#didn’t even attempt inking today

[yaybatman]

Ladies, gents, and other organisms of the world, Batjokes January day 6: Meme

Meme below

[chlorinecake]

Rabbit Hole | S.JY

▹ PAIRING: ex fling ! classmate ! jake x f. reader

▹ GENRE: smut, scandalous, college au

▹ SYNOPSIS: In an attempt to escape your past life by running off to a new university, you end up encountering a former lover—one that you never thought you’d see again, and one that you’d soon realize was bad news all along…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, foul language, humiliation kink, kinda dubcon because I need therapy, mentions of anal play, ft. other idols, mild bullying, switch!jake x switch!reader, lots of dialogue, degrading kink, impact play, light bondage, oral sex (m. r), unprotected sex (not for you), hair pulling

▹ WORD COUNT: 5.9k — DAY 7

Monday

Today, your current university was hosting its annual day of orientation for newcomers and recently transferred students.

You found yourself here after being promptly expelled from your previous university, a victim of being framed after someone planted hard drugs in your gym bag—an incident that still leaves you unsure regarding who set you up in the first place…

Fortunately, however, the transition to this new college was seemingly smooth, as many of your closest friends were also attending this institution, speaking in your honor and defense to the enrollment officials countless times.

And so, as a freshly admitted student at a prestigious college located more than 100 miles from your former campus, you were eager to leave your old life and watch it burn behind you.

Though, as your cousin would often quote from one of those shitty Max Payne games he played all the time, You can't run from your past. You will end up running in circles until you fall back down into the same hole you were trying to escape from, only the hole's grown deeper.

Orientation had just ended about forty minutes ago, and like several other students, you decided to treat yourself to a nice coffee at the campus café.

However, you never anticipated running into someone you met along that gruesome 100-mile journey—someone with whom you shared a fleeting romance that you never thought you’d see again.

A fling, you might add, that you met during one of the darkest times of your life.

It was a reckless and foolish decision on your part, honestly… after all, being drunk and horny simultaneously was a combination that rarely ended well—

“I offered to pay you for sex and you said you’d do it for free!” The man shouted back at you with his frustrated brown eyes flickering behind his glasses.

And by now, everyone in the cafeteria was staring at you two—

“No the fuck I didn’t, I don’t even recognize your lying little face!” You clapped back, standing up from your table now as you angrily started shoving all your belongings back into your backpack.

A couple of pencils awkwardly clattered to the floor, but you didn’t bother to retrieve them. They were from Amazon and made your notes from orientation look terrible anyways… cheap fucking ink—

“You were a kinky bitch, too… wanted me to call you mommy while I fingered your asshole in doggystyle and everything.”

“Oh, your pervy little imagination is really running wild today, isn’t it?”

“You keep saying calling me ‘little’ when you could rarely even take me without being prepped!”

“I’m calling you ‘little’ because I don’t even know your fucking name for crying out loud!”

“It’s Jake, and you know that already, so quit playing dumb… you also told me your name when we hooked up in August, but it was probably a fake one since you thought I’d be stupid enough to not remember your face…”

Zipping your last backpack compartment, you sighed at his words, “I’m sorry to hear you’ve mistaken me with someone else, Mr. Jake, but you have to stop with these false claims… I’m not the girl you slept with…”

“Seriously?” he scoffed, shaking his head at you in disappointment as his gaze roamed over your entire frame… “You’re even wearing the same bra…”

His voice trailed off, and you stared at him with wide eyes as if he had just plunged a rusty knife into your miserable gut.

He was right. He was honest… and there was no escaping him now that he had figured you all out.

“I’ll see you in class this week,“ he sighed sullenly before walking off, looking back at you once before fully exiting the shop.

You made a mental note to never let him humiliate you again… even if you couldn’t physically prevent it, you planned to avoid it at all costs…

Tuesday

“He said all of that in public?” Your friend Ningning asked.

“Yes, and in the middle of me ordering my coffee, too…”

“He’s so disrespectful,” Minji added.

“Despicable… he was even shouting it all at the top of his fucking lungs…”

“No one kicked his crazy ass out?”

“No… and I guess that’s a good thing because we both looked fucking insane in that moment…”

“You still haven’t told us why he said all of that to you though,” Juria went on.

“I figured it was probably posted all over the internet by now…”

And you retelling them would only make you relive the incident all over again…

“Well let’s hope not, because a video like that could really ruin your academic standing… even his…”

“I seriously can’t risk that happening again, you guys… there’d be enough proof for them to accuse me this time, too… probably speculating that I was higher than a cloud in that café…”

“Noooo, let’s not even think like that, okay baby?” Juria soothed you with a comforting hand to your back.

“She’s right, everything’s gonna be alright… this’ll just blow over like every other video online,” Minji added with a smile.

“Oh my God…” your friend Ningning exclaimed while looking at her phone.

“What? What is it?”

“You said his name is Jake, right? I just found his Instagram, and his bio has our uni’s initials in it.”

“Yea, I forgot to tell you that part, too… I’ll apparently be seeing him again in English class on Thursday… and every week after that…”

“You need to look into getting transferred to a course with a different professor ASAP,” Minji suggested.

“She can’t. Deadlines already closed for class registration,” Juria added with a pout that mirrored yours.

Though at this point, Ningning was the only one smiling.

“What now, Ning?”

“I mean… y’all are just gonna have to hear me out on this one, but why’s he highkey hella attractive?”

“Give me that,” Minji said while snatching the phone from her, only for her mouth to create an O shape at one of his pictures.

“Relax Ji, you can’t slurp his soul through the screen,” you joked, which only egged them in even further.

“You should give him a second chanceeee,” Minji continued.

“After you just agreed that he’s a disrespectful little cunt?” Juria asked sarcastically.

“Look, I’m just tired of us being the single and hot friend group. It’s not a good match.”

“Mhm… we need a beau to chauffeur us around… buy us designer bags and take us to dinner…” Ningning added.

“Yessss. I’m tired of hookup culture, I need somebody reliable… you should ask him if he has any other hot friends!”

“Ooo, or a brother!”

“You guys are insane,” you chuckle, sitting back in your chair now as you know you only have a few more minutes before class starts.

You didn’t wanna tell your friends what really happened because you didn’t want them to judge you. And although you had a good feeling they wouldn’t, you were still too ashamed to confess… to admit that you had lied to the poor guy, and needlessly to as he wasn’t even trying to get anything from you.

He probably only stopped by to say “Hi” to a familiar face, but you panicked when the truth started to come out…

Wednesday

You were so close to calling in sick and just skipping class for the whole day, simply to avoid bumping into Jake.

But you knew that was a cowardly idea that would only negatively affect your attendance in the long run.

So, after some careful consideration, you came up with your own solution; you planned to wear the most provocative outfit you could find, just to get revenge by teasing him all day.

You wanted him to experience the embarrassment he had put you through when he exposed you in the café… you craved the feeling of being in control of him again.

Though, you knew it wouldn’t be easy because part of you still had a soft spot for him…

He was so caring on all those nights, prioritizing your pleasure while still achieving his own… and then right after, he would ask you about your life, to which you foolishly responded with complete honesty every single time…

You told him about what happened at your old school, about how you were transferring to a new institution, and even details about your family life…

So, when you unexpectedly ran into him on campus that Tuesday, it wasn’t entirely shocking… he had even followed you on Instagram that same day, tagging you and other students under a post entailing his excitement about “finally starting his academic journey on the right track.”

Jake was clearly keeping tabs on you, and you couldn’t fathom what he could possibly want, but you knew it had to be something, and you weren’t gonna sulk over his nice guy act any longer.

Sure, you recall him mentioning his plans to pursue personal projects, but those ambitions have to include you in some way, otherwise, why the fuck would he even be here?

The past version of you would allow such uncertainties to intimidate her, but the new you was ready to stand firm. You had to; it was the only way to change the dynamics of your relationship with him.

Thursday

Straightaway upon reaching the classroom after running up and down the halls for what felt like a second lifetime, you finally made it in.

It didn’t take long for you to spot Jake either, as he was sitting in one of the closest seats he could probably grab.

Nerd, you thought to yourself, making your way towards him with your lace-up Mary Jane heels clicking behind you.

The desks were two-seaters in this class, so you’re lucky enough to have snatched a spot with Jake before some other whore did—

“So you’re not disgusted by my lying little face anymore?” He asked almost immediately after you got settled in the chair, slowly meeting your eyes as if to shame you. Intimidate you.

“Oh I definitely still am,” you corrected, crossing your legs beneath the desk, “I’m simply just sitting next to you…”

“Right… and are you still going by that fake name these days?… What was it again… Raychel with a Y?”

“My real name is ____, alright? Not like you didn’t know that already after stalking me down online—”

He let out a breath through his nose, “I didn’t stalk you, ____—”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupted, making him look down at his desk for a moment before snickering to himself at your tone.

Your adorably stern voice…

He always found it cute whenever you tried acting like the one who held dominance out of the two of you—

“What shall I call you then?” He asked while smirking, and you resented the way it made your insides flutter.

“Pretty,” you said plainly, and he quirks a brow at you.

“P-pretty?”

“What, do you disagree with that?”

“No,” he clarified, eyes shamelessly checking out your outfit now, “not at all…”

You were wearing a tight white button-up that exposed all your cleavage with a high-pleated skirt and heels.

And if anyone looking didn’t know any better, they’d probably think you were either trying to seduce the professor or get away with wearing borderline lingerie in public—

“There has to be a reason you approached me on orientation,” you began again, reaching in your backpack to pull out your notebooks and stationary, “why?”

“Well,” he started while clearing his throat slightly, “you can’t blame me for wanting to reconnect with an old lover, right?”

“Friend, Jake… we were just friends…”

“Okay, okay, whatever you wanna call it, but,” he whispered, leaning closer to you now as he spoke right below your ear, “wasn’t the sex just amazing… Pretty?”

You angrily swatted his hand from your thigh, to which he snickered at you.

Again.

“Listen, I’m an entirely different woman from the broken one you met two months ago… what we had was nothing,” you whisper-yelled, eyes filled with frustration.

“It certainly doesn’t seem like it was nothing,” Jake said, but his expression had lost its luster as his resting face became blank, and you’re just now realizing that your hand was gripped around his neck tie.

Click click.

The sound of the classrooms front door sounded, craning open with a loud creak to reveal the long-awaited English professor, the bustling classroom gracing her with their full attention.

“Good morning, my bright and wonderful students,” the heavy-set woman announced with glee as she walked up to the chalkboard, “anybody miss me?… No? Just my puppies at home? Okay, let’s get started then… You youngsters can call me Ms. Thompson, by the way!”

God—you sighed within yourself at her attempt to be likable despite her egregious sense of humor—Thursdays were going to be a lot longer than you anticipated…

“Uhm, Britney Spears, why don’t you come up to the board for me real quick,” the teacher said about thirty minutes into the session, and you were so lost in your head, you hadn’t even realized.

“It’s ____, ma’am,” you corrected her, not wanting to have a permanent nickname on the first day of college.

“Could’ve fooled me… anyhow, let’s make our topic of arguments a little more personal now… is there anyone in this room who you’d like to envision as your target offender?”

A smile creeped upon your face at this opportunity, “Yes, actually.”

Your eyes went straight to Jake, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know exactly who you were looking at, especially with the way his face looked now.

“Great! Come on up, Misterrrr…”

“Sim,” he said shyly, standing right beside you at the front of the class.

“Now, state your stance on the following argument, Ms. ____. Today’s topic issss,” her voice trailed off as she fished through her pile of notecards, “The Relevance of the Past in Shaping Identity!”

The classroom air grew thick with anticipation, as mostly everyone in the class had seen they way you two were acting earlier, and the café video that went viral earlier that week.

Though, given your outfit, you were already in the mood for attention today, so this was the perfect topic choice for you to spark a heated debate.

“I just think the past should be left in the past. We shouldn’t let it define who we are today.”

“Could you be more descriptive?” Ms. Thompson urged.

“Well… my view is that we shouldn’t associate any sort of relevance to our past selves and experiences, as we only limit what our future selves can achieve,” you clarified, trying your best to sound confident.

The professor nodded at your words, and you nearly giggled at the look on Jake’s face now.

“Any students in favor of ____’s stance?”

You noticed a little less than half of the classroom raised their hand, with one student in particular extending her hand above everyone elses.

“Yes, Ms. Castillo?”

“I agree with ____’s stance as I believe that humans should treat their lives as the butterfly by means of metamorphosis, where we reflect on our past, reject it, and eventually transform into something more beautiful.”

“This is especially true for victims or survivors, as they might view their past as a hinderance to their growth and finding new identity,” another boy added.

Crossing your arms, you watched as Jake cleared his throat like he always did, right before saying the most annoying shit imaginable.

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong, class. The past is crucial to our character development. You can’t just pretend you’re from a different walk of life or… I don’t know, change your hair a little bit and call it an identity swap…”

A murmur of agreement and disagreement rippled through the class up until a voice from the back spoke up.

It was Alex, a student known for their liberal insights. “Um… sorry to interrupt you Jake, that’s offensive to queer and transitioning people. Please use more inclusive language.”

A few students behind Alex snorted at their words, but Jake’s face flushed with realization, and he nodded respectfully.

“You’re 100% right, Alex. I didn’t mean to offend anyone. I just think that our experiences are relevant in shaping who we are, and that no amount of ‘make-believe’ can erase the impact of the past on both our present and future lives…”

Jake is handling this much better than you thought he would’ve, even though he was picking at his nail bed like a madman.

Ms. Thompson is quick to sense the growing tension though, and steps in before the debate lasts the entire class duration.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s remember that we’re here to learn and respect each other’s opinions. ____ and Jake, you both have valid points. The past can be both a burden and a guide, however, it’s ultimately up to each individual to decide how they let it influence their present and future.”

The class fell silent, reflecting on the professor’s words while scribbling copious notes down in their notebooks.

You flashed Jake a glance, one that he couldn’t read at first, but it still made him feel uneasy.

“So uhhh… that’s how you have an opinionated argument, everyone!” The teacher chirped awkwardly, “you may return to your seats, Mr. Sim and Ms. ____… thank you to everyone who participated in this portion… now, as we turn to page 13, we find that…”

Friday

At the end of class yesterday, Ms. Thompson assigned you and Jake to produce a group PowerPoint presentation by the following week, and you weren’t dreading it as much as you could have.

Your little tough and mean girl act seemed to have successfully scared Jake into some submission towards you… plus, you were having way too much fun teasing him everyday to turn down an opportunity to hang with him one on one.

You both were currently sitting in the campus’s private library to do research on your topic. It was relatively late in the day, so no one was there except you two.

By now, you had already punked Jake into bringing you coffee from the café that was literally a 20 minute walk away, and into agreeing that he’d produce most of the project on his own, but your fun with him hadn’t ended just yet.

Sad as it sounds, he just looked too cute while reading to himself in the grand brown chair across from you… you wouldn’t dare leave him there to study in peace, not while you were in the mood for chaos.

“Jakeyyy~” your voice sang with a cloyingly sweet melody, making his face flush with embarrassment behind his thick-framed glasses at the nickname.

Closing the book he was reading, Jake walked over to where you sat with your foot extended before him, a messy cluster of shoe strings dangling at your ankles.

“A little help here?” You continued, subtly squishing your breasts together with your arms while looking into his eyes.

“Sure,” is all he says as a small smile overtakes his feature. Kneeling down obediently before you, he took your ankle into his grasp, getting to work at re-tying the shoelace for you.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning forward to ruffle his hair as he taps your other foot, signaling for you to lift it so he can re-tie the lace there it as well.

“I didn’t just call you over here to tie my shoes though, Jake,” you whisper, drawing his gaze from your shoes and up to your eyes.

He holds back a sigh, and his chest expands because of it, “What else is it that you want then, ____—“

“Pretty,” you corrected him, moving your foot from his grasp only to let your leg fall, gently pressing the weight of your foot into his bulge, “we talked about this yesterday, Jake… you will never address me by my first name, understood?… Or is that too much to ask?”

Jake felt his whole stomach tense up at the feeling of your foot pressing into his groin, and he tried his best to get a solid answer out, knowing that prolonged silence would only bother you further.

“N-no,” he breathes out shakily, barely meeting your gaze now as the temperature in his face became hotter and hotter, with a mix of his own arousal, embarrassment, and anger, “I u-understand, Pretty…”

You let yourself smile at his compliance, releasing the pressure from your foot in his lap.

“So pathetic,” you announced, watching as he caught his breath on the ground, “I can get you to do anything for me, can’t I Jake?…”

He’s silent for a moment, making you feel impatient now that he was resisting all of a sudden.

“Jakey, I asked you a question—”

“And you really shouldn’t talk to me like that unless you want some sense fucked into you,” he retorted, making your eyes widen with genuine shock at his sudden boldness.

“Excuse me?” You asked with a scoff, but your voice gets lost in the sound of him getting up from the floor, standing over you, caging you beneath his frame in a way that intimidates you.

Jake had been swallowing his pride with you for long enough, and wasn’t gonna let another day pass without putting you in your place.

“I’ve been getting real sick of you treating me like this, y’know that ____?”

But before you can even think to answer, he’s reaching for the cup of coffee he fetched for you earlier and bringing it to your mouth, a ring of condensation glistening on the desk.

Trying to maintain your dominance, you let out a feigned laugh of amusement that Jake is quick to cut off with his stern words.

“Jake, what is this, huh?” You asked, giving him a fed up look even though your heartbeat was beating faster than the speed of light below his dark gaze.

“Drink it, ____….” He orders with a deep voice, eyes becoming so dark now that you can’t even bring yourself to refuse.

And you’re impossibly annoyed, too… by the way he’s very intentionally using your real name while simultaneously making you feel as feeble as a fairy.

Hesitantly bringing the cup to your mouth, it doesn’t take long before Jake smacks the coffee out of your hand, leaving the cold liquid to spill all over you.

“Jake, what the fuck?!” You shouted, shivering as the caramel-colored liquid trickled into all the intimate crevices of your body.

“How embarrassing,” he said, shaking his head, “making such a mess of yourself in front of me…”

Balling your fists, you look him dead in the eyes as you shout, “That was all you’re doing, you stupid fucking clutz- JAKE, s-stop that!” Your voice cracked at the feeling of his hand smacking you across the face now, surely leaving a cut in your lip as he soon went to squish your lips together into an odd shape, maintaining a painful grip.

“If only your brain was as big as your tits,” he clicked his teeth, wearing a somewhat neutral facial expression at first until a smirk started tugging at the corner of his lips…

“And now you’re crying?” He scoffs, almost as if both annoyed and amused by the moisture forming at the beds of your eyes.

During all this though, your mind was in a complete haze, not being able to wrap your head around how innocent he still looked while talking to you like this…

Hell, even his cheeks were still blushing, and you could tell he was getting harder behind his pants.

Jake caught onto your staring though, swallowing the urge to just fuck you right then and there.

“Take off your top,” he demanded, releasing your face from his grip and taking a few steps back, “I can’t believe you even want to be called ‘pretty’ while wearing such a filthy thing…”

“Who cares? You still got hard just from looking at me,” you jabbed back through a wobbly voice given your tears.

That’s when a feeling of chills ran up and down your skin, and it’s hard to keep up the tough girl act once Jake started unbuckling the belt he wore, keeping an intense eye contact with you the entire time.

“Just like old times,” he said, making your organs irk at how easily you found yourself falling down the same rabbit hole with him, but things were far too gone to turn back now. You complied with his words, sliding your top over your head and exposing yourself now, the swell of your breasts looking so delightful while cupped in the lace of your bra.

“You’re making this too easy for me,” he grinned, tossing his belt to the floor with a clink before closing the space between you both, still standing up as he slides his fingers against your scalp, gently gripping the hair.

But it feels so good that you almost purr at the contact, even though his behavior was a bit unsettling to you.

That’s when he landed another smack to your face, snickering at how loud you winced given the sudden shock of sensations.

“God, what the hell is wrong with you?” You yell at him, trying to escape his daunting frame but you have no chance against his strength, especially not while sitting down in a chair… “You’re a freak, Jake!”

You kept wrestling beneath him, provoking him to yank your arm harshly and pull you out of the chair and onto the floor, your bare knees hitting the floor with a thud.

“And you’re a little bitch,” he bit back, handling your body with ease as he situates you before him on your knees, taking your spot in the chair and spreading his legs.

And his belt isn’t too far from him now either, compelling him to reach down for it and use it to secure one of your wrists to the chair before finally shimmying his pants down.

So lost in your thoughts, you watch with a mix of fear, disgust, and anticipation at the erectness hiding behind his boxers, just as his taunting voice resounds again.

“C’mon, ____… it’s about time you make good use of that big mouth of yours…”

With teary eyes, you watch as his full length slips out, smacking against his abdomen as the burning in your restrained wrist feels worse now.

Everything feels worse now… you had never felt so humiliated in your entire life.

He tapped the tip of his cock against your lips, using a thumb at your jaw to pry your mouth open and push himself in.

And as much as you didn’t wanna admit it, you were enjoying this a lot more than expected…

You had always preferred men who were more on the submissive side, and Jake, being a nerdy introvert, was no exception to that craving.

However, you didn’t mind him getting a little rough with you either, and perhaps that’s why you felt ashamed for it… you felt vulnerable with the idea of admitting you liked being someone else’s play thing…

“Stroke me like you used to, ____… ‘atta girl,” he groaned, watching with pleasure as you let your free hand find his shaft, stroking the bass as he kept your mouth secured around the tip.

And as embarrassing as it sounds, you felt yourself getting wet just from sucking him off, the sounds of your own throat gurgling around his length being a turn on for the both of you.

“I bet you still haven’t even told your friends about what really happened between me and you, huh? Imagine if they knew your lips liked sucking my cock just as much as they liked lying…” he slithered, keeping your head angled back just enough for him to get a full look at your face while you took him in your mouth.

Jake soon catches onto the way you’re closing your thighs together as tears continue to well in your eyes, and he lets himself snicker at how needy and pathetic you looked before him...

“What is it, Pretty? Hm? Don’t want your friends to find out about how much of a raging cock-slut you are?”

You moaned softly as he gently pulled your head from around him, and a string of your own saliva and his precum keeps you two connected as he finally loosens the belt around your wrist.

“When’d you get so mean, Jake?” You asked weakly, voice a bit raspy now after taking him in your mouth.

He almost couldn’t look you straight in the eye after asking that, but he had to keep his act going… he had to put you in your place—

“I only get this way when I have to,” he practically whispered, and part of you couldn’t even get annoyed with him for it.

You felt the same just a few moments ago, and you’re just now realizing how much you and Jake really have in common—

“Get up,” he ordered, and you listened, standing on shaky legs as he pulled your panties down, letting them rest at your ankles as he stood up to meet you.

Without speaking, he simply pointed at the chair he was just sitting in, and you’re given the opportunity to choose the position.

You decide to get back on your knees, bend over the chair, and stick your bare ass out for him, and he snickered at the sight, kneeling down himself now.

He ran a hand over the curve of your hip before landing a hard smack there, his own cock twitching every time you winced.

After this, he wastes no time in gliding his cock between your folds, right before plunging his tip into your sloppy cunt and groaning at the feeling.

“Fuck~,” he cursed under his breath, trying to adjust himself inside you, “has it really been so long that even your pussy’s gotten tighter?”

“Well your tiny cock definitely didn’t get any bigger- nghh~…,” you whined through a bitten lip, trying to suppress your moaning as he started to bottom out, over and over again.

“And here I was thinking you’d actually shut up for once,” he sighed, but his voice was clearly being affected by the way you felt around him.

He had been missing this… all of it, and not even just the sex. Jake wanted more to come out of your relationship with him, but if this is how you wanted to play, so be it—he still got something good out of it.

You can’t remember what you were going to say, but your thoughts were harshly cut by the feeling of his hand pulling you up by your throat and holding you close to his body.

“Let’s see… do you still squirm while having your tits touched? Do you still squirt just from the sound of my voice?” He whispered, and your breath was so restricted that all you could do was pant pathetically.

His released his grip pretty quickly though, only for his hands to find your breasts and fondle with them as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

“J-Jake,” your voice bobbled, given the strong impact of his hips behind you, “d-don’t you fucking dare…”

“What do you mean, Pretty?” He asked, snickering now at the way your thighs trembled briefly, “you’re a flashy little bitch, but that doesn’t mean I can read your mind…”

You groaned at his words, feeling lightheaded now that his tip was brushing up against your cervix.

“Don’t… fuckkk~… don’t tell anyone about this…”

“Which part of this, hm?” He asked knowingly, “the part where I made you cry or the part where I finish inside you?”

“N-not any of it, just- please…” your words slurred, and your heart started to ache just as much as your core with a mix of worry and desperation.

Of course, you were enjoying every part of this, but you didn’t wanna face the embarrassment that’d come with it if anyone found out…

Just imagine it… how down bad must you be to (1) let a guy hit it after treating you like shit, and (2) in the middle of the campus library of all places?

He’s slamming into you so hard and fast that you lost track of your thoughts again, and the squelching sounds coming from the two of you only adds to the warmth growing in your faces—

“That’s really what you want? Huh?” Jake asked with a low growl to his voice, and all you can reply with is a string of whiny yes’s.

“Beg for it louder,” he demanded, “beg for me to keep fucking you like a good little slut…”

And you did, letting your hips bounce to a rythme with his thrusts as your high drew closer and closer to approaching.

“P-please, Jake! I’ll do anything! I’ll be a g-good cock-slut just for you if that’s what you want… I-I’ll even let you cum in me,” you stammered, only for your pleading lips to trail off as a symphony of moans ripped through your body, his harsh hand smacking your ass one more before holding you in place by a handful of your hair.

“Yea, Pretty? Want me to fill your juicy pussy up with my cum? Gonna let me fuck it back into you nice and slow? Yea?” He rambled breathlessly, panting in place of groaning so he could get his words out better.

Crying out another yes, Jake’s hip plummeted into you as hard as they could, your breasts rocking back and forth with the force until you finally felt it; your walls pulling him in as his first spurt made you shiver, and then his second spurt made you climax.

“Awww, fuck!” You whimpered, shaking beneath him as he rode out his high inside you.

It didn’t take long for him to stand up, though, and just in time to pull up his pants and readjust your panties before the library doors creaked open as a new soul joined the space.

It was a girl. You could tell me the gentle hums that bumped from her throat, echoing off of the shelves of books.

“____! Minji said I might find you studying here, so I came to check since you’ve been hiding from us… And don’t even think about scolding me for yelling in here!” The voice called out, and you immediately knew it was Juria from her accent.

She had just came back from class to return a few books that she borrowed earlier, and your heart never pumped as fast as it did when Jake landed a harsh smack to your clothed cunt while holding you in place, even though you tried squirming away.

Everything in you was fighting to avoid being caught like this, and even more so because Juria was literally 30ft away from you two.

When she finally made her way over, though, the poor girl nearly dropped the stack of books she was holding, delicate eyebrows furrowing behind her silky bangs as her lips asked the words, “What on earth happened over here?”

You were sitting beside a now standing Jake with your cold ass right against the tile floor as you lazily slumped over the reading chair, being too fucked out to bother moving.

Your hair was a mess atop your head and your outfit was totally disarrayed, foggy mascara smudged beneath your swollen eyes and your whole body reeking of bittersweet aromas.

Juria couldn’t put a finger on it, but she knew something had happened. Something off…

“She spilled coffee all over herself…” Jake eventually answered, an aura of emptiness being present in both his expression and tone… an eeriness that made both you and Juria tremble in the knees…

From that moment, he simply walked past you both, looking back only once before leaving… he glanced at you first before looking Juria straight in the eye, his expression only now softening as one last line escaped his venomous lips…

“Such a silly girl, isn’t she?…”

⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, which actually concludes DAY 7 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

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@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

@d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

[milkbobatyun]

dark sunrise

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: the sun rises again, but are you still who you are?

word count: 746

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear, stockholm syndrome

a/n: my attempt at writing about stockholm syndrome. if you or someone you know has experienced or is experiencing this, please do seek the right professional help. i will make it clear that IN NO WAY am i romanticising this, just thought it would fit in well with the scenario.

the golden sun’s warm rays smiled upon your face through the glass, refracting rays of rainbows across the room.

the breeze blew in from the open windows, its cool fingers twisting through your hair, dancing carelessly through the curtains of your bedposts.

every day, you wished you could be as free as the wind, blowing along without a care in the world. yet here you were, entrapped on the bed, the fracture in your ankle anchoring you down, reliant on sunday to meet your daily needs.

need water? simply a word and he would have it by your side, feeding it to you sip by sip. you didn’t need to lift a finger. wanted some comfort food? sunday was already ordering the maids to inform the chef. he knew you so well, he had everything arranged before you even opened your mouth.

sunday was trying to curry your favour and manipulate you. sunday was understanding of you, he knew you like the palm of his hand.

like a bird courting its mate, sunday brought you many little gifts and trinkets. a shiny necklace today, a multifaceted jewel the next.

it amused you to see his wings flap up with excitement and anticipation as he watched your every little reaction. somehow, in the shimmering light of sun that haloed his figure, he seemed more like an angel sent from above than a devil of your nightmares. perhaps sunday wasn’t truly evil, just misunderstood.

sunday’s comforting smile and hold warmed your heart, making it flutter in your chest. but for an instant, you caught something more twisted behind his eyes, something that made your blood run cold.

wait. something wasn’t right. that isn’t true, sunday was keeping you away from your loved ones. your heart was warmed by his thoughtful gifts, but underneath, something ominous gnawed at your consciousness. a faint whisper echoed in your mind: you need to escape. without a second thought, you squashed the vexing voice, casting it to the back of your mind

sunday was evil sunday was your god, your saviour.

in a state of boredom, when your injuries allowed you, you began to explore through your bedroom, shuffling through drawers and reading your old diaries.

you were scandalised to find a passage you had written in your earlier days, the words squiggling and shaking across the page like worms,.

someone please come and save me soon. i’m scared. my arm still hurts from yesterday when he twisted it because i didn’t follow his instructions, my cheek still swollen from when he slapped me for talking to a bystander. i’m struggling to conceal the bruises on my neck from—

the words on the page merge into one large ink blot that soaks into the page. fear and anxiety had rendered your writing useless, your clumsiness spilling over onto the page in the form of black ink.

you were horrified by what you had written early in your days of captivity misunderstood days, when you were still learning to be obedient. ripping out the page, shame flushed through you.

how dare you think such thoughts? wishing to be free? rebellious. sunday was doing these things for your own good. he cared for you.

bringing the page up to the candle, you watched the paper wither and smoulder away, hiding the evidence of your criminal thoughts.

the moon shone its milky light into the room, watching over you as you slept peacefully, dreaming of a warm spring where you sat under the shade of a tree, surrounded by blooming flowers, cradled in sunday’s warmth.

sunday was a wolf in a sheep’s clothing. sunday is misunderstood, that’s how he expresses his love for me.

the crimson sun rose, its scarlet light spilling across the manor that held you captive kept you safe from the dangerous world, like an ocean of blood. you stared mindlessly out the window, forehead leaning on the cool glass.

you knew it was all wrong, upside down and back to front. the gifts, the isolation, yet every time that thought came close to bursting from its cage, you quashed down the rebellious thoughts of leaving. sunday’s gentle touch kept you in the palm of his hand, a prisoner in a golden cage. how could you doubt, even for a minute, that sunday was causing you harm? sunday was dangerous, you needed to leave as soon as possible. sunday understands and cares for me more than anyone else. sunday was warm, like home.

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[jenosbliss]

Pleaseeee can I request either Jaemin or Johnny and a female reader hurt-comfort using 11,19,25 ? And for a dash of random razzle-dazzle, could it be 7th year Hogwarts au? :D

pairing. fem! ravenclaw reader x slytherin jaemin | genre. fluff, enemies to lovers | wc. 1.2k | warnings. mentions of bullying and reader injures her leg

a/n:: tbh jaemin is such a perfect slytherin! and also ppl need to ship ravenclaws and slyrherin more

The library was supposed to be your sanctuary. Quiet, orderly, and far from the petty rivalries that filled Hogwarts’ halls. But today, it had failed you.

You sat at a corner table, your face burning as you stared at the Potions essay that had been unceremoniously ruined by a flick of Ming Zheng’s wand. He was a smug Slytherin who had made it his personal mission to torment you this year just for his petty amusement.

Zheng’s voice echoed in your ears as you stared at the ink-stained parchment in front of you.

“I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart,” he’d sneered, his entourage laughing as the ink spread like wildfire across your essay. “Guess even your brains couldn’t make up for that handwriting.”

Zheng Yi wasn’t like Jaemin Na, your archnemesis. Jaemin teased you, pushed your buttons, and made your blood boil in ways you secretly enjoyed. But Zheng Yi? He was cruel. Sharp. His insults weren’t playful—they were designed to cut deep.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have a backbone. You’d always stood up to Jaemin, giving back as much as you got. But with Zheng Yi, it was different. Any attempt to fight back would only escalate things, and you couldn’t risk drawing more attention to yourself.

So you avoided him. Kept your head down, swallowed your pride, and let him think he’d won. You hated it—hated him—but you hated the thought of drawing more trouble even more.

The laughter still echoed in your ears as you fought back tears. Zheng had walked off with his entourage before you could muster a response, leaving you feeling small and humiliated. You’d tried to rewrite the essay, but your hands were trembling too much to hold the quill properly.

“Pathetic,” you muttered under your breath, blinking back frustrated tears.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for a pity party?” You froze, the low, teasing voice unmistakable.

Looking up, you saw Jaemin leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his emerald-and-silver tie loosened, his smirk firmly in place.

“Go away, Na,” you snapped, though your voice wavered. “I’m not in the mood.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but didn’t leave. Instead, he walked over and pulled out the chair across from you, sitting down like he belonged there.

“I saw what happened,” he said, gesturing to your ruined essay. “Zheng’s a git.”

“Since when do you care?” you asked sharply, glaring at him. “I thought you lot stuck together.”

“Maybe I don’t like seeing people like him thinking they’re untouchable. Or maybe…” His voice softened, surprising you. “I just don’t like seeing you like this.”

The sincerity in his tone disarmed you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“None of that matters now,” Jaemin said, pulling out his wand. Before you could protest, he muttered a quick spell, and the ink stains on your parchment disappeared as if they’d never been there.

“You’re helping me?” you asked, incredulous.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t read too much into it, Ravenclaw. I just hate sloppy work. That essay looked half-decent before Zheng wrecked it.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, smirking again. “Literally. Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.” He was nothing like Zheng.

A few days later, you found yourself facing Zheng in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The moment Professor McAllister paired you with him, your stomach sank. Dueling wasn’t your strong suit, and Zheng knew it. The smirk he gave you before raising his wand made your blood run cold.

At first, you managed to hold your own, dodging his hexes and firing back with as much precision as you could muster. But Zheng was relentless, his attacks growing more aggressive with each passing second.

When his final hex hit, it sent your wand flying out of your hand and you sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through your leg as the impact knocked the wind out of you. The class erupted in murmurs and cheers, but all you could hear was Zheng’s voice.

“Better luck next time, bookworm,” he sneered, stepping closer as if to gloat over your defeat. Before you could respond, another voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.

“That’s enough.” All eyes turned to Jaemin, who stepped forward with a glare that could have frozen the entire classroom.

Zheng smirked, crossing his arms. “What’s it to you, Na?”

“Why don’t you try competing with her in Transfiguration or Charms? Afraid your stupid ass won’t survive?” Jaemin said, his voice low and cold. He walked past Zheng without another glance, kneeling beside you.

“Can you walk?” he asked gently, his hand already reaching for yours. “I-I think so,” you stammered, though the sharp pain in your leg made you doubt it.

Jaemin frowned, slipping an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up. “We’re not taking any chances.”

“Jaemin, I—”

“Do you trust me?” he interrupted, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

Without another word, Jaemin helped you to the hospital wing, his arm steady around you as he shielded you from the prying eyes of your classmates.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey healed your leg quickly, though she insisted you stay seated for a while, but Jaemin stayed by your side long after the matron left to tend to other students.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, breaking the silence.

Jaemin leaned against the wall, his smirk returning. “Maybe I felt bad for you. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to miss class.”

“Sure,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“True,” he said, stepping closer. His smirk softened as his eyes met yours, something unspoken passing between you. “But Zheng’s an idiot and you don’t deserve to deal with him. You’re better than him. Smarter, stronger—and definitely more fun to mess with.”

A laugh escaped you despite the lingering embarrassment. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime,” Jaemin said, sitting down next to you. His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. The gesture was so gentle, so unlike him, that it left you momentarily speechless.

“You’re supposed to be my enemy,” you teased, though your voice was barely above a whisper. Jaemin smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Guess I’m breaking the rules.” Your cheeks burned, but this time, you didn’t mind.

“Next time Zheng tries anything,” Jaemin added, his tone serious, “tell me. I’ll handle it.” You gave a small laugh, squeezing his hand. “You already did.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek now. “Good. But just in case, stick close to me, Ravenclaw. I don’t mind breaking the rules for you.”

As he pulled away, you stared at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Thanks,” you murmured again, squeezing his hand. “Don’t get used to it,” he said with a smirk, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed his words.

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, your nemesis wasn't your nemesis anymore.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 followers event 🌷

navigation.

[penvisions]

underbelly {gone to the dogs} - a holiday special

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You and Joel have an understanding, a new thing between you both. Where once biting words were exchanged and annoyance flared, now there's this simmering thing that slowly takes hold. And who is Joel Miller if not a giving man at his core, determined to do right by the people he lets into his pack?

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: canon typical language, outbreak fic, age gap (about 15 years), sub! joel miller, dom / sub dynamics, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), oral (m and f receiving), sappy gift giving, holiday fic, some good ole pwp (well a little bc it's me lol)

Fic Notes: set at the beginning of their relationship, so between chapters five and six, i believe

A/N: hello, my loves! this is an apology of sorts for joel's behavior in the most recent chapter of the main series 😅felt like i needed to even the playing field a bit hehe. happy holidays and hope the days are good to y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The table in front of you is an organized mess. From the small baggies of pills and powder, to the piles of hand rolled cigarettes and joints separated in plastic bins, there are four more full of medicine and vitamins that aren’t offered at the infirmary. This is most of the current stock you have, save for a bin that contains five to ten baggies of each drug and pill you offer safely secured underneath the loose panel of wood that acts as one of the many patch ups to the walls of your apartment, this one in your bedroom right beside the bathroom door.

You’ve got a beaten up notebook open as you’re looping out names and exchanges owed. A tally of who you traded with the past two weeks and what they asked for in the next two. There’s a lot to organize and you take an afternoon each week to keep it all neatly transcribed. The small bottle of ink you have is beside the little stamp you’ve kept well hidden from anyone else. Not wanting it to fall into the wrong hands and end up being used on product that is certainly not yours or up to your standards.

Tess had just gotten up from the couch, her resting spot for a moment after work. An inner jacket pocket full of baggies she was about to go and deliver to the tenants of the building next door. Just as you’re about to get up and stretch your legs, the front door opens after a jingling of keys and the lock turning.

Joel.

He’s back late for the day, but you don’t mind getting the random hours to spend with him. You do a lap or two around the table before you set a pot of water up on the stove to boil in an attempt at a late lunch. There are a few cans of potatoes you found last week and you wanted to try and make something soft and hot- mashed potatoes.

Snow dusts the top of his shoulders as you watch him carefully lock the door behind himself, his thick fingers sliding the deadbolt and side latch locks. It’s all in his hair too, darkening the locks by contrast, though you can see the gray beginning to thread itself between the strands. Without a word, Joel is turning and something flies out of his grip and towards you across the room.

You catch it, though the hit of the hard thing is cushioned by a swath of thick paper around it and a twine bow tied to keep it closed.

“Joel, what the hell?” But he doesn’t respond, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair you had been in before disappearing into the bedroom. His boots clunk with the heavy steps he takes, the pain in his back and hips worse today without him needing to tell you. Sighing, you set the electric burner to the lowest setting and sit back at the table.

The little wrapped item gets set to the side, not forgotten but saved for later.

“Why didn’t you open it?”

“It’s just more of the same. Wanted to catalogue everything I already have before adding more to the roster,” You swoop the pencil in your hand over the expanse of the table, it was clear what was going on, wasn’t it? Why did he have to pick arguments with you even now, you’ve shared your apartment and bed with him for nearly a year. But sometimes you still feel like you didn’t know all of him and while you had resigned yourself to that very likely reality, you would take what he could offer you. What he was willing and wanting to offer you, because when you did- the tension in his shoulders eased just a bit, that scowl he wears so well lessens just a bit, his dark eyes lighten enough to let you glimpse at the person you assume he used to be.

“Darlin’, it ain’t none of that.” When you tilt your head to the side, much like an entranced dog, you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs, his next words the softest you’ve ever hear from him. In both sentiment and tone, aside from the night everything shifted. “It’s a gift for you. For the holiday.”

“Joel…” The confusion leaks out of you, replaced by a warmth in your chest. It’s been…god, it’s been years since anyone got you anything for the holidays. And here he is, all brooding and big and violent, giving you a piece of himself you hadn’t previously seen. His eyes are heavy on you as the paper crinkles, the twine unravels.

Atop the notebook, nestled in the ‘gift wrap’ is a little wooden figure. A dog. A cane corso dog.

A physical depiction of the very thing that lended you the nickname you’ve taken on in stride. Adapted in your endeavor to provide things for the people that the remnants of government forces refused to or asked for too much in exchange for. You were always giving, sacrificing, scrounging, never taking anything for yourself unless absolutely necessary. But this? This was something just for you, something made just for you but the looks of it. The scrapes and a blade obvious in the carving.

The gasp that leaves you does nothing to help the rapid flutter of your heart.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, sharp eyes watching the way water droplets cling to your skin as you emerge from your shower. The door was wide open, the space heater Joel had found among the rubble now fixed and set between the bedroom and bathroom threshold. A lame attempt at bringing some warmness to where you both curled up at night.

The cold was getting to him, his body aching. Not just sore, but aching in the way that begins to spur thoughts of old age in his mind. He’s not that old, he doesn’t think. But he is a hell of a lot older than you and he sees it in the way you perk up at the sight of snow softly falling from the sky. In the way you offer to run to the commissary or the food hall for everyone when there’s just no energy for standing at the stove or tinkering with something that’s been broken one too many times.

Your eyes are on him as you approach but he doesn’t feel like he used to when they pinned him down in a challenge. Now he feels rooted to the spot, waiting to see what you would do with anticipation rather than anger at being challenged. He no longer feels like you’re heeling him, like he’s nothing but dirt and grime underneath the tread of your boots, flesh that was torn apart and stuck between your teeth.

No. Now he feels like he’s been granted a fresh breath of air straight from your lungs.

And he’s reveling in it. He can’t help out but reach with itching fingers, trailing over the silk of your damp skin. The hitch in your breath he can fucking hear is driving him wild, the way you freely walk around like this when before it was all growls and threats if he even so much as managed a glimpse of what you look like underneath your threadbare clothing. Of the real you that hides behind the harsh persona and attitude you’ve taken on as a shell against the world.

He sees it now, as you let him trail his fingers up to the crooks of your elbows and tug you between his legs. His lips press to your skin, a groan escaping from his chest despite the pull in his shoulder muscles at the action.

The shift of the dynamic was sudden, brought on by seeing you in a new element. One where he was able to glimpse the person you used to be. And it had made his heart both stutter and ache. If you had crossed paths before the end of the world, you would’ve thrown him for a loop, stuck in his head until he carved out time to do something about it. But as the universe played it’s hand, he’s still crossed paths with you. That’s good enough for him, despite the biting words you used to mean as you berated him and bossed him around- shoved the barrel of a gun in his face and demanded what the hell he thought he was doing trying to edge in on the smuggling scene here in this zone like he owned the place.

Because he didn’t then, and he still doesn’t now. No, that’s you.

And he’s now the muscle in it, determined to do right by the situation. It feels good to step down, to follow the orders he gets from you or from you by Tess’s mouth. To just be a piece in the game he had been heading for far too long in far too many places and scenarios. It was nice to just turn off his brain and listen.

He feels much the same way now as he watches with a quick thrumming of his heart and blood rushing to his cock as you move to kneel behind him on the bed still in only your thin towel. Hands gently kneed into his aching muscles, and he leans into the touch. It was a good thing, he thinks, to have taken the time to carve that figure for you. A gift. A frivolous thing he wanted to give to you in the midst of chaos and too cold weather, the half-smile it brought to your face worth the effort of a new hobby he had dared to try.

When prodding fingers find a particular hard knot between his neck and shoulder blade, the moan he lets out pinches his face up in pain.

“Lemme get the menthol stuff, it’ll help.”

He watches as you strut across the room and disappear into the kitchen, towel now gone and all your skin on display. He feels the swell of his cock harden in his jeans and presses a palm to relieve some of the ache there too.

He’s always been the one to lead, to take charge but he’s thinking more and more that you like being that way. And his mind blanks as you stand in front of him with hardened nipples and a jar of homemade lotion that smells far too strong to handle at the moment.

When you upcap it, he reaches out to stop you. The puzzled look that has the hint of annoyance behind it has him rolling his lips, words stuck in his throat. As the silence drags on, you must see the way that his eyes are darkened by arousal and contemplation. But you don’t move until he manages to unstick the words from where they’re lodged.

“Just…not right now. Your hands are good enough, we can save it for another time, yeah?”

Without a word, you’re twisting the cap back on the jar and then pushing a small hand to the center of his chest.

“Then lay back.”

“What for?” He raises a thick brow at the command, ready to dispel whatever hesitation that lingers in his body.

“Gonna take care of you. You gonna let me?”

All he can muster up is a nod before he listens and does exactly what you ask of him. He lets go of everything, every thought and you take the reigns from his hands. The clink of his belt is loud, breaking the drone of the heater working in the corner and the sound of his zipper as him closing his eyes tightly.

“You gifted me something and now let me do the same. Just lemme take the lead, turn that brain off for a moment, yeah?”

Joel sighs out a ‘yes’ as he lifts his hip at the tap of your palms there, allowing you to peel the jeans and boxers from his legs. Goosebumps crop up at the cooler temperature, the heat of his hardened cock bobs against his stomach. He’s never been this way before. Not with you and barely with Tess, physical and sexual interactions always on his terms, on his conditions. Giving into you know feels right, he trusts you. Even as he feels the nip of sharp teeth on his neck before a warm tongue sooths it over.

“You can be such a good boy sometimes.” And the praise falling from your lips in a confident tone should irk him, but it does nothing but cause him to jerk below the waist and clench his teeth together as he feels it wash over him. It’s genuine, not teasing. He should know, because he’s normally the one praising you in such a manner. It’s a nice moment, he realizes, letting you take the lead. Allowing himself to fall into your commands in a less than serious way. In a more serious way. This is everything.

His chest heaves as you move down his body, the denim shirt he’s wearing unbuttoned as you go, lips trailing over coarse chest hair, the trail that moves down down down…

The feeling of him in your mouth is a heady sensation, it’s lighting up your body in hot sparkles that almost vibrate in intensity. The salty, musky taste of him on your tongue is one you would never tire of, even if he seldom lets you indulge him this way.

Down to his core, he’s a giver. He’s someone who gives himself to those around him and that’s obvious even in the bedroom. He always pleasures you, with his plush, delectable lips. His thick fingers and wide hands, the edge of his strong nose. The heft and feel of his cock something you crave just as much as he seems to be willing to sink into your pulsing heat at any chance he could get. It wasn’t just about fucking. Hell, it wasn’t even just about being fucked by him- it was something more. A man whose walls were built so high, bricks unsettling and gaps forming as you both share daily responsibilities and nightly routines. You were bonded.

But right now? He’s given himself wholly over to you.

His lips form a hard line as you nose along the leading head of his cock, flushed a pretty dusky pink, the exact same shade. But you can’t fight the frown that threatens to take over your own as you press your them to the slit to gather the pearlescent drop there, tongue peeking out to taste it.

“Lemme hear you, Joel.” That paired with the hungry way you swallow him down has him surging up with a strangled expletive followed by your name. After that, he hardly has any trouble letting loose deep groans and guttural growls as you take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks. His hips lift as you take him as deep as you can, leaking head nudging the back of your throat in the most delicious way.

It's dangerous, how powerful you feel right now. With Joel Miller loose limbed and compliant beneath you, surrendering to whatever you deem he deserves.

But nothing compares to the grip his hands form on your hips and the frantic look in his eyes as you straddle his thick thighs and sink down on him until your bottom is flush with them. Panting, you grind slowly, reveling in the feel of him deep and stretching you to make room for him to nestle. He’s hitting that sweet spot only he can reach and starts burst in the corners of your vision as you meet his gaze.

He’s never looked for open and recked, eyes blown own, breath puffing out in harsh pants, lips glistening from where you swear drool shines over them…

Tracing the bounce of your chest as you continue to grind against him, pleasure swathing you both in a tingling that crawls over every inch of skin. You clench around him, pulling a tortured sound from him as he fights off the feeling of bucking up into you. The shaking of his legs makes you feel pride spark low in your belly just as a flash of heat does.

“Hold on tight, I’m gonna take a ride.”

His head knocks back harshly onto the bed when you lift up and slam back down, eyes fluttering shut as all he does is hold on tight to your hips and lets you take care of him.

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[atomicami]

special snapshot

tattoo artist!abby anderson x fem!reader

- summary: you decide to tease abby before she meets an important client at her shop by sneaking in a special photograph of yourself. once she finds it during her shift at work, she decides to have a private photo session with you in the bedroom.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, vegas living, established relationship, a bad australian impression (sorry aussies ily), lots of picture taking, strap usage (r!receiving), possessive dom!abby, submissive headspace (r), abby’s custom strap (if ykyk), abby refers to her strap as her cock, use of nicknames towards reader (angel, princess, sweet girl etc), edging, overuse of the words ‘inked’ and ‘tatted’ bc i can’t think of anything else

- author’s note: the wait is finally over, you asked and i delivered. here is my first tattoo artist!abby one shot! this is the first idea that came to my mind at the time, but i might make more of these if y’all like this one.

if you’re new to my page and haven’t seen my original post about tattoo artist!abby, you can find that here. a lot of references i’ve made in this fic come directly from my hc post.

also, i have a masterlist now so y’all can easily find my fics and see what i’m currently working on :)

- middle pic creds to @abbystanaccount

“Come on, come on…hurry up already…”

You were pacing around the bathroom floor, impatiently waiting as the image below you still appeared white. Your girlfriend was running late for work right now because she’d spent the past 10 minutes endlessly searching throughout her apartment for something that was currently in your possession.

“Babe! I still can’t find it! Are you sure you haven’t seen my camera anywhere?”

Abby’s looked around every single area in her apartment so many times that she’s lost count. Every single area except the four walls that surround you right now. Her Polaroid camera was there, sitting on the bathroom counter in front of you, right next to a photograph that was still waiting to develop.

You grabbed the photograph and began to shake it again before setting it back down. After a couple more attempts, it finally began to develop. You smiled as you picked up the photograph, shaking it one last time for good measure before seeing the fully developed image you took of yourself. The plan you had come up with today was sinister, and you were all in for it.

“Babe! Have you checked for it in my room again?”

Abby’s footsteps were approaching the bedroom, causing you to quickly grab your pants from the floor and put them back on. You then grabbed the photograph and carefully placed it in your back pocket before taking the camera and leaving the en suite bathroom. By the time Abby walked in and saw you, you still had her camera in your hands.

“There it is!” She exclaimed before sighing in relief. “Where was it?”

“You left it by the window over there.” You reply, pointing over to her bedroom window with your free hand.

“Wow, you have a good eye, babe. I never would have guessed it’d be there.” She took the camera from your hands and wrapped her arms around you. This brief moment allowed you to take the developed piece of film out of your back pocket and quickly slide it into the back pocket of her dark wash jeans. Luckily, your girlfriend was too distracted about today to even notice.

“I’ve got this first-time client coming from Australia today to get a tattoo…” She began as she broke her hug from you. “He said he loves my work and wants—“ She cuts herself off as she checks the back of the camera. “Damn it, I’m out of film…” She let out a sigh once she saw the little 0 appearing in white next to the film cartridge compartment. There were no more shots left on her camera.

Well, there was one left…but you already used it.

Abby didn’t think anything of it though. She figured that she used up the last 10 shots between her past clients and her previous photo sessions with you in the bedroom. “I’ll have to pick up some film on my way to the shop, hopefully I’ll get there before my client comes in…” You watched as Abby opened up the back of the camera and took out the empty film cartridge before tossing it out and closing the compartment. She looked up and smiled at you, quickly rushing in to kiss you. “Thanks again for finding it, babe. I’ll let you know when I’m back from work, yeah?”

You nodded in response, kissing her back. “Of course babe, good luck with the client today!” Abby shot another smile back at you before leaving her room. Once you heard her keys jingle and the front door closing, you let out a breath of relief. If it weren’t for Abby being so distracted by this big client flying over halfway around the world just to get a tattoo done by her, she most definitely would have caught you a lot sooner. But luckily, she took the bait.

Now all you had to do was wait for her to find it.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅

Abby hurriedly got out of her car upon arriving at her shop. Once she entered inside, she saw her special client there talking to Nora at reception. She was super relieved to have made it in time.

“There she is!” Nora exclaimed once she saw her. “Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you.”

Abby raised an eyebrow at her as she approached the reception area. “All good things, I hope?” she said jokingly before looking over to her client. “I’m Abby, you must be Nathan?” she asked, extending a hand for him to shake it. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”

Nathan shook his head in response as he shook her hand. “It’s no worries mate, I just got in a few minutes ago.”

“Sounds good, I can get you started over here.” She brings Nathan over to her station to get himself situated. “I was working on your piece last night and came up with a few options for you to choose from.” Abby sets her things down at her desk while turning over to him and pulling her phone out of her pocket. Her back pocket. The same pocket that you slipped the photograph in less than an hour ago.

But what Abby didn’t notice was that the photograph had slipped out of her back pocket and onto the ground right behind her.

Abby didn’t notice it, but Nora sure did.

Nora was just passing by to give Abby some transfer paper when she saw the photograph lying face down on the floor. Clutching the transfer paper in her hands, she quickly copped a squat to pick it up. “Abby, you dropped one of your—oh” Nora cut her own words off once she accidentally caught a glimpse of the photo, causing Abby to turn around and face her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, um…I’m guessing this isn’t meant to go on your wall…” She replied as she handed her the photo face down, her voice quiet enough so that her client wouldn’t hear.

The blonde furrowed her brows in confusion when Nora gave her the photo. “Not on my wall? What are you—“ She flipped over the photo to take a look before quickly flipping it face down and hiding it in her palm. Now she understood what Nora meant by that.

It looks like Abby’s camera did have one shot left after all.

Abby was startled when she felt Nathan tap her shoulder, causing her to turn back around. “Everything alright?” he asked, his tone slightly curious.

“Y-Yeah, yeah everything’s fine! Just excuse me for one moment.” She briefly excused herself before speedwalking to the back of the shop and locking herself in the first room she could find. The photograph remained hidden in her palm.

Taking a deep breath, Abby lifted the photograph to take a better look. It was of you, front and center on the camera, wearing that same black skin-tight shirt she saw you in this morning. Despite the quality, Abby could tell you didn’t have a bra on because she could easily see your nipples poking through. Along with that, you were also wearing something else— a matching thong with rhinestones on the waistband. It must’ve been new because Abby had never seen you in that before.

It was taking Abby everything right now to not drop what she was doing and leave to go home and fuck you senseless. Seeing this photograph alone was already causing her boxers to dampen. But she needed to work on this client. She’s been planning on doing this piece on him for months, she can’t back out of this now.

Abby took a deep breath, giving the photograph one last look before putting it back into her pocket and turning around to exit the room. She walks back to her station and sees Nathan patiently waiting for her in the chair.

“Alright, let’s get started shall we?”

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ──⋅

You don’t hear back from Abby all day.

You figured that it could’ve been because of her special client, along with whoever else shows up to get a tattoo from her. But what really happened was that Abby decided to take the rest of the day off after finishing with her client and was waiting for you to come into her apartment.

You unlocked the door to Abby’s place with the spare key she gave you and entered inside before closing it shut behind you. To your surprise, you see Abby sitting there on the couch. She was manspreading, with one of her tatted arms perched over her knee so she could rest her chin.

“Hey babe, you’re home early…” You set your things down at the counter before walking over to her. “How did it go with the client?”

Abby lifted her head from her hands, looking up in your direction. “The client went great, actually…he loved the piece I tattooed for him.”

“That’s good, um…why are you home so early?”

You felt the need to ask her right off the bat. There was a feeling that you were getting. A sense of knowing that she found the photograph.

“No reason…just felt like taking the rest of the day off.”

You simply nod in response before slowly heading over to her bedroom. And as if you could feel her presence approaching, Abby soon followed behind you, closing the door once the two of you were inside. There was a brief moment of silence before Abby decided to speak up. “Did you think I wouldn’t find it?”

You turned around to face her. She stood there, her tatted sleeves crossed in front of her chest, with a smirk plastered on her freckled face.

She found the photograph. You know she did.

But you still decide to play dumb.

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Find what? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play silly with me now, princess….” You watched as Abby reached into her back pocket, that same back pocket you slipped the photograph in, and saw her pull it out. The delicate photograph of your body stood in between her inked fingers, fully on display in front of you.

“So much not having any shots left on my camera, right?” She said as she began to slowly step forward in your direction.

“Do you not like it…?” You ask her quietly, quickly looking down once she’s right in front of you. You start to feel like doing this to her wasn’t a good idea after all.

Abby’s expression softens for a brief moment. “Oh, baby…” she lifts your chin up with her free hand before leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek. “Of course I love it. You look so fucking sexy in this.” She looks back down at the photograph before directing her attention back at you.

“But do you remember the rule I told you about these?” She asks sternly, holding the piece of film in front of you.

You avert your gaze away from her and back to the ground. “Your eyes only…” you mutter out to her.

Abby lifts your chin back up once again to face her. “That’s right, angel. My eyes only.”

She points the photograph towards her and taps the corner gently on her chest, just a few inches above her chest piece in reference to herself.

“Mine. No one else’s.”

She slowly lets go of your chin and looks back down at the small piece of film. “You’re lucky it was only Nora who found it…if it were any of the guys, I would’ve gone insane.” She takes a closer look at the photograph, remembering the new thong you had on in the photo before looking back at you. “Are you wearing it?”

You nod.

Abby hooks an inked finger on the belt loop of your pants and gently tugs on it. “Off, princess. I want to see you just like how I saw you in this picture.”

You follow her command, bringing your hands down to the waistband of your pants and slowly unzipping them before pushing them down your thighs. Once they’re at your feet, you step out of them and take a step towards her. She then slips one of her hands under your shirt until they stop at the hem of your bra, gently tugging it down as well. “This too.”

Reaching underneath your shirt, you quickly unhook your bra, pulling the straps off of your shoulders before taking it out completely and dropping it on the ground. Abby took a step back to take in the sight of you. “My sweet girl…You look so good for me right now..” She muttered quietly. You feel her run her tatted hand through your body, starting at your hip and making its way up to one of your tits.

She looks back at the photograph for a brief moment, noticing you had one of your hands covering that same one. An idea flashed through her mind, you could tell because that same smirk was starting to appear on her face again. Her hand lets go from your breast and drops back to her side. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Abby leaves her room for a moment before quickly returning, now with her camera in her hands. “How about we recreate that pretty picture of you, hm? Would you like that?” You nod to her in response, biting your lip to hide your smile.

“Words, princess.”

You nod again, a little quicker this time. “Yes, I’d love to do that.”

Abby walks over to you and sets the photograph at the corner of her bed before turning her camera on. Once it was ready, she pointed the camera right in front of you with one hand and used her free hand to gently grab your breast, placing her thumb on top of your hardening nipple. She looked into the viewfinder, adjusting the angle and position before a quick flash went through your eyes.

The photo slowly whirs out of the camera. But Abby doesn’t even bother to check it out yet. Instead, she sets the camera to the side right next to the original photograph of you and begins to undo her jeans. “Kneel for me, princess.”

By instinct, you drop down to your knees in front of her. You already know what’s about to happen next.

As soon as the zipper of her jeans goes down you can already see it. The bulge underneath her black boxers, with a sliver of light tan with black marks peeking out of it. The thought of having that piece of silicone inside you was already making you desperate.

Once Abby’s jeans are pooling at her ankles she brings down her boxers in one swift motion, causing her strap-on to spring free right in front of you. You could already feel your mouth watering at the sight of it alone.

Abby notices your dumbfounded expression and smirks. “Look at you, princess…already drunk just by looking at my inked cock. Do you want it inside you, angel? Is that what you want?”

You look up at her and nod quickly while clenching your thighs at the same time. “Please, Abs…need it so bad….”

“I know you do, my sweet girl…” Her hand comes down to her side and gently holds your jaw, tilting your head up to look at her. “How about you get it wet for me, yeah? Get my cock ready so I can fuck that pretty pussy of yours.”

Without even thinking twice, you wrap your hands around the strap-on, your fingertips covering over some of the fake ink that was plastered on it. The tip of it was practically face-to-face with you. You position it towards your mouth before opening it wide and taking in as much as you can down your throat. The strap barely reaches halfway, so you begin to stroke whatever your mouth can’t reach with your hands while bobbing your head up and down simultaneously.

Abby keeps her gaze fixated on you, then briefly looks over at the camera that is sitting on her bed. She brings a hand down to the back of your head, slowly guiding it up and down her inked strap. “That’s it, princess, just like that…” She mutters out to you as she quickly reaches over to grab her camera off of the bed. In doing so the strap accidentally lunges itself forward down your throat, causing you to gag. You take your mouth off of Abby’s strap for a moment to take a deep breath before looking up at her, now with the camera in her hands again.

“Smile for me, princess.”

The flash of the camera passes through your vision again. Another photo whirs out of the slot.

You get back to sucking on her strap, even harder this time out of pure desperation to have it inside your walls already. Abby pulls the photo out and tosses the camera aside, beginning to quickly shake it to see the final product.

You hear her let out a quiet groan once she sees the fully developed piece of film. “God…you look so beautiful like this, angel…sucking my cock like the good girl you are.” She sets the second photograph aside and gently grabs your head again to pull your mouth off of her strap. Her strong tatted hands then grab at your waist, effortlessly picking you up and placing you down on the center of her bed.

Abby tugs down at the hem of your shirt as an indication for you to take it off. “Take this off, princess. I need to see all of you.” You oblige, taking off your shirt and tossing it to the ground. Abby does the same with her muscle tank and sports bra, exposing the rest of her patchworked body to you. At this point, the arousal in between your legs just keeps growing and growing, along with the urge to also be completely ridden of the little black piece of fabric that was pressed against your pussy right now. You bring a desperate hand down to the jeweled band of your thong to take it off, only for it to be lightly smacked by Abby’s tatted hand.

“Except this. This stays on.”

You nod in response, setting your hands aside, and letting your girlfriend do the rest of the work for you. You spread your legs open while Abby positions herself on top of you. The tip of her inked strap falls right on the damp fabric covering your crotch, causing a whimper to escape from your mouth. She then hooks a finger under the fabric and shifts it to the side, revealing your gushing wet pussy to her.

It takes a minimal amount of effort for Abby to insert the tip of her strap inside of you before pushing in the first couple of inches. “Fuck, princess…look how it's going in…you’re always taking my cock so well…”

You look down to see the piece of inked silicone connecting your bodies. With a desperate need to be filled, you bring a trembling hand down to your pussy and use two fingers to spread your folds open so Abby could keep pushing her strap inside you. Your jaw drops in pleasure as she slowly pushes in a few more inches, and the two of you still don’t take your eyes off of it, both watching as the tattoos on her fake cock slowly disappear as it makes its way into your cunt.

Abby lets out a groan once she bottoms out before tightening the harness on her strap, making sure it's pressed closely against her cunt. You feel your pussy start to clench around the strap as it sits there inside of you. Your body was practically begging for some movement to happen.

“Abby, please…I-I need you to move…” You whimper out to her, looking down at the base of her strap that was resting below your heat. Within seconds you began to feel it moving inside you. Abby starts to thrust in and out of you slowly, but that slow pace progressively turns into a rapid one.

Before you knew it, you were gripping onto the sheets to keep yourself from possibly getting slammed against the headboard, despite Abby’s firm hands holding your hips down. Your tits and thighs were bouncing and jiggling uncontrollably. Moans and whimpers were escaping from the two of you. But most importantly, Abby was hitting that special spot inside you with every single thrust.

She wasn’t stopping her pace at all…until that familiar phrase slipped from your mouth.

“Abby…I-I’m getting close…”

That’s when she stopped. That’s when she pulled her strap out of you. That’s when you snapped back to reality…for now.

You quickly shook your head as you watched her inked strap practically pull itself out of your pussy. “No….no no no no, Abby! Why would you do that?!” You whined out in protest. You let your hands go from the sheets and brought them to her hips, attempting to bring her closer to you so she could slip herself back inside of you.

Unfortunately, your attempt to do so was unsuccessful. Abby shook her head and pushed your hands off of her hips. “I’m sorry angel, but I’m not letting you cum like this. Not after that stunt you pulled today.”

You felt your body break at the possible feeling that you weren’t gonna be able to finish tonight, but you understood that you still needed to be taught a lesson.

“So…You’re not gonna let me cum at all tonight?” You mutter out to her quietly. The smirk that shows up on her face once again tells you something different.

“Oh, my sweet girl…I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to let you cum at all…” She brings a hand to your jaw and gently strokes it with her thumb. “You’re going to cum, but you’ll do it my way. All fours, princess.”

That statement alone had you flipping onto your stomach in an instant. At this point, you were willing to do anything to get a release, even if it meant having to do things her way.

Once you were on all fours, you soon felt Abby’s lips start kissing at your shoulder, slowly making its way down to your lower back. “You have no idea…how good you look for me like this…” she murmurs in between kisses. She plants some more kisses on your lower back, specifically on your tattoo that rests above the band of your thong. Your first tattoo. The one that Abby put onto your body the first day you met her. It gave Abby so much pride to see her work on you, especially in the position you’re in right now.

You feel the weight of the bed shift around for a bit and look over your shoulder to see Abby reaching for her camera again. She brings a hand to your waist to keep your back straight. “I want you to stay just like this, princess, okay?” You nod in response, resting your head on the pillow as you perk your ass farther up in front of her.

With her camera in one hand, Abby uses her other hand to shift your thong to the side again before positioning her inked strap at your tight entrance. Given how soaked you were at this point, it slides in with a lot less effort the second time around. You let out a whimper once she bottoms out, causing you to involuntarily jerk your hips at her.

As a result, Abby gives you a light smack on your ass. “Stay still, angel…I need this one to come out perfect.” She hovers the camera on top of you and looks through the viewfinder, making sure you’re perfectly centered.

You hear the flash behind you once again, followed by the whirring sound right after.

Abby sets the camera aside and places both hands at your hips, beginning to thrust into you at that same slow pace she was doing before. It didn’t take long for Abby to speed it up. Now she was back to hitting your g spot with every single thrust of her strap.

“Fuck…look at you, my sweet girl…taking my tatted cock so well..” She tells you in between her thrusts. “I bet you wish…someone could get a picture of this, hmm?”

The pleasure Abby’s giving you is so intense that you can barely decipher what she’s saying to you. She keeps talking you through it, but her voice slowly starts to fade through the blood pumping in your eardrums and the feeling of TV static filling your brain. You find yourself slowly slipping into a newfound headspace as Abby continues to pound herself into your pussy.

Regardless of how drunk you were feeling from it, you try your best to form a response to whatever she tells you.

“F-Feels s-so good, Abs…D-don’t stop…” you slur out to her.

Your entire body feels heavy right now, but you make an effort to extend one of your hands behind you and hold one of hers. You grasp onto Abby’s hand tightly as she keeps fucking you.

Abby notices and clutches your hand into hers as it remains on your hips. “Don’t worry princess, I got you, just stay with me, yeah? I promise you’ll get to—fuck—“ Abby cuts herself off, moaning at the feeling of the leather harness rubbing against the small barbell that rested above her clit. This motivates her to thrust even faster into you, now with a desire to chase her release.

As her pace gets faster, you start to get closer. Your cunt begins to repeatedly clench itself around her strap, indicating that you were going to cum. You try to tell her that you’re about to cum, but you were already getting so fucked into this headspace that you were struggling to get the words out of your mouth. As a result, you start to dig your fingers into the back of Abby’s hand to get her attention.

Abby felt your nails digging into her hand, which were already forming crescent indents on her inked skin. She looks over at you, seeing your fucked out expression with your mouth agape against the pillow and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Are you gonna cum, angel?” she asks, only receiving a slow nod followed by a few desperate gasps from you as a response. “I-fuck, I’m gonna cum too…Just let it out for me, princess, you deserve it.” While keeping one hand on your hips, she brings her free hand around your waist to rub quick circles on your throbbing clit as she continues to fuck you relentlessly.

And that’s what sends you over the edge. A string of whines and mewls escape from your mouth once you get there. You dig your nails deeper into Abby’s hand while your other hand fists the corner of the pillow. Your thighs begin to tremble, and your cunt pulses a few more times around the strap before fully coating it with your slick. Abby finishes right after you with a loud groan, completely cumming inside the harness. She keeps herself inside you for a little bit before slowly pulling out, letting out a quiet grunt at the sight of the string of slick connecting between your pussy and the tip of her strap.

Your body was completely limp at this point, and Abby could tell. She guides your lower half back down onto the bed so you’re lying down on your side. As you bring yourself back to reality, you feel the warmth of her hand stroking your jaw, leading you to slowly blink your eyes open. The first thing you see is her eyes scanning yours, making sure you were okay after your intense release.

“There she is…” she says quietly, smiling right after. “Are you okay, angel? I didn’t go too hard on you did I?”

You slowly shook your head in response, smiling back at her as you try to catch your breath. “Of course not, Abs…you felt amazing…” you pant out to her.

Abby lets out a sigh of relief before leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips before kissing your forehead. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up now, okay?”

You watch as Abby gets off of the bed and takes off her strap before slipping her boxers back on and heading into her bathroom. You hear the sound of the water running in the background, knowing that she was drawing a bath for you right now.

As the water continues to run, Abby jogs out of the bathroom and heads over to the bed to pick up all of the developed photos that were spread out on the sheets. She looks through each one of them before pulling out her wallet and storing them inside. You can’t help but let out a giggle over it. Her wallet was so full of your photos that you could easily see the thickness of it from the side.

Abby looks over to you as she closes her wallet. “What’s so funny?”

“Don’t you think you have too many pictures of me in there?”

She shakes her head in disagreement. “Nonsense. there’s no such thing as too many pictures of you.” You watch her walk over to your side and feel her lips planting another kiss on your cheek.

“Besides…they’re for my eyes only, remember?”

requested tags 🏷️: @tokkismari @onlinelesbo @elliens4 @thepurplebutterflyysblog @kindtim3

2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

[luveline]

hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3

kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k

“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers. 

Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking. 

“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.” 

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.” 

Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks. 

Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.

“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says. 

“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.” 

“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does. 

She grins. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You all done?” 

“Yep.” 

“Not hungry anymore?” 

“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.” 

“Thanks, beautiful.” 

She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?” 

Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night. 

Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch. 

She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests. 

“I’m tired.” 

“It’s not bed time.” 

She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat. 

“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?” 

“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it. 

“That sound fun or what?” 

She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder. 

He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.” 

You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.” 

“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask. 

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns. 

You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided. 

Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids. 

I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday. 

“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now. 

“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily. 

“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.” 

Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath. 

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.” 

“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter. 

“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!” 

“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says. 

He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?” 

“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.” 

He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”

“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.

“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says. 

“I didn’t say one!” 

“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.” 

“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”

You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.” 

“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks. 

Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?” 

Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips. 

Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying. 

Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says. 

If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?” 

You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest. 

You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out. 

“Oh, no,” Avery says. 

“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.” 

They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else. 

“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks. 

Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.” 

“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.” 

You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say. 

“Gonna get Beth changed.” 

“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.” 

It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed. 

“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?” 

The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask. 

Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?” 

“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.” 

“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says. 

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?” 

“I want to share,” Beth says immediately. 

Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.” 

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.” 

This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!” 

“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.” 

She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.” 

“Sorry,” she laughs. 

“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?” 

Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player. 

“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.

He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?” 

“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs. 

“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in. 

Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time. 

Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time. 

You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.” 

He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous. 

“You want a glass of water?” Steve says. 

You catch his hand. “I got you one.” 

Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth. 

“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter. 

“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?” 

“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?” 

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin. 

He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff. 

“Feels too good to be true.” 

“My turn tonight,” he says. 

“No, baby, it’s my turn.” 

“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”

“I want them too,” you say. 

“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Less when they wake me up,” you joke. 

Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.” 

“‘Cept here,” you whisper back. 

“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.  

[shizunitis]

in an au where shen yuan was transmigrated into shen qingqiu before binghe arrived at cang qiong:

normal ink can be erased with a very simple spell that even children can master. qing jing peak teaches this spell so that the younger disciples can learn precision and the basics of interacting with objects by manipulating qi, but they are not allowed to use it during examinations, or when doing their personal assignments. allowances are made for those who can’t write very well or at all, to encourage discernment and self-correction.

luo binghe uses this technique often. very often. he needs to show his best at all times, and so he erases almost every other character. the issue? if used too much on the same spot, it sometimes affects the page. excessively used, it can even tear through it.

after moving him into the bamboo house, shen qingqiu is supervising luo binghe as he practices calligraphy. though the kid’s attempts are shaky at best, it’s good progress for a complete beginner. binghe erases some of his writing and tries again, and shen qingqiu, extremely gently, tells him to try without doing that today. luo binghe nods, and gets back to work.

shen qingqiu turns away for two seconds to deal with a quick matter. when he comes back, luo binghe’s paper is almost entirely shredded, he’s sitting with a straight back and real self-hatred in his eyes, and trying to hold back his sobs, hiccupping every few seconds. he looks at shen qingqiu like this:

and shen qingqiu is so out of his depth he can’t even speak. not that he would, but he didn’t even scream at the kid! that’s usually why children start sobbing!! what the fuck happened!!!

i just feel like, if binghe doesn’t have to go through the horrors of pidw binghe’s early disciplehood, he should suffer the way that many of us had.

[seattlesellie]

not about love: part three ♡

ೃ⁀➷ read part one | part two | part four

pairing: college loser!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: you go to a frat party, ellie is a dumbass.

warnings: heavy sexual themes, alcohol, weed, JEALOUSY (both ellie and reader but reader goes through it)

You stirred from your nap, your eyelids fluttering open as you gradually became aware of your surroundings. It was hot, too hot, and the AC wasn’t working. Neither was the fan. So much for one of the “Best colleges in the world!” as they liked to boast on their little website page. A faint buzz emanated from your phone.

You groaned. Dina's persistence was relentless, and she refused to accept no for an answer. The thought of going to a Kappa party was one thing. Sweaty bodies, lame college boys who thought they were hot shit because their daddy was the CEO of toaster strudel or whatever, cheap liquor that burned inside the pits of your stomach even three days after the party was over…

That was the least of your problems.

The problem was, you guessed it — Ellie.

Wherever Jesse and Dina went, Ellie was always there, tagging along like a lost little puppy. They never turned her away; they actually seemed to enjoy her company. And who could blame them? Ellie had a wicked sense of humor, and some might even say she had a sweet side. Plus, she always had a fat joint tucked away in her pocket, ready to be shared. The thing was, Dina and Jesse were a fucking couple, and Ellie somehow managed to squeeze herself into their most intimate moments too.

You asked Dina about it once, and she just shrugged — “She’s a little lonely sometimes, so why not?”

Dina was right. Ellie was… a little lonely. When she wasn’t with you, shed lock herself inside her dorm room (which she thankfully shared with no one), solemnly strung on her guitar, broody and quiet. She’d blast metal when she was upset, and draw till her arm hurt. It was “by choice” she always told, shrugging off your attempts to convince her to socialize, enjoy the college life, have some fun. She wanted to tell you that you were enough. That she didn’t need those random hookups, that parties were the last thing that interested her, when you were around. Her cheeks would blush a soft, dusty pink whenever she entertained the thought of confessing her feelings to you. The uncertainty of your response weighed on her mind like a pesky little irritant. What would you think then?

None of it mattered, anyways, because you and Ellie hadn’t talked in a week. That was the longest time without contact since 10th grade. Granted, you did fight that Christmas night, just a year ago — but you never went completely cold. Not like this. Ever since that day in her room, something shifted. You saw her in the cafeteria, Sitting alone with white string earphones in her ears, she bopped her head to the rhythmic tunes of Bob Dylan. Pretending not to see you, she shifted her gaze towards the window, fixating on the birds' nest nestled within the tree nearby.

She thought you knew.

She thought her secret was out.

“You’re not” Was the last thing that left her mouth that day.

Ellie was delusional, Because you didn’t fucking know.

“I cant see her EVER again” she scribbled in her journal with dark ink, pressing down on the pen until her thumb turned white.

When NASA released the stunning images of millions of galaxies, your thoughts inevitably gravitated towards her. She was a constant presence in your mind, after all. You sent her a message, a sweet one. “thought of u” it said, with a picture attached.

It was radio silence. No response, no call, nothing. Cold.

This is why you didn’t want to go to the party today. And maybe, this is why you did go — regardless. Stand up to her, ask her what was wrong. Did you do something? did you hurt her feelings? did you finally fucking break her?

It was 9PM, and there you stood, butt naked, facing your closet.

“fuck you Dina” you whispered sotto voce, as the weight of blame rested squarely on her shoulders. She’s the reason you’re here, your mind completely blank, staring at a pile of unfolded clothes, Your makeup sprawled open on the table, the powders and the colors creating an accidental artwork. You had a half empty bottle of boxed wine in your hand. Definitely Dina’s fault.

“Nothing!" you exclaimed, flinging a delicate light pink tank-top onto the floor in frustration. “To fucking wear!” you groaned, tossing a black pair of jeans of across the room. It was your turn to throw a tantrum now.

You dialed Dina on the phone, more than ready to complain to her over your lack of clothes, her stupid kappa party, maybe even over the pumping headache you had three days ago, maybe that was her fault too.

She picked up.

“Heyyyy pretty” Her words slurred, and the scent of vodka almost wafted through the screen. Oh god, she was drunk already. Just great.

“You pregamed without me?!” You yelled, perplexed.

“Wh— I called you like five times! So did Jesse, you didnt pick up the phoneeee”

“Pick up the phoneeeee” you heard Jesse mock Dina, his laughter echoing in the background.

“Fine, whatever. I have nothing to wear, I’m gonna look like shit, my ass hurts because I slipped AND I think this white wine’s poisoned. Plus I need something that makes my tits look good and all i have—“

You grabbed a crumpled white corset top from the floor, its fabric wrinkled from being discarded.

“Is a stupid corset! and you still didn’t give me back my dress!” You whined, pacing around the room, still naked, still chugging on some “poisonous” white wine.

“You’re on speaker, babe”

“I dont care. Hey Jesse, you sound wasted too” You tried on the white corset, surprised at how good it fit around your body. Huh. Maybe you didn’t need to iron clothes like, ever.

“Heyyyy” his voice came through muffled, mixed with fits of laughter as Dina had apparently spilled vodka on herself.

“D, I’m sending you a picture of my fit, I have no pants on so don’t save it, weirdo”

She coughed.

“On speaker” she repeated.

“Jesse doesn’t care” You rolled your eyes, as you struggled to zip the corset top up.

“Ellie’s here”

Oh.

“Oh” you froze. Of course she’s here.

“Say” Dina's voice descended to a hushed tone, as if her words were no longer intended for your ears.

“Say hi” it was quiet, but you could hear.

"I don't—" Ellie's voice emerged, subdued and suppressed, barely audible.

Dina shoved the phone to Ellie’s hand.

“Hey”

You gazed at your complexion, transfixed as if you were trapped in a moment suspended in time.

“Hi” you quietly said.

“Okay— whatever you two have going on… figure it out, be there in twenty. And send me that pic!”

Dina hung up.

Be there in twenty. Okay, you got this. You looked at yourself in the mirror, half naked, your hair a mess, your heart beating out of your chest. Maybe you don’t got this.

Frantically, you swiftly gathered yourself. You hastily slid into a sleek black skirt, styled your hair, generously applied a thick layer of lip gloss, and quickly slipped into the tallest heels you could lay your hands on.

“Skirts too long” you whispered to yourself.

It wasn’t too long, the plush of your ass was almost peaking out of it.

It was borderline comedic, how you fast you shifted when you heard her voice. How quickly you went from not giving a shit, whining quietly about the sweaty bodies you’re going to bump into, and the thick smell of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol you were going to have to breathe through, to caring so heavily, and so deeply, about something completely different. You put the shiniest pair of hoop earrings you could find in your drawer, spritzed a thick layer of sweet, vanilla and almonds perfume, and took another glance in the mirror.

This is how she was going to see you. She’ll smell your perfume, you were sure of it. Perhaps she’d even glance at your legs if she got close. you see, Ellie had a habit of… looking up and down. She thought she was sleek, she thought she knew what she was doing. She thought she was hiding it, and hiding it well, but she never did. You always noticed how her eyes would flicker up and down, how a rosy pink would grace her cheeks.

This isn’t about Ellie, though — right?

There was a loud thud that echoed across the room, originating from the big window above your bed.

Dina and Jesse were here. Oh, and her.

“fuckfuckfuck” you frantically whispered to yourself as you went to grab your purse. You glanced at your reflection again. You looked good, and you knew it. Hell — everyone would know it, but not everyone mattered.

You took a deep breath, and with that, you were out of your room.

Click-clack—the sound of your high heels grazing the ground filled the air.

“oh sh—“

you almost slipped.

Right as you exited the building, your eyes landed on them.

Three, slightly inhibited, babbling adults standing besides each other.

You moved closer, the sparkling keychain attached to your purse swaying and jingling with every contact against your figure, a touch of girlish charm to your stride.

“Holy shitttt” Dina gasped, her eyes widening in awe.

You didn’t even glace at Ellie. Non existent.

“Jesse” she nudged his arm. “I’m leaving you for a girl”

She wrapped you in a tight embrace, her sweet but subtly spicy perfume filling your nostrils. The moment your eyes met hers, any lingering anger you had towards her completely melted away. The Dina effect.

“You look so hot” she teased, flashing you a sly smile.

“Hey idiot” Jesse chimed in, embracing you tightly, looking dapper with a tight, black t-shirt adorning his body.

“Look at those muscles” you said, punching his arm lightly.

And there she was.

a black leather jacket, a white button-up shirt with the top buttons left undone, a tight pair of jeans and her trusty old Chuck’s.

She dressed up. She never dresses up.

Her eyes were glued to the ground. What was she hyper-focusing on now? The ant crawling on the ground? a dry, crumpled leaf? Perhaps on your high heels, and the thought of you keeping them on while your legs are resting on her shoulders?

Her throat closed up at the thought.

“Hey” she said, her voice low.

You could tell she had been drinking, based on the dazed look she had on her face. Maybe she smoked some too.

“Hi” you said, and flashed her a small, awkward smile.

“Start walking idiots” Dina exclaimed, and grabbed your hand in her palm.

The walk to the party was not quiet. It was anything but. Filled with aimless giggles, and Jesse almost walking in to a pole. Ellie dragged by quietly, chuckling to herself at a funny anecdote someone had made. She never was quite like this. Of course, she was broody, some would say somber, but she was not a “quiet” person. Not when she was with her friends. Tonight was different. Tonight, Ellie had something else in mind. The way you swayed side to side, giggling loudly and boasting into a Britney melody made her heart swell in her chest. She couldn’t stop replaying the events of that day in her mind. The way she got close, the way you whispered that you weren’t like Dina and Jesse, and the way she agreed. The way she had never come so hard in her life, with her hand between her thighs and her phone in her hand.

Tonight was going to be fucking difficult.

You finally arrived to the party.

As anticipated, the scene unfolded before you— a pulsating mass of sweaty bodies, shirtless college guys, and scantily clad girls grinding against each other, moving rhythmically to the beats of a 2013 Jason Derulo song.

“Shots?” Dina questioned, her eyes scanning the crowded house.

“Shots” you responded, a slight panicked look on your face.

“Sure, yeah” Ellie quietly said, her hands stuffed inside her pockets.

Dina was out of your sight at the speed of light.

You were left alone with her.

It was suddenly harder to breathe, and it wasn’t the lack of oxygen from the dozens of people breathing it in.

“So…” you said, trying to be as loud as you could — so she could hear you, amidst the loud music and the occasional screams.

She was standing in front of you. God, was she beautiful. She didn’t even try, was the frustrating part. The way her hair rested half down, the rest of it tied in a bun, the way a small strand of hair framed her face — she was flawless. Her freckled cheeks were glowing, a red hue caressing them, and as her hand came to scratch her face, presumably a nervous reaction, it flexed slightly. You always stared. Just like she stared at your tits — you always stared at her hands. It was a silent agreement, tit for tat.

“So many people” you chuckled.

“Listen, I-“

“Tequila for you” Dina’s voice startled you from behind, making you flinch.

“And… a shot of whiskey for the lady” She handed Ellie the short glass.

“3, 2–“

It was warm inside your throat, and it slid so uncomfortably, you had have a reaction. Your face twitched, tongue peeking out of your mouth.

Ellie couldn't help but crack a smile, stifling the urge to burst into laughter.

Ellie never made a face when she drank. Swallow it in, Joel taught her. Hold your breath — and let it slide.

“EVERYBODY!”

the loud voice of a college frat-boy echoed through the room. Did he have a fucking microphone?

“SPIN THE BOTTLE IN KEVIN’S ROOM TO THE LEFT!”

You rolled your eyes.

“What are we, thirteen?” you sighed.

“No…” Dina responded, her gaze shifting between you and Ellie.

“But you need to get some” she nudged your arm.

“And so do you” She whispered to Ellie.

Ellie could feel her heart beat fasten up. Funnily enough, it wasn’t because she was embarrassed to play. It wasn’t because she cared about it, or wanted to “get some” — It was the thought of you. The thought of you, getting some. How could Dina even dare to suggest such a thing? Of course, Dina didn’t know about Ellie’s… situation. Still, how could she say that? How could she endure the thought of you with somebody else? What if you end up meeting somebody? What if you, god forbid, end up kissing somebody? Ellie felt it in her stomach. It was that same rage she felt when you had your first girlfriend, Emily, in 10th grade. When she caught you kissing behind the bleachers. She remembers how her mind went blank for a second, fully white. A moment after, she saw red. She punched a fucking wall, and promised herself that if she ever gets the chance — the actual chance, she’d beat Emily up so bad it would leave her bleeding. Of course, she never got the fucking chance. Emily was nice to Ellie, hell, Emily loved Ellie, and Ellie never had the guts to do it, so she punched her pillow instead, every goddamn night.

“Let’s go, c’mon” Dina exclaimed, taking hold of both your hands and skillfully maneuvering through the bustling crowd.

—

At first, the bottle landed on a sweet cheerleader named Amy, and a dumb jock named Steve.

“I dare you to make out shirtless in front of everybody” Kyle, a blond frat guy said, gaining himself a couple of “Oooo” sounds from the people gathered around the room.

“It’s not truth or dare Kyle—“ A loud voice popped off from the background.

“My house, my rules” He shrugged as he responded.

“I should be paid to watch this” You said in a whiny, slightly bitchy tone, Ellie and Dina chuckled in response.

They went at it, shirtless and sloppy. Tongues clashing in an unsynchronized dance, slurping each other up like animals.

“Okay, okay — next round” Kyle exclaimed, burping into the mic.

“Ew” you gagged.

The bottle spun.

You were standing besides Ellie, her shoe nudging yours. At one point, she accidentally touched your thigh, followed by a breathy “Shit — sorry”.

There was absolutely no way it would spin pointing at her, and then point at you. But she fucking hoped. Maybe, if it was a dare, shed have the balls to do it. Maybe she’d be too embarrassed to say no in front of all these people, who might think she was even a bigger weirdo for turning a game down, so she’d have to kiss you. Maybe her lips could touch yours like she desperately desired. Maybe shed manage to put her hands on your waist, and hold you still. Maybe you’ll feel it, finally, and give into her.

Slip a tongue in, who knows?

It landed on her.

“Fuck” she hissed under her breath.

“Oh” Kyle said into the mic.

“Who are you?”

“Ellie” she said quietly, internally punching herself in the gut.

“Cant hear”

She cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up.

“Ellie” she said, louder.

You felt your throat close up. This can’t possibly be happening. Dina was ecstatic.

“Okay… Ellie, never seen you around here… Spin”

“I don’t—“ she quietly said, looking at you from the corner of her eye.

Something was wrong. Your body tensed up.

“Cmon, El” Dina nudged her arm.

She spun the bottle, the sound of the glass grazing the floor filling up the room.

It landed on a ginger named Alison. You recognized her from one of your classes. Alison was a nice girl, popular, but kept to herself. She was pretty, a sweet pair of big brown eyes, and a cleavage that left no room for the imagination. Alison smirked at Ellie, tilting her head.

You weren’t exactly a firm believer, but you prayed to god louder than anyone has ever did.

Please don’t kiss. Please don’t kiss.

“Ellie… Alison… Who else thinks those names go fucking along?” Kyle exclaimed into the mic.

The crowd whood, the crowd of people cheering this… Obscenity — as you’d call it.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, digging her short fingernails into her palms.

You lifted your chin up. Shit.

“Ellie and Alison,” Kyle whispered dramatically.

“Kiss.”

Dina squeezed your hand.

“Ellies gonna get some…” She melodically hummed in your ear.

Your face twitched.

“Alison — take your shirt off. Ellie, gotta give us a show”

Ellie went bright red. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to fucking do this. It buzzed in her ears, echoing inside her brain.

It was almost as if a comically bright light bulb appeared on top of her head.

What if this was payback.

She could never have you, couldn’t she?

What if this one hurt.

What if you realized.

Ellie didn’t dare to look at you, but she felt it. She felt you shift, she felt the harsh breath that escaped your mouth.

Alison crawled closer. So did Ellie. Her shoe grazed your knee as she moved.

You swallowed deeply.

Alison’s eyes twinkled amidst the dim lights.

Ellie felt her toes curl inside her Chuck’s. Her breathing got heavier, and her heartbeat fastened up. It wasn’t because of Alison, or Andrea, whatever her name was. It was beating because you were watching.

Alison initiated it. It was a small peck, at first.

Your hand was trembling.

“Go Ellie!” Dina cheered.

Ellie took it as a green light.

She parted her lips slowly, and sucked Alison in for a kiss. A hungry one, slow and steady, a wet tongue slipping in, gently swirling inside the shirtless ginger’s mouth. When Alison whimpered silently, Ellie brought her hand up to squeeze her breast. The crowd was cheering her on.

You felt like a monster took over your body. Your throat closed up, eyes growing moist. Oh shit. You were about to fucking cry.

Ellie grabbed Alison’s neck, and held her firmly.

It felt like it was going on for hours.

And then it stopped. Alison was panting, and Ellie was too.

There it was. The first tear that crawled down your right cheek.

“I’m going to the bathroom” you whispered to Dina.

Ellie looked across her shoulder.

You weren’t there anymore.

“Where’d she go?” She wiped her wet mouth on a black leather covered shoulder.

“Bathroom” Dina said, absentmindedly with a smile.

“Fuck”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

♡ part four ♡

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 - ɪᴄᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ

Summary: In the middle of exams and a diet of instant noodles, you decide to order some take out. What you did not expect was your delivery person to be a hot guy on a motorcycle, who, as fate would have it, happens to be a fellow student at your university.

tags.: One Piece, Trafalgar Law, Law x Reader, NSFW, slow burn romance (?), Modern AU, law has a motorcycle cuz its hot

a.n.: some promised interaction with reader and Law ;) getting closer to the study date

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Weeks had passed in a blur of textbooks, late-night cramming, and a steady stream of food deliveries. Cooking felt like an impossible luxury, something you promised yourself would happen after the exams. For now, the easiest solution was ordering in, and you had gotten used to it. Still, a small thrill sparked each time the doorbell rang, hoping it would be him—the delivery guy who had become an unexpected highlight in your routine. Most of the time, it was someone else, but occasionally, luck favored you. You’d exchange small talk as you fumbled for his tip, though he rarely engaged much beyond short responses. Even so, he never seemed bothered by your attempts at conversation.

Today, something was different. When you opened the door, the usual spark in his grey eyes was dimmed, his features drawn tight with exhaustion. Dark circles clung to his eyes, and his breath came fast, as if he’d sprinted the whole way. You handed him the money, but before he could turn to leave, you found yourself blurting out, “Do you want some water?”

He paused, surprise flickering across his face before he nodded gratefully. “Uh, yeah, that’d be great...” he said, voice rough around the edges, as a gloved hand stroke through his messy hair, which seemed more chaotic than usual.

You rushed to grab a glass, heart pounding for reasons you didn’t quite understand. Probably because you somehow feared that you could mess up the simply task of bringing him something to drink. The crush you developed was very obvious to you, even though you wished you stayed oblivious for the sake of your sanity. When you returned and offered him the water, he downed it quickly, standing awkwardly by the door.

You didn't want this to be another two minute small talk session before he walked off like the other times. Somehow you had to break the ice, or at least try it. Gathering some courage, you wanted to use this rare opportunity to try to get him to talk to you more. However, your creativity in finding a good starter failed you, so you simply asked, “…stressful night?” With a somewhat shy smile.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave a low, noncommittal hum, but then—surprisingly—he spoke, engaging in your attempt of a conversation. “Uni… plus this job, it’s just a lot. Exams are around the corner.” His voice carried a weariness you hadn’t noticed before, however it was very clear when he reminded himself that he still had to study after his shift. Just the thought of it made him want to throw up and jump off a bridge. As much as he liked his degree, it was taking a toll on him.

Your eyes widened a bit. This was the first real conversation you’d had with him, and for once, he wasn’t in a rush to leave. He actually replied like a normal person would, not someone just delivering your food. “What do you study?” you asked, gripping the empty glass a little too tightly, hoping you wouldn't break the flow of the chit chat.

“Meds.” He said nonchalant, while not really liking to mention it. Luckily you didn't notice his dislike about this topic. People usually didn’t expect a person looking like him, all inked and pierced, to be in that degree. specially with the word "Death" tattoed boldly across his knuckles.

Your calm response - a simple nod and soft hum - eased the tension in his shoulders however. It was unfamiliar to him, but oddly comforting. You didn’t seem to judge him for his appearance and choice in degree, which certainly left an impression on him.

“How about you?”

Your heart skipped a bit. Oh, he was asking about you! It felt more personal than your usual chitchat about the weather, and you couldn’t help but wonder in your delusional mind, if this meant that he was interested in you too (completely ignoring that it might simply be an act of politeness). You gave him a somewhat shy smile and rubbed the back of your neck:”Meds.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smirk, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Probably the first different expression you had seen on his face, other than his typical uninterested gaze. Seeing that barely visible smirk did something to you.

“Biochem next week?” He asked as he shifted his weight. He began to wonder if he’d ever seen you around campus and just didn't notice.

“Don’t remind me, Topic 8 is making me go nuts.” you chuckled lightly, suddenly feeling like you were bonding over this shared misery of the upcoming exam.

“Topic 8 huh?”, he smirked lightly yet again and cocked an eyebrow, reminding himself what material it included. Brutal indeed.

“Heh, yea…are you seriously juggling studying and deliveries?”

He gave another quiet hum, brushing his hair back again, but you could see the strain behind it. While you spent days holed up in your apartment, he was balancing coursework with grueling shifts. The thought stirred something in you - sympathy, admiration, maybe a little more.

“H-Hey… uh, if you ever need a study buddy, let me know yea?” The words tumbled out before you could fully think them through, your voice betraying the nerves you were trying so hard to hide.

Was that supposed to sound like a date? A study date? Heat crept up your neck as the thought hit you. You barely knew this guy, yet somehow, he’d gotten under your skin. The way he carried himself, the quiet strength in his eyes, even the unkempt hair that made him look effortlessly cool—it was all too much. You wanted to know more, and you felt like this might be an ice breaker, considering he was literally a block of ice.

The delivery guy - whose name you still didn’t know - blinked, caught off guard for a split second. His eyes, still tired but sharp, met yours with an unreadable expression. He was weighing his options. If he was being honest, he found you... surprisingly bearable. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that you had a thing for him - the way you always seemed nervous when he showed up at your door made that clear. He expected you to flirt with him, tip him more or dress differently to somehow impress him. Yet you didn’t, every time he came by to deliver your order, you gave him the same amount of tip, looked messy as usual (probably because of the exam coming up) and greeting him with the same polite manner.

Thinking about it, he began to wonder whether you genuinely had a thing for him or if you were simply a naturally anxious person.

“Sure...this was my last order, actually,” he said casually. He didn’t add anything more, letting the words hang between you.

Your mind went blank. What were you supposed to say?

“Good for you”?

“Congrats”?

The silence that followed felt suffocating, each second stretching painfully. Was he waiting for you to say something? Or worse - was he expecting you to do something? Invite him in, maybe? Your heart hammered in your chest, and your thoughts swirled in a confused mess.

You stole a glance at his face, searching for any clue to what he might be thinking, but his expression remained unreadable, guarded as always. That made it even harder to tell. Did he want something? Did he want anything at all?

You wanted nothing more than to invite him inside, to fling the door open and pull his handsome face into your apartment. But you hesitated. You wanted to get to know him, not just jump into something impulsive. Well, at least that’s what the more rational part of your brain kept insisting. Stranger danger, you reminded yourself.

The silence between you stretched, becoming thick and uncomfortable as your thoughts spiraled. Realizing that you hadn’t said anything for what felt like too long, you cleared your throat awkwardly and rubbed the back of your neck, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. Stay calm. Don’t overthink it.

“I’d prefer if we met somewhere else to study. It’s getting late anyway,” you said, trying to sound casual.

To your surprise, he didn’t seem disappointed or frustrated. In fact, he looked... content? You had expected some resistance, maybe irritation that you hadn’t invited him in, but none of that showed on his face.

Did he just test you?

He nodded and, without a word, began removing his motorcycle gloves, then pulled out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. You watched him closely, instinctively holding the empty glass in your hands tighter against your chest. “Mind if I get your number?”

You quickly exchanged numbers, the whole interaction feeling slightly surreal. He gave his phone one last glance, reading your name on the display, before putting it back into his pocket and turning to leave. He gave you one last faint smile,"see ya around, Y/N." and walked off.

Once he was gone and you had closed the door behind you, you checked your phone. The name now saved in your contacts: Trafalgar Law. The name didn’t ring any bells, but you knew you’d be spending a good chunk of your night doing some online stalking to make sure he was who he said he was.

As you settled in for your late-night stalking session with your food, Law headed back to his bike. A small smile played at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t new to one-night stands, and when he’d mentioned his shift was over, it was partly to test the waters—to see what you really wanted. He wouldn’t have refused if you’d invited him in, but he wouldn’t have pursued things beyond that either.

Your offer to study together felt... honest. It left room for something more, for getting to know each other. And for now, that was enough for him.

[Next Chapter]

[teez-the-time]

Choi San, Wolf Warrior

Pairing: Warrior! San x Chief's daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, action, romance, angst

Synopsis: Ten years ago, your best friend San promised his eternal love to you. Now, the danger of his oath creeps through the both of you, and he has to bear the weight of his words. No matter what his fate will be, you must remember that he is the Wolf Warrior.

Warnings: Blood, wounds, death (animals die, I'm so sorry), weapons, cursing, San is fucking RIPPED, reader doesn't do much (sorry again), way too much flashbacks and monologuing (sorry x3, but I do not know how to stop), sappy af.

Wc: 7.8k

Taglist: @darkdayelixer

A/N. Well, it's finally here. This is officially my first fanfic posted here. Do I believe this is my best work? No. Do I care? Maybe, but I appreciate any feedback that you might have (please take into account that English is not my first language, so I rely in grammar checkers and that stuff). I'm not sure if I should keep the second person format, but you tell me what you think. Again, I'm open to suggestions and kind criticism. If the story sucks, sorry not sorry.

Once again, I'm eternally gratefull for the support I've received in this platform. Whatever you need, my DMs are always open.

XOXO -May

A little treat for those who liked the story.

Your tribe had a sacred tradition.

The first hunt is the most sacred; dedicated to whom you thank your life for.

The best hunt is the most important; dedicated to whom you’d die for.

That is why you couldn’t help but tremble while looking at San down below.

Even if he had clearly announced his decision to embark on the journey no more than a couple of months ago, nothing could have prepared your heart.

Not even kneeling alongside your father and your mother at a higher ground, far away from where he stood, could you escape the power radiating from his stance. Even his posture was perfect; perfectly still and elegant, like a wolf just like the one he had marked with ink on his chest. His eyes looked up, and you knew your Sanie was long gone.

He was Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

The drums started beating in an ancestral rhythm; one you had heard in too many unsuccessful attempts. Men and women below hollered and twirled their bodies to the music, almost in a spiritual trance brought by the excitement of the hunt. The sound got louder and louder in your chest, so hard that it felt like a second heart. Your hands were shaking and you couldn’t help the shivers that ran several times through your spine. You just kept praying for it to be over.

And just as they had started, the drums ceased as your father rose as the chief of the village. He, too, didn’t feel like your father anymore, his hierarchical title far outweighed the one of father right now. You couldn’t decipher his expression, no longer familiar to you.

“Choi San”, his voice boomed through the whole village, “why are you here today?”

To you, San didn’t look intimidated one bit. “I’ve returned to fulfill my promise made sixty-two days ago, in this very place.”

This was all part of the ceremony, nothing more than a formality, but your heart fluttered with San’s words. But still, you knew he was wrong. No, he didn’t make that promise sixty-two days prior. He had made it way before that when you both were young kids.

He had promised to marry you ten years ago, at age twelve.

But your father didn’t find it that endearing. “An oath like that can’t be made by anyone. Are you sure you will be able to keep it?”.

San didn’t fall for the taunting. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Are you sure? Do you even know the consequences?”

Everyone knew them, even more San. “Yes, sir. I know them.”

“Are you willing to go through them then? Even if it means your death?”

With that, San let out a grin. “Especially if it means my death…sir.”

Then, the chief let go of the mocking stance he had tried and became solemn again. For the briefest second, you had hoped San stepped down, but you also knew him like the back of your hand. You knew he never backed down from a challenge.

Your father cleared his throat. “Very well, then. Seeing your determination to proceed, I’ll remind you once more of the rules.”

The few whispers and hushed voices that had been going around since the start finally came to a halt. The newfound silence made your head spin and your palms shake even more.

Gods, you prayed, don’t let harm come to my San. Please give him my strength and my will if he needs them.

“Rule number one. You have only one chance. If it’s lost, it’s lost. Gone forever.”

“Rule number two. You will not receive aid from anyone or anything. The village will only intercede if the hunt doesn’t finish with the beast’s death.”

“Rule number three. You will only carry one weapon of your choice and no armor. Any of those will deem the attempt failed, and you will lose your only chance.”

“Rule number four. The hunt only stops after one of you is dead.”

While your father talked, San seemed unfazed. Even if he already knew the rules, it made you uneasy to not know what he was thinking. You felt the urge to run to where he stood, grab his hand, and smooth out the crease on his brow that always popped up when he was thinking hard.

You yearned for nothing more than to be by his side.

“Choi San,” now your father spoke in a warning tone, “dare to break the rules, and you will face consequences bigger than what you can imagine. I will make sure of that.”

Not once had San looked intimidated, and that put your heart at ease (just a tiny bit, if you are being honest).

“I understood perfectly, sir.” San had always respected your father as a chief, so he always tried to keep his composure despite the adrenaline in his veins making him want nothing more than to begin with the hunt. But he had to remain polite, especially now that he was trying to become his successor.

“Good,” the chief stated plainly. “If there’s nothing else to say…let the hunt begin!”

The drums resumed in a frenetic rhythm, making your heart race once more. Nevertheless, below where you sat, San seemed pumped by it. He let the thick fur coat he wore fall to the ground, exposing his naked torso and ripped pants. You knew he did it to prove he wore nothing to protect him, but you couldn’t the blush that crept to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, that was hot” you murmured unintentionally. You looked to your left to see if your parents heard. Your father didn’t appear to have listened to you, concentrated on his duty as referee, but your mother let out a snort. You shot her a glare and she tried to suppress her laughter.

Trying to appear unfazed, you looked back at San. He was now holding a beautiful sword, which you knew like the back of your hand. The hilt was golden and decorated with flowers and power symbols. A short inscription written at the butt.

Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

It was barely more than his name, but San had spent a fortune having it engraved in the shape of your handwriting. You smiled at the memory of a sixteen-year-old San running to show you his new possession.

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard your name being shouted from behind you. When you turned, it was San running towards you at full speed, holding a piece of fabric in his hands. He finally reached you, showing his dimpled smile. “Geez, why do you have those ears if you can't even listen when one is shouting at you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut it. Not my fault you are so out of breath that I couldn’t understand shit of what you were shouting.”

“I was not-!” He looked like he wanted to bicker, again, with you, but he cut himself short. “It doesn’t matter, look what I got!” He proceeded to remove part of the folded fabric, exposing a shiny object. The blade of a sword. You let out a gasp and he chuckled. “Beautiful, isn’t it? But there’s more.”

He uncovered the rest of the weapon, and your eyes fell on the golden inscription. The letters were masterfully carved on the metal, so much it took you a moment to realize it was written in your handwriting.

“Is this…?” You didn’t even finish your sentence, and San already knew what you were trying to say.

“Yes. Custom-made from the best welder in town. It cost me a fortune, but it’s worth it.” San was grinning like an idiot at what he thought was an accomplishment.

Nevertheless, that didn’t sit right with you (even though you couldn’t deny that your heart was racing like a horse). “Are you dumb?! Why are you spending your money on dumb things like this?”

Your heart broke a little when you saw his smile falter. “What are you saying? Of course, it’s not dumb!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it 's not!”

“I said, yes it is!”

He frowned and grabbed your hand. “No, it’s not. Wanna know why? Because every time I wield it and see the hilt, I’ll be reminded of what I have back home. That I have someone waiting for me to come back. My treasure.”

His words from back then still made you feel warm, and after that, you always felt proud seeing him carry that sword.

Your gaze is torn away from the weapon to San himself. He was pacing around the makeshift arena planned for these occasions, warming up his limbs. His eyes seemed to wander through the place, not focusing on anyone, until they fell on you. Despite the seriousness that had ruled his behavior up until that point, he gifted you one of his characteristic smiles, which turned his eyes into two small crescents. Even with the loud music coming from the drums, you heard some girls squeal from his gesture, and you laughed at that.

San always knew how to lighten up the mood of every situation.

He kept walking until his back was turned from you, which you took as a chance to admire his sculptured figure. While he had always made clear to whom his heart belonged, that didn’t keep people from falling in love with his god-like looks. His chiseled torso was littered with tattoos, going around his arms, neck, and ribs, in addition to the big wolf head on his chest he had gotten when he was nineteen (when he had absolutely begged you to come with him for moral support).

His body was also covered in scars, mostly from battle wounds and hunting accidents. Some looked old and faded, while others appeared more recent. You knew each of them fully, seeing that you were the only one San let tend to him during those times. When he lowered his arms, you got a glimpse of his most famous one, which he bore on his left forearm. The one that earned him the title of Wolf Warrior, back when he was just twelve.

You stood waiting, just a few meters from the edge of the forest the boys had gone into a few days prior. Many of them had already returned and were celebrating all around you. But, still, there was no sign of San’s return.

You had accompanied San’s parents to wait for San to return from his ritual first hunt. For your people, this marked the beginning of manhood; a rite of passage from boys to men. It was the first time each of the boys would go hunting on their own, and they wouldn’t be allowed to come back without a prize. This ceremony was reserved for only the closest people in the boy’s life, but San’s parents had asked you to come since you were his best friend (and practically their niece, being their best friends’ daughter).

“It’s getting late, again,” San’s father said, and he was right. The sky was turning red and purple with the last lights of the day. Another day without San. “It’s only been three days, so it might still be early for him to return.”

“But most of the boys have come back,” his mother noted. She bit her lip, looking at the forest. Then, she looked at the grass and let out a sigh. “I guess you are right, we can wait another day.”

They moved to leave but stopped when they saw you hadn’t gone with them. “Y/N, let’s go home.”

You wanted to wait just a bit more. Just to be sure San wouldn’t come back that day. “I want to wait a few more minutes. If you want, you can go ahead and I’ll go back when I’m done. There are plenty of other parents here, so don’t worry about me!”

They didn’t look convinced, but they still let you. “Fine, but come back running to us if something happens.”

You waved them goodbye, but before long had passed, you saw some bushes rustle. You squinted to make sure your vision didn’t betray you, and a large figure emerged from the last line of trees. A scream rose to your throat when you saw the thick fur, but it soon died down when you saw the person carrying the furry mass.

“It’s San! It's San!” you shouted back at the distant figures of San’s parents. Thankfully, they had heard you, and they were sprinting back to your position. You ran behind them but stayed back when you saw them embrace their son.

“My son, my son is alright!” his mother repeated while holding him in her arms. Her husband embraced both of them without saying anything, but his face showed the relief he felt.

He is supposed to have returned a man, you thought while looking at the sweet scene, but they will still treat him like their baby.

“San is back!” you heard another boy say, “San came back from the hunt! But…what did he bring back though?”

That seemed to return San and his parents to reality. The ceremony wasn’t finished, as he still hadn’t presented his prize. They untangled themselves from their son and stepped back, allowing him to regain composure. It was then that you could finally see San clearly for the first time. He was soiled in mud, part of his clothes were tattered, and he had several scratches on his face, neck, and arms, but he didn’t seem bothered by them. He looked exhausted, on the verge of collapse even.

“San, my son,” his dad called out to him, “what have you brought from the hunt?”

San looked back at the big leather bag he had dropped with his parents' hug attacked. From the opening, a lot of fur spilled out without a clear form. “My prey was difficult to catch, that’s why I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sanie,” his mother reassured him but, to you, she looked nervous. “It doesn't matter what it is, just that you are here. Have you decided who you will offer it to?”

You smiled at your friend. Even if you had stood back all this time to let the Choi family have their moment, you were overjoyed at seeing your best friend take part in one of the most important challenges in his life, and you would have given anything to run to his arms. Nevertheless, you stood back and contented yourself with giving him your usual reassuring smile (also, you couldn’t deny that you were madly curious to see to whom he would give his hunt, although knowing him, it was probably his parents).

Somehow, when you caught San’s eye, he didn’t relax. On the contrary, he stepped back from his parents' embrace and clutched his bag, never releasing tension. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

Mr. and Mrs. Choi held hands, seeing their now-grown son make an important decision. You also squealed in delight, cheering on your friend as he threw the bag over his shoulder with effort. He walked towards his parents and…ignored them?

Your confusion grew as he walked past his parents in your direction. You looked behind yourself, just to see no one. San kept approaching you until he stood merely two feet away. At that distance, you had a better view of all his injuries, especially the gnarly cut on his left forearm.

“Oh my god, Sanie!” you let out, closing the distance to grab his injured arm. “You need to get that treated immediately. It’s going to scar!”

Tension seemed to lift from his shoulders as San heard your typical nagging. He grabbed your wrist back and unlatched your fingers from his arm. “That’s not important right now!”

“What do you mean-!”

“It’s not,” he cut you off. Stepping back a little, he put the bag back on the ground, letting it fall with a loud thud. “This is what’s important right now”.

He opened it completely, a gray furry mass spilling out partially. San kept grabbing and pulling, freeing the animal from the cramped space. Once it was completely out, you let out a scream.

An enormous wolf was looking back at you.

“San, what the hell!” you stumbled back from the shock. “You brought a whole ass wolf?! Are you allowed to give that thing to someone?”

Sanie beamed his boyish smile. He grabbed the animal by the scruff, not raising from his kneeling position, and offered it to you. “I’m not giving it to ‘someone’. I, Choi San, from the Choi family, present my most sacred achievement to you, whom I most treasure and thank for in life”.

Your memory was shattered by the piercing shriek that resonated through the arena, making you clutch your necklace (made from the wolf’s teeth) in fear. It sounded like straight out of your nightmares.

The rumble of heavy steps only confirmed your worst fears.

San was looking directly at the forest line, where the noises were coming from. He stood his ground as a couple of trees fell and many shook with violence. The shouts of other men could be heard as they came closer and closer. Finally, before the whole tribe appeared a creature that left you nauseous.

Four enormous green and scaly legs carried an even bigger body; as tall as the tallest building in your village. The scales shone under the harsh sunlight and were thick enough to compare to an iron armor. Its talons tore through the hard soil like it was mere sand. Its lack of wings didn’t make it less intimidating; on the contrary, it warned its prey of its prowess on land. But it wasn’t the size, the fangs, the talons of the scales that paralyzed your body.

It was the eyes.

For the briefest moment, your gaze connected with the dragon’s. Its eyes glowed red with a primal fury you had only seen on a cornered animal, waiting to fight back if only to cause damage to its hunter before its ultimate demise. That look raised every hair on your body.

The dragon continued to shriek and thrash against the chains that the men, whom you recognized as San’s best friends, held tightly. They were being overpowered by the creature’s brute force, but they still held on for their friend’s chance at having the best prize the village would ever see.

All for you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” San had turned to the crowd, “let the best hunt our people have ever witnessed in our long history begin!”

The sound of chains hitting the ground was almost drowned by the roar of your people. Once the beast was free, it lounged at full speed at San, forgetting about his other captors, hissing and letting its venom drip on the floor. An involuntary scream was ripped from your throat as you stood from your kneeling position.

“San, run!” you screamed moving forward, but a heavy hand on your shoulder stopped you from going further. It was your father’s.

“No, you stay here,” he demanded.

“Father, you have to stop this,” you pleaded at him. “This is madness! San can’t fight on his own against that!”

But your father was unmoving. “No, this is the challenge he chose, and he must accept his fate.”

“You don’t believe that,” your tone was dark, “at least not with San. Do you want your best friends’ child to die a stupid death? Do you want my best friend to die a stupid death?! Because I wi-!”

While he had remained emotionless during all the ceremony, now he looked furious. “(Y/N), compose yourself for gods’ sake!”

“But-”

“Your feelings do not matter right now, only San’s. He is down there, risking his life only for you to look at him. He chose this, no one else, and what he needs the most right now is your support. Do you understand?”

You understood, and those were the words you needed to sober up. Regardless of your feelings, whether you thought he was being reckless or not, San was fighting for the acceptance of your love in the eyes of your village. He didn’t need you to doubt him, he needed you to be by his side. Not to mention that he would be upset that you doubted his strength.

Until that moment, San had managed to evade all of the dragon’s attacks, opting for taking a defensive stance. The strength and size difference between them was abysmal, so the fate of either would be reduced to who could endure the chase for the longest. A battle of attrition.

The dragon charged at full speed once more, and San stood his ground, sword in front of him. The beast had almost reached him, when San dodged at the last second, managing to slash the tendon of one of its talons, but his arm brushed against one of its scales. Blood began to gush out of the wound, but he paid no mind to it. The battle was far from over, and he was determined to be the last one standing. He owed it to himself, and you.

For what seemed hours (and probably were), you saw San run around the arena, dodging attacks and inflicting more on his opponent. He was visibly injured, having been hit numerous times by the sharp weapons of the dragon, and caked on blood and mud. Nevertheless, the dragon itself wasn’t in a much better state; San had managed to slash open the tendons of three out of the four legs, and it had trouble moving at a fast speed. The sturdy sword of San had also pierced the thick armor of the beast, leaving big wounds on its sides and belly.

Dragons were magnificent creatures. They were perfectly designed to withstand almost all types of damage, being covered in those solid scales that rivaled metal. Some had enormous wings that they used to soar the skies of their vast territories, some breathed fire and ice. Many explorers even claimed that some races could even understand human language. From those many tales, it was expected to believe these beasts were invincible. However, what not many knew was that dragons did have a weakness, a physical one even. Under the sturdy chunks of armor on the chest, just at the area where the heart would’ve been located, the scales were more fragile, soft enough to let a blade penetrate the skin and kill the creature. Not many knew of this weak spot due to the difficulty of even getting close to a dragon, let alone surviving the encounter. Not many knew of it, except for San.

He could see that the dragon was getting tired from constantly playing the offensive. The blood loss was weighing it down, making its attacks slower and weaker, and San wasn’t easy prey to catch. He had been getting closer and closer to the one spot that would lead him to victory. The plan was to make the dragon bleed as much as possible, before ending it all in one move. He wasn’t much fan of making his prey suffer, but neither he was of getting his head bit off (leaving you practically widowed).

San kneeled for a moment, taking a breather as the dragon hissed at a new wound he made near its tail. His own injuries were also slowing him down, although the adrenaline kept him moving. He knew he couldn’t keep up much longer, and it was time to put an end to the battle while he still had the strength to continue.

It was time for the last act.

You saw San muster up the strength to stand up. You had lost count of how many times he was close to finally hunting down the dragon, so now you prayed that he just kept inflicting cuts on the beast until it finally died from blood loss. However, something was different in San. He seemed more confident this time, and you knew what it meant. San was now playing the offensive.

In half a second, San had banished from where he had been standing. Your eyes found him again a few meters closer to the dragon, sprinting at full speed directly towards him. The animal had taken notice of your friend, and stood firmly on its four legs, waiting to rip his head off his body. When San was directly in front of it, the dragon raised on its hind legs, as if to gather full force to strike down on the man and end the fight. You let out a gasp.

It was a fatal mistake.

Instead of stopping as the dragon had expected, San slid underneath it, raising his sword as the creature threw itself down full force. You blinked. One moment, the dragon had been roaring in victory and, in the next one, it was shuddering as it had impaled itself directly into San’s blade. The last remnants of life escaped in convulsions from the body of the beast, and it collapsed unceremoniously into the ground, a mere carcass of the magnificent animal it had been before. The crowd went quiet for the death of a splendid being.

You couldn’t care less for the animal. You couldn’t see San, so you were beginning to be worried that he had been crushed under the weight of the dragon. Your eyes frantically searched for him, until a figure emerged from beside the dead body. San was drenched in blood and struggled to breathe. He had never let go of the sword.

It was the true sight of a legendary hero.

San raised his hand and tried to wipe away some of the blood off his face, which made you chuckle as it was also covered in blood. Realizing the futility of that, he desisted and, instead, looked down on his weapon. He smiled at the inscription and grabbed it with his two hands. In one swift movement, he stabbed the chest of the dragon once more. You frowned in confusion as he kept stabbing and cutting through the body of the beast, as it was already dead, leaving a carnage behind. Behind you, a couple of old men were discussing the useful properties of all the organs and parts of the dragon and how they would have used them, but you couldn’t care less about that. At last, San seemed to find what he was looking for and dropped the sword. He plunged his hands into the hole he had made (which made you gag a little if you were being honest) and pulled out something. Everyone around you let out a collective gasp.

San was holding a dragon’s heart. A heart made out of pure gold.

Your jaw went slack. The heart was huge, as it belonged to a huge creature, and probably weighed a considerable amount. Nevertheless, San held it with the remaining strength he had. You couldn’t start to fathom the value of such rarity, much less the fact that it was now yours. The crowd cheered as he raised the piece over his head; a sign that declared him the victor.

Having basked in glory long enough, San secured a grip on the golden heart and began the ascent towards where you still kneeled beside your father and mother. It wasn’t that long of a distance, but carrying a heavy object after hours of battle sure was harsh on his body. Despite the ache, he continued to advance.

Your mother reached out for you, smiling as she grabbed your hand affectionately. "He did it! He did it! Finally, you can marry San!"

Finally.

You glanced down at San once more. The grown man that just killed a dragon looked nothing like the kid from ten years ago.

"Marry me". San blurted out of nowhere. The sudden request startled you, making you accidentally press on his wound. "Ouch! Be careful, you idiot!"

You felt offended. "Me? An idiot? You are the dumbass that proposes to someone while they are cleaning your wound. I should let your arm rot for being an idiot and reckless on your first hunt!"

He glared at you. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Try me."

He didn't reply, and you fell into a comfortable silence. San had dragged you away from the banquet his family had prepared on account of his newly acquired "manhood", complaining how his arm hurt from not being properly treated and he needed you to do it for him. Now you sat on a small hut next to his house, illuminated by a small candle, jars of ointments and gauzes lying on the floor beside your forms.

San watched as you applied another cream to his arm. "You didn't answer".

You didn't look at him, focused on treating him. "You didn't ask anything". Before he could hit you with a reply, you added "Besides, we can't get married".

That seemed to upset him. "Why not? We know each other perfectly, and our parents as best friends. I'm sure they would accept it".

You laughed at his naïveness. "It's not about approval. Marriage is for people that love each other".

Now, San just seemed confused. "But we love each other. We say it all the time".

"We love each other," you conceded, "but we aren't in love with each other". San's expression remained confused, so you tried to explain it in another way. "You and I love each other as brother and sister, and we act as such. People that get married treat the other as…well…lovers. They spend time together, they share stuff, they hold hands, they kiss. They swear to be with each other until death. They take care of each other. Forever!"

Your explanation didn't convince San. "But, don't we already do that? Minus the kissing, of course. Wouldn't that mean we are in love?"

The mere thought of being in love with San sent your prepubescent brain into short-circuit. It repulsed you in some way, as you had only looked at him as a brother, but you couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach.

"No, it doesn't," you exclaimed. "Also, people that get married first become girlfriend and boyfriend! You can't be my boyfriend!"

San also looked repulsed at the sound of that word. "Ew, no! I don't want a girlfriend".

"See, that's why we can't get married".

"I don't want a girlfriend," his eyes burned holes in your head, "but I still think it would be nice if we got married. We already promised to be in each other's life forever and I care for you, so I don't think it'd make much difference".

You briefly looked back at him and rolled your eyes, grabbing a roll of gauze. "Why are you even thinking about that, Sanie? Marriage is an adult thing. We are twelve-year-old kids!"

"Speak for yourself! This proves I'm a grown man", he pointed at the wound, grinning. You shot him an amused look, opting for saying nothing and continuing with your job. It didn't take much time for San to break the silence yet again. "I guess all this new 'adulthood' stuff got me thinking about this new chapter of my life and-"

"Mhm"

"-all the things I can do now. Somehow that ended up in my thinking about marriage and how would it feel to get married to someone you like, you know?"

"Yes, yes".

"Then I thought of who I would marry, and I thought of you. Since all that best friend shit is basically the same shit you described, but if you say it's different, I guess it is. Either way, we should wait a little more before that, to think matters better and decide if-"

Oh, no. San had started rambling. "Sanie! What on gods' sake are you trying to say?!"

"What age do you think is the most appropriate to get married?" He looked dead serious now.

You finished dressing the wound, and threw your tools on the ground, exasperated by San's strange behavior. "I don't know! I already said that marriage is for adults!"

"Well, then at what age did your parents get engaged?"

You loved the story of how your parents go together, so it was an easy question. “Oh, my father proposed to my mother when he was twenty-two and she wa-”

San beamed as he interrupted you once more. “Perfect! Then my proposal will be suspended until then. I will ask you again when I turn twenty-two. That way I’ll give you time to fall in love with me, or whatever it is that you need.”

All the previous conversations had proven fruitless again and again, so it was better to leave things as they were, hoping that soon San would move to other subjects.

“Fine, whatever. We’ll probably have forgotten it by then”.

Except, he did not. And neither did you. On the contrary. With time, you had grown fond of your best friend, leaving behind the innocent affections of childhood to make place for the blossoming feelings of romantic love. Where you were hesitant to express these feelings, he openly did to anyone and anything willing to listen. He wanted you and only you. It wasn’t only the grand moments of expressed admiration that made you fall for him, but the quiet moments of thoughtfulness that instilled your devotion for him.

When he carried your things without a word, even if he knew you were perfectly capable of doing it on your own. When he held your hand as you walked through more deserted parts of the village. When you would silently work on the injuries he would bring home, never asking how he got them. When you would hold each other, letting the other shed their tears, just basking in each other’s comfort.

All those moments paved the way for the unspoken transformation of your relationship. You were neither friends nor lovers. No words could describe the depth of your understanding of each other. So, for you and the rest of the world, you were simply “Y/N and San”.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As usual in any other important celebration, San had dragged you away from everybody. This time, it was his birthday and, although he loved being with his friends and family, he wanted to spend time alone with you. As you both grew, so did your responsibilities, yours as the daughter of the village chief and San’s as the strongest member, so there were periods where your time together was limited.

As soon as you were decently away from the rest of the party, San had taken you in his arms in a warm embrace. You inhaled his scent. He smelled like home. You didn’t question what was up with the sudden display of affection, you knew he would let you know in time. He was never one to keep quiet for much time.

“Marry me”.

He hadn’t forgotten. San was a man of his word.

“Today I turn twenty-two,” he told you, as if you weren’t currently celebrating that fact, “it’s the day I’m finally asking you to be mine”.

Your heart threatened to escape your ribcage from pure glee. “I’ve always been yours, Sanie. Since the day you first asked.”

You felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Thank you, thank you. You know that I belong to you too. I’ll take care of you, so good. Every day, all day. And you won’t be able to get rid of me”.

You chuckled. “I don’t know about that. You can barely take care of yourself”.

“But it’s different since I don't care about myself, only about my treasure”.

For longer, you remained like you were. Many breaths passed before any of you said anything.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” he announced, shattering the moment, “it won’t be for too long and the guys are coming with me”.

“Leaving? To where?” you asked, confused.

“As much as I’d love to stay with my beautiful fiancée,” you loved how the title sounded coming from him, “I have to bring her a pretty hunting trophy, so she can boast to the whole town about having the strongest boyfriend to ever live”.

You stayed silent. Even if you wanted San to forgo tradition and stay with you, you knew he wasn’t in an easy position. As the chief’s daughter, you didn’t require him to only fulfill the role of the husband. By marrying you, he would automatically become the next in line for the position of chief, as you had no male relatives that could assume it. Thus, he needed to prove himself worthy of you and the whole village.

The very next day, he announced to your community his intentions of marrying you and becoming head of the village. The day after that, he was gone.

Sixty-two days had passed since you last felt his warmth, so when he stood before you, still covered in blood and grime, holding his heart (well, not his in a strict manner), you itched to extend your hand to his cheek and wipe the exhaustion away.

Once more, the ceremonial drums stopped after hours of incessant banging. It was time for your father to speak.

“Choi San,” he called out to your lover, “Ten years ago, when you were barely a man, I bestowed you the title of ‘Wolf Warrior’, which has been reserved for the strongest of our kind, in hopes that you would use it to protect and serve our people. Despite that great honor, you have used that same title and strength to recklessly endanger our home by bringing a dragon for mere spectacle. Had things gone askew, it wouldn’t have been just your life that we would have lost, but many others”.

After the little speech he gave you about trusting San, you were surprised by the harsh scolding your father was giving San in front of other people. Nevertheless, you understood his position as responsible for the village.

“However, on this day you have achieved a feat none of our ancestors could compare to. The tale of the man who single-handedly slew an adult dragon with just a sword will be told by many generations to come, under the title of ‘Choi San, the Dragon Warrior’; title I am to bestow you and will only belong to you. But I’m afraid names and merits would be meaningless if the intent behind them isn’t honored”.

Your father paused briefly before resuming. “Time and time again, you have proven your worth as a man beyond the power of his sword. Your contributions to the safekeeping of our people speak for themselves, and any reward would be in order as compensation for your service. However, I know you seek not money or fame, but something deeper than that.

“Choi San. I’ve seen you and Y/N grow into the splendid adults you are today. I’ve seen your care for each other and your understanding of each other. After today, I do no doubt that there is no better man for my daughter, and no better one to succeed me when I am no longer able. Therefore, I declare successful your attempt and bless the union between the two of you”.

Your heart soared higher than the sky above you. You could have broken your neck with how fast you whipped your head to look back at San, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

San. San. Sanie.

He was on one knee on the ground before you. The golden heart sat on the floor in front of him, displayed as an offering to you. He held his hands open, waiting for you to take them. You did so, standing up and grabbing his fingers, not caring one bit that they were still covered in grime. San looked at you intensely, wanting you to look at him and only him. Now and for the rest of your lives.

“My treasure,” he spoke so softly as if you were going to shatter if he spoke any louder, “from my very first breath, everything I’ve done has been for you and only you. My first thoughts in the morning and my last ones before bed are of you, and even in my sleep I see you next to me. Every beat of my heart is for you, until the last of them. But, even then, there are no words to describe how deeply I love you”.

Your lips quivered, but you broke into a teary smile nonetheless. “Oh, Sanie. If you keep going, I’m afraid I will cry for real”.

“Don’t worry,” he gripped your hands tighter, “I will be here to wipe away all of them”. San planted a kiss on your knuckles before continuing. “Ever since I was a child, I knew it was you who I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, even if you disliked the idea of that. I knew it had to be me who had to be there in your moments of joy, as well as your moments of sadness. It had to be me who cared for you when you weren’t able to care for yourself and be by your side when you didn’t want anyone else. It doesn’t have to be me, but I want it to be me”.

You swore you could hear some girls sigh behind you, and you couldn’t relate more to that.

“Today I, Choi San of the Choi family, offer you the best of me. I present to you this prize as an offering of my heart, my body, and my soul, which from now on are yours to dispose of. If you wish to accept it, and therefore accept me, I’ll belong to you for the rest of eternity. If you let me be by your side, I’ll do my best to care for you, and not even water will touch your hands. These words will be true, whether you accept my offerings or not since it’s only to you I wish to lay my life for”.

With a last kiss to your hands, he brought them up and rested his forehead on them. The tips of his ears appeared slightly red and his own hands trembled. You knew your Sanie enough to recognize he was equally nervous and embarrassed (which he had nothing to feel shame for, as he had said cheesier things under the influence of liquor).

You rubbed your thumbs on the back of his hand, hoping to soothe his nerves. “Rise, my young warrior. A man like you should be kneeling for nobody”.

He didn’t stand up. “But you aren’t ‘nobody’, my love. You are my strength and my will”.

This man will be the death of me, you laughed to yourself.

“And you are the most stubborn man I’ve ever encountered,” you poked at him. You tugged firmly at your intertwined hands, signaling that you needed him to get back on his feet, “and I’m afraid that you won’t be able to hear my words properly from down there”.

That made him look up to you once more, and finally stand up from the ground. This time, you didn’t hold yourself back from letting go of his fingers to remove a piece of hair from San’s eyes. Your own ones lingered a while longer, just to find themselves cupping his cheek. San snuggled up to your palm instinctively, reminding you of a cat.

“My love,” San closed his eyes and sighed at the name, “you have fought so bravely for the both of us. Not just today, but for a very long time. It is me who should be thanking you for brightening my life with just your presence, and for never giving up on me. We’ve had our highs and lows, but there’s no time of my life that I can remember without you being present. You too have had full ownership of my heart since the very beginning, and it is not my desire for you to relinquish your rights to it”.

“I too want to be the one who cares for you when you aren’t able to fend for yourself. I too want to be who you come to when you have wounds to heal. I want to be who you wake up to every morning, and who you sleep next to every night. I want to be the source of your strength and your place of rest; to protect your heart from harm and your mind from turmoil.”

“My Sanie, for as long as you let me, I will be yours, and even further than that if you decide you love me no more. Everything I have, I will share with you. Where you go, I will go. Whom you love I will love, and whom you despise I will despise. There’s nothing that will give me greater joy than to be yours. So I, Y/N, accept this prize as a symbol of my love and the union that will bind us from now on”.

You had barely finished when you found yourself spinning in the air, San’s hands grabbing you firmly by your waist. You finally let out tears of joy and looked down to see that he was crying too. San put you back on the ground, but never let you go. On the contrary, he pulled you towards him in the biggest hug. One of his hands held you by the waist, while the other rested on the back of your head. Your forehead hid on the crook of his neck, and your hands moved restlessly across his broad back. The drums now played a happy beat and people danced for the new couple. From the corner of your eyes, you could see your parents and San’s embracing each other, finally together as a family.

“My love, my love, my love,” San whispered in your ear, unable to stop repeating those words.

“My Sanie,” you whispered back, “I’m sorry I made you wait for so long”.

“Nothing of that matters now,” he reassured you, “I could have waited longer if it meant I’d have you at the end.”

“You always know what to say,” you joked. “Always the hopelessly romantic idiot”

“You are right. But now I’m your idiot”.

“No, you are my husband”.

San stopped all movement before slightly pushing you away from him. He held your gaze for a couple of seconds before grabbing your face with a smirk adorning his lips. “Hell yeah, I am”.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a heart-stopping kiss. Your brain melted to mush and you could only think about him, surrounding every part of you.

San. San. Sanie.

The world could have ended at that very moment, and neither of you would have cared. Not when you had each other in every sense of the word, cause that is all that mattered. You and him.

Y/N and San.

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Do not use without permission from the author.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Fallen || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!devil!reader Summary: When a young driver wants to make a deal with the devil to get his greatest desire you find yourself forgetting what side of Heaven and Hell you are on. Warnings: supernatural themes, mention of deaths (Jules, Hervé & Hubert), angst, fluff WC: 5k

F1 Masterlist || Bonus Scene

16th October 2013 The kid had no business standing at the crossroads. What could a boy need so desperately that he was willing to part with his soul for it? But it wasn’t your place to question, merely to answer. 

The boy murmured to himself as he knelt on the gravel and started to dig with a pink trowel he had borrowed from his mothers gardening tools. The quiet mutterings brought you amusement as you thought of the surprise he would get when his doubt was proven wrong and you appeared.

He carefully followed the instructions inked on the page that had been torn from a very old book. He reached up to his dark hair with a small pocket knife and cut away a small patch before laying it in the hole he had made. Turning the knife on himself, he whined as he pricked the tip of his finger and squeezed it until three thick blood drops fell onto the strands of his hair.

You would usually laugh at the poor attempt of the incantation to call upon you but instead you sighed as you grew tired of the theatrics. 

“What do you want, kid?”

A small shriek filled the night as he fell back on his ass. “But…but…you…but…”

“Shit, you’re not even old enough to talk properly,” you said as you knelt down to his height. “Go home.”

His mouth snapped closed before scrambling to his feet and wiping the dust that covered his jeans. “Sorry, you gave me a fright. I was expecting…” he looked around and frowned, “never mind. Do you need help?”

“No, do you?” 

He looked genuinely concerned as he searched the dark road and you tipped your head to the side before you remembered that to a human you looked like a 21 year old. It didn’t matter that you had roamed the world for a thousand years, your physical form remained the same.

“I guess not,” he sighed as his shoulders slumped and he kicked his vans at the loose stones as he whispered, “it didn’t work anyway.”

“It was your pronunciation, Latin is a tough language. I’ll let you in on a secret, you can say the incantation in any language and it will work.” You leaned in closer and chuckled darkly. “The devil just enjoys torturing people.” 

“But…but…”

“Great, we’re back to that, are we?” You rolled your eyes and opened your palm, a ball of fire erupting into the night and the scent of sulphur lingering after the flame burned out. “What did you expect when you called me?”

“You…you’re the…dev…”

“Devil,” you offered as his face paled and he stumbled backwards. “Say it with me. De-vil.”

“You’re the devil? But you look like an angel.”

“More or less, there’s actually a lot of us.” You clapped him on the back and grinned when he jumped. “So what can I do for you, kid?”

“I heard you could grant wishes.”

“I’m not a genie, I’m a dealer,” you said with a shake of your head. “You tell me your dream and I make it happen, for a price.”

He chewed on his lip, his conscience trying to warn him it was a bad idea. “What price?”

You flicked your hand out and the piece of paper on the ground flew into your fingers. “You know the price. How old are you anyway, kid?”

“I’m sixteen, today actually.” 

“Congratulations!” You frowned as it didn’t sound quite right and he did the same. “Wait, it’s happy birthday, isn’t it? We don’t exactly have them since we are fallen, not born.”

“That's really sad.”

“Hell help me, you are an emotional one.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as you felt the waves of empathy rolling off the teenager. “Listen, I’m all up for taking souls, it’s my job and I’m pretty good at it, but you seem like a nice guy so I’ll help you out pro bono as long as you don’t cry.”

“Really?” His excitement was almost as infectious as his smile as he grinned at your offer and you could tell that with a few more years of growth and maturity he would be as handsome as those goody-good angels.

“Really. So what’s your dream? And don’t go all ‘Disneyland’ and that shit, make it big.”

“I want to be a Formula One World Champion.”

“Fuck, okay, I said big not gigantic,” you said as you cracked your neck and then your knuckles before rolling your shoulders. “That will take some time to pull off, but we got this, kid.”

“Charles, my name is Charles Leclerc,” he said as he held his hand out. “Do devils have names?”

“Of course we have names, but names have power and I don’t know you well enough to share mine with you.” You shook his hand and he jumped a little at the heat difference since the hellfire made you run hotter than humans. That same heat flickered up your spine as you felt another calling at a crossroad half a world away and so you stepped away. “I’ll check in once a year to see your progress.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

You laughed darkly as thick smoke began to gather at your feet where the earth was opening to your home realm. The teen yelped as a lick of flame encircled his wrist but the scar that appeared just as quickly healed so no one would know he had been marked by the devil.  “Goodbye, Charles.”

16th October 2014 “I wasn’t sure you would actually come, I thought you were a figment of my imagination.”

You stepped out of the shadows and looked around the modest home that should have been full of his friends celebrating his 17th birthday. The air was thick with grief and it made your back ache from the weight of it bearing down on you as you watched the teenager stand with his back to you at a bookcase.

“Maybe I am,” you murmured as you walked over to him and saw his eyes fixated on a photo. 

Placing the photo back carefully on the shelf he turned and you saw the difference a year had made. “I want to make a deal. My soul, take it.”

“Woah, slow down, Birthday Boy, you don’t know what you are offering.”

“I don’t care, I just need him to be alright.” Tears were swimming in his eyes as he grabbed your hand and squeezed tightly. “Fix Jules, please.”

Unable to resist, you reached out and touched the tear that ran down his cheek. Pain obliterated your chest, crushing your insides as waves of memories flooded your senses until you knew Jules just as well as he did.

For the first time since your fall a thousand years ago, you were envious of the angel you had been. You wanted to be the cause of his hope, but that wasn’t something you could give and you tugged your hand from his hold before they could blister his skin. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Bullshit! You are a dealer, you said so yourself.”

“That’s not how it works, Charles, I’m a devil. Don’t you see? The deals I make are selfish, the things people want for themselves. You want a miracle,” you sighed and felt the familiar ache where your wings once were, “I can’t do those anymore.”

“You got me into Formula Renault.”

“You got yourself there, kid,” you said as you stepped away. “I just whispered a few suggestions to people I knew would listen.”

It was a little more threatening involved but you weren’t going to let him know that. You hadn’t needed to do anything other than get someone to give him a chance since he had the talent to win all on his own.

“There has to be something you can do,” he pleaded, his green eyes swimming with tears.

You sighed as you stepped away, rubbing your temple as if you could actually get a migraine like a human could. “I can’t make any promises, but…let me see what I can do.”

You faded from the room before you could see the hope that filled his face and followed the memory of his visit to Jules, finding yourself in the shadows of a hospital room. The room was empty except for the young man laying on the bed, wires and tubes keeping his breathing steady. You were struck by the pain you felt and knew it wasn’t real but the lingering effects of sharing Charles’ memory of him, but that knowledge still didn’t ease the ache.

“Azrael, come down here.”

It only took a second for the angel to appear and she didn’t look pleased at being called away from her duties.

“You’re not an archangel anymore, you can’t just snap your fingers at me.”

“Obviously I can since you showed,” you pointed out. “I need a favour.”

“You don’t do favours,” she said as she narrowed her eyes.

“I do now. I need you to leave him alone.”

Azrael looked at the comatose man before reaching forward and touching his forehead and shaking her head. “He’s one of ours, he has to come with me soon.”

“You have no sense of time, whatsoever. Soon could be 50 years from now.” You crossed your arms and stared the death angel down. “I’ll deny three souls in exchange for his life.”

“You’d turn down three deals for Jules? Who is he to you?”

“No one, but he means everything to someone else. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal, he has until I next come back down, no more.”

You nodded in agreement hoping her sporadic trips to earth erred on a lengthier time away this round. Unfurling her wings, you felt a pang of jealousy arise as you watched her fade away only to hear the strong beats of her wings carry her higher.

You aparated back to Charles and found him slumped in a leather reading chair, an album of photos open on his lap. Droplets splattered on plastic sleeves, only to smear into streaks as he wiped them away at your arrival.

“I bought him some time,” you said softly as you fell into the seat opposite him. “I can’t say how long because I don’t know but for now he will live.”

Charles dropped the book as he fell to his knees and clutched your hand tightly, the gesture making you uncomfortable. “Thank you,” he choked as his tears hit your knee through the rip in your skinny jeans and turned to steam. He didn’t seem to be affected by the heat radiating off you, he didn’t seem to feel it at all as he closed his eyes and rested his head on your joined hands. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, kid,” you said ruefully, pulling your hand back from the touch. “Healing was never my gift. He will have to do that on his own.”

“He will, I know he will,” Charles said with certainty as he rose to his feet. “He’s the strongest man that I know.”

You stood up with a nod and realised this year he was the same height as you, seeing eye to eye after his latest growth spurt.

“I hope you are right,” you said, feeling the floor start to give way beneath you as you willed yourself home. “Until next year, Birthday Boy.”

Charles’ nose wrinkled at the smell of sulphur filling the room and he stepped back at the sight of the black plume swirling around your boots. “You don’t have to wait a year, you can visit anytime.”

“Have you forgotten who I am?” you laughed as the smoke climbed higher.

“Just because you’re the devil, it doesn’t make you bad,” he said with a shy shrug. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

He was right in the fact you had been kind, something no one else would say about you. You couldn’t explain why you were different with him, why you couldn’t treat him like any other advantageous young man wanting to get ahead. There would surely be hell to pay if word ever got out about it.

The smoke reached your throat and pulled you down. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

16th October 2015 Charles would never know it but you had visited him throughout the year. You had kept to the shadows, watching from afar as he graduated to Formula 3 and came one step closer to reaching his dream. You were there by his side when he received the phone call that had devastated him, you had felt Azrael’s presence on the mortal plane and immediately went to him. You didn’t reveal yourself, not when the gut wrenching sound he made had you hate having fallen. You could offer him nothing so you remained hidden, torturing yourself with the knowledge of what could have been.

It was a little before midnight when you arrived at the busy nightclub. You should have just apparated into a bathroom stall but instead you had to produce a fake ID so the bouncer would let you in.

“Guess I can’t call you kid anymore,” you said as you found Charles in the VIP area and took a seat beside him. “Happy Birthday.”

“Who’s this angel, Charles?” his friend asked with a confident grin.

You tipped your head back with a laugh before you recovered enough to say, “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, but you call me D.”

Charles nearly choked on his drink at the snort he gave. “What are you doing here, D? I don’t remember inviting you.”

You leaned closer to see his cheeks flushed pink with the alcohol he was now legally allowed to imbibe in and whispered, “There’s only one place I need an invitation, and despite the name on the door outside - this isn’t Heaven.”

With a huff of annoyance he stood up and made his way out of the VIP area to the packed dance floor. Knowing everyone was completely inebriated you didn’t bother to follow him, instead you suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Leave me alone,” Charles growled as he turned his back, but everywhere he went you were in front of him.

Finally he gave up escaping and you shoved a hand on your hip as you asked, “What’s your problem?” 

“My problem? You lied to me, that’s what!” The drink in his hand spilled over the rim of the glass with the angry shaking overtaking his body. “Jules died…and you weren’t even there. You never visited me and…I needed you. I needed to know why!”

You took the glass from him and tipped the liquid back, relishing the burn of the alcohol down your throat as he stared daggers at you. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, mortal.”

“Well, we never made a deal, so there’s no need for you to be here, devil.”

The words hurt more than you cared to admit and the glass shattered in your hand, ichor flowing from the wounds before they could heal as quickly as they came. Charles' eyes widened at the dark liquid coating your palm and he almost looked worried for you but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were fixed on your heels, the shoes uncomfortable compared to the boots you normally wore but you had wanted to fit in. For him.

“You’re right,” you muttered as you freed your hair from the constricting hair tie and kicked the shoes off. There was nothing to be done about the tight red dress until you were home, but you would be there soon enough. “Goodbye, Charles.”

16th October 2016 Try as you might, you couldn’t stay away. Unbeknownst to Charles, you regularly checked in to see what his latest accomplishments were. As it was, he was leading the Formula 3 Championship and was a sure graduate to Formula 2. He raced like he had the devil breathing down his neck, pushing the boundaries to the brink of disaster.

Maybe he knew you hadn’t abandoned him, or maybe he just didn’t care. You knew you definitely shouldn’t have cared but still you watched him grow into a man and mature as his career evolved.

16th October 2017 You had nearly started another war the day Azrael came for Charles’ father. For three days you stood ready to fight the angel of death for Charles’ biggest supporter while he visited the hospital to say his goodbyes. He had lied to his father, telling Hervé that he had signed to a Formula 1 team for the next year and you promised to make it happen - with or without a soul to bargain.

It wasn’t a difficult task to achieve, a small incident with Pascal Wehrlein making a seat available in Sauber. All Charles had to do was keep his head in the game and go fast like he always did.

When you watched him celebrate his birthday his eyes had glanced around the room and you wondered if it was you he was looking for. It was only when those green eyes landed on a family photo you pushed the silly thought away, he was just missing his father.

16th October 2018 “How long have you been there?” Charles asked the empty room.

How he sensed your presence, you didn’t know, but since you no longer needed to hide it you let the shadows fall away. Turning away from where he had been styling his hair in the mirror, he leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

His room hadn’t changed all that much, Ferrari posters still covered the majority of the walls but they were also joined by some models posing on hoods of cars. The twin bed had been upgraded to a double and was covered in a red and yellow bedspread that clashed with your trademark black outfit as you lay across it.

“How often do you do that?”

“Do what?” you asked innocently as you stared at his ceiling and not his narrowed eyes.

He waved a hand over your leisurely state. “This.”

You got off the bed and stalked across the room to the Formula 1 racer and found you had to look up at him even with the heels on your boots. “Don’t mortals leave home by now? I thought the 21st birthday was some big right of passage.”

You reached for the tub of hair product and sniffed at the vanilla scent before it was swiped from your hand. It smelled edible and there was another scent that was just as good but you weren’t sure what it was or where it was coming from until you leaned closer to him and inhaled.

“I just bought an apartment but it’s not ready for me to move into for a few more weeks. Will you stop that?”

“What is that smell?” Your head was swimming as if you were high but that wasn’t possible. “My head…”

You could barely stand upright as you felt drunk all of a sudden and Charles caught you as you stumbled back. “Sit down,” he said softly as he guided you to the edge of his bed. “Why did you come back?”

Your head lolled onto his shoulder and the room spun as the truth tumbled from your lips. “I never left you,” you admitted, your words slurring as the intoxicating smell left you dazed. “Not when Jules died…or your father, never…”

Charles frowned as your eyes closed and you fell back on his bed. He had spent so long blaming you, being angry at you, believing you had abandoned him when he needed you most but as you murmured in your strange state he realised he had it all wrong. 

“D?” he called out as he shook your shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You tried to open your eyes but they were too heavy and you curled into a ball as your stomach churned. “Because I shouldn’t care. You’re just a human.”

“But you do care,” he surmised as he grabbed the blanket and draped it over your shivering body. 

“Devils don’t care.” You could hardly talk through your chattering teeth, the blanket doing nothing to warm the ice that had seeped into your being.

Charles curled himself up against your back and tightened his arms around the blanket as he tried to warm you. Nothing seemed to work until his voice spoke softly in your ear, “Then maybe you’re not like the others.” 

The silence grew and he thought you had passed out when you muttered, “I had nowhere else to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a war…couldn’t choose a side…threw me out.” A yawn silenced your words and you snuggled into his arms, your nose finding that delicious scent strongest on his neck where you nuzzled deeper.

“My cologne,” Charles whispered and you realised you had asked aloud what it was. “You’re like a cat high on catnip.”

“Haven’t been high since I had wings.” You giggled, a sound so unlike you, but it turned to a sad sigh. “I miss my wings.”

Charles brushed your hair back from your face but you didn’t have the strength to open your eyes. “What colour were they?”

“There isn’t a colour to describe them. But you can see it at dawn…look to the east…the last star in the morning sky.”

“The Morningstar?” Charles looked down to see your lips parted with a soft snore and reached into his pocket for his phone. There was no way he was going to leave you in the state you were in, not even for his own birthday party.

16th October 2019 You had thought Azrael had forgotten the deal you made but she made sure to remind you of it when she crossed paths with you at the Belgium GP. Charles’ head had snapped your way the moment he heard the crash and you shook your head sadly. The only reassurance you could give him was that the young driver’s soul was at peace. 

Before leaving with her precious cargo, Azrael had given you two months to keep your end of the bargain and you didn’t want to test her patience. The crossroads had been quiet and it took nearly the whole time to find three souls worthy of denying a deal, most people who offered their souls for their greatest desires deserved the eternal damnation in return.

As soon as your task was fulfilled you returned to Charles, to the only place you felt at home. After waking in his arms a year ago you had struggled with the duties expected of you, finding more and more excuses for the downturn in deals. After waking in his arms, you wanted to be more than what you were. You wanted to believe you could be more, like he believed in you. 

“D,” Pierre greeted as he joined you at the bar. “Still looking as lovely as ever.”

“Still the charmer.” 

His attempt to shift closer to your side was blocked by the heat radiating from you and he pulled back with a frown, brushing the oddity off in his tipsy state. “Where have you been?”

“Here, there, everywhere,” you answered absentmindedly as you felt Charles’ presence before you spotted him. “I travel for work.”

“Let me guess - modelling?”

“Dealing.”

“No way!” His eyebrow shot up and he leaned in to whisper, “Drugs?”

“Not quite,” you said with a laugh. “Something far more lucrative.”

Charles’ hand came to rest on the small of your back and his lips brushed your cheek. “Sorry I’m late, ma diablesse. What are you drinking?”

“I could do with a-” your voice trailed off as a fissure ran through the air and you turned to see what had just walked in the door. “Hold that thought.”

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked but you were already weaving your way through the crowd. 

Waves of power rolled off the beast but no one would see the tusks spearing out of its face or the black soulless eyes, they would merely see a mountain of a man and a vibe that warned them to move aside. 

“This is a bit out of your territory, Fowler. What are you doing topside?”

The demon looked over your shoulder and smirked. “Heard some interesting rumours.”

“And what rumours were those?”

“That some darling angel was caught up with a mortal, helping out for free. You know the rules. No soul, no deal.” Fowler’s hand snapped out and caught your throat, his claws threatening to tear it out. “Don’t forget who took you in when your family threw you out.”

“Fuck you, I’ve more than paid my debt,” you spat as you grabbed his wrist and seared his skin with the lick of your flames. “Don’t come and threaten me.”

“I don’t have to threaten you,” he chuckled as he cradled his hand to his chest and looked past you to where Charles was pushing his way to your side. “Mortals are so weak, a little accident is all it takes.”

There was no way you could let Fowler return to Hell with the information he had, your weakness, so you did the only thing you could to protect Charles. You rushed the demon as the ground opened, disappearing into the pit with him before Charles could follow. You called all of your power and funnelled it into your fire, pouring it down the demon's throat until he was smothered by the flames and a smoking husk that turned to ash as you crashed to the ground. 

“Morningstar, what is the meaning of this?” 

You bowed to Beelzebub before kicking away the ash that had settled on your boot and painted a dark smile onto your face. “He interrupted a deal, I couldn’t let that grievance go unpunished. Or did you want me to forgive him?” You challenged him with an arch of your brow until he huffed a sigh and waved the question away with the whip of his tail. 

“So where is the contract for the soul?”

“Did you miss the part where I said he interrupted the deal?”

“I’m not sure if I liked you less as an angel or not,” he uttered from his throne of skulls. 

“I have that effect.” You started to leave the way you came but a chain snared around your ankle and locked into place before you could escape. 

“Not so fast.” You were thrown onto your ass as he yanked the chain and dragged you to the foot of his throne. “I find myself short of an enforcer,” he said as he looked pointedly at the pile of ash you had created.

“So find another,” you growled as you tried to melt the chain but it merely absorbed the heat you poured onto it, “there’s no shortage of brainless fools ready to serve you.”

“But look how that ended,” he laughed. “How about a deal? Ten years as my enforcer for your freedom.”

Freedom. Ten years was nothing, just a blip to an immortal, but you weren’t thinking of yourself. You were thinking what ten years would be for Charles. Would he have a wife and kids? Would he have won his world championship? Would he remember you?

“Two,” you countered.

“Five.”

“Deal, but on one condition.” You stopped fighting the chain and rose to your knees. “I want a soul.”

16th October 2024 You were beyond exhausted when you stumbled into the bedroom, using the last of your strength to find your way back to him. The last five years had been brutal and it was a miracle that you had survived to complete your end of the deal, much to Beelzebub’s chagrin. The bastard had thrown every impossible task your way but you had something he could never understand, hope. And it kept you fighting to the bitter end. 

You crashed onto the bed as your legs gave out and he leapt up at the intrusion, the bedside lamp lighting up and illuminating his silhouette as he stared at you wide eyed. “Ma diablesse? You came back…”

“Always, Birthday Boy.” You reached for him, needing to feel him with your own two hands after missing him for five years. It was his face that had kept you alive and you cupped his jaw to pull him closer only to freeze at what you felt. “Charles?”

“What? What is it?” he asked with panic as he placed his hands over yours, holding them tight to his cheeks.

“You have a beard,” you whispered, turning his face to the side to see the styled hair on his jaw. “When did that happen?”

Charles laughed and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck as he crushed you against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I would have been back sooner but I made a deal with the devil.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out an unassuming medallion. “A soul, my soul.”

Charles frowned in confusion as he trailed a finger over the symbols of an ancient language long forgotten. “What do you mean?”

“No more devil deals, if you’ll have me, I would be human.”

Shock rippled through his features. “You would give up immortality for me?”

“Hell is an eternity without you,” you said before you pressed your forehead to his, sharing his breath of life. “And if I never make it back to Heaven at least I will have had a moment of it here with you.”

Bonus scene here.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 10. Keeping Tabs

A little study time (well, an attempt at it) with Bodhi one night in the quadrant in the lead up to Presentation Day.

Set Pre Fourth Wing/Books

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

As per usual the library is quiet as hell. The only noise is the crackling of the fire next to me. It wasn’t quite cold enough for a fire, but the temperature had definitely dropped in the last few weeks as we’d entered September and I welcomed any chance to sit by a fire. It was one of the few things that had brought me comfort back in my room.

Most winter nights I would sit in the chair by the fire in my room reading. Something I had missed due to leaving all my books behind when I’d come here. And sadly the small library in the riders quadrant and the scribes only had historical texts. Something I really needed to change as soon as possible if I could. I’d even debated sneaking back to my room to grab some of them, but knowing my father my stuff was long gone.

The door to the library bangs open, followed my some muffled curses as I am pulled from my thoughts. As I scan the bookshelves behind me, I note the footsteps getting closer and closer to where I sit in front of the fire. A few moments later the familiar curly black hair of Bodhi peeks around the edge of one of the bookshelves, a grin forming on his face as his eyes meet mine.

”Knew I would find you here.” He says excitedly as he steps around the bookshelf heading over to me.

”Don’t you usually go to the gym with your two shadows on Wednesday nights?” I ask as I return to my book as Bodhi starts pulling out his from his pack as he sits next to me. ”Watch out Dahlia, someone might think you actually care.” He teases before I throw my pot of ink at him, which he catches easily. Lucky for him it was closed. ”I don’t care.” I say with a smirk as I look up at him.

Over the last few weeks Bodhi had wormed his way through my walls, and I actually did consider him a friend along with Austin and Liz. Between having all our classes together and training together a few days a week after classes, we’d easily fallen into our own little friendship group. Something I had told myself I wouldn’t do and wouldn’t need to get through the quadrant. Something I hadn’t had since that day my mother had died. But here I was two months later, and I couldn’t deny I enjoyed having friends again after all these years. ”You sure? Seems like you’re keeping tabs on me. Or maybe you’re keeping tabs on someone else?” He mocks as he wiggles his eyebrows at me, handing the pot of ink out to me. ”I promise you, I am not keeping tabs on anyone. You three aren’t exactly hard to spot wandering around the Quadrant. Especially with that giant lumbering oaf walking around with you.” I throw back as I take the pot of ink from him. Bodhi just sighs and shakes his head at me. It wasn’t the first time I’d made a stab at Garrick. He’d barely said more than a few words to me since that first round of challenges where I had very much proven him wrong. Something I knew infuriated him. Here and there he’d made jabs at me before I walked onto the mat, or when I’d come to grab Bodhi for training. All of which I had ignored. If he wanted to hate me for my name, then so be it. I wasn’t going to bend over backwards to prove him wrong. I knew my name came with a reputation, as did his. But clearly he didn’t want to overlook it. Bodhi had tried to convince me a few times to give him a chance.

”He’s really not that bad Dahlia.” Trying yet again to convince me to give Garrick a chance. ”Well he has done little to prove otherwise. So unless he wants to pull his head out of his ass, then I will continue to call him whatever comes to mind.” I tell him sternly before turning back to my book.

”You did well on the Gauntlet today.” He says, changing the subject with ease, clearly getting the hint I did not want to talk about Garrick. ”Barely. I fumbled on those damn balls again.” I say as I recall the moment my heart had dropped when I’d nearly lost my grip on one of the balls today. ”And yet you still had the fastest time today. You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Easier said than done. Despite Bodhi getting through the walls I’d built up over the years, I hadn’t told him what had happened all those years ago. Why I was the way I was. And why failure was not an option for me. Any slip up was a failure in my fathers eyes, and I prayed no word got back to him today of my slip up. As much as his opinion didn’t matter to me, I wanted to prove him wrong. ”You know I can’t do that.” I say back in what I hope passes as a joking tone. I breathe a sigh of relief when Bodhi shakes his head and laughs at me. “Oh trust me I know. One day you wont though. I’ll make sure of it.”

I can’t help but feel emotional at Bodhi’s words. Just like Garrick he should hate me. Despise me for my father and what he had done. But he didn’t. Since he’d stood next to me in the Rotunda, he had looked right through that. Been able to accept me as someone besides the weight of my last time. Hell even Xaden had somehow. Though it still felt like he was a little cautious of me at times, but I put that mostly down to Garrick who was always by his side. ”Let’s get through Presentation Day and hopefully Threshing first, then you can work on that.”

Presentation day was only two days away. Meaning we were four away from Threshing. Just four more days and I would hopefully bond a dragon. Bond a dragon and become a rider like I always wanted. The last time I had been close to a dragon was that day. Father now allowing me anywhere near one since then. Would I panic and run like I should have done immediately that day? Or even worse, would I meet the fate that was nearly my own that day? No. I would bond a dragon. I would do it.

”I feel like getting you to be not so hard on yourself is going to be easier than that.” He says with a sigh before leaning back in his chair and staring at the roof. “You scared?”

I close my book, finally giving up on studying now Bodhi was here. Which was a regular occurrence if he found me. “You’re probably expecting me to say no, but honestly I’m scared shitless.”

Which I was. Mixed with not knowing how I would react, I was also terrified I would come face to face with a dragon and panic. Become frozen to the ground with fear and become a pile of ash on the floor just like….

”You’re right.” Bodhi says cutting my thoughts off. “Nothing seems to phase you. But I’d probably think you weren’t human if you weren’t scared of facing off with a dragon.”

If only you knew Bodhi.

”What colour do you think you’ll bond?” I ask as I try steer the conversation away from facing a dragon.

”I don’t know. Never really thought about it I guess. I seem to be drawn to Green Dragons whenever Kaori talks about them. What about you?”

”Blue.” I say without missing a beat causing Bodhi to glance over at me. “I’ve always been drawn to Blue Dragons. But they’re incredibly rare to bond with.”

”Xaden said he was the first one in a few years to bond a Blue and the only one in his year as well.”

I nod in agreement. They were very hard to bond with. Blue Dragons had the highest fatality rate for cadets during Threshing. Even Kaori had advised us to run instead of try bonding a blue. Meaning if I wanted to bond a Blue, I needed to be certain of the one I approached.

”Well here’s hoping we bond the colours we want and come out victorious in a few days time.” I say as I look over at Bodhi who is already smiling at me.

”Don’t worry, we will Dahlia.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94

[skellyflowers]

Doodles

The manor only has two types of weather. Rain and fog, sometimes both at the same time. It makes the place really cozy. It's pretty normal for us to light the fireplace and make a blanket fort. But today is a little different. 

Today Vessel and II are in the study, they have been in there all day. Vessel and II have been composing music for a few days now. III is getting a new Bass so he is also gone. That just leaves me and IV in the library.

I wasn’t really reading the book in my hands. More so looking at the pictures in the book. The book is an antique medieval bestiary. I can't really read the words but I really liked seeing what people back then believed that animals looked like.

IV had been quiet the whole time. That was pretty normal for him. IV and II are the quieter of my boyfriends so I didn’t think too much of it. However, he was sitting in the window seat while I was on the oversized armchair. The chair that is big enough to fit both Vessel and III comfortably. That was odd. All of them are pretty cuddly so the fact that he hasn’t even tried to sit with me is strange.

I look over and see he has a notebook with him. He has been looking between the book and myself for a while. I wonder what he is doing. I stand up and walk over to the window  and attempt to look over his shoulder.

“Hey! What are you doing?” He asked. Pulling the notebook to his chest.

“I just want to see what you're doing.” I say, trying to look around him. “Let me see.”

“No. don’t worry about it.”

“Come on Ivy, Pleasssse.” I give him my best puppy eyes.

“It’s nothing Dove. You would think it’s boring.”

I huff at him and climb into IV’s lap. He gets a little wide eyed. Clearly not expecting my next move. I cup his face so he maintains eye contact. One of his hands is on my hip.

“Nothing you do is boring.” I say. “You’re one of the most interesting people I know.”

I put our foreheads together and hold eye contact. I kiss his forehead, his cheeks, nose and chin. I wait a moment before kissing his lips. The hand of my hip grips me and his other hand crawls up my back.

“Can I see it now?” I ask, hoping he agrees.

“Sure” IV has a dazed look on his face from all the kisses.

I carefully pick up the notebook and look at what is inside. IV hides his face in my neck. The notebook is grid paper and full of little pictures. I didn’t know that IV liked to draw. In the book are drawings of flowers, cats and some little nick-nacks I have seen around the manor. As I turn the pages I see that IV also has done some anatomy. There are pen and ink sketches of hands, potentially Vessel’s. 

I flipped through the pages and saw the people he had chosen to draw. Some of them I recognize like Adam. I see drawings of Vessel and II. There is one rough sketch of III. On the next page is a drawing of me! 

So this is what he was doing! The drawing is of me reading that old book. I try to look at him but when I turn my head IV buries himself in my neck.

“Look at me Ivy.” I say.

Slowly he backs away from me. 

“You have any other hidden talents I should know about?”

“You like them?”

“Of course I do! These are really good!”

“Thank you.” he smiles finally. “I wanted to do a good job. You and III are hard to draw.”

“What does that mean?” The comment makes me a little annoyed.

“You and III are always in motion. Makes it hard. Ves and II can really sit like statues.”

“Do the others know?”

“I have only told Vessel.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you.” he puts his hand on my face and lets it slide to my neck. “Get back down here and kiss me again.”

[heysawbones]

Earlier today, I asked Google about removing the ink from a gel pen cartridge. Google thought I meant, “how do you revive a dead gel pen?” No. See. Sometimes, when you’re using gel pens in ways they were never meant to be used, you find the ballpoint inadequate. In my case, it was too big to get into tight spots on the doll shoe I was detailing. Gel ink is water soluble. You should be able to paint with it. Right?

But how do you get it out? Is the coverage okay? Folks,

the coverage is excellent.

You can learn how to free the gel ink from its tiny prison, plus the pros and cons below the cut.

Here’s the tools I used, except the hobby/model drill. That turned out to be unnecessary. A syringe, some kind of needle OR stiff catheter of similar dimensions, and scissors will do the trick.

I cut the pen above the stopper and below the ink/air bubble. If a gel pen is old enough or you have enough patience, sometimes you can wiggle the stopper out of the bottom of a gel pen instead. If that’s an option, I’d recommend it for reasons I’ll touch on later.

The tip of a Sakura Gellyroll has two notches in the plastic where the ballpoint head is seated in the grip. I used the eye end of a fat yarn needle to wedge into that notch and loosen the tip and cartridge until I could remove them from the grip. I think you could get away without removing the tip and cartridge, but I found it easier/neater to do it this way.

This shows where I cut into the cartridge: between the end of the air bubble, and the end of the ink. The more ink your pen has, the smaller - and possibly harder to identify - this area is.

Unfortunately, my syringe was not made to be used with a needle. To compensate, I used sticky-tac to cover any air gaps - vacuum is essential to a syringe. I used artist’s tape on top of that to stabilize the connection. You probably don’t need to do this, but if you do, there you go. I bet heavily chewed bubblegum would work, too. Or clay. Or lots of things.

I really didn’t think this would work, due to bad luck with past attempts. It does work.

Here, I’m using a kolinsky sable to pick up the ink but any pointed brush meant for acrylic, watercolor, or ink should do the trick.

THE OPACITY. THE PIGMENT LOAD. THE ABILITY TO DETAIL TINY AREAS

—

PROS.

-Incredibly opaque for something water-soluble and relatively low viscosity

-high pigment load

-very smooth finish

-accessible

CONS.

-If you bought gel pens with the intent of breaking them open for the beautiful ink inside, it would be expensive - especially for decent ink like Gellyroll

-Coverage is not as even with brush as it is with rollerball. This is easy to get around, but noticeable. Build up the coat until it’s opaque and smooth. Do not allow it to dry between coats. Once you’re done, put the item away to dry for as long as you can stand. DO NOT APPLY TOP COAT BY BRUSH

-Slow-drying on many surfaces if applied heavily enough for a smooth finish, but concerningly fast-drying in the syringe. It’s also unclear if recapping the original pen and sealing the cut end will preserve the ink, or if gel ink harvesting is a one-and-done where you will need to take all you can at one time, then store it in an airtight container. I’ve stuffed the cut end of my cartridge with sticky tac and put the cartridge back in the grip/recapped the pen, but it remains to be seen if this is sufficient for storage.

-Your gel pen will never be the same again: even if the ink can be preserved in the original cartridge, breaking the vacuum causes the ink to blob out of the roller ball. There’s a real possibility that this will just leak everywhere out both ends, which is why I recommend preserving the stopper at the bottom of the grip if plausible.

CONS 2,

continued (of detailing models, etc. with gel ink generally, not specifically the brush application thereof)

- Gel ink requires a porous surface. Do not expect to put pen to plastic without primer or Mr. Super Clear. The ink will consolidate centrally (proximal to heaviest application), gapping away from edges.

-Slow-drying: this takes forever, and it is easy to ruin a finish in the meantime.

—Durability: essentially none. Wait at least a few hours after you think the gel is dry, then apply a clear coat. SPRAY ONLY. Do NOT go back over it with a wet brush, as you risk reactivating the ink and ruining all your hard work. Spray works because it is ruining the finish evenly, and therefore, not at all. Wait and then apply the top coat again. These top coats will be your durability.

[littledollll]

Blank canvas

Lucifer Morningstar x reader

A/n: this idea was haunting me for weeks before I even posted about it and now here we are.

Big thanks to @pebbleswritessometimes for being with me through the whole writing process (like basically always I just b forgetting to tag this hoe) and @v3nusxsky for also helping out and naming the fic!

Warnings: tattoos/aftercare, shower sex, multiple orgasms, rly soft Lucifer, lots of praise.

___________________________________

It was a few years into your relationship that you thought about getting a new tattoo. Something that symbolized, showing their mark on you. Yet you didn’t actually follow through until well- today.

Early in the morning you came up with some excuse to go to the mortal realm. And since Lucifer never questioned you or your work, you got away quite easily without suspicion. The appointment had been set up for weeks, after years and years of considering and thinking it over you decided you wanted this etched permanently into your skin, for the rest of your immortal life alongside them.

You were away for most of the day, which again, they didn’t question. Because you wanted to finish the piece in one day. Knowing Lucifer wasn’t quite capable of keeping their hands to themselves for too long, and let’s be fair, neither were you. This was a surprise, and you sure as well didn’t want them to just see a half finished piece over the length of your back.

When you came back at the end of the day, they were more than overjoyed to see you. Immediately welcoming you with wandering hands and more than a few kisses. “What’d you do all day, hm? Have fun abandoning me?” You giggled at their questions as you parted from them and took their hands.

“Wanna take a shower with me?” Only a fool would refuse that offer. It seemed like logic to Lucifer that you didn’t even have to ask. “Oh? Did you miss me all day?” They said in an amused tone, and you only looked back at them with a face that told them you had a secret. “I see how it is.”

Lucifer followed you in, watching you closely as you made a point to undress facing them, they couldn’t see, not yet. “Are you gonna go in dressed or something?” You teased, seeing as they were observing you instead of getting ready themselves. “I’m trying to see what you’re plotting.” They seemed dead serious on figuring it out, like some sort of game they had to win. Ever the competitive devil.

“You think you’ll be able to read my mind if you stare at me long enough?”

“Perhaps.”

A short answer before they reluctantly started undressing themselves, having to break their view from you. Taking the chance, you almost ran into the shower, just making them more suspicious of you.

They joined you a few moments later, their hands gently placed on your hips as they looked you up and down. “You haven’t turned your back on me since you undressed.” Their tone dripping with pride, like they’ve just done their best detective work.

“Ohh good job, Detective, you have a great eye.” Your sass was clearly not welcome as they attempted to decipher what you were hiding, giving you a playful glare.

“Okay okay. You’ve gotta help me with something.” As you turned around they caught sight of the fresh saniderm bandage and the bit of ink that had released into it, not making the tattoo clear enough.

“Ah. New tattoo?.. why all the secrecy for that, my love?” They asked softly, adjusting the water to fall perfectly over your back as they gently started removing the bandage. “You’ll see.”

And see they did. They were quiet for a moment as they observed the fine-line piece. The outline of the sun, serving as some sort of heading, or halo for a simple yet beautifully drawn serpent below it. It was quite big, starting at the height of your shoulders plates down to your lower back.

Their hands gently trailed down the sides of it, not wanting to touch in case you were feeling sore. The silence was starting to worry you, and you looked over your shoulder to see what their reaction was.

You were quite pleased to see them admiring it, a soft smile on their face. Such a simple thing felt so intimate in that moment. “..you got this, for me?” the question seemed almost unsure. Their voice low and quiet as they continued to inspect it like it was the most complex piece of art they’ve ever seen, when the design was rather simple.

A simple nod was all they received and you swear you heard a whimper slip past their lips. “Can I- do you want me to help you clean it..?” It was rare to hear Lucifer be shy of all things. You, of course got it with the idea that they’d love it, but this is not the reaction you expected from them.

It felt endearing to see them be so affected by it. “That would actually be very helpful. Thank you, Luce.” They nodded. Gently, they lathered their hands in soap, opting to use just one to rub gently over the tattoo, making sure to leave it perfectly clean. You hissed, feeling a little soreness but it was quickly replaced by the feeling of their free hand inching towards your inner thighs.

They hummed, pressing themselves against your back, the other hand coming to wrap around your waist. Effectively covering you from the shower, then you felt water dripped from their hair down your shoulders. “Is this okay too?” The feeling of their breath on the back of your ear made your knees weak. The feeling only being worsened as two fingers slowly started thrusting into you and you scrambled to find some support against the shower walls.

Your shaky legs couldn’t handle your own weight with all the pleasure you were receiving. But thankfully you were saved by Lucifer’s thigh being pushed between your thighs, giving you a little more stability as the palm of their hand continued rubbing your sensitive clit. “please-“

Lucifer cut your words short with their own. “I think it’s only fair I reward you for this precious gift… don’t you?”

And who were you to deem them wrong? “Y-yes.. yes, please-“ Your moans served as encouragement as they another finger and slowly picked up their pace.

Lucifer felt as your thighs tensed up, queuing them to hold onto your shaking body just a little tighter as you released around their hand with a breathy moan.

Their hold on your waist was gone for only a second as they turned the temperature of the water cold, feeling suffocated in the heat of their own body.

You didn’t know if you were hot or freezing anymore, the cold water contrasting the burning sensation of your body and theirs. Heat burned in your stomach and between your thighs as you felt the rush of freezing cold water running down your back, and pebbling down your hard nipples. It made your whole body shiver as you needily began grinding against Lucifer’s hand.

That very same hand pushed carefully on your lower back, leading you to lean a little forward against the wall. “Good.. perfect. Now I can keep looking at your beautiful back and stunning tattoo.” They murmured, placing soft kisses over the back of your neck and wherever they could reach of your back.

“Spread your legs a little more for me baby.. don’t worry. I won’t let go of you.”

They didn’t give you a chance to breathe after that as they simply picked up the pace once again responding to your needy grinding and effectively turning you into a whining, withering mess in their hands.

“You’re perfect. So perfect, my darling.” Their voice was breathy now as they took their time, switching between running two fingers down your slit and toying with that pulsing bundle of nerves and using those same two fingers to fuck you to oblivion.

Lucifer kept you pressed against the shower wall, your nipples rubbing against the cold tiles whenever they pounded into you, only giving you the illusion of a break when they went back to circling your clit, practically bathing in the sweet sounds of your broken moans.

“I love it, sweet one… who knew you could be even prettier, hm?” They muttered, clearly still hung up on admiring your new tattoo.

You felt delirious. Quickly tumbling over that delightful edge again as Lucifer slowed down for once, keeping their focus on your clit. Your cheek was helplessly pressed against the cold tile as you panted to catch your breath, which was difficult considering Lucifer refused to stop their ministrations any time soon. “Luce..”

“Give me one more, angel.. just like this, just one more.”

Apparently it wasn’t enough that you felt weak enough to turn to mush, or that you quite literally couldn’t stand anymore and they were the only thing standing between you and the hard tile. Clearly your shaking body was no sign of stopping for your devil.

Your eyes slipped shut as curses and cries continued tumbling from your lips. Somehow the slow, almost gentle pace felt much more effective than the previous harsh one. Perhaps it was the overstimulation. No, it clearly was. Your mind was simply not functioning enough at that point to think about the most logical reason why everything felt ten times better, or why every drop of water against your skin made your whole body want to tumble over the edge.

It didn’t take long, of course. Not with their warm skin wrapping and pressing against you, contrasting the cold water. Not with their delightfully long fingers thrusting into you. Certainly not with the palm of their hand rubbing your sensitive clit.

Slowly, they worked you down from your high. Switching from a slower pace to just a sweet and gentle caress, before both arms wrapped around your body and they held you close, pressing your back against them. You could vaguely tell Lucifer’s tone was one of praise as they whispered against your ear. But in all reality you had no idea what they were saying.

You simply relished in their gentle hold, providing you much needed support. Almost sure you’d crumble into nothing if your lover let you go.

You’re not exactly sure how long you stood under the running shower, wrapped in their arms with their face nuzzled sweetly against the crook of your neck. This wasn’t the outcome you had planned, but one things for sure. This was definitely not going to be the last tattoo you got for your loving devil.