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temis-de-leon · 2 months

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He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Levi and Satan (x gn!reader, separately)

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4

Main Masterlist

A/N: not very satisfied with this one, but I don't want to get stuck in writer's block forever. I will revisit this in the future to improve it, but, until then, I hope you enjoy it <3

Leviathan – He didn’t think he deserved you

Companionship from him was hard to earn; not due to pickiness, but rather fear.

Would you make fun of him when you discovered the things he liked? Would you call him a pathetic, sad excuse of a demon?

He wasn’t embarrassed about his passions, mind you; in fact, he was quite proud of them, but he knew an otaku like him wasn’t considered as attractive or interesting as others with more… normie preferences.

Take Asmo, who knew how to talk to people and profited from his appearance; or Beel, who knew how to keep his muscles; or Lucifer, whose presence was enough to call for everyone’s attention.

He couldn’t hold a candle to them, as much as the knowledge pained him, and he was sure you thought the same.

How else would you feel? You, a human suddenly lost in the Devildom with no way of surviving but proving your wit and your strength. You, who fought with tooth and nails to stand your ground and still acted with kindness towards him, paying attention to his rants, asking out of pure curiosity, keeping track of the passwords…

Falling for you came immediately after you became his best friend, but Levi couldn’t lie to himself.

There wasn’t a way in hell, heaven or earth where a possible reciprocation wasn’t fuelled by pity, no matter how much you tried to convince him otherwise.

He closed the door of his room again, keeping everyone out, hoping that if he couldn’t see your lovesick gaze anymore, then you’d find someone fitter and more deserving.

The thought pained him to no end, but really.

Levi couldn’t lie to himself.

His chest hurt, no wonder. The shape of his clothes was imprinted on his skin, sternum and ribs aching with each breath after hours of sleeping on the edge of the bathtub. He thought he’d also twisted his wrist for a moment, but the pain just came from the weight of his torso resting on top of it for who knows how long.

Levi slowly blinked as he started to wake up, a pool of drool drying next to where his head had previously been and his mouth completely dry in return, the taste of something stale and unsavoury covering his tongue.

There was a water bottle on one of the glass tables, his headphones and a half-full glass of soda, but his DDD was on the floor with his jacket. He saw a blanket there too and your scent reached him like a siren’s song.

Groaning at the rigidness of his muscles, quickly embarrassed once more of his unfit body, he pushed himself out of the bathtub and tried not to trip on the clutter around the room. Most things were his, obviously, but he also found some of your clothes and even a pair of shoes and your backpack, covered in custom pins he’d carefully designed just for you.

The image of his door closing and leaving you out of his life resurfaced in his brain. What else could it have been if not a nightmare? While he was perfectly aware you were way out of his league, Levi was also conscious about his sin and about how weak he was under its power. There was no way he would’ve survived seeing you with someone else, let alone after confessing your love to him.

Noticing your absence with a sudden wave of nausea, he wondered for a horrible second if he’d talked during his sleep and woken you up with nonsense and rejection, but there was no way you would’ve left him for that, right? You would’ve woken him up instead, offering words of comfort and reasoning.

Him knowing that fact was the main evidence of how ridiculous the nightmare was.

How could he ever forget dating you, if just for a few seconds after waking up in pure stupor? As though your mere presence in his life didn’t change him; could he ever fool himself into thinking he could go on without the chance of being with you? His dream self may have been idiotic enough to believe so, but he knew better.

Levi would never let you go.

Satan – He didn’t realise how deep he’d fallen

He wouldn’t describe himself as superficial.

Feeling wasn’t a foreign experience; hell, he was doomed to feel, but there was so much he could understand about emotions.

Why did there have to be so many layers?

Asmo fawned over himself, rejoicing in who he was, yet he couldn’t bring himself to show how deep his mind and heart could reach.

Diavolo, so prepared for political business, yet so unsure at matters of the heart, abandoned and lonely.

You, so obviously afraid of your new surroundings, yet unwilling to bend your knee and show weakness.

Himself, falling for you slowly without either of you realising. He cared for you with what he knew was fondness, respect and appreciation. After all, given everything you’d done for him and his family, there was no other way he could look at you.

You confessed to him one day out of the blue, hope in your eyes, and his heart skipped a bit; but what if that flutter wasn’t enough? What if he was reaching too far, anticipating a chapter that would never be written?

Over time, the warmth in his chest turned bitter and electric, not stimulating anymore, but painful.

Yet, he smiled at you.

How confusing.

What a stupid mistake he had made.

You weren’t with him when he opened his eyes, which only fuelled the anger his dream had caused. Frustration at the cycle, always returning to the comfort of his sin, and fear upon your absence.

The swaying towers of books covered the window and cast shadows where they weren’t supposed to be, taunting him with the presence of someone else just as he was coming to terms with the lack of your company. His stretched arm, searching for your touch, slowly returned to him and pulled him deeper under the covers.

He still felt the goodnight kiss you had given him hours ago lingering on his lips, but it wasn’t that what helped settle his uncontrolled mind.

No.

Satan didn’t need reflection to know how much his soul yearned for yours. Although intimidated by the intensity of it, he wasn’t afraid to show just how much he loved you. Also, he would be caught dead before rejecting an idea due to a lack of perspective. Exploring your relationship had been his favourite subject by far, after all.

He knew that, had his rejection been real, his dreams would’ve been filled with the never-ending hope in your eyes and his willingness for more instead.

What he had with you in what he knew was the undeniable reality, was what he would always want in any other.

He may not understand the strength of your love and all that came in between, but wasn’t that what made it all that exciting?

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion

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dovesdreaming · 1 month

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Ink and needles

You and Eddie become close when you keep coming back to him for your piercings. One day you ask for a piercing that leaves Eddie flustered though and romance follows.

I want to write a steamier version one day!

Warnings: anatomy (not gendered), piercing tools

The bell above the door chimed as you stepped into the dimly lit tattoo parlor. The walls were adorned with flash sheets and framed photos of satisfied clients showing off their ink. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic and the faint hum of a tattoo machine coming from the back room. You glanced around, taking it all in, until your eyes landed on the front desk where a man was leaning casually against the counter. He was flipping through a magazine, his wild curls spilling over his shoulders, and his black band tee showcasing worn graphics. Rings adorned his fingers, and his arms were covered in intricate tattoos that snaked up beneath his sleeves. Eddie Munson. You’d heard of him before, people in town talked about the guy who made the darkest, most intricate designs come to life. He had a reputation for being a bit of a wildcard, but everyone who came to him always left with a story.

You cleared your throat, nerves buzzing in your stomach as you approached the desk. He glanced up, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a crooked grin. “Hey there” he greeted, his voice low and rough. "What can I do for you today?". You hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Hi, um, I was thinking about getting a piercing”. His grin widened, and he set the magazine down. "You've come to the right place. What are you thinking? Something simple, or are you looking to get a little wild?". You laughed softly, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease just a bit. There was something disarming about him, the way he looked at you like you were the most interesting person in the room. "Maybe somewhere in between”. He nodded, motioning for you to follow him to a side room with a high leather chair and a table lined with neatly arranged piercing tools. You sat down, your nerves creeping back as you explained what you wanted.

Eddie listened intently, his gaze focused on you the entire time. He asked a few questions, making sure you were comfortable and confident in your choice. His easygoing demeanor helped you relax, and before long, the piercing was done with minimal pain and a surprising amount of laughter. “There you go” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "You handled that like a champ”. You smiled, genuinely pleased with the result. "Thanks. I was more nervous than I thought I’d be, but you made it easy”. Eddie chuckled, running a hand through his curls. "Well, you’re a natural. Maybe you should come back, keep me company in this lonely old shop." You laughed, not entirely sure if he was joking or serious, but something about the way he said it made you want to take him up on the offer.

And you did. You found yourself coming back to the shop more often than you’d ever planned, sometimes for a new piercing, sometimes just to say hi. Each visit brought you and Eddie closer, your conversations becoming longer, more personal. You’d talk about everything from music to movies to the strange quirks of living in Hawkins. There was an easy chemistry between you two, something that neither of you acknowledged outright, but it was there, simmering just below the surface. Eddie’s teasing became more playful, his smiles lingering a bit longer, and you found yourself looking forward to every visit just to see him.

Then came the day you walked in with a request that neither of you were quite prepared for. Eddie was at the counter, sorting through paperwork when you strolled in. He looked up, his grin spreading across his face as soon as he saw you. "Well, if it isn’t my favorite client. What’s the plan for today? New piercing? Or are we finally gonna get you started on that tattoo?". You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar flutter in your stomach that always came when you were around him. "Actually, I was thinking about getting a piercing. But… it’s a little different this time." Eddie’s curiosity was piqued. He motioned for you to follow him into the piercing room, where he prepped his tools as usual. "Alright, hit me with it. What are we doing today?". You hesitated, your cheeks heating up as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. "I was thinking… nipple piercings."

Eddie froze for a split second, his hands pausing over the equipment. He cleared his throat, glancing up at you with a look that was both surprised and something else you couldn’t quite place. “You sure about that?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than usual. You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yeah, I’ve thought about it for a while now." He nodded slowly, his usual confidence faltering as he tried to process the request. "Alright. We can do that. Uh, just… make yourself comfortable, and we’ll get started." You could feel the shift in the air as you took off your top, leaving you in just your bra. Eddie was suddenly more careful with his movements, more focused on the task at hand, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered over your skin, lingering a bit longer than necessary.

He guided you through the process, explaining everything as he went, his voice steady but lacking its usual playfulness. When it came time for the piercing, his fingers brushed against your skin, and you noticed how his touch was gentler than ever before. It wasn’t long before the piercings were done, but the atmosphere in the room had changed entirely. Eddie seemed a little more flustered, his usual bravado replaced by something softer, almost hesitant.

“All done” he said, his voice quieter as he stepped back, avoiding your gaze.

You smiled, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. "Thanks, Eddie. They look… really good”. He finally looked at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. "Yeah, well, you make it easy”. You both stood there for a moment, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. There was something unspoken between you, something that had been building for weeks, maybe even months. Before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm under your lips, and you felt him tense for just a second before relaxing.

“Eddie” you began, your voice trembling slightly as you pulled back, meeting his gaze. "I… I really like spending time with you”.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden admission, but then a slow smile spread across his face, more genuine and tender than you’d ever seen. "Yeah? Well, I really like having you around”. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a moment too long. "You know… you don’t have to come in just for piercings, right? You can, uh, come in anytime. For anything”. Your heart raced at his words, the meaning behind them clear as day. "I’d like that" you whispered, your eyes locking onto his. Eddie’s smile widened, his usual confidence returning as he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "Good. Because I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. Just didn’t want to scare you off."

You laughed softly, the tension in the room melting away. "I think I can handle it”. “Yeah?" He grinned, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. "Well, in that case, how about we start with dinner tonight?". You nodded, your shyness momentarily forgotten in the warmth of the moment. "I’d love that”. Eddie’s smile was contagious as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "Me too. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and we’ll make those dinner plans official."

And as you sat there, the cool antiseptic stinging slightly against your fresh piercings, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something much bigger than either of you had expected.

#blog #fanfiction #fandom #x reader #x you #x y/n #stranger things eddie #stranger things blurb #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson

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canthelpit0 · 5 months

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Come through

Pairing: Cocky!Player!Chris x Reader

Word count: 4.5k+

Summary: chris hand always been a player. Would that change once he becomes famous? -no.

Warnings: smut, player!Chris, influencer!Reader, party, mentions of drinking/tobacco/weed, pet names (ma, pretty boy, pretty lady, sweetheart, etc.), bathroom sex, semi public, oral m!receiving, fingering, p in v (protected), praise kink, swearing, no use of y/n, no oc, written in 2nd pov

(A/N: English is not my first language, and I always appreciate feedback enjoy! love y'all. this is heavily inspired by come through, the song.)

Chris had always been sort of a fuckboy.

And with his growing fame it wasn’t getting any better.

Chris has a huge ego. Sure people would always say him and his brothers are nice and humble, but that doesn’t mean Chris can’t be cocky at times.

He didn’t drink. He was underage, though in LA nobody really cared about that anyway. He just didn’t like drinking.

Chris and his brothers would always be invited to some random LA parties.

At first Chris never wanted to go. He didn’t like partying. He didn’t like the smell of alcohol, tobacco and weed.

However he soon came to realize that his looks and fame would get girls swooning over him.

He was being a player and he knew it. However none of the girls he’s ever been with complained.

He made sure they know that it would be a one night stand, and that he doesn’t date. And it worked for him.

★ ★ ★

You were an upcoming YouTuber and influencer. You were starting to gain more and more followers. People were starting to notice you more

You were known for your humor and your witty comebacks.

And as much as you would like to deny it, People didn’t just loved you for your personality, but they also loved your body.

You were gorgeous, To put it lightly.

So obviously when Chris saw you on his for you page a week ago, picking out an outfit to put on for some place you were going to that day, he thought you were hot.

Not that he’d do anything about it.

He wasn’t the type of guy to slide into someone’s dm’s. Because quite frankly he didn’t care that much.

★ ★ ★

But when he saw you at the party he was attending tho…

You’d been carelessly dancing. You weren’t drinking, even tho you were 21. You didn’t want to drink today. You wanted to have sober fun and hang out with your friends.

Your friends always did and said the craziest things when drunk. And watching it as the sober designated driver was hilarious.

You feel big hands being placed on your waist delicately.

You turn around to see who it was and to your surprise it was one of the sturniolo triplets.

Chris.

He’s bold for just touching you like that. But for some reason it was hot. Maybe it was just the air laced in weed that was getting to you, but you were enjoying this.

So you simply dance with him.

After a while you both leave the middle of the crowd going to the kitchen to talk. The kitchen being way less crowded than the living room of this house party.

“You’re bold.” You chuckle pointing out watching as his expression morphed into one of amusement and lust as he checks you out.

“Couldn’t help myself ma”

“Sure you couldn’t, pretty boy” you chuckle rolling your eyes at the statement.

Chris, to the public was known to be a sweetheart. But in LA, around other influencers he was known to have quite frequent hook ups. And he was known to never leave any of the girls not satisfied.

You, having moved to LA recently for your career, have heard all about it. People were ‘warning’ you, but no one was outright telling you it was a stupid idea. Because was it tho?

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing here anyway?” His goofy grin is wide as he stares back into your eyes.

His eyes are a light shade of blue, but in the lights of the party and his blown out pupils they look dark. His brown hair long, and a mess.

After people had told you about him and his brothers (And particularly Chris’ reputation), you had searched them up and watched a few of their videos. They were quite funny.

And Chris in particular seemed to not be able to take anything seriously.

“Nothing, just having fun.”

You shrug taking a sip from your red solo cup. It was filled with plain water. Chris raised an eyebrow at that.

“You’re not drinking?” He can’t help the small laugh he lets out at that. Tho he is secretly glad you’re not. This was his chance to get you in bed, but he wasn’t going to do anything with a drunk girl.

“No,” you chuckle back. “Designated driver” you raise your free hand in surrender as if it was a crime.

He chuckles at your antics his eyes trailing over your face over to your body once more.

“Eyes up here sweetheart.”

His eyes snap back to yours his goofy grin staying right where it was.

“Sorry ma, you’re just really distracting.” He smiles looking down at you.

You weren’t that much shorter than him. But granted you were wearing high heels. He wasn’t even that tall himself though.

You were wearing a tiny mini dress. One that ends right below your ass. Your cleavage being low giving him a great view of your boobs.

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You tease. You take a step closer to him, stepping into his personal space as you tilt your head up to look at him better.

His hand goes to the side of your jaw rubbing his thumb over your cheek gently as if asking for consent. You wrap your arm Around his neck pulling him down connecting your lips.

The sweet kiss turns more heated when his hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck. His other hand holding you by the small of your back keeping your body flush against himself.

His tongue graces your lips asking for entrance with you eagerly give, parting your mouth slightly so he can slip his tongue into your mouth.

You make out, your tongues tangling in each other as you simply kiss for a moment.

His tongue hungrily exploring your mouth. He leans into you more tilting your head back more, kissing you with all the lust in his body. Kissing you Like he wants to devour you.

You eventually pull apart to breath. His lips immediately meeting your jawline. He kisses down your jawline moving down to your neck to your collarbone.

“Damn you smell amazing.” He breaths out. His voice strained from the previous kiss.

“Thank you” you chuckle your hand finding its way into his messy waves. You scratch his scalp with your freshly manicured nails causing him to let out a low groan.

He pulls back slightly. He leaves a quick peck on your lips before looking at you again.

“How about we go somewhere.” His voice low and raspy. Laced with the attraction and lust he feels for you.

You just hum. He starts to drag you back through the living room, through the crowd of people. Getting to some random bathroom. He opens the door and lets you walk in first.

You immediately stand in front of the mirror, leaning over slightly to fix your hair.

He closes and locks the door behind himself. He stands behind you watching you through the mirror. You make eye contact. In this new lighting his eyes seem clearer.

He stares into your soul as you push back from the sink.

You swiftly turn around and sink to your knees in front of him.

Chris would’ve never asked. But wich guy doesn’t like head.

“So eager” he chuckles. His hand goes to the top of your head petting it gently. Before he picks up your chin, making you look up at him again.

Your head is tilted back as you look up at him through your lashes. you know he’s probably had countless woman in this same position. But it never got old for him.

And he liked seeing you like the is anyway

“You look so pretty like this you know.” He mumbles before leaning down and leaving a heated kiss on your lips.

He stands back up straight, and you can’t help the way your eyes trail to his crotch. It was right in front of your face and you were getting impatient.

Before you know it your hands go to the top of his jeans, tugging on them gently. You were asking for permission without asking.

He chuckles at your eagerness, undoing his belt, then unbuttoning the jeans and letting you slide them down.

You can already see his huge erection through his boxers. Your mouth was already watering at the sight.

You pull down his boxers fast. His length springing free, hitting his abdomen.

You flinch back slightly. You look at his length with an eyebrow raised not doing anything for a moment just admiring.

You’ve never seen a dick be this pretty. It had a thick vain running up the side. It was long, at least a good 8 inches. It was thick, not too thick, but enough that you knew the stretch would burn.

“You good?” He asks. He was clearly holding in a laugh. His hand goes to your hair, still just patting the top of your head.

“You’re sure you’re white?” You tease one hand cupping his member as you start to gently and slowly jerk him off.

“Definitely, sweetheart” he chuckles rolling his eyes at the comment. People always asked about it. Wich is fine since most people weren’t used to his size. the constant questioning was so annoying sometimes.

But the way you teased him with that sentence was just too good.

His red tip is already leaking pre cum. He eagerly waits for you to start. You press a small peck on it, while looking up at him your eyes staying locked on his.

You start to kitten lick the tip. You watch as he lets out a slightly shaky sigh at the contact.

“C’mon ma, don’t tease.”

You pull away slightly chuckling at the statement. You teasingly blow air on it, watching as he shivers. But before he can start complaining about your teasing you take his entire tip in your mouth swirling your tongue around it.

“Yeah, like that.” He sighs softly. He rubs your cheek with the back of his hand as you hollow out your cheeks to give him more pleasure.

His hand moves to my hair taking it and putting it in a makeshift ponytail. You start to take him as deep as you could, starting to slowly bob your head. Sucking and swirling your tongue. You take him as deep as you can jerking off what you can’t fit with your manicured hand.

The sounded coming from it are sinful, and so are his low moans and grunts.

When you hear his soft grunts turn into moans you can tell he’s getting close. You pull off with a pop. You stroke him gently, and then teasingly lick a stripe up his shaft.

“You like that?” You tease licking at it. He groans in annoyance. He thrusts his hips back to get more friction from your hand.

“Please keep going.”

You lick your lips briefly watching him. His eyes meet yours. You chuckle starting to suck him off again. This time you do it more vigorously and faster than before. His dick repeatedly hitting the back of your throat as you slightly gag around it.

Chris’ grip in your hair tightens as he starts to tug in it. He holds you in place stopping your movements as he starts to harshly thrust in and out of your mouth.

The sounds of your moans send sensations of pleasure through him. Every sinful sound echos through the small bathroom, making the music outside sound non existent to you two.

His cock is repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes water at the harsh feeling. You try to gag as little as possible.

“Fucking- swallow ‘aight” he breaths out harshly. You hum as best as you could. The sensation tingles through his spine. And with a last thrust you feel his cum pore down your throat. You try your best to swallow as much as you could.

He gently pulls out. His thumb rubbing the corner of your lips where some of it had leaked.

He puts his thumb on your plump and swollen lips. And without a secound thought you suck on his thumb. You blink away the tears that’d been forming.

The sight is enough to have him going all over again.

His grip on your hair had loosened, but he still pulls you up by it gently.

He turns you around, so that you’re facing the mirror your hands on the sink. Your ass presented to him.

His eyes meet yours through the mirror once more. Seemingly asking for consent, to wich you nod.

His hand starts to trail over the side of your thigh slightly under your short dress.

“Words baby”

“Yes Chris- please” you waste no time asking him. You want him to touch you where you crave him the most.

“Gonna be a good little slut now?” He teases. His eyes stay locked on yours through the mirror.

“Mhm” you mumble watching him. You feel him start to pull up your dress. He bunches it up right over your ass.

His fingers go to trail over your slick wet folds. Chris pushes the lacy thong to the side. He rubs his fingers briefly over your clit, before going to tease your cunt.

“Words, sweetheart.” He repeats, his eyes staying locked on yours. He had no problem teasing you until you comply.

“Yes-“ you get cut off by a Moan. When he slams two of his long fingers into you.

Your body jolts forward, your thighs hitting the cold sink. You grimace at the feeling.

“Wow, so sensitive?” He teases leaning over again to leave a quick peck behind your ear.

He starts to plunge his fingers in and out of your cunt. He roughly fingers you, his long fingers curl just right to hit your sweet spot.

You let out a breathless moan letting your head fall forward. You were leaning on your arms for support.

You feel his big hand wrap around your throat as he pulls you back up. “Now, now, baby watch yourself.” He teases.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me” he taunts. You flutter your eyes open. You feel his fingering get rougher as you can feel your climax rapidly approaching. You’re tempted to close your eyes again, but you’re sure Chris would edge you or something.

So you try your best to keep them open and staring at his face.

“Good girl. Yeah. Just like that.” He praises. His low words sending tingles to your core. You can practically feel yourself get wetter at how words and the sound of his voice alone.

Your wetness is loud. The lewd sounds bounce off of the bathroom walls. That along with your sweet low moans, while you try to keep yourself together.

“You like my praise honey?” He asks in a sweet tone. His words sound so innocent. Unlike the very things he’s doing to you right now.

“Yes- god” you whine, this time not hesitating to answer.

He chuckles at your eagerness speeding up his pace to give you your release. His fingers curl at just the right spots, reaching places you couldn’t reach by yourself.

“I’m close-“

“I know.” Chris grins keeping his eyes on yours through the mirror. His hand moves higher from your neck to your jaw, cupping your face roughly.

He turns your head to face him. He roughly crashes his lips onto yours. You try hard to focus on the kiss, but the way he finger fucks you has you weak in the knees. The kiss is sloppy and messy. His tongue explores your mouth as you try hard to focus.

You whine loudly. His lips catching the moan as he only picks up pace even more. He gets the hint that you’re close. And before you know it, you’re coming around his fingers.

He lets go of your face. You lean further on your arms. Your Hands harshly gripping onto the sink. You let your head fall forward as you pant harshly.

He gently pulls out his fingers. His eyes focused on the way you’re throbbing around nothing.

He sucks his fingers clean humming at the taste of your cunt on them. “Did so well for me ma” he hums reassuringly, pressing a sweet kiss on your neck.

“You think you can take another, sweet girl?” He says softly.

“Please.” Your breath out your voice shaky. You pick up your head looking at him through the mirror again.

He leans down briefly to his jeans that were still pooling down at his feet.

Chris puts his hand on your hip His eyes locking with yours through the mirror. He holds out a condom with one hand. He leans over you to leave a quick peck on your shoulder.

“I’m clean” you raise an eyebrow at him through the mirror. He doesn’t respond. “And I’m on birth control..” you trail off watching him.

He grins letting out a low laugh that seems to vibrate through his entire chest.

He presses his chest up against your back as his arm wraps around your torso. He leaves another kiss on your shoulder, trailing it up to your neck and right under your ear.

“I’m not taking any chances ma”

His voice is low and seductive. The tone sending vibrations right to your core.

“Fine for me” you shrug as you watch him lean back. His eyes lock on your ass. He licks his lips.

Chris roughly rips open the condom package with his teeth. Rolling the condom over himself fast. He was eager to get into you as fast as possible.

He hums in response, caressing your ass gently, his other hand guiding his dick through your soaked folds.

He gently starts to push into you. Letting you take the tip first. Once he feels you relax he rams in the rest of his cock.

You let out another breathless moan at the impact. Chris doesn’t move right away tho, he wants to make it last as long as possible.

“Good” he praises lowly rubbing your hips soothingly. Your body was tense, and he was waiting for you to adjust just a little bit.

You let out a shaky sigh pushing yourself back on him. He takes the hint that he can move now.

So before you realize it, he’s relentlessly pounding into you. You let out a squealed moan at the sudden intense feeling of his movements.

“Oh- fuck-“

He chuckles, and suddenly you feel a harsh slap on your butt. You wince at the harshness. Chris’ hand goes to knead your ass, easing out the pain.

His other hand trails from your waist to the small of your back to arch it more, consequently pushing you closer to the sink.

You lean over the sink. You try hard to keep your head up and look at him. But with the way he is hitting every spot inside of you, it’s hard for you to focus right now.

Chris notices the struggle. One of his hands trail from your hip, up your back teasingly. Before he grabs your hair roughly, putting it in a makeshift ponytail.

“Does the pretty girl like getting her hair pulled like a slut?”

The way he tugs on your hair, the way his sharp eyes trail over your body , and then lock on your eyes through the mirror. It’s all so hot to you.

You let out a shaky breath between Moans. “Yes-“ before you can say anything more you feel him tug harder on your hair And his thrusts becoming harsher.

His eyes train back onto your ass And the way it looks when he thrusts into you. The way his cock disappears in your wet cunt. It’s so captivating to watch for him. He could stare at that sight for hours.

“Gorgeous girl wants to get fucked like this?” He questions teasingly. Another harsh slap echos through the bathroom, But it feels so euphoric.

Your eyes close momentarily at the feeling. Before you feel him rub your ass again. Chris tugs on your hair again, to wich you open your eyes.

“Keep your eyes open and watch me fuck you”

Chris’ words are harsh. He is being dead serious. His breaths sharp and his tone laced with lust.

You only let out a mumble to wich he pulls on your hair harsher. And another smack echos through the room. You jolt forward again at the sudden impact, but this time he doesn’t ease the pain away. Instead his pace gets even rougher.

The sound of skin clapping, and the lewd sounds of your soaked cunt are loud, Creating a sinful melody.

“Touch yourself ma.” He huffs out harshly keeping up the pace. Chris keeps his fingers tangled in your hair pulling on it. While his other hand stays firmly on your hip. The harshness at wich he is holding onto you would be enough to leave bruises.

Without thinking you reach one hand down starting to rub your clit furiously, chasing your own high.

“Close” you moan as you keep repeatedly rubbing your clit. And the way Chris’ cock is hitting your cervix only intensifies the feeling.

“Come around me baby” you’ve been pulsing around him all this time. You were already squeezing him so tight. What he wouldn’t give right now to just feel your cunt squeeze him while you come.

So he keeps going. Until you let out a loud whine. You close your legs as best as you could and You clench around Chris harshly.

Chris keeps up pace. His eyes locking to your ass. Watching the way his cock disappears into you over and over. Watching the way the condom he’s wearing is covered in your slik wetness.

What he wouldn’t give to just raw dog it and feel your cum on his bare dick right now. He was tempted to actually just take off the condom to see and feel this without one.

Chris’ thrusts become more messy. But his pace doesn’t let up. Until his hips stutter and he lets out a breathless moan burying himself into you one last time.

His jaw is dropped. He moves his hand from your hip, instead wrapping that arm around your waist, holding you close. He leans over your back keeping himself inside for a moment. Chris burries his face in the crook of your neck. You both breathe heavily at your previous orgasms.

His hand in your hairs loosens. Until he fully lets go. His hand rubbing your scalp since he’d been pulling on it relentlessly.

“Did so good for me ma” he mumbles. His face stays buried in your neck for a moment.

You place your hand back on the sink again, trying to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You’d just fucked a random influencer. Some random player. But, god, was that worth it. No wonder none of his one night stands ever complained. That was fucking amazing.

You just mumble out a quick agreement.

He stands up straight. Gently pulling out as to not hurt you or anything. He takes off the condom.

But while he gets rid of it you don’t even pay attention to him. You look at yourself in the mirror. As much as you want to regret it, you can’t.

You pull your thong back into place and pull your mini dress back down.

You examine your face. Your hair was messy from the pulling, and your make up was only slightly smudged. You’d almost cried while deepthroating him, but you luckily hadn’t. Tho your mascara was still slightly smudged.

You could feel your cunt still ache.

You can see Chris pull up his pants from the corner of the mirror. And then fasten his belt back.

“You okay?” Chris asks his arms wrapping a round you. He looks at you through the mirror . His expression is soft and more caring than you’d expect. Most guys would’ve left by now.

“Mhm.” You mumble watching his expression through the mirror. He narrows his eyes at you.

“Do you regret it?” He asks softly. His tone sweet, like he is talking about something normal.

You purse your lips trying to hold back a smile. The fact that he cared to ask if you regret it or not. Everyone told you he’s a fuck boy, and that is motto is literally ‘hit and quit’. But why was he being nice then?

“No” you speak. And you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your lips.

He turns you around so you face him. He presses a quick peck on your lips. Before he leans over and grabs a random towel off a rack. He wets it slightly in the sink behind you.

And then he sinks onto his knees in front of you. He looks up at you pulling up your dress again slightly.

“What’re you doing?” You question. a chuckle leaves your lips at the sight of Chris on his knees in front of you.

He leans in leaving a soft kiss on your thigh.

“I’m not letting you walk out with your cum running down your thighs ma.” Chris laughs, he then runs the damp towel over your inner thighs.

He cleans you up enough for you to not feel so sticky anymore. He places your panties back. Then he gets up again. Chris pulls down your dress for you before placing another kiss on your lips.

He throws the towel into some laundry bag carelessly. At your curious gaze he explains. “A friend of mine is throwing this party.” He shrugs.

There is a silence for a second where you two just look at each other. Neither of you say anything. Until you speak up again.

“Do you always wear condoms when you hook up with girls?”

You ask before the words even register in your mind. And once they do a blush creeps over your cheeks.

“Yeah. I won’t wear one next time if you don’t want me too.” He chuckles. “There will be a next time?” You question.

Chris was the type to only hook up with a girl once. He probably didn’t even remember half of their names.

Instead of answering though, he leans in and kisses you. The kiss is slower, not heated like the previous one shad been.

One of your hands moves from his neck to grab his phone out of his back pocket.

You Lean back slightly. You type your number into his phone. Then you hand it back to him.

He grins at the new contact on his screen.

“I’ll see you around pretty boy.”

You smile giving him another kiss on the lips. And this one lingers. You slide out of his grasp opening the bathroom door. he watches with a goofy grin, as you leave.

You leave going straight back into the crowd of drunk influencers. Trying to search for your drunk friends that would be around here somewhere.

You know he’s a player. So you don’t know if he’ll call you. You don’t know if you’re special, and if he treated you different than others. But if it came down to it you’d at least tried.

But,

He’s not into dating.

Materlist

(A/N: I literally wrote this within the span of one day. I feel like this is probably the best thing I've written so far. Hope you enjoyed <33)

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @ecliphttlunar

#SoundCloud #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #oneshot

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lxmelle · 6 months

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The man surrounded by the theme of love…

Geto.

Gege has made several writing choices to depict Geto as someone who was handsome and loved - arguably more than any other character in the series. Maybe Gege loves him the most - not complaining at all.

More under the cut - just a few visuals I’ve collected to demonstrate this. I’m certainly not alone in noticing it and there may be others who show this much better, lol. Tag me in if you want to share!!

My post does end with a not-so brief analysis which you can skip if you wish.

Geto, despite being cursed at birth with the technique to absorb the ills of the world, the very skill that led him to fight alongside Gojo as part of the Strongest Duo - by design, each others’ counterpart in so many ways - a twist of fate led them onto opposite paths, leading to complete imbalance, one that drove him into madness.

If Geto in some ways represented Love, it is truly the most twisted curse of all which played a part in his death.

Geto witnessed the most love confessions in the whole series - I found (and stole) it off twitter/now X:

The Japanese originals seem more compelling to me:

Riko says “daisuki” whereas Yuta uses a more traditional “Aishiteru” which, is quite embarrassing of a confession, and therefore almost hints at what could be Gojo’s last words to Geto, if it directly parallels Yuta & Rika’s relationship. And that expression Geto wears when he sees Riko and Kuroi struggle with separating?

That does not look like a person who cannot sympathise and empathise with people. Geto was a person who cared too much, and in search for a way to protect those he cared for, needed an outlet and something (in this case, lesser being, the humans) to blame. He descended into a mania and much like shinobu sensui from yu yu hakusho, seemed to develop some kind of mental disorder due to being unable to carry the conflicting ideals together. The dissonance the world presented to him was just too cruel, and he himself became a weapon to defend his ideals.

Before his defection, Geto was liked by his peers:

Haibara

Mei Mei

Loved by his family for and despite his ideals:

Mimiko and Nanako

Shibuya crew liked/loved him and carried his will/beliefs even after his death, in their own ways, as family:

Miguel and Larue in the most recent chapter to date:

Translations (rough):

Larue: You and me alike, we just wanted Suguru-chan to be King.

Miguel: Yea, I followed just because it was Geto. After shibuya, I trained Okkotsu and I don’t want anything to do with the country anymore. (Something along these lines; a little too complicated for my rudimentary Japanese)

Larue: You , me, Mimiko, Nanako, Manami, Toshihisa, everyone just really liked/loved Suguru-chan.

Canonically, he was known to be handsome and popular:

Takaba

Gege’s character book:

JJK popularity poll:

I do not have screengrabs of how Manami and Larue joined, but it was said to be due to how handsome they thought he was.

Maybe he was like Rika, who did realise how she came across in her life, and manipulated people, lol. But that’s a bit of a stretch to bring that parallel/similarity in. Geto was just quite a magnetic person, according to Gege.

And in the most roundabout way:

Gojo:

“my one and only”

“Love is the most twisted curse...” “curse me a little at the end.”

“I don’t need love to satisfy me” ... “if you were there I might’ve have been satisfied”

While love surrounds Geto, the theme that follows Gojo appears to be “the strongest” cursed; he was admired, revered, feared, and disliked by many. It truly breaks my heart, to think of what he had to give up to carry the weight of this for his whole life, until the very end.

This looks like the most dizzyingly lonely picture of Gojo. It was indeed ironic to have it all but to embody what it means to have an unlimited void by being totally different.

He suffered so much for his power and to have carried this strength. The sorcerer world was practically on his shoulders. The balance was up to him; everyone relied on him. Every time he tried to protect his love (geto) it seemed to fail. It worsened each time, ending with his own demise. But of course that’s just a dramatic interpretation - I don’t really mean/believe that, but it is one way to see the tragedy between Gojo and Geto. Strength at the expense of love; it plays out with the strongest this far as those identifying with this title are plagued by loneliness and do not know love.

They met before things got twisted within themselves, between them. Even after Geto left, Gojo seemed to be looking and waiting for him - to prove his trust for him almost as if he saw through his illusions and lies. Geto was the shadow (Yin) and Gojo was the light (Yang). Only the light can see through the dark. I’ll leave the gojo characterisation for another time / to other better writers.

For now, I’ll just say that I felt that he had planned for the possibility of losing to Sukuna (with the various things we see him do between scheduling the 24th and the actual day) and if he won, he’d just carry on the plan to cremate Geto on top of saving everyone and being a good example as the strongest. Worst case scenario, he would weaken Sukuna and I guess just die on the same day as Geto - idk, maybe as a form of redemption for one of his most painful experiences in life. Who knows?

I headcanon he was relieved to pass on, doing his part to defend the world that relied on him so much, with a big bang - a really fun fight.

And I’m glad they found each other at the end - the loved and the lost.

Back to Geto:

We don’t get much insight into what Geto wanted or felt aside from a world that was better for sorcerers, those he cared about. Even at the afterlife scene, or in subsequent chapters, we only hear from others rather than Geto.

Call me biased and delusional; I believe he didn’t kill the innocent despite saying he hated them all. He loved and hurt so strongly that he hated with almost equal force. He did want to force evolution and eventually extinguish all human kind, to him: the ignorant source of suffering, but I’m glad he didn’t manage to get Rika. I headcanon that he was aware he was losing himself by defying his own principles (to kill sorcerers) for his own gain. That, and Rika with a binding vow for a life, no less, was just too powerful.

In the official character book, Geto was described as someone who told himself that he hated humans a lot, like a reminder. He didn’t kill people indiscriminately. I’m sure he was well aware of how evil he had become but he had chosen, hadn’t he? He expressed to Yuta, that self-affirmation was incredibly important in his view. And the more he interacted with the students, I think the more his humanity fought back - I mean, he was standing there crying from being so moved by what he saw. He also let Yuta heal his friends. How villainous? Or how incredibly loving in spite of himself?

Geto has been shown to lie to others too: jjk 0: described having lied to the school about the conditions for obtaining a cursed spirit, and after defecting: upon taking stage for the first time, stating that the looking the part (wearing gojokesa) was important (ie lying). At his death’s door, he also prefaces with, no matter what anyone says - why would there be a need for that if he wasn’t telling a half-truth? He sought to avenge Riko (first person at the cult he killed after calling him onto the stage + cue mic throw) and the village represented a bunch of people who he slaughtered out of rage and ignorance. I’m definitely not defending him here - his actions are reprehensible. My headcanon view is that he didn’t know how to live with himself after snapping and that was the only path laid before him, which he ardently committed to.

I just think that he held onto a form of love/humanity still- Gojo and Geto both did. Without it, Geto would’ve become the Queen of curses due to Rika (uncaring about his family, or killing young sorcerors despite witnessing the students’ bond and yuta’s selfless power of love in jjk0) and Gojo may have focused on training at all cost without embracing Geto’s principles and becoming a teacher to change the jujutsu world - he could’ve become the next Sukuna and take the title of the King of curses instead - crowning them both King and Queen - instead of both the King and Queen contributing to their deaths. Anyway, I digress...

Geto appears very mother-coded in his protective and defensive relations to the girls, but also to Riko, Kuroi, and Gojo - especially after Toji had killed them. He was so fiercely trying to avenge and defend them, but failing that had a huge effect on him. Moreover, Haibara - innocent, glowingly positive - suffered an undeserved death. It weighed so heavily on Geto, that he didn’t defend Gojo when Nanami vented about leaving things to Gojo who seemed to take it all in his stride, almost insinuating that Geto, too, had little autonomy but to carry on that cycle of curse consumption he began to loathe.

Yuki also underlined the meaninglessness of the death / sacrifice / relationship rupture / suffering. And like the novel implies: Geto was too sincere for this world. He just loved too deeply and wounds cut him too painfully. At just 17... what inner resources were they forced to develop?

He was disillusioned by the system, but respected that Gojo had a place there. This is also SatoSugu indulgent: He never once attempted to talk Gojo into joining him, despite it being the most logical choice, but Geto was the emotional and loving kind - he prioritised Gojo over his ideals / himself. This man was willing to die trying to pursue his ideals, but didn’t want to try convincing his friend even if he know it might fail. What does that say about him? I think it says he loved Gojo. And Gojo loved him.

He masked like Gojo did : the infamous “yeah I’d win” and Geto’s “I’ve made my choice” and his face fell as he had his back turned, stating that he just needed to do it to the best of his ability. This may be headcanon but it does seem plausible to me. He was under no illusions about what he had done. To love was to turn away too. To love was to let the other go. Sigh.

Backtracking a bit: When Geto encountered the twin girls, who knows what entered his mind, but there was something that emerged from being horrified, enraged, and it gave birth to new meaning. He would take control and save them - from humans and the institution that made child sorcerors die. According to Gege, he became Papa Geto. (Kenjaku is also mum-coded but the antithesis of motherly love, with the womb protrusion domain and actually bearing children.)

This is of course not limited to feminine energy, as parents, both male and female, have protective instincts. But I’m not here to go into that discourse. Just stereotypically, and loosely speaking, Geto is very Yin energy. He is a big Mama Bear. With extreme maternal aggression. We see female counterparts do this in the wild more than males. And yes, of course both male and female are protective. Both geto and gojo were protective in their own unique ways. That’s for another post. Geto would rather die than have anyone come save him. In fact, the scripture behind him in the temple goes somewhere along the lines of “death to the weak”. If he had failed, he deserved to die. His family should live.

Gojo cares for others differently. And yes we know he died whilst defending others too. He is inherently more individualistic due to what he is with his gifts and noble heritage. He is less emotional and more cerebral, the only time we saw him lose his composure was due to Geto.

He allows his students to take risks and would allow them to fight in his stead, like in jjk 0 where Toge and panda were sent to be defeated by Geto. Tough love, as Gojo admits. This is also very Dad-like in the modern sense of the word.

In my subjective experiencing of the world, it’s almost like a husband who is only really emotionally vulnerable with his wife, and is otherwise the successful businessman, dad, and whatever else he is. Geto is much like a mum that he would walk away from her husband (lol, Gojo in this case) in order to protect them in a way she deems is best. Maybe I’m a little nuts, I don’t know. (Actually I am a little eccentric, but that’s by the by).

Now this is totally just satosugu indulgent: I headcanon that Gojo also “protected” / was possessive of Geto by making a deal with Miguel since the latter said he would curse Geto if he died, lol. Especially in light of the latest chapter where Miguel said he was spared by Gojo. (And i reckon Gojo was respectful of Miguel being Geto’s family, so he spared him for that reason too). I mean, Gojo had to kill his best friend, but this was his burden to bear, you know? It’s almost sickeningly intimate to allow someone to end your suffering, and be entrusted with that too. Ugh, ouch, my heart…..

Edit: I’m reminded of that scene where Shoko reflects on loving neither of them, like Gojo, Geto didn’t want anyone to be alone anymore either. Geto said he didn’t feel happy from the bottom of his heart. Gojo felt lonely (although he said it got better at the airport scene). They weren’t alone, but probably felt it… because of the absence of their true/first love? Larue stating in the panels above that Geto wouldn’t wish for them to fight seems like a nod to what Geto believed happened between him and Gojo. Gojo raised allies - be strong, don’t be left behind. Geto a family - get along, don’t fight. Just pointing out what my take is on the parallels I’ve observed.

That ends the brief analysis portion of what I wished to convey about what appears to surround Geto. He may not have been depicted much in the series, but his presence has been felt through the eyes of many. It made me wonder why did Gege do this?

This author deliberately wrote multiple people in the verse to love and follow him (and spare him a death sentence for 10 years) despite not agreeing to his ideals.

Perhaps it isn’t Gege’s focus, understandably, to give us a lot more insight from Geto’s pov, but there is certainly some kind of narrative he is pushing to depict how this man, cruel yet kind, is somehow one of the few he seems to portray in this way more than others within the sorcerer world at the very least. That his life was somehow a tragedy that he might not have really known the love at all? I wonder what Gojo’s last words were to incite such a heartfelt reaction - well done? Welcome home? You did well? I love you? My one and only best friend? Sigh, I guess it’s a secret between them.

There are others who have written metas on Gojo and maternal energy. If I find it I’ll link it! Otherwise, search through my reblogs! So many fantastic writers and thinkers out there!

Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

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eternalsa2z · 5 months

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Her Name Is Mandi

She received the necklace as a gift. 'MANDI' it said in bold, flashy, gaudy jewelry. At first it didn't make sense...that wasn't quite her name? But as she started to wear it, she began to understand how well it fit her.

M - MADEUP

She started wearing the necklace while applying her makeup. She couldn't miss the name flashing in the mirror as she applied elegant makeup every day. It made sense - she was a high-end aesthetician after all! For some reason she recalled working towards a different goal, like medicine or something. But a little glimpse of her glam necklace and the thought would be covered up like how her makeup painted her face.

A - ALLURING

After a while, her aesthetic changed. She needed something refined and showy to match her necklace at all times. So altered gowns with low necklines and slits up the side filled her wardrobe as her head filled with thoughts of wearing feminine finery. It fit in well with her side-hustle as a hostess at a high-end club. A perfect match to how her necklace nestled between her buxom bosom, which felt bigger and better squeezed by her splendid attire.

N - NEEDY

By now the necklace never left her. Neither did the increasing sense of lust, arousal, and desire. Her head felt emptier with the necklace or a glitzy choker squeezing her neck; instead it was increasingly filled with an obsession with physical beauty, sexy wardrobes, and self-indulgent pleasure. She looked hot; so she felt hot.

Her urges grew until she gave in. She dressed in a scandalous, searing-hot red lingerie set. Constantly licked her plump, inflated, pleasurable lips. Desperately dreaming of satisfying her desires.

D - DOLL-LIKE

Her old sense was hanging by a thread, the opposite of how securely the necklace fit around her plastic form. Desperately she tried to recall who she was, her true self, until an important decision came into her empty head. It didn't matter who she used to be...now she was just a plastic trophy. Built for pleasure, designed to be paraded about, meant to be played with.

The thought broke her brain and cemented her new personality. She was a buxom Barbie. A bratty Bratz. A dumb bimbo doll. Mindlessly she stood frozen, mouth agape, posing in a sexy manner. It was her destiny all along.

I - ICON

The necklace had overwritten her identity completely. She embraced her new self, strutting down red carpets and showing off her enhanced assets. Heads would turn, faces flush, and cameras snap in an attempt to capture her perfect image in their minds forever. She was an bimbo icon yet she kept working to become even feminine, amazingly lovely, and worry-free. In other words - her own ideal!

It turns out the necklace really was a match for her all along. She was a madeup, alluring, needy, doll-like icon. Her name was Mandi. It fit her perfectly.

#bimboification #mental transformation #f2f transformation #bitchification #trophy wives #magical transformation

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queensunshinee · 4 months

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Time Of Our Lives || Part 1

Part 1:

When they were kids, Liana and Art didn't like each other. To be more precise, they couldn't stand each other. They were born in the same month, and because their parents were such good friends, they always celebrated their birthdays together. Since Art was born two weeks after her and his grandmother firmly believed that one should not celebrate in advance, Liana never celebrated her birthday on its actual date, and that was a good enough reason to hate Art Donaldson forever.

When they were 7 years old (or more precisely, he was seven, and she was seven and two weeks), Art received his first tennis racket, and Liana got a small skateboard with a Pokémon design. He cried. Of course, he cried; everything Liana had, Art wanted too. He didn't know how to share anything, and eventually, Liana was forced to let him use her skateboard whenever they met, which unfortunately was at least once a week.

"You don't even know how to ride it," she tried to instill some logic into the blonde boy. "Do you?" he asked curiously. "Not yet, but I'll learn, duh," she rolled her eyes at him. "Then I'll learn too," he shrugged and went to wash his face, returning a few minutes later as if nothing had happened.

Only those who knew Art well understood what Liana knew - he was a crybaby who was never satisfied with what he already had. His friends passed around the racket he received as if it were a chocolate cake while he continued to glance at Liana, who was trying to balance on the skateboard and nearly fell.

At the age of 12, Art was accepted into the fancy tennis boarding school he couldn't stop talking about to anyone who would listen (even those who wouldn't), and Liana was the first to arrive at the party held in his honor. She was so excited. As far as she was concerned, Art wouldn't be coming back. There was a high chance that now, with him gone, she could convince his parents that it wasn't worth maintaining him at home. He was too much of a headache, and they were too good-hearted to keep enduring his presence.

Instead of that happening, he came back with a curly-haired addition named Patrick Zweig. They shared a room at the boarding school, and now he spent half the summer with them. Every time Liana wanted to do something like go to the pool with her friends, her parents would say that the Donaldsons had a pool at their house. Every time she wanted to lie on the grass and read a book, the two noisy boys would decide to play right in front of her, until she gave up on the book and had no choice but to stare at them. It was a pity her plan didn't work, sadly Art didn't stay at his stupid boarding school forever.

By the age of 17, it was clear to everyone that Art was good at tennis. Really good at tennis. He won youth singles competitions and also did well in doubles with Patrick. Her parents forced her to attend quite a few of these tournaments.

"Li, I think you're my lucky charm," he said in front of everyone at dinner after one of the tournaments, smiling a smile that only Liana knew was malicious. Everyone melted at the touching gesture of the ultimate champion taking time for the girl he grew up with, but Liana knew Art too well. He couldn't fool her with his feigned niceness, his suddenly acquired manners. She knew him too well and knew that everything he did was always about embarrassing her and making her do something she didn't want to do. "So, are you suggesting I stop coming to your games?" she asked, taking a bite of chicken, throwing a smile of her own. Two could play this game. "You're going to be at most of my games for the rest of our lives anyway," he shrugged while Liana raised an eyebrow, and the adults around the table laughed as if they knew something Liana and Art didn't. Later, Liana sat on a chair by the pool, and Art sat next to her. She looked at him with the same expression as before, and he raised one hand in surrender. "I come with peace offerings," he pulled out a cake and two spoons from behind his back. Her raised eyebrow turned into suspicion. "What do you want?" she reached for one of the spoons. "I missed you, Li. Tell me something good," he took a bite of the cake and in response got another eye roll that made him lightly slap her hand as it reached for the cake. "You're not getting any until I hear at least one interesting story," he moved the cake as far from her as he could. "I'll just go in and get a piece for myself," she replied quickly. "There’s no more. I took the last one," he took another bite, knowing she was starting to worry about how much cake would be left for her if he finally agreed to let her have some. "I started working on my applications to Stanford," she said, and he moved the cake closer to her, finally letting her eat.

"How's it going?" he asked. They both knew Stanford was a big deal; their families had history there. Art's parents got engaged there. Everything in their lives revolved around getting into Stanford. "I'll be fine. I'm in all the extracurriculars at school, student council, and prom committees. My essay is a bit boring, needs more work, but I have a year, so maybe something will change," she shrugged and saw he hadn't eaten the last bite of the cake, leaving it for her.

"Write about your best friend and what it's like growing up in the shadow of the best tennis player in America," he said with a serious tone, and after a few seconds, he started laughing. "Write about how you miss me," he added. His laughter faded a bit as he studied her, and she went back to looking at the pool. "If I decide to lie in my university application essay, I'd rather write that I got into a modeling agency and live a double life like Hannah Montana," she replied without looking at him. "You're mean," he chuckled and stared at the pool, enjoying the silence between them.

When they went inside, Liana saw there was still half a cake left, and Art, noticing her look, just shrugged and went to talk to her dad about basketball. A year later, things got a bit complicated. Liana had a boyfriend. It wasn’t anything too serious, but he came to her and Art’s joint birthday party. Needless to say, Art and Patrick couldn’t stand him. Patrick said he smiled too much, like he wanted everyone to like him. "How can you trust a guy with a smile like that?" he asked for the third time that evening, as they stood there watching Liana talk to her parents with Jake holding her hand. "All his teeth are in place," Art responded. He felt betrayed. He felt as if tennis had betrayed him. If it weren’t for tennis and the boarding school, he would still be going to the same school Liana went to. He wouldn’t take his eyes off her, certainly not for long enough for her to have a boyfriend with a smile like that. "Do you think they’ve fucked?" Patrick asked suddenly, making Art turn his head sharply in his direction. "You think they did?" he asked back. "I don’t know. You know her better. I only talk to her on the phone occasionally," Patrick shrugged. "You talk to her on the phone???" Art asked, unable to process this new information. In his view, there wasn’t an option to talk to Liana unless she came to watch him play or their parents arranged for them to meet. The thought that Patrick and Liana had phone talks and didn’t just meet in the summer made him uncomfortable.

"Yeah, that’s what phones are for, to call people you miss," Patrick chuckled, but quickly returned to the same expression as he watched Liana and the quick kiss her annoying boyfriend gave her. "In front of her dad," they said together. Art knew her dad well. He knew that gesture wasn’t appreciated. "What do you talk to her about on the phone?" He was a bit embarrassed asking. He felt like he was losing to everyone. Losing to Liana, losing to Jake, and worst of all, losing to Patrick. "Just stuff. She called when she got accepted to Stanford, for example. I promised her I’d take her out for ice cream this summer to celebrate. And she said she stole a bottle of wine from her parents and celebrated with her friends," Patrick felt like he was rambling. He knew Liana and Art didn’t talk on the phone. He didn’t want to compete with his best friend because, well, he was his best friend. But Art had a significant advantage with Liana. He’d known her all his life. And if someone with such an advantage wasn’t making the most of it, Patrick had to step in. He had to show Art he was also in the picture. That even if they both went to Stanford, Patrick would still be around.

What none of them considered was that Liana could choose someone else entirely. That someone else might win. Come to think of it, neither of them even saw her that way. She was just Liana, the girl who was always there, in the background of their lives. And neither of them planned to change that anytime soon. Well, anyway, Jake had to disappear.

here it is. Once again, English is not my first language, and it's my first time writing in it. Hope you like it as much as I love writing it. I'd really like to hear your thoughts so don't stop yourselves from hitting the ask box ❤️

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #challengers fic #challengers

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year

Text

🖤 Yours Alone 🖤

🖤 Pairing: dom!boyfriend!hongjoong x sub!fem!reader

🖤 Genre: smut

🖤 Summary: Things get interesting when you visit your boyfriend while he's on a business trip in Greece.

🖤 Word Count: 1.1k-ish

🖤 Warnings: soft dom hongjoong, praise kink, masturbation (f), fingering, nicknames (daddy, baby, good girl), edging, the filthiest of language, and remind me if I missed anything

🖤 A/N: @sailork-pop I hope this insomnia fueled one shot satisfies your wishes to be a spoiled Joong babe who gets flown out to pretty places

Hongjoong spares no expense when it comes to you. Anything you’ve ever wanted, anything you might even think you want, is yours without question. Some might say he spoils you but why shouldn’t he when you’ve always been such a good girl? You’re his goddess. His muse. His addiction. If you want the moon he’ll pluck it from the night sky and every star with it. This time around you hadn’t quite asked for the moon. Actually, you hadn’t directly asked for anything.

You’d simply called to tell him how much you missed him while he was away on business in Greece, never expecting that he’d have you on a flight to the breathtaking island of Santorini mere hours later. With gorgeous homes carved into the towering cliffs of the island surrounded by a sea that reflects a vivid blue unlike any you’ve ever witnessed, it’s been the epitome of romance since you stepped off the plane.

But none of that is why you’re here. You didn’t drop everything to come dine at expensive restaurants or brush elbows with his friends in the fashion industry. You came to be with him. To be seen by him. To be loved by him. To be draped across the bed in his luxury suite like the beautiful creature that you are, stroking your clit through the designer lingerie he had custom-made just for you.

Hongjoong stands at the end of the bed, still dressed in the suit he wore to dinner. The one that drove you mad all night, making it impossible to focus on much else but him. He looks so good that you can’t take your eyes off of him. A feeling that’s intensely mutual. Hongjoong’s eyes are glued to you, captivated by the sight of you playing with yourself precisely as he instructed.

You make the cutest pouty face, whimpering at how heavenly the expensive silk of your panties feels brushing against your stiff clit. Hongjoong takes a deep breath, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “Aww, my girl has the prettiest little moans. Come here and let daddy see how wet you are.” “Yes, daddy” you mewl, inching closer to the foot of the bed and spreading your legs. Using two fingers he pulls your panties to the side, grinning at how drenched they are before he even gets a look at the arousal dripping from your warmth.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” he teases, his free hand reaching up to lovingly cup your cheek. Gripping your panties, he tucks them to the side, exposing every bit of your deliciously needy pussy to him. Your fingers are back at your clit, your head falling back at the jolt of pleasure you get from finally touching your bare clit. He groans, chewing at his bottom lip, his cock growing hard enough to make him regret these fitted pants.

Fuck, he wants you on his tongue so badly but that’s not a part of the plan. At least not for this round. For now, he needs you just like this, making delicate figure eights on your clit, your pussy so wet that your fingers keep slipping through your folds whenever your clit twitches from you hitting a particularly sensitive spot. “Daddy, am I doing okay?” you whine, a wave of heat washing over you. “Oh, baby,” he coos, dipping two fingers into the juices trickling from your slit, “You’re doing so well. Look at this.”

Hongjoong raises his fingers up to show how perfectly you glisten in the light. He pops them into his mouth, those few drops of you coating his tongue enough to chase off his craving. He doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves the taste of you, humming as he takes one last lick. Just knowing how hooked on your pussy he is has you teetering on the edge of your high. Your movements begin to get sloppy as your muscles weaken, your body tingling from head to toe.

Your breath hitches as your stomach winds itself into endless knots that threaten to snap without warning. “Stop” Hongjoong demands, grabbing you by the wrists and pinning your arms to your sides. You writhe beneath the pressure, slowly losing your grasp on an orgasm so close you could almost taste it. But you don’t want it, not really, unless Hongjoong says you’re allowed.

“Are we forgetting to ask permission? We can’t have that can we?” he scolds, leaning forward to kiss your inner thighs, his lips barely skimming your clit as he moves from one thigh to the other. “I’m sorry, daddy. Can I cum? Pretty please? Can you…can you make me cum?” Hongjoong releases you, kissing his way down your leg as he rises back to his feet. “I don’t know. You were doing such a good job on your own. I don’t think you need me.”

Crawling onto your knees, you poke your bottom lip out, “But I do need you. I always need you.” Hongjoong pets your hair, contemplating his answer for what feels like a painfully long time. Without a word, he kisses you on the forehead and makes his way to the other end of the bed. When he shifts to the middle of the bed, his back to the headboard, you don’t even question that the answer’s yes.

You position yourself between his legs, leaning back so that your head rests on his chest, the scent of his cologne filling your lungs. Hongjoong wraps his arms around your waist, his embrace safe and comforting. You spread your legs, knees pressing into his, back arching as his fingers sink into your core. “Joongie, mmph” you squeak at the feeling of his other hand laying flat on your clit, rubbing back and forth at the same rapid pace of those fingers rhythmically thrusting into your pussy.

“You hear that baby?” he whispers into your ear, “Still so wet. You must really wanna make daddy happy.” “I do. Want you to be proud of me.” Hongjoong picks up his pace, moving faster and faster the tighter your walls clench around him. “What? Look at how well you take my fingers, swallowing them so fucking deep inside you. I’m always so, so proud of you, baby.”

And just like that you’re seeing stars, trembling in his arms as you gush all over the bed, his fingers tapping at your sweet spot until you can’t take it anymore. You collapse into him, whimpering even after his fingers have eased out of you. Lifting you up a bit, he grabs the blanket tousled about beneath you, bringing it up to cover you as you cuddle up together.

“Hey,” he says softly, kissing you on the cheek. You smile up at him, your eyes bright and loving, “Yeah?” “I really missed you too.”

#hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez oneshot

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heich0e · 1 year

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tags: pls look away, inspired by this art by @/iinoruu, yakuza!suna/escort!reader series masterlist

The first thing you recognize as you stir from the loosening grip of slumber is that your body hurts.

An ache, tender and warm, has rooted itself deep in your muscles. Your back. Your thighs. Your hips. Just rolling over under the soft cotton sheets exacerbates the pain, makes it throb a little hotter underneath your skin.

The second thing you recognize is the familiar smell of smoke.

"You should quit, y'know."

At the window of the hotel room, Suna stands. He's half-dressed now, silhouetted by the breaking day beyond the pane of glass beside him, his trousers on but his button-up still unbuttoned—it leaves just the faintest curl of the ink that spans his arm and his back on display, a sliver of black swirling next to the divot of his collarbone, as well as the design that spans the column of his throat. He looks at you with the burning cigarette still held to his lips, and you watch as the cherry flares brighter on his inhale.

You're not supposed to smoke here. Not in a hotel this nice. But you doubt anyone will be complaining to him, or will even say anything at all, given his particular influence and his reputation in his line of work.

"I should?" he replies in his usual low tone. The corner of his mouth is ever so slightly turned up, and a wisp of smoke rushes out along with his question.

He pauses for a moment, and then stamps the mostly-unfinished cigarette out in the ashtray on the table in front of him—where it came from in a room you're not supposed to smoke in to begin with, you can't be completely sure.

You push yourself up in bed, wincing at the pain such a simple movement causes. You rub at your eyes a little, still bleary from sleep. "It's bad for you."

Suna hums.

"I didn't realize you cared."

You bite your tongue from letting a comment slip out that could get you into trouble. Instead, you flop back down into the embrace of soft cotton and feathers that the plush hotel bed provides.

"Do what you want, then," you say quietly.

He's good at that, after all.

"What I want?" you hear him ask, and let your head loll to the side against the pillows just in time to see him approach the bed. His movements are slow, unhurried—like a predator as it stalks in the night.

You don't offer him any substantial reply, just a breathy, affirmative sound.

You're lucky to have this job. Lucky to be the one that Suna Rintarou calls for so often. Of all the girls that work at the club, you seem to be the only one that's caught his eye as of late. You know that if you do something to mess that up it might cost you more than just the thick stack of crisp bills you leave the hotel with a few times a week.

You've never been the most successful girl at the club, nor the least. Your performance and popularity has always been relatively middling, comparatively unremarkable. You're not bad at the job by any means, you know what to say and do, the line you have to walk, the fantasy you have to satisfy when duty calls.

Lately that line has proven harder to toe with him.

Suna kneels at the edge of the wide mattress, leaning across the bed towards you. His shirt falls open as he angles his body nearer to your own, revealing more of the tattoo that's etched into his skin. It's always a stark, indelible reminder of just who and what he is.

"It's pretty bold of you to assume to know the things I want," he murmurs, holding himself over you on one of his arms. His other reaches down to the top of the sheet that covers you, peeling it gently away to reveal your skin.

On instinct, you grab for it, rushing to cover yourself. You realize quickly it's not your place to hide yourself from him, that it's not what he pays you for, and you let your grip on the sheet slacken, looking away as a shameful heat crawls up your throat.

He doesn't try to pull the blanket away again.

"You woke up too early," he says quietly, still hovering over you. "You should sleep, you're still sore."

You watch as his eyes trace your face in the dim light of the hotel room.

"Are you leaving?" you ask.

That same little smile appears, lifting the edge of his lips ever so slightly. This expression always confuses you, though he makes it often. There's no real joy behind it, it's a drier, almost sardonic twist of his mouth, like he knows something you don't.

"Work," he says, though he owes you of all people no explanation. "I'll leave the cash on the table by the door as usual, I won't short you for any of your time."

You nod slightly. You hadn't been thinking about payment at all.

The corner of Suna's nose twitches. It's a movement so slight that if you weren't so terribly close you might not notice it at all. There's something behind his perpetually heavy-lidded eyes that makes you nervous.

His hand, the one that had just reached for the blanket, comes up to cup your cheek. You can still detect the scent of tobacco that clings to his skin, and you've never liked the smell but for some reason you don't mind it so much anymore. He dips down, your cheek cradled in his palm, and slots his mouth against yours.

His kiss isn't innocent—no one kisses a whore chastely—but there's something about the way he's holding you that feels different. Something in the gesture that's wholly and completely him.

He pulls away, and his warm breath fans across your mouth and catches in the slickness of your lips. Your eyes flutter open to look up at him.

Something aches in your chest, different from the way the rest of your body has been left tender but no less his fault.

Maybe Suna isn't the only one with habits that are bad for him, after all.

#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

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Bonny we love everything you do! If you are up to, what about IT girl has a date and jk open a live coincidently on the same day and time so she cannot go

(Ps: Her date is an asshole and jk knows it)

You guys have really made me wanna write this... Warnings for Jungkook's internal dirty thoughts haha

First part: here

There's no fucking way he will let you go on a date with someone like sangwook. Absolutely not.

You're way too nice to say no to the guy, and he himself knows that the staff member has a certain way with words, knows how to get his way. But Jungkook has also heard the horror stories of the guy getting girls drunk until they're barely conscious, just so he can have his way with them- and he won't just sit here and let that happen to you of all people.

Not if he can do anything about it.

Jungkook and you had honestly had a great time when you eventually came over to eat the re-heated instant noodles together. He learned some stuff about you, about your interest, about who you are apart from just your job. You share a lot more interests with him than initially thought, both of you having a love for gaming and good food. And he especially enjoyed how natural you were, treating him like a normal person, not like the idol he is.

Maybe that's why he just can't let you go now.

He'd heard of the date from Sangwook himself- he'd been chatting with another female staff about you, and how he'll 'find out' if you're 'as innocent' as you apparently act. It made Jungkook feel like throwing up, a guy like that potentially filling you up with alcohol just to eat you like prey- he can't let that happen.

You've told him how you seek love, romance, excitement and something almost childish.

Exactly what he wants, too.

So he goes live, the only way he knows he will keep you there, well aware that you take your job (hopefully) too seriously to go on a date instead. He doesn't know how close you are with him yet- maybe it's a lost cause, maybe Sangwook had been the reason you'd been so hesitant with jungkook in the first place-

But he has to try.

"Hm, hello." He greets the fans, but more so you who he hopes is watching on the other side. "Its quite sudden, isn't it?" He chuckles, holding onto the iced wine in the glass mug in front of him. "Looks like a date? Ah, yes it does, doesn't it?" He grins, acting all shy.

And there it is. An angry smiley- several, even.

It makes him chuckle as he reads the comments and imagines you fuming in your home, but he can take the heat coming his way if he at least prevents that horrible date from happening. Have you already started to get ready? He wonders what you might look like all dolled up. In a short dress maybe, one that hugs your curves just right, with simple delicate straps holding it up over your shoulders. He knows you need no fancy designer shit.

He'd rip it off of you either way.

"Army.." he hums, referring to the fans, but hoping that you get the message most of all. "If you go on dates, late- you be careful, right?" He says, taking a sip of his iced wine, before setting the mug down, and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. There's another round of emojis flooding in, and he can't help but laugh.

He continues this game for almost an hour, making sure that your date was not happening, before he ends the live.

And not even half an hour later, you're in his apartment, fuming, angry, upset. But you're there, and not with him, so Jungkook can't help but be satisfied.

Especially at the sight of you in a strapless denim-dress. Short, but long enough to cover you comfortably. The fabric stretches a bit over your curves, tits looking so good but a little uncomfortable. He would just have to pull down a little, just a tiny bit, and they'd spill out, he's sure of it. He can't see bra straps.

Are you not wearing one? Interesting.

You're pushing him lightly. "You asshole!" You yell at him. "You knew I had a date! You knew it!" You complain, and he nods, a simple smile on his face, and it only angers you more. "Stop laughing!" You demand, but he just raises his hands as if to show you he's no threat, but you just reach out to push him again-

But instead he pulls your wrists towards him, wraps his arms around you, completely catching you off guard as he holds you close, trying hard to ignore your body's warmth against his.

"I'm glad you didn't go." He says, and it sounds surprisingly serious. "I was worried you might." He tells you, and you hate how good he looks, how good he smells.

"Cause you wouldn't have someone to play around with?" You mumble still angry, and he chuckles.

"I'm not playing with you." He denies, swaying you both from side to side a little. "I really am not." He says as if to make sure his point gets to you.

"And yet you still ruined my date.." you complain.

"Sangwook isn't worth your time." He shakes his head.

"Oh but you are?" You scoff. He chuckles. Again.

"I mean, you're here, are you not?" He states.

You are. And you're not sure why you're here, why you didn't at least change, why you don't want to leave just yet.

"To tell you to stop trying to ruin my love life." You snap back in defense, and he laughs.

"Then stop trying to ruin mine." He says back, making you freeze in his arms before you both detach a little. "I thought we were good? Why did you agree to that date?" He wonders, and you shrug, crossing your arms.

"He asked... nicely, you know?" You say, looking at the floor.

"And you couldn't say no." He sighs. "Because you're too nice yourself." He scolds softly.

"I just.. wanted to, you know, talk to someone. Be social. Spend my evening with something else than animal crossing and icecream.." you try and justify yourself, and Jungkook suddenly opens his arms wide, shaking his head before he hits his chest.

"Am I not right here?" He complains. "Am I just an illusion or something?"

"..no?" You wonder, and he tilts his head in irritation for a moment.

"Then why am I not an option for you?" He asks, a little agitated. "I thought we were fine last time you were here. We had a really good time, talked, fuck I thought we were going somewhere!" He complains.

"I'm just.. scared." You say, and he runs a hand over his face.

"I know." He nods. "Lets just- okay. Do you want to try this?" He asks, motioning between you and him. "Yes or no."

"I don't know-" you start, but he shakes his head.

"Not an answer, try again." He tells you, crossing his arms.

"Jungkook what if we get caught-" You start again, but he denies it again.

"Yes or no. It's pretty easy." He says.

"What's your answer?" You ask, and he throws his head back in agony. "Okay, yeah- yes? But-"

"Good, great, fuck!" He barks out to no one, before he holds your face in his palms. "Just trust me. Please." He begs, eyes sparkling in both the light of the candle on his kitchen table, and the neon colored laser points traveling all around his walls from his moodlight.

"What do you want from me?" You ask, and he smiles.

"Your love." He answers, before he shrugs playfully. "And maybe the occasional fuck on the couch if I'm in the mood-" he starts, and you hit his chest at that, though you laugh.

"So you really do just want to screw me!" You whine, crossing your arms- unaware of how you're pushing up your cleavage.

"No, baby." He shakes his head, tongue running over his lip piercing. "I don't only want to fuck you." He answers.

"Though I won't say no if you're ever offering."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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w1shb0n3z · 5 months

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Chilchuck girldad shenanigans!!! +Senshi's thoughts on mlp at the very end

(Brace yourself. This is a long one)

What's Chilchuck's favorite girldad activity? It's not doing their hair, no. That's just something he's been praised on. Being able to put his girls hair up in different styles whenever his wife wasn't around was seen as very admirable and lots of people complemented him on it. Especially non-half-foots (becuase they seem to think the father is less involved in the kids life LMAO) And though his daughters loved when their dad did their hair, they much proffered when their mom did it since it was neater

Chilchuck's favorite girldad activity (well, general girldad activity) is actually playing pretend. He seems like the type to just playfully scoff at kids he sees engaging in an outrageous, glorified LARPing session. And he is. He is that type. He thinks it's playing pretend is silly. But, when it comes to his daughters, it's charming.

He found some genuine entertainment when he was making believe with his little ones while they were young. Fully immersed in the ever complicated plot and nonsensical characters, he loved seeing the spark in their eyes and the giggle in their voices as they played out their fantasies. He'd also like to be dense from time to time just for the reaction it got. Saying things like "but bears can't fly" or "I thought you said princesses couldn't swim" be uase there's something very humorous about being scolded by a toddler

Once the girls got older, though, his favorite activities became specific to the kid.

For Meijack, his mini-me, it was teaching her his craft. For Flertom, the one that looks just like her mother, it was makeovers. And with Puckpatti, his bright-eyed youngest, it was shopping.

A little more of Meijack

She had taken an interest in locksmithing when she was young; so much so that she would often swipe a spare lock when her dad wasn't looking. Mei had proven herself to he a very crafty and tactile person. After about the 15th time, Chilchuck was tired of this and decided to improvise.

He took a nice square wooden board, sanded it down to make sure no mishaps would occur, and then attached some latches, locks, and other miscellaneous things to it. He essentially made a busy board for Mei, and she loved it. She would often be found in her room, buckling and unbluckling, messing with straps and zippers and locks and ties.

He'd make her a new board each year on her birthday; that is, until she turned 5. After that, she got puzzle boxes, and each year, they'd get more and more complex. If they were invented at the time, Mei would totally fuck up a Rubix cube on the low.

Expanding a bit on Flertom

After finding baby Fler with a face smeared with her mom's ruby red lipstick, Chilchuck knew he had a future full of make-up modeling. So following that incident, he bought Fler her own little make-up kit.

Initially, little Fler was satisfied just beautifying her own face, then showing it off to her dad; however, she did start feel like good old papa Chuck was missing out on the fun, so she pressured him into letting her put some eyeshadow on him. It was bright blue, it was messy, and it was awful to apply.

After a year or two, the make-overs got better and better. 10 year old Fler was becoming quite talented with her cosmetic skills. She'd gone from doing outlandish looks on her dad to actually finding styles that fit him and testing out new ideas on him.

What about Puckpatti?

Now I did say that Puckpatti's designated activity was shopping, but what I meant to say was haggling down prices and looking for deals. Ever since she was young, the adorable, unassuming half-foot had a knack for bargaining— even while trading toys in the playground or snacks in the lunchroom.

Chilchuck first noticed Patti's gift after she came home from school with a necklace on. ...She certainly didn't come to school with it, so it's safe to say Chilchuck was confused. Once he found out what actually happened, he did get Patri to return the necklace and focused her abilities to learning how to shop efficiently.

Patti truly did enjoy shopping with her dad. And kn occasoik they would go to different shopping centers together. Chilchuck would always get discounted tools, courtesy of Patti, and Patti would find a pair of shoes or some fruit and nealry cut the price in half. They go wandering place to place, talking and spotting the best deals, It's always a fun and productive time!

Now to Senshi

If you've made it this far, congrats! Here's your reward

Either in a modern AU, or just due some crazy magical force, Senshi finds out about MLP.

Now, would he watch this on his own? Nope. A colorful show about ponies doesn't catch his eye, so sorry.

But let's just say he ends up watching MLP. (Moslty because in this scenario, Marcille had mentioned liking the show and senshi heard it was about horses- or well, ponies)

After whatching a few episodes he's come to a few conclusions and has gained a couple of opinions.

Who's his favorite character? Big Mac

Who's his least favorite characters? Diamond Tiara, Silverspoon, Gilda, Rainbowdash, and Rarity

He does NOT fw the them.

His opinions on the mane 6 + a few more

Twilight: very uptight, but has the potential to be a leader of some kind. Not a personal favorite

Fluttershy: Thinks she needs some guidance and to grow a backbone, but is very impressed witb her connection to the fuana

Rarity: Does NOT like her. Thinks she's spoiled and prissy and snippy

Applejack: Likes her! Think she's nice and hard working and well rounded

Rainbowdash: Think she does wayyy to much. Someone needs to teach her not to be so full of herself. He legitimately didn't want to watch some of the episodes because he felt like rainbowdash was just being an ass (some with Rarity)

Pinkie pie: Too hyper for his taste. Thinks she's pretty odd

Spike: he finds the idea of keeping a small dragon as a...well, a little brother figure, to be odd. He doesn't get the fact that Spike has a crush on Rarity and thinks that the gang should treat him with more respect

Zecora: Another character he actually likes. The episode introducing her frustrated him a LOT, he actually haf to pause it becuase all that pony racism was too much for him

Luna/Nightmare Moon: He's iffy about her. Ay first, he didn't have too much of an opinion on her, but once he figured out her deal, he liked her a little. He doesn't blame her for turning evil at all

Celestia: Thinks she's USELESS. Oh my god. He's confused because she seems like she should be a queen and not a princess, but based on what she sees her do, he isn't surprised that her status is princess

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karl-jensen · 1 month

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Henry and the Great Western Fiasco, 1919

This drawing that I made on December of last year was based on Henry's old shape and who built him. To pair up with the drawing, I also made a headcanon concerning Henry's old shape and who built him and it just so happens to be related to a failed Pacific locomotive that a certain railway experimented on.

H E A D C A N O N T I M E .

The Great Bear

Our story begins in 1908 in Swindon Works when Chief Engineer George Jackson Churchward designed an experimental engine that can haul passenger and freight trains. This came in the form of Number 111, also known as The Great Bear. The engine turned out to be a failure due to some issues with its boiler, which resulted in the engine being converted into a Castle-class Locomotive in January 1924. Churchward was distraught at his optimistic ambition being turned into a failure, but when he had heard news that Scottish-born Chief Engineer Sir Nigel Gresley was going to design a Pacific Express Locomotive, he remarked with "What did that young man want to build it for? We could have sold him ours!"

Churchward vs. Gresley

Illustrations of Henry's old shape in the Railway Series featured a brass-tip on his funnel which was common on locomotives of the Great Western Railway meaning that the original illustrator Reginald Payne associated Great Bear to Henry. Hints are present as to why I made Henry a Great Western engine.

Seeing a brass-tipped funnel on Henry looked very odd to me. Doesn't it remind you of the Great Western Railway?

During the design process of the now famous A1 Pacifics of the London and North Eastern Railway, an unknown engineer sent out thieves to steal plans for Gresley's express locomotives. People say that the engineer was old Mr. Churchward who still could not recover from the failure of his experimental Pacific. A Blueprint was stolen, but it wasn't the latest design that Gresley had drawn up, but an earlier design that he drew up in 1915 when the Great War was at full swing. The drawing had a boiler that was quite small which made Gresley think about the consequences. However, a certain Swindon Engineer decided to build it to satisfy his needs. That man was George Jackson Churchward.

And so, the engine was built under the orders of Mr. Churchward. He had placed William Stanier as the technical advisor of his latest Pacific project. Stanier recommended that he redesign the engine and add a larger firebox, but due to Churchward's decisions it didn't happen. The engine was finally built in 1919 and was given a name - and that is Vanguard. However, Factory Workers would often call the engine Henry.

When Henry rolled out of the factory, he was given a nice healthy batch of Welsh Coal for testing. Great Bear wasn't pleased when Henry rolled out and thought that he'll outperform him. When the first trial run came, Henry was steaming properly while pulling a heavy train consisting of twelve coaches jam-packed with passengers. Great Bear envied him, but when Henry was put into regular passenger service, the same problems from Great Bear finally showed up when he was given a batch of regular coal. With this, Henry was deemed a failure and was planned for scrapping. However, when a Railway Director was buying a locomotive (specifically a 4-4-2 Atlantic), he received a Pacific-type locomotive in the form of Henry. His remarks were quite enraged and profanity-filled.

"I wanted an Atlantic. But that stupid, son of a bitch gave me that instead!"

— Sir Topham Hatt I, 1922

Henry was planned to be scrapped indeed, but when the Director saw Henry's sad expression, he had no choice but to give him a chance. The rest is history.

Mr. Stanier's Chance

After Henry's infamous crash with the Flying Kipper in January 1935. He was sent to Crewe Works to be rebuilt entirely. The engine was skeptical until he met a familiar face that he had seen years ago back when he was in Swindon.

"When I first met Henry at Crewe, I was very surprised to see him in such a beaten-up state. I had intentions in redesigning him prior to being built, but that impatient old man [Churchward] did not listen. Seeing him like this made me want to redesign him entirely, but would cost me plenty of money to create a new boiler and frame for him, as well as a new tender. Instead, I went for the cheaper alternative and turned him into a Black 5 instead of what was supposed to be a 'prototype' for the Coronation class."

— Sir William Stanier, 1948 Interview

Sir Topham Hatt did not have enough money to completely convert Henry into a Princess Royal or redesign him entirely. Instead, he decided to turn Henry into a Ten Wheeler. His smokebox and front wheels remained, but the trailing wheels were discarded. Everything else were parts from the Black 5, including his Tender.

"Being rebuilt entirely was a huge blessing for me, and many people sent me 'Get Well Soon' cards and flowers while I was at Crewe. My smokebox and wheels were retained while many of my old parts were scrapped or perhaps reused as spares. I now felt better after that fix up at Crewe, and I managed to share stories with Mr. Stanier, whom I first met in Swindon when I was in my old shape."

— Henry, 1963 Interview

During his rebuild, he met several Princess Royals that were being maintained. Mr. Stanier explained to him that he was the inspiration into building a Pacific locomotive.

"Seeing those beautiful engines made me want to cry, since they told me that I was the inspiration for their design. The Princess Royals were meant to be the success that Mr. Churchward wanted, but failed to achieve. I do envy him and wished that he had the patience to make his dream come true. Great Bear would have seen those beauties."

— Henry, 1963 Interview

The rest is history...

And as for the laconic version or the TLDR:

Henry was designed by George Jackson Churchward as a second attempt for a Pacific Locomotive for the Great Western Railway.

#artists on tumblr #concept art #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #ttte thomas #steam #steam locomotive #steam engine #age of steam #steam train #ttte henry #headcanon #the railway series

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gracefireheart · 2 years

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A collection of drawings I did of Bunnyblade Origins!Technoblade (along with a few friends).

First drawing (November 24th 2021) - One of the first drawings I did of o!Techno after he revealed his origin. I liked this design at the time, but later on, I decided to change it and liked how it looked more in that later design.

Second drawing (December 18th 2021) - Just a cute lil’ drawing I wanted to do of Niki and Techno where I originally was hoping for them have some fun interactions in season 3 of the origins server.

Third drawing (December 20th 2021) - Sneeg and Techno are just a fun combo tbh. The stream where these two + Phil were just having fun in the season 2 origins server is still one of my favorites.

Fourth drawing (January 7th 2022) - Tommy and Techno can be such a chaotic duo. Whether it’s them trying to screw with Phil or the two of them going on a mining trip together. It was just fun to watch.

Fifth drawing (January 9th 2022) - Tbh, just wanted to draw the meme with Techno and Ranboo lol

Sixth drawing (March 28th 2022) - Decided to redo the design a bit as I wasn’t quite satisfied with it. And eventually, it landed on a more rounded version that I liked way more.

Seventh drawing (April 9th 2022) - The last drawing I did of o!Techno, which I’m still pretty happy with. I might try and draw him again soon considering the origins server is coming back to life again, but idk yet.

Eight drawing (October 2nd 2021) - Before he chose the frog Mario goat kangaroo bunny origin, many of us had theorized that he might choose something like a wither skeleton origin (aka what this drawing is supposed to be of), which came with it’s own share of HCs and scenarios people thought up. But it’s safe to say that a lot of people loved that he chose the bunny origin instead :]

#my art #technoblade fanart #nihachu fanart #sneegsnag fanart #tommyinnit fanart #ranboo fanart

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cyberl6ve · 3 months

Text

𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐖 — 𝟒

⋆⭒˚🍊.⋆ Masterlist ⋆⭒˚🦌.⋆

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　

— STORY CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT !! —

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ : 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲, unaware of the passage of time, the three boys walked down the stairs with a playful determination in their eyes. Nick held the camera, ready to capture my reaction, while Chris gently shook my shoulder.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Chris said softly, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice as he watched me slowly stir from my slumber. Matt hovered nearby, concern etched on his face as he called out my name, “Y/N, time to wake up.”

Nick aimed the camera at my face, capturing my gradual awakening. My eyelids fluttered open, revealing half-lidded, sleepy eyes that slowly focused on the three boys standing over me. I smiled lazily, still feeling the remnants of my dreamy state. “What time is it?”

Nick checked the time on his phone. “It’s 2 pm” he said, shifting to get a better angle for filming my reaction. I sat up and stretched, groaning as the last remnants of sleep dissipated.

As I got up from the couch, Matt called out for us to head out. Chris took this opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulder, giving me a playful squeeze. “Looks like I tired you out” he whispered teasingly in my ear.

I rolled my eyes sleepily, still trying to fully wake up as Chris chuckled softly, enjoying the sight of my groggy state. “Shut up” I muttered, not quite managing to hide a smile at Chris's playfulness.

As we left the warehouse, I settled into the back seat behind Chris. Matt locked the door to the warehouse before jogging to the driver's side and climbing in. Nick followed and slid into the backseat behind Matt.

Matt turned the key in the ignition and the car started. He pulled out of the warehouse parking lot, weaving through the streets of LA.

Matt parked the car in front of the sleek, minimalistic building of a designer clothing store in downtown LA. The four of us made our way inside, stepping into the cool, dim interior. Racks of clothes lined the walls and mannequins displayed the latest trends.

With Matt leading the way, we began browsing through the racks, trying on clothes and making our way to the fitting rooms in the back of the store. Chris and I stood outside his fitting room, chatting while he changed. I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms.

Chris suddenly turned to me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “Want to try something?”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance despite the heat rising to my cheeks at Chris's provocative whisper. “What exactly?” I asked, my voice steady. Chris chuckled, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned in closer. “Have you ever been fucked in a fitting room?”

I gasped, surprised at the explicit question. Chris was always playful, but this was a new level for him. I glanced towards the fitting room doors, where Matt and Nick were still inside. “Nice try,” I said with a teasing smile, pushing against Chris’s chest playfully.

Chris chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement as he licked his teeth seductively, flashing me a grin that made my heart skip a beat. “Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in defeat. “I’ll behave myself...”

“...for now,” Chris added with a wink. I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my blush as I pushed him away gently. “So unpredictable,” I muttered under my breath, but I couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of my lips.

As I was about to reply to Chris, Matt and Nick came out of the fitting rooms, both looking satisfied with their purchases. “What do you think, guys?” Nick asked, holding up a shirt he had tried on. “I think it looks great on you,” I said with a grin.

Matt and Nick brought their clothes to the register to pay. While we were waiting in line, Chris couldn't resist teasing me some more. “I still can't believe you’ve never fucked in a fitting room before,” he said with a smirk.

I playfully hit Chris's bicep, trying to shut him up. “Shut up, you're being so loud!” I whispered urgently, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to our conversation. Chris just chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Matt and Nick paid for their clothes and we all left the store, the hot summer air hitting us as we stepped outside. As we walked down the sidewalk, Chris slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side.

We all got into the car and Matt drove us to Top Golf. Once we arrived, we made our way inside and found a bay to tee off from. The sun was slowly setting, but the heat was still intense. “Damn, it's hot,” I whined.

Matt chuckled at my complaint, shaking his head. “Come on, you're such a baby,” he teased, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s not that bad.” Chris snorted in agreement, poking me in the side. “Toughen up, princess,” Chris smirked

I was slightly taken aback by the nickname Chris called me, my legs feeling suddenly weak. Chris just smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me. “You’re a mess, you know that?” I rolled my eyes playfully, but didn't deny his statement.

Matt led us inside to the reception area, where a friendly staff member greeted us. We were directed to an open bay with our clubs already set up. The sleek, modern interior was a nice contrast to the outside heat. I watched as the others started hitting their balls, trying to get a feel for the club in my hands. Chris turned to me, his eyes dancing with mischief. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“Yes, I have,” I insisted with a slight edge of annoyance in my voice. “Prove it,” Chris challenged, moving behind me and grabbing my hips. He maneuvered me into position, his body close to mine.

I could feel his breath on my neck as he adjusted my posture. “There, that’s better,” he said with satisfaction in his voice. I felt a sudden flush in my cheeks, trying to ignore the feeling of his hands on my waist. Nick chuckled, panning the camera between us.

I caught sight of Nick filming us and my eyes widened. “Turn that camera off, Nicolas!” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down. Chris just leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Don't worry about him or the camera, focus on me instead.”

The soft, husky tone of Chris’s voice sent a shiver down my spine, his warm breath caressing my ear. I could feel his body pressed against mine, the heat radiating off him in the close quarters. “Focus on me,” he repeated, his fingers gently squeezing my hips.

With newfound intensity, I focused on Chris's words, the sensation of his body against mine. As I swung the club, the ball soared through the air, flying further than I ever imagined possible. “Whoa!” Chris exclaimed, a surprised grin spreading across his face. “Looks like someone's a natural,”

I couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at my lips as I watched the ball disappear over the horizon. Chris clapped me on the back, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Not bad, sweetheart” he teased, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

I handed over the club to Chris, watching as he effortlessly took his stance and swung. The ball shot through the air, soaring even further than mine had. “Show off,” I teased, but couldn't keep the admiration out of my voice.

Just as we were about to switch off again, Matt's voice cut through the air. “Pizza’s here, guys!” We turned to see him standing by the table, a steaming hot pizza waiting there on the table. Chris and I exchanged a look, both of us grinning as we headed over to grab slices.

As we ate our fill, we started taking turns again. I couldn't help but laugh as Nick missed the ball on his first try, but made it on his second, sending it flying further than ever.

“Not bad, Nick!” Chris chuckled. Matt was next, his shot soaring almost as high as Chris’s. I took a deep breath and focused on my swing, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.

I missed, and the guys erupted in laughter, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Sore loser,” Chris teased, poking me playfully. Before I knew it, I’d hidden myself in his back, trying to avoid being recorded by Nick’s camera.

As the sun began to set and the night air grew cooler, Matt asked me if I wanted to go. I waved my hand, indicating that I wanted to let him continue his game, too tired from the day’s events. “You sure?”

I gave a nod to Matt and he shrugged, continuing his game. I laid my head in Chris’s lap as he had his hands behind the couch, looking down at me with a gentle expression.

Chris's fingers brushed through my hair, tucking a stray strand behind my ear. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble against my ear.

I hummed in response, feeling my eyelids drooping. Chris chuckled gently caressing my face with the back of his fingers. “You look beautiful, even when you’re tired,”

My eyes fluttered open in surprise, drinking in the sincerity of Chris’s words. It was different from any compliment I’d ever received before, laced with a warmth and affection I hadn't expected. Chris’s gaze met mine, realization dawning in his eyes. “Shit, sorry,”

My lips curled into a small, enigmatic smile as I reached out, tracing the contours of Chris's face with my fingertips. I grazed the defined line of his jaw, felt the softness of his cheeks beneath my touch, the slight roughness of stubble just beginning to emerge.

Chris let out a soft laugh at the caress, his eyes sliding shut as he leaned into my touch, enjoying the feeling of my fingers on his skin. He brought his hand up to meet mine, placing a soft kiss in the palm of my hand.

I chuckled softly, watching as Chris leaned in closer to my ear, my body reacting instinctively, my breath hitching at the desire evident in his voice. “I wish I could kiss you right now,” he whispered huskily.

My gaze locked with Chris’s, drinking in the depths of his eyes, dark with unspoken emotion. Lost in the moment, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of his features, the intensity of his stare. In my mind, a whispered thought echoed: “He’s so breathtaking...”

The silence stretched between us, punctuated only by our heavy breaths. I could see the desire in Chris's eyes, and I felt it too— a pulsing need for more than just this moment. My heart raced in my chest, every inch of my body feeling heightened and sensitive.

I found myself biting my lower lip, teasing him. “What’s stopping you?” I asked, breathlessly. My eyes sparkled with a playful challenge as I waited for his response. A small part of me hoped that he would take the bait and give in to the desire between us.

Chris let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head at my boldness. “You know damn well what's stopping me,” he said, his voice low and husky. He glanced over at the camera, pointing it out to Matt with a smirk. “The camera’s still rolling, remember?”

I smirked up at Chris, unfazed by his warning about the camera. “What about it?” I repeated, my voice smooth as silk. “It’s just a little kiss. I'm sure your little fans will be okay with it.” I leaned in closer, my lips parting slightly, inviting him.

Chris's eyes darted back to mine, his pupils dilating with desire as he took in the sight of my parted lips. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You're such a tease,” he breathed out, shaking his head in amusement and frustration.

Mumbling the word "pussy" under my breath, I stood up and walked over to Matt, who was focused on filming Nick hitting golf balls. I wrapped my arm around his, snuggling into his shoulder. Matt turned to look at me with a warm smile.

Matt’s smile sent a flutter through my chest, but I quickly schooled my features into a relaxed expression. I leaned into him, enjoying the comforting warmth of his body against mine as he turned his attention back to Nick.

Chris watched my every move with growing jealousy, his eyes never leaving the sight of me pressed against Matt. I could almost feel his gaze like a physical touch, the air thick with unspoken tension.

As I felt the jealousy emanating from Chris, I couldn't help but think about the dynamics of our little game. I couldn't deny the fact that I felt used by him, a mere sex toy to satisfy his desires.

A mischievous smirk played on my lips as the devious plan took shape in my mind. If making him jealous would force him to confess, then so be it. I'd play the hard way. Let's see how he likes being on the receiving end of such tactics.

As I continued to engage with Matt and Nick, I could feel Chris's gaze intensifying. His jealousy was palpable, and I knew I had struck a nerve. The thought of winning this twisted game brought a sense of satisfaction that made me smirk even wider.

Chris suddenly stood up, his voice laced with a hint of desperation and jealousy as he declared, “Let's head home. I'm getting tired.” He couldn't take it anymore.

I let out a playful laugh, feigning innocence as I asked, “Aww, already tired? We were having so much fun just a couple of minutes ago.” My eyes sparkled with mirth as I glanced over at Chris, unable to hide the truth— he looked absolutely hot when he was jealous.

Matt, noticing Chris's sour mood, weighed in with a concerned chuckle. “Alright, alright, let's head home before he gets crankier.”

As we made our way back to the house, the atmosphere in the car was charged with unspoken emotions. Matt drove, with Chris, Nick, and I relegated to the backseat. We chatted lightly about the day’s events, but the underlying tension was impossible to ignore.

As we pulled into the garage, Chris was the first one to exit the car. He walked straight into the house through the garage door, bypassing any greetings or lingering chatter. Nick furrowed his brow in confusion and asked, “What's wrong with him?”

Matt and I shared a look, both equally puzzled by Chris’ sudden mood shift. We shrugged our shoulders in response to Nick’s question, deciding not to dwell on it for too long. Instead, we made our way up the stairs, leaving Chris and his mysterious mood behind us.

We settled onto the couch, ready to film the outro. “Well thank you for joining us today. Unfortunately, Chris had head to sleep early, so he won't be able to join us for the outro.”

Nick continued, “But we’ll see you guys soon.” He flashed a friendly smile at the camera. Matt and I chimed in, waving goodbye in unison as the camera captured our farewell.

Once the camera was down, Nick heaved a weary sigh and announced, “Well, I think I’m going to head to bed. Today drained me.” He stood, stretching his arms above his head before turning to make his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

Matt and I were silent for a moment after Nick left, taking in the sudden quietness of the room. “G’night, Nick,” Matt called out, his voice laced with a teasing tone. I grinned, chuckling softly, before settling back into the cushions on the couch.

I glanced back at the clock on my phone, realizing a few minutes had passed. I broke the silence, saying, “I should probably head home.” I then stood, beginning to gather my belongings. Matt peered at me, concern etched in his expression.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, “It’s pretty late. You can stay if you want.” He tilted his head as he watched me, clearly hinting at his own hope for some company.

I hesitated, considering Matt’s suggestion for a moment before ultimately shaking my head. “I have errands to run in the morning,” I explained, forcing myself to smile.

Matt rose to his feet, his demeanor softening as he walked towards me. He responded with a tender voice, “Well, I’ll walk you out.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of warmth in his offer. Together, we made our way down the stairs and out the front door. Under the glow of the streetlights, I walked to my car, with Matt trailing behind me, the gentle click of his footsteps a comforting accompaniment to the silence.

Once we reached the car, I opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. Turning the ignition on, I lowered the window to speak with Matt one last time. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes and said, “I’ll see you guys probably later tomorrow.”

Matt nodded in response, a small smile playing on his lips. He took a step back as I reversed out of the parkway and then watched me drive off, his hands buried in his pockets. His silhouette standing still for a moment before he turned and headed back into the house, hands tucked into his pockets.

TO BE CONTINUED…

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #cyberl6ve #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #smut

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minniepetals · 1 year

Text

cry me a river | the pawns

— summary: when pawns are used well, they are the soul of the chess. you might as well take advantage of what you’re given

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 6.4k

— warnings: none

— PART 22 / previous post / masterpost

“Why did she call you buttercup?”

“Buttercups reminded her of me,” you answer Yoongi as take your steps into Bangtan’s manor for the first time in weeks. “Bright and yellow, pretty little thing.” You pause. “And a weed in her path.”

“She was never on your list?”

“Nari had always been insignificant,” you say with arms crossing over your chest, wanting to leave it at that.

But Yoongi isn’t satisfied with the short answer. “You never told me how the two of you got involved.”

“What can I say,” you shrug, “the Vipers were our ally so inevitably, we met. I caught her attention with my face and she grew intrigued and envious.” He told you his history so you might as well entertain him with yours. Just a little though. Only a little. “I’m sure you know it better than I, your little sister—”

“She’s not my sister.” He’s quick to cut you off, stern and firm. Yoongi isn’t someone who cares too much about the things that leave people’s lips. He lets them yap off as much as they’d like, so when he does ever speak up on things, you know just how serious he is.

So you nod, sending him a tight smile. “Right, right. That little celery,” you correct yourself, “she can get a bit crazy when she doesn’t get something she likes, or when the attention is shifted away from her.”

“She’s never had her attention shifted away in the times I lived in that manor,” Yoongi says and you give him a blank look.

Small little Yoongi, probably just the same as you who never received attention and love and was just seen as nothing more than an heir who was meant to fulfill his role. On the other hand, you never saw your father loving another, or even having the ability to love at all. There’s a bit of comfort knowing your father was incapable of feeling, so he had no one to show it to and you had no one to grow envious of, even though it did take you a while to get smart about understanding him. Yoongi on the other hand had to grow up seeing his father show his affection to someone else.

He got out quicker than you though, and fled the scene before things could go downhill.

You came to a realization too late. It was your body that had to force you to “wake up.”

“So imagine what it was like when that moment finally came to her.” Up the stairs and to the right. It’s a bit funny you’re getting used to navigating through this manor like it’s your own. Once upon a time, it was yours. “The spotlight switching from her to me gave her quite the scare.”

Yoongi opens the door to Namjoon’s office and you walk in casually.

“I met her before I met you,” you say and he gives a moment of pause before following you right in when you take your designated seat, the same seat you’ve always taken whenever you walk into this room.

Namjoon’s already sitting across from you, taking a sip of coffee from his cup with Seokjin stood to his side as his second in command. Yoongi takes his position on his leader’s other side while Mingyu stays to your right.

“Do you know Alexander Larsen?” You start without hesitation, leaning back into your seat and trying to make yourself comfortable.

In truth, you will never get comfortable.

“Alexander Larsen?” Seokjin raises a brow at your question. “You don’t mean from the Norwegian mafia, do you? You’re not talking about the Kingsmen, are you?”

“So you do know of him.” You cross a leg over the other, feeling satisfied.

“You want to go after an old man?”

“It’s not the grandpa I want to go after, it’s his son.”

“Karl Larsen?” He shares a brief glance with Namjoon, expression marked with hesitation. “That’s a bit…”

You ignore his trailing comment to continue your point toward Namjoon. “I’d like to get close to gramps and I know you have connections to do so.”

“He’s a don, Y/N. A Godfather. A Norwegian Godfather,” he stresses. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.” Right from your proposal, he’s already denying his offer to help but you’re not about to back down.

“You told me I could use you as my pawn,” you remind him of the contract the two of you made a few weeks ago. “You aren’t supposed to ask me questions and force me back on my plans just because a certain man I want to go after happens to have a Godfather as his father. If I get close to Alexander, my plot against his son would be much easier.”

“It isn’t easy getting close to Alexander,” you hear a different voice coming in through the door but you don’t have to look to know that it’s Hoseok. “Going after a Godfather is the equivalent of signing off your death certificate.”

“Not to mention Alexander is linked to the Italian mafia and you know how dangerous they are.” You roll your eyes when Jimin follows along.

It feels like being scolded all over again.

“Why’re you leaving the scope of Korea?” Taehyung asks.

“Are you deliberately trying to get yourself killed?”

“I said no questions,” you point directly at Jungkook who in turn ignores it by looking away, and return to the boss who sits at the center of them all. “If you’re scared, you can just say that.”

Namjoon frowns at your words, shaking his head subtly. “I can get anyone for you, Y/N, but I don’t want you messing around with foreign mafiosos.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re trying to walk into a battlefield.”

“The whole world has been a battlefield, Namjoon, and just because this particular boss is tougher than other soldiers out there doesn’t mean it’s enough to have me back down. I’m not backing down. I want Karl Larsen dead.”

“It’s dangerous territory.” Still, he denies you the help.

You let out a frustrated grunt. “That’s what you said the last time I proposed leaving Korea.”

“Yeah, and remind me what happened last time?”

Hwang Leehyun.

A living nightmare.

You cross your arms across your chest when he hits you with that, their eyes piercing without any hints of backing down and you suddenly have this urge to punch someone in the face. It feels like being in the eyes of your father all over again, being told you cannot do this or that, that you must do that and this. Like a child who does not, who can not, make her own decisions without the permission from her parents.

“Why do you even care whether I make it out okay or not?” So you snap with a click of your tongue, anger fueling. “This is my mission and my plot against the person I want dead.” You turn to Hoseok. “I’ve already told you I don’t care what happens to me down this path I’m walking on. If life decides it’s done with me, then so be it.”

If I die, I die, you told him once and Hoseok, frustrated in his own sense, turns to your right hand man instead of facing you.

“Aren’t you going to stop her?”

When all eyes fall on him, Mingyu has to take a moment to spare you a glance. You, who shoots a glare at Hoseok for even thinking of looking to him rather than addressing you. And knowing just how you feel, your commander answers in a calm tone.

“Whatever the boss wants, I provide and clear the path to let her get through. It is not my duty to stop her, therefore I hold no protest.”

Hm. Good answer.

“Just what are you feeding your Reapers?” When Hoseok turns back to you, you send him a cheeky grin.

“Loyalty. They’ll always take my side no matter what wrongs I’ve committed.” You look at the rest of them. “You should know about that.” And a bit of awkwardness they clearly don’t enjoy too well walks in, but you decide to ignore the effect those words had on them. “Mingyu knows his place and he knows what his title entails. It’s not his job to stop me. He’s here to clear the path for me and back me up, all the while doing what he can to get me back on my feet if things start going downhill and provide protection.” You give a little pause before adding. “You should learn from him.”

“The last time we let you do what you wanted, you ended up hurt.”

You frown at Seokjin when he says that, eyes avoiding his because you know just what he’s trying to imply. That moment of weakness you had turning to him. Why did you make that mistake?

You were just desperate to find a safe haven after what Leehyun did.

“The only thing with Karl is that he’ll get out my angry side, that’s all,” you say, resting back into the seat you’re in. “The situation won’t be the same. He wasn’t a creep, just some asshole psychopath who should have minded his own business.”

You and your stubborn streak. Namjoon knows you don’t have it in you to let your plans fall to a pause just because someone declines the help you’re seeking for. So he lets out a sigh, fingers pressing into his temples. “Like Hoseok said, getting a Godfather involved in your plans is the equivalent of choosing death.”

It doesn’t matter what sort of thing Karl has done to you to earn your anger. He’s still a son of a powerful man.

“I know,” still you say with acknowledgment, unwilling to back down. “But there will always be risks when it comes to going after people, and in this case, I’m walking a fine line between life and death, but as long as I can prove my worth and show Alexander that I’m a better pawn than his son, I have a higher chance returning here safe and sound. And besides,” you intertwine your fingers into one another and have your hands sit on your lap, “when it comes down to it, you’re all great at getting out of a sticky situation. If worse comes to worst, I’m sure I can rely on my pawn’s protection. You’re not trying to go back on your words again, now are you, Kim Namjoon?”

A promise is a promise.

A vow is a vow.

The Reapers have learned to master it and have proven again and again that their pledge to you is something that is unshakable.

Namjoon asked you to collapse into him. They vowed to never let you fall.

And yet here you are now, a shattered mess of glass.

It looks like your choice of words gets to him because Namjoon’s shifting in his seat, uncomfortable, but he has no reason to say no to you now, not after you’ve brought the contract he wrote back into his face. And the past that left you scarred.

“.....I know someone who might be able to get you in contact with Alexander,” he finally says, “but it will be up to you to figure out how to get him on your side.”

The corner of your lips curls upward. “That’s all I need.”

And before the conversation can move on, Mingyu bends down to your side, whispering something into your ear. “They need you at The Academy.”

You give him a nod and uncross your legs to begin standing again. “Let’s pick up this conversation another time, yeah? You should prepare for my absence for at least a month or more. It won’t be easy getting close to a Godfather, after all.”

And with that, you walk off with Mingyu tailing along, leaving the seven of them still unsure about all of this.

“Sunoo refuses to sleep, my lady. I used to wake up to him trashing in his sleep and having to force him to wake up and ask him what was wrong but he never tells me anything. Now, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I just see Sunoo on his bed, wide awake. The teachers and I have tried to help but…nothing’s helping him.”

Jungho stands with his head lowered as he fiddles around with his fingers, those little shoulders of his trembling slightly, and when you look at the headmaster for confirmation, she simply nods.

“So you asked the headmaster to call for me, yes?” The little boy nods at your question. “And why is that, Jungho? Why do you believe I can be of help?”

“I-I don’t know, my lady,” he answers truthfully, “but…Sunoo is my best friend and…and I want to help him get better so I thought…I thought that you would have a higher chance at helping than I.”

“You believe that I, someone who doesn’t know him quite as nearly as you do, who has spent years growing up with him, can be of better assistance?”

Jungho nods again. “Because..”

“Because?”

“When he did sleep…Sunoo used to call for your name.”

A droplet falls onto the floor where his feet stands, then another is quick to follow along, but Jungho keeps his head buried against his chest so that all you can see is the back of his hair. So you give Mingyu a look and he nods in return, turning to the child with a hand on his shoulder to lead him away while you head for the dorm the two of them have been assigned to.

Sunoo sits with a blank stare when you enter the room and shut the door behind you. Under the little boy’s eyes are dark bags that shouldn’t be there. He looks worse than the last time you saw him, a little daintier, not quite as skinny as he used to be when he worked under Ying but he might as well be getting back to that stage.

To that little child who was all skin and bones, his clothes too baggy for him when he’d look up at you determined and unwilling to give up hope.

He’s grown since then, putting on some meat, cheeks less hollowed, and a little more life in his physique, but that little spark of hope he had in him is dim. He hasn’t even realized you’ve walked in and Sunoo is someone who’s been taught to stay on high alert due to the fear instilled in him.

You’ve been trying to heal these children but just what are you doing if he’s still like this?

“Sunoo.”

When you call his name, he looks up with a slow reaction, though his eyes widen at the sight of you as expected. “My lady?” His voice is small and when he goes to shuffle from his bed to reach the floor, his legs give in underneath him when he tries to get to you.

You grab ahold of him before he can hurt his knees, picking him up effortlessly and setting him back onto the bed. He sits there with wide eyes searching for something, little fingers gripping onto the sleeve of your shirt a little too tight it turns white.

There is fear in his eyes, you realize.

The fear you never got to see when he hid them in that room the two of you were in because he wanted to be brave, because he wanted to uphold the promise he gave unto you.

A child shouldn’t have gone through that.

“When was the last time you’d eaten?” You ask him, knowing that asking him if he’s eaten at all is dumb because it’s clear he hasn’t eaten in a while. You take the hands that balled onto you, placing them onto one another in his lap but knowing not to let it go. It probably gives him comfort knowing he can physically touch you.

“I…” His voice shakes so he’s quick to shut himself up with his teeth biting onto his lower lip. It quivers so he lowers his head and you give him the privacy by standing from the floor to sit beside him on the bed instead.

He keeps himself as silent as he can, and you watch the way he struggles, the way those little shoulders tremble in the way Jungho had and the way you remember the rest of them did when you rescued them that night.

Hiding. Hiding.

All for you.

You feel some sort of hatred boiling within you because you know that all this hiding is for you and you hate yourself for doing this to them.

“Do you know something, Sunoo?” You let one hand remain holding his while the other reaches behind to rub along his back. “There is nothing in this world that will make me hate you for crying.”

He remains quiet but there’s a little jostle in his body when you say that. As if he’s surprised, as if he can’t believe you’d just said that.

“Do you believe crying is a sign of weakness?” You ask him and he gives you a small, honest nod. “Why do you believe that, Sunoo?”

“Because you hate it.”

Of course the reason comes back down to you. You’ve instilled something in them your father instilled in you. That crying is weak, that loving is dumb, that emotions must never be revealed to another because no one will care for you if you fail at these three tasks.

You’re becoming your father.

You want to punch the wall, kick something, anything, shoot a bullet into someone’s head, bring out a knife, and stab it into something. Anything.

But you know not to, not before a child, so rather than wanting to take out your anger onto something, you let yourself seek peace in the child.

You cup Sunoo’s face and force him to turn your way so that he cannot hide, so that you can allow yourself to see the tears that splash onto those eyes of his, and when they fall out from the corners of his eyes and you see the way he watches with surprise and redness in his pupils and on his cheeks and nose and lips, you press your forehead against his, forcing him to stop running away.

“There is nothing in this world that will make me hate you for crying,” you repeat your words to him once again because it’s hard. It’s hard trying to find any other words to comfort him because you’re bad at it, because you don’t know how to do it without giving a part of yourself to him. “You are seven, Sunoo. You are supposed to cry when something hurts you.”

“...” You see the way his lips quiver rapidly before he allows more tears to form along his waterline and inevitably fall.

“Do not bite your lips, you will hurt yourself.” He tries to remain silent but you refuse to let him, swiping a finger to let him loosen up, and with your permission, Sunoo cries as a child should.

He voices his frustrations, lets out the screams he’s been holding in, and cries as loud as he can while you hold him in your arms, covering his head into your chest so that he can still feel your presence and know that you aren’t going anywhere. That you’re accepting him. That he doesn’t need to hide from you.

Have you ever cried like this?

So loud and broken?

You did once. So many times. So many years ago.

When you were scared and frightened. When you had Mister Butler there to hold onto you when you needed to let the tears out.

“Do not bite your lips, you will bleed.”

He was the one who taught you that it was okay to let it all out when you cried, that it was okay to be loud, that you didn’t have to fear anyone hearing you.

It feels like a distant dream more than anything, however, because ever since the first few days of being sent to the White Room after Mister Butler died, you had let the fear return to haunt you once again. The fear of being loud. Succumbing to the silence.

Fearing the noise.

“You were gone, my lady.” Sunoo’s voice allows you to return to reality. “You were..you were dead, my lady.”

“...Was I?”

“I dreamt it,” his voice croaks. “She killed you.” So those were the nightmares that feared him into refusing to sleep when he needed it. He dreamt of your death, of him being unable to get you out of that situation.

You admit if it weren’t for Yoongi, Nari would have most definitely snapped and actually ended you right then and there. Yoongi saved your life and lost an eye as a result.

“I’m right here, Sunoo. I’m still alive.” You make sure he knows when you squeeze over his body a little tighter.

Sunoo leans in closer, nuzzling into your embrace.

“I-I know but…but the sun will set again and you’ll leave and…and what if that gentleman hadn’t been there with us? You would have…you could have…”

A sun setting.

The darkness.

The dreaded darkness.

You know just how Sunoo feels because you still fear the darkness. You still hate it when the sun sets because it means absolute darkness until the sun decides to rise again hours later. Hours that feel like days and weeks and months and years. Hours that seem to tick like the seconds are running a year too late. Hours that have you staring straight at the ticking clock, begging it to go faster and faster but it never seems to go as you ask.

That’s why all the clocks in the manor have been either destroyed or thrown away.

Living with your father still alive, you were unable to do things your way but ever since his death, you’ve reorganized lots and lots of things to accommodate your wants and needs.

The clocks are all gone.

“Do you want to come to Norway with me?”

Sunoo looks up suddenly at the suggestion, his brows furrowed with disbelief and for a second you want to take it back because you know it’s a bad idea. You’re there to kill someone after all, to exact your revenge, and having Sunoo in that environment won’t be good.

But this child needs you and he needs the light.

“Northern Norway is a country where the sun does not set during summertime, so you do not have to fear for the darkness.” Once upon a time, you spoke of a wish to visit the Land of the Midnight Sun. Norway. It’s funny the way things are piecing together, funny how no matter how much you want to run away from your past, it always seems to catch up to you. “Jungho will come as well, so you do not have to be alone and so he does not have to sleep here by himself.”

“And the others?” He always thinks of the others. Sunoo is a big brother to all the kids and he keeps strong for them so you know he must be worrying about them feeling left out but this is a foreign country you’re visiting to exact revenge. The less kids, the better.

“They will have to stay. Norway will be dangerous, Sunoo,” you tell him half the truth, not wanting to be too transparent but knowing that letting him believe this will be nothing but a vacation and letting him stay naive will not be good for him.

Kids have to know. The more aware they are, the better prepared they will be.

“But maybe in the future, I can allow for field trips in The Academy.”

“Really?” He sounds a bit brighter at the thought.

“Only if I can get stronger,” you tell him. “Though that may or may not happen and if it does, it will be in the far future.”

“Why do you say that, my lady?”

You wipe the tears from his face when he appears to be calming down. “Because there are still a lot of people who underestimate me or see me as a threat and wish to do something about it.”

“Like that lady?”

“Like that lady.” You take the tissue box from his nightstand to hand it to him and watch as he goes on to blow his nose. “So until people learn not to mess around with me, until my name alone brings fear to them, you’ll have to wait to be allowed to do whatever you want.”

“..Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.” You press a hand to his head, smoothing his hair down. “You won’t have to confine yourself in this school anymore. All of you will be allowed to go anywhere you want, whenever you want. No one will be able to mess with you and you won’t have to fear for your safety. Though that comes with learning how to properly defend yourselves. You will do that for me, won’t you?”

Sunoo is quick to nod happily. “I’ll learn to protect myself and I’ll learn to protect my brothers and sisters. And you too, my lady.”

“That’s right. So until then, be a little more patient, alright?”

“You…please tell me you’re joking. You’re bringing children to Norway?” It’s comical the way Seokjin runs his hand down his face as he tries to fathom what you’ve just told him. He looks more stressed than he’s ever been before. “Namjoon’s not going to agree to that.”

“Why does Namjoon’s opinion matter?”

“You never mentioned bringing children to the mission was going to be part of the plan!”

“They aren’t. I’ll just need an extremely safe house where it’ll be hard for anyone to locate to ensure their safety.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh and you want to laugh a little because despite the fact that Seokjin appears to always look calm and collected, he tends to lose his cool easily. He doesn’t get upset but he stresses a good amount. “Why’re you bringing them along in the place?” He asks and you look away.

“I’m not obligated to tell you.”

He grows more agitated. “Don’t tell me you’re going to exploit them into helping you with getting close to Alexander?”

“You think I’m that shallow?” You give him a deadpan expression. “They’re not in any part of the plan. Just think of it as them leaving for a field trip.”

He rests a hand on his temples, takes a moment to breathe as he takes a small lap around a small invisible circle before speaking again. Level headed. “Field trip. Right. As if you aren’t going out there signing your life away to Alexander Larsen!”

Not so level-headed.

He’s losing his cool and you grin at how he tries so hard to keep calm but eventually gives in. “If you’re that worried, why don’t you tag along? Come before the rest of you come when it’s time to take action.”

“I can’t,” Seokjin grunts as he runs a hand through his hair. “Hoseok and Jungkook are already assigned to go with you and I have to stay by Namjoon’s side. He’s a wreck without me.”

“Of course he is.”

He glares your way before continuing. “He’s not going to allow you to take the kids.”

“Come on, Kim Seokjin. You’re the Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon’s right hand man, the only one who can get through to him when his stubborn ass refuses to let anyone talk him down from his decisions.” You give him a small poke on his arm, teasing a bit, and Seokjin takes note of the way you feel a little comfortable touching him even in the slightest bit. “I’m sure you can cool him down once he receives news that I’m bringing Sunoo and Jungho along.”

“Cool him down?” Not even convince him to agree but to cool him down. Meaning you aren’t backing from your decision, and Seokjin close his eyes as he takes in another deep breath, praying to God to allow him to keep his patience because he knows he’s stuck dealing with two stubborn people where one does whatever she wants and the other is easy to rile up when the right buttons are pushed.

And you know just the right buttons to push.

“Good luck buddy, I’ll see you when I see you.” With that, you salute him a goodbye and walk off with a grin plastered on your face.

“Y/N?”

The man Namjoon sets you up to meet in Norway is tall in the figure, with blonde hair combed neatly back, and a black suit to match with piercing green eyes that you’re sure to have probably earned many women in his life to swoon.

He’s quite a looker; handsome and tall and carries an aura of authority.

“Asher Larsen.” You say his name in perfect English and extend a hand out to shake it just briefly.

He takes a seat across from you, brows a bit furrowed, jaws set tight. “I can get you in to meet my grandfather but whatever it is you wish to do is none of my business. That will be the farthest I will do for you.”

“Of course. That’s all I need.”

Asher Larsen, grandson of Alexander Larsen, Karl’s nephew, and an intelligent man amongst the Kingsmen. You aren’t sure what Namjoon’s told him about you or the mission in general but he seems like the type who’ll only care about something that he’s actually interested in. And clearly, whatever you’re doing here, he has no intention of getting involved. He’s probably witnessed a few similar scenes before so he can probably guess what it is you’re after, which makes your job a lot easier.

In London, Taehyung was assigned to stay with you during the majority of your plot. Norway, as Seokjin said, Hoseok and Jungkook are here by your side, but unlike London, you won’t have someone here on your side to give you much aid in the way you had Hyunjin.

Asher is only here to be a bridge. Nothing more, nothing less.

He takes you to a private party that night where you walk in by his side as his guest, and for some odd reason, things already begin to spiral as a commotion is heard not long after your arrival.

“Do you often have your security breached like this?” You turn to Asher who gives you a quizzical expression.

“You mean this wasn’t you?”

“To try and grab your grandfather’s attention?” You laugh a little. “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? If it was me behind this, it’d only want him to make an enemy out of me, and that’s not what I’m after.”

No one’s by your side tonight, it’s a private party after all, and though you’re sure your Reapers, along with Hoseok and Jungkook, aren’t too far away for you to leave and make an escape before something goes wrong, somehow you don’t feel the need to run away even when the chandelier from the ceiling falls and shatters glass all over the floor.

“How interesting,” is what you utter when the bright lights of the party fall dim and all that’s left is the light of the dawn sky from above the small, circular glass ceiling.

“Do you care one bit about your safety?” Asher questions you when he sees every other guest making an escape while you remain standing where you’ve been the whole time. He doesn’t look like he’s in a state of panic, and you guess he’s probably used to these things. Who wouldn’t be when you’re born into this business?

“Of course I do, but—”

“You should leave before something goes wrong.” He takes your wrist and pushes you towards the emergency exit, but you just can’t seem to run.

“Asher.” You look around, eyes sharp and quick. “Where’s your grandfather?”

Asher looks exasperated with you. “When things like this happen, my grandfather’s the first to escape. Now—”

“Something’s odd.”

“What’s odd?”

“The party started an hour before we arrived, right? So why was it that the second we walked in, they decided to stop it then? Why when you arrived?” You look towards the entrance door that’s now closed and blocked off, the chandelier that fell at the center of the grand room, just a few feet away from where the two of you were standing.

Luckily no one seems to be on the verge of death and there are people helping some guests leave from a side door, but besides that, there doesn’t seem to be any present physical threat in this room. One might believe they’re not here because Alexander isn’t here but still, you feel an odd sense of something.

You turn back to Asher just as he’s trying to calculate what you just said. “Tell me, Asher, are you someone your grandfather favors?”

“My grandfather doesn’t have favorites.”

“But you are intelligent and a great asset to the Kingsmen.” Just as you said that, you catch sight of a man who had been pretending to help an injured man point a gun towards Asher, who has his back turned to him, and in seconds, you’re rushing to Asher, take hold of the gun he held on the back of his belt, and pierce a bullet straight into the man’s forehead.

Asher turns around, stunned, and you take another man out on the second story of this room.

“You don’t have an extra gun or something, do you? Because we were told not to bring guns to this party.” You flash him an awkward grin but the man only shakes his head.

Well. At least you’re prepared.

Throwing him back his gun, to which he easily catches to eliminate more men, you take your two hairpins that had been holding your hair up this whole time, and use it as your weapon, stabbing along the masked men who have been bold enough to operate on this mission tonight.

Asher and you are an unstoppable force, it’s almost a bit thrilling having the chance to get back into action and overpowering the enemies as if they were simple ants pestering and getting in your way. You forgot how fun this can be after being held up in bed for almost two months, unable to move properly.

Something catches your attention when a lady dressed in a black and white suit stumbles onto her feet with something in her hand, a puppy, and just behind her a long pillar lies, on the verge of tipping over.

No longer watching Asher’s back, you rush over to the scene to pick the running puppy into your arm and grab the woman with your other hand, successfully rescuing them just as the huge cement falls and crashes onto the floor, alerting everyone’s attention.

You simply stare at the dog in your arm. “Behave, will you? Don’t run into danger, that pretty lady was only trying to help.”

It barks and you feel guns pointed straight at you.

The room falls silent, nothing is heard, and you can’t put a finger on why it is that you’re now the target and they’re ignoring Asher.

Is it the puppy? Is the puppy’s life far more valuable than Asher’s?

“Y/N!” You hear Asher’s call and keeping a firm grip on the puppy, rush to dodge the bullets that fly your way with Asher’s help in shooting down a few of them.

Your body twists and turns, flipping and jumping, doing all it can so that the bullets can only breeze past your skin and not pierce through it, all the while you use your hairpin to stab nearby opponents down with a dog in your hand.

The last of them die against the piercing of your hairpin against their neck, and while you feel eyes on you from the people who were hidden away to hide from the fight, you retrieve the two silver accessories from the enemy’s bodies, wiping their blood on the cloth of your dress, before fixing them back easily into your hair.

The dog licks your face unexpectedly, jerking you from it, and you fall completely silent and stunned at what it had just done.

“Boy, what are you doing to me? You can’t just lick someone like that, even if that is in your nature,” you say, face contoured with disgust as you bring him into your hands and extend your arms out so that he’s unable to continue licking you.

He barks with complaint, and there’s a small snicker that you hear from across the room.

When you turn to look, you’re greeted unexpectedly by the very man you came to meet tonight, standing beside Asher with a few guards next to him.

The little dog twists out of your hand and jumps back onto the floor, rushing over to Alexander who easily picks him up.

Ah. So it was his dog. Now it makes sense why the enemies were after me. The dog’s special to him.

“Are you not used to that?” The old man asks when you pat your hand down onto your dress. His English has a bit of an accent, not too distinct, but he’s not as fluent as Asher is.

“Suddenly getting licked in the face? No sir, I have not.”

“He likes you.” The men beside him move to take the enemies away at Alexander’s head signal, and you watch the way the old man pets the little puppy on the head. “Kiwi doesn’t like just anyone.” Kiwi. “They say dogs are better at judging people than humans.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “...Do they now?”

“Come.”

He turns, with the dog in hand, and you blink.

“Huh?”

But he ignores you to give an order to the lady you reduced under the pillar. “Have a room ready for the lady and send people to tend to her.”

“Pardon me sir, but I can take care of myself. I have a place nearby—”

“My place is closer,” he says, and with that, he’s walking off without letting you have another word in, leaving you to simply stand there with a dumbfounded expression.

When you look at Asher who’s still here, he sends you a shrug, along with a small, amused smile curling along his lips. He looks impressed and he probably is, because you’ve just gotten your chance at speaking to Alexander Larsen without approaching him first.

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