wanna see you come first.”

“If that's what you want.” He strokes himself harder. Your heart is racing. You can feel it as he reaches his peak. His cunt is giving you nice, wet hugs. He rolls his head back, his pussy seizing its movements for a moment before resuming. He squirts, his slick covering your face. You lick your lips. You’ve been able to stop yourself from coming this whole time but you're not sure how much longer you’ll last.

He grinds down on you and moves his hand away from his sensitive cock. After a while, he eventually starts riding you. You don't think you’ll be able to last.

“Wa- wait- wait—” You panic. “I’m- I think–”

“It's okay, sweetheart.” He keeps bouncing. “I can't get pregnant.”

You would let out a long sigh of relief if it weren't for your sudden orgasm. You bite down on your lip as he keeps going despite that. It feels good and insanely overwhelming. You can't believe you just came inside Tony fucking Stark. “‘s too- too much-” You moan.

“I’m not satisfied yet. You’ll let Daddy keep bouncing on your cock, won't you, baby?”

You nod. “Ye- yes-”

“Good boy~” He lets out a satisfied sigh. “Letting Daddy use you like a cute little toy.” He loves the way your body is reacting. You're so inexperienced and sensitive, he knows he’ll have a lot of fun with you. He’s glad he changed careers. You stare at your cum spilling out with each thrust. It's so erotic you feel like you're gonna pass out.

Tony notices the subject of your gaze. “You like that? How your cum drips out of my pussy? Hm?” He grins. “Wanna keep filling me up, baby?”

You nod rapidly. “Yes- yes, Daddy-”

His body stutters as he comes again. He stops, his walls flexing around your cock again. Tony leans into your ear. “You know what a mating press is?” He asks.

You shudder. “Ye- yeah-” You grab his waist and manage to flip yourselves over. Sweat drips down your forehead as you grab Tony’s thighs. You move him into position and just looking at him like this makes you come again. Your cock starts to soften. “Sorry-”

“‘S okay, baby. It's cute.” He laughs. “We can keep working on your endurance another time.”

You walk into Tony’s office, wearing an outfit he bought for you. As he stands up, you notice his belt is unbuckled and his pants are unzipped. He leans against the wall and you instantly make your way over to him.

“I’ve been waiting for you all day.” His hands slither onto your shoulders, his soft lips graze your ear. “I couldn’t stop touching myself. I had to cancel my meeting this afternoon.”

Your breath hitches.

“Are you gonna help me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah-” You watch him pull away from you and remove his pants and underwear. He shows the damp spot in his white boxers to you. You're already hard. He motions for you to kneel, making you feel like a dog. You look at his pussy eagerly, excited to see it up close. You already know what he wants you to do.

You wrap your lips around his t-cock and suck it.

“Yes~ like that, baby-” He shivers. You slip two fingers inside him, one at a time, and try your best to finger him properly. Your mouth on his cock is more than enough to distract him from your noob-ness. He doesn't seem to care about the amount of noise he's making either. Given his personality, you don't feel any anxiety over it. No one would dare enter his office when they hear him. “Fuck, right there~!” His hip thrusts involuntarily. You managed to find his g-spot. You do your best to pleasure him with it and by the sound of his voice and the clenching you feel around your fingers, you know you're doing a good job.

“Yes– yes—!” He squirts. This time you get to really taste him. You slowly move your head back, a line of spit connecting you to his cock, then lap your tongue all over his pussy. Tony twitches with pleasure.

You stop, then look at him like a puppy awaiting orders. He curls his index and middle finger, signifying that he wants you to stand up. He quickly frees your boner from your pants. “I still have one more meeting today.” He takes your wrists and has you hold onto his waist. He mouths ‘hold me’ so you pick him up. “But since you come so fast, I’ll let you fuck me.”

You press your forehead onto his shoulder. “Thank you-” You breathe out, sinking into his cunt. “You- you feel so good, Daddy-” He's sopping wet.

Tony wraps his arms around you as you sloppily thrust inside him. Your desperation turns him on so much.

“Can I- fuck- can I come inside?”

“Mhm~” He hums. “‘M gonna keep it inside. Walk around with your cum in me.”

You shudder, your cock shooting ropes of cum inside him. His laugh is breathless and lustful. “You're too cute.” He smiles as you bring him to his desk, laying him in a way to prevent your cum from spilling out as well as you can. You grab his boxers and slip them onto him.

You watch as he stands up and fixes himself up to look presentable. “I’ll see you tonight.” He winks, leaving the room.

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #dom male reader #ftm character #wicks🕯️events #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #marvel smut #marvel x male reader #bottom tony stark

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carnalcrows · 1 day ago

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BREAKING THE RULES - NAMGYU

pairing: ftm namgyu x guard! top! male reader

synopsis: Nam-gyu makes life even harder in the games; and he makes sure you know it.

content warnings: 18+, slightly ooc namgyu, thanos doesn't exist here, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, mentions of pregnancy, breeding, squirting, creampie.

word count: 1.9k

Nam-gyu was a menace. Not in a violent way—no, he wasn’t the type to throw punches or scheme behind people's backs. He was just loud. Chaotic. Endlessly pushing his luck in ways that made your job infinitely harder.

You, one of the masked guards, had the misfortune of being assigned to watch over him.

“Oh, come on, do you really have to stand so close?” Nam-gyu whined, sprawled out on the cold metal bunk, looking up at you with an exaggerated pout. “You’re like my own personal shadow. It’s creepy.”

You didn’t respond. Guards weren’t supposed to talk to the players.

But Nam-gyu? He didn’t give a fuck about rules.

“Are you at least hot under that mask?” he continued, squinting up at you. “Tall, broad, mysterious—what’s under there? A secret K-drama heartthrob?”

Your lips twitched under the mask, but you stayed silent.

Then he gasped. “Wait, what if you’re ugly? Oh my god, what if you’re, like, a forty-year-old uncle with bad skin?”

You exhaled sharply, already regretting what you were about to do. “Shut up and sleep.”

Nam-gyu sat up so fast he nearly smacked his head on the bunk above. “Ohhh? He speaks! And—wait, wait, that was deep—oh my god, are you hot?”

You turned away, cursing yourself.

“Wait, at least tell me if you’re single!” he whisper-yelled.

Despite the life-or-death situation, Nam-gyu never stopped flirting with you.

During the games, when most players were drenched in sweat and panic, he still managed to shoot you little smirks like this was all some messed-up dating show.

After a particularly brutal round, he was doubled over, panting, hands on his knees. But even then, he looked up at you, grinning through the exhaustion.

“If I survive this, you owe me a date.”

“You’re not supposed to talk to me,” you reminded him.

His grin widened. “And yet… you keep answering.”

The first time you really broke the rules was when you caught him wandering the hallways after curfew.

You found him leaning casually against the wall like he wasn’t committing a punishable offense.

“You know you’re not supposed to be out,” you sighed, arms crossed.

“Oops,” he said, not looking the least bit sorry. “Guess I got lost. You're gonna punish me?”

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. The way he leaned in slightly, the way his voice dropped lower—it was all intentional.

“Get back to your room before someone sees,” you ordered, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Nam-gyu tilted his head. “You gonna carry me there, big guy?”

You groaned, grabbing his arm and dragging him back to the dorms. He didn’t resist. If anything, he definitely enjoyed it.

One night, during your usual patrol, his voice whispered through the dark.

“Psst. Guard dude. Come here.”

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer to his bunk. “What?”

“You’re my favorite guard,” he murmured, a lazy grin on his lips.

“I’m the only guard who tolerates you,” you corrected.

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “That means something.”

Then, his fingers ghosted over your gloved hand. A barely-there touch.

“If I die tomorrow,” he said softly, voice losing its usual playfulness, “I just want you to know—I totally had a crush on you.”

Your heart pounded harder than it should have.

At some point, you gave in.

Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the fact that Nam-gyu was so damn persistent. But you found yourself alone with him in a supply closet one night.

“This is so against the rules,” you muttered, hands gripping his waist as he smirked up at you.

“Then why haven’t you stopped me?” he teased, breath warm against your mask.

You exhaled sharply. “Because you won’t shut up otherwise.”

“Ohhh, so this is how you make me quiet?” he grinned, fingers trailing over your chest. “Noted.”

The moment was charged, the air thick with something neither of you wanted to name. Nam-gyu was pressed against the shelves of the dimly lit supply closet, his breath uneven as he stared up at you with that maddening smirk.

"You gonna stand there all night, big guy?" he murmured, voice teasing but breathy. "Or are you actually gonna do something?"

Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily. This was reckless—so reckless—but Nam-gyu had spent days, weeks even, pushing you to this point. Testing your patience, pulling you into his orbit, and now that he had you where he wanted you, he wasn’t about to let go.

You exhaled sharply, then tilted his chin up with two fingers. His smirk faltered, replaced by something else—anticipation, maybe.

And then you kissed him.

Nam-gyu let out a surprised noise before melting into it, arms sliding up to grip your shoulders. His lips were warm and eager, moving against yours with a desperation that made your head spin. He kissed like he talked—relentlessly, all-consuming, like he wanted to prove something.

You didn’t let him.

Instead, you took control, deepening the kiss, pressing him further against the shelves. A soft gasp escaped him when your fingers dug into his waist, grounding him. His hands fisted in your uniform, pulling you closer, as if there was any space left between you.

"You’re—so unfair," he mumbled between kisses, voice slightly dazed.

"You talk too much," you muttered, capturing his lips again before he could come up with another snarky remark.

Nam-gyu didn’t fight it. If anything, he clung to you even more, tilting his head to give you better access. His breath hitched when your hands roamed lower, fingers pressing into the curve of his back, holding him steady against you.

The heat between you was overwhelming, the danger of getting caught only making it worse. But neither of you cared. Not when he was sighing into your mouth, not when his fingers tangled in your hair, not when the world outside this little room ceased to exist.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Nam-gyu blinked up at you, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"You’re really bad at following rules," he murmured, voice thick with amusement.

You exhaled, resting your forehead against his. "And you’re really bad at shutting up."

Nam-gyu grinned. "Guess we make a good team, then."

And somehow, you knew there was no going back.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and way too heated for your own good, he chuckled.

“You’re really bad at following rules,” he teased, straightening his uniform.

You adjusted your mask, trying to calm your racing heart. “And you’re really bad at shutting up.”

“Guess we make a good team, then.”

You should’ve been worried. You should’ve been more careful. But when Nam-gyu looked at you like that—like you were the only thing keeping him sane in this nightmare—you knew there was no going back.

The next morning, you tried to pretend nothing had happened.

You stood at your usual post, arms crossed, mask in place, as if Nam-gyu hadn’t kissed you breathless in a supply closet.

But he wasn’t about to let you forget. Oh no.

He sauntered into the cafeteria, stretching his arms dramatically.

“Man, I had the craziest dream last night,” he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

You tensed.

“So there I was, trapped in a tiny room with this huge guy,” Nam-gyu continued, resting his chin in his palm. “And let me tell you—he had strong hands. Held me real tight, y’know?”

You clenched your fists.

The other players gave him a weird look. “Uh… what kinda dream was that?”

Nam-gyu sighed, all fake wistfulness. “A good one.” Then, without looking at you, he added, “Shame it was just a dream.”

You walked out, shaking your head.

That night, you found him again where he wasn’t supposed to be—this time, loitering near the guard dorms.

“You want to get caught, don’t you?” you sighed, grabbing his arm.

“Maybe,” he grinned, stepping closer. “Or maybe I just wanted to see you.”

You tried to ignore the way your pulse jumped. “You’re reckless.”

“And you’re obsessed with following rules,” he teased, tilting his head. “Except when it comes to me.”

You really should’ve pushed him away. Instead, you backed him against the wall.

“Go back to your room,” you ordered, voice low.

“Make me,” he whispered.

And oh, you did.

Your hands slammed against the wall on either side of Nam-gyu’s head, caging him in. His breath hitched, but that damn smirk never left his face. He thrived off this—the tension, the danger, the way you always swore you wouldn’t fall for his games but did anyway.

“Say that again,” you murmured, your voice dropping into something dangerously low.

Nam-gyu’s lashes fluttered, and for the first time, a flicker of nervous excitement crossed his face. But he was never one to back down. “Make me,” he repeated, this time softer, more breathless.

Your patience snapped.

Your lips crashed against his, claiming him in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Nam-gyu gasped, his fingers instantly tangling in your uniform, gripping the fabric like he needed to steady himself. You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your own, his chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths as you pressed even closer.

He tasted like trouble, and you had never wanted anything more.

Nam-gyu let out a muffled whimper as your hand slid down to his waist, pulling him flush against you. He was so much smaller than you, but he didn’t shy away—if anything, he leaned in, arching slightly as if daring you to take more.

Your hands trailed to the hem of his sweats, tugging them and his boxers down to reveal– his pussy? You certainly didn’t expect that.

“See– I probably should’ve mentioned this earlier but–”

You silenced him with another kiss, deeper this time, your hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. His breath hitched when your teeth grazed his bottom lip, his body trembling against you.

Hastily pulling your own pants down, you pulled out your erection– aligning it with his cunt. Common sense had gone too far out the window now– you were too horny to care.

Before he could say anything, you sheathed yourself inside of him with one swift thrust– making his head hit the wall behind him. He gasped– and you used the opportunity to press your lips to his once more, preventing him from making any of those pretty noises (which you so desperately wanted to hear– but it was too dangerous now).

You pulled out of his cunt almost all the way before slamming back in– the head of your cock almost entering his cervix. His back arched– hands gripping tightly onto your shoulders.

You thrusted in and out of him at an almost animalistic pace– being pent up for so long certainly had its advantages.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck– and used the hand that wasn’t holding him up to cover his mouth– muffling his whimpers and moans, almost divine music to your ears.

Without warning– he climaxed, squirting all over your cock and the front of your uniform. Seeing him come undone did it for you– and you released soon after– pressing into him with such ferociousness and painting his insides a pearly white that he was sure he was going to get pregnant.

After a solid minute– you slowly pulled out of him, still keeping him upright. His head sagged onto your shoulder, the exhaustion getting to his head.

The sudden sound of approaching footsteps made you freeze.

The door to the small room opened– and outside was none other than Square Guard 001.

You were fucked.

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cowgiri · 2 days ago

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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | a steamy night with sylus

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 | choking, degradation (slut + whore) , dacryphilia, slight dumbification, breeding kink, cum eating, overstimulation, clit play, sex toys, forced masturbation, alcohol, a whole lotta spit, penetration (v), pure PORN, pet names (kitten, duh), sort of mean and angry sylus

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 | 2.1k

you sit under the gleaming beam of the moon. your body hot and layered in a sheen layer of sweat. you fell prey to his burning gaze—his smoky ruby eyes never failing to pierce through your soul. his presence felt even more looming, more intimidating in the dark. he sat there, entirely unfazed with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar flaring in the other. under the dark cloak of the night, his hair almost appeared to be kissed by the glow of the moon .

a sly smirk plays on his face as he pulls the glass away from his pursed lips. he takes a slow drag from his cigar that creates a iridescent cloud of smoke as he exhales. you never knew you could be so turned on from someone watching you try and get yourself off—especially that someone being sylus.

to say he looked fucking hot would be an understatement. his hair is slightly slick from the heat of the room. small drops of sweat coating his forehead. his hair frazzled from the intense make out session on the way to the bedroom. his tie loose from him continuously fidgeting with it in the car. his sleeves rolled up giving you the glorious sight of his veiny forearms.

your ears fill with the moans that were pouring from your mouth, the lewd sounds echoed through the room.

you were on your knees in front of the brown leather chair he was sitting in. your eyes were glued to the tent in his pants that you were at eye level with. your knees chafe against the carpet of the room as you continue to ride the dildo—your body aching for an orgasm. it was your 'punishment' for misbehaving.

"what a whiny slut," he says as he roughly grips on your hair. he leans down bumping his forehead with yours gently as he settles down his cup and bringing his cigar to your lips.

"have a try, sweetie," he says placing it into your mouth. the weight of the cigar felt heavy against your swollen lips. your lungs fill with the sour smoke, clawing its way down your throat before settling in your lungs. a violent cough erupts from your chest from the burn. as the your cough subsides, he places the cigar on its tray. he seems amused by the look on your face that has yuck written all over it.

his fingers prods at your lips signaling you to open your mouth. his middle and index finger fill your throat as he harshly shoves them into your mouth. he explores the wet canvas and soft tissue of your throat as you slightly gag at the sudden penetration.

your eyes brink with tears as spit drips from the corners of your mouth. if sylus loved doing one thing to you, it was to make a complete incoherent mess of you. he loved watching your drool drip on his dick as you struggled to fit his cock into your mouth. he loved watching your eyes fog with delirious lust and leak those pretty tears he loved so much. he loved watching drool drag down your chest as he fucks your throat raw to the point you could barely speak the day after. he was certainly more than rough and you loved it.

"why don't you put that mouth to use in a different way?" he smirks as he removes his digits from your throat. he grips at his belt and slowly unbuckles it, drawing out your anticipation even longer. you quickly find his belt around you neck, pulling you towards his crotch.

"unzip it," he daunts. you reach out to undo his zipper with shaky hands. the belt tightens around your throat.

"who said you could use your hands?"

your teeth bite on the cold metal zipper of his slacks.

"that's more like it, kitten," he groans in approval as you unzip his pants. your teeth meet the band of his briefs next.

his hard cock comes to view as you tugged them down enough to free him—you practically drooled at the sight of his throbbing cock. the toy you were bouncing on was nothing compared to him.

"how shameless."

your mouth is instantly stuffed with his cock as you struggle to breathe for air from the sudden action. he brushes against the back of your throat as pulls on the belt to force you to take more of him.

"relax your throat."

now, this is a punishment that you didn't enjoy.

"did i tell you to stop moving? keep bouncing," he groans as he continues to ram into your throat. tears begin to prick your eyes once again. you oblige and start to slowly pick up your pace on the toy that was now slick in your liquids.

"do you want to come on my cock instead of that little plastic toy?"

you eagerly nod while choking on his length as you look up at him with teary eyes. you were pretty sure by now that your mascara and eyeliner have vanished along with prints of lipstick that smeared his dick.

"what makes you think a worthless whore like you deserves to come around my cock, hm?"

his thrusts down your throat quicken and become harsher. saliva drips from the corners of your mouth as you flatten your tongue under the base of his cock to take him deeper.

"fuck, get up here," he orders as he pulls his cock out of your mouth and releases the belt. you feel weak to your knees as he pulls you into his lap—your back resting against his heaving chest.

he softly pushes your hair away from your your cheeks and lightly brushes them. he was angry but he never let it get in the way of his consideration for you. you plant a soft kiss on his lips. from all the work your throat has been doing, it felt raw and thirst had taken over.

"i'm thirsty though," you whine.

"thirsty you say?" he smirks.

"please," you beg—your voice comes out in a rasp. he leans over grabbing this cup of whisky.

"open, baby."

he grabs your jaw light and turns your head as you open your mouth.

he takes a mouthful of the cold whisky before transferring it into your mouth. the burn of whisky stings the soreness in your throat in the slightest bit.

"good girl," he murmurs as you opens your mouth again after you swallow. this time you're not meet with the whisky but a string of his warm saliva. you stare up at him with dazed, half lidded eyes with your tongue sticking out asking for more of his warmth.

"god, you're a needy, little slut," he grunts before he grants your wish. his spit coats your tongue before he softly sucks on it. your tongue mingles with his as he engulfs you into an open mouthed kiss. the sensation of his lips on yours made your mind fuzzy.

a moan slips into his mouth as his cool fingers slide down your abdomen to your soaked cunt. his heated touch leaves your skin blazing. his lips leave yours as he peppers kisses on your shoulder.

you softly whimper as you feel the pads of his fingertips teasingly rubbing up and down your slit. you clench around the cold air as he purposefully misses your needy clit.

"what's wrong?" he asks in a cunning tone while licking up the side of your neck. "want me to touch here?" his fingers ever so lightly graze over your sensitive bud. your back arches against his chest as you eagerly nod your head.

"p..please," you beg in between gaspy breathes. it was like torture to you.

"how should i touch it? like this?"

he slowly starts patterning circles with his fluid soaked finger against your hardening nub. the pace barely brought you any pleasure.

"more, please," you beg in a low moan. "more."

you hungrily move your hips up against his hand seeking friction.

his free hand roughly grips on your hips as he pins them back down. "behave yourself, kitten. i can't keep being gracious."

he dips down to your entrance gathering the secretions of your arousal before traveling back to the bud of flesh. your clit quivers under his callous touch as he gently moves the nub from side to side—just how you loved it. your nails dig into his forearms as he applies the slightest bit more pressure. you could feel him twitch against your back.

your eyes softly flutter as pleasure burns in your chest. your cunt tingles in warmth from the peculiar sensation. he happily hums in pleasure in response to your lewd mewls that rang through the room.

"she's getting so hard, i bet if i blew on her you'd cum, hm?" he rasps into your ear. his words push you closer to the edge as you tether towards your climax. your head fogs in pleasure as your clit violently twitches against finger. a loud gasp falls from your lips as the ecstatic senses of your orgasm vibrates your skin. your body lifelessly rests against his chest as you come down from your intense orgasm.

"ah, ah. we're not done yet," he darkly chuckles as he quickly tosses you onto the softness of the mattress. your back feels blazed in contrast to the cool comforter.

in moments he's hovering over you with his mouth sloppily melting into yours. he unbuttons his shirt with one hand as he pumps himself ready in the other. he tosses the material to the side as you admire the way his hand works against his flushed dick. the tip blushing red and dripping beadings of pre-cum. grunts of pleasure poured from his lips as the veins of his cock visibly pulsed.

"i'm gonna fuck your pussy pretty and decorate you with my cum, kitten," he groans as he aligns himself with your drooling hole. he grits his teeth as he dips himself into your warm cunt. his face contours in pleasure with knit eyebrows and blushed cheeks. "isn't that what you want?"

you excessively nod your head as you grip on his flexing biceps. your back arches into the mattress as he begins to ruthlessly rock into you. he swiftly folds your knees to your chest. his dark gaze lingering where you two are joined.

the room is soon filled with slapping skin and lewd moans. you hum in pleasure as his breath fans over the skin of your heated face. you emerge yourself in the darkness of your eyelids as you focus on your building orgasm.

your eyes fling open at the feeling of his callous hand wrapped around your throat.

your eyes flutter as colored dots pirouette in your vision. his grip on your neck tightens as tears stream down your face. the sound of his skin slapping against yours fades into a distance as pleasure overrides you. a tingle of ecstasy rushes up your spin and through your veins. your soaking cunt flutters around his pulsing hardness as he fills you up with his seed. the overwhelming pleasure nearly knocking you unconscious.

"fuck," he groans as he continues to pump into your fluttering cunt, riding out his climax. his hand caresses your jaw as he plants a soft kiss on your lips.

you struggle to catch your breath. the fresh air in your lungs feels reviving. he kisses the skin of your neck and trails down the cervices of your breasts before settling at your leaking hole.

"i told you i was gonna fuck it pretty, princess. all swollen and dripping in my cum," he whispers as he runs his fingers up and down the folds of your cunt. "i fucked you so well, it won't stop twitching when i touch it."

your face heats from his explicit commentary. your back arches into the fluffy mattress as he sucks at your tender clit. his tongue eagerly darts in and out as he collects his cum on his tongue. you could nearly cry from the overstimulation.

he's soon hovering over you prying your mouth open with his tongue. your chest vibrates as the string of his warm, pearly cum spills onto your lips. you connect together as you savor the taste of his tangy sperm. his tongue explores every at corner of your mouth as you completely swallow his cum.

"you did so good, baby," he coos as his forehead rests against yours.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: two posts in one day, who is she?? there so much more that i can't wait to write, if y'all thought this was intense just wait, i am very much still warming up my engine 🫣! anywhooo, i hope you whores enjoyed because i know i NEED sylus inside me like yesterday <33

#⟢ ⸻ sylus #love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut

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vxlentinescookies · 2 days ago

Note

Ajax listen,,,,listen to me Ajax-

Self Aware AU, where the cookies come to the player's/reader's world. Pick whichever characters you wanna include, I just need to see this 🙏

→ ❛Part of your world❜

→ Characters ; Longan Dragon Cookie, Burning Spice Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie, Timekeeper Cookie & Millennial Tree Cookie → Quote ; ❛❛If someone came to you and told you “One day you’ll have those who you love the most in the palm of your hand”, well… you never thought that’d become true, nor that it’d be a metaphor…❜❜ → Genre ; Headcanons/Drabble → A/N ; This took me a whole ass night to make and 2500+ words to finish, I hope you like it /lh

Longan Dragon Cookie

“How quaint… to believe someone like you lives in such a… small place”

Having Longan Dragon in your home was… curious to say the least. Not something you expected, yet here you were, with a dragon looking at you as they squatted in your bedroom.

Longan would be hypercritical of the place you lived, noting things like “This looks cheap” or “Its far too small”

Despite that, Longan would be quite intrigued in your life, wanting to see how you worked or what you did, they’d follow you around when not sitting in your living room and meditating.

Nevertheless, they’re there for a reason, they’re with you for a reason, and they’ll make that reason known very, very soon.

It’d take Longan a few months, but eventually, they would come to sit by your side at the table, not sitting down on a chair but instead, sitting down by your side quite literally. They’d stare at you for long moments before finally leaning their head on your shoulder, the weight catching you off guard as you looked at them.

“... I’ll make sure you live like you deserve one of these days” They’d say, and in that moment, you understood why there had been so many disappearances of delinquents and robbers nearby…

If you’re wondering what they’d do in your world, then…

One of the few favorite activities of Longan was to read, so much so, that you had to request books from the library more often than not, but with the way Longan was reading them… It had just been a few months, and yet this dragon had consumed almost all of your local library’s books. So, when they finished reading most of your books, they’d chose to write them. And they’d write about what they saw, about everything they had seen around them, everything they had seen in this new world, and in some sense, it was intriguing to see how a dragon explored the new world they were in, the little things that werent intriguing to you were greatly important to them, in a way that got you even more intrigued by how they saw you.

“... You want to know how I see you?” They’d ask.

You knew fully well that you shouldnt expect much, after all, this was Longan Dragon we were talking about, they werent a kind dragon, they saw cookies as lesser beings, and humans now by extensions, but as you asked them that question, they’d only smile and pat your head softly.

“You’re the reason Im here… Of course I would think highly of you”

A genuine smile, it made your heart flutter as they spoke, a hand going to cup your chin in it.

“You’re interesting, perhaps, one of the most interesting things I’ve seen in this world.”

Besides writing, they’d follow you around and take note of everything you’d do… And by night, they’d curl by your side, taking most of the bed as they allow you to take rest in their chest, as they allow you to take rest in their breaths while their hands thread on your hair.

Burning Spice Cookie

“How intriguing…! Never would I have expected your home to be so… so… erm…”

Another one who seems to heavily judge your house, but also, another one who appears in your home kneeling because it is so small compared to him.

Either way, he gets eased into the ambient quite easily, his search for entertainment leading him to see through everything and all the world has to offer.

Until he… gets bored, again, because your world isnt as different from his (and in some sense, it is… actually… more boring than his old world…)

So, he moves to the next thing closest to him for entertainment!

“Little one, come here”

He’d call forward to you once, looking at you with dark yet fiery eyes and an everlasting smile, though you knew this once it hid something, after all, despite him coming to your world for x or y reason, it involved you, it always involved you…

“Entertain me” Would be his words once you approached him, his smile becoming only more cryptic as you lifted an eyebrow at his voice. Entertain, him? In what sense or way would you be able to entertain someone akin to a god?

Seeming to sense your doubt, Burning Spice would only come and hold you from your shirt, lifting you up before staring at you and then…

“Hahahah, you should’ve looked at your face, you really are an interesting one!”

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

Besides seeking something for entertainment, Burning spice is in some sense able to somewhat pass through the crowd, and by that I mean he can somewhat pass as just a very tall human. Nonetheless, between choosing to hit the gym and sending you pictures, he’ll also follow you around, finding even the most monotonous tasks fairly entertaining if it has you in it. Its a weird combo, being outside with a dude in a hoodie and sweat pants following you around while doing groceries, or being in the metro and getting a fairly nice picture of him flexing for you. Burning spice is a menace…

“Aye, welcome home! I took care of some pesky people while you were gone… It was fun hearing their screams…”

…in far more ways than one.

Either way, you two also share a bed, its not like you have a choice with how clingy he can become when sleeping, pulling you in his arms in a heated hug (in the sense that he literally irradiates heat) while snoring loudly, you’ve gotten complaints from neighbors (if you live in an apartment), but somehow… they’ve… they’ve quieted down recently… However, when you ask Burning Spice, he just laughs it off.

Shadow Milk Cookie

“Woowee, what do we have here, sweetheart?”

Not as judgemental of your home, no, for once someone isnt as focused on where you live but…

He is focused on you, looking at you up and down, before hitting his head on the roof of your room, ouch!

He spends most of the days following you around though, using his magic to stay hidden from most people, so much that people may find you crazy for seeing you talk to… nothing!

Either way, much like the others, he’s there for a reason…

“Why Im here?”

You asked Shadow Milk once, after a good few months, what the jester had come to do in your own home. In fact, it perplexed you so much that when you asked him, the feeling seemed to be shared. It was… intriguing to say the least, but he’d only smile before clasping his hands together and saying in a song-esque tune.

“Becuase you’re sooooooooooo interesting, darlin! Just look at you, how could I NOT come here with you?”

Truth to be told, he saw you as who you really were, in some sense he saw you as someone who didnt fall for lies easily, he saw you as someone who saw beyond that and you were… interesting. You were a shot in the dark, and he just had, to have you near.

“You’re so silly, darlin, sososososo silly” He’d add in, patting your head softly as you only smiled and blushed slightly, even while knowing his smile and gaze hid a million of thoughts, and a million of even more ideas.

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

When not reading around in your home, or following you to the library to read some books, he’d be looking over your shoulder, reading every single note, watching every single thing you do, it makes him curious, how someone so quaint has him wrapped around your finger. And yet, he cant help but smile at the idea of being just like that, wrapped around your finger in a sweet loving embrace.

He’d be the most romantic of the bunch, the one that makes it the most prominent that he’s there with you because he likes you, he dosent even hide it fully despite his jester-esque persona, he just cant hide it! So, when you ask him about what he was doing one day in the balcony of your apartment, he’d only turn and smile softly.

“Why, I'm recreating one of your world’s theatre plays!” He’d say, and you make a mental note to go to the theatre more often… “And you’ve come just in time, silly (y/n)! I need someone to play dearest Juliet!”

You add that it is a tragic love story, and he only brushes it off, adding in that “actors are actors, sweetheart, now come in and act!” so you do, and you have a fun time doing a monologue to a bunch of people who stay and watch, before claps fill the air.

And when time comes to bed, he’ll be the first to curl up in your bed, curl like a cat who welcomes you into his arms so sweetly, you feel the scent of milk, lactonic as it is, and for once you feel safe.

Timekeeper Cookie

“Well, look what we have here!”

To find Timekeeper in your home means to have done something either right or wrong. In your case, its right.

They’re very much curious about everything from the things you do on a daily basis to your home and how electronics work.

Still, and much like some others in this list, they become quickly bored about it, choosing to focus on you as main form of entertainment

Still, you can expect certain shenanigans to ensue.

It was late at night when it happened, just as you were playing when a portal opened and dragged you inside of it. You were scared shitless that much is true but, when you saw the person who dragged you in, you simply could sigh in slight annoyance.

“What? Cant I drag my favorite person in for some fun?” They’d say with that ever present smile, Timekeeper chuckling as she smiled widely at you, before noticing… “Oh, right, it is night where you’re from, guess I took you out at the wrong time!”

You huffed and yawned, before sitting up and looking at your phone… Right, it didnt exactly work when in time rifts, but then again that raised the question, why did they bring you here to begin with? As if being presented with the question loud and clear, they’d clear her throat and speak yet again.

“I simply wanted to see you, nothing wrong with that now?” They’d say quite mischievously, picking you up and bringing you into her lap “Go on, lets- Hm?”

You’d fall asleep into her arms as soon as she picked you up, your calm quiet face being shown to her as you were held in her arms. Well, guess fun had to wait.

If you’re wondering what they’d do in your world, then…

Much like the others, they also enjoy reading, however, they focus on reading about engineering and mechanics, more so about the mechanics of your world to see if they’re any different from the ones of her world. To say there isnt much difference is but an understatement, there was a hefty amount of difference counting the technology from the TBD was far more advanced, but, even then, you’d be able to get the timekeeper intrigued by the nature of your world.

“Tell me more about your world, c’mon!” They’d ask one day, floating from a time rift as you cooked dinner.

Unlike the others Timekeeper wasnt keen on staying in one place, still finding comfort in being inside time rifts most of the time, though they still visited you more often than not, more often than other places. Seeing them you’d ask her what she wanted to know, to which she’d hum before saying.

“Anything, I dont really find it entertaining seeing it myself—Explain your world to me yourself, doll!”

So when night comes after a long day chatting, it is you who clings to her softly, as she watches you sleep cozily by her side. She smiles and pats your head, because as much as she’d prefer to fade into a time rift, she knows she cant let you go so easily, no. Not when you finally showed her happiness.

“Interesting, this place is… quite interesting…”

Seeing someone as tall as Millennial Tree in your home is but a piece of the whole puzzle. You are dumbfounded but in some sense, seeing them kneel to greet you is almost laughable.

He’s big, very tall and a gentle giant overall, and it shows when he holds your hand and tells you that your world is interesting to him.

He’s just as curious as everyone else, looking at everything, looking at everyone, he’s curious about you, curious about your world, yet he knows it’d be dangerous to leave on his own.

So, you take him to the forest, planing on leaving him go but…

“I dont want to leave you alone…”

He’d speak with conviction, looking at you as your eyes widened and your face dropped. Just what you feared would happen. He’d hold your hands together, looking at you with some concern before smiling softly, kissing both of your palms.

“I came here for a reason, that much I know, and I know that reason is within you… Allow me to stay by your side, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it worth it.”

You have no power in you to say no, to turn down his offer after his gentle and sweet words, that day you realized that perhaps he did come to your world for a reason, a world so clad in evil and pain…

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

When not travelling nor reading, he’s at home with you, cooking or revisiting each place he has gone to to help. He’s become… a sort of Messiah, you cant help it, become public enemy no.1 to some, and a savior to others, it truly depended on who you were asking. Your gaze would follow his as he trailed on a book you both were reading before he’d lean and kiss your forehead, things were… easy, happy with him there… You felt much happier.

“Is something the matter, sapling?” He’d ask, his gentleness carrying over to his voice as he hummed at your words saying it was nothing, but he knew better, still, he wouldnt push. “Are you perhaps tired?”

You pouted slightly before nodding, yes, you were quite tired, but you didnt want to admit to it. Still, he’d nod before moving the book to the side and lifting you into his arms. He’d carry you to your shared bedroom, careful on his way there before setting you on the bed with him, cozily, softly, carrying you to him as he pressed his lips on your forehead and your body to his.

“Sleep well, sunshine” He’d say, brushing hairs off your face before speaking again “Thank you for accepting me into your world…”

Honestly, how could you not at this point? With that thought in your head… You fell asleep.

#🌙;stellar headcanons #🌙;moonlit dreams #⭐; Self Aware AU #longan dragon cookie x reader #burning spice cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #timekeeper cookie x reader #millennial tree cookie x reader #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader #cookie run ovenbreak x reader #crob x reader

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scarletwinterxx · 3 days ago

Text

i only think of you, will we be together soon? - choi seungcheol scenario

soooo hellooo ~ this is just a quick epilogue/pt 2 of the seungcheol scenario i wrote, you can read it here. I just thought i should atleast write their first kiss🥺🥺🥺 and it's soooo cute. anyways i hope you like it🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It was an unusual sight—Seungcheol sleeping in on a weekend.

Usually, he'd be up early, either at the gym or getting a head start on errands. But today, he was sprawled across his bed, face buried in his pillow, the blanket barely covering his bare back. His room was dim, the only light filtering through the gap in his curtains.

When you let yourself into his apartment, calling out his name and getting no response, you knew exactly where to find him. Quietly opening the door to his bedroom, you peeked in, finding him sound asleep. His hair was a mess, his broad shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths.

A mischievous grin spread across your face. Creeping toward the bed, you carefully climbed onto it, trying not to wake him too soon. Then, without warning, you flopped onto his back, draping yourself over him like a blanket.

"Cheol," you called softly, your voice sing-song as you poked his shoulder. "Wake up~."

He groaned into his pillow, his voice muffled but clearly displeased. "Five more minutes..."

"Nope," you chirped, wiggling a little to get comfortable on top of him. "I need you to drive me somewhere!"

He cracked one eye open, groaning again as he turned his head slightly. "Where?" His voice was raspy, thick with sleep, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

"The dog café!" you announced, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I’ve been wanting to go, and you promised you’d take me!"

He sighed dramatically, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Why can’t you let me sleep in peace?"

"Because you’re Seungcheol, and you love me,"

The smile on your face growing, since that moment at the beach there's this blanket of unspoken feelings that doesn't really need to said because at the end of the day he knows you and you know him.

At that, he cracked a small smile, though his eyes were still closed. "You’re lucky I do."

He shifted beneath you, effortlessly flipping over so you were lying on his chest instead of his back. His arms lazily wrapped around you, trapping you in place.

"Cheol, you’re supposed to be getting up," you protested, though you didn’t try to move

"Mm," he hummed, pulling you closer. "Five minutes. Then we’ll go to your dog café."

"That’s what you said before!"

He chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, but this time I mean it."

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win. But as he held you, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into comfort, you figured maybe five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

After Seungcheol finally got out of bed (which, in reality, took more than just five minutes), the two of you headed out to the dog café you’d been pestering him about all week. He still looked groggy as he drove, his hair tousled and his hoodie lazily thrown on.

"You’re lucky I like dogs," he muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you excitedly bounced in the passenger seat.

"You’re lucky you like *me*," you shot back with a grin, hugging your knees to your chest as you turned to face him.

He just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

When you arrived, the café was bustling with happy barks and wagging tails. The moment you stepped inside, a small golden retriever puppy trotted up to you, wagging its tail so hard it looked like it might take off.

"Oh my God, Cheol, look at this baby!" you squealed, crouching down to pet the dog. The puppy immediately rolled onto its back, demanding belly rubs, which you happily obliged.

Seungcheol stood nearby, watching you with a fond expression as you giggled and cooed over the dog. "You’re worse than the dogs," he teased, crossing his arms.

"Excuse me? They’re adorable!" you retorted, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

He crouched down beside you, scratching behind the puppy’s ears. "Yeah, they are," he admitted, his voice softer now.

You spent the next hour playing with various dogs, from energetic beagles to sleepy bulldogs, while Seungcheol alternated between joining in and watching you from a distance. At one point, a particularly bold corgi jumped into his lap, and you nearly cried laughing at the sight of big, tough Seungcheol awkwardly trying to balance the squirming dog.

"Cheol, you look so cute," you teased, snapping a picture on your phone.

He gave you a mock glare. "Delete that."

"Nope," you said, grinning mischievously.

When it was finally time to leave, you reluctantly said goodbye to the dogs, practically dragging your feet as Seungcheol led you back to the car.

"Happy now?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for you

"Very," you said, your face still lit up with joy.

As he got into the driver’s seat, he glanced over at you, shaking his head with a smile. "You’re such a kid."

"And yet, here you are," you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head again. "Yeah, here I am," he said softly, as if to himself.

Then, with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console, he added, "Let me know when you want to go again."

Your heart fluttered a little at his words, but you played it off, leaning your head back against the seat with a satisfied sigh. "You’re the best, Cheol."

He didn’t say anything, but the smile on his face as he drove you home spoke volumes.

Since he went with you to the dog cafe, it only felt right to go with him too if he wants to do something he likes. Unlucky for you, Seungcheol lives an active lifestyle.

Seungcheol chuckled as he watched you trudge behind him on the trail, your arms crossed and a dramatic pout plastered on your face.

The usually peaceful sound of nature was interrupted by the crunch of your footsteps and the occasional sigh you let out. He stopped to let you catch up, turning to look at your grumpy expression.

“You hate it that much?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You nodded like a child, your bottom lip jutting out even more. “I hate it,” you grumbled. “The bugs, the sweating, the uphill part—ugh, especially the uphill part.”

He laughed softly and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You could’ve just said so, baby. I wouldn’t have forced you.”

You shook your head, looking down at the ground. “But you wanted me to join you,” you mumbled. “And you always try out my hobbies, so I figured I should try yours too.”

Seungcheol’s grin softened into something warmer as he stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your shoulders. “Yah,” he said, his tone tender, “you didn’t have to do this just for me. I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” you argued halfheartedly, though your pout betrayed you. “I’m just… not enjoying it.”

That made him laugh again. He bent down slightly to meet your eyes. “Let’s turn back, hmm? We can go grab something to eat instead. How does that sound?”

Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Really? You’re not upset?”

“How could I be upset when you’re this cute?” he said, pinching your cheek lightly. “You tried for me, and that means a lot. But next time, I’ll make sure we do something we both enjoy.”

You smiled, your pout finally replaced with a more genuine expression. “Okay. But no more hiking.”

“No more hiking,” he promised, taking your hand as the two of you turned back down the trail. “But I’ll probably still tease you about this for the rest of your life.”

“Cheol!” You groaned, and he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening as he led you back toward the car, already thinking of how to spoil you for putting up with his hobby.

It was one of those rare, lazy afternoons when the group was hanging out at Jeonghan’s place, sprawled across his living room in varying states of relaxation.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, quietly sipping on your drink, while Seungcheol sat beside you, one arm casually slung across the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder.

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, watched the two of you with a knowing glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “So,” he started, drawing out the word like it was some grand announcement. “Are you two, like, officially a couple now?”

You froze mid-sip, eyes darting to Seungcheol. He didn’t even flinch, just let out a small exhale through his nose as if he’d been expecting the question.

“I mean...” he began, his voice trailing off as he scratched the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to you for a split second before settling back on Jeonghan.

“What kind of answer is that?” Jeonghan said, feigning exasperation. “You either are or you aren’t.”

Seungkwan, perched on the armrest of a nearby chair, chimed in, his grin wide. “Yeah, hyung, spill it. The suspense is killing us.”

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyperaware of Seungcheol’s hand now fully resting on your shoulder. “I—uh—” you stammered, unsure of what to say.

Seungcheol finally turned his head to look at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Whatever she wants us to be,” he said simply, his tone steady but laced with something unspoken.

The room went silent for a beat before Jeonghan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “That’s not an answer, Cheol!”

Seungkwan burst into laughter, clapping his hands. “I swear, you two are impossible.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but Seungcheol just chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder in reassurance.

“I think we’re doing just fine,” he said calmly, shooting Jeonghan a pointed look that clearly said, *drop it.*

Jeonghan raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk never left his face. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you two.”

As the conversation shifted to another topic, you glanced at Seungcheol, your lips twitching into a small, shy smile. He caught your gaze and leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got this... whatever *this* is.”

And somehow, that was all the reassurance you needed.

Later he drives you home, the hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the space between you and Seungcheol. The evening air was cool, and the faint smell of his cologne lingered in the car, you fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket you were wearing, the fabric too big for you but warm and comforting, much like the man sitting next to you.

“So…” you started, your voice timid, breaking the silence. “Are we like… what are we…”

You trailed off, unsure how to word the question that had been buzzing in your head since Jeonghan’s teasing earlier.

Seungcheol glanced at you briefly, his expression calm, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the armrest. “You don’t have to overthink their question,” he said gently. “No rush…”

“Yeah, but I want to know too,” you mumbled quietly, almost shyly, cutting him off before he could finish.

His grip on the wheel tightened just a fraction, and he let out a soft exhale. He pulled the car to a stop at a red light, finally turning his full attention to you.

You were twiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, your fingers nervously tugging at the fabric. That familiar pout was back, the one he could never seem to resist.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You peeked up at him, your eyes big and vulnerable, and it hit him again—how deep he was, how there was no getting out of this even if he wanted to.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

You nodded, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously.

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze steady on yours. “You’re…” He hesitated for a brief second before letting the words fall out. “You’re the person I think about first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. You’re the one I’d drop everything for, no questions asked. And you’re the only one I want sitting next to me, wearing my jacket, pouting at me like that.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by his sudden honesty.

“So, what are we?” he continued, his lips quirking into the smallest smile. “We’re whatever you want us to be. But if it’s up to me…” He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. “We’re already everything.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket. “Cheol…”

The light turned green, but he didn’t move the car immediately, his eyes still locked on you. “So?” he prompted, his tone lighter now. “What are we, Y/N?”

You gave him a shy smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I think we’re everything too,” you whispered.

He grinned then, that dimpled, boyish grin that made your chest feel tight. “Good,” he said simply, as if that was all he needed to hear.

And with that, he shifted gears and drove on, the air between you lighter but filled with an unspoken promise.

The quiet of the evening wrapped around you both as Seungcheol walked you to your apartment. The city was alive in the distance, but here, on the dimly lit stairs leading to your door, it was just the two of you.

You stopped at the top, turning to him as he stood a step below, his broad shoulders at perfect height for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers naturally found their way to the ends of his hair, twisting the soft strands between them.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes warm and fond, his dimples making an appearance as he gave you that small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet but teasing, like he already knew what you were going to say.

You smiled back, tilting your head slightly as if studying his face. “Nothing,” you said, your voice soft, your heart full. “I love you.”

For a moment, his smile faltered—not from doubt, but from the overwhelming warmth that bloomed across his chest.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned closer, the space between you shrinking as his lips brushed yours in the softest, most tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was steady and gentle, like the beginning of something infinite.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low but certain.

You couldn’t help but smile again, leaning into his touch, your forehead resting lightly against his. “Good,” you whispered, your fingers still playing with his hair.

His lips quirked into another grin, his dimples deepening. “Good,” he echoed softly, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Then he kisses you again.

And in that quiet moment, on the top of those stairs, it was as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was just you, Seungcheol, and the unspoken promise that this—whatever it was—was everything you’d both ever need.

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