#that he shows up when you least expect him

[gloomwitchwrites]

Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

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[meinii]

“mine.”

summary: Caleb can be mean, especially when he gets jealous

content: SMUT (18+), possessiveness, jealousy, underwear gets ripped,teasing, begging, he cums inside, breeding

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

you went out partying with your friends, it was supposed to be a calm girls night

or at least that’s what you had told Caleb.

he also had a night out with his friends, little did you know– you would’ve ended up in the same club.

you were sipping your drink, dancing with some stranger and just enjoying your night

unaware to you, someone on the other side of the room was not enjoying his night at all.

his eyes glued on you, the sway of your hips, the way your lips hugged the straw from your drink and, of course, the guy who kept trying to touch you.

he was fuming, thoughts running in his head, he wanted to punch that loser who got the honor to dance with you, he wanted to pull you away and remind you that you’re his, and only his.

suddently you felt a warm body touching your back, his hands clinging around your hips and pushing you towards him as you looked over– Caleb was here.

he was staring at the guy with a killer stare, the guy getting the signal just leaves you two alone, he doesn’t really need that trouble

“calm girls night uh?” he whispered in your ear

you swallowed hard, your body tensing as Caleb’s grip on your hips tightened. the heat of his breath tickled your skin, sending shivers down your spine. his voice was low, controlled—but you could hear the underlying edge of irritation.

you turned around slowly, forcing a small, guilty smile. “it was supposed to be,” you murmured, placing a hand on his chest as if that would calm him.

Caleb let out a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching as his eyes flickered down to your barely-there dress, then back up to your lips

“didn’t look that way from where I was standing” his fingers traced small circles on your hip, but the possessive grip never eased.

you glanced over at his group of friends, who were watching with amused smirks, clearly enjoying the show. your own friends were nowhere to be found, leaving you completely at his mercy.

“are you mad?” you asked, tilting your head, knowing damn well he was.

his eyes darkened, and he leaned in until his lips nearly brushed your ear.

“you tell me,” he murmured “do I look like a man who enjoys watching his girl dance with another guy?”

your breath hitched. Caleb was intense—he always had been. but something about seeing him like this, raw with jealousy, sent thrill through you.

before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand and started leading you through the crowd. “where are we going?” you asked, your heart racing.

he didn’t stop, didn’t even look back as he replied, “somewhere I don’t have to watch other guys put their hands on what’s mine.”

he led you to his car, still opening the passanger seat door for you– he’s angry not a brute

the tension in the car was suffocating, thick with unspoken words and Caleb's frustration. his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched as his eyes stayed fixed on the road. the muscles in his forearms flexed with every sharp turn, his grip tightening each time he replayed the scene from the club in his head.

you shifted in your seat, your skin still warm from the way his hands had claimed you on the dance floor. he was pissed —but you could tell it wasn't just anger. it was something deeper, something primal. he hated feeling like he had to compete for you. hated the idea of someone else touching what was his.

"Caleb," you finally spoke, your voice softer than you expected.

his fingers twitched against the wheel, but he didn't respond.

you reached out, resting your hand on his thigh. that got a reaction. his jaw ticked, his grip on the wheel tightening as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

"you're mad," you said, as if it wasn't obvious.

he let out a low, humorless chuckle. "mad doesn't even begin to cover it."

you bit your lip, suppressing the smirk that threatened to form. you should probably feel guilty, but a part of you-the reckless, teasing part-liked seeing him like this.

possessive. needing to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

the car pulled up to his house, and before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, Caleb was already out, slamming the driver's side door shut. he walked around to your side, yanking the passenger door open, and suddenly he was leaning in, his face inches trom yours.

"out," he ordered, voice low and firm.

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, stepping out of the car as he shut the door behind you. the moment you turned to face him, his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"you think this is funny?" he muttered, his voice dripping with frustration, his eyes searching yours.

you swallowed hard, the heat of his body against yours sending a thrill through you. you knew you shouldn't push him, but something about seeing him this possessive and jealous was making it difficult to resist.

"I..." you began, but your words trailed off as you felt the heat of his breath against your neck. his lips brushed against your skin, a featherlight caress that sent shivers down your spine.

Caleb's grip on your waist tightened as he leaned in even closer, his mouth moving to the sensitive spot just below your ear. he nipped softly at the skin, and you let out a small gasp, unable to resist the wave of desire coursing through you.

Caleb pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intent and heated. "inside" he commanded, his voice a low rumble

without another word, he took your hand and led you to the house, his grip firm and possessive.

as you walked into the house, you felt the heavy weight of Caleb's presence behind you. every step you took seemed to ignite the tension between you.

once inside, Caleb closed and locked the door behind you, his eyes raking over your body

you could feel the intensity of his gaze, the way it traced every curve of your body, as if he was memorizing every inch of you

Caleb crossed the distance between you in two strides, his hands cupping your face as he claimed your lips in a scorching kiss

his mouth was hot and demanding, his tongue tangling with yours as he backed you up against the wall.

he broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, "mine." before his mouth was on yours again

he walked you backwards towards his bedroom, his body pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your skin.

It was like he was trying to erase any trace of that other guy who had touched you, replacing it with his own claim

Caleb pushed you onto the bed, his body looming over yours as he followed you down. he kissed you like a man starved, his tongue and teeth leaving no inch of your skin unexplored

he pulled back slightly, his hands glided down your sides, skimming over the fabric of your dress, teasing the skin beneath.

he leaned in, his lips tracing a path along your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh

“you look so damn good in this dress,” he murmured, “I should’ve been the one dancing with you tonight”

his fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, slowly inching it higher, revealing more of your thighs

“but you weren’t thinking about me, were you?” he asked, his lips hovering close to your ear

"I was just having fun" you muttered, your voice breathless as his fingers traced patterns along your inner thigh, so close and yet so far from where you wanted him

Caleb let out a mocking chuckle, his mouth descending to your neck, his lips hot and firm against your skin

"is that so?" he murmured, his hand moving higher, his touch teasing and maddening.

he suddenly withdrew, his eyes dark with determination.

“now,” he said, “I’ll be the one having fun.”

with a swift, fluid motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hands pinning your wrists to the bed

without any warning, his hands moved to the hem of your panties, and with a swift, determined motion, he tore the fabric apart. the sound of it ripping echoed in the room, and the feel of it sent a shiver down your spine

he put his tip near your entrance, teasing you

a moan came out of you “please–“

“say it,” he started playing with your clit “say that you’re mine”

that’s all he wanted, you’re his and everyone needs to know it

“I’m yours” your breath unsteady “I’m yours Caleb, please”

a satisfied smirk was plastered on his face as he finally buried himself inside you, he was giving it to you so hard you couldn’t help but keep moaning his name as your eyes rolled back

“I’ll make sure everyone knows it” his voice low

“I’ll mark you for life” his pace becoming sloppier as you start pushing your hips back into him

“we’ll build the perfect family and everyone will know how easily you come undone under my touch”

so he came inside you, filling you up just like he always dreamed of ૮꒰ྀི > . < ꒱ྀིა

[vitch-with-v]

Hey remember this? I do, so here's the proof

TRIGGER WARNING: UGLY ASS DRAWINGS FROM WHEN I WAS A PRE-TEEN AND LORE DROP

These are some of the first appearances of Joaquín, my "male version". He got his name after what my mom was gonna name me if i was born a boy

I had made a chart explaining all the different characters that were divisions of myself (cuz there were a lot) and here is Joaquín, who was not only my male version but also my self-esteem

Worth noticing: no, i don't have split personality or any kind of similar conditions, i was just a weird kid and i thought it was cool to give names and faces to different sides of myself, i haven't done that ever since, most of them didn't even survive past 2019, expect for him

His "presence" grew stronger in the start of the quarantine, cuz i was bored and very lonely :(, so he was basically an imaginary friend, that's why i usually drew him just hanging out with me (longer hair, pre-trans lol)

This is ME when i decided to cut all my hair off, wich is when i started questioning my gender, at this point i thought i might be non binary, but Joa still lingered, cuz i mean he was a really important character for me yk?

↑Me and Joa after my haircut... Yeaaaaahh....

Here it says "im gonna change Joa's name" (it says "don't ask why" under it, not pictured). This is also when i went oh shIT I MIGHT BE A BOY- so u can imagine WHY i wanted to change his name, you know, the name i was gonna have if I WAS A BOY??? Yeah, that didn't work out anyways cuz i ended up naming myself after some emo guy from an australian tv show that changed my brain chemistry so :p

This was also the last time i drew or ever mentioned him, after this he basically fucking died and i forgot about him completely + i stopped drawing and journaling for like a year or so (consider that i used to do it almost every day)

I find it crazy looking through my old sketchbooks and seeing my actual self from today be depicted as a "character", this is literally how i draw myself TODAY (with a lot of improvement ok? This is from like 2020/2021)

And i almost forgot to mention, but i was a hardcore fujoshi in 2019 (wich really fucked me in the head cuz it's not good to be reading porn at such a young age but oh well-), and so i used to ship Joa with one of my best friends oc's and we'd joke that they were gay and jaja funny they're gay yk hehe jiji jaja yk?

Thanks to the quarantine i started interacting with ACTUAL queer content, made by ACTUAL queer people, depicting what it's ACTUALLY LIKE to be part of the lgbt+ community, and not the fetishization of gay men made by and for (mostly) straight women, wich also made me feel real bad cuz i was like "oh no I've been fetishizing gay men all this time! Im a straight woman, it's weird for me to like gay men so much!" And honey do i have news for you :).

But i was pleased to find im not the only one that went thru the "fujoshi straight/might be a lesbian girl to transgender gay man" pipeline, it's crazy how there is no original experience, ive seen a gazillion fuckers who went thru the same shit, wich is surprising cuz how the fuck u go from "might be a lesbian" to "im a gay man", but hey, at least im not alone :))

If you read all that, you either really wanna know me, you have too much free time, or u need help HSKSHAKA. But yeah, jst wanted to share my experience, bc i still think about it till this day, and i still think of him every now and then

I don't think im ever bringing him back, or maybe i will, who knows, but for now he has a home in the black box with all my old sketchbooks, and i hope he's comfy in there ;)

the song made me giggle a lil as a trans guy

[kashverse]

hihi another request, can you do one where babykuna is spending a day with her uncle choso? it could be anything really, go to a park or play salon or baking or painting or even play dress-up! i could see choso making a custom matching outfits and kunapapa is just jealous he doesn't have a matching outfit with his baby girl.

thank youuu <3

if there is one thing choso understands in his line of work as uncle "chocho" to babykuna, it’s that every single day is a grind. not just in the business sense—no, no, no. this is the real world, where survival depends on working hard and playing harder.

and by "playing harder," he means getting absolutely swindled at the mall by a six-year-old and her unhinged ideas.

in the span of 24 hours, babykuna and choso now have:

matching deftones t-shirts—except the album cover of ‘around the fur’ has been horrifically swapped out with a 0.5x picture of babykuna's face, making her look like a cryptid mid-screech.

matching temporary tattoos—$20 per spray-on tattoo, an absolute scam, but babykuna had sparkly eyes when she picked out the designs, so what was he supposed to do? say no? ridiculous.

freshly painted nails—babykuna’s nails were pink with tiny skull stickers; choso’s were black with glitter. because, in her words, “you need to be sparkly and scary, uncle chocho.”

choso had just accepted his fate, proudly wearing his t-shirt and admiring his nails, when they walked through the front door.

enter sukuna.

sukuna, who had one expectation when his brother babysat his kid: to not be personally attacked by what he sees when he gets home. instead, he’s greeted by his daughter parading her new drip and his brother-in-law looking like a deftones fan who got lost in the hello kitty section of a hot topic.

“what. the. fuck.”

babykuna threw her arms up. "PAPA! LOOK!" she twirled around, showing off her custom t-shirt with her own terrifyingly distorted face. “we MATCH!” sukuna’s eye twitched. "oh, do you? huh. isn't that nice. isn't that—ABSOLUTELY UNFAIR."

choso blinked. "uh."

sukuna gestured wildly at babykuna, then back at choso, then back at babykuna. "why do you match with ‘chocho’ but not me?!"

babykuna gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE RIGHT!” choso, sensing danger, took a defensive step back. “listen, man, she—”

"shut up, choso. shut the fuck up, choso." sukuna rubbed his temples, betrayed. "first, my own daughter—MY OWN DAUGHTER—matches with my dumbass brother before me, and now you’re telling me that i’m the only one without a stupid ass t-shirt?!"

babykuna, to her credit, looked genuinely apologetic. “papa… i can make you one too?” sukuna sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. "oh, now i get a t-shirt. now."

babykuna nodded earnestly. "yes! with an ugly picture of you, just like me!"

choso let out a quiet snort. big mistake.

sukuna turned to him immediately. “what the hell are you laughing at, you glittery dumbass?” choso, who now regretted his entire day at the mall, cleared his throat. “...nothing.”

sukuna exhaled through his nose, like an aggressive bull preparing to charge. "where’s baby? at least he wouldn’t betray me like this."

that was when baby the orange tabby casually walked by, decked out in a tiny version of babykuna and choso’s t-shirts, tail flicking behind him like a king among peasants. sukuna's soul left his body.

"YOU DRAGGED THE CAT INTO THIS?!"

[pricegouge]

the erotic pin up thought but imagine nikolai tattooing his favourite pic and surprising his lover with it :3

he's already been away for two weeks when you get a text from an unknown number. you don't need the contact to discern who it is, anyway. in istanbul. things are running long. don't expect me back so soon. you're not expecting a reply when you tell him not to worry, to just keep himself safe, but you're delighted when you get one anyway.

>>You too, milaya.

he messages you at least once a day, just to check in. you've never been able to contact him like this while he's been on mission before and you don't want to ruin it by being too needy but the temptation of your phone lays heavy in your pocket all week. you'd hate to interfere but he makes it hard when he keeps up a slow, steady means of communication. you wonder about the mission, don't dare ask. it seems unlikely that he'd let himself be so distracted if it were something high stakes, though. it's possible he's been relegated to glorified taxi while bigger pieces make their moves and you can't help but sympathize when you picture him waiting around, dining in the quaint kind of cafes he'd never really seemed to find an appreciation for - at least, not on his own. he was always happy enough to take you but it had always been very clear where his interest lied, dark eyes trained on you even as he ordered. observant, filing away each little reaction he could pull from you with savory dishes and select deserts. you flatter yourself, imagining his patience breaking, just a little more each day, just enough to text you, earlier and earlier each day until two weeks have come and gone and you've basically fallen into a constant rapport.

you ask for pictures of the city and he obliges, little peeks into the life he's living while away. yet more evidence this is some bizarrely political mission he doesn't really need to be present for. you note when he moves locales a few times but he tactfully avoids telling you his location again. he stops sending you pictures altogether when you start guessing correctly.

so you start sending him pictures instead. they start out innocent enough, testing the limits of what you're allowed to say on this line. he shows gives no intent to stop you when you show him the view from the summit of a local hike, nor even when you snap a picture outside a local restaurant, its logo left carelessly in frame. he only tells you to enjoy, doubles down when you send a selfie with your cheeks stuffed full of spanakopita.

you start to think he deserves a reward, being on the clock for nearly a month straight and still finding the time to check in with you.

his hangar is a sacred place, one you rarely enter without his accompaniment. too many expensive tools, machinery pulled apart with all its fragile bits exposed. you're always afraid to touch, afraid to break. nik had told you once that every item there was made of sterner stuff, that you couldn't hurt a swashplate if you climbed up on it. funny how you might be taking him up on the offer now.

(you wouldn't know really, the knowledge about what a swashplate even was having gone in one ear and right out the other. not your fault when he looked that good, jumpsuit folded down to reveal a sweaty, clingy tank top, wiry hair visible through the thin ribbed material.)

but you're getting ahead of yourself.

the tarp kicks up a mess when you pull it free, concrete dust having settled in nik's absence. it sends you into a sneezing fit and you curse, smudging your makeup as you try to wipe away the moisture collecting on your lash line. you decide to roll with it when you catch a glimpse of yourself in some nearby chrome, see the kind of effect it brings to your overall look.

your makeup is classic, a bright lip and exaggerated liner. even a painted on beauty mark to really knock it home. the outfit was harder to settle on, your every instinct telling you nik always appreciated when you looked your finest, all dolled up in expensive labels he'd bought for you. but ultimately you'd decided what was good for the goose was good for the gander, pilfering from his closet until you'd found what you were looking for, the exact same outfit which drove you mad.

nik's a big man, his jumpsuit made to reflect that. it drapes away from your waist when you let it hang but it's nothing that a clever safety pin corset can't fix, the top of the suit left to hang over it, hiding it away. long legs are easier to remedy, hems tucked into a pair of hiking boots you hadn't cared about in years, now painted to look the part with the same gear grease you'd smeared all over yourself, tasteful swipes meant to accentuate your soft curves, here on display under the dirty tank top you'd sworn you'd told him to get rid of, now tied tight around your waist to show off your chest. and now with your smudged makeup you think you've finally got it right, the look exactly what you'd been going for when you'd first got the notion in your head.

with the stage already set, the photoshoot goes easily enough. the poses are almost instinctual, the big wrench you wield almost natural in your hands as you lean provocatively over the engine block, tits to squished you doubt he'll ever even notice the size isn't right for the bolts in front of you. you try a couple of different styles, positions which are obviously designed with aesthetics in mind interspersed with more competent looking ones, even though it makes you feel ridiculous when you think of how obvious it will be to him that you don't know what you're doing.

you just have to remember how little he's going to mind it, all told.

editing isn't your strong suit. you're racked with doubt all the while, hyperfocused on every little flaw you spot. it gets easier when you remember the whole shoot is meant to be quite grimy and in the end you settle on a decent collection. you even remember to upload them to a file sharing site to avoid compression, sending him the link with a wink and a warning not to open in front of his comrades.

he calls you naughty immediately, but it's long hours before he can properly respond, a call that wakes you up in the middle of the night so he can pant and moan in your ear about how much he wants to bend you over that engine, peel his suit off of you and eat your cunt from the back. it's the first time you've heard his voice in weeks and the low rumble of it conspires with the slickness in your panties which never fully righted itself after your little photoshoot, the anticipation of his reaction keeping you primed for him. you come together before trading quiet reassurances. how much you miss each other, how you can't wait to see him again. he makes a vague promise to be home soon and you're still so sated that the twinge of loneliness feels like nothing really.

you think that's the end of it. that maybe he'll request more, at most. but then you wake up days later with a furnace at your back and a hairy arm draped over your side. it's still early, the sun not even up yet. you should let him sleep but you can't help rolling within the age of his arm and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. even in the low light you can see how haggard and hollow he looks, run ragged for too long. his beard is overgrown, the short stubble he usually keeps filling out into a decent beard.

really it's unfair how handsome he looks even now.

"go back to sleep."

you huff a laugh and press another kiss to him. lower now that you know he's awake. above his cupid's bow, your own lips drawn tight with your smile. "but it's morning."

"can't be," he counters, voice thick with exhaustion. "i only just fell asleep."

you hum, distracted as you trace the wrinkles of his forehead. was that one always there? was it new? "maybe it's not wherever you were," you concede. "where were you, by the way?"

"where wasn't i?" he sighs as he rolls away, a great puff of air that cuts through the easiness of the morning, reminds you of what exactly he's likely returned from. the culmination of the mission, even the easy one it seemed to be. he was rarely ever trotted out for emissary visits, after all.

but you don't want to think about all that so you follow him as he rolls, laying yourself across his chest to keep him grounded as you rub against his far shoulder. "well you're home now and my vote's for sleeping in."

his chest rumbles beneath you, a quiet laugh you can feel more so than you can hear. he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your fingers before setting it back down in favor of reaching much lower to pull you more properly onto him. your grip shifts from his shoulder to his bicep and you pause when you feel the edge of a bandage there, worry settling low in your belly as you trace the edges of it. "you're hurt?" you demand, but you don't give him a chance to respond before sitting up and leaning across him to turn the lamp on.

it takes you a moment to make sense of what you're looking at, the bandage you'd felt before nothing more than four haphazard lines of tape holding a square of black plastic against his skin. he laughs at your confusion, thumbing the furrow between your brows away as he also sits up, pulling you onto his lap as he reassures you he's not hurt.

"what's that then?" you ask, afraid to peel the edges up and see for yourself.

he's chuckling as he does it for you, the wrap pulling away to reveal the neat black lines and bold color of a traditional tattoo, a plump little pinup in a barely-hanging-on mechanic's jumpsuit, her cartoonishly circular tits squeezed between her own arms as she leaned confidently over simplified engine block. it's good work from what you can tell. his bicep is a big canvas, the tattoo itself appropriately sized, leaving the artist enough room for minute details, smudges of brown oil accentuating your curves and a wry smile below demure lids.

still.

"you didn't," you scoff, too blown away to even know if you're actually mad or not. you don't think you are, but what if he -

what if -

"well it was either this or i get you airbrushed on the side of the blackhawk, but you are mine, and i do not want just anyone to see you like that."

[lorelune]

(michael kaiser x reader // 18+ MDNI // cws: yandere kaiser, stalking, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic behaviors // wc: 2.2k)

"so you really did it?"

"did what?" you ask, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke into the frigid air. your fingers are numb.

"break up with him!"

"kaiser?" you snort, taking another drag before speaking. "i guess? i called things off earlier today, but we weren't actually dating. so it's not like it's really a breakup."

"... sure."

your friend on the line hardly sounds convinced. but it is... true. you and michael kaiser never dated. you never had a label, never discussed any type of commitment or potential future together. though you had spent more than one weekend (try a dozen plus) at his apartment, oscillating between cuddling, fucking, and being in each other's presence's in a way that was distinctly not platonic—

you and michael kaiser were never dating. you were not together. (Regardless of him flying you out to one match in Vienna, and the another in Rome—) you weren't dating.

you never were.

you never expected to either. michael kaiser was transparently damaged, and handling it in an unproductive, destructive manner. you saw this from a mile away, but entertained your chemistry regardless. maybe it was the influence of a few drinks and a few heated arguments that got you in bed with him to begin with, despite clocking his toxic tendencies early on.

you fought a lot, for not being a couple.

care made kaiser squirrely and angry. kindness made him snap. aggression, biting and clawing— angry sex that metastasized into something carnal and closer to a fight resonated with him far more than little affections. you only saw moments of vulnerability from him when you were both fucked out and exhausted. or, when he thought you weren't looking. you felt him pet through your hair while he thought you were asleep, more than once.

you broke up with kaiser because you couldn't handle things as they were anymore.

maybe you wanted to be loved. maybe you wanted to be held, openly and tenderly. maybe, you wanted a partner and not a man with an ego problem who fucked like a god and treated you like invasive creature nine times out of ten when you showed him affectionate.

(you just want to be loved.)

the luxuries and innate chemistry of your relationship simply wasn't worth it.

so, you broke things off. over text, because it seemed the least messy.

[you]: hey, what we have isn't working for me anymore. i don't want to see you any longer. i care about you a lot, but what we have is not sustainable. i wish you all the best, michael.

(you try not to be too affectionate with your message, lest you rile him up. you want to be gentle, but not too... emotional. it's better this way.)

you block him after sending the text. clean breaks— it's kinder in the long run, isn't it? even if it hurts more in the moment.

you sigh into the receiver, tossing your cigarette butt to the side, "i mean it, we weren't ever serious."

"if you say so."

you kick at the snow beneath your feet. there's an inch or two of it on the ground, coating the cobblestones of the path you walk on. the river that cuts through your city runs, despite the cold. there's no one around, and it's peaceful beneath the amber-tinged street lights.

"you don't sound convinced."

"because i'm not." your friend pauses. "... have you seen his instagram story from today?"

"nope," you pop the word from your lips. "i blocked him."

"already?"

"immediately."

"damn. that's cold of you."

"you don't know kaiser like i do," you shake your head. it's better this way, to be cleaner.

(you have always been able to foresee the way that man would tear you apart, if you misstepped too grievously.)

"well regardless," a notification comes up on your phone. your friends has sent a screenshot of kaiser's story. "look. he flew out to your city."

your stomach drops. sure enough, the screenshot has a location stamp over a photo of kaiser's deft hands, twirling a flute of champagne from what is clearly a first class seat.

"... maybe he has a match."

(he doesn't. you know this; there's no league that plays in your city.)

"or, he's coming to see you!"

"that would be insane," you laugh. that bastard... wouldn't, would he? he is... was halfway across the world.

"it would be romantic."

"it would be insane," you repeat.

you turn on your heel, back the way your came through the parkway. your apartment is... about a mile away, maybe. it's dark and cold, but you can probably get back there quickly. you're not sure where this particular sense of haste comes from—

but it's a frantic sort of feeling.

your friend pouts, "you have no sense of romance then, i guess."

(and your friend doesn't know michael kaiser.)

anxiety pitches around between your stomach and lungs. you swallow, and it feels too dry.

"i promise i do," you shake your head. "that's the problem."

"sure. tell me more about it later, 'kay? i gotta get ready to go out. let me know if your man shows up!"

your stomach rolls. "gotcha."

"bye bye!"

the line goes dead. your drop your arm to the side, your phone like a deadweight in your hand. you take a few steadying breaths, looking out at the rush of the river. the roar of it is just far enough away to not be overstimulating. the rest of the night is blanketed in snow and stillness.

you nearly trip as you begin to walk again, panic unfurling in your chest with each step.

(there's no way michael came all the way to your city, on a fucking last minute flight no less, for you. there's no literally no fucking way.)

why would he anyway? to try and salvage your not relationship? that hardly logical. there has to be another reason— his team has had him in a few PR campaigns lately, maybe... maybe that's it.

(you know that you are lying to yourself.)

you slip, just for a step or two, on some ice that's beneath the layer of fluffy snow. barely, you keep yourself upright, your arms flying up to find your balance once more. you take a steadying breath, pressing a hand to your chest.

"you should be more careful."

the blood in your veins freezes, numb and chilled like the air around you. your head jerks up.

kaiser sits on a bench, about ten paces in from of you. his arms are spread out over the back of it. he regards you with a tilt of his head, almost playful.

he looks you up and down, voice full of poison, "you could have hurt yourself."

"why the fuck are you here?" your voice barely manages to stay steady.

"why wouldn't i be?" kaiser shakes his head, a laugh bubbling in his chest. the cadence of it makes you feel nothing but unease. "i've got a match in London. i'm just picking you up."

"what are you talking about?" you swallow, audibly. you know that he hears it.

"don't be obtuse." he stands up. your stomach fills with leaden dread.

"you don't be obtuse," you snap back. "we're done. this—" you point between the two of you, "— is over."

"that's a mutual decision." he steps toward you.

you step back. "no, it's not."

kaiser is faster than you, he's up against your front in a moment. it makes you stumble back, nearly falling on the same patch of ice as before.

deftly, he gets an arm around your waist. the force of it is immediately too much, too tight, too hard. you're pulled against him, chest-to-chest. you brace your hands on his shoulders, some attempt at distance, but he doesn't budge. he stares down at you, the cold heat of his own presence engulfing you effortlessly.

"i-it's not," you whisper, voice wobbling. "you need to leave."

"you're an idiot."

"please let go."

"now, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" kaiser smiles, something acidic that you can almost taste.

he bends the two of you, so your back arches. you scramble against him for some purchase.

"there's nothing to 'let go'," his sneers. you hit your fist against his shoulder. "you're coming with me to London, and you'll stop throwing this tantrum now, or along the way."

"it's a not fucking tantrum!" you snap at him. your voice matches the roar of the river. you meet his gaze, angry slipping into your tone as it so often does with him. "we are done. i don't want anything to do with you, michael— especially now. i can't believe you hopped on a fucking plane to, what, harass me on my own turf?"

his palms circles your jaw in a swift, uncomfortably fast movement. the pressure of him is unyielding. you can't look anywhere other than him.

the way he looks at you scares you, now more than ever. the frigid blue of his eyes is haunting and as hollow as it is full of vitriol. anger. all directed at you.

"i 'hopped on a plane' to take you home," kaiser dips you further. if he wasn't holding you, you'd crash to the ground. "i should've done so earlier, but i didn't expect that you'd lose your shit so quickly."

you weren't—, "i’m not—"

his grip on your jaw grows tighter. from a distance, this may look romantic to an onlooker.

from your position, you are in the jaws of a beast that you thought you had escaped.

"you're mine—" he pats your cheek, hard, as he tells you. the angle is bad, given it's with the same hand that's holding your jaw. your brain rattles inside of your skull. "don't think you can run away just because you got a bit scared."

"that's not why i broke up with you—"

"but, it is."

you want to cry, run away, jump in that goddamn fucking river. "no—"

"i get it," kaiser noses into your cheek. he's just as cold as you are. his voice is too soft; it unnerves you. "it's scary, loving someone. i'm scared too"

"i—" you don't love him, you can't love him—

he pulls back just enough to dip your body as far as it can go, and look into your eyes, his own pupils blown.

"let's be scared together," he says, just above a whisper, before slotting his lips against yours.

you slam your fist on his shoulders, his chest, the back of his head— you don't fucking care. whatever you can reach. kaiser doesn't relent. instead, he licks into your mouth. kisses you filthy in a public park just because he can.

maybe his words seem romantic, if you were to recount them to someone else. maybe. maybe someone could read his plane ride to you as a grand, romantically-driven gesture.

but, as he holds your head squarely in place, and fucks your mouth with his tongue, stealing your words and breath in tandem— you know, so lucidly, that none of kaiser intent here is 'romantic'. not in a way that's normal, that's sane.

no, this is the only way a deeper connection can exist for him, you think. the hand on your jaw slips down to your throat, holding you there. it's a collar and kaiser's holding the leash.

you whimper; you feel so foolish. you feel so fucking stupid for thinking you could disentangle yourself from him so easily.

"do you get it now?" kaiser says against you lips.

all you can do is nod, it's all the action he allows you.

all of the fights and tension that made connection between you before so intoxicating— it evolved into this. it was always destined to. you've been ensnared since day one, but didn't have the foresight to see you.

kaiser did, though.

as he pulls away, you're light-headed. he rights you and steadies you at the waist. he pats your head and even coos at you.

"are you done now?" he begins to walk you with a hand at your lower back— back in the direction you came. probably toward the nice hotel in the center of town where he undoubtedly has a suite. where he'll fuck you stupid into the king mattress. "if you cry, i'll just make it worse."

'worse'.

you shake your head, hard and fast, and suck down any tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

he seems pleased. "good."

there's nothing you can do but walk by his side. this has always been his design, even if you couldn't see it. regardless of any attempts to sever things and run off, even cleanly, this is where you'll end up.

hip-to-hip, with his hand on your lower back. with the promise of pain and pleasure doled out to you in equal measure.

as you step through the doors of the, as expected, upscale hotel, a wave of warm, fragranced air hits you. and with it, some part of you sags, defeated so simply. crushed. you sniffle and rub at your eyes.

(you don't see kaiser smiling at your side. you don't see the way he slips the concierge a wad of bills with the understanding that he'll be given a room far away from others, and that you won't be disturbed.

he has work to do. you— were going to fucking leave him? he— he needs to make sure that you understand that that is not your choice to make.

and, as he sees you, stifling tears and shaking like a leaf, your little act shattered so seamlessly, he thinks you really are starting to get it.)

you are his.

[loafysainz]

The Royal Game | LN 4

lando norris!polo athlete x princess!reader

warn: mdni, lil bit smut, obsession

minor do not read it!

Royal Windsor Cup Final – one of the most prestigious polo tournaments in England, attended by royals and high society.

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have come. She had every excuse in the world to skip, but skipping wasn’t an option when you were literally required to show up. Royals didn’t do last-minute cancellations unless they wanted to end up on some scandalous newspaper cover.

Y/N hated this event. Well, not the event itself, but the fact that he was there.

But, here she was. Sitting front row, watching Lando Norris—golden boy of polo, the center of attention, and the one person she had been desperately avoiding for the past three months.

She hated him. Well—not hate-hate, but hate in the way where she couldn’t stand the way he looked at her. Like he owned her. Like he had every right to.

All because of that one night. One reckless night, a night she should’ve never let happen, he had become... obsessed. Not in the cute, romantic way.

He wasn’t obsessed-obsessed—okay, maybe he was. Threatening her every time she ignored him, showing up where she least expected, sending flowers, notes, even slipping past security once.

And now, here she was, sitting in the royal box, pretending to be invested in the match while Y/N sucked in a breath, keeping her focus locked on the field. Lando was good. Annoyingly good. He rode like he was born in the saddle, his mallet connecting with the ball effortlessly, scoring point after point while the crowd roared. His confidence was unbearable.

And he knew she was watching.

Because every time he scored, he’d look up—straight at her.

Fuck.

When the match ended, Y/N wasted no time. Get up, smile, clap, and leave. That was the plan. Except—Lando had other ideas.

Avoid. Avoid. Avoid. She repeated in her head, dodging past the after-party crowd, sliding into the powder room like her life depended on it.

She took a deep breath, staring at her reflection. Five minutes. Just five minutes and he’ll be gone.

The door creaked open.

She stiffened. Another guest, probably.

Except—wrong.

Because when she turned around, Lando fucking Norris was standing there, blocking the door, his face completely unreadable.

“Lando—”

He stepped forward. She stepped back.

“This is the ladies’ room,” she said, voice smaller than she wanted it to be.

Lando tilted his head. “And you think I give a fuck?”

Shit. His voice was low. Dangerous.

She swallowed. “You can’t be in here—”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He took another step, eyes dark. Not playful. Not teasing. Just pissed. “Ignoring me like that? Pretending I don’t exist?”

Y/N’s heart dropped.

“You’re insane,” she whispered.

Lando chuckled, dark and humorless. “And you’re fucking delusional if you think I’ll let you keep running from me.”

He was in front of her now, hands braced on either side of her against the sink, caging her in.

Too close. Too much.

Y/N exhaled sharply. “You need to back off.”

Lando smirked. “Make me.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “I mean it, Lando. Whatever this is—it’s not happening.”

Silence.

And then, he laughed.

A slow, amused chuckle, like she’d just told him the funniest joke in the world.

Y/N’s breath hitched when his fingers suddenly tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

“I told you,” he murmured, way too close. “I don’t like to be ignored.”

Then he kissed her.

No warning. No hesitation. Just his lips crashing against hers like he had every fucking right to.

And maybe—just maybe—she let him. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel it.

The desperation. The frustration. The fucking obsession.

His hands were gripping her waist now, tighter than they should. The heat between them was suffocating, electric.

She gasped against his lips, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, like he needed to prove something. Like he needed to remind her exactly who she was dealing with.

Y/N pushed at his chest. He didn’t move.

“Lando—”

“I don’t care,” he growled. “I don’t care how long you avoid me. You’re mine.”

I will add the explicit scene later, and the warning will also be updated. Happy reading hope u like it!! 🤍

[armpirate]

The Vows Between Us || Jungkook

pairing: JK x fem!reader || Arranged marriage

w.c.: 13.6k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, unprotected sex, teasing, edging (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content)

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: For Jungkook, marrying you was a calculated move -a necessary step to secure the company that was rightfully his. But also a move to know you'd be his after years of looking at you from afar. For you, it was an escape from the gilded cage your family had locked you in. What neither of you anticipated was the spark that would ignite in the ashes of your arrangement. But in a world where every touch felt like a promise and every whisper hid a secret, falling for him was your first mistake. Because just when you thought his heart might truly be yours, you uncovered the truth. Or so you thought.

MASTERLIST

The air inside Jungkook's office was warm and suffocating despite the minimalistic modern design and large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Berlin's skyline. You stepped inside with measured steps, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. Jungkook was already there, leaning against the edge of his grand wooden desk with his long tattooed fingers wrapping around the pen that kept swirling on his digits every few seconds, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

"You're early," he said, his voice smooth but laced with something smug.

"I prefer to get unpleasant things over with quickly," you replied, your tone cool and detached as you slipped off your coat. "I assume your father told you why I'm here."

Jungkook chuckled, swirling the pen one last time before putting it down. "Oh, I know. The future Mrs. Jeon wants to 'discuss terms,' right? Sounds like a business merger already." his dark eyes gleamed with interest as he looked you up and down, deliberately slow. "But I'm curious, why did you finally agree? You seemed so determined to avoid me before."

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Not everything is about you, Jungkook. My reasons are my own."

The smirk faltered for a split second before returning, this time tinged with something bittersweet. "Fair enough," he said, straightening up and taking a step closer, his voice dropping just slightly. "But you'll have to get used to things being about us. At least, that's what everyone else will expect starting next weekend."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to show it. You kept your expression neutral, tilting your head just slightly. "Let's get one thing straight, this marriage may be inevitable, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Jungkook smiled -slow, dangerous, and entirely too pleased. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

That sentence alone had you rolling your eyes, trying to control yourself from slipping your tongue on how disgusted you were by that whole thing.

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the strap of yourbag. "As long as you understand where we stand, this arrangement might work. We'll play the perfect couple for the public. But behind closed doors, we keep our distance until we sign the divorce papers. Simple."

Jungkook stepped closer, closing the space between you just enough to make your breath hitch. His cologne -warm and spicy- wrapped around you like an invisible trap. "Keep our distance?" he repeated, his voice low, almost amused. "Is that what you want? Because that's not what it looked like back at that business gala... when you couldn't stop staring."

As much as you wanted to deny it, your eyes were indeed on him the whole time. He was charming and captivating, it was impossible to move your eyes away from him. But that hypnosis lasted until his family came up with the idea of imposing that marriage on you. He lost all his charm just at that moment.

You narrowed your eyes. "I was staring at the disaster unfolding around me, not at you."

Jungkook smirked, tilting his head. "Right. That's why your eyes followed me the entire night." he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "You're good at playing it cold, Y/n. But I wonder how long you can keep that act up once we're married."

You refused to back down, your voice calm despite the spark of irritation in your chest. "I've dealt with men far more intimidating than you, Jungkook. Trust me, keeping you at arm's length won't be a challenge."

A flicker of something darker crossed his eyes -something almost dangerous. For a moment, the air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and years of unresolved tension.

"Good," Jungkook finally said, his voice a whisper. "Keep trying to resist me. It'll make it that much more fun when you fail."

Your jaw tightened, and you took a step back, reclaiming the distance. "You're delusional if you think I'll ever fall for you."

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in amused awe as he took on the challenge. "We'll see, future Mrs. Jeon. We've got a lifetime to test that theory."

You turned on your heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words affected you. But as you walked toward the door, you couldn't shake the feeling that Jungkook was right. The real challenge wasn't staying distant -it was making sure you didn't get burned by the fire between you.

"By the way, you mentioned divorce... didn't you?" your tracks stopped the second he mentioned that detail, hearing his heavy steps behind you as he approached his body.

Slowly, you turned to him, unable to back down on your stance "That's what we agreed on."

"Some deals suffer changes as they have to meet different necessities, don't you think?" the way his eyebrows arched, while his lips pursed on a mocking grin almost had you losing your patience. "Divorce was ever on the plate? Because I don't think it was one of my conditions".

"No, it was one of mine" you spat back. "Either sign those divorce papers on good terms, or I'll drag you from one trial to another" Jungkook loved the challenge, he loved the way your eyes fixed on him to make sure he understood everything you were saying.

"What if I don't want to sign them?"

"Then you'll have to find another dumbass to agree to get married to you" you rolled your eyes, thinking that would be the end of your conversation, but his fingers hooked on your elbow to stop you from walking away.

You weren't sure exactly when he got so close, but you could feel the warm air escaping his nostrils on your cheeks.

"Don't try to throw a fist at me" he stopped you. "You're so used to getting what you want, don't you? You pout a little, you act a little bitchy and daddy gives you all you want. Let me give you a spoiler: that won't work with me. The moment you're my wife, you'll do as I say. And if I say I don't want to get divorced, then you won't get those fucking papers".

Your eyes started to water: rage, sadness, frustration... All those feelings were building up as you realized you got to a no-exit stop. Your plans were crumbling down, all your ideas were getting ruined, and all you could do was tighten your lips and open your eyes as much as possible so tears wouldn't escape with a blink.

Daddy's girl? He had absolutely no idea. If you were living in such a perfect place, you wouldn't have agreed in the first place, but the fact that your parents -or people who gave you shelter when you needed it- agreed on engaging their daughter with a complete stranger for money should've given him enough of a hint of your reality.

"Your choice" you managed to get rid of his grip. "Either sign those papers, or I'll make sure to tell everyone what all of this is about".

"You won't. And you wanna know how I know?" he took one step closer to you. "I'll make your life a living hell if you do".

"With what power?"

Your mocking tone was the last straw before he moved his hand from your elbow to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and slamming your body against the wide door.

"I don't need any power for that." his eyes were dark, his threat becoming a promise "Even if it's the last thing I do, I'll make you regret ever messing with me. So you better come with a pretty dress and the best of attitudes next weekend". He let go of your throat slowly, calmly placing his shirt properly "I know you'll make the best decision" he finally said.

Your eyes were fixed on him, confused at how easily he let you go. And, somehow, his words were even scarier than his actions, because you could see the threat through them.

The grand hall was filled with muted whispers and expectant gazes, the air thick with anticipation. The soft hum of violins played in the background, their melody delicate but almost haunting. The guests sat in rows beneath an arch of white roses and crystal chandeliers, their eyes flitting between the tall doors at the back of the aisle and Jungkook, who stood at the altar in his perfectly tailored black suit, waiting.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he stole a glance at the watch, sliding the sleeve of his jacket just a bit far up.

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen.

You weren't there.

He told himself you'd show up. You had to. But with each passing second, doubt sank its claws deeper into him. His heart pounded, and the polished facade he wore so well began to crack. Was this your way of backing out? A silent rebellion against a marriage neither of you had chosen? Were you actually telling the truth when you said you wouldn't show up if he didn't promise you a divorce?

The doors remained closed, and Jungkook's jaw tightened. His father, seated in the front row, shot him a warning glance -one that practically screamed "Handle this".

Then, just as his patience teetered on the edge of collapse, the heavy doors finally creaked open.

A hush fell over the crowd.

And there you were.

You stood at the entrance in your wedding dress, the long veil trailing behind you, catching the soft light like a halo. For a moment, the room seemed to blur around you, everything fading except the heavy thud of your heart. You could feel every eye on you, the weight of their expectations pressing down on your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your feet felt like concrete as you took your first step. Hesitation rooted itself deep inside you, your body caught in a battle between instinct and obligation.

Jungkook watched you with an intensity that bordered on desperation. His dark eyes flickered with a thousand questions. You couldn't miss the way his shoulders tensed or how his lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the fear he was trying so hard to conceal.

Step by step, you made your way down the aisle, but each step felt heavier than the last. Doubt whispered cruelly in your ear. "You don't have to do this" you told yourself.

Your fingers clutched the bouquet so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You forced yourself forward, your gaze fixed ahead, refusing to meet Jungkook's eyes until you stood just a breath away from him.

"Finally," Jungkook muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

There was relief in his tone, but it was wrapped in a layer of frustration.

The officiant began to speak, his words echoing in the cavernous hall. You barely registered them, your mind a tangled mess of emotions. Jungkook's eyes never left yours. His expression was calm on the surface, but you could see the storm raging just beneath it: fear, frustration, and something dangerously close to longing.

"And now," the officiant said, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind, "if the bride and groom would like to exchange their vows."

Jungkook went first. His voice was steady, but the practiced words carried an unexpected weight, laced with sincerity that caught you off guard.

"I promise to protect you," he said, his gaze locking onto yours. "To stand beside you through whatever comes next. No matter what happens... I'm yours."

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes -just a flash- but it was enough to send your heart lurching in your chest.

Then it was your turn. The officiant turned to you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came.

A heavy silence hung in the air. It stretched long enough to make the guests shift uncomfortably in their seats. Even the soft melody of the violins seemed to falter.

Everything you had prepared so mindfully disappeared at the feeling of being so watched, as if you were under watchful eye. You were sure it'd be obvious you weren't feeling either of the words you were pronouncing.

Jungkook's fingers curled slightly at his sides, his eyes searching yours for a sign, for anything.

The officiant cleared his throat. "Do you, Y/n, take Jeon Jungkook to be your lawfully wedded husband?" his tone was insistent, as if he wanted to get any words from you to get all of that over with.

The pause that followed was suffocating. You felt Jungkook's breath catch, his entire body coiled tight, ready to unravel.

Although he hoped you wouldn't humiliate him that way, he saw you completely able to do it.

Finally, you whispered the words.

"...I do."

Your voice was barely audible, a breath more than a declaration. But it was enough.

Jungkook exhaled, his shoulders relaxing, though the tension in his jaw remained. His eyes never left yours, dark and unreadable, as if trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

The officiant smiled, oblivious to the war waging between the two of you. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jungkook hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before leaning in. Your head immediately threw back slightly, enough for him to know you didn't want that kiss and make it seem like a shy move for the rest of the assistants. His hand found your waist -firm but not forceful- as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, calculated for the audience, but the heat of it lingered far longer than it should have. Jungkook had been daydreaming way too long about it to waste that chance.

His lips were warm against yours, but there was something else beneath the surface. A question. A challenge.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours once more. He didn't smile. Neither did you.

The applause from the crowd felt distant, like it belonged to another world entirely.

As the two of you turned to face the audience, Jungkook leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"We're just getting started," he whispered, his voice dark with promise.

You kept your face neutral, your expression unreadable, but your pulse betrayed you, thudding wildly in your chest.

The reception was a spectacle of luxury and elegance, just as expected from a merger of two powerful families. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the grand hall, where hundreds of guests mingled, sipping champagne and exchanging polite congratulations.

You smiled and nodded your way through countless conversations, always keeping one eye on Jungkook. He was never far, and every time you saw him start toward you, you slipped between groups of guests or ducked behind another table.

You had managed to avoid him all night. At the cake-cutting ceremony, his hand had hovered near yours on the knife, holding tighter over your skin as you threatened to let the long sword slide from your fingers to his throat. And for a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, yet he only smirked and moved closer to you. You were quick to turn away, disappearing into the crowd the moment the applause broke, trying to get away from him.

Jungkook, however, was nothing if not persistent.

The moment you saw him again, his dark eyes locked onto yours from across the dance floor. This time, there was no escape. The crowd parted just enough for him to make his way toward you, his strides deliberate and confident.

"Running from me again?" he said when he reached you, his voice low, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

You lifted your chin, forcing your expression to stay composed. "I wasn't running. I was... mingling with the guests."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Mingling." he offered his hand, palm open and waiting. "Well, it's time for the first dance, Mrs. Jeon. You wouldn't want to disappoint our guests, would you?"

Your stomach tightened at the weight of his words. There was no getting out of this. Not without causing a scene.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm, and you couldn't help but notice how easily they fit together.

The lights dimmed, and the soft melody of "You Are the Reason" by Calum Scott filled the air. A sweet, tender song -one that felt far too intimate for the situation, as if it was meant for two people who loved each other.

Jungkook led you to the center of the dance floor, his hand resting gently on your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse stutter.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up today," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. His eyes searched yours, the teasing edge gone now, replaced by something far more serious. "You made me worried."

You swallowed, your gaze dropping for a split second before meeting his again. "I was... thinking things through."

His hand tightened slightly on your waist. "Did you change your mind at the last minute?"

For a moment, you didn't answer. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. The song swelled around you, the lyrics wrapping around your heart like a bittersweet lullaby.

You knew hell would be nothing compared to your life if you didn't show up to the wedding. Not because of Jungkook or his family though, but your adoptive parents. The moment you twisted all of their plans, there would be no escape from it.

At least with Jungkook you wouldn't owe anyone anything. Instead, you'd be the one they owe something to.

Jungkook's eyes softened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "If you had, I would've waited. I would've found another way."

Your breath hitched. His words caught you off guard -unexpected and disarming. For the first time that night, the wall you had so carefully built around yourself began to crack.

He seemed so genuine, so caring.

"I'm here now," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "That's all that matters."

His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah. You're here."

The music continued, the world around you fading as you moved together in perfect synchrony. His touch was light yet grounding, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a fleeting second, you forgot about the crowd, the expectations, the tangled mess of your circumstances. It was just the two of you, swaying gently beneath the chandeliers, the lyrics of the song weaving a story neither of you was ready to admit aloud.

As the final notes faded, Jungkook leaned in just slightly, his voice a soft murmur against your ear.

"You can keep running all you want," he said, his breath warm on your skin. "But sooner or later, you'll stop. And when you do... I'll be right here, waiting."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. There was no smirk, no mask, just him.

The applause from the crowd broke the spell, and you quickly stepped back, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. Jungkook let you go, but his eyes stayed on you, dark and unreadable, as if daring you to run again.

And maybe you would. But for the first time, a small part of you wondered if running was really what you wanted. No, you stayed by his side, answering to his challenge with the same power he was showing off.

The party blurred into a collection of clinking glasses, polite congratulations, and watchful eyes. Despite the sea of guests surrounding you, you felt like you were holding your breath the entire time. So when Jungkook leaned close and whispered, "Let's get out of here," you didn't argue. If he hadn't said it, you probably would've escaped by yourself.

Now, the two of you sat in the back of a sleek black car, the hum of the city filling the silence between you. The driver navigated the streets with ease, the warm glow of streetlights flashing across the car's interior.

Jungkook sat beside you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes kept drifting toward your hand -the wedding ring glinting softly on your finger. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he was staring.

You caught him once, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, something unreadable flashed across his face. "No," he said quietly. "Just getting used to the sight."

You turned your hand slightly, the light catching on the diamond. The ring was beautiful, of course -a complex design that was probably picked out by your parents and Jungkook's father rather than by either of you. It felt foreign on your finger, a constant reminder of the deal you'd made.

Jungkook's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "It suits you," he said, his voice soft, almost contemplative.

You said nothing, turning your head to watch the city rush by through the window. Jungkook simply smirked, knowing that your silence was better than a sassy response from you.

When the car finally pulled up to the luxury hotel, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, feeling the cool night air brush against your skin. Jungkook followed close behind, his hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching.

The suite was exactly what you expected -grand and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Brandenburg Gate. A bottle of champagne and a tray of chocolates waited on the marble table, while a large king-sized bed sat at the center of the room, draped in crisp white linens.

You set your bag down and turned to Jungkook, folding your arms across your chest. "I'll take the bed. You can sleep on the couch."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "The couch?"

"It's comfortable enough," you said, nodding toward the plush, oversized sofa near the window. "Plenty of space."

Jungkook took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "We're married now, remember? Sharing the bed won't kill us."

You scoffed lightly, crossing the room to stand by the couch. "Not happening." You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Fine. You take the bed. I'll sleep here." you rushed to say, feeling your energy consumed by the small talk you made with all the guests.

"No." his response was immediate, his tone firm. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then am I sleeping on the floor?" you arched an eyebrow "Because I won't sleep with you in the same bed".

You stared at him, daring him to argue further. But to your surprise, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Alright. I'll sleep on the couch."

His sudden surrender caught you off guard. "Just like that?"

He smirked faintly, tossing his jacket onto a chair. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

You watched him for a moment, suspicious of how easily he gave in, but ultimately decided not to push it. "Good. I'll get ready for bed."

As you disappeared into the bathroom, Jungkook sank onto the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions. He glanced at the wedding ring on his own hand, turning it slowly between his fingers. For all his confidence and charm, there was something strangely grounding about the weight of the band.

As much as that wasn't the way he wanted you to be by his side, it somehow made him feel good.

When you returned, dressed in something far more comfortable than your wedding gown, Jungkook was already stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes.

"Comfortable?" you asked, standing by the bed.

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his lips quivering into a faint smile. "I've had worse."

You rolled your eyes and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around you. For a few moments, silence filled the room, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the windows.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, you heard Jungkook's voice -quiet but clear in the darkness.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

You hesitated before responding, your voice soft. "Goodnight, Jungkook."

Neither of you said anything after that, but sleep didn't come easily. You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, painfully aware of his presence just a few feet away.

The distance between you felt both vast and dangerously fragile. And as the minutes stretched into hours, you couldn't help but wonder how long it would stay that way.

The morning started quietly -too quietly. You woke up, blinking against the soft morning light spilling into the room, only to find Jungkook already sitting on the couch, his phone in hand. His jacket was gone, and his dress shirt, slightly wrinkled from the night before, was unbuttoned at the collar. He looked far too relaxed for someone who had spent the night on a couch after your wedding.

"Good morning," he said, his eyes flicking to yours the second you stirred. His voice was calm, but there was something smug lurking just beneath the surface, as if he was already one step ahead of you.

You rubbed your eyes, forcing yourself to sound composed. "Morning."

A few beats of silence passed, too long to be comfortable.

"You were tossing and turning last night," Jungkook said casually, stretching his arms behind his head. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept just fine," you lied, standing and heading for your bag. You could feel his eyes on your every move, sharp and assessing.

"You sure? You sounded restless." his voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

You froze, giving him a flat look. "Were you listening to me sleep?"

He grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's hard not to when someone mutters 'This is a mistake' at 2 a.m."

Your face heated. "I did not..."

"You did." his smirk widened. "I thought about waking you up to ask what you meant, but I figured I'd let you dream about it instead."

You crossed your arms, your patience wearing thin. "Thanks for your consideration, Jungkook."

"Anything for you, love," he said, drawing out the word with deliberate sarcasm.

"You've really mastered being annoying, haven't you?" you shot back, heading toward the closet.

"Years of practice," he said, standing up and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. "You'll get used to it."

You rolled your eyes, yanking open your suitcase with unnecessary force. "God forbid."

Jungkook chuckled under his breath, walking over to lean casually against the wall beside you. "You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you like this."

You turned to glare at him. "Like what?"

"This," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "The bickering. The back-and-forth. Admit it, it's fun."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jungkook, not everything is a game. And if you think this -whatever this is- counts as fun, then we're going to have a very long, very difficult marriage."

He tilted his head, pretending to think. "A long marriage... Sounds like you're planning to stick around. It does sound really good to me."

"Oh my god," you muttered, turning on your heel. "I can't do this right now."

You stalked toward the bathroom, determined to get a moment's peace.

"You're already giving up?" he called after you. "We've been married for less than 24 hours, Y/n!"

"I'm not giving up. I'm taking a shower," you snapped, slamming the bathroom door shut.

The water was a relief, washing away some of the tension, but your frustration lingered like a storm cloud. And then, halfway through shampooing your hair, you realized something.

You forgot to bring clothes.

You let out a frustrated groan, rinsing the shampoo quickly before wrapping yourself in a towel. The last thing you wanted was to ask Jungkook for help, so you cracked the door open and peeked out.

He was still there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for your return like some smug predator.

Of course.

You squared your shoulders and stepped out, keeping your head high as you made your way toward the bag.

Jungkook's eyes found you immediately, sweeping over your damp hair and the towel wrapped tightly around you. He didn't even try to hide it.

"Forgot something?" his voice was low and teasing.

"Not a word," you warned, grabbing your clothes.

But before you could escape back to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His fingers were warm, firm, and far too steady for someone who was enjoying this way too much.

"Why bother going back?" he said softly, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone that always made your pulse race. "You're already here."

You tightened your grip on your towel. "Let me go, Jungkook."

His eyes darkened, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a slow, deliberate motion. "Why? What's the big deal? We're married now, remember?"

Your breath caught, but you forced your voice to stay steady. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're thinking."

He leaned in just slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. "Then prove it. Get changed right here." His gaze dropped for a split second before meeting yours again, his voice barely a whisper. "Unless you're shy."

Your heart thundered in your chest, heat rushing to your face. "I'm not shy."

You weren't shy, but you didn't like the way your body was reacting to his voice, to his petition and his proximity. And you certainly didn't want him to see it so clearly either.

"Then go ahead," he said, his voice practically daring you.

You glared at him, yanking your wrist free. "Turn around."

"I'm not turning around" he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's the fun of it if I can't see you?"

He was trying to intimidate you, challenge you to do something he thought you wouldn't dare to do, so he could then tease you about it.

Two could play that game.

You placed the clothes on the bed, next to where he was. Taking one step back, your hands were placed on both edges of the towel, slowly undoing the knot to let it pool at your feet. Jungkook gulped thick at the sight, not expecting you to actually get naked in front of him, and even less that way, and it gave you a pinch of pride at how nervous he looked for a second.

You didn't need to do anything, just that stare and the sight of your body alone was enough to awaken the most primal needs. His body responded to you, even if it had been just a second he saw you. Your humid skin, the way some drops fell from your hair and rolled down the curve of your breast to get to your hardened nipple. His mouth was watering just with the need of tasting you.

Jungkook blinked, confused at the way your hand was stretched out for him, "The panties" you mentioned as if it were obvious.

His hand moved to his left, grabbing the fabric to hand it out to you. You put them on torturously slow, covering your lower half to snap your fingers and asking him for your bra. Placing the strips on your shoulders, you turned to him, your body fitting perfectly in between his semi-parted legs as you silently asked him to tie the clasp.

Shivers ran through your body at the contact of the reverse of his fingers on your skin, his touch holding on longer than necessary, just because he liked the way you felt as he touched you a little bit too much.

You didn't need to ask, because Jungkook moved to the next item the moment you stepped away.

He should've seen it coming for him when he saw you lifting your feet, placing it on his thigh -way too close to a place where he needed you like crazy. Your fingers moved calmly, sliding the tight over your leg, up the curve of your knee, moving it past your thigh. Yet Jungkook could only focus on how your warmth spread over his skin like wildfire, making him feel you were touching him in places you were not.

When you finally stepped back to put on the other side of the tight, and the rest of clothes, Jungkook felt like he could breathe again, his control coming back to him when he was able to think straight -which also happened when you were fully clothed again.

You thought he'd hesitate or act shy, but instead his cocky attitude came back as he stood up, the height difference becoming obvious again as he towered over you.

"See how it isn't that difficult to be a good girl?" he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You'd have thrown a shoe at him if he hadn't hidden inside the bathroom immediately after airing out that response.

He was insufferable.

The car ride to Jungkook's house was quiet, tense, and far too long for your liking. The morning sun bathed the streets in gold, but it did nothing to lighten the atmosphere inside the vehicle. Jungkook sat beside you, one arm draped lazily across the back of the seat, his eyes occasionally drifting toward you as you stared resolutely out the window.

He had been surprisingly well-behaved since the towel incident, keeping his teasing remarks to a minimum -though his occasional glances were enough to keep you on edge.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his house, your eyes widened slightly. House was an understatement. It was a sprawling modern estate with sleek glass panels, sharp architectural lines, and an air of quiet luxury.

"Home sweet home," Jungkook said, stepping out of the car and holding the door open for you with a half-smirk.

You stepped out, clutching your overnight bag tightly. "Big enough so we won't have to see each other for a whole day"

"Thanks for noticing," he quipped. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

You followed him up the steps, trying not to be too impressed as you took in the pristine interior-marble floors, minimalist décor, and massive windows that flooded the space with light.

"Kitchen's over there," Jungkook said, gesturing toward an open-concept area with gleaming countertops. "Dining room, living room... you know, standard rich-guy stuff."

"Right," you said dryly. "Because this is completely normal."

He glanced back at you with a grin. "You'll get used to it." the mockery on his tone, knowing damn too well you were used to all that luxury and more, shouldn't have been as funny as it seemed for you.

You rolled your eyes, walking a little faster to avoid his gaze. The tension from earlier was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was muted now, replaced by an odd sense of anticipation.

"Upstairs," Jungkook said, leading you to the second floor. You followed him down a hallway lined with modern artwork and huge windows, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors.

He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway and turned to you. "This is your room."

You blinked, caught off guard. "My... room?"

Jungkook nodded, his expression unreadable. "I figured you'd want your own space."

Your hand tightened around the strap of your bag. For a moment, you didn't know what to say. You had fully expected him to make some smug comment about sharing a bed -or worse, insist on it. But there he was, offering you something you hadn't dared to hope for: distance.

"Thanks," you said quietly, stepping into the room. It was beautiful -spacious, with a king-sized bed, soft cream-colored walls, and a large window that overlooked the shared garden of the building. There was even an en-suite bathroom with a walk-in shower and a deep soaking tub.

You indeed wouldn't need to get out there, except to eat.

"Your things are in the closet" he started. "You didn't bring a lot of things, so I guess you'll bring the rest later?"

"No, that's it" you whispered.

Jungkook stopped for a second, shocked about the fact that you only brought a medium suitcase and the bag you were carrying to pack up all of your things. It wasn't like he was expecting a full suitcase display from you, but certainly not something so minimal.

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything," Jungkook said, lingering in the doorway. His eyes softened, his earlier bravado fading just a little. "Seriously. Anything."

For a brief second, the air between you shifted. He wasn't teasing or smug. He just looked... sincere.

You hesitated, feeling the strange urge to say something more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you gave him a small nod. "I'll be fine."

He smiled faintly, stepping back. "Alright. Settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

As he walked away, you closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

But then again, with Jungkook, nothing ever stayed calm for long.

The first month of marriage was nothing short of a battlefield.

It didn't take long for every small interaction to turn into a heated argument. Jungkook always had something to say -sharp and sarcastic, ready to push your buttons at every opportunity. You were no better, meeting his smug remarks with icy glares and curt responses. It became a game, a war of words and wills, with neither of you willing to surrender.

There were good moments, but they were fleeting. It started with you finding out Jungkook filled up your closet with different clothes and accessories, adding up to the small suitcase you first brought. And it slowly evolved into a laugh shared over breakfast when Jungkook nearly burned his toast. A surprisingly comfortable evening spent watching a movie in silence, where the tension seemed to ease just a little. But those moments were always overshadowed by the endless tug-of-war that followed.

It was exhausting, that constant dance of hostility and fleeting truce.

Every day felt like a test of who could push the other further without breaking. The house, despite its size, felt stifling. His presence lingered in every room -a constant reminder that your marriage was nothing more than a cage disguised as luxury.

And today, you'd had enough.

The argument started in the kitchen that morning, over something as trivial as a set of misplaced car keys. It escalated far too quickly, voices rising, accusations flying.

"You always think you can control everything," you snapped, crossing your arms.

Jungkook leaned against the counter, his jaw tightening. "Control? I'm trying to help you, but you treat everything I say like it's some personal attack."

"Because it always is!" you threw up your hands in frustration. "You don't know how to back off, Jungkook! You just keep pushing and pushing... Fuck, you don't let me breathe!"

"Maybe because you keep running away instead of facing things!" his voice dropped, low and sharp. "You're so obsessed with shutting me out that you can't even see when someone's trying to meet you halfway."

You stared at him, chest heaving, words caught in your throat. For a second, neither of you moved. The silence felt heavier than the argument itself.

Then, without a word, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs. You needed air, space, anything to escape that suffocating cycle.

In your room, you grabbed a coat and your purse, your hands trembling with frustration. Your eyes caught on your wedding ring, glinting in the sunlight. The sight of it only fueled the fire burning in your chest.

You slipped it off, the cool metal unfamiliar without the warmth of your skin beneath it. For a moment, you stared at the ring in your palm, your thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions.

Then you set it on the dresser and walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.

Jungkook was still in the kitchen when you came back down, his back to you. You didn't say a word as you grabbed your keys from the counter and headed for the front door.

The sound of your footsteps must have caught his attention because he turned around, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you said shortly, not slowing down.

"Without your ring?" his voice was calm, too calm. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused, hand on the door handle, refusing to turn around. "I need some time alone."

"And you think taking off your ring is the way to do that?" his footsteps echoed behind you, slow and deliberate. "Is this your idea of freedom?"

You finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes head-on. "What does it matter? It's not like this marriage is real anyway."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

For the first time in weeks, Jungkook didn't have a quick response. He just looked at you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place -hurt, maybe, or anger, or both.

"If you walk out that door without it," he said quietly, "don't expect me to come looking for you."

The threat was clear, but it only made your resolve stronger.

"Good," you said, voice steady. "That's exactly what I want."

And with that, you opened the door and stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

As you walked toward your car, your heart pounded in your chest. Part of you expected him to follow, to stop you. But when you glanced back, the door was already closed.

Maybe he didn't care enough to stop you after all. Although you wouldn't think too much about it. The more he ignored you, the more freedom you'd have.

The bar was harmonized with a low hum of conversation and soft music filling the air. You had no plan when you walked in -just an overwhelming need to be anywhere but at that house. You found a spot at the bar, ordering a drink and savoring the temporary escape it promised.

The alcohol warmed your throat and dulled the frustration swirling in your chest. One drink turned into two, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

"You look like you could use some company."

You glanced up to see a man standing beside you, his smile easy and confident. His eyes lingered on you just a little too long.

"Not really," you said, turning back to your drink.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, leaning in closer. "It's just a conversation. You shouldn't be alone in a place like this."

"I'm fine," you insisted, but he didn't seem to get the hint.

The air shifted before you could say anything else, a new presence filling the space behind you.

"She's not alone."

You froze at the familiar voice, low and commanding. Turning slightly, you found yourself face-to-face with Jungkook. His dark eyes were locked on the man, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating quiet danger.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And who are you?"

Jungkook's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Her husband."

The word hung in the air like a gunshot, silencing everything around you.

The man's eyes flicked between the two of you, suddenly less confident. "Right... well, my mistake." he backed away with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren't sure if it was from the alcohol or the way Jungkook's eyes hadn't left you once.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice calm but laced with barely restrained frustration. "But I guess taking off your ring and disappearing without a word answers that for me."

"I needed space," you said, crossing your arms. "You don't own me, Jungkook."

His eyes darkened. "You're right. I don't. But I'm still your husband. If you disappear in the middle of the night, I'll come looking for you. And if some creep thinks he can hit on you, then I'm going to do something about it."

You rolled your eyes, the alcohol emboldening you. "So this is about your ego?"

He took a step closer, the tension crackling between you. "No. It's about the fact that I care, whether you want to believe it or not."

His words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Let's go," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "It's late."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said stubbornly, turning back toward the bar.

Jungkook let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Fine. You want to be difficult? Have it your way."

Before you could react, his arm looped around your waist, and in one swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Jungkook!" you gasped, pounding your fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he muttered, already weaving his way through the crowd. Heads turned, curious eyes following the scene as you squirmed in his grip. "You brought this on yourself."

"Jungkook, I swear to God..."

"You can yell all you want," he said calmly. "We're leaving."

Once outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks -from anger or embarrassment, you weren't sure. Jungkook carried you all the way to his car, finally setting you down beside it.

"You're insane," you snapped, your breath coming fast as you straightened your clothes.

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I thought you'd have learned to love it by now."

For a moment, you stood there, caught in a standoff.

"Get in the car," he said softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice.

Your pride told you to refuse, to stand your ground and make this even more difficult. But something about the intensity in his eyes made you falter.

Wordlessly, you opened the car door and got in, your pulse still racing.

Jungkook slid into the driver's seat, starting the car without another word. The ride home was silent, the air between you charged with tension. You could feel his occasional glances, the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel every time your bare finger caught the light.

The ride home was silent. He didn't speak, and neither did you. But the weight of everything unsaid filled the car, pressing down on you both.

When you pulled up in front of the building, Jungkook finally broke the silence.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what you're thinking," he said, his voice low. "But if you want to leave, really leave, just say it. I'll let you go."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his eyes. It was the first time you'd seen him drop his guard like this.

But instead of answering, you opened the door and stepped out, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jungkook stayed in the car for a moment before following you inside. Neither of you said a word as you climbed the stairs, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

When you reached your room, you paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

"Goodnight," you said softly, your voice barely audible.

For once, Jungkook didn't have a clever comeback. He just nodded, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should have.

"Goodnight," he echoed, his voice rough around the edges.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you -something neither of you was ready to admit yet.

The tension between you and Jungkook had been palpable since that night. Every word, every glance, felt like a battle -a silent war that neither of you was willing to lose. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you found yourself trapped at one of his company's lavish parties, drowning in champagne and meaningless small talk.

It wasn't your kind of crowd. Polished executives and their equally polished partners swirled around you, exchanging pleasantries and hollow laughs. Being the accessory of the main character of the party wasn't your thing at all. You stood near the bar, sipping your drink, counting down the minutes until you could escape.

That's when you saw him, Jungkook, standing at the center of a group of people, commanding their attention with ease. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair perfectly styled, exuding the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away.

And then you noticed her.

She was standing beside him, too close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she laughed at something he said. A striking woman in a sleek red dress, her eyes sparkled with something far more than professional interest.

Your grip on your glass tightened as you watched her lean in, whispering something into his ear. To your horror, Jungkook didn't pull away. Instead, he turned toward her with a slow smile, his eyes dropping deliberately to her lips before meeting hers again.

It was a calculated move -one meant for your benefit. You knew it. He knew it.

Your stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous bubbling in your chest. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

You turned your back to him, willing yourself to focus on the conversation happening nearby. It was meaningless chatter, something about stock prices, but you latched onto it, pretending you didn't notice the way your pulse was racing.

"Jealous, love?"

The voice was low and teasing, right behind you. You didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Hardly," you said, taking a sip of your drink without looking at him. "Do what you want. I couldn't care less."

"Is that so?" Jungkook stepped into your line of vision, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Because it looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing your drink at her."

"More like two seconds away from smacking this glass on your head" you finally sentenced.

"That does sound like someone who's jealous"

You forced a smile, meeting his gaze head-on. "Please. If I wanted to make a scene, you'd know it."

Jungkook chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "Careful, Y/n. You might give me the wrong idea: that you actually care about me and what I do."

Your pulse jumped, but you refused to let him win. "Trust me, I don't." you narrowed your eyes while looking at him "Just be careful of how you behave in front of everyone. We're still married. In private, do whatever the fuck you please".

His smile was slow, almost predatory. "Good. Because I'd hate for you to get hurt playing a game you can't win."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You couldn't stop watching him: laughing, smiling, always with her by his side. Each glance felt like a deliberate push, a challenge to see how far you'd let him go.

By the time the party started winding down, you'd had enough. You grabbed your purse and made your way toward the exit, your steps quick and determined.

But before you could leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Running away again?" Jungkook's voice was calm, but his grip was firm.

"Let go," you said, your voice low and dangerous.

"Not until you admit it." His eyes locked onto yours, the amusement gone, replaced by something far more serious.

"Admit what?"

"That you care," he said simply.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with fury. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are," Jungkook said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Still standing in front of me". You didn't know when he stepped so close that your chests were pressed together and your breaths were mixing between you two "I'm only yours, love. You just need to ask me, and I'll declare to you my love without thinking twice".

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the party noise a distant hum. You hated how close he was, how easily he could get under your skin.

But you refused to give him what he wanted. Not tonight.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, ignoring the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

The car ride back was suffocatingly quiet. The air between you felt like a loaded gun, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. Jungkook's hands rested on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window in stubborn silence.

The tires crunched on the gravel as the car came to a stop in front of the building. You didn't wait for him to say anything -didn't even glance his way as you pushed the door open and strode toward the front entrance.

But the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, steady and deliberate, made your pulse quicken.

You barely made it inside when Jungkook's voice cut through the silence.

"Care to explain what that little stunt at the party was all about?" his tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

You spun around, glaring at him. "Are you seriously accusing me of something after what you pulled tonight? Flirting with her right in front of me?"

Jungkook smirked, stepping closer. "You noticed."

"Of course I noticed!" you snapped, your voice rising. "You made sure I would."

He shrugged, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Maybe. But you didn't have to leave the party like that, running off again like you always do. It's getting old, Y/n."

"Maybe it's because I can't stand being around you," you shot back, your voice trembling slightly with the force of your anger. "Did you think of that?"

Jungkook tilted his head, studying you. "No," he said quietly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. "I think you left because it bothered you. Because for once, you didn't have control, and it drove you crazy."

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Do I?" his voice was a whisper now, low and deliberate, each word wrapping around you like a challenge. "Then why are you shaking?"

You hated him for being right. Hated how easily he could strip away every layer of defense you had built.

"I'm not..."

"You are," he interrupted, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "And it's not because you're angry. It's because you feel something."

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out.

His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest moment before locking onto yours again. "Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll back off," he said softly. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll stop."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so hard it was almost painful.

But you couldn't say it.

The words wouldn't come.

Jungkook's smile was slow and triumphant. "That's what I thought."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious, your skin still burning from his touch.

"You're insufferable," you called after him, but your voice wavered, the heat of your frustration blending with something far more dangerous.

Jungkook stopped mid-step, his back still to you. For a split second, you thought he'd ignore you, that he'd let you stew in your own whirlwind of emotions.

But then he turned, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes locking onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey. His steps were measured, each one bringing him closer, the air between you thick with electricity.

"You know what's really insufferable?" his voice was low, almost a growl. "The way you keep running. The way you keep fighting me when we both know exactly how this will end."

Your breath caught in your throat as he came to a stop just inches from you, his body radiating warmth, his presence overwhelming.

"I'm not running," you said, though it sounded more like a whisper than the firm declaration you intended.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of heat racing through you.

The space between you disappeared in a heartbeat. His lips crashed against yours, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The kiss was anything but gentle -wild, desperate, and filled with every bit of frustration and desire that had built up between you.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing grounding you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, his grip possessive and unrelenting.

It felt better than anything neither of you could've ever imagined. It wasn't just a kiss -it was a battle, a collision of everything you didn't say, everything you'd tried to ignore.

His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before deepening the kiss. You gasped when he sank his tongue in your mouth, quickly meeting yours at the same time he cornered you on the wall next to the door, his hand gently cupping the back of your head before moving it back to your neck.

You hated him for making you feel this way, for always knowing how to push you to the edge and catch you before you fell.

But at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths were ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

"Say it," Jungkook whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "Say you don't feel anything."

You stayed silent, your lips still tingling from his kiss.

But the way your hands lingered on his chest, the way your body leaned into his, spoke louder than any words ever could.

He took your silence as the perfect answer, smirking to himself before he linked your lips together again. His fingers sank in your hair at the back of your head, twirling them on some locks to pull from them and throw your head to the side as he kissed you down your neck.

"You're absolutely everything I've ever fucking dreamed of" he heavily whispered on your skin. "I want to admire you, worship your body and make love to you so you'd meet a devotion you had never seen in your life. But hell... when you look at me that way..." his thumb brushed over your cheekbone "I want to ruin you so bad, show you no one will fuck you so good to make your ears beep so loud you won't be hearing your own pleas when you ask me to stop".

Your kiss grew more passionate, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, when he kissed you again. His hands began to wander, tracing the curve of your back, the swell of your hips. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and it sent a thrill through you, craving for something you didn't know you were desperate for. You moaned softly into his mouth, pressing yourself against him, at the same time his hands held your hips to keep your body glued to him.

Jungkook broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck again, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You arched my back, a soft sigh escaping your lips, when his fingers brushed against the little skin that was shown off through the cleavage of your dress. It frustrated you, but it also felt so good the way your body responded to his touch without a resistance, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your bra, your entrance clenching around nothing as you kept waiting to feel him inside you.

When he looked down at you once again, his hands moved down to the zip of your dress, his thumb brushing on your skin while his other fingers slid the material down. He didn't need to ask you, he didn't need to tell you, you helped him take off your dress.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching. You were definitely better than he could've ever imagined. No light pajamas would ever compare to the vision in front of him.

You reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling from the buttons to reveal his toned chest. Jungkook had to hold back the growl in his throat when you ran your fingers over the muscles, feeling the heat of his skin, making him sure your fingerprints were burning every inch you were moving through.

He wasn't going to let you take control so easily though.

He lowered his head all of a sudden, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth through the lace of your bra. You gasped, your hands fisting in his hair as a way to control your own self. He teased and suckled, his other hand cupping your breast before he dragged his fingers down with the fabric, exposing the flesh, his thumb rubbing against your nipple before he pinched it with his index. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body aching for more.

Jungkook slipped the straps of your bra off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He took his time, exploring every inch of your body with his mouth and hands. He made you squirm beneath him, he filled your head with pleas you never thought would ever be aimed at him, your body was on fire for him.

You reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly. He lifted his hips to help you, his jeans and boxers coming off in one swift motion. You looked down at him, your eyes widening at the sight of his hard length. He was thick and long, the tip glistening with pre-cum. You licked your lips when a sudden urge to taste him overwhelmed you. Was it how sexy he actually was? Or how bad you wanted him to beg for you and finally accept you were in control? Maybe both?

You leaned down on your knees, not wasting a moment before taking him into your mouth. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair as your tongue swirled around him. You sucked and licked, your head bobbing up and down at a tortuous speed. You could feel him getting harder, his hips thrusting gently. You took him deeper when he pushed you lower, your nose brushing against his skin to look up to him.

And hell, if that image wasn't the best sight ever...

He pulled you up with one swift motion, your lips still parted to the size of his length when he crashed his lips against yours again. Your back slammed against the door, and your head banged against it the moment he pulled your panties down and slid two fingers in you. His thumb brushed over your clit gently, slowly, which was opposite to the way his curved digits moved and rubbed against your walls.

He earned another moan from you, and his cock twitched in the air against your body once more.

"Who do you belong to, Y/n? Who owns you now?" his voice was thick and raspy as he whispered. His voice was a mix of cockiness and need to prove you always belonged to him.

The moment you tried to move your head forward to rest on his shoulder, his fingers wrapped around your throat and stuck your head against the wood to keep your eyes fixed on him.

You didn't know what to do with your arms, how to keep yourself on your feet, but you did know you had to keep your eyes fixed on him.

"My love" he almost sang when he felt the way your walls clenched around him and your clit throbbing "I've only been yours" his digits squeezed your throat tighter, unaware of how that dragged you closer to your orgasm.

Your body squirmed and folded under his grip when that hurricane hit you, yet he didn't stop. His movements were more delicate and slower, but he fingered you through your orgasm until he felt your breathing settling again.

Your lips were parted when his wet fingers slid through them, and you blindly obeyed, closing your mouth around his digits to lick every drop of his work of art. Jungkook barely gave you time to let go of them before his lips crashed against yours again, his tongue looking out for yours to taste you directly on it.

You were so addictive.

Jungkook picked you up effortlessly, humming at your legs wrapping around his waist, as he made his way to his bedroom.

When he let you down on his mattress, he couldn't help but admire the way your naked skin stood out so clearly while lying over his sheets, dying to twirl his fingers on those locks spread over his pillow. You brought in him a feral attitude he didn't know was so strong.

You looked up to him, eager for what was to come, your body ready to jump as he kneeled on the bed and crawled to you. His hands parted your legs easily, resting your calves on his thighs when he redirected his length to you.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, making your moan. "You're so wet," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Will you let me fill you up? Hmm?" he looked up to you while still rubbing himself against you "Let me mark you now that you've finally accepted that you're mine".

His words, the idea, the look in his eyes... all of them influenced you to finally nod.

He slid into you slowly, his eyes locked on yours. You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. He felt big, bigger than you could've guessed when you took him in your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, until your hips met and you both moaned with relief.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, giving the two of you time to get used to each other before he began to move, his hips thrusting against yours. The sound of your bodies coming together filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing around you. You could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet." he rubbed his nose on yours. "It was really worth it to wait for you".

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back. "Harder," you whispered, your body aching for more.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing in anticipation.

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit at the same time his lips found your mouth. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He continued to move, his own body tensing as he chased his own release. You felt him getting harder, his thrusts becoming more erratic. With a final thrust, he groaned, his body shaking as he came deep inside you, his load hitting a deep spot.

You lay there for a moment, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths ragged. He rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. And as much as that feeling felt foreign, you didn't push it away. Instead, you snuggled closer to him.

The weeks after that night were nothing like the stormy start of your marriage. Slowly, without even realizing it, you began to lower your defenses. Jungkook softened in his own way, his sharp-edged words losing their sting, replaced by warm glances and lingering touches.

It wasn't love -at least, that's what you told yourself- but it was something dangerously close. You found comfort in his presence, in the late-night conversations you shared after you agreed on sharing bed with him, the stolen moments of laughter, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

The night he was officially named the head of the company, the entire building was alive with celebration. People congratulated him left and right, raising glasses in his honor, praising his charm, his brilliance, and his unstoppable rise to power. You stood by his side, smiling softly as he greeted his investors and thanked his board.

But despite the glamour, something felt off. Jungkook was different -detached, colder than usual, like the man you first met. He didn't seem to notice your growing unease.

Later that evening, after slipping away for a moment to get some air, you made your way down a quieter hallway in the building. As you rounded a corner, voices stopped you in your tracks.

It was Jungkook's.

"You're really settling into this husband role, huh?" the voice was familiar -Eunwoo's, you realized after a second.

His tone was light and teasing, but it was what came next that made your blood run cold.

Jungkook let out a low chuckle. "Don't get carried away. This marriage means nothing. It was a deal, plain and simple. I finally got what I wanted"

There was a pause, followed by the sound of a glass clinking.

"And the rest?" Eunwoo asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Sleeping with her?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering painfully in your chest.

"That's just part of the game," Jungkook said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Keeping her close keeps everything in control. She's predictable now. She's exactly where I need her."

Your vision blurred, your mind racing to process what you'd just heard. Every moment you'd spent with him, every touch, every whispered word in the dark -it had all been a lie. A calculated move in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

The sound of their laughter echoed down the hallway, cutting into you like a blade.

You turned and walked away before they could notice you, your steps quick and unsteady. Your chest ached, a painful mix of anger and heartbreak constricting your lungs.

By the time you reached the main hall, the noise of the party felt like a distant hum, your surroundings spinning as you tried to catch your breath.

You thought you had started to know him. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was something real between you.

But you were wrong.

You were nothing more than a pawn in his game -a game you never agreed to play.

The rest of the night at the party, you avoided him like the plague, your attitude a huge contrast to how you behaved when the night had started. Whenever Jungkook tried to approach you, you found an excuse to step away -chatting with guests, refreshing your drink, even pretending to admire the floral arrangements like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Y/n" his voice caught you off guard as you lingered near the exit, your hand brushing the stem of an untouched champagne flute. Jungkook's dark eyes studied you, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on? You've been distant all night."

"I'm just tired," you said flatly, forcing a tight smile. "It's been a long day."

His frown deepened, but he didn't press further. Not yet.

The ride home was quiet -tense in a way that made the air between you feel suffocating. Jungkook sat beside you, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you, as if waiting for you to explain what was wrong. But you kept your gaze fixed out the window, your thoughts swirling in chaos.

Once you were back home, you made a beeline for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to put distance between you as you closed yourself back in your room.

"Y/n" his voice was sharp now, demanding. You stopped halfway up the stairs, your hand gripping the banister tightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze. The man you had once started to trust, the one who had held you so tenderly just nights ago, now felt like a stranger.

"I want a divorce."

The words fell from your lips with a finality that hung heavy in the air.

Jungkook froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," you said, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "You finally got what you wanted. You're head of the company now. There's no need to keep up this farce anymore."

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Is that what you think? That this was all just some business arrangement, and now it's over?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You've gotten everything you wanted, Jungkook. There's no point in pretending anymore."

"You're unbelievable," he growled, stepping closer. "You want to throw everything away just like that? After everything we've been through?"

You laughed bitterly. "What exactly have we been through, Jungkook? Lies? Manipulation? This marriage was never real. It was just a means to an end for you."

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And what if it wasn't?"

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him sway you. "It doesn't matter. I'm done."

"You're not done," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You don't get to decide that impulsively."

"It's not an impulse," you snapped. "This was part of our deal since the beginning. I've made up my mind."

Jungkook's eyes burned with fury, but beneath it, there was something else -something raw and unguarded. "And when exactly did you make up your mind about it, huh?" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I think it's better for both of us," you said, ignoring the way your heart clenched at the look in his eyes.

But Jungkook wasn't having it. His hand gripped the banister beside you, his body blocking your path. "No," he said firmly. "We're not done. Not until I say we are. And you're not leaving," Jungkook said, his voice steady but barely restrained, his body now fully blocking your path. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and unrelenting.

"Move, Jungkook," you said through gritted teeth, trying to push past him. "I'm done having this conversation."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist -not hard, but firm enough to keep you from walking away. "No. We're going to finish this right here"

You glared at him, your pulse racing. "What's the point? You made it clear I was just a means to an end. Now that you're head of the company, what reason is there for us to stay married?"

"Because this isn't just about the company!" Jungkook snapped, his voice rising, frustration boiling over. His chest heaved with each breath, and for the first time, he looked genuinely unhinged, like he was losing control of everything he'd carefully built.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "Then what is it about? What part of this marriage was real to you? Tell me!"

His silence was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching your face for something -anything. But no words came.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Exactly. You can't even answer that."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his frustration tipping into something dangerously possessive. "You really want to know what's real?" he said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. "You." his voice was low, his eyes burning into yours. "Every damn second with you was real"

But for some reason, those words that night felt like the most painful stab at your chest. If there was something clear to you that night, it was that Jungkook never really cared for you, but his own control over you. That idea alone made your head spin, trying to decipher if all of his words in that moment were part of the act as well.

His proximity sent a jolt of heat through you, but you refused to back down. "Words mean nothing, Jungkook. Actions do."

"Then watch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It wasn't soft or sweet -it was raw and consuming, a war between his frustration and desire. His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin.

You tried to fight it, to remind yourself of everything you'd just overheard, but your body betrayed you. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to push him away.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp from you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It felt like drowning, like falling too fast and too far, and you hated how easily he could unravel you.

When he finally pulled back, your hand slapped across his face, making it turn. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, until he finally moved his head back up, his eyes searching yours, dark and unreadable. "You think I don't care?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're wrong."

Your heart thundered in your chest, and for a fleeting moment, you believed him. You believed every word, every touch. But the sting of his earlier betrayal still lingered, refusing to let go.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not like this".

Not when you couldn't trust him, or know what he was saying was real or not. Not knowing when he was playing with you or showing off his feelings.

It was too much.

Jungkook's grip on you tightened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Yes, you can. You're not leaving."

"I don't want to be near you" you let go of his grip once again. "You disgust me. I can't even stand being near you right now. Who knows? Maybe it had always been like that and now that the reason that kept us together is gone I can be honest with the two of us. Be honest with yourself, too".

The next afternoon, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow across the marble countertops. You sat at the kitchen island, quietly picking at your lunch, your mind still tangled in the events of the previous night. Sleep had been elusive -every word, every touch, every kiss replaying in your head on an endless loop.

You were lost in thought when the sound of the front door slamming snapped you back to reality. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until Jungkook appeared in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of papers. He strode over to you and threw them onto the counter in front of you, the crisp white pages fanning out across the surface.

Your heart stopped for a second as you glanced down at them: "Divorce Agreement". Signed.

"You wanted this, right?" Jungkook said, his voice cold and biting. "There. You've got it. Congratulations, you're free."

You looked up at him, stunned into silence, your fork frozen in mid-air. His eyes were like shards of ice, his usual warmth completely gone. He looked almost... victorious, but underneath it, you could sense something else, some of his vulnerability was still obvious in his eyes.

"Jungkook, I..."

"You don't need to say anything" he interrupted, his voice dangerously calm. "You made it clear last night that this marriage means nothing to you. So, I'm giving you what you want. No more pretending. No more games."

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice. "You think this is what I want?" you finally said, your voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You were the one who asked for the divorce. I'm just making it easy for you."

You swallowed hard, your throat burning. "You're unbelievable."

Jungkook crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a bitter smirk. "No, what's unbelievable is that you think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want. You're the one who pushed me away, Y/n. I'm just giving you the freedom you begged for."

"Don't you dare act like you're some kind of victim here," you snapped, rising to your feet. "You lied to me, acting like you cared, like you were into me. You said you were after me long before all of this happened... Bullshit! You used me for your business, just like you admitted to Eunwoo. But I was dumb as fuck to believe we were more than that".

His eyes flickered with something -surprise, perhaps, or regret- but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same infuriating calm. "So, that's what this is about," he muttered. "You overhear one conversation, twist it in your head, and suddenly I'm the villain?"

"I didn't twist anything," you said, your voice shaking. "I heard exactly what you said. That I'm just a pawn in your game. That sleeping with me was just part of your plan. Hope you enjoyed the bit of control you had while you fucked me."

Jungkook laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "You really think that's all you are to me?"

"Isn't it?" you challenged, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Tell me I'm wrong."

The silence that followed was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back, his expression hardening.

"You already made up your mind," he said quietly. "So what's the point in convincing you otherwise?"

Your breath caught in your throat, tears stinging your eyes. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to tear down the walls he had so carefully built around himself in less than a few days. But instead, all you could do was stand there, your heart breaking all over again.

"Fine," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "If that's how you want it."

He nodded once, his face devoid of emotion. "It's what you wanted, remember?"

Annoyed, you reached for a pen, signing up the papers next to him, slamming it against the table before getting up and walking away, leaving the papers on the counter in front of him. The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house, and for the first time since the start of your marriage, you felt truly alone.

[mvctavish]

𝐓𝐅 𝟏𝟒𝟏 - 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓

summary: headcanons for each members' reaction to you telling them you're pregnant

cw: afab!reader, pregnancy (duh), mentions of pregnancy symptoms (like nausea, vomiting) but nothing graphic, slight angst for some parts, established relationship, mentions of sex (?)

capt. john price

౿ ۪ ݁ honestly? price couldn't be happier. he always thought of himself as a family man, seeing himself as a father of (hopefully) many kids. he's overjoyed as you greet him when he gets home from a long and grueling deployment, wanting nothing more than to relax in your arms and go to sleep in his own bed. however, when you say the words "i'm pregnant" and showcase the sonogram, his heart nearly triples in size. that's his baby. you're carrying his baby, and he swears this is the best moment of his entire life. he whispers praises in your ear as he holds you tight, a large and heavy hand gently resting on your abdomen, thumb stroking your skin the fabric of your - his - shirt. he's truly never been happier. you, his darling girl, is harboring a precious life that blossomed from your love for each other. you just know he's going to be the best father your kid could hope for.

sgt. kyle "gaz" garrick

౿ ۪ ݁ kyle doesn't know what to say at first. he was the one that convinced you to take a pregnancy test in the first place - you'd been nauseous and fatigued for the past few days, and he noticed. he noticed each and every thing about you, from your slightly irritable mood to the tiny changes of your body. he never expected the test to come back positive, the two little lines on the stick staring up at the both of you. he's scared, just as scared as you, but he knows he needs to stay strong, at least for now. "it's gonna be alright, angel," he'd reassure you, taking your form into an embrace. he's oh so gentle, handling you like porcelain now that he knows his baby is growing in your womb. "we'll get through this together, ya hear, love?" he kisses your forehead. whatever you decide to do, he's there for you. despite his initial fears, the thought of having a baby with you excites him. you best bet that if you aren't married already, you'll have a ring on your finger by the end of the week.

sgt. john "soap" mactavish

౿ ۪ ݁ johnny has never felt so unprepared in his life. he's always so, so careful with you, hoping to avoid situations like... this. it's not that he's upset, no, he isn't angry. just unprepared. he doesn't feel fit to be a father, not yet. it's a lot of responsibility and an entire lifetime of commitment - and johnny doesn't want to let down his future child. though, the more he thinks about it, the more he begins to warm up to the idea of fatherhood. maybe you'll have a little lass with his eyes and your fiery attitude, or perhaps a lad with your nose and his spunk - whoever your child ends up being, he knows he'll love them unconditionally. just as he loves you. it does take him a few weeks to come around. at first, he'd drink his worries away at the pub, ranting to ghost or whomever else will listen. he's just stressed, and that stress never really goes away, but a stronger feeling of pride and excitement takes over. he's going to be a da! he knows you'll be a damn good mother, and he even takes an extra long leave to help around the house. he doesn't want you to lift a finger while you're pregnant (even though you're not even showing yet). before the baby is even born, he proves himself to be a very capable father.

lt. simon "ghost" riley

౿ ۪ ݁ when you break the news to him, simon is instantly afraid. memories of his own childhood come flooding back to him, and a new fear settles inside of him. he's always been afraid of turning out like his old man, and now that you're pregnant with his baby, there's a whole nother person that he could let down. he doesn't want that to happen - doesn't want his baby to suffer as he'd done. he makes a silent promise, both to you and the baby, that he'd always be there and present. he loves you more than anything, but the revelation has him growing distant for the first few months. whenever you bring up the topic of possible baby names, or ask to look at clothes at the shops, he tenses and responds in very short answers. it's abundantly clear that he's scared, and you don't really blame him. it isn't until you speak to him in the privacy and safety of your shared bedroom does he confess. "i'm just worried about turning into my father," his voice is uncharacteristically quiet, light eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he tries to blink away some unshed tears. "i don't want to hurt you, bunny, or the baby." he glances down at your abdomen, and you guide your hand to it. you have to reassure him many times that he's nothing like his father. it isn't until he comes with you to one of your appointments that he finally accepts that as a fact. when he hears your baby's heartbeat on the monitor, he knows deep in his heart that he'd do anything to protect you both.

[cupidbedsy]

𝜗𝜚 drunken nights ; into you

➪ summary: after a long week, y/n just wants to unwind and luke looks after her when things get a little out of hand

➪ warnings: reader is an emotional and very clingy drunk

➪ word count: 2.1k

➪ cupid's notes: i am so so excited for everything that comes out of this au! if you want, please keep sending in thoughts and asks and yeah. i hope you guys enjoy

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

It had been way too long of a week for her, tests upon tests, assignment after assignment, and worst of all she had barely seen Luke all week. At first, the idea of getting up and getting ready for a party she knew she would only halfway enjoy seemed exhausting but then the thought of being able to unwind and see Luke made its way into her mind and she wasted no time in starting to do her makeup. 

Dressed in one of her favorite short black skirts, a blue corset top, with her leather jacket thrown on and her knee-high black boots adorning her feet, she let her friends drag her out of their dorm and down the stairs, heading for the car. 

She was silent almost the whole way there, the lingering stress and anxiety still flowing through her head. If it wasn’t for the idea of seeing Luke tonight, she would’ve let the uneasiness consume her entirely. 

She was so in her head that she didn’t even realize that they parked outside of the Frat house that was hosting the party that night. She could hear the music from outside, watching as the lights flickered within the house and people hung out on the lawn. 

She gripped her best friend’s hand tightly, walking through the crowded house towards the kitchen where all the drinks were. She watched as her friend poured her her first drink of the night, taking it gratefully and sipping on it. 

Luke was in the middle of a game of beer pong, laughing with a few of his frat boys, running a hand through his hair when he felt something within him shift. It was the same feeling he got whenever y/n showed up, whenever he would lay eyes on her, whenever she brushed her fingers against his arm. 

His eyes worked overtime trying to find her, looking from the other side of the living room to the front door. He frowned when he didn’t see her, immediately going to scan the house again, but that’s when he saw her, tipping her head back as she finished her drink and reaching out to grab another one from her friend. 

He mumbled an ‘excuse me’ before making his way over to her, pushing through people to do so. They had been texting any chance they got meaning he knew how stressed she had been the entirety of the week and now seeing her tip back the drink as fast as she did, he knew that she would be downing drinks like there was no tomorrow. 

He threw an arm around her as soon as he approached, taking the drink from her hand, “Hey.”

She frowned when the cup left her grasp, looking up at him with her signature doe eyes, whining, “Lukey.”

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“You took my drink.”

He laughed at her pout, bringing her closer to his side so he could press a kiss to her temple, “I did. How many have you had already?”

“I just got here, that’s my second one.”

He gave her a skeptical look but relented nonetheless, handing her the drink back. He watched the people around them before turning his attention back to her, “How’re you doing?”

“Okay.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows at the short answer, expecting at least something other than okay. He maneuvered her so she was standing in front of him, making her stare up at him. His eyes trailed over her face, making note of every single freckle, eyelash, curve, and contour of her face, “What’s wrong?”

“A little stressed still. Have a bunch of things to do this weekend still.”

“Which means you want to drink to your heart’s content don’t you?”

Y/n gave him a pleading look, “Just for tonight? Please, Lukey.”

She watched as he mulled over the thought in his mind, studying his damp curls and the bead of sweat falling down the side of his face. She took in his appearance while she waited, his unbuttoned dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and his khaki shorts that sat just above his knees. 

“Fine.” 

She was snapped out of her trance at his single word, giving him a grateful smile as she raised on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek before downing her drink. He sighed in return, knowing that this was going to be a long night. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

And he was right, she drank drink after drink, giggling like a little schoolgirl with each one she had. He had forgotten about how she was when she was drunk, the cute little laugh she couldn’t stop releasing, her contagious smile, and her clingy nature. 

Y/n reached for another drink but Luke’s hand encompassed hers and took it into his own, bringing it to his chest as she glared at him. He grinned, dumping the cup’s contents down the sink and wrapping his arms around her waist, bringing her to his chest, “I think it’s time we get you home, pretty girl.”

“But I’m having fun.” Her whine was barely loud enough for him, he had to bend down just so he could hear her words. 

“And you’re not going to have any fun tomorrow if you keep having fun tonight. C’mon, let’s go.”

She only giggles again, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, “You’re pretty, Lukey.”

A smirk takes over his features, looking down at her curiously, “Is that so, princess?”

“Mhm. The prettiest,” she states matter-of-factly, tugging at one of his curls again. 

“You’re so drunk, baby.” He murmurs, kissing her forehead.

“I’m telling the truth!”

“And how can I be sure you’re not bluffing? You gonna prove it to me?”

“I will.”

“And how will you manage to do that?” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, his face still set in his usually cocky smugness. 

“You’ll find out. Just you wait, Luke Hughes.”

“Oh, I will be.”

A silence falls between them, or about as silent as you can get with music still blaring through multiple speakers and people yelling over said music. And after a few minutes, y/n could feel the tiredness creeping up on her causing her to shuffle closer to her best friend, laying her head on his chest, “Lukey?”

He wrapped her arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on her head, “Yeah, y/n/n?”

“Can we go now?”

He chuckled but nodded, “‘Course we can, c’mon.” His hand falls to her lower back, guiding her out of the house and down the street to where his truck was parked, helping her into the passenger seat. 

He walked around to the other side, climbing into the truck himself, stealing a glance over at her, and confusion flashing across his face when he saw the pout on her lips, “What’s wrong, pretty girl? Too much to drink?”

“Wanna sit by you.”

He raised an eyebrow, drawing his hand back from the keys that were in the ignition, “You want to sit by me?”

She just nodded, a determined feeling washing over her. He threw his head back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of a way to break it to her that she wouldn’t be able to sit in his lap. It had been so long since she had been this drunk that he had forgotten how clingy she got, and how sad she got when she didn’t get her way. 

“Y/n/n you can’t sit in my lap.” He stated softly, looking over at her. 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m driving, it’ll not only put you in danger but me as well. Just gotta wait a few minutes, sweet girl, and then you can cuddle me and sit in my lap as much as your heart desires.”

She whined again, “That’ll take too long.”

A chuckle escaped him, letting his hand move to settle on her thigh, “It won’t be more than 10 minutes, hell it probably won’t even be five.”

Y/n knew he was right, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be right. She stared back at him, trying to assert some level of authority over him but the challenging look he was giving her was enough to make her sink back into the seat, “Fine.”

“Good girl.” He squeezed her thigh, leaning over to kiss her temple before starting his truck and pulling away from the curb. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Luke had to drag her upstairs, y/n letting him carry most of her body weight as she rested against him. The two came to a stop at his room, y/n waiting as he opened the door, leading her to sit down on his bed. She watched him carefully as he picked a few things off the ground, mostly dirty clothes, and placed them where they should be. 

He could feel her gaze on him but he paid no mind to it, continuing to tidy up as best as he could. When he finished, he turned back to her, smiling softly as her eyes opened and closed. He walked over to her, placing his index finger beneath her chin and tilting her head up so she was looking at him through hazy eyes, “Tired, princess?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s get you changed then, yeah?”

She just nodded in response, letting him move to grab one of his T-shirts from his drawer and an extra pair of sleep shorts she kept at his. He handed them to her but she just gave him a look of helplessness. He chuckled, “You want me to help?”

“Please.”

“Alright, baby.” He took the clothes from her again, placing them beside her on the bed, slipping her jacket off, and throwing it on the chair in the corner. 

His fingers skimmed her stomach as he went to take her shirt off, cooing softly, “Arms up.”

She did as she was told, lifting her arms so he could easily slide the shirt off of her, doing the same thing he did with her jacket. He tugged her skirt down before putting her shorts on and letting the t-shirt fall over her frame. 

“Better?”

“Mhm.” She moved to curl up on his bed, bringing the comforter around her, letting the heat surround her. 

Luke changed into a random pair of sweatpants, throwing his shirt in the laundry basket, and kissing her forehead, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Where you going?”

“Gonna get you some water and some meds so you’re head doesn’t hurt in the morning.”

“Quick?”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick.”

She nodded, snuggling into the bed as he left the room, practically running down the steps to the kitchen. 

And just like he promised, he was back within three minutes, two glasses of water and a few pills that he rested on his nightstand. He coaxed her into sitting up, letting her sit between his legs so her back was flush with his chest. 

“Drink.” He pressed the glass to her lips, urging her to take soft sips.  She sighed as the cool liquid went down her throat, relaxing even further into him. 

Once she finished the glass, he let her lay back down, him following in her steps, pulling her against him, “Get some sleep.”

Some time in between the time he left and when he got back, a small burst of energy made its way into her, causing her to turn over to face him, a small smile on her face, “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Wanna stay with you.”

“You were going to sleep with me here anyway, baby.”

“I want to stay awake and talk to you.” A frown graced her lips, pouting once again. 

Butterflies erupted in his stomach, looking at her in awe, “That’s sweet of you princess, but you need your rest.”

She nodded, the energy she got quickly fading, but one question lingered in her mind, “Lu?”

“What’s up?”

“I’m your best friend right?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “‘Course you are. Why’re you asking?”

“Just wondering.”

“Now tell me the real reason.”

“I dunno, just- would you go out with someone else?”

He softened, “I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re mine, y/n/n.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up slightly, her mind and body still letting the alcohol affect them. 

“Yep, all mine, baby.”

She didn’t say anything more, just snuggled into him once again, drifting off to sleep almost instantly. Luke knew she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, the only thing she would have as a reminder would be the pounding headache once she woke up.

꒰ INTO YOU TAGLIST ꒱

@fantillisgirl @hughesmedicine @jjgsunflower @kaydesssssssss

INTO YOU MASTERLIST ; AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[frequentlybald]

Pink Rabbit | Lads Caleb/Reader

Credits to @Silverelitist on X for the cute picture

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You didn’t exactly know what to expect when you invited Caleb to work out with you at the gym. He looked different from before after all, the lean athletic build that had kept bullies at bay had grown…bigger. Toned abdomen gave way to sculpted abs that you had somehow noticed under the fabric of his clothes because how could you not? Legs muscular and thick under the fabric of his black denim jeans, his back was big enough to dwarf you and when he moved you swore you could see the muscles flexing there, begging to be touched. But what always left you flushed and hopelessly distracted were his arms. 

Had he always had such nice arms and you never noticed?

There as he completed his last set of pushups before switching to do them one handed like the complete and utter show off he was, those delicious fibers beneath his skin constricted to pull mesmerizing striations across flesh, a pattern for your eyes to feast on as you trailed your gaze up that oh so thick vein on the side of his arm. You wiped the sweat from your brow, panting softly as you stubbornly kicked up the settings of the treadmill you were finishing up your cardio training for. 

You needed a distraction, and fast. 

Caleb grunted left arm straining with his weight and yet he stayed effortlessly smooth, bobbing up and down from your peripherals as you tried desperately to focus on the sound of the tv speakers. 

Didn’t gyms usually play loud music that you could hear over your headphones? Why was this one so quiet?

Save for the soft sounds of a few patrons talking and the clinking of weight machines it felt like all you could hear was the droning of the tv news station doing nothing to cover the sounds that Caleb was making. You risked a glance black, face flushed when in between reports of increased wanderers you heard another strained groan. 

Fuck he was so vocal. You don’t remember that from when you had to share a P.E. field. 

Caleb switched sides, veins swollen and prominent on his left arm as he tucked it neatly behind his back, he was already back to work, pressing his chest nearly to the floor in steady, slow, bends of his elbow. 

You wondered if he was using his evol a little just to flaunt, seemed likely given how often he used his evol to tease you. 

He paused, another low groan slipping past his lips, his face rosy from the strain as he held himself in a plank to catch his breath. This was usually when you would make some teasing remark about him needing to do more cardio if he was out of breath, but you found yourself at a loss of words when he glanced up at you, catching you staring at him in that skin tight compression tank that the Caleb you knew would have never picked out. He had always worn hoodies for you to steal off him and even underneath there would be a t shirt at least, now it seemed that the Colonel’s wardrobe was majority sleeveless. 

Fuck he really was a show off, and he was smirking at you while you were still staring at how his biceps were bulging. “Enjoying the show pipsqueak?” That look that always said he was flirting with danger reappeared in eyes, you didn’t know what the danger was but at this point it was going to be you because you were already on mile six and felt like you had a nuclear amount of energy to burn. 

Stupid fucking Caleb and his stupid fucking muscles. 

You kept jogging, shoes thumping on the worn rubber tracks beneath you. “If you didn’t want spectators you shouldn’t have decided to do your pushups right infront of the treadmills.” You couldn’t help the indignation creeping into your tone, you hated feeling embarrassed and Caleb specialized in delivering nothing but that. He kept his head tilted up, looking at you with a raised eyebrow that you knew meant that whatever you had said had amused him. 

“C’mon I know you like to watch.” He winked and sat back on his heels, tilting his head back to take a sip of his metal Fleet water bottle you had covered in stickers. You sucked your teeth and glanced away to check the monitor display of the treadmill. You had just finished off your seventh mile and were more than a little...heated. Hitting the stop button on the machine, you slowed to a halt and reached for your towel to wipe the sweat cooling on your skin under the chilly ac vents. 

Caleb really was an ass sometimes.

The towel was just out of reach, dangling in the air against all laws of gravity. You reached for it, helplessly, letting out a meager sore legged hop that left you about three inches still too short. “Caleb!” You turned to face him, flushed face already scrunched in a displeasured pout. He was still leaning back on his legs, looking entirely too amused for your liking. You let out another whine, reaching again just for the towel to still be out of reach. “Because of your stunts I’m using the shower first.” You all but spat out, of course it did nothing to get Caleb to drop the towel and finally end his relentless teasing. 

Caleb’s amusement was unchanged, a smug grin slipping over his lips as his right brow quirked up again. “You know I don’t mind a little cold shower.” Of course he doesn’t, he’s a psychopath who takes cold showers during winter just to press his cold hands onto the warm skin of your back as soon as he’s dressed. 

You huff, deciding with finality that the towel is not worth it and you can just grab another from the rack by the lockers before you head back home to your apartment. You had been meaning to do a little cleaning because god knows despite his apartment in Skyhaven being a spotless, desolate, wasteland, he had a habit of leaving his sour candy wrappers all over your living room. “Whatever, keep the damn towel.” You muttered before darting away to grab your things from the lockers. 

______________________________________________________________

The walk back to your apartment was brisk, and like you had warned, you were the first to use the shower. You were busy lathering soap into your hair, doing your best to keep your thoughts as clean as your body was getting, but it was pointless. The sound of Caleb’s groans kept filling your ears until your eyes were blurring, echoing in your head like a dirty lullaby. 

A song you just can’t get rid of. 

It’s probably what he wanted, he was a tease by nature. Sure he flirted, showed off, but it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything when he had practically begged for you to move in with him moments after reuniting and it didn't mean a thing when he  reluctantly agreed to settle on visits. But even that was growing more infrequent, you were busy as most hunters were, you had cancelled on visit plans a few more times than you liked to admit. But whether or not it was the distance, Caleb has been more forward recently. 

Maybe behind all that teasing there was a genuine interest there, but why would you fuck up a decade long friendship trying to figure that out, he was practically your brother. 

Was he though? You had been ogling him like he was on display at the gym. 

You rinsed away soap suds from your hair, smoothing water away from your face as you debated whether or not anything was there at all. It could be a fluke, a byproduct of suddenly losing one of the most important people in your life and then gaining them back just as quickly. Maybe the naive you from your childhood that was convinced Caleb would be the man you marry, the man who takes all your first, died with Caleb that day at grandma’s house. You had grown up a little without him, met new people, other men.

You didn’t need him. Even if he still wanted you to. 

Of course all of that changed when you padded out into the hall, glancing off handedly as you barely towel dried your hair to see him scrolling on his phone on the couch, still dressed in sweaty gym clothes with the shirt noticeably missing. Those shorts were short, hiking up his muscular thighs to scrunch right where thigh met hip, bare chest on display without a care in the world. 

You reminded yourself as you felt your face heating, you had seen Caleb plenty of times without a shirt. But you were still suddenly full of need, thighs pressing together as you plopped down on the other side of the couch. 

“Did'ya enjoy your shower pipsqueak?” Caleb hadn’t looked up from his phone yet and you already wanted to roll your eyes at the nickname

Pipsqueak, like you were some little kid, still the little girl he would hide the snacks out of reach for. No, that wasn't you. You weren’t a pipsqueak anymore, you were a woman and maybe, just maybe, you did need this new version of Caleb, even if it wasn’t exactly for the same purposes as the old version. Your lips parted, and you were about to deliver an enlightening rebuttal when Caleb interjected. 

“You didn’t dry your hair properly.” His phone was discarded beside him and for a moment your thoughts faltered as you wondered what exactly he had been so engrossed in looking at on there he hadn’t noticed your hair being wet when you sat down. Caleb tutted, like he was scolding a wayward child and you already felt yourself cooling off, the neediness that was between your thighs dulling until it was a low ache that only spiked up when your eyes left Caleb’s for longer than three seconds. 

Letting out a soft sigh you gave him an exasperated look. “Gonna dry it for me?” But Caleb already was pulling the towel from around your shoulders where it was protecting your oversized sleep shirt from being stained by falling water droplets. 

He leaned forward as he ruffled your hair with Terry cloth, that playful smirk on his lips as he let out a huff of mock offense. “M’ that predictable am I?” You simply rolled your eyes hoping that your silence was punishment enough as he swiped the towel against the back of your neck to dry off the water dripping under your t shirt collar. He was gentle, like always, taking all the time in the world just to do a simple act of service for you. While you feigned annoyance he knew you liked it anyways. 

“Do ya’ usually train so hard at the gym?” He asked softly. You hadn’t even noticed how your eyes had fluttered closed under his ministrations but when you opened them you met his gaze. 

“Mmm…Usually not quite so hard but Pumpkin Magus has been giving me a run for my money recently.” It was a flimsy excuse, Pumpkin Magus barely lasted a second on the other side of your gun, not like it stopped him from popping back up to wreak havoc. No, you had really been working so hard in the gym to stop you from thinking about what it would feel like to have your child hood best friend wrap those big arms around your waist as he was fucking up into you. Your face flushed and Caleb, who was always observant when it came to you, got that look again in his eye. The one that told you it was time to look up the cost of funeral arrangements. Just incase. 

The hand that had been drying your hair with the towel, feathered down your jaw with the faintest ghost of touches. It made your skin prickle with goose bumps and your brows lift questioningly. “Pumpkin Magus huh? Ain’t that kinda small fry for a big bad hunter like you?” His voice was low, hands resuming the task of drying your hair. “Still keep the blow dryer under the sink short stack?’ 

You nodded, watching as his headed back to the steamy bathroom, bare back filling your gaze as Caleb dug in the the sink cabinet before pulling out a blow dryer you haven’t used since you moved into your own place. You chewed your lip, debating the merits of arguing when the loud sound of the blow dryer running would surely keep Caleb quiet at least. He settled back on the couch, holding open outspread arms, the blow dryer plugged into the wall and resting on the coffee table. You stared at his outstretched arms before reluctantly settling against his chest as loud whirring filled the room. 

Caleb was touchy, one hand holding the blow dryer while the other switched between parting your hair to get between the layers and resting on your thigh, massaging muscles you hadn’t even realized were sore. Of course Caleb's hand on your inner thigh and a soft complaint against your ear for you to look down so he could dry the back of your head properly meant the only thing you could really stare at besides yourself was Caleb’s hand. 

At least they felt somewhat familiar, calloused from sports teams and weightlifting, big and warm, and…vascular. He had the kind of hands that were catalogued in one of those Reddit fetish pages. Blessedly long fingers with perfectly oblong nails trimmed short and always kept clean. Maybe you should have worn those new pajama pants you ordered online instead of old sleep shorts that barely covered anything when you sat down because your breath audibly hitched when Caleb’s thumb started to stroke lazy circles on the sensitive flesh just before he really hit the danger zone.  

Fuck. what was happening?

Caleb is just being touchy, like always. 

You repeat it to yourself over and over, like a mantra on loop instead of the sound of him groaning when his arms started to shake during pushups. 

You were the one who was being weird. 

But this whole situation was absurd wasn't it? Your childhood best friend blew up in front of your eyes, literally, and somehow miraculously survived without telling a single soul who was left to care about him.

Namely you. 

Suddenly arousal faded into that bitter hurt that always accompanied anger. You preferred it this way, it made actual sense. It wasn't some fleeting vision of Caleb bending you over the counter, Caleb using his evol to keep you pinned to the bed while he ate you out just cause he liked it. 

Fuck would he like it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the blow dryer shutting off, a sudden heavy muteness filling into your apartment. You shifted in Caleb’s lap, silently pleading for him to say something…Anything. He stayed uncharacteristically silent, eyes trained on your face. Tilting your head back, you looked up at him.

He was looking at you with pure adoration, like you were something so precious he was grateful you existed at all. 

You nervously lifted a hand to your face, cheeks flushing as you realized just how close you were. “Thanks.” You chirped the word out, cheeks puffing out as you debated whether or not he would let you slide out of his lap without a cheeky comment. 

Caleb just chuckled softly, hand coming up to ruffle the hair he had just worked so hard to dry off. “Mhmm, Ya’ know I’ll always take care of you pipsqueak.” He sounded like the Caleb you remembered, the Caleb you could depend on, and now you felt like you never really knew him at all. Still, it wasn't something you wanted to bring up, you wanted to enjoy your vacation days for just a little while longer before everything blew up. Caleb would be hurt, you would feel bad for hurting him because somewhere in whoever he is now, he’s still your Caleb. He’s still the little boy who took care of you when you scraped your knee, who always bought two of everything just because of you.

You feigned annoyance, although a fair amount of it was genuine. “Quit calling me pipsqueak, I’m not a little kid anymore.” Caleb’s head tilted to the side, right brow twitching upwards and you knew you were in for it. 

His hands slid off where they were resting on the couch cushions, creeping past your lower back before wrapping around your waist to roughly tug you to his chest. His chin rested in between your neck and shoulder and you could already feel your pulse racing. “That’s not true, you’ll always be my baby.” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck as he spoke, voice a low deep rumble with just enough of a teasing lilt at the end that it didn’t exactly sound flirtatious but made you feel like it was. He buried his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply before speaking again, voice muffled by your skin. “The little baby I always gotta take care of ‘cause you need me.” 

Was he…Nuzzling you?

With a flushed face and a quick excuse you were already attempting to escape his grip but he flexed his biceps and you were squeezed in. “Obviously I did fine without you.” You reply with as much snark as you can muster. You’re thankful he can’t see your face right now although with the feeling of weightlessness growing you guessed that was about to change.

He’s using his fucking evol to spin you around so you’re straddling his lap to face him. Your face is lit up red like the apple stickers decorating his water bottle by the couch on the floor. It’s all you can bear to look at when gravity finally returns and you’re plopped right where he wants you. 

On his lap, having to look at him. 

But you look anything but happy about the new seating arrangement. Lips pulled in a frown you only ever get when he’s the one who riled you up. But Caleb looks like how he always does.

In control. 

“What? M’ I not taking good care of my sweet girl?” His lips were already curled into that grin he used when he was trying to butter you up. 

His sweet girl? When did he say shit like that? When did he call you anything other than some variation of pipsqueak? 

At least he wasn't calling you pipsqueak. 

You shifted again in his lap, growing fidgety. This conversation was quickly moving into deeper waters with how hard your heart was pounding and how red your face bloomed.

The problem was Caleb was persistent. 

You had to get rid of him to give yourself time to cool off. You made a show of sniffing the air, nostrils flaring as you scrunched up your face in mock revulsion. “Caleb…You smell, and you’re all sweaty from the gym. Go shower.” Caleb didn’t move, he just stared at you, eyes strangely intense in a way that made you feel pinned to the spot. 

He wasn't even using his evol.

After a silent moment of the two of you just staring at each other, Caleb acquiesced, sliding you off his lap and back onto the couch with his hands on your thighs even though he could have just used his evol to move you without lifting a finger. “M’kay boss, whatever you say.” 

You huffed. That didn’t sound like he was admitting defeat like usual. But still, you watched his back as he retreated to the bathroom and started the shower. 

He called you fucking sweet girl and baby all on the day you start really noticing him as something other than your childhood friend Caleb. And it all feels like a trap somehow. Like he’s trying to dangle sweets in front of your face again. 

You could be persistent too.

______________________________________________________________

Your apartment was always cozy at night, a far cry from Caleb’s back in Skyhaven. Since Caleb was staying for a whole week the two of you settled into a routine. Caleb cooked dinner in his pjs, you joined him to eat while watching plane disaster videos because one thing you had in common was morbid curiosity. Eventually it would switch into deep dives about streamers with crazy enough allegations to make the both of you side eye each other. And then you would head to your bed in your room and leave Caleb to sleep on the couch. 

Although, when you walked out of your bedroom, eager for dinner, slippers scuffing softly against your apartment floors, you paused at the end of the hall looking out on the open concept living room and kitchen. Caleb was cooking in just boxers now. 

Your face flushed, just when you had finally decided you could finally be normal around him he has to show off again. 

Caleb was such an asshat it was unbelievable. 

And now your emotions were warring between the classic ‘LHL What is it?’ Scenario. Love, Hate, or Lust? You couldn’t make sense when it felt like all three. Taking a deep breath until you felt the heat on your cheeks dissipate you waltzed into the kitchen as casually as you could muster. Filling a glass of water up in the sink. “You really made yourself comfortable huh?” It sounded like a gripe, but Caleb’s back was still turned to you and you were appreciatively glancing over at his muscles between large gulps of tap water. 

Maybe he’s been feeding you aphrodisiacs? 

You mulled the thought over in your head, briefly, before focusing in on Caleb who was certainly speaking to you. “Hey, you listening in or are you gonna keep staring at me like I’m a martian?” His brow twitched up, a smirk tugging his lips into that soft m shaped line you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. 

“Start over, I’ve gotten so used to you staying at my place you’re like background noise now.” You tilted your head to the side, fighting to keep your eyes above his collar bones. 

Caleb lets out a long sigh, shaking his head like he expected this of you. 

His sweet girl.

And suddenly you were blushing again, just at the memory of those words falling from his lips. You felt like a puppy, begging for just a few more words of praise at his feet. 

You hated it. 

“Well I was saying I really have to do laundry. I didn’t pack much.” You ignore his statement, finding it awfully suspicious why Caleb of all people wouldn’t do laundry before he’s completely run out of clothes. Maybe this new side of him was more forgetful. 

You purse your lips. “Feel free to use the machine, I think I have some of your old shirts in the closet.” Caleb nodded, barking out what sounded like an order to watch the stir fry while he looked. You obliged him if only to satiate your growing appetite. You could barely tell if it was for food anymore.

Fuck what was he doing to you?

He came back 10 minutes later, hair rustled, one arm tucked behind his back, and a shirt he used to wear a lot in high school draped over his frame. It had a few stains, mostly from you spilling your morning coffee on the front because you always wore it to bed. For a minute he looked like the old Caleb you knew, but wasnt that just deja vu by now? “Found somethin’ cool in your closet.” His voice a teasing rumble as he broke you out of your nostalgia. 

You shrugged thinking it was probably a photo album or maybe a keepsake you kept from the salvage of grandma’s home. But the look on Caleb’s face made you pause as you scooped cooked stir fry onto two ceramic plates. “What?” 

He had the kind of shit eating grin that made you start to break into a nervous sweat. While looming over you Caleb pulled out your vibrator from behind his back. The hot pink rabbit toy you kept tucked away in a dust bag in your closet for the nights where your job really did keep you up. “Didn’t think you were such a naughty girl keeping stuff like this around where anybody could find it.” You immediately reached for it, face flushing a deeper shade of red as he held it high above his head. 

Why did he have this incessant need to watch you struggle?

You struggled between feeling mortified, flustered, turned on by the fact that he didn’t care that what he was holding had been inside you, that he even wanted to tease you about it in the first place. 

“You’re such a bully Caleb!” You reached up again and Caleb finally dropped his hand just enough to let you grab it from him. You cradled the silicone toy, brows knitted together as you shot him an accusing glare. “It wasn't where just anyone could have found it. It was in a dust bag and you snooped just to embarrass me!” 

Caleb leaned against the island countertop, head tilting to the side and brow raised. “Thought I told you that you could ask for my help with anythin’.” 

You had to grip the counter to stop yourself from going weak in the knees, your voice nearly coming out a hushed squeak before you swallowed down the knot in your throat to finally speak. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Caleb’s arm flexed when he tightened his knuckles around the edge of the countertop, your eyes instinctively darted down to watch the muscles dance below his skin, tightening up just to relax again. He let out an amused chuckle that sounded filthy to your ears, but you couldn’t tell if it was your mind playing tricks on you. “Could use these hands you seem to like so much. Or is it the arms you’re always starin’ at?” 

Your head went blank, eyes wide, darting between his knuckles, white from how hard he was gripping the counter, to his arms where inches upon inches of muscle built up to the stretch of his shoulder, than his face, with his eyes so dark it felt like they were burning into you. Your face was hot, your mind hazy, and your jaw was undoubtedly hanging open. 

“You’re gonna catch flies like that baby” He chastised, hand coming up to nudge your jaw closed with the second knuckle of his index finger. You closed it, still staring at him wide eyed. You didn’t know what you were feeling, you just knew it felt warm and tingly and shot right between your thighs. Caleb dragged his hand down your jaw to your throat, stepping closer until he had you shuttered against him in the bend of the countertops. He tilted your face up and stroked at the skin of your cheek, face leaning down until he was inches away from you. 

“Caleb.” His name slipped out more like a broken whimper than the warning tone you had tried to exude. His thumb rubbing softly at your face while his fingers cradled the back of your head like you might collapse at any moment. 

Your legs did feel like jello. 

Caleb hummed, the sound saccharine sweet like he ran it through honey. “What is it sweetheart?” Your hand, still clutching the pink silicone of the vibrator, pressed against the countertop behind you. 

You wanted to put your hands on him, you wanted to feel those muscles in his arm shift as he worked you over and over until you were mewling and fucked drunk. “Can I touch you?” The vibrator forgotten about on the countertop as your hands tentatively reached up to his shoulders. 

He snorted, a little incredulousness slipping into his tone as he brought his other hand against your hip, squeezing the flesh there playfully. “‘Course you can sweet girl, you never asked before.” 

Before was different, before was when he was your childhood best friend, the Caleb that wasn't exactly so bold, the Caleb that was like your brother. You shifted your gaze down to your slippers. “It’s just different now is all.” You breath hitched when he pressed a soft kiss against your jaw, your hands finally definitively resting on his broad shoulders. “You’re calling me stuff other than pipsqueak and trying to get in my pants.” 

Caleb let out a dark chuckle, his face resting against your neck as he pressed soft kisses against the skin there that left you breathless and aching. “Is it working?” Another painfully sweet nibble against sensitive flesh that made you squirm. Now that hand that was at your hip was sliding up to squeeze your waist, kneading the tense muscles of your side. 

You nodded, it definitely was working. 

Caleb hummed, low and satisfied. His eyes were so dark they nearly looked black. “Wonder what would feel better? My hand or that toy of yours.” Another nip against your skin, right above your pulse. 

Your breath hitched, his arms had you caged in against the kitchen cabinets and all you could do was pout up at him with a rosy face. “Is this more of your teasing?” You weren’t in the mood for new games, and Caleb loved to play. 

He pressed himself forward and you realized at once that Caleb wasn't playing, there hard against your stomach was all the proof you needed. You slid a hand down from his shoulder, nearly in disbelief when it brushed against the front of his boxers. The length of him twitched below your fingers and you moved to withdraw your touch but Caleb’s hand shot out to grip your wrist. “Curious aren’t ya?” His face was colored pink, up to the tips of his ears, eyes heavy lidded in an expression you had never seen before. “Ya don’t have to be curious about everything.” 

Caleb released your wrist, stepping back to run a hand through his hair. He glanced away, seemingly thinking for a moment before turning back to you. “Think I’m done playing games now.” And suddenly he was using his evol to pull you forward into his arms, strong and securely wrapped around your waist to lift you up. 

“Caleb!” You squirmed in his hold but he just squeezed tighter, hands warm against the back of your bare thighs. You couldn’t deny the way he always made you feel helpless, it didn’t matter how many wanderers you took down all own your own, in Caleb’s arms it was pointless to struggle. 

If you didn’t love him so much you might have had the sense to be afraid. 

He carried you to your bedroom, lips pulled into a signature smirk. “Don’t tell me you aren’t going to accept responsibility for your actions now that things are getting serious.” Your back fell against the mattress, Caleb’s hands were already sliding down your thighs tugging the waistband of your shorts. You reached out to stop him, trying to make sense of everything when your mind was so hazy.

Were you embarrassed or aroused? 

It was all mixing together, making your heart pound against your rib cage until it felt like the beat of the drum. Caleb tilted his head curiously, breath warm against your neck as your hand closed around his wrist. “Aren’t there lines you don’t cross?” You asked breathlessly, eyes wide. 

Caleb chuckled, the sound made your swimming mind suddenly hyper focused on him propped up with a strong arm above you. “Aren’t lines meant to be crossed and rules made to be broken?” He pressed a kiss against the exposed skin of your collar and you nearly shivered. 

Why did everything only ever feel right when he was touching you?

You released your grip on his wrist, relaxing into the mattress. Caleb made sense, him touching you made sense. Even as he dragged your shorts down over your hips, until all you had left were the flimsy damp cotton of your panties and the rumpled oversized fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Caleb leaned back with a dark grin, canines sparkling in dim warm light made his smile seem more like the toothy maw of a wolf than the face of your best friend. 

He wanted to eat you alive.

Lips on yours, harsh and aggressive. Teeth sinking into the soft delicate skin of your lower lip until you were moaning against him. Your hands came up to tug on his hair but he just used his evol to pin them back on the bed on either side of your head. “C’mon sweet girl, only I get to touch.” 

You couldn’t help the whiny noise that slipped past kiss swollen lips. He wasn't being fair and he loved to use his evol against you. “I thought rules were meant to be broken?” You taunted back, not missing the way Caleb’s eyes crinkled in the corners. 

He pressed another kiss against your lips, this one softer, the kind that made you so weak in the knees that if you hadn’t been laying down you might have collapsed. “Mhmm…I think rules are fine if I’m the one makin’ them, haven’t you learned that by now?” Caleb’s fingers teased the edge of your underwear waistband, slipping past the elastic to press a teasing caress against the heated flesh of your sensitive clit. 

You sucked in a sharp inhale of air. His calloused finger pad rolling tight circles until you felt the warm drip of your drooling cunt against the bottom of your ass. You were fucking leaking in your panties like you were in heat. Begging for more than just the little touches Caleb was giving you. 

You met his gaze, trained on you like it always was, ears pink and lips parted to let the soft breaths of air, he was huffing out, brush against your cheek. “Caleb please…more.” 

Caleb hummed, tilting his head like he didn’t know what you possibly meant. “More? More what baby?” He knew exactly what you wanted more of but he loved seeing you admit the one thing he craved more than anything. 

That you needed him. 

And Caleb was always willing to let you struggle for it, maybe that was half the enjoyment for him aside from seeing your cute face scrunch up the way it was now. 

You moaned again when the calloused pad of his finger brushed up your hood in a way that made your thighs clench together. Caleb pushed your thighs apart, one hand on your left knee and the other still barely touching you under your panties. “Please…Touch me more.” You whined out, back arching up. 

Caleb withdrew his touch, but his evol kept you pinned down to the bed. “I dunno…You gonna admit that you still need me?” Your brows furrowed, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you met his self satisfied expression with a needy glare. 

You huffed, eager to knock him down a peg. “You’re such a dummy Caleb.” Still, you felt desperate for more. With your lips pressed into a pout you reluctantly gave him what he wanted. “I…I need you Caleb. Please will you really touch me now?” 

That smirk he had faded into something more akin to affection and then your panties were being dragged off. “Yeah? You need me that badly huh?” Caleb was tugging off his shirt, thick arms suddenly free for you to ogle and washboard abs catching the light just right enough to make your breath hitch despite having seen him shirtless countless times. 

Caleb released his evol from your wrists if only to drag you back against his chest after he sat and leaned against the headboard. You didn’t mind the change in position, your back pressed snuggly against his warm pecs. His fingers crept up your shirt to play with your breasts his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Okay pretty girl, okay. I’ll take care of you just like how I always do.” 

One hand kneading your chest, the other between your folds toying at your entrance while his thumb rubbed lazily against your clit. You rolled your hips against his touch, nails digging into the muscled flesh of his strong thighs. A cacophony of pleasured mewls spilling from your lips while Caleb licked and sucked bruises against your neck. He hummed, deep and low, when his mouth unlatched from the hickey on your pulse.

They were going to be hard to explain at work when your vacation finally ended. 

“Look at you pretty baby, all needy for me. Makes it feel like we’re the only people in the world.” He sighed against your bruised flesh, fingers hooking up to finally push into your sopping cunt. Your head fell back against his shoulder at the sensation of him pushing two thick knuckles inside you, eyes barely staying open just to watch the muscles flex in his arms as he curled his fingers against that spongy part of your pussy that made you see stars. 

“Don’t tease Caleb.” You mumbled out in-between breathy moans. He just pressed a kiss against your shoulder and curled his fingers deeper. 

Caleb scissored his fingers, stretching your pussy before curling back upwards to hit your sweet spot, thumb still rubbing on your clit without ever breaking pace. 

Fuck…he must have done this before if he was so damn good at it. 

You were already so close, barely fifteen minutes in and your thighs were trembling, slick soaking the bed sheets beneath the two of you. He kept you caged against him, teeth nipping at the lobe of your ear as he whispered filthy praise just for you. “That’s it pretty girl.” His cock throbbed against your back and you could feel the wet spot growing on his boxers. “Fuck your pussy keeps sucking my fingers in…Don’t tell me you get this way for that toy of yours?” You shook your head and Caleb laughed, his other hand pinching a nipple between his index finger and thumb. “C’mon baby, can’t you say it?” He was teasing you again, but it all felt so much worse when his fingers were buried inside you and you were wet enough to fill an aquarium. “Tell me how much better I am than that pink rabbit otherwise I’m not gonna let you cum princess. And wouldn’t that be a real shame?” 

You thought you might cry at the thought, but Caleb seemed all too eager to punish as he was to reward and you knew better than to test his patience when you were just so close to the release you needed. Your hips rolled in short needy bursts, lips parting open to let out that soft sweet sound Caleb loved so much, you were going to set aside your pride for once if only for a moment of utter bliss you were sure Caleb would bring you to. “It’s better! Ah…hng! Fuck you’re so much better.” 

Caleb seemed satisfied at that, his touch on your clit speeding until that knot low in your gut was about to unravel. “You oughta throw the thing away, I want to be the only one who sees you like this, the only one who makes you cum.” You moaned out an unintelligible word but it just turned into Caleb’s name, over and over, just like the way he kept bullying your over sensitive cunt. “You wanna cum pretty girl?” Your nails were biting into the skin of his arm where you gripped the flexing muscles as his fingers worked you over. 

“Please, please Caleb!” You could feel him smiling against your neck, fingers prodding over and over at your sweet spot until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Good girl, go ahead and soak my fingers. Cum for me baby.” He sounded breathless, eyes glazed and trained on your fluttering cunt, watching the way your folds parted lewdly just for his fingers. The way your unabashed need made them glisten in the low light. 

Eyes rolled back and mouth parted open in a cry that certainly disturbed your neighbors, your orgasm had your thighs clenching together until Caleb used his evol to pin your legs down. His fingers still working you through it with squelches that were loud enough to contest the sound of your fucked out moans. 

You were trembling against him, chest heaving as you finally came down from your high. Blinking up to see him already looking down at you, eyes soft violet even under the warm lamplight. “Wasn't that just the prettiest sight.” He mumbled out, lips curled in that satisfied grin he had when he offered sour candy he knew you would deny so he could hog the whole bag to himself. You were still panting, eyes bleary as you looked up at him while he withdrew his fingers from your clutching cunt. 

He peppered kisses against your cheek before bringing a finger to his lips to suck the slick clean, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a soft moan. “Geez you’re sweet as hell even down there aren’t ya?” Another kiss against your flushing neck and then his other finger still slick with you was being pressed against your lips. “C’mon sweet tooth, try it.” His tone didn’t have much room for argument so you parted your lips obediently to suck his fingers clean. You didn’t mind it, it’s not like you haven’t had dirty thoughts of him making you gag around his knuckles before. But still, the taste of yourself on his digits was new.

His cock twitched insistently against your lower back and you realized he still hasn't let you touch him. You wanted to make him feel as good as you did.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and you took the opportunity to turn in the bed to face him, bringing your hands up to his flushed cheeks to press eager kisses against his mouth. "I wanna touch you Caleb...Please."

He stared at you for a moment, his pupils blown to near black, before ruffling your hair playfully. "Nah not yet baby, M'not done with you." You were baffled, what did he mean by not done with you?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by sudden weightlessness, the bed pressing against your back and Caleb above you. "Caleb! Quit using your evol to toss me around!"

He chuckled, kissing your neck, stopping at the collar of your rumpled sleep shirt and yanked it off using his gravity manipulation. Suddenly you felt bare, nipples pebbling in the cool air as Caleb kissed across the skin of your breasts. "Thats funny, when you were a kid you loved when I picked you up like that." A nip at your nipple made your breath hitch. "Wanted me to keep taking you higher." He pressed a kiss at your sternum. "And higher." Another kiss but lower, against the warm pulse on your stomach. "And higher." He nipped at the pudge below your navel. You whined but he shushed you and propped your thighs over his broad muscular shoulders. "Until you went to outer space."

He was kissing a new place entirely, one that was leaving you breathless. "C-Caleb!"

He hummed but the sound reverberated against your mound, making you forget why you were protesting in the first place. He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive plump bud. Your folds were swollen, still soaked with slick from your first orgasm, and you could already feel another one creeping up.

Your hands reached to dig into Caleb's hair but he used his evol to pin your wrists to the bed without even looking up. Strong arms flexed as his hands kept your thighs pried apart.

At least he was playing into your fantasies.

He pulled away from your clit to lap between puffy folds, moaning at the taste. You were already putty in his hands, thighs trembling, eyes so glazed, and lips parted to let out breathy moans.

Caleb was as talented in life as he was in dreams. You should have suspected as such, he was good at everything he did.

His mouth latched onto your clit again, tongue lashing against the bud until that knot tightened. He pushed two fingers in, curving them up as his mouth worked you over the final push.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Back arching as you came undone against his face, his fingers pumping in a steady rhythm as he lapped at your clit with the broad flat of his tongue.

It was all too much.

Your vision came back slowly, white fading back into color as Caleb pushed himself up, chin glistening with the juices from your release.

He looked debauched, like a stranger, and then he gave you that reassuring smile that made your pounding heart stop for a moment.

He was still your Caleb even after all of this.

He pressed a kiss against your stomach, glancing up at your face before releasing his evol. "You okay? Ya look a little...breathless up there." He was teasing you after giving you the best orgasm of your life.

Classic Caleb.

You rolled your eyes at his antics but nodded, stretching slowly as you regained sensation in your buzzing limbs. "Mhmm...What about you?"

You still haven't touched him yet much to your dismay.

He tilted his head curiously, eyes dark in the dim lighting. "Don't worry about me baby, there's time for all that later." He kissed your forehead, pressing another just above your brow. "Gotta make sure you have another reason to come visit me in Skyhaven next time."

He rolled onto his side, pulling you against his chest so that he was spooning you. You could feel the press of his tented boxers against your ass but you didn't comment on it.

He could torture himself all he wanted, he was your pink rabbit for the night after all.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

[wonderhomeland]

Part 2 of alpha!simon

He won't come near you.

The first time you actually feel him, There was a great distance between you. Not knowing how he looks like, you just guess from his scent. Even from this far, you could tell he is always the tallest in the room, not exactly hiding, but trying to not be obvious.

Just... Standing there. Observing you intensly. He's trying his best to get your attention and You could tast the mood change in the air when you finally give up and stare at him over your sholder.

God... He's so scary...

After that, he strat showing up more, follows you with a safe distans, like a ghost. never comes to you, say hi, get to know you.

Is he trying to make you uncomfortable?

Is this his way to get rid of you?

His scent is all over your room. It doesn't go off. Its been two weeks already.

There is a feeling, tells you that he comes back every night and resumption his scent.

Cus you saw him, standing and staring at your door like damn dog.

You know he's not doing it just to keep every alpha and omega and beta, every one away. They're afraid of him. All of them. You know that bc when you were introducing yourself, you saw how strangely they acted after hearing his name.

They don't dare cross the line.

They won't touch what's Simon Riley's.

Nobody does.

After that, you realized that his doing this for you. It was a message. Let you know who you belong to.

He didn't touch anything Just marked the confines of your room. At least, you hope. the only place that smelled like him was around your door.

That strong smell that makes you press your thighs together every time.

You never wanted to do this, it feels like you were selling yourself -technically, you were- but the amout of money that have been offered... no one could refuse.

You thought, amoung all of options you had, you chose the most normal one. Other fils were full of photo's, cocky notes about temselves, along with their Lifetime achievements and position.

He was the only one without anything unnecessary. Not even a picture. Only his name.

SIMON RILEY

LIEUTENANT

CODE NAME: GHOST

It was stupid to chose him. Not knowing anyting about him, till he stick his teet in the flesh of you sking, marking you as his, and then, you can strat to know who you're stuck with for the rest of your life.

But you thought about it for days, in that time he was the best option. when the other omegas find out who you're going for , they try dissuade you. Save you.

Telling you that his file has been here for years. Cus no one want's the Beast.

you thought that he's just ... not good-looking or he doesnt have a good personality, maybe a good knot.

When you think about it now, even without anything, his file sound chaotic.

Untamed. Crazy.

When you came to base to meet your soon-to-be-alpha, they give you...odd looks. Like you were a lamb leading into the wolf's mouth. But now you get it.

After the unsuccssesful chasing. You expect them to send you back.

Maybe someone else. There are planty alphas out there for you.

But no, they just smile. A sweet one. Not mad.

Make yourself usefull. You know how things go around here, right?

I'm here for that alpha not to clean the storage room...

You never say that tho.

Organizing the files wasn't hard, you were used to putting everything in its place.

"All done, and as you said I brought you all the documents related to the soldiers' leave in the last two years"

"Hmm, better than i expected , you know how to keep things clean right? All in place. Not shocking you're the one he wants ."

What-

"Sorry, captain, i don't underestand what are you talking about"

"Oh no, you know what i'm talking about. I must be concerned about your survival skills if you didn't notice your little shadow. You feel him right? Never seen him so excited, nor so distracted, leting his pheromones spread so much for an omega."

Omega, he puts it like it's an insult.

"Sir, it's not my fult that he can't cntrol his pheromones. Actually, I don't appreciate the fact that he's spreading his scent everywhere near me, especially after he ignored the courting and left me alone!"

"You know, Been years trying to find him a good mate, he is good soldier, know how to keep things clean. Like you"

amused by you reaction, He continued.

"But he is also a man, not a good one, even don't know how te be a good alpha. Hell he's a shitty one for leaving such lovey thing like you alone, but he doesn't answer any questions about his omega, No one even dares to ask questions about his omega. Every time we try to set him up with some one, he just wrinkled his nose. Telling me he is bothered by their scent. But i know he need one help him to heal his soul and i know by time he will be a great alpha for her"

He looks at you like you're the one who can help him. Ignoring your confused face, he walked past you and headed down the hallway.

"He likes you, give him a chance"

Just after he turn to the corner, you saw him. Closer than ever, standing right there, staring at your soul for a moment, and then he start following his captain.

Good lord...

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

English is not my first language so forgive me for any mistake! Tnx for reading till end!-☆

He is just a man who need someone to embrace him. :(

Taglist> @immapeppers 💖

[thewritetofreespeech]

I really think Gale needs to know that he is competent and good at things even without his magic/ without doing his magic.

Gale× woman girlfriend tav where they have soft sex and Gale want to enhance the experience with his magic, but reader shows him that he doesn't need to.

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

When Tav told him that she loved him back, he thought his chest might explode from just pure excitement & relief. Not the orb.

He had been fairly certain that Tav felt the same as him. Mentally reviewed all their moments together. Stolen glances. That moment in the Weave that still seemed to linger on his fingertips even now. But one was never sure of these things until they happened. And given how his last ‘grand gesture’ had ended, Gale was nervous that this would be another defeat as well. Yet to be accepted, to be loved in return by someone he respected & admired again, Gale could die a happy man. Should the right moment Elminster spoke of was to come.

For now, however, he wanted to focus on the now. He wanted it to be perfect. A vision, just like Tav was to him. To show her how deep his affection was for her, even with their short time together. He had it all planned. To show her his home. To show him where he found the most peace and solace when not at her side. Then to make love in the way of the gods by a perfect mending of souls & mind. It would be perfect.

Yet when he told Tav of his plan, she denied him. Saying that she didn’t want illusions, just him.

“Are you sure?” Gale was caught off guard by her response. Expecting that, when offered the opportunity to experience what so few mortals could, she would jump at the chance. Even with his limitations on the Weave between the tadpole and Mystra’s bars, Gale knew he could get them close to his experience in the heavens. He wanted that for both of them. More than what these simple husks of flesh could bide them. “I can do more than woo you. I could wow you.”

Tav chuckled at his comment. Amused, even though he was being totally serious, and reaffirmed that she wanted the man, not the magic.

Gale was entirely nervous at this point but tried not to show it. He had a plan and all that was out the window. What was he supposed to do now?? The wizard endeavored to stay calm and continue with at least the original plan of being with Tav. He didn’t know if they would have a moment like this again and he would be gods damned if he was going to waste it.

Conjuring just a small bit of magic for a bed, as his back would never recover from making love on the hard ground, Gale smiled when he saw Tav fall back on it playfully. She was always so funny. This odd kind of silly mixed with bravery. Gale couldn’t remember the last time he had been with someone who was silly. Mystra was always so serious, and her wizard acolytes from his school days were no different.

He watched Tav sit up on the bed. Beckoning him over with a look and gesture of her hand that held more magic in it to command than any spell Gale could conjure. He had to obey.

Climbing onto the bed with her, Gale leaned in to kiss Tav a second time. Deeper than the first. Her lips were soft, but a little chapped from their journey. It was warm though. That heat seemed to fill Gale to his bones. He’d forgotten what it was like being with a mortal after so much time with an immortal. Mystra always seemed happy with their coupling. Open and willing to reciprocate, but it was always incorporeal for them. Gale had made offers to pleasure her in other ways. Use what skills he had to please his goddess, but she always declined. As if unwilling to let her once mortal body turn divine be touched in any way resembling a human. At the time Gale had been contented with that. But with the clarity that distance and perspective could now offer, he could now see the benefits of both.

Gale gasped into their kiss as he felt Tav’s fingers brush over the front of his tunic. Down from his chest to his belly. The muscles twitch even with the slightest touch. He had forgotten about that too. Touch.

He moved from kissing Tav’s lips down to her neck. Her breath hitched as her pulse hammered against his lips. Feeling her life’s drum just there against her skin. Gale could understand why Astarion was so tempted now. As he kissed her neck and collarbone, his fingers danced over her body. Gale may not have magic in his fingers when it came to locks, but he was certainly dexterous enough to be able to do lacings & the like. Their garments melting away as if by actual magic.

Gale took a moment to push up on his hands and get a full look at Tav. She was beautiful. Radiant. The light on her skin. The pert of her breasts in the night air. The imperfections of scars, freckles, and spots here & there all perfect. The perfection of realism.

The wizard swooped back down to finish kissing Tav all the way down. Moving to her sternum. Toying with her breasts. The weight of them soft but noticeable as he worked them in his hand. He moaned in tandem with Tav as her fingers brushed into his hair as he suckled at her breast. Feeling her there, reciprocating, listening to her enjoy what he was doing to her, Gale thought he might burst. He was so hard, and the bedding he had conjured provided little relief to the pressure as he rubbed against it.

Gale continued his path down. Kissing over Tav’s stomach until he came to the apex between her thighs. “Can you open a little more for me, my love?” He was hesitant to use the term of endearment. Fearful that he might have pushed too far. Perhaps they were not ready for pet names. But when he saw Tav part for him with a shy little smile, he decided he would call her that every day.

Her scent flowed up to him as her legs parted. Sweet yet sensual. Gale felt his mouth literally water in reflex. How long had it been since he tasted a woman fully? How longer still had it been since he’d done this with a woman that he loved?

Even with the lapse in time, it was like a fish to water for Gale. Based on Tav’s moans & shutters he had not forgotten how to please with his verbose, practiced tongue. He swiped up through her center, teasing the nub at the cleft, before sliding back down to collect her sweet honey. His hands massaged her thighs which were warm and lax by his ears. Gods. How had he gone so long without this in his life? He felt like a starving man sat down in front of his first meal.

Gale moaned into her cunt as he felt Tav reach for him between her legs. Fingers in his hair. Gripping and pulling in pleasure. His cock was already rock hard but it jutted in excitement with every tightening of her fingers. He made quick work to finish lest he truly embarrass himself on their first rendezvous.

Tav cried out as she came. Her thighs tightening in his hand. She looked beautiful lying there all spent. The slightest hint of perspiration on her skin illuminated in the moonlight. Gale had seen gods, but he could think of no sight finer.

He crawled over Tav again until they were nose to nose. “Are you sure?” He wanted to ask again. Maybe she had changed her mind? Maybe this was enough for him to hope for?

Tav just wrapped her arms around his neck and braced her knees against his side. “Do it.”

The commanding voice sent a shiver down Gale’s spine. Enough to make him almost cum right there. He restrained himself and reached down to moisten his cock with spittle and pre-cum. Then he lined up with Tav’s entrance and pushed forward.

The two of them moaned. Gale did not expect how hot inside her would be, how tight. With Mystra everything was so open and vast. The vastness of eternity and the Weave open to them to express their feelings. Here, with Tav, everything seemed to file down to a single point. A single moment. Just the two of them in the whole wide world. Gale moved his hips back and pressed forward again. Starting a slow, easy rhythm. He wanted this moment to last forever; or at least as long as possible.

Tav held on to him and moved her hips back to meet him. The perfect partnership, just like their adventure. Gale leaned down to kiss her and was met with equal passion. Tongues melding, gasping breaths, hearts racing. Everywhere Tav touched him seemed to leave a burning trail across his body, waiting to consume him. Had it always been like this with mortals and he had just forgotten? No. Gale knew he would remember this if it had happened. It had to be Tav.

His hips sped up and Tav rose to meet him with glee. He could feel that he was going to climax soon, and it became his single focus for the next few moments before stumbled in his thrust with a low, powerful moan. White hot flashes across his eyes as he was sure was spilling inside her.

Gale broke from a final kiss with Tav in their coupling and rested his head against hers. He felt tired, but indeed sated as he anticipated he would be. Complete. Should the world and the orb come to swallow him whole, Gale would be able to do it with but one regret now on his mind. That he couldn’t be with her longer.

The wizard carefully dislodged himself from Tav and pulled her close with the conjured blanket to wrap them in. “We’ll need to head back before morning.” He reasoned. The others would come looking for them, and his spell of stars would not last forever. But it would for a little while longer. For now, he just wanted to spend the remainder of the night with Tav in his arms. As a man. As two lovers. Not a wizard and adventure on a path to save the world. Just him and Tav.

[earlgreylatte]

Hi can you do yanderes with a hypersexual darling? Like they dont like their partner but still need it, its okay if you dont want to love your work (its up to you about yanderes)

Friends with Benefits

Hal Jordan: Your next door neighbour was annoying, incorrigible really, in how much he seemed to relish in being a bother. Loud and arrogant, flirting with you at every interaction, but infuriatingly attractive, you don’t like him, at all. Especially since he seems to wait until all he has left is a pair of sweatpants to actually head down to the basement to do his laundry, proudly showing off his slim waist and defined abs. Okay, maybe you want him in a purely sexual way. And he feels the same way, so you find yourself falling into a purely transactional arrangement with him; you’re both clean and neither of you expect a follow up call, so it works. And he’s gone half the time, leaving no room for awkwardness as he’s more concerned with jumping you. And he knows how to put that annoying mouth to use. But during one of his longer stints of absence, you find yourself calling an old hookup over instead. Before you can even take your clothes off, Green Lantern of all people is bursting into your bedroom and throwing the other man off you with a brutal punch, daring him to show his face near you again before throwing him out. And, oh god, Hal is Green Lantern. That explains the constant leaving he does. But you’re more concerned about his audacity. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend and he no right to interfere in your affairs. When his face goes blank, you’re almost thankful his eyes are covered. But he only smiles before yanking you towards him by the wrist, “Looks like I’ll have to change that then.”, and you don’t think you can say no.

Booster Gold/Ted Kord: It’s not that you disliked them or anything, you even found their antics humorous at times. But, that’s as far as you would go. The whole hero community wasn’t one you wanted to involve yourself in, preferring to just do your work and return home without having to go to any of their holiday parties. But the one time you are roped into going one, and after a certain beetle starts flirting with you, you find yourself in supply closet and being joined by Booster Gold who walked in on you two. And, it’s easy being with them, not having to explain your bruises and being able to take what you want, what you need. Ted even offers to create toys that could better fit your desires. And they both seemed to understand your arrangement well enough. But soon they goad you into playing Smash Ultimate after you shower, then they’re making you food and even bringing you pastries if you’re working together. But it’s still casual, even as they refuse to let you leave their cuddle pile and start wrapping their arms around your waist after you finally agree to platonically hangout. But when a villain gets the upper hand on you, and you find yourself whisked away in the Bug as Ted cradles you and Booster nearly beats a man to death, you realize you’re totally dating them, or at least they think so. Fuck.

Kyle Rayner: Kyle’s never had the greatest luck with romance, so at some point, he just says fuck it and gives up on the whole true love thing. He just pours himself into the whole Green Lantern thing, remaining in space, exploring and tending to his duties, rather than try to cultivate a relationship back home. You enter the picture as a fellow lantern, assigned on a diplomatic mission with him, and those always take a while to complete. So when you two are bored out of your minds in your shared room, one things leads to another, and you two begin a series of flings with each other. By the time your mission is over, Kyle has already told the Guardians you need more training and that he’s more than willing to help you for the foreseeable future. He knows he said he was done with love, but he couldn’t help himself. He needs to stay with you just a little longer, just to make you feel the same way as him. And you can’t really say much, seeing as how he’s your superior and saviour of the Corps.

Johnny Storm: Everyone and their mother knew about the Human Torch, former teen idol now a general nuisance. It’s a bit hard not to be envious of him, with the glitz and glam of his hero/explorer life, surrounded by models and fast rides. So, when he asks you out after saving you, obviously you reject him. But you keep running into him afterwards, much to your annoyance, and eventually he’s grating on your nerves enough that you say fuck it, and skip the date and fuck him instead (and maybe the look of shock on his face was worth it). And that was your first mistake because god was he disgustingly good in bed, leaving you utterly satiated and covered in bite marks, so of course you proposed to keep things casual, seeing how he probably wanted sex too rather than something more intimate, playboy that he is. Until he starts referring to you as his future wife to others before insisting he’s joking when you confront him. And showing up at your work while suited up, causing everyone in your vincity to start recording. After appearing on TMZ, you decide to distance yourself from him, but kidnappings and villain encounters push you back into his arms, while his nephew starts to call you ‘auntie’ and his niece stares at you menacingly. Well, if the world is going to see you as the Human Torch’s lover, the least he can do is put his powers to some use in the bedroom…

Peter Parker: You can’t really escape him, or at least that’s how it feels like. You and Peter have attended school together since kindergarten, but that hasn’t necessarily forged a friendship. No, he’s just kid you’ll have in your class some years or see around. You thought you’d never see him again once you reached adulthood, but he’s a student of Empire State University too. You don’t have anything against him, really, but you’d rather have one of your friends show up as much as he does. But you can’t deny he’s attractive, muscle hidden beneath those baggy shirts he wears, toned stomach revealed when he stretches just so. So when you see him hanging around at a party, awkwardly nursing his solo cup, you approach and one thing leads to another, and you’re back at his place. He’s stronger than you expected, able to manhandle you into any position he likes with a near punishing force, so you stay a bit longer. You thought he knew things weren’t serious between you two until, he’s confessing he loves you, that he has for a while, as he’s climaxing in you. You wait until he falls asleep to sneak out, but you knock a box off his desk. One filled with pictures of you. And when you feel someone hovering above you while you were inspecting a particularly risqué photo of you, you don’t turn around in fear of the expression on his face. God, you’re fucked, in more than one way.

Matt Murdock: He doesn’t have the time or capacity for a relationship, but he has his urges, ones that he isn’t able to control, if his body count or meetups with the Avengers aren’t evidence enough. He knows that you’re like him too, and that you won’t get attached, so you two come to an arrangement. But the more time he spends with you and the more accustomed he becomes with your body, the harder it is for him to keep his feelings down. He knows you don’t feel the same way, from the reactions and chemicals he can feel and smell from you. But even then, he can’t bring himself to push you away. So he listens to your heartbeat from outside your home, makes sure no one even thinks of approaching you when you walk home, and continues to pine. And when he overhears a coworker plan to make a move on you, he pays them a visit as the Devil. Even if he wants more, he would rather die than have things change with you.

Thanks for the ask! Changed the request just a bit—

Also 2025 is the year of Johnny Storm, whose comic version has no fics here!! Hopefully marvel rivals creates some hype!!

Masterlist

[promptedwordsmith]

I asked this request with someone else so you mayy or mayy not see the same request somewhere else. Depends on if you or the other person does write my request. It’s alright if you don’t wanna, write want you wanna to write. I just need this idea out of my system 🤣

MC is indicted that she is powerful. Good fighter, powerful evol where she can practically borrow someone else evol and the core in her heart. She much weaker for an unknown reason at the moment. But what if she wasn’t for a brief moment? 👀

What if MC physically fights the LaDS men without holding back 👀 like a scenario where a new wanderer shows up, puppets her or something, forcing the LaDS men to defend themselves. I need the angst and drama 😂 where the men are like “I don’t want to hurt you but you’re going kill me at this rate if I don’t do something.”

This keeps floating in my head, someone save me 🤣

OK soo I hope this is what you meant and it wasn't just me completely misunderstanding but the second I read this I just had to get started omg

I usually really don't like the whole "I'm going to save you by playing on our connection" trope but it suits this sort of story I think!

Caleb

The battlefield was silent. Not the kind of silence that came from peace, but the suffocating, eerie kind—the moment before the storm.

Caleb stood at the center of it, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, violet eyes locked on you. Or at least, the body that belonged to you.

But you weren’t there.

The moment the Wanderer had latched onto you, sinking its unseen claws into your mind, he’d known something was wrong. You had stiffened, your Evol flaring wildly for half a second before your entire stance changed. That was the first warning. The second had come when your gaze lifted to meet his—not with recognition, not with warmth, but with something empty.

And then you had attacked him.

His own gravity turned against him—the weight around his body fluctuating so rapidly that he nearly lost his footing. That alone had confirmed his worst fear. The Wanderer wasn’t just suppressing your will—it was using your Resonance against him.

You had stolen his Evol.

And now, he had to fight you.

But he couldn’t.

Not really. Not the way he fought others.

His hands clenched at his sides as he dodged another blast of gravitational force, feeling the way the air twisted and compressed around him. You were strong. Stronger than he had ever let himself acknowledge.

His mind was at war with itself. Every instinct screamed at him to fight back—to win—but the part of him that had spent lifetimes protecting you? That part was already losing.

Because how could he fight you, when all he wanted to do was save you?

You lunged forward, eyes still vacant, but your movements were clean, precise—yours, but also not yours. You weren’t just mimicking his power; you were enhancing it. His own gravity was being amplified, warped, turned into a weapon against him. It took everything he had to avoid the sudden shift in force, barely managing to stabilize himself before he was slammed downward with bone-crushing weight.

The ground cracked beneath him. His knees buckled.

Caleb grit his teeth.

If this had been anyone else—any other enemy—he would’ve ended this fight by now. But it wasn’t. It was you. And for the first time in his life, he was afraid.

Not of you. Never of you.

But of what he might have to do to stop this.

He tried to speak, voice raw. “You have to fight it.”

You didn’t respond.

You only lifted your hand, and the world collapsed inward.

The force struck fast—so much stronger than he expected, so much more precise. His body strained against the gravity pressing down on him, the weight overwhelming. If he had been anyone else, he would’ve been crushed.

And that’s when the realization hit him—this is what you feel.

Every time you resonate with him, every time you borrow his strength, every time you fight beside him, this is what your body endures. The sheer force of his Evol, amplified within you.

He had never really thought about it before. Never truly grasped just how much you took on when you fought at his side.

And now? Now that power was against him.

His arms trembled as he forced himself up. “I know you’re still in there.” His voice was hoarse, desperate. “I know you can hear me.”

Nothing.

His mind raced. He needed to think. He needed to find a way to reach you—not hurt you, never hurt you—but how?

His vision blurred at the edges. The gravitational pull you were using was unlike anything he had ever faced. Not even he had pushed his power to this extent before. His body screamed for relief, his Evol struggling against itself.

But then he saw it.

The slight hesitation. The way your fingers twitched—just barely, but enough.

It wasn’t the Wanderer controlling his Evol. It was you.

Somewhere inside, you were still fighting.

That was all he needed.

Caleb sucked in a sharp breath, shoving aside hesitation, pain—everything. His hands shot forward, fingers splaying wide, and for the first time in this fight—he didn’t resist your gravity.

He let it pull him in.

The instant he got close enough, he grabbed your wrist, forcing your Evol to connect with his. Forcing Resonance.

And that was all it took.

Because the moment your Evol touched his, he poured everything he had into it. Not just power. Not just control. But himself.

His memories. His thoughts. The lifetimes spent together.

The way you had always brought him back from the edge.

The way he had sworn to protect you—not just in this life, but in every life.

And then, for the first time, you hesitated.

A sharp breath escaped you, your entire body jolting as if something had just slammed into your mind. Your grip on your own power wavered—just enough for Caleb to take control.

Gravity twisted.

Not violently. Not in a way that would hurt you.

But in the way he always held you.

Steady. Unshakable. Safe.

Your body swayed, your breath stuttering, and then—then—your eyes flickered.

Your real eyes.

Not the Wanderer’s empty gaze.

Yours.

Recognition flashed across your face, confusion, panic—and then the force holding him down snapped.

Caleb barely had time to react before your legs gave out, and he caught you without hesitation, his arms wrapping around you, his Evol still steadying your weight.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Your breath was warm against his shoulder, your body trembling in his arms. He could feel your heartbeat—erratic, unsteady, but yours.

And that was all that mattered.

The fight was over.

He pressed his forehead to the side of yours, his grip tightening, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

A shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his uniform. “I…” Your voice was hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Caleb exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No. Don’t.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his violet eyes burning. “You came back. That’s all that matters.”

And in that moment, he realized something—something that had been clear all along, but he had never let himself truly accept.

You weren’t just his partner.

You were his equal.

And no matter what, no matter how hard it got, he would always pull you back to him.

Rafayel

The battlefield was ablaze.

Not with fire, but with chaos.

The air was thick with smoke and embers, Rafayel’s flames flickering and dancing wildly across the ruined ground. Yet, despite the searing heat, his hands trembled. His chest ached—not from exhaustion, not from injury, but from the sheer horror of what was happening.

Because it was you standing against him.

And it wasn’t you at all.

Your eyes, usually filled with warmth, were void of emotion. Your stance, once fluid and graceful, was rigid—unnatural. The Wanderer who had taken over your body had turned your Resonance against him, amplifying his flames, twisting them, making them stronger in ways he never intended.

And now, that power was aimed at him.

A burst of fire roared toward him, faster than he could react. The heat seared his skin as he barely managed to throw himself to the side, landing hard against the dirt. His breath came out ragged as he quickly pushed himself up, his eyes locking onto you once more.

"Damn it..." he whispered, swallowing hard.

He couldn’t fight you.

But you—no, the thing inside you—had no such hesitation.

You lunged. Faster than he expected, stronger than he remembered. And maybe that was the worst part. He had always known you were powerful, but now? With your Evol fully unleashed against him, amplified in ways he never thought possible, he realized just how devastatingly strong you truly were.

And he had never feared your strength before.

Not until now.

You moved like fire itself—wild, relentless. Each attack forced him to retreat, to defend, to dodge, rather than strike back. He couldn’t. Even as his instincts screamed at him to fight, to survive, his heart refused to let him lift his hands against you.

"Come on, Rafayel," a voice that wasn’t yours taunted from your lips, hollow and mocking. "Is this really all you’ve got?"

Another wave of flames erupted toward him, this time crackling with an intensity that made his stomach twist. He barely managed to counter, his own fire surging up to meet yours, but the moment the two collided, yours consumed his completely.

His eyes widened.

His own fire.

It didn’t even stand a chance.

"Shit—"

The explosion sent him flying backward, slamming into the side of a crumbling building. He gasped, pain shooting through his ribs. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the helplessness clawing at his chest.

He had to think. Had to find a way to get through to you.

But how?

If he tried to burn the Wanderer out, he’d be burning you.

If he held back, he’d die before he got the chance to save you.

He gritted his teeth.

No. There had to be a way.

Slowly, he pushed himself up, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes locked onto you again—his love, his muse—possessed and wielded like a weapon against him.

His hands clenched into fists.

"I know you’re still in there." His voice was hoarse, desperate. "I know you can hear me."

But you didn’t answer.

The Wanderer tilted your head, smirking through your lips. "That’s sweet," they mocked. "But pointless."

And then you attacked again.

Faster. Stronger.

You disappeared in a flash of heat—only to reappear behind him. He barely turned in time to block the hit, his forearm crashing against yours. The sheer force of it made his bones rattle. Then came another, and another—strike after strike, relentless.

And Rafayel could do nothing but defend.

Not because he wasn’t strong enough.

But because he couldn’t—wouldn’t—hurt you.

Think, damn it!

The answer came in a flicker of memory.

Your Resonance.

You borrowed the power of others, but it was a two-way connection. If he could reach that part of you—if you were still in there, buried deep beneath the Wanderer’s control—then maybe, just maybe, he could pull you back.

But he had to get close.

Close enough to touch you.

Close enough to take a direct hit.

It was a gamble. A stupid, reckless gamble. But he was running out of time, and there was no way in hell he was going to lose you.

So, he let go of his defense.

Dropped his guard completely.

And when you lunged at him again, aiming straight for his heart—he didn’t move.

The moment your hand made contact with his chest, he reached out. Not with his fire. Not with his fists.

But with his Resonance.

A connection.

A tether.

Through the blinding heat, through the searing pain of your touch, he focused on you—the real you, trapped beneath layers of someone else’s will.

"Come back to me," he breathed. "Please."

For a moment—just a flicker—something changed.

Your body froze.

The grip on his chest loosened, fingers trembling against his shirt. The flames flickering in your eyes wavered—just for a second.

And in that second, he poured everything into the link between you.

Your Evol, your power, the resonance that had always bound you together. He reached for it. Pushed his own power into it. Made it something bigger, brighter, than the darkness that held you captive.

"You’re mine," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours despite the heat. "Not theirs."

The Wanderer shrieked.

The connection between you burned.

And then—

A scream tore through the air. Your body convulsed, and suddenly, the fire turned inward.

Not his. Yours.

Flames erupted around you, swallowing your form in a wild blaze—brighter, hotter than anything he’d ever seen. And then—

Silence.

When the flames finally died, you collapsed against him, body trembling, breath coming in ragged gasps.

But your eyes—

Your eyes were yours again.

"Rafayel..." Your voice was weak, hoarse, but it was enough.

His breath hitched, arms tightening around you as he pulled you close, pressing desperate kisses to your hair, your forehead, anywhere he could reach.

"You scared the hell out of me," he whispered, voice shaking. "Don’t you ever do that again."

A weak laugh left your lips as you buried your face against his chest. "Not exactly something I planned, you know."

He let out a breathless chuckle, relief washing over him like a tidal wave.

You were back.

And he would never let you go again.

Sylus

The night was warm, but Sylus felt nothing but cold.

He stood across from you, his crimson eyes narrowed, his breath steady—but his heart pounding.

You weren’t you.

Not really.

A Wanderer had taken your body, stolen your will, and twisted it into something unrecognizable. The way you moved—precise, calculating, almost inhuman—was proof enough. Your usual grace had been sharpened into something unnatural, something colder than he could stand to see.

He had fought countless enemies before. He had cut down traitors, eliminated threats, and broken those who dared to stand against him. But this?

This was the first time his hands trembled before a fight had even begun.

You raised your hand, palm out, and Sylus braced himself. A flicker of energy crackled around your fingers—his energy, twisted by your Resonance Evol.

The Wanderer inside you smirked.

“Your hesitation is touching, Sylus,” they said, your voice not quite right. “But it will be your downfall.”

Then, with a flick of your wrist, the world ignited.

A blast of pure, searing energy surged toward him—his own power, amplified and turned against him. He barely had time to react, throwing himself to the side as the ground where he once stood erupted in a violent shockwave.

Damn it.

He knew your Evol made you powerful, but now—now—he was realizing just how dangerous it was. With your Resonance, you weren’t just using his ability. You were enhancing it. Making it faster. Stronger.

Making it better than he ever could.

Sylus exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself.

“Darling,” he said, his voice calm despite the ache in his chest, “if you wanted a fight, you could’ve just asked.”

The Wanderer inside you laughed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. You were always going to lose.”

You lunged.

Sylus barely dodged in time, his coat billowing as he twisted away. Another blast of energy, another near-miss. He felt the heat graze his cheek, singeing his skin. Tch. That was his power. Amplified. Used against him.

And worse?

He still couldn’t bring himself to attack you.

Because even though your body was moving against him, even though you were fighting with deadly precision—it was still you.

And the thought of hurting you was the first thing in his life that truly terrified him.

But this was no longer just about him.

He had to get you back.

Sylus moved with purpose, dodging, analyzing. He needed a plan—a way to break the Wanderer’s hold without breaking you.

But the problem was you were making it impossible.

You weren’t just strong—you were devastating. Every attack came faster, sharper. His own Evol, when amplified by yours, was far more than he could handle. It was overwhelming, relentless.

A pillar of energy surged forward. He braced, crossing his arms as the impact slammed into him, forcing him back. He barely stayed on his feet, his boots skidding against the cracked ground.

You’re too strong like this.

And that realization—it shook him to his core.

He had always known you made him stronger. Had always known that together, you were an unstoppable force.

But now? Now that you were standing against him instead of beside him?

He wasn’t sure if he could win.

And worse—he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

“Come on, Sylus,” the Wanderer taunted through your lips. “You always plan for every possible outcome, don’t you? You must’ve thought about this scenario.”

He clenched his jaw. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

A smirk. “Oh? You really mean to say you never once imagined what would happen if your pretty little Resonance Evol turned against you?”

Sylus said nothing.

Because the truth was—no.

He had never imagined this.

Because in every scenario he had ever planned, in every possibility he had ever considered—

You were always with him.

The next strike was the closest yet.

A blast of energy—too fast, too precise. He barely managed to counter, the force sending him stumbling back. He could feel the bruises forming beneath his clothes, the sting of burned skin where your attack had hit.

And still, he hesitated.

“Why won’t you fight me, Sylus?” the Wanderer hummed, tilting your head. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

His eyes locked onto yours.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said simply.

The Wanderer clicked their tongue. “Oh, but I’ll hurt you.”

You raised your hand again.

And Sylus knew—this time, he wouldn’t be able to dodge.

But at the last second—you hesitated.

It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Sylus saw it. A flicker of recognition. A second where your body tensed—but your fingers curled inward, as if trying to resist.

You were still in there.

Sylus inhaled sharply. That’s it. Hold on, darling. Hold on just a little longer.

If you were still there, he could reach you.

He just had to risk it all.

So, instead of dodging—

He stepped forward.

The Wanderer sneered. “Giving up already?”

Sylus didn’t answer.

He just closed the distance—and grabbed your wrist.

The moment his fingers closed around your skin, he poured his energy into you.

Not to fight.

Not to hurt.

But to resonate.

If your Evol worked through Resonance, through matching the energy of those around you—then all he had to do was flood you with something stronger than the Wanderer’s control.

And there was nothing in this world stronger than his need to bring you back.

Your body stiffened. The energy in your hand faltered, flickering unsteadily between raw power and something uncertain. Your breathing hitched.

Sylus tightened his grip.

“Come back to me,” he murmured, his voice commanding. “I know you’re still in there.”

For a second—nothing.

Then—

A sharp gasp.

Your eyes, wide and yours again for just a moment, locked onto his. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. A violent shudder wracked through your body.

Sylus didn’t let go.

“You are mine,” he said, his voice a whisper, but carrying the full weight of his soul. “No one else gets to have you. Not them. Not anyone.”

A strangled cry tore from your throat. The Wanderer fought—but Sylus was stronger.

Because he knew you.

He knew your energy, your heart, your soul.

And no matter what—nothing could ever make him let you go.

The moment the Wanderer’s hold snapped, you collapsed against him.

Sylus caught you immediately, cradling you against his chest, his arms locking around you like a vice.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, weakly, you whispered, “You’re bleeding.”

Sylus let out a breathless laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. “You should see yourself, darling. You made quite the mess.”

You gave a weak chuckle. “Guess that means I won?”

His grip tightened. “Never.”

Then, softer—

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You nodded against his chest, and Sylus knew—

No matter what happened next, you would never fight alone again.

Xavier

The world around you spun. The cold, sterile air of the facility clung to your skin, and your heartbeat pounded against your chest as though it wanted to break free. You could feel the weight of your body, but it felt distant, as if you were no longer fully in control of it.

Your breath quickened as the world distorted, everything around you slipping out of focus. The pain in your temples only made the sensation worse, a sharp jolt of nausea sinking into your gut. It was as though your entire being was split in two, and one of those halves was being pulled in a direction you didn’t want to go.

You fought it, clenching your fists in an attempt to regain control, but it was no use. The foreign force inside you took hold with an iron grip, seizing every inch of you, weaving itself into your core until it became you. The invasive presence swirled within, a dark, malicious energy.

There was a flash of movement—Xavier. His silver hair caught the light, and his blue eyes found you with a look of deep concern. His steps faltered as he came closer, his gaze narrowing, confused. But the moment you met his eyes, the clarity of what was happening hit him all at once.

“No,” he whispered. The word trembled from his lips. “No, no, no…”

It was you. It was your body, but not your mind. Not your will. You weren’t in control anymore.

You were a prisoner inside your own skin.

“Xavier!” you tried to shout, but the voice that came out of your mouth wasn’t yours. It was cold, detached, and devoid of all warmth. A hollow echo of what you had once been.

Xavier’s eyes widened as his instincts kicked in. He knew you. He knew you, and this was wrong. This wasn’t the person he’d fought beside, laughed with, shared so many quiet moments. This wasn’t the person who’d trusted him with their heart, body, and soul.

But you weren’t completely gone. He could see it in the way your lips trembled, the subtle flicker of emotion beneath the cold mask the Wanderer had woven over you. But it wasn’t enough.

You were still trapped, still in that dark corner of your mind, but the Wanderer’s will was too powerful.

The presence inside you stirred, pushing against your resistance. Xavier took a careful step forward, his hand raised in a calming gesture, as though trying to reach the real you beneath the enemy’s control.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Just fight, okay? Fight it, please. I’ll find a way to get you back, I swear.”

But you didn’t respond—not with your words, not with any recognition of him. The enemy within you was far more cunning, pushing you forward, taking control of your every movement. You could feel it sinking deeper into you, exploiting the part of your mind that resonated with Xavier’s light. The resonance you shared, once a source of strength, now became a weapon against him, turning his own power into something he had to fight against.

It was then you saw it: the horrible realization in his eyes as he looked at you. He couldn’t bring himself to harm you, not even to defend himself, not when he knew what you’d become.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands, but you saw the struggle in his gaze. The anguish was raw, suffocating. He was trying to figure it out. He was trying to find a way to save you both.

The resonance between you and Xavier, the bond that had always strengthened you both in every situation, now felt like an anchor pulling you deeper into a sea of chaos. You could feel his power around you—surging, lighting up the space—but now it was a threat. A threat that made you feel like you were suffocating.

“No,” you whispered, fighting with every ounce of your being to reach him. “Don’t… hurt… me…”

But the Wanderer inside you wasn’t willing to let go. It twisted your body, forcing your hand up, and you could see Xavier’s eyes flicker with the realization that you were about to hurt him.

With a sudden surge of power, the resonance inside you flared to life—Xavier’s own Evol, manipulated by the enemy, twisted around you, harnessed into a blinding ball of light. The space around you erupted, and Xavier was forced back, his own power ripping through the air to fight against yours.

“Xavier—!” you screamed again, but the voice that came out of your mouth was filled with malice, not your own.

You didn’t know if he could hear the real you anymore. You couldn’t even feel the pulse of his Evol flowing into you as it used to. He was too far away now. He was so far away.

But Xavier didn’t back down. Even as the ball of light surged toward him, he didn’t flinch. His Evol blazed brighter, trying to counteract the resonance that had been corrupted. He didn’t understand it entirely, didn’t realize the full depth of what was happening—but he could feel you. He could feel that you were still somewhere in there, buried beneath the surface.

The battle raged on, your body moving against your will, fighting against Xavier. Every strike he blocked only caused him more pain. His own power—the very light that had once been his most treasured ally—felt oppressive, draining. He was fighting with everything he had, trying to reach you, but you were so far gone.

Xavier’s voice cracked with pain. “Please… come back to me.”

In that moment, everything froze. Time seemed to stretch as you felt the pulse of his light reach out, gentle yet forceful, like a lifeline in the storm. He wasn’t giving up. He refused to give up on you.

Somewhere deep inside, something inside you stirred.

The Wanderer’s control over you flickered, just for an instant. And in that moment, you were able to reach him.

You couldn’t speak, but you tried—your hand, shaking and weak, reached out toward Xavier. You were trying to call him back, trying to fight the darkness that had consumed you. But the Wanderer still lingered, still pressing down on you.

Xavier saw it—he saw the fight in you. He saw that you were still there.

And that was enough.

“Hang on,” he whispered, his voice full of promise and pain. “I’ll get you back. I swear I will.”

His Evol flared one last time, combining with the resonance that had always existed between you. This time, your light—the one that connected you both—fought back the darkness with a power neither of you had ever felt before.

The battle raged between the two of you, but this time, Xavier’s light pushed through the darkness, finally forcing it back. Your own resonance fought through the haze, giving you control once again.

And as you regained yourself, breathless and broken, you saw Xavier before you—his blue eyes filled with relief, but also the weight of everything he had just fought against.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he pulled you close, holding you tightly as if afraid that if he let go, you’d slip away again.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. But even through the pain, there was nothing but tenderness in his touch.

Zayne

Zayne could feel the cold creeping up his spine long before he saw you.

The battlefield was a chaotic mess of fractured ice and broken stone, an eerie quiet hanging in the air. You had been acting strange earlier—off, distant—but he never could have predicted this. Never could have anticipated what was coming.

Your eyes were distant now, completely blank as you stood across from him, an uncharacteristic stillness in your posture. A thick chill hung in the air, and the normally comfortable bite of his ice Evol now seemed like something far more dangerous—like something hostile.

“Y/N…” His voice was tentative, unsure. His heart pounded in his chest. He knew you. Knew you better than anyone else. So, why were you standing there, so calm, so detached?

You didn’t respond.

A dark energy, one Zayne couldn’t quite explain, pulsed beneath the surface, swirling through the air like a storm, wrapping around you. It wasn’t your power—he could sense that. But what came next? That, he hadn’t expected.

You raised your hand. Your own power—Resonance—flared to life, but it wasn’t the soft, gentle way it usually did. It wasn’t amplifying his power, it wasn’t supporting him like it always did. No. This time, your Resonance vibrated in sync with Zayne’s own ice, amplifying it and twisting it to your will.

And with a sudden burst of energy, Zayne watched in horror as his own ice began to materialize around you—not as defense, but as a weapon.

It was his Evol, the one he had honed and perfected for years, the one he trusted more than anything. And now, it was being used against him. His own creation.

“Y/N!” He yelled, his voice strained with both disbelief and desperation. But you were too far gone, the energy in your eyes too overwhelming.

Without warning, you thrust your hand forward, and the ice surged at him with the force of a tidal wave. Zayne barely had time to react, his body moving on instinct as he threw up his own defenses, sending a surge of ice to block the incoming attack. But it wasn’t enough.

You were using his own power against him. Every movement, every strike was amplified by your Resonance, making the ice you conjured stronger, faster, sharper. He barely managed to dodge one attack as the ice flew past him, slicing through the air and leaving deep gashes in the ground. His heart raced.

“I won’t hurt you…” Zayne muttered to himself, his hands shaking as he summoned more ice to defend himself. He could barely keep up with you now. It wasn’t just the power, it was the control. His Evol had always been something that was intrinsically tied to his soul, his emotions, but now, in your hands, it was alien, a force completely out of his control.

And worse—he didn’t know how to fight you without hurting you. The thought alone tore him apart.

You stepped forward, the ice swirling around you like a storm. It rose from the ground, wrapping around your body like armor, and you moved toward him with terrifying speed, your eyes fixed on him with a distant, eerie look.

Zayne didn’t want to fight you. But you weren’t giving him a choice.

With a cry of frustration, Zayne shot a beam of ice at you, but you deflected it effortlessly, sending shards of his own ice right back at him. One piece grazed his arm, leaving a trail of blood beneath the frozen surface. He winced but didn’t let up, his gaze locked on yours as he took another step back.

"Please," he whispered, voice ragged with emotion. "You have to fight this."

But you didn’t respond, didn’t show any sign of recognition. You just continued to move toward him, the ice in your hands growing more elaborate with each passing moment. A large block of ice shot at him with blinding speed, and Zayne barely managed to dodge it, but he was starting to feel the weight of the battle. His own powers were being turned against him, and he couldn’t keep up.

His breath came in shallow bursts, and his mind raced. There had to be something he could do, something to stop you from using his own Evol against him. He needed you to break free from this—needed you back.

His eyes searched the ground for something—anything—that could help, but all he could see was the snow and ice he had created. Your resonance, your amplification of his ice, was making everything around them feel like a frozen prison.

Then it hit him.

You were using his ice, yes, but you were still you. There was still a trace of your presence beneath the surface, beneath the coldness and the power you now wielded. The way your movements weren’t just about destruction, but about something else—something familiar.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning: He could still reach you.

Zayne closed his eyes for just a moment and focused, pulling at the ice around him, not in anger or fear, but with something deeper—something he had never relied on before. He wasn’t just using his Evol for defense. He wasn’t trying to trap or fight you.

He was trying to connect.

A wave of ice rippled through the battlefield, but it wasn’t just a defense. It was a gesture, a soft and delicate thing, like the ice seals he had carved for you when you were children. He called upon the memory of that moment, the warmth in the act, the love behind it.

Slowly, carefully, he shaped the ice into something, a symbol. A seal. A small ice sculpture, just like the ones he had made for you all those years ago. It was perfect. Beautiful. Simple.

The ice seemed to slow around him, the energy flickering. He could feel it—the resonance between the two of you, so faint now, but it was still there.

He placed the ice seal on the ground, hoping that this small act would remind you of who you were.

"Please," Zayne whispered. "Remember me."

The ice around you hesitated. The coldness seemed to crack, breaking apart like a frozen surface thawing in the warmth of the sun. You froze in place, your hand trembling as you reached for the ice seal he had created for you.

For a long moment, nothing happened. But then—slowly, so slowly—the coldness in your eyes began to melt, replaced by a softness he had longed to see again. You dropped to your knees, gasping as the power began to drain from you, leaving you breathless but you.

Zayne’s heart swelled as he rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m here,” he whispered against your hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Zayne allowed himself to breathe. The battle was over. And you were back.

[ladykailitha]

You're a Dream to Me Part 1

I've been really struggling with Dragon Slayer and trying to get it so that it makes sense, so I'll be cycling in some of the other WIP I have in the wings until I can get it sorted out.

I thought I had another week to try and get the kinks ironed out, but I didn't.

And it ends on a bit of cliffhanger, though not the cliffhanger I original had. Which means that the NEXT chapter will ALSO have a cliffhanger. Once I get the kinks worked out of that chapter.

I hate it when stories fight me. I haven't had one this bad since the first soulmate story "Batshit Soulmates". But I will not abandon it. It just will take longer to come out then originally planned.

So! You're getting this one instead! It has a very lovely backlog and it's a great time to start putting it out because it's Valentine's Day month!

The title comes from The Cranberries song of the same name.

Summary: In a world where dreams show your true soulmate when you need them most, Steve has been having his for years but because his soulmate isn't ready yet, he's never seen what his soulmate looks like. Eddie has been having dreams about Steve Harrington since high school but more in the vein of wet dreams rather than soulmate. But when Brian's soulmate turns out to be a sweet girl who hadn't heard a heavy metal song in her life, suddenly Eddie realizes he needs to stop expecting his soulmate to look a certain way.

~

Soulmates. The world was filled with them, but only when you needed them. So there were people who went about the world without a single dream or vision. That was how you knew who they were. You would start dreaming of a person and that would be your soulmate. But only when both of you were ready.

Which meant that sometimes one soulmate went without for awhile, but the knowledge of their soulmate being out there was enough to keep them going. Sometimes they married other people or dated around. There was none of this “waiting” for their soulmate. People lived their lives as normal.

People who were married when they discovered their soulmates had a lot of options, including polyamory. Because sometimes the soulmate was platonic.

Steve had been so sure his was platonic because he started having dreams of his soulmate right out of high school, around the time he started working with Robin at Scoops Ahoy! but she knew her soulmate. Vickie Cameron. They were super sweet together.

Steve had seen all his friends get their soulmates, the hardest had been Nancy and Jonathan, because Nancy hadn’t told him she had been dreaming of her soulmate. She just told him in a drunken slur that their love was bullshit and then proceeded to sleep with Jonathan before Steve and her had even officially broken up.

Then he met Robin and for all their connectiveness, they weren’t soulmates. A thought that vexed Robin greatly. She thought it was the universe’s greatest sin that it didn’t see the chaotic potential of the two of them.

Dustin had come home the summer Steve had met Robin all rosy-cheeked and smiling. He had met his soulmate, Suzie Bingham and she was everything bright and beautiful in the world. Steve had patted him on the back, grateful that he hadn’t been left out of his friend group. And while the others hadn’t soulamated yet, but it was a pretty sure thing that Max and Lucas were soulmates and that at least two points of the Mike, Will, and El love triangle were soulmates.

It would be a year before it shook out that it was Will and Mike, as El didn’t seem to need a soulmate. Mike had had some internalized homophobia he had to battle first before he could accept that his soulmate wasn’t El, but Will.

It would be another two years before Max and Lucas sorted it out. It was their senior year and Max realized that the only person she wanted to spend her life with was Lucas and the universe confirmed it for them. Lucas had been having his dreams since they met, but they only solidified when she accepted that their love was real.

Steve’s dreams of his soulmate had always been hazy. He would dream of them curling up behind him in bed and pressing kisses to his neck or just star gazing. Those were his favorite, when they would just lay on the top of some, he assumed trailer or RV, and just talk for hours. He couldn’t hear their voice, or see their face, but he was almost 98% sure they were a man.

When he had told his parents they had scoffed. Gay soulmates were a myth made up by degenerates and deviates trying to push their agenda down everyone else’s throats. But as his father ranted and raved, Steve watched his mother. She would nod and agree, but the light behind her eyes was gone.

He strongly suspected that her soulmate was a woman, but she didn’t dare toe the line. Steve honestly felt sorry for her. And whoever her soulmate was, waiting her not to be homophobic.

It was a stormy night when his first clear dream happened. Steve’s job at the bookstore had kept him late and he had fallen face first into his pillow, with only kicking off his shoes and removing his belt.

It started out like it normally did. Steve was in a large bed in the trailer/RV snuggled up into the piles of blankets and comforters. The rain had carried through to the dream and pounded against the metal roof of their home. His back was to the door.

The front door opened and Steve could hear the sound of rain intensify and then return to its soft pattering as the door closed behind whoever had come in. Steve could hear the jangling of the guy’s belt and chains, he supposed, as the man undressed.

Then he slipped under the covers and pulled Steve close. “Hey, Stevie,” the warm voice murmured and in Steve’s drowsy state in the dream he didn’t even realize he understood what was said for the first time.

Kisses pressed against the back of his neck and Steve smiled fondly. He turned in his dream and snuggled in close. He buried his head into the soft curls at the nape of his soulmate’s neck and sighed happily.

“Someone is snuggly tonight,” the man rumbled.

But before Steve could raise his head to press a kiss to the underside of his soulmate’s jaw, suddenly there was a blazing alarm going off in his head and he was jolted awake.

But just like every other soulmate dream he had the memories of which came flooding back in the moment he could think straight.

“Holy shit!” He dove for his phone and immediately called Robin.

“Steven Abernathy Harrington,” she groused groggily into her phone, “you better have a good reason for waking me up before dawn on my day off.”

“I heard my soulmate in my dream last night.”

Then he counted down in his head, bobbing his head with it. Five, four, three, two, one...

“What?!” she screamed. “Are you fucking with me right now? No, don’t answer that. This is too important for you to lie about. And it’s definitely a guy?”

Steve hummed in the affirmative, biting on his thumb. “He sound so super sweet, too. It was warm and rumbly and I almost want to say familiar.”

There was silence on the line for a beat or two. “So maybe someone you already know?”

“That’s what it felt like,” Steve confirmed. “It was like I finally came home at last. I just wonder what happened in his life to be ready for a soulmate when he wasn’t before.”

Robin tsked. “There is no need for that kind of talk,” she huffed. “That will just lead down a dark path. It doesn’t matter why it took him so long. He’s ready now. Or at least more ready than he was before. But you’ll just have to keep dreaming of that lover boy of yours.”

“Thanks, Rob,” he murmured. “You’re bestest friend a guy could hope for.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she teased. “Now, excuse me while I go back to bed and sleep.”

“Sleep well.” He ended the call and pressed the phone against his lips. He wanted to go back bed and dream more. But he had store to open and a job to do. One he loved, no less. So reluctantly he got out of bed to start his day.

~

Eddie woke up that morning feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. He wished he could blame it on a hangover from partying all night, but no. He had crashed face first into his pillow from the long ass drive they had taken to get into Dayton the second he had gotten checked-in.

He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He had dreamed about Steve Harrington. Again. This crush was getting wildly out of hand. But then it had been since he watched Billy Hargrove and him playing against each other in a skins game. Steve was on the skins team and hooboy.

Those shorts sat a little too low on his hips to be decent and the towel tucked into the back of them sought to bring them even further down. It was fucking sinful.

The dream had started as they always had, him slipping into his bedroom in his Uncle Wayne’s trailer and taking off his clothes. But then the dream changed from the usual hot sex to Steve cuddling up under his chin.

Eddie had gotten breathless from the idea of Steve initiating the sex for the first time in the dream when suddenly there was a knock on his door jolting him awake.

The knocking persisted, forcing him to his feet. He shuffled over to the door and swung it open, rubbing his eyes.

On the other side of the door was his manager, Chrissy Cunningham. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Just what the fuck do you call this time?” she hissed at him, pushing him into the hotel room. “We have to be at sound check in an hour. Hurry and get your shower, I’ll have clothes ready for you when you get out.”

Eddie hurried to do as he was told. He must have forgotten to set his alarm before pillow diving. He scrubbed his face in the shower, trying to get the dream out of his head. But it lingered in a way the didn’t normally.

He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. “Sorry, Chris. I must have either forgot to set the alarm or I slept right through it.”

Chrissy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I know. You’re usually so good at it. So I’m not mad, just frustrated because we’re running late.”

Eddie nodded and then turned around to drop towel and scrambled to put on the clothes she had laid out for him and then ducked back into the bathroom to do his hair. With his insistence to keep it long, it was a bit of hassle to keep it from frizzing out. Then he was ready.

Once they were in the car that would be taking them to the venue, Chrissy leaned over and asked, “Hey are you okay? You aren’t usually late.”

Which was true, despite all of the ADHD-ness of all of him, he was stickler for being on time, early if he could help it.

He shook his head. “Dreams, man. Some dreams just knock you out until they’re done with you.”

Jeff rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Meaning he was too embarrassed to answer the door because he had another wet dream of...” his voice went falsetto, “Steve Harrington!”

“Fuck off!” Eddie snarled. He knew that it was a long running joke with his other bandmates, but today it felt like it crossed a line.

Jeff blinked at him for a moment. “Okay, definitely didn’t come if he’s that grumpy. Shit, dude, no need to rip my head off.”

“I’d have to attest to the not coming,” Chrissy said with a gentle elbow in Eddie’s side to show that she was joking, “he looked all cute and sleep rumpled this morning. I know the ‘no longer horny’ look, and this wasn’t it.”

“But it’s still obvious he dreamed of Steve,” Brian huffed with a barely suppressed smile. “He’s got that far away look in his eyes that he only gets when he thinks about his loverboy.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes and pulled out his earbuds. He stuck them in his ears and turned up his music as loud as he could, staring out the window.

Jeff and Chrissy glanced at each other and grimaced. Whatever this was with Eddie, it wasn’t usual Eddie drama.

“So is your soulmate coming to the concert, Bri?” Chrissy asked, choosing to ignore the brooding Eddie for the moment. “I can have the box office comp a couple of tickets if you wanted.”

Brian brightened up. “That would be great! Sophie was saying that she’d never been to a live concert before.”

“Man,” Gareth groaned throwing back his head roughly against the seat cushion. “You really lucked out on the soulmate department. Sophie is sweet, hot, and bakes like a fucking pro!”

Brian shook his head. “It’s not my fault your soulmate is a diva. Like the real lucky one is Jeff who got his like right after we got a record deal. She’s been his ride or die like the whole time.”

Jeff sighed happily. “I really, really did. I wish she could have made it out this tour, but gestating twins isn’t easy being in one place, I can’t imagine doing it on the road.”

Gareth kicked the seat between Chrissy and Eddie. “We all thought it was going to be you and Eddie for sure.”

Eddie just sneered and went back to gazing out the window. He had too. Chrissy was everything he thought he wanted in a soulmate. Yeah, she was a former cheerleader, but she liked heavy metal and was a perfect mix of sweet and sassy. She never put up with his bullshit but was there when he hit his lowest point.

But then Chrissy met her soulmate and Eddie was forced to reevaluate his whole life choices. Chrissy’s soulmate was a bassist for an all female metal band called Lilith’s Little Monsters. Georgia was a perky blonde in three inch heels and ripped denim.

That was when he realized he was gay. That liking the same gender was okay. So he went into the whole homosexuality feet first and swinging. He was so sure that the reason he hadn’t gotten his soulmate dreams yet was because he had thought it was a girl, but when Georgia came screaming into their lives at Hellfest last year, he still didn’t start receiving them.

But that was before sweet Sophie came into their life. She wasn’t a metalhead like Miranda or Georgia nor a musician like Leon, Gareth’s soulmate. Leon played violin in an alt rock band. Which was still pretty badass. He was also a bit of a bitch, but that’s what happens when your soulmate was Gareth Hughes. Sophie would absolutely be mistaken as a soccer mom and president of the PTA. She radiating wholesome vibes, which Brian absolutely needed in his life.

That his soulmate could be anyone really opened Eddie up to the endless possibilities. And fuck wasn’t that a kick in the head.

~

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