#only a handful of you play the game but more than a handful of you know about it so like. surely there's something right

[lilliankoo]

play you like a game, boy.

antagonist jungkook x princess reader

1/8🗡️ satin ribbon.

pairing: antagonist! tribe leader jungkook x princess reader.

trope: "he's mean to everyone but worships the ground you walk on", will absolutely do anything for you, strangers to lovers.

chapter 2 link

synopsis: he looks like an angel but is a devil- well that's what your kingdom thinks. he is also the blessed leader of tribe "lav"; even a leaf cannot move without his permission but here he was in-front of you on his knees. while the whole tribe bows to him- he only bows to you. now, there are two paths presented to you- marry him & return his love or refuse & watch him conquer your father's kingdom. power is an evil yet a tempting apple-and now its in your hands- are you going to take a bite; taste the sweet poison or will you use it to tempt others? its an evil world with evil options.. do you think you can handle him?

warnings: tbd, different for every chapter. overall, smut, age gap (jk is 25 and y/n is 23), blood, rituals!!! (not too bad but still) threats, power dynamics, use of power, tribes, tribe rituals (i made them up :p), weapons, lovesick puppy heart eyed insanely in love jk, possessive jk, slightly controlling jk (not too bad), him spoiling his princess aka you, will add more as series progress.

—————

While humming one of the lullabies she used to sing to you as a child, your mother finishes tying the pink ribbon in your hair. She reaches for the brush on the dresser and runs it through your hair one last time. She gazes at you, more like your reflection in the mirror, before placing her brush-clad hand on your shoulder. As you stare at her, your brows are furrowed, and your lips are pursed.

Your mother makes eye contact and adds, "You dread me now, but trust me, you’ll thank me later." "How can you treat your own daughter like this?" you ask her, grief heavy in your voice. Yet, for some reason, you've given up fighting. You’ve made the choice not to yell or cry about your mother's heartless decision.

Being the only daughter of the King of Mir Konvo, you truly have no other choice. Yesterday, you learned that you are being "offered" to Jeon Jungkook, the head of the Forest Tribe, who is more powerful than your father's entire empire and known as the most formidable man alive.

The Lav Forest completely encloses your kingdom of Mir Konvo. While Jeon Jungkook rules the entire Lav Forest, your father reigns over Mir Konvo, which is also known as the "heart of Lav" since it's nestled right in the middle of the forest. For hundreds of years, your kingdom and Jeon’s forest were tied by a pact—an agreement that allowed your people to use the forest trail to conduct trade with other kingdoms, with no involvement from the Jeon tribe. In exchange, the Jeon tribe requested only grains and gold as payment. This arrangement has held for years, but Jeon Jungkook, the current head of the tribe, has shattered it. He now demands your hand in marriage. If you refuse, he will seal all pathways leading to Mir Konvo, seize control of your kingdom, and assassinate your father.

The entire country is aware of the Lav Forest's goddess blessing on the Jeon tribe. Centuries ago, when an enemy tribe destroyed Lav, the Devti goddess blessed the last surviving members of the Jeon tribe, declaring that no man would ever be able to defeat or oppose them. Naturally, your father signed the treaty and began the "preparations" for your marriage out of fear.

Now, back to your question: Your mother sighs and stands before you. She holds your shoulders and whispers quietly, "Listen to me, and listen very carefully. No man can resist a woman in this world. There is a reason someone as powerful as him would want to marry you. Take advantage of this, dominate him, break him, and make it impossible for him to live without you." The venom in her words is palpable. Her jaw is clenched, and her hands are digging into your shoulders. You understand exactly what she means. You pay close attention to her words, thinking about them over and over. Looking at your frightened expression, your mother asks, "Do you understand?" You take a cautious breath and nod hesitantly in agreement.

————————————————————————

The entire palace is adorned with white flowers. The orchestra plays a light tune—the atmosphere is serene, yet tense. Everyone displays their fake contentment, but in reality, everyone is scared—even you. Your father stands near the window, looking outside. His crown is absent, and his royal mantle no longer hangs on his shoulders. From his disheveled hair to the dark circles under his eyes, it’s clear he is distressed. You walk over and stand by his side.

"What’s on your mind, Father?" you ask.

Your father sighs deeply and looks at you. "He is an evil man. Your mother is not seeing this—"

His words are abruptly cut off by your mother's voice. "I’m doing this for the safety of the kingdom! No man can defeat him. You’ll die if you stand against him!" she shouts at your father. "You’re not seeing this through my eyes. Nothing will happen to Y/N," your mother adds, maintaining eye contact with him. You stand there, confused, watching the encounter unfold between them. Your father drops his head and nods at your mother. He doesn’t speak but looks at you.

The moment is interrupted when a soldier runs in to inform your father that it’s time to leave. Another condition Jungkook proposed was that the marriage would take place in the forest lav, with only three people allowed to attend—your father, your mother, and you.

That's how you find yourself in a carriage with your parents. Your mother is impeccably dressed, while your father dresses modestly. The commute to the Lav Forest isn’t long, and within three hours, your carriage reaches the entrance gate of Lav village. You step out, and your mother quickly helps you adjust your skirts and dresses.

There’s no man in sight to receive your family. Your father scans the area, searching for any members of the Jeon tribe, but he sees no one. The atmosphere is unnervingly quiet and serene. The leaves rustle, and the wind lightly breezes through the air.

"The carriage stays here. Come," a sudden voice calls from behind you. You turn to see a man, no older than 25, dressed in leather and furs, with a spear in his left hand and long hair reaching his back. He is incredibly handsome—you can’t deny it. He looks at you, then motions for your father to follow him. You and your parents follow him into the village. The path is smooth and clear, as if it were purposefully prepared for your comfort.

After ten minutes of walking, huts and houses begin to appear. You can see people peeking at your family through their windows—some whispering, others cryptically smiling in your direction. In the distance, you see a platform surrounded by a crowd. The stage-like platform is only a few feet higher than the ground and has two chairs at its center. Some people stand on it, engaged in serious conversations, while others laugh.

You and your parents stand a few feet away, waiting for instructions. You intertwine your hand with your father’s and squeeze it.

Suddenly, the voices of people laughing and talking around you halt- everyone around you kneels, including your parents. Thats when you see the leader, your future husband, jungkook walking towards you. Out of instinct and fear, you bend your knees to bow as well. But then, someone grabs both your shoulders, forcing you to stand upright. You look up in confusion and meet his eyes. The anger is gone, replaced by something softer—love and affection. Without warning, Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and bows. The entire village was bowing to him while he remains on his knees for you.

your just about to speak when Jungkook speaks up: "The first time I saw you, I was entranced. Seeing you made me lose sleep, and I chanted your name like a prayer. You are educated, beautiful, and I knew your father would never marry you to someone like me, i did not have any other choice, don’t hate me for this, I’m just a man in love."

Your breath hitches because you don’t know what to do. Having a powerful man like Jungkook on his knees in front of you, confessing his love, is overwhelming. Your hands shake as you reach for his shoulders, gently guiding him to his feet. Jungkook rises to his full height, towering over you.

He cradles your jaw affectionately in both hands and kisses your forehead. You’re confused and scared—confused because he isn’t as terrifying as he’s made out to be, and scared because he’s too close. You avoid his gaze and look around. Everyone is still kneeling, and you feel uncomfortable. You glance at him, then at the others still bowing. Surprisingly, he understands.

"Everyone, stand up!" he commands, and the crowd quickly rises to their feet.

He turns to you and your parents, smiling. "Shall we begin the rituals?"

————————————————————————

NEXT: chapter 2

————————————————————————

💌: yalll haiiii, yes its me, yes i deleted this fic previously, yes im posting it again. yes.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel

You're here, that's the thing

You woke up the next day.

You were on the fancy velvet family couch you were never allowed on.

The couch was where every movie night, every game night, and every family hangout would happen.

The same ones you'd never be invited to.

You looked up to see Bruce and Miguel sitting in the pristine, white dining room arguing over something.

They lowkey looked like a divorced couple fighting over the ustody of their child.

You let out a giggle at that thought.

You got up and tried to stabilize yourself, still healing from the stab wound from yesterday.

You had a runny nose and a slight sore throat from the rain yesterday.

You hated your spidey luck sometimes.

As you got closer to Miguel and Bruce, you could make out some of their argument.

"She's staying with us, it's for the best," Bruce said, crossing his arms.

"Since when do you decide what's good for her?" Miguel argued, standing up from the seat he was sitting on.

"I am her father. I decide what's best for her," Bruce said, still keeping a straight face.

"you haven't been a father to her at all." Bruce flinched slightly at Miguel's words.

Miguel continued, "You were never her father. You were nothing but a sperm donor." Miguel put his hand on his hips, his bold red eyes piercing into Bruce's blue ones.

"When were you when she needed you? Where were you on her birthday? Where were you at her performances and concerts? You don't know anything about her." Miguel slammed the table in front of him, and Bruce's neutral facade faltered.

"I am still her father. we are blood." Bruce raised his voice.

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

Miguel and Bruce were now full-on arguing.

A full-on screaming match.

You decided to intervene, you just wanted to go home.

"What's going on?" They both couldn't hear you, and you saw Miguel about to flip the expensive dining room table.

You weren't against him breaking anything Bruce owned, but that table cost way more than Miguel could afford.

You ran up to him "Hold on a minute, please won't you listen?"

They both stopped to look at you.

Bruce spoke up "Are you doing better now, sweetie?" You cringed at the nickname he gave you.

"I'm fine. What's going on?"

There was a tense silence for a moment.

"C'mon, spit it out. I wanna go home." You put your hands on your hips, copying Miguel's stance

"You're going to stay with us," Bruce said, his piercing blue eyes glaring at Miguel.

"What?! You can't do that! Dad, tell him he can't do that!" you pulled on Miguel's sleeve like a tall child

Miguel looked and you and looked away guiltily.

"Dad? What's going on? Tell him he can't force me to stay!" You were tearing up.

You didn't want to stay.

You didn't want to be back where everything went wrong.

You didn't want to see everyone play happy family while you sat in a corner sobbing.

"I'm sorry, but you're 16 and can't legally stay with me. I'm so sorry, arañanita." you tried to suppress your tears, only for them to all spill out when he hugged you.

You felt like a child.

"This isn't fair." your lip slightly trembled.

Bruce put a hand on your shoulder which made you flinch and push his hand away.

"Don't touch me." you shrunk into Miguel's arm more.

You hated being here. You just wanted to go home.

"Can't we agree on something else? Like maybe one week each person, or something?" you tried to reason

Bruce raised an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

"I mean like, one week with with Miggy and another with you. Wouldn't that be easier?"

Miguel was about to agree with you when Bruce interrupted "No."

"Why not? Everyone would be happy!" You tried to reason

"Because I'm your father and that's final."

You rolled your eyes at that.

"What?! That's so not fair!"

"life isn't fair." Bruce started practically pushing Miguel out the door.

You started clinging onto Miguel by his leg, you didn't want him to leave.

It took your father and your brothers to separate you and Miguel.As soon as Miguel left, you

ignored your family's offerings to hang out with them.

You were in your room, still sulking about what happened.

You were texting your friends everything.

You heard a knock at the door and tried to ignore it.

You weren't in the mood to talk to any of them.

After a couple of minutes of knocking, Bruce got impatient and let himself in."Why didn't you open the door?"

"I didn't feel like getting up." You kept texting your friends, not even looking at him.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed. "Look, since you're already here, why not go out? We could go to that one, uh, museum you wanted to go to a while ago." You glared at him.

"I asked to go there years ago. My friends already took me there."

"Oh, is there any other place you'd like to go? or anything you'd like to do?"

"I want you to go away. I'm sick and you just pulled me away from my friends." You kept scrolling on your phone

Bruce sighed and left your room.

Next to annoy you was Dick.

You were in the kitchen trying to get a snack when you heard his agitating, grating voice.

"Hey, baby bird!" He was going to ruffle your hair, but you swiftly avoided it due to your spidey senses.

"Don't call me that." You continued to look for your favorite snack.

"Why not?" he playfully pouted

You started giving up hope on finding the snack, it wasn't anywhere! "Because I said so."

He saw you were struggling to find something. "What are you looking for?"

"Nunya." you crossed your arms and started looking in the fridge.

"look, if you're hungry, we can go to that one restaurant you wanted to go to! How does that sound?" he smiled.

"I asked for that years ago. I already went there with Miguel anyway." You walked away into your room not caring how dick was slightly frowning.

You were in your room fixing your belongings.

If you're going to be forced to live here up till you're 18, you might as well make everything look nice.

While you were organizing your closet, your spidey senses went off.

You turned around to see it was warning you about the door, and suddenly Jason barged in.

"Get ready, I'm gonna teach you how to ride a motorcycle."

"No thanks, Jess already taught me." You continued to fold the clothes

"Who's Jess?" Jason raised an eyebrow

"A friend. Look, can you just leave me alone? I want some alone time."

"I'm your older brother, you can't kick me out of your room." He crossed his arms.

"Except I can. Get out." You started pushing him out of your room, your strength surprising him.

Tim was in his room when he remembered about that one time you asked him if he could fix your computer.

You accidentally gave it a virus downloading Sims mods, and it was tweaking.

Tim was the most tech-savvy person you knew, so you asked him.

Unfortunately for you, he was working on a tiring case.

He was in a bad mood and half-asleep, so it wasn't a surprise when he yelled at you to go away.

Sure, it had been 2 years since then, but he still felt bad.

He made his way to your room, noticing how separated it was from the others.

When he got to your room and opened your door (you seriously need to get a lock) he saw you were face timing one of your friends and laughing.

He cleared his throat and your smile fell.

"I'll call you back later, bye Pavi!" you hung up and looked at Tim "What do you want?"

He smirked "Wow, so hostile. Do you still need me to fix your computer? I have time now.

"You rolled your eyes. "it's fine now, peni fixed it for me."

"Are you sure? I could probably add an upgrade or two, or maybe get you a new one?" He put his hand on his neck

"Yes I'm sure, you can leave now." You shooed him away with your hands and started calling Pavitr again.

Tim scoffed and walked away.

Last but not least, Damian.

He was always a headache.

Ever since you were younger, it's like he was out to get you.

He wouldn't ignore you or push you away like the others, instead, he would threaten and berate you.

No matter how much you tried, he'd always go out of his way to push you around.

You learned to stay out of his way.

You assumed he would still hate you, so you continued to avoid him.

It was surprising when he walked up to your room and demanded you to watch him train.

Not wanting to get stabbed by him, you begrudgingly agreed.

You were being escorted into the training room and saw a chance to practice your moves.

While he wasn't looking, you snuck away to practice your tricks.

It was the perfect place to do it as well, huge gymnastics area, rock climbing walls, and hurdles.

You were having the time of your life!

After around 10 minutes you noticed Damian looking for you, with Dick helping him.

You sighed and continued practicing.

Your way of swinging and moving was Heavily inspired by Gwen and Pavitr's, all the spider kids trained together so it wasn't much of a surprise.

After training for a couple more minutes, you noticed Dick and Damian had found you.

Dick was surprised you knew how to be that flexible and have a lot of movement and personality in your tricks.

As soon as you sat down to take a water break, Dick and Damian ran up to you.

"Where did you learn how to move like that? did you do gymnastics?" Dick sat down next to you, only for you to scoot away.

"No. I learned from Pavi." You took another sip of your water

"Was he the one who came to the manor last year? The punk?" He took a sip of his water

"No, that's Hobie." you got up and walked away, ignoring Dicks other questions.

Dick just sighed in defeat and watched as Damian ran after you.

Damian would not leave you alone.

The whole way to your room, he was complaining and berating you.You tried slamming your door in his face, but he fought back.

Suddenly you were trying to push him out of your room like the others and he pushed a bag of yours onto the floor.

After a couple of minutes of you both tumbling around, he finally left.

You let out a sigh of relief and went to pick up the bag.

Once you picked it up you noticed it felt a slight bit heavier, less empty.

You grabbed what was making it so heavy and noticed it was a watch.

The watch you needed to move universes.

Miguel must've snuck it in there while dropping you off.

You put it on, and right as you were about to go back to Miguel's universe, your spidey senses went off yet again.

You quickly turned off the watch and pretended you were playing on your phone again.

This time it was Alfred.

You assumed he was going to scold you for fighting Damian yet again.

You prepared yourself only to be met with something you didn't expect.

"The others are expecting your presence in the theater room."

Movie nights.

The same movie nights you longed to be a part of years ago.

This time, you didn't want to be part of it.

"No thanks, I'm busy." You continued to scroll on your phone.

"You must've misheard me. They're requiring your presence." Alfred walked away before you could argue.

You sighed and put on some slippers.

This was gonna be a long two years.

hi ik rhis chapter is sloppy and rushes BUT THIS TIME I ACTUALLY HAVE EN EXCUSE

i typed all od this at a wedding lmfao

yeah rheyre mareying the love of their life but im updating a fic so whos really winning

anyway

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!): @bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213 @sirenetheblogger @awawage @holybatflapexpert @vanessa-boo @ryuushou @whiskeygirl7 @seemeee3 @inojinieeee @oliviaewl @djpuppy-kittens @w31rd3rg1rl @br33zy-blizzardz @eyeless-kun @strangelymid @twismare @cat-lover-over-9000 @jaemindontberude @galaxypurplerose @paastaboi @senhoritaapple @whiskeygirl7 @chezze-its

[comatosebunny09]

serve & protect | sylus

— summary: you’ve stood dutifully by his side for years. seen him at his worst, not once letting that side of him deter you. can you blame him for craving more than your loyalty? — cw: royalty au, king sylus, femme reader, knight/bodyguard reader, mutual pining, marking, restraints, sexual tension, slow burn, sylus isn’t a normal king, this isn’t a medieval setting, there are cars and indoor plumbing ‘round here, reader has hair for the sake of plot — notes: a reimagining of something i wrote a few years ago. heavily inspired by final fantasy xv & the beast within (2024). tysm for reading! — now playing: tender strength - yu-peng chan, hoyo-mix

Willing His Majesty to behave and him actually doing so are two foreign points on a map. 

It’s kind of your fault, really. 

You almost don’t. Nearly preserve your aloofness, your decorum. But then you do let your formalities slip for the briefest second, and that’s what heralds this mess. 

A traitorous sigh slips past your lips, summoning the attention of your wintry-haired charge.

Warmth pours throughout your person, a prickly spike of embarrassment clotting your veins. You stiffen, staring at the dark, heavy curtains shielding the dining hall from the sun’s brilliant spill. Try to ignore how your skin tingles beneath the curious study of your king. How those scarlet eyes crinkle mirthfully, wittingly, and you know all too well no good will come from that look. 

He’s in a playful mood, isn’t he? And you’re about to serve as his court jester. 

“Are you alright, dear friend?” he intones, loud enough for only you to hear, ignoring the monotonous prattle of his guest across the table. 

His voice curls around your brain, seeping through the folds of it. You straighten, arms stiffly folded behind you, quietly clearing your throat to ward off the spell of dizziness threatening to take hold. Curse him for sounding so devastatingly hot. For being so terribly distracting, so unfairly handsome.

You murmur an apology, not once taking your eyes off the far wall to look at him. To do so would be dangerous. Get you into more trouble. You hope by ignoring him, he’ll leave you be, but—

Well, His Majesty is a stubborn man, and once he gets going, there’s no stopping him.

He fiddles with a fork on the dining table with long, skillful fingers. Smooths out the little wrinkles forming in the tablecloth, adjusting himself in his wing-backed seat into an uninterested slouch. “You’ve been awfully huffy today. Are you bored?” 

A little, you inwardly reply. You don’t care much for politics. For these fickle conversations of wealth, alliances, and nobility. You merely follow orders, keeping your opinions to yourself unless they’re explicitly requested. 

Being a knight proves to be much more entertaining than serving as a tactician or advisor. At least you can keep your hands and feet busy instead of rotting away at a desk, ripping out your hair and fretting over the intricacies of running an entire nation. 

You remain quiet, tuning out His Majesty’s attempts to get you to break character. 

But, as mentioned before, your king is a persistent man. 

He sighs, slipping further down in his chair. Props his temple on his knuckles, an ankle resting on the pocket of his knee whilst the free set of fingers drum on the chair’s arm. “I don’t blame you if you are. She’s not very entertaining, is she? Nor is she very bright.”

You snort despite yourself. Quickly remember your decorum, a scowl twisting up your lips. Your eyes shoot to your wayward king. “Majesty!” you admonish on a whispered yell.

A smirk pulls at his lips. He playfully narrows his eyes at you from behind the shelter of his hand. Has you right where he wants you, feeding into his childish games. Just like old times. 

Your staring contest, however, is short-lived when the sharp click of a teacup meeting its saucer echoes through the stilled dining hall.

“I’m sorry,” quips a voice doused in vitriol from the table’s other end, causing your attention to snap to its source. “Am I interrupting something?”

The Queen of Universum ingests the pair of you with sharp, mead-infused eyes, vexation tugging at her red-painted lips. Like two scolded children, you straighten, King Sylus sitting up in his seat with a brilliantly fake smile.

“Of course not. Please, continue with your monologuing,” he says with a theatrical flourish of his fingers. He would roll his eyes if he could; you just know it.

You disguise a laugh as a cough, piping up when the queen’s glare snaps to you. You try not to bristle beneath the weight she carries. Beneath the thin stretch of her lips. She doesn’t like you very much. Of course, you don’t care for her, either. 

She’s made it perfectly clear that she views you as a threat to her plans—marrying her daughter off to your king to forge an alliance between your countries, to spread her family’s reign. No room for love. She’s mentioned more than once that your familiarity with the king is inappropriate, a threat to his crown. How scandalous it would be for him to take you as his bride instead of someone with noble blood.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fingers curling into a fist at your back until your nails bite unforgivingly into your palm. 

Like you don’t already grapple with the notion every time he touches you or smiles a little too charmingly in your direction.

You’re not fit to be a contender for his heart; not fit to be a queen. 

Her eyes finally slip away from you, refocusing on the center of your musings. Your relief is short-lived as an impish smile rounds her lips. You swallow thickly, the queen’s body language boding danger.

“Is it truly necessary for your lapdog to be here? Her presence is spoiling my meal.”

You blink rapidly. Incredulously, mouth spilling open.

Lap—

Lapdog?

I’m sorry, what?

If you had hackles, they would raise. Instead, your nostrils flare, the tendons in your neck pulling, jaw set in a rigid line. An omniscient smirk cants the queen’s lips. She knows just how to creep beneath your skin, how to wrap her claws around your pride and pull it apart. 

How dare she compare you to a bloody dog! You’re loyal, yes. At His Majesty’s beck and call. His shield. Have been for years. But to be compared to an animal, of all things—

He feels the malice sloughing off your skin in waves. Eyes you warily in his peripheral before raising a hand to quell your silent rage.

“Down, girl,” he teases, and you glower at him. 

It seems he also wants to play along with these dog jokes.

Leaning forward, your king perches his elbows on the dining table. Twines his fingers together, resting his chin atop his knuckles, a deceptively sweet smile boasting his teeth. Having known him for as long as you have, you can easily sense the irritation pouring over the tense set of his muscles. The stiffness between his shoulder blades, peering through the tailored pleat of his jacket.

“My Lady,” he begins, words bathed in silk. “I’m not sure how you treat your subjects in Universum, and frankly, I do not care. But here, we address our people with dignity and respect regardless of race, color, status, or creed.”

The queen’s expression morphs into one of mortification. She straightens in her seat, a steady creep of redness inhabiting her cheeks as she studies the doily texture of the tablecloth. You resist an urge to cheer.

“While you are my guest, you are expected to behave with poise and grace. And I would greatly appreciate it if you did not disrespect my friend here like that again.” 

Scarlet eyes briefly flit to you, shining with a spark of fondness—a tenderness that sets your body alight with heat—before returning to the queen. 

“Or anyone in my kingdom, for that matter. Understood?” His Majesty concludes with a raised brow, sparing no room for argument.

Pride swells in your chest, warm like the soft embrace of a fur shawl on a wintry day. He’s shut her up in his own way. Read her to filth with the poise and regality of a man of his stature, and you’re envious of his composure. They don’t call him a king for nothing. 

You straighten at his side, mouth twitching with the threat of an arrogant smile, and your chin lifts slightly. Defiantly. 

She studies her lap, pulling at her fingernails. You watch a kaleidoscope of emotions stroll across her face before a nervous titter falls from her lips. 

“My apologies, Your Majesty. That was very inappropriate of me.” Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips while she sweeps a chocolate ringlet of hair behind her ear. “I was only hoping that the two of us could have a little…chat.” She looks at you, a note of caution stirring beneath her lashes. “Alone.”

Sylus sits back with a scoff as if he’s just as confused by her request as you are. It’s rare you leave his side. Rare you’re not in his shadow, head on a swivel, fingers wrapped about your sword. You’re even present when he’s sunk beneath the murky pull of sleep. 

“Does her being here pose some sort of threat to you?” he interrogates around a smirk.

“Not so much a threat as it is a distraction.”

A distraction to whom, you wonder. It’s a ridiculous request. You’re his bodyguard, for the Gods’ sake. You wouldn’t put it past her to make an attempt on his life in your absence. Forgo the pleasantries and proposal for marriage and end his lineage here and now. Not that she could.

Your mouth works around a protest, yet it dies in your throat when your king calls your name after some time spent deliberating. He peers at you from his shoulder, and you snap to attention.

“Sorry, dear friend,” he says, tone sloping with repentance. “Would you mind giving us some space for a little while? I fear your presence is making our guest uncomfortable.”

You cast him a pensive look. Lips tremble and part. His expression softens, and he winks at you, turning up the dial of his charm. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Of course, he will. His Majesty is more than capable of handling himself. Sometimes, you wonder what purpose you serve. He’s a hulk of a man, brimming with untapped power and bleeding intimidation. Most days, you feel you’re by his side to create the illusion of protection. 

Remembering your place, you step back and excuse yourself with a curt bow. You caution one last look at your charge before pivoting, briskly making for the door, ignoring the thunderous drum of your pulse in your ears.

You feel his eyes track your every move as your boots click soundly against the glittering, marbled floor. Feel the queen’s gaze drilling into your back, exuding a quieted smugness as if she’s won your silent war of wills. 

As the solid, ornate doors of the dining hall draw closed behind you, you catch wind of their conversation over your shoulder, and your heart plummets to your feet. 

“So,” begins the queen, voice steeping low. “I hear you are in need of a bride.”

—

You’re a mess of grit teeth and unease on the doors’ other side.

You’ve paced back and forth for what feels like an eternity, warring with your emotions. You’re not sure what has you more on edge: having been made to look like a fool in front of your king, or the implications of that statement when you departed from the dining room. 

“I hear you are in need of a bride.”

The conversation was inevitable. Doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

It’s the entire reason Universum’s queen has frequented your kingdom so much. Trying to set him up with her daughter, the princess, under the guise of uniting your people. You both know she’s greedy for power following her husband’s untimely demise, and His Majesty is teeming with it. 

You scoff, stopping your march to lean against the double doors, arms crossed over your chest. With a shuddering breath out, your face turned skyward, and your eyes shuttered closed, you try to compose yourself. 

If you keep huffing and puffing about like this, you might convince yourself that you care for your king more than you should. More than you’re allowed to. 

When you’ve begun to settle your nerves, the chorus of boots striking the carpeted floor piques your interest. 

You open an eye as dark figures of varying heights and sizes ease into frame, moving past you, carrying laughter and camaraderie with them. Crownsguardsmen. 

They regard you with quick bows and wary smiles, their banter lulling to a dull murmur in the face of their superior. You acknowledge them casually, still propped against the oakwood doors, not at all in the mood for formalities. 

Amid the gaggle of guards, a set of curious sienna eyes alight on you, widening with recognition before crinkling with glee. 

The smaller guard shoves through her comrades, briskly approaching you as her teammates walk out of sight. You study the top of her sleek, brown hair before she stops before you. And you stiffen, stammering as she snatches up your hands, her excitement palpable. 

Tara. You recognize her as a new recruit with youthful eyes and enough enthusiasm to power the entire Citadel. 

She reminded you of yourself when you first joined the king’s army. A young woman with a target on her back because of her gender and status. She possessed exceptional prowess with an array of weapons and vast knowledge of the kingdom’s technology. Yet, she was constantly beleaguered by her comrades and, oftentimes, her trainers.

You threw around your brass a little, ensuring she was treated as fairly as her male counterparts whilst she trained as a knight. Sometimes sparred or studied with her on your rare occasions of downtime. You were there to congratulate her when she’d been appointed a member of His Majesty’s royal guard.

With King Sylus on the throne, the Crownsguard became more progressive, opening its doors to anyone willing to lay their life down for him. Too bad a bunch of egotistical, chauvinistic airheads still occupied his ranks. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am!” Tara sing-songs, overflowing with zeal. 

You wince at the pitch of her voice, the brilliance of her smile. But you find her infectious, a soft chuckle ducking through your lips. You unwind one of your hands from her grasp, ruffling her hair affectionately. Had she been anyone else, you would’ve reprimanded her for forgoing the proper customs and courtesies. 

But are you really in any position to lecture anyone about etiquette right now?

“Good afternoon, Tara.” You’re surprised by the mildness of your voice. The fondness of it.

If she had a tail, it would surely be wagging. Your innards color with warmth at the thought. You’ve found someone else you want to protect almost as much as your king.

“How are you today, ma’am?” she asks, dispelling the nebula of your thoughts. 

Averting your gaze, you sigh, recalling what’s got you so out of sorts in the first place. You cross your arms, your spine reacquainting itself with the intricate carvings of one of the dining room’s doors with a muted thunk. “I’ve had better days.”

Tara’s expression pulls into one of curiosity. “Something the matter?” 

She steps closer, bursting your figurative bubble. With her hands clasped behind her back, Tara scrutinizes you, ducking this way and that, giving you a visual inspection. 

“Come to think of it, isn’t His Majesty having brunch with the Queen of Universum right now?” She pensively taps her lip with her index finger, eyes narrowing in thought. “Behind you?”

You flinch, watching her from down your nose. She’s eerily perceptive for someone so young. Invasive, pummeling you with a hundred questions a minute. 

“That’s strange. Aren’t you normally by his side? Did something happen? Did you get into trouble?” Tara goads, nudging you with her elbow.

You scoff, pushing off the door. For all the years you’ve known your king, you’ve never been in trouble with him. Garnered the ire of his advisor once or twice, sure. Pissed off his royal entourage with your sharp tongue, maybe. But you don’t think Sylus harbors a malicious bone in his body for you. You don’t think he ever could.

You cross the hall, perching your hands on an adjacent windowsill. The marble texture is cold beneath your palms. Grounding. You study the mixture of historical and modern architecture lining the horizon, a scene reminiscent of a dragon’s maw. 

The land of Insomnia brims with life beyond The Citadel’s walls, a nation once war-torn slowly rebuilding itself under the guidance of your genial king.

“No, I’m not in trouble.” You turn, sitting on the ledge. Your voice descends as if you’re having a conversation with yourself. “But not everyone seems to like the idea of me at the king’s side.”

Tara moves towards you with a placating smile, taking up one of your hands and squeezing it. “The queen doesn’t like you very much, does she?” 

Your silence serves as her answer. 

The smaller woman pats your hand, thumb smoothing over the rough patch of skin stretched over the clutch of it. “Well, I could’ve told you that.”

You cut your eyes at her in warning. What’s with everyone testing your patience today? Picking on you?

“You’re competition,” Tara matter of factly adds, maneuvering to lean against the windowsill beside you. 

You study the weathered tips of your boots before your gaze slowly rises to Tara. Her eyes gloss over with tenderness. With pity as a slow creep of heat inhabits the pit of your stomach. You avert your gaze, boring into the dining hall’s doors. 

You don’t have to ask what she means by that; you’ve heard the statement numerous times as of late. Your king’s recent treatment of you doesn’t help matters, exacerbating the rumor that you’re more than just his loyal subject.

As if sensing your internal plight, Tara decides to shift gears. You’re grateful for the reprieve, getting too hung up in your mind again. 

“So, do you really think the queen killed her husband?” she whispers, leaning in with a hand cupped around her mouth.

You chuckle. Leave it to Tara to fill the space with gossip. “I couldn’t say. But I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a bit of a bi—”

As if on cue, the grandiose doors of the dining room groan open, spilling the artificial light inside onto the carpeted floor. You and Tara snap to attention like two youths caught dawdling, stone-faced, the remnants of your conversation corked in your throats. 

How anticlimactic, you muse, watching several figures emerge from the room until your eyes alight on a familiar, riotous mop of white. 

Your breath thickens in your throat as scarlet eyes capture yours. The lips beneath them quirk before the towering silhouette they belong to, strides past you.

Tara’s hand brushes yours. You don’t have to look to know she’s giving you the most impish side-eye. 

The queen turns on her heel to face your king, her entourage scuttling about behind her. She’s half-hidden by the mass that is His Majesty, but beyond his bulk, you make out her red lips curving into a deceitful smile. Bile singes the back of your throat, your fists tightening at your sides. 

“It’s been a pleasure, Your Majesty.” She punctuates her words with a small curtsy and head tilt. 

His Majesty stuffs his hand in his pocket, his wispy hair sweeping over broad shoulders. Boredom lances through his deep timbre, and you imagine his eyes rolling with disinterest. “The pleasure was hardly mine.”

An indignant sound salts the air, dredged from the queen’s throat. You bite back a laugh, recalling what got you sent out in the first place. Tara flinches in your peripheral, tamping down a laugh herself. 

Ignoring your king’s waywardness, the queen squares her shoulders and straightens her spine, her head held high. She clears her throat, holding out her hand for your liege to take. When he does nothing, she waggles it expectantly, wordlessly demanding he kiss it.

You watch the scene unfold with bated breath, tight lips. Inwardly cheer when Sylus scoffs, turning away from his obstinate guest. He waves a tired hand over his shoulder, summoning two guards stationed by the hallway’s entrance.

“Please ensure the queen makes it back to her car. Safely or harmed, I don’t care,” he tacks on under his breath.

The guards acknowledge him with nods and move to flank the queen and her royal retinue. The woman huffs, indignantly stomping her foot like a child deprived of their favorite snack. She grabs the tail of her dress and brusquely spins before being led out, carrying her jilted air with her. 

You resist a smile. Pride spools heavy in your chest. It’s almost like your souls are linked; your king’s never cared for rude nobles and their politics, mirroring your sentiment. 

He conquers the space between you in three measured strides. Pilfers the air from your lungs as electricity and pheromones spark between you, and you’re drawn into the ruinous stir of his eyes. 

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Tara dismisses herself with a bow, but not before discreetly nudging you in her retreat. Sylus barely acknowledges her, busy memorizing every detail of your face. Every tight breath slipping through your parted lips, every feathery flutter of your lashes.

You rapidly blink as if remembering where you are, keenly aware that the pair of you are alone. 

The king’s proximity throws you off-kilter. The earthy scent and comforting warmth he exudes permeate the thickened layers of your uniform, wrapping around your heart, squeezing, leaving you raw and exposed. Your jaw ticks.

His expression slackens, brows knitting in the inner corners, and he coyly cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright, dear friend?” The texture of his voice is gritty as sandpaper, yet it’s disarming in a way that leaves you weak-kneed with a heavy tongue.

“H-huh?” comes your foolish reply. You would kick yourself for how lovestruck you sound. 

Your king chuckles, a genuine sound reserved for hushed moments like these, tucked away from the prying eyes of his court. Your lips twitch before a slender finger pokes the space between your eyes, dispelling the dreamlike fog that once loomed overhead.

“I asked,” poke, “if you,” poke, “are feeling,” poke, “alright? You look a bit flustered.”

You swat his hand like an enraged feline, to which he chuckles, all manner of refinement thrown to the wolves. He’s as bratty as ever, a reflection of that child you once knew who’d shove you off the hill to be king of it. Who knew he’d grow to take an entire kingdom onto his shoulders?

You clear the phlegm from your throat, taking a step back, haughtiness meddling with your features as his hand falls listlessly at his side.

“I’m fine, Majesty. Though I’d be better if someone learned to keep his hands to himself.”

The monarch in question feigns innocence, blinking owlishly, a dramatic hand splayed over his heart. “What? I thought you liked it when I badgered you like this. When I kept you on your toes.”

You scowl, crossing your arms and impatiently tapping your foot. “Not when it borders sexual harassment. Need I remind you of your briefings, sir? Should we revisit them?”

He sputters, mortification descending on his face. You bite back a snicker. He’s much too handsome like this—playful, boyish, unguarded. An affectionate smile crests over his mouth when you let a bewitchingly sweet laugh slip. He takes a step forward, swaddling you in prickly static, dwarfing you by a good foot. Your traitorous heart thumps something wild, threatening to leap from your chest as the mirth melts from your face.  

“Would you believe that woman came here to coerce me into taking her daughter’s hand?” rasps your king, voice descending into a secret. 

You swallow, staring between his eyes, unconsciously leaning back. You nod when words fail you. Bristle as a set of spindly fingers creep down your forearm in pursuit of your hand, scorching through the fibers of your coat.  

Your breath catches whilst His Majesty brings your hand to his lips, and he kisses it with as much fervor as he did in the gardens. It’s a simple gesture. An innocent one that feels perverse in a way, burning down to your core, the molten heat creeping back up to take residence in your neck and face.

“The only hand I wish to hold,” he smooths his thumb over the notches of your knuckles like a blind mind committing their texture to memory, “is this one.” Another brush of full lips makes you wince as if branded by hot iron. 

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Not with him so close, nor with the potency of his gaze drilling down to your soul. You wonder if he’s trying to kill you when he tugs you to him, a possessive hand falling to your hip. 

Whatever oxygen was left in your lungs abandons you in a sharp gasp, making way for a pleasant fuzziness and overwhelming heat. He snakes his arm around your waist before dipping you like the pair of you are waltzing, and your hand instinctively clasps around his shoulder to keep you from crumbling to the floor.  

Hooded eyes pan in, filling your vision with nothing but a beautiful wash of red. His stare centers in on your mouth, and he leans closer until your breaths intermingle, and your limbs feel like jelly, and you’re lightheaded, and…and—

You screw your eyes shut, pushing your palms against his catastrophically hard chest. He’s a dream forged by the Gods. Temptation sent to lure you astray.

“Majesty,” you gasp. You sound so incredibly pitiful, so breathless, and it makes you sick. “Majesty, please. You can’t—we can’t—” You twist your head, pillow-soft lips grazing your cheek instead of your mouth, pleasant tingles of sensation humming throughout your body.

“Can’t what?” he breathes, voice strained with the effort of containing himself whilst he roots his nose against the tender space behind your ear. He draws you closer against the hard press of his body whilst nosing along your jaw, ingesting the warm scent wafting off your skin.  

Your shoulder throbs beneath your uniform where two raw indentations reside. They’ve never truly healed after two years, the pain announcing itself in intimate quarters like this with your king. It’s a reminder of your anchor to him, to what truly lives beneath his skin. 

“The maids, the guards. What if—” You scramble for every excuse not to give in. Not to betray the oath you took to protect him. To always put him first, to never fall for him. “—what if someone sees us, Majesty?”

A bitten-off, barely there growl cleaves through your ramblings. Lithe fingers encase your jaw, coaxing you to look at your charge. A glacial thrill shoots through your body at the sight that greets you. White, mussed hair falls perfectly into his face, lips parted and glistening invitingly, eyes wrinkling with a mixture of anguish and yearning. He reminds you of something beastly, fighting to reign in his instincts. Fighting not to lose control. 

“You’ve known me for however long, yet you insist on calling me that.” 

He gathers your cheek into his pleasantly warm palm, angling your neck further back. You fight to keep your eyes open, your fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer. You’re spilling over the edge. Teetering over that blurry line between daydreams and reality. 

“Majesty this, Your Majesty that.” Scoff. “Is this your way of shutting me out? Pushing me away?”

You haven’t the gall to tell him yes, too distracted by the flats of his nails dragging along your cheek, sweeping errant hair strands behind your ear. You shudder, and he pans in, your mouths but a whisker’s width apart.  

“If you carry on like this, I may have to punish you for your insolence.”

You suck in a breath at the underlying threat in his voice. Know it carries no weight. He’d never lay a finger on you outside of affection. But how wonderful it sounds, to be punished for your insubordination. 

Your noses brush, mouths ghosting over each other whilst careful fingers curl around your nape, scrawling through your hair. You fear that you might faint, the heat spooling in your belly threatening to burn through layers of flesh. You’re clutching the lapels of his jacket for dear life now. Torturing yourself, wanting to conquer what little space remains between your mouths and—

Forbidden. The accursed word echoes in your mind like the weighted chime of a church bell. It resounds so miserably in your mind, reminding you of your place. Your duty. You’re no noblewoman. No contender for his heart. 

“Please don’t,” you utter between a laugh and a sob. Begging is unbecoming of you, but when it comes to protecting your king and his crown, you would fall to your knees if you had to.

A pained sound tears through His Majesty’s chest, crackling like a hearth fire. You feel terrible for denying him again. For pushing him away like you always do. But many women regularly throw themselves at his feet, willing to ease his affliction—women of noble blood, of virtue. 

Grief furrows his brows, his eyes sweeping over your face. A forlorn smile touches his lips. He exhales loudly, shakily, his thumb cruising over the outward arc of your brow, his gaze tracking the gentle movement. 

“Of everything that resides within these walls, within this kingdom, you manage to elude me the most.” 

His eyes snap to yours, and you shiver beneath the weight they boast. He could easily flex his power over you. Command you to stay still while he ravages you. But that’s never been his style, has it? Another trait of his drawing you deeper into his spell. 

“Why do you run from me? Why do you continue to deny me? Why continue to deny yourself? I hear how your body calls to me. Your heartbeat, your scent. So ripe. So untainted.” 

The exasperation in his voice makes your stomach lurch. 

I’m not denying anyone, you wish to say. I just…I don’t know. I don’t—

“Where in the hells is he?!” a familiar voice ricochets through the empty hallway—your saving grace. Seems his advisor is on a rampage again. You’ve never wanted to kiss the stoutly man more.

“Impeccable timing as always,” sighs your king, rolling his eyes. He reluctantly releases you, his hands at his waist until your legs remember they are meant to support you. 

Just as you spring apart, smoothing out the wrinkles of your uniform, your hair spills in warm tendrils down your neck, puddling around your shoulders, water-falling from its usual coif. 

You blink incredulously, taking note of the impish smirk canting the king’s lips. Something silver gleams in your periphery.

You watch with horror as he twirls your hairpin between dexterous fingers before bringing the warm, tarnished metal to his lips for a kiss. It’s an intimate sight. An image that makes a shiver wrack your spine, and you don’t know whether to be flattered or mortified. 

“Y-Your Majesty, give that back!”

The monarch in question chuckles something smoky, dangling the ornate pin out of reach when you swipe at it. He has an unfair advantage over you. You contemplate kicking him, figuring the risk of losing your foot is well worth it. 

Your breasts scrub against him as you struggle on tippy toes, clawing at your hairpin with the ferocity of a cat. And as your nipples knot beneath the rough glide of your uniform, you are reminded of the devastating press of His Majesty’s body. By the Gods, it’s too much. You’re sure your face is all types of flustered now, heat spuming beneath your skin.

“My, my. Throwing yourself at your king like this. How scandalous,” he purrs, enjoying your plight a little too much. His twisted way of getting revenge. 

“Your Majesty, that is my mother’s,” you pant, taking a step back with beseeching eyes. 

He clicks his tongue, studying the pin as if it houses all the secrets to your bloodline. “That makes the spoils of victory that much sweeter.”

You watch with puffed up cheeks as he tucks the hairpin into his breast pocket, the jaded metal gleaming condescendingly at you. 

“Consider it collateral.”

For what, you haven’t the foggiest. 

With all the smugness of the world, your king brushes past you, his hands in his pockets. You stomp behind him, fighting to keep stride with his longer ones, clawing at his pocket when a moment presents itself. 

You try to sweep your hair into some semblance of neatness before the pair of you meet his advisor. Before curious eyes can form questions where there should be none. 

You hardly miss the enamored smile rounding his lips as he peers at you over his shoulder. 

“You lunatic,” you curse beneath your breath, barely concealing the hint of fondness inhabiting your voice.

— 

It all makes sense as you shackle his neck with a rusted collar. You can count on one hand how often you’ve had to do this in the past year. 

You step back after sliding your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks. His eyes harbor a deep sadness despite the smirk on his face, baring a pointed canine. 

“What? No muzzle this time?”

You scoff, kneeling before him, defiantly peering into his eyes, a harsh forefinger pressed between his pectorals. “If you keep talking, I’ll have one of the twins fetch it from the car.”

He chuckles at your brazenness. Leave it to him to try to lighten the mood in an atmosphere rife with tension. Thick with urgency, with fear. He tests the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, ensuring they won’t give too much when they’re put to the test later.

As if on autopilot, you reach out to ease sweat-slicked hair from his forehead, and he pauses, those brilliantly devastating eyes drinking you in. 

He swallows, studying the ground. For the first time in a long time, you’ve seen true fear stain your king’s visage. 

“One day, I won’t leave this cage as the man you know and love.”

You scoff, masking your anxiety as you placatingly pat his thigh. You stand, swiping his coat on the way up, dust speckling its sleeves. You have to be strong. You’re slowly falling apart at the seams but must remain fearless. He needs all the strength you can lend him right now.

You give him a quick look, a brief upward pull of your lips, before turning away from your king, the cage’s heavy door squealing shut behind you. You err in your steps when he calls your name. Slightly tilt your chin over your shoulder.

“When that day comes, I expect you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

Your grip on his coat tightens, jaw set in a terse line. “That day will never come,” you murmur, more to yourself than him, and you hurry up the sand-laden stairs towards the structure’s entrance. 

The twins address you with curt nods as you pass them on your way to the car. Night and soaring evergreens stretch overhead like a yawning beast. The moon peers through the treetops, sluggishly cresting its way to the center of the sky.

You sling His Majesty’s coat across the backseat. Stiffen when a familiar glint of silver catches your sight from behind his breast pocket. You grit your teeth, leaning against the car door to grant yourself a moment of respite.

“How do you stand this? Does it ever get any easier?” you recall Tara asking, her eyes glossing over with a thin film of tears as she squeezed your hands. 

She was still fresh to this lifestyle. To this harrowing secret lurking beneath the kingdom. You couldn’t blame her for being scared witless. No one wanted to see the king in pain. Only a handful of people knew of his true nature. What bubbled beneath his skin. 

It never does, you think, pushing off from the car and slamming the door shut. 

Your boots crunch soundly over dead grass and splintered twigs as you make your way back to the twins. You squeeze Kieran’s shoulder reassuringly, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He nods, his somberness hidden beneath the gaudy beak of his mask. 

It never gets easier, hearing him scream like that. Bloodcurdling and raw, reminiscent of a demon clawing its way from the hells. Hearing him call to you in a voice so broken, you feel its talons sinking into your heart. You’ve just grown more skilled at hiding your pain. Holding back your tears.

What good are you if you can’t even protect your liege from himself?

— tags: @f1c-recs, @mt2sssss, @samoankpoper21, @lovemesomesaltysylus

prologue | masterlist

[kirbmey]

̩̩͙* ㅤ─────ㅤ 𝓟anties & 𝓒ream . . .

。 。 imagine dry humping with bigbother!caleb gone wrong [ 𝗍𝗐𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄 ] ♡ྀི

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝒓eblog ⠀& ⠀𝒇eedback .ᐣ

you spent the whole friday with your stepbrother caleb, he took you to the mall and bought every single item you landed your eyes on— something that slowly became a habit at the end of the week.

you’ve noticed how he seemed unsettled, anxious when driving back home, something about the way you smelt, the way you hair fell down your back and the way your skirt hugged your body tightly was hard to ignore for him. caleb was trying to be patient with you, let things take a natural course, but there was only so much he could take. he was a man with needs after all.

the way you’d lick sauce off your mouth with that wet and pinky tongue of yours, blushing when he stared at you too intensely, the way you’d ask him to help you choose between dresses, having to witness your naked body inside the changing room. he wanted to play it cool, normalize your sister—brother relationship but it seemed his dick had a mind of its own.

how was he supposed to keep his hands to himself if you sat on his lap when looking for a movie to wrap up such a perfect friday? squirming while trying to find a comfortable position on top of his muscular and long legs. he could feel the fabric of your damn panties against the sweats he put on when stepping inside the house— if he tried harder enough he could smell a faint scent of sweat coming from your skin due to the body heat he emanated.

caleb just couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t give you more time. he just had to place his feet flat on the ground while holding your hips, thrusting his own in a circling motion, the gasp escaping your plump lips another reason to keep going. your silky panties became wet and the friction was so much more smoother, grabbing your throat to push your back against his chest and pepper wet kisses all over your face, shushing you when questioning what he was doing— “ shh, pips, gege is just playing a little game cuz this movie is so boring. ” “ it’ll be a lot more fun, you trust me? ”

and of course you trust him :( letting your big brother manhandle you against the comfort of your bed, opening your legs wide to settle between them and take a look at the silky fabric, massaging your clit slowly. you were incredibly wet, but he needed it wetter. messier. his mind running foggy when the heat engulfing his balls became too much, having to take a second when his head started spinning.

he didn’t think about it and just took a bottle of cherry scented cream from your nightstand, pouring it over your stupid panties and his now free cock, moaning at the cold feeling. god, caleb knew he was even more sensitive than you, moaning louder than your vocal cords could allow you, starting to rut against your core with sloppy movements.

the softness of your unaware sighs pushed him to the edge, penetrating your pussy through the damp fabric, his glasses getting foggy and adding to the mush he had going on his fucked up head. — “ f-fuck, yes, yes… ” is all he could murmur, leaning over to spit in your droolly mouth and lick your parted lips :(

you (he) were like two puppies in heat who didn’t know how to get off, rutting against each other and spitting in your love—bitten lips, moaning harder against his when he turned you around, toying now with the hole you never dared to touch. — “ g-gege, nngh, not there ! ” “ shh, princess, take it . . . you’ll fucking love it. ” and so he fucked his cockhead into your ass, grabbing onto the fat of your hips.

hard, sloppy and wet.

it didn’t take long for both of you to come undone, his balls full of cum he had to hold on for the whole day, shooting warm white ropes against your back while your juices dripped all over the mattress, pooling underneath you, almost passing out against the soft and welcoming fluffy pillows.

you don’t even remember when caleb knelt behind you to lick your panties clean, spreading your pussy lips underneath the fabric with his thumbs as he fucked the cloth against you over and over with his tongue, not getting enough of the cherry taste. let’s say he edged himself over and over while you definitely passed out.

he waited long enough and now he would take you as long as he wanted . . . <3

[beigebeignett]

I do love angst but I'm also a sucker for happy endings and re-incarnation, so here's my take on what happens (decades/centuries) after:

The sphinx and her lover: reimagined

Imagine that the sphinx ends up dying, as all living creatures do, and ends up reincarnated as a very smart yet terrifying young scientist. 

Her passion in her fields equals her distaste for other people; especially men who try to undermine her knowledge and talent at dates. So, she sets up a strategy to determine who is worthy of her time.

If you want to get a date with me, solve my riddles, wrong answers will get you blocked. 

There, done, she thinks. If that doesn't make men stop bombarding her with messages, she doesn't know what will (well, she can think of a few others, but she'd rather not spend more time and energy than she's already spending on such a silly matter). 

And so, she starts getting less messages, with only some men and women being brave (or foolish) enough to try and chat with her. 

The ones that try to answer her riddles don't usually last long; getting the second or third wrong. Some don't even last the first one; those are usually the most bothersome, acting as if she has no right to choose her partner, as if she's being too ruthless (when she'd been honest since the beginning). 

Weeks pass before she gets another message. And so, she does as she always does. This time though, something's different. He keeps getting her riddles right, over, and over, and over. 

How curious, she thinks. How curious indeed, when he asks her if he could try asking her a riddle. She scoffs at her phone, partially amused, and agrees. 

She gets the answer right, of course, so he keeps asking riddle after riddle and she does the same, as if they were playing a game of pass the ball. The riddles get increasingly difficult, and the time those three dots stay floating on the chat grows longer as well; but she doesn't mind. She can wait a bit more for this one. Plus, while she waits, she can get lab reports done instead of worrying about finding new questions to ask that man. 

Sometimes days go by without her seeing any new riddles for him; sometimes a week passes before he gets asked another one. 

She must be busy, he thinks. He must have other things to do, she assumes. 

Between riddles, they start to talk about more mundane things: his job, her career, his essay on ancient Greek marriage practices; her paper on nuclear magnetic resonance in chemical engineering… He sends her pictures of his cat napping on top of his dictionaries and encyclopaedias, basking in the sun; and in turn she sends him pictures of boards filled with equations and pictures of filled excel tables.

Soon, they start chatting more, asking riddles occasionally when they’re both tired of talking about themselves. 

She learns that he’s an Archaeology major, and he finds out that she’s already getting her doctorate; something about chemical engineering, she explains. He’s fascinated by the topic, asking her a million questions about what it’s like, her doctorate subject, how did she choose her career path… And in turn she asks him about archaeology; why did he choose to spend his life studying the past, what is it that he enjoys the most about his field of work… 

They agree to meet up at the local library two days later. 

Almost a foot taller than him; that’s how tall she is. She’s waiting for him sitting near the entrance, browsing through architecture magazines when he finds her. He smiles and warmly waves at her, formally introducing himself, and extends his hand for her to shake; so she stands up as well to take it and introduce herself as well. That’s when they notice.

Even though he’s not short himself (considering the standards) at 5'9", at almost 7 feet tall she towers over him. Their aesthetics seem to clash a bit as well: his outfit is quite simple: some basic jeans and a nice cream wool jumper paired up with some sneakers, and hers consists of a pleated red skirt and a shirt paired with black knee-high boots to combat the cold. Out of the chat, and now face to face, their conversation flows easily; they exchange book recommendations, and of course they ask each other some riddles to pass the time. 

Overall, their first date goes well. Better than she expected, honestly, which is why when he asks her for a second date, she agrees.

To be continued...?

[venusalexian]

solet • let me do this for you

part 1

barça femení x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader

in which you finally let someone in, and Alexia accepts that she’ll be having a bigger role in your life than she first expected

Ale had driven you to the grounds this morning, as she tends to do now if she has a free day when you have a game. You were so excited for this game. Your grandpa had recuperated well from his surgery, even if he now needed some extra care, and Ale’s presence in your life had become a constant. You couldn’t believe this was your life now.

You went into the game eager to win, to score, to lead. By half time, you had scored once and provided an assist. You were on fire, but everything changed when you stepped into the tunnel and Ale was waiting for you, a worried frown in her face.

“Solet, I need you to stay calm while I tell you this, okay?.” She said. “Your neighbor called, they’ve had to take your grandma into the hospital because she fainted. They firmly believe she’s going to be okay. I will drive you to the hospital right now if that’s what you want.” You can’t believe she’s even doubting it. There is no way you’re making it back out into the pitch now.

“Please Ale, let’s go.” You rush to the locker room to get your things and run all the way to Ale’s car, impatient.

“It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” Ale says as she lays her free hand on your arm, the other on the steering wheel.

You really want to believe her, but you don’t really think she has the ability to fulfill this one. You don’t respond. You just lay your head against the window and let its coldness ground you to reality.

As soon as you get to the waiting room you make a beeline for your grandfather, who sits in a corner. He’s recuperated from his surgery, but he still can’t stand for long periods of time and needs help remembering to take his meds.  You break down as soon as you’re in his arms.

”Oh, mi niña, everything’s gonna be okay. She was awake when they got her into the ambulance. It was just a big scare, but she’s going to be okay.”

You nod against his chest but don’t detach from his hold. You won’t believe it until you see her with your own eyes and doctors confirm it, but you appreciate the comfort of his words. You turn a bit to look to your left. Ale is talking with your neighbor. She has her capitana face on. That relaxes you further.

You hate how unhelpful you’re being. You should be more composed, asking questions, making sure your grandpa is also okay, planning for any contingencies that might come from this incident. But you can only cling, and cry, like a child. So you’re happy to see that Ale has taken control of the situation, because at least somebody has. You’ve been trusting her with more of yourself and your life over the past months, and you’re so, so glad about it now. She looks over at you, and you know she understands what it means to you. The guilt of your impotence stays, but the pressure eases and you let yourself just fall.

Alexia is looking at you and seeing a kid. A strong, resilient kid. But a kid. So she takes charge, and she accepts that caring for you is coming more naturally to her every day. And as she waits with you for news about your grandma, she gradually also accepts the role she wants to play in your life. More than she’d let herself in the past, more than she’s ever said out loud.

“So… Why are the kids talking about you adopting another kid?” Marta approached Alexia with a massive smirk at the end of training.

“Yeah Ale, I thought you’d at least talk to me before you got a kid outside of this team.” Oh, Irene was having too much fun with this conversation.

“First of all, there is no another, I don’t have any kids, period.” A chorus of ‘hey’ and ‘rude’ was heard from the other side of the room, most notably (and loudest) by Vicky and Jana. Alexia just rolled her eyes. Apparently, the whole team was a part of the conversation now. “And secondly, I have not adopted a kid. I’m just… mentoring.”

“Mentoring? Is that what they call it now? Mentoring is driving a kid to and from practice?” Jana continued teasing her.

Alexia had gotten into the habit of driving you when she could especially to and from late night practices, thinking that it was much too late for you to be out taking public transportation.

“Or staying to watch those practices?” followed Sydney, who’s joking character was coming more and more out as she became more comfortable with the first team.

Now, Alexia knew how to perfectly justify this one.

“I am captain of this team, I have a duty to check in with the B team and source for talent.” she answered, feeling smug.

“Oh, and is having Sunday lunch with her and her family a form of recruitment?” added Vicky, who had become closer with the teen and had taken to chatting with her on occasion.

Alexia actually didn’t know how to respond to this one. She had taken your grandmother’s invitation a couple of time when you had Sunday morning games and she had a free weekend. She loved getting to know you more by spending time with you and your grandparents. And although she thought you pressured yourself too much, she saw herself reflected in your protectiveness, diligence and sense of responsibility toward your family and team.

“Better yet. Why did your girlfriend text me asking if I could give her more information about the kid because she wants to make a good impression when you bring her over for Sunday dinner at your mom’s this weekend?” added Ingrid.

Alexia muttered “traitor” as the locking room erupted in chaos. Everyone knows how much it means for their protective and family-oriented captain to introduce people to her family.

“Okay, enough. I care about her, yes. And she doesn’t have too many people on her corner, so I decided to become one.”

Everyone softened at that, understanding the importance and vulnerability of the statement.

“Now, no more social chit-chat about my life or you’re all running three times as much before practice.”

The soft expressions were replaced with groans, complaints and the occasional soft object thrown at her. Oh how she loves her fútbol family.

Your neighbor has had to leave; she has her own family to care for. So it’s just you, your grandpa, and Ale. Each sitting on a seat to your side. The doctor comes out after a half hour of waiting. The good news is that she’s okay, she’s awake, and there is nothing life-threatening. It feels like a toll has been lifted off your shoulders. But then he continues: it was a big fall, a symptom of an underlying heart condition. It means more medication and the possibility for this to happen again or other bad things. You feel dizzy again. You only hear bits and pieces of the rest: needs more monitorization, will need more constant care for a couple of weeks, she’s gonna stay overnight, you’ll be able to see her soon. You cling to the last part to stay in touch with reality.

Ale sees you drowning, so she asks, “Do you trust me to help, to take over now and help you through this? Let me do this for you?”

You nod. You need her to. You don’t even have any space in your worrying to overthink what this means or why she’s willing to do all this for you. You need her now, and the rest will come when everything’s more calm.

“I’m gonna make a few calls, okay? Can I tell a couple of people what is going on? The girls, mami and Olga are all worried. I won’t say much, just a quick update, okay?”

You nod again. You haven’t uttered a word since you got into Ale’s car. You can’t. So when she nods back, you hide your face in your grandpa’s chest again. You try to distract yourself with happier memories until you can see your grandma again. Thinking of her still hurts, so you focus on your team, your friends, and the people in Ale’s life you’ve met in the past weeks.

You felt dizzy from anticipation. You kept bouncing your leg in the passenger seat, and checking your outfit on the rear-view mirror. Ale noticed your fidgeting and laid her free hand on your shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” her eyes didn’t stray from the road but you noticed her half-grimace. Ale is not the best at not asking obvious questions, but you know it’s because she doesn’t know how to start the conversation otherwise.

“Yeah, I just…” you also grimaced, feeling like a little kid. “I want them to like me.” you mumbled, embarrassed.

“Oh, solet. They will. Mami is a natural caretaker, she’ll take you under her wing immediately. And Alba and Olga will just love having one more person to team up with against me.” Ale rolled her eyes, fondly.

She exudes a different type of softness when she talks about the women in her life, even when she fakes being annoyed at their antics. Her response calmed you, though.

Ale was absolutely right, of course.

As soon as you entered Ale’s home, her mom was giving you a massive hug and when she pulled away, she told you how beautiful you are and that she was really excited to meet you. You were blushing again. She hugged her daughter next, and then motioned for you both to go to the living room while she finished cooking. You offered to help, and you were rewarded with a wide smile and a pinch to your cheek. Ale got a quip that “she ought to keep her instead of her daughters if she keeps this helpfulness up”.

You’re still flushed when you reached the living room with Ale to find her sister and girlfriend sitting at the table in conversation. They stood up when you entered the room. Her sister moved to you, hugged you and introduced herself. You opened your mouth to do the same but she interrupted before you could utter a word.

“Oh, I know who you are. Ale won’t shut up about you.” You both turned to her, but she was too busy kissing her girlfriend to notice. Alba covered your eyes and shouted. “Women, not in front of the kid!”

You smiled as Alba moved away her hand and smiled back at you, all nerves forgotten by now, replaced by warmth. Ale and Olga were walking towards you both now, Ale’s hand on the small of her back. Olga hugged you, and her smile was just as warm and soft as Ale’s. 

“Yeah, Ale hasn’t shut up about you. We’re all really excited to meet her mini-me.” And there you were, blushing again. Had Ale really referred to you like that? Before you could ask, Ale’s mom called the four of you to finishing setting up as dinner was ready.

Conversation during dinner flowed. Ale was right, you had nothing to worry about and the night went perfectly. They all asked about you, eager to get to know you better. Alba and Olga did use your presence to rile Ale up. They shared embarrassing stories as she blushed and covered her face.

“I’ll lose my tough captain facade, stop.”

“You never had one to begin with, Ale”

By the time dinner ends, you couldn’t even believe you had been so nervous to meet them. Ale and Olga offered to drive you home. As you and Olga waited for Ale to finalize some arrangement with her mom, she put her arm around you, as the night had unexpectedly cooled and neither of you had come dressed for it. You basked in the comfort of her warmth and touch.

“I’m so glad Ale brough you over.” You looked up to the older woman, her smile exactly like Ale’s. “She is right, you know? You’re such a solet. I’m so glad you have each other.” Before you could respond, Ale was ushering you both inside the car and the motion of the road and the fullness from dinner lulled you to sleep. You miss their smile at your sleeping form, and their unspoken understanding of their care for you.

By the time Alexia finishes texting and calling, she has a plan. Alexia does well with plans, likes to prepare for things. But she has to talk to your grandparents first, and she doesn’t know how that conversation is going to go. Alexia is also quick on her feet, though, and works with what’s given. Knows how to fight for what she thinks is right.

It doesn't take long for a nurse to come by and lead the three of you to your grandma’s room. You cry again when you see she’s okay. You can’t cling to her like you did with your grandpa, so you’re content to sit by her side and hold her hand while she asks questions about the game, and you do your best to respond to her. Your words are stilted, but Ale and your grandpa smile because it’s the most you’ve spoken in hours.

After some more assurances, your grandma convinces you to go down to the cafeteria with your grandpa to have dinner. You’re hesitant to comply, but both her and Ale reassure you and don’t accept no for an answer. You give them one last glance to reassure yourself everything is okay befor eyou leave the room.

Alexia is nervous to be left alone with your grandma. She needs to start the conversation she knows is coming and despite the encouragement from her family, she isn’t sure to be ready for it. She doesn’t have to be, though, because your grandma beats her to it.

“She needs you.” There’s a heavy silence that follows; Alexia doesn’t know how to respond.

“She needs you because she’s a kid but doesn’t accept it. We both know that this incident means that both I and my husband need more help than she should be burdened by. She’s stretched thin enough, she already does too much. We want her to have fun, be a kid, a student, a footballer. Not a nurse, or a caretaker. She can’t do that if she’s constantly worried about us. And I know you know all this.”

Alexia stands seriously and silently and measures her words before speaking. She knows what’s next, but this is not her family, she doesn’t want to overstep. But if directly asked for her input, she’ll do it. She’ll take care of everything. For you. 

“I do, yeah.”

“We need that kind of help but it can’t come from her. So will you help? I’ve seen you grow closer to her, she admires you so much, relishes your attention and care. If we ask you for it, if she agrees, are you ready for this?”

Alexia doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

She can see the tension leave your grandma.

“Good. Now we can talk specifics. What’s your plan? Tell me and then we can tell her together.”

In the morning after you, Ale and your grandpa went home to sleep –Ale taking the couch even if you insisted on her taking the bed–, it’s Ale also who drives back to the hospital and brings your grandma home when she’s released. All four of you sit in the living room and when you try to fuss over your grandma, all three of them reassure you she’s okay.

“Mi vida, we have something to discuss.” Your grandma starts, and you squirm, uncomfortable at being out of loop.

“Alexia and us have a proposal for you, mi niña. We’ll do only what you want us to, but we think this is the best for all of us, and especially you.” You don’t respond to your grandpa, just nod, the anticipation driving you crazy. Your grandma takes over the conversation again.

“We love you so much, mi vida. We love how kind you are, how responsible, and how much you care for us. But your grandpa and I need more help, and we want you to not be burdened by it.” You’re about to protest –they’re not a burden, would never be, you love them and you’ll always care for them–but Ale stops you.

“Ssh, solet, listen to what we have to say first, okay?” You nod again instead of responding.

“So remember when I made a few calls yesterday at the hospital? I set up a couple of things. First, there is a home-care medical team that will be taking care of your grandparents from now on. They’re the best, but we still get to pick who’s going to be coming to stay with them for continued care. You’ll be part of that decision too.”

You exhale, thankful that Ale took over arranging this service. Deep down, you know that even if you would have tried your hardest, your grandparents need specialized care you wouldn’t be able to provide.

“And we also thought something else, but we’ll only do this if you want to and completely at your pace.” You become uneasy again at their own nervous expressions.

“Mi vida, we’ve thought that you spend so much time moving from here to the city, and it’s not benefitting you in your studies, or your football career, so Alexia kindly offered an arrangement that we think will work for all of us.”

“Solet, I’d like it if you moved in with me.” There is nothing but shock in your expression now. You have no idea how to respond, this being the last thing you expected from this conversation.

“We were thinking you could stay with me over the week, so you can go to a school that is more understanding of your football career, like many of your teammates, and be closer to the training grounds. You’ll come back to stay over weekends with your grandparents, so you’ll still see them a lot. And you can obvious tell me anytime you wanna be with them, and we’ll make it work so you never feel detached.”

You stop her nervous rambling with an obvious question, still in shock.

“You really want me to move in with you? Are you sure?”

Her smile is so, so soft again. Her eyes so kind, but also somewhat exasperated, she can’t believe you don’t understand how much she cares for you yet.

“Yes, solet. And before you ask. Yes, I’ve talked to Olga, she also thinks this is good. She’s in and out of the house these days because of work in Madrid so she thinks this is actually good for us both, apparently I don’t struck her as someone who lives well alone.” She rolls her eyes when she shares that part, but she’s still smiling.

“And, avis, you think this is best for all of us? Because I’ll still miss you a lot, but you’re right that I’ve been struggling these days.”–you finally admit–“And I guess if there’s a professional caring for you here and I can call you anytime and come often, then, I guess, it seems like a good solution to me too.”

All three of them smile widely at you, glad that you see the same things they do.

“Yes, mi niña, we do. And this is always your home, you can be here as much as you want to.”

“Okay” You say, and it feels definitive, the start of something.

—

an:

so here’s the second part of solet! it took me a bit longer than expected but I wanted to do a good job at setting everything up and it made it longer than i initially expected.

this is the end of setting up the arc, and stories from now on will be just instances of solet’s life :)

I already have some ideas drafted, but I’m super eager to get requests and asks about this world of what kind of things you’d like to see from solet’s life.

thank you for reading!

xoxo, a.c.

[blushsturns]

𝜗𝜚 can you get off from just matt sucking on your tits?

title: needy

warnings: f!receiving, m!receiving, grinding, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart, doll), fingering, handjob, titty play, degrading (if you squint), pure filth!

word count: 3866

There was something about being in Matt’s lap as you straddle his waist, your hips coming in contact with his hardened bulge against your hot core that drove you absolutely crazy. You don’t know what had gotten into you, but you were feeling extra needy tonight and after hours of waiting for Matt to finish streaming with Nick and Chris, you couldn’t wait any longer. You were so close to getting between his legs and sucking him off while he tries to focus on his game, but you knew better than that. You almost cried in relief when Matt finally turned off the stream and took off his headphones. You had caught him sneaking glances at you, without trying not to get too distracted from the game, and all you were doing is laying on your stomach on your shared bed with your shirt raised up and your pretty ass cheeks swallowed by 

Here you were now, perched onto Matt’s knee and rubbing yourself up against him in only one of his oversized tees and your lacy panties covering your already slick arousal. You could feel his hardened cock twitching immensely against your core through the fabric of his sweatpants.

Your breathing was becoming more rapid as the seconds passed, your heart was already beating straight out of your chest from the exhilaration running through you. 

Matt groaned as you continued to rut your hips against his hardened bulge and using it to your own pleasure and satisfaction. You couldn’t help it; you were so damn needy and needed him in all the ways he was willing to give you. 

Both of your eyes locked together in an intense gaze, his strong, larger hands placed against your hips to hold your body in place as you rolled your hips onto him causing both of your moans to mix together and echo throughout the four walls surrounding you. Your panties were damp already, leaving a wet spot on the front and seeping through onto Matt’s sweatpants. Neither of you cared; it was actually quite a turn on to see how turned on you get for him. 

“Fuck, you needy little thing.” Matt breathed out through labored pants, his hands moving up underneath your oversized tee shirt and running his fingers along your bare skin causing an immediate shudder to run down your spine at his touch. “You just couldn’t wait for me to finish streaming could you? You just had to act like a little slut, making it hard for me to concentrate on my game with you right behind me, looking gorgeous and sexy as fuck knowing damn well what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You whimpered at his words, rolling your hips against him and gasping softly at the friction between his hardened cock and your needy, dripping core. You nodded your head at his words, moving your arms to wrap them around his neck to pull him impossibly closer to your body. Your hand moved up into his hair, your fingers running throughout his tousled locks and gave them a gentle tug causing a groan to escape his lips. “I can’t help it, baby. Hearing you groan and cuss in frustration.. reminds me what you sound like when you’re pounding into me rough, and deep, just the way I like it.” Your words were filled with need, want, lust. You wanted him more than ever and you were getting needier and needier by the second.

He growled at your words which only seemed to turn you on even more and without saying another word, he pressed his lips against yours in a deep, passionate kiss causing you to gasp in surprise. He moved his hands to cup your jaw with a bit of force, his thumbs digging into your cheekbones as your eyes fluttered closed and immediately pressed your lips back onto his hungrily, a soft moan muffling against them.

Your fingers tug onto his hair to pull his head impossibly closer to you, your lips moving together in perfect unison. You could feel his cock continuing to pulse and twitch against your clothed core, your slick arousal practically dripping inside of your panties and against Matt’s thigh.

He moved one of his hands away from your jaw to your neck to wrap his fingers around it in a firm grip, causing you to gasp out against the kiss. Your lips moved together hungrily and the taste of his lips on yours only drove you more insane, making you want him even more. He traced his tongue along your bottom lip, begging for entrance which you gladly accepted and parted your lips to collide your tongue with his almost immediately. 

Your tongues moved together messily, battling for dominance before he began to suck on your tongue causing a slight moan to escape from your lips against his mouth as you rut your hips forward into his hardened crotch. 

Kissing Matt was like the first time every single time. He knew what to do, and how to do it. Your body was on fire, your heart was racing quick, and butterflies roamed in your tummy from the feeling of his lips on yours, and his tongue in your mouth. You could feel yourself growing more wet in your panties, and fuck it was driving you insane how much you needed him. 

He was the first one to pull away, both of you breathless and gasping for air. That didn’t stop him from pulling his hand away from your neck and moving both of his hands underneath your shirt, running his fingers up and down your bare sides as he began peppering kisses to your jawline and down to your neck and against your collarbone. 

The feeling of his lips against your skin made your body tingle all over and your heart to continue to race rapidly in your chest. Your head tilted back to give him more access to your neck, a soft whimper leaving your lips as his tongue traces against your collarbone and towards the base of your neck, leaving love bites behind for a story only the two of you will share. You loved being covered in love bites by Matt, it was a little reminder that you were his and no one else’s. Your fingers threaded through his tousled hair and tugged onto a fistful of his hair as he continued to suck, lick, and nibble against your skin. 

“Matt..Please.” You whimpered out desperately, pushing your hips forward into him and biting gently onto your own bottom lip which still had Matt’s taste lingering against it. Your slick arousal coated your panties and against his sweatpants. You swore you never been more turned on in your entire life, your body buzzing with electricity and exhilaration. 

His hands caressed your bare sides before gripping your hips tightly to push your body up against his even more. The pad of his thumbs pressed into your hip bones, moving slow, lazy circles against your skin and causing a drawn out moan to escape from your lips. “Such a needy girl, aren’t you, sweetheart? What do you need, hm?” His words were velvety smooth, filled with desire and need. He slowly lifted your shirt up over your head and allowing it to fall onto the ground, revealing your plump, pretty breasts to him. Your nipples were already hard, sending a cold sensation to brush against them and a shudder to run down your spine. 

You gasped softly as his fingers immediately traced over your hardened nipples, his thumb and index fingers tweaking the nubs between his fingers, causing a louder moan to escape your lips and an instant gush of wetness to pool in your panties. You fucking loved your nipples being played with, and Matt knew that.

Whether they were being played with, pinched, or sucked on, you fucking loved it and it turned you on immensely. Matt was aware, loving the way your head falls to your shoulder and your face full of bliss and pleasure, your lips parted with the sweetest little moans falling from them. It was like music to ears and he swore he could get off just from seeing you receive the pleasure he gives you. 

You roll your hips along his knee to grind against it, the friction of his knee rubbing against your soaking wet and needy pussy only causing you to moan out some audible sounds, sounding needier than ever. “Matt..” His name falling from your lips as you gasp softly when you feel him lean forward to begin flicking his warm tongue along your hardened bud and swirling it around before immediately latching his lips against it, sucking onto it like his life depended on it, a muffled moan escaping his lips. You gasp softly as you only rut your hips against his knee even messier, moving your arms to wrap lazily around his neck, your fingers finding fistfuls of his hair and tugging onto it to push his face closer to your breast.

“Hm? I can’t hear you.” He pulled away from your breast to speak, his lips curving up into a devious smirk as he looks up at you, his ocean blue eyes had darkened, clouded with lust and desire. He used his free hand to grope your other breast, his thumb circling along the hardened bud. “I need to hear what you need, sweetheart. What is it that you need? Tell me or I won’t do anything.”

You practically groaned in desperation, your pussy drooling with your own arousal and clenching around absolutely nothing as you roll your hips against his sweatpants. You moved one of your hands down in between your bodies and lifted your hips slightly so you can help pull his sweatpants down just enough to allow his cock to spring free and instantly moaning at the sight of his hardened cock, the pink shiny tip glistening with pre-cum. Your hand immediately wrapped around his cock and squeezed the base, causing a groan to erupt from Matt’s throat. 

Your body was shaking with adrenaline and desperation, heat pooling in your tummy and your heart beating rapidly in your chest. He tilted his head onto his shoulder, constant groans leaving his lips as you continued to pump his cock in your palm, your thumb circling along the glistening tip before pulling your hand away to bring your thumb up between your lips and immediately taking it past your lips for a quick taste. The delectable, satisfying taste made your taste buds go crazy, closing your eyes as you take in the sweet taste, a soft moan escaping from your needy lips. 

You open your eyes to see Matt staring at you so intently like he could eat you in seconds if you’d let him, and God you wanted him to right this very second. You brought both of your hands back to place against his shoulders to hold yourself up to keep yourself stradling on his waist. “Need you in all the ways, baby. Please. I can’t take it anymore. Need you so badly.” You moan out in desperation, biting gently onto your bottom lip, tasting him still on your own lips. 

He moved his hand between the both of you and immediately found your soaking wet, throbbing clit and began to rub you through your lacy, completely soaked panties. “Fuck, you’re literally drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He moaned out in approval, moving forward to pepper kisses against your jawline, his tongue tracing along your sweet skin and causing your head to roll back against your own shoulder as you press your hips into his hand. You were so needy at this point, so desperate, and willing to take anything that he was willing to give you. Absolutely anything. 

His finger practically slipped into your slick pussy without even moving your panties out of the way, as they were completely drenched at this point. You swore you had never been more soaking wet in your entire life, but you weren’t complaining, and obviously neither was Matt. 

Matt fucking loved eye contact, especially during intimate times like this. He kept his eyes on you the whole time as his finger found place deep inside of your cunt, immediately hearing the way it squelched against his single digit and feeling it clench. He let out a moan of approval, licking over his lips in a hungry motion as his eyes fall down to between your bodies as you begin to rut your hips against his finger buried in your cunt as he began to thrust in and out your tight pussy, going deeper within each and every thrust. “Oh..fuck.” You gasped out in pleasure, your heart beating rapidly in your chest and sweat glistening against your forehead and pooling into your hairline as you throw your hair over your shoulder to get it our of your way.

You rode his singular finger, his palm cupping your entire center and brushing against your clit with each and every movement. His cock twitched against your thigh as you rubbed yourself against him, heat radiating off your body and onto him. He used his strong grip to rip your panties from off you, causing you to gasp as the shredded material fell to the ground. 

Watching Matt be truly in his element was such a turn on and you needed him desperately. Your slick arousal was coating his bare leg as you pushed your hips into him, immediately gasping out loud as you felt him slip his ring finger inside of you, motioning the “come- hither” with both of his fingers now deep inside of your cunt. 

Your cunt was filled with his fingers, immediately clenching around them as he began to thrust them in and out of your tight hole, his palm cupping your pussy as the sounds of your wet pussy squelches around his long, slender fingers. “Fuck fuck fuck!” You moan out in pure ecstasy, your tits bouncing nearly in Matt’s face as you continue to rut your hips against his lap. His cock twitched immensely against your thigh as you moved your hand down to wrap your fist around his leaking, throbbing cock and began to pump him at the same pace as his fingers were moving inside of you. 

“God, you look so fucking pretty f’me, don’t you, doll? Taking my fingers deep inside this tight little cunt. It’s like your cunt was made for me, wasn’t it, sweetheart?” His words were thickened with lust and desire as he peppered kisses against your collarbone and moving his lips further down to the top of your breasts, running his tongue along your sweet skin. Your body shuddered at his words and the feeling of his tongue against your skin. 

You rode his fingers like it was your full time job, putting in the work and effort to get the job done, but the bonus was it made you feel so fucking good and you didn’t want it to end. His palm created friction against your throbbing clit with each and every movement of his fingers deep inside of you. Your cunt swallowed his fingers perfectly and squelching with each and every thrust. 

“Tell me, doll.” Matt said with a bit of sweetness in his voice, looking up at you as he grabs your plump breast and flicks his tongue over your hardened nipple once again. “Tell me this cunt is mine. Tell me that no one else has ever, and will ever make you feel this good, but me. This cunt is all f’me. isn’t it, doll?”

You nodded your head instantly as you listened to him speak, incoherent moans falling from your lips as he begins to suck onto your hardened bud, his tongue flicking around it repeatedly as he continues to stare up at you. You continue to ride his fingers as they only dive deeper into your tight, wet cunt, your hand trying desperately to keep up with pumping his throbbing hard cock, but all you could seem to focus on was your pleasure, as selfish as that was.

He didn’t seem to mind, though. His attention was solely focused on you and making sure you feel good and finally getting you to cum.

But then he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to immediately whine out desperately at the loss of contact, rutting your hips against his leg and crying out, “Matty, why did you do that?” You almost were on the brink of tears, your face flushed and your body shaking tremendously. “More. Need it.”

He let out a laugh, immediately bringing his fingers that were coated in your juices to his own lips and sucking them clean while moaning in satisfaction at the delectable taste. “Gonna make you cum just from me sucking on your nipples and playing with ‘em, baby. Think you can do that?” 

You’ve never done it before, but Matt knew how soaking wet you got just from him paying full attention to your tits. He loved playing with them and sucking on them and honestly, you loved watching him do it. That alone could probably get you to cum in seconds.

You were already so damn close to your orgasm, your pussy dripping your arousal against his leg. Your hand moved up and down his shaft, feeling it twitch against your fist as your thumb circled the shiny tip, repeating the same motion as you watched Matt’s eyes roll back to his head, pleasure filling his entire body from your hand alone.

“Fuck, keep doing that while I suck on your pretty tits, baby. Wanna see you make a mess on my thigh.”

Your body was shaking and glistening with sweat and all you could focus on was Matt now giving his full attention to your tits, sucking onto your nipple while his pointer finger and thumb tweaked the other hardened bud. You were such a slut for nipple play, you loved it so much and Matt seemed to love sucking on your tits just as much, if not more.

Matt licked, sucked, and nipped your hardened nipple, his eyes staying locked onto yours the entire time as you pushed your pathetic, desperate hips onto his lap, your slick arousal creating a wet patch on the sheets below and down his leg and he moaned against your nipple as he rolls his tongue along it. 

You looked down to watch him in his element; his lips latching around your nipple like he was made specifically for this, just to pleasure you and get you to cum. 

Your hand wrapped around his aching cock harder, squeezing him with each and every tilt of your wrist, your thumb circling along the leaking, shiny pink tip. Your hand movement was sloppy, but Matt didn’t seem to notice, or care given his moans we’re only growing louder against your flesh, rutting his own hips up against your hand. 

He paid attention to your other nipple, giving it the same attention as the other, sucking and licking the hardened bud along his tongue which his fingers pinched the other, causing your body to shake with pleasure rolling through you, mewling out desperate whines that echoed the four walls before you, your hand sloppily pumping his hardened cock as it twitched immensely, signaling he was close, just like you were.

The feeling of your sopping wet pussy grinding against his leg and the feeling of mouth on your tits was too much to bare. “G-gonna cum, baby! Fuck!” You cried out desperately, throwing your head back onto your shoulder and rolling your hips along his lap.

“Come on, sweetheart. Cum all over me like the good girl you are. Just from me sucking on your tits, huh? Pathetic little slut.” He sucked onto your nipple, rolling his tongue along it and flicking it repeatedly, his eyes staying locked onto yours the entire time.All it took was Matt’s encouraging words and the final permission for him to let you cum and you tipped over the edge. 

Loud moans spilled from your lips as the pressure snapped and you allowed your orgasm to take full control of your body while rutting your hips up into Matt and dripping your well deserved arousal against his leg and spilling on the bed sheets before you. Your body shook with pleasure with a shudder running down your spine and electricity shooting through your veins. Your breathing was labored as you tried to breathe properly, your vision hazy from the intense orgasm that just rippled through you. You could feel your sweet slick against his thigh, your hips coming to a halt as you finished riding out your orgasm. 

“Fuck, baby.” Matt moaned out, watching you the entire time in complete and utter awe. “So fucking good f’’me.” He pulled away from your now overly sensitive nipples, rutting his hips up into your hand, his eyes now gazing down before you both, looking at the mess you made on his thigh, his lips curving into a devious smirk. “So good f’me. Can you be a good girl and make me cum, hm?”

You nodded your head immediately to his words, a soft moan leaving your lips as you put your attention solely onto Matt and making sure he reaches his orgasm. Your hand picks up the pace, squeezing and twisting your hand against his shaft as you pump his cock repeatedly, squeezing him fully as your thumb continues to circle along the tip. He immediately groans in pleasure, throwing his head back against his shoulder and pushing his hips up into your hand. 

He fucks your hand, his breathing growing quicker and his moans becoming louder. “Fuck, gonna cum. Just like that, sweetheart. Yes, so good.” He hissed his words out before eliciting another loud groan, pushing his hips up into your hand as you squeeze his cock and immediately gasping in surprise as his cum shoots out in white, sticky ropes against his abdomen and yours, and all over your hand as he fucks your hand through his intense orgasm, your name falling from his lips. 

You loved watching Matt cum, especially knowing you could get him to feel like this. He waited a couple seconds before opening up his eyes to look down at the mess he made against the both of you, a lazy smirk appearing onto his lips. “Fuck, and all of this started because you were such a needy little thing.”

You flashed him a proud smile before taking your cum coated fingers and bringing them to your lips, instantly placing them between your lips and taking in the sweet taste of his cum. You licked over your lips once you pulled your fingers out, leaning forward to press a sweet, soft kiss against his lips so he can taste himself on your lips. 

He moaned against the kiss, kissing you back fully and deeply, a smirk still evident on his face as he pulled away, your forehead resting against his. “You like it though, hm?”

“Fucking love it, and you, my needy girl.”

You were his needy girl, and damn proud of it.

notes: first smut that i wrote in awhile. i hope you enjoyed this. if you have any requests or just wanna chat, my inbox is always open!

taglist:

@strangelife122 @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rafesapprentice @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniszn @estellesdoll @freshsturnzx @ivyyyyyysposts @sturnberries @sturniolochrismatt @lovesturni0l0s

-nessa

[euphoria-looney]

Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

m. list|next

"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option. 

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward. 

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point. 

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?” 

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?” 

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up,  you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him. 

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.” 

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it. 

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.” 

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off. 

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

[hazelira]

little lightning bolt

“Baby, don’t run too fast,” you called, watching your three-year-old son zoom past you with all the energy in his little body. His chubby cheeks were flushed, tiny fists pumping as he dashed through the arcade, excitedly squealing.

Heeseung chuckled beside you, hands tucked into his pockets as he watched your son dart toward a bright, flashing game. “He’s like a little lightning bolt,” he mused, eyes soft with adoration.

You smiled at that, but your gaze never left your little boy, his short legs moving faster than they should. The two of you had promised to bring him here for weeks now, and the second you stepped through the doors of the Chuck E. Cheese restaurant and arcade, he’d exploded with joy, bouncing like a rubber ball from game to game.

For a while, it was harmless fun. Watching him press every button on a racing game he didn’t understand, laughing at how he shrieked when the claw machine refused to give him a stuffed animal, holding him up so he could shoot hoops into a basket way too high for him.

But the thing about toddlers? They had no brakes.

“Hey, buddy, slow down,” Heeseung warned when he saw your son making a beeline toward a restricted area near the emergency exit. His significant, wobbly steps were headed where he wasn’t supposed to be.

You watched as Heeseung reached for him, strong hands gently wrapping around the little boy’s pudgy waist to scoop him up before he could go further.

And that’s when it happened.

The meltdown.

One second, your son was fine. The next, his little face scrunched up in frustration, and then—

“No! NO!!”

A piercing scream tore through the arcade. Heads turned. Parents glanced over. The flashing lights of the machines only made it more dramatic as your son’s tiny fists flailed, legs kicking as Heeseung held him firmly in his arms.

Your heart clenched when you saw the betrayal on his pudgy face, tears welling up in his round eyes as if his whole world had come crashing down. “I wanna go! I wanna go!!” he shrieked, body wriggling as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, jaw tightening as he tried to keep cool. He was patient—always had been—but this was a whole new level of meltdown. “Hey, buddy, I know you’re upset, but you can’t go there,” he said calmly, adjusting his grip.

Your son didn’t have it. “NOOOO!!” He screamed louder, fists pounding against Heeseung’s chest in frustration. “Put me down!!”

Tears streamed down his face, his chubby cheeks red with frustration, snot running down his nose. Seeing it made your heart ache, even though you knew he didn’t understand.

Heeseung looked at you, eyes filled with exhaustion and silent pleading. You sighed and stepped forward, touching your son’s back gently. “Baby, I know you’re upset,” you cooed softly, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “But Daddy wasn’t trying to be mean. He was keeping you safe.”

Your son sobbed harder, curling into Heeseung’s chest despite his tantrum. “I— I—” His hiccups made it hard to talk.

“I know, sweetheart,” you murmured, kissing his damp curls. “You were having so much fun, huh?”

A broken, wobbly nod.

“But you scared Daddy, baby. You ran too fast, and he didn’t want you hurt.”

Slowly, his cries softened into sniffles. His tiny fingers now clutched onto Heeseung’s shirt instead of pushing him away.

“I just— I wanna run,” he mumbled against Heeseung’s chest, his voice muffled and small.

Heeseung finally exhaled, shifting your son so he was cradled more securely in his arms. “I know, buddy,” he murmured, kissing his head. “But you gotta listen to Mommy and Daddy, okay? We wanna keep you safe.”

Another sniffle. Then a soft, “Okay.”

You wiped away the last of his tears with your sleeve, smiling as you saw the exhaustion setting into his big, round eyes. “Wanna play one more game, baby?” you asked gently.

Your son hesitated, then nodded, rubbing his sleepy face against Heeseung’s shoulder.

And just like that, the storm had passed.

Heeseung shot you a tired, knowing smile as he slowly set your son back on the ground. “Alright, lightning bolt,” he teased softly, ruffling his messy curls. “Let’s go win you a prize, yeah?”

Your son beamed up at him, the earlier tantrum already a forgotten memory in his little mind. He grabbed Heeseung’s hand, gripping his pinky with his tiny fingers. “Yeah!”

And just like that, your little lightning bolt was back in action.

Heeseung sighed, rolling his shoulders as he let your son drag him toward the game section again. You could tell the meltdown had drained him, but the moment your little boy looked up at him with his puffy, teary eyes and chubby cheeks still glistening, Heeseung softened like butter in the sun.

You walked beside them, watching as your son squeezed Heeseung’s pinky tightly in his tiny grip, his other hand wiping at his runny nose. “What game do you wanna play, baby?” you asked, brushing damp curls from his forehead.

Your son’s lips pursed in thought before he pointed toward the biggest game in the arcade—the claw machine.

Heeseung let out a chuckle. “You sure about that one, buddy? That thing’s harder than it looks.”

But your little boy was determined. “I want the bear,” he announced, jabbing his finger toward a giant plush bear sitting in the pile of toys inside the machine.

You and Heeseung exchanged a look. That bear was way too big for the flimsy claw to lift, but the hope in your son’s eyes made it impossible to say no.

Heeseung fished out some tokens from his pocket. “Alright, let’s give it a shot.”

Lifting your son so he could reach the controls, Heeseung guided his tiny hands to the joystick while you knelt beside them. Your little boy’s brows furrowed in deep concentration as he maneuvered the claw over the stuffed bear.

“I got it,” he whispered, pressing the button with all his might.

The claw descended. It grabbed the bear’s ear—barely. The moment it started rising, the bear slipped right out.

Your son gasped. “Nooo!”

Heeseung bit his lip, suppressing a laugh. “That was close, buddy. Wanna try again?”

A determined nod. “Again!”

Another token in. Another attempt. Another fail.

Your son let out a tiny frustrated growl, his lower lip wobbling. “It’s cheating,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his pudgy tummy.

You smiled and kissed his cheek. “It’s a tricky game, baby. But you did well!”

Heeseung nudged him playfully. “Tell you what, how about one more try? And if we don’t get the bear, we’ll pick a different prize from the ticket counter, yeah?”

Your son considered this, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

This time, Heeseung let him move the joystick, but when your son pressed the button, Heeseung subtly tapped it again at the perfect moment, giving the claw a better grip.

And then—

Clink!

The claw successfully carried a smaller bear to the prize chute.

Your son gasped dramatically, his mouth forming the most significant O you’d ever seen. The second Heeseung reached in and pulled out the plushie, your little boy grabbed it and held it to his chest, squeezing it tightly.

“I won!” he squealed, bouncing repeatedly in Heeseung’s arms. “Mommy, I won!”

You laughed, heart swelling at how quickly he forgot his earlier tantrum. “You did, baby! Good job!”

Heeseung grinned, ruffling your son’s hair. “Knew you had it in you, champ.”

Your little boy beamed at both of you, hugging the bear even tighter. Then, without warning, he leaned forward and pressed a big, sloppy kiss to Heeseung’s cheek.

Heeseung froze.

You giggled back as your son pulled away and rested his head on Heeseung’s shoulder. “Tank you, Daddy,” he mumbled sleepily.

The exhaustion from all the running, screaming, and excitement had finally caught up to him. His chubby fingers clung to Heeseung’s hoodie, and his breathing slowed as he curled up against his father’s chest, hugging his new plushie with his other arm.

Heeseung swallowed, eyes softening as he cradled your son close. He gently kissed the top of his head, rocking him slightly. “Anytime, buddy.”

You reached over, brushing a hand over your son’s back. “I think someone’s ready for a nap.”

Heeseung chuckled, shifting the now-sleepy toddler in his arms. “Guess the lightning bolt finally ran out of energy, huh?”

You smiled, slipping your hand into Heeseung’s free one as the three of you approached the exit. Your son might have had a meltdown earlier, but seeing him snuggled up against his dad, entirely at peace, made everything worth it.

And despite the tantrums, the chaos, and the exhaustion—these were the moments you both would cherish forever.

requested by: @sunoos-baby

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

@dearhooonie @shxhdsstuff @seonhoon @jakeflvrz @dollrincess @ethanatvre @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @dolliewon @s1rawb3rry @freaky-enhamadswriter @aishigrey @yangjungwonnie @lilmarsh-t @hoseokteardrop @mrsjjongstby @ro-diaries @ijustwannareadstuff20 @leilamaybelyla @celestialen @yejisuu @kpopslays @berryberrystrawbery @jungwon101 @luvleyylina @starbyeol1512 @teddybeartaetae @ihearteatingxo @kpopslays @jalicecookie @luv-rizzimura @lhspeachie @teireiii @iheartmaeumi @demigodmahash

[gnohomotho]

May I play with you?「✦Pt.2✦」

Pairing: The Salesman // The Recruiter x fem!reader Summary: Oh man, you're screwed. Can you save your friend? Can you play the game right? Or are your cards all wrong, closed off with a deranged man who is enthralled with you? Simple truth or dare, or is it far worse for you? And is that large hand caressing your thigh more intricate than you thought? This one is roller-coaster, please strap in. Warnings: I think I may see what everyone saw in this hot lunatic NSFW language, obsession, kidnapping, bondage, gagging, guns, using said guns, abuse, fondling, drugging, no consent and dubious consent, mentions of death, threat of death, mentions of sexual themes and a very enamoured maniac. MDNI, 18+. Porn with a plot. Word count: 6k A/N: *chuckles* I'm in danger. ˙ᵕ˙ Seriously, this man is quite something, doing my best here but I do finally see why so many requests featured this handsome mother----. Link to previous Link to next Gorgeous gif by @lenoirexv! If you enjoy my works, I'm grateful for every like // reblog // follow // request // message! ♥

Mishko, Mishko, Mishko…

You ran.

The train would take too long.

You dodged dark streets and glittering puddles, streetlamps casting an orange glow that only helped fuel your desperation. Your eyes, momentarily dizzy from each scene leaving a burnt image of itself the faster you ran, darted to your phone screen, and you followed the little red square as if life depended on it. Masterfully dodging inhabitants, your own feet, reflecting puddles.

Every light was hope you clung to. The rhythmic move of your dark tights blurring against the reflective surfaces reminding you to hurry.

Surely he isn’t that unhinged, surely this is all a big stupid joke. Maybe Mishko put you up to this.

Maybe he’s in on it, yes, you huff as you turn another corner into a dark alley, coat flying behind you. You didn’t even notice it start to rain again. Droplets cling to your hair which clings to your face.

You stop before what looks like a motel. A tall building with a burnt-out sign, barely flickering a pink glow around letters that no longer work. It has begun to pour.

Your hair clings to your head and your shoulders, as if trying to shield you from the oncoming inevitable.

You walk up the soaked path, noting the dead flower garden. Though you detest roses, you’d give anything to see some kind of life reassure you that life indeed has a place in the decrepit building.

Doorbell? Knock? Tear down the door? No time for that, you look at your phone one last time to make sure you’re breaking into the right place and run against it shoulder first.

It was unlocked and you fall inside unceremoniously, catching yourself mid-stumble.

Your coat only just now catching up whooshes past your legs and swings back, the crinkling sound and your hurried breaths the only thing you can register. Everything is so eerily…silent.

Like a forest with no life, indicating a predator on the prowl.

“Mishko?!”

You yell into unlit hallways, the ominous reddish pink barely reflected from the outside the only means of light. This place won’t even let light in, let alone hope.

Nothing. Nobody answers.

Just the tapping and flow of rain on a tin roof, drips and water hitting the ground, the downpour covering all else.

You begin to check each empty room, each room with a door, anything. So hectic you don’t notice your breath and vision unable to keep up. You’ve wrapped your arms around you, and you don’t even notice. If anyone were to see you, they’d think someone stole Death’s cape and was trying to blend in with little success.

All you get in return is creaking floorboards, the stench of rotting wood, and a place that looks at best deserted. At worst like the cliché scene of a murder.

How did I manage to turn this into such a tragedy in a matter of minutes?

You drag the hair out of your face and stare ahead. The way up is blocked. One room left. One more shaky breath, as deep as you can muster in your burning shallow lungs. Your fists clench.

You dart to the door, but rest your hand on the doorknob, not moving. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You’re…so sure yet terrified.

It all feels so…gaudily maquette-like. Fake. Like you’re unknowingly on a theatre stage, not knowing the play for the amusement of an unseen audience.

Until you open the door, this is all just a bad dream and none of it counts. No real-world repercussions. Until you twist the knob on the door. You feel water on your cheeks and realise it is no longer rain. Almost angrily does your hand shoot up, pushing the moisture from your eyes – you need to see clearly, not cry, for goodness’ sake. Even though your lips are quivering and your breath running through a barely open throat, your resolve strengthens.  

You kick the door open ready to jump at or be jumped, but you are ready.

Yet the sight that greeted you left you as unprepared as could be.

Your colleague, your friend, sits tied up, mouth gagged, eyes carved with terror and tension.

They meet yours with utter confusion and blind fear. The moment he sees you, he immediately stops blinking, pleading at you with no words, arms wrestling against the ropes. His head is shaking so vigorously you see droplets of sweat fly away, even in the pale-yellow light from the streetlamps outside. You’re almost paralysed but act on nothing but impulse and placid resolve to get him out.

“Mishko!” Your voice is barely a cracked tone, you’re chilled to the bone and shaking but cannot let your friend be hurt. Continue to be hurt.

“Hold on, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

You run to him, kneel to him, softly placing a hand on each cheek, his forehead, checking his body for harm. No blood. No bruises. Yet. You put his shaking face in your own shivering hands and cup his cheeks.

“Please, just nod or shake your head. Are you hurt?”

You gaze into his soft dark eyes darting back and forth chaotically, tears streaming down his face.

But he shakes his head, and you feel the vibrations going through him, his stifled breathing, his attempts to speak.

You pull his face to yours and lay your forehead on his, knowing that calms him down when he’s panicked. “Oh, thank god, Mishi, Mishi...” And you’re also providing a human shield should anyone wish to visit.

With a gentle whisper, you try to assess the situation and look like you’re not panicking out of your mind yourself.

He’s tied to a chair, there’s furniture in the room, a window. The dark red carpet doesn’t do anything to ease your mind, and the walls are ostentatiously empty. No potential weapons. One way out.

You look back at him, his eyes visibly wishing to convey something. With a slow gaze you follow his chaotic movements and whisper once more, slowly, barely above the rain outside.

“Are we alone?”

His eyes stop darting like tennis balls across the room and gaze into you with utter desperation. Very slowly his head moves to make an almost unnoticeable motion from left to right.

Your heart drops.

You guide your hands to his cheeks and try to hush both him and yourself again.

“Shh, Mishi, it’s ok. I’ll get you out of here.” Fuck fuck fuck… “It’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” Why are you lying to the both of you?

You fling the coat down for more range of motion and resolve to compartmentalise – the gag. Then ropes. Then window.

Although the light provided should be enough, and your fingers are usually long and nimble, the gag is well knotted, and you can’t seem to get rid of it yourself even though you’re doing your level best.

Fingers shaking, paralyzed, losing feeling. Rain pouring through your thoughts. You feel your own mind begin to try to leave the horrendous situation but you drag it back kicking and screaming.

With exasperation and a huffed curse you leave the back of his head unable to undo the gag, instead endeavouring to fish out your phone---but suddenly your friend starts frantically shaking his head, staring above you and behind you, looking to your phone and vigorously trying to convey disagreement.

“No…phone? Ok…don’t worry.” You go back to him, trying to undo the ropes instead, but you did dial out a small emergency number. Just didn’t press ‘call’.

“Got it. I’ll get you out.” You both inadvertently yet subconsciously hold him through the ropes as you lower to get rid of the restraints and search for a way to undo the knots. They’re good, but the ropes were too thick for any intricacies.

“Almost…almost…”

You’re breathing so fast that the sharp intakes of air are actively hurting your throat.

The sharp movements and concentration against your own cold shivers and the hush of rain outside completely envelop you, and you don’t notice something very important.

Your friend has stopped fidgeting under you.

Even though your arm is halfway around him fighting with the restraints, his heart beating into it is the only motion you feel now. His breathing is low, turned to muffled whimpers. His body language is pointed to a single source, no longer aiding your rescue attempts. A chill runs through you.

“Mishko?” You barely utter his name, fear gripping your shoulders.

Just as you were before the door, now you do not wish to continue the next few seconds lest you find out the source of his paralysis and breath turned to whimpers. Your eyes are caught in a wide look into nowhere, clutching your friend’s chest with your arm unmoving, and you do not wish to recognize what made his startled breath stop.

And the source was delighted to make itself known.

❥❥❥

The voice carves through the thick silence; through rain, through caught breaths, through your shivers turning the atmosphere blurry, like a hot knife through butter.

“What a pair of lovebirds.”

The familiar voice.

That self-satisfied smile.

That curve of inflection that could be making a sales pitch.

All have been burnt into your brain; you don’t even have to turn around to see. And you don’t. You cup your friend’s face once more and stare directly into his eyes, ignoring the visitor entirely for one last whisper.

“Look at me. Mishi. I’ll get you out. It’s ok. It’s all ok. I promise, I’ll get you out.”

A firm hand on your cold, soaked through shoulder reminded you of how futile your words felt. The shirt clung to your skin so closely that his fingers felt like they were directly on you with no layer between, exacerbated by the sensitivity of your tingling neck.

You shake out of the grip, pushing the hand away as you would a worrisome insect, and spin around. Now face to face with what you knew was waiting for you, but hoped against hope against it.

In dim light reflecting orange streetlamps and burnt out pink signs, half enveloped in shadows now in full height driving nails of frost through your spine…

Is that charming face, reptile-like smile, the smart suit, and the eyes…eyes far darker than you remember from the subway.

Looking down at you with such feigned pity your heart skips several beats, and your breath catches in your throat anew.

❥❥❥

“Clever girl…” he articulates to himself with feigned surprise, as he rests his hand back to his side, almost hurt that you deprived him of your touch so fast.

But he continues, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. His eyes are following your friend, reminding you of a predator satisfied with its ensnared prey and enjoying the seconds before its feast.

“The lady got here so fast I didn’t even get a say in the way the evening was going to go,” he sighs, leaning into the area behind you as if he’s reading the latest headline of Gardening Weekly.

Calm. Jovial. Nonchalant.

You cannot even gather a reply; you’re in a state of shock. Your friend’s muffled crying slaps you in the face and you shake through and through, mustering the words.

“What the hell, what in the god damn hell is wrong with you?! He didn’t do anything---”

The salesman’s hand lifts to his face with a single finger resting against his smiling lips.

“Hush, miss Y/N. Nobody’s harmed…just yet.” He smiles his cheshire grin and steps closer. You don’t step back, firmly planted between the man and your friend.

Amusement flickers in his eyes. Almost a hint of affection curled in something depraved and waiting, yearning to leap out.

“Brave little lady, aren’t you…” his hand lifts to your cheek and you still.

Refuse.

To move.

His eyebrows lift, and he makes a small, cut off movement to your skin. Teasing. Closing the distance.

Then another.

Those lips slightly open, the plastic smile, those dark eyes piercing you…was that an “ah?” sound as he moved to you?

You still don’t flinch.

“And. One. More.” He smiles as he brushes your skin.

Eyes so sickeningly soft and hands so falsely gentle you feel nauseous.

Suddenly, the salesman grabs your cheeks into his hand, his large palm and long fingers easily able to hold your jaw and dig into your skin with no effort at all.

“Very brave little lady…” his words curl into a slow purr in exaggerated amusement. He pulls his hand away, leaving you with red indentations on each cheek and an aching shivering jaw.

“Perhaps…a very naïve little lady. With such adorable new dimples.” His head cranes to one side, studying you. As he straightens slowly, brushing down his suit, he simply asks as if nothing were terribly wrong:

“Now that we’re all here, how about a game?”

❥❥❥

Truth or dare?!

Did you hear that right?

“Truth or dare…?” You utter, the salesman nodding with a polite, closed-lip smile. Somehow, the man is closer to you than he seemed before. You can once again smell his cologne, the spicy mix of his contemptuous persona and effort he must be putting into this play.

“Quite self-explanatory. Dare – one of you must do as they are told, or there will be consequences.”

You don’t even manage to muster a flinch as he pulls out a gun in place of a spinner.

You know you’d flinch back into him, slowly realising how far ahead he thinks in the game behind the game.

As he lays his briefcase down beside the table, he leans into you, brushing the tip of your ear as if whispering a secret.

His hand strokes your hair as he does so, periodically, ever so lightly.

You feel his hot breath on each millimetre of your earlobe and neck, driving ice through your back anew. He remains there before speaking, as if knowing exactly what he’s doing to you and relishing it.

“And truth, as in, ‘truth be told, I would far prefer my little lady in place of her boring paramour as we speak, tied and pleading with those big doll eyes of hers that leave me no rest, begging for me’ but rules should be respected.” His smile never fades as he pulls away and sees you visibly shiver from your toes to your ears.

❥❥❥

All three of you sit at the dingy table, the gun lying in the middle.

The salesman kindly did undo your friend’s gag but left him tied up. You can see Mishko's mind racing and his mouth uttering unsaid words, eyes darting from you to the salesman and back to the gun on the table repetitively. His soft brown hair clings to his forehead as yours does to your skin, though it’s through sweat and tears – and you want nothing more than to reassure him.

Yet you’re very aware that every word can and will be used against you.

You don’t want to tempt the volatile substance of a man now uncomfortably close to your side – you feel like you’re swimming in a room full of ether trying not to light a match with each breath.

The salesman remains ever jovial.

“I think the lady should go first.” He coos, cocking his head to you, sinking those eyes into yours. How is his hair still perfectly in place, how does he still look charming while I feel like I’m the one to blame and doing everything wrong?!

You touch the gun and make sure to not even brush the trigger, motioning it to spin. The barrel points to the salesman.

“Oh my…” he turns to you, self-satisfied eyes closed into coin slots and a smile playing with each corner of his mouth. He leans into you, so close your noses threaten to touch and whispers:

“Dare.”

“I dare you to let him go.” You reply, in monotone, not pulling away. Not playing his game.

He pulls away in feigned disappointment, mouth curling into a frown.

“How disappointing…but no, I can’t do that, we wouldn’t have enough players. The game wouldn’t work. Try again, little lady, and…try to play fair.” He nudges the gun with a single finger never letting his gaze off you. “I don’t like to be bored.”

“Take away any weapons you still have on you, your phone, any recording devices – all electronics, anything – take it out and place it far away from reach.” Your mind was racing, you tried to think of something better – like daring him to take out every single bullet from the gun’s chamber, but you were sure the rules wouldn’t let you sabotage the game.

Wordlessly, he shifts through his pockets, still gazing at you. Nothing.

Breast pocket, nothing. A pat in a playful manner to indicate emptiness, you hate him so much in this moment your eyes will set fire to the table.

With a single circular elegant leg motion, he slides his briefcase away from the ground below the table, circling his leg back and laying a hand on your thigh as he straightens back into the chair.

“Such a clever girl.”

He spins the gun, still resting his other hand on your thigh. The place where he caresses seems to burn straight through into the chair. You daren’t move and feel the outline of his watch digging into your skin as he ever so teasingly moves his hand up.

The gun lands on your friend, whose eyes dart from the barrel to your face, wordlessly pleading for help. Your lips curl into a voiceless whisper of his name, trying to say “don’t worry, it’s ok” but he doesn’t look like he’s even remotely there.

His eyes dart to your legs to see the contrast of a large hand covering your upper thigh, almost digging into your tender flesh as you sit, paralysed, and it seems the gears in his head are spinning for dear life.

Once more you understand that you’re behind on the game behind the game; he’s not the only piece of collateral in this room. He’s playing you against each other while the both of you are each other’s bargaining chips.

“T…truth…” his shaky voice stumbles out, and you realise it’s the first time this cursed evening you’ve heard him speak. It hits you like a brick of reality – it’s not a game, the gun is loaded, and you’re fucked.

“Mishi…” you whisper, unable to contain the fear and sorrow and in your voice, unable to stop the worry lining your face from spilling out. Don’t try anything. Please let me take care of it.

The salesman smiles and rubs your thigh, momentarily letting you go as he gathers his hands under his chin, gazing from you straight into your friend. He leans into his words and the table creaks in utter indifference.

“Do you love her?”

❥❥❥

That self-satisfied cheshire grin, as if he laid down a royal flush. Your heart stopped in your throat. The man before you, frozen in place. Everything could have stopped breathing and held its breath, and you wouldn’t notice.

You’re growing dizzy, this must be a bad dream. Just a bad dream. This is so stupid, so fucked up, so stupid!

Your friend looks like he’s going to be sick.

“As…as…a…friend…friend…y--yes…”

Perhaps it was your hypervigilance, your head-counting proclivities, but you could sense the atmosphere stiffen around you, air growing hard to breathe. Did you imagine it, or did the man beside you somehow darken without moving a brow? You say nothing, but your eyes growing wide and inability to speak say enough. You don’t take another breath.

Both your hand and the hand of the salesman darted for the gun at the same time, only yours failed to grab it first and landed straight on the salesman’s wrist.

With undue resolve you do not let go, trying to keep his pinned arm locked and unable to raise from the table.

From the corner of your eye which is darting from your friend to the gun, you see a head lift in amusement and slowly lean down to one side, mouth growing from an open expression of entertained indulgence into a closed mouth grin, watching you from your periphery.

“Amusing, little lady. As much as I enjoy your tender fingers grabbing me, do let go. Or I will be forced to end the game prematurely for lack of viable players.”

With heavy reluctance, you let go of his wrist, pulling your arm away.

“Don’t hurt him. Don’t break the rules. Please.”

It’s barely a whisper and he doesn’t react. Merely takes the gun and places a finger on the trigger.

“I truly dislike people who do not listen. People who speak so much and say so little. I detest people who are impolite, people who break the rules so carefully put in place to protect them, people who think they can just skirt by and cheat and…” he stands up, gun pointed straight at your friend, “…waste my time and my breath. Say it once, why say it again? Let’s see…” he lets the gun grow limp in his hand, checking the chamber.

“Mhhm.” The gun is pointing at your friend again. The salesman’s stance is straight, arm outstretched, a perfect line with the gun’s barrel.

“First time player’s privilege,” he says, the joy leaving his voice entirely. “Answer truthfully, one last chance.”

“Y…yes, I do, I …I…love her, please…please…don’t shoot----I----”

The gunshot rings through your ears leaving your head a ringing, blurry mess and your voice sounding screams without your influence into a slow-motion void.

For a moment you cannot see, won’t look, growing sick from the sudden chaos and noise and a heart stopped with the unforgiving shot.

Forcing yourself to open your eyes into the smoke and horror, you see the salesman still holding the gun. He is unmoving, dominant arm cocked slightly to the side of your friend’s shivering form. A bullet hole gapes in the wall behind him, narrowly missing his head.

“Was it that hard?” He purrs, sitting back down, straightening his suit as he does so. Treating the gun as a mere extension of his arm, nothing more.

He lays it back on the table and spins it. Through the fog and frozen shock, you register something about your friend being in no position to spin, favours, you don’t know anymore, you want to drop dead or faint or just wake up…

“Be glad there is a lady present, young man – I could have just as easily asked you how often you’ve touched yourself to thoughts of those ethereal legs alone.”

His tone darkens, and a very short glance in his direction shows something…ominous in his penetrating, dead eyes. His movements have grown slow, underlined in their oddness, as if he were moving in honey. The way he cocked his head with that smile frozen in place as he spoke could chill a corpse.

“Or…how often you’ve offered her tea with a little bit of that pesky white powder still undissolved…hm? Poor little thing doesn’t even know why she missed our dates – she’d never stand me up like that! I thought it so odd. When I found out. I was a tad. Angry. Hm…My little lady. Helpless in the crude intentions of another. Tell me. Will she or I ask you first, just what exactly did you have planned? The two of us know your sick answer to that...”

The salesman lifts his eyebrows, his hand teasingly back to caressing your thigh – this time, with added fervour. His unblinking eyes, his speeded breaths, his focused demeanour – he’s grown excited. And the fingers of his large hand echo it directly in the way he grabs at the inner side of your thigh, almost prying your legs apart the more you push them together.

“…Does she know about the photographs? Does she know about where your dirty, undeserving, pitiful little hands have been? I bet she’d be very eager to find out…where the audacity you had when she was conscious ends and the depravity of the trash you are once she is not begins.”

As if on cue, the hand stops and merely rests in your lap. You realise that a large part of his words was reverberating through the walls and the rain, loud and sharp with something resembling cold venom, cold anger, cold…abhorrence. You look down at the hand in your lap.

Resting there. Perfectly cut nails. Strong fingers. Still.

You think you’d very much like to hold it, but don’t move.

❥❥❥

All of a sudden, you shiver straight through.

You've grown so cold.

The tension in your thighs gives way to weakness.

The words turn poisonous in your ears and against your wishes, you feel violated.

Less by the hand on your thigh stroking its fingers upwards, now having stopped, satisfied with your surrender.

As silly as it seems, even to you in your current state. Violated.

More so by his words, because...you know. You know it's true and feel disgusting. Your brain somehow compartmentalised too hard and the scene in front of you fades away leaving only your thoughts and fears; circling a maelstrom to drag you down with no sound.

His clingy love, his unwanted touches, his abuse of your kindness – your gestures of care swallowed by shallow need and hormonal outbursts.

On those late evenings.

Wherever you were, he was.

Wherever you tried to make a place for you with boundaries.

There he was.

Playfully violating them.

Ignoring your tenth 'no thank you'.

Stealing touches and hugs and even playing on your compassionate strings, asking for cuddles and head pats and telling you to softly caress his hair as he leaned into your chest and dragged his head down to your breasts pretending to search for a tense heartbeat.

All because he was stressed. He needed it. He needed you and pretended that what he gave back was adequate. Though all you wanted was safety, peace, and to be left alone. That never featured in the equation.

You remember how it was always suddenly four, five in the morning. The bitter taste in your mouth. The way the tea tasted funny. How clouded your head was.

Suddenly, the soaked shirt clinging to every inch of your skin feels so very exposing. The mess of a friend in front of you blurs as you try not cry.

So fucking stupid, Y/N. So fucking stupid.

Naked, violated, stupid.

You register the lower, slow voice, almost mocking in its sympathy and disdain.

"Oh, now, look at what you've done. And I was being so very reserved, ignoring a chance to ask for a truth I thought better of asking sooner. Anyhow. No matter. Tell me, young man…"

The salesman lifts a hand, leaving it to hover over the gun but only caressing the air above it.

"Tell us what you told your colleagues, when discussing that interesting study you grew so invested in. I hear it was quite the riot among men of your position. Tell me what got you so mesmerised, so...worked up as miss Y/N worked hard only a few rooms away. Careful, don't let your trousers grow too tight when you do..."

His hand lightly brushed the gun's trigger.

"...my fingers are itchy."

"That's…that's against the rules," you half-whisper, half-rasp into air that barely carries your words.

The hand on your thigh begins to slide up and down, as if reassuring you. The whole dynamic is so fucked up you feel your limbs losing sense of touch, growing colder. So cold they might as well be stone.

"So is making my little lady so disconcerted. Pardon the rudeness, miss Y/N, if you may. But I am so very interested and want you to hear it with me. Let the trash talk."

You know he's making that puppy-eyed expression in your direction, toying with you. You don't even have to look.

"Making my dear so very…" his hand finds yours and holds your dead fingers between his warmth, rubbing them in what has to be faux, manipulative, performative care. This is all pretend. He's lying. You know he's lying. One worse than the other. Your sister was more correct than she knew.

Funny. It would remind you of a play you liked, a fun performance where a bloke goes by each member of the audience with a list, yelling as he scratches out lines - "Twit, dumbass, twit, dumbass..." he stops mid-performance and gazes with hope to the back of the audience and announces: "Ah! But back there! There's a change! Two dumbasses right next to each other!" You don't laugh, but feel that is very much your situation.

"…cold." He frowns and rests his hand in your lap with yours still inside.

Now you look. His face isn't smiling. His voice isn't warm. His lips aren't cheeky, his eyes are zoned in and glassy. Aimed at the man ahead like a bayonet right under the chin.

What's happening to you? Is it the transfer of affect? Your emotions both high and subdued? The tension, shock, adrenalin find each nook in your body and mind, forcing you to cling desperately to the safest thing around?

Or spewing over everything like a sickening cloud of mustard gas and clouding rational thought? Which is it?!

Your breath had grown slow, shallow, and the walls of the dingy room were fading together in nondescript floating blurs. You heard him. You heard someone you trusted, cared for, when all was said and done, speak of what you were aware of but didn't know the details of.

A study concerning human behaviour and what some men would do, should they face no consequences.

The salesman nudged the gun if the words were growing slow.

You learned that the friend you trusted would endeavour to do things to you that you hoped were only categories in bad adult content. You learned he thought of you that way and dreamed of it, even if he hated himself for it afterwards. He did try it, over and over. He lied to you. Over and over.

Couldn’t help himself.

Limp, lifeless, dead eyed – no consequences.

Fair game.

You felt like being sick and setting the whole building on fire, the two of them included.

❥❥❥

So, you did what any rational person in your situation would do.

You stood up.

“I need some fresh air,” you hear your lips mumble and don’t even register that the hand doesn’t try to stop you. Mechanically you turn around and walk slowly towards the exit. Two voices follow you out:

“Of course, miss Y/N. The game is paused. Do come back as soon as you can. We’re having such fun, aren’t we?”

And:

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way…I thought you felt…I thought you would…”

You don’t even turn around as you hear the blunt sound of something slapping against something else hard. No more voices follow.

You only walk to the very first door and when you are nearly sure you’re at least partly alone, you sink to your knees in sobbing shivers that make no sound, only force your face to grimace and your hands to hold you around your body in nothing short of desperation and being done.

Why don’t I just play a truth and lie? He’ll shoot me. Everything works out. Boom. Peace. Maybe a dare, so I can ask to shoot the gun into the wall. And shoot myself. Fuck. Such a dumb bitch you are, Y/N. All your fault.

You’re leaning against the doorframe, half outside, and the rain is helping wash your thoughts away. How you wish it would go straight through and dissolve you with it.

“Tender flower, tender flower…” a voice humms behind you as if caught in a fond memory. You don’t look up or behind you. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re beginning to feel like you have nothing much to lose, over something so...silly.

“You know, you remind me of my favourite flower, little lady.” The voice stops beside you and you still don’t lift your head. You just stare into the pavement, far away from yourself.

The salesman bends down to be level with you, hands behind his back. Head cocking to the side in his usual manner, almost in a play of affection. Your heart sublimates from frost straight to anger and then…nothing. You grow numb again. But do look into his eyes as he speaks, noting the small smirk.

“Beautiful white blossoms, sharp, geometrical. Elegant. Everything in place, everything in order. Even closed, the flowers seem to sleep in a manner that exudes quiet beauty. Leaving one waiting for them to open, just to see them in bloom.”

Is he truly that mental?

“But what I appreciate most about this flower is the fact…that its leaves have nothing but sharp prickles around every edge. They themselves carry a smooth surface with unnoticeable little hooks should anyone try to touch their flowers. The stems are thorny, even in their dark, mesmerising stature and grace. And the parts hidden below ground…where the life of the plant resides…are safely covered by a shell enclosed in sharp thorns.”

He is truly that mental.

“And…” he leans closer, making sure to not touch you, but you can see that small smile and those piercing dark eyes almost caressing you through the rain, “the whole plant is deathly poisonous. Not only does it help you die, but you will desire death every second that your hallucinating brain cannot see its own lungs unable to lift…as you suffocate on dry land, slowly, slowly…so very slowly.”

He smiles as if remembering a fond memory.

“The blossoms carry the poison. The leaves carry the poison. The stem carries the poison. The seedpods and their precious seeds are the most poisonous parts of the whole plant. Imagine that. The grace of the plant, the beautiful life-giving hidden piece, the essence itself…so very lethal.”

You look up at him. You know the plant he’s describing. You know it because it happens to be one of your favourites too. Your lips open just a tiny bit and you see something else in those eyes for only a little fleeting while. Something you’re surely placing there yourself. You really must be damaged, out of it, desperate.

But you speak nonetheless:

“…Funny…the whole flower, in its beauty…with each sharp edge and prickle…simply says…don’t touch me. It won’t hurt you until you transgress and grab at what doesn’t belong to you…But the being wordlessly says…Don’t touch my flowers. Don’t touch my leaves. Don’t touch my stem. And don’t fucking touch me.”

You see his smile grow in a small act of genuine amusement. The salesman’s eyes are looking at you, through you, but you sense no lies in that look now.

He genuinely looks…affectionately satisfied. Am I high? He looks…sweet.

“What if I were to be very cautious with each blossom, and ask the plant for permission when she’s feeling shy? Would she bloom in my presence? I know her well, I know where I may and may not lay my fingers – I have studied her quite closely. I know when to let her grow in peace and gather strength in solitude. Tell me, miss Y/N. Would she bloom for me if I tended to her?”

“Depends. What if the plant asks you to throw her into a wall?”

A very surprised chuckle escapes his lips and wanders into the night rain.

“Then I’ll take her upstairs and arrange for that to be possible. Anything for her little lethal, tender heart.”

[enwoso]

PLAYING FOR MORE | alessia russo

(grumpy universe)

grumpy masterlist

alessia sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she stared at the pregnancy test. two lines, they stared back at her. her heart felt as though it was lodged in her throat, her pulse louder than any cheering crowd she had ever played in front of.

she had worked hard to get were she was — unc scholarship, a starting spot on the team, become captain, achieve her first call up to the senior england squad. she was a rising star.

and now, well right now she was a twenty year old college student staring down a future she hadn't planned for.

her phone buzzed on the desk, a message from her boyfriend: harrison.

—

alessia's usual type wasn't football players, they were too loud, too cocky, too much trouble.

but yet here she was, tying her boots on the sidelines of the practice field sneaking glances across the turf at harrison reed - the wide receiver who had too much charm and a smile that made her stomach flip.

it started during her freshman year, her soccer practice had run late and alessia sweaty and exhausted from the scorching sun of north carolina had cut across the football fields to get back to her dorm quicker.

she hadn't expected anyone to be there, let alone him.

"well if it isn't the soccer team's star girl herself!" harrison's voice rang out as she passed. she's rolled her eyes — of course he'd call her that.

"hey footbal guy." she shot back, not stopping. the only thing in her mind was the cold shower she was going to have when she got back to her dorm.

he jogged over, helmet in his hand as he fell into step beside her, "you always this friendly or did i get lucky today?"

alessia just snorted, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face, "depends, are you always this annoying or am i just lucky?"

that should've been it, a quick exchange, a bit of teasing but harrison wasn't the kind of guy to leave things alone, he liked to push boundaries and push people's buttons — be annoying in simple terms.

so over the next few weeks, the end of the school year looming and they kept bumping into each other. in the corridor as alessia carried her books in her arms.

at the athletic center when harrison was nursing a sore shoulder. in the library when neither of them were studying but both of them pretended they were.

it was easy with him. too easy and that's what scared her.

they became friends at first - sort of. harrison would show up at her matches, yelling loud enough for half the  crowd to hear as alessia claimed she only went to his games for the nachos but really her heart raced every time he made a big play.

one of the last games before the big final, alessia's team lost. alessia missing a crucial goal which ultimately probably cost them the game.

harrison was the one that found her sitting alone on the bleachers showered as her wet hair sat on her jumper.

"rough game," he winced as he sat next to her as he put a arm around her pulling her into a comforting hug which he knew she needed.

alessia sighed, as she leaned into him more, "yep, i missed an open goal."

"eh, you'll get the next one" his voice was softer than usual, not the usual cocky confidence he wore like it was amour.

for a moment they just sat there, the lights from the field buzzing faintly. alessia tilting her head to loot at him, "why do you even care?"

harrison hesitated, a small smile tugging at his lips, "maybe i like you"

the words just hung in the air, heavy and warm as alessia just blinked. "maybe?" she teased, but her pulse hammered in her throat.

"okay.. definitely" he admitted after a moment of silence, a grin creeping onto his face, "so what do you say soccer star? let me take you out sometime?"

"football. it's football."

"soccer. your in the states now less"

as she shook her head leaving the debate for another time and against her better judgement or maybe because of it — alessia smiled, "your impossible, you know that?"

"and yet your still haven't walked away."

that was the start, they started hanging out more after that. coffee dates between classes even though they'd both get a smoothie. late night calls when the pressure of school and sports became too much.

sneaking out to the quad when they should've been asleep, laughing about everything and nothing and supporting each other at the others games.

but it wasn't always easy. there were arguments, about missed plans, about the attention harrison got from other girls, about how alessia always seemed to put soccer first. the two being too stubborn for their own good.

in the end that was what made it work, the moments which weren't perfect, the times they argued they then made up and were stronger than ever. the late night cuddles and morning practices.

the way harrison would bring her a smoothie after every game, whether they won or lost.

so by the time their final year rolled around, everyone knew they were the package deal. alessia and harrison. the soccer star girl and football hero. two athletes who would do anything to win, but hopeless when it came to each other.

—

haz | 'can't wait to see you tonight, gonna get us a takeout from that taco place you love!'

her chest tightened as she looked at the message, harrison was everything she wanted in a boyfriend, charming supportive and ambitious.

but they'd never talked about kids or families or anything remotely close to this. from their late night chats they talked about their dreams of travelling the world and becoming the best at what they did.

children? that's was a word which never even entered the conversation. and she knew - she just knew this was going to be something he wasn't going to be ready for.

so she did the only thing she could think of. text her best friends: emily and lotte.

—

emily and lotte arrived within minutes, their concern palpable the moment they stepped into alessia's dorm room.

"less? what's wrong?" emily asked frantically dropping her gym bag by the door. lotte following close behind.

lotte, the over observant, noticed alessia's tear stealer face and the white stick lying on the desk. "oh less.." she said softly sitting beside her.

alessia took a shaky breath. "i'm pregnant." she said the words tasting foreign and heavy leaving her lips.

emily's jaw dropped, her expression quickly morphing into one of concern and determination. "okay, deep breath. we've got you, whatever you need. we're here for you, less."

"i don't know what to do," alessia admitted her voice quiet and shaky, "harrison's not ready for this. and my parents? there gonna be so disappointed."

lotte placed a comforting hand on alessia's knee. "first things first, you're not alone in this. no matter what you decide, we're with you. but you need to talk to harrison. you can't carry this on your own."

alessia knew they were right, no matter how strong she thought she was. she couldn't carry the weight of that on her own.

—

later that evening, harrison arrived at alessia's dorm his usual easy smile in place. he set out the takeout bags on her desk, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "what's up baby? you look like you've had a rough day."

alessia's stomach churned, rough day was certainly one way to put it. she motioned for him to sit on the bed, her hands twisting the hem of her hoodie. "haz, i need to tell you something and it's.. big."

his playful unserious demeanour faded, as his face paled, "you're scaring me less, what is it?"

she took a deep breath, looking at him with such fear as she bit her lips, "i'm pregnant."

for a moment, harrison froze, his expression unreadable. then he ran a hand though his hair, letting out a shaky laugh, "wait, are you serious?"

alessia nodded, her eyes welling up.

"wow," he muttered, standing up and pacing the small room, "this.. this wasn't supposed to happen. alessia we aren't ready for this. we barely managing school and soccer as it is."

"i know," she said quietly, "but it's happening, haz. we have to figure out what to do."

he turned to face her, his expression filled with frustration and fear, "look, i'm sorry but i can't do this. a kid? now? we are only twenty for god sake. i just started getting noticed in football. this would ruin everything - for both of us."

his words hit her like a punch to the gut, "ruin everything?" she repeated, her voice cracking.

"i'm not saying it's your fault," he said quickly, "but think about it less, we have our whole lives ahead of us. you've got the england squad, you're one of the best young players at the minute. a baby is gonna change everything, it's not the right time."

alessia just stared at him, her chest tightening with every word, she couldn't believe his words. "so what are you saying? you don't want to keep the baby?"

harrison hesitated, her silence speaking volumes. "i'm saying... i don't think we should."

alessia felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, she had known the conversation would be difficult. she had braced herself for his shock, his panic. but hearing him say it out loud 'i don't think we should' felt like a knife to the heart.

her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of her hoodie as she swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. "haz, this is our baby. my baby. i can't just pretend this isn't happening."

harrison exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "less, come on be realistic. a baby means we'd have to give everything up. football, school, our future - everything we've worked for. we aren't ready for this." his voice was desperate, like he was trying to make her see reason, but all alessia could hear was rejection.

"you think i don't know that?" she shot back, her voice trembling. "you think i haven't spent every second since i found out thinking about how this changes everything? but it's happening haz, whether we're ready or not."

harrison let out a frustrated sigh and turned away from her pacing again. his usual confidence, his easy charm - gone. now he just looked scared. "there are.. options," he said hesitantly. "we could-"

"no." her voice was quick and firm and when he looked at her, she shook her head. "i can't. i won't."

he stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tightening, "you're sure?"

tears burned at the corner of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, "i've never been more sure of anything."

harrison exhaled sharply, hands on his hips as he looked away. the silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. when he finally turned back, his expression, again unreadable but his next words shattered her completely. in more ways that one.

"then i don't know if i can do this, less."

"what?"

her stomach dropped. he ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling shakily. "i'm not ready to be a dad. i can't be a dad." his voice cracked, but he pressed on. "and if you're keeping it... i don't know how to be part of that."

alessia felt like the floor had disappeared beneath her, her entire body felt cold, numb. "so, what? you're just going to leave?"

harrison's face twisted in anguish, but he didn't answer. that answer was enough.

alessia let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "okay," she whispered. "if that's how you feel.. then go."

"less..”

"no," she cut him off, wrapping her arms around herself. "you made your choice. i'll figure this out on my own."

harrison hesitated for a second, like he might say something else. alessia's silently hoping he would say something else. but instead, he grabbed his hoodie and moved towards the door.

he paused for a fraction of a second, then walked out, closing it softly behind him.

the moment he was gone, the first sob broke free from alessia's chest. she curled up on the bed, clutching her stomach, her heart shattering.

she had never felt so alone.

—

alessia lay on her bed, she felt numb. sitting on the bed as his words replayed in her mind.

not ready.

not the right time.

ruin everything.

alessia had managed to find the energy to message emily and lotte. so when they arrived alessia was still sitting there with tears streaming down her face.

"he doesn't want to keep it," she whispered as emily wrapped her in a tight comforting hug.

"of course he doesn't," emily said, her voice tinged with anger but also comfort, the type alessia was craving. "he's a twenty yet old boy who is scared out of his mind. but this isn't just his decision."

lotte crouched in front of alessia, her voice calm and steady. "less, what do you want? not harrison, not anyone else - you. this is your life, your body, your future."

"i don't know," alessia admitted, her voice breaking. "i feel like everything i’ve worked for is slipping away. but.. i also can't imagine just walking away for this. it's a part of me."

emily squeezed her should. "then that’s all that matters. you'll figure it out, and we'll be here every step of the way. harrison doesn't get to decide your future — you do."

alessia's breath shuddered as she leaned into emily's embrace, gripping the fabric of her friend's hoodie like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. the weight of the moment was crushing, pressing down on her chest until it felt like she could barely breathe.

she had spent years building herself into the player she was today - grueling training sessions, sacrifices, endless hours on the pitch. football had been her whole life for as long as she could remember.

and now.. everything felt uncertain.

"i don't know what to do," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "i don't even know how to begin figuring it out."

lotte, still crouched in front of her, took her hands in hers giving them a reassuring squeeze. "you don't have to figure it all out tonight, less. you just have to take it one step at a time."

"but what if i can't do it?" alessia's voice cracked, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "what if i ruin everything - for myself, for my career, for this baby."

emily pulled back slightly, her expression fierce. "listen to me. your alessia russo. destined to be one of the best footballers in the world, the hardest working, most determined person i know. if there is anyone can handle this, it's you."

"but what if he's right?" alessia asked, her voice raw, "what if this really does ruin everything?"

lotte shook her head, "it won't. it'll change things - yes. but that doesn't mean your dreams are over. your not alone in this less, we'll figure this out together."

alessia sniffled, looking between her two best friends. the unwavering support in their eyes made something shift inside of her - like a tiny sliver of hope breaking through the overwhelming fear."

she exhaled shakily. "i just.. i thought he'd be here for me. that we'd figure it out together."

emily's jaw tightened. "if he can't handle being here when things get hard, then he doesn't deserve to be here at all."

lotte nodded. "you don't have to do this alone, even if he's gone. you have us. and whatever you decide, we're with you - every step of the way."

for the first time since harrison had walked out, alessia felt the smallest bit of steadiness return to her. she was still terrified, still completely unsure of what the future held.

but at least she wasn't alone.

[hoe4hotchner]

Retirement | [A.H]

Pairing: Retired!Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Nothing but cuteness

A/N: Don't worry, Hotch is not an old man he's like late 50's early 60's in this based on Jack being in college ;)

The porch was bathed in the golden light from the afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the wooden planks. The gentle creak of the rocking chair kept rhythm with the distant hum of cicadas, a sound that had become so familiar it felt like part of the air itself.

A soft breeze carried the scent of summer—freshly cut grass, the lingering sweetness of honeysuckle climbing the trellis, and the faint, smoky remnants of the firewood stacked near the house.

You leaned against Hotch’s chest, his arms loosely draped around your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns on your bare legs. The warmth of him seeped into you. You let out a content sigh, snuggling further into his chest.

It had been six months since he left the BAU. Six months of long walks through the countryside, of mornings spent in bed with no reason to rush, of rediscovering a man who had spent years sacrificing himself for the safety of others.

At first, the transition had been difficult. Aaron had been hesitant, unsure of who he was outside of the job, as though his identity had been stitched together by the cases, the late nights, the endless chase of justice.

He had been restless, waking up at odd hours as though his body still expected the call of duty. Some nights, you had found him on the porch, staring into the darkness, lost in thought. And other's you had found him sitting in the kitchen, his phone open on either JJ or Emily's contact in his phone, debating whether he should check in and see how everything was going without him.

But in this almost sanctuary you had built together, he had begun to unravel—layer by layer, breath by breath. The sharp edges of stress had softened, the lines around his mouth no longer weighed down by exhaustion. He still carried the past with him, no doubt he'd always have it with him, but it no longer defined him.

Your legs stretched over his lap, the warmth of his hands resting against your skin. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knee, and you smiled, closing your eyes as the wind tousled your hair.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, edged with that lingering gravel that had always made your stomach flip.

You hummed in response. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You tilted your head back, meeting his eyes. The sunlight hit them just right, turning the brown into something lighter, warmer. “How much I love you.”

His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile appearing as he squeezed your thigh. “You always get sentimental when we sit out here.”

“Can you blame me?” you teased, running your fingers through the graying strands at his temple. “Look at this. It’s peaceful. I never thought we’d have something like this.”

He exhaled, long and slow. “Neither did I.”

There was something about the way he said it, the weight behind the words, that made your chest tighten. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “Are you happy, Aaron?”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze soft but intent. “More than I ever thought possible.”

You kissed his shoulder, letting the moment stretch, settling into the quiet contentment that came so easily now.

You tilted your head slightly against him, voice soft as you asked, "How's Jack?"

Aaron exhaled, a small, fond smile pulling at his lips as he continued tracing patterns against your skin. "I talked to him yesterday," he said, his voice warm with pride. "He sounds happy. Settling into college well, making friends. He even mentioned joining an intramural soccer team."

Your smile widened at that. "That’s wonderful. He always did love playing." You recalled the games Aaron had invited you to when Jack was only a young boy

Hotch nodded, the tension he once carried about Jack leaving for college no longer evident in his expression. "He said his classes are challenging but interesting. And he likes his professors."

You ran your fingers gently along his arm, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. "He’s thriving, then. Just like you wanted."

Aaron let out a quiet chuckle. "Just like we wanted. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. I think Haley would be proud."

You squeezed his hand, understanding the weight of his words. "She would be. You’ve raised a good man, Aaron."

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, silent gratitude passing between you. You let the moment settle between you, filled with warmth and love.

A rustling sound caught your attention, and when you glanced to the side, a small smile pulled at your lips. “Aaron,” you whispered, nudging him lightly. “Look.”

He followed your gaze, and there, across the wooden railing of the porch, a handful of ladybugs had gathered, their tiny, spotted bodies crawling along the grain of the wood. One took flight, landing on your outstretched hand.

Hotch chuckled. “Looks like you’re a favorite today.”

You watched the little insect as it wandered across your palm. “You know, my grandmother used to say ladybugs were good luck.”

“Did she?” He tilted his head, watching as another landed near his wrist. “Mmhm.” You met his eyes, a teasing glint in yours. “I think it’s a sign.” He arched a brow. “Of what?”

“That this—” you gestured around you, at the house, the land, the life you had built together— “was always meant to be.”

His expression softened. He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers. “I don’t need a sign to know that.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant chirping of birds, the whisper of leaves rustling in the breeze, and the steady rise and fall of Aaron’s breath. He had a way of making the world feel smaller, simpler—of making you feel like the only thing that mattered.

“Jack texted earlier by the way,” he murmured after a moment, remembering something he had forgotten to tell you when you asked about him. “Said he wants to come up next weekend.”

Your heart warmed at the mention of a visit. “That sounds perfect. Maybe we can take him fishing.”

Hotch’s lips quirked. “You still think you can out-fish me?”

You grinned. “Oh, I don’t think—I know.”

He chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. “We’ll see about that.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you leaned back against him, letting the moment settle deep into your bones.

The world felt softer here, free of the chaos and darkness that had once consumed so much of your lives.

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi Molly!! Happy (early) valentines!! I wuv you 🥹 Entry for your sweethearts game:

Curtis Everett + Get Lost 💖

a permanent brand

pairing: mechanic!curtis everett x female reader

summary: on valentine's day, you decide to do something special, something a little outside the norm, and head to a rough biker bar, where you catch the icy blue eye of a particular mechanic.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, consensual non-consent and free use dynamics, established bdsm dynamics (including safe words/signals, check-ins, and a pre-negotiated scene), rough body play, dacryphilia, choking, biting, restraint, brief spanking, rough tit/nipple play, dirty talk, heavy degradation kink, objectification kink, praise kink, pet names (princess, baby), aftercare, established relationship—though the exact nature of their relationship is a surprise at the end 🤭

word count: 4.4k

a/n: ahh Chi!! i wuv you too, thank you for sending in this prompt!! (insert obvious apology that i'm getting to it so late after valentine's day but it couldn't be helped 😅) i wanted to write something a little darker and meaner for a change of pace from my other v-day fics, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity—but it still has a very sweet, fluffy ending because i'm a sucker for a happy ending! thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

The smell of motor oil and sex filled the air, along with the obscene sounds of Curtis Everett driving into you from behind, his hips snapping against your ass mercilessly while you were bent over his motorcycle. Your shoulders ached from the rough way Curtis had your wrists pinned to your lower back, but the pain paled in comparison to the pleasure of his wicked strokes.

“Get lost? You don’t fucking tell me to get lost.”

Curtis’s voice was little more than a furious snarl as he curled over your back, pounding into you harder and shoving the fingers of his free hand into your mouth. He made sure you didn’t have a hope of responding to his raging words—not that you could’ve formed a thought anyway, you were so far gone in his ruthless treatment of your body.

His fingers pressed down on your tongue and gripped your chin brutally hard, bracing your body while he fucked into you from the back. Your desperate sounds were muffled by his fingers, the crude way he held you causing spit to dribble down your chin and fall in sticky drops to the concrete floor. 

Curtis’s grip on your wrists, restraining them to your lower back, his fingers shoved into your mouth, and his big, broad body pinning you across the seat of his motorcycle meant that you couldn’t move an inch. All you could do was make muffled, pitiful sounds of need while he railed you. All you could do was take it.

The fingers in your mouth pushed deeper, forcing you to choke and gag as they brushed against the back of your throat, which only made your pussy clench harder around Curtis’s cock. A deep grunt ghosted against the bare skin of your back and Curtis’s sweaty forehead fell to your spine, between your shoulder blades, his hips slowing like he was savoring the slick, wet heat of your cunt.

“Ya might’ve told me to get lost, princess,” Curtis growled, “But I’m gonna fuck this slutty pussy until it’s ruined—you’re gonna be feeling my filthy cock in your cunt for fucking days by the time I’m done with you.”

His beard brushed against your sweat-damp skin a moment before he sank his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, making your whole body clench tight in response. Your pussy squeezed his cock so hard, he groaned and nearly slipped out, but he shoved himself back in, pressing his hips flush against your ass and grinding his cock into your cunt.

Your hushed sob was stifled by Curtis’s fingers in your mouth, pressing against your tongue so roughly, you could taste the salt of his skin and the lingering leather of the gloves he wore riding his motorcycle back to the garage. 

It was so vulgar, having his fingers shoved in your mouth while his cock split you open and he growled filthy, degrading things in your ear, that your pussy gushed with even more arousal. 

And you couldn’t help but remember how you’d gotten yourself into this situation. 

It was Valentine’s Day, and you’d wanted to do something special. You’d wanted a night with a man who wouldn’t be gentle with you, who’d treat you like his own personal fucktoy. So you’d gotten yourself all dolled up in your sluttiest outfit, and went to the local biker bar.

Once there, you’d hesitated, but for only a moment, knowing your plan reckless and veering into dangerous, but you had contingencies if the night took a wrong turn. So you sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cold night air filling your lungs and giving you the fortitude you needed, and pushed into the bar. 

You felt Curtis Everett’s cold, merciless gaze find you immediately. Blue as ice and sharp as knives, his eyes followed you as you sauntered into the dingy establishment, his attention making it easy for you to throw your shoulders back, stick out your tits and put some extra sway in your ass as you made your way to the bar.

As you walked, you noticed your presence garnered much more attention than just Curtis’s. 

Your leather jacket did little to hide the fact that you were wearing a low cut crop top with nothing underneath, your nipples unmistakable through the thin cotton. And your skirt was so short, your heels so high, they bordered on obscene. You looked, to all the men in that biker bar, like a woman who wanted to get fucked.

However, there was only one man who’d be fucking you that night, and it was Curtis Everett. Thankfully, you were confident he’d make sure of it. 

The attention of so many pairs of eyes settled heavily around your shoulders as you stepped up to the bar and leaned over it, getting the bartender’s attention and ordering a drink. The move pushed your tits out and made your skirt ride up the back of your thighs, offering a teasing glimpse at the curve of your ass—just enough for anyone looking hard enough to see you weren’t wearing any panties.

Curtis, of course, noticed, since he was watching you so closely. Then, you could feel the energy in the bar crackle with tension the moment he realized other men were noticing as well. He stood from his seat in the corner, where he’d been nursing a beer while he waited for you, and made his way to the bar.

You tried to keep the interest off your face as you raked your eyes over Curtis’s tall form, taking in his close-cropped dark hair, his bright, icy blue eyes and his thick, bristly beard. His shoulders were broad and he was tall, towering over everyone in the bar.

He’d dressed the part of a sleazy mechanic, with a leather jacket thrown over a dirty, white t-shirt and filthy work pants. There were even streaks of oil and grime on his face, like he’d wiped his brow with a dirty rag, and refused to clean up after his work day. 

Still, Curtis’s handsomeness shown through, and your body responded to him, warming as he leaned against the bar beside you. He was far too close to be polite, but you didn’t move away; you leaned in, letting the scent of oil and leather fill your body with excitement for what was to come.

“Get lost,” you forced yourself to say, dragging your eyes away from Curtis’s face, and tossing your head haughtily. It took every ounce of your self-control to pretend like you didn’t want the dirty mechanic beside you, but it was important for you to play your role.

You flashed a flirty smile at the bartender when he deposited your drink, delighting in the way Curtis’s body bristled when the man’s eyes lingered a little too long on your tits. Curtis pressed closer into your side, one of his hands falling possessively to your lower back. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me, princess?” The pet name was spit from his mouth with so much condescension, it made your breath catch in your throat as you forced yourself not to cower. 

Instead, you cocked your head to the side and gave him an imperious look out. You went so far as to rake your gaze over him dismissively before turning your nose up at him—which was a feat, considering he was so much bigger and taller than you, even in your heels. 

“You heard me, grease monkey,” you said scornfully, enunciating your words perfectly and making sure your voice didn’t waver. Only your fingers, fidgeting with the cold glass of your drink on the bar, belied the slight tremor of anxiety you felt talking to Curtis this way. “Get. Lost.”

You put as much venom as you could muster into the words and cut your eyes to the dirty mechanic, searching his face for his reaction. It was immediately clear that Curtis didn’t like you telling him to get lost. He didn’t like it at all.

“You’re going to regret that, princess,” Curtis growled, his tone dark and mean. His fingers wrapped around your upper arm and, using his palm on your lower back, he spun you around and pushed you, none too gently, toward the door of the biker bar. 

You were so shocked by how easily Curtis manhandled and maneuvered you out of the bar, that it wasn’t until the chilly February air hit your burning cheeks that you remembered you were supposed to be putting up a fight. But no matter how hard you tugged against the iron grip of Curtis’s fingers around your arm, you couldn’t free yourself.

You liked that. You liked the fact that the more you fought, and the more Curtis showed you his strength, the more turned on you got. That only made you put up more of a fight, your feet kicking up dust as you tried to dig your heels into the dirt and gravel parking lot, but it wasn’t any use.

Curtis’s unyielding grip never flagged as he dragged you toward his bike in the corner of the parking lot. He was so much stronger than you, and he pulled you along easily, ignoring you while you made a fuss—though you didn’t call for help, of course, because you weren’t actually trying to stop Curtis from taking you home.

When you got to his motorcycle, Curtis pushed you against it, your hips pinned to the big, metal beast while he pressed his thick bulge against your ass. You sucked in a sharp breath, the sound loud in the silent night, and felt the fight drain from your body entirely as wetness began to drip from your damp slit down your thighs. 

“Are you going to behave, princess,” Curtis spit out, his hands wrapped around your arms, holding your back to his heaving chest as he worked to keep his temper leashed. “Or am I going to have to teach you lesson right here in the parking lot?” 

Curtis ground his bulge into your ass lewdly, and you shuddered in his hold, arching your spine to push back against him. He felt so big and hard through his pants, and your pussy was aching desperately to be filled with every thick inch of him.

When you didn’t respond to his question, Curtis pressed his mouth close to your ear, growling, “Do I need to put you on your knees and skullfuck the attitude outta you?”

A delicious whimper fell from your lips and you shook your head wildly. The gravel would be hell on your knees, and though another night that might’ve sounded appealing, you were too eager for Curtis to get you back to his garage so he could fuck you properly. 

“Good slut,” Curtis rumbled, affection bleeding into the coldness of his tone like he couldn’t help it. 

Before you could comment on it, Curtis was using his big, strong hands to manhandle you onto his motorcycle, getting you settled in the seat before he threw a booted foot over the bike and sat behind you. 

He was close enough that you could feel his bulge press against your lower back, and you squirmed deeper into his lap. A smile curled your lips when you trapped his hardness between your bodies, ensuring you could feel him on the entire ride home. 

Curtis grabbed a helmet from where it had been stowed in a saddlebag, but before he pulled it down over your head, he ducked close. His lips and coarse beard brushed against your soft cheek as he spoke in a low tone.

“Are you having fun, baby?”

The sweet affection in his tone had your muscles loosening, tension you hadn’t even realized had been gathering in your shoulders draining out of you at the question. You leaned back into Curtis’s chest, inhaling the familiar scent of oil and leather that always clung to him, and you let yourself grin.

“So much,” you purred huskily, turning your face up and pressing it into his thick beard. You nuzzled into the coarse hair, delighting in the rasp of it, until you were sure he could feel your smile against the underside of his jaw. “We might need to make this a Valentine’s Day tradition,” you murmured playfully, your words slightly muffled.

Curtis chuckled, his hand wrapping loosely around your throat, just under your jaw, and dragging you away from his beard. Then he pulled you in for a kiss over your shoulder, his lips moving sweetly against your mouth before he eased you away.

“We can discuss that later,” he said, a smirk curving his mouth. “After you’ve seen how dirty and rough your filthy mechanic can fuck you.” His blue eyes were sparkling with hunger and mischief as he tugged the helmet over your head and made sure it was secure before putting on his own.

Then Curtis started up the motorcycle and ripped the engine loudly, making the metal beast rumble deliciously between your thighs. He pulled out of the bar’s parking lot in a spray of gravel that had your heart racing with excitement and he peeled off toward his garage.

When you got there, Curtis kept up his gentle treatment only long enough to get your helmet off and toss both it and his aside. Then he was manhandling you roughly off the bike, ignoring the way your legs kicked aimlessly and your nails scoured into his leather jacket as he dragged you from the seat. 

He’d made quick work of pulling off your leather jacket and bending you over the motorcycle before pushing your skirt up and delivering a harsh slap to your bare ass. He’d laughed at your slightly outraged cry, then kicked your feet wide and shoved his hard bulge into your sensitive pussy. 

You’d moaned obscenely at the rough rasp of his jeans, thankful that Curtis’s garage was on the edge of town since it meant you could be as loud as you wanted, and gave yourself over to his merciless whims.

Before he’d truly begun, Curtis bent over your back, pressing kisses up your spine, and gripped your chin firmly. He guided you to meet his eye over your shoulder.

“Remember, all you have to do to stop me is say red, or pinch me anywhere you can reach,” Curtis had reminded you, his handsome face serious as he recounted the rules you’d negotiated when you’d discussed the scene you wanted to play out on Valentine’s Day. “Say yellow or tap me repeatedly if you want me to check in.”

“Yes, sir,” you’d said with a nod, showing Curtis the same level of seriousness. But your excitement couldn’t be contained for long, and you’d ducked your head, sucking Curtis’s thumb into your mouth, giving him a bratty nip before pulling back and tossing over your shoulder, “Bring it on, grease monkey.”

Curtis’s eyes had gone dark and stormy and he hadn’t wasted any more time, pulling out his cock and slamming into you without preamble. 

It was a good thing you were already drenched and ready for him, your pussy slick from the game you’d been playing and the rumbling of his motorcycle on the ride home, because it meant he slid home with only a slight twinge at the sudden fullness. 

Then he’d set about his task of making you regret telling him to get lost, fucking you rough and hard, bent over his motorcycle, his hands pulling your tits free from your top to sway with the movement of his thrusts. 

When you’d tried to dig your nails into his thighs and pull him closer, he’d pinned them to your lower back with one of his big hands, loose enough that you could use your safe signals if you wanted. His other hand had slid up your neck before shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“This is what you fucking deserve,” Curtis growled, bringing you back to the present moment with his harsh words and the cruel way he hooked his fingers in the side of your mouth. It forced you to make a dumb face, which only made you wetter, your arousal dripping obscenely down your spread thighs. “You dress like a whore and treat me like dirt, you’re gonna get fucked like the pathetic slut that you are.”

A ridiculously needy sound fell from your lips, nearly unintelligible with the way Curtis had your mouth contorted, but you couldn’t help it. It was depraved how good he was making you feel, with the rough, brutal strokes of his cock and the ease with which he degraded you with his hands and his words.

“And you know what’s so fucking funny—deep down, I know you want this,” Curtis went on, his voice a rough rasp as it met your ears with just as much ruthlessness as he fucked you. “You want to be treated like a filthy slut whose only purpose in life is using the three holes in your body to make my cock feel good.” 

Curtis shoved his cock and his fingers deep inside you at the same time, making you choke and moan while pleasure swirled mercilessly through your body. You were proving his point, but he didn’t seem happy about it.

“Isn’t that right, princess?” Curtis seethed, his beard rasping over the tender spot on your shoulder where he’d bitten you, making your whole body tremble beneath his larger form. “Your only purpose is to make my cock feel good?”

At the same moment as he uttered the question, Curtis shoved the rest of his four fingers into your mouth, stretching your lips obscenely and making your pussy clench down on his cock. It felt like he was everywhere, and yet it still wasn’t enough, you wanted more. 

You sobbed, unable to answer him in any other way, tears beginning to fall from your lashes and trickle down your cheeks. It was the only sign you could give him to continue, to keep being rough and brutal with your body and keep treating you like a slut.

Curtis laughed meanly, thrusting his fingers into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue, your sobs turning into obscene, babbling sounds of pleasure. 

“Don’t worry, princess, you don’t have to deny it—at least, not to me,” he said patronizingly, keeping up the one-sided conversation while he fucked your bent-over body. “I can feel how wet you are for me. I can feel your greedy cunt sucking my cock deeper when I remind you you’re just a fucktoy for me.” 

Letting go of your wrists, Curtis reached around to your front and groped your tits roughly, kneading your soft flesh and pinching and pulling on your nipples until you were crying out and pushing back on his cock. 

You didn’t move your hands from where they were, your fingers wrapping around opposite wrists to hold yourself pinned in the position Curtis had put you in. You loved the helplessness of it, you loved being at Curtis’s mercy—it was depraved and deviant and so fucking delicious, you couldn’t get enough.

“All ya gotta do is take my cock, princess, and you’re doing it so fucking well because you were made for this, weren’t you?” Curtis went on, growling in your ear. 

He paused only to drag his tongue up the side of your throat, licking your sweat from your skin and groaning in pleasure. Inside you, you could feel his cock throb like he was getting close. When he spoke again, his voice was impossibly lower, deeper, meaner.

“You were made to take cock and make me feel good, right, princess?”

His fingers finally ripped free from your mouth, leaving you to gasp for air while they wrapped around your throat, choking you lightly as he kept pounding into you from behind. His heavy body pressed down against your back, pinning you more firmly to the seat of his motorcycle, his hips working his cock deep with every thrust.

“Tell me, dirty slut, tell me how much you like getting fucked hard and rough by the filthy grease monkey after you told me to get lost,” Curtis ordered, his voice lashing out at you with its fury. 

“I love it,” you sobbed, pleasure coursing through your body in almost devastating waves as he fucked you brutally, his cock splitting you open and leaving a permanent brand on your pussy. 

It felt so good that it had you babbling mindlessly, responding to all the filthy things Curtis had said, “I love your cock, I was made for your cock, I’m just a set of holes for you to use.”

“Good girl,” Curtis rumbled in your ear, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck enough to make your vision swim, the gray concrete of the garage floor going murky before your eyes. “Good fucking girl, good fucking slut.” His other hand slapped and groped your tits, playing with them like they were simply toys. “You’re my fucktoy aren’t you, princess?”

“Yes, yes, I’m your fucktoy,” you responded obediently, tears and spit dripping down your face and darkening the floor beneath you. “I’m your cocksleeve, your fuck doll—use me, use me, use me, please!”

“That’s it, know your place, princess,” Curtis gritted out through a clenched jaw. His cock was twitching violently in your pussy and your own pleasure was coiling tightly in your belly, ready to snap. “Now cum on my cock, slut—show me you belong to me by squirting all over my dick like a good whore.”

Curtis’s hand abandoned your tits and shoved beneath your hips, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly while he choked you and slammed his cock deep into your cunt. 

You were gone before you could even take in a breath, pleasure crashing over your body in overwhelming waves as you came, a scream tearing from your throat and ricocheting around the garage. 

Above you, Curtis grunted and groaned into the curve at the base of your neck, his hips rutting into your body so hard the motorcycle rocked precariously on its kickstand. 

With one final thrust, Curtis shoved his hips against your ass, burying his cock so deep in your pussy, you thought you could feel him in your guts. His teeth sank into your shoulder again, biting you while he came viciously.

His cock throbbed and twitched in your pussy, sparking another wave of pleasure to sweep through your core, making you moan loudly as your cunt milked all the cum from his dick. Curtis emptied his balls inside you, flooding your pussy with cum while he rocked his hips against your ass.

“Good girl, good slut, so fucking perfect,” he murmured as he came down from his high. His fingers eased from your neck and he brushed soft kisses to the places where he’d bitten you. His tongue lapped at the indents of his teeth, soothing the sting and making you sigh softly in contentment. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning your head and brushing a kiss to Curtis’s sweaty forehead. You felt him smile against your shoulder blade, his beard teasing your sweat-slick skin as he pressed kisses along your spine. 

Before you could grow too uncomfortable in your position, Curtis eased himself up, his strong hands supporting your weight as he lifted you from the motorcycle seat. Gently, his softening cock pulled from your well-used pussy, and Curtis bit back a groan, the sound rumbling low in his throat, as his cum spilled down your thighs. 

“You look so pretty with my cum leaking out of you, baby,” Curtis rumbled in a deeply pleased tone that made you smile and laugh lightly. 

“Take me home and you can push it back inside before filling me up with another load,” you quipped, your voice still breathless from the orgasm that had wracked your body. 

Your humor was short-lived, a moan spilling from your lips when Curtis began massaging your shoulders. His calloused fingers methodically kneaded at your muscles, easing the ache of having your hands pinned behind your back for so long. 

“You ok, baby?” Curtis asked while he worked, turning you around so you could sit on the motorcycle and lean against his chest. You buried your face in his neck and breathed him in, letting your body relax under his tender ministrations. 

“Yeah,” you answered on a happy sigh. “That was fun.” 

Your words dissolved into a pleased giggle when you thought back on all that you and Curtis had said and done to each other that night. It had been very fun, and very pleasurable indeed. You absolutely wanted a repeat, and would be talking to Curtis about making it a tradition.

“I’m glad you had fun, baby,” Curtis rumbled, his hands working down your arms. He lifted your left hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the base of your ring finger. There, Curtis’s full name was inked as a permanent brand of your love and devotion to one another. 

Happiness surged in your heart and you threaded your fingers through Curtis’s, turning his hand so you could press a sweet kiss to the same spot—where your full name was inked around his ring finger. Curtis’s other arm banded around your lower back, holding you close. 

“Ready to go home, wife?” Curtis asked, and you nodded against your shoulder, where your head had fallen as exhaustion washed over you. “Ready to let me take care of you?”

A smile curved your lips and you nodded again. “Take me home, husband,” you said softly, the frayed edge of sleep seeping into your voice. 

Curtis chuckled indulgently, letting you rest for a moment before he hauled you into his arms and helped you walk from the garage to the house behind it where you lived.

For the rest of the evening, Curtis took care of you, cleaning you up—along with himself—and feeding you chocolate before wrapping you up in his arms beneath the blankets of your bed. It was tender and sweet, all the things Curtis was in your everyday life.

Before you fell asleep together, and as you’d promised him, Curtis fucked another load into your pussy. His movements were gentle and reverent, and he whispered sweet words in your ear about how much he loved you, his big hand splayed possessively over your belly.

It was a very special Valentine’s Day, and the game you’d played did become a tradition. Curtis Everett had left a permanent brand on your heart and your skin, and he reminded you of it each year when you told him to get lost and he proved he’d never leave.

sweethearts game masterlist

[forsaire]

I turned talking about video game inaccuracies into something sickeningly sweet. Enjoy 😊 @crunchybeards

---

“Johnny, what are you doing? I’ve been waiting-”

But Ghost abruptly stopped talking as he rounded the corner.

Sitting on the couch with his body intensely leaning forward and his eyes squinted in focused determination that Ghost was familiar with seeing when they were on a mission – or when trying to cook – was Soap. The controller in his hands looked small compared to him and the light from the television flickered across his face.

“What are you doing?” Ghost asked.

“Just playing a shooter that one of the recruits gave me,” Soap replied, his eyes zipping across the screen.

Ghost glanced up to see bodies clad in camo military gear running forward towards a diamond point in the distance, Soap’s character following behind them. A flurry of gunshots rang out and the right side of his screen was splattered with streaking red. The character quickly slid to duck behind cover and look through the scope of their sniper rifle.

“You don’t get enough of this in real life?” Ghost asked, crossing his arms. Soap then cursed under his breath and shifted forward. “Evidently not.”

Ghost turned his attention back to the screen. The outline of the gun in the corner had a name, though from Ghost’s memory, it was the shadow of a completely different gun. The magazine size was odd too and when Soap looked into the scope again, there was something a bit off about the lines. He listened for a moment as the characters spoke out to each other – granted it was an American game – but the acronyms were also not familiar.

“It doesn’t bother you how inaccurate all these games are?” Ghost asked. “I understand the 18 year old civilian not giving a shite, but you at least know better. When are you coming to bed?”

Soap shrugged. “I don’t think about it much. Half of the time they’re talking bullocks but I don’t pay attention to the story. I’m just here to…got ya! Blow off a couple heads. They explode much nicer than in real life. Tons of ammo. A dog companion. Enemies showing up on the map. What more could you want?”

“Reality.”

Soap scoffed. “You need to make a more compelling argument.”

Ghost walked behind the couch. “You know what else the real world has?” He gently took Soap’s head in his hands and tilted it backwards, capturing Soap’s lips as he let out a surprised huff. But only a second later, Soap closed his eyes and leaned into it, his hand reaching up to grab at Ghost’s hair. Ghost pulled back ever so slightly, enamored by Soap’s shining blue eyes and pink lips. “Me.” He ran a hand down Soap’s throat. “Now come to bed.”

A loud grunt pulled both of their attentions back to the screen and a bloody game over wiped across the television. Soap sighed.

“You killed me.”

“If you don’t get in bed with me right now, I’ll kill you for real.”

The smallest, amused smirk pulled at Soap’s lips.

“Yes, sir.”

With two hands that easily linked back up with one another again, Ghost and Soap headed back to their room, Ghost ready to show Soap just how good reality could be.

[astrasng]

Refined Secret - Who's better sweetheart?||L.J N.J

→ summary: you're having your wedding night with your loving husband, jeno. you feel so guilty for having a secret relationship with his best friend, but somehow jeno plays into your little game?

→ pairing: husband!jeno x fem!reader x jaemin

→ wc: 3.8k

→ warning: smut || threesome, jeno is mad, jaemin is tied up (:P) oj male receiving, gagging, unprotected sex, ENTERING THE BACK DOOR (iykyk), petnames (baby, angel,sweetheart, slut.) swearing

→ a/n: here it is!!! i'm so glad so many people liked the first part with only jaemin, so if you are here from that post thank you for staying and waiting for a part 2!! first part is here, if you haven’t read it yet! this was my first time writing a threesome so excuse me some mistakes or something is not understandable. but, as always,

enjoy!♡

 It was supposed to be your happiest moment in your entire life. Not the most thrilling one. You almost feel your body giving up as your eyes are trained on Jeno leaning against a hotel table in your rented room. 

   You knew it well that what you are doing, is fucked up. The heavy feeling on your heart always makes you want to sob out a cry when you see Jaemin again behind Jeno, letting him have his way with you over and over again until he’s satisfied. His only goal is making you his, the desire too strong to let you go now. 

    But were you seriously that dumb to think Jeno doesn’t know anything? 

    He wants to laugh, honestly. It feels like he underestimated you the whole time, but also he felt betrayed. He felt like he doesn’t know his wife true enough to know what she likes and not. He thought he left something out in your relationship, and perhaps he did. So when he learns the secret relationship of yours, he plays into your little game. Watching the two of you interact with each other with hawk eyes, his hands behind his back fisted as he tries to keep himself back from launching on you and dragging you away from the staring eyes. Especially, from one. The beloved and special day of yours goes by in a minute, finding yourself in the safe arms of your husband. Or so you thought minutes ago before you find yourself in a hotel room, away from the reception of your wedding.

    And this is exactly how you approach Jeno, with loving intent in your eyes to forget everything you did with Jaemin and focus on him and him only. 

    Until you step further into the room, and see Jaemin sitting helplessly on a chair infront of the bed. 

    Fuck. 

 “Hmm, sweetheart don’t be shy now, your beloved boy toy is watching you. Put on a show.” A deep voice rumbles from behind you, Jeno’s warm hands palming your breasts as you try to calm your nerves while your eyes are trained on the mentioned man, Jaemin. He’s wearing a coy smirk on his lips, even though his situation cannot be more comfortable than you soon being on your knees. His hands are tied behind his chair, his shirt long forgotten and only presentable in his dress pants earlier from today. His perfectly styled hair is disheveled now, head tilted to the side as his eyes are boring onto your naked body presented in front of your husband.

    You chew on your bottom lip as you take in the sight in front of you, feeling Jeno behind you getting hard as his cock poke the lower of your back. It’s like he can read your mind, filled with dirty thoughts on how this night will unfold. He thinks the same, as the passing seconds nearly makes him want to throw you on the neatly set hotel bed and devour you in front of his best friend. You feel all the blood rushing to your face when you feel Jeno’s hand slowly sliding all the way down where your pantyline sits, teasing the hem of it as you already know what comes next. 

    As you take a breath his finger glides over your already wet underwear, feeling your folds molding into the material as seconds passes and you get more wetter than before. He nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck, his piercing eyes trained on the tied up man in front of the both of you. Thousand thoughts flood his mind, imagining the filthy scenarios the two of you have been doing behind his back. All of that comes to an end tonight,making sure you never stray away from Jeno’s side again. 

    “What made you want my wife, hm?” The question slips out of his mouth, barely hearable as he mumbles it into your neck. Your eyes widen in slight fear and shock, eyes landing on Jaemin as his smirk only grows. 

    “Do you truly want to hear my honest answer?” He replies, adjusting his hips slightly just for you to notice the visible tent forming in his pants. “All the reasons that made me seduce your wife and make her mine?” He adds, the smirk in his voice making Jeno irritated as his finger dips under the material and slides inside your warm walls. The sudden action made you let out a whine and throw your head back onto his shoulder, your bottom lip still caught by your teeth. His finger slowly works in and out of you, your wetness spreading all over the material of your underwear, pooling in small portions onto Jeno’s hand. 

    “Tell me.” His grip on you tightens, his other arm fully hugging you to his still fully clothed body. He’s the only one who still has every clothing on, making it impossible to think he doesn’t have the power over the both of you now. You and Jaemin at his mercy, you fully naked in his arms where you belong watching your secret being toyed by your husband. “Look into her eyes and tell me.” 

    Jeno’s long and slender finger curls inside you, making your stomach jump into a knot as you moan into the air while your hand immediately lands on his arm around you for support. Only for him to take that arm and turn your attention to Jaemin, his finger grabbing your chin and tilting your head in his way. He press kisses on the side of your neck, his warm breath only making you cry out for more as his finger is still working between your spongy walls. 

    Somewhere in front of you you hear a faint groan, seeing Jaemin adjusting in his seat again as he momentarily closes his eyes and takes a breath. Your legs squeeze on their own, trying to rub against each other for more friction. Jeno keeps you in his arms securely, his finger speeding up as well as his thumb lands on your puffy clit to ease your pain. 

    Jaemin lifts his head and sees how Jeno’s finger disappears inside you, the squelching noises filling the room only to bring Jaemin to let out a small groan once again. “How could I not want her when she makes the most delicious noises?” He confesses, his pants getting uncomfortably tight against his cock the longer he watches you, wanting to be on his knees in front of you to drink all the juices you spill out of your pussy. “Just as delicious as herself.” He wants to palm himself as he takes in the view, only to be remembered how restrained he is at the moment. Jeno is visibly furious by now, his finger speeding up even more as you writhe now against him, trying to catch your breath as you feel your climax approach. 

    “B-baby…S-slow down..” You whimper to warn Jeno, but it’s like a red light went off in his head. He curls his finger one more time, his thumb never stopping to massage your clit as you can’t help but come undone against his palm. You rub against his hand, letting out pornographic moans as your juices spill on his fingers and palm, making him chuckle into your neck. It drips out of you, feeling your thighs sticky with your arousal as you slowly lift your eyes to Jaemin, your heart skipping a beat. His gray pants are now ruined by a wet patch forming on the material, exactly where the head of his cock sits. He’s taking the air way quicker than before, looking down at himself with an all-knowing smile before looking up at you. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flex as he tries to get out of the restraints, but all it’s in vain. 

    “You did so well baby, look at him.” Jeno whispers into your ear, his arm around you slowly letting you go.

     “Look what you did to him.” 

    You look. Jaemin still looks like he’s been through a night with you, but in all truth, no one even touched him. And it visibly sets something off inside you, your throat going dry as you take in the next scene in front of you. Jeno slowly lets you go, you slowly end up on your knees as you can’t keep your weak body up by yourself. You see him slowly walking up to the other man, standing now next to him as he takes his pathetic form in. Jaemin is still wearing his shit eating grin as he looks up at your husband, his presence radiating nothing more than pride. As your eyes are still trained on them, Jeno slowly brings his fingers up in front of Jaemin, making the latter confused by his action. 

    “Open.”

    He simply says, his arousal coated fingers opening Jaemin’s mouth slowly. You feel yourself getting wetter once again as you see his fingers toy around with his tongue, his eyes watching you now as he fully takes your juices into his mouth,moaning around Jeno’s finger. His eyes flutter at your taste, his chest heaving by the passing moments. You take in Jeno too, he stares down at Jaemin as he lets him devour your taste on his digits, his eyes piercing more than ever. It feels like a decade by the time Jeno pulls his hand away and crutches down behind him, the tie around Jaemin’s hands suddenly hits the ground and he flashes a smile towards you. 

    You, on your knees in nothing but in your panties, feels like two predators are trying to seduce their prey. One single prey. Jeno walks back to you, smiling down at you as you lift your chin up towards him. His broad shoulders flex under his white button-up, taking his time as he rolls his sleeves up teasingly. Suddenly Jaemin appears behind him, looking down at you with the used tie in his hands now. Your eyebrows furrow at the material, looking at your husband with a questioning look. 

    “You didn’t seriously think I wouldn’t punish you too, right?” As you blink up at him he only smirks more, before crouching down in front of you. “Sweetheart,”

“Since you had some nerve playing around behind my back, you surely don’t mind me doing the same, hm?” He whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear in a gentle way. His actions and words in disharmony only throws you off even more, knowing that this time, Jeno’s going full out. “Don’t expect anything less than you being our fuck doll tonight.” He smiles at you sweetly. You’ve never seen him like this, or talk this way about you. It sets a fire inside you. And he sees it too, hell, Jaemin probably knows this is what really turns you on. Something risky, something thrilling, 

    “Do you mind helping her out, Jaem?” Jeno stands up in front of you, his fingers working on unbuckling his belt.

    “Not at all.” He says in a low voice, walking around to stand behind you, crouching behind you as one of his hands softly swipes all of your hair onto your back. “Give me your hands baby.” He sweetly muses into your ear, already taking your delicate hands behind your back, securing it together with the silk tie. You look around confusedly, looking at Jaemin with pleading eyes as you try to put the two together. “Oh, baby…don’t look so surprised. You knew this would happen once, didn't you?” He caresses the skin on your back, making you arch into his touch and shiver with eagerness. Before you could say anything in response, Jeno grabs your chin and turns it in his way, looking down at you with expressionless eyes. 

   “Eyes here,baby.” He says. You see his bulge forming in his pants, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting him finally. He takes his hands and unbuttons his dress pants, taking his thick, leaking cock out which hangs now in front of your face. The tip is flushed with eagerness, precum already coating the head as his veins are prominent on the skin. You lick your lips before pressing small kisses on the skin, kitten licks teasing the slit and tasting him with a satisfactory moan. You feel a pair of hands creeping up the back of your neck and head, Jaemin gathering all the hair into a ponytail. It’s like they are synchronized, Jeno at the same time holds your chin with one hand, the other grabbing his cock and smearing his precum on your flushed lips. 

    “Open up for me angel, show Jaemin what you got.” 

    At his command you obey, slowly letting his length slide into your warm mouth, hitting the back of your throat almost immediately, making you gag around him. Jaemin behind you peppers kisses on your exposed shoulder, his hand holding your hair as he whispers. 

    “That’s it, pretty girl. Take his cock just like that.”

    Your eyes are already watering by the time Jeno starts thrusting inside your throat, groaning from the warmness and wetness coating his member the more he dips his cock inside you. There’s a visible bulge formed in your throat, Jaemin immediately caressing the front of your throat in a careful way. It makes both you and Jeno moan, Jeno’s grip on your chin getting stronger enough to leave a slight bruise as he pounds inside your mouth. 

    His actions makes you rub your thighs together once again, crying out around his cock as you try to take puffs of air through your nose, wanting to come up for air but it’s no good, Jeno keeps his pace as his eyes are still bored into you, your face scrunching up into something between pleasure and discomfort at the same time. 

    “Look how good you make your husband feel, baby. Taking his cock so well like a good slut, hm?” Jaemin mumbles into your ears as he looks up at Jeno too, a smirk still painting his mouth as his other hand is still stroking the front of your throat for more pleasure. 

    The gagging noises blurred out by Jeno’s grunts makes you whine around him more, your pussy throbbing with need as you take his length more deeper. “Take him a little more, angel. You’re doing so good.” Jaemin whispers once again, and it’s the last drop in the glass when he squeezes his hand around your throat slightly. Jeno grunts at the feeling and reaches his climax, shooting white ropes of cum down your throat as he stills his moves against your mouth. All you can do is cry, tears spilling from your eyes as you feel his cum dripping out from the side, dropping on the bare skin of your thighs. Jaemin chuckles behind you, letting your hair fall around your face when Jeno finally pulls out of your mouth. 

    “Fuck…look at the mess you’ve made, baby.” He groans, gripping your chin once again to gather the spilled arousal on your lips into your mouth. At this point, you are leaned back into Jaemin’s chest, him keeping you up with his arms as Jeno happily stuffs your mouth with more cum. He smiles at you, mumbling a proud ��Atta girl.” as you keep swallowing his seed. 

    It’s like a green light going off when Jeno suddenly nods swiftly, Jaemin swooping you into his arms and placing you on the bed in under a second. You look up at him with dazed and still tear coated eyes, seeing Jeno stepping beside him. You feel your slickness pour out of you as you take the two in, Jeno finally kneeling on the bed and pulling you closer to him by your ankles. 

    “We are far not done, sweetheart.” He says in a low voice, his teasing finger finally taking your ruined panty off to reveal your slick folds begging for attention. “Fuck.” He groans, putting your ankles on his wide shoulders. exposing you more than ever as he and Jaemin have the perfect view of your dripping hole. 

    “Fucking hell, princess.” Jaemin groans beside Jeno, his finger too eager to not touch you. You let out a yelp as he caresses your sensitive folds, sucking on his finger once again before leaving Jeno’s side to sit back on the sofa to watch the whole show. You don’t even have time to react when you see Jeno’s muscle flex on his forearm as he grabs his still wet cock and drags it along your arousal, making you whine as he bumps it against your sensitive clit. He circles his tip around it, as well as around your tight hole in a teasing matter before pushing in suddenly, making the both of you moan at the contact. His cock swells up inside you, molding into your walls as you take him inch by inch, easily sliding inside you. “So good,such a good girl.” He grunted, his hips now flushed against yours as you moan into the thin air, your hands still tied up behind you making you writhe on the bed. 

    “J-jeno…please, let me touch you..” 

    You plead with tears on your face, looking up at him as he takes a breath and presses a kiss on your ankle. “You think you deserve it? Touching me?” 

    “Yes, please I’m-”

    “Why don’t you call out for your boy toy over there,huh?” He bends your knees to touch your chest, closing the distance between the two of you as he’s merely a breath away now. His lips are ghosting over yours, almost touching your plush red lips as he pulls his hips back and thrusts forward sharply, making you moan into his mouth with furrowed eyebrows. Jeno can already feel the arousal dripping out the sides, all the slickness coating your skin and his pants as he continues to ram into you. 

    “F-fuck! Please, baby, fill me up..!” The sentence simply slips out as your mind is already back on his cock, feeling it dragging inside your walls just right, your climax for the second (or maybe third?) time of the night approaching quicker than before. But then, like a snap of a finger, Jeno pulls out and turns you to your side, him taking his dressing shirt finally off and throwing it to the side. He lays down on his side behind you, pulling you closer to him as you notice Jaemin kneeling in front of you on the bed now. 

    “So now I can finally join the fun?” He asks cockily, his pants now nowhere to be seen as his cock is standing proudly against his stomach, throbbing with need. He surely has been touching himself because you notice how red and wet it looks. His eyes are now looking hungrier than ever, scanning your flushed body against Jeno’s as he keeps his hands on you as Jaemin finally grabs your legs and lays slightly over you. You whine as you’re passed over to another, your clit throbbing so painfully for a release that you think you might die before you feel Jaemin touching you again, dragging his tip over your folds to coat it with your and Jeno’s slickness. 

    “Please..” You cry again, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel their bodies pressed against you, Jaemin cock teasing your dripping hole as he chuckles. 

    “Baby, you have to be more specific about what you ask for.” He hisses, his slit bumping against your clit again nearly making him cum over your pussy. 

    “I-i need…I need both of you..” You mumble out, your head thrown back on Jeno’s shoulder before you hear him chuckle and bite into your shoulder slightly. Jaemin hums before taking his hand and pulling one of your legs over his waist, getting closer to your body even more. He dips his head down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the perky muscle before biting down to make you arch more into him. But in a sudden minute, you feel him sliding his cock inside your warm walls, getting stretched out on his cock as you moan next to his ear. 

    “So you need both of us, sweetheart?” Jeno asks behind you teasingly, his hands gripping your waist that you believe will leave bruises, his cock rutting into your ass as he groans into your ears. “Let’s see how well you can take us.”

    You feel like your body is on a high fever. 

    Jaemin’s cock drag inside your walls makes you arch more into him, seeing his muscles work as he ruts more and more into your tight pussy, all while Jeno behind you using your dripping arousal coats your even tighter backside with his tip, launching his body more closer to yours ending you up in a tight position between the two men. 

    “Fuck,how can you be even more tighter?” He asks as he presses a finger in testingly, making your body tense up in that second. “You have to relax for me,okay?” He whispers into your ear,you trying to focus on his words but all you can feel is his best friend rutting his cock in your dripping cunt from forward, his grunts and moans filling your mind as all you can do is nod and whimper. “Just please…put it in already..” You mumble, your brain over cloud nine as you feel Jeno groan and press the finger deeper into your whole, easing up the tight rim so he can somehow fit inside you. 

    “Good,‘s so good baby..” Jaemin moans, his lips still paying attention to your nipples before feeling your climax approach, coating his cock with thick arousal and leaving his and Jeno’s member coated abundantly. “Yes, fuck, keep cumming like that..” 

    Before you could say any word, or even let out a hum, your breath gets caught up in your throat as you feel Jeno pressing his tip into your hole, pushing his cum coated member into your backside. 

    “Fuuuck, baby..” Jeno groans, his hands holding you tight as he keeps his cock nestled inside you deeply. With a half lidded eye, you look down where the both of them connect their body with yours, only for your eye catching the bulge showing on your stomach. A thin sheen of sweat gleams on your bodies, ignoring the pleading acclamation to slow down as both of them seem to have fallen into ecstasy. Their cocks rubbing slightly against each other, only to be separated by a wall gives both of them an animal kind of instinct,wanting to claim your body before the other.

    “Come on, scream for us doll,” Jaemin groans against your skin, feeling his climax creeping up on him. 

    “Fuck it deep into her Jaem, let her remember this night.” Jeno suddenly says from behind you, his hips never seem to stop from rutting more inside you as you scream into the night more. 

a/n: i almost lost my mind over this. pls be kind this was my first time writing a threesome bye

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

taglist: @arunainluv @liloraet @peterm4rker @chenlezip

[nicholasluvbot]

FLYING KISSㅤ𓈒ㅤ𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 18-𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋-𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒.

ㅤㅤ── 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

𝒇 ! readerㅤ𖥔ㅤ500ㅤㅤ><ㅤ`ㅤ𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌ㅤ𓈒ㅤ──── cautions 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 ㅤㅤ🍀ㅤㅤ𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝗂𝖵𝖤

woonhak always stretches an arm out on the back of your chair, absentmindedly playing with your hair or tracing circles on your shoulder while pretending not to care. if someone else tries to squeeze in between you, he automatically shifts his chair closer to yours—anything to be near you.

he swears he never gets jealous, but the moment another guy gets a little too close to you, his whole demeanor shifts. "oh, that guy?" he says, unimpressed. "he's like 5'7 on a good day." he tries to act indifferent, but he's noticeably more clingy for the rest of the day, standing closer than usual, his shoulder brushing against yours, making sure you laugh at all of his jokes instead.

if someone talks about asking you out in front of him, he lets out a short, sharp laugh before mumbling, "yeah, good luck with that." and when someone actually flirts with you in front of him, he plays it off with fake nonchalance—jaw tightening, but his voice light and teasing. "oh, so you're cheating on me now?" he tilts his head, wearing an exaggerated look of betrayal.

you shove at his arm playfully. "you are so unserious."

"dead serious," he quips, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you. "but hey, do what you want. just don't come crying to me when you realize no one treats you as well as i do."

he teases you relentlessly but goes completely still when you lean your head on his shoulder. he pretends not to care, staring ahead like it’s no big deal, but you can feel how stiff he gets at first. then, slowly, his body relaxes, and after a while, he even tilts his head to rest against yours.

in class, he flicks your forehead when he catches you zoning out or dozing off, playfully scolding you to pay attention—then immediately following it with a quiet, "you okay?" in a softer voice.

he "accidentally" wins a carnival game and tosses you the stuffed animal casually. "i don’t need it," he says, even though you both know he was trying hard to win. but later, when you’re not looking, he grins to himself, satisfied when he sees you still hugging it hours later.

he always finds an excuse to be at your house, lounging on your couch like it’s his second home. he acts like he's there for the snacks, but really, he just loves being around you, in your space.

he grumbles about how you always make him do things, like helping you carry your stuff or waiting for you after class, but the one time you don’t ask for his help, he frowns. "what, you didn’t need me?" and when you say you didn’t want to bother him, he scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "idiot. it’s not a bother."

it’s so obvious—everyone sees it. he thinks he hides it well, but every so often, when you're laughing, focused, or just doing anything at all, he gets this soft look in his eyes. it only lasts a second before he snaps out of it, clearing his throat and teasing you about something random. but when jaehyun asks, "dude, do you like them or something?" woonhak just scoffs, looking anywhere but at you.

"who wouldn’t?"

‎ ‎     • 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 🗯 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ───── 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ˆᗜˆ

tags ( boynextdoor ) @coquettejunnie , @hanninova , @chaeneu , @aloe-7 , @en-dream , @rizzkisworld , @cosmicwintr , @mydearyeseo , @ladyaida , @fae-renjun , @slytherinshua , @jjennuine , @kstrucknet , @k-films , @sgz-net