#most of these are from the last couple years but i rarely do these so its more like

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 8 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

It was inevitable that Jinwoo would introduce you to Yoo Jinho.

As you stood there, the lower half of your face concealed by a laced black mask patterned with butterflies, you had to hide your grin. The mask, enchanted with illusion magic, ensured that most people couldn’t recognize or remember your face easily, except those you wanted to be recognized by.

Perhaps it was because you were mentally older than your physical age in this world, or maybe you were just prone to cuteness aggression. E-rank Jinwoo had been spared only because you couldn’t reveal yourself at the time. But now, facing Jinho, you really wanted to squish his boyish face. Thankfully, you managed to rein that urge in.

You could almost see Jinho’s thought process as he saw Jinwoo with you. Jinho’s tendency to misinterpret situations had been a refreshing comic relief in the manhwa, but now wasn’t the time to focus on that.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Child,” you said, ruffling Jinho’s hair and making him stumble forward slightly. Perhaps you exerted too much force?

Jinho blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. “Ah, uh, yes! I mean, no! I mean...”

You chuckled softly, scanning your surroundings. The people hired just to fulfill the requirements of raiding a gate had already started to mind their own business, used to the routine by now, barely sparing you or Jinwoo a second glance.

That was fine; the less attention, the better. But your gaze caught Han Song-Yi standing a little farther off. You smiled beneath your mask and gave a small wave. But when you saw Han Song-Yi, you smiled behind your mask and waved. She seemed surprised before hesitantly waving back.

You turned to Jinwoo, who was already in front of the gate, waiting for Jinho and you.

As you approached, Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”

"Shall we?" you asked quietly, stepping up beside him.

Jinho, still flustered, scrambled to stand beside you. “Ready, Hyung!”

The butterflies embroidered on your mask seemed to shimmer for a moment as you prepared yourself for the challenge that lay ahead.

---

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jinho. I'm (Name)."

Yoo Jinho's mind was already swirling with a dozen thoughts the moment his Hyung introduced you. Jinwoo rarely worked with others, so your presence threw him off.

(Name). No last name. A C-rank healer, not widely known, but Jinho had heard a few whispers about you. Word was that you had a nurturing, kind disposition every time the South Korean Hunter Association dispatched you for backup in raids.

His first impression? You looked like a professional. Your combat-ready outfit was practical, and the long coat draped over it hinted at versatility, allowing freedom of movement. There was no visible armor, but the way you held yourself, with your hair styled elegantly yet suitable for combat, spoke volumes. Even with the mask obscuring part of your face, Jinho sensed you were what most would consider a subtle beauty.

"(Name) will be joining our raids from now on," Jinwoo stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world..

Wait, what?

His Hyung, who had always preferred to raid solo, was now bringing someone along—and acting like it was a routine occurrence?!

Did you and his Hyung perhaps—

Before Jinho could finish the thought, you ruffled his hair fondly, startling him with the unexpected strength behind your gesture.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Child.”

“Ah, uh, yes! I mean, no! I mean…” Jinho stumbled over his words, clearly flustered.

You chuckled softly, your demeanor warm.

That was how the day began.

Jinho spent most of the raid gawking as you and Jinwoo seamlessly coordinated your attacks. He watched in awe as you effortlessly took down enemies alongside Jinwoo. More impressive was how naturally Jinwoo seemed to work with you, almost as if the two of you had been doing this for years. It was like watching a finely tuned machine in action, with both parts working perfectly in sync.

For a moment, he felt a little lost. What was he supposed to do when his hyung and you didn’t seem to need backup?

Then, as if sensing his uncertainty, you approached him. “Hey, Jinho? Thank you. Jinwoo might not say it out loud, but I’m sure he appreciates your company all this time.”

Jinho perked up at your words, feeling a surge of pride, only to become flustered when he heard you giggle. You were trying to be discreet, but it was clear you found his reaction amusing.

Another time, during another raid, you commented on Jinho’s armor—more out of thoughtfulness than criticism. “That’s some expensive armor you’ve got there,” you remarked, noticing his attire.

Jinho, eager to explain, mentioned the high-end gear he had bought back when he first started working with Jinwoo. His hyung had thought it was excessive, but Jinho wanted to be prepared.

You hummed thoughtfully. “It won’t hurt to be a bit more prepared,” you said, and before he knew it, you pulled something out of thin air—a small, unassuming butterfly brooch.

Jinho’s eyes widened. How did you do that? He had never seen anything quite like it. You pinned the brooch to his clothes with a graceful motion. “It’s imbued with some spatial magic,” you explained. “Try clicking it three times.”

Curious, Jinho did as you said., and his eyes lit up as his expensive armir were replaced by a sleek, high-quality combat suit. The fabric was sturdy yet comfortable, allowing for easy movement. He marveled at how perfect it felt.

“How… how did you do that?” Jinho marveled at the suit, admiring its design and function.

You bring a finger to your lips.

“Don’t worry. Your current wear was just switched out, it’s in there if you want to switch again.”

Before he could offer to pay you back, you raised a hand to stop him. "Just take it as a thank you, for always accompanying Jinwoo. If that’s not enough, consider it an advance payment for your continued help in the future."

From that day on, Jinho started calling you Noona. He couldn’t help it—you had earned his respect and admiration. Plus, you always looked out for him, even when it wasn’t necessary. You had a way of making him feel important, part of the team, even though he knew you and Jinwoo were leagues ahead.

You weren’t just cool. To Jinho, you were someone he could look up to.

Even Jinwoo seemed to tolerate it, though you noticed a slight twitch in his expression whenever Jinho said it, making you suspect that Jinwoo wasn’t as indifferent as he let on.

---

"Woah, who's that?" "She looks so cool..."

You could hear the whispers as you removed your helmet after parking your motorcycle in the parking lot. The students stared, intrigued by the mysterious figure you cut against the backdrop of their daily lives. Your eyes, however, were trained solely on the building in front of you.

It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more prepared, you reminded yourself, as you often did.

---

Inside the school, Jinwoo didn’t expect to run into you. He had come for Jinah’s parent-teacher meeting, but here you were, in a place that seemed far from your usual.

You spotted him almost immediately.

“What are you doing here?”

"Straightforward as always. I'm here on personal business," you said, offering a brief, cryptic smile.

He raised an eyebrow, the suspicion clear in his eyes. “Personal business? At this high school?”

Before he could question you further, Jinah’s voice broke through the conversation. “Oppa!” she called out, jogging toward them. Jinwoo sighed, shifting his attention to his sister. You, meanwhile, stood a little off to the side, watching the sibling banter unfold with an amused glint in your eyes.

Jinah quickly noticed you standing there, and her eyes lit up with recognition. “Wait—are you the cool unnie my friends keep talking about?!” she asked, her voice filled with excitement. "They said you visited the school a few times!"

You smiled warmly at her. "That might be me," you said, not denying it. “I’m (Name),” you said, offering your hand to Jinah. “Nice to meet you.”

Jinah took your hand eagerly, her curiosity piqued, but you didn’t linger. “I’ve got some things to take care of, so I’ll leave you two to your meeting,” you said, with a nod to both siblings before walking off toward the administrative wing.

Jinah turned to Jinwoo with wide eyes. “Do you know her, Oppa?”

Jinwoo only nodded, his gaze following you until you disappeared around a corner. His instincts told him there was more to your presence here than you were letting on.

---

Later, as Jinwoo sat in the meeting room speaking with Jinah’s teacher, your name came up again—though this time in a different context.

“Miss (Name)?” the teacher asked, recognizing the confusion on Jinwoo’s face. "She’s one of the school’s key investors. A remarkable woman. She funds a portion of the scholarship program for students with financial difficulties. She was here today to inspect how the program was progressing.”

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow at the revelation. He certainly didn’t expect to hear that you were involved in something like that. He had always sensed that you were up to more than you let on, but this? He didn’t imagine you were the philanthropic type—

Okay, he had been on the receiving end of that exact action for the past few years, but still!

After the meeting, at the teacher’s request, Jinwoo briefly met with Han Song-Yi. After they talked, Jinwoo felt a sudden shift in the air. A butterfly—one of yours—fluttered into the room and landed on his shoulder. It was your usual method of contacting him without drawing attention, and he had come to expect it.

---

Jinwoo followed the butterfly, and soon enough, he found you waiting just outside the school, leaning casually against the establishment’s wall, your arms crossed. The street empty.

“I heard from Song-Yi that you're planning to take her into a dungeon soon.”

"Since when have you been in contact with Han Song-Yi?" he said, getting straight to the point.

You didn’t flinch under his scrutiny. “She’s got potential,” you answered casually. “She reminds me of someone… so I decided to lend a hand.”

Jinwoo’s suspicion deepened. “You’ve been helping her?”

“I’ve been making sure she has the opportunities she deserves. Just as I’m helping others.”

Before he could react, you handed him an impressive stack of homemade meals, each one neatly packed for travel. "These are imbued with magic, of course," you said casually, as though giving enchanted meals was the most normal thing in the world.

"...Isn't this too much?" Jinwoo asked, looking between you and the stack of containers.

You scoffed lightly, almost rolling your eyes. “You never know what might happen. Besides, it’s for your other raid members too." For a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw his expression twitch, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Was he annoyed? Amused? It was hard to tell with Jinwoo sometimes. "You can store them in your system’s inventory. I see no problem."

As if that wasn’t enough, you produced a small pouch filled with shimmering stones. "And here. Mana gems, made by me. Break them if you’re low on mana. Otherwise, they’re versatile—use them however you see fit."

Jinwoo stared at the gems for a moment, before closing his hand around them. “You’re not coming?”

"No. Not this time."

There was a brief silence as your words hung in the air. Before he could respond, you gave a slight wave, already turning to leave.

“Have a safe journey, Jinwoo,” you said softly over your shoulder, disappearing into a flurry of butterflies before he could say anything more.

Jinwoo stood there for a moment, watching the last flutter of your butterfly vanish into the distance.

---

You stood at the edge of the red gate with <Illusory> activated, arms crossed as you stared at the shimmering barrier before you. The system’s all too familiar message blinked in your vision, barring you from entering.

[Access Denied, Trial Player.]

Figures.

You had expected this. The system had been unpredictable at times, but this was one of the moments you knew too well—it wouldn’t let you intervene directly when it came to certain pivotal moments in the story, like this red gate.

“Well,” you muttered to yourself, “that’s why I prepared those meals and mana gems.”

You could only hope they would be enough to make a difference, lightening the load on Jinwoo’s shoulders while he navigated the dangers inside. He’d grow stronger through this trial, but you didn’t like the idea of just standing on the sidelines.

---

Inside the red gate, Han Song-Yi took a bite of the meal you had sent through Jinwoo, her eyes widening in amazement. “Oppa, this is amazing!” she exclaimed between mouthfuls. “I’ve never tasted anything like it!”

The rest of the party, seated around their small campsite, were similarly engrossed in their meals. It wasn’t just the taste that astonished them—it was the feeling of being energized, as if the food itself was somehow infused with power.

For a moment, they all forgot they were stuck in a deadly red gate, too busy enjoying the brief reprieve you had provided.

Meanwhile, Jinwoo sat on the outskirts of the camp, watching his shadow soldiers march silently in the distance. He had been taking the opportunity to level up while they hunkered down in a safe area. The enemies within the red gate were tougher, as expected, but that was precisely what he needed to test the maximum potential of his shadows.

It wasn’t long before he had acquired new soldiers to add to his ever-growing army.

As he observed his surroundings, Jinwoo’s gaze landed on the mana gems you had given him. They had proven more versatile than he initially thought. holding them for a few moments seemed to give him a temporary stat boost. The warmth that radiated from the gems was also useful, especially given the freezing environment inside the red gate.

The most surprising discovery, however, was that the gems could recharge themselves. Even after they had grown cold, they would warm up again in an hour or two, ready to be used once more. Jinwoo eyed at the small, glowing stone between his fingers, his thoughts drifting back to you.

How does she do it? Jinwoo wondered, turning the gem over in his hand. It glowed faintly with residual energy, pulsing slightly as if alive. The craftsmanship was unlike anything he had seen before.

Jinwoo pocketed the gem. There was always a sense of assurance that comes with you. The meals and gems you had provided, along with his newly strengthened soldiers, he knew they stood a better chance at survival.

With each passing moment, the line between curiosity and fascination grew thinner.

---

You knew how things would unfold, like in the story you once knew. Still—

Stay strong, Jinwoo, you thought, turning away from the gate. You had done everything you could from the outside. Now, it was up to him.

---

In the heat of the battle with Baruka and his army of ice elves, Jinwoo instinctively crushed one of your mana gems, expecting the usual mana regeneration to help keep his shadow soldiers going. What emerged, however, wasn't just an influx of replenishing energy but dozens of your familiar butterflies.

They swarmed out with a grace Jinwoo had grown accustomed to. While he focused on defeating Baruka, the butterflies spread through the battlefield, weaving between the ice elves. Some of them fluttered around the elves, casting illusions that confused their enemies, while others began draining life force, transferring that energy to Jinwoo's shadow soldiers, all while simultaneously regenerating Jinwoo's mana. It was an unexpected but welcome bonus.

Then something else that happened: a few butterflies, glowing faintly and without hesitation, imbued themselves directly into his daggers. The familiar system notification popped up.

[System Notice: Trial Player’s summons have used <Indwelling>. Your weapon has been enhanced.]

The magic now coating his weapons shimmered, adapting to the weaknesses of the enemies Jinwoo faced. The attack stats of his daggers surged, responding fluidly to the situation at hand. With each strike, the butterflies seemed to anticipate Jinwoo’s movements, boosting his strength at just the right moments.

The thrill of battle coursed through his veins even more intensely than before.

---

After Baruka’s defeat, Jinwoo tried to extract the ice elf’s shadow. To his irritation, the extraction failed, leaving him frustrated. But something else quickly caught his attention.

He noticed the butterflies again—fluttering around his shadow soldiers. The red one, always lingering near Igris, hovered quietly. But Jinwoo’s eyes were drawn to two new butterflies: one settled on the newest addition to his soldiers’ nose, making the large shadow blink in confusion, while another perched on the biggest shadow ice bear’s ear, which twitched periodically in response. It was subtle, but these butterflies seemed different, more distinct somehow.

If I can't extract Baruka's shadow, Jinwoo thought, can I at least make use of his remains?

His musings were suddenly interrupted by a voice that wasn’t his own.

“We can make a mana reservoir of his left-over life force, for future use, Sire.”

Jinwoo immediately stood on alert, scanning for the source of the voice. Was there another enemy nearby?

“At ease, Sire. We’re under orders from our Mistress to assist you.”

The realization hit Jinwoo like a tidal wave. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the red butterfly, now fluttering in front of him, its delicate wings moving calmly, as though it were the leader of the swarm.

Did... did your butterflies just...?

“Correct, Sire. We can communicate with you using the sub-skill: <Sensory Illusion>.”

The red butterfly drifted closer to Jinwoo, its shimmering wings catching the light of the dungeon. Even Igris seemed momentarily shocked by the sudden speech coming from one of the familiars, his shadowy form tense.

The red butterfly hovered in front of Jinwoo, as though bowing slightly before him. It spoke again, this time with more clarity, its tone eerily reminiscent of you. "Let us confirm, Sire. Would you like us to make a condensed reservoir of the enemy’s remains?"

It paused for a brief moment, as if allowing Jinwoo to process the information. Then it added, “With Our Lady’s current skills, she can surely make something of it that will be helpful to you in some way.”

Jinwoo's eyes narrowed slightly. This butterfly was sly—cunning, even. He smirked slightly. Even your summons had your subtle charm.

"Do it."

The butterfly bobbed once, almost like a respectful bow, before flitting away to relay the message to the rest of the swarm. Jinwoo watched as they began their work, weaving magic that siphoned the residual energy from Baruka's remains.

Once again, you had surprised him, even in your absence.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [020/10/2024] -

[holyantenna]

the ol’ art vs artist, 2022 the last few years edition~

[eddiazx]

buck wild - evan buckley x reader

Buck has always been beautiful. Over the past year though, he had an even bigger glow up, which you didn’t even think could be possible.

His golden hair had furled into soft little coils, his stomach was fuller, his arms were so muscular that you were slightly concerned he was going to rip through his all of his T-shirts, and his thighs. Lord, his thick thighs were built like tanks. All in all, Buck looked comfortable in his own skin, in being himself, and in being enough, and you were obsessed with it.

Of course, you might be biased, but you think the general public can agree with you that your boyfriend is a smoke show.

The 118 and their families were currently gathered at Athena and Bobby’s house. It was one of those rare weekend nights where everyone was free, so the couple had invited everyone over for a barbecue.

Dusk was falling, and the kids were planted in front of the downstairs television watching a horror movie. The adults were sitting in the backyard, chatting over drinks. You were sitting sideways in Buck’s lap, one of his hands bringing a beer bottle to his lips every few minutes, while the other rested on your leg. Both of you were immersed in the story that Karen was recounting about an incident that happened in her lab.

When you decide that you needed a sip of water, you shift yourself up from Buck's lap and the comfortable position you were in. You put your feet on the ground, lean forward and oh-

Your legs were on either side of Buck’s thick left thigh, and whether it was due to the booze or the angle or the solid muscle underneath hitting you just right, arousal zips through you.

You gulp and get up on shaky legs with Buck’s help. You make a beeline to the kitchen and grab a water bottle, pressing the cool plastic to the side of your neck in attempt to calm down.

“Hey, you okay?”, you hear Buck behind you. You turn around to see your sweet boyfriend who had trailed after you in concern.

“Yeah... but do you mind if we go home?”

“Of course. Are you feeling sick?”

“No, but I am feeling hot.” You say, trailing a nail down Buck’s chest to his tummy, biting your lower lip.

Buck, quickly understanding, smirks, and takes your hand in his, guiding you back towards the group to bid your hasty goodbyes before walking out the front door. You don't quite catch the knowing looks and smirks that Eddie and Hen give Buck.

Buck's warm hand never leaves yours, except to help you into his Jeep. He buckles himself in, and starts to drive, but not before asking,

“So, what was it that turned you on?”

Your cheeks warm. You look pointedly at his thighs, and he chuckles. He eventually pulls the Jeep into park in front of your shared apartment.

You move to open the passenger door, but Buck pulls you back. He brings you in for a kiss and shuffles you over the centre console to make you straddle him, adjusting his seat back to make room for you.

“Buck”, you pant breathlessly into his mouth, before sliding your tongue over his. His big hands caress your back and down your butt, before you feel him guide your legs so that one of his thighs was between them.

“Okay, baby. Ride me. Take what you need.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You hold onto Buck’s shoulders, grinding your hips back and forth over the corded muscle. Buck looks up at you like this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, his own dick straining against his jeans. He bounces his leg up into you experimentally, and when you react positively, he continues to do so in an unrelenting pace. Buck can tell by your whines and breathing that you were close, so he finally grasps your hips and pulls you down hard onto his thigh. Within seconds, you’re shaking with white-hot pleasure.

Buck coos and rubs your sides, grounding you after your high. It's unspoken between you two, but this was most definitely not the last time you'd be doing this.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Being Destructive

Marvel’s destructive. It’s not even on purpose too. It just happens. He can’t control it. For the most part, that is. Like, he’ll get startled and pull a Castiel from that one episode of Supernatural.

Marvel: *trying to steal some food for Billy*

Flash: “Cap, buddy!”

Marvel: *startles and the lightbulb above them just bursts*

*loud silence*

Flash: “Cap, whose leftovers are those?”

Marvel: *slowly turns around to look at Flash, sure enough, Marvel’s holding a container or Tupperware, with a sticky note that said GL* “Uh… mine?”

Flash: “I can see that they’re Hal’s.”

Marvel: *takes off the sticky note and crumples it in his hand. Then proceeds to fry it with lightning* “What’re you talking about?”

Flash: *a little speechless*

Marvel: “Right… So I’m gonna go. See you, Flash.” *little wave as he walks off*

Billy felt really bad about it, but the kid needed it more than Hal at the moment. Probably. Look, he was running low on money at the moment and hadn’t eaten in a couple days. The hunger pangs were getting to him. He did end up making a bunch of food for Hal in an attempt to apologize.

GL: “Woah, what’s all this?”

Marvel: *in full lightning bolt apron* “Uh… Remember how you were complaining last week about how someone stole your food?”

GL: “Yeah?”

Marvel: “Right, well that was me.”

GL: *dramatic gasp* “I vented to you about that! And you just took it like you were innocent?!”

Marvel: “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. Just eat all the food I made for you. Please?”

GL: *looks to the freaking feast Marvel made for him* “Yeah, okay. I forgive you.” *starts chowing down* “By the way, why’d you steal my foot anyways? I thought you didn’t need to eat.”

Marvel: “I just really needed it at the time.”

GL: “Why?”

Marvel: “Just eat the food, Hal.”

Then, there’s the fact that Billy sometimes forgets he isn’t as small as he usually is. Like, he’s gotten used to it. After all, he’s been Cap for almost four years now. He now unconsciously bends down when entering and exiting through doors due to the fact he’s cracked his head on more doorframes than he can count. This even bled over to Billy who’s only about 5’4 and definitely doesn’t need to do it. But, every now and then as Cap, he’ll slip up and forget he isn’t that little scrawny short kiddo.

JL: *all having a meeting* Marvel: *drops something under the table and leans down the pick it it up*

GA: *immediately grabs his mug of coffee and scoots back from the table*

Other JL members: *watch in confusion as GA scoots back but then watch in slow motion at Marvel tries to get back to his chair and stands up to early. The table slowly starts tilting up and all of their stuff slides to the floor. Marvel then gets out from under the table and the table falls back to the floor with a loud bang*

Marvel: *confused by the loud bang and looks back* “Where’d all your guys’ stuff go?”

GA: *scoots back to table and puts his mug back down* “No idea, bud.”

The reason Green Arrow knew to take his stuff and scoot back is that one time when he got lunch with Cap, he watched in real time as his burger and soda slid off the table when the big man went down to grab a fork he dropped.

Then, there’s the super duper ultra rare times he forgets his own strength. Like, once a year, he’ll break something or someone and then end up having to apologize a lot.

Batman: *shows Marvel an explosive batarang* “These are extremely delicate. If they’re chipped or thrown at someone, they’ll explo-”

Marvel: *reaches over to touch it and accidentally snaps a piece of it off*

*silence*

*beeping noise starts*

Marvel: *panics and breaks the rest of it and shoves it in his mouth, basically eating the explosion, Superman style*

Batman: *stares for a solid minute* “I could’ve turned it off, Captain.”

Marvel: *coughs up smoke looking embarrassed* “Sorry, Mister Batman Sir.”

Batman: *stares for another solid minute* “Can we talk about how your first instinct was to eat it?”

Marvel: “I’d rather not.”

Batman: “I really think we should.”

[jlheon]

𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐆𝐎 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐇𝐒

(𝓹airing) ── lhs x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓮xes to lovers ? ; idol au, angst, & fluff (𝔀ordcount) one thousand 𝓹eng's note. abrupt ending & not proofread oops 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. the idol life was what tore you and heeseung a part, but now you reside under the same label

lee heeseung is everywhere you go.

both of you are idols under companies under hybe. it’s not a rare occurrence to see your ex-boyfriend walking down the same halls, music shows award shows, flights, and every place imaginable.

it’s not unbeatable of course.

you are used to it, while it seems lee heeseung has erased you out of his memory.

acting normal, cordial, when you bump each each other in the elevator.

it’s like you never existed, like you never were a chapter in his life, but it’s not like you can do anything about it now.

THAT’S JUST THE WAY THINGS GO.

you dated heeseung for most of your teenage years.

as corny as it was, you thought he was the one and spend your whole lives together.

that you would end up marrying your first boyfriend.

you both shared the same dream, to become an idol. thus leading to the two of you auditioning for the same companies and picking one since you both got in.

heeseung and you practiced together in secret.

though he got ahead first, from nearly making it into txt and being picked for iland, heeseung was ready to debut.

on the other hand, you still had to wait a couple of years before hybe would consider debuting a girl group.

so you both agreed to break up in the midst of heeseung leaving to film the survival show.

it hurt, it did, but you spent all the remaining weeks together. a sort of final goodbye dragged out as the both of you didn’t want to let go of your relationship just yet.

it was a weird limbo stage.

the handful of friends who knew of your relationship were informed you two had parted ways while you two stayed glued to the hip in secret.

the morning of your last day with heeseung, you cried in his bathroom while he was still asleep.

you tried not to wake him and let him see you in such a state but he heard you. sliding down on his floor to take you into his arms as you cried.

neither of you talked during your last day together. some whispers of one-word replies every couple of hours but most of the time was solely about being close to the other. basking in each other's touch and presence for one final time.

you knew everything would be different after this survival show.

lee heeseung had everything, he was perfect, he was debut-ready. there was not a single doubt that he wouldn’t win the show and become a beloved idol.

even if there was a sliver of a chance he’d lose, his public debut even as a trainee would garner a fanbase waiting for his debut at another time.

when heeseung inevitably placed fifth overall you were watching in your room. a bittersweet feeling washing over you when you remember this means that it was the official end of you and heeseung. your chapter in his life coming to a close.

the last time heeseung contacts you was two days after the finale of iland aired.

a simple, text wishing you debut soon, that he is going to cut contact due to his dating ban, and needing to focus on his career.

you want to hate heeseung.

to yell at him over the phone and scream in his face about how he can’t just leave you behind like that. say that he can’t just forget about you after everything you’ve been through together.

but the other part of you wants to hope. to beg for him back. whether it meant in the future when you hopefully make your debut and he’s in the clear to date or secretly dating now. 

alas, you congratulate him and say only time will tell.

THERE’S SO MUCH LEFT TO SAY, I GUESS I’M JUST THE BIGGER GUY.

now three years past you’ve debuted and are thriving as one of hybe’s newest girl groups.

gaining in popularity with the latest release of your group's first full-length studio album.

which comes with the hectic schedules of filming music shows, variety shows, collaborations tiktoks, and more.

unfortunately or fortunately, enhypen just so happened to have a comeback at the same time. even promoting at the same music show on the same day. 

when your manager told you that you were set to make a video with an enhypen member you felt sick. there was a one in seven chance it would be heeseung.

though you had no say whether or not you did it.

nobody knew of you and heeseung’s past and it was planned to stay that way.

as you walked up to the shooting spot the air in your lungs slowly disappeared. nearly choking when you saw heeseung standing there watching your group's dance as he went over it in his head.

“hey,” heeseung whispered shyly when you quietly stood next to him.

you offer him a bow, as he was now your senior, not the boy you spent years loving.

it’s too quiet when you finish filming the tiktok challenge. rewatching it with heeseung after taking one final shot and bowing goodbye.

though after you notice the camera for both of your groups' behinds stop rolling and your manager doesn’t whisk you away just yet.

the amount of staff slowly disappears and you are about to follow after when you feel a grip on your wrist.

tugging you back towards himself, heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close.

“heeseung?” you question, words coming out airy.

“____,” he whispers, nuzzling his head into your hair, “i missed you.”

“you’re going to get us in trouble,” you mutter, though truthfully you just want to melt into his embrace.

“it’s okay,” heeseung’s grip loosens, only to spin you around in his hold. he looks down at your confused face, “i asked for some privacy with you.”

“why?” you whisper, his mere touch after years of yearning making goosebumps arise on your skin.

“i miss you a lot,” his arm rests around your waist. the other cradles your head and pushes it to rest on his chest, “please, i’m finally able to try us again.”

“i’m still on dating ban,” you frown, finally surrendering and hugging your ex-boyfriend back.

“i talked to your manager,” heeseung holds you tightly, “i took care of everything. please give me a chance again.”

it might be three years later, but for you, lee heeseung can wait thousands of years.

AND I DON’T MIND THAT THAT’S THE WAY THINGS GO.

[vivwritesfics]

Padawan Learner

Mrs Vettel, ex Williams driver, current McLaren driver, can't drive while pregnant. Although she's contracted until 2026, she can't drive while she's with child. But she can't stay away from racing, and can't help but take the Williams rookie under her wing.

Sebastian Vettel x Reader, (Platonic) Logan Sargeant x Reader

Warnings: Brief description of smut

She wasn't supposed to retire at the same time as her husband. He felt as if he was at the end of his career and there was nothing more he could offer to the sport, so he retired. He'd had his glory years in Red Bull, moved to Ferrari, every racers dream, and ended things in Aston Martin, alongside his wife's old teammate.

She still had more race left in her. She'd been with Williams for years, racing alongside Valteri Bottas, Lance Stroll, George Russell, and, later, Alex Albon. But then she moved to McLaren, a team she felt would help her fight for wins.

Her husband very thoroughly celebrated the beginning of his retirement. She found herself stuffed full of cum almost every day of winter break.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when they got pregnant. But she wanted to murder Sebastian. For all of five seconds she wanted to drown him in their pool. But, after that five seconds passed, she was overjoyed, wrapping her arms around Sebastians neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

She told McLaren and they pulled Oscar Piastri in for the year. That was how he got his first drive in F1. All because Sebastian Vettel was incredibly horny, but he didn't need to know this.

She might not have been able to drive, but she still wanted to be trackside whenever she could. Her old team gave her this opportunity. She didn't hang around the McLaren garage, as she had half expected.

No, it was Williams and the new team Principle, James Vowles, who gave her somewhere to be during the season. Even in preseason testing, she was there, watching the Williams.

It was great to be in the garage with Lily again. She'd always liked Lily, thought she was great for Alex when they first met. After her move to McLaren she rarely got to see Lily, and as much as she hated sitting in the garage, it was nice to be sat in the garage with her.

Alex was a great driver. Any advice a veteran like her could have offered him, he already knew.

But then there was his teammate.

She watched Logan from his very first race weekend. She had known about the rookie for a couple of years now and had watched him succeed in Formula Two.

But now, in the Williams tractor, he was struggling. Week after week after week he was finishing outside of the points, or he wasn't finishing at all. She really felt for him.

"Hey," she said after the Hungarian Grand Prix.

Logan hadn't spoken to anybody since he got out of the car and did all that he needed to do. Clearly he was struggling. He didn't say anything, just looked up.

She stood beside him. At her stage of pregnancy she could have gotten down to the floor to sit with him, but she wouldn't have been able to get up without help. Her hand rested on her bump as she looked down at him.

"I still remember my first season in Formula One," she said as she looked at the retired car. "It was 2013 and Seb was set to win the championship. I was in my first year in Williams and I think I only finished maybe ten races," she said with a laugh.

"Wait, seriously?" Asked Logan as he looked up.

She nodded her head. "I crashed out of most, or the car fell apart on me. Most people wondered why I had a seat for the next year, but Williams saw potential in me. I know they see it in you, too."

Every time Logan didn't finish a race, every time he came dead last, she was there. Nobody could comfort her like she did. Sometimes Seb joked that they might as well adopt him, and Logan agreed. Most up and down paddock called Logan her padawan learner, which was very fitting.

Logan began being the person she spent the most time with when Sebastian wasn't there. He'd looked up to her for many years and having her support meant the world to him. He was there for her too, making sure she had somewhere to sit and something to drink whenever she needed it.

In September, a month before her due date, Sebastian begged her to stop travelling. Just in case he wanted her home with him, where he could take care of her. They still watched every race together and she made sure to send Logan a good luck text before every practice session, qualifying, and race.

When Logan got his first points, nobody celebrated more than Sebastian Vettels wife. She was so proud of him, even if those points were because of two disqualifications. She posted a picture of him and her from a previous race on Instagram like a proud mum. Funnily enough, Logan comments 'thanks mom' on the post.

Just two weeks after this, her water broke. Sebastian got her to the hospital. He stayed by her side, holding her hand through the hours of excruciating labour.

Leon Vettel didn't cry when he was born. He was so quiet, that it actually scared his mother. But the doctors and nurses assured the new parents that he was perfectly healthy.

He was their perfect little man.

She insisted on asking Logan to be Leons godfather. They had grown so close over the last few months that it seemed fitting.

Logan accepted. As soon as the Vettels could, they were taking Leon to races. Or, Sebastian took Leon to races, to watch his mother race. Of course he was wearing a Williams hat and McLaren shirt.

"Papa," Leon said at four years old after watching the Australian Grand Prix qualifying session.

"What is it, my little man?" Asked Sebastian as he sat Leon on his lap.

"I wanna be like mama and Uncle Logan," he said, and Sebastian couldn't stop himself from grinning.

[princessbellecerise]

Prove It To You

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | You and your betrothed, Jacaerys Velaryon, are a love match. A feat that has upset many of the people vying for your hand, including Jason Lannister. When he makes a snide comment about Jacaerys not knowing how to please you properly, it’s up to the future king to prove him wrong

warnings | smut, slight insecure!jace, fingering, creampie, betrothed!jace, loss of virginity (m. and f.)

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

In your day and age, finding a love match was extremely rare.

In fact, it was often considered a miracle just to find a couple that could tolerate each other, let alone love one another and look forward to marriage, like you and Jacaerys did.

You supposed that was why your match was often celebrated, your betrothed’s own grandsire, the king of all people, calling for an elaborate feast just to congratulate the two of you.

From all over, Lords and Ladies from the great houses travelled to King’s Landing to bestow their best wishes upon you and Jace. Some genuinely happy for the two of you, some surprised, and some even…bitter that it wasn’t them.

Despite all your protests, you and Jacaerys had been the center of attention all night which was hard for two people as reserved as you were. You supposed you were at least grateful to have your lover by you side, holding his hand under the table so that you were not alone in your discomfort.

Every time some drunk Lord gave a toast or sloppily congratulated you, all eyes would be on the two of you. And every time, you wanted to bury your head in Jace’s shoulder to shy away from the attention.

It was so embarrassing to have people constantly looking at you, whispering their doubts and their gossip. No doubt people were pitying all of the unlucky gentleman you had declined just to be with Jace. Of course, no one would dare speak ill of the future king, but the curiosity as to why you picked him out of all your suitors still lingered.

After all, you had every man from Dorne to Casterly Rock asking for your hand, and yet you chose the sweet, quiet prince who many even hesitated to call him that.

Much to your dismay, the rumors of Jace and his parentage were still active even all these years later. Even when the king himself had named him as an heir, people still wondered. And for many people, especially the men that you had rejected, it made them feel as if your match was a bit…umbecoming.

After all, it was one thing to lose the most beautiful maiden in all of the land to a prince, but to an illegitimate one? Some people that believed the rumors just couldn’t handle that type of rejection.

Some people like Jason Lannister.

The man was sat a couple of seats down from you, but even with how loud it was, his voice still managed to stick out from the crowd. He was as loud as the roar of his family’s sigil, and it was hard to block out all of his jests and drunk comments from where you were seated.

Under the table, your grip on Jace had tightened the more Lord Lannister talked. It was like you were taking your anger at his snide comments out on Jace’s poor flesh, but the prince did not mind. In fact, he was too busy clenching his own fist to notice that it was yours causing him pain. The diplomatic smile on his face began to slip a little bit the more that miserable man ran his mouth.

God’s forgive him—Jace was trying his very best not to kill him.

“And then I said: I’ll buy you a bloody dragon if that’s what you want, but I guess the lady wishes to be with one that has true blood running through his veins.”

The whole section around the Lannister burst out laughing, but you didn’t find his commentary of your last interaction entertaining, and neither did Jace. His jaw ticked, obvious annoyance in his eyes as you shared a look. It was hard to miss the slight dig Lord Lannister had thrown at him by adding in true blood.

A dig that made Jace uncomfortable, just as he always was when someone even remotely questioned who his parents were.

A few seats over, you could see that you weren’t the only ones barely hanging on to your diplomatic smile as Princess Rhaenyra struggle to even lift the corner of her lips at Jason’s recount. Much like her son, she did not like it when people brought up who the father of her children was. And understandably so—as it wasn’t their business who the Princess chose to father her heirs.

You yourself somehow always knew the truth, despite Jace never really talking about it with you. But with the resemblance to Harwin Strong as clear as day, you knew that he wasn’t of any Velaryon blood. Not that you minded though, because if he was, he wouldn’t really be your Jace.

Sweet, kind, and more gentle than any of those other Lords that had approached you combined. Your Jace that was patient and…

Positively about to lose his mind as Jason Lannister made another remark.

“I think it is good, you know. That Lady Y/N choose the prince, because honestly we all know that I can be a bit much at times,” Everyone laughed and agreed at this. But Jason wasn’t finished. “No, no, I think it’s extremely fitting that she chose him, because Y/N is a simple woman and she needs to be with someone…unexperienced to match her naïveté. Gods knows I’ve made plenty of rounds in my days, but Prince Jacaerys is noble enough to never experience such things. A good thing for his future wife, I suppose. Or bad depending on how many children she should want.”

Laughter immediately rang out at the last few parts, and Jace turned beet red as Lord Lannister all but insinuated that he wouldn’t know to…um…satisfy your needs.

Your jaw dropped at the crude comment, disguised as a joke that many deemed funny. You even caught the king and his sons chuckling a little bit, which was the only reason you couldn’t physically do anything about what he said. It was just harmless teasing, that was all. But you knew more than anyone that Jace wouldn’t take it that way.

And you were right.

Your lover had always been quite sensitive, but especially when it came to you and your relationship. He already possessed many self-doubts because his kind nature held him back, often prompting Jace to believe that he was weak. Which was the last thing he was, you assured him, but sometimes when an idea was in his head it was hard to get rid of it.

Which was why the minute Jacaerys believed that Lord Lannister was making a mockery of him, he got angry. And suddenly the warm grip that had been keeping you grounded all night was gone, and you watched with a thumping heart as Jacaerys stood up.

His fists slammed angrily against the table, which caused you to flinch and the silverware to clatter underneath his force. Immediately, the sound of his chair scraping had silence bestowing over the crowd of nobles, everyone’s eyes on him as he stood there.

Worriedly, you looked up at Jace and you hoped that he wasn’t about to cause a scene, possibly jumping across the table to strangle Jason Lannister. It sure looked that way, so you tried to calm him down by standing up as well, gently whispering in his ear,

“Jace, my love. It is all right. Let him mock and let us just sit back down, alright?”

A comforting hand was placed at the small of his back, but even your gentle touch couldn’t shake the anger and embarrassment he felt. With everyone looking at him, whispers began to rise. Rhaenyra’s face dropped as her son turned beet red.

“Is something the matter?” The king asked, and that seemed to be the only thing that could finally snap Jace out of his trance.

The prince looked at his Grandsire, and he was oddly calm as he moved his lips.

“I am fine, your grace,” Jace insisted through a tight smile, his eyes not reflecting the emotions he was putting out. “I’m just a little bit overwhelmed, that is all. All of the attention tonight has clouded my head and I think I shall head to my chambers before I gain a headache. If that is alright with his grace.”

“Yes, of course,” Ever having the soft spot for Rhaenyra and her children, Viserys dismissed him from the feast and Jace took off at a pace faster than you had ever seen him walk.

He stormed out of the grand dining room, and that left only you, the center of attention now that your betrothed was gone.

“I…” Your eyes were steadily focused on Jace’s disappearing back, and you knew in your heart that you had to go after him. To make sure that he was okay, because you knew how these kinds of things got to him. “Is it all right if I be excused as well, your grace?” You asked as kindly as you could, throwing in, “I don’t believe I’m feeling very well either,” so that no one would be too suspicious of you going after Jace.

Of course, it was probably obvious what you intended to do but Viserys dismissed you anyways. So, you quickly bowed and then headed after your lover as fast as your feet could take you.

Jacaerys hadn’t left that far before you, so it was easy enough to catch up to him, slipping in behind him right as he prepared to close the doors to his chamber.

The wooden locks clicked into place and now you were stuck there with him as Jacaerys looked at you with his jaw slightly dropped.

“My love, what are you—”

“I had to see if you were all right,” You told him quickly, quieting your voice as if there was anyone but him around to hear you. “You…left dinner quite early and quite abruptly,” You added, “So I wanted to make sure that Lord Lannister didn’t hurt your feelings too badly with his poor jests.”

At this, you weren’t expecting Jacaerys to scoff at your words. You were surprised when he looked at you fiercely, the look in his eyes one that you had never seen before.

Pure anger.

“It is not my feelings that I’m concerned about,” He then told you, shaking his head, “But rather yours, and what you might feel towards me after his…implications.”

“His implications?” You rose a sudden eyebrow at this, extremely confused as to what Jacaerys was trying to say. “And what exactly did Jason Lannister imply that would effect my feelings towards you?”

“Well isn’t it obvious?” It wasn’t. “He was trying to imply that I won’t know how to fuck my own wife! The nerve he has, saying that to your face. I am sure he hoped it would steer you away from me to soothe his own ego, but I assure you, sweet darling, that while I am inexperienced, I am still well-versed on how to please a lady. I have read many books—”

“Jacaerys!”

You cut him off as heat flooded to your cheeks, which luckily he wasn’t able to see. A burning feeling traveled through your body at such lewd words, words that you had never heard escape from his mouth before. Never in the presence of you or any other lady for that matter.

Words that…sent a flaming desire straight to your core.

“Oh gods,” As if he suddenly realized what he had said, Jacaerys backed away and covered his mouth bashfully. In the heat of the moment, he had ranted entirely too much and now he had flustered his poor betrothed, who looked like she didn’t know what to do with herself as she looked at him. “My darling, I am so sorry. I did not mean—”

You cut him off with a giggle and Jacaerys was floored when you started laughing at his rambling rather than scolding him. Laughing as if what he had just said wasn’t inappropriate, and entirely not a conversation he should be having with you while you were unwed and alone in his chambers.

But alas, you did not seem to mind as you walked up to him and placed your hand in his. Jacaerys felt his cheeks heat up as his sheepish gaze met yours, but you were nothing less than amused as you said, “My dear prince, it is quite alright. I do not mind if you speak of such things with me.”

“But—”

“In fact,” You ignored his protesting and kept going, the burning sensation of your core egging you on. “I quite…liked hearing you say those kinds of words.”

“You did?” The disbelief was evident on his face. Jacaerys couldn’t hide his shock as you shyly nodded, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

“I think it is exciting that you think of me that way,” You confessed, slowly bringing your body closer to his. Jacaerys nearly lost his breath as your head craned to look at him, your eyelashes batting innocently. “That you’ve thought enough about us making love that you actually gained knowledge on how to do it properly.”

“I did,” Jace confirms with a bob of his throat. A twitch of his cock at how close your bodies were. “I read…I read all about it. I even asked…a few knights about it so that I could make sure I did it correctly. When the time comes, of course.”

“Is that so?” You purred as you ghosted your lips against his, Jace taking in a sharp intake of breath from the action. His body was screaming at him to just close that gap between the two of you, to kiss you make all his desires melt away. But his mind…the lessons that he had drilled into his head since childbirth, held him back.

Jace knew more than anyone that there was a certain order to these things; that he had to be gentleman to the very last second until you were wed. That he had to be patient and most importantly, not think about all the dirty things he wanted to do to you in that moment.

It was improper.

You knew it, and he did too. But somehow, as your lips and his own desire tempted him, Jace for once in his life seemed to not care for the rules.

“Yes,” He breathed out in ecstasy as his mind finally sunk out of reason, giving into the temptation that claimed most men. He looked down at you and then he uttered the words he knew would cause him nothing but trouble.

“Would you like me to prove it to you, my darling?” He asked. And you, having become just as eager as he was, nodded.

“Yes, my prince.” You all but begged him.

And so it was sealed. Jace’s lips met yours in a swift kiss, hot and passionate as you tangled your fingers in his hair. Jace moaned as you tugged, a way to bring him closer without saying the words. Quickly, your lover complied and Jacaerys moaned in your mouth as your body pressed against his.

Likewise, you let out a small gasp as the feeling of his hard member brushed over your thigh. You knew that men got…excited while doing certain acts, but you certainly never witnessed it before and you never expected it to turn you on like it did.

Jace’s arousal only triggered your own, something in between your legs beginning to stir as you deepened the kiss.

Almost involuntarily, your thighs began to grind together causing Jace to smile lightly against your lips and hold you even closer. With clammy hands, he pressed down on your waist and managed to guide your body towards his bed without breaking the kiss. Then, once your back hit the soft fabrics of his sheets, he pulled away and crawled on top of you.

Soft brown eyes met yours and you could see that Jace’s pupils were blown with desire. Lust, an emotion you’d never seen so prominent before, danced across his face and promoted him to reach out and trace the soft curves of your cheeks. He leaned down to kiss them both, and when he whispered in your ear how much he loved you, you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine.

You needed him, and you needed him badly. Your body was aching in way that you never thought was possible before, every fiber in your being craving Jace. Your most intimate parts were throbbing for him, and you wanted him to touch you before the sensation drove you wild. So, in a quick desperation, you grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest.

Jace looked surprised as you did, shocked by the desperate look in your eyes. He had never imagined that you’d want him as much he wanted you, but alas, he wasn’t going to question it. Like a good boy, he started to comply with your silent request and gently massaged the clothed flesh underneath, his actions causing you to gasp a little bit.

You looked at Jace and the feeling felt nice but—you wanted more. Hastily, you grabbed his hand again and brought it down to ghost over the strings of your dress, already beginning to undo the laces before Jacaerys quickly helped.

Together, you managed to get the tight fabric loosened and Jace nearly drooled as your breast popped out. The sweet sight of your exposed flesh caused his cock to twitch, wanting nothing more than to lean in and capture your breast in his mouth. He wanted to touch you and he wanted to explore you so bad, so that’s what he did.

He left the bottom half of your body clothed so that he could take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, the new sensation taking you by shock. You gasped as Jace’s lips wrapped around your bud, licking and sucking and causing you to moan as you tangled your hands in his hair.

Never had you ever experienced the pleasure of someone sucking on your breasts before, and Jace looked up to see that you had fluttered your eyes shut in pleasure, a smile on your face.

Clearly, you were enjoying his actions which made him a bit more confident as he moved to your other bud. He took that one in his mouth and left sweet marks you’d have to cover in the morning. Licking and marking your chest so that you may remember who you belonged to, and the pleasure that he caused you.

Jace knew you wouldn’t forget; not after what else he had planned for you. After this, he was going to make sure his beloved knew in her heart and soul that the man she was going to marry was more than capable of pleasuring her.

Not that you ever doubted him anyways, but you were throughly shocked when Jace abandoned your chest for something a little more exciting. For something he had learned from Daemon in secret; a sure fire way to get any lady riled up.

Jace trusted his uncle and you trusted him, so when he started to pull the rest of your dress down you didn’t resist him. In fact, you aided him by lifting your hips up, eager to get the restricting fabric off. It felt like it was choking you even though your chest was already exposed. Restricting you from experiencing what you really wanted; what Jace was desperate to show you.

You could see it in his face that he was determined, biting his lip as he glanced your body over. By now, you were fully naked below him and your cunt throbbed as the cool air lapped against it. It caused you to shiver and look at Jace with a questioning look in your eyes, wondering what else he had in store for you.

Fortunately, Jace was generous lover and he didn’t keep you waiting long. Which was why he leaned back down to connect your lips together.

The kiss was hot, desperation spilling over like lava from an active volcano. It burned both you and Jace but the sting felt so good, especially when he started to use his fingers to trace your body.

Ever so lightly, he trailed down and your hips bucked a little as he brushed some of your sweet spots. The spots on your body that had you trembling a little, white hot desire flashing in your stomach.

You didn’t stop him as Jacaerys trailed his fingers lower and lower, but you had to admit that you were nervous. His lips helped a little bit, but the nerves you felt from being touched for the very first time seemed to eat you alive.

You were glad Jace took the liberty of studying before hand because you would have no idea what to do. You let him take control and it was obvious that Jace was grateful as he pulled away from your lips.

Slightly swollen, he curved them into a smile and lingered just below your belly button. Tempting you with his feather-light touches, dazzling you with those big brown eyes.

You swore your heart was going to burst in your chest from all the love and excitement you felt, and you were sure Jacaerys felt the same. You hadn’t the courage to fully look at him yet, but you caught glances of the way his cock was straining against his dress pants. Thick and hard, a fact that made you both nervous and eager.

Slowly, your body grew hot and your mind went blank as Jace leaned down to nibble on your ear. Sighing lightly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and shivered when he began to speak.

“Sweet girl, would you like for me to show you what I’ve learned now?” He all but purred, and you couldn’t stop the embarrassingly quick nod that came from after, nor the clench of your thighs as your core throbbed.

“Please—” You rasped out the word like a begger on the streets asking for favor. Only, it wasn’t food or gold that you were seeking.

You wanted him, and only him as you stared up at Jacaerys. Your E/C eyes met his dark brown ones and you could see them twinkling as he smiled at you, obviously pleased with your answer.

“Hm,” He pretended to think about it for a moment which nearly killed you with anticipation. You bit your lip as his fingers danced dangerously close to your heat, obviously teasing you which you hated.

Luckily though, Jacaerys had never been a cruel man, so it was only a few more seconds of torture before he gave in to your desires. “As you wish then, my love,” He decided, and then his fingers dropped to a place that only he could touch.

“Jacaerys—”

You mewled as his slender fingers rubbed your aching core, gasping when he brushed over your bundle of nerves and then crying out as Jace pushed a finger inside of you.

You were wet, so it was easy for him to sink into your cunt but it didn’t make the stretch any less uncomfortable.

Tears kissed your eyes since you had never had anyone’s fingers inside of your cunt, not even your own, but Jacaerys was quick to soothe you with a simple praise. He whispered how proud of you he was for taking him, encouraging you on until he sunk deeper and deeper.

Your tight cunt welcomed his digit reluctantly, but eventually Jace was able to put his whole finger inside of you and he took note of how tight you were. Something in his brain couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted it to be his cock that you clenched around, but as agonizing as it was to have to wait, he knew that this was a crucial step for you.

So, slowly he began to pump his digit in and out, looking for any sign of discomfort from you. He held your gaze and while it did sting just a little bit, you couldn’t deny that the foreign sensation also felt…kind of good.

You’d never felt anything like it, but it made your walls clench in ways that had you moaning a little. Jace took this as a sign that you liked what he was doing and kept going, something inside of you began to awaken. Pleasure, perhaps, stirring inside of your cunt as Jace pleased you just the way he had learned.

You were gasping and groaning, your mouth forming into an ‘o’ shape when Jace’s finger brushed against a particularly sensitive part inside of your sex. Involuntarily, your hips bucked off of the bed, your back curling to the point where Jace had to hold you down.

He licked his lips as your delicious moans filled his ears and decided all of a sudden that you were ready for more.

Slowly, he sank his middle finger into you and then began to quicken his pace. The added digit surprised you, but it was definitely welcomed by your fluttering cunt. And fuck—you never knew anything could feel this good, broken moans slipping through your lips as Jacaerys assaulted the most sensitive parts of you. His thumb rubbed pleasureful circles against your pearl while his middle and index fingers brushed against your sweet spot over and over again. It seemed that Jace had found just the right angle to please you, and whatever it was had you gasping for breath.

It felt so good and it caused your cunt to clench around him, Jace panting as a tight feeling built up in your stomach. It almost…it almost felt like there was something inside of you that was going to burst, like a dam threatening to overflow at any moment. It built and it built, waves of pleasure lapping over you the more Jace played with your pearl. The combination of him hitting your sweet spot and doing that was enough to send you over the edge, and a strange volcano of bliss erupted over through body.

“Mhmm, Jace! Oh, gods! I’m gonna—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence as suddenly, your very first orgasm rushed over you and stole the very breath from your lungs. You nearly stopped breathing as your cunt clamped down on Jace’s fingers, your sweet arousal coating the digits and the sheets underneath you. No doubt they were drenched from the sin that Jace had just pulled from your body, but that was the absolute least of your concerns.

Your were more worried about the fact that your mind had gone blank, your eyes hazy as you experienced the foreign pleasure.

It caused your body to nearly go limp and you were mumbling incoherent nonsense as Jace watched you. Brown eyes drank in every single detail that was in front of him, burning the image of your sweet cunt coated with your juices in his head. Coated with your orgasm that he pulled from you, despite never even laying with a woman before.

To say he was proud of himself was an understatement. Jace was so happy that he made you come undone with his fingers, but he was so hard that he could barely find it in himself to gloat.

Not when his cock was still straining against his trousers, reminding Jace that the best was yet to come.

His fingers had only been round one. But—you quickly realized that there was more in store for you as Jace began to get undressed.

One by one, you watched with anxious eyes as each article of Jace’s dress clothes came off. First his tunic which had you staring at his defined chest, then his belt which had you trembling in anticipation.

Finally, when Jace’s trousers came off and he was as bare as you were in the moment, you held your breath as your eyes focused on his hardened length.

It was the first time you had ever seen a man in such a way and Jace’s cock intimidated you. It stood tall against his stomach, almost taunting you as he walked closer.

As if he could sense your nerves, Jace’s expression turned to one of sweetness and reassurance as the prince mounted you and positioned himself near your entrance.

Slowly, he began to stroke the tip of his cock against your folds which caused you to pant heavily. You wrapped your legs around his waist like it was instinct, and Jace’s right hand came up in order to loving stroke your face.

He stared into your eyes, and then he began to push himself in.

The pain that everyone described wasn’t so bad, especially not when Jace had already warmed you up. In fact, you were pleasantly surprised that it was no more than a slight sting, that died down as Jace stilled his hips inside of you.

He waited until you were more comfortable to start moving, looking at for the slightest signs to stop. He was always so sweet, your dear betrothed. So loving and gentle with you.

But now, it was time to be anything but.

The ache you had for him was becoming unbearable so you moved your hips to let him know it was okay. Holding on tight as he began to push past your barriers, your walls and hands gripping him tight.

Jacaerys groaned at the feeling once he was fully sheathed inside of you. So tight—fuck, you were so warm. He swore that you were sucking him in, already on the path to milk him dry.

He felt like he was going to come and not that the prince had any complaints, but he wanted to last longer for you. To make your first time special, so he held on and slowly moved his hips.

His pace allowed you to feel everything, every drag of his cock along your walls. It caused illicit moans to escape from your lips and your fingernails to dig into his back.

Jacaerys winced a little at the feeling but you didn’t notice due to the pleasure clouding your senses. The only thing you could focus on was the fact that his cock was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed.

So good—so sweet. Your prince was all yours, and you proved this by leaving small marks on his shoulder.

If anyone asked, Jace would simply tell them they were bites from bugs. Never would he reveal your secret, for he knew what the two of you were doing was forbidden.

But he didn’t care.

The future king didn’t understand how something so wrong could feel so right. It truly felt like you were made for him; born to take his cock for all eternity.

The thought of this caused Jacaerys to snap his hips more violently. His pace sped up and soon his cock was driving in and out with lewd sounds filling the room. The sound your wetness coating his cock became all that he could focus on, his own moans echoing throughout the room as he chased his peak.

Likewise, you were mewling underneath him, eyes closed in bliss. The feeling of him inside of you caused pressure to build in your stomach, which only accentuated when he reached down to play with your pearl.

Gasping, your eyes shot open and you moaned while Jacaerys held your gaze. He was confident in the way he moved his fingers, trusting his uncle and the books that provided his knowledge. Every source he sought out said that this would be action that brung you to your peak, this would make you come undone.

And Gods, how right they were.

Jacaerys watched as you began to writhe underneath him and how your eyes rolled to the back of your head the faster that he played with your sex. He toyed with all of the spots that made you feel good while simultaneously keeping his pace, rocking in and out of you.

It felt so good that you could hardly breathe, let alone think straight as you let out a shout and came without another warning.

Your legs locked up, your cunt clenching down on him and you held onto Jacaerys’ body for dear life as you moaned and writhed underneath him. Your eyes fell to the back of your head and sure enough, not even a second later Jace was joining you with his own peak.

The prince closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he joined your hands together before letting his seed coat your walls.

Nevermind the consequences or the fact that you weren’t even married yet, Jace just wanted to feel you and he did. He made sure that the two of you were as close as possible, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and burying himself as deep he could go.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ear and you drank them in, drank him in as a warm feeling coated your body. You were breathing heavily and you had never felt so sweaty, but you were content laying underneath Jacaerys and looking into his eyes.

At that moment, nothing else mattered to you and when his lips captured yours, you felt complete.

A little sore, but it didn’t matter as Jacaerys pulled away and stroked your face.

“Are you alright, my love?” He asked softly, and you nodded as a smile crossed your face.

“I’ve never been better,” You told him honestly. “That was…amazing.”

“I’m glad I was able to prove myself then,” Jacaerys said, and you both let out a laugh as he pulled himself out of you, rolling over so he could lay by your side.

You had to admit, you felt a little empty now that he was no longer inside of you but the warmth of his body was quickly able to make up for it. Jacaerys wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to lay on his chest whilst you both caught your breath.

You both knew that you only had limited time to hold one another other, since the feast was still raging on and neither of you wanted to be gone for too long. It would be too suspicious so the time that you did have, you cherished it in silence until finally it was time to get dressed.

Your cheeks were hot the entire time you slipped your dress back on and the smile never once left your face. You were so happy, you felt like you could barely contain yourself as you faced Jacaerys again.

Soft hands cupped your face and brown eyes met yours. Jacaerys leaned in to kiss you and you let him, resting your forehead on his as you sighed.

“Back to the monkey fest we go,” You told him sadly, not wanting to go back. You wanted nothing more than to just stay with Jacaerys and lay in his arms forever. You just wanted to be married already and never have to leave your chambers again if you didn’t want to. And you could tell that Jace felt the same way, but you both knew it wasn’t possible. Not tonight, at least.

“We shall be married soon enough, my love, and next time we won’t have to,” Jace promised as he grabbed your hands. They fit perfectly together, and you smiled as he kissed the back of yours. “Next time, we will not invite Jason Lannister and there shall be no more questions as to if I can please my wife.”

There was still distain in his voice and you knew he was still irritated by Jason’s comments. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t upset too, but after what just happened, you knew you didn’t have anything to worry about.

“I think you’ve already proved that plenty,” You told Jace, giggling.

He smiled.

“Come. Let us go back before they come searching for us,” He suggested, and then off you two went, unable to wipe the smiles off of your faces, and the look that Jace threw towards the eldest Lannister once you got back to the feast was full of smugness, knowing that he proved him wrong and that his future bride had absolutely nothing to worry about.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!” 

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place. 

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding. 

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to  theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.” 

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.” 

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between. 

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room  having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?” 

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it. 

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it. 

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it. 

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length. 

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorsky @fan-goddess

[moviecritc]

after midnight ⋆ lestappen

pairing: lestappen x driver!reader

summary: charles doesn't want to accept that he has feelings for both of max and you

word count: 1.8K

warnings: making out, grope? (idk how to saying in english, but in spanish would be meter mano o manosear)

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

part 1 | part 2

Max and Y/N had once again achieved a 1-2, it was the third consecutive race they had achieved this result.

Everyone was cheering their names, and then there was Charles. He had managed to finish third because George DNF'd on the last lap and he took his place in the race.

Charles had always felt a mixture of envy and admiration for the Red Bull duo.

Envy for their driving style and tactics to win all the races and admiration for their personalities. Max stood out simply for being himself, calculating and fierce both on and off the track, his blue eyes sent shivers down Charles' spine. Even more so when he saw him without the fireproofs.

Y/N was slighty warmer than him, but still he feared her, with a somewhat rebellious driving style, Y/N had won the championship last year and was fighting for her second. She was much more open than Max and she was the one who humanized the team, separating her person from her race number very well. Most of the time she was Y/N L/N, when she got into the car she was simply the 1. It was impossible not to fall in love with her, from the moment she joined the competition she had become the girl of the paddock, the representative of all women in motorsport, and she wore it with pride. She has collaborated to form the F1 Academy, has financed dozens of girls to make a place for themselves in the sport and now she was forming her own F1 Academy team with Rare Beauty as a collaborator. She was an ambitious, determined, and also beautiful woman, Charles had found it impossible to resist her.

The most surprising thing was how well Max and Y/N got along off the track, they lived relatively close in Monaco and there had been several times when they had been seen having dinner together. Most of the people said they only had common friends, a few said there was something more than friendship.

The chemistry was undeniable, Y/N brought out the best side of Max in interviews and Max knew how to stop Y/N when she talked too much.

Charles knew the podium was going to be uncomfortable, Max and Y/N celebrating their victories and pouring champagne on each other, and Charles just being there, knowing that neither of them cared at all about his P3.

Surprisingly, Y/N approached him and patted him on the shoulder as she congratulated him, but immediately Max once again drew all of Y/N's attention by soaking her with champagne. Charles drank from his bottle as he watched Max half-kneeling and Y/N pouring champagne from her bottle into his mouth.

That scene caused Charles a strange sensation. Seeing Max like that, slightly kneeling with his hair and suit dampened by a mixture of alcohol and sweat. Y/N with the glow of victory in her eyes and her suit adapting to the curves of her body.

There was something so sexual about that scene that it overwhelmed Charles. His attraction to Y/N he had assimilated, with just a couple of words he knew she would be the woman of his dreams. The problem was that when he was with Max that feeling doubled. The idea of ​​not being a spectator anymore and being with both of them made his heart race.

After finishing all the interviews, Y/N approached Charles. "Hey, we're going to get a drink, wanna come?"

Charles blinked. "Me?"

He pointed to himself, surprised by the invitation and interaction. In all those years he had hardly ever spoken to Y/N, except for business matters, which made her even more ethereal.

Y/N laughed in a natural way and brushed her hair away from her face. "Sure. Max and I usually have a drink with whoever comes third, and today it was you." By the way she said it, it seemed like it was already a routine. "So? Do you feel like it?"

"Uh, yes, yes. I'd love to," he nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Great!" she said with a smile. Charles was impressed by her constant naturalness. "We'll get dressed up and then see you at the club."

Y/N gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and left the paddock with Max, who had been present throughout the conversation from a prudent distance.

At the after-party - for lack of a better term - there were many people from Red Bull, too many, and Charles felt like an intruder. He locked eyes with Y/N, who gestured to him as soon as she saw him. She was at a table almost in the center of the place with Max, some friends, and Lando Norris. That guy was always everywhere.

"Charles! Come here, come on. What do you want to drink?" exclaimed Y/N.

Charles approached, somewhat impressed by all of this. Y/N made room for him next to her and instead of fist-bumping, she gave him two kisses. Max, on the other hand, stretched his arm over Y/N to greet him and then left his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest. Y/N didn't mind.

"P3, huh? That was very good," commented Max.

Y/N groaned immediately. "We always talk about races, let's talk about something interesting."

"Isn't Formula interesting?" Max spoke, tilting his head.

"Not with you," said Y/N.

They all laughed and Max made a face.

Y/N once again focused all her attention on Charles, he noticed how Y/N's heel was circling around his calf.

"What about your love life, Charlie?" she asked, without hesitation.

The nickname caught Charles off guard, and even more so the question. If she was asking, it was because she cared.

Max clicked his tongue, telling him he didn't have to answer.

How was Charles going to explain that every time he had felt some sexual desire it had been because of her and her teammate? "Boring," he ended up saying, with a slight frown.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, almost disappointed. "How can it be boring? You're too handsome for your love life to be boring."

Charles lowered his gaze with a silly smile, noticing that Max hadn't stopped looking at him, as if he too were expectant of the answer.

"Don't listen to her, Charles. She rambles when she's drunk," commented Max, rolling his eyes a bit.

"And you get a thousand times more boring when you drink," Y/N gave Max a pat on the thigh, too close to the crotch for some to think.

Y/N drank from Max's gin and tonic and relaxed against his chest because no one was starting a conversation. She quickly got bored and looked at Max with a pout. "Will you dance with me?"

"No," he replied immediately.

"You asshole," Y/N wasted no time. "Charles?"

Charles looked up from his drink. "Huh?"

"Let's dance," she didn't even ask, she got up and pulled Charles' arm while flipping Max off before heading to the dance floor.

Charles knew she had only pulled him to dance to mess with Max, but that moment was like living a fever dream. The music hardly had any lyrics, it was pure beats on instruments. Y/N pressed her body against his in time with the music, so much so that sometimes it seemed like she was rubbing against him.

"You have beautiful eyes, Charlie," Y/N said, getting close to his ear so much that he could almost hear her saliva. She put an arm over his shoulder and kept dancing.

"Thank you," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Their faces were getting closer and closer, while both could feel Max's gaze on them. When their noses brushed, it was Y/N who stopped, looking at him for a few seconds. She removed her arm from Charles's shoulder and bit her lip, as if she were nervous.

"Hold on, I have to talk to Max," she declared, before leaving the dance floor, leaving Charles stranded and confused.

He returned to the table, not knowing what had happened, but Max and YN were no longer sitting there. Lando pointed in the direction they had gone. He found them leaning against the door of what seemed to be a private room in the club; for a moment, he thought they were arguing because of the tone of their voices, but as he listened to the conversation, he began to feel chills.

"You like him too," Y/N insisted. "Deny it. Deny that it doesn't turn you on when you see him in the fireproofs."

"Damn, yes. But it doesn't matter, I've already told you he won't want to," Max grumbled, with a distressed expression.

"You don't know that," Y/N clenched her jaw.

"He's very uptight, and insecure."

Those two words echoed in Charles's head. Insecure… he knew he was, but he hadn't realized until now that other people might notice it.

"Max, I really want him," Y/N complained. "Just imagining him watching us fuck already turns me on, imagine with us in bed." She pressed herself against Max's chest, with a grimace.

Charles felt an instant satisfaction knowing that they also fantasized about him, at least he wasn't the only weird one. He thought about the possibilities of joining the conversation, or just letting them know he was there.

"Are you Charles Leclerc? Can we take a photo?"

Before Charles could react, Y/N and Max peeked their faces around the door, her with a little smile and him slightly nervous. It was an awkward moment while the fan took the photo, but when he left, both Max and Y/N were looking at him with crossed arms and feline eyes.

"How long have you been there?" Max questioned, raising his eyebrows. He thought his friendship with Charles was going to become quite awkward after that.

Charles didn't waste time. "I… I want to,"

Max and Y/N looked at each other, with a devilish smile.

"Really?" confirmed Max.

"Yes,"

Max didn't need anything else to pull him into the room and close the door behind them. Surprisingly, Charles and he were the first to kiss while Y/N watched them. Then Y/N attacked Charles's lips at the same time as Max left marks on his girlfriend's neck. Being in the middle of the two was too much for her; having so many hands on her made her messy. Eager for more, she pulled Charles's hand towards her inner thigh. He stopped at that exact moment.

A feeling of guilt, almost shame, overwhelmed him. The other two noticed it and stopped as well. "Is something wrong?" Y/N placed her hand on Charles's thigh, but that only made him stand up as soon as he felt the contact.

"I can't…" Charles didn't finish the sentence. "I better go."

[chlmtsdoll]

LIKE A TRUE STAR

౨ৎ Summary: you just won your first challenger. Usually gift giving and showering you in their riches, Art & Tashi have a few more surprises for their special girl 🤍

౨ৎ Word count: 7k

౨ৎ Warnings: smut ! p in v (unprotected) sex, no use of y/n, oral (f) reviving, virgin/inexperienced reader, sugar baby!reader, age gap (reader in early 20’s), Art and Tashi dilf/milf age, innocence//corruption & size kinks, porn ? with a plot, voyeurism, brief spiritual/religious themes, Art and Tashi treat reader like their muse, Patrick is kind of (is) a dick

౨ৎ part one | three | four

Your racket hit the ground as you excitedly skipped off the tennis court, smile blaring and sweaty hair sticking to your face as you ran into Arts arms when he met you by the bleachers.

“You were amazing, baby !” he chucked, spinning you around as he held you tight in his arms, and you were too full of sensation to think anything about anything.

You’d just won your first challenger.

“I did it. I won, I won !” You expressed cheerfully as Art placed you to your feet, embracing you with a proud cheeky smile. You were a sweaty mess — tired and overwhelmed with the last few weeks of non stop training you’d been doing and your sleep schedule being all work and hardly any play (besides shopping) you could now finally rest for a moment. You’re one step even further to nationals this year.

You wanted to jump up and down, squeal even, but Arts soft hold of your hands kept you grounded and fully present. It was until Tashi had came alive in and her eyes had a rare spark in them you hadn’t seen since she first saw you play months ago.

Here it is. What did she think of your game ? Could she have been unimpressed even though you just whipped your opponents ass ? There was really never any telling with Tashi, till she spoke her mind.

You barely had time to wonder or build nerves to contemplate when Tashi had wrapped her touch gently around your face and she cupped your chin to look into your eyes dearly.

“You kicked ass out there. That’s my girl, well done.” Tashi spoke fondly and the corner of her perfect lips turned up into a smile. Your chest had loosened immediately and you couldn’t help but smile more. Her thumbs caressing your cheeks lightly as she leaned in and left a kiss there. Your eyes had closed for a moment and you didn’t want to be any place that wasn’t here with the two people you admired most, and to their enjoyment, their comfort and praise meant the whole world to you.

“I’m a finalist now. Officially.” You gripped the bottom of your skirt with a giggle. “I’m going to nationals.”

Art had smiled down at you, thinking your state was purely adorable really, “and you did it all on your own. You worked so hard, you never let up and that’s what’s important.”

“To have a clear mind.” Tashi nodded and adjusted her purse on her shoulder, a light but reassuring smile making it’s way back to her face as she peered at you. “Okay. We’ve got to freshen you up for the tournament dinner tonight and.. we have a small surprise for you.”

Your eyes lit up again almost immediately shifting between the couple with anticipation, a soft chuckle of shyness escaped your lips “it’s not another protein smoothie is it ?”

“No. It’s definitely, definitely not.” Art laughs and he shoots Tashi a look and she snickers lightly before leading you through the locker rooms.

You got all of your tennis equipment gathered while Art and Tashi had spoken to other sponsors and tried their very hardest to not run into any press. When you’d all gotten back to the hotel you’d been staying in for the time being upstate, a bath was already taken care for you by the maids. Steamy and sitting perfectly waiting for your arrival, ready with bubbles and the smell of rose water lingering through the air. There was even a warmer for your robe that you had gotten quite used to.

All your body lotions, creams and skin care were from luxury brands Tashi had unlimited access to and she would have the maids restock them for you whenever you needed. It really hadn’t even sunken in yet that you got the kind of treatment that only Tashi Duncan had gotten and well, by Tashi Duncan herself. It was like you were living in a dream.

Once you were done bathing and fresh faced, you’d entered your room to find a team of people waiting for you with makeup and hair products laid out neatly on tables. They’d gotten you all pretty and sitting with perfectly glossed pink lips in no time. Pinned curls flowed down your back. You looked ethereal. One of the makeup artists was finishing off your face when Tashi had trotted in with a garment bag hanging over her arm. You watched her place it on the bed and walk over to you, examining your face.

“Perfect.” She had told the makeup artist before dismissing the team and she gave you a likely smile, “surprise is ready.”

You noticed her eyes follow to the bed and you stood to meet her, trying not to bounce over too excitedly and ruin your curls, Art had peeked in not too soon after, he walked over to were his wife stood but his eyes had gone straight to the perfection that was you.

“I just hope she loves it,” he whispered to Tashi and you’d heard, a simper crept onto your lips and had you been a bit nervous now. You started to unzip the garment bag and what was revealed had you nearly speechless with a croaked gasp. Your mouth hung slightly agape, pulling out maybe the most exquisite dress you had ever laid eyes on.

Soft pink sequins glittering underneath the hazy light of the sunset coming through the grand windows, a cream colored top of the dress lined in diamond embroidery and a bow tied in the middle. Valentino.

You could ultimately cry, it was your dream dress.

“Oh my god. It’s my dream dress.. it’s-it’s so lovely, It’s been on runways in Paris.” You tried not to stutter as flustered as you were,

“And now it’s yours.” Art replied and a happy grin appeared across his lips as he watched your expression that held a million words you couldn’t say, excitement bubbling through you.

Sitting down on the bed in front of you as you held the stunning garment in awe, Tashi spoke tenderly, “I knew you’d win and make us proud but Art wanted to do something special… he went and bought it for you.”

You met eyes with the gorgeously fit man, and you had only put your dress down to run over and hug him. “Thank you ! Thank you ! Thank you !”

Art laughed and held you to him gently but with all the bliss intended. You weren’t gonna let up as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your girlish giggle was something that turned his heart to liquid as it felt. Pulling back to look into his eyes again with bashful lashes and a hint of your real blush behind the perfect tint that had been added to your face. Art examined your doe eyes and it took everything in him not to carry you into the other room.

“You deserve it, pretty girl.” He uttered softly, so close and so quick to taking your lips, your breathe hitched a little as you felt Tashi come up behind you as well. Too close but too far.

“We’ll give you anything… and everything.” Her voice was sultry and low. You’d known everything in this moment couldn’t had been more perfect. Tashi couldn’t have been more open to you and that was everything you needed to know. Her lips hovering against your exposed neck and lips readying your skin.

Your eyes could have closed in elation. Art was still holding you up to him and you could say you were sharing breaths from how close your mouths had been to each other, to getting that release. Having both of them at once, finally. Here now. Your mind would go on overdrive as Tashi played with the neck line of your robe, pushing it down harshly slow to expose your shoulder, she had kissed it gently to which led you to let out a satisfied sigh before her presence had been taken back to linger by your ear.

“Get dressed baby, we can’t be late.” She coaxed and you had bitten your lip with want to pout.

Art lowered you slowly and he let Tashi help you slip into the dress once your robe was fully off. Only taking half a look at your perfectly perked breast that we’re exposed to the air, To him, and you watched him watch you. You could nearly see the longing hunger in his to kiss you, dig into you.

You felt like their muse and prize. You felt like a masterpiece they’d put together.

Tashi slipped the straps over your shoulders and let art zip up the back, he took his time as eyes wondered your delicate skin till you were secured in the dazzling piece. You giggled.

“How do I look ?” You spun a bit in front of the mirror and the couple looked at you as if you were some orb shinning just for them. Art stepped back some to examine you as he pushed his hands into his pockets not to touch even as badly as he wanted to. Every second you weren’t underneath him with those wide eyes and ethreal waist was all the more painful..

“Gorgeous. I don’t even want dinner, I just want you.” He complimented honestly and you had blushed terribly.

But he really did, only holding back from the knowledge that Tashi was admit about making it to dinner on time. Their team and friends all waiting for them, but wouldn’t the gratifying feeling of just taking you right now in front of Tashi be worth it ?

He knew seeing you like this, right now, pretty and perfectly put together by him and Tashi, looking at the two of them like some gratifying figures of your worth, would be the last time he looked at you so pure. Saw the innocence and liveliness in your eyes all before they had touched you and brought you to the other end of it all.

It was like his wife could practically read his mind as he watched you.

Her own hands fidgeting with one another in a squeeze and she sighed out briefly before standing. “You look heavenly, everyone is going to adore you, now come.”

Tashi fluffed your hair as you smiled at yourself once more in the mirror facing the ideal, perfect you back to your glance. Art helped you buckle your heels before you all made way to the lobby area where a car was waiting for you just to go to another swoon worthy superb hotel.

When you’d gotten into the dinning hall there was a chandelier hanging above the grand area that had quiet literally been bigger than your old apartment.

You more-less stared at it in awe for a moment before you felt a hand grace the small of your back as Art led you to where the tennis sponsorships and all of Art and Tashi’s wealthy “friends” had been. Even Patrick was there — which was not to your surprise since he had been around quite a lot, but you’d hardly spoken more than three actual conversations with him these past couple months.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of him, but more than he just wasn’t the nicest to you. You didn’t quite understand why at first but overtime you learned that he meant a lot to Tashi and Art, they had a different kind of bond. Something otherworldly. So you’d grown accustomed to his presence around often, and you just stayed quiet really when they’d all been together — Unless he was picking on you for gods knows why. Then, because you just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make fun of him, you’d pull the ‘aren’t you like forty ?’ card against his backhanded comments.

It probably led to him disliking you more, if it even was dislike, because he also would hit on you like a pervert and it made you knowledgeably uncomfortable.

The way his eyes would scan you from his height, being an entire foot taller than you, even taller than Art. And his lips would curl into a maddening grin that made you feel all sorts of frustration… or lust ?

You couldn’t quite figure out which it had been still, or if it were both, but you’d never admit to it regardless.

He’d thought the whole get up between you, Art and Tashi was a joke. Like you’d just been their arm candy for press and Arts torments.

Sometimes you’d thought if it had been internal jealousy hindering his motives towards you.

You had basically taken his closer than close “best friends” attention fully, and they spent as much time with you as they did with their own daughter Lily these days. Leaving an even smaller share of their attention for his own — and oh, how you knew that just pissed him straight off.

Not to mention you were young, had tons of pretty privilege and a bright future ahead of you that he didn’t. It would only make sense when all the facts added up that he wouldn’t take too kindly to you.

and you were honestly content with that.

Dinner had been going for a time and as everyone really fought to talk to Art and Tashi mostly, there were a few times when you were questioned as well. About your tennis training, or what it was like being coached by Tashi, along side Art. How you’d come accustomed to your new lifestyle — to which you’d propose in small, softly spoken answers that made great for your charisma check because they honestly all just adored you.

No one could stop staring at your perfectly put state at the edge of the table with Tashi at the head, and Art directly across from you. You felt like you had the universe and the stars at your hands, a taste of what it was like to be a true star. Like them.

All night you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Art for the life of you, sitting in front of you all honorable and stature.

His perfect blonde waves, glittering eyes when he smiled or laughed, cheek bones lifting and revealing his pearly white teeth, maybe the straightest you’d ever seen. The way he spoke, with so much surety of his successes and how he played with strands of his hair in a nervously cute way after he made a joke that obviously everyone laughed at because not only it was funny, but he is the Art Donaldson.

You tried not to sigh like a swooning school girl, but you really could. Playing with your fork absentmindedly as you took in all that he was.

You really hadn’t been paying attention to any of the conversation that was happening around you, because every time Art had made eye contact with you wistfully he’d given you a soft but reassuring smile. Rolling his eyes playfully when he dodged another question about what it was like to be ad campaigning for Adidas, a question he’d answered countless times that you and him had now made up an inside joke about.

You giggled quietly from across the table at his gesture and you looked around you at the others surrounding before you brought the tip of your heel to Arts ankle.

You inched it up his leg slowly, but enough to get him tripping on words and laughing nervously so his attention would go to you. His eyes made sync with yours as he swallowed. You bit your lip softly to hold back a grin.

“Yeah, I um- I thought it would be a good way to start the season-“ Art cleared his throat slightly as he tried to catch to the conversation as your foot had now been embarking his thigh.

You only took a sip of your champagne as you watched his breathing hitch a little as he struggled. He looked at you with pleading eyes and a slight breath escaping his lips with want. You tried not to break a giggle with how satisfied you were of your small act to get an arousal out of the man, and just make him take you into the nearest bathroom and fuck all of the play out of you. But that was getting more and more difficult as time went on, so you kept teasing him.

That was until you suddenly felt a firm hand grasp your thigh from your left side. Your eyes had darted away from Art to land on Tashi gripping you from under the table. She’d laughed off a conversation with a nearby friend before leaning into you,

“Don’t be a tease.” She affirmed in a soft but demanding plea. You’d sink into your chair and tried your best to hide a mischievous smile.

You couldn’t quite explain it — but something about making the two of them feel like they’d been out of their control of you, purely coaxing out their sexual desires inch by inch turned you on greatly. What else could you do to get a reaction out of them ? And what would they do ?

Taunt you ? Punish you ?

It was all your mind could focus on the rest of the night.

When dinner had been finished off and everyone was mingling now, you’d asked to explore the hotel while Tashi and Art got away with Patrick for more drinks. When you returned, they were all in the lounge area where not to many people were at all, just a few bartenders aside them and it was quite enough to overhear their conversation.

“God, she’s fucking pretty.” You over heard Patrick sputter over a glass of whiskey you we’re assuming.

Which one of his “girlfriends” that he had been prostituting himself to was he talking about now ?

“You two have truly out done yourselves. She has a face of an angel. Literally.”

“Mmm, that’s why we wanted her.” Tashi had added with a chuckle. “Additional to her being talented and well disciplined of course.”

Oh… they had been talking about you.

“I just will never understand. If you two wanted a sugar baby so bad, why couldn’t you have asked me ?” He laughed.

“You patronized us for years, why would we give you money ?” Tashi said so casually as she took a sip of her martini and you’d have to cover your mouth not to let a chuckle escape.

“I like to call it constructive company. And I brought Art back to one of his greatest championship seasons of all time. All those people, all that press, I helped him.”

“By.. patronizing me ?” Art questioned with both sly and genuine curiosity to how high of ignorant heights Patrick would go to prove a point.

“You didn’t help him do shit unless it was up to me.” Tashi denounced, a look turned slightly cold in her eyes and Patrick had chortled, shaking his head after he took another swing of his glass.

“She’s wearing a twelve thousand dollar fucking dress.”

“That she earned.” Art defended and you’d felt your heart skip a beat briefly as you stood a little straighter to listen in, a smile on your lips now.

“By hitting a ball with a racket ?” Patrick couldn’t stop poking fun at your existence being near the couple, even starting off so sweetly — he just couldn’t help himself.

Art and Tashi were so used to his childishness they could handle conversations like this with him from the back of their hand. It amazed you how much they loved him when to outsiders it had seemed like he’d gotten on the very last spectacle of their nerves.

“Is it because I’m not cute enough ? Or wait, let me guess, not close enough in age to your daughter ?”

Tashi had shook her head as she looked away from him, standing next to their lounge chairs at the bar as she’d now been getting fed up.

“You mock and make fun of her age, yet you’re the one sitting over here complaining about not getting enough attention like a child.”

“What would she ever need to complain about ? You spoil the little shit to death!”

Both Art and Tashi had slipped up and shown the undeniable expression on both of their faces that they had been essentially over with the conversation by now, everything would go right through one of Patrick’s ears and out the other. Loving the place of confusion and frustration he had riled them into, Patrick’s lips had upturned into a smile. In his reality, he’d just won.

Half his teeth had shown as he watched Tashi’s state, already dissociative and glacial as she’d washed down another sip from her glass. “Just let me know when you’re ready to turn your little triangle with her into a square.”

Art laughed out loud, leaning onto the countertop of the bar, knowing all too well what hid in his childhood best friend, he’d really known as a shared lover’s heart.

“Envy truly rules you Patrick. Can’t stand to accept her lifestyle or what she has, yet you’d wanna fuck her.”

The brunette looked eloquently pleased as he nodded with smugness and a forced hidden smile. “Likely so.”

Tashi had rolled her eyes at the air, the conversation flowing through it, and the words of a man she’d looked at as simply an idiot she couldn’t help but be in love with in all reality. Leaving her empty glass on the counter and a tip, she had removed her chair to get in Patrick’s face.

Close and well personal. The look in her eye was dangerous but she held an uplifted expression overall,

“Mark my word when I say you will literally never touch her, Patrick. Ever.” The scolding woman left him with her daggers up and in her words.

You could feel your chest practically pound just from the way they’d all basically had a match within itself over you.

You’d gotten so wrapped in their lives in such little time, you were worth something to fight for. Literally their ball to throw and catch with ease. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the thought.

You’d made just as much a dent on Art and Tashi like they had certainly done on you.

♡

You’d both been changed into your pajamas after freshening up when it had been just you and Tashi in her and Arts shared hotel room together. Art had gone and decided to read Lily a bedtime story for the night.

Tashi was in the midst of applying lotion to her smooth defined skin, and you lie on their bed with a tennis magazine in hand as you flipped through pages of the latest issue that Art had been featured in of course.

“I’ve always wanted to model for Alo. You think they’d let me ? Or would I get rejected because I’m too short ? Most likely…“

Your voice had shifted from chipper to slight disappointment quickly as the realization settled into you, you’d always had such heightened dreams dispute your height or petite size, it had been why you’d directed your life to the ballet. Till that too was just another pipe dream.

Tashi made a quiet tiff sound when she’d recognized the heavy-heartedness in your voice, of course, she knew a thing or two when it came to the sunken feeling of failed dreams and living through if only’s.

“You can campaign for whatever and whoever you want… if you keep playing and stay on top.”

You took adjust of her words with a nod and you flipped another page, “Then so be it, I'm afraid I’d go great lengths to add model to my resume.”

Tashi had tittered softly, and it was a moment before you’d noticed a more sustainable silence and you felt like she’d had something pondering on her mind that she just had to get off the cuff, you’d known it would come — but it was just the countdown to when that kept you. You heard soft foot imprints on the hotel carpet as the woman made her way from the bath area to where you’d lay on the bedside.

“Baby, let’s talk for a second.” She ordered quietly and you’d made your way to the edge of the bed where she stood. You tried not to swallow too hard at the news she had to address.

You’re initial habit was to just pray it wasn’t a ‘get the fuck out, you’re no longer useful or wanted’ kind of talk.

“Art and I have been talking about how amazing you’ve been recently with practice, your matches and just staying on top of it all lately. We really are so proud of you.” Tashi began, and you showcased a coy smile, to which she reached out to stroke your cheek gently, her own cheek to shoulder as she ran glossy eyes over your softly faded lipstick and glowing skin in the dim light effortlessly.

She looked at you like some kind of jewel to her goddess ascension. Her touch was heaven. As gentle and rare as it was that you’d ever even got it, made it mean all the more.

It was everything.

“We think you’re ready. For that next step of pleasure,” her words washed over you briefly and your wide eyes blinked rapidly as you took in her softened face.

“I- really ?” You inquired. Tashi nodded slow,

“Really.”

You’d bitten your lip, and Tashi had brought her hand to grasp your chin as she stood above you now. Your eyes had followed her, never breaking for a second to lose her eye-line and she wanted to coo at the way you looked so open and invested in her next move, sentence, whatever she’d given you. She stared down at you,

“But you have to promise, if I let him fuck you, you’ll continue to be good. Better.”

You nodded almost too quickly. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you had forgotten to answer.

“I promise. I’ll be perfect.”

You didn’t know how to tell her you’d been waiting to be theirs in a way that was more than in the game, but physically and within since the beginning. The moment you saw them greet you that day. You’d thought about it dozens of times, Art being inside you, one with you, and Tashi watching, coaching. Instructing you.

Just how you’d been when you played for them on the courts. Perfect with every move they’d asked of you and with each hit of your racket you’d let out another euphoric noise of gratification.

It had all symboled out in your head to lead you here.

Tashi gave you a warm expression, waves gone to curls that famed her face and your elated flush was all you could muster up aside feelings, you hadn’t known what was gonna happen next but all you could do was stay relaxed and prepared.

It wasn’t too long before Art had sauntered back into the hotel room, shutting the door softly he’d made sure,

“Baby, she asked if you could turn up her lullaby,” Art called to Tashi and you’d thought it was ultimately adorable Lily had requested a lullaby still to fall asleep to, and Tashi could easily adjust the volume on her phone.

Art had walked from the door to where he’d appear from behind a wall too see you.

Spotted you lying on the bed. Soft messy curls brushing your shoulders and a pretty bashful smile on your face as you awaited him was almost all too much. He practically pranced over to you as you stood on your knees to push the comforter back for the two of you to settle into.

Art had sunk into the pillows and blankets, you immediately coming to his side as you got comfortable. His arm around you, your head against his chest. Your favorite place to be.

There wasn’t a night that passed since you’d gotten accustomed with the two, that you didn’t spend like this. Cuddled with Art. Safe in the barrier of his arms, your chin had sat delicately on his peck and you’d look up at him as he traced your tender features, a light smile showcasing his lips.

“You were so radiant today.” He chimed sweetly and your eyes wondered his pretty face, looking as if he’d give you the moon right there. “Are you happy ?”

You sat up a bit to look at him fully, your eyes synced up with his, you nodded. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt better.”

Arts smile was hazy and it was smooth when he reached and towed you to him, brushing a thumb against your soft lips and he watched them, “Can I add on to that ?”

You nodded with a light grin, then quickly but with ease, your lips melted into one another.

You’d held a hand to his neck as you took the initiative to deepen the kiss forward, letting his perfectly plump ones take you over and move as one with yours. Breathes passing between the two of you as you both went back and forth to keep mouth over the other. Arts hands glided up your backside softly to slip up under your silk nightgown and you’d adjusted yourself so you had been sitting on his lap, he pulled you tighter in so you’d been flush with his chest and his body was snug between both your thighs.

If there was one thing Art loved so dearly, it was kissing.

His ultimate and favorite way to express admiration. You’d saw it in the way he kissed Tashi’s body tenderly after any small gesture of anything, her wrist, her hips, her chin.

He’d fought for dominance over your mouth even being underneath you, your throat vibrating at the sensation of your tongue meeting his and you let out a soft noise of satisfaction as he kissed you so diligently. He only stopped for a couple seconds in between kisses, “need- - to kiss.. your sweet cunt.” He protested as you’d held his face in your hands.

You didn’t want to pull away from kissing him till he gave you the word, you giggled softly and he’d melted back into the pillows that primed you both. You’d only leaned back so his big hands could inch your hips and pull on the sides of your panties. Soft pink and lace. He and Tashi had always kept you in that color because it was just Arts favorite — seeing it on you did wonders to him and ending up coaxing a tent in his jeans often.

He let his hands linger there before he had pulled them off of you finely, he looked up at you with a pleased grin at how you were so ready for him and receptive to his small but impactful touches. Your skin started to heat up at the shift in the way he’d looked at you. Now with hunger and a million ways running his mind on how to devour you.

You settled a blushing smile as you climbed past his chest and he watched you, with ease you could feel how he’d let his tender fingertips stroke the back of your thighs. He had to push your night gown slightly more over your hips to exposed your heat to him fully.

“Fuck..” he croaked, pressing a kiss to your aching clit already, you’d been wet the whole night practically, waiting for him to have you like this. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, watching him kiss you there made a whimper fall out of you. “Such a pretty pussy, my god.”

His kisses gathering your wetness before a stripe of his tongue had coaxed your folds, it made your head fall back as the sensitivity over came you. You looked back down to watch him maneuver you open because you just couldn’t allow yourself to miss a second of it.

Your eyebrows knitting together as he dipped his tongue into you, nose rubbing up against your clit just right and a deep moan had escaped you. Your hands clawing at his hair briefly and you couldn’t help but move your hips some accordingly to the movements of his jaw.

“Oh- -please.. yes.” You whine and you felt the vibrations sparse through your body as Art had groaned into your core.

You’d fallen out of reality for a second with how his tongue explored the tightness of you, sucking and flicking all over your most vulnerable spots in pleasure. Your hair had fallen into your face as you felt him bring you back to consciousness by grabbing your shuttering hips above him and moving you gracefully against his face, the sent of you overwhelming him in a way that he practically lived for.

Tashi had trudged into the room as she pulled her robe over her arms, she took a seat on the sofa chair that was directly in front of the bed. Her eyes going venal with lust almost immediately as she observed the two of you.

Arts grip on your thighs moved to squeeze your ass, you whined out as you held on to the headboard in front of you. Your savory hips moving in ravenous ways and Art had taken in the way you moaned and whined out for him to continue. Stomach going tight with need to release.

“mmh- Art, i’m coming.. I’m coming,”

You closed your eyes as you gasped out a choked moan. Your juices were meeting Arts tongue like sap, and he’d keep licking you clean till more just dripped down his chin.

Your thighs shook terribly when your orgasm ran though and Art gripped them to keep you still, he moaned out a soft satisfied noise after sucking you to overstimulation.

His hands lifted you up from him, and he moved to level you down on the bed sheets. You smiled in bliss as your head hit the comforter and Art followed your tiny body compared to his. He leaned in to kiss your neck to jaw as he half chuckled half sighed, “you’re so good for me”

You couldn’t help but get bashful at his praise and your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he kissed up your jaw, hands coming in contact with your legs as he kept you spread for him, fingers rubbing up and down your drooling cunt to keep you aroused there. You looked up at him looking down at you, and your delicate hand moved from his shoulder to his sweats he still had on. Palming him through the fabric as your chest heaved.

He was so big. It nearly made you lightheaded from the grasps of his hardness in your hand.

Arts crystal blues followed your expression to where your hand had been active. Looking back to you, “you want it ?”

You nodded shyly, eager to just feel his length stretch you.

“Please,”

“You sure ?”

“I want it to be you.”

Art had looked up and his eyes made contact with Tashi, seeing her view right back. She’d only looked approving without having to say a word, and he was all knowing of that look. He focused back on you, “It’ll hurt first. Then you’ll feel good.. I swear I’ll take good care of you.”

“I know. You’re like ice.” You smiled while he grinned at you and began to lean up from your body to take off his shirt, exposing his bare chest to you along with his enchanting eight pack (you’d counted correctly multiple times)

Pushing his sweat pants aside, you could see the way his cock sprang out and you almost moaned at the sight. It had been everything you’d thought it would be and more truly. He was long and girthy. You struggled to picture how it would fit. But you’ve come to far to get all nervous now.

Tashi raised a brow, she’d noticed your apprehension even from across the room, “You’re thinking. Don’t over think it.”

Her voice came calming and she was right. It was the same thing she’d say to you before you would take your first serve on the court. You don’t think you just feel.

“I’m not overthinking, I’ve never done this before and he’s just- - wow.” Your breath hitched slightly and Art had chuckled at your state as flattered as he was.

“You’re fine.” He noted before pulling you by the thighs up to him again and your giggle filled the air as your locks had followed behind you. He’d been lined up against you and his fingers pushed a few strands of your hair from your face, taking in the sight of your pure beauty and vulnerability. “I’m gonna teach you so many things...”

That made you whimper softly and he hadn’t even been in yet. You bit your lip as his hands stroked your thigh softly and it relaxed you, leading up to your hips as he held you there. Your stomach had gone into knots when you felt the tip of him at your entrance, reaching out to a pillow nearby.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay ?”

You nodded, Art had used the tip of his cock to push open your folds as he slipped through your heat before finding your opening and started slowly sinking into you, his eyes found yours before your face was contorted into pain and you let go of a choked out moan.

Art held you, hands keeping you in place and his eyes locked on you as he made sure to be gentle,

“Hey, look at me.. that’s my girl.” He praised as you relaxed and did so, keeping your focus on him as he pushed on your spread legs so he could bury into you easier. You could feel every vain of him as he filled you up and it was indescribable.

The lips of your pussy starting to go feral with pulse as you took him in till he bottomed out inside of you and you’d never felt so stretched in your life, you started whimpering and trembling at the feeling.

Arts hands had found their way to your most comforting spot, on your hips, as he guided you. The feeling of your tightness gripping him was like heaven on earth.

“I’m gonna move. Remember it’ll start feeling good, yeah ?”

“Uh huh,” you couldn’t really think of words to answer with at this point but you were so glad you had his guidance to talk you through it, through the new feeling you’d never experienced before.

Art started to thrust nice and with perfect pace till your back automatically arched off of the bed, moans and whines poured from your lips as your head fell in pleasure. He was holding you in place and it felt like all you had to do was lie and take him like you’d been fantasizing every night practically. Fully sinking into the feeling of rapture.

Your body began to move with his and you felt him palm one of your breasts as he fucked into you, “mmm, yes- - yeah, fuck” your melted whines sputtered out and Art let out a deep groan at the sight of you beneath him so tight, yet spread, wetness coaxing between the two of you and he slid you up and down his dick.

“That’s it. Good girl.” He murmured, your skin slapping against his and it did feel really, really good.

Your head had fallen fuzzy and you wanted something, anything to hold on to, Art noticed and offered you his hands which you took and held with appreciation. “More- - more !.. oh,” Art had felt your cunt clutching him like a perfect fit and he wished he could hold on to this feeling of having you for the first time, all sweet and spread out for him to take, kept somewhere for him to have forever. But he knew for a fact it would certainly stick with you forever.

The way your fingers intertwined with his as you closed your eyes in bliss he knew you meant it. More — so he picked up the pace and fell to pounding into you. You cried out his name and your chest heaved.

It felt so fucking good

Tashi had ordered room service and everything, a cup of tea. But either of you had been too fucked out to notice.

Pre cum pooled at the base of Art’s cock as he rutted into you and moaned at the sight that would never leave his mind he granted. He felt by the way your walls were fluttering around him that you’d be close soon,

“You gonna cum for me, sweet girl?”

“Yeah, I wanna cum for you, make me cum” your voice had gone weak as he rutted into you and panted, but he thought it was so adorable of your effort to respond even knowing all your senses were on overdrive in the moment.

Your body had began to tremble before Art had flipped and lifted you so your back was as flush with his chest as much as possible with your height difference, and he slipped himself right back within your core which made you let out a strangled cry. He continued fucking you as he held your petite body close to his, moving your hair aside so he could lick a spot on your neck to leave a deep kiss. And you were moaning his name over and over again,

“That’s right baby, I feel you.. you’re so close, let it out.”

You whimpered with each thrust as you took his dick and it was like you had a second heart beat, because when you finally reach your climax, you could of sworn you saw stars.

Ripples of fireworks spreading throughout your body as you came hard. “Oh ! Oh fuck..”

Art panted in your ear and rubbed you through it, feeling you cum around him and the pretty noises that escaped your throat he didn’t even know you had in there. “Shit you’re gonna make me cum..”

“Don’t- - cum inside her yet,” Tashi had began, but it was too late. Art had been pumping you full — you could feel his seed coating your walls as you stilled and let it take over you, mouth completely “o” shaped as you took it and a soft groan slipped out of the both of you.

“Shit, sorry. Is she not on the pill ?” Art breathed eyes meeting Tashi across the room,

“She will be first thing tomorrow morning.” she said nonchalantly and you and Art had practically melted into limbs.

You didn’t want him to, but he had pulled out of you and all you could see was his cum spilling out from your puffy cunt, Art licked his lips at the sight and watched you watch before getting up to get a towel to clean you up.

When he came back your chest had been caving up and down, a grin stuck to his lips as he wiped the cloth between your thighs. “You did so well princess, do you feel good ?” The blonde leaned in to shower you with kisses and you had a dazed smile with glossy eyes.

“Yes… let’s do it again please,” you breathed out and Art laughed before tossing the towel and laying back on the center of the bed with you.

“You can. I’m tired.” He leaned back and closed his eyes after placing you on top of him.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you shook your head, messy curls falling every which way and your arms had hooked around Arts body dearly. Ignoring the way your body had gone limp and you were pretty sore, but you decided that could wait till tomorrow. Just wanting to be there with him without a moment wasted — you lie your head back on his chest and you could feel Art bring his arms to wrap around you sweetly, just holding you there.

A/N: TY guys for all the support on prt one of this series !! I literally love u, and I love it here. This was sm fun to write. I’m like so back <3 also ! tittle of the chapter is inspired by ‘because of you’ unreleased by Lana Del Rey so go listen to it on yt bc it’s so fucking good xoxo

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[3:22 pm] 

(cw: f!reader, pregnant reader)

3 months. That's it. 3 months or about 91 days until dad!Jaehyun would meet his baby girl and time was flying by so quickly. It felt like yesterday he was staring at the two lines on a pregnancy test and feeling faint. It felt like just yesterday he was looking at an ultrasound with a tiny smudge and being told it was the baby.

All these firsts flew by so fast and he was taking it in stride, barely registering how much could change in just a few weeks. Just a few months ago he was crying listening to his baby girl's first heart beat. Just a few months ago he was twirling you around after cutting into a pink cake, surrounded by your loved ones.

He rarely got time to reflect on how fast everything had been changing, but today was one of those days where the hours ticked by slowly. A day where you had both been too lazy to even get dressed fully, too lazy to be out of bed for longer than 10 minutes, and lazy enough to sleep the whole day. Okay, maybe that last one was just you, but Jaehyun wasn't going to argue since you were growing another life inside you.

The TV was playing some random episode of a random show you had put on a couple hours ago. His eyes moved from the screen to your curled up form and he smiled.

Your hair was pulled up into a messy bun, mussed from sleep and laying around. The shirt you were wearing was one of his from years ago, a thin cotton material with holes on the hem that he'd been wanting to throw away for years, but became one of your go to shirts around the house. It was "so soft and comfy" you had claimed, "the baby likes it." It made Jaehyun chuckle every time. Your legs were bare and underwear you had once claimed he would never seen because he "would lose all attraction for you" covered you.

Marriage had changed a lot for the both of you in the best ways. The shirt he hated had become your favorite, a source of comfort. The underwear you hated, had strangely become his favorites on you. Something about you being comfortable enough to share something that once brought you shame warmed his heart.

On any other lazy day 7 months ago, or even longer he knows he'd say and think the same thing, but something about looking at you now felt different, almost majestic. The sun was streaming through the sheer white curtains and illuminating you like you were some kind of goddess. It couldn't be just the sunlight, there was something else about you. Maybe it was a new vibrancy in your skin or the rosiness that had become a permanent fixture on your face.

Jaehyun looked at you and felt his eyes turn into hearts. You were breathtaking without even doing anything. He must have done something really great in his past life, like saving an orphanage from a fire to be blessed with the sight of such a divine being. A goddess just inches away from him and his wife.

Love wasn't even an emotion strong enough to describe how he was feeling. Yes, of course he loved you, but if you mixed love with cherishing you, adoration, besotted you, infatuation, and being enamored by you, maybe that would get closer to how he let for you.

You stirred and he stilled, his breath caught in his throat. You blinked your eyes open with the most adorable groggy face ever and in that moment he prayed that your daughter would come out looking just like you. Another human that looked like you for him to dedicate his life to.

You stretched your arms up, your bump arching into the air, before you settled with a sigh, "why are you staring at me?"

"Because I love you."

You snorted, pushing his face away with a gentle hand, "weirdo."

Jaehyun laughed, turning his face to press a kiss to your palm, "you love it."

"Something more than that," you hum, turning your attention back to the screen with your free hand resting on your bump.

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

[copperbadge]

I knew when I gave my stepfather all twelve seasons of The Big Bang Theory I would likely be watching some of it with him, and it's a real experience. I watched a couple of early seasons of the show when it was airing, partly because my folks liked it so it was something we could text about and bond over, but I was usually half-paying attention.

When my stepdad put on a couple of episodes from the season nine DVD, at first I thought we were watching a clip compilation of some kind, because they were jarringly abrupt -- most scenes only seem to last about thirty seconds and rarely are you in one for more than two minutes; often the scenes seem to cut off prematurely. A lot of the time you can read from context what happens next in a scene, but the actual action of it is skipped over in favor of leaping to another weird mini-scene.

There are even sometimes scenes where within the action of the moment there's a slice of conversation very clearly missing -- for example, three of the characters are testing out a retinal scanner, and after finding that it works in conventional ways, two of them try to fool it by showing it one of each of their eyes to scan. But between the "this is how it works" moment and the "let's try and trick it" moment, there's a really rough cut where them coming up with the idea to trick it was clearly meant to go.

It's evident that this was done to tell the most story in the least amount of time, since at this point in television even a 22-minute sitcom was pushing the boundaries of length. But in a way I think it also suggests some reasons the show was so popular. Watching a show cut in this way, your own mind is doing about 40% of the storytelling, and if you're telling a story to yourself you're more likely to enjoy it than when you're being told a full cohesive story, since you have more control over the narrative and can tailor it to your preferences.

It's truly wild to see a fevered collage of mildly suggestive innuendo and jokes designed to appeal to a 4chan teen from 2005 semi-convincingly pass itself off as a narrative, and be viscerally aware that it did it for twelve years.

[star-trek-dumb-comics]

I guess I forgot to post this but - last year I made a bunch of star trek OCs ! They're a group of friends who all serve abord the USS T'Sera during the late TNG era. I just really wanted to design a friend group made up of the four original federation founding members lol

They're on my ArtFight if anyone here participates

Here's some info about them :

Khov is a xenobiologist. Quite the Andorian history nerd, he won't shut up about the Ch'eraotherh Dynasty (his Roman Empire).

His naturally emotional disposition as an Andorian especially expresses itself when he's nervous or under some pressure, making him seem jumpy or easily panicked. But he's as capable of doing his job and performing under pressure as any other Starfleet officer -  externalizing his emotions is just the way he regulates and keeps a cool head.

He's usually well spoken and witty (you need to when you're friends with Rog and Ketis) but when it comes to romantic encounters he easily gets flustered. He has a (not-so) secret crush on the chief of security of the T'Sera, which he is very embarrassed about

Nadia is a relief helmsman. She's very eager and optimistic, and motivated to move up in the ranks. She loves piloting and daydreams about saving the whole ship with her prowess at the helm (and maybe even have a maneuver named after her, why not !)

She's a space native, her parents worked on a deep-space cargo freighter.

She often appears chill and the "reasonable middle ground" in her friend's heated debates (which they call "human mediator syndrome").

She also loves discussing couple gossip and gives a lot of romantic advice despite never having been in a romantic relationship herself (she's probably aroace but hasn't really thought about it)

Rog is a security officer. He first met Ketis on his arrival day during his medical checkup - during which he got into one of the most fun arguments in his life, and they've been best friends since then.

He values honesty and despises bootlickers and people pleasers. In that he counts those who try to start an argument with him as a pleasing tactic - he wants his debates to be genuine, thank you very much !

He's also a bit of an order and cleanliness freak.

His job at security made him very observant and perceptive . He's also capable of functioning on very little sleep.

Ketis a medical technician. He genuinely enjoys his friend group of varied emotional species, he finds it stimulating and an intellectual challenge (as well as a test of his emotional repression). He also finds their reasoning and points of view interesting and is always taking them into consideration. All this makes him pretty critical of some vulcans' arrogance and sense of superiority over other species, which he considers an to be an emotional response.

He particularly likes debating and can hold a friendly argument tirelessly, which is always good when being friends with a Tellarite.

He suffers from motion/space sickness, which is rare for a vulcan - and especially for a vulcan in starfleet. He sort of became infamous for it on the ship after an incident where he threw up on the Captain (who he was taking care of in sickbay during a red alert). Good thing he's purely logical because that'd be really embarrassing !

[oopsdevil]

COD + Tropes

which trope do they fall into when it comes to you.

SIMON GHOST RILEY + FWB TO LOVERS

i have said it before but simon really struggles when it comes to relationships.

he insisted that this was a casual thing but soon realized that's not true. from the way his heart beats faster when you rarely cuddle, to his trouble sleeping wondering if maybe you were with some other bloke. his insecurities got the best of him and he would end up saying something mean out of jealousy. when he saw you took offense to it he decided in four seconds that he was not gonna lose you. he confessed his feelings (in a sentence or two) and since then he has no problem with everyone knowing you are his.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

kyle was always a romantic. outspoken, proud romantic. you guys probably met in high school and just fell in love. you both knew you were it for each other but everyone kept insisting it was just a first love kind of thing. it was not.

circumstances brought kyle into the army and leaving you was the hardest of it all. you both also decided staying together was just gonna be painful so you broke up.

a couple years later kyle came home and got his life together as an adult. after seeing the reality of bills, rent, taxes and just life, he realized maybe he doesn't wanna do it at all without you. a call and a few tears is all it took for admitting you are still each others soulmates.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + FAKE DATING

look at me in the eyes and tell me this is not HIS trope. it was simply meant to be. maybe he saw you in a bar and some guy was being too insisting for his liking, maybe johnny got sick of his family asking about a future wedding or maybe gaz told you guys you couldn't pull it off and you took the bet. doesn't matter, but it happened.

after months of intense eye contact across the room, flushed faces when realizing you were holding hands but there was no one around and holding you by your hips for group pictures, johnny felt his stomach turn when you mentioned something about going on a date with some other soldier for real.

next thing you knew he was kissing you against a bathroom door. really kissing you, not like those pecks for the public that always left you wanting more. in breathless sentences you both decided to be together like you always wanted (probably in a quick to be continued kinda way so you could keep kissing)

KÖNIG + SLOW BURN

it took him years. years.

from the moment he saw you in base he was thankful his hood could hide his red face when he developed a crush in about 15 seconds. he was also very surprised when you just talked to him.

könig kept you as a friend for years and himself busy with missions, it wasn't until you were thinking about transferring when he decided you wouldn't do it. you can't just go, right?

the only condition to staying was a very long conversation with him, where you admitted being in love with him for the longest time, and thinking maybe he felt the same way. but after that many years you needed to have him now, or just try to move on.

i don't think könig ever felt that relived. he mumbled something in german, suddenly ripping his hood off and kinda tackled you to the bed in a hug. you laughed and decided yeah, this is gonna work.

JOHN PRICE + FORCED PROXIMITY/ SECRET RELATIONSHIP

having a new secretary in his office was the last thing john needed.

he was sure it was about the fact that it was someone new in his personal space, someone who knew nothing about his routine.

it obviously had nothing to do with the fact that he looked at you longer than he looked at papers. or about your accent being so distracting to him that you had to say most things twice.

being trapped in an elevator with him was the last thing you needed.

again, its about the fact that you have so many things to do for your impatient boss (not about his cologne being intoxicating and his shoulders looking a little too big right now)

neither of you knew how it happened, but it did. and you were sure he pressed you against every inch of the elevators walls while kissing you like a mad man.

the truth is everyone else on the team knew the reason why you drove each other crazy, and john was more than grateful when the person who opened the elevator doors and saw the state of you was simon.

after fixing your clothes and an awkward apologize to simon, you talked about it.

having a secret relationship with him didn't last long, this man likes to move fast. but after the elevator incident, you were more than okay with that.

[risuola]

IV — EPIPHANY // Sukuna thought nothing can break him. He's powerful, he has influence and means to always come on top – or at least that's what he thought, because now he realized that he's nohing but weak.

contents: angst, blood, usage of weapon, reader discretion is advised — 2,6k words

a/n: in this part i wanted to give you a little insight into Sukuna's persona. show the menace in him, show the threat and how he is when he's not influenced by weakness that is our precious y/n (aka when he's not confused as hell by what's happening in his heart). i rewrote this part four times before i was finally somewhat satisfied with it.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

You are safe with me.

Sukuna thought about the words with hilarity. The sentence so simple and kind, it felt foreign to realize that his own mouth allowed it out of his system. An odd sort of disdain washed over himself and he found it laughable that throughout his entire career of blood and murder, what made his blood pressure raise up was a lie he told you. A strangely comic amalgamation of letters and syllables that each time he thought of them made him more angry and more amused.

You were safe, technically, or maybe that’s what he wished to believe when he replayed the events of one very unlucky Sunday evening in his memory. It began lovely, too lovely in fact, but he chose to actively ignore the oddity of it – he came to terms with how easily you were able to render his senses useless whenever you came into the field of his view wearing something as pretty as the dress you picked for the date that day. It was in a shade of pink that you deemed similar to the color of his hair, a dusty rose, you called it, and Sukuna wasn’t sure exactly how much truth was that, but he couldn’t care less about it when you looked so drop dead gorgeous. When he watched you walking next to him through the crowded alleys in the park nearby your apartment building, he couldn’t help but notice only you in the mass of people around him. He felt like a teenager in a way, with his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage with pace similar of this after sprinting for long time. You were capable of triggering reactions in his body that he thought were long gone with the days of his youth but he was fine with it. As long as he could witness your beauty, he was fine with everything.

Sukuna laughed gravelly as the sequence of memories played in his mind – the dark sound of his voice causing two police officers outside the bars of his cell to tremble. Oh, how much he hated you and your stupidly breathtaking face for whatever the hell you did to him. If he could, he would tell you what he thinks of it right now and if not careful enough, he might tell you a little too much. Confess maybe. Yeah, he might do that someday. And maybe move out somewhere where you’d truly be safe. Where he wouldn’t feel like a fucking idiot for saying words that are so damn obviously a lie.

Moving out felt like a good idea. In couple of years, when he’s done ruling the criminal forces, he could take you out of Japan, somewhere far away and protect you from any harm. He’d take you somewhere warm, where he could shamelessly admire the way your skin tone looks under the golden rays of sun and the way your eyes shine and glisten like the most expensive and rare gemstones. The thought of you brought a wide smile to his face, as the picture spread in front of his closed eyelids. In the cold of his cell, he could almost feel the burning touch of your fingers tracing the shapes of his body.

* * *

Sixteen days.

It’s been over two weeks since you last saw Sukuna and it was getting harder and harder to go about your days. You missed him. You missed his face, his strong arms that manhandled you around despite your playful taps and tugs. You missed the huskiness of his voice, the low purrs he made in the morning whenever he’d nuzzle his nose against your temple inhaling the scent of your skin that he swore he was addicted to. And above all, you were worried and restless, and scared.

Whenever you closed your eyes, your mind was flooded with memories of the Sunday date you went on with Ryomen. He picked you up and handed you a little bag filled with your favorite mochi – the ones stuffed with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, a delicacy made in only one place in Tokyo and you remember how your heart swelled with warmth and love when you realized he had driven to that shop on the other side of the city just to get you few pieces of sweets. He was wearing his usual, black dress pants and a leather belt, perfectly polished boots and a dark grey sweater that made him look both casual and dangerous, with the tattoos around his wrists exposed under the rolled-up sleeves and his sharp features, that somehow whenever were turned towards you seemed a little bit softer.

You felt like a princess next to him, you felt loved and protected with his large hand enveloping your smaller one in his warm embrace. It was perfect. It was perfect until–

You didn’t exactly pick up what happened and how it happened. Even now as you think of it, you can’t truly recall how that tale-like evening turned into a mess that led you to lose your sleep every night that followed. It was a flash. One second you were leaning into Sukuna’s palm, greedy to steal his warmth and love and next one you were pushed tightly against his chest behind a bench. His hand, that was embracing you with as much delicacy as one would use to touch a doll made of porcelain was suddenly pressed harshly to the side of your head, covering your ear. Someone was shooting, Ryomen was shooting. You felt the impact of each bullet being extracted from his weapon. Each one of the subtle shakes of his muscular body reverberated throughout your smaller frame. You heard guns, despite his effort to protect your eardrums, but the loud explosive sound mixed with screams of people around was loud and clear in your head. An echo of danger and violence that you witnessed firsthand even though the man that held you did everything he could to protect you from the event.

You remember vividly the moment Sukuna groaned and cussed lowly. It followed a soft tremble of his large body and at first you didn’t realize what happened, but then you felt the unexpected wet warmth on one of your hands. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he was telling you over and over again as your eyes began to water at the realization that one of your palms was covered in blood. His blood.

“It’s just a scratch,” he was lying to you, but you didn’t know it was a lie until you saw him later. The magazine in his gun was empty sooner than you thought it will be and the foreign shooting continued. It seemed like there were few attackers, but you couldn’t tell where all of it was coming from. All you remember was that you stayed hidden in the large body of your lover for the entire time until the police sirens broke the scene.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, doing everything in your power to hold back sobs, as he kept you close to himself. You knew that police couldn’t be good for him and if not for you, he would most likely run away somehow, but he stayed there, behind the bench, holding you tightly and making sure not a single bullet could land on your fragile body.

He didn’t look mad, not even annoyed, when he was telling you what to do next and how to act in the face of what was to come, and even though you had the hardest time registering it through the immense fear you felt regarding his future, you were nodding. He was calm, and you thought that he stayed calm for you because the scene of shooting was enough of a distress for you already. And then, you saw him in handcuffs, with his hands shackled behind his back, guided towards the police car. Cops that were responsible for escorting him looked almost funny next to his towering frame and if he only wanted, he would quite easily throw those officers away. But he didn’t. And he didn’t do it to save you.

You remember the last time you saw him he sent you a smile, more so a smirk, when one of those cops harshly pushed his head down, making sure he got into the car. Few moments later, he was gone and you were left with the mess of the crime scene and the burden of a witness.

Later, you were informed by one of his pawns that it’s not gonna take long, but you knew that things were serious because few days slowly turned into a week and then two weeks and he still was in jail. And you couldn’t go visit him because he said so. You stayed in his house, safe and sound in the bed you always shared with him, except now you were alone and cold. You missed him. And you were worried.

It killed you inside to think Sukuna might face charges. A life sentence, most likely. There was only so much that you knew about his criminal past and you were sure that he kept many secrets from you, that he wanted to save you from the heavy burden of his misdeeds and cruelty. You knew how dangerous his lifestyle was, how dark was the path he chose to fallow and you knew that even someone as strong as him couldn’t escape the jurisdiction forever. But why now?

You couldn’t shake off the devastating feeling of emptiness whenever you wandered between the luxurious interiors of his mansion. It felt like you couldn’t stop worrying, day in and day out you were thinking if he was alright. Was he properly fed? He told you that he won’t contact you while in jail to protect you, but all you wished for was just to hear his voice. You were worried about the way authorities treat criminals of his sort. What will they do to him? The mere thought of torture or interrogation filled you with dread and anxiety. You never felt so alone and helpless.

* * *

It took too long.

In fact, detention took much longer than Sukuna anticipated but time behind the bars was nothing but an entertainment for him. It was amusing, it allowed him to let loose. Surrounded by an air of sadistic satisfaction he didn’t get to experience in years, he played game of pushing and pulling, a game of power. Despite being enclosed and surrounded by dozens of officers and guards, Sukuna had a sense of control over his situation, and it amused him. He was enjoying the misery that he caused others, relished in the fact that he was feared and hated. It made him almost giddy. There was a twinkle in his eye and a playful grin on his lips, he relished the experience.

“I’ve got few questions to you.”

He smirked, sitting smug and relaxed. For the nth time he was questioned; a futile attempt of getting information out of him, yet another display of the illusionary power that authorities thought they had but lacked severely. It made Ryomen laugh out loud each time he sat against a new face, it pleased him, he loved the feeling of having the interrogator’s full attention. Detectives that tried to enforce the law onto him looked tough, each one of them, until they dropped their weight onto the metal chair in the interrogation room. The heaviness of the sinister aura was unnerving to anyone who dared to approach and the criminal enjoyed breaking them one by one.

“Do you?” Sukuna spoke, his voice low and menacing, but bearing a thrill of amusement and excitement. The heavy chains that grounded his frame clinked as he moved just slightly and the shiver that went down the spine of the man in front of him did not escape his watchful eye. “Afraid?”

“Hardly,” a tone of false confidence responded to the question and Ryomen chuckled. To him, this was a game, and he was winning. He found joy in annoying the interrogator, knowing that he couldn’t get anything out of him. It was stimulating, it was fun. It was a game of cat and mouse. It felt euphoric to answer the questions, knowing that his words were confusing, that he was able to mess with the man’s head, make him question his own judgement.

Years and years of being on the top of mafia managed to clear his memory of being vulnerable and the caricature of it that he was now experiencing served for a nice refresher. He felt excitement to play with the law and as he sat there, restrained by metal bounds, he realized why he became a criminal in the first place. The constant chase of thrill and power was what made him who he was.

As the detective sat there, intimidated more and more with each passing second, Sukuna watched the disaster unraveling with a dark glint in his eyes. He enjoyed every moment of the tension and knew that chills were running down the spine of his current opponent. He was imposing, savoring the fear and the exquisite feeling of danger that surrounded him. It was intoxicating, it made him feel alive. He played with the interrogator as if the predator would play with its pray, he stared at him with a small grin of pure evil.

“You’ve been stubborn this whole time,” the officer said, clearing his throat and straightening his spine to make himself appear bigger but to Ryomen, he was merely a source of amusement. The criminal stayed relaxed and leaned forward, slowly closing the distance between his own face of death and the eyes of the person in front of him.

“Was I stubborn?” He questioned, his tone low and menacing and his lips stretched slowly, baring the teeth. “You’ve got me all chained up and still, you can’t get your job done?”

“You’re chained up because of the potential threat you might pose.”

Sukuna laughed. A raspy and low chuckle came from his throat; a dark omen that hung heavy in the air as if signifying the upcoming danger. It was cold and malicious, an ominous showcase of his real persona, of someone who has no compassion and knows no mercy. He felt a twisted sense of satisfaction at the sight of sweat running down the face of the man in front of him. He exuded an aura of fear, leaving everyone in the room unsettled.

“If I only wanted to, I could rip out your throat with my bare teeth.” Ryomen’s voice was low, it was quiet and nearly whisper like but the message it carried was more than enough to freeze the blood inside the veins of the interrogator.

“I assume you’re familiar with the idea of good cop bad cop method,” the man spoke again after a moment of dread. He cleared his throat once more, squared up his jaw.

“And which one are you?”

“Oh, I’m neither, but allow me to show you something,” interrogator reached to the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a phone with his sweaty palms and pressing down few buttons.

The moment Sukuna looked down on the screen, his expression changed. A ghost of anger washed over his features as he took in the picture. Suddenly, he felt a wave of burning hot filling his veins and reaching his face; a dizzying sensation of dread and rage and then he realized that the power he wielded was nothing. With his eyes fixed on the little phone and his jaw clenched, shaken by the rush of adrenaline and with his knuckles white, Sukuna Ryomen experienced acknowledgement. An epiphany of sorts. The illusion of might and influence burst like a bubble made of soap and slowly he realized that he’s nothing but–

“Seeing something familiar?”

–weak.

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