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blythesarchives · 22 days ago

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To Where and Back Again. | B.B

summary: Bucky gets triggered to Winter Soldier mode, and his focus is on you.

a/n: This fic contains a brief scene of attempted SA. The scene will be marked by dividers. If you do not wish to read that bit, please skip the portions between the star dividers.

I'm not a huge fan of aggressive, 'dom!WS,' my perspective on him is completely different, but...I dunno. I figured I'd try the view that everyone seems to like more. My view on him as WS is extremely complex, and it changes depending on his healing stage. So I tried to keep true to my own views but also have some in there that people enjoy. If any Russian was translated wrong, please lmk. ;; wc: 8.4k

a/n post writing: I will not be writing this version of him again, I didn't enjoy it enough to write a dom!WS again. I considered not posting this, since I don't like how it came out, but I wanted to see if anyone enjoyed this version.

Alarms blared throughout the facility, their piercing sound echoing off metal walls as crimson emergency lights cast eerie shadows across empty corridors. In an instant, like a ghost melting into darkness, the soldier vanished from his holding cell without a trace.

No one stood a chance of apprehending him. Even Steve, with his enhanced abilities and intimate knowledge of his old friend's tactics, found himself outmaneuvered. The Winter Soldier moved with calculated precision, each step chosen to shake any pursuit. When he rounded that final corner, disappearing into the maze of hallways, Steve was left standing alone, the sound of his footsteps fading into silence.

Your heart ached with concern when you got the call he was gone.

Since relocating from his sparse, weathered apartment in Romania to your place in New York, Bucky had maintained a distance from others, choosing solitude over social interaction. Steve did try to interact, but his eagerness was too overwhelming at times and Bucky’s social battery wore out fast. Though he managed to function day to day, it was a constant struggle.

You became his anchor, sitting beside him on bundled blankets through countless nights as he huddled near the soft glow of a small lamp, piecing together fragments of his past, one memory at a time.

You were the one person he could truly lower his guard and feel secure around. Night after night, he would settle down to sleep on the floor beside your bed, finding comfort in proximity. Rather than leave him alone, you would join him there most nights, bringing blankets and pillows to make it more comfortable for him. Bucky protested each time, insisting you shouldn't abandon the comfort of your bed for his sake, but you could see in his eyes and feel in the way his body relaxed beside yours that your presence brought him peace.

So you continued to lay with him on the floor, besides, your carpeted bedroom was pretty comfortable.

When Steve's urgent call came through about Bucky's escape, a wave of intense nausea washed over you as overwhelming anxiety seized your entire body. The Winter Soldier's emergence after such a long period of dormancy filled you with dread.

The complex nature of his existence within Bucky's psyche remained too complicated to think about for long - whether he was a separate consciousness, an alternate personality, or something else entirely. You came to the conclusion that the Winter Soldier was indeed a separate identity, he was and wasn't Bucky. He had his own thoughts, his own way of thinking, his own demeanor.

And that made you extremely nervous.

You paced across your living room floor, unconsciously chewing your nails down to the quick as you tried to regain some semblance of composure.

He'd be fine...he'd be fine. He's smart, skillful, he knows how to stay out of sight and safe...he's survived worse situations before...

The persistent, gnawing fear of the soldier being captured refused to release its grip on your mind. Your thoughts spiraled into increasingly dark scenarios - heavily armed teams surrounding him, the soldier's violent resistance, and Bucky being forcibly restrained and dragged away to some unknown facility while fighting against his captors with every ounce of strength he possessed.

You really didn't want to think about it.

Steve tried his best to keep you informed of any developments, but information was frustratingly scarce. The Winter Soldier was a phantom that left no footprints, no evidence, no trail to follow. Each passing day, your heart ached with desperate wishes for his return. You constantly checked your doorstep, watching your window late into the night, hoping against hope that he would materialize there like he had so many times before. You would have settled for anything - a glimpse, a sign, even the smallest indication that he was still out there somewhere, anything at all.

The gnawing anxiety in your stomach had become an ever-present reminder of his absence. Try as you might to maintain some semblance of normalcy, your thoughts inevitably circled back to him like a compass finding true north.

Your mind raced with endless questions and scenarios, each one only making your anxiety worsen: Was he wandering the streets of some distant city? Had he found somewhere safe to lay low? Was he fighting his own battles somewhere, injured and alone?

Try as you might, your mind remained plagued.

Several weeks went by without a single notice of the soldier.

You were making your way back to your apartment complex from a nearby convenience store in the dimming evening light, carrying a small plastic bag with a few basic necessities. The street was eerily quiet, with only the distant sound of traffic and the occasional flutter of pigeons settling in for the night.

While you walked back along the familiar route, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stood up as rough, calloused hands grabbed you from behind, violently yanking you into the shadowy alley you were passing. The hands were merciless in their grip, tugging at your clothes and forcefully shoving you against the cold, rough surface of the brick building so he could get a better grip after disorienting you.

You felt the sharp kiss of cold steel against your throat, while another hand roughly yanked your hair back, exposing your neck further. The man who stood behind you pressed close, his hot breath spitting against your ear and cheek as he spoke. "Make this easy and don't lie to me. I know you got some money in there." His voice was low and unsteady, wavering between excitement and nervousness, like a predator who hadn't quite mastered their technique but knew enough to be dangerous.

The blade pressed harder against your neck, the cold metal beginning to warm against your skin as he repeated his demand for money with increasing urgency, the edge threatening to break skin.

You obliged without hesitation, knowing that you were alone in this dark alley with no witnesses or help in sight, desperately hoping that giving him all the cash you had would be enough to satisfy him into running off into the night. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you reached into your wallet, fumbling with the bills before pulling them out and extending them backwards toward him.

He snatched the money away from your shaking fingers with an aggressive swipe, and you could hear the rustle of paper as he counted it in the dim light. "A hundred bucks and you're carryin' around a pretty expensive bag like that?" He asked gruffly, his voice filled with suspicious disbelief as he violently ripped your purse from your arm, the strap burning against your skin as it was torn away.

Bucky gave you that bag - a beautiful leather purse you had admired longingly through the mall window months ago. He had noticed your gaze and worked extra shifts for weeks, carefully saving every dollar until he could finally surprise you with it. The memory of his proud smile when he presented it to you made your heart ache. You couldn't bear the thought of it being stolen, not when it meant so much.

"Hey, give that back - I gave you all the money I had!" Your voice cracked with desperation as you lunged forward, fingers outstretched toward your purse. The attacker's response was swift as he laid a vicious backhand that sent you sprawling onto the ground. The rough cement scraped against your palms as you tried to push yourself up, your cheek throbbing where he had struck you. Through watering eyes, you could only watch helplessly as the stranger clutched your precious bag in his grimy hands.

Without warning, his heavy boot connected with your face with a sickening crack that sent waves of pain radiating through your skull. The impact left you reeling, your world spinning as an intense burning sensation spread from your nose throughout your entire sinus cavity. Your eyes immediately welled up with involuntary tears and squeezed shut against the agony. Instinctively, you covered your nose with one trembling hand, feeling the warm wetness of blood flowing freely between your fingers, soaking into both your palm and the sleeve of your jacket.

Before you could process what was happening, a rough hand seized your throat, forcefully pinning you against the cold, damp ground beneath. The man's grip tightened with calculated pressure - just enough to immobilize you while still allowing shallow breaths.

"You're turning out to be far more trouble than this thing is worth," he growled in frustration, carelessly tossing the bag into a murky puddle that had collected near the rusted dumpster. His eyes took on a predatory gleam as they raked over you, like a prize to be had. "I think I need to take something else from you instead...and since you're not wearing any jewelry I can see..." He let the threat hang in the air. "I'll just have to improvise."

The man raised the knife to your face, the cold steel barely grazed your skin as he traced it downward, following the curve of your neck until it reached your collarbone. "I think I know exactly what I want to take," he whispered, his voice thick with malice. “You’re gonna be a good little thing, and stay still.” His hand slipped beneath your top, making you recoil at the revolting sensation of his ice-cold fingers and the rough texture of his tattered, fingerless gloves against your skin. Your instinctive struggle against his touch only served to anger him further.

"I said stop moving!" he snarled, pressing the blade against your delicate skin with more force. The sharp edge bit into your sternum, leaving a shallow cut several inches long before he began using it to slice through the fabric of your top. Pure panic overwhelmed your senses as your eyes desperately darted to your discarded purse. Your thoughts turned to Bucky - his sudden absence, his unexplained disappearance when you needed him most.

The crushing weight of helplessness threatened to suffocate you.

Self-loathing crashed over you in waves as you lay there. You weren't someone extraordinary or remarkable - you had no special training or impressive skills. What little self-defense you knew was useless against an attacker who so drastically outmatched you in both size and strength, especially now that you were injured. Bitter regret filled your mind as you berated yourself for not training harder when you had the chance, for not carrying something - anything - to defend yourself with, even a simple taser.

As you tried to block out the horrifying sound of your clothing being torn apart by his blade, your gaze was drawn once again to your purse lying just out of reach. The memory of Bucky giving it to you surfaced - how nervous he had been that day, the way his fingers fidgeted anxiously as he watched you pull it from its gift wrap.

That precious memory stood out so vividly now, the way his eyes had lit up with pure joy at your reaction. It was a rare moment of unbridled happiness for him, his smile brighter and more genuine than you had ever seen before or since that perfect day. Normally so cloudy and heavy with silent burdens, you were the one who brought that smile to his face.

The thought of Bucky suddenly triggered an overwhelming rush of adrenaline that sharpened your senses to the situation, surging through your mind like an electric current. Fragmented memories cascaded through your consciousness as you channeled every ounce of strength into a desperate defensive maneuver, squirming and positioning your feet against your attacker's midsection before unleashing a powerful kick that sent him flying backward, his body crashing heavily onto the rain-slicked ground.

“GAH - you bitch!” The man let out a pained, strangled groan with a venomous spit of words, laying as the wind had been knocked out of him for several seconds.

With your heart pounding a tattoo against your ribcage, you frantically scrambled to reorient yourself, turning onto your stomach and pushing yourself up with trembling arms. Your fingers clutched desperately at the waterlogged purse as you launched into motion.

You managed to maintain your footing as you executed a sharp turn around the alley corner, your shoes striking rhythmically against the glistening sidewalk. You were running on pure instinct now, like a frightened deer fleeing from an approaching predator. Behind you, your pursuer's voice carried through the night air, a stream of vulgar threats and curses that seemed to tear from his throat with increasing rage.

Fear kept your gaze locked firmly ahead as you pushed your body to its limits, your sole focus on reaching the sanctuary of your apartment building. The shopping bag of groceries lay forgotten somewhere in the darkness behind you, abandoned in your desperate flight. Each labored breath sent sharp pains through your chest, the cut on your sternum bled and burned while warm blood continued to trickle from your nose, creating a pulsing ache that radiated through your skull with every footfall.

The familiar silhouette of your apartment building finally emerged from the darkness ahead, though in your panicked state, you remained oblivious to the fact that the sound of pursuing footsteps had long since faded into the night's silence.

You were trembling violently as you stumbled inside the building, your legs barely supporting your weight as panic coursed through your veins. The elevator wasn't even a consideration - your mind screamed at you to run up the stairs, to get inside your apartment where you'd be safe. Your fingers, surprisingly steady despite the rest of your body's betrayal, found the key without fail and slid it into the lock with a metallic scrape that sounded deafening in the empty hallway.

The door flew open under your desperate push, and you practically threw yourself across the threshold, slamming it shut with enough force to rattle the hinges. Your trembling hands fumbled with both locks, clicking them into place before you staggered backward, eyes fixed on the door as if it might disappear. Your lungs burned with each ragged breath, chest heaving as you tried to force air through a throat that felt too tight, too constricted. Each desperate gasp was a battle, your diaphragm spasming as it struggled to maintain any semblance of rhythm against your body's frantic demands for oxygen.

The weight of your rain-soaked purse slipped from your numb fingers, landing with a wet thud beside your dropped keys as your legs finally gave out. The survival response that had propelled you home began to ebb away as your brain registered the relative safety of your surroundings, leaving you crumpled on the floor like a marionette with cut strings. A fresh wave of nausea rolled through your body as you collapsed onto your back, and you pressed your heated skin against the cool ceramic tiles of the entryway, letting their solid presence anchor you to reality.

You remained motionless on the floor for a while, your consciousness focused solely on the relentless throbbing that pulsed through your nose with each heartbeat. The long laceration across your chest continued to weep blood, creating a warm, sticky sensation that contrasted sharply with your exposed skin. Your once-whole top now hung in tatters, split cleanly down the middle, leaving your torso vulnerable to the apartment's cool air that raised goosebumps across your flesh.

After the intense tightness in your lungs faded, you summoned the strength to push yourself up from the floor. You wanted a shower, to get all the grime off you, and you began the arduous process of removing your ruined clothing. Your soggy jacket hits the floor with a wet smack; your shirt, nothing more than scraps of fabric; and your pants, uncomfortably damp as they clung to your skin.

Standing naked in your bathroom, you stepped carefully into the shower, eager to feel clean from the dirt of the city and the hands that had been on you.

It wasn't until the shampoo made contact with your hand that you realized your palms were thoroughly scraped raw, the skin torn and angry. The sudden contact with the soap sent white-hot bolts of pain shooting through your nerve endings, making you inhale sharply through your teeth. You resisted the instinct to flick your hand and get the shampoo off, it would be pointless in the long run. You’d still have to wash yourself.

A string of colorful expletives escaped your lips in a harsh whisper, and you abandoned any notion of a thorough cleansing in favor of getting the ordeal over with as quickly as possible, your movements now hurried by the stinging sensation that refused to subside.

The warm towel you dried off with would've felt nice if you weren't still in pain, the soft fabric doing little to soothe your aching muscles. While you attempted to tend to your injured hands first, carefully examining the damage and considering what supplies you might need, your phone suddenly buzzed on the counter beside you. The notification that illuminated the screen came from Steve, a text message appearing with an American flag emoji, thoughtfully placed by his name as a joke when you first added him to your contacts.

'He's been spotted downtown in the commercial district. Going after him with a tactical team. Stay home until further notice. We will notify you immediately when he is in custody. - Steve Rogers'

You had to hold back an eye roll at his overly formal message style, your fingers awkwardly fumbling as you managed to type back a response using just two fingers that weren't bandaged.

'You don't have to put your name with every text message you send, you know. I have you saved as a contact in my phone, like everyone else does.'

A beat of silence followed, your thumb hovering over the keyboard before adding:

'Be careful.'

You didn't really mean those words of caution for him, though - your worries were entirely focused on Bucky. The Winter Soldier would stop at nothing to get away from any perceived threat or danger, and a group of heavily armed SHIELD agents pursuing him would definitely register as a serious threat in his fractured mind. You knew all too well that when cornered, his first and most deeply ingrained instinct is to kill, without hesitation or mercy.

Distracting yourself with the mounting frustration of attempting to bandage your own palms, you struggled for what felt like an eternity, trying different angles and approaches to wrap them securely enough. After about an hour of fumbling with the increasingly mangled gauze, your patience finally wore thin. You dropped the ruined medical supplies onto the bathroom counter with a defeated sigh, closing your eyes and taking several deep breaths to try to calm your rising frustration before you became too agitated to continue tending to your wounds.

The quiet but distinct sound of something shifting in the neighboring room made you freeze mid-breath, your senses suddenly heightened as your hearing narrowed in on the subtle noise. It sounded like something soft had been displaced - perhaps a throw pillow tumbling from your couch, landing with an almost imperceptible thud against the floor.

You did not own a pet. You lived alone in this apartment - well, right now you did, with Bucky on the loose.

Had the man that attempted to hurt you somehow manage to follow you here? The thought sent ice through your veins, remembering the helplessness you felt.

Your heart rate accelerated rapidly, pounding against your ribcage, but you couldn't hear the rush of blood in your ears as your senses remained hyper-focused and alert, straining to detect any additional sounds that might betray an intruder's presence in your home.

You did not have any weapons with you, scanning the bathroom frantically for anything that could serve as protection. Your eyes landed on the medicine cabinet where a simple disposable shaving razor sat innocently on the middle shelf. Not ideal, but in desperate times, a shaving razor would have to suffice if need be.

You remained completely still, ears straining in the silence as you listened intently for several minutes before gathering enough courage to peek out of the bathroom. The darkness of your apartment stretched before you like an endless void, and you silently berated yourself for not having the foresight to turn on the lights when you first heard the noise.

After you heard nothing more, you took another cautious peek, your head venturing just a little further past the bathroom door frame this time. The shadows revealed nothing unusual. Your bare feet made soft, pattering sounds as they carried you down the hallway, the plush material of the living room rug cushioning your step as you reached it.

Your attention was immediately drawn to one of the decorative throw pillows lying haphazardly on the floor, displaced from its usual position on the couch. You reached down to return it to its rightful place among the other cushions, sighing to yourself.

A thorough visual sweep revealed no obvious signs of forced entry. The windows remained securely locked, and nothing else appeared disturbed. You were probably just being paranoid from what happened earlier.

Somewhat relieved but still on edge, you turned to make your way back to the bathroom to resume tending to yourself when your blood ran cold. There, barely an arm's length away, stood a looming figure. Time seemed to freeze as he stared down at you, and the scream building in your throat was cut short when his arm shot out with lightning speed, fingers wrapping around your throat.

Terror coursed through your veins as your eyes instinctively squeezed shut, your mind convinced this was the robber from before, somehow finding you in your home like a hound tracking its prey.

His grip was calculated as he drew you closer - not crushing or aggressive, but firm enough so you had no chance of pulling away.

"Цветок [Flower]..." The voice that emerged was rough and coarse from disuse, scratching against his throat like sandpaper. You swallowed reflexively around his iron grip, your eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light until his features became clear enough to recognize.

"Bucky?" Your voice barely more than a frightened squeak, sounding small and fragile even to your own ears, every syllable quivering with poorly concealed terror as your wide eyes remained fixed on his face. "Wh...where have you been," You started to voice the countless questions that had plagued your thoughts for so long, but the words died in your throat.

This wasn't Bucky - at least, not the Bucky you knew. The evidence was written plainly across his features.

His eyes held an emptiness to them, like staring into the depths of a frozen lake - cold, bottomless, devoid of warmth or recognition. His brow was deeply furrowed in what might have appeared to be anger, but lacked the heat of genuine emotion behind it.

Instead, there was a disconcerting blend of confusion and vacancy in his expression, as though he was caught between two worlds - not fully present in either, yet not completely absent. The man before you existed in some twilight state between consciousness and programming, humanity and weapon.

"Soldat..." You strained, your voice barely above a whisper as you attempted to forge a connection with him. You had interacted with him like this before, spoken gentle words that seemed to pierce through his conditioning, successfully managed to calm his volatile state. Deep down, you knew that beneath layers of programming and conditioning, there remained a fragment of recognition. Even if the Winter Soldier was his own identity, you knew he saw you as someone significant…even if it were small.

His penetrating gaze slowly traveled downward, taking in every detail of your injured form. The thin fabric of your bra provided no concealment for the angry wound that carved its way across your sternum - that long, jagged cut that traced a cruel path downward before curving delicately beneath your right breast.

His eyes lingered on your nose, now painfully swollen and decorated with spreading bruises, dried blood still clinging to your skin. You could feel his attention shift to where your hands rested against his flesh arm, your palms raw and scraped up from the earlier struggle.

His eyes narrowed.

Without uttering a single word, he released your neck in favor of your arm and guided you down the dimly lit hallway toward the bathroom, where a thin sliver of light spilled through the partially opened door.

"Сидеть [Sit]," he commanded firmly, gesturing towards the toilet with a motion of his hand while his intense gaze bore into you. The warm lighting of the cramped bathroom cast stark shadows across his features as you carefully studied his appearance.

Your eyes traced over him - he appeared relatively intact, though somewhat disheveled. Despite your thorough examination, you couldn't detect any concerning injuries marring his form, no purple-black bruises blooming across exposed skin or telling tears in the fabric of his clothes. The only betrayal of his condition were the pronounced dark circles carved beneath his eyes, though their presence hardly surprised you given what you knew of his circumstances.

Without resistance, you followed his direction without protest, knowing that any sign of defiance could potentially trigger his volatile nature. Though he had come to view you as someone of significance, you remained acutely aware that he was far from domesticated - his actions still carried an air of unpredictability that kept you vigilant. His piercing gaze shifted to assess the scattered medical supplies you had left strewn about, his expression hardening slightly as he regarded you.

"Вы устроили беспорядок [You made a mess]," he remarked, his tone flat and uninflected as he gathered the discarded gauze in one fluid motion, depositing it into the waste bin beside the sink. Though the foreign words held no meaning to you, the disapproving edge in his voice suggested some form of criticism.

"I couldn't wrap my hands." Your words came out as a quiet explanation as you extended your palms for inspection. The skin was inflamed and angry, scattered with tiny abrasions where fragments of stone and the rough terrain had scraped against your flesh during your earlier ordeal. The soldier's attention dropped to examine your injuries, and without warning, he pulled you upright, maneuvering you against the counter's edge as his solid frame pressed firmly against your back.

The proximity made your throat feel tight, a shiver running down your spine at his closeness.

One warm hand, one cool hand, both encircled your wrists from behind, his grip firm but mindful. His thumbs pressed gently against the upper parts of your palms, just below where your fingers began, as he tilted your hands upward to examine the extent of the small wounds. His touch remained delicate as he rotated your wrists, ensuring he could thoroughly assess your palms from every angle. The damage was most severe at the heels of your palms, where the skin had been viciously torn away, leaving raw flesh exposed.

Despite the anxiety fluttering in your chest, you found yourself trusting him, even in this vulnerable state. He turned on the faucet, adjusting it until the water flowed in a gentle stream, and guided your injured palms beneath it. The cool water ran soothingly over your wounds for several long moments before he spoke. "Need disinfectant." He reached for that dreaded brown bottle, the white cap making a sharp click as he flipped it open. The harsh, medicinal smell immediately assaulted your nostrils, making your stomach turn.

"No, that stuff stinks and hurts-"

"Да [Yes]," his voice resonated deeply, the tone both authoritative and reassuring, "Keep still."

You instinctively tried to pull away at the last second, your body reacting to the anticipated pain, but your efforts were futile. The bubbling, burning sensation that erupted across your already raw and flayed palms was as excruciating as you expected, feeling like liquid fire dancing across your tender flesh. A sharp hiss of pain escaped through your clenched teeth as his metal hand maintained an unwavering grip on your wrists, while his right hand carefully but firmly continued pouring the peroxide over your wounds.

The thought crossed your mind that you desperately wished for any other kind of disinfectant - something gentler, less aggressive. There had been countless opportunities to purchase alternatives during your supply runs, yet somehow you had never gotten around to it.

Words of protest formed on your lips, but remained unspoken as he allowed the peroxide to bubble and foam on your palm. His eyes remained fixed on your injury, watching intently until the chemical reaction subsided before finally guiding your hands under the stream of cool water.

You sighed with relief, the pain running away with the water washing over the wound. Tears began to well up in your eyes, rapidly blinking in an attempt to disperse them before they could fall. The intensity of the peroxide's sting had caught you off guard, leaving you feeling frustrated at your own vulnerability.

It reminded you of being a kid again, having someone else tend to you was a memory long lost. Now it had been brought back in a wave of emotions, the smell, sensation, and situation all mixing together to stimulate all sorts of reactions from you.

The soldier's keen observation skills didn't miss your distress - they never did. His towering frame leaned closer, bringing with it a sense of protective presence. His thumb began drawing gentle, soothing circles against your inner wrist while he continued holding your hands beneath the running water. "Хорошая работа [Good job]," he murmured, his lips brushing your temple in a feather-light touch.

The foreign words were lost in translation, but somehow that didn't matter. The low, reassuring timbre of his voice was comfort enough, wrapping around you like a protective blanket against the lingering sting.

You let out a soft, shuddering breath when he repeated the process with the other wrist, the pain burning just as intensely as before. This time, an overwhelming wave of nostalgic longing washed over you, causing hot tears to stream steadily down your darkened cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake.

"Тише [Quiet]," he murmured under his breath to you, "Hush now..."

"It hurts," your voice trembled and cracked as you fought to maintain the stillness he required, but the surge of emotions proved too powerful to contain, breaking free despite your best efforts to hold them back.

"Скоро все закончится [It will all be over soon]," the soldier carefully held your wrist under the cool running water once the aggressive bubbling finally subsided, offering blessed relief to your burning skin.

Peroxide was the devil.

He guided you back to sit on the toilet lid, his fingers working with practiced precision as he applied a soothing layer of ointment to your tender palms before wrapping them in clean, sterile gauze. "Вам понадобится марля, которая не прилипает к ранам, и липкая лента, чтобы удерживать ее на месте [You'll need gauze that doesn't stick to wounds and tape to hold it in place]," he muttered under his breath, continuing his ministrations until both palms were thoroughly and professionally dressed.

The confused, gentle tilt of your head and furrowed brow made it clear you hadn't understood a single word of his Russian.

He arched a single dark brow slightly and gave a small, knowing shake of his head. "Nevermind. It is done."

He reached out to you, his experienced eyes carefully examining the laceration across your chest. He assessed the wound and identified its source without hesitation.

A blade - specifically a pocket knife.

Approximately 4 to 5 inches.

Serrated edges that showed signs of poor maintenance.

The cut began with a forceful, deep penetration that gradually lost power as it traced across the flesh, creating an uneven gash that grew increasingly superficial toward its terminus. The irregular pattern suggested an amateur attacker, likely in a rushed confrontation.

The soldier released a disapproving grunt as he began treatment, cleaning the wound with gentle dabs of a sterile cloth. You were grateful for this relatively gentle approach, preferring not to feel the searing sting of peroxide you'd endured earlier. His expression remained intensely focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he cleared away the blood and thoroughly disinfected the area before applying a protective dressing over the awkwardly positioned wound.

"There. Законченный [Finished]." He withdrew his hands and efficiently disposed of the used bandaging materials in the nearby waste bin. Your nose had sustained damage as well, he'd done what he could to clean it, despite the limited treatment options for that particular injury.

"Thank you," you whispered quietly, your voice barely audible as you watched him examine the bandage with intense concentration. His eyes remained fixed on his careful wrapping job, studying every fold and layer with methodical precision, as if to ensure it would stay.

When his gaze finally lifted to meet yours, the room fell into a heavy silence. He remained completely motionless for several long moments, his expression unreadable as he seemed to contemplate something. Then, he leaned forward in one fluid motion, his strong hands grasping your upper arms as he helped you to stand.

For a moment, you remained silent, gazing up into those pretty blue eyes of his, now devoid of the characteristic warmth and tenderness that Bucky typically reserved for you. They were cold, distant, unnervingly empty compared to what you had grown accustomed to, shadowed by the calculating precision of the soldier's mentality that had overtaken him.

He returned your stare with unwavering intensity, his lips pressed into a firm line, offering no words. Your mind raced with things you wanted to express, but the right words seemed elusive, slipping away before you could grasp them properly. The only thing you could consistently think of was the dreaded thought that he would disappear again.

"Don't go," you whispered to him, "Please...I can't...I can't lose you again." The fragile plea escaped your lips and caused your voice to waver, betraying the emotions that surged through you at the sight of him standing before you, inside your apartment after weeks of his disappearance.

Bucky, Winter, Soldat, whatever identity currently inhabited the familiar body of the man you knew—continued to observe you right back with an unreadable expression, not a single flicker of recognition or emotion disrupting the stoic mask he wore. His powerful hands maintained their unyielding grasp on your upper arms, fingers pressing into your flesh with surprising restraint.

When you attempted to shift position to get closer, his only response was to tighten his grip further, a barely perceptible furrow appearing between his brows.

Undeterred, you squirmed again, desperately seeking to establish a connection with the man you knew existed somewhere behind those vacant eyes. The bandages wrapped around your hands created an unwelcome barrier between you, limiting the skin on skin contact you craved.

You managed to reach his face within his grip, gently cradling his stubbled cheeks between your bandaged palms—trying to feel the warmth and texture of his skin through the layers of gauze as best you could, searching for any spark of the man you recognized. "Soldat..." you murmured in a hushed, intimate tone, your voice still carrying the slight quiver of emotional exhaustion and lingering fear.

You knew he liked to be addressed when he was there. Bucky’s name was always met with confusion or anger.

He heard his name on your lips and immediately shifted his grip, large hands moving to firmly encircle your waist. His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your hips, the sudden change in contact drawing an involuntary gasp from your lips. He lifted you completely off the floor as though you weighed nothing more than a feather, and carried you across the room before dropping you onto the bed.

You fell with a soft grunt, the impact momentarily knocking the breath from your lungs. The soldier moved with predatory grace, climbing over your prone form the second you landed on the mattress. His metal hand reached out, cool fingers gripping your face gently despite their unyielding nature. His eyes assessed, observed you closely, seeming to catalog every minute reaction that flickered across your features.

"H-Hey, Soldat -" Your voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, much softer and more vulnerable than you had intended. The word hung in the air between you, unfinished and trembling. His flesh hand moved down your body, fingers trailing with purpose until they hooked firmly into the waistband of your pants. He yanked the loungewear down to your ankles in one swift motion, your mind began to race wildly with thoughts tumbling over one another.

What the hell was he doing? This unexpected intimacy felt foreign and unsettling. You had never been intimate with the soldier before—this cold, mechanical version of the man you knew—and it felt fundamentally wrong, like a violation of boundaries you hadn't even realized existed between you.

You knew what happened to him, to an extent, pieced together from fragments of trauma that Bucky had felt comfortable enough to share during his more lucid moments. The torture, the conditioning, the systematic dismantling of his humanity—all of it had left scars far deeper than the ones visible on his flesh. You had never shown any desire towards the soldier for precisely that reason, maintaining a careful emotional distance when he slipped into this alternate persona.

Yet here he was, effectively caging you against your own bed and undressing you as though following some internal protocol. Maybe he was confused about who you were or what situation he found himself in. Maybe he didn't really understand what he was doing at all, operating on some fragment of fractured memory. Maybe this was merely a conditioned response programmed into him after he was forced to tend to a handler's wounds or needs during a mission—a thought that made your stomach twist with a complex mixture of pity and dread.

"Замолчи [Shut up]," He threatened in a low, guttural tone that brooked no argument, the Russian syllables flowing with practiced ease from his lips. The command came right as he peeled your bottom half out of its remaining, lacy fabric, the delicate material offering no resistance against his determined hand.

He leaned down, pressing his face into your neck and smelling you, a deep, deliberate inhale as he closed his eyes and memorized every little bit of your unique scent—the subtle sweetness, the natural warmth, the faint traces of perfume that had faded throughout the day. It grounded him enough not to just fuck you right there, even if his cock was straining desperately within the confines of his jeans, the hardness urging for release against the denim.

His scruff tickled against your sensitive skin, the coarse hairs creating a delicious friction that bade you nearly arch your back in response. His blushed lips pressed firmly against your pulse point as he allowed them to feel how fast your heart was beating beneath the delicate surface, the rhythm increasing with each passing second under his touch.

"Ты нервничаешь [Are you nervous]?" He asked in a hushed tone, his voice barely above a whisper, his warm breath caressing your skin deliciously, though you still didn't understand the foreign words that fell from his lips. He seemed to chuckle at that, a low rumble in his chest that you could feel vibrating against you, knowing full well you didn't know what he was saying. "Silly flower," he rasped as he pulled away just enough to run his lips further down your jugular, tracing an invisible path with his mouth until finding that sweet, vulnerable junction between your neck and shoulder where he lingered.

Your lips parted to speak, but the words died in your throat as his mouth descended upon that sensitive spot and bit down. Your eyes flew wide open, pupils dilating in shock and something else entirely, as you felt his teeth take possession of your tender flesh. His tongue was hot and demanding, swirled languorously around the captured skin, creating maddening patterns while he suckled hard, his strong hands pinning you firmly against the mattress, leaving you at his mercy.

A loud, unrestrained moan escaped from deep within your chest, reverberating through your body as he claimed you with his mark. His teeth pressed deeper, nearly breaking the surface of your neck, before he finally released his hold with a wet, sloppy pop that echoed in the dim room. His possession bloomed across your skin - a mark so dark, so angry, so blatantly territorial that it stood as obvious as sin itself in his hungry gaze.

The freshly marked skin throbbed with your racing pulse, sending waves of sensation throughout your body as it was finally released from his mouth. A pleasant haziness settled over your mind, leaving you momentarily disoriented when he pulled away. Yet his appetite remained far from sated with just a single mark. The soldier’s right hand slid beneath your head, fingers carefully threading through the roots of your hair before tightening their grip and pulling back sharply, exposing the vulnerable column of your neck fully to his attention.

"Don't wilt on me now," he chuckled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble as he nipped his way along the exposed column of your throat. His lips curved into a self-satisfied smirk against your sensitive flesh as he felt your neck move beneath his mouth, bobbing visibly with a thick, nervous swallow that betrayed your anticipation for whatever he was going to do to you next.

He bit down, again and again, making a garden of blossoms emerge across your neck and collarbone, each and every mark darkening to a deep purple as he released the abused skin from his teeth. The sensation was an addicting balance between pleasure and pain, sending waves of it down your spine with every press of his mouth against your sensitive flesh.

"Красивый [Beautiful]," he whispered against your skin, his hot breath fanning across the fresh marks, his tone still as gruff as it was, lower pitched with growing lust that seemed to emanate from his very core.

He leaned back from your panting form, pupils dilated with desire as he was drinking in the sight of you disheveled and helpless underneath him. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, hair mussed and lips swollen from his earlier attentions. The strain in his jeans became too much for him to bear, the fabric stretched taut over his obvious arousal.

The need grew too great and pulled you up suddenly with strong hands gripping your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees in front of him as he grunted down at you with barely contained need. His hands fumbled, fingers trembling slightly in his haste as he was hastily bringing the zipper down and pushing his jeans and underwear far enough for himself to spring free from the confining fabric.

"Open," he commanded, his fingers roughly entangling in your hair as he forcefully pulled you closer to his throbbing member. The swollen head was uncomfortably flushed and engorged, beaded with translucent pearls of anticipation, gradually becoming too heavy to remain perfectly balanced against the tiny slit. The little droplets slowly descended, trickling down the underside of his tip, leaving a shiny, slick trail in their wake. They languidly formed long, delicate strings as gravity beckoned them downward.

You watched as it pulsed once more with urgency, the veins standing prominent against taut skin, silently but forcefully demanding you to do something to satisfy the need.

The soldier snapped a harsh demand at you in a guttural tone, the foreign syllables sharp and commanding in the tense silence between you. Though you didn't quite understand the specific word he uttered, the meaning behind it was crystal clear from his posture, his expression, and the commanding grip still firmly tangled in your hair. It didn't take a genius to know what he wanted.

You shyly opened your mouth and he pulled you closer, fingers tangling back up in your hair as he pushed his thick cock into your mouth without much patience. You instinctively tried to pull back a little, just for some relief, but he held you firm with an unwavering grip that left no room for retreat.

"Нет, оставайся там, где стоишь [No, stay where you are]," He grunted with commanding authority, his voice low and unyielding as he savored the sensation, feeling the pleasant warmth of your tongue against him and the soft tissue of your cheeks enveloping him completely.

His hips snapped quick and brutal against you, establishing an intense and unrelenting rhythm without any sort of gradual build up as he held your head firmly in place. His strong hands were tangled in your hair, gripping you with unwavering control as his pelvis repeatedly collided against your face. The coarse hair at his base created a constant friction against your sensitive skin with each thrust he gave and you could feel the subtle burning sensation beginning to build where he held you down against him.

"Да...да [Yes...yes]," he growled out deeply, his voice rough as he looked down at you struggling to stifle gags around him. Your small sounds echoed in the quiet room as you fought to maintain composure. Your saliva was pooling steadily, bubbling and glistening at the corners of your stretched mouth before trailing down in thin rivulets along your chin as he continued to piston himself.

His touch was significantly more aggressive than what you expected from him, catching you off guard. Bucky had shown a distinct hesitancy when it came to physical intimacy when you had shared intimate moments together in the past, his approach had been consistently tender and thoughtful, always prioritizing your comfort and pleasure above all else.

However, his usual demeanor was gone, you knew that. The gentle lover you knew, replaced by someone whose actions were marked by an almost primal urgency, his movements firm and relentless in their execution.

You choked as he pushed past what you could handle, his soft cockhead brushing against the flesh of your throat and pushing deep into you. Your eyes widened a little, feeling him bulging out your neck as he pushed his entire length inside you. But thankfully, before you panicked or choked too badly, he pulled you off him and gave you a few seconds to breathe again. You gasped, spitting excess precum out of your mouth as your chest heaved with breaths. You felt like your face was a mess, thick saliva coating your chin and lips, the somewhat salty taste of him in the back of your throat.

He pulled you back gradually, allowing you to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation each time. It was subtle, but it proved that part of Bucky had to be in him somewhere. Though initially it had been overwhelming, you found yourself becoming more accustomed to deepthroating him, but the natural reflex to gag remained persistent.

You couldn't help but notice how his deep, primal grunts of pleasure sent waves of desire coursing through your body, making your core pulse and belly grow hot. A small voice in your mind whispered that doing this with the soldier was wrong, but the pull between you was simply too powerful to resist, and you surrendered to him.

And it was worth it when his head fell back, pretty lips opening as his hips snapped once more and he let out a loud, pleasured groan.

His balls twitched and his cock pulsed against your tongue, filling your mouth with multiple ropes of hot cum. You had forgotten the sheer volume he produced each time, the way it filled your mouth almost faster than you could handle. You almost swallowed before he was done, your cheeks pooling with his seed. As he slowly withdrew from your throat, you could feel the warmth pooling heavily against your tongue. His eyes were dark from his pupils being fully dilated, watching you swallow every last drop he had given you.

The soldier watched you recover slowly, his intense gaze never leaving you as your breathing gradually steadied. After his own measured breaths had evened out, he deliberately knelt down before you and reached forward, cupping your blushed cheeks between his calloused hand and metal one.

You caught your breath, looking up at the mostly silent man, studying the diluted emotions that flickered across his guarded features. A deep-seated fear reminded you of the situation - the possibility that he might vanish again, that the real Bucky remained trapped somewhere beneath the cold front of the trained assassin who had been programmed to feel nothing.

But as the thought crossed your mind, he helped you up from your position on the floor and guided you to the bed.

The soldier pulled his pants back on after laying you on the bed, causing your apprehension to grow stronger about him disappearing again. But instead of leaving, he made his way to your bed and settled himself beside you. A deep, resonant grunt escaped him as he drew your form closer to his solid frame, securing you under his metal arm. The titanium was cold against your skin but gradually, the chill of the metal became less noticeable, almost familiar in its constant presence.

You laid with the soldier, your head nestled comfortably against his broad, muscular chest and felt completely safe and secure. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing, along with the aftermath of his brutal face fucking, had nearly lulled you to sleep when you felt the sudden vibration of your phone on the wooden bedside table. With a sigh, your arm stretched out, fingers wrapping around the device as you brought it closer to examine the notification that had interrupted your repose.

The screen illuminated to reveal a message from Steve, and you opened it with heavy-lidded eyes.

'We haven't found him yet, have you heard from him at all? Anything? -Steve Rogers'

'Again with the sign off Steve...' You thought to yourself.

Your fingers had barely hovering over the keyboard when the soldier's swift movement caught you by surprise. He plucked the phone from your grasp and deposited it on the far side of him, well out of your reach. "Нет [No]," he declared firmly but gently, his metal arm returning to its previous position as he drew you back against his chest, tightening his protective hold.

"Ignore it," he murmured softly against your hair, his voice carrying a hint of possessiveness beneath its gentle command. You couldn’t keep the small smile from tugging at your lips as you gave into him and buried yourself into his chest.

“Okay…”

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Image from Pinterest & cropped

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b3ach-bunn7 · 4 months ago

Text

READ YOUR MIND

You're roommate and her boyfriend are incredibly loud, so you decide to spend the night at your hot friend Jason's house.

fluff, college!au, confessions, one bed trope

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It takes about twenty minutes of internal conflict before you find yourself outside Jason’s dorm room.

You feel stupid. It’s not like you haven’t been in Jason’s room before. You guys were friends. He’d slept on your couch after a movie night gone too long, you’d stayed up for hours writing essays together on his bedroom floor. This was nothing weird, nothing new.

But for whatever reason, today it feels different.

It might be the fact that you’re seeing him differently. You’re not sure when, but the line between friend and something else has started to blur. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the strong slope of his jaw, the fact that he was probably strong and muscular enough to throw you over his shoulder. How funny he was, how kind he was. The fact he studied English, how smart he was at it. It’s really no one's fault but his own. You’re surprised you’d lasted this long without crushing on him, anyway. And maybe the way his eyes lingered a little too long on your own. Innocent touches felt like something else, a hand holding your hips as he stepped behind you, a thigh against your own as you sat in impossibly tight lecture halls.

Whatever. There’s no point looking at it like that. You love your friendship with him too much to let a little crush ruin it.

If you were in any other situation, you wouldn’t be here. But it’s late and you know of all your friends Jason’s the most likely to be awake. You don’t want to bother him but you can't spend another night third-wheeling with your roommate and her boyfriend. That, and the fact that it gets particularly loud whenever you come to sleep.

After a deep breath to steel yourself, you knock on the door. It takes only a few seconds before it swings wide open.

And God, you take back everything you just said. Because he's wearing a pair of grey sweats, and an old band shirt that is showing off his delicious arms, and you don’t know if you can blame the fact it’s nearly midnight on the thoughts running through your head. His movements are slow, sleepy, as he blinks at you confused.

He pushes his glasses up his head, tufts of brown hair falling over his face. “Oh. Hey. Is- Are you okay?”

“Oh god, did I wake you?”

“Nah, you’re good.” He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

It takes a second before the words come out of your mouth. “I- Lily. She has- She has her boyfriend round, and I don’t sleep very well when he’s there.” You laugh awkwardly, scratching your arm.

You hold up the books and paper you brought with you. “You mind if I crash here tonight? I bought stuff to keep me busy, so I’ll be out of your hair.”

Jason smiles easily, pushing the door open further. “Of course, yeah.”

You step in, thanking him as he grabs the stuff out of your hand and puts them on his front table. His dorm is so boyish. Him and his roommate, an eccentric boy everybody called Gar, were not the best at interior design. Their couches are dark grey with red pillows, jarring against the white carpet you’d bought them as a housewarming gift. The kitchen was an amalgamation of whatever plates and mugs they’d found at thrift stores, their fridge filled with pictures from Gar’s old polaroid camera. It was cute and very them, and a warm place to sleep that wasn’t accompanied by the sound of your roommate and her boyfriend doing whatever the hell they got up to alone.

“Thanks again. I can’t stand another night with those two.”

Jason snorts a laugh, sitting down on the couch. “It can’t be that bad. They’re nice people.”

“Yeah, sure. But all they do is remind me of how painfully single I am.” You huff, sitting beside him.

He’s close enough that you can smell the expensive cologne he wears. He’s shown you it once, a fancy glass bottle. He’s spritzed it on your wrist and the smell lasted all day. He nods at your words, and you turn your head towards the TV to avoid his gaze.

“That guy you saw last week didn’t work out?”

Your eyebrows furrow. Honestly, the date had been crap, and you’d forgotten about him the second you’d gone home. You’re surprised he remembers. You tell Jason about all of your romantic adventures, hoping it will have some effect on your feelings for him. It hasn't been very successful so far. And while Jason looks disinterested as he asks you, eyes focused on the movie on screen, his leg taps up and down, and he looks a little restless. You think about lying for a split second, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

You scoff. “I haven’t spoken to him since. He was boring. And stupid.”

Jason laughs, his eyes crinkling. “That’s rude!”

“He couldn’t hold one conversation with me! Like, I asked him what his favourite book was and he said Diary of a Wimpy Kid. We are nineteen years old!” You whine, hands covering your face as Jason cackles next to you.

“So that’s all women want. A man who reads?” There's a teasing lilt to his voice and you roll your eyes.

“Well, duh. I am studying English after all. I’d like to be able to hold a conversation with him about what I do.”

“That’s a fair dealbreaker, I'll be honest.” Jason hums, resting his arm on the back of the couch, brushing your back slightly. “Is that all you’re looking for in a man?”

The TV blares quietly in the background. Some random show on the food network where the contestant currently on screen looks like they're about to drop the tiered cake in their hands. His question rings out in the room, and you know you only have a few seconds before your silence is considered awkward. But you can’t help but think his question is so suggestive. Does he want to know why out of innocent curiosity? Or does he want to know out of something else?

“Well. Obviously not.” You finally say, bringing your knees up to your chest. “But English comprehension would be nice.”

Jason snorts a laugh. “That being said. He has to be funny. And tall, at least taller than me. And he needs to be smart. And fit. Like, physically.”

Jason watches you with a small smile on his face, nodding, like he knows you're just trying to describe him in a roundabout way. You laugh, a little nervous under his gaze. You reach across the couch and grab the remote.Your arm brushes against his leg and the contact is fleeting but it makes your skin burn.

“And all these guys at uni, and you haven’t found one who fits?”

His voice is lower when he speaks again, and when you look at him he’s looking at you so intensely. And it’s then you notice that the two of you are sitting quite close on the couch, considering it's one big enough to fit about four people.

“Well. Yes. I- Maybe.”

He just nods again. You take a quick breath in, quickly grabbing your book from the table. “Did you finish the essay for next week?”

Jason groans, leaning his head back on the couch. “Fuck. No. I completely forgot.”

You wave your own essay in the air. “Well. I was gonna ask you to read over mine, but. Nevermind then.” You sigh dramatically.

“Shut up. Lemme read.” He takes it out of your hand, slipping his glasses back on his face. They’re thick rimmed lenses that make him look older than he is and you love them.

You watch him as he reads, fingers playing with his bottom lip as his eyes skim over your work. Some part of you feels the tiniest bit self-conscious, because he is a hundred times smarter than you, but you know he’d never make it feel that way. Jason suddenly looks up and his eyes meet yours. You smile, face heating, as he raises an eyebrow.

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?”

“Shut up.”

You tap the edge of your paper. “Good?”

“Great. Can you write mine too?”

You snort. “You wish.” Jason pouts and drops your paper back on the table.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now I’m hungry.”

You sit up immediately at that. “Yes. Let’s order food.”

Jason looks back at his kitchen. “I shouldn’t. I’ve eaten takeaway every night this week, I think. It’s also,” he quickly glances at his watch, “barely half twelve. What’s even open right now?”

You groan, shaking his shoulder. “Jason, don’t be responsible! I’m here, this is like a sleepover. We need to eat something junk-foody.”

Jason just frowns. You flick the centre of his glasses and he tuts. “Hey.”

“I’ll even pay! It’s on me.” You nod and pull out your phone. You’re opening UberEats before he can protest again.

“See. Burger King is open. We love Burger King!”

“We do?”

“Yes. What do you want?”

“A whopper.”

You spend the next ten minutes deciding and then the next thirty waiting anxiously for your food. The thing with Jason, and probably the reason you like him the most, is that you can talk to him about anything. Tonight, it’s his brother Dick’s birthday party. He leans in to show you the picture on his phone, and you try not to laugh at how unhappy he looks to be photographed.

When the doorbell rings Jason runs to grab the food, before bringing it back to the two of you. It takes another twenty minutes for the two of you to finish eating, old episodes of Friends humming in the background. Sleep circles your limbs and you yawn, sipping on blue slushy that had come with your order. It’s entirely too sweet and stains your tongue blue but you keep drinking it anyway.

“I don’t know. Bruce is always asking me to come over, but. Things are still weird.”

You nod. “Yeah, I get it. But it’s good you’re trying. I-“

You're cut off suddenly by Jason yelling and pointing at your arm. You screech, dropping your slush and shooting off the couch.

“What! Oh my god, what is it?” You yell, hands rubbing at your sleeves.

“You-“ Jason tries to speak but his words are cut off by a laugh. “It was just a little bug.”

“Jason. That is not funny! You freaked me out, look!” You whine, pointing at the now spilt slushy all over your hoodie.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, sorry.”

He gets up and grabs some tissues and you furiously dab at your hoodie. The couch is also now blue, and you frown. “There goes my bed, too. Guess I’m sleeping on your bedroom floor today.”

Jason perks up where he’s blotting the couch. He frowns, thinking for a moment. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, what? Take my bed.”

Your hands drop to your sides. “Well what about you?”

“I’ll take the floor. It’s my fault you split this, anyway.”

“It’s your bed. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor.”

“Well, it’s my dorm so. I think I’ll have the final say, sweetheart.” He teases.

You bite your bottom lip, thinking, and toss the used tissues on the table. “Why don’t we just sleep together?”

The tips of Jason’s ears turn a dark red and he looks a little shell-shocked at your words, before it’s replaced by a smirk. Your face flushes too, and you quickly shake your head.

“I- Not like that, I meant- Stop laughing.” You snap. But the sight of him laughing behind his hand makes you giggle a little too.

“I just mean, like. I don’t mind sleeping in the bed with you. I just- I don’t think there’s any point in one of us sleeping on the floor, if there’s a perfectly good bed that can fit us both, you know?”

You’re well aware that you’re rambling, and the way he tilts his head and smiles at you is not helping. He gives the couch one last wipe and stands.

“Alright. That’s cool with me if it’s cool with you. I can also get you something else to wear.” He gestures at your now blue hoodie and you smile gratefully.

You’ve been in Jason’s room once or twice, to grab something or take a call. But this time it’s different, because you’re looking at his bed and you’re going to be in it in about five minutes. You ignore the band posters plastered on his walls, the messy stacks of books all over his floor. You sit gingerly on the edge of the mattress and wait. He comes in only a moment later. He starts rummaging through his drawers and you just watch. He glances at you over his shoulder and shakes his head, huffing a laugh.

“Stop staring. You’re making me nervous.” He whispers.

“Man up.”

He throws a hoodie at you and you catch it. “You know where the bathroom is.”

You walk into the toilet and quickly get changed. You leave your old hoodie in the hamper. Jason’s one is bigger and smells like him, and you don’t see yourself giving this back anytime soon. You give yourself a quick once over in the mirror, fixing your hair and wiping mascara from under your eyes, before you head back to Jason’s room.

When you come back, Jason’s already in bed, doing something on his phone. You linger in the doorway and he looks up.

“You want a formal invitation?”

You roll your eyes and shuffle your way over. You gingerly lift up the sheets and climb in. You are so painfully aware of how close he is, your shoulders brushing as he puts his phone to the side and lays down properly. The room is silent other than the two of you breathing. Just when you're about to speak, he beats you to it.

“Night.” He whispers.

“Goodnight.”

You’re not crazy, right? This is weird. Maybe if it was Victor’s room. A boy friend who was completely platonic, it wouldn't mean anything. But you’ve felt the tension between you and Jason, the subtle flirting, the lingering touches. You know that whatever is happening between you guys is not just friendship. And you have no idea if it's just you, because Jason is breathing so evenly you think he’s fallen asleep already.

You shuffle a little in the sheets, uncomfortable. They smell like Jason and it’s not helping to calm your thoughts down. You turn around to lay on your side, and when you do, you’re met with a face right in front of you, looking back.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to adjust to the darkness and this close, you can make out the spattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the grey hairs he’s growing at 20 that he always complains about. His eyelashes are so long, and you smile sleepily.

“Hi.”

He smiles too. “Hi.”

“I can’t sleep.” You mumble, eyes fluttering shut. “Those burgers woke me up.”

Silence. You don't get a reply. You open your eyes again and Jason is just staring.

“Is there another bug on my face?” You joke. But he doesn't laugh.

“No. You just look so pretty right now.”

Your mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. Jason looks like he’s telling you the time of day, so casual. He lifts up his hand slightly, and brushes a strand of your hair from out your face.

“I- Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything again. You don’t know what to say. A silence settles over the room again. The two of you just look at each other. And just when you’re about to break it, he sits up so fast it makes you jump.

“Jason, what-”

“I can’t do this, I-”

You eyebrows furrow and you sit up, watching Jason flick on the lamp on his bedside table. The room is enveloped in a soft warm light, and his hair is tousled a little, his shirt wrinkled from how quickly he got up.

“What is going on right now?” “Did you know Gar isn’t home?” He says.

You say yes, because the fact you can’t hear him yelling at COD or something else, and the fcat he didn’t come say hi, is enough clue that he’s not home.

“Right, so. When I made you spill your slushy, which was an accident by the way, I could’ve easily just let you stay in there. He wouldn’t care.”

“Okay.” You say slowly.

“And. I didn’t. Because I knew that you wouldn’t let me sleep on the floor and i wouldn’t either, and then we’d be in this position, and I’d finally get the chance to fucking tell you how i feel.”

“How- How you feel?”

“Yes. And then I pussied out and I just said goodnight, and. And then you looked at me, and, fuck. I can’t take it anymore.”

And then Jason turns to look at you, and he looks so desperate as he grabs your hands, his skin calloused as he tightens his grip.

“I like you. A lot. And, you know, I’d like to think I'm pretty smart, but I know I am horrible when it comes to people, at feelings. So I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say that.”

This is a dream. There’s no way this is real, that the Jason Todd, biceps and all, is confessing to you on his bed. You want to pinch yourself because the way his thumb is rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand is making your heart squeeze in your chest.

You watch those pretty brown eyes furrow slightly at your silence.

“I- If you don’t feel the same way, I-”

You don’t think before you reach forward, palms grabbing his jaw and pulling him forward so you can press a kiss to his lips. And he barely waits a second before his eyes flutter closed, hands tangling in your hair to pull you impossibly closer. Your arms slide down to curve around his neck and you toy with the hair on the nape of his neck, and he groans. You finally let go and he leans his forehead on yours, kissing your nose, your cheek.

“I like you too, by the way. If the kiss wasn’t tell enough.”

He grins, boyish and handsome, and you want to kiss him again.

He sighs happily, hands slipping up the edge of his hoodie, eyes waiting for your nod of approval. When he gets it, he smiles again, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“God, thank fuck for Lily and her boyfriend

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nia try not to write a college au mission impossible... I LOVEE JASON TODD! In my head any alternate universe hes not emo so i write him nice and cute.

thanks to all who voted in the poll! im gonna make my way through all the guys on that list so look out for it! next up will be shinsou because of a very nice commenter ;P i hope u all enjoy this, leave any fic ideas in my ask box!

#fluff #oneshot #b3ach bunn7 #jason todd oneshot #jason todd x reader #jason todd #batfam #dc comics #dc universe #batman #jason todd x y/n #jason todd red hood #jason todd reader #red hood x reader #red hood

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babeyun · 7 days ago

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losing the war 🥀 p.js [m]

synopsis: even when the world seems bleak, he can't help but try and prove that love still exists. the love you yearn for exists, because he is full of it - and so are you. genre: regency au ; "forbidden" love au ; angst, fluff, smut. pairing: royal guard!park jongseong x princess!reader word count: 15k (and i'm not sorry about it!!) rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: mentions of: death (non-descriptive), blood/injuries, war, illnesses. swearing, mentions of food/eating. mentions of trauma/grieving. reader and jay are so in love it's disgusting LOL. smut warnings: mentions of pregnancy, making out, brief grinding. virginity loss (both). oral (f.rec), fingering (f.rec), slight nipple play, brief handjob. biting, hair pulling, slight body worship (f.rec), unprotected sex in missionary because i said so, creampie (because they're stupid.) petnames (baby, my heart/love, etc.) what to listen to: yours - conan gray ; always - bon jovi ; salut d'amour - edward elgar ; heaven's cloud - seventeen ; step to my girl - souls of mischief ; do i wanna know - hozier. author's note: [misc dividers] by @/saradika here on tumblr! well, we're back with the 6th installment of enhypen birthday fics! granted, this one is by far the longest and the latest, as it is now officially two days after jay's birthday :( i'm sorry! it normally wouldn't take me this long, but things happened and also it was easter sunday so...it's fine! as always...happiest birthday to my jaybie. i love u!

PARK JONGSEONG HAD ALWAYS BEEN RESPONSIBLE.

Poised, smart, calculated. Direct with his words, never saying more than necessary to get his point across. He operated quietly and discreetly, mostly in the shadows so as to keep you safe.

Your mother ran the Decelis Kingdom like the Navy. Everything and everyone had a place, and she expected them all to be there when she strolled the halls at night. Never once did she walk past your room and not see him posted outside the door, alert and ready to protect the princess at all costs.

He doesn't care that you're a princess, or the princess, really. To him, it's supposed to be a job. A person to protect, to feed, to take care of until you're moving onto the next big thing.

What is the next big thing for you?

Neither of you really know. It's like a winding rollercoaster ride, and your fate is the cruel operator that never lets either of you get off.

He's never at rest when he's with you. He sleeps when he can, but never lets his fatigue show in front of your mother and his fellow guards. He never lets his shoulders sag, he never lets his eyes get low as he follows behind you to wherever you're going.

He finds it hard to remind himself that it's just a job when you softly christen him with the petname my heart.

He finds it hard to remind himself that it's just a job when you pull him into the library, and sit on the thickly carpeted floor. You always make him sit with his back to the wall, your dress brushing his thighs as your hands splayed gingerly across worn leather books and yellowed pages. He finds it hard to remind himself it's just a job, when you whisper that he can sleep, and you'll wake him if you hear your mother. He finds it hard to remind himself that you're just part of his job when he wakes up to your warm hand gently patting his cheek, finding he's fallen asleep and resting his head on your shoulder. You always smile warmly as he opens his eyes tiredly, your laugh is soft as you ask him if he's feeling well rested.

The answer is always no, but he never says it.

You're the kindest person he's ever had the pleasure of meeting. You're not soft spoken by any means – always assertive, always dominating the conversation when it comes to anything that has to do with your kingdom. You're flirty, even if you don't realize that your words mean more than meets the eye. You're generous, smart, beautiful…you're…everything.

You're everything to him.

And he knows better than to ever let that be a thought at the forefront of his mind, even when you give yourself to him so willingly. Even when your lips trace the slope of his neck, when your moans fill his ears and make him feel insane.

Even when you make him feel loved.

Amongst the positive attributes you have, you have a few bad habits in the eyes of your mother. The Queen has no problem with reprimanding you – her hand often carrying a wooden ruler that pats your chin gently when you speak out of turn, lightly tapping the small of your back if you're slouching. Just as the Queen is strict, she is gentle, she is fair.

The Queen was once bright. She wore the brightest, most colorful of dresses – pearlescent satins, shimmering tulles, beaded and sequined. She was the prettiest flower in the garden, the warmth of her smile being felt for miles throughout the kingdom. She was the sole collector of all the books in your library, the seamstress of all your dresses, the sole ruler because the kingdom was only ever truly hers – and soon, yours.

Of course, all good things come to an end.

He grew up just outside of the kingdom, his family settled in a soft cottage in the thriving forest surrounding the castle. During his younger years, he awoke every morning to the sound of horses trotting past, the sound of your mother's skilled hunters chasing after deers and elk. He and his father would often go foraging, bringing home their own catches – rabbits, salmon speared at the flowing river. Every once in a while, they managed to pelt the unsuspecting deer, his heart always sinking in his chest as he watched their eyes lose their light.

He became a skilled hunter despite the sinking feeling, and easily manuevered his way through the forest on foot. His father made a bow and arrow set for him on his fifteenth birthday, and it'd been put to use for many years since – birds, squirrels, even the occasional frog.

His mother was an apothecary that managed a small shop and garden out of the back of their cottage. She sold the wild berries and any herbs Jay and his father managed to forage, and that was how he met your parents. Your father was incredibly ill, draped across a mighty steed that your mother steered to the best of her ability in her state of distress.

As it turned out, your mother had grown up with his – and trusted no one more than her to help your father. They stayed in his cottage, in his bedroom, for three days and three nights.

After he recovered, your mother tried to pay a hefty sum of gold. His parents adamantly refused, and through the door of his bedroom he heard his mother ask that the Queen take care of him, should he ever need something. A job, education, something.

And your father agreed, without hesitation.

But there was still a heavy sack of gold sitting in the corner of his home when he woke up the next morning.

When he thinks about it, the King was an insane visual compared to your mother. He dressed in nothing but black, his shoulders covered by a thick bear's pelt and feet clad in heavy boots. His knuckles were almost always smeared with dirt and blood, and his voice was gruff and intimidating to the unfamiliar. He was scary to most of the townspeople with his dark eyes and solemn face, and they cowered in his presence – but he never, ever scared him.

Your father admired that.

The King became a frequent visitor at the shop Jay's mother ran. He bought berries almost exclusively, and usually the entire stockpile. Jay remembers his life being slightly easier during those times – and he felt it in the way his parents wouldn't hesitate to buy any book he picked up during their visits to the market on the weekends. He felt it most when he'd have warm soups to eat during the winter when berries and herbs were scarce.

However, the King once arrived on foot, guiding his horse by the lead and talking gently. Usually he'd be atop his horse, but instead – you were sat upon it. You wore a simple, champagne dress with ivory bows along the belled sleeves, and your hair was worn pinned back. You were smiling brightly, your eyes wide as you took in the greens of the forest and the spots of the sunlight on the forest floor, the chirps of the birds gathered in trees high above.

Your eyes landed on him, covered in dirt and carrying a deer on his back. He remembers the way his heart lurched – and he nearly fell under the weight of the cervid. And he remembers the laugh that slipped from your mouth as your father stopped in front of the shop. It was so beautiful, hidden behind your hand and so melodic.

"Jongseong! Good to see you, son. Is your mother in?"

He couldn't reply then, watching the way your lips shaped around your silent repetition of his name. He remembers blinking, clearing his throat.

"Your Majesty. My mother is at the market this weekend, I've been left to tend the shop. Is there something I can get for you?" He'd dropped the deer on the workbench with a grunt before turning around to tend to your father, only hearing your voice as you pulled at your father's pelt.

"He's cute."

He felt his cheeks grow hot, his eyes darting away as he stood behind the display of berries and pretended he didn't hear you. He remembers the way your father rolled his eyes, a smile gracing his features. He'd never seen your father smile.

"Go on, pick your poison." He'd helped you off the horse, your hands folding behind your back as you approached the display. Jay couldn't help but follow the glow of your dress in the spotty sunlight, before your father cleared his throat behind you.

"It's her birthday." He said warmly, and Jay remembers the way you rolled your eyes as you picked a blackberry from the display, rolling it between your fingers.

"It's not that special. He always makes it a big deal." Your gaze was playful, but your words were serious. "It's really just another day."

"Isn't every day we rise with the sun worth celebrating?"

You stopped then, your teeth sinking into the delicate flesh of the berry in your hand as you glanced up at him. Your father laughed heartily behind you, before you tilted your head.

"Will you be coming to the feast tonight? My father has invited the whole of the kingdom."

Your eyes were expectant, and he shifted slightly under your gaze. Your father had the same eyes, albeit darker.

"I can't make it, Your Highness. I've got prior committments." He had jerked his thumb in the direction of the deer, making you nod. "That's a shame…I'll take these, then." You sounded disappointed then, as you picked up the large crate of blackberries. Your father swept to your aid, grabbing the wooden crate quickly and firmly attaching it to the side of the horse's saddle. You smiled softly, "How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. Have a safe trip back, have a nice birthday." He shook his head, giving you both a curt bow before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shop. He heard the horse trot off moments later, murmurs shared from you and your father too muffled to digest.

However, even as nightfall came and went – he couldn't get you out of his mind. The gentle slope of your neck, the shimmer of thin beeswax on your lips. A small, gold locket resting on your chest over your dress, with the crest of the kingdom engraved into it.

The softness of your eyes. You returned the next day, this time, only accompanied by your horse. You donned a dark green dress with gold flecks across the fabric, your hair in disarray around your face as you slowed to a stop in front of the shop. He was drenched in sweat, the midday heat exhausting as he lugged firewood towards the cottage. His mother had just arrived for lunch, wrapping an apron around her waist as you rung the bell in the window.

"Princess! What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

His back tensed as he packed the wood in the corner of the kitchen, only to hear his name slip from your lips.

"I've just brought something for…Jongseong." He still remembers his mother's face of surprise when she called for him, his cheeks flushed from the heat (or so he tried to convince himself) as he made his way over. "Yes?" "The princess is here for you, son."

She slipped away then, leaving you in his presence alone. He tilted his head, before realizing you had a box in your hand, wrapped in a soft green bow. You held it out to him, a smile gracing your lips.

"For you. I made it." He took it gingerly, "Thank you."

You only nodded, stepping away from the shop. "Enjoy."

He didn't explain anything to his parents as he slid the small box on the kitchen table, their eyes curious as he unwrapped it to the sound of your horse bolting in the distance. It was a tart – lemon curd with blackberry preserve swirled throughout in a shortbread crust. There was a note attached to the side of the box, but he shoved it in his pocket to read in the privacy of his room later that night.

My father seems to like you. He doesn't like anyone. Should I expect you at the suitors' ball this winter? – Y/N ♡

He didn't see you again after that, the seasons moving forth as if he'd never met you.

The suitors' ball would not happen, either.

He was soon awoken by royal knights banging his door down – on orders from the Queen to gather all able-bodied young men to fight in an ambush in the wooded mountains, brought forth by Fort Allingham claiming a broken alliance with the King. Despite his mother's protests, he went – wide eyed and scared, but he trusted himself. He trusted his knowledge of the woods and his skills as a hunter would get him through it.

They say even the mighty fall.

He felt dirty; covered in splatters of blood of men he'd never met. Men who had families, surely, and it haunted him. He wanted to close his eyes and end the nightmare of it all – fallen bodies, the crimson brew of life seeping through clothes and into patches of grass sprouting through the thick layers of snow atop the mountains, the feeling of the arrow's pile that speared through his shoulder. He wanted to hide, to cower, to unsee all he'd lived the moment he left the cottage. The worst of it all?

He was the one to find your father – bloodied and bruised at the base of the mountains, his sword tossed into the flowing river and his fingers nearly purple with frostbite. The remaining soldiers gathered with him, word spreading to those from Fort Allingham that the target had been hit. It made his stomach turn.

He tried what he could – the warmth of a fire, muddling medicinal herbs into a paste…but he slipped away by morning. He could only picture you and your mother's faces as he and the remaining soldiers walked for three days to return to the limits of the kingdom. He held nothing on his back but your father's pelt, the bloodied sword and his bow. He carried it like it held all the weight in the world to him, because he knew it would to you.

He remembers the crestfallen look on your mother's face as he and the soldiers hobbled into the throne room. They all knelt before her, the pain in his face evident as he tried to hold the bloodied sword over his head.

That was the last time he saw your mother wear something bright. A cream dress that glittered in the early winter sunlight, a singular tear stain on the skirt.

The soldiers had their injuries treated by town apothecaries and fed by the palace cooks while the townspeople were in mourning. The death of the King took a toll on them all – and a flourish of stories of his kindness spilled from every crevice of the kingdom. Your father was well loved and your mother proved it – a three-day feast was thrown in his honor, all of his favorite dishes displayed across the palace courtyard. Nights of loud music, drinking and dancing.

Nights that you spent away from it all, deep in the forest. Wading in the river, your hands blistered from climbing the rocks that lined the streams. Your face swollen from crying, your back covered in the thick pelt that once belonged to your father.

It was all you had left. Your mother asked him to work for the kingdom soon after. She practically begged, in fact – and Jay went home to think about it. He spent the rest of the winter there – coping with the loss, with the fear, with his pain. He took the time to relearn to use his bow with his injured shoulder, he shoveled snow from the pathway to the cottage. He spent his nights in the warmth of his room, reading and reading the books he'd collected, and sitting on the decision of whether or not to go forth to the palace.

Until the winter solstice brought the Queen barreling back to his cottage, seeking his mother and her medicine once more. This time, for you – your skin was sweltering even as you were stripped to nothing in a warm bath, your lips chapped from the dry winter air. His room was once more taken, with your mother glued to his windowsill and staring at the falling snow. The sound of your pained groans made his chest hurt as he pressed cool compresses to your face and neck through the night – waking up to your mother gone and a sore neck from sleeping in a cot.

You stayed for two days longer, his mother carefully and quietly tending to you. She fed you warm soups with lots of garlic and ginger, hot feverfew tea with honey and lemon, even drawing you hot baths to soak in. She had Jay rub analgesic oil into your scalp after your baths, and the repeated stroking would ease you to sleep.

It was on the third day that your mother returned, her hands gripping a dark blue dress in hopes you'd be feeling better. You were still stricken with fatigue, but you managed to make your way out of the cottage with a weakened thank you. Your mother once more asked Jay about coming to work for her at the palace as she helped you climb onto the horse, your cloak just thick enough that the winter air didn't make you shiver too much.

And, he agreed. Without hesitation, without much thought – he told your mother he'd report to the palace in one week.

Dinner with his parents was very quiet that night, with only a murmured apology from him as he cleared the table. His mother insisted he had to do what he felt was right, that his duty was to his heart.

But where has his heart led him? It's gotten him an injured shoulder. It's shown him death, up close and personal. It's shown him how deeply a person can mourn, how thoroughly the end of life can rip someone to shreds.

Nevertheless, he packed his clothes and his favorite books, and he went. He was stationed in the room next to yours, the constant warmth and hearty food a luxury he yearned for his parents to experience. He didn't check in with you, instead finding your mother in her study – in a long, black dress.

He then learned that you were his assignment.

"The loss of her father has left Y/N incredibly fragile." The Queen started, her pen gripped tightly in her trembling hand. "She's not the same, which was to be expected. She feels it's her fault."

The Queen went on to explain why – you'd told your parents that you weren't one with the idea of an arranged marriage.

Your father had been the first born son of the King of Fort Allingham – and it was only by chance that the Queen had fallen in love with him. They'd met at the suitors' ball many some years ago when it was your mother's turn to inherit the throne – and had become immediately enamored. It worked well in your grandparents' favor, as they had long been in bad standings with the opposing kingdom over unclaimed land.

The marriage between your parents meant a truce, that said unclaimed land would remain untouched.

Desrosiers, named aptly after the rose gardens that spread vast and wide across their land – was another kingdom just south of Decelis that also had ties to the same plot of unclaimed land. The truce there?

You'd marry their first born son. It'd been set in stone by your grandparents, and was something your parents had been looking for a way out of since before you'd even known about it.

However, the marriage between your parents was untraditional – the Decelis throne belonged to your mother, and as the only heir, there wasn't any way she'd give it up. Your father moving across kingdom lines raised some concerns, but at the end of the day – it was marriage, and it meant peace.

Your father's youngest brother became the King of Fort Allingham shortly after your father's departure. However, he was never fond of the fact that your father left. Something about betrayal, something about treason – but over all, your father had something that he wanted.

Your mother's love.

He, too, had been at the suitors' ball that winter so many years ago. He too, yearned to dance with your mother in the low light of the ballroom, to earn her affections, to be hers.

They say greed is the root of all evil – if he couldn't have your mother, no one could. He didn't care about the land, it was truly only a bonus.

It had been discovered a few weeks after your father's death that he, too, had been killed in the ambush. By none other than the first born son of Desrosiers – and with no heir to the throne of Fort Allingham, the Queen of Fort Allingham took over and cut ties with both kingdoms. The land was up for grabs, and your mother traveled to Desrosiers when you were sick to settle things.

The Prince of Desrosiers had no interest in marriage, and willingly gave up the idea of a truce with your kingdom if it meant he got the land. No devil in the details, no exceptions, no ifs, ands or buts.

"She told me that she feels that though she may have won the battle…" The Queen hesitated, clearing her throat as tears filled her eyes. She blinked them back, tonguing her cheek. "We've lost the war." Jay finished for her, and she nodded. "It's not her fault. She has to know that, deep down somewhere."

"I don't know anymore. I know it's a lot to ask, too. She needs to be waited on hand and foot, and I can't lose my composure. I have a kingdom to run." The Queen had gestured to the air around her, making him nod in understanding.

"All I ask is that you…nuture her. Keep her company, get her outside. Show her that love still exists, even if the world seems bleak. It's not her fault. It never will be."

"I will try my best, Your Majesty." And, that led him to this point. By your side, at all hours of the day.

It'd been two years since then, and you'd seemingly progressed – you drifted through the gardens, you settled on the carpet in the massive library. You visited his parents with him, and they treated you like their own. He taught you how to hunt and forage, and often caught you lingering at the end of the riverbend. Your feet in the water, your hands clutching your dress high so as to not get it wet. You closed your eyes, taking in the soft song of the birds flying through the trees and the chitter of the squirrels.

And he couldn't hear you cry yourself to sleep through the door anymore.

Instead, he was subjected to your soft looks and subtle comments. You'd sweep his hair out of his eyes, you'd adjust the hood of his cloak. You'd lean into him a little too deeply when he helped you fix your posture while shooting arrows. You'd bake him things, read him things, even ask him to sit outside with you deep in the night to stare at the stars. You'd point out the brightest one, and say it was your dad.

He hated the way his heart warmed up to you. You'd always been something interesting – from the very moment he met you that fated day at the shop. He wondered, still, if you would have chosen him if the suitors' ball had happened, and if your father would've given him his blessing.

He wonders if you feel the same things he does when he bids you goodnight – the yearn to kiss your lips softly, to lay next to you and hold you close. To breathe you in, become one with your soul and feel the fire of a million bursting suns.

He wondered then if you wanted him, too.

He wouldn't have to wonder for long.

"PRINCESS, IT'S LATE. YOU SHOULD BE SLEEPING."

Jay's voice was stern as you tugged him out of bed, still awake as the clock struck two in the morning. The moonlight was seeping through his open window, and you only pouted as you stomped your foot. He sighs, setting his book down on the nightstand to give you his full attention.

"First of all, I told you to stop calling me that. I'm Y/N to you. Or, baby." You climb onto the end of his bed with a wink, and Jay only groans, falling back against his pillow and grabbing the other to hold over his face. "Second of all, come on! I haven't seen you all day!" Jay gives another grunt into the pillow as you jump up and down the empty side of the bed, before throwing it back. "Because I went to go see my parents, and you didn't wanna come!"

You stop jumping, a sly smirk sliding onto your lips as he sits up abruptly.

"Don't you dare. Someone could hear you." He points a menacing finger at you, but you only laugh as you sink onto the soft bed. "Y/N." "Ooh, I like it when you say my name like that. So scary." You're teasing him, knowing it'll get him to do whatever it is you want without a fight as long as it means you'll get the hell out and shut the fuck up. Granted, he always wants to do what you ask of him, he just likes the little game of cat and mouse.

"What do you want? Quickly, I'm tired." He runs his hand over his face, before carding his fingers through his hair and pushing it off his face. He doesn't like the way you nibble on your lip before you look over at the door, his cheeks growing hot as you scamper off his bed to lock the iron knob. He raises a brow, attempting to appear nonchalant as you also close his window.

"It gets hot in here, why would you do that?" He feigns interest in your actions as you walk back over, rolling your eyes as you climb back onto his bed. You push the covers down, sliding in next to him. He instinctively moves over, the sheets cold beneath him as you snuggle into the warmth he's left behind.

"Spies." You shrug, fighting a smile as you lay your head on his pillow. He tongues his cheek as your hand traces shapes into his arm, before inching closer to rest your chin on it. You peer at him with the most charming look known to man, and he feels his resolve breaking.

"Y/N." "Jongseong." He sighs, before extending his arm out. You smile giddily as you snuggle into his side, your fingers ghosting over his bare chest. He wraps his own around your shoulders, gently poking your ribcage and getting a squeal out of you.

"You're horrible for my health, you know?" He murmurs, before feeling you smile against his skin. "I missed you, Jjongie." You admit, your fingernails drawing featherlight patterns into his stomach. He allows it, but you know his senses are on high alert should your mother make a surprise nightly round and not find you in your bedroom.

"I missed you, baby. But you know we can't keep doing this." He laments, feeling his heart sink as he feels you pout, your breath warm against his chest before you nod.

"Is it love at all, if in the dark?" You ask, before looking up at him.

He nods slowly, "I think so. I don't think I'd ever want to exist in a world where you're not all I am."

He swipes your hair back, before softly pinching your cheek between his knuckles. You scowl, shoving it away with your own hand, but he interlaces your fingers. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the warm skin before holding your hand to his chest. "Don't do that." You mumble, your eyes softened as you pull your hand away reluctantly. He knows what you mean – don't kiss you. Don't kiss you if he's not going to kiss you everywhere, if he's not going to remind you that there will never be someone who loves you as he does. Even if hidden, even if both of you are so full of adrenaline any time you're under the covers together, you know it – the love Jay holds in his heart is uninhibited, it's unmatched, it's irrevocable.

And it's all yours, all for you.

"Mmh." He presses another to your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks.

"Jay. Stop." You huff, your skin growing hot under his lips as he plants a kiss on your nose. "But I've missed you." He whispers against your lips, "I've missed my pretty girl."

"Jay." You pull back, only for him to trail his lips down your neck softly. "This is not what I was looking to do tonight." "Are you complaining?" He nips at your clavicle, and you laugh softly as you shake your head. "No." You move back, your nose bumping his as he meets your eyes. "I love you." "I love you." He mumbles back, before you press your lips to his chastely. Once, twice, three times. "What did you do today?" "Mmh, wonderful question from thee Park Jongseong." You cradle his face in your palm, absently stroking his cheek with your thumb. "I had lunch in the gardens with my mother. The Queen expects much of my attention, you see. I'm a very busy woman." He snorts, "So busy." You grin, "Incredibly. I wasted away today, however, because the love of me wasn't here. I spent my hours locked away in the library like a princess held captive, reading books of lovers who never abandon their soulmate–" "You are so dramatic." He buries his face in your neck, sinking his teeth into the muscle of your shoulder as you yelp. "Be quiet, someone could hear you." "As if you're not sinking your teeth into me like I'm some piece of meat." You scoff, pushing his head away to reveal blushing cheeks. "And I'm not dramatic, you abandoned me." "I 'abandoned' you on my given day off, and I invited you! You wanted to lounge in bed all day." He protests as you tug at strands of his jet black hair, "You just want me when it's beneficial, I know you." "Not true, I want you all the time." You snort, before swinging your leg over his hip and pull him closer. You press a kiss to his lips, "I need you all the time." "Need me, huh?" "Now who's being dirty?" He only laughs, his hand sliding high on your thigh as he pulls you impossibly closer. He slots his lips with yours, feeling you melt into his touch carefully. He can taste mint and chamomile on your tongue as you slip it into his mouth, a soft whine from your throat as sucks on it gently. "I missed you." He breathes against your lips as he moves to hover over you, but you don't get a chance to respond as he settles himself between your thighs, your dress riding high on your hips as your lips meld with his. It's slightly desperate, like he hadn't kissed you in years – but still so full of love, of adoration, of yearning.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, earning a groan from his lips as he pulls your hands away from him, pinning them above your head with one of his own. He kisses down your jaw chastely, before his teeth tug at your earlobe.

"Behave." "Do the tongue thing." You pant out, feeling his teeth graze the skin of your neck again as he laughs. "Please, please–" "You don't have to beg." He soothes, his free hand moving to the underside of your thigh. You lamely clench around nothing as he keeps kissing your neck, down your chest before you feel his teeth pull at the buttons of your nightgown. "Jay." "So impatient, princess." You huff, opening your mouth to argue when his cool fingers ghost over your bare slit. A squeak leaves your throat, making him laugh as you try and buck your hips into his hand. He pulls it away, tugging at the fabric of your nightgown.

"Wanna see you, pretty. Can we take this off?"

You nod eagerly, sitting up quickly to pull it over your head. He shoves his pants down his legs, and tosses both items to the other side of the bed before pushing you onto your back, pressing a kiss to your lips. You jerk slightly as you feel the weight of his cock against your hip, your mouth watering slightly at the idea of it stretching you out.

It hadn't, yet. Ever, actually.

"I love you." "I love you, Jjongie."

He smiles, your cheeks growing hot as you feel his lips trail further. His hands are soft against your skin, gently rubbing your hips and sides. He trails up your breast, his tongue darting out from between his lips to flick against your nipple. Your hand immediately flies to his hair, tangling in the dark locks as he does it again.

"Feel good?" You can't respond, feeling almost embarrassed at how worked up you've gotten over almost nothing but kissing.

But it's not just kissing, is it?

It's missing him, wanting him. Hating the feeling of knowing this could be a secret for the rest of your life. You know he knows that's where your mind goes as he continues, because he thinks the same thing. It always floats back to you when you're bare in front of each other, baring more than just your bodies. Your hearts, souls. Everything you yearn to hold in your hands, and know you do – but only behind closed doors.

He's on the other side now, the slight scrape of his teeth on your pebbled nipple pulling you back to the moment and drawing a breathy sigh from your throat. Your free hand covers your mouth, before feeling him suck the sensitive bud between his lips. He rolls his tongue against it, earning shaky, bitten-back breaths and your grip tightening in his hair.

"J-Jay–" "Mmh?"

He trails down your body, peppering kisses on your soft belly with carefully timed nips of his teeth.

"So beautiful, my love."

He murmurs against your hip before he presses a chaste kiss to it. He always did it, for whatever reason, before his hands splayed on the underside of your thighs and pushed them up. You feel his lips trail the inside of your thigh, feeling his teeth sink into the plush flesh and ripping a moan from your throat. He laps his tongue against the marks of his teeth, before he really pushes your thighs up and away – and you feel a bit of shyness settle in your belly as he sighs.

"Fuck, baby." He leans in, making you jolt as his nose bumps your clit. He wraps his arms around your thighs, inhaling deeply before flattening his tongue against your pussy. You bite back your groan, your eyes rolling back as he laps at your wet cunt like he can't get enough. He's savoring you, and you feel your breath get caught in your throat as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. He lets you rock your hips into his face, his own slowly humping against the mattress at the sheer taste of you. Your pants of yes, yes, oh my God bounce off his ears before he slides his hand down, tracing your hole with a finger. He draws gentle circles into your clit with his tongue as he eases it inside you, and you feel embarrassed at the wet sound that you hear as he carefully works in another.

This is the fullest you'd ever been, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he makes a mess of you on his tongue. He curls them slightly, your thighs threatening to close around his head as you feel your belly fill with warmth. Your moans are slightly breathier as he pushes his fingers in and out of you, your vision spotty as he curls them perfectly into that spongy spot inside you.

"Jjongie." You whine loudly, your free hand moving to your chest. Your fingers trace over your nipple, still slick with his spit; your body writhing against his tongue and fingers with the added sensation. He hums into you, and you feel your body tense against his face, a choked whimper sliding out of you as your orgasm washes over you.

You feel his fingers slip out of you, the wetness being smeared on your thigh as he buries his tongue inside your sloppy hole. You can feel him moan into you, your senses in overdrive as he cleans you up, his lips placing a teasing kiss on your thigh before hovering over you. He presses a soft kiss to your mouth, your hand moving to the base of his neck to keep him in place as you slide your tongue into his mouth. You both groan as the taste of yourself fills your mouth, tart and heady in the back of your throat as you feel him press against your thigh unconsciously.

"Baby…want you." "You have me, sweetheart." You shake your head, your hand snaking between the two of you to touch him. His eyes flutter shut as your hand wraps around his cock, the tip dribbling with a bit of precum that you spread with your thumb. He lets out a shaky breath, rocking his hips into your hand when he hears you speak again.

"Want you inside me. Wanna feel you." You mumble against him, squeezing your hand around his tip. He groans, bucking into the sensation involuntarily.

The idea of going all the way had been on the tips of your tongues for months, since you started this, really. It was a flame neither of you dared to touch, but the desire for it only grew the more either of you denied it. You resorted to kissing, touching…his tongue between your thighs any time you had a handful of minutes. You only got to return the favor with your mouth if your mother was out of the palace the next day – which, unfortunately for the two of you, wasn't very often.

"You know why we can't." "I don't care, I want you."

Your eyes are wide and wet as you work him in your hand, feeling him shudder above you as you brush your lips against his cheek.

"Please. Please, my heart."

He sighs shakily, his eyes squeezing shut as you slow the pace of your hand.

"You'll tell me if I'm hurting you, right?" His forehead is rested on your shoulder, pushing your hand away from him. You nod quickly as he physically wipes your hand against the sheets before folding his fingers into it, and sighing. "And this doesn't…change anything, right? You still…" He trails off, and you press a kiss to his shoulder. "I love you, no matter what happens."

He nods against your skin, "Okay."

He steadies himself above you, letting go of your hand to spread your thighs gently. He breathes out, one of his hands moving to align the tip of his cock with your entrance, but you're still so wet from the first round that he slides between the folds. His tip kisses your clit, making your stomach cave in in a breath. Your hand claws at the sheets, gripping them tightly as he mumbles a dazed apology.

His brows are furrowed slightly as he does it again, watching the way you shudder at the feeling. He files it to the back of his mind, before lining himself up carefully. "Are you sure? We can stop any time. We can stop right now." He licks his lips nervously, but you shake your head. "Please, I'm ready. I want you, all of you."

He pushes forward carefully, his eyes fixed on your face. You smile softly at him, your hand reaching for his. He takes it gently, interlacing your fingers as he sinks in deeper. Your nose scrunches slightly, and he stops. You swallow slightly, squeezing his hand with a nod of your head. He moves a bit more, a soft whimper from your throat making him stop again when you shake your head, squeezing his hand again to signal that you're okay.

He sinks into you the rest of the way, trying not to close his eyes at the warmth of your gummy walls surrounding him. You let out a breath through your mouth, his hand on your thigh moving to trace circles into your clit. The way you clench around him nearly makes him fall forward, but the scrunch in your brows starts to dissipate the more he does it; before you move his hand, away. "Move, Jjongie." You whisper, before feeling him move to hover over you once more. His lips brush against yours gently, your hands cradling his face to kiss him. He uses the moment to pull out slightly, before pushing back in. You grimace, feeling his hand slide to your hip, squeezing as he kisses you again. He moves, trying to hold a groan back as you squeeze around his cock.

"Jay…" Your voice is breathy against his lips, and he sighs shakily before thrusting into you again carefully. You moan in his ear, feeling his head fall against your shoulder as your hands move to his back. You feel him mutter soft curses into your skin, whimpers filling your ears.

"I love you." You whisper as he peppers kisses along your skin, feeling your eyes water as you hear him say those precious words back. "I love you, my heart."

He feels so good, filling you to the brim with shallow thrusts that are somehow angeled perfectly to hit that spot inside you. Your legs wrap around his hips as a tear slides down your face, locking your ankles as the sound of your pussy swallowing him fills the room.

When you feel a wet drop on your neck, a muffled fuck in your ear as he thrusts particularly hard, knocking the wind out of you.

"Shit, I'm s–"

You silence him with your lips smashing into his, the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls so overwhelming that you feel dizzy. His movements grow slightly sloppy as your pussy flutters around him – the same familiar feeling in your lower belly growing as your nails dig into his back as he pulls away from your face and buries his nose in your neck. "Say you're mine." His voice is breathy, making you shiver as you nod eagerly, your voice nothing but a whine as you mouth at the small scar on his shoulder.

"Yours. Only yours." Your thighs tighten around his hips as you cum around him, a groan from his throat filling your ears as he spills inside you. He kisses the side of your neck tiredly, the shallow thrusting of his hips slowing to a stop as he carefully pushes off you.

Your pants fill the room, eyes fluttering closed as his hands knead the soft flesh of your thighs. "Are you okay?" He murmurs, hands moving to squeeze at your hips and sides. You nod lazily, humming in his direction as if asking the same. He nods in response, planting a soft kiss to your lips before carefully pulling out. You wince at the sudden emptiness, running a hand through your hair as you look to see he's slipped off the bed, rustling around his dresser. He returns with a towel, pressing a kiss to your knee before gently wiping you clean.

"You are absolutely terrible for my health, princess." He mutters, earning a scoff from you as you nudge his hip with your foot. He snickers, giving your side a soft pinch and making you squeal before swatting his hand away. "You love me, Park Jongseong." You retort as he smiles, tossing the dirty towel to the hamper. He nods, nuzzling his nose against yours as you pout. "Tell me you love me." "I do love you, angel. You know that." He gives you a pointed look as he lays next to you, before kissing your lips softly. "I will love you, until the end of my days. Don't pretend like you don't know I'd give my life for you." You huff as he pulls the blanket over you, his han on your back pulling you close. You allow it, swinging your leg over his hip and resting your head on his bicep. He presses a kiss to your hairline, your own lips peppering over his collarbone.

"What happens tomorrow?"

Your voice breaks the silence, and he sighs. He knows tomorrow starts a long week of festivities, ended by a Saturday morning gathering of the entire kingdom – for you to step up to the throne as Queen. Your mother had made it clear that the death of your father would not push back your growth within the kingdom, and you'd be taking over come Saturday morning. You'd be sat in your best dress, your hair swept back and donning your heaviest jewels. You'd be sat in front of the entire kingdom, presented with your mother's crown and her staff.

You'd be Queen, and he'd be left to yearn behind the scenes.

"I don't know, my love." "I won't marry if it's not you, you know." "I won't either. You know that."

He looks down at you, your eyes wide as you scan his face. He feels his cheeks warm as he cradles your face gently, your hand moving to his wrist.

And just for this moment, you're not the Princess of Decelis. You're not the princess of anything, you're nothing but his. His to hold, to cherish, to love. His to kiss and worship, to kneel before and ask forgiveness for his sins. The queen of his heart.

"I love you, Jongseong." "I love you, Y/N."

IT'S THURSDAY EVENING, AND IT'S THE FIRST TIME HE'S GOTTEN A MOMENT TO HIMSELF SINCE THE START OF YOUR FESTIVITIES.

He's sitting at his windowsill, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. A glass of wine sits untouched next to him as he stares at the stars. They're dim, but they're there – freckling the sky and accompanying the moon, the beauty of it reminding him of you. The kingdom is quiet aside from the trotting of a few horses on the cobblestone, the laughter of teenagers echoing through the town as they sneak pints of mead and bottles of wine from the back of the local brewery.

He hasn't been able to speak to you much since that night in his bedroom, and he feels his stomach turn every time you make a moment to talk to him – only to be pulled away. By a childhood friend wanting to dance, or a man thinking he has a chance to win your heart – he always lets you go, seeing the bit of anger flare in the back of your eyes as you slip away. He misses you, and you're only ever two or three inches away. He walks alongside you, his hands folded behind his back as yours rest in front of you. With every move of your arms, the collar of your dress reveals the dotted bruising of his teeth against your shoulder – to the point that he adjusts your hair over it several times. No one thinks anything more of it. Just a devoted guard that cares for the safety and image of the Princess of Decelis.

He misses when you were just his heart. The reason behind the wild thundering of it in his ribcage, the sole reason he breathes and lives. He hates the way your gold locket burns under his clothes, hidden under the collars of his shirts since you clipped it on him on Sunday morning with a silent kiss to his lips.

Now?

You're moving throught the gardens below with your mother, he spots you a few feet into the rose bushes. The moonlight illuminates the satin of your baby blue dress, the glitter catching his eyes as you stop suddenly. You turn around, your eyes dancing around before you look up, meeting his. Yours widen, lips parting before your mother speaks and you close it.

"Don't look at me that way, Y/N. It worries me." His brows jump, and he sees the way your eyes fill with guilt before you look away from him. "Everything worries you, Mother." You respond, your hands clutching the fabric of your dress as the Queen comes into view. Her dress is a deep sea blue, the belled sleeves gathered around her hands as she folds them in front of her. "Y/N, I run a kingdom and make thousands of decisions in just one day. Now, I've got an daughter that picks at her food in front of guests, of course I worry. What has gotten into you? Please tell me now, lest I pull it out of you."

Your mother's voice is quite soothing to him, and he feels a rift in the air as he hears the heels of your shoes click on the cobblestone.

"Mother, I…I don't want you to be upset." "Darling, please. Spit it out before I get collywobbles."

Your face crumples slightly, and he sits up quickly when he sees you cover your face with your hands. Your mother quickly pulls you into her embrace, her hands smoothing over your hair as you cry into her chest. She shushes you as one does a baby.

"I could never be upset with you, Y/N. You're everything to me, you have to know that." She rubs her hand over the back of your head, carefully tucking your hair behind your ears. "Everything I do, I do for you. The kingdom, the feasts, everything is for you, Y/N. As long as you're happy, I'll never have any reservations." Your head lifts, and the moonlight shines on the sheen of tears down your cheeks.

"What happens when I become Queen? Will I have to marry someone of your choosing?"

Your mother looks taken aback, before shaking her head. Her hand carefully adjusts the bejeweled tiara on your head, before tucking her hands behind her back.

"I married for love." She says softly, but it's still heard in the still of night. She turns, walking carefully down the pathway to one of the stone benches. "I married for love, and mighty me, did I love." The Queen sits on the edge of it, looking up at you making your way in front of her. She smiles softly, and he sees so much of you in her. "This is about Jongseong." He feels his heart stop, the sound of his name from your mother's lips so foreign. She awarded him curt nods, gentle smiles since his station at the palace, but nothing more.

He looks to you, seeing the tiara in your hand and you picking at the silver framework. "It wasn't on purpose." "Yes, it was."

His brows furrow at the admission, only to see you mirroring his expression.

"What?" The Queen shrugs, a small smile gracing her features as she plucks one of the roses off the bush next to her.

"Your betrothal wasn't a thought that crossed my mind until your father came to bed after your celebration feast." She picks at a petal, letting it float to the ground beneath her feet. "I'd long run my options into the ground, I was trying to pull any and every string to get you out of the alliance marriage with Desrosiers. It was eating me alive."

You knelt before her, eyes riddled with curiosity as he leaned further out the window.

"He said you thought Jongseong was cute. That you were in the kitchen with the chef, and making him a pastry with the berries you bought that day. I remember I went to check your bedroom when he said that, and you weren't there. I asked one of the maids to find you, but she told me you were busy making a lemon curd." She nods, a fond smile gracing her lips as she picks another petal off the bud.

"And then, you wore your favorite dress the next day when you left the stables. I saw you from my bedroom, and you had the giddiest smile on your face." She laughs, her fingers gently spreading the unbloomed bud to reveal the anthers. "Your father smiled the same way, you know, when we met on the night of my suitors' ball. We snuck out to this very garden, sat on this bench and looked at the stars."

"I catch the two of you out of the corner of my eye quite often. When you're visiting his parents in the forest, and he helps you onto your horse. When you're in the library, reading all the books he recommends and he falls asleep on your shoulder. When he's teaching you things that he loves, and you listen instead of scrunching your nose and turning away. That's…that's something I could never arrange, ally, or even enchant. You don't find that anywhere, not like this."

He hears a soft sniffle, before seeing her slide the rose over your ear.

"He's done just as I've asked of him. In a world so bleak, where the devil is in the details…he's shown you love." Her hands cup your face gently, "You…are everything to me. You're the apple of my eye, and I know I could never, ever take something so pure away from you. The crown, the throne, the kingdom…it's all yours. Yours for the taking, the ruling, all of it. And it's something you've never had to earn, even if you've worked hard for it." The Queen stands, pulling you to your feet and into her arms.

"You don't just get love. You earn it. You earn every caress, every kiss, every moment of companionship. That boy…you've won him over so dearly. He's kind, and gentle. He's responsible and I know he'd love you until the end of your days."

She pulls away, cradling your face in her hands with a stern look settled in her brows.

"Don't you dare break his heart, Y/N."

"I would never." You smile mischievously, your hands circled her wrists as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Is this what you've had your stomach in knots about? Jongseong?" Your mother trills her lips, pinching your cheeks. "Go on, off to bed you go. You've got quite the rehearsal tomorrow."

"Yes, Mother. And…" You glance over her shoulder, your eyes pinning him in place as his cheeks burn in embarrassment. "Thank you." "I'd bring the stars down if you asked, my darling. Now, scram. I've got many things to do before tomorrow's festivities." She wiggles her finger at you as you clutch your dress in your hands, your tiara grasped in one of them as you nod. You turn on your heel, the click of them against the cobblestone getting louder as you made your way back to the castle.

He watches fondly as the fabrics flow behind you, his chest warm as you disappear into the north tower entrance. He goes to move from the windowsill, but something stops him as he sees the Queen's shoulders sag. She sits down once more, a sigh from her lips as she takes the heavy golden crown atop her head and thumbs at the large gems. She sets it down in her lap, her hands reaching around her neck and a locket similar to yours appears in her palm. She opens it, her finger tracing the photo inside it with sigh. She holds it to her chest, a deep breath slipping through her lips.

"Oh, my heart. How I miss you, so." She sniffled, before inhaling shakily and closing the locket. He hears the door of his room open, but he doesn't turn around as he feels your arms snake over his shoulders. His hand reaches for yours, interlacing your fingers as your lips brush his cheek.

"She's so…sad." He murmurs, feeling your thumb trace soft circles into his skin. He can feel your lips open to say something, when your mother speaks again.

She looks up to the sky, the brightest star shining to the left of the moon.

"I know you're looking down, my heart. Do you think they'll marry? She'll miss you there." She stands, holding her crown in her hand before taking a deep breath and placing it atop her head once more. "But, I'll see you there. I know it." She clasps the locket around her neck once more, tucking it beneath the collar of her dress before another sigh comes out.

"Goodnight, my heart. I love you dearly." The Queen folds her hands in front of her, her head bowed as she quietly made her way through the garden. He sighs, before turning to you. Your brows are furrowed as you stare into the night, the cogs in your head turning before you pull him away from the window. He allows it, following you down the hall with his hand interlaced with yours.

"Come, we've got work to do before my coronation."

THE DAWN OF SATURDAY WAS BROUGHT FORTH WITH SERENE SILENCE.

He was taking a deep breath in front of your mother's bedroom, having reluctantly left the safety of your arms. He held the bouquet he'd arranged the night before, with Friday being bursting with activities and way too much on your plate. Marigolds, Grand Cru lilies, with speckles of baby's breath and the touch of white bouvardia. A bouquet you saw much of during your parents' marriage – with gifts of berries from Jay's family, pastries made by your father's careful hands, songs played by the royal orchestra at your father's order.

You'd seemed like a madwoman last night, darting around in the kitchen and giving him things to do. He'd muddled berries, kneaded pastry dough, settled a lemon curd. He'd wrapped the flowers in wax paper, tied together with an ivory bow you'd stolen from your mother's collection – one she'd worn the night of her suitors' ball so many years ago.

"You haven't got all day, my love."

Your voice echoed down the hall, and he looked up to see you carefully clipping in your earrings. Your hair had been tied back and you weren't close to being ready, but he felt his heart all too warm as you smiled and waved him forward with both hands. He turned back to the heavy oak door, his hand grabbing the iron knocker and tapping it to the door three times.

"Your Majesty? It's Jongseong." He speaks clearly, but feels his stomach flip as he hears the click of her shoes on the marble tile. He looks back up to see you've gone, closing his eyes as he takes another deep breath. He hears the door lock click open, before a shred of the morning light peeks through.

Your mother looks down at him, her eyes wide as she pulls the door open further.

"Yes?" Her voice is soft, and he opens his eyes to see her dressed in a bright, golden yellow dress. His eyes widen, hand tightening around the bouquet. Her eyes fill with worry, "Are you alright? Is that…for me?" "I…yes. Yes, it is. From…the Princess and I." He holds it out to her, her hand hesitating to take it as her eyes rake over it. "The Princess?" She whispers, before thumbing at the petals of the lilies. She takes it gently, her eyes filling with something of suspicion as she examines them. "Is she…planning something? She's a daring little thing, you know." "Not to my knowledge, Your Majesty." He lies through his teeth, his eyes catching the morning light reflecting off the glittering dress. "If I may…you look lovely." The Queen tenses, her hand moving to the bodice of her dress. She shifts quietly, before looking back at him.

"It's the least I could do for her. She complains that I never wear colors anymore. I figured…it's not too flashy, is it? She always liked this one best." The Queen turns to the grand mirror against the wall, and he cleared his throat.

"It's not about what I think, is it?" He smiles softly, earning a laugh from the Queen. It's rich, but airy and playful.

"I suppose today is all about her. I'm sure she'll love it, she has to." She soothes herself, before catching his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "Jongseong?" "Yes, Your Majesty?" He straightens, and she turns on her heel, placing the hefty bouquet on her pillows. The bell sleeves of her dress come forward as she folds her manicured hands in front of her, her head tilted slightly under her sparkling bejeweled crown.

"You'll keep her safe, won't you? If you marry?"

He feels his chest warm and swell with pride, his cheeks flushing as he bows at the waist. "It would be my honor, Your Majesty."

"And you'll love her, until the end of her days? 'Til death do you part?" Her voice grows stern, her brows furrowed at the center as he lifts his head. Her eyes are steely, only hardening more as he nodded.

"I'd give my life." He admits softly, her eyes softening. The Queen nods, and his eyes widen as she, too, bows at the waist with her eyes closed.

"Then I give you my blessing to take her hand in marriage." She whispers, before straightening and folding her hands behind her back. "Through sickness and health, for richer or poorer." "To love and cherish." He murmurs, folding his hands behind his back as he meets her eyes. "I give you my word, Your Majesty." She only nods softly, before reaching around her neck and unclasping her necklace. A thick, gold band is hanging next to the locket, and he recognizes it as the ring the King used to wear when he would visit. Without letting go of her locket, she carefully pulls at her left ring finger. He can't help but feel his eyes widen as she holds the hefty gold bands out to him. She gives him a pointed look, flicking her wrist for him to take the jewelry. He does so carefully, before she smiles.

"I've had them blessed by the town priest, so don't worry. Now…see to it that everything is in place in the gardens, will you? It's going to be a very busy day."

He nods, "Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you…for everything."

"It's my honor, Jongseong. Please, go." He reaches for the door without another word, closing it gently behind him before he makes his way down the hall, his hands cool against flaming hot cheeks.

Jay is strolling through the garden as the trickle of guests begin arriving, greeting them gently as the royal orchestra plays soft music at the edge of the rose garden. You'd be crowned Queen in the marigold garden, the courtyard decorated to your liking – cream and ivory ribbon tied in all sorts of bows, glittering vases filled with refreshing spring water on the long table covered in fruit and meat and soft, spongy cakes.

Your mother's throne sits at the end of the court yard, the Decelis staff and coronation crown sat on a purple velvet pillow. They sparkle in the sunlight, with the people of the kingdom fawning over it from a distance – a royal guard standing on high alert next to the throne.

"Oh, this is beautiful."

He hears a familiar voice at the entrance of the lily garden, his eyes widening as he sees his parents slip in. He rushes over, a smile on his face as his mother waves him over.

"You're here! Did the Queen send for you?" He embraces them warmly, but hears your voice before they can respond.

"I sent for them, Jongseong. Mrs. Park, Mr. Park. It's an honor to see you again. I'm sorry I couldn't make it back last weekend, I had a terrible case of the lollygag." The three of them look up to see you smiling brightly – your dress long and sparkling in the morning sun, of glittering alabaster tulle and a billowing skirt in the soft breeze. Your arms are covered in sparkling sleeves, belled at the wrists and your shoulders peeking from the lowered cuffs. Your hair is pulled back, not a single strand out of place under your twinkling tiara. Your ears don simple gold hoops, your necklace the crest of the kingdom on an ovaled pendant.

"Oh, my stars." Mrs. Park's hand covers her mouth, "Look at you, Princess."

"Oh, you flatter me. Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable, there's a table reserved for you at the front." You give them a quick curtsy, giving Mrs. Park a quick hug and Mr. Park a soft handshake. "I'll see you all during the feast, yes?" "Of course." Mr. Park nods, before Jay watches them slip away. You glance at him, your smile softening as you inch near – not close enough to catch attention, but seemingly just a princess speaking to her guard about something worrisome.

"I love you." You whisper, only to earn a scoffed laugh.

"You're going to be the death of me, look at you." He whispers back, and you hide your laugh with a bite of your lip. "I love you, my heart." "I'll see you after, yes? Sit with your parents." You pat his arm, and he nods, before disguising a tiara adjustment as an excuse to touch you.

"I have to talk to you after, okay? We can meet in the library." He whispers, and your eyes fill with worry. "Is everything alright?" "Of course, my heart. Why would I worry you on such an important day?" His smile is warm, and you give him a suspicious one with a pat to his chest. "Well…I'll see you. Go, sit while I mingle. I need you up there when I get crowned." You wiggle your brows, and he lets his eyes flicker to your lips. You stick your tongue out at him, "Not here." "I know, I know. But…you know, right?" He pretends to adjust the tiara again, watching the way you fight yourself from leaning into the touch. "You have to know." "I do. I love you. Now, go, beloved." You point your gaze, and he retreats his hands to his back, giving you a curt nod.

"As you wish, Your Highness." He grins as you scowl, laughing to himself as he turns away and walks towards his parents. They're seated quietly, with two glasses of water poured in front of them and a plate of sliced fruit. They smile at each other as they pick at the berries chosen from their shop, and he slips into the chair next to them.

"Does the Queen know?" His mother whispers, and he clears his throat quietly. "Yes." He tries not to let the giddiness climb up his throat, and she smiles softly. "Are you happy?" His father questions, and he nods discreetly.

"It's the softest thing I've ever felt." He looks up before picking at the plate of fruit, piercing a blackberry with a toothpick as he sees you take a flute of sparkling cider off a passing waiter's tray. You hand it to the younger woman in front of you, before tucking her hair behind her ear. You give her a soft nod, before turning away and leaving her in awe.

Much like you've always left him.

"Welcome, welcome! Ladies and gentleman, it is such an honor to have you all here for this incredibly important day in our kingdom's history. Today, we witness the spring equinox be christened with the crowning of a new Queen, of a new ruler."

Your mother is standing bright and tall at the end of the marigold garden, with everyone in utter astonishment at the return of her colorful wardrobe. She's practically glimmering in everyone's eyes – and she holds her composure at everyone's loving eyes as she continues to speak.

"Through the years of my time as Queen, I've seen many things. Even as just a part of this world, I've seen so much. I've seen death, I've seen birth. I've seen renewal and growth, I've seen the sick be healed and the healed lose their minds in utter despair at the idea of loss. There are some special gratitudes I'd like to put forth, particularly to the Park family." She smiles warmly at their table, and they smile quietly.

You're standing with Jay next to the throne, your hands folded behind your back when you sneak at a glance at him. Your eyes catch his, and he raises a brow as he looks between his parents. "The Park family has not only brought forth an incredibly bounty – the juice of their fruit so sweet on our tongues, the magic of Mrs. Park's medicinal genius curing our sickness…but the blanket of love they have covered my family in. For decades, I've entrusted my life in their hands, my daughter's…my heart, the King." The crowd of townspeople hum in mourning, and your mother rolls her shoulders gently. Her hands cover her chest, fingers curled around each other as she breathes in.

"With death, comes life. Though the loss of the King has been long in the past now, I still feel it. I feel the pain, deep in my heart. As though a piece of my soul has gone with him, as though I'm no longer complete." Her voice remains strong and steady, but her eyes water slightly as she rolls her shoulders once more.

"I remember when I first introduced Y/N as the Princess of Decelis. Everyone, as far as the eye could see, became incredibly enamored with her. And I could feel it, I could feel the adoration of everyone who came to see her. It was one of the proudest moments of my life, and…through her, every time I see her…" She turns to look at you, standing next to her throne with your head held high.

"It's like the King never left. She is so full of light, love and life. Life, what we are all surviving when we should be living. What more could I ever ask of her? When I know she'll be a wonderful ruler, a fair and just Queen. What more, I ask, could I ever want? When I know she will be happy, with the love that she gives and the light that she shines upon us all?"

Jay glances at you through the corner of his eye, your eyes watering as you step forward. You don't see the way his fingers clench at his side, wanting to comfort you.

"The Princess has some thoughts she'd like to share before we continue. Please, a standing ovation."

The Queen steps back, her smile soft as you take her place. Everyone in front of you has the same bright smile, but the only ones that matter are behind you.

"It is truly an honor to be in front of you all today to accept the next step in my journey. The Queen and I have gone through many things together, and though I've seen only what half has she, I…know the love. The light that shines on this kingdom, not brought forth by me but by her. So much kindness, and generosity, even through her own tribulations. Wouldn't you agree?" Your smile garners the cheers of the townspeople gathered throughout the gardens, and you clap along them softly. Your face grows slightly solemn as you clear your throat. "Three years ago this winter, our kingdom was ambushed by Fort Allingham and Castle Desrosiers. A plot of land just south of our kingdom was unclaimed, and it is said that greed is the greatest root of all evil. Land, gold, riches in oil can all be taken; when a life is taken to stake their claim, when life a many is taken…it cannot be in vain. The King…he died with honor. His sacrifice, and his memory will not be thrown away or forgotten. With this, I ask for a moment of silence for the royal orchestra to play something I've asked to honor him today, as well as the indescribable love he had for my mother."

You watch as the people of your kingdom turn to the orchestra in the rose garden, your mother's brow slightly furrowed as she does the same.

Her eyes widen as the opening notes of Salut D'Amour float through the garden.

Soft murmurs fill the garden – because everyone who knows the story of your mother and father knows that it was the first and only song they danced to during the suitors' ball where they met. Everyone who went to the royal wedding and sat in that sacred ballroom, knows that Salut D'Amour played as their first dance together.

Everyone who was at the feast to honor your father, knows that Salut D'Amour played during the last dance of the night.

Salut D'Amour – Greeting of Love.

The Queen hums along quietly, her eyes watering as she sways from side to side. The townspeople do the same, and you feel the heat of Jay's eyes on you as everyone else is turned away. You meet them, a soft smile on your lips as you tilt your head.

The song ends, and the garden is erupted in cheers as your mother steps to you, resting her forehead to yours.

"Thank you, darling." She steps aside, and you garner their attention once more.

"My father was a wonderful man, father and king. I hope to only live up to my mother's legacy, and his. Thank you for being with me on this very special day." You take a quick bow as they clap gently, before taking a step back next to the thrown. Your mother smiles, stepping forward alongside her royal guard that holds the pillow. She grabs the staff in her right hand, before you turn to face her. Jay places a thick cushion on the ground for you to kneel onto, gingerly taking your hand to help you down. He lets his touch linger, before another guard hands him a matching pillow for your tiara.

"Today, we witness a wonderful transition for the Decelis Kingdom." She touches the end of the staff to your left shoulder, "Princess Y/N will honor the crest of the kingdom, the glory, the honesty and the truth…" She touches it to your right shoulder, "She will make her decisions of sane heart and mind, and bring forth only fruit to the kingdom. She will be just, and fair…" She touches the staff to the top of your head, "And she will bestow mercy upon us all. Do you choose to venerate these honors as I have read them to you?"

"I do." You hold your hands out for the staff, and the Queen gingerly places it in your hands. You lean your head forward, your mother carefully lifting your tiara and placing it on the pillow in Jay's hands. He hands it off to another royal guard, who steps back with it and stands rigidly. She turns slightly, taking the coronation crown in her hands and Jay holds his hand for you to take as you stand. You transfer the staff into your right hand, bowing your head as your mother places the heavy crown atop your head.

"Crowned on this 80th calendar day, on the first equinox of the year; I present the honorable Queen of Decelis."

You turn to face the people of your kingdom, your cheeks hurting as the entire garden fills with screams and cheers, a few whistles sounding off from the somehow tipsy men in the corner. You give the Parks a warm smile as they stand and clap, before you speak again.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's celebrate!"

"You have no idea how many people asked when I'm getting married, and if I'd be having a suitors' ball. Apparently, it's unheard of for a prospective Queen to advance to the throne without being betrothed. How incredibly modern of me." You're slumped over the end of your bed, earning a soft laugh as he pulled at the strings of your dress. You sighed in relief at the loosening of the bodice around your torso, stretching slightly. He pulls the zipper down with ease, his knuckles digging lightly against your back as you groan. "And what did you tell them?" You huff, before rolling on your back. There's a guilty look in your eye, and he feels suspicion cross his features as he leans over you. He raises a brow as you look away from him.

"Y/N." "Don't say my name like that, then I can't ignore it."

You cover your face with your hands, but he pulls them away from you, pinning them above your head as he gives you an expectant look. You sigh, tonguing your cheek before rolling your eyes.

"I told them that I was already betrothed." You mumble, making him groan slightly. "I don't believe in jinxes! So we're fine! It's fine!" "Honey, you can't do that. People are going to stir up a flurry of rumors." He scolds, but you only jut your lip out in a pout.

"Don't chastise me right now, I saved you from having to ask me! And I've had a long day!" You try and reason, but he only shakes his head, leaning closer. He feels your breath hitch as his lips brush yours as he speaks.

"And what makes you think I don't want to ask you to marry me? Why do you get to make that decision for us?" You blink carefully, before sighing. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, before you shrug in defeat.

"I guess I jumped the gun." "Oh, but you've had such a long day." You scoff, "Don't patronize me." He smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You frown as he pulls away before you can kiss him back, but he lets go of your hands entirely and slides off the bed. You try not to look disappointed as you slip in front of your vanity, pulling pins out of your hair and rubbing your fingers against your scalp. Your eyes roll slightly, before you feel Jay's fingers begin to pluck the rest of the pins out.

"Your mother spoke to me this morning when I delivered her flowers. She's quite scary sometimes." He nods as you look at him through the mirror, your eyes wide as you attempt to turn to look at him. He smirks, holding your head in place with his hands as you scowl. "My mother is not scary." You grumble, tonguing your cheek before you feel his dull fingernails scrape lightly against your scalp. You lean into it, and he bites back a laugh as he massages the back of your head. He leans down slightly, pressing his lips to your temple before whispering.

"She gave me her blessing." He watches your eyes widen in the mirror, before you twist in your seat. "You asked her?" "She didn't give me a chance, she just asked me if I'd keep you safe." You turn fully as he crouches in front of you, carefully pulling your heels off. "And what did you say?" "That it would be my honor. She asked if I'd love you until the end of your days, 'til death do us part. I said I'd give my life. The way I see it, your mother practically married us already."

You snort, nudging his thigh with your foot. "You haven't even asked me yet."

He smiles, feeling his heart warm as you realize that that's precisely what he's about to do. "No, Jay, not right now! I look a mess, and I'm half dressed–" "And yet, you're still the love of my life. Funny how that works, isn't it?" He grins as you pout, your eyes filling with tears as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the gold bands that belonged to your mother. "She gave me these."

Your pout only deepens as you cover your face with your hands, a soft sob falling from your lips as he coos.

"Oh, sweetheart. Come on, don't cry. I haven't even asked yet."

You uncover your face, a furrow in your brows as your voice sounds off, thick with tears. "It doesn't even matter if you have, I know you're going to and I'm going to say yes so just put the damn thing on me already!" "You really have had such a long day, I'd hate to make it longer." He can't help but smile wider, making you scoff.

"I'm in tears and you're smiling at me! You're cynical!" You wipe at your face with your hands as he bends one knee on the floor, only for your face to crumple the moment it hits the ground. "Jongseong!" He takes your hand gently, your lips pouty as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. "I love you, you know that?" He starts, "You are the softest, purest form of love I've ever been subjected to and I don't think I could ever fathom a life where I don't come home to you every single night. I love you when you're sick and throwing a fit because it's too hot, I love you when you hog the blankets in my room even though you're technically not even supposed to be in there." You scoff, but don't interrupt as he runs his thumb over your knuckles.

"I love you like every day will be my last, and I worship the ground you walk upon until I can no longer crawl behind you. If my dying day was spent by your side…I could never ask for more."

He glances up at you, your eyes wide and wet and full of love.

"Marry me." He whispers, and you nod your head frantically. "Yes, I intend to. Hurry up!" You splay your fingers, making him snort as he shakes his head.

"You're so impatient." He rolls his eyes, but doesn't miss the tremble in his fingers as he carefully slides the ring on yours. Your hand grabs his, pulling him forward and pressing a warm kiss to his lips before grabbing his face and squeezing his cheeks between your hands. You pepper kisses all over it, with murmurs of I love you sprinkled in before you stop suddenly, your eyes wide as you pull back.

"You're going to be King." You blurt, and he shrugs but you shake your head, still holding onto his face as you ramble. "Jay, you're going to be King. There is so much my mom is going to have to teach you, and she–"

"Honey." "She's going to have to set up the wedding because I don't know how to do that, and what if she–" "Y/N." You stop, embarrassedly letting go of his face. "I'm sorry." He takes hold of your hands, standing from his spot in front of you and pulling you with him. He plants a kiss on your hairline, before tucking a loose curl behind your ear.

"Where you go, I go. Doesn't matter what I am, as long as I'm yours. We'll figure it out in due time." He presses a chaste kiss to your pouted lip, before cradling your face in his hands. "What do you say I help you decompress from your oh so long day?" You raise a brow, "Are you gonna–" "Do the tongue thing, yes." "Lock my door. We may be engaged, but I'm still a lady."

THE WEDDING WAS HELD THREE WEEKS LATER AND WAS A HUGE SUCCESS – WITH MANY TOWNSPEOPLE TALKING ABOUT HOW EASY IT WAS TO FIGURE OUT THAT IT WAS HIM YOU WERE ENGAGED TO.

How, you may be asking? Neither of you are as subtle as you think. Apparently, neither of you could stop sharing glances during the last feast of your coronation festivities, and a few of the straggling women spotted him press a kiss to your shoulder as he helped clean up the garden. Not to mention the fact that several huntsmen had also been in the forest every time you and him went to visit his parents. As it turns out, you don't usually end up making out against a tree during regular archery lessons, but hey – life is short. Foragers had also spotted the two of you about, and you're embarrassed to know that one of the fishermen in town had come across you and Jay canoodling while roasting a wild salmon over a campfire. Mr. Lee insisted it was fine, that it was cute – and also, none of his business.

The wedding had been grand – and quick. Jay was always right, you were incredibly impatient; but you saw no reason for something to take so long to plan when you had everything perfectly accessible. Your ceremony was only family and a few scattered friends – but the reception was a huge feast that gathered all the townspeople in your garden once more. Your first dance was to Salut D'Amour, and you got slightly tipsy off a few flutes of champagne. Your dress was something delicate, worked on from the morning after your coronation to the morning of your wedding – and every single sparkle of glitter was perfect in the beaming sunlight. As for Jay? He was crowned King in the privacy of your mother's throne room, with his parents and you present. No one in town made a fuss about it, seemingly aware that he was a private person – after all, you managed to keep a relationship of three years secret…for the most part. He admitted he didn't really care for the title, only taking it because it meant a great deal of support for you as Queen.

He moved his belongings into your bedroom, and you could tell the way things really hit him as he put away the last book in his collection onto your shelf.

"...So this is us, huh?" He murmured, slipping under the covers as you snorted, resting your head on the heel of your palm as he turned on his side to face you. "We're married." "We are." You smile, "It's insane to me to know that me telling my father I thought you were cute has led us here."

"I love knowing that you fell first." "Oh, shut up. You fell harder." "I'm not refuting that, I'm just saying…you like me." "I love you, idiot." You roll your eyes as he scoots closer, and you swing your leg over his hip. "Just wait until everyone starts asking about heirs. I swear, it will feel like the most awkward thing ever." "We just got married, they can wait a year or two." He snorts, and you raise a brow.

"A year or two? More like three or four." You scoff, and he smiles. "Don't smile at me like that, it's like you're plotting something." "Three or four years?" He moves to hover over you slightly, making you groan as he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. "Jay." "Mmh?" "You are horrible, terrible, no good for my health." You huff embarrassedly as he trails down your jaw, his hand pushing the hem of your nightgown up. "Awful, even. Bad." "Mhm, mhm." His fingers curl around the waistband of your underwear, "Have you tried detrimental to? Maybe ghastly?" "You're parlous for my health, my beloved husband." You roll your eyes as he smiles, before feeling the fabric of your underwear being pulled down your legs. "Jay." "Consider this a practice round." He presses a kiss to your lips, "Just wanna make you feel good, okay?"

And of course, it's okay. It's always okay – it's you and him, forever.

That's why you're never against him, either. You'd never felt so safe in the arms of someone who didn't owe you anything – because he didn't. He didn't owe you the kindness of his heart, the warmth of his love or the solidness of his honesty. He didn't owe you friendship, because when this started – it was just a job. To protect you from harm, to watch over you, to help you hop along.

When he first came into your life after your father's death, he helped you see there was a way to have your cake and eat it too, to win the battle and the war.

There didn't have to be more than that to your relationship – more than the subtle reminders of unbreakable love, of yearning desire, of undying patience.

There didn't have to be anything more to you as a person – nothing but who you were already, sprinkled in with what it was like to be loved by Jay. It was warm, it was patient and kind…and it was everything to you. Jay was everything to you, and you felt ease knowing it could now forever rest at the forefront of your mind – because he is proof that you can win the battle, and conquer the world.

"Honey?" "Yes, my heart?" "I love you." "I love you, angel."

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timmydraker · 2 months ago

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There were a lot of hypocrital things about Tim’s parents, as with most living beings. A lot of these things weren’t all that important and usually just came with out of touch rich folk, like the expensive of things and service expectations.

But one thing that really affected Tim was their opinions of material things.

His entire life growing up was filled with as ‘modern’ designs as they could find and all minimalistic. White walls, marble tiles and counters everywhere, abstract art that could be made by a two year old and most importantly, no clutter.

Except of course for all of their artefacts that just ‘didn’t count’.

Tim’s room was the same. He was allowed toys of course, but only ones that would assist his intelligence growth and hand eye coordination. If it didn’t benefit in him getting smarter and more productive quicker, it wasn’t allowed. It also had to be either white, grey or beige coloured.

Needles to say, when Tim saw his class mates with teddies and toys and all kinds of things, he was often left with a sense of imposter syndrome.

When he got his camera that went away for a while, at least until he was told he couldn’t actually print any out because they would shut he left in a box and take up space. The idea that they could be placed upon the fridge or walls just didn’t occur to them at all.

Then when he was eleven and well on his way to living a life only hearing about how smart he was for his age, he had to hide in a dumpster lest he be attacked by Two Face’s goons.

That’s where he found a teddy bear with a missing arm and gross stains all over it.

It was the beta things Tim had ever had. Despite the guck and gunk, it was soft and smooth and the most treasured thing he had touched since his camera.

He hid Watson, named after the most beloved partner to the smartest man alive, from his parents for years. He stitched up his arm, washed him three times, and stuffed a floral scented car smeller inside him.

Naturally after Watson came more, though it took him time to pluck the courage to do so.

Sabrina the white cat plush came into his home four months later, soon joined by Salam the black cat plush just a week later when he felt Sabrina was lonely.

It was never about anything more than the comfort at first, the joy of having something so innocent and childish that he never got to have, but as he got treated with kindness from friends at school and heroes and bats, it became a sort of rebellion.

By the time he lost his mother he had nineteen plushies and teddies hidden away under his bed.

When he lost his father and officially moved into the manner, he had twenty four.

When he moved out he decided he didn’t have to hide them anymore even though he knew full well that Dick had plushies and some of the others and no one cared. Something about it just felt so… personal. It wasn’t for anyone else.

So, when he gets his apartment that’s more like a penthouse, it’s easy for him to have a decoy office and a real one.

A real one that had half of its floor made up of a sunken lounge lined with soft carpet and filled to the brims and over with teddies.

It’s only logical for him to buy thirty six more to make it full after all.

He doesn’t tell anyone about them even though he had a list of all their names on the wall of the room, nor does he feel as if it’s some kind of age regression or something similar.

It’s just… a hobby that soothes some of his problems with his parents.

At least, nobody knew about it until he let his team come over and suddenly found a super boy plushies at his bedroom door.

#batfam #dc comics #tim drake #bat family #dc universe #dc #tim drake is red robin #tim drake is a menace #Tim Drake centric #Tim Drake and his trauma responses #teddies #janet and jack drake #super boy #kon el #konner kent #implied timkon

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luveline · 1 year ago

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also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, babe.”

“No thanks.”

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.”

“I’ll have socks.”

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes.

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?”

“Why?”

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?”

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists.

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon.

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout.

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r��s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.”

“‘Xactly,” Amy says.

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.”

“No shoes,” Amy says.

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.”

“Why?”

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?”

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck.

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.”

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.”

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!”

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then.

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.”

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing.

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it.

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough.

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs.

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 16 days ago

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"ME AND THE DEVIL"

Gotham's power couple, the reader and Bruce, went from party to party, slow dance to slow dance. On dark, stormy nights, you both stuck together like glue. Your love was something common people only dreamed of—the sweetest, most loving thing that could have ever graced the earth. There wasn't a label on your relationship; why would there be? He was yours, and you were his. People would part the red carpet as if Bruce were Moses parting the Red Sea for his love. The dance floor would be empty, with the two of you holding each other gently. He'd leave the softest kiss on your neck, enough to make you giggle and blush. Golden jewelry danced off your dark skin; it was perfect, utterly perfect. He'll stare at you like you're the only thing connecting him down to the earth. He'll kiss little "I love yous" into your lips till you can barely breathe. He loves you with all his being, and he would never let you slip through the cracks of his skin meant for protecting you. His rough hands brush away the strands of thick curls from your face just to see those almond eyes. This feeling is stronger than love; it's desire, it's need, it's want. He would never do anything to hurt you until he did—when you learned about his mission to the League. You thought nothing of it until you heard about the birth of his son; you felt like the other woman. You felt like all those lovely nights meant to get you into his sheets were seen by him as just some model, not a woman with wit, integrity, or smarts—just another model to show off at his parties. How could he do this to you? How could he be this heartless? You were with him through everything: the day of his parents' death, the day of Jason's death, your son's death—every misfortune, you were there for just for him to ruin you and leave you a broken husk of the woman you once were. And that DEVIL and his son! You wanted nothing to do with that fool and his stupid crusade to save Gotham. You wanted nothing to do with Bruce Wayne. You want him dead; you want him gone. You want him to hurt, to cry, to know that even as you wreck Wayne Enterprises with Jason's old baseball bat, you still love him as you destroy everything in your shared bedroom—ripping up his expensive suits, destroying paintings of him and you, breaking pictures of you and him with your boys (Dick and Jason). He'll catch you in the act of beating down the Batmobile, crashing the windows, busting the tires. He tries to stop you, tries to make you talk to him—anything. He hates to see you cry; he hates to see those tears run down that pretty brown face. But he's the one who made those tears. In a scuffle to get the bat out of your hands, you hit him right in the head, throwing him to the floor. Crimson red blood stains Jason's bat and the floor. Oh, what did you do? Why did you do this? You fall to your knees where he is, checking on him. He was the devil, but he was as beautiful as an angel to you. Using a piece of your dress, you tried your hardest to wipe the blood away, sobbing out sorry, tears falling onto his tired face. But just like that, he pulls you by the waist and brings you down for a kiss—the sweetest kiss you've ever felt. He kisses away your tears, leaving you motionless, slipping into the cracks of his skin. But you pull away; you won't be fooled by him again. You won't let your walls down for him ever again. That Bruce Wayne charm won't work on you, and it never will. You're leaving him for good, but it doesn't matter where you go—he'll find you, he'll love you, he'll keep you close like the scars on his back. So when he sees you again—gray streaks in that jet black hair, the small wrinkles when you frown, those full lips that used to kiss away his pain—he can't help himself but try and win you back. Age was kind to you but not to him. It made him bitter, angrier, sadder, but it made you sweeter, softer, and stunning. So when you say his name, how could he not ask you for another dance? You're his woman, after all.

#x black reader #black!reader #black fem reader #x black fem reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #fem!reader #batmom x batfam #bruce wayne x batmom #batmom!reader #batmom #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere dc #yandere dc x reader #dcu fanfic #yandere batman #batman x reader

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jakescapes · 3 months ago

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𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. (𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 2)

pairing: stalker!jake x reader (f)

synopsis: It all started when you met Jake Sim—the campus golden boy everyone adored. Charming, new, and impossible to resist, you quickly become his obsession. But as you fall deeper into his world, you realize the person you're falling for isn’t who he appears to be. And soon, you're trapped in a game you never agreed to play.

warnings: non-con/dub-con!!, suffocation, reader passing out at some point, manipulation, public groping, explicit smut, also not proof read that well

word count: 16k

author's note: hi guyss, im kinda disappointed with this. i feel like i started this story out really strong but i feel like it's rlly rushed towards the end. ive just been rlly needing to finish it so i can get to my other projects, so sorry abt that. also there might be some typos and stuff, i didnt get to properly proof read, but still hope u enjoy!

part one

now playing: mind games by sickick

-------------------------

Jake froze, every muscle in his body locking into place as the faint sound of your voice echoed throughout the apartment, shooting up from the floor in haste. The lighthearted remnants of your voice getting farther away from the front door made his stomach churn with anxiety.

Acting swiftly, he began to hurriedly put all of your panties and bras back into the drawer, fumbling and folding them to make them look as untouched as possible. The faint sound of your footsteps grew louder, and when he heard the soft creak of the floorboards just outside your bedroom door, panic surged through him like a lightning bolt.

The doorknob rattled. Jake’s heart thundered in his chest. There was no time. His eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for an escape plan. He had to hide. Quick.

Without thinking, he dove underneath your bed, barely managing to squeeze his long frame into the cramped, dusty space. It was uncomfortable, the sharp wood frame pressing into his back, but he didn’t have the luxury to care.

As he lay there, Jake pressed his face into the musty carpet and swallowed hard, forcing his breathing to slow. He couldn’t make a sound, not even a whisper of movement, trying to act as invisible as possible. He listened intently, every nerve on edge, as your voice drifted into the room, still lighthearted and casual.

“…I mean, sucks that that one store was closed. Seriously, who closes at 1:30 on a Sunday? What are they, trying to be some knock-off Christian Chick-fil-A or something?” you joked, your voice drawing a laugh from your roommate in the other room.

Jake clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the dust tickling his nose and the pounding in his chest. His mind raced. Every second felt like an eternity as he waited, praying you wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

“…Right? It’s like, I get wanting a day off, but why not just close earlier or something?” Ava replied.

You dropped your bag onto your bed with a sigh, the springs creaking slightly above Jake's head. “Honestly, I’m not even mad about it. I just wanted an excuse to drag you out of the apartment anyway. You’ve been holed up in here all weekend.”

Your roommate groaned dramatically from the hallway. “Okay, but I deserved that lazy weekend. Unlike you, Miss Overachiever, I don’t like voluntarily overloading myself with assignments.”

"It’s called being responsible. You should try it sometime.”

Ava stepped into your room, leaning against the doorframe. “You know who else seems responsible? Jake.”

Jake stiffened under the bed, his heart skipping a beat as his name fell from your roommate’s lips.

You rolled your eyes, flopping down onto the mattress, unknowingly inches above the current topic of discussion. “Don’t start, Ava.”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, walking into the room. “He’s cute, he’s smart, and he literally likes you. What’s the holdup?”

You sighed, your voice tinged with hesitation as you stared up at your ceiling. “I don't know. He’s… really sweet, and he always knows how to make me laugh. I mean, he’s so easy to be around, you know? But sometimes, I get this weird feeling. Like, maybe I’m just overthinking it, but it’s just something is off and I can't ignore it."

Jake’s jaw clenched as he lay silently beneath the bed, every word you said hitting him like a blow.

Ava dismissed your concerns with a wave of her hand. “Are your seriously going on about this again? You’re being ridiculous. He’s just a guy. A really hot, really sweet guy who, for some insane reason, actually likes you.”

“Thanks. Your pep talks are always so inspiring,” you said dryly, but there was a hint of a smile in your voice.

Jake’s mind raced as he absorbed the conversation. On one hand, he was relieved to hear that you liked him, even if you did think he was “off.” But on the other hand, your words lit a fire under him. If you thought he was acting weird, he needed to make sure you didn’t anymore. He had to fix that. He had to fix you.

Your roommate just shrugged, heading back toward the hallway. “Whatever. Just let me know when you’re finally ready to admit you’ve got a thing for him.”

You groaned. “Go away, Ava.”

When the door finally clicked shut and you were left alone in the room, Jake could hear the springs creak again after a few moments as you shifted on the bed. He held his breath, praying you wouldn’t look down or notice anything unusual. If, for whatever reason, you decided to take a peak under your bed, he was done for.

The soft creak of the bed springs put Jake on high alert as you shifted your weight and got up, crossing the room toward your mirror and dresser. He stayed still at first, his body tense and pressed against the floor, but curiosity got the better of him. Slowly and cautiously, he tilted his head, peeking out from under the edge of the bed frame.

His breath caught as his gaze settled on you, oblivious to his presence, adjusting the chain of a delicate necklace in front of the mirror. The way you brushed your fingers over the small pendant, the subtle furrow in your brow as you tilted your head to inspect how it sat against your skin—it captivated him. Jake couldn’t help but stare, his pulse quickening as he watched your every movement.

You opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of earrings and holding them up to your ears, deliberating. To Jake, it was fascinating, how meticulous and graceful you were with such simple actions. He’d never seen this side of you before. It was intimate in a way that made his chest tighten.

But then you paused, turning your head slightly as if you sensed something out of place. Jake ducked back under the bed in an instant, his heart pounding in his chest.

Had you seen him? Did you hear something?

"Ugh, where’s that other earring?” you muttered to yourself, your voice breaking the silence. Jake exhaled quietly in relief, the tension in his body easing just enough to steady his nerves.

He clenched his jaw, realizing how reckless he was being. Yet, despite the danger of being caught, he felt an odd thrill coursing through him, an electric mix of fear and exhilaration.

That sensation intensified even more in the next moment, because the next thing he knew, your jeans were dropping to the floor from of your body. They were then followed by the top you were just wearing seconds ago.

Oh my god, he thought.

You were getting naked. Right in front of him.

Jake's attention piqued even more as he adjusted his head slightly, angling it to get a clearer view from the narrow crevice under your bed. The soft glow of your lamp illuminated your features as you slipped off your panties next, and then unclasped your bra, letting them all fall the to the floor right next to the other discarded pieces of clothing.

It all felt so intimate, so unguarded. Jake’s breathing slowed as he tried to remain as quiet as possible, his body stiff and heart racing, a mix of adrenaline and something deeper coursing through him (his arousal).

Speaking of, Jake immediately got hard, once again, at the sight—feeling his jeans getting tighter and suffocating his dick against the floor as it began to grow. However, it was definitely not the right time to pull his fucking dick out right now, and he knew that. Mostly because there certainly wasn't enough room for him to jerk off anyway, and less because he feared being too loud and getting caught.

But really, who could blame him? Any man with a decent pair of eyes would understand Jake’s fascination. Look at you. You were gorgeous. The way your hair cascaded down your slender back, catching the light just right, as you stood in front of the mirror. The subtle way you tilted your head, studying your own reflection with that quiet intensity, as if you were both admiring and critiquing yourself. It was mesmerizing. The way that your tits sat so perfectly, so perky, right above your waistline, perfectly accentuating your figure. Your belly button piercing glinted subtly under the light, resting perfectly against your skin, almost like a cherry on top of an already stunning masterpiece.

Your long legs. They seemed to go on forever, effortlessly graceful as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Everything about you screamed perfection in a way that felt almost unfair to anyone lucky, or unlucky, enough to be in your orbit.

And who could forget that ass of yours? Jake, of course, couldn't. Only getting glimpses of what it looked like when you wore jeans or even those tight, tight yoga pants that drove him crazy definitely couldn't have prepared him for the sight before him. It was so round and curvy, resting perfectly against your hips. I could get used to this, he thought. He had fantasies about it, and now, those said fantasies were certainly growing by the moment, as he just stared right at you. Fantasies of grabbing it, slapping it as hard as he could. Didn't even care about leaving marks or bruises, knowing that except for you, he would be the only one seeing them anyway.

He so badly wanted to get a good look at your pussy. But that damn mirror, the one attached to the dresser, ended just where your hips were, blocking any chance of him catching a glimpse of what lay further. With your back turned towards him, it was as if fate had decided to toy with him, letting him catch only fragments of your perfect image before the mirror cut it off. He could only imagine the rest, and the thought of it made his chest tighten with frustration.

But at the end of the day, it was no big deal. The thought of seeing your sweet, perfect little pussy for the first time, up close while he undressed you and ate it out didn't sound so bad. Saving the best for last, I guess. He promised to himself in that moment, that he would eat it so fucking good it would leave you fucking desperate and begging for more.

Jake liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.

But suddenly, the sound of you walking towards your connected bathroom snapped him out of his thoughts. Jake's heart pounded in his chest as he heard the water turn on in the bathroom a few seconds later. The faint hum of the shower running provided a small but crucial cover for his movements. And as much as he wanted to witness you after a nice, hot shower, probably only wearing a tiny towel wrapped around your body and topped with a sexy messy bun, he knew this was his only opportunity to slip out unnoticed.

Still lying under the bed, Jake strained to listen for any sudden sounds that could signal your return to the bedroom. Satisfied that the shower was fully running and you were preoccupied, he slid out from under the bed as quietly as possible, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid any creaking from the floor.

Once on his feet, he scanned the room to ensure everything was back in its place. His sharp eyes darted around for any evidence of his intrusion, opening up your dresser drawers once more to warrant anything suspicious. Satisfied, he grabbed just a few more pairs of your panties (for safekeeping of course), before he tiptoed toward the door, making sure to avoid stepping on anything that might give him away. Every movement felt painfully loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Slowly, Jake turned the doorknob, grateful that it didn’t squeak. He opened the door just wide enough to slip through.

Now in the hallway, he moved swiftly toward the front of your apartment, glancing over his shoulder to ensure the coast was clear. He could see the shadow of your roommate behind her closed door, which he wanted to take advantage of, in case she had any ideas of stepping out anytime soon.

Before exiting, he paused to ensure the door wouldn’t slam shut behind him. He gently eased it closed until it latched without a sound.

Only when Jake was outside, the cool air hitting his face, did he allow himself to exhale. His hands were trembling, but he couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips. The thrill of narrowly escaping made his heart race as he walked away, blending back into the world as if nothing had happened.

-------------------------

You stepped back into your room, towel drying your damp hair, the scent of your lavender body wash still lingering in the air.

Your gaze landed on the door to your room. It was slightly ajar, a sliver of the hallway visible through the gap. You frowned, pausing mid-step. You were certain Ava shut it before you ended your conversation with her.

Shaking your head, you walked over and pushed the door closed with a soft click, dismissing it completely in the moment. But as you moved around the room, another thing caught your eye—your clothing dresser. The bottom drawer, where you kept your underwear and bras and a few other ones above it, wasn’t pushed in all the way. A small sliver of space separated it from the dresser frame, and you swore you’d closed it flush, as you always did.

You stood there, staring at the drawer. Then you laughed lightly to yourself, shaking the tension away. Seriously? You’re being ridiculous. Ava probably came in looking for some clothes to borrow, you reasoned.

To quiet the nagging thoughts, you reached for your phone and opened your messages.

You: thanks for being so understanding earlier about me canceling

You: i feel bad

The reply came almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting for it.

Jake: ofc, don’t even worry about it

Jake: u deserve to have fun with your friends. just lmk if u need anything

The sweetness in his words made you smile, easing the tension in your chest. Jake was always so patient, so attentive. It made you feel safe. Despite the strange feelings lingering in the back of your mind, you found yourself focusing on how lucky you were to have someone like him.

You sank onto your bed, scrolling through your messages and exchanging a few more lighthearted texts with Jake. The oddities in your room faded into the background, brushed aside by the warmth of his words. Everything was finally feeling normal again.

-------------------------

Some weeks later, you and Jake finally became official. After some more one sided pining on his end, you eventually gave in. How could you not? He was the perfect boyfriend if there ever was one. He never pressured you to do anything, always let you decide where to hang out, and gave you cuddles at the end of the day when you were stressed. At least for now he did.

Anyway, you two were the couple. The kind of picture perfect pair everyone whispered about on campus. Sure, girls despised you for being the one to finally cuff the golden boy, their envy radiating every time they caught you two holding hands and walking each other to class. But who cared? Jake was yours, you were happy, and that’s all that mattered.

But damn, you never realized how clingy he could be.

It started small, little things that felt more endearing than overbearing. Like how he would insist on walking you to every single class or text you updates throughout the day about the most mundane things. But as time passed, you couldn’t help but notice how Jake seemed to always need to be around you.

Take tonight, for example. You’d planned a cozy night in with Ava, some junk food, a cheesy romcom, and long overdue catching up. But Jake had other ideas.

“Surprise,” he said, appearing outside your dorm with that boyish grin you found so hard to resist. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and takeout from that hole in the wall restaurant you loved in the other. And while you appreciated the thoughtful gesture, you couldn’t help but internally roll your eyes at the fact that he was here. Again. You loved your boyfriend's company, truly, but sometimes... you just needed a little space.

You blinked, caught between guilt and irritation. “Jake, I told you I was hanging out with Ava tonight—”

“I know, I know. But you work so hard, and I just wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve to relax.”

It was sweet. Almost too sweet. You couldn’t bring yourself to argue. Instead, you shot Ava a quick apologetic look from behind the door. She was perched on the couch, arms crossed, clearly witnessing the entire situation and waiting for you to shut the door on Jake so the two of you could finally start your movie. But that didn't happen. Instead, you promised to make it up to her, and followed Jake back to his car.

And this was starting to become a pattern. Whenever you had plans, especially with Ava, Jake would magically appear with something planned. A picnic in the park, an impromptu movie night, or a late night drive to “clear your head.” And every time, he’d have some way of framing it as him looking out for you.

“You’ve been so stressed lately. I just thought you’d want to spend time with me,” he’d say with a pout, his hands brushing yours as he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. “But if you’d rather be with her…”

The guilt would hit you like a ton of bricks every time. How could you say no to that? Ava would understand. You could always reschedule, right?

But she wasn’t blind.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Jake,” she said one afternoon, cornering you in the campus coffee shop. Her tone was casual, but her words carried weight. “Not that I don’t get it—he’s your boyfriend. But I feel like we barely hang out anymore.”

Her words stuck with you, planting a tiny seed of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

You sighed, stirring your matcha latte idly as you avoided her gaze. “I know. I do. It’s just… he’s so clingy. That’s just how he is. And I feel bad saying no to him, you know? He gets so disappointed when I do.”

“I get that. I really do. But I feel like he’s kind of monopolizing your time. I mean, it’s not just me. Have you even seen any of your other friends lately?"

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped. She wasn’t wrong. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that. It’s not like I’m trying to push you all away or anything. He just… he makes me feel guilty if I even bring up spending time with anyone else.”

Ava reached across the table, her voice softer now. “Look, I’m not saying to ditch him or anything. I just wish you’d talk to him about it, set some boundaries. You shouldn’t feel guilty for having a life outside of him.”

Honestly, you were a little surprised at yourself at this point. Before Jake, you always promised that you’d never let anyone, let alone a guy, control your life. You had standards. You had priorities. Not that you don’t have those now, but your relationship with Jake wasn’t exactly what you envisioned for yourself back then. Sure, you liked him, maybe even more than you wanted to admit, but the version of you from before would never have tolerated being treated this way. You roommate was right. It was time to set some boundaries.

You nodded. “You’re right. If he tries to do it again, I’ll talk to him. I promise.”

Ava smiled, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “That’s all I’m asking. I just miss my best friend.”

Her words made your chest tighten, and you felt a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant for things to turn out like this.

And just as you had every intention to talk to him about it, you found yourself realizing how hard it actually was. It was almost as if Jake couldn’t fully grasp what you were trying to say, or maybe he just didn’t want to.

Here you were, in his room, standing near the edge of his bed while he sat there, looking up at you with those eyes. Soft, questioning, and frustratingly innocent.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to spend time with you,” you began carefully, your arms crossed. “I’m just saying I need to spend time with other people too, like Ava. She’s my best friend Jake, and I don’t want her to feel like I’ve forgotten about her.”

He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing. “I don’t understand,” he said, his tone laced with genuine confusion. “Am I keeping you from her? I mean, I thought I was spending time with you because we like being together. Isn’t that normal in a relationship?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It is normal, Jake, but not when it feels like it’s all the time. I need some space to breathe, to see my friends, to just... be me for a little while, you know?”

Jake blinked, his expression shifting into something that looked hurt. “But I never stop you from seeing her. I never tell you not to. I mean, is it wrong for me to want to be with you? Am I doing something wrong here?”

His words made your stomach twist. He wasn’t raising his voice or arguing back aggressively. It just really seemed like he was unintentionally making you feel like the bad guy without even trying. You could feel your resolve starting to crumble.

“No, you’re not doing anything wrong,” you said, exhaling deeply, trying to keep your frustration in check. “It’s just... I need balance, Jake. That’s all I’m asking for.”

It was silent between the two of you for a few moments and by the look of his face, you could tell Jake was in deep thought. Then he leaned back slightly, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Come here,” he said softly. “Can we just cuddle for now? I don’t like fighting with you. We can talk about it later.”

You hesitated, staring at him, feeling the weight of the conversation slipping through your fingers. Part of you wanted to push back, to make him understand. But the other part, the tired part, just wanted to stop feeling like the bad guy.

Finally, you sighed and stepped closer, sitting down beside him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I’m sorry if I’m too much sometimes,” he murmured against your hair. “I just love being around you. That’s all.”

You didn’t say anything, just rested your head against his chest, hoping that maybe next time, he’d understand better. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if “next time” would even come.

You were then snapped out of your thoughts. You felt Jake’s arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer, his hands gently moving you onto his lap as he laid down against the edge of his bed. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, letting your head fall into the familiar nook of his neck. The softness of his skin and the warmth of his body felt like a comfort, something you couldn’t easily shake off, no matter how many times you found yourself questioning things.

Inhaling deeply, you let his scent fill your senses, something warm, comforting, like a blend of cologne and the faint trace of his laundry detergent. It made you feel safe, even as the earlier conversation lingered at the back of your mind. Trying to push the thoughts away, you shifted slightly, moving even closer to him, needing to feel his strength, his presence.

He was so strong. So big. His arms felt massive against your body, holding you in place like he never wanted to let go. It was overwhelming in the best way, like everything outside of this moment didn’t matter.

Despite the frustration you’d been feeling with him earlier, there was still something undeniably comforting about being held like this. You couldn’t deny that part of you that loved how he took such good care of you, how he made you feel cherished in his own way, even if it was sometimes suffocating.

His voice broke through the silence, soft yet filled with something you couldn’t quite place. "Look at me," he said gently.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, a mix of guilt and apology swirling within them. You felt a pang in your chest, unsure if it was from him or the doubt creeping in. Was I really being that mean to him? you thought, the question lingering in your mind as you studied his face. He didn’t say anything further, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were full of remorse, as if he was silently pleading with you, trying to convey something deeper than words could express.

The weight of the silence pressed down on you. You had tried to voice your thoughts, but here he was, looking at you like this, and it made you feel like you were the one who overreacted. It made you feel guilty in a way you couldn’t shake off.

Without thinking, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips finding his in an almost instinctual gesture. It was a way of apologizing, of quieting the inner turmoil you were both experiencing. His lips were soft and familiar against yours, and in that moment, it felt like everything was okay again. For a few seconds, the confusion and uncertainty melted away, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the comfort of his touch.

But even as you kissed him, part of you still knew that you were sweeping things under the rug. You could feel the weight of the conversation that still needed to happen, but for now, you chose to silence it. You couldn’t bear to confront it while you were here in his arms, feeling like everything was falling back into place.

So, you continued to play along with the nice guy act—kissing him, feeling him up, giving him the affection he craved. And that seemed to make him forget all about the tension from earlier, his mood lifting with each gesture. What started as simple innocent kissing, soon turned into a heated makeout sesh, with Jake groaning into your mouth with no care in the world.

Even though your boyfriend was known for being the sweetest guy on campus, always the charmer with a warm smile and kind words, you couldn't forget that he was, at the end of the day, a man—a man with needs, desires, and an undeniable level of attraction. When you first started going out with him, you expected him to try to make moves on you, to test the waters, even before he would officially ask you out. It was only natural, right? Especially considering the way he always looked at you with that intensity, the subtle touches here and there, and the moment his eyes landed on you, you could feel his desire to see you stripped of everything. But surprisingly, he never really tried anything. Other than the occasional kissing or making out, there was never anything beyond that between you two. You appreciated the patience. It made you feel respected in a way that was uncommon to see in pretty much any man these days. And maybe that’s why you overlooked the weirdness that sometimes crept in.

So when you could tell he was beginning to feel worked up as you both aggressively made out, him trying to contain himself from thrusting up against you, you let him. And more than that, you encouraged it, meeting his hips halfway, letting some whines slip out as you both tongued into each other's mouths.

Jake was surprised at first, momentarily stopping his movements completely as you continued your relentless riding against the center of his groin. But he then quickly took it as a sign to keep on going, to bring it up a notch.

He started to move his hands from where they were at your hips, all the way down to the bottom of your ass, squeezing them with no shame at all. Surely, you were taken aback at his blunt action, but you couldn't deny that that didn't just turn you the fuck on.

You let him know to keep going by moaning once more against him, which he seemed to like a lot, as he picked up the pace of his hips, thrusting right up against your core. Your panties began to feel a bit sticky, since you were, now, beginning to feel what was right under you the whole time.

You were always curious about what it looked like. Or what it felt like. Sometimes catching glances of it in those grey sweatpants of his, or when he would manspread right next to you on his couch, legs spread wide open. But now your curiosity came to an end, because you could literally feel every. single. inch. of his outline.

And he was bigggg. You just knew. I mean, how could you not? With the way it was completely rock hard against you at this point, being shoved up right against your center over and over, and over again. Now, you were being the one who was beginning to feel riled up and you needed more than to just hump his lap. Thankfully, though, Jake noticed—and he did something about it.

The next moment, you were flipped on your back with Jake now on top, reversing the position you were just in. You let out a gasp of surprise as your back hit the bed's mattress in almost an instant. As you caught your breath, you could see in your dazed eyesight, Jake smirking at you from above, very much liking the affect he had on you.

You were about to teasingly roll your eyes at him, until he forcefully pressed his hips right in between your legs, drawing out a loud, unexpected moan from you. The feeling was so raw with his hard length pressed right up against you, making your pussy ache and crave for more. Then, with no warning, he increased his speed once again, thrusting faster, harder, and spreading your legs apart as far as possible, giving him better access to press his cock onto you. He took them and brought them up against his face, forcing you in a mating press, while continuing his harsh, merciless thrusts, eliciting endless whines from you, and deep groans from Jake.

At this point, you completely soaked right through your panties and your shorts. which you only noticed because Jake was intently staring at the dark spot forming on your shorts, fascinated. Embarrassed, you brought your hands to your face, covering it from his view, getting too overstimulated in the moment from the pleasure coming from Jake's dick, and the almost tangible sexual tension in the room.

"Fuck," he groaned with rasp in his voice, still staring straight at what was in between your legs. "You're so fucking hot. Can't get enough of you."

He then inched even closer to your body, removing his hands from in between your legs, and up to hug your back almost suffocatingly. With this new angle, he could get his cock to reach further up your clit, humping into you at lightning speed. His bed started creaking from the sudden movements, and in the moment, you literally thought it was going to fucking break, considering how fast he was going.

Your mind was blank, overtaken by the waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, you were lost in the sensation, completely dazed. But it still wasn't enough. You wanted to feel it. With nothing in between.

"Jakeee," you whined, almost desperately. "I need ittt... pleaseeee."

This got his attention, his face lifting up from the crook of your neck. He slowed his movements down, just a bit, but still fast enough to keep you in this mind fucked state.

"Need what, baby? Tell me."

This just made you whine even louder. He knew goddamn what. He was just being a bitch and not giving you what he wanted. But your stubborn self wasn't going to give in. Frustrated, you snaked your hand in between both of your tight knitted bodies, grabbing his dick through his jeans harshly, immediately evoking a low, drawn out grunt from your boyfriend.

"Need itt," you whimpered again, reminding him.

You didn't need to tell him twice after that.

Right away, he let go of you, grabbing onto the hem of your shorts and pulling them down all the way down your legs, until you were just covered in those thin, slutty, fucking soaked panties of yours.

He stared at you for a few seconds, loving and drinking in the sight before him. You were propped up on your elbows, a sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead, panting slightly and your legs spread wide open, just for him.

And as much as he wanted to rip his pants off already and shove himself into you, he knew that was just the easy route. If he truly wanted to get you hooked, to have you wrapped around his little finger, he had to stick to the promise he made to himself that day. The promise he made when he was staring at you unclothed, from underneath the crevice of your bed, in your own room that you had no fucking idea about. Yeah, he thought. This is what I had been waiting for.

So instead, he lowered himself off the edge of his bed, never breaking eye contact with you. He took your ankles into his grip, pulling you forward suddenly, prompting a high pitched squeak from you, so your hips were now just at the edge of the bed, with your legs spread wide, dangling and open in the air. With nothing in his way now, he placed his nose directly above your clothed pussy, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, fucking shamelessly.

Yeah, this surprised you, but like c'mon... it was also so fucking hot. And the way he moaned into it, obviously liking the scent and burying his face even deeper, his nose pressing hard against your clit, sent your spiraling out of control.

"Jake what are you—"

"Shhh," he murmured against you, cutting you off. "Just let me."

So you did. Honestly, you would've let him do anything he wanted to you at this point.

After Jake was finally done with being a fucking pervert in front of his very own girlfriend and was finished with smelling your panties, he dipped his tongue out onto the fabric, applying just the right amount of pleasure. Your eyes instantly rolled back from the feeling, letting your arms and head fall back against the bed. If he was going to do this for you, you might as well enjoy it in comfort.

But for Jake, this was almost euphoric. After the first lick, he licked it again. And again. And again, until he was basically making out with your underwear, even going as far as to rubbing his whole face into it. And he honestly seemed like he was getting more pleasure than you were, moaning loudly enough that the neighbors would definitely come rushing to his door and complaining the next day. But after a while, he needed to really taste you, bury his tongue in your hole, with no fabric or lace in his way.

Finally, ripping your panties off your legs as quickly as possible, that's when he finally saw it—your fucking pussy. Dripping onto his bed, so, so, so perfect. He didn't have to even imagine it anymore. He no longer had to dream of it. After months and months of wondering what was hiding beneath the skirts you wore on your dates, he finally knew. And it couldn't have been more irresistible.

Wasting no time, he dug his tongue back in between your folds, ultimately getting a taste of the raw you. The real you he truly craved for for so, so long. He was instantly hit with a rush of euphoria as his eyes rolled back at the relish. Fuck, you couldn't have tasted better to him. And the fact that the whole time you were dating him, this is what you were hiding? This is what you had the whole time? Oh, poor naïve you. If only you would have known the affect just the thought of your pussy gave him. You could have been the one to have him wrapped around your finger. It could have been you. But unfortunately, it wasn't.

Minutes had gone by. Many, many minutes. Jake was currently sucking on your clit as you gripped tightly at the wavy locks of his hair, feeling the urge to rip out every strand as you got more and more overstimulated and impatient by the passing second. He had been going at your clit for the past who even knows anymore, and as much as his skilled tongue work sent you over the edge, you were starting to reach your limit and you needed his mouth off of you now.

"Jakee, it's too much," you weakly attempted, out of breath, as you tried to close your legs on him. Which obviously, didn't fucking work considering how fast he was to open them up again. You sighed in defeat as he just kept on going, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.

"Jakee. Stop it. I can't—"

"Shut the fuck up."

Um, what?

Flabbergasted, your body froze briefly at his sudden tone. Your sweet, kind boyfriend who had never even said the words "damn" or "hell" in front of you was now speaking to you like that? Who did he think he was?

Jake could tell you were taken aback by what he said, with the way your mouth was agape in dismay, your eyes fully widened.

"What," he chuckled, enjoying your state of shock. "You fucking asked for it didn't you? So you're going to take it."

And that's all he said, before he lowered his mouth back onto your core, lapping up every single drop, not letting a single morsel of your arousal go to waste. But even that still didn't distract you from your agitation. He had been eating you out for at least fifteen minutes at this point. And you couldn't take another second of it.

Again, you tried to move your legs out of his grasp, but struggling in the end. His grip on your thighs was so tight, it felt like he was trying to anchor you to him, making sure you couldn't escape even if you wanted to. Still, you kept trying to squirm away, your body instinctively resisting, though each attempt only seemed to make his grip stronger. His hold on you was unyielding, and the harder you struggled, the more you felt the tension building between you both. He wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

"Stop fucking moving," he said, mouth full of pussy.

Whining, you started thrashing around. You needed to get him off of you.

"What did I fucking say—"

"Wait," you blurted out impatiently, a strange feeling stirring within you.

"What?"

"I think.. I-I'm gonna.." you whimpered weakly, as you felt an unfamiliar feeling building up inside of you.

"Gonna what?" he asked confused as he looked up at you, but still not letting up on your hole.

The feeling was getting more urgent, something you couldn't ignore as he kept on sucking. It was so foreign, that you didn't know what it could have been, until it was finally ripping out of you.

"Ahhh!" you screamed, overwhelmed by a sensation you had never experienced before.

You orgasmed.

But it wasn't a regular orgasm. You didn't just come.

You fucking squirted.

All over your boyfriend.

The liquid spilled out of you, shooting into the air, most of it landing on Jake's face—coating not just his mouth, but his nose. And his eyes. Everything. Everywhere.

For a second, you both just stood still in shock, not knowing what to do, your eyes and mouth open wide in horror. The air was thick with tension, neither of you moving, neither of you saying a word. It felt like time had frozen, the moment hanging between you like an unspoken question, waiting for one of you to break the silence.

You were so fucking embarrassed. You had never squirted in your life. Ever. No man you have ever spent a night with has ever made you feel so pleasured the way that Jake did, in just minutes. You never expected for your first time to be repaying the person in their face, let alone that person being your own boyfriend!

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole, close it up, and never leave it again. The weight of shame pressed down on you, suffocating you, making every breath feel like it was being dragged through mud. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable, and everything seemed to spin faster as you wished for the ground to swallow you whole.

And it didn't help that Jake was just staring right at you, panting heavily, with your fucking arousal painted all over him. You were expecting him to get up and walk out, or maybe even slam the door in your face, kicking you out like it was nothing. But to your surprise, that didn’t happen. Instead, he broke the silence just seconds later after catching his breath.

"That was... so fucking hot."

Wait what?

What did he say?

"... Huh?" you asked hesitantly.

"I said," he began, as he started crawling back up onto the bed, not even caring that your slick from his face was now dripping onto his sheets. "That was so.. fucking... hot." He said the last words with an emphasis that carried so much tension, each syllable hanging in the air like an ultimatum. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, unsure of how to respond. The silence that followed was deafening, almost suffocating, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. His eyes never left yours, and there was something in them that you couldn’t quite decipher. Probably his horniness, you concluded.

"Fuck, I need to fuck you so bad," he finally confessed, staring directly at your lips.

And honestly, that idea didn't sound too bad. So you stared right back at him in the eyes, challengingly.

"Fuck me then," you said ultimately, as if daring him, testing how far he was willing to go.

"What'd you say?" he asked, his voice almost tinged with disbelief, as if trying to convince himself that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Making sure he wasn't so horny to the point that he was hallucinating shit now.

"Fuck me."

The next thing you knew, your legs were being hauled up over your own head, once again, in what felt like a literal millisecond. After that, everything felt like a blur. The sound of the metal from Jake’s belt slipping through the loops echoed in the silence, the sharp clink of the buckle followed by the soft hiss of leather rubbing against fabric, pulled off in a rush.

Once all of his clothes were finally on the floor, you took your goddamn time to admire him while you were still perched on the bed. His pecs might have been as big as your own tits while his biceps were strikingly humongous. And damn, that holy six pack.

You were starting to understand now why every girl admired him on campus. His personality was evidently perfect, intelligent, sociable, and effortlessly charming. But you knew that already. However, you hadn’t quite considered just how much his physical appearance played a part in it all. The way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space around you, the confidence in his posture that commanded attention without him even trying. And that slutty ass waist...

And then your gaze trailed lower... and lower. Until you finally laid your eyes on.. it.

You gasped lightly, Jake finding your reaction quite amusing, already knowing what it was you were gawking at. How the hell is that going to fit inside me?.. you thought.

It had to have been at least 8 inches. And it was veiny as fuck. Just the sight of it made your mouth water a little.

As much as it wouldn't go in that easily, you wanted it everywhere. Inside you, in your mouth, and maybe even from behind too. You were starting to imagine all the possibilities and wondered why it took you so long to finally do this with him. It's not like you were any better to be honest, considering since the day you met him you always wondered what that thing of his could do. And now, you were about to find out.

While he positioned himself right in between your legs, you hastily ripped your shirt and bra off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor.

"It might hurt a bit," Jake announced. "Just tell me if I should go slower."

You nodded, not even listening, your eyes never leaving his giant cock as he aligned it against your hole. But you should've listened, because nothing could have possibly prepared you for the first push of his dick.

It entered you with almost no warning, your body still getting used to the feeling, considering you haven't had sex in a while. And none of your past experiences could have compared to what Jake had. So, for you, it hurt. Like hell. More than usual. But you're a fighter, and you were going to take his 8 inches like a champ. So you took a deep breath, eyes shutting, and pushing through the pain while Jake inched even deeper.

But Jake, on the other hand—he seemed like he was already in heaven. Even when just his tip aligned with your pussy, he was already not confident enough he would be able to hold back, wanting to ram into it immediately and take you with no hesitation. But he can't scare you off like that. At least, definitely not now. So instead, he maintained his composure (or at least tried to) as he pushed his length into you just a few more inches.

He was probably halfway in now. And while you were still getting used to the stretch, squeezing Jake's arms from the pain, he was seriously about to fucking cum. Your cunt couldn't have squeezed him better. Your walls wanted to push him out so badly, while he simultaneously thrusted farther and deeper into you.

And when he finally made it all the way in, you gripped onto his chest fiercely, stopping him, not yet sure you'd be able to take him just yet.

"Just a moment," you voiced urgently. "I just need to get used to it first."

And while Jake nodded and remained rooted inside of you, he was going crazy and faltering out of control. The longer he remained still, the more he wanted to insert himself even deeper, thrusting into you with no abandon. He tried to think about your side though, he really did. How your probably trying your best to speed things up and get used to his size, but just couldn't help how big he was. But that thought just turned him on even more and he needed to move.

"Are you good now?" he asked, his voice laced with more desperation and want than he intended, needing to ram into you so badly. And although you weren’t entirely ready yet, you figured you were probably prepared enough to start. So you gave him a quick nod, which you immediately regretted a few seconds later.

The way that the moment you started to tilt your head to form a nod, he took that as a sign and did not hesitate to thrust all of his length up your fucking cervix, already going at a pace you could not handle.

You gasped, loudly and understandably, since Jake was basically ramming into you from the start, leaving you no time to fully adjust. His arms came down to cage your body from under him, his face buried into the mattress right next to yours, already groaning so damn loudly while you yelled in pain. His pace unfathomably increasing, not faltering for even just a second.

Thankfully though, after a few more seconds, the pain was starting to form into pleasure and lust. You could feel that familiar surge of nerves racing through your entire body while your pussy got fucking violated from Jake's dick. And the urge to scream at him to stop pounding into you slowly faded away in the background.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your mouth hung wide open in a silent scream. His gigantic cock slammed into you at a constant rate, nonstop and uninterrupted. His balls slapped your ass every time he thrusted hardly, definitely marking you with some redness down there.

His body was right on top of you, making it harder to breathe as you both moaned loudly, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. He was hitting you just right, in the exact places where you felt it the most. Where you felt it the hardest, the most authentic and raw.

You brought your arms up and lifted his head from where it rested on you, your hands framing his face between them. He stared at you from above, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth, sweat sheering his forehead, pleasure and lust written all over his face.

Never you imagined you would see your boyfriend like this. In such a state so vulnerable. So real.

And it was so fucking hot.

"Fuck," you moaned. "I think I'm close Jake."

"Yeah?" he asked, out of breath.

"Mhmmm..," you whined almost pornographically, and you felt Jake's dick twitch from inside of you, knowing he was close too.

"Me too," he grunted hoarsely. He readjusted himself as his pace sped up, thrusting his hips at a pace so unfathomably violent and fast, that it was starting to hurt your insides just a bit. But it hurt so good.

He brought his lips down to your right nipple, sucking and nibbling at the flesh until it was hard against his tongue, then switching sides to your other tit, milking out everything. He slurped and bit harshly, leaving dark purple and red marks that looked like it hurt. You moaned even louder, your pussy getting so wet that it was starting to coat the bed and even the insides of Jake's thighs. You were dripping literally everywhere.

"Want me to give you my babies?" Jake asked, once he was done with your boobs, grinning slyly while his pace fastened even more.

Not even able to fully comprehend the seriousness or reality of his question, you just shook your head weakly, only focused on cumming. Your brain was so fucked out at this point.

"No?" he chuckled lowly. "I bet you'd be such a good mommy though."

And that was all he said until Jake's thrusts were beginning to get sloppier and sloppier, his face contorting while his eyes rolled back to the brim, shoving in one final thrust, until he shot his thick, white ropes of cum inside you with absolutely no warning.

The sensation was so intense, so unfiltered—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your entire body went rigid, frozen in place. You let out your loudest scream that night, when you felt his fluids paint your insides, unleashing your own orgasm. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your back arched off the bed, until finally, you stilled—your body reminiscing the after moments.

Jake, so fucking exhausted, dropped right on top of you after getting arguably the best orgasm of his life. He panted heavily, eyes shutting immediately, feeling like he just ran a marathon with not a single drop of water.

And that was the last thing you remembered before the weight of exhaustion pulled you both into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-------------------------

After that day, you and Jake had sex, a lot. And everywhere.

In the shower, on the bed, on the floor, the wall, the couch, and even in his roommate's bed (but no one needs to know about that).

It was as if you had both hesitated, afraid to be the first to cross the line—but once it was done, the hesitation vanished, leaving nothing but a mutual understanding between you.

And now, here you were, kneeling down in between your boyfriend's legs, as he sat on his couch. His clothed dick was resting in your mouth, as his hands pet your hair gently.

"Come on, don't be shy," he encouraged, as he drank in the sight of you. You were innocently looking up at him from where you were on the floor, your mouth right on the center of his sweatpants.

"I'm not shy," you said, your mouth still around his dick.

He raised his eyebrow in suspicion, teasingly, not fully convinced by your statement. So, you applied more pressure on his dick, definitely not biting it, but just more force on your mouth overall.

His hips immediately and instinctively thrusted upward at the feeling, while his hand pushed your head downward onto his cock, groaning from pleasure.

You groaned too, although the sounds were getting suffocated and muffled from his pants.

"Okay, enough teasing. Just suck it already," he demanded out of desperation.

He released the pressure from your head so you could breathe better, while you took this opportunity to take the hem of his sweats in your hands. You tugged them down slightly as he lifted his hips, allowing you to slide them lower with more ease. Once they were low enough and the only thing separating you from his cock were his briefs, you placed your mouth back onto his center. But this time, you sucked and licked on the fabric, almost like you were mimicking his same actions from the first time he ate you out.

This made his legs spread even wider, hands pushing your head lower onto him as you suckled onto his cock through his underwear, feeling his arousal spreading throughout the cloth. You could almost taste his pre cum at this point. His whiny moans were getting louder, reminding you that you should probably get to it already, so, you removed your mouth from where it was while you finally tugged his briefs down, releasing his hard dick that slapped against his abdomen with urgency.

It looked so damn juicy and delicious. It stood up straight confidently, with pre cum leaking out of the tip from the hole. Veins covered it from top to bottom, and the observation made your own panties start to dampen.

Without hesitation, you brought your tongue to the tip, slurping up all of the pre cum, and almost rolling your eyes back from the taste. Sure, it was bitter and salty, and not your typical go to appetite, but it came from Jake. And that was good enough.

He cursed from above you as you took the whole head of it in your mouth, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. And once your mouth got used to his size, you reached lower and lower, until the halfway mark hit the back of your throat already. You wanted to take it in all the way, but there was just no way it was going to fit. And Jake knew that. So instead, you took your right palm and grabbed the base of his cock, jerking it off while you bobbed your head on the parts that would fit in your mouth.

Now, this wasn't the best head you've ever gave, you'll admit. It was pretty sloppy, but Jake didn't seem to mind. It was understandable, considering the fact that it was pretty uncommon for the average lady to take 8 inches down the throat anyway.

The sounds of you gagging, which seemed pretty unattractive to you, turned Jake on way too much. Him knowing the fact that your tiny little mouth with a gag reflex couldn't take his big, aching cock—the idea rattled him too much, moaning and grunting as he just watched you try to suck it as best as you could. Trying your best to impress him.

But he was growing impatient. And while Jake knew that you couldn't make it fit, he knew he could. So without any notice, he removed your hand from the base of his cock and slammed his hips upward into your mouth, releasing the most yearning moan out of him.

Your throat burned instantly while Jake began to fuck your mouth. You brought your hands up to his hips, grabbing and thrashing at him, trying to warn him that you couldn't take it. But Jake's head was thrown back so far in pleasure, he had no fucking idea. He just kept your head in place with that grip of his, continuously hitting the back of your throat as your tiny, pink lips jerked him off. Tears began to stream down your face, tasting the saltiness of them as they met with your mouth.

Fuck, this couldn't go on for much longer.

You tried to voice your concerns, struggling to make any sound, desperate to get Jake’s attention, but your mouth was still full of dick. And the vibrations from your attempts to speak just sent Jake even more over the edge, groaning loudly as his eyes shut closed in pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... I'm so close.." he managed to mutter, eyes still sewn shut, hips still fucking up into your face.

You tried to breathe through your noise, knowing now that he was about to finish anyway, but really, nothing was helping and your jaw went slack.

Thankfully, with his hips stilling for just a second, you were able to get a small puff of air, before he was ramming back up and shooting his cum down your throat.

The tangy flavor instantly filled your taste buds, but not for long, as you removed your mouth in no time, gasping for air, as if each breath was your last. Finally being able to breathe normally again, you caught the sight of Jake, still very much cumming, but now with your mouth removed, it was darting past you and onto your face. Some got caught in your eyelashes while some landed on your lips. It was almost ironic how, not too long ago, you'd done the exact same thing to Jake, staring into his face with that same intensity while you sat there panting, trying to catch your breath.

But he wasn't done. He grabbed onto your face forcefully with one hand, opening your jaw back up and positioning it right where his dick was, while his other pumped his pent up cock a few more times, with the last bits of his cum spilling out and landing right inside your mouth. Your body jerked at the taste once more, while Jake just watched you, mouth wide open, swallowing up all of his juices with that look of pure sex and passion.

------------------------

"He did what?" Ava asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

You just shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Yeah, I mean, it was definitely pretty unexpected, but like, it was hot," you admitted, watching Ava's face still struggle to process the information.

"But like, it's Jake we're talking about here. I didn't even know he was freaky like that."

You let out a sigh, brushing the hair from your face. "Yeah well, you can never really know with men," you tried to explain to her, glancing down at your hands. "Anyway, let's talk about something else."

"Okay, well did you ever actually talk to Jake about setting those boundaries? You said you were going to do that, right?"

You froze for a moment, the guilt creeping up your spine. "Well," you started, avoiding her gaze, "I tried... but he didn’t really understand. He kept asking me what he did wrong, and it just felt like he was putting it all on me. Like, I couldn’t even explain myself without him getting defensive." You bit your lip, trying to suppress the frustration. "I don’t know, Ava. Maybe I didn’t handle it right, but it was like he was more concerned about himself than actually listening."

Her expression hardened, lips forming a thin line. "You can’t keep brushing stuff under the rug just because he’s sweet sometimes," she said, her voice firm. "You deserve someone who respects your boundaries, not just someone who only hears what they want to hear."

"I know," you whispered, feeling the weight of the situation. "I just... I don’t want to make things awkward or hurt him. But it’s hard when he just doesn’t get it."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "I get it, but you can’t keep ignoring how you feel just to protect him. You deserve to feel heard and respected, not like you have to change for someone else."

You nodded slowly, feeling the truth of her words settle in. "You're right. I just don’t know how to make him see that."

"Hey, give it some time. He might not understand now, but try talking to him again. I'm sure he'll come around."

------------------------

You and Jake were lounging on the couch in his apartment, your feet tangled in a blanket while a movie played softly in the background. The atmosphere was casual, comfortable. Your thoughts were still lingering on that conversation you had with Ava earlier, and it wasn’t until Jake suddenly perked up that you snapped back to the moment.

“Hey,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a grin. “Heeseung is throwing a party at his place later. Wanna come?”

You sighed, unsure. The idea of a party was definitely not appealing and you weren’t exactly in the mood for one of Jake’s big group hangouts with his friends. “I don’t know,” you said, hesitating. “I’m not really into your friends.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, the soft smile still on his lips. “Why not?” His voice was light, but you could hear the curiosity under it.

You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to explain it without offending him. “Well… they’re not like you. They’re not sweet and gentle.” (yeah right.)

Jake’s expression softened at your words, and he let out a small laugh. “Aww, babe,” he murmured, leaning over and planting a quick kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry. There are gonna be other people there too. I promise it won’t be all my friends. And you’re gonna have fun, I swear.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, not entirely convinced. You liked Jake. He was easy to be around, but his friends? You weren’t so sure. The idea of spending an evening with a bunch of loud, overly confident guys didn’t exactly excite you.

“I dunno, Jake…” you trailed off, still unsure.

Jake leaned in a little closer, his eyes soft and coaxing. “Come on, just for a little while,” he said, his voice sweet, almost pleading. “I’ll be right there with you the whole time. You won’t be alone, I promise. And I finally want to introduce my amazing girlfriend to my friends.”

At that, your heart softened just a little. He was just trying to make you feel included, and part of you wanted to make him happy. He had been so patient with you, always caring and thoughtful. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you were imagining.

You hesitated, glancing at him and meeting his eyes. There was something about his sincerity that made it hard to say no.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in with a sigh, offering him a small smile. “But only because you’re gonna be right by my side the whole time. And if it gets awkward, we’re leaving.”

Jake’s grin widened as he pulled you in for a quick hug, his arms warm around you. “Deal,” he agreed, his voice bright. “We’ll make sure it’s fun. I promise you’re gonna have a great time.”

You felt the tension in your chest ease a little, but there was still a small part of you that wondered if this was a good idea. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing Jake was determined to make it a night to remember.

And a night to remember, it was.

You recalled the booming bass of music, lights flickering and bouncing around the rooms, crowded bodies dancing together. It was your typical college party. The kind of place you’d avoid if it wasn’t for Jake’s hand firmly holding yours as he led you through the crowd. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, standing on the edges, unsure of where you fit in.

Jake noticed immediately, of course, and with his signature warmth, he pulled you closer. “See? I told you you’d be fine,” he said with a grin, his voice almost lost in the loud music, though he kept his tone reassuring. “Just relax. Let’s get a drink.”

You smiled back, trying to push down the knot in your stomach. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jake, or even that you disliked his friends, but the scene was overwhelming. Bodies pressed too close together, the noise echoing in your skull, and the flashing lights making everything feel a little too surreal.

As you followed Jake through the crowd, you caught sight of his friends scattered throughout the room, laughter and conversations blending with the music. Heeseung was in the center, as expected, with a few other guys hanging out by the table, while a couple of girls chatted nearby.

Jake waved to them all as you approached, introducing you with a warm smile. “Hey, everyone, this is _____,” he said proudly, his hand on your back. “She’s a little shy, but I’m sure you’ll love her.”

You offered them a polite smile, trying to steady your nerves. They were all smiling back, their eyes friendly enough, but there was something in the air that made you feel like an outsider. They didn’t know you, not really, and as much as you tried to push that thought aside, it lingered.

“So, this is your girl, huh?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised, man. I thought you were all about the party scene, not settling down.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not about the party scene anymore. I’m all about her,” he said, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you a little closer.

You could feel your cheeks warm at his words, the possessiveness in his tone making you both giddy and uneasy. You smiled awkwardly, trying to stay in the moment, but the eyes of his friends were on you, analyzing, judging, like you were a puzzle they couldn’t figure out.

“Alright, alright, no need to embarrass the poor girl,” another one of his friends laughed, giving you a friendly wink. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you.”

You couldn’t decide if that was supposed to be comforting or not.

You stood there for what felt like probably hours, as Jake chatted away with his friends, eagerly accepting every drink offered to him, while you politely declined each one that came your way. Your eyes started to feel heavy from the monotony, a yawn escaping your lips as you were about to ask Jake to leave. But then, you felt it.

Jake's hand, gripping your ass from under your miniskirt. Out of fucking nowhere.

It was as if all of your senses heightened in that moment, eyes widening, darting around to see if anyone noticed. Thankfully—well, or maybe not—no one seemed to be paying attention. You did your best to force a smile, turning to Jake, but he was lost in conversation, laughing away with his friends, completely ignoring you while his grip just got even tighter, squeezing your ass to the point to where it stung.

You lightly (or not so lightly) tapped his side, trying to get his attention. After a moment, he finally turned his gaze toward you.

"Hmm?" he asked, almost innocently.

You gave him a pointed look, trying to hide the growing frustration that bubbled up inside you. "Jake," you said, your voice low but firm. "What the fuck are you doing."

The innocent expression on his face quickly faded, replaced by a stern glare that made you feel small and uneasy, a wave of fear creeping up your spine. He squeezed your ass again.

"Don't," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation as he noticed you trying to get the attention of his friends.

Then, without warning, he shifted his position. Where he had once been standing beside you, he was now directly behind you, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, possessive embrace, almost as if giving you a romantic back hug. But there was nothing romantic about this. Especially considering how he started to subtly grind himself against your ass. This immediately made every nerve in your body on high alert, your eyes flickering around out of embarrassment. All of Jake's friends were still gathered around, caught up in deep conversation. Some were drinking, others smoking, but they were all very much present. What completely threw you off, though, was how none of them seemed to notice what Jake was doing to you. The dimmed lights and the haze of drunken chatter certainly helped, but still. It was as if they were oblivious to everything happening just a few feet away.

"Jake, you're drunk," you said, your tone getting weaker by the second, but still trying to regain control of the situation. "Let's just go to the bathroom. We can continue in there if you want."

You hoped the suggestion would calm him down, give you both a moment of privacy away from the crowd, but as you looked at his face, the flicker of emotion there made you second-guess your words.

Jake just seemed oblivious to your growing discomfort, or maybe he just didn’t care. He ignored you completely, incessantly grinding his now hard cock into your ass, whimpering lightly right into your ear, where he began to lick and bite.

You felt humiliated at this point. How could nobody see what was happening? Were they just pretending not to notice, or did they simply not care? You looked uncomfortable, giving up on trying to appear normal, and now desperately trying to signal for help, hoping his friends might intervene. But nothing. No one noticed, or if they did, they turned a blind eye.

You didn't understand. Why was he acting like this? Sure, he was drunk, but that didn’t excuse what he was doing. His slurred words, his frantic movements, none of it made sense. He had crossed a line, and yet, in his haze, he seemed unaware of the damage he was causing.

"Jake, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling. You could feel the tears threatening to spill. "Let's just go."

"Shhh.." he whispered into your ear, sucking on it, clearly giving you no mind. His hands roamed from you waist all the way up your dress, until they reached your breasts, groping at the flesh and shoving his hand inside.

You couldn’t take it anymore. With all the strength you could muster, you grabbed his hands and threw them off of you, rushing out of the crowd. Your heart pounded in your chest, and adrenaline surged through your veins as you bolted towards the first door you could find. Without even thinking, you slammed it shut behind you and locked it.

You found yourself in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The lights flickered above you, casting a harsh glow on your tear streaked face. You barely recognized the person looking back at you, disheveled, disoriented, and utterly broken. You felt dirty, like his hands were still on you, even though you were now alone.

The tears came without warning, streaming down your face as you sank to your knees. You tried to catch your breath, but the overwhelming feeling of being violated, ignored, and trapped consumed you. How had it come to this? How could your sweet, loving boyfriend do this you? How could he treat you like this, especially so shamefully, right in front of all his friends? You felt betrayed, confused, and disgusted by the very person who had once seemed so perfect.

You hugged your knees to your chest, feeling the coldness of the bathroom floor seep into your skin, but it didn’t compare to the ice forming in your chest. Jake had always been the guy who made you feel safe, made you feel like you were the only one that mattered. But now? Now it felt like he’d turned into someone else, someone you didn’t even recognize.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping the tears off your face, but they kept coming. The humiliation lingered, gnawing at your insides. The fact that no one else had noticed, or maybe they had and didn’t care, made it worse. It made you feel so small, so invisible. But the worst part? It was Jake, the person you trusted, the one who said he loved you, who had done this to you.

You wished you could turn back time, make it all disappear. You just wanted to feel safe again.

You pulled out your phone with shaky hands, scrolling to Ava’s name and pressing call. The ringing felt like it lasted forever, but no one picked up. You tried again. Straight to voicemail.

It was too late at night. She was probably asleep, unaware that you were falling apart on the other end of the line. A strangled sob escaped your throat as you clutched your phone, feeling more alone than ever. You wanted someone, anyone, to help you, to pull you away from this nightmare.

After what felt like an eternity, you mustered up the courage to leave the bathroom. Your legs felt weak, your body still shaking as you opened the door and stepped out. The music was still blasting, the party still in full swing, as if nothing had happened. You scanned the room desperately, searching for a familiar face, someone who could get you out of here.

But everyone was too drunk, too caught up in their own world to notice the panic in your eyes. You approached a group standing nearby, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hey… can you help me?”

They barely acknowledged you. One girl gave you a fleeting glance before turning away. Another guy just laughed at something his friend said, completely oblivious.

No one cared.

And then you saw him.

He was already making his way toward you, his face painted with guilt, his steps quick and deliberate. Before you could react, he was in front of you, his hands reaching out.

“Baby,” he started, his voice soft, apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

You flinched away from his touch, the sight of him making your stomach turn. Anger, fear, and heartbreak crashed over you all at once, and suddenly, you were thrashing at him, pushing at his chest, hitting his arms. “Get away from me, Jake!” you choked out, your voice breaking. “Don’t touch me!”

But he just grabbed your wrists, his grip firm but not harsh. “Shhh,” he murmured, pulling you outside, away from the crowd. The cold night air hit you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the burning in your chest.

“Let go of me,” you sobbed, twisting in his grasp, but he wouldn’t let you.

Instead, he cupped your face and kissed you, forcefully, desperately. You tried to pull away, but he only deepened it, as if that would fix anything.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s go home, okay?” he coaxed, his voice gentle, as if nothing had happened. “I wasn’t thinking straight. Don’t be mad at me, baby.”

His hands stroked your arms as if to comfort you, but it felt suffocating.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised, his eyes pleading. “I love you.”

And just like that, he was leading you away from the party, his grip firm but careful, as if he hadn’t just shattered your trust into a million pieces.

By the time you both reached his apartment, Jake’s grip on your wrist had loosened, but the phantom weight of it still burned against your skin. As he fumbled with his keys, he shot you a small smile, his tone light, casual, even.

“Just remember, my roommate’s home, so we can’t be too loud, okay?”

You nodded numbly, but your mind spiraled. What would happen if you begged for help, would he even help you? Or would he just brush it off like everyone else at the party?

It seemed so simple, so easy. All you had to do was open your mouth.

But you couldn’t.

The words never came. The air felt too thick, the weight of Jake’s presence suffocating. It wasn’t fear exactly, it was something more complicated, something more deeply ingrained. Like no matter how much you wanted to, your body simply wouldn’t let you.

So when Jake was eventually leading you to his room while he undressed the both of you, stripping you both completely of any clothes, you just let him, too weak to put up a fight, too weak to resist the way his hand pressed against your body, touching you in ways that used to feel so loving and precious, to now malicious and unwanted.

You were just too exhausted to argue.

Your body felt heavy, like you were sinking into the floor with every step, but Jake didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

The door clicked shut behind you.

"Baby, you know I love you," he tried to tell you as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading them wide, just like he did that day.

You couldn't even speak, not able to find the words, or maybe just too afraid to try. Your throat felt tight, like any attempt to talk would only come out as a broken whisper.

He brought his thumb up to your clit, rubbing gently at first, and then speeding up his movements. And as much as you hated it, your body reacted the way it wanted, with your hole getting wetter and your body heating up.

"C'mon, don't act like you don't like it," he said with a smirk, savoring the sight of you beneath him. So vulnerable, so weak. The feeling of control sent a rush through him.

Even with mascara streaks on your cheeks, tear stains, messy hair, dark circles, and swollen eyes, Jake still thought you looked beautiful. To him, you were breathtaking. Raw, unfiltered, completely his. He brushed a strand of messy hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your damp cheek.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are right now," he murmured, his voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite place. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, his eyes dark with emotion.

You wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your body felt heavy, drained. Instead, you just stared up at him, searching his face for any sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But you couldn't see anything.

This new feeling of power he had over you made his dick stand up, as he just stared at you and your emotionless eyes. Your face was sucked of all of it's life as he pushed his cock in, and this is where you realized that your boyfriend was gone. But he was never really ever there though. The man you thought you fell for, it all just crumbled before your eyes, revealing a stranger in his place. The man you thought you knew, the one who made you feel safe, had never truly existed.

"No, no stop. Pull out," you weakly attempted, hoping he would finally listen to you, but to no avail. He just kept on pushing in, sighing and momentarily pausing his movements once he bottomed out, before he was eventually pulling back and thrusting forward again.

"Don't worry, it'll feel good soon baby," he tried to hush you, but it only made things worse, intensifying the panic bubbling inside you as you struggled to push him away, your heart racing.

You shoved against his chest, panic rising as you struggled to break free. Every inch of you screamed to escape, but he wasn’t budging. His grip on your wrists tightened as he slammed you back against the bed. His eyes flashed with frustration.

“This is your warning,” he growled, voice low and threatening. “If you don’t stop, I won’t be nice anymore.”

But you didn’t care. If he wanted to play this game, you were going to play it. You continued to twist in his grasp as best as you could, determined to break free no matter what.

"Stop bitching," He grunted, his grip tightening as you continued to struggle. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, he didn't budge. His eyes burned with intensity as he held you in place, not showing any sign of his movements stopping inside of you. You could feel the tension in the air, but your defiance only grew stronger.

"Okay, that's it."

He seized a handful of your hair, the sharp sting of his unyielding grip making you cry out in pain. With a forceful tug, he yanked you off the bed, throwing you face first into the mattress. His weight pressed down on the back of your head, forcing you further into the fabric, the pressure relentless. You struggled for air, your screams drowned beneath the suffocating pressure of the mattress as you thrashed helplessly. Every movement felt weak, your body’s desperate attempts to break free only muffled in the fabric, leaving you feeling more trapped than ever.

"I told you," he began sternly. "I won't be nice anymore."

Keeping your head pinned against the bed with one hand, he pulled your arms behind your back, his grip unyielding as you fought against him. It was no use though, how the next thing you knew, he was shoving his full length into you all at once.

You screamed, the pain searing through you, unbearable and relentless. Every inch of your body screamed in protest, but the intensity only grew, leaving you feeling powerless and raw as he quickly built up a pace, so violent against your hole and violating your body in one go.

But the more you screamed, the tighter the pressure around your chest became, each gasp for air growing more desperate and shallow. The world around you seemed to blur, the pain and suffocation overwhelming every thought as you struggled for just a breath.

"Yeahhh... that's it," Jake sighed, moaning and throwing his head back.

"I like you better like this," he spat. He just couldn't help it. Your wetness was just jerking him off too good, pussy clenching around his cock, even though you hated every second of it.

That was what made it so intense, his absolute power over you. The way he controlled every movement, every breath you took, leaving you helpless and vulnerable. The fear mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name, but it made the struggle feel all the more real. His dominance was undeniable, and it made your every attempt to break free feel meaningless.

He just kept on going, slamming those muscular hips into yours, that were now probably bruised, weak, and way too sore to even stand up straight. At this point, you were too consumed by the struggle to breathe, your entire focus narrowing to each labored gasp. Everything else faded into the background, the pain, the fear, the fight, until all that mattered was the next breath, and even that felt like a distant hope. You stopped trying to fight it, the weight of it all crushing any will left to resist. It was as if you’d given up, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of being trapped in this moment.

The pleasure you once felt from your boyfriend was now twisted, a distant memory drowned by the overwhelming sensations that felt far from comforting. What had once ignited warmth and connection now left you hollow, the intimacy corrupted by the force of control. Every touch that used to feel reassuring now seemed to carry a weight, shifting from something you craved to something you no longer recognized.

Your vision started to blur, the edges of everything softening as if a fog was slowly creeping in. The sounds of Jake's cock and your arousal squelching together became distant, muffled, like they were coming from underwater. Your thoughts turned hazy, slipping through your mind like water through your fingers, leaving only fragments of clarity. It was as if the world was dissolving into a haze, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, everything felt heavier, slower, more distant.

As your consciousness began to slip away, your thoughts became a fractured blur. You could feel the edges of reality fading, like sinking into a dreamless void. The pain dulled into a distant echo, and the struggle to breathe became a quiet, desperate rhythm in the back of your mind. A sense of surrender washed over you, as if everything was slipping through your fingers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. The world grew darker, quieter, until it all faded into nothing.

------------------------

The days after what happened felt like a blur of weakness, an overwhelming numbness that clung to every part of you. Your body was there, moving, but it didn’t feel like yours. You went through the motions, eating, sleeping, and existing, but the life had drained out of you, leaving you hollow. Jake begged you to stay with him for a few nights after what happened. He told you how sorry he was, how he’d messed up, and promised that he could make it up to you by being the "perfect boyfriend" again by cooking for you, cuddling you, treating you like nothing had changed. He even said he would make sure you felt happy again. And part of you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that things could go back to normal, that somehow you could undo everything that had broken inside you.

But that wasn’t how it worked.

You didn’t know how to explain to Ava what had happened. You didn’t know how to say it aloud, to break down in front of her, to admit how broken you felt, how you’d lost yourself in a way that felt too overwhelming to put into words. It was too much, and the fear of being seen as a mess, of having her look at you with pity or confusion, kept you silent. So you stayed with Jake. You stayed in his room, cocooned in the strange comfort of him pretending everything was fine. He acted like nothing had changed, like the hurt he’d caused wasn’t there, and for a while, you let him.

You hadn’t gone to class in days. The weight of everything kept you locked in that room, a prisoner of your own inability to face what had happened. Jake was your only form of “entertainment,” your only distraction from the mess inside your head, even though, he was the one who planted that mess in the first place. But as much as you tried to convince yourself it was fine, the truth was clear: You were never the same after that night. Jake noticed, though not in the way you might’ve hoped. He noticed the way you didn’t smile anymore, the way your once sharp arguments with him turned into silence. He noticed how you withdrew into yourself, your eyes dull, your words fewer. But he didn’t care. In his mind, you were still his, still under his control, and that was all that mattered. Maybe to him, you were better like this.

Days passed in this strange, disconnected state. You no longer felt like yourself, but you didn’t know how to fight back or even what to fight for. The numbness only deepened, and you wondered if you would ever feel like you again.

Eventually, you couldn’t avoid facing the outside world forever. After almost a week, Jake agreed to let you go back to your place, so you could finally fix yourself up a bit.

You walked through the door of your apartment, expecting to be greeted with concern, with Ava asking where you’d been, why you hadn’t been answering her calls, why you hadn’t been to class. You expected a wave of relief, a safe place where someone might understand. But when you saw her standing there, her expression wasn’t relief, it was frustration, anger even.

She demanded to know where you had been, her voice sharp with worry and annoyance. “You’ve been gone for days. You didn’t show up for class. You wouldn’t pick up my calls, and now you just walk in here like everything’s fine?” Her words felt like a slap. “I was worried sick!”

You opened your mouth, wanting to say everything, everything that had happened with Jake, the way he’d broken you, how trapped you felt, how empty you were now. But as soon as you tried to speak, the words stuck in your throat. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t tell her what had happened. Not like this. Not in a way that would make her understand.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to explain, but the words felt weak, disjointed. You wanted to say that Jake had hurt you, that everything had changed in ways you couldn’t explain. But when you looked at Ava’s face, you saw the doubt in her eyes, the skepticism.

“Jake?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Jake is the nicest guy ever, you know that. Everyone loves him. He’s never even laid his hands on a fly.” Her words were sharp, cutting you off. “I don’t understand. Why would you even say something like that?”

The disbelief in her voice hit you harder than you expected. You wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how much you wished she could see the truth, but instead, you felt smaller. Like a part of you was breaking in front of her.

“I... I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just need help, Ava. Please.”

But she wasn’t listening. She backed away, her arms crossed over her chest as if she couldn’t even fathom what you were saying. “I don’t even know if I can trust you anymore. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Her words cut deep, and with each one, you felt more isolated, more abandoned in your own confusion.

Your heart sank. You had hoped she would believe you, hoped she would understand, but instead, she questioned you, as if what you were saying was the lie. The emptiness inside you grew, as if the world was slipping through your fingers. You were alone, and even the one person you thought would be there for you couldn’t, and wouldn’t understand. You weren’t sure how to fix any of this, or even if it could be fixed. All you knew was that you were broken, and no one seemed to care enough to help put you back together.

You came running back to Jake, broken, sobbing, feeling like there was nothing left of you. Everything you had known, everything you had thought was secure, was falling apart. Ava had turned her back on you, your closest friend, the one person you thought would understand. She didn’t believe you. She wouldn’t listen to the pain you’d endured, wouldn’t see the truth of what had happened. Her trust was gone, and with it, so was any semblance of the life you had before. Your family, too, was slipping away. You had pushed them all so far, not responding to any of their calls or messages, unsure how to explain what you were going through, or if you even could. The space between you and them only grew with each passing day.

Jake shushed you gently, his hands moving to soothe you as if he could wipe away the pain with each soft touch. He pulled you into his chest, cooing softly, assuring you that everything was fine now. You didn’t need anyone but him. He was there for you, he would always take care of you. He whispered over and over that everything would be okay, that the people who hurt you, your friends, your family, didn’t matter. He was all you needed now.

You found yourself spiraling, withdrawing more and more into the safety of Jake's arms. He was the only constant left in your life. The only person who seemed to care, or at least, you told yourself he did. He welcomed you back with open arms every time you ran to him, his hands soothing as he whispered over and over how sorry he was for everything, how he didn’t mean to hurt you. He promised he would make it up to you, and for some reason, you let yourself believe it. The promises of making things right, it felt comforting, like you were returning to something familiar.

And the more you spent time with him, the more you realized just how much of your life was slipping away. You stopped going to class, stopped seeing your friends, stopped reaching out to your family. You let it all go, burying yourself in Jake’s world. He was your everything now, your only source of comfort, your only form of connection.

And when Ava moved out of the apartment a few weeks later, it was like the final piece fell into place for Jake. He wasted no time in moving his things in with you. At first, you told yourself it was a relief. Now you’d have him all to yourself, no distractions, no one to intervene. But as he settled in, things began to change.

Jake’s presence started to feel suffocating. He had you all to himself now, and the isolation was complete. You no longer had anyone to lean on, no one to offer a second opinion, no one to speak truth to your doubts. He knew exactly what he was doing. He watched you, broken and fragile, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping you afloat. He could see it in your eyes, the vulnerability, the desperation. You were easy to manipulate now, and he wasn’t about to let that slip away. Every word he spoke was calculated, every story he spun designed to pull you deeper into his web.

He fed you lies, yes, but they weren’t just lies, they were carefully crafted truths, twisted versions of events that only he could control. He knew exactly what to say to make you doubt everything you thought you knew. With every lie, with every slanted version of reality, he watched your perception of the world begin to crumble, piece by piece.

You remembered that one night, months ago, when Ava had told you about how she kissed Jake during a spin the bottle game. It resurfaced in your mind randomly, and curious to hear his side of it, you hesitantly brought it up to Jake.

But when you mentioned it, Jake’s eyes turned cold for a moment. He shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said, voice tight. “Ava tried making moves on me that day. She was obsessed with me, always had been. But I never really reciprocated. She just couldn’t take a hint, you know?” He said it with such conviction, his words painting her in a way you hadn’t considered before.

The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You started to believe that Jake was the only one who truly cared about you, the only one who understood you, and anyone else, especially Ava, was just a threat to your relationship.

He could see the doubt forming in your eyes, the way you hesitated before speaking, and he knew it was working. He was twisting the truth, slowly erasing the foundation you had built your friendships and relationships on. You were starting to believe him. It made him feel powerful, like he was the one who controlled your reality now. You were his.

And the best part? You didn’t even realize how deep he had dug in. He wasn’t just convincing you of lies, he was rewriting your entire past, making you question everything, even yourself. He was the one who had become your anchor, and the more he spoke, the more you trusted him, even when you felt a strange unease. The more you doubted the people who had once been in your life, the more you needed him. And Jake knew that. He thrived on it.

You didn’t realize it at first, but you started to build an entirely new narrative in your head. You told yourself that Ava had never been your friend at all, that she had been a threat to your relationship with Jake from the beginning. That’s why she was so mad when you tried to tell her what Jake had done to you. She didn’t care about your pain, she was just angry that you had gotten in the way of what she wanted. You convinced yourself that she was jealous, that she wanted Jake all along. The realization felt bitter and suffocating, but you pushed it down. You believed Jake. You had to. He was the only one who had stuck by you, the only one who hadn’t betrayed you.

And so, you cut ties. One by one, you stopped answering your friends’ calls, stopped replying to their messages. You didn’t need them anymore. They didn’t understand. They never would. Your best friend was gone, and with her, your past life. You blocked her number, you blocked all of them. Jake was the only one who remained. Jake was all you had left, and in some twisted way, you were okay with that.

------------------------

As the days turned into weeks, you felt yourself slowly becoming more isolated, but Jake reassured you that this was how it was supposed to be. He was all you needed. And when he started packing up his things to officially move in with you, you helped him, eager to keep the peace, to build the life that seemed perfect. But that’s when you stumbled upon something that shattered everything.

As you were helping Jake pack, moving boxes from his old place into yours, you found something you weren’t meant to see. Buried beneath a pile of clothes and books were items that didn’t belong to him. Items that were yours. Your things—your jewelry, your lost underwear, personal things you had kept in your apartment. You froze, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach as the truth hit you. You’d never realized it before, but now, it was all laid out in front of you.

Suddenly, it all clicked. You remembered how your bedroom door had never been pushed all the way closed that one day, or how something just felt off in the room, like a presence that wasn’t supposed to be there. You remembered all those clothes that had gone missing over the past few weeks, the shirts, the panties, the things you never thought to question before. It was as if everything you’d ignored or brushed off was now flooding your mind, each detail falling into place, connecting the dots in a way that made your stomach drop. The realization hit you hard, like a cold wave crashing over you.

Those subtle changes, those small signs that you had convinced yourself were nothing. Now, they felt like undeniable evidence.

He had been there. He had been in your space, when you weren’t looking. It was all starting to make sense, but the truth was so much darker than you had ever imagined.

You thought you knew him. You thought you had control over your own life. But now, as the pieces fell together, you understood just how much of it had all been carefully orchestrated. You hadn’t just been blind to his manipulation, you had been living in it, suffocating beneath it. And it wasn’t just your trust he had stolen. It was everything.

Jake had been here, in your life, controlling everything in ways you never even realized, and as the truth crashed down on you, you stood there, frozen, not knowing whether to scream, run, or finally face the man who had torn your world apart.

#jakescapes #enha x reader #enhypen #jake fanfic #jake sim smut #enhypen jaeyun #jaeyun x reader #jake fic #jake x reader #sim jake #jake sim #jake sim fanfic #jakesim #jake sim smau

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soulofapatrick · 7 months ago

Text

Between Battles and Breaths - Bodhi Durran x female reader

Summary: You can’t sleep, terrified of your enemy you’re facing tomorrow in the challenges and you find yourself seeking comfort in Bodhi

Warnings: None

Words: 2.6k

Y/N's POV

I can't sleep. The thought of who I’m up against in tomorrow's challenges has kept my mind racing for hours, churning over every possible scenario. My nerves are a live wire, and the gnawing certainty that this is one I’m not going to win gnashes at me. The others are better, faster, more experienced—and me? I’m just trying to make it through each day without making a fool of myself.

My feet drag across the floor as I pace, the creak of the wooden boards below me a repetitive comfort in the stillness of the night. I know I’ve practically worn a path into the carpet by now, walking the same few steps over and over, but it’s better than lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the panic to consume me. With a huff, I finally stop and run a hand through my hair, frustrated.

I can’t do this. Not like this.

Before I can think twice, I grab my flight leathers, pulling them on with shaking hands. It’s reckless, stupid even, to sneak out so close to curfew, but if I stay in this room for one more second, I’ll go mad. The air feels thick, suffocating, and I need to breathe.

The dormitory halls are quiet as I slip out of my room on the first year’s floor, the faint hum of the academy settling for the night, a reminder that I should be too. But instead of heading outside like I’d planned, something draws me upwards, my feet carrying me to the second-year floor before I’ve even realised what I’m doing.

I hesitate at the top of the stairs, wondering what exactly led me here. I’m not even sure how or why I ended up in front of his door—Bodhi Durran’s door. But I stop there, my hand hovering over the handle. The smart thing would be to turn back. He’s the last person I should be bothering right now, with my nerves as raw as they are, but there’s a pull in my chest that won’t let me leave.

Through the narrow gap in the door, I catch a glimpse of him.

Bodhi lies there, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. The dim light from the window barely touches his face, but it’s enough to see the peaceful, almost boyish look that settles over him in sleep. His sharp features, usually so intense, are softened in this moment of calm. Tousled dark hair falls across his forehead, and there’s something about the way his brow is relaxed, the usual storminess in his expression completely at ease, that makes him look younger than usual, more vulnerable.

I should go, I think, taking a step back, but the thought sticks in my throat when he stirs. The slight rustle of the sheets is enough to send my heart skittering, and before I can react, Bodhi’s eyes flutter open, dark and still heavy with sleep.

He squints at me through the dim light, confusion crossing his face as his gaze lands on me standing hesitantly in the doorway. For a second, I don’t think he’s going to say anything at all, and I wonder if I should just leave before he fully wakes up.

But then his voice, rough and gravelly from sleep, cuts through the silence. “What are you doing here?” His tone is low, hoarse, and it sends a shiver down my spine. It’s not accusatory or irritated, just… curious, like he can’t quite believe I’m standing there.

And in this moment, neither can I.

His dark eyes take in my appearance, sweeping over me with a sharpness that leaves me feeling exposed, bare. A crease forms between his brows as he pushes the blankets aside and sits up, the confusion shifting into something else, something that makes my heart beat even faster. Without a word, Bodhi swings his legs over the edge of the bed, the sheets rustling as they fall away, revealing his body—lean and muscular, his chest broad and defined. He’s only wearing boxers, and it takes everything in me not to let my eyes linger on the way his muscles shift under his skin with each step as he moves toward me.

I feel breathless, like the air has been sucked out of the room, replaced with a thick tension that presses against my chest. My throat tightens with nerves, and I force myself to breathe, but it’s hard to focus when he’s so close, when the sight of him leaves my thoughts scattered, my body anxious in all the right ways.

Bodhi stops in front of me, his presence overwhelming, his gaze dark and steady. For a moment, neither of us says anything, and the silence between us feels charged, like the crackle of a storm about to break. Then, slowly, his hand reaches for mine.

The moment his fingers wrap around mine, it feels like I’ve been set on fire. His hand is large and calloused, rough from training and fighting, yet somehow warm and steady. My pulse quickens at the simple touch, the anxiety in my chest twisting into something deeper, more intense. His thumb grazes the back of my hand, sending a shiver racing up my spine, and I bite my lip to keep from gasping aloud.

“Come on,” he murmurs, voice still thick from sleep, tugging me gently into his room. The door closes softly behind me, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet space. His room is dimly lit, the moonlight slipping through the curtains casting long shadows across the floor. It’s sparse, with only a few personal touches—a pile of worn books on the bedside table, his boots kicked off haphazardly near the window—but it feels so undeniably him. Practical. Focused. Just like Bodhi.

He leads me toward his bed, his hand still holding mine, and the closer I get, the more overwhelmed I feel. The air between us is thick with unspoken words, a tension that leaves my thoughts spinning. I’ve always had a crush on Bodhi—who wouldn’t? But I never thought he’d look at me like this, with an intensity that makes my knees weak, that leaves me wanting something I can’t quite put into words.

“Sit,” he says softly, guiding me to the edge of the bed. My legs feel shaky as I lower myself onto the mattress, and Bodhi moves to his knees in front of me. The sight of him kneeling there, his face inches from mine, sends a sharp ache of longing through my chest. It’s a position that feels intimate, almost too intimate, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch him, to run my fingers through his dark, tousled hair and pull him closer.

I’m still trying to process what’s happening, still trying to catch my breath, when Bodhi’s hands reach for my boots. He works in silence, deft fingers unlacing the leather with a skill that speaks of years spent in flight leathers himself. When he finally pulls the boots off and sets them aside, his hands return to me, grazing the skintight leathers of my pants legs as he slides his palms slowly, deliberately, up toward my hips.

The touch sends a rush of heat through me, my pulse quickening as his fingers trail higher, a soft, feather-light touch that makes my breath hitch. His hands find their way around my back, moving with purpose but not rushing, until his fingers find the lacings of the dragon armour my brother made for me before I walked the parapet.

He undoes them with practiced ease, and I feel the tension in my chest loosen as the bindings fall away. The weight of the armour lifts, but it’s nothing compared to the weight in my heart, the yearning that’s only grown stronger the closer Bodhi gets.

I’ve wanted him for so long, and now, with him this close, his touch so careful and his gaze so intent, I can’t help but wonder if he’s wanted me too.

Bodhi stands and lifts the now-loosened corset armour from my shoulders, handling it with surprising care before placing it neatly on the chair by his desk. The room feels heavier in the quiet after the sound of the armour settling, my heart beating wildly in the stillness. When he turns back to me, his eyes drop to my waist, his fingers hovering just above my hips. His gaze flickers up to meet mine, and for a moment, everything stills.

He hesitates, his touch light, asking for permission without words.

I nod slightly, barely noticeable, but Bodhi catches it, and as soon as he does, my hips rise instinctively. His fingers deftly find the buttons of my flight leathers, working through each one with an unhurried precision that makes my pulse race. The heat of his touch burns through the leather, and when he finally shimmies the pants down my legs and to the floor, the sensation is almost overwhelming—his hands, warm and firm, feel like fire in my veins.

Once I’m free of the leathers, Bodhi moves away from me, crossing the room toward the washroom. I watch him through half-lidded eyes as he disappears for a moment, only to return with a worn shirt in hand. He approaches me with a soft look in his eyes, holding it out like a peace offering.

The shirt smells like him. There’s a faint woodsy scent, warm and earthy, like pine and leather, mixed with the sharper tang of the wind that always seems to cling to him after a day in the sky. Beneath it all, there’s something uniquely Bodhi, something comforting, steady, that grounds me even as my mind whirls with everything happening between us.

He turns his back to give me some privacy, and I waste no time. My shirt and bra come off quickly, discarded without thought, and I pull his shirt over my head. It’s too big, falling to mid-thigh and swallowing me in its softness, the fabric still warm from his skin. I take a breath, letting the scent of him wrap around me like a second skin, comforting in a way I didn’t expect.

By the time I’m done, Bodhi is already shuffling around me, his movements slow and sleepy, but purposeful. He climbs back under the covers and without hesitation, wraps a strong arm around my waist, pulling me toward him. The warmth of his body presses against mine, the heavy weight of his arm a reassuring presence as he draws the blankets over both of us.

He’s close—so close I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back, the heat of him chasing away the lingering chill in the room. His nose brushes against the back of my neck, and I shiver, not from cold but from the sensation of him so near. Bodhi’s thumb rubs slow, soothing circles along my waist, and it’s enough to make my body relax, melting into the space between us.

“What’s got you up in the middle of the night?” he mumbles, his voice soft and rough with sleep. His breath tickles my neck, warm and steady, and I can’t help but smile faintly at the quiet concern in his voice, even half-asleep.

I don’t answer right away, too lost in the feeling of him holding me, the weight of his arm a comfort I didn’t know I needed. The anxiety that had gnawed at me all night is still there, but it’s quieter now, softened by the way Bodhi holds me like I’m something worth protecting.

Finally, I murmur, “Just… tomorrow.” The words are barely more than a whisper, but Bodhi seems to understand, his arm tightening slightly around my waist in silent reassurance.

Bodhi pulls me even closer to his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat resonating against my back, anchoring me in this moment. His voice, still laced with sleep, drops to a low murmur, sending soft vibrations through me. “You’ve got this, you know,” he mumbles, warmth pooling in his words like honey. “You’ll kick their asses tomorrow.”

His confidence in me feels like a shield against the anxiety that had clawed at me all night. I can’t help but smile, feeling the tension in my chest ease just a little.

“And if that other guy tries anything outside the rules,” he continues, his voice dipping even lower, “he’ll have to deal with me.” There’s a protective edge to his tone that makes my heart flutter, the notion of Bodhi standing up for me sending a thrill through my veins.

He rests his chin atop my head, a gentle weight that feels comforting and safe. “You’re stronger than you think,” he adds softly, each word wrapping around me like a warm embrace. “Just remember that, and you’ll be unstoppable.”

In his arms, with his sweet reassurances washing over me, the fears that had once felt so insurmountable start to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of him, feeling utterly enveloped in his warmth and unwavering support.

Just as I’m falling asleep in, Bodhi is nudging me gently, urging me to roll over and face him. I comply, shifting so that I’m looking directly into his dark, expressive eyes. His hand finds my cheek, his touch warm and inviting, and heat floods my skin at the contact. It’s as if his palm ignites a fire against my cheek, sending a shiver of warmth spiralling through me.

He studies my face for a moment, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips, and then he leans down, brushing a barely-there kiss against my lips. It’s sweet, feather-light, and it leaves me wanting more. My heart races, and before I can think, my hands find their way into his dark curls, relishing the silky softness of his hair between my fingers.

But it’s that soft kiss that sends all coherent thoughts flying from my mind, leaving me breathless and craving. Bodhi deepens the kiss, tilting his head to fit us perfectly together, and the world around us fades away. The taste of him is intoxicating—warm, with a hint of mint and something uniquely Bodhi that sends a spark of electricity through me.

His lips move against mine with a gentleness that contrasts the intensity of my racing heart, each brush igniting a heat that spreads through my entire body. It’s as if he’s exploring, learning every curve and contour of my lips, and I’m lost in the sensation.

Every nerve ending tingles as he kisses me properly, the connection between us growing more profound with each passing moment. There’s a sweetness to the way he cradles my face, a tenderness that makes my heart swell. I can feel his warmth radiating through the kiss, wrapping me in a cocoon of safety and longing.

When he finally pulls back, our lips lingering just a breath apart, I can’t help but chase his mouth for just another taste, a whisper of connection that leaves me craving more. The air between us is electric, thick with unspoken feelings, and in that moment, I know I’ve stepped into something beautiful, something I never want to end.

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kitten4sannie · 1 year ago

Text

ᴀ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ/ᴀᴜʀᴀʟɪꜱᴍ ➠ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: personal trainer! yeosang x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: you love your weekly visits with your personal trainer. he always stretches you out just right.

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: mean(ish) dom! yeo, sub! reader, 15 year age gap, seduction, teasing, sir kink, dirty talk, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, auralism, groping, half dressed kink ig?, cumming untouched, oral (receiving), fingering, squirting, brief deep throating, unprotected sex on a yoga mat, creampie

a/n: i done lost it guys TT just imagining having messy sex with mean dilf yeo somehow adds and takes off ten years of my life at the same time like some pemdas shit aughhh… i hope you enjoy this filthy mess <33

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?” you gasped into your phone, holding a hand against your chest, personally offended that your boyfriend of six months would suggest such a thing. “And what about my personal trainer? He’s like fifteen years older than me. Baby. You really think I would do that to you?”

“Y/N, I’ve seen him with my own eyes. I know you’re fucking him, and I’m over it. It’s over,” your boyfriend repeated into your ear, just ripping the bandaid off then and there.

“You can’t do that. We’re not breaking up,” you scoffed, wrapping a lock of your hair around your finger, your lips forming a pout. “Babyyy, come on, you’re being so dumb right now.”

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he quickly said, before hanging up.

“Ugh.” Pissed off, you tossed your phone onto your canopy style bed, knocking one of your limited edition plushies off and onto the carpeted floor in the process. You turned to your full length mirror, glaring back at your scrunched-up face, your hands formed into fists near your tiny tennis skirt. “If he thinks I’m fucking my personal trainer, then I’ll fuck my personal trainer, alright.”

And so, your petty, self-righteous plan of spiteful revenge was set. You were a smart girl. You knew exactly what to do to get your ridiculously sexy personal trainer to break his professional and moral codes. All you had to do was wear something impossibly tight without anything underneath and moan a little louder when he was stretching you out. It was as simple as that. Right?

࿏࿏࿏

Yeosang was everything a woman desired, all the way down to his persistent ability to respect them. He respected you, almost too much in your opinion. Here you were bent over in a ‘stretching position’ right in front of him, wearing a too-tight pair of gray leggings and the tiniest sports bra known to man, knowing damn well he could see the way you had your tits all pushed together for his viewing pleasure in the mirror, yet his eyes remained on yours.

“How does it feel, Y/N? Are you tight anywhere like last time?” Yeosang asked, his voice, like dripping honey, filled your body with a comforting warmth. He studied your stretching form, one hand resting comfortably underneath his scruffy chin, the other on his hip.

Your knees trembled slightly underneath you, urging you to return to a resting position, eventually sitting on your knees. You looked up to him, your eyelids lowering slightly, a pout on your glossy lips. “Really tight, yeah. I think I need help, Yeo…”

“Then, I need you to lay down on your back for me,” he replied in a soft, though stern tone that made your cunt pulse, getting down onto his knees beside you with a small grunt. “Show me where, Y/N. You can do that, yeah?”

Just as you laid down on the yoga mat, a fresh wave of slick slipped out of you. Damn him. He should be getting worked up over you, not the other way around. How would it be an act of petty revenge if you were soaking wet just from hearing your personal trainer’s absurdly sexy voice?

“Nnngh, it’s right here…” you exhaled, feeling out your stiff hips, looking up at him past your lashes. “I need some stretching out, I think.”

“Mm, I see. Well, let’s get you taken care of,” Yeosang nodded as his lips curled up into a somewhat mischievous smile, positioning himself so that he was in between your spread legs, wrapping his hands around one of your thighs and gently pushing it down towards your body, causing you to gasp. “Just relax for me, sweetheart…that’s it…”

You were about to lose your mind, trying harder and harder not to let out a pornograhic moan the more Yeosang pushed his body weight onto you, your lower halves practically flush together. You wondered if he could feel how wet you were through your leggings, knowing there were no panties to catch your slick. “Yeosang…fuck…”

Yeosang pushed down a little further, nodding his head apologetically. “I know, sweetheart, I know it hurts, but it’ll be worth it,” He gave you a charming smile, his fingers squeezing into the flesh of your thigh, pushing you down further, until the ache of your muscles matched the ache inside your cunt. “Still hurts?”

“No, it feels good now, keep going, Yeo,” you sighed out, your eyes glazing over with lust, gently running your hand over his, sensing a hint of desire when it began to peer through Yeosang’s own lingering gaze, his hands moving towards your other thigh, beginning to give it the same treatment.

“That’s a good girl,” Yeosang praised innocently enough, pressing your other thigh down against your body, leaning his body weight on you just enough to drive you mad, you cunt clenching around nothing. His other hand slipped around your opposite hip, expertly massaging it around with his calloused fingers. “Mm, you’re almost there. Just a little more…”

“Yes, sir,” you sighed out, swearing you heard Yeosang’s breath get caught inside his throat just as soon as you felt something hard and heavy forming against your lower abdomen, hoping you weren’t just imagining it with your overheated brain. “I’m still so tight, Yeo…be gentle…”

Yeosang bit into his bottom lip, coming to terms with your current shared predicament, wondering if you were both on the same page, but not fully knowing if he should cross several professional boundaries or not. Regardless, here he was, already pressing his stiff erection into his very young, very horny client’s cunt through her soaked leggings. What did he have to lose? His license maybe, and the respect of his peers perhaps, but it was worth the risk, especially now that most of the blood in his body had left his brain and filled up his heavy cock.

“Gentle, huh?” he chuckled deeply, pulling back slightly to admire the sight of your soaked cunt through your slick-stained leggings. “Sure you don’t want it rough, considering the way you’ve been dripping for me this entire time?” He ran two fingers down the legging seam that separated your puffy folds, rubbing them into your clit, making you let out another gasp. “Thought you could hide this from me, did you? I could feel how wet you were getting…”

“Fuck– Nooo, Yeo, I just wanted you to see it for yourself,” you answered whinily, spreading your legs open just a little wider, grabbing at the waistline of your leggings to make the shape of your cunt more pronounced, your pout returning. “Do you like it, sir?”

“Jesus, of course I do. My slutty little client shows off her wet cunt and thinks I wouldn’t like it? Huh? Did you think I would be able to hold myself back?” Yeosang shook his head out of disbelief of his insane luck, taking his time running his calloused fingers up and down your clothed slit, admiring the way the material formed to the shape of it.

Fuck it. You were too desperate now to reclaim any semblance of control over the situation, your act of personal revenge long forgotten, your mind only having enough space in it to think about Yeosang and getting used by him.

“I did it because I want to be your slut, Yeo. Please? Can I? I’ll be so good for you.” You began to move your hips along with his movements, in desperate need of more friction, more pleasure at your disposal, begging him with your glistening doe eyes.

“Of course you can be my little slut, princess. You already are. I mean, just look at you, whoring yourself out for your personal trainer like this,” Yeosang groaned out, just as he lifted your ass up into the air by your hips, licking his lips. “I’ll make you mine, sweetheart.” And with that, he tore your leggings open just enough to expose your leaking cunt, leaning down slightly to take a deep inhale of your warm, flowery scent. “God, you’re completely soaked for me, Y/N. You’ve been wanting this so bad, haven’t you? Just dreaming about my tongue inside this tight hole of yours, huh?”

“Yess, oh my god, please eat me out, Yeo, I’m begging,” you squeaked out from below him, already teary-eyed, ready to beg on your knees for the older man’s attention if you had to.

Yeosang took an experimental lick up your cunt, already collecting enough slick inside his mouth for him to swallow down happily, idly working your clit with two agile fingers. “Do you play with your little clit like this and think of me before you go to sleep at night, Y/N?” he asked huskily against your cunt, beginning to lap at your leaking hole, teasing it with his tongue. “Huh? Do you think about me stretching you out with my tongue? With my cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moaned, just as Yeosang’s tongue fully slid inside you to rub at your inner walls, tongue-fucking you in a ravenous manner, his fingers still flicking at and squeezing your clit, your juices dripping down the lower-half of his face. “Fuck…! Yeosang…!”

“Uh-huhhh…” he moaned into you, sending pleasurable vibrations through your cunt, eventually replacing his tongue with two more fingers, fucking you so quickly, you couldn’t even get a chance to breathe. “That’s it, baby, you’re so close, aren’t you? Going to squirt for me, yeah? Is my slut going to cum all over my face?”

“Yes–fuck, Yeo–” you could barely call out, your muscles tightening suddenly, your lower half pulsing more and more until you let out an involuntary cry, clear liquid squirting out of you and pouring onto Yeosang’s face, spilling onto the yoga mat, and soaking into the material of your torn leggings, some dripping along your abdomen.

“Oh my god, that’s a gooood girl, look at you…” Yeosang praised shakily, gently slurping up your squirt from your twitching cunt, moaning into it, his softening cock resting against his cum-covered inner thigh. “What a good little slut you are, Y/N.”

“Good enough for cock?” you simply asked from below, reaching up to spread your cunt apart further for him, all while gazing up at him with barely open eyes, still swimming in your post orgasm bliss. “Wanna be stuffed, Yeo. Please?”

Your adorably filthy behavior alone made Yeosang harder than he’s been in a long time, making him want to join in on the fun. He wasted no time positioning himself so that his knees were on either side of your head, slowly lowering his joggers until his long, veiny cock sprung out in front of your face. “I think you should drool on my cock for me first, princess. Maybe take it down that pretty throat of yours. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir,” you obeyed, opening your mouth wide enough to take what you could of Yeosang’s impressive length inside, gagging immediately when he began to fuck into your throat, dribbles of spit leaking down your chin. “Mmmfff…”

Gutteral groans routinely escaped Yeosang’s throat, continuing to pump himself into your mouth, unable to release himself from the tight, warm confines of your now bulging throat. “God, you’re taking me so fucking well, princess. Wish I could watch you swallow my load down…” He suddenly pulled out, resting the tip of his heavy cock on your saliva-streaked lips, letting you lazily lap up the beads of pre-cum that spilled from it. “Gotta fuck you, though. I know that slutty cunt needs to be filled with cock.”

“Fuck, yes, sir, give it to me,” you purred against his cockhead, sucking and slurping on it like it was candy, only stopping when he pulled away to lower himself down your body, until his cock was slowly pressing into your willing hole instead.

“Doesn’t matter whose cock, huh?” he asked in his low, honey-like voice, wrapping his fingers around your hips, massaging into them like before, only this time he was sliding you onto his pulsing length little by little until he had completely bottomed out inside.

“Mm-hm. I love cock, especially yours, Yeo,” you admitted breathily, the shame you felt only increasing your arousal, barely able to hook your thighs around his waist when he began to quickly pump himself into you, your hole swallowing his thick cock up each time.

“You’ll let a–fuck–older guy…someone who’s your personal trainer…nnngh…use you like their own personal cum dump and–” He pulled out suddenly, only to plunge himself deep into your cunt, making you cry out. “–pump you full of his cum as long as you’re getting stuffed and bred. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Uh-huh…!” you cried, unable to keep yourself from moaning and whining each time Yeosang slammed himself into you. “Fuck me like the slut I am��Please, sir…”

“Oh godd, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Y/N, gonna fuck your goddamn brains out,” Yeosang gruffed out in between brutal thrusts, resorting to grabbing and holding your wrists down so that you couldn’t get away from him, drilling his aching cock into your squelching hole like he was getting paid to do it, which he technically was. Life was good for Yeosang.

Yeosang did indeed fuck your brains out. He fucked you until you didn’t know which way was up or down. The only thing that brought you back to reality was something warm and thick gushing inside you, Yeosang’s calloused hand holding your own down against your abdomen, his nasty words barely reaching your hazy mind.

“You feel that, princess? All the cum I’m filling this whore-hole up with?” he asked you softly in between harsh pants, a few beads of sweat sliding down his sharp chin and landing onto your flushed face.

You could hardly move, let alone form a coherent sentence. “Yes, yes, yes…”

“I want to see it…Want you to see what I’ve done to you.” Yeosang slowly pulled out of you, milking the tip of his cock, groaning softly, leaving a few more spurts of his load on your puffy cunt, a few drops of it getting onto the torn hole inside your leggings.

He gently turned you around, so that you were facing the mirror on the wall, reaching past your spread thighs to spread open your cunt with his thumbs, laying his lips against your ear, “Look. You got cum leaking out of you, your leggings are all torn up, and you got squirt all over the mat too...Do you see what a mess you’ve become for me, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I see, Yeo. I love it…” You gazed at his hazy reflection in the mirror with hearts in your eyes, wishing you had seduced your personal trainer at an earlier date.

Inhaling your flowery scent once more, Yeosang pressed a kiss onto your cheek, nuzzling it. “That’s my girl.” He tilted his head to the side, his hands rubbing into your sore hips. “Same time next week?”

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chillian-murphy · 8 months ago

Text

Let Your Big Brother Take Care of You

SUMMARY: While visiting your stepbrother at college, you have a hard time falling asleep after some drunken mishaps. He helps you out.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS/ADDITIONAL INFO: Smut 🔞, dubcon, stepcest, intoxication, fingering, comfort sex kinda??, gratuitous mention of Taco Bell

Beta read by @sasybanana

Actually visiting with your step-brother had been the last thing on your mind when you told your parents that you would be visiting him this weekend. Sure, you got along fine, but you barely knew each other and it felt like he was moving out for college as soon as your families joined. Instead, you were hellbent on finding the best partying and hooking up opportunities his film school had to offer. Framing it as a sisterly visit and a chance to learn about campus life was purely an excuse to convince your parents to let you travel on your own, which they seemed to buy as you were headed off to school yourself next year. Besides, Neil had an off campus apartment you could crash at, which would be cheaper than a hotel.

He greeted you with a hug as you entered and set your stuff down, instantly being assaulted by the scent of unwashed laundry and old weed smoke. Still, it was comfortable enough, and was a nice taste of freedom from your mom’s house.

“So, my baby sister wants to visit me for the weekend, for reasons not at all related to my school’s reputation as a party campus?” He smirked as you situated yourself.

“Of course! Just like how my big brother spends all the money he gets from our parents on textbooks and tuition.” you shot back.

“Touché. Well, whatever trouble you’re determined to get into, fuck, I dunno, be smart about it. Use condoms, don’t get drugged. Don’t drink so much that you puke, or at least, try to puke somewhere other than carpet.”

“Wow… so caring.” you rolled your eyes as you headed to the bathroom to get ready for the evening. You snatched a flyer off of a phone pole for a house party, and the directions you got off google said it was only a few blocks away. As soon as you had your heels and your lashes on, you were off.

**********************************************************************************

Stumbling back to Neil’s apartment with your heels in your hand, the night had been a bust. You finished too many mystery drinks too fast and ended up puking in the lap of the one guy who was interested in you, locked yourself in the bathroom to cry for the better part of an hour, and bolted for the door as soon as you pulled yourself together. Thank fuck Neil had the first apartment on the first floor, otherwise you might not have been able to find it in your impaired state.

The door was unlocked, and Neil hadn’t moved from his place on the couch in the hours that you had been gone, presumably wrapped up in whatever it is that he does in his spare time (Watch movies? Play video games? Jerk off? You really didn’t know). This was fine, you really didn’t need him noticing you at the moment. You tried to enter quietly, but tripped over yourself as you moved.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

Neil rushed over to you to make sure you weren’t hurt. Unable to form words, you started crying again when you met his gaze, big fat mascara tears rolling down your cheeks. Even as he helped you to stand, you wobbled on your way up and had to lean on him for support.

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Dunno… a lot.” It was true, you had chugged whatever you were handed and helped yourself to a variety of half-finished cups that were abandoned by their owners. You had never drank this much before, and had no idea how much was too much until it was too late.

“Shit, um, let’s get you to the bed. The room is yours tonight, don’t worry about it. Do you think you can walk that far?” There was genuine concern in his tone, even if he was a bit panicked and clueless. He looped an arm around your waist and guided you as best he could to the tiny room. Your flop onto the twin bed wasn’t exactly graceful, but landing on a mattress was about a thousand times more comfortable than landing on the floor.

As soon as Neil turned to leave, you began fighting your way out of your tight, itchy dress. Unfortunately, the zipper was stuck (damn cheap clothing) and the garment was too fitted to pull over your head. Refusing to spend any more time stuck in scratchy fabric hell (Seriously, Forever 21, who sells unlined sequined dresses?), you continued wrestling with the zipper and wiggling to find a better angle until you rolled off the bed and landed with a thud. Not knowing what else to do, you shouted for your stepbrother.

The worried look on his face quickly turned into an eye roll as he entered the room and saw you on the floor again.

“So are you like… determined to spend the whole night down there? Undeniably attracted to shitty carpeting? Horny for the floor?” Having a laugh at your drunken expense might not have been the nicest thing for Neil to do, but you were being such a handful tonight.

“I can’t get my dress off,” you sheepishly mumbled as you avoided his gaze. “The zipper’s stuck and I need your help.”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” Neil soothed as he knelt down to meet you on the floor. “If anything, I’m flattered… Usually I have to buy a girl dinner before she even thinks of asking me to undress her.”

You shot him an unamused glare, but nonetheless turned and leaned towards him so he could reach the zipper. His touch was warm and gentle as he fiddled with the impossibly tiny hook-and-eye clasp atop the zipper, one hand gently pressed against your upper back to steady you while the other went to work. Before you knew it, the dress slackened and you were able to free yourself from its confines, modesty be damned.

“A tiny little dress and no bra? You really were planning to have fun tonight.” You were still turned away from Neil and couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

“It has built-in cups, pervert!” you huffed as you rushed to cover yourself. You groped around for a t-shirt or something before remembering that you were in an unfamiliar room and not at home. “Get out, I just wanna sleep.”

“That doesn’t explain the little lacy panties, though.” Neil let his eyes trail over you before tossing you one of his own shirts. It was true, you had gone out partying with the hope of hooking up as quickly and anonymously as possible, but you weren’t going to admit that. All you wanted was to gain a little sexual experience of your own before heading out to college, but now the only boy to see you naked was your weird stepbrother. “And I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You can’t even stand and I’ve had to help you up twice. You’re too much of a mess to be alone.”

He helped you onto the bed again, only this time he climbed in behind you after hitting the light. The bed was small enough that there was almost no choice but to snuggle up to him, using his shoulder as a pillow. As weird as the whole situation was, it felt nice having him there, like a grounding tether against the spinning sensation in your head.

“For what it’s worth, I thought you looked really cute tonight. Before all the puking and crying and falling, I mean.” He chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. As sweet as the gesture was, you couldn’t ignore the growing gurgle in your stomach.

“Neil… I want Taco Bell.”

“I’ll buy you all the Taco Bell in the world tomorrow if you settle down and go to sleep.”

“Okay…” you buried your face into the crook between Neil’s neck and shoulder as he pulled you closer and idly rubbed your back. You couldn’t help but moan softly at the sensation, which Neil tried his hardest to ignore.

Had you been a little more awake or a little more sober, you might’ve noticed the hitch in Neil’s breath as his hand trailed up and down your back, or the way his hand soon opened into a flat palm and started exploring lower, dangerously close to the waistband of your panties. Instead, you continued to lay silently, dozing off as his hand inched lower.

Eventually, his hand made its way to your ass and cupped the supple flesh. Feeling emboldened by your lack of response, Neil began to squeeze and knead. This made you squirm away, but in doing so, you were met with the perfect amount of friction as your clothed pussy rubbed against Neil’s thigh. Neither of you had realized just how closely you were snuggled together until now, when it dawned on you both what was happening.

Part of you panicked, part of you realizing that this was wrong through your drunken haze, but another part of you only cared that you were being touched, and it felt pleasurable. That was the whole reason you made this trip, right? you rationalized to yourself as you attempted to grind against your stepbrother’s thigh a second time.

Instead of being met with the delicious friction, you felt Neil shift beneath you. Did you fuck this up? Were you just imagining his hand on your ass? But before you could worry any further, he was rolling you onto your back with his thick, firm leg pressing between your thighs and spreading them, and the unmistakable poking of his erection against the spot where your hip met your belly. He pushed his thigh against you, inviting you to grind it.

“Is this what my horny little sister needs? Can’t fall asleep without coming?” His voice was low and husky, in equal parts from being half asleep and his obvious arousal. You were starting to transition from drunk to hungover, feeling more drowsy and dizzy than anything else, and the most you could answer with was a pathetic little whimper as he nudged you.

You rubbed yourself against him as best you could, unable to find just the right angle from the new position you were placed in. In a fit of frustration, you tried pushing Neil off of you so you could rub yourself with your hand, but he was deceptively strong and had you pinned.

“Neeeeeeeeeiiiillllll” you whined, once again wondering if this was all a mistake, maybe you should just try to fall asleep and forget this ever happened. Forget the whole night ever happened. Change your name, move across the country, and never talk to anyone who witnessed tonight ever again.

“Shhhh, it’s alright, just lie there and let your big brother take care of you.”

Just lying there was about all you could do as Neil snaked one of arms between your legs, stroking your folds through your panties a bit aimlessly before gathering the courage to reach beneath the cloth and explore further. After a bit of awkward poking around, he found your clit and began circling it gently with his fingertips, eliciting another whimper, this time of pleasure.

“See? I know exactly what you need. M’gonna play with your little pussy until you relax and fall asleep, like a good girl.” His fingers began teasing your slit, tracing up and down its length without daring to breach inside. It never would have occurred to you that Neil would know his way around pussy, he never brought any girls home when he lived with you. He must’ve gotten a lot of practice after moving out, because the way his fingers were just barely ghosting over you was driving you crazy in a way you couldn’t understand. You wanted him to stop, you wanted him to continue exactly what he was doing, you wanted him to start giving you more. All you knew was that you wanted him, and for him to keep touching you.

As if he could read your mind, he spread your innermost lips and plunged two of his fingers inside. The stretch was sudden, but not at all unwelcome. You were wet enough for him to thrust his fingers in and out of you easily, spreading your slick wherever he touched. As soon as he began alternating between fucking you on his fingers and roughly toying with your clit, you started seeing stars.

“You like that? You like me finger fucking your tight little pussy? I wish I could see it, I bet it's all pink and cute, like your nipples. I bet you’ve never even taken a cock before."

Too drunk, too horny, and too tired to form words, the most you could do was shyly squeak in affirmation.

“Next time I’ll have you bounce on my cock so I can watch your face as you come. Or maybe I’ll eat you out so I can really get to see how cute your pussy is. Or maybe you’ll just want to pay back the favor I’m doing you now and suck me off.”

Next time? You hadn’t considered something like this happening again, or even the fact that you’d have to see him again. In mixed company. With your parents around. Would he fuck you in your childhood bedroom while everyone else was downstairs cooking dinner? Or would he keep your liaisons a dirty little secret that only happened away from home?

You didn’t care. You were coming from your stepbrother’s touch, in your stepbrother’s bed, far away from anyone else you knew. You felt your stomach tighten and your toes involuntarily curl, much stronger than you ever felt sneakily rubbing yourself in the shower. Thank fuck you were in a dark room, because you swore you could feel your face going all stupid.

You must not have realized how much you were panting and clenching around his fingers, because Neil seemed to know exactly how close you were and began whispering in your ear, encouraging you to come. You could barely register what he was saying, you were so lost in the sensation of his breath on your neck and his hand on your cunt.

Your orgasm finally took hold, and you could hear yourself babbling in pleasure but had no idea what you were saying, if you were even forming coherent words, as the pleasure ripped through your body like an electric shock. After the initial burst, you felt your body relax in a way you didn’t know was possible, releasing tension you didn’t even know you were holding. You swore you could feel yourself melting through the mattress before realizing that no, that was just sweat.

Noticing that you were lying there like a limp noodle and no longer squirming and moaning, Neil rolled off of you, withdrawing his hand from your panties. His fingers were completely soaked with your wetness, and while his initial instinct was to wipe them off on his shirt, roll over, and go to sleep, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was rock hard. In a stroke of genius that would soon lead to literal stroking, he realized he had the perfect lube on hand.

He shoved his drenched hand down his boxers and began tugging his desperate member, softly grunting in rhythm with his pumping fist. Part of you felt bad that you weren’t helping, you had kinda forgotten that Neil was a complete person with desires of his own and not just a machine to get you off, but you were cozy and half asleep and he seemed to be handling the situation well enough on his own. At least, well enough that he was coming all over the front of his shirt.

He carefully pulled his soiled shirt over his head and wiped off his hand and what was left of his mess before tossing it on the floor and reaching for the blanket that had been kicked to the bottom of the bed amidst all the excitement. You felt yourself being tucked in as you gently dozed off, snuggling into Neil’s side as soon as he laid down beside you.

Yeah, you were going to visit your step brother a lot more often now.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis x y/n #watching the detectives

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axeeglitter · 2 months ago

Text

The Grand Solis Hotel

Julian had always been the loudest of the group, the one who kept everyone’s spirits high with his boundless energy and relentless optimism. The early summer wind was tingling their faces as they were standing in front of the rusted main entrance portal. After a night of drinking and deep talking about their future, Julian and his friends decided to go for a walk in the neighborhood. For Julian, his future was already planned. Golden boy of the high school, a girlfriend captain of the cheerleaders, already recruited in one of the best colleges, and his dad paid for all his expenses. Yes, Julian was promised for a perfect life already planned and paid for. But deep inside, Julian didn’t feel like that. He was sure he was not good enough. Not strong enough in the gym, not fast enough on the field, not smart enough for studies, not beautiful enough for modeling, never enough. In reality, Julian was just like every young adult, too afraid to be his true authentic self. So, he hides behind bad jokes, being loud, a cocky manly self-centered attitude and then if something went wrong, flashing his perfect smile and face to get away from problems. Yes, Julian knew he could have the world in his palm if he wanted to, but he didn’t know if that’s what he really needed to be truly happy.

The sun casted a warm glow above the hills. Julian and his friends were talking and laughing while walking in the empty streets when they found themselves in front of the imposing rusty portal. “What do you say guys? You feeling adventurous?” said Julian in a cocky tone as he already opened the door and walked in the abandoned garden full of statues, overgrown weeds and a broken fountain that must have known better days. One by one, all his friends followed him and soon were all in front of the closed entrance door of the Grand Solis Hotel. The once-grand establishment had been a jewel of the city in the 80s, a hotspot for luxury and glamour. Decades later, everybody forgot about it and it was left to rote after a weird disappearance in a suite on the last floor. No one saw that climbing actress ever again after that terrible night. And a couple of months later, the hotel was closed definitely. Now, it was nothing but peeling wallpaper, rotting carpets, and echoes of a golden past long gone and forgotten.

As they moved through the darkened hallways, their flashlights cutting through the dust, they marveled at the remnants of a forgotten era, faded signs, chandeliers hanging by a thread, and furniture covered in ghostly white sheets. “This place is sick bro!” exclaimed Julian as him and all his friends were gagged by the beauty of this place. Everything looked so old and dusty and left there to rote abandoned and untouched. No one entered this place in years and everything was in perfect condition, except for the ravage of years that took a lot on them. “Why did they abandon this place?” asked Brad in a clueless tone. “I heard there was this young promising actress in the 80s.I think she was called something like Mary, Morny...” “She was called Lutecia Marty you moron!” cut Jackson “In the 80s, the Grand Solis Hotel was the place to be. Everybody was coming here to be seen. And one night in 1984, this girl, Lutecia, she disappeared in her room. No one never saw her again after this night. No corpse was found, nothing, she just, POOF, vanished” continued Jackson miming an explosion with his hands. “After that, the hotel closed. It was rumored to reopen, but it never did. And no one ever came back in there.” Finished Jackson still looking at the grand staircase leading to the ballroom, not taking a look at his friends. But after a couple of seconds of silence, he finally realized all of them were looking at him gagged. “What?! I love history and Miss Crawly told us this story last year in class!” he answered. “Anyway…” cut Julian laughing a bit with the others after Jackson’s history monologue “What do you guys say about exploring this place a bit? I’ll go on the upper stairs, see if we can drink one last beer on the roof by the rising sun or something. See you in a bit!” finished Julian as he started walking the staircases trying not to destroy anything of value on his way. After a bit of exploration, Julian found himself in front of a big doubled doored entrance with a little sign above it reading “Grand Solis Presidential Suit”. The room was like a preserved time capsule. Deep brown and gold wallpaper, a velvet couch with a dusty glass table in front of it, a minibar with empty glass bottles, and a bulky, wooden-framed television sitting atop a polished cabinet. Even though those were old, Julian could see that those must have been the most expensive things available in the 80s.

“Damn, this place is stuck in time,” Julian chuckled, running his fingers over the dust-covered nightstand as he explored the room a bit. His eyes landed on an old remote waiting on the dusty coffee table, still there as if waiting for someone to pick it up and start the tv on. “This shit is so old and dated. Did they even have color back there? Funking cringe!” he said as he fell sitting on the couch and snap on the.

Julian grinned, pressing a few buttons not expecting anything to happen. But to his surprise, he heard a faint static noise and then the television screen flickered to life with a burst of static. At first, nothing but snowy white noise filled the screen, the crackling sound oddly loud in the silence. Then, something shifted as Julian saw a weird intricate pattern appearing in a glitched movement on the screen. Something looking like a red Nordic glyph appearing and disappearing from the screen in a glitched way before disappearing for good.

The static morphed, shapes appearing, colors bleeding through. A scene unfolded, warm golden lighting, extravagant décor, and dramatic music swelling as if from another world. A typical 80s telenovela, vibrant and alive, appeared on the screen before him. “Of course, it’s a fucking telenovela, why wouldn’t it be?!” he said laughing with himself. “Fucking cringe! The over acting, the attitude, the costumes, the scenes. Damn I’m sure I would be a better actor without even trying!” he continued as a young women appeared on the screen with a wave of dramatic music starting. “Yea no, I’m out of here!” he said as he jumped back up and started walking in the minibar direction to see if there were still some alcohols in there. But as he turned is back to the television still running in the background, he felt a weird sensation invading his lungs. The air on his forearms raised at attention as he felt like something just had shift in the room. Out of nowhere, the television sound stopped and the static came back stronger then ever, getting louder and louder as for the first time in a long time, Julian was scared. As he turned his head back to the television, he saw the screen glitching in a frozen frame as weird white and black glitching goo poured out of the screen. “The fuck?!” screamed Julian as he started to run out of here, but as he grabbed the handle of the door, he felt something grabbing his ankle and pulling him back in the room. Julian tried to hold on, to open the door, the scream for help, but the pull was way too strong as he felt his fingers getting sweatier and sweatier with every passing seconds. Then, in a last scream, he lost his grip and fell back on the carpeted ground as he was dragged back to the tv. His nails tried to hold on to anything, splinter started to enter his calloused hands but nothing was strong enough to hold him back and stop his abduction. The closer he was getting to the tv, the more the sounds were becoming louder and louder. The colors were getting more vivid, brighter. And as his converse touched the screen, it felt like gravity didn’t exist anymore, the whole room started to spin around him. Julian couldn’t understand where was the roof or the ground. Colors were flashing in front of his eyes and every time he tried to scream, no sounds were able to escape the vortex swallowing him. Then, in a last attempt to get free, Julian threw the torch lamp in the static tentacle that grabbed his ankle, only to scream even more when he realizes his ankle was no more, instead, all he saw were pixels of saturated color glitching away from his disappearing ankle like radio interreferences and climbing higher and higher on his legs “NOOO!! Please let go of me!! PLEASE!!!” He screamed once more as he saw his jeans turning into glitching static swallowed by the vortex, leaving his legs totally naked as the interferences climbed higher above his knees. Julian turned his head back in front of him to scream once more, but he gasped in terror when he saw a new static tentacle throwing itself at his head. Julian lost his vision and soon he stopped screaming as he fainted into darkness.

Darkness. Silence. Weightlessness. For a moment, there was peace and Julian felt like floating in the sky without a single worry in his head.

Then, sensation returned all at once. The cold air against his bare skin, a strange tightness around his limbs, the rough texture of something binding him and pressing against his wrists and ankles. His lungs burned as he sucked in a breath, but it tasted wrong, stale, artificial, tinged with an electric hum that settled deep into his core and made his whole skeleton vibrate in fear and static.

His eyes snapped open, and he realized he wasn’t in the hotel room anymore.

His head turned left and right as he started to scream for help, but his voice came back in his hears echoing into the empty void surrounding him. Julian was bonded, floating in an ocean of darkness glitching in black and white static noise.

Julian tried to move, but his body didn’t respond the way it should. His limbs were held fast, spread out like an eagle, restrained. He struggled, twisting against whatever was keeping him in place, but his body felt sluggish, uncooperative. His muscles flexed as he tried to free himself from this situation but nothing, he tried succeeded in freeing him. “HELP ME! IS THERE SOMEONE IN HERE?! HELP!!” Julian screamed one more time as he felt the atmosphere starting to shift around him, like if someone or something was lurking in the shadow and waiting to jump on him. For the first time in his life, Julian felt powerless and his jockey mask started to crack as his fears of not being strong enough came back to him. He was stuck and at the mercy of the situation, naked in this cold empty void and bonded in place by an invisible force.

Out of nowhere, a burst of distorted applause filled the void, stretching unnaturally long, warping and bending in on itself before fading into a low hiss. The sound came from nowhere, yet it surrounded everything.

Then, a voice cut through the static. Crisp, smooth, detached. A voice made for television, too perfect, too polished, too rehearsed.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, tonight, we bring you something truly special. A fresh contender. A bl… blblbl… BLANK slate, ready to be shaped. Some may call it an hoHOhOh…onor. Others, a privilege. But here on Prime Time Rebirth, we simply call it what it is, a new beginning.”

Julian was frozen in fear as he heard this voice coming out of nowhere saying that while glitching like a poorly coded radio frequency. A choked sob broke through the droning static as Julian felt the restraints bonding him reacting to the voice he was hearing.

“Our lucky candidate has already made it tHroUgh the prrrrrrrrre…liminary selection process. Impressive, considering how last participant was 41 seasons ago. But, oooOOoOoOf course, selection is only the beginning. The true test is yet to come.”

“WHAT THE FUCK! I’M NOT PLAYING THIS STUPID GAME! LET ME GO! WHERE AM I?!” screamed Julian in a ragged cry, raw with desperation. “S-SOMEONE! PLEASE! LET ME OUT!”

The voice continued, unaffected by Julian’s begging to be freed.

“As always, transSformatiOn is key. A star isn’t simply bOrn, they are made. And so, our cOntEstant will uNderGo the necessary… addDDdDdjustMents.”

Julian saw the void in front of him glitch and for a moment, he saw something, a place that shouldn’t exist. A stage, barely holding form, its edges dripping into static like melting film. Rows of audience members sat in perfect stillness, their faces hollow, clapping in sync. The host stood before them, but his form flickered, distorted, as though he was both there and not.

“And nOw, let the gAMe begins!! What dooOOoOoo… we have here…? Let’s se, se, se, see, a young man, an athlete I see. OH! The gold, gold golden boy… He hates being the center of attention even though he is everyone’s favorite player… And looks like he has a true self esteem problem but doesn’t show it… Well! What do you say friends? I think the choice is clear, right?...” continued the host waiting for the applause of his shadowy audience before glitching away once again, leaving Julian only with the echoes of the applause resonating around him with the forced laugh of this creepy host.

Julian thrashed, the unseen restraints holding firmly in place. “No, NO! What are you talking about?! Stop this! Please, I don’t…”

The stage appeared again from the darkness, appearing fractured and distorted before merging together into its original form. The audience was moving with broken movements as the host was walking smoothly around the scene, his old and dated microphone in hands.

The static swelled, stretching out into a crescendo of distorted applause. Then, with an abrupt glitch, the stage flared into overexposed colors, sickly yellows, piercing reds, neon blues, all too bright, too saturated. A massive game wheel was now in the center of the stage, towering above Julian. The wheel looked like it had been plucked straight from a garish 80s game show, covered in flashing lights and bold, cartoonish symbols instead of numbers. Each section pulsed and shimmered, shifting between words and icons as if the wheel itself couldn’t decide what it wanted to display.

With a burst of flickering interference, the host glitched out of frame, vanishing in a smear of pixels, only to reappear right next to the wheel in a single, jagged frame skip. His presence snapped into place with a harsh buzz, like an old VHS tape struggling to play.

Julian screamed again, thrashing against the invisible restraints. “NO! STOP IT! LET ME GO! I’M NOT PLAYING THIS…PLEASE!” His voice cracked, but the host gave no indication that he even heard him.

Instead, he placed one hand on the wheel, his too-perfect smile never wavering. “A classssss…ic spin for a classic gaAaAAaaAAame! Oh, it’s been so, so, so, so, so so… sooooooo long, hasn’t it, folks?” He gestured to the audience with a grandiose sweep, and they erupted into thunderous applause, cheering, whistling, clapping in perfect synchronization, their movements too uniform, too mechanical. Their enthusiasm was pure, unfiltered joy.

The host chuckled, his laugh warping into a chorus of overlapping echoes. “Now, now… what fate awaits our dear contestant?” He gripped the wheel and gave it a mighty spin.

The wheel whirred, its segments blurring together in a dizzying cascade of symbols, twisting arrows, theatrical masks, interrogations points, mirrored faces… Julian’s breathing quickened, his heart pounding as he watched the fate-deciding spin.

Click. Click. Click…

The wheel slowed.

One final click.

It landed on a space marked with two bold arrows, one pointing up, the other pointing down. The host turned back to the audience, and the crowd exploded with even greater excitement, their cheers reaching an unnatural, deafening volume.

“Oh-ho! Now this is something special! Ladies and geeeeEeEEeentlemen, we haven’t seen this result in quite some time!” The host’s voice crackled, his excitement amplifying with every word.

Julian struggled, shaking his head wildly. “NO! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? STOP THIS! PLEASE, PLEASE, DON’T DO THIS!”

The stage around him flickered and distorted away. The audience pulsed, their forms breaking apart and reforming like a glitching program. The host raised his arms triumphantly, reveling in the moment and everything started to glitch in interferences as the stage, the wheel and everything vanished in black and white pixels. Julian gasped, his body shaking wondering if what he just saw was an invention of his mind or the product of some alcohol poisoning. But in the blink of an eye, the stage reappeared in front of him, this time the wheel was gone, the audience was clapping once again in a synchronized way while he could clearly hear screams of joy and laugh echoing around him even though they shadowy faces were neutrals. Julian suddenly realized the host was no where to be found, but lost in the cacophony of the audience screams, he could clearly hear his charismatic and deep alluring voice, getting closer and closer. And in a jolt, the host glitched back right in front of Julian, for the first time facing him directly in the eye as he opened his mouth once again to talk.

“Let’s the ga, ga, game begin!!” he concluded as he turned back from the audience to face Julian for the first time. It felt like he was looking directly into his soul and Julian felt like all of his deepest secrets were reading and exposed just as much as his exposed naked body. Julian felt a chill run down his spine as he realizes the host had no face, only a shadow figure with a creepy smile and a glowing red rune on top of his forehead, the same exact run as he saw glowing on the screen when he turned it on. Then the host and everything behind him started to disappear in an interference pattern, only the creep smile and the rune remained before disappearing them too, swallowed by the static engulfing his exposed body.

“WAIT, WAIT, NO! NO, PLEASE! DON’T LET ME HERE! HELP ME!!” he screamed once more in a last attempt to get someone’s or one of his friend’s attentions, and Julian was alone.

As he tried once more to wiggle out free from his static bonds, Julian felt a movement starting to happen around him. The bonds around his ankles and wrists spasmed a bit as he felt a pulling sensation in a rotative motion starting to take place. He saw his vision starting to rotate as he felt the blood coming to his head. Soon, Julian’s position was inverted as his head was now hanging down while his feet were above his head and bonded in the air.

Julian dangled in the void. His body hung upside down, his head tilted toward the abyss below, while his legs remained above, stretching upward as if gravity had flipped. He tried to move, to twist, to turn, but unseen forces held him in place, an invisible current pressing against his chest and limbs, keeping him locked in an unnatural position. His arms felt weightless, detached, like they weren’t his own, and yet the pain was real, every nerve alight with agony, like static electricity crackling through his bones.

“PLEASE!” Julian screamed, his voice echoing in the void one more time as he was slowly getting out of breath, the blood starting to get to his head. His body trembled with panic, but he couldn’t move. He could barely even breathe. Every inch of him burned with something unnatural, something wrong.

Then, out of nowhere, Julian started to feel a weird invading sensation starting to appear around his wrists where the static was holding him in place.

A sharp tug shot through his arms. His limbs contorting, stretching in ways they were never meant to. A deep, searing heat spread through his shoulders and hips as they twisted, morphing, rearranging into something they weren’t supposed to be. Julian screamed in pain and terror as he heard his bones snapping out of place and breaking before reforming into stronger ones. Tears poured down from his eyes and ran down his forehead before falling from his head into the void to disappear in the static as he saw in horror and pain that he couldn’t move his shoulders has freely as before. Worst, the restraints around his wrists had moved for the first time and he could see his hands starting to join in a neutral position under his head. As they moved, he felt his shoulders crack one more time as he felt the bones morph one last time into something denser and bigger before growing longer and longer, giving his biceps a disproportionate length. Julian looked down as he felt the sensation starting to invade his hands now. His fingers burned, the bones compressing, reshaping, until his knuckles cracked and popped grotesquely. The sensation was sickening, and when he tried to curl his hands into fists, he realized he couldn’t anymore. His fingers were thicker, shorter. The digits were fusing, reshaping into something rounder, stubbier. His palms stretched wider, the skin roughening, callouses forming along the edges as his thumbs receded, repositioning at an unnatural angle in a symphony of bones fracturing and merging back together. Julian choked back a scream as he realized what was happening, his hands were becoming feet.

“WHAT THE FUCK! NOOOOOO!”

His arms stretched, elongated even more into powerful limbs. The muscle shifting, thickening and swelling under his skin. The tendons tightened, pulling into a structure far too familiar yet entirely wrong, his arms were becoming legs. He could feel the shift of balance, the change in strength, the unnatural sensation of weight pressing down as his body forced him into this upside-down reversal of form. The agony was unbearable, his mind struggling to process the way his nerves rewired themselves, reconnecting joints in a way that should have been impossible. And for a moment, Julian felt like he was four footed. He tried to move his transformed fingers in front of him and his brain couldn’t understand the message as he felt and saw both of his right foots starting to react. He wanted to throw up from the alien sensation but he was too out of breath from the painful changes to even succeed in that.

Julian was still trying to understand what just happened when the sensation started once again, but this time around his ankles. His legs, his true legs, felt as if they were collapsing in on themselves. The bones cracking and snapping out of place before fracturing and merging back into a different form. Julian was screaming in pain as tears kept running down from his eyes only to fall on his newly transformed feet. The muscle mass shrank in his calves, condensing and reshaping into something leaner, something more flexible. His knees bent in the wrong direction and Julian could feel the pressure rising higher and higher before he felt a snap and then no pressure anymore. His knees had broken and reformed into his brand-new elbows. His calves tightened and restructured as his feet splat apart, toes elongating, stretching into something more dexterous. He could feel the air against them, feel the way his skin rippled as the transformation finalized. His whole body was spasming unwillingly from the new rerouting of his nervous system. Julian could feel his toes turned into finger brushing against each other in a new unnatural sensation. He couldn’t even find the words to describe what he was feeling. His feet had become hands.

Julian’s breathing was ragged, his mind a mess of horror and disbelief. His entire body had been flipped, reversed, turned into something unrecognizable. Julian felt tears continuing to run down his cheeks only to meet pearls of sweat on his forehead and sliding through his damp hair hanging in the hair between his new calves. His brain kept on coming back and force between thinking this was a nightmare and then the realization that every time he tried to move his feet, his hands in front of him were now reacting.

A deep shudder ran through his core as an unbearable heat pooled in his lower abdomen. A sharp, pulling sensation spread from his scalp down to his now hanging dick, as if something was being forcefully rerouted. Julian’s stomach twisted as he felt his head starting to burn from a fever he couldn’t control. It felt like his brain was on fire as he felt pearls of sweat starting to agglomerate on his forehead. At first, Julian thought that his head had been hanged above his head for way too long and his brain was not supporting the blood pressure anymore. But then he felt a violent spasm around his neck as his collar bone shattered before reforming into a new bone where his new legs anchored themselves in perfectly. With a new violent crack, Julian screamed as his neck hanged even lower. He tried to move his neck but it felt like he didn’t have any bones anymore in his neck. His head balancing left and right as the sweat kept on falling. A huge tingling sensation then started to invade his scalp as Julian watched in gasp as his hair started to fall from his scalp and disappear in static when they reached his feet. His hairline was receding faster and faster, the strands thickening, curling, and moving, no, not moving, relocating. At the same moment, Julian started to feel an invading sensation at the base of his neck. The more his hair fell, the itchier the sensation became. His hair was drifting upward, dragging warmth and an unbearable, suffocating musk with them. The scent was overpowering, raw and potent, filling his senses with something primal and unfamiliar. His own hair, his old hair, was no longer atop his head. It had become something else entirely, something far worse. Pubes. Julian’s face burned with an unfamiliar sensation, his skin tingling as pressure built in. His cheeks, his nose, his mouth, everything starting to burn from this uncontrollable fever as Julian was still trying to comprehend what was happening to his face. He felt his skull snapping on itself, his nose cracking and snapping in and out of place. Then to his horror, as he tried to scream once more, he tastes a weird salty thig in his mouth as it was getting harder and harder to articulate sentences. The liquid was musky and salty, almost like… “No” gasped Julian as his nose snapped out of place one last time before disappearing into his retracting skull. His hands were now feet, his feet hands. And his head was baked into a musky manly scent. Julian realized that as his body was forced inverted, his face was now in the position of his cock. “NOOOOOOOO” he screamed one more time as his face finished changing into a thick 8 inches soft cock. A pearl of precum rolled down his new sensitive forehead turned cockhead as his head retracted back on itself to disappear behind a thick sleeve of protecting skin. Julian could still taste and smell everything, worst he could see his new feet perfectly as he was forced to hang from his new position. Watching as pearls of precum kept on coming out of his mouth without him being able to stop them. Something his old 4 inches cut cock never did before. Then, he felt a growing sensation at the base of his new neck as 2 giants nuts pushed themselves from his skin to hand low. His new head was resting against them as a pungent musk started to bake his soul into a nightmare.

Julian was stuck there, hanging from his new pelvis and forced to watch his new feet forever as he felt precum dripping down from his ever-opened mouth while he felt his new nuts working hard to always have sperm in them. He couldn’t think properly anymore, his brain, or what was left of it assaulted by the hormones. At the same time, his cock started to spasm too. Julian couldn’t even watch what was happening anymore but as the sensations kept on getting more and more present and alien, he kept on hearing snapping sounds. And soon he felt his cock starting to move into an unnatural way. His pubes started to burn as he felt a new invading burning sensation appear on top of his cock head. Then out of the blue, he heard something, a voice. Not the host’s one and not his either. With a new snap, he heard it again, this time accompanied with a sensation of pleasure invading his soul. It felt like he was cumming with every sound pronounced by this voice. Julian tried to move but he couldn’t anymore. He was forced to hang down leaking on his feet as the moves kept getting wider and more intricate. And soon, the sensation and the snapping sounds stopped. Once again, he was left totally bonded and restrained without a clue of what just happened to his cock. Julian felt the restraints around his wrists and ankles starting to let go. He tried to move but he realized he couldn’t anymore. He still had the sensations of his inverted body but he couldn’t move anymore. His soul was now bonded to this new way more muscular body. He tried to scream but only succeeded in releasing more precum around his foreskin. Then, a sensation invaded his body once again. This time it started around his new belly button. His skin darkened, the pale tones of his former self replaced with a deep, sun-kissed tan. The transformation surged through him, spreading warmth and an oppressive, earthy and spicy scent across his body. Thick, dark hair sprouted along his arms turned legs, coating his limbs in a layer of coarse, masculine growth. Julian saw his body hair starting to grow and his skin tan and didn’t understand what was happening to him. Worst, as the sensation invaded him, he felt his new prison starting to chub up. He felt his foreskin starting to roll down his face as for the first time, he clearly saw again the void around him. His sightline kept on getting higher and higher until he was rock hard and forced to look up where his cock used to be, but instead he faced something else. There in place of his cock was now a thick muscular neck topped by a manly perfectly sculpted face of a Latino men. His eyes deep brown, his nose wide and manly, his brows thick and perfectly shaped, his mouth thin, his smile was pearly white. On top of this head, a thick forest of dark wavy hair was shining naturally. Above his upper lip, a thick mustache of a dark hair was positioned and a goatee was finishing to sprout around his manly chin. Julian wanted to scream in terror as he realized his cock was now a face. The changes kept on assaulting his body as his armpits prickled with new density, his chest finished to expend and grew broad and sculpted, a fine dusting of dark curls forming over his pecs. The overwhelming heat mixed with an undeniable, musky presence, clinging to him, defining him.

Julian wanted to scream as the changed finalized around his new body but he had no control anymore, he was a passenger now as he felt the treasure trail of hair grow under his new shaft, tingling him just enough to send shivers of pleasure in his new body. And there without him being to control himself, he felt his new body start to spasm harder and harder. He tried to suppress this sensation invading his core but he couldn’t and out of nowhere, he felt like throwing up, except only thick white sperm came out of his mouth to run down his sensitive veiny dick body and dry out in what used to be his hair turned pubes. Julian was still spasming blank when he felt static swallowing his body once again. For a brief moment, he thought he was freed from this nightmare and he’ll be able to find a way to get help from someone. But his release was brief when instead of seeing the warm sunrise light, he felt fabric materialized against his skin, snug and shimmering, clinging in all the wrong ways. A sheer blue sequin shirt draped over his chest, barely concealing the definition beneath. The matching pants, equally tight and revealing, formed around his lower half, leaving nothing to the imagination. There was no underwear. Just a thin layer of material between him and the world. His feet, his new, foreign feet, slipped into polished leather shoes, shining under the invisible light of his prison. The bonds that had held him vanished, yet Julian remained frozen.

His body was no longer his to command. He tried to move once again, to twitch even a finger, no, a toe. But nothing responded. He was locked inside himself, a prisoner in this alien, unfamiliar body. “SILENCE. MOtoR, AC, AC, AC… AcTIoN!”

Julian heard echoing around him as he was trapped in darkness under the newly materialized pants around his cockhead. He recognized that voice, it was … the host!

Julian’s nightmare deepened into something far worse than he had ever imagined. His body moved, but not by his own will. Each motion was exaggerated, unnatural, as if he were a marionette in the hands of some unseen puppeteer. His arms, no, his legs, swung with a confidence that did not belong to him, his feet stomping onto the floor with purpose, each step sending a jarring shockwave through his stolen frame. But everything was wrong. Twisted. Inverted. His hands, now transformed into grotesque, unfamiliar manly and musky feet, twitched feebly, confined in their leather prison of shoes, squeezed uncomfortably into a shape they were never meant to take. They ached, every nerve firing off protests at their cruel new function, forced to support the entire weight of a body that no longer felt like his own. The unnatural sensation sent waves of nausea crashing through him, a torment that only grew worse with every movement.

For Julian, it felt like a perpetual handstand, a sickening reversal of everything he had ever known. His balance teetered on the edge of disaster, as though at any moment, the foreign frame he was trapped in would collapse under the unnatural shift of gravity. He felt his muscles adjust in sickening positions. Julian tried once again to assert back dominance of his body but he couldn’t control anything, forced to hang against his hairy shaft and leaking on what used to be his left biceps as his pubes were baking in manly Latino musk. For him, it was an endless torment, each forced motion pulling him further from his own identity, further from everything that made him who he was. His mind screamed against the horror, but there was no escape, no way to fight back against the sick joke reality had become.

Then, out of nowhere, Julian tried once again to find power to control his body and he realized that he was starting to gain back control in his right hand. A toe spasming, a finger moving. With some time, he could break free and he would…

“¡Ay, senorita! Looks like you are way too guapa to be alone, ¿verdad?” The deep, confident voice rolled out like a song with a thick Spanish accent. It was playful and filled with a swagger that made Julian’s very being convulse in horror. It felt like something was exploding inside him, unbearable jolts of sensation surging through his trapped consciousness. For Julian it was too much. With every word, it felt like he was having the best orgasm of his life. In the blink of an eye, he lost his will and felt himself leaking abundantly on his hairy calve. Julian couldn’t think anymore, and when he came back to himself, he realized he couldn’t feel his body anymore. He tried to move his hands but couldn’t feel them at all. I was like a connection had been lost. He screamed again mentally one more time, pleading and begging to wake up from this nightmare but instead, all he heard was the host’s voice talking directly to him. “Don’t, don’t, don… don’t worry Julian. You are taken care. No more massssssssks to wear. You can be your true se…lf and what everybody is expecting from yooooouuuuu…uuu!” As the voice died into static noise, Julian couldn’t focus anymore. Every time he heard the words coming out of this Latino lover mouth, it felt so good and he was leaking precum abundantly. “Please, I don’t want to… keep doing … this. So … good” So good? He realized what he just thought and was distressed as he realized he didn’t even try to move anymore. He was just standing there. His sensitive cock head scratching on the hairy thighs with every step and precumming with every word spoken. “Please, I can’t do this anymore. Please Mas…” Julian was cut by a new voice. This time something deep and sensual, something he already heard before. “Cono! You really are horny today, Junior!” as the sentence ended, he felt a feeling of proudness invade his body as he felt seen for the first time ever. But as the calloused hand grabbed him through the pant to adjust him, Julian came back to himself. “What the fuck?!” he suddenly realized that for a brief moment, he forgot everything. His struggles, his life, his friends. Everything. Worst, he didn’t even care. “No, no, no, no, no!!!” he pleaded mentally one more time as more precum leaked from his tip “You don’t understand, if I stay like that longer I will…” Once more, Julian was cut through his train of thoughts as Fernando talked to him directly in thoughts. “Listen Junior, we have one more scene to shoot and then I promise to take care of you all night long!” As he finished this sentence, Julian felt a pressure rising in him and felt ecstatic. Suddenly he couldn’t control himself anymore as he started to spasms as pictures of his new body flashed in his head. Pictures of him naked, his master’s hands gripping him, getting edged for hours, being sucked and plowing holes, any holes. With the pictures implanting in his head, the feelings came back flooding in him and suddenly he realized he didn’t want to fight his master, he was here to serve him, and he was his favorite toy to play with. Julian stopped fighting as a new pearl of precum licked from the tip of the uncut Latino cock, this time, it was a thicker one as it contained Julian’s humanity. It fell down the legs, following the already precum path well traced by Julian’s mental fight and ended on drying on Fernando’s hairy legs, forever assimilated by his new master.

Fernando felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders as he adjusted one last time, feeling his cock finally stopped spasming. He took a breath as he was called back for his scene. “¡Hermanita! ¡Déjame decirte algo! No hay mujer en el mundo que pueda resistir mi encanto, ¿me entiendes?” His voice was cocky, flirtatious, dripping with an exaggerated bravado that made Julian sick. He was performing. Acting. Playing a role in something he didn’t understand but couldn’t escape. The world around him felt alive, vibrant, but utterly fake. Julian, or rather Fernando Junior, stood there asleep in pleasure as he was waiting for Fernando’s manly and oh so smooth hands to finish his day and finally take care of him. Maybe if he was kind enough, he’ll be able to play with a wet toy until he can’t hold anymore.

At the Grand Solis Hotel, Julian’s friends were finally done exploring the place and decided to climb upstairs to join Julian on the roof for one last beer before the start of university. As they reached the last floor, Jackson saw the double doored entrance of the suit and called for Julian, but no one answered. When they were about to leave, he heard a static noise followed by someone talking. Him and the others started to walk only to see an old retro tv turned on and glitching between statics and an old prerecorded telenovela from the 80’s. A handsome young man, dressed in dazzling sequins, his dark curls framing a cocky smirk. He moved with confidence, his chest puffed out, his eyes twinkling with charm as he leaned against the salon’s counter, winking at a passing woman and adjusting his thick cock under his pants. As the men adjusted, Fernando Junior saw a window appear in front of him. He saw a weird looking dusty room. It vaguely remembered him something but he couldn’t truly understand where. Then he saw some men appear in the window too. For a moment Junior felt like it was something important, but just when he was about to remember the face of one of the young men, Fernando grabbed him adjusted himself before putting a hand through his hairy pubes and scratching it then smelling it with a cocky smile. The smell sent pheromones directly into his blood stream and Junior was once again assaulted by the hormones as he chubbed up a bit thinking about the night that was about to happen for him. “¡Hola guapa! ¿Te gustaría venir a divertirte aquí con Fernando Junior?,” Fernando declared, grinning wide as he kept on adjusting his leaking cock through his pants.

Jackson and the others busted in laugh as they took the remote to turn the tv off before walking back to the stairs.

Inside the screen, Julian was no more, only Fernando Junior remained, screamed in anticipation and pleasure. But no sound came out, only beads of precum licking permanently through his tip and soaking into his favorite blue sequin pants. Junior was so lucky to have such a hot master…

As the TV turned off, a new glyph appeared on the back of the tv, just above one of a star, this one looked like a football. Both of them glowed in red as the tv turned back on one last time before shutting off, waiting for his next participant.

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Hey guys!

Hope you're having an amazing day! Most of all, I hope you enjoy this brand-new story I brainstormed with @tf-vigilante.

As always, let me know what you think of it, and feel free to send me messages or DMs if you have any ideas. I read everything. If your idea sparks something in me, you might just see it turn into a full story! ;)

Have a great day, and I'll see you all soon!

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