#that part seems to have stood up to him the most

[feeder86]

Glorious

“Oh, here he comes,” nodded Anna towards the entrance door. “Quarter to eight every Friday night, without fail!”

Bobby turned his head to gaze excitedly towards their regular customer; his personal favorite since he had started working at this buffet place back in September. Although he didn’t know the guy’s name, he knew enough to recognise him as one of the college football players; eye-wateringly tall and incredibly muscular, despite only being nineteen. Underneath his large arm was yet another new girl, short and petite beside him. She’d dressed up well, clearly hoping to impress him, much like all the others. Yet Bobby had never seen this guy ever come here on a second date with the same person, and this girl was about to experience why that was.

It was often said that within the four walls of this all-you-can-eat restaurant, the staff would see the absolute worst traits of humanity. After seating them and serving the drinks, the workers watched from afar as the football player set to his mission of devouring plate after plate, hardly making any conversation at all. It was the same routine every week; the girls would always start off looking so smitten and then gradually become quite surprised at how much focus their date had in gorging himself like some sort of competitive eater. They would often go quiet during the middle part of the meal, merely watching in surprise at first, followed by a distinct glare of disgust at their date. One by one, folks from the surrounding tables would start to notice and nudge the others they were seated with to look across. Such disdain was shared by Bobby’s colleagues, hardly able to look as the guy stuffed and packed himself as hard as he could. Sure, there were plenty of older, fat folks who came in and tried to do this too, gaming the system by eating as much as they could. Yet, Bobby hadn’t witnessed anyone capable of eating as much as the handsome guy seated now. 

Bobby had always thought himself strange and quirky, with a somewhat alternative taste in guys. However, he had never considered himself so different to those around him than when he was watching the handsome guy eating. The indulgence, gluttony and greed, it seemed to him like the most masculine and arousing thing he had ever seen. So whilst others tutted and grumbled in disapproval, he was actually struggling to hide how incredibly turned on he was at the sight.

“Seven, eight, nine… that’s ten full plates this evening!” Bobby smirked, attending to their table. “One more and you’d have the house record!” he joked, stacking them all up on his forearm.

The guy grinned, leaning back and rubbing his bloated midsection. “Well, in that case…” he chuckled, beginning to get himself up for one final round.

“Matt, please don’t!” called out his date reaching across to his large hand. “You can’t go up again. It’s embarrassing!” She turned to Bobby instead. “Can we just have the check, please?”

Bobby looked a little confused, knowing the glutton’s routine by now. “But you’ve not had any of the desserts yet,” he reminded them.

“Exactly!” nodded Matt, smirking as he got up to fetch some more food for himself.

Huffing in annoyance, the girl dipped her hands into her purse and threw a few notes on the table before storming off. Bobby stood there awkwardly, wondering whether he should say something to make her stay. After taking the plates, he returned to the table just as Matt was making his way back with his eleventh plate of food.

“She’s really gone already?” he asked Bobby; surprised but not seeming overly offended.

“Her loss!” Bobby smiled consolingly, noticing that Matt had stacked this final plate higher than any of the others; his muscular stomach bloating up a treat. “Would you like another beer?”

Already chewing, the greedy man nodded and grunted in agreement, hunched over and eagerly spotting the cash that had been left on the table; more than enough to pay for his date’s meal, as well as a few drinks for himself. 

“You’re not getting tired, are you?” Bobby teased, returning to the table moments later with the beer, to see Matt holding his stretched-out stomach. “I’ve yet to see you not clear a plate.”

Matt wiped a little sweat off his brow and chuckled at his endeavor. “Oh, don’t you worry,” he grinned. “I’ll finish it. Then I’m going to hit the ice cream!”

“Would you like me to fetch you some?” Bobby asked, surprising even himself at his eagerness. 

Matt looked up at him and smiled. He knew just as well as any of the customers that the people who worked here didn’t collect food items for their patrons. “Sure!” he cried, delighted. “But don’t skimp on the…”

“Chocolate sauce and brownie pieces,” Bobby shot back, chuckling. “It’s not my first time serving your table,” he joked, setting straight off.

There was an excited ball of energy swirling inside Bobby’s lungs as he began dispensing the ice cream. All of this would soon be inside that beautiful, greedy guy’s body. He wanted to make it look the best that it could: enticing and indulgent.

“Ooo! I like the layering!” Matt marvelled as he handed over his now empty plate and exchanged it for the sundae that had been made for him.

“We get a lot of folks who like their ice cream in here. I’ve learned a thing or two,” Bobby smiled back, lingering to see the man take his first spoonful. His admiration seemed to shine through; being so short and slender himself, he couldn’t help looking up to these big, greedy guys with complete awe.

Despite being alone at his table now, Matt gorged himself happily, getting up again and again for multiple other desserts. Bobby felt elated that he had at last developed a rapport with the guy he had been crushing on for so long now. Continuing to clear plates and bowls, jokingly keep count with him.

“You’d better get him out of here or he’s going to throw up,” the manager, Jessica, suddenly whispered to Bobby.

“He’s fine,” Bobby shot back. He looked across at that perfect, gluttonous specimen, knowing that he could handle it. Even if the worst did happen and he threw up, what did it matter to him? Bobby was finishing in five minutes anyway.

“Get him the check and move him out,” Jessica growled uncompromisingly, rather concerned that Bobby didn’t share her justified worries. 

Sighing, Bobby did as he was told, apologising to Matt as he went over to him and gave him the usual line about the time allocated to the tables and the need for him to finish up. “Probably for the best,” Matt grunted, looking stretched out and stuffed. He paid up, huffing and groaning from the tightness. Then, in his own time, he stood up to leave, eyes watching him all the way to the exit as he clutched his now clearly distended stomach.

Bobby grabbed his jacket, happy to finish early and avoid the clean up, then headed out into the chilly night. He hadn’t made it out of the car park when a horn sounded and lights flashed from a truck that suddenly pulled up alongside him. “You heading back up to the campus?” asked Matt, sliding down his window to offer a lift.

It was a chilly night. Surprised, but nodding keenly, Bobby gratefully accepted the offer, hopping around to the passenger side. He’d seen this huge truck parked up on campus so many times, but he had always assumed it belonged to one of the guys in security. It didn’t seem like a reasonable vehicle for a nineteen year old second year student to be driving around in, yet it also appeared o suit Matt perfectly: big, bold and thirsty, just like him.

“Excuse the mess,” Matt chuckled as Bobby’s foot kicked a large pile of take out cartons and boxes filling up the footwell. “I meant to clean that out before.”

“It’s okay,” Bobby smiled back, buckling himself in and trying not to stare at the bloated stomach on the guy that was turning him on so much. There was an arousing, masculine musk inside the truck, with so many clear indications of Matt’s great appetite for food.

“So, how did I do?” Matt asked, starting to drive out onto the road. It was obvious what he was referring to, seeming pumped and proud of himself for how insanely he had attacked the buffet.

“My manager was getting pretty worried,” Bobby admitted, getting a sense that it was exactly the type of thing Matt wanted to hear.

Matt laughed heartily, clearly delighted. “I thought as much,” he nodded. “She kept on looking at me. And not in a good way!”

“We get a few folks like you who come in, clearly knowing how to play it. They avoid the breads and the pasta that they know will fill them up too fast, and they always eat so much that there is no hope of the restaurant turning a profit. You seem to have an instinctive knowledge of which items are the most expensive for us to serve up as well.”

Again, Matt laughed, his face a picture of delight. He appeared to like being told how clever he was, and asked Bobby to elaborate on several of his points. Even as they parked up on the campus a few minutes later, Matt was still questioning Bobby on the ins and outs of the buffet and how best to get way more than his money’s worth.

“Of course, that all depends on whether you could eat that much,” Bobby rambled on, having just listed the ten best things to consume if Matt wanted to ensure he made the most of his money. “Not many people can. But it’s always fun when there’s a big, greedy guy in and he’s properly going for it.”

There was a pumped energy to Matt as he listened, taking in every word like it was the most thrilling conversation of his life. “And what do those types of guys look like?” he asked excitedly. “Do you spot them as soon as they come in?”

Bobby hummed as he thought how best to answer the question. “You can usually identify them pretty easily. They’re generally pretty massive, carrying fairly enormous guts on them. We don’t often get the more athletic types, like you, who can eat that much. That’s partly why you stand out so clearly. Do you do some competitive eating contests or something? You’re actually the best I’ve ever seen.”

“The trick is to work on stretching out your stomach,” Matt replied enthusiastically, turning a little to face Bobby better. “I’ve been working on some exercises for weeks and I pop a couple of these before a meal,” he stated, passing Bobby a small bottle of what seemed to be appetite enhancers.

“I’ve seen this brand before,” Bobby nodded, obvioudly surprising Matt that he knew anything at all about appetite stimulants. “Do they work? I’ve heard conflicting things about them.”

Matt’s eyes were practically dancing now, his mouth wide in a smile as he nodded ecstatically. “Yeah, I read the same things!” he smiled in delight, turning even more to face Bobby better. “But I still had to give them a go. I’m a greedy guy anyway, so I’m not sure if the effect is purely psychological,” he chuckled, seemingly captivated by Bobby and everything that came out of his mouth.

“There’s another brand…” Bobby tried to think. “I know it only came out recently, but…”

All at once, Matt was upon him; his lips crashing into Bobby’s as he took him in a deep kiss, right there in the truck. They stayed that way for several moments, coming out for a brief pause, before heading straight back in. Upon the second wave of kisses, hands began to explore bodies and Matt grabbed one of Bobby’s wrists, placing his hand very directly on the bloated, swollen stomach that had been created that night. As Bobby began to rub, the guy moaned with pleasure; his kisses becoming even more manic. He hopped out of the truck, heading back into the halls and ushering for Bobby to follow him. Then off they went up the stairs to Matt’s bedroom, where they stripped and made each other climax until they were contentedly sleeping, side by side.

At some point in the early hours, Bobby began to feel a little insecure. He’d done this before; been caught up in a romantic session with a supposedly ‘straight’ guy and then ended up being ignored by them ever since. This whole thing with Matt would undoubtedly end the same way when the stud woke up and realised that he wasn’t sharing a bed with the hot girl he had taken out for dinner the night before, but rather some comparitively weedy, nerdy guy from across the campus. Bobby hadn’t realised just how much shorter than Matt he was until they had walked up to his room; his body slender and little more than slightly toned. Matt, on the other hand, was a gorgeous, large hunk; his long, hairy legs sticking out of the bed as he slept, without a need for the covers over his powerful body that pumped out a ridiculous amount of heat. Bobby couldn’t bear to see the look of regret on Matt’s face the next morning. Last night had been the best experience of his life so far, so why not bottle it and keep it safe, without the inevitably painful after-taste?

“Hey, Bobby! Can I have a word?” Matt called out a couple of days later, running to catch up as he saw him heading towards a class with a couple of his friends.

Bobby’s friends looked upwards at the towering hunk and then back to Bobby. How did this hunky guy know Bobby? In what possible circumstances could such opposing personalities have crossed paths? Yet, their curiosity would have to wait as Bobby looked at them both, sending them on and promising to catch them up.

“You snuck out without saying goodbye on Friday night,” Matt mumbled, sounding more than a little confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I just didn’t think you’d want me there in the morning,” Bobby replied. “I didn’t want you to have to stress, sneaking me out of your building.”

“Sneak you out?” Matt asked, getting closer to Bobby, his fingertips stroking Bobby’s arms. “I’ve never felt better connected to anyone in my entire life than I did on Friday night.”

Bobby’s heart skipped a beat. Was this giant, handsome stud really saying this to him? “I wasn’t sure that you would still feel the same way in the morning,” he replied; the legacy of being spurned by several guys resonating through his low tones. But as Matt’s large hand pulled up his chin, he stared hard into the eyes of the man he knew he could fall pathetically in love with. Then, as the towering man stooped and kissed him right there on the busy campus, Bobby did not resist.

“Come on,” Matt smiled sweetly, pulling Bobby’s hand. “I’ll drive you to your class.”

Bobby thought it best not to go empty-handed when he went over to Matt’s room that night. In a bag, he carried a pack of beers his cousin had bought him. Beer had always tasted disgusting to Bobby, which was why they had been sitting unused under his bed for months. He’d been told that they were watching a movie and, not knowing which snacks Matt would prefer, he’d brought a selection: popcorn, honey-glazed nuts, ice cream and cookies. After kissing him sweetly upon his arrival, Matt dug through the bag greedily, ripping the bag of nuts open immediately and inspecting the nutritional information on the back. “There’re almost six hundred calories in this bag alone!” he smiled excitedly.

Concentrating on the movie was not easy. Slurping on the beers, rummaging through the popcorn, cookies and nuts, Matt was more than a distraction. He’d poured the now runny ice cream into a vast novelty beer tankard that he had on his shelf and began sipping from it.

“Do you eat like this all the time?” Bobby asked, unable to hide the arousal in his voice as he watched the greedy boy in action.

Continuing to chomp, the handsome man grinned at him. “I try to,” he nodded.

“Are we still going to order in pizza afterwards as well?” Bobby asked, ignoring the movie now and shifting himself so that he was sitting on Matt’s lap, too aroused to ignore the man’s grotesque appetite anymore.

Smiling at the attention, Matt nodded. “Of course we are,” he replied, patting his muscular stomach which was already bloating from the finished ice cream. “I want to show you exactly how much I can eat.”

The pair kissed and fondled each other as the movie played on, ignored entirely. With the snacks depleted and two full beers down Matt’s throat, the guy was as hard as they came, moaning loudly with every slight movement of Bobby’s hand as it found its way into his underwear. Twice they came before the pizza arrived that night, and twice afterwards, as Matt gorged himself on slice after slice, until his stomach had blown up into a monstrous ball, packed to the max.

To say that people had been surprised by the new pairing would be a considerable understatement. To the eye, such a contrasting couple could never work. Matt was so tall, athletic, broad and muscular, yet Bobby was shorter than even the average guy; with a slight build, slender waist and considerably greater academic aspirations. It was almost frustrating how quickly they were written off by some people as being doomed to fail. With such stark hobbies and interests, they couldn’t possibly have enough in common to make it more than a few weeks. But, why? Was it because they were both guys? Did people assume that a gay couple needed to match on many more different levels, not least their appearance? No one batted an eyelid with straight couples when, like Matt and Bobby, one person was obsessed with watching sports and the other disliked it intensely.

A couple of months into their new relationship, the two lovers had booked themselves into a motel after travelling quite some distance for Matt to complete a food challenge at a restaurant he had long admired from afar. The insane portions of the food challenge had both frightened and thrilled them, wondering whether Matt had it in him to defeat it all and get his picture up on the ‘Wall of Fame’. It had sparked conversations that had aroused them both for weeks, thinking of ways to develop Matt’s appetite even further and increase his already startling capacity.

When the day had finally arrived, Matt had barely been able to shake off his erection, fueled by both nerves and anticipation. Bobby had been dutifully sitting at the table the entire time, sometimes rubbing his knee supportively. And, whilst Matt didn’t get the record time, he did complete the task with surprising efficiency, smiling proudly as he posed, bloated belly out, alongside the restaurant owner for his picture to go up on the wall. Bobby had provided him the big, sloppy blow job he had promised him and the pair talked excitedly about the next challenges well into the night.

The next morning, Matt had woken up feeling incredibly turned on still. Bobby had smiled contentedly as the large man fondled him to wake up and take it for him, agreeing without any hesitation to roll over and let the big man have some fun with him. He watched as Matt stood up at the side of the bed, ready to feed his substantial erection into his eager butt, when a curious sight caught his attention in the mirror positioned to the side of the bed.

“Are you still bloated?” Bobby asked, staring hard at Matt’s shape.

“No, I feel fine,” Matt replied, excitedly lubricating his hardness up.

“Well then, you’ve definitely gained a few pounds,” Bobby replied, smirking. “Your sides look pretty puffy. You could almost call them love handles!” he laughed.

Matt immediately turned his attention to the mirror, lifting his arms up and feeling the skin with a solitary finger. “Fuck!” he cried out in surprise; his abs barely holding on as an undeniable softness began to invade his core. He pressed himself into his boyfriend, gyrating his hips as he continued to study his reflection in the mirror. “I’m actually looking fucking doughy!” he observed, watching the faint flutter in his middle.

“My big, greedy boy!” Bobby moaned back, pushing his small butt into his lover’s groin.

“Mmm! Yeah!” Matt moaned back, pounding him harder, fascinated by the reflection in the mirror. “Greedy boys shouldn’t have abs, should they?” he asked, clearly turning himself on. “This is all that full-fat milk you’ve been getting me to drink to stretch out my stomach for the challenge, isn’t it?”

Bobby moaned with pleasure. “Maybe,” he replied coyly back. Matt had always been a big-eater, but he had never been consistently overdoing it every single day until they had been training him up for the food challenge. The man pounded harder, holding his arm back like a porn star so that he could still get a good view of his body in the mirror, climaxing with a satisfied sigh in remarkable speed, studying his own reflection.

“So, what’s this?” asked Pete, Matt’s cousin, poking him in the stomach that summer. “All that eating finally catching up to you?” he teased the strapping guy.

Matt grinned back and Bobby’s eyes flashed with delight. Despite the subtle paunch that was slowly emerging on Matt, not a single person had commented on it until now. For the whole two weeks that Matt had stayed with Bobby’s family, the guy’s insane eating went unchallenged. Even Matt’s own wholesome, polite family seemed unwilling to pull up their boy on how much he was overdoing it.

“You think so?” Matt asked, pulling up his t-shirt to give his similarly aged cousin a look at the swollen midsection, where his abs had recently been obliterated and replaced by a distinctly pudgy stomach. He leaned heavily forward, letting the new chub form two distinct fat rolls, one of which draped gently over his waistband.

“Jeez!” Pete exclaimed, watching the display with fascination until Matt stood back upright again and covered himself up. “I’ve gotta say though, it’s about time!” he smirked, looking at Bobby as he was about to recall a story from their past. “Matty always used to follow me home after school and have dinner with my folks. Then he’d go back to his own house and have dinner there as well. His parents had no idea!” he laughed.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Bobby chuckled back, looking adoringly up at his lover.

“How long did you get away with that for?” Pete asked Matt now. “Two years?”

“Almost three!” Matt shot back proudly. “I think it’s the reason why I grew so tall.”

Pete rolled his eyes at his cousin’s complete lack of shame. “Well, these days, you won’t be growing upwards with too much food… only outwards!! You’ll need to watch this one, Bobby,” Pete joked. “Give him an inch and he takes a mile.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got the measure of him!” Bobby smiled up at his large lover.

Pete looked from one to the other, seeming to sense how intense their affection for one another was. Within a month, Matt had dropped the L-bomb. Without a hint of embarrassment, Matt never worried about holding his hand in public, nor being openly affectionate in front of anyone.

Inviting Pete along for lunch with them had been a genius move. He’d been startled by Matt’s even more extreme appetite and hadn’t held back in saying so. By the end of the meal, he’d poked and prodded his cousin’s extremely distended gut, hardly believing that he was the same man. Such comments never failed to thrill Bobby and Matt, neither of them truly able to contemplate how lucky they were to have found someone who got such a buzz from something so outwardly unusual.

“Oh my goodness!” Bobby proclaimed, heading back into his dorm room after a shift at the restaurant a few weeks later. He kissed Matt, who was sitting up in his bed and then stepped back to take off his jacket. “We had such a pig in tonight!”

Matt, who usually liked to hang out in Bobby’s room because of the large container of snacks Bobby kept in for him, sat up more with interest; his hand still half inside the giant bag of potato chips he was feeding himself. “Oh, yeah?” he smirked. “Tell me more!”

“He hit the meats as soon as he came in, just like you do,” Bobby began to explain. “But he just kept going at it, again and again. His girlfriend was with him and she did not approve at all! It was so funny!”

“Same technique as me, huh?” Matt smiled, swinging his long legs out of the bed to sit upright. He reached out and grabbed Bobby’s slender hips, pulling him in. Then, with one large hand, he rubbed Bobby’s groin until a distinct hardness burst into life. “Was he big too?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Bobby sighed, enjoying being touched. He felt his belt being upstrapped and Matt’s hand reaching in to pull his shaft out and stroke it with more purpose.

Gluttony had always been a turn on of Matt’s, and the man took exceptional pleasure in trying to draw out such kinks from Bobby too. “Tell me what he looked like,” Matt requested, stimulating his lover slowly and purposefully.

“About 400lbs,” Bobby replied, delighted to have such attention thrust upon him.

Matt smiled excitedly. “A very big, greedy boy then!” he nodded encouragingly, knowing how aroused such talk could get his boyfriend. “Was his belly nice and round and full?”

Bobby moaned. He wasn’t going to take long to climax tonight. He was already trying to breathe and slow things down. However, with his free hand, Matt was already grabbing a thick wedge of the new belly fat that had destroyed the jock’s previous abs, looking up to Bobby in the hope that was going to get off to it.

“A beautiful belly,” Bobby agreed, no longer sure whether he was talking about the guy in the restaurant, or his own boyfriend. Either way, he came not long afterwards, shooting straight over Matt’s naked torso, where the guy pushed out his stomach as far as it would go, smiling proudly.

Despite Matt’s extreme eating, he still remained a fierce force on the football team. The extra weight had broadened his handsome glutes out and developed a nicely overstuffed look to his paunchy stomach. However, despite the initial hesitations, Matt’s coach had been simply delighted by the impact it was having on the games they played. Matt hit harder, charged through the lines and easily threw off the other guys. After a game, Matt was grinning proudly for days as his status around the campus only seemed to increase. Sure, he wasn’t built for speed like he used to be, and he wasn’t as much of a pretty-boy as some of the new guys in first year; but he was an absolute beast on the field, quickly turning into a legend.

The lovestruck couple shared many presents with each other that holiday period, but none stuck out quite so much as Bobby’s tongue-in-cheek gift of 5XL underwear to Matt. The guy had laughed when he saw them and his eyes widened as he pulled them out of the box and unfolded them. “So this is what the real greedy boys are wearing these days?” he asked, sitting across from his petite lover and imagining being large enough to one day fill them. The pair kissed, both of them inexplicably aroused. Matt moaned and rubbed the back of Bobby’s head as the guy went down between his legs and began to suck him off; a full day of gorging, burping and snide remarks from family ahead.

Slowly but surely, Matt continued to quietly pack on a considerable amount of pure fat. The tight waistband of his underwear and sweatshorts dug unflatteringly into his flesh, carving up his huge glutes and the significant back fat created from his love handles. After the final summer break before fourth year, Matt’s coach had at last tried to reel him back in, proclaiming that Matt would be cut from the team if he didn’t lose at least fifteen pounds before the end of November. However, by the time that deadline arrived, Matt had gone out of his way to ensure that he’d packed on at least another thirty pounds instead.

“Too fat and greedy to play football!” Matt had declared proudly, stripping his shirt from his body, just as he always did when he made it into Bobby’s room.

“Your coach actually did it?” Bobby asked; his eyes twinkling with the same mischief as could be seen in Matt’s eyes.

“He sure did!” Matt grinned as his boyfriend launched into a sideways hug that fully emphasised the huge width of his body. “No more football for this guy! It’s official: you’re no longer dating one of the jocks!”

“No more training sessions, no more games!” Bobby added, guiding his huge boy into the mirror so that he could better appreciate the vast contrast between their extraordinary bodies: Bobby’s short and slender 125lb physique pressing up against the vast, broad and bloated frame of a 370lb Matt.

Matt chuckled and kissed his kinky lover appreciatively. “You’re finally going to get the greedy, overfed and under-exercised lover of your dreams!” he declared proudly.

Bobby nodded back excitedly, pulling his fat boyfriend into the creaking bed. They both knew then that this was the start of something very enticing indeed.

After graduating, the two boys soon settled into a nice apartment in the city, deciding that they could make a good go of things, even on the meagre salaries of their entry-level jobs. It had been a focus of theirs for years, picking up as many different types of experience that would make them immediately employable, above and beyond the hundreds of other graduates that were pumped out of the college each year. Simply maintaining Matt’s 410lb weight had been a struggle in those early days, and the fantasies they had both had about Matt outgrowing his work pants within a few short weeks had failed to materialise for over an entire year. However, even without the gains, the guy’s body still seemed to be going through a transitional period, becoming softer and more plush with every passing month. They’d save up and hit the buffet, or drive out to somewhere with a disgustingly massive eating challenge, where Matt could have his increasingly chubby face plastered across yet another ‘Wall of Fame’ in the restaurant. 

Once Matt did begin growing consistantly again, he did so with relish. Pure, fresh blubber spread itself across a rounded, jiggling stomach, swelling and sagging the nipples, as well as creating the most extraordinary double chin that Bobby had ever seen. His face had swollen up with large, puffy cheeks, with Matt refusing to quit shaving, nor attempt to hide any of it from view. Like a final surrender, his body was at last gaining in a way that it had simply refused to do in the past. New, exciting considerations needed to be made: stronger chairs, double plane seats, larger showers, seatbelt extensions.

“Heh! Look at these!” Matt chuckled, picking up a pair of Bobby’s underwear as the guy briefly rested a pile of fresh laundry on the couch whilst he attended to something else. The large, spherical man draped them over his large gut, hardly believing the tiny size. “Are these really what you wear?” he laughed again. “I don’t think I could even fit my arm in these!” he stated with complete pride; taking for granted the extreme size of the clothing that he now needed to purchase in order to cover up his gigantic body.

“That’s because you’re the one with such a good appetite!” Bobby smiled back, always enjoying the striking contrast between them both. He went over to his lover, perching himself on the very end of Matt’s knee and leaned into the large stomach so that he could kiss Matt sweetly on his lips, whilst simultaneously rubbing that giant stomach of his. Even after all these years, he really couldn’t believe that such a gluttonous specimen was all his; the epitome of the type of guys he lusted after all those years ago when he had worked in the all-you-can-eat restaurant.

Matt moaned in appreciation of being worshipped like this, knowing full well that his lover would never hold him back from his determination to consume all the food that he would ever want. “Let’s get married!” he declared, not for the first time.

Bobby sat up a little and rolled his eyes. They had so many things they were saving up for; getting their deposit together for the house they now owned had taken them months of pure financial pain. Then there was the inevitably long list of repairs and maintenance that came along with house ownership. “We can’t afford it,” he sighed unhappily.

“Sure we can,” Matt shrugged. “We just hold back on some of the other things we wanted to do for a little while.” He pulled Bobby in to kiss him sweetly once more. “I’m so unbelievably happy. I just want to show the entire world.”

Bobby smiled back, returning the sentiment, despite his unrelentingly practical head that couldn’t commit to the idea of paying out for a wedding anytime soon.

“Back when I realised all this eating was a thing for me,” Matt began, rubbing the vast, gigantic stomach on himself, “I always thought that it was going to be the biggest problem I would ever face in life.” He looked deeply in Bobby’s eyes. “Once I realised how extreme my appetite was and how much I got off to overindulging, I thought the only thing I could ever hope for was to find someone who would just put up with me; anyone at all! I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that I would find someone who would love me like you do; someone who would let my great appetite show in the way that you do. I’m absolutely the man I’m supposed to be,” he smiled, holding a plentiful wedge of stomach fat in his large hand, “and it’s all because I found you!”

Accepting another kiss, Bobby sighed with contentment. Matt had always been the sweetest guy he had ever met. He expressed his own adoration and gratitude at finding the love of his life whilst serving a table at work, of all places! Everything they both felt was absolutely true: they were completely made for each other.

“Okay,” Bobby nodded. “Let’s do it,” he smiled excitedly, allowing himself to picture a wedding day for the first time. “Let’s get married!”

“You mean it?” Matt beamed back, holding Bobby tightly as he realised that he was serious. “This is incredible!” he blasted. “If only we had some champagne that we could pop right now,” he chuckled, overwhelmed with delight.

“How about I fetch you a tub of ice cream instead?” Bobby joked back, patting his fiance's humongous stomach.

Matt grinned, nodding with approval. “Sure,” he smiled. “I guess that will do instead,” he chuckled, sitting back once more and sighing with complete contentment: the life he had always dreamed of. The perfect life for both of them.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 1: The first meeting

Masterlist

The female that stood before them looked tiny. She was a lot shorter than an average faerie. However, she stood proudly and held her head high. She had small wounds all over her body. Small cuts that already should have healed, but they hadn’t. It was something else that made his attention go towards her.

Her wings were mesmerizing.

They were iridescent and had a glow that lit up parts of the dark hall.

It seemed like Amarantha was just at enchanted by them as he was.

However, the female only had one and a half wing. The upper part of her left wing was sliced off. He himself only had experience with Illyrian wings and he could only imagine the pain she must have felt.

Both the physical pain, but also the pain of no longer being able to fly.

Rhysand had never seen anyone with similar wings. It seemed like most of the people around him hadn’t.

“Where are you from girl?” Amarantha asked with her most ice voice. Even the slight threat made her nervous, and Rhys knew she wasn’t comfortable at the moment.

“Dawn,” the female answered proudly. Something about the way she presented herself felt familiar. It made him understand that she was carrying an act. The female was convincing and it seemed like only he was able to detect her unsureness.

Amarantha sent an icy glance over to Thesan and Rhys could almost feel the panic grow within the High Lord. Thesan had hidden someone for twenty years. Rhys had done the same. He only hoped Amarantha never would learn about the city he kept hidden.

“And why haven’t you presented yourself to me before now?”

It amazed him that the female didn’t even flinch as Amarantha questioned her. She did her best to look as calm as she was the moment she walked in. She still stood tall and proudly. She had definitely been trained in this. Her trainer had to be good.

“We only leave our territory when our High Lord call for us. It’s not something he does often. We got a letter, a false request from our High Lord, and we went to meet him. On the way there, we got captured.”

“Who is we?”

“My general and I. They killed him.”

Lethal. She spoke with lethal precision. Precision he had only heard from one person before.

“Rhysand,” Amarantha spoke, and he almost got shivers down his back. “Is she telling the truth?”

He hated going into people’s minds without permission, but he didn’t have a choice. He reached out to the female’s mind and immediately hit a solid wall of…tulips?

Confusion spread through him and he was about to pull out of her mind when a small hole opened and he got sucked inn instead.

“Sarah?” you yelled as loudly you possibly could.

Little two year old Sarah had just learned to fly and she tended to disappear every time you looked away. Normally that would be okay, but being eight months pregnant and running after a two year old wasn’t easy.

It didn’t help that flying made you throw up.

“Sarah?”

She still didn’t answer, so you picked up the bottom of your dress and started running. Normally running barefoot through the forest would be calming for you, but now you did your best to not freak out.

You looked behind every tree and stone and did your best to try to smell her.

“Sarah? Please! It’s dinner time soon.”

You stopped to catch your breath and that’s when your heard her.

“That’s my mommy,” her cute little voice sang from your right and you were so lucky you had found her.

You had gone through 15 terrible twos, this would not be the time where you lost a child.

You turned and expected to find Sarah talking to some flowers or maybe a bird, but to your total horror a male was crunched down in front of her.

He stood up the second he saw you. He was extremely tall and he had huge bat like wings. He held Sarah’s small hand and even though her arm was over her head, he still had to lean down a little to not lift her off the ground. His gaze was soft, but he couldn’t fool you.

You charged towards him and almost threw yourself at him. He only faltered a couple of steps and that annoyed you. However, he let go of Sarah’s hand. You picked her up and immediately flew away.

The nausea hit you immediately, but you didn’t care. Your toddler was safe and angry in your arms and that was all that mattered.

However, you couldn’t help to notice the wind brushing over your skin softer than usual.

Perhaps it wasn’t wind…

Was it shadows?

“Y/N,” Sky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “I think we both know what you need.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered him.

Sky was the person in the world that knew you better than anyone. You knew he knew you were lying, but you didn’t care. You shouldn’t be wishing for more than you already had.

“Come on,” he answered and dragged you up and out of your house.

The two of you flew all the way to the edge of your territory and when you reached the shield, you landed beside each other.

“Go for it,” he said. “I’ll be home when you get back. But please, Y/N, you need this.”

He then flew away before you even had the change to hesitate.

He wanted you to go out of the safety barrier. He wanted you to explore and find your happiness again.

It had been almost 150 years. 150 years where you had felt stuck and helpless. Years where your wings had been glowing less and less. To the point where even the healers started to worry.

You had thought about leaving many times before. You had written about it in your journal but never told anyone. You realized that Sky probably had read your journal and decided to yell at him for it later, but it would have to wait.

You were going on an adventure. ��

You walked up to the magical shield and felt the familiar feeling of it pressing against you. You had gone that far at least a hundred times before, but never further.

This time, you did.

You pushed against the magic until it unexpectedly let go of you. You fell through and landed face first on the ground.

That didn’t matter.

You stood up and let out a crazy laugh.

You had done it!

You had gone out!

Finally! Finally! Finally!

The weather was beautiful.

The energy that filled you were almost foreign. You felt lighter and suddenly air filled your chest quite a lot easier than before.

You were out! You had finally gone out!

It didn’t take long before you started to wander around. The trees had grown taller and the meadow you used to play with your kids in was overgrown with flowers. Your body lead the way, you didn’t even need to think about where you were going.

The safety barrier that was put around your race’s territory was definitely helpful and the best for most of you. However, going back out and feeling the same amount of freedom you had taken for granted was a new amazing feeling.

The nature almost seemed more magical.

You decided to not wander too far away this first time, so you stopped in the familiar meadow and sat down to collect some flowers. You were going to give them to Sky. Both as a thank you for pushing you to go out, but also as something he and Coral could decorate their house with.

However, in the newfound bliss and happiness, you forgot to watch your surroundings. One moment you were smiling from ear to ear and the next, you crashed down, face first into the ground with an arrow stuck in your shoulder.

It only took you half a second to check, but your wings were luckily unharmed, for now.

“Think you could hide from us forever?”

It wasn’t surprising that the bounty hunters went against the High Lord and kept on looking for you and your family, but it still terrified you.

The small freedom you felt only lasted a couple of minutes and then you were back to being pretty much terrified.

A harsh arm pushed the arrow even deeper into your arm. It took all the power in you not to scream. You gritted your teeth so hard your jaw felt like it was breaking.

“You know how much people would pay for your pretty wings, little fly?” a voice whispered into your ear. The arrow had definitely been poisoned by something, and you felt yourself grow too weak to react. You only kept your wings as tight against your back as possible. “I hear losing your wings would be quite a painful death, so I’ll let the poison work a little longer before I start the carving.”

Your heart sunk deep into your stomach. It was the worst way to go. The wings carried healing and life. When someone lost their wings, they would die. Losing even just a piece of a wing enough to cause significant slower healing. The wings did however also heal others. That’s why you had gone through years of breeding and years of hiding from bounty hunters. The wings could heal all physical wounds. Even people seconds away from death had been able to continue living their lives without harm.

When the wings were detached from the body, the soul would slowly move through all parts of the body before it eventually escaped.

Tears started leaving your eyes, but you were otherwise too weak to even think about moving. The wound at your shoulder almost didn’t even hurt anymore and you could almost only hear your heartbeat. You did your best to stay upright, but you felt yourself lean deeper and deeper into the arms of the bounty hunter.

“I think I’ll start now,” he said and you could distantly hear the sound of him drawing his blade. You waited for the pain, but it didn’t come. The poison had luckily dampened also the feeling of the soul’s last trip. Or that is what you thought.

The rough arms of the bounty hunter was suddenly exchanged by soft touch.

“I got you,” a new distant voice spoke. Even as distant as you felt, you still heard the softness in his voice. However, the calming of the softness didn’t last very long. “I’m so sorry.”

The pain of the arrow being ripped out of your shoulder made you scream a weak scream. However, it only took seconds for the effect of the poison to decrease.

A textured hand carefully moved your jaw open, and while you tried to protest, a cold liquid was poured down your throat. You were certain this was what was going to kill you, but you were soon proven differently.

The fog that had taken over your mind lifted within seconds. Suddenly, you had feelings all over your body again.

You didn’t hesitate as you jumped to your weak feet and did your best to get away from you saver. However, as you turned around you noticed you had met the male before.

It was the same male with bat like wings and shadows that had found Sarah all those years ago. The Illyrian shadowsinger as your father had explained. He was supposed to be the most scary male in all of Prythian, but from what you could see, he looked only kind.

“Thank you,” you said with a small bow before you started to fly away. Even though your legs and arms were weak, your wings luckily worked.

“Wait!”

You don’t know what made you stop, but suddenly you stood on your feet and had turned to face the male once more.

“I’ll be here this time tomorrow,” he started. “If you wanted to explore without being scared of ambush.”

You ended up meeting him the day after.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Every day for a week.

And then every second day for a month.

And then, as often as possible for the rest of your lives.

It was dark when the meeting ended.

You had flown all the way to and through the boarder to get to Azriel. He was probably stressed because you weren’t at home on time, but he knew about the long meetings and how they never finished on time.

Smoke danced up from the chimney as you went through the front door. The heat felt incredible after such a long and cold night.

Even though the fresh smell of him told you that he was there, the shadows confirmed it. The pulled off your coat, let down your hair and left small kissed all over your skin.

“There you are,” Azriel’s soft voice sounded from the kitchen.

You walked in and immediately wrapped your arms around his waist. He turned around and hugged you back. He took his time smelling you and feeling you. You did the same with him. Then, he left the softest kiss on your forehead.

“I made dinner,” he said and started to plate up the food.

You loved it when he cooked. He had told you many times that he never cooked for anyone, but he was too good at it for that to be true. He was an expert.

The two of you sat beside each other as you ate. It had been three weeks apart this time. A week longer than you were used to, so you spent a lot of time almost sitting upon each other. That’s how you ended up in his lap as you spoke.

“Dad called you my husband today,” you started the wanted conversation carefully. “He said “Y/n’s husband is an outsider and he is definitely safe.””

Azriel’s eyes grew a little bit bigger, and his shadows tightened their grip around you slightly. You were theirs, they were trying to say.  

“How did he react when you corrected him?” he asked.

“I didn’t,” you answered as you looked directly at him.

His hand and shadows that were danced over the back of your hand and in your hair stopped immediately. Azriel moved his head so that he also looked directly at you. Hopeful. His eyes looked extremely hopeful.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked hesitantly.

“If you don’t mind me saying what you think I am saying, then I am saying what you think I am saying.”

“Then, let’s get married tonight,” he answered, picked you up and immediately shadowwalked. It was like he was scared you would change your mind…again.

Rhys was mildly confused when he escaped y/n’s mind. He knew his brother was married. It wasn’t something he spoke a lot about, but it had slipped out after a night at Rita’s when basically all of their family tried to set Azriel up with a female. They were all surprised, but Rhys had never expected to meet his brother’s wife in such a situation.

He knew he needed to act fast.

“Where does Azriel’s mother live?” He asked her. The first priority: was the female telling the truth?

“Rosehall,” she answered confidently and without hesitation.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel by her answer. She was definitely his sister in law, and that meant his brother was still safe. But at the same time, he now had to do all in his power for this female to remain safe. He owed that to his brother.

A task easier said than done.

“She has a solid mental-shield, but she is telling the truth,” he said out loud to the entire throne-room.

“How many of you are there?” Amarantha asked Y/n next. Now that he was inside her mind, Rhys felt all the terror Y/n was feeling. It hit him like a brick wall. How the female looked calm on the outside, he didn’t know. Then, stress hit him. She would have to answer correctly so that the least amount of her people would die.

He reached out to all of the minds he could. He worked quickly, but precise as he tried to find out how many, if any, had been killed.

To his horror, a lot of casualties had happened.

“I need you to trust me. Tell her you are around 250,” he communicated as calmly as he could.

“We are around 250 people. I don’t know the exact number,” she answered. Her voice got a little shaky at the end.

“Remember to breathe as evenly as possible,” Rhys told her, and then he spoke aloud. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Does that mean 250 of my family is dead?”

“Don’t worry about that now, you have to stay focused.”

“Okay” she answered hesitantly, and Rhys hated it. He knew she understood, and it made him nauseous. 250 lives lost.

 “Well, my dear, it seems like it’s only you left.”

Tears fell from her eyes, but she didn’t give any other visible reaction to the news. Rhys was the only one to hear and feel the total devastation that took place in her mind.

“Good job,” he told her. “Just keep it up a little longer.”

“Throw her in the dungeons. I don’t care to deal with her now.”

It wasn’t often Rhys spoke against Amarantha’s orders, but this was too important.

“Act terrified when I propose my idea,” he told Y/n. Then he turned to face Amarantha. “If I may, my Lady. If they could send her to my room, I could find out more about her people and why she has such a good mental-shield.”

Y/n looked up at them with wide eyes. Eyes that showed so much emotion, even Rhys got surprised by it.

Amarantha smiled a smug smile at that.

“What a good idea,” she answered.

Two warriors then grabbed y/n’s arms and led her out and towards his chamber.

“You’ll be safe,” he told her, but his voice gave her no relief.

It had been twenty years since he had seen his family. 20 years since he locked Azriel into Velaris. 20 years of total struggle to find purpose. But now he had purpose.

He was going to protect his sister in law with his life.

It had been two days since y/n ended up Under the Mountain. Two days where Rhysand had been kept away from his room. The second he was able to, he almost ran to his room.

He opened the door and found the fire heating up the usually cold room.

Y/n sat curled in front of the fireplace. She moved her head to look at him as he walked in, but she stayed put. He wings still glowed, but it was almost dull. She looked exhausted and of the wounds that she carried two days ago, some of them still looked unhealed.

“Thank you,” she told him.

Rhys didn’t know how to answer her. He did help her survive that first meeting, but it wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be thanked before he knew she was safe.

He looked around other parts of the room and noticed four almost untouched plates of food. They were all some kind of meat stew.

“You should eat,” he told her. He realized they must have locked her into this room and that she wasn’t able to get her food by herself. She was still a prisoner.

“I know,” she answered with a sigh. It was almost shaky. Almost as if she was crying.

It wasn’t safe to speak aloud, so he reached into her mind. He was again met with a wall of tulips, but this time it was easier to get through. He didn’t know if she let him in voluntarily or if she was just too exhausted to keep up her shields.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked her softly, but she still flinched a little from the surprise of having him in her head.

“It’s stupid,” was her only answer and Rhys realized he had to gain her trust.

Other than the fact that she was Azriel’s wife, he knew basically nothing about the female in front of him.

He carefully sat down beside her, feeling the warmth from the fireplace. Usually starting such conversations would be easy for him, but he felt so lost and starting a comforting and hopeful conversation wasn’t something he managed to do.

“I miss him,” he told her. Even as they were younger and separated in the years after they became warriors, he had seen his brothers at least once a year. Now, it had been twenty and he felt like the changes of ever seeing them again became smaller and smaller.

“Me too.”

They sat quietly in front of the fireplace for hours. All the conversations they needed to have could wait.

I don't really know where I am going with this series. I have the start, one thing in the middle and then an end, so we'll see what happens...

Taglist:

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Imagines

shinunoga | nrk.

pairings: nishimura riki x reader

synopsis: after nishimura riki succeeded on keeping you, his possessiveness and obsession just grew along with your fear with your boyfriend.

word count: 5.7k

warnings: yandere themes, mention of attempt suicide, enhypen being obsessed, obsessive love, dark love and abuse of power & money. (let me know if i missed some)

note: part two of ni-ki's yandere fic. this is aligned with jungwon's insolitus, heeseung's limerence, jay's lacuna, sunghoon's missing and sunoo's again fic. jake's version is still currently rotting in my drafts so please be patient.

part one - read here.

eeunoia 2025 © all rights reserved.

“Where are you going?” your head snaps at Ni-ki’s direction when he talked. His eyes darted at you, waiting for your answer and one of his hand holding you on your wrist with firmness.

“To the admin office. I have to get some files there.”

He nods and stood up from where he’s sitting. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to why he’s now standing up from his chair and standing beside you.

“Why?” he asks, like he seems confused too, hand reaching for your elbow.

“Where are you going?” your question made his brows narrow.

“You said we’ll go to the admin office?”

“I said I will go. Why are you coming with me?” his hand stops caressing your elbow and the crease to his forehead deepens.

“Why not?” his sarcasm oozes through his tone. His eyes grew colder as his stares lingers to you longer.

“Ni-ki,” you let out a strained sigh and tries hard to soften your tone to avoid giving him a wrong idea.

“I will be just quick, you can stay here.”

He raised one of his eyebrow, “Then let’s go together. If it will be just for a short time.”

“But your friends are here...” you glanced at them who seems totally unbothered that Ni-ki stoods up to leave with you. They continued talking about some stuff, most of them you cannot relate.

“So? They don’t mind...” he whispers, clearly losing his patience.

“Riki,” he rolled his eyes.

“It’s either you let me go with you or you stay here.”

You stared right to his eyes. He didn’t budge as well and just silently watch you stare at him. Ni-ki won’t back down no matter how long you look at him that way.

“Okay...” in the end, you’re the one to surrender. Eitherway, it won’t benefit you if you won over this argument. He will be in a foul mood and that only means he will give you a hard time the whole day.

He smiles and leans down to give you a peck on your lips. He slide his large, warm hand down from your elbow to intertwin your hands together.

“We’ll just go to the admin office, hyungs.” his friends whips their heads at your direction.

“What you’re going to do in the admin office?” Jungwon asks curiously.

Ni-ki shrugs his shoulder as he guides you to start walking, pressing his chest on your back. “Y/n needs to go there for some files.” he says.

“Then why are you coming with her?” Jake.

“Can’t I accompany my girlfriend?” Ni-ki’s sarcastic words made some of his friends grin widely. Jay shakes his head at the younger’s answer.

“You’re so clingy.” Sunghoon commented and continued on what he was doing before being interrupted by Ni-ki.

He scoffed, “Yeah, whatever.” and he leads you to the building where the admin office is.

“You know I can do this alone, right?” your hands swayed together while walking side by side. The height difference surely is very eye pleasing as Ni-ki gazes down at you.

“I don’t want you to do it alone.” and teared his eyes off of you to look in front. Student’s around follows him with amused eyes, never getting over at how attractive and tall Nishimura Riki is.

Only, they know their limits and place as he’s clearly taken by the girl he’s walking with. You.

Ever since that day he attempted to jump off from the building and threaten you to get back with him, you started noticing redflags that somehow overlooked by your so much love for him.

You have no idea if God just heard your prayer or this is Karma hunting you down. Before, you were complaining on how nonchalant he is towards you. That there’s no enough affection from him, but now, you just want to take it back.

Ni-ki became very clingy. At some point, its a good thing but sometimes its too much that it suffocates you. He wants to be involve at everything you’re doing, wants to be where you are all the time. And if you refuse? He will start to think of unbelievable things, making himself believe that you are cheating over him when all you want is to have some time for yourself.

“Y/n! Are you here for the files?” the school staff smiled widely once she saw you approaching. Her eyes darted at Ni-ki whose silently stalks behind, towering you.

Her smile faltered and sent a small wave to your boyfriend which he just responded with a short nod. He slid his hands inside his pocket and just stood there, waiting and watching you.

“U-Uh, yes.” you tried to give her a big smile to ease the sudden awkward atmosphere.

“O-Okay! Wait up.” and she moves to the back of the office to gather the files you came here for.

While she was doing that, your eyes caught a boy not wearing a uniform approaching the other window next to you. One of the staff attended to him right away, assisting him to whatever he needs.

“I’m new and my class schedules says this is my section. I need my workbooks for these subjects please.” he says in a very polite way.

He looks decent. Like a student who will do average in school, cut class from time to time and someone who knows how to properly carry himself.

It seems like he felt someone’s staring so his head whips at your direction and you got slightly surprise meeting his beautiful eyes. He smiled instantly and waves at you. It caught you off-guard and took a while for a response, only to be interrupted by your boyfriend.

He steps in between you guys then covers the slightest view of that guy.

“What are you waving at, newbie?” his rude and dark tone alarmed you.

Your hand stretches to grab him by his arm, stopping him from doing anything. He didn’t even glanced at you and just kept his intimidating gaze right at the new guy.

He smiled awkwardly at the sudden confrontation from Ni-ki. He raised both of his hand, like an act of surrender.

“Woah, dude. I was just being friendly.” he defended, but your boyfriend remains in a protective stance. He gave this intimidating aura over to that new guy and honestly, you feel bad. There’s no need for this.

“Who said you can be friendly around my girl?”

“Ni-ki, that’s enough. He was just being nice.” you stopped him from saying anything else then grabbed him by his arm.

The tall boy didn’t listen and just kept his stares at the other guy. He was about to take advance when you stepped in front him and placed both hands on his chest.

“Riki,” you called using the most gentle voice you can come up with.

His eyes drop at you and they look pissed, brows draws near each other, jaw clenching and he’s clicking his tongue to his cheeks.

“Please? Let’s just go.” your tone sounded desperate.

He kept his stares while not saying any word, but interrupted when the lady by the window calls your name. You glanced at her and she looked so confuse as to what’s happening at the moment. A small smile is what you gave her before holding onto Ni-ki’s arm again to tug him closer the window.

Not giving him any chances of going to that newbie.

“Is this it? Thank you so much!” you gently accepted the file from her and dragged your boyfriend out from that place. He’s even giving that guy a dirty look when you managed to pull him away.

Once far enough, you stopped then steps in front of him. Ni-ki stares down at you. His cold, piercing eyes bore into you. He slids his hands inside his pockets then slightly cocks one of his eye brows.

“Seriously? Do you really have to do that?” you sound frustrated and in distress.

He’s really not that friendly, you know that. But he doesn’t have to be rude. Specially if the other person is not even doing anything bad.

Ni-ki stares for a while before he rolls his eyes. “He’s flirting on you.”

You gasp, “He waved!” you hissed, trying to make a point to your boyfriend.

He seemed unbothered about it. Clearly, he doesn’t care if he just waved or looked. Ni-ki’s upset that another guy is giving you attention. Its actually bothering you. Alarming that he’s reacting this way for a mere interaction.

“Why are we even arguing about that guy?” he frowns and tilts his head to the side. The dead look on his eyes is even scarier when he’s pissed off.

You gulped and balled your fists while staring right to his eyes. He sighs then gently reaches for your arm to start pulling you towards somewhere.

“I don’t want to hear anything about him.” he firmly stated then dragged you at the direction of your class. You only have a few minutes until the next period starts so you gave no complain.

Your friends, more like his friends, are already inside the class when you arrived. Some of their heads whips once the two of you walks in. The evident frown on Ni-ki’s face didn’t slipped off from his friends. They already assumed something happened.

You settled down on your sit which is beside Ni-ki and behind Sunoo, one of his friends.

“What’s wrong with him?” he curiously asked and even pointed Ni-ki using his chin.

You sighed, “We saw a new guy at the admin office.”

Sunoo furrowed his brows at what he heard, finding it a bit odd. A small feeling ignites inside of you at the possible alliance.

“And?” he asks.

You glanced at Ni-ki and he’s now busy with his phone. His other free hand possessively lays at the backrest of your arm chair.

“He just got mad at him for waving at me. The guy is just being friendly.”

Sunoo stares at you for a while. You’re expecting him to agree with you and to at least lightly scold Ni-ki for reacting this way, but he just sighed.

“I mean if he sensed that the guy’s being unreasonable, then I don’t see anything wrong about it.” Sunoo stated and even shrugged his shoulders off.

“But—”

“Did I say or did not say not to talk about that guy again?” Ni-ki interrupts and even glanced at your direction.

Sunoo smirks while watching you pout your lips at your boyfriend. He knew how despite being scared with Ni-ki, you don’t back down easily. That’s what he likes about you. You make Ni-ki feel more challenged and that’s drives the younger one go insane.

“I was just explaining what happened.” you reasoned out.

He rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Enough of him.” and he slid his phone inside his pocket before grabbing your hand to hold it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with us?” that was the third time Ni-ki asks you while putting his things at the trunk of his car.

You gave him a small smile and caress his arm, “Yes. I’ll just try to finish some schoolworks while waiting for you.”

He glances at you before shutting the trunk close. He leans over it and gently tugs you towards him. His hand settles at your waist, making butterflies going crazy inside the stomach.

“All right. I’ll see you after practice.”

You almost cheered inwardly at him agreeing about it, but you made sure he isn’t aware.

“At the rooftop.” you remind him the only place where he lets you stay without him. Students rarely go there and so he’s cool with you hanging out at that place while he practice for basketball with his team.

He nods with a small smirk over his lips then leans in to place one swift kiss on yours. It made you close your eyes, tasting him.

You love your boyfriend, there's no doubt to that. Its just his odd behaviors and possessive demeanor that bothers you most of the time. The redflags are just hard to ignore already and ever since that day he threatened to harm himself if you don’t get back with him, you just can’t help but to feel anxious on deciding for the relationship.

After making sure he left for practice, you did head over to the rooftop.

“Oh...” you’re surprised to see somebody else there.

Leaning over the railings is a familiar person. It was the same guy from days ago. The new guy that Ni-ki rudely sent off. Based on how he reacted, he’s surprised as well to see you here.

“I'm so sorry, is this your place? I’m just chilling for a while.” he’s fast to explain why he was there which is not necessary.

You waved both of your hands with a shy smile, “No, its totally fine. I’ll just occupy this space.” you pointed at the small table by the corner. Far from him.

He watches you carefully and silently.

“Did I got you in trouble that day? I’m sorry.” he says in a small friendly voice.

You looked at him with surprised eyes.

“No, oh my gosh.” and even shyly smiled. “I should be the one asking for apologies for his behavior.”

He tilts his head to the side and can’t help but to notice how adorable you are. He smiles and nods his head, dismissing that matter in a cool way.

You gulped and just try to focus on your assignment instead. A few seconds later, the silence was a little suffocating for him. He’s not really used to it and so he glanced back at you.

“Hey, what’s up with your boyfriend? Does he always react that way? He’s so intense.” he says.

You looked at his direction then scoffed. “Intense? You already think of him that way, what more if I told you he threatened to jump off the rooftop when I broke up with him once?” you spat casually that made him exaggeratingly gasping.

“He did what?!”

You blinked a couple of times because of his reaction. It was a little funny for you, but still kept your composure.

Eventually, you just found yourself being comfortable around him. Maybe the fact that he also thinks that these things are odd makes you feel that you finally managed to find an alliance. Ni-ki’s friends doesn’t seem to find it odd like you so you can’t really talk about it with them.

“I think you should really talk to him about it.” he suggested like as if that’s the easiest way of solving the problem.

“Yes, like as if that would work. I already tried it a million times.” then you leaned at the railings, defeated. At least you talked it out with someone else and for once they actually agreed with you.

“Well...” he inhaled heavily while leaning over the railings, mirroring you. His eyes scanned the field beneath and the sun slowly setting.

“We can’t really judge people by how they show their love. Maybe that’s his way of making it up to you.” he says, that made you glance at his direction with a furrowed brows.

When he noticed how you look at him, he was quick to raise both hands in the air. “Not that I’m saying that everything he’s doing is alright, okay? I mean you did mentioned you wished he showed affection more.”

You rolled your eyes, “But not in this extreme level.”

“Do you still love him?”

You’ve grown silent. It’s been a while ever since that question occured inside your head. The whole situation was stressing you out that you haven’t had a time to ask yourself that same question.

It took time to sort out your feelings before you heaved a big sigh. You pursed your lips.

“Yes.” you answered sincerely. “But I fear him even more.”

“That’s sad.” he commented.

You nodded, because that’s the exact thing you felt with your relationship with Ni-ki right now. You know the feeling where you love the person, but you hate the things he’s doing right now. You hate the way he acts, not the Ni-ki himself. Funny, because you feel the same way before but just in a different reason.

Before you hated how he’s so nonchalant around you. Now, you hated how he’s so over protective. Its making you think that you’re also at fault in here.

“Anyway, I should probably leave before I put you in trouble once again.” he smiled and extended his hand in a friendly manner.

“I’m Taesan by the way.” he smiles that made you smile as well.

Its such a good feeling to know someone outside Ni-ki’s circle of friends. Like a breath of fresh air.

“Y/n... my name is y/n.” and you both shook hands before he left you there.

After he left, you are alone with your own thoughts once again. His words replayed inside your head. He’s right that you should talk to him about it. Communication is key in relationships anyway. You just have to find the right timing for it.

You decided to do the thing you planned on doing in the first place and that is to catch up on some schoolworks. Eventually, you get busy with it and didn’t even noticed that time passed by.

The door opening is what snapped you back to reality. Your head raised to check who it was and you saw your freshly showered boyfriend walking inside. The first thing he did is to shortly scan the whole place then eyes settled at your direction.

“Hi, how’s your practice?” you tried acting naturally. A part of you are a bit worried that he have an idea that you’ve met Taesan here a while ago.

All of that disappears when he smirks at you while greeting you with a warm embrace. He kissed your cheeks and hugs you tightly.

“Awful. Jungwon hyung’s a little pissed of something so he’s slightly making us suffer.” he chuckles in a low tone.

“Pissed about what?” you asked curiously.

He shrugs his shoulder before standing straightly again, one of his hand remains at the low of your back.

“About some boy that bothers his girlfriend.” he said meaningfully while eyeing you straight on the eyes.

You don’t know if he’s referring to your previous encounter with Taesan or he really have an idea that he was here. You gulped and tried shoving that thought off.

“I didn’t know he’s the jealous type.” you chuckled, a little nervous. “I mean I never seen any guys lurking around (name).”

“Well I will be jealous too if someone’s tries to bother my girl. Natural reaction from a boyfriend don’t you think?” he cocked a brows at you before carding his damp hair using his fingers.

“Nobody’s gonna bother me, Riki.” you rolled your eyes and playfully push him off to start fixing your things.

Once your back is facing him, you heaved a sigh and tries to calm yourself. Its hilarious how you’re acting like as if your boyfriend’s about to caught you cheating when in fact that’s not the case.

“They shouldn’t or they’ll suffer serious consequences.” he says, more like threatened.

You ignored his last statement and just diverted the topic about dinner. He casually joined you in fixing your things and thankfully got distracted about the menu you two will be eating tonight since you did planned on having dinner together.

When you made it down the building and over the parking lot, you noticed his group of friends gathered while Jungwon talks to someone. It was Leehan. He’s part of the student council and you almost choked seeing the man beside him.

You felt Ni-ki’s eyes darted at you for a second when he noticed Taesan from the distance while you two walk towards the group.

“Look whose here...” he whispered and you saw his jaw clenches then he renewed his hold to your hand, intertwining your fingers this time.

“Riki...” you warned him.

He raised his brows. “I’m not going to do anything as long as he don’t do anything.” he assures you and you felt relieved.

The group noticed your presence when you’re near enough. (name) turned and lets go from Jungwon’s hold to greet you. Jungwon only lets go of her when he realized it was you that his girl’s about to hug.

“We’re going to eat at Jake hyung’s house! You guys coming?” Sunoo invites you with a bright smile.

Your eyes met Taesan’s for a couple of seconds and you’re quick to glance away. Afraid that Ni-ki would caught you looking and get a wrong impression from it.

Ni-ki stood behind you, towering and setting clear message that you are his. His eyes are darted at Taesan’s direction.

“Ni-ki, this is Taesan. He’s Leehan’s friend. He just transferred.” Jungwon said.

Taesan nodded politely while Ni-ki kept his cold stance. “Yeah, y/n and I met him a while ago.” he said meaningfully with a smirk.

Leehand glanced at Taesan, a bit clueless. His friend just smiles and nodded.

“Yeah, we did.” and glanced at your direction.

Ni-ki threw his arms over your shoulder.

“This is my girlfriend, by the way.” he introduced you like as if he didn’t made a point of it on the first meeting.

Taesan nods, “You did mentioned a while ago.”

Ni-ki’s friends were not dumb enough not to realized that he probably the one he was pissed about when he walks to practice. Jungwon silently eyed his friend and the new guy. The tension was on and he must admit that he has a feeling that if Taesan doesn’t keep a distance, there will be a war.

Thankfully, he managed to tame down the flames and successfully part ways from the two guys peacefully.

Ni-ki decided to ditch Jake’s dinner as he said he needed private time with you. Jake’s a bit sulky, but didn’t push through it after he waves at the two of you.

Your boyfriend walked you towards their family car where his driver awaits. He opened the door for you after you greeted his driver.

“I hate his guts.” Ni-ki mumbles the moment you two are alone.

He didn’t say a name, but you perfectly knew who he was talking about. You let out a strained sigh.

“Drop it, Riki. He’s not worth it.” you dismissed, because it was true. Taesan’s not doing anything wrong and you don’t really want to argue with him.

“Surely.” he said then lift your hand to drop a kiss on top of it while staring right into your eyes.

“You’re going to behave and stay out of trouble, yeah?” he asks with strict eyes.

You pouted and tilt your head to fight back at his stares. He’s very intimidating. His aura and his eyes makes you feel conscious of yourself. They stare through your soul sending direct shivers through your spine. Very intimdating and yet you can’t deny that he looked so good. His slightly black long hair, thick brows, eyes black and dark, nose pointed, and lips so plump.

Your eyes settled at his lips before you leaned in to give him a gentle smooch. After a couple of seconds you pulled away and stared at his eyes. This time, they looked softer.

“Only if you stay out of trouble.” and you smiled that made him smirk.

“Here, baby.” Ni-ki mumbled softly before putting your things down on the vacant chair beside you.

“Thank you. I’ll see you later?” you pulled a small smile at him and his eyes settles at yours. They look a bit intense, like as if its trying to search something in you. It made you slightly shivering.

“W-What’s wrong?” you asked, sounding a bit worried.

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders off. He clicked his tongue after tilting his head over to the side.

“Nothing. I was just thinking that you’ve been skipping to watch our practice these days.” he commented that made your heart thumped.

You chuckled, it was fake and silently you wished Ni-ki didn’t sensed it at all.

“Its not that I don’t want to watch, Riki. There’s really just a lot of activities the past weeks.” your hand reached for his arms to caress it gently.

“You understand, right?” you added. Cold sweat spreads across your back while waiting for his response.

His eyes darted at it for a bit before he nodded his head, “Yeah.”

“Thank you. You don’t have to worry, I promise to watch your every game.” and his eyes moved back to stare right at you. They were intimidating as always, but you can see the familiar warm look on them that he only shows to you.

“All right. I’ll leave you be for a bit. I’ll pick you up here later, okay?” he says and reaches for your hand to make you stand up.

You obliged and watch how he leans down to your eye level. He looked down at your lips once before he lifted his gaze back at your eyes. Your heart did the familiar reaction for him.

He started walking towards the door to leave you alone here at the rooftop, your usual spot. The only place he’s comfortable enough to leave you alone. Your shoulder slumped lower once he’s out of your sight.

He’s calm these past few days. No extreme or intolerable behavior. But maybe because you’re also trying your best not to piss him off just to keep him off of your ass all the time.

The wind blew over your, taking your thoughts away. The situation with Ni-ki is good lately, stable. But it doesn’t mean you aren’t bothered anymore about it.

Your eyes flew over to the door when it opened and Taesan’s familiar face made you sigh in relief. You rolled your eyes at him that made him chuckle.

“Startled?” he taunt that made you scoff.

“Whatever.”

He walked closer and sat at the other side of the table. The past weeks that you’ve skipped Ni-ki’s practices were the times you and Taesan spent your free time here. It’s not that you’re cheating over your boyfriend. You made a friend. The first one outside his circle and honestly, it feels good to have someone to talk to that won’t side with Ni-ki.

“Saw your boyfriend at the back building a while ago.” Taesan started and you glanced at him with curious eyes.

“Really? What’s he doing there?”

He shrugged his shoulder, “Have no idea. He’s with his other three friends. Sunghoon, Jake and Jay.”

That made your brows furrowed hardly. The seven of them are pretty close, tight friendship. A bond built throughout the years they’ve been together so its not a surprise to hear about that. What bothers you is that he is with Jay. He’s a troublemaker. You won’t hold yourself back and also mention the weird aura you always feel from the other two boys.

They’re nice, you’ll give them that. Sunghoon’s pretty quiet all the time and even though he acts friendly around you sometimes, it doesn’t change the fact that you just can’t guess what’s inside his mind.

Jay is loud and proud about him being a troublemaker. That one just doesn’t care about what other people would think about him. Multiple times that something horrible happened and he was at the scene. If it weren’t for his parents’ money, you’re pretty sure he had a lot of records already.

Jake is the most decent one out of the three. He’s always smiling and very nice around you. He’s the type who insist a conversation just to ease the atmosphere. Him and Ni-ki are pretty close since they have a lot of things they like both. Some other call them the Sun and moon.

But sometimes, a very few times you feel this eerie feeling about him. Like he’s hiding something dark behind those pretty smiles of him.

“Y/n... earth to y/n, hello?”

You snapped back to reality after hearing Taesan calling out your name. “What? Are you saying something?”

He chuckled and shake his head lightly, “What’s inside that head of yours? You looked so worried.”

“Nothing. Just wondering what Ni-ki and his friends were doing at the back building.”

“Don’t think too much about it. A lot of students hangs out at that part of the school.” he assured you.

“Yeah, and most of the times they’re doing something bad.”

He pursed his lips. “Your boyfriend is shameless when it comes on acting around on public. He doesn’t need to be at the back building to do something bad, you know?”

You glared at him and he only responded with a laugh.

“They actually looked serious about what they’re talking about.”

Your eyes settles over at Taesan and for some reasons your stomach churns. Even though you two are not doing anything wrong, you can’t help but to feel worried about him.

“Did you make sure nobody saw you coming up here?”

His brows furrowed, smile fading because of your question.

“Everybody is mostly at their classes and the stairs are at the secluded part of the building. Don’t worry.”

You nodded, but that didn’t made you feel at ease. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Taesan stared at you for a while before sighing. “Stop overthinking it, y/n. I’m glad to find a friend in the new university.”

That made you smile because you actually feel the same. You decided to shove off that thought away and just chat with Taesan about random things. You two talked about your family and friends. You opened up about your relationship with Ni-ki and Taesan’s actually a very good listener. He tries to view both of the perspective and doesn’t judge easily.

“Like I said, nothing can’t be fixed by a good communication. You just have to gather all your courage to talk it out with your boyfriend.”

“Maybe you’re right. I should really talk with Riki about it.”

He nods proudly, “That’s the spirit!”

After a while, he decided to leave since his last class was about to start and Ni-ki will come to pick you up too in a bit.

“Taesan!” you called him when he’s almost by the door. He turn over his back with a confused look.

“Your tie!” you reminded him his tie with his nameplate pinned over it.

He smiled and jogged his way back to your position to retrieve it. “Thanks! Almost forgot it.”

He waved and then left. You stood up and rest over the railing to look over the wide field beneath you. The wind is refreshing and it helps to calm you down. The sky is also pretty, it made you think that its such a lovely day.

Almost half an hour passed and your brows furrowed when you realized that Ni-ki’s late already. It was odd because you’re pretty sure he should be here twenty minutes ago. He’s never been this late. If ever the coach hold them up for more practice, he made sure you’re aware of it.

Your confusion vanished when he finally arrived the rooftop with a small smile over his face. It made you relieved to see that he seems to be in a good mood.

“You’re late. I was about to go and see you there myself.” you greeted him with a warm hug that he returns affectionately. He placed a kiss on your cheeks before pulling away to look at your face.

Both of his big hands rests at your hips and your arms encircled his nape.

“What happened?” you asked when he didn’t explained why he was late.

Riki stared into your eyes, into your soul. The smile long gone from his lips and he remained that way for a while. Quiet and just staring. It made you feel uneasy.

“R-Riki?” you called him out, but still he remained unresponsive.

“Is there a p-problem?”

The corner of his lips lifted and hands buried over your hips, making you unable to move away from him.

“You tell me, y/n...” his low, cold voice alarmed you right away.

“What part on ‘Stay away from that boy’ is hard to understand?” he asked that made your heart fell.

He knew.

“R-Riki..” you started to panic and attempting to move away from him out of fear, but he got you pinned on your position.

“I told you...” his eyes grew darker. “I already told you I don’t like him around my girl and what did you do?” he tilt his head.

“Meeting him here secretly?” his tone sounded too accusing that you are too sure that he got the wrong impression already.

“Its not what you think it is. Please, can you let me go so we can talk—”

“Let you go so you can run away from me? So you can go to him? What y/n, tell me.”

The way he say those words hurts and scare you. Ni-ki isn’t the type to hurt you physically, but you’re still afraid of him. You’re scared of the things he’s capable of doing.

“No, please just—”

He grabbed your wrist when you try to move away from you. He was too fast about it and even how hard you try to free yourself, it was no use.

“You two really have guts to do that behind my back.”

“We aren’t doing anything bad. I swear!”

He scoffs, his eyes completely lifeless.

“You can’t hurt me, Riki. I know you can’t. You’re not like that.” you tried to calm him down.

He smirked, “You’re right. I can never do that to you. I love you too much.”

His words made you stop moving and shattered your heart. He sounded so hurt and betrayed by you and now you start feeling guilty about it even if you two aren’t doing anything bad.

“I can never put myself to hurt you.”

Your lips trembled and was about to start apologising when he lets out a heavy sigh before smirking a bit. His eyes so cold that sent direct shivers to your spine, and your feet freezed like your soul just left your body.

“But guess who I can?” and he slid his hand inside his pocket. Your eyes dropped to watch it and your world started to feel slow.

He pulled something out of it and threw it over the ground. Your eyes started to get teary when you realized what it was.

“W-What did you do...” you whispered, chest hurting so much.

Tears fell from your eyes as you stare at that thing. It was Taesan’s tie and its full of blood.

main master-list - here

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[livinghalfway]

"For the last time Grayson this is not a 'playdate' as you call it. This is me investigating an obvious threat!" It seems no matter how much Damian insists that the Fenton wasn't his friend, no one in the family was going to believe him.

"Whatever you say Dami!" Grayson smiled brightly, clearly not believing a word he just said, "Would you like Allred to prepare some snacks for you and Danny for in between your fencing matches?"

"...Yes, that would be apprenticed. In the mean time I must prepare the battle ground for Fenton and I's fight." Damian stood quickly making his way hastily out of the room.

"I'll bring Danny to the gym when he gets here!" Grayson calls out after him.

No matter what the others say this is not a friendly visit. He is going to prove to them all that Fenton is a threat once and for all. The security cameras have been set up directly were Damian plans to face off against his foe.

With that everyone will finally see that Fenton has been trained to handle something far deadly than a fencing foil. His trap has been set; now he just needs the mouse to show his face.

-

Damian is standing in the middle of the mat when Fenton finally enters the room. A duffle bag, with his fencing gear most likely in it, is thrown over his shoulder. "Hey Damian! You ready to practice?"

"Actually Fenton, I was thinking of something a bit more...exciting." Damian doesn't hesitate after that to throw one of the katanas that he had been hiding behind his back towards Danny, and charging him immediately after the blade lands in his hands.

Fenton is seemingly not startled by this new development, and is starts to charge forward as well, his duffle bag now forgotten on the ground.

The two trade blow after blow, and for a moment Damian would say that he is having fun. That quickly ends though when Danny somehow manages to knock Damian's blade out of his hands, making it land far across the room. With no way to get his weapon back without Danny landing a winning blow Damian takes on a fighting stance. This is hardly the first time he's fought without his weapon.

What he doesn't expect though is for Fenton, upon seeing Damian with his fists up, discards his own weapon, and takes on a fighting stance similar to Damian's. Just as quickly as before the two are exchanging punches and kicks to one another. The worst part of all of this though is that Damian can tell that Fenton is going easy on him!

How is this possible? Who tried him? Is he here to cause trouble in Gotham? These are all questions Damian has as he lands hard on his back. He lost, again.

Damian demands a rematch as he smacks Danny's hand away from himself, refusing his offer to help him stand back up.

By the end of their battle Damian is left utterly exhausted and humiliated. Halfway through Fenton had started to try and teach him how to improve. He hated that the things he said were helpful.

Damian would beat Fenton next Saturday as that was when they planned their next battle, and no Grayson it was not another playdate!

Mini Prompt: Fight Me

Damian didn’t have high hopes when he saw that the new kid, Danny Fenton, at school would be joining fencing club.

Which is why it angered him so much when he lost three times in row to Danny. Worst of all he did it with a smile, and words of encouragement after each match.

At the same time though this was the most excitable moment he’s had while in this club. No one else has ever been near his skill level before, and he was frankly ready to get quit because of the boredom.

There was no way Damian could leave now though, not after such an embarrassing loss. He vowed then and there that Danny was his enemy, and he would defeat him.

It was when Damian was observing Danny during another fight that he noticed it. Danny wasn’t just a skilled fencing player, he was trained to fight with an actual blade.

Was Danny also trained to be an assassin from a young age? He had to know more.

[dailynnt]

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST

⋆˙⟡ Summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.

⋆˙⟡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

⋆˙⟡ Age restrictions: 18+

⋆˙⟡ Index of chapters: ≣

⋆˙⟡ Number of chapter: 12/?

⋆˙⟡ Tags: enemies-to-neighbors-to-lover, fake relationship, hate to desire, dom!Jungkook, heated blackmail, one bed trope (later more than one bed), undeniable chemistry, forced deal, mutual obsession, dangerous game, unexpected feelings, passion on edge, impossible to resist, tension and desire, unprotected sex, sexual tension, slow burning

⋆˙⟡ From author: Hi guys ❤️‍🔥 I wrote part 12 for you 💗 I soooo wanted to post it earlier, but I didn't manage 💔 But it's ready today! So what do you think? I'm a little nervous because I'm still not satisfied with my writing 😣 Give me a few words so I know what you think 🥺

⋆˙⟡ Dedication: to my biggest love @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle for loving me for nothing. I love you girls twice as much 🥺🤭💜🫶🏻

⋆˙⟡ Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @ottergirl, @vantelover1306, @deepikhaprakash, @mar-lo-pap, @zeytiable, @lallataegi, @vintagemoonsstuff, @indigomoonchild09, @diame93, @bts-ruu, @asyr97, @taeloversblog, @songbyeonkim, @miniruuu, @hubbytaehyung, @queen1599, @goldenboysmuse , @nikkinikj, @kookiesncreamri, @guwol, @unholyforjk, @hisdecalcomania17 (If you want to be on the tag list, let me know)

⋆˙⟡ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text 🥹

Chapter 12. The first date

You walked into the apartment, feeling your heart pounding. You still have the taste of his kiss on your lips. You want to scold yourself for letting him do whatever he wants so easily. But yesterday, after the meeting with your mother, you were broken. The moment when he stood up for you, put his chest to your crying, opened up a different side of Jungkook for you. He no longer seemed like the arrogant, self-absorbed neighbor who did nothing but piss you off. Yesterday, you saw him as a man of great strength and backbone. He consoled you so carefully that your heart ached, and the walls of defense you had erected against him cracked and crumbled.

You had long ago recognized that you were physically attracted to Jungkook, but not morally, but yesterday everything changed. When he hugged you in bed, you realized that you needed him. In that moment, you needed him, and the sex that followed almost drove you crazy, because it felt completely different. Not as something you would regret, but as something you needed.

You're afraid you're going to fall in love with Jungkook, because it turns out he's not only good at fucking you, but he's also tender with you, and that's the most dangerous thing. You notice that he wants to touch you all the time. And when he does, you feel something strange. Like you're getting an electric shock, or a wave of heat goes through your body.

He behaves as if you belong to him, and it started with that night, which was the price for his service. Since then, he thinks he can have you whenever he wants and however he wants. And the worst part is that you want him to. No matter how hard you try to push him away or deny your relationship, you're here. You play the role of his girlfriend and you fuck whenever you want. And you want to do it a lot.

Your head is boiling from the flow of thoughts in your head, how to behave properly, how not to fall in love with him, how to learn to react to him more calmly? You didn't know the answers to all these questions. You exhaled a big sigh, dropping your things and walking inside the apartment. Maybe you should let things go? Let it happen? But won't you regret it when the deal comes to an end? Won't it be hard for you to continue living next door to Jungkook without feeling anything for him? You're afraid it will. Because even when he's not around, you subconsciously want him to be.

Why? Because yesterday you felt protected by him? But didn't you feel the need for his presence before the situation with your mother?

You are playing with fire, which can not only burn you, so it will hurt, it can burn you, destroy you. You will try to keep your cool, and maybe then Jungkook will turn away from you.

You put your things away and decided to take a bath, as the trip from Busan had exhausted you.

You barely talked to Jungkook on the way home because his phone just wouldn't stop ringing. It was because he wasn't in the office on a weekday, and there were many things that needed his attention. You were secretly watching how he conducted business, how he talked, and how he made decisions. You could tell that he was very good at what he did. He is a worthy heir to a large company and will be a great CEO when his time comes.

So, to get rid of your tiredness, you wanted to lie in the bathtub, which was perfect for relaxing your body.

You filled up the tub with warm water, added lavender-scented salt, and lathered up. You undressed and climbed into the tub. The water enveloped your body, swallowing you up like a cocoon. The smell of lavender filled your nostrils, and the warm water made you almost purr with pleasure. You closed your eyes and listened to the melody you had turned on your phone, completely immersing yourself in a relaxed atmosphere.

At first you lay there almost motionless, then you moved your arms a little under the water, stirring up small foamy waves. Your phone vibrated, your grandmother was calling. You picked up the phone, talked to her, told her that you had arrived quickly, and that Jungkook had gone to the office. Your grandmother didn't miss the chance to praise Jungkook once again and tell you how happy she was that you had him.

You listened to her with a pang in your heart. What will happen when she finds out that you're not seeing him anymore, when the agreement expires? She'll be upset, and she'll definitely be angry with Jungkook. What if she finds out that your relationship with him is fake? Will she be able to take that kind of blow? You shuddered at the thought.

You heard your grandmother calling you on the phone, because you had been thinking for too long. You said you were tired and wanted to rest. Grandma understood what you were saying and almost immediately afterwards, saying that she loved you and was grateful for everything you and Jungkook had done for her, she hung up.

You closed your eyes again, enjoying your bath, trying not to think about Jungkook, but it was not working. Moments from the morning and the past times you'd been together with him kept flashing through your mind. Your insides felt like they were being mixed a spoon when you involuntarily remembered how he entered you, what words he whispered to you. How he made you feel the best orgasm that no one before him had ever given you. You ran up to your feet, and your knees immediately touched the air, which was cool against the water.

You opened your eyes and looked at your feet. How do you stop thinking about him? But just as you were about to do so, his name appeared on your phone screen. Your heart lurched somewhere in your throat, but you ignored it and picked up the phone without wasting any time.

"Hello," you answered the call, trying to keep your tone even.

"Is the kitten busy?" you heard Jungkook's voice say. He sounded soft and playful. You immediately realized that he was calling for a reason. You had just seen him twenty minutes ago. He had a lot to do, which meant he was calling with a specific purpose.

"I'm taking a bath, what do you want?" you asked, sharper than you meant to.

"Oh... if I can video call you?" Jungkook asked. And his low voice made your body react in a way you didn't want it to. A subtle throbbing started between your legs. If you were really a couple, you'd let him call and make him wish he was around. But you won't give him that privilege because your relationship is fake. You clicked your tongue in irritation.

"Jungkook, say what you want or I'm hanging up," you warned, forcing him to get to the point of the call. You sat down, wrapping your arms around your knees.

"You shouldn't have said no, but I'm calling for a reason. Kitten, take a bath, put on something nice. In 15 minutes my manager will come to pick you up, I need you in the office."

You froze, trying to understand what Jungkook had just said.

"You mean in the office? Why?" you wondered.

"I'll explain when you get there," you heard him say. You were not satisfied with this answer. You really felt exhausted and had no desire to go anywhere else.

"We just got here, Jungkook, I'm tired after the trip, can I come tomorrow?" you asked, protesting but hoping that he didn't have a serious reason for your visit.

"No kitten, you need to be here in exactly half an hour." he replied in a tone that didn't accept objections. You exhaled a doomed breath, you saw no point in arguing with them, seemed like it had some to do with the deal, but he didn’t say it right away. And it was pissing you off.

"What should I wear?" you asked, trying to figure out what he needed you for in the office. And to avoid another argument over your appearance.

"Dress like we're going on a date," Jungkook told you. A date? He wants you to go on a date?

"I usually wear a t-shirt and jeans, is that okay?" your voice was filled with irony.

"If you feel comfortable wearing those clothes to an expensive restaurant, then sure, you can dress like a kitten," Jungkook replied. You heard him smile slightly. You exhaled nervously into the phone again. Of course, if this is a date with Jungkook, it will be an expensive restaurant and definitely media attention. So you need to dress nice and expensive.

"Okay, I'll be ready in 15 minutes." you promised.

"I'm waiting for you," he said happily.

You were the first to hang up and groaned, throwing the phone on the table. You wanted to rest so badly, but Jungkook had already ruined your plans with his "fake date."

At the entrance, right in front of the front door, you spotted a black car waiting for you. Spotlessly clean, with tinted windows, it looked luxurious. Jungkook's manager, a serious man who didn't seem to know how his face muscles worked, stood by the car. As soon as you approached, he bowed slightly, greeted you, introduced himself as Manager Lee Ji-hyun, and opened the back door for you.

You greeted back and got inside, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Inside, there was a subtle scent of leather and expensive perfume. Manager Lee silently took the driver's seat and drove off without another word.

You drove in silence for a while. You were checking your phone, and for some reason you were nervous at the thought of visiting Jungkook's office and after that going on a date afterwards.

The car drove smoothly onto the main road, the manager was silent. He certainly didn't have to entertain you, but his silence weighed on your shoulders. To break the silence, you tried to find out why you had to go to the Jungkook.

"Excuse me," you said, "Do you know why I need to go to Jungkook's office urgently..." in the rearview mirror, you met Manager Lee's attentive gaze. And thinking that you had called Chunguk informally, you quickly added, "Jungkook-nim?"

"Jungkook-nim will personally explain everything to you," he replied politely, without adding anything else.

You sighed slightly and leaned back. You stopped talking to him. Manager Lee seemed like a man who would not disobey an order even under pressure.

Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly to the huge ‘Jeon Group’ building. It looked like a glass tower that almost reached the clouds. It looked like dozens of similarly successful companies, but for some reason it seemed special. It was typical, but it stood out from the crowd.

Manager Lee silently drove into the underground parking lot, deftly maneuvering among the expensive cars. As soon as you parked, he got out, walked around the car, and gave you a short nod, inviting you to follow him.

You hurried after him across the large gray parking lot to the elevator. He pressed a special button, and a few seconds later the doors opened in front of you. The elevator was spacious, with mirrored walls and golden panels on the sides. You felt a little dizzy-not only because of the height you were going up, but also because of the tension inside you.

You did not meet a single person. It was obvious that this was a private elevator used only by executives. Your pulse was racing with each floor you passed. When the doors finally opened, you were greeted by a spacious reception area, elegant and restrained in gray and white.

Behind the desk sat the receptionist, a young woman with perfect hair and a professional smile. When she saw you, she raised her eyebrows in interest and greeted you warmly, quickly looking you up and down. Manager Lee informed the secretary that you were here to see CEO Jeon Jungkook on a personal matter.

You politely greeted her back, a little embarrassed to see her studying you. The manager did not linger in the reception area, he hurried to Jungkook’s office and you intuitively followed him. The manager was the first to enter, announcing that you had arrived.

"Jungkook-nim, Y/N has arrived," you heard him officially announce.

You held your breath as you followed him into the office. You stepped inside, and your fingers involuntarily tightened on the strap of your purse. You tried to act confident.

Jungkook's gaze, which looked up from the tablet, burned you instantly. His fingers froze over the screen. His eyes...

They swallowed you whole, as if you were the only person in this entire huge office.

You nervously brushed your hair behind your ear, feeling the cream dress cling to your skin. It fit you perfectly, you knew that, but now you felt naked under his gaze.

You watched him stand up. How he took a step toward you, and you had to use an effort of will to keep yourself from stepping back. You wanted to look calm. But inside, everything was turning upside down. You didn't understand why you were reacting to him like that. Why he suddenly caused your heart to race.

You noticed Jungkook's jaw tense slightly as he slowly looked you up and down. His eyes were dark, sparkling... almost dangerous.

"Manager Lee, thank you for bringing me the Y/N. You can go now," his voice was low, vibrating, and you tried your best not to react to it.

You couldn't see, but you guessed that Manager Lee nodded and bowed. The barely audible rustle of his suit gave him away. He left and you were left with the two of you. There was a silence in the air, and you wanted to break it as soon as possible so that it wouldn't press on your ears.

"You asked me to look like we were going on a date," you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice was a little strained. You looked away, took a few steps to the side, as if you were curious to see his office. "Do I look appropriate?" I threw over my shoulder, touching my fingers to the golden rabbit statue on his desk.

There was no response. You felt his gaze on you and it literally burned you.

He came even closer, and his voice finally sounded hoarse.

"You look... dangerously appropriate." the next moment his arms slid around your waist. You felt the strength of his palms as he held you close. Your heart was beating wildly. You were frozen in place, as if you were paralyzed.

His face leaned down to your shoulder, and you felt his nose touch your skin. He inhaled your scent deeply. The sweet smell of apricots that you had chosen for yourself today seemed to appeal to him.

"Jungkook..." You whispered nervously, grabbing his hands, trying to push him away, to stop him. You were in his office, and anyone could walk in, because door was unlocked. "What are you doing? What if someone comes in?"

The answer was a kiss on the earlobe. A light bite that almost made your knees buckle.

"That's my plan..." he murmured low, his lips burning against your skin.

You turned your head, forcing yourself to keep your distance, even though his proximity was driving you crazy. Your brain was boiling.

"What do you mean?" you whispered, trying to figure out what exactly this plan was. His eyes slid to your lips, staying there long enough for you to know for sure that he wanted to kiss you.

"My mother should be here soon with Sukhi," his voice sounded almost weightless. "They wanted to pick me up to have dinner with them. But I'm busy. I'm going on a date with my girlfriend."

You were instantly filled with anger. You opened your eyes wide.

"You do it again, Jeon!" you exploded, instinctively pulling away. His hands reluctantly dropped. "Why didn't you tell me in the first place that your mother would be here?!" you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling anger and anxiety mixing inside you. You weren't ready to meet his mother at all. Not so soon. "I should to known, Jungkook! I could have at least prepared myself mentally!". Again, he confronted you with a fact.

Jungkook looked at you calmly. As calmly as if this were a completely normal situation. His eyes were sparkling. There was something... unstoppable in them.

"I knew you would react this way," he said, moving toward you.

"You knew and you are deliberately doing this to spite me?" you asked colorlessly. And then it all happened too fast. Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and pushed you against the table with a sharp movement. You gasped, and before you knew it, you felt a hard surface beneath you.

He lifted you to the edge of the table, standing between your legs, holding you tightly by the hips. His face was so close that you could feel his hot breath.

"You don't have to worry, kitten," he purred, his gaze darkened, stirring desire in you. "I'm just going to show you to your mother. It won't take more than a minute. And then we'll go..."

"I don't..." you began, but your words were lost in his sudden, passionate kiss. Jungkook's lips covered yours, leaving you no chance to escape.

You felt his arms holding you even tighter, his lips demanding more than you were ready to give. You were overcome with frenzy-sweet, intoxicating, disturbing. You felt moisture instantly soaking your underwear.

You had been in his office. You couldn't do it here. But Jungkook's touch made you forget everything but your unrestrained desire.

While enjoying Jungkook's kiss, you didn't immediately hear the office door open.

"Jungkook-ah, son..." a cold female voice said. Your heart sank to your heels. Jungkook slowly pulled away from your lips, but his arms still held you.

You could feel his chest heaving with his breath. Jungkook turned his head, and you saw them.

His mother.

And Sukhi.

They were standing in the doorway, their eyes on you.

You can't even imagine how horrible it looked in their eyes. You are sitting on the table. Jungkook is standing between your legs with his hands on your hips.

You were ready to fall through the ground. And you definitely wanted to kill Jungkook right now.

Your anger knew no bounds. You turned away from Jungkook, who was driving and didn't seem to feel any guilt at all. The music in the Mercedes was playing, trying unsuccessfully to muffle the loud silence between you. The scene you had experienced ten minutes ago flashed in your mind over and over again.

You abruptly jumped off the table, pushing Jungkook away. Your face was flushed red and your hands were shaking. Jungkook didn't take a step back. He just turned lazily towards the guests, and a half-smile appeared on his face, the same self-confident and impudent one that made you lose your temper every time.

"Mom," he greeted calmly, not even trying to hide his impudence. "Sukhi."

You were ready to break through the ground, you wanted to disappear. You had never felt so terrible. You looked down, thinking of the most horrible way to kill Jungkook.

Jungkook's mother looked at you sternly, her gaze icy and hard, but you didn't see it. Sukhi looked hurt and upset at first, and then a smile appeared on her face, a gloating, subtle smile. And Jungkook didn't like it, her first reaction was better suited to the situation.

"I see you're very... busy," Jungkook's mother said with icy restraint. "But Manager Lee assured me that you're free tonight."

"Yeah, mom, already a bit busy," Jungkook said without shame, putting his hand on your waist. You glared at him, wanting to slap him. "But never mind . Y/N and I were going to leave."

"Y/N..." Jungkook's mother repeated your name. Your insides clenched. You heard the soft click of her heels and unconsciously held your breath. She stopped a few steps away. "Is this the same girl that the journalists recently wrote about?" she asked, as if driving a knife into your body with every word.

Jungkook's mother looked at you, and you could almost physically feel her gaze.

"Yes, mom, it's her." you heard Sukhi’s voice. "Jungkook introduced me to her at the after-party for the opening of the ‘Vante Maison’ boutique."

His mother didn't react to Sukhi’s words. There was a moment of silence, and then Jungkook's mother said.

"Son, I understand why you're playing with this girl. She's really pretty, but you know... you need to end it. Tell Manager Lee to order a taxi for her and let's go have dinner with your future fiancée..." Jungkook's mother didn't have time to finish her sentence because he interrupted her.

"Mom…" his voice was steady, but the irritation in it was unmistakable. "I don’t have a fiancée. What I have is this girl — and I’m not playing games with her, I’m dating her. And right now, I’m taking her on a date, so I won’t be able to go with you."

He said each word slowly, clearly, as if to finally make it sink in — for both his mother and Suhee: he wasn’t playing by their rules.

Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the office exit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You felt Jungkook touch your thigh. Holding back your anger, you looked at his hand on your skin, and then slowly looked up at him. He glared at you, but quickly turned back to the road.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" he said quietly, with a guilty, almost boyish smile.

"Angry?" you stared at his profile, barely restraining the urge to hit him, "Why would I be angry, huh, Jeon? Because your mother looked at me as if I were a cheap accessory to be disposed of as soon as possible?"

"Do you care about my mother's opinion?" Jungkook suddenly asked, squeezing your thigh lightly. You raised your eyebrows, not understanding what he was getting at.

"No. But..." you trailed off, catching yourself thinking that you were really upset that his mother didn't accept you.

"She wouldn't to approve you even if you weren't my fake girlfriend. She wants me to marry Sukhi. So don't take her behavior into account," Jungkook reassured you.

Those words hit you like a cold shower. Yes, you are not Jungkook's real girlfriend. It made sense that his mother didn’t welcome you with open arms on the doorstep — youwere just an obstacle in her family's big plans. You turned away. Why do you feel humiliated by this situation?

"Just warn me about your damned antics next time. I'm tired of improvise," you grunted, hiding your emotions behind your irritation.

"Okay," he replied seriously. "Next time I'll tell you right away. Although," his lips slipped into a half-smile, "you're not bad at improvising, today, for example, you were so good to keep silence."

"Gosh, just shut up," you couldn't stand his insolence. You pushed his hand away, and Jungkook didn't like it. He gave a sideways glare at you. You sat with your arms crossed and looked straight ahead. Your eyebrows remained furrowed in displeasure.

A few minutes later, you pulled up to the restaurant. Jungkook parked the car. You was looking at the expensive place and only now did it dawn on you that you had come here for a fake first date.

"Umgg.." you squeezed out. Now you felt sadness mixed with irritation, but you'd have to smile and act like Jungkook's happy girl. He turned to you.

"If you don't want to go inside, I can take you home," he offered. You could hear the tension in his voice. He didn't seem to like your mood, but whose fault was that?

You asked him without turning your head.

"Can I really refuse? Or is it your voluntary and forced choice again?" you said sarcastically. Jungkook nervously leaned back in his car seat, his posture relaxed, though his eyes said he wasn't in the mood to play right now.

"Do you want to refuse?" he asked in a serious tone that sent a chill down your spine. You finally turned your face to him.

"Yes, I do, I don't want to play your lucky pleasure toy," you said. Jungkook moved forward sharply, and in a matter of seconds he closed the distance between you. He leaned on the armrest and looked at you with a piercing gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a low voice that made your pulse quicken. You glanced at his lips in betrayal and then quickly returned to his eyes. It was no more than a second, but Jungkook caught it. He was attentive to every detail about you.

"Yes," you said firmly, without any hesitation. "Take me home. I don't want to go on a date with you." Jungkook was angry. He didn't look away. His jaw tensed, and a fire flashed in his eyes that you'd seen before, the one that appeared when he wasn't going to give in.

And then, unexpectedly, he leaned in even closer, so close that your breath hitched.

"It's a pity you don't want to. Because I've already decided that you're staying," his voice sounded dull, low, dangerous. His hand took you sharply, but not roughly, by the chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. You grabbed his hand and threw it away.

"You offered to drive me if I didn't want to go. I don't want to," you repeated again. "And don't grab me like that. I'm not your property..." you said, your voice trembling with anger.

Jungkook froze for a moment. His lips were pressed into a thin line. Then he silently unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. You followed his figure with your eyes, realizing that he was walking to your door. He opened it and leaned towards you. You stared in surprise at his face, which was close. He also released your body from the seatbelt, and before you could get a word in edgewise, he grabbed your arm and pulled you outside. Jungkook closed the car door and pushed you against it. His strong body pressed against yours felt good. Jungkook almost kissed you, keeping his lips within touching distance.

"Am I so unpleasant to you that you refuse to go out with me?" he asked, purring against your lips. You watched his lips move in awe. The way the piercing on his lower lip glistened.

"No..." you said the truth, mesmerized by his closeness, "it's just that my mood has gone to hell," you said quietly, holding his elbows.

"I can lift it very easily, you know that..." he whispered, touching your cheek with his nose. He was driving you crazy with his actions. Your heart melted and you couldn't be angry with him anymore. "Where should I lift it up for you in the car, or in the restaurant's restroom?" he asked playfully. He looked at you, and his eyes were full of undisguised desire.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a slight wave of excitement run through your body. You glanced behind him. There were a lot of people near the restaurant and in the restaurant itself. You didn't see anyone looking at you, but it was definitely was.

"Jungkook," you tried to increase the distance between your faces, "there are a lot of people here..."

Jungkook looked into your eyes and smiled, pleased that you were reacting more calmly.

"It’s not just crowded here — there are also journalists who would be thrilled to write yet another article about our relationship." he said, kissing you lightly on the corner of your mouth. You instinctively closed your eyes, and when you realized he wasn't going to continue, you opened them.

"Did you take care of it? I think I will get a new portions hateful comments. Some people wrote that you have a taste problem." you said, smiling slightly. You remembered one of the comments under those articles where you were first called Jungkook's mistress. And that comment was not the most offensive.

"They must have a problem with their eyesight if they think I have no taste," Jungkook said irritably, his eyebrows furrowing. You bit your lips to hide the smile provoked by Jungkook's response.

"Maybe you have really bad taste?" you joked, "come on, I can tell you that if you tell me your ideal type."

"You" Jungkook answered immediately. The smile that had been frozen on your face slipped away. You felt something invisible squeezing your chest.

"Me?" you couldn't believe your ears. This can't be happening. He's just trying to play on your feelings. He's manipulating you to stop being angry with him.

"You heard me, kitten. You're my perfect type of girl," Jungkook assured you. He touched your cheek with the back of his hand. He stroked it lightly, savoring your confusion, "But your temper is a nightmare," he smiled slyly. He's a master at ruining a good moment.

"Idiot..." you said quietly, turning your head away. Jungkook laughed heartily. You were outraged by what he said about your character, because you thought you were a person of good character. Jungkook squeezed you tighter in his arms and leaned over, touching your forehead.

"But I have to admit that your character is a real challenge for me, and I love challenges."

You sighed, trying not to give in to the emotions he was stirring up in you. His closeness was intoxicating. His words were irritatingly pleasant. But you couldn't afford to lose control again.

"Let's go, I'm hungry." you ignored his words, hiding the real emotions.

"Yes, kitten, we'll go, but first, a convincing gesture that we're a couple," Jungkook said, and the next moment he touched your lips. His tongue unceremoniously burst into your mouth, demonstrating his superiority.

You felt your heart clench sharply. Jungkook was so confident that even his kiss seemed dominant, but there was no violence in it, only a deafening, slightly unbridled heat. You couldn't just pull away, even though you knew it would hurt your control. He seemed to know exactly how to exploit all your weaknesses.

You responded to him, trying to control yourself, but his bent body, his heat permeating every cell of your skin, made it difficult. When the kiss broke, you did your best not to look too confused.

"Now let's go, Jin will feed you the most delicious food in Seoul," Jungkook said as he intertwined your fingers. So this luxurious restaurant, ‘Nocturne’, belongs to Jin. The guy you met at the afterparty.

The entrance to the restaurant was luxurious. The warm light inside created a cozy atmosphere The interior was decorated in delicate pastel colors, dominated by shades of pink - from muted powdery to deeper, rich colors.

The walls were covered with soft light panels with textured plaster, and abstract paintings in a pink gradient hung between them. The silky tablecloths reflected the light, and each table had a small vase of peonies and tea roses.

The hostess - a tall, slender girl in a stylish black dress with a pale pink belt - came to you almost instantly as soon as you crossed the threshold. Her face lit up when she saw Jungkook.

"Jungkook-nim," she bowed slightly, smiling. "It's good to see you again. It's been a while." It was obvious that he was a frequent visitor here, and it was not surprising, since it was his friend's restaurant. The hostess gave you a brief, attentive glance, after which her smile became even warmer, but with a touch of professional politeness. "Please, let me show you to the best table."

She led you past several tables set up near tall windows, behind which the lights of the evening city shimmered slightly, and to a table in a secluded corner of the room, a little away from the other guests. The table was covered with a pink tablecloth, and napkins with the restaurant's embroidered initials were already waiting for them.

"Your waiter will be with you in a moment," the hostess said and politely left.

You looked around. Less than a minute later, a young waiter approached you with a tablet in his hands. He was a little nervous when he met Jungkook's eyes and quickly bowed.

"Good evening. My name is Jihoon, and I'll be serving you tonight. What would you like to order?"

"Can you have Kim Seokjin serve me and my girlfriend the best romantic dinner possible?" Jungkook replied calmly, not needing a menu. The young man became even more nervous, but smiled as he bowed.

"I will pass on your request to our chef. Do you have any special requests for drinks?"

"No, Jihoon, no need for additional drinks. Just serve what will be best for this dinner," Jungkook said, his voice low and calm, as if he controlled every movement in the space.

The waiter nodded and, with another quick bow, quickly left.

You glanced around the room and noticed that there were a lot of people in the restaurant. You looked around the interior for a moment longer, and then turned your head to Jungkook, and he was already looking at you, with a mysterious smile on his lips.

"What?" you asked, reservedly.

"Nothing... I just thought I've never brought a girl here before. You're the first."

You arched an eyebrow, not believing what he was saying.

"Why didn't you bring a girl here? Were you afraid Jin would see how many of them were?" you scoffed.

"Not for that reason. He already knows how many there were. And it's not dozens, as you think." Jungkook replied, putting his hands on the table and locking them. You still didn't believe him.

"Then what's the reason?" you asked sincerely. He shrugged and then looked away, sliding his gaze across the hall.

"Probably because this place is special to me. It's connected to the real me. With my best friend. I didn't want to share something so personal with someone else."

Jungkook's words impressed you. You felt special and you couldn't help but like it. The fact that he had shared something personal with you caused a warm wave in your chest. But the part of you that was used to not trusting him made itself known.

"Why did you want to share with me?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Because I learned something about you yesterday, and it wouldn't be fair of me if I didn't do the same," he answered, smiling slightly. You looked at him for a long few seconds. You understood perfectly well what he was talking about. Jungkook recognized your personal trauma related to your mother, and he wanted to share something personal with you as well. For example, he wanted to take you to a special place for him, where no one from his circle except his friends ever goes.

You didn't know what to say, because you were pleasantly surprised by his behavior, which was new to you. Jungkook was becoming more and more unlike the Jungkook you knew as a neighbor.

You were saved from the awkwardness that arose between you by Jin, the chef of this luxurious restaurant, who was rapidly approaching your table. You noticed him first, and smiled at his cheerful mood. Jungkook noticed your gaze shift and turned around.

"Did you really bring your girlfriend to my restaurant?" asked Jin, smiling and opening his arms to hug his friend. Jungkook stood up and for some reason you stood up too. They hugged each other like family.

"Yes, Jin-hyun. I thought she should know who cooks the best food in Seoul," Jungkook said as he let go of Jin. Jin bowed slightly to you, and you bowed back.

"It's good to see you, Y/N. Now I can definitely see that Jungkook-ah is serious about you," he leaned in, pressing his hands to his lips as if he wanted to share a secret, but he said it so Jungkook could hear it, "he's never brought a girl here, he's not the dating type."

You smiled sweetly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I'm really glad that Jungkook brought me to you, Jin-shi. and wants to go a date with me. It makes me feel special," you lied, you turned your gaze to Jungkook and met his attentive gaze. You could barely stop yourself from raising your eyebrows in surprise. He looked at you almost without blinking, with a mesmerized gaze. Your heart skipped a beat, why was he staring like that?

"It would be my honor to prepare a romantic dinner for you. I will choose the best dishes and won't keep you waiting long. I hope you enjoy it," Jin said sincerely. He put his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, pulling him away from you.

"We sure will," Jungkook said.

Jin went to the kitchen, and right after he left, a waiter brought you a white semi-sweet wine. He poured you two glasses and wished you a pleasant evening and left. Jungkook grabbed a glass and you followed suit.

"Cheers to us," Jungkook suggested. You smiled tensely.

"To our deal. For it to work," you added. Jungkook nodded and the sound of glass diluted the noise around you. You took a few sips and the flavor of the grapes blossomed on your tongue. You noticed that Jungkook was staring at you and tried to act calm. But it wasn't working out well. You were nervous about his piercing gaze today.

"Relax, kitten, you look so tense, it's just dinner," Jungkook suddenly said as he put his glass on the table. He noticed your tense state and you didn't like it. You need to control your body language better. You really need to relax, but Jungkook is the direct cause of your tension. His behavior makes your heart beat faster, and it makes you feel strange.

"I'd be more relaxed if you weren't eating me up with your eyes," you said as casually as you could. You took another sip of wine, instinctively hiding behind the glass.

Jungkook laughed, his eyes still on you, a soft laugh with a hint of amusement. You realized that he was really enjoying the fact that he could embarrass you so much. He dodged a direct answer, but you saw his lips turn up slightly at the corners.

"I'm not eating you. I'm just... admiring," he said, almost a whisper, and his gaze softened, but it made you lose control even more "It's hard to look away when looking at a woman like that."

Your cheeks lit up, and you instantly looked away. Was the wine starting to take effect, or was it him? It seems that today Jungkook decided to attack you with emotions, not words. And you were completely unprepared for it.

"Are you trying to throw compliments at me, hoping for something after dinner?" you asked ironically. He burst out laughing again.

"Doesn't a date end with sex after a romantic dinner?" he answered with a question, making his voice seductively playful. You hummed, unconsciously, pressing your thighs together. The thought of having sex with Jungkook after your fake date was already burning red in your head. You wonder to yourself how he can make you feel this uncontrollable desire. To be honest, you hope that this is how your evening will end, but you can't show it to him. There's no way Jungkook can find out that you want to have sex with him.

"Seems like all your dates end this way, huh? Hate to disappoint you, but for normal people — it doesn’t always go like this," you said sarcastically. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, looking surprised.

"Really? That's so boring," he said. You gave a short laugh.

"It's not boring," you argued. "Decent people don't have sex after the first date," you said indignantly. Jungkook was enjoying your conversation, his eyes burning with curiosity.

"You've never had sex on a first date?" he asked, smiling broadly, and sipped his wine. You raised your eyebrows.

"Never! I don't sleep with men I barely know," your answer made Jungkook's eyes light up. He leaned back in his chair and looked at you slyly, as if you had just told a lie.

"You hardly knew me either when we first had sex. But you slept with me anyway," he said, watching your reaction closely. You froze, not expecting such words.

"We've known each other for a long time..." you began uncertainly, trying to justify yourself, but Jungkook interrupted you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"I..." you trailed off, swallowing your indecision along with the bitterness in your chest. "It was different. You wanted sex as payment for a favor, and... I was... in a very difficult position at the time."

Jungkook was listening intently, but he didn't seem satisfied with your explanation. He raised his eyebrows slightly and pursed his lips, as if to suggest that your answer was just an attempt to escape the truth.

"So you only agreed because you had no choice?" he asked quietly, but his voice was a mixture of resentment and curiosity. He wasn't angry, no. But you felt that he was waiting for something more. Maybe even sincerity.

"Um..." you really didn't know what to say. In fact, you agreed because you wanted to. If you hadn't been attracted to Jungkook, you wouldn't have even let him touch you. "Yes," you lied. You were afraid to tell him openly that you liked him. "You threatened to make my life in the neighborhood terrible." You remembered what he said.

Jungkook tilted his head. He couldn't believe that you didn't want him as much as he wanted you. From the first day you met him, he could feel the sexual tension between you and he knew, that you felt it too.

"And the other times?" he asked, "you also had no choice?"

You felt a heat run up your spine. You felt hot, and you wanted to end this topic as soon as possible.

"We actually talked about dating," you tried to change the subject. Jungkook smiled, he could see how nervous you were, and it made him feel hot.

Jungkook didn't look away. His smile became slow, almost lazy, and there was something predatory and alluring about it.

"Yes, we talked about dating..." he trailed off, as if savoring every word. His voice became low and deep, and you caught him trying to suppress a subtle laugh. "You're contradicting yourself. You assurer that you don't have sex with men at first date, because you don’t know his well, but you agreed to have sex with me, a man you barely knew," Jungkook summarized.

"You don't take into account the circumstances under which I agreed," you said, unhappy, clutching your glass involuntarily.

"No, you're just not the good girl you want to appear to be," Jungkook said, still smiling slyly. Your eyes widened in shock, indignation, and... anger. Who was he to make such a judgment about you?

Jungkook stood up, put his chair next to yours, and sat down, boldly and brazenly violating your personal space. As always, without asking permission. His knee touched yours. And you seemed to be frozen.

He leaned closer, so close that you could feel his warm breath sliding across your cheek. His voice was low, muffled, dangerously slow.

"You act like you're only interested in control, only in rules... But your eyes tell me more than you want to. You want to be exposed. To have your soul bared."

You held your breath.

His fingers touched your wrist. Gently. Barely. But it was enough to make your body tense.

"You're the kind of person who's afraid of their desires, but dreams of someone guessing them. For someone... to stop you from running away from yourself." His gaze did not let go. Warm, but commanding. Piercing. He slid his fingers down the outside of your thigh, over the fabric of your skirt, slowly, steadily, as if he were testing how far he could go without saying a word.

You gulped in a breath, your heart beating with double the force. His touch was light, but a wave was already rising inside you.

"Look at you," his voice was barely audible, almost a whisper, sliding over you like silk. "You're trembling because you want me to touch you..."

You tried to say something, but the words dissolved in his breath. He leaned in even closer and gently touched your lips-not with a kiss, but with a seduction.

"In fact, you love sex and are ready to sleep with a man on the first date if you like him. You're ready to suck his cock like any whore's can’t do, and let him have you completely and totally. You have a lot of hidden kinks that affect you and you don't mind exploring even more perversions if you're comfortable with your partner."

Jungkook's every word is like a blow to your solar plexus. You forget how to breathe. Your lips are slightly parted, and you see his eyes slide over them before meeting yours again. The look in Jungkook's eyes is one of confidence, of being right, and fuck, he's right. He good learned you and it scares.

"I'm not..." you wanted to argue, but your voice was shaking.

"Yes, you are," Jungkook replied quietly, his voice a dangerous, pleasant whisper. "You agreed to have sex with me, barely knowing me, because you're attracted to me, kitten." He slid his hand down under the skirt of your dress.

You felt your stomach clench with tension, and then he gently spread his warmth down. It seemed that he was not penetrating your skirt, but your skin.

You felt him touch your underwear. The pulse between your legs increased and moisture began to leak out.

"I can finger fuck you under the table right now and you wouldn't mind... that's how bad you are," he whispered in your ear. His breath burned your skin.

His fingers slid down to your thighs, pushed the edge of your thong away... and touched your most sensitive spot. At first hesitantly, teasingly, as if studying you. His middle finger slid along your wet slit, and you almost screamed.

You squeezed his hand with your legs, not stopping him, but rather pressing him closer. Your hand instinctively grabbed his wrist, and your cheek rested on his shoulder.

"Jungkook..." you whispered, chained by both fear and excitement. "The journalists... they..."

"They won't," his voice was hoarse, hard, almost angry. "I've chosen the perfect angle. Now, be quiet and obey."

He pressed harder, his thumb slowly beginning to draw circles on your clit, sensitively, without rushing, making you clench. The other two fingers penetrated deeper, stretching, pulsing inside you.

"So wet..." he breathed out, and his tongue touched your earlobe. You felt your whole body tremble.

He was taking his time. He was torturing you, corrupting every inch of you.

"Come on, kitten... Feel it. I want you to come here. For me."

A few smooth strokes, then a change of rhythm - faster, deeper - and then slowly again... He played you like an instrument.

You could feel your body being filled with waves. Each touch was like a flash. Your internal muscles began to tremble. You couldn't breathe.

His voice was the last push:

"You are my bad girl. Whoring under the table is your new name. Cum for me, kitten."

You clenched around his fingers, your body merged into one climactic wave, you gasped for breath, moaned softly, digging your fingers into his shirt. Your clit throbbed, a few more soft touches and you crumbled, helpless and trembling.

Jungkook kept his eyes on you. His fingers were still touching you-softly, gently, almost tenderly, as if they were calming your storm. Then he slowly pulled his hand out from under your skirt. He took a glass, took a sip, and said calmly:

"See?" his voice was softer but still deep, "You just came on my fingers." You clenched your jaw. A wave of shame and desire mixed in your chest, making your heart beat faster. "You want me even when you're not supposed to. Even when there are people around. And you hardly know me, so don't lie to yourself."

He leaned down and lightly touched your lips with his. He tasted each of your lips in turn, and finally pulled away with a reverent gesture. He sat up straight, as if nothing had happened.

Jungkook took another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving yours. There was everything in his gaze: triumph, desire, possession.

But you couldn't say anything. Your breathing hadn't steadied yet, and your heart was pounding in your chest as if it wanted to jump out.

Your legs trembled a little, and you tried your best to sit upright, even though you were still pulsing wave after wave inside. You clenched your jaw, trying to pull yourself together. Your hot cheeks gave you away.

And at that very moment, the waiter approached your table with a slight bend and a professional smile.

"Your appetizers," he said, placing the plates on the table. You tried your best not to look at Jungkook and not to give yourself away. You just took the glass of wine and took a sip, hiding the trembling of your lips.

"Thanks," Jungkook said calmly, as if nothing had happened. He pushed the plate over to you and whispered very quietly, keeping his eyes on you:

"Now, pretend to eat while your body still remembers my fingers."

You almost choked on the wine, but you gathered your strength. The smile on your lips was nervous, but your eyes were burning with... desire. And shame.

⇠ Previous ⟡ Index ➩ ⟡ Next ⇢

[httpsdana]

Heyyy, love your work🤍

would you write one of Yildiz and reader being in an argument and reader crying because of the accumulated stress(happend to me today, sm alike:(

Breaking Point~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: im so sorry you're feeling like this :( hopefully this can make you feel a bit better <33

It started so stupidly. A left dish in the sink, and now both of them were just yelling nonsense at each other.

"I'm always the one who has to do every single thing in this house! You never help with anything!" she yelled, throwing her arms in the air.

"What?" Kenan snapped back. "I'm always trying to help, but you're too damn stubborn to tell me what's wrong!"

"Nothing's wrong!" she said through gritted teeth.

"Listen, if something's wrong, you have to tell me, because I can't read your damn mind," he said, his tone lower this time.

Tears welled up in her eyes quickly, and before she could stop them, they started falling down her cheeks.

Kenan noticed immediately, stepping closer and cradling her face in his hands.

"Hey, hey, don't cry, baby. It's not worth it," he muttered, confused by her sudden breakdown.

He let her cry into his chest for a few minutes, full sobs and hot tears streaming down her face.

After a while, she calmed down a bit and pulled away from his embrace. When she tried walking away, he was quick to pull her back in.

"Hey…" He cupped her cheek, making her look up at him. "Tell me what's really wrong. I know you're not crying over an unwashed dish."

She shook her head, then let out a long sigh.

"I'm just very stressed, and everything has been accumulating. I feel like a failure," she took a deep breath before continuing, "and nothing I do seems to be enough. And now you probably think I'm dramatic for crying over this-but I'm just so tired, Kenan," she mumbled, her eyes welling up again.

Kenan felt his heart shatter at her confession, cursing himself for not noticing how she'd been feeling earlier. He pressed a long kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin.

"First of all, you're not a failure. You're the most successful woman I know," he said, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

"Second of all, you're more than enough, my love. You have no idea how amazing you're doing, and I'm so proud of you and every single thing you've accomplished," he added, kissing her other cheek.

"And finally, I don't think you're dramatic. You've been under a lot of stress, bottling everything up without telling me. It's my fault I didn't notice earlier, and I'm so sorry. But I promise you-none of the things you said are true. You're so strong for carrying all this weight alone. But let me help you carry some of it now, okay?" he said softly, pulling away to look at her tear-stained face.

She nodded hesitantly before wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," she mumbled against his hoodie.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for leaving that dish unwashed in the first place and not noticing how you’ve been feeling," he muttered against her hair, brushing his lips against the top of her head.

They stood there in the kitchen for a while, just wrapped in each other’s arms and enjoying the silence.

"I love you," he whispered, as if his voice might break her even more.

"I love you more," she whispered, pulling back just enough for her lips to graze his jaw.

He leaned down slightly, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, tender kiss, one that whispered 'I'll always be here'

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[hedwig221b]

stiles and derek body swap fics?

sure thing

Fuzzy Logic by Sparseparsley

Derek and Stiles switch bodies because of wizard reasons and Stiles just wants to know what that awesome scent is.

I'm Lost In You by matildajones

He knows he should move but a part of him still feels paralyzed. He has clear feelings of not being able to move his body, of not being able to even blink. “Oh my god,” Stiles says, and he clambers to his feet, feeling dizzy. He easily finds a mirror in the room and then the most gorgeous eyes stare back at him. They’re a sea-green instead of the normal brown that he’s used to. He’s looking at his soulmate. -- Stiles wakes up in his soulmate's body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn't wake up at all.

Your Body's My Body by derekstilinski

Derek and Stiles get body swapped… Interesting things happen.

Under My Skin by Renmackree

In his defense, Stiles wasn't even trying to find his way into the supernatural tonight. He had gone to a normal party at Danny's after their summer Lacrosse practice , met a normal girl who seemed interested in him, left with her to go to her normal apartment in the hopes of having normal sex for the first time. But, then again, when has anything normal happened to Stiles Stilinski?

Might Not Make It Back by GotTheSilver

Bodyswap. Because of the fun.

Yours, Mine, Our Body by christinchen

Stiles wishes Derek could see things from his perspective. His magic decides to grant him that wish. Literally.

Trust Fall

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide. Great. Wait…does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit. Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over. They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused. Of course.

it is so quite new a thing by sheafrotherdon

In the last, lazy moment before he opens his eyes, Derek realizes something is wrong.

i feel you in every heartbeat by warlock (sapphicblight)

Suddenly his entire body felt tingly and sensitive and he could swear gravity had failed on him just then; he couldn’t feel the chair he was sitting on, or where he’d planted his feet on the floor, or the clothes he was wearing, or the pen he was holding, and then his vision started blurring and morphing into a picture of some place that was not his classroom. “Oh, shi—” “—it,” he finished with a different voice. Or, the AU in which, on their 22nd birthday, a person will switch bodies with their soulmate and is left to figure out whom they're temporarily inhabiting, and how to get back to each other. But because Stiles is Stiles, he forgets that it's his birthday, and the bodyswap takes him by surprise.

if i was you and you were me, we'd still be us by thoughtsandthings

"Derek,” Stiles said slowly. “Why do you look like the evil twin version of me?” “Go look in the mirror.” - After swapping bodies, Stiles and Derek walk a mile in each other’s shoes and learn a lot about each other (and themselves) in the process.

[masterlist link]

[eleventhhourfactor]

🙏 - Possession with Mario

Ahahahahahaha...

Oh, have I been waiting for this one. As a bonus/apology, I'm gonna roll your previous prompt ask in with this as well...

..and sneak in a little reference here and there, both to other artists' takes on King Boo Mario and uh, another Kristen Schaal show. Shoutout to @akiiame-blog, @pianokantzart, @tinydragontoonz, and countless others for taking such wonderfully artistic stabs at a Mario possessed. If there's anyone who's slipped my mind, please tell me. There was a lot of art a while back, so I'm a bit fuzzy on who did what.

Here's the ask game for reference. I'll be doing this all weekend, with a big-ass break on Saturday because of comic con.

Without further ado, let's do this.

Mario - Possession🙏

"You just don't give up, do you?"

In any other context, such words would be encouraging, especially with Mario saying them. As things stood right now, with Luigi facing a twin possessed, he knew fully well what his opponent was trying to do.

Like thrice before, King Boo was trying to disarm him.

"You've dispelled our fused form when you slammed us around," the Boo snarled, moving Mario's mouth down into a frown unbecoming of his brother. "You've parted me from my crown. What else were you hoping to accomplish here?"

Luigi said nothing as he tightened his grip. This wasn't Mario, but it was still him—durable and dependable, at least from the outside, but overridden by the most malevolent of spirits within.

"I want you," Luigi demanded, "to let go of my bro."

"Hmm, let me think about it." King Boo moved a hand as though to tap out an idea, his borrowed finger tapping against darkened eyes and purple irises. "I haven't exactly been taking good care of this one, have I? Of course, he wouldn't be so roughed up if it weren't for you…"

Luigi narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think I will." King Boo crossed his vessel's arms. "You're gonna have to tear Mario apart to get rid of me."

"Is that what you think?"

Luigi took a step forward, his finger on the switch as King Boo raised a brow.

"Little note about the human body," Luigi said. "We're not made of pure energy. You might be the king of ghosts, but Mario's been awake for over twenty-four hours."

"S-So what?" King Boo sneered, though Luigi could see the facade begin to crack. "It's not like you've slept, either!"

"True," Luigi noted, "but E. Gadd makes a mean cup of coffee. What do you think's been in my thermos all this time?"

If King Boo had a retort, Luigi didn't care to hear it. With a pop and a flash, the ghost gave up his puppet, ascending up in a daze as Mario crumpled to the floor. Without a moment to lose, Luigi switched the Poltergust over to capture, seizing King Boo by his tail as he gave it all he had.

"NO!" King Boo screeched. "I will NOT be captured again! You can't do this!"

Luigi dug his feet in.

"You can't! I won't let you! This isn't the ennnnnnnd!"

Like thrice before, King Boo vanished into the tube with a squelch and not much more than a shake in protest. Luigi stood still as the Poltergust shuddered on his back, settling down as the room returned to normal, before shouldering it off onto the floor.

"Mario!" He practically slid onto his knees, taking up his brother's weary head in his lap. "Please be okay, oh, please be okay!"

"…Lu?"

Tired blue eyes stared up at him, wavering with wonder and another emotion Luigi couldn't quite place.

"It's okay," Luigi said, pulling him up into a hug. "You're okay."

"You got him?"

"Of course."

"I could've done more…"

"Don't say that," Luigi said with a shush. "You were possessed. I'm just glad you were able to come back."

They sat like that for what seemed like ages, with Mario holding onto him like a lifeline and Luigi reassuring him.

"You're safe now," Luigi kept saying. "I promise you that much. No more ghosts are gonna hurt you."

Mario could only shiver as Luigi kicked open the Pixelator.

"I've got you," Luigi said, collecting his brother in his arms after strapping the Poltergust back on. "Let's go home."

[grey-coyote]

Not Flirting - Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Summary: You’ve been running with the Van Der Linde gang for a couple of months now and a certain cowboy has caught your attention, but you’re not convinced that you’ve caught his. Everyone else at camp seems to see it though.

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, horses, awkward reader and Arthur, supportive best friends, Sean being loud, abrupt ending, author may write a part two

Word Count: 1853

A/N: I’ve been so busy lately, I wrote this and proofread only once, so I’m sorry for any mistakes! Another RDR2 post, this time for Arthur! I hope this is ok! <3333

—————

"Thank you, Miss Grimshaw!" You called out to the older lady, who only dismissed you with a wave of her hand, as you stood from where you were working. You walked over to where Uncle usually sat against a wagon, not expecting him to be anywhere else, and immediately spot him on the ground with his hat over his eyes. You cleared your throat to announce your presence and he lifted the hat, grabbing the shirt you held from your hand. "Thank you, Y/N! You know, that's my favorite shirt! Thanks for patching it up for me!"

"Of course." You nodded with a polite smile, knowing that if it was up to you, you'd have made him patch the hole in the fabric himself. Quickly turning around, you head over to the horses and patted a few of them before grabbing your own, praising her as you threw a rope around her neck.

You had joined the Van Der Linde gang a few weeks before they had arrived at Colter and you had quickly became friendly with most of the members, mainly the ladies you worked with. Occasionally, when you had a break between chores and you had enough time, you'd sneak off for a short ride. You loved to take your horse out for some alone time, enjoying the nice break without having to worry about your work or Grimshaw yelling at you about something.

As you cinched the saddle, Mary-Beth noticed you. "Does Grimshaw know?" She asked from behind you and you quickly looked back at her with a smile on your face. "Mhm. I wish you could come along." Both of you looked down at the bucket of water in her arms and she jokingly rolled her eyes, "I'm just convinced that you're her favorite." You finished tightening the saddle and moved up to untie your horse. "That's usually how it goes." You playfully shrugged, "Well, I'm off to enjoy my alone time. Have fun cleaning dirty laundry."

Mary-Beth teasingly cut her eyes at you as you glanced back at her while you laughed. "Stay safe!" She said with a smile as she turned to continue her chores.

After mounting your horse, you began your ride. The gang had just arrived at Horseshoe Overlook and you were excited to explore some of the area on your own. You had rode into Valentine with Arthur, Uncle, and the girls, but it was more of an overall bad memory than a good one for most of the people involved. It was a bad memory for the ladies because of some trouble they got into in town. It was a bad memory for you because as you were getting out of the wagon in town, you tripped and fell right onto your hands and knees in some mud. Right in front of Arthur.

The ladies at camp had first asked you if you had a crush on Arthur back in Colter. You had attempted to brush them off, denying any accusations that they made, but they saw right through you. Of course you had a crush on Arthur. He was very kind, never hesitating to help you out when you needed something and always being a very respectful man. The girls would occasionally mention that they thought Arthur had taken a liking to you too but you would always hush them before they could even finish their sentence, claiming that it was just nonsense. Arthur was a busy man, a dangerous outlaw, the right hand man of Dutch Van Der Linde. He was Arthur Morgan. You knew that he had no time for someone like you.

Soon after you got to Horseshoe Overlook, some of the other members asked you how you felt about Arthur. Javier had noticed a flirty interaction between the two of you. Curiosity took over him and later that evening he found you, "Hey, Y/N. Just wondering, is there something going on between you and Arthur?" You shook your head frantically, telling him no, and Javier just chuckled. "Okay." He responded, not sounding convinced at all.

Arthur was usually gone from camp during the day, away doing all sorts of things. You noticed that Dutch seemed to use him for work more than any of the other men. You didn't really mind it though, you worked better when Arthur wasn't around. On the rare occasion that Arthur was at camp while you were working, you'd be so distracted by just the sight of him that your chores would pile up and Grimshaw would call you out on it, flustering you even more.

You lost track of time as you rode around the plains of New Hanover. You weren't paying attention to much of anything until you saw Arthur on the road not far from you. He was on his Tennessee Walker and heading your direction, most likely returning to camp for lunch. As he got closer, you couldn't help but admire him. He had his black hat on his head and his brown hair was slightly messy, poking out from under his hat. You had noticed that it grown a little longer since the gang got back from Colter, you had even wondered if he'd let you trim it for him once it grew out a bit more. Soon, you met in the middle of the dirt road and stopped your horses.

"Hey there, Y/N." Arthur moved a hand to rest across the saddle horn, "You find enough time to sneak away again?"

You smiled as you nodded, "Thankfully," you looked in the direction of camp, "You headin' back to camp?" Arthur looked toward camp and then back at you, nodding his head. "Yeah, a bowl of Pearsons stew for lunch would be better than nothin', I guess."

You couldn't help but grimace. "Yeah..."

There was a short silence between the both of you, you didn't want to end your ride just yet but you also didn't want to pass up an opportunity to ride back to camp with Arthur. You suddenly had an idea and spoke before you even realized it. "Wanna race back to camp?"

Arthur laughed as he looked down at his horse, you watched as his head dipped and his hat covered his eyes slightly. "No, we've done enough runnin' around for today."

"I guess you're just too worried about losin'." You teased. Leaning forward, you urged your horse into a walk and turned, slowly starting down the road. It was then that you suddenly saw Arthurs horse dart past you, already moving in a fast canter. You grinned as you lifted your reins and wrapped your legs around your horse, quickly speeding up. As you galloped down the short stretch of main road, you attempted to get your horse to catch up until Arthur quickly turned down one of the many paths leading to Horseshoe Overlook. You finally turned the corner and saw Arthur already slowing down at the hitching rails.

Slowing your horse, you looked down as you patted her neck and praised her. Arthur dismounted and turned to praise his own horse. Bringing a hand up to pet his horses face, he turned his head toward you, "You said I was too worried about what?" He asked playfully.

You dismounted your horse and tied her to the hitching rail before moving to loosen her saddle. "She's got shorter legs, it wasn't a fair race!" You laughed while you gestured to your horses legs. Arthur smiled, "No, it was plenty fair." You shook your head, "Nope."

The two of you were too busy bantering to notice the small audience you had attracted. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen were sitting nearby and listening to your conversation. "That is definitely flirtin'." Karen observed, speaking just low enough to make sure that you and Arthur couldn't hear her. Tilly and Mary-Beth nodded in agreement. "Do you think either of them even realize it?" Mary-Beth asked and Tilly just sighed, "Probably not."

They watched as Arthur stood with you, still talking about the horses and your short race until your horse was untacked and put back to eat some hay. Mary-Beth hummed, "I don't believe I've ever seen Arthur look so happy." The other ladies agreed as they saw you and Arthur walk over to the stew pot together and each dip a bowl before sitting at the table together, proceeding to eat across from each other.

A few minutes had passed and Sean walked up to the table. The ladies noticed and groaned as they watched. Karen soon turned away, refusing to even look in that direction.

You and Arthur turned your heads to look up at Sean and the ladies listened as Sean loudly commented on the both of you. "You've got to be kiddin' me. You ride up here together and come sit here together to eat lunch but still refuse to admit your feelings to one another?"

Both you and Arthur were in shock. You noticed Arthurs cheeks turned a bright pink but you ignored it, instead turning your full attention to Sean, "Can you please go bother someone else?" Arthur cut his eyes at Sean, "I jus' helped save you and this is how you act? You think I won't turn you back in myself?"

Sean raised his hands in defense, "I'm just sayin' what we're all thinkin'!" You and Arthur just looked at him and shook your heads. You then looked down at the empty bowl on the table in front of you, silently thankful that you had a reason to leave the uncomfortable situation, and got up from your seat. "Excuse me."

Arthur remained sitting, his eyes moving from Sean to you as he watched you walk to put the bowl away and then move on to go back your work. Sean was silent before he was called away, wasting no time in leaving from the table.

Being the only one left at the table, Arthur sighed as he stood up and attempted to just resume where he left off with his work.

The ladies who watched the whole situation unfold kept their eyes on you as you walked over to them.  You noticed the looks on their faces and sighed, "Don't say anything."

"Weren't going to." Karen responded, lying straight through her teeth. Tilly and Mary-Beth sat silently and watched as you grabbed a cloth and prepared to clean some dirty dishes.

They each waited, expecting you to say something, but after a moment of silence, they all slowly parted ways to resume their own chores.

You looked up from the dish you were beginning to scrub for just a moment and saw Arthur mounting his horse to leave camp again. You watched as he leaned over the horn to pat the horses neck and then sat back up, looking over at you. You made eye contact before you quickly looked back down at the dish in your hand and continued scrubbing.

Arthur sighed as he looked back ahead of him, urging his horse into a walk and leaving camp.

[earlgreydream]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞. || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫!𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

@earlgreydream x @little-diable

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒𝐭𝐡! 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧. 𝐖𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

She tried to pay attention to Professor Kylo Ren, though her efforts weren’t doing much good. The seminar was coming up on three hours, the classroom air was stuffy, and a fluorescent lightbulb flickered overhead. It was already dark outside, the blackness in the windows reflecting back the image of an irritable professor and disinterested grad students. 

The lecture that droned on bored Y/N, the professor’s gorgeous appearance far more captivating than any medieval history lesson he insisted on dragging out. It wasn’t that he was a bad professor, it was that he seemed to hate her, and she seemed to hate him all the same. The handsome man was stern, demanding perfection in a way that nobody could ever live up to. His punishing scowl was even more famous in the university than he himself, one she was all too familiar with. 

“Do you have anything to add, Miss Y/N?” The sound of your name on Kylo’s lips snapped her back into reality, her lips parting in a frustrated huff. 

“Only that I think this lecture is worse than the black death,” you snarked, earning a few shocked giggles from her peers that would never dare disrespect Professor Ren. 

Kylo crossed his arms over his broad chest, leaning back against the edge of his desk, a dark glare locked on the student that he loathed. A sharp bolt of electricity shot through his nerves at the sight of Y/N’s smirk, making him even angrier. He forced himself not to think about how he truly desired to correct your disrespect, to force you into submission. 

“Quite pleased with yourself, are you? Everyone is dismissed except Y/N,” he barked, students immediately rushing out of the suffocating classroom. 

“I have places to be, professor,” Y/N stood, slipping her laptop into her bag, ignoring his order to stay behind. 

“Why do you have to have such a fucking attitude with me?” Kylo snapped, fed up with being dismissed. 

“Why do you have to be such a —” 

“Kylo, are you able to discuss the findings for our upcoming conference?” Professor Djarin called from the doorway, interrupting the two’s brewing argument. 

Kylo cleared his throat, standing up straight off of the desk and giving Y/N one last scathing glare. 

“Of course, let’s head to my office.”

“Goodnight, Professor Ren,” Y/N spoke, her sweet voice dripping with poison as she swept past him.

. 

Ever since she had left the classroom behind, Y/N hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her professor. Stars, she hated him, he was undoubtedly the worst of them all, and yet something about him pulled her in. Something she cursed whenever she noticed her wandering thoughts. 

With a groan, she plopped down on her bed, eyes closed to try and work through her thoughts. She detested him, hated him more than words could ever express, but maker, he was handsome. Even Y/N could admit that much.

Perhaps she had even touched herself to the thought of him once or twice before - okay, a lot more than that. But a few wandering thoughts didn’t seem to hurt, and most importantly they didn’t stop her hatred from spiralling. And hatred is what she needed to survive his boring course and the homework he didn’t even seem to correct.

She reached for her phone, staring at the screen while hitting up one of her friends, desperate for some kind of distraction. Perhaps some clubbing could force her thoughts to let go of the annoying professor, or even a house party where she could link up with those she hadn’t seen in a few weeks.

It only took her friend a few minutes to reply and to send her the details of their meeting spot. Y/N couldn’t stop her grin from widening as she rose to her feet once again, leaving the comfort of her bed to find something good to wear. Her fingertips stroked along a few dresses and skirts until she settled on an outfit she had worn in class a few weeks ago.

Back then Professor Ren had murmured something about the inappropriateness of her clothes, which seemed to be exactly what she needed. Her eyes studied her reflection in the mirror as Y/N dressed herself and retouched her makeup, filled by an all too familiar giddiness she didn’t want to shake until enough alcohol could loosen up her system.

The chilly air wrapped itself around her as she left her home and made her way towards the home where she’d meet her friend. 

.

Y/N was barely ten steps in the house before her best friend was putting a shot in her hand. The pink whitney burned going down, but at this point she’d drink almost anything to shake the frustration of her graduate class. 

“Another?” A shooter was held out, dangling from a girl’s hand, calling to her like siren. 

“Fuck it,” Y/N cheered before swallowing. 

Bad pop music from the 2010’s was blaring from someone’s speaker as five already tipsy girls all tried to fix their hair in the bathroom mirror. Someone had shouted that the uber would arrive in three minutes to escort the group downtown, where they’d crawl from club to bar until nobody could stand. 

Y/N didn’t have anything to lose — Professor Ren’s class had already been cancelled in the morning, likely him throwing a tantrum at her attitude. That left a night of debauchery on the table with nowhere to drag a hungover body to in the a.m.

She hardly remembered getting downstairs, registering that she was squeezed into the back of an uber with her friends, taking a short hit off of someone’s vape being passed around the party. 

“That was bad ass of you in class today, Y/N!” One of Professor Ren’s haters called over the music. 

“Yeah! He looked like he wanted to choke you!” Another chimed in innocently. 

Though the words were just an expression, it twisted Y/N’s stomach into a knot. The image of Kylo’s hand around her throat left her shifting in her seat, suddenly far too warm in the skimpy dress that squeezed her figure. 

A couple sips from a flask in the club’s queue, and Y/N was all too emboldened by the alcohol to think straight. She awkwardly made her way down a flight of stairs in an alley, into the club that was pulsing with blue and purple lights. The bass throbbed in her body, jarring her skeleton with every unsteady step. 

As much as she had hoped that her drunk mind could distract her from Kylo and her wandering thoughts, they only seemed to grow more intense with every passing minute. She needed a breather, desperate for some cold air to be sucked into her aching lungs. Y/N pushed through the body of dancing people, barely able to see where her feet were taking her until she finally managed to step out into the cold. 

Her body took her a few more steps away from the loud music before she sat down on the sidewalk, knees pressed to her chest. Deep breaths were inhaled into her shaking body, hands pressed to her warm cheeks to try and ground herself. 

Perhaps she needed to get home, set on sleeping the day away until her hangover would be awful enough to curse herself out. Perhaps she needed a few calmer moments to shake all the confusing thoughts and the hatred that seemed to wander up her throat like bile rising. 

“Miss Y/N?” She froze, eyes squeezed shut for a second. And then all too slowly she managed to look up at him. Kylo was towering over her, hands pushed into the pockets of his jacket, height all too towering. 

“Fuck me.” 

Kylo scoffed at the profane greeting, no more happy to see her than she was to see him. Y/N put her hand out, trying to balance to pull herself to her feet, only making it halfway up before falling back down on the hard concrete sidewalk.

“Jesus Christ, you’re messy,” Kylo sighed, reaching down and gripping her forearms, pulling her to her feet. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Y/N sneered, putting her hands on his chest — intending to shove him off, though the second her palms were pressed to the strong muscles, her body forgot that this was the man she hated.

“Getting a drink after how much shit you put me through,” he shot back, going to let go until she started to wobble in her heels. 

“You… you can’t get away from me. You’re here because you want to fuck me, you creep.”

Kylo knew it was the drunk ramblings of an angry student, but the words were vicious, creeping their way down his spine. He hated the satisfied smirk on her face, knowing that the stupid words had gotten under his skin. 

“You’re the one who hasn’t taken your hands off of my chest,” Kylo’s voice was low, his dark eyes boring into her as if he could read every filthy thought, see every memory of her touching herself to the thought of him. 

She was too far gone to react to his bickering, eyes getting lost in his darkening ones. Y/N hated the power he held over her, how he managed to draw her in with one simple glance that only fuelled the hatred she felt. 

“Fuck, look at you, you can barely stand straight. How are you getting home?” It seemed to do the trick, successfully pulling her out of her trance and away from him. She stumbled a step back, struggling to hold her balance as his hands shot forward to stabilise her.

“That’s none of your concern, Professor.” He rolled his eyes at the tremble of her voice, staring down at her for a few more seconds before letting go of a sigh. Without speaking a warning, he picked her up to throw her over his shoulder.

Y/N screeched but he didn’t seem to care about her protest as he kept walking. He didn’t even reply to the question of where he was taking her, all he did was walk until he came to a halt in front of a black SUV, open the door and gently though urgently placing her down on the seat.  

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” He started the car seconds later, letting the child safety locks snap in place before she could even think of ripping the door open again. Kylo kept quiet for a moment, he pulled out of his parking space and began driving down the dark road, letting darkness swallow them both wholly. 

“I’m taking you back to mine, I mean, look at you, such an embarrassment.” Heat flushed through her body at his biting tone, making her tremble in anger. But she kept quiet, having to sort through her thoughts as he kept driving. What was she even doing? The man she had tried to escape from was the knight in shining armour now. What a fuck up. 

Only as Kylo parked the car in front of a modern house did she snap out of her trance. Wordlessly she undid her seatbelt and watched him round the car to help her step out into the cold night. 

Kylo opened the door, waiting for Y/N to step out of the SUV of her own volition. 

“Come on, it’s fucking cold out here!” He snapped impatiently, hauling her out himself, tired of her defiant stare. 

She stopped screeching for a moment to take in the massive modern castle — double height ceilings making way for elaborate pieces of artwork and sculpture, just as dark and mysterious as him. Y/N was set down so he could lock the door behind him, taking the opportunity to rip the heels off of her feet. She tossed them drunkenly beside the door, not caring where they ended up, earning yet another curse from her knight. 

“This is your house?” She questioned, stumbling forward, inviting herself to explore. 

“Obviously.”

Kylo watched her, hair falling out of the ties to frame her face, normally fiery eyes slightly glazed over from the alcohol. She was such a force in the classroom, a viper daring him to come closer, waiting for the opportunity to strike and poison. But here, in his home in the middle of the night, she was harmless, pathetic, even as she swayed as if the earth meant to swallow her up. 

He’d followed her into the kitchen, something straight out of a Food Network set. She leaned against the marble island, dropping her phone onto the surface. Kylo was on her in an instant, his body towering over hers, hands on both sides, trapping his prey. 

She looked up, staring at him for a terribly long moment before her hand threaded into his black hair, dragging him down into a messy, angry, desperate kiss. Every nerve in Kylo’s body woke, reacting to her touch, the feel of her lips against his, and the taste of whiskey on her tongue. 

“Fuck,” Y/N gasped softly, breaking away as he grabbed her waist to lift her onto the countertop. 

Her dress rode up around her hips, knees parting to make room for Kylo as he dragged her back to him, gripping her throat with his large hand. 

“You need to learn your place and stop fucking embarrassing yourself,” he hissed, his teeth sharp against the crest of her ear. 

She grabbed his free hand, bringing it to the flimsy panties she wore, letting him feel what the brief encounter had already done to her. 

“I think you like seeing me like that, professor.” Her teasing words made him groan against her lips, only deepening the kiss. For a moment, nothing but his wander touch mattered, fuelled by their tension and need for one another. Big, cold fingers pushed her panties aside to brush them through her slit, covering her pulsing bundle of nerves with her arousal. 

“You’re a fucking slut, you know that? Whoring yourself out to a professor whose life you keep making miserable.” A cry tore through Y/N as he pushed a finger into her, letting her walls spread around him. She trembled, she cried, she was ready to let go even as he kept mumbling degrading words. 

It was pathetic almost with how close she was to letting go already, but his touch gave her something she had been aching for ever since meeting him. She didn’t even care if he could tell what he was doing to her, all she wanted to focus on was the orgasm clashing through her without another warning.

Y/N choked on her cry, head rolling forward to rest against his broad chest. Kylo kept moving his fingers, prolonging the sensation for a few more seconds before finally pulling away from her, “So, what will it be? If you want me to fuck you, you’ll need to beg for it.”  

Something between a scream and a groan escaped Y/Ns lips. Kylo wasn’t about to give her anything without humiliating her first, to make this as painful as possible. Under normal circumstances, she’d leave, but now, her cunt aching and desperate, she would do anything for relief. 

“Please fuck me, I need you,” Y/N whined, looking up at Kylo with wide eyes.

“What are you?” His lips almost pulled into a smile, pleased with himself as he studied the dark patch that was only growing on her panties. 

“I’m a fucking slut, and I want you to fuck me,” she forced out the words, tears threatening to spill from her lashes. 

“That’s right. This is for my pleasure, not yours!”

In an instant, Kylo dragged her off the countertop before flipping her around to face away. He bent Y/N over the cold marble, pushing her head down and the fabric out of the way. 

“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked. You have no shame, do you?” 

When she tried to speak, he shoved two of his fingers in her mouth, silencing any protest. Hatred burned almost as bright as the lust she’d become enslaved to. It took everything — her dignity, her sense of self — until she was being railed over the counter in her enemy’s kitchen. 

Kylo’s hand muffled her scream as he fucked into her sopping entrance, her walls stretching to accommodate his size, dragging along every vein. Y/N’s eyes rolled back into her head, fingers clawing helplessly at the marble as he hit the spot inside that left her seeing stars. Every thought fractured into pieces, leaving nothing but the overwhelming sensation of pleasure as Kylo bruises her hips against the stone. 

“Kylo, fuck!” Y/N yelled as he brought his hands down to her waist, gripping the soft flesh in his fingers, pulling her body back to meet his, forcing himself impossibly deeper. 

“Such a slut for me. I like you much better like this than running your mouth and being a brat.” He emphasized the last word by slapping her ass, leaving a handprint that would remind her of her shame for days.  

She wanted to speak up, wanted to throw the mean words right back at him, but she couldn’t. No longer did she remember the simplest words, mind only focused on the feeling of taking his cock. He kept impaling her on him, ripping her apart with every thrust that only grew rougher and faster. 

“Please,” it was the only thing she could whimper, hating that her body was giving into his every command. He had won the upper hand, had forced her to kneel for him as he took what he was aching for - again and again. 

“Please what? What is it that you want, huh?” Darkness wrapped itself around her as Y/N pressed her eyes shut. Perhaps she’d finally find the strength to say something, to push back with the same spite he seemed to master. But she couldn’t, fuelled by shame, defeat, and a burning hot lust. 

“Let me cum, fuck, please.” Her orgasm was about to rip through her, making tears well up in her eyes. Kylo kept quiet, he only let go of an excited hum the second his big hand found her throat, cutting off most of her airstream. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, focusing on the big window that offered a reflection of their linked up bodies.

It was a sight so sinful, she couldn’t help but let go. Kylo kept fucking into her from behind, pushing her through her intense orgasm to get his own fill. 

Tears were streaked down her face, her body shuddering with shocks of overstimulation. The reflection in the glass was pathetic, fingers weakly clawing at the counter, trying to escape the man who was pumping her full of his seed until it was leaking down her thighs. Kylo’s hand was still heavy on her throat, even as he finally pulled out of her, watching his mess drip from her.

“Kylo,” she finally gasped out when his hand was off her neck, struggling to push herself up on her elbows.

He ignored the way she whimpered his name, pulling his black boxers up and lighting a cigarette. He leaned back against the opposite counter, watching as she tried to collect herself, forced to soak in the filth of her lust. To Kylo, she’d never looked better — eyes red and wet, legs trembling, and her smart mouth finally shut.

“Look at yourself,” he shook his head slowly before taking a long drag. 

Y/N pulled her dress down and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, trying to save the last glimpse of her dignity. It was exposing, being under the hard stare of his brown eyes, his cock still half hard and feeling his cum smearing between her legs. 

“Not running your mouth for once,” he mocked when she didn’t answer, wordlessly turning to the dark window. “The bathroom is down the hallway, clean yourself up before you leave, will you?”

Her breath hitched in her chest, wide eyes snapping back to his as if she didn’t believe the words he’d just spoken. But Kylo didn’t say another word, didn’t even offer her another glance as he poured himself a glass of water and then disappeared from her sight. 

Trembling legs forced her to move, to find the dark bathroom. Y/N couldn’t look at her reflection as tears blurred her vision once again, feeling even more humiliated and angry than before. Of course he wouldn’t ask her to stay. Of course he wouldn’t drop their fight just once to make her feel somewhat comfortable after offering herself to him. Of course he was still the asshole she’d once sworn to hate.

Slowly, she stepped back into the quiet hallway. Her eyes moved along the walls for a second, giving him another second to reappear and to pull her back towards him. But he didn’t, he left her alone and confused as her aching body finally carried her out into the night. 

[satanslovergirl]

= ° ᛫ ᛫ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ᛫ ᛫ ° =

“Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it.”

NEW SERIES

<3 Part one <3

PAIRING: Castiel x Female Reader (She/Her)

TONE: Slow Burn | Angel x Human | Protector!Cas | Awkward!Cas | Hesitant Love | Aloof Lovers

WRITTEN BY: Little Devil ♡

RATING: M (Strong Language, Canon Supernatural Themes, Slight Intimacy)

WORD COUNT: 6,287

BASED ON: Supernatural Season 5, Episodes 1–5

SYNOPSIS:

She was just supposed to keep him company while the boys were out. But Castiel is not what she expected. He's not just Heaven's soldier—he's something softer, something unraveling. And as the fire crackles and the silence stretches, the lines between loyalty, trust, and something far more dangerous begin to blur.

CHAPTER ONE: THE ANGEL AND THE STRANGER

Bobby Singer’s junkyard was a graveyard of stories—rusted-out cars, forgotten parts, shattered glass catching the late sun like dying embers. A place where things went to rot or be reborn. That always depended on who showed up first—Dean with his toolbox, or Sam with his research.

Y/N sat on the porch steps, rifle balanced across her lap, fingers idly stroking the worn leather strap. Dean and Sam had left early in the afternoon, off to barter with a witch for ritual supplies—holy oil, lamb’s blood, powdered snake vertebrae—ingredients for a spell they hoped would track down the next breadcrumb in this apocalyptic scavenger hunt.

She’d volunteered to stay behind, partly because Bobby’s knees were shot and someone needed to mind the fort. Mostly because the angel made her nervous.

Well—maybe not nervous.

Unsettled.

Castiel stood near the edge of the yard now, trench coat flapping slightly in the breeze like a flag refusing to lower. His back was straight, hands in his pockets, gaze trained far beyond the fence line. Watching. Waiting. For what, she couldn’t say.

The thing was, she knew angels weren’t supposed to look like that. Not distracted. Not... lonely.

“So,” she called out, voice breaking the quiet like a flicked match. “You always stand like a weird, holy gargoyle or is today special?”

He turned. Slowly. Mechanical. Like a clock finding north.

“I am keeping watch.”

“From what?” she asked, tilting her head. “Bobby’s lawn mower?”

He blinked. “From demonic interference. The veil is thinner now. Lucifer’s presence is... distorting things.”

Her smile faded slightly. “Right.”

Lucifer. Still felt surreal saying the name out loud.

She patted the step beside her. “Well, since we’re both waiting for the end of the world, you might as well sit.”

Another blink. Then, after a pause so long she almost took it back, he obeyed. He sat, stiffly, like he was afraid to break the porch with celestial weight.

He smelled faintly of ozone and earth. And something older, unnamable.

“You don’t talk much,” she observed.

“There is little to say,” Castiel replied, eyes still scanning the horizon. “Lucifer walks free. The seals are broken. Heaven is in disarray. Words seem... insufficient.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” she muttered, taking a swig from her beer. “Sure you’re not just bad at small talk?”

His eyes shifted to her. “Is that a skill of importance?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Depends who you’re talking to.”

He tilted his head. She could see him processing that, gears turning behind those too-blue eyes. “Dean trusts you,” he said finally. “That suggests reliability.”

“Damn right he does,” she replied, though there was no smugness in her tone. “But Dean also once trusted a guy named Gordon Walker, so forgive me if I don’t take your word at face value just yet.”

Castiel regarded her carefully. “You do not trust me.”

“Not yet,” she said evenly. “I’ve met demons who smiled nicer than you. And last I checked, you angels aren’t exactly batting a thousand.”

There was no offense taken. Only stillness.

“That is fair,” he said after a moment. “Most of my brothers have strayed. I... am trying not to.”

That caught her attention.

“You’re not like them?”

“I don’t know what I am anymore,” Castiel admitted, looking down at his hands. “I disobeyed Heaven. I raised Dean from Hell. I serve no commander now.”

“Then what are you doing here?” she asked. “Why stick with them?”

“I believe in Dean Winchester,” he said simply.

“And Sam?”

His jaw tightened. “I worry for Sam.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “So does everyone else. Doesn’t make you special.”

He nodded. “No. But it does make me... invested.”

She didn’t reply right away. The fireflies were starting to flicker in the tall grass, casting brief halos in the dark.

“You ever think maybe God’s just not showing up?” she asked finally, voice quieter now. “Maybe he’s left the building. Maybe it’s just us now.”

“I do not know where God is,” Castiel said softly. “But I still have hope.”

“That makes one of us,” she muttered, then sighed. “Sorry. That was rude.”

“It was honest.”

= ° ✓° =

Later, inside Bobby’s cluttered kitchen, she grabbed two beers from the fridge, popped the caps with a flick of her knife, and headed back to the porch.

She held one out to him.

“I do not drink,” he said automatically.

She rolled her eyes. “You say that like it’s a commandment.”

He hesitated. Then took the bottle like it might bite him.

She watched him take a sip, then promptly wince.

“I dislike this.”

“Atta boy,” she grinned.

He looked at her, confused. “Is that praise?”

“Yeah,” she smirked. “Kind of. You’re learning.”

He glanced at the bottle again like it had betrayed him.

“I don’t understand why Dean enjoys this.”

“Because it numbs things,” she said, quieter now. “Makes the end of the world a little less sharp around the edges.”

He frowned. “You’re afraid.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“I am... uncertain. That is not the same.”

She looked at him then, really looked. “Why are you so invested in the Winchesters? I mean, I get that they’re important or whatever, but... why Dean?”

“Because he refuses to give up,” Castiel said, without hesitation. “Even when it would be easier. He carries more pain than most, and yet he continues.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at that. “Yeah,” she whispered. “He does.”

He studied her. “You care deeply for them.”

“They’re my family.”

“I won’t let them fall,” he said. “Even if Heaven turns against them.”

There was something in his voice then. Steel, yes. But something like vulnerability too. A thread unraveling.

She didn’t know what made her do it—maybe the beer, maybe the firelight, maybe the soft ache in her chest—but she nudged his boot with hers, playful.

“You always this intense or is it just me?”

He looked down at their boots. At the contact.

“I don’t understand the question.”

She smiled. “That’s okay. You’ll catch up.”

He looked at her with something like wonder. “I would like to.”

= ° ✓° =

The living room was quiet later, except for the crackle of the fire and the gentle ticking of the old clock above Bobby’s mantle. She sat wrapped in a quilt, legs tucked beneath her on the couch. Castiel remained in the armchair across from her, rigid but... less so now.

“You’re not cold?” she asked.

“No.”

“Right. Angel thing.”

He watched the flames. “You are.”

“Maybe a little.”

Silence.

Then, hesitantly, he stood and crossed the space between them. He stopped short of the couch, gaze flicking toward the blanket.

“I could... generate warmth,” he offered awkwardly. “It’s within my abilities.”

She blinked, surprised. “That’s okay. I’ve got the fire.”

He nodded, clearly uncertain what to do with himself.

“Cas,” she said gently, “you don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”

Their eyes met again.

And something passed between them—not heat, not yet. But gravity. A pull. Like the stars just barely beginning to shift.

= ° ᛫ ᛫ ᛫ =

TO BE CONTINUED...

= \ THE FALL ISN’T ALWAYS A DEFEAT™ // =

[bigmusclenm]

Daily Dose of Magic - Prologue

[Story Collection] | [●] [Part 1🔵]

Blaine’s home was quiet the night before he had to leave for college. His mom had gone to bed earlier, leaving him alone with his thoughts in his room. Boxes and bags surrounded him, everything properly packed to start this new journey. He was 19 years old; he felt ready to start college, but he couldn’t help but sigh as nostalgia washed over him, thinking about his home, childhood memories, his mom, and his late dad.

He had always been close to his mother, especially because his father passed away before he was even a year old. The man had been a mystery for Blaine, a figure of stories and photographs his mom had shared through the years. But he had always been curious about his father’s background. Now that Blaine was ready to step into another level in life, curiosity over his father’s story flooded his mind.

He sat on his bed and looked around, realizing that among the boxes and bags, he didn’t have anything that could remind him of his dad while he was away. Blaine slowly stood up as a thought occurred to him: he had to take something of his dad’s with him to college, something that would make him feel connected to the man he never had the chance to know. This idea led him to the attic, where he knew his mom had saved most of his dad’s stuff.

The wooden stairs cracked under Blaine’s weight as he ascended into the attic. He pushed open the old wooden door, which let out a low groan, revealing a space filled with dust, cobwebs, and boxes that hadn’t been touched in years. Blaine immediately smelled the scent of aged wood and musty cardboard; a faint beam of moonlight streamed through a small, round window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

Blaine stood at the door for a while, adjusting to the low light as a dim bulb swung from the ceiling, casting long shadows on the wall and illuminating his body. He was tall and lean, standing at 6’1” and weighing around 165 pounds, with a build that was more wiry than muscular. His light blonde hair, perpetually messy, fell into his bright blue eyes, giving him an almost boyish look. He wore a loose t-shirt that hung off his lean frame and a pair of faded jeans. He looked every bit like a college-bound student, nervous about the future.

He stepped into the attic, the floorboards groaning under his weight, and began sifting through the boxes, each labeled with a scribbled word or two, though the ink had faded with time. One box, in particular, caught his attention. It was a plain, unmarked box shoved into the corner of the attic. It looked older than the rest, so Blaine carefully pulled it out, setting it on the floor in the middle of the room.

His fingers slightly trembled as he opened it, half-expecting to find nothing of interest. Inside it, Blaine found old documents, faded with age, many of which seemed to belong to his father, but nothing felt personal. He shuffled through the papers, somewhat disappointed, hoping to find a photograph, a note, anything that could connect him to his father. He was about to give up, but at the bottom of the box, something unusual caught his eye—a book. The cover, made of thick, weathered leather, had strange symbols and letters Blaine couldn’t recognize. The symbols were unfamiliar, almost alien. The letters were written in an ancient script as if the book had existed for centuries.

Blaine’s fingers traced the cover, feeling the worn leather beneath his fingertips. A shiver ran down his spine as he carefully lifted the book out of the box, feeling its weight in his hands. Blaine opened it, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw a neat, flowing handwritten name in faded ink at the top of the first page: “Blaine Morain.” His father’s name. His name.

This book was the connection he had been looking for. He felt it. Without thinking, Blaine read the name, his voice barely a whisper. “Blaine Morain,” he said, and as the last syllable left his lips, a strange sensation washed over him, and another shiver ran down his spine. A sudden jolt of mild electricity coursed through his hands and arms, making him gasp. The book slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud as Blaine stared at his hands in shock. His fingertips were glowing red, the light pulsing softly as if in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Blaine stood there, frozen, his eyes moving from his hands to the book lying on the floor, the pages faintly illuminated by the red glow from his fingertips. The bright hue gradually faded, his mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. He contemplated leaving the book there, pretending this had never happened. But something inside him urged him to pick it up. Blaine leaned down, his hands trembling as he retrieved the book, clutching it to his chest as he hurried out of the attic.

Once safely back in his room, Blaine shut the door behind him and sat on his bed, the book resting on his lap. He carefully opened the book again to inspect its contents. Strange symbols filled the pages, but as Blaine stared at them, they began to make sense. The language was old, but Blaine realized now he could understand it.

Blaine turned to the second page and found a family tree intricately drawn with elegant lines and flowing branches. His eyes scanned the names. His father’s name was there, and to Blaine’s astonishment, so was his own. The family tree extended back generations, all the way to the medieval era, each name accompanied by a title: Wizard. Blaine felt a shiver run down his spine as the realization dawned on him—he came from a line of wizards.

Turning the pages, he found what seemed to be spells, each accompanied by a detailed description. His hands trembled as he flipped through the pages. The more he read, the more he realized that the book was a manual, a guide to the magical abilities that had passed down through his family. There were spells for protection, spells for healing, and spells to manipulate elements, but what caught his attention was a whole section for spells specifically designed to make body parts grow.

One particular spell caught his eye from this section. His lips curled into a chuckle as he read a handwritten note from his dad in the margin: “Bigger balls, not a good idea.” Blaine couldn’t help but laugh, imagining his dad experimenting with this spell in his younger years. He grinned, the note feeling more like an invitation than a warning.

“Cnámh Rogha Mór,” Blaine read aloud from the book, immediately feeling a tingling sensation course through his body. His fingertips glowed red once more as he glanced down at his lap to see his bulge slowly inflating. The sensation was strange, almost pleasurable, and he couldn’t help but watch in awe as his jeans grew tighter, the fabric straining to accommodate the growing mass. His mouth was open in disbelief as the tightness grew more intense, his balls quickly reaching baseball-sized proportions.

He marveled as his balls grew, but after a few seconds, the reality of what he was doing hit him, and panic surged through him as he groaned in discomfort. With a sharp intake of breath, he slammed the book shut, the glowing in his finger ceasing immediately. He looked down at his ready-to-burst bulge, and, to his relief, the growth stopped, and his balls shrank back to their average size. He sat on the edge of his bed, his heart pounding and his breathing short. The sensation of his balls growing so fast had been fantastic, so he couldn’t help but smile, thinking about the possibilities.

****

Blaine arrived at college the following day, the spellbook safely tucked away in his backpack. He had spent most of the journey reading through its pages, memorizing several spells. Now, he wandered through the bustling yard of the prestigious institution he had worked so hard to get into. The campus was alive with activity—students moving in, greeting old friends, or meeting new ones. His blue eyes darted around, taking it all in. Blaine couldn’t believe he was here, about to start a new chapter.

Blaine was lost in his thoughts as he walked toward the dormitory, his mind replaying the previous night’s events. But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he collided with something—or someone—solid and unyielding. The impact sent Blaine sprawling to the ground, his backpack flying off his shoulder and the box in his hand landing beside him on the grass.

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you coming!” A deep, concerned voice exclaimed.

Blaine looked up, his vision slightly blurred from the fall, to see a hand extended toward him, attached to a thick, muscular arm. His eyes followed the arm up to a broad chest covered in a tight-fitting red T-shirt that did little to hide the impressive musculature beneath. The guy was big, with a physique that would make any athlete jealous. Blaine marveled at the sight, his eyes traveling to meet the stranger’s face.

The owner of the voice crouched down, offering a hand to help him up. Blaine took the offered hand, allowing the stranger to help him to his feet. As he stood up, their eyes met, and Blaine gasped at the most handsome face he had seen. The guy had dark, curly hair, neatly trimmed on the sides and left longer on top. His olive-green eyes were warm and expressive, and his smile was nothing short of breathtaking.

Blaine took a deep breath as he took in the stranger’s appearance. The guy was an inch shorter than Blaine but far broader, probably weighing around 220 pounds of pure muscle. His T-shirt and jeans strained against his impressive physique. And as the big guy leaned to the side to pick Blaine’s backpack up, Blaine couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of the thickest, roundest, and most perfect butt he had ever seen, accentuated by the tight denim he wore.

“So, are you okay?” the stranger asked again while Blaine was too stunned to speak. “I’m so sorry for knocking you over. Sometimes it’s hard to control all of this,” the big guy added, gesturing to his muscular body, making Blaine gasp.

“It’s-it’s okay. I should’ve been watching where I was going,” Blaine finally said, his voice softer than intended.

The guy’s smile widened, a dimple appearing on his left cheek—another touch that made Blaine gasp. “Still, I should’ve been more careful. It’s totally my fault. First-day fitters, I guess. I’m Bryon Callahan. Freshman,” Bryon said, extending his hand to greet Blaine.

“Blaine, Blaine Morain. Freshman,” he replied, still somewhat dazed by Bryon’s presence as they shook hands.

“Nice to meet you, Blaine,” Bryon said, his smile weakening Blaine’s knees. “I’m still trying to figure out where everything is.”

“Same here,” Blaine admitted with a small laugh, trying to ease the nervousness he felt bubbling up inside him. “I’m trying to find the dorms.”

“Yeah. This place is huge, so we better continue,” Bryon said, handing Blaine’s backpack to him and lifting the box off the ground. “But maybe we can hang out later once we’ve settled in.”

Blaine’s expression changed, unable to hide his excitement. “Sure! I’d love that. It’s good to meet a new friend on the first day here,” he replied, smiling at Bryon.

With a final smile and a quick goodbye, they parted ways. But Blaine couldn’t resist turning around to catch one last glimpse of Bryon as they walked in opposite directions. To his surprise, Bryon had done the same, their eyes meeting across the yard, making them both blush. They quickly looked away as they continued walking to their dorms, but Blaine couldn’t help but sigh in awe. Bryon’s body and charming manners stuck in his head.

Lost in his thoughts, Blaine got lost and spent a few minutes trying to get on the right path again. When he finally found his dorm room a few minutes later, he noticed the door was already open. He stepped inside, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw Bryon standing there, unpacking his things.

“Hello?” Blaine said, blinking repeatedly to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Oh, hey. Room 304?” Bryon asked with a grin, and Blaine nodded. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other then.”

Blaine grinned broadly. “Seems like it. I guess we’ll be able to hang out very often.”

Blaine approached the unoccupied bed by the window while Bryon unpacked his stuff. The room was simple, but Bryon had already covered his side with posters of muscular football players and bodybuilders. Blaine observed the posters and grinned as he realized that Bryon had a thing for big muscles, having built his own body to look like the men on the posters.

“So, what’s your schedule like this semester?” Bryon asked, taking Blaine out of his trance.

“Oh, let me check,” Blaine said, looking into his backpack to pull out the schedule. He unfolded the paper and read through the list of classes. “That’s it. Sounds heavy, but I still have lots of free time.”

Bryon approached his schedule in hand to compare it with Blaine’s. “No way! Those are my classes, too! I’m taking all of those!”

Blaine looked at the schedules, smiling. “Really? All of them?”

Bryon nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, your schedule is like a copy of mine. So, we’ll spend lots of time together for the next few months.”

Blaine grinned. The coincidence—or was it fate?—of having the exact same schedule as his new roommate only made him feel more connected to Bryon. “Yeah! Looks like we’re going to see a lot of each other,” Blaine said, his tone playful.

“Yeah, I hope you won’t get sick of me,” Bryon replied, and both laughed.

Blaine found himself feeling more comfortable around Bryon as they continued unpacking, so he couldn’t help but occasionally glance over at the big guy. He couldn’t help but admire his roommate’s muscles rippling as he lifted his bags or boxes onto the bed or how his strong hands carefully arranged his stuff. He could barely continue his own work while he admired Bryon’s graceful movements on his side of the room.

Then, Blaine’s eyes widened when Bryon bent down to pick up a dropped item, showcasing the impressive size of his butt. The snug jeans Bryon wore accentuated the rounded curves of his ass, and Blaine’s mind wandered back to the spellbook now tucked in his bag. The spells he had read through earlier flashed through his mind, one, in particular, standing out: a spell designed to grow the ass.

A smile tugged at the corners of Blaine’s lips as he thought about using the spell on Bryon. He was itching to test his magic and the spells in the book, and Bryon seemed like the perfect, unsuspecting candidate. Blaine quietly sat on his bed as Bryon continued unpacking. He glanced over to make sure Bryon was distracted, then softly whispered, “Fás Tóna.”

Blaine’s fingertips glowed red, just like they had in the attic. His heart started beating faster as he watched Bryon’s ass begin to swell, the fabric of his jeans stretching to accommodate the new mass. Bryon didn’t notice at first and continued unpacking, talking about his high school football days, his focus still on the task at hand. But as the seconds passed, the tightness in his jeans became impossible to ignore. Bryon shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust his pants, but the more he fidgeted, the tighter they became.

Blaine’s eyes widened with excitement and certain disbelief as Bryon’s ass continued to inflate. The round globes of flesh gained more mass, pressing against the denim, now stretched to its limits. Then, Bryon finally stopped what he was doing, a confused expression crossing his face. He tugged at the waistband, trying to make more space for his ass, but the expansion didn’t stop as Blaine’s fingers still glowed.

“Man, what the—?” Bryon said, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to find relief from the tightness. He reached back, his hand brushing over his now nearly volleyball-sized ass cheeks, his expression turning from confusion to alarm as his pants were barely holding on.

Blaine could hardly breathe in shock and excitement, his dick stirring in his pants as his face stayed as neutral as possible. The sight of Bryon’s ass was absurd but so fascinating, and Blaine could barely process the implications. His magic was causing the growth. He could alter others’ bodies. He didn’t even blink as the realization sunk in, and Bryon’s once comfortable jeans were now painfully tight on him.

Then, a loud rip echoed through the room. Bryon froze, eyes wide open, as he realized what had happened. He twisted around, trying to look at the back of his jeans, where a long tear had appeared at the seam in the middle of his backside, the fabric unable to handle the size of his massive ass and exposing his bare butt since he was wearing a jockstrap. Bryon’s hand moved to his rounded butt, his hands shaking in disbelief at how much it had grown.

Blaine grinned, looking away as his fingers stopped glowing, quickly ending the spell. Bryon’s ass began to shrink to its original size before his shocked eyes. The tension in the fabric lessened, and Bryon let out a relieved sigh, though he still looked stunned.

“Did you see that?” Bryon asked as he turned to Blaine, who pretended to be busy with his own unpacking.

“What?” Blaine said, turning to face Bryon again and pretending to be surprised when he saw the tear in the big guy’s pants. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but...”

“No, no, no. My ass grew. It was inflating or something. I felt like my pants would burst and...” Bryon said, still trying to figure out what had just happened. He ran a hand over his backside, feeling the tear in his jeans with a perplexed frown.

“Well, they did. Maybe they shrunk in the wash?” Blaine suggested, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “Or maybe it’s time to upgrade pant size?” he added, innocently shrugging his shoulders.

“Hmm… Maybe,” Bryon replied, though he didn’t sound convinced. He glanced down at his jeans again, still puzzled, but eventually, he shook his head and decided to let it go. “I guess I’ll go easy on squats from now on,” he added, pulling one of his bags up to look for another pair of pants to replace the ruined ones.

As Bryon turned back to finish unpacking, Blaine silently celebrated his successful spell, the thrill of what he had just done making his chest inflate with pride. He could hardly wait to see what other things he could do with Bryon during the semester. The possibilities were endless, and this was only the beginning.

...

[braceletofteeth]

You have quite a good memory.

[gutsby]

Stubborn

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel sees your baby bump for the first time.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Breeding/Impreg Kink. Hurt/Comfort (mostly comfort). Mention of insecurities related to changes in Reader’s body from pregnancy (!!) Praise kink. Creampie. Girthy but unspecified age gap. Nothing bad happens to Joel Miller. He lives to 103 :)

Word count: 4.9k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

It had been a long week.

The one before that had seemed even longer. Joel Miller spent every night of it curled up on too-cold hardwood floors in remote cabins or in guard towers, on duty. He would’ve given anything to be someplace else, but as it stood, Jackson was on high alert for hordes of Infected. That meant he had had to contribute his fair share and go on extended patrol, no matter how loudly every last ligament, muscle, and bone in his old body protested.

Evidently, there was a dearth of strong and gun-savvy folks in town. No exceptions could be carved out for anyone among them—not even expecting fathers.

Today, Joel stood in a greenhouse, running off two hours of sleep. He’d made it back home that morning, but before he’d even slid off his boots you’d told him you were headed to the farmer’s market and you wouldn’t be gone more than twenty minutes at most, just stay here and get some sleep while I’m out, OK? Joel had refused.

“Already spent too much damn time away from you two,” he’d said grumpily, pressing a kiss to your temple before ushering you out the door. He caught you smile at that.

By ‘you two,’ Joel hadn’t needed to gesture to your belly and the life growing within it to explain what he meant. You both knew it—had been aware of this little world-altering development for weeks now—but no matter how much time had passed, neither one of you seemed quite capable of saying the words without a glance or a grin.

“Me and baby did just fine on our own these last nights,” you’d assured him teasingly as you walked along then. “In fact, I think he was glad not to hear all your snoring.”

Joel had almost chuckled through his latest yawn.

“Yeah? She tell you that herself while I was gone?”

He was convinced the baby was a girl.

You swore you were having a boy.

As Joel leaned against a display of sun-dried tomatoes and yawned extra big again, he decided it didn’t matter one bit what the gender was going to be. He just wanted to meet the kid. He hated that he would have to wait another six months to see their face and pinch their pudgy cheeks between his fingers, but that was a minuscule price to pay for what was to come in time.

Tiny feet. Bright eyes. Beaming, toothless smiles. Greedy hands that would no doubt be yanking at his silver hairs all hours of the day. He just hoped they’d take after y—

“Joel?”

Your eyes flickered to him in question. He hadn’t heard it.

“What’s’at, sweetheart?”

You furrowed your brows.

“I’m blanking on what Maria asked us to buy. Zucchini?”

Joel had no fucking idea.

A sea of fruits and vegetables lay out before him like a technicolor dream; he was so sleep-deprived it almost seemed surreal to see so much vibrancy at once, and he had to blink a couple of times to get his vision to adjust.

Then he was looking back at you. You were frowning.

“Baby, we can go home. You’re about to pass out.”

And Joel knew you meant it—despite only being at the market in town a grand total of five minutes, he knew you’d be willing to leave in a heartbeat if it meant giving him a moment’s worth of rest. It had been his own doing in bringing his drained, deadened, stubborn body here.

“I’m fine. Really, I’m good. You said, uh…cucumbers?”

“Zucchini.” You fended off his taut forced smile with a warning look of you own, as if to say: ‘You suck at lying.’

That look remained on him for a while and was only marginally diminished by a kiss he dropped on your forehead, followed by a promise to sleep the rest of the day. He didn’t like seeing you put off in the slightest, but if it meant getting to spend an extra half hour with you and Junior, Joel decided he was willing to bend the rules.

Fortunately, your scowl was even more short-lived than expected. The next second had you turning and, seeing something in a small wooden crate across the way, glowing with a bright, eager look. You walked over.

“Look—our baby!” you cried, peering into the box.

Joel was puzzled, but then you turned again and were suddenly holding a lemon up to your stomach, grinning.

“At thirteen weeks, the baby’s about the size of this.”

You balanced the thing proudly in your palm, just over your navel, and flashed him an irresistibly sweet smile. Joel smiled back, and was right about to squeeze the little fruit and tell you he couldn’t believe this kid was growing so fast, when a new voice cut in. It was some neighbor of yours. You turned to greet her, scarcely had a second to get through ‘hello’ before talks of an upcoming potluck were entered into, and before Joel knew it, he’d lost the opportunity to marvel your fruit fetus. He felt unusually dismayed at that but blamed it on burnout.

Why did he feel like he’d missed so much already?

It wasn’t like he could change the fact that this world you inhabited was overrun with the living undead, and he had to help defend this community against them, but still.

Joel was just about to yawn again and rub his bleary eyes when his gaze meandered somewhere else.

His yawn caught in his throat as soon as he saw it, and like before, he had to blink several times to clear the sight in front of him. This time, though, it wasn’t total exhaustion which clouded his vision—it was something more, snagged in his periphery at first, only to gain his full attention an instant later. Joel’s chest tightened.

Surely it wasn’t fatigue alone making him see this.

You’d tilted your body from him a little more while talking to your friend, and in your profile, Joel could make out an unfamiliar shape in your ensemble that he hadn’t noticed when you were holding the lemon: just under the swell of your breasts, beneath the apricot-colored material of your dress, he could see the faintest outline of a bump.

Joel stared harder, half-expecting that picture to fade like a mirage. He couldn’t believe the sight before him.

He’d seen you in fits and bursts over the last two weeks—he worked double shifts on patrol, so you were often asleep when he was home, and there were all the times he was forced to sleep at one of the far outposts, but no.

No.

Joel wouldn’t have missed something like that.

He couldn’t have missed the first glimpse of your growing belly when he’d gotten so…fixated on you, this baby, the thoughts of your future together as a family.

No, he shouldn’t have missed that. A good dad wouldn’t.

Hell, even a halfway decent father-to-be wouldn’t have not noticed the growth of his own child inside you. That seemed so rudimentary—how the fuck had he missed it?

Suddenly, a coil was forming in his stomach. Unlike the one in yours, it wasn’t a child but a pit of guilt growing there. He felt his legs weaken underneath him, and he swallowed dryly. He cleared his throat. He tried to cast a sideways look at you, maybe try and urge you to get on with this neighborly conversation and be done with it, but who was he to say anything now? Joel slumped against a table full of leafy greens and tried not to sulk.

He blinked and five minutes had passed, at least. His head was swimming with thoughts of shame and remorse, wanting to kick himself for agreeing to pick up shifts for his brother last week, and feeling like he’d failed you and your baby already—and they weren’t even born.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder again. Two bloodshot eyes darted to the left.

“Joel,” you said, softly. Your voice was full of sympathy.

The man couldn’t bear to hear it. He didn’t deserve it.

In fact, he felt so down on himself and dead tired now that he couldn’t muster up the strength to speak when you nudged him back onto his feet. You walked beside him with a basket that now contained three zucchini, two bulbs of garlic, a lemon, and a dozen other food items that he couldn’t place at the moment. Joel had no idea what you’d be cooking tonight, but he couldn’t help but wince at the sight of that tiny yellow fruit in front of him.

You knew this would be a long day.

Joel never slept well after those week-long stints going back and forth between patrol and home, and ever since taking Tommy’s as well while he was out sick, the man before you was drained of all his energy. Dead, almost.

Okay, maybe ‘dead’ was an overstatement.

Joel was very much alive; his body just sagged, his head lolled forward where he stood, and he refused to sleep.

It made no sense to you. It was like the longer he’d been awake, away from you, the more adamant he became that he couldn’t spare a minute while he was home dozing off. When you’d dragged his hulking body up the stairs to your bedroom, he shook his head in protest.

“I— I missed seeing her,” he mumbled dejectedly. Resisting your efforts to push him onto the bed.

“I know. You can talk as much as you’d like after you get some rest, OK? We’ll be right downstairs in the kitchen.”

That didn’t seem to appease Joel at all. If anything, he made an effort to shake his head harder and seemed ready to follow you back downstairs to help you cook.

You weren’t having any of that, so you nudged him back.

“Joel—”

“No, I missed it, honey. I missed it.”

He was talking nonsense now, surely.

“What do you mean? Missed what, Joel?”

With a deflated sort of sound, he collapsed on the bed behind him. Joel steadied himself wearily, blinking more.

Seeming as if he wanted to meet your gaze but couldn’t.

Then, to your surprise, he slid off of the bed and sank to the floor, on his knees. He shuffled closer to where you stood, and then slowly, sheepishly, peered up at you.

“I missed seeing this,” he clarified quietly.

And two hard, muscly arms wrapped around your lower half from where he kneeled. Joel’s face was mere inches from the fabric of your dress—where it flared the slightest bit out front and almost prodded at his nose.

Your little bump was protruding under your clothes now. It couldn’t be helped, no matter how loose of winter attire you wore, and you felt guilty that, at first, you hadn’t liked how it looked. Wasn’t motherhood supposed to be some exquisite, transcendent experience wherein every waking moment had you cherishing what your body did for you, like sustaining a brand new life? You’d felt awful.

So terrible, in fact, that you hadn’t even thought to mention the development to Joel, which somehow made things even worse. You just wanted to wrap up and hide, for no other reason than that you felt so self-conscious.

Now here Joel was, pressing his face to the little bulge in your frame and peering up at you with the widest, most glass-like pair of eyes you’d seen in a long time. He was watching you like he was riddled with guilt himself, oddly

You couldn’t imagine what the shame might be for.

“What are you talking about? You didn’t miss anything,” you said softly, lowering your voice to just a murmur.

Joel winced as if you’d just reared back and struck him.

“I did,” he whispered back, tone hoarse. Then, somehow, his next words came out even more broken. “I was gone so long I— I didn’t even notice you had a bump already.”

He sounded so despondent as he said it—like he’d missed some great milestone in your pregnancy and not an event that you’d actually wanted to keep out of sight.

Your heart ached in your chest. You hated seeing this.

You wanted to join him on the floor and hold him tight, tell him he hadn’t missed one single thing, but Joel’s grip around your hips was far too much to move an inch. So you remained standing instead and stroked his hair.

“What, this?” you said, gesturing toward the swell of your belly against his face. Forcing a smile when you felt guilt flood your insides. “It’s…it’s just a little bump, Joel, it’s—”

Joel drew back momentarily to meet you, eyes serious.

“It’s our baby,” he resumed, tone all soft solemnity.

That made the shame balloon in your chest.

You should’ve told him. Shown him.

But no, you’d been too afraid of what he might think of your changing body. You’d kept the news to yourself and let things go on as if nothing had happened at all. At the time, you told yourself you were doing it in Joel’s best interest—letting him rest and not spend too much time off-duty worrying about you. You’d played tougher than you really were and ended up causing the man pain over missing a moment like this. Your bottom lip trembled as you pulled him in closer to you. You hugged him to you.

“I— I’m sorry,” you croaked. You touched his head gently.

You’d just threaded your fingers through the soft, grey hair at the back of Joel’s head when he tilted his whole face back up to you. His chin hovered above your bump, and his eyes were shining up at you. Shortly, he frowned.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart? You didn’t—”

“I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to see.”

You blurted it out before you could think.

Joel was watching you so intently—tenderly—with his face so close to that spot you’d been trying to hide away. His look was open and sincere, and you felt like shit, so you just kept rambling on to clear your conscience of it.

“Ever since I saw the bump myself, I…I just…” you trailed off, feeling dumb as soon as the words started tumbling. “I didn’t like the way I looked. I wanted to keep it from you, because I was…scared of what you might think.”

And here he was, on his knees from how bad he felt.

His grip loosened, like he was processing things.

You found yourself lowering to the floor, too. You couldn’t help it. Your eyes began filling with hot, wet, hormone-induced tears like you’d been experiencing a lot of these last few weeks, and you hugged Joel again. You winced.

“I didn’t think it would mean so much to you, Joel. If I had known…If I knew it would hurt you not to know…”

Your wince became a full grimace—an ugly kind of cry that you’d long chastised yourself for doing—and you pulled back. You placed your palms over your eyes to hide your shame, but a couple stray tears leaked out.

Before you knew it, there were arms around you again. Big and muscly and warm, not hugging, but lifting you.

“Joel,” you sobbed into his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

You expected the father of your child to respond in words, but instead, at first, he just sat down on the bed with you in his hold. He let you rest your head on his chest, and for several long moments, he rocked you.

He held you, and you cried, and one of your hands came to fist the warm flannel of his shirt for sometime before you realized that Joel’s own palm was stroking your hair. Caressing it. Then, slowly, moving so he could thumb at the tears sliding down your cheeks, and holding you as close to his body as possible. Because of this, your ear was pressed flush against his chest, and you heard him.

Joel’s heart was hammering, and his breaths were quick.

You lifted your head, and as soon as you did, you were greeted with the sight of Joel peering down, face no more than a few inches away. Eyes soft and glossy.

“Joel, I’m so sorr—”

“You don’t,” Joel cut in, words still impossibly tender. “Don’t gotta apologize for nothin’, baby. Not one thing.”

You searched his face and saw exhaustion in every feature—there was no hiding that. Not just in the weeks but in the years he’d spent living in this world, fighting to survive and having all the scars and striations and thick, shining grays to prove it. You took stock of every sunspot and wrinkle, seeing a softness there that no pain had stolen, and found yourself all the more in love with this man. Your old man, the one who’d put this baby in you.

Without thinking, you reached for the hem of your dress.

You couldn’t get to it, as the skirt was long, and the material was splayed out all over Joel and the bed, but you were still able to bunch the fabric in your hands.

Tug it gently, but resolutely, up your legs. Near your hips.

Then over them. Suddenly sitting at your ribs, while your eyes stayed locked on Joel’s. The air felt a bit cooler now.

The house that you shared was always warm in winter. Now, with your stomach bared and your hand sliding at a snail’s pace up your front with Joel’s fingers clasped in it, you’d never felt a chill so biting in your life. Or frightening

Joel’s touch brushed the little bump above your pantyline, and instantly, you wanted to squirm. You hated how you felt that way, but it also couldn’t be helped. Your belly never protruded like this before, and you were still getting used to it—it would take time.

Joel hadn’t seen it even once before today.

Although he touched your body nonstop, with his focus centering a lot more on your tummy these days, he’d never actually gotten to feel the proof of his child growing inside you until now. You were showing.

Your belly was swollen beneath his hand and heaving lightly with every breath you took. You looked up at Joel.

And for once, he wasn’t looking back. He was looking at you, but his gaze this time was plastered to your lower half, where his palm was gradually moving to rest atop that tiny bump. He splayed his fingers. Yours sat timidly above his, and you wondered if you might not move back

Then you felt wetness on your hand. It was an odd, foreign feeling at first; you had no idea where those little droplets came from, but in a second, it dawned on you.

Joel’s head was bowed, and he was blinking hard.

The moisture was from his tears dripping down.

Your body almost caved with the realization. Your fingers tightened around the back of Joel’s hand, and presently, your voice was as hoarse as it had ever been as you shifted to sit up. Trying not to cry anymore yourself.

“Joel, don’t—don’t, no. This is my fault.”

“It’s my fault. I haven’t been here.”

And just hearing those words leave Joel’s mouth seemed ludicrous to you. He’d been there every step of the way to date, rubbing your back through the worst bouts of your morning sickness, spoon-feeding you on days you found it difficult to move a muscle, stroking your cheek and speaking soft words of consolation—he was there.

And here he was, meeting your gaze with bleary, bloodshot eyes as he blinked through his tears.

You couldn’t bear to see it.

You scrambled up from Joel’s lap and hugged him—no, attacked him with an embrace that knocked him flat on his back on the bed. Your arms wound around his neck, and your stomach brushed against his softer one. If it weren’t several weeks premature, you might’ve thought you felt some movement inside you. You squeezed your old man even tighter then and started shaking your head

“Oh, Joel…”

You pressed your body to his, hoping he’d feel your sincerity, if not the heat and the swell of your belly, thanks to what he’d done inside you. Now, more than anything else, you wanted to show him what he’d made happen—what you were so happy to feel every day, despite your insecurities and fears about some parts.

You wanted him to know how much you loved him.

“You’ve been here,” you assured him softly. Lifting slightly so you could lie on top with your front to his. “You always have and you always will. You hear me?”

Joel swallowed as soon as your lips attached to his neck and started peppering kisses to tufts of black and silver.

Gently, he reached around your back to hold you to him. His arms had just constricted in a protective grip around the base of your spine when you wriggled out. You sat up

You unzipped your dress and shifted on your knees to pull it off you completely. You tossed it and took a breath.

Now you were naked, save for your pale cotton panties, and sitting there. Straddling him. Soft rays of morning light filtered in through the window, and for a beat, you hoped the shadows it cast on your body didn’t make you look…odd, or undesirable to the man lying beneath you.

Fortunately, that fear was dispelled as soon as it arrived.

Joel’s gaze melted at the sight, and he swallowed again.

Wiping his eyes with one hand and beckoning with the other, he said, soft as anything: “Sweet pea, I love you.”

“I love you more.” You were fumbling to get your panties off—not even with sex in mind, but just so that Joel could see more of you. All of you. You wanted him to be able to drink in every inch now, like he couldn’t before.

You wanted to be naked with him, like you’d been when you made this baby together. It didn’t have to be anything more than pure and simple appreciation.

Though when you fumbled with the bottom buttons of Joel’s flannel and murmured, ‘Take yours off, too, please,’ you couldn’t deny that it had an edge of something else, as well. That was only natural.

Within seconds, Joel was stripped of his clothes, and his body was on display, the same as yours. You could stare at him, he could stare at you, and together, you could cherish the knowledge that these bodies made a third. There was a new one growing inside of you, day by day, and now you could see the proof as well as you’d felt it.

For once, Joel hardened, and it didn’t feel like just lust or love or arousal at the sight of your nude body, but a primal urge. When your folds dripped and glistened in turn, it wasn’t merely a product of wanting but of acknowledging what had already been done here.

This big man, this stiff and graying man, this kind man had put his seed inside you more times than you could count, and one of those moments had made him stick.

Stuck as he was, claimed as you felt, you were happy.

At last, one of your hands came to rest over your belly in a sweet, appreciative, and loving way, and you rubbed it.

It might’ve been the first time you’d done it.

That was definitely a first for Joel.

His hand immediately joined.

“You put a baby in me.” You said it gently.

“I put a baby in you,” Joel repeated.

In a breath, it was affectionate. In the next, it was protective. In the one after that, you felt his cock pushing inside you, but it hardly felt that way at all sitting on him.

It was sex, though. You rolled your hips and took him to the base. Joel’s hand stayed on your belly, trailing each movement with a look of awe. And strain. His smooth, bulbous tip grazed somewhere deep within your body, and your walls contracted around him. Sucked him in.

“Right there.” His fingers flexed over where his cock was currently stretching you out from the inside, and you whimpered softly. “Ain’t that where I stuffed you full?”

“Yes,” you breathed, free hand anchoring on his chest.

Joel fucked up into you gently, and damn, this was even better in the second trimester than the first. Your body was more responsive. Your slick warmth drew him in.

Every nerve-ending in your system seemed attuned to the one man who’d made himself a part of you, like he was made to be exactly where he was, and no place else.

“My sweet girl let daddy make her a mama, huh?”

It didn’t feel like fucking and still, you were a minute from coming. Joel’s words, paired with a hand on your swollen belly and the soft, pleasuring cadence of his thrusts made you helpless to the sensation. You looked down.

And for once, you relished the sight below. You loved it—Joel’s hand over your belly, his cock splitting you in two.

“Y’like how it looks? Me in you?” Joel chuckled. Behind it, you could sense that he was getting close too, though.

His thrusts sped up, and you bounced to meet them, a smile spreading across your lips once you found his gaze.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Know how goddamn pretty ya look swole up with me?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Your voice was sweet. Supplicating. Sincere.

It wasn’t as if your fears and insecurities all vanished the moment Joel told you you were pretty, or when he said that you had no need to be sorry. That would have to come with time—but the praise certainly helped. His words spoken so tenderly to you then had an effect.

You wanted to believe all these things, and the closer you got to climax, the more readily you shed your inhibitions. Your hips started gyrating with more force, and you no longer gave a shit whether your body looked so different.

For now, at least, you’d just have to accept that growing Joel Miller’s child inside you meant many things would change. There was no escaping it. What mattered now was your health, being together with Joel, and knowing how much he loved you, no matter what might happen.

And that much was clear from the way he eyed you suddenly—needily—and how the fingers splayed across your front migrated down your stomach, over your bump, and between where your body and his were joined. He always made sure you were taken care of, and of course, that concern extended virtually everywhere.

A series of quick, deliberate circles on your clit and his cock hitting you repeatedly in your most sensitive spot made you see stars. Your eyes were tempted to roll back in pure bliss, preparing for your orgasm to hit, when Joel snagged your attention back. He pulled you in until your chest was practically parallel with his, and then he drilled you from below. His mouth moved dangerously close to your ear, and from there, it was apparent he had plans.

Pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every thrust, he spoke gently. He made sure you heard, though

“Y’like the way this feels now, don’t ya, sweet pea?”

In response, your words were more like a babble.

Still, you somehow managed to whine a ‘yes.’

And that was all Joel needed, apparently.

He leaned in even nearer, murmuring:

“Good.”

Good?

You were seconds from release. One hand was fisting the sheets now, your body moving in frantic tandem with Joel’s, and all at once, he was lifting your head. Tilting it sideways to meet his own while he fucked you relentlessly from below. He was beaming.

“Better get used to how it feels, ‘cause I’m keepin’ this belly full as long as you’ll let me keep on givin’ it babies.”

Fucking hell.

Your stomach clenched as if to say yes again, your brain went blank, and all you could think while you came on his cock was how much you loved him back—no matter how wary you were about these changes, how unwise making a man change diapers all throughout his sixties might seem, you’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

You might change your mind.

You might not.

But by the look on Joel’s face as he finished and flooded your insides with all his hot, sticky seed, you wanted to believe you would. One baby or a hundred, you’d give just about any number a shot with your old man, Joel Miller. You let him fuck you and fill you to the brim, and when it felt like he couldn’t go any deeper, or give you any more of this release, Joel pulled you in for a kiss.

Against his lips, muted between soft, sloppy movements, you managed to get out quietly:

“Whatever daddy wants.”

And when you’d finally pulled apart and were eye-to-eye again—after everything you’d been through today and these last couple weeks, these past few months—you couldn’t help it. A grin broke out on Joel’s face at the same moment it did yours. You both breathed heavily and felt your belly pressed against his. You were reminded, once more, of what brought you here and all you had to look forward to in the next months and years.

It would be hard, but well worth it with Joel by your side.

Gently, you nudged his nose with yours.

“I love you so much, Joel,” you whispered.

“I love you more, sweet pea,” he whispered back. Smiling

[chubby-bun-bun]

heavy is the crown

As princess, you are bound by duty to marry the notorious and elusive Onichynus general, in exchange for his protection of your kingdom from an impending war. On the night of your wedding, tradition demands that you undergo the consummation rites, sealing the fate of your marriage—and your future.

tags: sylus x reader, NSFW, MDNI, royalty!au, general-of-powerful-nation!sylus x princess-of-kingdom-in-trouble!reader, first time sex (mc is a virgin), unprotected sex, afab!reader, fem!reader, slight voyeurism & somno & cockwarming at the end, lowkey breeding kink, gender-based stereotypes against women due to the time period, writing this has been a fever dream, word count: 2.7k~ worldbuilding and 5.5k~ smut lmfao

read on ao3

You dared to dream once upon a time.

You dreamt of crossing oceans beyond your shores, sailing aboard majestic galleons you’d only seen in textbooks. In the quiet solitude of your bedchambers, you imagined laughing with the townsfolk of distant cities, dancing in cobblestone streets to the melodies of traveling minstrels, and finding love in a modest man who'd want nothing more than to offer you freshly picked blooms every morning.

In the sanctuary of sleep, your dreams would lull you with visions of a simple life. A stone-walled kitchen warmed by the glow of a crackling hearth, a garden vibrant with blossoms and fresh produce, and a cozy reading nook nestled in an arched window. A loyal companion would sometimes join you—a slothful cat, a melodious songbird, a high-spirited pup, or a darling mare to carry you through grassy plains and wildflower fields.

"Do you take this man to be your wedded husband, to share in life's trials and joys, to love and honor, till death do you part?"

But such dreams have no place in the heart of a woman whose shoulders bear her kingdom's fate.

And so, as you take in the muted glow of the setting sun through delicate ivory lace, you finally put those girlhood fantasies to rest.

“I do.”

—

Being the youngest and only princess came with its fair share of trials and triumphs.

Unlike the elder princes, whose lives revolved around grueling expectations and fierce competition for the throne, your position spared you such burdens. Born to a queen who had long believed her childbearing years were behind her, you were nothing short of a miracle, arriving over a decade after your last sibling. This had earned you the undivided affection of the entire castle, leaving you thoroughly indulged and doted upon.

However, growing up without siblings near your age, you often grappled with bouts of loneliness. While you had fostered polite acquaintances among the daughters of many nobles, you found their company wearisome. The endless succession of balls and garden parties always seemed to revolve around the same gossip: politics, fashion, whispers about some baron’s sixteen-year-old daughter betrothed to a forty-year-old viscount, and, of course, the inevitable question: had anyone received a marriage proposal yet?

You naturally had many—to your dismay.

The idea of marriage filled you with profound dread. As a girl tagging along in your mother’s tea parties, you had often overheard the confessions and lamentations of the noblewomen. Stories of infidelity, neglect, and abuse spilled from their lips—duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses; women who stood at the very summit of high society. To you, marriage seemed less a sacred bond and more a cruel sentence—one far grimmer than the gallows.

At least the gallows granted the mercy of a quick death.

But as a princess, you were bound to uphold the ideal image of a young lady. One who radiated beauty, yet with grace and poise. Intelligent, but subservient to your intended husband’s authority. And, most important of all, fertile—to bear him strong sons who would carry on his legacy.

It sickened you. You would rather succumb to the plague than endure such a miserable life. But given your title, you could only try to delay the inevitable.

And so, life continued as it was—a never-ending cycle of social gatherings, fending off suitors, reading through your library, mastering languages, and nurturing a growing collection of hobbies. It was a life of privilege and routine—one that, despite its predictability, offered you a quiet sense of fulfillment.

Alas, nothing holds constant in the world, and change arrived in the form of a looming war from enemies across the sea.

Though small in size, your kingdom of Noir was a veritable treasure trove. With its abundant mountains and rivers, the island was never in short supply of precious metals, gems, and rare minerals. It was renowned for producing the finest artisans, who crafted the most exquisite jewelry, armor, and weapons. While modest in territory, it more than compensated with a thriving and prosperous economy.

The ultimate conquest for any conqueror.

Through the town streets worn smooth by centuries of footfalls, the bustling plazas lined with charming merchant stalls, the outskirt villages tucked among lush woodlands, and even the weathered stone walls of the towering castle, whispers had always flowed like an unrelenting tide—the most persistent being rumors of the neighboring kingdoms readying to seize Noir at any moment. But your father never addressed such hearsays, and life within the island always seemed as jovial and peaceful as it always did.

Until one night, as you sat engrossed in some book about Noir folklore, a series of sharp knocks on your chamber doors shattered the stillness, echoing sharply through the room.

It was your father, the king. Dropped to his knees, grasping your untainted hands in his rough, weathered ones, head bowed down at your mercy.

“Forgive me, my daughter,” he said in grief. “For the sake of the people—please, forgive me.”

For months, naval scouts had reported sightings of warships at the docks of two neighboring kingdoms, suspected of plotting to raid Noir and usurp the throne. Only a few weeks ago, those suspicions were confirmed when spies returned with dire news. The enemy militaries, vast and far stronger than your own, were preparing for a siege. Noir's true power had always been in the arts and commerce, not in its military might. Should your shores be attacked by an enemy nation—let alone two—the island would fall.

So on the very day the confirmation arrived, your father and the high court conspired to seek assistance from a nation on the mainland: Onichynus.

Conversations about the state were always hushed, spoken in whispers and laden with caution. It was rumored to be an immensely powerful dominion, even surpassing that of the hostile forces looming beyond your shores. Drunk sailors boasted of its staggering wealth, built on the spoils of their wars and ceaseless conquest. With an unmatched army of hardened warriors and mercenaries, it stood as a force to be reckoned with, its presence both feared and revered across the seas.

At its pinnacle stood their elusive general, a shadow whose name and true face remained unknown. Tales from sailors, traveling merchants, and tavern songs painted him as a ruthless figure, demon-like, who laid waste to rotten cities and beheaded corrupt kings. Some claimed he was a hero, purging the realm of wicked men in power, while others saw him as the embodiment of evil, leaving destruction and death in his wake.

Negotiations with Onichynus were a success. In return for their protection during the impending siege, Noir pledged to deliver three ships laden with its most prized metals, minerals, and gems—every year for the next century.

But to ensure Noir upheld its end of the bargain, their beloved princess would be bound in marriage to the general.

You could only keep your gaze steady, chin held high, as the king knelt before you, weeping, begging for your forgiveness.

You had your time to relish the pleasures of living as a princess. Now, it was time to fulfill your duties as one.

—

The night before the long-anticipated siege had arrived. After weeks of frantic planning and tense negotiations between Noir’s high court and the Onichynus war council, warriors and mercenaries had taken their positions across the island. Some blended seamlessly with the civilians, while the majority remained hidden in plain sight, their numbers concentrated along the docks.

In the king’s throne room, select members from both factions gathered for final preparations. Clad in his battle regalia, your father seemed a shadow of his former self—skin ashened, eyes hollow with exhaustion—yet his voice remained firm as he issued his commands to all present.

The Noir court members could hardly conceal their unease under the watchful eyes of the Onichynus war council. Towering and broad-shouldered, they seemed almost otherworldly. Their dark, burnished steel armor bore engravings of monstrous creatures, and many donned cloaks of crimson or black, their edges deliberately singed to resemble fire's touch. Helmets, adorned with jagged horns, cast grotesque shadows, while those who forwent them revealed faces with jagged streaks of war paint, as if to mimic claw marks.

Then, the heavy doors groaned open, spilling thick tendrils of black-red mist into the chamber. A hush fell as all eyes turned toward the towering figure that emerged from the haze.

The general.

For all the whispered tales of his demonic appearance—horns as tall as claymores, wings that spanned the heavens, and a tail that stretched like a river—you were stunned to find a face not of a monster, but of an angel.

Against the backdrop of his dark cloak, his striking silver hair stood out in sharp contrast. His features were sculpted with precision—high, defined cheekbones, a strong jawline, a straight nose, all framed by an expression that revealed little, save for full lips drawn into a tight line. The people of Noir gawked openly, stunned to finally see the man from the tales in the flesh. His gait was languid yet exuded confidence as he strode toward the throne where you sat beside your father.

His gaze found yours, and you stilled.

The deep scarlet of his eyes was piercing. You almost felt naked under it. Instantly, you straightened in your seat, fingers twitching to smooth the fabric of your dress.

“Expect the warships to be visible in six hours,” he said, his voice cutting through the room. The low timbre of it sent a chill racing up your spine.

“General, are you certain our forces are enough to handle their fleet?” your mother asked, voice quivering as she addressed him from your father’s other side.

The general's lips curved faintly, a low, rumbling chuckle escaping him.

“Rest easy, Your Majesty. By dawn, their remains will have joined their forefathers’ ghosts beneath the sea."

—

You had come to realize that Onichynus truly deserved the fear and respect it commanded. Just before daybreak, the gut-wrenching blare of Noir’s watchtower horns finally shattered the unnerving stillness of the island.

The enemies had fallen.

You had been locked away in one of the castle’s tower chambers, away from harm’s reach. As the kingdom’s key to securing this alliance, it was critical that no harm befell the general's betrothed.

After the second wave of victory horns, your door creaked open, revealing your maidservant—frantic, breathless from the long climb up the spiral staircase.

“Your Highness,” she gasped, voice trembling. “We’ve won.”

You could see the restraint in the way her nails dug into her apron, her blown pupils amidst her ragged breaths. She was restraining herself, her elation held in check, out of deference to you.

After all, Noir’s freedom had come at the cost of yours.

With a wistful smile, you turned toward the window, watching the flickering torchlights snake through the streets below. The chorus of jubilant cries and chants carried through the valleys, their voices rising to the heavens and echoing back from the mountain’s deepest crevices.

“It seems we have,” you murmured, voice barely audible over the chorus of celebration below.

You heard her hesitant shuffle behind you. "Several of the servants have been briefed already. They shall be ready tomorrow morning to begin preparations for the wedding."

You spun toward her, pulse pounding in your ears. "So soon?"

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet your eyes. "Onichynus wanted to complete the rites as quickly as possible, so they could sail for the mainland the following day."

You let out a slow exhale. "I see."

Your maidservant hesitated, her eyes flicking toward you, before she spoke again.

"If it offers you any comfort, ma'am," she said softly, head bowed, "you saved all of us."

You swallowed hard, forcing back the sting of tears threatening to spill.

—

Like your mother, grandmother, and all the royal women before you, you had always envisioned your wedding as a day of grandeur. You pictured riding through the town streets in the royal carriage, flanked by guards, waving to the cheering crowds. You imagined wearing a bespoke gown that sparkled in the light, a train so long it would sweep behind you like a royal procession.

You imagined trumpets announcing your arrival, their triumphant notes echoing through a hall packed with dignitaries and nobility from across the realm. And at the altar, a man of honor and equal standing would wait for you, his gaze warm with affection as you joined in a union built on love, not duty.

But now—the sun has nearly set, painting the grand temple in muted amber light. Inside, the space feels hollow, adorned only by a few hurriedly arranged flowers, their disarray a testament to the servants' exhaustion from cleaning up the siege’s destruction. Your gown, though lovely, is no custom-made masterpiece—just a window display piece hastily altered by the royal dressmaker. The pews stand mostly empty, save for your crestfallen family, a handful of somber faces from the Noir high court, and the ever-stoic Onichynus war council.

Your husband-to-be, still clad in his dark battle regalia, stands steadfast at your side, his expression an impenetrable mask as the archbishop intones the ceremonial rites. You had imagined him to be someone hard to look at—perhaps as old as a grandfather, his years as a general etched into every line of his face, and his figure weighed down by indulgent vices. Yet, to your quiet relief, he is nothing of the sort. Even if he proves unsavory as a husband or father to your future children, at least he’s pleasing to look at.

“By the will of fate, you are now bound in union,” the High Priest finally says, raising his palms toward you both. “May your allegiance to one another be as steadfast as the duties you carry, and may this union bring the future of your realms to prosperity.”

—

You wince as an elderly maidservant struggles to loosen a particularly stubborn knot in your hair, the pull jerking your head painfully. She pauses, her hand gently patting the spot in apology.

Your gaze stays fixed on the cold, flatstone floor, and you hardly notice the other maidservants bustling around you. One smooths out the faint creases in your satin nightdress, while another tugs at the neckline, pulling it lower to expose more of your cleavage and collarbone. Beneath the thin fabric, your undergarments have been removed, leaving you vulnerable to the biting chill of the room. You’ve been scrubbed clean, coated in the silkiest lotions, each scent more intoxicating than the last—all for your first night with your new husband.

“Are you nervous, Your Highness?” the elderly maidservant asks, her hands gentle as she brushes through your hair.

You pause, the question settling in your chest as you ponder how to answer.

“I can’t say I’m confident,” you say, twisting your fingers together. “I’ve never been with a man before.”

In the mirror, you catch the discreet glances exchanged behind you, their pity and concern barely hidden. You force yourself to look away, but the weight of their silent judgment lingers.

“The Onichynus general… he seemed like such a massive man,” a younger maidservant whispers, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I do hope he treats Her Highness with kindness.”

Another maidservant scoffs, her tone sharp with bitterness. “All men are beasts, driven only by their lust for control—and for anything with a pair of breasts.”

There’s a collective hiss of disapproval from the others, but the harsh words still echo in your mind. You fight to keep your face composed, though your heart aches with fear.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” the elderly maidservant says, her voice light. “The men from that state may be known for their ruthlessness, but with your likeness, the general will surely find himself a changed man.”

You can only hope the same.

Soon after, you begin your walk to the matrimonial room. The maidservants fall in step around you, their presence a quiet shield.  The lively chatter from your earlier preparations has faded, replaced by a tense, almost somber silence. Despite the considerable distance between rooms, the walk feels too short, each step too swift. Before you can fully gather your bearings, you now find yourself alone, sitting on the bed, the weight of the night settling in around you.

You shouldn’t feel this nervous. Women across the realm are bound to face this, especially those of royal blood. Consummation on the wedding night is an expectation, a duty. No matter how much you’ve dreaded or tried to avoid it, you’ve always known it was inevitable. All that’s left now is to steel yourself, strive to please your husband, and to embrace your role as a future mother—for Noir’s sake.

The doors swing open, and you flinch. The general steps inside, his damp hair clinging to his face, a clear sign of a recent bath. His attire for the evening is simple: loose trousers and a tunic that, despite its modesty, does little to hide the breadth of his shoulders or the strong lines of his chest. Your gaze betrays you, lingering longer than it should, tracing the way the fabric shifts with his movements. His towering height seems to diminish even the vast expanse of the room, making the high ceilings feel incredibly small.

His ember-like eyes catch yours and you suddenly feel too exposed.

“Good evening, princess.” 

“General,” you greet, wincing at how weak it sounds as it leaves your lips.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders beneath the delicate straps of your ivory nightdress, the soft swell of your breasts pressing gently against the neckline. The fabric cinches at your waist before flaring out around your hips, emphasized by the way you sit at the edge of the mattress. Your posture is rigid, hands clasped in your lap—a result of all the etiquette drilled into you from childhood.

He notices the tension in your form and lets out a sigh, turning toward the couch at the far end of the room.

You blink.

“Where are you going?” you blurt out, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Your Highness,” he drawls, settling into the couch with a lazy grace. “We don’t have to do this. You look like a kitten with her hackles raised. We could ruffle the bedding, spill some oil on the sheets, and pretend we had a night worthy of the chamberlain’s inspection.”

A flash of panic rises within you. You stand, words tumbling out in a rush. “Nonsense! Marriage is not recognized before the temple unless consummated on the night of the ceremony.”

He tilts his head, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Such peculiar customs you have here on Noir.”

You had imagined a thousand ways this night could go, a thousand versions of the man you’d just married. Not one of them prepared you for this.

You flush, frustration building in your chest. “General, I would appreciate it if you respect the customs of Noir. We are a proud people, and we honor the traditions passed down to us by our forefathers.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, with a slow, deliberate pace, he stands and makes his way toward you. For every step he takes, you fight the instinct to hunch your shoulders, to shrink away. Next thing you know, he’s standing before you, his imposing size forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain your gaze.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, gently cupping your face. The heat of his touch burns through your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You finally avert your eyes. “I’ve never been with a man before,” you manage to say with as much indifference as you can muster, nails digging into your palms.

“Really? Not even a stolen kiss in your youth?”

You clench your teeth. “There are far more pressing matters to focus on than indulging in childish flirtations.”

He laughs, a rich, deep sound that resonates through the air, stirring an unexpected warmth low in your belly.

“Alright,” he concedes, his finger tracing a slow path along your cheek. Without warning, he grips your jaw, the touch both commanding and tender, pulling your gaze back to meet his. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way. None of those absurd rules from your royal handbook.”

You pull back slightly, brows knitting in confusion. “The act is the same, is it not?”

“Do you agree, Your Highness?” he presses, lips grazing your ear ever so slightly. The warmth of his breath against your skin is unfamiliar, and the rush of heat that sweeps up your neck sends electrifying pulses deep within your core.

“Yes,” you grit out.

After studying your expression one last time, he lowers himself slightly, then grips the back of your thighs and lifts you with ease. You gasp, scrambling to find your balance. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers digging into the firm, broad muscles of his shoulders. With a smooth shift, he adjusts your position, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips, before carrying you to the vanity desk at the center of the room.

You struggle to speak, words caught in your throat as the sensation of being so high up in the air makes you dizzy. He finally sets you down on the desk, his large palms slowly dragging down your legs, gently pushing your knees apart.

“G—General,” you stammer, eyes wide as he pulls his tunic over his head, revealing a tanned expanse of skin and the hard, defined muscles beneath. “The bed is over there—why are we here?”

A flicker of a smile plays at his lips as he tosses the fabric carelessly to the floor. “Trust me, princess. Now close your eyes.”

You want to argue, remind him that asking you to trust the most notorious figure in the realm—whom you’ve barely known for a day—is no small request. But the gravity in his scarlet gaze quiets any protest. With a reluctant breath, you close your eyes.

There’s no movement at first. Then, his calloused palms find your knees, the rough calluses a stark contrast against the smooth stretch of your skin. Heat blossoms under his touch, searing its way upward as his hands glide along the curve of your hips, the taper of your waist. You fail to suppress the shudder coursing through you when his touch pauses just below the swell of your breasts, lingering for a heartbeat before sliding to your sides, his broad palms more than spanning the width of your back.

Then, you feel the faint brush of his breath against your mouth, a fleeting warmth before his lips capture yours in a tender kiss. The hot, wet sensation has your back arching instinctively, your hardened nipples pressing through the thin fabric of your nightgown against his hard chest. A deep, throbbing ache pulses at your core, and you clamp your thighs together in a futile effort to suppress the damp heat pooling between them.

The overwhelming rush of sensations draws a whimper from your lips, your trembling hands clutching at his shoulders for stability. His response is immediate—a low, guttural groan before he deepens the kiss, his mouth returning to yours with even more fervor.

You’ve read about kissing in your sparse collection of romance novels, tried to envision the mechanics behind the act. But the mental images always fell short, awkward and unappealing, leaving you unconvinced of its charm. You’d dismissed it as unnecessary, even pointless—especially when it came to something as pragmatic and straightforward as sex.

But now the general is sneaking in the hot, wet glide of his tongue between your lips and you panic, not sure what it is he’s doing and what you’re supposed to do. He must sense your uncertainty, because his large hand moves to steady your jaw and nape, holding you in place. When he feels the accidental brush of your tongue, he wastes no time and sucks at it, the lewd sound echoing in your ears, forcing soft, strangled sounds from your throat.

You no longer feel the seeping chill from outside the castle walls, body now feeling like it’s on fire, the wetness dripping from your entrance sliding down your inner thighs. You feel like you’re drunk and about to pass out, so you push his chest back with a gentle palm.

“General,” you say, heaving through swollen lips. “What… what are we doing? The bed…”

He takes a moment to steady his breath, eyes squeezed shut, palms pressing firmly at your waist. Then, a low, rough chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“You’re infuriatingly naive,” he mutters, his sweat-damp forehead resting against your shoulder. “You must be the only woman of all arranged marriages eager to crawl into bed with a man she barely knows.”

You flush, indignant at the implication behind his words. “What are you trying to say?” you demand, mouth unconsciously forming into a pout.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing gently over your lower lip. “What I’m saying, princess, is let me take care of you. I don’t know what your upbringing has taught you, but there’s more to this than just... getting it over with.”

You’re not used to being told what to do and deviating from the rules, so you force out a sharp “fine”—an unintended display of bratty defiance, considering the man before you. But he only laughs, and to your dismay, the sound makes him even more handsome than he already is.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, lifting you by your bottom this time, pressing you flush against his chest. His hands on your backside—so close to where you’re throbbing and wet—has you flinching forward. You suddenly feel the brush of something firm against the sensitive nub above your slit, and you jerk again in surprise.

He chuckles, before gently lowering you onto the soft expanse of the mattress. His lips find your collarbone first, then trail down to your nipples, where he suckles through the fabric. A soft whimper escapes you, your fingers curling into the sheets. You can feel his smile against your skin as his tongue sweeps over one of your sensitive buds, before continuing its journey down toward your abdomen.

But then he hovers his face above your groin that’s barely concealed by the bunched-up hem of your nightgown. Alarm jolts through you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, torso rising instinctively. You attempt to close your legs, but his hands hold them firmly apart. 

“General—”

“Sylus,” he interrupts, lips brushing along the inside of your knee. “We’re married now, sweetheart. Use my name.”

A twisted sense of pride coils within you, knowing you hold both the name and face of the most infamous man in the realm.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat before continuing. “Sylus,” you echo, the name oddly satisfying on your lips. “Not that I’m… doubting your expertise, but is all of this really necessary?”

He exhales heavily, saying nothing at first. Then, he takes your hand—its size utterly lost in his grip—and guides it down your body. His movements are deliberate, stopping only when your palm meets the undeniable hardness of his cock, straining against his trousers.

You struggle to contain the jumbled stutters tumbling from your lips. “What are you—”

“I’m a big man,” he states matter-of-factly, his gaze unwavering. “And this is your first time. As you are now—you won’t be able to handle me.”

You don’t fully understand what he means, but the statement silences you nonetheless.

He chuckles, letting go of your hand, and you immediately pull it back to your chest. “May I?” he asks, his voice low as he hovers below you once again.

You flash a glare, before nodding reluctantly.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans back, his gaze shifting downward to the space between your legs. Slowly, he lifts the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until the cool air brushes against your exposed skin. You watch, eyes heavy, fighting the tremors rushing through you, as his hand moves along the inside of your thigh. When his fingers brush against your folds, a sharp exhale escapes you, and your head falls back onto the mattress.

“You’re so sensitive, princess,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his words.

“Shut up and get on with it,” you snap, covering your eyes with your forearm.

You hear a quiet laugh escape him before two fingers press against the sensitive nub above your folds, sending a shock of pleasure through your body. Your back arches instinctively as he slides his fingers up and down against your entrance. The motion, slick and sinful, leaves you gasping, and you struggle to keep your legs open, body trembling from the unfamiliar pleasure.

Sylus’ eyes darken, flicking between the way his fingers tease your slick folds and the way your breasts strain against your dress. His breathing grows heavier as he reaches up, pulling the neckline down to expose your chest. A soft whine escapes you when his hand cups one swell, firm yet gentle, while the other continues its relentless ministrations below.

“I’m pressing one in, alright?” he murmurs.

You barely register the words before he pushes a thick finger past your folds.

“Wait—it feels—ngh—it’s strange,” you stammer, voice hitching on a whine.

He stills immediately, digit only halfway in. “Does it hurt?”

“I… kind of? I don’t know…”

You’re panting. The pressure is peculiar, and quite unpleasant. Your body tenses at the newness of it, the unfamiliar stretch bordering on discomfort.

He remains patient, finger unmoving. Then, you feel his thumb press on your nub, drawing gentle circles against the sensitive lower hood of it. The obscene sound of slickness fills the space and you’re mortified, toes curling at the wave of arousal soaking his hand.

“This better?” he whispers, drinking in every detail—your heaving chest, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the tremor in your thighs, and the glistening mess pooling between them.

You can’t respond, overwhelmed by the spiraling pleasure.

A chuckle rumbles from him, low and pleased, as he presses the rest of his finger inside. This time, it slides in smoothly, and the high-pitched moan that escapes you is muffled by your trembling palm. Now knuckle-deep, he gently strokes upward, pressing on a rough spot that makes you jerk in his hold.

“I’m going to try something, alright?” he says softly, breath brushing against your knee as he plants a tender kiss.

“Okay,” you croak, struggling to process the pulsing sensations building deep inside you.

The circles on your nub stop, and you almost whimper at the loss. But before you can voice your complaints, something warm, wet, and utterly foreign replaces his thumb. Your head snaps back, a raw, choked cry tearing from your lips.

“General—hah—Sylus… What are you—?”

He doesn’t answer. Dazed, you prop yourself up and the sight before you is almost too much: the most powerful man in the realm, kneeling between your legs, his mouth worshiping you with unrelenting fervor. His tongue laps at your folds, drags it languidly up to your engorged nub before closing his lips around it, sucking in a way that sends sharp, electric pulses straight through your core.

Panicked by the unbearable pressure building inside, you try to push his head away. “Stop—it’s strange, I feel like I’m going to—”

Before you can finish, he slides another finger inside, stretching you further. His fingers curl, stroking that spongy spot with unrelenting precision. His mouth works in tandem, alternating between suckling and lapping at your overstimulated nub.

Tears blur your vision as the intensity peaks. You scream into your palms, hips bucking against his mouth and hand as you feel yourself tip over the high he brought you to.

Sylus watches, entranced, as your legs open wider, cries muffled as your body convulses under his ministrations. Even as you shatter under him, he doesn’t let up, prolonging your fall at his mercy. And when you’re finally sent over the edge, your release flooding his eager mouth, he drinks in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, and utterly spent.

He presses his cheek against your inner thigh, feeling the delicate tremors rippling through your body as you struggle to steady your breathing. His eyes trail over your folds, soft and swollen, slightly parted as your essence continues to glisten and drip. Unable to hold back, he dips his head and presses a slow, deliberate kiss, groaning as your intoxicating taste lingers on his lips.

Your cry pierces the air, hands flying to his hair as you tug with desperation. “W—Wait…! I can’t… it’s too much… please…”

He only chuckles, low and teasing, before placing a final kiss on the sensitive nub above your folds. Then, he moves upward, settling his weight against you. His chin rests between your breasts, arms locking yours in place as his eyes meet yours, heat and satisfaction dancing in his gaze.

As clarity slowly returns, the enormity of what just happened hits you. He—the Onichynus general, a man who strikes fear in nations across the realm—had just laved at your most intimate area with his tongue. Such an act is nowhere to be found in the guides you’ve read on sex, not even as a distant suggestion. And yet, you enjoyed it. Far more than you care to admit.

An embarrassed huff escapes you as heat blooms across your face. You throw your hands up to cover it, unwilling to meet the insufferable smugness you can practically feel radiating from him below.

Suddenly, you feel the neckline of your dress being tugged down again, catching beneath your breasts. Then, you feel the flat of his tongue gently press on a nipple, circling it with the tip before pulling it into his mouth to suckle. His hand slides up to your other bud, palm brushing over it in slow, deliberate motions. Breasts are meant to nourish, to sustain future generations—mere vessels for the creation of life. Yet the hairs at the back of your neck raise on end as you feel the return of the persistent pulsing deep within you. You bite your lip, stifling the sounds threatening to escape, back arching as you desperately chase the sensation of his mouth on you.

“We can stop now if you wish, Your Highness,” he murmurs against your skin.

Fighting the heaviness taking over your body, you grab his jaw, forcing him to meet the fire in your gaze. “Do you have a problem with consummating with me, general?”

He responds with a particularly sharp suck at your nipple.

“Ngh—! Sylus! I meant Sylus!” you cry out, correcting yourself with a gasp.

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before moving to the soft curve of your breast. His mouth alternates between harsh sucking and teasing bites, leaving a trail of bruised blooms in his wake.

“While intercourse may be a mere formality to you Noir people, in Onichynus, it’s an act of passion and love,” he says, voice low as he shifts to giving attention to your other bud. “I wish to ensure that Her Highness, my wife, has a memorable first experience. So, if you feel spent for the night, we can always stop. At any time.”

His words settle deep inside you and you feel warmth spread in your chest. Perhaps Onichynus is more than the tales of its ruthless reputation, after all. Hesitantly, you caress his cheek, heart aching at the way he closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm. He almost seems like a clingy pet feline.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I want to finish the rites,” you say softly. Then, you flush, struggling to find the right words. “And, um, I didn’t expect things to be this… good. I don’t mind experiencing more, if it’s alright with you.”

It takes a moment for your words to register, and when they do, Sylus smirks—a slow, predatory curl of his lips that sends heat coursing through your body. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushes your bottom lip, and this time, you grant him easy access. You mimic what he did to you earlier, tentatively wrapping your lips around his tongue and sucking gently.

Immediately, a low, visceral groan escapes him as his hips press forward, grinding his restrained arousal against your soaked folds. The rough fabric of his trousers drags against your sensitive nub, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through you. You whine into his mouth, arms winding around his neck as you pull him impossibly closer.

Sylus seems barely in control now, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he adjusts his movements, angling his hips so that the ridge where his shaft meets the head rubs directly against your overstimulated nub.

Without warning, he breaks the kiss, leaving you on the verge of a whine as a string of spit bridges the space between you. He steps back, tugging his trousers down in one swift motion. Your gaze drops instinctively, and your breath catches at the sight of him.

Broad shoulders taper into a lean waist, and every inch of his sculpted body radiates strength. But it’s the thick, throbbing length between his legs that holds your attention. He notices the starstruck look on your gaze and he chuckles, walking closer to you until you're face level with it. Taking your hand, he gently wraps it around his girth. The sheer thickness overwhelms your grip, and your breath catches at the realization.

“Feel free to take a look,” he rasps.

You’ve never seen a cock before, but instinctively, you know this one is massive. The shaft is thick,  with prominent veins that seem to throb faintly, and the soft, rounded shapes below it look heavy and full. The bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip is flushed, beads of some kind of white, translucent fluid glistening at the slit. For some reason, you feel the urge to lean in and taste it.

Sylus takes your hand, shaping it into a loose 'O.' “This is you,” he murmurs, guiding your fingers to glide along his length, spreading the slick fluid. “And this…” He pushes through the circle you’ve made, the thick head sliding in and out. “…is how it’ll feel when I’m inside you.”

Slowly, he begins to move, sliding his shaft through your grip. The sensation is intoxicating, and you’re mesmerized by the sight of him—his cock pumping in and out of your hand, each stroke leaving it sticky with his arousal. You don’t even realize your lips are parting until you lean forward, your tongue darting out to flick against the leaking tip.

Sylus lets out a guttural moan, one hand tangling in your hair as his hips jerk involuntarily. His taste—salty and slightly bitter—is heady, and the heat of him against your tongue heightens your arousal. He bucks into your mouth, and though you gag slightly, you fight to take more of him, desperate for the connection.

You feel too empty.

“Princess—fuck—this is torture,” he groans, his deep voice rough with restraint.

You can only moan in response, lips stretched around his cock as he begins thrusting into your mouth. His large hands steady your head, guiding your movements. You peek up at him through fluttering lashes, and you feel your folds quiver at the sinful sight of the Onichynus general panting, eyes shut, sweat-covered muscles taut as he pistons in and out of you.

You are Noir’s beloved princess—revered and envied for your beauty, grace, and intellect—yet now you’re barely coherent, delirious over the addictive taste of your husband as he fucks your mouth over and over.

One particularly deep thrust hits the back of your throat and you gag, tears springing to your eyes. Sylus curses under his breath and withdraws immediately.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he pants, taking in the sight of you—tears streaking your cheeks, saliva glistening on your lips, thighs pressed together in a futile attempt to relieve your ache.

“It’s okay,” you croak, voice hoarse and small.

Sylus pauses, taking a moment to steady himself and pull back from the frenzy consuming him, before climbing onto the bed, positioning himself against the headboard. His hands grip your waist, lifting you effortlessly to straddle his lap. Movements frantic and barely restrained, he aligns your slick folds against the length of his shaft. His lips find yours again, urgent and demanding, while his hands grip your hips, guiding you to rock against him. The friction against your sensitive nub draws a cry from you, and he groans into your mouth.

“Let me have you, princess,” he practically begs against your lips between heavy breaths.

You barely have time to process his words before he lifts you slightly, the broad head of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance. Then, you feel an immediate, sharp stretch as he breaches your folds, pushing deeper until the full length of him fills you to the hilt.

A strangled cry escapes you and you collapse against his chest, burying your face in his neck with stilted sobs. Sylus remains still, large hands massaging your rear soothingly, coaxing your body to adjust.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple. “Just breathe. Let me in.”

“It hurts,” you gasp. He shifts slightly, and a sharp sensation makes you wince, like he’s hitting a spot that feels too far, too much. “T—Too big…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, breath hot and uneven against your ear. His hands move carefully, gently parting the delicate skin of your folds in an attempt to ease the stretch and make it more bearable.

Keeping his hips as still as possible, he reaches for the hem of your now sweat-soaked nightgown, lifting it with as much gentleness as he can muster. His eyes trace the path of the fabric as it reveals the slick mess of fluids dripping from where you're joined, the soft curve of your belly, the delicate bounce of your breasts freed from constraint, and finally, your tear-streaked face—beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his. Guilt flickers through him as he feels himself twitch and grow even harder inside you, despite your pained whimpers.

After tossing the fabric aside, his lips find your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to the spots that make your walls flutter around him, drawing soft, helpless sounds from your lips. 

“Once you’re settled in our home on the mainland, you’ll have everything you could ever desire,” he murmurs, hands gliding up to rub gentle circles over your hardened nipples.

“You’ll have servants at your beck and call, and you’ll be free to do whatever you please. No one will dare defy you—no one will even think to.”

The vivid imagery of his words wraps around your mind like a spell, pulling you deeper into him. The sharp discomfort of being stretched begins to ebb, replaced by a dull ache that shifts to faint blooms of pleasure.

“And when you finally swell with my child,” he breathes, tone thick with promise, “I’ll find endless delight in claiming you over and over, until the first light of dawn touches us.”

You flush at the picture of him taking you like this, with your belly round and full with his heir.

He chuckles low against your ear, the sound dark and rich. “Oh? You like that idea, don’t you?”

You huff, landing a light smack on his chest. “Do not tease me,” you protest, voice carrying a hint of authority despite your half-lidded gaze. The sight of you perched on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, while you fix him with a stern, regal expression befitting a princess is enough to have his hips bucking up to you.

With a strained groan, he crashes his lips against your neck, his cock throbbing almost painfully within your tight walls. “I need you, princess,” he rasps against your skin, barely holding back the urge to thrust up into you.

The pressure of the stretch still lingers, but the sharp pain has melted into pulses of pleasure. You place your hips back, grinding your sensitive nub against his groin, desperate for more. “Please do something,” you plead, hips moving in frantic, clumsy circles, chasing a bliss you don’t know you’re craving.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. He lowers you back onto the mattress while still buried deep inside you. Propping himself up on his elbows, his gaze locks onto yours as he slowly draws his hips back, leaving only the tip nestled at your entrance. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he sinks back in to the hilt, filling you completely in one long, unrelenting stroke.

You cry out, this time in response to the delicious friction of his cock dragging against your walls. Driven wild by your reaction, he pulls back again, then thrusts deeply into you with another slow, deliberate plunge. A hiss escapes him as the head of his cock presses against your deepest depths.

“You’re doing so good,” he groans, lips brushing over the bruises left by his earlier kisses on your neck. “You’ve been such a darling for me, haven’t you?”

To his twisted delight, you remain incomprehensible, helpless sounds pouring from your kiss-bitten lips as you scramble to steady yourself by gripping his shoulders, nails digging painfully into his skin. He’s almost feral at the way your flesh ripples from the impact of each thrust. The princess of Noir, coveted by men all over the realm, now lies beneath him, sweat-slicked, legs spread, and taking his cock so wonderfully.  But beyond that, he sees the most perfect queen—one whose unparalleled intellect and sharp wit can stand beside him in his pursuit for power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, and you whine, tears staining your cheeks at the dizzying emptiness. He merely shushes you soothingly before gently turning you over onto your stomach. Before you can garble out a question on what he’s doing, he plunges into you once more, hitting a spot against your front that has you curling your toes and screaming into the sheets.

“I—It feels s—strange again—!” you manage between broken whimpers, each word punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his movements against your sore walls.

“Wanna feel good again, princess?” he murmurs against your ear.

Your answering sob is all the reply you can muster.

Suddenly, you’re hoisted up on your knees, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand grips your jaw, holding your face up. His thrusts quicken, erratic and desperate, and you gasp as his tongue traces the outer shell of your ear. Then, his hand slides lower, fingers finding the swollen nub above your abused folds. The sudden burst of pleasure at the rubbing motion has you crying out, body tightening as a familiar heat coils low in your belly.

You begin to thrash in his hold at the overwhelming sensations. “Sy—I think—I think I’m—”

“Let it happen, princess, I got you.”

With those words, your hands tangle in his sweat-damp hair as a violent shudder wracks your body, exhausted sobs escaping your lips. His relentless pace doesn’t falter, eyes locked on the harsh bounce of your breasts as he pounds into you from behind, chasing his release. The tight grip of your walls and the slick heat enveloping his cock finally push him over the edge, his thrusts turning shallow and frantic before burying himself deep with a final, forceful motion, spilling his seed inside you.

Sylus takes a moment to catch his breath, pressing soft, chaste kisses along your shoulders.

“You alright, princess?”

You don’t respond.

Confused, he gently tilts your head back, only to find your peaceful, sleeping face, soft snores escaping your lips. He huffs a small laugh. How adorable.

Carefully, he shifts against the headboard, settling you onto him with his half-hard cock still nestled inside, twitching faintly. Draping your legs over his knees, he starts massaging your inner thighs, soothing the soreness he knows must be there.

A series of sharp knocks echoes through the room.

“This is the chamberlain. I must confirm that the consummation rites have been fulfilled for your marriage to be deemed legitimate by the Grand Temple.”

Sylus scowls, eyes scanning over your sleeping form. “Can’t this wait in the morning?”

“This is necessary to eliminate any possibility of deceit in performing the rites.”

“Damn uptights,” he mutters. Then, a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “Well, come in then.”

The door swings open, revealing the old chamberlain in his faded temple robes, his attention fixed on his ledger. He mumbles the schedule for the following day as he approaches the bed. When he finally looks up, expecting to see the usual ruffled, soaked sheets, he freezes, almost stumbling backward in shock.

You—the cherished Noir princess, known for your beauty and headstrong grace—lie exhausted, nestled against the imposing form of the feared Onichynus general behind you. His scarlet eyes glint as he sucks a mark onto the side of your neck, and beneath you, his impressive girth disappears into your swollen, intimate folds, generous amounts of your combined essences coating his base.

“This is evidence enough, no?” Sylus taunts, sneaking in a shallow thrust up to you, drawing a soft, breathless whine from your throat.

The chamberlain stammers, his words fumbling as he backs toward the door.

“Y—Yes, the rites are confirmed. Good night,” he rushes out in a single breath before slamming the door behind him.

Chuckling, Sylus pulls his sleeping wife closer, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You’ll need the rest for the long journey ahead, and for whatever adjustments await you back on the mainland.

But, in the end, none of that matters.

He’s just grateful to have found his beloved kitten again.

check out my other works!

[lowkeyren]

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 

alhaitham. 

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó…  nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you. 

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 

alhaitham. 

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why? 

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you. 

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today: 

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you? 

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.” 

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.” 

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions? 

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 

alhaitham. 

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 

To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so? 

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—" 

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

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