#this has been sitting on my drafts for so long...

[genshinluvr]

The Boyfriend Brigade

Pairings: Various Love&Deepspace Men x reader

Summary: After being away on a solo mission for quite some time, you return to Linkon City feeling unwell. After failing to respond to text messages, you end up getting unexpected visitors and find yourself in a predicament.

Note: I had this fanfic in the drafts for months and couldn't finish it because of how busy I was ;v; but I finally got to finish it! The next update is another LADS update, but this time, it's a smut fic! I'm not sure if it will be separated by character or if all the men are involved in one smut fic. I'll probably have a spinning wheel choose for me. In case anyone is interested in joining, my Discord server is currently open. If you're interested in joining a small community of people who play LADS alongside Hoyoverse games, I'll provide the server link at the end of this fic. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Mother Nature comes to visit you unannounced, if that counts as one

Word Count: 8.2k

You lean against the tree behind you, trying not to collapse to the ground while in the middle of the woods of a foreign country. You’re exhausted, and things have not been slowing down for you. The metaflux levels are through the roof, and wanderers lurk in every corner, forcing you to stay on high alert (as if you weren’t on high alert already). During the first few weeks of your solo mission, you infiltrated Ever’s secret base two hundred meters from where you’re currently gathering intel on protocores and aether cores. 

Once you have gathered enough information and sent it to the Hunters Association, you continue with your solo mission: handling the wanderers and entering an area with a high protofield. Is it a smart idea to enter a protofield all alone? No, no, it’s not a bright idea, especially now that you’re dealing with endless hordes of wanderers in the woods, sniffing you out like a bloodhound. 

You’re not injured— or at least not horribly injured— but you are feeling under the weather. You barely have the chance to get some rest and sleep. You’re always on your feet, constantly looking over your shoulders to make sure that there aren’t any wanderers ready to strike while you’re trying to take a breather. After what felt like forever, it could be longer than you expected, but you digress— the protofield is stabilized, and you can finally rest after who knows how long. But before you can relax, you decide to return to Linkon City and report to Captain Jenna about your completed mission. On your flight back to Linkon City, you’re knocked out and sleep until one of the flight attendants (bless her heart) wakes you up from your slumber. 

You didn’t inform anyone of your return to Linkon, so you didn’t expect anyone to pick you up from the airport. Usually, it would be Zayne who picks you up from the airport, and sometimes it’s Sylus. So, here you are, sitting at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive. 

Your eyelids feel heavy, and you can barely remain conscious. You lean against the bus stop, trying your best not to nod off. You pull your phone out from your pocket and turn it on. Once your phone finally has connection, a slew of notifications pop up on your screen. From text messages to phone calls to video calls, it just keeps popping up now that your phone has a decent connection after who knows how long. 

RAFAYEL:

“Miss Bodyguard, when are you going to be back from your dangerous solo mission? Personally, I don’t think you should be doing this mission alone, but that’s just me.”

“I don’t want to have an art exhibit without you present. You’re my number one supporter and my bodyguard! I can’t go anywhere without you by my side!” 

“Thomas is talking my ears off about it, and I’m trying everything I can to ignore him, but he’s  giving me this look.”

“Miss Bodyguardddddddd. When are you coming home? :(” 

“Are you back yet?”

SYULS:

“Kitten, I will be expecting you to return to Linkon City unscathed. Do not do anything reckless, alright? Always be two steps ahead of your enemies and know their weaknesses.” 

“Kick their asses, and don’t let them kick yours. Show them what I have taught you in the boxing ring.”

“I will see you soon, alright? I want you to return to me safe and sound. If anyone lays their hands on you, tell me who they are, and I’ll take care of everything.”

“Luke and Kieran keep pestering me about your return to the N109 Zone.”

“I found something interesting in Mephisto’s nest today. I believe these are your earrings and bracelets. [PHOTO ATTACHMENT] Mephisto loves shiny things, and he so happens to take a liking to your jewelry.”

ZAYNE:

“How is your mission coming along?”

“Are you resting? Make sure not to overexert yourself, and make sure to eat plenty of food.”

“It’s been a few days since I’ve heard from you. You are safe, right?”

“If you need any assistance, I am one phone call away.”

“Text me back when you get this message.”

XAVIER:

“Make sure not to storm into the protofield recklessly.”

“Let me know when your mission is completed. I want to be the first person you see when you return from your mission.”

“I made sure to water the plants on your balcony and organize the plushies in your room. They are waiting for your return, and I am waiting for your reply.”

“I hope you do not have to resort to this, but if you are in any danger and cannot complete your solo mission, don’t hesitate to call me for help. I will be there in a heartbeat.”

“It’s been a while since I sent my previous message, and I still haven’t heard back from you. Are you alright? Do you need me to step in to help you?”

Before you can unlock your phone to answer any of the text messages you have received, the screen suddenly goes black. You close your eyes and slump in your seat at the bus stop, realizing that you did not charge your phone at all before boarding the plane. Now that your phone is dead, you have no way to contact any of the four men to inform them of your return to Linkon City.

“This is fine,” You mutter, too exhausted to do anything. “I’ll message them once I charge my phone.”

When the bus finally arrives, you sit close to the back of the bus with your belongings and close your eyes. It’ll be a fifteen-minute drive to the nearest bus stop near your apartment, so you might as well sit back and get some shut-eye before arriving home. When the bus arrives at the bus stop a block from your apartment, you nearly miss your stop due to your nap. You stumble off the bus and trudge toward the direction of your apartment, still groggy from your nap on the bus. 

A small gust of air causes you to tense up and shiver. You hug yourself with one arm while dragging your luggage with the other, now realizing how cold you are. Despite feeling like a walking popsicle, your body is also covered in a thin layer of sweat. Dear goodness, you must look like a mess to whoever lays their eyes on you.

Everything is a blur after, and you find yourself collapsing on your couch after closing and locking your apartment door. Your luggage is abandoned next to the shoe rack, while one boot is beside the luggage, and the other lies beside your couch. You’re too tired to change out of your clothes and go to your bedroom. Your entire body is aching, and every limb feels like lead. You shift on the couch, digging your hands into your pockets to take your dead phone out of your pockets before tossing it onto the coffee table.

Once you get that out of the way, you curl up into a fetal position and hug your knees to your chest. Your body wracks with shivers when a wave of chills washes over your body as you slowly drift off to a dreamless sleep.

- Two Days Later -

Rafayel steps out of the elevator and turns to the right, walking towards a specific apartment. Before choosing to stop by his precious bodyguard’s apartment, Rafayel realizes that all of his messages are left on read. Now, Rafayel may not be much of a texter (only when it comes to other people who aren’t you), but seeing his messages being left on read with little to no response drives him up the wall. However, since you’re the cutest and most precious person in the world, Rafayel lets you off the hook. 

“She’s probably busy with the Hunters Association debriefing.” Is what Rafayel would say to himself, trying to bury the clenching feeling in his chest. But as time goes by, Rafayel will find himself opening the message between you and him, staring at the “READ” receipt at the bottom of his message— still no response from you, not even a phone call, voice message, video call, nothing. 

Rafayel doesn’t want to be seen as clingy, but he can’t help but crave for your attention, your voice, your laughter, your touch, you, you, you. Rafayel checks the tracking device he left on you (he did it for your safety) and sees that you’re at your apartment and not in some foreign country the last time he checked! Rafayel pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, letting out a long exhale through his nose.

“I guess she wants me to be the one to stop by this time,” Rafayel mutters before standing up. “Thomas, I’m heading out. It seems like Miss Bodyguard wants me to stop by her place.”

Thomas looks up from his phone, watching the Lemurian man grab his coat and car keys. Before Thomas can say anything, Rafayel is already out the front door, closing the door behind him. Thomas sighs, shaking his head.

As Rafayel approaches closer to your apartment, Rafayel slowly stops in his tracks. Rafayel’s mood worsens after seeing familiar faces in front of your apartment door. Just when Rafayel thinks he’s going to be your first and only visitor after you return from your mission, three other men have the same plan in mind. Rafayel stops before the three men, sensing tension among the trio. 

Zayne chuckles dryly. “I see we all have the same intention,” Zayne mutters, his gaze flickering from Xavier and Sylus to Rafayel. “You three don’t need to be here. As her primary care physician, it is my duty to check up on her to make sure she’s okay.”

Xavier smiles at Zayne and crosses his arms over his chest. “Dr. Zayne, while I understand that you’re [Y/N]’s primary care physician, I’m her coworker and neighbor. I believe that I have every right to check up on her after not hearing back from her in a while.”

Zayne and Xavier continue to stare at each other; both men have fake smiles on their faces. Sylus chuckles, shaking his head while tapping on his temples as he watches the tension rise between your so-called coworker and primary care physician. 

Rafayel narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, puffing his chest out as he nods in Sylus’s direction. “And what about you?”

Sylus looks at Rafayel with amusement, pointing at himself. Rafayel nods, pressing his lips into a thin line as he waits for Sylus to respond. “Oh, [Y/N] and I are—” Sylus is cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. The three men (Sylus, Xavier, and Zayne) take a step back, going silent as they try to hear other things coming from behind the door. Finally! Finally, you’re going to show your cute face to them all, reassuring them you’re okay and that you’re trying to recharge after a draining mission.

In a perfect world, that’s how everything will go down. In each man’s fantasy, they imagine you telling the other men to go home so you and he can spend time together after not seeing each other for a while. However, no one lives in a perfect world, no matter how much they hope. The doorknob wiggles, and a faint click and beep comes from the door. What everyone expects to see is you in a sleepy haze, answering the door in your cozy pajamas with an extreme bedhead, rubbing your eyes, and yawning. What they all did not expect to see is—

“Hello there! Is there anything I can help you all with?” A boy-next-door voice asks.

— A man in his mid-twenties answering your door… the very same door that belongs to your apartment. The man has black hair and French lilac with a hint of rose gold accents in his eyes, and he’s tall, perhaps the same height as Sylus. Maybe a little shorter than the Onychinus leader. Zayne tenses up the minute he and the mysterious black-haired man lock eyes. 

Shit. They didn’t get the wrong apartment, did they? Rafayel quickly glances at the apartment number above the door to make sure he (and the others) didn’t get the wrong apartment, but it’s the correct apartment, and Rafayel can see your signature furniture behind the man’s shoulders.

A look of surprise flashes over the man’s face before being replaced by a wide smile, and he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe of your apartment. “Zayne! It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other!” The man says.

Rafayel’s eyes dart between the two black-haired men, looking at them incredulously. “You two know each other!?” Rafayel blurts, grabbing Zayne and the mysterious black-haired man’s attention.

“Of course! We've known each other since we were children,” the black-haired man replies. “Isn’t that right, Zayne?” He smiles, tilting his head to the side as he waits for Zayne’s response.

Zayne nods. “That is correct. Caleb and I have known each other since we were children.”

Silence falls over the five men, no one saying a single thing. Rafayel puffs his cheeks out and sighs, crossing his arms over his chest while leaning on one leg before switching to the other. This Caleb guy is close friends with your primary care physician, but what is Caleb’s relationship with you? Surely you’re not dating this man, are you? Could he be your brother, by chance?

Xavier is the first person to break the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you in [Y/N]’s apartment?”

A look of surprise flashes over Caleb’s face. Caleb smiles and stands straight, propping both hands on his hips. “I’m here to take care of [Y/N]. I messaged her not long ago to let her know that I’m in Linkon, but she never replied. So, I took that as an opportunity to stop by her apartment to check up on her,” Caleb replies.

Sylus raises his eyebrows at Caleb’s reply, eyeing the man from head to toe— almost as if he’s sizing Caleb up. “How did you enter [Y/N]’s apartment? You didn’t happen to, oh, I don’t know, break into her apartment while she’s asleep, did you?” Sylus asks, narrowing his eyes at the black-haired man.

Caleb raises his hand before digging one hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a key. “Me? Breaking into [Y/N]’s apartment? I would never,” Caleb rolls his eyes. “And for your information, she gave me a spare key a while back.”

Sylus briefly glances at the key in Caleb’s hand before continuing what he’s doing prior: sizing Caleb up (or at least that’s what it looks like to others around Sylus). The more Caleb stares at Sylus, the more he notices that Sylus’s eyes have a faint glow. Caleb breaks eye contact with the white-haired man before laughing bitterly.

“I assume you all want to check up on [Y/N]. I’m afraid I cannot let you all into her apartment as of now due to her current condition,” Caleb states, now crossing his arms over his chest.

That catches the four men’s attention immediately. Not only does it bother them that they’re not allowed to see you after not seeing you in a while, but the vagueness of Caleb’s response irks them to no end. 

Xavier takes a step forward, his eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by her current condition? She’s not hurt, is she?” Xavier frowns, his heart pounding in his chest.

Caleb sighs, unsure of whether he should explain the situation to the three unfamiliar men and Zayne. Residents of the apartment weave through the four men in the hallway to get to their apartment and the elevator, grumbling about people taking up space and being inconsiderate. Caleb presses his lips into a thin line before gesturing for the four men to enter the apartment so they wouldn’t block the hallway for the residents. 

After everyone is in the apartment, Caleb closes and locks the apartment door. Zayne, Sylus, Xavier, and Rafayel each take their shoes off and put on the spare slippers on the shoe rack. Caleb observes each man closely, mildly miffed over the fact that they know about the (now) unspoken rule when entering your apartment: shoes are to be taken off and put on house slippers. Everyone slowly migrates to the living room, some sitting on your couch while others refuse to sit. 

Caleb takes a deep breath. “[Y/N]’s sick,” Caleb says. Caleb looks at each person’s face to see their reaction.

The frown on Zayne’s face deepens as he crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows furrowing with worry. “How long has she been sick?” Zayne demands, his eyes occasionally lingering in the direction of your bedroom. 

“I don’t know how long she’s been like this, but whenever I stopped by not long ago, she was unconscious on the couch. I carried her to her room and made sure she changed into loose and comfortable clothes. Thankfully, she took her medication when I handed her cold medicine. However, it seems her sickness has gotten worse overnight.”

Rafayel’s eyes widen with disbelief and horror. “Worse?! What do you mean by worse? Miss Bodyguar— [Y/N]’s not going to die, is she!?”

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head after hearing Rafayel’s ridiculous question. Xavier and Sylus look at Rafayel with a questioning gaze while Caleb chuckles with amusement, shaking his head. 

Xavier crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the couch. “If she’s sick, then why didn’t she let any of us know about her condition?”

Sylus looks at the coffee table and sees your phone lying face down. “She’s either too drained to reply to our messages to inform us of her whereabouts or…” Sylus trails off, reaching for your phone. Sylus presses the button on the side of your phone, expecting your phone to light up. But alas, your phone doesn’t turn on, even if he presses down the button for ten seconds. “She forgot to charge her phone, and her phone is dead.”

Zayne turns toward Caleb and says, “As her primary care physician, it’s my job to check up on her.”

Caleb holds his hands up in a surrender gesture. “I know that, Zayne. I’m not stopping you from checking up on [Y/N]. She’s still sleeping in her room. I tried getting her to eat something, but she refused. She only took cold medicine before going back to sleep,” Caleb says, frowning.

Caleb gestures for Zayne to follow him before turning around and walking towards your closed bedroom door. Caleb grabs the door handle and quietly opens the door. Zayne and Caleb peek their heads into your bedroom to see you out cold on your bed, buried under mountains of blankets. Caleb opens the door wider before entering your room, with Zayne following close behind. The other three men stand by the doorway, eyes glued on your unconscious body.

“If [Y/N] wanted something to warm her up as she sleeps, she could’ve just asked me,” Rafayel mutters, leaning against the doorframe. 

Zayne kneels at the edge of your bed, eyes scanning your face. He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. You sigh with relief when you feel something cool press up against your hot forehead. You subconsciously lean into Zayne’s cool touch, wanting more of his touch to cool you down.

“You said she hasn’t eaten anything, correct?” Zayne mutters, looking at Caleb.

Caleb nods wordlessly, his eyes never leaving your face. “She has not, unfortunately. Again, I tried to convince her to eat the congee I’ve cooked, but she just wanted to sleep,” Caleb replies, now standing beside Zayne. 

The chatter around you slowly brings you back to consciousness. You crack your eyes open and look around your bedroom with bleary eyes. You mumble incoherent words, grabbing the attention of the five men around you. Upon seeing you awake, the men remaining at the doorway of your bedroom rush over to where you lie. Your body heat and the mountains of blankets over your body cause you to squirm as you struggle to sit up and push the blankets off your body. 

Xavier and Zayne help you sit on your bed while Rafayel fluffs the pillow behind you, cushioning your back against the bed frame. Sylus hands you a cup of water to drink after seeing you rub your throat while wincing. You weakly smile at Sylus before taking huge gulps of water. 

Xavier chuckles, sitting beside you, and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Careful, now. You wouldn’t want to choke, now, would you?” Xavier murmurs, wiping the droplet of water from the corner of your lips after you downed the cup of water. 

You shakily place the cup on your nightstand, leaning your head against the wall, and stare at your lap. No one says anything as they stare at you, waiting for you to say or do something. You rub your eyes with your knuckles, still groggy from your sleep. It feels nice to finally be home after a long mission, but you’re sick, and you feel like you got hit by a bullet train.

“Are you hungry, pipsqueak?” Caleb asks, rubbing your head affectionately before fixing your bedhead. 

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay.” You lie.

Before anyone can say anything, the silence is broken by a loud rumbling in your stomach. You clear your throat and hug your pillow to your chest, ignoring the gnawing feeling in your gut. You’re starving, but you don’t want to eat. 

Sylus frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he scrutinizes you. “Sweetie, just because you’re sick and tired doesn’t mean you should starve yourself,” Sylus lectures you, shaking his head with disapproval. “If you don’t eat anything, how else will you recover from your illness, hm?”

You stare at the Onychinus leader with a visible pout on your face. The way you stare at Sylus makes him feel weak at the knees. You resemble a stray kitten found in a downpour— pathetic but cute. 

“Maybe she doesn’t want to eat congee. Is it possible she wants to eat something else?” Rafayel mutters, stroking his chin. “Hey, cutie. What do you want to eat? Definitely not boring old congee, right?” Rafayel jokes.

Caleb raises an eyebrow at Rafayel’s comment, turning to you. You press your lips into a thin line and think for a minute. You don’t mind eating congee since it's easy to stomach, but you’re not entirely sure if you want to eat the same thing over and over until you’re no longer sick. The congee Caleb makes is delicious, but you want something new and easy to eat, similar to congee, but without eating congee itself. 

“How about I make you some chicken soup? It has plenty of nutrients your body needs in order to recover from an illness.” Xavier says, grabbing hold of your hand and gently squeezing them.

Hearing Xavier offer to cook you something to eat nearly has you in tears. It’s not like you don’t want Xavier to cook you food—actually, it is that. You love Xavier and his willingness to cook something for you to eat, but cooking isn’t his best suit. Xavier looks at you worriedly after not hearing a response from you. The puppy dog eyes Xavier has on his face is killing you.

Zayne clears his throat, sighing to himself. “Chicken soup is a good option if you don’t want to eat congee. Caleb can cook the chicken soup while I get your medication. Xavier, Rafayel, and Sylus can keep you entertained.”

You nearly cry in relief when Zayne says it’s going to be Caleb who’s going to cook the chicken soup for you to eat (sorry, Xavier). You nod, immediately agreeing to Zayne’s suggestion. After Zayne and Caleb leave your room, you lie back down and hug your pillow. You notice Sylus slip out of your bedroom for a moment, but instead of heading to your living room, he goes straight to your bathroom.

Rafayel pouts, staring at you like an angry toddler. “You don’t want to cuddle me, cutie? After not seeing each other for such a long time, you don’t want to cuddle to make up for the lost time?” Rafayel grumbles, his bottom lip jutting out as he plops down at the edge of your bed.

Xavier glares at Rafayel before looking elsewhere. “It’s not a good idea to cuddle with someone while they’re sick. [Y/N] still has a fever, and cuddling her will only add to the discomfort,” Xavier lectures Rafayel.

Rafayel rolls his eyes before lying down on you, his head resting on your lap as he grabs your hand, completely disregarding Xavier’s lecture and glare. Rafayel laces his fingers with yours and presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Nothing is going to stop me from cuddling with you, cutie. Unless you demand personal space, then it’s too bad because I’m here to stay,” Rafayel states, smirking over in Xavier’s direction.

Xavier’s nostrils flare, and his hands clenched into tight fists. “You—”

“Now, now, gentlemen. I believe now is not the right time to be bickering with one another. You two will only make [Y/N]’s headache worse the more you argue with one another. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Sylus clicks his tongue with disapproval as he exits your bathroom with a wet cloth in his hand. 

Sylus sits at the edge of your bed near your head, brushing your damp hair away from your face and forehead. You stare at Sylus, watching him fold the small hand towel in half before placing the cool, wet towel over your forehead. 

You sigh with contentment. “That feels really nice,” you murmur, closing your eyes. “Thank you, Sylus.”

“Anything for you, kitten. Now, get some rest. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for you to eat,” Sylus murmurs, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

Rafayel and Xavier stare at Sylus with their mouths agape and eyebrows furrowing. Sylus chuckles and shakes his head at their reactions before getting up from your bed. “Make sure to behave, you two. You wouldn’t want another lecture from Dr. Zayne and Caleb, now, would you?”

Rafayel and Xavier glance at each other from the corner of their eyes before watching the leader of Onychinus peer from your bedroom door to see what Zayne and Caleb are doing. You pull the blanket up to your chin and slowly fall into a dreamless sleep.

- 40 Minutes Later -

“How in the world did she fall asleep already?”

“Yeah, she can be a pretty heavy sleeper when she’s sick.” You hear Caleb laugh.

Sylus sighs. “Sweetie, you need to wake up and eat. You can’t skip your meals while you’re sick.”

The voices around you continue to chatter, making it nearly impossible to fall asleep, but not impossible enough to stop you from doing so. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep, but when you open your eyes, you find yourself sitting on the couch with the blanket draped over your thighs. 

You smack your lips together, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles, almost struggling to lift your arms. You furrow your eyebrows, annoyed you can’t get your limbs to function. Your head is resting on the couch cushion, nearly lulling you to sleep again. 

“Oh, no, you don’t! Don’t fall asleep on us now, cutie.” Rafayel protests, rushing over to your side and gently patting and poking your cheeks to keep you conscious.

You softly whine, struggling to grab hold of Rafayel’s hand. You open your eyes, only to see how close Rafayel’s face is to yours. You stare at him, confused. Rafayel sighs in relief and slowly backs away, now sitting beside you. Your head droops forward as you try to fight off the need to sleep. How in the world did you get on this couch?

Xavier kneels beside you, grabbing your hand. “You don’t remember what happened before you were carried to the living room?” Xavier asks, staring into your bleary eyes.

You shake your head. “Not really.”

Caleb places a food tray on your lap and then sets down a bowl of chicken soup and cutlery in front of you. The bowl has shredded chicken with chicken broth, chopped carrots, and celery. The aroma of the soup is so delicious that it causes your stomach to let out a growl that’s loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Zayne sits to the right of you. “Do you want to take your medication now, or do you want to take it after you finish your lunch?” Zayne asks, holding up the bottle of cold medicine.

You stare at the bottle, hesitant about taking the medication again. You should really get new cold medicine because the one Zayne is holding makes you feel nauseous every time you take it. Could it be because you took the medication on an empty stomach? You point at the chicken soup before scooping the broth and shredded chicken with the spoon, and begin eating the soup that Caleb cooked for you to eat.

When you pick up a piece of carrot with your chopsticks, Zayne visibly narrows his eyes at the orange vegetable and watches you bite the soft vegetable. Caleb chuckles, shaking his head at Zayne’s reaction to seeing a carrot.

“You still don’t like carrots, Zayne?” Caleb teases, crossing his arms over his chest.

Zayne clears his throat, almost rolling his eyes. “What about you? Do you still hate cilantro?” Zayne mutters, looking at Caleb from the corner of his eye.

Rafayel, Xavier, and Sylus glance at each other while internally questioning the strange interaction between Zayne and Caleb. Caleb and Zayne said they were “childhood friends,” but the way they’re acting with each other says the complete opposite. The others around Caleb and Zayne can almost visibly see electricity spark between the two men, the more they shoot not-so-subtle glares at each other. If this continues, the two could burn down your (and Xavier’s) apartment building.

You set your chopsticks down on the bowl when you feel a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. You try to ignore the pain and grab the spoon, taking small sips of the chicken broth, hoping the warm soup will ease the pain in your abdomen. Your stomach isn’t hurting; in fact, it hasn’t been hurting since you returned to Linkon City. You start listing the possibilities of what can make your abdomen hurt while sipping your soup.

You haven’t eaten much since your return to Linkon City, so the possibility of eating something “bad” is out of the question. But that’s stomach pain, not lower abdominal pain. Wait— When was the last time you had your period? 

Xavier squeezes your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What’s wrong?” He whispers, leaning over and staring at you intently. “Do you not like the soup? Would you prefer for me to cook you something instead?”

You blink at Xavier, slowly shaking your head. “The soup is fine, but…” You trail off, feeling the familiar pain return. “I don’t think I’ll be able to finish this soup.” 

The men around you peek into the bowl to see how much soup you have left, and you barely make a dent in the soup. You’ve probably eaten three slices of carrots and four shredded chicken and sipped the broth around two or three times, but either way, you’re not even close to finishing the chicken soup that Caleb made for you.

“Can you try to finish at least half of the soup? You don’t have to finish the entire thing, but half would suffice,” Sylus suggests, gazing at you worriedly. 

You stare at the soup, sighing. It’s not like you’re full, it’s just that the cramps you’re suddenly feeling are making it hard for you to want to finish your food. The longer you stare at your food, the more you can feel holes being burned into the back of your head from how hard the five men around you are staring at you.

You grab the food tray and place it on the ground before getting up from the couch. Just when you thought the cramps you were feeling a moment ago were bad, they just got worse the minute you stood up. You clear your throat, acting like you’re not being stabbed in the abdomen over and over by a box cutter. You point to the bathroom, letting them know you’ll be right back before sprinting away. During your journey to the bathroom, you feel the familiar sense of dread fall over you when, you’re assuming, blood starts gushing out of your lady bits. 

You accidentally slam the bathroom door shut behind you as you rush to the toilet, pull your pajama pants and underwear down. You grit your teeth and silently groan at the sight. That’s going to leave an ugly stain. 

“Maybe you’re the reason why I’m sick,” you grumble, poking at where your uterus is located. “Dropping by for a week-long visit with no notice ahead of time is absolutely foul.”

You remain on the toilet, letting the blood drip out of you as you wipe the blood from your panties. Well, at least you didn’t bleed through and stain your pajama pants. You reach into the sink cabinet, searching for your pads and tampons, only to find nothing. Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach, causing you to lurch forward on the toilet, peeking your head into the cabinet to double-check if you may have misplaced it somewhere.

You shake your head, in denial. “Fuck. Please tell me I didn’t forget to restock my pads and tampons,” you whisper.

“Everything alright in there, pipsqueak?” Caleb knocks on the door.

You close the sink cabinet with silent defeat, flush the toilet after wiping (a lot of wiping), fold toilet paper, and place it in your underwear as a temporary pad. You pull up your pants and underwear, waddling to the door. You crack the door open, peeking out to see Caleb and the others standing outside the bathroom door. 

You press your lips into a thin line and proceed to push past them, walking straight to your closet to pull out clean clothes to change into after your shower. It’s probably not the best idea to shower while you’re sick, but right now, it’s very much needed. You stop in your tracks, sighing. You still need to restock pads and tampons.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? You look distraught,” Sylus says, approaching you.

God, he’s so tall.

“Huh?” You blink at the Onychinus leader owlishly.

Sylus smirks, letting out an amused laugh, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You really are out of it, aren’t you?” He teases, now standing in front of you, and presses his hands against your forehead. “You shouldn’t be showering when you have a fever, kitten.”

You frown at Sylus, feeling all sorts of emotions hitting you like a brick wall. You’re angry that your period started, you’re also sad because you completely forgot to restock your tampons and pads, you’re humiliated that you stained your panties with your blood and now have to use toilet paper as a temporary pad, but you’re so tired and in so much pain.

You want to cry, but you also want to scream and obliterate the entire planet. Of all people, why you and why now? Sylus tilts his head to get a better look at your face; his gaze softens when he sees the look on your face. Before Sylus can say anything, you drop your clothes and bury your face into his chest, sighing. 

Rafayel takes a cautious step forward. “What’s wrong, cutie? It’s okay if you’re too tired to finish your soup. We won’t force you to eat,” Rafayel says softly.

You press your cheek against Sylus’s chest, peeking at Rafayel and the others with a pout. God, this is making you feel even worse. You shake your head, closing your eyes. You shudder, feeling like a stepped ketchup packet.

Xavier rubs your back, eyebrows knitted together with worry. “Please tell us what’s wrong. You seem to be doing far worse before you went to the bathroom,” Xavier pleads, pulling you away from Sylus.

“You guys know that I’m sick, right?” You mutter, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

The men around you nod, slowly migrating over to your bed.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes with your knuckle. “Well, turns out, I’m also menstruating! Yippee! Hooray! Someone please kill me and end my suffering.” You plop over on your bed and rub your temples. “Oh, and to top it all off, I completely forgot to restock my tampons and pads! Things just keep getting better and better!”

You grab your pillow, tempted to take yourself out of your misery. Instead, you hold yourself back and hug it against your chest, zoning out. Caleb makes a noise, grabbing your attention. You look over at Caleb to see him staring at his phone, stroking his chin.

“That makes sense on why I’ve been getting notifications about your menstruation cycle nearing,” Caleb says nonchalantly. 

You stare at Caleb owlishly. “You keep track of my period?” You ask with millions of questions running through your mind rapidly.

“I do too,” Rafayel says, waving his phone. “In fact, I just got notified that your period should be starting sometime this week, but it looks like it starts today! I should mark it.”

You sit up, ignoring the feeling of your blood staining your temporary “pad.” Wait, since when did they keep track of your period? 

Noticing the clueless look on your face, Zayne pats your head with a small smile. “In case you forgot, which, judging by the look on your face, you did, you wanted me to keep track of your cycle. By the looks of it, it seems like I’m not the only one who’s tracking your cycle,” Zayne says, looking over at the others.

You stare at the five men blankly, with your mouth agape, when the others show you their phone screens. You look at the ceiling, trying to recall the time when you asked them to keep track of your period. Well, at least you won’t have to worry about forgetting your impending cycle when you have five people who will notify you about it before it happens. Today, however, is different. No warning signs at all— well, maybe you getting sick is the warning of your impending menstrual cycle, and having no pads and tampons stocked in your bathroom is the worst situation to be in. 

Xavier strokes your hair. “If you want, you can go take a shower while we go to the store to buy you some pads and tampons,” Xavier murmurs, gazing at you with those adorable puppy dog eyes of his.

“If we do that, someone’s going to need to stay back and keep watch of [Y/N],” Caleb interjects, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know [Y/N] long enough to know what products she uses.”

You groan and flop over on your stomach. You can’t believe Caleb wants someone to babysit you while they go out to buy you menstrual products. You’re an adult, you can be left alone in your apartment while they’re out shopping at the nearest store. It’s not like you will bleed out and die if they leave you all by yourself. Plus, this isn’t your first rodeo as a menstruating woman, a hunter to be exact. 

After convincing all five of your lovely guests to let you be alone in your apartment while they go out to restock your menstrual products, you find yourself sitting in the shower, staring at the tiles. You watch the blood and shampoo trickle into the drain, wincing when another wave of cramps hits you. You lean against the shower wall, questioning everything. You have no idea how long you’ve been in the shower, but you truly hope that Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, and Sylus return before you’re done taking a shower.

Meanwhile…

Zayne walks to the cash register with three boxes of pads in one hand and a box of dessert from the store’s bakery in the other. Zayne stops in his tracks when he sees the other four, raising an eyebrow at them as they approach the cardiac surgeon. 

“Five boxes of tampons! [Y/N] won’t have to worry about running out of menstrual products for the next few months!” Rafayel says, looking smug.

Xavier scratches his head, holding up four boxes of both pads and tampons, each one different from the other. “I bought one of each for [Y/N]. If I remember correctly, she said her period flows tend to be different and unpredictable each month and day.”

The others nod and murmur with approval, earning a shy yet satisfied smile from Xavier. Everyone turns to look at Caleb, your childhood friend and Zayne’s childhood and maybe current love rival. 

Caleb laughs, shaking his head. “Wow, all of you went all out. I, on the other hand, got her the period essentials,” he says, holding up a shopping basket that contains pads, tampons, a couple of your favorite snacks, a heatable teddy bear, and a soft throw blanket. 

Zayne hums, mentally critiquing Caleb’s cart. Despite there being differences between Zayne and Caleb, Zayne approves of Caleb’s cart. Everyone turns to look at Sylus, who came empty-handed. Everyone’s silently judging the leader of Onychinus. Sylus chuckles, tapping on his temples before crossing his arms over his chest.

“While you all were shopping around, I put in a bulk order of pads, tampons, and wipes that will be delivered to [Y/N]’s apartment. It should be there by the time we return to her apartment,” Sylus says, glancing at the watch around his wrist.

Rafayel looks at Sylus with wide eyes, a mix of horror and awe. “Bulk order?! Are you implying [Y/N] is going to get warehouse-level type of shipments to her apartment?” Rafayel asks.

“Yes, because I don’t want her to worry about having to run back to the store to restock her menstrual products,” Sylus says nonchalantly, propping his hands on his hips. 

Caleb scrutinizes Sylus, propping one hand on his hip. “Where did you get the money to do all of this, Sylus?”

Sylus smiles, waving off the skeptical looks thrown his way. “I’m just a fruit vendor with a very successful business, that is all.”

- 15 Minutes Later -

You shut off the water and grab your towel, wrapping it around your body. You stand in the shower, debating whether you should step out and get dressed or wait for the others to return with pads and tampons. A knock on the bathroom door interrupts your thoughts, making you nearly cry out in relief. Oh, thank goodness you won’t have to make a temporary pad out of toilet paper!

You leave the shower and walk to the door, unlocking it. You crack the door open and take a peek. Zayne, Caleb, Rafayel, and Xavier are holding bags of pads and tampons. No Sylus in sight. 

Noticing your questioning gaze, Zayne gestures to the door leading to the living room. “Sylus is stocking your storage room. You’ll understand when you’re done with your shower,” Zayne says. 

You sigh in relief. You thanked the four men before grabbing a random bag from one of their hands, closing the door, and getting dressed. After changing and securing your underwear, you unlock and open the bathroom door. Caleb helps you with restocking the pads and tampons in your bathroom while Xavier and Rafayel help Zayne with throwing the boxes away.

“Where is Sylus?” You mutter, closing the sink cabinet door.

Caleb shrugs. “Probably still stocking up the storage room,” Caleb replies. 

Caleb wraps his arm around your shoulders before leaving the bathroom with you. When you and Caleb step into the living room, you stop in your tracks when you see Xavier, Zayne, and Rafayel helping Sylus stock your apartment storage room. You look at Caleb, who shrugs in response to your questioning gaze. 

You leave Caleb’s side, approaching the four men while trying to peek from their shoulders to see what they’re doing. Xavier and Rafayel move out of the way for you to look; your eyes nearly pop out of your skull after seeing your storage room, once empty, now completely full of boxes of pads, tampons, and wet wipes.

You look at Sylus, who reminds you of a smug cat showing his owner his successful hunt. “This was your doing, wasn’t it?” You ask.

“Well, of course it is, sweetie. I don’t want you to worry about restocking your menstrual products for the next few months. If you happen to use up the entire stock, then you can always let me know, and I will have them restocked in no time,” Sylus says.

Next few months?! You look back at the storage room, filled to the brim with boxes of pads, tampons, and wipes. Maybe it’s your period that’s making you emotional, or the fact that these men care about you so much that they would go out of their way to buy as many boxes of pads and tampons for you, you find it very touching. You can’t help but tear up at the sweet gesture, causing mass panic among the five men.

“Cutie, why are you crying?! You’re not in pain, are you!?” Rafayel asks, grabbing you by the shoulders and staring at you with pure panic.

You laugh and cover your face, bending over to avoid their worried stares. Rafayel looks at the others, unsure of what to do aside from pulling you into his arms and cradling you, patting your back. You wipe the tears running down your cheeks and let yourself loosen up in Rafayel’s arms, sighing.

“What do you want to do now, pipsqueak? Do you want to finish your food now or later?” Caleb trails off, stroking your hair.

You continue clinging to Rafayel, peeking over at the untouched (and most likely cold) soup. “Can we watch a movie first? I’m not really in the mood to eat right now. Maybe I’ll be hungry after we finish a movie,” you mutter, peeking at Caleb and the others.

Each man agreed to your proposal and began setting the living room up for the impromptu movie night. When everyone starts to settle down for the movie, they all leave space for you to sit next to them—lots of space. You prop your hands on your hips, unsure of where to sit, while these men subtly glare at each other. 

“Can you guys scoot a little closer?” You ask, gesturing for everyone to move in.

Caleb, Sylus, Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel reluctantly scoot closer to each other. When they stop to look at you, you shake your head with disapproval and continue to gesture for them to move closer. Once they’re finally sitting side by side, thighs touching, you nod with approval. You grab the throw blanket that Caleb bought for you and drape the blanket over their laps, ignoring the confused stares thrown your way. You grab a plushie that works as a pillow and place it on Sylus’s lap. You walk to the light switch, turn the living room lights off before returning to where the others are waiting for you, still confused about what you’re plotting. On your way back, you grab the spare plush blanket that hangs from the armrest of the sofa. This is probably the most you’ve moved around since returning from your solo mission. 

You briefly sit on Zayne’s lap before lying down on everyone’s lap. If these men want to fight over who gets to sit beside you while watching the movie, you might as well make them your bed. You lay your head on the plushie pillow on Sylus’s lap, draping your blanket over your body.

Rafayel frowns. “Hey, how come I’m the only one with the short end of the stick?” Rafayel mutters, lightly tickling your feet, making you jolt.

You peek at Rafayel with a playful glare. “Don’t worry, Rafayel. I’ll be switching positions when we start watching another movie after this one,” you reply, getting comfortable. 

About twenty minutes into the movie, you slowly start to doze off. There are many times when you try to force yourself to stay awake during the first few minutes of the movie. But the more the movie drags on, you can’t help but slowly fall asleep. You’re so comfortable: fresh out of the shower, wearing cozy pajamas, lying on top of Sylus, Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel’s lap with a blanket over you. 

You don’t mind spending your vacation and sick days like this as long as you’re surrounded by the people who cherish you and care about you. Right when you succumb to your slumber, you feel someone press a kiss on your head, and more kisses soon follow after the first.

Note: I can't believe that this is my second fanfic for Love&Deepspace and the next fic is going to be smut 😭 One of my ideas for the smut was going to be based on the Tomorrow Catch-22 memories, but then that (the fic) ended up being the complete opposite of the event and the memories. So, I'm probably going to scrap that idea and come up with a new one for the upcoming smut-fic for my LADS series. If you're interested in joining my Discord server, the invite to my Discord server can be found [HERE]! The Discord server invite links will be different every time I post a new fanfic, and these links have expiration dates. It's a relatively chill server, which I like because the server nearly crashed when it was first created. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[dazedantics]

Meeting the Graysons

(Ha I don't remember where I was going with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for a while)

There isn't much to see working behind the register at your local grocery store. Mostly you just sit there picking at your nails till a customer comes up and you have to print that friendly smile on your face. But there are days where you get to see some interesting people.

Like the family of eight that comes in all rowdy and shrieking as their tired mother pushes the cart. Or the quiet old man with his pampered ol' bulldog who never says a word and has a look in his eye that you just know means he's committed something long ago and would hunt you down if you ever found out. Or the entitled old ladies who point their sharp maroon nails at you while they drone on about why they should be given some big discount that you don't particularly hear word for word. Or that clean cut older gentleman who smiles under his thick mustache and says something so out of date but his voice is just so deep and dreamy that can't even remember what your name even is anymore.

Your bubble pops abruptly as you notice his ocean blue eyes watching you for longer than necessary. I mean, really, what ever will you do if he's to keep his attention so dashingly on you like that? Oh, wait- he's handing you money.

Oops.

Let's just check what exactly it costs again on the screen. That shirt looks very tight around his chest. Did he buy a lot? Around his arms too. You didn't even notice you'd been scanning and bagging his items the whole time. He's very muscular isn't he? What did he buy? Not that you'd mind finding out just how strong he was. Was he the fresh only, organic, let's save the planet type of guy? That's a very nice ring on his left hand's finger. Or was he- wait. OH MY GOD HE'S MARRIED?!

Nooo! How are you supposed to get that fairy tale ending now? He's supposed to be that hot corporate type who'd fall in love with you and whisk you away from your job to live the posh life with him! Cause he'd say "you're much to gorgeous to be working in a place like this!" And honestly, who could argue with that logic? Then he'd- oh, wait he's leaving. Out the door annnnd ... gone.

Dang it.

Well, there go your chances of living your dreams. Back to the same old creepsters tweakin' out in the back of the store. You didn't even catch the guy's name.

Oh well.

At least you'd have some fantasy fuel to live on for a week.

And so, you sit there again. Sighing and dissociating as the days go on, customers coming and going, paying as much attention to you as you do to them. Counting the minutes till you can ditch this place once and for all. And ... oh look, some nerd is stammering trying to buy something.

He's ... actually kinda cute. In a "couldn't exactly sweep you off your feet but could still make you swoon" typa way.

You gave him the store's default greeting. Definitely nice to look at, boyish charm exuded from his button up/sweatshirt combo. You scanned his items steadily. Yeah ... you could see a sweet future with this guy. You smiled as he started going on about something you hoped you wouldn't need to give an answer to. A few small picnics in the park, bookstore and museum dates, listening to him rant about stuff you don't understand. You nodded politely as he kept going on, digging into his pockets. Ooh, or maybe you'd have to be the one whisking him away from from his mundane life, flustering him with those smooth lines you've heard and making him be the one to imagine all the scenarios that you'd do, staring into his chocolaty brown eyes all day. And also- wait. Oops ... there he goes too.

And without a name either.

Maybe you should start to introduce yourself first, so whatever dreamboat you meet next feels inclined to give theirs.

You end up doing that for a bit, but a few of the customers remind you why you're always hiding your name tag under your work vest. I mean, couldn't the weirdos who stalk you from beyond the sliding doors be good-looking? At least then it would be easier for you to develop stockholm syndrome if they decide to ever knock you out behind the dumpsters at night.

Oh, another customer.

You scan her items and ... dang it! Why have so many of your customers been much more charming than you lately? This woman was all sleek business on the outside but sweet and considerate as she speaks to you. She sifts through her purse, rambling on about her family. Figures. Of course she'd have a family. Oh, but that means she probably prides herself on being wise, so maybe she'd be willing to give you life advice? You smile and nod, not sure what exactly you could say to relate to her story. Yeah, cause then she'd invite you to her house so she could be thorough with her explanations. She laughs softly, coffee brown eyes accompanied by tired bags under them. Ooh, and then you could offer to help her out with her kids and stuff! Then she'd be all grateful for you and thennnn- there she goes too.

Aw man, you thought with all her chatting she'd be those types to stick around long after getting her things bagged.

And no name again too.

Are you always destined to drop the ball before you ever even picked it up?

Alas, till one of those three romancers of yours decided to visit this store again, you had to make due with the delicately memory of them, carefully preserved in your head.

And hey, maybe you'd go out one day and run into them again.

And you wouldn't be silenced by your corporate hospitality. No, this time, you'd get their names.

And then you'd be able further lay out the plot of your heavily detailed imagined future with them.

[woniedarlin]

Shared Custody

Pairing: Ex! Jungwon x reader

Synopsis: Breaking up with Jungwon was one thing. But agreeing to co-parent a dog afterward? That was how you ended up in the weirdest post-breakup situation ever. Because what kind of exes still see each other at precisely 10 a.m?

You broke up. You’re sure of it. So why does it feel like your relationship never ended? Just… got a schedule and a leash?

Author's note: Another fic has been sitting in the drafts for too long. I finally decided to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

Warnings: This story contains equal parts fluff and angst, with a dash of unresolved feelings, awkward ex moments, and a dog that might steal the spotlight. Reader discretion is advised! 🐾

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Here’s the thing no one tells you about breakups:

When you two bought a dog together while you were still dating, breaking up isn’t just about parting ways with a person. You get partial custody of an emotional support furball with no idea why mom and dad stopped living together. The breakup was mutual. There was no shouting, no ugly crying, no one storming out at 2 a.m. with a suitcase and a dramatic one-liner.

It was a quiet and tired conversation on the couch. Some nods. A few long silences. And Maeumi, curled up between you, unaware that his life was about to get complicated.

You probably should’ve fought over him. Or at least discussed like rational adults. Instead, you both just… didn’t let go. Now, you set schedules like divorced parents. Only with more awkward small talk and a lot of pretending it’s totally normal to see your ex every other day at exactly 10:00 a.m.

It started with meetups. Hand off the leash, say a polite hello, smile as if it doesn’t sting anymore. Then it became coffee afterwards. Then breakfast “because he looks hungry and I’m already here anyway.”

Then, last weekend, Maeumi ate an entire bag of chips and got sick all over Jungwon’s living room, which somehow led to you arguing about brand-name kibble.

“You were the one who said he needed variety!”

“Variety doesn’t mean junk food!”

“They were organic!”

“He threw up on my socks, (name).”

And you’re not proud of it, but you laughed. A little too hard. Then Jungwon laughed, and it felt like nothing had changed for a moment.

But everything had.

Now, you’re waiting for Jungwon in the usual meeting spot, Maeumi’s leash wrapped loosely around your wrist as he trots in excited little circles. Jungwon’s late. Not by much, just five minutes. Enough to make you wonder if he’s okay. Enough to make you check your phone. He shows up a minute later, hair a bit messy, holding two coffees. “Sorry,” he says. “I stopped by that place you like. The one with the stupid tiny straws.”

You take the cup without a word.

Maeumi barks, happy as ever, tail wagging because it was the best part of his week. Seeing his divorced parents together! ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა

“Did he eat?” Jungwon asks.

You replied. “Yeah. But he thinks spinning in a circle gets him more food now.”

Jungwon sighs. “You didn’t.”

You shrug. “It was funny. He almost knocked over my lamp trying it this morning.”

There was a slight pause before, “He seemed to miss you a lot when he was with me last week. A good thing he has spent with you these past few days.” Jungwon says, nudging Maeumi’s head.

You nod, eyes on your coffee cup. “I missed him too.”

You’re not sure which of them you’re talking about.

🍎

Maeumi planted his butt on the floor and refused to move. You tugged the leash gently. “Come on, it’s Dad’s turn.” Maeumi looked at you. Then looked at Jungwon. Then flopped onto his side. You sighed. “He’s being a brat again.”

Jungwon crouched beside you, holding out a treat from his pocket. “Maeumi, let’s not do this today.”

Maeumi sniffed the treat, stood up halfway, then turned around and pressed himself against your leg.

You and Jungwon exchanged a look.

“I think he’s made his choice,” you said.

“It’s not even a choice. It’s supposed to be my weekend.”

“You tell him that.”

Jungwon sighed and looked down at Maeumi, who was now rolling over, belly up, smug as ever. “You’re a traitor. You know that?”

Maeumi sneezed in response.

Eventually, after five minutes of bargaining and light bribery, Jungwon stepped inside your apartment to get him moving. One minute turned into five. Then ten. Now you were both sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of tea in his hands, Maeumi curled between you like a peace treaty in dog form. “You know,” you said, watching as Maeumi kicked his leg in his sleep, “he wasn’t like this when we first got him.”

“Nope,” Jungwon muttered. “He used to listen to me. Now he acts like he pays rent.”

“That’s your influence.”

He shot you a look. “My influence? You’re the one who started giving him tiny portions of your dinner because he’s a spoiled prince.”

You shrugged and grinned. “He deserves nice things.”

“He eats better than me.”

Jungwon glanced at you for too long, then looked away and sipped his tea.

You didn’t notice.

Well, yeah, you did, but you were pretending not to.

Jungwon leaned back a little. Then he looked toward the kitchen. And then he saw it. The mug. The one he bought for your birthday two years ago. You loved it to the point that you used it daily while you two were still dating. He nodded toward the cupboard. “Didn’t think you still had that.”

You glanced over. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes stayed on it. That dumb, ceramic memory sitting there as if it had every right to exist in a post-breakup world.

You added, “It’s a good mug.”

Jungwon barely smiled. “Yeah. Real high quality.”

You didn’t reply.

He looked back at Maeumi, who was still fast asleep between you, snoring lightly. “I keep one of your spoons in my drawer,” Jungwon said suddenly.

Your head turned. “What?”

“You left it after that one trip. The one where we bought those instant noodles that tasted like cardboard.”

“Oh. Right.” You stared ahead. “That was a good weekend.”

“It rained.”

“I like rain.”

You both nodded and pretended the conversation didn’t sting a little.

Maeumi snored louder as if he were trying to cover the silence.

🍎

Your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.

You were half-asleep. Maeumi had gone home with Jungwon hours ago, but the apartment still felt…full.

You grabbed your phone.

Jungwon [11:42 PM]

Thanks for taking care of him this week. He seemed extra happy. When he saw you, his tail wagged about ten times per second.

You smiled without meaning to, your thumb hovering over the keyboard to send a quick "anytime" or maybe a "he missed you too."

But another message came in before you could type.

Jungwon [11:43 PM]

You’re still the easiest person to talk to.

You stared at the screen.

You didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps you did, and that was the problem.

So you… didn’t reply.

🍎

Jungwon sat on the curb's edge, nursing a canned coffee. Sunghoon was sipping from his drink, watching him spiral in silence. “I’m losing it,” Jungwon finally said. “She still knows how I take my coffee. Didn’t even ask.”

Sunghoon glanced over. “She made it the same way she used to? Back when you two were together?”

Jungwon nodded slowly. “Exactly like that.”

“And you’re upset because…?”

“I don’t know,” Jungwon shaked his head. “She laughs at my jokes the same way. She still says ‘bless you’ when I fake sneeze for attention. And today, I saw the mug I got for her birthday two years ago, sitting in her cupboard like it never left.”

“Maybe it’s just a good mug?” Sunghoon offered.

Jungwon stared at him. “That mug has a whale on it saying ‘whale you be mine.’ It wasn’t just a mug.”

Sunghoon choked on his drink and wiped his mouth. “Okay, yeah, that’s tragic.”

“And she still wears my hoodie,” Jungwon added. “She likes that hoodie.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna ask for the hoodie back and confess your undying love in the same breath?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I was over her. I thought we were fine being exes who raise a dog together.” Jungwon let out a long sigh and tilted his head back. “I don’t know when it started feeling like this again.”

Sunghoon crumpled his empty drink can and tossed it into the bin beside them. “You mean the part where you show up with her favorite foods, sit on her couch like you never left, and keep pretending Maeumi’s the only reason you’re still hanging around?”

Jungwon looked at Sunghoon. “…Okay, rude. But not wrong.”

“Exactly. Look, man.” Sunghoon turned to face him fully now. “You two broke up. Sure. But you’re still texting her late at night, still wearing the cologne she once said smelled nice, and still looking at her like she’s the only person in the room.”

Jungwon groaned. “She’s just being nice. She always was.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “No one’s that nice, bro. She has your hoodie. She made you pancakes last week. You said she cut the strawberries the way you like them.”

“She always cuts the ends-”

“Exactly.” Sunghoon gave him a look. “At this point, you’re not just co-parenting a dog. You’re toeing the line of a romcom reboot.” He added, “Seriously, who even does this? Shared custody over a dog? With your ex? This is the weirdest post-breakup dynamic I’ve ever seen.”

Jungwon didn’t even deny it. He muttered, “…Yeah, but it’s kind of working.”

Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “You’re doomed.”

Jungwon groaned. “I think I’m accidentally falling in love with her again.”

“No such thing as accidental. You just never stopped.”

🍎

Maeumi wasn’t himself. You noticed it the moment he refused his dinner. He moved slowly, dragging his paws across the floor, and his eyes looked distant. Something was off. He usually had a healthy appetite, but tonight, nothing. You knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. “Hey, Maeumi, what’s going on?”

He let out a weak whimper. Panic rose in your chest. You didn’t know what was wrong but knew you needed help. You grabbed your phone without thinking.

Jungwon picked up almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” His voice was concerned, even though he wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Maeumi’s sick. He won’t eat, he’s not moving much… I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming over.”

It didn’t take long for him to arrive, his face tense as he crouched down to Maeumi’s level. The dog barely acknowledged him, enough to make you both nervous. “We should take him to the vet,” Jungwon said after a moment.

You nodded, already on the phone, setting up an appointment. The drive was tense, your hand gripping the door handle while Jungwon kept one hand on the wheel, his eyes between you and Maeumi.

When you finally arrived at the clinic, it was quiet. You and Jungwon waited in the sterile, cold waiting room. Maeumi was lying on your lap, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. You rubbed his head absentmindedly, trying to calm yourself. “He’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said quietly, glancing over at you.

You nodded but didn’t answer. He touched his hand lightly near yours as he reached for the water cup beside you, and for a fleeting second, you felt his warmth. You looked at him, but his gaze was somewhere else, not meeting yours.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he missed this. If he missed you. But before you could even entertain the thought, the door to the exam room opened, and the vet emerged, pulling your focus back to Maeumi. Jungwon stood up. “He’ll be fine,” he said.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the first time since your breakup, you couldn’t ignore how much it stung to see him so close yet still so distant.

🍎

By the time you and Jungwon returned from the vet, Maeumi was already dozing off on the couch, wrapped in an old blanket and looking much more himself. The panic had eased. You stood by the kitchen, hands on the counter, watching Jungwon kneel to check Maeumi. You glanced at the time. “It’s late. You should eat before you head back.”

Jungwon looked up. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I was gonna cook anyway,” you said, opening the fridge. “Don’t expect a five-course meal, though.”

“I never did,” he said, smiling as he joined you in the kitchen. “You still burn rice, don’t you?”

You gave him a light shove with your elbow. “That happened once. And the pot betrayed me.”

Then, he washed the vegetables while you stirred the soup. It was annoyingly comfortable.

By the time dinner was done, the table was set. Jungwon set down the last dish and glanced over at you. “This… feels like we never broke up,”

You froze. Then, you replied, “We never used to have this much garlic.”

He huffed a small laugh but didn’t push it. And for the rest of dinner, neither of you brought it up again.

🍎

The dishes were washed. The leftovers are packed. Maeumi, finally feeling a bit better, had claimed his usual spot at the foot of your couch, tail thumping gently as he dozed. You stood near the sink, drying your hands on a dish towel, when Jungwon spoke from behind you. “I didn’t just miss Maeumi, you know.”

“I miss…” He let out a soft breath. “I miss all of it.”

“Do you still think about us?” he asked.

The silence was deafening. You felt him watching your back, waiting. And if the room had stayed that quiet a second longer, you would’ve said something honest. But Maeumi barked as if he’d sensed the tension rising and decided to cut it clean. You both jumped slightly. You turned with a light laugh, avoiding his gaze. “I think someone needs his water refilled.”

Jungwon didn’t press. He nodded before crouching to check Maeumi’s bowl.

Neither of you said anything else.

But the question stayed.

🍎

It happens on a night that should’ve been uneventful. A regular handoff. Maeumi is snoozing on your carpet, belly full. Jungwon’s quiet tonight. You notice it right away, but you pretend not to. You handed over Maeumi’s leash, but he didn’t take it. “You still have my hoodie,” he says.

You glance up. “What?”

He gestures vaguely toward the coat rack. “The gray one. I saw it last week. You used to sleep in it.”

You shrug. “It’s comfortable.”

His jaw tightens, but he laughs a little. “Everything I gave you is ‘comfortable,’ huh?”

You don’t answer.

“I saw your story the other day,” he adds. “Looked like a date.”

Now, you furrow your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say. “You brought it up. So say it.”

“It’s confusing. For one moment, we laughed as if nothing had changed. Then, in the next instant, I remember how you used to fall asleep on my chest or steal all the blankets.” His voice wavers for a moment, but he pushes on. “I just can’t tell if I’m the only one stuck in the past or you’re better at pretending.”

You hesitate, then quietly. “I wish I could say I moved on, but I haven't.”

Jungwon’s shoulders drop a little. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks down. “Because you looked like you were doing okay. And I didn’t want to make it harder if you were healing.”

“I wasn’t okay,” you say softly. “I’m still not.”

Jungwon lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. “Neither am I.”

“I miss you,” he says. “Not just Maeumi. Not just Saturday mornings. I miss… talking to you. I miss knowing how you’re doing without having to ask.”

You look away. “Then why are we doing this?” you whisper. “Why are we acting like we’re fine?”

He lets out a breath. “Because maybe we don’t know how to be anything else.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He says, more gently this time, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t.”

He bends down and clips the leash onto Maeumi’s collar. The dog wags his tail, clueless, happy just to be loved by both of you. Jungwon straightens up but doesn’t turn to leave right away. He looks around your apartment. His eyes land briefly on the hoodie by the coat rack, then the familiar mug on your kitchen shelf.

“I still love you,” he says suddenly.

You freeze.

“I didn’t think I should say it. I didn’t want to make this harder. I thought… maybe it’d get easier if I stopped talking about it. But it didn’t.”

He’s not asking for anything. Not a hug. Not a kiss. Not to come back. He was standing there with his hand gently resting on Maeumi’s back because it kept him from breaking. “You laughed at one of my jokes last week,” he says softly. “And for a second, I forgot we weren’t together anymore. That’s how easy it is to fall back into you.”

You swallow hard. But he keeps going.

“I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. Or corner you. I just needed you to know. It wasn’t because I stopped feeling everything when we broke up. I was scared. And tired. And maybe I thought it’d hurt less if we ended it on our terms.”

He finally looks at you. “But it still hurts.”

Maeumi lets out a soft bark. Jungwon reaches down and scratches behind his ears; for a second, it’s just the sound of his hand brushing fur. Then he straightens again, but now you notice his eyes are a bit glassy. “I’ll take him tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow. If you need anything, or if… you want to talk more, I’m one call away.”

You nod. Slowly. You can’t get your voice to work. But your eyes say enough.

Jungwon opens the door and glances back just once. “Goodnight,” he says.

And then they’re gone.

🍎

Jungwon sits on the edge of his bed, hair slightly damp from a rushed shower. Maeumi is curled beside him, his head resting on his paw, and his eyes blinking up at him as if he understands more than a dog ever should. Jungwon takes a small breath and runs a hand through Maeumi’s fur. “You don’t have to look at me like that,” he mutters. “I didn’t yell.”

Maeumi blinks again.

“Okay,” Jungwon sighed, leaning back a little, “I maybe said too much.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Maeumi,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “She just looked at me like I was someone from a different life. That sucked.’’ Jungwon glances down and smiles sadly. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “Mommy and Daddy were just having a little disagreement.”

He lays back on the bed. “I’ll bring her back,” he whispers. “I swear, Maeumi. I’ll bring your mom back to me.”

Maeumi lets out a soft woof.

🍎

The rain had been pouring since morning. You didn’t expect anyone when the doorbell rang, especially not Jungwon. But there he was. Standing at your doorway, drenched from head to toe, Maeumi dripped beside him and looked more like a soggy mop than a dog. “Uh,” Jungwon offered sheepishly. “He refused to walk anywhere else.”

You said in disbelief. “You could’ve called.”

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

You step aside. “Come in before Maeumi gets mistaken for a wet sock.”

Towels came out. You wrapped one around Maeumi, rubbing his fur as he wagged his tail. Jungwon was quieter. You handed him a dry hoodie from your closet, which was his, actually. It still smelled like him, though it had sat folded for months.

He changed. You made tea. He sat across you on the couch, rubbing Maeumi’s ears absently. “I’ve been thinking,” Jungwon started, voice gentle. “We weren’t ready back then. But maybe now…”

You looked at him, guarded. “I’ve changed,” he continued. “You have too. And I don’t just mean getting better at feeding Maeumi actual food.” You smiled a little. He took it as permission. “I guess I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I didn’t say before. For not knowing how to stay when things got hard.”

You met his gaze. “I’m sorry, too. For pushing you away when I didn’t know what I needed.”

“Do you think Maeumi would be okay if we lived together again?” Jungwon asked suddenly, eyes hopeful.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for the dog or for you?”

A sheepish smile curved his lips. “Both.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his shoulder, your head resting there like it used to. “Maybe we could try again,” you said quietly. “For real this time.”

Jungwon’s hand found yours.

Maeumi snored at your feet.

And outside, the rain kept falling, washing everything clean.

[billieswh0r3]

can you do fem reader x billie, where reader uses the safe word?

✩︎ ’𝐩��𝐧𝐤𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞’

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 : you don’t want to but.. you cant help it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : soft!billie x fem!reader, crying, very brief oral (r!receiving) ,fluff!!

𝐚/𝐧 : sooo..i have so many drafts but i loved this idea and i had to get it out as soon possible :3 i hope its up to your expectations!

𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ’𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞’

✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎

to say your day has been awful is an understatement. you woke up late, you burnt your toast and as soon as you got to work your boss decided to take his anger out on you.

you could not wait for this day to be over..but when billie came home with that look in her eyes, you knew you couldn’t say no.

now your on your shared bed panting lightly tugging on her hair lightly as her face is stuffed between your legs. it should feel so good but..why doesn’t it? you couldn’t get out of your own mind, replaying everything that happened today just spoiled your mood.

but you didn’t want to ruin this for billie. she needed this and you knew it. before you knew it your cheeks felt wet. you were crying. crying at the events that happened today. crying on why this wasn’t pleasuring for you. crying cause you didn’t want to disappoint the girl who’s between your legs worshipping you like your a goddess.

you let out a soft whimper looking down at her, feeling tears stream down your cheeks. ‘billie..’ you whisper out letting your head fall back onto the pillow. you hear her let out a hum of acknowledgement. ‘taste so good sweet girl’ she mummers licking long strips onto you.

‘bil-‘ you hiccup scared of using the safe word. would she get mad..? you wanted her too but you knew that you can’t do this right now. ‘p-pineapple’ you say softly your hands freezing in her hair.

it’s like the world stopped. everything freezes for just a minute. you don’t know what you just did and billie not saying anything made you regret ever saying the word.

‘n-no no im sorry please..didn’t mean it keep g-going’ you let out in a soft sob trying to push her head back down but she keeps her head firm as she looks up at you. you can’t help it.. she was going to be so mad. ‘bils im sorry please’ you whimper out seeing her crawl up towards you.

you sob lightly as she puts a hand on your cheek, you involuntarily lean into her hand. ‘shh baby relax f’me yeah?’ she says softly wiping the tears from your cheeks. you screw your eyes shut not wanting to look at her. ‘no baby open those eyes, you know better’ she coos rubbing your cheeks lightly.

‘i-im sorry’ you choke out looking up at her. ‘sweetheart don’t be sorry..whats got you so worked up baby?’ she moves to pull the covers over you as she helps you sit up against the headboard. you shake your head not wanting to talk about it.

‘everything’s just gone wrong today’ you say softly to simplify things. billie hums understandingly rubbing soft circles onto your arms.

‘im sorry..i didn’t want to..dont be mad..’ you say nervously knowing she isn’t upset but you can’t help but apologize.

‘your okay sweet girl, i pinky promise’

you can’t help but let out a sob at her confirmation. you were so out of your mind. the world was blurry from everything. your day, the fact that you had to use to safe word. you never used the safe word before..so why was she being so understanding?

‘you’re not upset?’ you mumble your hands gripping the sheets as you slowly meet her gaze. ‘baby why would i be mad?’ you hear her ask in a tone that makes your heart clench.

‘cause i used the safe word..’ you confess looking away from her. ‘sweetheart.. you’re comfort is my number one priority.. i’m doing this to make you feel good..i love making you feel good but if your not into it then we dont have to continue’ she says turning your face to meet her eyes. ‘you never have to do anything if your not wanting it or not comfortable with it kay?’ you can feel your heart start beating at an abnormal pace, shes fucking perfect.

you nod softly sending her a soft look wanting her to know that i’m okay. ‘movie?’ you ask wanting to raise the mood a bit. you hear her laugh lightly before nodding. ‘pick anything sweet girl.. i’ll go get you water’ she hums moving off the bed making her way to the kitchen.

you can’t help but smile to yourself as you put a movie on. your so lucky to have her..someone so understanding and comforting.

billie comes back with the water with a soft smile on your face and thats when you new everything was gonna be just fine. and will you ever be afraid to use the safe word..?

never.

[aboutchriss]

NEW YEARS EVE

Pairing: BangChan X fem! Reader

Genre: ex to ???, smut i think

warnings: make out session, mention of: oral sex (f receiving), p in v, no protection (WEAR THEM!!!), creampie. let me know if I missed something.

Author note: You can clearly tell that this has been in my draft for a long time, I'm sorry!! I'm trying to get rid of all the drafts because I'm planning on writing a whole series 👀, I'll write and correct all the draft that i have and then I'll start writing the big project, meanwhile i'm dealing with some physical health problems (nothing to worry about), uni (i have nine exams to do), and my uni internship...so be patient...I love you...see ya🤠

💌 Remember! English it's not my first language, please be gentle with me! let me know if there's any mistake(s) 💌

"Let's raise a toast to the new year. In a couple of hours, a new year will begin. I hope you'll have the best new year ever, full of adventures, new friends, love, and a lot of sex—Chan glances at you. Let's eat and drink and...PARTY LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW!"

"Cheers!"

Your whole group of friends says together glasses of prosecco are all around the table, except for Mimi (just because she's pregnant).  you sit next to her, looking at her belly 

"Can I?" you ask before touching her belly, caressing it gently.

"What are you wishing for?" She asks, it's an inside joke, both of you believe that if you rub the belly it will bring good luck (it does!! Last time that you did it you passed the interview for your job).

"I need this to be over as soon as possible" you say touching her belly 

"Liar"  she says placing her hand on yours

"Why?"

"I saw how you looked at him" she says 

"what? He looked at me first!" you say justifying yourself

"what's going on between you two?" she asks looking at you 

"gurl..." you say 

"GURL? you think I'm dumb?" she asks 

"nono...it's just that...umh" you look down 

"oh girl what did you do?" she looks at you 

"ikissedhimlastmonthandnowicantstopthinkingaboutit"

"YOU WHAT?" she yells, the whole room looking at both of you

"Mimi..." 

"y/n say it out loud...I dare you" she says 

"I kissed him last month...or he kissed me...I don't know...and now I can't stop thinking about it...we met for a drink...because we're still friends even if we broke up...but umh...we got drunk and we ended up at his house... everything started in the Uber basically-"

"OKAY, slow down...I need something sweet to drink and some grapes"

You gather everything that the pregnant lady asked for, sit next to her, and start to tell her about what happened

“So it all started when I texted him, it’s not the first time that we've gone out after our break up, we're still friends so it's not that weird"

you show her the messages 

"Okay, go on"

she says stuffing her mouth with grapes  you sigh 

-

I got ready, even if I was late I wanted to be cute, NOT for him, but because I wanted to feel good after a long day of work, so I curled my hair and put a cute sundress on -even if it was a night date- and well...I shaved...my legs were HAIRY OKAY? and I put on a cute set of underwear because even though I was with my ex I thought that maybe I could, you know, fuck a stranger a relief some stress.

"strike number one, you don't fuck strangers, you need some kind of bond with the person that you want to fuck or you just can't..do it" she says chewing on grapes 

"I don't slap you just because you're pregnant"

"Whatever...keep going" she says moving her hands toward you 

as always I was late, but of course, he didn't complain i got into the car, he said that I was beautiful and he had that look in his eyes

"what look?" she asks

"the look that a man has when he wants to eat you alive or kill you"

"oh 

oh"

anyway, once we got to the bar he sits beside me and we start talking and shit, you know the usual, nothing more, nothing less.

After a couple of drinks a man, a hot one, approached me, he was talking about his work or something like that, I don't know I was drinking my second gin tonic, so at that point, I was tipsy...Chan was talking to a girl but when he saw that the hot dude hitting on me, he scared him away, after he stayed with me the whole night.

At three a.m or something he called an Uber, both of us were drunk as shit, and for some reason he only gave his address to the driver, during the ride he was still staring at me, with that look, the look that he had at the beginning of the night so I said 

"the fuck you're looking at?"

and he said 

"you"

nothing more, nothing less just 'you', at this point, he was getting closer, and his thigh was touching mine so I innocently placed a hand on it...and he said 

"you're playing with fire, meatball"

"HE CALLED YOU MEATBALL?" Mimi yells 

"shhhhhh, yes he did call me meatball"

"Isn't it the pet name that he used to call you when you were together?" you nod

"keep going this is getting interesting" she says sipping on her juice 

"do you think that it's safe for the child hearing about her aunt fucking her ex?" you say censoring the swear word for the sake of the baby in the belly

"the 'ex' is her uncle, so yeah don't worry, I wanna hear the spicy details, keep going bestie"

"where was I?"

oh, yeah he said

"you're playing with fire meatball"

and I was too stunned to speak for the alcohol or maybe because I missed that pet name, anyway we stared at each other for I don't know how long, and eventually we made it to his place. his arm was on the small of my back, guiding me because I was stumbling, he guided me into the elevator and pressed the 10th-floor -which it's his floor- I was leaning against the wall of the elevator and he was in front of me and AGAIN he was staring at me, this time he was staring at my lips, and- and I was blocked between him and the wall and i...kissed him

"YOU KISSED HIM?" your best friend yells

"let me finish, it's only the beginning" you say 

"Oh, what did you do?"

I was saying I kissed him and he fucking kissed me back and it was one of those kisses that makes you feel like you're in between hell and heaven, I felt alive again after months...he picked me up, and I locked my legs around his hips and I felt it

"GURL"

he walked out of the elevator while I was still between his arms and he never stopped kissing me, which by the way was heating minute after minute, he put the code on his door, got into his apartment, and pushed me against the door, it was a whole new experience because when we were together he never kissed me like that, he did but this time felt different. I started undoing...the button on his shirt and he gave me the 'this is wrong what are you doing?' look. We moved onto his couch, he was between my thighs, he took off his shirt and-

you cover your face feeling the heat on your cheeks with your hands 

"y/n don't tell me that..." she says, you nod and she has the nerve to slap your arm 

"bitch what the hell?" you say massaging your arm

"you fucked him" she said 

you shrug "I think that we both needed it"

"and I need the details, you were to the point where he was taking off his shirt"

at this point, he was bare chest, and I was almost foaming from my mouth, he got bigger, and touching him was like...being home after a long time, his hands were working on the zip of my sundress, and at one point between a kiss and some shy laughs he took the dress off of me, and his jaw dropped because - I didn't mention earlier but- the set of underwear that I was wearing was his favorite

"you did it on purpose didn't you?" she asks eating the last grape of her little bowl

"I mean, it was just a pure coincidence -you get up grabbing another bowl of grapes- I promise I wasn't planning on fucking my ex!"

I asked 

"Is this fine with you?"

He gave me a nod, grabbed me between his arms again, and walked towards his room, leaving our clothes behind, he laid me on his bed and the vanilla scent of his room made my brain short-circuit, or maybe my brain stop working because he was kissing my inner thigh and he knew what he was doing because receiving oral is my favorite thing ever, he started to...doing his job down there -he didn't even bother to take off the thong, he just put it to the side- and...he gave me one of the best orgasms of my life...maybe because of the built-up or I don't know maybe because it was him doing it...after that I kissed him. 

"you kissed him after he ate you out?"  she asks 

"yeah? you don't do this kinda thing with Changbin?" you grab one of the grapes and put it in your mouth 

"We never tried..."

"gurl you're pregnant" you point out

"I mean that we never asked each other if we're into kissing each other after heads...and don't try changing the topic...keep going"

he kissed me and for a moment I thought that was it, because he was laying with his head on my boobs, and my hand was between his curls and it felt so normal that I wanted to slap myself. At some point, I felt guilty because I knew that he was still hard...I was feeling it against my thighs so I said 

"you're gonna get blue balls, let me help you"

I had the nerve to giggle, and we started to fight about his thing, I ended up being on top of him...he was still wearing his jeans, and he was so hard that I bet that it was hurting him so I took off his pants, and i-am...fucked him, slowly, like painfully, I felt out of shape, it felt like our first time...he sat up while he was still on me, took off my bra -that I was still wearing- and started to kiss my breasts, he was so gentle that I don't know, I had the feeling that he was scared to hurt me, he made us turn and he was on top, he sped up and asked.

"Are you still on the pill?" I nodded and he said

"use your words, baby, please I need to hear you say them"

"yes, I'm still...on the pill...you can...you can cum in me"  he lost it, he started to thrust harder and at the end we both came but he came into me

"you're telling me that he-"

"yes"

"and that you-"

"yes"

"He has a breeding kink?" she asks 

"I said yes Mimi"

"wow, I didn't expect this" she says 

"yeah, I fucked up pretty well because after what we did I fell asleep in his arms, and we were naked, the morning after...we took a shower together and made breakfast for the both of us"

"WOW"

"Yeah..." you say

"Mimi..." 

"AAAAH! CHAN WHAT THE FUCK YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME, YOU CAN'T SCARE A PREGNANT WOMAN, OH MY GOD I'M THROWING UP ALL THE GRAPES THAT I ATE"

you start to laugh 

"I'm sorry -he gently rubs her belly- didn't want to scare my little niece"

"what do you want?" she asks

"her -he points at you- I wanna dance with her"

"ah take her, she's boring" she moves her hands 

"Mimi, what the fuck?" she giggles and waves at you as he grabs your hands to guide you to the center of the room where other people are dancing 

"what are you doing?" you ask as he pulls you against him to dance slowly

"I just wanted to...dance with you" he says putting his hand on the small of your back, maybe a little lower

"you wanted to dance with me? or...-you lower your voice- you wanted help with the thing between your legs?"

"well- i- you- i wanted- you..." he says blushing, even his ears getting pink

"you wanted help?" he nods shily 

"care to explain why you're hard?" you whisper to his red ear 

"your fault"

"my fault?"

"you have fucking thigh highs, heels, a skirt, and a shirt meatball, that's a combo killer to me and you know it" you laugh

"combo killer?" you ask 

"I'm dying right here" he put his head on your shoulder, his breath against your neck 

"ask it, Christopher, use your words"

"Can you help me? please" he says against your neck

"you're so desperate that you're begging?" he nods

"a quickie it's fine to you?" you ask 

"fuck yes, but the high thighs and the heels stay on" he says grabbing your hand 

"Is there a place where we can have some private time?" he asks 

"Upstairs, just don't make it obvious" you say

"Okay" he says, he quickly lifts you on his shoulder and walks upstairs

"I said don't make it obvious" you laugh 

"It wasn't that obvious"

"no?" you say 

"then why did Mimi drop her grapes?"

"maybe our niece kicked her guts" he says putting you down, pushing against the closet door 

"our?" you echo

"our niece, yeah. there's no way I'm letting you go after this and after last time" he says, his forehead against yours

"Chris?"

"yeah?"

"less talking" you kiss him

"yes ma'am" he says pushing you inside the closet

"we said a quickie, no more than 20 minutes"

"I think that I'll fuck you into the new year"

"what do you mean?" you ask

"3...2...1...happy new year meatball" he kisses your lips 

"Happy New Year pretty boy" you kiss him back 

[yamysunmoon]

Give it to me

Pairing: jenna ortega x fem!reader

Summary: Jenna has a secret desire she's never told anyone. She knows it's not that big of a deal, but still scares and fascinates her by equal parts. She'd only trust her deepest wish to you, her dom, of course.

Word count: 9.1k

Warnings: dom!reader, sub!jenna, use of a plug, strap-on!reader, rimmering, masturbation, ass fingering, oral (J receiving), spitting, sextape, rough(?) sex, referring to the strap as "cock", begging, praise, overstimulation (a lot), both J's and R's first time doing anal.

Part 2- "Gentle"

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since January. It's finally yours <3

MASTERLIST

The gentle sunlight of a new day slips through the cortains of Jenna's bedroom, making you blink and stir in her arms.

Fluttering your eyes open, you find Jenna's peaceful asleep expression in front of you. One of her arms is drapped across your waist and she's using the other as a pillow, cupping her neck.

She looks so serene like this, when the stress of her busy life isn't bothering her. Yesterday was her last day on set for the next three days, and she invited you over and asked you to spend this days off work with her.

You smile, remembering her flirty yet shy voice over the phone when she gave you the news, dropping in the information as if you were supposed to suggest the three days date instead of her.

You graze the side of her face with the back of your fingers, her eyes flutter and squeeze as soon as your touch is on her.

She opens her eyes, offering you a drowsy, glassy gaze. "Hi" she murmurs with that husky, sleepy voice.

You smile sideways. "Morning..." you lean in to kiss her forehead. "Slept well?" you look down at her as you ask, leaning back, and she stares back at you, her look thoughtful.

"I want to tell you something" she announces softly, withdrawing her arm from your wais and sitting up.

You frown, worried by her tone and shift in her demeanor. "What is it?" you sit up too, putting your hands on your thighs as you cross your legs and settle in front of her. You slide one hand closer to her, but then you stop yourself, hesitant.

She notices the doubt in your moves, and smiles sheepishly. "Oh don't worry, it's nothing bad. I'm just a bit nervous" she explains, reaching out to hold your hand.

She holds it with both hands, fondling the back with one hand and the palm with the other. Her fingers grazing yours, intertwining with them and caressing you so tenderly immediately calms you down.

"Okay" you whisper. You clean your throat, realizing how nervous you've got all of a sudden. "Just say it, love."

She takes a deep breath in, steeling her nerves. She looks down at your hands together as she speaks, "Lately I've been thinking a lot about something."

You tilt your head down slightly, looking at her intently even if she's not looking at you. "About what?"

You witness her cheeks flush a pale pink. "About... A fantasy of mine" she offers, warily. She glances up very briefly, her cheeks go a little darker when her eyes meet yours.

You scoot up your eyebrows in amused surprise. You were taking the situation in a very different way. "Oh" you let out, still very much oblivious to say something else, "well, what's it about?"

She ducks her head, her bangs hiding her eyes. You wait patiently, but she stays silent for some long seconds, playing with your hand between hers. You decide to give her some reassurance.

"You know I'm not gonna judge you, right?" you pause, gauging her reaction. She doesn't move much, but you know she's listening.

"We've done some pretty freaky stuff already, and I absolutely love to try new things with you. I think it helps us bound more, and it's definitely fun and hot as fuck. You don't have to worry."

You pause again and bend forward a little. Your hand was meek between hers, but now you move it a bit to caress her forearm.

She sighs and whimpers quietly, her shoulders scoot up a bit when she inhales deeply. "Okay" she breathes out, emptying her lungs.

She finally looks at you and you offer a soft, encouraging gaze. "There goes nothing, then" she murmurs and then winces, immediately regretting her words.

You smile gently and nod, supportive. She tries to keep eye contact, but her gaze ends up drifting nervously between your eyes and the features of your face as she explains.

"I've been... Picturing you— inside me."

You tilt your head, curious. "Okay...?"

"But not where you usually... Are."

She looks at you intently, hoping you get the hint.

Understanding dawns on your face, but your eyes narrow with suspicion and you smile mischievously.

"What do you mean?"

She observes you, then realizes you're just playing. She blushes violently now and looks away. "Don't" she grumbles, flush spreading down her neck and up to her ears.

Her adorable reaction makes you chuckle lightly. "Oh, come on" you tease, "all this mystery and you can't at least say it?"

She pouts, stubborn. You scoot closer to her, your knees graze and your voice comes out softer now. "We can't even attempt to do it if we can't talk about it openly."

Her pout deepens for a moment, but then her expression relaxes as your words sink in. She sighs once again, knowing you're right.

"Okay" she concedes, looking at you. Her eyebrows were still frowned, but your gentle body language and attentive attitude move her.

"Okay" she repeats, lighter. "I'd like us to try pegging."

You smirk, satisfied. "I thought it was called that way only when a woman does it to a man."

"Oh, shut up" she rolls her eyes and waves her hand, but you both chuckle a little, the goofy joke easing the atmosphere.

She taps at your thighs, scooting closer and looking down at your lap. "Okay, so..."

You engage in a playful yet honest conversation about how you'd approach this fantasy of hers. She explains how she's pictured it and her concerns about it, given its fame of being painful and uncomfortable.

You soothe her, pretty confident about it all because of the endless conversations you've had in this regard with your male gay friends, who have given you plenty information about it.

You suggest a specific sex toy to try on before moving to the strap.

"Plugs are small and smooth. Their characteristic shape helps accomodate to it gradually, and I've heard they bring a one-off feeling once it's inside."

Jenna takes in your words, considering your suggestion with thoughtful nods.

"OK, so... Since I have a couple days off..." her hands slide up and down your thighs as she looks at you with a glint in her eyes, much comfortable now. "What if we try it... Today?"

You smile as she leans closer, her eyes on you and her breath mingling with yours.

"That's perfect by me" you mutter.

Her lips curl up in a shy smile, and she gives you a peck. "I'm gonna make an order then. I know a very discreet sex shop that can make the deliver for us to have it in the evening." She kisses you again, making you feel a bit dizzy. "Also, I'm gonna douche as well, I don't wanna feel all self-concious mid scene" she adds in a whisper.

Her honesty makes you grin. "Whatever, okay. I don't mind that much..."

"You've said you wanna try rimmering" she interrupts you, poking your nose, "I ain't letting you do that without the douche situation happening."

You laugh out loud, your eyes crinkling at the corners, causing her to smile fondly.

"Okay, okay" you concede, blushing slightly and waving your hands in dismiss. "Deal."

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

You're wearing nothing but your underwear -boxers for women- and a bra. She's wearing sport shorts and a loose shirt

The box is resting on the table in front of you two. Jenna steals glances at you, yet her eyes remain mostly fixed on the object.

"Should we open it already?" she mutters anxiously.

You look at her, exhaling air you weren't aware of holding. Emptying your lungs, you nod.

"Yeah. Let's open it."

Jenna doesn't hesitate and opens the box, revealing several plugs of different sizes and two bottles of lubricant. She opens one of them, of neutral taste and smell.

"I prefer this one" she whispers, handing it to you. Your eyes flicker between her and the bottle, realizing how breathy her voice already has become.

Jenna is so excited, with no need of you doing anything in particular.

Just the thought, the reality, of doing this with you; of finally experiencing this fantasy that's been in her head for way too long; has her bothered enough to be already trembling just at the sight of you holding that bottle.

You inspect the bottle, sniffing. You pour some of it on your index finger, then brush it against your thumb.

Distracted as you are testing the product, takes you some seconds to glance at Jenna, feeling her strong, needy stare.

When you finally look at her, you find her intense, longing stare fixed on your fingers, then snap up to your face. The sparkle in her eyes, the gleam that lights up her entire face with a hint of deep yearning, almost pulls a moan out of you.

She doesn't prevent that same reaction from happening within her, and so she does moan. A ver weak, quiet whimper reverbing against her lips, right before her jaw relaxes dropping slightly, her tongue sticking out slightly to sweep her bottom lip in a wet gesture.

The tension could be cut with a knife. She's standing there, silent, waiting for your orders in a freezed yet more than available stillness. She's waiting for the gun shot, she's expecting the signal.

You lick your lips yourself, in a deliberate way that makes her frown her eyebrows slightly, clearly doing a big effort not to complain. But she looks too adorable waiting for your instructions like this, so you decide to be benevolent and give her some sort of direction.

"Bend over, princess. Over the table."

Your voice is almost soft, almost polite. It drives her insane when you use that tone on her, as if your words were a suggestion, an idea. As if she was gonna consider not doing what you ask her to do, even for a second.

Also, the nickname gives her the mark she needed. When you call her princess, you both know it's all started. The game begins.

She obviously complies, presenting herself to you. Her hands fumble on her sides, she hesitates about where to put them. And so you give her a hint, how helpful of you.

Settling the bottle on the desk, you run your fingers along the length of her arms, finally reaching her hands. You cover the back of her hands and curl her fingers with a gentle caress, molding her body as if she was clay.

Her hands end up holding the edge of the table, over her head. This position allows her to arch her back and stretch her body, presenting herself even further.

"Hmm, that's right... You look so sexy, princess" you coo in a husky murmur as you gently grind your hips against her backside.

She stifles a high-pitched whimper, and turns her head to rest her right cheek on the table. You notice how blushed she's become, how the rosy flush is taining her cheeks.

She's nervous, you can tell. She wants it, you can also tell.

She pulls her hips back, pressing herself against you boldly. Then she nods, eyes fixed on the wall. She's too shy to glance at you for now, but her body language and head gently tilting tells you everything you need to know.

Hooking your fingers on the waistband of her shorts and panties underneath, you pull it all down.

Grazing her smooth skin on the way down, you squat between her legs, facing her ass.

She kicks off the clothes ragged on her ankles, throughing them away in a fervid movement. This makes you smirk.

Splaying out your fingers, your hands easily envelop her buttocks, You give her two playful, testing squeezes. She whines again, this time you catch her looking at you over her shoulder.

You two share a stare. Your is joyful, shinning with excitement and the unquestionable pleasure of control. Hers is pleading yet patient, the vivid image of trust.

That look in her eye is what makes you slip you digits lower, sliding between her folds to spread her already gathering wetness all over her slit.

She breaks eye contact, rolling her eyes as she turns to look to the front, but it doesn't take her long to throw her head back, blessing you with her always sultry, tempting pants.

You've decided to start by something she knows, a sensation she's used to. However, it always feels like the first time with Jenna.

Doesn't matter how many times you've masturbated her in the past months, doesn't matter how many times she's felt your fingertips circling her clit, the length of your fingers covering her slit, gently warmed by her pussy lips.

Doesn't matter to her, doesn't matter to you, because she's never failed to throw her head like that, to squirm wiggling her hips invitingly, to whisper silent pleas for more. Each and every time.

And so you get your wrist to work, touching her in that side-to-side motion that causes her arousal to soak your fingers, spreading it all over her core, keeping her nice and wet for you.

Her breath is labored as she grinds against your fingers, and you can feel her weight, her body relaxing under your touch.

Your other hand has never stopped gropping her ass, experimenting with the patterns and pressure. But then something shifts. Guessing she's ready, you use your fingers to spread her cheeks.

She inhales sharply, pausing her grinding for a moment. She squints at you, then her eyes wide as she realizes what's about to happen. You look at her intently, seeking any sign of discomfort or withdraw.

You find none.

Instead, she pushes her hips back again, then rolls forward, brushing herself against your hand bluntly.

Her cautious restlessness has always been your weak spot.

Leaning forward, you start by spreading kisses all over her buttcheeks. She whines louder, encouraging you. And so, you use your teeth.

Nipping gently, you map out her entire roundness, deliberately ignoring her hole for now.

She grasping onto the edges of the table lively, and although she doesn't complain for your languid teasing approach, her adorable whines let you know she's getting impatient.

But here's the thing, there's nothing you desire more than to push Jenna's buttons; than to drive her to a mindset where she'll do anything in exhange of the vigorous, wrecking touch she knows she can get from you.

After leaving her buttcheeks with faint reddish marks, you finally dart out your tongue.

Trailing a spiral drawing of open-mouthed kisses that gradually gets smaller, you finally reach the tight hole.

At this point she's distracted by your attention and she grinds against your hand absentmindedly. She can get like this sometimes during a scene; where her mind is focused in too many things, too many sensations, and this can lead her to feel overwhelmed and anxious at the end.

That's why you withdraw your hand in a tender, thoughtful touch.

"Thanks" she says in sotto voce, letting go a soft sigh.

Now, both of you are utterly focused in the stimulation at task.

Now that you have both of your hands at your disposal, you grab her fullness and spread her cheeks purposefully, revealing her pink tightness.

You are able to notice her pleasure dripping down her outer lips, but quickly drift your gaze to her hole. You've got other things to care about right now.

Leaning forward, you make contact with her most intimate part for the first time.

She lets out a curious noise, something between awe and doubt as you press your lips against her. But she gasps the moment your tongue makes its appearance; swirling around the area.

Reaching for the lube, you lean back slightly and pour a generous amount there, quickly being spread by your skillfull tongue.

With soft bobs of your head, you flutter your eyes shut and focus on the sensation of her cheeks against your face, your nose gently brushing her coccyx, your hands fondling her round cheeks.

She's tilting her head, uneasy, trying to get comfortable in her contained eagerness. She follows the bobbing of your head and rolls her hips backwards, pressing herself against you in a languid, sultry dance.

Her fingers clutch the table, she starts to bounce deeper, moving her body back and forth in a way that makes you moan against her flesh.

Your tongue swirls and laps slowly and determined, and you can feel her twitch against your touch, gently giving in to your attention.

You're curling your fingers rhythmically, squeezing her buttcheeks, pushing them against the sides of your mouth or spreading them wide.

Your game makes her squirm more, rolling her hips back and forth and to the sides, unruly. She's slowly losing control, the smoldering desire taking control of her body and thoughts.

When you handle her like this, you have a very clear purpose- to make her lose it. To use her trust in your advantage up to a point where her mind is blank, completely yielding to your wishes; utterly giving herself, body, mind and soul; to you.

She's jerking, pushing her hips against your face, shamessly grinding her backside against your lips, your tongue, your hands. So when you lean back she whines miserably, obviously disagreeing with your choice of actions.

"Why...?" she moans, looking at you over her shoulder.

But the question gets trapped in her throat when she takes in the sight of you looking at her as your index finger presses against her hole.

A shuddering sigh leaves her lips and she arches her back. Like a work of magic, her hole cedes to you, her muscles gently stretching around your digit.

With the lube having soaked your hand completely -task you took care of while she was busy complaining about your mouth no longer on her-, you have enough confidence in yourself and in her body to push your finger a little deeper.

A couple of inches slide in, and she frowns in a mixture of faint pain and a hint of pleasure.

You pause, awaiting for feedback.

"Go... On" she gasps out, hesitating.

You slide a little further, then pull out only to bump those couple inches over and over again, slowly.

She flutters her eyes shut and squeezes her eyes, sweaty creases on her forehead as she gets used to the fresh intrusion and gets to know the new pleasurable sensation.

Gradually, her hips start to move again, her body bouncing gently as she parts her lips to exhale soft gasps.

"Yeah? Feels good?" you breath out, transfixed by the intimacy and the sensuality of it all.

Locks of hair fall gracefully over the sides of her face, and they wiggle gently with each bounce. They tremble even more when she nods fervently.

"Yes..." She moans quietly, her cheeks painted with a fresh new wave of flush, "So fucking good, baby..."

You can see in her face that she's lost in the pleasure. She's pushing back at your finger as if she'd been doing it for years, her muscles twitching and pulsing around you.

You pound into her more firmly, curling your digit experimentally with each thrust, exploring her. Eventually, you find the perfect angle that makes her quiver and whisper urgent pleas.

"More... Please, baby, more..."

Before you know, you're fingering her knuckle-deep, sliding your finger in and out so comfortably it's obscene.

The strong smell of her arousal hits your nose, she wiggles uncontrollably, desperately seeking more, and her aching neglected pussy pulses insistent.

You almost feel sorry, but this new phase of her pleasure gives you free pass to the next step you're eagerly willing to discover.

In a swift move, you reach the smaller plug. She looks at you askance, a hint of defiance in her eye.

"I can take more" she murmurs in a husky voice, and purposefully impales herself on your finger.

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head in amusement.

"I'll be the judge of that, don't you think?" you coo.

She hoffs, but immediately inhales deeply as you withdraw your finger, using both hands to spread lube on the toy, preparing it for her.

She doesn't retort, secretly relishing on the bliss of the mocking way you always take care of her.

The way she inhales sharply when you insert the object urges you to plant a soft kiss on the small of her back.

"You're doing so good, princess..." you murmur, slowly sliding it in.

As you anticipated, her inner muscles relax in its wake, her body not betraying her at all. Instead, she starts grinding shortly after.

"God..." she exhales in a dry, low moan.

"Ain't no god implicated here, sweetheart" you quip, stading up behind her once the toy is comfortably inserted in her.

"Just me" you add feidging modesty, and that's when she feels your thighs caging her ass, hips rolling to increase the sensations of the toy inside her.

She gasps in surprise and agreement, pulling back against your thrusts, the toy shifting inside her.

"Oh my oh my oh my" she chants in a trembling whisper, feeling herself getting closer and closer.

You reach for her mound again, your fingers easily finding her bundle of nerves, and you gasp when you feel it swollen and damp.

She jolts urgently, her whole body at your disposal, violently grinding against both your hand and your hips pullings the toy inside her with the delicious rolling of her hips.

Your free hand explores her back, fingers trailing up her spine till you reach the back of her neck, which you hold in a firm, tender grip, wrapping your fingers on either sides.

She lets out bated breaths and breathy whimpers, and she shifts giving you better access to her neck.

She's pliant yet incredibly restless, her wetness coats your fingers letting you know how close she is.

"Can I... Can I please..." she moans desperately, bucking harshly against your hand and hips.

You rock your hips against her mercilessly, the flat base of the toy slamming deliciously against the fabric of your underwear, gratting you with a pleasant friction.

"Can you what, princess?" you coo, sliding your fingers into her hair, gently scratching her scalp.

This makes her shiver and throw her head back toward your touch.

"Come on, speak your mind... Tell me what you need..." you encourage her, your tender voice a deep contrast to your firm shoves and circling on her clit.

She lurches vigorously, rubbing her cunt against your fingers and swings her hips towards you, the toy shifting inside her.

"Can I... Can I come, please?" she coos at last in a husky, whimpering voice. "Please, let me come... I need it so bad..."

Her thin hoarse pleading voice does something to you. You can feel your heart slamming in your chest and your stomach twisting.

The way she asks for it, the way she begs for it, sinks you into the urgent wish of meeting her needs.

"Oh course, beautiful" you say out of breath, "show me what you've got."

Her movements turn more erratic, frenzied, and she cries out your name as she pulls back and forth, desperately rubbing herself against your fingers on her puffy clit.

You press your hand against it, granting her with more pressure than what she can reach for herself.

She inhales sharply and her body goes stiff, arching her back beautifully. This causes her ass you rise up, and you move your hips in circular motions, the toy provoking undescriptable sensations inside her.

With a final, air-piercing wail, she lets go. She grinds avidly as she comes undone, her body jolting and writhling with overstimulation, but she still shoves relentlessly against your hand, milking it for all it's worth.

You watch her in awe. Her hair falls down her back like a courtain, your hand slips down to her lower back, which you pamper soothingly.

She finally snaps her head forward, her forehead softly hitting the table. Jenna lets out trembling sighs, trying to gain some sort of control.

"Don't worry about it" you whisper, your hand caressing her slower, in a shallow touch, your hips slowing down, "I've got you, princess. You don't have to think at all."

She whines, plunging her hips against your touch. But she jolts involuntary, her body trying to tell her it's too much. She rolls her hips again, stubborn.

"Shhh..." you reach for her hair, stroking it lovingly. "You need a moment, sweetie... Don't be hard on yourself..."

She whines louder, in complain. She turns her head, resting her right cheek on the table. "But... I want more..." she whimpers in a husky, vulnerable thin voice.

"Oh... Don't worry about that, pretty girl. I'm not done with you, not at all" you say in a smug yet soft tone, causing her to shudder visibly.

"Not even remotely."

Your hand roams from her hair to her blades. You splay out your fingers and apply a little of pressure, while you gently withdraw your hand from her core and pull your hips back.

As your hand trails down her spine, she stands up and looks at you over her shoulder, following your movements like a puppet.

Her lips part releasing soft pants, and she looks at you through a hazy expectant gaze.

Your hands meet her hips, you hold her securely as she leans back, her back pressing against your chest. However, you make sure she doesn't press her backside against your mound.

The deep trust in her eyes moves you, and you lean in to press a soft kiss to her lips, which she welcomes placing her hands over yours.

You attempt to lean back, but she brings up one hand and cups your cheek, parting her lips to deepen the kiss, tracing your bottom lip with her tempting tongue.

You realize she needs this. She needs the comfort, the tenderness, after the good care you've taken of her and her body.

You tilt your head and part your lips as well, giving her access to your mouth. You both groan quietly as your tongues meet, displaying an erotic, languid dance.

She melts into the kiss, blessing you with soft whines that die in your mouth, her hand sliding to trace your jawline and cup your neck.

After a long minute, you break the kiss tenderly, leaning back. She whimpers pathetically, earning a wry smile from your behalf. Her gaze finds your eyes, and she frowns in adorable confusion.

Smiling fondly, you grab the hem of her shirt and pull it up. She helps you, and once the fabric hits the floor, you need a second to take in the sight of her fully naked before you.

Without taking your eyes off her, you point at the bed with a swing of your head. "Lie down." Your voice gets back its usual something, that mix between gentle suggestion and hoarse command.

Something in her eyes shift, and she returns to her subspace in a matter of seconds.

She wobbles her way to the bed, you watch her as she struggles yet complies eagerly, stifling soft whines her way there.

It`s just a couple of steps, and once her thighs touch the edge of the bed, she turns around facing you, and sits down. Keeping eye contact and with her lips parted with soft pants leaving them, she leans back and props herself up on her elbows, ogling at you.

You reach her and walk your hands along her legs, making her gasp and hold her breath. You grin.

"It's okay, princess, breathe."

Your hands catch her knees, and you cup them from the back and make her bend them up, so that her feet rest on the bed and she's more spread.

Your gaze goes down, relishing an unobstructed view of her puffy drenched folds, swollen clit and plug buried in her.

You glance briefly at her, finding her cheeks flushed in deep crimson, grossy eyes looking down at you.

Usually she'd complain when you get like this, all snoopy and nonchalant, just staring at her body like that. She gets shy and self-concious when you look at her with such attention, squirming and urging you to touch her already.

Nonetheless, this time she doesn't say a word. She just leers at you, awaiting. At first you assume she's just being more obedient today, but as you gape down at her, mesmerized, the answer is before your eyes.

She's sensitive as hell. One squirm and the toy will shift inside her. Her previous release is dripping down her outer lips onto her inner thighs, and judging by her bated breathing you can tell she's still worked up.

And eventhough you know she isn't ready yet, her stare and restless body language let you know how bad she needs it anyway.

And so, you deliver.

First comes the sharp inhale. Then, she squeezes her eyes shut, frowning in bliss and a glimpse of pain. She squirms, adjusting to the sensation. She's barely registering the feeling of your tongue on her cunt when she starts bucking.

You grin against her flesh, because even if her legs are trembling as you hold them firmly, even if she can't find a rhythm because her body is unwilling to cooperate, she still bucks eagerly against your mouth.

As she rolls her hips, the toy obviously shifts inside her, causing her thighs to tense against your temples, her instincs telling her to close her legs.

However, her fingers are lost in your hair, tangled, scratching your scalp and urging you deeper.

She's so avid, you think to yourself.

It doesn't even take you that long. She tries to delay it, because she loves it when you put your tongue on her, but not even her deep breaths in and steady sighs spare her from losing control.

She jerks and rocks her hips greedily, and her legs stutter, her weak moans coming out in shuddered gasps. With a final loud moan, her back arches off the bed and she comes hard in your mouth.

You lap at her eagerly, not giving her even a moment to catch her breath, earning weak whines seeking mercy.

"P-please..."

Once you're satisfied with your performance, you give her one last long lick from her entrance to below her swollen clit, chosing to be benevolent with the manhadled bundle of nerves.

"T-t-thanks" she stammers beautifully, barely above a whisper.

You climb up, leaving feather-touch kisses on her mound, lower stomach, midriff. She quivers each and every time.

"Oh you're being so good this evening, princess. I wonder how far we can take it, huh? How far you're willing to take it."

Your soft coos hiding a sultry threat always get into her. She's far gone in the real life fantasy you're both creating, in the risky yet safe mindspace you get her in.

"Much more" she breathes out, visibly trembling as you level her, pressing your breasts against hers ever so slightly. She inhales.

"I can take more."

Looking directly into her eyes, you find nothing but raw trust and deep desire. It bathes you in an intense feeling of affection and pride.

You both gasp quietly as you grab the base of the toy and carefully withdraw it from her. She lifts her hips, helping you, and she grasps onto your shoulders for anchor.

"There you go" you purr in a whisper, "you're precious."

She blushes again, her lips parted and plump. Your gaze drifts down to them, and she does the same, staring bluntly at your mouth.

Throwing the toy somewhere onto the lower bed, you lean in and kiss her passionately, feeling her arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you down.

She finds comfort in the kiss, and lets out a contented sigh as she feels you gently grinding against her, keeping some sort of contact between you and her aching, intimate parts.

After a heavy make-out session, she is the one that leans back this time, her head gently hitting the pillows. She gives you a hazy half-lidded glance, her chest heavy as she tries to catch her breath.

You smirk. Leaning in again, you avoid her lips and instead go for her neck.

Choosing a particular sensitive spot, you wrap your lips around it and suck firmly, gradually harder, hearing her whine and her throat vibrating until you release the flesh, watching proud as a more than visible hickey forms on her skin.

She slides one hand into your hair and strokes it lovingly. "You can mark me all you want" she murmurs with that vulnerable, sexy voice of hers.

You stare at your handiwork, brushing your thumb across it wiping off the saliva. You sit up, catching her off guard. "I'm gonna take a picture" you say as you fumble for Jenna's phone on the nighstand.

Kneeling between her spread legs, you hold the phone with one hand and you put your other hand on her cheek, gently pulling down to make her turn her head the other way. The tendons tense on her neck, making the hickey stand out.

"Gorgeous" you mutter, earning a soft lids fluttering from her. You smirk as you take the picture— seems like she'd do anything for a praise.

After taking several pictures, you put the phone down but your smile fades as you look at her, your expression turns thoughtful.

No longer feeling your hand on her cheek, she turns her head and looks up at you, curious. "What?" she asks breathier than intended, already sensing you've come up with a new way to ruin her.

You swallow, wondering if you're about to overstep. This is not something you two have ever discussed, and for a moment you fear the faith she's put in you will vanish.

But she looks up at you with such adoration, that you can't back down.

"Can I record you?"

Her eyebrows scoot up, and she sits up against the headboard. She looks at you with curiosity, rather than judgement.

"Doing what?"

Obviously, she's used to having cameras on her, but this is different. It's all different with you.

Now that's where the trick hangs. You swallow hard this time, and then dare to continue.

"I'd like not to tell you."

She frowns, confused, and for a moment you think she's gonna say the safeword.

"It's nothing that crazy" you rush to clarify as she was taking a breather. She halts, willing to listen.

"It's just, uh... It's..."

"Okay" she interrupts.

You stop mumbling and look down at her, hopeful. You find her smirking. Your slightly nervous behavior and need to reassure her is all she needs to know.

"Go ahead."

You hit record before you can think it through. Angling the lense towards her, your gaze moves from the screen to her. And you hope the camera is catching the vulnerable, tantalazing smile she's giving you.

Reaching for her chin, you make her tilt her head slightly. Her smile remains, giving you a perfect view of her profile side and the big hickey on her neck.

"You like it?" you coo, brushing your thumb over the mark again.

"Yeah" she purrs, "it's a bit sore and you make it tickle" she teases squinting at you.

You let go of her face, instead you trace her jawline with the back of your fingers. She turns her head slowly and glances at you, she bites her lip.

Her eyes are glinting with mischief, obviously enjoying the banter. She's looking at you, but her eyes flicker to the camera from time to time, making sure it catches the perfect frame of her seductive expression.

Her lip is still trapped between her teeth, she's got a smugly stupid smile on her face, and so you brush your thumb along the hidden bottom lip, and you press and pull down the skin. You watch the pale white skin turn rose as she releases her lip, coming out red.

You slide your thumb along the swollen lip, and she doesn't hesitate even for a second before slowly throwing her head forward, sucking on your digit.

With a skillful suction, she sucks your thumb up to the knuckle, then leans back, peeking up at you. A thin thread connects your thumb to her lips, and she gives you a knowing smirk before taking in your thumb again.

She bobs her head, naughty, and glances at you occasionally as your finger disappears and reappears, over and over again.

She's giving you a show.

Her cheeks hallow with the suction, and she raises her eyebrows each time she looks up, making you feel light-headed.

You can't take your eyes off her. Mouth ajar, you let her play with your digit as if she was giving you head, feeling her stretched lips around your thumb, her saliva soaking you, she's even drooling a little.

After a minute or so, you pull your thumb out, catching her off guard. She was with her eyes shut in bliss and so she looks up at you whining in protest.

Even in your stunned state, you smirk. There it is, that eagerness.

But as she looks up, she notices what you're doing. She sees your cheeks hollowing a bit as well, your jaw moving, your lips pressed together.

Realization dawns on her face as she finally gets why you wanted to record.

"Yes" she hisses, enthused about it. "Do it, please" she whispers, "spit in my mouth."

She relaxes her jaw letting it drop, pliant, and sticks out her tongue. She throws her head back a little, the perfect angle. She looks at you with hooded. yearning eyes. She's already panting heavily.

The whimpering, beautiful little mess she is.

You cradle her chin, pressing your fingers against her jawline, with your other hand firmly holding the phone.

Then, she closes her eyes, and you feel her hot breath against your fingers.

Bending your body a little as you do it, you spit directly in her mouth. A trikle drips down from your lips to her tongue.

The camera catches the view of her side, her inviting mouth and warm tongue, her eyes shut and the tiny whimper she exhales, the tip of her tongue curling up just enough.

She gasps when she feels it, and she opens her eyes ever so slightly, looking at you with heavy eyelids as she closes her mouth instinctively and swallows it without further question.

She makes you whimper in longing when she behaves like this. So willingly, so mischievous, reading your mind and doing what you want her to do even before you know it.

There's no need to ask.

She looks at you relishing on your expression of astonishment with a pleased smirk on her face, licking her lips.

A sudden rush runs through you.

The insatiable need to own her.

You stop the recording and block her phone, putting it on the nighstand with an anxious move. She goes rigid, holding her breath, watching your every move.

You scoot back on the bed, giving her some room. Then your voice comes up dry, not leaving any room for argument.

"On your knees. Now. Facing the headboard."

She complies eagerly, sinking her kness on the matress and giving you her back, clutching the edge of the headboard to steady herself.

"What are you gonna...?" she mutters, incapable of finishing her sentence as she hears the creak of a drawer opening.

She inhales sharply, her body tensing in expectation as she awaits your next move.

"You'll have to be a little patient, princess."

Her fingers curl slightly, holding the wood as she feels the bed sinking slightly with your weight when you climb onto it.

"So... How are you planning on behaving, sweetheart?" you murmur, adjusting the strands around your hips.

Her breath hitches, instantly recognizing the tickling of the belts being tied.

"Good," she retorts anxiously, "really good. I promise."

You can see her fidgeting, pacing her weight from one knee to the other, restless. She moves her head a little, but prevents from looking over her shoulder. She knows it's not allowed.

"Oh yeah?" you tease in a breathy, low tone. That specific voice she'd do anything for. "Are you certain about that?"

You watch her head moving, she nods fervently. "Hundred percent sure" she hisses, rubbing her thighs together.

"Well I hope you keep your sweet promise, because we're about to have so much fun, princess. But I'll need you to trust me and be good for me, can you do that?"

You're spreading lube along the shaft of your toy, and she's about to answer when she hears it. The wet, squelching sound of fingers wrapped around your cock, stroking it.

"Oh my..." she whines miserably, throwing her head forward for a moment, resting her forehead against the headboard.

You notice her hips moving, bucking against nothing, her butt tensing and relaxing with each move.

You stroke yourself vigorously, shamelessly showing off, provoking her with an image she can only enjoy in her imagination while you solely give her the chance to hear.

"Hmm..." you groan, enjoying yourself, rubbing yourself against the base through your underwear.

She stifles a moan. How she loves hearing you make those noises... She's already feeling dizzy, intoxicated. And utterly at your mercy.

"Well?" you purr, deliberately jerking in a way that makes the squelching noise even louder.

She nods effusively, locks of hair gently swaying over her beautiful back.

"Yes" she whispers, grasping onto the headboard for dear life, her thighs rubbing together, "Yes, my love. I trust you. I'll be so good, I promise" she keeps whispering, a deep longing tainting her words.

You crawl closer to her, and you hear her breath stucking in her throat as she notices your closeness, the warmth of your body enveloping her, your energy all over her.

She loves it so dearly, she's obsessed with it. She turns her head ever so slightly, but at the last moment she closes her eyes, giving you a perfect view of her insane profile, with her eyes shut and eyebrows frowned.

You stroke yourself harder, just at the sight of her. Her jaw drops slightly, letting go sweet gasps as she realizes she is the cause of your now faster speed.

"Touch yourself, gorgeous" you whisper, and she jolts a little when she realizes how close you are, your warm voice puffing at her shoulder.

She nods firmly and turns her head to be looking at the wall.

"As you please" she mutters in that husky, shy voice of hers; the one she uses when you command her to do something she desperately wants to do, yet she wouldn't if it wasn't because you told her to.

You watch her hips roll as she starts to fuck her hand slowly, dry pants leaving her lips. "Like this?" She breathes out, desperate to earn your approval.

You tilt your head, grinning. "A little faster" you tease, stroking yourself in a exaggerated motion just so that she can keep hearing it very clearly.

She whimpers, squirming slightly. You know her and her body enough to know that she wished she could do it slower, because she's already close and she knows she has to hold it back until you tell her to let go.

Touching herself faster is risky, which also turns her on even more.

She nods weakly, and you see her arm moving faster, her hips bucking following that rhythm.

You chuckle quietly, now you stroke your toy slower but very firmly, hitting the base with your fingers, creating a splashy thud each time.

She whines, turning her head a bit. She wants to follow your own pace, touch herself imagining you're inside of her.

But instead, you've got her ignoring her own instincts in favour of your desires.

"Slow down..." Your low voice interrupts her desperate thoughts, and she lets out a whine of relief as she pulls her hips down slower.

She grasps onto the headboard with her free hand, her fingers curling in helpless need.

You crawl a little closer and graze her lower back with the tip of your wet toy.

"Ah...." She whimpers very quietly, jolting at first but then pushing her ass up, arching her back.

"Faster"

She follows your lead, circling her clit vigorously, releasing hoarse, high-pitched moans.

Her whole body is glowing in a thin layer of sweat, she's writhling and her legs tremble, she's struggling to hold herself, both physically and mentally.

If it was for her, she'd be leaning against your chest, letting you use her as you please, relaxing completely onto you, not bothering to use her hands on herself.

But instead, you torture her beautifully. You force her to listen to her body and ignore it at the same time, she touches herself not like she'd like to, but as you tell her to.

"Slower"

You reach her wrist and shift it a little, making her stimulate her folds too, not just her clit. Her fingertips also graze her entrance, teasing herself.

Watching her from behind, you can see the muscles in her ass tense as she rocks her hips.

You give her forearm a soft caress, a deep contrast to how you're handling her.

"More pressure, princess. And fast."

You wonder how long will it take for her to loose it completely, for her to either plead you to pound into her or to come undone on her own fingers.

You decide to test her even further.

"Are you close, doll? Is my princess feeling needy for something else?" You coo, your arm moving fiercely, stroking your toy faster, finally meeting her own pace.

She nods, her bottom lip trembling as she whispers, "I'm... I am. I'm trying for you."

Her voice is so breathy, the words coming out quivering, barely above a whisper.

You arch one eyebrow, and for a moment you feel sorry for her. Not enough, though.

You pull your hips forward, tracing iddle patterns on her back with the tip of your cock.

"Trying what, gorgeous? I can't understand you when you whisper like that."

She stifles a moan, and even if she's visibly trembling, she still manages to push herself against your toy. "T-trying... not to..."

She mumbles and chokes a whimper when you slide your toy a little lower, walking it across her cheeks.

Her stammering makes you laugh softly, and she blushes and turns her head with her eyes closed. You look up, and by her expression you can tell she's both embarassed and excited by the way you're kinda mocking her.

"Oh, yeah? That close you are?" You purr, trailing lower.

She whimpers pathetically when she realizes you're not gonna slide the toy inside her stretched ass. Her reaction makes you bite your lip harshly, a primal need flooding in your veins.

She nods again.

"P-please... What do you need me to do? I can do it" she blurts out in a rushed whisper, her fingers moving frantically.

"N-need you s-so bad..." She hisses, "I'll do anything..."

You tilt your head, releasing a sharp gasp.

Oh, even in her current state, she knows how to push your buttons. She knows how to get what she wants.

She turns her head a bit more, the tendons in her neck tensing tantalazingly, and her parted plump lips let go tempting promises in hot whispers.

"Anything you want...."

"Haven't I been good...?"

"Whatever you need..."

"I wanna please you..."

Finally, you loose your patience.

"You're such a greedy girl, you know that?" You breath out, grabbing her hips firmly.

She gasps, her eyelids fluttering, wishing to open her eyes but still deliciously obedient to your orders.

"You just can't wait, can you? It has to be your way" you reach down to grab the base of the roy, your hand trembling as you place it on her entrance.

She arches her back immediately, giving you the perfect view of her ass up and pink folds spread and dripping. She's been ready for a while now.

She nods fervently. You didn't expect that. "Yes" she hisses, leaning against your chest a little, but still not touching you. "I'm so needy for you. I'm so sorry, I just can't bear it anymore."

You clench your jaw, your gaze hiding a smoldering raw desire.

You love this game. The back and forth, the tempting, the way you blame her as if it was her fault, as if you're about to use it because oh, look what she made you do, as if it was a way to show her who's in charge.

She's obsessed with it. She's addicted to following your orders like a docile, perfect patient girl, until her movements and words became so needy, so desperate, that she starts whispering these words to you, knowing that if she gently asks you to move forward, to hurry up a bit, she'll wake up the sleepy beast in you.

She's a sucker for the un-rushed, built up tension. She's grown really experienced in handling your commands that well, to follow your rhythm.

But she's also addicted to manipulate you with her husky, sexy voice; to suck a bit of your power and throw it back at you in the shape of her irresistible proposals.

"Open your eyes" you murmur.

She flutters her eyes open and looks at you over her shoulder. The mere sight of you makes her move her hand faster between her thighs. This makes her jolt, her body sensitive and needy.

Your gaze darts down, "and stop that" you say in a dry whisper.

She gasps and stops at the moment. Her lips are parted in awe, her eyebrows frown in pleasure and bliss, knowing something has shifted within you.

You clench your jaw, your gaze darkened and hard. Her eyes flicker between yours, the silent exchange being an unspoken question.

"You can do ir" she mutters before you can even formulate what you're trying to say.

She can see the deep, crude wish in your eyes. She can tell you're dying to ruin her. But she also can feel your brief doubt.

To highlight her words, she pushes her backside further, and whimpers hoarsly when the tip of your toy brushes her entrance more purposefully.

"Do it" she murmurs again, looking deep into your eyes. "Give it to me."

Her whisper turns into a sharp whine when you roughly shove the toy inside her, filling her completely.

"F—" she doesn't even have time to accomodate you before you start thrusting deep, thoroughful.

She reaches back one hand tangling it in your hair while the other squeezes your waist, and she pushes her hips back, meeting each of your thrusts.

You dig your nails into her flesh, dragging them along her skin, leaving red marks leading to her stomach.

You grope her midriff, breasts and back. You slide one hand to hold her by her neck, her moans vibrating against your fingertips as you bottom out, merciless.

Your other hand trails down until you reach her swollen, manhadled bundle of nerves, and you circle at it insistently.

She squirms, "Mmmph—" she mumbles, unable to even complain.

You can tell she's drowning in overstimulation, you can feel her body surrounding to every plunge of your hips, her inner walls clenching and unclenching around your cock, you can feel their tension when you push your pelvis against her cheeks.

She tilts her head back, resting it on your shoulder, and her body bounces and her breasts jiggle with each move, her lips parted and eyes half-lidded, taking you beautifully.

She glances at you through her eyelashes, deep trust and adoration glazing the watery deep brown stare.

The sight of her looking at you like this, wearing your hand around her neck like a collar, with her hands all over you, pulling you against her even more, with her body bouncing and writhling, dying from overstimulation but still craving more, drives you to the edge.

You slide your hand from her neck to the back of her head and push her forward, her forehead rests against the headboard and she arches her back, her hands clutching the edge of the headboard desperately.

Grabbing the back of her neck and with your other hand circling her clit, you rock your hips faster, harder, rougher.

"Mmph— ah— ah—!"

She moans and whines desperately, pleading, her mind foggy, eyes rolling back and eyebrows frowning.

She turns her head, pressing her cheek agaisnt the wood giving you a perfect view of her ravished state, thin drool coming out from the side of her lips, dripping down her chin.

You can't take it anymore. "Show off for me, princess" you groan between heavy breathing and sharp pants.

With her puffy lips twitching and swallowing your toy with eager willingness, her entire body convulses and she releases deep groans and high pitched wails as she finally lets go, coming hard.

With the dual stimulation of your hand on her clit and your cock insistently rubbing against her G-spot, she squirts profusely, her cum gushing out and coating the entire length of your toy while you continue sliding in and out of her, drawning out her orgasm.

"jesus fucking christ..." She whines with her voice trembling weakly as you finish against the toy, rolling your hips and using her just a little more to get off.

"ugh, fuck!" You groan and moan, releasing a final sigh before you crumble on her.

You both stay there for a moment, just panting heavily. She turns her head and meets your lips weakly, whimpering quietly against your mouth.

You let out a breathy chuckle, kissing her back. Even now, she stills needs you all over her.

She whines in return and wiggles her hips, silently reminding you to pull out.

"Oh, yeah" you murmur in a giggle, gently pulling back.

She nods and offers you a sated smole, and her eyelids flutter as she feels every inch coming out of her.

She loves it when your demeanor shifts after a scene and suddenly you turn into an almost shy, panting dom who treats her with care and love.

You lean back and look down, watching the toy come out of her.

Is in that moment when you notice her state.

Her cheeks are swollen and red, random marks all over them. You've left red lines all over her ass and back, and probably on her stomach.

She's literally dripping, a damp big spot tainting the sheets right below her.

You gasp, too much emotions mow you down like a tidal wave. You need a second to catch your breath.

Jenna was smiling, but she turns slightly to you, frowning as she tries to gauge your mindset.

"Baby...?" She murmurs warily.

You snap your eyes back at her, concerned. "Jenna" you breath out.

Her eyes drift across your face, now concerned. You calling her by her name instead of 'princess' lets her know that the scene is over, and your specific tone also lets her know something's off.

"What is it?"

But you feel your knees crumbling, your chest aching with a mix of emotions you can't quite comprehend.

Without saying a word, you let yourself fall on your knees onto the mattress, defeated.

She turns around completely, facing you. She puts her hand on your shoulder.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

Taglist: @ijustlovemaths @babyhumanoidpsychicnerd @ortegalvr @2thamax @oxt3n @aroooheartzzz @lailathegayqueeeen @freestarfishdinosaur @lightningirlz @bellward3456 @avaseye @christinaliner69 @dequiem @bbygrl008 @red1culous @bella423 @jennassamoanwife

[t0rn4d0273]

guess what au this is from- yep yeah you’re right asksonicverse

surprisingly *not* paraprism, instead it’s arthurlot (tehehehe) the gaes dance because I can also young arthurlot because they’re cute >:33

this sat in drafts for wayyyy to long lmao

dancing in the dark; you between my arms

(I came up with that title five second ago lol)

“Paradox is a benign young man.” Arthur commented, returning to Lancelot's side. “I'm sure he’ll be able to woo prism-” Arthur stopped, catching sight of Lancelot’s figure. Lance stood stiffly, quills raised and mouth in a thin, tight line of disapproval.

“My knight? Your quills are raised, are you alright?” arthur asked, the gears turning in his head as he quickly realized. “Wait… Sir Lancelot…” Arthur smiled mischievously, “Were you perhaps envious of paradox?”

“No, my king!” Lancelot stuttered, as Arthur lightly grabbed his arm.

“I think you were.” Arthur lightly teased, smiling at Lancelot's flustered face. “Come here.” Arthur chirped, dropping his hand down to meet Lancelot’s, pulling him into the same dance he had just been teaching arthur.

Stepping lightly to the left, the couple rocked back, pulling each other forward after a moment. Arthur raised his hands, allowing Lancelot to duck under them and spin him into a tight and loving back hug.

It reminded the two of their first dance together. Lancelot was 15, Arthur 14. Between vigorous training for their chosen paths, they always found time to see each other, from stolen glances through hallways and out windows to night hours snuck into the other's quarters.

That night, using their combined knowledge of the knight's schedule and the castle's halls, the two hedgehogs had snuck their way out of the castle and into a small forest clearing. The soft breeze played against the two hedgehogs' faces as they lay cuddled in the grass. Arthur carefully traced Lancelot's scar with one hand, admiring the beauty of both it and its person as Lancelot quietly looked up at the stars.

The comfort of the silence was broken as Arthur spoke. “I've been taking dance lessons for my coronation,” he smiled, sitting up properly for the first time in hours. ‘Would you care to dance with me?” Arthur asked excitedly.

Lancelot opened his eyes, a small smile appearing on his face. “Of course, my prince.”

Lance rose to his feet and offered his hands out for arthur. “I'll lead!” Arthur exclaimed, grabbing lances hands and starting explaining the dance. “First you’ll go like this.” Arthur demonstrated, sweeping the two of them to the left. “Then, we pull apart, come back together, and-” Arthur lifted his hands, spinning lancelot into his arms. It was difficult, as Lancelot was ever so slightly taller, but the prince made it work.

Spinning him back out, Arthur connected their hands again, instructing “now we repeat.”

The two continued their careful steps, slowly growing more and more confident with the dance.

Left, back, forward, spin.

Left, back, forward, spin.

Left, back forward, spin.

Lancelot finished the dance, spinning his boyfriend up into his arms. With a small “thank you” kiss, Lancelot picked up Arthur and carried him over to their small nest of blankets.

“You're still as beautiful as the first time we danced,” Arthur muttered, his head pressed up against Lancelot's chest as he worked the helmet off his head.

Lancelot curled his arms around Arthur as their two helmets were placed off to the side. “Thank you, my king.” He muttered, the beginnings of sleep already overtaking the two.

scared to tag you (apologizing again im sorry)-

@verizzafai

ALSO GO READ THE @asksonicverse BLOG ITS LIKE THE MOST EPICEST THINGBEVER IT HAS A STRANGLEHOLD ON MY BRAIN RN >:DDDD go read it 10/10

[edb954]

A Toast (Slightly Dark Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

(Summary: Y/n & Coriolanus have always loved each other but someone has always gotten in the way of you too.)

Masterlist : Request Info

Word Count: 1.4k

(A/n: I’ve been having this in my drafts for to long as well as many others.. but I’ve had this idea for way too long! Sorry if it’s a mess but let me know if y’all want a part 2!!)

(Warnings!: ANGST ANGST ANGST! Heartbreak, Livia being a b¡tch, Lucy Gray mentioned, Slightly Dark Coriolanus Snow!)

"A toast to Emily.. Always the bridesmaid, Never The Bride..."

~~~~

You didn't know why you were here at Coriolanus wedding.. a wedding to Livia Cardew of all people. You couldn't believe what he said to you that night you had found out about the engagement.

~~~~

"Y-your what..." Y/n said, looking at Coriolanus. Hurt and confusion filled your eyes.

"Look I know it's out of the blue." He said, reaching out to her. She moved away feeling her heart start to break. "But I'm doing this for a reason.. n/n-"

"Don't.. just don't.." Y/n said putting her hand up to stop him.

"I-I have to go.." She said getting up and grabbing her coat and purse. Coriolanus looked at her confused.

"What?" Coriolanus asked before grabbing her arm.

"Let go Corio..." "Why are leaving like this?"

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Before turning to look at him tears filling her eyes.

"You're getting married Coriolanus." He winced a bit at her using his full name. "And I'm not going to be your mistress or the other woman or whatever this between us has been about!"

"N/n you know Livia means nothing to me.." Coriolanus said. She gave a look.

"Then why marry her? Because of her money?" Y/n asked, Coriolanus looked away. "Oh my god. That's it isn't it? It's just another way for you to get more ... power.."

"T-that's why it'll never be me.." Y/n whispered as the realisation she'd been avoiding for so long hit her full on. Coriolanus looked at her, hearing her words.

"Y-" "No! g-get off me.." She spat pushing him off her and he tried to grab her again but wasn't fast enough as she made a dash to the door and left leaving him alone.

~~~

The realisation she had finally faced that night shook her to the core. She'd known. Of course she'd known. How could she not? He would never go for her he'd pick someone higher more powerful with money or someone lower... but beautiful and talented something she wasn't.. something she never will be.. like Lucy Gray Baird.

The girl he had mentored and helped during the 10th anual Hunger Games and followed her to District 12 after getting caught cheating in the games as a peacekeeper.

~~~

"W-what?" Y/n whispered in disbelief. Sitting up in her bed as Coriolanus had just climbed up to your bedroom from the fire escape.

"I cheated in the games their sending me to 12 as a Peacekeeper.." He spoke. She knew he was lying.

"You're following her aren't you." She whispered. He looked at you confused and a mixture of shock and guilt. "I.. Dean Highbottom told me that you were getting sent to 8.. he didn't tell me why.."

His jaw clenched as he tried to reach out to her but she pulled away and looking away as tears formed.

"H-how long?" She asked.. he looked at her with an unreadable expression."20 years.."

She nodded wiping away her tears and sniffing. "Maybe.. it's for the best.."

Coriolanus froze at her words. Wondering what the hell she meant by that. It made him feel angry hurt confused.. numb.. he could tell she was crying.

"I-I think you should go.. Coriolanus.."

He winced at her using his full name the girl that he'd known for years always by his side. Now feeling impossibly far away even when she's right here next to him.

Y/n swallowed thickly before speaking.

"Tell Lucy Gray I'm happy she's alright.."

With that he gave her one last look before leaving back out her window as she finally let out a choked sob as her heart broke.

~~~~~

When she saw him at her front door only months later she didn't know what to do or say but he pulled her into a kiss telling her he was stupid for picking a low life District girl over you.

You met up with him or well he'd turn up at your apartment to talk or in the simplest terms to fuck. He was your first love, first kiss, first time. Of course a greed selfish man like him would take all of your most important firsts. At this point you were jealous of Lucy Gray for getting away from him. Whether she ran up north like Coriolanus told her or if she was dead.

Now here you were standing alongside of guests in an offset purple dress at his wedding to Livia Cardew. Feeling his gaze almost all night with Tigris next to you giving you a sad almost pitiful look.

"I was really hoping that it would be you.." Tigris whispered to you in hushed voice. You gave her a small sad smile back. Before looking to the direction where a glass was being clinked as everyone turned the way to see the devil herself Livia Cardew clinking her glass with a spoon. Raising her glass with a sly smile.

"Hello I'm Livia Cardew- well now Snow." Livia started a speech earning a few laughs from the crowd and a slight scoff from Coriolanus.

"I'd like to make this toast in thanking you all for coming to my-our big day! It's means so much to Coriolanus and I that you are all here!" She earned a few appreciation points from the crowd.

"Oh, I almost forgot! A Toast to Y/n Always the second choice. Never the first!" Livia Cardew Toasted, her speech made some gasp and others laugh.

  Y/n froze in her spot as the reality of the unknown truth in Livia's speech. And before she knew it tears start to perk up into her eyes.

Coriolanus looked at Livia in shock and anger. His eyes drifted to yours. You stood their hurt, shocked once reality set in you saw almost if not everyones eyes on you and the last thing you saw was Livia Cardew smirking at you. After, that you moved your way through the crowd tears slowly falling from your eyes as people laughed and made comments.  After snapping at Livia and having her bridesmaids go after her Coriolanus got up to go after you and Tigris grabbed his arm.

"I think you've done enough Coriolanus.." Tigris said but Coriolanus didn't listen as he tried to get through the crowd.

  The last thing you heard before you exited was the sound of a bright flash. Sure enough everything will be on the front page of the prophet and you were right.

~~~

  The next morning, your face was on the front page of the prophet. Headline saying ‘Chaos at Future Presidents Snows wedding. Y/n Reinswood at the center of it? (Read page 294 for more details!)

Y/n rolled her eyes as she threw it in the her trash can before going back to lay down in her bed curled up into a ball. Thinking about last night.

She knew Livia wasn’t wrong. She was in fact right. Y/n Lyn Reinswood was and will forever be the second choice, Especially when it came to Coriolanus Snow. Remembering last night made it hurt more.

~~~

Y/n rushed to her apartment closing the door with a slight bang. Where she finally let all the tears and sobs escape her lips. Her heart shattered in a million pieces. Feelings of heart ache and embarrassment. She had decided then to move somewhere he wouldn’t find her or care to look.

After what felt like hours, her tears had dried and breathing had calmed she heard a frantic knock on her door. Y/n sighed getting up figuring and hoping it was just Tigris coming to check on her.

“N/n. Please.” She froze in her spot hearing Coriolanus voice on the other side of the door. “Please.. open the door..”

Y/n put a hand on her mouth going to the floor as she let out muffled sobs he kept almost but practically begging for her to open the door. Coriolanus was many things but he was never a begger.

He didn’t know how long he stayed out there for pleading for her to let him in. Y/n was the only thing he had left and because of power once again he had lost you. His own foolish antics. And Livia Cardew how could he be so dimwitted in that decision.. he wasn’t going to let her go not like the songbird from 12. No… not her..

Was it love? Or obsession? Or fear of losing her that made him feel this way. That he kept crawling back to her. He wasn’t sure but he wasn’t ready to let her go all he needed now was to get rid of Livia..

[lokisknife]

Golden Girl - John Price

Summary: In a London club alive with the victory celebrations of Task Force 141, Captain Price just wants a night free from formality and the weight of war. But amidst the revelry, a new kind of tension emerges as his attention fixates on his newest sniper, Y/N, his "Golden Girl". Battling thoughts he knows are inappropriate due to his age and rank, Price finds himself drawn to her in a way that defies duty. pulling towards something undeniably "risky. And wrong. And so, so tempting".

Warnings: not sticking to the canon; age difference (do I really have to say everyone is an adult here? we're talking about the military, helloooo); heavy drinking; implied size kink; implied corruption kink (just a little bit!).

Word count: 2.3k~ish

Author's note: ok, this has been sitting on my drafts for quite literally more than a year. this month sucked, my pet died, high stress at the job, high stress at uni and I've been hospitalized with a kidney infection (plz drink water and pee after sex. i beg you). I'm too scared of writing actual smut, and I wanted to post this finally, so... sorry if this is too short. I don't think anyone is going to read this lol is cod hype even a thing anymore?

It’s a typical Friday night in London. To the civilians, at least. The club is buzzing with life, with groups of all sizes chatting and laughing, drinks being spilled by drunk people on the dance floor while the colored lights keep flickering. Red, blue, red, blue, purple. The unusual thing about tonight is that the club is packed with soldiers —they aren’t spotted by their uniform, no, they are all dressed to the occasion, thank you very much. But they are spotted, instead, by their demeanor: loud, expansive, with a certain arrogance to know that they can celebrate as hard as they want because they deserve it. Their drunken grins showed a type of euphoria you could only feel if you had just won the war. And that is precisely what happened.

The infamous Task Force 141, with the help of Los Vaqueros and the Shadow Company, spent thirteen months of non-stop hard work completely annihilating a major terrorist group that presented an international threat. Unfortunately, as part of the job, the soldiers' stress levels only grew in proportion to the way the dangerous organization crumbled to ashes: all of them, by some months of work, presented stiff muscles, dark underbags, and snappy responses. And Captain Price was a traditional man: was there a way of de-stressing better than drinking your body weight in alcohol and shit-talking with your friends? He didn’t think so. His boys deserved a little fun; they did an excellent job under his command. So, order everything you want on his tab.

And there she was, the Captain’s Golden Girl, basking in the energetic booming music that made the concrete floors shake. Being the newest one on the team, she earned the nickname from her teammates, who always found a way to tease her about the non-subtle preference of the older man for his newest sniper. Innocently, Y/N thought it was a consequence of her professionalism: she was reliable and precise, always following her superior’s orders without any hesitation, and her accuracy with her rifle was impressive. She was very proud of it, always biting back a grin when the Brit called her “my golden girl”, so, of course, her friends wouldn’t dare burst her bubble. After years under his wing, they knew the bastard too damn well to know that his acts of endearment to the rookie were very far off from the paternalistic proudness Price felt towards the rest of the Task Force. Especially when his drunken state can’t take his eyes off her, sitting so pretty on the other side of the table. 

“We’re off duty, so we better act like we’re off duty” was Price’s motto for the night. After the stresses of the battlefield, he only longed for a night out with his friends, and not an awkward happy hour with coworkers. So, not only was it mandatory to boast all you want, it was essential to leave all the formalities back at the compound: for tonight, at least, there were no ranks, no dog tags, and no uniforms. Wanting to impress someone (even though he said to himself that he shouldn’t), he dressed nicely: before stepping out, he spent an embarrassingly long time perfecting his beard and applying cologne, kicking himself for caring too much. He really shouldn’t; it’s not right.

Staring at the girl in front of him, taking in her mini-skirt and the top that enhanced every single one of her curves, he forced himself to think about how he was too old for her, and not how the clothing would look scattered on his floor. Analyzing the way she did her make-up to perfection, he repeated “I’m her boss” like a mantra, instead of focusing on how incredibly plush her lips look with that shiny lip gloss.

Price is pulled out of his thoughts as shot glasses are slammed down on the hardwood table, followed by the sound of tipsy giggles. As Soap pulled a disgusted face at the burning taste of the tequila, Y/N wiped her chin from any remnants of spilled alcohol. Unaware of the glances coming from the other side of the table, she watched the banter that was initiated between the Scotsman and Alejandro at her side. 

The Captain shouldn’t be so enticed by his snipper, and God, he tried to convince himself he didn’t feel a thing. She is pretty, he has eyes, and he is lonely, simple as that. But he couldn’t attribute the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach to all the whiskey he had downed, not when it only started when he paid attention to the scene in front of his eyes. He felt like a possessive dog, watching her laugh loudly at one of the Soap’s jokes, and the sweet cadence of the sound reached his ears above the music he didn’t recognize. MacTavish was a funny guy, Price gets it. He would laugh just as loud at the humorous remark if he weren’t so stuck in his head. His fingers turned white as he gripped his cup, gulping his drink away. He should be the one sitting so close to Y/N, making her laugh so hard her eyes crinkle. Not Soap. Not anyone else. She is his golden girl, what the fuck do they know about her?

“I’ll be heading towards the bar, have another round” Price spoke up, almost mumbling to himself.

He needed another one, that’s for sure. Whatever it takes to endure the sight of her flirting with other men. But was she actually flirting, or was his mind playing tricks? Could he know that with one hundred percent certainty?

The only thing clear in his wounded heart is that he ached for her attention. It was clear from day one when his golden girl skipped into his office lighting the dark space with her bright smile. Taking notice of her joyful personality, he remembers he thought how the job would ruin her. He was wrong: she ruined him. He turned soft; he was a 37-year-old man who blushed like a teenager whenever he made an excuse to talk to Y/N. It was embarrassing.

The loud music and the intoxicated state of his mind didn't allow Price's well-trained ears to catch the following footsteps, trailing behind in the direction of the bar. Sitting on the wonky bar stool, kicking at himself for letting inappropriate feelings ruin the night, his breath hitched when he finally noticed her small figure at his side. Y/N's hand, much smaller than his, gently grazed his biceps to catch the Captain's attention. Looking up at him with pupils so dilated he could barely see the color of the irises, she smiled innocently. What he wouldn't give to ruin that pure, sinless expression...

"Just checking up on ya. You are oddly quiet, are you okay?”. Her grin was like that of a Cheshire cat under the flickering lights. The snipper kept her palm on his tense muscles for three, four, five seconds before resting it under the chin. It was enough time to make his body feel like it had been electrified, and his heart was hammering so loudly you could hear it above the music. She had to know his effects on him; it could only be on purpose. It couldn't be just a simple, thoughtless act.

"I'm fine. My mind is just... on other things." He trails off, gulping as her skirt rolls up to reveal more of her legs as she sits at his side. It moved barely an inch, but the sight of her glistening thighs was like a full meal to the starved man John Price was. Especially when his thoughts started to become more and more unfiltered with each drink.

"Thinking about what?" Y/N urges innocently, tilting her head to the side and unconsciously exposing some of her neck. The soldier looked genuinely concerned about his mental state, but her captain could only think about covering the smooth, delicate skin with hickeys until the whole team recognized his ownership.

Price shakes his head slightly, trying to drown these thoughts. He felt dirty. And drunk.

"I shouldn't be thinking about you this way..." he snickers, turning his head to the front and drinking some sips of whisky. It's almost as if he didn't notice it was said out loud.

"This way?" She arches a brow, tilting her head again. Again, with those adorable puppy eyes, with that sweet perfume that urged the man to bend her over that very same pub counter, and– And then she leans closer, apparently to hear him better. An innocent act, as innocent as her, he tries to convince himself. "What way?"

No, she must know her effects on him. His mind is taken over by images of how Y/N would look with her eyes rolled all the way back while he pounded relentlessly into her. His body feels mostly numb, as if all of his blood went straight to his crotch. Trying to look away and calm down, he catches her gaze sparkling with mischief, bottom lip caught between teeth.

Shit.

"You know what that way means" Price's eyes trailed down, meeting her cleavage with dilated pupils. It almost made him uncomfortable, the situation looking too good to be true. A beautiful piece of forbidden fruit, taunting him to make a foolish mistake. She couldn't be possibly offering herself on a silver platter like this, not to him of all people. He blurts out, before gulping another sip of the glass "You are too young for me. And I'm still your commanding officer".

"What? I didn't say anything, Captain," She purrs, feigning the purity of her intentions once again. Smiling, she snakes her hand down to his, gently pulling him out of the stool. "C'mon, Price. We are off duty, so we better act like we're off duty, right? Give me a dance".

John could stop Y/N if he really wanted, but he let himself get led to the crowded dance floor, holding her soft hands in his rough ones. He wasn't a religious man, not at all, especially after all the horrors he saw in his line of work. But right now, he makes a mental note to thank God later as the DJ stops playing the hyper techno music he didn't like to give place instead to a slow, 90's R&B, he could recognize the low bass anywhere. The Captain watched with glee as his favorite girl closed her eyes and smiled widely as she sang along to his favorite lyrics. Five minutes ago, he would have told you a whole different answer to what his favorite music is, but the sight in front of him changed everything.

The brief wholesomeness of the moment quickly shifted as Y/N placed her hands on his broad shoulders, swaying her hips easily to the bass of the music, smiling up at him. Now, John recognizes it under the bright red lights: her smile is far from sweet and innocent, but tempting like the devil up on your shoulder that whispers the sweetest and wicked ideas in your ears. With that mischievous sparkle in her eyes, what was the point of fighting?

He was off duty. For one night, he wasn't anybody's boss.

So fuck it. Right?

Price can't bite back the lustful smirk stretching his lips as he finally grabs Y/N's hips and pulls her closer the moment she turns her back on him. The act doesn't scare her at all like she acted in Price's most lucid daydreams. No, in fact, the woman pushes her dancing hips against his, looking up at his icy eyes above her uncovered shoulder.

"Took you long enough" Y/N teased over the loud music, running a rosy tongue tip over the bottom lip. One hand traveled to rest on top of the one that gripped with strength the skirt's waistband, while the other moved back to his broad shoulders, incredibly tense to someone at the club. Price chuckled, not believing his ears.

"Took me long enough? Don't you know I work above you, you little rascal?" The captain teased right back, tilting his head down to speak right into her ear, the feel of his beard tickling the sensitive skin enough to give goosebumps, even with the heat of the night.

"Ah, c'mon, Price. I've seen you. How you look at me, always pairing us both together on missions, even if Gaz would be way more useful to you most of the time" She laughed, almost quietly, the mischievous smile plastered on that cute little face of hers. Following the music with a slow, calculated swing of hips against his crotch, she added. "I think you want to be above me in other ways, am I wrong?"

Goddammit, that was risky. And wrong. And so, so tempting.

Price sighed, his tongue pressing on the side of his cheek, looking baffled with himself. Accessing what was left of the captain inside of him, in this inebriated state, the Brit scanned the room, searching for any pair of familiar eyes on him, but instead, found his table full-on bantering about football or something that looked completely stupid and meaningless right now. This, and the crack of light coming from the back door of the club, leading to an alley that hardly gets any attention this time of night.

"What a witty little thing," John whispered in Y/S's ear, hot alcoholically breath fanning over her skin. One large hand rested beautifully on her waist, pressed back, forcing her to feel how hot his body was burning, how tight his denim probably felt now at this state. How desperate, how much he fantasized about something like this happening to him. "So clever... Let me see how sharp that tongue really is, hm?"

[spr1ngbunnypvrin]

WARNING: This post may be edited and some opinions/perspectives may be changed because this thing has been sitting in my draft for a long time, and now my ass finally decided to post it. This is just a silly post about William x reader and something more than that.

William might have abandoned that perfect businessman persona, but it doesn't mean he's completely erased it from his mind. It lingers—like a ghost, a fragment of something that was never real to begin with, yet somehow feels more real than the hollow existence he now leads.

Sometimes William—whether consciously or unconsciously—misses the person he used to be, or at least the image of who he once was.

Or worse, the image of who he pretended to be.

Because that version of himself—the brilliant, ambitious businessman, the man who could captivate an entire room with his presence—was a carefully curated illusion.

A mask. One he wore so well that sometimes even he believed in it. And now? Now it’s nothing more than a distant memory. A ghost lingering at the edges of his mind.

And sometimes, when he's lost in thought—when exhaustion pulls him under in the quiet hours of the night, when his mind drifts without his permission—he sees that version of himself again.

A vague reflection.

A shadow of his former self, still standing tall in the back of his mind.

That charming, theatrical, brilliant man. The one who could command a room with a well-placed smile, who spoke in carefully measured words, whose presence alone was magnetic.

And the worst part? That version of him laughs.

Standing in the shadows. Smiling. Mocking.

"Look at you now."

"What a disappointment."

"You used to be something, to have ambition, didn’t you? Used to build something... an empire. Used to inspire fear, respected and admiration all the same. But now? Just some bitter, washed-up man playing pretend in the filth."

William doesn’t reply. He doesn’t try to fight it. Because the voice in his head isn’t wrong.

Maybe sometimes—just for a fleeting second—he misses that man. Misses the power. Misses the control. Misses the thrill of being at the top, of playing a game where everyone else was just a pawn on his board.

That version of himself, that mask he once wore so well. Maybe there’s an ache, an echo of what it felt like to be on top before everything came crumbling down. But he doesn’t let himself dwell.

But then he reminds himself—it was never real.

Because he knows, deep down, that man never really existed in the first place.

That version of him, it never truly existed. It was just another lie, another role he played. And now, stripped of everything, he no longer has the energy to pretend.

So he tells himself it doesn’t matter.

And yet, in the quiet, when no one is around to see—he still hears the laughter of a man he no longer is.

HEARR ME OUT AGAIN... I think he still has that annoying smirk like his old self but looks more tired, as quoted in the novel The Silver Eyes "...the man in the picture was sallow and thin, his expression unpleasant, as if he had forgotten how to smile. He looked like a poor facsimile of himself. Or maybe, Clay thought, he looked like he had dropped his disguise."

That smirk—the one that used to be so sharp, so effortless, so full of controlled confidence— it's still there. But it’s different now.

Once, it was a carefully crafted tool, a practiced expression meant to intimidate, charm, or unsettle. It was never just a smirk—it was a weapon.

Now?

Now, it's tired. It lingers for a second too long, like muscle memory rather than intent. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, doesn’t carry the same weight it once did.

It’s the ghost of what it used to be.

And those silver eyes of his? Once, they were piercing—calculating, watching everything, always five steps ahead. Now, they look... hollow.

Not empty, but worn. Like the shine has dulled, like the years have finally caught up to him, like the man he once was is still standing there but draped in something much heavier.

And maybe—just maybe—Clay was right.

Maybe this is the real him.

Or maybe this is just what’s left.

The worst part isn’t just that it was a mask—it’s that it was a mask he desperately wanted to make real.

At some point, William truly wanted to become that man. The ambitious businessman. The genius innovator. The one who built something lasting, something greater than himself. He had a vision, a goal, and he pushed everything—everyone—aside in his relentless pursuit of it.

But the downfall? That was inevitable.

All the power, all the control, all the success—it was all built on a crumbling foundation. A house of cards, stacked too high, too fragile to last. And when it finally came crashing down, so did he.

Now, as Dave Miller, he’s free.

No expectations. No burdens. No empire to maintain, no legacy to uphold. He’s just a washed-up man in a dead-end job, a ghost living under a borrowed name.

And yet—this freedom is its own prison.

Because “Dave Miller” isn’t real either. He’s just another escape. Another way to avoid facing the wreckage of what he’s done, what he’s lost, what he’s become.

It’s pathetic. He knows it’s pathetic. He’s no longer powerful, no longer feared, no longer the man he once aspired to be.

And worst of all?

Deep down, some part of him knows he’s still running.

And oh, he absolutely does slip into that old persona sometimes.

It's rare, but there are moments when the old William Afton—the smooth, theatrical, charming bastard—peeks through Dave Miller’s tired, deadpan exterior. He doesn’t do it intentionally; it just happens. Maybe it’s instinct, maybe it’s habit, maybe it’s something deeper—something that never really left him.

If you hit him with a question that’s too personal—something about his past, something that makes him uncomfortable—his first instinct is to cover it up. And what better way to do that than slipping back into that perfectly rehearsed mask of old William Afton?

"Oh, darling, you wound me. Here I thought we were just two souls passing through this dreadful existence together, and now you’re prying into my tragic backstory?”

It’s all flourish, exaggerated theatrics meant to make you roll your eyes and move on. But the way he delivers it? It’s too smooth, too natural. That’s not Dave Miller talking. That’s someone else entirely.

And if you don’t let it slide? If you press him on it?

The act drops immediately. His expression hardens, his voice flattens, and suddenly, it’s Dave again.

"Tch. Forget it."

Dave always has a sharp tongue, but when he’s in a particularly good (or mischievous) mood, he gets theatrical. He leans into it, slipping into that old, showman-like charisma without even realizing it.

"Oh, come now, love, surely you don’t expect me to do actual work today? Have a heart—what would the world do without my undeniable charm to brighten this miserable place?”

Or if he’s winning an argument with you? Oh, he gets cocky.

"You see, my dear, this is why I’m the brains of our little operation. But don’t worry—I’ll allow you to bask in my brilliance from time to time.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye, something smug yet genuinely amused, as if, for a moment, he forgets himself. And when he realizes what he’s doing? He shuts it down immediately. A scoff, a roll of his eyes, a grumbled, “Yeah, whatever.” But for a second? He was someone else.

It’s one of those late shifts. The kind where everything is quiet, the two of you stuck in some mundane task—maybe fixing something, maybe just sitting around waiting for the night to end.

And then, somehow, you make him laugh.

Not a scoff, not a sarcastic chuckle—a real laugh.

And just for a moment—just for a second—he leans back, throws his hands up, and becomes that man again.

"Ah, see? That’s why I keep you around. Well, that and I do so enjoy our little chats—your company is just so... riveting.”

The ease, the smoothness, the dramatic tilt of his voice—it all slips back into place so effortlessly. Too effortlessly.

And then he catches himself. His expression stiffens, his smirk fades, and just like that, Dave Miller is back.

"Forget I said anything."

Old William Afton was a man who could control a room, who could make people listen, who could intimidate without ever raising his voice. And when Dave gets truly, truly angry? That version of him resurfaces in full force.

Gone is the sluggish, indifferent demeanor. Suddenly, his words are sharp. Cold. Precise. His voice carries weight—real weight, like he’s used to being listened to.

"You really don’t want to test me right now."

The way he carries himself changes, too. He doesn’t slump, doesn’t drag his feet—he stands taller, shoulders squared, like he’s reclaiming some part of himself he thought was long gone.

And then, once the anger fades, he hates it. Because it reminds him of who he used to be—who he tried so hard to bury.

And if you notice? If you point out that something about him felt different in that moment?

He just mutters, “Drop it.”

Maybe moment when he lets his guard down (and doesn’t realize it until it’s too late)..There are nights when the weight of everything—the past, the present, the suffocating monotony of what his life has become—settles too heavily on his shoulders.

And those are the nights when, without thinking, he slips back into old habits.

Maybe it’s the way he talks to you—smoother, more confident. Maybe it’s the way he gestures—more expressive, more like the man he once pretended to be. Maybe it’s the way his voice softens—less snide, less bitter, almost... wistful.

And then, suddenly, he realizes.

Realizes he’s talking too much. Being too open. Sounding too much like him.

And just like that—the walls go back up.

"Never mind. Forget it."

And that’s the thing about Dave Miller.

No matter how much he tries to kill the ghost of who he was, sometimes, that ghost refuses to stay buried.

It's funny and ironic, he doesn’t need to "try" to be William Afton. He just is. After all

No matter how much he slouches, how much he tries to act detached, how much he plays up the tired, cynical employee act—that theatrical flair, that controlled charisma, that sharp intelligence—it never really leaves him. It’s in the way he smirks like he’s always one step ahead. The way he speaks—dry, sardonic, but always with a deliberate choice of words. The way his eyes hold something knowing, something calculating, even when he looks bored out of his mind.

He’s not "pretending" to be Dave Miller. He’s hiding as Dave Miller.

And the funniest part? Even when he stops trying so hard to be someone else, he’s still very much William Afton underneath.

As I mentioned earlier in the section above, the voices, the memories, the thoughts in his head that he has to go through, avoid, or confront...

But what if that voice didn’t just mock him about his downfall?

What if, one day, as he's lost in thought—staring blankly at his reflection, slumped at his usual spot—the voice sneers at something else entirely?

"You care too much."

"Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"Tell me, William—what exactly do you think you’re doing? You were never meant to care. They should have been nothing more than a means to an end. A pawn. A tool. And yet, here you are, fretting over them like some softhearted fool. It's almost... adorable. Almost."

He doesn’t answer. Because he doesn’t need to.

Because, deep down, he knows.

Knows that you were never supposed to mean anything. That you were supposed to be just another disposable person in his life, someone he could manipulate if needed, someone he should’ve discarded the moment you got too close.

And yet—you’re still here.

And worse? He lets you be.

Why?

Is it just convenience? No, it can't be that simple. Something keeps him from pushing you away. Something in the way you challenge him, in the way you aren't afraid to push back, in the way you aren’t fooled by the mask—but still stay anyway.

And isn’t that the most dangerous thing of all?

Because if there’s one rule William Afton has always lived by, one truth that even his ghosts can’t deny—

Attachment is a weakness.

And yet, somehow, you’ve become an exception.

Perhaps, one day, one day... One day he will have to choose between two paths: Staying with you, letting go of the past, everything he has tried to build, and becoming a "new" person who is no longer "William Afton"...The second is to return to the "old path": the bitterness, suffering, jealousy, and lingering hatred trapped in a loop, continuing the path he aspires to become the "thing" he desires.

This is the kind of choice that William Afto—no, Dave Miller—would never want to confront. But eventually, he will. And when he does?

He will hesitate.

For the first time in a long, long time, he will hesitate. Because the two paths before him are not just choices—they are condemnations. No matter which one he picks, he loses something.

The First Path: Staying With You, Letting Go of William Afton

To stay with you would mean to let go.

Not just of his past, but of everything he has built. The schemes, the power, the carefully constructed empire of control and manipulation. It would mean giving up William Afton entirely—becoming something else. Someone else. No longer the man he has always been, but a man who is simply… lost.

And that terrifies him.

Because if he strips away the ambition, the vengeance, the carefully cultivated identity… what is left?

Would you still want him if he was just a man and not a monster? Would he even know how to be a person, rather than a shadow of what once was? Could he live with the weight of everything he’s done if he stopped running from it?

Could he forgive himself?

Would you forgive him?

…And worse: Would he even deserve it?

The Second Path: Returning to His Old Ways

To go back means safety. Not peace, but familiarity.

He knows how to be William Afton. He knows how to be cruel, cunning, relentless. It’s easier to keep chasing ghosts, to sink into that obsession, to let himself drown in the bitterness of what he lost and what he still craves. Hate and agony is a fire that keeps him warm, after all.

But if he walks that road again, he knows he’ll lose you.

And that thought stings more than it should.

Because you are the one thing in this world that has genuinely, truly seen him—and somehow, despite everything, despite knowing who he is (or at least, the pieces he’s let you see)… you are still here.

And if he lets you go, if he throws you away like he’s thrown everything else away, if he kills that last ember of something real—

Then maybe even he won’t be able to recognize himself anymore.

So What Would He Do?

William Afton is a man of patterns. Cycles. Loops.

But Dave Miller? Dave Miller is tired.

There’s a part of him—a very small part, buried deep beneath all the cynicism, the exhaustion, the self-destruction—that wants to believe he could stay. That he could carve out something different for himself, that maybe, just maybe, there’s still a way out.

But does he believe in that enough?

Or will he take the easier road?

The choice is his.

And for the first time in a long time—

He doesn’t know what he’ll do.

Art credit: @ explosivepearl on Twt/Tumblr/Ins (I don't know, but I like William des in that artist's art style. The devil in me says it's canon, and yes, I believe it!)

No shit, I write a long essay like this is just because of a fanart that keeps lingering in my mind and gives me a thought, I like "digging up" the characteristics of this character, the Novel William Afton ver will always be my favorite ESPECIALLY TSE ONE idc what yall say, its fucking peak asf 💖💖💖 and damn it's really interesting when I can explore and interpret him as if I'm using a microscope, looking into what his brain is like....

William/Dave has something more than that, though his presence is scarce, what he leaves behind, his monologues, thoughts, and actions, are enough to significantly impact the story later on.

[luxury-nightmare]

Paul fic for sitcomiversy!

inspired by @gravemations this has been sitting in my drafts for way to long

This was a bad idea.

Paul knew that as he turned the corner, the large steel doors of room 66 looming over him like some beasts jaws. The music was louder here, almost drowning out the patients screams with its strangely beautiful cacophony. To any other employee, this would be a dead end, another odd design feature of the asylum they weren’t payed enough to care about. To a patient, this door would be the gates of hell itself.

Paul had been like them once, if what the doctor said was true. It had to be.

He had been sick, velidgun attack. Probably the reason his memories were so wonky from before the asylum. He had recovered and was given this job to pay off his medical bills.

No matter how hard he worked, he had never seemed to make a dent in them

He gritted his teeth (what teeth? I’m rotting under your shell) as he pushed the door open slowly, the metal sharp and angular underneath his gloves. The creaking noises filled the corridor, and he flinched.

Whenever he needed to get into this room, usually to drag some poor patient away with his fellow caretakers (did he know any of their names? Did they have names? Of course they did, everyone had names) the door was opened by someone unknown mechanics. The only sounds then were the smooth whir of the door hinges and the poor saps screams.

It didn’t matter, he was in, and about to do something very stupid

————————————————

They stirred from their uneasy sleep by the sound of the door creaking open. They turned to the door, the tiniest sliver opened, as a caretaker slipped into their prison, closing the door behind him carefully.

He turned to them, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m doing this” he muttered, before continuing, “Lankmann’s been doxxing my pay recently, and every time I complain to him about it he’s about as receptive as a brick wall.”

They cocked their head in confusion. What was this suppose to be? Was the asylum trying to lower their defenses so they’ll slip up and reveal where their partner was? Six knows he had used some odd tactics to get information out of them sometimes. The caretaker continued, the words seeming to spilling out of them like a waterfall.

“Lord knows I’ve not been the only one on the receiving end of a pay cut, Dr. Swan has made her complaints very known, and the animator’s been overworked as all hell, poor guy.” He seemed to roll his eyes under the mask “Turn around and barely pay your employees but bribe the entire police force for a manhunt against Specimen 01 and Alex-Alex Willams”

He seemed to choke on that last name, like saying it caused him physical pain. No, that wasn’t quite it.

It sounded like he was trying to cry.

“My hours have been increasing recently too. I barely leave the asylum now. I think I sleep here” he sounded, unsure of that fact. “And now here I am, talking to a man eating monster we keep in our basement”

He seemed to take a shaky breath, and the spell broke. “Fuck, what am I even doing here” he turned back to the doors.

“We both know I’m not the monster here” They muttered, and the caretaker turned around abruptly, like he was confused that they could speak, not just parroting words from their past victims.

He left quickly, leaving them to their silence.

He was back the next day.

[aquaregiaart]

Haleth & Caranthir.

[gildui]

soap, price, ghost at some point in their lives. not gaz bc he actually has a sense of style.

[nohr-selphias]

"I love you, Zevran. I hope you know that."

"Yes... Yes, I know that."

— commission art by @sinizade, posted with permission

[rafey-baby]

hidden 2

outlaw!rafe x pogue!reader

c/w: hostage/stockholm syndrome situation, rafe getting injured & reluctantly letting her clean him up, slightly suggestive, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

hope u enjoy xx

series masterlist

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

It’s past midnight and Rafe is driving over the speed-limit— he said something about handling business and then more or less shoved her into the passenger seat of his truck before she even had the chance to open her mouth.  

The island sky is as dusky as the bottom of the ocean while he races through the soundless highway that reminds her of the yellow brick road; never-ending and with no certainty of what’s looming at the finish line. 

She’s sits silently, because even if she was curious as to where exactly they were headed to, she’s well aware that he wouldn’t tell her if she asked— which is why she merely lets her heavy lids flutter shut to the lullaby of the wind picking up outside the vehicle, so exhausted she falls asleep within minutes. Therefore, she’s not sure how much time has passed before she’s jostled awake to the sound of him turning off the engine in an empty parking lot. 

“Don’t even think about openin’ the door, alright?” a heavy warning lingers in his tone while he tucks his gun into the waistband of his pants and grabs a thick wad of cash from the glove compartment.  

She hums her acknowledgment, watching his actions with wandering eyes filled with questions. However, he merely offers her a brief glance before he’s throwing open the door and disappearing into the eerily serene night— leaving her alone in the dimly lit space with her nervous inhales the only thing keeping her company.  

The moment he’s gone, she tries to peer through the window, squinting in order to see where he’s run off to. However, the faint glow of the street lamps provides little to no help, which makes her tap her nails against the center console; impatiently waiting for him to return. Then, she attempts to press her ear to the window, but unfortunately no sounds other than the leaves in the trees surrounding the area reach her eardrums.  

She sighs. What if something happens? 

Realistically, she knows he doesn’t need her to worry about him but she can’t help it; no matter how terrible of a person he is, she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. Because at the end of the day, she’s not a carefully programmed robot entirely void of human emotions, is she?

The mellow memory of him reluctantly attempting to soothe her after her outburst the other day still lingers at the forefront of her mind— turning her initial thoughts about him into something softer. After all, she was certain he was going to kill her when she threatened him with his gun. However, he seemed almost entertained by her stupid bravery, opting to mock her instead of showing a single ounce of actual fear.

And she doesn’t know why, but there’s this peculiar flutter in her stomach whenever her brain decides to mull over the moment of him wrapping his big arms around her shaky form in an almost gentle manner. She wants to forget about it, wants to push it aside and simply despise him for forcing her to help him, but she can’t— can’t help the fact that even if she’s utterly terrified of him, there’s something almost fascinating about the way he’s such a polar opposite to her.

Not only is he a Kook but he’s also violent and hostile, whereas she doesn’t even have the heart to kill a bug. His demeanor is aggressive and she thought that was all there was but then he goes on and practically hugs her when she’s a trembling mess with salty tears streaking her cheeks. And she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to think of that.  

In fact, all of it confuses her to no end— disarranging her cerebrum and making foreign emotions bubble in her chest like molten lava. Or maybe she’s just touch-deprived; starving for whatever attention Rafe is suddenly offering her so generously. 

However, she doesn’t necessarily want to think about any of it right now, opting to stare out into the gloom of the night, forcing her mind somewhere else entirely when all at once, the driver’s side door slams open and her head snaps towards it; eyes startled and heart jumping in her chest at the sudden intrusion.  

“Calm down, s’just me,” Rafe mutters, sounding out of breath, his exhales harsh and chest rising and falling like a madman while he leans against the leather seat— eyes soon flitting over her tense form.

“You seriously didn’t move?” he huffs out, brows raised. “When’d you learn to listen? Should give you a treat for bein’ such a good little puppy, huh?” he lets out a chuckle with a shake of his head while she comes to the conclusion that she’s definitely craving a very specific type of attention when her thighs involuntarily press together in response to his twisted notion of praise.   

“You— uh…you okay?” she cautiously asks; an attempt to focus on something other than the warmth scattering along the apples of her cheeks.   

“M’fine,” he mumbles before starting the engine and speeding back out onto the road still sound asleep— the pitch-black sky beginning to fade into a navy blue with the dim glimmer of the street lamps illuminating their journey.    

However, when she gets a better look at him, she notices a few cuts and bruises adorning his tired face. There’s a particularly deep scrape on his cheekbone; crimson transferring to the back of his hand when he mindlessly swipes over it. “Rafe you’re bleeding. What happened?” she exclaims, uneasiness coating her voice.

“Don’t worry, okay? Jus’ had some, uh…disagreements, you should honestly see the other guy,” a lazy smirk paints over his face when he lets out a dry chuckle.  

“Do you want me to clean them up for you? Those could get infected or something.”

“S’just a few scratches, you’re actin’ as if m’bleedin’ out,” he rolls his eyes, turning exasperated.  

“M’being serious, you can’t exactly go to the doctor if those actually end up getting infected, can you?” she argues with a pout.    

“Shit, are all pogues this fuckin’ stubborn or jus’ you? Told you, s’fine,” he snaps in disdain, knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel.  

“It’s not fine, though. Can you jus’…can you just let me help? It’ll take like ten minutes and then you don’t have to worry about it anymore,” she rakes a hand through her hair in frustration because in her opinion, Rafe is the one being stubborn right now.   

“M’not worryin’ about it!” his gravelly voice suddenly thunders from his chest, making her flinch.  

“…well— I am,” her tone is quiet now, slightly regretting bringing up the topic in the first place.    

At that, he lets out an irritated sigh before he’s abruptly pulling over to a parking lot next to some gas station.

She turns to look at him with a surprised expression.   

“Don’t have all day, get the fuckin’ first aid kit from the glove box then,” he grumbles out a harsh demand.   

“O— okay,” her face begins to light up in victory as she scurries to open the compartment in front of her, rummaging through and trying to not pay attention to the plastic baggies filled with white powder or the wads of cash her hand comes in contact with. 

At last, her tentative fingertips find the small red bag she was looking for. However, when she turns to face him again, he’s not initiating any sort of movement, simply spreading his legs out in front of him in his slouched position and staring down at her expectantly.  

She hesitates. “You’re not gonna…move?”  

“If you wanna play nurse so fuckin’ bad then you have no problem sittin’ on my lap, right? Not gonna reach all the way from there, are ya?” his voice is mocking and she can practically feel the warmth crawling up her face.  

“Oh, right. Um— yeah. I’ll just…” she blinks and then she’s clumsily climbing over the console and awkwardly lowering down to his lap while he merely looks at her with a bored expression; annoyance swimming in the lagoons of his eyes as he glares at her, clearly bothered by the fact that he has to waste his precious time on something as trivial as this.

It makes her huff before she’s timidly opening the first aid kit and trying to settle down onto his lap. However, with his long legs sprawled out in the legroom, he’s not exactly making it easy for her— being petty and difficult on purpose while she takes out a clean cotton pad and dampens it with some antiseptic spray. 

“Can you just…” she trails off before gingerly taking ahold of his jaw and tilting his face in an attempt to examine the injuries.  

And to her surprise, he lets her freely maneuver his head as she pleases and despite the sting, he doesn’t even flinch when she dabs over a smaller cut on his jaw— merely lets his gaze flicker over her features, making her grow nervous under his curious eyes while she tries to concentrate on the vermilion spots on his face and not the way he’s soundlessly observing her. Or the fact that she’s currently closer to him than she’s ever been before— can feel the even breaths from his nose tickling the skin of her lower face when she leans down for a better angle.  

“So…you’re a drug dealer?” she decides to try her luck, not being able to sweep the cocaine in the glove compartment under the rug so carelessly.   

“What did I say about questions, puppy?” he scolds her instead of answering.   

“Right— sorry,” her eyes drop. At least she tried.  

And she doesn’t say anything more, instead focuses all her attention on gently cleansing the scrapes while she tries to not pay any mind to the fact that as an afterthought, this position is incredibly improper, and she’s not entirely sure why she agreed to it so easily. Upon careful consideration, she thinks she’s entirely too aware of his sturdy muscles underneath her and it’s turning her respiration more and more labored by each wipe over his skin.  

“Thinkin’ about goin’ to Guadeloupe next week,” he utters out after several moments of silence.  

“You are?”   

“Mhm, m’family has a house there,” his voice is calm, almost relaxed.  

Her brows crease in a question. “But how’re you—”

“I have a private jet,” he states as if it should be obvious. He is a proud Kook, after all.

“Right, of course you do,” she shakes her head when the corners of his mouth tug up. “How long are you gonna stay there?” she then asks while lifting her hand to swipe the saturated cotton over the deeper wound on his cheekbone.   

He shrugs. “Don’t know, ’til I figure somethin’ else out.”

She hums and then shuffles around on his lap some more, trying to wriggle upwards in an attempt to not fall. However, as she’s shifting into a more comfortable position, he suddenly lets out a low grunt from the back of his throat.  

“Shit, puppy. You, uh, you really gotta move around so much?” he murmurs, promptly resting his hands on her hips, halting her movements altogether.   

“S— sorry,” her eyes round out when she realizes there’s a slight bulge in his pants. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re tryna get me hard on purpose, hm?” a breathy chuckle escapes his lips, amusement glittering in blue gemstones while he inspects her flushed face with intrigue.   

“Oh, no— m’not…was jus’— trying not to fall,” her words are rushed, thoroughly embarrassed as she blinks repeatedly.  

“Just, uh…stay still, yeah? Need me to steady you?” he rasps out before strong arms are holding her upright with a firm grip on her waist.   

“Thanks,” her voice is a muted whisper while she tries not to seem so affected— getting a new cotton pad and beginning to scrub off some of the dried scarlet from under his bottom lip, not daring to shift an inch after that.

[necroticboop]

GARGOYLES : ↳ Types of Soulmates