#trying to draw to chase the blues away

[kingzombear]

What do you characters like to do in their down time!

HOMOSEXUALLY CHARGED SLUMBER PARTY MAKEOVERS 🗣🗣🗣

[rainydayathogwarts]

Driver's seat - Steve Rogers

summary: you and steve get a little carried away in one of tony's cars wc: 1.2k+ we'll just ignore the fact that i was supposed to post this yesterday but forgot

Steve Rogers was an old soul. One who’d only been introduced to the concept of making out in front seat of a car about twenty minutes ago, but he was already converted. The roll of your hips so perfectly grinding against his while you pushed him by the chest into the driver’s seat gave Steve a total loss of control, one he could only try to maintain by taking control of the kiss. You didn’t give that to him either, teasing the supersoldier by pulling away from the kiss ever so slightly, in a way that had him lifting off the seat to chase your lips.

Steve was desperate for you, intoxicated by your taste of your lips. Every second you spent turning on the radio and finding the station you wanted felt like punishment for Steve, who could feel his cock throbbing against your cunt. He knew for a fact you could feel him suffering, but that didn’t stop the way you jumped up when a song you liked came on, putting all the pressure on Steve’s dick when you landed back on his lap. The blond whimpered, a pink tint flushing his cheeks as he hopelessly gripped your hips, trying to pull you flush on his dick.

When you finally stopped teasing him, resuming the languid movements of your rolling hips and leaning in to properly kiss Steve, he couldn’t help the moan that ripped out of his chest. You smiled against the kiss, a hand coming up to cup Steve’s jaw, encouraging him to relax and make way for your tongue in his mouth. Steve bucked his hips up into yours, muttering an apology, which was immediately swallowed into the kiss. One of Steve’s hands transported from your hip to the nape of your neck, pulling you even closer to him, and forcing the kiss deeper.

The rhythmic blues of the music acted as a template for the way to move your body against your boyfriend’s, running both your hands down his chest as the lyrics serenaded you. You separated your lips from Steve’s, mouth falling open in a pant as you tried catching your breath. Steve was quick to bring your lips back to his, tongue immediately meeting yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Between you trying to catch your breath and the supersoldier drawing your lips back together, the kiss was heating up.

Moaning quietly, you couldn’t help the way your hands scrambled to find the button of Steve’s jeans, needily attempting to undo it. Steve aided you in doing so, unzipping his trousers and giving you full access to his boxer-clad cock. You broke the kiss, looking down at the thick bulge in Steve’s boxers. You couldn’t help your bodily reaction, whimpering quietly and thrusting your hips to hump Steve’s swollen cock. Steve cried out at your movement, a hand on the back of your head driving you back into the kiss as you manoeuvred yourself out of your denim shorts, letting them hang by your ankles. “Steve.” You whined, wrapping your arms over his shoulders tightly as you ground yourself on his cock, hips relentless in their movements.

“I know baby, I know.” The man reassured, though his voice cracked half-way through his sentence, a moan breaking through. Steve’s strong grip on your hips returned, pushing you down onto him as hard as possible while he dug his feet onto the floor of the car, using it as leverage to help thrust his hips up into you. With the high-pitched moan you let out, Steve almost thought you were already cumming. But instead, you slammed your lips back onto his in a poor attempt to silence your moans.

Steve caught the opportunity to finally take control of the situation as you started humping your hips more desperately, losing some control over your movements. Steve bucked his hips up sharply, ignoring your cry of pleasure as he used the momentum to flip your positions. Without breaking the kiss, Steve reached down the side of the seat, finding the lever to push the car seat down as flat as possible. You gasped when the back of the seat fell back behind you, and Steve gently nudged your shoulders so you lay flat on it. Steve groaned softly, biting down on your bottom lip to hear your whining once more. Steve balanced himself over you with one arm, the other one grabbing your leg to tug you closer to him so he could grind his pelvis into yours.

“Spread your legs for me, darling.” He muttered into the kiss, breathing heavily as your tongue licked against his. You obeyed his plea, thighs falling further apart to make space for Steve’s large torso. The first push of his hips into yours from his new position had you immediately breaking the kiss with a gasp, back arching against the seat of the car in pleasure. “There?” Steve asked, repeating the same movement as you wordlessly hummed in agreement. “Fuck!” You cried, arms immediately latching onto Steve’s torso, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Steve continued his movements, each push of his pelvis stronger than the last, his lips finally connecting to your neck when he started grunting in pleasure once more. He didn’t want to hear his own moans, only yours. That feat was accomplished when he started sucking on the skin of your neck, causing an uncontrollable buck of your hips as you cursed, eyes shutting in satisfaction. Deciding that you needed one last push to your orgasm, Steve’s fingers dipped down the front of your underwear, causing a shudder to go through you. His fingers delved between your folds, trailing upwards to make contact with your clit. The sharp gasp that left you let him know that he found it, rubbing pressured circles down on the sensitive nub.

When you arched your back, a shiver going down your legs, Steve already knew you were cumming before you moaned “Steve! I’m gonna - fuck!” Steve pressed loving kisses on your face, continuing his movements on your clit until one of your hands was grabbing his wrist for him to stop. You panted heavily, cupping Steve’s face with one hand to pull him into a soft kiss, the other trailing down to the band of his boxers. Steve broke away from the kiss, saying “Darling, it’s oka-” But his words were interrupted by his own moan when your fingers wrapped around the leaky tip of his dick.

Both of Steve’s hands landed next to your head in order to stabilise himself, roughly clutching the fabric of the headrest as you squeezed the base of his cock. Steve was already plenty stimulated, so when you brought your second hand down to play with his sensitive tip, his hips unwillingly thrust into your hand, a spurt of cum shooting out onto your shirt as he cried out in pleasure. Steve saw white, eyes shutting as he wallowed in your words of encouragement. You continued stroking him until he rode out his orgasm, slumping against you in the car seat. Steve breathed heavily, trying to form a coherent sentence, but he gave up when he felt your fingers strewn in his hair, eyes shutting in satisfaction.

You reached past Steve’s body to crank open a window, letting the cool night air flow into the stuffy car. “Hey Steve?” You muttered, pressing a kiss on his forehead as you waited for him hum of acknowledgement. “How do we delete security footage from Tony’s car?”

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

What can indicate intense eye contact with some one? Is that something astrology can tell? 🤔

Intense Eye Contact

—Sag sun are masters of strong eye contact. They have that wise beyond their years look. Like they’ve been alive for centuries and this is another re-run of their last shitty trial.

—Scorpio degrees/big 6 placements have strong eye contact. And some may avoid it actually because it feels too intimate. Everytime they look at someone its as if they’re skinning them to see their soul.

—Virgo 8h is another one. Always staring at you to figure out who you are behind what you say. Studies your body language to a T. They don’t take anything at face value. Bonus points if mercury sits in the 8h.

—Aquarius placements/stellium their stares penetrate through flesh and bone. They have this manic pixie look at first and it drives you in real deep, you have no idea what you’re signing up for.

—Mars 1h undressing you with their eyes, both in the spiritual sense and physical :) id say this is more so spiritual if they have strong neptune asp to personal planets, neptune conj mars, pisces/cancer placements. They just want to read your soul, but often comes across like they’re trying to figure out what color your underwear is. (Love ya mars 1h)

—Taurus placements have so much soul and rhythm behind their eyes. Serenade me. Hold me. Beautiful gazes, like gazelle. Reminds me of 90s rhythm and blues.

—Cap Venus has that look, similar to a thousand mile yard stare but more solemn. Tranquil. Somber. Always aching for more and wishing for what could’ve been. It moves you.

—Saturn dom has a resting bitch face, it’s iconic. Always looks annoyed or slightly disgusted at something they saw. Rarely stays for long so you can really see the depth in their eyes. Quick glances, or long drawn out eye contact so you know your place, especially if you messed with them.

—Gemini moon can also have intense eye contact. They’re always analyzing the moment and studying in their head, so it looks as if they’re focused innately on you. Paired with Leo gives them a languid, sultry stare. Feline like and does not approach first, no, they invite you with their eyes.

—Pluto-venus asp is another one entirely. Crash and burn with me gaze. Catch me if you can. Play games with me and chase after me. Never gives away their real intentions, always hidden with that same smirk and their flaunting eyes.

—Cancer moon looks absolutely whimsical, embodying the stars. Droopy, bedroom eyes. Can have a delicate tilt to their head when they listen to you. God, it really draws you in. Like two pools of honey, warming you.

—Neptune asp personal planets. A stare you can’t explain. Dreamy, hazy, personal yet you’re placed on the outside. Feels like a sacred reunion when they look at you, adorning you. Strange familiarity like they’ve always known you.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Capture the Flag

luke castellan x reader

pt 2

A/N: now that i'm writing for other fandoms, feel free to let me know if you only want to be on a hotd taglist. But now, please enjoy the strongest swordsman in camp halfblood

TW: MAJOR SMUT, slight bondage, rough smut, violence, lowkey dark(ish)!luke

word count: 1,699 words

You want Luke Castellan’s head speared on your sword.

It’s like you spend every minute preparing for capture the flag because of him. He spends every last minute of each game cutting down your teammates and stealing your flag, so now it’s time to change the tactic. You ditch your father’s usual battle advice of going for the kill and hope that defence is the best offence for once. You also pray that he will guide your sword anyhow. So there you stand, guarding your flag with two of your most vicious teammates. You dodge the blue team’s first attack that was supposed to draw you off. You may have a short temper but you aren’t stupid. And you’re more than pleased to see the look of surprise on Luke’s face as he approaches.

“Fucking Ares kids.” He grumbles, sword drawn.

“Were you not expecting me, Castellan?” You ask with a vengeful smirk.

He goes right for you. You’re the biggest threat there but he likes to think you’re not even close to his skill level. You would believe that the man plans to cut you down and then your teammates. He always aims for the glory of it all.

“How’s your team gonna get our flag if you’re here?” He asks as he makes the first swing. It’s much better to start off on offence and he’s the one coming at you.

“Who cares. When you’re done, so is your team.” You block him, hating to be on defence but he’s too quick.

“Gods, you didn’t plan ahead of that? There really isn’t anything in that pretty little head of yours, is there? Other than rage of course.”

  You’re a hothead. He knows it. You know it and it doesn’t take much to rile you up. When you’re riled up, you get sloppy. At this point, you don’t care if he guts you, you go for the little fucker’s ankles. You’re actually surprised when he stumbles from blocking your attack. It’s a stupid mistake, especially for him. Though, you aren’t going to let a chance like this slip by. You keep pushing him back, trying to leave him no chance to think in between swings. He trips over a log behind him, the sword falling from his hand. He has no chance now, not on the ground and you won’t be letting him get up.

“Who’s the idiot now?” 

He looks at you as you approach slowly, taunting him. He then grabs his sword and makes a break for it. You’re too shocked to even keep him down.

What the fuck.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke Castellan run from a fight. Not in your 4 years at camp. So you chase after him.

He’s fast, faster than you but you push yourself. He trails away… and away. Then you lose him. 

“Godsdamnit!” You scream into the woods as you jog around where you last saw him. 

You know you can’t stray for long if you’re not fighting Luke so you turn to make your way back to the flag. That’s when he jumps out at you with his sword swinging. You barely have time to block and it puts you off your balance. He swings at you again and again. You fall as you continue to block the merciless strikes. You’re practically holding your sword in the air and hoping for the best. The best doesn’t come as the weapon flies from your hand. He descends on you, straddling your waist as he holds the blade to your throat. He’s smirking.

“You don’t try nearly hard enough.” He says to you. “I know you’re not very clever but hades, my teammates probably already have the flag over the barrier.” 

That’s when you realize how easily you were deceived. Luke didn’t run from you because you bested him; he ran to draw you off. It was a pathetically simple plan and it worked. The heat rises to your cheeks from humiliation. He grabs your two hands and pins them above your head, his grip gentle but also firm.

“I’ll put you in your grave.” You spit out at him.

“Will you now? While I have you essentially restrained?” He’s clearly amused.

You struggle beneath him with all your force but all you manage to do is roll your hips against him, earning a groan from the man. You feel it too, the burning ache between your thighs. You want him. Worse yet, he wants you.

“Let me up.” 

“No. I think you quite like how I have you pinned to the ground.” He smirks.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re wet.”

He slips a knee between your thighs and rubs it against your clothed pussy. It takes everything in you not to whimper.

“S-Stop.” You stutter out.

“Make me.” He murmurs, continuing to make you grind down on his knee as he leans down and forces you into a hot kiss. You hate how you kiss back, so hungry for him. Your mind is clouded with lust for a moment before you realize the advantage he is giving you. You never technically conceded.

As swiftly as you can, you wrap your free leg around his waist and use your whole strength to throw him off you, startling him enough to free your hands.

“You bitch.” He groans as you jab him in the stomach to try and give yourself enough time to grab your sword but it doesn’t work. He grabs you by the ankle and yanks hard. You slam to the ground right on your stomach. He moves to restrain you by sitting on your thighs so you can’t move your legs and holds your hands behind your back. You clearly didn’t consider how inevitably stronger he is than you.

“Shit.” You whine. His hold isn’t nearly as gentle this time.

“That was a cheap fucking shot.” He says cruelly. He’s pissed now.

“Fuck you. Castellan!” Gods it goes straight to his dick when you call him by his last name. He grips your hair with his free hand and pulls back hard so you have to look at him. You whine again at the sharp pain.

“You just can’t play fair, can you, princess? Maybe I won’t either then.”

 He drops your head and you hear him rustling with something. You realize it’s his belt when you feel the leather against your wrists. He’s binding you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is full of rage but to him, you just sound petulant. 

 “What you need.” Is his simple answer.

He shifts down so he sits, or rather kneels, with your legs between his. He’s amused by your renewed writhing as an attempt to escape. It is pitiful really. Oh well, he’ll have you writhing for a different reason soon enough.

His fingertips glide across your waist, to your hips and then to your thighs, causing your back to arch upwards slightly, your stomach dipping. He brings his lips down to your ear, his voice is deep and lustful as he says, “Your body seems to know what it wants.”

“I’ll kill you.” You promise.

“Oh, i’m sure you will. But right now, you fucking belong to me.” He yanks on your hair again so you have to look at him and your eyes water from the pain. “I think you like me hurting you.” His other hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit and you let out a strangled moan. “For a girl who is so controlling, it’s interesting how badly you enjoy me manhandling you.”

He yanks your pants down and slips your helmet under your hips so your ass stays high in the air with your chest to the ground.

“This is fucked up.” You say.

“You love it. Your panties are soaked.” And he’s completely right. You’ve never been so turned on before but not a lot of men are as strong and good-looking as Luke Castellan.

He pulls your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping pussy. He begins to palm himself through his pants and unzips them. “You have about three seconds to tell me if you don’t actually want this.”

You are silent and he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Before you can even prepare yourself or form a thought, his fat cock is shoved inside of you, splitting you open.

“Ah, Luke!” You moan at the pain and pleasure.

“Gods, this is the tightest little pussy i’ve had.” He begins to fuck in and out of you relentlessly, giving you no time to adjust. “Yeah, you’re good for me now, baby. Such a good little cocksleeve.” He punctuates his last words with hard thrusts, the head of his cock bullying into you each time.

All you can do is repeat his name like a mantra as you get pounded on the forest floor by the strongest swordsman in camp. It’s even worse as he begins to rub your clit again, sending you so close to the edge.

“Never gonna have enough of you after this.” Luke murmurs as he feels you squeezing around him. “My good girl.” 

That’s what sends you tumbling over the edge, bringing Luke with you as you do. He never could’ve kept going, not with the way your walls were squeezing around him. He pulls out almost instantly so he can watch his cum spill out of you. He doesn’t wipe it. He just pulls your panties back on and fixes the both of you up. You’re thoroughly spent, he can tell by the way you pant as he releases your wrists.

“You okay?” He asks as he helps you sit up. He grabs your hands so he can kiss the marks on your wrists. After all you’ve done, that’s the act that makes you blush furiously. 

“Um, yeah.” You breathe out.

“I’ll be nicer next time, I promise. Somebody just had to put you in your place first.” He grins wolfishly.

“Next time?” 

That’s when you hear the horn. The blue team has won again.

He pecks a kiss to your cheek. “Time to claim my kleos.” He says cockily before jogging off to meet his team.

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

[chaoticwriting]

YOU ARE MARRIED!!??3

Part 2

It's been a week since Ellie arrived at the manor. All the guests from the night of Ellie's arrival had already returned by that night. And so far, they haven't managed to pry open any more information about their brother-in-law from Ellie that they already didn't know of.

Currently, Ellie is sitting in the living room drawing on her green notebook while eating fruit snacks that Alfred prepares. Cass is watching over her, occasionally asking her what she is drawing.

Except for Cass and Alfred, everyone else is either at work or at school. Suddenly, a portal opens and comes out Cujo with a bag that has Ellie's name on it. So far, Cujo has been delivering Ellie's essential almost everyday for the past week. Whenever Ellie or Cass ask him about Danny, Cujo just shakes his head meaning either he doesn't know or he can't tell them.

Cujo also never stays for long and just jumps away whenever his delivery is done. But to their surprise, Cujo is not alone today. A woman in punk clothing and blue flaming hair follows after Cujo holding a guitar in her hand. Ellie perks up when she sees Ember coming out of the portal.

Ellie: Aunt Ember!

Ember: Hey Ellie. How are you doing? I assume you have been eating well.

Ellie: Yes! Everyone is so nice. Alfred always brings me snacks if I want to and grandpa Bruce buys me a lot of things.

Ember: Good good. I'm just here to say hi and check up on you. Your papa has been worrying a lot since he sent you here.

Ellie: Aunt Ember, when will papa finish his job? I miss him.

Ember: I don't know but for now you stay with your mama, okay? I will tell your papa to deal with his job quicker.

Ellie: Okay. :(

Ember then turns towards Cass and smiles at her.

Ember: Hey Cass. I'm Ember. Danny's friend. Sorry about the late greetings.

Cass: It's fine. About Danny, can I know what his job actually is?

Ember: Errmm, it's not that I don't want to tell. It's just I feel like you should ask him directly since even I don't know what his actual job is. Usually, Clockwork just calls him and off him go to wherever or whenever he sends him.

Cass: I see. But can I know if he is okay?

Ember: As far as I can tell, he is fine. Clockwork hasn't asked any of us for back up yet, so his mission is probably going well.

Suddenly, Bruce enters the living room seeing Ember and Cass talking.

Bruce: Why hello there miss. How can I help you?

Ember: *Stares*

Bruce: Errmm, miss?

Ember: You are that guy that got sent back and forth in time wasn't it? I remember your face from one of Danny's missions.

Bruce: What?

Ember: Yeah. You are Bruce Wayne, right? The Batman.

Bruce: How do you know about me?

Ember: It's not hard when your bestfriend is the one that helps one of his favorite heroes to escape forced time travel.

Bruce: Danny helps me back then?

Ember: Yeah. But at that time, he was mostly chasing after Plasmius. It is a coincidence he met you so he sent you back home first before he continued chasing Plasmius.

Cass: This Plasmius guy, how dangerous is he?

Ember: Ehh, depends on his sanity to be honest. One day, he might come to just fight you, another day he might try to release an interdimensional tyrant from his long slumber. So it's really random.

Cass: And this time?

Ember: Oh did Ellie tell you they are chasing Plasmius? I don't actually know what he is planning this time. Clockwork is being his cryptid ass again and not telling the whole story.

Bruce: Is this Clockwork safe?

Ember: Well, he is okay. I think he adopted Danny at one point so you could call him his adopted parents. But Danny also has real parents so there is that. Overall, he wouldn't allow any significant harm to fall onto Danny or anyone close to him unless he knows that is the best solution possible.

Ember: Oh well, I need to go now. Have a concert to attend to. Bye Ellie.

Ellie: Bye Aunt Ember! Bye Cujo!

Cujo gives out a bark and opens a portal. Both of them enter the portal and disappear from the living room. Bruce has that serious calculating look on his face while Cass just takes everything and processes them. She trusts his husband's judgement. And since she is with Cujo and Danny trusts Cujo, that means whoever Ember is, she is probably a friend.

Bruce goes to his study to enter the Batcave, while Cass and Ellie continue playing in the living room.

-Somewhere else-

A young man with white hair and black and white hazmat suit is flying across an urban city as he chases after a vampire-like older man that is holding a bracelet giving off a green light.

Danny: Give me the bracelet, Plasmius!

Plasmius: You gotta take it from my own hand, little badger!

Danny shoots an ecto beam towards Plasmius as he dodges the attack coming from Danny. Danny being agitated, tries to fly faster but he is already going as fast as he can.

'I wish I could just appear in front of him.'

Suddenly, Danny's vision goes black and when his vision comes again, he sees Plasmius rushing to him. Plasmius is shocked to see Danny suddenly in front of him and tries to maneuver away from him, but at such close distance, there is no way for him to outrun Danny.

Catching his wrist, Danny puts a collar that Clockwork specifically made for Plasmius. Plasmius turns back into a human and if not for Danny holding his wrist, would have fallen down from the sky.

Danny, seeing Plasmius unconscious, processes what just happened. Did he just teleport? How? He doesn't even know how to open a portal. He kind of just wishes it and it happened.

A green portal appears in front of him, cutting off his thoughts. Danny sighs as he doesn't even know what is going on. He should probably return first and ask Clockwork what is happening.

Part 4

[killerplink]

STARVED

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Words: 1,5k

Plot: Nightwing comes home starving, but it's not the food on his mind ✨

CW: 18+, established relationship, smut, oral sex, overstimulation, teasing

Dick drops to his knees like a man on a mission, eyes burning with hunger as he tugs your panties down and spreads your legs. His hands, still gloved, grip your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wants you—wide open for him.

The dark blue of his Nightwing suit clings to every muscle, every flex of his body a reminder of just how tightly coiled his need is. He doesn't bother with teasing, doesn't waste time—his mouth is on you before you can even take your next breath.

And fuck, he eats like he's been starving for it. Maybe because he has been.

His tongue flicks over your clit, sharp and relentless, before dragging through your slick folds, tasting everything you have to offer. A deep groan rumbles through him as he sucks at your clit, the vibrations making your legs shake. His hands keep you pinned in place, his grip firm but reverent, like he needs this, needs you.

"God, baby—" your head tilts back, thighs trembling against his hold. "Always so fucking good for me."

He hums against you, shoving two fingers inside your greedy cunt, fucking them in deep as his tongue works over your swollen, aching clit. He's got you on edge in minutes, pushing, pressing, curling—like he knows exactly how to pull you apart.

And he does.

The orgasm builds sharp and hot in your core, a coil twisting tight, every flick of his tongue drawing you closer to the edge. His fingers are relentless, fucking you open, stretching you, dragging against that perfect spot until your thighs tense, your back arches, and you break, fingers tighten in his dark, messy hair.

It slams into you, a rush of white-hot pleasure that has your hips rolling against his mouth, chasing every last wave. He loves it, moans like he's the one cumming as he keeps his mouth locked to your clit, working you through it, not stopping, never stopping.

Your mind is spinning, your body too sensitive, too hot, but he doesn't give you a second to catch your breath.

He adds a third finger, stretching you wider, and you feel it—the way he groans against your cunt, how he shifts like his dick is aching inside his suit, straining for relief. He loves you like this, loves making you fall apart, pushing you past what you think you can handle.

The second orgasm crashes over you faster, sharper, your entire body seizing up as pleasure floods your senses. It's overwhelming—so intense that it borders on too much, your nerves sparking like live wires, every muscle tensing as the pleasure crests and breaks over you.

Your breath stutters, coming in ragged gasps as your fingers curl into the sheets, legs trembling, your body unable to do anything but take it—all of it—the pleasure still pulsing through you in hot, unbearable waves. Your voice catches, somewhere between a sob and a moan, utterly wrecked, utterly gone, shaking beneath his hold.

And he still doesn't stop.

"D-Dick, I—"

"You got one more for me, my love," he rasps, voice thick with need, his lips and chin shining with your slick. "C'mon. Give me another."

You whimper as he flicks his tongue over your clit, soft, teasing, while his fingers curl just right, hitting that sweet spot over and over. Your body fights it, too sensitive, too much—but fuck, he makes it feel so good.

His fingers sink deep, fucking into your cunt at a relentless pace, wet and obscene, the slick sounds of it mixing with the lewd slurps of his mouth on you. Every thrust is deliberate, each stroke pressing against that spongy spot inside you, dragging pleasure out of you even as your body trembles from overstimulation. You try to squirm away, to close your legs around his head, the pleasure too much, too sharp—but he won't let you.

His free hand presses against your inner thigh, keeping you wide open for him, holding you still as he works you open, stretching you out with three thick fingers. He groans into your cunt, lips wrapping around your clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the swollen, throbbing bud, the sensation shooting straight to your core. Your body shakes, twitching beneath him, teetering on the edge—again.

"Can't, baby," you gasp, your voice breaking, but he doesn't stop.

He hums against your clit, the vibration sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through you. His fingers press deeper, curling, twisting, fucking into you so good you don't know where the pleasure begins or ends. Your walls clench around his fingers, gripping him tight, your body betraying you, giving in even as you try to fight it.

You're going to cum. You know it. He knows it. And fuck, he's going to drag you over that edge whether you think you can take it or not.

Your third orgasm is blinding, a desperate, choked-out cry leaving your lips as pleasure wracks through you, your cunt clenching down hard on his fingers. Wetness drips down, slick and messy, proof of just how wrecked you are, how he's undone you completely.

And fuck, he loves it.

His dick is throbbing, leaking precum like crazy, the tight press of his suit unbearable against the ache. He's painfully hard, desperate for relief, but he doesn't stop, doesn't even think about it—because this?

This is everything. The way your body shudders, overstimulated and twitching, the way your cunt clenches around his fingers like you're trying to milk them, sucking him in, even though you're trembling from how much he's pushed you.

He moans against you, lips still latched onto your swollen, throbbing clit, flicking his tongue in slow, lazy strokes just to watch you squirm. He knows it's too much, knows you're oversensitive, body wracked with aftershocks, but fuck, he could eat you out for hours if you'd let him. If you begged him to. If you grabbed his hair and whimpered please.

His fingers are soaked, glistening in the dim light as he fucks them into you, slow and deep, savoring the way you pulse around him. He groans, rutting his hips against the mattress, chasing even the smallest bit of friction, but it's not enough—not even close.

He wants to be buried inside you, wants to feel your cunt squeeze around his dick just like it is around his fingers, but he holds back because this? This is better. Watching you fall apart, watching your body shake, your breath come in short, broken gasps, your voice hoarse from moaning his name.

Your body shakes, your breath stutters, and all you can do is feel—the way he works you through it, the way he moans like he lives for this, like there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

And he knows—knows you can't take another, not right now. As your body still shudders in the aftermath, you feel it—the hard press of his cock against his suit, straining, leaking, aching for you.

"Need it," you murmur, breathless, reaching for him. "Need your dick so badly, baby. Please."

Dick makes a move to strip, but you stop him, pushing him down onto the bed, straddling his lap. Your fingers work fast, freeing his cock from his suit, letting it slap against his stomach—thick, flushed, soaked with precum, sticky strings of it smearing against his abs. He's so fucking hard, so desperate, twitching in your grasp.

"The suit stays on tonight, baby," you whisper, dragging the head of his cock through your soaked folds, making a mess of him, mixing your slick with his precum.

You roll your hips, teasing, watching the way his jaw clenches, his hands gripping your thighs like he's trying to hold himself back.

He groans, deep and wrecked, his fingers digging into your flesh. "That's fine by me, doll, but you better not tease."

But you do—just a little—pressing the tip inside, feeling the way he throbs for you, desperate, needing more. His breath stutters, hips twitching up, but you keep him there, hovering, stretching you open just enough to feel it.

Then you sink down, taking him all at once, all of him, and the noise he makes is guttural, a deep, broken moan punched out of his chest as your cunt swallows him to the hilt.

"Fucking shit," he groans, head falling back against the pillows, fingers tightening on your ass, spreading you wider, making sure he's balls deep inside your needy cunt.

You gasp, nails biting into his chest through the suit, because fuck—he's thick, stretching you wide, every ridge of his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, sending another sharp pulse of pleasure through you.

His hands flex, hips rolling up, grinding deep. "Feel that, baby? Feel how fucking deep I am?"

You moan, hands gripping his wrists, barely able to breathe. "So full, baby. Feels so good—"

And he's already moving, already pulling you into it, guiding you into a slow, grinding rhythm that has your clit rubbing against the slick, hot mess between you.

He's not gonna last—not after everything, not when you're still soaked, still trembling around him, gripping him like you don't wanna let go. But he's gonna make sure you cum on his cock first.

And the night is just getting started.

[kwilquib]

Careful What You Wish For

Series: Promised 9

Chapter - 1

Chapter 0 | Chapter 2

Lee Chaeyeoung (Fromis_9) X Male reader

Word Count: 8.8k+

a/n: please read chapter 0 first...

“...Just a little nap.” A voice—familiar yet frustratingly elusive—echoes in your mind as you jolt awake, drenched in cold sweat. The words linger, slippery and insistent, like a whisper you’re not supposed to remember.

Your heart pounds as your eyes dart around, landing on the ceiling of your room. Afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the walls. You sit up abruptly, a vague unease twisting in your chest. Something feels... off, though you can’t quite place it.

Shaking the thought, you glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table, only to realize it isn’t there. Did you forget to set it up last night? No time to ponder. Your body moves on instinct. Late. You’re definitely late.

Throwing on a crumpled shirt and the first pair of jeans you find, you fumble with your shoes, skipping the hassle of socks. There’s no time for a shower; no time for anything, really. Professor Min doesn’t tolerate tardiness, and while you’d normally convince yourself you could charm your way out of it, today is different. You feel heavy—foggy, like a part of you is still struggling to wake up.

You rush out of your room, backpack slung hastily over one shoulder. Yet as your hand touches the doorknob, you pause. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you, like you’ve forgotten something important. A flicker of... something—a faint image—dances on the edge of your consciousness.

Darkened windows. Cyan blue. Laughter and whispers.

You blink, and it’s gone.

“What the hell...?” you mutter, shaking your head as you swing the door open.

The hallway feels unfamiliar, even though you’ve walked it countless times. The walls seem a little too bare, the light a little too dim. Your feet carry you forward, but the nagging sensation that something isn’t right refuses to leave.

As you step outside, the sun’s warmth strikes your skin, grounding you momentarily. Yet, as you hurry toward campus, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder, as though expecting to see someone—or something—following.

The faint echo of that voice, soft and teasing, creeps back into your thoughts.

“Just a little nap.”

And for the life of you, you can’t remember what came before it.

As you step out of the dorm building, your hurried stride falters. A particular car catches your eye—a sleek, emerald green Mini Cooper parked casually at the curb. Its glossy finish gleams under the afternoon sun, an almost hypnotic allure drawing your gaze.

You pause, a strange pang of familiarity gripping your chest. It’s an uncommon car for this area, a neighborhood more accustomed to well-worn sedans and the occasional scooter. This Mini Cooper feels out of place, yet somehow… it doesn’t. Something about it nags at the edges of your mind, tugging at thoughts you can’t quite grasp.

“Why does this feel so... familiar?” you mumble under your breath, your feet rooted to the spot.

You study the car closely, as though its curves and details might unlock the reason it stands out. The deep green hue reminds you of something—vivid yet blurred, like a dream slipping away the moment you wake. Your thoughts swim with fragmented flashes: evening, under the street light, brown hair.

And then, nothing.

You shake your head, frustrated with yourself. It’s just a car, you tell yourself, though the words feel hollow. A part of you knows it isn’t just a car. It’s connected to something—or someone. But no matter how hard you try to chase the thought, it remains just out of reach, like a name you can’t remember no matter how many times you roll it around in your mind.

With a final glance at the Mini Cooper, you force yourself to move. There’s no time to stand around playing detective. Yet, as you walk away, you can’t help but feel like you’ve left behind more than just a car.

As you jogged up the university steps, the sharp echo of your hurried footsteps reverberated through the halls. The sound was accompanied by the pounding in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and residual confusion from your abrupt awakening. Your mind raced just as quickly as your feet.

"Please don't be over, please don't be over," you muttered under your breath, clutching your bag tightly as you approached the classroom door.

With a quick glance at the room number to confirm you were at the right place, you pushed the door open. The chatter inside abruptly quieted, and you were met with a sea of unfamiliar faces staring back at you. No sign of Professor Min. No familiar classmates. Instead, a lecturer you didn’t recognize stood at the front of the room, mid-discussion.

"Uh… sorry," you stammered, stepping back awkwardly.

The lecturer barely spared you a glance, and the students returned to their notebooks and screens. Confused, you slipped back into the hallway, your heart sinking. This didn’t make sense. You checked the schedule last night—it was supposed to be Literature in this room today.

Pulling out your phone, you glanced at the time. 1:47 PM. That was correct. But something else caught your eye.

The date.

You blinked, certain you’d read it wrong. Friday.

But that’s impossible, you thought. Yesterday was Wednesday, Wasn’t it?

Your stomach churned as you refreshed the screen, but the date stubbornly remained the same. You checked your calendar app, your messages—everything confirmed it was Friday.

A cold wave washed over you as the realization hit. Somehow, an entire day had slipped past you, and you didn’t even remember it. You staggered back against the wall, struggling to steady your breathing.

What’s going on?

—

You find yourself staring at your reflection in the school's bathroom mirror, your damp hair clings to your forehead. The gnawing discomfort of losing an entire day weighed heavily on you, but what else could you do? you need to move on. Whatever had happened to Thursday—or your memory of it—was a mystery you weren’t equipped to solve. At least not now. For now, you have to focus on damage control.

Pulling out your phone, you checked the course materials. The latest lecture—The Promised Nine. you frowned. The title rang a distant bell, but you couldn't quite place it. Deciding you wouldn't get anything done in your cramped apartment, you fix your damped hair and head out . Golden Brew seemed like the best choice; it was quiet, comfortable, and you had a shift there later anyway.

The walk to Golden Brew feels longer than usual. The streets are quieter now, the usual hustle of students replaced by a calm that only deepens your unease. You can’t shake the feeling that something is missing—something important—but every time you try to grasp it, it slips away like smoke.

When you finally push open the door to the café, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries washes over you, grounding you for a moment. The place is bustling, as always, with students hunched over laptops and faculty members sipping espresso. You scan the room, looking for a quiet corner to settle into, when your eyes land on her.

Gyuri.

She’s behind the counter, her usual warm smile in place as she hands a customer their drink. But something about her feels different today. Her movements are slower, more deliberate, and there’s a faint crease between her brows that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but you notice it—the way her gaze flickers to the door every so often, as if she’s waiting for someone.

“Junho,” she calls out, her voice warm but with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “You’re early today.”

You approach the counter, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I… had some time to kill. Thought I’d get a head start on some reading before my shift.”

Gyuri studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not usually this early. Everything okay?”

Her question catches you off guard. There’s a suspicion in her tone, a probing curiosity that makes you feel like she’s seeing right through you. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you say quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Just… trying to stay on top of things.”

Gyuri doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she nods toward the usual spot in the corner. “Well, find a seat and make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you say, grabbing a cup of coffee before heading to an empty table near the window.

As you sit down and pull out the book you borrowed from the library, your eyes drift across the room. That’s when you notice her.

Seoyeon.

She’s sitting in her usual spot, hunched over her laptop. She looks the same as ever, but something about her presence feels… heavier today, as if she’s carrying a weight she doesn’t want anyone to notice.

You watch her for a moment, struck by how familiar she seems, even though you’ve never had a proper conversion with her. She’s always here, always in that same spot, typing away at something. You’ve seen her countless times, but today, for some reason, she stands out to you. Maybe it’s the way she seems so detached from the world around her, or the way her tired eyes flicker to the screen with a kind of quiet intensity. Whatever it is, you can’t look away.

Gyuri doesn’t mention her, doesn’t even glance in her direction. It’s as if Seoyeon doesn’t exist to her, which strikes you as odd. You’ve always assumed they knew each other, given how often Seoyeon is here, but now you’re not so sure. The two of them seem to exist in separate worlds, even though they’re in the same room.

And yet… something about the way they don’t interact feels wrong to you. It’s not just that they don’t acknowledge each other—it’s that they should. You don’t know why you think that, but the thought lingers, nagging at the back of your mind. There’s a strange dissonance in the air, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing something obvious.

Shaking off the thought, you pull out your phone and open the document. The title stares back at you: Myths and Legends: The Promised Nine. It’s the same myth Professor Min discussed in class yesterday—or at least, the class you think was yesterday. You flip to the chapter, skimming the first few lines. The words feel familiar, almost too familiar, as if you’ve read them before. A faint sense of déjà vu washes over you, and you pause, your fingers hovering over the page.

“Long ago, during a time when humanity was steeped in chaos, war, and unrelenting greed, there was a king—a wise man, yet weary of the barbarism that plagued his people…”

The words echo in your mind, but not just from Professor Min’s lecture. Something deeper, something more recent, tugs at the edges of your memory. Fragments of last night begin to surface—flickers of a darkened café, the hum of low voices, the glow of cyan light. Your chest tightens as the images grow clearer. The women gathered around the table, their presence commanding and otherworldly. Gyuri’s uncharacteristic coolness. Jiheon’s playful smile, her fingers glowing with that eerie light. The weight of their words—The Promised Nine. Anchor. Deceit.

Your breath catches, and you nearly drop your phone. It all comes rushing back—the meeting, the cryptic conversation, Jiheon’s spell. You remember everything. The shock of it hits you like a punch to the gut, and you grip the edge of the table to steady yourself. Your heart races, your mind reeling as the pieces fall into place.

Gyuri and Seoyeon. They were there. They were part of it. They’re part of this—whatever this is. The realization sends a chill down your spine, and you glance up, your eyes darting to Gyuri behind the counter. She’s watching you, her expression unreadable but her gaze sharp, as if she can sense the turmoil in your mind. Seoyeon, too, has paused her typing, her tired eyes flickering toward you for the briefest moment before returning to her screen.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in your head. You can’t let them know you remember. Not yet. Not until you figure out what’s going on. Slowly, you close the book and set it aside, your hands trembling slightly. You take a sip of your coffee, the bitter taste grounding you, and pretend to focus on the steam rising from the cup.

But inside, your mind is racing. The Promised Nine. Anchor. The weight of their emotions, their burdens. And you—somehow, you were there. You heard it all. You saw it all. And now, you’re caught in the middle of something far bigger than yourself.

Gyuri’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “Junho, everything okay over there?”

You look up, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… got lost in thought for a second.”

She studies you for a moment, her gaze lingering a little too long, before nodding. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm inside.

As she turns away, you glance at Seoyeon again. She’s still typing, her movements slow and deliberate, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. You can’t tell if she’s aware of your internal crisis or if it’s just your paranoia, but one thing is clear: you’re not as invisible as you’d like to be.

For now, all you can do is keep up the act. You reopen the book, pretending to read, but the words blur as your mind races. The memories of last night play on a loop, each detail sharper than the last. You need answers, but you can’t risk tipping them off. Not until you know what you’re dealing with.

The café hums with activity around you, but at your table, the silence is deafening. You take another sip of your coffee, the bitterness grounding you slightly. Whatever is going on, you’re determined to figure it out. But for now, all you can do is sit here, pretending to read, while the weight of the unknown presses down on you.

The hours drag on as you finally start your shift, your mind still reeling from the flood of memories that returned while reading the book. Every movement feels deliberate, every action calculated, as if Gyuri might notice the slightest slip-up. You’re hyper-aware of her now, her presence looming larger than ever as the two of you work in close proximity behind the counter. Her usual warmth is still there, but it feels… different. Like a mask she’s wearing, one that’s just a little too tight.

You fumble with the espresso machine, nearly spilling a shot as you pour it into a cup. The milk steamer hisses louder than usual, startling you, and you overfill a latte, the foam spilling over the edges. Each mistake piles up, small but noticeable, and you can feel Gyuri’s eyes on you more and more often. Her smile remains, but there’s a tension in her posture, a sharpness in her gaze that makes your stomach twist.

Finally, after you nearly drop a tray of pastries, Gyuri steps closer, her voice low but firm. “Junho, can I talk to you for a second?”

You freeze, your heart pounding as you nod and follow her to a quieter corner of the café. Her warm smile is still in place, but it feels strained now, like it’s holding back something you can’t quite name. Anger? Frustration? Whatever it is, it’s enough to make your palms sweat.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, her tone gentle but probing. “You’ve been… off today.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… tired, I guess. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Gyuri studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”

You nod, though your throat feels dry. “Yeah. Just a rough night.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but before she can press further, the bell above the door jingles, drawing both of your attention. You glance over, and your stomach drops.

Chaeyoung.

She strides in with effortless confidence, her presence commanding the room the moment she crosses the threshold. A bold blue sweater clings to her frame, the faux fur trim brushing against her collarbone—a perfect reflection of her duality. Allure and restraint. Desire and control. Her sharp gaze sweeps across the café before settling on you, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

You recognize her instantly from last night. But you force yourself to look away, pretending you don’t.

From the corner of your eye, Gyuri stiffens ever so slightly, though she quickly masks it with her usual warm smile. “I’ll let you handle this,” she says, her tone light but laced with something unreadable. Before you can respond, she’s already disappearing into the back, leaving you alone at the counter with Chaeyoung.

Your heart pounds as you turn to face her, forcing a polite smile. “Welcome to Golden Brew. What can I get for you?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she leans against the counter, her eyes locking onto yours with unsettling ease. “Junho, right?”

Your stomach drops. The name feels heavier coming from her lips. You scramble to keep your composure. “I... don’t know you.”

She smirks, savoring your discomfort. “Of course you don’t.” She gestures lazily toward your chest. “I read it off your name tag. Unless we have met before?”

“No— I... we haven’t,” you stammer, fingers curling involuntarily. “Can I take your order?”

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato. Extra shot.” She watches you with an almost amused expression. Then, casually, she adds, “Funny thing... I feel like we have met. Maybe you just don’t remember?”

Your throat tightens, and you quickly focus on the register, keying in her order. “That’ll be 4,500 won.”

Chaeyoung makes no move to pay. Instead, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You remember, don’t you?”

Your hands tremble slightly as you fumble with the cash drawer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her smile widens, and there’s a flicker of something dangerous in her eyes. “Sure you don’t. But just in case you’re lying... meet me after your shift.” She tilts her head slightly, the threat barely concealed beneath her playful tone. “If you don’t, I might have to let the others know your memories are coming back. And trust me... you don’t want that.”

Your pulse quickens, the café suddenly feeling too small, too stifling. Before you can respond, Gyuri reappears from the back, her timing unnervingly precise. She places the caramel macchiato on the counter, her smile unwavering but her eyes sharper than usual. “Here’s your drink. That’ll be 4,500 won.”

Chaeyoung straightens, pulling out her wallet with deliberate slowness. “Thanks, Gyuri. Always so helpful.”

Gyuri’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s an unmistakable tension in her posture. “Junho, can you check on table three? They’ve been waiting for their order.”

You seize the opportunity, nodding quickly and stepping away. As you walk toward the other side of the café, you can feel Chaeyoung’s gaze burning into your back, her presence lingering like an unwelcome shadow.

—

The shift drags on, each minute feeling heavier than the last. By the time evening rolls around, the café has emptied out, the usual hum of chatter replaced by an eerie silence. You’re hyper-aware of Gyuri’s presence, her every movement sharp and deliberate, as if she’s watching you more closely than usual. Your clumsy mistakes throughout the day haven’t gone unnoticed, and the tension between you feels like a taut wire, ready to snap.

Seoyeon, who had been typing away in her usual corner, left at some point without you even noticing. Her absence feels strange, as if the café lost a piece of its atmosphere when she walked out. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely register Gyuri approaching you, her expression softer now but still tinged with concern.

“Junho,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “You can leave early tonight. I’ll close up.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Are you sure? I can stay and help—”

“No,” she interrupts, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ve been… off today. You should rest. You don’t look well.”

Her words sting, not because they’re harsh, but because they’re true. You do feel off—like you’re teetering on the edge of something you can’t quite understand. Still, you hesitate, glancing around the café. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

Gyuri’s smile is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure. Go home, Junho. Get some sleep.”

You nod reluctantly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. As you head for the door, you can feel her gaze on your back, heavy and unreadable. The bell above the door jingles softly as you step outside, the cool evening air hitting you like a splash of water.

The street is quiet, the golden glow of the café’s windows fading behind you as you walk. Your mind is still racing, the events of the day—and the night before—swirling together in a chaotic mess. You’re so lost in thought that you almost miss it.

A flash of light catches your eye, and you turn to see a sleek, blue sapphire Porsche parked a short distance away. Its engine purrs softly, the headlights briefly flickering as if to get your attention. Your breath hitches. It’s one of the cars you saw last night, parked outside the café after hours. And now, it’s here.

Your stomach twists as you realize what—or rather, who—it must belong to. Chaeyoung.

The memory of her threat echoes in your mind: “Meet me after your shift. If you don’t, I might have to let the others know your memories came back.”

You hesitate, your feet rooted to the spot. Part of you wants to turn around, to walk away and pretend you didn’t see anything. But another part—the part that remembers the weight of her gaze, the sharpness of her smile—knows you don’t have a choice.

Taking a deep breath, you walk toward the car. As you approach, the passenger-side window rolls down, revealing Chaeyoung behind the wheel. Her sharp eyes meet yours, a sly smile playing on her lips. She’s dressed in the same sleek blue dress from earlier, the deep blue fabric catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

“Get in,” she says, her voice smooth and commanding.

You glance around, as if hoping for some kind of escape, but the street is empty. Swallowing your unease, you open the door and slide into the passenger seat. The interior of the car is as luxurious as you’d expect, the leather seats cool against your skin. The scent of her perfume—something rich and intoxicating—fills the air, making your head spin.

Chaeyoung doesn’t say a word as she pulls away from the curb, the car gliding smoothly through the quiet streets. The silence is heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional flick of the turn signal. You sit stiffly, your hands clenched in your lap, your mind racing. Where is she taking you? What does she want? And most importantly, what happens if the others find out you remember?

The tension builds with every passing second, and you can’t take it anymore. “Chaeyoung,” you say, your voice tight with impatience, “what’s this about? Why did you bring me here?”

She glances at you briefly, her smirk widening. “Impatient, aren’t we? Relax, Junho. We’ll get there.”

“Get where?” you ask, frustration creeping into your tone. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

Chaeyoung chuckles softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. “So eager. I like that. But some things are better discussed in private, don’t you think?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “You threatened me back at the café. Said you’d tell the others if I didn’t meet you. What do you want from me?”

Her expression doesn’t change, but there’s a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach twist. “Patience, Junho. All in good time.”

You want to press her further, to demand answers, but something about her calm demeanor stops you. She’s in control, and you’re not. The realization makes your skin crawl.

The car continues to glide through the city, the streets growing quieter and more upscale the further you go. Finally, Chaeyoung slows the car and pulls into the driveway of a luxurious hotel. The building looms ahead, its glass façade reflecting the city lights like a glittering jewel. A valet steps forward as the car comes to a stop, but Chaeyoung waves him off with a dismissive hand.

She turns to you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. “We’re here.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding. “A hotel? What are we doing here?”

Chaeyoung’s smile is slow and deliberate, her voice dropping to a low, almost teasing tone. “Like I said, some things are better discussed in private. Come on.”

Without waiting for your response, she steps out of the car, her movements smooth and confident. You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing. This feels like a trap, but what choice do you have? If you walk away now, she might make good on her threat. And if the others find out you remember...

Swallowing your unease, you open the door and step out, the cool night air doing little to calm your nerves. Chaeyoung is already walking toward the hotel entrance, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. She doesn’t look back, as if she knows you’ll follow.

And you do.

—

The penthouse suite is bathed in the soft glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room is spacious and opulent, with plush furniture and a sleek, modern design that screams luxury. But you’re too on edge to appreciate any of it. Chaeyoung stands a few feet away, her back to you as she pours two glasses of wine from a decanter on the counter. The bold blue sweater she wears clings to her frame, the faux fur trim brushing against her collarbone as she moves. She looks relaxed, almost casual, but you know better. There’s nothing casual about this.

“Sit,” she says, not turning around. Her voice is smooth, commanding, and you find yourself obeying before you even realize it. You perch on the edge of a sleek leather sofa, your hands gripping your knees as you watch her.

She turns, holding out a glass of wine to you. You hesitate, but she raises an eyebrow, and you take it, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. The contact sends a jolt through you, but you quickly pull your hand back, setting the glass on the table in front of you.

“Relax, Junho,” she says, her lips curving into a sly smile as she sits across from you, her posture languid and confident. “I’m not going to bite. Not unless you want me to.”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “Why are we here, Chaeyoung? What do you want from me?”

She tilts her head, her smile widening. “Straight to the point, huh? I like that.” She takes a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving yours. “I told you before. I’m curious about you. You’re… interesting.”

“Interesting how?” you ask, your voice tight.

She leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “You somehow got through the mist. Jiheon just let you through. And now, Jiheon lied to the others for you.”

You shake your head, trying to keep your composure. “Mist? Jiheon? We’ve only known each other since yesterday. And didn’t you also see me when you entered the café that night?”

“Hmm,” she hums, her gaze sharpening. “Maybe… but that makes you even more interesting.”

You don’t respond, your mind racing. She’s toying with you, and you know it, but you can’t figure out her angle. Why bring you here? Why the games?

Chaeyoung sets her glass down and stands, moving to sit beside you on the sofa. You tense, but she doesn’t touch you, her presence alone enough to make your heart race. “You’re nervous,” she observes, her voice soft, almost teasing. “Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you say quickly, though the lie is obvious. “I just… don’t understand what you want from me.”

She smiles, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Maybe I just want to get to know you better. Is that so bad?”

You don’t answer, your throat dry. She’s too close, her scent—something rich and intoxicating—filling your senses. You try to focus, to keep your guard up, but it’s getting harder. There’s something about her, something magnetic, that’s pulling you in, and you can’t figure out why.

Chaeyoung leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re fighting it, Junho. Why?”

“Fighting what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“This,” she says, gesturing between the two of you. “The tension. The attraction. You feel it too, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. She’s right, and you hate that she is. There’s something about her, something irresistible, and the more she leans into it, the harder it is to resist.

“You don’t have to fight it,” she murmurs, her voice like velvet. “Just let go.”

Her words are soft, almost hypnotic, and you feel yourself leaning in despite your better judgment. Your mind screams at you to pull away, to leave, but your body betrays you, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She’s close now, so close you can feel her breath on your skin, and you know you should stop this, but you can’t.

And then, just as your lips are about to meet hers, you see it—a faint flash in her eyes the color of allure and depth, sapphire blue, like a spark of light catching the edge of a gemstone. It’s there for just a moment, so brief you almost convince yourself you imagined it. But before you can process it, her lips are on yours, and all rational thought evaporates.

The kiss is electric, consuming, and you’re powerless to resist. Her hands slide up to cradle your face, her touch both gentle and demanding, pulling you deeper into the moment. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of wine and something uniquely her, and it’s impossible to think, to breathe, to do anything but surrender.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you—the warmth of her body, the softness of her lips, the way she seems to know exactly how to unravel you. But even as you lose yourself in the kiss, a small, distant part of your mind whispers that something isn’t right. That flash in her eyes… It wasn't normal. It wasn’t human.

But then she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours, and the thought slips away, drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of her. The way she moves is deliberate, teasing, and you can’t help but respond, your own instincts taking over. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and you’re lost in the heat of the moment, unable to think, to reason, to do anything but feel.

And at that moment, you don’t care. Whatever she’s doing, whatever game she’s playing, you’re too far gone to stop it.

When she finally pulls away, it’s slow, deliberate, her lips lingering just inches from yours. Her breath is warm against your skin, and her eyes—now their usual dark, piercing gaze—lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“See?” she murmurs, her voice low and husky. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You're too dazed to respond, your mind still reeling from the kiss. She smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips, and leans back, putting just enough distance between you to make you ache for her closeness again. Your eyes meet with hers. You can tell what she's thinking, she takes pleasure in seeing you this flustered. Chaeyoung's fingers trail down your chest, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

She kneels down in front of you, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly unfastens the button on your pants. The zipper slides open with a gentle click, and she pulls your trousers down with deft hands. You can't help but breathe a little heavier as she cups your lenght through the fabric of your boxers, her touch sending sparks along your body.

She teases you for a moment, tracing patterns on your skin with her fingers before giving in to the desire that's been building between you two. Chaeyoung asks, her voice low and husky as she leans forward to whisper in your ear, "Want to see something?" You can't help but nod, your throat dry with anticipation.

With a sly smile, Chaeyoung takes her time, pulling down your pants and boxers with a gentle tug. Her eyes dance across your body, drinking in every detail as she licks her lips in anticipation.

"Look at me," Chaeyoung says, her voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want to do with yourself."

You try to form words, but all that comes out is a groan of desire. Chaeyoung laughs, a soft sound that sends shivers down your spine.

"Oh, I think this guy knows what he wants," she says, glancing at your shaft before her eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Her lips brush against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. She kisses you slowly, incrementally making her way up to your tip. With each gentle touch, your meat twitches in response, and Chaeyoung enjoys every reaction, her eyes never leaving yours.

As she reaches the base of your shaft, she pauses for a moment before continuing her ascent. Her lips dance across your skin, sending shivers down your spine with each caress. You feel yourself becoming harder, more insistent, as if begging to be claimed by her touch.

Chaeyoung's mouth covers yours now, warm and soft against your skin. Your breath catches as she nibbles at your tip, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. She takes her time, savoring the moment as much as you are. Your heart pounds in time with hers, the rhythm matching the beat of your desire.

Just when you thought you were finally adjusting to the explosion of stimulation you’ve experienced. She stopped, her eyes met yours.

"Want me to make it easier for you?" Chaeyoung asks, her voice low and husky as she leans forward to whisper in your ear. "Want me to show you exactly what I want?"

Your gaze locked with Chaeyoung although her mouth is preoccupied to form a smile, you can see it through her eyes. She planted both her palms on your lap, gripping them, as her cheeks hollowed as she took you in deeper, her tongue moving freely, swirling around your meat. The sensation was too much, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you as she worked to bring you pleasure. All you can do is groan. As you helplessly grip the sofa.

The reaction as if giving her energy, her pace grew faster, taking you even deeper, you can feel her tongue pressed down by your shaft as she sucks. The wet sound rings to your ear, her moans muffled, its vibration moves through your skin as she serves you pleasure, and it's close. She matched your eye once again, you can see she has no intention of stopping. Her lip tightening around you as she sucked even more harder, her tongue swirled around your tip, her movement grew bolder as she knew you were near the edge.

You groaned one last time as it finally happened. At the last moment she freed her mouth from your length and switched it immediately with her palm cupping the top of your tip, catching your release.

"That's it?" her eyes looking at you disappointed. Before her attention shifts to her hand full with cum. "It was fun at least". She continues.

You stare at her still in dazed, as she was sitting on the floor, she first licked her palm clean of your cum, then her fingers sucking them one by one. After cleaning herself up, she realized you were still staring at her.

“‘You’re still here?’ Chaeyoung mildly amused, her eyes locked on yours once again. A faint, otherworldly light seemed to dance in their depths, as if they were absorbing the very air around them.

“You can leave now,” she said with a wave of her hand, as if ousting you from her presence.

Your confusion deepened at her question. "What do you mean, leave?" you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

Chaeyoung's eyes widened in surprise as you sat up straight, mirroring her bewilderment. "How?" she asked again, her voice tinged with frustration and curiosity.

Your confusion deepened at her question. "What do you mean, how?" you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

Chaeyoung stood up and placed her hands on either side of the sofa, trapping you in between her grip. Her eyes, filled with the tiniest hint of blue, bore into you, making you feel as if she was delving into your soul.

"You remember?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes, I remember last night. Isn't that why we're here?" you answered back.

"No, not that. Just now, what happened, did you remember it? Were you conscious?" Chaeyoung queried again.

“Am I not supposed to?” You asked.

Still maintaining her lock on you, she broke eye contact and started muttering, "So Jiheon didn't lie... you're either resistant if not immune..." Her thoughts drifting away from you.

"Helloooo..." you try to get her attention, snapping her out of her musings. Her gaze returns to your eyes, reminding you of how close your face is.

"Anyway, what will you do now? Will you leave?" she asked, her voice regaining its usual confidence.

"Should I leave? Do you want me to?" you reply, starting to get annoyed with the constant questions and stacking confusion.

Chaeyoung seemingly recognizes your hidden desire. "So you don't want to?" She shifts her position, her arms which were on your sides before now resting on your shoulder, crossing behind your neck. Her feet, once on the ground, now on both your sides as she sits on your lap.

"Why? Is there a reason you want to stay?" she asked, her voice teasing you.

"Well, I feel like it's only right that I return the favor," you answer, your desire to explore this new dynamic between you both growing. Chaeyoung's eyes widen at your response, her lips curling into a smile as she leans in, her breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Chaeyoung's eyes widened further, her smile turning into a predatory grin. "Be careful what you wish for, Junho," she whispers in your ear, her voice laced with both warning and invitation. "Are you sure you want to continue?, you sure you can handle it?”

She pauses, allowing the weight of her words to sink in. "It's not too late to walk out, after this there's no going back" Chaeyoung explains, her voice low and intense.

Driven by lust and the thrill of the unknown, Junho doesn't take her warning too seriously. "I can handle it," he responds, his confidence fueled by arousal.

Chaeyoung's grin widens as she leans back, her eyes never leaving yours. "Then show me how much you can handle," she dares you.

Your heart races as you accept the challenge. You take hold of Chaeyoung's waist, pulling her closer as your lips meet in a passionate, fiery kiss. Your hands roam her body, exploring her curves and feeling the heat of her desire.

She moans into your mouth, her hands moving to your chest, then to the end of your shirt, pulling it up, undressing you as if impatient to have your skin against hers. Your lips never falter, continuing their fiery dance as her hands roam over your chest, exploring every ridge and valley.

With the same fervor that you tore her clothes, you begin to undress her, your lips never leaving hers, your hands never leaving her body. Only stopping to catch air, you take a break from kissing, giving you enough time to admire her now barely dressed top, with only her black lace bra remaining.

Chaeyoung, impatiently, hastily stands up, and in a fluid motion, removes her shorts, then her panties, casting them aside. You, not idle, pull down your pants and boxers which were already previously unbuckled.

After undressing, with the exception of Chaeyoung's bra, you're both completely naked. She returns to your lap, and resumes the kiss, her hands roaming your back, her nails digging into your skin, urging you on.

Your hands grasp her waist, pulling her closer, your bodies pressed tightly against each other. As the kiss deepens, you can feel her hardened nipples rubbing against your chest, sending shivers down your spine.

Chaeyoung breaks the kiss, her lips trailing down your jaw, to your neck, her teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin there, as her hands reach around to unclasp her bra. It falls away, her breasts freed, her nipples standing erect, aching for your touch.

You eagerly complied, your hands finding Chaeyoung's breasts, cupping them gently, thumbs teasing her nipples, rolling them between your fingers, making her shiver with pleasure. Her head falls back, a soft moan escaping her lips.

You move your hands lower, tracing her stomach, and settling between her legs. Your fingers part her folds, gently rubbing her swollen clit, feeling her wetness coating his digits. Chaeyoung's moans grow louder, her hips bucking against his hand, encouraging you to continue.

Your other hand leaves her breast, moving to her hip, steadying her as you begin to finger her, slowly at first, then increasing the pace as you feel her body reacting to your touch. Her back arches, and her fingers claw at your shoulders, leaving red marks.

The air is thick with the scent of desire, the sounds of their heavy breathing, and the wet slaps of your fingers penetrating her. Chaeyoung's eyes flutter shut, her body quivering, on the edge of release.

You feel a surge of power, knowing you're the one bringing her closer to ecstasy. You stop, smirking against her lips as you pull your fingers from her, bringing them to your mouth, tasting her on them.

Chaeyoung's eyes open wide, a look of both frustration and desire on her face. "Put it in.." she whispers, her voice breathy and needy. Junho smirks, ready to continue their erotic dance.

You prepare yourself to pierce Chaeyoung, the sensation was both overwhelming and exhilarating. The tight warmth enveloping me sent shivers down my spine. You could feel her muscles clenching around you, gripping your length, and her orgasm washes over her like a tidal wave.

Chaeyoung's body arched, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her cry of ecstasy echoing in the room. Her eyes seemed to lock onto yours, filled with the subtle color of allure. I asked her, "Why did that happen so fast?" My voice was laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

Flushed with both embarrassment and amusement, Chaeyoung admitted, "I... I haven't done it in a while." Her cheeks were a vivid shade of red as she revealed, "Usually, others never got this far."

You feel a surge of pride and protectiveness, your heart pounding with each beat. you start to move within her, your thrusting slow and deep, feeling her body responding to your touch. The sensation of her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, is intoxicating.

“Oh…. Fuck… that feel… sooo.. Good…” Cheayoung exclaimed.

You feel the telltale signs that Chaeyoung is nearing her climax once again. Her moans grow louder, her pants hasten, her muscles tightening around your length, her nails digging deeper into your shoulders. You can sense the electricity building between you two, as you match her intensity, with lust fueling both your passion.

"That's it… I'm close, keep going… plea–... please," Chaeyoung pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation as she pressed against me, her body yearning for release. The air was electric with tension, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of desire at the sight of her, her skin glowing with sweat, her eyes locked on yours with an unspoken plea.

As Chaeyoung reaches her climax for the second time, her body shudders, her grip on you tightening as her cries fill the room. A wave of satisfaction and arousal washes over you, and you continue to move with her, wanting her to feel every moment of connection between the two of you. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise sends shivers down your spine.

"Wa- wait… not yet," she gasps, her words interrupted by uncontrollable moans that echo through the room like a symphony of pleasure. Her body begins to tremble, her muscles convulsing as if trying to release a pent-up storm.

Breathless yourself, you decide to heed her plea, slowing your movements to give her a moment to recover. Chaeyoung's body, now glistening with sweat, slumps against yours, her stiff nipples brushing against your skin as she rests her head on your shoulder. Her face is a mess, strands of hair clinging to her flushed cheeks, her lips parted as she gasps for air.

Gently, you guide her into a new position, placing her hands on the backrest of the couch and helping her kneel on the cushions. You stand behind her, taking a moment to admire the curve of her toned back, the delicate dip of her waist, and the graceful arch of her hips. The sight of her is intoxicating, and you feel a renewed surge of desire that threatens to overwhelm you.

Chaeyoung's brief respite ends as you join with her again, moving in a rhythm that feels both familiar and exhilarating. Her body responds to yours, her grip tightening as if unwilling to let go. Every movement, every breath, every whispered promise sends shivers down my spine, building the tension until it becomes almost unbearable.

"I can't... no... I- can't..." she murmurs, her voice a mix of protest and surrender, though the way she clings to you tells a different story. You wrap one of your arms around her waist, holding her in place for support, while the other reaches up to grip her neck, feeling the tension in her throat muscles as each of her moans vibrates through her body.

With a gentle pull, you bring her closer, your bodies pressed tightly together as you stand. Her hands, desperate to find something to hold onto, wrap around your hair and grasp it firmly. Her head turns to yours, her eyes locking onto yours with an unspoken plea for release, for connection, for the one person who can satisfy her.

"You feel so good," you whisper, your voice husky with desire as you meet hers once again in a fierce, passionate kiss. Chaeyoung's body shudders and trembles beneath you, her third climax building to a crescendo that threatens to consume them both.

And then, in a burst of energy, you felt your body tense and release, your orgasm building to a crescendo as Chaeyoung's muscles responded to yours. You could feel your seed mixing with hers, a union of flesh and blood that was both intimate and primal. The sensation was overwhelming - a mix of pleasure, pain, and release that left you breathless and trembling.

As the wave of pleasure washed over you, you felt Chaeyoung's body tighten around yours, her muscles contracting to hold onto your spent form. You knew then that you had come inside her, that your seed had mingled with hers in a union of flesh and blood that would remain with you forever.

As you hold on to her tightly, feeling her body lose strength against yours, you can sense the power dynamic shifting in between you. You are the one in control, the one guiding her movements, but she is still clinging to you, as if needing your strength to keep her upright.

You continue to hold her close, your lips never leaving hers, as Chaeyoung's body begins to relax into yours, her breathing slowing and her muscles releasing their tension. You can feel her heart pounding in time with yours, a rhythmic match that seems to be growing stronger by the second.

Just when you thought she was spent, her body turned to face you. She created distance between your lips, giving you a clear view of her face, even with her messy hair and sweat-drenched cheeks, her face wore a smile, instead of exhaustion and satisfaction. Her still eyes full of passion and hunger seemed to bore into your soul.

You realized the night had just started, her eyes hinting at a desire for an endless night. “I told you, Junho, be careful what you wish for”.

Her lips returned to you, unrelenting as she led you to the bedroom. The rest of the night was blurry, but one thing was clear - your desires and hers had merged into a single, all-consuming passion.

—

You wake to the soft glow of pre-dawn light filtering through the window, the sky painted in muted shades of blue and gray. The bed beneath you is warm but messy, the sheets tangled and damp, a testament to the night’s activities. You blink slowly, your mind still foggy, as you take in your surroundings.

By the window, Chaeyoung stands, her silhouette framed against the cityscape. She’s completely bare, her back to you, her posture relaxed yet commanding. The faint light catches the curves of her figure, and for a moment, you’re struck by how effortlessly she commands the room, even in stillness.

Her voice breaks the silence, soft but clear, and you realize she’s not just standing there—she’s on the phone.

“...Jiheon was telling the truth,” she says, her tone thoughtful. “It doesn’t work on him. He’s… resistant to it.”

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Resistant to what? Your mind races, fragments of the night before flashing through your thoughts—her sapphire-blue eyes, the way she seemed to pull you in, the way you couldn’t resist her. Was it all… her? Her magic?

A deep unease coils in your chest, the realization creeping in slowly. What have you done? You replay the night over and over in your head, trying to convince yourself it was your choice—that you wanted it. But doubt gnaws at you, whispering insidious thoughts. Did she manipulate you? Was any of it real? Or were you just another piece in whatever game she was playing?

Chaeyoung continues, her voice calm but firm. “He’s perfect for the job. What else do you need? He’s already acquainted and close to the other girls. Plus, he knows our secret, and we can’t exactly get rid of him now, can we?”

Her words send a chill down your spine. Perfect for the job? What job? And what secret? Your mind spins, but before you can process it, Chaeyoung turns toward the bed. The dim light hides her expression, but you can feel her smile, sharp and knowing, as if she’s aware you’re awake and listening.

“Don’t worry, Romsae,” she says, her voice dropping slightly. “He’s more than adequate. I checked him myself.”

The way she says it—confident, almost smug—makes your cheeks burn. The heat rising to your face is laced with something far heavier than embarrassment—regret. Should you have resisted? Should you have walked away when you had the chance? Now, it feels like you’ve stepped into something far beyond your understanding, and there’s no easy way out.

You want to say something, to demand answers, but your body feels heavy, your thoughts sluggish. Chaeyoung ends the call and sets her phone aside, her movements unhurried as she approaches the bed.

Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you’re pinned under her gaze. You search her expression for anything genuine, anything real—but all you find is that same knowing look, like she’s already figured you out.

She reaches out, her fingers brushing against your cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You should sleep more,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost soothing. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Her words wash over you like a lullaby, and despite the storm of questions raging in your mind, you feel yourself drifting. Your eyelids grow heavy, and the last thing you see before sleep claims you is Chaeyoung’s faint smile, her sapphire-blue eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

And as darkness takes you, the doubt lingers—settling deep within your bones. Did you make the right choice? Or did you just seal your fate?

Next ->

[strawberryhoney11]

ONLY ANGEL ౨ৎ

Drew Starkey x Reader

You are just making your way into the industry, interviewing on red carpets and your podcast. When your interview with Drew Starkey goes viral, suddenly everything changes.

You run your hands through your hair, nervous beyond belief to be on the red carpet. You had been working towards this goal for a while now, slowly building up your confidence on your podcast, bringing guests on of high status. When you were asked to attend the Outer Banks Season Three Event, you were shocked but also excited. You had talked about your celebrity crush, Drew Starkey, on your podcast. He was becoming very popular now but you had taken an interest in him since Season One, when you had just started getting recognition on Youtube. This was a dream come true. I mean, how many people got to talk to their celebrity crush?

Thinking these thoughts in your head was only heightening your anxiety and building a pool of nervousness in your stomach. You held onto the microphone like it was a lifeline as the crowd began to grow louder, signaling the arrival of the cast and other guests.

You felt small compared to the other big interviewees who had been building their portfolio for years. You were just getting into this business and wondered if everyone could tell. Transitioning from posting Youtube videos entailing your life to interviewing big stars on a red carpet felt like the biggest jump of your life. But it felt right, being here and doing this. After all, it was what you had always worked towards. This was your chance to make it count.

When flashes erupted as Chase Stokes took the center of the carpet it all began to feel real. This is it. You can do this.

Drew was next in line, behind Chase, as soon as he stepped up the cameras were blinding. He was becoming a hot topic on TikTok and you definitely understood why. He was so talented at what he does that you couldn’t even bring yourself to hate his character, one of the antagonists on the show.

As Chase started his interviews all you could think about was Drew Starkey standing in front of you, you blow out a breath to steady yourself and focus. Except Drew was wearing a dark navy blue suit that hugged his figure, highlighting his large shoulders and long legs. He was so tall, only adding to the appeal.

You pretty much blacked out in your interview with Chase Stokes, asking all the prepared questions in your head. He was nice and helped you feel more comfortable, shaking off the nerves that had been building all day. As soon as he stepped by you to go to the next interview, you snuck a glimpse of Drew just a few feet away now.

You didn’t show any outward signs of stress, trying to reel yourself in. But who wouldn’t be nervous to interview Drew Starkey?

You looked to your media assistant, Luke, and he gave you an encouraging thumbs up. Taking in a deep breath, you prepared yourself.

Drew was shaking hands with the interviewer beside you, saying his goodbyes and looking in your direction. He strides forwards, hands in his pockets, with a welcoming smile on his face towards you.

“Hi, good evening.” You tried not to sound too excited, acting normal.

He smiled in response, “Nice to meet you. Feels very good to be here.”

“Drew, you’re deservedly on the rise currently. What do you think draws people towards your character in the show? He’s a fan favorite.” You start off with a simple question, testing the waters. He nods as you speak, paying attention like you are the only one in the room. It almost makes you catch your breath.

“Thank you. I think what makes people so enamored with him is because of how layered he appears. He’s not the typical ‘villain,’ you know? There’s a lot more to him than that.” You smile as he talks to you, unable to stop yourself. His encouraging smiles make you nervous, but you continue.

“What should we look forward to in this upcoming season with Rafe?” He leans forward as the crowd becomes louder, entrapping you with his presence.

“There’s definitely some growth, he’s looking to bigger things this season I think.” He scratches his jaw, drawing your attention to his hand. One signet ring is on his finger, much like his characters.

He is smiling in anticipation, looking down at you from his towering height. You start your next question when he interrupts you, “I’m sorry, I - I think I recognize you from somewhere.”

You didn’t prepare for this, causing your cheeks to erupt with color.

“Oh-?” He’s smiling knowingly now, in a teasing manner, leaning closer as the crowd pushes in around you.

“Maddie Cline watches your videos. She loves you.” He says, taking a preview of you now that he fully recognizes you. Drawing his eyes from your face to your feet.

“Oh, my- I had no idea. I’m excited to talk to her tonight, I’m a big fan.” You can’t stop yourself from rambling, forgetting your prepared questions. “You said she watches my stuff?”

“Yeah, I was trying to remember where I saw you.” He scratches his jawline again, narrowing his blue eyes at you.

“I’m pretty forgettable.” You joke, shrugging your shoulders.

“No, not all.” He’s quick to respond, taking your breath away. You laugh, nervous beyond belief.

What were your questions?

“You’re doing great by the way. It’s intimidating walking into this.” He nods, encouraging you that you aren’t doing something wrong. You loosen your grip around the mic, becoming more comfortable now.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” He laughs at your snide comment, filling your stomach with butterflies. Is this actually happening?

“You should have me on your podcast, yeah?” His teasing remark sparks some confidence underneath you.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re ready for that kind of thing yet.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise, as you shrug.

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you smile at each other as he plays along. You completely forget about the line of questioning, the fact that he has to keep moving down the carpet.

“Maybe, then?” He asks, leaning forward. The fact that he even knew about your podcast was enough to make your hands shake.

“I’ll give you a call when I think you’re up for it.” You remark, as a man in a suit comes up behind Drew, telling him to keep going down the line.

He still smiles at you as you part ways, stepping forward at the last second to add in another comment. He takes hold of your microphone, placing his hand on top of yours as he brings it towards himself.

“I’ll be waiting.” Drew smirks, looking directly into your eyes.

Your stomach flips at his words, your cheeks feel like they are on fire. He waves as he walks away and you aren’t sure what to do besides wave back. You look at Luke, who has a smile on his face, shaking his head.

Hopefully that didn’t look weird, you think to yourself.

You can’t deny the jumble of feelings in your stomach, paired with your erratic heart beat. He touched your hands. What just happened?

Would that even constitute as an interview? You have to quickly recover instead of analyzing your interaction.

Madelyn Cline is smiling from ear to ear as she approaches you, it slipped your mind to even consider who was in line after Drew, but you had to brush it off.

“Hi! I love you!” You both say at the same time, bringing each other in for a hug.

You couldn’t believe how this night was going.

[lalunanymph]

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: suggestive content, toilet talk, mentions of injuries, hostility, tension, repressed emotions, isekai-ed reader, reader is in princess cerena's body, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo

⟡ masterlist

ACT 2, SCENE 1: THE INFIRMARY

The fading sun spilled over your mother’s deep set smile, the sight of paddy stalks swaying in the wind instantly bringing relief to your worried soul. 

You found yourself lying on the engawa with her, the veranda stretching out as far as your gaze could comprehend; your eyes lazily following the last of the brilliant orange sunset rays weaving through the idyllic pink and purple skies. Your mother laughed at something you said, and you clinked your cup of rice wine with hers, drinking deeply and heartily, content and fully at peace with where you are now.

“Wake up,” she suddenly whispered into your ear, nudging your shoulder. 

Like a mirage in the middle of a shimmering desert, her face disintegrated in front of you, warm eyes turning a crystalline, cold blue.

The magnificence of the splendid skies fade into timbered ceilings, flickers of shadows from the fireplace belching out heat dancing across the latticed wood, drawing your bleary focus towards the pockets of dark intermingling with light.

You groaned, shifting on the hard mattress, and heard a rustle from your right. 

The same blue eyes that haunted you in your dreams wavered into view, Satoru’s face hovering above yours.

You screeched, grappling for something—anything to defend yourself with—pure fear lighting up every nerve ending in your body with a vivid cocktail of adrenaline and terror.

“Calm down, woman,” Satoru mumbled, gripping your scrambling hands, trying to ease you back onto the bed.

But, your mind was filled with the rampant memories of him chasing after you through the thick foliage, the sword brandishing against your bare neck. Your pupils turned into pinpricks from the fear and your breaths came out as labored exhales, the delayed shock leaving you cold and hot all over.

“Stay away from me.” 

You tried to put some distance from him, using what little strength that was left in your limbs to push yourself further up the bed, curling your shoulders inward like a prey trying to make itself smaller in front of an apex predator.

His lips twitched in the corners, those oceanic, cold eyes freezing over with distaste.

“I spent three whole nights trying to keep your fever at bay, and this is the gratitude that I get?” 

Satoru’s incensed words barely stirred a flicker of guilt from you, your weary eyes fastened on to him, refusing to let him out of your sight. He took one look at you, this unruly princess with perspiration dewing on her brow, and sighed, reaching for a glass of water by your bedside. His grip on your chin used less considerable force than before, and reluctantly, you parted your lips, drinking from his hand deeply. 

Once you satiated your thirst, Satoru set the glass back on the hardwood side table, his crystalline gaze scrutinizing you all over. 

Closer this time, you took a good look at him. 

Dark circles bedraggled his usual princely countenance, and his frosty white hair was sticking up at odd ends, as if he had frustratedly raked his fingers through them over and over again. The scruff of a five o’clock shadow darkened his chin, and you resisted the urge to touch the fading red lesions on his face, suddenly feeling immense guilt for how you had jumped at the opportunity to harm him.

“Wasp stings,” he scoffed, raising a brow. “I knew princesses were delicate, but to faint from such a common insect bite? You are far weaker than I imagined.” 

Whatever pity you felt for him in that split second of humanity shattered at his careless and callous words. Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed, turning your face away.

“Yes, I am allergic to wasp stings,” you sneered. “I apologize that I forgot to mention that when you were literally chasing after me with a broadsword, Your Highness.”

There was little doubt of the derision at the utterance of his title, and Satoru tensed, his own eyes narrowing at your impertinence.

“Astounding. After everything I’ve done for you, Cerena—”

He turned his face away from you abruptly, as if he could not comprehend why he was here in the first place. The Prince stalked over to the fireplace, hands behind his back, watching the flames lap at the charred pieces of firewood. 

Not wanting to interrupt his thoughts, you eased from the bed, trying to stand on your shaky legs while using the headboard for support.

As if he had a beacon on you, Satoru was instantly at your side, gripping your elbow and supporting you back into bed. 

“Stay where you are, Cerena,” he hissed, the frustration in his tone unmistakable. “Do not strain yourself and hurt yourself again, you foolish girl.”

In retaliation, you glared at him, feeling the urge in your bladder overtaking your common sense to keep your distance from him. “I need to relieve myself in a toilet, you sick sadist. Let me go.”

Unperturbed by your choice of colorful words, Satoru nudged a blackened pot closer to you with the tip of his hunting boot, gesturing at it. 

“What in the world is a ‘toilet’? You shall use a chamber pot like everybody else.”

However, he didn't expect your eyes to widen as you took in the strange, earthenware. “That… is a chamber pot?” You haven’t exactly seen one before, though you had read about it in fantasy novels.

Satoru’s brows knitted together, and he looked at you as if you had sprouted two heads. 

“Do not tell me you have not seen a chamber pot before?” 

His words rang hollowly in your heated ears, and you turned your gaze from the intimidating object and back to him again, the questioning look in your eyes apparent even in the low, firelight. 

“I just… relieve myself in there?” 

You knew what this must look like to him: if you were confronted by the sight of someone who couldn’t even use a toilet bowl, you might be questioning their motor skills and mental capacities. The skepticism on his face spoke loud volumes to his consternation and faltering patience.

“Yes, Cerena. You… relieve yourself in there.” 

Unbeknownst to you, the prince was blushing, his face turned away from his befuddled fiancée, staring at the wall as if it could tell him the secrets of the universe. 

Right. You had to go and since Satoru was stubbornly rooting himself in this room, you made a sound of consternation in your throat and tried to fight off the heat threatening to burn your entire face off. 

“Could you… give me some privacy?” Politely, you added, “Please?” 

To your utter frustration, Satoru snorted, shaking his head. “So you can escape again and force me to hunt you down? No. You will relieve yourself right here with me in the room together with you.” He spun his head around to raise a brow, as if to goad you into challenging his edict. 

Flushing, you curled your upper lip over your teeth, attempting to fix a snarl on your face that you hoped would keep him at bay.

“Excuse me? And since when were you allowed to encroach into my privacy? This is insane…” 

Trailing off, you did not expect Satoru’s sneer to deepen, the flame of hatred igniting in his blue eyes, taunting you with cerulean vindication. 

“Insane? Perhaps. Smart? Yes,” his nostrils flared. “I cannot risk having you evade me for a second time, Cerena.” 

You wanted to argue that you weren’t the woman he despised, but nature’s call was hard to ignore. Huffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, trying not to think too hard about how thin the nightgown was to bring attention to your curves hidden underneath the see-through linen.

It appeared as if Satoru, too, was trying hard not to flicker his gaze to your chest, playing the role of a gentlemanly prince well enough, despite the lack of spectators here to denounce his poor treatment of you. 

Staring him down, you fought to keep your natural urges under control, needing to shake him up with your determination. But, whatever stubbornness your actions were made up of, Satoru’s were multiplied by tenfold as those icy blue eyes bore into yours with the chilliness of an ocean in the middle of an icy tundra. 

Eventually, your need to go won out and you let your arms fall to your side, exhausted sigh echoing across the infirmity. 

“Fine. But, can I be spared some privacy, please?” 

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Satoru turned around, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood to the side of the room, giving you a wide berth to conduct your bodily eliminations in private. 

Hiking up the hem of your nightgown, you finished your business, finding it extraordinarily hard to keep your balance while squatting over the earthen receptacle. Satoru, having heard you clean up after yourself, turned back around, and if you dared to look closer, you would’ve seen the splotches of red adorning his cheeks betraying his natural instinct of shame at having been in close proximity to such a private occurrence. 

You struggled to get back into bed, surprised to find his hand shooting out to steady your arm, letting you lean on his strength. With barely a hitch, you flopped back onto the bed, gasping in mild pain when your aching body met the mattress.  

Now that you were far more level-headed after relieving yourself, you could give the matter at hand your full attention.

“Why are you here, Satoru?” 

Barely mincing your words or stopping to consider the delicacy of his presence right in your infirmary room. Your glare spoke volumes of your distaste and confusion; if he were a lesser man, Satoru might indulge in your obvious confusion, gloatingly holding it above your head.

“I have told you,” he uttered. “It is because I am here to watch you.” 

You glanced around, noting the quiet room and the lack of human presence which wouldn't lead to any trouble. 

“Um. Alright…” 

Without warning, he advanced closer to you, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to look right into his glacial eyes, a terrifying glare etched on his face. 

“Your antics in the forest were beyond idiotic, Cerena. I have not forgiven you for what you did to me—” pointing at the reddened swellings on his neck and face, the thunderous look in his eyes could have consumed you alive with his pure hatred for you. “—and you will pay for this once you get better.” 

The sharp gleam of his toothy grin made you flinch, the bloodthirsty look on his face enough to make you assume the worst: that Prince Gojo Satoru was going to call for a harsh enough punishment to debilitate and agonize you. Images of a flogger hitting your bare skin, or your body dangling from the gallows flashed in your mind and you inadvertently took a step back from him, your eyes wide and fixated upon his face with a look of pure horror.

“Satoru…”

Like a great white sniffing out your weakness, the blasted man advanced closer to you, never relenting upon his frightsome smile.

“Why the sudden fear in your eyes, Cerena? Are you regretting how you treated me? The crap you put me through!” His voice rang throughout the room like a gunshot and you struggled to your feet, stumbling backwards against the wall, slapping a palm to your mouth to keep your shriek of fear from slipping past your trembling defenses. 

“Satoru, stop!” 

But, he would not listen to you. A murderous glint had overtaken Gojo’s usually stoic blue eyes, stinking of retribution and retaliation in payment for whatever Cerena had done to him. 

You could not stand for such accusations hurled into your face again, the burning need to know the wrongs the Princess had committed that earned her such wrath from Satoru disintegrating the last of your hesitation as you blurted out: 

“I am not Princess Cerena!” 

As if your words were a magical incantation, he paused. You could see the cogs turning in his head, the implications of your declaration working through his brain. 

“What do you mean you are not Cerena?” Astounded and frustrated, Satoru’s blue gaze froze over, threatening to leave you in the roiling of its frigid waves. “That is absurd. Have you gone mad? Or, did the venom of the wasp stings affect your brain?” 

You had just noticed the thin, white linen shirt he wore which exposed a sliver of his pale chest, the frosty white tips of his hair falling across his face, shading his eyes in their disarray.

Never in your life had you felt this helpless, unsure of how to piece together your words. 

“I am not her,” you finished in a quiet tone. “I am from another world. A world which is different from yours.”

Satoru scoffed, as if finding the very idea disturbing. “What other world? You know what, maybe you need to speak to the physician. This is getting out of hand.” 

Unexpectedly, you stomped your foot, training your baleful glare onto him. 

“Get it into your thick skull, Satoru! I am not Princess Cerena!” Huffing, you decided to lay all your cards on the table, uncaring how he would receive your words. Maybe he might punish you or send you to a lunatic house, keeping you far away from court. But, there might be the slim chance that he would believe you, if only you could convince him. 

“My name is Y/N and I am from Earth. I work as a florist in a family-owned shop, and before I arrived here, I was struck on the head by a thief and I woke up in Cerena’s body just as you were berating me for hurting your precious Miri.”

His nostrils flared, probably not enjoying how you brought his lover into this conversation. 

The disbelief and distrust on his face was not hard to sense. 

“What do you mean by that?” His demands were laced with agitation. “Are you trying to deceive me? That will entail a punishment far worse than when you tried to assault me, Cerena.” 

You were shaking your head before he could even finish. “No, I am not trying to deceive you, I promise. What I’m saying is real and true.”

Yet, he looked like he could scarcely believe you. 

Your quick mind came up with the idea on the fly. “Quick, tell me something only Princess Cerena would know.” 

Satoru huffed, but played along, which was a good sign. 

“Fine. Say I believe your demented words. One thing only she knows about me…” Satoru trailed off, and for a brief moment, you swore you caught a look of grief flitting across his expression.

“Tell me when is my birthday.” 

You floundered, having no idea when he was born. The prince was a mystery to you, and this was the perfect question to prove your identity that you were not the princess. 

Tossing a random date, you murmured, “December the 7th?” 

You had expected him to scoff and tell you that getting such a simple question wrong wouldn’t prove anything, when you noticed he had stiffened, those crystalline blue eyes growing wide.

“Wait… did you just say December the 7th?” 

You nodded, gnawing on your lower lip. 

“See, I told you, I am not the Princess–”

“That is my exact birthdate.” 

Satoru’s words made you come to a hard pause. You looked up at him with horror inscribed on your features. 

“Wait, I can explain–”

“Even Cerena did not know when my real birth date was…” he added reluctantly, “Royals aren’t allowed to share the precise moment of our birth and we have a fictitious date made up for the general public’s knowledge.” 

Satoru’s fixated gaze upon you burned as if you were touched by glowing embers. 

“How did you know when my real birthday was?” 

Suspicion lined his tone now, and you were well-aware that you had stepped into a different territory with a different arena of mistrust now. 

You shake your head. “It was merely a lucky guess.”

His derisive scoff burned your ears. “A lucky guess? Hardly. You know something I do not.”

Raising your hands, you tried to placate him. “I swear to you, I had no idea my guess would be correct.” 

Once more stumped at how to prove your innocence, you were struck by the contemplative thought that if you were in her body, perhaps there was a blemish of Cerena’s that only Satoru might know about.

“Okay. Since I cannot prove my innocence to you, let us try this.” You took one wobbly step towards him, his skillful cerulean gaze pinpointing your every movement with a sharp gaze. 

Standing chest-to-chest with him, you narrowed your eyes. 

“Tell me what blemish Cerena has on her body and I will show you that it is missing on mine.”

You had done a thorough examination of Cerena’s body back in Aeva’s hut, combing through your reflection in a mirror to assess who you truly were. You made the discovery that her skin was spotless, barely a mole or a wart. If Satoru had intimate knowledge of what flaws she had on her body, perhaps when she had mentioned it to him back when they were courting, you could dissuade him by proving that you were unspotted and taintless. 

Growing pensive at your suggestion, Satoru touched his forehead, trying to get his confusion under control. 

“Fine,” he relented. “Cerena has a birthmark right on her inner thigh. If you can show me it does not exist on your body, perhaps I may be swayed to believe you.” 

Perfect. You didn’t hesitate to sit on the edge of the bed, hiking up the hem of your nightgown to display your unmarked skin, the firelight throwing a warm, orange glow over the smooth expanse of your shin, like the flames were intimately caressing you. 

“See?” You uttered triumphantly, and bared yourself further to his wandering eye. “No birthmark. No blemish. I am not Cerena.” 

What you hadn’t expected was his cheeks to brighten with a blush. Satoru coughed and looked away, averting his eyes out of respect for your honor. 

“You didn’t… you did not have to show off yourself in such a brazen way.” 

Cocking your head to the side, you regard him with a confused countenance.

“What do you mean by that, Satoru?” 

He cleared his throat, the pink flush on the apples of his cheeks refusing to abate.

“You are a princess, despite who you believe you are.” The rasp of his fingertips brushing your hand sent a jolt up your spine. Satoru brushed your fist from the hem of your nightgown away, taking it upon himself to tug it back down and make you decent once more. “And princesses do not go around baring their bodies to other men… even if he is her betrothed.” 

Your brow furrowed in befuddlement, thrown off by such a chaste idea.

“Hang on,” suspicion flooded your next question. “If you claimed you were as moral as you are now, how did you know Cerena has a birthmark on her inner thigh if you had never seen it before?” 

He raised a brow, knowing something you didn’t. “It is customary for the matchmaker to scrutinize a princess from head to toe, taking in her countenance, her health and her virtue before recommending her to another royal family. I know details about Cerena’s body despite never having seen it myself.”

Oh. You supposed that made sense. 

Circling back to the topic at hand, you purse your lips. “So, do you believe me now? Believe who I am?” 

Despite the distrust swimming between the two of you, Satoru cannot deny that there was a sliver of truth in the bullshit you laid out for him; a kernel of understanding thrown in this confusing haystack of this sudden revelation.

“Say I believe you, What are we to do now? Where can I find the real princess and bring her back?” 

Satoru’s cerulean eyes glimmered with an undeniable hope, one which you regretted having to douse before it could fully bloom. 

You have no reply for his earnest question, unsure if you even knew how to get Cerena back.

“I… don’t know, Satoru. I’m sorry. I cannot answer your question. I suppose we just have to… wait for her to reappear back and claim her body.”

The next question he sprung up on you took you completely off guard. 

“So, does it mean once she returns, you will be gone?” 

You had never given much thought to your fate after leaving Cerena’s body, but you supposed it was plausible that the both of you will return to your rightful vessels once this whole fiasco was over. 

“I believe so. Though, I cannot be sure. I still don’t have any answers.”

At a mindless movement of your arm, you winced at the sudden stench you caught wafting from your body and you balked, wondering if he was being polite by not bringing up the fact that the unclean and unpleasant odor was emanating from you.

“I need a bath.” 

Despite how he wanted to continue the conversation, Satoru knew your comfort had to come first if you were to be in the right mind to give him the answers he needed. 

He stepped out of the door, barking an order for the maids to bring a tub and a fresh wash of clothes for you to change into. 

At his behest, two young brunettes rushed in, carrying a solid wooden receptacle lined with iron accents which they tipped hot water inside, letting the steam mingle with the dry humidity of the room. 

Glancing at him with a furrowed brow, you asked, “Aren’t you going to give me some privacy?” 

Again, Satoru did not relent on his compulsion to observe your every movement, his rapt gaze catching onto your discomfort. “And risk you leaving again? I told you, Ce—Y/N… I will not let you go again that easily.”

The maids continued to work, pretending to be deaf and blind to the building tension between the two of you. 

Heatedly, you retorted, “Satoru, I am injured and sick. Why would I run away from you when I am not feeling well? You are making no sense.”

He retaliated with a glare. “Sick or not, you have proven to be a thorn in my side, woman, and I will not let up my guard only for you to slip away again.”

Sensing there was no room for him to budge, you sighed, reluctantly agreeing to have in the room while you bathed.

“Can’t you at least turn around, Satoru?” 

A huff. He spun around, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixated on a water stain upon the otherwise pristine white walls, fighting hard to ignore the stuttering beat of his heart, how he could hear every rustle of your infirmary gown melting from your body, the breath of relief you exhaled once you stepped into the warmed water.

The maids made quick work of the grim on your body, scrubbing you hard enough to make your skin shine and squeaky. They yanked through the dirt in your pink locks, brushing out the stiff clumps with a horsehair brush, tipping fresh water from more buckets by the tub atop your head and body to wash off the soap. The water was pleasantly fragranced with the scent of lavender and roses, the oils clinging to your skin and perfuming your hair. 

By happenstance, a moan slipped past your clenched teeth when they started to scrub your back, and Satoru tensed, the sudden sound sending an unmistakable thrill through his body.

The stoic prince trained his focus on the water stain, ignoring the flush of heat dusting his cheeks.

“Are you feeling better?”

His sudden question took you by surprise, and you noticed the rigid set of his shoulders, the tension underneath the seemingly innocent question. 

“I am,” you quipped, allowing the maids to grab your arms and gently hoist you out of the tub and to your feet. They wiped you down with a pair of fluffy, cotton towels, and dressed you in a new linen gown, careful to avoid the lesions on your hands. 

Once Satoru was sure you were done with your bath, he hesitantly turned back around, his cerulean gaze raking up and down your refreshed coloration, how there was more warmth on your cheeks.

A soft grunt emitted from the back of his throat, and he stiffly approached you, bearing down on you, the fire in his eyes drawing you up short.

“Now, we have to speak about the matter of your unwelcome visit to this world.”

You steeled yourself for this discussion, your mind going a mile a minute, wondering what else this detestable man might want to bring up.

Satoru, too, seemed to brace for the topic at hand, taking in a deep breath. 

“I want you to know that such a situation is not ideal, but I am willing to overlook this oversight of your presence here in court,” his curt words made you bristle, as if you had begged to appear overnight in another woman’s body—hounded and despised by the man you were engaged to. 

Your lips twisted in a glare, and you stared him down, unwilling to bend from his contempt. 

“You speak as if I wanted to be here in the first place—I do not have a wish to remain here, Satoru. I want to go back home, too.”

At the mention of home, you cursed the tremble in your voice, schooling your features to be neutral and unimpeachable. Satoru, however, was determined to paint you in a disdainful light, scorning your presence before him despite how none of it was your fault.

“Perhaps I may believe you on this, but for this moment, I am not swayed.”

You swore steam could pour out from your ears and your throat would bleed dry before this bastard of a prince would believe you. 

Echoing his maliciousness, you scoff. 

“Satoru, no offense, but you overestimate your worth to me. I am not enjoying a single moment here and if I had the chance to choose, I would never have met you in the first place.”

Dripping with poison, each word was an affront to his hubris, a dart to his superior ego and excess pride.

However, you did not anticipate those cold blue eyes to waver at your venomous declarations, a brief flash of hurt appearing across his face.

Before you could look further, he closed himself from you once more, a chilling look clouding over his entire visage.

“That is fair and reciprocated. I do not wish to burden you for a second longer with my presence, either.”

He turned his face away, and you wondered what had gotten into him; why he was being so defensive and argumentative when you were trying to help him understand where you were coming from. 

Shaking your head, you tried to dismiss those troublesome thoughts, focusing on the matter at hand.

“So, you believe me?”

Tinged with hope, you dared believe this new reveal would make him considerably friendlier towards you, or at least civil enough to not try and harm you when there was no good reason to. 

For a second, he didn’t say a word, the room filled the sounds of your soft breaths, the crackling from the fireplace.

“Hmm. A bit. But, as it stands, I have a duty towards my country and so do you.” His tone brokered no room for an argument. “While we wait for a solution to present itself, I need you to perform as Cerena—that means learn how to be an actual princess, to speak like us and act like us so as not to rouse any suspicion.”

A fair deal. 

You nodded, and fixed him with your steady gaze. Unbeknownst to you, the traitorous strap of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder, baring the rise of your collarbone to his eye.  

“Anything else?” 

Satoru’s disgruntled expression caught you by surprise, especially when he leaned in closer to grasp the edge of your linen strap and drag it back up your shoulder.

“Nothing. Have a good rest, princess—I mean, Y/N.” 

Turning away, this infuriating prince left you to your own devices and ruminating thoughts, your mind landing on the brief memory of his fingertips brushing your shoulder, leaving remnants of heat tingling across your skin. 

You tried hard to bury the sensation, clambering back into the infirmary bed and lying down, your gaze circling the ceiling. As you slipped off into an uneasy sleep, you were once again struck by the callousness of his words, how he had practically warned you to play pretend as Cerena while you tried to find a solution and go home. 

Act and speak and think like them. So as not to arouse suspicion.

You believed you could do that—you had to believe you could do that because your entire survival hinged upon putting on the best pretense this court has ever seen. 

Down the hallway, Satoru took a second to himself, leaning against the wall as he tried to keep his breathing controlled and even.

The memory of the firelight playing with your skin and hair, the feel of your smooth skin under the pads of his fingertips burned through his mind, scalding him from the longing he had tried hard to bury since the day Cerena’s betrayal reached his ears. 

His cheeks were still warm from the unexpected physical contact and he balled his hands into fists, struggling to keep them from shaking.

Once he could breathe without feeling like he would combust in flames, Satoru reluctantly walked away from the infirmary and you—focused on putting on foot in front of the other.

Attempting with every fiber of his being to smother the rising need to return back to your side and be with you again.

MTT fun fact: citrus fragrance is hard to obtain in northern haleway and is thus the royal family's signature scent

dawn says: thank you for being patient with this update! here's to more gojoyn shenanigans

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost, claim as your own or feed my content into AI.

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ max masterlist

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𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧)

✩ : the aftermath of the las vegas grand prix with max

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : max verstappen

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff, fluff, and more fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 0.7k

✍︎ : SO SO SO EXCITED FOR MAX, I HAD TO POST SOMETHING (i don't know if i like it tho, let me know what you think!)

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You couldn’t remember the exact moment when the tears prickling your eyes had started streaming down your face, but right now it didn’t matter. Nothing really did.

The only thing you could focus on was the roaring of the engines right across the pit lane, matching the loud thumping of your heart.

One more lap.

Just one lap, and Max would’ve been crowned World Champion for the fourth time in a row.

You brought your hands up to your mouth, squeezing them together in a silent prayer as your eyes remained glued to the little screen in the Red Bull garage. The crowd cheered as George Russell was declared winner of the Grand Prix, their screams seeming miles away from you as you still held your breath. The race wasn’t over yet.

Then, coming in fifth, Max crossed the finish line, and it felt like the world had started spinning again.

The next few minutes were a confused swirl of people shouting, hugs, and congratulating pats on the back—a river of blue suits that dragged you outside into the crisp night breeze. You ran alongside the rest of the crew, vision blurred with tears, until you reached the barrier and let out something between a sob and a laugh.

There he was.

Standing tall on top of the car with both arms thrown in the air, taking in the thousands of people yelling his name and chanting him with a deafening applause, Max had never looked so genuinely happy and excited about one of his own achievements.

Suddenly, his gaze caught yours through the visor of his helmet, and you could swear you’d seen his eyes light up. In less than one second, he jumped off the vehicle and ran up to where you were standing, his large hands immediately finding your waist as you secured yours around his neck, letting him effortlessly lift you off the ground and spin you in the air while just screaming with pure, raw joy.

Once he was done, he didn’t let you go, wrapping your legs around his torso and placing his hands on the back of your thighs to keep you up. His chest rose with every heavy pant he let out. You closed your eyes, tears still spilling from them, before resting your forehead against the cold glass of the visor and taking a deep breath of relief: finally.

Pulling away, you gently helped him take the helmet off, one of his hands quickly leaving your side to rip the balaclava off his head. All you could see was a glimpse of his icy blue eyes before his fingers firmly cupped your jaw and drew you into him, your lips crashing together. The suddenness of the kiss made you drop the helmet to the ground.

You ran your fingers through his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer, your lips chasing each other in their own perfect race, breaths intertwined in a flawless melody.

Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the blinding flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras surrounding you. You could hear the amused whistles coming from both fans and the other drivers, but you couldn’t care less. This moment was yours and yours only, and it felt so right: just you and Max, melting in each other’s arms.

When you moved back, breathless from the intense kiss, you brought your still trembling hands up to his face and traced every inch of it with your fingertips, your touch feathery, almost as if to draw a map on his glistening skin: thick, pensive eyebrows, always so focused eyes, full lips.

“You did it, Max,” you managed to whisper, voice hoarse from staying silent for too long. “Four-times World Champion.”

“Actually, this is the first World Championship I’ve really won.” You could hear the laugh in his voice, his smug expression making your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Because it’s the first one my world came to see,” he explained softly, his fingers running up to your forehead to brush a lock of hair out of your face before grazing your silky skin, his gaze lovingly locked onto yours.

You felt your eyes well up with hot tears once again, but as soon as one of them started rolling down your cheek, he was quick to catch it with his thumb and tenderly wipe it away.

“Nice reflexes, Verstappen,” you muttered against his lips, a faint smirk plastered on your face.

“Not bad for a four-time World Champion, huh?” He grinned back before closing the gap between the two of you, drunk on the feeling of your mouths dancing together.

The world around him was long forgotten. For now, the only world he seemed to care about was the one wrapped tight into his arms.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (prt 9)

Masterpost

“So where’s the brother?” Jason asked as he followed Bruce down the hall. 

“He’s in Tim’s lab. It seems like they’ll be able to share it, which is good even with as big as this place is I don’t think we have room for two mad science labs,” Bruce said with dry humour, making Jason laugh in spite of himself.

“Tim must be thrilled to have a buddy huh?” He asked, still chuckling. No one in this family was stupid by any means, he often felt like the dumb one and objectively he knew he was still a fucking genius. But even with all of them being That smart no one could keep up with Tim’s innovative and scientific mind. 

“I think he might even learn a few things, which is a frightening concept. Danny asked for microwaves and toasters this morning so he could cannibalize them into anti-possession tech. The way that boy combines science and magic is going to give both me and Constantine ulcers.” 

Jason snorted, both at the joke and maybe a bit out of pleasure that someone was going to be giving Bruce a hard time. “Well if you need a babysitter don’t call me. I don’t want to deal with any of that,” he chuckled.

“Oh absolutely not, you would only feed into the chaos,” Bruce said quickly making Jason cackle, because he was right.

“Alright,” Bruce murmured to himself when they reached the closed door to the lab, it was almost lost in the banging inside but Jason heard it. Heard Bruce bracing himself for whatever was going to happen when Jason and Danny met.

He opened the door and across the room Jason saw who must be Danny. He was prime adoption bait with his black hair and blue eyes, but he was… absolutely beautiful, slight and elven, gently curved and wired with muscle. Jason froze, and it seemed so did Danny, staring at each other from across the room. Butterflies fluttered in Jason’s stomach, building till they didn’t feel like butterflies but something buzzing, trying to get out. He could hear the growl coming from his chest, not his throat.

Danny’s eyes swirled with green and he vaulted over the work table, abandoning the half finished tech he was working on to lunge at Jason. He collided with Jason with a snarl of his own, Jason growled and flipped Danny over his shoulder, the hall was a closed space so Danny twisted, running into the wall feet first and landing in a crouch. Jason twisted so he didn’t have his back to a wall anymore as Danny lunged at him again and Jason dodged, pushing off the wall to give himself momentum as he threw himself after Danny. 

Danny grabbed Jason’s arm and used his momentum to throw him over his hip, following him down to the ground, barely missing as Jason rolled away. He didn’t even think to draw a weapon, that wasn’t what this fight was about, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other. Even as Jason punched down so hard he cracked the floor he somehow knew Danny would dodge, and wouldn’t get hurt. And Danny did, he got out of the way and lashed out in return, kicking Jason in the chest and sending him flying a few feet back giving Danny time to scramble back to his feet and chase after him.

This give and take carried them down the hall and to the landing by the stairs. Somewhere in the background Jason knew that someone was shouting at them to stop, and to be careful, but he wasn’t listening. He was too focussed on the growl emanating from Danny, and from himself which were starting to smooth out again, to feel less like desperate insects trying to escape and more like a cat’s purr, or some sort of song. They were reaching equilibrium, some sort of harmony. 

He didn’t realize how close they were to the stairs until Danny knocked him back again and this time when he stepped back he didn’t land on solid ground. The two of them tumbled down the stairs, rapidly switching who was on top as they fell. Jason could feel himself collecting bruises but he didn’t fucking care.

They came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs with Jason on top, his forearm pressed against Danny’s chest just below his throat. They were both breathing hard, staring at each other with wide blue-green eyes. The growling died down, lowering down into purrs harmonizing with each other as they caught their breath. Jason’s was lower and Danny’s a little higher, it was a hypnotic sound that made Jason feel… peaceful.

Danny moved first, reaching up slowly to touch Jason’s face, but before he could Jason realized what they had done and the position he was in. He had fought with Danny, and he was now pinning an abused teenager to the floor straddling his waist. This looked bad and now that he realized what was happening it Felt worse! He practically shot up off of Danny and was about to bolt before Danny grabbed his hand.

“Wait! Don’t go yet! Let me just, let me get you a specter-deflector so no one can possess you first okay?” Danny asked, sounding oddly desperate and even though Jason wanted to run he nodded.

Danny looked relieved and let go of Jason before suddenly flying up and through the floor above them. Jason blinked at the ceiling above him before looking around him. 

Oh dear, Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jazz were all watching from the landing above. Damian looked like he wanted to kill Jason himself, Bruce looked disappointed, Tim impassive and Jazz looked… Excited? Why did she look happy?

Danny flew back down through the floor before anyone could think of what to say. “Okay! Here’s the specter-deflector,” He said, clicking something that looked like a watch into place around Jason’s wrist. “That’ll protect you, this is a blaster,” he said, handing Jason an odd sci-fi looking gun. “It’ll reload automatically from ambient ectoplasm, it works best against dead and undead but it can hurt humans too. And.. um, this is my number,” He said, blushing furiously as he handed Jason a slip of paper. “Please text me?”

When had Jason’s mouth gotten so dry?! He had to lick his lips before he answered, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were and that he must be blushing too. He didn’t blush much, not since his death and resurrection, but he was absolutely blushing now, and he was still purring too if more softly now. He didn’t even know that he could purr, not really. “Ya, Yes, I’ll text you,” he promised before he fled the house. He would have to have some of Alfred’s lasagna later, just then he desperately needed to calm down and clear his head.

-----

Jazz was practically vibrating with excitement and as soon as the door had closed behind Jason she couldn’t contain it anymore. She squealed as she vaulted over the railing of the landing and landed in the foyer and sprinting over to Danny. “Danny what the heck! You have a crush?! I haven’t seen you that passionate in ages!” She enthused scooping Danny up under his arms and twirling him around.

“Jaaazz,” Danny complained even as he went kitten limp in her arms letting her hold him at arms length nearly a foot off the floor.

“I didn’t even know you liked boys! Why didn’t you tell me you like boys!?” Jazz demanded, shaking him a little.

“I didn’t really, I mean I always preferred girls. The only guy I ever really had a crush on was Dash and-” He cut off when Jazz made a disgusted face. “Exactly! That was never going to happen and he was an asshole so I didn’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay ya I understand- Wait you were making fun of me for having a thing for bad boys when your type is asshole meathead jocks!? Ohhh you’re never going to hear the end of this baby brother!”

“Oh my god No!” Danny groaned, finally squirming out of Jazz’s hold and dropping back to the ground stepping back. 

He turned towards the Wayne’s who had made their way down the stairs while the siblings were talking. “Is Jason an asshole?” He demands of Tim, he’s probably the fairest judge in Danny’s estimation.

“Absolutely,” Tim said promptly before realizing what he said and backtracking a little. “But I’m his brother, I'm supposed to say that. Jason’s heart is in the right place, he's a good guy, just kinda violent and a complete jerk,” Tim said. 

“Perfect,” Danny said his expression a little dreamy. 

“Why on earth would you have a crush on Todd?! You could do so much better!” Damian squawked indignantly, breaking the tension and making everyone besides Bruce laugh, and even he smiled just a little. 

“I want to say you did well Bruce, I know it was hard not to break up the fight but so? It was good for them, I hope it won’t be too hard on you if they do end up dating,” Jazz said, patting Bruce’s arm. 

He shifted from one foot to the other a little awkwardly but then shook his head. “No it won’t be, I mean it won’t be the first time, Barbra was as good as my daughter and she dated Dick, and Steph and Tim dated. It’s always a little awkward but I’d rather that than a Super,” He said, shooting Tim a look, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well good, we’ll see how this works out but really,” she turned back towards Danny. “This could be good! You’ve always been attracted to violent people but I don’t think that your ghost instincts realized that when Val was shooting at you it wasn’t bonding for her the same way it was for you,” she told him, her tone borderline accusatory.

Danny looked down and shifted from side to side, giving a little shrug. “I know, but she was a good girlfriend, when she wasn’t being Red Huntress and I wasn’t being Phantom. When we were just Danny and Val, it was good.”

“Oh Danny,” She sighed and pulled him into a hug. “I know, but he has the same instincts as you, I’m rooting for you Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz,” Danny said softly, hugging her back.

“Welp, I’m heading back to the lab,” Tim said, obviously uncomfortable with the genuine emotions he made a break for it before he could get roped into any hugs.

Next

[evilgwrl]

I love your work :3. Could I possibly get plus size female with ghost nsfw 🙏

Ofc my love! I’m sorry for the wait!

“Do you like it?” You asked, voice soft as you twirled around in the sundress. You were clad in baby blue, the neckline a complimenting V-shape as the man ogled at your cleavage, tongue automatically flicking out to lick at his lips. Your frame was curvy, complimenting the style of the fabric well as you giggled, walking over to him with a gentle bounce on your feet.

“Can’t let anybody else see you in that, can I? Might try and steal ye’ away from me,” Simon gruffed, a teasing smile on his face as he pulled you into him, burying his face in the crook of your chest before inhaling. Your smell was intoxicating, drawing him with every subtle move you made.

Your thighs were plump, wrapping around his waist as you nestled your frame into his lap, greedy hands already jiggling the flesh of your ass under his palms. “Si – at least let me take the dress off before you ruin it.”

Your skin was bare now, stuck to the sheets as the man worshipped you, gravelling in every bit of your thighs, spending extra time as his tongue lulled over faded stretch marks, the silk of them running smoothly against his mouth.

“Sit on my face, sweet’art,” he groaned, inhaling in your scent as your mouth turned slack.

“I don’t want to hur-“

“I’m not asking.”

Simon was in Heaven as you lowered yourself onto his tongue, immediate flickers running up and down your needy slit as you squeaked out a moan, growing more comfortable as he grabbed at the swell of your hips, pulling you flush against his mouth with a moan.

Your hips jutted alongside his strokes, ravelling in the pure pleasure that was strumming through you. His hands were toying with your thighs, gripping them as he groaned, slurping in the taste of your heat as you rode along his face.

Your orgasm grew continuously, boiling in your belly with praise of heat as the man below you snarled into your clit, tongue wrapped below the hood with an arrogant moan before you were gushing, clit tugged into the warmth of his mouth as you squealed, breasts jiggling with intensity as you rode out the ongoing high.

You pulled away from Simon, his mouth flushed with your juices, a lazy smile stretched amongst his thin lips. Thick hands found their way to your curves, tugging you back against the sheets as stubble grazed against the crook of your neck, teeth digging into the supple flesh with an antagonizing tease.

The Lieutenant was quick, working the slick of his pre-cum into your pussy with a squelch, catching his tip along your overstimulated nub with a short cry as you gripped onto his muscled bicep.

A string of expletives left your mouth, rolling from your tongue into the fog of the air as you whined at the stretch, the sizzling burn soaring into the fat of your thighs as your lungs wheezed. It was always a stretch with Simon, his sheer size rocking through you even when he wasn’t.

The man was greedy, plugging your cunt up with his length as he chased the sounds you choked out, high on the way your breasts melted under his hands, the way your hips felt as he gripped onto them, pounding into you mercilessly.

“So f’cking beautiful, ain’t ye?”

You whined in response, eyes shut as a hand clamped down on your thigh.

“Answer me, sweet’art.”

“Y-Yes, yes, Si.”

“Good girl.”

His pace was antagonising, bruising your pudgy walls with every thrust as a hand came down onto your neck, his grip gentle as he watched your frame move with every rock of his hips. You were a delight for his eyes only. It was almost inhumane how perfect you were to him.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, ‘lright?”

“Please-“ you choked out, your own finger rubbing desperately as your clit, your teeth nipping at your bottom lip with ecstasy as Simon’s hips began to falter, heavy balls slapping against the curvature of your ass with every movement before he choked out a groan, brows furrowed with intensity before hot spurts of cum soaked your heat, trailing his anticipation into your cervix with a forced grunt.

Your orgasm was quick to follow, clenching his length as your cunt pulsed, sloppy whines filtering through your throat.

Sex was great with you, but there was nothing Simon enjoyed more than afterwards as he pulled you flush against him, cradling in your warmth as his hands found your waist, wet kisses grazing against your spine with a nurtured tenderness.

You really were perfect.

[sweetimpurity]

❀ൄ day 29 my loves!!! we're almost to the end wahhhh wc: 1022 cw: monsterfuck, Venom 2099!! rough and messy and dirty 𑈴 ❀ ͙𑱢

“You can’t hide forever… little spider…” His slobbering voice growls. Having a leech of a symbiote like venom isn’t all bad. Taking host in your boyfriend’s body and at this point you’ve had to form a relationship with the alien as well. After all, he’s become quite fond of you. And you of him. 

Whispering filthy words in Miguel’s head whenever you walk by. How much he envies him, wants to fuck you and fill you up. How he’d love to plug you full of his dick. Even encouraging Miguel to go harder and deeper, on the off chance he lets your boyfriend go solo. Just watching you get fucked from the inside of Miguel’s psyche. 

But tonight he’s out, wanting you to himself. Blue and red and a slobbering mess. Massive muscles bulging, veins crawling up his arms, hard sharp eyes tracking your movement. Making his way around the city after you, chasing you like a little mouse. Until the abandoned building by the docks, stalking and crawling around abandoned construction equipment and the half built structure. 

You look around, you can sense him, feel him like sweat on your back. A thrilling chill and a pulse in your chest, pumping and making you feel warm. The thrill of being hunted. Knowing you’re bound to be pinned and pounded by the end of it. It ignites something in you, something dangerous. 

Venom stalks onto the open roof, climbing his way up and catching the flash of colors swinging by. Your suit. He growls, getting down on all fours and following your movements, hearing your pants as you swing through scaffolding that he just tears down. “There you are!” He slobbers, long tongue protruding out in a ghoulish smile. Grabbing onto your ankle as you’re trying to swing away. Standing at his tall height, even taller than Miguel is normally, and dragging you down, holding your squirming form in his hands as you struggle to get away. Not wanting the chase to be over but at the same time so desperate for what follows. 

“Such a pretty face…” He hisses, slobbering and his long tongue licks a sticky stripe up the side of your face. You wince, gasping, feeling his hulking form push you down on the roof. “Pretty neck…” He growls, licking down your cheek and to your throat, his many teeth giving you a rush of thrill, of fear, intoxicating, a claw coming to your suit and easily tearing down the front. Your bare chest confronted with the cold night air. Bounding free from the material and your nips perking from the chill. “Delicious…” He hisses. Licking down your chest now, slobbering and drooling all over your tits, swirling his tongue around your sensitive mounds, making you moan and flutter, dripping for him. Images mixing in your mind as your eyes close. Miguel, Venom, Miguel, Venom, Miguel…

Red glowing webs extend from Venom’s wrists, spreading over your chest and arms to keep you pinned to the cold rooftop. Biting your lip, your mind going hazy. Loving how he takes you. 

He licks down the rest of your torso, dipping the tip into your navel and making your knees draw up at the sensation. To which he spreads your legs wide with his clawed hands, dipping his face down between them.

“Mngh-ahhnhh!” You squeal and gasp, reeling from the feeling. His tongue running down your dripping pussy. Lapping at your clit and making you squirm. Wiggling around like a worm in the dirt. His smiling sets of teeth grinning at you before plunging his long tongue into your cunt. Filling you out and jutting deep. You scream. The sound echoing off the boats in the harbor and through the abandoned building you’re stationed on. 

“Oh fuck-!” You gasp, loving every moment of this. The feeling of him slobbering and drooling all over your cunt, fucking you deep with his tongue. Soon once you’ve come on him twice, he’s licking back up, slotting between your trembling thighs. A dripping mess on the metal. “Such a sweet girl… taste like… candy…” He grins hellishly, a terrifying display of teeth and the glow of Miguel’s suit in this form. He presses against you, his monster cock now free and pushing against your sex. 

Feeling the veins and girth against your core, needing it, wanting it. Drooling yourself now, after all he’s already done. He pulls back, easing into you, pushing his monstrously thick dick into you. Carefully so as not to hurt you. For all his monstrosity, he does care for you, treat you as one of his own. And he can feel Miguel reaching him in the subconscious, telling him not to hurt you. But he would never do that anyway. 

“Oh! Ah!” You gasp, relaxing yourself to accept him, stretched out even after he worked you out before. Got you ready. But nothing could ever get you truly ready to take him. Crying out as he pumps into you, fucking you into oblivion. 

Your eyes flutter back, your mind filling with images of Miguel. Your love. Desiring his touch, his caress. Almost feeling his hands on your breasts now, knowing the feeling of his hands, his grasp. Sensing his lips down your sternum and back up to your neck. Managing your arm out of one of the webs and tangling your fingers in his hair. Eyes flicking open and seeing your boyfriend’s hulking shoulders over you as you’re being pumped full. 

It is him. Both arms pull free and around him, feeling his warm skin, the comfort of his warmth. Feeling him bury his face into your neck, Venom retracting down his body and back inside, letting your boyfriend have his turn. The black veins running down his skin as he comes back into form, disappearing back inside his body except for a few tendrils that slither and swirl around your tits, rub around the juncture of Miguel’s cock in your pussy, stimulating your clit and bringing you closer. Squeezing Miguel’s back muscles as you finally come. Gushing on Miguel and Venom’s tendrils that long to keep you filled, keep you satisfied. 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[amyispxnk]

Mi Niña Hermosa

Masterlist

Summary - Javier gets you pregnant, but then he gets scared, leaving you to raise your little girl all alone. One day, he sees you working at a brothel to try and make ends meet, and realises what he needs to do.

A/N: for this ask! i hope you like it pookie<3 also please excuse any bad spanish! i tried my best with it but it might not be 100% accurate.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of sex work and sex, violence, language, pregnancy/children, arguing, brief suicidal ideation, hurt+comfort, angst, men being men

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Shh, shh, Carmen, mi amor. Está bien,” you plead with your baby daughter. She’s been up for the past hour because of yet another explosion a few blocks away. You think it was a car bomb this time, but does it really matter? All you know for sure is that Carmen is not going to let you sleep through the night because of it.

She’s almost 12 months old now, which means it's been almost 2 years since you last saw Javi. You hate yourself for it, but sometimes you look at your little girl and feel bitter. It’s not her fault, but she was the reason that Javi finally said goodbye to you.

You both knew it was a long time coming, but when you showed him a positive pregnancy test that night, you yelled at each other until your throats were raw and all your tears had been cried, before he slammed the door in your face and left you there. It was the final time you saw him.

Because of Carmen’s deadbeat father, you ended up in a brothel. It was one of the hardest decisions of your life, but you knew you had to do it for her.

“¡Muy bien chicas, salgan y ganen algo de dinero!” You want to jump out of this building, is your first thought. Crash all the way to the floor and forfeit this terrible life you’ve been ‘blessed with’. But you can’t. So you hold your head high, plaster on a smile, and walk out into the lobby of the brothel.

Your smile drops when you see him.

Of all the fucking brothels to go to, he chooses this one? The one you just so happened to start working at a week prior? That tenth-storey window looks even more tempting right now, especially when he locks eyes with you.

He’s with a man, blonde hair, blue eyes. You think that man’s name is Steve Murphy. Yes, you’ve seen them on the news. Who the fuck hasn’t? It just makes you even more frustrated. He left you and Carmen behind so that he could hunt down Pablo Escobar. He abandoned the two of you for fame.

Javi’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Steve, before he starts making his way towards you.

Hell to the fucking no. You turn on your heel and almost drag a man you noticed was ogling you for the past 5 minutes into one of the rooms, letting the curtains close behind you, separating you from Javi.

The time you share with that man is no different than any of the other men you’ve been with, all uncomfortable and gross for you, mind-blowingly good for him.

Sometimes you still think of Javi when you feel a man on top of you. He was the best you had, after all.

Outside, Javi curses loudly, drawing the eye of a few people and his partner.

“What the fuck was that, Javi? We’re here to question the girl, not chase after this random. Your dry spell that bad?” Steve laughs, clapping him on the back. Javi quickly shrugs him off, jaw clenched and gaze hollow.

“I know her.” He mutters. Yes, he knows you. He knows every part of you. Your smile, which he only saw on a rare occasion. Your eyes, which could always pierce him, see straight through his soul and see the worst parts of him. Your body, which you now sell because of him.

Steve is still yapping on about something or other whilst the storm inside of Javi swirls, growing and growing. You’re behind that curtain, selling your body. He knows why you’re doing it too, and it makes him feel even worse. He feels like he’s about to pass out as it all hits him at once.

What a piece of shit he’s been.

You don’t deserve this life. You deserve to be happy, supported and protected by someone, anyone who can help you. Not Javi though. He’s not fit to be a father. After what he’s seen, what he’s done, he could never care for something as precious as your baby.

But he knows what men are like. Knows that, somehow, he’s one of the better men in this country. It’s not a high bar to pass, this he knows too, but he figures that it must be why you have to work here to provide for yourself and his child. Fuck. He doesn’t even know the gender, the name. He wasn’t there for you at all, and he should have been.

It feels like there’s no going back though. How could he ever apologise enough or make it up to you? What he’s done is irreversible. Just from the way you reacted when you saw him now, it feels like it’ll be impossible to try to apologise to you.

He thinks of his father, his mother. How disappointed would they be? They probably already were, but with this? Abandoning a girl with a child he gave her?

They would surely disown him.

He feels like he’s been ungrateful too. After being raised by two loving and caring parents, how could he leave his own child without one? And with a life like this?

He runs a hand down his face, telling Steve to shut up. A loud shout from the man behind the curtain, surely finishing without giving you a moment of pleasure. He knows what you sound like when the sex is good. You barely made a peep in these past 5 minutes.

The man walks out, commenting on ‘how good that slut was’ as he walks past Javi and Steve, and it takes everything in him not to punch him square in the face there and then.

“I need to talk to her, Steve. 5 minutes.” Javi decides suddenly. He can’t let this go on.

“You better not be fucking on the job, Javi.”

He grunts in response, entering the room and letting the curtains slide closed behind him.

The entire world goes still, silent just for the two of you. Almost 2 years have gone by, and this is how you meet. The shame almost swallows him whole.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, before you can even register what’s happening, because he knows you’ll be ready to kick and scream to get him away from you when you do.

Unsurprisingly, your eyes well with tears, and your face twists into one of disgust.

“Why the fuck are you here.” You spit, holding your robe tighter around yourself.

“We were here for a job, and-”

“Do you think I actually care? You fucked off two years ago, I don’t want to see you back here now. Whatever it is you want, I don’t care.” You interrupt. Yes, this was going to be as difficult as he thought.

“Baby, please just-”

“Don’t fucking call me that! You don’t get to call me that!” You shout. He’s on borrowed time before somebody comes and escorts him out of here.

“Just listen to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pleads, desperate for you to listen. He doesn’t know how to get his message across to you.

Your tears burst forth, fat droplets cascading down your skin as you turn away from him.

“Go away, Javier. I don’t want to see your face ever again. I see it in her everyday and it already haunts me enough.”

His baby is a girl.

“I’m here to talk about her. I… I want to help. I’m so sorry for leaving. I got scared. I thought- I wasn’t ready to take care of something as precious as a baby… I thought you would get hurt if it was discovered that a DEA agent like myself had a child.”

“Yeah. Agente de la DEA, Javier fucking Peña,” you scoff, “who abandoned his child in pursuit of fame. To catch a bad guy. Some fucking hero you think you are.”

He can’t get angry with you. He won’t. However wrong you are about what you just said. He won’t do it.

“I don’t want fame.” He grits out. How much of an asshole is he that you thought he would leave you for fame? “I’m trying to help this country. It was dangerous enough for me to see you regularly, you know this. If I was seen with a woman and a child, they wouldn’t waste a second trying to kill you both. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I care about you. Please understand, baby.” He begs you again, hand carefully reaching for your shoulder and turning you to face him. You’re still sniffling, silent tears falling down your cheeks as you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Mírame.” He whispers, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can see your eyes.

“Please, I’m sorry.” He says. He’ll say it thousands, millions of times, it still won’t be enough, but he can see that you’re starting to understand.

“It’s been 2 years. I had to be pregnant and raise her all by myself. Not once did you check on me.”

“I was scared. I was being a coward, I know. I… I won’t be surprised if you tell me to leave again, but let me help pay for her. I don’t want you working here. It’s dangerous.” He murmurs, eyes shining with emotion as he looks into yours.

You shake your head, and he gets ready to argue about it, but you pull him closer, squeezing the air out of him and shaking with sobs again.

“I’ve needed you for so long. I- I don’t know how I managed this long. I need you, Javi.” You choke out, his heart shattering with every word until it’s laid out on the floor for you.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He soothes, running his hand through your hair.

Over the next month, he helps you leave the brothel, gives you some money to get on your feet. You still live apart, despite his protests that you’d be safer living with him, you’re not ready yet.

Today you figure will be the decider of that. He’s going to meet Carmen.

You rub your eyes as the morning sun hits you, rousing you from your sleep. The clock reads 9:37. Just over 20 minutes until your daughter finally meets her father.

The 20 minutes are spent waking and feeding her, before a knock on the door stops you.

You exhale shakily and walk to the door, opening it slowly.

“Hola, Javi.” You say softly. He greets you, equally timid. You notice he’s holding a little teddy bear in his hands, almost making you laugh at how it looks being held by this big brooding man, but you just shake your head.

“Come and meet her.” You murmur, opening the door further so he can step inside.

There, messing around on your bed, is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. He can definitely see his features on her face. The lips, the eyes. She got your nose, thankfully he thinks, and her hair is a unique blend of yours and Javi’s.

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, and you just nod, still unsure of your feelings for him right now.

“Carmen, baby, say hello.” You coo, picking her up and bringing her over to Javi. He’s quiet, scared, as always. But then she babbles at him, clapping her hands together and trying to reach for him. The teddy. He almost forgot about it.

“Hola pequeña, soy tu papá. ¿Quieres el peluche?” He says softly, waving it around a bit before handing it to her and letting her play. You and Javi talk for a bit while she sits on the bed, but then something happens. She gets tired, which is normal around 2pm, but instead of crawling to you, she goes to Javi. Carmen wraps her little fingers around one of his larger ones, curling up in his lap. The two of you still, and it shocks you to see tears appearing in his eyes as he strokes her hair, letting her sleep on him.

You decide to move in with him that night, realising that you don’t want him to be away from you and Carmen ever again.

TYSM for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

[edges-of-night]

I’m so happy you’re back I adore your writing! I wanted to request one where the reader comforts the lotr characters after they have a nightmare💕

Thanks love

This is a sweet request, anon! It turned out a bit angsty, at least in parts... I hope you’ll enjoy the read ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn frequently dreams of Narsil, Isildur, and the shadows of his ancestors. Those nightmares leave him distraught and at first even disoriented. It takes you a while to get through to him with soft Elven whispers and gentle hands to steady him. When you do, he does calm and holds onto your hand tight and keeps mumbling weakly, “Meleth nín…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Nightmares are worse for Elves than Men, due to their gift of foresight which amplifies the bad things they see in their dreams. The dark future Arwen sees at night haunts her during the daylight, too, but you are there to hold her hands and offer a shoulder to cry on. While she won’t lose hope easily, the shock in Arwen’s heart is deep every time.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir won’t tell you about his nightmares until he would start crying one morning, seemingly out of the blue. You are there to comfort him with a gentle hand on his back and all the silence he needs to collect himself, before finally opening up about his fears and the nightmares they conjured. “At least I have the certainty you would not think less of me, knowing what you know now…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

You wake by Elrond’s side when his nightmare punches him out of sleep. For long, terrible moments, he was back amidst the fires of Mount Doom, desperate lungs filled with poison smoke and disbelieving eyes on Isildur’s back. Now you can provide him with air and water to bring him back to the cool calm of Rivendell.

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･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

It has taken you far too long to wake poor Éomer from his nightmare. His feverish, sweaty, desperate face would have broken your heart had it lasted any longer. But war leaves its invisible wounds, and Éomer wasn’t spared. He holds onto you for dear life as if he was only half-way back to reality, but you tell him everything would be all right.

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･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Upon waking her from her nightmare, Éowyn draws her sword at you, staring you down with a fury you have never seen in her usually so kind eyes before. You back away slowly, speaking softly to bring her back to reality and away from whatever has been haunting her. When she recognises you, Éowyn bursts into tears, hiding her face. “Oh, forgive me! Forgive me, love…!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Childhood trauma has often kept Faramir awake, but creeping its way into his dreams was even worse. When he wakes, he needs only seconds to reorientate himself, but would then cover his mouth to not wake you with his sobs. You, of course, are not bothered but concerned by what you hear and offer Faramir to spend the night awake with him until he would fall asleep in your arms as you watch the sunrise.

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･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo tosses and turns in his sleep with big sighs and sobs which eventually wake you up. You know that Frodo isn’t an easy sleeper, but his nightmare phases still shock you anew every time. You gently wake him up to tell him everything was fine, and at first Frodo genuinely seems relieved. However, you know that the following hours won’t be easy for him, so you keep supporting him with kind words and his favourite tea, taking it easy all day.

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･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Nightmares are so rare for Galadriel that she has no way of dealing with them. They bring tempests not only to her heart but Lórien, too. You stay with her throughout and guide her back to the light in the days afterwards. She is weak but leans on you for incorrigible support. Thanks to your care, closeness, and words of affirmation, the Lady of Light can return to her normal life.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf’s nightmare has summoned thunder and lightning, keeping you from sleeping. When you try to deliver him from whatever evils keep chasing him, a magical fire flames up. When you try to touch Gandalf’s shoulder again, it diminishes, and you manage to wake him up. The storm is gone almost in an instant, and Gandalf’s face is as soft and friendly as ever. He won’t talk about his nightmare right away.

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･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

One night, you would hear quiet sobs next to you and realise Gimli was crying in his sleep. He would not wake up easy when you pat his shoulder or caress his arm, but eventually his eyes would open and he’d meet yours with a sad and tired gaze. Perhaps he would like to talk to you about his nightmares of Moria’s fall at a later point, but for now, he is content with you letting him cry without judgement, stroking and kissing his hair gently.

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･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Out of fear of giving others leverage against him, Haldir won’t tell anyone of his horrible nightmares. Since your sleep has always been light though, you notice very soon that something is wrong with dear Haldir. While he would deny your offers of comfort rather coldly at first, he eventually asks you to simply listen to his sorrows so that they no longer weigh down his heart. You know how bad the sentiment is for Elves, so you thank him genuinely for sharing it with you.

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･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

As with all Elves, nightmares are poison to Legolas due to his Elven abilities. Darkness and terror spread in his heart, and it will take him weeks to recover. You are always there to hug and kiss him – physical touch is what comforts poor Legolas the most in these times. He is as restless as ever, but you remind him that he is safe with you. “Indeed, there no fortress in this world where I would be more secure than in your arms, my love.”

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･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry always tries rationalising his nightmares, to the point where he won’t allow himself to be vulnerable and let his fear sink in. That is where you can help your poor Hobbit the most: by reminding him that you will always be there for him, no matter if it’s the middle of the night and some random “nonsense darkening his mind”. You sit down with him by a fire and talk about it all.

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･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After nightmares, Pippin is often still scared for a longer time. After helping him calm down, you make sure to light as many candles and lamps as possible. Food is also a good comfort for Pippin, which has led you to make strawberry sandwiches at three in the morning twice already. To ground himself further, Pippin would also sometimes sing to you quietly.

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･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam’s nightmares are intense but thankfully leave as quickly as they come. He usually sleeps well whenever he is with you, and you comforting him after a traumatic dream reminds him why: You take him seriously, sometimes more than he himself does, and don’t ridicule the encounters of his nightmares. Cuddles and a bit of talking usually do the trick, and the two of you fall asleep again soon ♡