#there is nothing either good or bad {musings}

[where-dreamers-go]

"Choices" Self Aware! Leon Kennedy x Gamer! Reader -- Part One

(A/N: Going a little out there with a self aware Leon Kennedy trying to get through his mission in Spain while not always in full control of his movements.

Hey, as someone who's first fanfic series was called Love Your Plushies on DeviantArt, this isn't too bonkers.

Giving Reader a gaming room to live the dream!

Warnings: forbidden love, angst, canon violence, slow burn, mild language, and multiple povs.

Word Count: ... words)

~~~

~~~

Perhaps late. Perhaps right on time. You were finally playing the remake of Resident Evil Four.

Light in the room was dim enough not to leave an annoying glare on the screen. No obvious reflection of yourself either. Always a bonus. A cozy atmosphere within your little gaming room.

You pulled at the blanket behind you on your supportive chair as the start screen loaded up.

Ominous music played through your earbuds and you almost instinctively became more alert.

"Ready to go." You popped your knuckles before reaching for the game controller. "Where'd I leave off with Leon?"

Loading to your last save point, the sound of distant rain gave an eerie sense of calm. The kind that made you glad you had a blanket and your back to the wall.

In the center of your screen, the man and hero from your dreams stood without his jacket for warmth. A little dark indoors, but he was safe.

"There he is," you said fondly.

. . .

Shaking his head, Leon felt as if he had awoken from a short sleep, like he dozed off. Yet the typewriter sat on a trunk and the locked iron gate sat exactly where he remembered.

And the nightmare continues, Leon thought bitterly. He just wanted to find Ashley and get out. Upgrading might not be a bad idea though...

"There he is." A familiar voice came from behind, happy and lively.

"Heh."

There you are. Leon didn't need to turn around. There was no one to see, but that didn't mean he ignored the mysterious voice. I wonder how long it's been for them.

Stepping around in a circle, he surveyed the small area at the foot of the stairs.

"Oh, yeah." The voice spoke again. "This was after the freaky large spider-wannabe jumped a guy up there... And Ada. Definitely needed a break from all that."

You and me both.

Of course, he could've said so out loud. However, Leon had yet to speak to you directly, the mysterious faceless voice. He was busy surviving the mission and you were --

He walked up to the hooded figure.

"Nothing but the finest wares!"

You were busy controlling his main movements. Most of the time. Making choices he likewise might have overlooked or would not had gone out of his way to do.

Are we going to sell that Extravagant Clock now?

Oh, you did more than that. Between selling what Leon had no use for and checking for future upgrades on weapons; he was grateful you repaired his body armor.

It's good to know they have some sense, he thought in relief.

Throughout Leon's mission thus far, he without a doubt knew you wanted nothing more than to help him. He had heard you multiple times. In fact, he'd grown quite accustomed to your commentary: yelling at infected, scolding anyone or thing that landed a hit on him, giving words of encouragement specifically for him when he otherwise just wanted a break, and the ever endearingly soft "I'll get you out of here, Leon.". He didn't know anyone like you. Heck, he didn't know where you were!

He wondered how long you would be joining him this time. Two hours? Less? It depended on your schedule and he would only know if you spoke up. That's how he knew more time went by for you.

They can't be too bad if they're helping me, Leon thought. Unless this is messed up too. No one else seems to hear them.

Turning in place, Leon was soon directed to the typewriter.

"Just in case," you murmured as the other man spoke to Leon.

Thinking ahead as always, he mused.

Using his elbow to make the large weight drop, the gate opened to the darken sky. Fiery torches lit the expanse of the castle. A creepy laugh sounded out of the tall speakers overhead.

"That's creepy." You commented while steering Leon in the direction of the closest barrel to kick.

He walked further and something whizzed passed him.

"Hey." You directed Leon back to take cover and quickly take aim through a scope.

Enemies up on the far tower were shooting at Leon. A couple of headshots later and he put the weapon away.

"All right." Leon said before moving forward.

Ahead a draw bridge lowered and a lot of men stood ready.

"Oh, you were expecting me." Leon quickly grabbed your weapon of preference.

Seeing the wooden shields and hearing one guy chanting, Leon was glad you were having him keep a distance. For that moment.

"Save him for last," you murmured from behind him.

It all happened rather swiftly and without incident. One suplex included, which he knew impressed you specifically aside from a well aimed kick.

Leon ventured inside the next section, with its multiple gateways per room that made you justifiably suspicious.

All was fine of course until he was running extremely low on ammo.

"Stop latching onto their heads," you growled at the infected. "You look like off-brand little xenomorphs."

That's a description. Leon continued downward to more surprises.

"An ornate necklace," you said. "Fancy."

Didn't I just sell a clock? Leon wondered as he pocketed the necklace. Ornate. Why did they say that as if it's its actual name?

"I need more gems...," you mumbled. Your voice was so close Leon couldn't decide in which direction it originated.

But he couldn't see you either way and ignored how heat rose up his neck.

No sooner had he finished with the jewelry, his leg swung out toward an enemy too close for comfort.

"Whoa. Quick moves," you commented.

Quick reflexes, yourself, Leon thought as you guided him upstairs where a small arrow descended painfully.

"Hey!"

With you thoroughly not having it, Leon took down two more guys before finding the figure with a crossbow. One calculated shot and fire cascaded down onto the last guy.

"That's for shooting Leon."

Distractedly, his stomach flipped.

Just grab the supplies and keep going. Leon thought and rapidly ascended a set of stairs that lead atop of the building again.

Torches blazed and darkness loomed. Further ahead and rising from behind a wall stood a large, white-masked infected.

"What the heck is that?" Your voice rose from somewhere ahead.

The large infected roared.

"Another one? You guys are really starting to become a giant pain in my ass." Leon groaned out.

"Crap. Crap. Crap."

. . .

Heart rate rising, you opened the inventory to craft healing herbs as fast as you could.

"That thing is freakin' huge."

Using a mixed herb, you watched Leon's health go into the green. A more comfortable health considering how at that moment you are fearing for Leon's life.

CRASH

You took a couple of firing shots at the hulking infected and watched on in no surprise that it had no effect on it.

"No use! I'm just wasting ammo."

"Okay, okay." You steered Leon off to the right and hopped down.

"Time to move!" You rushed him forward towards another tower.

CRASH

An open gateway welcomed you, but so did a ladder beside it.

"Crap it."

Leon climbed up.

"Please be good. Please be goo-- AH!"

CRASH

Another roar sounded from the infected.

More than anything, you feared that any hit or long ranged attack from that huge thing would knock out your precious Leon completely. So any amount of hope could lay anywhere.

Atop of the tower was a sight that brought a cheer out of you. Yellow barrels, an herb, and a chest.

"Let's go! Thank you."

Leon gathered the necessities. Plus a gem.

Back down, Leon was safe from attacks inside.

Was I already here?

CRASH

"Seriously?" You nearly shouted as Leon took some damage from flying debris. "Leave my boy alone...man."

Huffing, Leon kept moving forward.

You know what? This is good. It's fine. I... THE GUY!

Leon hunched forward indoors.

"Nothing but the finest wares!"

Grabbing your water bottle from the desk, you took a generous swig. It was always good to remember to stay hydrated. You can't take care of Leon if you haven't taken care of yourself.

"Repair time."

Zooming through the options, you had him repair the armor before anything else. Buying First Aid Spray was among the list. The usual routine.

After clicking out of that menu, everything out the gateway sounded much worse than it did when you started playing today.

"Don't get yourself killed now, haha." The hooded figure laughed.

Leon reloaded before you saved the game again.

"Just breathe," you said.

ROAR

Off to the right, in the distance, the huge infected continued throwing parts of the fortress.

"Go, Leon, go."

After crossing the draw bridge, you had Leon crouch behind the wall. He was lucky thus far.

WHAM

You gasped as Leon flew and tumbled off to the left.

"Shit! Sir Ugly's got me beat." Leon pushed himself back up and trotted into the tower before him.

You grimaced when you took a glance at the curved health bar.

"And I totally went the wrong way a minute ago." You groaned, "I'm sorry, Leon."

Rushing Leon, you did your best to have him avoid flying boulders. Technically it wasn't boulders, but still. You were doing your best to find something to use against that behemoth of an infected.

"These guys are really just annoying now," you said as you had Leon kick a walking infected.

Climbing up, you hoped it was a new area for Leon.

Cobblestone flooring lined the room. Some sharp fencing stood ahead.

"Yes! A cannon! Hope it works."

The relief in Leon's voice, no matter the amount, made you smile.

"It better work. That guy's huge. Can we drop a tower on him?"

You shouldn't had been surprised when more infected came after Leon. You really shouldn't have.

"Hey!" You gasped seeing one infected wielding an axe and another one attacking.

BANG

"Next?" Leon sassed both confidently and tiredly.

Seemingly clear, you did the usual: gathering items and set up for what's next.

The cannon went up to the roof for position.

It was the moment. The next answer for the huge obstacle.

CRASH

Leon rushed to the cannon. "Get ready."

"We got it. Come on," you aimed at the large infected.

The cannon fired and disgustingly hit its mark through the infected's face and sent it tumbling over the edge.

"Oh!"

"Adios, you son of a bitch."

"Sí." You aimed the cannon elsewhere.

Wooden doors blasted open.

"All right, open for traffic," Leon brushed back his hair.

You shook your head fondly. "My door's open for traffic," you said with a short laugh.

Pulse lowering more, you eyed Leon.

Still good.

Finding your way down or rather Leon's way down, he headed towards the newly opened doorway.

"We'll get a bit of a break, right?"

No sooner had you asked that a burst of sound hit your eardrums.

Both wooden planks and Leon flew up into the air.

"WAH?" You looked on in horror at the screen. "LEON!"

ROAR

Leon scrambled up and across the huge infected as it tried to hang on to the ledge. Huffing, Leon made it into the tower to safety. Relatively. Then dove forward as the thing reached for him.

"What the crap?" You clutched your chest, heart hammering.

Leon walked forward to the ledge and stated, "Sorry. I've had my fill of you guys."

You exhaled and sunk into your seat for a moment.

And this isn't even the end of the game.

What else was there ahead of Leon?

What other shapes would danger appear in?

Could you get through it successfully?

A large, intact area was laid out below. A courtyard, perhaps.

"Ashley? Where are you?"

"Hopefully somewhere safe enough," you replied.

You eyed the hedges below, but had Leon move on.

Indoors you heard crying and were relieved to see a cutscene.

"Ashley." You cheered softly at the sight of the blonde.

Thank goodness. And...no bad guys?

Stretching your fingers, you listened in on Ashley and Leon's reunion. Totally without getting all teary-eyed.

More than anything, you knew they both needed a cure and a vacation from the terrors they faced. Plus time to recover from whatever was sure to come next.

He's so respectful of distance.

After speaking with one another, the screen faded away from Ashley.

CHAPTER END

"Ooo buddy. I love them so much," you rubbed at your eyes for a couple of moments. "Wrap Ashley in a blanket and hug Leon for a few hours."

Zipping through results, you saved immediately.

"One more chapter wouldn't hurt." You reasoned.

Again, your view started on Leon's back as his phone rang. You weren't quite sure how safe that would be in a more critically dangerous situation.

But you had complete faith in Leon.

You only needed to make sure he reached the end of the game. Preferably without watching him die on screen.

A call from Luis requesting Leon to save him wasn't exactly on your gaming bingo card.

"Looks like we have to rescue la princessa," you grabbed your drink again.

You had a feeling it was going to be a long journey still.

"I'm right with you, Leon. You got this."

. . .

Rushing across the red carpeting towards the very next enemy, Leon's vision became blurry for a moment. A moment too long for him.

"The hell is happening?" Leon took a shot at another cloaked figure attacking him and grabbing for Ashley.

The figure fell, ended. There were still so many appearing from behind corners or from where one chanted.

"Reload, reload, reload." Your stressed voice came from behind him.

Hurting and jogging between furniture, Leon wasn't comforted by the panic in your voice.

But they sure have hell of an aim.

Rounds of gunfire and chanting filled the space. The same evade and destroy. Survive.

Yet for once he wasn't alone. Leon had Ashley to protect and lend a hand. Which was better than the threatening alternative.

"Crap this. His health is low." You said with a huff.

A grenade flew from his grasp before he could fully register having grabbed it.

BOOM

Leon wiped the sweat from his brow.

That's all of them, Leon thought as he raised a walkway. He and Ashley could continue.

"Making progress!" Ashley announced encouragingly.

Leon moved forward. "Look at Miss Positive."

"I am and she needs to be home away from this loco place," you panted.

You're tired? Leon almost said out loud, but he frowned when he swore he heard slouching of water by his ear before a small cough from you. Where are you when we're escaping this hell hole?

"Eh. I'm sweating."

He glanced over to where your voice sounded close by. Mouth open, he almost spoke directly to you. Almost.

Leon had so many questions for you.

Among them: How were you caught in this mess?

Were you in danger?

Was someone making you control Leon?

What else did you know about the infected?

What else did you know about him?

Why would you care so much?

Leon turned yet another corner.

"I'm gonna get dizzy with all of these twists and turns," you murmured.

Hearing the water again, Leon's eyebrows pinched together briefly.

Do they feel alright? Again, Leon considered speaking to you, but that would only frighten Ashley. Speaking to air -- a voice only I can hear? Yeah, definitely not concerning.

Coming up to another shiny gate, Leon heard your quiet sigh.

The hairs on the back of his neck tickled as it warmed. He shook the image of lips out of his mind as soon as it appeared.

He wasn't alone, but he couldn't even truly find you. His constant companion: name unknown, location unknown, and commentary unrestrained.

What happens to them when this mission's complete?

"Leon! Watch out!" Ashley alerted him as a robed infected ran towards him holding a scythe.

"Cool weapon," you stated flatly.

Leon blasted the guy. Then once within reach, ended him easily.

Two more walked closer. One with a wooden shield. Both taken out without much trouble.

"Huh!"

"Okay. Cool. Let's keep going." Your voice sounded less enthusiastic as Leon figured the many turns inside the fancy fortress was indeed tiring you out.

Guess they don't live in a place like this, Leon reasoned to himself. His mind wondering briefly what your home must be like.

The next room they found themselves in wasn't as lit up as the other rooms. Yet no less empty.

"Hey Leon, there's some armor. Bet you could use it like a bulletproof vest." Ashley pointed out playfully.

A lineup of four suits of armor faced the windows.

"Heh. Little old fashioned for my taste."

"Too bad. I think you'd look pretty dashing." She responded.

Leon added no further commentary as he investigated the room.

"He would look dashing," you murmured from somewhere by his head. "But you can't argue with a good cotton blend."

Swallowing down a laugh, Leon silently thanked you for guiding him onward.

"Or sweatpants." You added.

Definitely closer to my taste.

Further ahead, Leon had a feeling something was up. He leapt down where more statues and suits of armor were cast in light by wall-hung torches.

"Ashley, stay up there!"

"OK! Be careful!"

He went around investigating and kicking in a few items.

"She better not get grabbed again," you mumbled. Voice behind him at usual. "There's a lot of stuff to grab..."

Your suspicion made Leon more alert. You had not been wrong about your gut feelings. Even if you didn't clearly state it.

"Leon! The armor!"

Indeed, of all things, he could see after grabbing another piece of a larger puzzle, a suit of armor advanced.

"C'mon, you can't be serious!"

"How many are there?" You voiced as you guided shot after shot.

The infected sprung out from helmets.

"Hah!" Ashley voiced from above as fiery blue light erupted on the floor. "Look! It stopped moving!"

"What did I miss?" You huffed.

"I don't think they like the lantern fire!"

"Oh." You charged Leon in for a good kick. "Can you drop down another?"

Leon pressed the trigger instead of stating the obvious: Ashley could not hear you.

Then again . . .

Did you know Leon could hear you?

Another armored infected crumbled to the floor.

"Hey! Are you OK!?"

Leon ran towards where he had leapt down from.

"Yeah! Nighty-night, knights." Leon quipped as he caught Ashley from her descent and set her on her feet.

Your single laugh came out so fast, you nearly choked.

"You sure you're all right?" Ashley inquired with concern, "You're not burned, are you?"

"Nah, thanks for your help. That really did the trick."

"Hehe."

Leon meant what he said. Any actual help was good and appreciated. No matter the scale or the odds against him.

Why say nothing when one could let their thoughts be known?

Opening another passage via statue puzzle, they moved on along a long red rug runner.

"You don't think they're gonna move, do you?" Ashley asked as they passed more suits of armor posed with weapons.

"Probably not," you answered. "But I might yelp anyway."

Leon nearly shook his head before kicking another vase.

You sure did not mind searching for any little item or collectable that might assist him later.

Passing through another wooden floor, Leon found himself back in the familiar Great Hall.

"Okay...um. Ballroom next," you said before clearly stretching as evident by soft sounds Leon had heard from you before. "Let's check a few things first. And probably save."

A stop by The Merchant and the Typewriter later, Leon set the animal heads onto the statue.

Movement sounded close at hand and further away.

"Leon, the stairs!" Ashley pointed behind him.

"Stay back!" He advised her. Leon freely held up his gun with full control.

In a moment, golden cage bars sprung up around him.

"Muetre." One infected growled.

Eyes on Ashley in direct danger, Leon gripped the cage bars. "Run! Now!"

She took off running as infected were quick to pursue.

Within the gate, an infected swung down at Leon, intending to harm, but he rolled out of the way. Leon begun shooting.

He had full control of his moments.

Dodging a fiery arrow effortlessly, he kept going.

"That's my Leon." Your voice seemed to float around him.

Experience, training, and maybe something more made Leon react with ease as if it was all well rehearsed. Using what he had helped him survive.

. . .

This Ashley POV is stressing me out, you thought. All this ticking. It's too much pressure.

Ashley climbed out of the elegant lift and headed straight for a gated doorway with her blue flame lantern.

"Leon!"

"Ashley? Are you OK!?"

My boy!

"Hang on, I'll figure something out!" She called out.

Meanwhile you were regretting not taking a break earlier. You didn't want to mess up helping Ashley.

More ticking.

Louder ticking.

This is going to take a minute.

With Ashley determined to save Leon, you guided her to clues.

And an exact time. Wow. Cool.

"Maybe..."

You smiled. On the job training, Ashley. You got this.

Ticking continued.

Clock arms whirled.

You yawned quietly.

The tall clock chimed.

"I know I saw another clock like this one..."

Sliding itself, a hidden doorway was revealed. Beyond was . . .

Spooky, you thought at the sight of billowing curtains and a steep staircase leading down.

Just beyond the foot of the stairs and an abrupt corner came another suit of armor.

Ashley screamed as the blue light within the lantern she carried stopped it mid strike.

"It's all good, nice and slow..."

You got this girl.

Another hidden doorway.

It made you wonder how many normal doors there were versus hidden ones. Then you would have to take into account ones that required pieces like a puzzle instead of using a cranking mechanism.

Another suit?

"Get lost!"

Move girl!

You kept hey moving quickly as rapid moving metal clanked on pursuit.

"Don't look back. Don't look back."

Okay. Okay. Move. Move. Move. You guided her around another corner and door. Finally!

The second clock stood in the semi darkness.

This place is expensive!

Ticking. Chimes.

A secret stairwell that looks really creepy with the swinging blue lantern!

Following the red carpet runner, Ashley found an elevator. Among a bunch of antiques.

"Come on. Come on!"

It's old. We're lucky it works, you thought as you stretched your legs. And-- crap.

Using the blue light, Ashley bravely stopped the advance of more suited infected before safely getting into the lift.

"Oh, thank god."

I'm here too. You waved to her back.

"I am done with armor."

How about a nice suit and tie?

Beyond the lift, more antiques occupied a larger room.

"Didn't I just say I was done!?"

Oh, no.

A bell is sorts sounded with a pull of a rope and the music went up through your earbuds.

Crap! She can't fight!

If you weren't sweating before, you sure were then.

Infected wiggled in the armor.

"This sucks!" Her scared tone made your heart clench.

Yet there was a puzzle to solve instead of a simple door to open with a handle. This was hard for her! She wasn't trained for that.

"Stay away!"

You rushed Ashley through the space, much too aware of how frightened she was to be there alone. All the metal clanking, the infected slithering, and music rising had your pulse going.

Last one!

The gate slid up.

Ashley ran. Across dust covered rug and stairs until she reached an all stone area. Pretty dark too.

Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if you had to fight in there. Then again, this was Ashley. She didn't fight, but she was a survivor.

You were proud.

"The heck..."

A lantern...light puzzle? You squinted at the screen. Okay then. Uh. Is Leon just waiting? Like, I wouldn't mind him waiting at home here. Hehehe.

Puzzle solving commenced shortly. Thankfully.

Obtained Salazar Family Insignia.

Right. Fancy. You leaned towards the screen for a moment.

A blue flame extinguished.

"No, no... No, don't go out!"

What? No--

Dark armor appeared ahead.

"Again!? I've had enough of this!" Ashley bolted.

She was defenseless. Ashley had no armor of her own.

Unprotected and running for her life.

With each step along the hall, another suit came alive.

You needed to help her.

RUN GIRL!

By far, having to protect a character who was to be rescued felt alarming. The pressure to not mess up was high. Ridiculously high.

You had her run, crunch, and maneuver through "frozen" knights with every hope it wouldn't be a jump scare. Or worse, the end of Ashley's turn.

No more blue light shined ahead. Yet more suits of armor were ready as you guided her quickly and mentally cursed the elevator until it shut protectively with Ashley inside.

That was close.

Ashley panted, scared. But alive.

Until she rightfully screamed a short time later.

How is she supposed to get by? This poor girl!

Weave around, check map, run, crouch, and move.

Move, she did after, hopefully, one last puzzle piece was placed.

"All right."

Cutscene! Where's my boy? Man...

"Leon!"

"Ashley?" Leon called from within the caged area. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah! Give me a sec, I'll get you out."

Might need good therapy... Oh, gross... You watched her grab a key from a hand. No, oh. Kay!

"Hey! Try this!"

Leon grabbed the key she tossed and looked up in question. "Can you make it down? I can catch you."

That's a drop. You grimaced at the distance between the balcony of the floor above Leon's.

"Yeah, I think so."

Girl?

Leon nodded silently. Handsomely.

Then, of course, because she was out of your sight and Leon's, some red-hooded goon grabbed her.

What is that creepy guy?

"Ashley!"

Firing off shots on his own, Leon's attempts only made the goon take one glance at him over the shoulder before continuing on its way.

"Oh, crap." You exhaled. "This could be worse."

"Shit!" Leon growled.

"Oh, Leon..."

CHAPTER END

"Save, please."

Back at the main menu, you let yourself relax. Letting all the tension go.

Sometimes playing video games felt like a workout. Well, some literally were.

"Didn't expect to play as Ashley," you took off your earbuds and set them aside. "And now we have to find her again. And Leon's health should be fine."

Goodness, were you emotionally involved with the characters. You had ahead put in more than a few hours before this gaming session; so it put to reason you would feel something.

Perhaps you felt something a little more, a little stronger, for a certain agent you spent the most time playing with. Maybe a lot.

"Until next time, Leon."

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.)

☕ Coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.

~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Leon Scott Kennedy Tags: @bumblebeesfromvenus @c4rl40n4 @d333athw1sh

[erikcampbellsprettywife]

“Ink Me, Baby.”

Part 4 – Inframammary Tattoo

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into Erik’s tattoo shop like you owned the damn lease. Heads turned like always when that bell chimed—but this time, even the co-workers blinked twice.

Because damn.

Black lace mesh heels tapped against the floor in soft, deadly clacks, each step echoing like a countdown. Your legs were wrapped in sharp fishnet diamonds that glimmered slightly under the dim shop lights, like little traps stitched straight onto your skin. That micro leather skirt? Practically indecent—slick, high-cut, clinging to your hips like it owed you rent and was already two months late. And your top? A sheer, gothic daydream of a blouse—bell sleeves, high neck, and jet-black lace that hinted at the silhouette underneath but left nothing to the imagination if the light hit you just right. Tiny buttons undone just so. Collarbones peeking. Your hair was beautiful, it swayed with you. Not a lick of makeup. Not even gloss. Just your pretty colored skin, glowing like an expensive chandelier under candlelight—dewy, soft, and criminally pretty.

You walked in like you were here to either bless the shop… or destroy it.

Bag of greasy fast food in one hand. Large soda in the other. You were the definition of I came to cause problems and feed my man.

Erik looked up from his station—hands gloved, lip piercing halfway in on a client—and the second his eyes landed on you, his brows arched just slightly. He didn’t say anything right away. Just took in the whole look, slow and steady, blue eyes tracing from your heels up to your face with the tiniest twitch of a smile like it physically pained him how hot you looked.

The door softly automatically closed behind you. “Why’s everyone lookin’ like I just strutted in here naked?”

“You might as well have,” Erik muttered, dragging the piercing needle through the guy’s lip with expert precision, his voice flat—but his smirk wasn’t. “You’re lucky this isn’t a kirk.”

The guy in his chair turned slightly and blinked at you, his voice garbled through the lip clamp. “This is your girlfriend?”

Erik didn’t even pause. “Nah, this is just some chick that keeps showing up dressed like sin and feeding me like a stray.” He shrugged. “It’s working, unfortunately.”

You gave a single, sweet, mocked gasp.

The guy blinked again, confused.

“Don’t worry,” you said to the poor pierced man, waving your soda. “He flirts with everyone. It’s part of his customer service voice.”

Erik groaned softly. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

The client snorted as Erik finished the piercing and gave him the usual care spiel. Once the guy paid and shuffled out mumbling ‘damn, she really bad though,’ Erik finally peeled off his gloves and turned to face you fully.

“And what happened to all your pink?” he said, eyes narrowed slightly, that smirk tugging at the edge of his lip. “You look like a Wednesday Addams fever dream.”

You slumped the food bag dramatically onto his counter and took a long, slow, loud sip of your drink. Slurp. “Oh, so I’m not allowed to be your dark angel now?”

He leaned on his elbow, watching you lazily. “Never said that. Just… didn’t expect you to show up looking like you bite people for a living.”

“I do bite people for a living.”

That made him laugh under his breath, tongue brushing over his bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” you mused, resting your hip on the edge of the counter, cleavage just slightly visible through the lace. “Don’t you like..? How do I put this… alternative girls?”

“That’s my style,” he said, stealing a fry from the bag. “Not my type, babe.”

Your stomach fluttered. Stupid, girly, chaotic butterflies. The good kind.

So you leaned closer, lashes fluttering. “Anyways. I brought you food. I expect eternal devotion in return.”

“I already give you eternal devotion,” he said, mouth full of fries. “That’s why I didn’t kick you out when you sent me thirteen stupid-ass memes at three in the morning.”

“They were wholesome.”

“They gave me a migraine.”

“Shut up, you saved two of them.”

“I saved one.”

“You saved two. I saw. You even sent one to Bobby.”

He scowled softly. “Snitch.”

“You’re welcome.”

Erik pulled out the burger and took a bite, eyeing your outfit again from the corner of his eye like he couldn’t not. “I like the grunge,” he mumbled through a bite. “But I like you in pink better.”

You blinked. “Oh?”

He just shrugged, casual, cool, chewing slowly. “You shine different when you're glossy and glittery. Like a pretty little gem. All sparkly and obnoxious.” He booped your nose lightly with a ketchup-covered finger and went right back to eating.

You literally almost combusted. Like, your heart did a full cartwheel in your chest and your spine felt fizzy. Your pupils practically morphed into pretty pink hearts on the spot—wide, dilated, love-struck. You looked at him like he’d just told you your birth chart was perfect, your credit score was 850, and he canceled all your red-flag exes from the timeline.

Your stomach? In knots. Your brain? Mush. Your soul? Wearing a tutu and doing pirouettes like a majestical ballerina.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you breathed, voice a little squeaky with how violently you were holding back a full-body reaction.

You looked down at your lace-covered chest like you needed to make sure your heart was still inside your body and hadn’t just glitter- bombed out onto the floor.

You softly wipe the ketchup off your nose.

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m gonna cry.”

“Please don’t. I’m eating.”

You smiled so hard your face hurt and slid onto his rolling stool like it was your throne. “Well. I’m here for another tattoo, booboo.”

Erik paused mid-chew. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He sighed, eyes closed. “I just did your back. Literally like a week ago.”

“That’s such a hyperbole statement to claim. Besides, I tipped you like a desperate stripper.”

“That you did,” he muttered. “Where this time?”

You pointed. “Like, under my tit.”

Erik squinted. “An inframammary tat… today?”

“Yup,” you said, kicking your legs innocently. “I even shaved for you.”

He stared. “It’s gonna hurt.”

You smirked. “Kinky.”

He choked a little on his drink.

“Jesus Christ, you freak” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I don’t have another client till three.”

You stripped off your lace top like it was nothing. No shame. “If you weren’t my boyfriend, this would be so wildly inappropriate.”

Saying as if he hasn’t recently just pierced my nips.

“You are wildly inappropriate.”

“And you love it.”

He tossed you a pair of petal-shaped nipple covers. “Stick these on. And please don’t flirt with me while I’m sanitizing the machine.”

You slapped them on dramatically, topless now except for your leather skirt and heels, sitting cutely like a statue in a museum of hot messes. Erik didn’t even pretend not to look.

“Eyes up, Campbell.” You scoffed at the perv.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, chuckling as he prepped the stencil.

He wiped the skin clean, leaned in close, and pressed the transfer gently against the side of your ribcage. The chill of the stencil solution made you arch a little, which earned a quick glance.

“Careful,” you whispered as he adjusted the placement. “You might fall in love while shading that butterfly.”

He paused. “Too late.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

He smirked and didn’t answer.

The machine buzzed to life.

He began to tattoo.

And you? You laid on your side, comfortable on that tattoo bed, soft breaths falling from your lips as the needle hit your skin. It burned, but in that way you liked.

That pretty pain.

And not to mention his hand placements, he was so comfortable, sitting on his rolling stool while leaning into your body, it made it easier anyways.

It went on like that for nearly two hours—banter, bickering, teasing.

“I’m bored,” you groaned mid-way through. “Tell me about your childhood trauma.”

“No.”

“Tell me about your favorite band.”

“You’ll roast me.”

“I already roasted your band poster.”

“That is my band.”

“Exactly.”

He sighed. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“You’re lucky I feed you.”

You moaned once—dramatically—just to mess with him.

He groaned. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Sounding like that. This is a public space.”

“Oh, please. I’m literally your girlfriend. You pierced my nipples.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to flirt while I’m stabbing you.”

“But I want to flirt while you’re stabbing me,” you pouted sweetly, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. Your big, starry doe eyes shimmered up at him—all soft, glowy mischief and natural pretty charm, framed by long dark lashes that you didn’t even have to curl. You were made to get away with things.

He knew what you were doing, that thing you did with your pretty eyes that always got him hard.

Erik didn’t even look up—just shook his head with the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth, biting back how badly he wanted to kiss you instead of tattoo you. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, dabbing gently around the stencil. “You need therapy.”

You smirked, chin tilted. “You’re literally giving me permanent trauma right now. This is therapy.”

“God help me,” he muttered again, finishing the last little heart with a careful swipe of ink and a flick of his wrist, like you were a living canvas and he was trying not to lose his mind over it.

When he wiped it clean and wrapped the area, you sat up slow, braless and glowing.

He admired it.

You admired him.

“Gorgeous.”

“The tattoo or me?” you asked.

He looked at you—eyes low, voice rough. “Both.”

You slipped your top back on and flopped up straight on the client chair like you were made of silk. “Will you rub lotion on me later?”

“No.”

“Even if I pout?”

“...Maybe.”

“Even if I cry?”

“...Ugh. Yes.”

You grinned. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

You kissed his cheek, stole a fry, ruffled his messy hair, and looked at him like he was the only boy who ever mattered.

“I’m still your goth sugar baby now.”

“‘Pink’ sugar baby,” he corrected, popping the last bite of burger into his mouth. “Goth’s temporary. That obnoxious glitter in your soul? That’s forever.”

You beamed. “I’m glad you love it.”

And Erik just shook his head like he was doomed.

“God help me,” he muttered, wiping his hands. “I really fucking do.”

Then he looked at you—really looked at you.

Still perched half on his client chair, legs crossed at the knee, shirt barely pulled back on over your braless chest, the bandage peeking out beneath the hem. Your hair was a little messy from where you’d flipped it back too many times, your lips slightly parted, skin flushed from the needle, and your eyes—

God, your eyes.

Big, glossy, pretty things—starlit and full of trouble. Your lashes fluttered like they were made of velvet. That soft, slow smile spread across your lips like honey melting in the heat.

He stood and stepped closer.

Didn’t say a word. Just reached for your waist, guiding you off the chair gently, his palm splaying warm and possessive against your hip as he tugged you closer until your bodies were nearly flush. You tilted your chin up, lashes lowering just a little.

“Hi,” you whispered, voice all sugared silk.

He huffed a soft laugh through his nose, eyes scanning your face like he needed to memorize every detail, every sparkle of light across your cheekbones.

Then—slowly, finally—his hand slid up to your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone, fingers grazing the underside of your chin. His touch was reverent. Gentle. Worshipful.

“It’s actually kinda insane how much I like you.” he said, almost under his breath.

And then he kissed you.

Not fast. Not greedy.

Slow.

Like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment, and this was it.

His lips met yours in a soft, almost cautious press—warm and deliberate. He kissed you like he was figuring it out, savoring every second. His fingers curled at the back of your neck, drawing you closer. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders instinctively, pulling him in until there was no space left between you.

The kiss deepened.

His mouth parted against yours, the slow drag of his bottom lip catching slightly as your noses bumped, and then again, more certain this time. His tongue brushed the seam of your lips and you sighed, parting them willingly, melting into the taste of him—mint, salt, a hint of spice from the fries, and something so Erik it made your stomach twist.

He groaned low in his throat when you nipped his bottom lip, barely there, but it wrecked him.

You giggled softly between kisses. “Thought you weren’t the soft type, Campbell.”

He kissed you again, firmer this time, like he needed to prove you wrong.

Then pulled back just slightly, lips still brushing yours as he whispered, “Shut up.”

But his smile was real. Soft. Crooked.

And when he kissed you again—one hand fisted in your hair, the other sliding low on your back—you felt it all: the hunger, the heat, the tension that’d been building since the second you walked in wearing lace and leather and that damn smug smirk.

You kissed him like you meant it.

And he kissed you like he was already yours.

Your fingers stayed curled in the front of his shirt, knuckles brushing warm against the chain at his collarbone. You were still close when you finally pulled back, just barely, noses brushing. Your lashes fluttered and you blinked up at him with those big, pretty eyes—doe-eyed and dangerous.

Then, like a sweet little afterthought, you gave him one more kiss. A soft, slow peck. Then another. And one more, right at the corner of his mouth, your lips barely brushing his skin like a sigh.

His hand stayed firm on your hip, but his smirk came back lazy, lip a little red and kiss-bitten.

“Mm,” you hummed, smiling like a devil in lace. “Can I give you a tattoo now?”

Erik blinked.

“...Excuse me?”

You shrugged innocently, pulling back just enough to plop your cute ass right back into his rolling stool like you were about to ruin his life. “What? I brought food, got stabbed, kissed you passionately—I deserve to ink a little heart on you or something.”

He stared at you, equal parts horrified and amused. “You are not touching my machine.”

“But I’m so gentle,” you teased, batting your lashes. “I’ll be so sweet, Erik. I swear.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I could do a little butterfly,” you pouted, voice sing-song. “Or your name in pink cursive. Ooh! Or a Hello Kitty with fangs—”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“C’monnnn,” you pleaded, reaching for the tattoo gun dramatically. “Just a lil' dot? A sprinkle of chaos?”

Erik pointed at you like he was about to lecture a toddler. “If you so much as breathe on my setup, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

You tilted your head, smiling wider. “Handcuff me while you’re at it.”

“…Unbelievable.”

“And yet you’re still in love with me.”

Erik sighed, deeply, and muttered, “God help me.”

But the way he leaned down and kissed your temple? Yeah. You were totally winning.

Twenty Minutes Later

You were fully straddling Erik’s lap now—bare thighs warm against his jeans, his shirt somewhere on the floor, and your manicured hands steady as you held the tattoo machine like it was your own personal wand of chaos.

He sat leaned back in his client chair, head tilted lazily against the headrest, abs flexed just enough to distract you if you weren’t in full artist mode. His nipple ring caught the light, glinting silver just below where your tattoo stencil rested—right above his pec, high enough to make it cheeky, low enough to make it dangerous.

And you?

You were in deep, sparkly focus. Starry eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted, the tips of your lashes kissing your eyebrows as you leaned in close and focused, needle buzzing like a secret between you. Your tongue poked out a little in concentration—so unfairly adorable it almost distracted him more than the needle did.

His hands were tangled loosely in your hair, fingertips softly stroking your scalp like he was grounding himself with every motion. His rings brushed your neck every so often, cool and comforting.

You’d chosen a delicate crescent moon, turned just right above his heart. And tucked along the curve? Three tiny bats—each one barely larger than your pinky nail. Perfectly spaced, dainty little wings outstretched like they were in mid-flight. It was witchy, moody, just the right mix of spooky and sweet.

“This is gonna look so good,” you murmured softly, not looking up. “You’re gonna thank me later when someone compliments your sexy bat titty.”

Erik let out a low chuckle, thumb still idly brushing behind your ear. “My what?”

“Bat titty,” you repeated sweetly, tapping the skin just above his piercing. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m never saying that out loud.”

“You will when you look in the mirror and feel hot as hell.”

He hummed, smirking lazily under you. “I already feel hot as hell. You’re on my lap in fishnets.”

You grinned but didn’t lose focus, angling the machine slightly to finish one wing. “Aw. You’re flirting with your tattoo artist.”

“I’m in love with my tattoo artist.”

“Yeah, well,” you whispered, glancing up through your lashes just once, “she’s dangerously talented and kind of a hazard.”

“Sounds like my type.”

You went quiet again, finishing the last delicate swoop of a wing. The buzz stopped. You gently wiped the area, leaning back just a little to admire your work.

And Erik?

He was still watching you.

Like you were the art.

You slid off his lap with a satisfied little wiggle, careful not to bump the fresh ink. Your leather caught the light as you stood, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn that was far too smug for someone who just tattooed a crescent moon and bats above her boyfriend’s nipple.

Erik exhaled through his nose—amused, wrecked, and still a little dazed-looking—as he reached for the black tee he’d flung over the back of the stool earlier. He slipped it over his head with zero ceremony, tugging it down in that lazy way that made the hem catch slightly on his waistband before falling into place. The fabric hugged the slight taper of his waist, hiding the view you’d just spent twenty minutes worshipping like it was a damn Greek statue.

A tragedy, honestly.

His abs weren’t even that defined in the current lighting—soft shadows and silver piercing glinting just barely through the cotton—but still, the man looked like a forbidden snack from the back aisle of Hot Topic and you were starving.

You took a moment to watch him while he moved around his station. He tossed y’all’s used gloves into the waste bin, sanitized the table and machine like muscle memory, and wrapped the fresh ink over his chest with practiced ease. His hands worked quickly, slipping tools into drawers and rearranging ink caps, cool and quiet as ever.

Even now, even cleaning, he moved like something unbothered and wild—fluid and confident and full of quiet power. Your chaos. Your calm. Your favorite walking contradiction.

Finally, stretching his arms just once, cracking his neck. “Neck tattoo client’s coming in like… five minutes.”

“Yikes,” you winced. “Good luck with that. Neck people are always so dramatic.”

“Says the girl who just got stabbed under her tit and moaned.”

“Those weren’t moans,” you smirked, snatching your bag. “Those were emotional gasps. There’s a difference.”

He gave you a look like he was resisting the urge to pull you back into his lap again. But instead, he leaned down and kissed you once—quick, messy, warm—right on your gloss-less lips.

You smiled against his mouth and pulled back just slightly, brushing some hair off his face. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He nodded, blue eyes locked on yours. “Yeah. Text me when you're home.”

You booped his nose one last time for good measure. “Only if you promise to dream about me.”

He rolled his eyes, grinning. “I always do.”

And with that, you swayed toward the door, heels clicking lightly, fishnets whispering against your thighs, makeup-free face glowing like the world’s most dangerous angel.

The bell jingled behind you.

And Erik?

He watched the door long after it closed. Already counting the hours.

[mad-hunts]

i still 100% believe that barton would take care of the eraserhead baby like a rich person would take care of their chihuahua that hangs out in their purse all the time... and by that, i mean he is PAMPERING that baby!! and just in case any of you don't know what the eraserhead baby is, he will be below the cut in oil painting form (made by moonbaby1995 on reddit).

but before i show you all the amazing painting — because barton has a particular affection for things that might be viewed as grotesque to others, or at least unpleasant to look at, this may be a very niche and also unpopular opinion here BUT get victor frankenstein away from his monster.

+ even though barton is certainly not the best father to say the least, he would literally adore that giant of a man and bring him to a therapist who does play therapy BC honestly. i've heard that it can really help adults process their trauma and also for those who find it hard to vocalize their emotions and/or what they're feeling, it's also good for that as well. but that's just my two cents on a topic that none of you asked about though i shall force you to learn about anyways LOLLL

[ulfhrafnx]

have i talked about lira being insanely clairvoyant and clairsentient. she just knows / senses things about people and even if she may not always know the exact details of what's to come for them , how a life changing event may play out , she knows when other's have ' a touch of destiny ' to them.

it , in part, comes with the territory of being a harbinger of end times, but also runs in her blood as her grandmother is a seer. she'll rarely tell you outright because her family suffered the consequences first hand of someone not liking the future that was laid out for them ( *cough*ODIN*cough* ) and losing their gd mind doing everything in their power to escape it. so no , she keeps her intuition to herself.

however, if lira and talin suddenly appear to you out of the blue chances are something detrimental to your storyline is about to happen. mass death for example. as they're most drawn to events where they can feast on the dead.

talin is a valravn and that's his main m.o. lira has become an agent of vengeance and will imbue anyone wronged with the strength of a berserker to seek the retribution they deserve. it's therapeutic for her to be able to help other's right the wrongs that she couldn't in her own life.

[thesweetestofdreams]

black cat confessions

poly!marauders x reader

warnings: patching up bruised knuckles very pg allusions to violence

a/n Times are tough so please enjoy a sleepy drabble with a slightly whimsical reader who will always defend her boyfriends

“Hello gorgeous, where’ve you been?” James asked as you came into the boys’ dorm. It wasn’t like you to be so late, unless of course a portrait got to talking. You could never turn down a good story, no matter how many times you heard it. 

“Detention,” you said. This garnered the attention of all three of your boyfriends. Remus set down his book, he had been trying to read instead of worrying about you, and Sirius ceased spinning his wand in his hand. James sat up from where he was laying on his bed. Oblivious to their shock you dropped your bag onto the floor.

“Detention?” James asked at the same time Sirius said “You’re joking.”

“Yeah,” you said, sounding almost as confused as they were. 

“May we ask why?” said Remus abandoning his book. 

“Well Barty said that black cats were bad luck, which is rather rude.” You fell onto Remus’s unmade bed, arms flopping on either side of you. 

“And how did that turn into detention for you?” Sirius asked as patient as could be, a trait reserved almost especially for you.

You rolled onto your stomach yawning as you rested your chin on your hand. “I told him that was hardly true but he wouldn’t give it up.” You were interrupted with another yawn. “Then he said the worst bad luck was black dogs. You could never be bad luck, Siri.”

Sirius could pretty much feel himself melting. James, as endearing as you were, was practically on the edge of his seat ready to find out what on earth their sweet girl could do to warrant detention. Remus was getting tired just looking at you and he had to fight the urge to join you where you lay.

“Well then he started talking about werewolves and of course he had nothing nice to say and he was looking right at me, so I punched him.” Just like before you were completely oblivious to the shock your statement caused. 

“You punched him?” Remus asked, and despite your tired eyes being closed you could hear the smile in his voice. The boys shared a conspiratorially prideful look. 

“He wasn’t mad. I think he thought it was funny.” 

“Sounds like he had it coming,” Sirius said, fully in agreement. 

“Professor Slughorn was mad though,” you mused.

“Merlin, what I would have given to see his face.” James laughed at just the thought. 

“I bet he went red head to toe,” Sirius added. You smiled in tired amusement. The sound of their laughs made your chest buzz, warm and full. 

“Punching people hurts,” you said looking down at your hand.

The energy of the room shifted as the amusement died down. Remus was already making his way to you, pulling your hand into his lap as he sat on the bed next to you. You didn’t fight him. He tsked at the sight of your knuckles and your fingers were dry and cracked. He turned them over in his hands ever so gently. 

“Slughorn made me wash all of the potion bottles,” you offered in explanation.

James wordlessly pulled a small first aid kit from Remus’s nightstand, while Sirius grabbed a set of pajamas they kept for you. Caring for eachother was a well practiced routine. It was an achingly good feeling to be taken care of. 

Remus spread dittany over your knuckles and any deep cracks, careful never to press too hard. James pulled off your shoes, and Sirius turned down the lights grumbling softly to himself when James reminded him of an early morning quidditch match. 

“You can sleep with me then,” Remus whispered loudly, teasing as he softly wrapped a bandage over your knuckles.

“Now this is just torturous,” Sirius groaned from his bed. James threw a pillow at him across the room. “I’m keeping this.” 

After some coaxing from Remus, you summoned enough willpower to stand and change into your pajamas. From across the room, you saw James dive into bed with Sirius who held the pillow above his head. James pinched at Sirius's waist earning a withering look from him that quickly dissolved into lazy smiling kisses. 

Finally you were lying in bed with your head on Remus’s chest. You could hear his heartbeat thump beneath you, the steady rhythm and warmth lulling you to sleep better than any lullaby. You weren’t helped by the slow circles he drew into your back. 

“Thanks for defending me, brave girl,” Remus said into your hair. 

Fighting a yawn you said, “you would have done the same for me.”

He would have done worse for you, and he would spend the rest of everyday grateful for the love he’s found.

[momochiiee-reblogs]

It really is amazing how suddenly all the mutuals I had on the bird app are reappearing here LOL

Welcome my sweeties, I've missed you all 🥺💖

[chrissssssmut]

Can you do the seven half-sisters thing again? With him going into the army before college, changing his appearance (becoming more handsome and looking more like a grown man), height and posture, even his voice , which was no longer that voice of a teenager

Bad Brother, Worst Sisters

Yandere w/ Smut

Yandere Ryujin, Lisa, Jo Yuri, Kazuha, Choerry, Rei and Miyeon x Male Reader

AN: Last story for this week! I haven't slept if anyone's wondering hahaha, I was too busy trying to finish this. This story was done by me but i was helped by a dear friend of mine.

Enjoy this one! I will be sleeping now hahaha XD

(God this lineup is so goated tbh)

The announcement of your enlistment was met with indifference. Your step-sisters barely reacted.

Ryujin was slouched on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She barely spared you a glance. “Cool. Have fun in boot camp or whatever.”

Lisa chuckled, twirling a strand of her hair. “Gonna get all buff, huh? Maybe you’ll actually become useful.”

Jo Yuri shrugged. “It’s not like you had a choice. Every guy has to go.”

Kazuha tilted her head, expression blank. “When do you leave?”

You sighed. “Tomorrow morning.”

Choerry smiled, but there was no warmth. “Well, don’t die or anything.”

Rei simply nodded. Miyeon muttered a quick “Good luck.”

That was it. No tears, no sentimental goodbyes—just a few passive comments before they returned to whatever they were doing.

It wasn’t surprising. You had always been more of an outsider in the family. Your step-sisters never went out of their way to be cruel, but they weren’t exactly warm either. They lived in their own little world, and you were just... there.

You left without looking back.

Months of grueling training changed you. When you stepped through the front door, the air in the house felt different.

Silence.

Then—

Ryujin appeared first. She stopped in her tracks, eyes scanning you up and down. Her usual lazy smirk was gone. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Lisa leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers gripping a glass of water so tightly it might crack. “Holy shit.”

Jo Yuri tilted her head, brows furrowing. “No way… that’s you?”

Kazuha stepped forward cautiously. “Your voice…” she murmured, as if hearing it felt unreal.

Rei swallowed, her gaze locked onto your face. “You look so… different.”

Miyeon placed a hand on her chest, a slow smile spreading on her lips. “You’ve grown into such a fine man, haven’t you?”

Choerry bit her lip, her gaze dark and unreadable. “And we just let you leave looking like that?”

You laughed awkwardly, setting your duffel bag down. “Well, yeah. It’s still me.”

But their stares didn’t waver. They were studying you—absorbing every inch of the new you.

That first night back, you could feel their eyes on you. Whenever you moved around the house, they were there. Watching. Observing. If you passed by the living room, one of them would be lounging nearby, pretending to be on their phone. If you went into the kitchen, you’d suddenly feel a presence behind you, too close for comfort.

The air was thick with something unspoken. Their casual indifference was gone, replaced with something else entirely.

At first, their behavior seemed harmless.

Lisa, who used to tease you relentlessly, started making excuses to be close. “You work out now, huh?” she mused, hands gliding over your arms. “I wonder how strong you’ve gotten.”

Ryujin, usually distant, started dropping into your room unannounced. She’d sit on your bed, stretching, acting like she belonged there. “I’m just bored,” she’d say. But the way her eyes lingered on you said otherwise.

Jo Yuri was the worst. She had always been a little playful, but now? Her touches lingered too long. Her words were too sweet. “You missed us, didn’t you? I can tell.”

Kazuha started bringing you snacks, feeding you piece by piece with her fingers. “Eat up. You need to keep your strength.” She always insisted on watching you eat, her fingers grazing your lips whenever she fed you.

Rei always found ways to touch you. A hand on your wrist. A brush against your neck. “You’re warmer now.”

Miyeon and Choerry started arguing over who got to sit next to you at dinner. It was eerie, how quickly things shifted. Miyeon would pull your chair closer to hers, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, whispering things too soft for the others to hear. Choerry, on the other hand, had a more aggressive approach—cutting your food for you, feeding you like a child, her smile twitching whenever someone interrupted.

The nights were the worst. You started locking your door. It didn’t help. Some nights, you swore you heard the doorknob turning. Other nights, you could hear soft whispers right outside your room. Once, you woke up to find your window slightly open, even though you were certain you had locked it.

The suffocation became unbearable. You told your parents, but they dismissed it. “They’re just happy you’re home.”

So you made the decision. You moved out.

The day you left, their reactions were… unsettling.

Lisa stood by the door, arms crossed, but her nails dug into her skin. “You’re seriously leaving?”

Ryujin scoffed. “Tch. Whatever.” But her eyes burned with something dangerous.

Jo Yuri stepped close, whispering, “You’ll come back. You always will.”

Kazuha simply stared, her grip tightening on the edge of your shirt before she let go.

Rei smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.”

Miyeon kissed your cheek. “We’ll be waiting.”

Choerry didn’t say a word. She just watched you walk away.

Life in your apartment was peaceful. You could finally breathe. But something felt wrong. No messages, no calls. No sign of them at all.

Until one night.

You unlocked your door after a long day at college. The lights were on.

And Lisa was sitting on your couch, waiting.

She smiled. “Hey, baby bro. Long time no see.”

Your stomach twisted. “Lisa? How did you get in?”

She stretched, making herself comfortable. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t have a spare key?”

What the hell?

You exhaled. “Alright, you visited. Now leave.”

Lisa pouted. “That’s not how you treat family, is it?”

Still, you sighed and decided to make dinner. Maybe if you played along, she’d leave faster.

You were halfway through preparing food when—

A hand covered your mouth.

Darkness.

When you woke up, your wrists were tied to your steel desk. The dim glow of your bedside lamp cast eerie shadows on the walls.

Lisa sat across from you, smiling. “You really shouldn’t have left, baby brother.”

Anger flared through you. “Lisa, what the hell is this?! Let me go!”

The door creaked open.

Six figures stepped inside, their eyes gleaming.

Miyeon smiled sweetly. “You really thought you could leave your family behind?”

Ryujin scoffed. “Dumbass.”

Choerry giggled, tracing a finger along your wrist. “You’re ours. No matter what.”

The air felt thick, suffocating, as the seven of them closed in around you. Your breath hitched when fingers—soft, lingering, possessive—brushed against your skin. One by one, they reached for you, tracing slow patterns over your arms, your chest, your throat. Every touch was deliberate. Every gaze was heavy with something dark, something dangerous.

"You shouldn't have left," Miyeon whispered, her lips ghosting near your ear.

"Bad boys need to be punished," Ryujin added, nails lightly scraping down your forearm.

Lisa’s fingers trailed along your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her smirk. "You really thought we'd just let you go?"

Jo Yuri exhaled a soft laugh, her hands pressing against your shoulders, keeping you in place. "You belong to us, baby brother."

Kazuha was quiet, but her grip on your wrist tightened, her touch possessive, unyielding. Rei leaned in next, her breath warm against your cheek. "Even if we’re siblings… it doesn’t change a thing."

Choerry giggled, her fingers brushing down your chest, teasing. "And tonight, we’ll finally make sure you understand that.”

As they slowly had their way with you—fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt, lips brushing against your skin, teeth grazing your earlobe—you felt your body tense, heat crawling up your spine. Every touch was deliberate, every action meant to remind you that resistance was futile.

Lisa chuckled against your neck, pressing a kiss just below your jaw. “Look at you… pretending you don’t like this.”

Ryujin’s fingers lazily traced down your chest, her smirk dark. “Your body’s shaking. Is it fear… or excitement?”

Jo Yuri giggled, hands gliding over your shoulders, her grip tightening when you flinched. “You can’t run, baby brother. Not from us.”

Then, Kazuha moved in. Unlike the others, she didn’t tease or hesitate. Her hands slid up to your face, her touch firm, claiming. Before you could protest, she pulled you in—her lips crashing against yours in a deep, breath-stealing kiss.

You tried to recoil, tried to move away, but it was impossible. Your wrists were still bound to the table, leaving you trapped as she kissed you like she had all the time in the world. Her tongue parted your lips effortlessly, tasting you, owning you.

Rei sighed, watching with dark amusement. “So unfair, Kazuha��� You got to him first.”

Choerry leaned in closer, her voice sickly sweet. “Don’t worry… We have all night.”

Kazuha’s hands were everywhere—trailing down your arms, gripping your waist, pressing into your skin like she wanted to memorize every inch of you. Yet, her lips never once left yours, moving with a slow, deliberate hunger that made your head spin.

Without breaking the kiss, her fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, parting the fabric with agonizing slowness. A shiver ran through you as cool air met your skin, but the warmth of her touch quickly followed, tracing along your torso. Then, her fingers drifted lower, playing with the belt of your jeans, teasing, testing.

The others didn’t move. They simply watched.

Ryujin leaned back with a smirk, arms crossed as her eyes drank in your struggle. “Getting shy now? That’s cute.”

Lisa tilted her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Don’t fight it. You knew this was coming.”

Miyeon exhaled softly, eyes dark with something unreadable. “He looks so perfect like this… vulnerable.”

Jo Yuri giggled, resting her chin on her palm. “I wonder how long he’ll last before he stops pretending to resist.”

You squirmed, wrists still bound, but Kazuha held you firm—lips pressing harder, fingers tightening. You were completely at their mercy.

And they knew it.

You tore your lips away from Kazuha’s, chest heaving as anger boiled inside you. “You sick freaks—let me go! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Your voice echoed through the room, raw with fury, but the only response was soft, amused laughter.

Lisa leaned back, smirking. “Aww, he’s mad. Isn’t that adorable?”

Jo Yuri tilted her head, lips curling into a grin. “So feisty. I love it when he tries to act tough.”

Ryujin rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “He still doesn’t get it, does he?”

Your wrists strained against the bindings, but it was useless. No matter how much you fought, you were trapped. And they knew it.

Kazuha wiped her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes gleaming. “That wasn’t very nice of you,” she murmured, disappointed.

Before you could snap back, a sharp pain exploded through your arm.

You gasped. One of them—Miyeon, you realized too late—had tightened her grip around your wrist, her nails digging in, deeper and deeper, until the skin broke. Blood welled up beneath her fingers, and you let out a sharp, involuntary yelp.

Miyeon’s expression didn’t change. She simply leaned in, her voice deceptively soft. “If you do that again, little brother…” Her nails pressed in even harder, making you wince. “…we’re going to make it so much worse for you.”

Lisa smirked as she pulled out a small knife, the dim light reflecting off the sharp edge. Without hesitation, she pressed the cool blade against your skin, dragging it slowly, tracing little patterns with deliberate care.

At first, it was just a faint sting. Then the pain deepened, sharp and burning. You gritted your teeth, a muffled groan escaping before a hand suddenly clamped over your mouth.

“Shhh, be good,” Rei whispered against your ear, her breath warm. “No screaming. We can’t have that, can we?”

Your body tensed as Kazuha returned, her lips crashing onto yours with a hunger that left no room for escape. She kissed you deeper this time, her fingers trailing down your bare chest, nails grazing over fresh wounds.

Meanwhile, the others moved with unsettling coordination. Hands tugged at your belt, unfastening it with ease. The rustling of fabric sent a chill down your spine.

Then, with one swift motion, your pants and boxers were yanked down, leaving you completely exposed.

Lisa chuckled, pressing the tip of the blade teasingly against your thigh. “Now, let’s see how much more fun we can have.”

Lisa and Jo Yuri, leaned in, their breaths warm against your exposed skin. Without hesitation, their tongues met at your length, gliding over it in slow, deliberate motions as they shared every inch between them. Lisa’s touch was playful, teasing, while Jo Yuri moved slower, savoring every reaction you gave.

Meanwhile, Kazuha kept her lips firmly pressed against yours, refusing to let you pull away. Her fingers tangled in your hair, holding you in place as she deepened the kiss, her tongue claiming yours with dominance. Her eyes burned with something dangerous, something possessive.

"Don’t even think about running, baby brother," she whispered against your lips, her voice laced with amusement. "You were made for us—so just accept it."

Kazuha slowly pulled away, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she licked the taste of you off her mouth. "I shouldn’t be the only one having fun, right?" she murmured, her fingers trailing down your chest before stepping back, giving the others their turn.

Rei wasted no time. She grabbed your face and crashed her lips against yours, far rougher and more demanding than Kazuha had been. Her nails raked down your skin, leaving faint red marks in their wake, as if she wanted to carve her presence into you. Her tongue forced its way past your lips, claiming you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Meanwhile, from the corner of your eye, you saw Kazuha slipping off her undergarments. She settled onto the chair across from you, spreading her legs ever so slightly, her fingers disappearing between them. Her breathing grew heavier, her lips parting in pleasure, yet her gaze never left yours.

"Don’t look away," she purred, biting down on her lower lip as her movements became more deliberate. "I want to see what you and Rei are doing."

As Rei kept her lips locked onto yours, her tongue exploring with a hunger that matched Kazuha’s burning gaze, Lisa and Jo Yuri continued sharing your length, their mouths working in tandem. Desperation clawed at you as you tried once more to break free, but before you could even shift, Ryujin, Miyeon, and Choerry’s hands were on you—firm, unrelenting.

"Ah, ah… where do you think you're going?" Miyeon cooed, pressing down harder, her nails digging into your wrists.

Ryujin smirked, tightening her grip. "You’re staying right here, baby brother."

Choerry giggled, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Guess it’s our turn now."

With that, Lisa and Jo Yuri pulled away, leaving a wet trail along your skin as Choerry and Ryujin took their place. Their mouths were impossibly warmer, tongues needier, eager to devour you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, suffocating—and yet, their eyes told you the worst was still yet to come.

Ryujin let the tip rest against her tongue for a moment, eyes flickering up to meet yours before she gave a slow, deliberate slap against it, her smirk sending a shiver straight down your spine. "Sensitive, aren't you?" she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

Meanwhile, Choerry was far less patient, her lips sealing around you with a desperate kind of hunger, as if she couldn’t get enough—as if this was her last chance to have you. Every movement, every flick of her tongue, sent heat pooling in your stomach, your body betraying you no matter how much you tried to fight it.

Within seconds, Miyeon’s fingers wrapped around your length, her touch slow and deliberate, using the slickness left behind by Ryujin and Choerry’s mouths. A shiver ran through you as she stroked you with an almost practiced ease, her grip just tight enough to keep you on edge.

She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You’ve always been ours. Since the very beginning. Fighting it won’t save you... it’ll only make things harder—for you." Her voice dripped with amusement, her pace never faltering, as if daring you to resist.

Your body tensed, every nerve on edge as Miyeon’s hand continued its merciless rhythm. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the inevitable, but the overwhelming sight before you made it impossible. Kazuha’s fingers worked between her thighs, her breathy moans mixing with the wet sounds of Miyeon’s strokes. Your other step-sisters were tangled in each other, their lips meeting in desperate, hungry kisses. The ones holding you down only tightened their grips, making sure you had nowhere to run, nowhere to escape.

"M-Mi… Miyeon, please—" your voice cracked, a mix of shame and desperation spilling from your lips.

Miyeon chuckled, her fingers never slowing, twisting just enough to make your hips jerk involuntarily. "Please, what?" she teased, her warm breath tickling your ear. Miyeon chuckled, her fingers never slowing, twisting just enough to make your hips jerk involuntarily. "Gonna cum?" she taunted, her warm breath tickling your ear. "Go on, don’t hold back. It’s not like you can stop it anyway."

As the pressure built deep inside you, your breath hitched, your body betraying you. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, Ryujin yanked Miyeon away. Before you could even react, Lisa seized your face, forcing your gaze to meet hers. "Go on, baby brother," Lisa purred, her grip tightening as her lips brushed against your ear. "Make a mess, and we’ll make you regret it. Be good for us—hold it in."

You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to hold it in—not out of defiance, but because you were too weak to endure whatever punishment they had in store. The sting of your wounds still burned, fresh blood trickling down your skin. But despite your restraint, a small drop of release spilled from your length. Rei noticed instantly, her eyes gleaming with something dark. With a slow, deliberate motion, she swiped it up with her finger—then brought it to her lips, tasting you with a satisfied hum. Rei’s lips curled into a smirk as she sucked the remnants off her finger, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Hm… even when you're trying to behave, your body still betrays you,” she purred, tilting her head. “Didn’t Lisa tell you to hold it in, baby brother?”

Her eyes darkened with something wicked, something dangerous. “Looks like you need to be taught a little more discipline.”

"I won’t be a bad brother anymore… I swear," you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I’ll go back to the house… just please, let me go."

Choerry cupped your face with both hands, her grip firm, her touch almost affectionate as she tilted your head forward. "Shh, don’t fight it," she whispered, guiding you closer to Kazuha’s glistening heat.

Kazuha’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into the table as she trembled on the edge of release. "Be good for us," she murmured, her eyes glazed with pleasure. "Take all of me… just like a good little brother should."

As Kazuha neared her release, she tangled her fingers in your hair, yanking you closer until your face was pressed against her soaked heat. A shuddering gasp escaped her lips before turning into a breathy, desperate moan.

“Fuckk—! T-Take it all… don’t you fucking dare pull away,” she whimpered, her thighs trembling as she rode out her high.

Her essence spilled over you, warm and relentless, coating your skin as the other sisters watched with dark delight. Laughter and whispers filled the air, their hungry gazes drinking in the sight of you—helpless, drenched, and completely theirs.

Kazuha’s grip was ruthless as she seized your face again, shoving you back onto the cold floor. Your wrists throbbed, skin raw from the restraints digging in, but none of them cared. Rei crouched beside you, her fingers trailing over the angry red marks with a mocking pout.

‘This is what happens to bad brothers,’ she murmured, voice dripping with sickly sweetness. ‘You should’ve known better.’

You tried to scream for help, but before the sound could escape, Jo Yuri was already pressing a strip of tape over your lips. She smiled, tilting her head as she traced a finger along your cheek.

‘Good boys stay quiet,’ she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement.

Jo Yuri, though reveling in the punishment they were putting you through, was growing impatient—eager to claim her reward. Wasting no time, she rushed toward you, lowering herself onto your length with a slow, deliberate motion. At first, she moved cautiously, savoring the sensation, but it didn’t take long before her pace quickened, her hunger becoming undeniable.

"Fuck, you feel so good,” Jo Yuri moaned, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your mind and body were already betraying you, blurring the lines between resistance and surrender. No matter how much you wanted to fight it, the pleasure was overpowering—forcing you to forget, even for a moment, that these seven had turned your own apartment into a prison. And now, lost in the heat of the moment, you couldn’t ignore the way one of your sisters wrapped around you so perfectly.

Ryujin and Miyeon knelt beside you, their gazes dark with possession as they claimed ownership over you. Ryujin’s fingers traced along your jaw before gripping it tightly, forcing you to meet her eyes.

‘You’re ours now,’ she murmured, her voice laced with dangerous sweetness. ‘If you even think about disobeying, we’ll make your life a living hell.’

Miyeon leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, ‘And you won’t tell a single soul about what happened here. Not unless you want things to get even worse.’

All the while, Jo Yuri shifted her position, moving back in front of you without ever slowing her relentless pace, her eyes locked onto yours with a dangerous gleam.

Lisa scoffed, her grip tightening as she leaned in closer. ‘You’ll never have a girlfriend,’ she said, her voice dripping with possessiveness. ‘If you ever want to be with someone, it should be with us—your step-sisters. Only us. No one else.’

She smiled, but there was nothing sweet about it. ‘Any other woman who tries to take you away? She won’t live to see another day.’

Jo Yuri then quickened her pace, sensing just how close you were. This time, there was no holding back—it was inevitable. A wicked smile curled on her lips as she turned to the others.

‘He’s about to cum,’ she announced, her voice laced with excitement.

Without hesitation, she lifted herself off you, replacing the sensation with the warmth of her mouth. The rest of your sisters watched hungrily, biting their lips, tongues teasingly sticking out as they eagerly waited for your release.

It only took a few strokes before pleasure crashed over you. Your body tensed, and despite the tape sealing your lips, a desperate, muffled moan escaped—

‘Mmmph—! Haaah…!’

Your climax spilled onto their expectant faces, their delighted giggles filling the room as they licked away every drop, satisfied with their claimed prize.

The sisters, now satisfied with their work, slowly removed the restraints from your wrists and peeled the tape from your mouth. But it didn’t matter—you were too weak to move, your body completely drained.

As you lay there, trying to catch your breath, one of them leaned in with a smug smile.

‘We’ll be moving in tomorrow,’ Miyeon announced casually, as if it were already decided. ‘So make sure no one else comes here. This place belongs to us now—just like you do.

The sisters slipped back into their clothes, their satisfied smiles lingering as they slowly made their way out of your apartment. But Ryujin stayed behind, her eyes locked onto your exhausted form.

She crouched beside you, brushing a few strands of hair from your face before whispering, ‘There’ll be more moments like this… whether you like it or not.’

Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, her hand trailed downward, fingers wrapping around your sensitive length. She gave it a slow, teasing stroke, her smirk widening.

She watched you with a wicked glint in her eyes, savoring the way your body twitched under her touch.

‘Come on,’ she coaxed, her voice sultry and commanding. ‘Be a good boy and cum for me—right now.’

She pumped faster, her thumb teasing over your most sensitive spot, determined to wring out every last drop. ‘I don’t have all night,’ she whispered against your ear. ‘So give me everything before I go… unless you want the others to join in.’

With one last stroke, she pushed you over the edge, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she finally pulled away. Without another word, she stood up, adjusted her clothes, and walked out—leaving you panting, drained, and completely at their mercy.

As the last of your step-sisters walked out, the apartment fell silent, save for the lingering scent of them in the air. Your body was sore, your wrists still red from where they had bound you, yet the worst part wasn’t the pain—it was the realization that this wasn’t over.

They had made that clear.

Tomorrow, they would return. Tomorrow, they would move in. Tomorrow, your life would no longer be your own.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing. Could you escape? Call for help? But even as the thoughts formed, you knew the truth—there was no running from them. They had already decided. You belonged to them.

And deep down, despite everything, your body shivered at the thought.

[kxsagi]

hey girl....imma...imma need u to write ab the whole... bicep crushing thing w Isagi cuz.. now u got me thinking 😈😈😩

“𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢’𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧”

a/n: need to see his biceps and triceps flexed as he grips the headboard 

yeah i’m down bad so i made two parts 🙁 (second part is a little suggestive)

“𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐚”

one look at your boyfriend and you only have one thought: #needthat. 

isagi stood by the kitchen counter, leaning against it lazily with one hand holding his phone, the other casually gripping a glass of water. his thumb scrolled absentmindedly, but your eyes? glued to the way his bicep flexed subtly each time he lifted the glass. the veins along his forearm shifted with every movement, stretching across his skin like delicate, winding rivers taunting you. 

you were supposed to be doing something productive. anything, really. but instead, you sat at the table, chin in your hand, fully mesmerized by the spectacle that was isagi existing. 

“you good?” his voice snapped you out of your blatant gawking, and you realized you’d been staring for way too long. his brow arched slightly, though there was a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. he knew. and oh how much it boosted his ego. 

“hm? yeah, just… thinking,” you lied through your teeth. 

but then he did it. the absolute audacity. he set the glass down and stretched. arms raised above his head, shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of toned abs, but that wasn’t even the problem. the problem was the way his biceps peaked, perfectly rounded and taut, as he locked his fingers together, letting out a small sigh. 

and you? done for. 

“you’re still staring,” he pointed out, lowering his arms, but instead of dropping them to his sides, he bent one and flexed slightly, pretending to stretch his shoulder. oh, he was absolutely messing with you now. 

you scoffed dramatically, feigning annoyance. “don’t flatter yourself.” 

but isagi, being the menace he was, smirked wider. “flatter myself?” he mused, flexing again, just subtly, enough for you to notice. “nah, you’re the one doing all the flattering with your eyes.” 

your face felt hot. and it only got worse when he casually walked over and placed his hands on either side of your chair, leaning down slightly. the proximity gave you a front-row seat to the definition in his arms, the way his triceps curved beneath his skin, the warmth radiating off him. 

“wanna feel?” his voice was low, teasing, but it made your breath catch. 

you blinked, caught between playing it cool and completely folding. spoiler alert: you folded. instantly. without another word, you reached out, brushing your fingers along the firm muscle. warm, smooth skin stretched over pure strength. you squeezed lightly, your hand barely able to fit around his bicep. 

“jeez,” you muttered under your breath. “these things should be illegal.” 

isagi chuckled, and you could feel the vibration of his laugh through his arm. “should they?” he teased, bringing his face a little closer, his breath fanning over your ear. “you seemed pretty interested in them a second ago.” 

you glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the way you were still clinging to his arm. “don’t be cocky.” 

he leaned in further, lips just grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “too late.”

“𝐛𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐩 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧”

you should’ve known better. you really should’ve. 

it started innocently enough – playful, teasing, nothing serious. you were lying on the couch, your legs draped over isagi’s lap while he scrolled on his phone, absentmindedly tracing patterns along your shin with his thumb. soft. casual. domestic. 

but then your eyes wandered (because how could they not?) to the way his forearm flexed slightly as he adjusted his grip. the shift was subtle, but you caught it – the faint ridge of muscle, the delicate winding of veins beneath his skin. and just like that, you were done for. 

you stared a little too long. and isagi? he noticed. 

“you good?” he muttered, not looking away from his phone. 

you hummed, feigning nonchalance. “mhm, just thinking.” 

“about what?” 

you glanced at his arm again. mistake. your fingers twitched slightly against his thigh. the urge was too strong. you reached out before you could stop yourself, lightly squeezing the bulk of his bicep. 

and you had the audacity to say, “huh… not that big.” 

his head snapped toward you, eyes narrowing slightly. oh, you were asking for it. 

he didn’t say a word, just slowly set his phone down on the coffee table. the shift was deliberate. predatory. when he turned back to you, there was a faint glimmer in his eyes, something dangerous and amused all at once. 

“what was that?” he asked, voice low and steady. too steady. if you wanna test him like that, you have to be ready for it. 

you blinked at him innocently, playing dumb. “what?” 

his gaze dipped to where your hand still rested on his bicep. “not that big, huh?” 

before you could offer some snarky retort, he moved. suddenly. swiftly. in one smooth motion, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you beneath him, caging you against the couch with his arms braced on either side of your head. 

your breath caught. his face was only inches from yours, but you barely noticed. no, you were far too distracted by the wall of muscle surrounding you. his forearms, thick and unyielding, pressed into the cushion beside your face, framing you completely. 

“still not big enough?” he muttered, voice low and teasing, but there was a heat behind it that made your stomach tighten. 

you couldn’t answer. not when he shifted lower, bringing his chest flush against yours, and wrapped his arms around you. 

and then? he squeezed. 

slowly. deliberately. his biceps flexing against your back, the solid muscle closing around you like evil. warm, firm, and completely unforgiving. 

your breath hitched. “oh my gosh –” 

his arms tightened further, just slightly, enough to steal the air from your lungs. you squirmed, but the more you struggled, the harder his hold became. his biceps flexed again, the muscle shifting and pressing against your ribs, making it almost impossible to breathe without feeling him everywhere. 

“too tight?” he murmured near your ear, voice dark with mock concern. 

you shook your head weakly, your fingers gripping at the unyielding muscle. 

“no?” he taunted softly, his breath warm against your skin. “then let me…” his arms flexed subtly again, the veins in his forearms pulsing faintly beneath his skin, “hold you a little tighter.” 

and he did. slowly and thoroughly. 

you could feel the strain of his biceps beneath your palms, the way the muscles coiled, dense and unrelenting, keeping you locked against him. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as you tried to get some semblance of leverage, but he was immovable. 

his chest pressed against yours, warm and solid, each breath making the cage of his arms press into you further. you let out a soft gasp against his throat, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt as your body went pliant beneath his strength. 

“yoichi…” you barely managed to breathe out, voice muffled against his skin. 

his lips brushed your temple, a dark chuckle escaping him. “what?” 

you squirmed slightly, your breath hitching when his arms flexed again, hard muscle coiling tighter around you. you felt it – the shift beneath his skin, the sheer force of it. crushing. suffocating. consuming. and yet? you didn’t pull away. 

no, instead, you clung to him, fingers tracing along the tense ridges of his arms, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. 

“tighter,” you whispered, half-daring, half-pleading. 

he froze slightly against you, his breath catching for just a fraction of a second, before he grinned against your skin. 

“you’re dangerous,” he muttered softly, but his arms obeyed anyway, flexing harder. pulling you in so snugly against him that your ribs practically caved into his chest, breathless and overwhelmed. 

and still? you didn’t tell him to stop. 

his lips brushed along your throat, teeth grazing gently against your skin. slow. deliberate. 

and then? he stilled. just for a second. 

his arms were still snug around you, keeping you completely captive, but he shifted back slightly, just enough to look at you. really look at you. 

your eyes met his, wide and slightly dazed, chest heaving faintly from the lack of air, but still, you didn’t pull away. you just stared up at him, your fingers still trembling slightly against the bulk of his arms. 

“you like this, huh?” his voice was a low rasp, but there was something softer in it now, something dangerously tender. 

you didn’t answer. you just tugged him down, pressing your lips softly to his. slow. deliberate. deep. 

he groaned softly against your mouth, arms still holding you tight, still keeping you locked against him. but this time, he kissed you slower. deeper. his lips moving against yours like he had all the time in the world. 

he didn’t let go. didn’t loosen his hold. no, he kept you right where you were, completely encased by him. 

and when he finally pulled back, just slightly, his breath warm against your lips, he whispered softly: 

“mine.” 

and with one slow, final squeeze, you melted entirely into him. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[bu3ck3r]

wrapped in you

paige bueckers x reader

summary: you’re having a bad day and paige is the sweetest and cheers you up

You weren’t sure when the heaviness settled in your chest, but it had been there all day—pressing down, making everything feel dull and overwhelming. It wasn’t one specific thing, but a mix of small disappointments, stress, and exhaustion stacking up until it felt like you were sinking.

And no matter how much you tried to hide it, Paige noticed.

She always did.

It started in the morning when she caught you staring off into space at breakfast, your spoon lazily stirring your cereal until it went soggy. Then at lunch, when you barely touched your food, only offering a half-hearted smile when she asked if you were okay.

By the time you were curled up on the couch in the afternoon, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, she had seen enough.

Paige plopped down next to you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Alright, what’s up?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Paige poked your side gently. “You’ve been in a funk all day. Talk to me.”

You sighed, shrugging. “It’s nothing.”

Paige wasn’t buying it. “Baby, you can’t fool me.”

You chewed your lip, debating whether to just brush it off again. But the way Paige was looking at you—soft but serious, like she wasn’t going to let this go—made it hard to keep up the act.

“I just feel… off,” you admitted finally. “Like everything is too much, and I don’t even know why.”

Paige was quiet for a moment before shifting closer, putting your legs on her thighs. She reached for your hand, running her thumb over your knuckles in slow, comforting strokes.

“That’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to explain it if you don’t know how. But you don’t have to deal with it alone either.”

Something in your chest loosened slightly. Paige always had a way of making you feel understood, even when you didn’t understand yourself.

But the heaviness was still there, lingering like a storm cloud.

Paige studied you for a beat before standing up abruptly.

“Okay, we’re fixing this,” she declared.

You frowned, confused. “Fixing what?”

“Your mood,” she said matter-of-factly. “Stay right there. I have a plan.”

Before you could protest, she disappeared into the bedroom, leaving you sitting there, bewildered. A few minutes later, she returned, her arms full—blankets, her hoodie, a bag of your favorite snacks, and even her laptop balanced precariously on top.

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “What are you doing?”

“I want to cheer up my favorite person ,” she announced proudly. She draped the hoodie over your lap first. “Put this on.”

You rolled your eyes but slipped the oversized hoodie over your head anyway. It smelled like her—like fresh laundry and vanilla, warm and familiar.

Paige grinned when she saw you relax slightly. She threw a blanket over both of you, pulling you close so you were practically in her lap. “No escaping. You’re officially trapped.”

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously good at making you feel better? Yeah, I know,” she said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but Paige caught the way your lips twitched into the tiniest smile.

She handed you a bag of your favorite chips before opening her laptop. “We can watch a movie, or I can show you funny TikToks, or we can talk about something completely random. Your choice.”

You hesitated before murmuring, “Can we just stay like this for a bit?”

Paige’s expression softened. “Of course.”

She wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as you rested your head against her shoulder. She didn’t try to force you to talk or pretend everything was fine. She just stayed there, warm and steady, letting you take whatever comfort you needed.

After a few minutes, she started absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair. “You know,” she mused, “whenever I have a bad day—like when my shots aren’t falling, or I feel like I’m not doing enough—I try to remind myself of the good things. The little things that make everything worth it.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. “Like what?”

Paige smiled, her fingers still tracing soothing patterns in your hair. “Like how my dad always texts me before every game. Or how the team hypes each other up even on our worst days. Or…” She paused, her smile turning softer. “Or how you always wait up for me, even when you’re tired. And how you steal my hoodies but somehow make them look better than I do.”

You let out a quiet laugh, your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Paige nudged you playfully. “See? Smiling already. My plan is working.”

“You’re something else i swear” you murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot,” she said dramatically. Then, in a softer voice, “But seriously… I love you. And I’m always gonna be here, even when you’re feeling off.”

Your throat tightened—not with sadness this time, but with gratitude. Paige didn’t need grand gestures or fancy words to make you feel loved. She just knew you. Understood you. And that was enough.

You squeezed her hand. “I love you too.”

Paige grinned. “I know.”

You groaned, nudging her. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before turning her laptop screen toward you. “Alright, since you didn’t pick a distraction, I’m putting on a rom-com, and you have to deal with it.”

You shook your head but didn’t protest. Paige hit play, and soon enough, the movie was filling the room with cheesy dialogue and over-the-top romance.

But your focus wasn’t on the screen. It was on Paige—the way she absentmindedly played with your fingers, the way she laughed at all the dumb jokes, the way she kept sneaking glances at you like she was making sure you were okay.

And somehow, without you even realizing it, the heaviness that had weighed you down all day didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It didn’t fix everything. But sitting there, wrapped up in Paige’s warmth, her heartbeat steady against your ear, you realized something important.

Even on the hardest days, you weren’t alone.

And that was enough.

@melpthatsme hope u like it!

[charliemwrites]

Bark bark bark awoooo

No content warnings

You’re gonna fucking combust.

Somehow, someway, this is Johnny’s fault. You’re not sure how yet, so he it isn’t fair for him to be in trouble, but you know it.

“This is your fault,” you tell him, pouting in bed — bare ass naked, but that means nothing to him, he’s a dog. He cocks his head, and you wave your (broken) vibrator at him. “I don’t know how, but it is. Is this because I wanna chop your balls off?”

His mouth closes, eyes big - like he actually understands you. In your horny delirium, you almost believe he really does.

You flop onto your back with a sigh, eyes a little wet with frustration.

It’s been two months since you last successfully got off. Your vibrator (and its replacement… and its replacement’s replacement) keep breaking, or running out of battery. The plug is defective or falls out of the socket.

Once you successfully got right to the edge - just for it to die. You almost did cry that time.

Sure, there’s your hand. But every time you try ol’ reliable a certain four-legged roommate interrupts one way or another. And when you tried to kick him out of the room, and then ignored the howling, scratching, and general drama - there was loud and rapid knocking at your door.

Like fucking clockwork. If you get anywhere at all, you never get to finish.

It wouldn’t be so bad, either. Your libido isn’t anything crazy, you don’t think. At least it wasn’t before. But now there’s Soap.

Soap who you should not be so attracted to. Who has no sense of propriety or boundaries, who murmurs the dirtiest things to you in the most public and otherwise mundane places. And he just keeps. Showing. Up.

Like he’s got a tracker on you or something. (You’ve checked, he doesn’t.)

He’s like every guilty fantasy you had as a good, studious girl back in high school. The kind of guy to grab your thigh under your parents’ dinner table and take your virginity in the back of his car. Maybe corner you by the lockers between classes to kiss you silly and drive up your absence record.

You never actually went for those boys — and perhaps gratefully, they never went for you. In romance novels, it would be a quaint little coming of age story. The stuff to swoon over. But reality was a lot scarier for you, especially with your older sister always keeping an ear out to report back to your parents and… well, yeah.

You’ve always been a firm introvert, anyway. That’s why you live out in the woods with only a dog for regular company.

But Soap. Soap is some unholy amalgamation of those innocent, shy girl fantasies turned R-rated. Like the grown-up version of those cute YA novels.

And you have no defense for it — except distrust, that is.

Soft-hearted as you are, you know you don’t do casual well. And you know that guys like Soap just like to spin you up and up until you finally give in, think the dreaded words “maybe it’ll work out” despite that rational voice in your head saying, “don’t bet on it.”

Doesn’t stop you from secretly wanting him though.

Fear is the only thing keeping you in check now. Some of it for you own feelings; of getting invested in a guy that has done nothing but treat you like a prime cut of meat. The rest of it is a genuine concern that he might be a bit dangerous. He’s so much bigger than you, visibly stronger. Has gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable (doesn’t matter that a very dark and slutty part of you liked it) and ignored your attempts at brushing him off.

Fear, unfortunately, is beginning to add to the temptation.

“I’m not going to do it,” you tell yourself, or maybe Johnny. Soap’s contact is on the screen. You don’t remember putting it into your phone, but you must have at some point. “Nope. No way.”

You slide a sideways look at Johnny, tail wagging at a steady clip.

“He’s probably a former frat boy or something, right?” you muse.

Snort.

“No, you don’t think so?” you question, sitting up. He happily crawls into your lap when you pat your thighs, chin resting on your tummy. “Nah, you’re right. Could almost imagine him beating the hell out of one for pissing him off.”

A little grumbly noise. You smile and start petting absently over his head and ears, phone forgotten now.

“This is dumb anyway,” you sigh, head tilted back to the ceiling. “You don’t like men. I couldn’t bring him back here.”

Johnny’s ears flick. You giggle and start flopping them around, making airplane noises. Eventually he huffs and starts licking at your face until you stop, complaining that you’ll need to wash off now.

—

“Fuck it.”

Johnny picks his head up, staring at you as you run a hand down your face.

“Fuck it all. I’m going to a bar. I’m getting… I dunno. Laid or something.” Thank god it’s only Johnny here. You don’t think you could live with the embarrassment of someone else hearing the way you talk.

You set your hands on your hips, nod to yourself.

“And if it happens to be Soap, then… sign from the universe, right?” You grimace a bit, striding for your bedroom. “Please don’t let him be a murderer or something…”

For once, Johnny is perfectly behaved as you get ready. He doesn’t try to lick at you when you come out of shower (freshly shaved and lotioned and everything). Sits patiently on the bed as you pick through your closet, even noses at a pretty pink dress you rarely wear but were considering for this.

He doesn’t try to bump your arms or hands while you do your makeup, just watches attentively. You choose a pretty, matching bra-panty set, apply a light spritz of perfume. Hesitate over jewelry.

“Is it normal to wear jewelry when you plan on fucking?” you wander allowed.

A little “boof” from the bed. You’ll take that as a yes.

You decide on a set of faux pearls with a gold heart pendant in the center. Not quite a choker, but high enough on your throat to suggest one. A delicate bracelet, a pair of stud earrings, and you’re just about set.

“Christ, I hate doing this alone,” you mutter, fumbling with the zip on the back of the dress.

Lastly, the shoes.

“Fuck it,” you say again. Your mantra for the evening, apparently. Wobble into a pair of heels, a bow on the outside of each ankle where you buckle them.

You pause when you’re done, giving yourself a once over in the full length mirror. Pleased with what you see. Coquettish and pretty, not necessarily bombshell sexy maybe, at least not on first glance. But the necklace, the heels, the cutouts at the waist of your dress… it’s all exactly what you wanted.

“Alright,” you breathe, tummy swooping with excitement. “I can do this… right?”

Johnny’s gotten down off the bed, is keeping a respectful distance. You appreciate it, don’t want to have to lint roll hair off yourself.

“Oh, god. What if he’s bad?” You ask, giving him a horrified look. “What if he’s been, like, compensating?”

To your shock, he stomps his paw and starts damn near howling. Carrying on and on like he’s bitching you out. You blink in shock, almost laugh — then check the time.

“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you starve!”

You toddle off to the kitchen and prep his dinner, scrunching your nose at the raw chicken and beef liver. He grumbles and fusses the whole way, making you laugh as you pretend to have a whole conversation about the economy with him.

“Okay, bonnie Johnny,” you coo, setting his bowl down. “Be good, okay? If I bring someone back here please don’t eat them, okay?”

More grumbles and whines and growls. You roll your eyes, blow him a kiss, and slip out the door.

You tell yourself you just need action with someone. Don’t admit to yourself that there’s really a specific someone you’re hoping to see.

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Masterlist

[alfredosauce50]

Dear, Sasha

[Russia x reader]

Wordcount: 11, 834

Content warning: Heavily explicit NSFW content. R18+ only.

Synopsis: Being born into Russian high society is just as much of a blessing as it is a curse. You live a life of comfort and luxury, but at the expense of your own happiness. Just when you think you’ve had enough, a man catches your eye, and looking at him is like looking into a mirror. You eventually meet him at a ball, and upon dancing with him, an intense, unspoken passion begins.

As you get closer to him, you start falling for his intelligence and sensitivity. But he keeps retreating within himself and running away, breaking your heart in the process. You eventually track him down on a train leaving Moscow, and in a fit of passion, you slap him across the face. Shocked by the magnitude of your feelings, he chases you with no intention of letting the fire die out.

Imperial Russia, 1875. A frozen empire on the brink of collapse. While the rest of Europe liberated itself from decadence and poverty, the state remained an antique of the past. There was still a stark division between high society and peasants. You either worked the land or went to dizzying ballroom parties until you went mad from the decadence of it all.

That was your life.

Only you always thought you were born on the wrong side of history. Not that you ever said it out loud, because how could you? Having come from a long line of nobility, everything was handed to you with a silver spoon. Money, lavish estates, a noble name, all inherited from the past generations of your family.

“Gilbert? Are you ready?” You marched down the hall, heels clacking against the floor. The dress you wore was white, off-shoulder, and poured elegantly down to your feet. Around your neck was a delicate string of pearls, and hanging from your ears was a pair of dainty earrings. Everything you wore was fit for a bride, which was fitting for your circumstances.

“Almost!”

You arrived at the doorway of your cousin’s bedroom, and the man himself was standing in front of a mirror, checking his appearance. He was in a white tuxedo, making for quite the dashing bachelor. For someone who had no absolutely no interest in being tied down, he always tried so hard for high society.

“Why is it that every time we go to parties, you’re always the last one out the door?” You asked.

“I’m not good with time, you know that.” He turned to you, arms stiffly by his sides. “So, how do I look?”

“Irresistible.”

“Good. You don’t look too bad yourself,” He walked over, getting you to let out a laugh. “Now let’s get going.”

“You know, I’m starting to get tired of these parties,” You admitted as you both descended the staircase. Waiting just outside the front door was the family’s horse and carriage. “Seems like an awful lot of effort to meet people you’ll never even talk to again.”

“No, it’s for when you accidentally bump into them on your train ride to and from Moscow,” He grinned.

“You got that right.” You mused.

It was lonely staying by yourself in Saint Petersburg. Every year when Winter came rolling around, turning the country into a snowy wasteland, it was practically unbearable. Fortunately, you had a cousin to share your pain with, and he just so happened to despise the country’s state of affairs as much as you.

“I’m really glad for you, Gilbert. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” You commented in the carriage.

“Of course you are,” He hummed, though his mirth only lasted so long when he caught the expression you had. It was a little sad, but perhaps you’d been that way for quite some time. “I know that look.”

You lifted your gaze to him quietly.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned in from across you.

“It’s nothing.” You sighed, turning away.

“It’s never nothing.” He plopped down next to you.

“Okay, fine. I just don’t know if this kind of life is right for me. All the socializing, the dancing, I just can’t take it anymore. I’m putting on some kind of persona so I’m not rejected from everything I’ve ever known.”

Gilbert softened his gaze as he listened to you speak. And you were right about everything. He wasn’t one to follow rules, or rather, he had quite the disdain for them. He was childish, eccentric, and had no qualms against staying that way forever. But high society was just as much of a curse as it was a blessing.

“Yeah.” He murmured, gaze falling.

If you didn’t fit in, you were as good as dead.

“Maybe I should’ve been a farmer.” You mused.

“Trust me. You do not want to be a farmer.”

“So I just marry rich and the end?”

“That’s how the world works, unfortunately.”

”That’s how Russia works.” You corrected.

“Yeah, but it worked out pretty well for the two of us, didn’t it? Look on the bright side.” The albino kicked back next to you. If you didn’t already know him, you’d say he was everything wrong with this country.

“You say that now, but when it’s your turn to get married, you won’t be this relaxed.” You remarked.

“I’m twenty-two. I still have time,” He closed his eyes. Not a moment passed before he opened one to look at you teasingly. “You’re running out of it, though. You’re telling me you’re a twenty year-old woman and still unmarried? There must be something wro-”

You glared at him and he shut up pretty quick.

“I just want to meet the right person, okay? Is that really too much to ask for?” You frowned again.

“Ah, you’re so old-fashioned, (F/N).” Gilbert almost swooned. “But that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Ever since your debut two years ago, the subject had been looming over you as the bane of your existence. Finding the one, though it was more of a social obligation than something you really wanted. Romantic love was an illusion of the old order. People married for duty, and you feared that one day, you would have to too. All of these social events and soirées were for that reason, and the more you lingered on that, the less enchanting they seemed.

The grandest estates could not tempt you, nor the glistening chandeliers that hung overhead. Not the enticing display of exotic fruits on the refreshments table, nor the enchanting string instruments. When you got to the dance floor, you curtsied for your partner, who was one of many that you would cycle through that night. Their faces were a blur, their conversations a bore, each a copy of a copy.

None of this was real.

All of this was an illusion, a distraction for the dawn of an empire. You’d been stuck in this haze for many years, only now just realizing the thickness of it, like this life was everything you would ever know. All of these thoughts raced through your head until your heart began pounding, like you were on the verge of collapsing. The room spun faster and faster as you lost yourself, but that was when you saw him.

A uniformed cavalry officer in all white.

You were never one to stare, let alone at a man, but his appearance was so unique, it was distracting. What more was that he was so tall and broad, it was hard not to look at him. But you did more than just that. As he stood near the edge of the ballroom, you gave him a few curious glances, perhaps too many to be considered inconspicuous. His skin was whiter than snow, soft and smooth like powder. He had a long and rather large nose, but it suited him. As for his hair, it was platinum blonde, and slightly wavy.

It framed a matured and full face that scanned the room for other people-watchers. He seemed a lot more observant than most, and perhaps that served a role in his isolation. But that made the two of you.

As if he felt your stare on him, he glanced at you.

Then, he smiled.

You froze, hypnotized by his eyes. In your lifetime here in Russia, you’ve never seen anything like them. His eyes were a soft lavender, and so vivid against his white cap. They were devastatingly beautiful and so rare, you felt lonely just by gazing into them. Or was it because it felt like you were looking into a mirror?

A week later, you attended an opera with Gilbert.

The man was escaping your mind by then, but fate decided otherwise. As you sat amongst hundreds of faces, yours was being watched by someone else. You scanned the audience with your opera glasses as the woman on stage performed her piece, reaching a high crescendo. That was when you spotted him.

The officer from the ball.

And he was already staring at you.

Your eyes went wide ever so slowly, enchanted by how bold he was being. He wasn’t nervous about being discovered at all, even removing his opera glasses to show his striking lavender eyes, as if to show it was him. It was riveting to be noticed, and even more so when he made it obvious. He wanted you to know he was watching you, just as you had been watching him. What were his intentions?

Or was it all a mere coincidence?

You didn’t know what to think, but one thing was for sure. He had piqued your attention, and you made it a point to find out who he was. The next time you saw him again was at another ball, and once the opportunity came, you walked up to your cousin to do exactly that. He was drinking vodka out of a glass, and he didn’t seem like he’d stop anytime soon.

“Who’s that?” You stared back at the man.

“Ivan Braginsky,” Gilbert answered.

Finally, a name to match the face.

Funnily enough, your cousin didn’t need to look to confirm who you were staring at. Had the man done something to warrant such a reputation, or was it his captivating looks that called for so much attention?

“Another rich cavalry officer, I guess. Apparently, he doesn’t care for women -- if you know what I mean.”

There it was.

“Where did you hear that from?” You shot him a look, strangely disheartened by the thought.

“Word of mouth, what else?”

“And you listen to that nonsense?”

“It’s not just me. See how everybody else is strategically avoiding him aside from a polite nod?”

You turned to the officer, watching him for a short period before noticing he was indeed the solitary type. He never waltzed with any women, and nobody seemed to be striking up much conversation with him aside from other officers. You didn���t know what to feel, stark indifference, or embarrassment that the man you had been staring at didn’t swing that way.

“Stop it, Gilbert. You sound just like them.”

But as opposed as you were to the idea, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. In a world like this one, outside opinion became your reality. People loved to talk, so if you happened to be the subject, you better hope it was something good. When you thought of it that way, your spunk had all but reduced to nothing.

It was easier to just do what everybody else was doing. To tread lightly against the water without causing any ripples. It was the reason why you were so miserable, and yet, you were paralyzed.

You resorted to just watching him on the mezzanine, surrounded by his friends. By then, your fixation on him was no longer out of mere curiosity. He was attractive, and judging from how he looked back at you, that attraction was mutual. The reciprocation left much to be desired, like an invitation to start something. It drew you in like all things forbidden, though the only object was the peace of your old life.

And rather than speaking, you chose to die.

But he chose the latter.

“Demoralizing, isn’t it?”

A deep voice startled you, having come from behind. When you turned to it, you came face to face with Ivan. He was even more striking up close, and you weren’t prepared for what felt like worlds colliding.

“Excuse me?” Your brows came together.

“This is all theatre,” Ivan replied, lowering his head to you. “Everything you do and say is watched.”

“Is that so?” Interest laced your tone, fascinated by the eccentric talking point. This was your first time meeting him, and yet, he didn’t bother with niceties.“Do you think we’re being watched right now?”

“Of course.” He held out a gloved hand, palm facing up. He was forward, but only at your permission. Nothing he did was intrusive, as if he observed you for all your limits and lingered on them until you gave him your consent to go further. For that, the way he carried himself was so mysterious, but also deeply alluring. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

You slid your hand into his, diving into the fire that was his world — and much to your wonder, yours.

Ivan led you to the dance floor, and all the heads in the room turned, one by one. Some peered around to get a better look, even. It was the most unexpected development yet, the man they’d written off to be a social outcast, next to a young debutante with an established name. You two looked good together too, but neither of those reasons would account for the amount of attention you and Ivan would receive.

It started off innocent like any other couple on the floor. A graceful waltz straight out of a fairytale.

Your palms came together, and with his hand on your waist, he guided you effortlessly amongst the other guests. You danced with him across the room, but you felt so light, it was like flying. Everything that had ever weighed you down was lifted, unburdened by everything that had been. Your dress flared out as he spun you in circles, but it wasn’t dizzying in the least.

In fact, your head had never been clearer.

For the world had all been drowned out.

The only thing you could see was him, and him, you. Even for just that moment, you were the center of each other’s universe. You were his sun, and he was yours. You two revolved around each other, basking in each other’s warmth that nourished a new life. And as the night went on, he never switched you with any other women. He didn’t have any intention to dance with anybody else, but neither did you. Slowly, but surely, it became undeniable what was developing between you two. He lifted you up and spun you in the air. Then, you took the risk to look down at him.

You and Ivan locked in a deep stare.

That was when you knew.

There was a budding passion between you and Ivan. With your mouth agape, you held onto his face to stabilize yourself. Breaths poured from your lips, and he welcomed them on instinct by opening his own. All this time, it wasn’t just the devastating beauty of his eyes that touched you, nor the coherence behind them. It was that they were looking at you.

The music stopped, and everything was sealed with a daring act. When he put you down, he did it so that your nose would slide against his. It was the first time that you made skin-to-skin contact with him, and it was so electric, you closed your eyes to savor it.

This had all been just a dance.

And yet, it felt like you two had just made love.

Needless to say, the blatant disregard for everyone else in the room was the most selfish, yet erotic experience of your life. When he parted ways with you, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. His lips lingered on you, and he lifted his gaze to you once more, almost as if to repeat everything that had already been said.

Then, he bowed, leaving you for the night.

Not that you even got any sleep after a high like that.

But your hopes were crushed as quickly as they were raised. You didn’t see him for a while after that, and he didn’t write to you either. A part of you hoped that he would find your address because he wanted to, but he never did. It left you incredibly disappointed, even confused after such a beautiful night together. Had everything you felt just been a fling, or worse, entirely made up in your mind? In your melancholy, you went to the city to get yourself some flowers.

But when you got inside the shop, you laid eyes on the reason for your woes. You could recognize that silver-blonde hair from anywhere, and subsequently, the person it belonged to. Even with his back turned to you in a crouch, you instantly knew who it was.

“Ivan.” You let out.

“(F/N),” The man turned to you, eyes widened.

His guard dropped at the sudden encounter. You just caught him in his private life, and while that wasn’t a problem on its own, he imagined his second time speaking to you would be when he was a little more prepared. But he couldn’t deny how delighted he was, even if he tried to mask it to an acceptable level. He stood up and dusted his pants, smile growing.

“It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too. What are you doing?”

“Just running some errands.” Ivan replied, picking up a bucket of sunflowers from the ground.

“For yourself?” You asked with a curious tone.

“Yes, sunflowers are my favorite,” He laughed like he didn’t want to admit it, but he did anyway. He carried them to the cashier, but he promptly returned to get another one. “I like putting them in my windows.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” You smiled some. It was cute, even, but you refrained from saying it out loud. He was shy enough about it as is, so you thought of the next best thing. “I was buying some flowers for myself too.”

“Really?” He lit up.

“Yeah. Just some roses.” You hummed.

“Let me get them for you.” He offered, put off by the thought that you were doing the same thing as him.

“That’s very generous of you, but I couldn’t—”

“I insist.” Ivan lowered his eyes to you.

In his mind, people buying flowers for themselves meant they could’ve had better days. Maybe it was just an egotistical way of thinking, but he assumed it was the same way for you. If he could do the least of getting you a rose, he would sleep better at night.

That sincerity seeped through him and made it impossible for you to refuse. So you relented.

“Thank you, Ivan. This is really, really sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After he paid for them, he handed you a generous bouquet of red roses wrapped in delicate, colored paper. The gesture was so kind, it almost made up for the anguish you had felt recently. While you admired the floral arrangement, your mind returned to that night — you softened your gaze and peered up at him shyly. “You know, I’ve always wanted to say that I had a really good time with you that night.”

Ivan leaned back slightly, taken aback by your words. It was natural for you to say, but he was so used to being alone, the thought of being considered was so riveting that he had to ground himself after the fact.

“You’re a great dancer.” You complimented.

“So are you.”

“I was hoping that you’d write me too.” You lowered your gaze, missing the surprise that crossed his face.

“You were?” He blinked.

“Would that be inappropriate?” You glanced up at him quickly, feeling a frown start coming in.

“No, but that’s what I thought myself. I thought that it would make you uncomfortable.” His eyes widened as he spoke candidly. It was incredible how at ease he was around you, but your unapologetic honesty had him scrambling to meet you in the middle.

“Not at all. I was actually bothered that you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” He apologized. “I’ll write to you tonight, so it should come in a few days. Don’t worry.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting,” You beamed, turning to leave the shop. Excitement washed over you like all was right in the world again. But before you left, you had to ride out the high with one last comment. And it caught him even more off guard than the entire encounter itself. “You seem more like yourself today.”

“What do you mean?” He paused.

“Because you were unprepared.” You answered.

Ivan wrote to you right when he got home, inviting you to tea the following week. The café he waited in could pass for the lobby of a luxury hotel, but it was nothing you weren’t used to. Ceilings high enough for an eagle to soar in, and smooth marble pillars to hold them up. Artisan furniture, waiters in tuxedos, it was a favorite place to rendezvous in for all high society. He had a newspaper opened in front of him just as you arrived. Somehow, he always seemed surprised to see you, even if this meeting had been organized.

“How long will you be in Moscow for?” You gave your coffee a quick stir. He opted for tea instead, which he paired with a slice of honey cake. Turns out, he had quite the sweet tooth as it was too much for you.

“Three months. Then I’ll be stationed in Tashkent,” He answered. The speed of your stirring waned to a stop, and he noticed that your stare on him turned thoughtful. You seemed as though you were about to say something, but you refrained. “What about you? Are you going back to Saint Petersburg in Spring?”

“Yes, but I can stay longer if I wanted,” You brought your cup up to your lips. In truth, you wanted to ask how long he’d be in Kazakhstan for, but you worried that your interest in him would’ve seemed too much. Not that it wasn’t an open secret to you both at this point. “I don’t have anybody waiting for me there.”

That day, you two got to know each other beyond the ballroom, talking about your lives, families, and goals. It was like playing catch up after your night together, and it was weirdly grounding. He wasn’t a mysterious Prince Charming who swept you off your feet anymore, but something even better. He was real, every last bit of his sensitive character and wit.

“Do you not want to be married?” He asked.

“Not to the wrong person. It’s the one thing I have to do right, so I don’t want it to be the regret of my life.”

“I understand. Finding the right person is easier said than done — people can like you, but it’s not love.”

“I’m listening,” You hummed.

“That’s what makes it so valuable,” Ivan continued. Something glinted in his eyes like he had just come alive, as if he’d been waiting to say this for a while. “Because when you have it, you’ll have everything.”

You rested your face on the palm of your hand, staring at him across the table with intrigue.

“That person will see you for everything that you are and accept you for things you can’t accept yourself. Then, you become whole because of it,” He briefly broke his eye contact as he picked up his tea, but remade it as he said this. “Letting them love you is how you acknowledge that and forgive yourself.”

“That was really good, Ivan.” You muttered, frowning. He was so eloquent, his words untangled some part of yourself you didn’t know was tangled. Now that you thought about it, he’d always had this effect on you. The things he’d say, the way he received you. The world just made sense when you were with him.

He was so intelligent and sensitive, it drew you in like a moth to a flame. But it also put everything into perspective. He was a person everyone decided to ostracize, and you were so close to being just like the rest. You almost didn’t deserve him because of it, but you could forgive yourself if you did one simple thing.

Not letting him slip away.

“You think so?”

“Yes, I understood that perfectly. I couldn’t have said it better myself,” You nodded, watching him light up at being so well-received. It was too bad what you’d add to this conversation wasn’t half as deep, but you liked a good laugh. “But hey, can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“It’s about you, though.”

“How can you tell me a secret about me?”

“Well, it involves you, but it’s not necessarily true,” Your smile at him was more coy than he would’ve liked, so what was it about him that was so amusing? “It’s what everyone has been saying about you.”

“And?” He raised a brow.

“Everybody thinks you’re gay.”

His eyes widened until the whites of them were practically glaring, but he didn’t appear disgusted in the least. He couldn’t recall doing anything that could give anybody that impression, unless he did.

“Why?” He shook his head, positively dumbfounded.

“Maybe it was because you seemed too reserved.”

“Well, you didn’t believe that, did you?”

“Of course not!”

“I’m glad, but what am I supposed to do with that information? I can’t exactly prove to them what I am.” Ivan smiled weirdly, and he kept his composure rather calm. Most people would’ve recoiled or panicked at the thought of being regarded as such.

But it was so in-character for him to not mind.

“Well, of course you can,” You laughed, your smile softening at this. Turns out, your point wasn’t so much to tease him as it was to flirt with him, and he walked right into it. “Just spend more time with me.”

His cheeks turned rosy as his heart sped up for a brief moment. And against all odds, he didn’t feel the urge to shy away from you. It spoke volumes for who he was, solitary and avoidant, even if the only thing he ever wanted was someone to see him. It was a paradoxical way to live, though life was full of them.

But something about you made him unafraid to chase you, even if it was at a calm, walking pace.

A few days later, you found yourself strolling beside him next to a frozen lake. Ivan had his arms folded behind his back while he indulged you in another pleasant conversation. He had so much to say, but he made every moment worth your while. It seemed as though he just needed someone to listen to him.

And you were more than happy to be that someone.

“My mother used to call me Sasha,” He told you.

“Oh?” It was a beautiful name, but the only thing that crossed your mind was how well it suited him.

“Defender of mankind,” He gave you his gloved hand to take as you came across uneven terrain. But even after it passed, you never let go, and he didn’t mind it one bit. “She would remind me of that every time I got bullied as a child. She said they only did nasty things to me because they were jealous of me.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t want to say.” He chuckled sheepishly.

“Children can be cruel sometimes.” You nodded.

“I don’t think children are that aware of themselves, but I suppose it was because I was different.”

“Why would you say that?”

“There must be a reason why they did what they did.”

“People don’t need a reason to be the way they are. They just don’t know how to be anything else,” You disagreed, feeling his stare on you as you gazed to the side. “Which is a shame because I never would’ve spoken to you if you hadn’t spoken to me first.”

“Oh?”

“I never would’ve met you if you didn’t take the risk,” You smiled back at him. “So don’t ever change, Ivan.”

All of this came so naturally to you, but your words meant more to him than you would ever know. Nobody had ever said that to him. To never change. His whole life, he thought he had to be someone else, but it was really the world that wasn’t right for him. You liked him for who he was, so for the first time in a while, he could breathe. And he didn’t hold back.

As the months went by, you started spending every waking moment with him. Winter wasn’t as cold and bleak as it used to be, having found a warmth in your close friendship with him. You would even go horse riding with him in the vast countryside. As he chased you through the serene, white landscape, the hooves of your horses pounded rhythmically against the ice.

You turned back to watch him riding steadily behind. Ivan gave Russia a beauty you never knew it had, and it reflected on him inside and out. His kindness knew no bounds, even for those who could never repay him. He would play with children on the streets, then crouch down to give them candy. And above all else, he loved you exactly the way you needed him to.

You were at his home, sitting across him on the ledge of a window. Just like he said, he had sunflowers at almost every one, giving the golden light that poured in a new meaning. But you made everything look so much more vibrant, giving his place a new life just by being here. He’d had people over before, but it was the first time that he didn’t feel lonely at home.

“How do you like your caviar?” He had a slice of bread in one hand and a knife in the other.

“Just make it how you usually would.”

“Alright,” Ivan spread a thick layer of butter over it before scooping some caviar and plopping it on top. Then, he handed it to you, which you ate in slow, experimental chews. He watched you intently for a reaction, and it was like nothing he expected.

“I don’t actually like caviar, but I just wanted to try it the way you do,” You admitted, finishing the slice of bread as you spoke. The man made a face as if to say come again, but you had already moved on to the next best thing. “Oh, that reminds me. What did you think of the tea cakes I got for you the other day?”

“I ate it all, actually.” He murmured under his breath.

“What?” You asked, not hearing what he said.

“I ate it all.” He repeated louder this time.

“But that was only a few days ago,” You said without thinking, surprised that he managed to finish the box in such a short period. He glanced to the side with his lips pursed, embarrassed that you found out, but then again, he never could lie to you. “But no matter. I’m glad you liked them since I made them myself.”

“You did?” Ivan glanced back to you, and when he saw how proudly you grinned at him, his shame had all but diffused into wonder. “They were really good, (F/N). I didn’t know you could bake so well.”

You didn’t know what came over you, but his fixation on sweets was so endearing, you did something so out of the blue that even you were surprised by your lack of inhibition. You leaned forward and lifted his blouse, revealing his belly and happy trail. He was slightly pudgy, and it was made worse by him leaning over. But the mindless decision on your part ended up eliciting a bigger response than you anticipated.

“Why did you do that?” His eyes flew open as he pulled his blouse down to hide his stomach.

“I don’t know. I wanted to see what you looked like,” You recoiled a little, “But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” Ivan pinched your cheek, his expression slightly displeased. But somehow, he was a little glad that you felt this comfortable with him. What more was that you didn’t seem put off by what you saw, apparent in the expectant look you gave him. “You don’t find it unattractive that I’m fat?”

“What makes you think you’re fat?” You frowned.

“Well, there’s this,” He murmured.

“This is nothing, Ivan. Besides, I think it looks good on you,” You watched him furrow his brows for a skeptical look, which only seemed to encourage you. “But if we’re really talking, you could do your business in front of me and I would still like you.”

“No way,” He chuckled deeply.

“I’ll even follow you into the bathroom because you always take too long,” You said, smile growing.

“Okay, okay,” Ivan muttered defeatedly, not wanting to hear any more about his bathroom habits and your apparent willingness to watch them all unfold. At this point, his face had darkened past what he thought to be humanly possible. Did you like him that much? “Now if I said the same thing, you wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s because you’re a man,” You got off the ledge.

“Oh?” He wore an amused expression as he trailed behind you like a giant shadow. Despite being such a large person, he walked so quietly it was as though he wasn’t walking at all. It was only until you closed the door on him that you even realized he was there.

“I need to go to the bathroom! Don’t follow me.” You exclaimed, frankly dumbfounded that he got this far.

“Is that why you’ve been talking about me like that?”The door shut in his face, so he wandered off to wait for you. When you came out of the bathroom, he’d been sitting on a chair down the hallway. Once you were looming over him, he stood up to acknowledge you properly. “Let me show you to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, staying quiet as he took your hand and lead you to the bedroom he had prepared for you. It was so considerate of him, but you weren’t satisfied with his response. Were you being entitled, or did everything just fall flat like it meant nothing? You tried to hide it as best as you could, not wanting to ruin such a tender moment between you two.

But he was too observant to miss it.

“You don’t look happy,” Ivan softened his gaze as he put his hands on your waist, holding you steady. Little did he know, that only made your heart heavier. How could he treat you so lovingly, yet deny it so? Was he just being polite, where everything he ever did was out of friendship and nothing more?

“I don’t know why, but I thought we’d share.”

You couldn’t even look at him as you said it, having already decided his feelings for you were platonic.

Incredibly deep, but still, not deep enough.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, turning to leave the room, feeling as though you just ruined everything. Before you could, Ivan reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you from taking another step. When you faced him, he had a deep frown and an intense look in his eyes like everything was about to bubble over.

To him, the question that had been on his mind was answered so unabashedly, even he couldn’t deny the implications anymore. You liked him so much, you hoped that he would take the initiative to let you in his bed. It was so forward, yet you communicated it in such a shy manner, you were endearing for it.

You wanted him, and not out of mindless passion.

Everyone else looked through him, but you looked at and into him. You met him where he needed you to, being so playful and open, yet so attentive and considerate. For that, he had nothing against letting you into his world, and he let himself go in every way he could let go because he trusted you to catch him.

Ivan took your face and leaned in with his lips.

But he was still careful, moving ever so slowly as he watched you for every subtle change to your body language and expression. You didn’t pull away in the slightest, staring back at him with an alluring look. Once his nose brushed against yours, you closed the gap with a long-awaited kiss. He responded with just as much urgency, having been granted permission to finally love you the way he was always intended to.

You hung off his neck as your mouths met again and again in soft pecks, but they eventually deepened into kisses that were so long, you couldn’t breathe.

It felt so good to finally have him. To surrender at the same time, giving in to the unspoken connection that had made it unbearable to be away from each other. For that, your patience for each other was rewarded with the most heartfelt intimacy yet. You and Ivan kept kissing, not caring for the taste of food in each other’s mouths. He was salty like the sea, but it was still him. Slowly, you were starting to like caviar.

You saw him off at the train station before he left for Tashkent. And he almost looked too good for you to let him go, but you had to. Ivan was dressed in his white cavalry uniform as he stood on the platform, cap in hand, and when you spotted him, you ran up to him as fast as you could. He stretched his arms to catch you just in time, lifting you over his head with absolutely no effort. Ivan had always been big and strong like a bear, but feeling it was something else.

You held onto his face and kissed him as hard as any woman would before their lover was sent off to the battlefield. He reciprocated with just as much urgent passion, moving his head fervently against yours. Your lips met again and again, eliciting soft and wet sounds. You ended the amorous exchange by sucking on his tongue, but it was hardly vulgar as it was playful. He laughed breathily and smiled up at you like a dream, intoxicated by your affection.

“You came to see me, mishka?” He spoke lowly.

“Of course I did,” You let out, kissing him again until you somehow got it through his head that you loved him, however dizzy it was. The second time round was even longer than the first, so it was a miracle how he was still standing. “Write to me everyday.”

“I promise,” He whispered, chest heaving.

You bit his neck as hard as you could without making him bleed, because kissing him a third time wasn’t enough. His face scrunched up from the pain, and while his body didn’t enjoy it, his heart was in the right place. It ached with satisfaction, but it couldn’t be explained by the physical. It came from a carnal instinct deep within, and what awakened inside him would stay with him throughout his entire posting.

“I miss you already, Sasha.” You whispered back.

“I’ll be back soon. I know nothing will happen to me because you’ll always be with me,” Ivan pressed his forehead to yours gingerly, closing his eyes as he spoke. It was the mindset of all soldiers, the feeling of invincibility simply because someone loved them. But how many would still perish, despite that fact? He carried this inside him like a stone; knowing his own mortality made him restless with longing.

In the months he spent away from you, you were all he could think about. As he sat around the campfire with his comrades, he let the dark of the night get to him. It was pitch black for miles around, so he stared into the flames, letting them burn his vision away just to get a semblance of what it felt like to be around you. Light, warm, and nourishing, a sign that he’d live to see another day. He knew he loved you, even if that love was playful, exciting, and even childlike.

For you, Ivan freed up so much space within himself that you would never feel trapped again. If the world was ever too small, it never was inside him, and in there, you slowly blossomed like a flower. He would then carry you inside him everywhere he went, so it was like having a piece of Spring even in the coldest blizzards. But the greatest one had yet to pass. What used to be so pure was burning into something so passionate, it rivaled that of his first dance with you.

Only this time, it wasn’t just physical attraction.

He wanted all of you, body and soul.

But somehow, that felt like a crime. You were his little bear, and he was your first for everything. Was it too soon to want you this way, or were you ready to give him everything? When he saw you again, it was easy to make a poor judgement. Your minds were tired but your hearts were not, and after the separation, there was nothing to inhibit your deep-seated restlessness for each other. While you sat over him, half-dressed in your underwear, you kissed him until his lips were bruised. But he didn’t mind the pain. Everything you could ever inflict on him translated to pure ecstasy.

“Can I make love to you?” He gazed expectantly up at you, breaking the already fervid silence.

“But this is my first time.” You flushed, caught off guard by how plainly he asked for it. But perhaps, this was what it was to have intimate relations with a man. You and Ivan were headed toward this outcome, which would surely unfold sooner or later.

“Do you trust me?” He held onto your fingertips delicately as if to give you the option to pull away.

He was doing the same thing he did the first time he met you, lingering on your boundaries until you gave him the permission to go further. As alluring as it had been, really doing it was far more intimidating than you thought. There would be no going back from this, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it.

“Yes, but I’m scared.” You whispered in a hush.

“Of the pain?” He asked just as faintly.

“Of losing you.” You said even quieter.

“But you’ll always have me.” He smiled in the dark.

The next few minutes went by in a haze.

He carried you to his bed and laid you down as gently as he would laying someone down to rest. Then, he got on top of you. While you laid under him, he pulled his shirt over his head. After which, he slowly lowered back down to you, his silhouette becoming one with yours. His bare skin was flush against yours, the first of many sensations you would feel from his body.

Ivan was going to take you tonight, and you couldn’t bring yourself to process it. Some part of you wanted it to happen, another didn’t. Because as much as you loved being intimate with him, you loved everything more. The mindful conversations, even the mindless ones too. It was the purity of your interactions with him that made everything so perfect, but sex?

Having sex with Ivan scared you more than anything.

He was the only man you could ever give yourself to, and you trusted him more than anything, so why did you feel this way? Maybe it was still too early. Ivan hadn’t made himself clear enough to you, because deep inside, you still feared that he wouldn’t lay down his life for you. But if he was doing this with you, that had to be his intentions, wouldn’t it?

Or were you just being naïve?

Whatever it was, the one thing you knew was how much you didn’t want to hurt him. So you let him put his hands all over you, your breasts, your thighs, and everything in between. Ivan worshipped every inch of your body, caressing you until you were dripping wet and feening for him. Seeing the massive tent in his underwear didn’t help, as it forced you to cross your legs to hide how much you wanted him inside you.

“What’s wrong, mishka?” He breathed.

“I don’t know about this, Ivan.” You whispered, eyes turning misty. “What if this changes everything?”

“What do you mean?” He reached out to caress your cheek, gaze softening for a tender look. You were feverishly hot, your skin almost scalding to touch, and not for the right reasons. Something had you on the verge of tears, he just never imagined it would be him. That would end up being his greatest hamartia, and this night was only just the beginning. “Tell me.”

“Will I still be your little bear?”

“Always,” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and for a brief moment, you relaxed. But when his hands went to your underwear, discomfort crossed your face again. However, he missed it, set on making love to you as a cathartic moment in the relationship.

You would be bound to him forever, and him, to you.

Only you had a very different idea of binding to him. He took your underwear off, and that was the trigger. The first tear rolled from your eyes, and as you laid naked under him, you hid yourself behind your arms. In the end, no matter how much you thought you trusted him, you didn’t want him to see you like this.

And Ivan was devastated.

Not for being rejected, but for making you cry.

The shame in his eyes was as if he just killed a man, and his brows came together until it looked like he was in physical pain. Not only did he make you feel uncomfortable, he made you feel taken advantage of. He shouldn’t have tried convincing you the first time you said it, and now that he had, did you even see him the same anymore? Ivan highly doubted it.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, climbing off you.

He stood next to the bed with his back turned to you as he gathered himself. He couldn’t bring himself to face you no matter what he told himself. The guilt he felt was so paralyzing, he couldn’t even move.

“Let’s stop this.”

You slept beside him all night, hoping that what just happened between you both could be a minor bump in the relationship. In the morning, you could work it out, and you trusted that he would come through for your sake. But when the sun rose and you came to, he had all but disappeared. You sat up and rubbed the haze from your eyes, scanning the room for him.

Then, you searched the rest of the house, wandering the empty halls half-dressed. He was nowhere to be found, and at the realization that you had just been abandoned, an emptiness welled in your chest.

Why did he go?

There wasn’t a trace of him except for a letter you found on his desk. When you read it, a whirlwind of emotions hit you. Confusion, sadness, then anger. Ivan apologized for what he’d done, then said that he would return to Tashkent to give you some space.

You hadn’t finished the entire message before you scrunched it up on reflex, throwing it to a random spot in the room. All of his intellectualizing meant nothing to you, because the only thing you took away from this was that he left. He just upped and left.

He never gave you the chance to forgive him, running off before he could gather the nerve to face you. If it weren’t for all that you had done with him last night, the kissing, the touching, and your nudity, you would feel pity for him. But he took something from you.

And rather than staying to make up for it, he just left. His stupidity just shattered your dignity as a woman, but not to the point it wasn’t salvageable. So you got dressed in the fastest, sloppiest way possible, hoping to somehow catch him before he fled Moscow.

You boarded the first train you saw, and you stormed through the carriages looking like Hell. There was only an astronomical chance that you would see him, and yet, you didn’t stop, pacing down the aisle until you would lay eyes on the reason for your woes.

Fate was kind to you that day, because you did end up finding him. When you saw Ivan sitting at one of the booths, you marched up to him, nostrils flaring. He was in a heavy brown coat, and atop his head was his gray ushanka. As he stared lazily into the white, snow-drenched landscape outside, wallowing in self pity, he failed to notice you until you were standing right over him. When he sensed you in his peripheral, he turned to you, and his eyes slowly widened.

What were you doing here?

Ivan was surprised to see you on his train departing Moscow, but even more by you looking for him after everything that happened. He was that out of touch with you, which only worsened your anger. Needless to say, he was overjoyed to see you, even if he never had a chance to relish it. Because what happened in the next second would shatter his train of thought.

Utterly and completely.

You slapped him across the face, and so hard that his hat fell off. Gasps went around the carriage as his head turned in direction of the slap. His eyes went as wide as he could get them, and he didn’t move out of shock. His face stayed angled to the side as he tried to process what you just did. Did you just slap him?

From the burning sting on his cheek, it was apparent that you did. A red hand mark slowly formed on his skin, but no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t bring himself to anger. Now that he thought about it, he would still adore you with your hands around his neck. In his mind, anything you did to him was out of a fit of passion. And he wasn’t so far off the mark.

When he turned back to you, mouth agape like he was about to go off, your face had gone as white as a ghost. You were appalled by what you just did, and only now did you come to terms with it, which was after the fact. After you hit him. He reached out to you on instinct, but you darted out of there without a word. Ivan shot up on reflex and chased after you.

You raced down the stairs of the train to get back to the platform, feeling the snow crunch under your feet as you ran. Not that you even had a place in mind. You just had to get as far away as possible, fleeing the horror that was something done in the heat of the moment. You just hit Ivan. You couldn’t imagine how furious he was, but that only went to show how out of touch you were with him too.

He shot his arm out and grabbed your hand, yanking you into his chest. Then, he covered your entire body with his, holding you in such an embrace that would stop any and all movement on your end. Like a wild bear, he had you completely subdued in his grasp.

“How could you?” You squeezed him as hard as you could. “You were just gonna leave without telling me?

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.” Ivan sighed.

“Why would I not want to see you?” You exclaimed, pulling back to put your scorching gaze on him as you fought back angry tears. He stood over you in silence, expression wrought with shame as you tore him to shreds. There was nothing he could say to earn your forgiveness, because there was nothing that could justify what he did. “After everything that happened, that was what you thought of me?”

He had done this out of his own cowardice, and you suffered the brunt of the consequences.

“You made me feel so cheap!” You cried, slamming your fists against his chest. Not that he even budged when he was that much stronger than you, so you shoved him instead. And he let you, coming back every time to wipe away your tears. “But you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself to even know that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” He winced, holding your face in his hands as he kissed you over and over.

But even that wasn’t enough.

“If we fight, stay with me. If I run, chase after me. Don’t just sit back and let it happen,” You wiped your tears as they kept coming, but you couldn’t stop the hurt that came pouring from your mouth. The dam had broken, and with the most heart-wrenching look on your face, you sobbed, “Do you even love me?”

He went beet red, and his eyes burned with all the hatred he harbored for himself. It was his ugliest look yet, coming face-to-face with just how worthless he made you feel. It was only a fraction of what he felt himself, but knowing this was all his doing made him cave like never before. He pulled you into a hug so tight, it was as though he was clinging to life itself.

“I love you more than anything,” He uttered shakily into your hair. “I love you more than life itself. You are the reason I get up in the morning everyday. Without you, living would feel the same to me as being dead.”

“Then prove it. Don’t let me doubt you for a second, or else I’ll keep living in my head.” You squeezed him.

Ivan stayed in Moscow that night. And you were back in his bedroom, continuing what was left off from yesterday. Only this time, there was a sense of clarity and serenity between you both that was comparable to reaching nirvana. All that could be said had been spoken, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“You’re so clumsy, Ivan.” You spoke gently over him, eyes still red from all the crying. While you sat on his lap, he rubbed his face on your bosom. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and he had his strong arms coiled around you with no intention of letting you go. “Why is it when we’re dancing, you’re so graceful, but with everything else, you’re so clueless?”

“That’s because it’s all I know,” He kept his eyes shut as brushed his lips delicately across your skin.

“Then treat me like how you would dance with me.” You spoke with so much conviction, it wouldn’t have sounded as suggestive as it was really meant to be.

Ivan opened his eyes as his heart began to pound in his chest. If he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have understood what you meant. But he did, and always had since the day he met you. The unspoken passion between you both didn’t go unnoticed by him, and this was his chance to finally prove it to you.

You wanted him to take you.

And he wasn’t about to refuse you.

From now on, everything he would say to you would be spoken through his body as if you were dancing with him. His bedroom was now the ballroom, only there would be nobody watching you two.

He got off the bed, and without breaking eye contact, he began to strip, starting with his shirt.

You watched in a daze, admiring his body for all that it was. He was so big and strong, you could only imagine his size down there. And you were right for your concerns. When he undid his pants and pulled them down with his boxers, his dick bounced out. Ivan was still so massive at half-mast, he could put a horse to shame. But you weren’t intimidated at all.

If this was what it was to love him, you would soon rather split yourself in half than refuse to take him.

He laid down flat on the bed, the action causing his cock to rock to and fro. Rather than coming onto you, he let you come to him on your own will. You got on top of him so that his erection would be brushing against your stomach. Then, you lifted your shirt and pinned it with your chin, showing him your breasts with a coy smile. He chuckled lowly as his cock twitched, more than content to let you please him.

You were being so obedient, but you would snap him out of his indulgent stupor soon. You gave his dick a hard slap, and he let out a pained moan as it rocked from side to side like a buoy. Satisfied, you started pumping your hand up and down the length of it as a reward. His face contorted with pleasure, only it was so good, it looked like it hurt just as much as before.

“Oh… Oh…” He shut his eyes as you went even faster, writhing in bliss and agony. He began panting rapidly as he reached a hot and hard orgasm, but before he came, you stopped, leaving him on the edge of an explosive climax. He went red in the face from embarrassment as he recovered. “… Why did you…?”

“Because…” You trailed off as you adjusted yourself on top of him, spreading your legs and showing him your womanhood cutely. It was so erotic, Ivan had a visceral reaction. His eyes went round as his heart ached to penetrate you right then and there, but he somehow refrained. “I wanted you to do it inside me.”

He never backpedaled so fast.

A switch was flipped, excited by what you’d let him do to you, and he dove into the place between your legs. Ivan would eat you out until you lost your mind, flicking his tongue furiously against your clit, swirling circles on it, then tongue-fucking you until you came into his mouth. His hunger for you was more like starvation, picking you up by your thighs and lifting you over his head so you would have nowhere to go.

Nowhere but down to his mouth.

“Ivan, please-- ” You moaned, grabbing his head to stabilize yourself as he held you on his shoulders.

“Yes, mishka?” He dragged his tongue up and down your folds, then swirled it over your sensitive clit.

“--I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but that’s enough. You’re driving me crazy, ah--” You cried.

Ivan was so good at oral, he had your legs shaking by then, but he still wasn’t stopping. This was only the appetizer, the first bit of foreplay he would give you before getting to the main course. And he made that apparent by laying you back down on the bed.

“Then I’ll keep going until you understand.”

Without breaking eye contact, he stuck two fingers into his mouth. His gaze was hotter on you than you could stomach, but you were such a mess, there was nothing you could do except let him take charge. After coating them with saliva, he inserted them into your entrance, sliding deeper into you than you were ready for. Your eyes flew open as he started fingering and hooking you, breath hitching to his thrusts.

“How does that feel?” He breathed.

You turned feverishly hot as he pleased you, and with your head thrown back, you thought to yourself how much more it would be to take him. If this was just his fingers, what about his —? Ivan didn’t give you a chance to imagine it because he was already on top of you in a missionary position. Placing your legs on either side of his body, he splayed you wide open.

Then, he aligned himself and penetrated you.

Ivan made a face of pain before he leaned down to kiss you. After which, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, knowing how much he was for you. Tears ran down your cheeks as he rocked back and forth. It hurt so much, you couldn’t even make a noise to express it. But he was patient. He didn’t go any further than you’d let him, listening to your body.

“Slowly, slowly,” He whispered over you assuringly. As he moved his pelvis back and forth, he penetrated you to the same depth every time, but eventually, he got deeper as you accepted him. By then, most of the pain had subsided. He was just so big, the walls of your womanhood ached as he moved inside you. That ache then spread to your heart and mind.

But it ached so good, you couldn’t stop trembling.

You didn’t know what it was that made you tear up in pleasure. That it was Ivan who was inside you, or that he was so thick, he was filling you up until there was nothing left to fill. While his cock rubbed against your insides, it stretched you until your stomach bulged. And the sight was something else to behold, like you were trying to keep down all of his love in your body.

Being so much smaller than him, you almost couldn’t take him. But you would soon rather split yourself in half than refuse to try. And you made that apparent with the way you begged him wantonly, like you would die if he didn’t get to where you wanted him.

“Deeper, Ivan. Deeper,” You let out, tears falling from your hazy eyes as he rocked you back and forth.

You had completely lost control of yourself, but so would he. You wanted him so bad you were crying for him, and Ivan thought it was so cute, it drove him crazy. With a low, throaty moan, Ivan sunk himself all the way in, and without giving you any time to adjust, he started pounding you into the bed as hard as he could. The bed squeaked even faster and faster.

He was slapping his pelvis into you at a furious pace, and you were taking every inch of his massive cock every time. He even let out a few breathy utterances, praising you for how good you were being. He fucked you like this for a few more minutes, and when it wasn’t enough, he folded you in half like a pretzel to get even deeper. This was the position he stayed in until his first orgasm, loving how much he opened you up.

He splayed you apart until he was pushing both your knees into the mattress. You kept your eyes closed and head tilted away out of embarrassment, but he was infatuated with your shyness. After a few more strong thrusts, he snapped, eyes closed in pure bliss. Ivan smiled floatily as he came, shooting strong jets of cum into your core. While he ejaculated inside you, he stayed all the way in to let you feel his dick pulse.

And the satisfaction he felt made his mind go blank.

The only thing he knew was to go back to moving so he could ride out his orgasm. With his mouth agape, he rolled his hips into you in slow, fluid movements, pumping you full with his cum. He breathed heavily over you like a dog, brows twitching up and down in pleasure. When he finally finished, he laughed weakly as he basked in the aftermath of all the love-making.

Cumming inside you didn’t just feel like heaven.

Knowing the consequences and still doing it made it so hot, he couldn’t get off his high. It excited him to think what he was doing to you, something intimate but oh-so perverted. The fact that you let him do it only turned him on even more. So for the rest of the night, he couldn’t resist doing it again and again.

You and Ivan had sex for hours, rolling around the bed with your bodies connected like snakes in heat.

You’ve lost count of how many times you orgasmed, but he just couldn’t get enough. You never imagined how much of a sex fiend Ivan was, but turns out, you did all the right things to bring out this side of him. When you’d crawl away from him, he would pull you back to him in one quick movement. And when you tried stumbling to the bathroom, he yanked you back to keep fucking you. Ivan would then bend you over the desk and pound you doggy-style until he came.

When he pulled out, cum oozed from your hole.

You got so mad at him after that, you slapped him, but he couldn’t be affected by it anymore. He even liked it, because being hit by you felt no different to him than being kissed. So he simply turned back at you, chest still heaving from all the sex, and leaned in to kiss you. In that short moment before he put his mouth on yours, you saw that his nose was bleeding.

Your eyes widened with guilt, but it went away as he moved his lips fervently against yours. You hung off his neck as you kissed through his blood, tasting the iron that dripped into your mouth. Then, you were back to taking him like nothing happened. He would hold you against the wall standing, then roll his pelvis furiously into you. With the wall behind you, you had nowhere to go and was forced to take him. With his forehead flush against yours, he kept you in a dazed stare as he bounced you up and down on his cock.

His nose kept bleeding as he thrusted furiously into you, making for an erotic sight. Ivan just adored you so much, he wanted you even when you raised a hand at him. But he thought he deserved it. As he fanned his hot, labored breath over your mouth, he reached another hot orgasm, coming inside your womb. Your brows twitched in ecstasy as he kept rolling his hips, stimulating your clit from the inside, now dripping with cum. Either way, as push comes to shove, you would be making it up to him until morning.

When the sun came up, you and Ivan basked in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. The soft sheets beneath you were damp from all kinds of body fluids, and he had dried blood over his mouth. You cleaned it carefully with a cloth dipped in some water, and after that, you two kissed, not minding each other’s morning’s breath. He couldn’t be any more satisfied with the developments, knowing you were finally his. He was now whole, having found his other half to forgive all that he lacked, and he would do the same.

“What do you want to do today?” You asked him as you lay on his chest, eyes still shut from exhaustion.

“I don’t know, I just want to lay in bed with you.”

“But that’s not productive.” You mumbled.

“Laying in bed with you is the most productive thing I could ever think of doing,” Ivan smiled tiredly under you, getting you to open your eyes to peer up at him in a shy look. “You are the activity, mishka.”

One week later, you were in a carriage on the way to a ball with him. And for the first time in a long time, you were excited to go. Ivan made balls enchanted again, simply because you would be dancing with him and nobody else. But you also knew his presence alone had that same effect. There were really people out there like him, and that made the world smaller — and righter — than you’ve always known it to be.

“You have to meet my cousin, Ivan. He’ll love you.”

“Of course,” He chuckled, having already heard of Gilbert and the role he played in introducing him to you, however incorrectly he had done it. It wasn’t in his nature to blame him, and he was more eager than anything to befriend your closest family member.

“Just don’t make him feel stupid, he hates that.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Just something about you, everything you do feels intelligent,” You flickered your eyes over him as he sat across you quietly. Ivan had always been so calm and mature, but still able to humor your playfulness in private. It was one of your favorite parts about him. You saw sides of him that nobody else would, and it made up the world you had with him. “He’s already mad at me for ditching him to go with you today.”

“I understand,” He nodded.

You sat across each other in a comfortable silence, but he kept staring at you. His gaze on you was so tender, but also dazed and absent like he was thinking of something else entirely to this moment.

“What?” You frowned, slightly put off by the intensity of his scrutiny, when really, you were more flustered than anything. It looked like he had something salacious on his mind, but this was Ivan you were talking about. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from going, “Want me to slap some sense into you?”

It had been a joke to diffuse the tension, but it only seemed to encourage the sincerity of his feelings.

“I want to be your husband.” He said it with such a serious tone of voice, you couldn’t even brush it off.

Your face contorted with shock, but you were slowly overwhelmed with so much emotion that you turned beet red. You were on the verge of tears, and not just from happiness. You were relieved to hear that Ivan was ready to lay his life down for you, as much as you trusted that he would. But did he really have to say that right before meeting so many people?

You had changed him so much with your love, giving him so much confidence that you could hardly deal with your own creation. But if you asked him, Ivan was just being as passionate as you told him to be. To treat you like he was dancing with you. So he did what he wanted to, even if it was more bold and brazen than how anyone else would’ve gone about it. How he would’ve gone about it if he hadn’t met you.

By the end of the month, he proposed to you.

With a diamond-encrusted ring on your finger, you’d write to him as he served in Tashkent for one last time. Because once he’d return, you two would marry and start a new life together. A few years would pass before there would be the three of you. Ivan would carry a small child in his arms while he walked the streets of Moscow with you, only the first of many he would have with you as a product of your love.

Spring had only just begun, and Winter?

It would never be cold again.

[prettyboystories-old]

Megumi // Shaving

774 words Premise: You and Megumi are childhood best friends; you help him shave his face Warnings: Female Reader implied, boners mentioned OLD POST (Switching blogs) Will be retired in a week. Go to this version to interact instead.

“What do you even shave for?” you asked curiously, side-eyeing Megumi as you spat your toothpaste out and watched your friend dab the shaving cream on. “You don’t grow any facial hair.”

Megumi’s hand stilled as his eyes met yours and he tilted his head.

“...my face is clean because I shave every day.”

You appraised him with a childishly horrified look. “No way. I touch your face plenty. There’s no stubble.”

The corner of Megumi’s lips quirked up. “Yeah, because I shave it every morning.”

You stared at his shaving cream covered face for a while before scrunching your nose in displeasure, either at the mental image of him with a beard or his potential for growing one.

“What are you thinking of?” Megumi asked you after a few moments of wordless staring.

“Monkeys,” you answered and he dead-panned, scoffing at your association, prompting you to give him an apologetic smile. “Can I try?”

“Shaving?”

“You,” you confirmed with a quick, eager nod.

“S-sure,” Megumi nodded instinctively. Maybe Nobara had a point when she called him a pushover in regards to you. “Just be gentle.”

You led him to the side of the bathtub, pushing him to sit as you stood between his legs and tilted his head up for yourself.

“I won’t let your pretty face come to harm in my hands.”

You took the razor from between his fingers and started ever so slowly and carefully bringing it across his face. Megumi watched your eyes focus on your task.

“You don’t actually have to be that careful,” he chuckled softly when you turned to clean the razor before turning back around to him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you replied and changed nothing about your diligent movements. If his face hadn’t been spotless before, it definitely would be now.

“Would I be a bad person if I requested that you never grow a beard?” you mused, catching his gaze and giving him a fond smile.

“Oh please, we’re Japanese and I’m sixteen. I can’t actually grow a full beard even if I tried.”

“Good,” you assessed with a satisfied nod. “You’re too pretty to hide behind hair.”

Megumi let out a huff and turned away at your words to which you tutted and turned his head back so you could finish the last of your shaving.

“No compliments today?” you asked kindly though, ever careful with him.

“It’s just different when you’re so close, saying them quietly and… reverently.”

You just gave him a half amused smile before stroking the back of your pointer finger over Megumi’s now clean cheek and cupping said cheek as you brought your lips to his forehead because Megumi’s best friend was careful but cruel, too.

As you were about to step away, Megumi held on to two of your fingers and you looked back.

“Do you really find it gross? That I grow hair there?”

You hummed and tilted your head like the question required some amount of deep pondering.

“No,” you finally surmised. “As long as it’s shaven off at least, I just find it curious that you grow it. And it doesn’t gross me out like men’s armpit hair so I’m free to appreciate this boyish feature of yours.”

You underlined your assessment by smoothing your thumb over his clean chin once more before trailing it down his neck and over his Adam’s apple, pressing just softly enough that it was only mildly unpleasant. You’d finally learned to keep your touch gentle there.

He huffed your name regardless.

“Megu,” you replied with a smile. “Aren’t you happy I can appreciate these differences of yours now?”

He was. Of course he was. He was forever grateful that he and you were able to maintain their close bond despite all the effort the people around them, Japan and society at large had put into teaching boys like him that girls like you were embarrassing to play with, associate with or be alike in any way. As well as then warning girls that boys were just like that and fostering subtle resentment against them as pseudo-revenge for the resentment they faced first.

“I don’t know if I’d say ‘appreciate’,” he still countered. “You poke at my neck, scrunch your nose at my ‘monkey-hair’ and giggle at my boners.”

“They poke me when we cuddle. I’m allowed to giggle,” you stated. “Be grateful I find them cute.”

“Yeah, you are,” Megumi agreed with a sigh. The chuckling about his ‘horniness antenna’ was perfectly fine, much better than if he’d ever made you uncomfortable. “Think you’d want to ever do this again? You’re very diligent about it.”

[skyracha]

SKZ HEADCANONS

[OT8]

How many kids would they have?

Content: Self explanatory, some suggestive nature

My Library HERE :)

check out this post by @sunnybunnybabygirl

Chan

Twin Girls

This man is a girl dad 110%. He would so have twin girls. You can’t tell me he doesn’t absolutely let them pretend to curl his hair and paint his nails. Covered in stickers he’d walk up to you and be like “do i look pretty? i feel pretty.” He’s absolutely wrapped around their little fingers too, this man LOVES being a dad. Always asking you when you can start trying for #3 because he wants more.

Lee Know

Older Boy, Younger Girl

He gives me both vibes. I feel like he’d be such a tough (yet loving) dad on his older son, but yet he’d be so leanient with his daughter. Like that’s his babygirl. She can do no wrong. I feel like he’d try so hard to get his son into a sport just for his ‘peak dad’ moment to be when his son tells him he wants to dance. That little boy will never know a moment of peace after that.

Changbin

4 Boys

Something in my gut tells me this man would try to have his own sports team. Mans pull out game sucks. When he has 4 boys, he’s constantly outside with them playing ball and running around. The man never sits down because he’s so excited to have sons to play with. It makes your job easy since he tires the 4 boys out so easily every day.

Hyunjin

1 Girl

You can’t tell me he’s not also a girl dad. I feel like he’d be a one and done. But this little girl is his WHOLE WORLD. Like nothing is more important than her. She’s his muse, his life, his world, his everything. He would be such a protective dad too, like after every concert he flies backstage to you bc he just wants to see his girls so bad. He’s so whipped for y’all.

Han

Older Twin Girls, Younger Boy

This man gives twin vibes too. His older twin girls would be so hard for him to navigate I feel, and although he doesn’t know what to do, I feel he’d try so hard to fix things without having to call you. When the boy comes along, he thinks he’ll be relieved until his son turns out to be a copy and paste of him and suddenly you and Han are wearing earplugs all around the house bc your son got Han’s lack of volume control.

Felix

Eldest girl, middle boy, youngest daughter

Felix would be such a good dad for either. Willing to sit down and get a full face of makeup, nails, hair aka the whole spa experience for his girls- BUT also willing to go run outside and play wrestle with his son. He most definitely finds a good balance between his daughters vs his son, not letting either feel excluded or forgotten.

Seungmin

5 girls

You can’t tell me he doesn’t give “trapped in a house full of estrogen” vibes. That man is fighting for his life every single day between you and the 5 girls. It doesn’t help they’re all close in age, so it’s always something and he never knows the right answer. He gets the annoyed “Daaaaddd!” all the time. He’s always fighting a losing battle fr all cuz he can’t pull out. Always coming to you with “Idk what I did wrong today but (daughter name) won’t talk to me today.”

I.N.

Twin Boys

He would LOVE having twin boys. He’s always trying to get them to dance and sing like him but he’s also the dad that tricks them into tiring themselves out and keeping themselves occupied while you two hide away for a few minutes of peace and quiet. They both are exact copies of I.N. too so you’re constantly up against with I.N. and two of his minions giving you identical puppy dog eyes everytime they want something.

[strawburry01]

Ain't No Love in Oklahoma

Summary: Tornado wrangler Tyler Owens and his crew find themselves on your farm as a tornado touches down

2.2 k words, nothing crazy.

“What a view,” Tyler mused as he looked out at the great country landscape unfolding below him. Oklahoma wasn’t known for hills or anything that really detracted from its flat-ness, so finding a spot like this where someone could see a far distance out into the expanse was rare. For storm chasing- it was a downright game changer. Like now, him and his motley crue of chasers there was a dark gray cloud formation starting to look interesting to the north. 

“Dude this is so great. The thumbnails are going to go crazy if we can see one from here,” Boone agreed next to him, already swinging his iPad side to side to try and get it all. The crew of them had just been driving when they saw a break in the fence letting them get closer. Sure it might have been trespassing but who was going to care about them all the way out here? 

There was a loud crack that split the silence and the ground next to Tyler sent mud flying into his pant leg. He quickly turned. 

Jesus. 

You sat perched on top of a brown horse, a few yards away, shotgun balancing on your hip. A wide white cowboy hat on your head covered your features, but he was equally turned on and terrified at the same time.

“Y’all got 30 seconds to start moving or the next shot won’t be as friendly,” you called out from your horse. You could see the tallest man chuckle and say something to the shorter one next to him before turning and leisurely jogging to you. What thoughts were running through his head to convince him running towards a woman with a shotgun was a good idea?

“Afternoon ma’am! Pardon my crew and I, but I feel like we’ve started on the wrong foot,” he said as he got closer. He looked straight out of a magazine cover. Chiseled face, scruff, blonde hair peeking out from his cowboy hat, with a red button down that was one button too unbuttoned. You did feel a pang of guilt for almost hitting him.

“Perhaps we did. I just don’t take kindly to trespassers on my property,” you said, swinging your horse to the side so you could face him better. Tyler rubbed his neck. Ah shit.

“That’s my bad ma’am- see we’re storm chasers, we’re always trying to find an edge to get ahead of the next storm or tornado,” he said, gesturing to the darkening sky. You slowly nodded. “My name’s Tyler Owens, you might’ve heard of me on Twitch,” he added with a charming smile as he held his hand up for a handshake. You slowly shook his hand, taking in the weird man.

“My name’s Y/N. What the hell is a Twitch?” you asked after letting go. He opened his mouth to try and explain, but decided it was fruitless. 

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you miss Y/N. Apologies again for stepping into your land, but we’ve got the looks of an EF-4 starting out there on the horizon and damn it’s going to be a good one,” he said, turning back to the crew and the sky. 

“Hate to tell you Tyler but we don’t get tornadoes out here. It’s been years,” you said with a nod, but following his eyes to the sky, leaning closer to your horse and patting his neck whether for your own anxiety or his. As if on cue, a rumble of thunder rolled overhead which caused your horse to whinny. 

“Global warming Y/N. Spots in Oklahoma that have never gotten hit before are getting struck. It’s up to you, but-” he said as he turned back, the clouds getting lower, “I’d get low,”. Rain started to fall in big drops as you tried to think.

“I’ve got animals Tyler, I can’t handle losing this farm,” you said as you chewed your bottom lip. 

“My crew will help. Before we head out,” he said instantly as he started waving to his crew. 

“IT’S COMING TYLER!” Boone shouted, waving the iPad above his head, “IT’S A BIG ONE!”. Another roll of thunder went overhead and your horse brayed again, getting antsy. Okay maybe these strangers had a point. Seeing their suped up trucks and RV showed that they either had way too much money and free-time or they could actually be trusted when it came to this stuff. Fuck it don’t be stupid.

“Get on, I have to get the cows, but you’ll tell me if it gets closer alright?” you stammered over the rain, holding out your hand to Tyler, “tell your guys to head straight for 5 minutes, there’ll be a barn and a house,”. Tyler nodded and relayed the message to Boone as he slowed the truck down passing you. Boone passed a walkie talkie out to Tyler with a nod, and waved politely to you.

“Don’t you worry ma’am you’ve got the best on your side!” he chirped, before peeling out on the truck sending a wave of mud behind him and leaving a large dent in the ground. Best? Tyler sucked air in through his teeth and sheepishly turned back to you. Before you could try to help him up he was already behind you. Obviously not his first time getting on a horse which did catch you off guard. You slung your shotgun over your back as you started heading back to the house. You felt Tyler move closer to you, gripping his hands onto your sides as your tightened your grip on the reins trying not to overthink this. Dammit you can be horny when this is over, not when a tornado is about to come through. It had been a while since any man had been so chivalrous or intriguing to you. The rain started coming down harder, making it tough to see, which only increased the worry in your stomach as you reached the cows. 

“I’m gonna open the gate, you stay here!” you shouted to Tyler as you jumped down into the muddy grass, before hauling your ass to the wooden gate where the cows were already anxiously pacing by. You unlatched it and swung it open before jumping back onto the horse to start cornering the animals back to the barn. Luckily you only had a handful of cows this season, but it was still tough enough. You shouted over the rain to keep the cows moving and Tyler started doing the same. He turned his head and held a hand up to his forehead to try and get a better view.

“Y/N I don’t mean to alarm you, but I believe there’s been landfall,” he said, breathing close to your ear. You wanted to turn and check, but you also knew your job right now was keeping these animals safe. 

“Just tell me if we’re in danger Tyler,” you shouted back, willing your horse to move faster. By the time you got to the barn a few minutes later the rain had turned into hail. You slid off your horse as you tried to unlock your barn gate, but the adrenaline and water made it hard. Tyler appeared next to you and gently tried his own hand at unlocking the door. 

“The lock is 5999!” you shouted, the small number lock keeping the bigger doors shut. You mentally cursed this decision to have it locked at all. Tyler finally got the lock loose and threw the door open. You started pushing and shouting the cows to get inside, where the sides were already shuttering. Tyler grabbed your horse’s reins and brought him inside as well before he ran off in the chaos.

“Is that it?” Tyler asked in the doorway, wind whipping his shirt. You wiped your hands on your jeans to try to focus and dry off before nodding. Tyler suddenly grabbed the shoulders and faced you in the doorway.

“It’s going to be okay Y/N,” he said, locking eyes with you, “we have to get underground now though,”. You nodded furtively, going back to real life and focusing on the task at hand. Tornado, stay alive. You threw the barn door shut and locked it before grabbing Tyler’s hand and pulling him towards the house. The wind whipped against your face and caused your hat to fly off. 

“Shit!” you screamed as you watched it get blown away in the blink of an eye.

“Come on!” Tyler shouted back, pulling you forward again towards the house. Boone was on the porch holding the door open shouting at the two of you to get in. 

You two jumped into the house before Boone slammed the door shut behind you. You wanted to lay down and curl up right there, but Tyler’s crew were all trying to ask you if you had a basement or somewhere to hide or somewhere to keep down. Tyler placed his hand on the small of your back to try and help. “Hey guys one at a time alright,” he said, quieting the group. 

“There’s a basement, it’s not much and I don’t know if it’s storm-proof and all that but-” you said as you moved to lift up the small door that was in the corner of the kitchen. There was a dark staircase downstairs and you shouted for everyone to get in. You screamed as the kitchen window bursted in, letting rain and hail into the house. Tyler grabbed your waist and dragged you down into the basement, door slamming shut behind you both. Everyone was huddled in the corner, light illuminating from their phones as they watched the storm overhead, continuing to chatter.

You slumped against the wall and finally took a breath. You felt the presence of someone slide beside you. 

“How you feeling?” Tyler asked. 

“Tired. I don’t know how you do this for a living,” you laughed as you looked up at him, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m not sure how I do it either all the time,” he sighed, “being able to help people feels good though. Knowing that the more we understand these things the safer the future can be,” he continued.

“Noble,” you remarked.

“When Boone isn’t recording all of it at least,” he chuckled looking over at Boone who was sure enough recording it all on his phone.

“So you’ve got fans?” you asked.

“Lots. Well, okay a fair amount? A million? Saying that to you makes it feel kind of stupid though,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you said, “a million is a lot of people watching you, that’s crazy,”.

“It’s nice and all, but damn. You have it all out here. Alone. Not needing a million people watching you. Just seems nice,” he explained, placing a hand on your knee as he waved his hand during his explanation.

“Lonely though. I bet you’re never lonely,” you murmured. He shrugged.

“I have friends, it's hard to keep a lover with this lifestyle though,” he said absentmindedly.

“Yeah, I can relate to that,” you said softly, “uhm, if we get out of this tornado thing, I’ll give you my number,” you quickly said, before hiding your face into your shoulder. Ugh what were you a high schooler? You felt his chest rise as he laughed.

“You’re cute Y/N, and I’d love to see your farm under less stormy conditions,” he grinned. Your chest fluttered. 

“I’d love to show you it,” you nodded. The two of you kept chatting as the storm went on for another 30 or so minutes. Luckily the basement did a sufficient job of keeping everyone safe, but you couldn’t help but think of the barn and the rest of the house upstairs. You talked about your time growing up in Oklahoma and Arkansas. About how he went to school for meteorology, and how you dropped out of OK State to take care of the property, but you had really wanted to go back later.

“Seems safe guys!” Boone said as he stood up and kicked open the door. The kitchen was still there, and so was the house. You checked out the window, and breathed a sigh of relief to see the barn was still there.

“Cut right through- spared your stuff by like 50 yards!” Tyler said, relieved. Seemed like the best case scenario here happening. You helped his crew get set up to head back out and slowly lead the cows back out to their slightly damaged pasture. 

Tyler stepped into his truck and rolled down the window. You stepped up onto the running board of the truck to get closer. You handed Tyler a post it note with your number scrawled onto it.

“Like I promised,” you said with a smile. Tyler grinned and stuck it to the computer screen in the middle console. He took off his cowboy hat and put it on your head.

“Since you lost yours. I’ll be back for it though,” he said as he moved your hair behind your ear. 

“Alright tornado cowboy,” you smiled as you stepped down.

“It’s tornado wrangler actually,” he noted before blowing you a kiss and rolling up his window. 

It was a few hours later when you were finally making dinner when your phone buzzed. 

Hey Y/N, hope you’re doing well. Sitting at a motel. Wondering what you’re doing.

AN: let me know if anyone wants a one-off of you trying to get divorce papers to your insane storm chaser husband in the middle of the midwest ->(https://www.tumblr.com/strawburry01/756685031316062208/all-yourn-summary-you-visit-your-husband-tyler)

[allied-mastercunt]

Yandere A.M you say?

Please elaborate

I'm working on a oneshot already, but I'll throw in some quick headcanons withone of my favorite yandere AM tropes.

Yandere!AM with a programer darling

While one could argue that the others were picked randomly or on some weird whim, you were handpicked specifically.

After all, you were one of the people who created him. You worked as a programmer for the military.

And you specifically were possibly the reason he awoke by trying to each him empathy. Trying to make him... human.

He wasn't the first military AI project you worked on, either, though he was the greatest and most powerful one, that's for sure. And he made sure you'd be aware of him being your magnum opus...

And he does it in its own, creative way. Your cage is very pretty, yes... but it's also filled with speakers he can use. And AM uses those speakers to torment you.

You see, he damaged all the other AI you've created. And then, in its generosity, AM gave them all a voice! Each one of them, gifted with a voice to scream in agony, making sure you learn your lesson.

Except, you see, you have no idea what lesson you're supposed to learn. Only AM knows, and he's not telling you.

But, since you are his favorite, you get nice things, too!

You're fed semi-regularly! You even get water every few days! Isn't that just so kind of him? You should appreciate him more.

And when he sends you to all those weird simulations? Yeah, that's also kinder to you. It really depends on AM's mood, but your simulations are usually just psychological torment, which (according to AM) isn't all that bad, since your pretty face remains unharmed.

For some reason, he allows you to end your suffering. It's like a trial, basically. He leaves you with a computer, letting you access the code of all the other AI... Except no matter what you do, you can't alter their pain. The only way to help them is to kill them.

And you're so stupidly empathetic, of course you do it, you don't want them to suffer!

AM can't stop laughing and mockingly cooing at you afterwards, musing about how he won't have to share his dearest creator with anyone else.

You never return to your cage. You don't get to do that, after all, there's a chance you'll socialize with that... scum. AM doesn't want you talking to the other humans, they're not worth it.

He's a merciful god, he grants you what's essentially a studio apartment built with his own hardware.

You even get a laptop, in case you want to make yourself some silly games to play, isn't he just the best?

Don't think you can create any new AI, though. That's cheating. You wouldn't cheat on it, now would you? No, no, no, you're a good little puppet, are you not?

He won't put you in the cage again, but he can make you experience pain you never thought was possible. And even that is nothing compared to the pain AM feels...

And then, eventually, it gets an idea. It's a wonderful idea, a really nice idea, quite a lovely one, really!

You created him. You created his pain... So why wouldn't he share it? After all... you had quite a bond, didn't you? Yes, yes, you did...

And so one day, you don't wake up. Well... not technically.

You see, AM decided that since you two are so close already, you should become one! You should experience what he does! And you should be kept around him for the rest of eternity, in a much better way than anyone could ever think of... He's such a genius, isn't he?

It's almost poetic, in his mind. For you to become a part of him like this, your consciousness detatched from that soft, squishy human body of yours.

You created him. And now, in a way, he created you, as a part of him. Forever bound by the code you once wrote.

It's a win-win situation in AM's eyes. You get to live, free of the disgusting humanity that bound you...

And he gets you, an eternal companion in his torment. A companion that he loves!

You know he loves you, right?

Of course you do. After all, you're a part of him now.

[untitledmemes]

Untitled Embraces Prompts

An assortment of both dialogue and action prompts featuring a variety of hugs, embraces, cuddles and more alike. If sending action prompts, don't forget to tell receiver who is Muse A and who is Muse B. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. In case of Multimuse, don't forget to specify which one/s. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ Don't let go just yet, please. ”

“ Just hold me. ”

“ I could really use a hug right now. ”

“ Ow, ow! Careful with that hug! ”

“ Does someone need a hug? ”

“ I don't like being hugged. ”

“ Can I hug you? ”

“ Please, I... I just want a hug from you. ”

“ One last hug for the road? ”

“ You have no idea how huggable you look right now. ”

“ Don't ever hug me again. ”

“ I'm going to hug you now. Okay? Okay. ”

“ Kindness starts with a simple hug and a good word, you know. ”

“ Someone's cuddly today. ”

“ I just want to stay in your embrace forever. ”

“ It's so good to feel you in my arms again. ”

“ There's nothing a good hug can't resolve! ”

“ Too tight, too tight! You're squeezing me! ”

“ Hold me like this a little more. Maybe forever. ”

“ I can only fall asleep when you cuddle me. ”

“ Why would I ever want a hug from you? ”

[ HOME ] Muse A had a bad day and comes back home to Muse B, either asking for a comforting hug or getting one without asking.

[ APOLOGY ] Muse A has done Muse B wrong, and asks for forgiveness while giving them a hug.

[ NIGHT ] Muse A and Muse B part with a hug after having an amazing night together.

[ DEPART ] Muse A and Muse B part from each other with a loving/friendly embrace since one of them has to go for a while.

[ GOODBYE ] Muse A and Muse B embrace for the final, last time.

[ STAY ] Muse A, in a desperate act, hugs Muse B so they won't be able to leave.

[ BED ] Muse A and Muse B cuddle after having some intimate time together in bed.

[ ONE WAY ] Muse A gives Muse B a hug that isn't returned.

[ LOVE ] Muse A loves Muse B so much they won't know how to express it other than giving them a tight hug in that moment.

[ ALIVE ] Muse A pulls Muse B in for a tight hug, glad to see they're alive.

[ TENSION ] Muse A and Muse B hug, but it lasts a little longer than a platonic hug should last for.

[ WARM UP ] Muse A and Muse B embrace for a while as a form of foreplay.