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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 7 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 2: I’m The Son Of Rage And Love]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Jesus Of Suburbia” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

On the shores of the Susquehanna River, just north of Harrisburg, you find a Wawa with no gas: bags on all the pumps, cars with their fuel caps unscrewed and dangling. This is a common courtesy adopted en masse, like rationing during the World Wars or flying American flags after 9/11. It signals that a car has already been siphoned, no gasoline to be found here, no transparent flammable gold made of eons-past decomposition. You wonder if in a few million years, some unfathomable new apex species will be drilling your liquefied remains from the lightless layers of the earth to power their spaceships.

“Then we got sent to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling,” Rio continues, gnawing on a piece of beef jerky, Jack Link’s in a red bag, teriyaki. Mercifully, whoever took the gas left some of the food. You are sitting in the parking lot, a quaint zombie apocalypse picnic, trail mix and Rice Krispies Treats, Herr’s potato chips and Tastykakes, warm soda sipped from plastic bottles. Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the Tahoe. Jace is tearing the convenience store apart; he is convinced the employees must have kept a gun somewhere in case of robberies. You know he’s fine. You can hear him banging around and swearing in there.

“Then we built some schools and a hospital in Djibouti,” you say.

Aegon is baffled yet intrigued. “Djibouti…?”

“It’s on the Horn of Africa, near Ethiopia and Somalia.”

Luke snorts. “It’s nice of you to assume he knows where Africa is.”

“Huh.” Aegon tosses a green M&M into his mouth. “Djibouti is horny.”

Rio says: “And after that we spent like six months in Key West, and then we got shipped to Corpus Christi, where Chips very narrowly avoided getting impregnated by, marrying, and inevitably acrimoniously divorcing a Marine.”

Everyone laughs except Aemond, who gives you a teasing smirk. “Did you really?”

“Uh, no. He asked me out, I ghosted him, that’s as far as it went.”

“Why’d you ghost him?” Baela says, crunching on Utz Cheese Balls.

Aegon turns to Rio. “You want a Honey Bun?”

“You’re my Honey Bun,” Rio replies. Aegon smiles, his sunburn flushing darker.

You shrug, eat a handful of candied almonds, tell a half-truth. “I just didn’t like him enough.”

Rhaena yelps and points: a snake, black and maybe five feet long, is slithering across the parking lot. It passes beneath the shade of the Tahoe and then continues towards the bushes. A moderate amount of panic erupts.

Helaena glances up from her notebook. “Rat snake. Not venomous.”

Rhaena shudders. “Well, I still don’t like it.”

“Where were you stationed next?” Daeron asks Rio.

“Chinhae, South Korea. Wicked cool place. The people love Americans, the food is incredible. We were there to rebuild a pier that got wrecked in a typhoon. They have these cute dolphin-looking things, they’d swim right up to the edge of the water with fish in their mouths to try to give to us. Like cats bringing home mice for their owners.”

“Finless porpoises,” you say.

“Yeah, those. And after Korea, it was Diego Garcia.”

“Diego…what?” Rhaena says.

Aegon turns to Luke. “Try to act like I’m stupid for not knowing where that is.”

“Diego Garcia is a tiny little island in the middle of the Indian Ocean,” you say, a bit wistfully. “It’s technically owned by the British, but we share a base there, we use it for airfields and to refuel submarines, things like that. We were renovating the housing facilities for Camp Thunder Cove. At night we’d go to the beach, have a few beers, look out into the ocean and it was just…nothing. Wide open dark nothingness for as far as you could imagine.”

“That’s what we need now,” Helaena murmurs as she makes elegant cursive annotations in her notebook, the cover picturing different species of spiders, a pinktoe tarantula, a green lynx spider, a black widow. “Someplace to go where no one will find us.”

“So you’ve known each other since basic training.” Aemond’s remaining blue eye shifts between you and Rio, like he’s still trying to puzzle it out. There’s really no mystery. You’re friends, and you’ve always been friends, and you’ve never been more than friends, despite many of your fellow seamen’s jokes to the contrary.

You tear open a Slim Jim. Aemond rebandaged your hands this morning, though they barely hurt anymore; he touches you with a clinical, focused restraint. “Not quite that long. Rio enlisted a few months before I did, so we weren’t at Great Lakes together, and then carpenters do technical school in Gulfport, Mississippi near Biloxi, and electricians train at Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas. We met after we were both assigned to Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 1.”

“The First and The Finest,” Rio quotes the motto, grinning. “The original Seabees, founded during World War II. People called our battalion the Pioneers, which…is kind of ironic now.”

Aegon says, munching noisily on trail mix: “It’ll be so appropriate when you end up dying of a broken leg or the flu or in some other totally preventable way.”

“It’s so crazy, people died of anything back then,” Luke marvels gravely. “Tuberculosis, pneumonia, infections, starving, freezing, poisoning, getting kicked by a horse, giving birth…”

Rhaena shoots him a fearsome look and Luke shuts up, but of course he can’t take it back. There is a long uncomfortable silence punctuated only by birdsong and Jace’s muffled outbursts from inside the Wawa. Everyone looks at Baela, concerned, pitying, entirely unable to do anything to improve her situation. She is still eating Cheese Balls with one orange-stained hand, but the other rests on her belly.

“Clearly, the timing is less than ideal,” Baela says after a while, and if she’s terrified she doesn’t sound like it. “It wasn’t planned to begin with, but I was determined to make the best of things. I figured that I could still finish up my master’s degree with a baby, and Rhaena and our parents could help, and Jace would be done with law school soon, and it might be stressful for a while but we’d all get through it. And now…” She shrugs wryly. “Now all those plans are gone. Just gone.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Aemond says; a fierce low determination, a promise, a vow.

Baela smiles at Rio. “How old is your baby?”

He is caught off-guard, clears his throat, averts his gaze. Aegon looks over at him, alarmed. “Oh, he, uh…he’s little. Really little. He…” And Rio, so rarely at a loss for words, can’t continue. He eats his beef jerky instead.

You explain for him. “Sophie’s due date was right around the time the phones and internet went down. The last we heard, she was headed to Odessa to stay with Rio’s parents.” Aemond and his companions nod and don’t say what they’re thinking, but it’s swimming in their eyes: Sophie could have died, the baby could have died, they both could have died, you and Rio might be risking your lives to cross the continental United States for nothing. “Rio’s parents live in this…well, I joke around and call it a doomsday prepper cult, but that’s not really what it is, it’s just a farming community out in the middle of nowhere. People who have their own chickens and gardens, churn their own butter, don’t wear deodorant, make medicine out of tree bark…and a lot of them have kind of a survivalist mentality, they stock pantries and collect guns. So we figure we can reunite Rio with his family and then carve out lives for ourselves in relative peace.”

Rio reaches over to bump his fist against your shoulder. He is grateful. You punch him back, fairly forcefully; it’s like hitting a brick wall. Rio is as tall as Aemond but probably outweighs him by a hundred pounds.

You ask Aemond: “What’s in the Bay Area?”

“Our parents have a beach house. It’s up on a cliff by itself, pretty isolated, and surrounded by state parks. That’s where they were when everything shut down. I assume they’re still there.”

“Beach house?” Rio raises his eyebrows. “On a cliff?”

Rich kids. REALLY rich kids. “Your parents couldn’t just fly you to California in a private jet or something?” you say.

“Our pilots stole the jets,” Aemond replies, not realizing you were joking.

“Oh.”

“Jace and Luke’s parents were home in London, so getting there isn’t really an option, and then Baela and Rhaena…”

“Mum and Dad were on a business trip to Moscow,” Baela says. “I’d like to think they weren’t eaten, but…they were probably eaten.”

“I am so sorry,” you manage awkwardly.

A single zombie goes shuffling past the Wawa on the main street, a woman in a floral church dress, hair falling out of its curls, one pink high heel that clicks on the pavement, blood all over her mouth and chin. She notices the nine of you and begins to hiss, lurching closer. Daeron shoots her down and then trots over to retrieve his arrows, yanking them out of her cheek and eye socket. Rhaena winces. Aemond, distracted, bites into a Nature Valley granola bar. Aegon opens a can of Pringles, pizza-flavored.

Luke is peering through his binoculars, looking south towards Harrisburg. Faintly, you can see sunlight glinting off the gilded statue of a woman—the Spirit of the Commonwealth—that tops the green clay tile dome of the state capitol building. “What is that?”

“The sculpture?” you say.

“No. Farther away. Those big concrete towers, right on the water.”

Now you know exactly what he means…and you’d forgotten all about it. It’s an oversight you hope doesn’t cost too much. “That’s Three Mile Island. And we should leave so we can put more space between it and us.”

“Oh, fuck me…” Rio mutters.

Now everyone else is squinting to see the facility, barely visible from the Wawa. “Why?” Aemond asks you.

“Because it’s a nuclear power plant. And since the electricity is out everywhere, as soon as its backup generators fail, it will melt down and the whole area around it will become radioactive.”

Aegon puts two Pringles into his mouth so they look like a duck bill. “How do you know?”

“Did no one else go through a Chernobyl obsession phase in high school?”

“The professor mentioned it in one of my chemistry classes,” Aemond says, but he sounds doubtful; this must have been years ago, when he was consumed by med school prerequisites and had no space left in his brain for mere curiosity.

“Okay, listen up.” Rio knows the key points; he’s had to study different sources of electrical power. He demonstrates with dramatic hand gestures. “You have super radioactive reactor fuel, usually uranium or plutonium. You have a pool of water around it that circulates continuously. The heat of the fuel evaporates the water, which makes steam, which spins turbines, thus creating power. But if the external electricity fails, the water stops circulating, and the heat vaporizes all of it, and when there’s no more water the reactor fuel overheats and melts through the floor and poisons the earth, air, and groundwater. Any questions?”

There is a chorus of distressed chattering as people swiftly rise to their feet, clutching armfuls of snacks for the road. Jace comes trudging out of the Wawa, conspicuously not in possession of a firearm.

“No luck?” Daeron asks.

“Obviously not.” Then Jace snaps at Aemond: “Why were you stomping around all pissed off in the medicine aisle earlier? What were you looking for?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says quickly.

“Seriously, dude, what was it?”

“Nothing!”

“Damn, Plankton, calm down.” Jace shields his face from the sun, following Luke’s nervous eyeline towards the concrete cooling towers to the south. “What’s that?”

“Three Mile Island,” you say. “And we’re leaving now.”

Aegon yawns loudly. “I’m so full! Rio, can you carry me to the car?” And before anyone can tell Aegon to shut up, Rio has crouched down to let him scramble onto his back. Aegon cackles and waves his can of Pringles around as Rio sprints to the Tahoe. Now there are a few more zombies stumbling up the street, but you don’t waste arrows or bullets on them. Baela runs them down as she swerves out of the parking lot and drives northwest, heading towards Clarks Ferry Bridge where you will cross the Susquehanna River in a less populated area and commence the long slog to the Ohio border. She turns up the volume on the CD player: London Bridge by Fergie. Immediately, Rio, Aegon, Daeron, Rhaena, and Luke are singing along.

Baela checks the fuel gauge and looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “We have half a tank left.”

“We’ll find gas somewhere.”

“Aemond, it’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not going to be able to walk to California.”

Baela can’t think of a response. He’s right. Outside, the miles roll by in a blur of radiant, reptilian, early-summer green.

~~~~~~~~~~

Each time the interstate is blocked by a snarl of crashed vehicles or a backup too thick to navigate through—both common occurrences—Aegon digs the folded map out of his shorts and charts a new course for Baela to follow. This particular divergence might prove fortunate. The Tahoe has rolled into Distant, Pennsylvania, an Appalachian speck of a town, churches, coal mines, dilapidated old sheds. On the outskirts, perched on a hill and surrounded by oak trees, you find a small single-story brick house with a myriad of banners on the flagpole: an American flag, a Confederate flag, a black POW/MIA flag, Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024.

“Yeah,” Aegon says, scratching his scruffy chin as he peers up through the windshield. “I feel like they probably owned guns.”

“How do we know they’re not still home?” Baela asks warily.

“No car in the driveway,” Aemond observes. “No windows boarded up. They probably ran into trouble while they were out somewhere and never made it back.” Then he waits, the question upspoken. Are we going to risk it?

“We’re down,” Rio says after exchanging a glance with you.

Aemond turns to Jace. Jace—curly dark hair down to his shoulders, eyes on the house, chewing his full bottom lip apprehensively—doesn’t reply at first.

“You said you wanted a gun, Jace. All the Walmarts are cleaned out. This is what shopping looks like now.”

“Fine. Okay. Let’s go.”

Baela parks the Tahoe in the gravel driveway and tells Rhaena and Luke to stay inside with Helaena until the property has been cleared. The rest of you climb out, afternoon sun and mountain wind, dandelions crushed under your shoes. There’s a barn behind the house, you see now, gaps between the wooden boards and flaking red paint.

Luke is standing up through the open sunroof, inspecting the scene with his binoculars. “No movement.”

“We’ll take the house, if you want,” Rio tells Aemond. You’re clutching your borrowed baseball bat with bandaged hands, though it still feels unnatural; your M9 is in its holster in case of emergencies. Jace, Baela, and Daeron start plodding across the yard towards the barn. The grass is tall and mostly shaded, the oak trees decades old, massive, weaving a patchwork canopy of leaves.

Aegon trots over and slaps Aemond on his left shoulder, his blind side. Aemond says without looking at him: “I’ll go with them. You wait out here.”

Aegon drives an imaginary ball with his golf club. “I’m very sensitive to rejection, you know.”

“You’ll survive.” Then Aemond follows you and Rio to the house.

Rio tries the knob, locked. He doesn’t waste a bullet by trying to shoot the lock off the door, something that is far less reliable than movies would have you believe. He kicks it open instead, three tries and then the screws that secure the latch give way and the door swings ajar. You wait, counting seconds in your head, listening for growls or footsteps. There are no sounds except the breeze sighing through the trees, the warbles and wing flaps of birds. You steal a glimpse of the barn. Jace, Baela, and Daeron have unhooked the rusted iron latch and are venturing inside, Daeron last and glancing around watchfully, his compound bow already drawn. Rio steps into the house.

It’s hot, stifling, all the windows shut. But this has its advantages. You inhale deeply: no trace of decomposition, no black swampy nauseating rot, just dust and lemon Pledge and old-people staleness.

“Smells fine,” Rio says. And then, loudly: “Anyone home? We’re just looking for supplies. We don’t want to hurt you. If anybody is here, just let us know and we’d be happy to leave. And, uh, sorry about the door.”

You stay close to Rio as he sweeps through the living room—floral couch, television turned off, crosses on the walls—and then the kitchen, where bananas are turning black on the counter. Aemond is to your right; he’s placed you on his blind side. He trusts me, you think. When did that happen? You haven’t heard anything from Aegon or the barn. That must be going well.

In the bedroom, Aemond pulls the curtains open to let some light in. You search the drawers, the closet, under the bed. No weapons. The bathroom has 1950s-style pink porcelain, the dining room table is set for a meal that never happened. There is a deer head mounted on the wall, ten points, not bad.

“I can’t believe these fuckers didn’t have guns,” Rio says. “But where the hell are they?!”

You have always watched more than you’ve spoken. That’s why you’re good at shooting things, and why you’re still alive. Rio talks and you listen; Rio acts and you reflect. “Wait.” You turn to Aemond. “Did you see a cellar outside?”

“A what?” He is perplexed. “Like…a wine cellar…?”

“No. A regular cellar.” You walk back into the midday heat and circle the house, Aemond and Rio hurrying to keep up. Over by the barn, everyone else is stretched out across the grass, joking, relaxing, Baela with her hammer on the ground and her hands laced over her belly, Helaena cradling a praying mantis in her palms and showing it to Rhaena. Aegon is teaching Luke how to smoke with a pack of Marlboro Golds he found at the Wawa. Luke, game yet somewhat anxious, takes a puff and then immediately coughs until he starts retching.

“I want to try too,” Daeron says.

Aegon shakes his head, taking a nonchalant drag off his own cigarette. “Nope. Not for you. Illegal. You’re under eighteen.”

“I want to try!”

“Shut up, you can’t even vote.”

“Nobody can vote, the government has collapsed!”

You find it at the back of the house: a pair of large metal doors leading down into the underground cellar. The weeds have begun to encroach on them, wild violets and black nightshade.

“Awesome!” Rio says, lifting the doors open one at a time, the hinges shrieking. They’re heavy, but they cause him no trouble. Underneath is a staircase and a room dark with shadows; you can see a light switch that won’t work, the electricity long gone. Rio unclips the flashlight from his belt—taken from Saratoga Springs, waterproof with a 90-degree head so it doesn’t roll, known as a Moonbeam—and ducks down into the cellar. It’s a small room, easy to clear, and then you can start inventorying your findings. Rio is laughing, ecstatic. There is a workbench, a coil of thick rope, an array of tools—screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers, saws—some homemade leather wallets and holsters, cans of Brillo color spray…and then a treasure trove of weapons mounted on the walls.

You scan the collection. “We got Marlin .22s, we got Ruger Magnums, we got Remington 12 gauges, we got hunting knives…and one Glock 20.”

“A lot of ammo under here, Chips,” Rio says, yanking boxes out from beneath the workbench and stacking them on the floor, organized by caliber.

“No scopes?”

“Not that I’ve seen yet.”

You lift one of the Remingtons off its hooks and examine it: dusty, unloaded, vines of rust on the receiver. “We’ll have to go through and sight all of them. I don’t think they’ve been used in a while.”

“That’ll be a lot of noise. But here’s the place to do it, I guess. Low population, and we’re not staying.”

“Exactly.”

“Sight them for close range, like ten yards?”

“Yeah, that should work.”

Aemond says, eyebrow raised: “I didn’t know the Navy used shotguns.”

“Everyone hunts where I’m from.” You put the Remington down on the workbench then pick up the Glock, a box of 10mm ammo, and a can of Brillo. “Come on. Grab one of those hammers. I’ll show you how to shoot.”

You bound up the cellar steps and out into the shade of the oak trees, not stopping until you are at the edge of the property. Across the backyard where he lounges on the grass, Aegon gestures to the barn and asks Luke: “What’s in there anyway?”

“Nothing. Saddles and a few dead horses.”

“Oh, dynamite, I gotta see the dead horses.”

Jace says: “Aegon, man, what is your diagnosis?”

You use the can of Brillo to spray a large chocolate-colored circle onto a tree trunk, then make another two feet above that. You count your steps as you walk back towards Aemond: approximately ten yards. You load a single bullet in the Glock, aim for the bottom circle, and fire. A hole appears at the very edge of the circle. You take the hammer from Aemond and give the rear sight a few knocks. “This isn’t recommended, but it usually works.”

Aemond is smiling. “Okay.”

You load the full magazine and try again. The bullet hits closer to the middle this time. “Here. Both hands.”

Aemond takes the Glock but hesitates. “Is…my eye…?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. A lot of people close one eye anyway when they’re aiming. I always do.”

He is relieved. “Oh. Good.”

You tap the underside of the Glock. Aemond obediently lifts it. “The line of sight is slightly higher than the barrel, so you have to account for that. And then gravity will pull the bullet lower, and the longer the range of the shot, the more it will drop. So when you fire, the barrel should be angled upwards just the tiniest bit, not horizontal.”

“Like throwing a football.”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s an arc, not a straight line. At first it’ll feel like you’re trying to do all these calculations in your head, and it will be overwhelming, but then it becomes muscle memory and you don’t even have to think about it.” Jace, Baela, and Daeron are now eagerly crossing the yard to help Rio carry the guns out of the cellar and receive their own lessons. “Alright, we’re going to start with a really terrifying enemy. I want you to shoot that tree.”

“What a formidable tree.”

“Aim for the top circle. And if you hit it, then you can practice on Jace.”

Aemond laughs, butter-yellow sunlight filtering down through the trees, the shadows of leaves flickering over his skin, a mosaic of flesh and earth. You ghost your open hand down the length of his arm as if adjusting the angle. Really, you just want to touch him, to feel his warmth and his stillness, the tension of his muscles, the rhythm of his pulse. He’s watching you, lips parted, goosebumps rising beneath your fingertips. Birds are chirping, sparrows and blue jays. High above, squirrels leap and scrabble through the branches. You pull your hand away.

“Look through the sights. The rear sight at the back of the barrel is shaped like a U, and the one at the front is an I. Is the I in the middle of the U?”

“I have no idea.” A pause as he reconsiders. “Yes.”

“Right, it is, and the bullet should go exactly where you want it to because I already sighted that Glock. I’ll show you how to do it later. Now shoot the tree.”

Aemond aims but doesn’t pull the trigger. He’s nervous; he doesn’t want to seem incompetent, pathetic. You imagine it is rare that he isn’t the one with the solutions.

“Hey,” you say softly, and he looks over at you. “You don’t judge me for not knowing how to cure people. I won’t judge you for not knowing how to kill them. Deal?”

Now he’s smiling again. “Deal.” He returns his attention to the tree, lets a few more seconds tick by, and fires. He hits one of the branches. “Oh, that is…embarrassing.”

“It’s not that bad. You hit something. Try again.”

More seconds, more birdsong, more wind through the grass and the leaves. Aemond’s second bullet pierces the trunk about six inches above the top circle. “Yes!” he cheers, boyish triumph on his scarred face.

You resist touching him. It is startlingly difficult. “That was really good.”

He lowers the Glock, and you click the safety on for him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say.

“Why’d you ghost that Marine at Corpus Christi?”

“I told you. I didn’t like him enough.”

“Okay, sure, but actually. What was wrong with him?”

“I’ve known you for like twenty-four hours. You think you’ve earned all my secrets?”

“Well, not all of them,” Aemond says, grinning. Rio is showing Jace, Baela, and Daeron how to load the .22s. Aegon is swinging his golf club in circles as he follows Luke into the barn. Helaena and Rhaena are giggling as butterflies land on their outstretched fingers. “But our time together could be very finite. It seems unwise to waste it by trying to preserve some amount of mystery.”

“You’ve convinced me.” You want to be known by him, you want to be understood. That is a frightening thing to realize. It’s like handing a stranger the keys to your home. Will they visit graciously, or will they rob you, ruin you, burn you down? “I haven’t seen many examples of love working out for people. I’ve seen couples who hated each other, and couples who split up, and a lot of women having to raise kids all on their own and turning into these…bitter, exhausted, hollowed-out versions of themselves. I never wanted that to be me. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like that was just one wrong choice away from becoming my life. I don’t want men to disappoint me. So I don’t give them the chance.”

You think Aemond is going to say something cheap, flirtatious, awful: Give me a chance, baby. I won’t disappoint you. Instead he says: “I haven’t known many happy couples either. I mean…Luke and Rhaena would be the closest, I guess. But they’re so young. I’m not sure if they count.”

“Rio and Sophie seem happy. But they’ve also barely seen each other in five years.”

“It does things to you, when you start to believe love might be doomed to end or tear you apart or turn to hatred. If it’s just an evolutionary mirage to trick us into reproducing, what’s the point of giving someone that power over you?”

“Exactly.”

“I feel like one of us should be trying to talk the other out of being so fatalistically cynical.”

“Yeah, totally. Okay. You talk me out of it.”

He chuckles. “No, I don’t think I can. You talk me out of it.”

You’re watching Aemond, realizing you like everything about him—his smirk, his height, his hands, the clear direct blue of his eye—and wondering what the hell you’re going to do about it. Then there is a scream from the barn.

What?? Who??

“Luke!” Aemond shouts, and takes off across the yard. Now you’re all running, even Rhaena and Helaena who don’t have anything to fight with. Everyone is yelling, their lungs heaving in wild June air, their shoes pounding against the earth.

Inside the barn, on a wooden floor strewn with hay, Luke is shrieking as he tries to push a zombie off of him with his bare hands. She’s an older woman, grey hair in rollers, yellow nightgown stained with gore. Something has happened to her feet. Both of her legs end in exposed tibias and flapping strips of purplish, rotting skin. Aegon is beating her with his golf club, but he can’t get a good shot at her head. If he accidentally hits Luke, he could make it worse, he could stun him or even knock him out, and he’ll be bitten in the few seconds it takes anyone to remove his undead assailant. Rio lunges to grab the zombie. She snaps at him with bared teeth and he retreats, drawing his M9.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace is saying. The air is putrid: dead horses, dead people. “You’ll hit Luke!”

Your own M9 is suddenly in your hands, the safety clicked off, one eye closed. “Luke, don’t move.”

“Kill it, kill it!” he pleads hysterically, pushing the zombie as far from him as he can, his palms sinking into the decomposing bruise-colored tissue of her chest and throat.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace orders, but you ignore him. He fades into the background with all the other frenzied voices. Your finger on the trigger, a boom like thunder, bits of bone and brains against the wall. Luke shoves the corpse away, trembling, sobbing. Rhaena flies to him.

Aegon spots the fresh blood on Luke’s right hand and panics. “Is that a bite?!”

Luke notices the wound for the first time. “I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I don’t know!” Luke wails, tears flooding down his pink face.

“I thought you cleared the barn!” Aemond roars at Aegon.

“It fell out of the loft, we didn’t think anything was up there!”

Luke is blubbering: “I hit my hand against one of the stalls, I think that’s how I cut myself, I was just…I was pushing it away…I didn’t think it bit me…oh my God, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t want to die…”

“It only takes once, kid,” Rio says grimly, fidgeting with his M9, looking at Aemond as if for permission.

“Don’t touch him!” Jace hisses, stepping in front of his brother and clutching his bat. “No one is going to hurt him, it’s not a bite, you can’t prove it’s a bite!”

You reach for Luke’s bleeding hand. “Can I see—?”

“Get away from him!” Jace swings his bat. The tip of it connects with your skull, just a graze fortunately, but still enough to rattle you. Rio charges Jace, tackles him to the floor, starts throwing punches. Baela has apparently forgotten she’s heavily pregnant and is trying to pull them apart. You join her.

He’s going to demolish Jace. He’s going to break his nose or jaw or something. “Rio stop, I’m fine, stop!”

There is another gunshot, a cataclysmic earth-shaking explosion that makes the pain in your head surge from a ripple to a wave. Aemond is aiming his Glock skywards; a hole has appeared in the roof of the barn. “Stand up!” he commands. Rio and Jace reluctantly comply. You help Baela to her feet.

“Aemond,” Jace says. “You have to stop them, they’re going to kill Luke—”

“No one is killing anybody.” Aemond lowers his Glock. “Maybe he’s been bitten. Maybe he hasn’t been. And even if we knew for sure that he was going to turn, we don’t just execute people like this, threatening them when they’re terrified. We have humanity. We have compassion.”

There is a silence that strikes you as heavy, laden, holding meaning that escapes you. Aegon points at Luke. “So what the fuck are we going to do about him?”

“We’ll tie him up,” Aemond decides.

“What?!” Luke exclaims.

“There’s rope in the cellar. We’ll tie his arms and legs so he can’t do anything and keep him like that for a few days until either his hand heals up or he turns into a zombie. Someone will always have to be with him to help him eat and take a piss and also…you know. Deal with it if he turns.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says immediately.

Aemond’s voice is now gentle, sympathetic. “I don’t think you want this.”

“If Luke has to die, I should be the person with him.”

“You’ve never had to put someone down before.” And in this statement lives another: Aemond knows what that feels like. Aemond has had to kill someone when they turned.

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says again, this frail harmless doe-eyed girl, and you see a steeliness in her that you hadn’t thought existed.

“Okay,” Aemond relents. “When you’re asleep, Jace or I will take over.”

“It’s not a bite,” Jace murmurs, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“We’ll all find out soon enough,” Rio says, casting him a glare, then goes to fetch the coil of rope from the cellar.

Aemond cleans and bandages the wound on Luke’s hand. Then the weapons, ammo, and newly immobilized Luke are loaded into the Tahoe. Aemond asks you once everyone else is inside: “How’s your head?”

“Fine, I think.”

“Hurts?”

“Just a little.”

“Dizzy? Double vision?”

“No, nothing like that.”

He takes a quick look, parting your hair with his fingertips, feeling gingerly for blood and swelling. And this is becoming a serious problem: every time he touches you, you want more.

“Aemond…who did you have to kill?”

He doesn’t answer. For another moment his hand lingers by your temple, then Aemond turns away and climbs into the Tahoe. This time, no one sings along to the next song on the mixtape. Heads rest on windows, eyes are vacant and misty. Baela steers the Tahoe westbound on Route 1004, the Chainsmokers drifting through the speakers: All We Know.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Pick a card, any card,” Aegon says when he’s done shuffling. He fans out the entire Uno deck face-down and offers it to Rio, Aemond, and Jace. They each select a card, then Aegon picks one for himself. Finally, he holds out the deck to Luke, who stares up incredulously from where he’s still bound with rope and sitting on a curb in the parking lot of a Burger King just outside of Yarnell, Pennsylvania.

“Are you serious?”

“You’re an adult male, aren’t you? You think being in the middle of transforming into an undead murder machine exempts you from gasoline siphoning duty?”

“I’m fine!” Luke insists.

“Great. Then pick a card.”

“I can’t move my hands, you idiot.”

“Pick it with your mouth.”

“I hate you.” Luke bites his card of choice and waits with it clasped between his teeth, glowering.

“I want to pick a card,” Daeron says cheerfully.

Aegon refuses. “No. Too young. A baby.”

“Aegon, I’m seventeen!”

“Can’t enlist, can’t do jury duty, can’t buy lottery tickets, can’t sign up to drink gasoline. Okay, everybody show their cards.”

“I got a three,” Jace says, then yanks Luke’s card out of his mouth and reads it. “He got a skip.”

Aemond’s card is a nine, Rio’s a five, Aegon’s a reverse. “That means you lose, Jace,” Aegon announces, admittedly rather gleeful. “You had the lowest number.”

“This is bullshit, I had to siphon last time!”

“Then stop picking bad cards.”

“Jace, I can do it,” Aemond says.

“And get to be the martyr, as usual? No thanks. Give me the damn hose.”

Aegon roots around under the Tahoe seats and produces a long, semitransparent siphoning hose. “All the ones with the little pump attachments were sold out everywhere by the time we thought that might be useful,” he explains to you and Rio.

“That sucks, Jace,” Rio says. “I mean, literally, it sucks.”

“Next time we cross a bridge, I’m pushing you off it.” Jace takes the hose from Aegon, pops open the gas cap of the Dodge Ram 3500 you’ve found, and threads the hose down into the tank. He sucks on the other end and then shoves it into the Tahoe once the gasoline starts flowing. The fuel gauge was hovering just above E. Hopefully you can get at least a few gallons out of the Ram, another fifty or a hundred miles, maybe even two hundred, enough to get you across the Ohio border.

Jace is bent over and vomiting gasoline onto the pavement. Rhaena and Baela sit with Luke as Aemond feels his forehead and peers into his eyes. Daeron accompanies Helaena as she goes to scavenge inside the Burger King, her burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Rio is now holding the siphoning hose and watching the liquid gold pour into the Tahoe, his smile growing with each passing second. Your eyes fall on Aemond and stay there, his careful hands, his brow knitted with concentration.

A whisper from behind you: “We could fake date to make him jealous.”

You whirl to see Aegon, mischievous smirk, neon green plastic sunglasses. “That is a super generous offer and I appreciate the thought you put into it, but no.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dishonest. It’s manipulative. If something is going to happen with Aemond, I want it to be real.”

Aegon sighs. “No, you’re right, it was a dumb idea. I just figured I have a lot of experience.”

“Experience with what?”

“People pretending to love me.” He flashes a strange, sad smile, then follows Daeron and Helaena into the Burger King.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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razztazzel · 3 months ago

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Epic pfp mention and more about my dandy design since I think people like him, ALSO I DONT THINK IVE EVER SHOWN THE CONCEPT OF MY ASTRO REDESIGN AAAGGH

Anyway dandy design info dump

He’s already twisted, surprise??

He consumes ichor because he’s a weirdo

Due to ichor consumption he’s able to alternate his body with it (hence the reshaping of his petals)

Because of the fact above he has multiple different twisted forms I think like…3… I will be going over them in more detail in a different post cause why not but ones shown here!!! (It’s stationary) each comes with their own trinket 🫡

@fermithesilly Surprise!!!!!! I loved the concept of this sleepyhead and couldn’t help but doodle herr!!! Also sick template btw definitely gonna use it in the future again

ima be drawing more ocs from super cool people 🐇🫶🫶 looking at you @piquuroblox I just wanna let you two know that both your and fermi’s reblog comments are so sweet (as much as everyone else’s are) and I’ve caught myself re reading them a lot lolol… AND I DINT KNOW HOW TO TELL YOY GUYS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE ITT 😿😿🫶🫶 — not very active here even though it’s literally the second social I have.. (and the only second..) but I am getting way more active than I used to!!! I’m gonna reblog things more aha… 🫡🫡

#art #dandys world #oc #oc art #roblox #game #RAAAAAAGGHGHHGHGHH COOL PEOPLE LIKE ME?!!!!

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coolgrl111 · 15 days ago

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LOVESTRUCK

famous!patrick zweig x unknown!reader

a/n: i’m sorry i had too much fun with this. don’t take it too seriously 😭😭😭😭

inspired by @222col !!!!

———

liked by artdonaldson, yourusername and 305,884 others

patrickzweig Life is good right now 🤙💞

view all comments

artdonaldson okay awesome where am i?

user my bf is so cutie pie

user WAITTT OMG who is the girl

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yourusername 💋❤️

— patrickzweig ❤️

— artdonaldson hey guys i exist too btw :)

user BOYYY arts goofy ass trying to get in😭😭

user IS THAT HERR? did he just reveal her already. bro has no subtlety

— patrickzweig mind ur business pls 😣

———

liked by patrickzweig, tashiduncan and 101 others

yourusername second slide is me and the bf ❤️‍🔥

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patrickzweig USSSS ITS SO US!!!!

— yourusername US!!!💘😣💘😣💘😣

patrickzweig so pretty so stylish

patrickzweig us coded 🤓

yourbestfriend is that my belt

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— yourusername my bf is also ur bf

tashiduncan The prettiest angel baby

— yourusername you’re my pretty princess queen 🫵🫵💝💝💝💝

user i think this is patrick’s girlfriend?????

— user how do you know??

— user well she looks the same as the girl from his post and tashi, art and pat follow her so maybe?

user WAIT IS THIS HER

user she’s not even all that😭

yourbestfriend ANGEL

user when’s it my turn ☹️

user adorbs😘😘😘😘

———

liked by yourusername, artdonaldson and 704,295 others

patrickzweig Onwards and upwards, lads! ☺️

view more comments

user HARD LAUNCHHHHH

yourusername i’m just the luckiest gal!

— patrickzweig im luckier!

— artdonaldson you’re not a girl pat

artdonaldson my favs 🔥🧊

user awww they’re cute

adidas These are 🔥, Patrick!

yourusername my man my man

tashiduncan YAAAAAYYYY

user stick to hitting balls pls😭😭

user i thought he was dating madison beer wait

— user what why😭😭😭

artdonaldson hey i play tennis too guys

— tashiduncan your bisexuality is showing

— artdonaldson wait haha im not gay tashi haha what???

#fanfic #challengers #mike faist #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fanfic #josh o connor #josh o'connor #tashi duncan #patrick #patrick zweig fanfic #patrick zweig x reader #social media au #challengers social media au

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skeletonsloverockcandy · 8 months ago

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Man, each year I get to it, I love the May 5th entry and what it means. I take something new from it each time. Like last year I noticed the sacrifices and efforts the Driver and the other passengers made to try and save Jonathan, a stranger to them, by showing up early, by giving him gifts, by blessing him, despite the danger that puts them in. Especially when Dracula, as the driver, points it out to the Driver of the first coach, what he was trying to do, and scares him by pointing out what he said (despite it being heard far out of normal earshot and over the sound of horses galloping).

This year though, I notice that, but I see some of the smaller details too. Like how the mountains are full of blooming fruit trees, and how we are so used to the “gothic” aesthetic we almost forget it’s Spring. How Jonathan takes notice and comfort in the view, despite the growing unease he feels because of the people around him. He is trying to distract himself from how scared he’s getting based on their warnings. Warding him from the Evil Eye.

"No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—"and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep."

I also take notice of this from the driver, as it’s almost a morbid gallows humor that he clearly knows to expect the wolves, and knowing what happens later, I’m sure the people here have a horrible fear of them, knowing what Dracula can do…and what he does to that poor mother later.

There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

We also get here what might be our first indication that the Count can control the weather to an extent.

They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.

All I can imagine is Dracula in a fake beard now lol.

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:—

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:—

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

But God, this must have been terrifying for the driver and the passengers. What would Dracula do to punish them for trying to escape him? Would he dare make an example in front of the Englishman right now, or would he grant them mercy to say nothing else as Jonathan is unsuspectingly led to his doom, so they think.

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile.

It feels like they’re all in on some sick joke that they know the punchline to, but Jonathan doesn’t, so with the dramatic irony, it feels like we the readers are the same peasants, trying to do anything to save or warn Jonathan but it’s already too late.

I also notice how quickly Dracula tries to shift the power dynamic with Jonathan, and have him doubt his sanity so soon, and he’s not even in the castle yet.

He drives him in circles to try and disorient Jonathan and make him feel even more lost, also keeping him out for far later and making Jonathan question if he’s dreaming or if what he’s seeing is real. I’d also bet more than anything that wine he offer Jonathan on the coach that Jonathan didn’t end up taking was drugged. Because it’s far easier to disorient an unconscious passenger in the dark than it is to disorient a conscious passenger. But he still does a pretty darn good job.

Then there’s the blue flames, which Jonathan doesn’t know how to react to as they seem supernatural and he doesn’t know how to rationalize it yet, so he takes it as if he’s dreaming.

This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Jonathan also has already felt the fear and nerves associated with the supernatural and superstition after what all of the townsfolk have told him, and later he tries to brush this off and rationalize again, try not to get too scared, but a part of him already realizes something is wrong.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.

I also want to point this out, as it’s right before the wolves surround the coach, but it’s the second time a “dog” has been mentioned howling in the night, and with this evidence, I bet Dracula uses the wolves as a threat to keep the peasants and townsfolk in line, as he can’t munch down on everyone. But it shows how powerful he is and what a threat he poses. I wonder who the wolves kill in the night.

Also how Jonathan, as an Englishman where there were no more native wolves, can’t even imagine that’s what they were and thinks they are dogs.

And it makes sense now that earlier when Jonathan was getting out his good ol’ polyglot dictionary, how the two words mean the same thing.

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.

As Dracula, as we see later, can transform into a wolf himself, and so there is probably less distinction between the two in this culture than we have tried to establish in the modern day.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.

Ah, I wonder if this is an early indication that Dracula cannot be depicted through traditional means? Like how he can’t be seen in the mirror. Certain lights just, pass through him.

I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap.

We also see Jonathan taking an active and proactive approach, in this manner trying to be helpful and aid his (what he assumes human) driver. With these sorts of actions already, I can see signs of the man who will pick up a shovel to try and do what needs to be done. Who takes a knife and vows action, not hesitating.

He is polite right now, he’s on business. He doesn’t know what’s coming. But regardless, that person is still in him, and he’s capable of taking great action and doing great things for the sake of survival and doing what he thinks is right.

And Dracula commanding the wolves to stop as the driver, and the cloud passing overhead, I feel is like a subtle display of power and threat to Jonathan. He’s still playing pretend, but when Jonathan does figure out he was the coach the whole time, and he plays coy, the Count knows Jonathan will remember this threat, and it feels that much more sinister.

Jonathan still questions and thinks he fell asleep, as he doesn’t see how he’d have missed the approach of the castle otherwise, but I think he was awake because it was dark, and the count was intentionally taking him a winding and confusing path under a lot of fear. Though if he did fall asleep, I’m that much more terrified about how Dracula was driving him about, now secure in the knowledge that Jonathan would be thoroughly isolated and lost.

And the thing that nearly gives Dracula away twice as the driver is the strength of his grip on Jonathan’s hand, also lacing a subtle threat.

through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate.

Well this is just scary knowing how trapped Jonathan becomes later, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world, and how the outside world might not be able to hear him, and how he’s already acknowledging that.

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

He already is expressing doubts and fears, he isn’t ignorant of what situation he might be in, and it’s only later when he tries to rationalize with the count and is given the comforts manipulation of food and sleep, that he tries to dismiss these fears and take the Count at his word.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

Okay, this is just really cute. Mina said You passed the Bar, you Deserve to call yourself a Solicitor Jonathan <3

Also explains a lot that Jonathan is a fresh faced baby lawyer who just passed the bar and needs this assignment. He’s probably hoping that after this pay day he can marry Mina and have enough for them to start making a life together. Also says a lot for Dracula’s strategy to him to get someone young, inexperienced, and unfamiliar with the area, who might be seen as “expendable” so that Jonathan’s sudden “disappearance” might go unremarked by those in charge (though Mina would notice).

I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Again, those early signs of doubt and fear from Jonathan, showing his unease already at the situation. We did not deserve to be clowning on him so much when this book club first started. It’s not his fault he’s not genre aware 😔 I’m sorry Jonathan.

And when Drac does show up to open the door:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.

I wonder if he’s like that because he needs to be invited into places to be there, so if it’s almost like a supernatural hold of importance for him to offer the same thing. Almost like a subtle joke or curse with the knowledge that after Jonathan enters, he won’t be allowed to leave of his own will

holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

I also like how all the clues are there, and since Jonathan has written them down and taken note of them, the expression on them must be some of the things he’s piercing together about his own fears as well that he’s afraid to voice aloud or in his journal, because if he voices his suspicions, they might become more real to him.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking

See? He knows what’s up, he’s just afraid to say it.

I also didn’t pick up that Jonathan’s room is octagonal for some reason. I wonder if there’s any reason for that or symbolism with the 8 sides?

Also the letter from Mr. Hawkin’s feels very ominous in retrospect knowing what’s coming and how Dracula will treat Jonathan:

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

I feel like Dracula knew to take advantage of that, and also this feels like him basically reading the menu for an ideal victim once his business is said and done, so I get shivers, brrrrr.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

I also like that while Jonathan is describing Dracula, he notice his hands. And I am also struck with how little it is brought up that he has hair on his palms, and I can see the more wolf-like nature of this vampire mythology. I wonder if Bram Stoker intended for werewolves and vampires to be the same thing in his novel? They are certainly compared and have similar powers and weaknesses, so it’s possible I guess.

Also Dracula has corpse-breath lol. Nasty.

I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves.

Ah ha! Also the first foreshadowing we get for the importance of dawn and dusk in the novel, as we know later how important timing becomes for our protagonists, so seeing its affects already make me smile at the recognition of the signs so early.

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter."

And ah, an iconic line. Though I just get second hand angry and uncomfortable at Dracula’s insistence that he’s a “hunter” 🤢. God I just hate him haha.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

And literally Day 1 of being in the castle and Jonathan is already questioning his sanity and piecing things together he’s afraid to even voice in his journal. This is the second time in as many days he has already wished that those around him find this journal and laments should anything bad happen to him. It creates the impression of one who knows they’re walking into danger but must go on anyway.

But I love Jonathan so much, and I definitely really like the May 5th entry, and it does so much work to set up what happens later.

#dracula daily #dracula #Dracula daily may 5 #Dracula may 5th #jonathan harker #count dracula #re: dracula #dracula meta #my post #original post #Skele talks #skele talks Dracula #long post #skele analysis #Dracula analysis #mina murray #mina harker

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seokgyuu · 8 months ago

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Coming back home for the summer hasn’t been fun in ages. Thankfully, that is just about to change when you lay eyes on Matthew who, according to Taerae, isn’t into older girls. Never backing down from a challenge you decide to approach him anyways - making yourself younger than you actually are and calling Matthew “oppa” more times than probably necessary.

Pairing: Seok Matthew x Fem!Reader

Genre: Comedy, Smut

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Reader is actively lying to Matthew to get into his pants, loads and loads of usage of the word “oppa”, alcohol drinking (idk in what country this universe is, they call each other with honorifics but they kind of are in the states because i made the drinking age 21…. just don’t pay it any mind ok, it’s porn disguised as a funny story) , this work contains adult content! MDNI! Smut warnings under the cut!

Playlist: Hot in Herre - Nelly (you’ll get it), Yeah - Usher, Murder on the Dancefloor - Sophie Ellis-Bextor, Break Your Heart - Taio Cruz, Durch den Monsun - Tokio Hotel

A/N: thank you sm @xscoupsx for the perfect header & divider!!! absolute masterpiece i am still staring at it. finally got this worm out of my brain!!! take this with a grain of salt, it's all fun and giggles. Tags: @cheolism, @the-boy-meets-evil

When you get home that day it’s his number on your phone (that he saved as ‘matthew oppa’ of course) that pops up asking if you made it home safely. It’s Taerae’s number that pops up to let you know he’s blocking you. Giggling, you fall down onto your bed, your slippers hanging off your feet threatening to fall off any second, but instead of caring, you open up instagram. You find him quick and easy, Seok Matthew followed by Gyuvin and Taerae and Hanbin and basically everyone you know in this small town. How come you’ve never seen him before?

Smut warnings: oppa kink, sexting, masturbation (f&m), unprotected sex (booo!), blowjob, cumming in mouth, lmk if i missed anything!

“Forget it. He’s not into older girls.”

Taerae is sipping on his milkshake watching you watch his former classmate and friend Matthew. You’re in the mall in Taerae’s hometown which also happens to be your hometown. You’ve left for college around a year and a half ago and coming back here never truly excites you anymore. Or at least it didn’t use to. Now, looking at the young man outside of Mikey’s Milkshakes handing out flyers with sweat dripping down his temples, you think that just about changed.

“He doesn’t know that I’m older,” you shoot back, sucking on your own straw and enjoying the taste of peanut butter on your tongue.

“You look older, noona.”

A napkin hits Taerae’s forehead. It was you. You threw the napkin. He just chuckles and shakes his head

“No, you don’t get it. Matthew is… weird. Like he has this whole thing where he hates when people call him cute. He gets all upset and tells them he isn’t cute, he’s Woohyun oppa.”

While you do cringe, you also find it quite interesting. You’ve heard of this before - younger guys who didn’t like to be younger. He was Taerae’s age, so freshly 21 and attending the local college with Tae, which meant if anything he would have to go for girls 18 or 19 and, come on, they surely couldn’t please him like you!

“How convenient,” you smile in a way that makes Taerae shiver in something close to fear, “I’ve always wanted to try calling a younger guy oppa.”

“You’re horrible,” Tae comments, shoving his milkshake away from him, “horrible and crazy. He is never going to fall for you being younger.”

“Really? Want to make this interesting then?” The evil grin on your face certainly means nothing but trouble. But it’s summer and this town is boring as hell with nothing ever happening. So, why not? Taerae shakes your hand, betting against you that you, in fact, will not succeed to bed Matthew. It’s not just pride that’s on the line but also free milkshakes for the rest of the summer.

You somehow convince your friend Gyuvin to act like you’re his same age cousin from a different town. As it turns out he also knows Matthew. How does everyone know this guy but you? And why has no one ever mentioned to you how they have an extremely attractive friend who just so happens to have an oppa kink?

It’s honestly a mystery to you how Taerae didn’t think you’d be able to pull off being a 04’ liner. You can pretend to be way younger than you are! You don’t look like you’re twenty-three! Matthew is eating out of your hand by lunch. He listens to you attentively and everytime you call him “oppa” he seems to melt into his chair.

His profile isn’t private which means you didn’t have to follow him to stalk his 103 posts, but you still do. It saddens you that you can’t comment things like “you look so good, oppa” or “woah, that color looks so perfect on you, oppa”, but you digress. Sucking on a popsicle from the freezer, you scroll through his feed, seeing that he definitely hasn’t been this hot for a long time. There is a ringing in your ear and you try to lose it by scratching it. What the hell? Back to Matthew, please! Just last year he looked like a teenager freshly hitting puberty and now? He’s buff and handsome and just thinking about what might be under that shirt makes your thighs press together. Perhaps you have a serious problem because when you spot the highlight saying “gym” with the flexing arm emoji, you are already halfway down with your hand to touch yourself.

His gym pics are a goldmine for your dirty fantasies and thoughts about the man you’re planning to seduce. There is one where he flexes his arm and grinning while winking into the mirror he’s taking the pic in. Then there is the one where he is sitting on the bench press, leaned forward with a half smirk, his tight tank top leaving nothing to the imagination. The shorts he’s wearing make you feel dizzy and as you imagine what his cock would look like and what he would feel like inside of you, you begin to circle your clit with your thumb, throwing your head back as you continue your fantasy. Matthew and you on that bench press, his strong arms holding you down as he fucks into you mercilessly.

A ‘ping’ disrupts your session and you open your eyes, looking down to see he had texted you again. It’s almost comical - you thinking about him fucking you and touching yourself to that thought and him texting you a “it was so nice to meet you” message as if you weren’t thinking about him fucking your brains out.

Sighing, you pull your hand out of your panties, wiping them off on your shorts and decide to text him back.

matthew oppa: it was so nice to meet you

you: you too, oppa <3

matthew oppa: hehe

matthew oppa: so, what are your plans this week?

you: hmm, not much… why?

matthew oppa: oh well, i was wondering if maybe you’d wanna go to a drive in with me?

you: ohh, like watching a movie in a car?

matthew oppa: yeah, exactly!

Now, this is where your current horniness decides to take over. Licking over your lips you sink deeper into your pillows, your slippers completely fallen off now, your legs spreading slightly as you stare at the screen, thinking about how you can make this guy jerk off to you right now without sounding too experienced.

you: well… i would love to see you again, oppa, but…

matthew oppa: but…?

you: my friends… they told me some things about drive ins you know

matthew oppa: huh? what things?

you: uhm… like that when you go to a drive in with a boy… well you know 🙈

matthew oppa: oh

matthew oppa: y/n you don’t have to worry

matthew oppa: i won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, oppa promises

you: that’s nice of you to say, oppa💕

you: but… what if i want something you’re not comfortable with?

matthew oppa: what do you mean?

you: it’s embarrassing 🥺

matthew oppa: you don’t have to be embarrassed with oppa, yn

you: ok if you say so…

you: it’s just that i know we only met today but

you: i just can’t stop thinking about you

matthew oppa: that’s cute

matthew oppa: oppa can’t stop thinking about you too, if that makes you feel better baby

Baby. You bite down on your lip. As much as it makes you cringe it makes your pussy wet, the way he speaks and reacts, how he addresses himself as ‘oppa’. You wonder if maybe your need to get laid is taking over the intelligence you usually inhabit.

you: really? 🥺

matthew oppa: yeah

you: are you also… thinking naughty thoughts, oppa?

matthew oppa: oh

matthew oppa: are you thinking naughty thoughts, baby?

you: idk… 🥺

matthew oppa: you can be honest with oppa, baby, i would never judge you

you: i am thinking naughty thoughts

matthew oppa: like what?

you: saw oppa’s instagram… your gym highlight

matthew oppa: you liked it?

you: a lot 🙈

matthew oppa: how much did you like it, baby?

you: so much that i got all wet… down there

You want to die and at the same time you don’t think you’ve been this wet (down there) in ages. Not the dude from the semester end party who had fucked you in the smallest bathroom known to mankind and most certainly not Jiwoong last summer. You wonder if anyone has ever made you this wet without even physically being present.

matthew oppa: fuck

matthew oppa: you got wet just from my pictures? you like oppa that much?

you: i do… it’s so embarrassing

you: stared at you the whole day today… now i want you to do bad things to me, oppa

matthew oppa: yeah? what do you want me to do?

you: wanna get on my knees for you and have oppa fuck my mouth 🙈

matthew oppa: shit… got my cock so hard from just reading that, baby.

you: does oppa wanna fuck my mouth?

matthew oppa: fuck yeah. your mouth and your wet pussy baby

you: i’m so wet oppa, so wet for you 🥺

matthew oppa: can i call you?

He ends up calling you before you can respond his raspy voice on the other side of the line already telling you he’s getting off. What follows is just the two of you simultaneously masturbating while telling the other dirty things you wanna do to each other. He tells you how he wants to fuck you (his main fantasy seems to be you on all fours and him behind you drilling into you like a sledgehammer) and how you need him to fill you inexperienced pussy.

Obviously you don’t say that, you just hint at it. Matthew wants to be an oppa, he wants someone younger who looks up to him - especially in a sexual way. So, of course you’re gonna lie to him and tell him you’ve only had sex like twice and both times had been five minutes tops and you also had never had a guy make you cum or cum inside of you. All of these are lies. Your body count has gotten to a point of you not even remembering anymore and the amount of plan bs you had taken should probably be illegal. You’re not responsible when it comes to fucking and you are well aware. Matthew, though, doesn’t need to know this.

When he cums with your name on his lips and you cum begging for him to fill you up, you call it a night.

The drive in idea doesn’t come up again. You worry for a day that he might have lost interest. Then, you hear from Gyuvin that the drive in had to close because there was a fire and Matthew has just been swamped with work. You deem that as a good enough reason for him to leave you on read for approximately two seconds before it starts to piss you off. Thankfully, summers in your hometown promise extreme ragers every weekend to which you are sure Matthew will come too. At least you hope he does.

Out of all people, Jiwoong is the one to throw the first big rager of the summer and even knowing that Jiwoong could very easily blow your cover, you decide to go. With your sluttiest little dress and some skimpy underwear on, Taerae only sighs when you get into his car.

“You will give the man a damn heart attack,” he comments as he turns out of your parents driveway. You chuckle.

“Let’s hope that happens after I win that bet against you, Taetae.”

“You truly are a horrible person. Lying to get into someone’s pants? Shouldn’t that be below you?”

“Dramaqueen.” You roll your eyes and pull down the visor to open the small mirror and check your make-up.

“I’m just saying,” Taerae continues as he stops at a traffic light, “watch out. If he finds out you’re lying chances are he’s gonna be mad.”

“Come on. I’ve lived in this town my whole fucking life. If anything it’s kind of his fault for not knowing me.”

It is odd. How he has apparently been in Taerae’s class all this time and neither of you knew each other. But then again, how were you supposed to know everyone? You don’t see Taerae looking at you with the biggest side eye. And even if you had, you probably wouldn’t have cared.

Jiwoongs house is huge. His parents are both lawyers or whatever and you remember vividly how one of Jiwoong’s friends wanted to hit on you, some small unremarkable guy you had already forgotten the name of, and how Jiwoong saved you from him, getting your pussy as a thank you. In his parent’s room. You wonder if they ever found out.

There is already loud music playing when you get to the house, Tae parking his car in the last available spot on the street. Getting out, you try your best not to flash the people walking past you and Tae chuckles when you land on your heels a little shaky. You decide to ignore him and just start walking towards the door, him right behind you. Right at the entrance you already spot Gyuvin with Ricky and Gunwook and you raise your brows when you spot a red cup on the latter’s hand.

“It’s coke, noona, I swear!” He says the second you reach him, showing off the contents of his cup by tilting it slightly. Clicking your tongue you nod in approval, moving on to the other two.

“Technically,” Gyuvin says, his own cup suspiciously close to his chest and far away from your glaring eyes, “you are the same age as us tonight, so…,” he seriously tries to talk him out of this. You put your hands on your hips and look at him, Ricky, his cup, Ricky’s cup. The two share a gaze before sighing and finally handing the cups to you. You smile triumphantly.

“Very good. Thank you, boys.”

“Aaaand these are for me, thank you very much,” a voice startles you, taking the two cups from your hands. Your look to your right and see Taerae grinning widely.

“What? If they are underage, so are you, bestie.”

Waving with his occupied hands, Tae goes inside humming along to the music. You groan and roll your eyes, knowing full well you did this to yourself but also hating Taerae because this was obviously all his fault.

“Now, now. We can all have a wonderful time without alcohol!” Gunwook smiles widely and if he wasn’t so adorable you might have punched him in the stomach. Instead, you just sigh once more and walk into the house, leaving the three boys behind.

Inside, there is a big crowd of people gathered in the spacey living room and your eyes are already scanning your surroundings for Matthew. While you really want him to fuck you (like so much you literally thought about not wearing any panties just for him. Then you put on your dress and realized there was no way in hell), you also need to stay in character. You are innocent, shy, a young girl who needs her oppa to show her the ropes. Perhaps, you are even a little insecure because he left you on read for two days, who knows?

It doesn’t take long to spot him. And when you do, you are suddenly thankful Tae took the cups away from you because you for sure would have dropped them. It’s almost comical that Nelly’s “Hot in Herre”starts playing right this second.

Matthew has his hair styled up, a few strands falling into his forehead, his face so perfectly on display you want to place kisses all over it. And as if that wasn’t enough, there is a white sleeveless shirt on his muscular body that lets everyone know he is buff and proud of it.

Fuck. You need him. Like, right now.

No one has ever looked that fucking delicious, you decide. He is the yummiest person on this planet and you’re gonna have him.

For a few moments, you only watch him. Watch how he talks to someone you don’t know, how he nips at his cup, how he laughs at a joke. It’s a miracle you haven’t started drooling. People keep on walking around you and only when one nearly runs you over, you decide to move closer to Matthew. So far, he hasn’t seen you.

Biting down on your lip, you wonder how you could best catch his attention without going right over to him. The solution presents itself in the form of Hanbin standing leaned against the wall with a cup in one and his phone in the other hand.

Showtime. You grin to yourself. Then, you get into character.

“Hanbin oppa!” You squeal, loud enough for Matthew and the girl he is talking to hear. And when Matthew sees you, sees the way you beam at Hanbin, he feels a sting in his pride. His eyes burn into you, making you feel hot all over.

Hanbin, on the other hand, is more than confused. Mainly because you’re older than him and just called him oppa.

“Uh, what?”

“Play along, or you’re dead,” you say with the same enthusiastic beam as before, your voice lowered for only Hanbin to hear. He clears his throat and nods. He knows not to mess with you and your antics.

“S-sure, uhm, whats up?”

“Trying to make Matthew think I wanna fuck you instead of him,” you laugh loudly, as if he had said something funny, your left hand slightly hitting his shoulder, while the other twirls a strand of hair around your finger. Hanbin’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Right, Tae mentioned you were doing that.” He shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and watches you with his brows still raised.

“Don’t judge me, Sung Hanbin. I remember very well how you tried to get with Katie last summer and literally told her your dad invented fucking Microsoft.”

“Is it my fault she didn’t know Bill Gates?” Hanbin defends himself right away and you chuckle.

“No. Is it my fault Matthew’s into younger girls?”

Hanbin stays silent for a beat, the song now changing to Usher’s “Yeah” and you wonder what decade you’re in.

“Fair point. But then again I’m just confused becau-,”

“Y/N!”

An arm is wrapped around your waist the next second, an arm you’ve been fantasizing over for days now.

“Oppa, hi,” your eyes are basically hearts staring up at him. Hanbin thinks he’s very likely stuck in a simulation.

“Hyung,” Matthew smiles at Hanbin, but even someone blind could have figured out it wasn’t an actual smile, “I think Hao hyung is looking for you. Better go check on him, yeah?”

Hao hyung definitely isn’t looking for him. Hao hyung is upstairs with a cute boy and a cute girl and Hanbin is well aware. Taking this as his leave, he nods at both of you and leaves you to your idiotic game.

“Hey,” Matthew now looks at you, eyes softening only slightly.

“Hi,” you repeat yourself, biting down on your lip.

“I was hoping to see you here.”

He moves closer to you, your back hitting the wall and his other hand tugging a loose hair behind your ear.

“Did you? I thought maybe you weren’t interested anymore after we, you know….” You truly deserve an Oscar for the performance you’re giving. Matthew licks over his lips.

“After you came so good for me on the phone, you mean?” His eyes bore into yours and your panties are seemingly swimming away.

“I- I, yes, after that.”

“Of course oppa is still interested, baby. Oppa just had a lot of work, oppa is sorry.”

He leans closer to you, both hands now on your waist and you can feel the growing tension.

“Oppa..,” you whimper when he is right there, so close to kiss you.

“Oppa has been thinking about you and your tight pussy all week, will you let Oppa fuck her?”

You moan when his hands creep around and squeeze your ass.

“W-We didn’t even r-really talk!” You cry after, but Matthew just chuckles, his lips hovering over your own.

“We can still talk after, doll. Now I desperately need to sink my cock into you, ‘am already so fucking hard.”

And then he kisses you. Kisses you hard and so full of lust and desperation your knees give in. He pulls you closer against him and you can feel he didn’t lie. He is hard. You decide not to give it too much thought as of why.

Instead, you part from him, breathlessly and grab his hand to take him to the one room you know for sure won’t be occupied.

Matthew’s hands are all over you. Groping your boobs one second, then they are back on your ass, all while Murder On the Dancefloor blasts through the house. Desperation radiates off of him and you bathe in it. Bathe in the way he drags your dress up and touches every second of skin he frees. His lips chase yours in haste and you wrap your arms around his neck, letting him push you towards the large bed in the center of the room.

“Shit, you’re so hot,” he whispers against your lips and you suck his tongue into your mouth as a response. You know he’s already hard. Can feel it when you press your hand against his crotch. He moans and kisses you harder, tongue continuously slapping against yours like he needs to prove a point.

Your back hits the bed seconds later, his thigh pressed between yours against your clothed cunt that’s already throbbing with want.

“Want you so bad, oppa,” you cry out, hands fumbling with that god forsaken muscle shirt that has got your pussy wet the second you spotted him in it. He rips off his body the next second and you sigh in absolute bliss. Immediately, you move to touch his toned torso, his defined abs, his perfect shoulders. Fuck, he is incredibly hot.

“Yeah? Want oppa to fuck you, hm?” His voice is deep and raspy against your ear and you nod rapidly, moving your hips against his thigh. Matthew chuckles, hands back to squeeze your tits, causing you to arch your back against him. His touch feels intoxicating, already got you addicted. It’s the way he is still oh so desperate for you. His kisses are sloppy and his cock is hard against you, his hips moving for any kind of friction. A part of you wants to take your sweet time with him, put him in your mouth, have him come undone on your tongue. Work him so long until he can fuck you for real. But there is a party downstairs and people will eventually notice you’re gone.

“Put it in me, oppa, please, please, please.”

He groans at your begging, his head nodding as if in trance, quickly ridding you of your panties and himself of his pants. You watch with a heaving chest how he doesn’t even fully shove his jeans and briefs down his legs, how they pool there at his ankles as he gets on his knees and flips you over. You gasp in surprise, another enormous wave of lust overcoming you when he pulls you up, your ass in the air, the perfect position for him to fuck you like he wanted to.

Matthew is surprised he isn’t foaming at the mouth with you in front of him like this. His eyes are glued to your glistening pussy, his cock hard against his stomach. Grabbing his cock, he jerks himself off a few times before guiding himself to your entrance - only to stop just before he breaches you.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom,” he curses. You look back at him.

“Just pull out, Matthew, please.”

In your impatience you forgot to call him “oppa”. For a second you’re worried but he is too distracted by you wanting him to fuck you raw he doesn’t even notice the missing honorific.

Without any more hesitation, he finally sinks into you, his thick head stretching you out just the way you hoped it would. Your fingers grab the bedsheets, eyes falling shut as you get used to the way he feels, inch by inch. And, shit, does he feel good.

Matthew is scared he’ll come right away when he bottoms out. His cock has never felt more comfortable inside anyone before. Almost as if he was made to fuck you and only you. Thankfully, he doesn’t immediately shoot his load and instead begins to move. And really, he tried to start slow and steady, he really did. But he’s just a horny dude, in the end. His thrusts are rapid and hard and you feel like you’re high. Your thoughts are empty, there is only him and the way he fucks you like an animal. All you feel is your rising orgasm, your pussy squeezing him over and over, your moans getting louder and louder. Matthew isn’t quiet either - both of you seem like you’re harmonising as he fucks you from behind with gluttal moans escaping him every few seconds. His eyes are rolled back and his hands are around your waist, holding you so hard you’re sure there will be marks later on. You are more than ready to welcome them.

“You- You take oppa’s cock so fucking well, fuck,” Matthew is so close to finishing, you can feel it.

“Oppa fucks me so good! Don’t stop!” You push your hips against him and he gifts you another one of his melodic moans that have you gushing over his cock. He curses under his breath.

“Yeah, I can feel how much you like oppa fucking you, such a naughty girl, aren’t you?” His nails dig into your skin and you cry out, his dirty words doing exactly what they are supposed to: bring you close to the edge.

“Ngh- Oppa! Gonna c-cum!” Your mouth hangs open, drool landing on Jiwoong’s parent’s bed. Matthew’s head is spinning and he does his best to keep fucking you exactly like this. He wants you to cum before he does, wants you to cum on his cock, wants to feel you squeeze and clench around him. Wants your release to be the finishing touches for his.

And when he leans slightly forward, his arm creeping around you to press his thumb to your clit, you can feel the knot tighten and finally explode.

You’re cumming hard around his cock, vibrating around him with nothing but utter pleasure. You keep calling for him, tell him to keep going, to fuck you through your orgasm and he manages to pull out of you just when you deem yourself satisfied. Quickly, he jerks himself off, ready to finish on your ass, when suddenly you are right there, your mouth around his tip, catching his spurts of cum that shoot out the second he feels your lips around him.

“O-oh, f-fuck! Yeah, t-take all of oppas cum! Fuuuuck!” He pushes you further down his cock, nose in his neatly trimmed pubic hair, more and more strings of his cum gushing down your throat. You swallow every last bit, even lick him clean when he pulls you back, his eyes meeting yours.

“That was insane,” he says, helping you sit up fully. You grin and pull him down into a kiss he is more than happy to return.

With your clothes back where they belong, the two of you walk out of Jiwoong’s parents room only to run into… Jiwoong. A mad Jiwoong. Who has a girl with him. A girl who looks more spooked than she should considering she came up here with Jiwoong for probably the same reason as you and Matthew did.

“Oh, hey!” You chirp and Jiwoong looks from you to Matthew and back.

“”Oh, hey”? Are you fucking with me?”

“Pretty sure I was just fucking with him, oppa,” you counter, thumb pointing over your shoulder and at Matthew who awkwardly lifts his hand in a wave. Jiwoong groans.

“Would you give us a second?” He says to the girl and the girl rolls her eyes but finally nods, making her way down the hallway and back downstairs, where Taio Cruz’s Break You Heart is most definitely making the people lose their shit on the dancefloor.

“Yo, hyung, sorry, I know this is your parents room and all, but-,”

Jiwoong raises his hand and Matthew stops speaking.

“Frankly, I don’t give a fuck, thank you very much. I am more interested in what the fuck this is.”

He points between you and Matthew and the two of you share a look.

“What- what do you mean?” You ask, continuing to play innocent.

Jiwoong blinks.

“Are you- are you for real?”

With being so focused on not understanding what the fuck Jiwoong is on about, you fail to see Matthew using his hands to gesture to Jiwoong to stop talking!

“Jiwoong oppa, what is your problem?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“My- what my problem is? Jesus, Y/N, just last summer you turned Matty down and instead went to fuck me and now this?”

“What are you talking about, what Matty, wha-,”

Matty. Matt…y… Matt….hew. Oh.

You remember. Remember the friend that had hit on you, the small unremarkable guy that you couldn’t even remember the name of when you tried. You hadn’t been mean to him, just politely said no and while he did take it as an answer, he still tried to make conversation. Matty.

Slowly, you turn to Matthew, your mouth hanging slightly open. He is red as a beet and one of his hands is rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“You- you are Matty?” You ask. After another beat of silence (not really silence considering there was still a party going on) he nods.

“Yes, that would be me.”

You are dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. In shock. Your arm flies to Jiwoong’s shoulder to hold yourself steady.

“But you are- you are so-,”

“You told me you saw the gym pics, didn’t you?”

Oh yeah, you did.

“You know I am not younger than you?”

“Younger than him, wha-,” Jiwoong chimes in, but neither you nor Matthew pay him any mind.

“Yup.” He pops the “p” at the end and you feel like you’re about to faint.

“So… everyone knows…. you know?”

“Yup,” he repeats.

They are playing fucking Tokio Hotel downstairs now.

“Right. Right, sure. That- uh, my bad.” You stand up straight again, letting your hands run over your dress.

“Noona-,” Matthew starts, but you hold up your hand.

“Let’s not. I need to let this sink in.”

You walk down the stairs and of course Taerae is leaning against the frame of the big arch, grinning from ear to ear. There is no way of knowing how he even fucking knows what just happened, but he does. When you finally get your hands on your first drink of the night, you are sure the bet was all part of the plan you were so kindly left out of.

Later, when you spot Matthew with Hanbin and Gyuvin and your eyes meet, you tip your cup at him. Well played.

“If it makes you feel better, he probably would have had you call him oppa during sex anyways,” Ricky says from next to you and you close your eyes.

This is going to be a long summer.

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hotnbloodied · 1 month ago

Note

Can we get a female reader yan x childhood best friend darling that they stalk and finally work up the nerve to kidnap and lock in their basement? No smut needed.

-🐻

Childhood!Friend X Fem!Yan!Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion. I do not support or encourage these destructive behaviors in real life.

CW: not proof read, you/yours used, female reader, yandere behaviors, delusional thoughts, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, stalking.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

The sounds of clattering plates and conversations from people in the lunchroom does nothing to deter your attention away from your darling, your one and only. Did they know? How you fell in love with them at first sight? All the way back to the first day of kindergarten, you watched your darling grow with you and took care of any pest that would be a thorn in the bright future you and your darling had together. You, currently, knew you were staring but you can’t help but sigh dreamily as you looked at them, they are your everything after all. I love you so much darling. You wonder if they could hear your dreamy sighs directed towards them. (They don’t notice, they never do. An underlying frustration bubbles in your gut, you want to take them right now. Take them away so no more unworthy eyes will ever even attempt to soil your precious treasure. Pest, bugs, worms, the lot of them!) But it’s okay! Just like they don’t notice the hearts in your eyes, they don’t notice all the tracking devices you put on their belongings, how else would you know where they are so you could protect them! You scoot a little closer to your darling, basically sitting on their lap at this point and glare at the person talking to them, a routine you’ve done since the both of you were young. So much so that the classmates that grew up around you both knew to keep in their lane. The way you liked it. You and your darling were a package deal after all, if only your darling would start acting like it.

After classes were done for the day you waited patiently for your darling to pack up their belongings since the two of you lived together ever since graduating from high school and you offered them a chance to live with you. (Not that your darling ever really had a choice but you were willing to give them that illusion of choice). But before your darling fully packed up, they told you that you’d have to go home alone today. Your mind goes blank and your heart races, “W-what did you say?” “Oh! I just got invited out to drinks with some friends and I didn’t think you’d be interested since all you ever suggest we do is go back home and just spend the day in. I’ll text you throughout though!” How dare someone invite your darling out! Your precious darling that doesn’t know any better about the dirty minds of the people who invited them out. No, no, you can’t have your darling doing things without you, they NEED you just like you NEED them. You bite your nails, maybe the plan needs to be put in motion sooner than you thought. A sudden calm washes over your features as you respond, “for sure! I’ll talk to you later!”

Night has long since fallen, and still no text from your darling yet. It’s okay. You’re right outside the restaurant they are at anyway. You walk inside and tell the hostess that you’re here to pick someone up. After a quick scan you see your darling in the corner of the restaurant with the group of scum that tempted your sweet innocent darling away from you. You almost lost it when you got closer and saw how handsy someone was being with your darling, until, even in their buzzed state, your darling recognized you. “Ohh what are you doing herre?” Your darling slightly slurs their words. “I’m here to pick you up of course,” your face softens, a smile only your darling can make appear on your face shows. “Oh! Really? Okayyy.” God, your darling is adorable. You help them pack up their belongings and pay for their part of the meal before helping them out of the restaurant.

Your darling slumps into the passenger seat as you help them with the seatbelt before going to the driver’s side and getting ready to drive the both of you home. The drive home was steady, the radio murmurs on a low volume coupled with the heavy steady breathing of your darling with the occasional grunts. Parking your car, you led you and your darling inside your house. Your darling, too drunk to notice that it wasn’t the apartment. You guided them gently and slowly through to where the basement door was before leading them downstairs to a fully furnished basement. It’s what you spent all day doing after all, making sure that everything that was your darlings’ was here in this room before anything else was prepared in the new home. Your darling plops into their bed, a content sigh escapes their lips before clearly drifting off to sleep again. You walked over and brushed a loc of hair out of their face before kissing them on the cheek. “Things will be different when you wake up darling, I know you’ll adjust to your new surroundings in no time…”

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perolesims · 7 days ago

Text

"My Bumblebee...

At this very moment, it’s almost 7 a.m. You’re still sleeping, and it’s raining heavily outside. It feels like the perfect match for what I’m feeling inside. I’m a coward, that’s what it is. But I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to you again, not for a second time in this life.

The days by your side have been incredible, Penelope—so, so, so incredible that they make me question if I’m really doing the right thing. I wanted to take you with me. You, me, Amelia, and Leo traveling the world, exploring everything together. But I understand your decision. I understand all the reasons why we have to part ways again. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

So, here’s the thing... I wish for you to chase your dreams too. Don’t skip meals, take care of our girl Joy while I’m away, look after Leo, but most importantly, I wish for you to live. Live your life in the most beautiful way you can. Know that I’ll be somewhere out there, cheering and rooting for you every step of the way.

Oh, you asked me where the nickname "Bumblebee" came from, right? I’ll finally reveal the mystery. It’s cheesy—are you ready? You’re as sweet as honey, but when you’re angry, your sting can really hurt. Haha! Did you love it?

I found this typewriter abandoned in the corner, can you believe it? I thought it would be romantic and that you’d like it.

Finally, and most importantly, I made this necklace as one last wish. They say the thread that ties it believes that the one who made it belongs to them. So I ask you to believe this, Penelope: believe that I belong to you, because I am completely yours.

With love and so much pain,

A. Herr."

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#the sims 4 #perole nsb inverted #perole story's #ts4 simblr #simblr #sims 4 simblr #my sims #the sims 4 screenshots #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #família herr #ts4 #ts4 community #ts4 sims #ts4 screenshots #ts4 stories #ts4 story

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4ragon · 11 months ago

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maybe a klapollo fluffy thing in which Klavier is afraid of meeting Mikeko bc he's heard that cat is a MENACE to anyone but Apollo and Mikeko just... Instantly likes him and bonds with him and that makes Apollo fall in love with Klavier even more (klav is part disney princess don't @ me)

“Alright, and you’re wearing long sleeves, right? I don’t want him scratching up your arms or anything.”

“Ja, for the last time, I am wearing a jacket.”

“And long pants, right? You’re wearing jeans?”

“Nein I thought I’d try cutoffs today, they go so well with my yes I’m wearing jeans.”

“Okay, and if he tries to make a break for it, just, do not let him through the door under any circumstances, alright—”

“Herr Forehead, please, I’m already nervous enough as it is,” Klavier shot back, knuckles white around the phone. “Just…I’ll call you back if anything happens, alright?”

“Right. Okay. Good. Great. Thanks, Klav.” There was a loud bang, and some shouting in the background, and Apollo cursed. “Stupid—whatever! I’ll be there in like an hour. Or two hours. Some amount of hours.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Klavier said. The elevator dinged, and he was on Apollo’s floor. “I’ll make sure Herr Kätzchen doesn’t starve while you’re in transit.”

“Thanks. Alright, bye.”

“Tschüss.” And with that, Apollo was gone.

Leaving Klavier standing outside Apollo’s flimsy apartment door.

Klavier took a breath. Alright. It was just one cat. He could do this, right? He was already supposed to be heading to Apollo’s place today; now he was just flying solo. Not the end of the world.

Klavier fiddled with the new key on his keyring for a second, before finally slipping it into the lock. He unlocked the door slowly, and then, in one fluid motion, he pulled the door open a crack and slipped inside.

Immediately, the cat that was trying to squeeze out into the hallway sprinted away.

“Ach! Sorry, Herr Kätzchen,” Klavier said, quickly locking the door behind him. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

No cat. Klavier glanced around. Well, no disaster so far. “Herr Kätzchen?” he tried, not expecting much. And then, with a shrug, he turned toward the kitchen.

Apollo had warned him this would happen. Mikeko was a bit shy, after all. Or, well, maybe the words had been ‘a complete bastard’ but Klavier decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. No scratching and hissing so far, so that was probably a win.

Klavier strode over to Apollo’s tiny kitchenette. Now, it wasn’t as if the place was very big, there weren’t many places the cat food could be hiding. It took a moment, but finally, Klavier found it on a bottom shelf. He swiped up the bag, turning.

There was a pair of eyes staring at him from part way out from under the couch.

Klavier froze. The cat froze. They stared at each other.

Admittedly, Klavier was a dog person, and had been for a long time. It wasn’t that he didn’t like cats, he just grew up around dogs. He knew dogs. He knew what noises and gestures a dog would make before snapping at his hands. Cats, however, were a mystery.

Said mystery just continued to stare at him. “H-Hallo, Kätzchen,” Klavier greeted, striding over toward the empty food bowl as he shook the bag of food. “Unfortunately, your normal chef is stuck in traffic on the other side of town. Hopefully I’ll do just as good of a job, ja?”

The cat crept closer as Klavier began to fill the bowl, before scurrying over as Klavier straightened up.

“There we go. Hopefully that’s enough.”

The cat ate quickly as Klavier returned the bag to its shelf. Then he sighed, cracking his back and making his way over toward the ratty couch in the middle of the room.

They were supposed to have a date night tonight, but Klavier had a feeling they would just order takeout when Apollo finally got there. Not the worst night he could’ve imagined.

A small mewl at his feet, and Klavier jumped, head snapping down. The cat was looking up at him with big eyes. Klavier froze. Was that good? Bad? Threatening? Friendly. “Kätzchen,” he greeted cautiously.

The cat mewled again.

Klavier glanced around. Was it trying to tell him something? Did he want Klavier to give him more food? Maybe he should let the cat smell his hand, that was what you did for dogs, right? “Do you need something, mein freund?” he asked, carefully holding out his hand.

The cat paused, sniffing Klavier’s hand. And then the cat lunged forward, rubbing its entire face against Klavier’s hand and making a low, rumbling sound.

Klavier froze.

///

“Okay, I’m home!” The door slammed shut behind Apollo as he sighed, hair drooping. “Can’t believe I had to pay for an uber in this mess. I swear, when I fix my bike chain—” And then he froze.

Klavier looked up at him, a look of wonder and panic on his face. Mikeko sat directly on Klavier’s chest, curled up and purring. “Herr Forehead is this good or bad?” he asked weakly.

“How did—wh—” Apollo gaped, mouth opening and closing. “...you little bastard, why the hell do you never want to cuddle me like that?!”

“...the cat or me?”

“Shut it.”

#ace attorney #klavier gavin #apollo justice #klapollo

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muiitoloko · 5 months ago

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I actually feel nauseous at the ending of the last chapter of difficult woman HE NEEDS TO BELIEVE HERRR

Title: A Cage of Emotions

Summary: Karl's strict measures to keep his wife close lead to a clash of wills and a moment of unexpected intimacy.

Pairing: Karl Hoffmeister × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: After a whole lot of effort, sweat, and probably more tears than I'd like to admit, I finally managed to write this! 😅 I’ll confess it’s not my finest work, but I’m satisfied enough to send it out into the world. Enjoy!

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh and Eighth part here.

Also read on Ao3

The next morning, Karl woke up and turned to look at you, sleeping peacefully beside him with Mouse nestled near your head. The sight stirred a mix of emotions within him—sadness, anger, and a sense of betrayal. You had tried to leave him without a second thought, and the wound was still fresh.

Karl slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake you. He locked the door behind him as he left the room, determined to prevent any further attempts at escape. He then made his way to the guest room where he had been sleeping previously. The cool water of the shower helped to clear his head, and he took his time, letting the steady stream calm his turbulent thoughts.

After dressing in a crisp white shirt, a dark waistcoat, and trousers, Karl descended to the dining room. Elisabeth was already seated at the table, her expression one of nervous anticipation. Hans stood near the table, his posture rigid and attentive.

Karl glanced at Elisabeth briefly before addressing Hans. "Hans, bring [Your Name] her breakfast in the bedroom. From now on, all her meals will be taken there. Also, move my belongings to that room."

Hans furrowed his brow in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. He hadn’t believed the boss was serious when he mentioned confining Madame the day before. Hans had assumed it was just something said in the heat of the moment. But now, it appeared the boss was actually serious. “Will Madame really be confined to her room, Herr Hoffmeister?” he asked hesitantly.

Karl's face hardened as he met Hans's gaze. "Yes. She has everything she needs there. There is no reason for her to leave."

Hans's expression turned incredulous. "But sir, that's cruel."

Karl's eyes flashed with anger and disbelief. "Cruel?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "She tried to leave me. She lied and deceived me. She deserves to be punished."

Before Hans could respond, Johann entered the dining room, his steps unsteady and his face pale from the effects of last night's indulgence. He groaned, rubbing his temples as he took in the tense atmosphere. "Why does everyone look so tense?" he asked, his voice rough. "What did I miss last night?"

Elisabeth's eyes flicked to Karl, a hint of satisfaction in her gaze. "There was a bit of excitement after you retired, Johann," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "But it's being handled."

Johann raised an eyebrow, looking between Karl and Hans with curiosity. "Handled? What happened?"

Karl's jaw tightened as he spoke. "My wife attempted to leave me. She will be confined to her room until further notice."

Johann's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and concern crossing his features. "She tried to leave? Why on earth would she do that?"

Karl's gaze was cold and unyielding. "Because she is unhappy, Johann. But that does not give her the right to deceive and betray me. She will stay in her room until she learns her place."

Johann opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, closing it again. He knew better than to argue with Karl when he was in this state. Instead, he took his seat at the table, his mind racing with the implications of what he had just heard.

Elisabeth, sensing the opportunity to solidify her position, leaned forward slightly, her voice soft and sympathetic. "Karl, if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know. I want to support you in any way I can."

Karl nodded, his expression softening slightly as he looked at her. "Thank you, Elisabeth. Your loyalty means a great deal to me."

Hans, still standing nearby, exchanged a worried glance with Johann. The tension in the room was palpable, and it was clear that the situation was far from resolved. The household had been plunged into a state of uncertainty, and the path ahead was fraught with challenges for everyone involved.

Meanwhile, you slowly woke up from your sleep, memories of last night coming back to you in a disorienting rush. Sitting up, you looked around the room, noticing that Karl was no longer there. Mouse, on the other hand, continued to sleep peacefully, curled up on the bed. You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and frustration as you realized Karl had likely locked the door behind him.

You got out of bed, your thoughts a whirlwind of anger and regret. You had been so close to freedom, only to have it snatched away at the last moment. The memory of Karl's grip on you, his possessive words, and his unyielding anger made your skin crawl. You couldn't shake the image of his face, twisted with a mix of rage and hurt, as he dragged you back to the estate.

As you took a shower, the hot water cascading over your body, you mentally scolded yourself. You should have ridden faster. You should have planned better. The thought of Elisabeth, her betrayal still fresh in your mind, made your blood boil. How could she accuse Liselotte so unjustly? You should never have trusted her.

Karl's blind trust in Elisabeth but not you was like a knife to the heart. A rational part of your mind argued that Karl had no reason to trust you, especially after you lied to him. But you didn't want to be rational at that moment. You were hurt, angry, and trapped in a situation that seemed increasingly hopeless.

Stepping out of the shower, you dried off and dressed in simple, comfortable clothes. You looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to muster some semblance of strength. The sight of your own reflection, the dark circles under your eyes, and the determined set of your jaw, reminded you that you were not defeated. Not yet.

You heard the bedroom door opening before Anna announced her presence. "Madame, I am bringing you breakfast," she said softly, entering with a tray.

You turned from the dressing table, your eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Where is Liselotte?" you asked, your voice sharp.

Anna hesitated, setting the tray down on a small table by the window. "Liselotte is fine, madame," she replied carefully. "She will now help in the kitchen and will no longer serve you directly. Herr Hoffmeister has assigned that task to me."

You frowned, confusion and irritation mixing in your expression. "Why?" you demanded. "Why has Karl made this decision?"

Anna's hesitation was palpable. She avoided your gaze as she straightened the napkin on the tray. "Herr Hoffmeister believes it is best for Liselotte to have different duties," she said finally. "He does not want her near you, fearing that you might plan another escape attempt together."

You felt a surge of anger. "It wasn't Liselotte who helped me escape," you repeated, your voice trembling with frustration. "It was Elisabeth!"

Anna nodded, her expression sympathetic but resigned. "Even if that is true, madame, the boss believes otherwise."

You clenched your fists, trying to contain your growing rage. "This is absurd," you muttered. "I will get ready and speak to Karl. He needs to hear the truth."

Anna's face grew tense, her eyes filled with concern. "Madame, you cannot leave this room," she said softly. "Herr Hoffmeister has forbidden it."

Your eyes widened in shock, the reality of your situation crashing down on you. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "He's keeping me locked in here?"

Anna nodded sadly. "Yes, madame. Herr Hoffmeister is serious about this. He has ordered that you are to remain in your room until further notice."

The words echoed in your mind, a cold chill settling in your chest. You were trapped, truly trapped, and the man who claimed to love you was the one holding the keys to your prison.

"This can't be happening," you whispered, your voice filled with disbelief and despair. "I can't stay here like this."

Anna stepped closer, her expression gentle but firm. "I'm sorry, madame. I will do my best to make you comfortable. But for now, you must abide by Herr Hoffmeister's orders."

You turned away, unable to look at Anna any longer. The weight of your confinement settled heavily on your shoulders, a mix of fear, anger, and hopelessness swirling within you. The walls of the room seemed to close in, the air thick with the suffocating reality of your captivity.

As Anna quietly left the room, you sank down onto the bed, hugging Mouse tightly. The small comfort of his presence did little to ease the storm of emotions raging within you. You were a prisoner in your own home, bound by the whims of a man who claimed to love you but whose actions spoke of possession and control.

Karl confined himself to his office after breakfast, the heavy oak door closing behind him with a resounding thud. He poured himself a generous measure of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the soft morning light that filtered through the room's tall windows. He stared into the glass, his mind replaying the events of the previous night. The hope you had given him, the tentative promise of a new beginning, only to make a fool of him by attempting to run away—it hurt him deeply. Karl didn't accept betrayal. Ever.

He took a long sip of the whiskey, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the pain and anger churning inside him. How could you have lied to him so convincingly? He had believed you, dared to hope that things might change, and now he felt like a fool.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts. "What is it?" Karl responded harshly, his voice edged with frustration.

The door opened slowly, and Elisabeth entered, her expression tentative. Karl's gaze softened slightly at the sight of her. "What do you want, Elisabeth?" he asked, his tone less severe.

Elisabeth closed the door behind her and stepped into the room, her eyes filled with concern. "I just wanted to see how you were," she replied, her voice gentle.

Karl let out a bitter laugh, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "I'm fine," he said tersely, but his eyes betrayed the lie.

Elisabeth moved closer, her expression sympathetic. "No, you're not," she said softly. "I know you're lying, Karl. Last night was hard on you. I can see it in your eyes."

Karl's grip on the glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. "What do you want me to say, Elisabeth?" he snapped. "That I'm hurt? That I'm angry? That the woman I thought I could finally reach out to tried to leave me in the dead of night?"

Elisabeth's eyes flickered with a mix of guilt and determination. "Maybe it's time to consider letting her go, Karl," she said carefully. "She's not good for you. She's making you miserable. You deserve someone who truly cares for you."

Karl's anger flared at her words, and he slammed the glass down hard on the table, the sound echoing through the room. "Enough!" he barked, his voice a dangerous growl. "I will not hear this from you. I don't need your advice on what to do with my wife."

Elisabeth flinched, but she held her ground. "Karl, please," she pleaded, her voice shaking slightly. "I only want what's best for you. You deserve to be happy."

Karl's eyes blazed with fury as he stood up, towering over Elisabeth. "And you think getting rid of my wife will make me happy?" he spat. "You think giving up on her is the answer? No, Elisabeth. I will not let her go. She is my wife, and she will remain my wife. Do you understand?"

Elisabeth's eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Karl. I understand."

Karl turned away from her, his hands trembling with anger and hurt. "Leave me," he commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

Elisabeth hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on him with a mix of sorrow and frustration. But she obeyed, quietly leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Karl stood alone in his office, the silence heavy and oppressive. He picked up the glass of whiskey again, downing the rest of the liquid in one gulp. The burn did nothing to quell the storm raging within him. He had to find a way to make you understand, to make you see that you were his, and there was no escaping that truth. No matter the cost.

Karl didn't know how long he sat in his office drinking, seething with silent anger and sadness. The hours passed slowly, the light in the room shifting as the day wore on. Hans knocked on the door around lunchtime, offering to bring him something to eat, but Karl sent him away with a sharp dismissal. The whiskey provided a bitter solace, its warmth doing little to dull the ache inside him.

Karl sat brooding, the silence of his office punctuated only by the ticking of the clock and the occasional clink of glass against wood. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, swirling with the events of the previous night and the sense of betrayal that gnawed at him. He couldn't believe how you had deceived him, how you had shattered the fragile hope he had held onto.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Karl straightened, the interruption pulling him out of his thoughts. "Come in," he barked, his voice rough.

The door opened, and Anna stepped inside, her expression a mix of concern and determination. Karl's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "What is it, Anna?" he demanded, his patience thin.

Anna took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his with a steady resolve. "Herr Hoffmeister, madame has refused to eat both breakfast and lunch," she stated, her tone firm yet respectful.

Karl felt a surge of anger rise within him, and he stood up abruptly, staggering slightly from the effects of the whiskey. "What is she planning now?" he muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "Starve herself to get rid of me? Does she hate me that much?"

Your words from the previous night echoed in his mind, the disdain and contempt cutting deep. "Fat old man," you had called him. The memory stung, fueling his anger further.

Anna stepped in front of him, her expression pleading. "Herr Hoffmeister, she's very sad that she can't leave the bedroom," she said gently. "Please, consider her feelings."

Karl ignored her, pushing past Anna as he stormed towards the door. "I don't care," he growled. "She will eat, whether she wants to or not."

Anna followed him, her voice filled with concern. "Herr Hoffmeister, this isn't the way to handle things. Forcing her won't help."

But Karl barely heard her, his mind consumed with the determination to confront you. He reached the bedroom door, unlocking it with a swift motion and pushing it open, ready to unleash his fury.

But the sight that met his eyes stopped him in his tracks. You were sitting by the window, hugging your knees close to your chest, tears streaming down your face. You looked broken, defeated.

For a moment, Karl's anger faltered, replaced by a pang of sorrow and guilt. He took a hesitant step forward, his voice softening. "[Your Name]," he said quietly, his tone a mix of frustration and something gentler. "You need to eat."

You looked up, your tear-streaked face filled with pain and defiance. "I don't want to eat," you replied, your voice trembling. "What's the point? I'm a prisoner here."

Karl's heart clenched at your words, the raw emotion in your voice cutting through his anger. He moved closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and desperation. "You are not a prisoner," he insisted, though the words felt hollow even to him. "You are my wife. I want to take care of you."

You shook your head, wiping the tears from your face and straightening your posture, determined not to let Karl see your vulnerability. "You don't understand," you whispered. "I feel trapped. Suffocated."

Karl reached out, trembling as he gently touched your shoulder. But you flinched, standing up and moving away from him. The sight of your retreating form, the rejection, ignited a fresh wave of anger within him.

"I said you need to eat," he ordered, his voice sharp.

"I won't," you replied, your tone taking on a challenging edge. "Not unless you let me out of this bedroom." your sadness dissipated in the heat of the confrontation.

Karl's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "You have no right to demand anything," he snapped. "You will eat, and you will stay in this room."

You shook your head, your resolve unwavering. "I won't eat unless I can leave this room and have Liselotte serve me again."

Karl's face twisted with fury. "That's not going to happen," he growled. "You will eat, or there will be consequences."

"I don't care," you shot back, your voice filled with steely determination. "If you don't let me out, I won't eat. Not ever."

Karl's fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white. He was torn between his anger and a deep, unsettling worry. "You're a difficult woman," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

"And you're a cruel man," you replied, your eyes meeting his with defiance. "But I won't be broken by you."

The tension between you was palpable, a silent battle of wills that neither of you was willing to lose. Karl's anger simmered beneath the surface, but a flicker of something else—an unwilling admiration for your unyielding spirit—crept into his mind.

Karl's fists unclenched slowly as he took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours. The tension in the room was palpable, but there was a glimmer of reluctant understanding in his gaze. He stepped closer, his voice low and measured.

"Fine," he said finally, the words heavy with reluctance. "You can leave this bedroom and Liselotte can serve you again. But you must swear to me that you will not try to escape anymore."

You looked at him, your eyes wide with surprise and a hint of suspicion. "And if I don't?" you asked cautiously.

Karl's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "If you try to escape again," he said, his voice low and threatening, "I will fire Liselotte. And this time, there will be no reprieve."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you weighed his words. The prospect of freedom, even within the confines of the estate, was too tempting to resist. You nodded slowly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "I swear," you said softly. "I won't try to escape."

Karl's expression softened slightly, though the intensity in his eyes remained. "Good," he murmured, stepping closer until he was mere inches from you. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you. You're mine, and you always will be."

You were irritated by Karl's possessive words. You were not a possession, an object that people could possess. "I'm not yours, Karl," you said, your voice trembling with frustration and anger. "I am a person with my own thoughts, feelings, and desires. You can't just claim me like some object."

But Karl didn't even seem to hear you. His eyes were fixed on your lips, a dark intensity simmering in his gaze that you didn't notice while you continued to lecture him. The anger and defiance in your voice only seemed to fuel his desire, the raw, untamed emotions stirring something primal within him.

"Karl, you need to understand," you continued, unaware of the shift in his demeanor. "You can't control me, no matter how much you try. I will never be truly yours."

Karl's breathing grew heavier, his gaze unwavering as he stepped closer, the space between you growing smaller with each passing moment. His eyes roved over your face, lingering on your lips, and for a moment, the world around him faded away.

Without warning, Karl closed the remaining distance between you, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. The shock of his sudden action left you breathless, your anger momentarily forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The intensity of his kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you, a mix of anger, confusion, and an unexpected surge of desire. You tried to push him away, but his grip only tightened, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling you flush against his body. The raw passion in his touch was undeniable, and despite your anger, you couldn't help but respond, your body betraying you as you kissed him back.

Karl's lips moved with a hunger, a desperate need that mirrored the turmoil within him. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, demanding entry, and you found yourself parting your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of whiskey and something uniquely his. The sensations overwhelmed you, the feel of his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, igniting a fire that you had tried so hard to suppress.

Suddenly, the two of you were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Startled, Karl broke away from the kiss, turning to see Anna standing in the doorway, her face struggling to maintain a neutral expression as a suppressed smile played on her lips.

You blushed furiously, stepping back from Karl and wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "How dare you kiss me without my permission?!" you exclaimed, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "You're indecent!"

Karl smiled slightly, an infuriatingly confident expression on his face. "You kissed me back," he stated calmly, his eyes locked onto yours with a smug glint.

"That's a lie!" you shot back, your cheeks burning. You glanced at Anna, who quickly averted her gaze, trying to maintain her composure.

Mouse, sensing the tension, barked sharply from the bed. You moved to pick him up, cradling the small puppy in your arms as if seeking comfort. Mouse's presence provided a small measure of solace, his soft fur soothing against your skin.

Karl's smile widened as he watched you with an air of satisfaction. "You can deny it all you want," he said softly, his voice tinged with amusement. "But we both know the truth."

You glared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You're impossible," you muttered, turning your attention to Mouse, who licked your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

Anna, sensing the need to diffuse the tension, stepped forward. "Herr Hoffmeister," she said gently, "perhaps it's best to give Madame some space for now."

Karl glanced at Anna, his expression briefly flickering with annoyance before he nodded. "Very well," he said, his voice still carrying an undertone of authority. He turned back to you, his gaze softening slightly. "Remember what I said. You stay in the house, and Liselotte can continue serving you."

You didn't respond, your focus remaining on Mouse. The room fell into an awkward silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Karl sighed softly, running a hand through his hair before turning to leave.

As he walked past Anna, he paused, his voice low but firm. "Make sure she eats," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Anna nodded, her expression serious. "Of course, Herr Hoffmeister."

With one last glance at you, Karl exited the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The tension in the room eased slightly, but the lingering effects of the encounter remained. You sank down onto the bed, holding Mouse close as you tried to steady your racing thoughts.

Anna moved quietly to the tray, arranging the food with a gentle touch. "Madame," she said softly, her voice filled with compassion, "please, you must eat something."

You looked up at her, your eyes filled with a mix of frustration and resignation. "I don't know what to do, Anna," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I feel so trapped."

Anna's eyes softened with sympathy as she sat beside you on the bed. "I know, madame," she said gently. "But you must stay strong. Take it one day at a time. And remember, you are not alone."

You nodded, grateful for her kindness. The road ahead seemed daunting, filled with uncertainty and challenges. But for now, you took comfort in the small act of defiance, knowing that you still had your spirit, your loyalty to Liselotte, and the love of a small, loyal puppy.

Anna then got up, ordering you to eat while she would call Liselotte to help you prepare for dinner later. You were excited at the prospect and placed Mouse on the floor, who ran to play with his ball that was in the corner of the bedroom while you picked up your plate to eat your lunch. The warm food provided a small comfort, and you realized how hungry you had been after the emotional turmoil of the past day.

As you ate, Anna left the room quietly, her soft footsteps barely audible. You savored each bite, the simple act of eating bringing a sense of normalcy back to your life. The thought of seeing Liselotte again lifted your spirits, and you found yourself looking forward to the evening despite the lingering tension with Karl.

After finishing your meal, you set the plate aside and watched Mouse chase his ball around the room, his playful antics bringing a smile to your face. There was a knock on the door, and you called out, "Come in." Your heart lifted when you saw Liselotte enter, her familiar presence a balm to your troubled mind. You stood up, moving to embrace her, but she remained at the door, bowing slightly with a professional demeanor.

"Liselotte," you began, your voice filled with emotion, "I'm so glad to see you."

Liselotte's expression was neutral, her eyes not meeting yours. "Madame," she replied formally, "how may I assist you today?"

You felt your enthusiasm deflate, understanding the reason for her coldness. She had every right to be upset, having been wrongly accused and almost losing her job. The guilt weighed heavily on you, but you were determined not to lose her friendship.

"Liselotte, I'm truly sorry for what happened," you said earnestly, stepping closer. "I never meant for you to get involved or to put your job at risk. You mean a great deal to me."

Liselotte remained silent, her posture rigid. "I understand, madame," she said after a moment, her tone clipped. "But it was a difficult situation. I have worked here for many years, and my loyalty has always been to the household."

"I know," you replied, your voice softening. "And your loyalty is something I value deeply. Please, forgive me. I never wanted to cause you any harm."

Liselotte's eyes finally met yours, and you saw a flicker of emotion there—hurt, anger, and perhaps a trace of understanding. "It was a close call," she admitted, her voice quieter. "I have never been accused of something like that before."

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I promise it won't happen again. You are more than just a servant to me, Liselotte. You are my friend."

There was a long silence as Liselotte studied you, her expression softening just a little. "I hope you mean that, madame," she said finally. "Because friendship is built on trust and honesty, and that has to go both ways."

"I do mean it," you assured her, taking her hand in yours. "I need your friendship now more than ever."

Liselotte nodded slowly, a small smile appearing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, madame. Your friendship means a lot to me," she said softly.

You returned her smile, feeling a genuine warmth towards her. "I'm glad we can trust each other, Liselotte. We need to stick together in this house."

Liselotte's eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and gratitude. "I agree, madame. It's been difficult, but knowing we have each other makes it more bearable."

Her words reassured you, and you felt a renewed sense of determination. "We will get through this, Liselotte. Together."

Liselotte hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Madame, was it really Elisabeth who helped you escape?"

The mention of Elisabeth's name made your blood boil, and your expression hardened. "Yes, it was Elisabeth," you replied, your voice laced with anger. "She helped me escape and had the audacity to lie and accuse you unfairly."

Liselotte's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. "How could she do such a thing?" she said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Because she's manipulative and selfish," you replied bitterly. "But she made a mistake by lying about you. Now she has made an enemy of me."

Liselotte looked at you, a mix of admiration and hope in her eyes. "Thank you, madame. Your support means everything to me."

You nodded firmly, your determination strengthening as you let go of Liselotte's hands. "I will take revenge on Elisabeth," you declared, your voice resolute.

Liselotte watched you with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "How will you do that, madame?" she asked softly.

You blushed a little, feeling a rush of uncertainty. "I'm not entirely sure yet," you admitted. "But I will find a way."

Liselotte thought for a moment, then a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "If Elisabeth likes Herr Hoffmeister so much, why don't you use his devotion to you to upset her?" she suggested.

The memory of Karl's kiss flashed through your mind, making you blush even more. You shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. "It's a good suggestion," you conceded, "but I don't want to give Karl false hope. It would only complicate things further."

Liselotte nodded, understanding your hesitation. "Very well, madame," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "Then let us make you beautiful for dinner tonight. If we can't use Herr Hoffmeister directly, we can at least make Elisabeth jealous and ensure that Karl can't take his eyes off you."

You smiled at Liselotte's enthusiasm, feeling a spark of excitement at the prospect. "Alright," you agreed, standing up. "Let's do it."

Liselotte led you to the vanity, her hands deftly arranging your hair and selecting the perfect accessories to complement your features. As she worked, you felt a sense of camaraderie and support, knowing that you weren't alone in this struggle.

Liselotte’s skillful hands worked quickly as she finished arranging your hair, a delicate yet sophisticated style that framed your face beautifully. She then selected a deep burgundy dress from your wardrobe, its rich color and elegant design accentuating your figure in a way that was both understated and alluring. The fabric felt luxurious against your skin as Liselotte helped you into the dress, adjusting the fit to perfection.

When you were finally ready, Liselotte stepped back, her eyes filled with pride. “You look stunning, madame,” she said softly, a smile playing on her lips.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, surprised by the transformation. There was a certain confidence in your appearance that hadn’t been there before, a reminder that even in the midst of your confinement, you still had control over how you presented yourself. “Thank you, Liselotte,” you replied, returning her smile. “I feel ready.”

With that, Liselotte accompanied you to the dining room. As you approached, you could hear the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of voices from within. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and entered the room.

Karl, Johann, and Elisabeth were already seated at the table. Johann was engrossed in his meal, while Elisabeth picked at her food, her expression thoughtful. Karl, however, hadn’t touched his plate. As you stepped into the room, his gaze immediately locked onto you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

For a moment, there was silence as Karl took in your appearance. The flicker of admiration in his eyes was unmistakable, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you as you moved towards the table. Despite the tension between you, there was an undeniable connection, a pull that neither of you could fully ignore.

Determined to maintain some distance, you deliberately chose a seat further away from Karl, hoping to avoid any direct confrontation. However, the moment you sat down, Karl's expression darkened, his earlier anger and resentment, briefly softened by the kiss, came rushing back. He gestured sharply toward the chair beside him. "Come here and sit next to me," he commanded, his voice calm yet leaving no room for disagreement.

You hesitated, your heart pounding. The last thing you wanted was to sit so close to him after the kiss. “I’d prefer to sit here,” you replied, your tone polite but firm.

Karl’s eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a dangerous edge. “That wasn’t a request,” he stated, the words carrying a weight that made the air in the room feel heavier. The lightness of the earlier conversation evaporated, replaced by a tension that gripped everyone at the table.

The room fell silent, the atmosphere charged with a palpable sense of unease. Johann paused mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air as he looked between you and Karl, sensing the shift in the dynamic. Elisabeth’s eyes darted nervously from you to Karl, her expression betraying her discomfort.

You stopped, the force of Karl’s tone catching you off guard. He had never spoken to you like this before, and it was clear that something had changed within him since your attempted escape. The authority in his voice was unsettling, a stark reminder of the power he held over you.

Slowly, you rose from your seat, your movements deliberate as you made your way to the chair beside Karl. The silence in the room was suffocating, every eye on you as you reluctantly took the seat he had indicated. The distance you had tried to maintain was now gone, and you could feel the intensity of his presence beside you, an overwhelming force that seemed to dominate the space.

Karl didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. The tension in the air was thick, the unspoken words hanging between you like a dark cloud. Finally, he leaned in slightly, his voice low but firm. “You will sit beside me from now on,” he said, his tone brooking no dissent. “Do you understand?”

You weren’t intimidated by Karl’s tone. Instead of answering him, you pushed your chair as far away from him as you could, maintaining your silence. The scrape of the chair’s legs against the wooden floor echoed loudly in the tense room, causing everyone at the table to flinch.

Karl’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at your defiance. His patience, already worn thin, snapped. Without a word, he reached down and grabbed the leg of your chair, forcefully pulling it back toward him. The sudden motion made the chair lurch violently, causing you to gasp in surprise as you were abruptly brought closer to him. The noise of the chair scraping against the floor was harsh and grating, the sound amplifying the tension that already hung heavy in the air.

"Enough of this nonsense," Karl growled, his voice low and dangerously controlled. His grip on the chair was unyielding, his eyes boring into yours with a mix of anger and something darker, more possessive. "You will sit beside me as my wife. This is not up for discussion."

His words, spoken with such finality, sent a shiver down your spine. There was no doubt in his voice, no room for negotiation. Despite the kiss earlier softening him a little, Karl was still deeply hurt and angry over your attempt to flee. The betrayal he felt was evident in his every action, and the raw emotion simmering beneath the surface was both frightening and overwhelming.

You stared back at him, your heart pounding in your chest, but you refused to let him see your fear. Your eyes met his with defiance, though the close proximity made it difficult to maintain your composure. "You can force me to sit here," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension, "but you can’t force me to accept this."

Karl’s expression darkened, a flicker of something akin to pain crossing his features before being replaced by cold resolve. "You can pretend all you want," he murmured, his tone low and edged with frustration, "but you will learn to accept your place by my side. You are my wife, and nothing will change that."

The finality in his voice was suffocating, his words a chilling reminder of the control he exerted over your life. The power dynamic between you was stark and inescapable, and the reality of your situation pressed down on you like a weight.

Elisabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting between you and Karl with a mixture of anxiety and something else—satisfaction, perhaps, at seeing you so clearly under Karl’s thumb. Johann, on the other hand, looked deeply uneasy, his brow furrowed as he watched the exchange, clearly disapproving of Karl’s behavior but unwilling to speak out against it.

Despite the oppressive atmosphere, you maintained your silence, determined not to give Karl the satisfaction of seeing you falter. You focused on the meal in front of you, forcing yourself to take small bites even though your appetite had all but vanished. The taste of the food was bland in your mouth, your mind too occupied with the implications of Karl’s words to truly register the flavors.

Karl’s presence beside you was suffocating, his proximity a constant reminder of the power he held over you. His hand, still resting on the leg of your chair, served as a physical manifestation of his control, and you could feel the tension radiating from him in waves.

As the meal continued in tense silence, you couldn’t help but reflect on the events that had led you to this moment. Your failed escape, Karl’s furious pursuit, the kiss that had left you confused and unsettled—everything had culminated in this power struggle, and it was clear that Karl had no intention of relinquishing his hold on you.

But even as you sat there, outwardly compliant, your mind was already working on your next move. Karl might have won this battle, but the war was far from over. You would bide your time, gathering your strength and waiting for the right moment to strike back. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

For now, though, you had to play the part of the obedient wife, at least outwardly. You allowed Karl to believe he had the upper hand, even as your resolve hardened. You would survive this, and you would find a way to regain your freedom, no matter what it took.

Karl, for his part, seemed to sense the undercurrent of defiance still lingering within you, and though he didn’t say anything further, his grip on the chair remained firm, a silent reminder of his control. The atmosphere in the dining room remained thick with tension, and though the meal continued, it was clear that nothing had truly been resolved.

Karl finally let go of the chair, his fingers uncurling slowly as he hesitated, his hand hovering just above your thigh. For a brief moment, he seemed torn, wanting to reach out to you, to establish some physical connection, but the memory of your earlier defiance flashed in his mind. The thought of you swatting his hand away in front of everyone stopped him cold. With a quiet sigh, he withdrew his hand, placing it back on the table. His eyes remained fixed on you as you took small, measured bites of your food, which had been placed in front of you by an employee.

The atmosphere in the room remained tense, with the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Karl watched you closely, his brow furrowing as he noted the slow, almost reluctant way you ate. After a few moments, he couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer.

"Why aren't you eating properly?" Karl's voice was low, his tone carrying a mixture of irritation and genuine concern.

You glanced at him, your expression cool and defiant. "I could ask you the same," you replied, your voice edged with subtle humor.

Karl blinked, caught off guard by your retort. His gaze flickered down to his own plate, where the food remained untouched. He hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t taken a single bite. With a quiet, self-deprecating sigh, he acknowledged the truth in your words.

"You’re right," Karl admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with a reluctant understanding. "But I still want you to eat properly." His tone held a trace of the old authority, but the anger that had fueled his earlier outburst was noticeably absent.

You shrugged slightly, still playing with the food on your plate. "I had lunch late," you explained, though there was a hint of irritation in your voice. "That's why I'm not very hungry now."

Across the table, Elisabeth’s fork paused mid-air, her knuckles tightening slightly as she overheard the exchange. Her eyes darted between you and Karl, a flicker of jealousy darkening her features as she took in the surprisingly soft tone Karl had adopted with you. She forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Karl, however, seemed oblivious to Elisabeth's reaction. His focus remained solely on you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of the vulnerability he’d glimpsed earlier. The kiss in the bedroom had softened something within him, but the sting of your attempted escape still lingered, a raw wound that refused to heal. He wanted to reach out, to mend the growing rift between you, but pride and anger held him back.

He watched as you continued to take small, disinterested bites, and his own appetite seemed to vanish entirely. "Fine," he said quietly, conceding the point. "But from now on, try to eat at the proper times."

You gave a noncommittal nod, your attention turning back to your plate, but the brief exchange had shifted something between you, lightening the tension just a little.

As the meal continued, the earlier tension slowly dissipated, though it never quite vanished. Karl remained quiet, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, while you focused on finishing your meal, your mind already planning your next move.

Elisabeth, on the other hand, couldn’t quite hide the frustration bubbling beneath her composed exterior. She picked at her food, her thoughts clouded with jealousy as she watched the subtle, almost tender way Karl interacted with you. It was a side of him she rarely saw, and the realization gnawed at her, feeding her resentment.

In the corner of the room, Johann finally cleared his throat, attempting to break the lingering tension. "So," he began awkwardly, glancing between the three of you, "perhaps we should discuss something more pleasant. The weather has been quite nice lately, hasn’t it?"

The mundane comment was met with silence, but the absurdity of it finally broke through the tension. You couldn’t help but let out a small, involuntary laugh, the sound light and almost surprised. Karl’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile playing on his face as he shook his head at Johann’s clumsy attempt at humor.

The moment passed quickly, but it left a lingering sense of normalcy, a reminder that not everything between you and Karl had to be a battle. It was a small, fleeting victory, but in the midst of everything, it felt like a step in the right direction.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #karl hoffmeister x reader #a promise

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cupidsrrott · 2 years ago

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𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡; NEYMAR JR.

𝙄𝙉 𝙒𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙃, neymar is dating an actress and it’s seen through social media posts.

author’s note; someone requested this but i cant find it in the “my activity” so i really hope they see this!!

your stories

your posts

yourusername

liked by neymarjr, badgalriri, blakelively and 2,838,901 others

yourusername i’m honoured to be wearing this vintage gucci designed dress for the 75th cannes anniversary. so thank you to all of my stylists and designers you all are angels on earth❤️

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neymarjr meu anjo (my angel)

| liked by yourusername

neymarjr what’re we having for dinner tonight?

| yourusername takeout?

| liked by neymarjr

| neymarjr sim😁(yes)

| user1 i need a relationship like theirs😭

badgalriri gorgeous babyy!!

| liked by yourusername

| yourusername i miss you gorgeous!🤍

user2 i want to be herr😩

blakelively beautiful girl💞

| liked by yourusername

netflix 😍😍😍

yourusername

liked by neymarjr, phoebedynevor, gigihadid and 1,439,274 others

yourusername this weekend ft. ney and my new mule friend

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neymar eu te amo anjo (i love you angel)

| yourusername você tem meu coração (you have my heart)

| user3 i can’t with these two❤️😭

| user4 i’m so done i need what they havee

phoebedyvenor cant wait to see you on set next week!!

| liked by yourusername

| yourusername ahhh me too!!💗

gigihadid khai misses you i better see you soon💘💘

| yourusername ugh i miss my goddaughter too😭 i promise i’ll be there in new york next month💗

fan posts

footballwags

liked by neyfan1, yourfan1, f1&football and 19,142 others

footballwags Neymar jr. and long time girlfriend, actress Y/n L/n yesterday evening in Brazil

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user5 they are soo perfect

user6 i’m obsessed with them

| liked by footballwags

user7 i need her wardrobe

yourfan2

liked by user8, footballfan1, neyfan2 and 54,382 others

yourfan2 Y/n at the PSG vs. Montpellier match on Saturday (she looks so angelic i love her so muchh🤍👼🏼)

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user8 she’s literally the prettiest

user9 this girl has it all omgg

sportswags if her and neymar break up i literally will never believe in love😭😭

| yourfan2 me too!!😭❤️

neyfan3 the way she looks at the pitch to ney🤧💗

| liked by yourfan2

his stories

his posts

neymarjr

liked by lucaspaqueta, pierregasly, antoinegriezmann and 13,835,879 others

neymarjr feliz aniversário meu anjo🎂 (happy birthday my angel)

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yourusername obrigado, eu te amo ney (thank you, i love you)

| neymarjr get ready for today anjo🤍

| martinezvini i need to see some birthday updates😭

samaracosta happy birthday to a literal icon

psg 🎂🎂🎂

lucaspaqueta feliz aniversário bêbee🎉 (happy birthday babyy)

| liked by neymarjr

neymarjr

liked by yourusername, marquinosm5, puma and 27,384,618 others

neymarjr ontem à noite na cerimônia de premiação, serei eternamente grato!!❤️❤️ y/n pediu a um vencedor do prêmio (eu) para carregá-la escada abaixo 🙄❤️ (last night at the award ceremony, i will be forever grateful!! and then y/n asked an award winner (me) to carry her down the stairs)

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yourusername my feet were hurting🙄

| neymarjr yeahhh i’m sure anjo

| yourusername i was in 5 inch heels

| gabily leave the girl alone ney her feet were hurting😭🙄

| liked by yourusername

nike 🙌🙌🙌

leomessi amo vocês!!!🙏🙏(love you guys)

user10 what a king 👑

yourfriend love you both together💛

#footballer x reader #world cup #football imagines #football one shot #neymar jr imagine #neymar jr x reader #neymar jr #instagram au #football #psg

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johnconstantinesdick · 6 months ago

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So close to writing one of those “betting on wrightworth” fics where the twist is that Klapollo are krisnix truthers

Just like. Apollo references Phoenix’s bad taste in men at some bar association event only for everyone around him to immediately get on his case for insulting Edgeworth.

Athena’s like “don’t be rude Apollo, Mr. Edgeworth could hear!!”

Apollo: why does it matter if Edgeworth hears. I’m sure he knows all about Mr. Wright’s horrible romantic decisions :\

Kay steps in and is like woah buddy Mr. Edgeworth may be a stick in the mud but Mr. Wright couldn’t do better than him!!

Apollo is like. Yeah. Because Edgeworth is a catch?? I don’t know what you’re trying to say.

Klavier butts in and asks if Kay seriously thinks Wright would date their boss?? Like huh??

Klavier and Apollo are now being treated to the most incredulous looks known to man.

Apollo (now convinced that people are trying to fuck w him): Mr. Wright would never make a good romantic choice in his life. Don’t try to pull one over on me. I was there for the divorce.

Kay: they got DIVORCED????

Sebastian: they got MARRIED??????

Klavier’s like [fake German voice] nein Herr Forehead I know for a fact it wasn’t a divorce. Because I had to dispose of the unused engagement ring.

Apollo is like finally some gossip that makes fucking sense while everyone else is like you think PHOENIX WRIGHT was fucking your BROTHER???

#ace attorney #aa #klavier gavin #apollo justice #wrightworth #narumitsu #krisnix #for background kristoph left Klavier (1) his dog and (2) detailed instructions for how to dramatically dispose of the engagement ring hidden #in the back of his desk drawer. Klavier had to drive to Hazakura for the Symbolism to throw it off the bridge Phoenix Wright once fell from.#there was a love poem recitation involved.#Apollo meanwhile got his faith in his boss wrecked both by the forged evidence in his first trial and the absolutely horrid public divorce #that he was forced to pick sides in.#Trucy is abstaining from the discussion but know that she would have many details to share.#the full vision btw is people are drawn together by klapollos apparent Wrongness and start a bet on how long wrightworth have been secretly #dating. Apollo bets five hundred dollars he doesn’t have that they’re NOT together and krisnix WERE. Klavier backs this up with like three #thousand dollars. of course they win the bet but in the process wrightworth DO end up actually getting together. Klavier and Apollo both #maintain that the relationship isn’t toxic enough.#eli rambles #eli writes

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harlowtales · 6 months ago

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Y/N is in control leaving Jack trying to get the upper hand 🏋️‍♀️

18 + ONLY - Adult Themes 🚫 Minors

THE CLUB

Jack saw you walk in from where he was on the upper floor. You didn’t even know he was there. He had heard about you from The Homies talking about some girl named Y/N. “Naw she like fine fine bruh.” They said as they couldn’t shut up about meeting you. “And real cute, down to earth, you know how Midwest girls are.” They said nudging Jack as they hung out by Indi’s Chicken one day. It was always great to come home and chill. Jack was a Kentucky boy through and through.

“Don’t have to tell me brother.” Jack said with a side grin. “She all that huh?” He said to them as he finished his milk shake with a loud slurp.

“Yeah bruh. Cute as hell.” They all confirmed

“Invite her out tonight then” Jack said “The more the merrier”

“Bet, unlike these losers, I got her private IG.” Ace said as him and Jack parted ways “I’m texting her right now.”

“She on private huh?” Jack said with a raised brow. He was bored with the current selection in his hometown and had been with more than a few local girls making it hard to date. Meeting someone from out of town sounded fun and he preferred talking to people as private as him.

Jack had never really seen the guys like this about a girl. She must be SOMETHING. When he saw you he recognized you from the kickball game. Cutesy face, and thick as hell. He snuck down to the main area of the club. “I gotta see for myself what this chick is all about” he thought. “Hey Y/N?” You heard from behind you and a tap on your shoulder.

There was no mistaking whose voice that was. “In the flesh” You said sweetly turning around and causally sipping on your drink. This lit a spark in Jack he couldn’t explain and not sure he liked it.

“Not your typical way to answer that question.” Jack said. He was used to having a very disarming affect on women.

“Yeah you from the kickball game right? Even seen you at a couple shows. You know my boys huh?” He said trying to strike up a convo.

“Yeah, a little bit. They dope.” You answered. “Can’t believe you’re out. You don’t club it much as far as I know.” You said looking quizzically at him.

Jack couldn’t believe how regular you were treating him. “How she talking to me like I’m just some dude?” You were so chill it was throwing him off.

Just then The Homies started coming in. Ace came up to you immediately. “Y/N!” He excitedly said hugging you. Jack felt a way about Ace hugging you but didn’t know why.

“I live here now” You announced

“Da fuck!?” Ace said taking a few steps back while holding onto your hand which Jack was uncomfortable with. “Sweet, we’ll have to hang” Ace said hugging you again and holding on for a bit too long.

“Shit. Why did I tell him that?” You said to yourself as he seemed way too excited and you didn’t like him like that.

“Y/N lets dance!” Your friend said pulling you to the dance floor. Jack and Ace watched as you disappeared onto the crowded dance floor.

Jack could see Ace was much more interested than you were “What a weird chick.” He thought, but was curious.

THE GYM

“And 1! 2! 3!” The instructor shouted. “Get those knees up!” Why you decided to go to spin class after a night out you didn’t know. You regretted it the whole time but you weren’t the type to make excuses. As you were wiping your brow and downing some water you noticed someone in a hoodie over his head and headphones in a corner with a trainer.

“I’d know those curls popping out of that hoodie anywhere.” You said but headed to the treadmill as you didn’t want to bother him. You would enjoy the view of Jack working out from a distance.

“Come on bruh. Just a couple more. It’s light weight.” The trainer encouraged Jack.

“Ughhh!” Jack grunted as he did his last lift, the barbell crashing to the floor.

“Dassit!” His trainer exclaimed “You a beast man! Now rest for a bit.” He said

Jack took his headphones off and his hoodie as he was panting heavily. He threw his head back and downed an entire bottle of water in one go, his wet curls cascading and clinging to his face.

You almost fell off the treadmill watching him. He went back into his set. He bent over to lift the bar. This time his trainer added more weight. You looked on practically drooling as he clenched his butt and pulled on the bar.

“Ughhhh!” He said loudly as he dropped the bar again.

“He really needs to stop doing that.” You said to yourself trying to think of something else, you changed the music in your headphones and the incline on the machine. You decided to work off the sexual tension you were filled with by going hard.

“Hey easy tiger.” It was that voice behind you again. You heard it through your headphones. That deep raspy smooth voice rumbled through one of his songs you were listening to right now. Ironically this was like a scene right out of Funny Seeing You Here. You felt his presence strongly behind you and pretended not to hear.

Jack came around to the front of the treadmill now to get your attention. You flashed him a sweaty smile and continued running. It was hard for him to believe you fully intended on finishing what you were doing and not acting at all surprised to see him.

He waited for you to finish. “She on one.” He thought as he texted Urban. He was slightly irritated and turned on at the same time. “You finally done?” He said with tension in his voice as you slowed way down to a walk panting heavily.

“Sorry, you waiting to use the machine?” You asked him plainly like he was anyone.

Jack couldn’t believe you right now. “Naw” is all he could manage to say. He handed you your towel.

“Thanks” you said flippantly “Nice set.” You complimented motioning over to where you had seen him lifting weights “You really do be on demon time, and it shows.” You flung your towel over your shoulder nonchalantly and started walking away.

You threw him off again with the compliment while not seeming at all interested in him. This sent his competitive nature into overdrive.

“You want to hit the juice bar? My treat” Jack offered catching up with you.

“Um sure, thank you.” You said cautiously. You had heard about Jack and rappers in general.

“Let’s drink these outside” He said wanting to talk to you outside of the noisy gym.

You followed him to a grassy area through the patio doors of the juice bar into the fresh breeze, leaving the blaring music and hot stuffy gym in the distance.

“After you” Jack said letting you sit down on the bench first. You intimidated him and he wasn’t used to feeling that.

“So it’s Y/N right? That what people call you?” He asked.

“My full name is Y/N but Y/N will do” You said slurping on your fresh green juice.

“Always a smart fucking answer.” He thought. “Ok Y/N will do.” He said slightly irritated with air quotes “You just moved here?”

“Is this an interview?” You said flashing a cocky grin

“Yeah its a fuking interview.” Jack shot back “But I just decided I’m not hiring” He got up to leave in a huff, fed up with your slick answers.

“Jack, chill out, I’m just playing. Come on sit.” You said apologetically patting the spot beside you.

He was embarrassed he was showing his sensitivity and sat back down blushing. You had control and he didn’t know how you got it.

“I am a researcher and I’m doing my masters degree. I’m in Kentucky for work and… just a change, I guess.” You said not wanting someone with Jack’s reputation with women to know too much about you.

Jack admired you immediately. He was so impressed and in awe that you were not trying to be all up in the scene. You had your fun sometimes but was hard at work like him. “I really admire you for all you’re doing.” He said honestly “Most girls I know just trying to get with some rapper for a comfortable life.”

“Um no not me.” You said assuredly “I am set on furthering my education. I guess I’m a nerd to you and your friends. Welp, thanks for the juice Jackman.” You said tossing your cup. You were so nervous you gulped it down and had a brain freeze you were trying not to show.

“Ha!” He said pointing at you “I knew you were a real fan! Fucking knew it!!” He danced in victory as you had broken your cool facade by saying his government name. Only true fans called him Jackman and you did so casually.

“I don’t know what you mean. You alright, but lot of misses for me tbh.” You said trying to gain your power back.

“Naw, you said it. You outted yourself!” He was in trash talking mode now. “I knew it. I was like no way this girl so cool around me every time.”

This bothered you a bit. “Hold on Mr. Harlow.” You said looking him dead in the eye. “Don’t go thinking you’re all that.” You poked his chest with that tempting bit of chest hair poking out from his tank top.

“Well if there was ever any doubt you’re from the Midwest there it goes.” He said having fun now with this crack in your facade.

“How did you know that?” You said surprised

“My guys told me.” Jack said “Look let’s start over… Hi, I’m Jack.” He said holding out his soft hand for a truce handshake.

“What is this Chicken Shop Date?” You giggled “Mighty soft hands for someone lifting that kind of weight.” You said flirtatiously.

Your cool demeanour and ambition had Jack hooked “You’re not like these airheads out here.” He complimented moving close to so nobody could easedrop. “Can I take you out sometime?”

“That would be nice.” You said screaming inside with him moving in so close you could feel the heat from his body that towered over you.

“Damn. I gotta focus on her intelligence cuz that is a whole lotta ass.” Jack said to himself as he was mesmerized by the switch of your ass watching you walk in front of him. If you were his girl he would have slapped it from you being so sassy.

@itsyagirljaz @okaaay-mice @ride4harlow

#jack harlow #fanfic #jackman thomas harlow #romance #jack harlow fanfic #dramatic #jack harlow smut #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader

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shawnxstyles · 2 years ago

Text

the list

DATE: JUNE 15, 2023

summary: tom offers for you and your writing partner to work at the empty frat house when you have no other options. even though you hate tom with a burning passion, you can’t fail this class. when all is going fine, your partner has to leave abruptly for an emergency, leaving you with no way home (wink). thinking you’re all alone, you decide to snoop through tom’s belongings to try to find his rumored list.

request: yessss

song: Hot in Herre- nelly

words: 9.2k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [oral, fingering, cock-thumping, nipple play, choking, deepthroating], m- receiving [blowjob], [small] daddy kink, degrading kink, rough/protected sex [not clearly consensual, but implied], mention of reader going under/slight subspace), pet names (princess), a lot of language, and a lot of dialogue.

note: I’M BACK and i’m with this big baby right here. i hope you guys enjoy this because it took me a few days to write. i’m glad to finally have some time to write again!

frat!tom x college!reader

–

“I’m really glad we got to be partners on this,” You smile as you hug your textbook and notebook to your chest.

“Yeah, me too. I think we’ll do great,” Brandon replies, and then the conversation basically stops there. It was dry and kind of awkward, but he was pretty nice, so it’s alright with you.

Your Creative Writing class was assigned a project that consisted of writing a short story with another person. Your teacher picked the partners and you got Brandon, which you were thankful for because he is original and creative, also known as not being a plagiarizer. But you weren’t sure how well your guys’ genres mixed.

You wrote a lot of old realistic romance stories, whether it was for free-writing in class or on your own time. Brandon apparently wrote a lot of futuristic science fiction and read a lot of comic books. You weren’t against the idea that he was a nerd or a geek, but you just hoped it didn’t overwhelm your writing process. But again, he was nice, which you didn’t get from most guys.

The campus is bussing like usual. All different kinds of people roam the concrete ground waiting for their classes to start or trying to leave without dropping all their things or wandering because they don’t know what else to do. It’s a balance that you’ve been accustomed to for the past year. Yeah, you took a gap year at 18 and are now a 20 year-old sophomore in college, but that doesn’t mean you have your shit figured out. No one does, and that kind of comforts you.

With these random thoughts, you and Brandon walk through the crowded campus until you reach the library.

“What the hell,” You squint your eyes at the paper sign that is taped to the glass door. You suggested the library as your work spot because Starbucks may be a little loud and you needed a lot of silence while writing. You’re also very picky with your own stories, so you can’t even imagine how it’s going to be when you combine ideas. Maybe you should just be less conceited…

As you read the surprisingly fine print, you find out that the room is having an inspection check.

“The librarian told people not to eat in there,” Brandon shakes his head in disappointment and you sigh in subtle annoyance.

“Well what are–”

“Oh, shit, it’s closed?” A voice appears from behind you and you nearly turn around and swing at the body. Only because you know whose body it belongs to.

A body with perfect fucking arms and a stupidly good-looking face–

Stop it.

“No, it’s just locked and has a sign that says it’s closed,” You roll your eyes as you spin around, facing Tom in all his stupid glory. A slight smirk creeps up his face as his eyes look down at you. You watch as he chews his gum, and you hate that it’s kind of hot.

Stop. It.

“What’s with the attitude? I just asked a question–”

“Well, it was a stupid question,” You snarl, biting on your lip in irritation. Even looking at him gets you all riled up because you know how he is.

You’re not sure exactly when you started hating Tom, but you know exactly why. Hate might be a strong word, but it goes well with the feeling you experience every time his name is mentioned or you see his smug face. You hate the way he talks about girls. You hate the way he treats girls, like they’re on some type of list and he’s just checking them off. Every time he even looks at a woman he finds mildly attractive, she’s instantly on said-list. He probably has a handwritten copy somewhere. You wouldn’t be surprised because you’ve heard that rumor before.

You heard a lot about him before you actually knew him. You heard through the grapevine that he lost his virginity to a girl in college when he was only 15, and now he’s a senior in college. And that he fucked three different girls in the same day during his senior year of high school. And a new one that you’ve heard is that he has sex every single day with a new person because he can’t live without it. You’re not sure if all of these are true or correct, but after you got to know him just a little, you know that it can’t be too far from the truth.

Tom was in your Film Analysis class last year. You purposely sat next to him because you thought he was cute, and you weren’t wrong, but you paid for it at the end of the year. He would constantly peek at your papers, and at first, you thought it was a sign of flirting. But he was just too involved with his phone during the films that he never knew what was going on once the assignments came. Your professor didn’t let you guys change seats because it was easier to take attendance with a seating chart, and he had “hundreds of students every day” blah blah blah. Why did your teacher have to be so old he was on the brink of death?

Throughout the entire year, you would overhear Tom talk about girls and what he was doing with them. It disgusted you that someone could be so objective and still get the girl (or girls), but you tried not to get involved with it. Then one day, like a random switch, Tom tried to hit on you. He tries to deny it, saying “Why would I do that?” and “You’re not my type” and shit like that, but Tom is only in it for the sex. He doesn’t care too much about appearances, so that’s how you know he was full of shit.

To this day, you swear you’re still on his list, whether it’s a physical or mental one. Tom flirts with you like he can, and yeah, sometimes that fucks with your head, but you remain composure. Because of your curiosity, you want to find out, one, if he actually has a list and two, if you’re on it. But your hate for him overpowers your curious wonders. If you did find this “list,” you wouldn’t stop making fun of him for it. And, he wouldn’t be able to survive if you were actually on it.

“Can we work at your place, Y/N?” Brandon asks, completely ignoring Tom.

“Can’t,” You reply, “my roommate asked for the evening, so she can…have her boyfriend over.”

“Oh,” he stares at the ground awkwardly and scratches his neck.

“Oh, you mean have sex?” Tom inserts himself into the conversation. You glare at him with searing lasers in your eyes. “What? You can’t say the word sex? Does it turn you on too much or something?”

“Tom!” You whack him in the arm with your heavy textbook and he simply laughs. It was whole and deep, and it made you feel all warm, but so did your hatred for him, so what’s the difference? “What is wrong with you? Do you have any filter?”

“I’m going to say…no,” he winks and crosses his arms like he is the coolest person to walk this earth. His smugness makes your fists clench and your blood overheat with fiery.

“Okay, before this gets into an argument, where are we going to work?” Brandon chips in with his hand on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, trying to think rationally.

“You can work at my place,” Tom licks his pink lips and infamously smirks again. Your body is so hot that it melted your brain into a mush of incomprehension, so you can’t even respond to his idiocracy before Brandon very unsurely says why not.

Fuck.

–

“Welcome to The House,” Tom introduces dramatically while flinging the door open for you both. You swear that was the most gentleman-like thing he’s ever done.

“At least come up with an original name,” You roll your eyes again like your body has been programmed to every time Tom opens his mouth.

“So much attitude for such a tiny person,” he taunts, shutting the door behind him. Brandon walks quickly into the dining room with his backpack, leaving himself out of the very heart-felt conversation between you and Tom. Your jaw ticks a tad at his words. “I love when you roll your eyes.”

Your face scrunches in disgust, but can’t help it when your curiosity slips from your mouth, “Why?”

“Because then I know I’ve done my job,” A hint of a smirk rises on his lips while your eye twitches at his arrogance.

“And what is your job? To annoy the shit out of me? ‘Cause if it is, congratulations! You get promoted every time you talk to me,” No matter how badly you want to, you resist the urge to roll your eyes just because you know how much it would please him. Even with your irate words, that all-too familiar smirk lingers like he’s proud.

He likes when you fight back because no one ever does. It’s easy for him. Too easy sometimes. Yeah, he likes when he can sleep with a girl without having to try too hard, but once he met you, he realized he liked a bit of a fight. Tom craved the passion and bubbling tension that strangled the air between you both. It was thrilling and enthralling, and he knew with enough poking and prodding, you would snap. That was his job; to make you snap.

“Close, but no cigar.”

“What are you, like, a hundred?”

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me, princess.” There’s that name. That stupid fucking name. You know that he throws that title around like candy to women. You know that the sweet undertone of the tag is what it does for them and what gets them in his bed at the end of the night. It angered you that he thought you were so easy, so gullible. But no, you weren’t going to let him smooth-talk you all the way to his bedroom. Even if it was just upstairs…

“Actually, I’m not anymore,” You finished the conversation and walked away. After you stopped facing him, your eyes immediately went to the back of your head in a dramatic roll. As you enter the dining room, you are suddenly aware of the heat radiating off your skin. You lift a hand up to your beaming cheeks, which turn out to be flaming with the fury bubbling in your blood.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Brandon asks, being the nice guy he is. You swallowed and inhaled.

“Yeah. Let’s get started.”

–

Not even ten minutes later, Tom comes bustling into the room. He says he was just checking up on you guys, but he was just trying to annoy you. After half an hour, he comes back again, saying something about the last football game and if you two have watched it. You inhale a few times, squeezing your pencil in your hand. He walks into the kitchen ajar and grabs something from the fridge.

“Tom, can you leave us alone? We have to get this done by Friday.”

“But it’s my house. I should be able to go wherever I want in my own house.”

“You literally invited us here, so we could work in peace!” You didn’t mean to shout, but Tom brought out the worst in you.

“I never said anything about peace–”

“Look, Tom, just please leave us alone, yeah?” You lowered your voice a bit, hoping maybe he would hear you. To your surprise, he licks his lips and re-enters the dining room, standing near your chair at the end of the table.

“All you had to do was say please, princess,” he winks and struts away, and somewhere inside of you is annoyed that he got the last word. But a big part of you was…affected. Badly. You never thought in a million years the name princess coming from his mouth would hit you, but for some odd reason, it did. Maybe it was because of his impromptu alliteration. Or the wink–no, it couldn’t have been the wink. Maybe it was the octave of his voice? You noticed how it got a tad deeper when he talked to you compared to how he did earlier. Were you looking too far into it?

Fuck, now he’s got you in your head.

Was this his job all along?

“How does that idea sound?” Brandon’s voice pulled you from your overwhelming thoughts, but not fast enough.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch what you said,” You apologize with a head shake. He repeats, and you write it down. This goes on for about an hour or so; you two throwing ideas back and forth.

You tried to find middle ground. You assumed you would be writing some sci-fi romance, and you were correct. Although you wanted to be there in the moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about Tom, and just the thought infuriated you. If you were present, you wouldn’t have complied and agreed to some of Brandon’s suggestions without more of a fight. The more ideas he spouted out, the weirder they got.

“Robots…God, I love writing about robots. Robots falling in love?” he pauses for a moment. “while trying to take over the world! You have to write that one down.”

You wrote it down, but your mind was moving differently than your body. As he suggested more topics, you zoned out completely. He was clearly very into the process and you…couldn’t have been farther from it. Like an echo, Tom lingered in your mind.

Where was he? What was he doing? Was he having sex right now? Why wasn’t he bothering you anymore?

You might have told him please, but Tom is just as stubborn as they come. You can’t say much though because you’re just as stubborn yourself. Maybe that’s why you two always bicker. You wondered if he fought with anyone else like how he battled you. Was he trying to make you mad just for the fun of it, or did he want something more?

Was there really a list? You can’t be the only person who’s considered that, right?

“Oh no.” The two words out of Brandon’s mouth brought you back because they were different from one of his absurd ideas. His eyes are staring at his phone screen once you start focusing in on him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“It’s…a family emergency. Shit, Y/N, I have to go up North. Like right now. Do you think we can pick this up in a few days?” He wavers out nervously and clearly full of panic.

“Y-yeah, of course!” You blink rapidly at the sudden change and nod to every word without really thinking.

“Are you sure?” He questions, but he’s already standing up from the table with his backpack tight around his shoulders and his keys in his hand.

“Yes, now go!” You flee him from the house, so he can get a head-start on his drive. As his car zooms down the street, your eyes wander to the empty driveway of the house. And then it gets you wondering again.

How are you going to get to your dorm?

“Fuck,” You grumble in the evening air, the sun barely beginning to set.

You had no money on you, and of course your card wasn’t linked to your phone, so you couldn’t buy an Uber, Lyft, or anything. You creep your way back into the frat house with slugged shoulders. You drop yourself onto the small couch as silence roams around. You never in your life thought that a frat house, or any house with just guys, would be this quiet. It makes sense that they’re all out though because they’re all social butterflies trying to get laid at the latest party. Woo hoo. Sense the sarcasm?

Feeling sorry for yourself, you wander around the house. You pad the entire downstairs area before making your way up the staircase. The second you touch the top step, your curiosity starts to plague you.

Where’s Tom’s room?

Yeah, okay, maybe it’s rude, but you don’t know what to do. And, come on, it’s Tom. He doesn’t care. More specifically, you don’t care. You don’t care that you’re about to snoop his room because no one is here and it’s not like he’s going to know, right?

There’s about five bedrooms upstairs and three of the doors were open. With delicacy, you barely pushed open the doors that weren’t closed completely as if they would creak loudly and someone would find you. You peeked in a few rooms, glancing at the designs to see if you saw something that related to Tom. None of the rooms seemed fitting.

And then, like a lightbulb, you remembered that Tom was the leader, or whatever bullshit they called him. You know the title only ever gave him an ego boost. In most cases, the “leader” gets the biggest bedroom, well, at least that’s what it was like at your friend’s sorority house. So, testing your theory, you trail down the carpeted hallway until you reach the last room, which you assumed was the largest. Turning the knob, your eyes stare at the master bedroom before you.

Called it.

The room had white walls, just like the others. But Tom had a lot more personality through his decorating than you would have thought and it was…surprisingly…well-kept. Maybe it wasn’t his room.

As you stepped a foot inside, you got the hint that his favorite color was blue; navy bed sheets, baby blue desk lamp, midnight-colored nightstand, cyan desk chair, and a few other accessories that solidified the idea. Your eyes stay glued to his bed for a moment. It was a little ruffled, like he had been sleeping in it, but you knew that bed had been through more than just sleeping. You never thought you’d feel bad for a mattress and some sheets.

Before you know it, you’re traveling towards his desk, which was white (everything was very randomly assorted). You nibble on your bottom lip, debating on if it’s worth digging through the four drawers to find the one thing that’s been nagging you for months.

The list.

Something deep inside of you is warning you that searching through his belongings is a bad idea, but there’s really nothing that stops you from pulling open the first compartment. Carefully, you shift around the assortment of pens and pencils until you admit there’s nothing but those in there. Moving on to the second drawer below the first, it’s extremely heavy. Then you realize the weight is from three hefty textbooks that look completely untouched.

Makes sense.

In the next top drawer, there’s nothing useful beside clean, unused binder paper. Losing all hopes of being right, you check the final drawer. Just in case.

You didn’t know what you were going to find inside of there. But whatever you may have thought, it wasn’t this.

In the deep compartment was a bunch of clothes. Women’s clothes. A few shirts, even some socks, but mainly bras and panties. You almost touched them to sift through it, but immediately retracted your hand before doing so, assuming these articles haven’t been cleaned. Your face is frozen in disgust at the pile as if your gaze is going to burn all of it away.

“I thought it would take a lot more work to get you into my bedroom,” A deep accent says, causing you to jot and slam the drawer closed.

From your crouch, you fall to the ground, heart racing erratically at the sight of Tom. Every nerve of your body was screaming in alert because you thought you were alone. Layers of goosebumps litter your skin when you visually take in his appearance; frizzy, damp hair, dark blue briefs, and a white towel draped over his buff shoulder. You swallow every bit of your saliva and leave your mouth completely dry as your eyes shamefully trail down his entire physique.

It’s not like he’s trying to hide anything.

“It’s a bit rude to stare, yeah?” he ticks, using the towel to dry his hair a bit more. His briefs were a little tight, and you wondered if they were the wrong size. Especially from your seat on the floor, you got the perfect view of his bulge outline. Your stomach burned and your eyes couldn’t stop blinking, trying to make the image go away, but it didn’t. It was real. At this point, he’s basically just giving you a free show. You mentally hated yourself for enjoying every second of it.

Stop it. Now, how are you going to get out of this?

“What were you looking for?” Tom asks almost innocently with a lick of his pink lips, trying to hold back a little smirk. Tom liked watching you snap, but he loved when you were flustered. He loves watching you get embarrassed because you feel hot all over. It’s a sight to see.

“Something to get you arrested,” You reply just as lightly, trying to hide your startledness before awkwardly pushing yourself on your feet. You try to keep your eyes away from him, but it’s difficult when his body is practically glistening in all its chiseled glory.

“Like what? A gun?” he jokes with a charming smile, slowly striding closer to you. Your breathing staggered a tad, but you kept your composure. Mostly.

He honestly looked like he had a gun in his briefs.

He laughs.

“I hope you know it’s not a gun, princess,” That lingering smirk is plastered on his arrogant face again and you wanted to punch it off of him. You couldn’t believe yourself for thinking out loud, especially because it was the last thing you wanted him to hear. You knew it was only an ego-booster. Your entire body flushes in overwhelming heat, wondering how you’re ever going to escape his looming presence.

“I-I obviously know that’s not a gun, Thomas,” You grind your molars at your stuttering because it makes you look and sound weak. Your trembling fingers turn into heated fists that have been ignited by only one thing; your arousal.

“Thomas? That’s a new one,” While you’re stuck in place, Tom doesn’t shy away from inching closer towards you. You don’t even realize it, but you’re holding your breath. “Are you okay, Y/N? You look a bit…flushed.”

Your heart unconsciously stammers against your chest, attempting to find an outlet. But there is none. Just like there is no escape from Tom as he stands in front of you unmoving. He’s so close, impossibly so, that your pounding heart is lurching towards his.

“It’s…hot in here,” You reply with an observation. Your voice was whispering as if your voice was afraid to speak any louder. With his proximity he could probably hear every heated pump of your blood.

“Like the song,” Tom smirks because he knows the real reason why you’re all hot and bothered. It’s something deeper than the temperature of his bedroom (because it really wasn’t that warm). “You know it, right?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” You almost roll your eyes before you stop yourself.

“Remind me, what’s the next lyric?”

A wave of heat crashes over your neck at his words, deep and low. Your stomach was burning with desire while your clit was throbbing in your underwear. You never would have thought that you’d be turned on by Tom, but you were doing only the impossible today.

Escaping this situation has left your mind. The only thing in your head now is staying in it.

“Take off all your clothes,” A breathless sound wavers out of your throat and you’re surprised you were even able to respond. Tom’s face is smug, almost proud at how flushed you are. His hand reaches up and ever-so delicately traces over your jawline. It was so gentle, but because he was finally touching you, you nearly moaned. You’ve never needed someone so badly before, and you never thought the person you’d be needing the most would be Tom.

You keep thinking that, but it’s just so hard to comprehend the idea of anything Tom.

“Is that something you want?” Tom’s husky voice fans over your heated skin as his fingers trail down your neck. Your chest raises up and down, and even if you’re trying to fight the feeling, you can’t. Your entire body wants him–no, damn-near craves him–to the point where you can’t even speak. Your subconsciousness hates you because you know how much he is just loving this. You hate to give him such satisfaction. “D’you want to strip? Right here in front of me? Or do you want me to do it for you? Because–”

“Yes,” You whisper with your eyes facing his chest, too afraid to stare into his lust-taken eyes.

“No,” he says, and for a moment when he took a breath, you thought he’d just rejected you. “I need to hear you say it all. I need to hear you tell me what you want. Tell me how bad you want it. I bet I can give it to you. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

His words practically made you a puddle at his feet, but they also made you want to slap him with those heavy textbooks until he learned some manners. Has he really been waiting for you? Or is that just another one of his lines? One that he uses on every single girl he gets in his bed?

Your mind might have cared at any other time, but your body overruled.

“I want…” Your mind was filled with so many possibilities, it was crowding your brain. Tom’s hand that was tracing your jawline then cupped your neck gently, causing you to sigh. You couldn’t resist swallowing all of your saliva again along with your pride. Because you were about to do something really stupid. If you were in a clear mindset, this would have never happened, you’re sure of it. But common sense isn’t here to guide you right now; only desire and lust. “I want you to fuck me, Tom. Hard. Harder than you’ve ever fucked anybody before.”

“Not quite what I was looking for, but I’ll get you there.”

Tom doesn’t hesitate to wrap his hand completely around your neck while crashing his lips to yours. They mush together so sloppily, you could barely call it a kiss. But, damn, did it feel good. Fire and passion laced your lips, and it was so intoxicating that you thought you would overdose on his euphoria. Your mind couldn’t even react properly while your body was going haywire. One of your hands snaked up to the nape of his neck while the other was squeezing his naked bicep tightly.

The proximity of your bodies was about to make you pass out from a heat stroke.

In the misty moment, he leads you towards the bed. If you’d known better, you would have pushed him and told him to fuck off because he would not get to sleep with you. But you didn’t know better. Matter of fact, the only thing you knew right now was Tom Tom Tom.

When your knees hit the edge of the mattress, your body goes tumbling backwards, causing your heart to race even more than it had been. You break the kiss in a gasp, but Tom doesn’t let you fall too far, holding you securely with one hand on your waist and the other on your neck.

“Already falling for me. It’s a bit soon, yeah?” Tom flirts condescendingly with a single chuckle, standing on the edge after dropping you onto the bed. Good, you thought. You didn’t want delicacy anymore. You wanted roughness. You couldn’t allow yourself to be sweet and intimate with Tom. Not if you didn’t want to fall in love with him or get attached.

Not that that was possible.

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying to, princess,” Even with the insult, his smirk lingers on like a tattoo. Although you despise that ridiculous nickname, your body didn’t care. When the word rolled off his tongue, your stomach erupted in needy desire and your cunt clenched around nothing. Tom isn’t new to a woman’s arousal. He knows when someone is turned on. It appears in their voice, their body obviously, but always in their eyes. And that lust was laced within you: in your voice, body, and eyes.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” he taunts, hovering over your trembling body while your mind still tries to come to terms with what the fuck is happening.

“Of course not,” You grumble, but it comes out all quiet.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that. Maybe you’ll be surprised,” he infamously winks before traveling down your neck in harsh kisses. You try to withhold the whimpers he’s causing because it's impossible with the amount of pleasure you’re feeling.

Kneeling on both sides of you, Tom’s hands weave their way under your top, exploring your torso mindlessly. His palms are heavy and rough, the only type you wanted to feel when it came to him. You were wearing a simple bralette that you would feel his fingers trace over impatiently.

“Take it off,” You moaned when he nimbled a bit hard behind your ear. You felt him breathe a chuckle, and you just knew he was smirking. As per usual.

“That’s not very nice,” Tom tsks, halting all his movements and hovering over your flushed face. You were in a daze and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Your core was on fire waiting desperately to be taken care of by the so-called “sex god.”

“I didn’t want it to be,” Grumbling, you grind on your teeth again in impatience. “This was a mistake–”

In complete irritation, despite your body’s desires, you force yourself to sit up. However, Tom does not let that slide. Within seconds your arms are being pinned above your head and he is straddling your hips snuggly. There was no escaping him.

In this position, you could feel his bulge barely pressing against your lower tummy. The thickness nearly made you moan because you were so desperate for it, but God knows you would never get on your knees and beg for it. That’s the last thing you’ll ever do, especially for someone like Tom.

“Slow down there, princess. We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already trying to do the walk of shame.”

“Because you’re being an asshole!”

“I just wanted you to say please, princess,” Tom says innocently, but the most devilish smile rises upon his lips. It’s cruel how contradicting the two are, but you loved it. It spiraled you on even more. “Now, I don’t really care what you say.”

Following his word, Tom didn’t listen to a single word you said. Even though they only consisted of calling him a dickhead, asshole, and fucker, but that’s not the point. Before you know it, your clothes are stripped completely from you and you’re basically in the same predicament as Tom. He clips off your bralette and hastily rips it from your body, tossing it to some unknown place on his surprisingly well-kept floor.

Your breath hinges at the new vulnerability. Tom licks his lips lustfully at the sight of your near-naked body, but doesn’t say anything. No two-cented comment or some witted joke. Nope. Nothing. Something inside of you tingled.

His aggressive hands roughly massaged your breasts. He twisted and flicked your nipples with no care in the world, and that’s just how you liked it. You released a breathy moan when your nipples reached their peak, but he didn’t stop his miniature torture. Mindlessly, you bucked your hips up, right into him.

“Getting off just from some nipple play? God, you must be desperate,” Tom dryly chuckles.

“Shut up,” You groan when his mouth latches onto your raw nipple, intensifying the pain and pleasure that’s firing up in your body.

Tom’s wandering tongue finally makes it down to your underwear, which is soaked through with your arousal. You’re embarrassed to discover his reaction because you know it’s only going to make him even more air-headed than he already is. Your legs are tightly closed, but you widen them just a tad more. Tom isn’t having it.

“Open. I want to see what I do to you.”

You swear your heart skipped a beat because you nearly fucking died right there. Annoyingly obeying him, you open your legs more, giving him more access to your vulnerability. Also, giving him more ammunition to use to make fun of you. You knew for a fact that you would regret all of this in the future, but right now, for some fucking reason, you didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck,” Tom growled so low that you almost didn’t hear him. His face was now so close to you that you could practically feel his grumble vibrate through your thighs and straight to your cunt. “This is what I do to you? This whole time? And you’ve been running away…how selfish of you. To keep this from me.”

“I’m selfish? You are definitely the last person that’s–” The power of your words are cut short when he slides down your panties without hesitation. “–able to say that.”

“How about you stop saying stuff and let me get on with it?”

“Oh, please! Like I’m the one that’s stopping you.”

“Look who learned how to say please,” he smirks, hands prying open your thighs even wider than before. You inhale sharply as your cunt opens completely for him, dripping in your arousal. “Now, shut the fuck up unless you’re crying my name. Got it, princess?”

In the midst of an eyeroll, Tom places his mouth onto your clit. Places might be the wrong word. He latched his mouth hungrily onto you, like he would starve if he didn’t have you right now. Your eyes squeeze shut in shock, trying to decipher the incredible feeling of his mouth on you. Slurping and licking, Tom devours you whole and you can’t stop your body from squirming all over the place from the overwhelming euphoria.

To make you even more insane and to make you lose a bit more of your brain cells, Tom slyly slips one of his fingers in your cunt. It was undeniably soaking, so he slid it in easily. His pace is rigorous, thrusting in and out while sucking harshly on your clit.

Like Tom had requested, you were moaning. At first, it was just a few noises, but then, it turned into his name. The only word you seemed to know was Tom as you wailed and cried from his attack on your cunt. Even as your hips bucked into his face, he held you securely down with his forearm and continued to ram into you until you eventually came.

When you came, it was like you were hit by a freight train. Your orgasm slammed over you so powerfully that you saw stars for a moment. Oh, and you squirted, which you’ve never done before. Your wetness dripped down Tom’s face, and it was kind of funny to you, even if you felt a little bad about it (not really). But Tom had that tattooed-smirk on his face that let you know he was enjoying himself too much. Conceited as always.

“Didn’t know you were a squirter,” Tom wipes away your orgasm with his shower towel while your entire face goes hot again.

“Neither did I.”

“First time? What a pleasure.”

“Oh, shut up,” You roll your eyes, forgetting that he actually likes that. He smiles, but hides it with a smirk. Then Tom pulls down his tight briefs. Looking at his equipment, you nearly choked. It was thick and veiny, and the tip was an angry pink.

You wanted him inside of you, but if this was going to be the only time you do this, might as well get your fill.

“Actually,” You start, heart thumping rapidly. “Can I…”

You didn’t even really ask, you just slowly lowered yourself onto the floor. Tom didn’t stop you, just watched as you kneeled. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his cock, waiting for him to terminate your movements.

“I’d never say no to a blowjob, princess.”

Rolling your eyes, your warm fingertips rub over his leaking slit. He hisses at the sudden contact, but moans gutturally when your tongue touches him. You lick up his shaft, soaking the entire surface with your saliva. Tom’s hefty hands find themselves tangled in your hair, using it for balance.

Once you take him deeper into your mouth, the urge to pump himself down your throat gets tougher. You hollow out your cheeks, slurping up and down until your face is burning. With confidence, you push him lower down your throat until you gag around his length.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, his sounds echoing on his blue walls. His stomach contracts, abs tensing as he senses his high approaching.

A few tears twinkle in your eyes, and to kill Tom even more, you decide to stare up at him through your lashes. Your expression appears innocent, but he knows you’re anything but with the way you’re taking his cock amazingly.

When Tom can’t restrain himself anymore, his hips start bucking into your face. He feels you moan against him even if he caught you off guard, sending a wave of vibration through his whole body euphorically. His grip on your hair tightens while the tears that were brimming your eyes start to fall down like a waterfall.

The picture of you crying while his cock was shoved down your throat was enough to get him off through the rest of college. Maybe even the rest of his 20s. You wanted it rough, and you took him like a champ.

With your fingernails digging into his thighs, Tom was sure to come soon. And in the next few moments, he did. He was so blindsided that he didn’t warn you, didn’t tell you to get off of him so you didn’t choke on his cum. But then, you swallowed him without any hesitation.

Tom was nearly hard again because of it.

His remaining orgasm leaked from the corners of your lips, which you wiped away with the towel on the bed. Tom was trying to not appear dumbstruck while you were trying to rid the tears from your face, even though you were almost positive that Tom got off on them.

You had done a lot of blowjobs and deepthroating throughout your college years because again, men aren’t too nice or generous. You just so happen to be both.

As you stand up from the ground, Tom doesn’t wait to push you onto the mattress again.

“That was…” he starts before groaning quietly. Was he reliving it? “I need to be deep inside of your cunt.”

You blinked at the suddenness of his words. He couldn’t give you a single compliment? At this point, you weren’t going to waste anymore time fighting about it. Looking at his cock, he was basically hard again. That seemed like a compliment in itself. His angry tip and thick veins looked like if he knew how to use his dick, it could potentially destroy you. Isn’t that what you wanted, though?

Hell yes.

“Get on with it then,” You pressed, trying to widen your legs a bit more. After your first orgasm and Tom’s, you’re not as shaky as you’d been in the beginning. You got some of your wits back.

“Impatient much? Didn’t the palace ever teach you manners?” Tom jokes with a knowing smirk before hovering over you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes irritatingly at his extra comment. His cock thumped over your clit a few times, causing you to gasp at the weighted feeling. You didn’t even know he had put a condom on, but the texture of his cock felt like latex, so you assumed.

Even though you told him to get on with it, he doesn’t. Tom’s lips kiss and bite your neck while he continuously slaps your clit with his heavy cock. Whimpers elicited from your mouth at the friction; it wasn’t a lot, but you were still sensitive from your last orgasm. Every time his dick hit the hood of your clit, shots of electricity fired inside of you.

“T-Tom!” You shouted annoyed, attempting to get his attention. But of course, your voice came out as a wavering moan and you saw his ego fly into the sky like a rocket. You can never win, can you? “Can you just fuck me already? What’s with all the foreplay?”

“Can you just shut the fuck up?” Tom stops all of his movements and grasps your throat in his hand. You glare into his blackened-eyes with an angered lust that he’s never seen before. But he likes it. He really likes it. “I’ll fuck you. Yeah, and I’ll keep fucking you until I’m done.”

His last words come out as a growl, one that was so primal and aggressive, you couldn’t stop the arousal that leaked from you. Finally, Tom pushes himself inside of you with no mercy.

Tom’s fingers are still wrapped around your throat, his pressure on and off so you get a millisecond to breathe. His cock slams into you at a meticulous and quick pace. Even with the condom on, you can feel every inch of his length sliding through you like it was raw.

You couldn’t even imagine how good it would feel if it was raw.

With no warning, Tom begins to flick his hips up into you. A broken croak elicits from your trapped throat while your cunt squeezes his cock harshly.

“Fuckin’ love this, aren’t you? Love how I fuck you? Love how I talk to you like you’re nothing?” His voice is guttural and low, laced with lust and degradation. “You’re just a hole f’me. A hole so fucking tight I can barely get my big cock through.”

You hate how egotistical he is, but your core is still on fire with every one of his words. He releases pressure on your throat for a bit longer, and you cry out in moans. His now free hand gropes your breast, slapping and twisting the nipple without care. Your back arched so aggressively, you thought you might cramp up.

Tom rammed into you like there was no tomorrow. His balls slammed against you while his light pubic hair tickled your clit and gave you just a bit more stimulation. Everything was making you float. Your body was just taking everything he was giving you and you were loving it. All the other times you’ve had sex they were gentle and sweet, but now, you’ve realized that it was just boring.

Tom somehow manages to curve his cock inside of you in such a way that it hits you in the perfect spot. A scream of his name flies out of your mouth before you clench snuggly around his shaft again. His name is the only thing your lips know.

“Daddy! Fuck,” You gasp at your own words, the title just slipping out. Your hand covers your mouth in a haste, shutting yourself up before you say anything else. Your eyes screw shut in embarrassment, hoping he didn’t hear you. But it was hard not to when you fucking screamed it. The neighbors probably heard you.

When you got too deep into it, you tended to say things like that. However, you’re usually able to compose yourself before you let it slip. But the way Tom is absolutely destroying you gives you no time to think, no time to do anything but feel.

“Of course, you’re fucking filthy. If I knew you were such a slut, I would’ve made you beg for my cock,” Tom growls in your neck, pounding into you with no remorse. Your mind is in a haze and your body is still on fire from embarrassment and passion. You tried your hardest to hold in your moans after satisfying him with that title, but Tom won’t let you.

He rips your hand away from your mouth, and for leverage, you instantly grip onto his shoulders. With each hostile thrust, your nails dig deeper into his skin, creating red curves all over him. Somewhere inside of you felt a sense of pride because you know that there will be marks later on. Is this what Tom feels like all the time?

Your cunt clutches his dick again, but this time your orgasm is near. Your hand travels down in between you two to rub your clit, but Tom beats you to it. His rough fingertips violently circle the little nub, sending your eyes rolling backwards. When you feel his pace slowing just a tad, you assume that he’s just as close.

“Daddy,” You mewl, scratching his arm as your hips thrust up towards his. Yeah, you were pretty deep.

But so was he.

“Know you’re close, baby. Feel you squeezin’ m’cock,” Tom grumbles gravely in your ear, and his voice sends a tingle down your arched spine. Although it was rough and raggedy, it was the softest he’s been to you all night. “Come, right fucking now, princess.”

Yeah, you might despise him outside of the bedroom, and maybe a little bit in it, but who are you to disobey such a thing?

Your entire body tenses and your heart stops. You don’t even feel yourself breathing as your orgasm washes over you like a never-ending tsunami. Your brain is overwhelmingly fuzzy, your breasts are sore, and your cunt is aching from all it. But you loved every bit of it. It was something you didn’t know you wanted, but when you got it, it changed your views and feelings on everything.

Sliding in and out of you slickly, Tom comes soon after you with a string of profanities falling from his pretty lips. Even if he was conceited, he was a striking man. His body was hand-crafted by God in addition to going to the gym every day. When his muscles contracted over you, you couldn’t stop fawning over him. And his face was remarkable, it was unfair how someone could be given so many good social-standard genes. You wished you could say it was all a rumor. But it was hard to insult his looks when everything he gloated about was true. It was just annoying that he was aware of it.

Funny, right?

“Y/N,” Tom repeated your name over you, hoping you would wake up in the present moment. You were clearly in your head and Tom was a little concerned to say the least. Maybe he sleeps with a bunch of different women and maybe he’s arrogant, but that doesn’t mean he’s heartless.

Blinking several times, you snap out of whatever mindless daze you’ve been in. He’d already thrown away the condom and put on some boxers, not briefs. He gently wiped any excess orgasm away with his towel, your body subtly squirming from the stimulation. When Tom finally sees you coming to your senses, he slowly leans away from you, assuming you want space.

“Wait,” You find yourself saying without knowing what you want him to wait for. When his body rose from yours, you felt cold. It was so uncomforting, knowing that you’ve been so warm this entire time. Tom stares down at your naked body and watches goosebumps fan your skin. Your nipples pebble and stomach contracts. You feel so vulnerable.

“What?” Tom asks a little breathily, one arm holding himself up for balance. He couldn’t really say anything else. For the first time in a while, he’s completely starstruck by you. Your bare figure with your lion-like frizz of hair on his bed, tangled in his blue sheets is a sight he’ll never unsee. He honestly thinks he needs a moment to collect himself before staring at your beauty again.

Have you always been this beautiful?

“It’s…cold.”

“Now, it’s cold? I’m not the weatherman, princess,” Tom smiles like a child with a slight tilt. Your eyes roll like usual, but a smile is tugging at your lips this time. “Maybe you should put some clothes on.”

“Maybe you should shut up,” You retaliate, pushing yourself up. You’re face to face with Tom, merely inches away from each other.

“I love when you fight me,” he compliments, moving his head in little shakes like he adores you. Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

“Why? Because I put you in your place?”

“Something like that,” Tom sits next to you on the bed while you wrap yourself in his sheets. You really didn’t feel like wandering around the entire room completely naked with his eyes watching you. “Also, what were you looking for earlier? I know it wasn’t a gun.”

That familiar wave of heat flushes your skin and your mouth gets all dry. Are you sweating?

“Pfft, I don’t even remember. Must have slipped my mind,” Out of all the things you could have said, you decided to act stupid. Good going.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad. I’ve probably heard worse,” Your wide eyes meet his, full of embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m assuming it’s some rumor thing you heard, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Tell me.” You’ve already had sex with him, and that’s the lowest you could go. So, it can’t be worse than that.

“I was looking for the list.”

“Not even a list but the list? Must be some pretty special list,” he smirks with an arrogant lick of his lips. One of your hands rubs your arm for comfort while you explain the entirety of what you’ve heard. It took a few minutes, but Tom was listening to every word. He nodded along with a sly smirk on his lips.

“So, it’s a list of all the people I want to sleep with. Is this list in order?” Out of all the questions he could have asked, that’s what he said? Maybe he is completely conceited.

“I guess so. I assumed you could rearrange it if you’d like.”

“Are the women rated?”

“What? That’s disgusting!” Physically writing down how well someone was at sex was pathetic to you. But the curious cat in your mind was wondering one thing:

What would Tom rate you?

“Well, if I had a list, you’d probably be near the top.”

There is no fucking way you said that out loud.

“You did, though,” Tom laughs while your fists clench his sheets embarrassingly. You fall backwards onto the mattress, covering your face with the bedding.

Why are you still in his room? Why have you not felt the urge to flee yet?

Your skin was burning from embarrassment and your heart was beating sporadically, but your breathing was steady and your mind was decently clear. So, why were you still lying in Tom Holland’s bed naked without a single thought of leaving? Did you…like it?

Or maybe because you have no way home and what’s the rush?

“Hey,” Tom says while you’re still beneath the covers. “Are you still cold?”

“Yes,” You mumble quietly.

“Do you…want to take a bath? Or a shower if that’s weird–” Your head slowly peeks out from the navy blue, finding Tom’s wandering eyes. His large hand was scratching the back of his curly head. A single tingle shot through your body, making you a degree warmer. It was the first time you’ve seen him even a little bit unsure of himself, and that made you smile. Just a tad because it let you know that maybe you’ve made him snap out of whatever bubble he lives in. Even just for a moment.

Discarding the sheet, you sit up on your knees at the edge of the bed. Like before, you’re face to face with Tom, and you can see the struggle in his eyes to not look down at your bare breasts. It nearly makes you break out into a fit of laughter, but you carry on.

“I’ll go with the bath,” You whisper seductively and don’t hide the way you stare down at his pink lips. You couldn’t help it. They just look so kissable.

What is wrong with you!

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it then,” Tom coughs awkwardly. He’s never been like this before. He’s good with the flirting, seducing, foreplay, sex, and even the aftermath of leaving right after. But the second it even gets remotely romantic or intimate, he shuts it down quickly before anything else can happen. Though right now, he’s the one who made it sweet and offered you a bath. A bath is cute and domestic, which is so unlike Tom. He would have never offered something like that before, especially with no one home. He should’ve just kicked you out.

What’s different?

“Oh,” You look at the floor in pretend disappointment. Just to note, you’re still completely naked, standing in front of his bathroom door. You’re so glad he has his own bathroom. “You don’t want to join me?”

Tom blinks, wondering if you’re being serious. He never thought you out of all people would want to have sex in the bathtub, let alone with him. He swallows, trying to keep his cool.

“Yeah, obviously, I was just letting you get a headstart,” Tom rapidly removes his boxers while you strut into the bathroom, shaking your ass in your trail. Streaks of curses leave his mouth while he slams the door closed, not forgetting to lock it.

For the record, the rumor was true; Tom did have a list. It was in a spot he knew no one would check; his textbooks in his desk drawer. A single sheet of paper that has a list of the girls he’s been with and the ones he wants to be with. It’s crazy how such a rumor was developed when no one knew about the list except for himself.

Yes, it was listed in order and he reorganized it whenever he needed to. That’s what erasers are for. He writes it in pencil because nothing is set in stone. It’s honestly hard for him to remember who’s in his top five right now. Yeah, Tom sounds like a complete douchebag, but he didn’t really care.

Tom said that your name would be “near the top” if he had a list. What a liar he is.

Ever since he met you, you’ve been the first on his list. You’re the only name that hasn’t been erased since he wrote it his junior year. Also, you’re the only person who has a little note on the side of her name:

1. Y/N Y/L/N -The one

Tom had a feeling that he won’t have to write any names down, or even need the paper anymore. Even if he never had a list to begin with, he would have never needed one to remember you.

—

i hope you guys liked this i worked hard!! likes, comments, and reblogs are all appreciated <3

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