#talented flutter developers

[rubengrey]

Tap into India's Tech Talent: Boost Your Agency with Skilled Flutter Developers

The journey of India becoming a huge talent pool started back in the establishment of the IT industry back in 1980. Back in those days, top mobile app development firms began their operations on the back of software development, and their major supporter was the Indian education system.

The evolution of tech-centric academies generated regional talent in considerable numbers for Indian IT firms.

A startup ecosystem is one of the other crucial aspects of the Indian IT industry. Startup culture began in 2008. Today, India has 25,000 startups, including 100+ unicorns (startups worth $1 Bn or more).

India’s Emergence as a Global Talent Hub for Tech Companies

India is known as the world’s most populous country. But what makes Indian talents so appealing to global employers?

Among them are skilled talent available in large numbers and cost-effectiveness. By 2021, India had become home to the biggest tech talent pool globally with six million professionals in its IT work sphere. This network is expected to expand to 8 million by 2025, fueled by the consistent production of tech talent each year. Additionally, the country’s expertise in custom app development services continues to attract businesses seeking top-quality, tailored solutions.

Reasons Why You Should Hire a Flutter Developer from India

1. You Gain Access to Highly Skilled Talent

Hiring Indian software developers is like finding a treasure chest. It has unique tech talent.

Here are some reasons that prove the exceptional skill of Indian Flutter developers:

World-Class Education: India has a strong education system. It produces graduates from top engineering colleges and universities. This system produces a workforce with top skills and a solid theoretical base.

Diverse Expertise: The curriculum and practical sessions build a wide skill set. Experts in every programming language, framework, and platform are here. So, it’s easy to find the perfect fit for custom app development.

Adaptability & Innovation: Indian developers are renowned for their quick learning and problem-solving abilities. They excel in busy environments, readily adjusting to new technologies and delivering creative solutions to difficult problems.

Global Experience: Many Indian developers work with international clients, gaining a deep understanding of global best practices and work cultures.

When you hire Flutter developers from India, you tap into a pool of talent that’s not just skilled but also adaptable, collaborative, and experienced, making them an excellent choice for custom app development services.

To hire Flutter developers, you need to read this for a better overview: Points to Follow While Hire Flutter Developer in 2024.

2. Minimal Communication Barrier

One significant advantage of hiring Indian programmers is the ease of communication. For businesses in the West, developers fluent in English are often a top priority.

Fortunately, when you hire Indian software developers, this becomes a given. An estimated 135 million people in India speak English, and many developers are proficient graduates. This means you can expect minimal to zero communication barriers when you hire remote developers from India, including those from top mobile app development firms.

Here are some solid reasons to back this benefit:

English Proficiency: India has a big league of English-speaking developers who make sure that their communications are clear, simple, and devoid of cultural misinterpretations. Consequently, the software development process is streamlined thereby avoiding project holdups caused by communication.

Active Listening & Clarification: Indian developers are known for their attentive nature. They actively listen to understand your needs and ask questions for clarification, minimizing rework and ensuring timely project deliverables.

Strong Technical Writing: Indian developers excel in technical writing, whether it’s documenting code, crafting reports, or collaborating on project plans.

Cultural Awareness & Adaptability: Indian developers easily understand different cultures so they can vary their mode of communication to match it.

Basically, selecting Indian Flutter developers from top mobile app development companies means you are not only bringing in people well-versed in your language but also able to chat with them on almost any topic.

3. Leverage the Time Zone Difference to Your Advantage

India operates on a single time zone, IST (UTC+05:30). While this might initially seem like a challenge, it can be beneficial.

By hiring Indian Flutter developers, you can take advantage of continuous productivity throughout the day. Here’s how the time zone difference can work to your advantage:

24/7 Development Cycle: While you sleep, your dedicated Indian Flutter developers continue working on your custom app development services. Their schedule aligns with your evenings and weekends, ensuring that work progresses seamlessly even when your team is offline.

Responsive Communication: Early morning emails? No problem. Indian Flutter developers are often functional during your working hours, guaranteeing fast responses and real-time issue-solving. This availability helps keep your project on track and prevents communication bottlenecks.

Overlapping Work Hours: Strategically schedule meetings or collaboration sessions to take advantage of the time zone overlap. This allows both teams to participate actively, maximizing efficiency and fostering stronger working relationships.

Flexible Workflow: By hiring Flutter developers from India, you can embrace asynchronous communication. Use project management tools and clear documentation to ensure smooth progress despite the time difference.

Overall, the time zone difference can be a significant strategic advantage. Hiring Indian Flutter developers for your custom app development services enables you to leverage a 24/7 development cycle, accelerating your project and achieving your goals faster.

4. There are Different Ways to Hire Flutter Developers from India

It’s important for a business to maintain control over the hiring process. Outsourcing and remaining flexible can both be realized at the same time. How? Many reputable Top mobile app development firms already know about international business challenges and offer flexible alternatives for their developmental services.

Here are some key benefits of leveraging the adaptable hiring policies offered by Indian IT outsourcing:

Scalability On-Demand: Need more hands on deck for a short-term project? One can find Indian Flutter developers available on freelancer websites, outsourcing agencies, or through IT staff augmentation service providers.

Project-Based Engagements: No more commitments. India has several Flutter developers and software companies that hire on a project basis, thus enabling you to contract the services of some of the best professionals for specific assignments without being burdened with a full-time employee.

Remote Work Expertise: Collaborating with Flutter developers in India enables you to embrace the work-from-anywhere culture. These professionals are adept with remote collaboration tools and excel in virtual environments, making them ideal for custom app development services.

Reduced Risk & Increased Agility: Want to test the waters before committing? Flexible hiring options let you assess talent and project fit before making long-term decisions. This approach reduces your risks and increases your agility in adapting to changes in needs.

In summary, hiring Indian programmers enables you to try different models such as project-based engagements, offshore development, or staff augmentation. This enables you to build the perfect team for your custom app development needs on your terms.

5. Address Talent Shortages by Hiring Indian Flutter Developers

In the US and UK, finding skilled IT professionals can be a challenge due to limited resources and high demand. By hiring Indian Flutter developers, you can overcome these obstacles and avoid concerns about skill shortages. Here’s why:

Developer Shortage in the US: There is a severe shortage of skilled developers in America resulting in numerous vacancies. This rarity hikes salaries and makes it difficult to attract appropriate candidates.

Software Developer Abundance In India: On the contrary, India has a huge IT skill base with about 5.2 million software developers projected by 2023. Due to this huge pool of talent, it’s easier to recruit competent personnel and have access to various experts

Future Proofing Your Tech Stack: The schools of India focus on modern technical education that produces graduates who are knowledgeable on emerging technologies like artificial intelligence (AI), machine learning (ML), and cloud computing. This guarantees that your tech stack stays up-to-date and that you have access to talent skilled in driving innovation.

By leveraging India’s abundant talent pool and cost advantages, you can effectively bridge the talent gap and gain a competitive edge in the global market.

In Conclusion

The key advantages of hiring Flutter developers from India include cost savings and a global talent pool. The other important benefits that are seen when working with such teams are their ability to offer specialized skills, easy communication between employees from different parts of the world, and time zone overlap which makes it easier for the company to work.

Additionally, you can explore various engagement models like hourly or project-based hiring to get dedicated services for custom app development assignments. If you engage one of the best mobile app development companies in India, you will be able to access multiple good programmers who will write an application as per your specifications.

Maximize these benefits by working with reputable software development companies or by choosing developers with impressive portfolios. This way, clients receive quality custom app development services and have access to world-class professionals.

Moreover, utilizing this resource is what will keep you ahead in a rapidly evolving tech landscape, make your project more innovative, and see that your business goals are achieved quickly. With the right partner, one can fast-track their development timelines; bring costs down, and execute their vision more effortlessly as well as accurately than ever before.

[natalievoncatte]

“Hey,” Kara said, “want to grab something for lunch?”

Seated at her desk, Lena waved her hand dismissively, even though she was only talking to Kara on the phone.

“I can’t. I have too much to do.”

“You’re the boss, you can just take off. Everyone has to do what you say.”

Lena rolled her eyes. There was a hint of teasing in Kara’s voice, but Lena meant it. L-Corp was in the final stages of a major acquisition. Lena was taking over an AI startup that was developing a key technology for one of her medical division products, and to make it viable she needed their patents, IP, and scientific talent.

“I really am swamped.”

“Can’t you spare half an hour? For me? I want to make sure you’re not starving yourself again.”

Lena sighed. The teasing was replaced with a genuine concern, now. Lena had admitted to Kara that she lost five the last time she got caught up in something for three weeks. Of everyone she mentioned it to, Kara was the only one who didn’t congratulate her. She worried, she fussed, and she fed Lena that night.

“Okay,” said Lena. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten, does that sound…”

“I’m already here.”

Kara then opened the door and walked in, smirking. Lena’s breath caught when she saw her. Kara had her hair in an elaborate braid and was dressed for the blistering summer heat in a green sun dress and sandals. Joy sparkled in her blue eyes and she smiled wide.

“We could get delivery,” said Lena.

“Nope! Fresh air! It’s good for you!”

Lena sighed and allowed herself to be bundle outside, throwing on a hat and sunglasses. Since she was in the office on a Saturday and had let herself in, she had dressed casually and the heat was tolerable while they walked.

They spent the trip in companionable silence. Kara walked close to her, a presence just to Lena’s right that seemed to electrify the air, like something pulling between them.

Lena noticed things. Like how Kara always walked between her and the road, and how the way her arms would swing always seemed to leave Kara’s pinky brushing the outside of Lena’s hand. Sometimes she’d mumble an apology. Sometimes not. Sometimes Lena would feel the tender touch, and find Kara looking at her oddly, a soft wistful smile on her face that made Lena melt.

Sometimes she thought about catching her hand. Sometimes she thought about stopping and meeting that look, gently asking what Kara was so intent about. She never did, because as much as she enjoyed that fluttering feeling in her belly, she was certain Kara was straight.

It was like an ache she just couldn’t stop, dull and pulsing at the back of her mind. One soft brush of Kara’s lips on her own would be more than-

“Hey,” Kara said. “You’re a million miles away.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, realizing that she’d been staring this time. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about work.”

There was a nearly imperceptible flash of concern and sadness on Kara’s face, the tiniest hint of a frown that made Lena want to cup her cheek and whisper an apology, but didn’t.

“This is it,” said Kara. “Try to relax, alright?”

Lena sighed her best promise and followed Kara in to a quaint little lunch spot with air conditioning and big ceiling fans mounted high overhead, and they took their seats.

Kara ordered for her -you need protein, Lena!- and she spent the next forty-five minutes picking at a turkey wrap and listening to Kara chatter excitedly about gossip and work and who was dating who at CatCo and a big story she was working on. Lena knew she had a lopsided smile on her face and was nodding along, as much for the delight of Kara’s excitement. She did little voices when she imitated her coworkers and got animated when talking about her story.

Lena barely said a word.

“You’re quiet,” Kara finally said.

I’m in love with you, Lena thought.

“I’m just tired. I was listening. You think Elliot is dating… Katie?”

Kara smirked at her.

“I wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard. There’s more to life than work.”

Kara rested her hand atop Lena’s, and Lena felt her heart flip in her chest.

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, this project just means a lot to me.”

“Let’s get you back before the building burns down,” said Kara.

Lena felt a little guilty as they walked into the bar to pay the bill. For some reason, Lena felt a little thrill when Kara insisted on paying, and the host looked at Lena and then smirked at Kara.

They turned, snd a man stepped up to Lena.

“Luthor!” he shouted. “You ruined my fucking life!”

Lena froze, wide-eyed, about to ask what she did. The man raised the gun he had hidden in the pocket of his sweatshirt and fired. The sound was incredible, stabbing at her ear drums and filling the world with a dull ringing. She stumbled back into the bar.

Kara’s fist was clenched in front of her chest, her eyes wide and expression wild. Kara snapped her attention to the gunman, who fired again.

She stepped between the gun and Lena. Five more shots went off and seemed to rumple her dress with tiny bursts of wind, but then Lena saw the bullets had torn the fabric before they tumbled to the floor.

Kara swept her hand and yanked the gun out of his hand, and it fell to the floor in a crumpled mass, sliding along the tiles.

She changed. It was as if she grew taller, wider, expression hardening. She grabbed the attacker by his collar and hauled him off the floor with one hand, and Lena felt a pang of fear as fire literally blazed in her eyes.

When she put a hand on Kara’s shoulder, the muscles were coiled like steel cables.

“Don’t” she caught herself whispering.

Kara threw him. He slid across the floor and thumped against the wall, and she strode over and planted her foot on his chest, easily pinning him. He stared up at her in naked shock.

Kara touched her ear. “Alex, get to my location asap. Someone just tried to kill Lena. We need a cleanup.”

Lena stared at her.

It wasn���t five minutes before her sister, in full tactical gear, led a team of armed agents into the cafe and bundled up Lena’s assailant, dragging him away. They took the crumpled gun and the fallen bullets and began talking to the other patrons and staff.

Lena started to shake.

Kara focused on her instantly and led her outside, where “FBI” vans were waiting. Kara stepped into one and in half a second, without seeming to break stride, stepped back into view in full Supergirl regalia.

Lena almost fell. He knees went wobbly and she slumped, right into Kara’s arms. Kara scooped her up in a single fluid motion and lifted off as Lena took a death grip on the collar of her suit and buried her face in Kara’s neck.

Moments later they lighted on Lena’s balcony. Kara pushed the door aside, ignoring the very expensive lock that popped off as she did, and carried her inside.

Bolting, Lena ran to the bathroom. Her entire body had gone cold, like she’d been dunked in ice water. She sagged to her knees and grabbed the toilet, retching.

Kara was there. A soft, reassuring hand rubbed her back while the other tenderly and expertly gathered her hair. Lena couldn’t help it; she struggled to hold on her lunch, shaking, screaming between retches.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you.”

“He almost killed me,” Lena choked out. “If you weren’t there I’d be dead.”

Kara sat down, and pulled Lena into her lap, rocking her softly until the shaking subsided before standing up, easily carrying her out of the room.

A glass of water helped. Kara was attentive, gently, softly encouraging while the adrenaline shakes ravaged Lena.

Kara was Supergirl. It seemed weirdly obvious to her now. She looked up and realized that Kara hadn’t unbraided her hair, and the effect was disconcerting. Kara took Lena in her arms again, hugging her tight.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you, you’re safe now.”

Lena took in a deep breath, drinking her scent as Kara rubbed her back and did the same, burying her face in Lena’s hair.

“You’re going to be okay,” Kara murmured, “it’s alright.”

“I’m so tired of this,” Lena whimpered. “What did I do? Why did he want to hurt me?”

“You don’t deserve to live this way,” said Kara.

“Oh God,” said Lena. “I have to… the acquisition, my work…”

Kara seized her head in her hands, firmly yet gently, cupping Lena’s cheeks in her palms. Kara stared at her with shocking intensity, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Fuck your work,” Kara almost shouted. “I care about you. You, Lena! You’re more than… you… I…”

Lena stared back at her, in shock at the intensity in her voice, even moreso than the out of character f-bomb. Kara was still holding her, looking at her with such fullness of feeling, biting her lip and struggling to hold back tears and failing, that Lena couldn’t stop herself. She lunged, diving into Kara, hugging her.

Lena hugged Kara, but Kara was the one to kiss her first. Their lips met in a nearly painful crash, Kara diving into her like she might never see her again.

Oh.

It was a wild sensation, this adrenaline shock combined with the feeling of Kara’s powerful arms wrapped around her, fingers that could crush diamonds gripping her hip and the back of her neck, the way Kara stood tall over her and her boots thumped on the floor when she took a step.

“You mean everything to me.”

Lena sucked in a breath and swallowed a sob.

Oh.

“Don’t leave,” Lena chirped out. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I won’t.”

Lena finally felt herself slowing down, but it left her drained, barely able to stand. She slumped against Kara and stayed there, clinging to her.

“I’m going to change,” Kara murmured. “Easy.”

She lowered Lena onto the sofa and she curled in the corner, huddled in a ball.

Then Kara reached to her shoulders unclasped one side of her cape, then the other. With a flourish she swung it wide and swept it over Lena as a blanket.

“Stay right here.”

She wasn’t gone long. In mere moments she was there in a t-shirt and shorts, wrapping herself around Lena.

It took hours for Lena to finally calm down, and by then she’d fallen asleep on Kara’s shoulder. When she woke up, Kara was teasing her fingers along Lena’s scalp and singing softly. It took a moment for Lena to realize that the clipped, rhythmic language had to be Kryptonian.

“Are you okay?”

Lena nodded.

“It was different this time. People have tried to kill me before but… it was different. He was just some guy in a cafe.”

“Lena,” Kara murmured, “look at me.”

Lena looked up, meeting Kara’s soft, intent gaze.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Lena’s heart swelled. It felt so real, so true. Kara meant it, every bit of it, from the depths of her being. Lena tucked in closer to her and sighed on her shoulder.

“Work can wait until Monday,” Lena whispered.

“Tuesday,” Kara corrected.

“Can you stay tonight?” said Lena. “Just to sleep,” she added.

“Of course.”

They were silent to a while.

“Lena?”

“Yeah.”

“About earlier, if I… overstepped, I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

Lena sucked in a sharp breath.

“It means everything.”

“Oh,” said Kara.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 14 - Role Playing]

Pairing: Good Boy!JK + Mommy Dom!Reader

Genre: married life!AU, for the sake of the role play: forbidden love!AU, CEO!Reader, prostitute!Jungkook

Kinks: the trope of subby boy totally enthralled by his Domme, sex worker role play, sugar Mommy roleplay, he calls her both Mistress & Mommy, exhibitionism, handjob & blowjob in the car to the hotel room, he is so whiney and subby and pretty as she does it, orgasm control, cock rings, bondage gear which is also used later on, handjob in the hotel room, temperature play with ice cubes, slight food play, masochist!Jungkook, praise, nipple play, mirror sex, subby boy tears, suit kink (she wears the suit), creampie, passionate sex in Amazon Position with his hands tied to his legs, possessive talk, he is THE subby boy, loving & giggly aftercare, they're so in loVE!!!!

Wordcount: 7.4k

a/n: this is based on these two asks 💛 i love him so much holy fuck the drink feeding part ruined me KFADKSF actually everything about this ruined me, you have no idea. he is quite frankly, my ideal subby boy and i might need to leave this earth to go touch some alien grass or smth

Jungkook was told to wait at the usual spot. He arrived earlier tonight, so he has been pacing, asking himself whether or not you would come. You never stood him up before, but there is a first for everything. 

A few people pass him, paying him no mind. They would look at him weird if they knew what he was wearing under his oversized clothes. It was a dark gray matching set of baggy pants and a baggy t-shirt, hiding bondage gear under it. The harness was black in colour and made of the finest leather. It doesn’t hurt nor pinch, but Jungkook definitely feels it when he moves. 

He checks the time again. You should be here any second now. He feels a little breathless at the aspect. He can’t wait to see you. He knows that someone in his position has no right to feel this way, but he can’t help himself. You always treat him right, making sure that he leaves each session lightheaded. Sometimes Jungkook wonders if he should even feel this way as someone who gets paid to have sex with you, but he does. That’s what he is. Someone whose job is sex. He gets a call or a text telling him to wait here and there with the aspect of having to perform sexual activities for the person contacting him. There are a few he doesn’t answer anymore when they contact him and there are such he wishes they would contact him each night. Quite frankly, you are the only one he has such wishes for. It was purely professional at first, but then your gentle nature and immense sexual talent made him develop feelings for you. When he got the text tonight, Jungkook almost screamed in happiness. 

His excitement grows at the view of your sports car rolling up to him. He tries not, but still ends up bouncing on his tiptoes as he waves at you with a big grin. He can’t help himself. He is so, so excited.

The car you are driving is black and imported from Europe. It stops in front of him and the passenger window rolls down. 

“Hi, how are you?” he greets you cheerfully.

“Good. Get in”, you order, leaning over to unlock the passenger door.

Jungkook gets inside, holding his breath as you reach over his body to get the seatbelt. He squeezes his thighs together, gazing at your face. Your arm brushes against his chest, making his skin feel charged. Your scent so close is making his racing heart flutter.

The seatbelt clicks in place, you fumble with it a little to check its tightness. Once you are happy with it, you place your hand on his thigh, connecting your lips with the side of his neck in a long, sensual kiss. Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes and parting his lips. His fingers instinctively grasp your hand, his hips roll up against nothing.

You end the kiss by sucking a slight mark on his skin, purring happily. 

“I missed your scent this week”, you rasp, inhaling him greedily. 

Jungkook moans, fucking the air again. He already feels lightheaded and it has only been seconds with you. 

“Fuck, that’s what I needed”, you purr and sit up. You abandon his thigh for the sake of grasping his chin gently, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “You look pretty tonight.”

“Thank, thank you” he barely gets out in a croaky whisper, feeling starstruck. 

You give him a faint smile and slip your hand away, gripping the gear stick instead to shift it into the right position. The car drives off smoothly. You keep both hands on the steering wheel until you successfully merged back into traffic, then slip your right onto Jungkook’s thigh. 

He inhales sharply, squirming on the seat. 

“How was your week?” you ask him, rubbing mindless circles into his skin. Jungkook dedicates one more part of his soul to you with each circle.

“Good.”

“Yeah? Had lots of work?” 

“I tried not to book too many.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because I knew you would call. I wanted to save myself.”

You scoff in surprise, “hah.” You tongue your cheek and glance at him briefly. “Tch”, the chuckle starts as a scoff. You turn on the radio and touch his thigh again. “You should be careful with the words you’re saying.”

The music you are playing is laced with the taste of sex. You definitely chose it on purpose.

Jungkook shifts needily, finding it difficult to breathe normally. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m not the one who’ll end up crying tonight.”

Jungkook touches your hand. It was so needy in nature, drawing a knowing smirk onto your painted lips. 

You are wearing a suit and tie like always when you pick him up. The suit is grey tonight and you matched a white button up and a dark grey tie with it. The waistcoat is made of the same material as the suit, hugging your curves. You wear your hair in a professional manner and put makeup on. Jungkook is very attracted to you when you look like this. The amount of power and influence you exude makes him want to kiss every footstep you leave. 

You slip your hand to his thigh again. You are currently standing at a red light. There are cars all around you, painting your faces is a mixture of red and white lights. Jungkook spots the sparkles of diamond earrings in the light.

“Are you wearing the harness I told you to wear?” you ask him, rubbing his thigh back and forth. Jungkook tingles each time your hand brushes over his inner thigh.

“Yes, I am.”

“Show me.”

Jungkook glances around himself. You, who feels his hesitation, look at him.

“Go on. What are you waiting for?” you stress him. 

With a fluctuating pulse, Jungkook lifts the shirt over his torso, aware of the cars around you. 

“Mhm, how pretty”, you say dryly. “Good. Hide it again. We don’t want others to see what I pay for.” 

Jungkook makes sure that the shirt is tugged down neatly. His eyes meet yours. You are expecting something from him.

“Well go ahead, will you?”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry”, he stammers and lifts his hips to pull down his pants, exposing the fact that he is wearing no briefs. His slightly hardened cock carries a cockring on its base. Glimpses of more gear going down his legs can be seen. 

“There we go. It wasn’t that hard. Get dressed.”

He obeys quickly, sitting back down with a way heavier cock than before. You are already fucking him without having to do anything. Jungkook is so deeply under your spell.

The traffic continues. You drive off, switching lanes after a while. It will take you around ten minutes to get to the hotel. 

You bury your hand in his pants and take a hold of his cock. 

“A-ah”, Jungkook lets out in honest surprise, gripping the edge of the seat as his entire butt lifts off the seat in a needy thrust.

“You know the rules”, you tell him and then no more words leave your lips. 

The only noises are the city around you. Other cars, your own car, the music on the radio. They fill the silence you create. Jungkook helps as well; in breathy gasps and shy whimpers he fills the car together with the slick sound of your hand jerking him off. 

Your eyes are glued to the traffic, you tap your unoccupied hand on the steering wheel to the music. It is as if you were completely unaffected by the situation and you definitely want to give off this vibe. 

Jungkook can’t mirror your state. He is done for. Your hand knows his cock so well, touching him exactly where it feels the best. He goes from soft to rapidly hard from only a few strokes, meeting your touch in needy thrusts.

Truly the contrast is way too delicious. You, completely stoic and calm as you steer through traffic and Jungkook, utterly ruined and panting with shaky legs as he completely forgets that traffic might actually see him. 

You stop at a red light again. Only two more to go before the hotel. You look at him. 

His head is thrown back, his mouth agape and his eyes closed. What a beautifully arousing sight to see. 

You tug his cock out of his pants and use the moment of wait to steal a taste. You sink him in completely, purring around him. 

Jungkook moans. There is no way in hell he would have stayed quiet. Not when you bury him in your tight throat and send vibrations through him with your voice. 

Two more purrs then you slip off, sucking on him hungrily the entire time.

Blop.

You slipped off, licking your lips as you straighten back up. Jungkook whimpers, chasing you with a sloppy cock and throbbing balls. He is leaking so much precum, base stretching out the rubber cockring.

The red light switches. You drive off, playing with his precum by rubbing his cockhead with your thumb. Jungkook is almost louder than the music at this point, head now resting on the spot between the seat and the window and back arched. 

You don’t acknowledge him, steering your car with one hand. You have to switch lanes one more time and then you are already where you need to be. You do so calmly and safely all while your hand closes around his tip again to jerk it. Quickly, as if you were vibrating around him. Jungkook’s legs begin shaking, he drags out his moans, squeezing his eyes shut to the point they crinkle. 

The car rolls to stop again. The red light, the last one before you take the driveway to the hotel. You lean over and sink him back into your mouth, slurping deliciously as you move your tongue as best as possible.

“Mistress!” Jungkook wails, reaching up to twist the seatbelt. His other hand grips the head rest, dimpling it deeply. He is mewling so much, throbbing in your mouth constantly while you messy him with sloppy oral. 

You moan and purr deeply, enjoying every second of his cock, every fucking inch. You swallow him to the base, crying no tears nor feeling the need to gag because you stopped having such reactions years ago because in reality, your lives were flipped once. 

This right here, tonight, is nothing but pretend between a loving married couple. Jungkook has never been a sexworker before nor was he ever paid to have sex with someone. You have no interest in being a CEO nor for you to pay him for sex. In reality, you were once the one he paid after a long day of being CEO until you fell in love and started a life together. One thing however will always be true. Your roles of power. Jungkook will always be your sub while you will always be his Domme. Even in this roleplay tonight. You are both so into it that it feels real. Right now Jungkook is the prostitute who should be used to blowjobs but who is currently losing his control while you are the hungry CEO needy for the taste of her favourite prostitute. You can’t get enough of him, but alas the traffic continues. 

You slip off messily, letting your strings of saliva slap down his cock. You pick them up with your hand, using their slick to jerk off his cock. Jungkook barely wants to stay in his seat, pressing himself into the door wall.

“Mo-ommy ple-please”, he sobs, scrunching his face. He lets out the most devastating noises afterwards, twisting the seatbelt.

You ignore him, ogling the hotel in the near distance. You are so turned on. It’s difficult to drive at this point because of it. Jungkook turns you on so much. His noises are like ecstasy to you. 

“Pl-uh-ease”, he wails and fucks your fist, moaning sweetly as his body shakes against his will. He does it repeatedly, having found the magic spot. 

Your pussy is literally throbbing. If you weren’t so good at pretending that this left you cold, you would already be panting like a dog. 

You roll into the parking garage of the hotel, searching for a parking space while beside you, Jungkook is coming closer and closer to an orgasm. He is squeaking so perfectly, fucking your fist like the neediest bunny ever. 

You find a parking spot, driving into it backwards and with one hand. The motor turns off with a low purr. Jungkook hasn’t noticed that you came to a stop, arching his back from your touch. 

One you retreat now that you are standing. 

“No” Jungkook hits his head against the window and writhes, “I was so close, no please.” 

“We’re here. Get it together.”

Jungkook barely peels his eyes open, looking at you all sniffly and pouty.

You, now gripping the steering wheel with both hands, cock your brow at him.

“What?”

“I, I was close.”

“And?”

He whimpers weakly, “it hurts.”

“How terrible. Don’t worry, we’ve got time. Tell me a little about your day.” 

“What?” he breathes.

“Your cock. It’s way too hard. We’ll stay here till it’s soft again.”

Jungkook mewls, squirming his hips.

“Your day. Tell me about it.”

“I, I thought of you all day.”

“You did?” 

“And all the days before that too. I missed you.”

You haven’t been home for five days for the authenticity of the roleplay. You stayed in this hotel, giving him no calls nor texts. You can’t deny that it didn’t make you want him in more ways than one as well. 

“You missed me?”

“So much. Oh god so much”, he pulls a face of desperation, rolling his hips up, “I’m so hard, oh god.” 

“I can see that. Are you not gonna ask me how my day was?”

“I’m sorry, oh god, oh. Did, did you have a good day?”

“Yes it was good. I had way too many meetings, but I kept getting distracted.”

“Why?”

“I thought of you in all of them although I shouldn’t have.”

“You did?” 

“Mhm, I did.” 

You unbuckle the belt and get on your knees, using your new position to lean over him with one hand on the window. It fogs up from your body heat. He gulps, feeling fragile and weak in your presence.

“Why is that, mhm?” You ask him, studying his flushed face. “I’m merely paying you. It should mean nothing to me and yet...” You trail off, studying his glossy lips. You speak no more thoughts, tracing his lips with your messied thumb. 

Jungkook licks it instinctively, moaning in submission as his big, brown eyes gaze up at you. Every other night, you would be kissing him right now. But not tonight. You sit back and glance at his cock. It has softened a little. Barely, but you are feeling impatient.

“Perfect. You’re good. Get dressed”, you say and leave the car, rounding it in confident steps. 

Jungkook tries to sit up straight, stuffing his cock into his pants. It is very difficult to do because he is still very hard. 

You open the door for him and offer him the hand which, moments ago, was around his cock. 

Jungkook gulps, accepting it so you can help him get out of the car. You are wearing dress shoes because driving in heels would be reckless. Jungkook sees no difference, worshiping you with his big eyes. 

You close the door and lock the car, letting the keys slip into the inner pocket of your suit jacket. 

You take his hand.

“Follow me.” 

He obeys, following you like a good little puppy even if walking with a semi is very difficult. 

Your hotel room is on the twentieth floor. You don’t talk in the elevator, having your back turned to him as you stand right in front of him. Your pinkie fingers are hooked however, letting Jungkook float on cloud nine. He missed you so much this week, despite not being allowed to, and it feels so good to know that you missed him too. That you craved to be close to him as well. Fuck, the lines between professional and unprofessional are so fucking blurry between you and him. 

You step closer to him each time other people enter the elevator, making sure that he is covered from their eyes. He may be walking around with a hard-on but this is still your hard-on to look at. No one else is allowed a glance at it. Not even on accident.

By the time you reach the twentieth floor, Jungkook is leaking into his pants. You take such good care of him. Your overprotective and almost possessive nature makes him want to become your personal little plaything. Seriously, tonight he would be happy living a life in a cage if that is what you think is best for him. You wouldn’t even have to pay him for it. Being close to you, being yours, would already be payment enough for him.

Like always, you booked the biggest suit. Only the best for your favourite prostitute. That’s what you told him when you first led him to your room. Jungkook gazed at it with sparkling eyes back then, not believing his luck. He wasn’t used to such riches and luxury because his other customers take him to motels or fuck him in their cars. You are different. Of course you are. 

“Welcome back, am I right?” you lead him inside with your hand on his lower back.

Jungkook thanks you with a bow of his head, which makes you roll your eyes at him fondly. He is too polite for his own good. 

You were lonely before you met Jungkook. Life as a CEO is busy and hectic and leaves little room for personal relationships. You had influence, you had power and you had money but no one to share it with. No one to spend it on. So you looked for it on dating apps first, but never found what you were looking for. Then one night you stumbled upon the website he was on. It was a website where people could offer their bodies sexually for payment. Back then, you booked him solely from his description. 

Lean, fit male sub with good stamina and expertise. Heterosexual but very open. Dark hair, brown eyes, five inches hard and can keep it up for long. Not opposed to anal. Kinky. Keeps it professional. Payment in cash only.

Maybe you could spend your money on him, you thought back then. You may not find love, but at least your needs will be met.

If only you knew that he would be waiting for you. He with his pretty face and his prettiest eyes, with his cute moans and perfect body, who always has something adorable to tell you and who is so, so polite. He made the loneliness go away and you wanted to spend your every fucking penny on him.

Like always, you lead him to the bed by his hand and sit him down on the foot end of it. Jungkook glances at the ceiling briefly, gulping heavily at the sight of the big ceiling mirror. The indications of what it means makes him shift needily. 

“Sit properly.”

Jungkook straightens his back and presents his hands palms up on his thighs, “sorry.”

“Mhm.” You give him a little smile. “Now that the real fun is going to start, let’s hear our safety rules.”

“The handjob wasn’t part of it yet?”

“Obviously not. Just wanted to examine my product a little.”

Jungkook moans, back slacking in defeat.

“Sit up.”

He shoots up instantly, blinking his eyes shyly.

“Good. Tell me the rules.”

“Green, yellow and red. Snap my fingers three times or hum Happy Birthday. Yes, I want this. Please Mistress, please I really want this.”

“Good. You’re being so obedient tonight. I like this”, you praise and turn your back to him to disappear in the room next door. 

Jungkook waits patiently even if he is a mess. His pants are sticking to his cock. He wants to be with you so much that it hurts not to be. 

You reappear with two flutes of sparkling water. 

“Are you thirsty?” 

“A little.”

You hand him one flute, keeping the second. 

“Thank-” he gets stopped in his endeavour of drinking with two fingers grasping his chin.

“Eyes on me.”

He obeys, struggling with it when seconds later you place the rim of your flute against his lips. You tilt his head back for him, tilting the glass with it. 

“Drink.” 

Jungkook obeys, closing his eyes sensually as you feed him the sparkling water. It tingles on his tongue, wetting his dry throat. He gulps and swallows hungrily, moaning softly. 

You feel so parched, watching him drink from your hands with your lips parted.

“That’s it. Drink”, you rasp, gulping with him. The last few drops roll down his chin messily. The glass is empty. You pull it away and wipe the water from his chin. 

Jungkook flutters his eyes open, keeping them half-lidded as he gazes up at you droopily. His lips are parted, he is breathing heavily.

“How was that?” you ask him with your voice raspy in arousal. 

“Good”, he croaks.

“Sorry that I got you a little messy”, you apologise, rubbing his chin.

“I didn’t mind”, he whispers, gazing at your lips. He wants to kiss you. He hangs on your every word. You fed him water, but in reality, you fed on his soul instead. With each gulp, each cold drop which ran down his throat because of you, he gave you parts of his soul. What a cold, addicting deal you sealed with this act.

“That’s good. Your face is so pretty, it would be a shame if I messied it even more”, you say and straighten up, leaving him to crave something he knows he can’t have. Your sweetened kiss.

You take the flute from his hand and drink from it as you walk to the table to set his empty glass aside. You finished half of it when you return to him, swirling it in your hand casually. You put ice cubes in your water, they clink against the glass as you inspect him.

“Undress.”

Jungkook obeys quickly, sitting down on the bed afterwards. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable being naked in front of you. On the contrary. Being so exposed while you are still in your expensive suit turns him on.

“Shit, you’re so fucking handsome”, you murmur under your breath, licking the rim of the glass mindlessly. 

Jungkook gulps, wishing that he could switch places with the glass. 

“What do you think of the weather lately? It’s been too hot, hasn’t it?” 

Jungkook is a little confused about your sudden need to talk about the weather, but he still nods his head obediently, “yeah, really hot.” 

“Mhm, I agree”, you murmur mindlessly and poke your fingers into your flute of water to fish for an ice cube. You keep it between three fingers and connect it with his neck. 

Jungkook gasps, shivering. His skin is covered in goosebumps instantly, his breath quickens.

“I’ll cool you off a little, yeah?” 

He keens a soft “mh-hm”, nodding his head. It is difficult to keep his eyes open when you make him feel so good. His skin is very sensitive to temperature and you know that. The ice cubes are like cold electricity to him, charging him with so much pleasure that he already wants to cry. He cries easily when he is with you because you always make him feel so good that it’s a little overwhelming.

You guide the ice cube along his collarbones to the other side of his pretty neck. Jungkook follows the touch with shivers running down his back. The ice is actively melting as it touches his skin, leaving behind dripping trails of water. You let them sit on his skin, enjoying the sight of them glistening in the lights. You switch hands because it got too cold for you, using your cooled fingers to grip his chin and tilt his head up.

Jungkook sighs audibly, parting his lips. The ice cube traces the shape of them. He dares not to stick his tongue out, regretting it blissfully when you stuff the small ice cube into his mouth without warning. He mewls and gurgles, curling his tongue to keep the ice inside.

His little struggle makes you chuckle and wipe the water from his lips. He gulps the melted water down, mewling just for you.

“You’re so adorable”, you say and push at his chest.

He falls back, gasping at the impact. His eyes lock with his own reflection instantly, flustering him. He looks to the side.

“Keep your eyes on yourself.”

He obeys even when it flusters him to look at himself like this. Not in a bad way, but in a very arousing way. His hair is messy, his lips so pink from the ice. His neck and collarbones match in colour. Jungkook feels himself reach up instinctively, looking at himself oh so submissively. Look at him. He is such a good sub. Oh god, this is such a turn on.

He is so preoccupied with looking at himself that he doesn’t even notice you crawling on his lap until he feels your weight on him. He tenses up, eyes flitting to you.

You are still dressed, but took off your suit jacket and rolled up your sleeves. The view steals his sanity. You sit right under his cock, making him crave you more than air.

“You’re being such a good boy for me”, you praise him and lift a new ice cube into his vision. “Look at yourself, okay?”

He nods his head, obeying instantly. You connect the cold ice with his neck first, guiding it down to his chest this time around. Each second makes him feel breathless. Watching it pleasure him makes it even harder to bear. It feels so good, reaching its peak when you circle his nipple with it.

“Ah”, Jungkook moans loudly, arching his back into your touch as his fingers grip the sheets and twist.

“Eyes on yourself.”

He obeys, trembling under you.

“Gosh, look at you. Are you already crying?”

“Feels so intense”, he whimpers, barely able to look into his eyes, “Please can I close my eyes? It’s too intense.”

“Of course it is”, you state matter-of-factly and circle his other nipple with it. “You can’t close your eyes.”

“Pleaseeee.”

Jungkook mewls through gritted teeth, arching his back again and twisting the sheets. His cock throbs, leaking on his tummy. His neck is tensed. He is so fucking pretty like this.

“You’re such a pretty man”, you purr, giving his overstimulated nipples a quick break by guiding the almost melted ice cube through his abs. The goosebumps on his skin refuse to leave, the skin around his dark nipples is pink and tender. “So fucking pretty, it’s insane.”

Jungkook closes his eyes. He can’t do it anymore. The praise is too much.

“Hey”, you warn, tugging on his cock once.

Jungkook instantly fucks into your fist, making the neediest noises. The pleasure is so warm and good for two seconds and then burning cold pierces his cockhead as you press the ice cube against it, letting it melt there. In his panic, he opens his eyes, looking at you pleadingly. His noises let you know that this right now hurts in a good way.

“Eyes open. I thought my instructions were easy to follow.”

Jungkook pants and whimpers, writhing under you.

“I know it hurts, but I need you to learn that disobeying me will end in punishments.”

“Please”, he sobs.

“No. No begging. Why did you do it mhm?”

“It, it felt too good. Almost close, I mean, almost ca- cum. Oh god please”, he writhes, throwing his head to the side, “it hurts so much.”

“Well, are you sorry?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry!”

“And are you gonna keep your eyes open?”

“Yes! I’m sorry, I will!”

“Good boy”, you praise, releasing him of his torture by finally opening your fist around his cock. You slip the tiny ice cube between your lips, letting it melt there with a delicious hum. “Mhm, tastes like you.”

Jungkook glances at his cock. The spot where the ice cube was pressed into it is purple from the cold. Of course you spot it as well, rubbing your thumb into it and sending such pleasure through his body that Jungkook almost throws you off from how aggressively his thrusts his hips.

You can handle him, taming his shaky thighs with little struggle until they are pinned under you again. You close the rest of your fingers around his cock to continue where you left off in the car.

Jungkook yelps up in ecstasy, throwing his head back as far as the mattress allows him to. Eye contact with himself is so difficult, but you told him to obey. He can’t disappoint you again. What if you tell him to never come back? What if you stop calling him? He can’t risk any more slip-ups, not when his entire existence is at stake.

Your hand is quick and skilled around his shackled length, forcing his legs to shake under your weight. It feels so good and Jungkook cries as he looks at himself. Not only has it been too long since he last felt your touch and this makes him cry, it is also to view of him which brings tears to his eyes. He is yours right now. Your pretty sub spread out on the sheets while you have your fun with him. He is so happy to be yours. Even if it is only for a few hours.

“I’m yours”, he croaks, feeling your hand falter around his cock.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m yours”, he is looking at himself as he speaks, “I’m yours. I’m only yours.”

“My little star… I’m paying you to be here. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No”, he cries tears, “no, I’m yours. Please, I’m yours.”

“No, Jungkook”, you choke out, dropping his cock for the sake of taking his face between your hands. Your face replaces his view, sending tears of worship down his face. He loves you so much and you have no idea that he does. Your eyes are foggy, your pupils dilated. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I do. I’m yours, please Mistress.”

For just a second, your eyes mirrored the deep feelings Jungkook experiences when he is with you. For just a second he had the reassurance that his words are reciprocated. And then you break away from him, leaving his lap.

Jungkook feels too defeated to sit up. He lies in the sheets, crying little tears in the aching realisation that he is nothing but your product right now. You said it yourself. You are paying for him like you would pay for more milk in the store. The view of him would have probably hurt him irreparably when he didn’t suddenly feel your fingers twist the straps on his legs. He lifts his head, meeting your hungry stare.

“Legs up.”

He obeys, bending his knees and resting them on each side of his torso.

“Arms down.”

He obeys, presenting them to you as  you clearly want to make use of the bondage gear. You open the clasps on his calve belts, hooking it in the ring on his wrist ties. Like this, Jungkook is forced to stay in the folded, open position. He feels so exposed and vulnerable like this, wishing for whatever you wanted to do to him.

“Comfortable? Do you like this?” you make sure.

“Yes, so much.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been hard with the cockring on?” you ask him.

“I, I don’t know”, he stutters, barely able to bring his voice over breathy gasps.

“I think it’s time we take it off, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t answer you, but it is okay for you.

“Promise me to be a good boy and hold back, okay?”

He nods his head vigorously, throbbing in your hand.

“That’s what I’m paying you for. Such obedience”, you praise and unbuckle the leather strap around his cock.

You can literally feel his cock throb in relief and how it grows so much harder in your hand. Pearly drops of pleasure leak from him. They are dangerously close to being white. The noises Jungkook makes and the utter bliss on his face lets you know that you aren’t that far off with your assumptions. 

“Look at you. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mhhmhm”, he mewls, nodding his head vigorously.

“Good”, you say and drop his cock, denying him of heaven.

Jungkook keens, writhing as best as his constricted position allows him to.

“Please, oh god please”, he begs, but to no avail.

You step back, falling back into your stern role. You begin undressing. Jungkook tries to watch you as best as the position allows him.

Your vest falls to the ground, your tie is opened, your shirt is unbuttoned and tugged out of your opened slacks within seconds. You pull said slacks down soon after, abandoning them on the floor alongside your panties. You keep the shirt on, climbing onto bed with the tie between your fingers.

“Eyes on yourself.”

Jungkook obeys, barely catching his breath. He wiggles his hands, coming to the blissed realisation that he can’t move them very much.

“You think you know what you’re talking about?” you say to him and bend over him to guide the tie behind his neck.

Jungkook gulps, gazing up at you with a dizzy head. With skilled fingers, you knot the tie and wrap the excess fabric around your hand two times so it sits snug in your tight fist. A makeshift leash to keep him close.

“You think you want to be owned by me? What do you even know about me? I pay for your company, do you truly think you would want to be with me willingly?”

“Yes”, Jungkook breathes, tilting his head closer in devotion.

You tug, helping him with the movement with the tie around his neck. Your eyes are burning in a dark fire. If you could, you would probably devour him with just a look.

“Don’t say promises you can’t keep.”

“Please, I could serve you so well.”

“No you couldn’t. I’m fucking twisted.”

“I’m flexible.”

An honest laugh rips through you. A glimpse of his love shines through the pretend persona you are performing tonight. Jungkook giggles, scrunching his nose.

“Fuck, you stupid noodle you”, you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

Jungkook’s heart flutters unbearably. He loves you so much.

You clear your throat and shake your shoulders to get back into character. 

“Don’t think that I agree with you just because you made me laugh. I’m an asshole. I earn too much money and decide to spend it on obedient boys like you.”

“I don’t care. Please.”

You grind your teeth and darken your eyes. You know that you can’t change his mind. At least not with words. You straighten up and reach between your bodies to take his cock between your fingers. Jungkook’s breath speeds up.

“Eyes on yourself.”

He obeys.

“That’s it. Watch how your face changes when I sink it in”, you order him, slipping down on his cock. You are on your knees as if you were fucking his ass, but instead you are milking his cock in your tight cunt. The movement is the same, forcing Jungkook’s toes to curl in ecstasy.

His eyes go out of focus but stay locked with his own reflection. Your name slips from his lips, carrying proof of how good it feels for him.

“That’s it. Keep looking at yourself. Watch how you look when I fuck you”, you growl, twisting the tie around his neck as you rail him senseless. The position feels incredibly stimulating to you. His cock naturally grinds against your clit and rubs against your g-spot. The power you have in this position and the view of his big body folded into such a tiny shaking mess does the rest. “Watch how it would look to be owned by me. Is that what you want?”

“Yes”, he moans, “yes, yes, yes, yes please, yes.”

“No you don’t. You don’t want to be mine. You don’t want this”, you growl, fucking him harder to the point the bed shakes.

Jungkook rips his mouth open, rolling his ankles and tugging at his restraints. His lids are so heavy that he barley sees out of them. His face is flushed and his nipples erect. The back of your head is in his view as well, just as the shirt punching up on your lower back is. As is the grey tie twisted in your fist and the marks it leaves on his neck. He doesn’t get it. How could he not want to be yours when he has never looked better before? So destroyed, so marked and ruined. So fucked.

Jungkook arches his back as best as possible, getting pinned down instantly with a strong hand on his hip. He throbs inside you, leaking way too much pleasure on your velvety walls. The strength on your grip makes your shirt stick to your muscles visibly. Jungkook goes insane at the view, finding it difficult to look at the mirror. He wants to roll his eyes back and go brain dead. Please.

“I would break you. I would fucking use you up until there is nothing left of you. Don’t you get it? I’m greedy. In every aspect of life. You think being kind made me CEO? No, I take what I want and ruin it in the process.”

Whatever you are saying is only making Jungkook want to be yours more and more. He shows you his devotion with high-pitched moans and tears spilled only for you.

You tug at the tie harshly, forcing his head to lift. Your breath brushes against his lips. Jungkook closes his eyes, chasing your kiss.

“You would hate him in the end”, you whisper.

“So why are you fucking me raw?” he croaks out.

“Fuck”, your hips stutter before picking up a punishing speed, making it difficult for both of you not to orgasm, “we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Please”, he squeaks, “kiss me.”

“We shouldn’t be…”

“Kiss me.”

“We shouldn’t …”

“Kiss me, please.”

“We…”

Your lips finally touch. You each moan into the other’s mouth instantly, breaking apart together. You drop the tie so you could cradle his face while Jungkook shakes his restraints and fills you with gushes of sticky cum. Your throbbing, tight pussy milks even more out of him, sending him to another planet because there is nothing better to him than sharing a high with you.

Once you come down together, your lower faces are messy from the sloppy tongue kissing you did and your heads are both pounding. The lipstick you once neatly wore is smeared all over your faces.

“Holy fuck”, you croak, dropping your sweaty forehead against his equally as sweaty forehead. You are panting for air, Jungkook is too.

Your pussy keeps his cock warm for now, but it will only be a matter of moments that it slips out on its own.

“Holy fuck, Kookie”, you breathe.

Jungkook whimpers, spilling happy tears with closed eyes and his body floating on the warm afterglow. You never called him like this before. It was filled with so much love. You feel the same for him. Jungkook cries in realisation.

“Why me? I pay you to get fucked by me. It’s nothing but money. How could you possibly love me?”

“Because you’re everything I ever wanted.”

“Fuck”, you twist his hair gently, pressing your forehead closer until your noses are squished slightly, “don’t say that, I might never let you go again.”

“Good. Don’t let me go.”

You chuckle softly, finding enough strength in your ruined body to tilt your head so you could kiss his forehead.

“How about I’ll take you to Hawaii first? All expenses paid.”

“You would do that with me?”

“Of course, my baby star candy.”

Jungkook peels his eyes open, looking up at you.

“Yes, please take me far away from here.”

You give him a smile, Jungkook retorts it.

“End scene”, you say, face morphing into your real expressions.

Jungkook breaks into giggles instantly, squirming under you happily.

“Wow mommy, you made us a-actually be together in the end. I’m so happy, this was so romantic”, he says, spilling tears.

“You’re such a cutie, gosh”, you wipe his tears. “Did you like it? I know you love happy endings.”

“I loved it so much. Oh my god, I’m so happy. This was so much better than I could have ever imagined it to be.”

“Hm”, you chuckle, pecking his lips, “you’re such a cutie, I’m gonna eat you. I would say that this roleplay was a total success. I felt so immersed in the scene with you.”

“Me too. I actually forgot that it was just play. You were so good in your role.”

“What should I say? You were the best.”

“All I did was whine and cry.”

“Exactly, you were the best.”

He giggles shyly, wiggling his arms. You snicker, wiping the messy hair from his face. Your eyes are spilling over in adoration for him. 

“Mommy, can I be untied? I really want to hug you.”

“Of course, Bunny baby.” You say, slipping off of him. You and he are talking as you free him of his gear. “I’m leaking everywhere.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I came a lot. I didn’t touch myself this week, just like you told me to.”

“I knew that you wouldn’t, you’re my good Bunny after all. I really fucking missed you this week. I gotta be honest, the handjob in the car was not part of my initial plan.”

“It was so hot, oh my god. I had to work so hard not cum.”

“I could tell, you cutie.” You rub the tender skin where the leather belts lied. “Are you okay? Your skin is a little red where the straps were.”

“I’m okay. I’m not hurting anywhere. Oh my god Mommy, when you put the ice cube on my dick, I actually cried. That hurt so much.”

“Did you like it?”

“So, so much.” He shivers in memory. “I’m shivering just thinking about it.”

You smile, getting off bed to get something to wipe you and him down. He lets you work while he lies in the sheets totally chatty and happy. You listen to him with a content smile on your lips. He always gets chatty after you fucked him right.

“And when you fed me the water, I felt drunk. Please do that again one day, it was such a turn on. The mirror on the ceiling is so hot. Oh god, I can’t believe you picked this room and, and made me look at myself all the time. It was so difficult because it was so hot. Wow, thank you so much for everything.” He sighs, smiling goofily. “I love you so much, Mommy.”

“I love you too, Bunny”, you say and lie down on your side next to him, rubbing his tummy.

He rolls his head to you, grins and flips to his side so he could bury you under him in a strong bear hug. He makes the cutest sound effects, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You laugh loudly, hugging him back as best as possible.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You’re such a polite cutie, my Bunny.”

“I’m so happy.”

“I’m happy too.”

“Mhmm”, he kisses your neck and inhales deeply until he can’t anymore. Afterwards he exhales against you, tickling you with it. He lifts his head, giving view to his pretty, glowing face. “Should we get room service and watch a movie?”

“I would love that. Also, this hotel offers a really cool couples spa treatment.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I read about it and knew I had to tell you once you’re with me again.”

“We have this room till tomorrow right?”

“Yup. Wanna book the treatment?”

“Yes please”, he says and squeaks as he hugs you tighter in another surge of love. “I love staycations with you so much, Mommy love.”

“I love them too, Bunny love.”

[httpswritings]

if you were my little girl: the series

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

A Barcelona Hope Blooms

Alexia never felt the desire to have kids.

She enjoyed being around them, but maternity wasn't for her.

You, however, were a whirlwind of seven years old, a hurricane of energy fueled by football. Barcelona Femení's rise, intertwined with the Spanish National Team's success, had ignited a passion that burned brighter than any birthday candle. And at the heart of this inferno stood Alexia Putellas, your idol.

Her laser focus on the pitch, the way she orchestrated every move with an almost telepathic precision, it all mesmerized you. You saw in her an ideal – relentless pursuit of excellence, unwavering dedication to the beautiful game.

The Eye of Barça: A Scout's Discovery in Barcelona

The rhythmic thud of the worn-out ball against your worn-out trainers was the soundtrack of your afternoons. Barcelona's bustling streets were your training ground, the chipped brick wall your loyal opponent. You weren't just playing keepy-uppy - you were weaving magic, dribbling past imaginary defenders, scoring wonder goals against a rusty shopping cart guarding a den of discarded tires. You were a queen on this dusty pitch, ruling with every flick of your foot.

Suddenly, a sharp tug sent you stumbling. You whirled around to see your mom, her face etched with worry as she glared at the man in the crisp suit towering over you.

“Who is this?“ she demanded, her voice a tight knot of concern.

The man smiled reassuringly, flashing a badge that glinted in the afternoon sun. “Don't worry,“ he said in smooth Spanish, “my name is Mikel, and I'm a scout for FC Barcelona.” He gestured toward you. “I couldn't help but notice your impressive skills.“

Your stomach lurched. Was he serious? Could this be real? Your mom's frown deepened, a million questions swirling in her eyes. Mikel sensed her apprehension and continued, “We have a fantastic girls' academy at La Masia, where young talents like your daughter can learn and grow. We'd love for her to try out.“

Barcelona's prestigious academy, La Masia, was a name whispered with reverence. It was a factory that churned out legendary players, a dream factory for any aspiring footballer. Your heart hammered in your chest, a frantic drumbeat against your ribs.

Your mom, however, looked unconvinced. “But she's just a kid,“ she protested, her voice softening. “Isn't she a bit young?“

Mikel chuckled, a warm sound that calmed her ruffled feathers. “We start training young, señora," he explained. "But don't worry, we have a great program for girls her age. It's a chance to see if she truly has the passion and develop her talent.“

You looked from your mom, her gaze filled with a mixture of fear and hope, to Mikel, his smile radiating both professionalism and genuine enthusiasm. This wasn't just a game anymore. This was a potential turning point, a fork in the dusty road that stretched before you.

Taking a deep breath, you met your mom's gaze, a silent plea unspoken but clear. A flicker of understanding passed between you, a silent pact forged in the gritty heart of Barcelona. With a hesitant nod, your mom turned to Mikel.

“Alright.”

Facing Alexia

The day of the camp arrived, a nervous flutter in your stomach battling with pure excitement. Stepping onto the field, you scanned the faces, searching for the one that graced your bedroom walls. And then, there she was, Alexia Putellas, no longer a poster image but a living, breathing embodiment of your footballing dreams.

The drills began, each touch, each pass judged by the watchful gaze of your hero. You focused on the ball, desperately trying to block out the pressure, the weight of Alexia's scrutiny. Yet, every now and then, you'd steal a glance.

A whistle blew, stopping the drill. Alexia walked towards you, her expression still unreadable. You braced yourself for criticism, for disappointment. Instead, she stopped in front of you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“I'm amazed,“ she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “You have some raw talent there.“

You stared at her, speechless, the weight of her words settling on you. It wasn't praise from just any player – it was from Alexia Putellas. A wave of pride washed over you, a feeling far more intoxicating than any goal you'd ever scored. This wasn't just about drills or impressing coaches. This was about proving yourself, about earning a nod of approval from your hero.

Bruised Bloom

At La Masia, you thrived. Here, amidst your teammates, you weren't just a kid caught in a crossfire. You were a footballer, a budding talent with a future that stretched beyond the grimy walls of your apartment.

Training was your sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos that permeated your home life. The hushed whispers, the acrid smells, the constant tension – it all dissolved the moment you stepped onto the field. Here, the only pressure was the weight of the ball on your foot, the thrill of the game.

Back home, your world was a minefield. Your mother, despite the worried facade she put on at the park when Mikel first scouted you, was a ghost, lost in a world of her own until she felt it was time to punish you. Your father, a storm that brewed unpredictably, filled the silence with violence and toxic fumes.

The thought of returning after practice sent a knot of dread twisting in your gut. Yet, you faced it every day, a warrior donning a hopeful smile like armor. You knew you couldn't speak, couldn't reveal the truth behind your closed-door reality. So, you played, harder than anyone else, pouring every ounce of your hurt, your anger, your fear, into your game, hoping time would pass fast and you would reach adulthood and the possibility of escaping home.

The Girl Who Played with Ghosts

Days morphed into weeks, and the vibrant memory of Alexia's praise began to fade, replaced by a dull ache of missing her. It wasn't just the validation of your skills; it was the warmth in her eyes, a flicker of something that mirrored your own yearning for connection.

You were a child overflowing with love, a dam overflowing with affection that had nowhere to spill. Your home life offered no solace, your parents existing in their own desolate realities. So, you latched onto any adult who offered a sliver of kindness, a fleeting pat on the head, or a word of encouragement.

Alexia, with her quiet intensity and unexpected gentleness, had become a beacon in your world.

You would often daydream about her being your big sister, your mother, anything that made you feel secure. You craved her approval, not just for your football, but for your very existence. The thought of her watching you play again, that focused gaze that made you both nervous and exhilarated, filled you with a strange longing.

Alexia's Eye

One afternoon, during a particularly grueling training session, your heart sank as you saw Alexia emerge from the building. Your body ached, your muscles screaming in protest, but a surge of energy coursed through you nonetheless. Every drill, every tackle, became a silent plea, a desperate attempt to catch her eye, to earn another nod of approval, another fleeting moment of connection in this vast, intimidating world.

As practice ended, your teammates dispersed, their chatter fading into the Barcelona dusk. You lingered, hoping, praying Alexia wouldn't vanish like smoke. And then, as you were about to turn away, defeated, you saw her. She stood by the entrance, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she watched you catch your breath.

“I was supposed to watch you training but my day got a little derailed. Still, I hear whispers of a wonder-kid on the pitch today. Any truth to that rumor?"

Your heart soared. It wasn't the words themselves, but the way she said them, the unspoken recognition that ignited a spark of warmth within you. You weren't just another trainee anymore. You were someone she saw, someone with potential, someone who, maybe, just maybe, deserved a little bit of her time, a little bit of her attention.

"I... I just try my best," you stammered, suddenly self-conscious under her gaze.

"Well, that best seems pretty good," she countered, her smile widening. "Mind if I see a sample?"

Bittersweet Symphony

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Alexia, wanting to see you play?

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders, a newfound determination coursing through you. "I'd be honored," you declared, voice surprisingly steady.

As you ran through drills, fueled by a mix of excitement and nervousness, you felt a different kind of pressure. No longer was it just about proving yourself; it was about capturing that spark, that flicker of something special, in Alexia's eyes. You weren't just playing football anymore. You were playing for recognition, for connection, for a chance to forge a bond with the woman who had become your hero.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the La Masia training grounds in a warm glow. Alexia watched you with a smile, a hint of amusement and something deeper, a flicker of recognition, in her eyes.

"You're good, kid," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Reminds me of myself at your age. Full of fire."

Your chest puffed out with pride. Alexia Putellas, your idol, was complimenting you! A warmth bloomed in your stomach, a feeling so foreign and comforting it made your eyes sting. It was like a hug, a feeling of love and acceptance you didn't think you'd ever experience.

Lost in this bubble of newfound joy, you didn't notice the other players filtering out, their chatter fading into the twilight. You were completely focused on Alexia, hanging on to every word, every encouraging nod.

Finally, a hand rested on your shoulder. You looked up, expecting Alexia's brilliant gaze, but instead, saw the concerned face of a coach. "It's getting late, kiddo," he said kindly. "Where are your parents? Are you leaving with them?"

You blinked, the realization hitting you like a cold wave. Your parents. You hadn't thought about them all afternoon, consumed by the warmth of Alexia's approval. Now, a knot formed in your gut. If they were late, that meant... you knew. The picture wasn't pretty, the familiar scene of their slumped figures reeking of alcohol playing in your mind.

Suddenly, the thought of a chaotic homecoming was a thousand times less appealing than the gentle reprimand of a coach and the lingering hope of Alexia's smile. You mumbled, "They'll... I guess they'll be here soon."

Alexia, who had been watching the exchange, now looked closely at you. The amusement in her eyes was replaced with a spark of concern, a question unspoken. You knew you couldn't stay here forever, but the thought of facing your reality was terrifying.

Behind The Charade

Then, there they were, your parents, their faces flushed, their laughter grating against the now-silent training grounds.

Your coach, Jordi, observed them from afar.

He knew something was off, but couldn't figure out what.

Jordi, your coach, watched them approach, a knot tightening in his stomach. Something was off, a forced joviality that didn't reach their eyes. They were experts at this charade, fooling people into believing their dysfunctional family was a picture of normalcy.

You, however, knew their routine all too well. A quick excuse, a feigned apology, and then the inevitable escape. You squeezed your eyes shut, a silent plea escaping your lips. When you opened them again, a desperate hope filled them.

"Alexia," you blurted, your voice barely audible, "would you… would you come watch me train next week?"

Alexia, who'd been observing the exchange with a growing sense of unease, met your hopeful gaze. Your fear, barely veiled, tugged at her heartstrings.

"Of course," she replied, her voice surprisingly firm. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Your parents seemed oblivious, their attention focused on their next conquest, whatever that might be. You knew the drive home would be a terrifying journey, a cacophony of drunken arguments and reckless driving.

Eyes Shut, Hopes Open

As your father lurched the car forward, you squeezed your eyes shut, a single image flashing before them.

The image of Alexia in your imagination, her strong hand clasped in yours, a silent promise of protection in a world that seemed far from safe.

The roar of the engine filled the car, but it was Alexia's voice, a whisper in your mind, that brought a sliver of solace: "We'll get through this, together." The destination might be uncertain, but for the first time, you weren't alone.

[pupkashi]

f1 racer!satoru 💭🏎️

a/n: hi friends ! i have had this au rattling in my head like a damn maraca for SO LONG im so glad i finally got around to putting it out for yall :3 this might be for a very niche group of people but i hope the five of you who enjoy f1 will appreciate this 🙏 let me know what yall think if you’d like him to make a reappearance in drabbles or one shots !! <3

masterlist

f1 racer!satoru who is mercedes golden boy, replacing lewis hamilton after his move to ferrari, going toe to toe with the likes of red bull and Ferrari racers

f1 racer!satoru who is loved across the grid and in the general public, think Italian men with charles leclerc, he’s the people’s princess, truly

f1 racer!satoru who dominates his rookie year, leaving everyone stunned at how truly talented and amazing he is

f1 racer!satoru who has the most followers on social media from everyone on the grid, everyone fawning over him constantly

f1 racer!satoru who loves the attention, but all of it seems so meaningless the second he meets you, falling hard and fast from the couple conversations you had, giving you free tickets for the race in an attempt to get more time with you

f1 racer!satoru who shows up and shows out the Grand Prix that weekend, eyes searching the crowd as tries his best to focus on his post race interviews

f1 racer!satoru finds you in the crowd as he steps onto the podium, smile widening and dimples popping out, he’s laughing as his podium mates douse him in champagne, all of them taking a swig from the comically large champagne bottle

f1 racer!satoru who says his to you with champagne dripping down his face and off his snowy hair, asking what the odds were of you letting him take you out on a date where he’s not working

f1 racer!satoru who is impossible to not fall for, with his witty replies and pretty blue eyes, he has you weak in the knees and on FaceTime every night

f1 racer!satoru who takes you carting, letting you win and treating you to dinner afterwards, buzzing with nervousness as he asks you to be his

f1 racer!satoru who is elated to have you as his partner, having you fly out with him whenever you could to his races, explaining everything about formula 1 to you beforehand, chest warming when he realizes how focused you look on his every word

f1 racer!satoru who develops a pre-race ritual with you, having you hype him up and giving him a good luck kiss before the two of you walk out of his driver room and into the garage, he’s zipping up his driver suit and asking you to help adjust his balaclava, smiling when you kiss his nose and wish him luck

f1 racer!satoru who seems to become even better after he started dating you, managing to podium every race and putting up a fight against a dominating red bull team; in every interview he says it’s not only the car but his amazing lover who helps him push every lap

f1 racer!satoru who has a picture of you in his helmet as his lockscreen, and you have one of him in his fireproofs as yours

f1 racer!satoru who gets dubbed ‘the grids angel boy’ after you commented on his post fresh off his Japan Grand Prix win ‘congratulations my angel boy’

the entire grid loves you, announcers and commentators always excited when you show up to a race, cameras showing you in the Mercedes garage ‘and we have y/n in the garage today!’ you smile brightly at the camera, ‘i guess we know who’s gonna get pole position for qualifying tonight’

f1 racer!satoru who drives you around in his fancy Mercedes, sports and classic cars, exploring every city with you, treating you to expensive food and presents, walking hand in hand with you down the streets of Monaco, taking pictures of you at the beach in Miami and sending flowers when you can’t make it to his races

f1 racer!satoru who is absolutely smitten over you, adding your initial to his helmet hidden among the design, showing it to you with sparkling blue eyes as your heart flutters

f1 racer!satoru who runs to you after every race, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you on the lips before celebrating with his team

[miss-dollette]

Person Of Interest - Chapter 1. Muse.

Warning: Stalking. Really fucked up opinions on the less fortunate. Remember, this is the salesman we’re talking about.

(A/N): I wrote this over the course of a few days. I haven’t written anything this long in some time, so let me know if I got anything wrong. Also, I’m not Korean and have never visited Korea, so I’m not familiar with Korean culture. Please be easy on me - I don’t even listen to K-Pop and this is my like, second Korean show I’ve watched 😭. Okay, it’s two in the morning and my eyes hurt. Enjoy :)

The little waif appeared at the train station again, as she did every day of the week except Sunday.

He knew that because he had developed a routine of his own-one where he ensured he’d catch a glimpse of her. She was a slight thing, all knobby knees and elbows, with a rounder face that still clung stubbornly to remnants of baby fat. It gave her an air of innocence that would likely never fade into maturity.

Twenty-two years old. A dropout from a prestigious university - why, he didn’t know. She lived with a roommate in a tacky apartment building and was unemployed. Instead, she earned her money playing her violin in the busier sections of the city.

A talented little thing. No matter the weather, her thin but strong fingers coaxed melodies from her instrument, drawing the attention of passersby. The locals knew her well, and they must have appreciated the way her music lured customers to their shops and stands.

The first time he saw her, she was on a concrete platform, playing one of his favorite songs. His hand had stung, his shoulder ached - a long day of recruiting Nothings - but the sound had stopped him in his tracks.

Passersby dropped won into the worn Breton cap she’d laid out in front of her, and each time, she flashed a brief, grateful smile before resuming her tune.

His breath hitched in his chest, his fingers slackening around the handle of his suitcase full of won and two dirty ddakji papers. Even dressed in an oversized coat with patched-up hemlines, she caught his attention in a way that left him stunned.

An elderly man shuffled past her, dropping a few won into her cap before bowing deeply. She paused just long enough to bow back, even lower than he had, before continuing to play.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, lingering spectators began to drift away, heading toward the station to catch their trains. Salarymen and women filed out of their offices, and nearby shops started to close for the night.

When the last stragglers were gone, she stepped down from the platform and retrieved her cap. One by one, she smoothed out the crumpled bills with delicate precision, as though each note were a treasure.

An elderly woman from a nearby food stall approached her, carrying a steaming skewer of dakkochi. Though the girl began counting her bills, ready to pay, the woman shook her head, pressing the food into her hands.

She hesitated, staring at the meat with wide, hungry eyes, before accepting it and bowing low in gratitude.

He watched as she took the first bite, her eyes fluttering shut as though she were savoring the warmth, the taste, the comfort of it. She chewed slowly, and though he couldn’t hear it, he could almost imagine the hum of satisfaction she must have let slip.

It was ridiculous. Fascination with someone so ordinary.

And yet, he couldn’t look away.

How could it be that this crumpled-up, discarded girl had managed to fascinate him so completely?

If he had seen her on any other day, he would have caught her alone, offered her a game of Ddakji, and slapped her cheeks until their softness gave way to mottled bruises. Those babyish cheeks of hers, stained with tears—he could picture it so vividly. Female recruits usually cried by the third slap, but they never stopped playing. The glimmer of hope, of winning back their dignity or even just a few won, kept them in the game.

They were all the same. Male or female. Persistent, pathetic pieces of garbage. That’s what they all had in common.

When she finished her food, she stuffed the crumpled won into a sash tied around her waist, her movements quick yet deliberate. Then she turned her attention to her violin, lifting it with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. She placed the chipped instrument into its worn case so gently that anyone watching might have thought she was laying an infant into its crib.

It was laughable, really.

And yet, he kept watching.

When she stood, she practically skipped toward the train station. Light, careless steps, as though the weight of the world hadn’t settled on her shoulders like it had on everyone else’s. He watched her descend the stairs, each movement unguarded, as though she had nothing to fear.

His fingers tightened around the handle of his suitcase, and his eyes flicked to his watch. The seconds ticked away steadily, a reminder that if he wanted to catch the last train home, he’d need to hurry.

But as he stood there, staring at the spot where she’d disappeared, he felt himself torn.

Head home... or follow her?

The decision hovered in the air, tantalizing and heavy, as the seconds marched on.

He realized that if he didn’t follow her, she’d haunt his thoughts all night. The sound of her tunes, the gleam in her eyes—it would all linger, nagging at him. And what if he never saw the little waif again?

The thought was unbearable.

He took a step toward the station, then another, and another, until he found himself at the platform, watching as she disappeared through the train’s doors.

“Pardon me,” he murmured, brushing past another passenger in his haste.

The man turned sharply, venom already rising to his face - until his gaze fell on him. The glare faltered, melting into something more subdued. Respectful.

It was remarkable, really, how quickly people changed their tune when they caught sight of his tailored coat and polished shoes. They didn’t need to know him, his past, or his purpose. The price tag of his appearance was enough to earn their deference.

How pitiful, he thought, as he adjusted his grip on his suitcase. Once, he’d been nothing - just like them. But now?

Now, he was above them all.

She sat in the distance, wedged between a mother with a toddler clinging to her thighs and a weary salaryman fighting to keep his eyes open. Her violin case rested on her lap, cradled against her chest as though it were something precious, something alive.

He watched her from the corner of his eye, careful not to let his gaze linger too long. If she caught him staring, she’d realize far too soon that she had an observer - and that wouldn’t do. Not that he had any plans of revealing himself.

Fortunately, he was practiced in the art of pursuit. Years of experience had honed his craft, though his targets were typically for a very different purpose.

The train jolted forward, and he swayed slightly, using the motion to adjust his stance, keeping her just within his peripheral vision. She was so unassuming, so small in this world of hurried professionals and exhausted parents. Yet, there was something magnetic about her.

Her oversized coat hung awkwardly off her frame, the patched hemlines almost brushing her knees. It was too large, almost comical, but she wore it without a hint of self-consciousness. Perhaps she didn’t care how it looked, or perhaps she was simply used to making do. The thought both irritated and fascinated him.

He shifted his grip on his suitcase, the leather pressing against his calluses. Would she even be worth it? She wasn’t like the others he had approached. There was a quiet resolve in her, something different. She didn’t wear her desperation as plainly as the others, yet he knew it was there - lurking beneath the surface.

Wasn’t it always?

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. Everyone had their breaking point. The game just revealed it sooner.

She glanced up briefly, her eyes scanning the train, and his heart seized for a moment. Had she noticed him? No - her gaze swept right past him, uninterested and unseeing. He let out a slow, controlled breath, reminding himself that he was a master at this. Years of practice had taught him how to melt into the background, to become just another face in the crowd.

But watching her, he felt something unusual - a spark of impatience. Normally, he could bide his time, savoring the slow unraveling of his prey’s composure. But with her, the anticipation was different. Her every movement - so small, so deliberate - pulled at something in him, though he couldn’t quite name what.

The train rattled through another stop, and a few passengers shuffled off. She remained in her seat, her hands absently brushing over the scratched surface of her violin case. Did she know how fragile she looked in that moment? The way her fingers lingered on the case, as though drawing strength from it, made his chest tighten in a way that annoyed him.

Perhaps that was it - the illusion of fragility. People like her always looked so easy to break, so willing to bend under pressure. But they never went quietly. No, they always had a streak of stubbornness, a refusal to yield that made the process all the more satisfying.

He swallowed, his mind flickering between possibilities. If he approached her now, how would she react? Would she freeze, caught off guard by someone acknowledging her for any other reason besides her violin? Or would she look at him with suspicion, sensing something amiss?

The train slowed, and the voice over the intercom announced the next station. His pulse quickened. She adjusted her grip on her case, her body shifting as she got ready to stand.

He waited until the distance between them widened before stepping off the train. The crowd of passengers spilling onto the platform was his cover, their hurried steps and muted chatter blending him seamlessly into the flow of bodies. Not that she would suspect anyone was following her. Who would?

Once outside the station, she weaved her way past the gleaming high-rises and into narrower, dimly lit streets. The transition was stark - the polished facade of the city gave way to crumbling walls, cracked sidewalks, and flickering streetlights. It made sense for her to live in this part of town. He never imagined she could afford anything more secure.

She paused in front of a small brick building, its exterior worn and unremarkable, much like her. He hung back, watching as she disappeared through the front doors. His pulse steadied, and he exhaled slowly. Following her inside would be foolish - far too risky. A smaller building like this meant she likely knew her neighbors, and a stranger’s presence wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Still, his lips curved into a faint smile. The journey might have ended here, but now he knew where she lived. A detail worth savoring.

Just as he turned to retrace his steps to the station, a light flickered on in one of the windows. His head snapped up, and his gaze locked onto it. A shadow moved against the thin curtain, a familiar silhouette. Her slight frame was unmistakable, and so was that oversized Breton cap perched awkwardly on her head.

Yes, it was her.

For a moment, he stood frozen, watching her shadow shift. She set something down - likely the violin case she had cradled so protectively on the train. He could almost picture her now, brushing the dust off her coat, pulling her hair free from under the cap, perhaps exhaling with relief to finally be home.

His grip on his suitcase tightened.

“I should leave now,” he thought. Lingering too long would be reckless, but something about that glowing window and her faint outline held him captive. It was a glimpse into her world - simple, predictable, fragile. A world so easy to disrupt.

Finally, he turned away, but his steps were slow, reluctant. He had what he came for, but the thought of her shadow, the dim light framing her every movement, stayed with him.

Time to say Goodbye.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Sleeping All Alone

Summary: Reader who always teases bodyguard, named Daemon, to keep you safe both in public and in private situations. However, as the two spend more time together, an undeniable attraction and chemistry starts to develop between you.

Warnings: Power imbalance, Teasing, PWP, Begging, Choking, Use of Darlin, brat, tease, minx, Dom Daemon, and Sub reader, no real gender used for the reader.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 6.0k

Daemon Targaryen sat in his usual spot at the back of your concert venue. He watched as the fans went wild for the pop star on stage. He was there for one reason and one reason only, and that was to protect you. As you sang and danced on stage, he scanned the crowd, searching for any potential threats. He had been hired by your management team to be your personal bodyguard, and he took his job very seriously. Despite his best efforts, Daemon couldn't ignore the fact that the fans were going crazy over every move you made. It was obvious they were smitten with you, and he couldn't blame them. You were good-looking and talented, and he found himself distracted by you on stage more times than he'd care to admit.

As you strutted across the stage, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You knew who it belonged to, your bodyguard Daemon. While most people found his intense stare unnerving, you couldn't help but feel a little thrill every time his eyes bore into yours. You tried to focus on the performance, but his presence was distracting. He was like a magnet, tugging at your attention even when you were supposed to be focused on the music. You finished the final song of your set, panting and wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead. You gave a final wave to the adoring crowd before returning backstage, only to find Daemon waiting for you with his arms crossed. “Another successful show,” he said as you approached. Daemon's voice was cool and measured, betraying no hint of the attraction he felt towards you. He had been your bodyguard for several months now, but he had managed to keep his feelings hidden from you. He knew that it was unprofessional to become involved with his client, but that didn't make the attraction any less strong. "But I have to say, you're slacking on your security. You're supposed to be paying attention to your surroundings, not getting distracted by me."

You rolled your eyes at his comment, but secretly a part of you was flattered. It was true, you had caught yourself sneaking glances at him during performances, but you weren't about to admit that. "Oh, don't flatter yourself," you replied with a smirk. "I was just making sure you were doing your job properly." Daemon chuckled softly at your words, his eyes never leaving yours. He knew that you were trying to maintain a veneer of indifference, but he could see through it. He could sense the spark between you both, no matter how much you tried to downplay it. "I'm always doing my job," he said in a low voice. "Just make sure you're not distracting me too much with those pretty eyes of yours." You felt a hoard of butterflies in your stomach at his comment, but you forced yourself to keep your cool. Two could play at that game. You stepped closer to him, using your height and platform shoes to your advantage. "Oh, trust me, my eyes aren't the only part of me that's distracting," you purred, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

Daemon's breath hitched at your response, but he kept his expression cool. He wasn't about to let you know just how much you affected him. "Is that so?" he said, taking a step forward to close the distance between you. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it was driving him wild. "Careful now, little one. You might be playing with fire." You grinned, reveling in the effect you seemed to be having on him. It was rare for him to lose his cool exterior, and the fact that you were the one to make him falter was quite pleasing. "Oh, I can handle the heat," you said with a shrug. "But can you?" You stood on your tip toes and reached up, gently tugging on the lapel of his jacket to pull him closer. Daemon's eyes darkened as you pulled him closer, his resolve wavering slightly. He could feel the heat and electricity between you both like a tangible force. "You have no idea what kind of heat I can handle," he said in a low voice. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. He could feel your heart racing in your chest, and it only made his own beat faster.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he drew you closer, your body pressed against his. Being this close to him was intoxicating, it was like he was a drug and you were already addicted. "Oh yeah?" you murmured, your voice husky with desire. "Prove it." The concert ended and you managed to get through the mandatory pleasantries and goodbyes without incident. Finally, it was time to leave the venue. You bid goodbye to your friends and colleagues and stepped out into the cool night air. Daemon was by your side immediately, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he ushered you toward the car. As you made your way through the crowded parking lot, Daemon kept a watchful eye on your surroundings, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. He could feel the press of your body against his, and it sent a jolt of electricity through him. He knew he should keep his distance, but he couldn't help the way his body responded to you. Once you reached the car, he opened the door for you and waited until you were safely inside before shutting it and walking around to the driver's seat. You watched him through the window as he walked around the car, the muscles in his shoulders rippling beneath his shirt. You couldn't help but admire his powerful physique, and the way he moved with such calculated grace. When he finally settled in the driver's seat beside you, you turned to him, your expression coy. "Where to next, sir?" you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Daemon stifled a smirk as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He could feel your eyes on him and it was driving him wild. "Are you always this cheeky, or is it just for me?" he asked, his tone neutral. He glanced over at you, his eyes raking over your body. He had never wanted anyone quite like he wanted you at this moment. Daemon gritted his teeth at your tone, but he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. "Home," he said curtly. "It's late, and you have an early morning tomorrow." You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played at the corners of your lips. "Oh, come on, you love it," you teased. As the car pulled away from the venue, you leaned back in your seat and let out a sigh. "You know," you said, breaking the silence in the car, "I don't know how you manage to stay so stoic all the time. It's a bit disappointing, really. I was kind of hoping I could break through your icy exterior by now." Daemon let out a soft laugh at your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You think I'm icy, huh?" he said, stealing a glance at you. "I guess it's just part of the job, little one. Can't have me getting distracted while I'm supposed to be keeping you safe."

You pouted at his response, leaning your head against the window. "Boring," you drawled. "You can't just blame it on the job. I think you like to act tough because you think it makes you look cool and mysterious." Daemon chuckled again, shaking his head slightly. "Maybe it's a bit of that," he admitted. "But you have no idea how hard I have to work to keep my cool around you." He flicked his eyes to you, taking in your pouty expression. "You drive me absolutely wild, you know that? But I have to keep my head straight when I'm working." Your expression softened at his admission, and a small smile tugged at your lips. "Well, I'm glad to know I have that effect on you," you replied, your voice tinged with mischief. "But I have to say, keeping your head straight seems like a pretty tall order. I can guarantee you I'm not making it easy."

Daemon's grip on the wheel tightened as he heard the sultry tone in your voice, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to do to you. "You have no idea," he said gruffly. "Every time you look at me with those big pretty eyes of yours or touch me with those delicate little hands of yours, it takes everything I have to stay professional." You couldn't help but feel a thrill at his words, the fact that you had such an effect on him only made you want to push his buttons more. "Maybe I like seeing you struggle," you said, leaning closer to him and placing a hand on his thigh. "Maybe I like knowing I can break through that tough exterior and leave you a mess." Daemon's breath hitched as your hand landed on his thigh, his muscles tensing under your touch. "You're playing a dangerous game, little one," he warned, but there was no denying the hunger behind his words. He glanced over at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You keep testing me like this and I won't be able to hold back for much longer."

You grinned, enjoying the way you were making him squirm. "Who says I want you to hold back?" you purred, leaning even closer to him, your lips almost brushing his ear. "Maybe I like the idea of you losing control with me." Daemon clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to pull you into his lap and ravish you right there in the car. Your proximity and your words were driving him wild, and the sound of your sultry voice in his ear was quickly eroding his self-control. "You are the most infuriating woman," he said through gritted teeth. Your grin widened as you heard the strain in his voice, knowing you were causing him to lose his grip. "But you love it," you said, moving your hand further up his thigh. "You love the way I get under your skin and make you feel things you try so hard to keep locked away." Daemon let out a low growl as your hand inched higher up his thigh, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel too tightly. "You're playing with fire, darlin'. I've been good so far, but you keep pushing my buttons like this and you're gonna see a side of me you can't handle." He shot you a warning look, but the lust and desire in his eyes betrayed him.

You chuckled, not intimidated in the least. "Oh, I can handle you," you teased, squeezing his thigh for emphasis. "And as for that side of you, you keep trying to keep hidden, I think it's about time you let it out to play." You moved your mouth to his ear, your lips brushing against his skin as you whispered, "I can take whatever you throw at me, big guy." Daemon let out a guttural moan as your lips grazed his skin, his control slipping further away. The sound of your voice in his ear was like a siren song, making him crave you more than he ever thought possible. "Damn you," he muttered, his voice rough with barely contained desire. "You think you can handle me, huh? I'll show you just how wrong you are, you little brat." You felt a thrill at his words, the way he was struggling to keep his composure only made you want to push him further. "Bring it on, big guy," you teased. "I'm not afraid of you." You continued to tease him with your hands and your voice, wanting to see just how far you could push him before he snapped. The car finally pulled up outside your home, and Daemon cut the engine with a flick of his wrist. The air was thick with tension between the two of you, the electricity crackling with every look and touch. As the two of you sat just outside your home, Daemon sat for a moment, trying to regain his composure.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the thoughts and desires you had stirred up in him. After a moment, he turned to you, his expression a mixture of lust and frustration. "You're a damn tease, you know that?" he growled. You smirked at his words, loving the effect you were having on him. "And you're a stubborn control freak," you retorted, still not backing down. "It's about time you realized you can't always be in charge." You leaned closer to him, your lips only inches from his. "But we both know you like it when I challenge you, don't we?" Daemon gritted his teeth, your proximity and your words making his restraint wear thin. He wanted nothing more than to give in to the desire that was building inside him, but he was a man of control, used to being in command. "You're driving me wild, you know that?" he muttered. "You're like a storm, beautiful and dangerous, and I can't resist your pull." He reached out and grabbed your chin, pulling you closer. "But make no mistake, darlin', I'm still the one in charge here."

You let out a soft gasp as he grabbed your chin, the rough handling sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, is that so?" you purred, your lips only millimeters from his. "Why don't you prove it, then?" Even though you were the one in control of the situation so far, your pulse was racing and your breath was coming in shallow gasps. Daemon's eyes darkened with a mix of lust and determination as you challenged him, your proximity and your sultry tone igniting a fire within him. "Don't tempt me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Once I start, I won't be able to stop." He held your chin in his hand, his gaze burning into yours. "Are you sure you're ready for this, darlin'? Because I won't be gentle." Your heart hammered in your chest as you met his intense gaze. You were playing a dangerous game, teasing and challenging a man who was known for his self-control, but you couldn't help it. The way he looked at you with such hunger and intensity sent a thrill through you, making you more reckless than ever before. "I'm sure," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can take anything you dish out, big guy. Bring it on…. how about you come inside?"

Daemon's self-control finally snapped at your words, his restraint lost in a wave of desire and need. "You asked for it," he growled, his voice thick with hunger. Without waiting for a response, he quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the car door. He strode around to your side of the car and yanked open the passenger door, pulling you out of your seat with a firm grip on your wrist. "Inside," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "Now." You gasped as he yanked you out of the car, the force of his grip making your heart race even faster. You followed him obediently, almost feeling like a pet being led on a leash. As soon as you stepped inside your home, he slammed the door shut and pushed you up against it, pinning you there with his body. His eyes glittered with a dark intensity that made your stomach flutter. "Now you're mine," he said, his voice hot against your ear. There was no going back now, you had pushed him past his breaking point and now you were about to see just what he was capable of. Daemon's body was taut with tension and desire as he pressed you against the wall, the weight of his body pinning you in place. His hands came up to cup your face, his touch rough and demanding as he held you in place. "You've been pushing my buttons all night," he muttered, his voice a low rumble. "Now you get to see what happens when you drive a man wild." Without warning, he slanted his mouth over yours, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss.

You couldn't help but moan into his kiss, your body reacting to his touch with a mind of its own. He was overwhelming your senses, his grip on your face and his body pressed against you left you feeling helpless and yet utterly desperate for more. You returned his kiss with an intensity that matched his own, your hands gripping his shirt and pulling him closer. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, his desire like a flame that threatened to consume you whole. Daemon groaned, his kiss becoming more urgent and desperate as he tasted you. He released your face, his hands wandering down to your waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. His hips rocked against you, grinding his growing arousal against you as he deepened the kiss. "Damn you," he muttered, his lips moving against yours. "You drive me insane." Your breath hitched as his hips pressed against you, the feel of his hardness making your body respond with a wave of heat. You gasped against his mouth, your mind lost in a fog of desire. "Daemon," you panted, your voice pleading and desperate. "Don't stop, please. I need you, more than air."

Daemon growled low in his throat at your pleading words, the sound sending shivers through you. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. "You beg so pretty, darlin'," he murmured, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them tightly. "And I'm going to give you exactly what you need, but it won't be gentle." You arched your neck back, offering up more of your skin for him to claim. His words sent a thrill through you, making you shiver with anticipation. "I don't need gentle," you gasped, your hands moving to tangle in his hair. "I just need you, all of you. Take me, any way you want." Daemon let out a low hiss at your words, his control slipping further with each passing moment. He nipped at your neck before pulling away slightly and looking down at you with darkened eyes. "You won't be able to walk straight tomorrow," he promised, his voice rough with desire. "I'm gonna make sure you feel me for days." Without warning, he picked you up easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you towards your bedroom.

You let out a gasp as he picked you up, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. You could feel the heat and strength of his body as he carried you, and the knowledge that he was in complete control both terrified and excited you. "I don't care if I can't walk," you gasped, your mouth hovering just above his ear as if not even thinking of the full day ahead of you. "I just want you. Now." Daemon grunted in response, the huskiness in your voice only fueling his own desire. He kicked open the door to your bedroom and strode towards the bed, dropping you down onto it with a soft thump. He followed you down, his body covering yours as he looked down at you with a mixture of hunger and possessiveness in his eyes. "You're mine," he growled, his hands roaming your body as he started to remove your clothes with rough, needy motions. "And I'm going to make you scream my name." You let out a gasp as he tore away your clothes, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You could feel the need and desire radiating off of him, and it only served to heighten your own feelings. "Yes," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "I'm yours. I'm all yours. Do whatever you want with me, just please, don't stop."

Daemon's breath hitched at your words, his eyes darkening further as he looked down at you. The sight of your exposed body beneath him only served to stoke the fire of his desire, and he quickly shed his own clothes. "I won't hold back," he muttered, his hands roaming over your skin, claiming every inch of you. "You asked for this." Without warning, he claimed your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, his hands continuing to explore your body with urgency and hunger. You moaned into his kiss, your body responding to his touch on instinct. His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, and you felt like you were drowning in a sea of sensation. You arched your body up to meet his, desperate for more, more contact, more sensation. Your hands roamed over his back and shoulders, feeling the strength and power coiled just underneath his skin. "Don't hold back," you panted, your voice hoarse with need. "I can take it, I want it, I need it." Daemon groaned, his body shuddering with need as you writhed beneath him. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a path down your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. "You're so damn responsive," he muttered, his hands roaming over your body, tracing every curve and contour. "It's like you were made for me." He nicked at your skin, his teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh. "I want to taste every inch of you."

You gasped and arched up to meet him as he kissed and bit his way down your body, your hands fisting in the sheets beneath you. The feel of his mouth and hands on your skin was driving you wild, and you could feel your body responding with a primal need. "Please," you panted, your voice thick with desire. "Don't tease me, I can't take it. I need you, now." Daemon growled, his restraint crumbling as your words and body reacted to his touch. He knew he was driving you wild, and it only made him want you more. He pulled away slightly, his eyes meeting yours, darkened with a feral hunger. "You don't get to tell me what to do, darlin'," he said roughly, his voice thick with desire. "And I'll tease you as much as I want." Without warning, he pressed his body against yours, his weight pinning you to the bed as he claimed your mouth in a hot, possessive kiss. You tried to suppress a moan as he pressed himself against you, the feel of his body and his lips on yours sending a wave of heat through you. He was in complete control, and you both knew it, but you couldn't help but push back against him, a little bit of defiance still left in you. "Don't be a tease," you managed to gasp between kisses. "I need you, now, please."

Daemon's body tautened as you spoke, his own need becoming almost unbearable. He broke the kiss, his lips hovering millimeters from yours as he looked down at you. "You want me, huh?" he muttered, his voice rough with desire. "You want me to give you exactly what you need, right now?" He leaned back slightly, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you, vulnerable and desperate beneath him. "Beg for it." You swallowed hard as he pulled back, his eyes raking over you, taking in every inch of your exposed flesh. You were already a mess, your body craving his touch with a need that bordered on desperation. The fact that he was still in complete control, holding himself back just enough to drive you wild, was maddening. "Please," you panted, your voice strained with need. "Please, Daemon, I need you. I'll do anything, just please, give me what I want."

Daemon's eyes darkened further as you begged him, the sound of your need and pleading driving him wild. He leaned back in, his body once again pressing heavily against yours. "You're so damn beautiful when you beg," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "And I can't resist when you look at me like that." He cupped your face in his hand, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. "But I think first I wanna hear you say it." You let out a soft gasp as he cupped your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat and desire radiating off of him, and it only served to fuel your own need. "Say what?" you asked, your voice breathless and needy. "What do you want me to say? I'll say anything, just please, don't make me wait any longer." Daemon's eyes darkened even further, his gaze locking onto yours. "Say you're mine," he muttered, his voice rough and possessive. "Say you belong to me. That I can do whatever I want with you, whenever I want. And that you'll take whatever I give you, and you'll crave more. Say it."

You felt like your entire body was on fire, your need for him almost painful. You let out a shuddering breath, your eyes locked with his. "I'm yours," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "I belong to you, completely. You can do whatever you want with me, whenever you want. I'll take whatever you give me, and I'll always crave more. I'm yours, Daemon, only yours." Daemon let out a low, guttural moan, your words sending a rush of heat through him. He claimed your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, seeking, claiming, consuming. His hands roamed over your body, touching, claiming, possessing. "You're mine, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice rough with desire, as he broke the kiss and nuzzled your neck. "All damn mine." You melted beneath his touch, your body responding to his every move with a mix of need and surrender. "Yeah," you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. "All yours, only yours. Just please, I need you, now." Every touch, every kiss, only served to fuel the fire that was burning inside of you, a fire that only he could extinguish.

His eyes darkened with desire as he watched you unravel beneath him, your pleas igniting something primal within him. He didn't need to be told twice. With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, positioning you so that you were straddling his hips. The tip of his throbbing member teased at your entrance before he thrust into you with a force that left both of you gasping for air. A loud cry escaped your lips as Daemon's thick length filled you in one powerful stroke, stretching you deliciously around his girth. Your nails dug into his chest as you adjusted to his size, the pleasure-pain sending sparks through your nerves. "Oh god…" you panted, your head falling back as he began to move within you, each thrust driving deeper, harder. The wet sounds of your coupling echoed through the room, mingling with your ragged breathing and moans of ecstasy. "More…please, give me more!" You begged shamelessly, lost to the overwhelming sensations consuming you whole. Daemon gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you steady as he pounded into you with ruthless abandon. Each deep, punishing thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins, pushing you closer to the edge. "Take it all, little brat," he snarled, his voice raw with lust. "Every inch of my cock is meant for this sweetness."

He reached up to wrap a hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch into him. The dual sensations of his fingers on your pulse point and his thick shaft splitting you open had you teetering on the brink of climax. The roughness of his grip sent another wave of heat coursing through you, making your entire body tremble with anticipation. You threw your head back, exposing the tender column of your neck, a silent invitation for him to explore further. "Yes, yes, just like that," you whimpered, feeling the coil within tightening dangerously. His thumb pressed against your throat, cutting off your breath momentarily before releasing it in a rush, intensifying the sensation of being completely owned by him. "I'm close…so fucking close," you confessed, your inner walls clenching around him instinctively. He felt your body start to tighten around him, signaling your impending release, and it spurred him on even more. His thrusts became erratic, driven by pure, unadulterated lust. "Come for me, love," he commanded, his voice dripping with carnal intent. "Show me how much you want it."

Your body convulsed as the first wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath Daemon. Your inner walls clenched around his throbbing length, milking him for everything he was worth. "Oh fuck…Daemon!" you cried out, your body writhing uncontrollably under his touch. The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming that it brought tears to your eyes, blurring your vision as you rode out the orgasmic waves crashing over you. Daemon groaned deeply as he felt you come undone around him, your tight sheath rippling along his shaft. It was almost too much to bear. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you and let go, spilling his hot seed deep within your quivering depths. "Fuck, yes," he hissed through gritted teeth, his body shuddering with the force of his own climax. As the last tremors subsided, he collapsed back onto the bed, pulling you down to lie atop him, still joined intimately. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as they both struggled to catch their breath. As the aftershocks of your orgasm slowly faded away, you lay there, panting heavily against Daemon's chest. The warmth of his cum filling you made you feel complete, and cherished. You turned your face towards him, pressing a soft, satisfied kiss to his lips. "That was incredible," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're amazing." The feeling of being held tightly by him after such an intense experience was soothing and comforting, and you found yourself not wanting to pull away anytime soon.

He smiled against your lips, a rare moment of tenderness breaking through the usual facade of dominance. "And you, little minx," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face, "are utterly bewitching." There was a contentment in his voice that hadn't been there before, a satisfaction that came from having fulfilled a deep-seated craving. Slowly, he rolled you onto your side, keeping you nestled against him, his arm draped possessively across your waist. "We'll do this again," he promised, already plotting future encounters in his mind. You woke up the next morning feeling sore and tired, but blissfully satisfied. The memories of last night came back to you in a flood, and you smiled as you realized that you were still in bed with Daemon. You turned over to look at him, only to find that he was already awake, watching you with a lazy smile on his face.

Daemon's eyes took in the sight of your satisfied smile and messy bed hair, he felt a mixture of pride and contentment. He reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "Morning, darlin'," he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. "How you feelin' this morning?" You leaned into his touch, a contented sigh escaping your lips. "I'm feeling sore," you admitted with a small laugh, "but absolutely wonderful. Last night was… incredible." Your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of his satisfied expression. "How about you? Did I wear you out?" He chuckled, a roguish smile playing on his lips. "You damn near killed me," he said, his words punctuated by a lazy stretch. "But I ain't complainin'. I could get used to seeing you like this every morning." He leaned in closer, his voice growing huskier. "All disheveled and satisfied, and all mine." You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, your body responding to his possessive tone. You reached out to touch his chest, feeling the heat and strength of his body beneath your fingers. "Careful," you teased, a smile playing on your lips. "I might just have to test that theory."

His eyes darkened at your touch, his body responding instantly to the feel of your fingers. "Is that so?" he said, his voice dropping even lower. "You think you're up for round three already?" He shifted closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. "Or do you need a break first, darlin'?" Your morning reverie is interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by your assistant's voice from the other side. "Knock knock," she calls out cheerfully. "I've got a list of things that need your attention-" The door swings open, and she stops mid-sentence as she takes in the sight of you and Daemon, tangled up in the bedsheets. "Oh?" Daemon stiffened as the assistant barged in with no warning, quickly trying to keep the sheets covering his and your mostly exposed bodies. He couldn't help but scowl at her intrusion, his arms instinctively tightening around you as if to shield you from her gaze. "Ever heard of knockin' and waitin' for a damn response?" he snapped gruffly. Your assistant blushed profusely, her eyes widening as she realized the situation fully sunk in. "I'm sorry," she stammered out, her voice high-pitched and embarrassed. "I didn't realize- I'll just-" She quickly turned and tried to exit the room, but in her rush, she tripped over the rug near the door and crashed to the floor with a loud thump.

Daemon rolled his eyes at the sight of your clumsy assistant, but his grip on you didn't loosen. If anything, he held you even tighter, pulling you closer to him and the safety of the bed. "For the love of God…" he muttered, his voice an annoyed grumble. "She's a walking disaster, ain't she?" You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of your assistant sprawled out on the floor, clearly embarrassed and flustered. "Yeah, she's a bit clumsy," you admitted, your voice full of fondness. "But she's loyal and hardworking, so I keep her around." You looked up at Daemon, a sly smile on your face. "And she knows when to make herself scarce, thankfully." Daemon chuckled, his mood somewhat brightened by your fond words for your assistant. He leaned back against the headboard, pulling you with him so that you were half-reclined on his chest. "Yeah, I think the poor thing got the message," he said, his tone dry. "But I can't deny she's got great timing. Or lack thereof, in this case."

You snuggled up against him, enjoying the feeling of his warm, solid chest beneath you. "I guess we should count ourselves lucky," you joked. "Otherwise, we'd probably never get anything done." You glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and sighed. "Speaking of which, I do actually have things to do today…" Daemon groaned lowly in response, his arms tightening around you possessively. He nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to commit your scent to memory, before pulling back slightly. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered, his tone resigned. "You've got a business to run. But can't a man just hold his brat a little longer?" You chuckled at his words, touched by his possessiveness. "Of course you can," you reassured him. "And I would love that. But I really do have to get up. We can always pick this up later, though…" You reluctantly started to extricate yourself from his embrace, planting a quick kiss on his lips before standing up. He lets out a huff, watching as you reluctantly untangle yourself from his arms and rise from the bed, already missing the warmth of your body against his. He props himself up on his elbows, the sheets pooling around his waist and revealing his bare chest. "Promises, promises," he mutters, a roguish smile playing on his lips. "I'll hold you to that, you know. And I aim to collect, darlin'."

[maikissed]

and the day after that, and day after that

jude bellingham x reader a bit angsty, a little bit of drama and a lot of monologue, i like drama

You took a minute to wonder when has it started, really, what pivotal moment changed the perspective, the trajectory of new feelings, harsh and alerting, making you nervous and full of doubt that whatever follows, would bring anything good of it. Because you noticed, it was hard to pinpoint the moment when, but you did. It was there, in the softness of his eyes when he looked at you, payed attention to your words and actions, the gentle smile displayed on his lips, slightly curved on the side in a adoring kind of way. The way he touched you when he meant to, on your shoulder, your neck or your arm. Touches sometimes unnecessary but present, warm and lingering. Or brief, but still there. Filled with something different from those in the past. Innocent, yet intentional. You felt, knew, it was different.

Maybe it was somewhere around the time when he was coming back from Dortmund for vacation, so full of pride and joy, fuelled by many successes of his and his team. The world started to hear about him and he was floating in praise. It kept changing him, not exactly in a negative way, but it kept his head higher. He knew his worth, simply the rest of them started to learn it now. That gave him a peck of confidence, you noticed him grow in this. And it’s been remarkable, to watch him develop in every way so much.

When he was about to take a plane to England, every time he made sure to give you notice about his comeback, searching for your arms to be the first that embrace him on his welcome party. Parties in a meaning of a little friend gathering. Sometimes real parties, when you all were feeling like it. You were noticing the attention back then, different, prominent. You started calling him your boy, still slightly oblivious of his intentions, or you’ve simply turned a blind eye on everything around you, wanting to accompany him on this journey and not cause a fuss about something that maybe is not there for a fact. You kept being a good friend.

And you kept your cool, rolling with all of it just fine. It’s been fine, but everything skyrocketed when his career went on a higher range path as he joined Real Madrid in last July. Now, that was some boost to Jude’s ego. And it’s been astonishing that every time he came back now, he was presenting a different, much developed persona. A man, as you noticed with a flutter of your heart. Man with responsibility, worked up discipline, well-groomed talent and a radiant self-confidence that you knew not many women can say no to. But you were not a woman for his choice, you were too old for him. From the moment when you’d been kids, strutting down the province to buy some ice cream in a corner shop. You as a young guardian, since your little brother and his jumpy friend with big dark eyes and funny ears were too young to pay the cashier the right amount of money for your sweetmeats.

Now, it’s been a joyful night and at the end of it you found yourself standing in front of him leaned back on the huge sofa in your hotel room. You’ve been laughing non stop for the last two hours and you didn’t even remember exactly how both of you ended up in your suite, leaving your friends behind. You breathed in a huff, slightly exhausted by your alcoholic trance, smile still visible on your face. You leaned back on the edge of a little table in the middle of the room and you spotted him doing the exact thing that made you unbelievably anxious lately. He kept watching you, intensively, so passionately you felt all parts of your body as if exposed to him. Like you were a painting, the sight of which he’d rather die than part with. He’s been close to you all night. You could feel him sneaking in. There was a reason he came after you here, wasn’t there?

“Jude” you breathed, nervous, not very much ready for this conversation.

He hummed in question, playing with the soft brink of the armrest of the sofa with his fingers.

“Stop looking at me like that” you stated a longer moment after.

There was a inquiry in his expression after your words. He anticipated you elaborate.

“I can’t shake the feeling that you’re seeing me different than you’ve used to”

You kept your cool. Good.

“What do you mean, y/n?” he murmured, and his face now did not appear unaware of the course of this conversation. Like he was prepared.

“I am not…” it was hard to fight the bile that started to form in your throat.

It was not that hard. The rejection. You’ve done this before. But it was not just some guy. He was your friend. Childhood companion.

“…I can’t be what you want me to be”

He went rigid, his eyes turned hard, lips stiff. He incited you to continue.

“It can’t happen” you voiced it out surely. Your eyes still not leaving his. You had to be resolved and purposeful.

His jaw clicked as he looked down at his hand as if looking for composure. Swiftly he brought his eyes back to your face.

“It’s done already” he stated in a firm voice and you shook a little in horror.

Whatever he meant?

“I’m not playing anything, y/n. It’s done already and I don’t really have the intention to fight it.”  

“What do you mean by done?” you went pale.

Amongst many things that Jude were, he was definitely a man of devotion, conviction and determination. You were shaking in your limbs at the magnitude of these words. These were serious ones.

He laughed lightly at your question. He knew you were playing dumb for your safety.

“I know what I want” he started quietly “And I aim to have it” a dangerous spark in his eyes.

Was this his go? To rile you up?

“What exactly do you want?” you stared to banter.

“You”

He said it so effortlessly but his voice hardened slightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous” there was a snort leaving your mouth as you tried to turn away for his fiery gaze.

You went for a glass of wine you poured yourself earlier, in a need of something that’ll make this easier for you. Many questions appearing in your head of how to save this situation without it shattering everything you’ve had between you.

“You don’t find me enough, then?” he asked from the distance.

At least the distance was safe.

It was your turn to laugh. You almost threw your head back.

“I am too old for you, Jude” you argued, now fire appearing in your eyes as well because all of this was not so definite on your side.

How have you been perceiving him? The answer to this question was far more complicated than his “I know what I want” statement. Because you did not know. All you knew is that the last thing you wanted is for the world to shatter at your feet because you did something as repellent as throwing yourself at such younger boy.

“I don’t give two fucks about…”

“But I do!” you turned sharply to face his way “What about my saying in this?!”

“Voice it out then, fully” he tempted.

Bigger, his eyes turned even bigger. You prayed for your legs to not lead you closer to him.

“It’s wrong, it’s weird. What would your mother have to say about this, the public?!” you hissed, scolding him almost.

He did not liked to be scolded. By anyone, except his mother. Well, not many would like to get into Denise’s black book.

“Oh, please, my mom adores you” he scoffed trying to make you sound unreasonable.

“As a family friend!” an obvious statement “And it would look dreadfully wrong, for a five years older woman to groom a boy such as yourself!” you snapped.

He frowned at the term you named him in such sentence. You definitely wounded him by it, choosing to strike with a necessary impudence.

“To groom?” laughter enveloped his features.

He was not to give up on this. It mildly made you want to come up to him and shake him.

“Yes, that’s a word for it”

“It’s an exaggeration”

“Are you in love with me, Jude?!” that was definitely a question you yearned to hear an answer to. Looking for advantage.

He blinked, swallowing sharply. And your knees went weak because you knew that look on his gentle face. Softer, boyish, fond. The fire died in his eyes for a moment, leaving room for waving devotion. Like an ocean in the darkness.

“Yes” he breathed.

Fuck.

“Do you even know what that means?!” you could slap him in the face as well, probably would be more subtle.

“For fuck’s sake, y/n” he moved forwards on the settee, clasping his hands together.

“It’s a lot Jude, and you’re not in love” were you trying to put feelings and thoughts of your choosing in his head right now? Most likely. “It is not a time or place for a boyish infatuation” you fumed.

He stood up abruptly and you shook in your place.

“Do you want me to prove you it’s far from being a boyish infatuation?” a step forward, putting you into action to take a step back. “Your reaction says a lot about that” he stated noticing you fighting the intention to circle the table.

Breathe in, breath out.

“If it’s lust, it means little and dies quickly” you breathed, your chest falling and raising faster. You were raging, with… something.

“If it was just lust, I would’ve snapped years ago” he burked rolling his shoulders back.

You snorted.

“I am not trying to force anything on you” he took another step your way.

You stood still. Hold your ground, you kept saying to yourself.

“And the last thing I want is for us to fell apart” just few feet away from each other now, you looking up at him “But you’re putting a hell lot of work for this denial, because you’re looking at me different than you’ve used to as well.”

A sharp intake of breath. You realised it was yours. From this proximity he could hear. And you weren’t looking at him, focusing your absent gaze on his chest, searching for composure. Suddenly his fingers appeared under your chin, tilting your head up delicately. You gave in, exhausted, almost.

“Sweet dreams, we’ll see each other tomorrow” he smiled with reassurance in his eyes, honest and with gentleness “And the day after that, and day after that” his thumb grazed your under chin when he whispered these words to you.

You narrowed your eyes trying to get an answer to the true meaning of this promise. But he left your room before your smart mouth could work proper again.

[punkpandapatrixk]

💓Heartbeat Disco ☆ Timeless Tarot Guidance

Elements/Signs in this reading are calibrated to all aenergetic placements. Feel free to read as many Elements/Signs as you feel called to at this point in your spiritual evolution♡

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Are you feeling this aenergy of a Higher Romance that’s been pouring unto Earth this year? Earth’s temperatures are finally changing and so many Destined Lovers are going to find each other in the coming decades. I hope you’re excited for that for yourself~ You might just get a heartbeat disco this year and I hope that gets you enjoying Life and Love all over again! ☆

Fated encounters? Honest romance? Love that doesn’t leave you guessing? What’s coming to you in Love within the year you’re seeing this reading?! I hope your happiness is here to stay finally~♪

☆♪°・. aenergetic companion PAC ☆♪°・.

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Heartbeat Disco for 🐞Fire Signs – Gold Astrologer (Simon Forman)

Page of Cups, 8 of Swords, 6 of Pentacles

This year, Fire Signs, you are going to meet very interesting people that will make your heart flutter. This isn’t just about romance but a real sense of human connection that makes you understand, finally, that good people really do exist. And you’ll be glad you never lost hope in people—at least, not entirely XD The people you’ll be encountering are either younger than you in age or they simply exude a joyful and optimistic aura. These people are going to pull you into their worlds—their worlds are very exciting. You just need to know that you, too, have a place in those worlds.

Up until now, you’ve lived under the impression that you’d never amount to anything. This was all a mind game though; perhaps your society made you believe that someone from your country or background would never be able to be where you dream to be; perhaps you were gaslit since childhood, being made to believe that you’re worthless; perhaps there were many evil whispers about your power and talents. All’s a mind game. You’re getting out of that fuck-fog; you’re seeing your true worth now and you have been magnetising your Tribe.

This year—whatever year you’re finding this reading—you’re on the fast track towards your Soul Tribe and that place you belong to. On this new land, on this new landscape, you will be sharing positive aenergies and ideas with people who are similar to you not only in character but also in dreams and ambitions. For the first time ever, you will truly know what it feels like to have a ‘family’. And this family is so much better than you could’ve ever imagined~🍀

Oracle Guidance for Fire Signs🔻❤️

🐏Aries – Priestess of Prosperity

🦁Leo – Priestess of Luxury

🎠Sagittarius – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Heartbeat Disco for 🐍Earth Signs – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

3 of Cups Rx, Queen of Cups Rx, 8 of Wands

Wow, seems you’ve been through some betrayals up until this point. It could also be a feeling of being disappointed in people—people or communities you thought had your best interests. For quite a while now, I think you’ve been in a purging phase. Ridding yourself of attachments and expectations that no longer served your highest good. It seems to me this year you’re still gonna be in that phase. This year is probably your last leg of the purging process though.

This whole being isolated, being alone, keeping to your own, learning to care for your mental health, has been necessary as part of your growing up. This is integral to your character/story development. Your Higher Self (and likely your ancestors, too) wanted to shield you from outside forces—vampiric forces—that would’ve drunk from your aenergy constantly, leaving you mentally drained and exhausted.

This year could be your last year of being alone in that sense—or maybe some time beginning next year. Your new chapter of better communications and better connections with high-quality people is only beginning to unfold. It hasn’t even started yet, dang. So keep going and be expectant for what’s to come. You have high places to go and powerful/inspirational people to meet. Your glorious days are yet to come, babe~🥂

Oracle Guidance for Earth Signs🔻💚

🐂Taurus – Priestess of Ritual

🧘🏻‍♀️Virgo – Priestess of Opulence

🐐Capricorn – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Heartbeat Disco for ⛲Air Signs – Gold Astronomer (John Dee)

Knight of Cups, 9 of Wands Rx, Knight of Wands

Have you been wishing upon a star for a healthy Love? Seems like lately there’s been a love song in your heart <3 Seems like your Higher Self is announcing the advent of someone special this year hahah Of all the Signs, Air and Water seem like they’re going to be having the hardest heartbeat disco LMAO A destined encounter is very likely to happen for Air Signs this year. I sense you’re on the trajectory of a Soul Mission. I know you’ve been having signs and synchronicities. Your Spirit Guides have been giving you premonitions~

You’re seriously coming out of a karmic loop where in the past relationships were always taxing on your emotions, and simply, difficult/confusing to navigate. You’ve done all the inner work now. Starting this year, it’s like you’ve transported yourself into a different timeline altogether and you will start meeting very important Souls throughout the next chapter of your Life. In what ways are they important? All ways! You’ll know when you meet them! The excitement in your heart will tell you what purpose each Soul is meant to serve in your Story.

Some may lead you towards your Life Purpose; some may really carry you through the storms so you get to your Life Purpose; some may work with you as part of your collective dharmic Life Purpose. The scenarios vary but the people you will begin to meet starting this year are those that will make you fall in love with Life and yourself again. For some, romance may not seem all too close this year because you’re really working on your enterprise, but that surely can come later, right? XD

Oracle Guidance for Air Signs🔻💙

👯Gemini – Priestess of Intellect

⚖️Libra – Priestess of Illumination

🏺Aquarius – Priestess of Enchantment

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Heartbeat Disco for 🐝Water Signs – Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

4 of Pentacles Rx, 4 of Swords Rx, 5 of Swords Rx

Ready to mingle, Water Signs? :D Y’all seem to be the peeps who are most ready to re-enter society LOL You’re the ones who have been most disciplined in your healing and transformation. I sense this is especially the case if Water is your Moon or Ascendant! And to some extent, if Water is your North Node or the NN is in a Water House. Anyway, you’ve done such a marvellous inner work all by yourself, isolated from society and some of you have probably been dealing with curses and financial misery and whatnot. You’ve been keeping your chin up tho! The time for you to get rich, mingling, and be of assistance to others is NOW!

If you’ve not been able to go out or work regularly or even hold a decent conversation with anyone, soon you’ll see that you’re coming back to your healthy self. It’s your psychology that you’ve been working so hard on fixing and healing. This year is the end of all your spiritual struggles. You’re coming into your authentic power, your authentic expression. You don’t care anymore and you won’t be easily triggered by what used to depress you so much before. You’ve won this WAR against frequencies that were trying to destroy you from the inside!

I’m actually seeing bombs raining down on whoever tried to mess with you up until recently XD All of the bad karma, all of the negative thought-forms formed against you are firing back at their generator(s). You’re safe. You’re on calm shores now. And moving forward, you’re going to be surrounded by new friends and family who are going to be so supportive as well as protective of you. Congratulations! Love is in the aethers for you! Claim it~ Aaaahh! <3<3<3 Happiness is the most potent revenge on those who wished death upon your Light!

Oracle Guidance for Water Signs🔻💛

🦀Cancer – Priestess of Healing

🦂Scorpio – Priestess of Solitude

🎏Pisces – Priestess of Love

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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[the-daiz]

Private canvas | Flashy flash

Genre; fluff

Pairing: Flashy flash x reader

Synopsis; What better way to test out your new lipstick shade than on him?

A/N: wonky brainrot thanks to this post. Thank you @10ve1ess for the idea 💋💋

Flashy flash's right eye scrunched close as you pressed a long kiss against his cheekbone, his head held firmly in place from the diligent clutch you had on his jaw.

His hand subtly shifted on your hip as you held yourself in place, making sure to leave another prominent red stain on his face. You pulled back, your fingers still gripping his chin whilst you inspected your precise art. You faintly moved his face to the side to assess the lipstick stain you imprinted on him, measured with your calculated gaze to pair perfectly with the other similarly striking marks scattered across his face.

An accomplished smile adorned your features as you peered down at him. He stared back at you with a serene expression, admiring you while you marveled at the masterpiece you had created of him.

You picked up the Polaroid camera lying beside him— or rather, the both of you— and pushed your hips off him with both your knees still planted on either side of his pelvis, pinning him against the bed. You pointed the camera down at him as you pressed it against your face, waiting a moment before snapping another shot, the camera's flash momentarily lighting up his face.

He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes with his fingers, his other hand still resting on your waist, moving along with you as you lowered yourself back down on his lap. You plucked out the film from the device and started shaking it.

You looked at the frame, the picture capturing his radiant stillness slowly developing on it. "Glad you declined that modeling offer."

"Why?" He hummed, raising a brow. "Don't tell me you'd be jealous."

"Fuming with jealousy." You shamelessly admitted, glancing down at him as you continued to shake the picture held between your fingers. "Everyone would be drooling all over you..."

"Is that so?" He let a sly smile curl on his lips, his finger tapping lightly on your side. "Well, aren't you a lucky one to have me?"

"Oh no, I've boosted your ego now, haven't I?" You rolled your eyes.

"Perhaps."

"What a pain." You huffed, your gaze trailing back to the frame. You grinned slightly as the image recording his seamless mien cleared. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No please, continue. Tell me how flawless I am and how I'm simply an array of unfathomable talent and skill." He spoke in a playful tone. You didn't grant him a reaction as you grabbed the other pictures and held them together in your hands, eyeing them with a satisfied gleam.

"Ok, you can stop talking now." You tossed the images aside and sunk down to mold your lips into his. He needn't but a second to quickly match your rhythm, his fingers trailing up to frame the side of your neck, his other hand tugging at your waist to pull you closer against him as if your bodies weren't already pressed flush against each other. He kissed with impatient passion, and you responded in kind, your hands gliding over his jawline then sliding to cup his cheekbone.

He tilted your head to better align with his but as he was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled away abruptly. Flash's eyes fluttered open, watching you as you leaned away from him with a slight pinch in his brows.

You eyed the smudged red lipstick painting his mouth so pleasantly. 

"Wait, hold still." You hurriedly picked up the Polaroid once again, bringing it up to rest over your eye. He sighed and covered the lens of the camera with his palm, then gently tugged it down so you'd look at him. 

"I held still enough. Can you continue your photoshoot later?" His tone sounded with impatience, blue eyes narrowing as he tilted his head back against the pillow.

"No- you look perfect right now!" You argued with a pleading look. "One more, please?"

He let out an exasperated breath and let his hand slip away from the camera. "Fine."

[rubengrey]

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[cinnamonglrls]

kerosene. [R.R]

summary: the fire reaches a fever pitch.

wc: 5.7k

4,320 seconds. 

180 days.

26 weeks.

Six months.

Pure, unequivocal radio silence.

You got the message, especially after your blue message spun green when you texted him the morning after that night at HEIDI’s. You got the message, especially when he subtly swerved your attempts at approaching him on two separate occasions with the intent of sincerely apologizing for your inebriated lapse of judgement face-to-face— your persistance a true testament of your developing appreciation of the budding friendship you two were cultivating in the bracket of time post-injury and pre-fallout, no matter how short lived it was.

A corpse of a caterpillar before it could ever bloom into a butterfly. 

4,320 seconds. 

180 days.

26 weeks.

Six months.

In all honesty, you wanted to be buried where you laid. When you awoke with three flutters of your eyelids that morning, a shutter of film-burned memories of the night prior rolling on a reel that you played, paused, rewinded and repeated in your mind’s eye, you wanted to be buried where you laid. It was the type of regret and humiliation that drives you into nosediving beneath the cover of your duvet, hiding from the harsh realities and cruel, cruel consquences of casamigos.

He’s fucking married.

You groaned and moaned and pressed your knuckles into the corners of your closed eyeballs in frustration, berating yourself underneath the safety of the thick comforter where no one could find you.

4,320 seconds. 

180 days.

26 weeks.

Six months.

You had heard it in passing. You were winding down for the night at the barren arena after a show in Chicago. Only a few people were left at the venue, comprising of staff and a handful of wrestlers who were scheduled to perform near the end of the show that night. You were stripped clean of your in-ring gear and settled for something far more comfortable; a tight angelic tank top with black sweatpants. A NIKE duffle bag hanging off of your shoulder as you cruised the hallway on your way out to the escalade that would then lead you to your hotel for the night when a murmured conversation you couldn't help but overhear as you passed an office peaked your interest.

“… Has a really good eye for talent. I mean Roman was the one who put Isabel on Paul’s radar when she was still over at NXT, after all. I think that…”

It stopped you in your tracks.

You slowly leaned your body onto the cold cinderblock wall in the dimlit vacant hallway, a few safe feet away from the source of the voices. A deep fold etched between the natural arches of your brows as you stay within earshot of the conversation but also at secure enough distance to eavesdrop without arousing suspicion. Roman put you on Paul’s radar? 

You don’t remember how long you stood hidden in that dark hall, quiet as a mouse with your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip and then your fingernails, a cycle that rotated as you skimmed through cold memories of how unwelcome you were made to feel upon your debut at his hands, which was bad enough. But he was a factor in the reason you were placed on the main roster in the first place?

It wasn’t until you heard shuffling of feet originating from the office that you hurriedly pushed yourself off the wall and made your way down the hall and out the building.

4,320 seconds. 

180 days.

26 weeks.

Six months.

Part-timer.

It was a nickname he worked overtime to earn.

Since the fallout, he’d begun limiting his appearances on television— only showing face once every two to three weeks at best. A privilege that came with the termination of the storyline that included you two, coincidently. 

The sudden decision to cut the cord on the narrative, which came only three weeks after that fateful night, snatched the rug right from beneath your feet. It cut your air time by a whopping seventy-five percent, infuriating loyal wrestling fans all around the world who made their voices heard. 

Trending tweets. Cunning signs. Persistent chants.

The people wanted you so much that you were coined The People’s Princess.™

Paul’s demeanor as he delivered you the news indicated that there was nothing he could do. It was beyond him. 

The biggest upset of it all, a sentiment that you felt deep within you and a sentiment that wrestling outlets and general fans all around the world who also had the capacity to recognize it echoed: this juggernaut of an opportunity to showcase your skill was seized from you before you could really prove yourself worthy. To the people, to yourself.

A corpse of a caterpillar before it could ever bloom into a butterfly. 

And now, there’s a fire sparking in your gut.

Chocolate covered strawberries, extravagant flowers, trips out the country, frequent and random proclamations of love.

There wasn’t a stone Roman left unturned for Thea. 

Overcompensation tends to be a symptom of gnawing guilt, after all. 

His forehead gently falls against your knee at the same time his eyes flutter closed in surrender, like he knows what you’re thinking about. Like he’s thinking about it too. You spread your legs a tiny inch. A forbidden invitation paired with a whiny whimper; a desperate siren plea of his name.

After bolting out of your hotel room that night with the speed of lightning, he stayed encaged within the peace of his escalade for a long time before pulling off, tightening his jaw and flexing his fingers for any semblance of control. And he’ll never admit it if he was ever confronted, but he spun the block. He pulled back into the parking garage and contemplated it.

He thought about it.  

But then he thought about Thea. Thea, who has never forsaken him. Thea, who has suffered through the loss of all three babies they’ve ever conceived before birth. Thea, who slept on uncomfortable chairs at the hospital during the trials and tribulations of his health battles. Thea, who left everything she’s ever known to facilitate his career aspirations. 

So how could he? He couldn’t.

He did everything in his power to scrub your essence off of him: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. He showered three times in succession. He blocked your phone number. Then, he made a couple phone calls to management with a request that carried no room for leeway this time around.

He dug through the cardboard boxes in the dark and dusty attic and stared at the crumpled up piece of vows with faded lead etched on it from all those years ago, reminding him why he chose Thea.

And that was it. 

It’s been 4,320 seconds, 180 days, 26 weeks, six months since you last seen Roman.

Until now.

Now, as you sit atop a high stool at Naomi’s outdoor bar and lock eyes with him the second you toss your head over your shoulder— curious as to the influx of commotion at the backyard gate during her and Jimmy’s 4th of July cookout. You wish you didn’t feel it. The peace that you’ve made with the heat that blooms in your ribcage but spreads like wildfire. Your eyes dart to Naomi and she looks just as lost as you are when she inconspicuously slides her phone out her backpocket.

mimi ♡: He told us he wasn’t gonna be able to make it. I have no idea what’s going on. I’m so sorry 

mimi ♡: U know I would’ve told u he was coming if I knew                                             

2:21 PM.

You grip the spine of your mimosa a little tighter than you were two minutes ago,the sizzle of smoke, indistinct rowdy chatter, laughing children, and throwback jams wafting from the stereo of a hefty speaker overstimulating your senses now that you were far more distressed than you were two minutes ago. 

There’s a lot of pressure on you right now. You’re in an uncomfortable situation, not only because you’re in the same vicinity as the man who is the direct source of every single issue you’ve faced in your professional career, but you’re on his turf. This is his family. You’re the outsider. 

Unbeknownst to you, standing beside his brother at the grill, Jey is watching this all play out with the eye of an eagle. He watches Roman unlatch the backyard gate with one hand and carry a shiny package of TNT explosives under the other arm, Thea trailing in behind him as symphonies of greetings expel from family members scattered around the yard. He catches the silent interaction between you and his sister-in-law and sighs under his breath.

“Man, hold this, uce.” 

He passes his seasoned pair of tongs to Jimmy and unties the knot of his apron behind his back as he makes his way to the backyard bar. An arched football slices through the blue sky when he slips the apron off and tosses it over his shoulder, sliding behind the bar before you see him.

“Uh-uh, where you goin?” he interrupts you before you can slide off the stool.

“Um, to the restroom?”

He smacks his teeth, “with your purse?”

You look down to the bag clasped in your hand before sighing, sitting back on the stool and placing your purse onto the bartop.

He grabs your mimosa by the spine and tugs some liquor from beneath the bar before pouring it into the mimosa. You laugh, so he laughs.

“I can’t stay, Jey.”

“Ion know whatchu talkin bout.”

“Yes you do. That’s why you’re over here, right?”

He looks up at you from his concoction and then closes the cap on the liquor, returning it back to it’s place.

“I’m over here cause you look like a wallflower at my brothers get-together. And if there are any wallflowers, that means the kickback lame,” he looks away from you, “Aye Jimmy! Is this kickback lame?!” he yells out for his brother and you scramble to slap him on his chest to get him to lower his voice as to not any draw attention.

“Hell naw! Who said that?”

Jey shrugs, tossing a finger at you.

You hear grass crunching under shoes from behind you and suddenly Jimmy is sitting to the left of you but you can’t peel your eyes off of Jey, your hand incredulously cupping your mouth at his outburst.

“Say it ain’t so.” Jimmy states, looking between you and Jey.

Shaking your head, you explain to him what you were telling his brother. The conversation shifts gears when Naomi joins and persuades the group into playing a round of uno over at the outdoor sofa. One round crossfaded into three which crossfaded into numerous other card and board games until the sun set. 

When you find yourself growing restless, you separate from the group with a stack of dirty dishes in your palms and stroll into the empty house to discard of the dishes. 

As the faucet’s stream polishes the ceramics in your hand as you hold it under the water, you feel it.

Eyes.

It instills a deep sense of paranoia within you. Your eyes have scanned the expanse three separate times, lazily and then slowly and then very meticulously in hopes of pinpointing the source. You sweep the hazy vicinity once more but this time you lock eyes with the source.

You expel a tight sigh past your lips. You don’t even have to turn around. You know he’s there.

Something softly thuds against the kitchen island and you turn your head to see your wallet placed there before his herculean frame— almost a silhouette due to the luminated backdrop of the tangerine sunset past his build, in the backyard. You soundlessly return to softly scrubbing the plate clean.

A minute passes.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move either.

“Jimmy and Naomi put alot of effort into putting this together.”

“So.”

“So don’t make me fuck it up for them, Roman,” you tuck a loose strand behind your ear, “don’t make me fuck it up.”

With his bottom lip bitten between his teeth in ponder, he takes a second to digest the sentiment. He’s never really taken you for a brazen daredevil at the mouth with the singular exception of the moments following the time he unintentionally caused significant damage to your ankle and became the catalyst of the first and only blip on your professional tracksheet thus far. Even then, that independent situation unfurled after months and months and months of subtle transgressions— equivalent to having a long, less than ideal day and bursting into tears only after you arrive home and your belt loop gets latched on a door handle.

It seems to be a pattern with you two.

The ebb-and-flow. The long periods of piling tension rolled into motion due to his inability to communicate and behave with you the way he truly desires and then manifesting in frustration but delivered to your front door in the final form of misdirected ignorance. 

It never fails.

That usual sensual liveliness about you that piqued his interest during that fateful NXT interview almost two years ago has been stunted. He knows it. Everyone knows it. Now, you’re self-aware enough to recognize that falling out with the thickest pillar supporting the operations of a male dominated, billion dollar business was a major oversight on your behalf which has almost boxed you into the placement of a social outcast. The slippery politics sucking you dry and leaving you for a pile of bones. 

There’s a varnish of guilt that lines his features, perhaps due to the hazelnut sadness in your eyes. He’s heard indistinct whispers through the grapevine for a while during his attempts to keep his distance that can be traced via a paper trail back to your coworkers and peers, ridiculous enough that he refuses to breathe life into them, but it’s hard to refuse when you’re standing before him. As breathtaking as you’ve always been, yet absolutely depleted, “Isabel…” 

And perhaps it’s what propelled him into swiping your wallet from your table after ensuring his wife was deeply engrossed in conversation with a family member, crushing Jey’s attempt of a heroic intervention beneath the sole of his shoe like he was a slimy cockroach with a low and stern Shut Up when he saw Roman take your belonings and roam into the house behind you.

Your hand, fatigued from holding the grudge, drops the ceramic plates with a reverbrating clank into the sink. You rush past the kitchen and through the halls with every intent of preserving yourself from digging yourself into a deeper hole, disoriented when your elbow is gripped and tugged into an empty bedroom and bookended with the silky click of a lock.

The speed in which you tug your arm away from his possessive grasp startles you both once in the solitude of the empty sanctuary, but him more so than you. An unsuccessful organ transplant where the body deems the foreign entity as a threat rather than an antidote— you have emotionally marinated in your resentment towards him for so long that your body’s natural response to his touch is immediete rejection, “don’t touch me.”

Gathering the courage to apply your body weight on your other foot as you stand, you immediately scurry to your feet, inhaling a tight gust of air and squeezing your eyes shut.

His eyes spring around your features in multiple, quick successions, “what the fuck do you want from me? Huh!”

Peace. Uproar. Honesty. Transparency. 

Despite your own desire for a dose of his honesty, you’re hypocritically far too polished and noble to admit what it is you truly itch for from him. Too honorable and righteous to peel the rug back inch by glorious inch and reveal the tight-lipped accumulation of pink dirt you’ve swept beneath the surface for a very long time in the name of a carrying a clear conscious and straying away from ruffling any feathers. And, he simply does not deserve that from you. He doesn't deserve your secrets. He doesn't deserve your vulnerability. He doesn't deserve a fleeting glance at the cards tucked in your hands. So you keep them close to your chest, “I want absolutely nothing from you. I want nothing to do with you.” Snapshots flit through your mind at unruly speeds: your conversation with Paul, the faint bone-chilling sensation of fire running up your ankle, eating lunch in isolation in your dressing room as a rookie, the tight finger-snap of rejection pooling red-hot embarrassment in your stomach at the hotel, his suave and effortless manuevers and dodging your every feeble attempt at an apology. Weak and shaky, “you’re pathetic.”

A whistling wind rolls a tumbleweed across the sandy soil of a Nevada desert.

Despite his own desire for a dose of your honesty, he’s hypocritically far too dutiful to admit what it is he truly itches for to himself. Too obligated to promises he’s already made to indulge in the forbidden fruit that haunts him in his dreams and stirs him awake in the midst of stormy nights. His conscious torn into two, split evenly in the middle. Snapshots flit through his mind at unruly speeds: his heart nosediving into his stomach at the haunting sound of your scream piercing the air the night of your injury, his conversation with Paul, lingering glances despite your awareness, eyes pinned on you during your first night back at gorilla. But he’s too obligated to promises he’s already made. His jaw wired tightly shut in indignation, he stares at you in silence as tension rolls off the blades of his rigid shoulders.

You’re a hellcat on turbo with a dark tint and severed breaks when you get like this, “look at you. You know it too. You can never confront shit. Ever. All you do is run.” You pause and desperately rummage for something that will elicit a reaction from him even half as equivalent in intensity to the kinds that you’ve been grappling with, “like a bitch.”

And you get it.

His thumb and forefinger press into the plush flesh of your jaw with analytical precision and a tilting force just enough that you’re resorted to eyeing him down the slope of your nose before you even get the chance to blink. Your chest rises and falls in sharp cycles, your stomach tied in a tight knot as he furrows his brows while looking down at you, “oh yea? I’m a bitch?” 

“Yeah.”

“And what else? Tell me.” 

When it gets too intense, when his gaze starts to feel like he’s talking to you without saying a word, when it feels like you’ve known him forever and just met him all at once, when it feels like he’s a second away from unearthing your most depraved impulses, when you start to feel small at the foot of his scrutiny, you shove his hand off and watch the floor as he emits a low scoff beneath his breath.

His hunky frame inches away from yours, his arms across his chest, “gon ‘head. Tell me about myself since you know every-fucking-thing Isabel.”

In biology, the way in which we ensure immunization from foreign bacterias and virus’ is by taking it upon ourselves to insert those virus-causing organisms within us via vaccination with the intent of familiarizing our body enough to the organism to build the antibody to fight it— that way, the illness doesn't have a profound effect on our immune system should we ever contract the virus again, since we were proactive and already trained our body to combat it. In life, resistance to fear is built the same way. You have to be foreseeing enough to inject yourself with temporary toxins for the greater good despite it feeling like you’re nosediving into deep waters, swimming with blood-thirsty sharks as cinderblocks hang tied to your ankles, “no. I don’t know everything, but I do know one thing.” Your eyes latch with his like a lock and key, your voice small as a mouse, “I know you feel it too.”

All the air in the room has been sucked out. 

You’re in the middle of the ocean, one blood-thirsty shark slowly circling you.

“It’s why you ripped me off of you like I was a venereal disease and almost shattered the foot I stand on. It’s why you haven’t been able to look me in the eye for the past six months, right?” You have to know. You have to. Because whether he knows it or not, the career you’ve sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears for hangs on the line tied by a thin thread. And apart from that, you don’t care about what else really hangs in the balance in the moment: not his wife, not his self perception, not even yours. If you know the why, then you’ll know just how to manuever this dillema so your career is in safe hands. 

His chest puffs out once, a chuckle barren of humor entirely spills from his nostril— eyes ablaze. Deciding against dignifying you with a response, he turns and walks to the door.

“It’s why you put in a good word for me, isn’t it?”

Has a really good eye for talent. I mean Roman was the one who put Isabel on Paul’s radar when she was still over at NXT, after all. 

Stillwater. 

His back prevents the sight of his eyelids rolling shut as his fingers mold around the door handle. 

His unresponsiveness feeds the fire of your spiel, “I’ll violate my contractual obligations. I’ll go elsewhere. Tell me I’m making this all up and it’s a coincidence. Tell me I just keep on stepping on your toes and that’s where it starts and ends. I’ll make all of our lives easier. Because I don’t want this. I don’t want my position in this organization to be dependent on the state of my relationship with you. I deserve better than that, Roman. So call me crazy, or be honest to the both of us.”

If regret was a color, it would be the film of deep navy blue that envelops the morning just a couple footsteps before dawn. Nostalgic and self-depricating. Something like the faint billow of Bobby Womack’s If You Think You’re Lonely Now wafting in the air of The Bellagio’s bar in the same fashion the scent of funnel cake at an amusement park does. Regret is the condensed glass on ice in his palm, melting on borrowed time. 

Perhaps the worst part of regret is the alternative, the masochistic relish in marinating in another universe in which your decision is slightly or entirely different than the one you landed on, resulting in a completely different outcome. Is the grass greener on the other side? Or is it green where you water it? Was the grass doomed from the start, sprouting from contaminated soil with infected toxins?

Perhaps the grass is green under you and there is no contingency.

It’s nomansland. It’s quicksand except every single grain of sand is an alternate outcome, engulfing his lungs as the ground swallows him whole, belching, and spitting out nothing but his bones.

A thin tube of brown velvet lies nestled between your index finger and thumb, tracing the lining of your razor sharp cupid bow with your eyes glues to the compact mini mirror the size of your palm in the back of the black escalade. When the grandeur golden marquee of your hotel approaches into view, you place the liner back into your clutch and exit the vehicle, tossing a curt Thank You to the chauffeur.

Pure kismet, he spots you instantly. 

Pure kismet, you spot him instantly.

It isn’t discernible to neither of you when his knee begins to bounce beneathe the guise of the hovering counter as you begin to approach, his head hung low as if there were something suddenly very interesting on the napkin under the foot of his whiskey. 

The last conversation you two had two months ago marked the beginning of something else entirely for you. The response you were fishing for that night returned an empty hook, but there was something final in its essence. After all, there’s only so much water you can fit under the bridge before it overflows. As luck would have it, or just the natural cycle of good karma, you were offered a contract at AEW with benefits that chucked your current arrangement with WWE out of the frame, including complete creative control of your character and likeness. An iridescent, silky pearl discovered within the jaws of a grueling tough-as-shit clam, “you didn’t think I’d leave without saying goodbye, did you?”

His glass meets his lips, his body facing forward entirely, “I did, actually.”

You have a newfound sense of calm within you. The type of peace that only the knowledge of what’s to come can ensure. The type of peace that envelops you when you see the sun yawn over the sky after a very dark night. Trusting what you can’t exactly see. Blind faith, “I don’t like to leave things unsaid. You should know that about me.”

This draws him to you. He eyes you behind his drink. His hooded eyes take you in before the glass contacts the wooden counter with a clank. He rolls his lips into his mouth and looks away, “that’s not your color.”

“Excuse me?”

Silence. 

You raise your hand in the air and point to his drink when the bartender catches your eye, signaling one for yourself, “whatever that means.” You watch him mindlessly roll the band on his finger before peeping out again, “what’s my color then?”

The color you were in the first day he saw you, “cherry red.”

You glance down at the minimalistic black silk clinging onto the skin of your frame, dipping and divoting along with the natural curve and pivot of you. You shrug, thinking nothing of it, “my date liked it.”

How do you mourn the loss of something you never really had? How do you bury something that never even lived? Perhaps the reason why the thought of you out with someone else is lighting his skin on fire is because he’s silently aware of where the fingers of fault should be pointed at and there’s nothing he can do to negate it. But hurt men are impossible men, “well you’re here with me so I take it he was a dud.” 

The sound you emit is half a laugh and half a scoff. You thank the bartender with a curt nod and nurse the glass with your palm, “You’re unbelievable. Has anyone ever told you that?” he mindlessly shrugs, “anyways. i just wanted to stop by and… clear the air before I left. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but last night was my last ni—”

“—I was introduced to wrestling when I was in the Airforce.”

When the inital slight surprise of the unexpected revelation wears off, a phantom thumbnail of a polished silver dogtag swinging on the neck of Roman’s olive green fitted tee— tucked underneath camo cargos comes alive in your minds eye. A location somewhere confidential. Somewhere top secret, but sandy and hot, his skin tanned and freckles indulgent. His hair unkempt and glossy with sweat as his upper body folds in situps when in the privacy of isolation. 

He runs his fingers through his rough beard, still faced forward, “whenever any one of us had a bone to pick with one another over there, we’d handle it like men; with our fists. Cut our losses if we were defeated. First blood would end the fight. But it started getting messy. Rules were getting bent. Our men were getting hurt.” He takes a sip, “one time one of the boys stole one of the airmen’s breadrolls at lunch. The concussion put him on his back for a month. Our sergeant held our feet to the fire.”

You fill in the blank, “so they started wrestling instead.”

He lips purse in acknowledgement once.

The Airforce was the perfect solution to the troubled adolescent. There tends to be a haunting trail of overcompensation that’s left in the aftermath of trauma. Ghosts that whisper indistinctly in your ear, of which only your insecurities and weaknesses and fears are audible— telling you that you’re weak and that you won’t ever amount to shit and that you should just quit while you’re ahead. Or maybe not. Maybe that just applies to him, “there was something about the opportunity to discipline myself that drew me to enlisting. My pops was a piece of shit. No way around it. Used to beat on my mom. Used to belittle me, taunted me when I tried to help her.”

Roman tries to lower and sit on his haunches, looking immensely out of his element as this is the most concerned he’s ever been about you since meeting you, “hold o-,”

Perhaps the fuel to build his body came from the fire of helplessness that afflicted him as a doe-eyed child, hiccuping tears away as his father scoffed and laughed at his feeble attempt at intervention. Perhaps the opportunity to disipline himself was never that simple, but rather a way to become the man he’s always aspired to be; stronger, tougher, resilent. Because our past is never truly in the past. 

And if you listen close enough, it sounds like there’s something he’s telling you without telling you.

He chuckles, but it’s absent of any humor, “I’ve spent my entire life wanting to believe I was nothing like him, that I was better than him, but shit, maybe I’m my fathers son after all.” 

Half of a man, just like his father. Wandering eyes, just like his father. Except the circumstances are vastly different. Except the context is vastly different. Except he’d never dream of laying a hand on you with the intention of hurting you. Except his father never felt a damn thing for any of those women. Except nothing is the same at all.

“Why are you telling me this, Roman?”

So call me crazy, or be honest to the both of us.

“I don’t like to leave things unsaid. You should know that about me.”

The fact that he’s too little too late isn’t lost on him, the optimistic hurl of a basketball piercing through the air mere seconds after the game-ending buzzer. But the opposing team is already celebrating, bottles of champagne popped and confetti sprinkling from the sky. 

“I don’t think that’s true at all. I think you’re the most conflicted man I’ve ever known, but you’ve never wavered. You face adversity in whichever form life decides for it to manifest that day yet you’ve never compromised your values. Your father sounds like a wet sock and I’m sure he’d be devastated to hear that you’re nothing like him despite what your mind tells you, Top Gun.”

A subtle tight-lipped smile sparks to life, warmth radiating in the ribcage of his chest.

And suddenly there is a lightness that settles between the two of you that can only be compared to the calm after the storm. The gradual sway of the trees to a slow halt after a particularly devastating hurricane, when the winds slack and the dark clouds part to make room for the sun. Because there are no more questions to ask, and you aren’t in the dark anymore. 

The two of you spend the night immersed in the longest conversation you’ve ever shared under the soft lighting of The Belliago’s bar in the name of a bid farewell. He tells you tales about his time in the force that make you laugh and you fill him in on things he missed in the six month time span during the fallout. The bartender brings you two a bowl of macadamia nuts that he mindlessly shoves to the side because you’re allergic. He slyly mentions your dress again with the intent of you elaborating more on the man you just returned from a date with so he can dissect him and make him lesser of a man for his own pride but you don’t take the bait. You tell him how happy you are about the height this new endeavor is going to take your career. He can see the light in your eyes again. 

When you excuse yourself and wander off to the ladies room, he blows a gust of air that’s been repressed in the deepest pit of his lungs all night and rubs his hand down his face. If regret was a color, it would be the forlorn warm lighting of a hotel bar somewhere in Nevada. Melancholic and self-loathing. Something like the faint billow of The Temptation’s My Girl wafting in the air of The Bellagio’s bar in the same fashion the scent of chlorine at a pool on a summer day does. Regret is the condensed glass on ice in his palm, melted. 

And it dawns on him that you don’t plan on returning when he finally notices you took your clutch to the ladies room with you.

He watches in slow motion with baited breath as you exit the bathroom, toss him one last glance over your shoulder, and leave the bar for the lobby. Quicksand. The empty archway carved into the bar’s wall instead of doors facilitate the view of you entering the elavators when the stainless steel doors slide open. Quicksand. His eyes glued on you, he tosses a wad of cash onto the counter as his feet move on their own accord. Quicksand. All the air is sucked out of your lungs when you see him approaching with the prowess of a black panther with every intention of pouncing. Quicksand. His body barely slides inbetween the constricting steel plates before his mouth is latching onto yours so intensly that even a pack of hungry wolves couldn't rip him off. His palm wrapped around your throat, your back collides into the corner of the elevator as your fingers grasp onto his tee for dear life. A deep rumbling of I fucked up I fucked up tumbling past teeth, moaning lips, and writhing bodies. 

sorry for the wait. school been turning me every way but loose i fear. but cimtfyk is back andddd it’s about to get uglier than vince mcmahon. thank u for reading <3

tags : @cyberdejos2 @annfg8 @looneyloser0 @joannasteez

[everythingelseisextra]

Sometime Around Midnight

Request: No Description: After separating, Tommy sees you at a banquet. Warnings: Mention of alcohol Word Count: 1203 Author's Note: If you knew my old account, you've read a fic of the same plot. But! I rewrote it. This time it's different. This time it's better. Tag List: @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

It starts sometime around midnight. 

At least, that’s when he starts to lose himself to the haze of the wine and the swell of the music and the bustle of bodies in the banquet hall. Events like this roll through his life, filled with interactions that mean nothing and the act of faking it til he makes it, always faking it, never truly being there as himself. The band plays some old song about forgetting yourself, and he sighs, looking down at the empty wine glass in his hand. His brothers are off somewhere, their own stories developing while his stays still. 

The doors open. You walk in, looking over the crowd, searching. His breath catches in his throat, he watches you shamelessly, and the memories rush back. Your bodies curled together like two perfect circles entwined, quiet laughter in the weak morning light, going arm in arm to events like this, knowing each other deeply, unconditionally. Looking at you too long brings a broken sense of abandonment to him, because you were supposed to stick together, a bonded pair, and he broke that. He shoved you away, denying your pleas, and he watched you leave. But, the first time you met, some part of him latched onto you and hasn’t let go, not then, not now, not ever.

Your eyes land on him, and he swears he sees you smile. You murmur something to the man on your arm and detach from him, walking over to Tommy with a faint fluttering of your heart. Only he makes you feel like that, with excitement mixed with familiarity mixed with admiration. Only him have you allowed to get so close to you, that you feel something so strong at such little prompting. Only him. 

You walk up and ask how he is. Your words are short, but gentle. You’re in charge of this conversation, not him, and you decide when it begins and ends. He knows it. He looks at you with those suddenly soft blue eyes and his next words hold everything in them, and you swear you see the world turn in his eyes.

I’m getting along. He inclines his head. And you. How are you?

You shrug and glance back at the man you came with, who watches you speak with the powerful and ruthless social climber you used to love, you still love. You remind yourself that he doesn’t want you anymore, that this softness and earnestness you see belongs to someone else, that he’s a talented actor and liar. And he waits for your answer as you look back, patiently engaged with every little shift of your body. 

I’m okay. You repeat his words back at him. Getting along.

Good. He says, a weak smile gracing his lips. Your heart sinks a little, though you’re not sure what you were hoping for, other than the fact that the sadness in his expression is not it. That’s good.

It was good seeing you. You have to escape, the breath in your lungs becomes too powerful, the part of you that wants him too strong. You came with another man, you can’t stay with him, you can’t go back. 

Yes. He nods, briefly looking down at his feet. It was good.

Heart in your throat, you return to your tether. He watches you go, lost, and suddenly the bar lights are too bright and the piano playing a bit too melancholic, and that white dress you’re wearing is a little too much like a wedding dress, and he’s losing you. He sees you go back to a man that isn’t him and he can’t stand it. The room spins and he can smell your perfume still lingering around him, like the ghost of a relationship he wants so badly but took away from himself. 

Arthur walks up to him, brow furrowed, mouth slightly open. What ‘appened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

He shakes his head. I did. 

It takes time. It takes him standing there watching you, laughing with the man on your arm, holding your gin and tonic like a crux to your chest, turning and swirling that white dress of yours. It takes him watching you stand on your toes to kiss the man, smiling as your lips meet. But, in the end, when he watches you leave with someone he doesn’t know is good, he decides to stop being afraid of his own life. He decides that, instead of draining the muddy pond of emotion that grows stagnant in him, he will free the water, let it rush, let it fall, let it run the way it was meant to. 

You walk out the door and his blood is boiling, his stomach is in ropes. He takes one step, then another, and the wine in him makes the world fall around him. He steadies himself and makes for the door, and, though he doesn’t notice, eyes follow him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what he looks like, doesn’t care how pathetic it may seem, doesn’t care if he never sees you again. He cannot leave you as a ghost in his life. He cannot let your memory die with the only reminder being a brief conversation at some banquet. 

Everyone says to let ghosts go, let them fly, let them return to the earth, but he refuses. He will make his ghosts into stone. He wants them to stay. He wants you to stay. 

He walks quickly under the streetlights, coursing through the spots of light and darkness, following after the paired silhouettes in front of him. Hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning forward slightly, walking with the intent of a predator but with the heart of a lover. 

He catches you, slightly breathless. Wait. Listen to me.

You pause and turn. Your partner tries to keep going, but your heart has jumped at the sound of his voice, and you can’t ignore him. You could never ignore him. 

I’m not a good man. Never have been. I don’t know what the future will hold. The only thing I know, the only thing I know, is that I love you. Without you, I’m hopeless. You know it. I know it. Please, love, give me another chance. He almost gasps the words, so desperate to get his message across. I’m sorry I sent you away.

You’re stuck, because he always knew you were a bleeding heart, always knew that earnestness would win you over. When you look at him, you don’t see manipulation. You don’t see the spark that always told you he had a plan. No, this is a drunken show of emotion, so anguished that he cannot hold it back. He just has to see you. He just has to take you home. 

Please. I made a mistake. I don’t want to be without you.

You step towards him, then hesitate. The man behind you is kind. He’s gentle. He’s harmless. There’s no risk to him. There’s no chance of harm, or terror, or pain. He doesn’t excite you, doesn’t charm you into admiration, but he makes you feel safe. 

I’ll be good. I can make that promise now. Please. Give me another chance.

[hyunjin-amore]

Bokuto x Top male reader

Part two to this

🩶 The following morning, Bokuto Koutarou awoke with a satisfied smile on his face, his thoughts continuing to replay the passionate evening he had spent with the self-assured and forceful M/N. He was filled with a fresh desire as a result of the vivid memories of their close bond and the explosive pleasure they had shared.

🩶 Bokuto found himself unable to let go of M/N as the days passed. He was now hungry for more of the heat and desire they had enjoyed after their rendezvous. Thoughts of the M/N's controlling touch, their self-assured manner, and the way they had brought him to life continued to consume him.

🩶 On the volleyball field, Bokuto's contagious enthusiasm appeared to have doubled, and when he applied his newfound drive to his play, his spikes gained even more strength. It was impossible for his teammates to miss the shift in him; the memories of that incredible night continued to drive his resolve and focus.

🩶 Bokuto chose to contact M/N because he could no longer contain his curiosity. In order to go deeper into their relationship and find out what more they could offer, he felt compelled to see them again. He was both excited and anxious as he sent the message, hoping for a favorable answer.

🩶 Weeks passed, and Bokuto's excitement increased. When at last a message from M/N showed up on his screen, his heart gave a little flutter. Bokuto couldn't contain his enthusiasm as he traveled to the agreed-upon place after they decided to meet again.

🩶 Bokuto felt that familiar rush of thrill and need as their eyes locked again. But this time, there was more; there was a stronger bond and understanding between them. As they got to know one another better, they found that they had common interests, goals, and objectives, which strengthened their relationship that had begun that fateful night.

🩶 Their interactions went beyond the purely physical; they exchanged dreams, giggles, and vulnerable moments. Bokuto discovered that his feelings for M/N went beyond the intense evenings they shared. They developed a close bond and became each other's confidants, helping each other through life's highs and lows.

🩶 Bokuto came to the realization that M/N had sparked a fire within him as well as a sense of personal development and self-discovery. Although their love was sincere and passionate, it was also based on mutual respect, understanding, and trust.

🩶 They set out on a romantic, passionate, and introspective journey together, accepting and appreciating each other's shortcomings as well as their talents. Bokuto's contagious enthusiasm for volleyball persisted on the court, driven by his love for the sport as well as his newfound love for M/N.

🩶 As their love story progressed, Bokuto and M/N faced challenges; nonetheless, their bond persevered in the face of these obstacles. Together, they surmounted life's challenges and discovered solace and encouragement in one other's arms.

🩶 Bokuto was widely recognized for his infectious energy and passion for volleyball, but all of a sudden, he was feeling something more: a love that consumed him, fueled his devotion, and provided him with a level of satisfaction he had never known. And when he thought back on that fateful night, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the magnetic pull that had brought him and M/N together and irrevocably changed their lives.

[penheadie]

Can we get some Monix headcanons? 👉👈

Oh boy where to start it's kinda embarrassing. I am so glad you asked. I have an entire storyline planned out about them (me and my friend project our ocs onto them all the time. I love the babies.)

They are sadly a doomed from the start couple

In the beginning it was definitely a one-sided love at first sight sort of deal. Mono had a pretty intense puppy love crush on Six from the get-go meanwhile Six at the start did not like him whatsoever and was more focused on surviving begrudgingly becoming his survival partner when she wasn't in the mood to get close to anyone again.

They're kinda both mentally fucked up in the head. Mono has abandonment issues and Six has survivors guilt developed from not being able to save Rain and believing she was the cause of it. They both have their own issues that they need to work out but they try to help each other through their differences.

The first time Mono had caught Six displaying more childlike innocent behavior was when he followed her out to the shoreline where he had witnessed her knack and talent for being smart and crafty, taking broken things and fixing them. He learned about her affiliation towards music boxes when he witnessed her dancing with the ballerina attached to the music box after she had just fixed it in her natural element. Something about seeing her like that made his heart flutter. (Think about that music box scene from the first Tinkerbell movie but with Six)

OKAY! OKAY! WARNING THIS IS MY FAVORITE ONE BECAUSE OF HOW CUTE IT IS GAHHHH! The first time Six tries to sneak a peek at Mono's face while he is asleep is unsuccessful. The first time Six asks Mono about why he hides his face he goes on to explain that the reason he hides his face is because that the entire world sees him as a monster. Without taking it off his head she slips her hand underneath the paper bag to try and feel around for his facial features. After coming to the conclusion that he is normal she squishes his cheek and she responds with “it doesn't feel like a monster here” the one time where Six actually does something cute and wholesome. Either that or the reason how she knows he's not a monster is because monsters don't have hearts, and she can feel his beating in his chest perfectly.

Whenever Mono is feeling insecure or ashamed about his face Six will proceed to drown him in a sea of little pecks and kisses until any lingering doubts about his face are gone. 

Six hunts for Mono and Mono cooks for Six. One time she brought him home a rat with the head decapitated from its body. Because of this he tries to introduce her to cooked foods and how much better they taste compared to raw food, since the only thing she seems to ever be capable of digesting is raw food. So he tries to get her to eat healthy. Six does not hog all of the food; she makes sure Mono can eat plenty too. 

Six gets inspired by Mono so she really wants to try to do good although her attempts are a little misguided. Six sucks really bad at being a good person but she's trying. 

Six is a biter. She chews her fingers and bites her knuckles as a nervous habit or when she is self-harming herself. Whenever Six is like that Mono will instead offer her his own hand, as he'd rather have her take out all of that pain and anguish she is feeling onto him rather than herself. Nobody said it was healthy. 

Mono loves hearing stories about when she was a baby from her older brother RK (or either her adoptive father Roger only the og's will understand this) since he was abandoned at birth he never really got the opportunity to experience what a family really is about and have people in your life who care for you.

Mono has already planned ahead, as he has big plans for the future that involves them getting married and having several children together living happily ever after (He doesn't know where babies come from) Six can sometimes feel a little overwhelmed with his expectations and sometimes feels like he didn't keep her thoughts in mind, asking her what she wanted first and was wondering if she got a say in this. Because as his “future wife” don't you think she should also get a say about whether or not they're going to have future children? Mono's dream of having many kids is meanwhile a nightmare for Six on the contrast. But don't worry when they get older and become adults they compromise about what the other wants.

For as much as Mono and Six love each other and have feelings for each other they struggle with communication as it isn't exactly as healthy as RK and Rain's relationship. They are both just shy and awkward little babies that don't know how to communicate their feelings of what the other wants. Which is one of the things that got them into trouble more times than once was the little miscommunication. Both of them had to keep secrets to keep the other safe in their eyes.

Six snuggles and is such a cuddle bug in her sleep! She cannot sleep without having Mono by her side or something to snuggle up against. It's just not the same without it. She is so tiny when she snuggles up against the lanky boy.

Mono and Six have nightmares on a regular basis as they were pretty common occurrences, Mono having nightmares about future events before they happen about Six abandoning him and Six having nightmares about all of her dead friends haunting her in her dreams and already pre-existing trauma. Whenever the other has nightmares there will be a long process with many stages in which the other will do nothing but hold them close, consoling them and offering them comforting words until they are reassured that there is nobody else here but them in their arms and that they are not at that terrible awful place. 

Six is asexual and Mono is bisexual. And they both willingly accept each other for who they are, as Mono wouldn't care if Six was a boy, or a girl, or a worm he will accept her for whatever she is.  

Now this is self-indulgent but tickle fights are a must between them. Sometimes if the Six is a little down in the dumps Mono will tickle her to try and lighten the mood. It's one of the few ways they can unwind together and have a chance to act like kids again. But Mono better expect Six to get him with some payback.  

Six had faith in Mono, as he used to tell her stories about how he was going to fix the world and bring it back to the way it was before the corruption took over; they were both going to fix the world together. That was the first time Mono ever made Six feel a sense of hope, and to find out that he is the source of the corruption later she sees that as even more of a betrayal and thinks that he lied to her, that is one of the reasons that makes the betrayal all that much more heartbreaking. 

Six realizes she has feelings for Mono around the time that he saves her from the collapsing building seconds right before the Thin Man kidnaps her.

Six is the one to initiate the first kiss. When Six gave him the first kiss she definitely did that thing where she lifted her leg because she is a little too short to be able to kiss Mono without standing on the tips of her toes in order to reach him. It took Mono a full thirty seconds to process what just happened, before quickly soon after Six was trying to resuscitate his useless butt with the defibrillator after she caused him to have a literal heart attack and die on the spot. Instant K.O. 

Just two little kids against the world with nothing more pure and sweet than innocent puppy love.