#it happened. believe it or not that's how it went

[rafes-slut]

Hi can you do a Rafe smut where him and reader “hate” each other and they are at a party. While reader gets a drink a random dude starts harassing/annoying her and he does something that makes her punch him in the face. She runs away while the dude chases after her and she spots rafe. She hides behind him and he’s like “wtf” but then sees the guy coming behind you. Then you tell him what happened and rafe beats the shit out of the guy and takes you upstairs for some sexy time😫🙏🏻

God i love this one

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x You

Warnings: Smut (18+), rough sex, possessiveness, violence, jealousy, language, choking, spanking, unprotected sex, toxic dynamics.

You wanted to believe you hated Rafe Cameron. You really did. It was easier that way—easier to pretend like you didn’t feel his eyes on you every time you walked into a room, easier to act like you didn’t think about how good he looked with his sleeves rolled up and his jaw clenched. Easier to ignore the way your body reacted when he got close, the heat that burned beneath your skin when he muttered something cocky under his breath just to piss you off.

And you were sure he felt the same way. That was how it always had been between you two—pure hatred, always at each other's throats. You swore you could kill each other any second.

But tonight, everything changed.

The music was loud, the party buzzing with energy as Kooks filled the massive beach house. You were perched at the bar, sipping your drink, already regretting coming. The only reason you stayed was because you refused to let Rafe’s presence ruin your night. You weren’t about to leave just because he was here, brooding in the corner like he always did, looking too damn good for his own good.

Then, the creep showed up.

You hadn’t even noticed him at first, too busy nursing your drink and trying to drown out the annoyingly catchy music blasting through the speakers. But the second he sidled up next to you, his cologne too strong and his grin too cocky, you knew he was trouble.

“Didn’t take you for a girl who comes to parties alone,” he mused, eyes dragging over your body in a way that made your skin crawl.

“I didn’t,” you muttered, hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave like he thought it was seductive. “Bet you just haven’t found the right company yet.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not interested.”

But he didn’t back off. If anything, he got bolder, his hand brushing against your arm as he chuckled like you had just played hard to get. “Aw, don’t be like that, baby—”

Before he could finish, his hand landed on your ass, a firm slap that sent a wave of disgust rippling through you. Your entire body tensed, blood boiling as you turned and smacked him across the face without thinking.

The crack echoed over the music, and for a split second, everything went still.

Then, his expression darkened. His jaw clenched, and his eyes flashed with something dangerous.

“Bitch,” he spat, taking a step toward you.

Panic flared in your chest. You knew that look. He was pissed, and you had no intention of sticking around to see what he’d do next. Your heart pounded as you spun on your heel, pushing through the crowd.

But he followed.

You could hear him behind you, his footsteps heavy, his breathing ragged with fury. Your stomach twisted, your skin crawling as you shoved past drunken partygoers, desperate for an escape.

Then, you saw him.

Rafe.

He was standing near the stairs, a beer in his hand, mid-conversation with Kelce. The second your eyes landed on him, you didn’t think—you just moved.

Before you knew it, you were behind him, gripping the back of his shirt like your life depended on it.

“What the fuck—?” Rafe turned, his brows furrowing as he looked down at you in confusion. “What are you—”

But then, his gaze lifted, and he saw him. The guy.

And Rafe immediately understood.

His whole demeanor shifted. His grip tightened around the beer bottle, his entire body going rigid. “He bothering you?” His voice was low, dangerous.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “He—he touched me.”

That was all it took.

Rafe saw red.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask for details. He just acted.

The bottle dropped from his hand, shattering on the floor as he launched himself at the guy. It happened so fast that you barely had time to react. One second, Rafe was standing in front of you. The next, he was on him, fist colliding with his jaw so hard that you swore you felt it.

People gasped, parting like the Red Sea as Rafe unleashed hell. His knuckles cracked against the guy’s face over and over, blood smearing across his skin.

No one tried to stop him. They knew better.

By the time Rafe was done, the guy was out cold on the floor.

His chest heaved as he straightened, fists clenched, rage still burning in his blue eyes as he turned back to you. “You okay?”

You were staring.

You couldn’t help it.

He looked—fuck.

Blood speckled his sharp jaw, his hair disheveled from the fight. His hands were bruised, knuckles split, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

And you wanted him.

Bad.

You didn’t even think. You just grabbed his wrist, tugging him through the party without a word.

“Where the fuck are we going?” he grumbled, confused.

You ignored him, pushing open the first empty door you found, pulling him inside, and slamming it shut behind you.

The second the door slammed shut, you barely had time to process what was happening before Rafe was on you. His hands were everywhere—gripping, grabbing, pulling—like he needed to touch every inch of you at once. His mouth was hot and demanding against yours, tongue sliding between your lips in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. You gasped when his hands found your thighs, gripping them rough enough to bruise as he hoisted you up.

Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, and your back slammed against the door, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“You like that, huh?” Rafe growled against your mouth, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip before biting down, just enough to sting. “Watching me fuck that guy up got you all wet?”

Your only answer was a moan as he rolled his hips into yours, pressing his hard cock right against your aching core. You were still wearing your dress, but it did nothing to dull the sensation of how thick he felt against you, how ready he was to wreck you.

“Fuck, I knew you were dirty,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your thighs, shoving your dress higher. “Knew you needed someone to put you in your fucking place.”

Before you could snap back, his fingers found your panties, pushing them aside. His thumb swiped through your wetness, and he let out a deep groan when he felt how soaked you were.

“Jesus. You’re dripping, baby,” he mocked, voice dark with amusement. “Bet you’d let me fuck you right here against this door, huh? Let everyone at this party hear how desperate you are.”

The thought sent a rush of heat through your body. You wanted to tell him to shut up, to slap that cocky smirk off his face, but when his fingers pushed inside you—two at once, stretching you—the only sound you made was a pathetic whimper.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head hitting the door.

Rafe pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had your thighs shaking around his waist. He was teasing you, taking his time, knowing damn well how much you needed him.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he taunted, his teeth grazing your jaw as he kissed down your neck. “Look at you—so fucking needy.”

You whined, bucking your hips against his hand, but he pulled his fingers away. Your whimper of protest was swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you hard, reaching down to undo his belt.

Then, he flipped you around.

Your hands caught against the door to keep yourself upright, but Rafe didn’t give you a second to process before he was yanking your dress up and dragging your soaked panties down your thighs.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” he growled, his hands gripping your ass, spreading you open. “Make sure you never look at another guy again.”

You barely had time to breathe before he was shoving his cock inside you, hard and deep, stretching you to the point of pain. You let out a strangled moan, your fingers digging into the door as he bottomed out in one rough thrust.

“Fuck—”

Rafe groaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder for a second as he gritted his teeth. “So fucking tight.”

He didn’t start slow. He didn’t give you time to adjust. He just started moving, fucking into you with deep, bruising thrusts that had you crying out.

His grip was rough, fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock, forcing you to take every inch. You could hear the wet, filthy sounds of him slamming into you, feel the way your walls clenched around him, your body struggling to keep up with how hard he was fucking you.

“This what you needed?” he gritted out, one hand wrapping around your throat from behind, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges. “Needed me to fuck you like a slut?”

You moaned in response, too far gone to be embarrassed about how wrecked you already sounded.

“Say it,” he demanded, tightening his grip.

You gasped, your head spinning. “Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He slowed his thrusts, just enough to drive you crazy, just enough to make you squirm.

“Yes, I needed it,” you admitted, voice barely a whisper.

He groaned, his free hand coming down on your ass with a sharp slap that made you jolt. “That’s right,” he muttered, snapping his hips forward again. “Bet you’ve been waiting for this. Fucking brat.”

You felt yourself getting close embarrassingly fast. The way he fucked you—deep and rough, owning every inch of you—had your entire body burning with pleasure. His grip was relentless, fingers pressing into your skin like he wanted to leave marks, like he wanted you to remember this every time you moved.

“You gonna come already?” Rafe taunted, noticing how tight you were squeezing him. “Jesus, you’re fucking obsessed with me.”

“Shut up,” you panted, nails scratching against the door.

He chuckled darkly, hand wrapping in your hair, yanking your head back so his lips were right against your ear. “Make me.”

And then he fucked you even harder.

Your orgasm slammed into you so fast and so intense that your knees buckled, but Rafe didn’t let up. He kept fucking you through it, kept fucking you past it, his pace ruthless as he chased his own release.

Your overstimulated whimpers only spurred him on. His thrusts got rougher, more desperate, his groans turning into curses. “Fuck—”

Then, with one final thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could go, his entire body going tense as he came inside you, filling you up with a low, guttural groan.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Your body was limp against the door, your breathing ragged, and Rafe was still pressed against you, his forehead against your shoulder, both of you spent.

Finally, he let out a breath, his grip loosening. “Jesus Christ.”

You swallowed hard, still trembling. You felt him pull out, his hands gently dragging your dress back down, as if he hadn’t just fucked you senseless against a door at a party.

When you finally turned to face him, his blue eyes were dark, filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

Then, that cocky smirk returned.

“Still think you hate me?”

[nosyrobin]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪 𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 + 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑿 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹!𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑫!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹⋆. 𐙚 ˚

pt.1 || pt.2

☆〜 what a smart child, a powerful child that is a god in their own world. The power to shift through realities, the power to make things shift to your own amusement. But what happens when this simple child, this child in elementary, shifts into a universe of violence, landing onto a soft bouncy house.

Giggling wildly, they hop off the bouncy house, ignoring the shock looks of parents as some kids at this assumed birthday party had their jaw drops. But this child didn’t care but to explore! And explore they did, they found themself in a place called bludhaven. A man with some kinda suit with black and blue appears the next minute behind the child.

“Hey kiddo, where’s your mommy or daddy?” His tone soft and gentle. Turning around, the child shrugs, use to them being randomly teleported due to their powers. “Don’t know. I want ice cream!” They point to an ice cream truck, accidentally changing the topic as they rush at it. Nightwing could only panic as he rushes over to this hyper child.

“Hey! Look both ways before crossing!” After the small heart attack, nightwing lets the child get on his back. Going to the police station to see if there is any records about this random child that had randomly made the one scoop ice cream into a three scoop.

After seeing there were no records of the child’s parents, or at least the child at most. Nightwing didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to give the small child up to foster care. Foster care isn’t the best option at times.

So….he took care of you. He made sure you didn’t know who he was. Dick started to take care of you like a father and an older brother. Not bothering to help you learn things you didn’t know before. But it was only for so long til he could keep the secret before you had found his suit in his closet. “Mr. Grayson!” Dick turns around with a smile. “Yes kid—” immediately drops the pan that held pancakes as you held the Nightwing costume.

“Hero! You’re a herooo!!” Your eyes widen as you put it down gently with small pats. “I wanna be one!” Dick puts the pancakes up with the pan and picks you up, shaking his head no with worry. “No! No! You are too young, and you still are in 3rd grade. You can’t just be a superhero” you pouted as you pointed to the pancakes which transformed into blueberry waffles.

“But.. I wanna help people.” Dick has learned about your powers since you turned broccoli into a chicken sandwich. “Yeah… but it’s not worth it. Believe me.” Haley barks at her owner, staring at him with those big eyes of hers. “But Haley goes out on missions with you!” Dick’s eyes widen as he sits you down.

“You know I went on missions!?” Pouting, you huff. “How can Haley go but I can’t?” “Cause you have school!” “Not on weekends!” The argument you both had left some heavy air for a few days. Mostly cause of your stubbornness, you held a grudge, and when you hold a grudge. You hold one. You reminded him of his younger brother, Damian.

Dick tried everything to get you to forgive him, as such as; ice cream, plushies, movie tickets to the new paw patrol movie. Hell even the newish SpongeBob movie.

Okay now you did talk to him and cling to him like you usual do. But that ended right after the movie ended. Then finally, you’ve won as dick had Bruce clutch in and made you a suit. The suit was very cute with pastel colors due to your love with sparkles. You even named yourself the “Sparkler”, but who knows how long that name will last when you get older.

Yes, dick intends to take care of you to the point you grow old enough to move out. He’s practically the only family you got… in his point of view not knowing you have an actual family out of this reality. But he feels like he actually has his own family, sure he has one with the batfamily. But with you around and your childish antics, he felt.. calm.

As if you were his charge. And he loves it. It’s been months, almost a year since you’ve been here and he would go to any rehearsal you have if you join anything. Hell, he was so happy to hear you call him dad at least. Not dick, not Mr. Grayson.

But dad.

You both already created such a family bond that Bruce even sees you as his grandchild. And his brothers see you as their [nephew/neice]. Damian even gifted you a tiny sword, and dick snatched it away the minute you started swinging it around.

But eitherless, you had fun with your parental figure! That was still a sparkly patrol arrived out of no where.

You were coloring as Dick was in the kitchen cooking your favorite meal, you turned at the portal, not interested as you only rolled your eyes. It was just some portal that would appear when your time limit in a reality has passed. But you loved staying here! Dick was better than your own parents at your own world… but you guess the portal said otherwise.

The portal made a weird noise, like it was growling as it started to suck in everything in your room. Eyes widen, you get up, ready to run. “Dad! Dad!” You yelled for him, the portal started to suck in the plushies like a black hole. You dodged some things that could’ve hit your head.

You were so close to the door! But then the portal got angry, starting to gulp in everything. Dick, who heard a loud scream, dropped whatever he had in his hands when he heared your scream. Haley was ready too as she followed her owner to the room of his beloved child.

But he was too late.. the room was empty of everything. Including you. The blue eyed male dropped to the floor, Haley whines, trying to sniff around. You were gone, your scream echoed in his head.

He was late… late.. late….

Late……

He felt broken. He couldn’t save you from whatever happened…..

Where did you even go?

☆

Mark was flying through the sky, patrolling the city bored as he frowned. “God this is more boring than usual…” then he gets hit with a flying child that fell from a sparkly portal.

Mark grunts as he held you tight to his body, not wasting time or fly to a safe spot. He would’ve thought you would be shaking, scared, crying. You looked no older than 8 or at least 9, yet you had such a soft look on your face along with nonchalance.

“Well that was fun!” You exclaimed as you jumped excitedly. “H-how..? What the…. Are you okay?!” Thoughts was running through his head, a kid, much younger than his half brother was standing infront of him, dusting themself off as if they weren’t close to even dying!? “Oh me? I’m fine! But i need to back to my dad.” You looked around the place that you landed by with this hero.

Seeing no sparkly portal, you frowned. You felt sad, usually you didn’t feel this sad when going through another universe or whatever they are called. Mark looks at you confused, “Hey uhm, buddy? What are you looking for?” He questions as he tries to gentle his voice. “Portal with sparkles! It’s my way back to my dad!” You grabbed mark’s hand. “You’ll help me right?”

Mark didn’t know if he wanted to, he should! Of course he should! But the way you aren’t worried about falling from the sky, yapping about some kind of sparkly portal, and you’re a child. This could ring into trouble. But you look so innocent, and scared.

“Listen, what does your dad look like?”

“Well he has black hair, blue eyes, and he has dimples.” You pointed to both side of your cheeks to make it seem like dimples. Doing so, mark almost laughed at how adorable you seemed. Okay maybe you weren’t trouble, but you definitely were lost.

“Alright, let’s find your dad.” He picks you up, having you smile thinking that maybe he could get someone to have you into the place you were in before…

TO BE CONTINUED

[alfvaen]

"Lady Kistrelle?"

Ten years now and she still wasn't quite used to answering to that name. Nobody dared object to any delay in response, though, for fear of offending her. "Yes?" she said after a proper delay, looking up from the book in front of her.

Not one of the royals--she was long past the point of having to deal with one of their servants. Not a priest. She spotted the sword at his waist, and realized it must be the new guard lieutenant. Diffident and cautious in her presence, as only made sense given what had happened to his two predecessors.

"We picked up a woman last night. She wishes to speak to you."

Some criminal who wanted the enlist the help of the Royal Seer? Everybody believed she knew all and saw all, so either they were innocent or they were trying to call her bluff. But after all this time, she couldn't afford to let anyone know how much of a fake she actually was. Unfortunately, her reputation for omniscience also meant she couldn't ask a lot of questions. She'd have to lead him into volunteering information. "And you decided to come to me because…"

He shuffled his feet. "At first she was claiming to be you, so we brought her in for impersonation. Then she asked us to send you a message, just a name."

Her spine turned to ice. This was bad. "And that name was?"

"Flandine."

Brief surge of relief--it wasn't her own name, before she'd become Lady Kistrelle. But then she realized it was worse. She let out a sigh, as if put upon, and said, "Fine, I'll speak to her. Best to bring her here." Because this conversation was not one she'd want to be overheard.

She sat staring at the book for a long time after the lieutenant left. She hadn't meant it to go this far. She'd just been trying to save her life.

She'd thought she was done for when she'd been found rooting around in the abandoned house. Some mage or scholar or something had been living there, and she had just enough talent to make her way through their wards and traps to get at the goodies inside. So when a messenger came through the unguarded front door, she'd expected him to run for the guards. But apparently the old seer, Tarim, whose house it had been had had an apprentice, a blonde woman who went by Kistrelle, and she'd been seen rarely enough that nobody knew that it wasn't her. So she'd bluffed. And she'd been taken to talk to the King, and she'd kept bluffing. And between bluffing, manipulation, thorough perusal of the old seer's library, and sheer luck, she'd managed to convince everyone in the kingdom that she was actually the seer's rightful heir.

She'd never known what happened to the real Kistrelle, though. Though she had run across a note from Tarim, from when he'd taken her on, how he'd convinced her to change her name to "Kistrelle" in the first place. Because "Flandine" was a commoner's name, and not suitable at all.

And now Flandine was back. And clearly quite aware that the current Lady Kistrelle was at the very least an imposter, if not an outright charlatan (which she was, of course). There was every chance that if she told the guard captain (a witless fool, perfect for her needs, as opposed to the much more perspicacious lieutenants she'd had to get rid of) that Flandine was dangerous and should be killed right away, or locked up with her tongue cut out, then he'd do it.

But she wanted to know. Why had Flandine left, without telling anyone? What had happened to Tarim? Why was she back now? Surreptitious acquisition of knowledge had been a favourite pastime before she'd ended up in this charade, and it didn't hurt her reputation for omniscience either. Flandine was dangerous to her, but perhaps they could come to some sort of an accommodation. Perhaps she should take on an apprentice.

You are the most influential and powerful person in the kingdom. Even the royals walk eggshells around you at risk of offending you. The thing is, you have no idea what you’re doing or how it has gotten to this point, but you’re in way too deep now and you have to keep the lie going to survive.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Undercover Love

A/N: sorry Mary that it took so long but I finally made it, I hope you like it

Summary: you and ace are inseparable and marco and thatch realize that there is more going on between you two though they can't believe how oblivious you two seem to be about it

Warnings: a silly fluffy story

Characters: Ace x F!Reader, Marco, Thatch

Ace was sitting cross-legged beside you, his eyes flickering to the horizon as you buried yourself in a book, one of the many novels you'd brought along during your travels. The two of you often found these moments together—quiet but meaningful, the kind where words weren’t always necessary.

He leaned over and lightly nudged your arm. "Hey, you missed a page."

You blinked and looked down, realizing he was right. "I swear, you’ve got a sixth sense for these things," you muttered, grinning and shaking your head.

"Maybe," Ace said, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. "I just pay attention."

You went back to reading, but a few minutes later, a small gust of wind blew a stray strand of hair in your face. You swiped it out of the way with a frustrated huff, but before you could get back into your book, Ace was already there, plucking the hair from your face with ease and then put his hat on you. You glanced at him and caught a glint in his eyes, something mischievous, yet gentle.

"Always looking out for me, huh?" you teased, but you didn’t mind. You were used to this.

"Always, besides my hat looks good on you" he replied without missing a beat, his voice low and warm.

Ace laned back, letting his head rest in your lap. It was a familiar feeling, his warmth against you, the softness of his hair beneath your hand. You absently ran your fingers through his hair as you continued reading, and you realized that in moments like these, words felt unnecessary. The quietness between you was comfortable, more than any loud confession could convey.

Not far from you, Marco and Thatch were watching the scene unfold with knowing glances. It was clear to them what was happening. Marco had once casually remarked, "You two are like an old married couple," and while you had laughed it off at the time, there was truth in his words.

Thatch, had even tried teasing you both, but Ace was too oblivious to pick up on it. You, too, seemed unaware of how others saw the quiet closeness between you and Ace. You both laughed, fought, and drank together, never seeing the way the crew looked at the bond you shared.

Ace would often poke fun at you, calling you out for being so serious with your books, but that was just his way of showing affection. You’d shoot back with playful jabs, calling him an "immature lighter," and somehow, that made the bond feel even more familiar.

The meals were the same. You’d pass each other bites of food without thinking twice, sharing everything from a chunk of meat to the last piece of fruit you’d managed to snag. When one of you found something delicious, the other was right there, eagerly taking a taste. It was a give-and-take that had become second nature. You fed each other, laughed, and even bickered about who had the better choice of snacks.

Even when Ace would casually remove objects in your way when you were - once again - buried deep in a book you didn't need to acknowledge it. It was just Ace being Ace, looking out for you in his own way. And you didn’t mind. You were used to it, almost as though you didn't even notice how often it happened.

The Whitebeard Pirates watched all of this unfold - the deeper feelings growing between you was something the crew saw clearly. They’d exchange knowing looks when you two were together, sharing silent smiles over the quiet connection they saw blooming between you and Ace. But you and Ace were wrapped up in your own little bubble, caught in a routine that felt natural and right.

When the crew started teasing Ace about you, calling him out on his "sweetheart" moments or making sly remarks about your "togetherness," he’d scratch his head and offer his usual cheeky grin.

"Stop it," Ace would mutter, shooting the crew a half-embarrassed, half-challenging look. "We’re just looking out for each other."

And you’d back him up, saying something similar.

The Moby Dick had just docked on a new island, and you and Ace walked side by side down the gangplank, both excited for a change of scenery. The bustling atmosphere of the market greeted you immediately, with vendors shouting their wares and colorful stalls lining the streets. The salty air mixed with the smells of food, fried fish, roasted meat, and sweet desserts.

As you wandered, you couldn’t help but point out things you found interesting, a new fruit you wanted to try or a beautiful piece of clothing that caught your eye. Each time, you’d grab Ace’s arm to guide him over, his larger, muscular frame easily following you as you tugged him along. It had become a sort of unspoken habit between you two, an easy way to share the things that sparked your interest.

But it wasn’t just you pulling Ace around. Every now and then, Ace would grab your hand without thinking, drawn by the enticing smell of something delicious. You’d laugh at how quickly he could get distracted by food, his hand slipping into yours as he led you to a food stall. It was such a natural, effortless thing. No hesitation, no questions asked.

As you made your way through the market, Marco and Thatch were trailing behind, watching the two of you with bemused expressions. They exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with unspoken understanding.

"I don’t get it," Thatch muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "How can they not see it?"

Marco, ever the calm and collected one, just sighed. "Maybe it's just how they are. I don’t know how much more obvious we can make it for them."

"You think they’ll ever figure it out?" Thatch asked, a teasing grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Marco just smirked. "Who knows? But right now I doubt it"

Later that evening, the Moby Dick rocked gently in the harbor as the crew gathered for a casual dinner. The mood was lighthearted, everyone still buzzing from the excitement of exploring the island. You and Ace were once again side by side, as always, laughing, sharing stories, and just enjoying the company of each other.

But that didn't go unnoticed by Marco and Thatch. They casually approached you both, their expressions a mixture of patience and mild amusement.

"You two," Marco began, his arms crossed as he looked between you and Ace, "have been attached at the hip all day. You've barely left each other's side. And honestly, this 'just friends' act is getting a little old."

Ace glanced at you and chuckled, oblivious. "What, we’re just hanging out. What’s the big deal?"

Thatch grinned and leaned in, pointing between you and Ace. "The thing is, you two spend way too much time together. It’s like you're... I don't know, cozy together. You walk around with your arms linked, feeding each other food, sharing quiet moments—hell, you even lay your head in her lap, Ace!" His grin widened as he observed the subtle look that passed between you and Ace, both of you completely unbothered by the comment.

You blinked, furrowing your brows. "What’s wrong with that? I can’t help it if Ace is always hungry and needs someone to share food with."

"That’s not what we mean," Marco added with a sigh, rubbing his temples. "We’re saying that you two are, well, really close. More than friends. Like, ridiculously close."

You and Ace exchanged another confused glance.

"I don’t get it," Ace said, scratching the back of his head. "We’ve always been this way. What’s wrong with hanging out together?"

Thatch leaned back dramatically. "It’s not about hanging out, Ace. It’s about... being together, together. You know, in that way."

You stared at them, still not catching on. "You mean... like, how we’ve always been? Why does it need a label?"

Marco facepalmed, clearly struggling to find the words. "What we’re trying to say is, you two should really be together, in a... you know, romantic way."

You blinked again, your mind still in denial. "But we are together, in a way. We’re best friends. That’s... that’s enough."

Ace gave a small nod. "Yeah, exactly. We’ve always been this close. No need to overthink it, right?"

The tension in the air was palpable, and it was clear that Marco and Thatch were beyond frustrated. Thatch leaned back and crossed his arms, giving up. "You two are hopeless."

Nearby, Whitebeard, who had been listening to the conversation, let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "You two are truly something else," he boomed, his deep laugh echoing through the ship. "I can't believe you’re this thick-headed."

You and Ace both looked over at him, still not quite getting the joke. "What do you mean, Pops?" you asked.

Whitebeard chuckled and just shook his head. "No one’s ever been this clueless about that before."

It was at that moment, as you both stood there, still completely confused, that Ace suddenly stood up with a grin, clearly eager to move past the conversation. "Well, I don’t know about all this, but I’m in the mood for a dance."

You blinked, surprised by his sudden suggestion. "A dance? Now?"

"Why not?" Ace grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let’s make the night a little more fun."

You hesitated for just a moment before a grin tugged at your lips. "Alright, I’m game," you said, not entirely sure where this was going but willing to play along.

The two of you found a clear space on the deck, and Ace, in his usual carefree manner, pulled you into a loose, playful dance. It wasn’t anything formal - just a bit of laughter, spinning, stepping in rhythm to the sounds of the crew's ongoing chatter. You both were far from professional dancers, but the simplicity of it felt easy, like everything else between you two. You would rest your head on his shoulder or he would pick you up and spin making you laugh even harder.

As you spun in Ace’s arms, you caught a glimpse of Marco and Thatch in the corner of your eye. They exchanged knowing glances, clearly still in disbelief at how long it was taking for you two to figure things out.

"You know," Thatch said, his voice loud enough for both of you to hear, "this is almost exactly how a couple dances."

Marco raised an eyebrow. "And they still don’t get it."

Whitebeard, still chuckling at the sight of you two, added, "Maybe this will be the night they finally wake up."

Ace laughed as he spun you one more time before pulling you back into his arms. "I still don’t know why they're so worked up about us," he muttered, his grin wide. "But I’m having fun."

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart light and full of warmth. "Me too."

The dance with Ace had quickly turned into something more energetic than you expected. His infectious enthusiasm had you both laughing and spinning around the deck, your feet stumbling over one another more than once. You hadn’t realized just how out of breath you’d gotten until Ace finally slowed down, his arms holding you steady as you both tried to catch your breath, grinning at each other like you’d just won a battle.

"You’re gonna wear me out at this rate," you teased, your breath still coming in ragged bursts, your forehead resting against his chest as you leaned into him for support. The steady beat of his heart was like a calming rhythm against your cheek.

Ace laughed softly, a little winded himself, but clearly enjoying every moment of it. "Hey, if you can’t keep up, that’s on you," he joked, wrapping his arms around you loosely, his cheek resting atop your head for a moment.

Despite the laughter and the warmth between the two of you, Marco, Thatch, and Whitebeard stood off to the side, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, clearly in disbelief. Marco’s face was a picture of exasperation as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"They’re really not getting it, are they?" Marco muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "How can they not see it?"

Thatch chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ship’s railing. "This is too good. We’ve practically had to spell it out for them, and they’re still acting like nothing’s happening."

Whitebeard, standing nearby, just laughed heartily, shaking his head at the young pair.

"You’d think after everything today—hell, the way they’ve been acting all this time—they’d get it," Marco said, still stunned. "But no, they’re just... friends. Sure."

Meanwhile, you and Ace were still wrapped up in the warmth of the moment, his arms around your waist and yours around his neck, enjoying the simplicity of each other's company.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at Ace with a smile, and he met your gaze with his signature grin, still blissfully unaware of the whispers around you. "Well, that was fun," you said, your voice still light from laughter. "I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in ages."

"Same here," Ace agreed, before you both let go of each other. He gave you a playful nudge, then glanced back at the others. "You guys should join in next time, you know? No need to stand around looking all serious."

The next few days passed in the same easygoing rhythm. You and Ace continued to spend nearly every waking moment together, and it was clear to everyone around you just how close you two were. Whether it was sharing meals, joking around, or just enjoying each other's presence, it seemed natural—so natural, in fact, that neither of you thought much of it.

You’d walk together, arms linked, holding hands, or sometimes Ace would casually slide his arm around your waist as you both strolled across the ship, laughing at something ridiculous that had happened. Every time Ace was hungry, you’d end up sharing your food with him, like it was second nature. Even when he’d lay down on the deck to rest, his head would always end up in your lap, both of you lost in the peace of the moment. It was nothing out of the ordinary, at least, not to you.

However, as the days wore on, it became more and more difficult for the rest of the crew to ignore just how cozy you two were. Every little gesture, every shared look, every soft laugh - it was all starting to make a lot of sense to the others.

One day, as you and Ace walked across the deck, lost in a conversation about something trivial, Thatch couldn’t help but watch. He exchanged a glance with Marco, who had a very similar look of resignation on his face.

“Alright,” Thatch muttered under his breath, nudging Marco. “I think I finally get it.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

“Yeah,” Thatch said, leaning in closer as the two of you passed by, still oblivious to what was going on. "They’re not just clueless. They’re extremely innocent and on top of that plain dumb."

Marco sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re acting like a couple - but -" he paused, as if trying to process the ridiculousness of it, "they genuinely have no idea."

Thatch grinned. "Every single thing they do together screams couple. And still, they look at us like we’re speaking some foreign language when we try to explain it."

Marco, too, found it hard not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "You’d think after all this time, they’d at least get the hint."

It had been days of watching you and Ace and Marco and Thatch couldn’t take it any longer.

One evening, after dinner, Marco casually called you over to sit with him and Thatch. You and Ace were both in the middle of chatting, but after a quick exchange of glances, you found yourselves being pulled toward the two men who were clearly on a mission to finally make you understand what had been going on.

Marco and Thatch sat across from you and Ace, looking like two men about to embark on the most difficult mission of their lives. Marco rubbed his temples, while Thatch was already looking like he regretted getting involved.

“Alright, listen,” Thatch started, leaning forward like he was about to deliver top-secret information. “We need to have a serious talk.”

Ace, lounging lazily with his arms crossed, blinked at them. “About what?”

“You two,” Marco said, pointing between you and Ace like it should be obvious.

You and Ace exchanged a glance before you shrugged. “What about us?”

Thatch groaned. “Okay, how do we put this… You do everything a couple does. You drink together, laugh together, share food—”

Ace nodded. “Yeah, so?”

Marco threw up his hands. “You sleep in each other’s beds!”

You tilted your head. “It’s comfortable.”

Thatch’s eye twitched. “Ace carries you around when you’re tired.”

“Well, walking is exhausting,” you replied.

Marco pointed a finger at Ace. “And you tuck her in when she falls asleep on the deck!”

Ace huffed. “I don’t just leave her lying around like some abandoned crate!”

Marco leaned forward, trying to get through to you like a teacher dealing with the class clown. “And doesn’t that mean something to you?”

You and Ace exchanged another glance before looking back at them. “Uh… yeah?” Ace said slowly.

Thatch perked up, hopeful. “Oh? It does?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “It means we’re really close friends.”

Marco made a sound so strangled it could’ve come from an injured seagull. “No! Not just friends! You’re together-together!”

You frowned. “We are together. I mean, we’re here right now, sitting together.”

Thatch looked at Marco. “I swear, they’re killing me.”

Marco took a deep breath, then leaned forward with the patience of a saint trying to explain something to a particularly stubborn toddler. “Okay. Listen closely.”

You and Ace nodded attentively.

“When you see each other,” Marco continued, speaking slowly, “do you feel warm inside? Maybe like… butterflies?”

You and Ace exchanged another glance.

“…From drinking?” Ace asked.

Thatch smacked the table. “NO! From love!”

You tapped your chin. “Hmm. I mean, I do like Ace.”

Ace grinned. “Yeah, and I like her.”

Thatch and Marco both perked up. “Okay, great! Now—”

“But, like, friend like,” you added.

Ace nodded sagely. “Yeah. Deep, deep friendship.”

Marco dragged a hand down his face. “You’re messing with us, right? You have to be messing with us.”

Thatch was now pacing, waving his hands around like a madman. “Okay, fine! Let’s break this down further. When you touch, like when you hold hands, doesn’t it feel… different?”

Ace thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I mean, her hands are pretty soft.”

You nodded. “His are warm.”

Thatch’s eye twitched again. “No. No. Not physically! I mean, do you feel a spark? A rush? Maybe a deep longing?”

Ace frowned. “A deep longing?”

You blinked. “For what?”

Marco groaned into his hands. “To be together!”

Ace and you exchanged yet another confused glance before turning back to them. “But we are together,” you said slowly.

Thatch threw his hands up. “As a COUPLE!”

There was a pause. You and Ace both sat there, staring at them with blank expressions, as if they had just tried to explain rocket science to two particularly dense sea kings.

Then, Ace nodded thoughtfully. “Ohhh… I get it.”

Thatch and Marco sighed in relief.

“You think we should be a couple,” Ace continued.

“Yes!” Marco and Thatch shouted in unison.

Ace scratched his chin. “Hmm. Should we?” He turned to you, eyes casual. “Wanna kiss?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug. “Why not?”

Marco's jaw literally dropped, and Thatch choked on his drink, sputtering in shock. Whitebeard, who usually held the wisdom of the seas and the authority of a captain, was now wide-eyed, blinking in utter surprise. They all stared at you, processing what had just happened.

"Did... did you just say... 'Why not'?" Marco managed to ask, his voice half disbelieving, half amused.

"Yeah," you replied, still as casual as ever, "I mean, it seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it?"

Ace, looking just as unfazed as you, gave a relaxed grin and you both leaned in and kissed each other, as if this was the most natural progression in the world.

“OH MY GOD, STOP!” Marco shouted.

Thatch practically leapt out of his seat. “That is not how this works!”

Whitebeard, who had been listening from his throne, suddenly let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Gurarara… I have never seen two people be so dense.” Marco and Thatch nodded vigorously.

And then it happened.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laughter bubbled up from deep within you and you burst into giggles. It was so sudden, so unexpected, that even Ace shot you a confused look.

"Hey! Stop!" Ace said, trying to keep his own grin hidden, though it was clear he was fighting a smile. "You're ruining the act!"

But it was too much. The act, the drama, the whole charade - you couldn't keep up with it any longer. "I’m sorry!" you managed between laughs, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I just couldn't keep it up anymore."

“…Wait,” Marco said slowly.

Thatch narrowed his eyes. “Are you two…?”

Ace grinned. “Oh yeah. We’ve been together this whole time. Of course we knew what was going on between us. We just thought it was funny watching you guys try to explain it to us.”

"You guys... you guys really thought we didn’t know?" You leaned against Ace’s shoulder, still chuckling. "We’ve been together together the whole time. The whole time, guys."

Silence.

“You little shits.”

Thatch looked personally betrayed, and Marco just sighed, leaning back as if he had aged ten years in five minutes. Whitebeard, who had been listening nearby, suddenly let out a deep, booming laugh, shaking his head.

“I should’ve known,” he chuckled. “Only Ace would turn his love life into a prank on the crew.”

Marco stared at you both in disbelief. “You......You mean to tell me we just wasted half an hour-”

“More like weeks,” Whitebeard added with a chuckle.

Thatch collapsed onto the table, face down. “I hate you both.”

Ace laughed, throwing an arm around you as you grinned. “Aw, come on. You gotta admit - it was really funny.”

Marco just stared at the two of you, shaking his head in disbelief. "I... I honestly can’t believe this," he muttered. "You two were playing us this whole time?"

You simply shrugged with a smirk. "Yeah, you were so cute trying to explain it, though. We just couldn’t resist."

Ace laughed again, his arm still around you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Guess we got a bit of a kick out of watching you all scramble."

Marco groaned, standing up. “I need a damn drink.”

Thatch pointed at you both. “You’re menaces.”

You looked at Ace, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You intertwined your fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours nefore leaning in again to kiss him.

Whitebeard was still laughing, Thatch and Marco still muttering about you two being a pain in the ass as you and Ace simply leaned into each other, fully enjoying the absolute chaos you had caused.

[samsm2mstories]

Wtf happened?

Where am I? Fuckkkk that feels amazingly GOOOD!

I couldn't believe what had just happened. One minute, I was having deep thoughts about becoming someone else, and suddenly, I woke up in the body of my best mate getting sucked off.

I can't help but moan more as this other guy WAIT MY COUSIN! sucking me off! This is so FUCKED but I can't help it but moan more as he was an expert!

This body feels amazing, so what is gay and like guys, I don't have to worry about pregnancies, periods, and the typical girlfriend stuff. I love this body of mine now, and my cousin is pretty hot.

I felt it was edging and suddenly!

FUCKKK TAKE IT JAKEY!!!

Ropes of my new loads went deep inside of Jake's throat as he sucked me completely dry. He looked pretty impressed as he commented how well I did for the first time, considering I agreed to experience this once as my girlfriend was useless.

I told him that we are definitely doing this on a daily basis, and he's mine to enjoy now on.

[lxzy-bxby]

Baking into Babymaking

MDNI NSFW 18+ SMUT shoo byebye xoxo

Husband!Leon × Fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt to bake cake for your kid's birthday peacefully but your husband can't leave you alone. WC: 4,435 CW: Smut with very little plot, creampie&sexual puns about it, unprotected p-in-v, fingering, breeding kink-ish, pussy pronouns, dirty talk, counter sex, impregnation, multiple orgasms if you squint, no use of Y/N, foreign author's first tumblr&english drop kinda nervous, no proofreading AN: my first ever shit written in english and it is a smut so yeah guys it's not my first language and you know the drill

~ ♡ ~

Life has a fun way of turning things upside down—you give one chance to your one night stand six years ago and now you’re celebrating his offspring’s fourth birthday. Unbelievable.

Okay, quite believable considering that Leon was—Leon is—hot as hell. Explains pretty much everything as well, the kids, the marriage, it all. You’re only a woman, after all. Very weak one at that. Whatever.

Who would’ve thought that Leon would become the best husband ever, great dad too? Only you. Even he didn’t believe in himself. Commitment sounded like something straight of horror stories for him yet with you he was the one to suggest to tie the knot. When you got first pregnant Leon almost went into cardiac arrest, still you and him had two more kids after your firstborn.

But that just happened randomly, really. Not like it was or was not planned. When he’s back from month-long mission, touch-starved and pent-up, last thing you think of is protection. That’s totally understandable considering that you two make mighty cute babies. And that’s totally understandable that you conceived your last one few days before he was supposed to get vasectomy—which he still didn’t get.

You reminisce on your love story for a couple more minutes completely forgetting what you initially was about to do. Browse cake recipes. Right.

Because you didn’t want to get your hellion something from the store. It is a special occasion, after all. And special occasion is worthy of special preparation.

You’re quite good at kitchen—so good that even after all those years Leon still can’t decide whether you’re better in bedroom or at kitchen. But you barely baked literal cakes and there wasn’t much time until your son you know will wake up. So you settled on something simple like cream pie. With tons of whipped cream because all your kids love it. Leon does too. Sometimes you think that there’s zero difference between a toddler and Leon. Whatever.

So here you were, willingly wasting a couple of hours on baking just because you decided to fuck with drunkass government agent once and accidentally fell in love and let him fill your cunt up once or twice. The usual.

With AirPods covering your ears, you whip the cream engrossed in both your thoughts and music. You genuinely love listening to your Spotify playlists while doing chores or running errands—helps you to focus and makes you feel like you’re the main character and Taylor Swift’s 1989 is a soundtrack to your life. So when you feel your waist being squeezed, you yelp reflexively.

Right. Leon has a day off. Of course he has—it’s his son’s birthday and Leon loves his kids. He loves making kids even more.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Leon chants, his chin already perched on your shoulder. He lets out a loud yawn, practically slumping onto you.

You roll your eyes at his pathetic flirting and keep whipping with effort.

“Your son’s birthday cake. You hungry?” You inquire nonetheless since you didn’t even cook yet and was running on a cup of espresso.

And you swear to God, if he says that he’s hungry but not for food...

“I am. But not for food,” Leon smirks knowing how much that phrase pisses you off. If only you could actually get mad at him. Of course you could not. You actually even got butterflies somewhere in between your chest and belly. Gross. You’d never think you’d still be like that after being married for what feels like eternity.

Before you can even come up with a witty response, his palms unceremoniously settle on your breasts, squeezing the soft plump flesh through the thin fabric of your shirt, thumbs rubbing against still soft nipples. You never liked wearing bras at home—you probably should start, given how much Leon’s hands seemed to be in love with your tits. Despite his action being casual and something you experience at least few times a day, you felt your peaks harden treacherously from the stimulation.

You swat Leon’s nasty hands away like you always do—just for good measure.

“Don’t,” you chide sternly, the epitome of tough-lady act. “I’m baking.”

“So?” Leon drawls nonchalantly, his calloused palms lowering from your boobs to your midriff. “Multitasking is an important skill. Thought you’d be a goddess at it as a mother of three. And I know you actually are. So cut it out.”

You scoff in amusement. Of course you know how to multitask quite well, he’s right on the money with that one. While your oldest gets their knee scrapped, your middle one necessarily gets a tummyache and your youngest will undoubtedly shatter one of your vases and cut their pinkie on one of the shards. The kind of overstimulation you never wished for.

“Anyway, whatcha even bakin’?” Leon hums, his fingertips drawing mindless circles on your bare ribs under the hem of your shirt already—you barely even noticed him slipping underneath.

”Birthday cake, I told ya.” You huff out an air of annoyance, tapping on the phone screen with soiled fingers to prevent it from shutting into sleep mode.

“I got it, Captain Obvious,” Leon lets out a velvety laugh, squeezing creamy skin of your sides. “What kinda cake? Dunno, cheesecake? Red velvet? Mille-feuille?” He pronounces the latter with disgustingly broken attempt at imitating French accent yet you still snicker.

“Impressive. I didn’t know you’re that into cakes.” You arch an eyebrow, unable to miss the chance to tease him.

“Ah, speaking of cakes… I do know a nice cake when I see one.” He grins, pulling away a tad to appreciate your ass with his hands and eyes, giving it both a glimpse and a firm squeeze.

“You’re absolutely disgusting.” You declare, rubbing your palms on your apron. “No idea what I’m making, honestly. Just… anything with tons of cream. Creamy pie sort of thing, I guess.”

And then you bite on your tongue, realizing a little too late how absolutely stupid it was to even mention cream and pie in the same sentence whilst talking to a man with a sense of humor and hormonal level of a teenage boy.

Leon immediately perks up because no way in hell he would miss on the opportunity to make you facepalm internally.

“Pun intended, I hope?” He murmurs, grinning into the column of your neck, his lips tingling your sensitive skin. “Because again, I do know a thing or two about creampies.” Leon deadpans in a sultry voice as he leaves butterfly kisses all over the back of your neck, making your breath hitch in response.

“That’s all you’re able to think about, huh? That’s diabolical, seriously. Don’t you dare mentioning it. You really are disgusting, think I’m gonna throw up.” You ramble on in attempt to hide your own embarrassment and… ew, is that arousal?

“That so? Tough luck then, honey,” Leon laughs, seeing right through you. “But there’s one way to shut your husband, y’know.” One of his hands toys with the waistband of your yoga pants, tugging on the elastic shamelessly, and that does not help as well.

Your primal instincts are at war with your sense of responsibility. That happens all the fucking time. You swear you won’t give in, that you’ll turn him down and will just continue doing your business leaving him aching for more when in reality you’re the one desperate for more currently. Just a few filthy words, a touch, a kiss—and you’re a putty in his hands already.

“C’mon now… I gotta finish before Danny wakes up.” Your half-assed protests don’t even convince you yourself.

“Exactly, babe. Gotta make you finish before Danny wakes up,” Leon smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief and arousal. “You know you want it. You always do. You’re even more insatiable than me.” His hand fully dives under the hem of your pants, tracing the seam of your underwear with rough pad of his thumb.

You inhale sharply, heat already pooling in the pit of your belly, the fuck is going on with you today.

“Says who?” You scoff, still so adamant just because.

Leon’s gaze darkens, his finger stilling. You know he gets more and more impatient with every passing second. He might be a goofball but he’s a goofball that makes your knees buckle, after all.

“Says her,” Leon all but growls as he bits on your earlobe and his fingers suddenly make their way under your obviously already damp panties, coating them in arousal already glistening between your pussy lips.

You gasp at the unexpected action, feeling so sensitive and wet down there you’d believe you were a virgin if you hadn’t had three kids sleeping upstairs.

“That’s what I thought,” Leon hums as his pointer finger circles your slick entrance. “She’s gushing, baby. So eager. Knows how good I can make her feel.”

At this point your legs start to feel unsteady. Your cunt clenches around nothing pathetically at his teasing ministrations, begging to be filled. You can feel his hardening length poking your rear and you can’t help but to torture him back by grinding your ass against his clothed crotch. His twitching cock and raspy moan is all the response you need to feel the sense of satisfaction and to plaster a smug smirk on your face.

”Y’sure you wanna be a tease?” Leon’s hand leaves your panties as he suddenly spins you around. Now with you facing him, you’re finally able to meet the gaze of his dilated pupils.

Smoldering and wanting.

Next moment his lips crush down onto yours, him practically licking into your mouth. Leon’s kisses all teeth and tongue, sucking the life out of you. You moan into his mouth, nibbling on his lower lip in revenge and gaining a low groan from him. His hands, as per usual, don’t waste any time—squeezing, groping and kneading any dough of flesh he reaches.

Without breaking the kiss, Leon’s hands settle on your hips, lifting you up and setting you on top of the counter. His kisses grow more desperate, so demanding your lips start to hurt yet you feel some kind of wicked masochistic pleasure in that. Your legs and arms wrap around his waist and neck, pulling him in, closer and closer, until his rock-hard dick presses against your soppy core, twitching relentlessly. You both moan in filthy unison at the friction, his baritone and your higher pitch blending into obscene melody.

Leon’s hand lifts your shirt up in one swift motion and frees your perky tits, cool air irritating your nipples even further. He savors the view for a few second before he latches onto one of the buds, rolling and twisting the another with his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently, eliciting more and more wanton moans from you. You bite on your palm in attempt to keep it quiet, but Leon immediately tugs on your wrist as soon as he notices it with his peripheral vision, your nipple still in his mouth.

“The kids…” You start worryingly, your voice so high and breathy it sounds pitiful.

“The kids are sleepin’ upstairs behind their soundproofed walls ‘cause I’ma thoughtful father who wants to wreck their mother’s pussy anytime and anywhere.” Leon bites on your nipple, making you whine and clutch his shoulders. No objections. You’re well aware your whole house is soundproofed because you two were indeed prudent. Yet anytime you heard yourself moan like that, you’d thought your kids will hear and get traumatized, the whole neighbourhood will report your household and a random meteoroid will land right in your living room. Leon never hesitated to remind your overthinking ass that none of that is ever gonna happen.

You’d never admit it but his dirty mouth always makes your cunt drip. Anything about him makes it drip, in fact. But once again, whatthefuckever.

You whimper once more as Leon switches his attention to your another nipple, feeling like you’re about to burst. Zero thoughts visit your head as you rub your crotch against his desperately, the outline of his thick cock only spurring you on because God bless them gray sweatpants.

Letting out another raw groan, Leon’s lips leave your halo with a wet pop; his kisses trailing lower towards your navel, him almost having to squat to reach your lower half.

”Lift your hips,” He orders in a hoarse voice, the one that makes you grow even wetter. You obey, leaning on his broad shoulders and shifting your weight onto your arms so that your bottom raises from the counter. Leon deftly tugs your yoga pants down along with soaked panties, the cold marble of the counter right under your cunt as the discarded clothing pools around your ankles.

Leon pulls you closer to his body, his fingers finding your pussy again, “Gon’ check on her, to see if she’s all nice and ready for me.”

“Always is,” You croak out, feeling his index finger prodding at your entrance. He pushes his digit in until its buried in your cunt to the knuckle and you yelp as your velvety walls tightly grip the intruder in a welcoming manner.

“Think you’re right,” Leon chuckles even though you can hear how his breath shudders. “She missed me, it seems. So goddamn tight, a finger barely fits yet takes my cock so fuckin’ good all the time. Pure magic.”

You absorb all his dirty words while a second rough finger joins, both now scissoring and curling inside you. You mewl at the feeling, your hips urging you to thrust forward because it’s not enough—it’s never enough.

Leon’s lips dance around your abdomen as he pistons his fingers in and out of you, slipping the third in the meantime but you’re too distracted by the feeling of his thumb suddenly finding your engorged clit, peeking out of its hood. He rubs it in tight circles, just enough pressure to make you wail somewhere into his shoulder, spreading your thighs wider as if it could help to increase the stimulation. His chapped lips worship your things and lower stomach, nibbling gently then licking in apology.

“So greedy,” Leon rasps, his thumb flicking over your clitoris accompanied by your curt moans. “Cum on my fingers. Soak ‘em, baby. Like a good fucking girl you are.”

Your things tremble, lips hang open and your clit’s so swollen and sensitive it’s maddening. If you’re gonna cum, you’re probably gonna explode as well.

But you do cum without exploding—all it takes a few more pumps of his fingers to your sloppy cunt and couple of circles firm to your clit. Your orgasm feels like a fucking hurricane Katrina. Your knees surely would buckle and lead you to falling if it wasn’t for you already sitting down.

“Face’s so pretty when you cum.” Leon’s thumbs rub your hipbones soothingly, waiting for you to come down from your high.

“You talk too much for someone who got a patch on his boxers.” You bite back, embarassed, despite still feeling dizzy as you tug on the waistband of his pants, taking a quick peek inside. But it’s true—you can see precum staining his underwear which clings to his cock already, highlighting his girthy shaft.

Leon smirks, “About to fix this problem right now.”

You sit there, perched up on the counter awkwardly as your husband lowers his pants down to his knees, now providing you a delicious view to his hard-on. Cotton of his boxers embraces his cock in the most inappropriate way ever and you feel even more slutty at the realization that you salivate at the sight of cock. Thick, wide and veiny. He didn’t even took his underwear off yet, but you had the image engraved into your mind.

You want to take his shirt off him. Badly. This is just a quickie, you remind yourself. Not exactly suitable time or place for body worshiping.

Leon finally rolls down his boxers and frees his aching length. It plops against his stomach, the head’s swollen and angry red. You bite on your lip, fingers twitching reflexively in want to touch. Like a fucking Pavlov dog.

Leon exhales through his parted lips, pads of his rough fingers fisting his shaft, him pulling off the foreskin as he gives himself a few sloppy pumps. Beads of precum form on the split insistently, and you can’t help but run the tip of your forefinger along his lengthy cock. That makes him groan lowly.

“Wider,” Leon nods to your thighs and you obey instantly, spreading your legs as wide as you can.

His strong arms gently cup the dip of your waist, one then leaving it to grasp his aching dick and to align it with your dripping entrance. He slides it against your slick folds lazily, smearing his precum and your natural lube. You moan drawlingly and rub against his cockhead, your clit growing erected once again.

“So fucking naughty,” Leon comments, his neck tilted to the side and eyes half-lidden. He slaps the head of his dick against your pussy lips a few times, and before you can beg him to just impale you on his cock, he pushes forward.

You moan as he sharply yet gently bottoms out in you, inch by torturous inch. Leon’s definitely bigger than average and taking him in is definitely a challenge but you could swear after all these years your cunt took shape of his cock. Your inner walls squeeze him eagerly, desperate to be full of him.

Leon lets out a growl himself, the inside of your pussy so snug and hot and wet. If he could spend his life buried balls-deep inside of you, he would.

“Don’t think I’ll last long,” Leon grunts as he finally starts moving, holding onto your waist. You wrap your legs around his torso, crossing them at ankles and pulling him in closer and closer, feeling him even deeper that way. Your arms find home around his neck, your fingers playing with the tufts of the hair on the back of it softly.

You both moan as Leon picks up the pace, his thrusts getting more purposeful. Your head rolls back a bit and your hands lower to his back, clutching his shirt and twirling your fingers around the fabric.

Leon’s blue orbs lock with your eyes, and your lips hastily meet, his tongue immediately making its way into wet cavern of your mouth. He swallows all your moans, taking the opportunity to delve into you harder and quicker.

Then he suddenly bends you backwards a little, changing the angle of your coupling slightly. Now the head of his cock kisses your cervix, stretching you even further and making you wail like a bitch in heat. Your cunt clenches desperately, that spongy spot deep inside of you getting pounded and you’re one leg in heaven, seeing stars and whatever is above. Hell would be more accurate probably, because do they even let people with such wanton cries in heaven?

Leon snarls at the sensation of your cunt milking his cock for all its worth. His swift fingers dissapear between your things, pinching your itching nub. You mewl, still pushing your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

“That’s fucking it, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock while I play with that pretty li’l clit of yours.”

He rolls your numb clit with his two fingers. You whimper, and his lips find yours again as he finally rubs it deftly with his thumb.

You feel his cock twitch nestled by the neck of your womb. You squeeze his shoulders tighter, heat building in the pit of your stomach.

Leon’s lips detach from yours, his forehead resting against your forehead. He presses a few messy kisses to the bridge of your nose, his grip on your waist tightening.

”Gonna fill you up so good you’ll be walkin’ around dripping with my cum,” He promises as his cock brushes against your cervix once again.

Nothing rational wakes inside of you. You just mewl in encouragement.

Leon groans barely holding back from busting a nut deep inside of you, “Yeah? You’d like that, getting your cunt stuffed full?”

You moan as his cock’s thrusts match the pace of his ministrations with your clit.

“Yeah please,” You whine stupidly, full body trembling already.

“Wanna see my load dribbling out of you,” He groans into the crook of your neck. “Always so fucking sexy, makes me all hard again.”

You nod chaotically and squint, wanting him to just shut up because if he says one more filthy word you’ll lose it.

“What about fourth?” Leon suddenly asks.

Your eyes snap open, “Huh?”

”Fourth kid, y’know. I know you’ll probably go get plan B after I creampie you, but… Dunno. They grow so fast and…” He breathes heavily, you both on the edge yet now way more conscious than before. “Honestly just want to experience it all again. One last time. But I get it, labor’s hell and I hate seein’ you go through it, and I literally may get killed any moment with this fucking job, just…”

You shush him softly by pressing a finger to his lips.

“Thought you’d never ask. Jason saw Chris’ newborn that last time they came over and asked me how to spell ‘baby sister’ so he can ask Santa for her.” You chuckle shortly, remembering your son’s adorable antics. With having three boys, obviously you secretly wished for a little princess. Just never thought you and Leon were on the same page, especially after him drunk-rambling about him “being a potential corpse during every mission” once.

The way Leon’s eyes light up when you mention makes your heart go pitter-patter. You feel his cock twitch inside you in excitement and your face contorts in pleasure.

”He said that?” You nod and Leon smiles even wider. “Then it’s settled, huh?”

“I guess it is,” You smile back. “Spontaneity leads to great outcomes sometimes.”

Leon hums in affirmation and his lips graze the column of your throat, stubbled chin leaving a prickly sensation in its wake.

”And… It’s your lucky day, then,” You smirk.

”Huh?” Leon raises his head.

”I’m ovulating.” You explain with a giggle.

”That’s goddamn awesome. Puttin’ a baby in you. Right. Fuckin’. Now.” He rasps, last three words accentuated by sharp thrusts and your head lolls back again.

A few pushes of his dick, and you’re already so close that cumming feels like a life-supporting necessity.

“Leon, gonna…” You warn with a whine, scratching his back through his shirt slightly.

He growls, “Milk my cock for cum, yeah? That’s what you gon’ do? Squeeze the load of it and suck it deep so you’re swollen with our baby again?”

At this point you just moan like a broken record without even registering what the fuck he’s even saying.

His dick hits the spot and you see Leon reaching towards your clit, but there’s no even need.

Your cunt clenches around Leon’s length, gripping it tightly as you get crushed by the tidal wave of your finish. It’s so good your legs tremble. You feel Leon’s lips on your jaw through the haze but that feels incredibly distant.

Leon roars at the feeling of your pussy clasping around him. He pistons in and out a few times, sloppily fucking you through your orgasm.

And here it comes.

You feel jets of his hot viscid cum spilling inside, him groaning as he empties his balls deep in your pussy. He pushes inside some more times to make sure his release stays plugged inside of you.

You two stay like this for a few more moments, his face resting on the arch of your collarbone and your hands limp around his upper body.

With a hiss, Leon eventually pulls out. Some droplets of his cum manage to escape your fertile haven, and he doesn’t hesitate to push it back inside with his fingers.

Finally satisfied, he steps back, his now spent cock hanging flaccidly. Leon hastily tucks himself, tugging his boxers and pants back on. You still feel almost intoxicated, so just sit there awkwardly until Leon gets you back in your undies and sweats. You hum gratefully, wrapping yourself around him, all limp and sex-drunk.

Leon chuckles at that, “You sure you wanna keep this whole cake shebang goin’, baby? I mean I think we had quite a creampie, just not the one you originally intended to make.”

You scoff lazily, “Mindblowing sex does not reschedule your son’s birthday.”

“Never said it does, honey. But I think with your pussy serving my cock so well, I owe you big time. You just rest. Go take a shower, lay down, anything.” Leon pats your back and pecks your temple, holding you tight as you almost slip off the counter.

“Are you kidding me? You expect me to leave our kid without his cake?” You object, still snuggling against him.

”You won’t, baby. There’s this new bakery place I got you cheesecake from last week. Think they definitely have somethin’ good and birthday-suitable. I told you, just stop worryin’ your ass and go chill before I fuck your nervousness out of you again.” Leon grins, squeezing your buttcheek softly.

“...Okay,” You finally relent with a sigh. “But I’m baking something for your birthday, deal? It’s just in a month and I swear I’ll find some killa recipe so you’ll get so rapturous you’ll fall in love with me all over again.”

Leon laughs at that, the sound low and velvet. He pulls away a bit, cupping your face and looking you in the eyes.

”I’m pretty much satisfied with the pie we ended up having today, baby. But if you insist… Whatever you make is heaven. Thumbs up. And just so you know… There’s no way to make me more in love with you that I am now. Nobody else’s cunt I’d rather pound into.”

You smile, and so does Leon. He embraces you, warm and tight.

”Also… I think we surely did put a bun in the oven, huh? Quite the bakers, if I do say so myself.” Leon teases and you swat his chest playfully.

”You’re getting the vasectomy the day test shows positive.” You declare. “This time’s for sure.”

Leon laughs, kissing the top of your head lovingly as he rubs your belly, ”Yes ma’am.”

”Now go. The tastiest cake it is you’re getting or I’ll cut your balls off myself.” You shoo him jokingly and he salutes, blowing one last kiss to you.

You finally jump off the counter, heading upstairs to take a much-needed shower.

Baking indeed is a tedious activity.

~ ♡ ~

[slutzforbueckers]

twenty nights pt 2— p.b x fem!oc

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!oc

warnings: arguing, fluff

synopsis: viola went through your phone while you were asleep and found that you had been cheating on her.

a/n: yall didn’t answer about giving reader a name so i just did it anyway.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“yo? wake up, bro.” you groaned at the feeling of your legs being tapped and shaken repeatedly. still being half asleep, you pulled your blanket further up your body and turned to the side. the sound of your girlfriends voice rang through your ears again, much louder and sharper than the first time. “cameron, wake your ass up! what the fuck is this shit?”

the last part registered in your brain despite the grogginess of being woken out of your sleep. your mind immediately went straight to your phone, to paige. she couldn’t know about what was happening, could she? you said a quick prayer in your head before opening your eyes. you turned around to face your girlfriend, angry and kneeling over you with your phone in hand.

there wasn’t much of anything you could do other than try to calm her down but first you needed to get your phone away from her. you sat up and reached for your phone that was tight in her grasp. viola pulled her arm back quickly and out of your reach, shaking her head furiously. “Viola, just give me my phone.”

“nah nah.” she moved off of the bed and backed away to the middle of the room. she was still scrolling through what you assume to be you and paige’s text messages. each text she read just made her hotter with anger. “how long you been out being a hoe? this what we doing now?”

“oh please, don’t act like you ain’t been doing the same shit our whole relationship!” you threw your hands in the air, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. moving off the bed, you walked over to your girlfriend and tried to grab your phone again. you couldn’t believe it was happening, she finally caught you after months of successfully hiding it.

you and viola were standing toe to toe at this point, both equally upset but for different reasons. the tension in the room was thick, the silence hanging heavy between you both. viola couldn’t even deny that she had been cheating, she knew you knew. she wasn’t sure why but she felt betrayed, she couldn’t believe that you were cheating and she hadn’t had a clue all this time.

“how long? how long this been going on?” she asked, her breath coming out faster the longer she scrolled through your phone. you reached for your phone again, you could feel your temper rising when she yanked your phone out of your reach again. your hands balled into fist by your sides, you couldn’t believe she was upset at you when she had been doing the same thing.

“it doesn’t matter! you been doing the same shit with way more girls.” you ran your fingers through your hair and backed away from her, realizing she wasn’t going to give you your phone back. “you know how stupid you had me looking? you know how many bitches we’re texting me left and right telling me they had been with you?”

“bet, be a fucking slut.” viola clenched her jaw, nodding her head slowly. she knew she couldn’t argue with you over it because you were right, still it didn’t make her any less upset. she didn’t say anything else to you after that. you watched her throw your phone at the wall and walk out the room, you shook your head with a humorless laugh and followed after her.

“you don’t get to be mad at me, vi. you started this, you not me.” you crossed your arms over your chest, watching as she grabbed her jacket off the back of the couch. she already had her shoes on and her keys in her hand, she kept her back turned to you. you sucked your teeth and dropped your arms to your side. there was no point in trying anymore, not when she wasn’t listening.

“fine. leave your key on the table.” you shook your head and turned on your heels, retreating back to your room. you closed the door behind you and picked up your phone off the floor, letting out a breathe of relief that it wasn’t broken. you sat on the edge of your bed and ran your hands over your face. the last thing you heard was the sound of keys and the door slamming shut.

it was quiet now—too quiet. your heart had stopped pounding and you could finally hear your thoughts. even though you told yourself you didn’t care, you did. you and viola’s relationship was nothing but lies and sneaking around, but you had good times together. you cared for her feelings more than you should’ve. maybe that’s why you could feel your chest tightening.

you bit down on your lip hard, trying to swallow that lump starting to form in your throat, but it was useless. your vision started to blur and you wiped your eyes harshly, internally scolding yourself for crying. before you knew it, your phone was in your hands and you were calling paige.

the phone rang for a few seconds longer before you heard her voice and a sense of comfort filled your body, her voice was raspy and full of sleep. you sniffled and wiped your cheeks before speaking. “hi, uhm, it’s cam.”

“i know.” even in her half asleep state, paige couldn’t help but smile at the mention of your name. she chose not to mention the fact that she had set her phone to only allow calls and text from you when her phone was on do not disturb. “it’s late, is everything okay?”

“no yeah, everything’s-“ you cleared your throat, trying to sound as normal as possible. “everything’s fine. i’m sorry for waking you up.”

it was silent on the other end. paige noticed the slight waver in your voice, any tiredness she might have felt disappeared. she could tell you had been crying and she didn’t like that.

“i’m on the way.” before you could start to protest the phone call ended.

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

it had been around 30 minutes since your call with paige and thankfully since then you had stopped crying. you decided to move to the living room and let open the balcony, wanting to let in some fresh air. you sat in silence with your head resting on the arm of the couch as you stared out of the window.

soon enough a knock on the door broke you away from your thoughts. you wiped your eyes one more time to make sure there were no tears before getting up to open the door. when you opened it paige stood there with a bag from the gas station in each hand, she held them up with a bashful smile on her face. “i picked up some of your favorites.”

you shook your head with a light laugh before stepping aside so she could enter. you gently closed the door behind her and made sure everything was locked up before guiding her to your bedroom. now that paige was here, you could finally breathe it seemed. she brought you comfort and made things easier, better.

“okay, i was thinking we could maybe eat a shit ton of junk food while we watch a movie, maybe complain about how bad our stomachs hurt, and then sleep?” paige climbed into your bed and made herself comfortable before she noticed you were still just standing at the door staring at her. “what are you doing? come on, this isn’t going to eat itself.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, a real genuine laugh. you grabbed the tv remote off your dresser and turned the big light off so you could turn your lamp on before you climbed in bed next to her. paige opened her arms for you, creating a space for you, and you gladly took it.

“here, you look for a movie.” you handed her the tv remote while you started to look through the snacks she brought. she really did bring your favorites, some you didn’t even realize she knew. after picking out a candy you handed her the bags so she could get hers. “how’d you even know these were my favorites?”

paige hummed and shrugged her shoulders, taking the bags from you and picking out her candy. she leaned over and placed the bags on the floor beside the bed. “i pay attention.”

“thanks, p.” you laid back into her arms and she started the movie. she had picked out some old cartoon she found on disney, they were funny and she figured you needed something to lighten your mood. while the movie played you both ate your candy and laughed plenty of times.

eventually you could feel how late it was. she pulled you into her arms and ran her fingers through your hair. you laid on her chest and you could hear the steady beat of her heart. everything else was quiet, the thoughts that were once racing in your mind had all fallen silent.

“thank you for being here. i know this isn’t what you initially signed up for—me calling you at one in the morning to comfort me because me and my girlfriend broke up.” your words were almost slurred from how tired you were, you were barely awake but you wanted her to know you were thankful.

paige let out a small breath because you were right, it wasn’t what she initially signed up for, but she wouldn’t go back even if she could. she couldn’t change the way she felt about you now, quite frankly she didn’t want to. she knew you wouldn’t hear her response because you had already slipped under, the tight grip you had on her shirt had loosened and that’s how she knew, but she spoke anyway.

“call me and i’ll come, cam. i’ll come every time.”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this!! send ideas for part 3 id love to hear y’all’s thoughts and feedback!

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Silence | The Salesman x Wife!Reader

Summary: He Plays with others and enjoys their spiral into desesperation. But a call from his wife means more.

Warnings: Canon violence - Sadistic!Salesman - Lovely!Salesman - Whipped for his wife -

The Salesman smirked as he saw the two men in front of him. Both seated in front of each other, restrained to their respective chairs and with gags on their mouths (now removed so he could listen to their pleas and cries)

Both were sweating and crying as he ordered them to go again.

The Salesman likes games. He likes others suffering under them. He enjoys it like its his favorite TV show.

Currently he was making them play Russian Roulette and added to that he was making them play rock papper scissors with the twist of removing one hand. Once they do the one who loses its the one the Salesman will shot. So far both have survived against the odds. But The Salesman did like it, two fresh bullets inside the revolver waiting to pierce throw a brain of one of them.

"Again" He commanded and both men looked at each other. The odds of dying still high "We should make this more interesting" He added another bullet teasting them as he showed them the three bullets and closed it rolling it.

"Please stop this. We wont tell anyone" One of them said between sobs as the Salesman put the gun under his chin a sick smile present.

"Oh no, I cant do that. You see, you two are here for a reason. And only one of them can walk out of this alive. You both wanted that" he used the gun to point to a lot of cash a gift from the organization for his good work. He did not need more money, and the organization knew he did enjoy playing personal games. A win over win.

"We dont want it" the other Man said "We dont-"

"Then you would prefer to go back to your life of worm? To be hiding from loan sharks and keep being beaten" he then took a look at the other men "or give yourself to alcohol and then sleep on the streets? Doing it whatever to get a small part of the money you need? You two dig on others and cause trouble and suffer. No one wants either of you in their lives. Because they know just how bad you two are. This is a chance" he opened his arms signaling the room they were in with a big smile. Eyes shining with amusment "Man up! Kill the other one and get yourself a better life. Thats what im offering, im not bad im being generous" he said his smile big and twisted as he leaned in between them "Go on, do something for your life once" he whispered then got back to his standing position a serious look now "AGAIN" He screamed both men starting to play the rock papper scissors  with both hands "FASTER" the different shapes went faster as the heart of each men beated wildly.

"AND-"

A ringtone broke the atmosphere  the song "My only love" being played on the background. The Salesman pulled out his phone seeing the picture of himself and his dear wife, she was calling him. Probably to ask him about dinner or where he was.

"One moment" He said to the two men who were too stunned. They saw the Man who at this point had showed nothing but empyness and cruelty towards them get a sincere smile and a centrain bright in his eyes as she answered the call.

"Hello my Love, everything alright there?" The Salesman empy voice was now filled with emotion and love as he walked away from the two men. "Mhm I see, no its work. My Boss sent me two internts for late training" he said smirking over his shoulder "oh? Yes I will tell them you said Hello, they are doing....well the could do better"

One of the men feeling like this was his chance in a desesperated atempt screamed "DONT BELIEVE HIM!! HE HAS ME AND ANOTHER PERSON HOSTAGE AND IS GOING TO KILL US!! PLEASE YOU NEED TO CALL THE POLICE"

At your house your face took a suprised look and then confusion "What was that ? I hear hostage and kill, you giving them too much work?" You joked not knowing what was happening. You did listen to what could be a collision "...Dear are you safe?" You asked worried thinking it was him in danger.

At the hideout the Salesman had just knocked the Man's face with the revolver. His breath coming hard as he held himslef from screaming knowing you were still on the line.

"Im safe my Love. This two like to play jokes instead of following orders. Im afraid I will be home late" he answered his voice back to a lovely tone "Please dont wait for me awake I hate seeing your tired face...fine I will wake you up once im home. I love you"

Once he handed and pulled his phone back he circled the two men one of them now leacking blood from his head.

"I gave you two too much credit" he started as he went towards the table and took the four bullets left. "If you two cant read a room I dont expect you to be able to rebuild your life" he finished the sound of the gun ready to shot sending shiver down their spines.

"You will root in hell" the one who screamed earlier said "and your wife will-"

Two shoots to his head and he felt backwards the other Man screaming at the sight.

"One for talking. Two for mentioning my wife" He said without emotion turning towards the other Man.

"Wait!! I did not do a thing, it was him! Please I dont want to die, please please!"

"Worms. Always trying to get a way out. You dig and dig and if you find a competitor you push then. In other case I might have let you live. But you did overlook one thing"

He pointed the gun towards his hands both out from under the table and on his lap crushing his legs.

"You moved your hand when earlier I said not to unless i gave the order" he cold metal made contact with his head "You dont deserve a second chance if you cant even follow a simple order like that"

Another shot and just because he was angry the three bullets left were used to.

He took a look at himself feeling the blood on his face and shirt. He would have to clean the place and himself before going home to you.

And find another two players for next time.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Finally when he got home it was four in the morning. He silently left his briefcase and changed before joining you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. He kissed your head when he felt you move.

"Shh go back to sleep my Love. Im here now" he whispered into your hear kissing it then letting his head fall against your neck smelling you. His heart melting by how you looked all sleepy and in his arms.

He did not want to think on whatever that worm was going to say about you. He may die and walk in hell, but you ? You were too pure and kind. You would live a peaceful life that he would take care of and protect. No one would ever hurt you or say your name in a bad way.

You would live by his side forever. Being the closest thing to good and real as he played his part for the organization and his twisted needs.

[katzell]

I love all these takes on Matt and agree completely. This was the first episode that I really liked because I felt like we had Matt back! He was cocky, moralizing, angry and brutal in how he went about accomplishing his goals.

Matt’s collisions with other vigilantes have always been fraught. He and Frank beat the shit out of each other. He was deeply skeptical of everyone in the Defends. His trust was the hardest to earn and I’d argue only Jessica ever did. That was possibly because Jessica herself is loudly ambivalent on the subject of vigilantes and because Matt’s profession made him familiar with and more readily appreciative of her investigatory methods. Matt was always going to believe he knew better than White Tiger. This would have been true even if they had met at a time when Matt still believed that vigilantes played an important role in keeping people safe. It requires a certain amount of steely certainty in your own judgement to be a vigilante. And that doesn’t go away just because the clothes are packed up in a box.

There is dissonance in Matt’s view of the world that can never be fully resolved because he wants there to be a clear, fair system of justice. But its also slow, imperfect, and has been abused by people with power. And Matt doesn’t know how to not act. And that is why we love him as imperfect as he is.

There are plenty of sweet super heroes. But as an adult, I prefer a complicated man who yes, sometimes is an asshole. But that is because he’s hypersensitive not just in how he interacts with the word, but how he feels about it. He cares too much. He loves too much. He hurts too much. He is trying too hard. And when that happens the wins can be glorious but the failures will also cause more pain. And I’m so here for that.

i feel like some of you are unable to wrap your heads around matt being a flawed person beyond "uwu my flawed traumatized baby"

he lies, he's reckless, he wrongs and disrespects the people he cares about, he's a hypocrite of the highest order, he decides that sometimes he knows best and that he is right to bulldoze over the motivations of other people.

after outing ayala as the white tiger in court — which i do think is in-character, he's a great lawyer but he's known to take risks and allow his daredevil-ness to bleed into how he presents his clients — he tries to moralize to hector with borrowed lines from maggie. matt, with his current rejectionist viewpoint on vigilantism, thinks he has done hector a favor by making it impossible or hard for him to be white tiger. he makes false equivalencies and says things that he knows are bullshit because he's deluding himself.

despite all his altruism (which he is currently going on a year of suppressing), matt is a spectacularly self-centered person. it's an argument he and foggy had multiple times. but as the audience, we can see the extent of it in a way that foggy can't: matt filters the world around him through the ways he thinks about himself. vigilantism lost matt his best friend, therefore it is not only okay but right for him to take the white tiger from hector (it would protect his loved ones).

but we know that matt is still experiencing a great deal of cognitive dissonance. it's not really as simple as "vigilantism bad" for him, is it? so we get matt saying things he would not otherwise say, not only to justify himself to hector but also to convince himself.

[slutforvoldy]

“ ILLICIT AFFAIRS. ” ( lando norris ! )

SUMMARY: an illicit affair between the reader and lando spirals into heartbreak, leaving behind only stolen moments and broken promises.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: angst, infidelity, taylor swift references, mentions of y/n.

pairing: lando norris x female!reader

IT WAS WRONG. You knew it was very wrong. To be someone’s forbidden fruit—a mistress. You knew the risks and the consequences of your impulsive actions. Yet, you felt no ounce of regret.

You hated yourself.

You hated how you let yourself sink into this.

You hated how you kept falling into bed with him, knowing he belonged to someone else. A wife, even.

You hated how selfish you had become.

You told yourself you could stop anytime. But you never did. Maybe it was the thrill. The secrecy. The pleasure. The stolen moments that made you feel wanted.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. You never wanted this to happen. But with Lando Norris, it all felt too good.

It all began at a Formula 1 afterparty—a world of dazzling lights and champagne-fueled celebrations. One glance across the crowded room, and your eyes met with a pair of green eyes staring right back at you.

And somehow, that's how your story started.

You started sneaking around, making excuses, whispering lies to those who asked where you were, telling them you'd be going out for a "run." In reality, you were having sex in the backseat of his car.

Months passed.

Secret meetings. Stolen glances at parties. Midnight rendezvous that left you breathless. Every whispered promise, every fleeting moment of passion made you fall deeper for the British guy.

You craved the rush.

The way his gaze burned into yours across a crowded room.

The way he said your name, like it was the only thing that mattered.

The way his touch ignited something in you—something dangerous, something irresistible.

And then, one morning, everything changed.

“Let’s talk. 4 PM”

The formality of the message sent a wave of unease through you. Something was wrong. You felt it in your bones.

But you ignored the warning bells and went anyway.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

Lando’s voice was steady, but the weight behind his words crushed you. He leaned back in the dimly lit café—the place that had become your hidden world.

Your breath hitched. Your mind raced, scrambling for an explanation.

How could he say this so easily?

What happened to all the promises?

And most importantly,

Why now?

“W-what?” Of all the things you wanted to say, that was all you could manage.

“Baby, don’t—”

“Don’t call me baby!”You snapped, your voice raw with heartbreak.

Lando shut his eyes, exhaling heavily.

“You made me look like an idiotic fool,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Look at me, Lando. Look at this godforsaken mess that you made of me!” You cried out, not even noticing the sorrowful tears that you shed.

“I love you, Lando…” The confession slipped out before you could stop it. For the first time, you said it aloud.

For the first time, it felt real.

His eyes widened. For a moment, he looked at you like he might say it back.

The silence between the two of you was so loud. It was deafening. Just the two of you gaping at each other.

But then he looked away, feeling ashamed.

“I’m going to be a father, Y/N.”

The words hit you like a crashing wave, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your body went cold.

Your heart shattered.

Silence stretched between you. The air felt suffocating.

You had no right to be jealous. No right to be angry. You were just the mistress. The secret. The sin.

He would always choose her. You should have known.

You should have seen this coming.

It was your fault for believing his empty words.

Stupid, stupid girl.

“I hope you understand… my family needs me,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You remembered the times when you would lay against his chest, naked under the bedsheets, with him muttering sweet words against your ear, and you giggling while you were wrapped around his arms.

“I love you,” he had whispered before. “I can’t wait to be with you forever.”

“But what about your wife?” You asked looking up, doe eyed and staring at his green eyes. His green eyes that started all this mess.

“Does it matter?” he had murmured, brushing a kiss over your lips. “I’ll always love you. No matter what.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Lies.

Lies.

Lies.

"Any man would be lucky to have you, Y/N. I really valued these months with you," he said now, as if his words could soften the inevitable goodbye.

You let out a hollow laugh. "So, that’s it?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

You stared at him, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the way his fingers fidgeted, the way his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say more.

But he wouldn’t.

And even if he did, it wouldn’t change anything.

For the first time, you truly understood what you were to him.

A secret. A mistake. A fleeting indulgence that he could afford to leave behind.

You inhaled sharply, forcing a smile onto your lips—one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"Have a good life, Norris."

His jaw tensed. He gave you one last look, something unreadable in his expression.

“I love you, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

You clenched your fists. “You’re making this harder. Just go, Lando. Please.”

A heavy sigh escaped him before he stood. The rustling of his clothes filled the silence.

You watched him walk away.

You watched him glance back at you.

You watched him leave.

And just like that, it ended the way it started—

Stolen glances filled with unspoken words.

Only this time, they clung to the remnants of their so-called love.

[sweetdispatch]

Prologue - Q. Hughes

My Muse pairing: Quinn Hughes x singer!reader summary: After the first album you couldn't find inspiration to write new music. Everything changed when you met the captain of your favorite hockey team warning: none note: tell me what you think about it!

The first album was a huge hit. You poured every emotion into it. It was about how you had to fight to achieve something, how your friends and family were helping you. It was dear to your heart and you couldn’t be more proud of it. The tour was eventful, you met many new people and experienced a lot of things. 

After the promotion, you got back home to Vancouver. Everyone was telling you that since you’re popular you should move to Los Angeles or New York but your heart was in Vancouver and you didn’t want to leave this city. When you opened the door to your apartment and laid on the couch, you felt drained of energy. 

Weeks went by and you still didn’t do much. You were hanging out with your friends and family. Every single time you sat down to write something, your head was empty. You couldn’t come up with anything. Every lyric you wrote felt empty, without any emotions. You really thought that you lost the gift of writing songs. 

That’s why you decided to take a break. You wanted to write something real and not something forced. You wanted to stay authentic and not become a product of the industry. You were walking around Vancouver searching for inspiration. Trying to find yourself again. Everyone around you was helping you with this. They wanted you to succeed. 

One day, you received a phone call from your manager. He told you that the local hockey team, Vancouver Canucks, invited you to a game. You smiled widely when you heard about it. You have loved hockey since you were a little kid. Even played when you were younger. You were more than excited to go to this game. 

The day arrived and you were smiling the whole time. You felt like a kid going to this match. Vancouver played against Seattle. You were sitting in the press box with your manager and GM of this team. Three of you were talking about the game and how much it means to the team that you arrived. It was a good promotion for them that you showed up. 

Vancouver won this match 4:1 and you were delighted. It was your team and you believed that you were the happiest person that you witnessed. Because of your hectic schedule, you weren’t capable of going to their games but always found time to watch them on TV. 

After the game, the GM of the team took you downstairs so you could meet the coach and the players. You were excited because you never met anyone from the organisation. You never wanted to use your position for this and believed that if this is meant for you, it will happen. And this is exactly what happened today. 

You had a talk with a coach who was polite and happy about the win. Everyone was delighted with the win and you could hear it from the screaming and singing in the dressing room. After a couple of minutes, he had to leave you for his media duty but he promised you that the player should be free in a minute. You smiled and waited while texting your friend. 

The door opened and the player left the room. It was the captain of the Vancouver Canucks, Quinn Hughes. You blushed a little bit when you saw him. He had wet and messy hair, a long sleeved black thermal shirt and shorts with Vancouver’ logo. He smiled at you and took his hand towards you. 

“Hi. I’m Quinn Hughes” He introduced himself to you. You shook his hand and did the same. “Everyone was excited with your arrival. Guys have been playing your music whole the time” He said softly. 

“That’s so sweet. It’s good to know that my team loves my music” You joked and you could hear Quinn’ giggles. “Congratulations on the win. It was an incredible experience to witness this” You spoke to him. 

“Thank you. It was great to win a game especially after the struggles we’ve had in previous games” Quinn smiled at you. 

“I’m sure it’s over now and you and your team are gonna be the best team out there from now on” You responded. It was an awkward conversation for both of you but you enjoyed his company.

“With your support, definitely” Quinn said and looked at you. He was in awe of your beauty. “I know this might sound inappropriate but would you like to go for a coffee some day?” He asked you and you nodded.

“With pleasure. Just tell me when and where” You said to him with a wide smile. From the inside, you could hear someone screaming his name.  

“I’ll text you. It was a pleasure to meet you Y/N” Quinn said before he disappeared behind the door. 

After you returned home, you were smiling like crazy. You couldn’t believe what you just experienced. And the fact that Quinn asked you out was a perfect summary of this day. There was something in him that made you want him more and more. You called your friends, told them about everything and they were more than happy for you. 

The next day you got a text from Quinn, asking you if you are free today to meet. You agreed almost immediately. You ran to your closet to find clothes for the coffee. You didn't want to look like you’re going on a date with him but you also didn’t want to look like you’re forced to go there. 

When you finally found a perfect outfit, you sat down on your couch thinking about it. Yesterday it was awkward and you felt like you had nothing in common. You didn’t know what to expect. You were scared that he might think of you as a dumb popstar who wants to jump into his bed. When the clock hit the hour, you stood up proudly and left your apartment. 

All your worries left your mind when you spotted Quinn again. He looked good and you were matching with the outfits because both of you decided to go with hoodie and jeans. As a real gentleman, Quinn paid for your coffee and you left the coffee shop. It was a warm day so you two went for a walk in a park. 

You were talking about everything and nothing. Quinn was curious and asked you a lot of questions. You did the exact same thing when he was talking. You two learnt a lot of things about each other. It was a perfect afternoon. You spent hours on talking with him and couldn’t get enough. 

After you got back home, you felt motivated to write again. All the time you were missing one thing and it was love. Well, you weren’t in love with him after one date but you hoped there might be something between you two. You two were famous so you treated each other like normal people. 

You sat down and wrote the first song since you decided to take a break. You were proud of the lyrics and sent a quick message to your manager that you are slowly starting working on your new material. You blocked your phone and you smiled while reading the lyrics and that’s when you knew.

Quinn Hughes is your muse for the next music album

Song 1 in making...

[muqingslover]

hiii, can you please share more goofy habits caleb has while sharing a bed with u 💝

[ By popular demand i'm here to share extra thoughts on Caleb's sleeping habits! Kinda of a part two to this, in case you missed! ]

-----------------------------⁠✿⁠⁠✿⁠⁠✿⁠--------------------------

Oh boy there's so much to unpack here. We all know Caleb has experienced a loooot of bad things and has not worked through them in an actual healthy way at all. He is also a master at hiding it from you, but you can get a glimpse of how damaged he truly is during bedtime.

First of all, you will rarely, if ever, catch him sleeping on an actual bed. Or sleeping at all to be honest. What Caleb does is take power naps whenever he can on his couch at the office or when he's at your place waiting for you to. The one to (partially) blame for this is his chronic insomnia. I like to believe Caleb has always been a very light sleeper and it's only gotten worse throughout the years— The sound of a door opening is enough for him to be wide wake in a matter of seconds. Trust issues anyone?

When he wakes up, if alone, his go-to activity is working out. He'll do push-ups or leave the house for a loooong late night jog, anything that will tire his body out since he's wired up. Then, he takes a freezing cold shower to reboot his system and either starts to work early or sits down to solve some calculus problems to prevent his mind from thinking about anything else since it's 98% of the time never anything good.

To add to that, the main reason as to why his insomnia is so bad is the fact he has nightmares on an almost daily basis. They're often about you in some way and he wakes up panicking about where you are, how you are, if you're with someone else, why you aren't here with him instead and if you plan on leaving him. That's why it's so crucial for Caleb that you stay somewhere he can see you whenever he needs to. Otherwise, his anxiety will gnaw at him until he just shows up unprompted on your front door in the middle of the night.

On the topic of nightmares, next thing on the list is a more...sensitive one: His reactions to nightmares that involves the abuse Caleb himself went through. I say sensitive because this man is a trained soldier and he wakes up in very high alert which, sometimes, means he might hurt you by pure reflex similar to retired war veterans.

The first time you woke up with his hands tightly wrapped around your neck you seriously thought you were a goner. The sound of your voice calling his name was fortunately enough to make him snap out of the haze he was trapped in, believing he was under the threat of the ghosts of his past and had to defend himself before it was him the one who would end up dead. You have always been his anchor, it was not a surprise that you were the only one able to pull him back even in a moment like this.

Regardless if he had been in control or not, Caleb would blame himself until his last day on this world. He wouldn't sleep (Key word being sleep because he will stay in bed with you, he just won't *sleep*) on the same bed as you anymore after this and instead spends his nights on a mattress on the floor next to you. The sight of your bruised neck and the tears in your eyes because of his hands, because of him, only serve as fuel for his nightmares. He doesn't even want to imagine what would've happened if you hadn't been able to speak loudly enough to wake him up.

"Caleb is a big spoon!!" people yell at me and I agree! However! If you want this man to have some peaceful sleep then the only way to achieve that is to have him laying on your chest where he can both listen to your steady heartbeat and feel your warmth as he holds you. Run your fingers through his hair and promise him you'll be right there when he wakes up to soothe his anxieties as much as possible and he might just sleep throughout the entire night.

Moving on to more sweet thoughts so we don't end on a bitter note— He has serious beef with the plushies you own, specifically the ones you hug to sleep. I mean, he's right here? Hello??? Why would you want to hug that fat ass bear of yours. If your plushie goes missing one day through suspicious means don't be sad because you can just cuddle him! He promises he'll behave this time!

Another silly thing is Caleb cannot keep his hands to himself when the two of you are sharing a bed. Literally. His hands have a will of their own and they must be touching you at all times in some way. That also means he will bother you by torturing tickling you non-stop until you're on the verge of tears. He loves the sound of your joyful laughter and how red your face gets while you try to escape the evil tickle monster so I'm afraid there's no way to get him to actually stop.

[gnohomotho]

May I play with you? 「✦Pt.4✦」

Pairing: The Salesman // The Recruiter x fem!reader Summary: I told you I wouldn't leave you hanging - the salesman, however...Oh, you thought one lost game was bad? You thought he'd let you off like that, his precious flower, his tender lady he won't admit, even to himself, he is deeply enthralled by to the point of obsession? So much so that he likely doesn't see the same rope around his own ankle as he pushes her over the edge? She isn't one to fall for a simple game, but can she keep up? ⭒˚.⋆˖➴༯ Warnings: We have a shower scene, folks, for I bring old men and tiddies and lots of rejoicing. No, seriously, harsh language, nakedness, intimacy, 18+ even if not smut yet, MDNI, undressing, grabbing, ordering, violence, descriptions of heavy physical touch. Inner monologues, trauma reactions, unacted but described scenes of dubious consent and/or heavy very bad implications. Word count: 6.6k A/N: You wouldn't believe how much time I spent on this and how much I am putting in the next chapter. ˙ᵕ˙ And how much I was trying not to imagine David Byrne in a big suit the whole time. Please excuse the delay, was swimming in not so nice things as a shower with this round-faced menace. (❀´ ˘ `❀) Gorgeous gif by: @phantom-evil Tag list: @storytellers-randomshortstorys @ingstadstarlight જ⁀➴ Link to previous Link to next Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ If you like my work, I cherish every like // reblog // follow // message - thank you for helping me boost visibility and writing! ♥

The hotel he took you to, though it took you a while and you stumbled more times than you could count, was dark. Once more, it looked half deserted. The sign was an upgrade – half the letters still managed to cough up light, shining red on the dark road around the entrance.  

Each time your vision went dark, and you steadied against a wall, a lamp post, anything to guide you – he didn’t help. He didn’t touch you. He merely observed as you gathered yourself, steadied yourself, and found resolve to push into your limbs and will them to walk.

Though it felt like punishment, you don’t think he’s that shallow nor that easily offended.

Nor that invested. This is so typical. So par on course. He’s just like all the others.

You noticed that the few people you passed stared but said nothing. A girl with blood on her face, blood and dirt on her barely hanging dress, stumbling around a tall man in a fine suit speckled with blood who walks as if ready to greet a political rival. Yet the one time you failed to adjust in time, the one time darkness enveloped your closing vision without a pocket of air, you opened your eyes to him gone.

A burning brush against each side of your hip, ready to steady you.

When you did gather stability, he walked to his usual distance, as if nothing happened. You hated him in that moment. Truly hated him. The spots were burning, and he made you feel…small. Ashamed. Needy. Weak.

“This way, little lady.”

He guided you through the door and you noticed the reception hall was empty.

Just as he did with the night sky, it seems his presence clouded and swallowed the atmosphere without a hint of effort. He wasn’t intruding, taking, blunt-forcing his way through – yet his presence, in its polite unassuming serenity, seemed to startle and stiffen the very air around him.

When you finally got up the stairs to a room, he let you walk in first, closing and locking the door behind you.

Yep. Here we go.

You get ready for your limbs to lose the rest of their feeling, your head to cloud, and your mind to simply float off until he’s done. You’re used to that. You can work with that.

Do your worst.   

The salesman walks to the window and the small balcony connecting all other rooms in the row. With one elegant motion he opens the curtains and the moon gazes back at you, surrounded by stars.

Did he…do that for me?

You shake the thought away. Of course not. He couldn’t care less what you were gazing at on the ground of the alley.

You sit in a soft chair and note the pain, dulled but very present, shooting through each bruise. You do not wish to count nor examine the damage. You simply sit, hands in your lap, gazing in his direction and trying to focus on the soft sickle shape in the sky.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

Your whisper broke the silence and felt like a transgression.

He turns around, eyes calm, expression ever jovial.

“I want to tend to my flower. And see how far she can go without using that pesky poison. As useful as it seems, as it was, as it is...it seems to get in the way.”

You’re not sure what he’s trying to get at and both options sting.

“My little flower, try to keep up.”

The fact that he noticed your momentary loss in thought rivals your own hypervigilance. You almost instantaneously centre back on him, unaware that you directly obeyed with not a hint of doubt.

And of course.

He noticed, you notice he noticed – though the expression remains the same mask, his dominant hand flutters, as if his fingers were about to catch a moth before it finds a flame. Your eyes try so very hard to focus on the sky, yet his round, unassuming face underlined with a large hand’s pulsation outshines the little shape you’re hanging onto. And his voice does nothing to sooth nor help you on the matter.

“Flower, flower, so faint against the pale moonlight…I did say I wanted to play a game. And we didn’t finish our last one…” his face contorts into a small frown as he moves closer to you, soundlessly, the carpet swallowing his deliberate steps; he seems to move like the air makes way for him in soft streams of silence. You flinch as he enters your proximity, his expression almost comically unfitting the situation. It’s as if he wordlessly forces the atmosphere to freeze.

“…And I have so much in mind for my tender flower.”

His face stops too close to yours. Those eyes are grabbing at your vision, appropriating each of your senses without effort. Your breath doesn’t quite catch up as you hear his last words:

“Choose a game for her.”

It wasn’t an order. Yet you had no choice.

Mine for the night, to do with as I please.

❥❥❥

A secret for a secret.

As the salesman sat on a chair opposing you at a slight degree angle, he laid his briefcase on the table and leaned to you, arms resting on his knees, trousers pulled up just enough to unveil his ankles. It reminded you of each time he sat next to you at the station. The nonchalance of back then in contrast to the stakes now made you grow colder.

I began to trust him, each time at the station, as he sat there, smiling. Never overstepping. My shameful certitude. Now look at me. Now fucking look at me.

The bruises burnt, your head was a sharp paralyzed freezing bundle of shivers, and your hands, nestled and intertwined through every finger on your lap, gave it away quite easily. Only now do you realise your tights have been torn and your mind wanders too far before you can catch it.

Please snap out of it, Y/N, Y/N, snap snap snap. Don’t make him angry. Don’t fall over. Focus on the moon. Your sister needs you. Snap out of it.

You didn’t meet his gaze, knowing whatever ground you still had sliding from under your feet would be on its merry way immediately. And from the corner of your eye, you saw him go through slight amusement, to indifference, to…still disquiet.

Just as a lake goes placid when the predator dives in waiting. Not a fish nor a ripple. Composure in transience.

The way the corners of his mouth imperceptibly twitched, as if glitching in their plastic poise. No matter, they smoothed right over with a soft smile as he zoned in on you.

“The one who tells the better secret wins.”

“What do they win?”

“A favour.”

“That’s hardly a game, is it?”

“A game is what you make it, little lady. It’s not about the pieces…it’s about the players.”

“Why would I want to know anything about you?”

He momentarily turns to the moon you’ve been gazing at and speaks in the same direction as you.

He seems so skilled at swallowing your every thought, movement, wish; mirroring, noticing each thing about you and either using it or keeping it as collateral.

Once more his pleasant hum circles your ears, and you gaze at the soft sickle too. Though now you look at the back of his head, and his body – knowing he cannot see you do so – and try not to shudder. The suit is roughed up, yet his poise repairs each tear. His posture is confident, yet playfully relaxed. But that neck and head…are tense. Tense with anticipation and things you glimpsed in those charcoal eyes you do not wish to see come out.

“Sometimes…knowledge can protect you from things that go bump in the night, tender flower. Things that…” he slowly turns his head to you, a single hand leaving his knee to hover above your little palm temple, “…one cannot touch until one knows their shape.”

As he concludes the sentence, a single finger lands on your knuckle and your eyes inadvertently meet his. They snatch you and hold, the connection and touch burning through you, becoming one with whatever darkness swims in those eyes, threatening to pull you into the depths of their lurking depravity.

The detective was right. And I can feel his body coiling around me. I can’t move.

A shaky breath, but you do not break contact nor pull away. Gazing straight into those eyes, you cock your head to the side slowly and mouth:

“Once more…good sir…what happens to the one who loses?”

Just as a one-way mirror, he mimics your tilt, and his close-lipped smile grows. Leaning into you, so close his face shields the moon and stars, he whispers as his finger slowly circles your knuckle and moves up your hand:

“They owe a bigger favour.”

Now you pull away. Heart beating so fast your lip shivers in tune.

“That doesn’t make sense. What happens to the one who loses the game?”

He retracts his touch, expression unfading.

“They become indebted to the winner until their debt is paid in full.”

It’s better than strip poker, you think, trying to lighten a terribly dark situation. Mostly because we have roughly two and a half layers and have never played poker before.

“Alright. Go ahead. Tell me a secret.”

The salesman almost scoffs, ever polite.

“The little flower is giving orders now? Even as I hold the shears? Amusing…” You didn’t get time to move, to think, just as a viper strikes from its nest, the salesman’s hand shoots to your face, grabbing you easily into his palm, just as before. But this time, he forcibly turns your head to him, leaving no means of escaping his eyes. He looks down at your hands, still almost calmly resting in each other, your posture, which didn’t change. A glint of genuine endeared surprise flashes across his face, but he says nothing.

In his palm, he slowly turns your head, as if testing, testing how much he can move, how much he can force. You feel your head lull in his grip, and you close your eyes.

Sinking into him even as the pain envelops your jaw.

Funny how his harsh touch somehow pulls things away from your own pounding head, like a strong current pulling at a thousand rivers and letting them pool into him. Away from you.

Peace.

“Little lady, little lady…truly a wonder you are.”

You smile as you rest your head, he doesn’t know you’re a player with cards hidden all over your body, he doesn’t know he’s playing with a fire that has learnt to burn on ice.

❥❥❥

He poured you both a drink. You do not partake. Slowly his lips move as he rests a finger against his temple, studiously. The contrast of the still ragged hand and ever-present veins against the smooth round face plays into the sense of wrong. He curls the words on his tongue:

"I've taken the liberty of speaking to your colleague."

Speaking. To my. Colleague.

He's dead.

You know better than to ask a question. That's not a big secret. All you have to do is play a better one.

"A detective has taken the liberty of speaking to me."

A small inflected 'hmmm' fills the silence. Interesting, but not quite.

"That's no secret to me, little lady. Try again."

What? How does he know? Of course he does.

As your hair falls gently, in a feeble attempt to shield your face and caress your skin, you try once more.

"I haven't told anyone about you."

That was supposed to be the secret. But the real one slipped through just after, in a voice that was truly genuine and small:

"I should have. I should have listened."

Your voice trails off as the regret fades into a shade of shade.

"Adequate. Such a fast learner." The salesman gets up and lays a hand on his briefcase. Your mind, back to its own resources, begins to worry and once more...only blanks.

"Though it is wise to keep your cards to your chest, I must say – mine was the better secret, lovely lady. As you can gather yourself if I know anything about that pretty head of yours." Bending to you, he almost coos with that overdrawn little frown in feigned pity:

"That poor little head of yours that's taken such a nasty beating in the last few days alone. No wonder it falls into my hand like a little bird crying for its mother’s warmth."

The way he seems to momentarily freeze, the manner in which no movement, no matter how theatrical, isn't overdrawn...Calculated. He's too calculated, even in play.

"Now," he stops once more and slowly eyes you from foot to eyes, "be a good girl for me and slide down the other strap. I find it harrowing to watch one torn apart while the other holds onto your skin for dear life. So unfair. So very...uneven."

Not when it should be his hand tearing at your skin in its place, you think the rest of his sentence for him.

You do as he says, and the dress falls down slightly, catching itself around your breasts in a soft little heap and you thank every single deity for the luck alone. But looking up at the salesman, his eyes. You know that expression. You feel it in your thighs.

Excitement.

As he watches your neck, your collarbones, your skin glint against the darkened room, you suddenly don't think you thanked the right Gods. He's not like the others. He's not at all like the others. Please, let him be like the others. This is torture.

"Will you let me tend to you, just a little bit? I cannot bear to see you like this." That frown is working overtime. He gets up, but before the tip of his shoe reaches the space between your huddling feet...

You almost laugh. Truly laugh. He overplayed his hand quite terribly here.

"No."

"No?" The salesman lengthens the word back to you, inflection playful as it kisses his lips like honey, his demeanour delineating anything but.

His slow expression morphs into that of cold discontent hidden behind a small frozen smile. Face unmoving, except for the eyes – zoning and pointed straight at you. You expect to be hit, to be grabbed, to be shouted at, to be hurt – anything of the kind; you know that expression, you know that intonation. But you try, you put every molecule of effort left into keeping yourself together and breathe a small breath before continuing.

"No. You haven't earned another favour yet. Pardon me. But. That's not how the game works."

One more inhale as you ready to continue, though your hands are positively vibrating, we can do this. He's bound with the same rope as me, the same rules.

"No fun in a game with broken rules. No fun in taking what feels so much better given. I recall you saying...you prefer your games fair, good sir. And I would truly not wish to aid you in your own disappointment."

You blink at him slowly, tired but sharp eyes mirroring his glassy pools and his half-robotic, half-laissez faire movements.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking of ways to hurt me, in detail. You're thinking you could be done with it, and pluck the flower. Leaf by leaf, petal by petal.

You're thinking of making this face cry and beg and contort as you hush it to placidity and break it again. You're thinking of those hands on this body, taking, breaking, feasting, strangling sound away and invading every inch I have left to myself.

You're thinking there's nothing stopping you, and that I deserve it for being so insolent.

But you respect the game, and you relish people giving themselves to you, tying their own rope around their leg and sauntering over the edge. That's what you love. That's what drives you mad.

Whether it was true or not, it did stop the salesman in his tracks. The tall figure momentarily merely circled the table, turning his back to you, a small chuckle as dry as a bone escaping his lips as he gazed at the moon.

"How very kind of you to think of me and my enjoyment, little lady."

He circles the table back to you and leans against each side of the armchair you're sitting in, large hands gripping the fabric hard enough to leave indentations. His face is so close to yours you can feel his breath on your cheeks, his cologne invading your senses, his elevated heartbeat going through his neck as the vein pulsates; his neck craned straight into you. Almost erratic in his overall calmness, the salesman smiles the sweetest of smiles and leans there, simply watching you for far too long, before replying in a tone that could convey a death sentence:

"I'll make sure to return the favour. Nothing less for such kindness."

As if he said nothing at all, he pulls away, and you note the handprints in the chair. You try very hard not to think of the state your flesh would be in if he got the chance.

So you do what seems logical as you try to gather what remains of your cracked brain. Continue the game.

"I lied to you. You asked me if I won. I said I obviously didn't. But I did. I did win. I felt something. I felt something and I could have died, if you didn't come. I felt peace. I wished the man would kill me, and I felt something other than cold. Fire. Comeuppance. Life in my fingers. My limbs were mine. The fight was mine. And my own death was mine. So. I won. That's my secret."

"You drive a hard bargain, Y/N."

Oh. Lost the little lady, have we?

"I've done something you wish you would have done, all those years ago."

A single finger glides under your chin, not quite touching yet. No, instead, he inches so close to you that his forehead gently nudges your own and simply pushes into you, your faces so close they could kiss. He lulls with your head, playfully, as if enjoying himself in the caress, the reciprocal motion, and one of his hands finds your knee, gliding up slowly against your thigh, lifting your dress as it goes up. The hand grips your flesh, and you hear his breath grow rapid. The words ring in your ears and your own breath stops.

"I killed my father."

❥❥❥

And just like that.

Gone.

You.

The hand.

The room.

Gone.

One two three.

Between a garbled mess of thoughts and senses gliding through your body never touching consciousness, you realise he pulled away without a sound and you slowly, ever-so-slowly feel your shoulders sink into the chair. Your back gets enveloped in the fabric and collapses, as if it pulled out each and every organ and left you hollow. Your eyes don’t look for nor see the moon.

Every word of each thought flung against your brain’s wall is a scream and an echo. Signifying nothing.

Limbs. Gone. Mind. Barely there. Hands. Still. Numb. Ice.

You’ve grown so cold.

Somewhere between, you notice he doesn’t move either. So still. Calculating. The urge. Subdued? The act. A play? You're tired. You're so very tired but your eyes refuse to blink.

How does he know? What does he know? I’ve lost, I’m lost, I can’t…think.

All your energy goes to keeping a door in your mind shut, even as every ghost and spectre claws under, through, over, around. You don’t even shiver. Just stare. Just stare ahead. At nothing.

An echo bathed in quiet yet staunch authority slithers in.

“Little flower, did I not say the poison gets in the way? It’s going to hurt you before it traces me...Y/N.”

Echo of an echo, but two words get through the increasing static buzz.

“Get up.”

Not quite an order. Voice soft. False pity. False care. He’s playing, so satisfied with his win. Your mind is reverberating. Thigh burning but frozen. Everything is a tad too much.

Where is the rain? Why can’t you take your skin off? Why won’t they all just leave you alone?! Why do they break, break, break and twist, and leave you a husk, all for their disgusting little games…Please hold me together, please don’t touch me, please hold me together, please never touch me again.

Softer, far softer:

“…So I may tend to you.”

You don’t register the last part, but you get up. Or, your body gets up with your explicit instruction, you might as well be piloting a robot. You follow his figure where it leads and the scenery fades onto itself, folding shadows from the only dim light in the middle of the room resting on their length and falsity.

❥❥❥

The shower hissed slowly as he turned the knob.

Sounds seem so...cut up.

You didn't say a word as he stepped inside with you.

The fact that he was fully clothed and you, in your barely hanging dress and torn tights, didn’t seem to phase him.

The sudden warmth enveloping your skin makes you jump, and as the gradually heavier fabric kisses your skin and clings, the fog starts lifting just a tad. Warmth.

Warmth.

Your back is to him, and you hear the water drip against heavy material, swallowed like the atmosphere around him, like the steps in the carpet.

You feel your arms, your chest, your collarbones – they all gain an inkling of themselves back and sting at once as the hot blanket slides across them washing the dirt and memories away.

You expect the worst, even in the back of your mind. Taking his prize.

Yet from behind you, you see a hand, upturned – sleeve slowly getting soaked – glide along your side almost brushing your elbow. It guides itself slowly towards your wrist.

His fingers find and gently, lightly, envelop it in a soft but steady hold. You see your hand turn in his on its own accord, a delicate cold object in a large warm palm. Inspecting it with touch, as if it were a delicate artifact. You feel no force, yet you twitch and almost pull away. His thumb brushes against the inside of your wrist in reply, slowly, deliberately.

Reassuringly.

For a moment, he only holds his thumb against your pulse and nothing but the drips and hiss of water, along with his warm inspecting touch enter your brain. Your wrist slowly rests in his grip, and he circles the inside of your forearm, returning slowly to your wrist once more. A small but visible shudder runs through you as his touch traverses your naked skin and you nearly step back. Step into him.

You would almost forget your skin is burning. Almost. Still too far away, still locked away, still barely feeling anything between pain, burning, and nothing.

Nothing but that little bastion of warmth from a serpent's belly.

As he moves, he finds one of the bruises, painted on the inside of your forearm. Dark ink staining now reddening wet velvet. You hear what you must have imagined – an exhale so close to your head he must be one teeter away from you. Just one movement away from his entire body enveloping yours. Swallowing you.

“Does it hurt?” He murmurs, his voice a low hush sliding on the falling water and brushing your ear.

“Should it?” You barely whisper, unable to comprehend how he got through.

The salesman doesn’t reply. Though his fingers start tracing your palm, your lifelines, softly gliding up and along them, never grabbing.

Not…teasing…he's...

Feeling.

Suddenly, you sense his hand leave you, and you…want to flinch, flinch into him, the place he touched loses life and find its isolating cold once more.

You huddle against yourself under the shower and let it try to wash everything away. Its warmth is doing its best, but it's not the same. Your own skin against your body doesn't work. It just makes you aware of the plastic and the dead limbs holding you together.

But he's not done with you. Of course he's not done with you.

Touch.

You feel touch as his fingers slowly but deliberately slide into your hair. A sweet smell envelops your senses and you pull away just slightly from subdued surprise – but he doesn’t retract his touch. Instead, he very subtly but with not a hint of relenting leans you into his palms, softly circling strands of hair from your scalp and gliding through from top to bottom, side to side in lazy deliberate motion.

The salesman tips your head into him, and you know you’re so close to his chest you could feel his heart if you just leaned back a little further. A small gentle thought of not wishing to stain his suit brushes your mind, but you let your head lean into him.

His fingers slowly, deliberately massage your scalp and your breath catches in your throat – the act sincerely disarming you – and he only continues. Each circle another layer of armour crumpling and washing away. Each caress and stream of water another huddled ember of warmth at your feet.

Why is he doing this? Why is he not doing what he should be doing? Why is he being…caring?

As the salesman guided his fingers towards the top of your head, circling, caressing through strands of hair from the top of your nape to the very tip of your head and around your temples, sending little bouts of electricity through your numb body, his sleeve brushed against your now bare shoulders. And you felt it.

You feel the warm, damp fabric against your skin and your breath catches itself again, heart unable to keep up.

In one movement, your dominant hand shoots up to steady itself against his forearm. Before you realise what happened, you are gripping the fabric, the skin, wrapping around the stability of the man tending to you. Not from weakness. Not because you’re about to faint. But because he’s not taking.

He’s making you feel.

And you cannot hold the weight of that knowledge and yourself at the same time.

You stay like that, frozen, grabbing his forearm, his hands still softly laid in your hair. Wordlessly, you try to let go, but he does not move nor let you – instead helping you turn around so very slowly, still making sure you’re holding on, until the very moment you are face to face.

Your eyes manage to travel from his soaked chest to his left shoulder, to his right, to his strong neck outlined by wet shimmer, until they meet the lower half of his face. Slowly you look up.

The salesman's arm is letting the steady streams gather on his face as he gazes at you, unblinking. The droplets run from where his unflinching hand rests upon your head nestled in the side of your hair. They run from you, all the way down his soaked suit to his shoulder. The raised gripped arm lets the warm water gather and run to his cheek, to his chin and down his soaked through clinging shirt.

Your barely open lips quiver, even in the warmth.

You realise you are too close, far too close, now connected by the same warmth and the same water – you breathe in the reverberations of the salesman's own body, the slight quiver of his jaw as the drops fall.

His hot breath kisses your skin even as the steam from the shower envelops you both – and as you feel drops of water glide from the tip of your nose down to your chin, all the way down your neck, along your collarbones until the moment they catch in the hollow of your throat as you try to swallow....

Your heart beats straight through your neck upon seeing the salesman’s eyes slowly, meticulously follow each of their trajectories, from beginning to their very end, expression unfading.

Eyes so sharp their depths swallow you whole.

And as if a timer reset, he continues his motions as if nothing were out of the ordinary, merely using his other hand to wash the rest of your hair. It must look like the two of you are frozen in a dance. You tilt your head back just a tad and let the water carry everything away as it pools around your feet.

Before your eyes close entirely to nought but warmth, touch, and falling water gliding through your hair, you notice, just as you fully unveiled your neck and your shoulders in the tilt. As you lay your entire nape bare before him, the fingers massaging your hair make the same movement as they did when you obeyed.

They twitch and freeze.

A harsh flutter, as if trying to catch a moth before it flies into a flame and an almost unnoticeable pull as he loosens your strands into the soft current below.

“You’re shivering,” he whispers.

The hum of the shower swallows your words, but you know they reached him.

“So are you,” you hush.

❥❥❥

The suit, soaked, the fabric, close against you somehow made him…more tangible. Gave him shape, weight, an outline. The way his clothes clung to his body, the feeling of darkened heavy fabric brushing against your skin as he moved…it was as if he placed a solid barrier between you.

Solid, stable, warm.

Cruel.

You let go of his arm and as you do, you let go of the grounding presence keeping you straight.

In a moment, your body reacts first, as does his – you stumble, and his hand shoots to the small of your back, your chest and waist firmly pressed against his, and in one split second, your hips are cradling against each other in soaked entirely. You feel everything. You feel.

Everything.

You want to cup his head and let the droplets run along your arms all the way to your slowly exposing chest. You want him to cup yours. You want him to hold you, ground you, grip you and let you melt into him as you are, body pushed against body and water running through you only washing away any barriers there might be. Like a veil, all as one under it.

Safe.

You want him to hurt you, grab you, prove he's just like the others and let him be discarded in the same pile, the same nondescript hollow nothingness you've felt until he touched you.

Safer.

You want him gone, you want the entire evening gone and wiped from memory, you want to run.

Saved.

And yet, your feet stay in place and your body leans into him, the hot, heavy fabric and his body only a few layers from yours teaming with heat through every one of them.

The salesman's reverberating breaths vibrate through you, your shivers reply, your shallow breath against his warm exhales on your naked skin becoming one and the same under the stream.

Wordlessly, he closes his eyes and smiles, almost wistfully. As if lost in fond memory of a losing battle.

You know that smile. It's one of yours.

But you can see his breathing is fast, his demeanour anything but collected. His heart is…beating into you.

As you steady your breath, you feel the salesman’s forehead softly press into yours, closing the last avenue of distance between the two of you. For a moment, he remains like that, tenderly pushing into you.

Pushing into your forehead so that even the water has to run around your shared touch.

Before you stop yourself, your chin tilts up – are you trying to get hurt or is there another reason for something so dangerous?

You don’t know. You don’t wish to know. All you know is, your chin tilted up and your lips carry the unspoken gamble.

And he pulls away.

❥❥❥

He pulls away and you see through half-lidded eyes how very wrong you were.

So very, very wrong.

You offered something.

For free.

He didn’t need to take. He didn’t need to win. And your small movement was the equivalent of letting your wrist grow limp with a full hand of cards.

The face with sharp charcoal eyes, gazing through both you and the water, lifts a small, almost sad smile before curling into an expression you know so well. It twists more and you’re harshly reminded of the snake coiling around you.

Up your legs, up your waist, firmly resting around your chest. All it needs is a push and your breath is his.

As if the realisation isn't torture enough, his clear voice cuts through the wet hum.

“A new rule, little lady.”

The shower fails to wash away the slickness and the clarity of his voice reverberating through your brain, that almost teasing nature – and against every wish in you, it hurts.

You try to steady yourself and not give away that it hurts like a cut, like a cut with a knife made of ice and lead wherever the serpent laid its body. You do not wish to lean against the wall, that would drive you to lose everything as the door of your mind would burst open and each spectre would walk straight through.

But you cannot remain steady like this.

He’s still playing. And you’re losing. Both yourself and the game.

Or are you one and the same to him?  

“No flinching.”

“Oh?” You try to hum with the shower, attempting to sound as nonchalant as the dripping water.

“If you react, you lose.” The salesman simply states the matter as if laying down a card, studying you, putting you together and pulling you apart like a puzzle he cannot help but play to solve – and he doesn’t have to move a muscle to do so.

Undoing and putting together, gladly lifting each piece to study it under his meticulous gaze.

You don’t have to have nearly half your faculties to know this is a trap.

What you don’t know is what exactly he is testing here.

You don’t get time to ponder that as you feel his palm slowly lift, cuffs dripping, and ghost against the side of your throat – the side you know hurts, the side that was gripped and flung around. His lips purse into feigned pity and a tone too close to adoration.

“So very harsh for such a gentle flower...My dear little flower. To stain her like that. To crush such a tender stem. So incredibly...unbecoming.”

The palm traces the outline of the pain, and the water seems to burn even more. You see his eyes dart to yours, then back to your throat. His hand closes the distance and applies the barest of pressure.

Resting there. Letting the water wash over you and then over him like a little river down your neck.

And you don’t react. You don’t move a muscle.

Challenging a stone-cold body to react?

Challenging a lethal flower to stay still when that is her primary defence? Oh, but he likes a challenge. You do not shiver as you remember.

He truly loves a challenge.

His hand glides down, knuckles grazing the skin of your neck, until he goes further.

The salesman’s thumb follows the line of your collarbone, traversing the delicate slope of your shoulder before slipping down the inside of your wrist once more. The water isn’t enough of a barrier, it seems to carry the electricity to that one spot where his touch had been before. The familiarity, the pain of the bruise, your heart leaping – an unmistakable little stop and resume of your breath barely escapes your open lips.

The salesman visibly smirks, not retracting his touch. A slow tilt of the head and a voice like cyanide honey:

“That was a flinch.”

“It was not.”

“That was a lie.”

He leans into you, just close enough for you to feel his hot breath tickle your ear.

“Should I go slower?”

❥❥❥

No, screw this, I’m not getting outplayed by a wet mannequin.

You don’t answer. You only very deliberately, as unshakingly as is possible, lift your arm and lay a single, deliberate palm against his soaked suit, his heavy shirt, right over his heart.

The reverberations in your palm beat steady, and you do not smile – not giving him an inch – but that pulse is not calm.

Your lips curl into the smallest of sounds, swallowed by the soft water droplets carrying your voice to him in small pieces.

“You’re playing too, aren’t you?”

You feel him grow still, so still the water bears more life than him.

“No.”

You tilt your head to the other side, not letting him be a one-way mirror anymore.

“That was a lie.”

The hand moves from your wrist and a guiding touch rests around the air of your nape. As if ready to grab, to strangle, to force – but he merely brushes a fingertip against the side of your neck and lets the droplets trickle down. His palm is outstretched, but unmoving.

You could pull away. You could stay still. You could command your fluttering heart and subdued fear of that palm easily circling your breath and squeezing life away – but you don’t.

No.

You tilt your head forward ever so slightly, just enough.

And you feel his fingers tighten just a fraction. An unmistakable second of a ghost of a grip around each side of your neck, warm palm against your beating throat.

I could ruin you if I wanted to, but I won’t – is that what he’s thinking? Or was it unwitting, reflex? Need? Either way…

“You’re letting me win, little lady,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, something slightly darker sliding in with his usual nonchalance.

You exhale a laugh, but there is no humour nor amusement in it.

“You haven’t won anything.”

I sacrificed my queen to pull you down with me.

You retract your touch as if to underline your words:

“You haven’t won anything.”

That darkness, that lingering depravity you know lurks in him gazes back at you, before a small hint of genuine amusement curls the salesman’s expression into a gallant smile.

“You’re learning so fast, little flower. You’re making me so proud.”

You blink and feel the shower cannot be to blame for your cheeks flushing. For a small second you cannot see through the drips on your eyelashes, but you can feel.

And he doesn’t let you go, oh no, he doesn’t let an object of such heavy interest out of his grasp.

“Now, let me revere you.”

As the last words sooth the water running down your skin, so do both his hands move to each of your upper arms. First, gripping each side of your barely hanging dress between his thumb and index finger, the white fabric now soaked through and copying your every centimetre to glisten before him like a benediction.

And he does something you would never imagine, never bet on, and never even think to think.

He slowly slides the dress down your body, inch by inch, gliding on the water’s current. You feel the fabric grate against your skin, unveiling cold, then sudden sharp warmth and burning sensations where you stand exposed. Droplets softly kissing each new area of exposed skin.

As he reaches your forearms, he gently lifts the straps so they avoid each bruise, and carefully untangles the white fabric from your wrists without you having to move. Not losing an inch of his touch, not for a moment letting you go without it, the salesman then lays a large hand on each side of your waist and in one, slow motion, pulls the entire dress down into the water at your feet following its trajectory as he does. You don’t react. You cannot react. You are almost entirely naked before him, water your only barrier, and he…

He is kneeling before you.

❥❥❥

[khaoala]

Lore request number 1847389291 (sorry I've been asking so much lmao new som som trying my best to catch up) what happened at firsts graduation I saw that hug and that kt almost didn't go but no details help? Pls?

anon, first of all, feel free to send fk lore questions whenever you like. i'll try to give as much context as i can, and people also add things in, and it's a blast, i love when these come in.

second of all, i'm so very glad you're making me talk about first's graduation. it's probably one of my favorite firstkhao moments.

first's graduation (he has a bachelor's degree in cyber business management and graduated with honors, he's that guy) happened on december 15, 2021, so two weeks after the announcement of the eclipse during gmmtv 2022. this event is what we (or at least i do) like to call "the event that inspired the plot of our skyy 2 x the eclipse" because it's basically what happened 😏😏

as you can imagine, graduating is a very important moment and in thailand they do this thing a lot of holding fan gatherings when an artist graduates and many of their friends come to congratulate them too (like when earth, firstkhao and arm went to mix's graduation last year).

first had a lot people over to see him. besides his family members, ofc, first's favorite bruda (tay tawan) attended, gawin, ciize, louis, love, nanon and many many others.

but khaotung, being the rascal that he is, told first that something came up and that he wouldn't be able to attend first's graduation which made first properly sulky. i'm not even kidding. they were all using masks ofc because 2021, covid, all that shit, but we know mr. kanaphan to have amazingly expressive eyes and baby boy looked so sad and pouty because his best friend said he wouldn't attend (tumblr doesn't let me post more than one video, but i'll link you to the videos and the graduation tag so you can check out his contained tantrum in the end of this post).

at some point when ciize (who is the founder of this fandom, may i add, since when they were just a ghostship, she was already in the trenches) approached first, and he was talking in the phone with khaotung and first offered her the phone and she asked "what did you do to make him so angry, khaotung?!"

ofc khaotung was just joking and ofc he wouldn't miss his best friend's graduation. he showed up and i kid you not, it was like first's sunny disposition came back to him in a blink. ofc, he was still annoyed bc khaotung fooled him and there were many instances where it looked like he was going to hit khaotung, but khaotung knows his baby bestie and stayed by his side all the time. there were a few moments when first would be talking to other people but his hand would stay around khaotung (there's one particular video of them talking to what i believe is one of the staff, and while first's eyes are on them, he keeps caressing khaotung's back absentmindedly because the next thing we assume happens is that first scolded khaotung - again - for pranking him).

khaotung was having a blast that day playing around with first. and first was also trying to look nonchalant at some point which was so adorable. you know how in the end of our skyy 2, after ayan's surprise to akk and how he says, "i told you i loved seeing you get pranked. when you make an angry face, you look so… (cute)". that is firstkhaotung during first's graduation.

you can search the tag #FirstkpGraduation on twitter where you'll find many more videos and pictures and here's the links to some of my favorite videos since i can't post them here:

[ link one ] [ link two ] [ link three ] [ link four ] [ link five ] [ link six ]

[kiyo-cant-write]

Same Cinderella-anon, just with more ideas I forgot to add in the first ask! maybe with reader being Trein's grandchild, having to go to NRC because he needs something and asked reader to bring it to him and Silver and reader being surprised at seeing each other again idk. anyways, have a good day and thanks in advance again!

cinderella!reader is trein's grandchild ✧･ﾟ

Summary: The reader is actually Trein's grandchild. They visit NRC campus at their grandfather's instruction and run into Silver again.

TW/CW: This is a continuation of THIS POST, minor B7 spoilers

Notes: The reader is NOT Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader, pre-relationship, familial headcanons as well

Guest Stars: Divus Crewel, Sebek Zigvolt

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

It would seem Professor Trein needs some help that only his dearest grandchild can assist with. They attend Royal Sword Academy, and Professor Trein, or rather, Grandpa Mozus, would like access to some historical documents from the RSA library.

Can [Name] help him?

Surely they can. They love their grandfather.

And it would mean getting to visit the school across the island again.

.

.

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Mozus Trein

Trein is very protective of his grandchild.

If he seems stern in class, it doubles when his grandchild is there.

He has a complex relationship with [Name]'s parents due to the strained relationship he had with his daughter towards her entry into adulthood. They do not hate each other, though.

He loves them, but his love is firm and strict at times.

Gawking at his grandchild earns you detention.

The other staff are all familiar with [Name].

Trein talks about them and how one of the reasons he had looked into teaching at RSA was to be closer to them.

He was worried about them.

They are an innocent spirit who is too trusting, too accepting.

He is strict with them because he thinks they will get hurt.

The outside world is a scary place where grandpa can't protect them from the monsters out there, the bad apples...

When his grandchild visits, which happens sporadically but more often than one might imagine, Crewel is also tasked with looking over them. As per Trein's request (read: instruction).

Trein believes that his grandchild would be less embarrassed if it were not him at every turn checking on them. He trusts Crewel.

Sometimes, Trein thinks about leaving NRC to be with his grandchild, but he always decides to stay for his students.

Trein wishes that [Name] went to NRC, but they aren't the type the Dark Mirror would choose; they are a might magic user with a pure soul, after all. The very image of an RSA student.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver

Silver continued to think about [Name]. Who were they?

A student, but not from NRC. From RSA, then?

Why couldn't he forget them? What was this?

He chooses not to trouble his family with it.

He is nearly an adult; he can figure this out for himself.

That said, he didn't expect them to be related to Professor Trein.

Silver was not aware of the professor's personal life.

Why would he be?

It doesn't change his opinion of [Name] as a friendly person.

But he is more wary now. He has heard that Professor Trein is... protective. And he doesn't blame the professor.

But Silver does not want to bring any trouble to his Master.

Silver wonders if it is worth pursuing such a curiosity.

And then it happens, all because of the narrative.

Silver and [Name] have their SECOND Meet-Cute.

Silver can't say he expected things to turn out like this!

Silver was trying his best to ignore Sebek's words echoing in his head. He should focus instead of daydream about a stranger. Sebek was right about that much, but that didn't mean ignoring every other living person on his island. He was his Master's guard, but he was also a student, and students should engage with the community or something like that.

He sighed softly, and he continued down the hall, making the mistake of not looking ahead of him and crashing into the person ahead of him. While no one was injured, it did leave the load they were carrying scattered across the hallway floor.

"I'm sorry..." Silver said, "Let me help with that."

He reached down to pick up one of the large textbooks from the floor, hand brushing against theirs. Silver looked toward them to see... [Name]? The same person from before? The very person he had been thinking of. Was this some kind of fateful encounter? Others had mentioned these to him... He could think about that later.

"Hello again. I am sorry to... cause this."

He looked almost sheepish as they waved it off, trying to tell him that there wasn't any harm done to them or their books. Regardless, Silver helped them gather the books into their arms again, taking a few to carry himself so that [Name] could see what was ahead of them.

"It's really alright. I couldn't see over the books either."

They look a bit embarrassed.

"[Name]... Why do you have," Silver paused to count them, "...twelve textbooks?"

Their embarrassment grew as an awkward smile graced their lips.

"My Granpa Mozus wanted me to bring these over from Royal Sword," they explained, "So I came here with the Headmage's permission to deliver... all of these."

Though their arms were still filled with books, they managed to make a gesture toward the books Silver carried for them.

He nodded.

"I understand. I will help you take these to your grandfather."

[Name] wondered if Silver was aware of what their grandfather was. If he knew, he certainly didn't act that way. He said nothing. It was almost refreshing to them to not have a grand reaction about it all.

That said, [Name] noted that the louder boy who was with Silver the last time was not here. He seemed as though he might react if [Name] told him their lineage. What was his name again? Sebastian?

They brushed the thought away and continued to walk down the hallway with Silver, headed toward the classroom their grandfather had said was his. He was a history teacher.

Stopping at the door, Silver knocked instead of [Name] simply due to the fact that he could support his stack of books with one arm. This was something that [Name] was trying not to gawk at. This boy sure was strong, then and again, his arms were rather strong-looking.

Did he not say he worked for his "master" the last time?

They were thinking about it again. There wasn't anyone like that at Royal Sword. Sure, some students helped the dorm leaders... But that wasn't... master and servant? Right? [Name] felt their head spin.

A voice came from inside the room, but it was not their grandfather's. It was a masculine one, slightly teasing as if testing them...

"Whatever might you need from us now?"

[Name] recognized it as Divus' voice, the younger man, though he was still older than them, who worked with their grandfather. He was a teacher, too. Alchemy?

Wait.

Were they interrupting something?

"It's [Name]!" they called back to Divus, "Oh, and Silver is helping me."

"Alright then, pups. You may enter~"

[Name] walked into the room as Silver opened the door for them with his free hand. Instantly [Name] was greeted with the classroom their grandfather used, wooden desks, a chalk board, books on a shelf, and her dear grandpa sitting at his own desk front and center.

Divus had stepped back to let them get to the desk.

"Grandpa Mozus!" [Name] called, walking forward to set the books on his desk, "I got all the things you sent for!"

They smiled, an expression that Trein returned.

Silver's face paled slightly at the sudden realization; the boy always was a bit slow on the uptake with human relations that Professor Trein was "Grandpa." But he recovered quickly as he presented the rest of the books to Trein.

"Here you go, sir."

"Ah, the books. Thank you, [Name]," Trein told his beloved grandchild, "And you as well, Silver, for helping them."

[Name] grinned, proud of the fact they had accomplished the task. The look on their face made Silver smile as well. This earned him a sharp glare from Trein, much sharper than his usual expression.

They stared at each other for a moment as [Name] looked between them, unsure if they were supposed to intervene given their grandpa was his teacher... It was well within his jurisdiction.

"I trust you would never do anything untoward to my grandchild, Silver?" Trein asked the light-haired boy.

"Of course not, sir."

Silver shook his head and ignored the chuckle from Professor Crewel.

"That is good to hear."

Trein's expression softened as he turned back to [Name].

"I hope this was not too arduous a task for my youngest?"

"No, this was alright. I hope the books help," [Name] told him, "Thank you for... trusting me."

They smiled yet again, and Trein returned it, just slightly.

Silver felt as though he was intruding on a personal moment. And maybe he was. He had been thinking about [Name], but he couldn't speak about that in front of Professor Trein.... [Name] was heading back to Royal Sword after this... What a mess.

He held back the urge to sigh.

Footsteps could be heard approaching.

Oh no... Silver knew that sound anywhere.

"SILVER!"

He sighed this time, and those in the room turned to look at the doorway. [Name] was startled, whereas the professors just seemed... tired. Perhaps a bit annoyed.

There stood Sebek, out of breath slightly with furrowed brows.

"Hello, Sebek..." Silver attempted to greet but was cut off.

"WHAT HAS YOU SO BUSY? WHAT IF OUR MASTER NEEDS US?"

Silver tried to explain it.

"I was helping... a friend."

Sebek glared at [Name], recognizing them.

"THIS HUMAN AGAIN?"

[Name] flinched at the volume, and Trein decided to step in.

"Sebek Zigvolt, you will not address my grandchild that way."

Sebel was startled at the address from his professor.

"Ah, my... my apologies, professor," Sebek stammered.

There really is never a peaceful day at Night Raven College.

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Imagine the rest yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[robin-evry]

From a request that I accidentally deleted it

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑!𝐘𝐔𝐔

A dragonrider was an individual who was able to bond with and mount a dragon, Dragon Riders are dragons and humans that share a bond, a special bond, a bond that binds one another to each individual's soul.

Dragon riders!yuu dragon is referred as their companion

During the ceremony their dragon was able to shrink and hid in the ceremonial robe when both of them realized they were somewhere else and believe they got kidnapped.

When grim was going off about himself they just stared at them unimpressed, and good thing that Crowley managed to enter and was able to continue the ceremony

After the ceremony was done and they were in the library with Crowley, dragon rider!yuu finally revealed their companion towards Crowley, he was surprised and amazed due to how dragons in twst.

After discussions, their dragon is gonna stay at the ramshackle to make sure no one would see them only the staff and grim would know about their companion existence.

Crowley was originally planning on using them as a way to boost and attract more people towards the school by welcoming a dragon riding sport but that was immediately shut down.

So it settles dragon rider!yuu would be at school attending as a student meanwhile their companion stays in the dorm, their companion was a little upset by this because they're gonna spend Less time with them as well It was forbidden to fly around due to the possibility of being spotted.

Dragon rider!yuu is very skillful at wielding weapons due to their training as well as hand to hand combat able to knock out or disharm someone with out troubles.

The first students besides grim to find out about their companion was ace when he knocked on the ramshackle dorm at the beginning of the chapter, so basically what happened was when everyone was asleep ace was woken up by the sound of clattering at the kitchen and decided to check it out.

And low and behold there's a dragon head in the refrigerator looking for food and it notices ace present and looks at his direction with a piece of steak that they found for their meal, Ace releases a scream that woken up everyone and when dragon rider!yuu and grim come down founding ace hyperventilating and their companion just straight up looking at him as if he's the weird one.

Grim straight went towards ace and tried to calm him down, meanwhile dragon rider!yuu take their companion towards somewhere else and when they are back they are immediately interrogated by him and manage to convince him to keep a secret.

During lunch when Lilia appears at the table, he gets close towards dragon rider!yuu and sniffing their clothing and dragon rider!yuu push him off asking what is he doing, he just smiled and teleported away with out saying goodbye.

Back at the dismonia table silver asked him why he did it and he replied with saying that dragon rider!yuu reeks of dragon scent theorizing that maybe dragon rider!yuu might be a dragon plus the recent sightings of a dragon flying around in nrc has been very popular.

Look yuus dragon love them and will to sacrifice themselves if there's any danger but their companion has been missing the sun lately and rarely goes flying so when at night they would casually sneak out and fly around and soon cause a rumor of a dragon being in nrc.

Malleus also happened to spot their companion in the sky and was curiously wondering why there was a dragon in the ramshackle dorm he waited for a few minutes hiding his presence and saw it flying back towards the ramshackle dorm and heading back inside.

So with this evidence the dismonia gang believe that dragon rider yuu might be a dragon disguising themselves as human. So during the following week Lilia would try to invite dragon rider!yuu to sit at their table to tell more of themselves which usually met with confusion and rejection, Malleus would wanna get closer towards them so he could get to know them better and every time when they come across sebek he would bow and greet them as well as many students in dismonia greeting them as if they were royalty which is something off putting for them.

Malleus has been magnitized by dragon rider!yuu for no reason, he would try to catch a glimpse towards dragon rider!yuu. Ace, deuce and grim would theorize why dismonia dorms have been acting like that around them as well about malleus grim see the cause due to dragon rider!yuu being around dragons with their life so they would have an aura to attract dragons.

And the secret wouldn't be revealed until chapter 4 when jamil kidnapped grim and their companion became very worried about dragon rider!yuu and during the final battle their companion burst in and blasted the lounge with fire not hitting grim, dragon rider yuu and octaniville.

Soon the secret of dragon rider!yuu being a dragon stop. But it didn't stop malleus and Lilia being curious about their companion asking to meet them, they would ask about how to take care of their companion the nutrition they need.

Many students have been curious as well about their companions always asking questions about them, cater would take pictures with them and post it online and get viral. Vil once asked dragon rider!yuu to borrow their dragon to shoot a movie with it since there's no editors on school ground plus it's cheaper.b

Dragon rider!yuu biggest admirer is rook seeing them being able to form a bond with a powerful mystical creature to the point of being soulmates ( platonic or romantic ) would bring tears towards his eyes would casually visit the ramshackle dorm and watch dragon rider!yuu and their companion bonding.

Not to mention Azul would try to get them to sign a contract to borrow their companion for profit but it was always shut down, Much to his disappointment and Floyd would try to squeeze their companion but jade would interrupt him. I like to imagine Floyd and their companion would play fighting while dragon rider!yuu and jade would question them about dragon anatomy.

I like to think Dragon rider!yuu is a care taker towards dragons so basically they are usually an expert at raising dragons so imagine if their companion ends up laying eggs, and of course if this happens Crowley have an idea of a dragon club activity for school basically taking care of dragon and if they are grown they would welcome a dragon game, students are able to pick a dragon and raise it.

As well calculating the profit he could make for the games as well beating RSA inventing a new game as well boosting NRC reputation as the best school. He is foaming and getting high on the idea.

And soon a stable was build to house the dragons and the only person that has the key is dragon rider!Yuu and staff, some troublemaker students tried to break in and end up being blasted out of the stable by their companion fire good thing they don't have any injuries.

As well dragon rider!yuu is able to speak and understand the dragon language so during their visit towards briar valley they surprise malleus grandma being able to speak ancient dragon language.