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jaylalolz · 5 months ago

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❛ 𝐌𝐑 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

ENEMY!reader x ENEMY!nicholas

SUMMARY, Nicholas didn’t enjoy attending parties, but he was forced to attend one. he immediately is drawn to a fascinating girl he saw, with a mask, only to discover that she is his only enemy.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyy

A/N, i love this plot sm. i hope you guys enjoy!! make sure to heart and leave a comment 🪽

The Halloween party was full, the throbbing beat of the music vibrating through the walls of the old house. Fog machines puffed clouds of smoke that snaked between costumed dancers, and the flashing strobe lights made it hard to tell where one person ended and another began. Everyone was masked, faces hidden behind elaborate disguises. Nicholas stood near the edge of the dance floor, observing the chaos around him through the dark eyeholes of his Ghostface mask.

He hated parties, hated the noise, hated the feeling of people crowding in too close. But what he hated most of all was her. Yet here he was, lingering on the outside because she was supposed to be here tonight. He didn’t know why it mattered—maybe he just wanted to see what kind of ridiculous costume she’d chosen. Probably something overly dramatic, like her personality.

Nicholas tugged at the sleeve of his black robe, adjusting the plastic knife in his hand. His friends had laughed when he chose the Ghostface costume, saying it was cliché. But right now, he was thankful for the anonymity it provided. He could watch, unbothered, shielded by the mask.

He scanned the room. People twirled and laughed, faces painted in ghoulish shades of makeup, masks obscuring their identities. Then he saw her.

She stood at the bar, her dark curls cascading down her back, black lace gloves covering her hands as she leaned against the counter. She was dressed in a black corset, the burgundy velvet of her skirt flowing around her legs. Her lips were painted a deep red, and even through her masquerade mask, Nicholas could tell she was trouble.

He didn’t know who she was, but there was something magnetic about her. Something familiar, though he couldn’t place it.

His feet moved before his brain could catch up, taking him toward the bar where she stood. She was sipping from a crimson-colored drink, her eyes scanning the crowd with an air of detached amusement.

Nicholas cleared his throat as he approached, and she turned to look at him, her gaze flicking over his Ghostface costume. She raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

“Nice mask,” she said, her voice smooth, but there was an edge to it, like she wasn’t easily impressed.

“You too,” he replied, though he had no idea what her costume was supposed to be. He wasn’t exactly up to date on vampire shows or whatever dark, gothic look she was pulling off.

She tilted her head, her eyes glittering beneath the mask. “Katherine.”

“Ghostface,” he shot back, earning him a chuckle.

Without another word, she downed the rest of her drink, then slid the glass across the bar. Her gloved hand extended toward him, a playful challenge in her eyes. “Dance?”

He hesitated for a second. Dancing wasn’t his thing, but something about her made it hard to say no. Maybe it was the mystery, the way her body moved with fluid grace, or the way she didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. And that smirk—it was infuriatingly tempting.

He grabbed her hand, the warmth of her fingers a surprise through the lace gloves, and let her lead him onto the dance floor.

The music shifted to something slower but still pulsing with energy, the bass thrumming through his chest. Around them, people swayed, masks blending into the darkened space, the flashing lights creating a disorienting blur of color.

She moved in closer, her body pressing against his as they danced. Nicholas felt the sharpness of her hips against his as she swayed, her arms snaking up around his neck. The contact sent a jolt through him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved with her, their bodies falling into rhythm.

For a moment, he forgot about everything—the party, the rivalry, the irritation that always bubbled under the surface when he thought of her. All that existed was the masked woman in front of him, and the strange pull between them.

She tilted her head up, her lips barely an inch from his ear. “You dance better than I thought.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Nicholas muttered, his voice low, but there was no venom in his tone. It was strange, the way she was getting under his skin, making him forget about the person he usually was—the person who was always at odds with someone else.

“Big talk for someone hiding behind a mask,” she teased, her breath warm against his neck.

“You’re one to talk,” he shot back, his grip tightening on her waist. The banter felt effortless, but different. There wasn’t the usual bite to it. Just an undercurrent of something electric.

She let out a low laugh, her body pressing even closer, her hand sliding up to his mask. “What if I take it off?”

He froze, his heart thudding. For some reason, he didn’t want her to know who he was. Not yet.

“What if I don’t want you to?” he replied, his voice a little rougher, his thumb brushing over the fabric of her glove.

She paused, eyes flicking up to meet his through her mask. For a moment, the space between them crackled with tension—like they were standing on the edge of something neither of them quite understood.

Instead, her lips curled into a small, knowing smirk. Without a word, she nodded toward the stairs, a silent invitation.

Nicholas hesitated for a second, his thoughts tangled. Should he do this? But something about the way she moved, the subtle tilt of her head. It felt different. More dangerous.

And despite every instinct telling him to walk away, he found himself moving toward her.

She turned and started up the stairs, her skirt swaying with each step, and Nicholas followed, his heartbeat quickening. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he couldn’t stop himself from being drawn into whatever this was. The rest of the party faded away behind them, the noise muffled as they climbed higher, leaving the crowd below.

At the top of the stairs, she paused, glancing back at him with that same mischievous smile. "Coming?" she asked, her voice a little breathless, though still laced with challenge.

"Do I have a choice?" he muttered, his tone sharp, though his feet kept moving toward her.

"You always have a choice, ghostface," she replied, her gaze flicking over him like she was daring him to turn back.

But he didn’t.

She led him down a quiet hallway, stopping in front of a door that was cracked slightly open. Her fingers brushed the doorknob before she pushed it open wider, revealing a small, dimly lit room. It looked like a guest bedroom, draped in soft shadows from the single lamp in the corner. The sound of the party downstairs seemed miles away now, the noise distant and muted.

She stepped inside, casting a glance over her shoulder. "So," she said, her voice lower now, softer, but still carrying that familiar edge, "was the dance everything you expected?"

Nicholas stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, the click of the latch loud in the quiet space. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with careful eyes. "What are you playing at?"

She shrugged, moving to the center of the room, her fingers trailing along the edge of the bed. "Who says I’m playing?"

"Why did you invite me back here," he shot back, his eyes narrowing.

Her lips quirked up, but it wasn’t the smug smile he was used to. There was something else there, something more dangerous hiding just beneath the surface. "Wanna play a game, Mr ghostface?," she said quietly, turning to face him fully.

Nicholas swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yes" he says, his voice more certain than he intended.

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest. "Simon says.. lay on the bed" Her eyes searched his, her hand lingering over the fabric of his shirt.

Nicholas tensed under her touch, his heart pounding. Every fiber of his being told him this was a trap, that she was playing with him. But another part of him, the part that had spent the entire night dancing with her, wasn’t so sure.

"Okay" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He lays down right at the center of the bed.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark. She starts crawling to him in all fours and sits on his crotch; making him gasp. “Wanna make a deal with the devil?”

Her words hung in the air between them, thick and heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Nicholas felt his pulse quicken, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Before he could think about it any longer, she was closer, her breath warm against his neck as she looked up at him. Her hand slid up, fingers lightly grazing his neck. "What’s the matter, Ghostface?" she murmured, her voice teasing but softer now, more intimate. "Scared of a challenge?"

But instead, he reached out, his fingers sliding through the soft curls at the back of her neck, pulling her closer. "I never back down from a challenge," he whispered, his breath mingling with hers.

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, they were frozen, caught between something much more dangerous.

She took a slow, deliberate lean closer, looking up at him with that same devilish smile. “Simon says.. take my corset off”

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, but then his hand moved finding the ribbons on her corset and untying them. She didn't move, her eyes locked on his, and the air between them crackled with tension.

"Good boy," she said softly, her lips curving up into a satisfied smile.

“Tell me you want this.” she demands

He nods his head eagerly. “Y-Yes i want it..” he says softly.

"You wanna grind a bit baby?" she smirks in interest. He nods in desperation, dying for it at this point.

He undoes his belt and is about to undo his jeans. His bulge is visible when he unzips, but it is kept hidden by his briefs.

He gently begins to rub himself up and down against her as he rubs his confined erection against her covered core. Her lips parted with an involuntary whimper into his as her gut clenched a sharp knot at the sensitivity.

Her lips twitched at his mercy, pressing herself up against him through the flimsy covering they wore. Her legs began to expand, which allowed him an enormous amount of access. He stretches out his hand to take a firm hold of her hair. "Fuck sakes—that feels good." she responds, pushing his bulge up and down.

He grabs her throat with a forceful motion and turns them over onto the large bed. He reaches down into her panties and runs two fingers up her slit while hovering above her. "Are you soaking wet for me, princess?"

He touched her clit, and she parted my lips. He holds her throat, caressing her core with his fingers.

"You sure you want this?" For the last time, he says. She nods rapidly, aching all over now and pleading to feel him. She cusses, unable to wait any longer, "Please fuck me."

He slowly presses his hips forward while maintaining his position. He drives his tip inside her calmly, her body stretching around him. "Fuck..." He lets out a low sigh.He gives a deep sigh of relief as he pushes just past the head, freezing with just enough. Along with the sensation came a surge of intense pressure and pleasure.

He tries to ease her into the change very slowly, rocking with only half of himself.

“Shit.." He whispers to himself. "You're so tight”

He continues to press until she eventually feels his hips reach the back of her thigh, which was now fully in contact with his chest. She threw back her head and stretched a little, gasping out as she was so full and tight around him. "I can feel you clench around me.." With a stutter of delight, he stammers into the air, the squeeze tightly holding him.

He begins to make more rhythmic hip movements. She felt a warm sensation of pleasure begin to flare up in her lower abdomen as he began to swear. She arched her back involuntarily, but he quickly secured her back into a flat position on the bed.

"Yes— right there." she cried out in pleasure. Her fingers came in contact with her mask as she yanks it out of her face.

It hit him like a punch to the gut.

It was her. His rival. The girl he couldn't stand-the one who always got under his skin, who infuriated him more than anyone else.

The realization sent a thrill of anger— and something else-coursing through him. “Fuck!” She presses against his shoulder as he loses control and grips the back of her neck, slamming her against him. She gasped at the abrupt angle, but before she could react, he grabbed hold of her and began thrusting up into her.

He shouldn’t have continued what he was doing when he realized she was rival his him. But instead, it motivated him to move more quickly. She slams her head back against the mattress. Her thighs quivering in his presence. She was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that she didn't say anything during the high.

She groans at the sensitivity even though she was suddenly exhausted by his sloppy and sluggish thrusting. She couldn't take her eyes off him, even if her lids were heavy.

He twitches inside her, then instantly releases his hold on her stomach by pulling out. Releasing in his climax, he was death grasping the bed cushion above and behind her head. his big hands gripping her sides and his head was buried in her chest.

“Are you gonna take your mask off?”

“I think It’s best If I don’t”

#nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez x reader #smut

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gojosprettyprincess · 1 year ago

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SATORU SHARING YOU WITH HIS BEST FRIEND

"Such a nasty fucking slut aren't you baby? Enjoying my best friend eating my load out of this greedy cunt while I watch, what a dirty girl" his infamous smirk plastered on his features, looking down at your fuck out expression on his lap as Suguru's slurps on your dripping cunt while he's on his knees, two fingers stuffing your hole while he's lapping your wet folds. It was absolutely filthy, Gojo decided to let Suguru witness him fuck you silly so he can visually see how to properly fuck a girl since he recently got in a newly established relationship and well, he doesn't have that much experience on how to pleasure his girlfriend but honestly, there was no fucking way you could even tell anyways cause God he sure knew how to work his tongue.

Geto pulls away with a grin while he drills his fingers in and out of you, "Damn you weren't wrong Satoru, her cunt is so fucking good, so sweet and tasty" he smirks looking up at his best friend while dragging his tongue over his lips to lick up your juices. You cunt clenching around his fingers due to the lewd praise from your boyfriend’s beat friend.

"See I fucking told you sugu", Gojo gives him a cocky grin while bringing his thumb down to rub sloppy circles on your puffy clit while Geto continues fingerfucking you, he watches how your legs start shaking as your moans gets louder and louder.

"She's also so fucking sensitive, aren't you princess?", he obviously knew there was no way your gonna respond or say anything, it was just too much, earlier Gojo fucked you so fucking hard and good it didn't even feel like reality anymore, then not long after he stuffed your cunt full with his cream, Gojo made a brave suggestion that Geto should clean it up as a joke well look what that resulted to, tears stepping out of your eyes, it was so much, Geto was eating your cunt like a homeless man that just gotten his favorite meal that he haven't ate in a long time, ravishing and exploring your wet pussy with his tongue, hell he was even kissing and making out with it and you couldn't do anything about it because of the strong grip Satoru has on your thighs to keep you firmed, you’re on the verge of cumming, but the thing is, this time it felt so weird and different.

"Ohmygodohmygod fuckk!" you cried out as if you were panicking, "what is it pretty girl, are you gonna cum or does it feel that good?" Suguru asked, eyes fixated on your lewd expressions as he increased his pace, curling and scissoring his fingers against your tight velvet walls. God, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He looked up to Gojo and it was like they can read each other's minds or something, Gojo started thumbing your clit faster, the loud squeak of your wet cunny along with your uncontrollable moans filling the room as they continued overstimulating you. Suguru brings his hand up to pinch your nipples while Gojo goes closer to you to suck on the other.

"Uughh fuckkk" you hiccupped as your eyes roll back, body arch against Gojo's chest, a cold shiver hits your spine as you felt something wet circling your puckered hole, Suguru's tongue swirling around your tight sensitive hole while it winks and flutters against the pad of his tongue, fuck you never felt so intense before, it was just crazy.

"I'm cumming! Im cumminggg!" you screamed, eyes rolling back as you felt some type of liquid gushing out of you, spraying onto Geto's face and all over his hair but that obviously he didn't stop him one bit, matter a fact it motivated him, both of them smiling at each other as Suguru pounds his fingers into you at an impossible pace, your clit practically numb from Gojo playing with it. After they were both satisfied with ruining you, Suguru sucked up your juices and cleaned your dirty cunt with his tongue.

"Didn't think the first time you'd squirt would be with me and my best friend?, What a little dirty slut you are, sweetheart" Gojo whispers in your ears before planting a kiss on your forehead.

"So, ya think you know how to please a woman now?" your boyfriend questions Suguru, looking at him with a sly smirk.

"I don't know man I thinkkk I need more visuals and experiments if that's alright with you" Suguru grins teasingly at his friend, hoping he understands what he meant.

"Of course bro, that's fine by me, thats what best friends are for". Gojo winks at him playfully.

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fawnhart · 2 months ago

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bambi seeing drew after a bad date ! ˚ ᡣ𐭩. 𖥔 ๋࣭

The sound of deep bass echoed from the back of the room, a steady thrum that vibrated through the soles of her feet, but the air around bambi felt heavier than the music. Her heart was thumping in her chest, an anxious drumbeat to match the flashing lights and clinking glasses. The after-party for Loewe was in full swing, the loft space tucked somewhere above the usual chaos of New York's West Side. There were faces she didn’t recognize, smiling, laughing, effortless in their beautyy, but she stayed at the edges, as usual, silent and still.

bambi still wasn’t used to this. She still wasn’t used to the velvet ropes or the high-fashion atmosphere. She still wasn’t used to being in the same room as celebrities, to feeling like the room itself might swallow her whole if she let it. But she told herself she was here to forget. Forget the week, forget the ache. Forget how much she wished the man from her last date hadn’t left her standing there, trying to understand why he’d chosen his “friend” over her.

It wasn’t like she’d ever voiced it. It wasn’t like she would have. But the feeling of being so easily discarded?

That sat heavy with her now, sharper than the yellowish neon lights that lit up the space.

Bambi took another sip of her drink, something bubbly that tasted like nothing and everything at the same time. her eyes darted around, searching for something, anything, to distract her. That was when she saw him.

Tall. Blonde. Older..WAY older.

The kind of guy you’d expect to look like a magazine ad come to life. Drew was leaning against the bar, laughing, the low sound of it catching her off guard. His eyes were blue, the color of the summer sky on a good day. His shirt was perfectly undone at the collar, and his hair, tousled but somehow intentional, made him look even more unattainable. There was a small hoop earring in one ear, the kind of detail that shouldn’t matter but to her it did.

And standing next to drew was his friend.

Bambis chest tightened as she watched the girl, her fingers trembling around her glass. Her loose curly hair falling messily over her forehead. They were talking, laughing like it was the easiest thing in the world, while bambi was just... standing there.

it wasn’t new news to her, the friend. she had worked with drew for about a year, but only recently had she started seeing him in a different light. She wanted him, and she felt dumb to believe that he would too.

Her throat burned.

She didn’t even notice when Alexa and Taylor stepped closer, their protective stares following the line of her gaze. They were older, the kind of girlfriends who’d always had her back, always known when something was wrong, even when bambi didn’t say a word.

“What’s wrong?” Alexa’s voice was soft but sharp with concern. She’d known bambi long enough to read her like a damn book.

She couldn’t find the words. Instead, her gaze stayed locked on the her. the moment that replayed in her mind like a never-ending loop.

‎ 𐦍

The date had started out fine, better than fine even. The city had been alive with possibilities, the kind of night that had the potential to turn into something great. They’d met at that little Greek restaurant on Bleecker, and bambi had tried not to overthink it. They talked about the usual stuff: work, music, movies. Drew made her laugh with his laid back jokes, and she’d felt something, that spark. For once, she wasn’t pretending to be someone else.

But as the night wore on, something shifted. His phone kept buzzing—just a quick glance at the screen, but it was enough. There was a look in his eyes, the kind of shift you couldn’t ignore. And then he’d stood up abruptly.

“‘m sorry baby, I gotta go” he’d said, his voice apologetic but not sincere, “A friend’s in town and I promised I’d meet up with her, you don’t mind, do you?.”

She’d nodded, her stomach sinking even as she smiled. “of course not, go ahead,” she said, not wanting to seem needy, not wanting to seem like she was the one who “needed” anything.

But she hadn’t seen him since. Not a text. Not a call. Nothing.

The walk back to her townhome had been a blur. She didn’t remember much of the city streets, just the cold biting at her skin, “stupid mini dress” she thought. the steady rhythm of her kitten heels clicking against the pavement, and the silence that wrapped around her. It wasn’t until she reached her door that the tears came. Silent and sharp, like something breaking inside.

‎ 𐦍

Bambi blinked, the edges of her vision starting to blur as the tears she hadn’t been able to shed in front of him finally threatened to break free. Her breath caught in her throat. Alexa’s arm looped around her shoulders, the familiar weight of it grounding her.

“You okay?” Taylor asked, her voice a little softer than usual as she pushed back a singular lock behind her ear

bambi nodded, though she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay at all. She couldn’t shake the feeling that drew had left her behind, that she was just... another girl in a long line of them.

But Alexa and Taylor weren’t having any of it. They exchanged a look, their unspoken language clear. Taylor nodded toward the door. “We’re leaving,” she said, her voice soft, but laced with disgust. “We’re not sticking around for this—their bullshit.”

And with that, they all started moving toward the exit. No more distractions, no more pretending everything was fine. The cold air of the night hit her like a shock, but it was a welcome one. They didn’t even wait for an Uber—just flagged a cab, the city lights streaking past them like a blur as they made their way to a late-night burger joint in the Village.

Bambi didn’t say much in the car, but the warmth of Alexa’s hand on hers, the sound of Taylor making some off-hand joke about a studio ghibli movie, made the ache feel a little more manageable. When they finally got home, the apartment was quiet, safe, warm and cozy. The three of them settled onto the couch with their burgers, wrapped in blankets. The sound of “Sex and the City” played softly in the background, the familiar banter of Carrie and the girls filling the space around them.

It wasn’t perfect. Nothing ever was. But as bambi leaned back into the couch, her friends beside her, she realized that she didn’t need drew to fix her. Not when she had people who loved her exactly as she was. She wasn’t invisible. Not to them.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

#works!⟡࿔*:･ﾟ #bambi!reader✦ •ִ ᜔.#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #aesthetic #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks

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koyagifs · 23 days ago

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𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

pairing: hongjoong x reader ft. seonghwa au: idol | established relationship genre: fluff word count: 1.6 k synopsis: he was nervous - of course he was. He was finally proposing to the love of his life. warning(s): fluff, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities

Hongjoong sat at his studio desk, fingers tapping anxiously on its surface as his thoughts raced in every direction. Behind him, Seonghwa lounged on the couch, lazily flipping through his phone, though his occasional glances at Hongjoong betrayed his amusement at his friend’s evident panic.

Valentine's Day was just around the corner, and for the first time in years, Hongjoong felt completely out of his depth. Each year since you’d been together, he had poured his heart and soul into creating something special for you. And each year, he had managed to outdo himself—a handmade photo album with a song he’d written for you, a surprise getaway to your dream destination, even an art piece that took him weeks to complete.

But now, as the holiday loomed closer, he had no idea how to top any of it.

In his hands, he held a small velvet box, its deep navy hue rich and timeless. Inside was the ring he had carefully picked out for you on your very first anniversary together—a token of his love and a promise he hadn’t spoken aloud just yet.

He had always known he was going to marry you. From the moment you came into his life, everything had shifted, like his world had suddenly clicked into place. You had a way of grounding him when his mind raced too far ahead, of inspiring him when he felt lost, and of loving him so completely it left him breathless.

The thought of proposing had been on his mind for so long that it almost felt surreal to finally be here. It wasn’t just about the ring or the act of asking—it was about what it meant. A future with you. A lifetime of love, laughter, and the kind of partnership he’d always dreamed of.

“You’re overthinking this, Hongjoong. She’s going to love it,” Seonghwa said casually, barely glancing up from his phone as he lounged on the couch in the corner of the studio.

Hongjoong, however, was far from convinced. He stood in the middle of the room, pacing back and forth, the small velvet ring box clutched tightly in his hands. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it’s too simple? What if—”

“Joong,” Seonghwa interrupted, finally putting his phone down and sitting up to give him a pointed look. “It’s not about how elaborate the proposal is. It’s about you two. About the fact that you’re asking her to spend the rest of her life with you. That’s already perfect enough.”

Hongjoong stopped pacing and turned to face Seonghwa, his brow furrowed. “But this is such a big deal, Hwa. I’ve been planning this for so long, and I just want it to be everything she’s ever dreamed of.”

Seonghwa’s expression softened as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Hongjoong, you’ve been in love with her since the moment you met her. You’ve shown her every single day how much she means to you. She’s not going to care about the details—she’s going to care about the fact that it’s you asking her. That’s what makes it special.”

Hongjoong stared at the velvet box in his hands, turning it over slowly. He knew Seonghwa was right, but the nerves bubbling in his chest wouldn’t settle. He had always been a perfectionist, and this moment felt like it had to live up to every dream he’d ever imagined for the two of you.

Seonghwa stood and crossed the room, placing a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “You’re ready for this, Joong. Stop doubting yourself. She’s going to say yes, and it’s going to be one of the best moments of both of your lives.”

Hongjoong exhaled deeply, some of the tension leaving his body. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Seonghwa said with a grin. “And if you don’t stop freaking out, I might just propose for you.”

That earned a laugh from Hongjoong, who finally cracked a smile. “Alright, alright, I’ll calm down. Thanks, Hwa.”

“Anytime,” Seonghwa replied, giving his shoulder a squeeze before heading back to the couch. “Now, go rehearse whatever speech you’ve got planned. Not that you’ll need it—she’s going to be too busy saying yes to care.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his nerves replaced by a growing sense of excitement. Seonghwa was right. This wasn’t about perfection—it was about the love he shared with you. And that, he knew, was more than enough.

➴ [ 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒚 ]

Yunho and Yeosang were masters of distraction, effortlessly keeping you entertained as Seonghwa and Hongjoong worked behind the scenes. The three of you were out for what you believed was just a casual hangout—Yunho had suggested lunch at your favorite café, and Yeosang, ever the conspirator, insisted on checking out the new bookstore across the street. You didn’t suspect a thing, though you couldn’t help but wonder why they seemed so intent on filling every moment with plans. You wanted nothing more then to just spend the day with your boyfriend that finally had a day off.

Meanwhile, back at your shared apartment, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were hard at work. The once-cozy living space had been transformed into a romantic wonderland. Soft fairy lights hung across the walls, casting a warm, golden glow. Flower petals on the ground into a heart shape, their sweet scent filling the air. Candles flickered softly on every available surface, and a playlist of songs that held special meaning for you and Hongjoong played quietly in the background. Heart shaped balloons filled the air, and the final piece : will you marry me letters.

“Careful with that,” Seonghwa muttered as Hongjoong adjusted his tie.

“I know, I know,” Hongjoong replied, rubbing his hand together. “This has to be perfect.”

“It is,” Seonghwa assured him, his tone calm and encouraging. “She’s going to love it. Stop second-guessing yourself.”

Hongjoong nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. This moment had been months in the making, and with each passing second, his excitement—and nerves—grew.

Just as Seonghwa lit the last candle, Hongjoong’s phone buzzed with a message from Yunho: We’re heading back now. Be ready!

“They’re on their way,” Hongjoong said, his voice tight with anticipation.

Seonghwa clapped him on the back. “You’ve got this. Take a deep breath and remember—this is about the two of you. Nothing else matters.”

As the sound of the front door opening reached their ears, Hongjoong took his place by the table, the velvet box now resting in his hand. Seonghwa slipped off to the side, giving him space for the moment that was about to unfold.

When you stepped into the apartment, the sight before you took your breath away. The soft glow of the lights, the warmth of the candles, and the unmistakable effort that had gone into creating this magical atmosphere left you speechless.

You were in awe as you stepped into the apartment, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes scanned the transformed space. The soft, golden glow of the fairy lights, the flickering warmth of the candles, the delicate arrangements of your favorite flowers—it was all so beautiful, so intimate, and so perfectly you.

Your steps faltered as tears stung your eyes, the overwhelming wave of love and effort behind it all sinking in. “Oh my God…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you took it all in.

Standing in the middle of it all was Hongjoong, looking as nervous as he did radiant. His hands fidgeted slightly, but his gaze on you was steady, filled with so much love it made your chest ache.

“Joong…” you managed, your voice thick with emotion. “What is this?”

He stepped forward slowly, meeting you halfway, the small velvet box cradled carefully in his trembling hand. The sight of it made your breath hitch, and before you could stop them, tears spilled over, streaming freely down your cheeks.

Hongjoong dropped to his knees in front of you, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might leap out of his chest. His own tears threatened to fall, his emotions teetering on the edge as he looked up at you with a gaze so full of love it nearly broke him.

“I…” he began, his voice catching as he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. His fingers tightened around the box as he took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I had this whole speech planned, but now that you’re here, I can’t even think straight.”

You let out a watery laugh, your hands coming up to cover your mouth as you continued to cry, happiness spilling out of you in waves.

Hongjoong smiled through his tears, his voice trembling as he spoke again. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, Yn. From the day you walked into my life, you’ve made everything brighter, everything better. You’ve been my partner, my muse, my everything. And all I want is to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love you.”

He opened the velvet box with shaky hands, revealing the ring you could already tell had been chosen with so much thought and care. The sight of it made your heart swell, your tears falling even faster.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly as his own emotions finally spilled over, tears slipping down his cheeks.

You couldn’t speak for a moment, overwhelmed by the love and vulnerability in his voice. All you could do was nod, furiously and repeatedly, as you finally found your voice through your sobs. “Yes, Joong, yes!”

A relieved laugh escaped him as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling even more than before. The moment it was in place, he stood, pulling you into his arms and holding you as tightly as he could.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice muffled against his chest as you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt.

#hongjoong x reader fluff #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fluff #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez hongjoong #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshot #ateez #hongjoong x reader ateez #ateez fluff #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x you #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ hongjoong ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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deathofpeaceofmiiind · 2 months ago

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Kill my time // Quinn Hughes

In a city full of lonely people, I just want you all to myself

summary: birthday celebrations causing jealousy while struggling to turn a certain age

warnings: drinking, clubbing, smut (18+)

── ∘◦ ⛤ ◦∘ ──

“I can’t believe I’m going to a bar like I’m in my early twenties again.”

I smoothed my dress down, picking apart everything wrong with me as I looked in the mirror. Turning thirty felt like my world was about to collapse, and what made it worse was knowing my boyfriend was only turning twenty five just two days after me.

“Not to mention with a bunch of guys who are twenty one.” My roommate added as she fixed us a couple of drinks. I saw her bring out a bottle of tequila, knowing I was going to be in for a long night.

“Ugh, what did I get myself into?”

“Girl, it’s fine! Quinn doesn’t care about your age so why should you?” She asks, passing me whatever concoction she made. A took a small sip, realizing it was tequila and soda…more like tequila with a splash of soda.

Deep down I knew she was right, because when I told Quinn I was older than him it didn’t phase him at all, I completely expected him to run. He told me the idea of being with someone older was a big turn on for him, something he didn’t discover until he met me. As for me, it didn’t matter what age the men were I dated, they were all extremely immature. I knew it was a risk with Quinn but he definitely didn’t act like men his age. After all he was the captain of an NHL team, he had to have a strong head on his shoulders.

An hour later I was making my way through a busy drunken crowd, holding onto Quinn’s hand for dear life. For whatever reason, his teammates chose this club to celebrate his birthday tonight. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, and I don’t think Quinn was thrilled on it either but he was too quiet to say anything. We always made the best of a bad situation and I knew tonight wouldn’t be any different. House music and lights were bouncing off the walls, making it hard to focus on where we were going. We finally got into our booth and a heavy sigh left me, I definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Quinn’s velvet voice echoed in my ear, calming my nerves. His eyes were bright green, almost enchanting as they peered into mine. My face grew hot, wondering how it was humanly possible for someone to be this gorgeous.

“Yeah it’s just been a while.” I wasn’t lying either. I spent most of my time in breweries with my friends since most of us were over going to clubs. Quinn likes to tell me he doesn’t like going out, but give him a few drinks and he makes a liar out of himself.

He pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel his stubble on my neck. “I won’t leave your side at all, I promise.”

“Okay.” I nodded before he gently brushed his lips over mine. I got lost in our own little world, the music melted away and I forgot we were in the middle of a busy club surrounded by strangers.

“Let’s celebrate, it’s your birthday after all.”

I rolled my eyes, “it’s also yours in two days.”

“Yeah, but …” his words trail off as he runs the pad of his thumb over my lip, “today brought me you.”

“How does it feel to be with a thirty year old?” The words falling past my lips causing my eyes to roll again. That number just didn’t sit right with me. “I’m officially an old lady.”

“Thirty has never looked better.” He mused, his hand running up my hip and bringing me closer to him. I pulled him into another kiss, his cologne hit me like a tidal wave causing butterflies in my stomach. His hand ran up my neck and gripped me tighter while his tongue begged to enter my mouth. We stayed like that, blissfully unaware of reality until his teammates came over with trays of various shots.

“Okay lover boy that’s enough. Let’s get you drunk.”

One thing about partying with hockey players is all of them have no limits when it comes to spending. I had to finally stop accepting every shot they brought around after the room began to spin. Best part of the night though was that the Devils were in town, so Jack and Luke, Quinn’s brothers were here to celebrate with everyone. This was only my second time meeting them but they were extremely welcoming and treated me like I was their sister. Jack at one point asked me to go dance with him and I couldn’t help but say yes.

“So how does it feel to be thirty?” Jack yelled into my ear as we danced to one of my favourite John Summit songs.

“Terrible. I’m almost a decade older than you!”

“You make thirty look so good though.” He smirks as Luke came behind me and picked me up, causing me to scream at him to put me down. As much as I fought he kept me over his shoulder.

“I just want you to know we fucking love you and you make my brother so happy.” Luke added as he finally put me down, the room was still spinning so I had to brace myself against him to make it stop.

“Thanks buddy.” I jumped a little, feeling Quinn’s hand on my back. His face was flushed, telling me he was up to no good without me.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?”

“Sorry bro!” Luke kissed the top of my head before him and Jack ran off to grab more drinks.

“You okay?” I asked Quinn as I turned to him, he smelt like whiskey and honey as he brought his lips to my neck.

“I will be.” He mumbles, burrowing his face into my neck. “I’m glad my brothers like you, but you’re my girlfriend. Not theirs.”

“Do you think they’re gonna steal me?” I clasped my mouth, trying to hold in my laughter because I know he was being serious. It was downright adorable.

“Maybe.”

“But I’m yours” I assured him, stepping closer to his body. My hands reaching behind his neck, slipping stands of his hair between my fingers. “No one will ever steal me from you.”

“Prove it.” He replied with such confidence, not taking his eyes off my lips. His hands reached up to my hips, pressing me even closer to him. I gasped as I felt his erection brush up against my leg, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” He mumbled, his eyes glazed with desire and whatever was in his system. I grabbed his hand, not knowing where he was taking me.

Quinn guided me into a private bathroom and locked the door. His hand brushed gently over my chest, hooking his finger under the strap of my dress. I watched him with intent, my heart pounding so fast I was surprised he didn’t feel it.

“You belong to me.” He whispered, slowly closing the gap between us. My hands braced onto his chest as he captured my mouth into a kiss that started off sweet but grew sloppy.

“I belong to you….no one else.”

He smirked so devilishly that I felt something more than butterflies in my stomach. Our kisses were met with biting of lower lips and Quinn grabbed my dress so tight I thought it was going to split. I wasted no time and began to unbutton his pants, dropping to my knees in the process. His dick sprung out of his boxers, dripping with pre-cum as my eyes widened.

“Stick your tongue out baby.”

My exposed tongue was met with his tip as he gently circled over my taste buds. I could taste him already, it was making my mouth salivate and run down my chin.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed as his free hand tugged on my hair. “Open your mouth for me.”

I did as I was told and Quinn slowly slid his erection into my mouth, inch by inch until his tip hit the back of my throat. He bit his lip as I began to slide my mouth up and down, his grip on my hair getting tighter.

“Fuck, baby this feels so good.” He deeply moaned, making me feel it in the back of my throat. “Such a good girl taking my whole dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

I could tell he was getting close with how laboured his breathing became. I removed my mouth from him and began to lick his tip that was glistening with my spit. He looked down at me with pleading eyes, as if me mouth fucking him was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Come in my mouth Quinn, I know what you want to.”

“Not yet.” His voice sounded so husky as he motioned for me to stand up. I wiped my mouth, taking a long look at him. “Your turn birthday girl.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as he picked me up and sat me on the bathroom counter. My back rested against the mirror as he spread my legs, situating himself between them. When our eyes met my heart felt like it was going to explode, I��ve never seen him like this before.

“How bad do you need me right now?” He asked, slowly taking my lip between his teeth again.

“I need you so fucking badly.”

He makes his home between my thighs and begins to tease me with his tip. I regretted wearing underwear tonight but feeling his pre cum soak the lace was the sweetest form of torture, and he knew it. 

“Tell me again…how bad do you need me?” I couldn’t get a word out. His laugh was dark as he fluttered his somber eyes at me, “use your words sweetheart, what do you want for your birthday?”  “I want you.”  “That’s a good start.” He muses, applying pressure on my thighs with his thumbs, “where do you want me?”

No words were leaving me as I gasped for air. Quinn began to run his mouth over my jaw, down to my collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin. I grabbed his hand and guided it between my thighs, his thumb instantly pressing onto my underwear.

“Right there?” He asks, slowly moving my underwear to the side. A small gasp in satisfaction left him as he felt how soaked I was for him. I just nodded, whimpering already from his touch. “Tell me how much you wish this was my dick instead?”

“Quinn, I need you please … I’m yours.”

“That’s my girl.” He replied so proudly, pushing his tip inside of me slowly. His head falls back once he’s fully inside me and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Fuck you feel so good, so fucking good.”  Quinn started off slowly, teasing my clit simultaneously with each stroke. He leaned into my ear, continuously praising me as his strokes became faster and harder. Sweat rolled down me as the building started up in my stomach, that familiar flutter began to take over and I knew I was done for. My nails dug into his back as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder as my orgasm left my body.

“Fuck I’m gonna -“

It only took a few seconds before he spilled into me. His hands gently found my face, guiding me to look at him. My legs were still shaking as he kissed me so softly. I was in a complete haze as we broke apart, that one unruly strand of hair fell in front of his face as he studied me. He was so beautiful, there were no other words to describe him.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He mused, gently kissing all the tattoos on my arm. Funny thing,

I never thought he’d go for a girl with a full sleeve and dark hair like me. He struck me as someone who went for blonde Instagram models but, once again he proved me wrong.

“You definitely just gave me the best birthday present ever.” I lightly laughed.

He titled his head to the side, cupping my cheek, “I don’t think anything will be beat the gift you gave me.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

#fanfic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #hughes brothers #hockey fanfiction #hockey smut

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vifilms · 1 year ago

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❝ TATTOO ARTIST!ELLIE ❞ ✶ ELLIE WILLIAMS !

♱

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, fem!reader, wlw sex, poc!friendly, switch!reader, switch!ellie, tbh loser!coded ellie, scissoring, ellie being soft and cute and love struck, tattoo artist!ellie, mentions of oral.

RAY RAMBLES ✶ i'm still feeling out writing for ellie, so be nice to me pls, this is the first thing i've posted for her. if not, i won't write for her again jk but seriously dont be mean to me

tattoo artist!ellie who you meet due to her forgetfulness. her black, leathered notebook gets left behind when she meets a friend at a local coffee shop. there’s a business card of a tattoo shop and you decide to take your chances with it and call the number. thankfully, it pans out to be the owner’s notebook. she, ellie, has apparently been tearing apart her apartment trying to find it. her voice floods all over as she whispers thank you just shy of a thousand times, her grateful pleas drip like honey all over you, sweetening you right through your core.

tattoo artist!ellie who is stunned from the first sight of you. the outfit you have on isn’t anything special, out of the ordinary, not it really isn’t but she can’t help the way her eyes wonder over. you have some tattoos which are visible, adding to the draw she feels towards you. soft shoulders are exposed in the strapless top you’re wearing, but your pants are bagging, hanging lowly at your hips, exposing a sliver of your lower stomach to her green, greedy eyes. a new, sultry and velvet, voice speaks her name and ellie knows she’ll do anything and everything to hear it again.

tattoo artist!ellie who gladly walks up to you, accepting the her notebook, desperately attempting not to fixate on the tingle spreading in her heart when she feels your soft finger slightly rub against the tip of her thumb. your sharp, gorgeous eyes look ellie once over before you offer her a smile, blinding ellie to any logical sensibility. do you like her? are you pleased? do you think she’s pretty too? is your heart beating or your fucking chest? are you having trouble breathing like she is?

tattoo artist!ellie who begins to blush profusely as you compliment her tattoos on her exposed bicep with the muscle tank she’s wearing. ellie doesn’t think it’s anything more than you being nice, returning the compliment you gave her, but then you’re touching her. nails painted with black nail polish, shiny but chipped, accentuate the line work. ellie wants to faint. jesse is sitting at the stool on the front counter and lets out a small chirp of a giggle, ellie thinks about punching him in the gut, but it means she would have to walk away from you so she opts out.

tattoo artist!ellie who does something out of the ordinary for her, offers for you to come by next week, saying you’ll tattoo her for a discounted price, something she would never agree to if you weren’t so hot, god if you don’t like her she thinks she’ll puke. but you agree, with your touch still on her slim, but defined bicep. the smirk you’re sporting makes the auburn haired girl nearly faint. evidently, you know just how to pull on her strings. you step in closer to her frame, kissing her sweetly on the cheek and she’s just as soft as you imagined. i’ll definitely take you up on your offer, els. see you next week.

tattoo artist!ellie who is paying close attention as she starts the line work. you came in wanting it down on your back, so ellie focused her attention on preparing the ink when while you situated yourself. by the time ellie had turned around, you were shirtless the side of your breasts exposed as she began. mentally, trying to convince herself she capable of being professional and not thinking about your tits in her mouth. the longer it went on, the more you talked, and the bigger ellie’s crush became.

tattoo artist!ellie who sports a sheepish smile when you start asking her about her life, how she became a tattoo artist, how long she’d be doing it, what were her least favorite designs to do. you ask about twenty question before the one you really want to ask.

“so, no girlfriend?” you wished you could see her, try to gage her reaction, her facial expressions, a smile or a grime? was she looking at you like she wants to eat you alive?

“no, but why not ask me if you have a boyfriend?”

“you’re not the type. am i wrong?”

all ellie does is smirk, shaking her head and clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth obnoxiously, yeah she’s not the type.

tattoo artist!ellie who finished but not without difficulty. you love to talk, usually ellie would find it irritating when she’s trying to focus but on you it’s cute. she asks if you want to see it, and you simply agree. you turn your back to the mirror, your chest fully exposed and ellie looks anywhere but or tries to. she focuses on your angel sent smile and the look of glee as you admit how much you love it to ellie. or els, she tries not be too excited about how happy you are about it.

tattoo artist!ellie who isn’t sure how it happened, how you’re even into her, but she says enough of the right things to get you into her car and back to her apartment. you’re pushing her against the door pressed against her sinfully, peppering playful bites as ellie fishes for her keys. you follow her into her home, her tongue pleading for dominance over hers and she really doesn’t put much of fight.

tattoo artist!ellie who moans as you sit your cunt on top of hers. it’s delicious the way you have her putty in your hand from the initial grind. your clit catching with hers, her strong hands finding your hips, thumb with a bruising pressure, as pause. ellie is going to ask what’s wrong but before she can, you’re spitting on her cunt, a string of saliva, your perfectly wet concoction, halts as it travels down her labia and your sinking slick first, moaning out a soft oh, fuck, els you feel perfect.

tattoo artist!ellie who loves to watching your tits bounce for her as you slowly pick up the pace, the tattoo on your sternum perfectly placed between them only fuels the stickiness between ellie’s thighs. she lets you create the pace, control her to your liking.

“do you like to be, uh oh- fuck, choked?” you ask as feel yourself lost it, the smacking of your slick combined with her spurring you on.

ellie grabs your hand, placing your delicate fingers along her delightful throat, “what do you think, babygirl?”

tattoo artist!ellie who is quite literally getting off on getting choked by you. the light pressure on her neck, combined with you rubbing against her pussy hips falling over her again and against has her clit throbbing. you’re so painfully hot it, claiming her, riding her pussy, whimpering out els els els, make me cum, please baby, i’m right there. yeah? are you there with me, baby?

tattoo artist!ellie who comes right along with you. she swears she sees the creator from above for a moment, flashes of white cloud her vision as you continue to fuck her, pulling every last drop until it’s spilling over your cunt, it’s not until then are you satisfied. you collapse on her, your breasts softly smashed against her own, a whine leaving your lips, hot breath on ellie’s ear nearly makes her buck up back into you.

“c’mon, get this pretty ass up and arched. have to taste this pretty pussy before it kills me not to.” ellie whispers but the two of you know it’s not a request, it’s a command. happily, you obey.

#IM FINALLY POSTING FOR ELLIE AHHHHH #also two posts in one day? im on a roll <3 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x poc reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie williams tlou #tlou x reader

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avdxl · 11 days ago

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The Red King's Prize- 18+! SMUT

summary: Y/N made a grave mistake when meeting Shanks. She caught his interest.

A/N: Summaries are hard. Hopefully the story is better lol.

pairing: Shanks X Female!Reader

wc: 5301

C/W: dubcon(?) just to be safe. kidnapping towards then end. slight overstimulation.

"Look lively, my sons!" bellowed the ship's captain. The crew of the Moby scurried about the deck, securing ropes and swabbing the planks. Whitebeard had a gentle but firm voice that could be heard over the crash of waves. His eyes twinkled with the excitement of a pirate's life, and his laugh lines deepened as he surveyed his men.

"Is that Akagami's ship?" one of the crew members shouted, pointing to the speck of red growing larger with each passing moment. The air was filled with a mix of excitement and tension. Shanks was a legend among legends, and his visits were never without incident.

"Aye, it is!" confirmed Whitebeard, squinting into the distance. His daughter, Y/N, emerged from the cabin, her curiosity piqued. She was a young woman with a spirit that matched her father's. "It's been too long since we had good company," he said, ruffling her hair.

"Father, what's so special about Shanks?" she asked, watching the ship draw closer. The name alone was enough to make the most hardened pirates whisper in awe.

Whitebeard turned to her, his gaze softening. "Shanks is a good man, he’s also a friend of sorts, as well as a powerful man." he said, his voice filled with a hint of pain and nostalgia. "But remember, he's got a peculiar sense of humor. Don't take anything he says to heart."

The ships docked with a thud that echoed through the Moby's wooden hull. Shanks' crew, a motley bunch of men, swaggered onto the deck, their captain at the forefront. Shanks was a tall man, with a mischievous glint in his eye and three scars that slashed across his eye.

"Whitebeard, my old friend!" he called out, a wide grin splitting his face. The two men embraced, their laughter booming through the salty air. The crew of the Moby watched as the two pirate lords exchanged greetings like old comrades.

Y/N, feeling a bit shy, hovered at the edge of the group, taking in the scene. That's when she felt it - a pair of eyes on her, assessing her from head to toe. She looked up and met Shanks' gaze. His smile didn't falter, but his eyes held a darker, more intense look than she was expecting. It sent a shiver down her spine.

"And who is this beauty?" Shanks asked, his eyes never leaving hers. The question hung in the air, and she felt the weight of his stare.

Whitebeard beamed with pride. "This is my daughter, Y/N."

The crew grew silent. The air grew thicker, charged with an energy she couldn't quite put her finger on. Shanks stepped forward, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden planks. He extended a hand to her, and she took it, feeling the rough calluses of a seasoned pirate.

"A pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he said, his grip firm. There was something about the way he said her name, something that made her feel both thrilled and uneasy. As he leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek, he whispered, "We're going to have some fun together, you and I."

The crew erupted into laughter, slapping each other's backs and shouting toasts. But Y/N felt the seriousness behind his words. It was as if he had made a silent promise, or perhaps a veiled threat. She couldn't tell which.

The evening grew dark, and the stars twinkled above like scattered jewels on a velvet cloak. The two crews drank and sang, sharing tales of adventure and treasure. Yet, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that this night was the start of something she didn't quite understand. Shanks remained by her side, his presence both comforting and unsettling.

As the party began to wind down, and the crew members stumbled back to their quarters, Y/N made her way to her cabin, her thoughts racing. She was tired, but the anticipation of the night's events kept her from finding peace. Shanks, ever the gentleman, insisted on seeing Y/N to her door. His boisterous laughter grew quieter as they descended the stairs, the shadows stretching out before them like the arms of the sea at night.

The corridor grew still, the only sound the distant echo of the ocean's lullaby. Y/N turned the knob and pushed the door open, the candlelight inside casting a warm glow onto the wooden floor. She stepped in, expecting Shanks to bid her goodnight, but instead, he followed her, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt a flutter of panic, but she stood her ground, refusing to show fear.

"I've been watching you all night," he said, his tone hushed. "There's something about you, something... intriguing." He stepped closer, the scent of rum and saltwater clinging to his clothes. Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, unsure of what was happening. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but I intend to find out."

Before she could respond, Shanks reached out and touched her cheek gently, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. The gesture was so tender it sent a shiver through her body. She looked into his eyes, searching for a hint of his intentions, but all she found was an enigmatic smile. He leaned in, his breath warm and sweet with the scent of the fine wine they'd shared earlier. His lips brushed against hers in a kiss that was as soft as a whisper, yet it seemed to echo through the very core of her being.

The kiss was unexpected, but Y/N didn't pull away. Instead, she found herself leaning into it, feeling the promise of something powerful stirring within her. As they parted, she realized that she had been holding her breath. Shanks' gaze remained locked on hers, and she felt a strange warmth spread through her, as if she had just uncovered a hidden treasure. The moment hung between them, and for a second, Y/N's mind went blank.

Emboldened by the kiss and the emotions it stirred, Shanks decided to push the boundaries further. His hand reached for her waist, pulling her into his muscular embrace. His touch was firm, yet not forceful. It was as if he was testing the waters, gauging her reaction. The air grew thick with tension, and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers.

Shanks released a low growl, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. He no longer bothered with pleasantries or sweet talk; there was no more need for such trivialities between them. Y/N's breath hitched as she felt his arousal pressing against her stomach. His grip tightened, a silent demand for her submission, and she felt herself melt into his touch, her body craving him.

He spun her around, her back pressing against the cold, hard wood of the cabin wall. His mouth found hers in a bruising kiss, his teeth biting into her lower lip just hard enough to draw a gasp. His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck. He kissed and licked along her throat, leaving a trail of heat that made her shiver with need. His hand leaving her hair and roaming down her body, cupping her ass and squeezing roughly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

"Pops won't be happy if he sees us like this," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the gentle rocking of the ship.

Shanks chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to resonate in her very bones. "Let's not worry about that just yet," he said, his voice smooth as silk. He leaned in again, his lips finding hers again demanding, full of passion and a hint of something darker.

Y/N's resolve wavered. She knew she should push him away, but instead, she found herself responding, her own hands moving up to tangle in his hair. The kiss grew deeper, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. She could feel the heat of his desire, and it ignited something within her that she had never felt before. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Finally, she managed to break away, gasping for air. "We can't," she said, her voice trembling. "This isn't right."

Shanks leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Why not?" he asked, his hand still resting on her bare waist. "You're a pirate. Surely, you know that life at sea is about seizing moments of pleasure when they come."

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Because... because my dad—."

He chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Whitebeard and I are more than just friendly, Y/N. We share something deeper, more akin to brothers. Plus.." His hand slid up her side, and she felt his thumb trace the edge of her bra strap. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to know you better."

His words were like a siren's song, tempting and dangerous. She knew she should resist, but the desire within her was growing too strong. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she had made up her mind.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But only if you promise to keep this between us."

Shanks' smile grew sharper, his teeth flashing in the candlelight. He leaned in, his breath hot on her neck. "I can do that," he murmured, deftly unbuttoning her dress. It slid to the floor, and she stepped out of it, feeling the cool air of the cabin kiss her skin.

Without warning, he hoisted her onto the bed, the mattress groaned under their combined weight, the springs protesting as he began to grind his hips into her. The friction between their bodies sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, and she moaned into his mouth. His hand traveled up to her chest, squeezing her breast until she whimpered. His thumb flicked over her hardened nipple, sending an electric shock straight to her core.

Shanks' hand then slid down to the apex of her thighs, pushing aside the damp fabric that barely contained her arousal. He groaned into her ear, feeling how wet she was for him. His fingers teased her clit, rubbing in slow, agonizing circles that had her writhing beneath him. Y/N's nails dug into his back as she tried to pull him closer, needing more, always more. He chuckled darkly, enjoying the way she squirmed in his grasp. He knew he had her right where he wanted her; desperate and begging for release.

The moment his finger slid inside her, she threw her head back, arching off the bed. He pumped in and out, adding another digit, stretching her until she was ready for what was to come. Her pussy clenched around his digits, her inner walls quivering with anticipation. The room was filled with the sounds of their harsh breathing and the slick noises of his hand moving within her. He could feel her muscles tightening, her orgasm building like a storm about to break.

Y/N's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and excitement. She had never been with a man before, and she had always thought it would be with someone she knew, someone she trusted. But here she was, in the grasp of the notorious Shanks, a stranger she's only vaguely heard about, feeling a passion that she had only ever dreamed of.

Y/N tried to keep up, her own desires spiraling out of control. But she could feel the shift in him, the way his kisses turned from tender to bruising, his hand moving from exploratory to possessive. A part of her wanted to stop, to demand gentleness, but the thrill of the forbidden and the power she felt in his embrace kept her from speaking. Suddenly, she was aware of his weight pressing down on her, his body a wall of heat and strength that made her feel both protected and trapped.

Shanks wasn't done with her yet. He withdrew his hand, leaving her panting and needy. He undid his pants with a swift movement, his cock springing free. It was thick and hard, a testament to his desire. He positioned himself at her entrance, pausing for a moment to enjoy the view of her flushed skin and glazed eyes. Shanks didn't waste any time, pushing aside the last barrier of her innocence with a grunt of pleasure. The pain was sharp, but it was quickly overridden by the sheer force of his desire. He set a brutal pace, his hips slapping against hers with a rhythm that was as relentless as the waves outside. The sounds of their union filled the cabin, a symphony of flesh and passion that seemed to resonate with the very soul of the ship.

Y/N's eyes widened as she felt herself stretched to the limits, her body struggling to keep up with his. Yet, with each thrust, she felt a strange, primal satisfaction blooming within her. It was as if she had been waiting for this all her life, waiting to be claimed by a man who could match her in strength and spirit.

Y/N's scream of pleasure was muffled by the pillow she'd buried her face in, her body shuddering around him. Shanks's hips continued to slam into her, the bed frame rattling with the force of his movements. Each thrust hit her G-spot with unerring precision, sending bolts of pleasure through her body. Her walls clamped down around him, trying to keep him inside her as he withdrew, only to be filled again and again. She could feel herself climbing towards climax, the pressure building with each violent collision of their bodies.

His one good hand continued to maul her breast, pinching and pulling at her nipple until she thought she might go mad with need. The hand that had been in her hair now held her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were dark with lust, the scars around his eye standing out starkly against his flushed skin.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a guttural rumble that seemed to resonate through her very bones. "You'll always be mine."

Her breathing grew ragged as she felt his urgency, his need to claim her. His kisses turned almost violent, as if he was afraid she would slip away. It was overwhelming, and she clung to him, as she tried to find an anchor in the storm of sensations.

Her cries grew louder, mingling with the grunts of his exertion. The cabin walls seemed to close in around them, the air thick with the scent of lust and the salt of the sea. She could feel the tension building, a coil of heat and need that was threatening to consume her.

The possessiveness in his words sent her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, making her entire body convulse. She screamed his name, her nails raking down his back, drawing blood. He didn't flinch, just grinned, his eyes alight with triumph. He knew she was his, body and soul.

And as he continued to pound into her, her body still spasming around his cock, she couldn't help but admit that she liked it. Liked being claimed so fiercely, so completely, by this man who could take everything from her and give her the world in return. The world of pleasure and pain, of love and obsession, of being his in every conceivable way.

Shanks growled, his movements becoming even more frantic. He was close, she could feel it. The warmth of his breath against her ear was the only sound she could discern amidst the cacophony of their passion.

And then, with a final roar, he reached his peak, filling her to the brim with his seed. Y/N's eyes widened as she felt the warmth spreading inside her, the reality of what had just transpired crashing down like a tempest. She had given herself to this man, this enigma of power and darkness, and she wasn't sure if she would ever be the same.

Shanks' weight remained on her for a moment, his breathing heavy and ragged, as if he had fought a fierce battle and emerged the victor, but his desire for her was a never-ending maelstrom that she was all too eager to drown in. He flipped her onto her stomach, her cheek pressed into the pillow, her ass in the air. His hand slapped down on her flesh, leaving a red imprint that only added to the heat building between her legs. He positioned himself behind her, his cock nudging at her entrance. With a savage grunt, he thrust into her again, filling her completely.

The angle was different this time, deeper, hitting places inside her that had never been touched before. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he began to move, his strokes long and slow, almost tender despite his feral hunger. He reached around, his hand finding her clit, his fingers working it in time with his hips. She was so sensitive now, so close to the edge, that it only took a few moments before she was climaxing once more, her body shaking with the intensity of it.

As he came, he pulled out and immediately slammed back in, pushing his cum back into her with a brutal force that made her whine. His hand was a vice around her neck now, holding her down as he continued to fuck her through his orgasm. He didn't care if it was painful; all he knew was that he needed to be as deep inside her as possible, needed to fill her up with his seed. It was a declaration of ownership, a promise of what was to come.

He didn't stop, though. If anything, his movements grew more frenzied, more possessive. He was breeding her, marking her in the most primal way possible. His cock pulsed inside her, filling her with his seed, claiming her womb. He groaned with the effort, his grip on her tight enough to leave bruises. Y/N could feel every inch of him, making her his in every way that mattered.

When he was finally spent, he collapsed onto her, his heavy weight pressing her into the mattress. His chest heaved with exertion, his breath hot against her neck. For a moment, there was only the sound of the ocean outside and their mingled gasps. Then, slowly, he began to move again, his cock still half-hard, still buried within her. He was not content, not yet satisfied until she was a trembling, boneless mess beneath him.

His hips rolled in a gentle, almost loving motion, his hand stroking her back in a soothing pattern that belied the aggression of their earlier coupling. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the heat of their passion. It was a strange kind of contentment, one she hadn't felt in a long time. Despite the dubious circumstances of their relationship, she knew that she craved this, craved him.

With a final, deep thrust, Shanks withdrew from her, his cock slick with their combined juices. He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she straddled his waist.. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

The silence was deafening, the only sound was the soft lapping of the sea against the ship's hull.

Giving her a moment to catch her breath, he watched her, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. The intensity in his gaze made her feel as though she was a treasure he had just plundered, a prize to be savored and claimed again. Then, with a sudden, surprising gentleness, he reached out and traced the curve of her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to find the words to express the tumult of emotions that were storming through her. Before she could speak, however, Shanks positioned himself at her entrance, and she felt the head of his cock nudge against her, still sensitive and swollen from their first coupling.

With a smirk that was both playful and predatory, he grabbed her again and thrust upwards, filling her once more. She gasped, her eyes flying open wide in shock and pleasure. She began to rock her hips, setting a slow pace that had them both groaning in ecstasy. His fingers gripped her waist, guiding her movements, urging her to go faster, harder. The cabin spun around her as she gave herself over to the feeling of him inside her, his cock hitting all the right spots, over and over again.

Her breasts bounced with each movement, the pain from his earlier mauling a sweet reminder of his possession. She leaned forward and took his mouth in another hungry kiss. Their tongues danced together, a false battle for dominance that mirrored their physical union. She could feel his pulse beneath her, the beat of his heart matching the tempo of their lovemaking.

Shanks's hand found her breasts again, kneading and squeezing them as she rode him. His thumb brushing over her sensitive nipples, sending sparks of pleasure to her clit. She moaned into his mouth, her walls tightening around his shaft. He groaned, his hips bucking up to meet hers, his own need for release growing more urgent.

Their rhythm grew faster, more erratic, as they approached their peak. Y/N's nails dug into his chest, leaving behind hints of pain that only seemed to fuel his desire. She threw her head back, her eyes rolling back in her head as another orgasm began to build. Shanks watched her face, his own twisted with pleasure, his grip on her hips tightening as he felt his own climax approaching.

With a final, powerful thrust, she ground herself against him, her muscles spasming around his cock as she reached her peak. Shanks roared his release, his hips jerking up to meet hers, his cum flooding her once more. They remained like that for a moment, locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies joined in the most intimate way possible.

But Shanks wasn't one to rest for long. He flipped her onto her back, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to kiss down her body. His mouth found her breasts, sucking and biting, his tongue swirling around her nipples. His hand traveled between her legs, his fingers sliding through her wetness and back into her. She gasped, her body already on edge from the last orgasm.

"I said all night," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "And we've only just begun."

Y/N knew she was in for a long night of pleasure and pain. She could feel the exhaustion tugging at her, but the desire that burned in her was stronger. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him back inside her, eager for more. He chuckled, his breath hot against her skin, and gave her what she wanted. His cock slammed into her again, hard and fast, setting a pace that she knew she wouldn't be able to keep up with for long.

Shanks' fingers dug into her flesh, guiding her as he plunged into her time and again. Her orgasms came in waves, each one more powerful than the last, her cries echoing through the cabin. He watched her face, his own a mask of concentration and desire, his eyes never leaving hers, as if he was searching for something within the depths of her soul.

Hour after hour, he took her, switching positions with an ease that spoke of long practice. He was relentless, driving her to climax after climax until she could hardly move, until she was nothing but a quivering mess of pleasure and pain. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair plastered to her face.

He fucked her like a toy, a possession to be used and enjoyed at his leisure.Yet, she never once asked him to stop. She reveled in the feeling of being used, of being his. Her pussy clenched around his cock, her walls fluttering. It was messy, their bodies slick with sweat and cum, the bed soaked beneath them. She never felt more alive, it was like she was the center of his world, the focus of his insatiable hunger.

Shanks's touch grew rougher as the night wore on, his kisses bruising, his grip on her body punishing. He took her in every way he could think of, pushing her limits until she thought she would break. Yet, she didn't. Each time she thought she couldn't handle any more, she found a deeper well of strength within herself, a need to satisfy him that overrode any discomfort or weariness.

The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking: the slap of skin on skin, the wet sounds of their union, the guttural noises of their pleasure. Y/N's cries grew louder, more desperate, as Shanks pounded into her. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and primal in his need for release. And she was more than willing to be swept away by the storm.

He whispered dark, possessive things in her ear, his breath hot and ragged. He told her she belonged to him, that she would always come back for more, that she craved this just as much as he did. And as much as she tried to deny it, she knew he was right. Her body responded to him like nothing else ever had, her orgasms more intense, more all-consuming than any she had experienced before. There would be no escape from his obsession, no refuge from the storm of passion that was Shanks.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, as if they had been lovers for a hundred lifetimes, and yet this was the first night they had ever shared. It was a dance of dominance and submission, of passion and power, and she found herself lost in it, unable to do anything but give herself over to the storm that raged between them.

As the night slowly crept day, their rhythm grew more frenzied, their cries melding with the cries of the gulls outside. She felt as if she was being torn apart, only to be reborn in the cradle of his arms, a creature of the sea, forever bound to this man of darkness and fire.

Shanks' grip on her hips tightened as he claimed his own release shuddering through his body.

As dawn began to break, painting the horizon in shades of pink and gold, Shanks rolled her onto her side, his cock still buried deep within her. His hand found her clit, his thumb stroking it with a finesse that belied the brutal passion of the night. He whispered sweet nothings, his voice a soothing balm to her overstimulated senses.

Y/N's eyes grew heavy, her body begging for rest. But she knew it wouldn't come just yet. His obsession with her was a never-ending cycle of desire and fulfillment. As she felt herself drifting off, she was already anticipating the next round, the next time he would take her, claim her, use her. It was a small price to pay for the exhilarating experience she had just shared with the legendary pirate

Reality started to set in. Y/N felt a cold dread coil in her stomach. She had given herself to Shanks, an act that would have repercussions she could not begin to fathom. She could feel the intensity of his gaze as he held her against him. His chest was a wall of heat, his breaths coming in ragged gasps against her neck. Her body was sore.. Carefully, she tried to disentangle herself, but he held fast, his grip unyielding.

"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and satisfaction. She stiffened, not daring to look back at him. "Our time is far from over," he added with a chuckle, his hand sliding down to cup her breast.

Panic set in as she realized she couldn't escape. Not now, not like this. Her father's cabin was just a few doors down, but she knew that calling for help was out of the question. Shanks was too powerful, too dangerous. If Whitebeard found out about their tryst, it could mean war between the two pirate crews.

So, when he finally dragged her to his feet and led her, still naked, to the upper deck, she didn't protest. The crew of the Moby went about their morning routines, not sparing them a second glance. It was as if they had known this would happen all along, as if her fate had been sealed the moment Shanks had stepped aboard.

The air was crisp and salty, the sea breeze a stark contrast to the warmth of the cabin. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting the world in a soft, golden light. It was a beautiful sight, but one she couldn't appreciate. Not when she was being led like a lamb to slaughter.

Whitebeard was at the railing, his back to them. He didn't turn as they approached, didn't acknowledge them in any way. Y/N felt herself shiver, it was as though this was the only outcome, as if it was always going to end this way.

Shanks' grip on her arm was firm, almost painful, but she kept her head held high, refusing to let the fear show on her face. The silence was deafening as Shanks' ship, the Red Force, loomed into view, its sails fluttering like a crimson flag of conquest. The crew of the Moby had already lowered the ropes, Shanks stepped onto the plank first, pulling her along with him. The wood groaned under their combined weight, the plank swaying precariously over the churning sea below.

Y/N's heart was in her throat as she looked back at her father's ship, the only home she had ever known. The men she had grown up with, the men she called her brothers, were watching her leave with the enemy. Yet, none of them made a move to stop it.

The plank hit the deck of the Red Haired with a thud, and she stumbled, almost falling. Shanks caught her, his laughter echoing in the early morning air. "Steady, love," he said, his tone mocking. "You're going to have to get your sea legs if you're going to keep up with me."

The Red-Haired Pirates watched with amusement, their eyes glinting with a mix of lust and cruelty. She knew she was in for a rough ride with these men, but she also knew she had no choice. As Shanks led her to his quarters, she steeled herself for what was to come.

The cabin was opulent, a stark contrast to the spartan rooms of the Moby. Plush fabrics and gold trim adorned everything, from the velvet curtains to the intricately carved desk. It was a den of excess, a reflection of the man who owned it.

Shanks released her arm and she stumbled forward, her legs still unsteady. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move with a predatory gaze. "Welcome to your new home," he said, his smile wicked.

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes taking in every detail of the room. There was no going back now. She was Shanks' prize, his plaything. The daughter of Whitebeard, claimed by the very man who might one day seek to usurp her father's throne. And she had willingly let it happen.

The door slammed shut behind them, and she knew she was truly in his clutches.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #shanks x reader #shanks smut #female!reader #one piece x female reader

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rafesbabygirlx · 22 days ago

Note

can you write something about sarah guiding reader to have an orgasm on her own? reader's super innocent so sarah teaches her, and it's really hot while she guides her through her orgasm? thanks

eeeeeeeeeeee this is tew good

𝚋𝚜𝚏!𝚂𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚑 𝚡 𝚋𝚜𝚏!𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

“Sarah this doesn’t feel right,” you say in frustration pulling your fingers from yourself and throwing yourself back on her bed.

“You’re probably not hit it at the right angle,” Sarah giggles crawling closer to you.

“I’ve never done this before, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” you roll your eyes.

It’s frustrating that you’re the last of your friends to be a virgin. It’s embarrassing to have never even masturbated. And now it’s annoying to have your best friend sitting over your half naked body trying to help you figure it out.

“Let me try,” Sarah smiles down at you and you snap your head up.

Sarah runs her fingers up and down your folds collecting your slick. She slides 2 fingers to you entrance and slowly slides in. She begins to pump into you, trying different angles, curling her fingers, trying to see what exactly pulls a reaction from you.

She knows she’s got it when you gasp out and arch your back. She hits it a couple of times over before pulling out. You’re brought back to reality with the sudden loss of her fingers.

“See, just gotta find your sweet spot, now try it again and do this,” Sarah raises her hand, waving her 2 fingers to mimic a curl.

“Got it,” you reach back down, pushing 2 of your own fingers back inside. You adjust a little to the right and begin curling your fingers. Your back arches again and your jaw drops from finding that juicy spot in the back.

The good feeling makes you speed up, loving the unfamiliar burning feeling developing in your lower stomach. Sarah noticed the reaction too and smiles knowing you’re getting close.

“You’re gonna come soon,” she whispers trying not to break your concentration.

“Y-yeah,” you moan and throw your head back.

Your legs start to shake and Sarah tells you to go quicker.

“That’s it, keep going,”

You cry out as a your vision goes white and your body shudders as you come. Sarah tells you what to do next.

“Feels good right? Keep going, ride it out.”

You continue to pump, clenching your eyes at the powerful overstimulation.

“Good, now slowly slow down.”

You do as she says, slowly easing the rhythm of your hand. The feeling is euphoric. Your breath keeps hitching as you prolong your orgasm. You get over that last flash of relief, come to a complete stop pulling out.

Sarah grab the washcloth she brought over earlier and wipes off your fingers. “See, I told you it feels amazing.”

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

#sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron fluff #sarah cameron smut #sarah obx #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron outer banks #outer banks sarah #sarah x reader #sarah outer banks #sarah cameron #obx smut #obx sarah #outer banks smut #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #asks 💞

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bedlam-barbie · 11 days ago

Text

Sucker for pain

Or Attention part 4

Pairing: In Ho x recruiter!reader ; salesman x recruiter!reader; somehow this became a love triangle

Warnings:jealous!InHo; power play; knife play;dom!salesman; sub!reader; marks, bruises and hickies; love triangles yadda yadda; hurt no comfort; no smut but explicit content

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: After the events at the ball, reader is left shaken, reckless and in need to quiet the voices, so she does what she does best: runs to Salesman’s bed. Regrettably so, she has to face In ho the next morning in the board meeting.

Author’s note: I know it’s been a while, but I have been stressed, had a massive writer’s block, felt like quitting it a bunch of times. This chapter is very Salesman heavy, I took the decision to make it a full-blown love triangle, especially after reading your comments and it is not the last part. Now I want to write more. Anyway, shoutout to my best friend, Leila who proofread this for me and supported me to continue.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

After the chaos had died down, she found herself doing what she knew best—seeking refuge in the Salesman. The world outside felt too loud, too suffocating, so she retreated into the familiar silence he offered. As always, Gong Yoo was waiting for her in his hotel room, unwavering, ready to deliver whatever she needed. He never asked why she was upset, never pried into why her mood had shifted so dramatically in just a few short hours. He didn’t need to know the reasons behind the storm inside her. It was something she’d come to rely on—his quiet presence. No questions, no judgment, no awkward silences or almost-kisses that threatened to turn into something more. Just two people using each other for comfort, for escape. That was the arrangement, and it worked.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the emptiness in her chest felt too vast, the numbness too heavy. The fleeting moments of connection they shared no longer seemed to fill the void. She needed more. She needed something—anything—that would make her feel even the smallest glimmer of life again, something to shake her out of the fog that had settled over her. She wasn’t sure if it was him she was looking for or if it was just a desperate search for something real in a world that had lost its meaning.

“Get out your pretty knife and put it to good use, Salesman,” she purred, her voice low and dangerous, teasing at the edges of desire.

A flicker of intrigue darkened his gaze. His lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile, the kind that always made her pulse race. “Not that I don’t appreciate this sudden interest in knife play,” he mused, voice velvet-smooth, “but are you sure, darling?”

She tilted her head, unbothered by his faux concern. Shadows danced across her features as candlelight flickered between them. “Do you suddenly not wish to dominate me completely, Gong Yoo?” Her words were a sultry challenge, daring him to prove himself. “Because I, for one, want to be at your mercy tonight.”

His brow lifted at her boldness, though the faintest hint of hesitation lingered. Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps something more fragile, flickering briefly in the quiet space between their breaths.

“And here I thought I was the reckless one,” he drawled, stepping closer, his silhouette swallowing the light between them. “Why tonight, hmm?”

A beat of silence passed before she spoke again, her tone softer now—stripped of its earlier bravado. “I just need the world to stop spinning for a while.” Her voice wavered ever so slightly, but her gaze held steady.

The raw honesty of her plea hung in the air like smoke, clinging to both of them. For a moment, the predatory gleam in his eyes dulled, replaced by something gentler. He reached out, fingertips grazing the side of her face, tracing the path where warmth bloomed beneath her skin.

“Good,” he said darkly. “Then let’s make the world stop spinning.”

And that was good enough for him. His lips crashed against hers, rough and insistent, as Gong Yoo pushed her firmly against the wall. His right hand closed around her wrists, pinning them effortlessly above her head. The blade lingered on her thigh, cool against the warmth of her skin. His fingers traced its path with deliberate slowness, pressing possessively into the tender flesh. She gasped as his grip tightened, pleasure and pain blurring into something irresistible.

A soft moan escaped her lips, raw and unbidden.

He pressed the blade deeper, just enough to sting, the sharp edge sending a fresh jolt through her body. Her pulse quickened, thrumming wildly beneath the steel as he drew her higher, higher still.

Then, with a swift, practised motion, he tore the blade upward, slicing through the gold fabric that clung to her curves. The dress fell away in shreds, pooling at her feet like liquid gold.

A shiver coursed down her spine as cool air kissed her fevered skin, the contrast only intensifying the heat that simmered between them.

His gaze flickered over her, dark and consuming.

The blade, cold and unforgiving, traced the curve of her waist as his grip on her tightened, pulling her closer. A shiver ran through her, the contrast of the sharp metal and his rough touch sending sparks through her body. Her breath quickened, every nerve alight with anticipation.

The chaos inside her seemed to quiet, the only sound between them the rhythmic thumping of her heart, drowning out everything else. Only the heat between them remained, feverish and consuming. Her body responded instinctively, seeking him with a desperation she no longer cared to hide. Every touch, every rough press of flesh against flesh, drove her deeper into reckless oblivion where nothing else mattered.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice rough against her ear. “I thought you liked to fight.”

A breathless laugh escaped her, shaky and raw. “Maybe I’m tired of fighting.”

His lips brushed the curve of her neck, featherlight but devastating in their effect. “Good,” he whispered darkly. “Then stop resisting.”

The blade withdrew, leaving a ghost of cold in its wake. His free hand slid down her arm, guiding her wrist to rest against his chest, palm pressed flat over the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

She nodded, unable to find words.

“That’s all that matters now,” he said. “Me. You. Nothing else.”

His fingers curled tighter around her wrist, pulling her closer still. The blade hovered over her skin for a moment, a pause that felt like an eternity. Then, with a swift, practised motion, he pressed it deeper against her exposed breast, the sharp sting a welcome interruption to the numbness that had consumed her for so long.

A breathless gasp escaped her lips, her body instinctively arching toward him. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside ceased to exist. Everything that had once felt heavy, suffocating, was suddenly distant, replaced by a sharp clarity that only he could bring. Sweat slicked their skin as they moved together, the intensity building like a storm on the verge of breaking. Her nails dug into his back, marking him as surely as he had marked her, and the low growl that rumbled from his chest only fueled her further.

But there was no hesitation now, no trace of doubt. His grip on her tightened as he claimed her completely, stripping away every last fragment of the world outside until only they remained—raw, unguarded, and utterly consumed by each other.

The moment the high ebbed away, the weight of reality crept back in, slow and suffocating. The hotel room was cold, heavy with silence, the chaotic heat they had conjured was now reduced to fading embers.

She reached for the ashtray on the nightstand, retrieving a crumpled pack of Marlboro Lights. The familiar flick and hiss of the lighter cut through the stillness as she lit up, the first drag settling low in her lungs. Without a word, she tilted the pack toward him in offering.

He accepted with a lazy grin, taking his time before lighting his own cigarette. Smoke curled between them like a veil, thin and intangible.

“So,” he drawled, amusement flickering in his voice, “are we supposed to indulge in some aftercare now, doll?”

A laugh burst from her, sharp and unfiltered. “Please,” she scoffed. “As if you even know how to provide it.” She took another drag, exhaling slowly. “This right here? Chain-smoking in a hotel bed? That’s the only kind of aftercare we’ll ever have.”

He chuckled low in his throat. “Sharp tongue for someone who couldn’t even speak five minutes ago.” His eyes gleamed wickedly. “Was it the Frontman again? Did he break your pretty little heart?”

Her jaw tightened at the mention, but she masked the sting with a bored exhale, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “What’s it to you?” she shot back coolly. “You got to play psycho killer with me tonight, didn’t you?”

Gong Yoo tilted his head, mock sincerity softening his features. “True,” he admitted with a grin. “And I must say—you scream beautifully. Though I have to admit, I’m curious.”

The weight of his gaze lingered, too observant for her liking. She let the question dangle unanswered, shifting instead to inspect the thin red lines tracing her skin, still raw and angry. Some cuts shimmered faintly with beads of blood where the blade had pressed just a little too deep. She wrinkled her nose, dragging her thumb across one without thinking.

“Your handiwork is a bit much,” she muttered, exhaling smoke through pursed lips. “These bruises are going to be visible from a mile away.”

His smirk widened. “Good. Think of them as souvenirs.”

She rolled her eyes, the ghost of a reluctant smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he teased, “here you are.”

She flicked ash into the tray, leaning back against the headboard as cool air kissed her overheated skin. The sheets clung to her thighs, damp from sweat and tangled like remnants of the chaos they'd just unleashed. Her pulse was finally slowing, but the ache beneath her ribs persisted—a dull, stubborn weight.

Drawing in another drag, she broke the silence. “And just for the record,” she said flatly, “the Frontman has nothing to do with this.”

The Salesman arched a brow, scepticism radiating from him even as he reclined casually beside her. “Mm, sure. Totally unrelated,” he drawled, dragging the words out just enough to make them sting.

“I just needed a break,” she added, the lie sliding from her lips with practised ease. But even as the words escaped, doubt lingered in their wake. Was she lying only to him, or to herself as well? The truth was tangled somewhere between desperation and denial, buried too deep for her to untangle right now.

The smoke curled lazily between them, thickening the already-charged air. He didn’t press, though the glint in his eyes told her he wasn’t fooled. He rarely was. Instead, he stretched his arm along the back of the headboard, the casual sprawl of a man who had seen all her defences crumble and wasn’t fazed in the slightest.

“You're good at that,” he remarked lazily.

“At what?”

“Pretending you’re fine when you’re clearly not.”

Her body stiffened , but she forced herself to stay composed, to meet his gaze without flinching. “Maybe I am fine,” she shot back.

“Maybe,” he conceded with a smirk, though it was clear he didn’t believe a word of it.

Silence settled again, heavy but not uncomfortable. The cigarette burned low between her fingers, and she crushed it into the ashtray with deliberate force, as if extinguishing more than just embers.

For now, she’d let the lie stand. It was easier that way. Even if the ache beneath her ribs told her otherwise.“You did a marvellous job with my dress,” she drawled sarcastically, gesturing toward the shredded gold fabric scattered across the floor like discarded petals. “How the hell am I supposed to leave your room now? Naked?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, amused. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling the sheet loosely around her body like a makeshift toga. “Right. Because a naked woman casually strolling through a five-star hotel hallway in the middle of the night definitely won’t turn heads.”

He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, eyes glinting mischievously. “If you want, I could make you a dress out of pillowcases.”

“Wow, fashion genius,” she deadpanned, lifting an eyebrow. “Next stop: Paris Fashion Week?”

He shrugged, flicking ash from his cigarette with practised ease. “I’m just saying, doll—you pull off dishevelled pretty damn well.”

“Shut up and give me one of your shirts, darling,” she quipped, mimicking his syrupy tone as she deliberately mocked the pet name.

He chuckled, the sound deep and lazy. “Ah, so the sharp tongue’s back already. Impressive recovery.”

She arched her brow. “Are you going to keep talking, or do I need to dig through your suitcase myself?”

He flicked the cigarette into the ashtray, the cherry-red ember dying with a faint hiss. Rising from the bed, he moved with deliberate slowness, clearly enjoying her impatience. Her eyes tracked him as he sauntered to the chair where his clothes were draped haphazardly.

With a flourish far too theatrical, he plucked a black button-up shirt from the pile and threw it at her. “Finally, some chivalry,” she muttered, slipping it over her bare shoulders. The fabric hung loosely on her frame, the hem skimming just below her thighs. His scent clung to it—spice and smoke, heady and inescapable. She rolled up the sleeves with ease, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered.

“You wear it better than I do,” he remarked, leaning casually against the dresser.

“Obviously,” she shot back, buttoning only two buttons before turning to face him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a walk of shame to make.”

He grinned, unrepentant. “If anyone asks, just tell them I sent you.”

“Right,” she said dryly, heading for the door. Slipping her heels back on, she straightened the oversized shirt and made her way to her room. Thankfully, it was on the same floor, sparing her the added humiliation of waiting for an elevator in her current state. The hallway stretched silent and empty, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpet.

The next morning, she woke up at exactly 6:00 AM, her body aching in places she hadn’t even known could hurt. The Frontman had summoned an emergency board meeting before breakfast, and the weight of the past weekend pressed down on her like an iron shroud. She was beyond done with the never-ending cycle of obligations. The gala, the endless small talk, the shared meals with high-profile VIPs—every moment had drained her, leaving behind only exhaustion. And now, with the board meeting looming, she had no choice but to pull herself out of bed, whether her body cooperated or not.

With a sigh, she dragged herself into the bathroom, stepping into the shower. The scalding water cascaded over her skin, soothing her sore muscles but doing little to wash away the memories of the night before. As she towelled off, she turned to the mirror, eyeing the aftermath of her latest game with the Salesman. The damage was extensive. Deep purple bruises kissed her collarbones, staining her skin like paint on a canvas. Thin, faded lines—remnants of his blade—ran along her ribs, whispering stories of sharp edges and unspoken challenges. She looked like a masterpiece of perfectly contained chaos.

Was this it? Had she finally lost her mind?

The thought should have been unsettling. It should have made her stomach churn, should have filled her with shame. But it didn’t. Instead, a slow, dark satisfaction curled in her chest, a quiet thrill at the memories flickering through her mind. Why did it feel so good to reminisce?

She pushed the thought away before it could take root. There was no time for distractions.

Moving with practised ease, she selected an outfit that was both elegant and authoritative—an emerald green silk blouse that draped over her frame, tucked into a fitted black pencil skirt with a tasteful slit at the back. She slipped on her favourite red-bottom heels, the click of the soles against the floor grounding her as she moved. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face as she applied her makeup, carefully concealing the stubborn marks on her neck and chest. She cursed under her breath, blaming Gong Yoo and his insufferable obsession with marking her skin.

By the time she stepped out of her suite, the lavish hotel hallways stretched before her, pristine and eerily quiet at this early hour. She walked with purpose, ignoring the faint hum of tiredness still clinging to her limbs. The top floor housed the conference room, a space reserved for only the highest-ranking members of the organization. As she pushed open the heavy double doors, the tension in the room was palpable.

The men were already seated.

At the head of the long, rectangular table sat Il-Nam, the creator of the games, his presence commanding even in old age. To his right, In-Ho—the Frontman—looked as impeccably composed as ever, dressed in a crisp black suit, his cold gaze unwavering as it flicked toward her. To Il-Nam’s left was the Officer, his expression unreadable.

The guards were seated as well, each representing a different division of their operation. A Circle, symbolizing the workers. A Triangle, signifying the soldiers. A Square, representing the managers. Their faces, though unmasked, remained impassive, their postures rigid.

And then there was Gong Yoo.

He lounged near the Officer, legs crossed, a glass of whiskey already in his hand despite the early hour. His dark eyes found hers the moment she stepped inside, and a slow, knowing smirk curled onto his lips.

“You’re late,” In-Ho remarked, his tone devoid of warmth.

She barely spared him a glance as she walked to her seat. “Apologies, Frontman. Water pressure issues.” The words dripped with sarcasm.

Gong Yoo chuckled under his breath, the sound rich with amusement. He leaned in slightly, voice low enough for only her to hear. “Maybe you should have showered in my room, then, darling.”

Her jaw clenched, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she settled into the chair beside him, exuding nonchalance as she crossed her legs.

“Let’s begin,” Il-Nam’s voice cut through the room, calm but commanding.

The air shifted instantly. The weight of his authority settled over them, and even Gong Yoo—smug as he was—stilled, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his whiskey glass as the meeting commenced. One of the other guards started giving out files concerning the matter at hand. “As you’ve likely heard by now, last night’s attack at the gala was orchestrated by a relative of one of our past contestants.” Il-Nam’s voice was calm, yet there was an unmistakable edge to it—a demand for answers masked by a veneer of patience. His gaze shifted to the Officer, sharp and unwavering. “What I need to understand first Officer, is how they managed to get into the ballroom in the first place.”

Silence stretched for a beat too long.

The Officer sat rigid, his hands folded neatly on the table as he met Il-Nam’s stare without flinching. “The main intruder was disguised as catering staff and let in his accomplices were dressed as guests,” he answered, his voice measured. “They entered using forged credentials, ones that—at first glance—passed our standard security checks. It was only after the attack began that we realized the ID had been altered. The forgery was sophisticated, which suggests external assistance.”

Il-Nam’s fingers drummed lightly against the polished wood of the table. “I see,” he said, though his tone made it clear that this explanation was far from sufficient.

The Officer continued, sensing the scrutiny. “The guards neutralized the threat within minutes, but unfortunately, not before they managed to get a weapon inside. That failure is on my team, and for that, I take full responsibility.” He exhaled slowly. “I have already ordered a full security review. Background checks on all third-party vendors are being re-evaluated, and any lapses in protocol will be corrected immediately.”

“Your security got it under control?” In-Ho’s voice was like a blade slicing through the tense silence. His sharp gaze bore into the Officer, demanding accountability. “If it weren’t for the Salesman and the Dancer over there, we’d be mourning at least five dead VIPs right now.” His tone was razor-edged, each syllable a quiet condemnation as his eyes moved from her to Gong Yoo before finally settling back on the Officer.

Gong Yoo let out a low chuckle, leisurely swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Oh, boss, you’re making me blush.” His smirk was infuriatingly smug as if the entire fiasco had been nothing more than a particularly entertaining performance.

She leaned back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other as she added with a smirk, “Flattery will get you everywhere, Frontman.”

In-Ho’s expression remained as cold and unyielding as ever. “Children. Enough.” His voice was sharp, silencing any further banter.

The Officer, however, remained composed despite the scrutiny. “With all due respect, Frontman, our response time was under three minutes. The VIPs were secured before any casualties. The intruders were neutralized before they could do any real damage.”

In-Ho scoffed. “Before they could do real damage?” His voice was laced with incredulity. “One of them walked right through the front doors disguised as catering staff. They had time to slip two more inside in ballgowns, carrying concealed firearms. And somehow, not one of your men caught on?”

The Officer’s jaw tightened slightly. “His accomplices arrived later, posing as guests. The gowns made the firearms difficult to detect until it was too late.”

Il-Nam, who had remained quiet up until now, let out a soft, amused chuckle, fingers tapping lazily against the polished wood of the table. “So,” he mused, “we not only had one security breach, but three. Right under our noses.” His tone was calm, almost pleasant, but everyone at the table knew better than to mistake that for mercy.

The Officer exhaled slowly, keeping his composure. “The guards acted as soon as the first shot was fired. The ballroom was locked down, and the intruders were eliminated before they could reach their intended targets. Our casualties were minimal—two guards wounded, but no one important was harmed.”

“No one important,” In-Ho echoed, his voice dripping with disdain. “How reassuring.”

Il-Nam’s fingers stilled, the faint smile on his lips never quite reaching his eyes. “Tell me, Officer… if the Dancer and the Salesman hadn’t intervened as quickly as they did, how many would have died?”

A pause.

The Officer hesitated only for a fraction of a second, but in this room, that was enough.

“…At least five,” he admitted finally. “Possibly more.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Il-Nam leaned back in his chair, exhaling softly. “Then I suggest we start taking security matters more seriously,” he said, his voice deceptively light. “You will personally oversee the next security drill. I want weak points identified and eliminated. If another incident occurs, I will not be as forgiving.”

The Officer gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

Il-Nam’s gaze then flickered toward her and Gong Yoo, a faint glimmer of amusement in his expression. “And as for our unexpected heroes of the night…” He tapped his fingers against the table. “It seems we owe you our gratitude.”

Gong Yoo grinned, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, if gratitude comes with a raise, I might actually feel appreciated around here.”

She let out a soft chuckle, tilting her head slightly. “Oh, please. We both know I didn’t do it out of kindness. Just would’ve been a shame to let all that fine champagne go to waste.”

Il-Nam chuckled, though there was something calculating beneath the sound. “Indeed,” he murmured. “Let’s move on.”

The conversation shifted, but the tension in the air remained thick, unspoken. The attack had rattled the foundation of their carefully controlled world, and everyone in the room knew the truth—this wasn’t over.

They had moved on to the second point of discussion—planning next year’s games—but the Dancer wasn’t listening. Her attention was fixed on the file in front of her, fingers skimming over the pages as she absentmindedly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

The room fell into an abrupt silence.

Just below her jawline, close to the delicate pulse point of her throat, lay a love bite—dark, unmistakable, and fresh.

Gong Yoo was the first to react. His grin stretched wider, a slow, lazy smirk curling at the edges as he bit back a laugh, the amusement dancing in his dark eyes. He didn’t bother hiding his satisfaction.

Across the table, In-Ho’s grip on his pen tightened slightly. His expression remained unreadable, but the sharpness in his gaze betrayed him. It flickered to the mark on her skin, then to Gong Yoo, before settling back on her. The air around him felt colder, his posture unnaturally stiff. His breathing slowed, controlled, but there was a heaviness to it—a subtle indication of something carefully reined in. Beneath the table, his fingers flexed once before stilling entirely.

Il-Nam, ever the observer, let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers steepled as he watched the silent exchange with mild amusement.

She frowned at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, glancing up from her file. “What?” she asked, scanning the room. “Do I have something on my face?”

Gong Yoo exhaled a low chuckle, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh, doll,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Not on your face.”

Her brows furrowed, confusion flashing across her features—until she caught the way In-Ho’s jaw had tightened ever so slightly. Then, it clicked.

Ah.

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at her lips.

She lifted a delicate hand, tracing her fingers lazily over the mark. Then, just as deliberately, she shifted her gaze to In-Ho. She held it for half a second longer than necessary before tilting her chin slightly, challenging, daring. It was a small act, subtle enough to be brushed off—but the way his fingers curled ever so slightly against the table told her he had noticed.

She leaned back in her chair, feigning nonchalance as she turned the page in her file. “Oh, that?” she mused, tracing her fingers lightly over the bruise. “Must’ve been a mosquito.”

Il-Nam let out a soft chuckle, but In-Ho’s stare remained unreadable.

Gong Yoo, meanwhile, merely grinned. “Damn. That must’ve been one persistent mosquito. What do you say, bossman?” the man drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned back in his chair, lazily swirling the whiskey in his glass before flashing a wolfish grin. “I think she looks rather exquisite.”

Getting a rise out of In-Ho was his favourite pastime. Their mutual disdain was an unspoken but ever-present force in the room, simmering beneath the surface like a slow-burning fuse. And Gong Yoo, ever the provocateur, delighted in striking the match.

In-Ho turned his head slowly, his expression unreadable as he regarded the Salesman. He refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he merely raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

“This is the third time this month I’ve caught you with your hand in the cookie jar,” he said coolly, his voice devoid of emotion but laced with quiet authority. His gaze flickered back to the mark on her skin, then to Gong Yoo, sharp and assessing. “Which part of no fraternizing with colleagues is hard for you to understand?”

Gong Yoo chuckled, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Oh, come on,” he mused, resting his chin in his palm. “You say fraternizing like it’s some grave offence. I prefer to think of it as… team building.”

She smirked at that, lazily tapping her fingers against the table. “Didn’t realize I was company property,” she mused, tilting her head slightly, her voice teasing but laced with challenge.

In-Ho’s eyes flickered toward her, his gaze unreadable, but something in his jaw tightened.

Il-Nam chuckled softly, finally breaking the thick silence. “Ah, young people,” he mused, his voice amused but distant, as if watching an entertaining drama unfold before him. “So much energy, so many… distractions.”

Gong Yoo simply grinned wider, sensing the crack in In-Ho’s composure. He had won this round—whether In-Ho admitted it or not.

“Please,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully as she tapped her pen against the table. “Young? This one is 42,” she gestured lazily toward Gong Yoo, who gave her a mock-offended look, “and the other one is 47,” she finished, pointing toward In-Ho, whose expression remained unreadable.

She leaned back in her chair with an exaggerated sigh. “You’d think by now they’d have learned how to handle their big boy emotions.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, her smirk teasing as she let the words hang in the air.

Gong Yoo let out a short laugh, placing a hand over his heart in mock devastation. “You wound me,” he said, shaking his head. “Truly. And here I thought we had something special.”

She shot him an amused glance. “I’d say I was sorry, but we both know I’m not.”

Across the table, In-Ho remained silent, his gaze steady, unreadable. But the barely perceptible twitch of his jaw didn’t escape her notice.

Il-Nam chuckled again, clearly entertained. “Ah, the beauty of age,” he mused. “It teaches patience… but not immunity to certain distractions.” His gaze flickered briefly between In-Ho and Gong Yoo before settling back on his notes, the amusement never quite leaving his face.

Gong Yoo, ever the instigator, leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Well, some of us age like fine wine,” he said smoothly. “Others, well… they just let it turn them bitter.”

The air in the room thickened for a brief second, the tension a quiet undercurrent beneath the humour.

She smirked, twirling her pen between her fingers. “Or maybe it’s just that some people never learned how to share their toys.”

For the first time, In-Ho finally moved—just the slightest shift of his posture, but enough to betray that her words had landed.

167 notes · View notes

singstaircase · 17 days ago

Text

When the Phone Rings– CS55

Summary: The plan was simple– pretend to be your own kidnapper, pressure the cold and distant husband into either divorcing you himself or paying 'you' enough to do it yourself. What wasn't accounted for? His unexpected care and sheer stubbornness.

contains: angst, fluff, implied unhappy marriage, Carlos Sr is the villain because I needed one, reader can speak but is selectively mute, marriage of convenience or is it? Based on the few episodes I saw of the show of the same name.

Carlos and his family think the reader can't speak. The only people who are aware that she can speak is her mother and her friend, Alexandra. Alexandra is the only person the reader speaks to. Felipe and Sofia are the reader's stepfather and stepsister. Alexandra is Alexandra Saint-Mleux.

This is the seventh call. Maybe the eighth, (Name) is starting to lose the count at this point.

She places her steaming cup on the bedside table and at seven pm sharp, dials the number.

Carlos picks up after the first ring.

"Again?" He says. His voice has a hint of irritation but also something else– determination.

"You're persistent, huh?" (Name) rasps, trying to disguise her voice, though it's not needed. The burner phone came with a voice changer after all. Still, she does this every call, just to be safe.

"And you are repetitive," he shots back. The line goes quiet for some time after that, so (Name) picks up her cup and takes a small sip.

Sensing Carlos won't break the silence, (Name) decides to speak again. "You are awfully calm for a man being threatened, Mr. Sainz."

Carlos chuckles, the sound both amused and tired. "You say the same thing everytime. It's getting repetitive."

Het jaw tightens. "Then here's something new. If you don't divorce her, something will happen."

A pause. Then, "To me or her?"

(Name) blinks. She wasn't expecting this. "Why do you care?"

"You act like I don't care," his voice is steady, firm, "but I care about her, more than you realize." and full of confidence.

Her grip on the phone tightens. "Then pay me. I'll leave you both alone."

"You won't succeed in separating us," Carlos speaks so confidently that it makes her chest ache. "No matter what you try."

(Name)'s breath hitches.

Before she can respond, the line goes end.

She stares at her phone, a sinking feeling growing in her chest.

This isn't working.

That evening, Carlos knocks on her door.

"Let's make dinner together," he signs. His hands moved with an ease that tells her he thought this through and practiced before asking.

(Name) hesitates.

Carlos never did this before. Never tried to involve her in his life.

But she finds herself nodding anyway.

***

What starts as a simple meal, turns into flour fights, laughter and accidental touches.

Carlos isn't the best at cooking—he sliced the onions too thick and nearly set the oil on fire—but he laughed and it was infectious.

He guides her hands as they knead dough, his warmth lingering even after he stepped back.

At one point, without thinking, Carlos reaches up to brush flour from (Name)'s cheek. His thumb lingers longer than it should have.

(Name) should have pulled away. But she doesn't.

When they finally sit down to eat, she finds it hard to look at him.

This is a dangerous game she's playing.

(Name) wasn't expecting to get the job.

She applied for the job of the interpreter on impulse, wanting something of her own.

No one on the Williams team knows about her relation with Carlos. It just makes things easier, and the perfect choice.

She was also not expecting Carlos to care.

So when he finds her, that day, after training and signs, "Congratulations."

She freezes.

She didn't realize Carlos knew or cared.

That night, there's a knock on (Name)'s door.

On the other side, Carlos is holding a small velvet box. Inside is a delicate necklace with a tiny charm.

"For your new job," he signs, almost shyly.

(Name)'s breath is caught. Before she can react, Carlos steps closer and clasp it around her neck. His fingers barely touch her skin but she feels the warmth lingering.

Their eyes meet in the mirror.

(Name) swallows hard.

She is supposed to make him want to let go.

Then why does it feel like he is holding on tighter ?

Live.

In front of cameras. In front of thousands of people watching.

(Name) stands beside Carlos, hands gripping her notepad tightly. The interviewer is chatting with another driver first, giving her a few extra minutes to calm herself.

Her heart, however, is anything but calm.

She has done this before. But not live. Not where any mistake will be instantly broadcasted to the world.

She feels Carlos shift beside her. Then, quietly, he leans in.

"You’re going to do amazing," he murmurs. His voice is warm, reassuring.

Slightly startled, (Name) looks up at him.

Before she can react, Carlos reaches for her hand under the table, giving it a small, firm squeeze. He lets go only when the interviewer turns to them.

***

The interview starts and (Name) forces herself to focus. She translates Carlos' answers effortlessly, her hands moving with confidence.

The longer it goes on, the more natural it feels. She barely notices Carlos watching her—how, every time she moves, he follows her gestures like she is the only person in the room.

It isn't until later, scrolling through her phone, that she sees what the world saw.

Twitter and Instagram were filled with clips of the interview. But instead of just Carlos’ words, people were fixated on something else.

“The way Carlos looks at his interpreter is so!!!!.”

“Someone tell me why he’s staring at her like she is the stars in the sky???”

“Imagine being so in love you forget you’re on live TV.”

(Name) frowns, scrolling through video clips of Carlos speaking. His gaze was always on her. Always. She didn't even noticed.

Her stomach twists.

Then, she feels a presence besides her.

"Interesting choice of content," Alexandra teases, peering over her shoulder.

(Name)'s hands tighten around her phone.

"I was just—"

"Analyzing?" Alexandra finishes, smirking.

(Name) scrolls back to a paused clip, Carlos’ expression frozen mid-sentence—his eyes warm, his lips curved in a way that looked almost… soft.

It doesn't mean anything. It can't.

Alexandra nudges her. "So… second thoughts?"

(Name) hesitates.

"I still want the divorce," she says. But the words felt unsteady.

Alexandra hums. "You think so, at least."

(Name) doesn't respond.

(Name) tries to keep her distance.

She reminds herself of the plan. Reminds herself that Carlos isn't her's, not really.

And then, it rains.

Carlos was with the team all afternoon, testing at the track. And (Name) stayed late to wrap up some notes.

By the time she steps out, the sky is pitch black.

Carlos is leaning against his car. Judging by his bored expression and constant darting at his watch, (Name) can tell he is waiting for someone.

Is he waiting for me? The thought makes her heart flutter.

(Name) shakes her head. He doesn't care, at least that's what's she's been telling herself for the past few days.

But she can answer to herself, Carlos' eyes find hers.

He opens the door to the car before even speaking. "Let's go home."

(Name) shakes her head, phone ready in hand to answer.

It’s fine. I’ll call a taxi.

Carlos frowns. "In this weather?" He gestures to the rain, where the track lights makes the downpour shimmer like falling glass. "Just get in."

She hesitates, but another gust of wind sends rain splattering against her.

So she climbs in.

***

They don't speak—not out loud, at least. Instead, (Name) pulls out her phone.

You don’t have to do this.

Carlos glances at her. "Do what?"

Pretend that you care.

His grip on the wheel tightens. "I am not pretending," he says.

They stop at a red light.

Carlos reaches toward the dashboard, turning up the heater. "Are you cold?"

(Name) swallows but shakes her head.

When they arrive, he pulls up in front of the house but doesn't unlock the doors immediately.

"You think I don’t care," he says quietly. "But I do."

(Name) doesn't move. Doesn't look at him.

She opens the door and steps out without a word.

Inside, she presses her back against the door, her heart hammering.

She has to end this.

But somehow, Carlos keeps making it harder.

The dinner was uncomfortable from the start.

Carlos warned (Name) about his father but nothing could have prepared her for this.

***

(Name) spent most of the evening in silence, answering questions with polite smiles and written responses on her phone when necessary.

And then, Carlos Sr turns his attention to (Name).

"This whole marriage," he starts, and points at Carlos and (Name), swirling his wine glass lazily, "was a disaster from the start. We were supposed to get Sofia. But Felipe pawned off his broken daughter and we were fools to take her."

The table falls silent.

(Name) doesn't do anything, but her fingers tightens its grip on her fork.

Shaking his head, Carlos Sr leans back in chair. "She can't even speak. Pathetic."

Carlos' jaw clenches.

"She is a disgrace," his father continues. "We give them everything and they humiliate us with–"

"Enough!"

Carlos' voice is sharp, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.

Carlos Sr scoffs. "Excuse me?"

Everyone on the table looks around, trying to figure out a way to diffuse the situation.

And then, Carlos puts down his glass. "I said enough."

His father narrows his eyes. "I don't appreciate that tone, boy."

"And I don't appreciate you insulting my wife."

A murmur ripples through the table.

Carlos Sr scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. "Don't act like you actually care about this marriage, Carlos. You wouldn't even acknowledge her in public–"

Carlos pushes back his seat and gets up.(Name) looks up at him in alarm.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Carlos says coldly. “You think (Name) is pathetic? That she’s some kind of burden? She’s the only person in this family with any real dignity.”

Carlos Sr's expression darkens. “Watch your mouth.”

“No, you watch yours.” Carlos leans forward, resting his hands on the table. “You want to be president, right? You need Felipe’s influence to make that happen. So maybe you should start talking to my wife with the respect she deserves.”

Carlos Sr's face turns red with rage.

Carlos turns to (Name) and holds out his hand. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

(Name) hesitates.

His father stands up. "Carlos." His voice is dangerously low. “You will not walk away from this table.”

Carlos doesn't even look at him.

“I won’t stay in a place where my wife is being disrespected.”

(Name) places her hand in his and together, they walk out.

(Name) needs air.

Carlos steps away to handle a call, and (Name) finds her way to the rooftop of the estate.

Her plan is falling apart.

Carlos wasn't supposed to care. Yet, he does. He wasn't supposed to defend her.

And yet he did.

She pulls out the burner phone and almost like a second nature, seeks out Carlos' number. With trembling fingers, she dials his number.

Carlos answers almost immediately. "What do you want again?"

(Name) swallows. She can't stop, not now.

She checks her surrounding and then, lowers her voice. "Why are you still with her?"

Carlos exhales sharply. "Not this again."

“She’s pathetic.” Every inch of her body screaming at her to stop, hating herself for every word. But (Name) presses on. “She can’t even speak. She is a damaged good. A replacement for her perfect sister. Why are you still holding onto her?”

There's a pause.

Then, Carlos starts speaking.

"Because she is the only good thing in my life."

(Name) steps closer to the edge of the roof and closes her eyes. The night breeze cools her skin but isn't able to reach in and calm her pounding heart.

Carlos continues in a steady pace. “Because in a world where everyone takes and demands, she asks for nothing. And still, she gives everything.”

(Name) opens her eyes and grips the phone tighter. A familiar feeling.

“She makes me feel alive,” Carlos admits, his voice starts to get quieter. “Like I can breathe normally for the first time in years.”

(Name)'s chest aches.

“She is not a replacement. She’s not some extra chapter in someone else’s story.” Carlos say. His voice is softer now but full of confidence as well. “She is a brand-new language. One I want to learn.”

(Name) steps back from the edge as tears begin to blur her vision.

"Don't ever talk about my wife like that again," Carlos finishes.

"Then why?" she whispers, the words slipping out before she can stop them, " Why did you treat her like she didn't matter?" She needs to to know. I need to know.

Silence.

"Why did you act like she was invisible?" (Name)'s voice is uneven by now. "Why were you so ashamed to tell everyone that she was your wife?"

There is no answer.

Then–

A chime.

The elevator door behind her slides open.

(Name) turns around, her heart stopping.

Carlos steps out, staring at her, his phone still pressed to his ear.

And in her hand, the burner phone.

His eyes flickers between her tear-streaked face and the device.

Realization dawns.

(Name)'s world caves in.

This literally came to me in my dreams a few weeks ago and I knew I had to write it.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 angst

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obvithe-bestsoph · 17 days ago

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be my valentine? - barca boys

summary: how lamine yamal, pablo gavi, pedro gonzalez, pau cubarsi, and hector fort would ask you to be their valentine. masterlist warnings: suggestive.

You’ve been in a ‘talking stage’ with Lamine for the past two or three months. You had been friends as kids when he still lived in Rocafonda, you grew apart a little with age, but you’ve gotten closer again after starting high school.

You guys are in the same literature and mathematics classes, so you often give him notes or go to his place to help him with homework. He’s very sweet, he looks at you like you’re a beautiful girl, not some piece of meat, he’s always giving you little gifts and things too. You’ve gotten to know his mother better and met his little brother, Keyne. His papá seems to like you too on the few occasions you’ve met him.

Tonight, you’ve come over to help him with some of the literature homework. You’re laying on his bed, paper and books in front of you as you explain the concept it as best you can, when his mamá, Sheila, puts her head in the door, speaking to you with a warm, motherly smile.

“Hola, Y/N. ¿Te gustaría quedarte a cenar (would you like to stay for dinner)?” Lamine watches you intently, waiting for your reply, almost as if this was planned… although, you didn’t notice that. “Sí, Le enviaré un mensaje de texto a mi mamá y le preguntaré. Gracias señorita Ebana (yes, i’ll text my mamá and ask. thank you miss ebana).” you smile back. Sheila nods and leaves the room again, shutting the door.

You and Lamine go back to doing the homework, although he seems more nervous and less focused than before. “Are you alright?” you frown, noticing that he has been staring at your face and not the book for the past two minutes. He blinks and looks away, a little flushed. “Sí, sí, sorry. I just… zoned out.” You give him a sceptical look but nod. “Vale. Now, back to page 167 (okay)…”

The two of you continue reading and writing until Sheila comes back to say dinner’s ready. When you get to the table, Lamine makes sure to pull your chair out for you and hand you your plate first. Sheila giggles behind her hand as she watches her son, clearly in on something you’re not, so you’re confused for a moment, but then move on. The table is fairly quiet, aside from Keyne chattering away in his high chair. With no siblings at home, you find it very entertaining and help him with a few spoonfuls of the spiced and seasoned rice, watching and laughing at him as he goes. Sheila watches on with a smile, grinning at the secret plan Lamine had made with her, but also at you and Keyne interacting.

After dinner, you help to clear the table and do a few of the dishes with Sheila, Lamine watching on with love in his eyes from the living room floor as he half plays with Keyne, and half admires you and how well you and his mamá are getting on. Once the dishes are done, you go and sit next to Lamine on the floor again.

“You wanna keep going on the homework?” he asks. You nod and head back to his bedroom. He tells you that he needs the bathroom and that he’ll be in in a minute. When he reenters, you’re sitting on his bed, and he has his hands behind his back, holding something. You frown in confusion and laugh, watching him as he smiles back nervously at you. “What?” you laugh. Lamine takes a deep breath and moves his hands from behind his back. In one hand is a bouquet of long-stem red roses, and in the other, is a small, navy-blue, velvet box. Your eyebrows immediately rise in surprise and your eyes go from the roses to his anxious, but hopeful face. When you don’t immediately take them, he pushes them towards you a little more, you snap out of the haze that is those beautiful brown eyes of his and take the flowers and jewellery box.

You smile at him before opening the box, inside is one of the most beautiful necklaces you’ve ever seen. It’s (gold/silver) the colour he knows you prefer, a small iridescent opal pendant hanging from it. Inside the box, is also a small note.

“Be my valentine?” in Lamine’s signature neat, although slightly crooked, handwriting.

You laugh shakily and cover your mouth, staring at it for a second before putting the bouquet and necklace down on the bed and standing up to hug him. You rest your head on your shoulder, and whisper out your answer. “Yes, yes of course I’ll be your valentine.” he grins and tilts your head up. “¿Puedo besarte (can i kiss you)?” you nod, and a few moments later, those gorgeous plush lips of his are on yours. You pull away a few seconds later and laugh, still close, your forehead resting against his, looking into his eyes once more.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?” “Saying yes.” the taller boy smiles. You laugh, shaking your head slightly, “Of course I said yes. I’d be an idiot not to.”

Lamine pulls away and reaches for the box on the bed once more, he takes it out and gestures for you to turn it around. You feel the cool, delicate (gold/silver) on your neck and his fingers carefully doing up the clasp behind you.

That night, you have your first sleepover together, and cuddle in bed most of the night, deciding homework can wait until tomorrow.

You’ve never had a Valentine before. Yep, 20 years old and not a single Valentine. So it’s kind of crazy that you’re first ever one will be the Pablo Gavi.

You didn’t think he’d ask you, considering you were dating and it was probably just assumed, but alas, you arrived home from the grocery shopping to find a whole display of flowers, balloons and various other things on the dining room table, a proud Pablo standing next to it.

You laugh in shock, almost dropping the grocery bag in surprise. Instead, you deposit it onto the kitchen counter and go over to him. Grinning his usual wide smile, he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you passionately for a good while, but when he gets distracted and his kisses start trailing down your neck, you laugh and pull away, bringing his head back up again. “Save that for later, amor.” He chuckles and presents the table to you properly. You take a closer look and there are multiple bottles of your favourite perfume and skincare products. There’s no makeup as always as Pablo refuses to buy it for you because he thinks you look even prettier without it. Dotted around are multiple bags, Dior, Mercadona, Victoria’s Secret (you can hardly imagine what he’s picked out from there), shoes, and a new dress, with flowers all around the place, and a big sign in the middle of the table.

“Will you be my Valentine?”

You laugh, just taking it all in. “What kind of question is that? Who else’s would I be?”

He shrugs and kisses you again. “Is that a yes then?” you roll your eyes and laugh for what feels like the millionth time.

“Of course, mi amor. Siempre, sí (forever, yes).”

Once more, that cheeky grin appears on his face. You squeak when you’re lifted up the waist, legs automatically wrapping around his waist. As he carries you past the table, he picks up the Victoria’s Secret bag, making a beeline for the bedroom.

You met when you were seven, while playing football out in the schoolyard on one of your first days at your new school in Tegueste, after moving from Lanzarote, another Canarian Island, the closest one to Spain. You were quite a good wee player, but were met with the ground after being tripped by another boy, who looked about your age. Your bottom lip had wobbled as you looked at your now-skinned hands. The boy, looking as guilty as if he’d killed you, crouched down in front of you.

“Lo siento mucho. Lo prometo, no fue mi intención. ¿Estás bien (i’m so sorry. i promise i didn’t mean to. are you okay)?” he had asked tentatively. You sniffed and nodded. Your eyes had gone back to his face, and he had spoken up again.

“Puedo besarlo mejor por ti. Eso es lo que hace mi mamá cada vez que me lastimo (i can kiss it better for you. that's what my mami does whenever i get hurt).” Almost immediately, you nodded once more and held your hands out to him. The boy had pressed a small kiss to each of your palms.

“¿Está todo mejor ahora (is it all better now)?” “En realidad no, pero duele menos. Quizás seas mágico (not really, but it hurts less. maybe you’re magic).”

“Tal vez (maybe),” he smiled and helped you up, “Soy Pedri. Bueno, Pedro, pero todos me dicen Pedri porque soy pequeño y el otro Pedro es grande (i'm pedri. well, pedro, but everyone calls me pedri because i'm little, and other pedro is big).” he introduced, gesturing to a much larger boy across the yard. “¿Cómo te llamas (what’s your name)?” Pedri asked as he helped you up from the floor. “Y/N. ¿Quieres que seamos amigos? Soy nuevo y no tengo ninguno (do you want to be friends? i'm new, and i don't have any).” He nodded and you guys wandered off, back towards the classroom, as the bell had gone.

And that’s how you met your boyfriend, best friend, and love of your life.

Having been there for each other through the highs and lows, you two are closer than anyone else either of you know. No longer seven and clueless, the pair of you are curled up in bed, the rain pouring outside, you reading, Pedri on his phone beside you. There was a peaceful silence, besides the sound of rain on the windows and the occasional paper sound coming from your book.

You turn the page and something falls out, sliding into your lap. Confused, you pick it up, what is it but a pressed white rose and a note? “Be my valentine?” you laugh and look up at Pedri, who’s watching you with a raised eyebrow, waiting. Grinning, you lean across the bed a little, connecting, before pulling away and murmuring against his lips, “Most certainly, I’ll be your Valentine. Considering you’ve been asking since we were 15, do you really even have to ask anymore.” “Yes, I do, because I know it makes you feel special, it makes me feel important, and it actually improves the general romantic-ness of our relationship,” he says firmly, but with a soft, signature Pedri smile.

“Woah, alright. And thank you, it’s very sweet.” you press another kiss to his lips, expecting just a peck, but very quickly, his tongue is in your mouth and you’ve been pulled to straddle his lap. “I have a few more Valentine’s gifts for you, don’t worry.” Pedri says with a smirk and hungry glint in his eye. You know you’re in for a long night, but aren’t at all mad about it.

You had been sitting in second-period Science, right before lunch, when one of the receptionists from the front office came into the classroom, asking you to pack up your things and come with her. Confused, you did so, trailing behind the older woman, back to the main office. Standing there in the office is a faux-distraught-looking Pau, claiming to be your cousin, needing to pick you up early as there’s been a family emergency. Behind her back, you cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

A few minutes later, and you’re all signed out and walking out to the carpark with Pau. “You know, you can’t just pull me out of school whenever you want, right? Our ‘grandma’ can only die so many times.” you laugh. He just shrugs and intertwines his hand with yours. “Oh well. I’m taking you on a date.” “A date? At 11.45 in the morning?” “Sí. We’re having a picnic on the beach,” he announces proudly. “On the beach, huh? So all the sand can get in our food? Delightful.” you laugh, he whacks your arm.

“Calla, it’s meant to be romantic (shut up).” Pau teases back, unlocking his car and opening the passenger door for you. “Princesa.” You roll your eyes at the nickname. Most boyfriends would use it in a cute way, their “princesa,” but no, not your boyfriend. Pau just uses it to tease you. He makes a dramatic gesture of it, helping you in by taking your hand and everything. You keep forgetting he has free reign to drive you guys anywhere now. So maybe random Friday lunch dates after a long week will become a more regular occurrence.

The drive to the beach is fairly short, and most of the way there, you just give Pau the rundown on this week’s school gossip. It’s sunny and warm today, good weather for a picnic. Turns out, Pau’s version of a picnic is a salad and water for him, a sandwich and a lemonade for you, eaten on the tailgate of the car, however, to look out onto the beach while you eat, the car has to be reverse parked.

Pau is awful at reverse/parallel parking, and only just barely passed it on his test, so, while it is a little illegal, you always do it for him. It’s funny, you’re only studying, don’t even have your proper license, and can drive a lot better than him in many ways. Once the car is successfully parked, you both get out, opening the boot and sitting in it, cuddling close to each other.

You both sit in silence for a while, eating and drinking, until Pau randomly speaks up once more.

“You know how you left your phone at mine the other day?”

You suddenly feel a little nervous. “Yeah..?”

Pau grins. “Wanna explain why you have over 500 saved edits of me on TikTok?”

You’re quite tempted to die of embarrassment. Literally, mortified. He takes immense pleasure in your pink face.

“We can do it like that… if you want to.”

You almost don’t want to ask. “Do what like what?” “Do you want it from the back, with your face in the pillow so you can yell as loud as you want to?” He says with a suggestive smirk, quoting the audio of the most recent edit you’ve saved, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“Shut up,” you mutter, slumping down further. But he doesn’t shut up. Doesn’t even think about it, and 20 minutes later, you find yourself topless, laying in the boot of the car, Pau having put the backseats down for a rather messy makeout, like the good, horny teenagers you are. He lays next to you, both of you breathless. For a good few moments, the only sound that is heard in the car is both of you panting. “You know, I actually brought us out here for the ‘romantic’ date to ask you to be my Valentine,” he says. “Really? Well, the answer is yes.” you chuckle breathily, sitting up.

“How am I meant to go back to school, looking live I’ve been mauled by a dog after going to ‘say goodbye to our grandma with my cousin.’?” casually, you laugh, but Pau’s face is far from amused. “No way in hell are you going back to school. We’re going straight to my bed, mi amor.” You giggle and he finally laughs too. “Alright. Maybe we should try your suggestion from earlier.”

His grin only grows.

Right now, you’re laying on your boyfriend of three years after yet another long day of uni. The silence had been comfortable as he gently scratched his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead over and over again, in fact, you were almost asleep. But your half-dozed-off state is interrupted when Héctor speaks up.

“Can you look at my foot?” “What?” “My foot.” you just stare at him for a moment.

“Your foot?” you repeat, slower. He nods as if that was a perfectly normal request.

“Why exactly?” “Because it hurts and you’re training to become a physio.” After staring at him for a moment longer, you sigh and relent, moving to crouch at the end the chaise of the couch, pulling off his sock. “Do you not have professional physios for this?” “Yeah, but I like you better.” Inspecting his foot, you frown. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” “Yes, because it’s the other one.” You pull off his right sock instead, and your eyes widen.

“Héctor Fort García, what did you do?!” you gasp, glancing up to his face, which had the biggest grin on it. On the inside of his right foot, are your initials and birthday, as well as your anniversary date, all written in your handwriting.

“Got another tattoo.” “I can see that. Why that, and why there?”

“Because that’s the foot I score goals with. So now, every goal I score, every pass, every tackle, every run, is dedicated to you, like you’re there helping me kick, in thought, of course.”

You watch him in surprise for a moment before laughing in disbelief and coming back up to kiss him and give him a hug.

“Estás loco (you’re crazy).”

“Sólo para ti, mi amor (only for you, my love).” he laughs back, pressing yet another kiss to your nose.

You lay together in silence for a moment, before Héctor speaks up again.

“If you couldn’t tell, this was a very long way of asking you to be my Valentine?”

“Yeah, alright.” you laugh. You two are always laughing when you’re together, because there’s always something to laugh about. Whether it be Héctor messing up an English word, or you spilling something all over yourself, you both find humour in everything.

“Just, ‘alright’?” he sniggers, shoving you a little.

“What would you prefer I say then, hm?”

“How about a ‘Yes, please, dear boyfriend that just got my name and birthday permanently tattooed on his body.’?” “Mmmm… I think I’ll stick with ‘Yeah, alright.’” you tease, which earns his fingers under your arms, tickling you until you slide off the couch and are crying tears of laughter.

a/n: i wanted to do one for marc, but it was last and i genuinely had no ideas 😭 so i'd be happy to add it later if anyone has some requests or suggestions?

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voxslays · 2 months ago

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HOLIDAY SHOPPING

Featuring >>> Alastor x Reader; In which, Reader struggles to find presents for the hotel residents and finds both comfort and a helping hand in Alastor.

It was only a few days before Christmas. You had been so busy all month doing paperwork and chores for Charlie, that you had nearly forgotten about Christmas shopping—and it didn’t exactly help that you had no idea what to get some of the hotel residents. Yet, you carried on anyways as you put on your winter coat and scarf, grabbed your wallet and purse and headed out the doors of the hotel lobby.

As you stepped outside, the crisp winter air hit your face, making your breath visible. Snow was lightly falling, dusting the streets and rooftops of the hellish landscape. You zipped up your coat and pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, thinking about the long list of gifts you still needed to buy. You quickly headed towards cannibal town, hoping Rosie may have some ideas. You were in such a rush you didn’t even notice when you bumped into someone. “Sorry!” You mutter as you are knocked to the ground. You look up to see Alastor.

Standing tall over you, Alastor adjusts his bowtie as his ever present smile grows, "Careful there, darling.” His deep, staticky yet smooth voice carries a hint of amusement as he extends a hand to help you up. “Thanks.” You say has he gently hoists you to your feet. “Are you okay?” His smile never wavers as he studies your concerned expression, a glint of something mischievous shining in his eyes "Perfectly fine, though I must say… you seem rather distracted. Christmas shopping?" He gestures to the packages you're carrying.

“Yep.” You confirm. His grin widens as he leans in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, isn't this a delightful coincidence? I happen to have a knack for finding…unique gifts. Perhaps I could lend a hand, guide you to shops you might not find on your own." Alastor’s smile brightens. “You would?” Your smile grows wider. “Oh thank you, Alastor!” He chuckles, the staticky sound like velvet wrapped around a diamond, as he takes one of the packages from you and begins walking alongside you. "Consider it a holiday favor, cher. Now, tell me, what's on your list this year?"

You quickly tell him both what you have gotten so far—a bug capturing kit for Niffty, expensive booze for Husk, a duck mug for Lucifer, and a unicorn squishmallow for Charlie (much to Alastors confusion)—and who you hadn’t gotten anything for. Pentious would be pretty easy, his only hobby was inventing, so how hard could that be? Vaggie and Angel were much harder though, and Christmas was only three days away. You had no time, but atleast you had Alastor’s help. Alastor listens intently, giving a hum of approval every once in a a while. "A…squishmallow?” Alastor asks, mildly confused. Though his curiosity about Charlie is now piqued, he keeps that aside for another, later conversation.

The two of you stop right outside a large shop with the sign ‘Rosie’s Emporium’. You knew exactly who this shop belongs to. You and Rosie go way back. She was the first soul you met in hell, and you quickly became friends. Having lunch or the occasional brunch together once a month. So as you stepped inside, it was only natural that she rushed up to the two of you. “Oh Alastor, Y/N.” She pauses as her arms envelope you in a motherly hug. “Long time no see ya two!”

Alastor allows Rosie's hug, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles warmly. He's always had a soft spot for the cannibal, and her motherly affection is something he secretly cherishes and reminds him of his own mother. "Rosie, it's been far too long," He says as he breaks the hug. “Well how can I help ya today?” Rosie asks, her cheeky southern accent popping. “Oh, we’re just browsing.” You say softly. Alastor gestures for you to go off without him, and you do.

You stroll around the store, making sure to stay far away from any of the more acquired tastes, such as chocolate covered pinky fingers or toes. You stroll to one of the antique curio cabinets, which has plates of fine China and glass sculptures inside. Next to it, a glass cabinet with expensive jewelry. A sapphire broach, a pearl necklace, and in the very middle, a gold and silver watch with a crimson leather strap. A perfect gift for your overlord friend.

Meanwhile, Alastor is standing by the entrance with Rosie. “So ya came in as an escort?” Rosie jests playfully. Alastor chuckles, his eyes scanning the eclectic assortment of items in Rosie's Emporium. He spots a few things that catch his eye, including a beautifully crafted bronze pocket watch and a rare, antique ruby necklace. "Actually, Rosie, I could use your expertise."

“Of course. What do ya need?” She asks, adjusting her hat before giving him her full attention. He gestures to the necklace he spotted, "Do you have anything like that necklace over there? I'm looking for a gift, and I think it might be perfect." He pauses, "And could you wrap it nicely too?" Rosie smiles, her huge white demonic teeth on display. “Of course Alastor. Is it for anyone in particular?” She asks as she carefully takes the Ruby necklace out of its case, places it in its box and wraps it.

Alastor clears his throat, glancing away briefly before meeting Rosie's gaze with a playful smirk. "Well, let's just say it's for someone who's very dear to me." He winks.

Time had passed so quickly. The next thing you knew, it was Christmas morning. Thanks to Alastor, you had managed to find the perfect gift for everyone, including him. You carefully pull yourself out of the covers and walk to the bathroom, the cold wood flooring freezing your feet as you walk to the sink. You splash some water on your face, towel drying it as you get ready for the day.

Once dressed, you make your way downstairs to the present-filled lobby. Under the Christmas tree is an avalanche of presents with bright wrapping paper and bows, surrounded by the hotel guests who are slowly opening their presents. You sit among the guests, a steaming cup of hot chocolate in your hand, watching as everyone opens their gifts. You notice that there's one present left under the tree, wrapped in shiny gold paper with a red bow.

It has a tag with your name on it. You carefully unwrap it, revealing the very Ruby necklace you saw at Rosie’s. You’re about to turn around to look for Alastor when you hear a staticky voice behind you. "Merry Christmas." You turn to see Alastor standing behind you, a mischievous grin on his face. You hug him tightly. “Merry Christmas.”

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luvkyu · 2 months ago

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wake up ( johnny suh )

synopsis : johnny has to adjust to some changes with his favorite nct member.

content : 1.9k words, male reader, angst, idol!johnny x added member!reader, depression, anxiety

note : tbh i feel like this is shit but i rly needed to write some angst so here it is. song inspo is wake up by eden.

johnny stared at his phone, heart racing. his steps came to a stop as he arrived at the dance studio for practice. he felt like his whole body was plummeting into a black hole as he read the bold headline of the article on his phone.

: sm entertainment confirmed nct member YN to be in a relationship with red velvet member SEULGI.

was this real? why was he only learning about it now?

johnny looked up, seeing his group members through the glass door. they were all starting to stretch and prepare for a long practice, including you. you stood in the corner next to doyoung. a hat covered your eyes and a baggy hoodie hung over your torso. you looked exhausted.

a few members greeted johnny as he finally entered the studio. you instantly looked at him upon hearing his name from the others. he gave you an uneasy smile and quickly made his way to you.

"hi." his voice was quiet, it only made your nerves worse.

he knew of the news. he definitely knew.

"hi," you replied. you managed to smile a little, but johnny could still see the worn out look on your face.

"it's fake," you mumbled out. johnny's eyes went wide.

"what?"

"me and seulgi. it's just damage control the company's doing after all the bullshit that's happened lately."

"oh."

johnny processed for a moment. that actually made a lot of sense. you and seulgi were already friends, already posted on social media together all the time. of course the company was trying to take advantage of you.

it was quiet between you and johnny as you both wandered toward the center of the room to stretch with the others. he wanted so desperately to bring the subject back up. he felt like he needed some kind of better explanation or validation. but you looked like you could burst into tears any second, so he refrained.

"are you okay?" johnny asked. you looked over at him as he stretched his arms over his head.

"are we ever okay at this point?"

johnny nodded at your words - you had a point.

"did they say how long you have to pretend?" he asked instead.

you shook your head. "our managers only told us last night. it happened so fast. seulgi called me after. she was fuming."

johnny nodded, unsure of what to say now.

"johnny?"

johnny looked over at you, his brows raised at your sudden serious tone.

"hm?"

your mouth opened to speak, but he could tell you changed your mind and stopped. you forced a smile and shook your head.

"just.. thanks. for being here, for always supporting me."

johnny smiled, growing a bit flustered.

"of course. i know i don't say it a lot, but i love you."

before you could answer, music was beginning to play and everyone gathered closer to start practice.

johnny meant something to you. something more than a friend or groupmate. you trained together and leaned on each other, thankful that you even got to debut together. he'd always been your confidante and safe place, just like you'd always been his. but as the years went on and you both grew into yourselves, your feelings grew too. every time your eyes met, every time you'd exchange the smallest touch, you felt it in your gut. something was brewing, and you were terrified.

about a week had passed since your dating news was announced. you had to admit that you weren't playing your 'boyfriend' role very well. you hadn't talked to seulgi much since the announcement, which felt odd considering how close of a friendship you had with her. you figured she was rightfully still pissed at the situation, and you were too mentally tired to want to bring it up or try to act normal around her. in fact, you could barely act normal around anyone, and it was definitely starting to show.

you started to be more quiet during fan meets and interviews, both your members and fans pointing it out. you began to cover yourself up more with hats and oversized clothes, anything you could do to make the overwhelming anxiety even a tiny bit better. it was at a point where managers and stylists were managing your outfits more than usual. you'd show up in sweats and a hoodie and then be on screen in a tight shirt and ripped jeans.

you were currently out with 127 for some late night drinks. no managers, no cameras, just your boys. johnny's eyes were on you like lasers. he was concerned about you. it was like the real you wasn't the real you anymore.

"i'm gonna go get some air," you told them as you got up.

"you okay?" yuta asked.

you nodded. "just wanna be outside for a minute."

the others watched you leave the table and quietly slip outside of the restaurant. they all knew you were deteriorating fast, they just didn't know how to help or what to do.

johnny got up without saying anything. he followed you and sat beside you at one of the smaller outdoor tables. he didn't say a word, he just sat with you and enjoyed the night's breeze.

"i don't know how much longer i can do this," you finally said.

johnny looked over at you. your eyes were closed, hair moving a bit in the wind.

"what do you mean?"

johnny watched you open your eyes and look right at him.

"i want to leave."

"wh-" johnny was speechless. his heart broke and his mind went blank at the same time. he hoped to whatever gods existed that you just meant you wanted to leave the restaurant.

"you're thinking about leaving nct?"

you nodded.

"but-" johnny stopped himself. he felt weak. he wanted to beg you not to leave him. he didn't want to be in a group that didn't have you in it. he didn't want a life where he wouldn't see you everyday. but that would've been selfish on his part. he saw how exhausted you were every single day, how you were just dying off slowly.

"i'm sorry," you mumbled. "i'm really sorry."

johnny wasn't sure how to answer. he wanted to tell you it was okay, but he couldn't stop asking himself why. what about the almost twenty years you'd spent together? what about the kiss the two of you shared last month and had yet to breathe a word about because you were both too scared shitless. what about the future he'd thought about with you?

"i understand," he said instead. "do you think.. maybe just a long break will help?"

"a break from the job that will consist of the same bullshit when i come back? not really.."

johnny nodded. you had a point, yet again. you'd been mistreated and taken advantage of too many times.

"if this is what you end up deciding.. i support you. just promise i won't lose you."

"you couldn't lose me even if you wanted to."

johnny gave you a small smile and nodded. his eyes flickered to your lips before he forced himself to look away.

"are you okay?" you asked him. he looked at you again, a little surprised by your asking.

"me?"

you laughed. "yes, you."

johnny gave a foolish chuckle and rubbed his hands together.

"i'm.. alright. i've been more worried about you honestly."

your gaze lingered on him, a fond grin on your face. johnny couldn't help himself anymore. he leaned over and pressed his lips against yours. he felt like fireworks were going off inside his head. he wasn't sure what came over him. maybe he needed something good to happen after receiving such bad news, or maybe he was just tired of waiting for fate. whatever the reason, he was just glad you were kissing him back.

"johnny-"

johnny pulled away from you. his face grew red quickly as he stared at you in shock.

"sorry.. i don't.. i don't know why i did that."

you smiled and touched your lips with your fingers.

"it's okay," you were about to say more until jungwoo swung the door of the restaurant open in search of the two of you. his eyes sparkled once they landed on you both.

"come back inside! we're getting more drinks!"

you looked down at your lap as jungwoo disappeared back inside. johnny sighed and stood up.

"coming?" he said as he looked down at you. you were about to join him, but something pulled you back.

"mm, no. i think i'm gonna go home."

"oh." johnny wasn't very good at hiding his disappointment. "are we okay..?"

"oh, no, yes! yes, we're great. i promise." you gave him your best smile while finally standing up. he just stared at you for a second before believing you.

"alright.. i'll see you tomorrow?"

"mhm," you nodded.

"goodnight." he gave you an awkward hug that he regretted the second he separated from you again. you giggled at how cute he was, then waved him goodbye for the night.

you watched him meet the other members inside as you got into your car. they all smiled as johnny sat back down at the large table, cheering to a round of drinks. you felt a harsh tug at your heart and started your car to go home.

"where's yn?"

"he's not here yet?"

"obviously not. that's why i asked where he is."

johnny shook his head as he watched doyoung and mark bicker, then laugh at each other. their manager stepped in for a moment, catching johnny's eye instantly.

"hey guys. yn won't be joining in on the schedules today."

"what?"

"is he sick?"

johnny didn't say anything. he listened to the others ask questions and their manager reply with vague, unsure answers. you didn't seem sick last night and you barely drank anything. maybe you were faking being sick. you deserved a day off anyways.

the day passed slowly for johnny. he loved the other members, but you seemed to be the one he'd always drift to without even trying.

once he finally got home, he took a long shower and began making dinner. he was kind of worried. he texted you earlier that day after learning you wouldn't be joining the group. he just asked if you were okay, but he'd received no answer. you hadn't even read the message.

johnny sighed and tossed his phone aside. he looked down at his dinner, swirling his food around with no appetite. the second he heard his phone vibrate, he picked it up again. it wasn't you, only haechan.

haechan :

have you seen this???

[link attachment]

johnny pressed on it, assuming it would be some stupid video. it brought him to a breaking news article instead. one featuring your photo and a big bold headline.

nct member YN files lawsuit to terminate contract with sm entertainment.

johnny's heart dropped.

"what the fuck?" he brought his phone up closer to his face, his back straightening out. he didn't even begin to read the article. he just went straight to your contact in his phone and called you.

it rang for a second, then sent him to voicemail. he didn't know what to do. were you actually leaving? and why wasn't it discussed as a group?

a knock on his front door brought him back to reality. he groaned and set his phone down again. but when he opened the door, there you were. you and your tired, slouching posture and your hoodie over your messy hair.

you gave him a smile.

"hi, johnny."

#kpop x male reader #male reader #nct x male reader #nct #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct ff #nct fluff #nct angst #johnny #johnny suh #nct johnny #johnny x reader #nct 127 #kpop angst #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic

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kingofthe-egirls · 1 year ago

Text

SITTING PRETTY: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: alcohol, kitsune, east blue crew, yes i was imagining the opla cast but so were you, kissing, sitting in someone’s lap)

(a/n: this was so fun. smut maybe coming soon? we’ll see)

Songs: “Hotel” by Claire Rosinkranz

words: 1.2k

Luffy is staring at you.

He’s sitting across the campfire from you, sipping a glass of milk through a straw. You have your own moscow mule in hand, the copper mug sweating with cold condensation.

The air smells like smoke.

“So!” Luffy speaks, twirling his straw around in his drink. He slurps it loudly before continuing, “Let’s play a game!”

He smiles around at the rest of the crew, who are all in their own various states of intoxication. It’s been a long night, after several days at sea with no islands in sight. Everyone is a little bored, a little stressed, and more than a little in need of blowing off some steam. Nami shrugs.

“Sure, captain. What’s up?”

Luffy leans forward, wicked smirk painting his charming features. You stare down into your melted ice and muddled mint leaves.

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

Zoro sighs, but leans forward too. Sanji and Usopp also perk up. The Merry creaks in the waves as she sails. The ocean laps at her sides, soothing and peaceful in the summer night air. The campfire sparks up with a flare.

Luffy slurps his milk.

“What are the stakes?” Nami asks, adjusting in her seat, her boots slung over one another as she leans back. Usopp is fiddling with his slingshot.

Zoro shrugs, “Drink if you won’t take a dare, drink twice if you won’t take a truth.”

“So, we’re trying to outmatch each other? Get stuff we won’t wanna do?”

“Sorta,” Zoro says, “S’alright with everyone?”

“Sounds fun,” you admit, downing your glass before handing it off to Sanji. He’s a sucker for your sparkly eyes and fluffy tails. Your ears flick back and forth, excited. Nervous.

Sanji hurries back with a refill.

He straightens his suit jacket before sitting back down. The indigo night washes over him with a flattering, velvet softness. You wonder what shade of blue his eyes are, up close.

Luffy clears his throat.

“Sooo, who wants to go first?” His shining eyes scan the crew, and you flick up a tail (or two). He smiles, and takes a sip of his kid’s drink.

You sigh. “Truth,” you say, staring at Nami. You figure she’s gonna strike the worst, so might as well get it over with first. She stares at you, flicking her eyes up and down your scrappy frame. She arches an auburn brow.

“So, Kitty,” she sips her cider, and Sanji shifts in his seat. “Have you ever had sex before?”

She’s smiling, devilish, as you snort through your drink. She laughs as you cough, orange hair swaying in the soft breeze. Everyone else stutters and laughs, and Zoro mutters something about “starting off strong.” You swallow, sucking your teeth as you swirl melted ice around your drink.

“Yes.”

Everyone sighs out in relief, tension removed for a second of release.

Your eyes flick up to hers.

“Your turn.”

She stares back at you: a challenge.

“Dare.”

You shrug, mouth turned down, “I dare you to say when the last time you had sex was.” You stare at her glare, as she clocks you basically just gave her a truth anyway. She sniffs.

“Last week.”

“Liar!” You say, and she giggles. You shove the bottle of tequila closer to her, and she swallows what is certainly more than just one shot.

“Your turn,” she says to Zoro, who glances at Luffy for his prompt.

Luffy stares at the floor, now-empty glass held loosely in slender fingers. “What…is your favorite color?”

“I didn’t say truth, captain,” Zoro snorts, “Truth or dare, Luffy.”

“Dare?”

Sanji sighs, and Usopp says “we might as well go with it,” so Zoro sighs and starts to think of something to dare his already-reckless captain with. He settles on something silly, and tame.

“I dare you to slingshot back and forth across the ship five times.”

Happy to be moving, your hyperactive friend shoots up and starts gum-gum rocketing across the ship with no small amount of shouting. You swirl the mint leaves in your drink. “Your turn,” you murmur to Usopp, who gives Sanji a glance.

“Truth or dare?” The chef asks, his own glass of wine clutched in his delicate fist. It’s as dark as the sea.

“Truth.”

“What do Kaya’s lips taste like?”

The group ooo’s in scandalous delight, all eyes on the sniper as he stares down into his drink. “Pass,” he says, and takes a huge slurp. It dribbles down his chin. “Who’s turn is next?”

“Sanji,” you say, turning to him with a smile, “Truth or dare, handsome?”

He blushes at your pet name, and someone coughs. The blond boy licks his lips. His eyes meet yours, reflecting the fire’s red heat.

“Dare.”

“Kiss my cheek,” you preen, tails flicking around you. You bare the side of your face to him, sitting pretty by the campfire. Your scrappy jeans have stitched-on patches, and your crop top hangs loose around your frame. A single pendant hangs around your neck, and your hair is twisted into messy braids. You knock your steel-toed boots together.

Sanji hums, peaceful, as he delicately scoots toward you. He’s already sitting next to you, tall legs and broad shoulders bumping into yours as he settles closer in. His hand is slightly cool as it graces the side of your neck. “Be still, pretty,” he whispers, just for you, as he presses a slow smooch against your cheek. He bites it, playfully, and you swat him away with a fearsome blush.

Usopp giggles, and Nami snorts into her cider again. Zoro and Luffy are both silent. You swallow, and cast about the crew for someone else’s turn. “Is it me again?” You ask, and Zoro nods.

“Truth or dare?” He says, sake almost drained from his bottle. The air stills, sudden breeze gone quiet as you sit together. You curl two tails around yourself, petting the soft, arctic fur in your lap. It scratches against the striped patch on the side of your left hip.

“Truth.”

“Nope,” Zoro says, swigging his sake, “Truth is boring. You’re doing a dare. Sit in the lap of the person you’d most like to have sex with.”

Everyone gasps, except for you.

Your eyes burn with smoke, staring down the swordsman across the crackling flames. Sparks shoot up between you, orange and hazy in the moonlight. Something thumps against the ship; a fish or a shark that swims away silently.

You stand.

Sanji shifts, still close to you from his kiss. He scratches the fabric of his slacks above his left knee. His shoes are shiny and black beneath the stars. You step over them, carefully.

And you make your way across the circle, slowly as a shark circling prey.

“Sorry,” you whisper, standing in front of the captain who saved you, “Is this seat taken?”

He stares at you.

His breath comes ragged and hazy, as he sets his glass down to make room. His hands are sweaty, so he wipes them off on his shorts as you stand beside his hip. He leans back, slightly, to let you sit side-saddle across his legs. He shifts on the deck so he’s cross-legged, and you take your seat with a searing blush. Your ass fits neatly into the space between his crisscrossed legs, his heat spilling into your body as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He nuzzles into your cheek, his soft hair tickling your jaw. “Sleeping in my hammock tonight,” he whispers, his lips in your hair, “Captain’s orders.”

****

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #kitty speaks #luffy x y/n #luffy x kitsune #luffy x kitty #luffy x oc #luffy x you #sanji x you #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #vasya #fox tales #kitsune oc

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