#naming these things gives me such a hard time

[hencheri]

— dior girl

▸ 18+ mdni.

When Park Sunghoon wants something, he gets it no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands, but he has absolutely no morals.

| pairing. designer!sunghoon x fem!reader

| warnings. dark!sunghoon (he's not a good person lol), implied legal age gap, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, mention of gain weight, manipulation, corruption, violent sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, anal play, dacryphilia, aftercare because yes sunghoon's a sadist but he still has a heart.

| wc. 7.5k

| a.n.: repost from an old blog. pls forgive me for how lengthy the smut is (or thank me)!!

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place where he can spend hours without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio, it feels like time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, or the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's working on.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of that dress. At some point, it was consuming his entire mind, the only thing he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally making it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever created. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Sunghoon is. It's going to be the design of the year—of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of it all. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Sunghoon still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Sunghoon when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. 

"Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims and Sunghoon immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Soobin. "I have someone to introduce you."

Sunghoon raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Soobin who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he never really cares about the many girls Soobin brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Sunghoon turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Soobin's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs—the one he wants and has to ruin.

Soobin introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Soobin raises his eyebrows in Sunghoon's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Soobin before glancing at Sunghoon who still hasn't looked away from you. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt as you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, so eager to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Sunghoon says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile—stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it shallow. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him, so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex. 

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Soobin begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." 

You chuckle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Sunghoon as if waiting for some praises.

Sunghoon faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you sooner. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, his to kiss and fuck. His to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

"Careful," Sunghoon softly says as he catches you up before you can fall to the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost stumble. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Sunghoon looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Sunghoon knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol during your diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just a glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Sunghoon himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you noticed nothing and gulped everything down. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Sunghoon assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... 

Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Sunghoon announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" 

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them by the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Sunghoon sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper—a secret, a confession only you know. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Sunghoon will fix your mistakes. 

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks—he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Sunghoon as if his simple presence will make all of your problems go away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Sunghoon everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, wrinkling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Sunghoon breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days earlier when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. 

He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Sunghoon will make you walk the runway wearing his dress—the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Sunghoon softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." you begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Sunghoon wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. 

You swallow, "On my ass, Sunghoon," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Sunghoon purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor. 

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Sunghoon stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you. 

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours. 

He sees that your ass is a bit more loose than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock—though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not. 

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side? 

He's choked you before—smacked your ass hard till you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements. 

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Sunghoon wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much—with all of your pathetic being—and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiples, and being the poor girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary. 

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice, "how about we play with it a little?" 

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase. 

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Sunghoon brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well. 

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you, sinking in gradually as Sunghoon holds your cheeks apart.

"Feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Sunghoon. 

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, leaving his stinging handprint on you. 

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?" 

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug. 

Sunghoon genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way—though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway. 

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever. 

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt. 

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy. 

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out. 

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Sunghoon holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock. 

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin burning after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip. 

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Sunghoon. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex. 

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before. 

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls envelop him tightly. 

He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your neck and shoves your head against the mattress. 

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace—fucking is never soft or loving with Sunghoon, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public, and releases when he gets intimate with you. 

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. You've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Sunghoon whenever he feels like it. 

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, to be ravished and delighted to have his cock sliding against your walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head into the bed covers with more strength. 

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Sunghoon's hand still pushing down on your head. 

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and onto the bed. Your pussy swallows all of him, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You hold the bed sheets between your fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Sunghoon and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you. 

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock. 

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Sunghoon controls you—controls your life and thoughts. 

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you and as he holds you by the throat, he lewdly licks the side of your face in a long stripe. 

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers the words to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so badly like the slut that you are.”

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy. You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud.

"Yes, want to please you, Sunghoon," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on you. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid. 

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you. 

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features. 

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you were on him, how impossible it was for you to live without someone to guide you. 

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room. 

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around him once again. Your hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest. 

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Sunghoon lets go of your face and hips. 

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Sunghoon slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress. 

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and milky skin. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only thing remaining on him being the watch crowning his right wrist. 

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes. 

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction—more pain. 

He doesn't mind being naked because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Sunghoon is imposing, his cock thick enough to split you in half. 

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator that has caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, your hole pathetically quivering—missing his size terribly. 

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart," Sunghoon instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. There's still a bit of lube left on it and around your ass. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after. 

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaked from your pussy. His cock is so close to it and Sunghoon could slide right in with one movement of his hips. 

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in. 

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, staring so obsessively at your rim. 

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush down to his cock at the mere thought of hurting you. 

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it—he needs it. Accuse him of having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him of everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame. 

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more force. "Can you, baby?" Sunghoon asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you. 

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you. 

"Yes what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain. 

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut. 

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails into the flesh of his biceps, only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Sunghoon groans at that, stuffing more of himself into you. "Good girl," he praises.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used on you. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink. 

The tears roll down the side of your face and Sunghoon can't help but love the sight, leaning in to kiss your face and collect one of your tears, tasting the saltiness of it on his tongue. 

"Sunghoon!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful eyes. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin. 

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks a breath through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough. 

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, going down to your collarbones and pawing at your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you. 

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first. 

The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation. 

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependent on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Sunghoon because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically. 

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. His finger gently circles your clit to make the pain more bearable. 

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..." 

A choked moan is all that escapes your mouth. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his shoulder blades.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place—making sure you know that he’s always in control. 

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Sunghoon bottoms out. It starts to feel good for you—really good—and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning. 

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fingers.

He pulls away from you, his full lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms. 

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lets out a low groan, holding eye-contact with you. 

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You love to feel his pulsing veins under your fingertips.

"Sunghoon..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to smooch over your neck again as you expose it to him, his lips pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly. 

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure. 

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby.” 

He slowly halts his hip thrusts and he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass. 

Sunghoon raises himself up from you and gets out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed. 

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Sunghoon commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees. 

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head. 

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Sunghoon's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the room. 

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair. 

You relax your jaw for Sunghoon, allowing him to stuff more of himself into your mouth. He looks down at you, watching at the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. 

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take him whole each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases. 

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, "you're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again. 

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said, sending vibrations throughout his entire body. He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes burning as Sunghoon fucks your throat roughly. 

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet. 

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Sunghoon's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself. 

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Sunghoon's moans and the feeling of his cock weighing down on your tongue. 

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger smoothly flickering over your sensitive bud.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Sunghoon can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him. 

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Sunghoon penetrates your pussy, bending your legs over your stomach. 

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed right away, tits moving up and down on your chest. 

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly it hurts. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high. 

You let out a high-pitched moan when Sunghoon suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your cunt. 

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips. 

Your pussy clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep in you. When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering you in his cum. 

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made of you. 

Later, Sunghoon is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall. 

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his dress, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes. 

He thinks about everything that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Sunghoon. 

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five. 

Sunghoon knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you. 

But that's why he's here, he'll take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his—solely and completely. 

"Sunghoon?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest. 

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?" 

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them. 

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best. 

Sunghoon was satisfied to see that his name stood out amongst everyone else's, being mentioned more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about. 

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you contributed to the fame a lot. 

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Sunghoon needed. 

But every good story has an end, doesn't it? 

When Sunghoon comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, the city draped in the dark, splotches of bright yellow light flashing in front of your eyes. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes. 

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that happened the past weeks in your head. 

It was going to happen soon or later anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all. 

Sunghoon was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen. 

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with or without Sunghoon's sabotage. He did you a favour. 

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Sunghoon was feeding you. The bottles of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea. 

You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to. 

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, still looking outside. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..." 

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Sunghoon comes home. 

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says. 

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts. 

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you." 

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed till the end of it. 

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away. 

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you—close all of your past wounds and create other ones. He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you—he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

[oceantornadoo]

ch10 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: reader is a kidnappee

masterlist | next

“How do you think we would have met in the real world?” You ask. His fingers tangle with yours, raising them high to your bedroom ceiling. “Hm. Regular customer at y’r store.” He answers. The bright Sunday morning light filters through the bedroom curtains, making the room glow like a dream. “You think I’d still own a bookstore in another life?” John nods against you, his head on the pillow next to yours. “Y’r made fer it. Tha’ I know.” You smile at the thought.

“What would you do?” He’s silent for a moment, thinking. “Military. I’m built f’r violence, can’t imagine anythin’ else.” You frown, hoping for a more positive answer. “It would be dangerous. And you’d be gone a lot. I don’t think you’d qualify as a regular.” You protest against the fake scenario. He squeezes your hand, comforting the sudden rush of emotion that made your last word wobble. You hoped for one future where a little boy named John could chase his interests, not living in a warzone. “I’d get a desk job when we got married.” You turn to your side, meeting his eyes with a grin.

“You’d marry me?” He turns on his side as well, hand catching the side of your face. He strokes the softness of your cheeks, calluses pulling against moisturized skin. “I’d marry ya in any universe. Flirt with ya at the checkout counter. Find your favorite books an’ get th’ author to sign them. Bring back stories from foreign countries. You don’t know what I’d do to find ya and keep ya.” Your breath catches. It’s the closest thing that he could give to a love confession. It’s tailored to you as a person, not just empty platitudes. You peck him on the lips, pulling back before he can distract you. “I’d find you too, John.”

When you wake, you’re cotton headed with a bitter mouth. You try to lick your lips but are stopped by the gag in your mouth, so jarring it took you a second to realize it. As the fog clears, you take stock of the situation.

A gloomy room, water dripping in the corner with a singular light hanging on the ceiling. It’s a bit chilly, air rushing through the thin button-up you’re wearing. (John’s. But you can’t think about him right now.) You’re still in the jeans you wore to work, thankfully. Hands handcuffed behind you to a cool metal chair, your legs secured to the bottom of it. And of course, the fabric gag in your mouth, reflected in the mirror in front of you that has to be watched by your captors. You glare, hard.

You were kidnapped after lunch, and thankfully you’re only a little hungry. The only sense of time you have is your bladder, pleading you to get to a bathroom. It must have been a few hours at least, since you’d only drank a little at work. You guess it’s around 6 pm, before night peaks around the earth in full. All you do is stare at your reflection and wonder how you let two enemies into your bookstore.

The metal door at the corner of the room creaks with effort. When you turn your head, Phil is standing there, sealed plastic water bottle in hand. “How’re ya feelin’?” You stay silent behind the gag, content to glare at your former assistant. He sighs and closes the door. You hear someone lock it from the outside. Phil approaches cautiously, opening the water bottle as he walks.

“‘m takin’ your gag off and you’re gonna be a good girl and not scream.” The phrase good girl is like poison to your ears. Something only your husband is allowed to call you. You stay bitterly silent as he tugs down your gag, dirty fingers brushing your face. You force yourself not to react, eyes trained on him. Phil brings the water bottle to your lips, tilting your head back to drink. While you would refuse out of spite, you don’t know the next time you’ll get water. Drops of water slip down your jaw, cooling your skin even more.

“Now, I’ve got some questions for you, sugar. Answer ‘em and you’ll be outta here in no time.” He leans back against the wall, hands in his pockets. You have a feeling you won’t be getting a bathroom or dinner anytime soon.

-

Stupid Kate and her no-phone rule. She’s notoriously strict with devices when meeting with clients, especially potential ones. John was in that meeting for many grueling hours with a potential gun vendor, watching the clock hands tick by. He needs to call his wife, needs to hear you reassure him that it was just a fight, that you’ll talk it out and be okay eventually. 

Finally, Kate lets them free a bit after six. John immediately grabs his phone from Laswell’s secretary and frowns at the slur of notifications on his screen, mainly from Gaz. He forgoes reading them, calling him while mentally calculating how fast he could see you.

“Sir, we need you at the bookstore immediately.” It sets off alarms in his head. Why would he be needed there? “What aren’t ya tellin’ me, Garrick?” John finds his driver waiting outside the office and signals to him to get going. “Shepherd got ‘er. The two assistants were his. We’re tryin’ to find her but she’s gone, sir.” John barks at his driver to step on it, then puts the phone back to his ear. You’re gone. You can’t be gone. You’re supposed to be waiting for him at the Castle, brows furrowed why he explains why he really couldn’t take you on that trip. Why you seem to be the person he forgot to search for in a past life, with your unruly snickers and magnificent brain. You’re not supposed to be gone.

John bursts into the half-made store, panting from anger. His people are untying Terrance in the corner, a medic pressing an ice pack against a nasty bump on his head. Kyle’s on the phone, barking orders to someone on the other side. 

Their movements stop when their boss bursts in. Tie half-done, hair wrecked from hands going through it. Flustered. A hundred eyes track him and none are the ones he wants. There’s only one thing on his mind.

“Where is my wife?”

-

Simon shoots out of bed, breathing hard. Johnny’s used to his nightmares, tugging his shoulder to bring him back down. Unlike other nights, his husband stays sitting up. It’s enough to raise an alarm.

“Bad dream, lamb?” Moonlight traces Simon’s scars reverently, turning them into rivers of silver. Sometimes it hurts to look at him for too long, but Johnny wills himself to focus. “Somethin’s wrong.” Simon murmurs. He reaches for his phone and dials someone. Johnny can guess who. The call goes to voicemail at the first ring. “Ye ken she’s on do not disturb.” Simon calls again and while usually it would go through on DND, it cuts short again. While he tries for another call, Johnny turns to grab his own phone, calling the man he loathes.

“Garrick.” He sounds angry and out of breath, unusual at this late hour. “Ghost is wonderin’ where his sister is. The lass’s phone isnae workin’.” Instead of biting out a sharp comment, Garrick takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself. Johnny sits up on instinct, putting the phone on speaker and preparing himself for the worst. “She’s been kidnapped.” Johnny goes to speak but Simon covers his mouth, shaking his head. “I was about to call y’. Shepherd’s men took ‘er at the shop. Two were workin’ on the inside and slipped through. We don’t know-“ Simon snatches the phone and barks out a reply. “We’ll see you in 2 hours. Fuckin’ find ‘er Garrick.” He hangs up and the men get ready robotically, grabbing their respective guns before calling the pilot. Before they head to the helipad, Johnny grabs his husband’s neck and brings his forehead to his own. “We’ll find ‘er.” Simon nods and that’s that. There’s no other option.

-

“An’ here’s the security code f’r the guns.” Simon gestures to the passcode locks on the hundreds of secure cases. “And I need to know this because…?” Your brother sighs, then peeks down to check something on his iPad. “In case Price forgets. In case ya need to launch a coup. In case you wan’ a new weapon. Take your pick, kid.” You punch his arm, then crowd the tablet so you can memorize the code. Only Simon, Johnny, Price, and now you know this code. Not even Price’s head of security. You leave for wedding preparations tomorrow, and instead of watching Sex and the City reruns with Si, he’s forcing you to train like a military recruit. Running you through security codes, showing you how the weapons transfer will work between him and Price. He’s always let you shadow his work but this is different, a new responsibility on your shoulders. 

You know it took a lot for him to allow this. Your brother distrusts everyone, like he believes he’ll be betrayed every morning. “Thanks for showing me this, Si.” You murmur, trusting eyes meeting his. The basement of your mansion, where the weapons are stored, is cool and sterile. An opposing force to the figure of your brother, warm and painted in nostalgia that you’re already trying to not think about. “Can’t have ya in the dark, love. Now tell me the code again.”

“I don’t know the codes.”

Phil glares at you. His personality is so at odds with the assistant you trained in your store. Gone is the happy-go-lucky Southerner that you knew would charm all types of clientele. In his place is a stone-faced man tasked with extracting every single one of your secrets. What a waste of time. You might not be your brother, but at the end of the day, you’re a Riley through and through.

“You’re askin’ me to believe that the Ghost didn’t give his sister the codes to the weapons he was sellin’ her for?” You shrug, unaffected. “Like you said, he sold me. I was more concerned with that than learning how his weapons worked.” He frowns, hands flexing in his pockets. “That don’t make ya feel bad? Gettin’ sold like a cow?” You snort at the comparison. “At least cows get slaughtered. I’m in purgatory in this never-ending marriage with John.” Phil comes closer. He switches from standing to squatting on his haunches, his eyes a little under yours. You wonder why he wants the codes. Does this mean John’s security holdings are compromised? The cases were designed by Johnny himself, impervious to any sort of hacking software.

“From what I saw in the store, you seemed pretty in love.” You shrug again. The best lies, you’ve found, are woven with a thread of truth. “He’s hot. We fuck. Don’t tell me you can’t separate love from lust?” Phil doesn’t say anything. He wants you to keep talking in the uncomfortable silence, but you won’t give in. The shade of his eyes are all wrong, too light. You prefer blue eyes dark and possessive, gripping you in their stare.

After a few seconds, he breaks the staring contest, looking down at the floor. “If you don’t have the codes, you’re not of much worth to us.” You shrug again, willing your hands not to shake. “Then I guess you’ll have to get rid of me.” When he looks back at you, there’s an unnerving grin on his face. “Nah. You know them, I’m sure. We’ll just have to use other methods.”

-

“Favorite takeaway cuisine?”

“Indian. You?”

“Thai. Love me some yellow chicken curry.”

John doesn’t know what that is, so he stays silent. You drop your spoon in your cereal, eyebrows strung together in disbelief. “You’ve never had Thai?” It’s almost a shriek. He’d laugh if he wasn’t sure you’d fling milk at him. “Gaz’s allergic to tofu an’ real superstitious about it. Thinks it’s in the curry even if we get meat.” You bark out a laugh. He’s so glad he didn’t have any morning meetings today. It’s a rare weekday breakfast together and he’s enjoying the get-to-know-you questions you’re flinging his way. 

“Childhood pets?”

“One dog. Got forced to turn him out to the street when I was eleven.” Instead of answering the question, you frown with a pout. “That’s so cruel.” He nods, flicking his eyes away so he doesn’t have to see the pity in them. “My father was a cruel man. Didn’t like things tha’ made a mess, includin’ pets. Or his son.” When he looks back, though, it’s not pity in your eyes. It’s understanding. There’s a new bond of solidarity between you, formed by men that weren’t supposed to become fathers. “I think you’d be a good father, John.” He shrugs, grabbing your free hand on the table and stroking your knuckles.

“Know I’ve got to be one, but not the most excited about it.” It’s a confession he’s never told anyone. He knows he can be a good father, a good leader, but there’s never been that need inside of him to create new life. The way he lives is not good for children. He can imagine it in another life, packing school lunches and doing pickup, but it feels so limited in this one. Restrained to the house, no playdates or public swimming lessons. Anything is too dangerous for someone with his name.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You murmur in a serious tone not meant for the morning. He squeezes your hand before meeting your eyes, wet with unspoken emotion. “I know how to be a good mom, but I don’t really want to be one.” His stomach drops. He’s never heard someone say it so resolutely as him. “Why’s tha’?” He croaks out. “This life…it would be like an animal breeding in captivity. They never get to experience the joys of the wilderness. They’re restricted to the four walls around them. I’d become a captive too, never my own person again. Mother first. I respect others who do it but I just…dread it.” This time, it’s John nodding in understanding. He pulls his chair closer to yours until your legs tangle under the table like a secret.

“What if we didn’t have kids?” You whisper. He shakes his head regretfully. “I need an heir, sweetheart. If I don’t have one, there’d be mutiny.” You bite your lip in concentration and he’s entranced by it. The push of your teeth against the plumpness of your skin is magic. “What if we adopted?” Again, he shakes his head. He’s thought about that avenue too many times to count. “Can’t willingly bring a kid that’s not even mine into this shit.” This time it’s you shaking your head, moving closer until you’re practically in his lap.

“Unofficial adoption. Someone that’s past 18.” It takes a second to register. You both say the same name at the same time: “Gaz.” It’s not unheard of, passing to a non-biological heir. Mainly when the couple has problems with fertility. Usually, the new heir would change their last name for the sake of tradition. You push out of your chair and plop down on his thigh, hands running through his beard in that way that grounds him. “We could tell them I’m infertile.” He hums thoughtfully. “Maybe invent a miscarriage to really get that pity.” You move to his thick head of hair, massaging his scalp. “Wait two years to make it look like we really tried. Announce it on our wedding anniversary for full effect.” You kiss the tip of his nose. A goddess in his lap and you want him. He still can’t believe it.

“Would he want it?” John rarely asks questions, but this one is important. You nod immediately, self-assured. “He loves you like a father, John. I think he’d protest, but eventually say yes.” John captures your lips in a kiss, rough and fast. He pulls away, leaving a string of saliva between you. “I’d get a vasectomy. I’m not fuckin’ you with a condom the rest of my life.” Your eyes flare and he suddenly worries he said the wrong thing. “The rest of your life?” He nods, squeezing your hip. “If you’ll have me.” You grin and it’s the start of his demise.

-

i know this is a little shorter than usual but the kidnapping will be multiple chapters so pls stick with me :) im hoping to finish by the end of feburary but tbd. also taglist is full so she's closed sorry about that!

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

@mismatchsposts

@nova-willow-541

@throwing-up-butterflies

@grossitsluca

@evans-dejong

@popcornlauncher

@earthcole

@backfromthedeadhehehe

@baduzzxy

@thegreyjoyed

@cutelibrariangf

@dearghostling

@mrsmalfoy1005

@all-by-myself98

@snburntandsad

@baklovers

@rmikaelson01

@leon-thot-kennedy

@the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned

@barcelonaaababe

@brokenandemptyhearts

@sleep101

@ontopofthefridge

@lilynotdilly

@teenagellamaangel

@harperdoodle

@ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

@violetisheresworld

@lolwey

@polyfandom-blogs 

@burrowedinnature77

@sharkerino

@ashy-kit

@aikojwhpa

@thriving-n-jiving

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@grayskel

@rpgsandstuff

@hisuccubus

@lumi-kalyke

@gimmeabreak1

[sai-int]

You keep talking about douchebag Simon, so I keep thinking about douchebag Simon, and now I wanna get back at him. Here's my thoughts:

This time you're actually done with his bullshit. He's taken you to yours, fucked you seven ways to Sunday, and left before you even fell asleep, again. You know you could help, could give him everything he doesn't have, but goddamn, there's only so many times one can offer before the other party makes it clear that they don't want help. Simon doesn't want help.

He's just been dragging you along on a string, and now that you've cut it, you want revenge. Definitely not partially to make him jealous so he would long for you like you have for him. However, Simon hasn't told you anything about family or friends, so it's not like you could just go and fuck his dad, but some basic reconnaissance should get results.

It doesn't take but a few batted eyelashes, payments for drinks, and some bullshit story about a surprise for Simon to get the other regulars at the shitty bar Simon frequents to talk. He comes every so often with friends, each with an odd nickname. However, the one that piques your interest is one that's occasionally referred to as 'Captain". Simon does have the military look about him, with all those scars and the way he carries himself, so you assume that his Captain will be the next best thing to a metaphorical father.

You learn that his name is John Price, a perfectly average name, common in all aspects, and get a description of him, tall, bearded, built bloke. Not so average. You bribe the bartender to call you next time he's in and steal him away for a few moments after. You would wait around at the dive yourself, but you'd rather avoid Simon because you don't want to fall into old habits don't want to see his stupid face.

A few weeks later, you get the call. You look in the mirror to make sure your makeup is good enough and you throw on the best outfit you can given the time constraint. It doesn't take long to get to that bar and you make your way behind the building to meet with John Price and avoid the prying eyes of your ex(?) situationship.

The hard gaze and tense posture of the large man fall once he gets a good look at you. You're not a hostile that somehow got their location. You're just a little bird (regardless of weight or height, you're little to Price). Maybe you have a thing for large men who could kill you with one finger, because this man is certainly doing it for you. "John Price?"

"Tha's me." John is surprised you know his name at all. He certainly would've remembered you if you had met before. You must be a clever little thing.

Now, you are inherently a bleeding heart, and as much as Simon hurt you, you can't bring yourself to bring someone else into this shitty situation blind, so you explain the whole situation with him, hoping that for some reason he will help and not rat on you. The plan of course is to pretend to have a one night stand with the captain then pretend to fall in love and date for a bit. Just long enough to rub it in Simon's face that you bagged his commanding officer.

John seems entirely amused. Normally he wouldn't dream of going behind his mens' backs like this, especially not Simon who's been a loyal dog for years now, but he clearly has something to learn if he's breaking the heart of this sweet, whip-smart bird like he is, and said bird just offered a perfect learning opportunity. John never misses the chance to better his men after all, and if he can keep this bird coming back to his windowsill to sing to him, (As he doesn't want to cage the poor thing, that would be just as cruel as breaking her) then that's all the better.

Anyways that's what my brain said, you can do with this as you please. ^-^

holy shit, i don't even think I could put it better than this, but here's my portrayal!!

cw : none, douchebag!simon, simon's a brat, but john's a man

you knew this moment would come.

you spent weeks laying the groundwork, learning the ins and outs of simon’s world. the places he haunted, the people he trusted, the patterns of his life. and now, after all the work, after all the nights spent staring at your ceiling, seething over the way he’s used you.

time to make him feel it. really feel it.

because you were done. done letting him take and take and leave you empty—well, not necessarily empty, he's pumped you full of his seed more times than you could count on both hands. you're done waiting for a man who had already made it crystal fucking clear he was never going to let you in.

and what better way to drive the knife than with the one man he actually respects.

john price. his beloved captain. his commanding officer.

you had expected price to shoot you down the second you'd cornered him in the team's usual haunt and suggested your plan, to wave you off like a foolish girl playing a game she couldn’t win. instead, he just leaned back, took a slow sip of his drink, and smirked.

"he needs a lesson," he’d said, amused. "and you need a bit of fun."

john was impressed, to say the least. you managed to not only pin down when he was going to be at the pub, but also put a name to a face? clever girl, you are. gorgeous one too, and that wasn't lost on him.

which is how you find yourself here, pressed close to john price in the same exact pub, not 3 days later, looking like you belong at his side.

simon had wandered into the pub a while ago, but he had just sat at the bar, not noticing the pair cuddled up in a booth in the far corner of the bar. eventually, though, his eyes wander. bored, in his head probably. then they bulge as they land on his captain and his bird. his big, tender paws are all over you. he makes you laugh, a sound that makes simon's heart twist in a way he tried to ignore. he wipes the stray drops of your drink from your lip with the pad of his thumb.

the weight of simon's gaze is suffocating, burning a hole straight through you, scorching from across the bar. it should make you falter, should make you hesitate, but you refuse to give him that satisfaction.

instead, you lean in closer to price, one hand resting lightly on his forearm, the motion deliberate and obvious.

price plays his part so well, you'd think he was being genuine.

"hope you don’t mind me stealing your attention for a bit," you murmur, just loud enough for simon to hear, voice dripping with amusement.

price tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with something dangerous as he brushes your hair back. "not at all, love," he says easily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "was starting to think i wouldn’t see you again."

you just coyly smile at price, kneading his thick forearms as if to say 'you're so strong'. "you can see me whenever you want, John, you know i'm yours."

price hums, gaze flicking toward simon before settling back on you. "so," he muses, voice a deep, rolling thing, "you never did answer my question, doll."

you blink up at him, lips parting slightly. "what question?"

he smirks.

"this one,"

then he leans in, close, slow, one hand settling high on your thigh as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth.

not a full kiss. just a taste. just tender enough to get your stomach fluttering.

and that’s when you hear it.

the screech of simon’s chair against the hardwood. the slam of his glass onto the bar counter.

then, low and guttural. he's seething.

"the fuck do y'think your doin?"

the tension in the room shifts, like a current crackling through the air. you feel the heat of simon’s anger, the barely-contained rage simmering just beneath his skin.

but you don’t turn, you occupy yourself with your drink, letting price answer first.

"something wrong, mate?" he asks, tilting his head, voice the perfect picture of calm

simon clears his throat, hand waving awkwardly as he tries to find the words. "that's my girl."

price just lifts a brow. "thought you weren’t interested, riley."

simon scoffs, low and sharp. "you tell me, captain," the title drips from his lips like venom. "didn’t think y'were in the business of pickin’ up my fuckin’ scraps."

you don’t flinch. you don’t even blink. you just exhale, slow and measured, before turning your head to meet his glare

"funny," you say, tilting your chin up. "didn’t realize you thought so highly of yourself"

simon’s nostrils flare. his eyes flick to price’s hand still resting on your thigh, his fingers twitch like he’s dying to rip it away

"y'slummin' it, cap?" simon mutters, but there’s a crack in his voice, a tightness to it, something that tells you this is getting to him.

price just hums, completely unbothered as he throws his arm around you. "nah," he says, tucking you into his side and planting a kiss to your temple. "just doin’ what you couldn’t,"

simon goes still.

"or wouldn't."

his fingers curl into fists, his jaw tics, and for the first time since you met him, he doesn’t have anything to say.

the silence stretches. you watch his chest rise and fall, the way his eyes flick between you and price like he’s trying to make sense of this, like he’s looking for the part where it’s just a game.

you see the moment he begins to believe it isn't, the way his shoulders tense, the way his lips part just slightly before they press into a tight, thin line

and then, just as you knew he would, he breaks. he turns on his heel, returning to the bar and downing his drink.

price exhales beside you, slow and knowing, before finishing off his drink.

"well," he mutters, "that was easier than i thought"

you hum, tipping your own glass back before setting it down with a soft clink

"you were right," you murmur, stretching, letting price’s arm fall from your shoulders to rest against the small of your back. "he’s not gonna forget this."

price lets out a low chuckle, and it feels like honey dripping down your spine. he presses his palm just a little firmer against you as he leans down, voice dropping just for you.

"no," he agrees, smirking. "especially not when he realizes i’m keepin’ you."

your breath catches slightly, just for a second, but price notices, his smirk turning softer, more certain

"didn’t think you were mine to take," he continues, thumb brushing the hinge of your jaw, "but now?" he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuck, sweetheart. i’d be a fool to let you slip away now."

and when he takes your hand and leads you out of the bar, the weight of simon’s absence is nothing compared to the warmth of price’s touch.

douchebag!simon mlist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

 book 7 chapter 12 part 3 thoughts!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 12 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** This spans part 269 to part 294, focusing on Riddle.

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

They land in a new location! New assets and everything. Trey identifies it as Crimson City in the Queendom of Roses.

This update opens with Silver showing the first signs of fatigue. (He audibly sighs; Ortho shows concern.) Silver insists he is fine but advises they avoid battles.

Cater laughs at Trey’s expense. He has never heard him scream so loud!! They should go to an amusement park in the waking world together. This is ironic xhsnsvekakw because these two technically did go to Playful Land together 😂

Trey begins to worry about where his glasses have gone. Apparently they fell off while they were hopping to Riddle’s dream. Idia says searching for lost items in a dream can be difficult but Trey would have perfect vision if he thinks hard enough about it. (Me, sitting here: this is a dream. Can you not literally just conjure up a new pair by imagining it.) Trey’s vision is so bad (he’s squinting just to see people’s faces) and he’s had glasses since preschool, so it’s hard for him to do that.

Ortho suggests using S.T.Y.X. tech and data to make Trey new glasses. But then Ace interrupts and announces he snagged Trey’s glasses. He saw them while falling and brought them to himself using magic; they aren’t damaged. The others, even Leona, praise him. (… but I don’t, because what is this time wasting nonsense 😭 MOVE ON ALREADY…) For a first year, his magic control is very good. Is it because he’s dexterous from basketball?

In exchange for saving the glasses, Ace asks for a cherry pie at the next unbirthday party.

LMAO apparently Ace got to practice using magic precisely because of being in Heartslabyul. Changing the color of the roses + other unbirthday party prep is done with magic. Ace also quickly learned how to clean up using magic to avoid Riddle’s wrath when the dorm leader patrols.

UHHHHH a police car starts chasing them?? It stops and a policeman exits, pulling… R rIDDLE?????!!??!?!?!

THE HE c K Is tHIS… CAtER MiSTAKES HIM FOR a CUTE giRL OR A MAGICAM INFLUENCER (IN thE FULL bODY MODEL YOU CAN SEE FisHNETS ON HIS leGS)

He calls the police officer an “old man” and speaks in a different cadence than usual. Higher pitched and more childlike. UHHHHH RIDDLE USES RUDE SLANG TOO… It’s not slang I understand; Adeuce identify it as exclusive to the Queendom of Roses

Errrrrrr, so Riddle was arrested for singing in the streets. He says he doesn’t see why people have to follow the rules 😱

Ah, Chenya’s in this dream!! He was in the cop car as well.

vdkabsjsvsusbkxks OH MY GOD Trey’s sounding like a concerned father 👨 Riddle spots Trey and gets all excited; the animation of the live 2D models also implies Riddle is grabbing and clinging to Trey’s arm.

Riddle and Chenya got arrested for starting a “surprise live” in front of the police station. (A “surprise live” is a spontaneous musical performance done in the streets or in public; they’re common in Japan.) They’re in a 2-man band! Riddle is the vocals and Chenya plays bass. It’s hard to keep members because Riddle keeps changing what kind of music they play. He says it’s boring to play the same thing every day.

Riddle doesn’t recognize everyone else so they reintroduce themselves. xhdvsjwbwkw Leona is smart enough to just call himself by first name; the last name might have given away that he’s royalty. (Typically, giving only your first name is a sign of familiarity or casualness in Japanese culture, but I don’t think that was the intention here.)

Riddle asks them to play with him in his band. H needs a guitarist, drummer, and keyboard player! Backup dancers and composers are also welcome, but even if not experienced.

Cater coming in clutch again… He volunteers to play guitar and changes into his Pop/Light Music Club uniform.

THIS iS SO WEIRD… Riddle calls Cater “Cay-kun” and “nii-san” 💀 Cater is freaked out by this too, even though he told Riddle earlier it was okay to call him “Cay-kun”.

Cater lies and says everyone else with him is skilled at playing too. For example, Leona is as good as a professional at drumming!! Leona starts to protest but Cater shuts him up. They need to do this to investigate 🎵 I continue to be baffled at how active Cater is in this dream and the last two. Holy hell, leave some crumbs for the rest of us…

DROPS TO KNEES AnD WEE PS OTL LEONA CHSnges tO HIS DIRM unIFORM AnD DAYS SoME CORNh shIT AbOUT HoW hEmMa SkILLED At DRUMS (lying bitch) THERe’A SpArKLE EFFDcts AnD EVERYTHING

Adeuce and Grim bring up their VDC experience (+ how Rook gave them 100 points in beauty)! Ortho volunteers his synthesizing abilities. He also can do lighting and video production. Sebek has been playing violin since he was little because he admires Malleus (erm, though Harveston Sledathon showed us Sebek sucks at playing it sooooo—). Silver says his farther showed him how to play the ocarina.

Riddle is so excited to have so many different people joining him. No matter how many times he invites Trey, he doesn’t join the band. Cater teases Trey and says his singing for their dorm’s events isn’t bad.

Riddle suddenly invites everyone to his house for tea?! This alarms Trey, but Riddle insists his mom will be happy to see him.

Trey worries the strawberry tart he brought with him from his own dream will get them in trouble. Cater and Grim offer to eat it in case of emergency!

L ch avajGqian SRBRk 😭 He says Riddle’s mom can’f be anywhere near as fierce as Malleus’s mom…

Leona starts to say something but doesn’t finish the thought.

Aaaand here we are at the Rosehearts residence!! Look at all the family photos. (This is not what the home looks like irl; there aren’t this many photographs, probably because Riddle implies that his parents don’t have a happy marriage 😢)

WhAT YhD fuKKKJKKk

Riddle’s mom speaks in a much higher pitched voice and sounds so caring. (We don’t get to see her; it’s just a voice since she’s speaking from the kitchen.) She calls him “Riddle-chan” and is happy he brought so many friends.

Chenya notices the strawberry tart Trey brought in. Grim tries to eat it but Riddle explodes on him, saying that it is HIS. Riddle’s mom is okay with this 💀 and Riddle confesses he has tarts twice a week, even when it is not his birthday.

Riddle goes to have his mom slice the tart up. As soon as he leaves, Trey releases a HUGE breath. He was so nervous about Mrs. Rosehearts losing her temper. Ortho senses his vitals shooting through the roof and recommends he sits down.

They start looking at the photos on the wall. Oh, Riddle’s dad is there too. Ace comments that the focus of the pictures if Riddle while the parents’ faces are blurry. (Is it because Riddle cannot imagine what his parents’ happy faces look like 😭) One of the pics is 6th grade sports day (an egg balancing on a spoon race), another is them swimming, Halloween, etc. Riddle was able to have a happy childhood with Chenya and Trey; their families hang out too.

Lore about family photos time?? Cater’s sisters and mom of course love to take them. Ace’s mom shows baby photos in the house. Sebek’s dad wants to take pictures more than his mom does. Deuce’s mom uses her phone. He has the framed photos in the closet in his rebellious phrase but wants to take them out when he wakes up. Lilia has an instant camera and uses it to take pictures once a year on Silver’s birthday. The Shroud parents have family photos at their work desks. Ortho regularly sends them photos and videos of school events.

Leona’s special cuz he’s a ✨ prince ✨ A newspaper has a photographer assigned to the royal family. He’d take pics without permission and the public relations officer had to confiscate them. Leona naturally hates family reunions that are arranged just to enhance their image. They’re not fun and people just pretend to be friendly.

dbjsbsjwjens Leona doesn’t really have photos of himself when he was young but his mom and Kifaji would take casual pics. He hates when he gets pestered for photos… like his Ceremonial Robes vignettes! Apparently they want the pictures to decorate the private dining room, Mr. Kingscholar’s hospital room, etc.

Ummmmmmmmmmm… Trey ain’t lookin’ so hot…

He says he has no memories of what is in these photographs. He + Chenya only played with Riddle for a month or two before the tart incident, and Riddle went to a private school whereas he + Chenya were public.

Riddle drops 5 sugar cubes into black tea, plus plenty of milk and honey. Leona makes a snide remark about how it’s rude for the host to not take the guest’s preferences into consideration to serve them OTL (you’re so right, king—)

Riddle offers everyone a chiffon cake and butter cookies his mom made. But… hm? That’s weird. They taste strangely hard and aren’t very sweet. Trey automatically identifies the ingredients; they must be the healthy ingredients Mrs. Rosehearts actually uses irl, because Riddle’s imagination is pulling from memories of his mom’s cooking.

Chenya can use magic but… Riddle can’t?! His dad is a novelist who writes stories with his son as the protagonist and his mom is a housewife full time. Neither can use magic.

Riddle becomes upset that they’re whispering to each other. They should speak up at his tea party!!

HUHHHHHHHH Riddle says be didn’t go to school?????? And he hates studying?! Deuce shouts that he uses to hate school and studying, but at NRC his dorm leader and the teachers taught him well. dhsvsjjww Riddle hates books without illustrations, but Sebek counters that there are books that will suit his taste.

Riddle doesn’t want to read??? His dad will tell him stories orally while Riddle plays with toys. And he works from home, so Riddle can ask him whatever he wants whenever he wants.

Cater brings up play croquet at their dorm.

Uuuh Riddle becomes fed up with the topic and demands it be changed. No problemo, cuz Ace was gonna talk off the cuff anyway. People start to consider leaving the band due to Riddle’s inability to read the room and his lack of ambition.

Riddle gets mad and starts raging. In seeps the darkness. We try to leave but Riddle prevents them. The entire room they’re in becomes like… locked? So they cannot leave.

A simple color palette swap makes this look like a scene straight out of a horror game.

A bunch of tea rushes in from another room and everyone works together to close it. They dream form change out of their tea-Soaked clothing.

They deduce that the room itself is the NPC and it must have been pretending to speak in Riddle’s parents’ voices since no one ever saw them. The room where Riddle’s dad works produces a flood of manuscripts, whereas the kitchen is a torrent of black tea. Suddenly, a hand emerges from the tea…! IT’S RIDDLE’S MOM TRYING To DrAg ThEM IN

They hear humming and Chenya appears! Leona threatens to turn the house to sand BUT HE GETS COLLARED 💀 Trey tries to overwrite the collar with his own UM but gets collared too. “Anyone that tries to escape the house will be beheaded”, according to the dreamer’s will.

It’s hard for them to locate Riddle; the space keeps twisting and turning and the magic formula governing it keeps rewriting itself.

ERRRRRR the black tea in the room is increasing even if nothing is gushing in from the kitchen anymore… This truly is one big horror movie now OTL

They try to climb onto/into stuff to keep afloat. Then we hear someone crying… Riddle? His tears are what’s filling up the room. He says, “I want to get out…” UM???? Of your living situation????? (Not me laughing around Leona saying in his most insincere voice “We’ll help you, so show yourself”…)

Leona compares Riddle to a rose with thorns, hurting people indiscriminately. (Okay, oddly poetic when you’re on the brink of death but sure, pop off)

Trey begs dream!Chenya to please show them the way to Riddle. The other card soldiers speak up and talk about how strong and admirable of a leader Riddle is. Finally, Chenya agrees to show them a shortcut.

ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

We cut away to Idia’s dream?? He is preparing hacks and such for the final battle against Malleus. But um?? Is struggling to reconnect to Ortho and the others to provide support.

Suddenly, knocking at his door! Idia wonders if it is S.T.Y.X. staff???? UH-OH IT’S MALLEUS AND HE DEMANDS TO BE LET IN (he realizes Idia is awake)

We don’t get to see what happens to Idia; we cut back to the second layer of Riddle’s dream. It’s a ruined rose garden…

Ortho realizes the connection to Idia was dropped…

Riddle is berating some mobs (rule 372: if a red mushroom grows, the roses must be white). He has dream!Adeuce send them off to a punishment room where they have to write down rules 300 to 500.

Dream!Cater overhears some mobs whining. He and dream!Trey remind everyone Riddle is always correct and they should salute and follow him. Riddle has an evil laugh… and then has a smile as he says his mother was right all along.

Seeing this, Trey wonders if this is the future that would have happened if he didn’t get “lucky” and overwrite Riddle’s magic that one time.

Oh???? Silver says his father told him magic originally was a miracle birthed from a strong desire in the heart. He says that it was, then, no mistake that Trey’s Paint the Roses trumped Riddle’s magic. It was Trey’s own strong desire to stop Riddle that allowed him to turn the rose bushes into playing cards.

Chenya reappears and offers to show us more. He sneaks over, pulls on Riddle’s cloak, and makes him fall over?! Which pisses him off, obviously.

Riddle blows away the bushes we’re using to hide and is shocked to see doubles of his students. Leona gets fed up and confronts Riddle about how this is all a dream.

LMAOvvvvvsnbabzgajavaowkw Dream!Trey tells Riddle to not listen to Leona… LEONA IS A CORRUPTING FORCE AND A BAD INFLUENCE 💀 I want to argue, but… he sort of has a point…

Riddle commands we be captured and taken to the punishment room too. The mobs start to praise Riddle for everything he has done for them, including (for some reason) lowering their tension and giving them a reason to live????

Leona tells Riddle’s it’s empty and meaningless to be cheered on by an illusion. But Riddle insists he is happy this way. THIS IS SAD, he’s equating fear, respect, and love… What the fuck does this say about his own feelings towards his mother??

A bunch of Heartslabyul students descend on them. Without help from Idia, we can’t defend!! We tear off into smaller groups and run into the rose maze.

This is fr so sick and twisted 💀 Riddle is starting to wake, but dream!Cater and Trey tell him not to think of painful things. If he wakes up, everyone will hate him and he will be alone again—and Riddle doesn’t want that, right? So Riddle agrees, no one should be able to leave the world of dreams.

Okay so group 1 is Yuu, Grim, Sebek, and Ace. Group 2 is Leona and Deuce. Group 3 is Silver and Cater. Group 4 is Trey and Ortho.

Their phones don’t work so they cannot text or call each other.

Rule 63 is this: those who upset the queen in her court will be chased in the rose maze by card soldiers. If you try to climb or jump over the trees, they will attack you. In Diasomnia, there are thorns under the drawbridge that have a similar protective function. Though now, Malleus has a protective barrier around the dorm.

They hear Deuce calling out to them and Ace is suspicious. He tells Sebek, Yuu, and Grim to be quiet and let him handle this.

Ace goes up to Deuce and “reveals” himself to be darkness. Deuce is relieved and reveals himself to be darkness too. Ace, pretending to be darkness, tries to convince dream!Deuce that the real Deuce and Leona went “this way”. Unfortunately, Sebek concludes Ace was actually darkness and intended to betray us. So Grim breathes fire, melting away the wax (?) Ace was using to disguise himself as darkness and he realizes their mistake.

dbsjbsjw THERE’S a SiLLY TRUMPET SfX TO suMMON THE oTHER CARD sOLDIERS

They beat back dream!Deuce, but now too many soldiers are swarming them. Sebek accepts the onus for not trusting Ace and jumping to conclusions; he uses Living Bolt to clear a way for Yuu, Ace, and Grim to run away while he stays behind.

Now let’s bounce to Leona and Deuce! dgshevkw Deuce thought he was with Ace, Yuu, and Grim… but nah, it’s Leona! Leona tried to run off by himself, like in the opposite direction of the loudmouth Sebek www Instead he’s stuck with Deuce…

LEONA syING hE’S GONNA SMSvk RIDDLE

Omg Vargas Camp canon to main story??? Deuce talks about a sports club camping trip to the mountains led by Vargas.

Ace shows up acting relieved he found Deuce and Leona. REALLY starts glazing Leona up too, talking about how strong he is and how he could easily overpower Riddle if they act as bait. Deuce becomes suspicious because Ace wouldn’t say stuff like that, even if he thought it. He demands to know what Ace’s dream was—but Ace cannot answer, so Deuce knows this must be darkness?

Leona tells Deuce he will turn some bushes to sand; he should sprint through them quickly.

nuuuUquUUYYR hE CALLS bdeuCE A GOOD BOyYYYTG OTL (like, loyal dog/follower of his dorm) AnD HE DIESNmF DiSLIKE THAT OTL

Leona claims to be a kind prince LOL uhhh he does The Plan and Deuce escapes! Leona is left behind to fight off dream!Ace and his heart suit goons.

Silver and Cater run into what I assume is dream!Trey. Cater wants he and Trey (who are familiar with the ever-changing maze) to split up and search for the first years, but dream!Trey wants to stick together.

Cater asks Silver if he ever gets tired of fighting the darkness. How does he do it?? Silver confesses he almost gave into it many times but his friends were always there to pull him out of it.

Oh, Cater’s dad has been transferred for his job less as of late, so now he is able to have more long term relationships. Cater also reveals he used to room with Trey prior to third year (where they have separate rooms).

Lore drop, Heartslabyul is the second oldest dorm.

Cater tells a story about how he pitched the idea of transferring to Scarabia with Trey, which dream!Trey agrees with. Turns out, it was a bait laid out by Cater to test of this Trey was real—and dream!Trey fell for it! He admits that he started to suspect Trey was fake when Trey wanted to stay together rather than split up. Trey, who is an older brother, would always prioritize the safety of the first years!

AHHHHHH they’re being overwhelmed and they’re running short on magic :<

Last group to check in with is Trey and Ortho…! Trey shares more about the plants in the garden. They’re magical and must be grown by hand. Some of the plants move if you command them to, bur some others are stubborn. In spring, they have a concert with the flowers. Ortho says the trees in Pomefiore are raised similarly to the Heartslabyul plants.

OKAY SO. Pomefiore is the oldest dorm, then Heartslabyul, THEN Diasomnia. This all but confirms a fan theory that the age of the dorms corresponds with each dorm's irl film inspiration release date. From oldest to youngest, that would be

Pomefiore- 1937

Heartslabyul- 1951

Diasomnia- 1959

Octavinelle- 1989

Scarabia- 1992

Savanaclaw- 1994

Ignihyde- 1997

Aaaaah here comes the dream!Cater. He claims he escaped alone.

Trey discusses Cater’s magic and how it’s like casting 2-3 spells at once since Cater has to use magic to manipulate each clone. Thus, the power level of Cater and his clones goes down. Meanwhile Riddle’s UM can impact multiple people at once and he can spellcast quickly.

HUUUUH Cater applied to duel Riddle not too long before his third year? Wait no, that’s a lie Trey came up with to entrap dream!Cater! Trey knew it must be a fake because he doesn’t see Cater as the kind of guy to leave others behind and escape to safety on his own.

Trey tells Ortho to escape without him…!

That leaves us with only Adeuce, Ortho, Grim, and Yuu able to escape. They regroup and find their captured allies tied to rose trees. Trey begs Riddle to wake up.

Deuce suggests to use his UM to defeat Riddle, and Ortho volunteers to be Deuce’s shield (~10 seconds) while he aims, since Riddle’s UM does not work on Ortho.

Rare moment of development for Yuu??? They have dialogue options and can express that they feel useless, constantly being protected and not able to help.

Ortho asks us to protect Idia’s tablet. And Ace is entrusted to protect Yuu and Grim!

dbjsnsksks Deuce’s plan doesn’t really work out. Riddle starts spamming spells that throw Ortho off; Deuce can’t get his aim quite right.

Grim tries to scamper out to fight but Ace holds him back. Ace becomes increasingly frustrated that he keeps being protected by others (Sebek, Deuce, Ortho) and can’t do anything to help.

AhHHHHHH Ace has his own little depression flashback moment 🥺 calling himself pathetic, lame, useless… unable to save anyone at all. But then words start coming to his head…!! He disrupts Riddle just as he’s able to collar Deuce!

“I’ll take your best/most precious treasure. Joker Snatch…!”

HE COLLARS RIDDLE :000 Deuce uses his UM and shovk Riddle awake… I can’t believe the class 2E boys both got physically beaten into submission 💀

WOW Cater NYOOMS to Riddle and hugs him?!.?:’snwkgelek

Sebek offers to carry Ortho, but Ortho is super heavy.

UHHHH here comes the darkness… Adeuce rush over to help Riddle, even though he commands them to go to someplace safe. (SEBEK CALLS ADEUCE BY THEIR NAMES AND NOT "HUMANS"!!!) Riddle commands Trey and Cater to remove Adeuce and they do as he says; we of course follow after Riddle as he sinks.

Riddle has his moment squaring off against his Phantom. It's quite interesting; his darkness exclaims that he must hang onto the seat because he has nothing else. Everyone loathes him, so he has to do everything he can to cling to power. Riddle calls himself out for the tyrant that he is and expels that darkness.

Rule 1 of the Queen of Hearts: to stay where you are, you must run with all of your might. From now on, Riddle says he will do just that.

He resurfaces in his home and is approached by his mother, who claims he fell asleep while reading about crocodiles in the Nile River? (Wh-Why is the Nile River canon in Twst when that’s a real world location that should not exist in this one...)

Riddle summons his magic and collars his mother, making her melt away into nothing. He gets a really cool line...! "I refuse to stand in front of a door that won't open anymore. Even if the opening is as narrow as a keyhole, I will pry this door open with my own hand and move forward. I will walk forward, on my own path!"

THIS IS REALLY FASCINATING BECAUSE ALL THE WAY BACK IN THE EPISODE OF HEARTSLABYUL MANGA... THEY USED A DOOR AND KEYHOLE IMAGERY TO DEPICT RIDDLE COMING OUT OF HIS OB

Right as Riddle regains his senses, he crashes through the floor of his dream and... somehow lands where Idia is?! He's busy programming.

There seems to he… maybe a reference to Idia’s Bloom Broom vignettes??? Idia’s best subject is Summoning and he seems to have summoned Riddle to him? And Riddle says that he has read Idia’s research papers before; this was also mentioned in said vignettes (Riddle expresses an interest in his papers).

Idia tells Riddle that the Final Boss, Malleus Draconia, is waiting on the other side of his bedroom door...!

THAT'S IT, THAT'S WHERE WE LEAVE OFF???????? WE'RE DEFINITELY NEARING THE END, BOYS...

Okay, so first major thought I had!! Riddle’s dream confirms many of the thoughts I have ha about Trey and his feelings toward Mrs. Rosehearts and his own role in Riddle’s trauma. I have legitimately NEVER heard Trey sounding this panicked or scared, not even when Riddle was about to OB. Trey hurriedly rushes to put away the strawberry tart out of fear, just waiting for Mrs. Rosehearts to start shouting hysterically at him. Ortho even comments about Trey’s vitals rocketing. This definitely reads to me as Trey being traumatized by that whole incident 💦

BIG BRo CATER CONTINUES… Him making up the lie about Leona being a great drummer was so dumb but it worked!! And then he cares so much about Riddle when he finally wakes… would never run off on his own and abandon his friends… 😭 HNNNNGH CATERRRRrrRRRRR WhEN i CmgEFt MY gaNDS ON YOUUUUUuUUU

And holy cow, there was SO much symbolism in Riddle’s dream 😳 dream!Mrs.Rosehearts’s sweets looking good but is insincere and tasting terrible, as opposed to Trey’s tart which looks terrible from the rough travel but is made with care and tastes good… Riddle wishing for a happy family life so his house is crammed with photos… parents that are always emotionally available for him… not having the pressure of being a mage or having a legacy to live up to… the house being a place that locks them inside (because it might feel like a prison to Riddle)... Not just symbolism for Riddle's desires too, but also tons of Alice in Wonderland references!! ASFIHBAYOSFPADFIA I'D WASTE SPACE IN THIS POST LISTING THEM ALL OFF, BUT JUST KNOW THEY'RE THERE AND THEY WERE AMAZING FOR ME TO EAT UP AS AN ALICE IN WONDERLAND STAN

It’s interesting how Chenya here serves as sort of a helpful NPC to us, similar to Kifaji. His actions are a lot more dubious here; he’s not strictly good and spends most of the dream siding with Riddle. Chenya only swaps sides when we convince him. I wonder if he, too, represents some self-aware part of Riddle??? Since Riddle was later shown trying to maintain the dream world even when he learned it was fake.

They tried to recapture the glory of book 6 by having the characters split up. I'm not sure if it worked as well (since each was kind of short and repeated a lot of the same lore about the Heartslabyul rose bushes), but it served its purpose. The best part was definitely how the Heartlabyul students used what they knew of each other to figure out the fakes. It's a very effective but subtle way to show how they've become more familiar with one another. I feel like this update overall was very lore-heavy. We learned new stuff about the dorms' ages, their protective measures, their plants, etc.

It was interesting to have a rare moment of character development for Yuu? They barely get anything in way of characterization, so that surprised me. I wasn't expecting ACE to get his whole Depression Arc in the middle of Riddle's dream either--but I guess whining hard enough works, because he finally FINALLY got his UM!! Still not sure how it works yet. It seems to let him steal/borrow or copy other's UM??? But Sebek describes it as "it seemed like you and Riddle swapped magic". We have to wait for more details to drop in a later update. Can't say I like the name for his UM though; it makes me think of him stealing a clown's wig. ASDULBIADBSPSAB So proud of Ace; with this, we now have the UMs and chants for every one of the NRC students!

Overall, Riddle really surprised me. His dream ended up being roughly THREE TIMES LONGER than the average dream 💀 Not sure if I like that pacing, but at least this was fun to dissect. I like that they seem to have put extra effort into this portion, especially since the game is called Twisted Wonderland. It feels like a homage to the original story, especially since that novel ended with Alice waking up. I loved that Riddle has an inner child that he represses, but that even his desires are "held back" by knowledge he doesn't have... like his parents' happy faces or what his mom's homemade baked goods might taste like. It made me feel for him. ASDIUBASDASBDBPASIqryrqp I kind of feel like a proud parent reading his cool line about finding his own path at the end. It's very different than himself earlier in the dream, ignoring difficult topics and actively denying reality, where he fears he will be left sad and alone OTL Ndhdiwjekw Not sure if I care for his actual childish behavior though… Slightly grating to me.

THE HORROR STYLE PRESENTATION WITH MALLEUS REALLY UNNERVED ME. I would shit bricks if I was Idia too, dang... I'm on the edge of my seat for the next installment. S-Surely book 7 will have to wrap up soon, right? RIGHT?????

[alllovenohate7]

I’d always do anything for her. The one. The hardest thing is not seeing her everyday anymore and being able to talk to them about anything whenever we wanted. Not being able to just get a quick look to refresh the only beautiful thing in life and give me hope. Give me strength. And really just so I can look into her eyes. No words. No physical contact. I just wanted to look at the most stunning green eyes I’ll ever see. Cached in my memories are a perfect soul. Playing on repeat as it begins to rain in this quiet room. A good morning with a goddess’s smile receives a small token of my appreciation for her. I miss giving. I haven’t been able to tell her how beautiful she is. I miss her smile whenever I had a chance to remind her she looked beautiful. I made sure to remind her so she would smile. I never wanted to miss an opportunity or a chance to make her happy and make her smile. She was my first real everlasting crush and it stood firm until I fell. And I fell hard. Because I always had this feeling but now, now I was done. After this one moment that I won’t ever forget she was waking by me. Black boots, jeans, and a sweater following behind her as her hair waved with each step. The lights shining down as it god sent her. I looked at her in such awe as she walked by. As she took each step the feeling grew stronger and stronger. I felt it and I knew right away. I said to myself “wow” and I knew. My heart knew. I grew nervous. Her contagious laugh is so soft and pure, it would get me too. I miss asking, did I tell you how much you mean to me today? I miss being there to lift her up when she was down. I miss helping wipe away the tears of the strongest person I know. Shedding tears of the past I so desperately wanted to help rid of. I miss being supportive when others weren’t and didn’t want to be. I want to always be there when she was down and everything else is wrong. I want to be the one right thing in her life no matter what was going left. I want to keep her right. I want to keep her safe as she made when I was with her. Was I was with her everything feel alright. The sound of her voice could soothe me. It could heal me with just a few words. I miss talking about our future and plans being made to fulfill our dreams. I miss sharing every detail with her. I miss hearing empathy in her voice when she wanted to know if I was okay when if I wasn’t. She could give the strength and I mean strength that brings confidence with it. I want to give her everything she deserves and everything she desires yet leave nothing for myself. I want to be her crutch with her legs felt weak to carry it by herself. I want to take the weight off her shoulders and carry it as my own so she can feel free. Her presence would calm me while her spirit rejuvenated my soul. Did my heart find true love or did I let my guard down after years of healing an old wound. When she wasn’t around I felt empty. Nothing and no one person would ever come before her. There’s never been another name or person for as long I’ve loved her. Ever. The sacred meaning behind faith. I know the pain from this and I’d never do that to someone. It’s incredibly life altering and I don’t think it goes away, the real pain that follows it. I wish she could see herself through my eyes and know what I know. See what I see. And the truth in what she asks or thinks. In that moment though when I knew, I saw the next 50 years of my life and I see it with my best friend. I’d give it all up for her. More than most things in life, I miss exchanging I love you before we departed ways. It’s all I ever needed or had at times. Just to hear sometimes. To hold onto. Those three words that have an incredible meaning we don’t usually talk about. Words. Those few words have a powerful impact. Words have profound meaning and is the basis of all things. Those few words allowed me to know that I was real and that I existed. Just a few words can mean everything.

I’ll always do anything for her.

I love you.

♍️ ♉️ 🐝

[reidsmanuscript]

Profiler, profiled.

Summary: When the past creeps up, more vivid and dangerous than ever, at the same time that the attraction becomes undeniable—and so do the mistakes. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: mutual pinning but painful, angst. wc: 7.3k! TW: Profiler, profiled canons! so Child abuse (implied and discussed), Sexual abuse, Framing/wrongful accusation, Police misconduct, Violence, mentions of traumatic readers' past!, female rage, violent thoughts. not proofread yet A/N: SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE, this is my take on soulmates, thank u for all the feedback/support btw, really mindblowing <3 part I - part II - part III - part IV

　　　　 　　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　　

Something as routine and comforting as traveling to your hometown for your mom’s birthday can go wrong in an instant—sometimes, all it takes is a single moment of doubt. Unfortunately for Derek Morgan, it was the absence of doubt that could become his sentence.

Hotch was notified, as per FBI protocol, that one of his agents had been arrested as a homicide suspect. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Morgan wasn’t capable of something like that—he had been a prosecutor before joining the Academy, after all. As his boss, he refused to believe it. But as his friend, he knew that the smartest move—the one most people failed to make—was calling a lawyer.

The problem? Morgan didn’t have one.

The Bureau’s legal counsel wouldn’t intervene in a case where one of their own was being charged. It had to be someone who knew him, someone who would believe in him.

There was only one person who fit that description.

A.D.A. Woodvale.

So, after issuing an emergency recall for Reid, Prentiss, Jareau, Garcia, and Rossi—Hotch called you.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

One thing some victims, or their families, do after the person who ruined their lives is convicted is express gratitude. Sometimes immensely, sometimes barely—especially when the verdict isn’t what they had hoped for.

Still, they are grateful for your time and commitment to their pain. That’s why some send gifts like baskets filled with fruit, chocolates, candy, or all three combined. 

You were at your desk, late at night, again, reviewing case files and drafting a legal brief, absorbed in the task at hand. The basket with its chocolates, and cookies remained sitting on a chair near the window, quietly out of place among the legal paperwork without any card or name, maybe they forgot to put it or it fell on the way. 

The phone rings, and you answer immediately, announcing yourself. When the voice on the other end speaks your name, you recognize it instantly.

“I’m gonna need your help.” Agent Hotchner.

You straighten your back. “What is it? A warrant? It’s going to be hard at t—”

He cuts you off. “Morgan is in trouble.” That was enough to tell you this wasn’t just any ordinary favor.

You hesitate, cautious. “What happened?”

“He was arrested as a suspect in a homicide in Chicago.” Morgan? Homicide? For a moment, you’re ready to refuse—this isn’t your field. You put people in jail, not get them out. But then you remember—he saved your life over a year ago. And the weight of that debt settles heavily on your shoulders.

“Hotch, I... What do you want me to do? I don’t have connections there. Maybe I could talk to—”

He interrupts again. “He’s going to need a good lawyer. I know this isn’t what you do, but you know him. You know he’s not capable of something like that.” There’s a brief silence as you weigh your options, considering your next move.

"The jet takes off first thing tomorrow morning," he says, giving you an out—leaving the decision in your hands.

You exhale, and resolve settling in. "Send me the details. I’ll be there."

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

As you stepped onto the jet, you spotted Hotch already seated alone. Without hesitation, you slid into the seat across from him, greeting him with a quiet nod, your back turned toward the entrance.

One by one, the rest of the BAU arrived, offering you brief acknowledgments as they settled in. When Reid stepped onto the jet, he barely glanced up—until he caught sight of the back of your head. He hesitated for just a second before moving to a seat diagonal from yours.

Hotch quickly explained that you were joining them to assist Morgan as his defense counsel. The weight of the situation settled over the jet, unspoken but palpable. You noticed it in the way the air felt heavier, in the subtle shifts of the team’s expressions, like how Prentiss shifted in her seat or the way Reid’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Since the Katie Jacobs case, he wouldn’t call it an obsession—that would be an exaggeration, and his mind rejected the idea of something so unscientific, but a fixation? Perhaps. There was something about you that tugged at the edges of his thoughts more often than he liked to admit. His memories of your first meeting were frustratingly blurred, dulled by the lingering fog of withdrawal, but he remembered enough. The way you carried yourself—composed, sharp, unreadable. The precision of your movements, deliberate in a way that suggested control rather than ease. The way your voice stayed measured even when you were angry, like someone who had learned to sharpen their words into weapons rather than waste them on emotion. And your eyes—steady, assessing, like you were always five steps ahead in a game only you could see.

Did you ever place two magnets next to each other and test how close they could be without touching? If they would repel or attract?

Magnets could only get so close before they either locked together or violently repelled each other. If their north poles faced one another—mirrors of the same force—they would push apart, unable to exist in such perfect reflection. But if one turned, aligning its south to the other’s north, the pull would be instant, inevitable.

That was a physicist's way of explaining why, the moment you caught him in the corner of your vision, you noted how his hair was longer than before, tucked behind his ears; how his fingers brushed over the pages of a book, a well-worn paperback pulled from his bag. Crime and Punishment. The same one you had almost mistaken for yours once. North. North.

But now, seeing it again, you wondered—what did he think about Raskolnikov’s theory of extraordinary men? Did he believe true morality could be measured mathematically, the way Raskolnikov tried to justify his crime with cold logic? Or did he see through it, past the numbers, past the equations, past the desperate rationalizations of a man trying to convince himself he was above consequence?

And what would he think about your take on it? That a man was either a fool for failing to control himself or a coward for refusing to own what he had done? Either way you just wanted to know his opinion. North. South.

You were just about to ask him when JJ spoke up. “I don’t understand. Can you even represent Morgan if you’re an A.D.A.? Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?”

It was a fair question, one you had asked yourself last night before finding a loophole.

You let out a slow breath, considering. "Technically, I’m not Morgan’s lawyer—he hasn’t called me personally to represent him. And I wouldn’t be joining you as his defense attorney… officially." You glanced at Hotch. "Prosecutors consult on defense cases all the time—off the record. I’m not filing any motions, I’m not putting my name on anything. I’m just… advising."

Prentiss raised an eyebrow. "Advising?"

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. "I can’t officially defend him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. And the police don't need to know every detail about that."

Hotch gave a small nod. "That keeps you in the clear. No official involvement, no risk to your career."

Reid, who had been silent, finally spoke. "But what happens if they’ve already decided Morgan is guilty?"

Your jaw tightened, but Rossi answers first "Then that’s where we come in. We find out who’s setting Morgan up—and we make sure they don’t get away with it."

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

As you arrived at the police station, you hung back from the group, not wanting to interfere with the BAU’s process. But when Detective Dennison refused to take Hotch to see Morgan, you decided you wouldn’t stand by quietly anymore.

You stepped forward, standing next to Hotch. “Are you going to take us to see Derek Morgan, or not, Detective?”

He glanced at you as though he didn’t understand the urgency. “Detective Gordinski's in with the suspect now”

“Now is when we need to see him.” you shot back.

“Excuse me?” he started to respond, but Hotch cut him off.

“I have your superintendent's personal cell number,” Hotch said calmly. “And, in the interest of not running roughshod over another police agency, I’ve resisted calling him so far. We need to see Agent Morgan now.”

You couldn’t help but think how Hotch was finally getting some work done.

The detective nodded and, after disappearing into a room, came back with another man. Detective Gordinski, you assumed. It was something you were used to, this unspoken assumption that you were a junior, a minor player in the room, because of your age. It happened often when older men met you—defense attorneys, paralegals, specialists, and even police officers. They assumed you were less than you were. Gordinski was no different. When he approached you, he only offered his hand to Hotch.

“Detective Gordinski, CPD,” he said, as if you weren’t standing right there.

Hotch didn’t seem to notice the slight. “You think an FBI agent, a BAU profiler, committed a homicide?”

Gordinski answered with a level of pride that made your stomach turn. “Actually, three homicides at least, over 15 years.”

You heard JJ and Reid protest, both equally shocked by his ridiculous statement. And the way Gordinski spoke, as though the case was already closed, irritated you. “Has he been charged with anything?”

“I’ve got 72 hours for that,” he replied, clearly still lacking sufficient evidence.

“We’d like to see him,” you said, your tone final. He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly agreed as Denninson took you and Hotch to see Morgan.

As you entered the interrogation room, you found him in a sort of trance, staring at a photograph in his hands. When he finally looked up, there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“You okay?” you asked, aware of the detective’s overbearing presence in the room.

Morgan exhaled sharply, turning the photo toward you. “This kid—I was with him yesterday.”

“So?” Hotch prompted.

Morgan shook his head, his voice tight. “So, he’s dead. I drove him home, Hotch, and Gordinski’s saying I was the last person seen with him.” His gaze flickered between the two of you, frustration and disbelief written all over his face.

You didn’t need to analyze the detective’s stance to know he had already made up his mind—his persistence was nothing more than a show, an act to reinforce a conclusion he had already reached. But the look in Morgan’s eyes told you everything you needed to know. He cared about that kid.

Turning to the detective, you asked smoothly, “Is there a more private place where I can speak with my client?”

The man hesitated, taken aback. Up until this moment, you hadn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t an agent. His expression tightened. “I’m afraid we don’t have another space for you and the suspect,” he replied with a forced smile.

You returned his look with a cool, unwavering stare. “You do know that any conversation between me and him falls under lawyer-client privilege, right?”

His mouth opened in protest, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“And denying us the proper privacy means that any so-called evidence you think you can get from this interrogation would be inadmissible in court. Not to mention, it’s a direct violation of SSA Morgan’s constitutional rights.” Your tone remained calm, professional—not threatening. Not yet.

The detective narrowed his eyes but gave a short, forced nod, his polite smile not reaching them. “I’ll see what we can do.”

That was code for We’re not doing a damn thing, but we’ll make this as difficult as possible.

Fine. You’d play their game. But first, you needed to find out exactly what they had on Morgan—and fast.

As you step outside, a harsh voice—too raspy and loud for your liking—carries through the room, discussing evidence. You stay quiet, listening. Being on the other side of the law feels strange, but it’s not difficult. If you know how to prosecute, you know the tricks and games cops play. And if you know your opponent's strategy, it’s easier to disarm them and lead them where you want.

The detective asks Rossi if he’s Agent Gideon, and when the detective explains he was the one who sent the profile that led them to Morgan, you curse Gideon internally. First Reid, now Morgan. 

"It also said the way the body was placed gently on a mattress, not just tossed on the ground, indicated someone who was probably consumed with guilt, especially for the first victim. The exact words are—'with a guilt-ridden offender,' the BAU postulates the first victim is the most important and the unsub may still visit the place of the crime or even the victim himself.'"

Gordinski’s voice drips with conviction. "Care to guess who visits my first victim every time he's in town?"

You notice Reid glance at you, but you keep your focus on the detective, listening carefully as he continues. 

"Then yesterday, another kid ends up dead, and the last person he was with was Derek Morgan. In the boy's pocket, we found one of his FBI business cards, his cell number written on the back. In fact, every time Morgan's in town, he hangs out with kids."

JJ calls it a coincidence.

"A hell of a lot of coincidences," Gordinski retorts.

“I prefer the term 'circumstantial'” you say from the back of the room.

Gordinski turns, sizing you up with an incredulous look—too young, maybe too idealistic. "And you are?"

"Derek Morgan’s attorney." There was no reason to hide anymore, you didn't bother offering your hand.

Gordinski barely reacts before flipping open a file. "Did I mention that your client found the body in 1991? Hidden way back in a vacant lot. Now, don’t they teach you that when a body is hard to find, the person who finds it is always a suspect?"

You do the math quickly, Morgan would have been too young.

And you feel like Reid reads your thoughts when he answers. "There are key pieces of the profile that don't fit, Detective. The age—25 to 35—Morgan was 15 at the time."

"Profile Also says that age is the hardest to predict, and I should never exclude someone simply because of a discrepancy with the age." Gordinski is grasping now, trying to force the facts to fit.

Prentiss speaks up. "What about the speculation that since he didn't leave any evidence at the crime scene, he's likely to have a criminal record or law enforcement knowledge?"

"He may not have had knowledge of law enforcement, but Derek Morgan definitely had a criminal record." He tosses a file onto the table. You open it, scanning the contents. Resisting arrest. Vandalism. Aggravated battery. You inhale deeply.

"So he was a troubled kid, not a murderer. What kind of 15-year-old kills another boy, then deliberately stages the body just to make sure he’s the one to 'find' it?" Your voice is sharp, challenging him to walk into your tramp.

Gordinski smirks. "I’m sure you know psychopaths are very smart people, Miss."

Bingo.

You tilt your head. "So, is Morgan a psychopath? A guilt-ridden killer? Or an FBI agent dumb enough to leave his own business card at the crime scene? Because he can’t be all three, and right now you're contradicting yourself, Detective."

The room is silent for a beat. Gordinski clenches his jaw, his grip tightening on the file in his hands. He glares at you like you are his personal enemy.

You don’t give him time to recover. "You're reaching. And I think you know it." you say as you leave the room to look for your client.

And if Reid hadn’t been so mesmerized with the way you had subtly guided Gordinski, he might have given in to the impulse he had to correct him when he addressed you as Miss and not Counselor. 

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　

Rossi had sent Prentiss and Reid to Morgan’s house to investigate, while you stayed to ensure none of the Detectives would do something sketchy with the proofs.　　

Maybe it was the PTSD Dr. Fitzgerald diagnosed you with when you were 11, but the moment Carl Buford entered the room, something felt off. It wasn’t obvious, more like a second nature—a survival instinct that had been honed over the years. You weren’t always right, of course. You’d had a few false alarms before, but this time, something in the air shifted. It wasn’t in his appearance or his words; it was in the way he presented himself—as someone kind, someone willing to help, harmless. But it triggered something in you. The sirens in your brain went on, even if they were faint, too faint to be taken seriously but still enough to be annoying.

Reid had just returned from Morgan’s house when he saw you standing by the board, JJ on the phone and Rossi talking to you. He noticed how you discreetly stifled a yawn, and it hit him—it was nearly evening. The Cheetos packet that probably belonged to JJ and the half-eaten cheese sandwich from Rossi were the only signs of food nearby. It dawned on him that you likely hadn’t eaten all day.

He didn’t want to be the kind of person who overcompensated in an obvious way, but seeing you like this stirred something in him. It reminded him of the last time he saw you at the mall, how you’d instinctively avoided him, as if you couldn’t stand being around him for more than a few seconds. The longest you’d managed to stay in the same spot was 8.12 seconds.

That had been the last time, though. Now, things felt different. You were talking to Rossi when Reid approached and offered coffee to everyone. You could tell he was overcompensating—or at least, that’s what you assumed.

Then again, maybe you were reading too much into the moment when he’d slightly quickened his pace as you all entered the police station, holding the door open for everyone. Or maybe he was just anxious about his friend and eager to get inside quickly.

Or when you were rummaging through your bag for a pen, and he handed you one without hesitation. It could have been just a simple gesture, a convenient moment. But you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it—if he was trying to do something, anything, to bridge the gap between you.

You felt stupid for liking his gestures, for craving his attention. That’s why you said yes when he offered the coffee—because you couldn’t help it.

And he was happy to do it. He put special care into preparing your cup, even though he hadn’t asked how you took your coffee. Statistically speaking, most people put about two teaspoons of sugar in their coffee, but he didn’t know what you preferred. Maybe you liked it with even more sugar than that, just like he did. Maybe you didn’t use sugar at all, maybe you used honey.

He caught himself before he poured too much, measuring out what he assumed was the “average” amount, then handed it to you with a small, careful smile. There was a brief moment when your fingers brushed, and maybe his lingered for a second longer than necessary.

But when you took a sip, it hit you. The sweetness of the sugar was overwhelming, and the unexplainable presence of Carl Buford seemed to crawl into your mind, making it worse. It was your fault for not telling him no sugar. Your hand froze for a moment as you fought to swallow, your fingers tightening slightly around the cup.

Reid noticed. He saw how you stiffened, how your grip on the cup tightened, and he assumed he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe you didn’t like sugar in your coffee, or maybe you just didn’t like it at all. He felt a pang of regret, thinking he’d misread the situation. He wasn’t sure why, but for a moment, he wondered if he was always this wrong about you. North. North.

You didn’t want to overreact or be rude, so you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to splash some water on your face and steady yourself. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, silently telling yourself to calm down.

Maybe you were overreacting to Buford. But that thought was short-lived. The moment Hotch and JJ entered the room and she began speaking, confirming what you had already sensed, everything inside you seemed to crack. Carl Buford—the man who was fervently helping the police catch Morgan, was the same one who had written a letter to clear his record. The contradiction hit you like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t shake the sound of the sirens growing.

You followed Hotch as he approached the interrogation room, your mind racing with the unsettling sense you couldn’t shake. You didn’t even notice Reid following behind you, keeping a respectful distance. Hotch entered the room, and the questioning began.

"Carl Buford." Morgan’s voice was tight, his shoulders tensing at the name. He stood up from the table where his arms had been resting. "What?"

"Carl Buford. He runs the youth center." Hotch's voice was calm, measured, but you could feel the pressure building behind it. From the other side of the glass, you stood in front of the glass, only for a moment, before Reid joined you at a respectful distance.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Morgan's tone was dismissive, brushing off the mention of Buford like the idea of talking about him was unbearable.

"He's responsible for getting your records expunged." The words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. Maybe it was the steady presence of Reid beside you that kept you grounded, or maybe it was that something about Buford just didn’t sit right with you. The sirens in your head grew louder.

"I told you to stay the hell out of my business." Morgan’s voice rose, defensive, but not with rage—more like a wounded animal cornered by a predator.

"You said you visit the youth center every time you come here," Hotch pressed, not backing down.

"So what?" Morgan spat out the words like they were poison.

"Buford says he hasn't spoken to you in years. Why don’t you visit the man who made your career possible?"

"Damn you, Hotch." Morgan’s fist slammed onto the table as he stood up, knocking the box over in frustration. That was when you knew. The sirens in your brain were deafening now—loud enough to drown everything else out, and you couldn’t ignore it.

The sickness in your stomach was undeniable. You swallowed it down, fighting the urge to leave, but your instincts were already pushing you forward. You grabbed the door handle, taking one last breath before entering.

"Agent Hotchner, I would like to speak to my client." When Hotch didn’t move, still focused on Morgan, you added, "Now."

With a quiet but firm nod, Hotch left the room, his stoic expression unchanged. You sat down in the chair, your mind racing even faster. If you wanted Morgan to trust you—if you wanted to get through to him—you had to give him something first.

“Aren’t you supposed to be defending me? Looking for a way to get me out of here?” he snapped.

“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me, Derek.”

“I am being honest. I didn’t kill those kids! He has nothing to do with this!”

“Then why is he so eager to help the police?” you shot back.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything—just glared at you, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. You recognized that look. It was the look of someone who had learned, maybe too many times, that the world didn’t always care about the truth.

"Derek I can't do much if you don't trust me." You say as calmly as you can.

Morgan let out a humorless chuckle. “Trust you?” he said, shaking his head. “I barely know you.”

You leaned back slightly in your chair, eyes flickering over him. That’s fair. Trust wasn’t something that could be commanded, especially not in a place like this.

But you also knew what it was like to sit on the wrong side of an interrogation table. To have someone who was supposed to protect you look at you like you were already guilty. To feel like the walls were closing in, no matter how much truth you were screaming.

You swallowed, forcing the memories down before they could surface. If you wanted Morgan to trust you, you had to give him something first.

“Derek… I’m on your side, whether you believe it or not. Not because I owe you one, but because I can recognize someone whose trust was betrayed by the person who was supposed to protect them.” That made him look at you—really look at you. And you hated it. Hated the way he was seeing straight through you.

Being read, being seen—that wasn’t something you allowed often. But Morgan had spent his life reading people, understanding them, profiling them to find the truth. And you had spent your life sharpening your edges, and weaponizing strategically everything you didn’t like. But right now, you were offering him a piece of yours.

You took a slow, measured breath, and even though the room felt too warm, you forced yourself to keep going.

“My parents… my birth parents ran a meth lab in the kitchen,” you said, voice steady, though your hands curled into fists beneath the table. “When I was four, it exploded. I was sent to the hospital with burns, malnutrition, and withdrawal symptoms I didn’t understand. That was the first time CPS got involved. They put me in the system.”

Morgan’s expression didn’t shift, but you saw something flicker behind his eyes. Recognition.

“And if you know anything about the system, you know it’s broken. It fails. It doesn’t protect the people who need it the most,” you continued, your voice steady, but your chest felt tight. “There are cracks in it, and some people…take advantage of that. They play the part, they act like saviors, they pretend to care.” Your voice caught, just for a second. But you forced yourself to push through it. “I know men like Carl Buford. I grew up with one of them.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened. That name—Buford—hit the air like a hammer. You weren’t just asking for trust. You were offering something real. Something raw.

His fingers curled into fists on the table, and for a second, he looked away, shaking his head like he was trying to push a memory aside. But he didn’t deny it. Didn’t challenge you. Because he knew.

“And what happened?” he asked, voice lower now, controlled but heavy.

You exhaled sharply. “I clawed my way out, just like you did, got adopted when I was 8. And when I had the chance, I became the system—to change it the only way it’s possible, from the inside out.”

Morgan let the silence stretch, studying you, his fingers tapping once against the cold metal table. Finally, he let out a breath, something almost like defeat but not quite. “So what now?”

“Now,” you said, straightening, “We stop playing defense.”

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

You stepped out of the room, and though the tremor in your hands had subsided, the warmth lingering on your back remained. Scanning the precinct, your gaze locked onto the person you were looking for—Gordinski.

You strode toward him, your pace sharp, your voice sharper. “Are you going to charge my client with something, or are you just going to keep stalling?”

He smirked, relishing the frustration in your tone. “Miss Woodvale.” The mockery in his voice was deliberate, savoring the way your desperation bled through. “I still have over 40 hours to hold your client as a suspect.”

“Have you found any new evidence? Because all you have is a questionable profile and circumstantial evidence.” You leaned in slightly, wanting to get under his skin. 

“We have motive.” He said it like it was a trophy, something definitive, something final.

You let out a short, dry laugh. “No, you have a grudge. There’s a difference, and if you don’t know it, the jury won’t buy it.” You’d seen stronger cases collapse under weaker arguments.

His jaw tensed as he looked down at you, exhaling through his nose like you were an inconvenience. “Look, we have three dead kids and a family that wants closure. We’re just doing our job.”

You knew it was a low blow. You knew it was too much.

“Oh yeah? I wonder where I’ve heard that before?”

That was exactly why you said it.

Gordinski’s expression twisted as realization struck. One of the other detectives snapped at you, voices rising, the BAU stiffened, and you could already see Hotch preparing to apologize—everything was escalating.

Then— “Hey! What, did we turn him loose?”

The tension shifted. The detectives forgot your words in an instant, all eyes snapping to the officer outside the holding room—where Morgan had been.

Chaos erupted. Gordinski bolted toward the room, Dennison scrambled to dispatch patrols, Prentiss and JJ exchanged alarmed glances.

And that’s when you slipped away. Nobody noticed… Well nobody except Reid. He always had an eye on you, even from a distance.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

The air was cold, and in the rush of the moment, you’d forgotten to grab your coat. But in some strange way, you were grateful for it—the chill seemed to cool the simmering anger that was creeping through your veins as you headed toward the community center.

Morgan walked beside you, leading the way. You kept your head low, ducking behind columns to avoid the patrols that were probably looking for you. The familiar sensation of hiding felt strangely nostalgic—if you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine the cup of coffee in your hand as you walked through the campus at Harvard.

After ten minutes, you spotted a small field with the lights still on. A kid was out there, playing football by himself. Morgan moved closer to him.

“Lookin' good there, kid.”

You stayed a few feet behind, not wanting to interfere.

“I was tryin' to call you.” The kid stopped running and looked at Morgan.

“I’m here now.” Morgan spread his arms, inviting and friendly.

“Who’s that?” The kid glanced at you quickly, signaling toward you with a tilt of his chin. Unable to stay hidden any longer, you stepped onto the field and leaned back against the fencing, crossing your arms.

“Someone I trust. One of mine.” Morgan’s bold words were enough to drop the kid’s defenses.

You stayed silent, as invisible as you could be, observing how the kid tensed and relaxed automatically when Morgan mentioned needing to talk about Buford. You never thought you were good with kids—didn’t know how to act around them without overthinking, constantly looking for signs and flaws.

The more they talked, the more Derek described Buford’s manipulative ways, using his influence to make kids trust him only to exploit that trust, the more the freezing air of Chicago couldn’t keep the heat from rising inside you. Your hands curled into fists, squeezing your sides, wrinkling your shirt.

There were so many sick ways people used to reward or control others. Buford used alcohol and false bonds to make kids feel like adults, while others used toys or candy.

“My oldest brother’s in jail. My sister was paralyzed in a drive-by... She’s eight years old, and I’m all my mom’s got left. I gotta get us outta here.”

No kid should ever carry that kind of weight. No child should feel like enduring abuse is the only way out.

“Carl’s gonna make sure I get into college. Then I can make something of myself.” The gratitude in his voice was painful—the twisted sense of owing someone everything for their attention, their gifts.

You closed your eyes and looked up at the sky, trying to keep yourself from walking into the building alone and finishing whatever it was you had come here to do.

“James, you are something, man. You’re something right here, right now, without Carl Buford.” Morgan’s words hit you hard. He was right. James was someone. He was someone. You were someone, too. Despite everything, you were still breathing, still standing.

A tiny part of yourself felt grateful when you heard James had told Damien about what he was going through, that he had been brave enough to speak up and look for someone who would believe him and would do something about it. Damien knew. Morgan connected the same dots and realized who was staging the whole thing up.

Carl. Motherfucker. Buford.

Derek eventually finished talking to the kid and motioned for you to follow him. You didn’t know what his next move was, but you were backing him up. “Derek?”

He turned to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Whatever you want to do, I have your back.” You knew he saw it in your eyes—an intense, boiling rage that had driven you to places both good and bad. He knew that whatever he was going to do next, you wouldn’t stop him or doubt him.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

He gave you instructions on how to get through the back door of the office. But when you got there, Morgan was already calling him out.

“All these years, I kept my mouth shut. I let you go on being a hero. Carl Buford, my mentor.”

Buford’s back was toward you, and the more he talked, the more the air seemed to thicken with the heat of your rage. Your vision narrowed, blurred at the edges with red. A man. No—a monster. A predator who walked free for far too long, spinning his web of lies, manipulating, violating, ruining.

And he had the audacity to deny it. The smugness in his voice. The complete absence of remorse.

“Whatever lies James told you…” he said so easily, as if that erased the truth. As if that rewrote history.

Your hands clenched so hard they ached. How many lives had he destroyed? How many boys had suffered under his hands? You had seen men like him before—hell, you had been a child under the power of a man like him once. The weight of their hands. The control they wielded. The false kindness that masked something vile.

Your stomach twisted violently as you took in the sight of his office. The trophies. Row after row of gleaming gold, polished plaques. A shrine to his own ego. A testament to the world that this man was trusted, respected, celebrated.

And then you saw it. Dr. Or you think you did

The word burned itself into your mind like a scar. Dr. Calloway. It wasn’t his name, but your hands trembled anyway, your breath coming fast and ragged, and the sirens grew louder and louder. Was it the name? Was it the way the gold glinted under the dim light? Or was it just the overwhelming wrongness of all of this? 

Buford was still talking. Still spewing poison.

“How many lives have I provided? Look at you. You’d probably be dead by now.”

Lives.

Lives he had ruined.

Lives you could still save.

Your fingers curled around the base of a trophy—a heavy one, sharp at the edges. You barely registered the name engraved on it as your grip tightened, your knuckles going white.

For a split second, your mind whispered, Do it. The same one that had accompanied you in moments where you couldn’t move. Moments when your body wouldn’t answer to your orders. The voice of that version of yourself that would unleash violence. Do. It.

But then—Morgan. This wasn’t your moment. This wasn’t your fight.

But if he wanted to tear this office apart, you would hand him every single thing worth breaking. You would burn it to the ground and stand there, just to watch Buford scream as the flames took him.

Morgan’s voice cut through the storm inside your head.

“Actually, I’m saying you have everything to do with making me who I am.”

And so did you. Because this rage—this blistering, all-consuming, blood-boiling rage—was just another scar left by men like him. Men who stole, who twisted, who took and took and took until all that was left was ruin.

The sirens in your mind screamed. The voices clawed at your skull, howling for justice, for vengeance, for something more than just words, more than just silence.

Just like the ghosts of the past. Just like the hands of the past. Just like Calloway in the past. In the present.

Calloway. Buford.

"I never hurt you. You could have said no.”

Your grip on the trophy tightened, the sharp edges digging into your palm, but you barely felt the sting. All you saw was red. All you felt was fire.

"You're under arrest, Carl." The words cut through the haze, sharp and final.

Buford barely had time to react before the officers stepped in, twisting his arms behind his back, snapping cold metal around his wrists. He said something—denial, excuses, more of the same filth that men like him always spewed—but it didn’t matter.

It was over.

The red began to fade. The fire inside you simmered, but the embers still burned low, smoldering beneath your ribs. Your breath came in sharp, uneven pulls as you unclenched your fist. The trophy slipped from your fingers, clattering against the floor with a hollow, metallic thud.

Morgan was still staring at Buford, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

For a moment, you wondered if he felt it too—that same bone-deep ache, the need to destroy, to make it right in ways the law never could. But then he inhaled, long and slow, and you forced yourself to do the same.

He saw the trophy in your hand, and you expected to find judgmental eyes—eyes that would look at you like you were dangerous, like you had lost control, like you were no better than the man they were dragging away in cuffs.

But there was no judgment in Morgan’s gaze. Just understanding. Maybe even something closer to recognition.

Your fingers trembled around the trophy, your pulse still hammering in your ears, but you couldn’t let go. Not yet. The weight of it felt good in your grip, solid and real. It would’ve been so easy—so easy—to swing, to carve your fury into something tangible.

He must’ve seen it in you. The way your shoulders still heaved, the way your jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Morgan reached out, slow, steady. Not to stop you. Not to take it away. Just there.

A lifeline, if you wanted it.

You exhaled shakily, then forced your fingers to unclench. The trophy slipped from your grasp, landing with a dull thud against the floor.

Your hands were empty now. But the fire still burned.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

Resting against the wall, breathing heavily, you watched as they took Buford away under your intense gaze. Gordinski approached you.

“Your actions could be taken as obstruction of justice, Counselor,” he said, the sarcasm in your title not going unnoticed.

An old man threatening you, just to scare you and gloat himself, a pathetic move, especially now when there were still remains of the fire, not ashes yet. You sighed, as if too tired to deal with him, not even bothering to look his way. “And what are you going to do? Arrest me?” You finally glanced at him. “I have the Attorney General one phone call away, and I could charge you with misconduct and Sixth Amendment violation, which could dismiss the case you have been working for so long.”

You let the words sink in for a second while he remained serious. “You got your guy Detective. Walk away while you can.” 

Like in chess, any smart player knows when to retreat. He glared at you but ultimately backed off.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid watching. For a moment, you couldn’t help but return his stare. But then, lifting your chin, you towards the SUV, ignoring the strange sting of shame, the kind of shame you feel when you want to show the best version of yourself to someone, only to show the worst. It wasn’t the first time you had talked your way out of a charge, but it was the first time you felt ashamed of doing it.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

You and Morgan were the last to board the jet. After last night, you'd talked—just not about the… incident. He'd invited you to the grave of the unidentified child with him and his family, and, for some strange reason, it had brought you a sense of peace. Afterward, you joined the rest of the team on the way home.

You spotted Reid sitting by the window, absorbed in his book. North. South. You weren’t one to judge anyone’s demons, especially when you couldn’t even control your own. Maybe that’s why you sat in front of him. Maybe you were tired of pretending you didn’t want to know what was going on in his head.

When he noticed you, his eyes widened slightly, and his fingers nervously traced the edge of the page. Was this it? Would you confront him? Would he finally have the chance to explain himself?

"Do you think Raskolnikov ever believed he deserved the punishment?" you asked, your voice quiet but firm, meeting his gaze. "Or did he just convince himself he was too special to face it?"

Reid blinked, clearly caught off guard, but after a beat, he answered. "I think Raskolnikov believed he was above it all. That his intelligence and theories made him different. But that’s the tragedy—he never understood that punishment isn’t just about what you deserve. It’s about confronting what you’ve done. The guilt you carry. Sometimes, it’s about having someone who believes in you, even when you can’t believe in yourself." His voice softened with the words, as if careful not to scare you off.

You didn’t break eye contact, letting the weight of his words settle. After a pause, you glanced back down at the book. "Someone like Sonia?"

Reid’s gaze flickered, sensing the shift in the conversation. You weren’t just talking about Raskolnikov anymore. Maybe it was about him. Maybe about you. "Someone like Sonia," he said quietly. "She believed in him, not because he was special, but because she saw his humanity. Sometimes, it’s not about whether someone deserves forgiveness—it’s whether someone else is willing to help them find it."

A quiet tension lifted from your shoulders, and your expression softened, the unspoken understanding between you both almost palpable in the air. North. South.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

By lunchtime the next day, the events of the prior day still gnawed at you. The feeling only worsened when your eyes landed on the basket sitting in the corner of your office—filled with chocolates and candy.

Taking a deep breath, you picked it up and turned to your temporary assistant, a guy covering for Molly while she was on maternity leave. “I’m stepping out for twenty minutes,” you told him.

Basket in hand, your thoughts blurred together as you walked toward the park. It was a familiar refuge, a place where kids and elderly chess players gathered, lost in their games. A little distraction wouldn’t hurt. It would be good for you to clear your mind—and they always appreciated it when you brought baskets like these or treats from your mom’s bakery.

　　　　 　　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　　　　 　　 　　 　

So we finally see more of reader's past! been waiting for this since i started drafting the story in my mind. You'll know more the next chapter!　 　　　 Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3 Tag list: @arialikestea @hellsingalucard18 @pleasantwitchgarden @torturedpoetspsychward @cultish-corner<3

[lizsos]

One Of Them

warning: smut, breeding, daddy kink, size kink, age gap, In-ho being a cocky prick, unsafe sex, ass slapping, mentions of cervix touching (made up kid name) this does not take place in squid game!!

Genre: smut

Ever since you heard about your next door neighbor Mr. Hwang going through a divorce, things have been hell. For you.

From the day he first moved into the apartment, constantly arguing on the phone with his ex wife about whose turn it was to watch his son, Ji-ho .

When Ji-ho is over, everything’s quiet, and you finally get a chance to rest your head and relax in peace. Doing some studying and cleaning in the quiet atmosphere.

You wished the black haired boy would stay for just a day longer, because In-ho is back to his usual self hours later. Bringing in young college girls one after the other. Fucking them hard against his headboard as they let out loud cries of daddy. It was annoying. You couldn't even stay inside anymore to get work done.

At every hour of the day he seemed to be active, fucking through all sorts of women, the shaking of your thin bedroom wall never coming to an end as high pitched moans echoed through.

It was getting to the point where you couldn’t take it. You were so fed up. Didn’t he ever get tired? Tired of promising these young desperate girls to call them back only to throw away their numbers and fuck their friends the next day.

Weeks go by and nothing changes, Ji-ho coming over for a silent three days then leaving again. Giving his father enough time to fuck any feelings for his ex wife out of his system.

You swore you couldn’t take it, you had barely been able to study, occasionally spending an hour or two in a nearby café between classes. When you noticed your grades slipping, your eyes having prominent bags at the lack of sleep, you groan loudly in frustration. Finding your legs moving before you could even process it.

Your fist raising to knock on the man’s door once, then twice, with no answer. You huffed, going in to knock a third time before the door swung open. A tall, muscular man towering over you with a scowl. “What?”

Your eyes widened as you scanned over his body, his perfectly sculpted face, broad shoulders, defined abs, and the very distinct outline in his sweats.

The man cleared his throat, a smirk gracing his face when he startled you out of your intense drooling. “Now, what do we have here?” he chuckled deeply, tilting his head to the side with crossed arms as he rested against the door’s frame. “Here to get your turn sweetheart?”

You gulped, finding it harder to spit out your words as the hwang man stared you down. “I.. I’m here to ask you to keep the noise down, some people have actual work to do.”

In-ho whistled, “Oh? A bold one huh? I like it,” His hand reaching under your chin to make you look fully up at him. “you’re a pretty little thing you know,” he spoke, running his thumb along your bottom lip, “wonder what you’d look like ruined underneath me.”

You ignored the flutter that went off in your pussy, clenching your thighs discreetly as you glared. “Just keep the noise down okay old man? I'm trying to study.”

In-ho could feel his cock grow harder, you were just what he needed. “So i’m an old man now? That’s a first, usually girls like you just call me daddy.” he shrugged, “but it’s okay, you’ll get there.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked away from him, annoyance written all over your face to mask the arousal swirling in your stomach. He’d probably fucked the entire neighborhood by now, including the campus, so you weren’t gonna fall for his sick charms. You just hoped he complied and kept the place quiet, you didn’t need that usual noise the day before your big test.

In-ho had surprisingly did as you asked, and you sighed in content as you read through the pages of your notes. Your pen in your hand finding itself in between your teeth as you bit down softly. You got what you wanted, so why was your mind running wild with thoughts of the Hwang man’s hands on your body as he fucked you like all of those other girls.

You shifted in your seat, one leg over the other to bring stimulation to your needy clit making you whimper softly. You couldn’t let yourself give in you plus didn't want to be one of them.

Another week passed and you once again found yourself in the same noisy predicament. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the man more than twice your age. Way too old for you yet just so.. hot. Hwang In-go had become your fantasy.

And it was unbearable.

Hearing all these moans day and night. Hearing In-ho’s loud grunts and groans as he no doubt left them with the best fuck of their lives.

It was Thursday, and Ji-ho would be coming tomorrow per routine, so you’d finally get a break then. But, you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted an excuse to go over there. Your face serious as you banged on his door.

You waited a minute, a shirtless In-ho emerging into the door frame as it flew open. In-ho smirked, “Ah, you again.” His sweatpants hung dangerously low beneath the start of his v line, black hair messy as his tongue darted out to swipe across his lips. “Finally came to your senses?”

His last fuck had left right before you came, coincidentally of course.

“N-no.” you objected sternly. “I’m here to ask you again to just be.. what are yo-“

You swallowed hard when he began stalking towards you, a sinister grin on his face as you were backed up against a wall. His breath fanned your head as he bent his neck. Hands on the walls near each side of your face. “Your face says otherwise, sweetheart.”

“No it d-doesn’t.. you’re just a cocky old man preventing me from getting things done.”

In-ho’s brow raised with a deep hearty chuckle, “Back to that nickname i see,” His hand grabbing hold of your cheeks and squeezing them together. “Gonna have to clean that mouth of yours, teach you how to be a good girl.”

You whimpered lowly, feeling wetness pool between your legs as you looked up through your lashes . In-ho’s eyes trailing to your glossy lips as he inhaled sharply. “Don’t worry, this dirty old man’s lips are clean”

Pressing his lips roughly to yours, your eyes widening as you gripped the edge of your skirt with a moan. In-ho smirked against your lips, his hands hooking beneath your legs as he lifted you up. Your frame so much smaller in comparison to his larger one.

In-ho was quick to bring you inside. And you found yourself sitting on the man’s lap, your skirt bunched up at your hips as he hammered up into your wet cunt with brute force. His hands kneading into the flesh of your ass each time you ground your hips onto him.

You let out a loud mewl, his thick cock stretching you out and grazing against your gummy walls as he fucked you deep. Feeling him within your stomach when you cried out. “Mr. Hwang— ah, so- ngh g-ood.”

“That’s not my name sweetheart, try again.” he growled deeply, landing his palm onto your ass in a hard slap. And you whimpered tearfully at the sting. “I-In-ho —” Another harsh smack burning through your flesh making you let out a cry. “Last chance.”

You moaned loudly, your back arching as In-ho slammed into you. “D-daddy, ahh daddy, o-oh fuckk—,”

In-ho hummed in satisfaction, “Look at you, thought i was a dirty old man hmm?” His teeth biting softly at the delicate skin of your neck, his pelvis hitting your red puffy folds relentlessly. “Moaning for me like a little slut, so fucking pretty.”

You let out a shaky cry, “Haah— M-Mr. Hwang,” Your pussy clenched down on his girth, his rough hand making its way around your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look at him. “Not gonna fucking tell you again.”

You mewled, “‘M sorry— nngh,” Your back arching when In-ho bullied his cock deeper into you.

“Still waiting sweetheart ” he grunted, eyes dark as his grip on your throat tightened, your moans and whimpers loud as his thighs noisily met your sticky cunt. “D-addy— ahh- so good,” you cried, feeling his angry tip forcing its way to your cervix, kissing the entrance with each harsh thrust.

“Good fucking girl, you’re getting there” he grinned with a groan. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, your pussy gushing messily onto him as loud squelching sounds filled the room. “Pussy’s so fucking tight— better be on the pill cause i’m botta cum in that pretty pussy, shit.”

“Ah— nngh daddy, ‘m close- gonna cum.” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back and your lips parting in a string of incoherent babbles, In-ho’s thrusts sloppy as he groaned.

“Gonna cum on this old man’s dick yeah?” He teased cockily, “Had so much talk for someone who’s falling apart on my cock.” In-ho grunted, “Bet ya sat there listening like a lil perv, your hand down your panties hmm?”

You shook your head no with a cry, “Uh uh- ahh— wasn’t.”

“Sure about that? Sure you didn’t sit there and fantasize about me fucking you like a little slut?” His hand reached down to rub at your clit, a loud moan escaping your mouth.

Your breathing sped up as you felt a coil buildup in your stomach. Your body shaking with pure ecstasy. You let out a high pitched scream, the stimulation to your g spot making your head go fuzzy. Vision turning white as you clenched down tightly on In-ho ’s cock.

“O-oh fuck— ‘m cumming— ah, cumming daddy.”In-ho’s hand pressed down harder on your throat, the pressure restricting your air flow making you let out a choked mewl. Tears welling in your eyes as his heavy balls smacked against your ass.

“Nngh—” The ring of white thickened at his base as you let out whiny cries. In-ho’s hand working small circles on the sensitive bud before he brought his lips to your ear. His voice deep and gruff as he groaned. “Fuck sweetheart- squeezing me so tight, come on and scream for me.” He breathed, “make a mess on my cock.”

In-ho’s mean pace became too much, a tight pull in your stomach as your mouth fell open, legs trembling with loud cries as an unfamiliar feeling washed over you.

It was heavenly, your brain going dumb and your pupils disappearing behind heavy lids as you screamed loudly, head falling back and nails digging into his shoulders as you fell off the edge.

In-ho never slowing the movement of his hips, still hammering up into you despite the mess you were making on his thighs. Your pussy spraying streams after streams of clear liquid as you arched your hips, grinding back and forth to ride out your squirting orgasm.

“Even fucking louder than any of my previous fucks.” he laughed, “Wonder what the neighbors would say, went from being a whiny little bitch to being the same thing you complained about.”

You let out a whine, In-ho flipping you abruptly onto your back, his hand still around your neck as the position allowing him to hit even deeper. “Fuck,” he grunted, his words in between each thrust. “gonna fucking breed that pussy so deep.” Letting out a low groan at the last thrust, his lips meeting yours in a sloppy kiss as he bottomed out.

A whimper fell past your lips into his when you felt him fill you up, his cum shooting in hot thick spurts along the walls of your cunt.

He smirked as he pulled away, watching you pant heavily. “Would make such a good breeding bunny.” Dipping his fingers past your lips and resting them on the back of your tongue. “Might have to keep you around, can’t be disturbed if you’re the one making the noise now can you?”

You shook your head tiredly, forcing your eyes to stay open as In-ho pulled out of you. His sticky cum seeping out of your fluttering pussy slowly. Your brain was still so clouded, blinking in and out of blurry vision.

In-ho hid the smile threatening to creep up onto his face, his face neutral as he plopped down onto the couch next to you. “Rest if you need to, then leave.” He said nonchalantly, trying to seem like his usual self despite the fact that he had not kicked you out yet. Which was something he never did, let a girl stay any longer than a second after sex.

The man would never admit it, but there was just something about you.

He wanted to make you his pretty little girl.

[kokokoula]

it's alright

TW: smut in the second section, but i make it as fluffy as possible i swear

a/n: um in my defence i just really wanted soft and cute smut and i couldn't find much. it is my first time writing nsfw ok, it will probably be a bit cringy. i'm not planning to write any more smut in the future, just spare me this one 😔🙏

---

it's well late into the night, but it's only now that both you and your coworker, tsukishima, finally end work at the sendai museum. as you take the lift down together, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud grumble. tsukishima doesn't bother to hide his laugh.

"shut up, i haven't eaten dinner yet." you scold him, your face hot.

"right."

at the sight of his amused face, your heart does a little flutter.

you're close enough to your reserved colleague, sharing the same shifts and all. not to the point of contacting outside of work, but there is still some kind of weird connection that you can't imagine having with anybody else. it gives you butterflies and uncontrollable smiles, makes you look forward to work, even. despite that, you shove it down. maintaining professionalism is a strict rule here.

the two of you are close enough.

"damn, i'm craving for good ramen right now." you lament as the lift doors open. he lets out a noise of acknowledgment and walks out. you're used to his nonchalance, and simply leave the building with him. you're about to part ways, till he calls out from behind.

"aren't you coming?" you stand there dumbly, not understanding his words.

"you want ramen, don't you? i know a place still open." tsukishima nods to the opposite direction. you widen your eyes. you know he isn't one to initiate these kind of things, and you've never hung out after work together before. you don't want anything to happen between you two... but one supper can't do any harm, right?

you grin and catch up to him.

---

you were dead wrong. incredibly wrong. you blame him for getting yourself in this mess.

because now you have the one you swore not to get too close to on top of you, in your bed, kissing you senseless.

it's your first time seeing him like this: his hair dishevelled, his lips swollen, and his golden flecked eyes without the lenses; he's even more beautiful. okay, if this is a mess, a mistake, it's a perfect one.

tsukishima sinks his cock into you. it stings a bit at first, but the feeling is quickly replaced by something else entirely better.

"fuck, you're so…" he groans and you bite your lip. you run your fingers through the strands on his nape in adoration and his hips snaps into you, eliciting a moan.

"hah, your fault." he starts thrusting, hard, and you give a cry out. all the while, he's cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away your stray tears lightly. it's a funny contrast. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing, nibbling, panting, moaning… shit, you can feel it coming.

"tsuki--"

"kei."

"huh?"

"my first name. kei." it's sacred.

"kei," you experimentally let the word roll off your tongue. you've never said it before, but it feels right. he takes in a sharp breath.

"good girl." he pushes your legs further apart to reach the spot that makes you see stars.

"kei!" his name comes to you so easily now, and you won't mind saying it a thousand times over. he rewards you with a rough, albeit sloppy, kiss. pinning one of your hands to the soft mattress, he intertwines his fingers with yours, gripping tightly. it's a small action, but it's an affectionate one.

you think you might actually be falling for him. it's probably a terrible idea, but maybe it's worth taking the risk.

---

the sun is rising on the horizon, and you'd just fallen asleep. meanwhile, tsukishima lies awake next to you, studying your face and listening to your steady breaths.

it must be creepy of him, he thinks, but he can't bring himself to look away. he has known you for over a year now ever since you joined the museum, and spent half of it pining for you. to end up here with you, is something he believed he could only dream of. kei brings his hand up to brush away the stray strands of hair covering your face, but stops himself before he does.

is he allowed to do this? to be this intimate? it sounds stupid, given that you two have just fucked. however, he has always made it a point to keep to corporate's rules, and now that he had just broken an important one, he doesn't know what to do.

tsukishima's mind runs in circles, but everything halts when you snuggle closer to his chest, a cute little frown on your sleeping face. he melts immediately, his face flushing red.

fuck it, he won't be able to not love you from this point forwards. he carefully puts an arm around your sleeping figure and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

right now, he'll just enjoy being with you, and that should be alright.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts...

You hadn't opened your eyes yet when you felt Bucky’s fingers brush along your stomach in an almost hypnotic motion. You didn't know what time it was or what was going on in the world outside, but you knew you were in his arms and would be in his bed soon enough. Sleeping with someone next to you wasn’t something you were completely used to. It had been so long, and when it did happen it was always by choice.

Yeah choice is not really an option here 🥴

“See, here's the thing…” You suddenly pulled yourself from his grasp and turned in time to smack him in his face with the pillow. His shocked expression was worth it. “I don’t remember the rest of my dream because some entitled jerk pounded on my door in the middle of the night and punched a hole in the wall.”

Fair 🤷🏻‍♀️

You did it again, your frustration fueled more as he kept laughing. “Sleep is precious to me,” you said, nodding to his lower region. “You’re lucky I don't smack that with the pillow.” He took it from your grasp before you could try. “Okay, it was shitty of me to show up when I did. I’ll give you that,” he said, reaching out to touch your cheek. “But I really did miss you.”

Shitty is an understatement

“Fuck, doll, I’m so hard for you,” he moaned. You counted to three in your head and brushed your teeth a little harder, faster, trying to block him out. Maybe if you ignored him he'd shut his mouth. Maybe. “Are you wet for me? Come to bed and let me take care of you. I'll make you melt on my tongue.”

Not even peace and quiet while brushing your teeth, my nightmare ��

You swallowed hard, but smiled. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, right? Right,” you said, proudly walking with confidence from the room. “Clean up after yourself when you’re done.” “I’ll clean you up, too, after I make a mess of you,” he stated, a long moan following as you plopped down on the sofa.

Good god, you can't even ask about a breakfast order with him🥴

“Not really,” he admitted, setting the food out with a frown. “Orgasms take the edge off, but having you close and not having you is difficult.” “Sounds like a you problem,” you uttered.

Hahahaha so true 😂

You were glad for that as well. “Well, it was nice resting somewhere that didn’t have cameras or bugs around the place. Natasha was also nice to talk to,” you said. Meeting her didn’t fully ease your stress, but she helped. Bucky ignored the camera comment.

Of course he did 🤦🏻‍♀️🙄

Likely because of whatever she experienced growing up she looked out for others, though you wondered if part of it was because you were Bucky’s girl. “She offered me a place here in case I ever need space or time to myself., I plan to take her up on that offer.” He was quiet for a moment. “Because you don’t want to be near me.”

🙄😒🙄😒

“She stopped and put a hand to her head while her friend kept walking. I could tell something was wrong and before I knew it I rushed toward her and grabbed her hand when she started to collapse. I pulled her out of the way just in time before a speeding car hit her,” you explained, remembering it like it was yesterday. Your heart had raced so fast when she crumpled in your arms. “Her friend understandably freaked out and flagged a car down to take her to the hospital. She kept thanking me for saving Winnie, but I was still worried about her.” “Winnie.” Bucky swallowed hard and loosened the hold on your hand. “That was her name?”

Oh 👀

“I lied to you during our first date when I said I wish you could’ve met my mother. You did meet her and she did love you,” he said, showing you a photo in his wallet. It was a younger picture of Bucky. He looked full of life and the woman smiling was the very woman you pulled out of the path of the car. “You just didn’t know it.”

🥺🥺🥺

“And imagine my surprise when I had my men look into you just to get facial recognition footage of you saving my mom on the street that fateful day. And footage from the hospital with you sitting there talking with her, bringing her happiness without asking for anything in return,” he said, cupping your cheek as you tried to get over the shock. “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you, but that just solidified it more. You saved my mom, and gave me more time with her. That’s something that no one else could ever give me.”

That seems a little overkill if you ask me, a simple thank you are a nice bouquet would have been enough

Your lip trembled. You saved his mom’s life, gave him more time with one of the only people he seemed to love and respect. No, that couldn’t be. That couldn’t have been you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because I had scared you enough. Would you have listened or believed me if I told you that so soon?” he asked gently.

That truly doesn't really make it better lol

“Don’t you see now why I’m so desperate to keep you close? To keep you safe? Had I looked into it then, we could’ve met and been together this whole time,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. “But it’s okay. Fate stepped in and brought us together now.” He traced your lips with his thumb. “We’re going to make up for all the lost time, and never be lonely again, Kotyonok. That’s a promise.”

Promises can be broken, right? 🫣

Something fell apart inside you and you weren’t sure when you began to openly weep, but he silenced your cries with his lips. Maybe he was crying, too, you couldn’t be sure, but he held you tight against him and didn’t let go. You didn't fight him, couldn't fight him. You were the one who asked for answers after all and you got them, didn’t you? And knowing what you knew now, walking away from Bucky was never going to be an option. He would never allow it. Fate wouldn't allow it either.

💔💔💔

Hold You Tight: Part 15

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 14 | Series Masterlist | Part 16

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.6k

Chapter Summary: You learn the root of Bucky's obsession with you.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, masturbation, dirty talk, tension, backstory, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, slight feels, talk of violence, angst, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and this chapter is... something. Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You hadn't opened your eyes yet when you felt Bucky’s fingers brush along your stomach in an almost hypnotic motion. You didn't know what time it was or what was going on in the world outside, but you knew you were in his arms and would be in his bed soon enough. Sleeping with someone next to you wasn’t something you were completely used to. It had been so long, and when it did happen it was always by choice.

You hadn't exactly kicked Bucky out though, had you? No, you invited him in. If only to prevent him from putting another hole in the wall. Natasha said she’d bill him for it, but you were going to make Bucky pay her extra for the inconvenience.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmured, his lips touching your neck. “Your breathing changed.”

“Mmm. You listen to me breathe?” you mumbled. That tracked for him.

“It’s a beautiful sound,” he said, your eyes finally opening when he pulled you closer. Whether it was sleep, being beside you, or both, it had an effect on his… anatomy. You went still when he rocked his hips once, letting you feel just how hard he was. “God, waking up beside you is a dream come true.”

Your fingers dug into the pillow under your head as he rolled his hips again. His fingers didn't drift south, didn't tug at your pajamas. He also didn't stop that slow grind and you hated that a bit of wetness gathered between your thighs. “Did you have good dreams?” you asked, your voice surprisingly even.

“Mmm. I had very good dreams,” he answered, his voice rough. “Would you rather I tell you or show you?”

Neither. That was what you told yourself. “What about me?” you asked. “You don’t want me to tell you about my dreams?”

“Tell me,” he urged, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I dreamt about you, Bucky. You laying beside me in bed, holding me close. Just like this,” you said, his groan permeating your skin. “Do you want me to keep going?”

His teeth gently sank into your shoulder, making you gasp. “Yes,” he growled.

“Okay,” you smiled, pushing your hips back just a little to tease him. “I dreamt that you touched me. So hot it made me feel like I was on fire.”

Another groan escaped. “Where, Kotyonok? Where did I touch you?” he asked, his voice strained.

“See, here's the thing…” You suddenly pulled yourself from his grasp and turned in time to smack him in his face with the pillow. His shocked expression was worth it. “I don’t remember the rest of my dream because some entitled jerk pounded on my door in the middle of the night and punched a hole in the wall.”

He chuckled as he sat up, his hair falling in his eyes. It was a gorgeous sight and it wasn't fair. “Did you just hit me with a pillow?”

You did it again, your frustration fueled more as he kept laughing. “Sleep is precious to me,” you said, nodding to his lower region. “You’re lucky I don't smack that with the pillow.”

He took it from your grasp before you could try. “Okay, it was shitty of me to show up when I did. I’ll give you that,” he said, reaching out to touch your cheek. “But I really did miss you.”

“I understand that, but it was one day,” you argued, shivering when his thumb moved along your skin. He went a single day without you and lived to tell the tale.

Pain filled his eyes. “But I already went so long without you.”

You sighed, pulling away and searching for your phone so you could check the time. “I need caffeine before we have our talk.”

Bucky looked down at himself. “And I need to take care of this.” He smirked at your expression. “Don't worry. As much as I want to be inside you, our first time won't be here.”

That was a relief. “But you do plan to fuck me here at some point.”

“Natasha let that slip, huh?” He stood up with a stretch and you looked away. “I plan to make love to you and fuck you, too. The best of both worlds.”

“How considerate.” You stretched, too, his eyes following you. “Let me use the bathroom before you jerk off in there, please.”

“You're welcome to listen,” he smiled.

He’d probably put on a show if he knew you were listening. “I’m going to sit in the other room once I’m done and order breakfast. Would you like anything?”

He looked touched that you considered that. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, please.”

“Okay,” you said, rushing to the bathroom before he could follow.

“I might just jerk off in bed if you’re in there,” he called out as you shut the door.

“Be my guest!”

You swore you heard a chuckle as you went about your business, going to the bathroom, brushing your teeth. Ignoring him didn’t last when you heard a soft groan. Jesus, the man had absolutely no shame.

“Fuck, doll, I’m so hard for you,” he moaned.

You counted to three in your head and brushed your teeth a little harder, faster, trying to block him out. Maybe if you ignored him he'd shut his mouth. Maybe.

“Are you wet for me? Come to bed and let me take care of you. I'll make you melt on my tongue.”

Spitting harder in the sink than you needed to, you gripped the porcelain once you rinsed your mouth out. You had no doubt he’d eat you out like a starved man. Would he make you take him in your throat soon? Fuck your face until you drooled and cried or would he be gentle and let you get used to the weight of him on your tongue?

“I know you can hear me.” His voice was sinful, dark, and you scrubbed your skin so hard when you washed your face you were stunned you didn’t hurt yourself. “Sure you don’t wanna come out and see what you do to me? Maybe show me your pretty pussy? I can jerk off on it and spread it all over those pretty lips.”

You bit your lip, wishing your knees didn’t feel weak. “Bucky, please.”

He groaned louder, his breathing labored. Your breathing was a little heavier, too. “Say it again, I’m almost there.”

All you had to do was open the door to see if his pupils were dilated, if there was heat in his cheeks. Was his hair still a mess from sleeping? Would he make a show of stroking his cock? “Bucky, hurry up,” you demanded.

He chuckled, a breathy sound. “Can’t wait for you to say that before I fuck you.” Your eyes shut as he let out another obscene groan. “Before I fill you full of me.”

“Just go to the sitting area,” you muttered to yourself, not looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You left the bathroom with the hope of avoiding his gaze, but you made the mistake of looking at the bed. He was in the middle of it, looking every bit like a king. His lower half was covered by the blanket, but you could see that his right hand was under there, still stroking himself. His chest heaved, his eyes half lidded as you stared at each other. You had to break yourself from that spell, even if the man was jerking off to the thought of you.

“Like what you see?” he rasped.

You swallowed hard, but smiled. “Coffee with cream and sugar, eggs sunny side up, and bacon, right? Right,” you said, proudly walking with confidence from the room. “Clean up after yourself when you’re done.”

“I’ll clean you up, too, after I make a mess of you,” he stated, a long moan following as you plopped down on the sofa.

Guess he finished.

Once it was quiet enough in the bedroom, you ordered breakfast. You still needed a shower, if only to cool yourself off and get rid of the wetness that seeped out thanks to Bucky. You weren’t sure if you trusted him not to join you or try to watch and had a feeling he’d make you shower and bathe with him once you moved in.

Bucky, for his part, didn’t come out until there was a knock on the door minutes later. Any trace of his earlier transgression was gone, looking more put together, but there was still tension in the air. You remained silent as he thanked whomever was at the door once he checked the breakfast cart himself and wheeled it to the small table. He even pulled out a chair for you, staring at you with a soft gaze until you went to join him.

“Feel better?” you asked.

“Not really,” he admitted, setting the food out with a frown. “Orgasms take the edge off, but having you close and not having you is difficult.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you uttered.

He sat down and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Why did you invite me in this morning?”

“I told you I was tired,” you said, which you were.

He hummed, taking a bite of his eggs. “You could’ve told me to leave, have Natasha call security, anything, but you didn’t do any of that. You didn’t make me sleep on the sofa either,” he said with a knowing smile. “Admit it, you wanted me in bed with you.”

“I will not admit that,” you said quickly. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

He shrugged. “Maybe you were testing to see if I’d stay true to my word and not force myself on you or maybe you actually missed me more than you want to admit to yourself. Either way, I’m glad you did. Best sleep I can remember in a long time.”

Admitting anything would be admitting defeat and you couldn’t do that to yourself. “It wasn’t even a full night’s sleep,” you pointed out. It was after two in the morning when he showed up.

“Doesn’t matter. I still slept well because I was holding you,” he smiled softly, nodding to your plate. “Please, eat. The food here is really good.”

You poked your food around before you dug in. He said things like that and it fueled your guilt for not giving in or fully accepting your new life. You weren’t going to romanticize anything he did though.

“You said we had some things to talk about,” he said after a minute. “I’m all ears.”

You took a large sip of your coffee first. “Yeah, like Ray following me. It was meant to be a day to myself and you had me followed,” you said, watching for his reaction. As expected, he didn’t look the least bit ashamed. “I don’t expect an apology from you because you’ll harp that it was for my own good, but you can understand my frustration that you didn’t let me know, right?”

That was one of the things that bothered you the most. The half answers and missing pieces and being kept in the dark. How much of it was for your own good and how much was it because he didn’t want you frightened more?

“I did have you followed and my instinct proved to be correct that you needed eyes on you. Also proves that you need to move in as soon as possible,” he said, your heart sinking. Of course he was twisting this to justify himself and get what he wanted. “But I get your frustration. It’s a big change for you, having eyes on you at all times.”

“Because of you.” You ignored the flicker of hurt in his eyes. This was all because he chose you. “Why Ray?”

“He’s good at his job, I trust him, and you seem to trust him,” he replied. You did to an extent. “I’m glad he suggested this place to you since you weren’t exactly interested in spending the rest of your day at home.”

You were glad for that as well. “Well, it was nice resting somewhere that didn’t have cameras or bugs around the place. Natasha was also nice to talk to,” you said. Meeting her didn’t fully ease your stress, but she helped.

Bucky ignored the camera comment. “She can bend the will of many men to do what she wants,” he said. There was respect there, even a hint of fondness. “Unsurprisingly, she’s protective of you, which is good.”

Likely because of whatever she experienced growing up she looked out for others, though you wondered if part of it was because you were Bucky’s girl. “She offered me a place here in case I ever need space or time to myself., I plan to take her up on that offer.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Because you don’t want to be near me.”

Putting your hand on his across the table, he immediately reacted to your touch. It was time to take a lesson from Natasha’s book and sway him. “Because we both need that space and moments to ourselves, just like we both need our friends. And any time apart will only make things more meaningful when we’re back together,” you stressed. Like you were stubborn in accepting your fate, he was stubborn in not wanting separation from you in the slightest. “I already feel like a prisoner of sorts in this relationship, so is it really too much to ask for a bit of a longer leash?”

“I’ll worry when you’re not nearby,” he admitted.

Your heart clenched, but you couldn’t allow that sweetness to manipulate you. “Because of men like Helmut Zemo?” you asked. Bucky gripped his fork tight. “You know, it’s a little convenient that the day you give me to myself is the day he shows up.”

What if it was a ruse for Bucky to not give you more days to yourself?

“I can see why you’d think that. I'd be suspicious if the roles were reversed,” he said, a hardened look crossing his face. “But I don’t want him anywhere near you and wouldn’t set you up that way.”

You were still a little suspicious, but the way Bucky, Ray, and Natasha reacted regarding Zemo told you that none of them had any idea he’d pop up. “Why not?”

“Because he isn’t a good person and shouldn’t have gone near you,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m not a good person either, but he’s something else.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. There was a story there and you needed answers.

“He’s rich, powerful, like me in many ways, but the difference is he once had a wife and kid who were his whole world. Something I’ve longed for and never had.”

You tried not to tense up, but that was where you came in for Bucky. He wanted you to make that dream a reality. “Had?” you asked, noticing he referred to Zemo’s family in the past tense.

Bucky nodded sadly. “A few years ago they were… collateral damage in a deal gone wrong. The loss changed him. He grew colder, more ruthless,” he explained. You were glad you finished eating because you weren’t sure you could stomach a bite after that. “Our work relationship has been shaky ever since then because he blames some of the men I’ve worked with for what happened and I feel like he’s been biding his time and waiting to strike.”

“‘Collateral damage’? It was his wife and child,” you said. Zemo may not have been a good person, but you had no doubt his family was innocent.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound heartless,” he said.

“And what? Him setting his sights on me, is it a game? Is he going to hurt me?” you asked, tears instantly filling your eyes. You were afraid all over again. “Will he try to kill me?” you whispered. Bucky’s associates were loyal to him as far as you knew. If Zemo blamed them in some way, what better way to hurt them than to hurt someone their boss cared about? A loss for a loss.

“No,” he said fiercely, pushing his chair back so fast and hard that it hit the floor. A tear fell when he rushed around, dropping to his knees beside your chair. “I don’t know what his angle is yet, but I’m going to find out and I won’t let him hurt you.”

“How can you guarantee that?” you asked.

“I can’t, but I have to try because I can’t lose you, too,” he whispered, wiping your tears away. “We don’t even have to wait until the end of the month for you to move in. I can have your apartment packed up while you’re out with your friends.”

You pulled away from his touch. “No,” you whispered back. Moving in sooner wouldn't help. “You owe me more answers.”

He let out a breath. “Kotyonok-”

“No!” you snapped, moving back in your chair. “Why are you so obsessed with me? And don’t just tell me that it was the connection of seeing me at the club and realizing we’re two lonely souls meant to be together. There is something there that no one is telling me and I need to know.”

Whether it was for closure or sealing your fate, it would drive you crazy to not know.

Bucky took your hands and pulled you up, a detached look taking over his features as he led you to the sofa. The look frightened you more than his leers or glares. Had you pushed too far?

“I told you my dad was an unfaithful partner to my mom, but he was worse. Much worse,” he began, gently squeezing your hand. “We always had money, more than we knew what to do with, but it was never enough for him. He stole from his partners and was careful to cover his tracks, but he slipped up one day. And when that day came, he shifted the blame to my mom. Convinced them enough that they believed him when everyone knew my mom would never steal a penny.”

Your mouth fell open when he audibly exhaled, a broken sound. “Bucky… I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“They didn’t kill her, but they nearly did. She couldn’t even see me when I showed up because her eyes were so swollen. She was hardly breathing,” he continued in a hurt tone, pulling his hand free of yours to remove the glove from his left hand. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you the night he showed up at your apartment. His hand was made out of some sort of metal. “Lost my arm getting her out of there.”

He held it out so you could touch it. “You lost your arm?” you asked, your fingers grazing the metal ever so gently. You had never seen anything like it.

He shuddered. Could he feel that? “It was worth it for the woman who brought me into this world, raised me, and loved me unconditionally,” he said without regret. “And my dad? He just kept whoring around, and told his associates that she had to learn her lesson the hard way. He couldn't admit the truth.”

Your eyes misted over. How could his dad do that to his mom? To Bucky? “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked rapidly and you wondered if he had tears in his eyes, too. “It took her a long time to recover and she never fully did, but she tried to make the best of it. She still had her spirit, and kept her distance from my dad in our home. Some of my friends even made sure my dad wouldn’t go near her,” he said, smiling wistfully. How could she handle staying there? Was it for her son? “Because she never fully recovered though, I almost lost her again over four years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Before I answer that.” He shifted to face you, awe in his eyes. “Have you ever saved a life?”

“What?” you asked, thrown by the question.

“Have you ever saved anyone?” he asked again.

“No, I’m not a hero. I…” you trailed off before a vivid memory filled your mind. “Actually, I did once.”

“Yeah?” he asked, but he sounded as if he already knew.

“Yeah. There was this older woman walking across the street with a friend or relative one day, I’m not sure,” you said, wincing when he gripped your hand. “Bucky, you-”

“Tell me what happened,” he begged.

“She stopped and put a hand to her head while her friend kept walking. I could tell something was wrong and before I knew it I rushed toward her and grabbed her hand when she started to collapse. I pulled her out of the way just in time before a speeding car hit her,” you explained, remembering it like it was yesterday. Your heart had raced so fast when she crumpled in your arms. “Her friend understandably freaked out and flagged a car down to take her to the hospital. She kept thanking me for saving Winnie, but I was still worried about her.”

“Winnie.” Bucky swallowed hard and loosened the hold on your hand. “That was her name?”

“Yeah.” You gave him a strange look when he inhaled sharply. “I stopped at the hospital to donate flowers like usual and I asked one of the doctors I knew pretty well if anyone named Winnie had checked in. I knew she couldn’t tell me yes or no and I didn’t have any other information to give her, but I did ask if she could make sure she got a vase if she was there.”

“Did you ever see her again?” he asked, his voice thick.

You nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I did. I went back maybe a week later and she spotted me by chance as she was being wheeled to her room. She said I could stop in if I wanted to, so I did,” you smiled softly. “She said my flowers brightened up her room and I asked how she knew they were from me because I never put my name on the cards. She said she just knew. I made sure to bring her flowers the next time I visited.”

A sniffle pulled you from the memory and Bucky looked like he was trying hard not to break down. “You kept visiting her?”

“I did. She didn’t always say much because she was tired some days, but seemed to like it when I read to her. Said her son liked to read to her, too, but I never saw him stop by,” you answered sadly. She was a kind woman and it broke your heart that she didn’t get a lot of visitors. “Then one day, her room was empty. No one could tell me anything. I don’t know if she went home or passed or what happened. It was like she just vanished.’”

“She was brought home before she passed away days later,” Bucky said, his hand shaky as he took his wallet out.

You stared at him. “How do you…” He said he knew you donated specific flowers to the hospital. The same kind of flowers you gave to Winnie. “Bucky, what are you-”

“I lied to you during our first date when I said I wish you could’ve met my mother. You did meet her and she did love you,” he said, showing you a photo in his wallet. It was a younger picture of Bucky. He looked full of life and the woman smiling was the very woman you pulled out of the path of the car. “You just didn’t know it.”

“Winnie…” you whispered, feeling like the wind was knocked out of you. “She was your mom.”

The kind woman you saved by chance was the mother of Bucky Barnes.

“Her full name was Winifred. I only visited her during off hours so it wouldn’t attract any attention. Used a fake last name for her records, too, so no one would know that a Barnes was in the hospital,” he said, tucking his wallet away. “She used to talk about this sweet woman who saved her and brought her flowers, but she couldn’t remember her name. With her mind slipping, it didn’t surprise me and I was too caught up in other things to fully look into it because I knew she was safe and this person didn’t mean any harm.”

Your mouth was agape, trying to process everything when he bitterly laughed. “You…”

“Dad never stopped by, of course. Not that I would’ve let him, the piece of shit.” His metal hand curled as anger flashed across his face. “And this person couldn’t have been like my dad and the cowardly men who thought it was okay to beat up a woman. Men like Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow, Jasper Sitwell.”

Those were some of the names Zemo mentioned. “Oh, my god.”

“You know, one of the last things she said to me was that she hoped I found my other half one day. To love her completely, hold her tight, and never let her go,” he said, an odd smile on his face. “I only wish she was alive so she could see us together.”

You gasped. He took those words to heart, twisted them into something dark and possessive. “I-”

“I told you that traditional dating never worked for me,” he cut you off. “Seeing you in my club, it all made sense as to why.”

You couldn't find the words, too lost to speak up if you tried.

“And imagine my surprise when I had my men look into you just to get facial recognition footage of you saving my mom on the street that fateful day. And footage from the hospital with you sitting there talking with her, bringing her happiness without asking for anything in return,” he said, cupping your cheek as you tried to get over the shock. “I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you, but that just solidified it more. You saved my mom, and gave me more time with her. That’s something that no one else could ever give me.”

Your lip trembled. You saved his mom’s life, gave him more time with one of the only people he seemed to love and respect. No, that couldn’t be. That couldn’t have been you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I had scared you enough. Would you have listened or believed me if I told you that so soon?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. You weren’t sure what to think anymore.

“Don’t you see now why I’m so desperate to keep you close? To keep you safe? Had I looked into it then, we could’ve met and been together this whole time,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours. “But it’s okay. Fate stepped in and brought us together now.” He traced your lips with his thumb. “We’re going to make up for all the lost time, and never be lonely again, Kotyonok. That’s a promise.”

Something fell apart inside you and you weren’t sure when you began to openly weep, but he silenced your cries with his lips. Maybe he was crying, too, you couldn’t be sure, but he held you tight against him and didn’t let go. You didn't fight him, couldn't fight him. You were the one who asked for answers after all and you got them, didn’t you?

And knowing what you knew now, walking away from Bucky was never going to be an option. He would never allow it. Fate wouldn't allow it either.

A lot to unpack there, lovelies! Bucky sort of behaved. He believes fate brought you together . What do you think? And what will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[stoopidpigeonxx]

The crews reactions to their partner saying they're too big/ I don't think it'll fit (they make it fit ofc) in a not dubcon way yk?

SAAAAAAGE IM KISSING YOU SO HARD ON THE MOUTH!!!!! I LOVE THIS. I LOVE YOU.

YES I CAN do THIS!!!

Curly

-one half of him feels really bad, the other thinks its the hottest thing in the entire world. -Obsessed with the way you squirm and whine when he presses the tip in. -When those pretty words leave your lips, 'its too big, curly!' he's over the moon. -"You need to relax, baby. I can fit, I promise.. deep breaths for me, okay? Gonna make you feel real good." -Praises you over and over if he manages to get fully inside. -"ooooh.. there we go, see? I told you.. there you go baby, such a good girl/boy.. Fuck you feel good." -if he can't, he'll just go down on you instead. There's always next time!

Jimmy

-Boosts his already massive ego. -Likes knowing that he's so big, you can't take it. -"Can't fit, huh? Poor thing. Can't take my cock. We'll make it fit, doll. Hold still." -Ruthlessly pounds you so you can get used to the feeling of it. (He's mean, y'all.) -"Yeaah, told you I could fit. This tight lil' hole can fit me, can't it? Mhm.." -If you just can't do it, he'll give up and get all pouty about it. -Might forgive you if you suck him off. Maybe. -Also, random thing, deep down I think he cares a little about your pain.. he doesn't wanna break his babydoll. But he's too stubborn.

Daisuke

(for the record, cis daisuke for this one. Sorry :b)

-absolutely flabbergasted. -him? too big for you? No way. -But you're squirming around and whining his name, pleading for him to slow down. -"I-im too big-? Fuck, sorry, I'm sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to stop?? We can stop, I'm sorry baby.." -panics. Doesn't want to hurt you. -Once you reassure him you aren't in any pain, he starts realizing how fucking hot it was, you telling him it was too big for you. -"Y'know, I think if we keep trying, it'll fit. At Least I think so, I dunno." -If it does, pound town!! -If not, that's okay. He'll go down on you to pleasure you instead.

Swansea

-so confused. -No one ever told him he was too big, yet here you are. -Almost thinks you're joking at first, but the look on your face says otherwise. -"Shit.. sorry, honey. Y'need a moment? I can wait." -Doesn't pull out, but lets you get used to it before going in further. -Goes gentle the whole night out of fear he's gonna hurt you. -"See? It fits. Fits damn good, too.. God.." -Gives you a little love down there for doing such a good job. <3

[ccccatttta]

hello ladies and gentlemen, i am here to show my marauders fancasts. this post will be long as fuck im afraid, but i have stuff to say. cheers!

james potter as michael cimino

PAPIIIIIRRHAWWWRWWGRA i mean ha. he's cute. mi gente latino

regulus black as choi beomgyu (txt)

my baby star candy, my sunshine, my everything. also! his voice is one of the prettiest things on earth and i totally think regulus would sing like that

sirius black as hwang hyunjin (stray kids)

he's so androgynous,,,, like if a man and a woman had a baby.

remus lupin as esteban kukurickza (actor)

these low quality ahh photos, this man is hard to catch fr. he IS remus lupin you can't change my mind on this + the actor knows we see him as remus and embraces it, god bless you kuku esteban

peter pettigrew as cooper hoffman (actor)

you guys have no idea how much my peter fc changes, it used to be lewis capaldi but i think i have finally managed to find the one for me.

lily evans as chapell roan (soloist)

she's unreal, she's the moment, she's everything. nobody other than her could be the icon lily evans is

pandora lovegood/rosier as namephyra on ig (model)

i say lovegood/rosier bc i like the hc where she's evan's twin, but at the same time i also like when she's a lovegood or a lestrange. elle fanning used to be my fc for sooo long (and i still kinda see it) but she has all the vibes i picture in pandora, and she's honestly so pretty i wanna cry

dorcas meadowes as nia sondaya (actress)

LOOK AT HER OH MY GOD LOOK AT HER, it took me so long to find someone who gives me dorcas vibes, like my girl isn't easy to find, but nia has this aura about her and it was love at first sight

marlene mckinnon as beabadoobee (soloist)

this is one of the og's (or it was when i came to the fandom) and till this day i can't picture anyone else, she's put a spell on me or something

mary mcdonald as bcsais_ (ig)

i don't know much about her, but every time i see another mirror selfie my heart stops for a bit, and that's the only way mary mcdonald should be perceived

evan rosier as casper von bülow (actor)

i know a great chunk of the fandom hcs evan (and dora too) as poc, and i totally see it too, however this little german boy.... oh the grip he has on me is out of this world, it also has to do with the fact he's on germany's skam (druck) and that immediately means i'm emotionally attached

barty crouch jr. as hayden (ig) or marlon noah (ig)

this is a tricky one, they are both so different but they feel like barty to me. lately i've been using hayden more but i do think marlon can make a comeback any of these days.

[extra] the black sisters <333

andromeda black as hwang yeji (itzy)

it's not a coincidence i chose yeji for andromeda and hyunjin for sirius (if u don't know, these two are by no means related in real life but they look so much alike and they even share the same last name, so they could be lost siblings). i do think that andy and sirius looked alike and that's what made them even more fond of each other, the fcs were sent by the gods themselves

bellatrix black as kim hyeong seo (bibi ; soloist)

i support women's rights and i support women's wrongs. hate her or love her, bellatrix has always been THAT girl and bibi is also THAT girl

narcissa black as kim minjeong (winter ; aespa)

i do believe that winter looks a bit similar to beomgyu and i do believe that narcissa looked similar to regulus, it's the genes guys, they are strong. she's so gorgeous i wanna sob in my hands till i die

these are all my fcs!, i haven't really thought about any other characters for now, these are my main guys and pretty much the only ones i read about.

this was exhausting lord, imma go take a nap, toodles!!!

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: I’m gonna give you a lot of creative freedom on this one! Any dynamic/gender/monster your heart desires. But I’d like some size difference, some stretching of a hole (which hole is up to you). If you want some ideas I’m thinking it could be hot if the top(s) and the bottom had a scene where the top is praising the bottom as they stretch them with a particularly big toy, the sub is sobbing but loving every second of the delicious agony (masochist af).

A promise on what’s to come

Ogre x fem!reader || size difference, dirty talk, praise kink, sex toys, (very light) degradation

When you started dating an ogre, you guessed he would be hung, but nothing prepared you for the reality of it.

He wasn’t only hung, but his dick was way above average ogre physic, too. He was too big, too wide, too long… There was no way you could take him, but you wanted to, you wanted to so very badly you almost cried yourself to sleep over it. He reassured you it was okay, your poor human pussy wasn’t ready for him… But you craved. And if one thing was true about yourself is that you were a hardworking girl that could get whatever she wanted.

So you worked for it. You worked really hard for it… And he helped.

You might be a size queen, but he had more than a little interest in seeing you stretched around big cocks. When you told him your intentions of working yourself up to his dick, he growled so loudly your walls vibrated. You smirked at him and teased about your little human pussy being stretched, and he growled again. By the time you showed him your new toy, he was panting and his dick was so hard you could see it clearly in his pants.

And then he got to work, and you ended up spread on a bed, with his big hands guiding your new toy inside of you. That wasn’t that big, less than half his size, but you worked to bigger ones…

Until he got you one that was just a tiny bit smaller than his own, the last step before being able to ride him until you felt him at the back of your throat. Until you could feel his insane amounts of come filling your insides until your stomach was distended and you were leaking… So close.

He growls when you take another bit. “Look at that! You are taking it so well, my love. Such a good girl for me, taking the toy, stretching around it so prettily.” His eyes are focused on your pussy, and you aren’t even sure if he’s talking to your or to your pussy, but you don’t care. You are stretched to the point of light pain, and your brain is short-circuiting already.

“Please, please, please… Let me come,” you beg. Your eyes are teary, and your breathing is erratic as he twists the toy around, the ridges along the shaft making you see stars when it rubs against your G-spot.

He chuckles, flicking your clit in a way that sends a spark of pain mixed with pleasure down your spine. Your eyes roll back into your head and you scream his name. “Not yet darling, is not in all the way. And what did I say before?” You blink at him, not sure what words are anymore.

“I- I don’t remember,” you whisper, your voice is fucked up after screaming and crying for what feels like an eternity but probably was close to half an hour as he worked you open.

He stops his movements at your response, and you whimper, a few tears escaping your eyes. “Think carefully, what did I say?” You try to reach for the toy and do it yourself, but he stops your hand, pinning it to the bed easily.

You think about it, you think about it really hard as a sob leaves your mouth. You need to come so bad. “That- That I could come when I got it all the way in,” you finally let out.

“That’s right! So smart and so good for me,” his praise makes you whimper. When he treats you like his dumb little human, your body reacts instantly, the condescending tone sending shivers of pleasure to every cell in your body.

“Are you ready for more, my love? Do you want to be good for me? My good dumb human?” He asks, the sadistic tone of his voice making you moan.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant as he feeds your hungry pussy a few more centimeters of the toy.

It’s so deep, so very, very deep. You can feel it in your throat, but you can’t look down, you don’t know how much is left and you feel about to burst. It’s like you are going to be ripped in two, but it’s so good you can barely keep your mouth closed as drool drenches the pillow and pleasure overruns any other emotion or sensation in your body.

Your ogre is whispering stuff at you, he’s complimenting your pussy, your bouncing boobs, your squeezable body… But you can’t barely process it, you can almost savor your orgasm, is so close you want to reach it with all your energy...

“Come on darling, touch that little clit for me, let me see how you please yourself around our new toy,” his words are lewd and hungry, making you let out a silent cry of pleasure as you obey.

Your fingers feel slippery and cold against your heated skin, you can feel yourself stretched around the dildo as you gather some of your own juices to rub your clit. He grunts when you do so, the hand around your thigh tightening and making you whimper.

It’s so deep and your fingers feel so good… It’s the best experience of your life, life altering… like every single time you try a new toy with him. It’s like it’s an improvement on the last one, and each time your brain is blown a little bit more.

You can’t even understand how it would be when his dick is finally in you, but you know it would change your insides forever, not only physically because it would definitely rearrange your insides, but also mentally imprinting himself in your deepest soul.

“Come on, my love, just a bit more and you’d be so full, so stretched…,” he lowers his voice to add: “and then I’ll fuck you for real.”

The promise in his voice at the same time he pushes the last centimeters inside of you make everything explode. Your brain disconnects completely, your whole body shaking as the most intense orgasm of your life rocks your reality and makes everything around you disappear. Maybe you are crying, maybe you are screaming your lungs out, or maybe you are silently drooling over the pillow as wave after wave of pleasure washes over your body like warm water in a cold day.

And when you come back to yourself, he’s not done with you. He never is. He’s hungry for your pussy the same way you are hungry for him.

The second you blink your eyes open he’s moving the toy inside, his sweet words a wild contrast with the way he’s moving his wrist to drive you insane. He fucks you with the toy until your insides mold against it, until you feel so open and exposed you are like a live nerve ready to be played with.

And good goddess does he play with you…

By the time he’s done with you, the bed is drenched in fluids and your pussy is painted with his come, a promise of what’s to come… his dick inside of you.

Reminder that you can suscribe to my Patreon and read a ton more stories starting at the free suscription!

[thegreatgatslin]

THREE'S A CROWD! (bllk x reader threesomes, 18+)

ღ SYNOPSIS: why choose between them when you can just have them both? ღ STARRING: nagireo and ryusae x reader (separate) ღ CONTENT WARNINGS: threesomes (duh), heinous smut, p in v sex, p in a sex, fingering, oral sex (f/m receiving), face sitting, overstim, no protection

ღ SEISHIRO NAGI AND REO MIKAGE: WE'LL MAKE YOU SAY YOU NEED US

somehow, what was supposed to be a cozy night in watching rom-coms has turned into a full-on makeout session with your two best friends. and with the way reo’s large hands are ghosting over the bare skin of your waist, and how seishiro’s deft tongue is exploring your mouth with a surprising fervor - 

you think it might turn into more than that very, very soon.

“fuckkkkk,” reo groans, kissing up the side of your neck, and you let out a pathetic whine as you feel his hard-on poking your lower back.

“you feel too good, jewel.” you feel a tugging at the waistband of your sleep shorts, and look down to see sei’s beautiful grey eyes, wide and full of want, and nod breathlessly, they’re off in seconds, and so are your lacy black panties.

and even as you feel two cold, long fingers poke at your sopping wet entrance, you feel hands pulling your thick sweater up - you’re not wearing anything underneath - exposing your bare breasts to the cool air of reo’s living room.

soon, you’re letting out the most wanton moans you’ve ever heard - seishiro is thumbing at your swollen clit as his thick digits piston in and out of your cunt, and reo toys with your sensitive nipples, kneading the soft flesh of your chest.

“i want you to sit on my face, angel,” sei rasps, and you oblige, positioning yourself over his waiting mouth. by now reo’s pulled sei out of his grey sweats, revealing all eight delicious inches of him that you immediately wrap your hands around, stroking slowly.

you look up at reo, who’s unbuckling his belt, and soon his cock is standing straight and proud before your eyes, reddened tip leaking with pre. he cups your cheek, eyes murky with desire. 

“won’t you help me out too, angel?” and you moan at his taste when he pushes his throbbing tip past your parted lips and tangles his fingers into your hair.

you cum from seishiro’s expert ministrations - what, twice? three times? you can’t seem to remember. and reo, feeling a little left out, has his turn with you later on, as sei sits to the side, fisting his cock lazily.

suffice it to say, the three of you did not watch that movie.

ღ SAE ITOSHI AND RYUSEI SHIDOU: GO WILD, I LOVE IT WHEN YOU'RE ROUGH

having both ryusei shidou and sae itoshi as your boyfriends is interesting at times, because they’re different in every single way. personality, playing style, love language. and that extends to the way they fuck you. 

though sex with them is always exciting and really good, you notice a recurring pattern in how they handle you:

they start off slow, they escalate much too quickly, and they end with a bang.

sae always has the first taste of you unless he’s feeling generous, in which case ryu will dive in between your legs eagerly and eat you out until your legs are shaking and you’re crying both their names out. sae is much more methodical; his tongue will circle your clit while he fingers you at an agonisingly slow pace, sucking your slick from his own fingers from time to time. (he never forgets to give ryu a taste, too.)

and while one of them is doing that, it’s inevitable that you’ll be taking care of the other. your mouth, your hands, your tits - any part of your body they can use to get themselves off, they’ll use. sae particularly enjoys watching you choke and sputter helplessly on his length, while ryu likes when you jerk him off with one hand as you brace yourself on his thick thigh with the other - especially if you’ve just had your nails done.

then comes the “main event” (though you could say the whole thing is eventful enough). sae is unashamedly an ass guy, especially when it comes to your ass, so that’s what he takes. ryusei is happy to have your plush cunt squeezing around him, and they fuck you roughly in tandem, uncaring of your overstimulation. 

they make out heatedly as you’re sandwiched between them, and somehow or other, they make sure you all cum at the same time. oh well - that’s what you get for dating both a horny demon and a perceptive genius at once.

a/n: *gulps* part two? yes, part two.

© thegreatgatslin || ✦ M.LIST ✦

[covenofagatha]

hello hello! it's been a full day or two since i popped by (i had to study. devastating, truly) and I've been SAVING your fics and making a point to not spoil myself before i read them.

anyway, i just finished them all in one go and.... wow. yes, i understand the influx of asks demanding happy endings because how dare your writing have me in a unrelenting grip of horniness and despair? horrible. it should only be the former /nm

stepmom fic was always one of my favourites and i was ecstatic that it was brought back to life with your incredible talent again ☺️

of course, no ask of mine is complete without a tiny worm. let me know what you think of this miss covenofagatha:

desperate agatha this desperate reader that.... what about desperate rio vidal?

(ft. mommy! agatha, babygirl! reader, g! p rio, choking like once, tiny tiny worm)

inspired by the chronicles of FFF and NNN with you and agatha, it's only right you give rio a shot (or not, ha) at it. after she's gone for particularly long without telling you both (again), the two of you decide it's time for her to get punished in her least favourite way: edging.

she doesn't take you seriously when you tell her, not believing her sweet little girl would be serious, but when agatha backs you up it dawns on her how screwed she is. one of you is... well. one thing. but when you two join forces? it's torture.

in the first week, it's surprisingly worse than she thought it would be. being gone for so long meant rio was already worked up, and she'd been looking forward to being all over you the moment she'd gotten home, but apparently not. for a few days, you and agatha work separately. agatha mumbles a few dirty words in her ear, about how she "must be so pent up, huh, my love?" while you tease her with a few easy flashes of skin here and there. it's astonishingly easy to get her riled up, and more than once rio has to excuse herself because she can't stop imagining the two of you touching her. despite this, she persists, snarking about "can't even do anything about me, huh?" all while having to rush off so she doesn't get hard.

the second week, she settles a little. at the same time, you and agatha team up to tease her. agatha's arms wrapped around rio as she pulls her possessively, you gently pressing kisses along her abdomen. she squirms, but because it's so soft and domestic she feels awfully bad about destroying it with how hard her bulge is straining against her boxers.

the third week is when it all goes downhill. rather than touching her, it's all about you and agatha -- fucking each other. in front of her. she feels like a voyeur, even though you two invite her to join you, but mock her regardless. it, humiliatingly, turns her on. the fact that the two of you fuck like bunnies (sorry señor scratchy) while she's in the bed, hearing you blatantly call her name while agatha coos that you're "mommy's good little girl" and that you're "so obedient, moaning rio's name like i told you to," as your mommy plunges two fingers into you.

rio holds out for a grand total of two (2) more days, each one filled with her having to camp out in the basement to avoid hearing your wet, desperate sounds of skin upon skin. what makes her break, however, isn't even contact with her cock. it's a combination of agatha and you taking one boob each in your mouths, licking and nipping gently, and agatha's hand reaching out to grasp her neck while you dig your fingernails into her back, and she keens loudly before exploding all over the sheets.

you pull back, stunned, while agatha scoffs in amusement. "i knew i'd last longer than you," she declares smugly, and rio growls once before she pounces.

-

short one this time! I've been thinking about bratty rio too but not sure what you think of that.... hmmm.......

unfortunately my workload from both my actual job AND my classes are steadily rising so i don't have the chance to type out my brainworms as much.. but please have heart and know i will always check this blog religiously, haha. all the best dear 💜

-lots of love, worm anon

Omg hey I missed you (but completely understand work and studying ugh gross)! I think we should just all settle in for a lot of horniness and despair which is such a good mix

I am absolutely obsessed with this brainworm oh my god thank you so much for sharing and I would actually be so down to write about this because fuck this is hot

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 44. ???

a/n: written part seems a bit short but shits gonna be brewing (i think) also the last name for lauren rhymes with the last name of an evil man i know so like. shit i just make up ppl based on my Enemies omfg…

you shouldn’t be doing this. you should be on your way to hybe right now to tell hanni that yujin solved her “problem” with her girlfriend. you shouldn’t have lied in the first place, really.

still, you’re out your dorm with something slightly presentable because you can’t show up looking like a bum to see the girl who dumped you over a year ago.

fuck. you think as you walk toward the cafe. fuck.

there's a growing worry about whether or not you'll be caught out with her, knowing that there's a bit of attention on you due to your popularity. it doesn't matter, you tell yourself, it'll be over quickly.

you walk in and the cafe is quiet other than the clinks of cups, conversation, and buzz of the espresso machine. scanning the room, there's a familiar figure that sits in the more secluded corner. you order a latte in hopes that it'll give you some good luck.

when the time hits 3:05, you sit in front of lauren, catching her by surprise. she looks more mature now, prettier (as much as you hate to admit), but there's a familiarity that weighs the air with too much left unsaid. you don't let any of it bother you, not yet.

"you look good," she says first, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

you exhale slowly, offering a polite nod. "thanks."

she hesitates for a moment, fingers tapping against the table before she speaks again. "I missed you."

you grimace. the words hang between you, waiting for something—acknowledgment, maybe. but you only lift your cup to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down.

"how are you and your boyfriend?" you ask, voice even.

she lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "still together."

of course. you nod again, as if it doesn't matter—because it doesn't.

"what do you want? and why are you in seoul?" you ask, tone vicious.

she traces her nail along the rim of her glass. "for work. i do modeling on the side."

the irony hits you, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a laugh.

"what?" she asks, tilting her head.

"that's so fucking ironic. you bashed me for doing music and now you're a model. are you playing with me?" you respond, though it 's not hard to believe that she is a model; she's pretty, it's not hard to see that. hating her guts doesn't erase that either.

she smiles, that same practiced, self-assured curve of her lips. "it's different. modeling is just a side thing for me. I'm still focused on my degree and getting a stable job. you know, something secure." she takes a sip of her drink, keeping eye contact.

it's backhanded, but you don't react. you simply nod.

"right." you say, your tone light.

you don't owe her anything—not a reaction, and definitely not an explanation. whatever this meeting was supposed to be, it's clear now that it isn't for closure. maybe just curiosity on her end. for you? it's just a reminder that some things are better left in the past; you should've seen hanni instead.

lauren places her chin on her palm, giving you the same look that she'd give you before a kiss or something more. you feel your heart sink and there's a strange, uncomfortable churn in your stomach.

"you look really good after all this time. all that fame did you good." she says, smirking. "it's no wonder I spent all that time with you. i really do miss it."

you freeze, unsure of how to respond.

she chuckles and reaches over, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears before sliding her finger down your cheek.

"you're lucky, you know?" she continues, "i can't believe you made it this far. maybe I should've reconsidered."

you scoff. "don't you have a boyfriend? stop acting like this."

"i always liked to tease." she grins, not fighting back when you put your hand on hers to aggressively push it back. "your reactions were always great—cute."

what are you still here for? you groan at her response, narrowing your eyes at her. she seems to be scanning you, looking for every emotion you feel through your eyes and twitch of your features. it's scrutinizing, and it urges you to bring the meeting to a close.

"i don't know what you wanted, or what you gained from this," you begin, standing up. "but if it was to make me feel bad again, then fuck you. and if you really thought you could coax me back into your life—you're a fucking idiot. i honestly don't want to hear from you again, don't contact me or anything."

her reaction consists of a mere chuckle, plus a shit-eating grin. you bite down on your back teeth and scoff again at her before leaving. you've never had a more confusing—and frustrating—interaction with her. what was the point? for her to bash you discretely? you tell yourself not to get worked up by it, but it made your blood boil.

—

masterlist ; previous - next

taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld @inybits @ynwrites

[ask-koopasbagatelle]

Cats. Seemingly aggresive but misunderstood, hiding, but when you actually respect them they'll be all over you. Also he likes anchoovies (istg i saw this on some comic book stripe and not pulling info out of my a-)

Good quills (he tends to break then when he's angry), something handmade, maybe some fancy coffee. He doesn't strike me as a gift receiving type because both s/i and f/o are royalty. He'd be happier with experiences than stuff he can just buy.

Stargazing. Nestling into his chest and listening to his heartbeat as the Skyland's stars surround us both.

He'd never complain, he's a hard worker. But he physically winces each time he turns the vacuum on.

Depends on the amount of sleep and caffeine he had lmao.

Toccata or 5th Symphony or really, any classical piece that would give me a near heart attack out of context

If he ever got interested in the internet he'd be a chronic twitter user, I'm afraid. He's already bickering with subordinates for the fun of it, imagine how much bullshit could he make up to watch the world burn

No. He is a romantic and stuff but he hates the concept that he never had agency over our relationship. He wants to feel it was our choice, not anybody else's

They'd be scared, for sure. I mean a humanoid meeting with their supposed enemy who is a huge koopa? As for IRL friends, I don't even want to tell them. Both in AU and IRL, I doubt there's many people who would get our bond.

My f/o carrying me in his arms, half asleep, leaning onto him like a lifeline.

enemies and lovers. We're in a politically messy situation, and need to keep up appearances

Navy blue, copper, wine red! Especially navy blue like his hair!

He'd keep things as brief as possible, but would be so awkward about it people would still be able to decipher that it's something deeper

Probably pigeons and doves. Beautiful creatures, that were abandoned for no real reason. Also because I follow him around whenever he has food/lh

He'd make sure to show his feelings, without overwhelming me. Making a day off in his job and fully focusing on me, playing the piano, getting flowers and whatever he thinks I'll need at the moment..

In public he only calls me by my name, but in private he has a whole bunch of pet names. I feel pretty timid about it too.. But trusts me, he always finds a new way to fluster me

Probably working together. He likes seeing me focused, and it makes it easier on both of us. Though we get distracted a lot..

He's persistent. It doesn't fade away after our honeymoon phase, it doesn't waver whenever we argue, When he sees I'm not feeling well and trying to hide away, he doesn't let me. He's attentive, he works on himself, and is the best anchor I couId ever imagine

My eyes. They're piercing and eerie for many, but he loves staring into them, watching the subtle changes even if I struggle with talking. Especially when I struggle with talking.

My kindness. This is something unnatural, especially to the Darklands where everyone is either mean, or pretends to be mean to not get eaten alive. He's often confused how I can be so nice to him even when he messes up, and I hope someday he'll fully be aware that all I need is him, for his personality, and not what he can(not) provide.

He'd draw with ink, and his sketch would be realistic. Probably doing it quickly when I'm not aware

no yes

White. Clouds, associating me with doves, my wings being white, porcelain, my white rabbit plushie..

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them? 

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online? 

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go? 

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o? 

What color do you associate with your f/o? 

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything? 

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most? 

How does your f/o show their love best? 

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.