#oh how i love dark fairy tales...........

[alicenpai]

the girl from the other side ✨ this series gave me hope a million times but simultaneously shattered my heart into the same amount of pieces </3 (flower symbolism under cut)

sticker sheet for anime north 🍀🥧🖤🤍

SPOILERS AHEAD

forget me not - obvious reference to the Black Children and how they eventually forget who they are as they near the end of their "life cycle".

white clover (in coffin) - white clovers typically symbolize innocence.

4 leaf clover - like I wrote in a previous post on my Witch Hat Atelier seasons piece, the 4 leaf clover symbolizes luck and good fortune. Like Coco, Shiva to her loved ones is a symbol of fortune, though to the Inside Kingdom, a symbol of misfortune.

sunflower - typically symbolize strength and warmth, a fitting flower for Shiva, the light illuminating Teacher's dark past.

nasturtium - another flower symbolizing strength, and has strong ties to the "victory" after battle. apparently soldiers used to don them as a sign of a long battle won. fun fact they are also edible (don't take my post for nutritional advice please) (ill probably write a bit more on this topic when my head is more clear)

[biteofcherry]

All the better to eat you

werewolf!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You muster the courage to visit Scaretale, with your heart full of hope for a magical romance. After all, the club promises that no client would leave without having their wishes fulfilled. So the love you've been longing after should be waiting for you, right?

warnings: werewolf!Steve; dark!Steve; monsterfucking, but no bestiality; heavy dub-con; blowjob/facefucking (possibly the nastiest bj I've ever written 😳); unprotected sex; knotting; biting; size kink;

word count: 5.3k

Author's Note: This is a part of the Scaretale universe. I think it's fitting I'm starting the monster fucking extravaganza with my fave man to ruin me, right? 🤭 The title is an obvious tease on the classic Red Riding Hood text.

It was a thrill reminiscent of the first minutes of a movie. The kind you watched on a late autumn evening, with a candle lit up and hot chocolate in hand, curled up on a couch and wary of any sounds creaking inside the house. 

It spiked pulse and lured in with the mystical, almost forbidden atmosphere; keeping you on your toes in fear of something truly scary jumping out at you. 

You grew up in a rather tolerant household, taught not to be scared of monsters more than you should human men. Still, certain caution and fear pumped through your veins as you neared the entrance of the Scaretale.

A building straight out of a fairytale, situated on the border of lands between human and monstrous worlds. Though those merged fluently over the past half a century, or so. Half of your coworkers were other species. It was impolite to call them creatures, or monsters, even if that word somehow always echoed in your head. 

Perhaps you’d never have the balls to visit Scaretale, if it wasn’t for the deepening sense of loneliness and heartbreak. And since your regular methods at dating all failed, leaving you with an even worse feeling of self-loathing, the glow of the letters embroidered on the dark leaflet enticed you even more.

All fairy tales install fear, but they also give satisfying completion in the end. Come and start your own tale, find who you’ve been missing. We promise that once you get inside, you won’t leave without your ever after.

Scaretale tempted with making those dreams come true. Was it naive of you to have your heart squeezing in hope at the prospect of it? 

Not a part of you was a romantic - it was all of you. Craving someone to share the life with. You didn’t expect perfection, that was unrealistic. But you yearned for connection and support, for a warm embrace to hold you after a tiring day, for someone to call you theirs and mean it. 

Oh gods, how obsessively you sometimes wished that someone would really consider you theirs - even to the point of possessiveness, of certain ownership. 

You explained it with your prolonged lack of any deep connection and love. A hole in your heart that kept growing and growing, until it was no longer sated by casual dates and sweet flirting, but needed a more intense, obsessive kind of love.

If human men failed in that department, maybe a monster would be your match. Didn’t even have to provide a warm embrace, you joked to yourself as you readied for the night. A nice, cold vampire would do. They had years to mature, most of them had an established income, or savings, a sense of dark humor.  

So you left your apartment with your heart fluttering, moved by the flashes of dreams of a great love you’ve been chasing half of your life. 

However, the second you stepped inside the Scaretale, your heart froze for a second. 

It didn’t look scary, nor was it filled with screams and sounds of violence. Quite the contrary, the air of tranquility coated the space. But the glow within, that didn’t seem to come off of any actual lamp, heightened the sense of wariness. 

Humans were here, but it was obvious this space belonged to the monsters and was most of all their realm. That enchanting sense of calm began feeling like a mesmer that forced your body to move forward, while your brain filled with rising anxiety whispering that perhaps it would be better to leave.

Somehow, you couldn’t. 

You took a deep breath, smelling sweet berries and gardenias in the most natural combination, as if you were walking through an actual garden. It was relaxing, yet in a way seemed to clog your mind.

Maybe if you went outside for a minute to breathe the crispy, chilly air of late October evening, it would clear your head and help you regroup your thoughts. 

Even as that thought formed in your head, your body didn’t move toward the exit. Only a step forward.

At your pace - shy and unsure, but never a step back.

The echo of the words from the leaflet clenched your heart in a tight grip. We promise that once you get inside, you won’t leave without your ever after. It appeared to be an actual enchantment. 

Scared, you looked around. No one was charging at you, no gnarly vines gripped you to swallow you under the ground. Patrons were calmly mingling around. Some sat in booths alone, simply observing the others. Maybe even looking for the same thing as you - someone to love. Or less romantically, someone to share a passionate night with. 

There were also groups, like in one of the big booths where a bunch of thickly muscled, quite scary looking orcs were drinking beer. Neither of them looked approachable, their faces seemed frozen in permanent scowl. Their bodies, though clean of any trace of it, screamed of bloodbath. 

In the center of the room, far deep inside the neverending space of the club, stood an oval bar. The shelves hanging above the counter were so thin it looked like the glasses and bottles were floating in the air, among teardrop-shaped bulbs of light. A slim, graceful bartender was running the bar; her hair long and a color of impossible blue. 

Two men sat at the bar, their gazes turning your way as you walked closer. At a first glance they appeared human, but the similarity quickly dissolved. Their dark skin had markings of burgundy red that flashed with a shade of molten lava. Between the curls of their dark hair sparked flickers of pure fire. 

Ifrits. 

A flush of heat passed over you as they scanned your form with interest. For a moment you felt a spike of curiosity, wondering how an ifrit’s heat would feel against your skin. But it quickly passed, being only a figment of natural desire, but not the deep connection you searched.

The men seemed to read you well enough to realize you weren’t one looking for an adventure and they weren’t interested in providing more than that. They nodded politely at you, then moved their gazes to roam around.

Though you felt a certain relief, there was also that bitter pang of sadness. Once again, you weren’t what someone was looking for. 

All those years you repeated over and over again to yourself, that it was okay to not be interested in someone. After all, you weren’t interested in some people either. But for so long it felt as if you were never anyone’s choice, that you couldn’t help but think you would never be. 

When you went out with your friends, back in college years, or even recently, someone always flirted up, or approached your group. Just not you. All your friends, but never you. Some talked to you, but it was obvious they weren’t interested in more. 

A dreadful thought settled with heavy weight on your shoulders. What if you were now trapped here forever? Not leaving without your ever after, but if there was no one for you, what would happen to you? 

Just when your heart squeezed painfully, your chin dropping to your chest as you stared at the dark green floor in hope to hide the shine of your tears, a low, rumbling sound teased your ear.

You didn’t feel anyone’s presence behind you, or anywhere near you, but you heard that sound. That… growl. 

Slowly, you raised your head and looked around. For a long moment you didn’t notice anyone who could’ve been the owner of that voice. Until your eyes settled on the shadowed nook across from the bar. 

Only a faint outline of the silhouette was visible from your standing point. And a pair of glowing, blue eyes. Beautiful, but wild. Something dangerous lurked in that gaze, raising goosebumps on your arms. 

Anxiety rose anew, your instincts screaming at you to run. Fast and far. But you couldn’t move your feet an inch back, only stay in place, or move forward. 

Breath hitched in your lungs as the mysterious shadow slowly stood up, stretching to its full form. He was even bigger than you assessed him to be while sitting. Those eyes held yours captive, demanding you watch him as he approached in slow steps. Once he got into the light and you took in all of him, your breathing stopped altogether. 

He wasn’t just big. He was huge! And broad. Massive. His dark clothes didn’t hide what was obviously cords of muscles on top of muscles on top of muscles. While his shoulders were wide enough to get stuck in the door, his waist was tapered. His legs were long, but with thick thighs. Legs built for running.

For chasing…

His dark blonde hair curled at his nape, his beard was thick and trimmed. You saw curls of dark golden hair covering his forearms, where the sleeves of his dark sweater were rolled up, revealing skin. 

As he approached you, his tongue swiped out to lick his bottom lip, then over the upper row of his teeth. You caught a glimpse of a sharp canine, but it wasn’t a vampiric one. 

No, this monster was very much living. Blood and flesh and all things primal.

A werewolf. 

Your body jolted, struck with an inner bolt of adrenaline. Like at a jumpscare in a horror movie, but this one very much real. 

Your heart thumped rapidly, forcing your blood to rush so fast it almost made you dizzy. It was scary. He was scary. Yet, you couldn’t help, but follow that sensation further. Just like never turning off the horror movie and continuing to watch it, even though you’re shaken and sweaty. 

“Hello.” 

His greeting was so simple, seemingly unimpressive, but the timbre of his voice alone made it a knee-weakening seduction. 

Or maybe a threat…

Because the way he loomed over you, his eyes never leaving you, you started to realize that he wouldn’t allow you to step away from him. 

“Hi,” you squeaked out, then cleared your throat to hopefully regain your normal voice. 

“I won’t ask what a sweet bunny like you is doing here,” his sharp, white teeth flashed in a truly wolfish smile, “but I will ask that you stay still while I take a first deep whiff of my future mate.”

What?! Your mind screeched. Your body, meanwhile, went still. Just like he asked. 

“Ma- what?” Your tone dried breathless. “We’re not- I’m not-”

Your words got stuck in your throat when the werewolf breached your personal space and bent down to drag the tip of his nose against your neck. 

A shiver rocked you, but a solid arm wrapped around you in a flash, steading you. Or maybe holding you in place, so you wouldn’t dare inch away from him. His incredible warmth engulfed you like a weighted blanket - a layer of comfort hidden deep beneath the scary sense of constriction and suffocation. 

He smelled of pine and burnt wood and a heady note you couldn’t describe as anything other than masculine. 

“Absolutely delicious.” He hummed appreciatively, leaning back with visible reluctance. 

“I’m not your mate,” you managed to blurt out, looking around in panic in hope that someone would come to your aid. 

“Of course not.” He smiled, but it wasn’t reassuring at all. “Not until I have you writhing on my knot and bite you.” 

The visual of it had you whimpering in fear; your eyes stung with tears that threatened to spill out. He had you caged out in the open of the club, publicly; you were sure your discomfort and trembling were visible to others; yet no one came to help you. Were they scared of the huge werewolf, or maybe they just didn’t care? 

“No, I meant that I won’t-” your nervous explanation died on your tongue the second his hand snapped your way.

His large hand cupped your chin; surprisingly gentle, even in its firm hold. However, the long claws protruding from his fingers, grazing the delicate skin of your cheeks, were far from non-threatening.

Shockingly, your body responded in contrast to your mind’s anxious thoughts. As the werewolf’s claws dug into your soft cheeks, your nipples hardened into stiff peaks. 

“You will.” Came his calm, unyielding decision. 

He yanked your face up, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes and rely your weight to be supported by his hold alone. Starking blue eyes stared down at you, the rim around the irises glowing a silvery moon. 

Then there was that grin again - sinister and teasing, with a flash of teeth (which made your skin prickle in fear of the vicious bite mauling your flesh). 

“Scaretale promises its patrons realization of their deepest desire.” He said and you felt dread building in your chest with a silent scream. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret, bunny. It’s the monsters that get the privilege of having their desires met. Sweet humans are the prey that gets to fulfill our demands.” 

Your hope shattered into a million pieces. Or was it your heart that broke for yourself and the love you were dreaming of finding. Tears welled up in your eyes as the heavy reality of entering a nightmare settled in. 

“Aww, why the tears, sweet bunny?” He cooed at you, with the pad of his thumb brushing away a tear trickling down your cheek.

“Because I didn’t want this,” your meek voice barely made it past your lips.

“I would perhaps believe you, if your nipples weren’t poking right through your pretty dress,” he chuckled. “Or-” he leaned closer, lips brushing the corner of your mouth- “if I didn’t smell your pussy priming itself for me.”

A flush of heat scorched your cheeks. You weren’t paying much attention to that part of your body, too lost in the anxious wailing of your mind, but as he mentioned your core your focus shifted to the pulse between your thighs. You weren’t wet, not exactly. But you felt that warmth and tingling; the growing interest your body had in the werewolf’s brutal ways. 

“Will you let me go? Afterwards?” You asked, sniffling quietly. 

A part of you wondered, if you had any chance fighting him off, but logic itself made that calculation quick. There was no way you would manage to slip away from his grip, without him allowing you to. So as bitter and numbing it was to accept, you knew you had to give in, to at least protect yourself from too much damage. 

A frown marred his handsome face for a second, before it relaxed into that easy charm he first greeted you with. 

“There’s no afterwards. There’s only forever.” He tenderly stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Werewolves mate for life, bunny.”

Your crushed heart gave a pang, a reawakening jolt. 

Didn’t you want someone to call you theirs forever? To own you? 

Scaretale gave you that wish, in its own very twisted, cruel way. 

“But I don’t even know your name.” Your hands twisted in the fabric of his sweater; half of your mind still considered trying to fight the monster off. 

“Steve,” he grinned. He released your chin to run his fingers down your neck and then to the back of your head. “You can tell me yours, or I can keep calling you bunny.” He gripped a fistful of your hair and nipped your earlobe with his teeth. 

“Though, I admit, I’m a sentimental man and I’d like to groan your name when I break your holes.” 

You made a pitiful sound of protest, which didn’t get a chance to really resound as Steve’s mouth claimed yours. Like with the way he moved and touched, his kiss spoke of the wild beast that ruled him. He wasn’t just kissing you, he was devouring. Conquering. 

And you melted into it. Your body became pliant and aroused. 

He tapped your swollen lips with a sharp claw, once again asking for your name. You whispered it and as your mouth parted to sound the word, Steve slipped a finger into your warm cavern. Tip of his claw teased at your tongue, causing you to stiffen in fear. Suddenly, there was pressure on the flat of your tongue as his thick finger settled on it and massaged; but there was no slice of claw anymore. 

Steve withdrew his finger, but the grip of his other hand on the nape of your neck tightened. He pushed you in front of him and led you deeper into the club’s depths. In time, lights seemed to dim and the main room divided into three corridors.

The left and right corridors were shrouded in darkness, your human eyes couldn’t see any path other than the abyss. The middle corridor was doused in glow - soft, magical, luring. 

Steve turned left and you felt yourself shiver as darkness engulfed you. He didn’t seem to have any problem in navigating the eternal, starless night that filled the tunnel. Finally, you reached the end, marked by the outline of an ornate door. The markings lit up as Steve’s hand touched the frame. 

When he pushed you through it, you stumbled into a bedroom. A cozy looking, not too big bedroom, with a massive, wood frame bed taking most of the space. The place didn’t look like a fancy hotel room, nor like a bedroom that could match Scaretale’s interior. No, this place was personal and lived in. It was someone’s home. 

A home that smelled of pine, burnt wood and musk.

You turned around, glancing at the door now closed behind Steve’s back. They didn’t look anything like the ones you stepped through, but like a normal door in what could be a cabin in the woods. 

An intricate marking glowed on the upper beam of the frame, suddenly igniting in flame that burnt all the magic out. Leaving only a reminder of the portal that was activated, but now closed permanently.

You had no way back to the Scaretale. Or your home. 

“Steve-” you took a tentative step back as your gaze returned to him.

“Strip.” He ordered, taking off his own sweater in one, swift move. 

“P-please…” you felt the sting of tears again, even as your walls pulsed at the sight of Steve’s half naked, impressive body.

His skin was fair, near marble like sculpture of defined muscles. But not as bare and smooth. Thick curls of dark golden hair covered his arms, shoulders and chest, from where it trailed low across his torso in a stripe leading to…

Holy fuck, you were going to die! 

His cock wasn’t just proportionate to the rest of his massive body, it was near monstrous looking in its shape - with the bulbous head angry red and shiny with pearly precum; pulsing veins that curved along his girth; large, heavy sack nestled in a crown of gold hair; and a thick, wide ring of a knot at the base that already felt impossible to push into any of your holes, much less when it inflated.

“I’m growing impatient, bunny,” Steve snarled, prowling towards you. “I can rip it off of you, but I don’t know if it’s a dress you really like, so I don’t want to make you sad by ruining it.” 

“Why don’t you care about making me sad by ruining me?” You snapped, but it lacked viciousness. Partly because of fear, partly because you were breathless with unexpected need. 

You had nowhere else to run when the back of your legs hit the bedframe and Steve loomed over you. 

“Trust me, bunny,” he emitted a low growl, “when I ruin your holes, you’ll feel nothing but delirious pleasure and happiness.” 

He didn’t give you a second chance to undress. With two harsh moves he ripped the fabric apart, his claws so sharp they easily sliced through. He held your gaze as he hooked one pointy talon beneath the lace of your panties. 

“Such beautiful eyes,” he murmured, slowly dragging his claw back and forth. “That fear and arousal. Can’t wait to see it as you struggle to take my cock.”

A single snick and your panties were ripped away and tossed to the side. Then Steve’s hand was curling on your shoulder and pushing you down.

“On your knees, bunny. And open your mouth wide.”

You obeyed, feeling yourself shiver as your face found itself at level with his hard dick. Your fingers trembled against your thighs; the need to slide them between your folds growing stronger than the instinct to push the predator away. 

“It won’t fit,” you stared wide-eyed at the cock bobbing in front of you. 

“It sure won’t,” Steve chuckled, cupping your face in his big palms. “But you’re still going to take it. Now, tongue out.” 

A whine shrilled in your throat when the wide crown stretched your lips and pushed deep inside. The more of him was forced forward, the wider your mouth had to open and the less room to breathe was left. A cry for mercy became only a garbled pitch as Steve held your head in place and pushed his cock to the back of your throat. 

Tears streamed down, your drool flooded out as he slowly withdrew. Your spit was sticking to the curve of his dick, strings of saliva breaking and splashing on your chin. 

When he surged forward again, your hands flew to his thick, hairy thighs. But there was no way of stopping him from taking you as he wished. It terrified you. 

It also made your pussy drip. 

“That’s all sweet, bunny,” Steve groaned, feeling your tongue moving against him helplessly, your throat constricting in resistance as he speared your mouth.

“But I need more from my little bitch!” He snarled and abruptly stepped forward. 

You were pushed backwards, forced to change your position from kneeling to landing on your butt. Your back hit the sturdy frame of the bed; your legs spread wide, knees pressed to your chest. 

Steve had your head tipped back, hands holding you in place as he fucked your face straight from above.

With your mouth and throat in one line, he could force his cock deeper. His balls were hitting your drool-covered chin over and over again. Your choking and obscene wet sounds mixed with Steve’s lewd groans of pleasure. 

“That’s it!” He moaned, dipping in and out of your throat. “Taking your mate’s cock like a good little bitch and enjoying it. I can smell it, you know.”

You wouldn’t be able to protest, even if you wanted to deny his nasty claim. The worst, however, was that Steve was right. You were spread open, dripping slick down your buttocks; your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate for that monstrous cock. 

You coughed and spluttered when Steve pulled out, a wheezing sob leaving your sore mouth. Steve slapped his wet cock against your cheek, then rubbed it all over your face, smearing your own spit and his pre-cum all over you. He barked at you to keep your pretty mouth open, then stuffed it with his heavy sack. Well, as much of it as he could fit in. 

“Suck a little, bunny,” his instruction came out breathy, betraying how affected he was by the whole ordeal. “I know they’re a mouthful, but they’re just full of all the cum I’m going to fill you with.” 

Your cunt spasmed and you let out a garbled moan. 

Finally, another reprieve for much needed air was granted. Steve took half a step back, breathing heavily as he looked down at your messy, shivering form at his feet. Dark hunger flashed in his eyes and you weren’t sure, if it was only desire, or something more dangerous. 

He picked you up so easily, lifting you into his arms with no strain and tossing you onto the bed. Instinctively, you squirmed up the mattress, seeking escape. Steve followed in that unrushed, steady prowl; like a predator, who already knew his prey was his to devour. 

He spread your legs. You stilled, feeling tips of his claws pressing into your skin. 

“My, my, bunny,” he licked his lips, “what a pretty, soaked cunt you have.” 

Steve swiped his fingers higher. You squeaked when he lightly brushed your puffed, glistening folds with his claws. It made him grin wolfishly and he pressed a little harder.

“All the better to take all of your mate’s cock,” not easing his pressure on your core, Steve stretched above you.

Your thighs stayed parted wide for him, allowing him to brace the weight of his body on one arm placed next to you, while he settled on top of you. 

“What tempting, hard nipples you have,” he continued his twisted fairy tale, his voice a deep, haunting caress. 

“All the better to suck on and torment,” Steve closed his mouth around one peak and sucked, at the same time flicking his tongue over it. 

Your back arched. Your arms encircled his back, fingers digging into the steel muscles as you held on. When his mouth moved to your other breast, one of your hands weaved into his hair. Your tugging evoked a growly rumble that reverberated against your sensitive nipple.

Steve trailed open mouth kisses up your chest and along your neck, grazing the dip over your pulse with his sharp teeth. You squirmed, a new surge of adrenaline quickening your blood flow as you remembered his promise about the bite. 

When he took your mouth, it was with less vehemence than the first kiss. He coaxed your lips open and teased your tongue with his own. The fingers splayed over your pussy kept steadily moving, smearing your slick all over. 

“What a sweet mouth you have,” he murmured, nipping your bottom lip. “And we already know what can be done with it.” 

His blue eyes sparked as your breath hitched, when he spread your folds and dipped his fingers deeper. The fear of pain from the claws had you reacting first, though there was nothing to hurt you. He retracted them. 

“You’re fucking dripping, bunny.” Steve groaned in satisfaction. “So much that I bet it trickled to your dirty rosebud, too.” 

He didn’t wait for your confirmation, just slid a single digit lower, where he found exactly what he predicted. You strained against him; one of your hands shot down between your bodies to clutch at his wrist. But Steve didn’t budge, pressing his finger against your tight rim, which was slick with your juices. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “Why are you fighting so hard, bunny? Afraid it’s going to hurt? Or that you will cum from having your ass played with, like a weak, needy bitch?” 

He circled and pressed, circled and pressed, driving you mad with sensations you couldn’t untangle. 

“I promise you, my lovely bunny,” though he removed his finger from between your asscheeks, there was nothing reassuring in the dark promise he vowed against your lips- “You will cum from anything I do to your sweet body. Because you are my little bitch.” 

“And it’s time that I claim what’s mine!” His snarl combined with your cry as Steve suddenly sat back and flipped you onto your stomach. 

He yanked your hips up, making you kneel on the mattress. One of his hands pressed against the back of your head, pressing it into the sheets. You felt pinpricks of claws grazing your skull. 

Steve settled behind you, coarse hair on his thighs tickling your delicate skin. His cock spread your swollen folds and he rocked his hips, rubbing the whole length of him against you, soaking himself in your slick. He was already wet with your saliva, but considering his size you didn’t mind him adding more lubrication. 

“Ungh!” You keened when he pressed into your hole. “Too big! Steve, it’s too-”

Your toes curled, feet kicking helplessly against the mattress, as Steve ignored your pleas and inched forward. 

At least he was taking it slow. But maybe slow was more tortuous than if he broke you on one, single thrust. 

His hand on your head pressed harder when your body jerked in an instinctive attempt to scramble away. The other hand landed on your ass with a hard slap. 

It made you clench around him, causing a new kind of ripple of pleasurable pain. 

He was stretching you so much, so close to the edge of ripping pain. But for the most part it was igniting a delirious ecstasy, confusing you and burning away any protests. Your pussy wasn’t used to sensations like that, yet she welcomed it with creamy joy.

“There you go, bunny.” Steve encouraged you, delighted in the way you moaned obscenely when he was halfway in and the head of his cock nudged that special spot. 

To reward you, he withdrew and slid back in, once again teasing that point. And again. And again. Until your thighs were shaking and your wetness was dripping onto the sheets. 

“Almost there, huh?” He chuckled, feeling your walls fluttering. “Well then-”

He withdrew in the same steady pace, only to ram the whole length of him in one stroke on the next thrust.

You screamed, but even as the pain short-circuited your consciousness for a split of a second, your pussy spasmed. 

Steve stayed buried to the hilt, relishing in your orgasm milking his cock. He didn’t wait for the aftershocks to subside, before starting a brutal rhythm. He fucked you like the animalistic monster that he was - with unparalleled hunger, incessant need, and no regard for your discomfort. 

“Good girl, bunny.” He draped his weight over you, hot breath fanning your cheek. “Such a good bitch for your mate.” 

He licked a wet line along your jaw, then down to the crook of your neck. Your mewling protest was ignored as Steve scraped his teeth over the spot he was going to mark. 

“Do you feel it swelling?” He teased. “Do you feel it spreading you wider each time I drive into your tiny pussy? My knot ’s about to pop, bunny. And when it does, I’m going to fill you so much. It’s going to lock your cunt in place, so that you have no other choice, but to take every fucking load.”

“Until it feels like your belly is too heavy. Like you’re about to burst at the seams.” His thrust became harsher, jerky and - just like he said - each stretching you with the growing knot. “Like your cunt aches from taking too much.” 

“And you will take it all, bunny. You know why?” Steve’s teeth dipped into your skin, not yet breaking, but threatening. “Yeah, you do. You know why. Say it!”

He slapped your ass when you didn’t reply, only moaned helplessly..

“Say it!” He spanked you again.

“Because I’m your little bitch!” You cried out, face half buried into the sheets and tears streaking down.

Beast’s teeth sunk into your skin, breaking it and drawing a flow of blood. His jaw locked in, just like his cock did in your pussy. Inflated knot, spreading you wider than ever before, shifted your channel so that the crown of Steve’s cock rested right against your cervix. And he bathed it in his seed. 

White haze filled your brain as the pinnacle of pleasure and zap of pure pain switched off your consciousness. 

When you groggily reconnected with bits of reality, your body was curled on its side. Steve’s body was aligned with yours; his cock still nestled deep inside of you. His arms were holding you tight, providing enough warmth for you to realize the tremors rocking you weren’t from cold, but the aftershocks from an orgasm.

Though you weren’t sure if it was still the one his knot ignited, or if the werewolf coaxed another climax out of you while you were unconscious. 

You wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Steve-” you croaked out.

“I’ve got you, bunny.” He tenderly kissed your shoulder. “I’ve got you and I always will. Your ever after, mate.” 

[astrotruther]

Astro placements that remind me of the 'archetypes' in Robert Greene's Art of Seduction

🍉[Consider donating to 🇵🇸 listed at the end of the post. جزاک اللہ]🍉

The gist of the book is that the author claims there are 9 types of people who attract our fancy, and if you look back upon your past relationships in which you had the hardest time getting over people, you'll find at least one of these archetypes had you in a chokehold. I've noticed certain placements embody these archetypes quite well. So let's get into it!

🧜‍♀️The Siren

Intense, all-consuming, irresistible. This is the kind of person who pulls you in just by existing. Their energy is sensual, they play with desire, and there's no hiding the fire behind their gaze.

Venus in Scorpio or Mars in Scorpio: These folks ooze mystery and magnetism. Venus or Mars here practically commands intense eye contact, a stare that feels like it's looking straight into your soul (and maybe reading all your secrets 👀).

Pluto in the 1st House: They have that come hither aura without even trying. Their presence is just heavy, dark, and intriguing.

Lilith aspects to Venus or Mars: Lilith knows how to channel that raw, primal energy that people can’t look away from.

🕶️The Rake

A flirt and unapologetically so. The Rake is playful, passionate, and knows how to make someone feel like they're the only person in the room. They thrive on thrilling their “prey.”

Mars in Aries: Direct, passionate, no games. Mars in Aries dives right in and doesn’t hold back, which makes people feel desired AF.

Venus in Gemini: Flirty, playful, always has the right words at the right time. They’ve got charm in every text, every look, every smirk.

Eros in the 3rd House: Eros here gets off on mental stimulation, knowing that once they can engage your mind, they can get you anywhere else too.😏

💐The Ideal Lover

Romantic, tender, understanding. They know just what you want and give it to you. There’s an aura of "I was made for you" about them that feels very movie-like.

Venus in Libra: Literally the ultimate lover. They’re charming, attentive, and all about creating harmony in love.

Neptune in the 7th House: They radiate dreamy, fairy-tale love vibes. It's a magnetic quality, and people project all kinds of fantasies onto them.

Psyche in the 1st House or conjunct Venus: Psyche brings an intuitive understanding of what people need emotionally, making them feel deeply seen.

🎭The Dandy

Unpredictable, a little bit of both masculine and feminine energy, and oh-so-daring. The Dandy doesn’t fit into any one box and totally thrives on that.

Uranus in the 1st House: Think uniqueness and uncontainable vibes. They attract attention without even trying and aren’t afraid to stand out.

Venus in Aquarius: Experimental in love, unconventional, and so full of quirks. They might dress edgy, embrace their quirks, and draw people in through pure originality.

Mars in Libra: Balances both masculine and feminine energy perfectly. Their way of pursuing people is soft yet firm, and they’re never boring.

🌱The Natural

Effortlessly cute, innocent, and unassuming. They have this way of making everyone around them feel at ease and seen. They’re playful without trying too hard, which gives a refreshing sense of authenticity.

Moon in Cancer or Venus in Cancer: They radiate warmth and gentleness. People feel safe around them and are easily drawn to their nurturing vibe.

Venus in the 5th House: This Venus placement is playful and creative, attracting people through sheer joyfulness and a love for fun.

Ceres in the 1st or 7th House: Ceres has that caring, supportive energy that makes people feel genuinely seen and loved.

🕸️The Coquette

They play hard to get, with a bit of push-pull energy. They leave people wanting more and keep others on their toes. Coquettes are experts in creating mystery.

Venus in Virgo: They might come off reserved at first, but their attention to detail and small gestures make people feel special.

Moon in Scorpio: They keep their emotions under wraps, drawing others in by only showing glimpses of their deeper self.

Juno in the 12th House: They’re commitment-focused but mysterious about it, leaving people to wonder if they’ll ever fully understand them.

💃The Charmer

Smooth, sociable, a lover of people. Charmers win over others with their adaptability and attentiveness, making everyone feel like they’re the most fascinating person in the room.

Sun in Libra: Naturally sociable and harmonious, they know just how to appeal to people’s desires and make everyone feel at ease.

Mercury in the 7th House: Skilled at reading people and adapting to them. They know how to say the right thing at the right time.

Aphrodite in the 1st or 10th House: Aphrodite brings allure and grace to their public presence. When they walk into a room, people notice; they just want to look, like they’re drawn to a work of art.

🌟The Charismatic and The Star

Radiates confidence and star quality. They draw people in with the sheer force of their presence and charisma. This type doesn't even need to try—they just shine.

Sun in Leo: Confident, warm, and charismatic. Leo Suns love to be adored and know just how to work a crowd.

Jupiter in the 1st House: Jupiter expands their presence, making them seem larger-than-life and totally magnetic.

Pallas in the 5th House: With Pallas here, they’re strategic about how they present themselves, drawing people in with skillful, playful interactions.

✰ That's it folks! I hope you all can find your placements somewhere in there and feel empowered and confident in your charisma.

Ahmed: https://gofund.me/102d1cb3 (vetted by @90-ghost)

Heba: https://gofund.me/e6a27592

Howayda: https://gofund.me/4d233342

Aya: https://www.gofundme.com/f/fm8uf-khan-younes

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[dotster001]

Waking Him up with a Kiss

Summary: Malleus/Silver/Jamil x Gn!Reader. You wake your lover up with a kiss.

Requested by an anon. Fuck you, Tumblr.

CW: Jamil is kinda sus but I wouldn't be doing him justice if he wasn't.

Also! Always get consent from your partner before kissing them in their sleep! That's a cool kid thing to do!

He'd been hinting at this for a while now. All his life, Lilia had regaled him with fairy tales where the sleeping prince or princess was woken with true love's kiss. Malleus had always been a hopeless romantic, and, damn, did he want that!

He'd left the books out when he slept over. He made sure that if he knew you would come looking for him, he'd nap on his back. He sighs dreamily (and loudly) whenever he rereads those fairytales next to you. He waxes on and on about how romantic being awoken with a kiss is. He knows he's dense. But he thinks you're worse.

Lilia giggles and says to be patient, Silver says to just tell you what he wants, and Sebek says to just banish you for the treason of making him sad. He decides that Lilia has never steered him wrong before, so he decides to be patient.

And one day it happens. He's dreaming of you, walking through a meadow, hand in hand. You turn to him, your radiant smile glowing brighter than the sun of his dreams. You press your lips to his, gentle as a cloud, and it feels so real that he doesn't want to wake up.

But he does, and he moans a little as he regrets losing the dream world. But the feeling of your lips doesn't fade. Light as a cloud, gentle as a dove, a feeling that makes him feel so full inside he thinks he'll burst.

His eyes flutter open, and there you are, on your knees in the grass, smiling softly as you push one of his dark bangs away from his eyes. He smiles sleepily, putting together that his dream came true.

“Now that you've given me a taste, I hope you know that I am insatiable,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep. You giggled, as though you thought he was joking.

Oh, you sweet little human.

He is not joking.

He has told you this on many occasions. If you are hanging out, and he falls asleep, do whatever you need to to wake him up. He originally tried to be chill about it, but eventually he let on just how much it distressed him when he missed time with you. He didn't want to miss out on any time with you. Yes, it was partially for you. But if he was honest, it was mostly for him. It hurt his chest to think about losing time with someone he loved. Being around the fae taught him every moment mattered.

Usually, you try everything. You shake him, you steal his pillow, you bang a pot, you set three alarms to go off at the same time. But today, you tried something different.

Silver blinked his eyes open, only to be met by your uncertain ones staring back at him, your face hovering a few inches above his.

He gently lifted a hand to his lips, the ghost of your kiss lingering. He may not have been fully awake for it, but he knows it happened.

His mind was immediately transported to a moment in his youth. He was sitting by his father, sniffling sadly because he fell asleep during Lilia's birthday party. 

“Ah, my sweet son,” Lilia said with a warm smile, gently nuzzling his cheek against Silver's. “I know it's not your fault. Even doctors have told you you can't help it. I am not upset at all.”

“But it's your birthday,” Silver sniffled. “I feel like I must be cursed.”

Lilia's eyes widened in understanding.

“That must be it!” He said excitedly. He ran to the nearby bookshelf and pulled off a book, before nodding sagely.

“Yes, that must be it, look,” he flipped to a page in the story, pointing to a picture of a sleeping princess being kissed awake by a knight in shining armor. “I know this curse! When you find true love, perhaps their kiss will save you!”

Silver excitedly nodded at the picture, his eyes wide.

Lilia snapped the book shut, authoritatively. “But until then, I don't want you to be sad when you fall asleep. Your hero will save you one day. And they might be sad that they took a long time to save you. So if you are less hard on yourself, it might help them feel better. Promise?”

Silver nodded happily.

Lilia is a menace, filling his son's heads with fairytales. /Affectionate

In the present, Silver smiled softly.

“Did you kiss me awake?”

“Sorry, I know I should have asked, but I figured when you said wake me up however I can-”

“That's correct. I could have said it plainly, but this is definitely what I pictured when I said that. But in case you need me to verbally say it, yes, please continue to wake me up like this. I think I will wake up every single time.”

You smiled at him, still hovering over him, making him long for your kiss again.

“You know, I wasn't awake for the last one. Would you please kiss me again?”

You giggled, then leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

“I feel like I need more ways to show my love for you,” you said thoughtfully. Jamil sat next to you on your bed in Ramshackle, reading over your report, and checking for mistakes.

“And what makes you say that?” He hummed in amusement.

“Seriously? You do everything for me! And I'm just kinda here!”

“I'm perfectly satisfied with that. In fact, I'd rather do all the hard stuff so that you have the energy to shower me in affection when I'm done,” he snickered to himself. If anything, a small selfish part of him liked the idea of you feeling like you had something to prove. It made you a very physically affectionate lover to “make up for it”. And while he was easily flustered, he very much liked the gentle caresses, warm embraces, and hungry kisses you gave him.

“Tell you what,” he hummed, handing you back the marked up report. It would take you hours to make the corrections. He loved you, but you were at a disadvantage when it came to college courses in the laws of magic. “I'm going to take a nap. When you finish, I'd really feel loved if you kissed me awake.”

He laid down, resting an arm over his eyes. 

“You could just stay the night if you're that tired,” you said in that tone of voice that only came when you were pouting.

“Can't. Kalim has a test tomorrow, and I need to make sure he wakes up for it.”

You grumbled something, but he was already out cold.

He felt…warm. He softly sighed, as he felt your kiss deepen. Still not opening his eyes, he wrapped an arm around your neck, and continued sleepily kissing you. Yeah. This is the life he wanted. To be rewarded for his hard work with your affection.

He finally opened his eyes with a scowl when you pulled away.

“I didn't say to stop. This is about expressing your love, right?” He snickered.

You pouted. “I miss when every single thing would fluster you.”

He scowled and stood up, stretching away the sleepiness as he prepared for his trek back to his dorm.

“I don't.”

You smiled sweetly, then reached out for his hair.

“Luckily,  I can still make you all blushy when I play with your hair.”

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir @pikeru565

“Good night love,” he scowled as he stormed out of the room.

....

[luveline]

If you’re doing requests could you do KBD during Halloween?

uncle Eddie makes sure Steve has the perfect costume. mom!reader

Steve smiles at himself in the mirror. Wren, in his arms, smiles back. 

“We look handsome,” he says, lifting her so her face is level with his own. “I look handsome. You look beautiful.” 

“Hi,” she says. 

Steve turns down to her. “Hi, baby.” 

Avery climbs onto a chair and waves at the mirror. Her fairy princess dress is shiny blue. “Hello.” 

Beth climbs onto the chair after her, wrapping her arms around Avery’s shoulders. “Hi!” she says, force of her greeting sending her pirates hat careening to the floor. 

“Are you ready?” you call from upstairs. “Everyone still has their shoes on?” 

“Dove doesn’t,” Avery says. 

“Tattle!” Dove cries, a picture of fury in her kitty cat onesie, her glued-on whiskers twitching fiercely.

“Well, you don’t.” 

“My toes are warm,” Dove whines, thrusting herself at Steve’s legs. “Daddy, she’s telling on me.” 

“I know, and now you’re telling on her. You’re my little band of tattle-tales, I don’t love it.” Steve smooths along Wren’s face with his finger and takes in a breath big enough to fill his lungs. “Can you let Beth put your shoes back on?” 

“No.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

You fit Dove into her shoes and get the kids to the car. Four car seats is tough work but nothing you can’t handle, and you’re still in chipper spirits when you arrive at the Munson house. It’s decked out in cobwebs and great big spiders made of tinsel and bendy framing, carved pumpkins leading up the steps with fleshy teeth and candles unburned in their maws. Wren gives a comical gasp when she sees it all, a tad scared but quickly soothed when you pretend to be scared too. 

Beth races up the steps first to knock. 

The door opens a slither. 

“Who goes there?” a dark voice asks. 

“Uncle Eddie, it’s me!” Beth says quickly. Her excitement again sends her hat to the stone patio beneath her cons, but she doesn’t notice it, vying to squeeze through the door and see her favourite uncle. 

“I don’t know any Me’s. You’ll have to come back another day, I’m waiting for my very favourite troupe of little girls.” 

“It’s BETH!” Beth shrieks, “Come on!”

“Bethany?” Eddie pushes the door open, unsurprised when Beth throws herself full force into his legs. “Why, you look dastardly. How very scary of you! You have a parrot!” 

The fake parrot glued to Beth’s shoulder waggles. 

“His name is Sherbet.” 

“Wow.” Eddie gives her a hug, his eyes blowing wide over her shoulder. “Oh, wow! Ave, you’re a princess with wings! And Dove, meow.” He grins at Steve. “And your dad is what, Frankenstein’s monster? A zombie?”

“Dad doesn’t have a costume,” Beth says happily. 

“Are you sure?” 

Steve encourages Dove over the threshold, four wrapped plates of sandwiches and finger foods balanced in the other hand. “That’s not funny. What are you supposed to be, anyways?” 

“I’m a vampire, duh.” Eddie slips a pair of fake fangs into his teeth. “I vant to suck your blood!” 

“Ew, Uncle Eddie,” you say. 

“Don’t think you’ve escaped me, second favourite Harrington,” Eddie says, frowning as you slip around him. “You owe me a hug.” 

“Creep,” Steve says. 

“With pride.” Eddie takes the plates from his arms and somehow, the Harrington troupe makes it safely indoors, no further costume parts fallen nor lost. 

There are more people here than Steve expected, Eddie’s friends, their kids, even Eddie’s elusive boyfriend sits out in the open. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Dove asks him with a grin. 

He turns his head to show a painted bite mark on his neck. “Victim.” 

“He’s a dead guy,” Eddie tells her, helping her where she’s struggling to sit in one of the barstools. “Alright, babe, dad said last year we partied too hard, so here are the ground rules. No pixie sticks, no soda, and no climbing on the kitchen counters. If you follow these rules, I am being allowed to give you a Hershey bar the size of your dad’s massive head. Deal?” 

“How big?” Dove questions suspiciously. 

Eddie goes to the cabinet. Inside, there’s more candy bars than one person should ever have purchased in one go. He pulls out a huge one and holds it nexts to Steve’s head, laughing when Steve bats it away. “Huge.” 

“Dad, dad, can I go play with Milly and Joe?” Avery asks. 

Steve was hoping she would. “Sure, baby. Good manners, okay?” 

Avery whizzes off to find Gareth’s kids. Beth stays by Steve’s side and he forces himself to believe that it’s him she wants to be with, not Eddie. “You don’t wanna go play?” Steve asks her. 

“Not yet.” 

You appear again where you’d been missing with Robin in tow. Steve grins at the sight of her, though he’d spoken to her on the phone last night, and seen her the day before at home. “Buckley!” 

She’s wearing a black dress with a belt and her hair is teased into a short cloud. “You aren’t wearing your costume?” 

Steve moves Beth around unthinkingly. “Yeah, it still smelled like vomit. Wren had too much yoghurt. Rob, you really look like Madonna. Your makeup is–”

“It’s trippy, right?” Eddie asks. 

“Mora did it. It’s like, face sculpting.” 

“It’s weird.” 

“I like it,” you say, Wren on your hip giving an agreeable gurgle. “I like your real face more, but this is cool.”

“And where’s your costume?” Eddie asks. 

You frown down at your nice dress. “You can’t tell?” 

Eddie falls for the trip in your voice and attempts to backtrack, only realising that you’re kidding when Steve laughs. 

“The baby got sick on both of us,” you say, turning Wren so everyone in the kitchen can see her face. “But that’s okay. She’s so cute, she’s forgiven. Aren’t you, gorgeous? You didn’t mean to eat all that yoghurt, daddy just kept feeding you.” 

Steve holds his hands up in surrender. “I feed her every day, I know how much yoghurt she can handle.” 

“Clearly not,” you croon, shooting him a loving smile. “You did save us from those awful costumes, though.” 

“Oh, worry not,” Eddie says, “I figured something like this would happen, and I’ve prepared.” 

Awesome, Steve thinks, groaning as Eddie takes his wrist into his hand and begins to pull on him. Knowing Eddie, Steve’s end up dressed as a demon with giant horns, or a fairy. 

The reality is much, much worse. 

“Hey, look at that! It still fits!” Robin laughs. 

Steve looks down at his little sailor’s uniform and sighs. “Barely,” he says. 

“Say the slogan!” you demand. 

If it were anyone else, Steve would refuse, but you’re sitting at the breakfast bar with Wren tucked under your chin, so he takes a deep breath and straightens his white hat. “Ahoy ladies,” he sighs. “Would you like to… uh, set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I’ll be your captain, I’m…” —his voice drags reluctantly— “I’m Steve Harrington.”

[jo-com]

Charles jealous and possessive please 🔥 Smut. Thank you so much ❤️

₊˚⊹♡ ➛ le mien

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Summary: Part 2 of Mine

Genre: DARK fic.

Word: 2.03k words

TW: baby trapping, p and c penetration, possessiveness, jealousy, branding, manipulation, obsessive behavior, bit angsty, corruption, brainwashing, wrap it before you tap it folks and overall messed up shit. This is not proofread and there are some grammatical error also google translated french. if uncomfortable minors do not interact!!

─────── ─ ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ ─ ───────

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Y/username Happy 4th Anniversary Mon amour!

Charles_Leclerc i love you so much darling!

Y/username i love you more💋💋💋

Carlossainz55 Stay strong guys!

User1 Cutest Couple ever🙈

User2 JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY

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Y/bff The cutest fr

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…

Despite all the love you share on social media, nothing can compare to the real truth that exists beyond the internet.

People don't see the things he does behind closed doors—all those emotional abuse, obsessive behavior, and possessiveness. Never, even once, do people know that it's happening between the two of you.

All they know is the sweet words you guys share in each other's posts and the way you act whenever there are people around you two—all sweet and loving like one of those fairy tale romances you read. But behind all that, they don't see how hurt you are mentally. It was happening constantly, and you were so used to it that you became numb and just succumbed to the growing pain you feel inside. 

To the point where you act like his puppet—doing everything that pleases him, and acting the way he wants you to.

You never once complained, thinking that it was just how love goes.

You were a fool. A fool blinded by "love".

...

"Hey y/n/n, are you alright? Me and mom have been worried about you; you haven't been going to our usual family gathering." your sister asked over the phone.

It was true; you haven't been going to those gatherings for a while now, only because Charles said, "It's not safe to go outside," and of course, like the sweet girlfriend doll you were, you followed his words.

You stared blankly, your mind wandering off. You tend to get lost in thoughts nowadays, and you're not sure why. Maybe it's from the stress you've been feeling, but you just brushed it off like it was nothing.

"Yeah, I am good. I've just been busy lately, you know? Keeping the house safe and everything," you chuckled dryly. 

"You know I can tell when there's something wrong, right? So just tell me."

Before you could answer, Charles walked into the room. With one hand holding Leo, he was snuggled up nice and cozy in his embrace. His eyes roamed around the room searching for you; his gaze then fell prey on your meek figure—you sat there holding the phone in one hand while the other rested on the softly fabricated couch. You looked angelic, as if untouched by any form of evil. 

Then again, Charles wasn't just any form of evil; he was the reincarnation of the devil himself, and he wanted nothing more than to corrupt your innocence.

With a soft smile, Charles walked to where you sat, sitting beside you and settling leo down on his lap. 

"Who are you talking to poupée (doll)?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, just my sister; we were just catching up on things." You muttered, your voice quivering slightly; you don't know whether you were scared or just have some sore throat that made your voice crack.

Charles looked at you in disbelief, his eyes narrowing with skepticism, and simply turned his attention back at Leo. "Hang up the phone," he said bluntly, not even sparing you a glance.

"But baby, we were just talking." You tried to argue with him, telling him that you just wanted to chat with your sister, but as usual, he blocked your words of plea and glared at you—he always does that, looking at you as if he were judging your whole soul.

His eyes have always been your weakness; they both scare and pleasure you at the same time. Charles knows that, and he uses it to his advantage every time.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy; you could feel it weighing down and crushing your spirit.

Sighing defeatedly, you had no choice but to end the call with your sister and not further complicate things.

"Hey, uhm, sis, I'll just call you back, okay? Something just came up."

You didn't even let your sister respond before hanging up the call. Charles hummed contentedly and patted the seat next to him. At that very moment, you felt angry with him, but you knew that you couldn't do anything about it, so you sucked it up and sat beside him. Leaning close to his embrace.

"Bonne fille, ma chérie (good girl, my darling)," he mumbbled softly, kissing the roof of your head.

...

Charles gripped your waist tightly, his jaws clenched, and hands balled up to a fist. He half-ass smiled at the man, trying to compose himself—fighting back the urges to beat the shit out of the guy in front of them.

He saw the way he looked at you; his eyes scanned each and every part of your body like you were some kind of art on display. fucking disgusting. 

You, on the other hand, held on to him, almost ripping the fabric of his clothes with your tight grip. You paid no mind to the guy he was talking to and just stared at the bustling room; in there, people were having fun, dancing, and drinking with others. 

At that moment, you didn't care about Charles or who he was conversing with; all you wanted was to spring free from his embrace and just party wild with others. Was that too much to ask for?

For him, it was. If it was legal, he wanted nothing more than to lock you up and live the rest of your lives together. So, having that idea was just wishful thinking—it never hurts to dream, though. 

"I'll see you around, yeah?" The man asked, earning a subtle nod from Charles as an acknowledgment.

"Quel putain de cinglé (what a fucking weirdo)," he mumbled under his breath, his accent making the words sound more spiteful and venomous.

You didn't hear him say that. You were too busy to admire people's enjoyment and bask in the laughter and smiles that surround you. How could people be as care free like that? The ache on your heart only grows fonder. Oh, how you wish you could do the same. 

With your head up in the clouds, you didn't seem to notice the angry monegasque that stood beside you, cursing you in any language he knew. The next thing you felt was a harsh sting that rested on your jaw.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I've been trying to talk to you! What are you even looking at? Are you cheating on me, Chienne (Bitch)?" he yelled, not even caring anymore if people heard him.

Your breath hitches, eyes widening, and heart racing fast.

His hands were now on your jaws, gripping them with sheer strength. You didn't know what was going on or why this was  happening to you. You were always so nice and never did anything to cause harm, so why?

All those questions in your mind made your vision go blurry and your head spin, causing you to black out on the spot.

...

You woke up the next day with a pounding headache and only bits of memories of what happened that night. "Ouch," you winced, massaging your head to try and ease the pain. 

As if on cue, Charles walked in with medicine on his left hand and a glass of water on the right. 

His face lit up, seeing that you were now awake. He softly smiled and walked towards your shared bed. The matress dipped down as he sat next to your sitting body.

"Are you feeling better, mon amour?" he asked. His hand was about to stroke your cheeks, but out of reflex, your body flinched at his sudden movement. 

That made Charles frown. You know how bipolar his mood has been; that's why you've been extra careful not to ruin it. You were expecting him to be mad, but what happened was the opposite. He only sighed deeply and lowered his head. 

"I am sorry, Mon cœur." Your being shocked was an understatement; in fact, you were flabergasted at his words. You never knew that hearing him say that would make you want to tear up.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I know you didn't mean for it to happen," you assured him, and rubbed circles around his arm. 

And just like that, Charles once again got you wrapped around his finger. You were way too easy to convince and so naive that you'd fall for anything he said.

He slowly lift up his head and gave you a light smile.

You then melted at his expression, it was silly of you to think that a face like that could ever harm you. he would never do that.

...

"Fuck, Charlie, put it in already, please," you begged, your eyes watering from the overstimulation. His hands gripped your waist tighter—muscles flexing in the process. 

"You're so needy for my cock, mon amour," he breathes out. 

The two of you have been at it for half an hour now, both out of breath and with marks made by one another. Your bodies were sticky with each other's bodily fluids, but you guys paid no mind to that. Only focusing on reaching the pleasure you both wanted so badly.

Without wasting a second, Charles huridly inserted his dick into your aching core. Your eyes widened from the sudden sensation between your thighs; you could feel how he was stretching you, and the need for him to satisfy you only increased. 

"Move, please" you said, your voice quivering and hands scratching his back to let out some of the pain.

Your legs instantly rested on his lower hip, wanting to keep him as close to you as possible. You don't know why you're acting like that, but you suddenly got the urge to mount him and fuck him till dawn. 

"Shit baby, you're always so tight," he chuckled, his left hand settled in the headboard while his right hand played with the nub of your tits.

His hips clashed with yours, making the two of you a moaning mess. Charles then dove down to your breast and licked it, biting and teasing them. He made sure to leave plenty of marks. 

"Oh god, i..i am about to come," you gasped, your toes curling from the rush of adrenaline coursing through you. 

"Just come for me, baby," he said, continuously pounding into you, your flesh crashing at each other and making a loud, smacking sound.

His hand then snaked up to hold onto your ankles, lifting it up. Shifting his dick into a deeper position.

With the new found position, your vision started to go blur; now only seeing nothing but stars. Your mind then turns hazy, and hands gripping tightly on the duvet sheet that scattered on the bed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" was the only thing you said before collapsing on the matress, your body convulsing with pleasure as your juices slowly fall down your flush tighs.

"Damn, all that for me, ma chérie?" Charles laughed, licking his lower lip at how ravishing you look; fucked out and cockdumb for him.

He continued to rut his hips to your overstimulated cunt. "Fuck, Je veux mettre un bébé en toi (i want to put a baby inside you)" he mumbled, not minding your state and carried on fucking you into an oblivion.

"I'ma fill you with my cum, make you a mama and the fill you up again....fuck" he rambled, his hips never stoping, not until he reach his high.

And after a few more thrust, he finally came inside of you— his eyes rolling in the back of his head with satisfaction. He continued to rut into you; not wanting to spill his cum and then coating your walls with his white seed.

You were sure to get pregnant by that and after that, you two are going to be tied forever, just like he planned.

...

yeah that was pure filth, hope you guys like it though! My requests are always open.

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny, I recently found ur page and have been binge reading ur posts, you’re so good!! I have a big order. Peach cake, Red velvet cupcake and a pound cake with strawberries. With a side of with dark hot chocolate and a glass of water, George Russell🙈… if it’s too many details do it however you want bcuz your writing is amazing <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i love getting orders! i accept more than just formula one so i'm always happy to try different fandoms. so please! check it out! and thank you lovely anon, i'm happy you love my work! and thank you for submitting a george russell order because i've gotten people asking for him! so thank you! i hope you love it <3

peach cake: ("if you spill a drop, we start all over.") + red velvet cupcake: ("if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one.") + pound cake with strawberries: ("you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again.") + dark hot chocolate: (sub!reader) + glass of water: (aftercare) served by george russell (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sub!reader & dom!george, rules & punishments, spanking, sparkling water, jealousy, aftercare, doggy style,

"you're so lucky, honestly he sounds like a prince charming!" you once heard from someone when you were talking about your boyfriend, "george just seems like such a sweet guy. like he double checked to make sure that roses wouldn't make your cat sick? most guys can barely get flowers!"

you felt your ears burn at her words and nervously played with the bracelet around your left wrist. there was on charm on it, letter 'g' for your beloved. your boyfriend, your biggest fan.

your dom, george russell.

but even men who looked like princes in fairy tales could be a little jealous. george often appeared himself to be a very sweet guy, who'd never actually hurt someone. he was a force on the track and would do what he needed to win, but he'd never put his hands on another driver. he'd never get in their face or try to get violent.

but as he watched lando norris try his hardest to pick you up, george really wanted to knock some sense into the driver. just because a woman didn't wear a neon sign that said 'taken', it didn't mean they were free game to flirt with.

and you, the future mrs. russell, should know better. even though the weight of the bracelet you wore wasn't too much. he hoped that it was enough of a reminder to behave. listen to the rules that george had laid out for you.

when lando touched your bare arm, and you stepped back a little. george knew that he had to step in. he was at your side rather quickly, smiling at lando. he wrapped an arm around you.

"see you've met my girlfriend, mate." he smiled, putting all of his charm into it, "i was looking for her." his hand snaked to your ass and you gave it a firm squeeze. you weren't off the hook.

"oh this is-" lando looked at you, "i didn't recognize her, mate. i'm so sorry!"

george was a little unconvinced when he replied,"yeah, a haircut can do that." even though you hadn't styled your hair differently in years. george didn't get too aggressive with the fellow driver because now that he was close to him, he could see that the drink in his hand was large and his stance implied it wasn't the first one of the evening.

but, george made sure that you didn't have a drop of alcohol. so while lando was drunk, you were well aware of the rules that your dom had set for you. the driver leaned to your ear and said, ""you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

and you swallowed, knowing you'd get a lecture when your boyfriend steered you away from the drunken racer. you felt the tip of your ears grow hot and you played with the bracelet. despite how nervous you felt, george was all smiles as he told lando to have a good night.

as you walked away, your lover's voice was hot in your ear, "no flirting. remember? you are mine, and i don't need other men getting their hands on you." he held you by the back. he kissed your cheek softly, "when rules are broken, there are punishments." this was part of your dynamic.

you knew there would be a punishment when you got home and you were right. a bottle of sparkling water from the grocery store was opened. and with you on your knees, opened your mouth. this was a punishment of endurance and being unbreakable. george poured a mouthful in your mouth then closed your jaw. he said, "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

you nodded before you got up onto your feet. your legs shaky as he put the bottle down on the nightstand. you held the water in your mouth as you got over his lap. you could feel his hard cock against your stomach. the goal of the punishment was to hold the water in your mouth even if the carbonation made your eyes run. and george spanked you for every infraction you did.

"you're a whore." he said as he rubbed your bare ass. he stripped you down to nothing as soon as you got home. you were to be laid out naked for him. he on the other hand was still in the shirt and slacks fro the party. it only added to the dynamic, you were exposed for him while he got to stay dressed. he slapped your ass, "you're a whore, you let norris get his hands all over you. you know if you let him suck on your pretty breasts or fuck your poor pussy, you'd be thrown away by the next day." he landed another spank across your ass.

you whimpered, trying to hold the water in your mouth. the spanks made it hard to not choke on it or have to drip out of your mouth. the bubbles of it made you feel discomfort in your face. but you had to be good.

"but not me. i'd never do that to you." he said softly, "you are my treasure. you know there's rules, that you have to be well behaved for me. or else we're going to have problems. you're my girlfriend, my love, my submissive." he landed a few more spanks across your ass, he watched your body shake with each of his slaps. but you didn't spill a drop.

the knowledge of that made george smile to himself. it wasn't hard to train you to be an amazing sub, you were always so eager to make him proud. you took your punishments with grace. he landed a few more smacks across your ass, "but you are my whore in the end. my responsibility to teach and fuck." he groped your bruised ass which made you whine.

you kicked out your legs as if you were trying to say that you weren't a whore. that you were a good girl, but it was only met with another hard smack across your cheeks. you arched your back and whined more.

"if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one." he said as a warning. he took you by the jaw to look at him. your craned your neck to get a good look at your prince charming. he smiled, "swallow. then hands and knees."

you swallowed and nodded happily. and like a good girl, you opened your mouth to show you swallowed it all. you earned a pat on the cheek, which made you melt a little. you got off his lap, leaving pussy slick across his black slacks.

george noticed it and chuckled lightly before he started to unbutton his shirt. you were a messy little slut, but george adored you. he was only rough because he knew it was best for you. you were a smart girl, you just needed reminders. once he was out of his clothes, he saw you with your hips raised. ready for him as always.

"my beautiful girl." he said as got himself behind you on his knees. he admired your beauty from behind. he could feel the heat of the bruises on your ass when he placed his hand across one of the cheeks. oh, you were perfect for him, "see, norris could never have you like this. no, no. he wouldn't know what do with himself. he'd probably finish before he started." he chuckled as he gave your ass a pat. he pushed his cock all the way into you, you were beyond soaked that it was so easy for him

he started to move his hips, he pushed you into the covers by your shoulders and had the perfect angle to fuck you. you looked so pretty as you took him. you really were a good girl, the farthest thing from a whore. but he knew it excited you when your prince charming, george russell, called you such sick names. it made you hot all over, just as when he fucked you with heavy thrusts.

"ah, george. sir." you arched your back as he hit the softest parts of you. you felt like a dream, you were a fairy tale princess. from your cute face to how you dressed. to how you were good with everyone but always perfect for george. you took his cock perfectly, made for him like you came from pages of a story. it was why he need to fuck you was always so strong.

"perfect little whore." he said, his voice tinged with praise.

you moved a little bit and felt your knees start to hurt from the feeling of it all. you felt a thump in your chest from his words. you held onto the pillow under your head. your ass stung from the feeling of the previous slaps.

"see what happens when you behave. you know i'll take care of you. always, but you have to remember our rules. they're to keep you safe. you are the most important thing to me. that's why i hate when you're a whore." he continued to thrust up against you.

you believed him. that was why you put so much trust into him.he never steered you wrong. you loved him so much. and he loved you, even when he called you names in the safety of your bedroom, you loved him more than anything.

his thrusts were focused and they made you squirm. it made it feel like he was nudging up into your stomach and it took the air out of you. your pussy was a fit for him.

you held onto the covers with your back arched. you panted heavily into them. everything was hot in your body, you panted heavily into the sheets. "please, sir."

"you know i love you, and this all happens because i love you so much. and i know how good you could be for me." he said hotly into your ear, keeping you pinned to the bed.

the blood rush made your toes curled and you came with your hands buried in the soft sheets of your shared bed. you gasped into the pillow and you back arched. it was all too much, you almost had tears in your eyes.

he finished after you did, then slowly came to a stop. he pushed his entire length into you and bottomed out in you. he shuddered and coughed out a moan. his grip on you was tight. and you came once more from the intensity of it all. the sparks in your brain came alive.

your back arched as you felt him slow down and stop. you both tried to catch your breath before george pulled out and wrapped himself up around you. he got the covers over you and kissed at your face with love.

"do you need water?" being a good dom meant aftercare. especially from such a production. he peppered your face with kisses and held you in his arms, "i think there's something in the fridge you could snack on."

you looked at him and cupped his face gently, you said with half-lidded eyed, "just some water. when i can think again maybe a shower, sir."

he kissed your lips and said, "perfect, good. my good girl." even with the bruises across your ass, you felt on cloud nine. there really was nothing like having a dom. especially the kind like george. your prince charming <3

[fuckmymunson]

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[avithenaftali]

October 28, 2022, 7:11 P.M.

For whatever reason I enjoy thinking about Diana Wynne Jones' writing as a whole and picking out unexpected or resonant trends. For example, some things that comes up often is:

She'll fabricate a world (right down to its cosmology), fill it with memorable characters, set one or two short novels in it... and then never touch it again. On to the next one. Rinse and repeat for her entire career.

The concept of multiple/parallel universes appear half a dozen times in different novels/sequences, but always in completely different ways. The multiple worlds of Chrestomanci function very, very differently from the multiple worlds of The Homeward Bounders, which themselves function so different from the Ayewards/Naywards of Deep Secret, or the walls between the worlds in Dark Lord of Derkholm. More importantly, all these approaches to multiverse explicitly contradict each other. There is no larger DWJ multiverse; there is no way to coherently combine any of them, much less all of them. I love her for this. Every book is its own project. Franchising be damned.

With one exception (which is the Dalemark quartet, oddly enough), none of these worlds are sealed-off secondary worlds. Our own Earth appears in all of them, though usually from the 'wrong' end of the telescope. Meaning, it's stuff like reading Charmed Life and assuming you're reading a magical secondary world fantasy for most of the book... up until the point when Janet is pulled into the story due to Gwendolyn's spell. The reader instantly understands that Janet is from our own world, from the 1970s when the book was written. She never makes it home, either. She never sees her parents again. She's a supporting character who becomes permanently stuck in the world of Chrestomanci, as a casualty of Gwendolyn's spells.

It is interesting, though, how there are almost no sealed-off secondary worlds in DWJ's oeuvre.

There are lots of neat things to say about how DWJ did this, and why she'd do it, and the implications in the storytelling. But tonight I'm thinking mostly about how it can be a moment, narratively, that makes you halt and have to recontextualize all these things you thought you knew (or were assuming) about the nature of the story.

In Ursula Le Guin's The Dispossessed, Urras is obviously the metaphorical capitalistic stand-in planet for our own Earth... up until a moment right near the end, where we realize our own Earth exists in this novel too and is an ecological wasteland due to unchecked climate change.

Urras may be the distorted-mirror, uber-capitalist version of our own world. But it's also a planet with a functional ecosystem. It's a planet where society is careful about maintaining that ecosystem. We're not going to be Urras, says Le Guin. We'll be lucky if we become Urras. To become Urras means we wised up in time to not go extinct.

And suddenly, little subtle moments in the worldbuilding around both Anarres and Urras—their shared attention to their own ecology—come into a different light. All because our own, devastated Earth turns out to be present in the novel too.

And in Howl's Moving Castle, Howl is a magician who fits into the fairy tale landscape of Ingary as naturally as anyone else—until the chapter when he has to go home to retrieve a lost spell, and you realize home is in another world, aka home is our world, aka Howl is fucking Welsh and found his way into Ingary by pure accident. And Ben Sullivan, Ingary's missing royal magician, is no native of Ingary either.

To Sophie, it just means that both magicians travelled to Ingary from the same enigmatic foreign land, which is as strange to her as any spell.

To us readers, it means "oh my god he's Welsh too? Just how much is Wales secretly connected to Ingary? Next thing you'll tell me Ben Sullivan's a rugby player as well—"

[kitasgloves]

Having thoughts about arranged marriage au! with FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY. He only married you to get associated with your family's wealth. Oh, but poor naive you, who always believed in fairy tales and love stories. You believed you could love a mysterious, cynical, and dark man like Fyodor.

How pathetically determined you were trying to win his affection. Fyodor thought you were some sort of idiot for not taking a hint that he wasn't interested in romance. You two didn't share a room even if you two were married. There were no tender sentiments or words from him. He told you he wasn't keen on physical affection, surprise gifts, planned dates, or celebrating anniversaries. He strictly told you to keep your distance and listen to everything he said. The fact that you were eager to obey him made him think of you as positively foolish.

However, you were persistent. You tried to cook him food and sneak him small gifts. You made attempts to sing him love songs and throw small parties. You were a true romantic who believed in the magic of love. You were eager to have your husband fall for you as you fell for him.

Unfortunately, Fyodor was at his breaking point. You were so damn annoying and stubborn that it was getting difficult to contain his frustration with you. He snaps at you during dinner when you've planned another extravagant surprise for him.

"Didn't I tell you to quit that? We are not lovers, [Name]. We are only spouses on paper. I do not care about your affection for me"

He couldn't forget that evening. The moment Fyodor spoke those words, the glimmer in your eyes died. He felt momentarily satisfied thinking that you have finally snapped out of it. The following days were a series of odd changes from you.

Mornings were...quiet, for once. You stopped babbling nonsense to him and only focused on cooking and cleaning up. You ceased the gifts and surprise parties. You even quit playing those annoying love songs on the radio that he despises so much. It seemed as though someone had taken the battery out of you.

At first, Fyodor was pleased but as the days progressed, he felt...uncomfortable. He wouldn't like to admit but he does notice a lot of things about you. Such as your habits, and how you seemed to forcefully change them despite your discomfort. With your sudden quietness, he could see how you were avoiding his gaze and biting your tongue when alone together. And lastly, the disappearance of your fondness for him.

He despised to think how he appreciated how you paid attention to his preferences. You always knew which tea he liked, what classical music was his favorite, and how you often looked out for his health considering he has anemia. Now, you grew distant and stopped bothering him for attention.

Has your foolish infatuation with him vanished? If so, why does his chest feel tight? Fyodor waited for you to revert to you how you used to be. Cheerful, loud, and affectionate. He expects you to surprise him with a gift. The house seemed so empty without your constant talking.

Have you given up on romance? Or was it all just a childish dream to you all along?

You don't understand why Fyodor has been staring at you lately. He's been hanging around the house so much that it's suspicious. You can feel him following you around in every room as if expecting something. You're done trying to woo him and you've come to accept the fact that your husband is a cruel man. So, you grant his wishes and stop pestering him. However, in return, he's begun to silently pester you.

When you wish to be alone, Fyodor's always trailing behind you. He was beginning to praise your cooking unlike before. He invites you to go to the library to read or listen to Tchaikovsky with him. Whenever you leave without his knowledge and then return home, Fyodor wants to know where you went.

The old you would've been over the moon from all the attention he was giving you, but you've grown to lose your positivity about this marriage.

"Fyodor?"

"Yes, [Name]?"

"I think we should have a divorce"

The sound of the teacup clattering against the saucer fills the air. You slid the divorce papers across the table towards your husband. Fyodor swallows and blinks, registers his spilled tea and the divorce papers you have produced. He collects his composure.

"Why?"

"I don't see the point of this marriage anymore"

Fyodor likes to convince himself that he's not affected. It should be a benefit or a good opportunity to find someone better to marry. Yes, he's indifferent to the sight of your glassy eyes and wobbling lip. He does not care about the misery you carry of being married to him. Oh, what an absolute liar he was.

"No"

"...What?"

"We are not getting a divorce, [Name]"

You watched with ache as Fyodor took the divorce papers and tore them into shreds in front of your face. Your blood felt hot. Was he purposely torturing you? He has to be. Fyodor is nothing but a selfish man. He revels in your misery of bearing his last name.

Truly, Fyodor was selfish. Why? He couldn't bear to see you go or remarry somebody else. He couldn't stand for you to find your perfect fairytale romance with someone else. Your fondness should only belong to him. Was he not your first romance? Was he not the first one to ever witness your tender eyes? Fyodor just couldn't fathom you gifting another your previous affections. Nobody seemed worthy enough but he.

"We will make this marriage work"

You looked at him from across the table with contempt. You fail to register the determined and passionate look in his eyes.

You will learn to adore me again, one way or another

I've been brainrotting about Fyodor who tries to win his spouse's love back realizing that they're falling out of love with him like pleaaaase he's so unhinged when he's in love

[fairytsuk1]

four seasons | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

prompt: meeting at a holiday resort, both with friends or family tagging along

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

words: 5.4k

warnings: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, spin the bottle, marijuana mentioned, alcohol, drunk sex, begging

It's everything you thought it'd be and more. The sun shines on you in a bright gleam that warms your skin. Your plans had finally made it out of the group chat! This was going to be the best vacation ever. Your sandals slap against the concrete as you trod to your friends with your luggage.

"Hey! Can you guys believe this? It's so beautiful!"

Ayami beams, her short hair bouncing as she nods eagerly, "I can already feel myself re-energizing! All this nature and ocean—oh, it's going to be wonderful!"

Ryoka's hand slips around her girlfriend's waist with a relaxed smile. "Hell yeah. We should go ahead and check-in."

"Already done! No need to thank me," Natsumi brags as she flings the dark oak door open, "had to do it since you guys were taking your sweet time getting out of the car!"

Your cheeks hurt from how much you're smiling. You must've done something heroic in your past life, maybe saving a war-torn city, to have this warm feeling fluttering in your chest. The resort is made better with your friend's banter and complimentary slippers that sink into plush carpet. 

An attendant explains things in a blur, yet your eyes are locked onto the glittering ripples of water that peek through a window. The pool is on the first floor, she says. And don't forget to ____, you ignore. Soon enough, all four of you are dashing to claim a spot on white resin lounge chairs. It feels like a dream when your manicured toes glisten under the hot summer air. It becomes more like a fairy tale when your wandering eyes land on something interesting.

He's hot. Scratch that; he's more than hot! Lecherous eyes start at sopping blonde hair pushed back by muscled biceps and veiny forearms. The way the water rolls down his back is absolutely sinful. Even his abs flex as he cockily smirks, pushing back against his red-headed friend during their game of roughhousing.

Not only is he easy on the eyes, but he looks like he fucks, which is the perfect maraschino cherry on top. You could bite into him, and it'd be sugary sweet as the sticky juice runs red down your jugular. Yeah, you could eat him alive and he'd love it. Confidence thrums through you, and you know your time is now. At the same time, he stands casually in the water, merely observing and completely unaware.

You slip in effortlessly and unnoticed, lurking like a shark behind him as you plan your words before making yourself known.

"Hey," you chirp, hands wading in the water.

You expect him to turn to you with a sly smile; maybe he'd grow close and lean on the pool edge as he asked for your name and whether you were single. Only he didn't do any of that. His eyes scan you like you're a drab beige wall, and then he has the nerve to shrug you off.

"Hey."

It's awkward. It's tense. It's very unexpected.

"What's your–"

"I don't need a drink right now," he dismisses with a casual wave.

It actually stuns you into silence. Your mouth drops open and then closes, and then opens again, "I-I'm not a worker! Do workers wear bikinis where you're from?"

The man sneers at your reaction and finally turns to face you. He's taller, broader, and you wish he wasn't so fine because he was turning out to be such a dick. You stand up straighter, squaring your shoulders to stare frustratedly into his eyes.

"No, but I don't bother paying attention to extras when I'm trying to relax," and lewd eyes dip down to your cleavage, "but maybe I can spare you some time."

"An extra!? Oh, fuck you!"

It comes out harshly, and your bottom lip droops as you stare at him: "I just came by to introduce myself, but never mind. I'm leaving."

"Then introduce yourself, or did I scare ya' off?"

You've never met a man so bold. A man with the audacity to call you an extra and still so obviously commit your curves to memory. Introductions come out in a stutter from you with warm cheeks, "and what's your name, so I can report your behavior with the front desk."

"It's Bakugou," he grunts. "Be my guest."

"I will," you challenge.

"How about I report you for harassment, hah?"

"You insulted me first!"

Bakugou shrugs with a smirk. It irritates you beyond belief to see his smug little face. The sun burns too bright and hot on you two, firing you up and encouraging you to storm out of the pool. Bakugou takes the opportunity to leer at your ass as you crawl out the side, wet swim skirt sticking to your curves and making him tug his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Damn," he grunts as you prissily walk off.

Perhaps he judged you too harshly. But then he thought about it, and you just seemed like a spoiled brat. A pretty one but a brat nonetheless. He didn't take things like that. He reassures himself under his breath, but his thoughts know what he's really thinking about: sliding those wet bikini bottoms off you and spreading your legs. It would be all for him, too. You did approach him first.

You, however, collect your things in a huff. Your move to the other end of the pool may have been petty, but you don't care. Things had to be thought through. Was it worth actually pursuing this sexy asshole guy? As you type a pro-con list into your phone, Ryoka pats your shoulder, "Are you planning on missing the game for your phone?"

The exercise will do you some good. After squeezing your friend's hand and promising to return after you change, you opt to release your frustrations on a good game of volleyball.

After a bit, it's even hotter and you've only gotten sexier. It's important to note as Bakugou stares at you from the sidelines. Sure, you were prissy, but your body was killer, and the snarl escaping you every time you spiked the ball sent wrecking balls of fantasy into his mind. You were a spitfire, and Bakugou tries to swallow the flush when you look at him in an intense adrenaline haze.

A block. A quick run to the side for a spike. Light cheering. This was the sweet escape you needed, giving you just enough space to let out your blood thirst. If you had fangs, then you'd be chomping at everyone's face! You were in the groove. Your eyes pass over him easily. And then you meet again.

Parted, pink lips with beads of sweat on your upper lip. Your hair falls messily, framing your face with sticky strands as your dark eyes pierce Bakugou's. For a minute, neither of you seems to exist in this reality. You both stay in this limbo for a second longer than you should before your head snaps forward to bump an incoming ball. Bakugou’s frozen to the core with genuine butterflies in his stomach. He doesn't even think this has ever happened to him before, or even that it ever would.

A whistle is blown, and you’re cheering with your team. It always felt good to win. It was even better when you knew you had eyes on you.

"Good game, good game! Yeah, you did amazing, Ayami…" You towel off as you relish in the glow of your success. It wasn't all due to you, but you were being a bit of a try-hard.

You don't even notice how Bakugou makes his way through the crowd. How his lips curl into a frown as someone bumps into him, and how he taps your shoulder with a gruff, "Hey."

Your head turns with hair that cracks like a whip. Obviously, you recognize him immediately. You're not happy.

"Hey," you mutter, toweling off and ready to escape. "Nice seeing you."

"Wait a minute," Bakugou's hand curls around your wrist, and you're so irritated to feel heat rush through you at seeing the sinewy muscle move. "Lemme talk to you."

"I gotta get in the shower. So, no."

"You're being stubborn. I'm sorry for earlier," he huffs with eyes that lack the confidence to look straight at you. "Let me buy you a soda or somethin'."

"What makes you think I want a soda from you, an extra?"

He almost wants to shout in your face, but he knows there's no way around that. Bakugou mumbles about not meaning it while kicking at the ground, and your posture stays stiff. It happens so quickly you almost miss it, but you catch a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

"What's so funny?! You're a real jerk, laughing and everything when you insulted me and–"

"You're all defensive at being called an extra. It's cute." 

"I have a name," you nearly stomp your foot in exasperation despite the flush crawling up your skin.

"I forgot. You stuttered it out last time," he provokes calmly with a tilt of his head. Really, he just wants to hear that pretty name on your lips again.

You try to tell yourself that there's no time to think about the compliment that flies and waves in the air like a kite. You introduce yourself calmly, emphasizing the syllables and ensuring he gets it.

Bakugou repeats your name so slowly. So pointedly, velvety tongue and eyes narrowing. You could imagine him whispering it into your neck as strong hips hump to meet yours. Maybe in the morning, with a kiss on the cheek and the taste of coffee on your tongue. He puts so much care into repeating your name that you almost cave when he asks if you want to get smoothies together.

You're a strong, independent woman. That and, well, his pissed-off face was sexy. Your glossy lips smirk at him as you cock your hip, "Sorry, I'm getting drinks with friends. I'll catch you later, though, yeah?"

"...Alright, yeah."

The way you ditch him in the dust leaves him half-chubbed in his shorts. God, you were such a cock tease. If only he could kiss you and show you what you're missing out on by playing cat and mouse. Thick fingers adjust his shorts, and Bakugou pushes his hair back, opting to turn back to his friends indulging in flower necklaces and drunk karaoke.

If you wanted to be the mouse, he had no problem being the cat.

Everything's clear-headed and far too boring and bright. Within time and the coaxing with your friends; you're grinning ear to ear after too many puffs of a joint and sips of cocktails. Things tilt around you, and the music sounds irresistible as you feel the rhythm lend you dance moves. Everything feels like ecstasy as you twirl in circles with your crew. The alcohol was flowing, and you were starting to have that craving for closeness as things ramped up and up.

Natsumi practically topples you over as she blushes into your face. "Come with me. I made some friends."

“Friends? What kinda friends?”

 "Don’t ask, just go. Come on, you have to! They’re cool, you really gotta meet 'em," your friend pleads as you give her a reluctant look.

"Well, okay…"

Natsumi hiccups as she escorts you a few tables over. She giggles about someone being your type, and there's a real worry that the alcohol is clouding her mind, and you’re about to have to reject a loser.

"Hey, Natsumi! I was wondering where you went!"

A yellow-toned boy speaks up, face flushed as he waves a sloppy hand from where he rests on a beachy pull-out. Next to him, Bakugou nurses a rum and coke, eyes red and cast downward towards the ground. They lazily crawl a path up to your eyes, a bit woozy but flickering with recognition.

No fucking way. Of course, he's here, and of course, he looks fantastic! You know your dress looks immaculate. There was no denying that, but Bakugou left your mouth embarrassingly dry. His white button-up was nice, but it was more about what it revealed; tanned skin and the promise of more the further you looked. As you looked down at his body, Bakugou looked up at yours.

As you sit down, you can't help but open your mouth, "What are you doing here?"

"My friends dragged me out, I could be sleeping by now."

You find yourself letting out a small laugh and turning toward him with interest. He really wasn't so bad.

“You sleep early?”

“You don’t?”

Amid it all, Bakugou and you end up squished together as the budding love story of your two friends blossoms. Every time their heated make out spills into limbs crossing over into your bubble, you grunt in frustration, inevitably scooting closer to your frenemy with a slight sway.

"She is so ridiculous," you comment on Natsumi with a slight huff. "So is your friend, by the way."

"Maybe they're made for each other," he snorts.

A beat of silence passes by as you both observe each-other. It was really more like admiring, though.

 "Why're you so standoffish? I said I was sorry, called you pretty, ‘nd you don't wanna give me another chance?"

He grumbles when he says it but looks curious as his teeth sink into his lip for a split second. You almost get lost in the motion as you unconsciously lean closer like a moth to a flame.

"I didn't peg you as someone who begged."

"Sometimes you make mistakes, hm? And I'm not begging, babe, trust me."

The conversation dies, but the tension grows larger. The way his voice dropped made your thighs squeeze together. Blood flowed south as Bakugou traced over your red lips and briefly down to your cleavage–nice, he smirked.

"Well, whatever," you pray the sip of your lychee martini gives you a long enough reprieve to think of how to coyly flirt back. "What are you doing here anyway? Vacationing? Dying of an illness and this is your last hoorah?"

"Just relaxing. What're you doing besides bein' a brat. Spending daddy's money?"

"I paid for this trip myself, actually!"

"I like a smart woman," he says, moving to brush his thumb lightly against your cheek. He pulls away just as fast, and you can smell the breeze of his icy cologne. "I paid for myself, too. Can't rely on anyone or anything!"

You see the mask slip just a second. The calm persona dropped to reveal his boyish grin and messy hair.

"Yeah, you really can't."

It was so terrible that you knew deep down he was cute. You couldn't pretend at all. Now that you're starting to know him, you're falling head first into really liking him. You weren't sure if your girls' trip vacation could withstand a passionate, whirlwind romance.

"Oh my god, you know what would be totally fucking fun right now? What if we played a game? You guys know spin the bottle! C'mon," Natsumi beams excitedly.

"I haven't done that since I was still smoking cigarettes!" Ryoka shakes her head with a laugh.

"But, come on," she gives you all a pleading look. "If we haven't done it in forever, wouldn't it be fun to do it one last time?"

Natsumi's heartfelt yet drunken rambles strike a chord within all of you. You glance at Bakugou, who doesn't reply, only shrugging in acquiescence to the group. To hell with it, you call, raising your drink in the air.

"You know what, let's go for it! You're right, Natsumi."

Bakugou eyes you curiously as you stand to hug your friend with a slight wobble in your step. You had a point. To hell with it!

Moments later, you all were knee-rubbing, stumbling idiots sitting in a circle. The more you admire Bakugou as you sit across from him, the more you're hoping the stars align with the spin of the bottle. The kiss would be innocent. Fun and games. It meant nothing. That's what you told yourself to repent for your future sins.

A bead of sweat glides down the back of your neck as the glass goes round and round. You watch as Natsumi eagerly kisses a flushed Kaminari, who is all too eager to receive it. Ryoka and Ayami are familiar but sweet. Kirishima lands a peck on you, but it's nothing crazy.

You miss the way Bakugou's eyes glitter with disappointment every time the green bottle spun past him mockingly, taunting him deviously with the promise of vodka-tinged kisses. Only then do you both find a line drawn between point A, you, and point B, him.

"Finally," Ryoka slurs out.

Suddenly, you're nervous. You're nervous as you sit up a bit more and scoot closer over the bottle containing the will of fate. He looks calm and relaxed, his eyelids lowered just enough to make him look… wanting. Knees graze the carpet as you inch closer until you both can feel each other's breath.

The music is still bumping. The alcohol is still flowing, yet you're stuck in this standstill with nothing to break you out of your reverie. Other than the kiss that's planted on your lips, Bakugou tastes like rum and mint gum. You wonder if you taste like lychee, or maybe you'll mix into an entirely new flavor that leaves you both with incessant cravings.

You're unsure when or who pulls away first, but it happens. Your butt plops down right as the round of giggles surrounds you. Bakugou smirked as he sat back, crossing his legs and taking a smug swig of his drink. It was unfair that you were left dazed; he was the reason for it all.

You okay? He mouths over the talking that's come instead of the next bottle spin.

Are you? You ask with a smirk, flipping your hair in jest.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a full-on grin. You feel something fond bloom in your chest. Something that makes the sound of ringing bells when you see that flash of teeth and a glimpse of a slick tongue. Someone suggests dancing, and pairs of legs come into view as they stumble out as a crew, a unit. There are two missing cogs. You both stay sitting and facing each other.

"I thought you said you were okay," he jokes as he scoots closer.

You realize you have a tendency to mimic him, "I am. You're the one who didn't even try to pretend to follow."

"I don't pretend anything, pretty. I do and say what I mean."

There's a beat of silence, and your clit throbs at the tone of his voice.

"You know what I mean?"

His voice is deep, almost mocking, as he croons at you. You're going to fuck. It might be now, on the last day of your resort, but it would happen. Set in stone, if you will.

"I think I do."

"Mhm. Let's go dance, gotta show you what a real dancer looks like."

Bakugou offers a firm hand and pulls you up like you weigh nothing. It makes you feel tiny, and you wonder if the same effect will happen as you sway your hips against his dick.

You find yourself dancing to Nelly, and hearing lulls about being a promiscuous girl. It makes satisfaction thrum in your chest at having success in your findings. Grinding did, indeed, produce the same effect. Bakugou was trying to dominate your form, and you let it happen.

Bit by bit, you find yourself caring less about the group and becoming more preoccupied with Bakugou. You let him buy you drinks, giggling as your hands jokingly interlace before you pull away coyly. He only smirks at you, chasing you wherever you go, as if he didn't want you to forget him in your intoxicated parade.

He tells you to call him Katsuki when you slur his last name out, gripping the white button as you pout tiredly, "I want to go back to my room."

"Since when am I your keeper, huh?"

Katsuki lays a steady hand on the curve of your waist and lets you fall into him.

"Don't be mean, we bonded sooo much. I thought you were this asshole guy, but you're actually kinda funny and sexy."

"I think I knew that last part. Remember when you tried this on me before?"

"Are you dumb enough to still reject me?"

"Nah, not this time," he says, making sure to drink in your gaze as he does.

Thankfully, you'd already had your first kiss. That made it easier for him to lean forward and press his lips against yours. The promise of something more, and you practically purred as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Katsuki's hands skirt down your back, down to your hips, and pull you so close, "You're sexy, too."

A bartender squawks at your behavior, and his voice floats over the music and sticky kisses to yell for you to get a room! The man at your side noses your neck and then juts forward.

"Come to my room," and he's so gruff. Like he knows you want this, "Wanna get you alone and see how feisty you are then."

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth. Surely, your friends would be fine; your eyes flit between him and the crowd dancing behind him. Yeah, they'd be alright. Your hand slips into his, and he's quick to tug you next to him by your waist. He makes you unsteady and chuckles, "Let's get goin', then."

Neither of you is composed as you tumble through Katsuki's–clearly luxurious–room onto his plush bed. He's not afraid to lift you with his raw strength and place you right where he wants you. It makes you laugh, tinged with shyness, as his red predatory eyes sweep over you before settling on your face.

It's silent as both eyes hold this deep, wanting gaze. He crawls closer, and you lay back further; he's on top of you with a forearm dipping into the mattress and a veiny hand supporting his weight. Katsuki doesn't touch you as if he's waiting for something. You can't wait anymore, and you're ungracefully yanking him closer till his body weight rests on you, and you can feel his hardness poking at your thigh.

He must have been waiting on you–the bastard! But you can't deny that feeling the rippling strength resting on your body and pressing you into the mattress feels good. You and Katsuki exchange saccharine kisses as your bodies grind together like you're one. He grits his teeth and takes a sharp inhale when your wandering hand brushes against his bulge, "don't, fuck, don't do that."

"Why? Sensitive?"

Katsuki's vermilion eyes meet yours and narrow, "you're such a tease, you know?"

His voice is low and honeyed as he slowly peels your skirt from your thick thighs.

"All I did was ignore you the first time–"

"And then I did the second!"

Seemingly having had enough of your quips, a hush falls over you when his hand swats at your thigh, "Yeah, and you're still under me, begging for my cock. Ironic, right?"

He then snickers when sticky strings stretch from your slick pussy to the cotton underwear.

"She's beggin' too."

In a flash, he's lapping at your folds and groaning at how sweet you taste.

"Oh! Oh my god, w-wait!"

“Nuh-uh, no waiting.”

He's so messy with it. His chiseled nose bumps against your clit with every lap as he mixes spit with your leaking arousal; it's so debauched, and yet you're wailing for more as you try to push his face further between your thighs. Katsuki groans and your eyes meet right when he suckles your clit with his plush, rosy lips.

"Y-Your mouth's so good, ohfuck!"

Katsuki lets out a pleased hum before wrangling your squirming hips under a flexing forearm, "don' move too much. Wanna enjoy this, babe."

His right hand comes up to toy with your soaked hole. His teeth are sharp, and he's downright predatory in how he sinks two fingers into you. They're thicker than yours; a keening whimper escapes you.

"C'mon, tell me how it feels. Since you've been dyin' for it, I want a review, baby."

There's a wet clicking sound as fingers crook against that deliciously torturous spot, leaving stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Gonna cum! Wanna cum, ‘mygod, ‘tsukiii!”

"Already? Such a needy girl," and he latches his tongue to your puffy clit, massaging it as your pleasure uncoils into a white-hot explosion.

Somewhere in the haze, you can hear Katsuki murmuring, "Good girl, good girl," and leaving sharp kisses on your inner thighs. He chuckles at how you jump, how cute, and sighs into your neck before biting your pulse point.

"Holy fuck," you mumble, hands wringing into his shirt as he peels off his shirt and makes his way up yours.

"You alright? Looked like things were good," and he has the nerve to snicker at you. "It's okay to admit it."

"You're such a cocky bastard. When are you gonna fuck me?"

Katsuki's hands are practically already in his pants as he unbuckles his belt. He shoves his jeans down, and your eyes widen at how big he looks, the fat head leaving a dark patch of pre-cum against his gray boxers. You're coming closer as he tugs off his underwear, leaving him exposed. His cock bobs, smearing on his navel, while a throaty groan escapes his lips once you wrap a soft hand around him. He's so hot and weighty in your hand that you can feel how he practically pulses in your hand; you can't help but want to go in for a little taste…

He's gentle as thick fingers press back on the crown of your head, a tut escaping his lips as he shakes his head, "No way. I'll cum way too fast, wanna give it to you good."

The scratchiness of his voice leaves your thighs pressing together. Katsuki kisses you before motioning for you to settle on your hands and knees.

"Like this?"

You're practically mewling at him! Your back arches so tauntingly, cute butt perked up in the air and swaying back and forth. Katsuki draws close, and your eyelids are fluttering when his fat head bumps against your soaked folds, "ohfuck, stop admiring me already."

"And here I thought you wanted it all nice and sweet," and you're whimpering as the head barely breaches past your pussy. "But, I'll give it to ya' how you like it."

With that, his hands are smoothing over the curve of your back as his heavy balls press against your pussy clit. You're already caving for him, with eyes threatening to roll towards the ceiling as his hips stick to yours. He's so full inside you that you can barely move, barely breathe, only able to leak around him as he grunts, "so fuckin' tight. 'S like you're a virgin."

"Katsukiii. Fuck, pleasepleaseplease move!"

He hums thoughtfully, hips rocking just the slightest inside your gummy walls.

"Ask me again," and he punctures it with a thrust that leaves you breathless.

"Please, wanna feel you fuck me. I-I've been waiting for your annoying ass, I wanna cum so bad…"

The man behind you doesn't seem convinced, though his hips move just a tad faster. " C'mon. I know you can do it. What is it you want again?"

He's pushing you to your breaking point. Katsuki's strong enough that he can press forward and bend you further into that delicious arch, nearly fucking you into the mattress if he would just move!

"Oh god, fuck me. Need to feel you take control, Katsuki, I-I can't! I need you, need you so bad, 'm gonna cry. I jus' wanna feel you breed me, please!?"

"Was that so hard?"

Within seconds, he's hunkering down and fucking you within an inch of your life. Your hands desperately cling to the duvet as if that'll ground you, but he's moving too hard and fast!

"S-So deep, ohshit!"

"Ngh, yeah? You're fucking grippin' me, I love how you sound, how you taste, how you feel–fuuuuck. Let me have it, baby."

You're wailing as you gush around him. The smell of sex is overpowering, and your panting breaths mingle with Katsuki's. You can't help but push back just a bit, the two of you joined together so intimately. His muscles ripple with every rock into your cunt. You wish you could see how debauched he looks–though your ears are privy to the hot groans and curses flying out of him as he slides home over and over and over again.

Katsuki loses himself in your pussy, head tipping back to expose the expanse of his throat as his balls tighten with his orgasm. God, fuck, did you say to breed you? He tries to recover as he watches your sneaky hand desperately rub you till you're trying to run from his thrusts (to which he only tuts and brings you back full force towards him). The slick, papping sounds echo, and you're not even sure what you're saying as you wail for him.

"Oh, 'm gonna cum all over you. Ohfuckfuckfuck, wait! I-I'm gonna, Katsuki!"

"Yeah? Cum all over this dick, let me feel it. Fuck, 'm gonna cum too, gonna fill you up."

Your wrist twists another tight circle, and you're falling apart. Your thighs shake and tight walls squeeze Katsuki, trying to draw him as deep as possible as he hits your g-spot dead on. A cry escapes you, and you know his base is creamy from your orgasm. In the haze, you can tell he's close by how his fingers twitch around your hips; you start mewling weakly for him, "cum inside me. Ohmygod!!”

He's sure he's leaving bruises, and yet he doesn't even care as he shoots rope after rope inside you. God, your pussy sucks him in like it wants every drop; despite the sensitivity, Katsuki can't help but keep moving till you're whining from overstimulation. Pulling out slowly and giving your thigh a playful swat, the two of you practically collapse into the soft sheets.

Katsuki's hand quickly grabs your chin and pulls you to face him. " Are you good?"

With your hair mussed and bruises littering your body, you were more than good. A soft nod, and then you're scooting closer for warmth. Katsuki lets it happen to your joy, a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he hoists you close.

"Good, you gonna run off of me, now?"

"No. Are you?"

"It's my room, you stalker," he teases with a toothy grin. His features are relaxed, and his red eyes are a bit glazed.

He looks wonderful. Beautiful, even.

—

You review your mental checklist one last time as you pace about your room, door open. How could it have all ended so soon? You'd spent the rest of your days happily fucking, drinking, and soaking in the luxuries of the resort.

Katsuki lingers by the doorway. A flicker of fondness grows into a fire when you turn to see him and smile. When did he get so soft?

"Hey! What's up?"

"What's up? It's your last day, and you're what's upping me."

"Katsukiii," you drag out the syllables and catch the faintest smirk on his lips. "Don't get too sad while I'm gone."

"Please," he scoffs and rolls his eyes, the two of you making eye contact that holds longer than it should.

The two of you shouldn't be so dramatic; you should try to steel yourself. It's not like you've known each other for that long, Katsuki thinks before reaching out and pulling you into a loose hug.

"See ya," he grumbles.

"Hehe, text me! Call me whenever," you mumble into the muscle of his chest.

He smells like the start of a campfire, mixed with a cool cologne that wafts like the breeze of a nearby ocean. You pull away and look into the tides of his eyes, the Red Sea staring back at you, before he gently kisses your lips.

"I'll think about it. For now, I'll walk you out," and he wraps a possessive arm around your waist.

There was no other option; he was walking you out. You squawk at his comment, "That is not an 'I'll think about it' statement!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, lemme think on it."

"Stop it!"

[heywardsdoll]

your first kiss with pope was straight out of a fairy tale book. he'd taken to you the carnival, bought you a prize, and after that even offered to drive you back right on time. he's so cute. that's all you could think of. he was the prince you'd been waiting for.

you still remembered how pope's fingers drummed on the wheel, a cheeky smile on his face as he tried to sneak a look at you. you pretended that you weren't watching him, though you knew you were radiant with happiness. love was in the air, young love, sweet love.

he was everything that you'd ever wanted—a nice boy, a boy you could bring home, and for once a crush didn't mean pain. the way home had been peaceful, and you watched the stars glow under the dark, tapping on the window in a repetitive manner. noticing your restless, pope turned on the radio, and you shot him a grateful smile.

he was so careful with his driving, practically watching everything he could. you were tired of hiding your grin when you noticed how slow he was going, and oh, how nervous Pope seemed, as if this mattered more than anything.

it was only when he parked the car near your driveway that you got to look at him properly. where you got to admire the way his eyelashes kissed his cheek every time he blinked, or his full lips, or the way he was so lean and could probably fit perfectly in your arms. you shook yourself from those thoughts and instead focused on what was important. tonight. tonight was important.

"uh, thank you for tonight. i really liked it," you whispered, leaning closer to him, before your eyes flickered down to his lips, "i really like you." pope smiled, running a hand through his hair, letting out a chuckle. he was so close you could already imagine yourself kissing his lips.

"me too." pope exhaled, before quickly retreating nervously, "shit, i mean, i mean i like you, not commenting about how much i like myself or whatever–"

you let out a laugh before you clasped your hand around his mouth, "shh! no need to get nervous. don't ruin it." then you watched his kind eyes crinkle at the corners. it was only when you saw the way he relaxed when you took your hands off his mouth.

suddenly you felt out of place, blushing profusely as you hid your face in your hands. that was so rude of you! "wait, i didn't mean to cover your mouth, it was out of place for me to do that–"

here he grinned, taking his hands in yours. "nah, i liked it."

you blushed even more, pursing your lips to stop yourself rom beaming right at him. you were watching "you're cute," you whispered, slowly moving closer to him. the car windows were all fogged up, but you saw the way your house lights were off. tentatively, pope took a shakey breath as if torn.

gently though, his hand cupped your face, earnest eyes staring into yours. you bit your lip, watching his eyes flicker down. there was barely a sliver of space between the two of you.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes," you breathed out.

yes, yes, yes, you wanted to scream inside. almost awkwardly, his lips were on yours. he was so warm, his lips chaste on yours at first, only to become softer. his head was tilted forward, eyes half-lidded as you leaned into him even more. you could feel your breath catch. this was everything you wanted. he tasted like the caramel apples the two of you had shared earlier.

it was only after it was over, you smiled shyly, pursing your lips. he has some of your lipstick on his lips, a dazed smile on his face. it was then that pope reached out and fixed a lock of hair away from your face. you let yourself lean into his touch, but then gently started to get ready to leave. you watched him search your face for something, almost as if he was anxious the kiss meant nothing.

"good night, heyward," you murmured, letting a small giggle, "i'll see you around."

then you blew him a kiss, and before you left the car pulled him closer for another kiss. you hold his fingers close to your chest, before letting out a soft breath. you stared at him, biting your lip nervously.

"i really like you. don't screw this up," you whispered, feeling vulnerable as you play with the beads of your necklace.

but it almost all disappeared when pope leant in for one more kiss, softer this time, full of promise. “i wouldn’t dream of it.”

taglist; @cerya @rainbowpiss34, @vi4goswrld, @th3eternalersi, @gothiccvnt6996, @sluggmuffin, @aynanasstuff

[aliidarling]

yandere!gojo with civilian reader

GOJO SATORU x fem!reader

— dark content / lil oneshot kinda blurb

summary; gojo is interested in you, a broke college student! aren’t you just the luckiest!… right?

warnings; gojo, no nsfw but gojos creepiness makes up for it, yandere, stalking and creepy gojo.., mentions of blood, cursed spirits, gojo being an asshole, no beta we die like satosugo, this isn’t too dark ngl

this is just a small thing i thought of, it’s very random and definitely not finished LMAO

let’s say your a civilian in tokyo. you’re halfway done with college and you work half time at the local bakery, always stuffing your face in pastries or books. not one moment of your life is eventful or ‘exciting’— it’s quiet, calm and mostly, peaceful. you wouldn’t have it any other day.

until one day a tall pale man with an odd hair color waltz into your bakery. he has snow-white locks and wears black sunglasses, the lenses completely hiding away his eyes for some reason. you found it odd at first but you’ve learnt over the years to not butt your nose in other peoples lives.

he’s absolutely gorgeous, sadly. tall, a lean build under his light blue blouse, with a cocky smile on his perfect pink lips. he was something straight out of a fairy tale. too bad you would never be the princess in one of those tales, instead the background character you’d walk pass and never think about again.

you greet him with your famous smile, your apron covered in flour with your lashes fluttering at him so sweetly he can feel his heart skipping a few beats. he had never seen someone so gorgeous, so pretty and cute. you had the cutest round cheeks with a natural pink tint, perfect hair with perfect eyes and perfect body and perfect everything—

“can i get a mochi filled rice cake with rainbow sprinkles? and a caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and caramel— ooh! and id love some strawberry pudding too, sweetheart.” he giggles.

your slightlyyyy taken off guard by his sugary appetite, but hey, at least he wasn’t an alcoholic or one of those ‘black coffee’ freaks. you smile and type his order in, your tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

“that will be twenty six dollars and thirty nine cents, sir.” you smile politely, trying your best not to check this absolutely gorgeous stud out.

he grins, fiddling with his wallet. he makes sure to flash the wallet at you subtly, wanting to impress you. you spit the glimpse of something gold glinting in his hands and quickly sneak a side eye, the expensive brand name immediately making you flinch. rich people scare you.

“take the change.” he winks, handing you exactly twenty seven dollars. oh wow. sixty one cents tip. how kind.

“thank you, sir.” you nod in gratitude and stuff the money in the cashier, ringing up his order. your fingers quickly type in his order and print out the receipt, handing it to him. his clean nails and slender fingers catch you off guard as they brush against your fingers, obviously on purpose if you take a small look at the glint of smugness in his blue eyes(if he wasn’t wearing those stupid sunglasses.)

you don’t see him for a little bit after that. he’s completely disappears and you eventually forget about him, forget the fact he even exist. he was just another civilian after all.

but then one day on the way home you’re challenged with a threat to your life. it was a peaceful day so far, only three classes with the entirety of your evening spent in your bakery, cooking and baking and socializing with others as little as possible. you accidentally pricked your finger with a knife at one point which led to a small bandage wrapped around your index fingers, right under your gel-covered nails of your favorite shade.

a cursed spirit near by is strolling past with its jaw open, drooling at the scent of yummy cinnamon rolls and chocolate chips. you smelt so good, like a bakery, so tasty. it smelt something stronger in you as well; a familiar coming that belonged to the strongest. it wants a piece. it wants you.

it doesn’t take long to catch up with you, grabbing you from the back and sending you stumbling. you gasp as your thrown onto the hard concrete before you, blinking stupidly at the lack of people around you. what just happened? you scurry onto your feet, patting down your knees that were slightly bruised now, a frown on your quivering lips. no way a gust of wind had made you collapse so abruptly. it felt like someone had shoved you with full force.

a shaky sigh leaves your lips and you decide to move on with your night. you want to go home, after all. today was going to be movie night with you and your roommate. only ten more minutes till you reached the comforting presence of your apartment, you could do this.

you start walking back in the direction of your destination when you’re met face to face with the most disgusting thing you’ve ever encountered. no way it’s human, not with gouging eyes and melting skin, the distasteful scent of death attached to it. the aura around you became dark immediately, as if the entire street had faded into a dark abyss.

was this really how you were gonna die?

suddenly, the disgusting piece of crap literally explodes on you, covering you in purple blood. you immediately feel your lunch come up your throat, a shocked sob coming out of your throat as your knees buckle. you stumble back in shock, not sure on what the hell happened, before you feel your back collide with a firm chest.

you shriek and turn around quickly, blinking quickly and holding your backpack for dear life, phone to your chest. you’re covered in the purple blood and maybe a little bit of your own vomit, a completely distraught and terrified expression on your face.

and now the cocky bastard from a few days ago stands in front of you with his infamous cocky grin, holding up your keys with his finger, dangling it in front of your face tauntingly.

“you dropped this, honey!” he chirps, humming as he opens your backpack and stuffs your keys inside it obnoxiously, smiling down at you. he zips up your backpack and gives you a little pat on the head, cooing down at you like you were the most adorable little thing he had ever come across. you were. he wanted to grab you and kidnap you, keep you all to himself. his little secret.

“did you see that? the thing? it exploded— it’s all over me, i can’t— i can’t breathe, it’s so strong, the scent,” you ramble dumbly. you’re too sweet, he thinks. you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. you’re freaking out, your breath heavy as you hyperventilate. he gently shushes you, bringing his hand over your sticky hair and gently petting you.

“are you okay? you sound crazy, no offense.” he chuckles lightly, taking your hand in his. he’s very touchy for a man you’ve only met twice.

“let me walk you home, okay? we can’t have anything happening to a sweet little thing like you.” he soothes you. his charming tone and award-winning smile wins you over, sadly. you’re led home by him, trembling still. you don’t even realize the fact he knew your address without asking you for it.

he let you off that night with a simple kiss on the forehead. he came into your life like it was nothing, out of nowhere, seconds after you almost died— only to disappear once again like he never existed. you couldn’t process what was going on, what that disgusting animal was, what happened and how it exploded, and how he was there in the dark alley way.

all those thoughts clouded your brain, distracting you from reality. you couldn’t focus on your work, couldn’t focus at school, you accidentally spilled flour while you baked or tipped over a customers drink. your fingers couldn’t stop trembling whenever you’d look up and you’d see one of those disgusting animals on the ceiling of your bakery. sitting there. waiting.

they were everywhere. you’d go on the street and you’d see almost a dozen of them as you tried to walk home. there were some even clinging onto people, some stalking and others making their moves. you didn’t know what to do. what were these things? why were you the only one who could see them? were you cursed? damned?

meanwhile, satoru was having the time of his life. stalking you from the shadows, coming to your cafe every other day to ask for the same sugarized order, a big silly grin on his face. he made sure to play with your feelings. he thought this was so much fun.

“wait— before you go,” you suddenly spoke up one afternoon, stopping him right when he was about to walk out. a knowing smile tugs at his lips as he turns back to you, leaning against the counter.

“hmmm? what is it?”

you fiddle with your fingers for a moment, glancing anxiously around the shop and noticing how all the disgusting animals had suddenly disappeared. this happened every time he would walk in, the animals would scurry off in fear leaving just the two of you. it eased your worry but made you question as well.

“the other week.” you start hesitantly, leaning closer. “the alley way.. did you.. are you sure you didn’t see anything? there was someone— something!” you plead, a ting of desperation in your voice. of course you were desperate, you thought you were going insane.

“i’m sorry, but i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he coos sweetly, sipping his caramel frappe. the loud slurping fills the silence between the two of you. a few more weeks of this madness surrounding you and you’d have the courage to jump over the counter and pounce on him.

“..okay. have a good way, sir.” you mumble, sulking in defeat.

“satoru.” he corrects.

you blink in surprise. you peek up at him as he casually leaves the store, leaving you standing there in silence. soon enough, the dark animals come back and surround you, staring at you. doing nothing else but gaze.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Extra Warning! This chapter touches on Whitney's serious mental health struggles. It’s brief but dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and DNI. <3

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 18 - 'Long Distance’ | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

Winnie had just arrived in Madrid, buzzing with excitement about being there to see you and yeah, sure maybe for Jude’s match but lately boyfriends, fiance’s whomever's games weren’t all that exciting anymore, they’d lost their novelty. You headed straight to her hotel, practically skipping through the lobby to meet her. When you got to her room, she was already sprawled out on the bed, unpacking her things. You flopped down beside her, grinning from ear to ear, barely able to contain your giddiness.

“Alright,” she said, her voice full of mischief. “Spill. How’s this boy of yours doing?” Winnie gave you a knowing look, propping herself up on her elbows. “Still handsome? Almost your husband yet?” She giggled.

“Oh, gorgeous as ever. Definitely far from my husband though.” you laughed back, throwing her a playful glance. You leaned back into the pillows, your smile only growing wider. She rolled her eyes. You had gone to her hotel ahead of the match to gossip or as you two would call it ‘get ready.’

“Please, the way you talk about him, he might as well be! You live here now!” She teased. “I had to change time zones just to hang out with you. You and Whit have me racking up my fight miles. You two should give me a promo code to be your friend. You’ve both ditched me for all these English men. Surely, they can't’ be that good.” She smirked.  

“I mean…” You laughed, nudging her with your elbow, a shrug, and a raised eyebrow. Winine did know in fact. She’d given a few of Trent’s friends a go. “Also, we didn't ditch you! I’m home all the time. Plus, you’re here, aren’t you?” Winnie shot you a sarcastic look but couldn’t hold back her own laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure. But still. You and Whit are so wrapped up in your men, I’m starting to think I need to find myself a British lad to keep up!” You both burst out laughing, the sound filling the room, the kind of giggles that come when you’re in the company of someone who knows you better than anyone. For the next hour, you spilled everything to her—the ups, the downs, the dreamy parts, the sluttier moments, and the messier bits of your life with Jude. You told her about the quiet nights in Madrid, the ridiculous inside jokes you shared with him, the sweet minutes, and the awkward ones too. The whole time, Winnie listened intently, throwing in jokes here and there, but you could see the warmth in her eyes, happy for you.

“So, let me get this straight,” Winnie said after you’d finished. “You’ve been living this fairy tale, in love with a footballer, dream life, and I’ve just been…there, back in New York, missing all the action without my two best friends?” You laughed, shaking your head. 

“You’ve definitely been having your own fun.” You teased. She raised a brow, smirking knowing well she has had some fun. .  

“Well, fine. But you’re still out here living with your superstar husband in Madrid.” She poked fun at you a bit more. 

“He’s not my husband, Winnie.” You corrected her with some cheek. 

“Yet.” She winked, and you burst into laughter again, your heart feeling full. Being with her like this, joking about everything, made you realize how much you missed the simplicity of your friendship, even if your life had shifted dramatically. But as you sat there, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment, you knew you didn’t want to trade it for the world. You both were lying on Winnie’s hotel bed, tangled in fits of giggles as you filled her in on the plans for the evening. 

“So tonight, just the match…little night out after with their friends. I think you’ve met Jobe and then you’ll like the Real boys. They’re sweet” you said, excitement and nerves mixing together. You’d been looking forward to it for a bit. Just having a girlfriend back with you but there was always that undercurrent of tension when it came to these events with Jude, especially with all that had been on your mind lately. Winnie propped her head up on her hand, giving you a knowing look. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll have a fucking night out, and then tomorrow morning when I’m hungover and met a sweet spanish boy I will fly off to England to see Whit and Teddy girl,” she said, her tone softening from cheek when she mentioned them. “I haven’t seen them in so long, I miss that chubby little girl… and Whit too.” She smiled. You smiled at the mention of Whitney and Teddy, but that smile faltered when you thought about the gallery event you had to attend soon, the one that would take you away from Madrid, leaving you to miss the match in England.

You know I have to be at the gallery so I’ll miss the match as well,” you confessed, sighing heavily. “It’s this big opening, I can’t miss but I don’t know, Win. I don’t know how long things can keep going like this.” You sighed. Articulating your fears aloud made them all the more real. 

“I know. I’ll be back in time for it, probably straight from JFK but  it’s okay. What makes you so worried? You and Jude are fine, you’ll sort it out. It’s just some travel.” Winnie sat up slightly, raising her brow. You shook your head, your smile fading. 

“It’s more than that. I’m always flying back and forth. We keep missing these big moments. How long before it all just…falls apart? Like how many matches, how many openings, how many holidays before you start to question the whole thing.” Your bottom lip quivered. Winnie’s expression softened as she studied your face, seeing how much this was weighing on you. But she, being Winnie, always knew how to keep things light, even when the mood was heavy. 

“Well, the flight here was great! He’s not exactly flying coach, is he?. And honestly,  in addition to just how great you are… he’s getting sex out of this so really… he’s a lucky lad, all three of those things are wonderful,” she joked, nudging you playfully. You couldn’t help but giggle, but the laughter was tinged with sadness. 

“I know, but…” you trailed off, your voice quieter now. “It just feels like…it might be doomed, you know? Like there’s no real way to fix it.” You mumbled. Winnie grabbed your hand, squeezing it. 

“Hey, stop. It’s not doom. It’s just life. You and Jude…you’ll figure it out. Relationships are hard, yeah, but you love him, right?” She asked, knowing the answer. 

“Of course, I do.” You nodded, biting your lip. 

“Then that’s what matters,” she said firmly, her voice full of that sisterly wisdom. “Take it one step at a time. Tonight, enjoy the match, enjoy being with him. Stop worrying about all the ‘what ifs.’” You sighed, leaning back into the pillows, grateful to have Winnie there, but still feeling the weight of it all.

“I just don’t want to lose him,” you admitted, your voice small. “I don’t want to be this deep to lose it.” You frowned.  Winnie smiled at you, soft and understanding. 

“You won’t,” she said, confident. “Not if you keep being honest with each other. And hey, if it makes you feel better, at least you’re getting this weather versus New York shit right now and you’re getting sex with a pretty boy, it can’t be so bad, right?” she teased again, making you laugh despite yourself.

“Yeah,” you said with a small smile. “At least there’s that.” But deep down, the uncertainty still lingered, and as you got ready to leave for the match, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the future was more fragile than you wanted to admit. Moments later when you pulled the Bellingham kit over you and tucked it up into your bra to crop it. You inspected your toned torso in the mirror with a pout as you buttoned up your jeans.  Winnie tilted her head back dramatically, laughing. 

“What happened to my party girl? Who is this?” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “Down so bad for a boy? You giggled, burying your face in your hands for a moment before looking back at her.

“I dont knowwww. I don’t know. Right? I’m just as surprised as you are,” you admitted, shaking your head in disbelief. “But…it’s different, Win. It’s so different with Jude.” you cooed. Finally buttoning the last one of your jeans. 

“Different how?” She raised an eyebrow, leaning in with curiosity. You thought for a moment, the words forming slowly as you tried to put the feeling into words.

 “I used to be so scared of being vulnerable. You know me—I was always the one keeping things light, never letting anyone get too close.” You paused, fidgeting with the edge of the bedspread now as you walked back over to her. “But with Jude…it’s like that vulnerability doesn’t make me feel weak. It makes me feel stronger. Like, being open with him makes me feel more protected, more myself than I ever thought I could feel. It reminds me of how you feel when you’re young like a naive bliss.” You cooed. Winnie listened intently, her playful smirk softening into a genuine smile. 

“That sounds…kind of beautiful, actually,” she said, her teasing tone gone, replaced by something more sincere. She smiled. You let out a sigh, though it was followed by a small, nervous laugh. 

“It is, I guess. But it’s also kind of scary, you know? It’s one thing to be vulnerable, but when all that trust is in someone else’s hands… It's terrifying. It’s like handing someone your heart and hoping they don’t drop it.” You cooed sadly.

“Listen to you! You sound like Whitney talking about T.” Winnie shook her head, grinning. You both laughed at that, and you ran a hand through your hair, still shaking your head in disbelief. 

“I know, right? When did I become that girl?” You cooed confused but with a bit of enjoyment. Winnie gave you a soft shove. 

“Hey, don’t knock it girlie. You sound happy. It makes me happy.”  Winnie said. 

“I am,” you said, your smile growing a little wider, more certain. “It’s just…new, you know? Trusting someone… Trusting Jude.” You sheepishly asked. 

“I get it,” Winnie said, squeezing your hand. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you. And Jude? He’s lucky to have you, party girl or not.” 

As you walked hand in hand with Winnie through the bustling crowd at the Bernabéu, the energy was electric, every inch of the stadium buzzing with excitement. The final game of the season always brought out the most die-hard fans, and tonight, the sea of Bellingham jerseys seemed endless. A year ago, this sight would’ve made you feel smug, the thought that some of these women were here for the man you gotta go home with. But now, as Jude's girlfriend, that same sea of jerseys stirred something different—a twinge of jealousy you hadn’t expected. Winnie gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as you glanced around, noticing groups of girls whispering and pointing, no doubt hoping to catch a glimpse of the Real Madrid star or his inner circle. You could hear their giggles and murmurs, and though you tried to ignore them, it was hard not to feel a little protective, knowing Jude was the object of their affection.

“Hey… who is this person?” She felt your energy shift. “Y/N… Don’t let them get in your head,” Winnie said softly, leaning close so only you could hear. “You’re his one. They’ll know it eventually. When you guys want.” She smirked. Winnie had been inquiring about your relationship being public earlier. You said you hadn’t really thought about a launch. Which was sort of true so you just smiled gratefully at her, appreciating her unwavering support. 

“I know,” you murmured, though the flutter of nerves didn’t quite settle. Winnie’s presence was a comfort, but you still felt that underlying tension— seeing Jude’s family and friends tonight added an extra layer of pressure, especially with all eyes on you. As you finally reached the box, Denise greeted you with her warm, welcoming smile. She gave you a quick hug, and you could tell she was happy to have you there. Standing just behind her, however, was Jude’s brother Jobe, who smiled a bit shyly and a bit slyly. You’d met him briefly before in Greece, but tonight was different. It wasn’t just a casual family gathering; you were stepping into Jude’s world in a much more public way. Winnie, as always, brought her usual infectious energy, waving at Jobe and immediately breaking the ice with everyone. It helped lighten the mood, and soon enough, you felt yourself relaxing into the group, even though the nerves hadn’t completely left you. But as you stood there and scanned the stadium, your gaze fell back on the crowd of girls below, you felt like many of them dressed to impress, hoping to catch a player’s attention. They were wearing his jersey with pride, their faces filled with admiration, and while you understood their love for him as a player, a part of you couldn't help but feel territorial. 

"Girl, stop. They wish they were you," she teased, flashing you a knowing smile. "But they’re not, and they’ll never be." Whitney leaned over, sensing where your thoughts had drifted. You chuckled softly, but the truth was, being Jude's girlfriend came with a lot more than just the title. You feared officially entering this uncharted territory. One where you felt so apprehensive, so nervous. One you’d heard about from Whitney filled with the constant scrutiny, the attention, and the understanding that every game wasn’t just about football—it was about navigating the world that came with being tied to someone so famous. As the match was about to begin, you found yourself watching Jude on the field, his focus sharp, his movements effortless. He was brilliant, and it was impossible not to be proud of him. But tonight, standing alongside his family and friends, surrounded by all these women who him from afar, the reality of it all hit you. You weren’t just dating any man—you were dating *Jude Bellingham*. And while you knew he was yours in every way that mattered, there was no denying the subtle weight that came with being by his side in the spotlight. When Jobe’ greeted you his hug lingered a moment longer, his embrace comforting in the way only a sibling’s could be. When he pulled back, his wide grin made it impossible not to smile in return, and you felt an immediate wave of relief. You had been apprehensive about seeing Jude’s younger brother, about how Jude’s friends and family would see you, but Jobe’s warmth quickly erased those worries.

“Haven’t seen you since Greece, you look good,” he teased, his tone light. “But I feel like I see you all the time.”

“Yeah?” you asked, confused but curious. Jobe’s grin widened mischievously. 

“Well, I’m not the one telling you….don’t tell Jude I said anything, but… since you guys started dating, it’s like he can’t stop talking about you. Every day, it’s another photo, another update.” Jobe smirked. 

“He sends your family photos of me?” Your heart fluttered. 

“All the time,” Jobe nodded, trying to suppress a laugh. “It’s like, every other day in the family chat. There’s always a picture from dinner—he sends them across the table when you aren’t looking. Then there were photos of your gallery; he was really proud of those. And there was a ton from the Grand Palais—he sent it the day he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend, asking us if it looked good enough as they got it set up.” Jobe smirked, loving the opportunity to expose Jude. Your cheeks flushed as you processed what Jobe was telling you. Jude had shared all these intimate moments with his family, the moments you hadn’t even known were so significant to him, you assumed he cared but to know he had shared them with his parents, with Jobe openly. You could feel the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, realizing just how much you meant to him.

“The Grand Palais?” you murmured, still in disbelief. “He sent that?” Jobe nodded enthusiastically, clearly amused by your reaction. 

“Yep, he was stressing out about everything being perfect. Even sent us a picture of that shit painting he made with you. He wanted to make sure it was good enough.” Jobe dramatically and facetiously pouted, making fun of Jude’s behavior.  Your breath caught as you remembered the painting he’d done at your chateau, the care Jude had taken with it, the thoughtfulness behind every brushstroke. It had meant so much to you at the time he was even trying but now, knowing he’d been so nervous about it, about asking you to be his girlfriend—it made your heart swell even more.

“I didn’t realize…” you began, your voice soft, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the depth of Jude’s affection.

“Yeah, so maybe the girls in section 102 might not know your name but…”  Winnie cooed. “I think the people who do are the ones that matter.” She giggled while finally hugging Jobe hello. 

“Yeah, Y/N, our family definitely knows. He doesn’t shut up.” Jobe said, his tone shifting to something more serious. His words struck you deeply. The image of the girls in the stadium, all wearing Bellingham jerseys, their adoration for Jude evident, had momentarily made you feel invisible. But now, hearing how much you meant to his family, that Jude had been showing you off to them in a way more personal than any public declaration—it made you realize that those other people didn’t matter. What mattered was how deeply you were cared for, how loved you were by the people that meant the most to Jude.

“Thanks, Jobe,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of his words sink in. “I didn’t know he was sharing all of that with you lot.” You told him. Jobe chuckled, nudging you again. 

“Yeah, he’s obsessed. But honestly, we’re glad you’re with him. Even if it means he’s clogging up the group chat with photos of you.” Jobe teased. You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Jobe’s teasing felt like an unspoken seal of approval, and that meant more than anything. There was something about being accepted by Jude’s family that made the whole relationship feel more real, more secure.

“So, I’m the reason for the constant notifications?” you joked, trying to wrap your head around the idea of Jude sending photos of you to his family.

“Pretty much,” Jobe smirked. “But hey, at least they’re good photos. You’ve got him all soft, you know. He’s never been like this with anyone.” Your heart did a little flip at his words. Jude had always been sweet with you, always shown you his affection, but to hear it from Jobe, to know that even his brother could see how much he cared—it was everything.

“Really?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the gravity of what Jobe was saying sinking in.

“Really,” Jobe confirmed. “He’s mad about you. A right melt.” He laughed. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a deep, undeniable sense of love and belonging. The girls in the stadium, with their jerseys and their signs, didn’t have anything on what you shared with Jude. You might not be plastered all over the tabloids, but you were woven into his life in ways that really mattered—in the family group chat, in his moments of vulnerability, in the small, private snapshots he sent when he thought no one was watching. 

“So, really don’t worry about things. Don’t need to. Embarrassingly, Jude’s all yours. And we all know it.” Jobe’s voice broke through your thoughts.  You smiled at him, feeling lighter than you had in days. “Now c’mon, got to find mum. I think she’s already started the pre-game nerves.” He grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder in that casual, brotherly way You laughed, falling into step with him as you both made your way through the stadium. As you walked, you couldn’t help but glance at the sea of jerseys again, but this time, it didn’t bother you as much. You felt maybe you had something more—something real, something lasting. The energy in the stadium was electric, but despite the excitement of the game on going, you couldn’t shake the weight sitting in your chest. It should’ve dissipated when Jobe told you those things about Jude. Instead you stood anxiously in the box with Denise and Winnie as the match stood stuck in a stalemate. Jobe was sat with a few of he and Jude’s hometown friends. A group of boys that were visiting. They were tight enough to be up here but not close enough to be going out with you later or staying at the house. As they were watching the match unfold, they were talking shit and unfortunately you heard more than you cared for but they got bolder when Jobe stepped away for a moment. As the match went on, Jobe joining you and his mum, the comments from Jude’s hometown friends continued to gnaw at you. They were louder now, more confident as they joked amongst themselves.

“Can’t believe he’s cuffed now,” one of them said with a chuckle, looking at you between quick glances sideways.

“Yeah, I thought Jude wouldn’t settle till he came back home. Bet he’s not gonna last with her though. He can’t be serious,” another added, laughing as if you weren’t standing right there, your stomach twisting with every word.

“Maybe it’s an image thing. Think they met through TAA.” One quipped. You kept your eyes on the field, trying to block it out, but the insecurity settled deep in your chest. Were you just some fleeting thing in Jude’s life? It was like what Jobe just said dissipated. Surely, Jude couldn’t be that devious. Just another girl he could casually show off for a season or two before moving on? The thought haunted you, and it was impossible to shake.

“Is she really his girl, or is she just another one?” one of them whispered, glancing at you with skeptical eyes.

“Maybe she’s just the end-of-year trophy,” another joked under his breath. It stung more than you wanted to admit. It wasn’t really about you specifically, it could've been about any girl, but that was the problem. You had been with Jude for a while now, and though things were progressing, there were still moments when you felt unsure of your place in his world. The casual teasing from the boys wasn’t anything malicious, just the usual banter they probably shared amongst themselves, but it felt like a direct attack on your insecurities. They had no idea you could hear them. Jobe had clarified when they first asked, casually confirming that you were, indeed, Jude’s girlfriend, but that didn’t stop their snide remarks. You wanted to brush it off, but it was hard when those doubts already lingered in your own mind. Was this all it was to them? Was that what Jude and Jobe’s ‘friends’ saw when they looked at you—someone temporary, disposable? You tried to focus on the match, but your thoughts kept circling back to another time you were at one of Jude’s games, and he had dismissed you in front of everyone. That memory haunted you. Now, you were standing there, waiting for him to come up after the match, terrified of how he’d act. Would it be the same? Would he brush you off like you didn’t matter? Every minute felt like an eternity as you stood near the entrance to the box, eyes glancing toward the door, waiting for Jude to come up after the final whistle blew. The crowd had begun to thin out, and Denise and Winnie were still in good spirits, chatting away post victory, but you felt like you were on edge, balancing on a fine line between calm and panic. When you finally saw Jud  cutting through the crowd, your heart raced, a wave of anxiety crashing over you. He was in his joggers, his face glowy from the post game. Your hands clenched at your sides, and for a brief moment, all the worst-case scenarios flashed through your mind. You remembered the way he had casually dismissed you as a friend, and it terrified you to think that it might happen again, especially after what you had overheard. Jude’s eyes scanned the entire box, and when they landed on you, your breath caught in your throat. Would he be distant? Cold? But then, a smile spread across his face, genuine and warm. He jogged over to you tiredly but with a happiness behind his eyes, his arms opening wide as he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair.

“My angel. Mmmmm” He hummed. “Hi baby,” he murmured into your ear, and just like that, the tension in your body started to melt away. You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him a little tighter than you normally would. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed your temple softly, and in that moment, it didn’t matter what his friends thought. It didn’t matter that they had made jokes or questioned your relationship. Jude was here, and he was making it clear that you weren’t just some passing fling. But even as his affection calmed some of your fears, you couldn’t help but feel that nagging insecurity. Getting deeper into this relationship with Jude meant that your emotions were more vulnerable than ever, and you wondered if you’d always feel this way—wondering if you were enough, if you were truly seen. It was the first time in your life you really questioned if you were enough for someone. He cupped your face and moved you to give him a kiss, a real kiss.  And though his face had lit up at the sight of you, and he kissed you sweetly. His lips were soft and familiar, but instead of the usual warmth that flooded your body, you felt a strange hollowness. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t sure why—it was Jude, the man you loved, but it felt like something was missing. How many times had he done this? How many girls had stood in your place before, waiting for him after a game, only for it to eventually fizzle out? How many friends had been there long before and long after these relationships. You wanted to feel secure in his arms, but all you could hear were his friends’ snide comments, their laughter echoing in your head.Jude pulled back from the kiss, his eyes scanning your face with concern.  “Angel, what’s up with you?” he asked softly, sensing your hesitation.

“No, nothing.” You shook your head, forcing a smile. He frowned, not buying it. 

“Please talk to me,” he urged, his voice gentle but insistent. You didn’t want to—didn’t want to voice the swirling thoughts in your mind. But he wasn’t letting it go. “Come on, baby. Talk to me,” he pressed again, his hand resting on your waist as if trying to anchor you. You hesitated, your chest tightening. Then, almost without meaning to, the words slipped out.

“Are you really sure?” you asked, your voice small. “Are you really sure you want me when you have all of this?” You nodded outwards.

“What do you mean?” His brow furrowed, clearly confused. You gestured again vaguely to the room, to the crowd, to the friends and the girls in Bellingham jerseys who were still lingering around. 

“All of this… all these people, all these options. Why would you want me when you have everything?” You muttered. If you told yourself that you would be asking a boy if you were enough from him before you met Jude you would’ve laughed in your own face. You would’ve shook yourself by the shoulders and told yourself to get it together. But the way Jude’s face softened, and without missing a beat, he cupped your face in his hands reminding you that things had changed. You had changed.  

“All of this is nothing… Don’t want it if I don’t have you. Game’s not nearly as fun if I don’t get to see you after. Dedicating goals to you, angel. You’ve changed the game for me.” His words were firm, unwavering. But before you could respond, he took your hand and, without a second thought, turned and led you out of the room. You barely had time to process what was happening as you left the box’s lounge, leaving everyone behind. The suddenness of it caught you off guard, but he didn’t stop until you were both in the quiet of a hallway, away from prying eyes. Jude led you out from the lounge, past the stands, down the halls and onto the pitch. You hadn't expected him to keep going, but before you knew it, you were walking across the hallowed turf of the Bernabéu. The stadium was massive-empty now, but the weight of its size pressed in on you. It was surreal. You were standing at the center of the pitch where history was made, where Jude played his heart out in front of thousands upon thousands and millions on tv. Your eyes were wide, taking in the vastness of it all.

"This place is huge, oh my God..." You almost gasped  but Jude wasn't letting you finish. 

"Kiss me," he said, his voice low but insistent, pulling your attention back to him.

"What?" you asked, giggling nervously.

"Kiss me," he repeated. His gaze was steady, unwavering. "If you want to know that I'm serious about us, kiss me. Right here." You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his words. 

"No," you teased with a playful smile. "You kiss me." You taunted. Before you could say anything else, Jude grinned and silenced you with a kiss. His lips met yours with a hunger that sent a spark through you, making the enormous stadium feel like it was just the two of you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. Your body melted into his, the world around you disappearing for that moment. When you finally pulled away, you couldn't help but laugh, a little breathless, filled with disbelief. You were standing in the middle of the Bernabéu, making out with Jude as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The absurdity of it hit you all at once. Then, from above, you heard loud booing echo across the field. You looked up and saw Jobe, Toby, and Winnie standing in one of the boxes, playfully jeering at you both. You laughed, burying your face in Jude's chest as he chuckled along, his arms still wrapped around you.

"Ignore them," Jude said, holding you tighter. He looked down at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'd kiss you in front of this place packed full if you'd let me." You raised an eyebrow. smirking. 

"Oh, yeah?" you teased with some mocking. He nodded, his cheeky smirk making your heart race. 

"I would've done it when the crowd was still here," he said, his tone teasing. "But, y'know, I was kinda busy... in the middle of a match and all. I had the game winner, slightly occupied but…"

You couldn't help but laugh again, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Jude leaned down, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, as if to tell you without words that no one else mattered — just you.

And after your makeout at the center of the pitch the night turned to be one for the books—full of laughter, drinks, and carefree fun. You, Winnie, Toby, Jobe, and their friends went out in Madrid, the energy light and joyful, everyone basking in the post-match glow. You found yourself taking shots with Aurélien. Winnie watched relieved to see your mood shift from tense to carefree. 

“Looks like you haven’t taken the party girl out of her yet!” She teased Jude pinching his arm. You laughed, feeling lighter, like everything was just as it should be, with the music thrumming through your body, the night full of possibility. But then Jude was right by your side, and in the heat of the night, you two couldn’t help yourselves. Your lips met, and suddenly, you were kissing like you were the only two people in the room. The music faded into the background, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. But of course, your moment was interrupted by a chorus of groans from Jobe, Toby, and Winnie, and co.

“Booo! Get a room!” Jobe called out with a teasing grin.

“Grossier.” Aurelien added with a laugh. .

“I did not fly across time zones to third-wheel this!” Even Winnie joined in, mockingly covering her eyes. You pulled away from Jude with a laugh, feeling the high of the night, the warmth of his arms still around you, and the carefree joy of being surrounded by friends. It felt like you were living in a bubble of happiness, everything and everyone in sync, no worries about the future. But the next morning shattered that illusion.You woke up with a hangover, but it wasn’t just the physical pain in your head that hurt—it was the sinking realization that today, you had to say goodbye to Jude. The high from the night before was gone, replaced by a heavy feeling in your chest. It was like a slap in the face, a punch in the stomach, the reality of your situation crashing down all at once.

You had to leave. Jude had to stay. And the uncertainty of when you’d see each other again gnawed at you, making every moment feel that much more bittersweet. The morning you were to leave Madrid felt like the longest, yet the shortest. The hours slipped away, and before you knew it, you were staring at your open luggage, dreading the final moment when you’d have to zip it shut. Jude sat on the floor beside you, silent, arms around your waist as if he could anchor you here with him. The weight of his embrace, usually so comforting, felt unbearably heavy today. Every few minutes, Jude whispered, ‘I love you.’ His voice was soft, as if saying it aloud might keep the inevitable at bay. You wanted to say it back every time, but your throat was tight with emotion, and all you could do was nod and try to focus on folding the last of your clothes. The silence between you wasn’t peaceful—it was thick, oppressive, like both of you were holding your breath, afraid that speaking too much would shatter the fragile moment you had left. When you finally closed your suitcase, you realized you had packed away the sweatshirt you wanted to keep in your carry-on for the plane. A small inconvenience, but in that moment, it felt like too much. You sighed, defeated, and before you could even ask, Jude was already pulling off his own jumper, offering it to you.

“You’ll just take mine, angel” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. You took it from him, holding it close to your chest, and the familiar scent of him—something you hadn’t even realized you’d grown so accustomed to—hit you all at once. It was like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, everything came crashing down. The dam broke, and tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. Jude didn’t hesitate. He reached for you, pulling you into a hug so tight it was as if he was trying to fuse you to him, like maybe if he held you close enough, you wouldn’t have to leave. His arms were secure around you, but there was a sadness in the way he held you, a desperate need to make this moment last. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the sobs rising up in your throat, trying to muffle them as you cried into him.

“I don’t want to be apart,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Jude’s breath hitched against your hair, and you felt him tighten his grip on you, his own emotions barely under control. 

“I know,” he breathed, his voice rough, thick with his own unshed tears. “ I know… I….I said I’d be strong for you, for us and I will be, but…” He pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears, though his own eyes were wet now, too. “I don’t want you to go. I love you too much. This hurts too much… bening apart” Hearing those words—seeing the pain in his eyes—made your heart twist painfully in your chest. You had always known long distance would be difficult, but this felt like so much more. It wasn’t just about the physical distance, it was the emotional chasm it threatened to create. The thought of being apart from him, of not waking up beside him, not sharing the mundane moments of life, felt unbearable. You leaned into his touch, your forehead resting against his. 

“I know,” you whispered back, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to go either. I’m sorry.” You apologized and for a brief moment you weren’t sure why. For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same breath, as if that could keep you connected even after you left. Jude’s hands slid down your arms, pulling you into his lap, and you curled into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own. It was in perfect sync, like the two of you had always been. But that made it even harder. How could you leave when everything felt so right? When every fiber of your being was telling you to stay, to fight against the pull of time and distance? You clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. “Why does it have to be this hard?” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“Because I care so much,  we care so much,” he said softly. “Because this matters.” Jude pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he tried to find the right words. The room was too quiet now, the ticking of the clock on the wall a cruel reminder that time was slipping away. You could feel the weight of the goodbye pressing down on you, heavy and suffocating. Jude’s hands ran through your hair, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the feel of you one last time before he had to let go. You pulled away slightly, wiping at your eyes, though the tears wouldn’t stop. 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you choked out, your voice breaking again. Jude’s own tears were finally falling, despite how hard he had been trying to hold them back. He looked at you with a sadness that broke your heart all over again. 

“I’m going to miss you more,” he whispered. “Every second.” He kissed you then, gently, tenderly, as if trying to pour all of his feelings into that one moment. His lips were soft against yours, and for a second, it was as if the world stopped spinning, like time itself paused just for the two of you. But it was fleeting, and when you pulled away, reality crashed back down around you. There was nothing left to do but say goodbye. No matter how much you wished you could stay, the world outside of this moment was waiting. Long distance wasn’t just a part of your relationship anymore—it was a reality you had to face, whether you were ready or not.

When you left Jude’s house in Madrid, you were holding back tears, trying to be strong as he walked you to the door. He had offered to come with you to the airport, but you knew it would only make things harder.

“Text me when you’re there, yeah?” Jude said softly, his hand resting on the small of your back as he leaned down to kiss you one last time.

“I will,” you whispered, your voice shaky. You could feel the weight of the impending distance between you, already missing him even though you hadn’t even left yet. Just as you stepped out, Jobe’s voice echoed from the living room. 

“Text me too!” he yelled, teasing as always, trying to lighten the mood. You both chuckled, but Jude’s laugh was bittersweet. His heart wasn’t in it, and you could see the sadness in his eyes.  As you drove away, Jude stood at the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets, watching the car pull out of the driveway. He lingered there for a moment before returning inside. He collapsed onto the couch beside Jobe, forcing a smile, but the silence between them was telling. After a while, Jude reached for his phone, pulling up a message thread. Denise came into the room not long after, a concerned look on her face.

 “Has she made it to the airport yet?” she asked, glancing between the boys.

“We need Y/N actually in the family group chat to keep tabs on her.” Jobe, ever the joker, chimed in. Jude grinned, but an idea sparked in his mind. Without hesitating, he created a group chat with all of his family members and, at the last second, added your number too. He sat there for a moment, staring at the screen, before typing…

‘Bellingham's checking in to make sure you’re all set.’

When your phone pinged with the message, you were sitting at the airport gate, trying to compose yourself for the flight. Seeing the notification light up your screen, your heart squeezed at the message. It wasn’t just a casual check-in—it was an inclusion, a subtle way of letting you know you were now part of them, of the Bellingham family. And even though it was just a text, it felt like more than that.Your heart ached, and you typed back a response…

 ‘Sadly taking off in a few. Thanks for having me. See you all soon xx.’

Almost immediately, your phone vibrated again, but this time it was from Jude’s number. 

‘Hope you don’t mind, angel. You being a part of the chat felt right. They miss you already, but couldn’t possibly as much as I do.’

You smiled, but tears pricked at your eyes. You stared at the screen for a moment before typing back, 

‘About time I was added! xx' 'Miss you too, more than I can say.’

As the plane taxied down the runway, your thoughts lingered on the warmth of his family, the connection you felt—not just with Jude, but with all of them. Being welcomed into their circle, however informally, made the impending distance feel less daunting. But nothing could quite fill the ache of being away from Jude.

The gallery opening felt like a disaster waiting to happen. Every small detail seemed wrong, and nothing felt like it was coming together. Every day since you left felt disastrous. You’d paced your apartment for hours, rifling through your wardrobe, tossing dresses and outfits onto the bed, convinced nothing looked right. Even your apartment in New York felt stale, disconnected from the life you’d been living with Jude, as if the distance between you both had grown with each day since you left Madrid. You slumped against the closet door, still half-dressed, feeling a sense of frustration bubbling up inside. A sharp knock at the door startled you. With a sigh, you padded barefoot to the door, swinging it open to find a delivery man standing there, a massive bouquet of flowers in his hands. The scent hit you immediately—vibrant, fresh, and full of life. It felt like someone had swung open a window, letting fresh air into your dull space.

“Delivery for Y/N L/N,” the man said with a smile, handing over the bouquet. Your breath hitched as you took the flowers, realizing instantly who they were from. You placed them on the counter, your fingers quickly reaching for the small card nestled within the petals.

“Sorry I can’t be there tonight, Angel. So proud of you. Love you always xx Judey.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You knew it was meant to be playful. The fact that he signed it Judey a nickname he loathed but occasionally would let slide if you said it. A subtle reminder that he was always there, even when he couldn’t physically be by your side. His thoughtfulness, his support—it was a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed today. You stared at the flowers for a moment, feeling the tension slowly melting away. You had tucked back into your wardrobe to continue on your mission when  Winnie barged into your apartment, all business and energy, having flown back to the city for her own work, she had a pit stop in England to see her niece and even though she might’ve missed the England game, she was determined to make it to your show. Her eyes immediately fell on the extravagant bouquet, and she let out an exaggerated pout.

“Ughhh, Judeeyyyy,” she sighed dramatically, plucking the card from the flowers. “He’s so sweet it actually hurts.” You heard her overzealousness and you laughed softly as you stepped out from your wardrobe, half-dressed and still frazzled. 

“He’s very sweet and very far away,” you said with a smile, shaking your head with a frown. You spun around to show her the undone zipper of your black asymmetrical mini dress for her to help with.

“Got yourself a good one.” Winnie gave you a teasing smirk, waving the card before she helped. “You and Whit bagged two bestie teammates just leaving me out to dry here.” She joked. It was lighthearted, you both knew that,  Winnie currently had her own lovelife saga playing out. You chuckled, but your heart felt lighter, the weight of the day lessened by the presence of Jude’s flowers and Winnie’s unrelenting support. You stood there for a moment, taking in the warmth that came with their love and friendship, realizing that maybe everything wasn’t as chaotic as it seemed. The days leading to the opening to it had been spent scrambling, catching up on everything you had left behind while you were away. The weeks spent working from your laptop were not enough. New York had its pace, and after being gone for so long, it felt like you were out of sync with the city’s rhythm. You barely had time to breathe between finalizing the last touches, overseeing installations, and fielding endless calls from the gallery team. It was all a blur. The actual gallery opening was a whirlwind of frantic activity. And then, in the midst of the chaos of the opening, you heard the familiar hum of the door. You turned, half-expecting another guest or buyer to bombard you with questions, but instead, you were greeted with a smile that made you pause. Louis stood in the doorway, a calm presence in the storm of your evening. His smile was warm, comforting, his toothy grin that reminded you so much of your father. He had RSVPed, of course, but in the frenzy of preparing for the opening, you had completely forgotten. For a moment, you were just happy to see him, your shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.But then, you noticed the figure standing beside him. Gabriel. In truth, Gabriel just happened to be in town, this wasn’t meant to be like a swindling but the sight of him knocked the air from your lungs. You hadn’t expected this. Not tonight. Not ever, really. It had been ages since you had seen him, and in all the chaos of your life recently—your relationship with Jude, the long-distance struggle, your art—you had pushed Gabriel from your mind since Louis used him as a reference point of who’d be better suited for you at the chateau. Yet here he was, standing beside your brother, looking just like he did when you last saw him. That old, familiar pull of history, the memories you’d long since buried, resurfaced in an instant. Your brother, oblivious to the sudden tension tightening in your chest, almost forgetting his suggestion to you in France, walked toward you, his arms outstretched for a hug. You smiled, though it felt tight, your eyes flickering from him to Gabriel as they approached.

“Ouah, you didn’t think I’d miss tonight ma cherie, did you?” your brother said, his voice teasing as he embraced you. But your gaze remained locked on Gabriel, who stood back a little, waiting, watching.

“Non, bien sûr que non” [no, of course not] you managed to reply, forcing your attention back to your brother, hugging him tightly, trying to ignore the weight of Gabriel’s presence just steps away. But when your brother pulled back, Gabriel stepped forward. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you were frozen, caught in a time warp where the past and present collided. You couldn’t tell if the feeling in your stomach was nervousness or something deeper, something unresolved.

“Salut,” Gabriel said, his voice soft, a stark contrast to the loud buzz of the gallery around you. You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. It wasn’t that anything happened between you two, fine, maybe a messy make out at a cotillon, but then you grew up, he ventured more in a straight edged life and judged you for your own path but there was something bizarre that lingered. Maybe it was the intersection of your two families, it was more the idea of you two. Let’s just say Louis wasn’t the first person to suggest the pairing. 

“Hi, hi, thank you so much for coming” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The room felt too small, the noise too loud, and the world seemed to close in around the two of you. “c'est bon de te voir.” [it's good to see you.]  Your brother, sensing none of this, launched into conversation, but you could barely focus. All you could feel was the weight of Gabriel’s eyes on you, his presence pulling at something you thought you’d left behind, like your youth or a possible path you could’ve taken in your life. If you were with someone like Gabriel… he’d be here supporting you. This night, this gallery, wasn’t intended to be so reflective of your life ahead. It was about celebrating your present, your art. And now, the past had come back to stand right in front of you. 

The night had stretched far beyond what you anticipated. The room, with its artfully arranged displays and soft lighting, blurred around you as the champagne coursed through your system, leaving you slightly tipsy and far too loose in conversation. You found yourself in a tucked-away corner of the gallery, speaking to Gabriel, of all people. You hadn’t intended to spend so much time with him, but once he’d started talking about his mum, the familiar empathy you had for him pulled you in. It wasn’t about you and him—not anymore. There was solace between you two, you thought, like you knew what could’ve been, but you didn’t want that—not anymore. You could tell he was struggling at the party, and maybe, in some subconscious way, you wanted to help. But then again, the champagne made everything feel softer, easier, even this reunion you hadn’t expected. As the conversation deepened, you caught sight of Louis moving through the crowd. His expression was unreadable, a quiet calm masking something far more intense. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then you saw his stride quicken as he made his way toward you and Gabriel. Without a word, Louis slid beside you, draping his arm around your shoulder in a way that only a brother could—protective, almost territorial. 

“So, what time’s the kick-off for Jude’s match tomorrow? ”His voice was light, casual, but the undertone was sharp as he asked you. At the mention of Jude’s name, a soft smile tugged at your lips. You couldn’t help it. Even across an ocean, he was still the center of your world, the one person who grounded you amidst all the chaos. But Gabriel… Gabriel hadn’t expected that. He misread the entire situation, and you could see it in the way his posture stiffened, in the way his eyes darkened with confusion. Louis had seen it too, and that’s why he was here.

“Pourquoi? Why are you asking?” you replied, slightly amused, but still a little tipsy, playing along with Louis’s sudden curiosity.

"Oh, je fais juste en sorte que tout le monde ici sache que Jude est ton petit-ami.” [Oh, just making sure everyone here knows that Jude is your boyfriend.] Louis’s voice became more deliberate as he emphasized, almost too casually. He lingered on the word, each syllable dripping with purpose as his eyes flickered to Gabriel.Gabriel blinked, caught off guard, and quickly excused himself. He mumbled something about needing to speak with someone else, but the message was clear: he didn’t like the mention of Jude, and the awkward tension of the moment was enough to make him retreat. Gabriel stepped away feeling like he’d officially lost a battle he hadn’t even known he was in. And the moment Gabriel was out of earshot, you spun toward Louis, incredulous. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hissed, not sure whether to laugh or be angry. Louis looked down at you, his brow furrowed. 

“Quoi? I didn’t do anything wrong. You were flirting with him.” He explained like it was incredibly obvious. You threw your hands up, exasperated. 

“Flirting? With Gabriel? Louis, come on, you know me better than that. I wasn’t flirting—I was just talking to him.” Your voice softened, a mix of frustration and confusion. “And why do you even care?” He crossed his arms, his defensiveness rising. 

“Because he’s a twat. He’s not good for you. Jude’s good for you.” Your heart sank at the mention of Jude again, this time not in a happy way, but in the way that reminded you of the ache of missing him. You stared at Louis, searching for an explanation, and after a moment, his expression softened. With a sigh, Louis became sentimental. 

“Look, I haven’t seen you this happy in years. Not since grand-mère was alive.” His voice broke slightly, and you could see the sincerity behind his tough exterior. “You’re at peace with Jude. You’re happy in a way you haven’t been in so long, and I…I just don’t want you messing around with someone like Gabriel and forgetting what you have.” The words hit you like a wave, and suddenly, everything felt heavier. You were silent for a moment, caught between understanding and frustration. Louis pulled you into a hug, and you could feel the guilt in his embrace. “I’m sorry Jude’s not here tonight,” he murmured. “But, for what it’s worth, I kind of wish he was. At least then I’d have someone more interesting to hang out with than Gabriel.” Louis smirked.  You couldn’t help but laugh at that, though it was bittersweet. You pulled back, looking at your brother with a mixture of affection and exasperation. 

“C’est impossible.” [You’re impossible.] You whined through a giggle. Getting Louis’ approval was everything you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah, well, so are you,” he teased, his smile returning. But you both knew the underlying truth—that Jude wasn’t there, and his absence made everything feel just a little bit off. The night had gone as well as you could have hoped. 

The gallery opening was a success, and despite the exhaustion that followed, you went to sleep with a quiet sense of accomplishment. But even in the midst of your personal victory, you missed Jude. It was like an ache just beneath the surface, a longing that tugged at you no matter how proud you were of yourself. When morning light peeked through your curtains, the first thing you did was reach for your phone. Groggy but smiling, you called Jude. His face appeared on the screen, already awake, with that familiar cheeky smirk that always sent butterflies through you. He looked like he was up to something, and you immediately felt a flutter of curiosity mixed with nerves.

“What’s going on with you?” you asked, squinting at the screen, your voice still thick with sleep. He leaned back a little, tilting his head to the side as if showing you something just out of view. 

“Angel,” he said in that teasing tone that made your heart skip. “What do you think?” Your eyes widened, taking in the sight of a fresh, small tattoo on his skin—a delicate pair of angel wings, thin and simple, just barely etched into his tanned skin. You blinked, disbelief flooding you. 

“Are you fucking nuts?!” you shouted with a grin so wide you couldn’t suppress it. Jude’s smirk only deepened, clearly enjoying your reaction. 

“Nah,” he said casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Just want you with me all the time.”

“Oh my god…” All you could manage was  breathless shock. He laughed softly, shaking his head. 

“If we break up, I’ll just have a nice little reminder of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” He teased and you rolled your eyes at his poor joke breaking you out of your state of disbelief.  You laughed, your heart racing, a mix of emotions flooding you. 

“You’re joking, right? It’s not actually real?” You questioned his authenticity. Something about it felt so ludicrously insane. 

“It is,” he said confidently, his grin unwavering. You blinked again, processing the weight of it.

“I love it,” you giggled, “I love you.” Your jaw left still slacked.

“Good. You’re stuck on me now, you know.” He chuckled, his voice softening, Your smile faded into something softer, more serious. 

“It’s not though, right? Like, you’re not serious?” You tried to circle back to if this was actually real or not. Jude raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to the camera. 

“Dead serious. It’s real, Angel. You’re with me, wherever I go now. Taking the pitch at Wembley with me now. You gonna watch your debut tonight?” He asked with a smirk. You stared at him, still in awe, the reality of what he had done settling in . You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or both. You were only able to nod with a smile.  As your FaceTime with Jude ticked by you started to gain a bit more of reality back, he tilted his head to show you the tattoo once over and your mind raced with a million questions. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this? When did you decide? Did you think it hurt?” You fired them off in quick succession, your voice full of excitement and disbelief. Jude chuckled at your barrage, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“I’ll answer all your questions, promise, but I really have to get going. Got to get ready for the match later.” His eyes softened as he added, “I just wanted to say good morning, tell you I love you, and… show you this.” He tapped the fresh tattoo with a small grin, almost shy about the whole thing. You couldn’t stop giggling, your heart swelling with every word. 

“Well... a good morning, an I love you too, and a… wow,” you said, still processing the image of those delicate angel wings etched into his skin. It felt surreal. You laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that bubbled up because you didn’t know what else to do with the rush of emotions you felt. 

“Jude, you’re fucking nuts!” you finally said, shaking your head in disbelief, your cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. He grinned, knowing you well enough to recognize that your laughter was a mix of awe and affection. 

“Yeah, well, you make me a little crazy, Angel.” As the call neared its end, you could feel that familiar ache, the distance between you two weighing heavier. But seeing those fine, simple angel wings—his way of keeping you close—made your heart ache in a different way. It wasn’t just sadness; it was love. Pure, brash, unapologetic love. Being apart stung, but knowing Jude had taken such a bold, permanent step to close that gap, to hold onto you even when you were miles away, was more than you ever expected. It was a gesture that meant the world.

“Alright, I’ll let you go,” you said, your voice softening. “But… Jude, seriously—thank you. It’s so sweet, and I… I love it. I love you.” you cooed gently. 

“I love you too, Angel,” he replied with a smile that lingered on your screen long after you hung up, leaving you sitting there, still giggling, still in awe of how deeply he loved you. After your call with Jude, you sat in stunned silence for a moment, processing everything. He really did it. He really got a tattoo—for you. Without thinking, you immediately FaceTimed Whitney, your heart still racing with excitement and disbelief. 

 “Whit, I need you to do me a favor.” As soon as her face popped up on the screen, you blurted out,

“What’s going on?” Whitney raised an eyebrow, sensing the urgency in your voice. 

“You cannot tell anyone. I swear to God, he got a tattoo… for me,” you said, your voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

“He what?!” Whitney shrieked, causing Teddy to let out a little annoyed yelp in the background. 

“Mama! No!” she groaned tiredly, clearly disturbed by the sudden outburst. Whitney let out a soft laugh and an apology to her little girl but her attention was fast back to you. 

“I swear,” you repeated, trying to calm your own voice.

“Jude? With a tattoo?” Whitney asked again, her voice laced with confusion as if trying to reconcile the mental image of Jude with ink. “Are you sure?”

“I swear, Whit,” you confirmed, nodding emphatically. “It’s for me…”

“Where?” she asked, now fully invested in the details. A smug smirk formed on your lips. 

“Right behind his perfect ear. You can’t really see it unless you’re looking for it—it’s faint, just these little angel wings.” You explained. Whitney leaned closer to her phone screen, almost as if she could see the tattoo through your words. 

“And you’re sure it’s there?” she asked, sounding doubtful, not because she didn’t believe you but just out of the pure shock that you were also just in. “I haven’t heard him talk about getting one.”

“Whitney,” you said seriously, leaning in as if to emphasize your point, “Listen to me. Look for it tonight, yeah?” You asked. She let out a breath, still trying to process everything.

“I mean… I’m still stuck on Jude with a tattoo. For you.” She laughed. 

“I know,” you agreed, still half in disbelief yourself. “I can’t tell if it was like… a stupid joke, or if he’s actually serious.” You told her with a stupid smile on your face. Whitney’s expression softened into a grin. 

“Honestly? I’m shocked but Jude’s kind of impulsive like that, isn’t he?” She shrugged, finally wrapping her head around the whole thing.  You nodded, but the thought of him actually getting permanent ink to remind him of you—of how much he cared—left you feeling a little overwhelmed. 

“I mean, we talked about tattoos before. It’s not like a huge* surprise he’d get something… Denise has some, Toby, I have some…” You tried to rationalize his decision or downplay it in your mind. 

“But you didn’t think he’d get one for you,” Whitney finished for you, her voice laced with teasing.

“Exactly,” you said, biting your lip with a mix of giddiness and uncertainty. “But it’s there, Whit. I saw it.” Whitney let out a laugh, still shaking her head.

“Well, I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for it when I see him.” She confidently smirked ready to do whatever job you were asking of her.

“Thanks,” you said with a soft laugh. “But seriously, don’t tell anyone. Not yet, at least.” Whitney’s smile changed into one more conspiratorial. 

“I won’t. But fuck, this is big. Jude Bellingham with a tattoo for his girl? That’s next-level.” She told you with mischief lighting behind her eyes. You giggled, the reality settling in deeper now. 

“Yeah… it kinda is.” You admitted. Whitney’s face twisted into a playful grin as she teased, 

“I mean, my fiancé doesn’t even have a tattoo for me or, you know, the child I birthed for him, but yeah, sure, good for you. Pussy’s bomb I guess ” she giggled, rolling her eyes in mock indignation. You couldn’t help but laugh along with her, shaking your head.

 “Okay, okay! I get it.” But as your laughter subsided, the familiar twinge of insecurity crept in, and you hesitated before speaking again.

“Whit…” you started, your voice dropping a little. “When you go to the game later, can you—” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Will you let me know if there are, like, girls there? Like old girls from Birmingham?” Your question hung in the air for a moment, and Whitney burst out laughing again, though her laughter soon softened into something more sympathetic. She pouted, her eyes softening as she saw the anxiety creeping into your expression.

“Wait, Y/N… come on. Hold up,” she said, shaking her head with a teasing grin. “You’re telling me this boy might have a tattoo for you, and you want me to check for other girls?” She mocked you in an exaggerated tone, mimicking your sheepishness. 

“I know! It’s ridiculous,” you admitted, still laughing but feeling a little shy about how transparent your insecurity was.You let out an embarrassed laugh, covering your face. 

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I’ll do both for you. I’ll look for the tattoo and check if any girls are hanging around.” Whitney gave you a softer smile, her teasing easing into reassurance.

“Thank you,” you sighed, grateful but still feeling a bit silly.

“But seriously, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Jude’s all about you, annggell.” Whitney gave you a playful glare, her tone light but firm as she sang the pet name

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶��

Next part - Chapter 19 - Judey xx

[blingblong55]

My Love, Mine all mine -Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Based on a request:

"Broken men know who to love, but not how to love. Broken women know how to love, but not who to love." This is so Simon related 🥺🥺

---- F!Reader, fluff ----

A/N: Because he isn't always some tough masked solider, he is a man with wounds and a life beyond the battle field

It wasn't a shared feeling, he knew that well. You and he had stayed up and talked about a future like you had a clue. He knew your issues, love isn't what you want at times, you miss it, want it, but sometimes just at times, you can't give in to it, in fear of something greater that you don't know about. The smoke of his cigarette gave his not-so-secret hiding spot away. "Better not ask for my jumper again, doll," he knew you were there, knew those steps all too well. You chuckle, "You have to be some superhero," you sit beside him. He shrugs, "Just a mere mortal," he smiles. Silence between you two, speaking the words lips fail to say.

Simon knew you he was meant to love you, but not ever meant to show it. And just as he was about to speak, you rested your head on his shoulder. Classic way to ask for his jumper because you once again forgot your own. "No, not this time, I'm sick today," he excuses. "What if I get sick?" you ask and he chuckles. "You can never get sick darling, remember New Year's Day last year?" 

It was cold, wind and snow surrounded you and he walked to you. The night died down rather quickly, lovers kissing inside as you walked in the snow. Thirteen years of knowing the other, he knew you too well, you want to avoid the romance, avoid the cliche and have something different, but not all can be unique. You know well, he knows too, you turn around, "Go back inside, Si, you'll get sick." He shakes his head. "What, you're telling me you won't take care of me, love?" He gets closer to you, a little pout as he gives you his puppy eyes. "Don't do that, Simon." He smirks. "Doing what, all I'm saying is, why not let me be here with you and just shit-talk all those people who might invite us to their baby showers?" You laugh. "I'm wearing blue," you comment he rolls his eyes. "No way you'll make me wear pink," he shakes his head. You ignore it, knowing a baby shower would come within nine to ten months from your friends. 

He knows you. He just doesn't know if he can ever love you. In this world, a man like him isn't guaranteed a happy ending. Maybe a cut to the throat, death in a dark place, bullets blazing as his body takes its last breaths, that is a guaranteed end. Nothing in this world belongs to him, not even the knife he carries. "I almost got sick," you recall. "Keyword is almost," he looks at the skyline. "So, what is new?" he looks over to you. "Same old story." It was mad, to know he can be the man who loves you unconditionally. You could stab him in the back a million times and a million times he would thank you for doing it. Love works in different ways, his love is dark and deep but real. You could break his heart, expose him to the world, turn him into his enemy, kill him over and over, and each time, he would say he loves you.

It's a dark and twisted fairy tale to love him, but it's love that no one can take from him. He can tell you he loves you over and over, but you would still ask him if it was true. You can kiss him, care for him, hug him in days or nights when he is the most vulnerable, burn the world and watch it fall apart for him, only to have him think it's all foolery. One hug, one kiss, and he would still question what love is. The meaning displayed in your eyes, the feeling displayed in his gaze but neither are too brilliant to take a step and claim what the poets oh so need to see. You are conflicted, getting your heart broken over and over by many lovers, asking and crying to the starry nights what is so wrong with you.

Do you love too much, do you care too much? What if it's you and not them? What then? Simon, the cold stare to the passers and the soft gaze to you. R/N, the confused lover with issues and questions that one man's lips hold the answers to. One New Year's Day, one whisper of a truthful 'I love you,' two hearts, one bed, tears and promises. What makes love is not what others perceive it as. Not for a soldier, not for a civilian who questions all her love. At dinner with friends, questions were asked of when either would settle down like the others did, not knowing the answer was right at that table. Simon and R/N, are two complicated hearts that beat for one reason. To live. But those two words can be more than just a basic meaning.

One stormy night, knock on the door and he opens, shirtless and with hope. "Hi," your hoarse voice is too soft. He opens his arms and you run to them. Antidote, what a soldier like him found in that night when he promised he would be more than just a soldier but a man who loves a woman. A woman who cries in his arms as she gets heartbroken again. Boyfriends, thinking they are better than a true woman who all she wants to do is love and care. Something a soldier like him looks for in the dark. "They don't know what they lost, dear," he kisses the top of your head as he holds you close to him. He is done trying to find reasons to not love you.

You are tired of not finding enough excuses to call him home. Your home. His home. An embrace of a man who all he wants to do is protect the last thing on this earth to love him. It was a shared feeling, you both know that well. It is believed that since the creation of our universe, our galaxy, the dust that made us, always tries to find a way back to its other half. And, as he holds you close, two hearts, under one roof, he finds home, and you find home too. It's not about what piece is broken but what is still there. It's not about love or who or how to love.

Sometimes, love is not just a kiss, sex and a caress. Love is sometimes about waking up late morning, hair all messy, bodies tangled with the sheets and a burst of lazy laughter as you realise your lipstick is all over his face. Love is respect, honesty, trust, happiness, fun, and him, holding you near as he watches you cry over something small. Love is about being imperfect, flawed, broken and having the one you care for sit down, love you a little extra that day and watch as you fix yourself with his hand holding yours. 

Tags:

@ghostslillady @queen-ilmaree @jnsmeyv @madamemelancholysstuff @kit-kats06 @ghostslittlegf @trulyunknownone @rogerfxckingtaylor @cripitique @sinners-sins

[weirdsht]

Hihihi hello!!! Hope ur doing well 🫶🏻

Cale n the co with someone who likes to give quick, gentle kisses? It can be platonic as well (sorry i kiss everything i like)—the kids, rosalyn, cage, hannah, their pillows, n many more. Like imagine kissing the kids' foreheads more than just few seconds and so sweetly bc they love their adorable little faces with big doe eyes so much-- I'm gonna cry so bad bro. I live for happiness w my unreal beloveds 🫂

Hershey’s - LoTCF & Gn! Reader

notes: I think 4+1 fics are becoming my go-to...

tags: gender neutral reader, sickfic at the end, fluff, kisses, platonic

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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When you first worked with Cale everyone was immediately introduced to your… peculiar habit.

Kiss!

[Name] kissed Cale’s hand as a greeting.

“It’ll be my pleasure to work with you young master.”

“Is this how you greet everyone?”

Cale asked but he didn’t look uncomfortable. Unlike when Clopeh compliments him. Because unlike that lunatic, the young master could feel the respect in that peck.

“When it seems appropriate. I’ll refrain from doing it if you are uncomfortable.”

Yup, [Name] is a hundred times better than Clopeh. They can’t even be compared.

“No, it’s fine. I was just curious.”

“As long as the young master doesn’t mind then.”

+~+~+~+~+~+

It was a rare day when everyone was taking a day off. No one was training or anything. They have all collectively decided to laze around.

“[Name] tells us a bedtime story!”

Raon demands as he and the kittens lie down on Cale’s bed. The owner was rolling around the marble floors somewhere else.

“But it’s still midday? Why would you want a bedtime story now?”

[Name] tilts their head in confusion at the kid’s demand.

“Cale told us that anytime is a good time to sleep nya!”

Hong reasoned as he tapped his paw on the bed for emphasis.

“Fair enough. I’ll get a fairy tale book then.”

Two stories in and the children already looked drowsy. All of them are ready to take a nap. [Name] closed the book they were reading and leaned down to kiss each of the children’s foreheads.

“Sleep well, kids.”

After that, they demand [name] to tell them a bedtime story every night.

…it certainly wasn’t because the kiss felt nice.

…not at all.

+~+~+~+~+~+

“Thanks for training with me Choi Han!”

[Name] thanked the swordmaster. Only the two of them are in the plaza. Everyone else had already finished for the day but [name] asked Choi Han for extra training.

“No problem.”

Choi Han replies as he hands his friend a bottle of water to drink.

Together they sat in silence. Only the sound of the water being drank and the towel wiping their sweat could be heard.

“Come one, let’s go. We have to shower before Beacrox kicks our asses.”

[Name] chuckled as they offered their hand for Choi Han to grab. The black-haired man also laughs as he imagines the chef’s angry face.

Once they reached the door to [name]’s room they got on their tiptoe.

Kiss!

Then kissed Choi Han’s cheeks.

“Thanks again, Choi Han! I’ll treat you to something nice next time!”

With that, they enter their room leaving the poor man outside with a very red face.

“First time?”

Rosalyn laughs as she passes by the swordmaster.

Choi Han knows that it’s just the way [name] shows affection.

But still, he can’t help but feel embarrassed.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Sniff. Sniff.

On sniffed as she held back her tears. 

Why the tears one might ask?

She accidentally scraped her knee while running around in the Forest of Darkness. The sting from the wound hurts so bad that it makes her tear up.

“Oh no baby come here. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[Name] picks the silver kitten up so they can clean the wound. Once they entered the room On was placed on the bed so they could get the first aid kit.

In no time, the kitten’s knee is all bandaged up.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No. Thank you [name].”

[Name] smiled brightly as they received On’s gratitude. They then leaned down and kissed the silver kitten’s bandaged knee.

“To make it heal faster.”

“Then… every time one of us gets hurt we can go to you to kiss it all better?”

On paws [name]’s face. They are now on their way back to meet up with everyone.

“Of course! But that right is exclusive for children. The grown-ups can handle themself.”

[Name] winks at On and both of them giggle as they walk.

Deep inside, On thinks she shouldn’t tell the rest of the kids about this privilege.

She feels like they would deliberately hurt themselves just to get a kiss.

+~+~+~+~+~+

[Name] was sick with a fever. They have been delirious and fading in and out of consciousness for 2 days now.

There’s not much they remember but they did retain the memory of a bunch of people kissing them.

Kiss!

“Get well soon.”

Rosalyn kissed the crown of their head as she wished them well.

Kiss!

“It’s hard seeing my sparring partner sick like this. Get better soon so we can spar.”

Choi Han kissed their hand with a promise of spar.

Kiss!

“I know you said it’s exclusive for children but maybe it’ll work on you too.”

On pats their head as she kissed their forehead.

Kiss!

“Get well soon [Name]! Because you're sick I’ll read you a bedtime story instead!”

Raon kissed their cheek before he started reading a children’s storybook.

…[name] genuinely doesn’t know anymore if their red face is from their fever or their kisses.