#square halo rings

[skzdarlings]

chill | the threesome series ; skz ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

masterlist.

threesome series part 4/4. long awaited finale lol.

summary: when a lie about a fake boyfriend spirals out of control, your friends take it upon themselves to help.

pairing: hyunjin/reader/jeongin content info: friends to lovers romcom. fake relationship trope. sharing a bed trope. lots of teasing and bickering and indignant exclamations. some bossy dom!hyunjin and sweet jeongin. reader is described with a bigger chest. kissing w people watching. sex toys, dacryphilia, no mention of protection, threesome, explicit sexual content word count: 8440 words.

enjoy <3

-

Your bottom lip is already wobbling when you click call.   You sprawl on your belly, front-down in a frilly pink bed in your childhood bedroom.  You are visiting your parents in the countryside, miles away from your apartment in the city and miles away from your best friends. 

You are calling them now, desperate for their friendly faces.  Your boys are the first ones you call in any crisis.  You don’t know what you would do without them.  Just the thought has you sniffling despondently. 

After a few more rings, Jeongin and Hyunjin answer one right after the other.  Your phone is filled with three little squares of faces, theirs smiling and yours utterly miserable.      

You look at those smiles and promptly burst into tears. 

“Ahh!” Hyunjin wails. 

“Ohh, whoa, what!” Jeongin says.

Both of them look concerned, all scrunched up brows and frowning faces.  At least you think so.  It is hard to see through your tears. 

“Baby, baby,” Hyunjin says.  At the same time, Jeongin asks, “What’s wrong?”

You cry a few more weepy sobs, then you grab the closest teddy bear and wipe your eyes on it.  You sniffle and pout. 

Even though you want their comfort, you can’t bring yourself to look at your friends when you admit, “I’ve been lying to my parents for months.” 

“What?” Hyunjin asks. 

“Huh?”  Jeongin says.

You blink away your tears and look at them properly.  They are the very picture of concern.  They have such striking faces so their emotions are always so plain, their features sharp, with thick dark brows and sloping cheeks and full lips.  Jeongin dyed his hair a fairer auburn a while ago, but Hyunjin is dark, both of them so handsome it makes you hiccup on a caught breath.  

These thoughts make you feel even more pathetic.  Here you are, gawking at your best friends while everything falls apart around you. 

You drop your face and cry some more.  They watch helplessly through their screens, saying your name and trying to calm you down. 

“What happened?” Hyunjin asks when your tears have slowed. 

“Remember a few months ago, when I went out with that guy who works at the coffee shop?”

“Yes, I hated him,” Jeongin says in a clipped tone while Hyunjin scoffs. 

“Me too,” Hyunjin says.  Their sour faces speak volumes. 

“What!”  This distracts you from yours tears for a moment.  “You guys told me you liked him!”

“Yeah, only because you did,” Jeongin says.  He is in his bedroom and he flops back on his bed, his mop of hair forming a charming halo around his head.  He grins that dimpled, mischievous grin at you.  “But now you don’t like him, so we hate him.”

“I always hated him,” Hyunjin says.  He is sitting at his desk, lit so prettily by lamplight that it looks like a dreamy filter.  He props his face in his hand and pouts dramatically.  “You didn’t need him anyway, baby,” he says.  “You’ve always got us.” 

At the same time Hyunjin says this, Jeongin tucks a hand under his head.  He is wearing a sleeveless top and his bicep flexes where his bare arm curves.  Between Hyunjin’s pretty face and prettier words, and Jeongin looking like that, it is no wonder how quickly heat rushes to your face. 

You bury your face in the blankets and shriek, frustrated with everything in your ridiculous life.  They are still looking at you with concern when you surface. 

“Sorry,” you say.  “The point is, my mom would ask about him.  You know what my parents are like and how much they want me to be in a relationship.” 

You love your family, you do.  You do not regret using visiting your parents.  The dinners and tea times and game nights have been a delight.  You have been proud to catch them up on your life in the city.  You are happy with your life, your education and your job and your friends.  Your parents are proud of you. 

They just cannot help but poke that one little detail, snagging like a loose thread on a nail and unravelling your careful composition with their obvious judgement. 

You are not in a relationship.  You have never been in a relationship.

Oh, sure, there have been dates scattered here and there, but nothing serious.  You are fine with this but your parents consider this cause for catastrophic levels of concern. 

You try to show grace.  Your family is only nosy out of misplaced worries, convinced that if you do not have a boyfriend then you must sobbing yourself to sleep every night.  Which is not true.  Well, sometimes it’s true, especially because your two best friends are the ones making your heart race, but most of the time you just eat cheese toast in bed. 

To assuage the worst of their concerns, you maybe exaggerated the truth a teensy tiny bit. 

“Well,” you say, “They were so happy that I went on more than one date, so it got them off my case for a while.  After we went our separate ways, I sort of just… kept telling them… I was still seeing him…”

“Uh oh,” Jeongin says.  Hyunjin grimaces.  Yeah, your friends know you well.  They have never met your family but they know the stories and they can guess where this is going. 

“Yeah, uh oh is right,” you say.  “My mom invited me out here for their summer party.  They throw one every year to start the season.  They invite the whole family and all their friends and their friends’ kids.  It’s huge.  I wasn’t even thinking when I said I would come because I always do.  Only when I agreed did my mom tell me to bring my boyfriend for everyone to meet… at which point I remembered…”

“That you don’t actually have a boyfriend?”  Jeongin asks with a quirked eyebrow.  Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with a quick slap of his hand to hide it. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” you say with a miserable whine.  “It’s not funny.  I messed up and now I don’t know what to tell them!”

“What did you tell them so far?” Jeongin asks while Hyunjin tries to get his face under control. 

“I was going to tell them the truth when I got here,” you say.  “But then they were so disappointed that my boyfriend wasn’t with me.  I couldn’t disappoint them even more by saying he didn’t exist at all in the first place!” 

“So you told a bigger lie instead,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head questioningly.  “What did you say exactly?” 

“I just said he was busy with work,” you say.  “And they were really upset about it so I tried to cheer them up.  I said he was going to try and make it to the party at least.” 

“But he’s not real,” Jeongin says. 

“Yes, Jeongin!” you squeal.  “That’s the problem!  And also—”  A flood of tears return, blurring your vision again.  “I know it’s so stupid.  We’re all grown-ups now.  But I was the youngest out of all the kids growing up, so I was always the dumb little tag-along.  My mom has told everyone I have a boyfriend coming and if I make up an excuse tomorrow, they’re all gonna see through it.  They’ll be nice to my face because we aren’t kids anymore but I already know they’re gonna talk about me and how pathetic I am.”  You start crying again, looking around at the bedroom you grew up in, still filled with the books and clothes and toys you left behind after moving.  It makes you feel like that little girl again.  It only worsens your angst.  “Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life,” you say. 

“Aw, no, no, it won’t,” Jeongin says. 

“Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Hyunjin also says.  They both speak in the sweetest tones imaginable, gazing so lovingly into their cameras it makes you melt. 

“You know you’re better than that,” Jeongin says.    

“Yeah, who cares what they think?” Hyunjin adds. 

“I care,” you say in a small voice, looking away again because you feel so embarrassed.  “At least a little bit.  I know it’s silly.” 

“It’s not,” Hyunjin says.  At the same Jeongin says, “It is but it’s fine.”  They both scowl at the camera as if frowning at each other.  It makes you laugh through your tears.  You wipe your eyes on the teddy bear again. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” you say.  “I just have to face it.  It’s my own fault.  Maybe if I could just get a boyfriend for real, if I didn’t suck so much—”

“You’re perfect,” they say in unison.  It seems to make all three of you look flustered at once. 

“Seriously,” Hyunjin says while Jeongin clears his throat.  “You’re our girl.”

“Yeah, everyone is else is just stupid,” Jeongin says. 

“You only need to listen to us,” Hyunjin says. 

“Listen to me, not him,” Jeongin teases.  “He’s kinda stupid too.”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says in a perfectly catty voice.  Jeongin sticks his tongue out. 

Their antics make you laugh.  You rest your cheek on the teddy bear and kick your legs behind you, smiling into your screen. 

“Okay,” you say.  “In that case, just distract me until I go to bed.  It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.” 

They both smile at you.  They waste no time obliging, launching into stories and playful bickering, making you forget about everyone and everything else.  They are your boys.  They are all you need. 

You go to bed with a smile on your face.

-

That smile is gone the next day.  You are a bundle of raw nerves all morning.  Despite the food being prepared, you cannot imagine eating, so sick to your stomach with anxiety.  Your parents ask about your boyfriend and you answer in vague replies and half-promises.  You claim he is still working but you are optimistic.  You cry your make-up off only once, which is ten times less than you thought you would. 

At least you look pretty.  You bought a new dress for the occasion, a pretty floral piece that sweeps the floor with a delicate swish.  If you are going to suffer, at least you will suffer beautifully. 

You are standing in front of the mirror, practicing lines and excuses and grimacing at all of them.  You are interrupted when your mother calls you downstairs, the first of the guests arriving.

Here goes nothing, you think. 

You take a deep gulp of air and descend the stairs, plastering a big fake smile on your face as you greet the party guests. 

They come in waves.  Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbours, friends.  You greet everyone pleasantly.  There are so many people and so many conversations that you manage to sink into the background of every discussion, batting queries about your own private life with questions for someone else. 

You start to wonder if you worried for nothing, then someone directly asks about your boyfriend.  Not just someone, but one of the girls in your age group. 

“Your mother didn’t know much, she said you were quite evasive about it!” she says.  She is not being unkind because she currently has no reason to believe you are lying.  It will be later, when everyone realizes this mystery man is not manifesting, then everyone will start to gossip and draw conclusions.  This is just the beginning of a long, agonizing party.  “Is he going to be here?” she asks.  “I can’t wait to meet him!  He’s your first boyfriend, right?” 

You love your mom, but she really is such a blabbermouth. 

You laugh awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. 

“Ha-ha, yeah, I was, um, just waiting for the, uh, right person, you know,” you say. 

Someone else opens their mouth to ask more when the doorbell rings.  

“Oh, I better get that!” you say and leap out of your seat.  You give no one a chance to protest, scampering around bodies to get out of the backyard and into the house.  You run past your father who is ambling to the door, telling him you got it.  You want to let the guest inside then stand in the front yard to catch your breath.  Hopefully, by the time you go back, the conversation will have moved on. 

You swing open the door, a polite greeting on your lips.  It catches when you see who is standing there.

“Jeongin!” you exclaim. 

Your best friend is standing on your porch, grinning that big cheshire cat smile. He is an absurdly sexy vision.  Jeongin is a tech guy but he takes modelling gigs on the side, fashion a personal hobby to him.  His auburn hair is neatly styled around his face, a slash of colour in an otherwise all-black look.  It makes him look long and fit, loose pants and a dress shirt over a sleeveless top, topped with a leather jacket.  A silver chain sparkles around his neck. 

He swoops in and kisses your cheek, giggling to himself. 

“I heard someone needed a boyfriend,” he says. 

You laugh a little hysterically, all the joy returning to your body in a rush.  You slap your hands on your hot cheeks and look him up-and-down. 

“Oh, wow,” you say.  “You shouldn’t have.  But you look really good.”

Your eyes are on the tip of his black boots.  He is looking at you too, his eyebrows lifted as his gaze travels down your body. 

“Yeah,” he says on a breath.  “You too.”

Flustered, you cover yourself then swat at him.  It makes him grin again, cheek dimpled. 

“Stop that,” you say.  “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me.  And I’ve been sweating like a stuck pig under here.  I feel like I should do the grown-up thing and come clean and send you away, but I’m not gonna do that. Come on.”  You loop your arm with his elbow and drag him through the house to the back yard. 

Seconds before joining the party, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Then as your boyfriend, I’m allowed to tell you that you looking really fucking good.  Okay?” 

You very literally fall into the yard.  Fortunately, Jeongin keeps his balance and yanks you upright.  You stumble into his open arms, your back plastered to his chest.  He is probably smiling that big grin at everyone as he keeps his arms around you.

“Hi,” he finally says and offers a little wave. 

“Ahhh!” your mother screams more gleefully than a clown horn.  She immediately starts hollering for your father. 

“He’s inside getting some food ready, mom,” you say, covering your face in embarrassment as she scuttles up to you. 

“My goodness, my goodness,” your mother says, all but throwing you to the side to get to Jeongin.  “Oh, I’ve heard so much.  No, actually, that’s not true, I haven’t heard anything.  Tsk, crazy girl.  Always with her secrets.  But look at you, oh my, you’re so handsome!  Look at those dimples.”

“Mom!” you wail.  “Stop pinching his cheeks!” 

Someone sitting nearby tugs your skirt.  It is the girl from before and she is grinning.  He’s hot, she mouths very blatantly, winking at you.  You smile an awkward, too-wide grin, still more embarrassed than not.  Everyone is chattering, looking at you and Jeongin.  A couple others smile and give you a thumbs up.  You pretend to be very preoccupied with a speck on your dress, focussed on scratching it off so you do not have to meet any eyes. 

In the midst of all the madness, the doorbell rings again.  You hear your father inside, shouting that he will get it.

“Oh, hurry up!” your mother shouts.  “You have to meet—oh goodness, what is your name?” she asks, even while she has a hand in his hair. 

“Ha, ah, Jeongin,” he says, managing to politely extricate himself.  He takes her hand and pats it affectionately.  “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, then winks at you.  Your mother looks at you with a delighted smile.  You refrain from smacking your forehead. 

At least things can’t get worse, you think, right before things get worse. 

Your father steps into the yard, smiling a big smile. 

“Ah, my little girl!” he says, waving at you.  “Your boyfriend is here!  Everybody, this is Hyunjin.” 

Your heart was racing with adrenaline a moment ago.  Now, it freezes solid.  It feels like a cement block dropping right into your gut.  You are not sure if the entire party actually goes quiet or if your ears just give up to protect you. 

You are helpless, standing stock still as your other best friend steps onto the deck behind your father.  Coincidentally and preposterously, he is dressed almost identical to Jeongin, all in black with a black leather jacket.  He is wearing sunglasses, though, which he pushes onto the top of his head when he sees Jeongin. 

Jeongin stares back at him, then he looks at you.  Hyunjin looks at you.  Your mother looks at you.  Everyone looks at you.

“Um,” you squeak.  

Wow, that speck on your dress really is so very interesting.  And why is it so hard to swallow?  Where is your tongue again?  Oh, why did you ever have to tell such a stupid lie, just for a few moments of convenience.

You clear your throat and look up.  Your voice comes in a croak when you say, “Hi, Hyunjin.” 

“Hyunjin,” your mother says, looking at him.  He blinks at her.  Jeongin is handsome but Hyunjin is the definitive pretty boy, an artist behind the camera but just as suited to a life in the spotlight.  His artistic soul really shines through in every capacity.  Even his smile is a work of art, delicate and sweet as he looks at your mother.  He would have made a perfect fake boyfriend if you didn’t already have one. 

Somehow you went from no boyfriends to two.  No, not even, because they are fake.  You went from no boyfriends to negative-two boyfriends.  That must be a feat. 

“Ohhhh,” your mother suddenly interrupts the silence.  She starts giggling as she tip-toes to Hyunjin like a panther about to pounce.  “I see what’s happening,” she says, looking slyly between the three of you.  Then she grabs Hyunjin by the cheeks as well, shaking him around like a baby rattle.  “My little girl has TWO handsome boyfriends!” she cries out ecstatically.  “Oh, that’s just like her too.  You know, she was a late bloomer in every respect, but always caught up and surpassed everyone after the fact.  Struggled at school when she was little, then grew up and got herself on the dean’s list at university.  You know she didn’t even grow breasts until she was eighteen then ballooned right up, the biggest you’ve seen!”

“Mom!”

Jeongin and Hyunjin look at your chest at the same time.  You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, making them both clear their throat and look away. 

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother says, finally freeing Hyunjin.  He and Jeongin stand together, rubbing their cheeks.  They watch as your mother takes your hand.  “I understand now why you were to hesitant to give us any details.  But it’s a brave new world.  There’s all sorts of different loves out there.  I’ve been reading books!” 

“Exactly,” your father says, joining you in the middle of the party.  “We would never judge you for who you love.”

“That’s great,” you say.  This conversation would be really sweet if it wasn’t about your negative-two boyfriends and happening in front of fifty people.  “Thanks,” you say. 

Your father is holding barbeque tongs.  He claps them in the air and smiles.

“Great!” he says.  “Who’s hungry!”

-

It isn’t until much later that you get a second alone with Hyunjin and Jeongin.  It is well after dinner when the sun is starting to set and the party has dispersed to different corners of the yard.  Your parents are with some friends, seated around a fire, so you drag your fake boyfriends into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. 

You slam the door shut.   

“Seriously!” you shriek.  “You didn’t think to tell each other you were going to show up to be my fake boyfriend?!” 

They both look chagrined, Jeongin with his arms crossed and Hyunjin rocking on the balls of his feet.  They look at each other with a grimace, then try to smile at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, then groan, leaning against your closed door.  You cover your face with your hands.  “This is insane.  My life is a joke.  Hwang Hyunjin, don’t even think about touching anything.”  You point to Hyunjin even though your eyes are covered.  You don’t need to see him to know he is reaching for something, always sticking his gossipy nose in places it doesn’t belong.  When you drop your hands, you catch him hovering near your head table.  He smiles nervously.  “Sit down,” you say, unamused.   

Jeongin and Hyunjin plop onto the bed at the same time.  They look rather ridiculous in the black and leather, contrasted to all the pink and white lace of your old bedroom.  Ridiculous, yes, and definitely not stupidly sexy.  The contrast between two sexy bad boys and your floral cuteness is absolutely not a turn-on.  It’s not.  No.  No.  You refuse. 

“Sorry,” Jeongin finally says.  “We should have checked first.  With you, at least.”

“Yeah, baby, seriously,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head.  “I feel really embarrassed.  You know we would never want to hurt you, right?”

“You were just crying so much,” Jeongin says. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Hyunjin says.

They keep speaking in their defense.  You start to pout, feeling guilty, because they are so sincere in their apology.  It is very obvious they did not do this to embarrass you.  The complete opposite.  Your friends love you so much and it is obvious in everything they do.  From the day you met them, Jeongin and Hyunjin have happily dropped everything to help you with anything.  No task has ever been too big or too small.  If it’s for you, they will do it.  You are the exception to every rule and the first call every time.  

They are your boys.  You are their girl.   

“I’m sorry too,” you say.  “In fact, I’m even more sorry.  This whole thing is my fault, after all.  I should have never lied in the first place.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, we all do stupid things,” Hyunjin says. 

“It’s not like you knew it would get this bad,” Jeongin adds. 

“I definitely don’t think she predicted this,” Hyunjin quips, looking at him.  It makes Jeongin snort and Hyunjin grins. 

It makes you laugh as well, though you cover your mouth to hide it. 

It’s no good.  Once the first giggle escape, they are relentless.  The three of you laugh until there are tears in your eyes, doubled over as the silly situation washes over you.  When the laughter has somewhat subdued, Hyunjin holds out a hand in offering. 

“Come here,” he says. 

You take his hand and he tugs you towards them.  You find yourself squished between them, framed between their bodies like a little flower.  Jeongin puts a hand on your lower back and Hyunjin brushes his knuckles over your cheek.  Both touches are innocent but the combination has your face heating.

Not just your face.  Heat rushes everywhere, cascading down your chest, swooping in your belly and lower.  Your toes even curl. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hyunjin says.  He smiles while holding your gaze. “You know we’ll help you no matter what, okay?” 

Jeongin kisses your shoulder and you cannot hide your shiver.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.    

There is a moment of tense silence after this.  You look between them and they look at you.

You all jump when there is a knock at your door.  Hyunjin falls right off the bed, sprawling in an ungainly clatter of long limbs on the floor.  Jeongin scoots to the side, less dramatic but still surprised.  You sit straighter.  Hyunjin groans and rubs his head. 

The door opens and your mother pokes her head inside, smiling. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says.  “But sweetie, there will be time to be alone with your boyfriends later, since I assume they’re spending the night.  But right now we have company.  Come spend time with the guests.  Some of the others are using the hot tub and pool.  Do you boys need swim trunks? Yes? I’ll go find some, give me a second.”

No one gets an opportunity to even answer.  She closes the door and disappears as quickly as she came. 

There is another beat of silence, then Jeongin says, “We’re spending the night, I guess?” 

“Ow,” Hyunjin says.  “I think I bruised my elbow.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

-

You putter around the poolside until the sun fully sets.  When it gets dark, the pool lights start to flicker in rainbow patterns so the others gravitate there, splashing through the luminescence.   

You and the boys wander to the hot tub while it is empty.  Jeongin sinks right in like he does not even feel the heat while Hyunjin has to make a dramatic show about every inch of skin that touches it.  You and Jeongin look at each other with matching quirked eyebrows.  You smile affectionately. 

“What? It’s hot,” Hyunjin says, finally sitting. 

“That is how they work,” Jeongin replies.    

You giggle but also drop your gaze.  Your mother managed to find swim clothes that would mostly fit the boys.  Jeongin is shirtless in swim trunks, his wet hair slicked back, that handsome face and all those lean muscles on display.  When did he get so damn fit?  He was always athletic in a subtle, svelte way, but his arms and back ripple with definition now. 

Hyunjin is in a wet suit, one that stops at the knee and elbow.  He is more covered but the solid black swimsuit makes him look so long and lean.  His hair is also damp.  You watch as he rakes his fingers through it, tucking it behind his ears.  He really is absurdly good looking. 

You blame the heat under your skin on the jets. 

“Psst,” Jeongin suddenly whispers.  His foot nudges yours under the water.  “Is that them?” he whispers. 

You try to be subtle, turning your head to see who is there.  A few younger people are sitting in some pool chairs under a torch, chatting and occasionally glancing in your direction.  It is a few of the people you grew up with, the ones you told the boys about. 

You nod at Jeongin, smiling shyly.  You look down at your legs through the rippled distortion of water.  You are wearing a simple one-piece, just as pink and floral as your dress, still a contrast to your boys. 

You look at them in time to catch a mutual nod.  You were spread around the hot tub, a reach of space between your bodies, but they slide until they are pressed up on either side of you.  You look between them, curling your hands in nervous fists on your chest. 

“What is it?” you whisper. 

“We’re your boyfriends,” Hyunjin whispers with a smile.  “Shouldn’t we sit close to you?” 

“Oh,” you squeak.  “I suppose that’s true.”  You swallow, looking at him then at Jeongin.  Your heart is pounding against your hands.  The combination of heat and desire is making you more than a little dizzy.  “Wh-what else should we be doing?” you ask before thinking twice.  Vocalizing your internal thought only intensifies your fantasies, your mind supplying plenty of mental images of what you would be doing in this hot tub if they were really your boyfriends. 

Oh, you are definitely getting dizzy, but it is not just the jets. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin look at each other, both of them surprised by your forward question.  Jeongin laughs because that is his instinct, that dimple never shy.  Hyunjin has more of a smirk than a smile.  He pokes his tongue into his cheek and lifts his eyebrows when you look at him.  It is a teasing expression.  It makes you dissolve into nervous giggles, sinking lower into the water. 

He grabs you before you can disappear under the surface.  And it is a grab.  Between Hyunjin and Jeongin, you always suspected Hyunjin would be a gentle lover.  He is so gushy and romantic while Jeongin tends be more frank about things.  But it is Jeongin who gently strokes a hand down your arm, who laces his fingers with yours and squeezes. 

Hyunjin reaches right under the water, stopping your descent with a hand on the back of your neck.  Your eyes widen as he yanks you up, not choking but certainly in control.  Your mouth falls open with surprise.  Much to your embarrassment, you moan before he even kisses you, the sound escaping of its own volition as he tilts his head and leans in. 

Oh, his mouth is gentle even if he is not.  His hand is on your jaw, firm, holding your face where he wants it, but his lips are so soft and warm.  He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sighing against your lips.  You steal a breath as well, your mouth open against his.  That breath catches when Jeongin kisses the nape of your neck, then your shoulder. 

They both have big hands, long fingers, slender but strong.  You melt between them, all heat and need. 

You turn to Jeongin, breathless with desire.  His eyes are dark, lids heavy.  You have never seen such intensity on his usually smiling face. 

You are ready to kiss him when some playful shouts erupt from the audience you forgot about.  “Get it girl!” someone shouts. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  Distracted, you reach behind you, grasping for nothing in particular when you find something, indeed.  Jeongin is rock hard in his swim trunks and your hand brushes the very decent length of him. 

You snap your hand back to yourself, jaw dropping.

“Why are you hard?” you whisper harshly.

“What do you mean, why am I hard?” he whispers back, just as argumentatively.  “We’re all making out in a hot tub.  Of course I’m hard.” 

“Hyunjin’s not hard!” you hiss. 

You look over your shoulder.  Hyunjin is staring up into the air at nothing, looking a little too inconspicuous.

“Hyunjin!” you cry. 

“What?” he returns, also whispering sharply.  “Are you saying you’re not turned on?” 

“I—hmmph—you—no!”

“No?” he asks with a sharp tilt of his head. 

“So,” Jeongin says, drawing your narrowed gaze back to him.  He just smiles at you.  “If we put our hands somewhere here,” his fingers skim your upper thigh and you jump, “we wouldn’t find…?” 

You sputter helplessly but it does no good; you have no retaliation whatsoever.  You look at Hyunjin but he’s no help, just smirking at you.  He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and you feel flushed again. 

“I’m leaving now,” you say and finally sink under the water while they laugh. 

-

You step into your bedroom at the end of a very long day.  The guests have all gone home.  Your parents, for reasons your mother strangely explained, are staying at the neighbour’s house tonight.   You are very aware of the privacy it offers, the air rife with possibility. 

Your boys are in your bed, wearing boxers and sleeveless shirts and bickering about the size of the quilt.  They stop yanking on the blankets when you appear. 

You did not bring much sleepwear.  You figured you would wear the old shirts left behind in this room.  You have outgrown most of them, but that wasn’t a problem with you were sleeping alone.  Now you are wearing old gym shorts that sit very high up your thighs, a little shirt pulled taut across your ample chest, and your friends are staring at you, their previous conversation completely forgotten. 

You cross your arms and stomp to the bed, feigning indifference.  You crawl over a startled Hyunjin to get to the middle, flopping into the little column of space they left for you.

“Good night,” you say. 

Hyunjin turns off the bedside light.  The three of you are laying on top of the covers, on your backs, stiff as boards.  Your arms are still crossed over your chest in a totally unnatural position.  You refuse to look around, counting every little popcorn freckle in the ceiling design. 

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says, his voice so loud in the silence. 

You feel Hyunjin look over, hear the turn of his head on the pillow.  You cast your eyes to either side but do not turn your head.  There is already a skip in your heartbeat and you cannot encourage it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says.  You feel him roll onto his side, facing you.  “You didn’t kiss me.”

You brace yourself then turn your head, looking at him with every intention of telling him that you did it in the heat of the moment.  But he is gazing you, his head propped up on his arm, that god-forsaken bicep flexed again. 

You shake your head and look at the ceiling.

“Yes, I did,” you say.  “What should we do about it?”

“Kiss him,” Hyunjin says.  You look at him.  He is also propped up, leaning back on his elbow. He looks at you with an expression that offers a challenge, asking, Well? What are you waiting for?      

“Fine,” you say, then slowly turn to Jeongin.  “Only because that’s fair.” 

Jeongin does not hesitate.  He is not as firm Hyunjin but he does not need to be.  Long, steady fingers slide across your shoulder and cup the back of your head.  He draws you into him, kissing your cheek before your lips. 

You quickly lose yourself.  Your eyes close and it feels like taking flight, or maybe falling.  Yes, falling helplessly head over heels.  You have been for a long time. 

You cannot help but make a few wanting sounds.  Jeongin’s body is so different to yours, all hard planes and firm muscle against your softer spots.  His hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, kissing you long and slow like he is pacing himself, like he plans to kiss you for hours. 

That hand wanders from your waist, sliding lower until he is cupping your ass.  Your breath catches and the kiss breaks.  He is quick to dive back in, kissing you deeper the second time, his tongue touching yours. 

You grab his arm, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. When he leans in again, Hyunjin reaches out and shoves his shoulder.  Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised. 

“That was two kisses,” Hyunjin says.  “My turn.” 

Hyunjin grabs your shoulder and pulls you onto your back.  You land with a soft thump, still intoxicated from kissing Jeongin. 

You blink up at Hyunjin, your chest heaving with breath as his eyes roam down your body.  His fingers follow the same trail, knuckles at your chin then the curve of your chest.  You arch your back instinctively.  Everything seems to throb when his fingers brush the front of your shorts.  It is a momentary touch, then he is cupping your cheek and turning your face and kissing you. 

Just last night, you were in this bed alone, fantasizing this very thing.  You ended the phone call but you were wide awake, so you put on some music and grabbed your vibrator and lost yourself to the impossible fantasy now entering reality. 

In your fantasies, one or both of them was on top of you.  But Hyunjin surprises you with the opposite, taking hold of your hips and tugging.  You follow his direction clumsily until you are straddling his lap.  He is hard between your legs, holding you there against him while he cups the back of your head and kisses you. 

You can’t believe you thought Hyunjin was a romantic little angel.  He is an absolute demon, rolling his hips under you with the same unhurried pace Jeongin used.  You are so wet and turned-on, so delirious with need, for a second it feels like there is nothing between you, just the hard shape of him against your softness.  But no, there are thin layers of fabric between you, stretched so tight it is like they are not there. 

Jeongin curves his hand over the shape of your ass.  Your shorts are riding up from your position.  He could get an eye-ful at the right angle. 

“You’re so…” he says, but his breath catches like there is no word to do you justice.  It makes you look at him, your eyes locking in intensity. 

It ends when Hyunjin rolls, laying you onto your back again.  Then he sits back, leaving you there in a breathless pant. 

“What do you think about?” he asks.

You make a noise back at him.  It is supposed to be a question but it comes out garbled.  You shake your head, then manage to ask, “Huh?  Think about?”

He sits up and reaches into your bedside drawer.  You come to coherency when he takes out your vibrator. 

“Hyunjin!”  You cannot help but scold him.  “I told you to stay out of there!” 

“You know I like to investigate,” he argues.  “I can’t help it.” 

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping your forehead.  “I swear to god, it’s like being friends with a crow.”

Jeongin sits up too, laughing so much he has to cover his face.  He shakes his head as he comes up for a breath, pushing his hair out of his face. 

“Stop laughing,” you say, even while a few giggles escape. 

Jeongin just grins at you, then he reaches out and touches traces his thumb across your smile. 

“Are you going to answer?” Hyunjin asks. 

You look at him and snatch the vibrator back, clutching it possessively to your chest. 

“That’s none of your business,” you say.

“It could be,” he says, expression getting darker by the second, a playful smile turning to a dirty smirk.  He runs his teeth across his bottom lip then bats his eyelashes.  “If you think about us,” he finishes. 

“I—no—you—”

“It’s fine,” he says.  “It’s normal.  I think about you.” 

“Hyunjin,” you gasp.  You go to whack him with the vibrator then remember what it is.  You hold it against your chest again, embarrassed.  Hot in the face and everywhere else, you sputter more indignantly than you feel, “There’s nothing to think about with me.”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you are serious, his eyes dropping down your body then back up.  He laughs, covering a hand over his mouth. 

“Last night I thought plenty,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I wondered if you could come so hard it would make you cry.  I bet you’d look pretty.” 

You swallow hard.  Your hands are getting clammy, clutching the toy.  You cannot even fake any indignance, so turned on it is making your head spin. 

“That’s rude,” you say in a rasping voice, “I was crying and you were—”

“I waited to touch myself, thank you,” he teases. 

“Jeongin wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking back at him.  He is staring up at the ceiling, blinking too quickly and too innocently.  “Jeongin!” you exclaim. 

Hyunjin laughs some more, a gleeful little cackle behind his hand.  You huff dramatically, trying and failing to frown at them. 

“My friends are perverts,” you say. 

Hyunjin is reclining in an insouciant slouch.  Jeongin is sitting upright behind you.  You look between them as they look at each other, seemingly conversing through nothing but a series of blinks.  Jeongin smiles first, winking at you when you meet his eye.  He is holding your gaze when Hyunjin moves, smooth and quick.  They crowd you, one on either side, each with a hand on your thigh. 

You make a noise, a surprised little whimper as you spill onto your back.  You clutch the toy for dear life as Jeongin strokes your inner thigh and Hyunjin’s long fingers trace your waistband.  You gasp when Hyunjin slides right in, under your shorts but over your underwear.  You are so turned on that there is no hiding it, the fabric wet under his searching fingers.

“Takes one to know one,” he says with a smile.  “Maybe that’s why we’re friends.” 

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” Jeongin says while sliding the toy out of your hands.  He turns it on and your clit pulses under Hyunjin’s fingers, trained to react to the noise. 

Hyunjin laughs, his breath on your neck.  He moves his hand while Jeongin presses the toy between your legs, over your shorts and panties but nonetheless immediately effective.  You squirm a little.  The onslaught of sensation has your thighs twitching to close. 

The boys shuffle quickly.  You find yourself sitting between Jeongin’s legs, your back against his chest.  Hyunjin kneels in front of you, holding your legs open so you cannot escape the toy’s blissful torture.  You can feel an orgasm winding up ridiculously fast.  You have not had a proper relationship but you have fooled around, but it was never like this.  Even by yourself with a toy, an orgasm would take time.  You have a breath to realize you are going to come, hard, legs spread for your boys.

It hits you quickly but deeply, rolling vibrations of pleasure that have you rearing up.  You start to cry out and Jeongin covers your mouth even though you are alone, catching the sound in his palm.   He holds the toy with his other hand, keeping it in place while Hyunjin holds your legs so you feel every tingling second of aftershocks. 

When you whine into his palm, Jeongin lets you go and turns off the toy. 

The room feels very quiet when the toy stops.  You come to reality, remembering you are in your parents’ house in your old bedroom.  Your parents might not be home but it still seems wrong to get down and dirty with your old teddy bear staring at you.

Hyunjin follows your line of sight.  He grabs the bear and turns it around.

Okay. It’s fine now. 

You twist around and grab Jeongin, kissing him roughly.  He holds you as desperately, kissing back with the same fervour.  Hyunjin gets his hands on your shorts and tugs them down.  They are only off one leg, dangling around your knee, when he dives in and starts kissing your pussy through your underwear. 

You are still sensitive from your orgasm, moaning into Jeongin’s mouth while Hyunjin torments you with his.  When he moves the material out of the way, your legs start shaking again.  Jeongin reaches down to touch you too, his fingers brushing Hyunjin’s lips.  Hyunjin sucks the taste of you off his fingertips then dives back in. 

You are caught by surprise when you come again.  Jeongin catches your cry, covering your mouth again as you shake in his arms.  A tear spills loose just from the sheer sensation of such rapid orgasms.  Your body feels like a live wire, all lightning and electric energy. 

Hyunjin kneels upright, looking at the tear running down your face.  You whimper into Jeongin’s hand when Hyunjin licks it off your cheek. 

“Knew you’d be pretty like that, baby,” he says. 

You pry Jeongin’s hand off your mouth.  It goes easily.  In the end, they follow your lead.  You know your boys.  They would do anything for you.  They would start.  They would stop.  

You do not want them to stop. 

“Fuck me,” you say, so quietly it does not even penetrate the silence.   Even so, Hyunjin slides his hand between your legs and slides two fingers right inside you, so easily because you are so wet.  Jeongin squeezes your breasts in his hands, over your shirt then tugging the fabric up and over to get his hands on your bare skin. 

“What was that?” Hyunjin asks.  He brings those wet fingers to his lips and licks your wetness off them. 

“F-fuck me,” you say, still a whisper but clearer.  “Please.” 

“Well,” Jeongin says, kissing your temple.  He smiles at Hyunjin.  “Since you asked so nicely.” 

You all tumble over, laying on your sides.  Jeongin is nestled behind you, Hyunjin in front of you.  Jeongin lifts your shirt over your head while Hyunjin finally removes everything below your waist.  You slip your hand between your thighs while they whip off their shirts and boxers.

Then it feels like their hands are everywhere.  Yours too, reaching forward for Hyunjin, reaching back for Jeongin.  You hold his hip while he rocks against you, his cock gliding along your backside. 

“I’ll go first,” Hyunjin says, manhandling you onto your back then getting up between your legs. 

“You kissed her first,” Jeongin argues, shoving him.  Hyunjin shoves him back. 

“You’re bigger,” Hyunjin says, nodding to his dick.  “I’ll get her ready.” 

You did not actually get a good look at Hyunjin’s dick before he put it inside you.  If Jeongin is bigger, you are almost worried, because Hyunjin is bigger than anything you have had down there.  You make a keening, high-pitched noise, mouth open as he presses inside you. 

Jeongin lays beside you, reaching down to rub that still-tingling bundle of nerves.  It helps, your eyes closing and head falling back.  Jeongin kisses the exposed line of your throat while Hyunjin starts moving inside you. 

“Ohh—” you say, your hands moving all over his chest.  You clutch one shoulder and reach for Jeongin with your other hand.  He guides it to his dick, helping you find a rhythm, stroking his length while Hyunjin fucks you.

It goes on for a time, then Jeongin curses, squeezing your hand around him.  He nods to Hyunjin.

“Move,” he says.  “My turn.” 

Hyunjin, panting, pushes some hair off his sweaty forehead.  He moves backwards down the bed, stepping right off.  You yelp with surprise when he grabs your legs and yanks you down the bed.  He grabs your hips and flips you over, then gestures to Jeongin. 

“Your turn,” he confirms.  They switch places, Jeongin kneeling behind you while Hyunjin kneels in front of you.  You get up on your elbows, lifting your hips while Jeongin thrusts in.  He wastes no time, evidently already on the brink from your ministrations.  It means your gentle lover is suddenly pounding into you, your fingers forming fists in the bedsheets, yanking the covers everywhere as you pant and moan. 

“Sooo pretty,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face in both hands.  You know what he wants without asking, opening your mouth eagerly.  You doubt it is the best head ever, especially considering half your attention is on Jeongin, your body moving where he wills it.  But you manage, savouring the moment and already imagining every variation of position for the future. 

You look up at Hyunjin, kissing the tip of his dick then saying in a rough voice, “I want both of you one day.”

“Fuck,” Jeongin says and immediately comes, grinding deep inside you.  Hyunjin grabs you by the neck and puts you back on his dick, murmuring a string of expletives just as colourful until he comes. 

You think it is over when Jeongin pulls out.  Cum is dribbling out of your mouth when Hyunjin sits back.  He wipes his thumb over your lips, pushing them closed. 

“You can swallow,” he says.  His touch is a suggestion, not forceful, so you could ignore it.  But you gaze up at him and swallow.

And while you are doing that, Jeongin grabs the toy and puts it back between your legs.  You almost scream, bucking when it comes to life on your dripping pussy.  Hyunjin cups your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks while you ride the pulsing vibrations.   Another couple tears spill and he wipes them away with his thumbs, cooing sweet nothings at you the entire time. 

They wring three more orgasms out of you before you basically collapse, exerted and sweating and panting. 

“God,” you rasp, laying on your side, still breathing hard.  “I’m gonna need to get in shape for this.  Two boyfriends is no joke.” 

The three of you laugh, then you get to enjoy the spoiled princess treatment that is having one boy to cuddle while the other fetches water and a towel.  When you finally get to sleep, it is nestled safely between your boys, murmuring sweet words at each other in sleepy tones until you fall asleep. 

-

Your parents return at lunch the next day.  While Jeongin helps your father grill and Hyunjin sets the table, you help your mother prepare a side dish.  She is practically beaming at you. 

“Do I want to know why you slept at the neighbour’s last night?” you ask. 

“Oh, my sweet girl,” your mother says.  She kisses your forehead.  “I heard you on the phone the other night.  I know you lied about having a boyfriend.”

“What?!”  You look at her with alarm and surprise.  “But – but you didn’t say anything!  You acted like Jeongin was my boyfriend the second he arrived!”

“Of course!” your mother says.  “Look my dear, anyone can find a boyfriend.  Walk onto the street and throw a rock, there’s one with his head out the car window like a dog.  Easy.  Not everyone can find a man who shows up to a party and pretends to be her lover, expecting nothing in return, and doing it just because he loves her.  And you found two.” 

Your mother wraps you in her arms.  You are still surprised but you hug her back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel so pressured,” she says.  “I just worried about you all alone in the city, but now I see you’re not alone.  But, you know, I am a mother, and I saw how those boys looked at you, so I figured… well…”

“Mom!” you cry, a little mortified she intentionally set you up. 

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow wiggle. 

You are laughing helplessly, shaking your head, which only makes her laugh. 

“I knew it,” she says.  “Sometimes fate just needs a hand.  Maybe two.” 

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” you say, walking away. 

“You are glowing this morning.  Maybe I should get another man too.”

“Mom, please!”  

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (1)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Rating: Mature

Square filled for @stuckybingo Round 5: free space - mafia au

Square filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo: Free Space

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of illegal activities/mafia business/murder, strong reader, mentions of breeding/surrogate, wish for children, shady deals, shitty boyfriend, reader doesn't take shit from no one, tension, sexy mobsters

Words: 1,5k

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“Babe, how do I look?” Your boyfriend asks, almost stumbling over his words as the men he was hoping to meet at the fancy party walk inside the room. 

Well, they don’t walk like normal people. They are stepping inside the room, stopping in their tracks to look at the people in the room. It looks like the crowd parts like the Red Sea to form a path only for them.

Steven Grant Rogers. James Buchanan Barnes. – Two names you must know if you ever heard of New York City and its mob.

They are as good-looking as they are dangerous. A deadly combination of beauty and the beast hidden behind blue eyes.

If you don’t want to end up six feet under, you don’t mess with them. Or even look their way too long.

“Did you put on the underwear I told you to?” 

“What has this to do with the party?” You sigh, as you still don’t know why Scott brought you here.

You’ve been dating for a few months, and you had hoped that tonight, he’d do more than the bare minimum. He’s not a bad guy, but an awful partner.

A criminal too. Not a criminal mastermind, but you already figured out that the small business he runs is far from legal.

“It’s important, babe,” you roll your eyes at the awful pet name. You hate it and told him so before. “Okay, don’t say anything stupid. Or, just look pretty and don’t say anything at all.”

“What?” Now you square your jaw. You don’t understand what has gotten into Scott until you lift your eyes off him to meet two pairs of blue ones. “Oh…”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes,” Scott looks pathetic when he bows for the heads of the mob in town. “I’m honored to meet you again. Thank you for having me.”

The men ignore Scott and his offered hand. Instead, they look at you. Steve almost shoves your boyfriend aside as he holds out his hand to take yours.

“I see you followed our invitation,” he lowers himself to press a kiss to the back of your hand. You shiver. He seems so polite, and kind. But behind his blue eyes, you can see the beast wanting to break free.

“Stevie don’t scare her off right away,” you are a little overwhelmed when James Barnes turns his attention toward you. He takes your other hand and kisses your knuckles, glancing at your ring finger. “No ring, doll? He didn’t ask you to be his forever?”

“No-“ You’re usually not shy, or meek. But these men crowd you like prey and have their hands on you. You know they are in a relationship, but right now, they look at you as if you are their latest meal. “We’re only dating for a few months.”

“A shame,” Steve cups your chin, making you whimper. You never felt like this before. Confused and aroused at the same time. These men are strangers, but oddly you feel safe in their presence. “What do you say? Shall we lead this to a more private area?”

You don’t know why they are interested in leading you and your boyfriend to a private area, but this can’t be good. People like them never have good intentions, and you assume Steve and Bucky are no exception.

“I’m good here…I mean. You should enjoy your party. Don’t you have to greet all the people you invited?” You nervously babble. 

“Doll, they don’t care if we greet them or not. They are only here to show respect to us,” Bucky runs his index finger up your arm. He smirks as you involuntarily shudder at his touch. “Let’s lead this to our office.”

“Scott,” you dip your head to glance at your boyfriend. He looks up at Steve as if the man is carrying a halo on top of his head. “Scott!”

“Babe don’t be rude. We should follow them to the office,” your boyfriend is no help. He’s wringing his hands while staring at Steve Rogers. God, he’s such a pathetic little boy. You just see it now when you watch him interact with two real men.

“Fine,” you snap at Scott if only to end his pathetic act. “Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, please lead the way.” 

“Do you want a drink or a canapé doll? We can ask the maid to get you something you’ll like,” Bucky sits next to you on the couch, one hand running up and down his thigh, the other creeping toward your thigh. He brushes his metal finger over your exposed skin, barely listening to what his partner has to say.

“Buck, did you listen?”

“Seal the deal,” the brunette clicks his tongue, “I’ll take care of the main act in the meantime. You know I don’t care about the conditions. We already negotiated them. You can take care of the details.”

“I want to take over more important tasks,” Scott suddenly says. He glances at you, and then he looks at Steve. “Sir, I agree on the terms. I’ll do anything to prove that you can trust me.”

“Does she agree on our terms too?” Steve dips his head to watch you stop Bucky’s hand from stroking your thigh. “Buck, we are talking here.”

“I know,” Bucky huffs. “All you do is talk to that slimy little bastard. Give him what he wants so we can get what we want.”

“Mr. Lang, you know that if we seal the deal, that you cannot break it. We have rules for a reason.”

“She will agree,” Scott hastily says. You snap your head toward your boyfriend, wondering what he’s talking about. “Right, Y/N? You’ll help me with the deal.”

“I told you that I’m not going to do anything illegal,” you hiss at Scott. “I looked the other way when you sold stolen phones to my colleagues, but I won’t actively help you. I’m not a criminal.”

“You didn’t talk about the deal with her?” Bucky suddenly jumps up to fist Scott’s jacket. “You dare to come to our house and lie to us?”

“I didn’t lie, Sir…Mr. Barnes. Y/N said she finds you hot, and all. She even talked about ending up between the two of you to her friend.”

“You sick fuck spied on me and Maria?” You growl at Scott. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes…I’m sure she’ll help you have a baby and all…”

“Baby what?” You furrow your brows. “Okay. This is getting ridiculous. What is going on here?”

“Well, we want you to become our surrogate. Bucky and I love each other dearly, but I cannot give him what he needs, nor can he give me what I want. A baby…an heir. We were looking for the perfect woman, with the perfect bloodline.”

“I-what?” The room suddenly caves in. You feel dizzy and grab the edge of the couch. “You want me to be your breeder?”

“No, doll,” Steve walks toward the couch to crouch down in front of you. “We want you to spend time with us…or rather between us.” He grins. “I want you to have my baby. And then you’ll have Bucky’s. We haven’t figured out whose allowed to breed you first.”

“Breed me?” Oh. God. Your pussy just clenched around nothing. If not for the anger taking over, you’d gladly jump Steve’s bones to have all the babies he wants. “Are you fucking insane? I’m not a piece of meat you can just buy!”

“We believed he talked about the deal with you, doll. Please, don’t be mad at us,” Steve purrs, and runs his hand over your cheek. “We only wanted what we deserve. The perfect woman having our babies.”

“She will agree…” Scott nervously says. He looks at you, hoping you’ll agree to whatever the two men holding his fate in their hands want. “Right babe?”

“I hate it when you call me that,” you jump up, and push Steve aside. “What did you believe will happen when you bring me here to offer my uterus and pussy to these two? Huh? That I’ll just bend over the desk and let them have their way with me!”

“I-uh…kinda…yes…”

“Pathetic,” you click your tongue as you glance at Bucky. He cracks his knuckles, ready to rough Scott up a little for messing with them. “I knew you were no good. I should’ve listened to my gut instinct.”

You dip your head to watch Steve walk toward his partner. They are looking at you, like lions ready to pounce. Those two men set their eyes on you, and you are not foolish enough to believe that they’ll leave you alone.

If you end up in their clutches, you’ll make sure they only get their hands on you to your conditions. “You want me and my womb?”

“More than anything,” Bucky purrs. He steps behind you to place both of his hands on your belly. “And I can tell, Stevie, and will love filling you up.”

Scott hopefully looks at you. This is the moment he was waiting for. He’ll be a made man soon, and his ex will see, he's more than the loser she sees in him. 

You look at Steve, holding his gaze, “I’ll be yours if you get rid of him…”

Part 2

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 43 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: While you couldn't stop people from talking about you and Bradley, you could absolutely stand up for yourself and your family. Bradley continued to prove that he was the man of your dreams, and you decided to show him some spur of the moment appreciation. Bradley loves you, and he recognizes that spending time with you and Noah always fills his heart to the brim.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, oral sex, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

There was no way you were going to tolerate someone talking about you like you were a brainless child who didn't deserve to be with your boyfriend. You hadn't forgotten about those engagement rings you saw on Bradley's phone. You spent half of your time thinking about Noah. Both of them were yours.

As your skirt fabric fell from your hands, you squared your shoulders and unlatched the stall door. Your heart was thudding in your chest, but it was too late now. You were met with startled eyes from the three woman, and you took a second to examine each of them in turn. You saw nothing special. You saw ordinary women who should find something else to do with their time instead of gossiping about you.

You walked right up to the sink, and they scooted out of your way as you washed your hands and dried them with one of the rolled up hand towels. After you dropped it into the discard basket, you carefully examined your still pristine makeup one last time as they stared at you in the mirror. Then you took your dark lipstick out of your pocket, swiped a little more on and pressed your lips together.

"What?" you asked, making eye contact with the redhead as you pocketed it again. "The three of you have nothing to say now?" When you were met with silence you stepped away from the sink and shrugged at the woman with black hair. "I guess I should go get my Daddy to take me home since it's past my curfew." 

You pouted a little bit and rolled your eyes when they still said nothing. But when the one who had been the most verbally aggressive toward Bradley, going so far as to threaten to touch him, opened her mouth to speak, you didn't let her. "By the way, if you want to 'accidentally' bump into my boyfriend, be my guest. There's no way he'd ever touch you otherwise."

She gasped at you as you stepped past her and made your way to the door without rushing. You didn't stick around for a response as your blood pumped hot and hard through your veins. Bradley was the only thing you wanted at the moment, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning as you thought about him. 

There he was, right where you left him, still talking to Natasha. When you got close enough, you could hear her telling Bradley, "I'm not leading him on, Rooster. He knows what this is. Just because you were looking for your soulmate and actually found her doesn't mean that's everyone's mission."

She smiled at you as you wrapped your arms around Bradley's waist. His forearm settled across your shoulders without hesitation as he said, "I hate that I have to be nice to you since you're the one who put that fucking dating app on my phone to begin with. Now please don't come whining to me when you break Javy's heart."

She poked his hat so it was crooked before walking away, and then you saw the three bitchy women from the restroom, and of course they were looking right at you. When you smiled at them and wiggled your fingers in a little wave as Bradley kissed the top of your head, they all turned away. 

"Hey, Daddy. Who are those women?" you asked, gesturing in their direction. 

He looked at them with a completely blank expression as he said, "The dark haired one on the left is Halo. She's a WSO, but I hardly ever fly with her. The other two work in admin on base. I have no idea what their names are. Why?"

"Just curious," you said, letting your hand slide down his body to the front of his pants. Bradley's eyes lit up and you smiled as he started to blush. "Come with me, Daddy. Let's check out which of the rare flowers are blooming."

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

"Baby, the rare flower exhibit is closed for the night," Bradley said for the second time as you and he walked deeper into the greenhouse. The pulsing beat of the music faded a bit as you led him past a sign that said EXHIBIT TEMPORARILY CLOSED, PLEASE DO NOT ENTER.

"I don't think anyone will notice if we just explore a little bit on our own," you said softly as you ducked underneath the red velvet rope that was hanging across the doorway. Bradley followed you, stooping low enough to make it underneath, but then he pulled you closer to him. The walkways were wider in here, but the lights were dimmed pretty low, and Bradley didn't want you tripping on the stone floor. 

"What do you want to look at?" he asked, but you didn't seem to be focused on any of the plants at all. You paused next to a small fountain toward the back of the room and glanced around with a smile on your lips. 

"I don't want to look at anything," you whispered, kissing him softly as you draped your arms around his neck. Your wildflower scent was better than anything else the gardens could provide. "I just wanted to show you a little appreciation."

Now he was just confused. "For what?" he asked, letting his hands come to rest on your hips as you licked his mustache. He wondered if you were still tipsy from all the champagne and berries you'd enjoyed. But when you giggled and rubbed yourself against him, he started to get the picture. 

"For being the world's best Daddy. I'm going to get you a new mug for your ridiculous collection. It'll say Noah's Daddy in the streets. Princess's Daddy in the sheets."

Bradley smiled as you laughed. "Baby, I'd use it every day."

"I know you would, because you're the best. And you're mine." Your tongue darted out one more time, swiping along his lips, but when he leaned in to kiss you, he was treated to the sight of you sinking to your knees in front of him. "Mine."

You kissed him through his snug white pants, and Bradley knew in the back of his mind that anyone else could duck under that velvet rope if they really felt like it. Two turns along the stone path, and they would know exactly what was happening here. But when you looked up at him and licked those pretty lips, the only thing he cared about was feeling them wrapped around his cock. 

"Go ahead. Show me some appreciation," he rasped, and you moaned as you tugged down his zipper and undid his button. You nuzzled your nose against his underwear as he widened his stance just a bit. It wasn't long before he was hard and huge and ready for you, and you were treating him like a treat you wanted to savor. "God, you're something else, aren't you?" he mumbled, brushing his fingers along your cheek. "Perfect."

Your eyes were wide and bright as you tugged down all of the white fabric just a few inches, and Bradley's cock sprang free, tapping your lips and leaving a streak of his precum on your cupid's bow. You wrapped one hand gently around his length, and with one swipe of your tongue, Bradley's eyes were already rolling back. 

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, taking a deep breath before he looked at you again. He was throbbing in your hand as you kissed his tip and along his length with a lazy little grin on your lips. You weren't in any sort of hurry as you moved in time with the thumping party music still going strong in the distance. Your tongue swirled along his balls before you took one between your lips and sucked gently. "Princess."

"Hmm," you hummed, looking up at him. Your eyelashes brushed your cheeks every time your eyes drifted slowly closed, but whenever they were open, they were focused on his face. You were his gorgeous Princess, and you were always taking care of him. Your tongue was like velvet as his cock rested on your cheek, throbbing in response to your welcome attention. When you released his balls to lick back along his length to his tip, you sighed. "I love you, Daddy."

You sucked on his head, lips pursed in a pretty pout, and when you finally took more of his cock between your lips, Bradley readjusted his stance and placed one big palm at the back of your head. "Nice and slow. Yeah. Just like that." It was heavenly the way you took him deep until you gagged before bobbing on his length. Then you did it again, eyes watering as you made that pretty sound at the back of your throat. "You're so fucking good at this."

You moaned and whined louder, and Bradley looked around to be sure the two of you were still alone as you gagged all over his cock. He tried to guide you slower, but you popped him free and grinned up at him as you pumped your fist along his length. "Do you like this? In the greenhouse?" you asked, gingerly kissing his tip again. 

He growled and pushed your head as you squealed with delight until he was tapping the back of your throat again. He could only grunt. "Yeah. I like this. You spoil me." 

Now your fingers were rubbing and teasing his balls, and Bradley was trying to be gentle with his palm at the back of your head, but you had him close to the edge. He groaned your name, stroking his thumb along the shell of your ear and down to your jaw as you worked him into a babbling mess. You kept your eyes fixed on his as he fucked your face while you bobbed and sucked. The wet sounds and soft moans were obscene, and so were Bradley's words.

"God, Baby. You're a fucking dream. You let me cum everywhere, in every hole. You gonna swallow me down?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, somehow never releasing the perfect suction you had around him. Your saliva was dripping onto your chest and down to your beaded top, coating your cleavage. Your brow was pinched. Your hands were tight around the base of his cock and his hip. You were ready for him. 

"Good girl," he praised as he came with his cock at the back of your throat. You sputtered and gagged, but you swallowed him down. Your lips parted with him resting on your tongue, and he watched you swallow with little gulps as you tried to catch your breath. 

Your eyes were watery as you licked his tip clean, never pulling him away from your mouth. Each soft swipe of your tongue was accompanied by a quiet whimper of your pleasure, and finally Bradley had to pull away before he got hard again. You kissed along the front of his pants again and let your cheek rest high on his thigh as he tucked his cock back inside his pants. What a sight you were, on the stone floor in front of him, snuggled against his uniform pants. He coaxed your chin up with his fingers so you were looking at him again, and he committed the sight to memory. 

"I love you, Princess."

Your smile made him soft inside, and when he reached for your hand and pulled you to your feet, you came willingly to his arms. He tasted himself on your lips when you kissed him and straightened out his hat. Your fingernails were raking along the stubble that was starting to grow in along his jaw as you whispered, "I got a little lipstick on your pants."

"Good," he said with a smirk. He literally didn't give a shit if everyone knew you gave him head during the retirement party. "You want to grab one more glass of champagne and start saying goodbye to everyone? It's pretty late, and I want to get back to relieve Amelia."

You nodded and let Bradley lead you slowly along the stone path back toward the main part of the greenhouse. 

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

It was almost midnight when you chewed on one last raspberry while Natasha eyed the front of Bradley's pants and then your lips. "You know, I do think it's amusing the way you get on me about my questionable decisions," she told him with a bland look. "But it's nice to see that mom and dad had a fun night out."

Bradley chuckled as he leaned against the bar sipping a glass of water. He had absolutely no shame right now, and it was making you a little flustered. Sure, you'd been the one to boldly instigate the activity that took place in the rare plants room, but now you were feeling a little more bashful about it as he stood there with his dress whites a bit marked up and his arm around your waist. 

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, and he kissed the tip of your nose. "Don't go and get shy on me now," he whispered, and then you saw the three women from the ladies' room walk past. They were all looking at him, but he didn't spare a glance in their direction as he said, "Ready to go home to Noah and Skittles?"

"Yes," you replied softly, and he finished the rest of his water in two gulps. 

"Let's go."

"Wait," you said as he started to head toward Admiral Bates. "We're not dropping Natasha off?"

He shook his head and said, "Nope. She's going with Javy. Gonna break his heart."

Sure enough, the two of them were sneaking off together as you said goodbye to Admiral Bates and his wife. You watched Bradley stand at attention and salute his commanding officers, and a little flicker of lust rippled through your body. Nobody said anything about his pants, but he was kind of just flaunting it now as you tried to get him outside. 

"Shameless," you murmured once you were out in the cool night air, the salty smell of the ocean all around you.

"I'm with you, and I don't give a fuck who knows about it, Princess. Now let's get home where I can show you a little appreciation."

The drive was quick and quiet as Bradley sang to you. When his favorite song popped up on his playlist, you turned the volume down a little bit so you could hear his steady voice louder over the music, and it gave you goosebumps. He'd sung it for you countless times and always told you it reminded him of you, and tonight was no exception. 

"I always think of you now. All the time."

You ended up on his lap once he parked in the driveway, knocking his hat off so you could run your fingers through his hair as you whispered, "I love you." He carried you carefully up to the porch, your poofy skirt becoming a bit of a tripping hazard that made both of you laugh. And you were still in his arms when he tried the doorknob to find it was locked.

"Okay," he told you with a pleased nod. "She's got the house sealed up just like you always did. I like that."

"So Amelia Benjamin is for sure our new permanent babysitter?"

Bradley slid his key into the lock and said, "As long as Noah had fun, I think so." He turned the knob and opened the door as he called out, "It's just us!" 

Amelia was rolling the ball across the floor for Skittles while she read a book, and she looked up and asked, "Did you have fun?" 

You quickly stepped in front of Bradley, hiding his pants from view as you said, "So much fun."

"Yeah, it was pretty good," Bradley added as he patted your butt and turned to head for the stash of cash behind the TV so he could pay her. "How was Noah?"

"Great! We had fun with the puppy, and he went right to bed."

"Perfect," Bradley said as he counted out some bills, and now you had to play hide the pants as Bradley casually handed her payment to her. 

"Thanks. Are my mom and Mav still there, or did they head back already?" she asked.

You were holding some of the layers of your skirt out to the side in front of your boyfriend like a weirdo as you answered her. "They must have left, because we didn't see them when we were heading out."

Amelia knelt down to pat Skittles on the head before the dog carried her ball over to Bradley's feet with a little limp in her step. "Sounds good. Call me if you need me to watch Noah again," she said, waving as she headed out. "Goodnight." 

"Thank you," Bradley called after her as he picked Skittles up and let her lick his face.

"You need to go take your pants off. I'm dropping them at the dry cleaner first thing on Monday."

Bradley laughed as he said, "I thought you were very proud of yourself."

"I was... until a literal teenager was about to see it!" you told him as you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before glaring up at him. "Just take them off while I check on Noah."

You walked away with your skirt billowing behind you, and you quietly slipped into his bedroom. He was sound asleep, his breathing soft and even as you let your hand rest on his shoulder. "Hi, sweet Noah," you whispered. You felt like you'd barely seen him all day with the amount of time you'd been out and the hours you had taken to get ready with Natasha. Your fingers grazed his warm cheek before you pushed his hair back from his forehead and gave him a kiss. "I love you." 

When you turned toward the door, Bradley was standing there with his pants unzipped and Skittles in one big hand. "It's time for me to show you a little oral appreciation, Baby," he whispered as he took your hand. 

As soon as he had you on your back in the middle of your bed with your skirt pushed way up, he found out you weren't wearing any underwear. Your pussy was wet, and you were ready for him, but when he nipped your lips as he teased you with his fingers, you broke the kiss. "Can we have a fun family day tomorrow? Us and Noah?" you gasped, your fingers clutching at the insignia pins on his jacket.

Bradley's smirk turned into a smile before he kissed you so gently, you whimpered. He kissed back to your ear as he slid one long finger into your pussy and circled your clit with his thumb. "Absolutely. I love you. Oh, I fucking adore you, Princess."

He worked you over good after that. Your fingers were in your own mouth as Bradley propped you up with his hand for better access. He was making you get a little too loud as his soft tongue and bristly mustache met your clit while he finger fucked you. And then the broad stripes of his tongue that ended in little swirls around your clit let you know exactly what he was planning to do.

"Daddy!" you gasped, hips jerking as you clenched around his thick fingers. He knew he had you. He knew just the right amount of pressure to apply. You squirted for him. You were wet everywhere; it felt like you were laying in a little puddle. 

"Oh, fuck me," he moaned, and then he was on top of you, shoving his cock inside your dripping pussy and making your back arch off the bed. His face was wet with you as he kissed you and let you lick his mouth clean. You felt good if not overstimulated and a little boneless, but with just a few deep thrusts, he came inside you.

His body weight was heavy but soothing as he eased himself down on top of you. "Well," he whispered, "looks like you'll need to take your dress to the dry cleaner along with my uniform." 

You smirked. "I'll put it on my Princess credit card."

"You're damn right."

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

If Saturday night at the retirement party was fun, then the impromptu family day on Sunday was spectacular. Bradley hadn't done anything quite like this, well... ever.

"Mommy!" Noah called out, handing you a purple golf ball at the little putt putt course next to the beach. Then Noah selected a yellow ball for himself and handed Bradley bright green.

"Perfect, Bub," he said, kissing his son while you took him by the hand. Bradley's attention just fluctuated between how pretty you were in your little sundress and how happy Noah looked. He was so preoccupied, you had to keep reminding him it was his turn.

"You're up, Daddy," you said, nudging his foot with your putter. "Why are you so distracted?"

He shook his head and nudged your putter right back before he kissed your cheek. "Just having a good day," he replied. "Thinking about how nice this is."

"We can have family Sundays whenever we're not too busy. Oh, and there's a dog friendly beach trail, so next time we can bring Skittles."

"She's getting her cast off soon," Bradley reminded you.

"Then she can sleep in my bed!" Noah said, hitting his yellow ball very badly. "You promised!"

"Yeah. You promised," you echoed. Bradley was met with Noah's look of excitement and your smug smile. Then you added, "You're just the best, Daddy."

He groaned and bent to scoop Noah up as he giggled uncontrollably. "Let's tickle Mommy," Bradley whispered loudly. He chased you around while Noah stretched his arms out and wiggled his fingers at you. When you pretended to get caught, you smothered first Noah and then Bradley in kisses. Then the three of you eventually returned to the golf game, and Bradley silently congratulated himself for successfully distracting the two of you. 

Because honestly, he was already kind of attached to having Skittles sleep in her little bed in the room with you and him. He didn't want to say it out loud though, especially since he was the one who didn't want a dog in the first place. But he liked having her trot over to him when he got out of bed in the morning, and he liked settling her into her spot at night. And he knew Skittles preferred to be taken outside by him.

"I can't believe I have an eight pound dog named Skittles," he murmured. "How is this my life now?"

Not that he was complaining. He looked at you helping Noah line up his shot at the last hole, and then you and he managed to get a hole in one together before both turning to look at him in surprise. "Did you see that?" you asked.

"Yeah, I saw it," he replied with a smile. "It was incredible. Now let's go celebrate by not asking you to cook tonight."

Dinner consisted of nothing but takeout sandwiches and a picnic table, but it was the perfect end to the day. Bradley was just mesmerized by you as you cleaned Noah's hands with a wet wipe and then cut his sandwich up into little bite sized pieces for him. Then you kissed him on the temple and asked if he would like to have Amelia come babysit him again.

"Remember when you were my babysitter?" he asked you, his eyes wide as you smiled down at him.

"Yeah. I remember, sweet Noah."

He bit into a piece of his sandwich before he said, "I liked that a whole lot, but I like it better now that you're my mommy instead."

"I like it better now, too," Bradley added, and he watched your smile grow.

"Yeah," Noah said, "because you're always at our house now, and you never have to leave."

"That's right. You belong with us, Princess." Bradley thought maybe you always had, and he and Noah were just waiting for it all to fall into place.

You looked pleased as you told them, "I'm not going anywhere."

When Bradley finally pulled the Bronco in the driveway, it was dark out, and both you and Noah were yawning nonstop. "Do I need to carry both of you inside?" he asked.

"Yes," you and Noah answered in unison. 

He picked you up for a piggy back ride before getting Noah out of the backseat, and then he carried both of you up to the porch and unlocked the door. You took Noah with you to get him ready for bed while Bradley led Skittles out the back door. 

"Yeah, I know I'm your favorite," he whispered as Skittles licked his hand before hobbling out to the grass. He'd follow up with the shelter about having her cast removed, and he get her some special treats for a reward as she built her strength up again. 

A few minutes later, he carried the pup down the hallway past Noah's room where his son was already sound asleep. When he walked into his own bedroom, you were already snuggled up in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin. "You sleepy, Baby?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed before yawning again. "All the champagne and mini golfing caught up with me, I guess. Not to mention the blowjobs."

Bradley chuckled as he set Skittles down in her bed with a little pat on her purple bow. Then he joined you after kicking his shoes off. He snuggled up next to you on top of the blankets, still needing to get ready for bed. But he kissed you and watched as your eyelids grew heavier. "Can't forget about the blowjobs," he whispered, and you smiled. "I love you, Princess."

"Love you." Then you were asleep. 

When he got to work tomorrow morning, Bradley would talk to Admiral Simpson about flying in the air show even though he really didn't want to have to chat with him about anything. Not after Cyclone's continual desire to flirt with the one woman who was Bradley's. But he'd do it anyway, because he wanted to make you happy. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and after he verified you were really asleep, he opened his internet browser to check those tabs again.

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

Silence, peasants....she is a Princess. Can't wait for Bradley's conversation with Cyclone at work. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 44

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[disneyprincemuke]

that’s just the way things go * femdriver

when her and logan crash out in a race, well, now what?

pairings: sebastian vettel x femdriver, logan sargeant x femdriver

warnings: accidents, car crash

notes: i warned you all.

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

-> canada, 2024

"ready, kid? one minute until the race starts," she hears sebastian in her ears. "everything good?"

she looks around her, trying to look at the grandstands with what little vision the halo provides her. typically, she'd not be able to hear the crowd cheering. but either something is up with her earphones, or one of her senses has heightened.

there has been an uneasy feeling in her stomach that she's not been able to shake off since she landed. there's a ringing in her head that's persistent all weekend.

"are you there?"

"yes, i'm sorry," she says quickly, perking up at the confusion in sebastian's words. "everything’s good.”

“is everything okay? you’ve had this worried look on your face all day,” sebastian states. “are you nervous? starting in the second row for the first time in f1?"

she looks to her side, noticing the ferrari mechanics working on charles’ car. she sighs and looks right up ahead at max’s red bull in front of her. diagonal to her is oscar’s car. “maybe it’s that. maybe i’m just nervous.”

“don’t worry about it, kid. i’ll be here.” she gets a feel for her steering wheel — the same one she’s had since she started last year. but for some reason, it didn’t feel great in her hands today.

her steering wheel doesn’t fit her palm today.

“let’s try and fight with the front row, alright? don’t let max get too far ahead.”

she breathes as the mechanics start to disperse. “i told max to always check his side view mirrors now that i’m behind him.”

she drives out of the pitlane, watching the car passing her before she rejoins the track. "who is that in the williams? is that alex or logan?"

"logan," sebastian says. "he's got good pace, but you're faster than him. you can overtake him whenever you see fit."

"how much faster than him? can i overtake him this lap?" she asks.

"up to your discretion. if you think you've got enough pace to catch him eventually – you have the fresher tires."

"okay."

she tries, trying her best to catch up to the williams car. she grunts under her breath, stretching her shoulders as she braces herself to fight logan on the track again.

she smiles. she hasn't fought logan on the track in a while so this is a very nice change of scenery. she tries to fight it fair and square, but she's noticed – only now – that he's developed a different driving style from the one she's used to.

she concedes about three corners into the lap, trying to get used to logan's driving style before she makes the decision to pull an overtaking move that would push logan out of the podium spot. which, realistically, she doesn't want to do if she had the choice.

maybe she should just let logan have the podium? she's already had one for herself last year in singapore after all. but no, she can't do that. there's always been a mutual understanding that whatever happens on the track should be a separate entity from their friendship.

if she concedes and lets him have the podium, despite knowing that she could very well beat him on the track, she is lying to herself and logan. and oscar, who is ahead of logan.

whatever happens on the track, stays on the track.

she always comes close, only to have to pull away from the early braking point that logan seems to be pulling at.

"seb, i can't find an opportunity to get past logan," she speaks, turning on the radio. "i need you to help me out. he went to the alex albon school of defending, apparently."

sebastian laughs. "okay, just keep trailing behind him. i'll let you know when."

"okay."

the uneasiness has managed to creep up into her body again. she feels her grip around the steering wheel falter, and her legs lock up on her as she tries chasing after him. logan manages to keep her behind him for a couple of laps, probably 3 or 4 if she remembers it correctly.

but there's a corner that logan runs too wide. she changes gears, suddenly changing her mind about slowing down and taking it slow, stepping on the gas pedal and taking a dive between the williams and the side of the track.

"beautiful overtake, kid," sebastian speaks into her ears. "he's still very close. keep the position until the flag if you can."

"i'm not chasing oscar?" she frowns, glancing at her side mirror. "i can shake logan off at the series of corners ahead, i'm sure."

"okay, but no risky moves. play it safe because you're already guaranteed for a podium at this rate."

and she holds off logan, for the better part of the next lap. they've been fighting head to head for a while until she turns into the corner, deeper than she typically would have done to throw logan off. but it seems that he's caught up with her games because he's directly next to her.

but she's already trying to go for the next corner while his car is still trying to finish the previous one. and it happens very quickly.

his left front wheel is caught slightly by her right rear, sending both of them off track. and because she was going a little faster than him, she’s spinning out at a much quicker rate than he is.

she shuts her eyes, feeling her car being flung onto surface that doesn't feel like the track anymore. she lets go of the steering wheel and bunches herself up. why is she still spinning? it shouldn't be taking this long.

until she feels the car come to a rude halting stop, the side of her car completely buried into the barriers of the track. she heaves as she tries to process her crash. it isn't as bad as her crash the year before, head first into the barrier in the streets of baku at 200 kilometres an hour.

but she does know one thing. she doesn't know if this is what she's been dreading all day, but she's furious. despite the ringing in her ears and the growing pain in one side of her body, she starts climbing out of the car.

"are you okay?" she hears sebastian asking her.

she doesn't respond. she reaches up for the halo of her car to pull herself up and climbs out of the car. she's on too much adrenaline now that the crash happened. the pain is absolutely nothing to her right now.

she unclips her helmet and yanks it off along with her balaclava, approaching the blue car in the gravel next to hers. logan is already out of the car, slowly approaching her.

"it’s o-"

she throws her arms into the air. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

logan tilts his head, only taking off his helmet now. "what?"

“yeah, what is wrong with you? you ruined our fucking race!” she scream, flailing her arms in the air. “why did you do that? you knew there was another corner i had to make a sharp turn for!”

“you went deep! you accelerated way too soon.”

“no, you hit your brakes way too soon! now we’re here! i don’t get my podium and you don’t get your fucking points either!” she turns away from him, wiping her face on the sleeves of her racesuit in frustration. “fuck you, logan!”

a soft knock lands on the door, immediately being pushed open to reveal sebastian with a small smile. he has a paper bag in his hand and lifts it up to show her. “how are you feeling, kid?”

“fine,” she answers firmly, looking down at her phone. “have you seen liam? he’s supposed to be back with my twix bars by now.”

“he’s on his way back from the paddocks,” sebastian nods. “logan’s doing okay. mild concussion, from what james told me out in the hallway.”

she looks up from her phone, the anger in her eyes very prominent. it almost makes sebastian wish he hadn’t said anything in the first place. she furrows her eyebrows. “i don’t remember asking how logan is.”

“oh. you don’t want to know?”

“no.” she promptly goes back to texting on her phone, shaking her head. sebastian walks deeper into her room, careful not to agitate her more.

she puts her phone down on her lap and looks up. she takes a deep breath. “why would he do that, seb? not only did he ruin his own race, but he also ruined mine! why would he do that?”

sebastian shrugs. “i don’t know. i’m sorry. i’m sorry you had to retire from the race, kid. but it’s not his fault. things like these happen, you know?”

“not to me! not to us!” she rolls her eyes. “he’s so reckless for that! do you not think so?”

sebastian hums, patting her hand. “calm down, kid. i know you’re angry. but you and logan have been competing with one another half of your lives. don’t be like this.”

she shakes her head, moving her hand away from sebastian’s touch. she folds her arms over her chest. “he needs to apologise for ruining my race.”

“we’ll watch the playback later, okay? don’t jump into conclusions now. don’t ruin your friendship.”

“you’re saying there was possibility i caused the accident?”

“i don’t know yet. i immediately came to your side after the accident,” sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “please just get some rest. worry about this later.”

the door opens, revealing liam with mick trailing behind him. “oh, hey, logan’s-“

mick cuts himself short when sebastian’s head snaps to him, shaking his head profusely. mick’s lips form an ‘o’ shape as he slowly puts his attention to the silently raging girl on the hospital bed.

“we got your twix bars!”

“and a pepsi!” liam cheers, dancing over to her with a straw in his other hand. “blythe said she’s on the phone your parents, but once she’s done, she’ll come right back up here.”

she nods, returning her attention to her phone. she scoffs at the notification at the top of her screen, a text message from logan rolling in.

i’m not apologising this time

she scoffs and puts her phone down. she reaches out to liam. “give me my stupid pepsi.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @inejismywife @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[tiarascrowns]

Blue Sapphire Rings

Bayco's Sapphire & Diamond Lotus Ring

"A platinum & oxidized silver Lotus ring centered upon a cushion Ceylon sapphire, set atop a bed of sapphire pavé setting with an underlying colorless diamond micropavé accent."

- Jedora

Sapphire Diamond Platinum Ring

"A sapphire and diamond ring, set with an oval faceted Ceylon sapphire, weighing an estimated 2.07cts, surrounded by round brilliant-cut diamonds, weighing an estimated total of 0.92cts, within a navette shape, with calibré sapphires and round brilliant-cut diamonds forming a scallop shaped surround, with diamond set shoulders, mounted in platinum."

- 1st Dibs

Marquise Halo Diamond & Sapphire Ring

"This stunning ... ring has a 4.4 x 10 marquise diamond center stone with square sapphires on the inner halo and paves of diamonds in the rounded scallops, bows and ribbons; surrounded by milgrain all over. The bow on each side has a bezel diamond with a twisted ribbon shank half way."

- PriceScope.com

Chatila Sapphire and Diamond Flower Ring

"This mesmerizing 18 carat white gold transparent blue oval sapphire and diamond ring by Chatila features 49 smaller sapphires spread out on a bed of white diamonds on the petals. The band is also decorated with three rows of diamonds and a front row of blue sapphires. Guaranteed to turn heads."

- 1st Dibs

Cultured Pearl and Sapphire Ring

"Centering on a cultured pearl surrounded by light and dark blue sapphires

Metal: 18k white gold Sapphires: 24 oval and 16 round sapphires Cultured Pearl: 1 white cultured pearl measuring approximately 15.00 mm in diameter Marks: 750 Size/Dimensions: US ring size 6.75 Gross Weight: 18.7 grams"

- Christie's

Secret Wonder by Harry Winston

"Exquisite medallions, meticulously set with a starburst of round and pear-shaped diamonds, rotate to reveal a symphony of sapphires, diamonds, and aquamarines hidden on the other side."

- Harry Winston & Vogue

Sapphire, Diamond and Emerald Ring

"Designed as a serpent set with round sapphires, the eyes set with round emeralds, centering a cabochon sapphire weighing 10.32 carats, size 7."

- Sotheby's

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Christmas (Holiday) Smut, Red Ribbons, Candy Canes, Peppermint Sensations, Sleigh Bells, Sexy Santa References, Dean is Tied Up, Edging, Oral Sex, 69, Vaginal Sex, Reader is a Naughty Little Vixen, Dean deserves a proper (sexy) Christmas.

Word Count: 2700

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Notes: This smutty little fic is a holiday gift for @jessjad for the 2023 SPNFanFicPond Secret Santa Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy the reader’s sexy times with Dean.

Big thanks to @sam-is-my-safeword and runawaydr3amer (AO3) for reading the first draft and helping with a great many awesome smut ideas. Additional thanks to runawaydr3amer, who also beta’d this fic and packaged it up nice and shiny. 

Merry holidays!

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo, and this part will fill my "Edging" square.

Resources:

Collage created in Canva

Pic found on Google (Fanpop)

Song Reference: Santa Baby by Joan Javits and Philip Springer (listen/watch this version sung by Eartha Kitt)

Dean sinks those pearly whites into the flesh of his bottom lip. His top lip pulls up and back into a painful sneer. The usual rosy, pillowy fullness of that mouth is instead taut, whitening under the capture. You laser focus onto the pointy canine denting into the mouth you have debated sitting on since you began this teasing challenge.

jingle

You finish fashioning a sweet little bow with the ribbon. It’s ruby red and velvety soft.

“Well, I think that’s about the prettiest package I ever did wrap.”

jingle

“What do you think, Mr. Claus?” you ask, your voice as innocent and demure as you can manage.

Dean opens his mouth and expels a slow gasp. jingle “Fuck, sweetheart. You aren’t playin’ fair.”

“That’s the whole point.”

You rise from the edge of the bed and take in the entire scene. It’s magnificent. 

He’s magnificent.

Dean is lying atop the forest green comforter of your bed. Naked. Well, not totally naked. A red ribbon - adorned with one single sleigh bell - binds his wrists together and anchors him to the headboard. His arms, jutting out and bent to create a diamond-shaped frame around his face, give you a prime ticket to the gun show. Biceps flex and tendons raise under the skin as he tries to remain as motionless as possible.

jingle

You aren’t a complete heathen. He’s got a fluffy pillow, the same deep green color as the comforter, to rest his head atop. Dean is anything but sleepy. He’s wound up. He stares back at you, the green of his irises electric and flaming with intensity.

You anticipate how sublime it will feel to strum the cords of his neck. Tickle your fingertips down that chest. You imagine Dean ring-a-ding-dinging and cursing himself if you take the time to trace the outline of his tattoo. Circle those perky nipples. Dip into his belly button and follow his treasure trail of baby-fine hair.

You marvel again at the other ribbon that you tied. You’d purchased a couple yards of red velvet at the craft store weeks ago with this in mind. With him in mind. You were ecstatic it had been enough to criss-cross around the crease below that fine ass. It wraps over a slight vee along his waist. The makeshift holiday jockstrap has Dean’s beautiful, now fully erect, cock sporting a bow.

Dean sighs. “Are you done decking my balls?” jingle

You giggle and fiddle with the belt of your robe. It’s red as well, but made of silk. “As we discussed, the end result of all of this is all up to you. Santa.” You flip a switch to turn off the ceiling light. The sconces stay on above the headboard. Two halos figure eight over Dean’s beautiful body, awash in a warm amber glow.

He’s a full print ad of holiday cheer and sinful debauchery.

“You’re being very naughty, (jingle) Mrs. Claus.” Dean licks his top lip—your core clenches at the deep timbre of his scolding. 

You’ve been wet since you both finished Christmas dinner. Since you told him you had one more gift for him waiting upstairs. Since you left him in the bedroom with orders to strip while you changed in the bathroom. Since you pulled out the ribbons. Since you explained that if he was good and could keep his jingling down to a minimum through what you had planned, you’d fuck him into the New Year.

You inhale and shrug, then begrudgingly turn your back to the sight. It takes a few taps on your phone for you to get to the song. You stifle another giggle at the little jingles Dean can’t help as he waits. 

Once you tap the play button, the festive and recognizable melody begins. A barbershop quartet bah-bums a bit before the sultry and smooth vocals of Eartha Kitt take the lead.

You look back over your shoulder at Dean and whisper along with Eartha.

You peel the silky robe off one shoulder then the other. Dean groans when the layer slips down to the floor. jingle

“Shit.” He moans and you grin in satisfaction at the hoped for reaction.

You turn back to face him, adding a dramatic hair flip. You're wearing a sexy little Mrs. Claus outfit. It’s a red velvet dress with a scandalously high skirt and a low-cut halter. White fur lines both the top and bottom. It’s all cinched nice and tight around your waist with a black belt and a gold buckle.

You bend at the knees and lean forward, shoulders folding in and hands resting on your thighs. It gives Dean the perfect vantage to ogle your cleavage. You purr along with the next line and modify the lyrics a smidge.

“Man, I must have been a really good boy this year.” Dean stares in awe, not even caring how much he’s jingling with his squirms atop the bed.

You let it slide for the time being, thrilled at the kid in a candy store grin plastered on his face and the way the bow sways with every twitch of his cock.  

Dean tilts his head to the side. His gaze begins at your red-glitter heels and canvases every inch of skin from ankles to thighs. He pauses, stopping to stare at the hint of flesh under the skirt hem. jin-jingle jingle jin-jingle He pants out, “Mrs. Claus forgot her panties, huh?”

You lift a finger and wiggle it back and forth in the air. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember, really good boys stay still if they want their present.”

The bell jangles no matter how carefully he attempts to reposition himself. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles and you laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be good,” he whispers soft and sweet.

The heels tap across the hardwood as you walk over to settle beside Dean. You adjust your skirt to let the scant amount of fabric fan over your naughty bits. Being so close to him makes you forget the lyrics to sing along with Eartha.

You rest a hand on his chest. Through clenched teeth, Dean inhales at the touch, the rest of him frozen in place. The bell is silent. Your other hand grabs one of the candy canes you had left on the bedside table. For reasons.

Watching him fight every urge he has to reach out and touch you is fascinating. And the power you have over him gives you a head rush. You continue the tease, twirling the candy between your fingers, then laving the cane’s hook with your mouth and tongue. Dean garners some pity from you as he whines, brows downturned, eyes attentive to your every swirl and suck. You swing the cane close to his mouth. “Wanna taste?”

He swallows. “Wanna taste you,” he states, the hint of hope escaping around the edges of a soft moan.

The thrill of his need quickens your pulse. No other man has loved and adored you as thoroughly and exuberantly as Dean Winchester. You nod. “You will. But, first,” you rub the wet-slick candy cane over his bottom lip, “show me what that mouth wants to do.”

“You know what this mouth can do,” he reminds with a little sass, letting the candy cane tap against his bottom teeth. 

But soon enough, he indulges you. He slips the hook between his lips. His tongue slides out under the curve of peppermint, lapping at the sticky sweet. Again and again. Your breath hitches into your open mouth as you watch, enthralled at the ministrations of that thick and powerful muscle. He sucks the confection in a little farther, pursing his lips. The sounds he’s making, enjoying the treat, are downright pornographic and send any extraneous bell ringing to the back of your hearing queue. The red food coloring coats them like lip gloss by the time you break from the spell of his show. You guess it’s been minutes since Eartha finished her rendition of ‘Santa, Baby.’ The rest of the playlist you created has soft and dreamy instrumentals.

“My turn,” you cajole. You tug on the cane. He relinquishes, but not without some resistance. A little pop escapes his mouth once the hook is freed. You marvel at the progress he made. The hook end is substantially shorter and thinner than when he began.

He sniffs and tilts his chin up in pride. jingle “Your turn with that, or my turn with you?”

The cane slips back into your mouth, your fingers sticky from all the handling. You stand, kick off your heels, and climb back onto the bed on your knees. You grin as you suck on the candy.

His eyes soften. “Be careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke. Well, at least not on that.” He smirks.

He’s right. Safety first. You toss the candy onto the bedside table.

“You are so (jingle) fucking hot in that (jingle) outfit.” He grins and waggles eyebrows in anticipation. “Gonna let me down your chimney, Mrs. Claus?” jingle jingle jingle

The actions in the next few seconds are a blur. You wonder if Dean has some sort of Jedi mind control ability. Because even though you are supposed to be the one making decisions this evening, his seductively god-awful puns find you sitting on his face, reverse cowgirl. 

“You might get the golden ticket to all my secret places if you’re lucky.” Your fingers tip-toe down his chest like a grinch about to steal someone else’s presents. 

jingle jingle jingle

“Fuckin’ hell,” Dean murmurs under your skirt. Hot breath bathes your inner thighs and other areas you hope will soon be explored.

Your hands rest in the little divots created by his pelvic bones while you take his body in and plan your method of attack. You pull on the ribbon and release his cock of the bow. Then, you’re deep throating him like he’s your last meal.

Not one to be outdone at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Dean’s entire face gets in on the feast as well. Nerves respond to the tingling sensation of the residual peppermint on Dean’s lips and tongue. You shiver at the gloriously heightened sensitivity when he pulls back to blow on your pussy. “This is so much better than milk and cookies.” He moans and groans and jingles all the way. 

As much as you’re loving the taste of his precome, the velvet texture against your tongue, and the way the tip triggers a tiny gag reflex at the base of your throat, it’s time to remind him of the consequences of all that noise he’s making. You release the hard length from your mouth and try to concentrate on your own breathing during the absolute virtuoso way he’s eating you out. As much as you’d love his fingers to get in on the action, you know you’d have no control over the situation. You sigh in relief that he’s trying to adhere to some parts of the game. The pitiful, half-hearted ribbon shackling of his hands to the headboard is no match for Dean Winchester.

You steady yourself on wobbly knees and one shaky elbow. A firm grip around the base of his cock makes Dean gasp. He stills after that. In your mind’s eye, you picture the beauty of that mouth and how his luscious pink lips were slick with peppermint. You imagine how slick they are with you now. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs and you feel him settle back onto the pillow. “I’ll be as quiet as I can. Can you blame me, though? Here I am, under your sweet little skirt, in the dark (jingle)... shit, sorry. But, you can’t drop a five-course meal in front of a starving (jingle) man and not expect him to wanna little taste.”

You squeeze his cock. “That’s part of the challenge.”

“I’m always up for a challenge. You always make me feel so good.”

You groan at the praise he bestows. Without releasing your hold, you shimmy off his chest. Channeling the prim and delicate sensibilities of Mrs. Claus, you crawl along the comforter and settle between nutcracker bow legs. With knees tucked under you and sat atop bare feet you accept him in your mouth again and get to work. 

You take in the sight of Dean inventorying your every action. He’s gripping the top of the headboard with both hands to steady his upper body. You clock that the little stinker has also managed to palm the sleigh ball in an effort to silence or, at the very least, muffle it. You consider that move cheating. But he feels so sublime that you can’t bear to part with him to voice your irritation. He’s also whispering the sweetest filth to you while he watches.

“Damn. Yeah. Those lips of yours feel so good around my cock. You take it so good, baby. Wish I could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, but I’d definitely jingle-jangle way too much.” A tongue swipe over his top lip accentuates the glossy look of his ruby-tinted mouth in the warm light. “You really are too good to me. You give the best Christmas presents.” He stiffens further with each downstroke. “Aw, yeah. Suck it.” Your rhythm increases. “So pretty. Wanna touch you so bad.” He gasps. “Fuck, I’m gettin’ close.” jingle jingle   

You clamp around the base again and squeeze, freeze mid-swallow - your lips around the tip - as soon as he rings.

Dean squirms and grumbles.

You continue to bring him to the edge of orgasm, then halt. Your jaw is aching along with the rest of your body as time passes.

You’ve fucked Dean up in the best way possible. He’s blissed out, wound up tighter than a spring. You’ve got him begging. But his words grow into admonishments with each successive denial. “You can’t keep doing this, baby. There’s gonna be consequences. Santa’s gonna for real put you on his naughty list. Nothing but coal in your stocking,” he huffs.

You give your mouth a reprieve and stroke him. “Is that all that happens to naughty girls?”

He gnaws at his bottom lip before offering, “You really wanna find out?”

You nod.

The ribbon binding Dean to the headboard shreds with one mighty tug. He pitches the sleigh bell in the air. It jingles as it pinballs around the room. 

You gasp as he cinches those hands under your armpits and drags you up his body. He crushes his lips into yours, tastes you with his tongue. The mixture of your arousal and a hint of peppermint melts you in his arms. Then, a sudden and swift rollover pins you beneath him.

He hovers, tosses your skirt up to your chest, and wedges between your legs. His hard, heavy cock slips into your folds and glides through your wetness. “I could drag this out. Or.” It’s his turn to tease. He notches snug against your entrance. You’re surprised your muscles haven’t pulled him into you of their own accord the way your entire body spasms with need. He whispers in your ear, “Let me be your Santa, baby.”

You gasp, “And hurry down the chimney tonight.”

He groans in victory and slides in, balls deep. He thrusts. One massive hand gathers your wrists together on the pillow above your head to anchor you in place. Fingers of his other hand grip the top of the headboard. Every sway in and out of you gets more frenetic. You’re screaming his name and he’s cursing yours. 

“Good girls do what they’re told,” he states, out of breath, face reddening. His gaze locks with yours. He slows down. Releases your hands. Finds your clit amid the white fur and red velvet. Strums. Angles and hits your sweet spot deep within you with a harsh abandon. “Come.”

Minutes later, after you’ve both orgasmed, you’re curled into his chest. “That was…” you manage between heavy exhales.

“Yeah, that was awesome.” He kisses your forehead. “Every year, since I saved you from that ghost on Christmas Eve, you find a way to outdo yourself with the holiday cheer.”

“Well, you deserve it. I’m glad you can get away for a little while and get a special treat.”

He sighs. “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to…”

You rest a finger atop his lips. “How I see it. Guy saves your life one time, you owe him the rest of yours.”

He smiles and pulls you in. “How about we just focus on tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

[lalunanymph]

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*' lowkey - mikage reo

syp. reo doesn't do lowkey. it's all or nothing for him... except when he decides he just can't wait to make you his forever

The lights are low and the TV hums in the background. 

Your boyfriend’s amethyst eyes never leave the screen, engrossed in a documentary you were dozing off to. 

“Tired?” His voice, a smooth baritone, nudges you awake much like his thumb running gentle circles on your hip bone. You’re dressed in his jersey and nothing else, limbs aching from the positions he took you in earlier tonight. 

“Hmm,” you trace your tired gaze around the halo of purple hair perfectly framing his handsome face. “M’hungry.”

Reo lowers down the volume, turning to face you with an amused smile. “Let me cook for you.” Before you can tell him it’s fine and you’d go to bed with an empty stomach, he stands, offering you his hand.

You pad into the kitchen, sitting on the wide island as he moves around the pristine space, pulling out vegetables, meats and noodles from the large, smart fridge he insisted on buying as your housewarming gift. Reo hums while he cooks, and you find yourself lost in the recollection of the very first date you both had where he confessed he once burned water.

“Remember when you told me you couldn’t cook before?” 

The fragrant smell of garlic and spices reaches your nose, your stomach rumbling in response. 

He chuckles. “Yeah. You looked at me like I was an idiot.” 

“Hmm... you still are one," you retort. As an afterthought, you mumble, "Sometimes.”

He turns and arches one graceful brow at you. “You do know I’m handling your food, right? Salt and sugar looks the same, so watch it.” 

You bite down on a smile, enjoying his annoyance. “And my mother said that if you wanted to get married to me, you need to at least know how a toaster works.”

Reo tosses the pre-made noodles into the sizzling with a snort. “I remember. She sat me down and showed me the buttons.”

"I'm forever grateful she taught you very valuable life skills.” 

You giggle, flinching back to avoid his swat. 

“So, am I in the clear to put the ring on it, or not?” It was his turn to tease. Your smile softens. 

“Maybe. We’ll see.” 

Reo stops stir frying the noodles, putting off the flame. He’s uncharacteristically quiet. Usually, your boyfriend was always equipped with a comeback to your endless banter, but his silence made you queasy. 

“Baby?”

“What if I do it now?” 

He’s staring at you with unabashed yearning, amethyst melting into crystalline pools. You feel your breath lodge somewhere under your heart. He pulls back his hair, lets it fall in his face, and rubs his bare neck. Your eyes flit briefly to his equally naked torso, wondering how someone could look this angelic even when they were making chow mein. 

You swallow the lump back down your throat. “L-like propose to me? Here? In this kitchen? That’s not like you.”

It’s true. Mikage Reo and excess go hand-in-hand. This is a man who once gifted you a thousand balloons on your thousand day anniversary, and asked you to be his during New Years Eve. Your engagement would easily outshine these events, if Reo wanted to make it happen. 

He blows out his cheeks, scrunching his nose. “Why? Can’t believe I’ll do it?” 

You shrug. “Not like I don’t want you to, but c’mon—I don’t think you’d be the type to be lowkey.” 

“But, do you like lowkey?” 

He twists his fingers, and you realise—oh. He’s nervous.

Your smile is purity and mischief in one twitch. “I like you, Reo. Lowkey, highkey, extra. As long as you’re there, I have everything I need.” 

His shoulders tense, and he looks away. You can’t read his mind, but if you could, you would hear nothing but the sweetest music humming just for you. The light you effortlessly spilled around his thoughts. The exploding happiness falling into place piece by piece as Mikage Reo put together the idea that he could never spend another useless second without making sure you were his forever. 

His knee hits the marble floor, and the square in his sweatpants pocket materialises in his palm. 

Your laughing expression melts into shock, and you stifle a gasp. “R-Reo…”

He pries open the velvet lid with shaky fingers, lower lip trembling. The dishes are cluttering the sink, the TV is still blaring on in the background and you barely have clothes on, but Reo doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because yes—there are no fireworks, no fancy desserts spelling out declarations of love or a beachside he could fully rent to make his wishes come true. But, you’re here. You’ve always been here for him. Throughout his soccer career, when he finally took over Mikage Corp, and amidst every corporate scandal and scare. You were his from the beginning as much as he was yours.

No other riches in this world mattered beyond your smaller hand in his, his ring shining from your left finger. 

You rub at your eyes, and slide to your feet, using the corner of the island to support yourself. 

“I d-don’t have a speech, but I love you. Always,” he murmurs, tender and sure. “Marry me, please? You’ll make me so happy if you say ‘yes’.” 

You can barely see the diamond ring through your tears, its shine overshadowed by his wide eyes filled with nothing but love. 

“Yes,” you whisper in a thick voice. “Yes, always. Always, Reo. I want to marry you.” 

His breath comes out in a shudder, and he almost drops the ring in excitement. The sparkling circle wraps around your finger gracefully, and his arms come next around your waist, bringing you to his chest.

For the first time in his life, he can’t find the right words to say. Someone told him that when you know it’s love, you would know. 

Reo had always assumed it was a bunch of crap, but when you sigh his name and kiss his neck, he can’t help but feel it in his bones.

Love. 

All of it. With no expectations or price tags. Drenched in the richest opulence coating his every exhale with the lightest ease.

Spelling out you, you, you. 

Just you, right here with him for the rest of his life, forever.

© all work belongs to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[hee-blee-art]

some jons and martins...

[image ID: eight graphite portrait drawings of jonathan sims and martin blackwood from the magnus archives. jon is drawing as thin man with medium light, an angular face, a prominent aquiline nose, a scruffy beard, and long curly hair. martion is drawn as a fat man with light skin, several beauty marks, a prominent nose, dark hair dyed light, and square glasses. the first two drawings are of jon, both looking down in different outfits, the second with stylized floating eyes around his head. the third and fourth are contrasting portraits of martin, one younger with longer hair and a more worried look, the other older with shorter hair and a more stern expression. the fifth and sixth are of jon, showing him with his hand over his eyes and a pleading teary expression respectively. the seventh is of martin with his eyes completely white looking mildly surprised as he says jon’s name and smoke swirls around him. the eighth is of jon, shown from a low angle, his eyes wild and his brow furrowed as he gazes down with a ring of eyes floating like a halo around his head, with the text “heavy is the head that wears the crown.” end ID]

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Hi!! I love elementary!!❤️ I have an idea for a Drabble if you don’t mind but no pressure!! I was thinking about a scene where Joel and Sarah and perhaps Tommy too help Joel go ring shopping for reader 🥰 thank you!!

The Perfect Fit

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (just some engagement ring shopping cuteness with Joel and Sarah

wc: <500

series masterlist | joel masterlist

“No, no, no—“ Sarah shook her head and kissed her teeth as he father pointed out some gaudy ring with a heart-shaped stone as the focal point. “Do you look at that and seriously think of her? An elementary school teacher? Who’s favorite thing to do beside read Victorian era romance novels is to sit at home with us and devour a pizza? Come on, dad, be realistic.”

“My god—“ Joel chuckled at his daughters harsh but correct rejection. “You ain’t holdin’ anythin’ back today, are you? I’m startin’ to think I’ll never find a ring that satisfies you.”

“Dad, you’re paying thousands and thousands of dollars for this one piece of jewelry that she will wear until she dies,” she spoke plainly, as if she had no time for funny business. “It has to be perfect. Not for me or for anyone else—for her.”

“Well,” he sighed and kissed his teeth. “I don’t have an eye for all this like you.”

“Just—“ she sighed, attempting to remain patient with her father but they’d been at this for days now, going to countless ring shops to try and find the right one. She’d pointed out so many along the way that could be a good fit, but Joel felt too uncertain about all of them, claiming they weren’t good enough to deserve a spot on her finger. “What do you think of when you think of her?”

“Summer,” he replied, a soft smile growing on his face as her image appeared in his mind. He always imagines her backlit, the summer sun behind her giving her a halo of golden light. “Gold, I guess.”

“See, that’s good!” Sarah patted his back before walking him away from the silver engagement rings and over to some gold ones. “What else?”

“I don’t know, she’s…soft. Subtle, but stands out in any room—maybe that’s just me always lookin’ for her,” he spoke with a soft flush, chuckling at himself.

“So, maybe a round stone—oval, even?” Sarah walked him over to some more rounded cuts of diamonds rather than the square, princess cut ones they’d been looking at. “Now this…this is her.”

“You know what,” he chuckled, looking into the glass display. “I think you’re right. This…is her. That one in particular—“ He pointed to a gold ring with an oval stone in the center, two smaller diamonds on either side of it, spaced out on the band. “I like that one a lot.”

“You know what? So do I,” Sarah beamed, meeting her father’s eye. The pair grinned at each other for a beat before Joel sucked in a deep breath.

“I think you did it,” he announced.

“No, I just guided you,” she reminded. “She’s gonna love it, dad.”

“For three thousand bucks? I sure hope so.”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: Thanks you everyone who read the intro!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The main hall is bright and spacious. As alluded to by its name, Jade Hall is adorned in varying shades and cuts of the stone. Gilt frames, golden trays on glass lamps, crystal sconces housing amber flame, veined marble, and polished stone. 

The large plinths at the base of the staircase seem unsuited to the statues atop them. Curling snakes of shining gold with great jade eyes and long curved fangs. A long rug of eastern patterns and tassled edges leads the path to the steps, arched and lined with curling banisters.

"Madam," the groom addresses your mother, "I will show you to your chambers."

"Thank you, sir," she accepts nobly as you give a dignified nod.

"You may refer to me as Parson, I am the master's personal groom. He has tasked me with your welcome."

"Oh how gracious," your mother remarks with a fawning grin, "he sounds like a true gentleman."

"He keeps an orderly house," the groom affirms.

"Immaculate," she looks around with her hand to her chest, "ugh, absolutely resplendent."

The groom bows his head and waves towards the stairs before proceeding. Your mother trails him and you follow after her. You glance around at the tall portraits, a woman with loose golden hair with a single haloed braid around her head. Another of a man with dark hair and thick beard, gleaming blue eyes, and an indomitable square jaw. His clothing belongs to a previous season.

You ascend and ease out a stunted breath, exhaling in short spurts as your heart races. You continue down a wide corridor, a standing jade vase beside a whitewashed table beneath a bowl of white lotuses floating in water. A peculiar decore but quaint.

A set of double doors is presented to your mother as the groom faces her with another respectable dip of his head, "Lady Thea, I will allow you to accommodate yourself. Then I shall show the younger to her own chambers. You will be summoned for lunch."

"Thank you, sir," your mother preens, "you must send my gratitude to your master. The duke is very generous."

"Yes, my lady, I will be certain to inform him," he avows, "lady," he looks at you, "you are not very far, just the very next."

He leads you onward as your mother enters her rooms with a dreamy sigh. Her mood has lightened since you left your father's estate. Perhaps being far away from home has cleared her mind of mourning.

You are stopped before a door carved with winding vines. The groom steps back to allow you to pass.

"My lady, if you require anything, there is a bell you may ring and I will be certain you are attended. I will have your maid join you shortly, and your luggage."

You look at his shoulder and attempt a smile, it might look more a grimace as your cheek strain. You swallow and muster some strength, "thank you, sir." Your last word floats at the end, not quiet a sharp R, more aw sound.

"Most honoured, my lady," he responds without pause, "and welcome home."

You bat your lashes and slowly turn to the door. You try to restrain your nerves as they swirl to a maelstrom. Home, is this truly it. Are you truly to be the Lady of Jade Park. Married to a man in place of your sister. An imposter.

You march through the door and the groom pulls the door shut in your stead. You bring your hands up, folding them over your chest. You have a blackness in your heart. You feel as if the world is empty. As if you're lost in it. As if you don't belong to the land of colour and light and life.

It is as much grief as it is dread. You miss your sister, you long for the past, and you fear the path ahead. The unknown is underlined with a certainty, deep inside, that you will as ever be less than you should.

🔹

There is a knock at the door. You break from your trance, reluctantly releasing the window sill and turning away from the sight of birds winging over the gardens. You sweep to the door and open it, facing the servant in their evergreen attire. A man with lines in his cheek and a dourness that darkens his sockets.

"My lady, lunch is served," he declares in a brittle timbre.

You nod and thank him, mouthing the word as your voice refuses to rise. You are taken down the corridor and the man fetches your mother from her chambers as well. She emerges with the aroma of roses. You suspect she was anxiously primping all the while.

You descend the stairs, the noise of the kitchen and shuffle of servants drawing you around to the sunroom near the rear of the house. A round table is set near the tall paned doors, open to let in the summer air. There are tiered trays of cut sandwiches, a tureen of creamy soup, a plate of colourful pastries and sugar cookies, along with a silver tea set and elaborately painted porcelain dishes.

You are shown to your seat and sit with some trepidation. It is only you and your mother amid the rush of servants. Where is the duke? Has he seen you and changed his mind? Is he not eager to meet you?

You keep your hands in your lap, squeezing a fold in your skirt as your mother admires the high ceilings and embroidered edges of the tablecloth. She comments on every detail; the thick brocade curtains drawn to the side, the settee with the knobby birch feet, the round-bellied fire stove set into an alcove; a mixture of eras mingled in a most natural allure.

"Parson," the deep voice chokes you and you shakily tilt your head, peeking form the corner of your eyes as you hear the approaching steps, "how can I be tardy when I am the host? Do not pester me."

You rise as your mother does for the entrance of the duke. For it must be him. He as good as announced it and his appearance all but confirms it. Tall, sleek, with a chin set high, and a nose just short of aquiline. He is handsome, pale, but sardonic. His green eyes remind you of the jade stones set into the serpentine statues near the stairs as he considers the table first then deigns to glance between you and your mother.

He approaches her and bows, his posture eased but refined.

"Lady Thea," he proclaims, "what great effort you did take to be here. No doubt a strenuous journey in this heat."

"Your grace, how generous of you to welcome us," your mother responds, "and I do apologise that our arrival was so delayed."

"Mmm," he shifts and lets his eyes wander to you, "and I regret the news of your firstborn."

"We hoped she would strengthen but... we also did not want to renounce our contract. My husband is a man of integrity."

"Surely, he is. I did think him much so when we met," he says as he strides towards you, fully turning in your direction. He offers a smaller bow, "you do look rather different than your sister."

You blanch. You don't know what to say. You thought he hadn't met Edith.

"However, we cannot always trust a portrait's likeness," his eyes flit in a way that unsettles you, "and I do know how different siblings can be."

Your mother gives a small hum, a reminder and reproach at once. You fix your shoulders and do your best to meet the duke's demeanour. You bow.

"Yaw gwace," you raise your head slowly.

You see the subtle twiddle in his long fingers, the way he brings them to touch the trim of his jacket, the tick in his jaw. The long breath that says more than he ever could. He leans back on his heel.

"Honoured to welcome you both," his tone betrays his judgement. How could he not notice? How could he not hear it? You are defective, not only in appearance but all else.

"And we are so grateful to be here. That we can continue on in this union of our names," your mother sits as a servant holds the back of her chair. The duke lowers himself as you do the same, watching the table.

"Mmm, yes, I have yet to discuss the amendment with my father but I'm certain they care not for which daughter I wed."

His meaning is clear. You are not as stupid as many believe. His father will not care but he very much does. Your insides freeze, cold and stiff, and you feel as if you might shatter. It is as bad as you expect, yet expectation rarely meets reality. No, it is worse. To sit and stew in being unwanted.

🔹

You sit at the vanity, watching your lips move. Over and over in the silent repetition. Slowly, painfully working at curving them, shaping them just right. In your head, you imagine the words clearly. ‘Your grace’. 

You still and stare at your reflection. You summon your voice and pronounce the words aloud.

“Yow gwace,” you declare to yourself.

You try again. And again. Anon until your mouth aches from your endless attempts to get it right. The words are wrong. Two simple words and you can’t say them. Two syllables. You drop your head forward as you plant your elbows on the table and catch your forehead.

You see the duke’s disappointment. You feel it still. How could he not be utterly repulsed by you? He alluded to a portrait, no doubt he was sent an image of your sister, and how he would have been surprised to find her even more attractive than the artist’s rendering. But in you, he is entirely dissatisfied.

You blow out a long exhale and prop your chin up on the heels of your hand. You look at yourself through bleary eyes, tears wobbling just on the edge. You sit back and drop your hands, smoothing the front of your dress and over your skirts.

The embroidered brooch draws your gaze. The oval pendant your sister made you, a blue bird on its face. Your most treasured piece. She reminded you of it when you said your farewell and you assured her you could never forget it. She asked you to wear it at the wedding.

You cradle it in your hands and give a bittersweet smile. You think of those days you played in the pastures and hopped over the fence where the sheep chewed on grass. How she would fearlessly run between the thick-bodied beasts as you worried for being bit. She has always been the braver of you two.

You pin the brooch to your dress and admire it in your reflection. You push your shoulders back and force a smile. You look yourself in the face.

“Yow gwace, I am so honawed to be yow wife.”

Your words hang like a noose. You throw your hands up and grunt in frustration. Stupid! You sound insipid. No matter how you try, or how the words sound in your head, they just come out all muddled.

“Edith,” you whimper, “I cannot…”

You lean forward and hold your head once more. You sit, ears thrumming, temples pulsing, your whole being hot with despair. The futility floods you and makes it hard to breathe.

There’s a knock at the door. You push yourself up, dizzy as you teeter on your feet. You swallow and stand as straight as you can. You lift your chin.

“Come in,” you beckon firmly.

Doreen lets herself through and you can’t help the relief that flows through you. You could not face your mother or the duke or another stranger. You lower yourself back to the stool and rest an elbow on the table, sideways as the maid eases the door shut. She lingers there, her hand on the oblong handle, as if she thinks to pull it open and flee.

“Doween,” you murmur as concern winds its way up your spine and tingle in your nape.

“My lady,” she faces you and you hear a sudden shriek. Your mother.

Doreen lowers her lashes and puts her hand to her chest. A shroud falls over you, even as the sunshine casts a yellow glow through the room, even as birds titter without, and ornaments sparkle all around. Her tone says more than any words can. You slump and stare at the maid’s wool collar.

You feel along the front of your own dress and clasp your fingers around the brooch.

“Edith is dead,” you say before she can.

She sniffles and comes forward. You shy away, turning to the vanity as you unpin the pendant. You lay it down and stand. The maid halts, hovering as you walk to the window. The tweeting of the sparrow grows to cacophony then silence all at once. The sky fades and the greenery hazes to an ugly smear.

You told Edith you would be brave. So you must. You can never replace her truly, but you can keep your promise. For her.

[thefirstknife]

I saw your Rasputin post earlier and I was wondering if you happen to have the link to the weblore you mentioned in the tags if it still exists?

I sure do! Legacy pt 1 and pt 2. The bit is in part 2!

“I got shot…” The realization doubles back. “I got shot?” Ana pats her chest and stiffens. She draws in shallow breath. “Jinju, did you see where it came from?” “Central ring. I dragged you into cover. Stop moving so much.” Ana peeks around the strut; an ion thread zips by and stings her helmet. Rasputin obliterates every square inch of ringlet within ten meters of the ion beam’s origin in response. Sections of the central ringlet combust and explode under heavy bombardment. The ring buckles, splitting along the seams and splaying out into space. Magnetic anchors fail as the halo fractures and splits away from the station's central architecture. Fragments rush away toward the planet; Caelus’ ruin falls to Uranus in lingering prolicidal consummation. “RASPUTIN STOP!” Laser fire halts immediately. “You’re gunna sink the whole station!”

Highly recommend reading the whole thing though! Really good for some stuff on Ana and Jinju (and Jinju's ... pets), Rasputin shenanigans and Golden Age shenanigans: Ana visits an old Golden Age space station orbiting Uranus which was Clovis' colonisation project - the ECHO ships that were meant to go to the Andromeda galaxy. Several years after this weblore, we'll learn about Soteria and how she stole one of the ECHO ships and crash landed on Neptune which leads to Neomuna! I was always intrigued about a bit in Legacy where it mentioned that one ship was still at the station, never launched, but one was missing. This was then clarified back in Seraph with Soteria which was a great throwback to this.

It's an interesting look into the Golden Age colonisation projects, something possibly relevant for Frontiers. Obviously this specific project never panned out (that we know of), but there were most likely others like it. We know that they were scanning systems outside of our own for potential and it was the sole purpose of Soteria's creation.

Really cool weblore, lots to read, Ana and Jinju are really cute, there's a Camrin mention, Rasputin is being Rasputin and there's even some space station psychological horrors of an Exo that was reset 2500+ times! For reference, it was released back in Season of the Worthy.

[vidyagamereference]

I have so many feelings about touchstarved character design pt 1 Kuras

So! First lets talk about how his whole outfit is just.... yassified priests garb. Like... the collar, the long sleeves, the "tabbard" straps, the gold. Its all very.... 3 peice suit high fashion is eating a catholic Fathers robes and a protestant Preists robes at the same time. Like the whole suit to me drips power.

Lets count off the different things that imply power to his outfit

Gold and stark white fabric (hard to clean and hard to find)

WELL TAILORED suit (high fashion)

J E W E L E R Y

Religious leader symbolism (Christian)

Fucking EPAULETS???

The hair (weird one but in animated/drawn mediums royalty tends to have longer hair)

If yall told me there was 1 person from Hightown (rich people land) and everyone else was from somewhere else and ONLY showed me the character lineup I'd pick Kuras as the hightowner tbqh.

More analysis under the break

Lets look at his "circles"

I dont have anywhere else to put this so... epaulets look like wings sleeves also imply wings. Makeup = crying gold. Gold bodily fluids = ichor. Ichor = divinity. that is all

A list of imperfect/broken circles/halos on kuras

There's attempted circles with his belts (inturrupted by his buckles and almost always at least two [i'll get to the one on his chest]). The buckles around his thigh in particular remind me of slashed circles.

There is an attempted circle on his chest (implying a flase homesty if you like the theory that veres chest is open bc hes more honest and kuras's is covered because hes more of a lier) that is left open by way of the empty preists collar. Like something religious was taken away. Its highly decorated so i think were ment to see it

The epaulets have some shape language of wings and halos imho and they also continue the trend of doubled up circuits (these are too angular to be circles but square triangular halos were in fact a thing)

His earrings are rayed halos (halos that have sunlight/sunbeams coming off of it) but even they somehow seem inturrupted by his ears when looking at how theres never a perfect circle. Another example of doubling round things

The golden cords on his hip (princely) are also imperfect circles and doubled up round things

What do the doubling up of round things (and honestly most things in some way or another. Makeup, vials on his chest, aprony tabbardy strappy things) mean? I dont know for sure but I'd wager its hinting at a few things

Broken halo

His Angelic body structure (see also: belt talk below)

A duality to his nature

Actually on the topic of halos he seems to imply a lot of shapes of halo! He obviously has the thin circular outline ones (for old testament prophets, angels, saints, Mary, and the symbol of the four evangelists according to Wikipedia), the triangle (less prominently) which is for The Holy Trinity (god jesus and the holy spirit),

and somewhat also (weirdly) square halos. Which was for.... *checks notes* celebrities who wanted to be painted like their blorbo jesus and friends... dont beleive me? Look at the fancy "not a belt buckle" thing he has and if its NOT giving painting frame I'll eat it.

Looking at the belt buckle square halo thing again it has been crossed out which makes me think that maybe kuras hates the rich and idolitry (komrade Kuras)

Another word for halo is glorihole. That is apropos of nothing i just had to learn that and yall do too now. Youre welcome

Anyways back on the topic

His too many belts moment at the hips really makes me think of the standard idea of a biblically accurate angel. Yknow. Rings of eyes around a central flame are a common depiction, the hidden rings on the inside are studded to look like false eyes to me. Especially so hidden behind a decorative false belt

The hiding of so much black (another dye reserved for royalty) under such pristine white makes me think hes lying to us, or at best putting up a facade.

THE ABOVE BEING SAID he only has two stripes of true black, the rest is a humble brown. And the belts look like theyre holding something in. I think theres a third layer to him

Layer 1: The Good Doctor Kuras Of Lowdown. Friends? You mean people im around so nobody suspects I'm not human! Yes i am human man and i eat human food!

Layer 2 possibilty a: MWAAHAHAHAHAHA I AM EEEEVILLLLLLL A FALLEN ANGEL!!! THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED ISNT IT?!?! [Edgelore noises] [terrified screams of those who just realized this edgelord could kill us all]

Layer possibly b: this is the [insert accurate adjective here] of a killer bell- I MEAN MC. emotions. Like 300 gallons of them in one sitting. Possible 0 sum game. More likely hes a living nuke and will Go Off somehow

Layer 3: hey I'm feeling less catholic guilt can i still go sorta wild ish and not be eeeevillll? And also maybe kiss? Also I'm not actually baby I'm just unsure of how to be myself in this new way will you help me figure it out [happy ending noises]

So yeah tell me if i missed anything :]

@hollana

[jayflying]

drop your design details/hybrid headcanons for characters youve discussed so far pls :p

To keep it short for now, I've chosen to limit that to meaning "characters I've shown y'all a POV piece from already", so Scott, Etho, Bdubs and Martyn.

Scott is 6' tall and, as far as anyone can tell, completely human! At least, at the start. His hair being naturally blue is a bit odd. And the pale scar across his left forearm that looks like something branded a square with the letter N there is definitely weird, but he doesn't remember how he got it, so… it's probably fine. After he dies for the first time in Third Life, he becomes visibly elven, with a halo of stars and rings of light floating around his wrists. He also gains an extra inch of height, putting him at 6'1". Somehow it's that last bit which confuses him the most. All his death-scarring is across his torso, so it's concealed beneath his clothes.

Martyn is 5'10" and also half-elven, but doesn't get any fun glowing lights out of it. (He's pretty sure glowing lights aren't even an elf thing.) All his elven heritage gives him is pointy ears and violently bright blond hair. Martyn usually wears a green short-sleeve hoodie and denim shorts, and refuses to take fashion advice or dress appropriately for the weather. It's not until late into Last Life that the weather gets cold enough to make him use a longer pair of pants. He has burn scars across the back of his legs after the desert explodes beneath his feet in Third Life, and an arrow scar running horizontally under his left eye after Impulse shoots him in the head. All his other death-scars are concealed.

Etho is 6'3" and looks like a perfectly normal human Player, aside from the white hair. He's incredibly fond of his green aviator jacket, and almost never takes it off. His mask covers his entire neck and jawline as well as just his face, and he would quite literally rather kill than take it off in front of other people. (Only six people have ever seen his face under the mask, although that number rises to nine by the end of Last Life.) The scar through his left eye is an arrow scar, and he doesn't get it until he's executed via firing squad in Third Life. His red eye is a redstone camera / prosthetic eye he makes after the fact. He also has massive amounts of burn scarring, but due to his outfit, it's only visible across his hands.

Bdubs is 5'7" and incredibly defensive about the fact that height is average. He seems human but probably isn't anymore. He's not sure. He doesn't like to think about it. He wears his moss hoodie tied around his waist for most of Third Life because it simply isn't cold enough to warrant wearing it yet. In Last Life, on the other hand, he almost never takes the thing off, except for on his red life, when he consistently keeps passing it off to Etho. (Etho wears it like a cape, tied around his shoulders.) The only visible death-scarring he picks up is burn scarring across his right arm and shoulder: all his other death-scars are concealed.

Some additional quickfire design facts:

In the Life Games, everyone's eye color changes to match their life count. The only exceptions to this are Tango (whose eyes are always red), Lizzie (whose eyes are always blue), and BigB (who has brown eyes until he hits his red life).

Communicators can't go in a Player's inventory, so everyone is always carrying them. For example: Scott's is kept in his back pocket, Martyn's is loosely strapped to his belt, Etho's is strapped to his left forearm and hidden under his sleeve, and Bdubs carries his in a small satchel bag.

Injuries and scars only carry over between respawns if they were the cause of a Player's Hardcore death or if that Player views them as important to their self-image. The only person in the Life Games that has any sentimental value scars is Skizz, though.

Once again, feel free to ask about specific characters if you have further questions, or if there's anyone else you'd like to hear design details about!

[ennaku-sirri-da]

Me Vs. Apolloneeun Beauty-- A comic PART 1

[ ID: A fancomic revolving around a teenaged Dr.Habit from Smile For Me the game and Saint Sebastian, a Christian saint. The songs set to it are Hounds Of Love and Pretty Boy.

Panel 1: Against the backdrop of a glittery sun, the words " Me (a silly face is drawn) Vs. Apolloneeun Beauty" are written. Simple flowers are dotted around, and there's a border of hyacinths.

Panel 2: Habit bounces a beaten up volleyball, appearing content, even serene. Here he has a more muppet like appearance. He has many bandaged scars. He wears his hair in pigtails held up by smiley flower bobbles. He wears a PE uniform with the words and logo of Saint Name High, the PE logo is a ball with wings and a cross through it. He wears wrist and knee protectors. The background is full of colorful smudges of oil pastels, and there's a sunny appearance to the whole picture.

Panel 3: Habit holds the ball and looks startled by something that has caught his attention. His eyes go wide. Thorny vines are drawn behind him. Then, he gives his full attention to the thing, looking up with pleading, adoring eyes. The previous vines burst into thornless flowered vines. Real flowers are scattered across the page, and every page following this.

The lyrics to Hounds Of Love by Kate Bush are written:

it's in the trees

it's coming!

Panel 4: This scene is shown in a simplified style. Habit looks left and right to make sure no one is around. Red eyes are drawn to show this symbolically, as well as a searchlight. ' LOADING..." is written. A person backs away under his stern glare.

The lyrics to Hounds Of Love are written:

When I was a child, running in the night

Afraid of what might be

Hiding in the dark

Hiding in the street

Panel 5: The whole panel is motion blurred. Habit reaches out his hand towards the thing, holding the ball close to his chest. He grinds his teeth and blushes, appearing very nervous and shaking. A (real) heart shaped leaf with a drawn halo behind it is placed near him. On it is is written the lyrics to Pretty Boy by Poutyface:

Picturing you( the 'you' is encircled by a real golden ring) wearing white saying

Then the lyrics to Hounds Of Love:

The hounds of love are hunting

I've been a coward

And I don't know whats good for me

Oh, here I go

Panel 6: A person's finger is drawn through a real silver ring. It's all drawn on a real wedding card. The finger bleeds, the blood dripping through the red decorative square part of the card and pooling, blooming into a drawing of a red rose. The lyrics to Pretty Boy by Poutyface read: " I Do"

The lyrics to Hounds Of Love read:

It's coming for me through

the trees

Oh help me, someone

Help me, darling, please. End ID]

Notes under the cut!!!

Pre-story:

So I HC Habit as trans( AFAB, so he presents as a girl here) and he went to a Catholic school!( though he followed a different branch of Christianity at home ). This is Habit in his sports uniform, in highschool

[ ID: Habit in his highschool sports uniform, as described in Panel 2. Here he has a more muppet like appearance. He has many bandaged scars. He wears his hair in pigtails held up by smiley flower bobbles. He wears a PE uniform with the words and logo of Saint Name High, the PE logo is a ball with wings and a cross through it. He wears wrist and knee protectors. His shoes are noted to be red and white. He looks happier. End ID]

He gets into sports because, like.

OK so I have these soft bras with hooks and designs that I really HATE. Get that away from me!!

So what if Habit has the same problem from his parents...He needs an excuse to wear sports bras atleast sometimes.

Yeah this is where it all really started XD

So I thought, damn....sports.

He probably lied on instinct that he plays chess and no one bought it. So he actually needs to join a game that requires those clothes. It all started with a bra literally.

And,,, well,,,

There's THIS GUY (he has a crush on)

As a protector from the bubonic plague, Sebastian was formerly one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers. In Catholicism, Sebastian is the patron saint of archers, pin-makers, athletes (a modern association) and of a holy death.''

American author Richard A. Kaye wrote in 1996 that "Contemporary gay men have seen in Sebastian at once a stunning advertisement for homosexual desire (indeed, a homoerotic ideal), and a prototypical portrait of tortured closet case." Some religious images depicting Saint Sebastian have been adopted by the LGBT community. A combination of his strong, shirtless physique, the symbolism of the arrows penetrating his body, and the countenance of rapturous pain have intrigued artists (gay or otherwise) for centuries. Sebastian's resilience in the face of persecution juxtaposed with the erotic elements of his suffering resonates particularly with the spiritual queer community ''

It's from Wikipedia I thought this was super neat!!! ALSO

"Terminal babe" dying of having a beautiful pre-Raphaelite mouth HSJSJS There's a humorous list about his various twinky depictions somewhere!

They're SO right he is a terminal babe.

There's a picture of him in the grounds where Habit goes to play because Sebastian is the patron saint of athletes.

Panel 1:

Apollonian has a meaning

Related to the god Apollo ORRR

(lowercase) serene, calm, or well-balanced; poised and disciplined.

(lowercase) having the properties of or preferring classic beauty.

And Saint Sebastian has once been called an example of it.

Theee golden circle is refernce to that halo iconography you see in religious art

And the hyacinth..

Hyacinthus was a male lover of the Greek sun god Apollo

He died tragically either due to accident or jealousy ( different myths I guess) and Apollo made him into a flower( the Hyacinth) to honor him.

As for the "Versus" sign ...woah I don't remember this level in Street Fighter 🧐 /J

Panel 2:

Establishing shot for our hero!!

I thought making the volleyball shitty would make it more personable

Also whenever I look at this...my mind goes " Strong gentle sweet Habit"🥺

I used oil pastels!!

Panel 3:

I die looking at the blorbo face in the bottom LMFAO someone pat him

Also!! I picked flowers from my cousins garden to use all throughout

Kept them in a lunchbox and my sister told her friend I was saving them to eat for later😔

I will also bring to you attention that the smiley flower bobbles in his hair have been colored in nearly every panel! Aesthetic choice XD also I really just doodled and did whatever for the coloring. It's all vibes in here and less planning- GAY VIBES

The thorns/ flowers are him opening up i guess!!

Also damn I'm realising how tame this starts out and how wild it gets LMAO

But it's still just. A bunch of Teen Feelings; Kid looks at wall-anyway-

Panel 4:

Throwback to the GAMEEE folks remember this little FUCKER

[ ID: A simplified version of Dr. Habit looking like it was crayon-drawn. He looks puppety. End ID]

He's just scouting the area in the panel, caught someone, situation defused

Or maybe he's figuring out where to spike the ball/J

Panel 5:

Here's where Pretty Boy starts( He saw the painting of St. Sebastian )( that's what caught his attention earlier )

I tried to make the onomatopoeia of him grinding his teeth! I think this is a really good panel in terms of emotion.

I thought I'd change the "Always been a coward" to " Been" more like, just his current state, because Habits usually more sure of himself I think?? But right now society and family and school is messing him up.

The gold ring is another " gold circle referencing divinity" -if you look you can see the ray-circle I tried to make with yellow markers and highlighter color lols

The heart is a real leaf and man I had like 4 dried leaves in my bag. Had to edit that one to bring out the red, they're red when they fall.

Speaking of my bag, it was damn near bursting with all the art supplies I packed for this in there, I looked like I was committing cousin house burglary

The bottom half is him "unravelling", alongwith the words which reflect that. And its all blurry and fast because NERVOUSE

Oh shit ALSO! The volleyball is a temporary metaphor for his heart

Panel 6:

The finger should be more slender but whatever!! It's clear later on whose it is but I'm telling ya now that's Seb bleeding...cus...arrows

And I got a great idea for doing that Blood>Box>Rose thing!

Heh heh, I was really just magpie-collecting things for my treasure, like the weeding card here. Also coincidentally I am reminded about how Habits actual BRO-RING from Kamal( in my AU, later in years) is silver LOL Vague symbolism really has me like😳

[fanby-fckry]

Raze Ref Sheet

Introducing my edgy Fallen angel OC! 12 year old me would be proud. :,)

Reference Pics:

Picrew – @/milqueandtoast

Picrew – @/Potato Lord

Picrew – @/thereisteainmyshoes

Content Warning: Self-harm (not-detailed), self surgery (not-detailed), canon-typical violence and murder

Basic Info:

Name: Raze Pronouns: It/its (but won’t correct anything other than she/her) Gender(s): Agender, boything, nonbinary, transmasc, transneu Gender Expression: Butch, masc Sex: FTX Orientation(s): Bi-angled aroace, bi-sensual, bi-aesthetic, bi-queerplatonic, romance-oscillating, sex-averse, kink-favorable Species: Fallen Exorcist/Fallen angel Age: 20’s (biologically), 50’s (chronologically)

Appearance:

Distinguishing Features: White feathered wings with patches of light red resembling bloodstains; black claws and black fingers Hair Color: White Hair Texture: Straight; brittle Hair Style: Side shave (right), hair goes down a little past its shoulders Eyes: White irises with dull red scleras Skin: Very light grey, almost white; black claws and fingertips Face: Square jaw; sharp cheekbones; crooked nose; large eyes; thick eyebrows; sharp teeth and lopsided smile Body Type: Relatively thin with wiry muscles; flat chest; boxy/androgynous frame Height: ≈ 5’5” Scars: Top surgery scars; multiple scars on arms and legs of various sizes (all from angelic steel blades) Body Modifications: Septum piercing, multiple ear piercings in right ear Clothing: Black, backless, sleeveless turtleneck; black, men’s jeans; black, angelic steel-toe boots; silver chains on its belt; two sheaths for angelic steel daggers, one on either leg; angelic steel arm-guards on both forearms, hidden under black fabric; black leather choker with an inverted pentacle; aroace rings (black ring on right-hand middle finger for ace, white ring on left-hand middle finger for aro)

Backstory:

Once a formidable Exorcist, Raze Fell when it killed one of its comrades during an Extermination.  It had a reputation among angels for being “difficult,” and often fought with other Exorcists, including its superiors; it generally avoided Winners. Its destructive tendencies extended to self-injury, and it discovered that angelic steel can cause permanent damage to Exorcists after one of its self-inflicted wounds scarred. Its decision to kill its comrade was impulsive, but it was fairly sure the damage would be permanent.  The two Exorcists had fought before, and Raze certainly harbored a grudge against her.  Once the deed was done, Raze opted not to return to Heaven, knowing there was nothing for it there. It found Heaven boring and restrictive, anyway, and disliked most angels—especially Adam. Damnation was an escape from a gilded cage, and it regrets nothing. After Falling, Raze shed the name (and pronouns) Adam gave it, and chose to name itself after the destruction it harolds.  It no longer identified with its Heavenly nature or femininity, and embraced inhumanity and gender nonconformity. Through some experimentation with self-expression, it began making alterations to its body, including piercings, top surgery, and testosterone shots, as well as growing out its hair, except for one side which it keeps shaved. Some changes were simply a natural result of long-term exposure to Hell.  Its halo dropped, its wings changed colors, its teeth sharpened, and its fingernails morphed into claws and changed colors, claws and fingers turning black.

Currently:

Raze lives a transient lifestyle, wandering the seven Rings without calling any of them home.  It seldom makes friends and often makes enemies.

Personality:

Volatile, impulsive, destructive.  Prone to violence, both towards others and itself.  Easily bored.  Earning its loyalty is near impossible, but if you manage it, you will never get rid of it.

Abilities:

Enhanced strength and reflexes

Skilled with multiple weapons (daggers, swords, spears) and hand to hand combat

Regeneration and accelerated healing (from injuries not made by angelic steel)

Night vision (tapetum lucidum)

Flight

Multilingualism (English, Enochian, Tongues)

Voice:

Raze has a strong, somewhat rough, androgynous voice with a higher pitched, cackling laugh. It can switch tones quickly, from distant and condescending, to sadistic and manic, to dark and threatening.

Music:

Leitmotif: TBD Song-Style: An unholy combination of folk, country, rock, and alternative Singing Voice: Strong, powerful; generally in alto-tenor range, but can hit some impressive high notes; can be very animalistic when singing: growling and howling when the mood calls for it. Dance Style: Dances like it fights (idk; I’m not a choreographer)

Fighting Style:

Angelic steel daggers deal slash and stab damage

Occasionally bludgeons opponents by kicking them with its angelic steel toed boots

Can use other weapons and fight hand-to-hand, but prefers daggers and boots

Uses its angelic steel arm-guards to block attacks

Prefers to parry or block over dodging

Uses flight to improve mobility and gain advantage against non-flying opponents

Quick, rough, unpredictable

Fights dirty; doesn’t pull punches

Misc. Facts:

Raze was created by Adam using the rib tree method.

Raze gave itself its piercings using angelic steel needles

Raze preformed its own top surgery using angelic steel, after several practice runs with non-angelic tools; the non-angelic surgeries were subject to regeneration, but the final project healed roughly the way it would on a human

Its halo fell off on its own shortly after Falling; sometimes a dark/shadowy version of a halo is visible above its head while fighting or emotional

Raze likely would’ve been expelled from Heaven for infighting and disregard for authority. I once likened its Fall to “…being a few writeups shy of getting fired, and deciding to stab your least favorite coworker, steal a bunch of office supplies, and flee the country about it,” and I stand by that.

I know Hellaverse characters don’t have ears unless they’re animal ears, and Raze’s design does, but I like humanoid ears, ok? 😭 It wouldn’t have ears in the Hellaverse style, but if I ever draw it, it’s getting ears.

[birgittesilverbae]

hi so since shannon survives in babea au 🥺 would she and mary ever think of getting married?

v normal about this

in the wake of losing the halo, shannon remains a sister warrior for a few months, but it doesn't feel right, the way she feels rejected by god, the way beatrice is barely on speaking terms with her, the pitying looks she gets in the halls of the convent. she leaves the church quietly, mother superion giving her blessings and her understanding, but remains with the order in the way the mary exists within it, as an outsider standing at the periphery, held only by a handful of a commandments and the family she's found amongst her sisters

she moves in with mary, has been dating her for about five years at that point, but is more focused on doing what she can to keep bea safe from vincent than she is on their relationship, which is a homecoming and a safe haven and on the backburner for two women trying to protect the teens they love. (the visions, the knowledge of the betrayal, come earlier in this 'verse because vincent is giftwrapped a warrior nun who has grown up under his care, who he has groomed to be the warrior nun adriel needs). 

ronda happens, and bea's relationship with shannon resettles, and bea allows herself to listen to what shannon's been trying to tell her all along. that vincent cannot be trusted. that trusting him would lead to her downfall.

vincent gets squared away, and bea can focus on becoming number one efficient warrior nun, and mary and shannon can relax a fraction, relax a hair (can never fully relax when bea is a reliquary and a raw wound and a scar). they learn to live with each other in their new normal, shannon in the first freedom she's ever truly had

it's mary who raises the question late one night, after a family dinner at which lilith had made some jab or another about them basically being married already. it's just an initial conversation, she says, just seeing whether they're on the same page about where they want this to go (mary, her trust shattered by vincent, always, always hedging her bets), but shannon takes mary's face in her hands and forces her to make eye contact and tells her this is the only place she wants to be. that if mary feels the same way, then there's no point wasting time not being engaged

they go get rings the next day, matching white gold bands and chains to wear the other's on around their neck when they're in the field. they quickly end up getting silicone rings too for daily wear, spend most of their time wearing the other's engagement band around their neck. they keep it quiet, beyond telling bea and by extension lilith, and bea snaps into action planning their wedding

it's a small affair, on the overlook in ronda, where the four of them had stood in the early dawn so many months before and revelled in their survival. lilith stands for shannon, their bond grown so much closer in the aftermath of shannon losing the halo and lilith being passed over for bea. bea stands for mary, feeling every year between them in the ache in her heart, at mary's shoulder the way mary has so often stood at hers. bea has both their rings tucked in the breast pocket of her suit (having been ragged on for being the ring Bearer for months), and mary squeezes her hand affectionately when she passes them over

mother superion conducts the service, tries desperately to contain her tears but to no avail, and shannon holds a hand out for her to take, to support her, to remind her that at least one of her girls has made it out of the meat grinder alive, that at least one of her girls has found safety and happiness