#i have to go to town soon tho Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[majimassqueaktoy]

God I need to finish this game so I can go watch the Baba cutscenes and be adequately as deranged as the universe wanted me to be before rgg ruined my plans

[pumpkinwastaken]

[alittleemo]

final update of the day

pros; got to finish my book (joy luck club), and movie (love simon) on the flight, gf meals they gave me were actually good, PIZZA I COULD EAT !!!!!!!, did some sketching, and wrote a LOT for my challengers fic

neg; lost my cookies i got in the airport AND the little snack they gave me </3, my dog fell off the counter and lost a tooth, watched a huge fight in the customs line, and my sisters suitcase was left in france

[norrisainz33]

European getaway || cs55

☆ summary: y/n goes on a vacation to spain and ends up meeting carlos sainz by chance. tho she has no idea her european fling is actually a very successful f1 driver

☆ pairing: carlos sainz x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes! thank you sm for this wonderful request

pt. 2

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by yourbff, yoursibling, friend2, friend 3 and 101 others

ynuser: i could get used to this! me encanta espana

view all 8 comments

yourbff: petition for us to stay in spain forever

ynuser: time to find our spanish husbands so we never have to leave!

yoursibling: europe looks good on u

ynuser: thanks b 💅🏻

friend3: always serving fits girl

ynuser: half of my clothes are stolen from you

friend2: obsessed with you

ynuser: obsessed with you bb

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

[1. girls night out ahead. 2. guys i met a hot man at this club. 3. hehe he’s taking me home. we stayed out so late it’s almost light again]

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yourbff: we look cute

yourbff: wait he’s hotter than i originally thought hold up 🤤🤤

yourbff: did you even get his name???? how am i supposed to make sure ur safe if i don’t know his name

ynuser: dude he’s so hot it’s insane and his name is carlos

ynuser: i’m with him at his hotel rn and this man has to be loaded this is the nicest hotel i’ve ever stepped foot in.

yourbff: hot AND rich AND sweet AND a gentleman???????? what is in the water here in spain

ynuser: i just googled his watch that he’s wearing and it’s $300k

yourbff: ok tea……y/n/n i’m so serious you are living every girls dream rn including mine

ynuser: i think i love him

yourbff: ok , maybe it’s time for you to come back to the hotel and get some sleep

ynuser: ugh you’re so right.

ynuser: he called me a driver , i’ll be back soon

yourbff: PLEASE TELL ME TOU GOT HIS NUMBER

ynuser: more than that 🤭 him and his friend are going to take us out for dinner tomorrow and show us around town 😫😍🫶🏻

yourbff: OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

yoursibling: girl you wildin and i love it. stay safe pls

ynuser: yes of course bb

friend3: why that man kinda look familiar

ynuser: if u figure it out lmk

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

[1. sightseeing courtesy of our new friend carlos. 3. looks like we found ourselves some dates 😉]

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friend2: y/n are you sharing churros con chocolate with a MAN

ynuser: YES

ynuser: i’ve been caught

friend2: you sneak.. i need every single detail

yourbff: i feel like we are in a movie for real

ynuser: i think we might be

yoursibling: how is it that you and y/bff/n always end up in these sorts of romance novel type situations

ynuser: it’s bc we are the it girls 💅🏻

carlossainz55 had added to his story

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user1: what are you doing in madrid carlos

user2: OMG WHO IS THAT IN THE SECOND SLIDE CARLOSSSSS

landonorris: and what do we have here 👀

carlossainz55: just some travels in spain!

landonorris: with a girl??

carlossainz55: good catch 😉

landonorris: DETAILS?!

carlossainz55: if you must know and you promise to keep it secret

landonorris: of course mate

carlossainz55: i met this gorgeous girl in a club in barcelona and we hit it off. she doesn’t know im a driver she just thinks im a guy on holiday and its been rather refreshing so now im showing her around spain

landonorris: i support you in this brother but you know you’re gonna have to explain the whole famous thing at some point

carlossainz55: i know i know

user3: just fell to my knees is this a soft launch

charlesleclerc: enjoying break i see 😏

carlossainz55: yes i am 😏

user4: everyone stay calm!!!! stay CALM

user5: so little info here how am i supposed to find this girl by her shoes 🫣

user6: can’t wait till f1gossip sees this

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

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yoursibling: hold up did HE COME WITJ YOU GUYS

ynuser: yes 🤭

ynuser: when i tell you i think i met the love of my life

yoursibling: ugh i’m so jealous but also so happy for you!! you deserve this

friend2: bruh he’s fine as heck what is going on here

ynuser: no i know

yourbff: wait send me the pic of carlos and teto carrying our luggage pls im begging

ynuser: done and done

friend3: y/n y/m/n y/l/n have you ever seen a formula 1 race before

ynuser: you mean like the race cars?

friend3: yes the race cars!!!! i’m 99.9% sure that man in your photos drives for the FERRARI F1 TEAM. THAT IS THE CARLOS SAINZ

ynuser: oh my god… you’re right …….. he’s a FAMOUS FERRARI DRIVER?!

ynuser: oh my god he has 10 million followers

friend3: how did you NOT know this!!!!!!!!

ynuser: idk!!! i don’t follow f1!!!

friend3: well now you legally have to

ynuser: clearly omg

friend3: YOURE THE GIRL IN HIS STORY OFNEKGN

ynuser: OMG I AM

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, and 4,255 others

f1gossip: carlos sainz has been spotted getting cozy with a mystery girl in madrid! we think this has got to be the girl who was in the story carlos posted a few days ago. they’ve also been spotted out at dinner with another woman and who we believe to be teto!! no information on who they are just yet but seem by all accounts to not be anyone we know

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user1: when will it be my turn!!!!

user2: that should be me 😭😭😭 happy for her i guess 😭😭😫😫

user3: so he was soft launching someone

user4: happy for him ig

friend3: ynuser girl

ynuser: oh my god

friend2: girl oh my god

yourbff: omg stop ???? is this movie about us???

user6: do you all know something we don’t

user3: no bc your profile pics kinda be similar to the girl in the pics f1 gossip posted 👀

user6: carlos doesn’t follow them yet but maybe that’ll change

user3: WAIT IT SAYS HES FOLLOWING YNUSER NOW

user5: i am so envious

ynuser has added to their story 🔒

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friend3: ok so the fan girls have found us it seems

ynuser: they really have… i have 2,694 follower requests right now

yourbff: the f1gossip account is trying to contact me,, they’re literally in my dms rn…. you look hot tho 😘😍😫

ynuser: they’re also trying to message me too. never thought our trip to spain would end up like this (i’m not complaining this is just a little overwhelming)

yourbff: me neither but if it had to happen i’m glad you met carlos!! you two seem like genuinely really well matched. i know it’s only been like…. 3 weeks but im stanning and shipping y/ncarlos so hard

ynuser: 😮‍💨😭 y/ncarlos omg stop hahaha

ynuser: i’m planning to put him in my pocket and take him back to the states with us

carlossainz55: ay dios mío hermosa chica 😍😍

ynuser: 🤭 you’re making me blush

carlossainz55: good, it’s cute when you blush

ynuser: you really have 10 million followers and drive for the scuderia ferrari huh

carlossainz55: yes mi amor. im sorry for not telling you sooner… i just really was enjoying getting to know you as just carlos and not as the ferrari driver

ynuser: and that makes sense i just … this is all just a bit intimidating

carlossainz55: no reason to be intimidated, i’m still just carlos 🥺

ynuser: if you say so

carlossainz55: i do say so hermosa🤍

carlossainz55: now that the cat is out of the bag…. do you want to come watch me race?

ynuser: you want me to come to one of your races?

carlossainz55: only if you want to! no pressure at all tho y/n/n

ynuser: i’d love to 😫

carlossainz55: i was hoping you’d say that. i’ll make arrangements for you to come to monza 😉

ynuser: italy?! omg i’ve never been to italy!!!!

carlossainz55: never?! oh boy then i have quite the time planned for us

landonorris: i feel like an elite member of a very exclusive club for being able to follow

ynuser: you are!! only 231 other people have the privilege

friend2: please send lando norris my number i see he’s following you now

ynuser: HAHAHAAH i respect the hustle. i tell him about you when i meet him in person in 2 weeks

friend2: IN PWROSN Y/N WHAT

yoursibling: bestie why are race car fan accounts trying to contact me all the sudden

ynuser: so you know that man i’ve been seeing while in spain with y/bff/n? turns out he’s a very famous formula 1 driver

yoursibling: you’ve got to be kidding me

ynuser: i am being very for real

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by carlossainz55, yourbff, yoursibling, friend2, landonorris, friend3, and 102 others

ynuser: thank you to spain for literally changing my life

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friend2: omg that’s where my sunglasses went 🙄

ynuser: idk what you’re talking abt 🤭

yourbff: thanks for going on the trip of a lifetime with me y/n/n

ynuser: i love you bestie 🫶🏻

carlossainz55: and thank you to the universe for crossing our paths 🥹

ynuser: thank you universe, i am forever grateful 😫

landonorris: ok cool girl alert

ynuser: you know it

friend3: i’m not sure how to act normal in these comments y/n

ynuser: me neither

yoursibling: you’re never coming home after italy in a few weeks are you

ynuser: nope!

carlossainz55 has made a post

liked by user1, charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, ynuser, yourbff, landonorris, yoursibling, and 783,102 others

carlossainz55: happy for the team, charles and the tifosi. it’s a shame i missed the podium but at least i got to spend my birthday with my favorite girl. until next time monza!

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user2: ohhhhhh a hard launch

user3: i wish he got a podium in his last monza in a ferrari

charlesleclerc: ❤️ thank you chili

alexandrasaintmleux: cuties 🤍

user4: this hard launch is distracting me from the immense sadness, thanks carlos

user55: she’s living my dream your honor

ynuser: feliz cumpleaños mi amor

carlossainz55: gracias princessa

ynuser: gracias por una semana perfecta [thank you for a perfect week]

carlossainz55: de nada 🤍

user10: you did all you could carlos

scuderiaferrari: we are proud of you chili

user16: you and your big brain still did amazing

yourbff: you did great carlos!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: likes and reblogs appreciated!! i quite liked this one and hope you did too

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[hivemuthur]

Hey! I was the one who wanted to request an arrange marriage (regency era) au with viktor and reader. I would like the reader to be bubbly and artistic (for painter/drawer), if that’s okay?

If you’ve watched bridgerton, perhaps reader would be apart of that family? But if you haven’t, that’s fine, just ignore this part lol

Hi Anon! So... this is happening. People this is my take on Bridgerton-inspired regency AU :v more under picture!

A Deer and a Man - Ch.1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit) - tho this chapter is a little pornographic, there is some naked wrists, running around in nightgowns and men with loosened cravats, so proceed with caution :v

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 7,7K (it will be this long, sorry!)

tag: #d&m

summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family's wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?

author's note: Anon, forgive me, but I wasn't able to write it precisely into the Bridgerton universe, I don't know it nearly enough. Also, I got brain damaged while writing it and included the artist part as a pianist, as this is the subject I know best. Super special thanks to @mithrava who helped me with details (I almost squeezed our poor girl into a corset, but she fucking hates bras anyways) and to @rennethen who beta reads and brainstorms the ideas with me!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

The first look into the mirror in the morning is always suspended between a thing in bloom and a thing fading away. What blossoms is the vision of yourself, wrapped up in a short stay, your form sculpted to society’s liking, cheeks brushed with a becoming rose tint, hair pinned into a careful bun, soft tendrils escaping to frame your face. The self that fades is the girl who may draw a full breath, whose flushed cheeks owe nothing to powder but to joy, whose wild curls defy taming. You greet her each evening and bid her farewell each morning, so that the lady—your family’s prized jewel—might step into the light. Mostly.

That is, when you were not hunched over the piano, playing Appassionata with a furious fervour instead of what your mother deemed proper, like some dull Hummel or Clementi. How utterly boring and soulless they seemed, that you could almost hear your night self scolding you each time your fingers reluctantly touched the keys to play one of those Sonatinas.

Running was also a thing you had to avoid, for the most part. Eating a whole apple was strictly vulgar. As for a whole egg—well, that was something to be done in the strict privacy of the kitchens, once you’d managed to filch one without the cooks noticing. Yanking your skirts up while sitting on the grass and scribbling was also one of those moments when, if your mother had caught you, she would have been most displeased, to say the least. All in all, you had precious little time to let your night self emerge during the waking hours. She was continually suppressed by the version of you that took small, delicate bites, drank tea from a tiny cup, and sat upright while playing agreeable tunes.

Today, of all days, it is imperative that your night self remain firmly in check, while your day self does her utmost to impress the very man you have already deemed beyond salvation—without so much as laying eyes on him. A rare occasion indeed, where both versions of you are in agreement.

He has but one benefit of the doubt, and that is Jayce Talis. A brilliant inventor you once encountered when you slipped away from your mother and sisters while running errands in town. Back then, he had been mocked and overlooked as he tried to preach his discoveries from a modest tent set up on the way to the pharmacy. Someone particularly unkind had flung a fistful of mud in his direction, which Jayce avoided with such grace that your eyes had lit up.

You had been so young then, perched atop a crate of peaches, listening from afar, watching him wave his hands about, utterly bewitching.

"Is this truth you are speaking? Absolutely fascinating," you had said, once you had mustered the courage to approach him and give voice to the questions grinding in your hungry mind.

"It’s all possible, Miss," he had replied with a brilliant smile. "Take a pamphlet. I am here every Thursday."

But before you could so much as tell him your name, your mother had seized you by the ear and dragged you—nearly by force—into the nearest perfumery. Huffing and sighing in disapproval, she had straightened your dress, grumbled about the mud on your shoes, and scolded you for indulging the poor man’s delusions.

Little did she know.

Five years later, Jayce Talis is one of the most sought-after and highly regarded inventors and scientists in the entire region. Yet it is not he whom your family desires—not exactly. His research and the opportunity to invest in it—now that is what truly entices them.

And standing beside Jayce is his partner, Viktor. A stray, adopted by House Talis as though he were its own son. Apparently just as brilliant, undoubtedly just as sought-after.

"A good match," your mother says with a firm tone.

"A bright future for you and your sisters," your father says, his voice tinged with sadness and apology.

Of all men, you had thought him the one who would never betray you. And you tell yourself it is only one part of you that he has betrayed. Yet it wounds you so deeply because it is the part he always claimed to love most of all.

The real part of you.

You push her aside as you tuck a loose lock back into your bun. Fill your lungs with as much air as your short stay allows—nearly not enough. Then you answer your mother’s call with a rehearsed, “I will be right there, Maman!”

One last glance in the mirror—oh, no. You forgot a smile.

So you plaster it back onto your face, let the stale air escape your chest, and run—no, walk—downstairs. And the noise is already there as they all exchange their exaggerated good afternoons—your sweet father, your benevolent mother, your silly younger sisters, Jayce and Viktor. You hear their voices, your mother chuckling politely at Jayce’s remarks about bumpy roads, Viktor’s reserved greeting with a lilt of an accent that makes your ears perk up. Pretty.

Your eyes land on Jayce first—his frame broader than you remember—and something swells within you. Not sultry, just pleased to see this once-boy now a full-grown man, taking up the space he was always meant to claim.

And next to him—oh.

Emerging from your father’s embrace is Viktor, visibly startled by the stark contrast between your official mother and your matey father, who claps him on the back, smiling with flushed cheeks. Happy, relieved, because the boy who will marry his daughter is a slender, gentle man with kind hands and bright eyes. Your father breathes deeply, granting himself absolution for sending his eldest away into the arms of a stranger.

And the man at the bottom of the staircase looks nothing like the monster you painted in your mind. His frame is lithe yet full of quiet strength, supported by a cane. His face, all sharp angles, is touched by shifting light and shadow with every expression he tries to suppress. Lips small and tender, nose a work of the most skilled sculptor, eyes the colour of your father’s favourite bourbon—and your favourite honey, the one from summer flowers. His leg is hugged by a strange contraption of a brace, and you feel a weird sense of camaraderie—both of you constricted in some way.

"Hello," you say in your rehearsed voice, though it wavers slightly at the touch of his hand on yours. Your heart stumbles between beats when his lips press to your glove, his thumb steady on your knuckles.

"I am so glad to finally have met you, Miss. I have heard so much about you," says Viktor, holding your gaze. His composure settles back into place, his eyes drilling into you. And beneath his voice, a hint—suggesting he has heard more than just that you are a sweet young lady.

"Only good things, I hope?" you ask. And truly, the hope lingers in your tone, even though you know Jayce has told him what a wild thing you are when nobody is watching.

Briefly, you wonder—what would it be like to be asked by this man to marry him, had your families not decided your fate for you? Would you say yes, tears in your eyes? Or would you smile gently and tell him a polite maybe? Would you challenge him or take him in without compromise, had you met and known him before everything was resolved for you?

"Only good things," Viktor says with a false, polite smile as he releases your hand. And the falseness of it stirs something within you—a worry, a flicker of fear.

What is this man like when no one is watching?

You have heard almost nothing—only mentions of his brilliance and good behaviour. But if they are as much half-truths as the mentions of your brilliance and good behaviour, then this arrangement could be either a blessing or a curse.

Not that it matters. If you ever wanted to be married, which you still do not. You merely accept your fate for the sake of…

For the sake of your family. Of course.

The exchange of pleasantries has barely settled when the butler steps forward, his voice measured and precise. "My lord, my lady, refreshments are prepared in the drawing room."

"Ah, excellent!" Father claps Jayce’s shoulder in a display of easy camaraderie. "We have much to discuss, Mister Talis. Shall we?"

Mother inclines her head gracefully, extending a gloved hand toward the open doorway. "Come, gentlemen. We shall not let business keep us from our tea."

The procession to the drawing room is orderly, Father leading Jayce in enthusiastic conversation about the boundless opportunities ahead. "A partnership of this nature is unprecedented, of course. An investment in the future—our shared future."

Jayce responds with the confidence of a man accustomed to admiration. "Precisely, my lord. With the right support, we could revolutionise industry as we know it."

You follow with measured steps, Viktor at your side. He has not spoken since the introduction, his expression composed, though his eyes—deep, contemplative—move with interest over the fine furnishings of the room.

As everyone settles, tea is poured, the gentle clink of porcelain filling the brief lull in conversation. You accept your cup, watching as Viktor does the same, his fingers long and careful around the delicate handle. A man of precision, no doubt.

You lower yourself onto one of the chairs as a maid pours the tea, your hands folding neatly in your lap as you watch your father and Jayce fall into an easy rhythm of discussion. They speak of investments, of Hextech’s promise, of the ways in which your family’s patronage will shape the future. You hear none of it.

“You must find this arrangement rather inconvenient,” you say to Viktor, keeping your voice light as you turn toward him.

His eyes sharpen, though his smile remains polite. “How so?” His hand playing with the cane stills, long fingers extend idly toward its wooden pole.

You tilt your head. “To be bound to a wife you do not know. And for science, no less.”

Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle, setting his tea down. “Science is a noble cause, Miss. Perhaps even nobler than marriage.”

A test. You recognise it as easily as you recognise your own reflection.

"Then I suppose you have the better end of the bargain," you say, knowing it’s in fact, the exact opposite.

What Viktor doesn’t know, is that your mother has ensured the bargain benefits your family far more than it does the inventors. And looking at both of them—Jayce, hardly containing the beam on his face, and Viktor, observing everything reverently—you feel a pang of guilt, followed by a flicker of anger at the injustice.

A plan formulates in your wicked brain faster than you can blink.

Viktor’s lips press together, but amusement flickers in his gaze. “Perhaps we both do.”

Whatever he means by that, you don’t get the chance to find out. Your mother’s voice cuts through the conversation, her smile as polished as the silverware. “My dear, do spare Mister Viktor the interrogation.”

You return her smile, though yours is sharper. “I was only ensuring he is as clever as they say.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow slightly before she turns back to Viktor, seamlessly redirecting the conversation to something safer. "Dearest, I do believe Mister Talis was about to ask your thoughts on Clementi’s compositions. Such refined taste in music is most becoming."

A deliberate redirection. A warning.

You inhale, curbing the temptation to press further. "Indeed, my lady Mother." Turning to Jayce, you summon a practiced smile. "I do believe his sonatinas have their merits. Though, some find them rather—predictable."

Viktor’s gaze lingers a moment longer, unreadable. You have tested him, and he has not recoiled. A curiosity, then. A mystery yet to unfold.

You spend the rest of the afternoon refreshments chatting to Jayce about mediocre music, wondering if he is as bored as you are. He is ever the gentleman, offering the occasional enthusiastic nod or agreeable remark, though you catch the way his gaze strays toward the conversation between your Father and Viktor. You, on the other hand, attempt to suppress yawns, stuffing your face with biscuits only to receive a sharp, silent scolding from your mother—her ever-composed expression unchanging, yet her message perfectly clear in the slight arch of her brow and the subtle narrowing of her eyes.

Jayce, for his part, is far less burdened by such silent reprimands, complimenting the food with an easy charm that has even the servants standing a little straighter. "Absolutely delightful," he declares after a bite of pastry. "Your cooks must be geniuses, my lady."

Mother responds with a gracious nod, her practiced smile unwavering. "We do strive for excellence."

Meanwhile, across the room, Viktor exchanges politeness with your father, and—intriguingly—seems to warm to the conversation. While his initial responses are careful, measured, there is a spark of genuine enthusiasm as the subject shifts to research. Your father, less constipated than your mother in matters of etiquette, easily shakes off formality, allowing his hand to linger on Viktor’s shoulder longer than necessary—a gesture of camaraderie and gratitude.

As the discussion unfolds, Viktor’s composure loosens. He leans in slightly, his hands moving as he speaks, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of a man entirely lost in his own world of ideas. His voice, once restrained, now carries a lilt of passion as he explains the intricacies of Hextech and its boundless potential. You watch, fascinated, as the façade slips away—just a little—revealing something softer beneath. And how lovely he looks when he forgets himself.

Dinner proceeds without any great disturbances, save, again, for your mother’s silent rebukes whenever you take too large a bite or drink too greedily. Conversation flows between the three men, animated and full of promise—the future, progress, the shape of the world yet to come. All three desire it in their own way, though you suspect Viktor’s hunger for it is of a different nature than the others’.

And then, of course, comes your turn to be put on display. After dinner, Mother’s hand lands lightly on your wrist, her voice smooth as silk yet firm beneath the surface. "Dearest, why don’t you show our guests the depths of your talents? A sonatina, perhaps? Something refined."

Refined, meaning dull. Predictable. A test, as everything always is.

You rise, crossing the room with measured steps, already feeling Viktor’s gaze on you. He has seen something of you in conversation—but now, he will listen.

And so—you play the godforsaken Sonatina, your skin pulled tight over your face, eyes hooded, fingers moving with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner serving a sentence. Your back aches from keeping your spine stiffly straight, and despite your best efforts, your brows begin to furrow in ironic frustration. You only realise it when your mother clears her throat—pointedly, just a touch too loud.

You correct yourself immediately, smoothing your expression, though you swear you hear the ghost of a chuckle slip past Viktor’s lips. How dare he.

"How lovely," Jayce says, his smile wide and honest. You return it with one of your own—entirely dishonest—as you offer an insincere, "Thank you, Mister Talis," and bow politely. Viktor nods and swallows, and for some reason, you catch the way his throat bobs.

"Gentlemen, I believe it is time to discuss business. Let us move to the smoking room," Father announces, beaming. You can't suppress the sigh that escapes you. Soon—very soon—your night self will be free. She has been clawing at the edges of your skin for hours.

"Goodnight, my dearest girls," Father says warmly, pressing a kiss to both your forehead and your mother’s—a gesture so private, so natural, it earns him a scoff from his wife and a kiss on the cheek from his daughter.

Pleasantries are exchanged, and as soon as the men are out of sight, you bolt toward your bedroom. Your mind is already racing, gears grinding. Your feet slip from your heels, and you clasp them in your hands as you take the stairs two at a time. Every step sheds another layer of constriction—the short stay, the chemise, the pins biting into your scalp, the suffocating weight of your skirts. Off, off, off. The blush, the powder, the pretence. Her watch has ended for today.

You shake your hair loose from its updo before you even reach your door, already calling for your maid the moment you step inside, clawing at the laces of your gown in desperation.

“Miss, why the dramatics?” she teases, catching up with you in the corridor.

“Peggy don’t test me. I can’t breathe,” you whine, slumping onto your vanity chair, hands pressing against your ribs to emphasize the urgency. “I am convinced that in hell, everyone wears a short stay.”

Peggy chuckles but says nothing more as her fingers work deftly at the laces, loosening them with a care that speaks of years spent tending to you. You feel the tension ease, your ribs finally expanding without resistance.

“Well?” she prompts, her voice light but expectant. “How was the evening?”

You hesitate. The words sit heavy on your tongue, as though speaking them aloud would solidify them, make them real. And you are not quite ready for that. Instead, you exhale slowly, composing yourself before replying, “He is… nice.” That is all you can manage.

Peggy hums knowingly. “From what I managed to spy, he’s also rather handsome.”

You scoff, turning your head away. “Is that all that matters?”

“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” she says with a grin, but she does not press further.

At last, the constriction gives way, and you take an exaggerated breath, filling your lungs like a drowning woman reaching the surface. Then, without ceremony, you slide off the chair and sprawl flat on the floor, half-dressed, limbs flung out like a marionette with its strings cut.

Peggy, unfazed, picks up your nightgown and drapes it over you as though covering a corpse. “God, grant rest upon my poor mistress’s soul and let her eternity be free of the constriction of breast support,” she intones in mock solemnity.

Laughter bubbles up from your chest, unrestrained and real. You lift an arm weakly and wave it in her general direction. “Saint Peggy, patron of weary ladies, I thank you.”

She curtsies dramatically. “As ever, at your service. Call on me if you need anything.”

“I expect I shall sleep like a log.”

“Good. You’ve earned it, I think.” With that, she takes her leave, pulling the door shut behind her.

Silence settles over the room, thick and absolute. You are alone.

For the first time since the day began, the weight of it all presses down on you. The evening, the introductions, the expectations—your mother’s sharp gaze, your father’s quiet resignation, the way Viktor’s eyes had searched yours with something unreadable. It is real now. You are betrothed.

You swallow. A part of you wants to dwell on it, to trace every moment back and find meaning in the way Viktor’s lips had pressed to your glove, or how he had looked when he spoke of his work, his façade slipping just enough to let something genuine through. But you stop yourself before you go too far.

No. There is still one more thing to do tonight.

You push yourself up from the floor, shaking away the thoughts. The night is not over yet.

Barefoot and silent, you slip from your chambers, the corridor dimly lit by the soft glow of sconces. The house is quiet, the faint crackle of a dying hearth the only sound accompanying your careful steps. You know this path well—the precise places to avoid so the floorboards won’t betray you, the door handle that needs an extra nudge before it turns smoothly.

Inside, your father’s study smells of ink, aged paper, and a lingering trace of cigar smoke. The large mahogany desk dominates the space, neat and orderly, save for the glass of brandy he left half-finished. You move swiftly, rifling through the stack of documents until you find it—your contract, tucked within a leather folder. The paper is thick beneath your fingers, the ink crisp and unwavering in its certainty.

You sit at his desk, candle alit, quill and ink poised above parchment. The contract lies before you, its neat, formal script a reminder of how little say you had in its creation. Pushed through by your father but shaped by your mother’s precise demands, it is, at its core, a transaction. A business arrangement designed to favour your family above all else.

Your eyes skim over the terms, and irritation prickles beneath your skin. The imbalance is glaring. The investment into Hextech is substantial, but in return, the Talises and your future husband receive only what your mother deems “reasonable compensation.” No direct ownership, no authority over the funds. Your family retains the power, and Viktor and Jayce are little more than beneficiaries at your parents’ discretion. A gilded leash.

You press your lips together. No. This will not do.

Dipping your quill into the ink, you begin to amend.

First, the finances—your father’s control over the investment is reduced. Instead of an allowance doled out at his leisure, the funds will be released in agreed-upon increments, ensuring neither Jayce nor Viktor are forced to beg for what is already promised to them. They will have the freedom to allocate resources as needed, without interference from your family.

Next, ownership. The contract had positioned your father as a silent but permanent stakeholder, yet he has no knowledge of Hextech, no hand in its creation. You strike that out, altering it so that once their research yields results, patents and profits remain in the hands of their rightful creators. Your family will receive a generous return, but not at the expense of their autonomy.

Then, Viktor himself. The terms outlining your marriage are, predictably, cold. Your mother’s hand is evident in every word. You are to be an asset to your husband, a guiding influence, ensuring that he remains focused and socially presentable. It is not about companionship—it is about control.

You set your quill down, flexing your fingers before taking it up again. You cannot undo the engagement, but you can redefine it. The clauses regarding expectations of your role are softened, turned into vague suggestions rather than obligations. Where once it stated that your husband must be “encouraged” to attend events and maintain appearances, you adjust it to read that he may do so at his discretion. No doubt your mother will notice this change, but you will cross that bridge when you must.

By the time you finish, the candle has burned low. You lean back, studying your work. The contract remains an arrangement, a tether you cannot sever, but at least now, it is fairer. A step closer to something tolerable.

You blot the ink, letting the parchment dry. The night stretches on, silent save for the scratching of your quill as you forge your own small rebellion in ink.

Once you deem it ready, you sneak back out, guiding your footsteps toward the guest bedrooms. An unthinkable mésalliance, your mother would say, but you feel that both Jayce and Viktor should be made aware—if your plan is to work. You step carefully, your bare feet growing dirty from crossing the house without slippers.

Muffled conversation filters through the door your mother assigned to Jayce. His voice is slightly raised, Viktor’s quieter, edged with irony. They are discussing the evening.

One proper breath, and then a knock on the door.

The hum of conversation ceases instantly as heavy footsteps approach. The door cracks open, and Jayce’s eyes widen—because there you stand, in nothing but your nightdress and a loose cape that does little to conceal your state of undress.

His mouth falls open, and only a small, startled sound escapes his lips.

“Let me in!” you whisper sharply, glancing down the corridor with nervous urgency.

“Oh, Miss, forgive me, but this… is very inappropriate,” Jayce says weakly, though he makes no move to stop you as you push past him and step into the room.

The air is thick with the remnants of their earlier conversation, the scent of brandy lingering. Viktor sits slouched in an armchair, one elbow propped on the armrest, fingers pressed against his temple as if warding off a headache. He watches you, silent, unreadable.

Jayce, on the other hand, is all frantic gestures and hushed protests. “You must go back to your room. If anyone—God, if your mother—” He exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw. “This is madness.”

You cross your arms, standing your ground. “Fuck the polite society, Jayce. Do you want to be a slave to my mother, or will you read what I brought you?”

At that, Viktor’s lips quirk—barely. “Quite a mouth you have there, Miss.” His voice is smooth, carrying none of Jayce’s flustered panic. He rises from his chair, extending a hand.

It’s only then that you truly take him in. His shirt is undone at the neck, the cravat abandoned somewhere, his hair tousled prettily as if he’s raked his fingers through it too many times. A flush warms his cheeks—alcohol, no doubt, courtesy of your father.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before placing the document in his outstretched hand. Your fingers brush, and you retreat too quickly, as if the touch burned.

Silence. Viktor’s eyes flick across the page, reading with quiet intensity. Jayce, peeking over his shoulder, mutters under his breath, “Oh, my.”

Viktor lets out a quiet scoff, the amusement avoiding his eyes. “And to what do we owe this mercy of yours, pray tell?” His gaze lingers on the last lines of your text, his tone devoid of the warmth he carried earlier. Now, it is sharp, cold, measured—kindness stripped away as if it had only ever been a mask to wear in polite company. He swallows and lifts his eyes to you, utterly unamused, borderline bored. “I loathe charity.”

Heat rises to your cheeks before you can stop it, a tangled mess of emotions forming beneath your ribs, but anger is among them. You exhale sharply, crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly very aware of how exposed you are. “And I loathe injustice and trickery. This—” you gesture vaguely at the parchment. “Is fair. If I am to be sold to a man I do not know, let it be on terms that are humanely acceptable.”

“How kind,” he says, smiling—mocking. “And how do you expect us to accept this? Who do you think is stupid, me and Mister Talis or your own father?” He steps closer, ignoring the way Jayce’s hand presses against his shoulder as if to restrain him. His weight wavers without a cane, and for a moment, you think he might have to steady himself on you.

“My father is not an unkind man. He simply loves my mother too much for his own good. My mother…” You tilt your head, letting the words settle between you. “Well, she’s a woman.”

The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. “Charming.”

“But my father will not read this upon signing, of that I am certain. We will be long bound before anyone notices.”

Viktor exhales, a sound of something between disbelief and amusement. “And who are you doing this for, my merciful Lady?” His voice shifts, the sharpness still there, but beneath it—a spark of something else. The same fervour he held when speaking of his machines, now laced with something darker.

“Myself, my Lord.” You meet his gaze without hesitation. “You just happen to be a casualty of my mercy.”

And something stirs in your chest—a swelling, an exhilaration. The night version of you, the real you, speaking bluntly to the man who is to be your husband. And he does not recoil. He accepts the challenge. Infuriatingly so, but beneath your irritation, something sparks under your skin that you cannot chase away. Excitement.

Viktor blinks, slowly. Then, he turns to Jayce, whose face has gone chalk white during your exchange. “What do you think of this?”

Jayce swallows hard. “What if he notices? Your father, that is,” he asks wearily, clearly tempted by your terms yet frightened of what it might cost your families' alliance.

“He won’t. And if, by some unholy joke, he does—I will take the blame. Tonight never happened,” you state firmly, bravely. You do not let your voice betray the truth: that you have no idea what you would do if your mother ever found out. She would probably cut your hair and throw you in a convent.

They both nod, and you allow yourself a breath. Then, Viktor extends his hand for a handshake.

You stare at it briefly before accepting—his palm is calloused, warm. Bigger than yours, his fingers so long they nearly brush your wrist. His grip is firm, unwavering.

For the briefest moment, his gaze flickers downward—to your chest. It’s so quick you might have missed it. But you didn’t. And neither did he miss the way heat rushes to your cheeks.

His eyes meet yours again, glinting with an unreadable taunt. “I think it’s best you return to your chambers, my Lady,” he says at last. To that, you can only nod.

You slip back into your father’s office under the cover of darkness, placing the altered contract precisely where it needs to be—where it will be signed without a second glance. Then, just as carefully, you retreat to your chambers, slipping past every creaking floorboard with the expertise of someone who has done this many times before.

Once inside, you bolt the door, shrugging off your cape before sinking onto the mattress. The night version of you refuses to rest. She tosses and turns, replaying every moment of the evening—the music, the dinner, the conversation, the challenge in Viktor’s eyes, the brush of his fingers against yours.

And yet, despite all of it, he is still a stranger.

Morning invades you with harsh light pouring through the abruptly opened curtains and Peggy’s voice urging you to get up.

“Miss? You’ve overslept! Up! Up!” she whisper shouts, pulling the covers down from the bed.

You groan and press your palms to your eyes, curling up into a bean. “Peggy, have mercy, I beg of you.”

“Sorry, Miss, no mercy today. Our guests are leaving soon, and you can’t miss breakfast, not today,” Peggy says with a kind smile that disarms you. You roll out of your bed, feet dragging across the floor before you slump down in front of the vanity. You watch as Peggy chases away the night self, pins your hair up, wipes the night drool of your face to make you at least vaguely presentable. She’s merciful with the short stay though­—picks a looser one, from the time before you lost your baby fat.

Your heels clack on the staircase and you can already hear voices coming from downstairs. As you approach the drawing room, a glimpse of the scene within stops you in your tracks. Lurking in the doorframe, you watch as Jayce and Viktor hunch over a parchment, feigning deep concentration as they pretend to read it thoroughly before signing. They do so, exchanging pats on the shoulder—conspirators sealing a silent agreement.

Then, it is your father’s turn. He catches sight of you lingering in the doorway and flashes you a warm smile. “Good morning, love.”

His eyes drop back to the document. He gives it one last cursory sweep, his quill hovering just above the space left to sign.

You hold your breath.

And he... hesitates. A small hmm escapes him. His brows knit together in fleeting consideration, and then—oh.

He looks straight at you.

Heat flares in your cheeks, but you do not waver. You hold his gaze, steady, unflinching. And for whatever reason—be it the bond of blood or simply the fact that he has known you all your life—his expression softens. A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

And oh.

He signs.

You exhale, breathless, weightless. Laughter erupts between them—hugs, handshakes, pats on the back. Jayce beams, his happiness unguarded. Viktor wears a smile that, for once, looks almost honest. Your father looks content.

It is signed. Done. Sealed.

Your father steps forward and pulls you into a firm embrace. “You’ve done well. I’m proud of you,” he murmurs against your hair. Then, in a quieter, amused tone, he adds, “Now, let us pray your mother doesn’t notice until the wedding.” He chuckles softly.

Oh. Right. You are getting married.

***

A few days have passed since the contract was signed, and to your relief, your mother has not noticed the adjustments you made. She remains blissfully consumed by wedding preparations, entirely unaware that the original terms—so starkly in favour of your family—have been tempered to grant House Talis a fairer standing.

However, your father called you to his study, his expression unreadable as he regarded you across his desk. His words were firm, yet not unkind. He did not scold, nor did he praise, only ensured you understood the weight of your actions.

"You have done them a service," he admitted at last, after a measured silence. "One I hope they will not forget." And though he said nothing further, though his approval was never voiced, something in his tone—something almost like respect—settled in your chest, easing the uncertainty that had lingered since you first put pen to paper.

Now, with a storm in your mind, your fingers fly over the keys, the sharp, cascading notes of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata (Presto Agitato) filling the room with thunderous urgency. It drowns out everything—the ticking of the clock, the creak of the floorboards, even the faint rustle of the curtains shifting in the afternoon breeze.

You have not thought about it until now. Not truly. Not beyond the abstraction of ink on parchment and the murmured discussions over tea and candlelight. But now, with only days left before you are no longer just yourself but someone’s wife, it hits you. A shift. A point of no return.

How strange, to know that the house you grew up in, the one you have played in, dreamt in, stormed through in childhood fits of temper, will no longer be yours. That soon, your place at this very piano, in this very room, will be an absence rather than a presence. The thought unsettles you.

So you play harder. Louder. Until the force of it rings in your chest, keeping you from thinking too much. You curl forward, biting your lip absentmindedly, your face twisted with emotion, your torso nearly hovering over the keys like a hunchback.

You do not hear the front door open, nor the sound of measured footsteps in the hall. You do not see the maid, Peggy, curtsy as she leads your visitor inside. You do not even notice when she hesitates, turning to announce him—because before she can, a voice stops her.

"It’s alright, Peggy. Please, allow me."

It is a quiet request, yet it holds the weight of something decisive. Viktor stands in the doorway, smiles for Peggy, but his eyes are fixed on you, considering. The way your body moves with the music, the tension in your shoulders, the way you lose yourself in the notes.

Peggy looks up at him, blinking in momentary surprise, before a small, approving smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. He is not appalled. Not by the passion, the volume, the unladylike ferocity with which you play. And that, she thinks, is a good sign.

So she gives him a knowing look, inclines her head, and quietly slips away—leaving him alone to watch you. And you, still unaware of his presence, continue to play.

He spies your reflection in the window—your face shifting from one expression to another with each rise and fall of the music. Your brows knit in concentration, your eyes clamp shut with feeling, your mouth parts slightly, forming an unconscious little o. Strands of hair have slipped free from their updo, framing your cheeks in wild disarray.

Viktor inches closer, careful to avoid the floorboards that might creak beneath his step. He drinks in the scene—the unguarded display, the sheer abandon with which you play. A thought takes root. Perhaps this arrangement will not be the terrible imprisonment he once feared. Surely, you—with your tempestuous fingers and flagrant disregard for propriety—will agree that freedom is the highest privilege, worth protecting above all else.

He tells himself the feeling in his chest is not admiration but hope. Hope that the two of you might reach an understanding, one that will allow you both to remain unshackled even within the binds of matrimony. He tells himself that your parted mouth is merely amusing, nothing more.

The piece crashes to an end, and with a frustrated groan, you collapse forward, resting your forehead and elbows on the keyboard. A discordant wail echoes through the room. Viktor chuckles and finally breaks the silence.

"Are you not happy with your play, Miss?"

You jolt upright with a sharp gasp, spinning around so quickly that you nearly stumble in your haste to stand.

"Dear God, my Lord!"

You attempt a curtsy, but the motion is so hurried and clumsy that you almost topple over. Viktor steps forward instinctively, his hands finding your forearms to steady you, cane clattering to the floor. His grip is light, his touch like a feather, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to startle," he murmurs, breath quickening despite himself at the warmth and tension in your arms. He holds you wondering whether his fingertips would meet had he closed them around you. The thought gets chased away as soon as it enters his mind.

You swallow hard, your heart still racing from the shock. The room suddenly feels much smaller, the space between you too charged. You are keenly aware of your appearance—loosened hair, flushed cheeks, a dress slightly rumpled from sitting too long at the piano. You feel exposed. He does not seem to mind, still holding your elbows.

"I do not know as much about music as Jayce," Viktor continues, tilting his head slightly, "but this sounded rather… challenging, no?"

"I’m so sorry—you weren’t meant to hear this," you blurt out, lowering your gaze.

"I enjoyed it thoroughly," he replies without hesitation. "It’s rather different to what I heard last time."

Your fingers twitch on his arms. Different was one way to put it.

"Oh, it’s quite different," you admit. Then, lowering your voice, "Also, quite forbidden. Please don’t tell my mother—she will burn my sheet music and make me play that measly Clementi until my fingers bleed."

Viktor smirks, his fingers wrapping just a notch tighter around your arms. "I shall keep your secret, Miss. What’s another one shared between betrothed? I imagine there will be more."

For the briefest moment, you wonder if he is flirting. Your pulse quickens at the notion, but you quickly clear your throat and step back, disentangling yourself from his grasp. You smooth your skirts, willing the heat in your cheeks to fade.

"What brings you here, if you don’t mind my asking?"

He leans to pick up the cane and you wonder momentarily if you should help, before he says, "Oh, I was announced to call upon you today. Have you forgotten?"

You press your lips together, mortified. "Forgive me. It completely slipped my mind—I got lost in thought."

Viktor hums, nodding in understanding. "That’s quite alright. I think I am familiar with the feeling." Then, arching a brow, "Also, why are we whispering?"

Your shoulders stiffen. "Because if my benevolent mother finds us here without a chaperone, hell will open its mouth and swallow me whole."

Viktor huffs a quiet laugh, unbothered. "I was told your mother went to town with your sisters, Miss. No need to fret. Or whisper, as much as I like the sound of it."

His voice is steady, indifferent to the scandalous implication of being alone together. You, however, remain acutely aware of it, your hands smoothing over your skirts once more as if to will yourself into some semblance of propriety. So odd to meet another who cares not about the binding of the rules made up by God knows who. Absolutely peculiar to be the one who leans toward the constriction on instinct, being presented with someone who doesn’t obey. The night self has cackled within you ludicrously.

“What is the reason for your calling, then?” you ask, forcing your voice to remain steady.

“I was told by Jayce’s sweet mother that such is a custom between courting couples,” Viktor replies, his tone unreadable.

Courting. Couple. Be still, your stupid heart. You press your lips together before speaking. “I thought I was considered to be courted by now.”

Viktor tilts his head slightly, watching you as though deciphering a puzzle. “If you do not wish me to visit, do tell. I don’t mean to impose upon you, Miss.”

“Oh no, my Lord, forgive my bluntness,” you say quickly, feeling a warmth creep up your neck. “I am merely not sure if I am able to entertain you in the way you desire.”

Something shifts in Viktor’s expression—his gaze darkens slightly, and his fingers twitch at his cane before he hesitates, swallowing as if choosing his words carefully. “I meant to invite you for a stroll later this week,” he says at last, voice softer, but still carrying that enigmatic lilt. “Apparently, it is good were we to be seen in public together. I thought we could kill two birds with one stone and have an unsupervised conversation while being regarded.”

There’s something about the way he says it—an almost playful contradiction in the idea of a private moment under the scrutiny of others—that makes you pause. He is studying you again, and though you should feel wary, you find yourself intrigued instead.

“Well, I would lie if I said you didn’t grasp my attention. I shall indulge you, my Lord,” you say after taking a long inhale, steadying yourself. The moment of unguarded reaction is gone—you slip back into the polished version of yourself, the one who knows how to navigate these waters. Calm, composed, hands resting gently on your abdomen, back straight, chin held high.

Viktor only smiles, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he inclines his head. “I am no Lord, just a man. Please, call me Viktor.”

Your fingers twitch where they rest. He is dismantling barriers you had placed with such ease it’s infuriating. “I will be there, Viktor.” The name feels unfamiliar yet strangely natural on your tongue.

In response, he whispers your name softly, like a secret meant only for him to know. A shiver curls up your spine, and before you can stop yourself, your arms move—grasping at your elbows in a defensive clutch. The instinct to shield yourself is immediate, but you smother it, replacing it with a placid smile. If Viktor notices, he does not call attention to it, though something in his gaze flickers. He looks as though he is about to say something, but then he hesitates. Withdraws.

For a moment, you simply stare at each other, the air thick with something unspoken. It feels strange—utterly so. As if you are being assessed, studied with a precision that leaves you feeling exposed. And the duel is not fair. He has some sort of weapon, some unseen advantage, while you stand bare, vulnerable. Like a deer in the forest, ears pricked, waiting for the shot to ring out.

“I shan’t disturb you further,” he finally says, turning toward the door. “I will send a note as to when and where we will meet.”

On cue, the door creaks, and Peggy peeks through the crack.

“Miss, the Lady will be back soon. Shall I make some tea for you and your caller?”

You exhale sharply, regaining your bearings. “Mister Viktor is leaving, but thank you. We should, probably—” You catch yourself before you say too much, before you admit that you need to look as though you have been dutifully engaged in proper, ladylike pastimes rather than playing scandalous music behind closed doors. You glance at Peggy, willing her to understand.

She does. “Of course, Miss! I will be with you in a few moments.”

The door clicks shut behind Viktor.

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, pressing a hand against your ribs as though it could steady the frantic beat of your heart.

Save for your father, this was the first time you had been alone in a room with a man. The realisation settles over you like a weight, and the two halves of yourself clash within your chest.

The day you—the dutiful daughter—cannot help but acknowledge the impropriety of it all. She knows what is expected, what lines should not be crossed. And yet… she hesitates. Because the unease doesn’t stem solely from being alone with a man. It stems from being alone with Viktor, a man whose manners slip free of societal constraints the moment he is given the chance.

The night you, however, does not hesitate. She roars in satisfaction. This was thrilling. The push and pull of conversation, the glances, the knowing looks. And to do so while basking in daylight, without shadows to obscure the truth of it?

Intoxicating.

[cupidkenji]

Gnaw

Now Playing: Gnaw - Alex G everything I knew was looking just as it should Pairing: Nam gyu (player 124) x AFAB!reader CW: smut, oral (r receiving), choking but not in a freaky way he literally chokes reader to get them unconscious (no somno), kidnapping kind of (he takes them back to their house), knifeplay 💀, restraints being used (reader's wrists are tied), noncon technically but again mentally reader is into it, toxic ex bf, he's really whipped tho, minor bloodplay, undertones of sadism, lokey father figure vibes from Nam gyu (i'm so sorry), probably kind of OOC, university AU Summary: After that night, you ran. You should know by now you can never get far from him. Disclaimer: Reader is always thought of to be chubby/bigger when writing but I do my best to not physically describe reader at all with stuff like skin tone or body type. Anyone can read this as reader is not depicted but if there's a slip up please let me know. <3 WC: 3.7k (again) this is a part 2! read part 1 here.

the worms are eating away at my brain i am going crazy. please for this story just imagine you have one of those bed frames that are individual bars w space in between them instead of like one solid thing. also i really need to start writing these earlier in the day so i have the energy to proof read them. i'm sorry for my sins have mercy on me.

The sunlight seared through a pair of shitty motel curtains, attempting to penetrate your shut eyelids. It was the sixth day you were waking up in a scratchy bed on the run down side of your already dirty town. It was the sixth day you would spend missing him. 

You knew it was wrong, immoral to even think of returning to the man who had done such a thing. Who was clearly at a place in his life where he could do such a thing. Even through all the intellectualizing of his actions, the pleading you did with yourself to be disgusted, you weren’t. You knew it the second he cleaned you up and went to sleep, and it was terrifying, so you ran. As soon as you were sober, you ran to the only sanctuary you could afford as a college student who was also renting an apartment and a vehicle. You had already overstayed your welcome, knowing that the six days would cost you more than you wanted to shell out. You didn’t know how long you planned to be gone, originally fleeing the scene to be able to think. It was only proving more difficult as the days ticked on. You’d come all the way out here to talk yourself into hating him, only to carve out an even bigger space within yourself that he was to occupy. You missed him. The more you thought about it, the more apparent it became, and that just pushed you to stay longer. To wait out the bruising feeling eating at you the more you forced yourself away. 

You skipped class, not daring to step foot on campus lest he be waiting for her. The thought made your head fizz, a horrified and excited feeling mingling as they wrapped around the nerves in your stomach. Just the possibility of seeing him overwhelmed you, but you were simultaneously sick from the distance. You were sick of your surroundings, too. The walls were gray and stained, and you feared the hygiene status of the bed you were sleeping in. You hadn’t had much time to pack when you’d left, grabbing miscellaneous clothing that had yet to be put away and shoving it in a backpack. You hadn’t brought a blanket or a pillow, something you regretted. The suffocating nature of the beige room prompted the nightly walks you’d been taking. It was a bearable temperature, and the full perimeter of the building provided a decent amount of ground to cover. You hadn’t grabbed a charger, leaving your phone dead and you bored. Without any artificial stimulation to occupy your head, you took notice of the normally unnoticeable aspects of such a place. There were bits of a wired fence on the right side of the parking lot, the few lamps that lit the outside up had security cameras on them that didn’t work. You couldn't sleep one night, so you’d gone to look at them, finding that when the cords reached the end of the pole, they’d been haphazardly cut. It looked rushed and frayed, like a child had done it with safety scissors. It was deceiving, truly. There was no safety in an already dim parking lot. 

On tonight’s walk, you mulled over the date you’d return by. You still needed to graduate, and realistically, you couldn’t avoid your life forever. You were getting progressively more tired, sleeping less each night you stayed, missing the comfort of your own bed. The ground was uneven and cracked under your shoes, reminding you of the gray, crumbling building you were supposed to retrieve your roommate from. Reminding you of him, how stupid all of this was. There was a familiar smell in the air as you rounded a corner, nearly back to your room. It was distinct, heady and musky, as if you were back on that street and looking up at the flowing smoke again. You did your usual observation of the desolate asphalt full of empty parking spots.

And what the fuck were the odds?

He was already looking at you, the end of his cigarette glowing orange as he took a drag, like a sniper taking aim. He was a mere silhouette being poorly lit up by a streetlight that barely worked, but you knew. It was this feeling of magnetism, the same way he knew exactly who he was looking at, you felt the world around you melt, the air around you became irrelevant as your eyes locked on him. There was another man there, leaning against the hood of his car with Nam gyu right next to him, taking no notice of you as he spoke. You couldn’t make out his words with how far away you were. The man you’d been avoiding making little sounds of acknowledgement while being completely trained on you, posture relaxed and comfortable. He found you.

His friend nudged him, mumbling something and standing up. The both of them walked back into what was presumably the man’s room after snuffing out what they were smoking. You didn’t even register your legs beelining for your room. You threw whatever you had into the backpack you’d brought. You needed to get the fuck out of here. It was an unfathomably cruel move from whatever higher power was in charge of this situation. The two of you were being forced together like sand and water. He was everywhere, no matter where you were he would inevitably catch up. Maybe it took him three months the first time, but clearly he was done waiting. You rushed the check out process, not knowing how long his friend would keep him occupied now that he knew you were here. Maybe he wouldn’t even care. The thought made your stomach twist, but still, you needed to go. Your car seemed like an endless walk from the front doors, parked in the corner closest to your room, dark and unsuspecting. In such an empty place, you didn’t want your car to sit illuminated, as if advertised. This motel had a reputation, and you wanted to keep your means of travel safe. 

Your hands shook slightly as you hit the unlock button on your keys, yanking the handle to the backseat and throwing your bag somewhere in the back. It was just clothes, you didn’t care if it rolled around or hit the floor during the commute to wherever you were going, you just cared about getting out. The slam of the back door shutting seemed louder than what was appropriate for such a bone-deep silence for this time of night. Opening the driver’s side, you barely had enough room to squeeze through before it was being shoved closed from behind you. On impulse, you tried to turn around, startled and drowning in adrenaline; but before you could, the crook of his right arm encompassed your neck, tightening like a snake who was readying the prey for consumption. Your hands shot up, grasping his forearm with a futile grip, as if you could will his arm away from you. The pressure on your windpipe was bleeding black into the edges of your sight, static mingling with your hearing as your head got lighter. You could hear quiet shushes and reassurances coming from the man behind you, as though talking a child back into sleep after a nightmare. You dug your nails into the fabric of his sweatshirt as a weak sob barreled out of your mouth. He only pushed a little harder, pulling you into him. The proximity comforted you despite his actions, and you used the last little bit of energy you had to condemn yourself, body going limp against him after the last internal inquiry of what the fuck was wrong with you. He had also noticed the camera situation, knowing that his actions would go undocumented in the empty little place. He walked you over the passenger seat, hauling you in and buckling you up like a kid in a car seat. He started the route to your house, it was a Friday, your roommate would surely be out. He knew she was barely ever at the house, after staying there on and off for two years, he thinks he could probably count how many times he saw her sleep there on one hand. It wasn’t a long drive, twenty minutes or so, and you’d be home.

–

The normally disarming lamplight of your bedroom reeled in your consciousness from the void it had been thrown to. It didn’t feel particularly calming - not now. Your head was on your pillow, a focused Nam gyu diligently knotting a rope around your wrists, bundling them together and lacing the restraint through your headboard. Your neck felt bruised, sore and pulsing with a light pain as the blood rushed to your head. Your legs tensed on instinct, noticing the motion was not detained. He hadn’t tied your legs. You tugged once at the rope, testing the endurance just as much as you were testing your own strength. Your muscles felt nearly atrophied, the action making an ache ricochet through the oxygen-depleted muscles. Your whole body felt tired, heavy. Your exhale was shaky, slowly deflating from your lungs as if your body was made of stone. 

“Oh, good.” He double checked the knot, tugging once to solidify it’s hold on you before standing up to look down on you. “I didn’t know how long you’d be out.” He sounded so casual, as if instead of choking you unconscious and dragging you home, he’d simply carried you in from the car after you’d fallen asleep in it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your voice was quiet and gravelly, like your throat was coated in sand. Your lip trembled at the feeling of being so close to him. God, you were like a fucking puppy; can’t even be away from him for a week without turning into a weird sentimental puddle upon seeing him again. “Please untie me.” Your eyes watered as you spoke. You’d barely been awake five minutes and you were on the brink of tears. Pathetic. 

His eyes flicked over your face at the sight of your eyes welling up, a little glint of something familiar sparking in them for just a moment. “I can’t.” He shrugged, imitating disappointment at the notion. “You keep running from me. How are we supposed to resolve this if you can’t even keep still?”

Resolve this. Your eyes closed at the words, attempting to stop the tears from spilling at the thought. You’d left him for a reason. It was repeated over and over in your head like a mantra. You had to stick to it even if you couldn’t remember what the desire to be away from him felt like. Even as your chest heaved slightly with panic, you hoped he wouldn’t move. You hoped he would keep talking just so you could hear his voice, be near him. It wasn’t a rational wish by any means, but you could feel the intensity of it in your fucking bones with how consuming it was. 

“I’m not a patient man, honey. I waited for so fucking long.” He leaned over your dormant frame, putting one knee on the bed and moving his other to mirror the motion, effectively pinning your hips down under his weight. “You know, it wasn’t even your roommate who wanted you there. She just left her phone unlocked, and I knew you’d show up if she asked.”

“What-” Your words halted in your throat as he drew a pocket knife from the pocket of his sweatshirt. Jesus.  “Please - you don’t understand-” 

“Relax.” The word was chuckled slightly as he cut you off, like the panic that shot through your eyes at the sight of the blade in his hands was unjustified, like you were being irrational. “I think I was too selfish that night, hm?” The look he was giving you felt like it could kill you if he really wanted it to. Intense and suffocating, full of excitement and devotion. “You clearly hadn’t been touched in months and I got ahead of myself.” He shook his head slightly as his eyes looked over you, your chest was moving quick and shallow as you breathed, stomach tensing as he lifted your shirt up just an inch, caressing the skin above the waistband with his thumb. It barely even seemed intentional, as if his hands subconsciously drew themselves to you, needed to be touching you. 

Any urge you had to respond kept dying before it could be expelled. What do you even say to a situation like this? He was so at ease, explaining himself like a truly remorseful lover would. To anyone who didn’t know his inflection, that’s where it would end;  but you were so in tune with him, you could hear the edge of entertainment that his words carried. Maybe he was sorry, maybe he just liked seeing you unsure.

“I’m gonna make it up to you.” Your breath stumbled as he said it, your wrists grating unconsciously against the confines. “But it hurt my feelings when you ran like that.” He put a hand to his heart as he spoke, emphasizing his words. “So I’m gonna hurt you a little, too.” You felt the point of the blade make contact with the skin that his thumb had been smoothing over minutes before. It was enough to make the first tear fall from the corner of your eye. There was no pressure, just the threat of his words ringing true. Even in this scenario out of most peoples’ nightmares, you still didn’t think he’d truly hurt you, not irreparably. He’d always had sadistic tendencies, you even sometimes - shamefully - thought about the potential that was undoubtedly lurking beneath the surface of his presentability. He could get mean sometimes, especially when he was high, but never like this. He was sober, you could see it in his eyes and the way he moved. He just wanted to do this, wanted to be in control. 

He could practically feel the mesh of emotion seeping from your veins, taking longer than necessary to talk just to watch you soak in it. “Just enough to teach you some manners, honey.” His thumb trailed a line of pure heat along your jaw. “Don’t worry. You’ll probably even like it, knowing you.” 

A weird feeling jolted through the active nerves in your stomach. It was such a direct callout, based in certainty that he carried in his voice. You felt caught, recalling all the times he most likely knew exactly what you were thinking. Another tear streamed down the side of your face. 

The steel in his hand glistened in the low light of your bedroom, the sharpness of it being dragged down the fabric of your shirt, severing the only semblance of modesty you had left; the material draping open and bearing your skin to him. You’d been practically ready for bed by the time you took your walk, foregoing any additional coverage underneath the shirt, leaving all of you vulnerable to the exploration of his eyes. He pushed the sagging cloth to hang more off your shoulders, grazing his hands over the naked parts of you. It was gentle, restrained, like he couldn’t bear the time it would take to touch all of you because he needed it that badly. 

You felt the sting of an opening wound a second later, a whimper barely fleeing your throat. It wasn’t deep, he didn’t push hard. His lips parted as the blood rose to the surface of the small cut, pooling within it and releasing a single drop to pour down the side of your stomach. Before it could gain traction, he smeared the runny crimson, letting the liquid coat the print of his thumb. His pupils dilated at the sight, his breath coming out shakier than he’d like as his blood seemed to thrum in his veins. 

Your face twisted at the feeling, molten lava pooling in your stomach and burning you from the inside out. You felt hot, immune responses and arousal both running rampant in your body. You’d never felt more awake. He lowered his head to your exposed collarbone, brutally reminiscent of the night that predated this one. “See? Not so bad.” He led his hand up to your mouth, palm skimming your side as he hovered his thumb above your sealed lips, muttering out a request to open your mouth for me and you did because he was inexplicably intoxicating. Your tongue was coated in bitter metal combining with the discreet and slight flavor of his skin. You felt dizzy. 

He mouthed down the expanse of your upper body, leaving patches of your skin shiny with his saliva and stinging from the occasional love bite he would leave. He marked his places of affection with small cuts, each one sending a wave of warmth lower and lower, fanning the flames down to where he would ultimately end up. He would kiss over each future scar he left on you, a bloody comparison to your relationship as a whole, his actions making your heart ache and your back arch. You had been trying your hardest to stay quiet, trembling exhales being the only thing you couldn’t suppress; but he had a way of wearing you down in the most pleasurable ways imaginable, gradually building you up to the whimpers that were slipping past your crumbling resolve. 

With caring hands, he pulled at the waistband of your pants, folding them out from under your hips and bending each of your legs forward to get them fully off of your legs, laying them back down once he had. The room felt colder than it ever had. He stared with pride at the state of your perpetually clenched thighs, groping at the tense muscles. “What’d I tell you, huh?” He tucked the blade of the knife under the seam of your underwear, pulling up and slicing clean through them. “I don’t know why you want out when you like it so much.” Cutting the other seam, he let the fabric slide off of you, discarding the shreds of useless hindrance and taking in the full sight of you. 

You didn’t know why you ran either. You did like it. You liked it so fucking much that it scared you. Maybe it was a fear of feeling good, or a fear of what this kind of connection would inevitably do to you, what kind of a man he was. You’d tried to leave him and ended up panting, wet skin glistening and covered in gashes; and the worst part was you liked it. How the fuck could you like something like this?

He left various other claims of territory on your thighs. Teeth marks, nicks from the knife, worshipping kisses of a man in love. Everything action committed against your wanting flesh had so much emotion laced in it that you could barely take it. You were overwhelmed, your brain half shut down, only stopping itself from going dark because then you wouldn’t be able to feel him, to accept what he was giving you. 

He pushed your thighs out of their locked state, soothing over the irritation littered on them with his thumbs and his lips, dulling the sting with an even greater ache that was bleeding directly into the center of you. You felt like he’d lit you on fire. 

The tip of his index finger scorched a line up the place you’d been anticipating, shamelessly gliding in copious arousal that had been pooling since you saw him leaning on the hood of that car. It was a touch that seemed to pump life back into you, invigorating and familiar. Something you missed so much that you were sure you’d never be able to fathom the depth of it. He cursed, quiet and breathy; and you groaned at the feeling of friction, even if it was just a little. 

His mouth on you was sudden, but not rushed; the spontaneity of it forcing a gasp from you. His actions were calculated, arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you open, malleable and pinned. His hands were tense on your legs, fingers digging in tight as if he was struggling with his own internal grievances. You weren’t sure if it was restraint, or desperation, or something uncharted between the two of you. It was scary to think that something could be undefined right now, that maybe he was lost too. 

The warmth of his mouth on you after already having your body thoroughly overworked nearly knocked you unconscious for the second time that night. Your head was as thrown back as it could be given the state of your arms, chest reaching for the ceiling. Your poor wrists burned in the grit of the rope, but it only seemed to add to the peak you were being pushed to. He brought his index finger to sweep through the bountiful wetness in between your legs, this time pushing in and curling up, his second finger joining soon after. 

“Gyu - please -” The nickname was so domestic, something that hadn’t left your lips in months but seemed to feel as natural as breathing in this moment. The loving tone hit him like a wave, drawing a reflexive groan from his mouth. His eyes were practically black from how much his pupils encompassed the iris, his own eyes looking a little watery as a less extreme mimic of yours.

“Missed the way you taste.” The auditory affirmation paired with his fingers and his mouth sent you toppling. His fingers never let up, his mouth detaching to plant light kisses on the bone of your hip, looking up at your breathtaking form with an awestruck gaze that you couldn’t see through your closed eyes and tilted back head. 

You panted, thinking it was over. Maybe he’d fuck you, or maybe he would make you tea and the two of you would finally talk about things. He just moved his soaking fingers up to your clit, your body jumping slightly at the sensitivity. 

“Wait-” 

“Shh, just take it.” He spoke low and moved back to where he was, starting again when you had barely started coming down. His declaration of making it up to you rung in your ears. How long was long enough to be considered even? You writhed with overstimulation as you thought about it. Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Your second orgasm hit you hard in the middle of your useless inquiries, and you realize it didn’t really matter.

You were in for a long fucking night regardless.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃❮𓁿❯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

tags: @mitsxuri @citarnosis @namgyunation (tagging you lovely folks because you all mentioned wanting more content. please let me know if you want your @ removed and i will do it ASAP <3)

[veren-cos]

Bachelors distracting you!

Stardew Valley Bachelors x reader

You need to get work done but they want your attention, and one way or another, they will get it :3

Not proofread, and not very cohesive between characters. Tried to keep it Canon. May or may not have succeeded.

Sam

"No, babe, a new season just started I have to get going on my crops!"

• Would definitely pout and try and hold your hand to prevent you from leaving the house

• As you got out your money and some leftover seeds from last year, he would (not so sneakily) get out his guitar

• He would then start playing a brand new song for you

• Like. Has been saving it for something, and it wasn't quite done, but he just had to get you to stay!

• Then when you tried asking him about it, he would say "no, I'm sorry, I have to work on this song more!"

• Basically mocking you from earlier saying you had to work haha

• This would successfully get you for like an hour, it makes him happy.

Alex

You were bustling around town, and he wanted you to talk to him, even if just for a bit!

• As soon as he saw you enter town he started lifting weights.

• And the more he saw you enter and leave buildings he started using heavier ones, trying to get you to think he is soooooo impressive.

• Eventually when you come to his house BUT DONT TALK TO HIM (how dare you/j) he does that jock boy thing where he wipes his sweat with his shirt

• A cocky bastard (affectionate) who just wants to see you flustered and pause for a second to admire him.

• Yeah. That definitely distracts you as you leave.

(God he is such a dude bro (affectionate-))

Sebastian

You were busy doing work around the farm, and he wanted attention but didn't want to outwardly bother your day.

• Ngl he would either work on his motorcycle purely because he knows you think it's hot, or he would play his synthesizer.

• Depends on how confident he is feeling that day, but he knows both of those need to be done eventually anyways!

• He rarely practices his synth, and knows it fascinates you.

• It's just so cool he knows how to play it!!

• If he works on his motorcycle, you just watch because you are trying to figure out what he is doing

• You want to be able to actually know what he is talking about when he tells you about it later!

• Either way, he knows he grabbed your attention for a little bit, and that's enough for him

• Definitely would not be up in your face about it tho, he is very low key about like. Everything-

Harvey

• Wouldn't try to distract you from your farming or anything

• Knows how important your job is

• Would however distract you from menial activities like reading or watching TV if you haven't given him enough attention that day

• Would start cooking

• Like something he knows you really like, but also smells so it would get your attention

• Also plays music. Like some early 2000s girly pop music. He loves that stuff but doesn't play it often because he thinks it's embarrassing he likes it (it isn't I love that shit)

• But yeah that grabs your attention from whatever you were doing

Shane

• Starts bringing the chickens outside of the coup!

• Knows you think they are cute

• And he knows you think he is cute when he is taking care of the animals

• Plus it's also practical for him to do animal stuff so you can farm

• But yeah he doesn't really want a lot of attention, just wants to see you smile for a bit!

Elliott

He just wanted to see your face stick around for a little longer! Didn't want you to go, even when he knew you had work to do.

• Would play his piano!

• Works like a charm because he always has something new

• You wonder when he has the time to practice new pieces all the time

• You sit next to him for a bit, leaning on his shoulder

• After he finishes the song, he let's you go back to whatever you were doing.

• He got in enough time with you for now, but he would make sure to get all of your attention later

An* I had like no ideas for Harvey and Shane. Sorry if they are kinda clunky- This was mostly inspired by my ideas for Sam and Alex, but this was fun to write!! Also, these lowkey make no sense, and they weren't proofread, so just take the concepts loosely and run with it! :)

Rasmodius, aka The Wizard (by request)

I imagine that this would be when you stopped by to visit him but had to leave to go work. Like y'all weren't living together.

• Would use magic!

• A silent spell that makes little illusions around the room.

• He is a little shy, so like Sebastian or Harvey, he wouldn't outright say anything.

• But he makes everything so pretty you can't help but stare for a while.

• The lights danced near the ceiling, a mirage of all your favorite colors

• He gets your attention for a while, and it keeps him content until he sees you again :3

Masterlist

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR★彡 PART 3

Previous. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes/language, tension

Summary: having Paige’s number means she can bother you whenever she wants, but maybe a night out with her isn’t a bother at all.

A/n: enjoy guys 😇lmk what you think of this one

YOU

is this paige?

???

Has anyone else given you their number since you got here?

YOU

no…

PAIGE

Aight, so who else would it be then? 🤘🏼

YOU

i should’ve thrown out that napkin tbh!🙂

PAIGE

Ignoring that. How’s the hangover?

YOU

it’s ok. getting coffee helped ig

PAIGE

Having another night out might help too…if u fw that

YOU

with you? id rather die then “fw that” 🙏

PAIGE

Ok rot in ya hotel room see if I care 🤷🏼‍♀️

Seen.

PAIGE

Actually nvm I feel bad for ur miserable ass. U shud fr go out and see what Connecticut has to offer. Ever been to Gianni’s?

YOU

no i haven’t, I’ve only been here for like two days. is it italian food?

PAIGE

Only the best in town 😉 u shud def go

YOU

ugh I would but i have to see if elaine can take me cus my teammates are busy

PAIGE

I could take u if u want?

YOU

typing…

YOU CAN FEEL yourself getting socially drained as you text her, at least that’s what you tell yourself. Paige is infuriating and arrogant, which comes with the deadly additions of charisma and the ability to keep you on edge with every word spoken, or even typed.

You’d always known of this, even before your game with her that day. A player like Paige can be hard to come across; perfectly capable, talented and independent yet somehow the best team player out there, sharing passes she can without a doubt make. Why? Because she doesn’t need to prove anything.

It often bothered you, especially since you constantly needed to prove yourself during the start of your college career. You took every shot you could get your hands on, and she gave shots away like candy whilst still having a huge reputation as a player. Obviously it went deeper than that, but the simple fact just stuck to your brain.

You can’t help but recall her face, inches from yours attempting to pry your ball from your grasp. Like she was deserving, like it was hers for the taking. She had made a similar face on the panel where she dissed you soon afterwards, and then again while watching you at the bar, and just before writing her number on the napkin. You wondered if she was making that face right now as she texts you.

PAIGE

I could take u if u want?

The text is simple but it summons some sort of unique feeling in you. Paige Bueckers is offering to pick you up in her car, on her night off, and take you to a restaurant. And you, for whatever reason, are considering saying yes.

Sighing to yourself, you weigh your options. Option one: you sit around your hotel alone till your teammates come back, most probably drunk from a bar since it’s a Saturday. Option two: you ask Elaine to take you out once again, even though you’re probably gonna see her the whole week you’re here. Option three: you let the girl who shit-talked you at a post game conference take you out for dinner.

YOU

i guess i should go out. DONT act like ur doing me a favour tho….n if I don’t have fun i’m blocking u.

PAIGE

Drop the addy. I’ll come by in an hour

Seen.

After hurriedly pulling yourself together, taking an Advil, checking out the restaurant’s Instagram and getting ready you can’t help but find your heart steadily hammering inside of you. Paige is coming to your hotel. You’re gonna be in her car. She’s taking you to her favourite restaurant. This has to be the most peculiar thing that has happened all year.

-

The car ride is significantly better then you expected it would be. Paige adamantly seems to prevent any room for awkward silence to seep through, commenting on your outfit and filling the vehicle with music that makes the interior buzz from the volume. She has a free look on her face, chair reclined more then you’d dare if you were in the drivers seat, hair blowing in her face from the windows being down.

“I’m surprised you’re driving me out.” You say, finally airing what was on your mind.

Paige shrugs. “Didn’t feel like drinking today. Plus, I’m in the mood to be generous and show you what Storrs has.”

“If someone told me I’d be hanging out with Paige Bueckers like a week ago, I think I’d be fucking appalled. Or disgusted. Or both.” You laugh.

She chuckles, glancing at you sneakily. “You swear a lot, don’t you?”

“Awe my bad.” You pout, giving her a fake-concerned look. “Forgot you can’t handle a little language.”

“I can handle it,” she grumbles. “I just think cursing is better for specific situations.”

“Like what?”

Paige wets her lips almost sheepishly, but she keeps her eyes straight on the road. “Like sex.”

A beat passes before you respond “Sorry I couldn’t savour a couple words for you and your little kink.”

She looks over at you now, and you meet her gaze as equally as you can. She just lets out a smile, shaking her head to herself as she pulls into the parking lot. You try to ignore the elevator-sinking feeling in your stomach from her words as you get out from the car.

The restaurant is beautiful. It’s cozy, ambient and well decorated. Not too fancy and not too full, just perfect. You’re seated in a more secluded area, per Paige’s request. She orders for you, insisting she knows exactly what to get for the best possible experience.

The food is good, and you don’t feel the need to hide it from Paige, who visibly grows at your praise for the place she picked out.

“So, are you jus in Connecticut for Elaine?” She says.

“Not really.” You reply. “Me and some of the others are just doing a little East Coast road-trip. I wasn’t really interested in coming to Storrs, but it made sense to come by and see her.”

“For a whole week?” She raises her eyebrow. “Seems like you’re close.”

“I was only gonna stay in Storrs for a couple days, then go to Hartford but the girls seem to like it here.” You shrug. “They think it’s cute, being a small town and all, but it’s pretty boring if you’re not a student.”

“It’s better if you’re with fun people.” She smiles.

“I hope you don’t think you’re fun.”

“Compared to Elaine I definitely am.” Paige scoffs.

You can’t help but feel a little more hostility than humour in her tone.

“Do you guys know each other?” You ask, as sly and innocent as you can muster. Paige seems hesitant.

“Nah.” She finally decides. “I mean, we’ve talked before. Ion know her personally.”

“It’s kinda funny, she said she doesn’t pay much attention to you but I think she might have a little crush.” You laugh.

Paige visibly stiffens at this, which catches you by surprise.

In a split second she regains her calm, unbothered composure. “What has she said?”

“Not much.” You shrug. “Just seems a little interested.”

Paige’s jaw clenches for a moment, and you’re not surprised when she changes the subject. “How many people have been on your case since I posted that picture of us from the bar on my story?”

“God, so many.” You laugh, shaking your head. “You?”

“You don’t even wanna know.” She scoffs. “Not sure why everyone was so crazy bout it though, s’not like we were beefing for real.”

“Right!” You say, happy she seems to be on the same page. “It was just some petty crap. I guess people just really were hoping there would be some rivalry.”

You think for a moment, before saying. “Maybe we should keep this drama thing up. Might be fun.”

“It’s a lil too late for that,” Paige shakes her head with a slight smile. “remember how KK and Ice were on live yesterday at the coffee shop? Yeah, we kinda were in the background at some point. People saw us talking.”

“You’re joking.”

“Dead serious. There are edits and everything.”

You rest your head in your hands, elbows on the table, lessening the proximity between you and her. “I only get into these weird ass situations when I interact with you, Paige.”

She sits up in her seat, blue eyes quickly looking you up and down. “Yet you’re still here.”

“Girl’s gotta have fun.” You shrug. Her foot hits yours under the table, her eyebrow raised as if challenging you. You have a sudden thought of going under the table and letting your hands unzip her cargo pants, but instead you just kick her back.

“Wanna go?” She asks. You don’t want to go back to the hotel, and she seems to pick up on it. “The area we’re in is nice. We can walk around a bit.”

You smile and nod. “Split the bill?”

“Fuck no.” She shoots you a look, pulling out her credit card from the back of her phone.

“You cursed!” You exclaim, to which she scoffs.

“I said it’s alright in specific situations.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Well we’re not having sex, are we?”

The way her eyelashes flutter at your question gives you jitters. “Aight, stop talking.” She finally manages to respond. You just send her a look that you hope makes her nervous.

-

“You’re not funny.” She grumbles, attempting to grab your phone from you.

“Back off, Bueckers! I’m serious.” You laugh, sidestepping her with your phone above your head. The street was empty and the lights were on, putting the two of you in a yellow glow against the night. You’d been walking around the neighbourhood, observing houses and learning a bit about Storrs for the past hour.

“Give me your phone, I know you ain’t deleting those.” She huffs, grabbing for your phone. You try to escape her grasp but she’s got longer limbs, so eventually your phone is in her pocket and she’s wearing a proud look on her face.

It’s nice to walk in the quiet of evening, her beside you. You have no idea where you are but you can’t help but trust she can get you back to the car in no time. Not just yet though.

You turn to look at Paige almost shamelessly. There’s just so much to observe with her. Her confident posture, toothy smile, sleek straightened blonde hair, even the baggy cargo pants and sweater. She always looked good, it never failed to annoy you.

“Either your pants are too tight or crazy baggy.” You note. She just raises her eyebrow.

“Sounds like you just want me to take my pants off at this point.”

“Wouldn’t mind a little show.” You reply almost instantly, shocking yourself at the surge of confidence. She doesn’t seem taken aback, in fact she’s intrigued.

“Is that your usual routine? Have a meal out then have a meal at home?”

“Maybe it is.” You shrug. “I never object to a wine n dine.”

“And what exactly would you object to?”

“Cocky girls who think they’re the shit.” You say, turning your head to face her. You don’t mean to target her, but she simply smiles.

“Is it really being cocky if I can back it up though?” Paige asks quietly. You’re not walking anymore, stuck in place on an empty path between buildings. She’s closing in on you until your back hits a brick wall. The way Paige is staring down at you, hands in her pockets, lip between her teeth. It’s nothing you’d object to, ever.

“I won’t believe it till I see it.” You mutter, holding her eye. The air is tense in a new way that you haven’t felt with her since you first met in the bar. Her face is entrancing.

Paige’s hands lift your jaw upwards, and she leans into your ear. “You might not see it,” she mumbles, breath hot against your skin. “But you’ll definitely feel it.”

When she pulls back from your ear she stays hovering just above you, hands chastely holding your head up. You’re in the perfect position to kiss, and you can’t stop your eyes from darting between her electric stare to her lush, pink lips.

You can literally feel her breath on your mouth when a piercing ring cuts through the moment. It’s coming from her pocket, and she pulls out your phone. Paige’s face twists as she reads the screen. “It’s Elaine.”

“Just- just decline it.” You rush out, not caring how desperate you sound. You can feel how wet you are, and the lack of heat against you is blaring.

“She texted you too.” Paige scoffs. “She’s waiting for you at your hotel.”

You don’t even know what to say. Paige’s face is expressionless. You’re disappointed, but there’s no point in begging. Nothing really happened.

“Let’s get you home.” She says, starting to walk back from where you came. “Shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Her tone is dripping with toxicity. It makes you shiver.

[creepswrites]

Hi, I just read your hcs about reader struggling with anxiety and depression, it was really great! I am also sorry you're going through tough times rn, I really really hope you'll feel better soon. Tbh I've been going through something myself and reading the Sinclair brothers' hcs, it reminded me of an idea I've wanted to eequest for a long while. I would like to request for the Siclair brothers (separately) x gn!reader headcanons where the reader struggles with mental health issues, but since they don't really leave Ambrose they can't get to their medication. How would they approach the brothers about it, would they hide it, how would the brothers react, you know.

Of course you can work on this when you feel like it, if you're not feeling like it with what's going on in your life. Or scrap the idea altogether, or add whoever you want. Thank you so much for letting me get my thoughts out tho <3 You are valid. You are loved. You are seen.

thank you for the kind wishes, i do appreciate it :) i tried to keep this relatively inclusive as to what exactly reader is suffering from but some stuff may be a lil specific. and don't worry, writing helps distract me so i'm happy to do this <3

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN! READER WHO NEEDS THEIR MEDICATION

BO SINCLAIR

You absolutely tried to hide it at first. How could you not?

Bo wasn't exactly... understanding about that kind of thing

I mean, you've seen how he acts with Vincent sometimes and thats his own brother. You don't want to imagine how he'd treat you if he knew...

But you knew the longer you went without your prescriptions, the more difficult things would get

It started small. Your moods would change randomly and very drastically - one extreme to another or you'd have trouble sleeping or oversleeping or - your least favorite - you'd lash out at one of the brothers for seemingly nothing

Bo noticed. He didn't say anything about it because he assumed that, if it was that important, you'd tell him

So when you had a full on meltdown on the kitchen floor one afternoon, he was blindsided

He had no idea it'd gotten this bad and, unfortunately, his first reaction was to get mad at you. He yelled at you, tried to get you to pull yourself together. After all, if you had been suffering, you would've told him! Right...?

It's not until your crying abruptly stops that he realizes he fucked up. You shut down on him, near catatonic as he tries to apologize

He's scared. And when he's scared, he lashes out. You know that. It still doesn't make it hurt less

The brothers agree that there needs to be regular trips made so you can get your medication. Lester offers to take you since he's the one who goes to town the most anyways

You and Bo get into an argument about it once or twice because he doesn't understand why you wouldn't tell him

His heart breaks a little when you tell him you didn't think he'd believe you or would look at you differently for it

He reassures you that no, never. He totally understands the moodswings, the angry episodes you have, those things

Once you're on your meds again, you two promise that if anything major like this happens for either of you, that you can always lean on each other

Bo takes time getting there but he grows to understand you and figure out how best to help you!

VINCENT SINCLAIR

You tell Vincent pretty early on that you need medication

While you don't give him many specifics as to why, you tell him that life will be better for all of you if you keep taking them

At first he's a little apprehensive of letting you go into town so Bo goes with you to pick it up

Not because he doesn't believe you! But because he's scared you're still trying to escape

He wants to know what they're for so he's not above snooping around to read the labels

(You'd tell him if he asked but he didn't know that)

The amount you take surprises him and he tries to think about what you're like off them, in a morbidly curious way

He is, however, insistent that you're taking them consistently and without interruption. Vince makes sure you take them every day and gets on his brother's cases if they give you a hard time about it

They're not cures though. You both find that out the hard way when he finds you trembling in the corner of his shop like you were in freezing weather. The panic attack was violent and took you by surprise but Vincent holds steady

He sits with you, humming soft melodies to try and ground you

When you're ready, he hugs you and you just break down into tears. You'd never wanted him to have to see you like this, you don't want him to think you're some fragile china doll who can't take care of themself

But he would never see you like that. You explain that, while the meds make them less frequent, you're not cured completely

Things will slip through the cracks sometimes and that's okay! He'll always be there when you need him

When he catches you scratching yourself anxiously, he buys you gloves and makes sure you keep your nails short

He catches you picking at your face and gets you small bandages you can place over the spots so you don't obsessively pick

Vincent is always doing little things to try and improve your quality of life, even if you're taking medication!

LESTER SINCLAIR

You don't really tell him but you also don't hide it from him either

He notices you taking pills every morning and every night and is able to put two and two together

Probably asks you what they're for once you two have been dating for a bit but it doesn't really change much in your relationship

He's relatively chill about it though and offers to take you into town to pick up your meds

Likes to hoard pills for you so you never run out - it's an irrational fear of his but you think its sweet

Whenever you get sad, Jonesy and Lester are both right there to comfort you however you need

Sometimes, when the bad thoughts get too loud, Lester catches you staring vacantly into the bathroom mirror or out windows and he worries

One night you wandered out into the woods, barefoot and freezing, just because you felt so out of touch with your own body

Everything felt fake and floaty and you just needed to be out somewhere harsh and grounding and real

You love Lester, you really do, but there, in the forest all alone, all you could think about was how empty you felt

He finds you early the next morning and he was clearly worried sick, still in his sleep clothes with just a flashlight and an anxious Jonesy

Once at home and warm from your shower, he pleads with you to talk to him about it

You finally spill about how you've felt completely dissociated from yourself, even with all the meds you're taking, and it just got to be too much

He gives you a hug and you both agree to try and find other ways to shock you back to reality that don't involve you wandering into the forest at night

Turns out, an ice cube on the back of the neck works wonders to snap you out of whatever stupor you've found yourself in!

Lester is as involved with it as you'd let him. Never ashamed or afraid to lend you a hand with anything!

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Nightly banter

Warning ⚠️; Blood and bad jokes

Pairing; Ghostface x gn!Reader

Summary; It is almost the Devil’a hour when you get a phone call. You know who it is and if this is to be yours last night, then you’ll make your caller work for it.

Note; I am currently sick with the flu and pretty high on meds so hopefully I didn't correct like shit. Sorry if I did :(

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in your living room you enjoyed a good horror movie. The bowl of popcorn and potato chips on your lap was getting lighter with each minute that passed. You chuckled, knowing that movie by heart and whispering the quotes as they came. The jump scares didn't affect you anymore even tho you still appreciated them. Your eyes turned to the clock and realized it would soon be 3:00 in the morning. The Devil’s Hour.

And what a crazy time it was lately. The town was plagued by a series of murder featuring the sadly known Ghostface of Woodsboro, California. You grew up there as a kid and moved away to here. As an adult you didn't leave, yet, but with all those murders? Might be safer to take a plane to somewhere else.

You chuckled at the thought and shook your head.

Nah. You didn’t really fit any criteria to become the victim in a horror movie. Quite the contrary in fact. You lived a quiet life and enjoyed the calm that came with being in a small town. Well, maybe enjoying horror wasn't smart for the moment.

And you were careful; locking doors and windows and always keeping your best friend the blinky with you. While you weren't usually one for firearms, you did get one after the first murder. It was safer this way. While not wanting to give in to the paranoia, you also knew it wasn't worth the risk of staying harmless.

Your phone rang, stopping you from shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth. You eyed the phone, wondering if you should answer or not. The caller was masked, and the number not showing and a shiver ran down your spine.

It could be anyone.

The killer.

Or kids wanting to make a prank.

With a shaky finger, you answered your phone, pressing it against your ear as you said as soft “Hello.”

- “Hello.” The voice of the caller replied. There is something sickly sweet about it. “Who is this?”

- “Who are you trying to reach?” You asked back, frowning as you get up to make sure all the doors and windows are locked.

- “What number is this?”

This time you freeze in your track, a shiver running down your spine. The conversation sound familiar. Too familiar. A feeling of dread fill your heart and you hold your phone tighter deciding to keep going, just to make sure.

- “Well, what number are you trying to reach?” You tried to keep the shaking of your voice discreet, but you are bad at it.

- “I don't know.”

You can hear the amusement in the other's voice, can almost imagine the smirk and hope this is a prank.

- “I think you have the wrong number.” Your voice has an edge to it now. You only want to cut the conversation short.

- “Do I?”

- “It happens. Take it easy.”

Enough is enough. This prank had lasted for too long already and you could feel your hand shaking. You stare at your phone, ready to hang up but the voice keeps talking.

- “You still haven't told me your name.”

- “Why do you want to know my name?”

- “Because I want to know who I'm looking at.”

The answer almost made you drop your phone. You looked around you frantically, trying to get a glimpse of where the fucker was. But all your curtains were closed.

- “What do you want?” You asked, returning to the sofa to grab your gun.

You heard the caller, Ghostface chuckling on the other side of the line. You wanted to throw the phone away and smash it in the wall. There was no way…

You clenched your jaws deciding that if this was real… you were going to make the fucker work for it. You'll be his nightmare and make him regret picking you for his next victim.

- “What do you want?” You asked again, slightly raising your voice.

- “To see what your insides look like.”

- “That sound kinky.”

- “What?”

You hit your head with the barrel of your gun, cringing at what you just said. It came out without you thinking about it. At least the killer sounded astonished, not expecting you to say something so… so… yeah. You decided to roll with it. At least you would die making fun of him.

- “You heard me, you kinky bastard. At least you could offer me a drink before wanting to jump to see my insides. For what do you take me? A harlot?”

- “Listen here you bitch…”

- “Oh, now I am the bitch?” You interrupted him, walking around your house and still making sure everything was locked. “Yet you are the one thirsting over my guts.”

You felt pride as the killer fell silent, as if he didn't know what to reply. Almost. Almost because you knew he was probably pissed off at you and God knew what he would do now. You weren't wrong, however. That fucker really was a kinky creep.

Walking around your house, you made sure everything was still locked. The killer wasn't talking anymore, but you could still hear his breathing. You hated the silence. It felt like a knife being held above your head, ready to fall and stab you.

- “You think yourself funny, don't you?”

Ghostface’s voice almost made you jump out if your skin. You didn't expect him to talk so suddenly nor to have such a cold voice.

- “Yeah, I am.” you replied with a chuckle, moving the curtain of the last window you checked. You saw a silhouette standing next to a tree. “I see you there, Micheal Myers wanna be.”

- “I see you too, future victim.”

You saw the silhouette waving at you and snorted. He could have at least given you a better surname than that!

You jumped away from the window as you saw the silhouette sprinting toward you. Raising your gun, you were ready to shoot the second the killer tried to touch the window. But instead of the sound of glass breaking, you heard something hit it followed by a loud thud. Moving the curtain again and looking toward the ground, you found the killer lying down. On the phone, you heard him groaning in pain.

It didn't take long for you to understand what just happened and you couldn't resist but laugh. All fear had left your body as you realized just how clumsy he was. Did he step on his dress? Did he stumble over a root?

- “S-shut up!” You heard the Killer’s voice growling on the phone.

But you didn't stop.

You fell on your ass laughing, holding your ribs for a few more minutes before putting the phone back to your hear.

- “Go home mister killer, you are drunk.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe stop at the hospital first, you might have a concussion.”

- “Fuck you!”

- “Fuck me yourself, clumsy boy.”

You heard him cursing at you and you only replied by making kissing sounds. You sighed as the killer hung up on you and there were no more sounds. You closed your eyes, pressing your back against the wall and waiting for something, anything.

But he was gone. Humiliated by his own clumsiness, he had left you. Hands shaking, you laughed again, this time nervously. Guess you were going to be in his sequel if he survived until then.

[soggyriceee]

its me again.💞

tysm for answerjng my other rq 🤭

PLS A PART 3 TO "RED HANDED",

BUT.

konig or reader takes an aphrodisac and ends up fucking another person. DRAMAAA

u dont have to do this obvs MAKE SURE U GET SM REST GIRL ILY

i’m sorry | konig

(pretty dark theme here, Konig is getting taken advantage of *cough cough r@pe*)

König was a very loyal man. he believed in traditional roles, he as the man is supposed to take care of you. he never wanted you to work another day in your life, especially not when you were both trying for a baby.

you envisioned the rest of your life with this man, and he did too. but who would think that one party, one too many drinks, would end you guys' relationship?

"im so sorry libe please-" he cried, for every piece of clothing you put in the suitcase he took out. it began to really annoy you.

"Konig!" you screamed at him. never in your relationship had you seen him so weak, frail. vulnerable. he was a tough guy and always kept a brave, stern face. but tonight was far different.

a work trip for Konig was normal. but this time it was at least close to home. and by close to home, he was only 45 minuets from the house. you expected to see him later that night and waited for him, holding the positive pregnancy test close. after 4 months of trying you finally got a positive.

but while you were ay home, thinking of him and the new life you were both about to start, Konig was plunging his cock into some random woman.

"s-so wet.. " he slurred, his eyes closed, head thrown back. he had no clue who this woman was. in fact, he wasn't entirely sure where he was even at. but the woman in his lap did.

his boss, the same boss you've told him many times makes you feel uncomfortable. she never was shy about her attraction to your man, it was like she got off on him being with another woman. Konig didn't per se ignore your concerns tho, he just knew that this job was the best job he could find to support you both.

"and it all yours.." she moaned out, feeling her orgasm building up quickly.

she had no shame really, slipping his drink like that. it was too easy, she told herself mentally, as if he wanted it to happen. and as soon as Konig got sloppy, she offered to take him home.

thats how she got him. she wasted no time taking advantage of his body, sliding his pants off while her shirt was already on the car floor. it didn't help that the woman had dyed her hair to match yours, trying to get him psychologically. she knew if he was just so drunk, so out of it, he would prob think he was fucking you.

"go on Koni .. fill me up .. get me pregnant" she cooed into his ear, bouncing slowly up and down his cock. "you want my babies angel?" he whimpered, still unable to even open his eyes.

Konig came in the woman twice that night, both times calling out your name. and by the time she had finished on his cock, she was already taking her phone. she sent him a picture of him laying on his chest, while his face was barely even in the photo.

and thats how you figured out.

Konig had a work phone and iPad, reasonably he left his iPad home. he let you use it, mainly for Netflix or Hulu. so when it dinged you naturally went to go check who it was.

when you saw it was his boss you hesitated, didn't want to be insecure or jealous. but something told you to look at the message and when you did, it felt like the whole world stopped. like all the oxygen in the world got sucked up, leaving you genuinely breathless.

König didnt return home that night, only validating that it wasn't a mis-send, he really fucked his boss. you spent that night crying your eyes out, looking for hotels to stay at while you looked for a new apartment, preferably out of this town. you both had spent 2 years together, so for it to be thrown away on a night of fun hurt you. but you didn't know what had happened to Konig. hell he barely knew when he woke up the next morning.

"you have to believe me I-i dont remember going back to her house, I don't remember having sex w-with her" he cried, feeling the urge to once again throw up. he was sick, he couldn't believe something like this had happened.

but you remained silent, packing your things despite Konig undoing it all. you ignored him so much so, he physically turned you around, and shoved you against the wall. his eyes were red, his chest heaved up and down heavily. "im telling you I dont remember anything!" he yelled, for the first time, at you.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, before finally meeting his gaze. "im pregnant Konig. but right now, I think that this baby shouldn't be brought into this world when this is our relationship right now." you said flat.

"y-your pregnant?"

you pushed off him, grabbing the pile of clothes on the floor, and your suitcase. "I need a break I need space. this .. this is too much." you continued, shoving the clothes in successfully, before closing it. Konig remained still, unable to move, to feel his legs.

you grabbed the lat of your necessities before walking out the door, and ignoring all his calls, and messages for the rest of the day. despite your tough woman show you gave earlier, you were hurt. and as soon as you got to the hotel you bawled your eye out, debating and questioning if he truly didn't remember what had happened to him last night, or if he was lying. you didn't know, and it was making you crazy

thank you for your request kookie butt, I really enjoy a good smutty angst

[starlostastronaut]

SUNSETS AND BUCKET LISTS

han jisung × reader - fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au - 1.8k

summary - spending your last day with your best friend before school should be sad, but this time it took an unexpected turn

cw - use of yn?

links - masterlist

so! i'm almost late but, still made it in time. i guess you could call this ji's bday fic (tho there will be more sunshine twins content coming soon), but most importantly, happy birthday katsy!! ( @catiuskaa ) this one is for you <3333

and shout out to my mars who saved me several times writing this. not proofread and idk what is that ending, but i hope you like it! <3

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Jisung whispered into your ear, his hot breath spilling over your skin, making you shiver and instantly startling you awake. Or mostly awake. Still half asleep, your brain only registered that someone is in very close proximity to you and we do not like that, before your hand tightened on your plushie and you whacked Jisung in the face.

“Ow, what’s that for?” he whined, dramatically holding his palm to the right side of his face. His mischievous grin was replaced by a scowl and he looked at you like you just stole his dog, not simply hit him with a stuffed cat. With your consciousness finally catching up to speed, you realized that it was not an alien coming to abduct you, but it was Han Jisung, your best friend since you were three years old. And he carried the title proudly, always mentioning your sixteen years long friendship to anyone who (did not) care.

“Sorry, Ji, oh my god!” You swiftly rose up on the bed, it was a miracle your head didn't collide with Jisung's as well. “I thought you were, I don't know, a pervert or something.”

“YN,” Jisung sighed. “It's literally just us two and our parents. There's a security system in the house. How would a pervert even get in?”

He was right. Growing up in the same town, just three houses away, your families have known each other very well. It was a tradition that started when you and Jisung were old enough to travel and actually understand a vacation. Your families always rented out the same beach house to spend the last two weeks of summer holiday together.

By now, you knew the place front to back, being able to move around while blinded and you would be just fine. So Jisung was right, but you couldn’t possibly let him have the win so easily.

“I don't know,” you shrugged. “They always find a way?” Jisung gave you an unimpressed look. “Okay, okay. But it's still your fault. You shouldn't have woken me up like a creep.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Jisung rolled his eyes and grabbed your hands, quite literally dragging out of bed and out of the warm comfort of the covers. You hissed and a shiver ran over your skin as your, due to the summer heat barely clothed, body made contact with the cold floor. “Come on, get up, we have so much stuff to do!”

Jisung let go of your hands, bouncing around happily. You shook your head, amazed at the amount of energy he had so early in the morning. Had he eaten just sugar for breakfast?

You slowly stood up, rummaging through the closet for some clothes. “Turn around at least, perv,” you laughed, smacking him over his chest with a shirt. Jisung laughed, but left the room, giving you privacy to change. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you put on the first shorts and shirt you found. It's not like you were going to meet many people so who cares, right? On your way out you grabbed a hoodie too. The summer was in fact nearing its end and the mornings were often chilly. And knowing Jisung, you will have breakfast outside.

As per your prediction, the small outside table was full of food, with Jisung impatiently waiting for you, bouncing his leg and playing with a fork.

After a quick breakfast, Jisung shared his plan for the day. You listen in disbelief, wondering how he wanted to fit all of that into one day. Despite your doubts, you were going to do everything for it to happen though.

This was your last day together. In pursuit of your respective dreams, you and Jisung not only attended different universities, but in different cities too and the distance made it even harder. In order to visit each other, you would have to spend several hours traveling, and that was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You tried, but then a test came up, or a friend's birthday party or Jisung was sick… After three months you gave up trying, resigning to seeing your best friend on Christmas and summer only.

It was hard enough to leave him last year, but you called each other a lot. In the beginning that was. Once you got your bearings and university properly started, you were often so exhausted you fell asleep on the video call. Or didn't call at all, because Jisung forgot to charge his phone in the whirlwind of classes and deadlines.

You never knew it was possible to miss someone so much. Being without Jisung felt like someone was slowly tearing off your limbs. And when you saw him at Christmas, it felt like the puzzle finally found its missing piece. A week later, in your dorm room with friends and soju, some revelations were had, but by the time summer came around, your mind was in a completely different place.

And this time, knowing what kind of year you were up against, letting go of Jisung for another several months suddenly felt impossible. Knowing this shared vacation was coming, both you and Jisung made a list of activities to do and places nearby to visit. But with how excited you both were, you put off checking boxes in favour of lazing around, watching anime, going to the pool and talking for hours.

So there you were, left with a list impossible to complete by the end of today. Yet nothing would deter you from trying.

“I think I'm actually gonna die.” You fell onto your towel, lying motionlessly on the beach. Not even having enough energy to watch the sunset, which you would have taken countless pics of any other day.

By some miracle, you managed to complete Jisung's entire checklist for the day, which left you completely exhausted. You were seriously thinking of asking Jisung to carry you back, because unlike you, he seemed as if powered by the air he breathed - he hadn't run out of energy the whole day.

“Noo, you can't die yet. We still have to check off the paddleboard at the sea,” Jisung said. And there it was, he actually brought the paddleboard down to the beach. You saw it lying next to your things when you sat back up.

“Ji, seriously?” you laughed. “You can't swim? And it's dark.” The idea seemed a little funny and a whole lot crazy. It was one thing to be at the pool, where there was a bottom and a limited amount of water. To go to the wild, open sea, in the dark, and tired after the whole day? k

“Actually… I can. Kinda. Lix taught me,” Jisung admitted. You knew who he was talking about, Jisung wouldn't shut up about his roommate and new best friend Felix, he actually mentioned him in about every conversation he could. It was kind of cute actually. You were worried Jisung would struggle, being an introvert with social anxiety, but Felix waltzed into his life and saved him for you.

“Okay…” Felix teaching him solved one problem at least. But you still didn't feel like it was a good idea. “Ji, do we have to? What if something happens? We're tired, we're alone here…”

Jisung’s shoulders slumped. “Right, yeah you're right. I just had this plan and I wanted to… nevermind.”

That wasn't fair. Now you felt bad. God, why was Jisung so cute? “Maybe we could… I don't know. Put it just by the shore and sit on it?” you suggested, wanting to make Jisung happy. You would do anything to make him happy, even go out on the sea when you thought about it.

Alone together on the beach, the sun setting over the water, the atmosphere was romantic. And thought your brain, because all your feelings that you pushed aside to focus on quality time with Jisung, now came rushing back all at once.

Jisung's face lit up. “Yeah, we can do that. I guess it counts as completing.” You helped Jisung push the paddleboard just behind the first waves, sitting on it with your feet in the water, still in the safe distance to the shore.

You looked over the horizon, the sun reflecting on the water begging to be photographed. “Selca?” you asked. Jisung nodded and leaned closer, posing for the low quality picture. With barely any natural light left, the photo was bound to be blurry and dark, but you always liked that kind of aesthetic anyway.

Feeling daring in the moment, you pressed your lips to Jisung's cheek. Barely, just a few seconds, but enough to capture on your phone.

“YN…” Jisung whispered. If it wasn't so dark, you would see the pink dusting his face.

“Sorry, I just… I just had to,” you said. What did you have to lose anyway? You were leaving tomorrow morning and wouldn't see Jisung for another few months. “I had to know what it feels like,” you whispered.

Jisung lowered his gaze, choosing to look at the waves rather than looking at you. Somehow, the silence was scarier than a rejection of your implied confession.

“Say something Ji, please,” you begged, not knowing how to bear the crushing weight of the silence anymore. You feared what message it carried.

“You crossed the last box for me.”

Before you could ask what it meant, Jisung took out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to you. His checklist of activities for the vacation. When you unfolded the small ball of paper, your eyes skimmed over the completed activities, all the way to the last one.

Kiss YN in some super romantic moment.

“I planned to tell you,” Jisung spoke up. “How I feel. I guess you beat me to it.” He lifted his head to look at you. “I did understand it correctly, right? It wasn't a platonic friend kiss, because Felix sometimes gives me those and if it was then forget everything I said because-”

You surged forward, interrupting his rambling with your lips on his. It was a wonder you didn't fall off the paddleboard, with how much force was used. You felt him freeze and smile, as he slowly kissed you back, overcoming the initial shock and surprise.

And you kissed, until there was no sun in the sky and your parents had to go look at why you took so long. That night, you laid in Jisung's bed, making promises and wishes for the upcoming year, already making plans, determined to not give up this time.

Somehow, coming back to campus and the insanity your university could be sometimes, wasn't as hard as it was last year. This time around, you had something new to look forward to in the darkest moments of endless texts and assignments. You had a boyfriend and a promise to keep. No giving up this time. And you both dutifuly kept it.

Jisungie <3

still alive after that test?

YN <3

barely

i'm dead inside and lonely

my roommate's out this weekend on a family thing

leaving me all alone in this dorm

Jisungie <3

good thing i have no classes this friday

see you then ynnie <3

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[voidcat]

For the physical affection prompts. Secret option 16 childe being my heat pack while I whine and cry about stomach cramps

For real tho 7 and childe <3 I miss my manic pixie soldier boy

7. brushing their arm against the other's, hoping the other would finally catch their arm and hold it close

Kithkith

eheheheheh hope u like this one love<3 sending u kisses love u and this idiot ginger big time<3

characters: childe/gn!reader & wc: 1.2k

synopsis: on a long journey across schneznaya with no means to transport other than by foot, you and the peculiar ginger have grown closer with each step of the way.

The sun hangs high in the air, barely any rays glistening. It’s a clear day today, sharp but not as cold as the passing months.

Spring is coming. The thought brings a slight smile to your lips.

On the endless carpet of white and diamonds, it’s meters and meters of snow for the eye to see- no houses, no sign of smoke rising in the air. To your left, you can spot a blurry spot, possibly the woods you were informed of few nights ago.

Feet fall and rise from the snow in rhythmic movements and you try to keep up. Schneznaya was known for notorious weather conditions but you hadn’t expected it to be this much. Still, you’d like to think you’re doing an alright job of adjusting so far. The man ahead of you had voiced something similar a while ago, so you must’ve been. It’s only the warmth of hope and his smile that keeps your racing mind company when the snow gets thick and you’re forced to walk in his steps- literally.

Long gray frame and a red scarf that often dangles in the air, you watch Childe’s back for the remainder of the walk. Sink and rise, sink and rise again, you carry on with difficulty less than you had days before. Eyes fixed on the patterns of his coat and delicate engravings sewn onto his scarf, you don’t realize you’ve come to a halt until your face hits the back of his form. Before you can fall however, Childe turns and catches you in his arms, stabilizing you, his gaze concentrated on you.

With a cough, you turn your head to the side, stammering a string of apologies- all more clumsy than the previous one. Better than to stare into those big, blue endless eyes, you think. 

Hearing titles of respect and status, he snaps out of it too and chuckles. “I told you! Just call me Childe, no need for formalities here.”

In moments his eyes doesn’t pull you into this deep, sinking haze of something tragic, inevitable approaching; it’s his laughter that spreads like a virus, makes you want to join him.

“A-alright… Childe.” you test the name, again and face him once more.

Painfully aware of his hands still on your arms, you cough, a cloud of steam leaving your lips. “Umm, I’m better now. We can keep walking.”

Your words are met with a puzzled expression until he follows your line of sight and quickly pulls his hands back to himself, chuckling a ‘sorry’ along the way.

You take a step forward then pause- seeing as he won’t budge at all, face turned somewhere else.

Sensing movement from your side, Childe returns his attention to you, expression clearly showing he realized he forgot to tell you something.

“So?..” you drag the word, expecting him to follow up when he falls silent again. Seeming to think, he then steps to the side and reveals motion and a dash of color in the distance. A sign of life in this endless land of snow, at last.

“I was going to say, we can take a break soon and find some carriage for the remainder of the road.” Taking another step to the side, he reaches out his hand, signaling you to follow along. The layer of snow begins to thin down so it’s easier to walk by his side.

He slows down to match your pace and begins talking, filled with a sudden beam of energy, hand gestures here and there, gaze never landing on somewhere for longer than five seconds.

He begins with the town you’re nearing but the name goes over your head. He recalls memories then, says there’s a lake nearby this town, like his- but this one’s more ideal for skating he says. Have you ever done ice skating? It’s fun! He could teach you if you want. He talks and talks, his youthful chatter filling the air and warming you in the process. In the blinding brightness of snow, he shines brighter.

With nods and occasional questions to show you’re listening, you continue walking as you look around. Seeing as there isn’t much to see yet- and the town still being too far away to spot anything regarding architecture, you focus on the familiar brush of fabric.

When your arm brushes against his the first time, it’s completely accidental.

But it feels nice, somehow.

Then you brush your arm again and you swear you can feel some of his warmth transferred through the thick layers of clothes. Maybe you’re just making excuses for something bigger, maybe after walking in his steps, in his shadow, in his warmth for so long, you’re seeking something physical again.

It shortly falls into routine without realization. Between occasional brushes and Childe’s voice filling the air, reminiscing his childhood as you let out hums and oohs, you’re snapped out of your bubble when you feel a sudden thug at your side, letting out a yelp in the process.

It takes you few deep breaths and a few more seconds to register what has happened. Pulling out our foot now tilted and drowning in the snow, you fix your posture somewhat, then turn to the source of the sudden force.

Ready to let a thousand complaints out of your mouth about the safety regulations, snow, frozen roads and whatnot; you find yourself frozen at the sight of a sheepish Childe with an apologetic expression adorning his features. Eyes wide open, you feel like a deer face to face with light sources of hunters- less of fear and more for a loss of words, emotions, a functional brain activity even.

Scratching the back of his head with his free hand, Childe laughs at the face you’re making.

“Sorry for not giving you a heads up.” he says like all he did was take off your hat or cause a loud noise– and not pull you to his side mid step while hooking arms with you.

“Figured walking like that would be better.” he follows up with a shrug, saying it as a state of fact. Sure, like you weren’t advised to avoid any and every movement that’d disturb your balance or make it dependent on someone else’s prior to this journey countless times.

The town in closer view, you can hear the sounds of people if you were to focus– instead, you just nod and loosen your arm. Offering Childe the opportunity to take his arm back then offer it to you, properly.

Placing your hand below his elbow, you hold his arm close to you, placing your free hand on top of your hand there, locking yourself to him completely.

Seeming pleased with your settlement, he lets out a content hum and turns his gaze ahead, “Shall we?” he says.

It is much slower to walk like that, inefficient and with one step taken without care, the two of you will fall like domino tiles, clustered into one big snow ball. But you cannot deny the warmth that comes with the close proximity. He must be thinking the same, layers of clothes or not, you can feel Childe’s posture relax under your touch, his voice falling into a gentler volume, there’s a melancholic tone to it as he talks less about memories of his and more of the people- be it old traditions or just gestures blooming into such, all sourced from care and love. 

Arm tightening around his, you lean your cheek against his arm and Childe’s faint voice soon murmurs an old tune as the two of you continue to walk, amidst the pure snow and few snowdrops greeting you long before anyone else does.

[fuqnia]

SP Main Four + butters !College AU Headcanons

[☆] A/N | hii guys! i recently hit 500 likes on tumblr and i'm like so speechless... i never wouldve thought people would be interested in reading my stupid little writing hehe, so tysm! my long fic, most wanted, is coming to a close soon, and I have been working on another longfic that's a fem!reader insert x main 4 boys in college!

[☆] C/W | slight nsfw in kenny's

[☆] check out my relationship college au headcanons for the boys + butters here! it's sfw and nsfw <3

☆ stan marsh

environmental science major

i think he would have like around a 2.5 - 2.9 gpa

uses a laptop to take notes

surprisingly has decent notes

gets on wordle, geo guesser, quordle, WAFFLE, during lectures if he gets bored

struggles with hangovers, yet still goes to classes sometimes

i don't think he truly notices how much he drinks... it kinda just happens ?

doesn't mind college parties, will go if his friends want to

kyle usually has to carry him back to their shared dorm when he does go tho LOL

volunteers at the town's animal shelter !!

sometimes eric and butters tag along

visits home like once a month, mostly to see his mom and dog

crimson dawn is still a thing, and stan is sooo dedicated

matches band tees with kenny sometimes <3

keeps up with his college football team religiously

way too emotional about college sports

joins some intramural sports tho!

butters and wendy would come to his games and cheer him on

definitely has late night talks with kyle about "deep" stuff... and kyle is like

"dude, shut the fuck up and go to bed," and throws a pillow at him

i think he would start a vinyl collection

also has succulents, but he forgets to water them hehe

doesn't really use social media

so he gets kyle to send him songs from tiktok for his workout routine LMFAO

sucks at cooking

best procrastinator around

his drunken rendition of mr. brightside went viral after kenny secretly posted it online

"IT WAS ONLYYY A KISS, IT WAS ONLY A KISSSSSS"

very political

argues with the tik tok interviewers on campus

gets kenny to help him bleach his hair

eric bullys tf out of him for it

☆ kyle broflovski

political science major and on a premed track

4.0 gpa idc this man is a tryhard and fueled on spite

uses an ipad and apple pencil to take notes, uses goodnotes

definitely color codes his notes

i don't think he would actually ask questions in class

but goes to office hours... and that's how professors know his name

obsessed with email etiquette

will actually facetime sharon to show how messy stan's side of the dorm is

will spray stan with a waterbottle to wake him up

"dude... are you serious right now?" "it's 2pm stan."

has a mini ironboard and iron

wears his ushanka on bad hair days

refuses to join study groups

but is butters study buddy

visits home every 2 weeks

and comes back with a ton of leftovers from his mom's cooking

he also mealpreps

whenever his mom calls him, eric takes kyle's phone and starts talking to sheila himself

in bed by 9pm most days

kenny comes knocking on the doors at 9:01 to bug kyle

definitely a coffee snob, and grinds his own beans

has a small box of keepstakes under his bed

also has a small medkit in his dorm, backpack, and gave one to kenny, eric, and butters

jogs every morning before class

terrible at small talk

prolly makes underclassmen cry

sends venmo requests for every shared expense

participates in model un

falls for ragebait online

also chronically online

waters stan's succulents for him

☆ kenny mccormick

physics major with a minor in women's and gender studies

3.5 gpa

milked the fuck out of his home situation to get a full ride scholarship

uses an old fashion notebook to take notes

sometimes comes to class faded

tries not to make it a habit

also smells like cigarettes, but everyone still wants to sit next to him ?

butters offers him alternatives like gum or lollipops

adrenaline junkie

his favorite class he took is water skiing

but also really likes his minor classes!

volunteers at local events, like community cleanup

thrifted flannels

shares them with stan

the most well known on campus out of the four + butters

loves late night drives

knows all the scenic spots around campus

has a bunch of tattoos littered on his body

kyle definitely mothers him, taking care of his scratch and bruises

horrible sleep schedule thanks to eric screaming in their dorm at 2am

makes quick god-like meals

the underclassmen idolize him for some reason ?

diy king

was hired to be the campus mascot

but was fired for bringing pyrotechnics on the football field

do not ask this man his bodycount

decorated his ottoman, to make it look less suspicious

definitely hides his drugs and alcohol in it

locks out eric from their dorm room and puts a sock on the door handle when he's getting sum

☆ eric cartman

business administration major with a minor in psychology

2.0 gpa

does not rlly give a fuck abt his classes

gets caught for cheating/plagiarism but somehow manages to never get expelled ?!

runs for his class student body president position, but his campaign is just memes

always scheming for free food, all the clubs know him

doesn't have anything school related in his backpack

loud as fuck in his dorm

"Dude. You’re at, like, an 11 right now. I need you at a 3." "Uh, excuse me? I’m multitasking. This is called strategy, Kenneth. I’m practicing for when I go pro, unlike you and your stupid—whatever it is you’re doing—'The Patriarchy 101' or some crap."

unironically loves the dining hall food

networks on linkedin for some reason ?

listed kyle as a reference on linkedin to piss him off

tiktok famous

atrocious dorm decor

has a cardboard cutout of andrew tate that he loves

runs the school barstool instagram account

reddit mod on the school's subreddit

every few weeks, stan convinces him to set a fitness goal

always fails...

has convinced the entire dorm there’s a ghost, and charged people $10 for ghost hunting tours

once organized a charity on campus to help pregnant students, but pocketed all the money

also ropped butters into it somehow

stole one of stan's succulents

believes he's a karaoke god

records the main four + butters at parties

spends at least an hour in the dorm's bathroom, causing kyle to geek tf out

works as a guide tour for the school, so he could spread misinformation to the tour groups

☆ leopold 'butters' stotch

either an education, psychology, or business major... i can't decide

3.8 gpa

active in the student government

sometimes reviews eric's cheating cases... way too lenient

accidentally started a cult on campus

started as a wholesome self help club

his advice was so endearing people started treating him like a guru

kenny thinks this is hilarious... kyle tried to stage an intervention but failed

becomes an RA

takes it way too seriously, best informative bulletin boards and door decorations

gets really sad whenever no one shows up to game night

so the main four and craig's gang show up out of pity

sometimes the girls come too!

did study aboard for a semester

returned with an inflated sense of cultural superiority

eric mocks the fuck out of him for it LOL

says howdy! to everyone every morning

academic overachiever

too polite to call out slackers in group projects so he just does most of the work

studies at the campus library at a specific spot next to a window

chews grape flavored gum while studying

started cleaning up trash at parties

color coded planner with stickers and motivational quotes

best hugs... stan is like the only person who hugs him back

sneaks into the football stadium at night to just stand on the grass

goes out for every holiday

plans secret santa for his dorm, makes cookies for finals, decorates his dorm room

his dorm door is always open!

☆ Group Dyanmics

always does group costumes for halloween

teletubbies one year, fnaf the next

bad movie nights everyweek

annual camping trips

kyle cries about the lack of phone signal

stan always forgets something important, like his tent or sleeping bag

kenny loves telling scary stories, especially to freak out butters

cartman only packs junk food

butters always burns his smores

every year when the snow falls, the go out in the quad to have a snowball fight and random people join in

kenny somehow manages to get the group to join him for his midnight drives

every semester they crash the weekly campus trivia at least once

can you guess who my favorite is tehehe...

[k3nz1ekorn]

Jayvik actor au- "This isn't my bedroom?"

Shooting continues at the lot, production is finally ramping up and our beloved actors Vlad and Joel get to talk a bit more. Part 2 chronologically in the au.

Character cheat sheet: Vi-Viola, Cait-Cathrin, Mel-Miah, Savannah- Sevika, Sky- Skyler, Powder/Jinx-Piper, Ekko-Elijah

Disclaimer: I know nothing about professional acting or studios, lot setup, etc. I will not be looking things up while writing this so if you notice something is blatantly wrong leave a comment about it! This is purely self indulgent and fics will probably be posted out of chronological order in the timeline. (If I write enough I’ll make a timeline list of them tho)

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Vlad had a busy schedule. Between shooting for arcane and his other projects he was on the production lot practically 24/7 this week. It was mostly other roles he’d booked that he was shooting this week since basically all of his scenes in Arcane involved Joel, who was turning out to be quite the busy man. They’d barely spoken since their first official meeting and none of it had even been to run lines! He was a bit worried about that specifically. They were both good actors, but that on screen chemistry didn’t always come naturally. It was always good to practice, he thought as he absently massaged a knot in his thigh. It was only in these early hours that he really had time to himself, time to just exist as he is, to not think about his lines or how to say them, and especially not to think about any of his co-stars. It wasn’t that he hated them, quite the opposite actually. The ones he’d met so far he gets along with very well, even joining them for lunch when his schedule allows it. They’re people he could actually see himself enjoying the company of outside of work. He makes a mental note to invite them all out for drinks this weekend, the ones that were going to be in town for it that is. The problem with his co-stars was actually a singular person, one with striking golden eyes and a face Vlad is sure was sculpted by the gods themselves with the explicit intent to taunt him. 

The brunette squeezed his eyes shut and brought his mug up off the table to take a long sip of his coffee, to distract his wandering mind. He wasn’t going to think about Joel right now. This was his me time, not fantasizing about his coworker time. He had found it too much of a hassle to make the drive back to his apartment the previous night and had opted to instead sleep in his trailer, meaning his clothing for the day were whatever he had supplied for himself when he packed the dressers before it was brought to the lot. A pair of black jeans  and a thick dark grey sweater seemed to be his best options that day, it didn’t matter too much anyways, he would be in and out of costume all day anyways, this outfit was just for his meal breaks. 

He was already showered and ready for the day, which he knew was going to be starting soon, it was already- Jesus 8AM? He had to get moving. He stood up as he chugged the rest of his half finished barely lukewarm coffee, rinsing the mug in the sink and moving to the table on the opposite side of his trailer to grab his script and water bottle before descending the steep ass ramp out of his trailer. Skyler should be here soon, he thought absently, should she not? It wasn’t like her to be late and call time was slowly approaching. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he let the door shut behind him, did she maybe text him and he just hadn’t seen it? 

Ah. He had a few missed texts it seemed.

Displayed brightly on his screen were three texts, the first from his aforementioned assistant, saying the line at their usual coffee shop had been longer than usual and she was running a bit late, delivered maybe 15 minutes ago. Second was from Viola, a picture he’d have to actually open the message to see and the words ‘did you get it yet?????????’ received about 3 minutes ago. He didn’t need to guess what she meant as yes, he had in fact gotten it. The third text is no doubt what she was referring to, and the one that had initially caught his attention. It was from an unknown number, a simple ‘this is joel we should meet to run lines over lunch,’ and he definitely wasn’t mentally scolding his clothing choice for the day. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though as he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw two coffees on a holder come into his line of vision.

“SO sorry for running late Vlad, the line was crazy, even mobile ordering ahead of time they were just slammed.” She sounded out of breath as she spoke to him, her other hand holding the coffee lowering a bit as the hand that had been on his shoulder moved to cover her chest. She looked as professional as ever in her black pantsuit and deep red button up. Her hair was up in a high puff today, a few pieces coming out to frame her face. She moved her free hand to grab her phone from her pocket to go over the itinerary she no doubt had open. “You have a few new faces for your scenes today, some old ones too I noticed! So we should probably get you there just a pinch ahead of time. Wanna head to the set now?” She finally looked up at him as she caught her breath. Vlad was already looking at her when he opened his mouth to speak. He hadn’t thought about a response yet. She’d given him plenty of time to refocus himself and yet here he was, still reeling over a text like some teenager. He raised his phone just a bit.

“Joel texted me.” The silence was deafening. Skylar blinked once. Then twice, before finally letting a smirk overtake her face.

“Oh did he? And why are you telling me this?” Truth be told he didn’t know. Most likely because he hadn’t had a coherent thought since she got there and he’d like to believe they are at least on friendly terms by now. 

“I should respond to it before we head over. It would be rude not to, no?” He turned back to his phone and unlocked it before clicking on the new number to respond, Skyler let out an amused laugh from beside him. He had to send something before he could overthink this, and fast. ‘Yes please omg’ seemed like too much, and a simple ‘Sure.’ was definitely too cold, he needed to be professional but enthusiastic about it. He settled on, ‘I’d actually been meaning to ask you the same, we will discuss further when I get to the set, yes?’ He quickly clicked out of their texts to stop himself from rereading it and opened the text from Viola instead. Texting back a quick ‘I did :3’ he looked over the photo she sent. The picture was quite cute to say the least. The camera was at a high angle, only showing her forehead and eyes at the bottom of the screen, the main focus of the photo being Cathrin and Joel a few feet away holding out their phones in front of one another. Was that a blush he saw? He quickly blinked the thought away and pocketed his phone before turning back to Skyler to let her know he was ready to go.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Vlad had finished his second cup of coffee before they even stepped foot onto the set they’d be at for their first scene. He had to, after nearly spilling coffee on his Academy uniform earlier in the week he’d had to cut back on his on set coffee breaks. That’s actually why he was now drinking more water,.much to Skyler’s delight he may add. His cane gave gentle clicks as he moved into view of the set, a dark hallway and a door loomed in front of him, this was their scene breaking into the lab if he was not mistaken. The schedule had said all of their group scenes would be before lunch, which meant this one, the trial with the council, and the scene where they get to be hooked up to a bunch of wires. That one made him a bit uneasy if he was telling the truth, he never liked heights much, and having no experience with being hooked up like that he was unsure of how his leg would handle it. They had a fantastic team helping to make accommodations for him, but he’d had his fair share of bad experiences so it was natural to be cautious.

He was broken from his thoughts as he recognized a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. He adjusted himself to face the newcomer and gave a warm smile, “Miah! I was hoping we’d get a chance to chat before we were called to places. You look wonderful! That makeup was a great choice I must say.” His old friend only laughs in response, head tilting back in amusement before coming to embrace him in a small side hug. There was no lie, she was a vision really, in a beautiful all white dress with gold accents that perfectly matched the jewelry in her hair and makeup painting her face.

“Hey Vlad, can’t say I’ve seen the costume or makeup department make anyone look bad so far, yourself included. Did they make your moles bigger? And that vest, oh my god!” She circled him once, as if he didn’t already know how good he looked right now. “The lace up sides are a very nice touch, on both you and Mr. Torres over there.” She gestures somewhere behind him and he has to grip his cane a bit tighter to keep himself from shooting around to gawk at the new topic of their conversation. Instead he just gives a light chuckle and takes a breath to respond- “He’s on his way over.” She says glancing between him and who he can only imagine is the very man that had been capturing every other thought he’d had for the past week. His eyes crease at the corners every so slightly as he turns to look over a shoulder to greet the new addition to their conversation with a polite smile. 

“Joel, how good to see you again, have you met Miah yet? She’ll be playing Mel.” It would be rude to not introduce them, he thought, especially since they’d all be filming the next few scenes together. Joel gives him a glance and turns his attention towards Miah to extend a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, you are Vladimir's friend?” A shiver definitely does not try to make its way down his spine upon hearing his full name, and gods does he hope he’s not blushing again. The handshake, he notes, is much slower and longer than the one he had received…he tries not to read into that. He looks up at the woman beside them as their hands part, she clasps hers together in front of herself and gives a polite nod.

“The pleasure’s all mine! I was very excited to hear I’d finally be getting a chance to work with you! And to work with Vlad again too, on the same project no less. We’ve been friends since filming that weird pumpkin themed horror movie a few years back. Have you two worked together before? Vlad didn’t mention it when we went over the cast list together.” She raised her eyebrow as she spoke, her eyes pointedly moving between the two of them, as if trying to hint at something almost. It was at that moment he realized Joel had stopped nearly directly behind him, just barely off to the side enough for them to see each other's faces actually. The cough that escapes him is definitely not nervous, just a tickle is what he tells himself as he brings his hand back down to readjust his cane. He reminds himself to ask Skyler where she’d had them put his chair.

“We haven’t. I met him filming a scene earlier in the week,” the taller man’s eyes move to Vlad again, “I’d like to have a word before we’re called to places. I’ll be in my chair.” He started to turn to leave, eyes moving back to Miah, “I look forward to working with you.” And with that he was walking away. He really didn’t like letting people respond did he? Two of their interactions now he’d ended by just walking away. With a small shake of the head he turns back to his friend, who is now trying to hide some very obvious amusement. She says her next words in a hushed tone, her wrist partially covering her mouth.

“Oh my god he’s so into you.” 

“He’s what now?”

Vlad’s jaw drops open and he gives the most incredulous look at the woman across from him. He turns away from her, only to look back at her completely aghast, “He barely looked at me when he was actively speaking to me just now. What about that indicates he’s into me? If anything I’d say he was checking you out!” He emphasizes his words with a flick of the wrist in her direction and tries to keep his voice hushed so nobody overhears their conversation. It is quite embarrassing to be having this conversation while at work actually, something he’d rather keep private.

“Are you kidding me? First of all,” she raises a finger up beside her head. Oh great, she’s making a list, “you didn’t see what his eyes were doing when your back was turned. Second,” another finger and a pointed tilt of the head, “he was staring me down. NOT the same as checking me out. Third,” hopefully the final finger in this conversation raises, “even if he had been we both know he’s nowhere near my type in men. Much too…stoic.” She finishes with a slight downward curl on her lips and a shake of the head before finally putting her hand down to cross her arms over each other. She glanced over his shoulder once more and her eyes just barely widened before she smirks, letting her eyes fall back to his once more. “You better get a move on with your conversation, your man keeps looking at us.” As she looks back again her eyes shift to a new area behind him and stop, her mouth forms a soft ‘o’ and a new look overtakes her and she seems to spot something else, something not Joel he decides. A hand is placed on his shoulder as she very quickly steps around him. Her next words come out quiet as he walks away. “Speaking of my type…I’ll see you on set.” He turns to watch her go with a mild curiosity, eyes following her direction of travel to the prosthetics tent where he could see a very muscular woman with a short ponytail getting pieces attached to her already augmented arm. He gives an impressed hum to himself and nods, he’d definitely have to invite them all out for drinks if for no other reason than to hear about how that develops.

He turns a bit more to face Joel’s direction and notices the other man’s eyes just barely darting down to the script he held in his hand. Vlad begins to make his way over when a very very small chuckle breaks through his lips, any previous tension about how the other perceived him already forgotten. Either he was trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably, or he could read upside down, seeing as that’s the way the script was being held. With a final few steps they’re next to each other and Vlad decides at the last minute he won’t mention the little continuity error in the other's facade.

“Eager to steal my attention eh? I already agreed to have lunch with you.” There’s a chuckle in the way he says it, something light. Joel lifts his eyes from the pages he’d definitely been pretending to read and gives a small hum. His unoccupied hand came up to smooth over his jaw and chin before he spoke, turning his head in his direction but still not fully looking at the man he’s addressing.

“We have a lot of scenes together. It seems our characters become…very good friends, by the end of the season. Over half of the dialogue I’ve read so far is either directed at or talking about your character in some way. We should discuss their dynamic.” With that he turns his head to rest it on his hand, and finally makes eye contact with the other. There’s no real identifiable emotion on his face aside from what seems to be sheer boredom. “I was told by my manager the production team wants them,” he raises his head to make air quotes with the hand he had been leaning on as he continues,”‘strictly platonic with no room for romantic interpretation,’ I assume you were told the same?” Vlad closes his eyes and he lets a little giggle slip at that, bringing the back of his hand up to cover it. He misses the way the other’s light up just a bit more at it.

“I was, yes, I assume you think we should take more creative liberties with it? You wouldn’t be talking to me about it otherwise, correct?” His hand comes back down to rest in his pocket, his posture relaxed, and he gives an inquisitive look. He really hopes he’s about to suggest what he thinks he is.

“Yes. Whether my character knows it or not, he will be in love with yours by the end of the season, and whether yours reciprocates or not is up to you.” He speaks with an air of certainty that leaves no room for discussion, luckily Vlad is already in agreement with him.

“He will. I’m very glad we had this chat actually, I had been planning on adding a level of…longing? I’m aware your character is romantically involved with Miah’s by the second half of the season, however I do love some good old fashioned, one sided, seemingly unrequited tension.” He lets his lip curl up into a mischievous grin as he looks down at the other. “It won’t be too obvious of course, just an underlying something or other to give a bit more depth to their relationship…though it does seem quite deep even without it. They become quite close, no? We should find some time outside of filming to talk, get into character a little as they say.” He’d already said he wanted to find ways to get to know him more, and he fully meant that shit. Whether the reasoning he was giving was the only reason was not important. Joel gives a hum of agreement and looks back down at his script, he’s silent for a second before- oh he’s blushing. He must have finally noticed his script was upside-down.

Credit where it’s due, Joel has a very good poker face aside from the light blush dusted across his cheeks. Vlad keeps his eyes on him as the other clears his throat and closes his script, looking back up as if nothing had even happened. The bell to signal a start rings and places are called, cutting the rest of their conversation short.

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“So far, so good.” He whispers, the glowstick just barely illuminating the lock enough for him to see it. Suddenly a bright light flows over them both, slightly startled he looks directly into it before bringing his hand up to try and deflect some of it. Blinking a few times to correct his eyes he hears a familiar voice in front of him.

“Hmm. Willing to risk exile for your endeavour. That’s quite the conviction.” It’s said with a hint of amusement. They’d filmed this scene a few times already and he felt his lack of lines right here kept making the whole exchange rather awkward. Time for a new strategy I guess.

“Councilor!” He hears from behind him. Quirking a brow up he barely listens to the continued flustered rambling, he feigns confusion and turns back to the keys still in the lock by his face.

“Wait a minute this isn’t my bedroom?” He mutters with mock embarrassment, “How could I have…” Their voices overlap for a second before silence engulfs them. He looks back up at the ‘Councilor’ and sees her fighting for her damn life to keep in the laugh that’s threatening to spill out. She’s come to expect this of him, he supposes, makes it easier to keep her composure. Joel seems as composed as ever, easily continuing on with his lines and it’s only a little disappointing he didn’t laugh. It’s almost too easy the way the rest of the scene flows from there, almost too easy the way Joel looks at Miah with such curiosity and wonder as she walks away with the security guard. Almost too easy how he doesn’t have to fake the way his lips pull up to his nose in distaste, or even the slightly annoyed huff he gives before turning back to the door, bending down to finish unlocking it as the director yells cut. They didn’t have to redo the scene again at least.

Authors note: This shit is 3.5k words and I edited without coffee. Thanks for the love so far! Glad to know yall are liking it. I'll definitely be branching out at some point to do more with Caitvi and Melvika. I'm not sorry about it.

[pinkmelodie]

First Miguel fic + 250+ follower special ୨୧

I’d like to start off by saying THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR ALMOST 300 FOLLOWERS !! And 2000+ notes?!? omg. I checked my inbox a few times and saw 99+ notifs every time, and when I tell you I SCREAMED. As a new writer I can’t thank you enough for all the notes and sweet comments ! I’m so grateful, so take this fic as a thank you <33

Warnings: Miguel is hinted to have slept with socks on which….is a trigger on its own apparently 😥, potentially botched ass Spanish……(no Google translate was used tho, my French teacher taught me better than that), p in v, making out, grinding, slight blood, reader has no chill nor filter but Miguels lowkey into it, degradation, bondage, banter, oral, praise, etc.

a/n: Takes place before the whole Miles incident !! I love Miguel but I can’t forgive him for doing that to my son 🤨🤨 This could also be imagined as König, since they’re both huge stubborn men <33

Pairing: Female reader x Miguel O’Hara 

Summary: Miguel is pent up and needs a release. Lucky for him, there’s a certain spider woman who’d do anything for him <3

Words: 4141 (DAMN I shocked myself w this)

. . .

Miguel runs his hand through his hair, grumbling when he feels it’s getting to a length that needs cutting again. Just another thing to add to his pile of responsibilities.

He pushes the fumbled blanket off to the side and lazily palms at his morning wood, finding the ministrations do little to help his raging hard-on. He’s shocked, mainly that he could still get one with how tense he’s been lately, but mostly that he’s actually annoyed that he has to jerk off. It feels like a chore to him now…though taking care of himself in any sense has since he became Spider-Man.

With a sleepy groan he drags himself up and to the bathroom. His mismatched socks are soft against the cool bathroom tiles where he turns on the shower. His muscles stretch when he tugs his white sweater over his head and tosses it onto the ground nearby, abs tensing and shoulders refusing to relax no matter how much stretching he did.

When the rest of his clothing join the heap on the floor he steps into the freezing cold shower, twitching at the icy droplets that felt like tiny icicles poking into his taut skin. 

He hoped the temperature would make the nuisance go down, but it raged on, standing proud at its full height. Miguel never thought he’d find himself glaring at his own dick, but here he was, horny and heavily pissed off. 

He reached down and tugged at his cock, rubbing his thumb over the angry red tip. He jerked profusely, yet all it did was leave him feeling unsatisfied and humiliated. 

“Fuck.” He cursed, washing his hand off before aggressively turning the knob to stop the flowing water. He tried to remember what he had to do today while pacing the bathroom, but he couldn’t focus with his erection clouding  his thoughts. Maybe if the blood would stay in his head…

He was an attractive guy, he knew that much. It would be easy to go out into the town and hook up with some stranger, but not so much so when he was in this constant sour mood. That sullen energy & resting bitch face paired with his looming height would scare any woman away.

Any sane woman.

You tied up the last of the criminals in your silky webs, smiling in victory. Unfortunately, the joy wasn’t long-lasting since as soon as you got home you felt boredom creeping up on you once again.

For weeks you’d been entertained by the intimidating founder of the spider society; Miguel O’Hara.You’d been bugging him for days on end, literally drooling at his feet and begging him to come back to your place.

He kicked you out multiple times, but like a cockroach you couldn’t be squashed—and neither could your need for him. You just couldn’t take a hint apparently. When he picked you up by the back of your suit and threw you back into your universe, all you focused on was how easily he carried you with just one of his big, veiny hands.

The way that suit hugged his defined chest so well, and his massive arms where you could see every vein…plus that prominent bulge? You were sunk.

He’d finally run out of patience for you when you ‘accidentally’ messed with the tech for his suit, almost making him go full commando in front of everyone in the spider society.(wouldn’t be the last time that happened…) He banned you for good, taking away your ‘multiversal gizmo’ without a second thought.

Your last words being ‘worth it!’ as you were flung back into your universe by the go-home-machine seemed like the icing on the cake to him despising you forever, but apparently that wasn’t the case because the man himself just appeared in your living room.

“Y/N.” He addressed nonchalantly.

You stared at him, jaw agape for a few moments before pinching yourself to see if you were dreaming. You had to be, he basically filed a restraining order against you. A really complicated, multiversal restraining order. Why  would he ever voluntarily come to you?

You couldn’t even respond since your throat felt so dry .. . It seemed your body had other ideas of where to soak.

“Why are you so obbsesed with me?” He suddenly asked, paying no mind to your awkward silence. 

“uhm-“

“I mean, you chased me around every day, eyed me down so intensively it was basically public sex and yet here you are, alone with me like you wanted, and now you’re speechless?” He stalked around your living room, circling you like a bird of prey.

You blushed up a storm and stood frozen in front of him, trying to discretely rub your thighs together.

He eyed you down, noticing your obvious ministrations but only chuckling. “Sometimes I had wished you were an actual spider so I could crush you under the soles of my shoes, but lately I’ve found myself feeling as horny and desperate as you.” He admitted with a smirk that revealed his sharpened fangs. 

That confession had your mind reeling to the point all you could muster up was; “I would’ve let you step on me regardless.”

His smirk grew and he started to approach you until his shadow covered you completely. You had to tilt your whole head up to look him in his glowing red eyes now—but you couldn’t handle making the eye contact anyway.

“You are just a small little thing, yet I didn’t expect you to be all bark no bite. All those filthy things you said lingered in my mind..don’t you want to take care of what you started?” He asked in a deliciously low voice. The almost mocking manner he said it in made you feel called out, and you looked down at your hands and picked at your nails to try and calm yourself.

A clawed finger tilted your head up by the chin and forced you to look into his eyes. How could you forget—in all your time spent basically stalking him you noticed how he never broke eye contact with anyone that he was speaking to. It was both exhilarating and intimidating to see, and you felt that full force while finally being on the receiving end of it. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, arañita.” He ordered, and it sent tingles shooting up your spine.

You swore you heard your neck crack from how fast you looked up at him. He looked predatory staring down at you like that, eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “So? Will you finish what you started muñeca?” He asked, as if it was even a question to you.

“Fuck yes.” You agreed without missing a beat, making him chuckle darkly. “Needy thing.”

Before your mind could catch up you were suddenly being lifted by him and thrown on his shoulder with ease. He walked through the halls of your cozy apartment and waltzed into your bedroom without even searching for it, carelessly throwing you onto the bed.

You landed with a bounce on the soft comforter, feeling even smaller now with him standing above you. “Wha- how do you know where my bedroom is?” You asked when your brain finally decided to have a rational thought. 

“I’ve done my research—wanted to make sure you weren’t a spy. It was a waste of time, really, you’re just a horny stalker.” He shrugged.

You stared at him with an offended expression (tho it was 100% true) and went to argue until your lips were suddenly sealed by sticky red webs.

 “On your back.” He ordered. 

You crossed your arms at him first until he repeated the command in a low, dangerous voice. “Now.” Any defiance you had pretended to have quickly left your body and you laid down flat on the silk sheets.

He stalked over to you, all big and menacing as always. He leaned over you and forced your wrists together, twirling more glowing silk around them until they were bound above your head. 

He smirked down at you, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your neck. He sucked dark hickeys onto the sensitive skin of your throat, enjoying your muffled moans. While before he found your voice excruciating—he was now desperate to hear it crying out his name.

He stripped the webs off your mouth and you whined at the pain. The feeling resembled a bandaid being ripped off a fresh cut. He cooed pitifully above you and leaned in, whispering “Pobre araña, why don’t I kiss it better?” 

You nodded desperately until his lips met yours with a slight sting. He growled into your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours and exploring your mouth until you were squirming. He nibbled on your bottom lip, sharp canines threatening to break the skin. He pushed his muscled thigh between your legs and pressed down on your clit with his knee, the pressure making you moan under him. Your sweet sounds drove him wild, and he couldn’t help but bite down lightly on your lip until tiny droplets of blood dripped onto his tongue.

He groaned at the taste, his animalistic split-DNA going wild. When he pulled back—lips reddened, hair tussled and fallen slightly in front of his face— you couldn’t help but stare. His face looked so much more chiseled up close, cheekbones perfectly defined and a jawline sharper than the claws currently resting on your hips. 

His toned chest rose up and down steadily while he regained his breath, the familiar spider symbol on his suit growing bigger then smaller with each rise of his lungs like it was breathing. 

“Let’s take care of these, Cariño.” He addressed your clothing as if it were nothing but a nuisance for him before slicing your shirt right off you. He did this with ease, big claws moving onto your bottoms and clawing those off as well.

“Hey! Those were nice.” You pouted, though apparently he didn’t appreciate that comment because you were now being tied up even worse than before. Webs spewed from his wrist and circled your body like serpents, tying around your waist, arms, and thighs. “Don’t be a brat.” He ordered, webs tightening in warning. Once satisfied, he admired the way they looked pulled taut against your soft skin. “Red looks lovely on you, amor.” He praised, a quick switch from his previous comment.

He lifted you and reached behind your back, unclasping your bra with one hand. He threw it onto the ground somewhere with your torn up clothes, focusing his attention on your soft tits.

He hummed in content, playing with your nipples and letting his webs circle around the soft flesh of your breasts. He licked and sucked at one while tugging on the other, making you moan and squirm under him.

“Fuck Miguel- ah! more!” You whined desperately, coaxing a chuckle out of the behemoth. 

“Such a desperate slut.” He tutted, sucking marks all over your chest to match your throat. He kissed over the already forming hickeys, grazing his teeth dangerously close to your jugular. This man was massive, and made of pure muscle like a Greek god. He could easily hold you down without the help of his webs, but he wanted to focus full attention on you. 

He finally moved down to where you needed him most, going to rip your panties straight off you before you rudely slammed your thighs shut. “You take off your suit first….” You whined, embarrassed at being nearly completely nude before him while he was still covered. He was genuinely offended by this, feeling like he’d just had a door slammed on his face, yet he grumbled and messed around with his watch until the hologram started to dissipate.

Your jaw dropped wider and wider the more you took him in. The man resembled a skillfully carved statue belonging to Olympus itself. His biceps and abs were enough to challenge even Ares himself. Your eyes trailed lower and lower, leisurely mapping him out until your eyes locked on the weapon between his legs.

His dick stood loud and proud against his toned stomach, and it was massive. The man is 6,9, you knew he’d be big, but this thing was around 9 inches and looked like it could rip you in half. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it even if you tried—I mean—the thing was basically introducing itself to you. We’re talking hello, how are you and goodbye.

Miguel basked in your ogling, his ego swelling more than it already had since he first noticed your obsession with him.

You finally snapped out of your trance when he bent down and slipped off your soaked panties, kissing up your leg as he did so. You spread both your legs for him and he took that as an invitation to lean in and lick a stripe up your wet cunt. You jumped, not expecting him to get into it so quickly, but you definitely didn’t complain.

He prodded a finger at your hole and pushed it in slowly, holding your hips down with his free hand. He made sure to be mindful of the claws adorning his fingertips since they wouldn’t go back down thanks to his clouded mind. The thick digit went in without much resistance thanks to how wet you were, until he pushed in a second and started scissoring them. 

You moaned and whimpered at the stretch, two of his thick fingers the size of nearly four of yours. He pumped them in and out quickly, the slick sounds your pretty hole made for him music to his ears. Your slick dripped down his ring and middle fingers that he was ruthlessly pumping inside you and dribbled down his veiny forearm.

He massaged your walls and pushed against them, scissoring his fingers to stretch you as much as possible. He couldn’t hit your g-spot thanks to his clawed fingertips, so he sucked at your clit to fill that extra stimulation until your head was rolling back. 

Something circled your waist and you figured it was his arm until you looked back down to see more webs. You would wriggle far too much without them, and he needed his other hand to spread your folds to drag a mix of his salvia and your slick around your twitching clit. You mewled at the overwhelming stimulation, bucking onto his face while he had a full on make out sesh with your pussy.

Only when he finally sunk four fingers into you and you were basically on the brink of tears with need did he pull away. Not without blowing on your sensitive clit, of course, just to see you twitch and squirm under the unrelenting grasp of his webs.

He stood up with a playful smile, freeing you from some of the webs just to pull you to the edge of the bed. Your ass met his pelvis with a slap when he yanked you by the ankle that quickly locked around his waist. He chuckled out something in Spanish that you didn’t understand, maybe along the lines of “Qué bonita putita…”. You didn’t bother to question it when he started to grind his rock hard dick on your drooling pussy, getting him all nice and wet to push into you. 

Only when he was coated completely in your essence did he listen to your pleas and finally line his fat tip up at your hole. Even with the all the stretching, your poor cunt had to stretch to accommodate the swollen red tip. His pre-cum mixed with your juices when it finally popped in after some resistance, and he groaned at the warm feeling.

“So fucking tight, your poor pussy can’t take it, hm? You were so confident when you were begging for it like a desperate whore.” He growled, degradation making you clench Impossibly tighter around his head until he had to bite back a groan.

“Please Mig, I can take it.” You begged, rutting your hips onto him and trying to coax him deeper until he swiftly grabbed your waist. His claws dug into your skin, threatening to break through. He pulled back and you immediately assumed he was going to tease you again for being desperate. 

Straight away you whined out apologies, stumbling over your words and pleas until he suddenly slammed back inside you, cramming 5 of his solid inches into your hole. You screamed, tears brimming on your waterline at the stretch. Your back arched off the bed and you squirmed away from the sting until he pulled back and rutted back in again, almost as if testing the waters.

With every drag of his hips his cock slowly got deeper into you until he was bottomed out completely. His tip kissed against your cervix and you looked down, amazed and horrified to see him crammed inside you so snugly. He gave you a moment to compose yourself—preoccupied on the bulge in your lower stomach. 

“My good girl, fitting around me so perfectly. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He teased, dick twitching at the fucked out moan you gave in response.

It definitely was hard, yet his dick was harder. You could feel every single vein and ridge pressing into you, rubbing against your gummy walls in a way that left you drooling. You suddenly understood why he’d prepped you for so long. It wasn’t just to tease you, this just was not an easy thing to take. 

“Move,” you pleaded, correcting youself when he raised an eyebrow, “please.”

He hummed, palming at the fat of your hips to see the way your skin sunk under his touch. “I don’t know Cariño…do you really deserve this dick?” 

You gave him your best “are you for real?” face. This man was not about to make you beg when he was the one to randomly show up in your home. You’d been begging on your knees for him for months, and now he chooses to acknowledge it?

You made it your personal mission to go against everything he’s ever ordered from you, and the grind never does stop, does it?

“Like you deserve to kiss my ass?” You jest without hesitation. 

You can see the way his whole face stretches; clearly dumbfounded at your response before he’s able to compose himself. With your cunt wrapped around him so tight and warm like that, it’s easy to forget the pretty spider underneath him is a little rascal.

“You were just whining a second ago, don’t try that,” He warned. “You’ve been begging for it for months, practically humping my leg in front of the entire Arachno-Humanoid-Poly-Universe.” 

You groaned at his insistence on calling it that, even while balls deep inside you. “I didn’t sign up to fuck a geek,” you mutter.

“With the way you approached me I’m sure you’d fuck just about anyone, puta.”

You wanted to be insulted, but your words caught in your throat when he leaned close to you to whisper right into your ear; “Quit acting like you had any dignity in the first place and beg.”

His warm breath on your nape left you shivering. Miguel wasn’t human—not completely. With DNA mixed with a spiders, he was a predator; one ready to devour you whole.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone really when you gradually let quiet pleas spill from your mouth. Miguel had half the mind to make you speak up, but he was loosing his thin amount of patience as is. With a satisfied click of his tongue, he pulled back until his flushed head was right at your entrance “see, was that so hard?”

You knew better than to try and answer at this point when he rammed his cock back into you. Huge hands gripped your thighs and pushed your legs into your chest while he bullied his dick further and further into your cunt. 

Your pussy was embarrassingly loud for him, squelching with each brutal thrust of his hips. His muscled thighs were tense with the pure strength he put into slamming into you—beating your sensitive pussy in until it memorized his shape for life. 

“Mig- ah! Holyfuck!” You screamed, draping your arms over his shoulders and scratching at his back like a cat post.

“Go on princesa, mark me up.” He encouraged and got a better grip on your thighs, pushing your legs out to a full spread. He had you displayed like a dinner feast and bent you like a lawn chair with your lower half on his toned chest. He was actually impressed at your flexibility, yet like always he chose the worst way to phrase it.

“I’m shocked, I never expected you to do any real training.” 

“Fuck you.”

“That’s what you’ve been wanting, is it not?” He gloated with such a shit-eating expression that you just had to wipe off his face. He sunk deeper into you when you pulled him in for a kiss and it had you clenching around him.

His thrusts got more erratic until your mind was clouded with only the sounds of his dick disappearing into your cunt. His hands were dragging you back onto him by the hips at the same time, so you could feel him bumping against your cervix with each thrust.

You were too fucked out to say anything other than broken moans and mewls of his name, and he wasn’t too far off.

“So pretty Cariño,” he groaned, “all for me? mierda- yeah, all for me.”

A string of loud mewls along with shameless moans poured out of your bruised lips in response. He pounded your pussy with so much vigour that you edged forward on the ruffled mattress with each rough thrust.

He massaged your throbbing clit between his fingers, laughing at the way they kept slipping around from how much of your own arousal was dripping down your cunt. Heavy balls slapping against your soft skin filled your ears when you felt that coil in your stomach start to snap.

“Pussys gripping me like a fucking vice- you gonna cum for me?” he teased, “look baby- look at how well this sweet little pussys taking me.”

He took your hand and lead it down until it was tracing the prominent bump in your stomach - You could feel every brutal thrust and see the way he ravaged your insides. You pressed down on it, getting impossibly tighter around him and the broken moan he let out was what got you.

He quickly tore a mind-numbing orgasm out of you - thick cockhead still splitting you open while he worked your clit. You soaked his cock and squeezed against it, shaking and crying under him until you could barely take it anymore. 

He smiled in pride, sharp fangs showing and making him resemble the waiting mouth of a shark. “Such a good fucking girl, coming all over me like that. Look at the mess you’ve made,” he hummed, observing the noticeable white ring you left around the base of his cock. 

His thrusts stuttered before stilling completely inside you. He made a noise akin to an animal before spilling his hot cum inside your welcoming heat with a shudder and a broken moan.

“Mfhm- mierda.. .” He cursed, his warmth filling you up so much it started to spill out.

You felt like a rag doll under him, half-asleep and smiling dumbly up at him. He chuckled and admired one last time how pretty you looked in his glowing red webs, wrapped around you like his own custom lingerie. 

He sliced them off you and smiled warmly when you raised your arms out to him. He leaned in to let you wrap your arms around his massive shoulders with your legs now wrapping around his waist.

He picked you up with you curled into him like a koala - the warm sensation of his cum dripping down your connected bodies grounding you while he walked to your bathroom. 

He pressed soft kisses to your marked up-neck while he ran a warm bath, rubbing at the indents his claws subconsciously left on your hips. 

You didn’t remember exactly when you fell asleep; somewhere between when his large hands washed the cum off your skin or when he gently laid you down on your fresh bedsheets. 

All you knew was that you woke up to the smell of clean laundry and noticed snacks and a water bottle left on your nightstand. There was a note too that you had to reach over to grab. His handwriting was smudged but fancy, and it was so adorably him that it left you smiling ear to ear. 

“Had to leave early. Meet me in my office tomorrow and we’ll discuss how you’ll be living in my universe from now on ,seeing as how you’re now mine, mi vida.” 

. . .