#now i just have to go back through and fill out the ones i left out for everyone. . . .

[stylesispunk]

Blind faith | Series

priest!joel miller x nightclub dancer!reader

Synopsis: Series coming soon...

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 💌

Joel found you on a quiet evening when the chapel was empty, save for the flickering candlelight and the faint scent of incense clinging to the air. You were curled up on one of the wooden pews, arms folded beneath your head, chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep.

He cleared his throat, but you didn’t stir. He hesitated before reaching out, tapping your shoulder. “Miss?” His voice came softer than he expected. “You can’t sleep here.”

"Father, do you always wake up strangers like this?"

Your voice was thick with sleep, eyes blinking against the dim glow of the chapel’s candlelight. The air smelled of old wood, wax, and something faintly metallic, like rain on stone. You looked young like this, your face soft, but Joel knew better. You shouldn't be older than thirty.

"You can’t sleep here," he repeated.

Joel stood over you, stiff-backed, his fingers still hovering near your shoulder from where he’d tapped you awake. He shouldn’t have noticed the way your legs stretched across the pew, the way your blouse—too sheer for a place like this, shifted as you moved, leaving no place to imagination.

"Didn’t know God locked His doors at night," you mused, rubbing at your eyes.

Joel exhaled sharply. Lord, give me patience.

"This isn’t a shelter," he said. "If you need a place—"

"I'm not homeless" Your tone was firm, final. But there was something else in your voice too, something he couldn’t quite place, but it hinted sadness.

The world outside was changing. Women weren’t quiet anymore. They weren’t soft in the way people in towns like this expected them to be. And yet, there was something about you that didn’t fit the mold of rebellion either. You weren’t a girl searching for trouble. You were a woman who had already met it.

"I just got into town," you admitted after a beat, glancing toward the stained-glass windows, dark now with the night. "Didn’t know where else to go."

Joel studied you, his chest tightening. "Are you in trouble?"

A small, humorless laugh left you. "Depends on what you call trouble."

Silence filled the chapel, thick and unmoving. The rain had stopped, leaving only the distant hum of the highway beyond the hills.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said finally. But his voice had lost its authority, had softened just enough that he felt the weight of it settle in his own bones.

Because the longer he stood there, the clearer it became.

You weren’t just a woman passing through.

You were trouble to his faith.

And trouble, he knew, never left quietly.

And worse, he couldn’t ignore the way, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if devotion could save him.

warnings: age gap, religious conflict, crisis of faith, temptation, forbidden attraction, forbidden romance, eventual smut social expectations, night life themes, contrast between joel's and your world.

the story is set during the 70s.

masterlist in progress...

coming soon...

please, tell me if you want to be added to the taglist 💌

[iseriads-nonesense]

This sparked a thought. And here is the result:

For nearly three thousand years, the great dragon Vaelzryth had hollowed out the mountain known as Hearthpeak, carving vast tunnels, sweeping caverns, and spiraling chambers meant to be his lair. He had once been young, wild, and reckless, soaring down from his mountain perch to demand tribute from those below—threatening flame and claw, demanding riches, taking what he desired.

But even a dragon can grow wiser with age. As centuries passed, he realized that merchants and blacksmiths, travelers and nobles, all had something he could use: gold. Not just coin, but gilded artifacts, ingots, crowns, and statues. Gold was power, and if power could be bartered instead of stolen, why waste the effort of terrorizing those who could be convinced to bring it willingly?

So Vaelzryth changed. He struck deals, exchanged protection for wealth, carried merchants to distant lands on his back in exchange for their fortunes. His claws, once used for rending flesh, became the means by which he inscribed trade agreements, and his fire, once used to raze villages, was instead offered as a forge’s heat for the greatest of smiths.

Over time, his hoard grew. And grew. And grew.

He never stopped digging his home deeper, hollowing out every chamber, carving out halls meant to hold more, and more, and more. First, he filled his great vault. Then his personal den. Then the tunnels leading to them. He lost count of the ingots that piled atop each other like dunes, the coins that ran like rivers through the halls. The wealth he had once sought to possess now possessed him, swallowing every inch of the mountain.

And then, one day, Vaelzryth left to stretch his wings, to take in the skies as he often did, and when he returned, he realized something terrible.

He could not get back inside.

The entrance, once a towering gateway into the heart of his domain, had been buried under the weight of his own greed. He landed before it, golden eyes narrowing as he swept a claw against the vast mound blocking his way. Coins spilled, an avalanche of wealth tumbling down, but it was useless—there was no clearing a way through.

He tried another entrance—one he had carved high upon the slopes, a narrow shaft leading into the deepest chambers of his hoard. But when he reached it, he found it just as impassable, choked with the same golden flood.

A growl rumbled in his throat, and for the first time in centuries, he felt a twinge of something foreign. What now?

He paced. He muttered. He thought. And as he sat there, perched atop a mountain that was now a fortress of nothing but gold, he realized the absurdity of it all.

I have spent three thousand years amassing this hoard, he mused, and now I cannot even enjoy it.

For days, he brooded upon the summit, glaring at the sky, snapping at the wind. He refused to admit it was a problem—he was a dragon, and dragons did not have problems. Dragons were problems. And yet here he sat, locked out of his own hoard by his own hand, with no solution in sight.

Then, a thought.

A wild, impossible, utterly mad thought.

If his wealth had trapped him, then perhaps it was time he let some of it go.

At first, the idea repulsed him. Give up his gold? The very thought was sacrilegious. But then, what good was it if he could never reach it again? Slowly, reluctantly, he began to devise a plan.

He sent word to the merchants he had once traded with, to the kings and lords who still whispered his name in awe and fear. He offered a gift—not a demand, not a deal, but an outright boon. Chests of treasure, artifacts lost to time, statues of pure gold—all to be taken from the endless hoard that now imprisoned him.

In exchange, all he asked was for the hands of craftsmen. Dwarves, humans, elves—those skilled in stone and steel, in architecture and artifice. He called upon those who had once feared him and those who had once revered him, and for the first time, he did not ask for gold in return.

The response was immediate.

They came in droves, some hesitant, some bold, some awed by the sheer impossibility of what they saw. They carved new pathways, tunneled new halls, reshaped the mountain into something livable rather than just a vault of greed.

And in doing so, they built something else—something new.

A city.

Not of man, nor elf, nor dwarf, but something entirely unique—a place where all who had aided in the great reshaping could find a home, a stronghold that was part dragon’s lair, part golden metropolis.

And at the heart of it all, Vaelzryth remained—not a king, not a tyrant, but something more.

A guardian.

A patron.

A dragon who had learned, after three thousand years, that wealth was not meant to be hoarded—it was meant to be used.

Aliens would be weirded out by fiction or fantasy

So I KNOW this one has been done, but it bears repeating cuz the idea of it is HILARIOUS.

We wanna write/draw a fictional world, we just sit there starring at screens or a blank sheet of paper for HOURS vividly hallucinating intricate and complex universes that have never happened before and usually couldn’t happen in reality, with laws of physics that follow no known law in our existence. Imagine a species that’d didn’t really get it, say they’re more practical and less inclined to whimsy, a real no nonsense type of aliens.

Alien: human what are you doing?

Human: I’m thinking

Alien: about what?

Human: how a dragon could hoard so much gold it fills a mountain

Alien: …is that a normal occurrence on your world?

Human: what? No, I’m writing short stories for November. It’s a fictional creature, they don’t exist on earth. Think those big reptilian things on Trigor 7 and you’d be close tho, except they have wings and breath fire

Alien: that is inherently worse, I would not like to think about that at all ever again. Why would you want to inflict such a terrible idea on another sentient entity?

Human: I mean…mostly for fun

Alien: …deathworlders *shakes head and sighs*

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au to celebrate the Merlin tag randomly trending recently! Enjoy! :D

This au starts at the Disir episode, arguably one of the biggest turning points of the entire series: when Arthur refuses the Disir's deal of where returning magic to the kingdom in exchange for Mordred's life. Well, what if Merlin himself was the one injured by the Disir? Merlin would survive, of course, but Arthur did not know that.

And, without Merlin there to advise him, Arthur was left following the only compass he had at the moment: his heart. And, for once, his heart's message was loud and clear: he could not lose Merlin. He took the time that the Disir gave him to think over their offer, but his mind was made up the moment that the three prophets offered him a chance to save Merlin.

As Arthur accepted the Disir's conditions welcoming magic into Camelot again, ignoring the horrified looks on the faces of the knights surrounding him, the three sorceresses grinned, but this time their smiles were far less menacing than before.

"You have chosen well, young king," One of the three began.

"You have passed the test put forth by you by the Goddess, and for that, she shall ensure your kingdom's prosperity," Another one replied, their voices overlapping and bouncing off of the stone walls of the cave.

"And my manservant will be safe? He will recover, right?" Arthur asked, trying desperately to rein in the panic that bleed through his voice.

"Yes," all of the Disir said softly in one voice, "when you return to Camelot, you shall find him there alive and unharmed."

The tension in Arthur's shoulders eased for just a moment before the prophets spoke again.

"To ensure your compliance with your vow, the goddess demands that you establish a connection to the Old Religion: an unbreakable bond that will forever tie you to its power."

Terror and panic shot through Arthur's body again at their words, a familiar dread filling him. The Old Religion always demanded some terrible price, and now Arthur had to pay one himself. He steadied himself before replying.

"What do you mean by that? What type of bond do you speak of?"

The Disir all turned to look directly into his eyes, their gazes so piercing that Arthur felt like he had been pinned in place by their eyes alone. When they spoke, it felt like their words were reverberating around his skull with their intensity.

"To seal your agreement, the Goddess demands your worship, but not towards her own self. It is the will of the goddess that you dedicate your worship and devote yourself to the god you have disrespected most grievously, the god that your father futilely attempted to wipe out entirely. The goddess wishes for you to worship Emrys, the god of all magic and lord of the druids."

Arthur winced as the name echoed inside his mind, almost chanting 'Emrys, Emrys, Emrys'. Arthur was so preoccupied with trying to gather his own thoughts that he almost missed the quiet, shocked gasp that Mordred let out at the name.

"This is your task, your debt to be repaid for the life of your servant. Devote and submit yourself to Emrys, Arthur Pendragon. Embrace magic in Camelot." Disir continued speaking as one, their voices piercing through Arthur's very thoughts so powerfully that he physically winced and stepped back with their force.

Finally, the sorceresses finished their speech, and Arthur took a few second to calm his own mind and reply.

"I... I understand. If my servant truly is unharmed upon my return to Camelot, then I shall do as you ask."

The horrified stares from the knights felt even heavier as Arthur agreed to the Disir's terms, forcing Arthur to stare straight ahead at the three cloaked figures to avoid their gazes.

To his surprise, the three Disir gave a short, but formal, bow to him, and disappeared into the air with a short "Go in peace."

Arthur stood frozen in the cave for a few seconds, as if a part of him was petrified by what he had just agreed to. The cave itself was near-silent, the only noise breaking through the tension-filled air was the quick, panicked breathing of his knights right behind him.

Finally, after Arthur no longer felt like he would break apart into tiny pieces at the slightest movement, he turned around, facing the knights, who all looked just as frightened and shocked as himself.

Well, all of them except for one. Instead of staring at Arthur with absolute horror, Mordred was looking at him with something that bordered on wonder. Arthur opened his mouth to ask Mordred why his reaction was so different, but the clamor of all of the knights suddenly descending upon him and demanding to know what was he thinking taking that offer? drowned Arthur's question out.

The only knight who hadn't descended upon Arthur in a frenzy was a surprisingly somber Sir Gwaine, who took hold of a momentarily overwhelmed Arthur's shoulder and steered everyone towards the cave's exit. Arthur caught the usually jovial knight's eye and saw approval and some sort of grim gratitude.

Ah, Arthur thought as the other knights berated him for his decision, Gwaine understood. These other knights, besides Mordred, were not of his inner circle. These ignorant knights thought that Arthur was giving up his kingdom for just any servant, but of course, Gwaine knew better. Perhaps, if the admiration that he had caught sight of in Gwaine's eyes whenever they looked in Merlin's direction was any indication, Gwaine knew exactly why Arthur had agreed to the Disir's demands so easily.

There's wasn't anything that Arthur wouldn't do for Merlin.

And that included overturning the ban on magic and inviting the Old Religion into his kingdom, into his soul, for Merlin's sake.

Arthur stayed silent on their return journey, and the knights' pestering slowly died down as they realized that Arthur was not listening to them. As they made camp for the night, Arthur was again lost in his thoughts, worried about the state that he would find Merlin in upon his return and anxieties over fulfilling the duty now put on his shoulders.

Arthur was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Mordred approaching him, walking slowly over to where Arthur sat, perched on a log and staring into the campfire.

Arthur startled slightly as the younger knight sat down next to him, his face oddly peaceful in contrast to the rest of the knights'.

"I know that the others will object, but I think that you made the right choice."

Mordred spoke softly, in a heartfelt voice that Arthur had never heard from the newer knight. Still, while it isn't quite as reassuring as Merlin's approval would be, Arthur appreciated Mordred's support.

"If I may, sire, I..."

Arthur watched, still silent and deep in thought, as Mordred trailed off, searching for the correct words for whatever he was trying to say. Arthur tried to give him a small, reassuring smile, but his internal turmoil and anxieties for the future twisted it into something more akin to a grimace.

"You know that I grew up among the druids, and I spend my childhood worshipping the gods of the Old Religion, even if I feel more distant from them as the years have gone by. Should you need any assistance or advice to fulfill your new duties, I would be happy to assist you."

Arthur's eyes widened at Mordred's words. That's right, he had almost forgotten that Mordred was the very same druid boy that he had rescued so many years ago. And if Mordred grew up as a druid, then he would know...

"Mordred, what do you know about Emrys? What can you tell me about him?"

If Arthur was going to be dedicating the rest of his life to a god of the Old Religion, he should at least know about said god's reputation, right? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps having more information on this Emrys would ease Arthur's dread just a bit.

To Arthur's surprise, Mordred brightened at the question.

"Of course! Emrys is a prominent god of the Old Religion and is of special significance to the druids. He's considered to be something of a divine king to most druid clans, including the one I grew up in. He's not just the ruler of all magic, but rather magic itself."

Arthur nods shakily, trying to take in what Mordred had told him. If Emrys really was some sort of king, perhaps he could be negotiated with? Arthur was far more familiar and comfortable negotiating with foreign kings than he was at appeasing a god.

The night went on like that until dawn, with Arthur asking questions and Mordred answering and telling tales of Emrys: his power, his mercy, his blessings.

Arthur was particularly interested in the story of how Emrys struck down one of his own priestesses with lightning for harming a kind old man who was under his protection. Based on Mordred's stories, Emrys seemed to be protective and to do well by those who followed his commands.

What would he make of Arthur, then? The man who had been a leader in the slaughter of Emrys's followers? Would he damn a man who had cut down those who prayed to Emrys for protection?

Who was Arthur kidding? If someone went around killing everyone who was under Arthur's protection, they would be tried and executed without hesitation. Why would Arthur expect any different from the god who was a king to the druids?

Arthur's dread and anxiety built as they reached Camelot again. Would Merlin truly be healed? What would happen when Arthur had to uphold his end of the deal? Would he be forced to leave Camelot to enact Emrys's will? Would his own agency be taken away, his body being made a puppet for magic itself?

(Even as such horrific scenarios flew through Arthur's head, if Merlin was saved, then he couldn't bring himself to regret what he had agreed to.)

As they rode through town and approached the citadel, Arthur's heart pounded in his chest with twisting dread.

Arthur's joy upon seeing Merlin waiting for him in the courtyard, with color having return to his face and relief shining in his eyes, barely overtook his dread for what was to come.

And that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed this au, and please let me know if you'd like to see a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[leighsartworks216]

With Bated Breath

Sylus x gn!Reader

Sometimes I think about their fucked up childhoods and have to cry in a corner about it

Based on this post

Warnings: fluff, light angst, sickfic, fever, cuddling, references to homelessness and death

Word Count: 829

Main Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus stirs awake, shifting where he lay on his stomach to watch what appears to be a blanket-monster approaching the bed. Quilts, furs, throws - gathered into one pile and now dropped to be on the unoccupied half of the bed. The person carrying them is gone before he can ask. He settles back into a comfortable position, stretched out like a cat in the sun, and quickly drifts off again.

He’s woken up again who-knows-how-long later. His heavy eyelids crack open to watch you, sitting on your knees on the bed with your back to him, shifting the pile of blankets and a series of pillows around as quietly as you can. With a cursory glance, he also notices the hoard of snacks, juice bottles and water bottles at the foot of the bed.

“What’re you doing, sweetie…?” he murmurs. His voice is low and raspy.

If you’re startled, you don’t show it as you look at him over your shoulder. “You’re sick.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “So you’ve decided to build a pillow fort while I sleep?”

You huff, feigning annoyance, but there’s something else beneath it. A softness at the edges, betraying genuine concern. It’s so hidden - shoved deep down beneath your usual façade of neutrality and disinterest. He can’t help wondering why.

You shift around the pillows some more, adjust a blanket here and there. It’s like watching a bird build a nest. When you’re finally satisfied with your handiwork, you open the blankets and sit back against the pillows, propped up against the headboard. You continue to hold the blankets open expectantly, nodding your head to your lap.

With nothing being explained to him at all, what more can he do besides follow what you want?

Grunting, he lifts himself up and crosses the distance, slipping under the blankets with you. Your lap acts as his pillow. You cover him with the blankets, tucking him in in a way completely foreign to him, carefully ensuring that he’s covered up to his neck and that no air can get in.

“You’re really doing all this just because I’m sick?”

You run your fingers through his hair. His back tenses, then relaxes, giving in to the sensation. It’s so easy to let go; hugging your waist, tucked in and warm, comfortable - he’s never been safer.

His hair is damp from sweat. His skin burns with fever. Goosebumps raise on his arms. You don’t seem deterred by any of it. You press your cool hands to his forehead and the back of his neck. Your fingers nimbly massage at his tense muscles. It’s hard to believe you’re capable of something so soft after the things he’s witnessed you do.

“I was worried,” you admit quietly.

He chuckles. It’s not as rich as usual, but it rumbles through him just the same; like thunder rolling over distant hills. “It’s just a cold, sweetie. I’ll be fine in a couple days.”

You’re silent. You scratch gently at the base of his scalp, drawing a sigh from the man. “Get some sleep.”

It’s an easy order to follow. You’ve managed to provide him all the comforts he could ever wish for. Admittedly, it’s a bit unusual for Sylus. He’s never been doted on like this. His whole life, he’s never really had someone to hold him or take care of him before. It seemed like such a weakness. Something left behind closed and locked doors, where no one can find him. He can see the appeal now.

In mere minutes, he’s dozing off. His breaths are even. The quiet rasp of each inhale and exhale fills the air. His mind teeters on the precipice of unconsciousness. Dreams and reality converge in a haze. The only thing that keeps him from slipping under is a voice, so soft and so unfamiliar it registers with the same level of danger as a high-level Wanderer sneaking up on him in the dark. Fortunately, his reflexes are slowed by his fever, because half a second later, he recognizes who’s speaking.

It’s you.

“Please don’t die…”

You whisper it into his hair with a light kiss, before it’s brushed away by your fingers. But you sound so… scared. Like a child. Like you’ve done this exact thing before - created a nest of blankets and a hoard of food and drinks, held someone in your arms… and they died.

You’d never admit it, if you did. That life is far behind, and you’d both promised that it will remain there. You’d never know his childhood and he’d never know yours. But he knows enough to guess.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t give away that he’s actually awake. Instead, under the pretense of stirring in his sleep, he holds you tighter, tucks himself closer, and stills with a sigh. He can only hope, as he finally falls into a world of dreams, that you do not anxiously wait with bated breath to make sure he makes it through.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08

[lov3notts]

rewritten

theodore nott x reader

summary: part 3, can Theo fix things between you two? after so much heartbreak can you give him a second chance?

a/n:im sorry this took so long, I got hit with writers block and discouragement, hope you guys like it!!

Navigation; masterlist; request rules; part 1; part 2

Mattheo had seen Theo at his lowest before. After brutal duels, after fights with his father, after sleepless nights filled with too much firewhisky and not enough self-preservation. But this? This was different.

This wasn’t anger. Wasn’t recklessness.

This was nothingness.

Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it had the answers to all of his problems. His dorm was a disaster—papers scattered, books left open, untouched meals sitting cold on his desk. The only movement in the room came from the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Mattheo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed."Mate."

No response.

"You look like shit."

Still nothing.

Mattheo sighed, running a hand through his hair before stepping further into the room. "Alright, fine. You wanna sit here and wallow, go ahead. But you do know this isn’t sustainable, right?"

Theo didn’t even blink.

"Skipping class, not eating, shutting everyone out—what’s the end goal here?"

Silence.

Mattheo clenched his jaw, patience wearing thin. He walked over and grabbed a book off Theo’s desk before chucking it at him. It hit his shoulder, but Theo barely reacted.

That pissed Mattheo off.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" he snapped. "What, you’re just gonna waste away in here? That’s your big plan?"

Finally, Theo shifted. Slowly, he looked up, his face pale and hollow. His voice, when he spoke, was rough. "What do you want me to do, Mattheo?"

"Oh, I don’t know—anything but this?" Mattheo gestured around the room. "You’ve made some stupid decisions before, but this? This is pathetic, even for you."

Theo let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Pathetic. Yeah. That sounds about right."

Mattheo exhaled sharply, dragging a chair closer and sitting across from him. "Listen, I get it. You fucked up. Big time. But wasting away in here isn’t gonna change that. You want her back? Fight for her. You want to move on? Then do it. But don’t just sit here acting like your life is over because she walked away."

Theo’s eyes darkened. "It is over."

Mattheo froze.

It wasn’t the words that shook him—it was the way Theo meant them.

"You don’t get it," Theo muttered, voice raw. "She wasn’t just some girl, Mattheo. She was everything. And I ruined it. I ruined her." His fingers dug into his knees, knuckles white. "So tell me, what exactly am I supposed to do now?"

For the first time, Mattheo didn’t have a quick response. Because fuck—he didn’t know.

He had never seen Theo like this before.

But he did know one thing.

"You need to talk to her," he said finally.

Theo scoffed, shaking his head. "She won’t listen."

Mattheo leaned forward. "Not if you keep sulking like a bloody ghost. But if you really love her? Then you have to at least try."

Theo swallowed hard, his walls cracking just a bit.

Mattheo sighed, standing up. "Look, I can’t force you to get your shit together. But I can ask for help." He glanced toward the door. "If you won’t go to her, maybe she’ll come to you."

Theo’s head snapped up. "Mattheo—"

"Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle," Mattheo said with a smirk, but there was no humor behind it. "Just sit tight, yeah?"

And with that, he walked out, leaving Theo alone with his demons.

The days after your fight with Theodore Nott were oddly quiet. Not because the world had stopped moving, but because a part of you had. No matter how much you tried to push forward, his words still echoed in your head.

“it was just a bet!”

Now, you were sitting in the Great Hall, trying to focus on your breakfast when a presence loomed over you.

"Can we talk?"

You glanced up and met Mattheo Riddle’s gaze. His usual smirk was absent, his dark eyes serious. That alone sent a chill down your spine. Mattheo never looked serious.

You hesitated. "Depends. What about?"

He exhaled sharply and took a seat across from you without invitation. "It’s Theo."

Your stomach twisted, but you masked it with indifference. "Not my problem."

Mattheo scoffed. "Yeah, well, that’s the thing. He’s not exactly making himself anyone’s problem anymore. He’s barely eating, hasn’t been to class in days, and I haven’t seen him leave his room since—" He stopped himself, but you knew what he was about to say.

Since you left him on his knees in the library.

You forced yourself to take a bite of toast, despite suddenly losing your appetite. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

"You don’t have to do anything. But maybe… just talk to him?"

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "You do remember that he completely shattered my trust, right? That I was just some game to him?"

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I know, okay? I know he screwed up. And if you never want to see him again, I get it. But…" His voice lowered. "I don’t think he’s okay. I don’t think he will be if someone doesn’t pull him out of whatever the hell he’s drowning in."

That made your chest tighten. No matter how much Theo had hurt you, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t care. But did you care enough to reopen old wounds? To look at the person who betrayed you and risk getting hurt all over again?

Mattheo must have seen your hesitation because he leaned forward, his voice softer now. "I wouldn’t be here begging if I thought he could fix this himself. But he can’t. And like it or not, you’re the only one who can get through to him."

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the table.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea.

But deep down, you already knew what you were going to do.

You stood in front of his dormitory door, your hand hovering over the doorknob, the air thick with uncertainty. You’d come here, but now that you were standing here, the doubt crept back in. Was this the right choice? Could you really face him? Could you even talk to him without everything you felt rushing back—without everything he did rushing back?

You knocked softly, but there was no response. The quiet only made the pressure in your chest grow. Hesitant, you slowly turned the knob, and to your surprise, the door creaked open.

The room was dim, only a few rays of light slipping through the curtains. And there, in the middle of the room, was Theodore Nott. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with an unreadable expression. His body was curled into itself, as if he were trying to shrink away from the world.

A pang of guilt surged through you. You wanted to turn away, to run, but you couldn’t.

Your feet moved before you could stop them, one step at a time, until you were standing beside his bed. You swallowed hard, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "Theo?"

His head snapped toward the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with shock. His expression froze as he stared at you—like he was afraid, as if seeing you might be some cruel trick. His eyes, so full of confusion and fear, shimmered with unshed tears.

"Y/N?… You came?" His voice was barely a whisper, like he didn’t believe you were really there.

A wave of emotion washed over you, but you pushed it down, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mattheo said you weren’t doing well.”

Theo didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, as if your words hadn’t even fully registered yet. His eyes searched your face, every line of his body tense, too afraid to even move, like any sudden movement would make you disappear. You could see how broken he looked, how much he wanted to believe this wasn’t just some dream.

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, as if trying to find the right words, or maybe wondering if words even mattered anymore.

You glanced past him into the room. It was a mess—books scattered, clothes thrown carelessly, a tray of untouched food on the desk. It smelled like stale air and something heartbreakingly lonely.

You hesitated before speaking. "This isn’t you, Theo."

"I don’t know who I am without you," he admitted, voice raw.

You turned to him sharply, something inside you cracking at the sheer honesty in his voice. "Theo…"

"No, let me say this."He exhaled shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. "I know I don’t deserve to ask for anything from you. I don’t deserve to stand here and beg, but—" He cut himself off, pressing his lips together like he was trying to hold himself together.

And then, quietly, "I don’t know how to exist without you."

Your breath hitched. "You were the one who broke us, Theo. You made that choice."

"I know." His voice cracked. "And I hate myself for it. Every second of every day, I regret it. The bet, the lies, all of it—it was the biggest mistake of my life."

You swallowed, arms tightening around yourself. "Then why did you do it?"

"Because I was a coward." He let out a bitter laugh. "Because I had you—this brilliant, beautiful, impossible thing—and I was terrified that you were too good to be real. That I would love you and you would leave, so I ruined it before you could."

His confession left you breathless.

You had spent so long believing you were never enough for him. That you had been nothing but a game. But hearing this—hearing that he had been just as scared as you had—made your chest ache.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Theo whispered. "But I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I need you to know that I loved you. That I still do."

You blinked, eyes burning. "Theo…"

"I would move mountains just to be with you again," he continued, voice shaking. "Even if it takes years. Even if you never look at me the same way again. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that you were never just a bet to me."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden, and Theo’s breath stuttered like the sight of your pain was physically hurting him.

He reached out instinctively but stopped himself, his hands hovering inches from yours. "Tell me there’s still a chance." His voice was barely a whisper. "Even if it’s not today. Even if it’s not soon. Just tell me I haven’t lost you forever."

You stood there, heart hammering, torn between the pain of the past and the boy in front of you—broken, vulnerable, real.

This was the moment.

The moment where you could walk away, close the door, leave him to his regret.

Or you could stay.

You took a breath.

And then, finally, you spoke.

The first few days after you left his dorm were the hardest.

Theo had promised you he’d fix himself, that he’d become better—not for you, but for himself first. But promises were just words, and words had never been enough. Not when he had already shattered your trust once.

So, for the first time in weeks, he forced himself out of bed.

It wasn’t easy. The weight of his mistakes clung to him like a sickness, making even the smallest things feel impossible. Eating felt pointless. Attending class felt meaningless. But he did it anyway. One step at a time.

At breakfast, Mattheo raised an eyebrow when Theo sat down at their usual table, his plate only half-full.

"Didn’t think I’d see you out of that damn room anytime soon," Mattheo muttered, nudging his shoulder.

Theo didn’t respond right away, just picked at his food before finally saying, "I need to fix things."

Mattheo huffed out a short laugh, though there was no malice behind it. "Yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Theo didn’t have an answer yet. But he knew one thing—he couldn’t keep being this version of himself. The one who wallowed in his grief, who drowned in guilt without trying to swim to the surface.

So, he changed.

He stopped avoiding the world. Stopped shutting people out.

He went to class, even when his mind screamed at him to go back to bed. He studied harder than he ever had before, pouring himself into books instead of his own self-loathing. When his friends spoke to him, he actually listened instead of shutting them out.

He even picked up his journal again, spilling his thoughts onto paper in a desperate attempt to make sense of the chaos inside his head. He wrote letters—ones meant for you, ones that would never be sent. Some were apologies, some were confessions, but all of them were real.

But it wasn’t about getting you back.

It was about becoming someone who deserved you.

Someone you could trust again.

Weeks passed before he saw you again.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t fate. It was just life forcing their paths to cross like it always did.

You were sitting by the Black Lake, your nose buried in a book, completely lost in the words. He should’ve walked away. Should’ve kept his distance. But his feet betrayed him, halting a few steps away from you.

You must’ve felt his presence because you looked up, your eyes meeting his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Theo braced himself for the worst—coldness, anger, maybe even indifference. But instead, you studied him, like if you were trying to figure out if the person standing before you was the same one who had broken your heart.

"You look… different," you said softly.

Theo swallowed. "I had to be."

your gaze didn’t waver. "Why?"

"Because the person I was before didn’t deserve you."

Something flickered in your expression, but you didn’t look away. You just nodded, your grip tightening around the book on your lap.

Not forgiveness. Not yet.

But something.

Weeks turned into months. Theo didn’t push, didn’t force his way back into your life. He just showed up.

Not in the obvious ways. He didn’t beg or plead. Didn’t bombard her with apologies. Instead, he proved himself in the quiet moments.

He helped first-years struggling with their potions when no one was watching. He started paying attention in class, excelling in subjects he used to neglect. He let people rely on him, let himself become someone trustworthy—not just to you, but to everyone around him.

And then, when the time was right, he left something for you.

A book.

Your favorite one, sitting on the library table where you used to study together. But inside, tucked between the pages, were letters.

Dozens of them. Some dated weeks ago, some written only days before.

You hesitated before picking it up, flipping through the pages. And then you saw the first note.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry One

Date: The Night You Left

I haven’t stopped thinking about the look in your eyes. The way you froze. The way your breath caught like I had knocked the air out of you.

I keep telling myself that if I had just shut up, if I had just walked away instead of letting my anger win, you’d still be here. But I didn’t. I let the worst version of myself take control, and now I have to live with the fact that the last thing you heard from me was a lie.

Because that’s what it was. A lie.

You were never a bet.

Not for a single second.

You were the first thing in my life that ever felt real. The first person who looked at me like I was worth something. The first person I ever truly, fully loved. And I threw that away. I let my pride, my temper, my own self-destruction take over, and I broke the one thing I never wanted to lose.

I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if I can. But if I have to spend the rest of my life proving to you that what we had—what we have—is real, then I will.

Even if it’s too late.

��Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 2

Date: One Week Without You

I see you everywhere.

In the empty chair across from me in the library. In the spaces between my fingers where yours used to fit. In the quiet moments where your voice used to live.

And I wonder—do you miss me at all? Do you hear my name in whispers? Do you reach for me in your sleep? Or am I just a scar you’re waiting to fade?

If you told me to wait for you, I would. I would wait for days, for months, for years—as long as it took for you to believe that I never meant those words. That you were never a game to me. That you were the only thing that ever made sense in my life.

But you haven’t told me anything.

So I wait anyway.

Because I can’t imagine a world where I ever stop hoping for you.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 3

Date: Two Weeks Without You

I should’ve told you how beautiful you looked in the mornings, when your hair was a mess and your voice was still laced with sleep.

I should’ve told you how your laugh could pull me out of my worst days, how it became the sound I searched for in crowded rooms.

I should’ve told you that loving you scared me. That it made me feel like I had something to lose for the first time in my life.

I should’ve told you that the night we had our first kiss, I went back to my dorm, sat on my bed, and smiled—just sat there, grinning like an idiot, because I knew, in that moment, that I was done for. That you had ruined me for anyone else.

I should’ve told you that I loved you more than I loved myself.

Maybe if I had, you’d still be here.

-theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 4

Date: three Weeks Without You

You probably don’t know that I still sit in the library, right where you left me. Not every night. Just the ones where I can’t breathe.

You probably don’t know that I reread our old notes, the ones we used to pass back and forth in class. I keep them in my bag like they’re sacred, like they’re proof that once, you laughed with me. That once, I wasn’t just a mistake to you.

You probably don’t know that every time I hear your name, my hands shake.

That I’ve started keeping a list of all the things I should’ve done differently.

That I miss you in a way that feels like it might kill me.

But the worst part?

You probably don’t care anymore.

And I deserve that.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 5

Date: The Day You Knocked on My Door

I thought I was dreaming.

I heard the knock, but I didn’t move. I figured it was Mattheo, coming to drag me out of this room again, to remind me that I’m still supposed to be alive, even when I feel like I’m not.

But then I heard your voice.

And suddenly, I was alive.

I was shocked to see you. Not because I didn’t want to see you—I ached to see you—but because I was afraid. Afraid that I had imagined it. Afraid that you were here just to tell me, to my face, that you were done for good.

But you weren’t.

You were there.

Standing in my doorway, looking at me like you didn’t recognize me anymore. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I really am just a shell of the person you once loved.

You didn’t say anything at first. And I didn’t either. I was too busy memorizing the way your hands twitched at your sides, the way your lips parted slightly like you wanted to speak but didn’t know where to start.

And then, finally—"Mattheo said I should talk to you."

Your voice was quieter than I remembered. Or maybe I had just forgotten what it was like to hear it so close.

I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted to fall to my knees again and beg, to tell you that I haven’t slept, that I haven’t breathed right since you walked away, that I would do anything to rewrite the past.

But instead, I just nodded.

Because I knew this wasn’t my moment to fall apart. This was your moment to decide if I was worth saving.

So I stood there.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Daring to believe that maybe—just maybe—you hadn’t given up on me yet.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 6

Date: One Month Without You

I don’t just want your forgiveness.

I want your trust. Your laughter. Your sleepy morning voice. The way you roll your eyes at me but secretly smile when you think I’m not looking. The way you say my name like it’s something safe.

I want you.

And I know I have no right to ask for that.

But if there is even the smallest chance—if there is even the tiniest sliver of hope that you still look at me and see something worth saving—then I will not waste it.

I will prove it to you. With every breath, with every action, with every single moment I have left in this life.

Because I love you.

And I will spend a lifetime making it right.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

At first, your hands tremble. The pages feel heavier than they should, like they’re carrying all the weight of the past, of everything left unsaid, of him.

You tell yourself you’ll just read one. Just a glimpse. Just to know if he even cares.

But then one turns into two. Then three. Then all of them.

And suddenly, you can’t breathe.

Because this isn’t just guilt. This isn’t just some empty apology, some desperate attempt to win you back with words. This is raw. This is pain. This is love.

This is a boy breaking himself open, spilling every ugly, unspoken truth onto paper because he doesn’t know how else to reach you.

And God, you feel it.

You feel it in the way his handwriting shakes in some letters but steadies in others, like he’s fighting himself, like he’s trying to hold on and let go at the same time.

You feel it in the confessions he never said out loud—the ones about how he saw you in everything, how he would’ve moved mountains to take it all back, how he doesn’t just want you to forgive him, he wants you to trust him.

And when you read the last letter—the one about how he would spend a lifetime making it right—you realize something.

He never stopped fighting for you.

Not once.

Not even when he thought he had already lost.

And then, with your chest so tight it almost hurts, you look up.

He’s already watching you.

Theo looks like he’s barely breathing, like the moment is too fragile, like if he moves too fast, you might disappear. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time—something that almost makes your throat close up.

Hope.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting. Letting you decide what happens next.

And for the first time in a long time, you realize…

He means it.

Every word. Every promise.

The silence between you stretches, thick with everything unsaid. The letters are still clutched in your hands, his words lingering in your chest, pressing against the pieces of your heart that you swore were too broken to be put back together.

Theo swallows hard. His hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. "Say something," he finally murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. "Do you really mean it?"

He doesn’t hesitate. "Every word."

"And you’re not just saying all of this because you miss me? Because you feel guilty?" Your voice is careful, guarded—because this has to be real. If you give him your heart again, there’s no surviving if he shatters it a second time.

Theo steps closer. Not too close, but enough that you can see the raw desperation in his eyes. "I’m saying this because losing you was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Because I was an idiot, and I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself for that." He pauses, his breath shaky. "But more than anything, I’m saying it because I love you. I never stopped. And I never will.*"

Your heart clenches painfully. "Theo…"

"You don’t have to say it back," he cuts in quickly. "You don’t have to promise me anything. Just—" He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. "Just tell me there’s a chance. Tell me I haven’t lost you forever."

You look at him then, really look at him. He’s not the same person he was that night in the library. He’s not the boy who let pride and recklessness ruin the best thing in his life. He’s different. He’s trying.

And that’s when you know.

You step forward, closing the distance between you. His breath catches as your hand brushes against his—light, hesitant, but enough to make his whole body go still.

"I’m still angry," you admit softly. "I’m still hurt."

Theo nods, his jaw tightening. "I know."

"But…" You take a breath, steadying yourself. "I believe you."

His eyes widen slightly, like he wasn’t expecting those words. "You—"

"I believe that you mean it," you clarify. "And if you’re really going to prove it—if you’re really going to fight for this—"

You pause, feeling the weight of this moment. Then, finally, you say the words that make his breath shudder.

"Then I’m willing to try."

For a second, Theo doesn’t move. He just stares at you, like he’s afraid he imagined it. But then—

"You won’t regret it," he swears, his voice cracking slightly. "I swear on everything, I won’t waste this chance."

And when he finally, finally takes your hand—holding it like it’s the most precious thing in the world— you let him.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

tag list: @simp-for-fantasy @nottinmyheart

[neovillains]

DEATHBED | PART THREE.

( NO INTEGRITY : FUSHIGURO TOJI ) you never typically accepted male clients, but after being the only one left in the office, you let your fear consider your safety. and now... you're kind of grateful for it. | watch time: 4.0k words.

── perverted gilf!toji fushiguro & esthetician!reader, fem-bodied!reader (s!her pronouns), toji gets a manzilian, high age gap, bribery, sadomasochism, facial, masturbation, oral fixation, blowjob/deepthroating, dirty talk, features esthetician!geto suguru, etc.

notes. i had so much fun writing this tee bee ayche. i want toji to cum all over my face. n e weighs... we almost done ! one more chapter to go !

gojo satoru | nanami kento | sukuna ryoumen

You never really took in male clients. It’s something you made sure of early in your career of being an esthetician. It only took one man to put the entire gender on the hard no list. However, as this older man stands in front of you, hazel green eyes that intimidate and should send alarms through your mind, you’re contemplating on making an exception. From his ID, he’s in his late seventies. He should be mature enough to handle what he’s requesting— a manzilian. 

Looking at the clock, it’s inching closer to six p.m., when you’re supposed to be clocking out for the evening. The clerk having left already and leaving you to your lonesome, anxiety spikes within you and being your sole reason for why you’re even considering scheduling an appointment with him. You inhale through your nose, exhaling through your mouth. You glance at his idea once more, reading his name as you’re typing his name into the system— Fushiguro Toji. 

Then, you’re glancing up at him. Salt n’ pepper hair, and lines underneath his eyes that show his years. His eyes pierce into yours, still waiting for you to confirm it. He cocks up an eyebrow, impatience growing inside of him. “Are you usually this slow?”

“Sorry,” you say under your breath, eyes going back to the screen as you click on the calendar, checking the most available slots. You grumble to yourself when you see that you have an opening just for tomorrow at five. You consider lying, but rationally, you know it would be better to get this over with quickly more than anything else. “I have tomorrow at five available. Is that fine with you?”

“Yes,” he answers curtly.

“And if you’d like,” your eyes light up when you see your male coworker also has an opening alongside your name, taking the opportunity. “Our male esthetician is open—”

“You’ll do just fine.” Your heart drops. You can tell that this man means what he says and that any type of persuasion would be shut down. But, you still try. 

“Are you sure?” you continue. “You might find yourself more comfortable—”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine with just you,” he interjects once more. The corner of his lips rising and when you look at that scar, anger fills you. You’d love to make it deeper. 

Of these years that you’ve been an esthetician, you think you’d have grown a backbone. You thought you had, but whenever issues with clients came up, you always had someone else along your side to back you up. Right now, that desperation to go home and the fear of being the only worker inside the building runs all sense away from your mind, making you too afraid to stand up for yourself in the possibility of experiencing any harassment. So, as quickly as possible, you type in the information you need, asking him for his form of payment before he slides his debit card into your hand and you click confirm. 

“Just check to see if you’re received a notification that your appointment has been scheduled and you’ll be all set for the night,” your voice is higher than typical, looking up at the man behind the desk and watching as he pulls out his phone. You can’t help but notice how veiny his hands are, littered in melanated dots as he swipes across the screen. When he sees the text in regards to the appointment, he gives a curt nod and a grunt. “Got it.”

“Great,” you say, letting out a deep breath as you reach for your handbag and head towards the door. “Well, have a good night! I’ll be seeing you tomorrow evening.”

However, as you reach for your car keys inside of your bag, you can still feel his calling presence over you. “You’re closing up, right?” 

“No,” you lie. “Our last esthetician’s cleaning up around back.”

“Hm,” he huffs, silently calling your bluff, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “Let me walk you out. It’s getting dark out.”

Oh, your eyes widen. That was the last thing you were expecting from him. Though, you still hesitate, glancing outside of the building. You typically park in the closest parking spot. Who wouldn’t? It’s very convenient, but it’s coincidental how you were running late today and someone else managed to snag your habitual spot. Now, you have to walk a fair distance to your car. “Thank you.”

The walk is silent and he never says anything to you, simply waiting for you to unlock your car door. He opens it for you, watching you drop your bags onto the passenger seat before getting inside yourself. Good night, he told you before shutting the door and walking away, never giving you a moment to respond back. As you start up your car, you wonder if your judgment has been misplaced. Maybe your appointment with the man wouldn’t be as bad as the nightmare stories you’ve heard and experienced. 

—

When you’re finished with your second to last appointment, you glance at the clock. You have fifteen minutes to prepare for your last appointment for the day, something you’ve been anticipating to get over with so that you can go home. Sanitizing the bed and cleaning out the wax melter, you’re surrounded by silence before leaving the small room. Conveniently, Geto Suguru— the only esthetician to work in the afternoon alongside you— is in the main area. Pulling off his gloves before glancing at you, he motions you to follow him. Bringing you to the side, a look of concern washes over his face.

“I can’t believe you accepted a male client,” eyebrows scrunched together, he gets straight to the point. “Why didn’t you mention to me that someone came in after I left? I would’ve come back to handle it.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with that,” you explain. “You were probably at home by the time he came in.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” Geto says. “You know I’m willing to drop everything if you need the help. We’re here for each other.” 

“Don’t worry, Sug,” you try to calm his worries. “I’m just going to hope and pray that everything goes smoothly and try to go as quickly as I can.”

“I’m going to wait for you tonight,” he says, leaving you nowhere to argue. Nonetheless, you try. 

“Sug,” your shoulders drop, exasperated. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t have to, but I will.” Just as he says that, the bells to the door jingle. You hear Geto’s deep sigh. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear—” In a low voice, Suguru whispers. “—That’s him, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, nudging him. “And go home—” you point. “—don’t wait for me.”

He doesn’t say anything, but underneath your skin, you know that there’s no way that he actually listened to you. Toji’s eyes are on you and you put on a bright smile. “Good evening. How’re you?”

“I’m doing alright,” the older man answers simply. You check the time, realizing you only have five minutes before his appointment officially starts. And instead of taking responsibility, you blame your lack of preparation on your coworker. Damn, Sugu. 

“That’s great,” you chirp. “Give me around five minutes and I’ll call you back to get started.”

He nods silently before finding a seat in the waiting area.  You put some pep in your step, heading back into the room and getting everything ready. Though you did the brunt of what you needed to do, you wipe down the bed once more heading to the door and poking your head out, you meet his sitting stature focused on the running television. 

“Fushiguro,” you call his last name out, catching his attention. “I’m ready. You can come on back.”

Leading him inside, you hold the door open for him as you gesture to the bed. “I remember you briefly telling me this isn’t your first time getting a manzilian, but would you like for me to do a brief rundown of what to expect?”

“If it means hearing more of your voice, then that’s alright with me, love.” The sentence catches you off guard, making your heart plummet to the pit of your ass. Your body stiffens up as you turn yourself away from the man so you don’t have to look him in the eye. The way he had said it so seamlessly makes your skin crawl. You feel a bit foolish to have dropped your guard simply because he offered to walk you to your car last night. Letting out a breath, you ignore his sentence. 

“Because you’re an older man, it might be more painful for you, so I’ll try to be as gentle as possible, but—” After your brief rundown of the expectations, you give him a bit of privacy before coming back inside. You change into another pair of gloves before reaching for the thing of wax and the strips. The thin veil of the paper-like cover rests over his lap as he lays patiently on the bed. You just want to get this done as quickly as possible. “Are you ready? First, I’ll be cleaning you up first, but do you feel prepared for me to start the entire process?”

Mhm is his only response before you’re asking him to rest his feet up. “At any point, you want to stop, just let me know.”

“I’m pretty sure with hands like yours, you’ll be treating me very sweetly,” he says. “Don’t worry, dear.”

Drowning out everything, you lift up the veil before pausing. Over the past couple of years, you’ve taught yourself to keep up a stoic expression, keeping yourself as calm and collected as possible. However, you can feel your eyes widen ever so slightly and you feel like the most unprofessional esthetician ever just at the fact that you’re gawking over this older man’s appendage. 

When he walked in last night, you had taken into account his build. You can tell that in his younger years, he did extensive workouts and deeply cared for his body. He was handsome for his age and you can tell that he knew that. He was silent, but there was a silent stir of confidence within him that you couldn’t ignore. And even now, while you’re stagnant, you can feel a heat of confidence building up inside of him. Still, however, you never look as you’ve calculated inside of your head that he’s at least eight inches, probably— most likely— bigger than that. And you don’t like how you feel something in the pit of your stomach, and it’s not due to discomfort. 

Just like you’d typically do, you clean him up. When you feel a tremor from his leg, you pause and finally look up. “Are you alright?”

“You can keep going,” he says, not directly answering your question. Shoulders dropping as you try your best to relax, you continue. And it’s apparent, the erection that’s building up as you clean his pubic hair. You’re gentle and careful with every move you make, noticing how his chest rises every time your glove-clad hands graze his length. It’s strikingly silent that it’s killing you. Typically, you liked to spark up conversations during your client’s appointments, but what were you to say to a man that’s getting hard from simply being cleaned?

After you finish cleaning him, you dispose of the cloth before switching into another pair of gloves. Reaching for the wax and the strips, you pause. “I’m going to start waxing. Just like before, let me know if you’d like to stop at any point.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says gruffly.  And with that, you adjust his legs before setting the wax onto the strip. A sense of haste runs over you as you plaster on the strip and then quickly ripping it off. It was your preferred method as the shock seemed to make it less painful. Majority of your clients liked that you said no warning and just ripped it off. 

It seemed to be the same way for Toji. Despite the curse muttered from under his breath, his cock jumped as a strip of hair was extracted from his skin. You glanced up, waiting for him to say anything, but he never did. Continuing forth, you noticed how his tip started to leak pre. You tried to ignore it, but you started to subconsciously go slower, which only seemed to be fortunate on the older man’s part.

Toji should feel some shame within him. To insist on you giving him a manzilian and for the blatant flirting he’d throw your way on occasion, but fuck, he doesn’t. The feeling of your hand against him, gently cleaning him before hastily pulling at his skin with no sense of TLC. It only continued to spark that heat within him, making him painfully hard. Precum leaked through his mushroom-shaped tip and he didn’t feel any sort of humiliation for it. He was a man and for him, this was normal. However, while he usually didn’t need anyone to touch his length directly, he was yearning for more the more you went on.

Your moves were getting slower and it was as though you were edging him now. Gnawing at his bottom lip, when he felt your hands touch at his pelvis, finally clearing off his inner thighs, he felt a pathetic sense of desperation run through him. “How much would it take?”

“Huh?” He had evidently caught you off guard, causing you to retract. 

“How much could I pay you,” he started, “to let me masturbate?”

Halting all actions, you nearly knock over the thing of melted wax. You stumble to catch it, making the older man chuckle. “There's no reason to make a mess now. ‘S just a simple question.”

On the other side of the door, the moment that Geto heard the slight fumble, he was quick to his feet, standing behind the door and knocking on it. “Everything alright in there?”

You curse to yourself, your coworker’s voice not doing anything to settle your nerves. “Yeah, Sugu. Just clumsy as always.”

There’s a pause before he responds, “Alright.”

When you no longer see the shadow of Geto’s shoes from under the door, you let out the breath you were subconsciously holding. “Don’t tell me you had a guard dog out for me. I’m not gonna hurt you, love.”

“I don’t know that,” you answer truthfully. “If you want, you could probably kill me right now.”

“Probably,” he doesn’t deny. “But, you’re not dead right now, so that should let you know all you need to.”

You look him in his eyes and then back to his hardened length. He chuckles before you could truly contemplate and dissect what he’s asked you. “How much?”

“Is there a possibility that I can say no?”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t have a few extra bucks in your pocket.”

“75,000 yen.”

“45,000,” he quips instead.

“70,000.”

“50,000.”

“60,000,” you watch his eyes squint, considering it. He nods, “Fine.”

You watch as he knocks off the veil, letting it slowly fall to the ground before wrapping his fist around himself. The size of his hand makes him seem small. He shudders, his hands feeling like ice against his cock as he waits. It calls for confusion from the both of you as he waits expectantly. “You can continue.”

“Continue what?” He finds your moment of idiocy to be adorable, making him chuckle once more, “Continue waxing me.”

“That’s unsanitary,” you start. “You could possibly start bleeding and I—”

“This entire situation is unprofessional and I could have your license revoked,” he finishes for you. “Would you prefer that instead? Don’t worry, if I bleed, I won’t report you, love.”

You slouch forward, reaching for another strip and trying to continue as if your client isn’t palming at his cock as you try to maneuver around him. Your hands start to shake as his fist moves up and down. He’d stop ever so often to rub over his tip, smearing the precum around it. So copious as he causes his length to glisten. 

You don’t like how you feel yourself growing aroused, clenching around nothing as you wonder what he’d feel like inside of you. And he finds your squirming to be adorable as you try desperately to keep yourself together as you rip hair from his skin. You could’ve finished a long time ago, but you’ve come to enjoy watching this. You won’t admit it, but you find it intriguing how a man finds pleasure in pain and there’s a boost of confidence within you knowing that you’re the one inflicting it. 

There are points in time where Toji would stop, feeling himself close to releasing. His hands would be back to the base of his length as you’d pull another strip. It wasn’t until you were on your last spot that he finally decided to let go. His balls would slap against his fist every time it came down and the wetness of himself jerking off while he was being waxed sounded the room. He wondered if your coworker could hear and he wondered that, if he did, what was stopping him from interfering?

And the possibilities that coursed through his mind only egged on his impending orgasm. Your touch rivalled between rough and soft. When your glove-clad hands gently rested against his thigh before the next hand pulled at the wax strip, it was all that it took for him to release. 

Your gasp was high-pitched, the feeling of cum hitting your spray as Toji’s head hit the bed in relief. He didn’t care, simply continued to aim for your pretty little face and you let it happen. Again, a next set of knocking came to the door. Geto, again. “(Y/N), are you sure you’re alright?”

You didn’t want to sound annoyed, knowing that he was only looking out for you and your well being, but you did remember telling him that you would be fine. “I’m alright! I just nearly burnt myself.”

“Shit,” you can hear from the otherside, a set of keys following that sent your heart racing. “Do you need help? Is it bad?”

“No,” you answer. You’d feel embarrassed to have him walk in on you in this current predicament, and it’d go against protocol. “I said nearly. I’m alright.”

Checking the time, it’s almost been an hour. With a sigh, you just want Geto gone. “Look, I understand why you’re staying late and I appreciate it, but I really am fine. Just go home. If I need help, I’ll call this time, okay?”

When he doesn’t answer, you ask again. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs. “Have a good night.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When there’s silence, your older client chuckles. “You should've run him off a long time ago.”

You don’t answer him, watching as he comes to sit up before you place a hand against his chest. Your heart starts racing as you take into consideration what you’re about to do. “Wait—” despite his release, you can still see it. He’s still hard. Pulling off your gloves and aiming them towards the trash, your fingertips graze his shaft. “—Let me…”

You don’t have to say anything more before he gives you the okay and he’s leaning right back into position. The corner of his mouth, where his scar is, twitches upward. Looking down at you like this, he finds you so pretty like this. This young esthetician’s face was covered in his seed, and now she’s offering herself up to continue on the session. He’s never gotten to experience this, quickly believing he’s found himself a keeper. 

You reach for the hand that was previously connected to his cock, noticing the droplets of cum still staining them. You’ve become bold in the timespan, holding eye contact when your mouth opens and your tongue lulls out to clean off his fingers. Plump lips wrapping around the digits and suckling on them until the only thing that’s coating them is your saliva. When they’re nice and clean, you’re dipping to his length. 

Your dominant hand takes hold of it, your heartbeat picking up as you’re still incredulous to the sheer size of him. You pause, taking in a deep inhale before your mouth opens once more. You can still smell the stench of wax, the years of working making it ingrained in your senses that it nearly overpowers any bad body odor. Toji watches how your lips wrap around his thick cockhead, how your eyelashes flutter upwards to look at him. 

To think that the previous night, you were trying to ship him off to that long-haired brooding esthetician and now, that fear is leaving you to the point where you offered yourself up to him. He feels triumphant as he feels arousal leak through his tip once more, but this time, on your tongue. “I bet that pretty pussy of yours is all wet.”

He’s right. Your panties cling to your pussy, a wet patch well formed from the past hour and only worsening now that your lips are around his cock. His hand reaches to caress your face before it travels to the back of your head. Your hair combed into one, he grips at the band and forces you to take more of him. He lets out a breath, “Saw the way your cute body was squirming around watching me. All you young girls are just sluts nowadays, I swear. You’re the only one who holds no shame in it.”

He pushes your head down until your lips are at the base, the head of his cock, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. The corner of your eyes prick with tears before he’s pulling you off and giving you a chance to catch your breath. 

“Ah,” he tsks. “Seems like I gotta train your throat to handle me. You’ll take down that stupid rule of yours, right? Just for me?”

You nod, inhaling deeply as your chest rises and falls. Toji chuckles. “Good girl. I’ll probably have to train that pussy, too, it seems— wrap your hand around the base.”

It’s so seamless how he goes to throw commands at you, and it should be embarrassing how obedient you’ve become. Doing as told, you don’t waste a second to wrap your mouth around him once more. However, he takes all control and fucking your mouth like you’re just a toy for him. 

You’re grateful that Geto left, not wanting him to hear what’s happening behind closed doors and how you’ve gotten yourself in this predicament. The man’s cum has long dried up on your face, but fuck, he’s imagining the possibility of making it messier. This time he has his imagination running rampant as he uses your mouth to get off. And you’re imagining the possibility of him filling you up, spurting his load in you as you let this old man take advantage of your body. 

His veins protrude, blue highlighting his skin in lines as he uses his strength to use you. Weakly, his hips rise to meet your lips as he’s enveloped by your wet warmth. This orgasm is all too quick to approach him and he has no intention to stop, feeling how your grip has tightened around the base. 

“Fuck,” his voice is guttural and raspy. “Gonna cum in your mouth, and you’re gonna swallow, right?”

You mumble around his length, but that short nod is all he needs. The vibrations sent waves through him and called for his release. You feel the way his cock twitches inside your mouth before tasting the salted seed kiss the back of your throat. And just like he asked, you’re swallowing him as you feel his grip on you weaken before finally letting go.

Gradually, you remove yourself from him and catch your breath, your chest rising and falling in a rushed rhythm. When the both of you have cleaned yourselves up, you leave together. Though, when Toji goes to walk you to your car, he squeezes your ass before holding the door open for you and leaning to whisper in your ear, “That pussy will be the next thing I claim the next time we meet, alright?”

Nodding, you whisper out a ‘yes.’

Bidding you a good night, Toji leaves you to your lonesome. When you get home, you make a small change to your rules.

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[writingwisterias]

Ruined

Part 2

Kidnapper! Leon Kennedy x AFAB!reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DNE, SMUT MDNI, Dub-Con, Sonomphila, Oral (F receiving), Cow-Girl, Unprotected Sex, Degradation Kink, Implied Abuse, Manipulation, Light Intox Kink, Isolation

Read Pt1

Taglist: @rigorwhoring

had a thought couldn't shake it = pt2, Lighter on the tags this time but only going to get worse ;)

Nature was your only chance for a brief moment of peace, being able to watch the water flow freely in front of you from where you perched on a fallen tree without the fear of anything. Most of your fight had left, the fear of him doing something worse lingered in the back of your mind. His strength seemed endless like there were no limits he wouldn’t go to just so you understood that he can easily overpower you. Nothing in this situation was fair and it never will be so you have accepted that you should just deal with it. You had still yet to see the full extent of your kidnappers' anger – it wasn’t like you wanted to, after all curiosity killed the cat. With how obsessed he was with you it wouldn’t be like him to go that far. At least you hoped not. It was a good thing, you suppose, that his tolerance was high you guess. 

If you sat here for long enough it was like you almost forgot where you were or why you were here. The nature changed around you, fresh leaves appearing on the tree now that spring had come around. The leaf litter being broken down by the mushroom colonies that had now appeared, their spores dusted the air giving the rays of sun an ethereal look. Occasionally animals would appear on the other side of the stream, the new babies drinking for the first time. You were just enjoying the sounds and sights of your new home you suppose, it wasn’t one that you wanted but it wasn’t terrible. It was nice to be here, like this. Until you heard the twig snap - his boots thudding on the floor as he approached you. 

The plant life squashed, its future growth now relied on its own will to live. 

“It’s getting dark now,” Leon said from behind you. One of his new rules he’s implemented. No time after dark, not when he nearly had a heart attack when he couldn’t find or see you. The orange sky was your warning. You didn’t reply to him, you never needed to say anything after all what he said was final. You’ve had enough handprints on your skin to learn that lesson. At least he was gentle this time as you walked through the door, his hand was holding yours softly instead crushing each bone. 

“The sky’s pretty today” You said, watching the ground carefully as you walked next to him. Shoes were still a privilege you have yet to earn back after the last attempt to escape a few months ago so the last thing you needed was a thorn or cut on your foot if the opportunity did present itself. Leon nodded, stopping on the porch to observe the orange hues. They were always his favourite. It didn’t matter if the sun was rising or setting - if he saw them it meant he survived to live another day. 

You watched carefully as his eyes scanned over them, his features calm as they fluttered shut. He looked peaceful – thankful even. “Don’t you think? I always liked the sunset” You prompted. He glanced over to you. He always did this, like he still didn’t fully trust you since your last escape. Trying to find any hidden meanings in your words.  His grip tightened ever so slightly, afraid in his moment of weakness you might dash away again. Still never fully convinced you wanted to be here, like you were hesitant. 

Upon entering the cabin you could already feel the heat of the fire, the crackles filling the room. The dinner he had made was already set out in front of you, vegetables he had gone out to collect, the ones from the garden not quite ready yet. Venison that he had also previously hunted. 

You hated the way that smell was becoming familiar, feeling like home to you after so long being here. Dinner as usual was eaten in silence, he preferred it that way. Spending his time making sure you actually ate everything until he began to eat himself. Once the clinking sound of your cutlery against the plate was heard you would be allowed to speak again. “There were a few animals at the stream today” You spoke watching him as he began to eat. 

He was methodic and gentle as he used the knife on the steak, scoring his lines in the meat before pressing harder to carve it. The actions mimicked familiar situations you have been in with him. The scar was now angry and red, you caught it in every window reflection or the bathroom mirror. A branding of where you belonged, like a horse or cattle to a cowboy. “What kind?” He asked, his eyes bore into you but they never really seemed interested in what you had to say exactly. More like he enjoyed the simplicity and domestic feel of the evening. “A few deer and rabbits. If I stay quiet enough they linger”

Your nails picked at the skin on your hand, your once perfect ones now were often seen with bloodied scabs. Despite your acceptance of your situation, the doubts and guilt you once had with your forgotten life are now gone – you still grew nervous in his presence. His control and dominance never faulted, always masking an element of him that you knew haunted him. It always slipped when darkness greeted him, when he was forced to sleep. His mind is plagued by nightmares of a side of him you didn't know about and he hoped you never would. After all he considered you his salvation, the only good thing he has managed to protect and gain. Conversations like this, despite his lack of interest, meant a lot to him. 

“Maybe I should take you hunting with me then” Leon commented. Everything was always so violent with him, something innocent like watching animals always involved death eventually, little do you know that his whole life has been violent. Apart from the slither of love you have given him during sex it’s all he’s ever known. You smiled and nodded, not exactly agreeing but the idea of seeing more of the surrounding area is tempting. You never got far enough in your times of escaping, the trees always looked the same beyond the stream. “What’s it like? Hunting I mean.” You asked anything to stop the impending silence that lingered if the conversation went dry. 

Leon always assumed you wouldn’t be interested in stuff like that. He would never admit that he hunted in a way to keep himself trained around a gun, after all anything could happen. “Peaceful” 

Seeing him describe such a violent act like this made himself cringe, he had never liked the idea of death. He’s seen it far too often but Leon was a provider – a career. You needed to eat and he had the skills to make sure you have plenty of what you needed. Maybe showing more of the beauty that surrounded you would make you happier. Keep that smile that showed itself very little, there a while longer. That meant it was easier for you to gather your surroundings. It had only been a season since your last escape. You promised not to fight anymore but he saw the way you hesitated still when he kissed you. You grimace as you look upon the mark he left on your chest in the mirror. 

The hesitation was still there and until he got rid of it you would be limited. You didn’t need him to explain his answer further, it would open up questions you were sure would get you punished in some way. Instead you both continued to clean up, manoeuvring around each other like a practiced dance. Your hums filled the air such a sweet tune he enjoyed so much. He watched as you lost yourself in your own mind watching the night grow closer through the window. He wondered where you were, wanting to know every thought you had and collect it like a dream journal. You jumped when you felt his lips on your shoulder, sucking the skin softly no doubt leaving another mark. 

His touch was always so confusing. His lips were demanding, greedy to devour your sweet taste whilst his hands were gentle as they lifted you onto the kitchen counter. His fingers dug in the flesh of your thighs as he pried them apart, the nightdress you wore hitching up towards your hips as you displayed yourself to him. Leon nibbled at your thighs, each bite slowly growing closer to your clothed cunt. Yet, when he reached his destination he only smirked, eyes flicking upwards to see your face. Your brows pinched in pleasure, your teeth tugging on your lips silencing your whimpers as if they were a shameful thing to do. 

Like it was such a terrible thing to enjoy what pleasure he treated you with. You felt his rough fingertips graze along the hem of your underwear, playing with the lace. “Don’t silence yourself love, you know how much I love your pretty song” He chuckled. You whimpered as his nose pressed against the fabric that separated him from your pussy. You could feel the tug on the fabric as he inhaled your scent, sucking on the gusset gently to gather the first taste. An appetiser of what you had to offer. You could feel the hint of a smile grow on your features as he pulled the fabric away exposing you. 

His tongue had insane accuracy as he swiped at the arousal that was already pooling. His moan vibrated around you at your sweet taste, if only he had a drink in this flavour. Your legs trapped him close to you ensuring that he had no choice but to continue to devour you. Your pleasure caused his cock to throb in his trousers, the hardness of it almost becoming painful. He realized a while ago you didn’t mind the sex with him as long as your pleasure came first. If it felt like you were getting something out of it before him. You never saw the damp patch on his boxers when he would stand up and pull out his cock. The taste of you was enough for him, the thrill of betraying you with this simple realization had him orgasming first. The taste of you was always comparable to a Michelin star dessert. 

Leon could feel the clench of your walls around your tongue as he brought you closer to your orgasm. His nose nudged against the sensitive bud eliciting deep guttural moans that sent the blood straight down to his cock. Just when you were about to cum, to give him the sweet juices he craved daily – Leon pulled away standing in front of you. Your cheeks were flush, eyebrows pinched in frustration. Complaints lingered in your mouth but came out in pathetic pleads and begs for pleasure again. Your own fingers frantically help him undo his trousers and free his leaking cock. “So desperate. I still remember when you pleaded for me to not give it to you. All that time you could have been getting all of this pleasure. Just for what? To not ruin your pride?” He chuckled as he lined it up. 

It felt like heaven as he slid it through your folds, you watched the tip appear – red and eager already beading with his cum. His lips brushing the shell of your ear “Admit to me that you’ve always wanted it. Even when you squirmed part of you enjoyed it. Admit it” 

It was a command. One that if you refused he would withdraw the pleasure you were clawing for. “Please, I was a fool before. I need it Leon” You begged. He laughed as he finally sunk himself into you. Groaning as you moulded around him, the tightness of your cunt gripping onto him like the nails you dug into his shoulders. He never seemed to get close enough, there was never enough skin contact for you. Leon moved slowly at first teasing you before his own pleasure coursed through him in a demand to finish. The usual silence of the home was broken with your moans, the sound of skin slapping before with one final thrust he finished. Pulling away to watch the cum spill out of you. 

“Beautiful” 

You didn’t hear his words, not when you felt his lips suck against the scar on your chest. The skin now angry and pulsing. Always leaving a reminder, making sure you never forgot. Sex was weird, the casual act of intimacy for normal people never felt quite right for the two of you. There was still reluctance on your part – the palms of your hands always pushed against his shoulders shoving him further away. Your mind always outwardly rejects him whenever you know it or not. 

You wouldn’t get a shower tonight, not as his cum still dripped down your thighs. He always left it there to grow sticky, the smell permeating your skin like a scent claim. You could imagine the look he would give you in the morning when he wakes you up with his mouth again, the smell of him lingering on your skin. 

Your nightgown was replaced with a fresh one, the stark white showing off an innocence you weren’t sure you obtained anymore. Leon did however – of course he did. You hadn’t seen what he had, felt the bones crush in your body as you continued to fight no matter what because it was your job. 

The two of you laid away in the dark, your head resting on his chest listening to his steady heart whilst his finger brushed through your hair. How did you get here? Why did he have to choose you? You wouldn’t have wished this on any other girl but what was his incentive. What was his goal? Did he really want you to just live here, in this lonely bubble? Your thoughts were loud to him as they were everynight. You understood he explained the basics of why he took you, his admission to finally having something good in his life. To provide a happy ending for the both of you. He felt your breathing change as you grew frustrated. You promised him to not fight anymore, to give in and appreciate the life he's giving you. Leon wasn’t stupid, not anymore, he could tell you still had a spark of rebellion in you. He was just waiting for it to appear.

He thought before about telling you about the horrors that plagued his mind. AFter all, he had only given you a brief explanation over what his job was. The gruesome details of the event he had experienced left him with nightmares. The things he had faced now lingered in the shadows of the room or the corner of his eyes. Maybe he would tell you about the ghosts of his pasts, the one that smiled at him from the trees when he was alone. He wouldn’t let you turn out like them; not when he had the ability to make sure you never did. 

You were special, Leon knew that from the moment he sunk his fat cock into your pussy. You stretched and clenched around him in the most perfect way he immediately became addicted that first night he had you. You had to be claimed somehow – so feisty that first time it was a hassle getting you to stay still, a fuck like you was too good to let loose. He still had the photo after he fucked your mouth; it was your fault the cock slipped out of your mouth anyway. The tip was lined up perfectly as he rubbed his cock until his load drenched your face. The translucent substance looked so pretty against your skin, giving it a soft glow that suited you. Eyes still shut as it coated your lashes; it created the perfect opportunity to form that photo. God you were perfect for him.

You felt his breathing even out the soft snores slowly releasing from his lips. It only ever happened when he was on his back trapped by you, for your own sleep you slipped away opting to face the window and the impending darkness that lingered. It never scared you, the unknown. The idea that something will happen to save you was one you clinged onto for comfort. You might have lost everything, became some mystery to the outside world but you knew your story wasn’t finished. Even if it was the reaper that came to write your final ending, that the darkness outside would sneak inside to take you away. Away from him. Unlike Leon the darkness didn’t scare you. 

His whimpers woke you up, the sheets ripped from your body as he shot awake with a sense of urgency. You didn’t even get time to react to the blinding light as he turned on the lamp beside you. His frantic eyes scanned the room silently getting rid of any danger that lurked in the corners. Until they fell on you. Your body looked so small in the sheets, eyes slowly adjusting to the light as well as his panicked form. His hands shook as they touched you, holding your shoulder tightly. “Leon-” 

You were cut off as he brought you into his arms, burying you in a hug. His scent intoxicated you, his skin layered with a sheen of sweat. You could feel him press kisses in the crown of your head, his mind using you as a grounding point. There was nothing you could do, you waited for his grip to loosen. The pain that flared along your skin was just a sign of more bruises to litter there in the morning. The tender spots would be hard to forget like always. Part of you felt sorry for him seeing him this affected by a dream. You would ask if there was anything more you could have done or if there was something in particular he needed. 

He was a horrible man, one that has stripped you of the essence of yourself but no one should be hunted in their dreams. Having nowhere to escape in a vulnerable moment. It was only when his grip loosened you spoke. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

It was normal to do that, he knew this. It's what normal couples do to comfort and talk to each other about what happened in their dreams, even the bad ones. He pulled away and looked at you, the sleep still lingered in your eyes. You slowly blinked them at him. He could tell you, perhaps in this state you would forget not to use his dream against him in the future. Allow a moment for his control to slip but that was riding on the fact you would forget. He knew you…you wouldn’t forget not with something like this. “You don’t need to worry about me” He spoke instead. It was strange to see the inner conflict so visible on your face as you had a silent conversation. You were never this expressive with him unless he was pounding his cock into you. 

“Does it happen often?” You asked again. Leon nodded his already messy hair now falling over his face. “Tonight was the worst. In a long while at least” 

You believed him, most of the time he woke up and snuggled back into you as if you being here actually helped him. Tonight however he jumped from bed, holding you desperately. It was different, the air had shifted. “I can make you tea tomorrow, it’s meant to help with sleep. I used to make it.” 

Your offer wasn’t instantly rejected which surprised you, maybe his troubles with sleep were worse than he led on. Leon nodded again, a smile growing on his lips at your offer to even help him. Maybe it was slowly developing into something he wanted, that time alone with just him was enough to ensure you created a bond with him. “Is there anything in particular you need?” He questioned, the house was stocked and he made sure of it. The kitchen had shelves of herbs and spices, in those cute little house jars that he assumed you would like. 

He didn’t tap into your devices for no reason after all, he wanted the perfect life for you. To spoil you with everything you wanted. He saw each little post you made online about how they made you feel, about how much you wanted to leave. Your pinterest boards filled with your dream items, the style you wanted, the hobbies or house decoration. He read it all like a book, like it was his daily news. It hurt you still didn’t notice or appreciate it all. “Valerian root, Lavender, Chamomile. I can forage for most of it, there might be some in the woods” 

He nodded, his heartbeat was steady again, a united front to prevent you from seeing too much. You had already seen enough weakness. “I’ll see what I can do” 

It was the next morning he approached you with the idea of going out further into the woods, you had told him the only one native was Valerian root. Also rumoured to be the most effective in achieving a deeper sleep. Leon would be lying if he said he didn’t feel unnerved with the idea of falling into a deep sleep, it had been so long since he’s not been plagued by nightmares and had a full body reset. Part of it felt nice, beginning to be able to just feel his muscles slightly looser in the morning. Maybe his head will be clearer and he’ll stop being so paranoid. He was aware of the effect lack of sleep had on a person – he just never had the ability to ease it. 

It shocked him last night at your admittance to using the tea yourself. Since you have been living here there was no evidence of your bad sleep. Perhaps that was another thing he has helped you with – his presence next to you at night fighting the nightmares you have now forgotten about. It was an unknown privilege to you that he no longer had to leave for the longer missions. It had been months since he was called into office. 

Leon knew how to make the activity harder since he insisted you held his hand the entire time. This was the compromise, he wanted you naked again – stripped bare so you wouldn't even think about leaving him. His hand was warm at least, a reminder that if you dared to edge closer to him you would feel the warmth of his body, a stark contrast from the morning frost. “I see why you like coming out here so much, the sun looks…magical” He spoke. You looked at him surprised to find his features relaxed, his eyes briefly closing just like he did yesterday evening. As if in his darkness the sun was his only light but now you caught him looking at you more, like you actually had an impact in his life. As if you helped him. If only you could know how. 

Your eyes remained firmly on the ground once he caught you looking at him, blush creeping in on your features. It wasn’t that Leon was unattractive that’s what confused you. He was fine until you miss behaved, you’ve learnt which of his buttons not to push and which of his moods to avoid to make your life easier. And yet still, you longed for that boring job which gave you endless headaches. The small meaningless things in life that still somehow gave you joy. He took that from you. You have learnt how to live without it, yes but part of you still craves it. 

“Your brain is working too hard again. Why?” 

He tugged on your arm, pain flaring as his grip tightened to halt your movements. You blinked at him like a deer in headlights. “I–I was just thinking about you” Your voice was quite unsure like you were aware of the hole you were digging yourself into. “What about me?” His smirk was suggestive, an eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Blush coats your cheeks as you attempt to think of any form of answer. “Um…s–sex?” Was that the best you could come up with?  

He barked a laugh, your response clearly pleasing him as his grip loosened slightly. “Never thought I’d see the day” His response was teasing. You felt your cheeks heat up, becoming flustered as you then began to actually think about him and sex. Heat pooling in between your legs. It wasn’t normal to feel like this, you shouldn’t. He was a horrible man – that’s all he should be left as. 

“I’ve found some” You muttered after a short while, pointing at the white flowers that decorated the stem you needed. He nodded, taking the combat knife that always stayed strapped to his hip. The green hilt was frayed and damaged - evidence that he has had it for many years. He let go of your hand briefly, watching you with an intense stare before walking around to the side of the plant so he could still see you as he cut it. “It would be pointless running away whilst you are right next to me” You spoke. It had been a while since the both of you had spoken about your old habit. He shrugged, watching you more carefully now. “I wouldn’t put it past you”. 

He was right, this was your first act towards loyalty that wasn’t just following his rules. You were optionally helping him, using your knowledge to treat him from unknown horrors to you. It was something he hadn’t expected from you. Not for a while anyway. “I like this. Being here. I just wish I could see or do more” You admitted. Leon nodded, perhaps it was time to allow you to have some freedoms that didn’t involve you sitting on the log opposite the house. Maybe you could learn how to sew or knit and begin filling the house with things that you made. Finally turning it into a loving home, warmth coming from something other than the fire that you both watched at night. You couldn’t tell what was going on through his head, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to. “It makes me happy to hear that” Was all he responded with accompanied with a gentler smile. 

Your usual routine was pretty much the same, your outside time was cut short from the orange hues. He didn’t hold your hand this time, he allowed you to walk next to him without guidance. It felt nice to have this small display of trust but your fingers itched for the warmth of his. To feel the rough skin on his palms against yours. 

After dinner, you boiled the water in the kitchen for you to make the tea, the valerian root was already grated ready for use. He watched as you prepared it, tasting it for yourself with a small sip on the side of the mug. Hands flickering over the spice jars to add what you thought it needed. You had a small smile when you presented it to him after dinner, the fire crackled behind the both of you. “We can go to bed when I start to feel sleepy” You nodded, understanding that he wouldn’t want you walking around the house whilst he slept. You still had to wake him up to let him know you were going to the bathroom at night. “And you are sure this will help?” He asked, swirling the liquid in the mug. It wasn’t like you could poison him, he had watched you prepare every step from where he sat at the table. “It should help you fall asleep. It won’t knock you out like a sleep med” You said, smiling softly. 

That was a good thing he supposed, eliminated one of his fears. You both moved to the fire, sitting on the sofa watching the flames dance around each other. The wood burns brightly leaving only the embers and ashes. To his surprise you leant on his shoulder. You had never done this before; maybe it was because he was finally trusting you and in return you trusted him. He watched the shadows dance along your features, your hair falling on his shoulders. You felt him tug you closer, silently offering a sense of protection. “Why are you crying?” He whispered in your ear. You hadn’t even noticed you were, the tear was a silent scream from the inside that this enjoyment was wrong. You shouldn’t want to be near him and be held like this, but your longing for freedom was fading.

It has been so long since you have been held, being able to weep in someone else's arms, not the pillow you used at night. “I’m not sure” you whispered, sitting up straighter to look at him. To watch his reaction. Instead of anger or disappointment genuine care laced his features. The last time you saw this look was after one of the first escape attempts and you tripped over a log. Your cries of pain hurt him deeply back then, now they were just another sound to him. Most of them coming from his punishments anyway. “Maybe sleep will make you feel better” He cooed. You nodded, holding his hand optionally. 

Leon felt the effects of your tea pretty quickly it seemed, his arm now dead weight against your waist. You watched the net curtain blow in the wind, the breeze that leaked through the small gap. You turned to face Leon, watched as the soft snores slipped through his partially open mouth. He was peaceful for once, nightmares that normally plagued him finally left him alone. Your finger poked at him, prodding him gently. He didn’t move, didn’t react. Normally his eyes opened immediately. He had never been a deep sleeper, you knew this from when you tried to chance an escape at night. Perhaps it could work this time. 

The floor was cold against your bare feet but you took no notice as you began to creep out the room. The front door was now in sight, as you crept past the dying fire that had now reduced to embers: to you, this was the prettiest part of a fire, burning a bright red, waiting for the opportunity to ignite again with the right fuel. Nobody ever thinks to drown them out with water, they just assume that they’ll burn out on their own, but that's how most fires restart. It just takes the right conditions for it all to spark up again…

Your hand gingerly touched the freezing knob, turning it slightly. It was unlocked. This was your chance surely? A sign you could finally get a good enough headstart and escape or die somewhere in the woods. Finally get away from this place. 

You couldn’t move, it felt too good to be true. The door was ajar, the cold breeze was harsh on your bare toes. You had finally settled here, everyone back home would have forgotten you by now. He would just find you again, he was a government agent. You couldn’t hide from someone like him. You would only be dragged back and your hard work to get him to trust you would be pointless. Your eyes glanced at his boots placed neatly next to the front door. The laces loose incase he needed to slip them on quickly. It didn’t take much to tug them out, holding the ribbons of fabric in your fingers. You closed the door, turning back towards the bedroom. 

Heat and excitement blossomed in your stomach alongside the fire, which now had a new lease of life, rejuvenated by the breeze. As you sashayed through the bedroom door, you noticed Leon now lay on his back. His chest is still slowly rising and falling with his sleep. He didn’t wake when you sat back on the bed, your knees pressed against his chest nor did he when you began to tie his wrists to the bed frame. You didn’t care if the string bit into his skin, he could have marks like he gave you when he first did this. You looked at the permanent red bracelets that now decorated your skin. Maybe you could carve your name onto his chest, give him the same treatment as you gave him. 

You felt the tears this time. What happened to you? You were just like him. Thinking of every way you could hurt him like he did to you. You weren’t any better. 

Not ignoring the heat that pooled in your stomach you hovered above him before sinking on his lap, feeling his soft cock underneath you separated by the duvet and underwear. He was vulnerable like this. Just as you were before. When he took you all those months ago. Leon broke you into the person you were now. Your family wouldn’t want you back, not after him. Not with these ugly scars that now littered your body, his stupid initials branded onto you. You were his now, there was no point in denying it. 

You moaned as you rubbed yourself along the length of him, feeling it harden even in his sleep. His need and reactions to your body only spurred you on more. There wasn’t anyone else that would react to you like he did; Made you feel like they needed you to just breathe. Your fingers shook as you pulled the fabric away, sliding his boxer along his legs exposing the length you now craved. Your eyes flicked towards his face, watching as his eyebrows pinched together slightly now his tip was exposed to the cold air but he didn’t wake. Your finger ran along the slit of it watching as beads of cum replaced the ones you wiped away. Even in his sleep he was desperate for you. Craving you. You slipped your underwear off, the nightdress discarded as well. The white fabric didn’t suit you anymore. Not after this. 

You whimpered as you sunk onto him, feeling yourself stretch and mold to accommodate him. His hangs tugged at the laces you began to move, eyes blinking as he panicked. Leon’s groan was wonderful, they always were. You were in control, it was exciting. He was whimpering beneath you. Your hips continued to wake him up, the slow circles causing him to tug at the restraints until finally he stopped. You faltered as he stared at you, keeping eye contact with you as you continued. “What is this?” He said, a slow smirk beginning to grow on his features. “Have I corrupted you? Tainted your soul to be as dark as mine?”  

You shook your head, the pleasure building up slowly as you continued to use him. He stopped tugging, stopped trying to break away. Eyes fluttering shut each time you lifted yourself along his cock only to slam it back down. “I thought you’d run away, finally get a head start but you finally figured out there was no point didn’t you” 

You jumped as his hand caressed your thigh, it shouldn’t be there. It was…tied up. Leon’s eyes darkened as you looked back at his wrists. “You were so close, love but don’t fool yourself now” He chuckled. You sped up, trying to finish before he ripped it away. Your desperation only fuels him further, his hip joining yours in an onslaught of pleasure. He couldn’t have given you this slither of power. Once chance to finally take what you wanted. No. That would have gone to your head, made you think your plan worked. You used his weakness against him. The fight has never left you now. No matter how many times you told him it had. That he had broken you down to this weak person who wouldn’t betray him anymore. 

“Please…just let me finish” You whimpered, you needed the release that was coming from your own doings. Your own pace. To enjoy the slither of freedom you gave yourself. He only smirked. “Leon– please” 

“Such a whore now. Begging for your release. I know it’s because you gave it. You made it happen” 

You whimpered again, nodding. Cursing yourself as your hips began to falter now the pleasure was getting too much, tethering yourself on the edge of overstimulation. “Such a whore for the bad man” 

He stopped, his fingers gripped at your hips holding you in place. He couldn’t give you this, you would do it again and again. He’d rather suffer in his nightmare than allow someone else take control of his choices, his life. You were flipped onto the bed. Head dangling off the edge causing the blood to rush there. Leon was unforgiving in his pace, his pelvis hitting yours and it turned into pain. Each thrust felt like a spank. Your hands gripped at his, desperately holding on as you became fuzzy. He felt your orgasm, the force of it pushing his cock out harshly. “I was wrong to trust you, to think you were changing and understanding what I do for you” 

You whimpered attempting to lift your head to look at him but his hand landed on your neck. Holding it in place. He was doing it wrong, crushing your windpipes instead of the blood circulation. You panicked squirming beneath. “After months we are right back where we started. If you had seen the things I have you wouldn’t. You would hide here like a good girl and be grateful for this. That you are alive to experience it” 

Leon finished with a grunt, his hand closing around your throat as he fucked his cum into your over senstive pussy. When you finally raised your head he stared back at you, his eyes dark daring you to do something. It was tempting. To become this little brat he couldn’t contain. “Continue like this…and see where it gets you. You are already becoming twisted using me like that” 

“Just took inspiration from you” 

He didn’t appreciate the bite in your words. You watched his fingers twitch each digit clenching into a fist and then relaxing. Your hips hurt, your throat hurts. He had ruined you now, your soul and actions just as bad as his own. He wasn’t wrong. It just made it all the more exciting.

[dreaminguponlilypads]

AFTER THE FIRE.

Captain John Price x GN!reader

The night before had been ugly.

Neither of you had meant for it to spiral the way it did—raised voices, sharp words, the kind of fight that left both of you lying awake, staring at opposite walls. Now, in the cold light of morning, Captain John Price acted as if nothing had happened.

And that pissed you off.

You moved through the safehouse, checking your gear, barely sparing him a glance. He did the same, the space between you filled with everything unsaid.

“Move out in five,” Price said, voice clipped. To anyone else, it would just sound like orders. To you, it was distance.

“Copy that,” you replied, equally detached.

This mission should’ve been routine—gather intel from a cartel hideout, sweep the area, get out. You and Price had worked together long enough that your coordination was near flawless. But today, the weight of last night’s argument threw everything off.

His commands over comms were too sharp. Your responses were too short. It felt like trying to dance while stepping on each other’s feet.

Inside the warehouse, the air was thick with dust and tension. You moved ahead, clearing corners, trusting Price at your back. The silence between you was deafening.

Then, you slipped.

Not literally, but just enough—your focus fractured for half a second too long. A hostile lunged from the shadows, shoving you hard against a crate, the muzzle of his rifle too damn close.

A gunshot rang out, and the weight disappeared. You barely had time to react before Price was in front of you, hand gripping your arm, eyes dark with something unreadable.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, looking you over. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you said, but your pulse was racing for more reasons than just the fight.

Price didn’t let go. His grip was firm, grounding, but there was something else there—concern, frustration. Maybe even regret.

“You’re off your game,” he said lowly.

You tensed. “Yeah, well, so are you.”

Silence stretched between you. The air crackled with everything neither of you had the time to say.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, releasing your arm. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, glancing at him. “We will.”

And just like that, the mission continued. But something between you had shifted, the ice beginning to thaw.

It wasn’t fixed yet. But it would be.

Hopefully.

The ride back to base was quiet, but not in the peaceful way.

Soap and Gaz were talking up front, but you weren’t listening. Your arms were crossed, your jaw set, and beside you, John was doing that thing he always did after a fight—acting like it never happened.

Like he could just pretend it was all water under the bridge. Like the tension sitting between you wasn’t thicker than the damn armor on your chest.

So, when the truck rolled to a stop, he climbed out first, walked off like nothing was wrong, and left you sitting there, stewing.

Fine.

You took your time unloading your gear, making sure you didn’t accidentally “forget” something and have to hear about it later. By the time you made it to your shared quarters, the door was already cracked open.

You stepped inside and found him sitting on the bed, arms resting on his thighs, watching you with that steady, unreadable expression. The kind that usually meant he was letting you work through your own mess before he stepped in.

You weren’t in the mood for it.

“You got something to say, or are we just gonna keep playing the silent game?” you asked, tilting your head.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. “You’re still wound up.”

“Wow, what gave it away?”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but he didn’t. “We gonna talk about it?”

“You mean the part where you acted like I was just another soldier all day?” You crossed your arms, stepping closer. “Or the part where you almost got us both killed because you were too busy ignoring me?”

He tilted his head slightly, calm as ever. “Far as I recall, you’re the one who hesitated.”

Your jaw clenched. “Maybe I was too busy thinking about the fact that my husband turned into a damn robot overnight.”

John exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“You sure? Because I spent the whole day wondering if I’d suddenly become invisible.”

“Noticed you just fine when I had to put a bullet in the bloke about to take your head off,” he said evenly.

That hit a nerve.

“You really gonna throw that in my face?” you snapped.

“I’m saying,” he continued, still infuriatingly calm, “that I can be pissed off and still do my job.”

“Oh, so I was just being unprofessional?” You scoffed. “Good to know, Captain.”

John sighed through his nose, standing up slowly. He didn’t get in your space, didn’t try to crowd you, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your stomach tighten.

“I’m saying you let it fester instead of just talking to me. I’m saying you’re still letting it fester now.”

“Because you act like nothing gets to you!” You threw your hands up. “You just walk off, all quiet and broody, and I’m left stewing in it while you—what? Smoke a cigar and pretend you’re fine?”

John huffed a short laugh, shaking his head. “That what you think I do?”

“That or drink whiskey and stare dramatically out a window.”

“You’re exhausted,” he murmured. “And still lookin’ for a fight.”

“I’m looking for an answer,” you shot back. “Or at least a reaction, but you’re too busy playing it cool.”

John tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was considering something.

Then he moved.

One second, you were glaring at him, the next, his hands were on your face, his mouth on yours, stealing the rest of your words before you could even think to protest.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was firm, steady, enough to make you stumble back a step before you caught yourself. His grip was warm, grounding, and when he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk was damn near smug.

“That reaction enough for you?” he murmured.

Your breath was uneven, your heart pounding, but you refused to let him win that easily.

“That all you got, old man?” you muttered, just to be difficult.

John chuckled, low and deep, then kissed you again—harder this time, like he was determined to shut you up for good.

[starmatzz]

Hiiiii

I NEED a smut inspired by the song "Let the world burn" and that new trending audio "loveyouloveyouloveyou" on dom yunho

IT SCREAMS CRAZYYYY

and maybe not jump into action right away a lil foreplay would be GREAT 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣

Let The World Burn

classmate!yunho x fem!reader | smut, 1.8k

nsfw tags dom/sub, vaginal sex, pet names, violence, death, possessive, stalking, ropes, bondage, orgasm, penetration, touching

You woke up on a cold, unforgiving floor. A dull ache pulsed through your body as you tried to move, but your arms wouldn’t budge—they were tightly bound. Panic rose in your chest as your mind struggled to piece together what had happened. The last thing you remembered was running.

Running through a dark alley.

Running from someone.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

A deep voice emerged from the shadows before the figure stepped forward. It was him.

Jeong Yunho—your classmate. The one you had caught staring at you far too often in class. The one who always seemed to be watching. And every time a guy showed interest in you, they mysteriously stopped coming to school the next day. Or came injured. 

Now you knew why.

Yunho’s eyes lingered on your face, his lips curling into a smile—one that sent a chill down your spine.

“I never wanted things to turn out this way,” he murmured, tilting his head. “But you left me no choice.”

It's dangerous 'cause I want it all

And I don't think I care what it costs

I shouldn't have fallen in love

Look what it made me become

His voice softened, almost gentle. “You love me, y/n. We belong together—you just don’t see it yet.”

Then, his smile widened, dark and unhinged. “But that’s okay. You’re here now. You can’t run anymore.” He took a slow step closer. “And I’ll make you understand.”

And I know you think you can run

You're scared to believe I'm the one

But I just can't let you go

“So… beautiful.”

His hands trembled as he reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t recoil—not with the ropes biting into your skin.

“Oh, almost forgot.”

Yunho suddenly pulled away, flashing you a smile before disappearing into the shadows. The moment he left, everything clicked. From the anonymous notes that kept appearing on your doorstep, through the unsettling feeling of being watched, to your underwear disappearing from the changing room after sports class while you were showering. 

It had all been him.

Before you could process it any further, Yunho returned—this time dragging someone with him. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Remember Yeosang?” he asked, his voice almost casual, as if discussing the weather. “He asked you to prom.”

Your stomach twisted as you took in the sight before you. Yeosang—bruised, bound, with tape covering his mouth—struggled against Yunho’s grip, his eyes wide with terror.

Yunho only smiled.

Fear in their eyes

Ash raining from the blood orange sky

I let everybody know that you're mine

Now it's just a matter of time

Without warning, Yunho pulled out a knife, the blade glinting under the dim light. Before you could react, he pressed it against Yeosang’s neck, his grip unyielding.

“No one can have you,” he growled, his voice laced with possessive fury. “Only me.”

Then, in one smooth motion, he dragged the blade across Yeosang’s throat.

A sickening sound filled the air—a wet, gurgling choke as Yeosang’s body convulsed. His wide, pleading eyes met yours for a fleeting second before the life drained from them. Blood spilled down his chest, soaking his shirt, pooling at his feet.

Yunho let him go, and his body crumpled to the floor with a dull thud.

You couldn’t breathe. The room spun.

But Yunho? He simply wiped the blade clean, turning back to you with that same twisted smile.

I'd let the world burn

Let the world burn for you

This is how it always had to end

If I can't have you then no one can

Yunho let the bloodied knife fall to the floor with a soft clang, his focus shifting entirely to you. Slowly, he stepped forward, closing the distance before kneeling beside you.

His hand reached out, his thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip. The touch was gentle—almost tender—yet it sent a wave of dread coursing through your veins.

“P-Please… don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath.

Yunho’s expression flickered, his brows knitting together as if your words had wounded him. Then, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Hurt you?” he repeated, his tone almost incredulous. “Darling, I would never.”

He tilted his head, his dark eyes searching yours. “How could I? You mean everything to me.”

As if to prove his point, he cupped your cheek, his touch featherlight. But no matter how softly he spoke, no matter how tender his caress seemed, the blood still stained his hands.

Yunho's palm slid down to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your pink shirt, his touch possessive and sure. Raw desire blazed in his eyes as he watched you, like a predator who had finally cornered its prey. Your breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze.

“You're so beautiful,” he growled, squeezing your breast until you gasped. His hand traveled lower, trailing fire across your stomach before finding the hem of your skirt. His fingers teased along your thigh, making promises his touch would soon fulfill.

“So pretty..my pretty girl, all mine,” he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. One hand held you firmly, fingers tangled in your hair, while the other remained poised, as if daring you to challenge his claim. 

His hand ventured beneath your skirt, but you reacted swiftly, clamping your legs together and bending your knee to kick him in the stomach.

"Don't you dare touch me," you warned, your voice steady and firm despite the adrenaline coursing through you. Yunho's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and something else flickering in their depths. 

Yunho huffed, clutching his stomach as he stumbled back, surprise etched across his features. But the shock quickly morphed into anger, and his eyes darkened, a storm brewing within them. The air between you crackled with tension, his fury palpable as he regained his footing, the predator in him reawakened.

“I wanted to make it nice for the both of us,” he growled, rolling up the sleeves of his button up, “but you're not leaving me with any other alternative.”

With that, he took steps forward, pushing up the fabric of your skirt before ripping your panties in one swift motion. 

“Whore..” He mumbled under his breath, his breathing growing heavier as his fingers fumbled in his pocket. You barely had time to react before he pulled out a roll of black tape, his hands shaking slightly—whether from excitement or something more unhinged, you couldn’t tell.

With an eerie sort of patience, he tore off a strip, the sharp rip of adhesive filling the tense silence.

He grinned, pressing the tape firmly over your lips. His touch lingered for a second, as if savoring the way your breath hitched beneath his fingertips.

Your muffled whimper was the only sound you could make now. Panic surged through you, your body twisting instinctively against the ropes, but it was useless.

He shouted directly at you, his finger jabbing towards Yeosang's motionless form on the ground, exclaiming, “What do the other guys have that I lack?!”

He forced himself between your legs, before grasping your bound arms and securing them above your head, unzipping his jeans.

“Fuck, you're all pink down there,” he exhaled, his eyes focused on your private part, “It's a pity I'm going to ruin this pretty cunt right now.”

He didn't hesitate for a moment; he pushed in immediately. You whimpered over the tape as the pressure and burning sensation overwhelmed you, and you instinctively tried to squirm away.

Yunho groaned. The warmth and wetness of your pussy was driving him insane. He proceeded, his long fingers grabbing your hips in a bruising grip as he set a steady rhythm. 

He pounded into you, his gaze locked onto your face, drinking in every trace of fear.

You couldn’t bear it—the pain was unbearable. Strands of hair clung to your damp skin as your body trembled, shaken by both agony and fear. 

“Love you, love you… I love you so much,” he babbled, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush, as if trying to make you understand the depth of his obsession.

Nails dug into your palms as Yunho refused to stop, his hands pressing firmly against your shoulders. He grabbed you tightly, fucking deep into you. You could feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix, causing a piercing pain to wash all over your body. 

“Did it hurt?” he cooed, his voice laced with mock sympathy because repeating the same movement over and over. 

“You’re mine, y/n. Finally mine,” he murmured, his voice filled with possession. “See? We fit perfectly together.”

He looked down, watching his cock disappear in your pussy. The way you stretched around him, how you cried and whimpered, it was all his fuel. Keeping his gaze on your face as he moved his hands from your shoulders, he gently cradled your breasts, squeezing them. 

Yunho continued fucking into you, curses and moans escaping his lips. He leaned closer, sucking and biting the soft skin on your neck, below your ear and over your collarbone. 

“Oh god..I'm close..” he whimpered, his eyebrows pulling in in taunt as his thrusts have become twitchy. Your sweet scent enveloped him, sending a dizzying rush through his body, as if every nerve was awakened at once, leaving him lightheaded and lost in the intoxicating fragrance of you.

His large hand slid up your thigh, his grip tightening as he squeezed. “Fuck, look how deep I am in your pretty cunt...” he breathed out, massaging the bulge in your abdomen. 

You laid there, motionless, waiting for him to finish, the stillness pressing down on you.

“Your eyes are mesmerizing,” he murmured, leaning in, his fingers softly brushing the hair from your face. “I wish I could see you look at me like this every day.”

He slowly withdrew, his cock rubbing against your velvety walls, before forcefully slamming back in. You cried out, the sound muffled by the tape, as your hands shook uncontrollably from the excruciating pain, each tremor making the ache feel even more unbearable.

“Ah..fuck!” Yunho suddenly groaned, staying buried deep inside you. His hips twitches as he came hard, filling you up. 

“So pretty…” he mumbled, his breath shallow as he struggled to regain control, his gaze never leaving you. He pulled out, watching the strings of thick cum connecting his tip and your pulsating slit. 

Suddenly he pushed back in, rolling his hips in circles as he continued fucking you through his orgasm. “Don’t think we’re over, princess,” he smirked, his eyes glinting as he watched the fear spread across your face. Your eyes widened in realization, and deep down, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon.

[jhyoos]

Of Roses And Steel

chapter six : heavy is the crown

knight sevika x queen reader

mentions : strong reader, fight scenes, caitvi mentions, vander lowkey being a father figure to reader, protective sevika, mentions of blood, monsters, royalty au, medieval au, child deaths

notes: “bruh completely forgot” NO TF I DIDNT. HERE DAMN.

The snow drifted down in delicate flurries, soft and silent, a stark contrast to the raging blizzard you had endured just days before. Each breath you took formed a ghostly mist in the cold air, but the chill did little to numb the fire burning inside you. You had all left camp at dawn, the weight of war settling over your shoulders as you dressed in your armor. The camp had been eerily quiet, everyone preparing in their own way, some sharpening weapons, others murmuring silent prayers. You hadn’t been sure how to feel—anger, resolve, fear? But in the end, only one thought guided you: headstrong. You were fighting for your land, your people, your father, your mother. Fighting against the betrayal that had led you here.

Sevika’s voice broke through your thoughts. “We’re gonna go up a little further, then we dismount. Attack on foot,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You nodded, gripping the reins tighter as your horse moved steadily through the snow-covered path. The wind howled softly through the trees, but beyond that, the world felt eerily still, as if the land itself were holding its breath in anticipation of the coming bloodshed.

Then, with a sharp motion, Sevika raised her hand, signaling a halt.

“Dismount,” she ordered, her voice low but firm.

Everyone slid off their horses in practiced movements, the crunch of boots against the frost-covered ground the only sound filling the tense silence. You reached for your weapons, strapping your sword at your hip, securing your bow across your back. Every movement felt rehearsed, methodical, yet your hands trembled slightly as you adjusted your grip.

Sevika’s gaze flickered to you, unreadable as always. There was something in the way she looked at you, something lingering from the night before. The intimacy you had shared was still fresh in your mind—her hand gripping the back of your neck, her thumb tracing your cheek with uncharacteristic tenderness. She had wanted to say something then, but she hadn't. Now, as she took a step closer, her hand twitched slightly at her side before she pulled away. This was war, and there was no room for sentimentality.

“The Noxians are not far from here,” she said, her voice cutting through the cold. “Weapons ready. We go in headstrong and we do not stop until every single soldier is down. Understood?”

A chorus of agreement followed, the sound of steel being drawn filling the air. This was the reality of war—no drawn-out speeches, no time for hesitation. Only the brutal, unrelenting quickness of battle.

You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself as you reached for your bow. Pulling an arrow from your quiver, you nocked it with precision, feeling the familiar weight settle in your hands.

Sevika turned to face you then, her eyes expectant. She wanted you to speak.

You took a step forward, your voice unwavering as it rang through the frigid air. “The Medardas have taken our land, stolen our goods, our families, our livelihoods. But after today, they shall thieve no more.”

Silence fell for the briefest moment, the weight of your words sinking in.

Then, with one final breath, you raised your bow.

“Attack!” you roared.

And with the raise of your bow, you started the war.

It all happened in a blur.

The moment the battle began, the air filled with the sharp twang of bowstrings, the clash of steel, and the desperate cries of soldiers meeting their end. You barely had time to process it before you found yourself face-to-face with two enemy archers, their bows already drawn, arrows trained directly on you.

Instinct took over.

You dropped low just as their fingers twitched, the sound of their bows releasing lost beneath the chaos. With a sharp inhale, you let your own arrow fly, striking the first soldier clean in the throat. His body jerked, the bow slipping from his grasp as he crumpled to the ground, blood staining the fresh snow. The second barely had time to react before you lunged forward, slamming your boot into his chest and sending him sprawling. He gasped, trying to scramble back, but you were already on him. In one swift motion, you drew a dagger from your belt and plunged it into his exposed neck. His body went rigid before finally going still beneath you.

You rose to your feet, yanking the knife free just in time to look up—only to see Sevika effortlessly cutting down five soldiers with nothing but her fists. She moved with terrifying precision, dodging blows with ease, her strikes breaking bones and crushing throats in a matter of seconds. A man tried to swing his sword at her, but she caught his wrist mid-swing and twisted until a sickening crack echoed through the battlefield. He collapsed, screaming, before she finished him with a swift stomp to the head.

Your gaze flickered across the field, searching for your allies. The battle was chaotic, bodies clashing, swords flashing in the winter light. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Vander struggling.

Three Noxian soldiers had him surrounded, and though he was holding his own, it was clear they were wearing him down. Without hesitation, you sprinted toward him.

One of the soldiers turned just in time to see you closing in, but it was too late. You drove your knife into his side, twisting it deep before ripping it free, sending him to his knees with a choked gasp. Vander took the distraction to his advantage, landing a powerful blow to another soldier’s head, sending him reeling before slamming him into the snow. The final man barely had time to react before Vander grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the ground, finishing him off with a brutal punch.

Panting, Vander turned to you, shaking the blood from his hands. A grin pulled at his lips as he extended a hand. “Should’ve known you’d come to save the day.”

You smirked, gripping his arm and hauling him to his feet. “Of course.”

There was no time to revel in the victory. More soldiers were coming. The battle was far from over.

The battle raged on, but the tide was shifting in your favor. The Noxian soldiers were falling, their numbers dwindling as your forces pushed forward with relentless determination. The once-pristine snow was now a battlefield, littered with fallen bodies and streaked with crimson.

You moved through the chaos with precision, striking down any enemy that stood in your way. Your arms ached, your breath was ragged, but you refused to slow down. This was your home, your people—there was no room for weakness.

Sevika fought nearby, a force of destruction, cutting through enemies with brutal efficiency. Her movements were almost effortless, as if war was second nature to her. She caught your eye once, her gaze flickering with something unreadable before she turned back to the fight.

Then, finally, the noise began to die down.

The clashing of swords grew fainter, the shouts less frequent. One by one, the remaining Noxians fell, some trying to flee, only to be cut down before they could escape. Soon, there was nothing left but the silence of the battlefield, the heavy breaths of the soldiers who had survived.

Sevika exhaled sharply, surveying the scene with a critical eye. Her knuckles were bloodied, her armor dented in places, but she stood tall, unwavering. She turned to the gathered soldiers, her voice carrying across the field.

"Search the village houses. We need to be sure no captors remain."

The soldiers nodded and moved without hesitation, breaking off into smaller groups as they made their way toward the cluster of houses beyond the battlefield. You watched as they entered each home cautiously, weapons drawn, prepared for anything.

Sevika stepped beside you, her gaze locked on the village ahead. "We don’t take risks," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "If there are any survivors, we bring them to safety. If there are any remaining Noxians, we put them down."

You nodded, wiping the blood from your blade. "And if we find nothing?"

Sevika glanced at you, her expression unreadable. "Then we move forward. The war isn’t over yet."

You swallowed, the weight of her words settling in. The battle may have ended here, but the fight for your kingdom was far from finished.

The cold air was crisp against your skin as you stood beside Sevika, watching the soldiers move from one house to the next, clearing each with cautious precision. The battlefield was eerily quiet now, save for the distant murmurs of your men and the occasional creak of a door being forced open.

You glanced at Sevika, taking in the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw was set. She stood like a statue, unmoving, unreadable.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Sevika didn’t look at you right away. Instead, she exhaled, watching as the soldiers disappeared into the homes. “Do you want me to be honest?” she finally asked, her tone even but laced with something heavier.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as you considered her words. There were many ways this conversation could go, but you didn’t want distance between you—not now.

“We are lovers, aren’t we?” you said, your voice steady despite the vulnerability of the question.

That got her attention. She turned to face you fully, and for the first time in what felt like ages, her gaze softened. The hardened warrior before you cracked, just slightly, enough for a small, almost imperceptible smile to pull at her lips.

“I’m just a bit worried,” Sevika admitted. “We lost good soldiers back there. And this place… it was heavily guarded for a reason.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The battle was over, but unease lingered in the air. Something wasn’t right.

“I would tell you not to think too much about it,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood, “but I’ve been overthinking ever since I woke up from that coma.”

Sevika let out a short, quiet laugh, shaking her head as she looked at you. It wasn’t much, but you knew her well enough to see that she appreciated the attempt, even if it didn’t ease her concerns.

“We should go help,” Sevika said after a moment, her voice turning firm once again. Without waiting for a response, she strode toward one of the more dilapidated houses, its roof half-collapsed, its door hanging off its hinges.

You took one last breath of the cold air before following her inside.

You and Sevika moved through the abandoned house with practiced efficiency, checking every corner, every overturned piece of furniture, every possible hiding place. The air inside was stale, heavy with the scent of damp wood and dust. It was clear that people had lived here not long ago—half-eaten meals sat untouched on the table, chairs were knocked over as if someone had left in a hurry.

Then, your eyes landed on something on the floor. A sealed letter, its wax imprint unmistakable—the Noxian insignia pressed into crimson. Your heart pounded as you bent down and picked it up, your fingers running over the seal before breaking it open.

You read in silence, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the words burned into your mind:

"Kill all townspeople you come across. Leave no survivors. This land belongs to Noxus now."

Ambessa’s orders.

Your grip on the paper tightened as your eyes darted around the room. There was no blood on the floors, no signs of struggle. Either the Noxians had cleaned up after themselves, or the massacre had happened elsewhere. The thought made bile rise in your throat.

Without thinking, you moved toward the back door, pushing it open with trembling hands. The backyard was eerily quiet, a blanket of snow covering the ground. But something felt off. The stillness, the way the wind carried an almost metallic scent.

You dropped to your knees, hands plunging into the frozen earth. The snow was thick, but you dug with desperation, fingers burning from the cold as you clawed at the ground. Then—your nails scraped against something hard. Something cold.

You pushed away more snow, and the first thing you saw was red.

Blood. Seeping into the white, staining your hands as you uncovered a lifeless body. A child.

A sharp sob tore from your throat, but you didn’t stop. You kept digging, your hands moving frantically as you unearthed more—bodies piled carelessly, discarded like nothing more than waste. Men, women, children. Their faces frozen in expressions of fear, their hands tangled together as if they had clung to each other in their final moments.

Your body shook as grief and rage consumed you, tears falling freely. “No… no, no, no…”

Sevika hadn’t heard you at first, but the moment she stepped outside and saw you on your knees, saw what you had uncovered, her expression darkened.

“(Y/N)…” Her voice was low, cautious.

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

“(Y/N)!” Sevika barked, her tone sharp enough to cut through your hysteria.

You finally looked up at her, your vision blurred with tears. “I failed them.” Your voice broke. “How could they? Why would they do something so cruel?”

Sevika was at your side in an instant, grabbing your wrists and pulling you to your feet. Your hands were numb, raw from the cold and the effort. She wordlessly unclasped her cape, wrapping it around your trembling fingers, rubbing them between her own in an attempt to warm you.

“This is not your fault,” she said firmly, her voice a low rumble of restrained fury. “This is Ambessa’s doing. And she will fall for what she’s done.”

You looked down at the bodies, at the innocent lives lost, and clenched your jaw.

Sevika was right.

Ambessa would pay.

The cold wind bit at your skin as Sevika stood beside you, her gaze locked on the soldiers moving through the village, securing homes and checking for any hidden survivors. The weight of what you had just uncovered still lingered in the air, but there was no time to dwell on grief—only time to act.

“Violet and Caitlyn moved ahead of us,” Sevika finally said, arms crossed as she surveyed the road ahead. “They’re helping Steb hide more townspeople. We can’t afford any more dead.” She exhaled through her nose, the cold making her breath visible in the air. “I let them bring a few soldiers with them.”

You nodded, though your mind was already racing ahead. The massacre in this village proved just how ruthless Ambessa was. If she was this heartless, then brute force wouldn’t be enough to stop her—she’d expect a straightforward battle. No, you needed something unpredictable.

“A diversion,” you murmured.

Sevika turned to look at you. “What?”

“If Ambessa is this cruel, then we need to throw her off balance. Something big. Something she won’t expect.” You paused before the idea clicked into place. “An explosion.”

Sevika raised a brow, skeptical but listening.

“The monsters are expected, but explosions? Those aren’t,” you said, determination sharpening your voice. “She won’t see it coming.”

Your eyes flickered over the people until they landed on a familiar head of unruly blue hair. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you made your way over.

“Jinx.”

She was crouched beside Vander, checking over his injuries with surprisingly delicate hands. At the sound of your voice, she perked up, grinning as she turned to you.

“(Y/N), to what do I owe the pleasure?” Jinx drawled, tilting her head in amusement.

You didn’t waste time. “I need you to do what you do best.”

Her eyes glimmered with interest. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Explosions.”

Jinx’s grin widened. “Now you’re speaking my language. But I’ll need materials for that.”

You crossed your arms. “If there were Noxians this far from the castle, then their camp can’t be far. I’m sure we can find everything you need.”

Jinx tapped a finger against her chin, considering. Then she clapped her hands together. “Then I’ll make ‘em.”

You gave her a confident smile. “I know you will.”

Sevika’s voice cut in. “Make what?”

You turned to face her, meeting her narrowed gaze without hesitation. “Bombs.”

Her expression immediately hardened. “Bombs?” She crossed her arms. “That’s a crazy idea. What if someone on our side gets caught in it?”

You held her stare. “That’s why I’m doing this strategically,” you reassured her. “Trust me.”

For a moment, she just looked at you, her jaw tight. Then, with an exasperated huff, she rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Sevika’s voice rang out with authority over the howling wind. “Mount up! We need to keep moving—Ambessa will realize soon enough that her soldiers aren’t returning.”

The remaining forces swiftly obeyed, pulling themselves onto their horses as the cold bit at their faces. You adjusted your grip on the reins, your breath visible in the frigid air. The battle had already left its mark on all of you, but there was no time to stop.

As you rode forward, the dense forest of snow-covered trees opened up to reveal a small, abandoned Noxian camp. The silence was unsettling. Fires had long since died out, and footprints in the snow were fading under fresh snowfall.

“Stay alert,” Sevika murmured, raising a hand to signal a halt.

She dismounted first, boots crunching against the frozen ground as she strode toward a row of wooden crates. You swung down from your horse and followed close behind, fingers resting on your sword hilt.

Sevika pried open a crate, scanning its contents before glancing up at you. “Looks like they had the same idea.” She lifted a small, round explosive with the Noxian insignia carved into its metal casing. “Bombs.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Load these up. Be careful,” you instructed, motioning for a few soldiers to begin packing the explosives onto the horses.

Suddenly, the sharp whistle of something slicing through the air made your body react on instinct. You twisted to the side just in time for an arrow to graze past your cheek, embedding itself into the wooden crate beside you.

A voice, familiar and sharp, cut through the cold. “You aren’t taking anything.”

Your blood ran hot as you turned to face the source. Emerging from the white veil of snowfall was Mel Medarda, clad in Noxian colors, her golden eyes glinting with unreadable intent. Behind her, more soldiers stepped forward, weapons drawn.

Your grip on your sword tightened as your vision darkened with rage. You swung down from your horse, boots hitting the ground hard. “It’s mine,” you growled, drawing your blade with a steady hand. “I found it. I kept it.”

Mel’s lips curled into a smirk, though there was no warmth in it. “Wouldn’t want to do that,” she warned, taking a step closer. “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?”

A sneer twisted your features. “I’m not hurt anymore.” You raised your sword, the weight of it grounding you in the moment. “Let’s see what you can use to your advantage now, traitor.”

Mel’s grip on her sword tightened, her golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, she lifted a hand, a silent command.

“Kill them,” she ordered coldly. “But leave her to me.”

The Noxian soldiers didn’t hesitate. In an instant, the air erupted into chaos. Arrows flew, blades clashed, and war cries filled the camp as both sides collided. Your soldiers fought back with everything they had, meeting Noxian steel with unrelenting force.

But your focus was locked solely on Mel.

She lunged at you again, her blade a silver blur in the cold air. You barely had time to deflect, the impact rattling your bones. She was fast—faster than before—but you had fought her once, and you wouldn’t let her overpower you again

Then she lunged.

You met her head-on, the clash of your swords ringing out in the stillness. Sparks flew as metal ground against metal, the force of the impact reverberating through your arms. Mel was quick, each strike precise and unrelenting, but you held your ground.

She twisted, attempting to throw you off balance, but you countered, ducking low before delivering a sharp kick to her side. She stumbled slightly but recovered fast, slicing toward you in retaliation. You barely managed to parry in time, the force of her blow sending a jolt through your wrists.

You stepped back, breathing heavy, your eyes locked onto hers.

Mel tilted her head. “You’re stronger than before.”

You wiped a trickle of blood from your lip with the back of your hand, giving her a vicious grin. “And you’re getting slower.”

Her expression darkened. Without another word, she charged at you again, blade raised.

Then—

A loud explosion shook the ground beneath you.

The explosion in the distance sent a tremor through the ground, a clear distraction meant to pull your attention away. But you refused to take the bait. Your focus remained locked on Mel. She didn't even flinch at the sound—she was too determined, too set on finishing what she started.

With quick, decisive steps, she closed the distance between you, and you surged forward to meet her head-on. Blades clashed again, ringing out through the cold air. She moved with practiced precision, but you matched her, countering each strike with one of your own.

Then—without hesitation—Mel stomped down hard on your foot. Pain shot up your leg, and before you could react, her elbow crashed against your face, sending a burst of white-hot pain through your skull. The impact knocked you off balance, and you hit the frozen ground with a hard thud, your breath leaving you in a sharp gasp.

Mel loomed over you, her expression unreadable, though the victory in her eyes was undeniable. She raised her sword, the tip gleaming in the dim light.

"Let's try this again," she murmured, gripping the hilt tightly as she prepared to drive the blade into your stomach.

But before she could strike, a deep, guttural growl rumbled through the trees.

Both of you turned toward the sound, the tension shifting in an instant. From the shadowed treeline, a figure emerged—Eros.

The massive beast moved like a ghost through the snow, his white fur blending into the storm, except now it bristled with aggression. His glowing eyes locked onto Mel, and before she could react, he lunged.

A blur of muscle and teeth, Eros crashed into her, knocking her off her feet with terrifying force. Her sword clattered to the ground as she let out a strangled scream. The sound was cut short as Eros sank his fangs into her throat.

Mel thrashed beneath him, clawing at his fur, but it was useless. He ripped and tore, his growls mixing with the wet, sickening sounds of flesh being torn apart. The struggle didn’t last long. Within moments, the fight was over, and silence settled over the battlefield.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, pressing a hand to your aching jaw as you looked at Eros. His muzzle dripped with fresh blood, his white fur stained crimson. Despite the carnage, when his glowing eyes met yours, there was no malice—only loyalty.

"Good boy?" you murmured, hesitantly reaching out a hand.

Eros stepped closer, pressing his massive head against your palm.

"Thank you," you whispered, stroking his blood-soaked fur.

You rose to your feet, your body still aching, and looked down at what remained of Mel. Her lifeless body lay in the snow, her head completely severed, her face frozen in an expression of shock.

For a moment, you felt… nothing. No rage, no satisfaction. Just emptiness.

Then, without thinking, you lifted your foot and kicked her corpse.

"Bitch," you muttered under your breath before turning away.

taglist (my shaylas) : @tinycherry0 @thesecondhandwoman @abbysbicep @artfairyyyyy @bunninel @furrytaesss @savedforlaterr @veladeangl @5t4r1i9ht @imheadintothemountains @adora-moonshine @sevikasrightboob @80saturn @littlerainsprite @runawaybaby3 @rhian88 @athena-winters13 @imsofreakingtired @imfckngfantastic @riddlemenothing @krilara @16novvs

[goldfades]

oooo crashout couple idea!!!! luka and reader celebrating libertys first win?????

i think this is my new fav "series", should i make a masterlist cause i have so many fics coming for it<333

The buzzer sounds, echoing through the packed arena, and the moment it does, it’s like the whole world bursts open.

The scoreboard lights up—final score, Liberty on top.

You barely have time to process it before your teammates crash into you, arms wrapping around you, shouts filling your ears. The crowd is roaring, the energy electric, but somehow, through all of it, you only hear one voice.

Luka’s.

You turn instinctively, eyes scanning the courtside seats, and there he is—on his feet, fists clenched, yelling like he just won the damn championship himself.

“LET’S GO, BABY!”

The cameras are already on him—because of course they are. He’s in your jersey, the one he insisted on wearing even though it’s slightly too snug across his broad shoulders, and he looks like he might just sprint onto the court himself.

You swear he nearly does. Security shifts, like they’re anticipating it.

You huff out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. Menace.

But he’s your menace.

And when your eyes meet across the court, Luka doesn’t just give you some polite, sportsmanlike nod.

No, he grins.

Big, wild, unfiltered.

The kind of grin that says, Yeah, I’m in love with you, and what about it?

And just like that, you don’t care about the cameras. You don’t care about the reporters already scribbling down notes about the Crash Out Couple and whatever chaos you’re about to bring to post-game.

All you care about is him.

And the way he’s looking at you like you just hung the damn moon.

--

Dinner is loud.

Your whole team is buzzing—high off the win, high off the adrenaline, high off the satisfaction of shutting down everyone who thought the Liberty were about to fold under pressure.

The restaurant is one of those dimly lit, upscale-but-still-lively places in the city where athletes and celebrities go to celebrate without completely being left alone. The air is thick with the scent of grilled steak and garlic butter, plates clinking, glasses being refilled before they even have a chance to empty.

And in the middle of it all, sitting next to you with his hand on your thigh like he needs to be touching you at all times, is Luka.

He’s trying—he really is.

He’s leaning in when your teammates talk, nodding at the right moments, even throwing in a couple of mhms and yeah, that’s crazy in an attempt to keep up with the fast-paced conversation.

But he’s outnumbered.

Badly.

At one point, Sabrina and Jonquel get into a heated discussion about defensive rotations, and you watch Luka’s brain short-circuit in real-time. He’s a franchise player, a basketball genius, but for some reason, this—being surrounded by a table full of hyper-competitive, opinionated, no-nonsense WNBA stars—is the thing that has him sweating.

You press your lips together, hiding your grin behind the rim of your wine glass.

It’s adorable.

This is the same man who drops 40-point triple-doubles like they’re nothing, who talks so much trash on the court it should be illegal, who once got into a screaming match with a ref in three different languages.

And yet, right now?

Right now, he’s nervously swirling the ice in his drink, completely unsure how to insert himself into the chaos.

Sabrina side-eyes him. “Luka, what do you think?”

Luka freezes, his hand tightening slightly on your thigh. “Huh?”

The table erupts in laughter.

You feel him exhale, his head dropping slightly, and it kills you how cute it is.

You pat his cheek, barely suppressing your amusement. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to keep up.”

He groans, tilting his head back dramatically. “Man, I’m trying.”

The teasing doesn’t let up after that.

Your teammates love this—getting to rattle Luka Dončić a little, reminding him that, despite all the MVP chatter and franchise player status, here, he’s just your boyfriend.

And Luka takes it, shaking his head, smirking, playing along even though you can tell he’s still a little overwhelmed.

But one thing about your man?

No matter where he is, no matter who’s around—he’s always going to have his hands on you.

Throughout dinner, his touch never leaves you.

His palm on your thigh, fingers tracing mindless patterns. His hand drifting up to squeeze your waist when you shift in your seat. His thumb brushing over your knuckles when he takes your hand in his. At one point, he rests his elbow on the back of your chair, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair, absentminded but so possessive.

And every time your teammates try to clown him, every time they tease him about being too quiet, about being so in love it’s making him shy, Luka just shrugs.

Like he knows.

Like he doesn’t care.

Like he’s completely fine with all of them seeing the way he needs to be close to you.

Like he’s saying, Yeah, I’m in love with her. And?

And honestly?

You love it.

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART EIGHTEEN

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: before your ultimate departure, you spend your last moments with sae-byeok.

wc. 3.5k (i think lol)

warnings: angst and lots of fluff | authors note: after this only two chapters left guyssss

(nowhere girl masterlist)

When Sae-byeok was done changing she walks to the living room, expecting to see you amidst slumber, however traces of you were vanished. Her eyebrows furrow and she paces to the calendar hanging in the kitchen—you leave tomorrow. She knows you aren’t in the bathroom because she was just there. You are nowhere in the apartment. Did she get the date wrong?

Sae-byeok might have to pause a morning of pickpocketing—which she calls work now…again—to figure out if you actually left. She steps out the apartment, knowing there aren’t any traces of you inside.

Her mouth is set in a hard line, growing more worried by the second.

She sweet sense of relief bubbles in her stomach when she sees you sitting on the concrete staircases leading to the complex—you were painting something. She swallows back a sigh of content and carefully makes her way to you.

When a shadow looms through your small canvas you immediately flip it over to conceal it from whoever is walking past. The corners of your mouth turn up when you see who appears before you. “Hi.”

“Hi.” she greets, in the same tone of timidness. Her worries vanishing once she sits down beside you. “I thought you…”

A sense of deja vu overwhelms her looking at you. You have on your denim overalls and sporting chipped nail polish however this time they are orange—it reminds her of the day she first met you. It boggles her mind how much things changed since then.

“Left?” you question with a chuckle. “No, I just went to drop off Cheol.”

Sae-byeok’s chest fills with pride. She insisted last night that you wouldn’t drop off Cheol solely to get enough rest, however you did it anyway. No one cared for her or her brother this much.

“Where’s your suitcase though?” she mutters. She stares at her folded hands so you couldn’t see her cheeks turn pink.

“Oh, I forgot it in Ji-yeong’s room. She was helping me pack last night.”

You start putting away your brushes and watercolor set back in your bag, however the canvas was still facing away from her. It peaks her interest because usually you’ll proudly present your work.

“What are you working on?” she asks you, trying to peer over your work.

“I can’t tell you yet.” you say cheekily, wagging your paint stained finger in her face. “It’s a surprise.”

She raises a suspicious brow but doesn’t poke you any further. If anything, it excites her that you still find ways to make her stomach all fuzzy. Not that she’ll ever admit it though.

Today feels bittersweet. Although it’s your last full day, today is the only time you have your schedule free ironically enough. Sae-byeok has to take advantage of that—she still wishes for the day you two do nothing together and today might be it.

“Wanna go grab a meal. On me?” she asks out of the blue.

“That’d be great.” you say, after you finish packing your things. Your smile gets wider just looking at her timid eyes that she tries masking with a poker face. “You want to go right now?”

Sae-byeok nods. She waits for you to put your belongings back inside the apartment and all while she tries preventing her face muscles from forming a grin. When you come back, you seem to be in higher spirits because with every step you make, there was a slight bounce to them.

“Can’t believe you’re leaving already.” Sae-byeok sighs.

The restaurant was quaint and hidden beneath the towers of flashy signs with only two tables inside for sitting. However, you both enjoy the fact that it was so small, it made this day all more intimate and personal. And you both got the perfect seating near the window.

You both decide to share a large bowl of noodles with black bean sauce.

“Yeah.” you reply to her with an anxious chuckle. “I’m nervous—I’m going to be with all sorts of international students so I don’t know if I’ll make any friends.”

“You’ll have fun regardless.” she says coolly before slurping a serving of noodles.

“Is that my shirt?”

Sae-byeok quizzically looks at you before peering down at the shirt she’s wearing. A slightly oversized blue stripped button up shirt she barely remembers picking.

“You—You said I could—“

“Oh. Right.” you facepalm. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Two nights back, you were sorting through and choosing clothes to bring to Italy. And you offered Sae-byeok some of your clothes you weren’t bringing along. Although she was highly reluctant at first, this was the only item of clothing she picked.

“I could give it back to you—“

“No. It’s yours now. It looks nice.”

After that you both silently finish eating the noodles. Your faces flush whilst avoiding making eye contact.

After you two confessed, you both began acting more awkwardly towards each other. Neither of you knew what to say or how to act around each other. And neither of you told anyone what occurred that night. As days pass by, the tension just got thicker.

At one point you both dip your chopsticks in the bowl, causing them to collide against each other. You quickly mutter an apology while Sae-byeok blinks rapidly. It was just too awkward.

“Thanks for the meal.” you murmur after Sae-byeok finishes paying.

“I owed you one remember?” she says to you and covertly focuses on the small grin forming on your lips.

It would be a lie to say that she didn’t think about that night more than she’d like. Especially whenever you smile, it’s like she could still feel your lips moving against hers. When she realizes what she’s currently thinking of, she clears her throat and soars off her seat.

“Do you want to spend the rest of the morning together?” you hesitantly suggest once you’re out of the restaurant.

“What?” she mutters, still dazed and scared that you read her thoughts.

“You’re probably busy but I just wanted to spend the rest of the morning with you before you know…”

She clears her throat again. “Sure.”

“Any place in mind?”

A glint of mischief forms in Sae-byeok’s eyes making your eyebrows furrow up. She nods in a direction for you to follow and you just let her lead the way.

A relatively short and silent walk led you both to a familiar block you remember running away from a gangster. Sae-byeok notices the crestfallen expression surfacing your face when you figured out where she’s taking you.

“Don’t worry.” she reassures you. And you just silently take her word for it.

She grabs your hand when you both spot her old job and your old apartment then starts walking faster. Her eyes dart around like an owl in the night, making sure prey isn’t in sight. The visible confusion in your face doesn’t dissipate when Sae-byeok lures you to the back of the bakery building, where there is only a narrow staircase leading up high.

“What’s—“

Sae-byeok places her pointer finger onto her lips to signal for your silence as she opens the door to the rooftop. There, she pulls two familiar plastic chairs for you two to sit on the edge of the roof.

“I used to come here during my breaks.” she explains flatly and pats the empty seat beside her for you to sit.

You clutch the straps of your bag and stiffly sit down. She chuckles in amusement.

“Don’t worry. No one knows about this place.” she states, a teasing smile indistinctly forming. “Besides, you’re a little reckless too aren’t you?”

You throw her a look. “You have a cute smile.” you say bluntly, completely throwing Sae-byeok off. “Sorry, that was my recklessness talking.”

She rolls her eyes. “Shut up.” she grumbles yet the smile still remains.

“I’m serious though,” you say, looking far ahead at the city beneath you. “I think you’re really pretty. And—I meant to tell you that for a while.”

The confession made her eyes grow wide. She couldn’t stop looking at you and your scarlet face.

“You’re pretty.” Sae-byeok whispers. If the wind blew any louder you would’ve missed it. “And cool.”

“No,” you snort. “you’re cooler. And tougher. And badass.”

Sae-byeok hums to herself to think. Being a woman of few words she wants to try her best to her thoughts now.

“I think…” she speaks up. “there are different types of cool people. And you’re the artistic—freedom of expression type of cool.”

Your entire face lit up. “Wow. That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

“How did you do it?” she blurts out. “Express yourself?”

You blink at her. “Oh…Well, it wasn’t until I got to college when I started experimenting. Before that I was just trying hard to fit in. But when I got to college everyone was so colorful and fun I slowly began to be more…spontaneous I guess.”

“…When you come back maybe you could help me?”

“Of course. I’d love that.”

The exchange of fleeting glances is reciprocated for a second before you both look away.

“Sae-byeok.”

“Hm?

“You’ll be okay, right?” you ask apprehensively. “I know you’re incredibly resilient and smart but I’m just worried—“

“Don’t.” she interrupts. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just focus on enjoying your trip.”

“Yes, I know it’s just—“

“You said it yourself. I’m smart and resilient. Everything will be okay—I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

You let out a huge exhale of relief. “Alright. You’re right.”

“And I just want to say,” she breathes, scooting her chair so she could get closer to you. “thank you for everything. Not just for helping with rent this month or dropping off and picking up Cheol but…I discovered a lot about myself and a big part of that is due to you.”

Your pupils dilate just by merely observing her. Sae-byeok couldn’t help her rapid chest movement after speaking and she goes back to sink further in her seat.

“That means a lot to me that you said that.” you murmur happily. Sae-byeok’s eyes get rounder, this overwhelming feeling of kindness and admiration is going to give her a heart palpitation. But she hides it so well you don’t even know. “Could I ask you one more thing?”

“Yeah.”

“What were you like…before you came down south?”

Sae-byeok’s expression dulls up. No one has ever asked her that question before. The unimaginable horrors she’s been apart of whilst being Deok-su’s posse made her forget about her life before all the crimes. But you patiently wait as she takes her time to regain the blurry memories back.

“I remember that I wasn’t always like this. When I was a kid I think I was pretty lively—like a child should be. You know, I always thought I would have a miserable life for a long time. Even by the time I rescue my mom I had a feeling I would still be this lonely, untrustworthy person till the moment I die…But it wasn’t until I came here and saw my father get killed that I buried that part of me a long time ago…now I don’t know what it feels like to be a youthful person. I’m sorry I don’t really remember…”

Sae-byeok flinches when she feels a finger pad trace down her face. She blinks at you and it dawns to her that she was getting teary eyed. And you were wiping them off.

“It must’ve been hard for you.”

“Yeah.” she mutters.

“But you’re not alone anymore.”

Sae-byeok wishes that would be true. But a deep dark part of her still thinks otherwise. She slowly adverts her gaze back at you—like she was trying to get one good look at you before you go. Because soon enough, you will become faded memories in the cruel passage of time. But to not worry you, she just shakes her head.

“Are you alright?” you ask seeing her sullen expression deepen.

“Yeah.” she quickly says.

You stare at her, still skeptical. “…Okay.” you whisper.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

“It’s going to be so boring here now.” Cheol grumbles, arms crossed whilst watching you from the couch.

“Ouch.” Ji-yeong grumbles at the boy, pressing her chest to her heart as if she was in pain.

“Sorry…” he winces.

You were currently crouching in front of the living room trying to zip up your carryon suitcase. And by the looks of it, with your large sunglasses and sun hat, you are ready for an amazing journey through Italy.

In all honesty, you are still deeply in denial about this once in a lifetime opportunity granted to you. You still feel guilty about leaving everything behind—even your internship at the gallery especially after the begrudging look your boss gave you two weeks ago when you told him the news. It’ll be hard for you to navigate this short coming life across the globe without your friends and Sae-byeok, who you aren’t sure where to place her—friend or something more complicated. But relationship or not, what you two built was the most beautiful thing. And…she might be the person you miss most of all. You assume she feels the same with the intense gaze she’s giving you. It was like she’s trying to bore you into her mind.

“When I get back you’ll have so many cool paint sets everyone in your class is going to be envious of you.” you tell Cheol with a mischievous look he exchanges back.

You let out a huge sigh of relief after successfully closing the suitcase thanks to Ji-yeong sitting on top of it to apply pressure.

“My ass hurts now.” she whines and leaps back up.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket so you scramble to check it. This being your first time boarding an airplane you want to arrive there extra early, meaning every second needs to be accounted for this early morning Saturday.

“The taxi is almost here.” you gasp and remove your sunglasses and hat off your head.

Your heart rate increases now, it’s getting more real by the second.

The living room grows quiet for a brief moment, all sharing with the knowing that you’re truly going away. Ji-yeong is the first to envelope you in a bear hug.

“Bye, Ji.” you say against her hair, reciprocating the embrace.

“Can’t believe you’re going to fucking Italy.” she says with a laugh. “You always had it in you though so I shouldn’t be surprised. Have fun, alright? Wait—not too much fun actually.”

“I won’t.” you roll your eyes and give her one last squeeze before letting go.

The pang in your chest became more intense when Cheol rushes to give you a hug as well. Now, it all is starting to feel real. This is happening—you’re going.

“I’m going to miss you a lot, Noona.” he says with a pout.

“You’ll see me soon enough.” you assure him. “Take care of my acrylic sets, okay? Oh, and when you use acrylic don’t forget to prime your canvas before you—“

Sae-byeok coughs and signals you start heading out.

“Right.” you stammer and send Cheol a thumbs up. “Good luck, little artist.”

Sae-byeok removes her hands from her jean pockets to grab your suitcase for you. Cheol and Ji-yeong mutter their last goodbyes to you out the door—you already start getting choked up.

The day was still so young, yet it all felt like it was over. You were having a hard time swallow back the tears.

“How long until the taxi arrives?” Sae-byeok asks flatly, leaning against the apartment building once you’re both outside.

“Five minutes…” you trail off.

You and her look at each other, sharing the same forlorn expression. If you know her well enough, Sae-byeok was putting on a hard front to not appear sad for you. But it was all in her shimmery eyes, it said everything.

“Before I go,” you sniffle as you pull out something from your personal bag. You pull out a small rectangular item that’s covered in red gift wrap. “here’s the painting.”

Sae-byeok looks at you and back at the gift, slowly reaching for it. She pushes herself off the wall to stand closer to you.

“You finished it already?” she murmurs in awe, tracing the striped wrapping paper with her finger.

“It was already done when you saw it this morning I just needed to sign it of course.” you wink. Before she dug her nails into it you clamp your hand on top of hers. “Open it when I’m gone.”

Sae-byeok sighs. She checks the time on her phone and gulps like she was nervous to speak.

“I had fun yesterday. I wish we did more of that when we had the time.” she confesses quickly since time is running out.

“Once I come back we’ll have many more of these don’t worry.”

But at this point you couldn’t hold back the tears threatening to spill. You kept smiling but your eyes were flooding.

In panic, Sae-byeok gently placed the gift against the wall and heads closer to you to start wiping away the tears streaking across your face. After you felt her touch, the waterworks got more intense.

“Don’t cry.” she murmurs gently.

“But I’ll miss you.” you choke up and let out a hiccup after failing to hold back the tears.

“I’ll…I’ll miss you too.”

Even after finishing wiping your streak of tears, she doesn’t remove her hands from holding the sides of your face. Like she remains frozen due to your touch. You two stare at each other, silently asking the same question. The quiet response was you both leaning closer to share a sweet kiss.

“When you come back I promise we will figure us out.” she mutters against your lips, staring into your eyes beneath her long eyelashes.

You respond back by kissing her one last time, fully savoring the feeling of her—not caring about the fact that you two were pressed against the wall outside the apartments. Not when you’ll be gone in a split second.

You gasp into the kiss when you hear the screeching of tires behind your back. Your heart completely falls into the pit of your stomach when you see the taxi pull up.

Sae-byeok holds her breath and takes one last look at you before reaching for your suitcase. She helps the taxi driver put your luggages in the trunk and reaches to open the car door for you.

“Bye, have fun—“

You cut her off by engulfing her into a hug. Inhaling deeply, you also want to remember the woody scent of her cologne and run your fingers through her short tousled hair. If it wasn’t in your imagination, you could’ve sworn you felt her chapped lips press against your cheek.

“Don’t forget—you aren’t alone, Sae-byeok. I’ll be back soon.” you whisper into her ear one last time before pulling apart.

Her bottom lip is quivering but she nods and gestures you to enter inside the car. She shuts the door gently and waves at you through the car window. Your face is almost hidden beneath the window tints but she could almost catch your small smile and teary eyes as the car starts driving off. She doesn’t move from her spot until the car becomes a small obscure dot in the distance.

She takes a long deep breath. The emptiness she had in her chest, she could feel it coming back.

Control yourself, she thinks and bends down to pick up the canvas you wrapped for her.

“So, did you guys kiss?” Ji-yeong asks the second Sae-byeok enters the apartment.

“K—Kiss?” Cheol stammers.

“Ji-yeong.” Sae-byeok sighs in disappointment. “Not now.”

While she reaches to shut the door, she didn’t see the worried looks Ji-yeong and her brother shared. It’s like they knew that she was holding it all together by a thread. But they fall silent after she spoke, knowing that anything else they might say or do might cause an avalanche.

Sae-byeok marches to her room and locks the door. With a large exhale she sits by the edge of her bed and stares intensely at the gift. She sniffles and forcibly holds back tears as she aggressively tears open the wrapping paper.

It’s unclear how long she continues to stare at the painting. But her jaw slackened just admiring every brush stroke, and her fingers gently trace down to the signature you marked at the bottom. It was a large garden of flowers with a beautiful blue and purple sky backdrop. The only flowers in the field being yellow lilies and lavender you gifted her a while back as bouquets because they reminded you of her. She remembers it well enough. Now regret brews in her stomach that she rejected them because you must still remember.

She couldn’t hold back anymore. Her mouth opens to let the sobs escape her. When Sae-byeok blinks away the tears, she didn’t notice some droplets splatter onto your art work, permanently leaving tear marks on it.

Her life is still full of uncertainties and now that you’re gone she wonders what obstacles she has to overcome to stabilize her life again. She knows it won’t be easy.

And she knows for certain that this will be the last and only time she will let her emotions get the best of her. After this day, she will bring her guard up to the fullest extent. And she will do anything in her power to stay afloat by the time you arrive again.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss @everly-summers-solace @we1rdth0ughts @wlvlurvsfimmia

[pissdrinker5000]

the first taste

a hamzah fic

warnings: smutty, kinda dom hamzah, fem reader, not proofread sry for any typos!!

(there was actually a whole part 1 to this but it did not save so heres the pt 2.. sry if there are references from pt 1.. just use ur imagination ig)

You both sit on Hamzahs couch, watching the show he begged you to watch with him, swearing he's going to put you on despite it not being a genre you typically enjoy. Red and Blue lounge on the couch next to Hamzah. After what feels like hours, but is really only halfway through one episode, Hamzah does the classic move, yawning and putting one arm around your shoulder. You shift a bit closer to him, your thighs now pressed against one another's. Your hearts are both racing, and you can't bring yourself to look at him, despite your desire to trace your gaze along his lips and his black curls again.

Hamzah suddenly breaks the tension, as if it was physically paining him not to, but he doesn't really know what to say. "Uh, you look really nice in that outfit."

Surprised, you look down as if you forgot you even had a physical body. And truthfully, you had been so preoccupied thinking about him that you almost did forget. "Thank you. It was just whatever I could find," you lie. You didn't want him to know how much you agonized over picking an outfit this morning. "You look good, too."

He smiles at you, making eye contact for the first time in a while. "Nah, it's just a hoodie and some pants I had laying on the floor."

You both chuckle, knowing the other is lying about how much effort they put into simply getting dressed.

He leans closer to you. Your faces are now close enough that you feel each other's breathing. Your eyes travel from his eyes to his lips. His breath stifles when he notices.

It feels like everything around you has dissolved, and all you can think about is bringing your lips to his. Closing that gap. You're far too nervous to make such a move, though. You try to look away in an attempt to break the tension, but Hamzah lifts his left hand to your face. You feel your skin melt against his touch. His hands are warm and surprisingly soft. He gently nudges your face back to look at him.

You can see the hesitation is his eyes, nervous to mess up what you two have. He leans even closer but stops right before your lips touch, looking up at you for reassurance. You try to tell him with just your eyes how badly you want this, and he somehow gets the message.

He leans in completely, your lips melting together as if they have been longing for each other your entire lives. His kiss is desperate, needy. He pulls away for a second to look into your eyes, and you smile each other before leaning back in, this time more desperate than the first. You place your hand on the back of his head, intertwining your fingers between his thick curls. His hand that was once on your cheek travels down to your waist and pulls you onto his lap.

His other hand makes its way to behind your ear, deepening the kiss. You have never moved this fast with anyone before, but you're filled with an overwhelming desire to explore his entire body. Your imagination races thinking about what he's hiding under those baggy clothes. His left hand sneaks underneath your cardigan and plays with the hem of your top. You twitch slightly at the feeling of his touch on your bare skin, and you accidentally let out a soft noise. He takes this as a sign to kiss you harder than you thought was possible, as you were already extremely close.

Your bodies get hotter, sweat starting to form, and you feel suffocated by the layers you're wearing. You pull back from the kiss to take off your cardigan, and Hamzah takes the opportunity to remove his hoodie, revealing a t-shirt with a stupid ironic saying on it. You crack a smile as you read it before he places both of his hands on your waist and pulls you back towards him to kiss you. This time closer than before. You can feel his bulge harden as your weight pushes down on it. This makes him let out a small groan. His hands become even more desperate, traveling down to your thighs. He grips your upper thigh, unable to hide his desire to be closer to you.

"Hamzah..." You let out in a soft whine.

He pulls back to ask, "Is everything okay?"

You nod your head, not breaking eye contact. "Perfect." You smile and lean in to kiss him again, but are surprised by him laying you down on the couch and positioning himself on top of you.

He looks so hot leaning above you like this, and you can't help but squirm underneath him, your pussy practically begging for him to be inside you.

"You're so beautiful," he remarks. "I knew since the moment I saw you that I'd be obsessed with you." His voice is low and soft. You become aware of the wet mess happening in your undies.

He uses his right hand to cup your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, while his left hand travels to your chest. You squirm and let out a soft, desperate moan as his fingers graze your nipple. Your lips collide once again, your tongues clashing inside each other's mouths. You move your hands to the waistband of his pants, sliding your fingers inside the seam. His hips buckle at the sensation, and he lets out a deep groan into your mouth, refusing to break the kiss. He lets his weight fall on top of you, your crotches pushing against each other needily. "Fuck," he groans.

You push him up and move your hands to the button on his pants, waiting for reassurance before you go any further. "Keep going," he breathes. "Please." You unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper, feeling his length fill up the space that has now opened up. He quickly starts to do the same for your pants, pulling them off as fast as he can, then assisting you with taking off his own. He pulls away from the kiss to admire your now exposed thighs and panties. He licks his lips as he moves his hands down your thighs and places a thumb on your pussy, feeling how wet you are for him. You moan and thrust your hips into his hand, almost involuntarily, overwhelmed by the feeling of him touching you so gently. He grins. Knowing how badly you want him, he's filled with confidence.

You notice the shift from hungry to insatiable, but you don't have long to think about it before he is back to work, kissing you again, moving one hand to grip your tit while the other presses harder into your crotch. Your moans become louder as he handles your body with an increasing confidence. "You're so hot... Where have you been my whole life?" He whispers to you while placing hungry kisses on your neck.

His thumb begins to pull down your panties, and he starts to finger you with his middle and ring finger, using the others to spread your pussy open for easy access. You start to respond to his question, but he shoves his fingers inside you, making you gasp. You forgot what you were even going to say, and all you can muster is a stifled, "Fuck, you're so good," through loud moans.

He thrusts his fingers in an out at the perfect rhythm, making you desperate for more. You move your hands to the waistband of his underwear, but he moves them away, not letting you pull them off. "Wait here, okay?" He says as he leans upright and begins to walk to his room. You wait patiently, listening to him shuffle around, opening and closing drawers. He comes out with a condom in a blue foil package between his fingers. "You okay with this?" He asks, making sure he didn't misread any cues. You nod enthusiastically, smiling up at him. The lighting in his apartment, or maybe it's just your angle, illuminates his muscles. You can't help but stare at his arms as he removes the condom from its wrapper and pulls it onto his length.

He climbs on top of you again and leans down to kiss you. His kiss is just as hungry as before, but with a note of satisfaction that he is finally able to do what he's been waiting for. Finally able to show you what it's like to get fucked by him. Finally able to have his way with your body, like he's wanted to since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't expect to fall in love with anyone any time soon, but now that he knows you, he can't imagine how he got through life without you for so long.

He rubs his dick along your clit, savoring the feeling of your wet pussy. "You're so wet," he remarks in a low grumble.

Your head feels dizzy with desire, and you moan at his touch. "Just fuck me already," you plead, unable to contain your desperation for him. He follows your instruction, slowly pushing his thick cock into your pussy, making you gasp in a whiny moan.

He smirks at the reaction he is able to get from you, and places his hand on your jaw as he thrusts in and out of your tight pussy. He moves his thumb over your mouth, gesturing for you to open. "Such a pretty girl. You're so good," he praises you as you open your mouth and start sucking on his thumb. He pushes it deep into your throat. "You take it so well, love. I'm impressed."

You melt hearing him call you "love." He thrusts into your pussy deeper and harder. "Let's see just how much you can take, huh?" He removes his thumb from your mouth and replaces it with a kiss, before gripping your waist to hold your body steady.

[sillygoofyqueer]

So, originally Crowyuan occured when Bingge was already Demon Emperor, then came the idea of him becoming known as the Corvid King while Binghe was still a little disciple. What if he transmigrates and becomes known as the Corvid King before Binghe is even born? What if he finds this poor abused slave boy and decides This Is Mine Now before realising Oops! He's taken the scum villain under his wing, metaphorically and possibly physically too. Too bad, that's his son/little brother now. Oh but what if he transmigrates a little earlier and it goes the same except it's with both Shen Jiu AND Yue Qi? Or with all the other slave children too because he feels bad just saving two, even if those two are the only ones relevant to the original plot?

Wow....the Original™ Crowyuan timeline........back in the good old days where I didn't have so many different AUs to think about.....(/silly I love them all) ANYWAY. Corvid King crowyuan would definitely stumble across the street kids - he gains B-points n shit through answering prayers and gaining followers, so of course he's going to listen to the prayers of some poor little street children with nowhere else to go. It's not like he doesn't have the means to look after them, whether that be giving them to couples who badly want a child but can't have one for whatever reason, or placing them into orphanages that he funds himself (note: they don't know that he's funding it, they just believe there's a generous rich person donating whenever they need the money). However, when he's dealing with this new band of street kids, there is one child who just....does not want to let go of him. He scorns Crowyuan's existence when the deity first finds them in the alleys, offering gentle words of reassurance despite the late hour and leading the children along (yes, "Come Little Children" style, what kind of animal do you take me for?). Unlike the other naïve idiots, Shen Jiu and Yue Qi have seen this played out before. A stranger comes in the night, promising food and a home and love, and those who follow are found not long after. Dead. Crowyuan watches on in...a mixture of respect and worry as one of the children tries to explain the danger of following strangers in the night to the others, and another stands back and watches it happen, scorn clear upon his face. These children should not know the harsh dangers of life, not so young, but it is good that at least two of them are smart enough to not trust strangers, even if that isn't necessary in this instance. So, he offers proof of who he is. He sits down and tells them who he is, and he makes them pray, so he can listen to what they want. The snappy, unimpressed child doesn't, he just glares and scoffs when his friend drops his head down, but then shifts as if to protect him if necessary. When he respond's to this friend's prayer aloud - "Xiao-Jiu would be happy and safe in a bed, I think" - everyone seems to startle. (Of course, he has to repeat this exercise many times until this snappish child, this 'Xiao-Jiu', finally relents). He finally is able to lead these children to a nearby orphanage, ran by people who could do so much good with just the right amount of gold, and he drops them off there along with a pouch filled with gold. However, when he turns to leave, Xiao-Jiu clings to him. He stares up at him with a sort of fury in his eyes, demanding to know who he thinks he is, ditching them after dumping them off with these random people. A street child who speaks to a god, whose fear of being left by his saviour outweighs his fear of the power this creature wields, and does not hesitate to cling to this deity's robes with his dirty hands.

[dailyd0ses]

A Rose Without Thorns Pt. 2

Mama Rose from Gypsy on Broadway x Female Reader

The night stretched on, but for the first time in what felt like years, Rose slept.

It wasn’t a deep sleep—she tossed and turned, mumbling in her dreams, fingers twitching as if she were still conducting some unseen orchestra—but it was sleep nonetheless. And in the quiet hours before dawn, when the city outside your window softened into a gentle hum, you found yourself lying awake, thinking about the woman now resting under your roof.

Rose Hovick. The infamous stage mother, the woman who built stars and burned bridges, who had spent her life chasing dreams that never truly belonged to her. The same woman who, just hours ago, had been sitting on a cold bench with nowhere to go.

She was a force of nature. But even storms had to settle eventually.

By morning, the scent of fresh coffee filled the apartment. You were already up, seated at the small kitchen table, flipping idly through a newspaper when you heard the shuffle of footsteps.

"Smells good," Rose muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You glanced up to see her standing in the doorway, draped in her fur coat over the same dress from last night, though now slightly wrinkled. Her hair was tousled, but not in a careless way—it softened her somehow, made her look less like Madame Rose and more like just Rose.

"Hope you take it strong," you said, pushing a mug toward her.

She let out a tired chuckle as she sat across from you. "Darling, after the life I’ve had? The stronger, the better."

She took a sip and sighed, her whole body seeming to deflate just a little.

For a while, there was only the quiet sound of coffee cups clinking against saucers.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"So, what’s your story?"

You raised an eyebrow. "My story?"

"You took me in last night like it was nothing," she said, studying you over the rim of her mug. "Either you’re a saint, or you’ve got your own ghosts keeping you up at night."

You smirked. "Maybe both."

Rose hummed, as if she weren’t entirely convinced, but she let it go.

Instead, she leaned back, tapping her fingers against the side of her mug. "I don’t know what the hell I’m doing," she admitted.

"With what?"

She gestured vaguely. "With this."

You tilted your head. "With staying here?"

"With..." She hesitated, searching for the words. "With letting someone help me. With letting myself stop for once."

That caught your attention.

"You’ve never stopped before, have you?" you asked gently.

She gave a short, humorless laugh. "Not once."

You studied her for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. "Maybe it’s time you did."

She scoffed. "And do what, exactly?"

You shrugged. "Figure out what you want. Not for June. Not for Louise. Not for show business. Just you."

Rose fell silent at that, her fingers tightening slightly around her cup.

It was a terrifying thought, wasn’t it? She had spent her whole life chasing dreams on behalf of others. What was left when there was no one left to chase for?

Finally, she exhaled, shaking her head. "You really are something, you know that?"

You grinned. "So I’ve been told."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but there was something else in her eyes now. A quiet curiosity. A shift.

"You could stay," you offered before you could stop yourself. "At least for a little while. Until you figure things out."

Rose arched an eyebrow. "Are you always this generous with broken women?"

"Only the interesting ones."

She let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. "You’re dangerous, kid."

You smirked. "Not half as dangerous as you."

For a long moment, she just looked at you, something unreadable flickering across her expression. And then, ever so slightly, she nodded.

"Alright," she murmured. "I’ll stay."

Rose stayed.

At first, it was temporary. A few days, she told herself. Maybe a week, just until she figured out her next step. But days turned into weeks, and weeks stretched into something that neither of you bothered to name.

She made herself at home in small ways. Leaving her fur coat draped over the back of your couch. Setting her coffee cup in the sink but never actually washing it. Fixing the placement of your picture frames with an absentminded precision, as if she were arranging props for a show.

She still carried the weight of years spent fighting, pushing, demanding—but in your space, she started to ease, bit by bit.

One night, you found her in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a dish with the same intensity as if she were directing an orchestra.

"You don’t have to do that, you know," you said, leaning against the doorway.

She scoffed. "What, you think I don’t know how to do dishes?"

"I think you’ve spent too many years having other people do them for you."

She smirked. "Well, maybe I’m finally learning to fend for myself."

"That’s assuming I kick you out," you teased.

Rose turned her head slightly, giving you a long, unreadable look. Then, to your surprise, she sighed and muttered, "You’d be a fool to keep me around, you know."

"Why’s that?"

"I ruin everything I touch." She rinsed the dish a little too forcefully, the water splashing over the sink. "Everyone leaves. Even when I give ‘em the world, they still go."

"You didn’t give them the world, Rose," you said gently. "You gave them a dream. There’s a difference."

She stiffened.

For a moment, you thought you’d pushed too far. But then, she let out a breath and shut off the sink.

"You’re a smart one, aren’t you?" she muttered.

You smiled. "So I’ve been told."

She grabbed a towel, drying her hands with slow, thoughtful movements. Then, she turned to face you fully, leaning against the counter.

"You never told me why you took me in that night," she said.

You shrugged. "Because you looked like you needed it."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it."

She studied you, her sharp gaze searching, as if trying to decipher a script that hadn’t been written yet.

"You know, I’ve never—" She stopped herself, clicking her tongue. "Ah, never mind."

You tilted your head. "Never what?"

She hesitated.

Then, with an almost defiant lift of her chin, she said, "Never been looked at the way you look at me."

The words settled in the air between you, delicate and dangerous all at once.

You swallowed, holding her gaze. "And how do I look at you?"

Rose exhaled sharply, like she couldn’t believe she was even having this conversation. "Like I’m more than just the mess I’ve made."

You took a step closer. Not too close—just enough to let her know you were listening. That you saw her.

"You are more than that," you said softly.

She didn’t look away.

For once, Rose—who had spent her whole life running, chasing, fighting—didn’t retreat.

Instead, she nodded. Just slightly. Just enough.

And for the first time in a long, long time, she allowed herself to believe it.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎUndressed (Part Two)౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎmasterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: breaking and entering, brief mention of potential sexual assault pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: in a chase, billy finds you in the woods author’s note: enjoy pt 2! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Men were scary and vicious and brutal. They would only take what they wanted and leave you cold, not a single ounce of sympathy in their bodies. At least, that's what your mother had told you. All your life, they'd been likened to fairy tale monsters, the villain in anyone's story, even their own.

In your storybooks, men always seemed to be good. They were rescuers, romantic and charming and strong, their only jobs to love. It confused you because it was the exact opposite of what your mother had told you. The princes never looked reluctant. They were always starry eyed, nothing existing for them except the princess in their arms.

Of course you confronted your mother about it. One of the times she was home, you showed her the picture, utterly perplexed. She'd laughed, closing your book and setting it on a higher shelf. "People like to make things up."

"But there has to be at least one," you insisted, tugging on her skirt. "One nice one?"

"Maybe someday we'll find one for you," she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

After she left, you used a chair to retrieve your book back, hiding it under your pillow. It was your treasure, your connection to the future. You longed to see the world the way the colorful illustrations showed it. And even though you never admitted it, you were curious about men. Were they really as bad as your mother said? She did have more experience, and she'd chosen to protect you from everything.

Now you were hiding in the chest of one who'd been a stranger not too long ago. And he wasn't pushing you away or making you feel bad. No, Billy was holding you, his arms warmer and safer than anywhere you'd ever been. And you'd thought you were safe before.

"It's okay," he muttered under his breath when you whimpered at another round of pounding on the door. "It's okay, we're gonna get you out of here..." Billy looked down at you, his expression unreadable.

"What?" you whispered, tensing again.

"Is there a window somewhere?" he asked urgently, and you nodded.

"In my room."

"Okay." He nodded, and you could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. "Okay. Can you take me there?"

You nodded back, waiting for him to take his hat from the table before hurrying him into the hallway and behind your door. Just as it was shut and locked, you heard the sound of splintered wood, deep voices filling the space. You flew back into Billy's arms, releasing the doorknob like it was on fire.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, holding you with one arm. "It's alright. Good, we've got a window." He walked you over, reaching his free hand out to open it while holding his gun.

Letting go of you, Billy worked himself out one leg at a time, knocking his hat off when he bent his head. You picked it up, fidgeting and taking in nervous breath. Your chest was tight, mind spiraling into doom.

Once he'd gotten the rest of him outside, he held out a hand and you passed him his hat. But once he had it on, he was reaching for you again. "C'mere."

"I can't," you whispered, aware of the voices getting closer. Maybe if you hid they wouldn't find you?

"You've gotta come with me," Billy insisted, reextending his hand. His eyes were fraught with worry, and you froze staring at him. "They're gonna hurt you if you don't."

"I can't leave," you breathed, jolting when the doorknob began to rattle.

"I promise I'll bring you back," he said hurriedly, nodding as you tentatively reached for his hand. "It's okay." You began to scoot yourself through the window, ducking so you wouldn't hit your head on the frame. Billy paused before helping you along with his hands on your waist, sliding you effortlessly onto the ground. "There we are. Good girl." He elbowed the window shut, taking your hand again as you crept around the side of the cottage.

Even through the walls you could hear them rummaging around inside. It made you want to cry- the idea of them ravaging the only home you'd ever known. Tears bubbled up behind your eyes as you thought about it, and you sniffled, catching Billy's attention again.

"It's okay," he promised softly, squeezing your hand. "I won't let them hurt you." You nodded, crouching with him in the bushes, eyes on the man ahead standing guard at the horses. Billy lifted his free hand, pointing discreetly. "See that white one?" You nodded again. "That one's mine. When I say so, I want you to run over to him. Got it?" You nodded a third time, and he let go of your hand. "Stay here for now."

Billy managed to make it out of the bushes without catching any notice, keeping his footsteps quiet. He stealthily approached the man from behind, turning to you and miming covering his eyes. You did so, a thwack and a groan the only indicator afterwards.

Peeking between your fingers, you first registered the sight of the body lying spread-eagled on the ground, and then Billy creeping towards his horse. He turned sideways to you, motioning for you to follow. Heart pounding like a hammer, you made your way to his side, trying not to gasp when he lifted you to sit on the saddle. Billy hauled himself up behind you, his thighs thick and warm pressed against you. Now your fear had a companion you couldn't name, but you found you didn't want it to go so soon as the former.

There was a crash from inside the house. You shuddered, and his hand flew to your middle, warm over your belly. It was like he was steadying you. "I've got you. We're gonna be okay." Nodding, you let yourself lean back against him, and he picked up the reins, slowly guiding the horse down the path. Whenever you'd ridden, it'd been with your mother close behind. She'd sold your old horse months ago, and you hadn't been riding since.

You'd missed it badly. And the feeling was enhanced when you were with Billy. He held himself upright, alert as you'd ever seen anyone. His instinct to protect was so natural that you wondered where else it applied.

"Easy does it," he whispered, hand flexing on you. "You're okay. You're doing good, flower-"

He was cut off by shouting. Your eyes widened, hand finding Billy's over your tummy. "Billy...they're gonna find us."

"No," he insisted, arm winding all the way around your waist. "Hold onto the saddle. We're gonna move faster, okay?"

You were nearly trembling, shaking your head instantly. "No. No I can't I can't-"

"You're okay," he repeated, voice gentle. "I'm not gonna let you get hurt." Billy shifted behind you, adjusting you against him. "Just hold on, okay?"

You had no choice. Nodding, you took in a shaky breath and clung to the saddle with one hand, fingers digging into his elbow with the other.

He couldn't move the horse too fast since he was heavier and behind you, but it was still much quicker than before. Your anxiety made it feel worse, but he was right there, steady and unmoving and guiding you through it. The sounds melted away, and you looked ahead, at the woods you'd hardly ventured beyond. The sun was close to setting, and you were momentarily fascinated by the colors that melted into one another, the way they reflected on the petals of the daisies that sprouted in the grass.

Billy rushed you both to a thicket of trees, hiding his horse behind a brush and pulling you to the ground with him. The soft grass tickled your nose, and you buried your face in your crossed arms. His hand was weighty on your back, his voice hushed. "They'll pass soon."

You were quiet, fists clenched as you waited. When hoofbeats sounded, you turned your head into his shoulder, frozen at the possibility of being caught. The voices were loud, and you tried to tune them out, smushing your ear to his shoulder. His palm covered you other ear, and you felt a warmth in your heart at the gesture.

"Ain't no sign of 'im," a voice grumbled, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "Might as well go back to that place we found."

"He might go back there," another man said. "We'll hide the horses. Maybe we'll be able to get 'im there."

"Been awhile since I slept somewhere so nice," the first man responded. "We'll do just fine."

Your chest felt hollow. Even as the men retreated, you found yourself more terrified than before. Your home, your beautiful home. The one place you'd ever known, and now it was about to be overrun by strangers.

Even after silence filled the thicket, you were cut to your heart, a worse feeling overwhelming every one of your senses. Billy whispered your name, and you lifted your head, suddenly feeling heavier than ever before.

You sat up, folding your arms around yourself, lower lip trembling. "I shouldn't have left."

"Hey..." Billy held your shoulders, removing his hat and dropping it on the grass. "It's just not right away. But I'm gonna get you back there, alright?"

"I'm not supposed to leave," you whispered, swaying back and forth. "That's the rule. I'm supposed to stay. That's what my mother always said."

"She would understand." His brow creased, a wrinkle you were tempted to reach out and smooth. "It was life or death, flower."

The name had you breathing easier somehow, thought you weren't sure when he'd picked it up. Breath still stuttering, you looked to him, trying to find comfort in his eyes. "I should have stayed."

Billy shook his head, lifting a hand to cup your cheek, making sure your gaze stayed on him. "No. You did the right thing." When his other palm found the corresponding cheek as well, you took in an easier breath. "They could've done real bad things to you. Worse than death." He swallowed, and you watched it ride down his throat. "I promise I'm gonna get you back home. But we've gotta wait it out, alright, little bird? I don't know how long, but we'll make it back soon."

"My mother," you whispered, wide-eyed as you thought of how she'd react if she came back to an empty house. Or worse, to a house full of men.

"How long does she travel for?" he questioned, using his pinkie to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"A month," you nodded, trying to stay steady. "And she j-just left."

"I'll have you back before the month is up, I promise," he insisted, nodding to emphasize it.

"Okay," you breathed, your chin dipping. "Okay. I'm okay."

"You're okay," Billy agreed, and you slumped. The sky was beginning to grow dark, and the stars were peeking their heads around sunset's corner. You found solace in them, but the new fears the night brought were beginning to probe your mind. Sleeping in the dark with a man you'd only met today wasn't something you'd ever thought you'd do, and now it was scaring you.

Billy stood you both up after a little while, keeping one hand full of the reins and keeping the other free. You told yourself to stay strong, but the second you heard a twig snap, you were clasping his fingers with yours and sticking close by his side. He didn't comment on it, letting you cling for as long as you wanted.

You ended up in a clearing, Billy's horse grazing nearby as he dug around in the saddlebags. Pulling out a maroon cardigan, he came near and held it out to you, his expression encouraging. "Here. It'll get cold."

"What about you?" you questioned, taking it cautiously.

"I run hot," he explained, sitting beside you and bending his knees, resting his elbows atop it. Tapping his thumb on his thigh, he looked over to you. "Y'know...it gets real cold in these parts at night. I don't...if you don't wanna..."

"What is it?" You blinked up at him, confused about why he was so flustered.

"I don't wanna make you uncomfortable," he got out, still drumming his fingers. "But I don't want you to be cold. If you want to you can sleep...close to me."

A shiver wracked over your body, though you weren't sure it had to do with the cold. Nodding, you squished yourself closer to him, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over your hands. Billy laid himself out on the ground, and you snuggled closer to him, trying not to think about it. He secured an arm around you, effectively giving you permission to settle against him.

You couldn't say why you were suddenly so keen to him. Every word from your mother about men had been proven right by those who'd overrun your home, but wrong by the man who'd stuttered before touching you, who'd offered himself to keep you warm. The protectiveness emanated off him, and you were the directed target.

When you stiffened at a nearby sound, his fingers curled around your wrist, but you hardly felt trapped. "It's okay. I've got you."

Your heart believed him. Your head lulled against him. The tiniest thought entered your mind about how this was just like one of your storybooks. The gallant gentleman rescuing you and folding himself around your back so you wouldn't freeze during the night.

Maybe you'd found a prince after all.

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