#might want to play around with how i write beginnings

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (VIII)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your conversation with Lady Galadriel makes you realise a very difficult truth about the nature of your relationship with Sauron. You wish to keep your dark secret from your husband but you are trying to make him realise that perhaps attacking Eregion might not be the best idea after all.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I could not wait to write this chapter from the very beginning the idea for this fic showed up in my head. Even though the Reader is not really talking much during the scene with Galadriel (it was never my intention for her to talk there much), the conversation she is witnessing makes her realise all the things that make her deeply uncomfortable and cause her whole life's purpose to shatter. 👌🏽👌🏻 This fic is slowly coming to an end, by the way.

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship

WORD COUNT — 6,900

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (VIII)

Everyone knew who Lady Galadriel was. Not just the Elves but nearly every being in Middle-earth, including the Orcs because she had slayed so many of them. In fact, you were sure that some Uruk mothers were telling their children scary stories about Lady Galadriel. Known for carrying so much light and beauty and yet so fiercely determined to purge Middle-earth from all filth. In a way, she reminded you of Sauron in this.

Lady Galadriel was everything you had wished to be back in the day – known, respected, beautiful beyond comparison. Back in the day when you had remained incorrupt by your lover, before you had begun to dream about becoming his terrific Queen and rule alongside him. Now you could not care less about her qualities because you had your own – very often contradicting hers.

You walked together with your husband amongst the Orcs as the night was slowly turning into a foggy day and you could already see Eregion from afar.

The sight alone was gut-twisting to you because you knew that your beloved was there – so close to you. Soon, you would be in his arms as his Queen. No more secrets, no more hiding, no more lies. 

But when you imagined that, your heart ached for the man walking by your side. What would happen to him then? You were certain Sauron wanted Adar dead but you… You did not.

You could never admit it to your lover, though. He was jealous and possessive. It would only make him want Adar’s death even more. And he had other reasons than you – his own revenge. The revenge you craved as well after all. Adar had been the one to take Sauron away from you by killing and humiliating him. He had his own reasons to do it, too, though. The situation between them was very delicate and difficult on many levels.

Your plan had been so easy at first – to play pretend and hand Adar out to Sauron on a silver plate. But your heart – not as rotten as you’d like it to be – kept complicating things.

“How well do you know Galadriel?” Your husband asked you and you turned your head around to raise an eyebrow.

“Not much personally. I have seen her a few times, talked to her twice maybe, except for the official affairs since I was a daughter of the Lord Guardian of The Southlands. But she mostly resided in the North, therefore there were never many occasions,” you explained. “Why?”

“I was only wondering if you might be useful when we negotiate with her,” Adar told you and you tilted your head.

“I have a feeling you hide something from me. Why did you even take her as a prisoner?” You furrowed your brows. “You promised me… You promised me that we would be equals and that you would tell me everything,” you reminded him.

Adar stopped walking for a moment and you stopped, too, staring at him and trying to show off your best hurt expression. The Orcs kept passing you by and glancing from the corners of their eyes when your husband extended his hand to hold yours.

“I have no secrets from you,” he assured you. “But I am so used to loneliness, I forget to share my thoughts often,” he admitted. “Galadriel might be our ally. She is after Sauron, is she not?” He asked and you nodded, squeezing his hand back.

“She devoted her life to fight him and other forces of darkness,” you replied. “But we are the very forces of darkness. What makes you think she is going to treat with us?”

“If she does not, we might use her. It is her who is our prisoner, not the other way around,” Adar smirked and pointed his chin in the direction where he wanted you to follow him – where some of the Orcs were already toying with Lady Galadriel, recently released out of her cage and the others were busy building a war camp for your army to reside.

When you approached them, you spotted Glûg holding his dagger close to Galadriel’s face. It suddenly made you realise how you truly became one of them – how it was nearly impossible to imagine any of the Orcs to ever turn against you the same way. From being scared of falling asleep around them, you walked confidently amongst them and you even dared to scold them sometimes as they would look down shyly.

In their eyes, you surely were no Elf anymore – not in the same way Galadriel was.

Adar stopped Glûg by putting his hand on the Orc’s arm and shaking his head as Glûg walked away, a little frustrated. Lady Galadriel’s beautiful, bright eyes found yours and she seemed to be pretty fascinated. Therefore, you straightened your back.

And after a very short while of holding each other’s gazes, she suddenly took out a dagger that had been hidden discreetly in her sleeve and pointed it at your husband. The Orcs around you groaned at that as they became alarmed and so did you – you let out a small yelp as your heart skipped a beat and your hand already grabbed the hilt of your sword. Even though you knew that you would never be an opponent worthy enough of her when it came to sword duels.

Galadriel turned around, moving Adar alongside her. And now her blade was pressed to his neck as Glûg jumped in front of you to cover you with his own body just in case.

Yes, you were definitely one of them now. Your light was all gone, your blood turned black and your skin turned cold. Valinor was awaiting you no more.

“I brought you here not as a prisoner…” Adar turned his face around to look at Galadriel as he spoke in the Sindarin language, “but as a potential ally for we share a common enemy.”

After a while of hesitation, Galadriel’s surprised eyes found yours behind Glûg. You nodded at her as if you were more trustworthy than your husband – in fact, you were less. But she did not know that and she still must have considered you to be sort of a friend. A friend enough to let go of Adar as the Orcs calmed down and you ran up to your husband to put your hands on his chest and cling to him, grateful that he was still in one piece. You knew how fierce Galadriel could be.

Adar caressed your back soothingly and you could feel her eyes on you, probably wondering about the nature of your relationship. 

“Lady Galadriel, please, feel yourself invited…” Adar pointed at the biggest tent that had already been there, waiting for you two to sleep in. “Let us talk,” he added and you watched her hesitantly go inside.

Your husband followed and you began walking right after when you felt a strong pull towards Eregion. You turned around rapidly and kept staring at the forest, knowing very well that behind them the city stood and inside the city there he was – Sauron. Looking out and sensing your presence, looking out for you. You smiled to yourself and focused all your will and might to let him know that you were close and you would be reunited soon.

And with a heart so full of love for him and a brand new inspiration to carry on with your plan, you finally joined Adar and Galadriel inside the tent.

They were sitting on the opposite sides of the table as some female Orcs were bringing you food. It was a small feast in a way and you knew it was Adar’s way to make Galadriel feel like your guest indeed. You took a seat next to him and put a small portion on your plate before beginning to eat it. Adar’s portion was much bigger than yours but Galadriel’s was none. Her plate remained empty and she just kept sitting there and staring at the two of you, which was awkward in a way but you tried to ignore her.

You wondered if Sauron knew about her. Was she also a part of his plan or was she an obstacle he had no idea of? You could not decide for yourself, therefore, for now, you decided to just sit there and observe how the situation would evolve.

Eventually, she just could not hold herself back no more as she addressed you.

“Lady (Y/N) of The Southlands… Your mother arrived in Lindon some time ago,” Galadriel spoke and you looked up at her, immediately. The mention of your mother made your heart clench.

“Then you must be surprised to see me,” you smirked, “for I have instructed her to speak of me as dead.”

“On the contrary,” Galadriel raised an eyebrow at you in a challenging manner and you furrowed your brows. “She has told the High King everything.”

You clenched your jaw and gritted your teeth, nervously looking at Adar but he only nodded at you to calm you down and soothe you.

“Then you know what treachery my father was capable of,” you answered, avoiding her gaze. You did not want her to see the betrayal you felt after your mother’s broken promise.

“And what treachery you were capable of as well,” Galadriel nodded.

“My mother blames me for the fall of Ostirith, but I had no idea of it. It was no scheme of mine,” you finally met her gaze again. This time you didn’t care if she could see the pain on your face or not because it was too big to hide it anyway. “Why can she not trust her own daughter?”

“She loves you but she does not believe you,” Galadriel informed you. “She revealed to the High King that there had been something rotten about you for a while now. Ever since you had returned from Eregion–”

“Stop it!” You banged your fist on the table, angrily.

“Be at ease, she is provoking you,” Adar’s voice was calm as he put his hand on your arm to give you comfort. Then he shot Galadriel a glance.

You nodded at your husband and relaxed, which made her roll her eyes a bit.

“You seem to quite fit in. Even the sword you carry is Morgoth’s,” Galadriel pointed out.

“I had to fit in to survive. Something a grand lady like you has never known and will never know,” you remarked.

Adar seemed to be a little frustrated with your girly chit-chat as he leaned back on his chair and sighed. He raised a hand to shush you both since he wanted to finally speak of the matters that were the most important to him.

“We must not argue now,” he reminded you two and then, after a short while of silence, he looked at Galadriel. “During my brief time in your capture, you seemed intent on finding Sauron. One might even say, consumed by it,” he told her and Galadriel looked down.

You leaned back on your chair as well, with your hands clasped on your abdomen as you observed her reactions. 

“The way one always is, once he has wormed his way inside your mind,” Adar kept talking and his eyes were on Galadriel. Her own eyes were rather glancing down, avoiding his gaze. Therefore, your own eyes were allowed to wander and for that you were grateful. His words about your beloved were making you feel deeply uncomfortable.

“You know nothing of my mind,” Galadriel replied to that and a smug expression lit up her face. “You yielded to him. I resisted.”

Resisted?

You swallowed a lump in your throat. What was she talking about? Since when was she ever so close to Sauron to be offered anything from him? Back in the First Age, the only time Galadriel had been mentioned by your lover was when he had been complaining about the Elven armies to you. She had never been any part of his plans – except for the one to get rid of her for once and for all. 

And yes, you were aware that Galadriel had been the one to spend time with Halbrand in Númenor but you had never seen her as anything else but his tool. Was it possible that there had been more depth to their relationship? That he had shown her his soul and offered her a piece of it?

Did his soul not belong to you wholly?

“For a while, perhaps,” Adar remarked in a whisper. “But sooner or later, he sees you. Not just who you are, but who you wish to be,” he added and you clenched your jaw as you looked down to stare at your fingers.

You began to fidget with them nervously while you remembered your first meeting with Sauron. How luring and tempting he had been, how he had seemed to know perfectly well what had been your desires. And he had promised you to fulfil them all.

“His eyes bore a hole and the rest of him slithers in,” Adar kept talking and at that moment, his voice was starting to make you sick. It was becoming too much to hear all these things.

He had known Sauron – he had known him better than you in lots of ways. You were no young Elf but your husband was much older and he had known Sauron for a time much longer than you. They had fought together for Morgoth and then for themselves. The only thing you had been doing was warming your lover’s bed and listening to his sweet nothings.

And that… That was enough to make you become obsessed with him. To make you yearn for him each day and each night of your separation. To make you abandon all else – because only Sauron mattered.

“For a while, he even makes you believe that his power has become yours,” Adar kept his monologue and you took a deep breath. As you raised your chin, you spotted the look on Galadriel’s face…

The look that made you realise what the nature of her relationship with Sauron had to be…

You felt dizzy but you managed to keep an emotionless face on even though your mind began to drift away and get foggy.

“Irresistible power… that makes every desire’s fulfilment seem inevitable,” Adar smirked as he had noticed Galadriel’s facial expression as well. “An ocean of colour against which everything else feels forever thereafter–”

“A dull grey,” Galadriel admitted and you regretted eating your meal in an instant when the anxiety squeezed your stomach and you felt even more sick now.

It was her confession and the both of you knew it. You watched Adar’s face change its expression in an instant as he realised he had found an ally in her indeed – that they had both been deceived by Sauron in the past.

And you were sitting there, too. Like a fool.

“What did he promise you?” Adar asked Galadriel.

“An army,” she lied. Her eyes glistened and she shook her head and you knew – you just knew – that she lied.

You knew because you knew what it meant to love and trust Sauron. You knew what he was doing to a woman he had such a strong effect on and what it was like to share a bond with him. And all these things, you could see in her now, too.

It felt like a punch right into your gut, piercing you through and through, leaving you behind to bleed out slowly, drop by drop.

Was it possible that your lover… Your one and only, your whole purpose in life, your dream, your master, your King… That he was merely using you?

That you were nothing but one of many other women he had been finding a use for? And if Lady Galadriel was one of them – the Lady of Light – what chances did you stand? What was giving you any guarantee that it was her he had been deceiving and you that he had been genuine with?

The chances were zero.

Your whole world crumbled down in an instant and you could not let it show. You closed your eyes for a longer while and tried to focus on your fastened heartbeat instead.

“Do you want to know what he offered me?” Adar inquired.

“I care not,” Galadriel admitted.

“Children,” your husband answered anyway.

And how pure his wishes and desires seemed to be compared to you. You had been greedy, you had made Sauron promise you to make you his Queen. You had wanted to be worshipped and admired.

But now you were not so sure. Having a taste of it by being the Dark Lady of Mordor was truly making you realise what a burden and responsibility it was to lead others. Sometimes being Adar’s wife and watching over the Orcs seemed to be more than enough.

And then Sauron would slip back into your mind again… And you would be reminded once more what a great power you could have if you only dared to unleash it.

“Then it would seem he gave us both what we desired,” Galadriel pointed out.

“You see, it is not his lies which must be extinguished. It is him and I can help you do it,” Adar admitted and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

Despite everything you had just found out, you still felt awful whenever the possibility of Sauron’s death was being mentioned.

“I can help you destroy Sauron,” your husband leaned in over the table to reach Galadriel more effectively.

“What help could you possibly provide, Orc?” She snapped at him and it finally gave you an opportunity to glance at her with all your anger and jealousy that you had been feeling for a while now.

You had never cared much about that slur until now – because in her lips it sounded just so awful.

“Uruk,” you finally spoke, interrupting them as they both looked at you surprised. Whether they were shocked by the fact that you cared or they simply forgot you were there with them – you did not care.

You did not care about anything anymore. Your whole life, your whole love and devotion, your whole sacrifice – they might have been a lie. How could you care about anything or anyone?

Adar stood up and briefly caressed your cheek with his finger as he walked away from the table to approach the wooden chest with Morgoth’s crown. He took it out to show it off to Galadriel and as he walked towards her with the item, she seemed to be startled by its darkness.

“Morgoth’s crown… I was told–”

“There are many stories of what happened, after the Silmarils were pried from its settings. But I was there when Sauron re-fired it to fit himself,” Adar confessed and you kept listening as your lips nervously twitched and formed a sad smile as silent and dry tears streamed down your cheeks – they were invisible but you could feel that you were on the verge of crying. “I was there when he kneeled to be crowned and I was the one who used its power to slay him,” Adar continued his story.

Each time you were told it or you thought of it, you relieved it in your mind. You had not been there but you had enough imagination to see it with your eyes. And each time your heart weeped for your betrayed lover but it seemed to weep no more… Because you were a betrayed lover now.

Adar put the crown on the table in front of Galadriel and you looked down, hoping they would forget about your existence once more.

“If what you say is true, why did he return?” Galadriel asked.

Exactly. Why?

Until now, you had foolishly been thinking that perhaps you were one of the reasons. That the very thought of you had been keeping him strong. He had even mentioned such things when you had reunited with him in Mordor for a brief moment.

But now you could see it even more clearly – how cold and distant he had been to you while you had been the one to devour him after centuries of separation. Oh, what a fool you had been and how you had humiliated yourself… 

“Because I had not yet found you,” Adar addressed Galadriel and you looked up angrily. You did not like his choice of words.

“What part am I to play in this?” Galadriel asked.

“It is said that the Three Elven Rings saved your kind from fading,” Adar told her. “Is it true?”

You wondered that, too. You had been with him when you both had received such “news” or rather “gossip” as you had thought of it back then. Lady Galadriel refused to answer, though, as she looked away.

“If it is, then perhaps together, this crown and your Rings would be powerful enough to truly destroy Sauron forever,” Adar informed her.

And once again you were torn – because even if it was true that Sauron had been using you and only that… If he was to be defeated, your whole life would lose its purpose. You had abandoned the Valar for him – your new and only god. If he truly stopped existing, a part of you would die with him surely. The part you had given away to him freely – nearly all of you.

“The Deceiver believes he is still beyond my grasp,” Adar continued, “but I know he hides in Eregion and I suspect you know for certain…” He hesitated with a smirk. “Halbrand is Sauron, isn't he?” He asked and you felt your blood turn even colder when you realised that your husband had seen through your lover’s disguise.

You had a feeling in your gut that he did but he had never told you anything about it, so you were hopeful it was only you being paranoid. But now, you were anxious again that he had seen through you as well.

Galadriel did not answer but what you saw on her face only proved to you once more that she loved the human king – one of your lover’s forms.

“The fate of that city now rests on your ability to put aside your pride,” Adar crouched down to look more intensely at Galadriel’s face. “I suggest you find the will to do so… If you can,” he added with contempt before standing up to take away Morgoth’s crown.

He returned to her to put her wrist in a shackle because she could not be trusted after her stunt with the dagger before but also – despite his sweet assurances – she was your prisoner.

“We will speak again,” your husband told her and offered you his hand to help you stand and leave with him but you shook your head. Adar nodded and left you two alone.

Long while of silence occurred between you two, in which you were debating with yourself on how much to reveal.

“An army,” you mocked her and she furrowed her brows at you. “He promised you to be his Queen,” you added and finally stood up to leave the table even though your legs were weak and trembling, which you managed to hide. You approached Galadriel slowly and leaned in to be face-to-face with the most beautiful of the Elven women.

“You reek of an Orc,” she pointed out and you laughed at that. It was nearly adorable how she was trying to change the subject. 

And, you had to admit, the only good thing coming out of this whole situation was to have her at your mercy. To toy with her was your greatest pleasure – to feel in control and to feel even more powerful. There was a time you had wanted to impress her but now you were disgusting her and it brought you nothing but satisfaction.

“How can you know anyway?” She asked as she met your gaze eventually, after a while of feeling your intense eyes on her and realising you were not willing to change the subject at all.

“I am gifted with an extraordinary intuition,” you teased. “Oh, how pathetic you must feel now… To know that Sauron himself offered you to be his Queen and you considered it for a while. What does that make you? Do you think you are worthy of all your titles now, Lady of Light?” You asked with contempt.

“And were you not offered the same?” Galadriel asked and your heart skipped a beat as your smirk froze. Did she…? Did she know…?

“What are you talking about?!” You barked at her, angrily, as you straightened your back.

“Adar,” she explained and you breathed out of relief. “Did he not promise you the crown? You accepted it. How does that make you feel? What does it make you?”

“He does not wish to be a King and I do not aspire to be a Queen by his side,” you informed Galadriel, which was no lie. “What we wish for is a home. You can pretend to be so righteous and strong amongst your kin, Lady Galadriel, but you and I know how weak you truly are,” you smirked and left the tent.

It was suffocating you at this point. The air inside of it, her intense gaze, the words spoken. You wanted to breathe in the forest and gather your thoughts because there were so many as your heart was broken into a million pieces.

You stared once more at the trees, in the direction of Eregion, and you wanted to reach out to Sauron but he was not answering, probably too busy with his schemes. The fact was – he never answered your calls. If there were any glimpses of the connection between your minds, it was always him initiating it.

“What are you thinking of?” You heard Adar’s voice behind you as he put his arm on your shoulder. “You seem to be upset.”

“I… I think we should go back home,” you turned around to face him now instead of the trees, Eregion and Sauron inside of it. And at the sight of Adar’s scarred face, your heart suddenly filled in with warmth.

“What do you mean?” Your husband furrowed his brows. “Were you not the one convincing me eagerly about marching to Eregion with our army?”

“Yes, but I am not so sure anymore. Please, trust my gut. Something has changed, I am not sure… I have a bad feeling,” you grabbed him by his sleeves as you clenched your fists around the fabric, desperately. Your eyes were looking up to meet his blue ones in a pleading manner and he was staring at you with so much devotion that you were sure he still had no idea of who you truly were despite finding out the truth about Halbrand.

Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps it should stay this way. You wanted to go back to Mordor – to that godforsaken place you had turned into your new home recently. You wanted to live in peace and safety there alongside Adar. And you were not even sure if Sauron would ever come looking for you. He would eventually show up to get his revenge and his army but perhaps you would be able to prepare for it in time. But you doubted he would come there for you.

“I know the vision of this battle is unsettling to you,” Adar cupped your face gently, “and that you wish to be back home – so do I. We shall,” he nodded. “We shall go home but not until Sauron is defeated,” he reminded you and you smiled sadly.

It was a trap and you could not make him see it… You would have to reveal your part in it for him to realise it and that was something you were not ready for. So, instead, you went for something else.

“Can you hold me?” You asked and Adar was a little surprised but he did not say anything. “I want to feel safe.”

“Of course,” he nodded and wrapped his arms around you. You clinged to him like a little girl, wishing that you could freeze time.

To beg and plead for Adar to turn his army back after all the weeks of convincing him that it had been a good idea to march towards Eregion would be highly suspicious now. But you knew that the game was over anyway – it was too late to make him realise it was a trap without telling him the truth. And perhaps even after finding out about your purpose by his side, he would still decide to attack the Elven city.

You spent a whole day wandering around the forest nearby the camp. You found a tree that had fallen over and you sat under it, feeling the grass under your hands. In a way, you wished you had not found out the truth about being Sauron’s puppet – most likely.

Most likely, because you wanted to believe – you truly did – that his devotion and love towards you were true. However, if you started to believe that, wouldn’t that make you an even bigger fool?

You had ruined your maidenhood, your family and your home for him. And now you would ruin your new family, too. You would hand him out Adar to be killed and his children to become Sauron’s slaves. And what would you get in return? A dagger in your back since you would not be useful anymore? Or a crown? Would he truly give you any real power?

You were not even so sure if you wanted it, after all.

Tears streamed down your cheeks. Real, genuine tears. Because, for the first time in a long while, you did not know what to do – until now you had been waiting for Sauron, living for Sauron, worshipping Sauron. And now you were stripped of your faith and of your god but you still remained his servant. How could you stop it? You couldn’t even pray to the Valar anymore to help you – they would not listen to a fallen Elf.

When you heard a noise behind you, you suspected it would be Adar. But no, it was Glûg. You quickly sniffled your tears back and wiped your cheeks before cracking a smile at him.

“My Lady?” He asked, unsurely as he tilted his head at the sight of your tears.

“Yes, Uruk?” You asked him, trying to hide the deep amount of your sadness.

“Lord Father is looking for you,” he told you and you nodded before getting up and approaching him to go back to the camp.

“It is a pretty area of the forest, is it not?” You tried to ask him while pretending to be cheerful.

“I guess,” he shrugged his arms. He kept staring at you intensely with his small eyes. “Why are you sad, Dark Lady?”

“I already mourn all the Uruks that will die in the upcoming battle,” you smiled sadly at him.

How easy it was to spit out such soothing lies. It was not like you didn’t care what would happen to them – you had grown used to being around them. But it was also not like you truly mourned for them. However, such a lie rolled off of your tongue without much thought put into it.

Sauron had taught you well. But this time you felt bad about it instead of being proud about it.

Glûg nodded his head at you, sadly. That was when you entered the camp again and you spotted Adar amongst his children, explaining something to them. You ran up to him and wrapped your hands around his arm. He smiled adoringly at you.

“Come with me, let me show you,” you tried to convince him and you could see him hesitate. There was not much time to waste but he eventually agreed with a sigh and allowed you to walk him out of the camp.

You were starting to become his weakness.

You took him back to where Glûg had found you. It was truly a very beautiful place in the forest; so green and calm. The light was creeping in through the trees and you smiled at your husband as you caressed his cheeks and brushed his hair strands behind his pointy ears.

“Something about you in this light makes me believe I could truly be good once again,” Adar whispered to you in the Quenya language and you felt your heart clench inside your chest.

How could you betray him…?

“Damn the good. And damn the evil. Let us just be ourselves,” you answered. “Let us go home…”

“You know that we cannot. Not until he is no more,” your husband carefully and gently held your wrists to lower them away from his face. He placed soft kisses upon the palms of your hands and caressed them.

“Why do we have to come for him? Why can he not come for us? We could fight him in our own land, on our own terms,” you tried to convince him. “You know that this feeling in my gut… It is never wrong.”

“Yet it often changes its mind,” Adar smirked at that and you sighed.

You even opened your mouth, gathering courage to confess the truth in this beautiful place but the moment you were about to admit your sins, the very same courage abandoned you.

“It is beautiful here and I know you yearn for peace but we must go back,” Adar let go of one of your hands to caress your cheek with his rough fingertips. “You are the most beautiful lady in all Middle-earth,” he added in the Quenya language and you furrowed your brows at that when you began walking back to the camp.

“Where did it come from?” You asked with a nervous chuckle.

“I could sense your jealousy when I spoke with Lady Galadriel,” he answered. “As if her beauty could ever match yours.”

“You must be blind then, my poor Adar. She is known for being the fairest of the Elven ladies,” you shook your head but a playful sparkle lit up your eyes.

“That is an easy kind of beauty and I do not seek easiness in anything,” your husband answered with all seriousness.

And the thing with Adar was that you just knew that his words were genuine and they were not prepared beforehand with some hidden agenda.

It was dark already when Adar and you were informed that Lady Galadriel was ready to speak again. You went back inside your tent where she had been kept for a whole day and you stood in front of her, still sitting on the chair.

“Yes. Halbrand is Sauron,” Galadriel started as the silence was growing heavy between you all. Your jaw twitched slightly as it clenched at her words. “He’s in Eregion to craft Rings that will allow him to dominate my kind. And yours.”

“Every kind in Middle-earth,” Adar added.

“But he will not attempt escape until his task is complete,” Galadriel laid her eyes upon you now. “And that gives us a momentary advantage.”

“Us?” You raised an eyebrow at her

Galadriel moved her hand in shackles and looked back at your husband, angrily.

“Unlock me,” she ordered.

Adar looked at you and you nodded at him even though you were not sure if it was a good idea to do so. He approached her to unchain her and she kept glancing at him with a mix of anger but also curiosity.

“As we speak, Elrond hastens from Lindon with an army of Elves,” she revealed. “And Nenya – my Ring.”

“I see,” Adar turned around to join your side again.

“Once he arrives, he will seal off the city,” Galadriel stood up as she spoke, “loose Celebrimbor from Sauron’s grasp, and then together, Uruks, you and I will eradicate all trace of Sauron from this world. Never to return,” she finished.

Uruks. You had been told by her or by your lover that you reeked of them. But you had never been called one.

“And what then?”Adar asked.

“Any Rings that have known his touch must be destroyed,” Galadriel stated.

“I meant, what then for the Uruk?” Adar furrowed his brow. “Will your High King permit us to return home in peace? Or will he proceed with his plans to invade Mordor?” He asked and Galadriel did not answer because what could she possibly tell? She was known to be an Orc-slayer. “The shadow has not only overcome you, it has overcome all Elvendom. In the end, your drive to prove your virtue will work right into Sauron’s designs.”

“You speak lies,” Galadriel shook her head as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Hoping I will reveal something.”

“You have already revealed everything I hoped you would and more,” Adar answered calmly and walked out of the tent.

He did not even look at you because he was so focused on the battle that was to come – he had his confirmation about Halrand being Sauron. About him being in Eregion. Now he was an unstoppable force.

“Adar…” You called out for him but he was out of the tent already.

You looked at Galadriel with a sigh before gathering your skirts and rushing out after him. So did she.

“It is time!” Your husband announced in Black Speech to his children. You were pretty fluent in this language by now. 

“All of Eregion may well be under Sauron’s control by now,” Galadriel was trying to make him realise the truth. “It will take far more than a legion of your children to lay siege to it!”

But Adar was leading her to the edge of the hill from where the real power of your army could be seen. The truth be told – most of the Orcs had left Mordor to march towards Eregion. You had been the one insisting on that back in the day.

“Did you really think I would attempt to challenge the might of Sauron with a single legion?” Adar asked and stopped as he looked down at your soldiers below the hill. You stood behind him and you had to admit – the view was admirable and was filling you with pride. However, you knew very well that those poor and filthy creatures were being led into a trap.

“Now that you have confirmed beyond any doubt who he is and told me who carries your Ring, Eregion will fall,” Adar turned his head around to look at Galadriel with a smirk. “And Sauron with it.”

“No…” Galadriel looked down, visibly overthinking something. “This must be what he wants. Sauron has no army of his own, so he’s lured yours here instead,” she laid her eyes upon Adar as your heart skipped a beat.

She even found your eyes, too, as if she was trying to make you see the truth your husband could not. She was able to see the treachery but she still could not see the deceiver. You suddenly realised Halbrand’s task had not been very difficult.

“He wants you to attack Eregion,” she added but you remained still. It would be suspicious to agree with her words eagerly but you hoped she would make Adar change his mind. After all, he wanted to protect his children the most.

“Bind her. She will be useful later,” he ordered instead and three Orcs hurried to your side to grab Galadriel.

Of course. The love he had for his children would always be overshadowed by his hatred towards Sauron. His personal revenge, his own retribution.

“I beg you…” Galadriel addressed Adar but he ignored her so she laid her eyes upon you. “Do not let your husband be a fool! Do not do this! Do not take his lure!”

Her desperate words and her behaviour as she was being dragged away by the Orcs were sending a shiver down your spine because you could see yourself in her – you could see yourself doing the same to protect him but you could not.

You were terrified of Adar’s reaction after finding out the truth about you. He would never trust you again.

And, after all, Sauron’s grasp around your heart was still tight and painful. Perhaps you were only a tool in his scheme but you still did not wish for his downfall or his death.

“I will make him choke on it,” Adar remarked.

“No!” Galadriel shouted. “You mustn’t. This is all his design! This is what Sauron wants! Whatever forces were encouraging you to come here were his!”

You looked away, nervously.

Thankfully, your husband was too occupied with his thirst for the battle to truly think about Galadriel’s words. She had no idea, of course, that it had been you encouraging Adar to march with his armies towards Eregion. But she had said one sentence too much.

Glûg handed Adar a war horn but he did it hesitantly, causing his Lord Father’s impatience. The Orc was visibly worried and startled by Galadriel’s screams and warnings.

Adar was not, however. He blew the horn and a malicious feeling filled your heart – there was no way back.

Your betrayal was definite as you had just brought Sauron his army.

MASTERLIST

[aran-morinorea]

Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea: I want to hear about Annatar's Shit Paradigms, of course :D

...All right so here's the thing you don't get Annatar's Shit Paradigms because it needed so much groundwork before I can begin to write actual prose. But you do get this whole thing describing Annatar's interiority in the months after The Inciting Event for the whole au. Because I needed to pin it down so I can even start Annatar's Shit Paradigms.

--

Celebrimbor confronts Annatar - Tar-Mairon - about his activities in Mordor, gives him the “Your evil plans or me” ultimatum, and then Mairon fucks off to go have a tantrum.

This tantrum involves: 

Going back to Barad-dur and killing some people who definitely 100% deserved it for sure. 

That thing where someone goes to a bathroom and splashes water on their face and looks in the mirror while leaning on the sink except it’s lava instead of water. 

Laying facedown in the fires of Mount Doom and rethinking his life. 

Causing multiple earthquakes. 

...Thinking about the joy of watching Celebrimbor learn and make things. 

Thinking about the satisfaction of working in partnership with someone else, someone as vibrant and strong and smart and wonderful as Celebrimbor. 

Thinking about going and taking Celebrimbor by force, laying siege to Ost-in-Edhil and putting him in chains and bringing him here and keeping him.

… Thinking about how strong and vibrant and stubborn and principled Celebrimbor is. 

Thinking about whether Celebrimbor would be one of those people who would rather die than live as a thrall. 

Realizing that yes, Celebrimbor absolutely would die for what he believes in, and it would be so much work to try keep his spirit around, and it wouldn’t be nearly the same as having him - really having him - having him to work and argue and play with - having his love.

Remembering that Celebrimbor still doesn’t know about the Sauron thing, and he might be able to keep it that way.

Remembering that Celebrimbor did not cast him out of his life unequivocally - he will not be the friend or lover of a slaver and an imperialist, but if Mairon takes steps to stop being those things -

Thinking about how hard it would be, really, to stop being those things.

Realizing he’s genuinely considering just giving up on the vision of Melkor.

Spontaneously filling the whole room with flames.

That was the throne room. He’d been sitting there, motionless and completely unresponsive, for four days.

There might have been people in there who will be annoying to replace. Mairon simply cannot care about it right now.

Remaining on fire while thinking about Melkor’s promises.

He said it was only a matter of time.

He said it would be better to put the rightful king on the throne of Arda quickly, and get back to the business of metals and fractals, than to fight a long defeat and be judged unworthy at the end, never having time for beauty again.

And then He lost.

Three times out of four.

As soon as the Valar bothered to interfere.

And maybe, at the end, after the final battle, it would be better, safer, to have been working toward His purposes the whole time He was gone, but -

Thinking about what would happen if the Valar bothered to interfere with his current projects.

…Thinking about how hard it would be, really, to be - in truth, even, maybe! - someone Celebrimbor could love.

How hard would it be to act within the boundaries of Celebrimbor’s principles?

He did not say “Believe what I believe.”

He did not say “Cease to be a monster.”

He said “Your policies are monstrous and I cannot support them,” which suggests that it is the action that matters most to him. That the problem is what he is doing, and not what he is.

Changing that does not seem so hard.

Perhaps it will be a fun challenge, like an arbitrary restriction for a jewelcraft competition.

And really - if anyone is going to change him - if he’s going to accept anyone’s judgement - if there’s anyone currently in Arda who Mairon thinks is right - would it not be Celebrimbor?

Of course it would.

Deciding that, you know what, Mairon would be willing to commit to Celebrimbor’s vision - if Celebrimbor will fucking commit to him.

This is so Mairon can keep him.

So that they will twine their souls together and be - be that partnership which is so full of joy.

Deciding that if Celebrimbor won’t do it - if he wants “Annatar” to give him this without giving anything in return - then - yes.

Then he will find another way to keep him. 

And it would not be as good, it would not be Mairon’s shining vision, but it would be something. And eventually Celebrimbor would see the value in Mairon’s methods. He’s sure of it.

When he’s finally done with his tantrum, Annatar climbs out of the magma-filled crevasse he'd been sulking in and goes up to draft the words to a wedding proposal.

[act-nat-ural]

hii! I’ve been in a Kageyama and Suna mood lately, could I be so vague as to ask for anything cute for either of them? I love your writing, I’m so glad you started posting!💕

Alphabet Dating

note: thank u for the kind words :’) means so much. I hope you enjoy this :p I might turn this into a series for the rest of the alphabet tbh.

word count: 1680

Though you and Tobio cherished each other dearly, you both had to admit your dating life had gotten a bit plain. In the beginning of your relationship, you used to go on exciting dates with each other as often as you could. It’s not like you don’t still love each other, you just have gotten used to staying in together. You were both cuddled together in bed, each during your respective things. He was currently flipping through one of his volleyball magazines, as you were scrolling on your phone. Suddenly, a video popped up on your feed.

“Tobio, look! We should totally do this.” You say excitedly. He puts his magazine down and scoots closer to see what you're referring to. It's a video of a couple talking about ‘Alphabet dates’. “Basically, each week they go on a date based on a letter of the alphabet. Like, for ‘A’ we could go to the arcade or something. Does that seem fun to you?” You give him a hopeful smile. He nods, just as excited. 

“Yeah. How do we decide what to do, though?” You hum thoughtfully. 

“I guess we could split the letters, so I pick some and you pick some. That way we both get a say.” 

“That sounds fair. Good idea, baby.” You sigh contentedly, resting your head on his chest. 

“I know. I’m full of them.”

–

A- Arcade: The first week, you both agreed that you would get to pick, and he would pick next week’s date. You had already used it as an example, so you thought you might as well go to the arcade. That, and you know how much Tobio loves a good competition. You were holding hands as you and him entered the building. 

“I’ll go get us some tokens.” He kisses your head and jogs to the counter. 

You leaned against the game machines, scanning the bright, flashing lights and sounds that filled the room. The arcade was busier than you expected, with groups of people laughing and yelling out in excitement as they played. Tobio returned with a handful of tokens, his usual confident smile in place.

“Alright, which one should we start with?” he asked, holding out the tokens.

You grinned mischievously, pointing toward the racing game in the corner. “You’re on. But I warn you, I’m really good at this.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. “You think so? I’ll show you how it’s done.”

The race began, and you immediately shot ahead of him, your fingers flying over the controls. Tobio, despite his competitive nature, was caught off guard, but he quickly adjusted. You could hear him muttering under his breath as he tried to catch up.

“You’re not going to beat me that easily,” he said, his voice full of determination.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ll see about that, Tobio!”

The race ended with you narrowly winning, and Tobio let out a dramatic groan, shaking his head in mock frustration. “Okay, okay, you won this round. But I’ll take the next one.”

You could tell he was enjoying himself, even if he didn’t want to admit it. After a few more rounds of games—some you won, some he did—you both wandered around, playing everything from claw machines to rhythm games. At one point, you even challenged him to a dance-off on one of the dance machines, and though you got a few more perfect steps than him, it was clear he was having fun.

As the night wore on, you both were out of tokens and laughing, your competitive streaks fading into a comfortable camaraderie.

“Thanks for agreeing to this,” you said, leaning into him as you walked toward the exit. 

He kissed your forehead again, a rare soft smile on his lips. “This was fun. We should definitely do this again.”

–

B- Bowling: The next week, it was Tobio’s turn to pick, and of course, he chose something that could fuel his competitive nature—bowling. You arrived at the bowling alley, the neon lights casting a soft glow across the floor, and Tobio immediately headed for the counter to get your shoes. 

“Why do we always have to wear these ugly shoes?” you muttered, wiggling your feet in the bright orange pair.

Tobio smirked at you. “It’s part of the experience. Deal with it.”

You rolled your eyes but accepted your fate. After a quick warm-up, you were both standing at the lane, picking out your bowling balls. Tobio’s form was impeccable, smooth and practiced, and you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he lined up his shots. 

He grinned as the ball rolled down the lane, knocking down nearly all the pins. “Your turn,” he said with a smug look.

You were determined to show him that you could be just as good. You stepped up, took a deep breath, and threw your ball with confidence. Unfortunately, it veered slightly to the left and only knocked down a few pins. 

Tobio’s smirk widened. “Oof. Better luck next time.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

For the next few frames, it was a back-and-forth between you, with a lot of joking and laughing, and a bit of trash talk from both sides. At one point, you even managed to throw a perfect strike, which you proudly pointed out to Tobio, who merely nodded in approval.

The game continued, and by the final frame, you were trailing behind by just a few points. “You’re not going to beat me now,” Tobio said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

But with a wink, you proved him wrong, hitting another strike to seal the win. “Guess I did.”

He shot you an exaggerated glare. “Lucky shot,” he muttered, but his smile betrayed how much he enjoyed the friendly competition.

“Maybe,” you said, slipping your hand into his as you walked toward the exit. “But I still won. So, how does that feel?”

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, “But next time, I’m definitely beating you.”

–

C- Cooking Class: It was your turn to pick, and after thinking for a moment, you suggested something that would definitely get Tobio’s attention: a cooking class. When you mentioned that the class would teach you both how to make curry, Tobio’s eyes lit up, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. You knew his love for curry was well-known, but you also knew he'd never pass up the chance to learn how to make it from scratch.

“Curry?” he asked, sounding pleasantly surprised. “That sounds... interesting.”

You smiled. “Well, it’s your favorite food, right? I thought it’d be fun to learn how to make it together.”

Tobio nodded, clearly warming to the idea. “Alright, I’m in. As long as I get to eat it afterward.”

That settled it. You booked the class, and soon you found yourselves standing in a cozy kitchen studio, surrounded by the scent of fresh herbs and spices. There were a few other couples in the room, all eager to learn how to make the perfect curry.

The instructor, a cheerful woman with an easy smile, introduced herself and began guiding everyone through the process. Tobio was already paying close attention, his eyes narrowing slightly in concentration. 

As the class went on, you and Tobio worked well together, passing ingredients back and forth and making sure everything was perfectly seasoned. By the end of the class, you had created a beautiful serving of pork curry.

The couple next to you complimented your dish, and even Tobio seemed impressed with your teamwork. You smiled up at him. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”

He looked down at you, eyes softening. “I’ll admit, it was kind of fun. Maybe we should do more of these.”

You grinned, feeling the warmth of the evening. “Maybe next time, we can cook something for just the two of us.”

He smiled, clearly content. “Deal.”

–

D- Dancing: By now, you were both getting into the rhythm of trying new activities together. For the letter ‘D’, Tobio had picked dancing—something neither of you had much experience in, but it seemed fun.

You both showed up at a local dance studio for a beginner’s salsa class. Tobio was clearly nervous, glancing around at the other couples who seemed to know what they were doing. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” he admitted, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

You chuckled, stepping closer to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you. We’ll just have fun.”

The class began, and the instructor walked everyone through the basic steps. You and Tobio stumbled through the movements at first, your feet not quite in sync. Tobio was a little stiff, but after a few tries, he started to loosen up.

“See? You’re doing better,” you said with a laugh as you spun under his arm.

“Yeah, I’m not as bad as I thought,” he replied, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips.

By the end of the class, you both managed to keep up with the routine, laughing at your missteps and high-fiving after you nailed a particularly difficult spin.

“You know,” Tobio said as the class ended, “this wasn’t half bad.”

You leaned against him, smiling. “I told you. We should do more of this kind of thing.”

Tobio smirked and kissed your lips. “Maybe. We’ll just have to see.”

–

You two had just gotten home from your dance class, and as you were taking off your shoes you heard him let out a deep sigh. You turn to him, eyebrow raised. “Yes? What’s bothering you?” He gives a slightly embarrassed look and mumbles something. “Huh?”

He sighs again and says louder, “I said I wish we could skip to ‘V’.” You blink in confusion. 

“Why? That’s weeks away.” He pouts. 

“I want to teach you how to play volleyball.” You let out a laugh and rest your hand on his cheek. 

“Tobio, you realize we could do that any day we wanted, right?” His mouth opens and closes before he tries to play it off.

“Psh. Yeah. I knew that.”

[kitterkat100]

My thoughts on Dragon Age: The Veilguard

So, I finished datv yesterday and now have time to sit and think about it. Now, obviously this is just my subjective opinion, so take it with a grain of salt. I am going to start with the good and go into the bad and then finish with more good (that teacher training coming in). Also, I learned how to do a read more for this.

I am going to start with the combat. I have made another post about this, but that was like 3 hours into my first playthrough. Veilguard has the best combat in the series. Usually Dragon Age games have combat that is a slog to get through, so much so that many people in the fandom say they don't play the games for combat but for the story. I have never been a fan of the real-time with tactical pause, I find it a little boring. I am not a big fan of turn-based, to begin with ( that is one of the reasons I still have not finished Baulder's Gate). In the past, if I wanted to play a good story game with fun combat, I would play Mass Effect. But I have fun just fighting enemies, if DAI's combat was this fun I would replay it more often.

Next the art direction. Now, I am no artist and I know next to nothing about anything. But I really like the art. I think the environments are beautiful. I like the character models. I know people were complaining about the models having small heads in the lead-up to the release, but I think it was because the game doesn't use heroic proportions. And you don't notice in-game at all, at least I didn't. Also the brought back some reused assets from the Inquisition, and some of the paintings that have been around since Origins.

Okay the companions. I might write a longer post for each companion later on. I am going in alphabetical order.

Bellara: I romanced her, and I love her so much. She has some strong Tali vibes with a strong dose of ADHD. I am a little sad that we did not even kiss until after the final battle, but I just read that as her being ace or demi (like me!).

Davrin: He is such a bro. I love him and Assan so much. His banter with Emmrich is so funny. The ending to his story line is a little weak, but I will talk about that in his own post.

Emmrich: I think Emmrich is one of the best companions in the whole series, flat out. I love this man, he going to be my next romance (Female Qunari Grey Warden).

Harding: Harding is great. I really liked all of the Titan stuff in her storyline. I did get her killed, so I am not sure what her ending is like. I did think her romance with Taash was cute.

Lucanis: I'm going to say it. I think Lucanis is the weakest of the companions, I don't dislike him. I don't if I missed a lot of content because I saved Minrathous instead of Treviso or if it was because his writer got canned during development. And what he did have felt bare bones. I thought we would be dealing with Spite a lot more. I will say his recruitment mission is a blast.

Neve: I played a Shadow Dragon so my character had a lot of in common with Neve. I like her, but I don't have any strong feelings towards her one or another. Her romance with Lucanis is a thing that happens. I might change my mind when I get around to romancing her.

Taash: I am cis, so take this with a grain of salt. But I think their storyline about being non-binary was oddly paced. I did like everything past that, I think it was much better paced. I do like them a lot. Also, they are really cute with Harding. I do wish there was more of a reaction to me getting Harding killed on Tearstone Island, but that is a writing complaint.

Speaking of the writing. It is really a mixed bag. Some of it is great and then some of it was giving slop comics from the mid-00s. The first several hours are story slog, some of that is because of all the lore dumps, and some of it is because it is oddly paced. The writing gets progressively better throughout the game. From the point of no return to the credits it is the strongest writing, maybe not in the whole series but definitely since the last third of DAI. That after-credit scene was a choice. I will probably talk about that more after I figure out how I feel about it. I think Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nan are the strongest villains since Loghain, it really helps that they are present throughout the game. There are definitely moments where you feel that Rook is HR, but not a lot, but enough that I understand why that made it into some reviews. I don't think it is any more quippy or Marvel-like than any other Dragon Age game, "Swooping is bad" comes to mind.

Finally, some random thoughts. I think this game really nailed the horror of the Blight, I can't get the image of Bellara wrapped in Blight tentacles during the final section out of my head.

I played a non-mage elf shadow dragon, and there was a lot of reactivity for the shadow dragon part, less the elf part. I know I missed a conversation with Tarquin about it, but still. It's like no one even noticed the pointy ears.

That's it for now. I might add more as think about it.

8/10, I had a blast.

[gothsuguru]

writing fluff is so hard esp for a character you haven’t written for before + other characters in the fic 😭

[eclipsecrowned]

goes into tags for one of my fandoms. watches that one fandom's wheel of fortune swing back around to 'why are m*rder hornets building nests on my blog?'

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me all of that ultraviolence” | 2k

logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ implied age gap. dirty talk. kind of inexperienced reader. oral sex (m receiving). face fucking. dom!logan. a tiny bit of degradation. he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!

It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.

“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”

“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”

His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”

“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”

“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”

From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.

At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.

Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs. 

You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.

That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.

“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”

You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big. 

You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.

He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”

One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.

“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”

“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”

“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”

Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”

You’re more than happy to comply.

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”

With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”

You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.

After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”

Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”

His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”

You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.

He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”

You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”

His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.” 

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[parfaitblogs]

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 

And then he was free. 

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 

You couldn't complain. 

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?" 

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 

"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?" 

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 

He liked to hear you. 

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 

"Touch myself?" 

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 

Thankfully, you didn't have to. 

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[fangirl-dot-com]

🚕Accidentally Kidnapping a Mafia Boss

*part of the reverse tropes series*

Pairing: MafiaBoss!Max Verstappen x UberDriver!Reader Genre: Crack/Humor/Fluff? Summary: Uber seemed like a brilliant plan to get money to buy a new car. However, a mistake has you picking up the wrong passenger. Pretty blue eyes turn dangerous when you notice the gun in his belt.

*this was actually so much fun to write! this is in no way dark whatsoever. it's super funny and the reader is pretty ditzy but it's all in good fun! hope you like it!*

TAG LIST CLOSED

You hummed to whatever tune was playing on your half-broken radio. Most of the lyrics came out as muffled voices, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because like the radio, your car was almost dead. 

Key word being almost. 

You had bought the car at the beginning of your high school career and refused to give it up. But, your father had finally convinced you to buy a new one. However, buying a new car was expensive, hence why you were driving around town at 7 p.m. on a Friday night trying to find someone who needed an Uber. 

Your family had mentioned how dangerous it was to drive for the “taxi” company, but no one else was hiring at this time. 

“It’s an easy way to make bank,” you had told your very confused parents. 

Your hand came up and smacked the top of the dash, causing the radio to spam for a moment before finally, clear voices played out. However, your eyebrows furrowed once you could actually listen to the song. 

“This is not my playlist,” you muttered while trying to get your Bluetooth to come back on. Once your fingers reached the dials, your phone lit up with an Uber notification. 

“Finally.”

You quickly put in the address and drove down the street. Your humming resumed, playlist reaching out through the speaker. You hadn’t even glanced at where the location was, or you would have realized that you were going in the wrong direction. 

When you were supposed to be going further into the town, you were headed for the city. The only place your parents refused to let you drive. 

It might have to do with the local mafia war that was going on. Something about track limits or whatnot. However, that was not going to stop you from getting paid that night. 

You finally came to a stop at the corner of what you thought to be Fifth and Main, like your phone said to stop at. The actual corner was Fourth and Main, but you couldn’t tell because half of the word “fourth” was smudged with some type of brown substance. 

Your shoulders raised in a shrug while your gaze landed back on your phone. At least you were supposed to be picking up a nice older looking lady. That’s what your Uber app said anyway. You leaned forward in the driver’s seat, making the entire car squeak. Before you knew it, your fingers had started to tap along to the song that was still playing. 

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut caught your attention. 

“Drive!” you heard from behind you. 

Your entire body turned in the seat as you looked to the back row of your car. 

That was not a nice looking old lady. 

The man that now resided on the back road had a mean glare as his eyebrows cocked. Sea blue eyes met your own as the man leaned forward and pointed out the window. 

“I said drive, let’s go!” the accented voice yelled.  

If you had taken a moment to actually look at the man, you would have noticed his roughed up suit, along with the bright red splatters along his white dress shirt. And on his belt line, a gun seemed to be tucked. 

But you hadn’t noticed. 

“Yes sir!” you cheerfully said, putting the car into drive. A loud boom sounded outside the car, but your radio had decided to turn up full blast, masking the sound. Your car squeaked as it started to move away from the corner and farther along the road. 

The man in the back seat seemed agitated, but slowly relaxed the farther away you got on the highway. He had leaned back against the window and rubbed his eyes. You wanted to keep glancing back at him, but you needed to drive. When you noticed that the Uber app had not updated with his next location, you gathered the courage to speak. However, he beat you to it. 

“Is this your first time?” 

You sheepishly grinned back at him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, is it that noticeable?” 

A grunt escaped his lips. 

“The damn Get Away Car sticker on the back is not very inconspicuous. You need to get rid of it.” 

“Oh! So you don’t like Taylor Swift that much?” 

The man glared at you through the rearview mirror, before he shut his eyes. His hand waved at you through the gap between the front seats. 

“Just don’t miss the exit.” 

“Sir, you’ll need to put in your location first.” 

His eyes shot open. “I guess this is your first day. How did you ever get through training?” 

You glanced back. “Training? It was all online?” 

A huff only answered as he reached for what you hoped was a phone in his pocket. 

“I’ll have to let Lando know that online training will not work.” 

You let out a nervous giggle, noting that there was no “Lando” in the Uber training video. But, once again, the money promised kept you going down the highway. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping that the guy would just put his address in. Now you were getting annoyed.

“Sir, I really need the address or I’ll have to make you get out.” 

A click near your ear made you freeze. 

“Who do you think you are? Giving orders to de Leeuw.” 

You had definitely picked up the wrong person. You wanted to start explaining yourself, but the gun near your head made the words die out in your throat. You could feel his breath on your ear as he spoke. This would be hot, if you weren’t scared to lose your life. 

“Now, you’re going to tell me who you are and why you don’t know where the right exit is. Are you working for Hamilton? Vettel? Alonso?” 

You were so caught up in not wanting to die that you missed the car in front of you slamming on your breaks. You were thankful for your fast reflexes as your foot pressed down on the left pedal, making your car lurch to a halt. A thump on the back of your seat had you reeling around to see what had happened to the blond man. 

You were surprised to see him now sprawled on the back seats, eyes closed and gun now on the floor. Your hands were shaking as you were now able to take a random exit. When you got to a random parking lot, your head hit the steering wheel. 

“I have de Leeuw in my back seat.” 

Your breathing started to grow ragged. 

“I have  de Leeuw in my back seat!” 

You were now panicking. 

“I HAVE AN FUCKING UNCONSCIOUS MAFIA BOSS IN MY BACK SEAT!” 

Charles’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Max’s tracker come to a stop in a parking lot. The Dutchman was supposed to come back right away after a swift deal with Gasly on the other side of town. But, Charles’s heart had dropped when the car, that Max was supposedly in, turned at an exit too soon. He took off his headset and rolled his chair over a bit. 

“Lando, who was picking Max up today after the deal? Was it Carlos?” 

The curly-haired Briton spun in his seat to look at his fellow mafia worker. 

“Uh, Carlos called in sick. I thought it was Oscar’s turn?” 

Something felt weird in Charles’s stomach. 

“No, Oscar is on that mission? Daniel was then after Oscar.” 

Lando’s eyes widened with fear. “Daniel is out of the country.” 

The Monegasque turned back to his computer screen. All vitals for Max were still good, but he had yet to leave the location. His finger pointed and pressed against the screen. 

“Then . . . who has Max?” 

Back in the parking lot, you had gotten out of the car and were currently rocking back and forth in the fetal position. 

“This is not happening. Why did this happen to me? I only needed some money. Why did I get stuck with a mafia boss. I want to live. I need to get back home to my plant and cat.” 

Last time you checked, de Leeuw was still out cold. You had taken the gun just in case he woke up in a panic and started to shoot at stuff. That would not end well for you. You grabbed your phone and pushed a button. 

“Yes? Hi? Hello, I am calling about what to do if I picked up the wrong passenger. Uh-huh. Yes. I didn’t have his address. Well, no. He’s unconscious. I can’t call the police, he probably owns them. What? Ok. No? The hospital is under the law as well? Yep. I can’t just take him back! No, wait. Don’t hang up. Uhg.” 

So much for customer service. 

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket. Your feet took you over to your car, and you opened the back seat. The blond man was still looked like he was asleep. Your face got closer to his. 

Hm. Up close he was quite handsome. The freckle on his lip really added bonus points. You were so engrossed with the small dot that you missed the twitch of his eyes under his eyelids. When you looked back up, your eyes met blue, which made you shriek and fall back on your butt. 

Max was a bit out of it when he was trying to wake up. What he wasn’t expecting was a face to be so close to his when his eyes finally opened. He would laugh if he had the strength as he watched you fall onto the concrete. His hand immediately went to his belt, but his heart dropped when he didn’t feel his gun. 

“Looking for this?” you asked, gun outstretched at the man in your back seat. Max’s eyes widened at the gun pointed to his head. It took all of his strength to put his hands up. 

“You don’t want to do this,” is the first calm thing that the man said to you. You, however, kept the gun pointed directly at him. 

“You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t have you freak out on me and shoot my face. Who would take care of my cat back home? My cousin Lan could, but he kills everything.” 

Max registered the slight hitch in your voice. While his hands were still up, he took a moment to look around the parking lot. In the depths of his mind, he was hoping that Lando or at least Charles were on their way to come get him. Yet, his heart rate rose as he saw a few familiar things surrounding him. 

He turned back to you. “Ok, you need to listen to me. We are in Rosberg territory right now. And he’s not going to like us on his property. So, you need to give me the gun and get back into the car.” 

Your eyes flickered around, and caught some movement to the left and then to the right. You slowly inched the gun down as you walked closer. When you were right in front of the Dutchman, you quickly handed him the gun as you rounded the car to the drivers seat. 

Max quickly reloaded the unloaded gun with a smirk on his face. You couldn’t have shot him if you tried. It took a bit for him to do it, but when the magazine fit back in the gun, he was wondering why you hadn’t taken off yet. 

“We have to go, now,” he said sternly. 

You turned around. “But I need to find a good get-away-song.” 

Max could count the pout on your lips as adorable, if it weren’t for the fact that Rosberg’s men were quickly making their way to the car. 

“You’re going to have to pick a good funeral song if you don’t hit the gas pedal.” 

“Aha!” 

The music blared out of the broken speaker as you finally put the car into drive. You heard metal hit metal and prayed that you still could trade your car out for another (even with a few bullet holes). 

Max had pressed himself up against the back seat, gun cocked and ready. 

“You better not shoot out my back window. I have to trade this car for a new one.” 

Max muttered, “You won’t trade anything if you’re dead.” 

“I heard that!” 

The mafia boss ignored you as he kept watch. When a few cars started to gain, that’s when he leaned back and aimed the gun, firing shots through your back windshield, shattering the glass. 

“Do you listen to anyone? Or is my voice just static in your brain?” you asked as you swerved onto the highway. When Max didn’t answer, you huffed. You steadily drove your car down the big roads as Max tried his best to keep the cars at bay. 

“How far am I driving?” 

Max grunted as he ducked from a bullet. “Just until exit 7. That’s my track.” 

You wanted to hit your head on the steering wheel once again. “You’re telling me that if I just kept driving, I wouldn’t be in this situation?” 

When he didn’t answer, you swerved a bit to knock him off balance. Your chuckles hit Max’s ear, pissing him off even more. 

“And to think, I was going to replace this utter junk if you made it out alive.” 

“We’re not done yet mister.” 

There was still a bit of road to go, and you were hoping that Max would try to shoot out one of their tyres, instead of trying to shoot at their drivers. He was about reload when he heard a clicking sound. Max really wanted to through himself out the door. 

“Is your blinker seriously on right now?” 

Your fully turned around to glare. 

“Yes.” 

You jerked the wheel as you got onto exit 7, making the cars behind slowly back away and continue on the highway. You wiggled in your seat as you did a little celebration. When some familiar houses came into sight, you gasped. 

“My cousin lives around here!” 

Max was out of breath as he was flabbergasted by your upbeat spirit. “Cousin?” 

“Yeah! He has this like high tech job and stuff. I come over to swim in the summer.” 

He had no words as you pulled up to a familiar house. You scrambled out the door and fell face flat on the asphalt. 

“Sweet mother, thank you, thank you.” 

You could kiss the ground, but that would be super unsanitary. When the garage creaked, you quickly got up and scrambled behind Max, who raised his gun out of instinct. However, he wanted to laugh when he saw his two best friends in full oversized gear. 

The two friends froze at the sight of their boss and, well, Lando’s cousin. 

“Y/n?” the Briton questioned, pulling the visor on the oversized helmet up. 

Your sprung in your place. 

“Lando!” 

“Max?” 

“Charles?”

Lando squinted at you. 

“Y/n?” 

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. 

“Lando?” 

The curly-haired man rushed at you, making you dodge around Max. Which, that resulted in Lando chasing you around the yard. 

“You kidnapped my friend?” 

“Why are you friends with de Leeuw and apparently Il Predestinato? I’m telling Aunt Cisca!”

“Not if I tell your mum that you Ubered in the city!” 

Max and Charles watched as the two of you ran after each other, hurling insults and threats. The two jumped when they heard a loud creak behind them and then a crash. When they looked, your car was down to the ground, wheels askew. 

“My car! De Leeuw, you’re paying for that!”  

uber_y/n has posted

uber_y/n new baby from my new baby 🖤

liked by bestie, land0, max_v, and 204 others

bestie um excuse me ma'am 🤨 what happened to bessie? 😭

uber_y/n someone (not saying any names [max] ) SHATTERED HER BACK WINDOW

max_v I hope you like bessie 2.0 schatje

uber_y/n I dooooooo(not)

max_v woman 🙄

land0 you just had to go for my cousin 😐😑😐

uber_y/n he was very charismatic, unlike you noRIZZ 🫵💀

sharl_lec pls, for the love of everything good in this world, quit uber

uber_y/n NOPE on my way to pick up someone named...lewis?

max_v oh no

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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[pennyellee]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔 pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 14K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily) masterlist

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem receiving), forced oral (m receiving) spanking, squirting, cum swallowing, creampie, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language, oppressiveness

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

author's note: so as I said in the preview, this did not go as planned but I really enjoyed writing this to the point that I might do a part 2, perhaps 3, but we'll see about that. JK is delulu af here and the reader does not think through everything. For those who did not read preview and came upon this just now - originally what i wanted to build around was how Rachel Green from Friends was offered a job at Louis Vuitton but it was in Paris and Ross did not want her to go - that was supposed to be the whole plot (with slight changes ofc), well and somehow it went a bit darker than i intended so instead of rom-com, i'd rather listed it as dark romance and yandere. Hope you'll enjoy it! Love, always.

1996

“He said what now?!” The sentence burst out of you with a high-pitched tone, nearly causing your latte to spill all over your pristine white blouse and grey blazer. Not exactly the ideal way to kick off a new month, you mused as your friend dropped the bombshell about a certain someone.

“That you’re the future mother of his children,” said your friend, an amused smirk playing on her face. “I seriously don’t know how you can still resist him, girl.” But resist him, you did.

Jeon Jungkook was undoubtedly one of the most sought-after and sexiest heartthrobs of the decade, possessed the best face card in the industry and carried the biggest ego in all of New York City. You could vividly recall the day he strolled inside of your office with the head of your department. A cocky, playful grin plastered on his face the moment his eyes landed on you.

Right from the very beginning, you made it crystal clear to Jungkook that your relationship would be strictly professional during your collaboration on the Calvin Klein project. He was given his own collection of men’s wear, and the job to work with him fell upon you.

You knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you to elevate your standing within the fashion circle. Jeon Jungkook’s fame was immense, and your name would be signed on the collection too. It’s not like you are head over heels that your name would be associated specifically with Jeon Jungkook, but you understood right away that this could put you on the radar. Your boss had even hinted at the possibility of a higher position within the department.

He constantly teased you, flirted shamelessly, and crossed boundaries by touching you as if you were his girlfriend. It was wildly inappropriate, especially given that the two of you had never even gone out for a work dinner or lunch alone. There were always other people from the team, and yet he always managed to find a way to sit right next to you. But it seems Jungkook was still living in an illusion where you were his girlfriend.

Your gaze shifted to the majestic Twin Towers, standing proudly in the distance, as you let out an annoyed puff of air.

“He’s ridiculous,” you finally declared.

“Or cute,” countered your friend, opposing your viewpoint. She found this pseudo-relationship with Jungkook amusing, but a small part of her secretly wished you’d just give in and go out with him. It was quite some time since you were in a relationship, and Jeon Jungkook would definitely be a nice catch. You were not interested. Or you tried to persuade others that you aren’t.

“No, ridiculous,” you retorted again, lips pursed, and brows furrowed.

“Oh, come on, give him a chance finally!!” she exclaimed.

“Absolutely not! He’s egoistic, manipulative, a cocky little bastard with damn good hair,” you said, your tone rising as you reached your final proclamation, which had simply slipped out of your mind that way.

“See? One good thing — good hair. Marry him,” she laughed it off.

“Now you’re being ridiculous, and I’m going to be late for work.” You said while dusting your black skirt, grabbing your purse, and leaving a few bucks for the coffee. The song on the radio stopped your departure for a moment, listening to the familiar voice coming from it, you rolled your eyes.

“That’s a clear sign, Y/N. Give it a chance!” she called after you, and you couldn’t help but throw a side eye her way, though a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips nonetheless.

As the day passed, you found yourself increasingly entangled in the whirlwind of meetings, fittings, and photoshoots with an ever-present Jungkook. The photoshoots, in particular, became a source of both frustration and amusement. However today, a bigger problem surfaced.

“Why’s he half-naked, Lucy?!” You hissed at your assistant. Normally, you are very kind and respectful to everyone, but Jungkook had managed to irk you the moment you stepped into your office, finding him already seated in your chair with that smirk you despised. Bringing a coffee for you, which you never drink, or donuts that you always share with the department - not eating one yourself.

Jungkook, adorned in the latest Calvin Klein designs you two had meticulously crafted together, claimed a personal touch of his persona— at least, that’s how he described it. He looked effortlessly handsome, the camera adoring him, but what grated on your nerves was that his attention was solely focused on teasing you.

“We also have shirts, why is he not wearing one?!” You continued, expressing your disagreement to what was before you. What angered you even more was that you could not stop staring at his abs.

“We shot with shirts earlier. They said the underwear and jeans will appear more artistic if his V line and abs—”

“Alright! Alright!” You stopped her in mid-sentence. You didn’t want to look that way nor you didn’t want to admit that showcasing his V-line would enhance the aesthetics of the jeans. Therefore, you took a deep breath and walked towards the refreshments, you were in need of a second cup of coffee.

You heard the photographer call for a break, but you were focused on calming yourself with a steaming cup of coffee. Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny that he looked breath-taking in the outfits you had designed, and it infuriated you.

Suddenly, two arms were laid flat on the table’s surface, caging you in between. You could imagine his devilish grin. He did this way too often, whether it was his fingers lightly tracing your arm or tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, looking intently into your eyes until you were fighting yourself to not get lost in his Bambi eyes.

“We’re almost done for today,” he whispered seductively into your right ear, his lips almost touching it. Your breath stammered.

“And yet you did not learn a single thing about professionalism or work ethic.” You bit sarcastically, turning slowly to face him.

Jungkook���s grin only widened at your remark, and you couldn’t decide whether you were infuriated or slightly flustered by his audacity. He leaned in even closer, his breath grazing your ear as he spoke in a low, husky tone.

“Tutor me then, in bedroom — preferably” he suggested, his lips still dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

“I don’t think so. You’re beyond help,” you shot back, trying to assert control over the situation. His proximity was distracting, and you couldn’t afford to let him undermine the fact that you were in charge.

Jungkook continued to hover over you, the photographer calling for everyone to regroup for the next set of shots. You seized the opportunity to escape his magnetic pull, smoothly slipping out from between the table and his arms, deciding to escape to your humble office, seeking solace in the calmness it provided.

It wasn’t long before the shoot officially ended, and you knew damn well, that the man wouldn’t leave you alone. The door creaked open, and you turned to find Jungkook leaning against the frame, that infernal smirk still etched onto his face.

“We did a good job, why don’t we celebrate it over at my place, baby?” he complimented, but there was an undertone of something else in his voice. You overlooked his physique and leaned back in your chair, narrowing your eyes, making a clicking sound with your tongue.

“Jungkook, again, this was a professional collaboration. Nothing more,” you asserted, emphasising each word. If you did not say this sentence at least a hundred times you don’t know. He never takes it seriously; it appears as he is still trying to hammer his way into your guarded heart.

He pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered closer. “We’ll see about that,” he said, leaving you with a cryptic grin as he exited your office. The only thing you could do is sigh.

Before you went to continue working, you heard how Jungkook’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“I bet I can change your mind, sweetheart!”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath.

“Not a chance.”

The denim collection with Jungkook was taking shape, and the buzz surrounding the collaboration grew with each passing day. A success, your boss was much more than pleased.

This success, however, meant even more for you. You were on cloud nine, basking in the glory of your hard work and the prospect of a ground-breaking partnership. Totally, forgetting to play unreachable when it came to the clinging boy who starred in this iconic collaboration. And that must have given him a false hope, perhaps a narrative in which you were his girl.

You were sitting in your office when you hung up the telephone after speaking with the vice president of Guess that contacted you earlier last week, offering you a part in a project for their brand, in Los Angeles. A dream come true for you. Leaving this place, after years of building your career from scratch, felt overwhelming. You loved working under Klein, yet it was time for you to take it higher. Your boss did not offer you a new position, and therefore, you did not hesitate to take the job opportunity and elevate yourself in fashion ranks.

It was an offer too tempting to resist, and you found yourself diving headfirst into the project, not even looking at the door when someone stepped in without knocking.

“You may leave the reception reports on the table, Lucy,” you said once feeling a presence in your office, not raising your eyesight from your computer, writing the prompts for the project Guess wants you to lead. Your twelve days’ notice already printed out, ready to be signed by your boss. You planned to stop by his office after you would finish writing the draft and sending it to the Guess team together with the copy of your portfolio that you needed to make before you leave.

When there were no reports left on your table after a good long minute, you looked up.

“You can’t just leave.” he said, standing tall in the frame of the door, stepping inside once you finally gave him your attention. You could sense a hint of desperation and anger in his voice.

You raised your brows at him. How does he know? The mere thought of you leaving for LA, leaving him behind, was enough to make him confess the depth of his feelings.

You leaned to the leather armchair and listened to him closely.

“What are you talking about Jungkook?” His eyes betrayed a mix of anxiety and vulnerability as he blurted out his fears.

“What about us? What about everything we’ve built together?” He stepped closer to your desk, looking directly to your eyes. You were taken aback by the raw emotion in his words. The air in the room thickened.

The once-confident man now stood vulnerable before you, stripped of the bravado that had defined him. And you were utterly confused and surprised how delusional this man is.

“What are you even saying, Jungkook?” you questioned, your tone a mix of confusion and frustration.

“You can’t leave me!” He raised his voice an octave higher.

“Calm your tits. I’m a grown-up woman. I can do what I want.” You sassed back at him, tired of this made up situation-ship in his head. He scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“We’ve built something special, and I can’t watch it crumble because of some job offer!” He continued his rampage. You took a moment to breathe his words in, closing your eyes and counting to ten to calm yourself.

“Jungkook, I appreciate your honesty, but I can’t give you what you’re asking for.” This caught him by surprise. Instead of screaming at him, you chose to play the I’ll stay calm and professional card.

His eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of confusion and hurt clouding his features. “What do you mean?”

Choosing your words carefully, you said: “I genuinely value this project we worked on together, but it’s time for us to part our ways.” To fool him was your goal.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling upon him. “Who are you lying to, Y/N?” His words shocked you.

“I’m not lying Jungkook, I’m telling you the truth to your face, as you were too stubborn to hear it before.” You stood up from your chair, moving to lean on the front of your desk, to show him he cannot get to you.

The room fell into a heavy silence as Jungkook looked deep into your eyes, searching for the truth in your words.

“So, it’s all about the career for you? You’re willing to sacrifice everything else, including us?” Your jaw clenched, but you maintained your composed façade and with flaring nostrils and clenched teeth, you spoke.

“There is no us, Jungkook. Get it into your head already!” So much for being calm. The room crackled with tension as the argument reached an impasse. Jungkook shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

“I can’t believe you’re throwing away what we have because of some job.” Your eyes widened even more and the fact he would not listen boiled your blood.

“Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m not your girlfriend! I was never your girlfriend, and I will never be your girlfriend!”

But Jungkook wasn’t ready to accept defeat. His frustration reached a boiling point too, and without warning, he grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into an intense, angry kiss. It was a clash of emotions, a tumultuous blend of passion and anger that fuelled the fiery exchange.

Your initial instinct was to resist, to push him away, but the intensity of the kiss ignited a different kind of fire within you. His lips moved fiercely against yours, gripping your ass in his hands, making you moan to his lips. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the dishevelled locks as the kiss deepened, your frustration causing to tug them. He growled from pleasure at the sensation.

It was a collision of lips and tongues, a heated exchange that spoke volumes without a single word. Once his hands disappeared under your skirt and the heat intensified, a sudden surge of clarity washed over you, breaking the intoxicating spell.

With a forceful push, you broke away from the kiss, creating a space between you and Jungkook. You locked eyes with him, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of the situation.

“I need you to leave,” you stated, your voice cutting through the lingering tension, you leaned against the desk, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment.

Jungkook, still caught in the haze of desire, tried to close the distance again, but you held up a hand, halting his advance.

“Leave!” You growled, turning your back to him. You didn’t want him to see your face anymore, because soon enough, tears would break from your eyes. You’re overwhelmed.

A loud bang of the door signalled that he finally understood and left. Breaking down with tears streaming down your cheeks you gasped for air. Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to regain composure.

You’ve counted to ten again, wiping your tears. You felt taken advantage of. He went too far this time. But this was only the beginning of his tremulous and wicked plan he had for you.

You packed your purse, ready to leave your office, you just needed to grab your work portfolio that you needed to send over to Guess. But the space it always inhabited, on the conference table, was empty. And you had one lucky guess who the thief was. “Fucking bastard.”

In the days that followed, the chaos in your personal and professional life escalated. The stolen portfolio, a representation of your work, became a haunting absence. As if the life source of your hard work was cut down.

Determined to salvage what remained of your career, you began the arduous task of recreating it. But time was not on your side, and as you delved into the meticulous process, news of your termination from Calvin Klein reached you like a punch to the gut.

The phone call was impersonal, a cold voice delivering the news of your dismissal as if reading from a script. Some Jack from the HR department spoke to you, someone you have never ever seen in the building whatsoever. Your boss did not even pick up the call when you wanted to ask what made them push the decision to let you go. You certainly did not deserve this after years of working for the brand. The reasons were vague and you knew this had to source from someone powerful. In simple terms, someone snitched that you’re planning to leave.

As the reality of unemployment settled in, you clung to the remnants of optimism that lingered, but even that proved elusive.

You were hundred percent sure that he is trying to sabotage your whole life when the call from Guess, a reason you did not fight for your position at Klein’s delivered another blow.

Their decision not to collaborate with you crushed the remnants of optimism that clung to your spirit. The dream that had seemed within reach now slipped through your fingers, leaving you in a free fall of uncertainty.

They hadn’t even granted you the courtesy of waiting for your portfolio, even though it wouldn’t be what they expected. Whatever oral agreement had been in place disintegrated. So here you are — jobless.

All this left you reeling with disbelief. The career you had meticulously built, the dreams that had taken years to nurture, all unravelling at the seams. The pain was visceral, a mix of frustration, anger, and a profound sense of betrayal.

You were certain that Jeon Jungkook himself was pulling the strings behind the scenes. And you hated him for it, needed to confront him and say that shit with your chest right to his face— he can go fuck himself. Set the record straight once you’re there.

Whatever he was thinking by ruining your career will force you to do, he better fix it before you’ll sing to the media about his bunny smile and kind heart being all fake. The line had been crossed, and he would face the consequences of pushing you to the brink. Or so you thought it would go how your brain delusional thought it through.

Hence, with a heavy heart and a determination to confront the chaos head-on, you stood before the front door of his infamous penthouse. Emotions swirling within you like a tempest.

With a deep breath, you knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. The door swung open, revealing Jungkook’s bunny smile reaching his eyes.

“Well, well well, are we ready to talk like adults, pretty?” He mocked this whole situation because he knew this would end up in his favour, nonetheless.

He moved back to let you in, and you stepped into his apartment, a mixture of anger and desperation in your gaze.

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise, I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink? —” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you could not help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

“I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently, he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—” you pushed him away from you once you heard his words. Grabbing your jacket and storming your way out to the door, angry with yourself that you let it go this far.

“You walk out that door, and you’re done in this city, fuck even the whole continent if I want,” Jungkook declared, his tone heavy with a sense of entitlement. The words hung in the air, a threat laced with possessiveness that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re bluffing.” His eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths.

“You’re underestimating the consequences, Y/N. I’ll snap my fingers, and you won’t get a job. Anywhere.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips. You did not believe him one bit, determined to try harder at the job hunting.

“You’ve already done enough. You can’t do worse.” You scoffed, the absurdity of his demands pushing you further away. He stepped closer, the air thick with tension.

“You’re not leaving, Y/N. Either you’ll be my good girl and apologise, or all it will take is one phone call.” As you reached for the doorknob, he grabbed your arm with a force that bordered on aggression.

“I am my own woman, Jungkook.” Your eyes flashed with determination as you wrenched your arm free, emphasising every word of the sentence you just uttered.

With that, you swung the door open and stormed out, leaving Jungkook’s apartment and the tumultuous mess behind. The city lights greeted you outside, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere within.

Your telephone remained eerily silent, devoid of the calls and opportunities that once filled it with promise. Jungkook’s vindictiveness had effectively severed the threads connecting you to your professional life, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainties.

A tear escaped your eye as you clutched the piece of paper you fetched out of your mailbox — an eviction notice. You had fallen behind on rent, pleading with your landlord for more time, promising to pay in full for two months once you secured a job. But that ended up not happening, and that’s how you find yourself sitting in a messy apartment full of half packed boxes, no job, little money left, and a bottle of cheap wine.

Moving in with friends or seeking refuge with your parents was not an option. They never supported your dreams enough to provide for you in such dire circumstances, especially at your age. Unmarried, jobless, and on the brink of homelessness, you felt trapped.

Despite your efforts to secure another job, including poorly recreating parts of your portfolio, rejections piled up, and the search for a new apartment proved equally futile. Not like you could afford it anyway.

The city that once held promise now felt like a maze of closed doors and dead ends. The mere thought of dialling his number sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of pride and necessity wrestling within you.

You drank the last of your wine, hiccupped, and cried. With only twenty-four hours to vacate your flat for the new tenant to come in. The friends you once thought you could rely on were facing their own struggles, unable to provide the sanctuary you so desperately needed. You had nowhere to go apart to his clutches if you of course did not want to freeze to death in the bustling city. It confused you how it came to having no other option.

Taking a deep breath, you dialled his number, each ring echoing the surrender of your independence. The telephone rang in your trembling hand. As the call connected, a heavy silence hung in the air and you desperately tried to calm your breathing.

“Jeon speaking,” his voice crackled through the phone. You were shaking in cold sweat, your eyes blood red from crying and alcohol clouded your mind enough to call him.

“Hello?” you heard his voice speak again, and another sob left your lips. The lump in your throat made it difficult to speak, but you pushed through the discomfort.

“I-I’m sorry.” The man on the other line smirked, seemingly thrilled to hear your voice. The next sentence you uttered, however, was even sweeter music to his ears.

“I need you.”

You heard his car park in front of your building the next morning. The boxes were long gone on their way to the heart of Manhattan where Jungkook’s penthouse awaited. It was only you and your suitcase with only necessities packed inside. The reality of the situation hit you as you looked around at the empty apartment. The purple walls, once full of pictures from trips with your friends, were now bare. The fridge stripped of silly magnets you liked to collect, stood empty. Nothing left.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the handle of your suitcase with a sense of resignation. You glanced out of the window on your way out, finding Jungkook casually leaning against his shiny black Jaguar, smiling directly at you. Closing your eyes, you mentally said goodbye to your small apartment.

Your hair, lazily put into a hair clip when you woke up, had a few stray strands escaping, framing your face that still showed signs of swelling from crying all night.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the door closing behind you, the weight of the suitcase in your hand served as a physical reminder of the choice you had made. Is this really your only option?

The sound of Jungkook’s footsteps echoed in the corridor, approaching closer with each passing second. He ran up the stairs just as you were locking the door. His gummy smile met your gaze, a clear expression of his happiness. The heartthrob had finally gotten you where he wanted you all along.

He was dressed in a denim jacket and jeans from the collection you worked on. As if he was intent on reminding you of something. His long curly locks were gone, replaced by a short mullet.

You, on the other hand, did not feel to dress classy and elegant as you usually did. You swapped heels for a pair of white sneakers, a tight designer skirt for simple blue boyfriend jeans and your upper body was covered by a white shirt layered with a pink shirt you loosely tight on your waist, leaving the buttons half open.

“Baby?” he called out. You must’ve zoned out, as now he was holding your suitcase in his hand, ready to leave.

“M’sorry, I was in my head,” you apologised. You didn’t want to upset him by negatively reacting to the pet name even though you irked to tell him you’re not his baby.

He smiled softly, putting the suitcase down, walking over to you. He caressed your cheek, leaning in for a kiss. Turning your face, he landed his lips on your other cheek. The man chuckled and put the freed strands of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t worry. I got you now.”

The drive to Jungkook’s penthouse was filled with an uncomfortable silence as the city lights passed by in a dizzying display.

“Welcome home!” The words hung in the air, the irony not lost on you. This was far from a home; it was a gilded cage you succumbed to. You did not answer him. You couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

He was saying something about a closet, but your mind totally spaced out looking at the boxes that you packed hours prior, casually sitting in his living room.

“Baby?” You looked at him, eyes wide when you realised you were not listening to him again.

“Do you want to start unpacking or should we head out for brunch first?” He approached you. Jungkook did not stop smiling since he pulled his car in front of your building.

Unpacking felt like an acceptance of this new reality, while brunch felt like an attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy.

“I... I think we should talk,” you finally managed to say, your voice carrying the uncertainty that lingered within. Jungkook’s smile wavered for a moment, but he quickly masked it.

You couldn’t ignore the fact that your life had taken a sharp turn, and the unfamiliar surroundings only intensified the sense of displacement. Jungkook threw himself at his sofa just where you were sitting months prior. He motioned with his hand, silently ordering you to sit.

“I promise not to bother you long. I just need you to get me off the blacklist so I can get a job. I can’t be tied to you indefinitely.” You spoke softly, careful to not anger him just yet. You knew he wouldn’t appreciate the direction this conversation was heading, but you needed to set the record straight. This was temporary, at least in your mind.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, a subtle tension in his features. He sighed. Leaning forward, Jungkook grabbed the remote control of the HiFi that was standing proud, setting it on, and whence the soft tones of Isaak’s “Wicked Game” resonated the penthouse, you could not help but raise an eyebrow.

He petted his knee, a silent invitation. You were not stupid to not understand what he wants, yet you opted to sit next to him instead of where he wanted you.

“Maybe we got lost in translation, love.” He spoke leaning closer to you. The music seemed to underscore the unspoken tension in the room.

“You won’t leave me, baby. I’ll keep you so satisfied and happy; you won’t even want to go.” He whispered to your ear. The atmosphere became charged with a palpable desire. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of temptation and resistance.

“You can’t keep me here against my will, Jungkook,” you asserted, maintaining a thin thread of defiance. Yet, the allure of his touch lingered in the air, clouding your better judgement.

“Try me, love. I’ve got ways to make you stay,” he countered, his tone dripping with confidence.

It took all you have in you to stand up and storm to the large windows that provided a magnificent view of Manhattan. This time, however, he was right behind you.

You heard him growl. He was angry, and he proved so once you found yourself pinned to the large window, your back facing him. He attacked your neck right away, bruising every single inch. His hand roamed over your breast, squeezing them to the point you had to moan. The situation escalated rather quickly, your resistance made him press you to his back even harder.

“I’m so tired of your running,” he groaned into your neck. You put your hands on the glass trying to push yourself away and give yourself space to free from his grasp, but he has put a majority of his weight on you. You can feel his growing pulsating bulge on your heart-shaped bottom.

“Maybe I should show you, who you belong to, princess.” He cupped your sex through your pants, and you whimpered from the sensation. You knew this was utterly wrong; you should not react to his touch this way, but you couldn’t help to notice the wetness pooling in between your legs once he continues to attack your neck with his soft plump lips.

“Jungkook-” You tried to resist, but his hand was already done with unbuttoning your jeans, sliding right down to your core. Your panties were sticky, your head was spinning, and the part of a window was getting foggy right next to your mouth from your hot breath.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He pulled his hand out of your pants for a second to wet his fingers and put them right back on the little bud that was waiting to be touched. He pressed his fingertips on your clit, circling it painfully slow. The heartthrob rutted his hips into your ass, looking for a friction, making you move your hips towards his hand. He chuckled to your ear.

“If you want that job, baby, why don’t you deserve it first?” you could sense a little hint of mockery in his voice. The pulsating beats of the music seemed to echo the rhythm of his movements. Now slow and calculated.

As the song reached its crescendo, his finger entered your vibrating heat. “Hm?” He pried, his finger moving in and out in punishingly slow, drawing silent moans from you when he brushed up the right spot.

“W-what do you want?” You stammered out of yourself.

“You. All of you of course.” Jungkook replied in a heartbeat. Your heart raced and your head was clouded by the pleasure he was providing. Moving his finger slightly faster, you found yourself bowing forward, your body wanted him to reach deeper.

“Please—” you whimpered when he slowed down the tempo again.

“Give me an answer baby, will you be my good girl?” Now it was your mind that raced, grappling with the implications of his question while squeezing your walls around his finger.

“Maybe you need a little more convincing, hm?” He softly bit your earlobe whilst inserting his second finger into your heat, making you moan louder than before. You pressed your forehead onto the glass and looked down at his hand in between your legs. The sight made your pussy clench even harder. A small tear escaped your eye, you are overwhelmed, and the pleasure is clouding your sound judgement.

“What will it be, baby?” His fingers finally raised the tempo, and your eyesight was getting blurry, biting your lip from the sensation.

“Fuck—” you nibbed at your bottom lip a bit harder, trying to fight with yourself. But you couldn’t. He was playing a game, and he was winning this round.

“Yes!” you screamed louder than you intended when he hit the sweet spot, making you see stars. You did not necessarily want to agree. It was more of a reaction to how good his fingers feel inside of you. But Jungkook’s interpretation did not align with yours.

What you did not expect is the sudden feel of emptiness once his fingers abdicated its place. You protested with an unpleasant whine of frustration.

He spun you to face him, being quick enough to grab you below your ass, illocutionary forcing you to jump up. Jungkook leaned in to kiss you while he navigated the apartment blindly, right to the master bedroom.

Now you were feeling thrown. Literally. Your body bounced a little while Jungkook stood at the foot of his king sized bed adorned in black sheets. You could smell his expensive cologne on them. He was very eager to continue what you started.

His shirt was long gone and so were his pants when he was pulling down yours, alongside with your through-and-through wet panties. He very quickly inhabited his head in between your legs. Licking all the dirty juice your pussy was producing.

You could not help but to bury your fingers into his hair, slightly tugging on it once he decided to abuse your clit, sucking on it, his piercing cold against your skin. You were starting to feel the knot inside your lower belly, moaning and panting out loud.

“I’m gonna!—” you breathed out heavily. Squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the heat rushing your body.

“Not yet,” said the heartthrob, parting away from you. You shot your eyes open to look at him towering over you, his briefs thrown away somewhere in the room, and his pride leaning proudly against his abdomen, angry and red. The perfect opposite of soft. You gulped down. He was definitely not lying when he suggested he is thick.

The heartthrob helped you get rid of the rest of your clothes, bending down to lay a single kiss right above your clit, maintaining eye contact with you all the time. Sticking his tongue out yet again, making a straight wet line up your belly, ending at the valley between your breasts.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned, squeezing your tits while pumping his dick, he could not take it anymore.

He spread your legs further, making space for him to fit right in. Your walls are trembling from excitement, especially when he presses the length of his cock to your lips, coating himself in your juices.

“Condo—” you went to say when his lips silenced you in a hard passionate kiss. He moaned to your mouth, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance, stretching you open. You pressed your hands to his chest, parting away from him. He looked at you with confusion and you repeated yourself.

“Condom, Guk,” you said, using the nickname in an attempt to soften his hard features. Something told you that you might have just pissed him off. The heartthrob sighed and involuntarily got up, walking all the way to the bathroom, giving you a million-dollar view of his ass. Your gaze then shifted to his muscular shoulders, involuntarily admiring his impressive physique. You couldn’t deny he was hot as hell.

Your nipples were perky from the thrill that your body was going through. It was quite some time since the last you got laid. Maybe that’s why it took him minimum effort to turn you into a whiny, needy little bitch.

You heard the light switch going off in the bathroom, and the man himself appearing in the doorframe with the little shiny square in his hands. Tearing it open, he returned to sit on his knees on the bed while sliding the condom on.

He grabbed your legs under your knees with one swift movement, sliding you closer to him. One hand aiming his cock to your entrance the other finding its place on your throat, holding it with the right pressure to elevate your pleasure. Pushing all the way through, you whimpered loudly at the intrusion. He was big, and you felt like you’re going to explode. The heat rushed through you like a momentary fever.

The heartthrob could not wait for you to adjust to his size, and he started to snap his hips into you in a punishing tempo, making your body bounce up at every thrust and clench your eyes shut tightly. Loud moans coming out of you.

“You take me so well, baby.” He whispered into your ear seductively, panting and groaning from the pleasure. He was on cloud nine, finally having the woman he longed for quite some time.

“Got me waiting for this pussy almost the whole damn year.” You met his hungry gaze, your moaning synchronised with his. He crushed his lips to yours one more time before thrusting his cock in and out of your heat faster and deeper.

You bit down on his lip, him groaning at the sensation, slapping your ass in the heat of the moment.

“This pussy was fucking designed for me.” He claimed you.

He was hitting all the right places, making you squeeze your eyes shut again. He upheld his promise to fuck you good. You can regret this after, now it’s not the time.

“M’wanna pound this pretty ass too.” He pulled out of you, turning you to lay on your belly, slapping the already reddened skin before setting you on all fours, ass up. He did not hesitate to rut inside of you again, feeling him all the way in your stomach, you screamed his name.

“Jungkook!” his thrusts set a brutal pace that you were not sure if you’ll survive. Their moans continued to echo in the room.

“You belong to me.” He growled, pounding your pussy, the sound of skin slapping was audible ten times louder than usual. The knot in your lower belly appeared again, got you moaning uncontrollably.

Jungkook sensed that your climax was near and went to rub your clit with the desire to make you cum all over him while getting himself off with you.

“Guk—” you choked on your words, your legs and hands were trembling, tears springing out of your eyes. You desperately needed to cum.

“I know, baby.” He kissed the arch of your back, making his hand and hips move even faster, hitting your cervix. If this is heaven, you don’t want to leave.

“I-I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” You shouted, feeling the knot untying itself rather quickly. Jungkook growled right to your ear. He was close too, dangerously close.

“Baby!” He whimpered, feeling the tension rising.

Your juice splashed the sheets as you squirted all over his cock, crying, the orgasm hitting you way too hard. Jungkook’s hips did not stop while he chased his own release, complimenting you, your body, and how you are such a good girl while doing so. With a loud moan and one last deep thrust, he came in you, holding you still while he emptied himself. The warmth of his release felt too authentic, but you were too fucked out to notice.

As you were also too fucked out to notice the empty abandoned condom laying on the ground.

“I love you so much baby—”

It was getting dark outside when you woke up, your head pounding as you looked over your naked body and evident ache in between your legs. The sheer curtains that are covering the floor to ceiling windows, once airy and light, now filter the early evening light into a soft, diffused glow, creating a cosy atmosphere. You cuddled the soft sheets that were wrapped around your lower body, thinking that you could sleep some more.

But when you heard the muted notes of En Vogue’s Whatta Man blasting somewhere in the penthouse, any hopes of serenity were shattered. A curse slipped through your lips as the reality of your surroundings hit you.

“Fuck,” you muttered through your teeth, the small fists pounding against the bed. To muffle the scream of mixed emotions, you seized a leopard-patterned pillow, pressing it against your face.

You had willingly let this happen, all for the pursuit of a damn book and damn fucking job and your damn fucking career. But why was it so precious, you might ask? Your portfolio wasn’t just a collection of pages bound together; it was a culmination of dreams, aspirations, and relentless hard work. Each design you made over the years, a carefully curated piece of your artistic vision, held a piece of your soul.

The portfolio was your identity as a designer, a visual storyteller who poured emotions, creativity, and skill into each piece of clothing. It was something you presented yourself with, and you believed it held the power to open doors. It got you your first adult job after you spent two years in the big apple on your own, dreaming big while washing dishes behind the counter.

And it got you the second job of your early fashion career, a higher position than sales assistant, the head designer at the men’s wear division at Calvin Klein. You were aiming to become the head of the department when a better offer came your way, from Guess.

The project they offered you to be a part of was a kind of interview to get through and sit as the executive director of the women’s department. You were thrilled to accept as you always wanted to design for your gender.

And he fucked it up. So, you have to excuse yourself by letting your guard down, giving him a chance to sway you. You are doing this for you and your career.

You sat on the bed, eyeing the modern bedroom that screamed his name as did the smell of the room. Just like you remembered before you blacked out from all the pleasure he forced upon you.

Sighing, you moved your sore naked body to the edge of the bed. A black leather armchair caught your eye, a clean set of underwear laid out on it, burning under your gaze. You gulped down. This was your mess after all. You let him come too close—extremely close, judging by the recurring ache between your legs.

“Fuck it, it’s fine.” You’d manage somehow, or at least, that’s how you decided to play along with his nonsensical fantasy and possessive behaviour.

You tiptoed down the penthouse, searching for the devil. You knew you were going the right way when the music grew louder. Peeking from the narrow hallway into the living room, he was nowhere in sight. Only the RCA telly with MTV on indicated that he must’ve been there.

The sizzling sound of something cooking and a pleasant aroma hit your ears and nose. He was in the kitchen, cooking. Jeon Jungkook was in the kitchen, cooking. A certain degree of domesticity welcomed you as you stepped into the all-blue kitchen. His kitchen was way nicer than yours, you noted. Large cabinets, the island full of food ingredients he was preparing. Your gaze lingered as your eyes traced his masculine, naked back, tattoos shouting at you. Your knees felt weak at the sight, your body reacting to him as if he were the alpha wolf.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip. He was swaying his hips to the rhythm of the song. Even from this point of view, you could tell he is in a very good mood. It seemed like he was glowing.

You leaned against the arch, contemplating whether to make your presence known or observe from the shadows. Before you could decide, he turned around, planning to cut the vegetables, his eyes locking onto yours immediately. Bunny smile plastered on his face, reaching his ears — a juxtaposition to how anxious you looked in his big shirt.

Quickly circling the kitchen island, he reached you in a matter of seconds. The heartthrob was beaming with happiness seeing you in his kitchen, in his shirt, barefoot, face raw, and all his. At least, that was his perspective after he finally got you where he wanted you.

“Baby!” He squeaked happily, pulling you by your wrists. The movement causes your petite frame to collide with his naked torso. Jungkook did not let you speak even if you wanted to, instead he pulled you even closer, pressing his lips to yours. You yelped, surprised by the unexpected collision. The vulnerability you felt in his presence only heightened as he claimed you, his happiness seemingly derived from having you exactly where he wanted—vulnerable and dependent on him.

The kiss lingered for a moment, and as Jungkook pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours again, gleaming with an unspoken mischief you could not decipher. He seemed to revel in the flustered state he had induced, and a cocky grin played on his lips.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, his warm breath grazing your ear as he finally released your wrists, pecking your lips softly again. The shirt you wore clung to your form.

“It’s almost five pm.” You muttered back after you gave the digital clock on the stove a glance. He laughed it off, not replying.

“How do you like your steak?” he asked, his tone casual as if the passionate kiss hadn’t just occurred.

“M-medium rare,” you stammered, still processing the sudden turn of events. He chuckled, the sound resonating in the cosy kitchen as he came back to the stove to resume cooking, what you assumed is your dinner. Your stomach growled loudly when the delicious smell hit your nostrils, loudly. Jungkook even looked your way, encouraging you to take whatever you wanted from the fridge that was next to him, until dinner was ready.

You looked at the silver double-door fridge, and suddenly, your hunger vanished. Those were your magnets that were on your fridge just hours prior. He went through your boxes and unpacked them. The world was spinning, and your stomach was dangerously twisting.

He noticed the change in your expression, the playfulness in his eyes fading as he followed your gaze to the fridge.

“Something wrong, baby?” he inquired. You swallowed hard, attempting to mask the unease that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“No, nothing,” you replied, forcing a tight smile. His attention returned to the stove, the sizzling sounds and savoury aroma filling the kitchen. The clock on the stove continued its indifferent march towards evening. But your mind stopped.

“I-I think—” you stammered, it was hard for you to speak when there was an evident lump in your throat that wanted to emerge to the surface.

“Baby?” he raised a brow at you, letting everything he was doing to approach you again. You gulped down, trying to breathe it out.

“I think... I need—,” you tried, the words escaping in a breathy whisper. Jungkook’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern as he stepped closer. That got you even more anxious and a quick escape was a way you opted.

Your legs carried you back to the room where you knew a bathroom would be near. You heard him calling your name, but he did not run to get you. He must have thought that you’re trying to run again, but when he saw you going the way the master bedroom is, he did not push it.

You slumped right to your knees, emptying your already empty stomach into the toilet. Tears stringed from your eyes. Before you could calm or clean yourself the door creaked open, and Jungkook’s concerned voice seeped into the bathroom.

“Oh my god! Are you okay baby?” He hovered in the doorway, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. You didn’t have the strength to respond, only offering a weak nod as you continued to empty the contents of your stomach.

His footsteps approached, and you could feel him kneeling beside you, one hand tentatively rubbing your back.

“Easy, baby. Easy,” he murmured softly.

After a moment, the nausea subsided, and you leaned back against the cool porcelain, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Jungkook remained by your side, a true concern readable in his eyes.

As you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but notice the familiar objects around the bathroom. Toothbrush, hairbrush, all your makeup and even your pyjamas, had found a place alongside Jungkook’s in the bathroom. He was blurring the lines between your lives.

Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you winced at the sight of prominent hickeys and bite marks adorning your neck. You caught Jungkook’s worrying gaze but did not pay attention to it longer than you needed to.

“When was the last time you ate properly, baby?” he asked, caressing the small of your back, kissing the top of your head. You touched the tender skin on your neck, a mix of shame and regret settling in the pit of your stomach.

You knew very well that this wasn’t a doing of the lack of nutrition within your body but it did stop you to think for a second. When was the last time you had a proper meal and not a cheap ramen noodles from a convenience store near your building? You did not recall, so you rather opted to shrug your shoulders and reach for your toothbrush that could have melted under your gaze at this point.

“Why don’t you freshen up, and I’m going to finish dinner.” He sighed and kissed your temple. You’ve let him. He has done worse. As he left the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed—physically, emotionally, and now even in your most private spaces. Your eyes lingered back on the assortment of makeup and personal items neatly arranged beside his.

Brushing your teeth never felt so foreign and unnatural. Your eyes darted around his room after you finished, and that’s when you noticed what you did not when you woke up —a closet, half-filled with your clothes. Neatly folded, hanged right beside his. Even your jewellery was sorted by the type of metal. Your shoes, your skirts, dresses, everything. He had seamlessly integrated your wardrobe into his, as if signalling an intention far beyond a temporary stay.

Then all your pictures scattered on the walls as you walked down the corridor back to the heartthrob who swayed you here. Feeling the unease building in your stomach again.

Jungkook stood by the table, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you approach. His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and possession. This all seemed like a stage for a performance you hadn’t signed up for.

The steak, perfectly cooked to your liking, accompanied by a side of vegetables. The spread looked delectable, and your stomach rumbled again, reminding you that you hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The scent of the meal teased your senses.

As you picked at your food, a question lingered in the back of your mind—how had it come to this? Have you really had no choice but him? Was this worth the trouble? Perhaps.

Your parents would think of you as a failure if you returned home. and your pride did not allow you to pick up your old job and be a girl for everything. You worked in the fashion industry and you were willing to do anything to maintain it.

“Are you listening to me, baby?” Jungkook broke the stream of your consciousness, his voice soft yet insistent. You hummed in response but your ears could not pick precise words that left his mouth.

“There’s Grammys next week, do you have any design for the red carpet so we could match—”

“What about the job?” You interrupted him, setting your fork down, staring at him viciously.

“So the Grammys—” he tried to continue without replying to you but you were having none of it.

“So the job, Jungkook.” You said through clenched teeth one more time. You weren’t about to let him sidestep the conversation about your career.

He sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching with a momentary annoyance. The room crackled with tension, the unspoken power dynamics unravelling before you.

“You’ve been a very good girl so far—” he lifted the handkerchief he had on his lap and placed it on top of the table next to his glass of red wine.

“Why do you have to misbehave now.” His attempt to redirect the conversation towards your behaviour only fuelled your frustration.

“I’m not misbehaving, Jungkook,” you shot back, your voice sharp and unyielding. “I need to know about the job. I need to know that you’re actually doing something concrete to help me, not just playing puppeteer with my life.”

“There’s an opening at Givenchy, and Prada or Dior but—” your eyes were full of false hope.

“—until I can be sure you won’t leave me the second you get the new job. You won’t go to any interview.” He leaned back, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as if enjoying the power play.

Your mind raced, torn between ambition and self-respect. You had worked tirelessly to establish yourself, and the taste of success was within reach. Yet, the cost demanded by Jungkook was steep—an indefinite surrender of your autonomy.

“That’s not what we agreed upon—” You whined out, anxiety clutching your insights in tight grip.

“Oh but we did baby.” He answered swiftly, smiling sweetly.

“I—” you wanted to protest, but he was quick to dismiss any argument you wanted to come up with.

“I said I want you, and you agreed, baby. You can’t take it back.”

“What does that even mean?!” You whined out.

“That I won’t let you slip through my fingers again. You belong here with me, and you better learn your place or prepare for a farewell with the magnificent fashion world of yours.” The ultimatum echoed in your mind as his gaze was trying to make you submit. Jungkook’s possessiveness loomed over you, a suffocating force that sought to confine your wings.

“You can’t force me,” words slipped past your lips, a proclamation of your refusal to succumb to his dominance.

“You underestimate the lengths I’ll go to keep you, Y/N,” he retorted, his voice low and laced with a dangerous edge.

“You’re sick.” You spat out at him, standing up to leave when he grabbed you and held you tight. You were looking up at his face, seemingly angry with your words. His eyes darkened, a fleeting moment of anger crossing his features.

“Aren’t you a bit ungrateful, my love?” he seethed, his voice a low growl. The possessive tone sent shivers down your spine, but you refused to cower under his gaze.

“I’m providing you with shelter, food, money and most of all my love.”

“It’s sick, Jungkook. This isn’t love,” you shot back, your voice unwavering. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his grip unyielding. He scoffed, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“You’re testing my patience, Y/N. You’re mine,” he retorted quickly, not letting you go. You wanted to protest, to tell him to fuck off, and even worse things, but he was not finished.

“Think with your pretty little head, won’t you?—” you glared at him, defiance burning in your eyes.

“—you can live like a princess, you can have your dream position and on top of that a loving significant other — me.” The seconds felt like an eternity, the weight of his possessiveness pressing down on you.

“What is success for when you cannot share the joy with someone you love.” He whispered, a sinister undertone in his words. You had a feeling he’s not only talking about you. You had to think, and you had to think quickly.

“You’re asking me to give up my autonomy, Jungkook.” You shot back, your voice unwavering. He scoffed, the air heavy with tension.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, Y/N. You need me—” He chuckled, a condescending tone lacing his voice.

“—what were you gonna do if you didn’t come to me? Hm? Your mami and papi who are disappointed in you or your fake friends who did not bat an eye to try and help you out?—” You turned your face away from him, not wanting to let his words affect you.

“—I helped you. I am here for you!” He shook you, still holding a tight grip on you.

“All I’m asking in return is you to give yourself to me.” With a defiant push, you broke free from his grasp, leaving him seething in frustration. Covering your face with your palms, you sobbed.

“Love and loyalty is not that big of a price when you think about it.”

“You promise?” you choked out through your tears. You were tired, exhausted to the bone, and this was taking a bigger toll on you than you would expect. You wanted to trick him and instead he tricked you. But you needed to play by his rules to win in the game he started. His eyes softened momentarily, a twisted form of concern flickering in his gaze.

“I promise, baby,” he murmured, his tone almost soothing. The fire has ceased for now. Or so you thought. Despite the fragile promise, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were dancing on the edge of a precipice, held by the strings he so skilfully pulled. But the stakes were high, and you couldn’t afford to falter. You had no shelter, almost no money and no one to turn to. For now. You promised yourself, this is temporary. You will find a way out of this arrangement.

You finished your dinner. He insisted. You stripped naked while he was drawing the bath. He again insisted. The penthouse, filled with music and the fragrance of expensive candles. You allowed yourself to be led, like a puppet, your exhaustion overshadowing your instincts. As you sat there in the hot water, vulnerable, he wiped away your tears.

The water lapping against your skin is like an ominous reminder of the depths you found yourself in. Jungkook’s hands traced patterns on your back.

Jungkook, seemingly attuned to your exhaustion, wiped away your tears, the gesture carrying a strange mixture of care and control.

“It’s all gonna feel better once you accept it.” Said he, right to your ear, sending shivers down your naked body. You pressed your legs to your chest to hide yourself, a futile attempt at preserving some semblance of privacy, even though he had seen it all.

“I cannot grasp why you would do this to me, Jungkook,” you sobbed, letting him hold you against his chest.

“I did it for us, baby.” His hands firmly gripped yours now, making them stop hugging your knees. The heartthrob wanted you to relax in his presence. A laughable request considering the circumstances that led you here.

“Stop being delusional. There is no us.” You finally let him move your hands only for you to grab the frame of the bathtub and attempt to pull yourself up and away from him. He did not fancy this attempt of yours, and he let you know that by grabbing a large portion of your hair, dragging you back.

Your body slammed to his naked torso with a loud slap caused by the wet skin on skin contact. It took your breath away for a good minute.

“You didn’t seem to argue about it earlier today when my cock was hitting all-the-right-places, making you squirt, hmm?” Said the raven haired man, still holding your hair in his fist. He did not intend to hurt you, no, it was not as painful as the whole humiliating scenery and the fact you could not break free of him. He’s putting an example of what will happen once you stop behaving again. Putting you in your place — that’s what he called it.

“Matter of fact, Imma show you again that there’s us baby, until you realise it yourself.”

Trying to wiggle out of his grasp, you whimpered every time you pulled your hair back to make you stay still. And as if he changed his mind, your body was pulled out of the warm water, letting your hair go, making you fall down to the bright rug on the floor of the bathroom. Soaking it wet you looked up to him towering over your shivering physique.

“It was about time for you to show me how you are grateful to be my good girl—” he stepped closer. You did not want to look at him, knowing well what he is talking about.

“Open up baby—” you shook your head, pulling away from him and his hard member that he was holding just inches away from your face. You felt it meet your cheek and immediately retrieved yourself again which made him even more frustrated. His cock was painfully hard, and you were not cooperating.

The tattooed hand in your hair pulled you right back, his eyes bore to yours with a hard stare, and you swear they got even darker. His other hand was clutching your jaw, harder and harder until you involuntarily opened your mouth wide enough.

Taking the chance right away, he slipped his thick and hard manhood into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. He hissed at how your teeth slightly scraped his dick. You choked on it, but he was unfazed by it, continuing to thrust into your throat, making tears fall down your cheeks.

“I knew you could be my good girl.” He groaned, praising you with each of his hard thrusts into your mouth. Your breathing was shallow, and you tried to get as much air as you could. He was moaning loudly, the wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out of your mouth, covered by your saliva made him even more aroused and hungry for you.

“You just need a bit of a re-education.” He was getting lost in the pleasure your mouth was providing him, and you were deprived of the air you needed. Your hand hit his pelvis when you thought you’re going to pass out soon.

“Just a moment more, baby. I know you can take it.” He said through gritted teeth. Jungkook was panting loudly, mixing it with loud moans of your name.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re my heaven.” Your nails were scratching his abdomen, trying to break free, but his hold was too strong. You were drooling all over his cock, and your hand started to spin from the lack of oxygen and how quickly your head was bobbing.

He was getting dangerously close and his sloppy movements reflected that. He managed to pull one last thrust before he was cumming down your throat. He was letting his dick soften, pressed on your tongue while the hot semen was springing out of his tip.

“Swallow.”

The night wore on, shadows dancing on the walls as you lay there, pressed to his chest, his hand limply laying on your hip, contemplating the surreal turn you took.

If anything arose in you during the intercourse you wish you would wipe out of your mind, it was a determination to break free from the suffocating grasp of the penthouse.

Jungkook laid beside you, his breathing steady, a façade of tranquillity painted on his features. As he drifted into a seemingly serene slumber, you waited for the right moment to seize the opportunity.

When you were certain he was deeply asleep, you carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, a shiver running down your spine as you tiptoed through the room.

The moon cast a pale glow through the sheer curtains, guiding your movements as you tiptoed across the room. Your hand grasped the cold doorknob, the soft creaking of the door threatened to betray your escape. Your body frozen in time, your pupils shaking, fearing what happens if he wakes up. You wait a minute to make sure he is not coming to drag you back before you open the door in one swift movement.

You rethought the tasks you listed in your plan. Find the portfolio and get the fuck out as quick as possible. Everything else is replaceable for you. The mindset that the portfolio is the only key to all your problems, remained.

The adrenaline surged through your veins, the pulse of your heart echoing in the quiet hallway you walked through to get to the front of the penthouse.

He never took you upstairs, therefore you assumed that’s where he must’ve hidden it.

You approached the staircase, the carpet soft beneath your feet. The air seemed to grow heavier with every ascending step. The possibility of him waking up was not zero.

As you reached the upper level, you noticed the subtle shift in the ambiance. The hallway, adorned with pieces of art that whispered tales of luxury, and all his awards he won during his career, displayed to show his success. You passed several open doors, a home recording studio in one of them, be ridden of what you were looking for.

The hallway led you towards a set of double doors. That must be it. The doors creaked open, your gaze scanning for any sign of your portfolio. Your eyes flickering between the meticulously arranged accolades and the sprawling desk. He must be using this room as his office.

The seconds stretched into minutes, the urgency escalating with each passing heartbeat. You began with the drawers of the glass table, trying to be as quiet as possible. You cannot afford to cause commotion.

Anxiety wrapped around you, a vice tightening with every passing moment. You went through the library too, looked under every surface, you could not find it.

With a deep breath, you steadied yourself. There must be another place he could have hidden it. Your eyes fell upon the stack of papers, leaning your head to the side you examined the tabloid underneath with your face on it.

You fished it out in mere seconds, eyeing it unbelievably. If you were on the cover of a tabloid you would for sure know that. But you were not aware that your face appeared in Star magazine, right beside Jungkook. “Jungkook’s Mysterious Muse Revealed!” the headline screamed at you.

It was not only you after all. Society has convinced Jungkook that you two are sort of an item. A clandestine affair, a narrative spun by the society, linking your name with Jungkook’s in a tale of intrigue.

It was dated right when you started working on Klein’s campaign, back in April. It is almost the end of November now, and this is the first time you’re seeing this. You couldn’t fathom how deeply the web had been woven around you. The urgency of the situation intensified, and you combed through every conceivable hiding spot.

A sudden noise from downstairs snapped your attention. Fear gripped you, and your heart raced. Did he wake up? The urgency of the situation intensified, and you felt the weight of the clock ticking against you.

You sobbed and when you went to rub your eyes, they fell upon the other room diagonally from the one you were searching now. The doors were slightly ajar and you could see soft shades of colours within. In a last-ditch effort you marched towards it.

But ever stepping inside you regretted. The whole scenery that was revealed once you opened the door swiftly caught your breath in your throat.

The soft shades of colours painted a haunting picture—a baby room, unfinished and untouched by time. The sight startled you, sending a shiver down your spine. This can’t be.

“No..” You whispered to yourself, panicking. Your hands found their place in your hair. He is one delusional man. There is no other explanation, he is sick in the head if he thinks he is going to baby trap you.

A sense of dread overwhelmed you, and in your shock, you stumbled over something on the floor, hitting your head in the process. You groaned from the pain, forgetting that this commotion must have been loud enough for Jungkook to wake up.

As you rolled to the side, your eyes widened in disbelief. The portfolio was taped to the bottom of a cabinet. Without a second thought, you ripped it free, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

The rain outside intensified, a symphony of droplets against the windows. With the portfolio clutched in your hands, you ran down the stairs, right to the front door you prayed would not be locked. Would he be that careless? Yes. The degree of his mental instability was enough for him to believe that you are his and you would not think of running. He cut off every single option you had.

First, by making sure that your former employer would get to know you’re planning to leave the brand, enough for them to let you go. Second, he successfully obtained your portfolio that you were stupid enough to not make a copy of, which resulted in not meeting the deadline with Guess and losing that job opportunity too.

Third, he did not expect you to not stay the first you went to his penthouse but he was determined to go to extremes. So, every single fashion brand that had department stores in New York and in the rest of the world, backlisted you. No job application you sent, assistant buyer, a visibly lower position to what you had at Klein, would be turned down.

Fourth, make sure your landlord has already a tenant replacing you, ready to pay double for your apartment if they can move in as soon as possible.

That you’re alienated from your parents played his cards right and he never wished anything bad upon someone else, but how he thanked God that your friends have either too small apartments for another person to live in or they were struggling even more than you were. But lucky for you. He was right there, waiting for your call.

The handle felt too cold in your hand once you pushed the front door open merging the distance to the elevators, you were madly pushing the down button.

The seconds felt like an eternity as you waited for the elevator. Your breaths came in short, erratic bursts, mirroring the frenetic pace of your heart. Quickly stepping inside the metal box you heard it.

“Y/N?!” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. His eyes momentarily locked with yours. You were clutching your portfolio to your chest, the other hand pressing the close button, praying it will close faster.

He must have heard you running down the stairs, or perhaps when you tripped and fell. You even forgot that you’ve hurt yourself. The adrenaline was overshadowing the pain.

“Come back right now!” He was mad, that much you could tell.

With the last determined push, you closed the door on him, severing the visual link between you. Letting out a relieving breath, you knew that this is far from being over. The elevator descended, carrying you away from the penthouse.

He cannot make it all the way down in time before you’ll disappear from the area. You prayed, he would not.

The lobby welcomed you as the doors opened, the room blurred as you stormed towards the exit, your heart pounding in rhythm with the rain. You burst into the rain-soaked night. Clutching the book tightly, a surge of triumph coursed through your veins.

The cold drops pelted against your skin. The relentless downpour soaking your clothes and hair. Running towards the street, you waved at the cars, hoping a taxi would stop.

It took a minute for some yellow car to appear at the curb, not wasting time, you ran towards it.

A smile appeared on your face after a long time. You did not know where you’re going, nor what you’re going to do next but Jungkook was never supposed to be your option and now you got the chance to choose differently or not? This is your second chance, and you’re willing to take it.

Your hand touched the handle of the yellow vehicle, opening the door and planning to leap inside as quickly as possible.

A strong tattooed hand closed abruptly. You gulped down an enormous lump in your throat, almost not breathing. How could this happen? It was mere minutes. Did he run the stairs? Did you take too long to catch a cab? Should you just run as far as possible?

Every single thing you could have done differently would not change the outcome it seems. And every single thing worked out in his favour, again.

His palm pressed on the taxi door firm, you could not open it anymore nor he would let you hop in the front seat. Your heart pounded in your chest, the tension and fear to face him was killing you. The portfolio now felt like a burden, if you make peace with losing it and your career, would you avoid this?

You could feel his eyes burning holes to the back of your head.

“I will not go back.” You said, voice resolute, but inside you were shaking. You could feel his hot breath on your cold skin, similarly you could feel his body pressing to your back. Once he reached your ear, you felt his lips mere inches from it, whispering.

“You will.”

I N T E R L O G U E 

Jungkook settled into the plush leather chair after he finished carefully unpacking all your belongings, believing he is helping you to settle down. His fingers deftly dialled his mother’s number. As the phone rang, he gazed out over the city lights sprawling beneath him, a realm he had conquered with ruthless determination.

His new song, obviously written about you, was an enormous hit, granting him another Grammy nomination. But what was his success for when he did not have his love to share it with?

He smiled to himself, he got you. After long months of chasing you, then giving you the space you needed to realise he is your best shot in this world, you’re finally where you belong. Next to him.

The familiar voice of his mother greeted him, warm and comforting.

“Eomma—” Jungkook said, his tone affectionate.

“Jungkook, dear! How is my baby?” His mother’s voice held a blend of joy and concern.

“I’m doing well, Eomma. I have some news to share,” he said, his eyes glancing toward the bedroom where Y/N lay, unaware of the conversation taking place.

“Oh? Do tell,” his mother replied, anticipation evident in her voice. Jungkook leaned back, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

“Y/N moved in.” His mother’s delight was palpable through the phone. Jungkook let her know the very moment he stepped into your office that he is very much interested in you. That he met the special one he wants to grow old with.

As he spoke, he subtly weaved a narrative of love and destiny, carefully crafting the tale of their supposed connection. His mother listened attentively, hanging onto every word.

“Are you going to propose over Christmas like you wanted, Kookie?” His mother gasped with excitement. Jungkook glanced at the bedroom once more, satisfaction settling within him. The diamond ring well hidden deep inside of the closet. But that’s given and final in his mind, there’s something more he selfishly wants. Not only will it make sure you won’t be able to leave him any more, it will give you reason to grow to love him back. After all, he would be the only person who you can grow old with.

“We’re trying for a baby, Eomma.”

.

.

.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

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lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

[jinkicake]

Spring Is In The Air~

Something happens to them when the seasons change. 

Itto, Tighnari, Yae Miko, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: I wrote this like two months ago and never posted it... I’ve always wanted to try writing something like this so here is my pathetic attempt! It’s corny BUT, smutty!!! :-)

WC - 2,224

NSFWWWW // SMUTTYYY

~~~

ITTO

Itto is not subtle. Try as he might, the poor oni cannot learn the art of subtlety. His reactions always give him away to you within seconds. 

His struggle can currently be seen in the way he braces himself against the counter but still attempts to stand up straight to play it off. 

“Hey,” He sounds breathless, almost as if it is hard for him to breathe. You know he’s going to break any moment now, you can see it as his chest begins to rapidly rise and fall. His breathing quickens and all you can do is stare at his expanding chest. “I need you.”

Itto breaks every spring and putting him back together is your favorite part.

“Fuck me, fuck me!” Itto groans loudly and the sounds, one after another, fly off of the walls. He’s absolutely losing himself as you bounce on his lap, up and down while your thighs pound against his own. The pace is fast, quick, and your knees are not able to handle it alone. It’s entirely him, Itto uses the strength in his muscular arms to toss you around on his lap. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, eyes squeezed together shut all while both of your hands are wrapped around his throat. “Yes, yes, yes,” It’s almost pathetic, the way he is singing your praise and grinds down onto the mattress. He can’t get enough of the feeling, of it all. 

Itto is loud in everything that he does and he never shies away from expressing his desires. 

“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” He sounds entirely desperate, almost as if he is about to break into tears. You squeeze your thighs together and watch his every reaction as you clamp around him. His reaction is almost imminent. Itto’s hands on your waist squeeze you tightly as his bare nails dig into your skin as he cums with a drawn-out groan. The oni chases his high without stopping, still wildly thrusting up into you just as before. His pace then grows slower, impossibly slow as he slams into you a handful of times. There’s something final about this but, you know better. 

This is just the beginning. It takes hours to satisfy Itto, especially during the spring. 

You don’t even have the chance to catch your breath before you feel him twitching inside of you again, now hard as ever. His fast recovery is almost as quick as his reflexes. Itto pulls you off of him within a flash before mounting you from behind. 

“I’m sorry, just one more, one more, okay?” You can hear how his voice shakes in your ear but, you don’t have the chance to reply as he effortlessly slides back into you. In this position, you can hear everything, every puff of air that escapes his lips and every whimper that falls. Itto cries into your ear, tongue lapping at the surface as he moves his hips at a quick pace. “You’re fucking me so good,” 

You can almost feel him in your fucking stomach as you clamp around him but, his brutal strides feel so good. Each thrust against your bottom sends you flying and you end up face-first in the duvet. Itto keeps you still with a firm hand on your hip but, you can imagine how broken his expression must be as he groans above you. 

“One more time, one more time,”

((It’s never just one time with him.))

TIGHNARI

“(Y/N), please,” 

Hearing the forest ranger beg is something you are not used to. Tighnari never begs or yearns for your touch and attention. If he wants something, he takes it with little hesitation. 

Except when the seasons begin to change. 

When the air grows colder, something primal shifts in Tighnari. You can see it in the way his eyes soften into pools of need and how he becomes much more sensitive to the slightest touch. If you even think about touching his fingers, over his gloves, he will drop whatever is in his hands. 

Tighnari becomes reactive all over. 

“It’s happening again.” He murmurs into your ear as he presses up against your side. His tail wraps around your thigh, squeezing over and over again as he ruts into your leg. “I need you.” When Tighnari gets like this, you know it’s best to just let him take. 

“You poor thing,” Your voice is full of sympathy, perhaps a bit condescending, and it makes the forest ranger whimper. His ears flatten against the top of his head as his eyes squeeze shut in concentration. Your quiet sighs and hums only make him more delirious, Tighnari burrows his face into the crook of your neck and simply inhales. His breathing gets heavier as his messy thrusts become erratic. If he had not been holding onto you so tightly, you’re sure you would have fallen to the floor by now. 

He cums with a gasp, one that sucks the air from his lungs, and he tries to hide it by biting on your shoulder. Tighnari grits his teeth against your skin as little whimpers leave his lips, his tail rapidly thumping against your leg. His weight becomes too much and you both sink to the floor under his passion. 

That first orgasm meant nothing to him, it’s merely a warm-up. 

Tighnari can’t even bring himself to guide you to your shared bedroom, he takes you on the floor. 

He can’t help the way that he spreads your thighs and licks, running his tongue along your slit. The poor man devours it all, spitting and lapping up at whatever he can reach. His harsh sucks make you shiver and squirm but, you can’t move under the tight grip he has on your waist. 

“Ah,” Whatever Tighnari planned to say is muffled by your cunt as he shoves his tongue inside of you. He thrusts the muscle as far as he can go, ears flattened in concentration while his nose grinds against your clit. It’s as if he has become utterly consumed by you, everything about you because all he can focus on is getting his tongue in you as deep as possible. 

But then, he suddenly pulls himself off of you as if it hurts to touch you.

In the blink of an eye, Tighnari is above you, staring down while his legs get situated between your own. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but, I need it,” His breathing has become erratic, eyes almost feral as he begins to heavily salivate. With his primal urges brought to the surface, you know you won’t be able to leave this position and similar ones for a few days. “I have to- I have to fuck you.” 

YAE MIKO

With the amount of time you’ve spent beside Yae Miko, you know her exceptionally well. 

You know when something begins to shift within her, almost as if it is in the air. It’s seen in the way the other shrine maidens keep their distance and in the way Miko’s fingers dance along your skin as she grabs you at any possible opportunity. She makes sure that she’s touching your bare skin, her pink nails nearly breaking it as she stands behind you. 

“I require your assistance, pet,” Her breathy voice always confirms it for you and is the tell-tale sign of when her primal urges begin to show. She drags you by your wrist to a lone room, one decorated exceptionally well with everything you could need to last for weeks. Your lover’s touch grows lighter.

“You know what I need from you.” Yae Miko stares down at you as if she is truly looking down on you, her eyes hold little interest but you know better. You can see how her finger is nearly starting to tremble and how her lips have begun to part. “Come here,” She doesn’t even have to lift a finger for you to stand in front of her, within her grasp. 

Her lips are on you without another second to spare. Immediately, it’s all tongue. She parts your lips with tight squeezes of your sides before her hands move to paw at your breasts. While letting her tongue run over your own, shoving the muscle as far down your throat as she can, she towers above you. Her moans are low and entirely full of pleasure. 

You have a belief that her urges bring out something in you, something similar because you can’t help but want to be used by her every season. 

With heavy hands, Miko pushes you to the ground forcefully on your back. She slowly lowers to her knees, watching you carefully as you pathetically stare up at her. Your lips are still part and slightly swollen because of her previous ministrations. It makes her heart stop as desire stirs in the pit of her stomach. 

She spreads your legs with her slim hands and hooks one of your thighs over her own. Your underwear is discarded in seconds by her nails and her shorts are magically on another side of the room. 

Yae Miko’s lips turn slightly upwards, almost in a mischievous grin as she presses your leg to your chest and sits on top of you. She’s hot, the touch of her skin nearly makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. An immediate roll of her hips makes you moan loudly, the feeling of her sopping cunt against your own renders you speechless. 

“How funny,” She coos but, struggles to hide back her own shakey exhales. Desire takes the forefront of her brain and all she can think about is satisfying the demanding urge in the pit of her stomach. Over and over, she presses her clit against your own and rubs at the sensitive area while roughly thrusting her hips. This is only the beginning, you’re too aware of it. 

With the way Miko is squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipple, you can’t help but anticipate the rest of her plans with you. 

ZHONGLI

After spending lifetimes with Zhongli, you still end up winded when the seasons change. 

Your husband is a dutiful man and always gives you a fair warning, a notice before something ever happens with his body. However, sometimes a warning is not nearly enough. 

It’s been days since his insides have turned into a molten heat and Zhongli has not been shy about tackling this issue with you. You’re always so good to him, let him do whatever he desires just to satisfy the annoying urges. 

Day after day, he can’t help but grow stronger about his affections. He’s a selfish man and he desperately needs more. 

“Oh, you’re-” The words can’t even leave his lips as his head tilts back, a loud moan leaves his lips. Zhongli grits his teeth painfully, grinding them down as his hand tightens in your hair. He’s not being careful and neither are you. You continue to choke on him, around him, as your spit coats his entire cock. The cool sensation makes your husband’s thighs twitch as he grunts at the feeling spreading between his legs. 

You feel incredibly lucky that his primal form has yet to take over, perhaps it won’t even show this time around. It would be nearly impossible to satisfy him with another appendage hanging between his thighs. But, the thought still makes you moan wantingly. 

“My love-” Zhongli finds it hard to speak, his balls painfully tight and it only gets worse when he sees your hand hidden between your thighs. He focuses on your fingers moving against your clit and his eyes nearly turn into slits as he focuses on the image. The realization that this brings you as much pleasure as it does him causes a guttural groan to leave his chest. “Come here,”

His voice changes, it becomes much deeper, much more commanding. Zhongli doesn’t wait for you, he roughly pulls you up to your feet before pulling you into his lap. The way he manhandles you, forcing you to sit back on his face makes your entire being light up with need. 

“Morax!” You screech as your hands press into his abdomen, his tongue doesn’t waste a second now that you’re on him. The archon presses his tongue into your cunt, thrusting in and out before running the muscle over your clit. The stimulation makes it hard to focus but, you still reach for his heavy cock. 

You grip him tightly and lick at his slit, tongue digging into the area as you hum at the taste. Zhongli’s grip on your thighs becomes stronger and he fights back with his sharp nails digging into your skin. Had you been any more focused, you would have thought he had grown claws.

Your cunt pulses around his tongue and all Zhongli can do is continue to shove the muscle inside of you. He doesn’t shy away from rubbing against your walls, no, he has his own agenda. It’s almost sick how he coaxes you to gush around him, all so he can swallow it greedily to satisfy some gut-clenching demand. 

But, he can’t help it, he also can’t help how his skin begins to turn and scales spread across his arms. He can’t help but connect with his primal side when you satisfy the very deepest desires that he has. 

[erinwantstowrite]

if you're stuck on a chapter there are a few reasons:

-your set up to the scene you're writing is not working. go back and check it

-you are not in the right POV. think about who would be the most interesting or the most entertaining or the most informative in that scene, depending on what impact you want the scene to have

-you're at the beginning of the chapter and the words aren't coming to you even though you have it planned out already? the solution is simple: you don't like what you have planned out as much as you think you do. do not force it

-solution to a lot of problems comes from a single question I ask myself: Do I choose the kind option, or the mean option? (Your readers will eat up either one)

-You find the dialogue lacking? Act it out

-Your scene feels boring or something just "ain't right" but you can't tell what it is? Try making yourself feel the emotion you want your readers to feel. If you didn't cry while writing a scene meant to make your readers bawl their eyes out, then you might not have connected to your character as well as you wanted to. Put yourself in their shoes, pretend you ARE them.

(And afterwards, please practice putting yourself back in your own shoes and taking care of your mental health. Sometimes the fucked up stuff might get to you. Healthy minds create healthy lives, and in turn, you get to keep creating.)

-Your environment might be bothering you. Take a look around you and see what's nagging you. Is your workspace not clean? Are your notes out of order? A clean/orderly workspace can help you organize your thoughts or get you into a more productive mood. (Trust me, I get it, sometimes it's really hard to keep it tidy.)

-Try white/brown/pink noise. Try listening to music, or to videos that create background noise you feel most productive with.

-Jumping jacks. Squats. Stretches. Wiggle around your room. That one scene in High School Musical where Sharpay and Ryan are warming up. It sounds ridiculous, but this is good for you, your body, and your mind. Release pent up energy, get yourself awake and focused. If you aren't able to do this, try something silly to wake your brain up. Do some puzzles, sing some songs, etc.

-Most importantly:

Did you do your laundry? Did you get enough sun? Did you drink enough water? Did you eat enough today? Did you get your favorite snack? Did you smile? Did you run in your yard like you did as a kid? Did you laugh with your friend? Did you see the way their eyes crinkle when they smile at you? Did you play with your dog? Your cat? Did you look at the flowers in the field near your house? Did you meet someone new? Did you learn something you didn't before? Did you try something you were scared of? Did it go well? Did you enjoy being yourself? Did you explore the world today? Did you live? Did you love? Did you feel? Did you breathe, and relax, and feel that everything is gonna be okay?

It might seem insignificant, but we write from the heart, not just the mind. Let your story sit in the back of your mind when you truly feel stuck. Take care of yourself, try getting out of your head. Notice the details around you, commit them to memory. Your story will wait for you. It might take a day, or days, or a week, or a month, months, or a year or years. But the story sits with you and you'll be thinking about it without actually thinking about it. When you come to your story again, it will be happy that you've grown, no matter how big or small

[flanaganfilm]

The Midnight Club - Season Two

I'm very disappointed that Netflix has decided not to pursue a second season of THE MIDNIGHT CLUB.

My biggest disappointment is that we left so many story threads open, holding them back for the hypothetical second season, which is always a gamble.

So I'm writing this blog as our official second season, so you can know what might have been, learn the fates of your favorite characters, and know the answers to those dangling story threads from the first season.

So for those of you who want to know what we were planning to do, here's a look at what would have been season 2!

AMESH Season 2 would open with Amesh, his glioblastoma advancing quickly. He would tell the first story of the season, but would be struggling to make it through. We'd focus on his love story with Natsuki for those first few episodes as it becomes clear that Amesh's death is imminent.

Meanwhile, Ilonka is trying to reconcile how she was fooled by Julia Jayne, all while falling further in love with Kevin, and she realizes he may be fading faster than he lets on.

Ilonka begins a serialized story in an effort to encourage him to "stay alive a little longer," like he did in season one. And the story she tells is... REMEMBER ME.

This was the thing I was most excited about for this season.

REMEMBER ME is one of my all-time favorite Pike books - it tells the story of a teenage girl who is pushed off a balcony, and awakens as a ghost. She has to navigate being a spirit while trying to solve her own murder. We would have stretched this story out over 5 episodes. We were going to use it as a vehicle for Ilonka to try to come to terms with the fact that she is going to die, and to begin to trying to wrap her head around being a ghost... but this is the coolest part... the lead character of Ilonka's story wouldn't be played by Ilonka. She'd be played by...

Anya.

Because this is how we live on, isn't it? In the minds of those we leave behind. And Ilonka would use REMEMBER ME as a way to imagine her dear friend Anya, waking up as a ghost, navigating the afterlife. And this sets up one of the best mechanisms of the show - even if a character dies, as long as they're remembered by members of the club, they live on in their stories.

As the story starts to pick up steam, though, the group will have to deal with the death of Amesh, which he greets with grace and bravery.

In his final moments, he sees someone in his room - the Janitor from the first season, as played by Robert Longstreet, who says comforting things to Amesh even though he can't respond.

In his final, final moments, the SHADOW descends upon Amesh, and he is engulfed into it, which reinforces the idea that the Shadow is DEATH...

With Amesh's death comes something that upends the entire thing: a NEW PATIENT. We didn't work out too much about who this would be, but it would be a new roommate for Ilonka. Someone taking Anya's old bed. Ilonka would find herself being initially cold to her - just as Anya was when Ilonka arrived. Even feeling like this new girl shouldn't necessarily be ushered into the Club. But of course they would develop a beautiful friendship over the course of the season. The new girl joins the club, where something else exciting is happening - Cheri is telling a story. We hadn't decided which one, but I think it might have been MONSTER.

Natsuki would be the next to die, which would be heartbreaking. And again, she would talk to the janitor just before it happened... and again, the Shadow would come in the final moments.

For Spence, though, things would take a different turn.

The advancements in HIV treatment in the late 90's would come into play, and we'd see his prognosis change. The HIV cocktail came out in Dec 1995, and we really wanted to explore that.

Spence would ride the swell of antiviral advancements, and by the end of the season, he'd no longer be classified as terminal. In the finale of season 2, Spence would leave Brightcliffe just like Sandra did in Season 1, heading off to manage his disease and live the rest of his life.

But onto the BIG MYSTERIES of the season one... here are some answers: What is up with Dr. Stanton's tattoo and bald head? Well, a few things. First, Dr. Stanton is actually the daughter of the original Paragon cult leader, Aceso. Her nickname was Athena, she wrote the Paragon journal that Ilonka found in S1. She turned on her mother and helped the kids escape, but because she was part of the cult in her teenage years, she had the tattoo.

It was her initials that Ilonka found carved into the tree in season 1 (her maiden name was Georgina Ballard, hence the G.B. that Ilonka finds carved in the tree).

She hated what her mother became, and the atrocities of the cult. She reclaimed the property after her mom was gone, and wanted to change it into a place that celebrated life. She was trying to undo her mother's legacy and leave something behind that was beautiful. She is wearing a wig at the end of S1 not because of a sinister reason, but because she is undergoing chemo. Dr. Stanton has cancer. Having helped so many people deal with disease, she now has to deal with it herself.

Her treatment would be successful, and she'd go into remission, but having to face that - while caring for the terminal kids at Brightcliffe - was going to be a very introspective arc for Stanton.

What about the Living Shadow? It's Death, right? Well... no.

At the end of the season, Kevin will die... followed shortly by Ilonka. And as she is dying, two things will happen. First, she'll find herself talking to the Janitor, played by Robert Longstreet... and she'll make a discovery.

HE is Death. And nothing to be afraid of. It turns out no one else ever saw this character. Stanton has a cleaning service, and the Nurse practitioners make up the rooms - the only people who ever saw this mysterious Janitor were the patients. He is Death, and offers them kind words before they die. Then what was the Shadow?

This is an idea we take directly from the book REMEMBER ME, and we'll see it play out in the final moments of Ilona's final tale. In Pike's book, Shari is pursued by a dark entity called The Shadow. When it finally catches her, though, it turns out it is not a bad thing at all.

The Shadow is THEMSELVES. It's the Unknown. As it engulfs someone, in the last moment of their life, it takes them through a place of understanding and catharsis, preparing them for the next step.

THIS is what happened to Anya in S1 when the Shadow finally reached her - that's why she fantasized a life beyond Brightcliffe, which ultimately let her find acceptance of her death. It looks different for everybody, depending on their mind-set - because it is simply an extension of themselves.

The Shadow is just the final catharsis, a return to our original form - it is a moment of true understanding, and once we experience it, we move on to the next place.

We see the Shadow in full effect when it finally comes for Kevin. KEVIN DIES with Ilonka at his side, and it leads to the biggest reveal of the season:

Who were the Mirror Man and the Cataract Woman?

They were Stanley Oscar Freelan and his wife, who built Brightcliffe (fun trivia, he is named after the real-life Freelan Oscar Stanley, who built my favorite hotel in America - the Stanley Hotel. The Stanley is also the inspiration for THE SHINING!).

But more than that... there's a reason that Ilonka only sees Stanley in the mirror, and sees the Cataract Woman whenever she looked at Kevin. This is something else we took from Pike's original book... these aren't ghosts, but glimpses of PAST LIVES.

Ilonka WAS Stanley Oscar Freelan, and Kevin WAS his wife. They've lived many lives this way, and are true SOUL MATES - they always find each other, and they always fall in love. In this life, they knew it would be a short one, so they agreed to find each other in the house they built. They've been "remembering" who they are, and glimpsing their former selves in reflections, and sometimes when they look at each other. This is also why Ilonka's very first words to Kevin in S1 were "Do I know you?" and why Kevin thought she was familiar as well. They are two souls who always find each other, again and again.

The story is this: Stanley was dying, and built this cliffside home hoping that the seaside air would help him. It did, and he far outlived his prognosis (this is also true of the real-life Freelan Stanley). However, his wife began to succumb to dementia.

She would wander the halls, looking for him ("Darling!") and would even forget to feed herself ("I'm starving...") and she eventually refused to leave the basement. Heartbroken for her, Stanley painted the walls to resemble the woodland view, and the ceiling to resemble the night sky, so that it would be a little more beautiful for her.

He also painted a labyrinth on the floor, which was a technique used to try to curb the effects of dementia. She'd walk the pattern of the maze and it was believed it could help her cognition. Eventually, she developed frightening cataracts, but Stanley loved her through it all.

They were soul mates.

So while they seemed scary in season 1, that was just how Ilonka and Kevin's mind were trying to remember their pasts. We even had their faces distorting in ways consistent with how memories degrade over time. When the Shadow comes for Ilonka, and gives her this understanding - this "remembering" - she realizes she has nothing to fear. She and Kevin will shed these personas and be reborn, and have the joy of finding each other another way. The Shadow comes for her, Death takes her gently, and Ilonka goes off with Kevin back into the cosmos, ready for their next incarnation. The series would end with Cheri telling this story to a whole new table of patients, including our new series leads. Most of our original cast now would exist as stories, a story told to the next "class" of storytellers at the table, all of whom we will have met by the end of the season. A story called "The Midnight Club."

Well, that's it... that was what we had in mind. It's a shame we won't get to make it, but it would be a bigger shame if you guys simply had to live with the unanswered questions and the cliffhanger ending. I loved making this show, and I am so proud of the cast and crew. Particularly our cast, who attacked this story with incredible spirit and bravery each and every day.

But for now, we'll put the fire out, and leave the library dark and quiet. To those before, and to those after. To us now, and to those beyond.

Seen or unseen, here but not here.

I'll always be grateful that I got to be part of this Club.

[beeing1alive]

Could you play the Tokyo Revengers characters with a really pretty girlfriend?

Note: Of course and I had a lot of fun writing this

f.t.: Mikey (Manjirō Sanō); Draken (Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya (Takashi Mitsuya); Chifuyu (Chifuyu Matsuno); Baji (Keisuke Baji); Takemichi (Takemichi Hanagaki); Angry (Souya Kawata), Smiley (Nahoya Kawata); Hakkai (Hakkai Shiba); Kazutora (Kazutora Hanemija), Koko (Hajime Kokonoi); Inupi (Inui Seishu); Hanma (Shuji Hanma)

Mikey is not at all shy about telling you how perfect and really perfect you look in every conceivable situation. You go for a walk? He tells you he's never seen anything prettier. You're in the shower? He's practically glued to it and won't stop telling you how wonderful you look.

Draken almost always looks at you. At least whenever he can. For some reason, his eyes are always around you, no matter what you're wearing. He might go crazy if you're wearing a short skirt or a tight shirt because he can't help but stare at your accentuated body parts and blush every time you move even slightly. We won't go into that any further.

Mitsuya always gets extreme love attacks when you wear clothes that he has made. He always adjusts every seam and every fabric to your perfect body, so that all the wonderful parts are highlighted. Every time you walk around in front of him in one of these pieces of clothing, he forgets how to breathe and has to turn away to hide his blushing face.

Chifuyu thought at the beginning of your relationship that you were only with him because you wanted to get closer to one of his friends. Not a single girl has ever looked at him the way his friends are looked at, so he wondered why such a beautiful person fell in love with him. But after your first kiss, he realised that love can't be faked so well.

Baji got a nosebleed when he saw you for the first time. You just walked into the classroom in your school uniform and as soon as he caught a glimpse of your pretty face, it happened. Of course he was terribly uncomfortable and that wasn't the first impression he wanted to make on you, but at least now you can tease him every time he stares at you.

Takemichi wonders every day why someone like you, who could get anyone with his beauty, would want to be with him. You just look so pretty with that sweet grin painted on your perfect face. He thinks that you are a work of art. Of course, he's not just with you because you're pretty, but honestly, he loves your body.

Angry adores your body and he just can't keep his hands off you. Not just in the kinky sense, but much more in general. He's very shy, but even so, his little finger is given away with yours as soon as he walks or stands next to you. There is simply no prettier creature for him than you.

Smiley really does show you off a lot. To be honest, he always stands behind you so that you come into your own in front of him. It's just his thing to stand behind you, one arm around your waist, like: I know, she's a masterpiece, isn't she? Well, unfortunately it's already mine. I don't know why, but his grin always gets a little more mischievous when he sees that another boy staring at you and then realises who is standing behind you.

Hakkai is, just to be clear, extremely shy around pretty much any girl. You're certainly no exception. But we're only talking about in public here. Behind closed doors, he can hardly keep his hands or eyes away from you. He likes it best when you only wear short and comfortable clothes so that he can see a lot of your skin.

Kazutora hasn't seen you for a long time and honestly? He almost fainted when he saw what a beautiful young woman you had become. He quickly got used to it though and made a habit of admiring and loving every inch of your perfect body. He just can't help himself.

Koko loves your body and every inch of it. Sometimes you're just lying on your sofa scrolling through social media and he lies on top of you and draws circles and lines on your body. He loves these moments, especially because he can really relax, as he usually works so much and hardly gets any rest. And he has a clear view of your body…

Inupi stares at you from a distance and when you notice it, he looks away and blushes so much that you know he was staring has been staring. Your body is simply too hypnotising for him and he doesn't know what to do about it. Every single movement looks perfect and every part of your body is wonderful.

Hanma rarely tells you how great you look, but he definitely shows it. Not intentionally, but he shows it. Sometimes you notice how he stares at you with extraordinary affection or how he absently strokes your body and hums softly. He actually wonders why you're with him. With your beauty, you could have anyone. Oh God, he just loves you too much.

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.

[faebaex]

Accidentally Courting an Eel Ⅱ

author note: part 2 part 2!! You guys seemed to really love this and that makes me so happy! I’ll admit, I really, really enjoyed writing part 2, and that’s probably why it turned out longer than the first part x-x less cameos this time, but lots of Jade and this time its Azul being the only voice of reason. Hope you enjoy!!

characters: Floyd Leech x F!Reader

“Ne… Do you think Y/N likes me?”

The VIP room was quiet apart from the scratching of Azul’s pen and the soft clinking of teacups as Jade prepared a pot of black tea. Floyd laid back on one of the plush VIP room couches, his legs hanging over the arm as he dangled his earring in front of his face, gazing at it as it swayed gently. Azul’s pen didn’t stop, continuing to scrawl across the documents in front of him, whilst a ghost of a smile played on Jade’s lips as he brewed the tea leaves to perfection.

“You two had a fight not even a week ago, why would you think she likes you?” Azul queried, a small frown marring his features, but he did not take his eyes off the documents he was labouring over. Floyd’s hand closed around his earring, and he rolled over, his chin resting against the couch arm as he looked over at Azul, a pout beginning to form on his lips.

“But she bit me.” Floyd pointed out and Azul raised an eyebrow, finally looking up from his documents. “But she isn’t a merfolk, Floyd. She wouldn’t have any idea what that might mean.” Azul countered, sighing at the ridiculousness of this conversation. Floyd’s face fell, his lips turning downward slightly at the corner at Azul’s words. Jade noticed this, elegantly making his way over to Azul’s desk and setting a teacup down with a flourish. “But she still bit him. Such actions carry connotations, bold ones at that. Of course Floyd would feel a certain… Way.” Jade stated, folding his hands in front of him as he stood beside Azul’s desk. Azul’s pen dropped onto the desk with a clatter, and he looked up at Jade incredulously, “are you serious?!”

“And she so kindly repaired Floyd’s earring, without us having to persuade her to do so or claim fair compensation. She looked so pleased with herself too. And I need not remind you just how important gifting jewellery is to merfolk?” Jade smiled serenely, ever happy to be stirring the pot whilst Azul shot him a dirty look.

Floyd’s legs kicked restlessly behind him, his face blank for a few moments before a wide grin spread across his face, sharp teeth glinting as he jumped up off of the couch, a short wild laugh leaving his lips before he dashed out of the VIP room with a spring in his step. Azul sighed as the VIP room door slammed shut, convinced that he was going to have to replace it one of these days due to Floyd’s recklessness, and Jade let out a muffled chuckle that he hid behind his hand.

“Why did you do that?” Azul huffed, picking up his pen and getting back to work, the sound of pen on paper once again filling the room.

“Whatever do you mean?” Jade responded innocently, his composed smile never budging despite the sly glint in his eyes.

“If it ends in tears, I don’t want to hear a peep about it. And this better not disturb business at the Lounge, otherwise you will be the one picking up the overtime.” Azul warned, and Jade’s smile lifted, his teeth starting to peek through.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Life had mostly gone back to normal after your fight with Floyd.

You were finally free of what seemed like the never-ending punishment from Crewel. As expected, Floyd was nowhere to be seen during your three-day stint in the botanical garden, tending to the regrowth of the ingredients that had gotten caught in the crossfire of your and Floyd’s dispute. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, with you mostly watering the plants, your biggest obstacle having to move housewarden Kingscholar from his napping spot so you could water the plants there (nothing a discreet threat with the watering hose couldn’t fix).

You had also finally submitted your potionology assignment, your partner generously distilling another vial of ginger root so that you could brew the energy boosting potion and not suffer any more of Crewel’s wrath for submitting a late assignment. Considering how insistent that your lab partner was about replacing the ginger root, you can only imagine it was a result of him seeing you taking on Floyd Leech without even batting an eyelid.

Either way, things had all sorted themselves out and your day-to-day school life fell back into place like normal. Well, apart from one difference. Floyd Leech.

He was bothering you. Every day. Without. Fail.

At first, he began randomly attacking you. But there was none of the vicious aggression that usually accompanied a fight, it was more like… Excitable and rough play fighting. And he bites too, incessantly, your arms and hands often littered in his very distinct teeth marks. He’d pop out of nowhere and some days, it was just about all you could do to fend him off, being how you were trying to lay low in order to keep your head, lest housewarden Riddle finally get sick of you and cut you down to size. Floyd seemed to delight in when he managed to make you jump, or when you smacked him with your textbooks in an attempt to ward him away. To make things more odd, after you’d got into a small altercation with another student, Floyd had sought you out that same afternoon. You don’t even know how he had even heard about the incident, having not been a physical one which was diffused rather quickly. With a surprisingly pouty expression, he’d gripped you by the shoulders, not budging an inch even as you tried your best to detach him.

“Ne, don’t go bitin’ other guys, okay?”  

Floyd’s random offensives lasted every day for about a week before he began to change tact.

Soon, you’d notice things going missing. Not anything important, but enough to be small, irritating inconveniences. For example, you’d reach into your stationery case for a pencil to find it missing, only to find it tucked behind Floyd’s ear casually as he strolled down the corridor. On one particularly troublesome occasion, Floyd brazenly slipped his hand into your pocket and took your phone, pouting on discovery that it was locked via face ID and yet still managing to somehow line up your phone screen perfectly to get it to unlock. He cackled as he held it out of reach, not reacting no matter how much you stomped on his shoes and tugged at his arms. You were one step away from climbing him like the bean pole he resembles when he finally gave it back, grinning like a Cheshire cat. You didn’t find out until later when a message from a “Moryay!” popped up with the most ridiculous meme and string of emojis did you realise that Floyd had added his number to your phone and made you follow him on all his social media accounts.

After that, you changed your phone lock to passcode only.

But perhaps the most bizarre moment that came out of Floyd’s sudden obsession with you was the nickname he had dubbed you.

“P-pea?!” You spluttered, looking at Floyd with a mix of shock and disbelief.

Floyd gave you his typical toothy grin, leaning forward with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, pea puffer,” Floyd drawled, looking absolutely delighted with himself, “Y’know, pea puffers are real tiny. They look all cute and unassuming, but they are real aggressive and fight other fish all the time, just like you.” You gaped at this comparison, and that only seemed to please him more, remarking how you really looked like a fish now.

“I’d rather you went back to calling me guppy. Please.” You complained, a hand resting on your hip as you looked upon Floyd, unimpressed.

“No way, pea puffer. You’re much more special than the rest of these lil guppies.”

It had been weeks, but Floyd was still seeking you out non-stop. Your friends, whilst sympathetic, had begun to avoid you by proxy, trying not to get caught in the crossfire. You were at a loss about why he was so obsessed with you lately, or about what you could do to get him off your back.

“Well, that’s just Floyd Leech,” your friend responded with a shrug as you vented to her on your walk between classes, “if someone interests him, he’ll be all over them. But as soon as he finds them boring, he drops them as quick as he picked them up. That’s just how he is. Although I’ve never seen him bite people like that before.” Your friend commented, eyes briefly glancing down at your bare wrist. You grumbled and quickly rolled down your blazer sleeves, concealing the unique pinprick bite marks. Your friend shrugged again, as if that was the be all and end all of the situation. “What? So I’m just supposed to wait until he finds someone else on campus interesting enough for him to bother?” You huffed in exasperation, and your friend shot you a sympathetic side eye. “Well, I think the best thing you can do if lay low for a little while. Well…” A small smile curved your friends lips up, “as low as you can manage, I guess.” You shot her a half-hearted glare and she laughed, “the point is, if Floyd doesn’t see you for a while, maybe he’ll move on and start terrorising someone else.” The two of you entered the history of magic classroom and took your seats, and there was nothing like an incredibly slow, boring history class to ponder what your friend said and what you should do next, and if it was even possible for you to lay low enough to avoid Floyd for that long.

Having carefully formulated your plan under professor Trein’s nose, you sprung Operation Avoid The Leech into action. In the mornings, you would hurry to your classes, keeping your head down and under the cover of the bustling student body. At lunch, you’d rush to the cafeteria, pick up whatever sandwich was closest you could grab and then you’d dash out of there, eating your lunch in a discreet spot. After afternoon classes, you went straight back to your dorm with no detours, holing yourself up in your room. You managed to tell your club president a convincing enough excuse as to why you would not be attending club activities for the foreseeable future, internally thanking your scrappy reputation for making whatever punishment your club president thought you had gotten yourself into now so much more believable.

Your new routine had some unexpected benefits, with housewarden Riddle often praising your new behaviour, believing that you had turned over a new leaf and you were starting out on your journey to become one of Heartslabyul’s model students. But there was a very specific downside to your new no frills routine.

You were so, so bored.

The irony wasn’t lost on you that whilst you were waiting for Floyd to get bored of you, you were the one who was hopelessly bored, moping around in your room most of the time. There was only so far studying could take you, and looking through your social media only made you feel worse, seeing all of your friend’s stories and posts of how they were spending their precious freedom just making you feel more miserable. You huffed a huge sigh as you threw yourself down on your bed, hugging one of your pillows as you stared aimlessly at the ceiling. Hopefully, just a few more weeks to go…

Floyd huffed a sigh, slumped across the Mostro Lounge bar, head in his arms as he stared aimlessly gleaming, polished surface of the counter. Jade stood behind the bar, diligently polished glasses as he stared at his twin with a knowing smile. Service at the Mostro Lounge had ended an hour ago, with Azul holing himself up in the VIP room to pour over the day’s sales figures, giving Floyd the perfect opportunity to mope.

“Is something the matter, Floyd? You’re rather sullen today.” Jade commented, knowing full well what the problem was but decided to prod his brother regardless, curious as to what reaction it would elicit. Floyd remained silent, his finger tracing mindless shapes against the countertop. The lounge was silent apart from the occasional clink as Jade set back a perfectly polished glass and began work on the next. Finally, Floyd spoke up.

“Pea puffer is avoiding me…” Floyd mumbled, not raising his eyes up from the counter. Jade’s head tilted slightly in interest, yet he still didn’t stop polishing the glass in his hand. “Pea puffer?” Jade questioned, his curiosity even further piqued, “You mean the small, combative— Ahh.” An amused smile lifted up Jade’s lips at this new piece of information. So Floyd had upgraded you from the sea of guppies to a personal nickname, quite the honour.

“What makes you believe Y/N is avoiding you?” Jade asked, placing the glass he was polishing on the counter and folding his hands neatly on the counter, focusing his full attention on Floyd now. Slowly, Floyd sat up from the counter, resting his chin on his fist as he continued to sulk. “I haven’t seen her in weeks. She’s never in the cafeteria at lunch, I even went to her club but she wasn’t there either. The club prez said she told him she couldn’t attend for a while…”

“I see...” Jade hummed as he mulled this information over, “have you been to the Heartslabyul dorm to check on her?” Floyd’s pout turned into a frown, his mood starting to turn. “Goldfishie banned me from stepping foot in Heartslabyul after the last time.” Jade’s lips turned upwards as he remembered the last time, but he soon turned his mind back to the problem at hand. “I see. This is quite the mystery.”

Floyd didn’t respond, instead staring dejectedly at the glass in front of him. “… I thought she liked me,” Floyd finally broke the silence, “she was the one who started courting me… She bit me, and she fixed my earring!” Frustration began to seep into Floyd’s voice, his eyes narrowing on the glass, “y’know, she was even opening her mouth a lot recently, real wide. Sure, she sometimes covered it with her hand, but…” Floyd’s voice trailed off and he fell back into gazing dejectedly at the glass, until a slender hand reached out and plucked it from the table, back to being polished in Jade’s careful hands.

“Hmm… Perhaps it is time that you let Y/N know that you are courting her back?” Jade mused, and Floyd huffed, his hand falling down onto the counter with a dull thud. “I have! I bit her back! I leave ‘em all up her arms, so she knows how into her I am. And I take her stuff and wear it, so all the other guppies know, y’know?” Floyd reasoned, and Jade nodded slowly, the glass clinking as he slides it back into its place, beautifully gleaming. “I know, but I fear Azul may have been right. Perhaps she does not know.” Jade countered, and Floyd looked up at his twin then, waiting for him to continue. “It seems that land dwellers have more… Fragile courting customs than us merfolk do. It may help to be more direct.” Jade concluded, carefully watching his twin to gauge his reaction to this idea. Floyd stared blankly at Jade, and Jade knew his twin enough to know a dark cloud was starting to form over Floyd’s mood again. On cue, Floyd slumped against the counter again, a whine of annoyance slipping past his lips. “Human customs are annoying,” Floyd continued to whine, burying his face into his arm, “how am I supposed to tell her if she keeps avoiding me?”

Jade looked down at his brother, finding himself a little amused by his uncharacteristically lovesick behaviour. In all the years they had been together, he had never seen Floyd act this way over someone before. How curious. “It’s quite simple, Floyd. You simply need to lure her out.” A cunning smile spread across Jade’s lips, and Floyd perked up slightly, once again turning his attention back to his brother. “I have a plan…” Jade affirmed, leaning forwards and beginning to conspire with his dispirited twin…

It had been two weeks since you had begun Operation Avoid The Leech and to put it bluntly, it was the most boring two weeks of your life. But things were finally starting to look up. Your friends had begun to report to you that Floyd seemed to have calmed down a lot this past week, no longer constantly peppering them with questions about your whereabouts or attempting to hunt you down during breaks or after class. And yesterday, to add the final cherry on top, you received news that a random Scarabia student had caught Floyd’s interest, and he had apparently been chasing them around instead. You were still feeling a little cautious, wondering if you should leave it a few more days before deciding it was safe enough to venture out again. You were on the fence about what to do, but then a friend sent you a message, asking if you wanted to go to a trendy new café that had opened in town. With her assurance that she hadn’t seen Floyd at all that day, and it was very doubtful that you’d run into him in town. Persuaded that everything was fine, and you were finally off the hook, you eagerly agreed to meet her by the clocktower after class.

Classes flew by, and before you knew it you were waiting at the clocktower for your friend to arrive. Your mood was sky high and it was a beautiful day, you couldn’t think of a better day to go into town and celebrate your new freedom. You leaned against one of the pillars, scrolling aimlessly through your social media as you waited for your friend to show. You found yourself getting distracted, doom scrolling through videos on Magicam, and when you finally noticed the time, it was ten minutes after your friend was supposed to meet you. You frowned down at your phone, seeing no messages to say that she was running late. You looked up from your phone, confusion etched on your face as you looked around the courtyard that enclosed the clocktower, wondering if she had somehow missed you. In fact, you were about to message her to check that everything was alright, when you saw a flash of teal walking down the path towards main street. You felt a surge of dread when the figure turned to lock eyes with you and offer his signature insincere smile.

Jade Leech.

Suddenly it all clicked into place.

“Oh fuck.” You muttered to yourself, and you swear you could see Jade’s sharp teeth poking out from under his lips. At that moment, your phone pinged in your hand and a message from your friend popped up, and your feeling of dread only intensified as you read the pop-up notification.

‘I’m so sorry’ was what your friend had sent to you, but you hardly had a chance to dwell on it when you heard the familiar laugh that sent a chill down your spine. Without a second thought, you bolted.

You could hear Floyd Leech’s maniacal laughter behind you as ran around the clocktower, ducking for cover as you internally spat every curse word you knew, trying to figure out what your next move would be. Floyd’s laughter died down into silence, but you weren’t stupid enough to believe that he’d left, pressing yourself against the clocktower and peeking around the corner. The coast seemed to be clear, but now you had to weigh up whether you could outrun Floyd. The outlook was looking dismal. A small body of water cut off one side, but you wondered if you could maybe duck through the trees near Sam’s shop and make a run for the hall of mirrors. The hall of mirrors wasn’t that far from the clocktower, but that all relied on Floyd not chasing after you. You peaked around the corner again, still not seeing Floyd, and you were about to make a break for it when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow loom over you. Before you could react, Floyd slammed his hand down just above your head, surprising you enough for you to let out a yelp of surprise as he boxed you in against the clocktower with a wide toothed smile and an excited glow in his eyes.

“Found you.”

Floyd leaned his arm against the clocktower, leaning over you as he continued to grin down at you, looking incredibly proud of himself. You looked up at him in disbelief, not much room for you to move with your back pressed against the clocktower and Floyd looming in front of you, effectively crowding you in between his arms. It was rare that you found yourself speechless, your mind spinning as you tried to figure out exactly what you could do in this situation, if at all anything. So instead of overthinking it, you did what you do best.

You attacked.

“Floyd Leech! What did you do to my friend?!” You hissed at him, puncturing every word with a swing of your bag into his stomach. Floyd grunted as the first swing hit him, but then he laughed, letting you hit him a couple of times before he grabbed your bag mid swing, stopping your assault. “I didn’t do anything to your little friend, pea puffer.” Floyd drawled, looking amused when you shot him an indignant look back at him.

“Then why isn’t she here? Are you bullying my friends?” You retorted, trying to tug your bag out of his grip so you could whack him again, but his hand didn’t even budge, like his grip was made of iron. Annoying. Instead, he decided to yank your bag himself, catching you by surprise and making you tumble into his chest. “I ain’t bullyin’ your friends, little pea puffer,” Floyd whispered into your ear, “ain’t it obvious? Your friend sold you out.”

You let out a disgruntled sound as you pushed Floyd, taking a step back and glaring at him. Floyd retained your bag, looping it over his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “Ya see, your friend owed Azul a favour, an’ me and Jade decided we could help her out… If she helped us out.” His tongue poked out of his mouth as he grinned down at you, “you’re too trustin’, pea puffer, it’s cute.” You folded your arms over your chest, glaring at him. You were about to open your mouth to retaliate, but before you could, Floyd suddenly lunged forward and lifted you into his arms, marching off with you without a word, if you didn’t count his trademark giggle.

“Floyd! Put me down!” You shouted, pushing at his shoulders, your legs flailing in protest. Floyd didn’t respond as he walked around the clocktower, and you twisted, trying to get out of his grip. “Stop squirming, pea puffer. You’ll make me drop you.” Floyd complained, even if his grip around your waist didn’t budge an inch as he held you. “Alley-oop!” Floyd cried joyfully as he launched his long leg out, kicking open the door leading into the clocktower with a deafening slam. “Floyd! The clocktower is off limits, are you trying to get us another detention?” You snapped, your eyes wide with alarm. “Relax, pea puffer. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Floyd drawled casually, and you huffed. “Easy for you to say, you didn’t even turn up to our last detention!”

Floyd turned his head and grinned at you, and you had to lean back, not realising how close together your faces were. “Then I’ll come to the next one. Now hold on tight!” Floyd grinned, all sharp teeth and mischief, and you barely had a chance to process his words and why you’d need to hold on before he started dashing up the clocktower stairs. You were unable to fight the undignified squeak that ripped past your lips as you clung onto Floyd like your life depended on it, his laughter echoing off of the high walls of the clocktower as he bounded up the stairs. You thought it would never end, but finally a room opened up and Floyd ducked into it, finally setting you back on your feet. “Ta-da~!” Floyd announced, swinging his arms out. The room was small, small enough that Floyd couldn’t even stand at his full height, lest he bump his head on the low ceiling. The true centrepiece of the room was the curved window that looked out onto main street, and you could see all the way to the sports field. A ledge sat below the window, and Floyd took no time to make himself comfortable on it, waving you over.

“Isn’t it cool, pea puffer? I like to come here sometimes, when I just wanna chill without anyone harshin’ my vibe.” Floyd grinned, setting your bag on the ledge and to your surprise, he opened it up and started rifling through it. “Hey!” You scolded, rushing over to stop him as he began to rifle up through your stationery case. “Ne, don’t you have anything fun I can have?” Floyd asked as he pulled one of your pens out, not seeming at all phased when you slapped at his hands, trying to get him out of your things. “If you want something fun, get your own!” You huffed, pulling your stationery case and bag out of his hand and shoving it behind you, out of his reach. You tried to reach for the pen, but he held it out of your reach, his previous sunny expression falling into a pout. “That’s not the point, pea puffer. It has to be something of yours.” Floyd complained and you raised an eyebrow at him, completely lost as to his reasoning behind this.

Floyd’s expression went blank as he stared at you, and if felt like the two of you were locked in a staring contest for hours before he finally decided to speak again. “Ne, you just don’t get it, do you pea puffer?” Floyd asked, his eyebrows drawing down slightly as he continued to stare at you. You suddenly felt like you were under a microscope, shifting uncomfortably on the ledge. “What’s there to get?” You remarked, although you had the odd feeling that you should tread carefully, considering how uncharacteristically serious his face looked, “aren’t you just messing with me because you’re bored?”

Floyd pulled a face at your words. “Jade was right. You really don’t know.” Floyd huffed, before leaning forward and grabbing hold of your wrist, rolling your blazer sleeve up to your elbow with unexpected gentleness, revealing your bare arm. The bite marks Floyd had made had mostly faded by now, and he pulled another face, unhappy with this but pushing on with the conversation anyway. “You bit me, so I bit you.” Floyd stated, looking at your face and seeming to study it for your reaction. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t baffled. “Yeah… So?” You responded, and Floyd’s brow downturned just a little bit more at that.

“And you fixed my earring.”

“Yes…?”

You could see Floyd’s teeth clench together, an annoyed breath huffing out of his nose as he dropped your wrist, raising that hand to grip at his shoulder. He stared at you, brow furrowed and you were truly at a loss for what you had done wrong. You could only stare back at him, eyebrows raised as you waited for him to divulge what exactly you didn’t get.

“Those are all merfolk mating customs.” Floyd finally said flatly, and you felt yourself freeze.

“… Excuse me?” You managed to squeak out, not even feeling embarrassed about how your voice sounded as you stared at Floyd in disbelief. Floyd continued to study your expression; his lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Listen up, pea puffer. You bit me in the potions lab, and that made me think you liked me. Merfolk bite each other when they’re interested, y’know? And when I was mullin’ it over, you came runnin’ after me, holdin’ out my earring that you’d fixed with that pretty smile on your face. You were very persistent in letting me know you were interested.” Floyd explained, looking at you pointedly.

“Wait, wait, wait!” You spluttered, “what does giving your earring back prove? And I bit you when we were fighting!” Floyd just shook his head, letting his hand drop into his lap. “Giving jewellery is like, the top merfolk courting custom,” Floyd said with a shrug, “fixin’ someone’s broken jewellery is just as close. It doesn’t matter how it happened. Plus, merfolk fight all the time. Especially when they like each other, its just natural.”

You stared open mouthed at Floyd as you processed his words. Floyd thought you had a crush on him, because you bit him and fixed his earring?! You were stunned silent, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly at the implication. If Floyd noticed, he didn’t mention it, continuing with his explanation.

“So that’s why I started bitin’ you back. It shows that I like you back and it lets all those guppies know it too,” Floyd’s gaze fell back to your arm again, and now it really made sense why he had pulled a face earlier when he saw his bite marks all but gone, “it’s also why I started borrowin’ your things and keepin’ them on me, so that all the guppies would see that I’m unavailable.” Floyd finished, looking at you expectantly. You simply stared back at him, rendered speechless by Floyd Leech for the umpteenth time that day. Floyd began to frown again at your bewildered expression, and he leaned towards you as he spoke next.

“D’ya get it, pea puffer? I like you.”

Floyd’s rather straightforward, unabashed confession is what snapped you out of daze, and you felt your cheeks grow hot, a red hue painting them. You’d look at home with the roses in the Heartslabyul gardens. You fumbled for some words, your lips moving but nothing coming out as you found yourself awkwardly flustered. A smile started to curve up Floyd’s lips as he saw just how flustered you were becoming, and he leaned closer still, his nose almost close enough to touch yours.

“Ne, pea puffer, d’ya like me back?”

If your cheeks could have grown any redder, they would have. At this point, someone might as well have dug a hole in the Heartslabyul gardens and planted you there, your face putting the roses to shame. “Y-you haven’t even taken me on a date!” You stuttered out, cringing at your own weak defence, only for Floyd to lean back and gesture at the room you were both in.

“Whad’dya mean? We’re on a date right now.” Floyd shot back nonchalantly, and you almost choked on your own tongue.

“This was entrapment! Some would even dare to call it kidnapping!” You retorted, finally starting to shake the daze that his explanation and confession had put you in, “usually, when you like someone, you ask them out on a date.”

Floyd’s grin became toothy, and that’s when you knew you’d really put your foot in it. “D’ya want me to ask you on a date, pea puffer?” There was a shine in his eyes, and he seemed excited about the idea, but also sincere. You felt your cheeks heat up again and you looked away, suddenly finding the spelldrive players on the sports field very interesting. “T-that’s not what I said.”

Regardless of your complete obliviousness to merfolk mating customs and what you had apparently started, Floyd seemed very satisfied with the outcome of the conversation. He scooted closer to you, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned in very close, his lips hovering above yours for a painfully long moment before he decided to detour and press a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead, his wild toothy grin as he pulled away a complete contradiction to this gentle gesture. “Buckle up, pea puffer, ‘cause now I’m courting you. Aha~!”

Just what had you gotten yourself into?!

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