#i'll be posting some content for them every once in a while

[dakusan]

W h e r e V a m p i r e ! S K Z L i k e s t o B i t e Y o u

Vampire!SKZ OT8 x Reader | eight fangs. eight fixations. and every filthy way they ruin you where it hurts the most

🔞synopsis: You thought you knew desire. You thought you understood sex. Then they bit you. This isn't love. This is hunger. Worship. Power. A kiss laced with venom. A cock buried in your cunt while your blood runs hot down their chin. Eight vampires. Eight bite locations. Eight ways to lose your mind and beg for more.

💌a/n: Welcome to fucking Wreck Me Wednesdays. This was supposed to be “mini.” Instead I wrote eight vampire sex case files with feeding traits, bite kinks, and full-blown NSFW lore. Somewhere between Chan’s heartbite and Han's “mine mine mine,” I lost the plot and my soul. Some are longer. Some are feral. Some are shorter. All of them ruined me and they shall ruin you too. Read responsibly. Stay hydrated. Stretch your legs. Cry in the bathtub. p.s. reblog = consent to be ruined by a vampire. p.p.s. Tell me who broke you. For science. p.p.p.s. pls enjoy the song :3. i will also get to the asks later today, haven't forgotten!

⚠️ warnings: NSFW / 18+ ONLY — minors will be fed to Minho. This series contains graphic vampire smut and feral content not suitable for the emotionally stable | Bloodplay + feeding during sex | Biting (everywhere) | Obsessive/possessive behavior | Power dynamics (soft dom to unhinged dom) | Crying, overstimulation, choking on moans | Praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink | Fang kinks. Vein kinks. Chest kinks. Thigh kinks. | Oral (receiving + giving), rough sex, soft sex, bubble bath sex, rage sex

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𓆪 BANG CHAN // Abnormal Vampire Obsessed with control. Addicted to your pulse.

🩸PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Neck or heart — where the pulse is loudest. He wants to hear it skip.

💉FEEDING STYLE ‣ Controlled. Lethal. Intimate. ‣ Always timed with orgasm. May edge before bite. ‣ Often restraints you during feeding. Uses voice as a binding tool.

🫀EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Rapid heartbeat. ‣ Dissociation from overstimulation. ‣ Emotional dependency post-bite. ‣ High risk of imprinting.

⚠️PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasmic blood-loss. ‣ Neck bites mid-thrust = blackout-level pleasure. ‣ Heart bites = ego death. Immediate sobbing. ‣ Lingering soreness + possession marks.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 001 𓆪

"Strip. Slowly."

You're standing in front of him—already trembling, already soaked. He hasn’t touched you. Not yet. Just sits back on the velvet chaise like he’s watching a performance he paid for in centuries. Legs spread. Shirt open. Mouth smiling, fangs peeking. Hands not on you.

Not yet.

You undress like you're unwrapping something forbidden. And his eyes don’t leave your chest. Not even once.

"There," he murmurs when your top hits the floor, voice like silk over blade. "It stutters when you know where I'm going to bite. Do you want it tonight?"

You nod, breathless.

"Words, darling."

"...yes. Please."

It doesn't take long, really it doesn't. Because one second you were putting on a show for him, stripping, peeling layer by later until you were naked and suddenly, you were now laid down on the bed with Chan knelt between your thighs, breathing against your cunt without touching.

With only one single kiss, not touching. Not yet.

"So warm here. You've been aching for me all night, haven't you? Dripping for me. Thinking about how it'll feel when I bite your chest and fuck you until your name melts off your tongue?"

You whimper, nod, hips twitching—but his hands grip your thighs down firm and leans forward, tongue finally moving—not inside you—no, he flicks along your folds. One stroke. One taste. Then stops.

"Mm. You're going to wait for me to bite. I'll have to make you cum with my mouth first."

He eats you out slowly. Sinfully. Like a king savouring dessert before the main course. Fingers spreading you, tongue teasing, lips sucking your clit just barely enough to make your stomach tense. Then he stops. Over and over. Until you're crying, hips grinding, begging.

"Please—Chan, please—fuck—just let me—"

"Let you what?" he says, smiling against your pussy. "Bleed? Break? Cum?"

"Yes—fuck, yes—all of it."

He hums against your cunt like you gave him a goddamn prayer.

"All of it, huh?" He drags his tongue up slowly, catching your clit just to hear the gasp he wrings from your throat. "Then keep those thighs open. Let me earn it."

And he does.

His mouth descends like a curse and a promise, this time not stopping. He licks like he’s reading scripture off your skin. Like he’s memorizing the shape of your moans. Two fingers press in, curling perfectly, while his tongue circles your clit with calculated cruelty. He’s not being sweet—he’s being precise. Every flick, every suck, every curl of his fingers is designed to make your legs tremble and your mind splinter.

“There it is,” he growls into you when your hips start bucking. “So fucking wet, baby. You gonna cum like this? Before I even bite?”

You try to answer. You really do. But it’s already happening. Your stomach tightens, thighs trembling, mouth open on a silent scream as your orgasm crashes down—hot, humiliating, perfect.

He doesn’t stop.

Licks through your orgasm, dragging it out. Groaning low, fingers still thrusting, until you’re gasping, writhing, overstimulated and dripping. Then—finally—he pulls back. Just enough to lift his head.

His mouth is wet. His chin shines with your slick. And his eyes—god, his eyes—are blown wide, black with hunger. “Now you’re ready,” he says, voice darker, lower. “Now you’ll taste right.”

He climbs up your body slowly, kneeing your thighs further apart as he goes. One hand cages your throat—not tight, just present—and the other cups your breast, thumb rubbing lazy circles around your nipple.

And then he leans in. Presses his lips right over your heart. The bite is sudden. Deep.

Your blood floods his mouth, and he moans—moans—like it’s better than sex, like it’s what he’s been starving for. His hips grind against yours as he drinks, hard cock pressing against your folds like a promise. You’re shaking beneath him—your orgasm still echoing, your body pulsing, blood pouring into his mouth like a gift only he deserves.

And then—just when you start to go dizzy—he pulls back. Fangs red. Lips stained. Chest heaving.

“Still with me?” His voice is rough, wrecked with restraint. “Because I’m not done.”

You nod—but barely. Your whole body is trembling, and your vision is hazy, floating from the orgasm and the blood loss and the fact that he bit your fucking heart like it was a fruit he’s waited centuries to taste.

And he’s still fully dressed. Shirt unbuttoned, dark slacks hugging his thighs, belt still on. You’re naked and wrecked and soaked, but he’s untouched. Pressed against you, blood-slick mouth and cock hard against your pussy—but untouched. “Look at me,” he whispers, dragging his fingers down your side, over the bite mark, over your trembling hips. “Look at me while I feed you something else.”

And then he leans back.

Slowly. Casually.

Undoing his belt with one hand, unzipping his pants like he's got all the time in the world. His eyes never leave yours as he slides them down just enough to free himself—his cock thick, flushed dark red, leaking at the tip, veins mapped like sin. You swear it twitches when he sees your thighs shake.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, wrapping one hand around the base and giving himself a lazy pump. “Open. Dripping. Ruined. And all for me.”

He strokes himself slow, torturing, his fist sliding up over the head and back down, slicking it with precum while his other hand presses down on your lower belly, keeping you there.

“You feel that?” he asks, dragging the head of his cock through your folds. “That’s mine now. This heat. This slick little cunt. Your blood’s still warm inside me and now I’m going to fuck it back into you.”

You sob. Actually sob. Because even just the way he slides against your folds—up and down, dragging over your clit, teasing your entrance—it’s too much.

“Please, Chan,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “I want you inside—I want to feel it—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He lines himself up. Presses the head in just a little. Just enough to make you gasp. “You’ll take it. Every inch. Slow.”

And he means it.

He pushes in inch by devastating inch, watching your face the entire time—watching your mouth fall open, your eyes flutter, your back arch. You feel every ridge, every vein, the stretch of him parting you slowly like he’s carving space for himself where no one else belongs.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice breaking. “So fucking tight.” Another inch. Another. “God, you’re squeezing me like you missed me.”

You cry out. Not from pain. From pleasure. From the overwhelming fullness, from the feel of him dragging along your soaked, overstimulated walls.

He pauses halfway in. Just pauses—hips pressed flush, cock twitching inside you, breath hot against your cheek.

“You want more?” he asks, fangs still out. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want me to fill you.”

“Please,” you gasp, tears spilling, voice trembling. “I need it—I need you inside—all of you—fuck, Chan, please.”

His hips snap forward. You scream. He bottoms out with one deep thrust, cock buried to the hilt, and the stretch burns so good.

“There,” he grits, grinding slow, deep, merciless. “That’s what I wanted. That fucking clench. That pretty little scream.” He stays buried in you for a moment—deep—just breathing, letting your walls flutter and your cunt adjust to the full stretch of him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, trying to lock him in, but he just smirks.

And then he starts.

Slow. Precise. The first few thrusts feel like worship—or punishment—dragging out so achingly slow that your body clenches tighter, trying to chase what he won’t give you. His hips roll, grinding into you, the thick weight of him pressing against every oversensitive inch of your soaked, blood-drunk cunt.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he groans, head dropping to your throat as he sets a slow, grinding rhythm. “So fucking warm. So tight. You gonna cry for me again, sweetheart?”

You already are. You’re gasping, eyes glassy, body shaking as he rocks into you with that slow, devastating rhythm. One of his hands cradles your face, the other beside your head, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And then—he leans in. Mouth dragging across your skin. Kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips, your throat. Peppering kisses like you’re sacred. His fangs scrape lightly down your neck and you twitch underneath him.

“You like that?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “The fangs. The pressure. You want me to bite again, don’t you?”

Your breath stutters. He knows. Of course he knows.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, thrusting deeper. “Not until you cum on my cock. Not until I’m so deep you forget how to speak.”

He picks up the pace now—still controlled, but faster. Harder. The sound of skin slapping, of your soaked cunt swallowing him in, fills the room along with your moans. Your nails drag down his back. Your hips rise to meet his.

“That’s it. Take it, baby. Take all of me. That greedy little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—fuck, yes—made for you, only you—”

He kisses you. Hard. Bruising. Tongue sliding past your lips like he owns your mouth too. And when he pulls back, his eyes are pitch black, fangs still bared, lips red from your blood.

“Say it again.”

“Made for you,” you cry. “Yours. Only yours.”

“Good fucking girl.”

His pace snaps harder now—deep, perfect strokes—one hand gripping your thigh, the other pressed firm against your throat. His body curves over yours, keeping you pinned while he fucks you like he’s staking a claim inside your cunt.

Your legs tighten around him. Your belly coils. You feel your orgasm building—hot and sharp and dizzying.

“You gonna cum again?” he pants, rutting harder now. “Gonna let me feel it? Let me feel that pretty little pussy milk me while I drink from your heart again?”

You sob. You nod. You beg.

“Please, please—bite me—fuck, Chan—please—”

And that’s all it takes. He thrusts deep, one last time, grinding hard against your cervix, and then bites—again—right over your heart.

You cum instantly. Your walls clench so hard around his cock it triggers his own orgasm—thick, hot, flooding you as he groans into your skin, drinking and thrusting and owning you. When he finally pulls back, he’s panting, licking the wound tenderly. Your body’s trembling—soaked, stuffed, claimed—and he just looks down at you like you’re a masterpiece.

Chan leans down, kissing your lips so softly now. "You're mine sweetheart. Bloody, body, soul."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𓆪 LEE KNOW // Abnormal Vampire Sadist in silk. Devours screams. Fuck-first, feed-later type.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner thigh — where you're softest, where you beg hardest.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Slow. Pain-laced. Erotic. ‣ Often feeds while fucking from behind. ‣ Fingerplay first—he has to feel you fall apart before the bite.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Shaking legs. Sore hips. Oversensitive clit. ‣ Mind-fracture from orgasm + blood loss combination. ‣ Known to cause dehydration, bruising, and uncontrollable sobbing. ‣ Marked behavioral changes: submission, clinginess, obsession.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasm coincides with bite. Scream = trigger. ‣ Thigh bites may cause blackout + limp for 2–3 days. ‣ Post-bite euphoria. Known to whisper “again” while you’re still twitching. ‣ Irreversible addiction risk. Do not engage without safe word.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 002 𓆪

“You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to. Understand?”

His voice is silk-coated steel—low and lethal. You’re on your back, naked, legs spread wide on the silk sheets, with Lee Know fully clothed beside you. Not even undressing. Just watching. Eyes dragging over your soaked cunt like it’s something he owns. Like it exists to be ruined.

You nod, desperate.

“Use your words.” His eyes narrow, lips curling with warning. “If you want my fingers inside you, you’d better earn them.”

“Yes. I understand,” you breathe. “Please—Minho, I need it—”

He hums, finally moving. One hand strokes up your thigh, so gentle it makes you shiver. “So polite,” he murmurs. “And already dripping. All this for me?”

Two fingers press between your folds, parting you slowly. You moan. He doesn’t move fast—he just teases. Up and down, collecting slick. Spreading it messily across your clit before tapping it, sharp and precise.

You jerk. He laughs softly.

“No cumming, sweetheart,” he reminds you, before pushing a finger in.

You moan, clenching instantly. He’s slow at first, curling upward to find that spot, rubbing it deliberately. Then a second finger. Scissoring, stretching. His thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit, but never enough. Never fast.

And when you start to tighten around him, about to tip over—he pulls out.

You scream. He smiles.

“Again,” he says, and starts over. Fingers, curl, rub, drag—stop. Over. And over. By the fourth time, your body’s twitching. Your thighs shake. Your hands are fisting the sheets. “Minho—fuck, please—I’m going to lose it—”

“Good.” He leans over, mouth brushing your ear. “Then maybe you’ll behave.”

He grabs your hips, flips you over in one smooth motion—onto your knees, chest to the sheets. One hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your spine into a perfect arch. The other? Slipping down to play with your pussy again.

“You’re so wet baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers back through your folds. “I’ve barely done anything.”

You sob into the sheets. Then you feel it—his tongue. On your inner thigh. Not your pussy. Not yet. Just slow, deliberate licks on the sensitive skin right near your pulse point.

You freeze.

“Oh, did you think I’d forgotten about the bite?” he purrs.

He kisses the skin first. Then bites. His fangs sink in with a sharp, hot pain that melts instantly into pure fucking ecstasy. Your vision goes white. Your arms give out. You cry out, body trembling as blood leaves you in slow, sensual pulses.

And the second his mouth pulls back—

He’s undoing his pants.

You hear the belt unbuckle. The zipper lower. Then feel it—his cock, thick and flushed, dragging through your soaked folds. “You want this?” he asks, voice darker now. “Want to be fucked while your thighs are still bleeding?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—please—”

He slides in.

No warning. No mercy. One smooth, brutal thrust that knocks the air out of you. His hips slam into your ass, cock buried to the hilt, and he groans—deep and guttural—like he just found heaven inside your cunt. “Fuck,” he pants, grabbing your hips with bruising force. “So tight. Still twitching from that bite?”

He doesn’t wait.

He starts moving. Deep, hard thrusts that punch cries from your throat. Your back arches, cheek pressed to the sheets as he fucks you in a perfect rhythm—every stroke hitting exactly where you need him.

And he does not stop.

“Cry for me,” he growls, slapping your ass. “Scream. Let them hear how good I fuck what’s mine.”

You scream. You cry. You babble his name like a prayer.

“That’s right,” he hisses, hips snapping faster. “Fucking perfect.”

You’re gone. Broken. Bleeding. Full. And when your orgasm is close, when you're just about to cum—he doesn’t stop you. “Let go,” he pants. “Give it to me. I want to feel this cunt strangle my cock.”

You do. You collapse, sobbing, shaking, cumming so hard your thighs go limp. But he doesn’t stop.

Minho groans through his teeth and keeps thrusting—fucking you through your orgasm like he’s chasing something deeper. His grip bruises your hips, cock dragging through your soaked, fluttering walls, harder now, rougher.

“You sound so pretty when you break,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “I can feel it. Every pulse. Every squeeze. You're milking my cock like you want me to stay inside forever.”

You whimper, twitching under him, nerves fried, cunt still clenching in aftershocks. Your body is shaking—numb, overstimulated—but he fucks you through it, like you owe him every second.

“I’m close,” he growls, burying himself deep. “Gonna fill you up—fuck, just like this—”

A sharp snap of his hips, one final grind—and then he spills into you with a broken sound, teeth bared, fangs glinting. His cum is hot, thick, flooding your sore cunt as he presses as deep as he can, breathing hard against your spine.

But he’s not done. Not even close.

The second his cock slips free—wet and dripping with both of you—he’s flipping you over again. Your body’s limp, arms trembling, blood drying sticky on your thigh. You can barely focus. Barely breathe.

But you feel him. The press of his mouth. The heat of his breath.

“Still bleeding here,” he murmurs, fingers parting your thigh. “And you’re still so warm.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer before he bites again.

Same thigh. New wound.

You scream—not from pain, but from the crash of sensation. The moment his fangs sink in, your body floods with another unbearable wave. You’re twitching, crying, clenching around nothing—your cunt soaked, still dripping his cum—while he drinks, slow and deep.

Every pull of his mouth makes your stomach tighten. Your hands claw at the sheets. You’re delirious—gone—his mouth on your thigh, blood leaving in perfect rhythm with the mess between your legs.

He moans softly against your skin. Then he pulls back. Lips stained. Fangs gleaming. Blood running down your thigh like a love letter written in ruin.

He crawls over your body, eyes dark and hungry still. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, licking the blood from his lips. “But I’ll let you rest…”

One hand strokes your cheek, surprisingly soft.

“For now.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑 𓆪 SEO CHANGBIN // Normal Vampire Made of muscle, menace, and moans..

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Below the ribs or just above the hipbone

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Possessive. Worshipful. ‣ He growls when he drinks, like it's carnal. ‣ Usually feeds during sex. Leaves deep bruises around the wound from how hard he grips.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Breathless moaning. ‣ Clawing, overstimulated orgasms. ‣ Emotional grounding. Heightened intimacy. ‣ High likelihood of imprinting if bitten more than once.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Feral rut-level fucking. ‣ Bruised hips, shaky legs, blood-drunk sobs. ‣ Bite leaves a phantom heat that spreads like wildfire. ‣ Will absolutely carry you to a bath after and tell you you did so well.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 003 𓆪

You were teasing him. You didn’t mean to—but you were.

The corset was tight. The skirt was short. Your lipstick matched the red of your bite mark from two nights ago. You were only supposed to drop off the file he needed but you knew what the outfit would do to him. What it always did.

And the moment he looked up from his desk and saw you?

All bets were off.

He’s already panting when he slams the door shut behind you. One heartbeat later, you're pinned to the wall—hard. His broad chest flush against your back, his breath already ragged and hot against your ear.

You hear the low, animalistic growl deep in his chest before you feel it—rumbling through you like a warning.

Or a promise.

Because you’re standing there in his office after midnight, wearing nothing but a black lace corset that cups your breasts high, a tiny pleated skirt that barely covers your ass, and delicate panties—thin, sheer, soaked. Stockings, too. Garter belt. Lip gloss still shimmering.

You knew what you were doing.

And so does he.

“Take that shit off,” he growls, voice already thick with bloodlust and need.

You turn—barely—and meet his eyes. They’re black. Fully fucking black.

And you’re soaked.

“Changbin—” you whisper, breath hitching, thighs pressing together. It’s not a protest. It’s a plea.

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t ask. One sharp tug and your corset jerks loose at the back—ripped. Another growl, and your panties are shredded in his hands, lace in tatters. The air hits your bare skin and you whimper.

“You fucking tease,” he snarls, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Walking in here dressed like this? Like a fucking offering?”

You squeak as he grabs you under the thighs and lifts—one arm. Just one arm and you're airborne, slammed back against the wall like you weigh nothing to him.

Because to him? You’re not fragile. You’re his.

His mouth crashes into yours—hot, brutal, claiming. His tongue is deep before you can breathe. Fangs brush your lower lip and nick the skin just enough for blood to bloom, sweet and fresh, and he moans against your mouth.

“You wore this for me?” he growls between kisses. “Fucking knew it. Knew you were trying to get ruined.”

You nod frantically, breathless. “Please—need it—need you—”

Then he drops. To his knees. Fast. Like gravity yanked him straight down. He’s still fully dressed in black slacks, fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, mouth already parted. And you? You’re bare now—corset loosened, panties gone, skirt hiked up around your waist, legs trembling over his shoulders.

Your back hits the cold wall. Your pussy is right at his eye level. And he looks up at you like he’s about to worship you.

Or destroy you.

“Fucking look at you,” he growls, dragging his thumbs up your inner thighs to spread you wider. “You're soaked. All this for me?”

You can’t speak. You nod. His smirk turns feral. “Good.”

He doesn't waist a second, Changbin devours you.

No teasing. No buildup. His tongue dives in like he’s starving—wide and wet, licking through your folds with a brutal, messy hunger that makes you cry out on impact.

“F-fuck—Changbin—”

He groans. Moans into your pussy like it’s his favorite meal, nose buried, chin soaked, lips dragging up your slit again and again until they’re flushed and swollen with your slick. His tongue curls up to your clit—flicks, circles, sucks. Sloppy and relentless.

Then?

He starts making out with it.

No joke. Full mouth. Open, hot, filthy kisses against your cunt—like he’s Frenching your pussy with every ounce of his desperate need. Tongue moving deep inside, then sliding up to wrap around your clit, sucking hard, then soft, then hard again. Over and over.

Your legs are shaking on his shoulders.

He drags one arm around your ass, pressing you closer to his mouth, while his free hand slides two thick fingers inside—curling, fucking, spreading your walls until you're gasping like you’re being split open.

He’s growling into your cunt, fingers pounding, tongue flicking your clit like he’s trying to drag the orgasm out of you with brute force.

“Come on,” he pants between slurps. “Give it to me. Cum on my tongue, baby—now—”

Your scream tears through the room. It breaks you. Your orgasm hits like a punch to the gut—raw, loud, endless. Your whole body locks. Your thighs clamp around his head. Your vision goes black for a second.

And he fucking loves it.

Keeps sucking through it. Fingers still thrusting. His mouth sealing over your clit again as if your climax is what he’s been waiting for all day.

Only when you’re gasping, limp, twitching—only then does he finally rise.

And fuck, he looks good.

Mouth soaked. Chin gleaming. Eyes still black. Fangs bared.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are moving—fast. Belt undone with a sharp snap, pants shoved down, briefs yanked below his thighs. His cock springs free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Harder than sin.

You don’t even get a chance. Because suddenly—he lifts you. Again. Effortlessly. Strong arms under your thighs, back slammed against the wall. And this time, he doesn’t wait.

He slams into you.

One thrust—brutal, perfect—and he’s fully inside. Stretching you open. Your head rolls back, mouth open in a soundless scream as your cunt grips him like a vice.

“Fuck—yes,” he snarls against your throat. “That’s it—tight little pussy—knew you could take it.”

He doesn’t stop.

He fucks you into the wall. Rough. Desperate. Fast and deep and relentless. The slap of skin on skin echoes, your moans ricochet off the walls, and his name is the only thing you remember how to say.

“Changbin—Changbin—oh fuck—”

He groans against your skin. “You’re mine.”

And then?

He bites. Hard.

Right into your neck—fangs sinking deep, blood spilling into his mouth like wine from a sacred chalice. You scream, thighs trembling, orgasm threatening again just from the pain, the pressure, the possessive violence of it.

But he’s not done.

He licks the bite. Bites again—your shoulder this time. Then your collarbone. Then your neck again.

Everywhere.

Like he needs you in his mouth, over and over, just to stay grounded. Like drinking you is the only thing keeping him sane. His cock is ruthless inside you—dragging through your soaked walls, pounding harder each time you clench around him.

Your head spins.

He’s drunk on you. Absolutely gone.

“Fucking addictive,” he snarls. “Gonna mark you everywhere. Fill you up. Drain you dry. Fuck—this pussy’s perfect—squeezing me like it wants to bleed.”

Your hands claw at his back. Your nails dig into his shoulders. He loves it. Groans from deep in his chest. Slams into you even harder.

“Take it,” he growls. “Fucking take it. All of it. Don’t you dare stop squeezing me—make me cum, baby.”

You do.

Your orgasm hits again, body seizing, cunt fluttering around his cock like it’s made to wring him dry—and he loses it.

With a guttural snarl, he slams in deep—hips grinding, cock twitching as he spills inside you in heavy, scorching pulses.

But he doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t move.

Just stays there—cock buried, teeth still scraping your neck, hands fisting in your hair and thigh like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He pants. Shudders. Then licks your wounds. Gently. Worshipfully.

“Mine,” he whispers, pressing kisses to every bite mark. “Fucking mine. And I’m never letting go.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍 𓆪 HWANG HYUNJIN // Abnormal Vampire Beauty made ruin. Moans like a prayer. Kisses like a curse.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Pulse points — wrists, neck, inner thighs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Hypnotic. Addictive. Laced in poetry and pain. ‣ Always bites during orgasm. Sometimes mid-cry. ‣ Tongue traces first. Fangs follow like a kiss you asked for in a dream.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Euphoria-induced sobbing. Clutching, clawing, surrendering. ‣ Heart palpitations, glossy eyes, speech loss ‣ Often left with multiple bite marks in one session—each placed like a secret

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Known to say “You’re mine” while you’re still moaning. ‣ Multiple orgasms expected. Blood + sex high overlap. ‣ Post-bite daze may last hours. Often found still shaking in his arms. ‣ Extreme bond-forming. Danger of becoming his favorite. And never leaving.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 004 𓆪

You feel him before you see him.

That overwhelming stillness, the kind that drowns out thought. Your breath catches—and then there he is, walking in like a vision, black silk shirt half-buttoned, pale chest glistening, golden hair slightly damp like he’s just stepped out of a dream.

Hyunjin doesn't speak at first. He just walks toward you. Barefoot. Soft steps. Eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that exists.

And then?

“You wore my favorite,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing the strap of your lace slip. “Ivory. Like fresh canvas.”

His lips ghost over your collarbone. Not a kiss. Not yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers, “all night. What color you’ll bleed for me. What sound you’ll make when I make you fall apart.”

You tremble.

He lifts your chin gently, eyes gleaming obsidian. “Lie back, baby. Let me paint.”

You obey, shivering as you settle onto the bed—bare skin against cool silk, thighs pressed together from sheer need. He doesn’t make you wait long. Just climbs over you slowly, like you’re delicate, precious, sacred.

And then his mouth is on your wrist. Kissing. Worshipping.

“I’ll start here,” he breathes. “Where your pulse is softest.”

The bite is slow. Precise. A sharp flash of heat as his fangs pierce your skin, followed by dizzying pleasure—almost like he’s sipping your soul. He groans, low and ruined, as your blood coats his tongue.

“Mmm… divine,” he whispers against your wrist, pulling back only to let the droplets smear along his lips. “But I want more.”

His hands trail down. One over your breast, teasing your nipple, the other slipping between your thighs.

“You’re soaked,” he hums, licking the blood off his fingers. “Did you get this wet just from the bite?”

You nod. He smiles like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Then—he spreads you.

Kisses down your body, trailing open-mouthed devotion from your chest to your stomach, thighs, then—

“Oh, fuck—Hyunjin—”

He groans as he reaches your cunt, breathing deep. “So pretty,” he murmurs, “and all mine.” Hyunjin leans in to press a kiss over your clit. Soft. Like the place between your legs is a cathedral and he's repenting with every breath.

His lips brush your folds. Once. Twice. Then his tongue flattens against your clit, slow and wide, dragging up until your hips twitch off the bed.

“Sweet,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “So fucking sweet—like nectar, like stars, like sin.”

You moan.

He moans louder.

Because Hyunjin isn’t just eating you out. He’s savoring. Every lick is long and deliberate, every press of his tongue a whispered poem. He swirls around your clit—soft at first, then pointed—then sucks it into his mouth with such aching, focused gentleness you cry out without warning.

“Hyunjin—”

He groans at the sound of his name. The vibration floods through your cunt.

“Say it again,” he whispers against you, then kisses your clit again like it’s your mouth. “Please. Sing for me.”

“Hyunjin—fuck—please—”

You can’t help it. You’re squirming, writhing, lost beneath him. Your thighs tremble around his head but he doesn’t let go. One arm wraps behind your waist, anchoring you to his mouth like he can’t stand the idea of you pulling away.

His tongue starts to move faster—up, down, circle, suck—messy, wet, worshipful.

Slurping sounds fill the air. His own moans grow desperate. He drags you closer, face buried deep, nose pressed against your clit, tongue flicking mercilessly now. Like he’s not kissing anymore—he’s feasting.

You sob.

You’re panting his name like a spell now. Your back arches. Your thighs clamp.

His fingers dig into your skin. His tongue curls up and in. Every noise you make feeds him. Fuels him. Until he’s drunk on it. High on it.

High on you.

When you cum, it’s violent. Like drowning in silk. You clench around nothing, but feel everything. Your body locks. Your mind breaks. Your mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

And Hyunjin just groans. Like your orgasm was inevitable. A masterpiece finished.

He licks you through it. Sucks gently on your clit like he’s coaxing the last bits of your soul out through your cunt. Then another kiss. And another. Until he finally slows, breath ragged, mouth glossy with you.

His eyes rise to meet yours. Black. Dilated. Reverent.

Your breathing’s still erratic. Limbs heavy. The aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you in soft, involuntary flinches. And Hyunjin just watches. Licks his lips, eyes locked on the trembling between your thighs like it’s the final frame of a painting he’s not done signing.

Then? He shifts.

You barely register it until his mouth is on your inner thigh.

Not rushed. Not greedy. Just—gentle. Open-mouthed kisses along the softest part of you. His fangs slide out.

You feel the sharp brush of them ghost over your skin. He drags them softly, so softly, up the inside of your thigh, until your hips twitch from the sheer anticipation.

Then—

The bite.

It’s deep. Precise. His fangs sink into the flesh of your inner thigh like they were made for this—like your body was crafted just for his teeth. The sting is immediate, yes, but it blooms so quickly into pleasure that your head falls back, lips parted in a choked gasp.

Hyunjin groans the moment your blood hits his tongue.

His hands grip your thighs tighter, anchoring you as he drinks. Slow at first. Then deeper. His throat works in soft, rhythmic swallows. You can hear it. The slick sound of him feeding.

And all the while—he moans.

Like he’s tasting divinity. You try to move. He growls. “Stay still.” he breathes against your wound.

He licks the blood as it trails, mouth sticky and stained. Then another kiss. Another bite. This time, just a little higher—closer to where he just worshipped you with his tongue.

You gasp. The pleasure-pain bursts behind your eyes.

“Hyunjin—please—”

He hums your name into your skin. Wipes his mouth on your thigh like a signature. Then finally climbs up your body, hovering above your face. Eyes on your perfect pillowy lips, but he doesn't kiss immediately. He just hovers. Lets you see the blood on his lips—your blood—before whispering: “You’re mine, now. I’ll paint you in bruises and bites."

Then he kisses you.

Tongue deep. Copper-sweet. Blood-warm and you melt. Melt like puddle in his arms. His arms, exactly where you belong.

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 𓆪 HAN JISUNG // Normal Vampire Chaos incarnate. Bites first, thinks later. Addicted to your blood and your moans—equally.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Side of the neck ‣ Also: your chest, your fingers, your thighs—he’s not picky. Just rabid.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Chaotic, breathless, unrestrained. ‣ Often bites mid-fuck or right after you cum. ‣ Will feed and finger you at the same time, panting into your blood. ‣ Tastes you like he’s making out with your pulse.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Overstimulation. Dizziness. Bite-high. ‣ Orgasms feel drugged—like you're floating underwater. ‣ Can trigger full-body shivers, sobbing, giggles, and collapsing. ‣ Irregular heartbeat post-bite. Known to laugh while you cry.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Bite syncs with his orgasm. ‣ Feeds multiple times in one session—don’t expect to walk. ‣ Cums from your taste. Known to say “I need you again” before he’s even pulled out. ‣ Proceed with caution: addiction is mutual.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 005 𓆪

Han Jisung is already naked.

He wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to wait. But the second you walked into his apartment—short skirt, bare thighs, lipgloss still wet—he lost his fucking mind. Clothes gone. Fangs out. The kind of wide, dangerous grin that promised disaster and begged for it, too.

“You’re gonna ride me, yeah?” he pants, back hitting the bed with a thud. “Wanna see your tits bounce while I bite you.”

You swallow. Nod.

“No, no—c’mon,” he grins, already breathless. “Say it. Say you’re gonna ride me like you mean it.”

“I’m gonna ride you, Ji,” you whisper, crawling over him. “So fucking hard.”

“Fuck yes—” His head drops back, eyes fluttering. “My girl.”

You straddle him, feeling his cock hot and thick between your folds. He’s already leaking, already twitching beneath you. Your slick coats him in seconds. But he doesn’t thrust—no, he waits. Lets you drag your hips up and down until you’re both dizzy with it.

And then—you sink down.

“FUCK—” he cries, hands flying to your hips, gripping so tight you’ll bruise. “Shit—so warm—so tight—don’t move—fuck, baby, let me feel you like this—”

But you move anyway.

Start slow. Grinding your hips in circles, milking moans from his throat. He looks wrecked—sweaty, flushed, eyes half-lidded and glowing red. One hand sneaks up to grope your tits. The other stays on your hip, flexing with every grind.

When you start bouncing? He chokes.

“God—fuck—ride me—ride me, baby, please—”

You do.

Faster. Harder. Until your thighs burn and your pussy tightens with each drop. His mouth is everywhere—licking your collarbone, mouthing at your nipples, biting into your neck without warning.

He drinks. Moans into the wound. Licks the blood like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

You scream.

Not from pain—from pleasure so sharp it cuts. He pulls back, blood smeared on his lips, gasping like you just fucked the soul out of him. “You taste like heaven,” he whispers. “Fuck—I’m gonna cum—baby, cum with me, ride me until we break—”

You do. Together.

A shared orgasm that hits like a freight train. Your cunt tightens around him in rhythmic spasms, and he holds you through it—groaning, babbling praise, licking blood from your skin while he cums so hard his whole body shudders beneath you.

But he’s not done.

Because your chest is rising and falling—vulnerable, flushed—and he leans up, presses one last kiss between your tits.

Then bites again.

And again.

And again.

Your body’s still trembling. Muscles twitching. Slick and cum sliding down your thighs where he’s still buried deep inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

But Jisung?

He’s laughing.

Low. Breathless. A little too unhinged to be safe.

“You’re still warm,” he pants, lapping at your collarbone like it’s glazed in sugar. “Still fucking clenching around me. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You try to answer. You really do. But your brain has melted. Your mouth just opens—gasping—and that’s when he bites again.

Right above your heart.

You scream. Loud and broken. His fangs sink into skin like it’s the only place he belongs—like he can claim you from the inside out. He drinks like you’re water and he’s been parched for centuries. Moans like your blood makes him high. His cock twitches inside you, still half-hard and swelling again.

“Fuck—” he breathes, pulling back, his lips coated crimson. “You’re sweeter here. I knew you would be.”

Then he tilts his head. Looks down.

Sees it.

His cum.

Dripping out of your pussy like melted candlewax. A creamy mess of lust and love and loss of control. “Oh my fucking god,” he groans, manic. “I made you drip like this?”

A pause, a sharp inhale.

“Addicted,” he whispers. “Completely fucking addicted. You don’t even know—baby, I need—”

He bites again. Your shoulder this time. Then the other side of your neck. Then the curve of your breast.

He kisses each one after, messy and frantic, tongue smearing blood and spit across your skin like a mad artist painting his masterpiece.

And then?

He flips you. Again.

Pins you down now, hands on either side of your head, his mouth dragging over your body like he can’t choose where to ruin you next. I want to fuck you again,” he confesses, breath shaking. “Want to stay inside forever. Want to drink until I forget my name.”

“You already did,” you whisper, hoarse.

He grins. Wide. Bloody.

“Good.”

And then he bites again. This time? Your mouth.

Kisses you so hard his fangs nick your lip. Blood trickles in. He licks it up like a shot of liquor, hands gripping your thighs, your ass, your tits—anywhere he can touch.

"I love you. Mine, mine, mine forever."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 𓆪 LEE FELIX // Abnormal Vampire Soft on the surface, deadly underneath. Sleeps in silk, fucks like a fever dream.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Over the heart or the curve of your breast

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Gentle at first. Almost shy. Kisses before teeth. ‣ Feeds while holding you close—rocking, murmuring sweet things into your skin. ‣ But when hunger takes over? He gets lost. Mouth drunk. Eyes glazed. Almost feral.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Full-body shivers. Skin hypersensitive. ‣ Overstimulation from prolonged oral + emotional collapse after the bite. ‣ Heightened affection post-bite—clinginess, sobbing, echo-pleasure. ‣ Bite mark often becomes an erogenous zone.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Dreamwalkers induce trance-like states in partners. Bite can cause mild hallucinations. ‣ Reader may experience floating sensation + blackout orgasms. ‣ Blood-sharing with Felix forms rapid bond. Extremely addictive. ‣ Warning: prolonged exposure may result in crying during aftercare. And begging for more.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 006 𓆪

The penthouse is quiet when you return.

Shoes off. Dress unzipped. Champagne still singing in your veins from the gala. Felix walks in behind you, shrugging off his velvet blazer, golden curls loose around his temples, skin glowing under soft amber lighting.

He looks too good—black silk shirt open at the chest, fangs glinting behind his smile, eyes already darker than they should be. Not hunger. Something else.

Devotion.

"You were perfect tonight," he murmurs, fingers ghosting your waist as he draws you toward the bathroom. “But I didn’t like sharing you.”

Your heartbeat stutters. “You weren’t exactly subtle either,” you whisper, recalling the way his hand had stayed glued to your lower back all evening, lips to your ear at every chance, voice dipped low with possessive undertones. Like you were his prize.

His worship.

His next meal.

Felix chuckles. “No. I wasn’t.”

The tub fills behind you—steaming, lavender-scented, full of white foam and rose petals. His idea, of course. He always did prefer indulgence after restraint.

He helps you in like you’re made of porcelain. Your skin sinks into the warmth with a sigh. Felix climbs in after, settling behind you, legs spread so you’re seated snugly between them. Your back hits his bare chest, and already, you can feel it.

The thrum beneath his skin. The restraint snapping thread by thread.

“You wore that dress to kill me,” he murmurs, mouth against your neck. “Slit up to your hip. No bra. Lace so sheer I could see the curve of your nipples under every chandelier.”

You smile. “And?”

“And now I’m going to take my time with you.”

His hands cup your breasts from behind. Thumbs flicking your nipples. Bubbles cling to his wrists, his forearms. His lips drag up your neck. Soft. Featherlight.

Then sharp.

A kiss first—then a bite.

Fangs sink in, clean and deep, right beneath your jaw. You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder as the pain melts into pleasure. He drinks slow—just a few sips, just enough to make you squirm—and licks the wound clean with a reverent groan.

“So sweet tonight,” he whispers. “You taste like champagne and sin.”

You whimper.

His hands trail lower. One slips down between your thighs, parting you under the water, fingers pressing into your cunt with aching care. The other? Gliding over your thigh, then gripping it, spreading you wider for him.

He doesn’t tease.

Two fingers sink in—slick, hot, stretching you open as the water laps around you. His thumb finds your clit, circles slow and steady. The angle is perfect. Deep. Focused.

"You always take me so well,” he breathes into your skin. “Even when you’re trembling.”

You are. Shaking, helpless, your body already wrung too tight. The bite. The warmth. The way he touches you like he’s composing a symphony.

And then—he pulls you closer.

“Ride me,” he whispers. “Like you did the last time I fed on your heart.”

You whimper. Turn in his arms, straddling him with the water sloshing over the edge. His cock is already hard, flushed, pressed against your stomach as you rise onto your knees.

He watches you. Eyes half-lidded. Blood-drunk.

When you sink down on him—slow, stretching around his thick length—you both moan. Your nails dig into his shoulders. His hands grip your waist like he’s anchoring himself to reality.

“Fuck—baby—you feel like velvet,” he chokes out. “So wet. So fucking warm—”

You start to move.

The rhythm is gentle at first. Slippery skin, heavy breaths, the sound of water shifting with every roll of your hips. Felix bites your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower, tongue lapping blood before it cools, fangs sinking in again like he’s trying to mark every inch.

You're bleeding. You're riding. You're both coming undone.

“Look at you,” he groans. “Dripping for me. Bleeding for me. My perfect little canvas.”

Your orgasm builds like a tide—slow, inevitable. His cock hits all the right places, his hands guiding you faster, his mouth sealing over your throat for one final bite as he moans into your skin.

“Cum for me,” he pants. “Feed me while you fall apart.”

Your whole body tenses—like a wave crashing against fragile glass.

And then it shatters.

You break apart on him with a choked cry, thighs trembling, nails clawing down his back. Your orgasm ripples out in hot, helpless pulses, cunt fluttering around him, blood still seeping slowly from your bitten throat as you collapse forward into his arms.

Felix growls.

The sound vibrates through his chest, deep and guttural—feral with need. His mouth seals tighter around your neck, and he drinks as you shake through your climax. Every pull of his lips sends fresh aftershocks rolling through you. You're twitching, overstimulated, undone.

“That's it,” he whispers, lips stained, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “That’s my angel. Give me everything.”

He swallows every drop like he needs it to survive. Like your pleasure is the only thing that can keep him sane.

When he finally releases your throat, his tongue traces the wound—gentle now, reverent, like he’s kissing the holiest part of you. Blood paints his chin. His cock still buried inside you, twitching, heavy, throbbing.

Then—he lifts his head.

You see it in his face. The complete loss of control. His pupils blown wide, lips red, hair clinging to his temples in damp, golden waves. His hands clutch your waist again—and he thrusts up once, hard, a broken moan escaping his throat.

“Oh—fuck—” he gasps. “I’m gonna—”

You’re still pulsing around him. Still warm, wet, perfect.

He buries himself deeper, spilling into you with a low, desperate groan. His mouth finds yours mid-release, kissing you like he’s tasting eternity. Tongue slick with blood and love. You’re breathless, trembling, still locked together in the cooling water—and only then does he speak again. Softly. Against your lips.

“You’re divine.”

You smile weakly, forehead to his. “So are you.”

Felix brushes a petal from your shoulder. One last kiss to your jaw. One last whispered truth, low and sacred:

“I’d bleed for you too.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𓆪 KIM SEUNGMIN // Normal Vampire The gentleman with a scalpel smile. Clinical precision. Calculated hunger.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner arm — intimate, exposed, and close to your heart. ‣ Sometimes the chest or side of your ribs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Calm. Measured. Strategic. ‣ He plans his bites—timed, placed, controlled. ‣ Often feeds during emotional peaks—after soft sobs, laughter, confessions, or sex. ‣ Gentle on the surface, but watch closely: there’s a dangerous edge underneath.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heart rate spike followed by unusual stillness. ‣ Floating sensation. Hallucination-like euphoria. ‣ Skin hypersensitivity for hours after. ‣ Develops strong dependency on his praise and attention.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Low-risk externally—but internally, you’ll never forget the way he says your name. ‣ Prolonged feeding can induce dreamlike sedation or emotional bonding states. ‣ Known to leave almost invisible marks—but you feel them for days. ‣ Vulnerability spike: tendency to confess secrets or cry in his arms after.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 007 𓆪

You hadn’t spoken in over an hour.

Not since the fight.

Not since he said, “Maybe if you didn’t run every time we got too close, I wouldn’t have to wonder if you actually want this.”

You’d slammed the door to the bedroom. Now you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, staring at the wall like it’s going to offer answers. It doesn’t.

The air is tight. Tense. Like everything’s been coiled too long.

Then—you hear his footsteps.

And suddenly, he’s there.

Seungmin doesn’t speak. Doesn’t shout. He just walks over, grabs your jaw with cold fingers, and tilts your head up.

“You want to be left alone?” he asks quietly. “Or do you want me to make you feel something again?”

Your breath stutters. That look in his eyes—sharp, calculating, barely restrained—isn’t the usual teasing calm.

This is something else.

You whisper, “Make me.”

And just like that—he snaps.

You’re pushed back against the bed. His body cages yours, knees on either side of your hips, hands pinning your wrists above your head. You gasp, arching—but he doesn’t give you time to speak.

“I hate fighting with you,” he growls, voice low and lethal. “You know that?”

You nod, breathless.

“But you push me. You always push. And then you run, and I let you. But not tonight.”

His lips crash to yours—angry, desperate, hungry. You kiss back just as hard, teeth clashing, tongues twisting. Seungmin bites your lip—draws blood. Licks it up like you’re wine and he’s parched. “Take it off,” he demands, tugging at the shirt. You pull it over your head, baring yourself to him completely and his eyes darken.

His eyes scan your body like he owns it. Like he's earned it. Then—he lets go.

Just releases your wrists and leans back, chest heaving. You blink, confused, but he only settles onto the mattress, dark hair mussed. One arm folded behind his head. The other gestures lazily down his own body.

“Take your panties off.”

You hesitate.

He raises a brow. “Now.”

You obey.

Silently, you slide the soft lace down your thighs, aware of how his gaze never leaves your center. You think—maybe—he wants you to straddle his face. Let him taste the slick that’s already gathering between your legs.

But Seungmin has other plans.

“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Back to me.”

You do, breath catching.

“On your knees. Over my chest.”

And that’s when it hits you.

You’re not riding his mouth. He’s placing you above him, facing the length of his body, and when you obey—when your hands brace on the bed and your knees sink beside his ribs—he shifts both of you down.

So now he’s under you. And your soaked pussy is right above his mouth. But his cock? Hard. Heavy. Inches from your face.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he growls. “And keep it open while I ruin you.”

You barely have time to whimper before his hands are gripping your hips, dragging your pussy down to his mouth. His tongue licks one long stripe through your folds before his fangs sink into the plush of your thigh with no warning, no restraint.

You cry out.

But then—you moan.

Because his mouth is everywhere. Kissing. Biting. Tongue fucking you while blood still runs hot against his lips. He’s feeding and pleasuring, starving and devout all at once.

And you?

You finally do what he told you.

Shaky hands pulling down his grey sweatpants and his briefs, his cock springing out, hard, leaking, throbbing.

You lean forward. Wrap one hand around the base of his cock. The other balances on his thigh. And then—you sink your mouth over him, slow at first, tongue pressing to the underside of the thick, pulsing length that jerks the moment you moan around it.

He groans.

Deep in his throat. A growl of praise.

“Just like that,” he breathes against your cunt. “Take it all, baby. Feed me while I fuck your throat.”

You do.

Mouth stuffed full of his cock, your hips rocking over his face as he feasts between your thighs like you’re the cure to every craving. His tongue works in circles—then flicks. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading you wider, holding you still when your thighs start shaking.

You’re dripping. Gagging. Gasping for air.

And Seungmin? He never lets up. Every time your mouth slides down over his length, he rewards you with another harsh suck, another bite to your thigh, another moan against your clit that sends you reeling.

Until you’re both right there.

Teetering. Desperate. Drenched in sweat, saliva, and blood.

Then—his cock throbs. Your walls flutter. Your body clenches around nothing as the orgasm explodes from your spine, rolling over you like a wave of fire.

Your juices soak his mouth. He drinks. Groaning. Devouring. Never stopping.

Your body trembles through the high and just as you release his cock from your mouth, gasping, your hand wraps around his base again, stroking him once, twice before he finally cums. All over your chest. Your mouth which you made sure to keep open. Your tongue.

Seungmin is panting, eyes dark, lips red, blood dripping from his mouth like wine and he licks your inner thigh again. "Feel better now?" he asks hoarsely.

You collapse sideways onto the mattress, dizzy and dazed. "Fuck you," you whisper.

He smirks.

"You already did. But unless you want more, I'm happy to oblige~"

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓆪 YANG JEONGIN // Normal (Evolving Abnormal) Vampire The sweet boy with the sharpest bite. Addicted to affection. Dangerous when starved.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Shoulder blade, inner thigh & lower back

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Emotional. Impulsive. Clingy. ‣ Bites happen mid-kiss, mid-moan, mid-breakdown. ‣ Never feeds clean—always leaves marks. ‣ Mouthy. Sloppy. Overwhelmed. Often doesn’t stop until you pull him off.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heavy euphoria followed by crashing neediness. ‣ Breathing becomes erratic. Limbs tremble. ‣ Intense emotional projection—feels what you feel, tenfold. ‣ Causes your body to crave touch long after the bite ends.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Unpredictable: safest when loved, most lethal when rejected. ‣ High risk for overfeeding during sex due to overstimulation. ‣ Known to whimper while drinking. ‣ Will worship you for hours afterward like he’s trying to say sorry with every kiss.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 008 𓆪

You’re still wearing it.

That lingerie set—the one in soft wine-red lace, delicate enough to tear, pretty enough to drive him feral. It’s sheer over your chest, satin at the waist, and trimmed in ribbon. You’d worn it as a surprise. You didn’t expect him to unravel like this.

Jeongin stares at you from the mattress, already shirtless, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. He looks dazed. Hungry. Like he’s been trying not to lose control all night and now he’s at his limit.

“I’m not taking it off,” he says hoarsely, reaching for you. “It’s too perfect. Too hot. Just—ride me like that.”

Your breath catches.

You crawl into his lap slowly, knees bracketing his hips, arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands grip your thighs, sliding up the sheer lace with reverence and a tremble. Then his mouth is on you—kissing down your neck, biting gently at first, tongue soothing the sting. But that’s not what he really wants.

“I need it,” he whispers. “Please. Let me bite.”

You nod.

He doesn’t hesitate. Sinks his fangs into the swell of your breast just above the lace, groaning low as your blood hits his tongue. You moan at the feeling of the heat rush that floods your body. Your hips grind down on instinct. He grips you tighter, hips twitching beneath yours.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling back with blood smeared at the corner of his lips. “You taste so good.”

You rock against him again. He’s hard already, pressing against your center through thin layers. Your pace quickens as you straddle him, grinding down in search of friction, your moans growing louder with every pass.

And then—he thrusts up once, twice, desperately, through his boxers, trying to meet you. It’s messy. Uncontrolled.

“Take me out,” he pants. “I—I need—please—”

You reach between you, freeing him from his briefs. His cock is flushed, heavy, leaking against your hand. He bucks into your touch, then holds your hips steady while you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto him—inch by inch, lace still clinging to your skin.

His head drops back against the pillow with a moan so wrecked it doesn’t sound human. “You feel… fuck… you feel unreal.”

You start to move.

Slow at first—steady rolls of your hips, his hands roaming every inch of you he can reach. His fangs flash again as he watches you bounce, lace framing your curves, blood still drying on your chest.

“I can’t—can’t hold back,” he grits out. “Need to bite again—need to feel you everywhere.”

You nod, too lost in pleasure to form words.

This time, he bites your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your breast again through the fabric, enough to tear the lace slightly. Each time, his tongue follows, soothing the sting with a worshipful lick before he moans against your skin.

You’re shaking. Close. So close.

“Jeongin—”

“I know, baby," he growls—but this time, there’s a rasp in his throat. A dark edge. A thirst not just for you—but for what’s inside you. What feeds him.

Then—he snaps.

Jeongin bucks up into you with renewed force, rough and desperate, the rhythm turning messy and fast. One hand clutches your hip, guiding your motion, the other lands sharp against your ass—slap.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take it. Ride it. Don’t you dare stop.”

You try to answer, but your voice breaks. He’s deep, hard, relentless. The blood loss, the overstimulation, the lace chafing just so—it’s too much, and still not enough.

Then he sinks his fangs into you again.

Lower this time—just above your heart. A claim. A feeding. His moan is filthy against your skin as he drinks, hips slamming up with each pull from your vein. His lips seal to the bite like it’s sacred, tongue swiping the spill before it stains.

You feel yourself tipping, unraveling—body jerking, walls fluttering around him. He groans, hands digging into your ass, holding you in place as his thrusts become erratic.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants, blood-slicked lips against your breast. “I could drink you dry. Fill you up. Fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop.”

You don’t. Your body moves on instinct—legs trembling, hands clutching at his chest, your moans dissolving into shattered gasps as you ride him harder, faster, deeper.

He fucks up into you like he’s chasing something primal—like he’s on the edge of breaking, of shifting into something unholy. His grip on your hips bruises. His jaw is clenched tight. He’s staring at you like you’re divinity draped in lingerie and blood.

“Fucking—cum,” he snaps, voice cracking. “Let me feel you.”

And then—you do.

It hits like a flood, your whole body locking around him, head thrown back as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, shaking, grinding down on him as your walls clench and flutter and milk him mercilessly.

Jeongin loses it.

He growls—a sound feral, needy—and slaps your ass again, rougher this time, then grabs your waist and slams up into you with sharp, punishing thrusts. No rhythm now. Just desperation. His cock drags along every swollen, overstimulated nerve inside you as he chases his own climax, jaw clenched, breath ragged.

“Fucking—tight—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Another slap. Another thrust. His fangs flash again like he’s tempted to bite one last time, but instead he buries his face in your chest, breathing you in like you’re oxygen. His fingers sink into your thighs, holding you down as he spills into you with a deep, guttural groan.

His entire body jerks.

Once. Twice.

Then stillness.

His grip softens—only a little. His face stays pressed against your skin, your blood still drying against his lips. His cock twitches inside you, aftershocks making your thighs tremble from where you’re still seated on him.

He finally breathes. Hoarse. Like he’d forgotten how.

“…mine,” he whispers. Like a prayer. Like a vow.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco

[xomakara]

Hey, Cowboy

SUMMARY |  Mingyu's lap looks very inviting.

PAIRINGS |  Mingyu (SVT) x Reader

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked 

GENRE |  smut, pwp, established relationship

CONTENT/WARNINGS |  profanity, alcoholic consumption, grinding, unprotective sex, fingering, breast fondling, creampies, dirty talk, kissing, sucking, hair gripping/pulling, praising, oral sex (m.receiving), praising, multiple orgasms, deep dicking, size kink, riding/cowgirl, reader is turned on because of mingyu's stetson hat

LENGTH |  4,097 words 

TAGLIST |  –

NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @keopihaus @cosyhomenet @winerys-collection

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Because we all love Cowboy!Gyu~

Seventeen Masterlist

"Hey, Cowboy."

Mingyu looks up from his phone to catch your eyes. Sitting on the couch with a Stetson hat perched atop his head, he looks positively comical and you can't help but laugh at the picture.

Mingyu shakes his head playfully. "I'm your boyfriend. The least I can do is pull these hats from storage for your enjoyment."

"I knew I kept you around for a reason," you quip back. In all honesty, you never were much of a fan of Mingyu's endless stash of props... 

Until today that was.

As much as you hate to admit it, the way he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread open invitingly, and with his mouth tipped upwards ever so slightly made him look every bit like the epitome of sex. You just hoped Mingyu hadn't caught onto your blatant ogling and thankfully, your prayers were heard and you quickly realize that Mingyu had absolutely zero clue about what was going on in your head.

Mingyu simply rambles on, asking where the rest of his friends were and whether or not he'd be allowed to post the pictures without their consent, as if his hat and lap wasn't doing things to you.

Oh, the things he was doing to you.

When Soonyoung invited you and Mingyu to the SVT frat costume party that he randomly decided to throw, you didn't really know what you had signed up for. In all honesty, you agreed because your friend insisted and who were you to deny one of his random party ideas anyway? You and Mingyu decided to go as cowboys, since you had this cute, little skirt that would go well with some boots and he had a Stetson hat lying around.

However, as soon as you and your boyfriend arrived, Soonyoung and Seokmin had immediately dragged the two of you aside and doused you with alcohol.

Mingyu doesn't know a single thing of the thoughts racing in your head, because instead, his focus is directed onto his phone once again. It's really nothing out of the ordinary, until he hooks a finger in between the button of his shirt and tug ever so slightly that causes his shirt to be unbuttoned, exposing some of the lean muscle hidden there. Your eyes linger for a bit too long on his chest before he finally notices and looks back at you curiously. "Are you okay?" He asks and you cough out awkwardly.

"Um... yeah," you mutter quietly.

"Good, good... then I'll take more photos!" Mingyu says excitedly. He grabs your arm, pulls you down into his lap in one fell swoop while snapping multiple pictures at the same time, and before you even have a chance to question him, he's already scrolling through the photos and posting them onto his social media page.

Once he's posted a sufficient amount of pictures, Mingyu finally puts his phone down and gazes up at you with bright eyes, nearly causing your heart to skip a beat. "I'm so glad we took these photos. My baby looks hot as a cowgirl."

His arms encircled your body, pressing you further onto him, and he drops a quick, chaste kiss on your cheek.

You lick your lips as the friction makes your heart pound wildly. "Y'know Mingyu..." you whisper. "You're quite the sex icon with this cowboy thing..." And maybe it's because you've downed several cups of Soonyoung's cheap, vodka laced punch, but there's nothing stopping you from saying the most idiotic thing in your life, "Can I suck your dick?"

You watch your boyfriend's expression go from innocent to utter shock. For a moment, you actually think you see his ears tinge red, but you blink once again and the color is gone. "E-excuse me? Did I hear you right?"

"...yes?"

Mingyu sputters out in surprise, fumbling with his words and you can practically see his mind ticking as the gears turn, desperately attempting to process the information. "...what?" He finally manages to whisper in a quiet voice, not quite meeting your eyes and you shrug helplessly as you knelt on the floor and between his spread legs.

"Please, Mingyu? You just look so good in that hat and..." you trail off as you glance back up at your tall boyfriend, this time completely noticing the way his cheeks tint red in the dim lighting. "Your lap just looks so inviting." You pout as your fingers dance along the edge of his jeans, enjoying the way his lips curl and hips buck ever so slightly in an involuntary reaction.

"You're just joking. Right?"

"...no." You feel his eyes follow the movement of your finger that lightly strokes the inside of his thigh and you chuckle to yourself at the sharp hiss he lets out when you caress his crotch. 

"Come on, babe," he attempts one last time, still unable to look directly into your eyes. "Don't do this to me." Mingyu had no doubt noticed the bulge in his pants growing.

"Pleaseee?" You trail off as you eye his crotch, silently admiring the way Mingyu's bulge is prominent, leaving no room for imagination. "I know you've been looking at my ass this entire night," you smirk as your eyes lock with his.

Mingyu groans audibly as his teeth sink into his bottom lip in a valiant attempt at stopping his desire from leaking out. "Fine. Okay... let's do it." You can tell how desperately his cock must ache inside his pants, evident by the way he palms the outside of his thigh. "But if we're doing this... let's get somewhere a little more private."

After several moments of frantically looking, the two of you finally end up tucked in a secluded room that looked like an office. Luckily the music blasting in the frat house was so loud, that no one could even bother to be quiet and the entire hallway is flooded with the sounds of moans and sex. No one will dare to bother you in a place like this.

"Okay, you bad little cowgirl," Mingyu teases as he takes a seat on the leather couch, leaning back so his head is resting against the top. "I'm all yours to do whatever you want." You can only stare in awe as his fingers curl around the band of his jeans. "Anyways, it's time for you to claim your prize."

You slide your way to your knees, keeping your eyes locked onto Mingyu the entire time and only finally breaking off when you face his lower region. Mingyu is quick to undo his belt and quickly unzip his jeans and for the first time, you realize he'd gone commando tonight, causing a sudden spike in arousal as Mingyu's length bounces free of its constraints and smacks against the skin of his lower stomach.

You love how big your boyfriend is in every possible way, and it should really come as no surprise, considering his height and large frame. But, Mingyu's size never ceases to surprise you no matter how many times he's made love to you, whether that be from his long slender fingers to his tongue and his cock. You moan to yourself quietly as you wrap a fist around his cock and watch the foreskin glide back and expose his tip. You trace a finger along his head, enjoying the way the precum starts to trickle out the tip of his cock before you lift a hand up and suck in one of the fingers coated with precum, earning a sharp hiss from Mingyu.

His voice is strangled when he manages to choke out your name, the action catching him by surprise. "Naughty, naughty." Mingyu remarks softly. "You just love seeing me hard, don't you?"

"Hm... maybe, yes," you murmur, watching the way your hand easily moves up and down Mingyu's length before he inhales sharply, bucking his hips wildly, unable to help himself from fucking your hand. "Maybe I'll just bring you off with my hands alone tonight. That'd be quite a show."

"Fuck..." Mingyu mutters out through a clenched jaw when he watches the way you stroke the base of his cock lazily. "No more teasing. Just put your mouth to good use."

With one, final squeeze, you press the tip of Mingyu's thick cock past your lips and you instantly hear him groan above you. Mingyu's dick tastes bittersweet and is hot on your tongue and you love the taste. With a new surge of arousal pulsating through you, you're determined to take him as far as you can, forcing yourself past the initial gag reflex. Your nails dig harshly into his upper thighs, leaving light crescent marks with your touch, but you figure it'll just add to his enjoyment, judging by the way his head tilts upwards as another low moan falls from his mouth.

Your name escapes Mingyu's lips with such breathlessness that has your lower regions tingling pleasantly.

But you're not completely happy, seeing as to how he's not touching you the slightest. A whine slips from your throat as you grip Mingyu's thigh a bit too harsh, causing him to cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain and glance back down towards you, blinking in surprise. "Shit, Gyu," you mumble around his cock. Your hand is still palming his erection and the tip glistens under the lamplight with your spit.

His eyes narrow to meet yours in confusion. "What's wrong?" He questions, voice dripping with lust. "Isn't this what you want?"

It doesn't matter how drunk or sober you are, his dick feels fucking great in the hot confinement of your mouth and honestly? You can't get enough of the taste of him. The sensation of Mingyu's dick is almost better than any drug. "Nothing's wrong, except the fact you're not touching me Gyu," you complain quietly. "At least hold my hair or something. Let me know how well I'm doing."

A sinful smile teases on Mingyu's face. "Needy." Is the only warning you get before you feel fingers curl around your hair tightly, tilting your chin and pushing you farther down on his thick length. Instinctively, you roll your eyes back as his heavy cock hits the back of your throat, sliding into place without so much of a single choking. "Is this better for you?"

You can't answer, not like this with his cock filling up every bit of your mouth, so you can only respond to him by wrapping your tongue against him, bringing your hand back to grip and fondle with his balls. Mingyu curses and tosses his head back to rest on the edge of the couch, hips rolling slightly with each drag of his shaft along the warm and velvety texture of your mouth.

"Good girl," he grits through his teeth as a shot of hot pleasure rolls throughout his body, settling just below his abdomen. There's not much thought behind his words as they tumble past his tongue in the form of praise. Mingyu's vision nearly goes hazy when you begin to hum lightly around the base of his dick. The vibrations send him near the edge.

The pressure becomes too much for Mingyu to take. His hand that had been resting in your hair so lightly tightens its grip. You try not to let the small squeaks leave your mouth, knowing they'll go unnoticed but with his fingers clenched into a fist around the back of your head and forcing your lips so close to the base of his thick cock, tears of over-stimulation start to spring from your eyes as he begins to fuck your mouth. "Fuck! Shit, coming!" Mingyu barely chokes out in a rough and guttural voice, not that you could've heard him. Instead you're treated to a low, guttural groan as he arches his back from the couch, completely at the mercy of Mingyu's hold.

Your taste buds are overwhelmed with Mingyu's. He's salty and bitter and sweet and warm and so fucking delicious on your tongue. You swallow everything, desperate not to allow even a drop of the precious and addicting taste to leak from your mouth.

After you've cleaned Mingyu's spent cock with your tongue and licked every droplet of cum from his cock, you got up and shimmy your way onto Mingyu's lap once again, not minding the softening dick beneath your core. 

Mingyu blinks in surprise at you. "What are you planning now?"

"Trying to save a horse by riding a cowboy," you answered teasingly while pressing a wet, hot kiss against his lips. "Help a girl out, won't you cowboy? Show me what you're really made of."

Mingyu takes his bottom lip between his teeth, dark brown eyes reflecting the moonlight from the window, and there's something in his gaze that you can't help but find hypnotizing. He grins slyly at you, "The real question is, how quiet are you going to be for me?"

"Who said that I'll be quiet?" You quip with a laugh, causing Mingyu to throw you an incredulous look.

"The rest of our friends are downstairs and here we are, trying to keep quiet," he whispers into your ear, leaving you weak at his voice. His warm breath fans against your neck and a sudden tremor shakes through your core. Mingyu places a swift bite and lick to the side of your neck, no doubt creating a bruise that's visible for the rest of the world to see. His lips quirk upwards. "Just hope you won't be too loud, my little cowgirl. Otherwise everyone will know just how much you were begging to take my cock."

"Maybe I want them to hear," you grind against his cock and whimper at the lack of stimulation on your needy and soaked core. "Maybe I want them to know how much your dick fills my needy little pussy."

"Baby," Mingyu growls quietly with another harsh tug at your hair. His cock is slowly growing hard underneath the thin fabric of your skirt. "Keep talking like that and see where it'll get you."

You can't find a response. Instead all you can muster is a gasp when you feel Mingyu insert his fingers past the soaked fabric. It isn't enough. "Mingyu..." Your breathing grows ragged when you feel Mingyu's thumb swirl in circles on the inside of your slit and at the same time his fingers that are covered by your juices plunge in and out in a torturous rhythm.

"Well someone's wet," you hear Mingyu comment smugly as he retracts his digits from your folds to the open air. He chuckles at your silent protest, observing the string of glistening liquid connect from his fingers and to your crotch before grinning at you. "Look at how wet you are just from me fucking your mouth. You want a real taste? Cum on my fingers and we'll go from there, baby. Show me just how wet you can be and then, only then will you get what you want."

Mingyu plunges his long and thick digits into your dripping cunt and you cry out. "G-Gyu…" you whisper out as a surge of pleasure runs through you. Your wetness completely drenched Mingyu's hands, covering it in the scent and the warm texture of your arousal, as his fingers work relentlessly.

"Look at me," Mingyu commands sharply in your ear and you snap to attention instantly. Your half-lidded eyes meet Mingyu's burning gaze and the sly smirk on his face leaves you a panting mess as your cunt clamps onto his hand. "Fuck what the rest think," you hear Mingyu grunt and his free hand is pulling you close, with his nose pressed just below your ear, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear as he whispers. "Show everyone how badly you want me to fill you."

The burning heat that was pooling in your belly grows into a raging forest fire. Every bit of you is coated with the flames. Mingyu fucks you with the fingers, mercilessly curling and plunging at the exact right spot to make you squirm as his thumb continues to tease and draw circles around the little bundle of nerves. "Close. I-I'm coming, Mingyu."

His lips twist into a handsome smile, sending a surge of confidence. Mingyu ducks his head to hover dangerously close over your bare chest and after giving your breast a quick squeeze, bites harshly, causing a surge of pleasure-pain to tear through you. Your juices flow copiously and a whimper of pleasure escapes from you before you can stop it. Your muscles clench tight, your toes curl into the soft leather sofa and your head falls back against Mingyu's shoulder in ecstasy. Mingyu continues to piston his fingers within your velvety heat until he draws every ounce of the orgasm out of your trembling body.

Mingyu pulls his sticky digits from your now throbbing pussy, and brings the cum-covered fingers to his own lips. "You taste so good, babe," he whispers before looking back to you and bringing his fingers to your lips. "Open up." Obediently, your lips part for the fingers to slip past. Mingyu's long fingers dance within the warmth of your mouth, groaning at the warmth enveloping his fingers. "Good girl."

You want more. Even after being rewarded by the most earth-shattering and satisfying orgasm, your greedy core aches to be filled again. 

By him.

Lifting your hips and moving your panties to the side, you guide Mingyu's hard length into you without a single second thought. When you're fully seated, you finally release a content breath and slump into Mingyu's wide chest. "Fuck Gyu, you're so big," you manage to huff out in a high-pitched tone, breathing in the musky scent of him. "God, I needed this."

"How are you feeling?" Mingyu's palms glide gently down the smooth skin of your thighs.

You kiss him with fervor, cupping the back of his neck to pull him further towards you. "Just wonderful," you mumble against him before pulling away with a soft smile and then sink down on the firm length, savoring every inch of him. Mingyu is very large and girthy, and fills you nicely, with just the right amount of stretch. "Let's find out just how well your little cowgirl can ride you, cowboy."

"Be my guest," Mingyu licks his lips and sinks further down the sofa, eyes darkening. "Have a nice ride."

You begin a gentle pace, moving up and down his hard length and delighting at the sight. Mingyu's grip on your hips are so hard that you're almost sure that it'll be imprinted on your skin in the form of hand prints for days after. "Shit, Mingyu. You always feel so good." You whimper, rocking your hips at a rapid pace and enjoy the way Mingyu's thick cock drags in and out of you. "Fuck."

You curse, but Mingyu's attention is on the way you arch your back into him. He bites harshly on one pert nipple while his fingers massage the other, sending a current of electricity throughout your body. His deft hands trail up your body to cup your breasts and you shiver when his thumbs flit over the tingling peaks of your nipples, your pace never faltering even for a second.

He continues to play with the aching and sensitive peaks of your nipples, switching from harsh flicks to gentle strokes. All of these actions cause you to move faster. Without even a moment's hesitation, you latch your mouth onto his and tug the hat that still lays perched atop Mingyu's head over to your own and laugh.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of flesh hitting flesh and Mingyu groans underneath your ministrations. You've finally gotten a proper rhythm and pace going and with a tilt of your hips, you're seeing stars every time his cock strikes you at the perfect spot within you. "Do I look good in your hat, Mingyu?"

"I get why wearing the hat is a turn on," Mingyu rasps out as you continue to rock your hips and tighten yourself against his shaft.

"If you lose the hat, I'm not fucking you," you threaten teasingly and giggle, to which he rolls his eyes fondly, settling against the cushion and contentedly gazing up at your flushed, sweaty face with his cock deep inside you.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mingyu begins to grunt, hips jumping slightly. "Wouldn't dream of losing that hat," he swears with a nod.

"Promise?" You hum, brows raised innocently, not quite expecting Mingyu to reach up and press your hands in his hair, eyes gleaming dangerously. 

"Now why would I want to lose the hat, if all it takes is getting to fuck you like this?" Mingyu questions, the corners of his lips tilting into a smile before snapping his hips upwards.

"Shiiiit, I like where this is going." The last syllable escapes you as a long moan.

Mingyu laughs against your mouth. He winds the loose strands around his fingers and lightly pulls them out of your eyes to look at you properly. "Then do a good job, sweetheart. Keep riding."

You catch his lips in a desperate kiss, nipping at his lower lip with your teeth, as you rock down, pressing his length impossibly deeper inside you and grinding your clit down against the soft, tuft of hair that lay nestled above Mingyu's length, groaning at the friction, then slowly rise up again. The slow movement allows you to feel his full length and girth filling you to the brim.

Mingyu hisses. "Oh fuck... not going to last," he moans as his hips stutter against you.

"Me too," you whisper, rocking at a steady pace, fully enjoying the feeling of his hot dick as it stretches and hits the deepest parts inside you. The heat and pressure feels far too amazing, as a second orgasm creeps along your belly. "Going to... cum, again." You manage to stutter out, overwhelmed at how each thrust is jarring you so much to the point the sofa creaks lightly under you.

"That's my girl," Mingyu grits his teeth at your words, eyes rolling to the back of his head before fixing you with an intense glare. He's on the brink. There's absolutely nothing hotter than watching your pretty mouth form his name as you come undone in his lap. "Come on, do it. Cum for me."

"Cum in me, Mingyu," you beg as you dig your nails in his shoulders. "Let's cum together."

A roar rips through his lungs and with a shudder, Mingyu's release paints your inner walls and the stimulation is more than enough for you to also cry out as a second climax washes over you, his hot cum spurts into you and leaks past to his balls.

"Fuck..." Mingyu grunts with a groan as he tries to even out his breathing. "Goddamn that was really, really great." His length is softening, and he is coated in a light sheen of sweat.

You settle on top of him, sighing in pure happiness as he twitches and pulses within your overly-sensitive cunt. He rubs your hips gently, fingers squeezing in silent reassurance. "It was so, so, so good," you mumble back. You press a chaste kiss on his cheek with a smile and slide off of Mingyu, still whimpering slightly and reveling in the feeling of your cunt clenching around nothing and feeling empty. "I'm never letting you lose that hat."

His mouth turns upwards into an exhausted but affectionate smile and he rests his hat once more on your hair and begins to redress himself before glancing over at you, shaking his head in amusement. "Ready to head back?" He questions, to which you nod silently, allowing him to button up his shirt once again. "Round two back home?"

You smile devilishly and peck your boyfriend on the lips before stepping up to walk straight to the exit. "Round two begins the moment we enter the apartment," you laugh lightly as Mingyu saunters over and links his fingers with yours.

The music in the house is muffled from upstairs but a constant steady thumping of a drum set to a base. "Sure. You're not getting any sleep tonight, baby."

"Well, it's a good thing I can ride you like a horse all night long, cowboy." You place his cowboy hat on his head, giggle and pat him on the cheek and are practically dragging Mingyu towards the door with a happy smile. "Time to let a woman prove that she can save a horse and ride a cowboy!"

© xomakara All works on this blog are protected under copyright. I do NOT allow any of my works to be entered into any form of AI.

[bitchface24-7]

HE’S A WHAT?! - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: You're an exhausted student, plagued with too much assignments and riddled with insomnia. You've found an amazing ASMR artist called "The-Herald", their ASMR puts you to sleep almost instantly. Their voice immediately putting you into a drowsy state. So when you see a Patreon link regarding more videos, one specifically titled "Talking you through it | NSFW Audio (1mil subscriber) Special" It sparks your attention. Now you're hooked. Instead of being Pavloved into drowsiness, you've pavloved yourself into arousal. His voice sounds familiar though...

warnings: NSFW audio mentions, voice kink, masturbation, obsession, neediness, realizations, suggestiveness, grammarly is my beta, adding youtube and patreon to the arcane verse so lowkey a modern au! ???

genre: m/f

p.s. @melisshivering sent me a DM with a HOT Viktor NSFW audio (literally sounds so similar to him it's INSANE) and I came up with the idea with them for this fic. So send them some thanks as well if you enjoy this fic. I'll put the link at the end of the fic

As a top academy student alongside your friends Sky, Viktor, and Jayce, you're completely burnt out. Hours upon hours of studying, assignments, and working on the campus library to help pay for your tuition. You're riddled with exhaustion that just won't go away, and insomnia is kicking your ass.

"The-Herald" has been your saving grace. His ASMR videos captivating you, helping you quiet your mind as you fall asleep. He keeps his face out of the frame in all his videos, but you can imagine how attractive he is; especially due to his voice. It kind of reminds you of Viktor's.

Are you hyper fixating on this creator due to his voice and your massive crush on Viktor? No. Shut up.

So imagine your surprise when you see a Patreon link for more content, NSFW content specifically. Well... it wouldn't hurt to check it out...

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're addicted. Holy shit that audio couldn't have been any hotter. The orders, the praise, the degradation, the growly tone of his voice, the sound design.

Fuck... you don't think you've ever cum that hard before.

Your whining pants, your messy cunt, your aching wrist, and noisy bullet vibrator. You came in like ten minutes, you came again in less than two.

Who needs hookups when you've got The-Herald calling you a good girl in his sexy accent as he praises you for being good, and degrades you for being his personal slut.

Hopefully nobody finds out about your new obsession.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It's becoming bad how dependent you are on this man. You're constantly thinking about him. His voice, his words, how he makes you feel. He's honestly rivaling Viktor at this point for how bad of a crush you have on him; and you don't even know what he looks like.

You're down horrendous.

Like your entire libido revolves around this man.

You get one hell of a surprise on your next shift at the campus library.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here you are, doing your due diligence and retuning books to their proper shelves as you stop every once in a while to chat with your friends. Everything is awesome, it's great! Until Jayce throws a bomb at you.

"So, when're next uploading V?"

You pause your ministrations as Sky continues to work and the two men have a small conversation. Upload? What is Jayce talking about?

"Tonight, actually."

"Really? I though you only posted on Thursdays."

"Eh, I post when I want."

You butt in. No way... there's no way! "Uhhh... Post where? If you don't mind me asking." Jayce looks at Viktor and Viktor casually shrugs, "I run an ASMR channel. It helps me pay my tuition here, it's called The-Herald. Maybe you heard of it? It's been trending these past few weeks."

You accidentally drop a book.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

You've been masturbating to your friends voice, your crushes voice. You've pavloved yourself into arousal if Viktor says anything demeaning, praising, or that can pass as an order. You fucked up BIG TIME.

"What is wrong with you? Pick that up. You could've accidentally hurt yourself. Those textbooks aren't light you know?"

No goddamnit why?! It's like he can read your mind! You shudder out a sigh as you bend down and pick the textbook up, putting it away.

"Good girl."

A wheeze escapes you. Oh Viktor's just teasing you now and being an asshole about it. You look over your shoulder and see Sky and Jayce working together, Viktor is staring you down.

You quickly add, "Yeah I've seen it on my recommended tab. You've gotten quite popular, congrats!"

"Thanks, sweetheart." Viktor casually states, his eyes narrowed onto you as he smirks. He knows. He's gotta know! He's eyeing you down like you're a steak and he's starving.

Another hour passes by and you can feel Viktor's stare on you the entire time. Jayce and Sky pack up, Viktor stays behind.

His one reasoning being, "I don't have class tomorrow until three pm, the two of you have a class for seven in the morning. I can stay behind and make sure she gets home safe, you two can't."

Jayce and Sky can't argue with that logic, so they leave with some hugs and heartfelt goodbyes. Now it's just you and Viktor in this massive empty library.

"You're not very subtle you know." Viktor states as he runs a finger across multiple spines on the shelf, You put your tongue into your cheek, "What do you mean?"

"You've known about my channel for a while."

"You can't know that."

You turn around and Viktor's a few centimeters away from you, your noses are almost brushing together. His voice is quiet, but it damn near echoes in the silent library, "You shouldn't use a well-known nickname as your user ID. It kind of gives you away."

A sharp inhale is what he gets in response. Fuck. You didn't think about that. You assumed The-Herald was some stranger, not your friend. Not your crush.

"I didn't know it was you."

Viktor's eyebrow quirks up as he huffs in amusement, "You didn't know it was me? Wouldn't my voice give me away? My ah... accent isn't very common here."

"I didn't want to assume."

"So you subscribed to my NSFW channel, just cause?"

"I did that cause your voice is hot and it makes me cum quick."

Viktor steps back in some shock, his eyes minutely widened, "That was much more blunt than I expected."

You shrug, "It's the truth. I have a massive crush on you, this person's voice is remarkably similar to yours, there's dirty videos. One plus one equals two."

"You have a massive crush on me?"

You look down, trying to hide your face; Viktor doesn't let you. He pushes your head back up with his fingers under your chin, "Tell me sweetheart, be honest."

"Y— Yes."

Viktor hums in satisfaction, "Well I have a crush on you too."

A beaming grin overtakes your face. Your eyes glittery, you're even lightly bouncing on the balls of your feet. He likes you back!

"I have a question for you. Would you like to join me on my NSFW channel? I'm getting tired of using my hand and imagining you. I can have you for real now; only thing is you'll need to stay quiet."

You just nod, giggling in excitement. Holy shit, Viktor's your boyfriend now. You get that glorious voice everyday. You get him.

"Good girl."

Ahhh, he's gonna kill you one day.

You're not complaining, what a way to go!

I speed-wrote this so if there is any grammar or spelling mistakes, no there isn't.

Here’s the link 😏:

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Among Strangers | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: A handsome stranger takes it upon himself to take care of you in a crowded subway as you try to evade a man that had been following you after a night of drinking.

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, stalking, public unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, crowded area, sex with a stranger, biting, possessive chan, brief mentions of bondage and claustrophobia with a surprise ending. (I think that's everything)

an: This was first posted on my Wattpad but it was pretty ass and didn't do well so I fixed it up a little bit (a lot... Like it was so bad lol) and figured maybe it would be better appreciated here.

Part II

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

After a chill hangout at the bar with some friends from work, you all decide to head home. It's been a chill night with not too much drinking. Since you live close by, walking home seems like a good idea for some fresh air. But as you split from the group, you realize you're not alone. You start to get this eerie feeling like you're being followed. Looking over your shoulder you see a hooded figure and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. At every turn there he is, shadowing your every move, sending shivers down your spine.

Nervous about the idea of him following you home, you hop onto the subway thinking you could hide among a sea of people. With the size of the crowd there's no way he could find you. You're confident it'll work as you weave your way through the crowd, tripping over your own feet in a rush to lose him. You aim for the door at the end of the car on the other side just to create some distance between you and him. You steal a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding, checking if the man is still behind you. But in a rush, you accidentally step on someone's foot, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, cheeks reddening. “I'm so sorry.”

When your eyes meet the stranger in front of you, you're met with kind gentle brown eyes belonging to a beautiful man with dimples and perfectly styled hair buzzed slightly on the sides.

“No worries.” He smiles sweetly showing off his perfect dimples while his velvety Australian accent engulfs you and calms down some of the panic in your chest.

Looking over your shoulder again, you catch sight of the man coming into your view. His gaze meets yours, and a smirk plays on his lips before he casually looks away. Panic surges again, your moment of peace gone, sending your heart into overdrive and your eyes to widen in alarm. The handsome stranger in front of you notices your reaction and follows your line of sight to the man in the black hoodie, mirroring your concern.

"Hey, you okay? That guy giving you trouble?" His voice cuts through the chatter of the people around you. His voice, laced with a hint of concern and tinged with something darker, making you snap your attention back to him.

The dim subway lights overhead cast shadows across his young face, highlighting his handsome features more rather than diluting them. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach realizing just how worried for you he is. He glares at the creep and the muscle in his jaw ticks once.

“He’s been following me since I left the bar. I was too afraid to go home so I tried to make a detour to shake him off but he's fucking relentless.” you explain in a quiet hush.

The creep looks over at you again as if to make sure you're still in his eyesight and looks away quickly to not draw attention to his shady acts.

“Maybe he'll back off if he thinks we're together? He looked away pretty quick when he saw me. I'll stay with you for however long you need. Just to be sure that you're safe.” The stranger beside you says sweetly.

You felt fucking lucky to have run into someone willing to help you, to keep you safe. You could've ended up locked in some damp dark basement if not for this man you thought to yourself. You can already feel the mild tipsiness from the alcohol wearing off and you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.

“Thank you so so much.” You reply and the man holds his hand out for you.

“I'm Chris.” He gives you an award winning smile that lights up his whole face and yours.

You mirror his smile and take his hand. One shake and you gasp at the sudden static shock that you feel spread throughout your whole body rather than just your fingertips. His hand is soft and warm and your body suddenly feels hot all over as if you drank a lot more than you really did.

“Y/N.” You introduce yourself timidly and he gives a small nod of his head.

The train rattles to a stop and opens the doors behind you and Chris, letting on more people eager to get home after work. It becomes increasingly crowded and you're forced even closer to Chris. So much closer that you have to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to have some space, only for your back to hit the glass window of the other doors. Another stop and more people push in, bringing the creep closer to you and forcing Chris's chest to push into yours. He apologizes, placing gentle hands on my arms.

“If you get uncomfortable let me know. I'll try and make space.” He tells you, placing a hand above your head as the train rumbles along.

“Y-yeah okay.” You mutter, feeling the hard muscles underneath the white button up shirt he's wearing.

With the alcohol completely gone from your system now, you realize that the situation you're in is beyond embarrassing. Your breasts are rubbing against his chest with every rock and shake of the train in an almost lewd way. Granted you are thankful that he's keeping you away from being pressed up against some weirdo or worse the guy following you but still, It's awkward. There's no way he can't feel your heart beating so rapidly. The train makes a sudden bump and your bodies are pushed together even more.

“Sorry.” You whisper when your hands instinctively go around his middle. He chuckles and you feel it vibrate through your chest, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter awake.

“It's okay y/n. You give great hugs.” He says, the butterflies go mad and your face grows warm.

He's so sweet and so good looking there's no way he was flirting with me just now. No way, he's just a really sweet guy. Yeah… he's just being nice.

As the train continues to go on you feel eyes on you, burning a hole straight into your skull. Looking around Chris's muscular frame you see the creep, staring, lewdly licking his lips and undressing you with his eyes, no doubt. You squirm to try and get out of eye sight but Chris's strong hand holds you still.

“What's wrong?” He whispers. His voice makes you shiver against him and his fingers tighten on your arms briefly.

“That creep is staring at me.” It makes you feel disgusted. Your skin crawls the way his eyes slide over your face.

Chris curses under his breath and pauses. “I'll push up to give you enough space to turn around so he can't see your face. Maybe once these doors open we can quickly get off and lose him then.”

You nod at his idea and he pushes on the door, putting an inch between you two. It's not a lot of space to move but you try your best, turning around facing away from Chris and the creep. Now, at least like this, your breasts aren't crushed into him. Only now, your ass is pressing against his front. From one awkward situation to another…. This is what I get for going out after work on a Wednesday. You think to yourself. I should've gone straight home or at least changed.

The skirt you decided to wear to the office today is now hitched up just barely covering your ass. If you can just keep still maybe he won't notice and the situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it is.

“So uh what do you do for work y/n?” Chris asks and clears his throat. You can feel every word against your back.

“Uh, I work at CBO. I'm an editor over there.” You feel him nod behind you slowly.

“I heard they're supposed to get a new CEO. Some big shot is what the news is saying.” He responds but you shrug. You haven't heard much about the new CEO except for that he's the son of the previous CEO as well as the new owner now that his father is retiring.

“I'm sure he'll be a great boss. I actually haven't met him yet. I don't even know what he looks like” You utter softly sounding uncertain. Would he be a great boss? Would he take care of you? Who knows he could change everything with just one hand.

══════════════•✦•✦•══════════════

The train enters a tunnel and you watch the lights outside in the darkness flick and zip past in a blur before noticing Chris's reflection. His eyes are on you, studying your face in the glass of the door. Your eyes meet in the all the air gets sucked out of your lungs like a sudden punch to the gut. His gaze is smoldering, far too hot to be on the receiving end of such intensity. No one says a word although his lips slowly form a sexy coquettish smile.

“Do you need me to stay with you when we get off while you call your boyfriend?.” He whispers.

You shake your head no, eyes still on his reflection. “Don't have one of those but I can call a friend to pick me up.”

As you're about to open your mouth again to thank him for the hundredth time, the train comes to a screeching stop and the lights in the car go out. Men and women grumble and some even scream. The force causes Chris to slam into you and your skirt bunches up further about midway up your ass. In a panic you tell him and he curses under his breath.

“I'll try to fix it but I have to touch you, y/n. Is that okay?” Him asking for consent to touch you makes him that much more attractive.

“Yes, please.” You say, just as a voice is heard over the speaker.

“Passengers, please be patient there seems to be some debris on the tracks that is blocking our route. They're already taking care to remove it. We'll be moving on shortly.” The voice is replaced with calming elevator music playing loudly.

That's a smart way to keep everyone calm so that no one panics. Only one panicking right now however is you. The feel of Chris's fingertips against your bare thighs is driving you insane. His touch is hot but you shiver like his fingers are made of ice. Why is it turning me on so much when he's just trying to fix my skirt?. The move is too slow to be legal that's why. His movements feel so sensual.

“Sorry, I'm trying not to draw attention.” He explains as if he can hear your thoughts.

Shit you want to stop him. To say never mind and to leave it as is and pray that the train will be stopping soon to let some people off… but you don't. Instead you hold your breath and squeeze your legs together. Your arousal grows to an unbearable high. It's just a simple touch. Why is it driving you crazy? You aren't inexperienced at your age by any means. You've had lovers before but this man's fingers, they burn wherever he touches.

“The material of your skirt seems to be stuck on my fly.” He says and the urge to crawl into a hole is strong. “I can fix it but I'll have to lower my zipper. Tell me what you're comfortable with y/n.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear.

Loose tendrils of your ponytail flutter around your ear from his breath and you mentally remind yourself to breathe. Would it be selfish to ask him to lower it? What if he's uncomfortable with that? This isn't just about you now.

“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

He places his palm flat against your thigh comfortingly. “Whatever you decide, I won't be uncomfortable. As long as you're comfortable y/n, then so am I.” The conviction in his voice calms you and you give him a curt nod once.

“Lower it please.” You whisper, your voice sounding small with embarrassment.

His hand moves again from your thigh to your ass and you bite your lip hard. His knuckles graze the bareness and you unexpectedly feel him stir from inside his black slacks. Seems like I'm not the only one turned on by the other. Slowly and agonizingly, he lowers his zipper to not be heard over the piano and violin playing through the speakers.

“There. Are you okay?” You don't feel okay. You feel like you’re on the verge of dying from embarrassment and horniness. You can feel the opening of his pants against you and his growing erection pressing into your ass.

“I'm okay.” You lie. “Thank you Chris.”

Out of habit whenever you're riddled with anxiety, you shift your footing which only makes your ass rub against his erection more. “Shit. I'm sorry, I move around when I'm in an embarrassing situation and this takes the cake for me.”

He chuckles softly. “It's okay. I uh, I can't really control it unfortunately. Not when I've got such a beautiful woman like you in my arms. You make it… difficult to say the least.”

You rest your forehead onto the cold glass feeling the blush take over your whole face and he chuckles again.

“If I knew my evening would be like this I wouldn't have gone to happy hour with my co-workers.” Your sad confession fogs up the glass and you close your eyes.

He places a comforting hand on your hip. You're so packed he can't seem to stand the way he was before. His arms are restricted from raising any further than your hips now.

“It's okay y/n it's not all bad. We got to meet after all.” He says, making you smile.

“That's true. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't run into you.” His hands linger and you get so used to the heat that when he finally does move them away you feel cold and shiver under him. He groans softly, sending something like an electric current to the space between your thighs. That sound… you want to hear it more. Biting your lip you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Y/n…” Chris quietly says, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”

You shake your head feigning innocence. “My feet. It's these heels, I'm sorry.”

Why did I do that? I've seriously lost my mind but why do I want to do it again? The feel of him hard against your ass must be making you certifiably insane. This isn't right. Your better judgment screams at you. It's just your hormones getting out of hand.

When he places both hands on your hips and leans in, you expect for him to call you out on that blatant lie but instead he whispers, “Do it again.” All while slowly playing with the hem of your skirt.

You stifle a silent gasp, jaw dropping in disbelief, yet you obediently follow his instructions moving your hips just slightly. When you do, his left hand grips onto your hip tight and he sighs. His erection, that's fighting itself to stay inside the confines of his briefs, jerks forward against the fabric. Before you can shift again, his right arm wraps around you and his fingers find the wetness of your panties.

“So I'm not the only one fighting temptation I see.” His warm sweet breath fans across your cheek and your body sags a little in his arms when his fingers begin to dance.

Focusing on your breathing is all you can do so you don't faint from his touch. And trying to stay quiet now becomes a struggle the more his fingers move.

“Is this okay y/n?” You can only nod, too afraid of accidentally moaning and embarrassing yourself anymore today. He just chuckles and stops the torturous tango that his fingers were doing. “Use your words baby girl. Tell me if it's okay or not.” he instructs.

“Yes. It's okay, more please.” You hoarsely whisper, voice thick with lust.

Chris doesn't move, doesn't make a sound for what feels like minutes rather than seconds. Afraid that he might not have heard you, you open your mouth to repeat yourself when his fingers slip under the satin of your thong and into your slick folds.

“Good girl.” He says, his voice dripping with sex.

You lay your head back onto his shoulder as he works you just barely over the edge. Long fingers slipping in and out, massaging your thoroughly drenched cunt with ease. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit and everything around you begins to blur. Lust, that primal urge, it ignites like a flame inside you, pulsating with an insatiable hunger that courses through every fiber of your being. You're so close to cumming around Chris's fingers, soaking his hand with your desire. You want to tell him just how close you are but if you let up on the hold your teeth have on your bottom lip you won't be able to control the sounds you'll make.

The lights come on just as you're about to come undone and he quickly removes his fingers just as quickly as he inserted them. The train begins to move again and you squint at the sudden light overhead that blinds you, breathing heavily. Before your eyes can adjust to the light and before your core begins to crave Chris's touch, you feel him fumbling behind you freeing his cock and distracting you from the frustration of your denied orgasm.

“Is there anything I should know?” He inquires, sounding like he's in a business meeting.

You don't need to ask what he's referring to. The real question though is do you really want to do this here, with someone you just met? What if you get caught? You both could get arrested. You could get fired. But there's no room in your mind for logic right now with the thrill and your need to cum clouding you. Fuck it.

“No nothing, I'm good. This is what I want.” You see his reflection smile.

“Good. Now, keep your eyes on me y/n.”

You feel the tip of him, covered in precum pressed firmly on your ass and his hands slide under your navy skirt pushing it up further. He hooks his thumb under the string of your thong and pulls it to the side. Your eyes never leave his face.

“No noise.” He warns, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up just right.

His cock feels thick and hot slipping between your thighs. You're so wet that there's little to no resistance as he pushes further and further until he's fully inside you. You let out a shuddering breath and your eyelids flutter close, feeling his warmth.

“No noise, remember? Look at me y/n. I want to see you when you cum on dick.” He tells you quietly, his voice more quiet than a whisper.

Your eyes fly open and stare at his reflection in awe of how gorgeous and composed he looks. He looks calm, like he's doing nothing other than waiting for his stop but his hands tell you otherwise. You feel it in the way he's gripping you to steal himself and to keep from bucking his hips into you at full force like he wants to. Like you want him to.

Instead he has to go at such an aching delicious slow pace so that the people behind him or next to you both aren't aware of what's going on. Your fingers long to hold onto him, to anything really. You're stuck standing still with your palms flat against the glass in front of you. Your breathing begins to fog the glass but you keep your focus on Chris and notice how his eyes go half lidded.

The brown seems to have gotten darker than the warm milk chocolate from earlier. One of his arms snakes around you and he presses his hand flat on your belly giving him more leverage. When he starts to move just a tad faster your heart rate skyrockets. The fear, adrenaline and lust mixing together creates an intoxicating concoction. Every glance, every touch, becomes charged with an energy that enthralls you. Your pulse echoes in your ears, drowning out all rational thought.

Chris's thrusts are covered up by the rocking of the train as it speeds down the rails. Your orgasm isn't far at this rate. Like a slow burn you feel it building up. A simmering that starts deep within your core, radiating up and outward. You're struggling to stay standing, to stay quiet now.

Your breathing comes out in ragged pants and your knees threaten to buckle the closer he brings you to ecstasy. You aren't the only one struggling, Chris's breathing is just as shaky and primal as yours and you hear him whisper something in another language before he murmurs “Fuck.” Into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. When your walls tighten around him he curses again and his gaze looks wild.

“Why do you feel so good around my cock y/n?” He asks but you don't dare respond. He smirks, grinding himself into you. “You take directions s-so well. So… obedient.” He whispers.

You can hear how he's losing his control. His composure has melted away and he no longer looks calm and collected. He looks like a man high on sex and chasing the release that's within reach.

“Y/n… fuck. Tell me, can I cum inside you? Will you let me fill you? Use your words beautiful.” He nips your neck just below your ear and you tremble.

“Yes. You can,” You bite your lip again to hold back what would've been a loud gasp when the train jerks Chris forward causing his cock to slam into your sensitive cunt. “You can cum inside. I'm so close Chris.”

“Then cum baby. Fucking cream on it y/n. Shit, so good.

Hearing him lose himself like that is your undoing and you're falling apart around him. The air becomes heavy with the heady scent of arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirling around you and Chris like a seductive veil. Each breath is laced with the taste of pleasure. Time seems to stand still as you stare at him. Eyes wide as you breathe through your nose squeezing your lips shut tight desperate to make no sound at all. Your cunt convulses around his cock begging to milk it of every drop.

The aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. His own orgasm right at the edge. His arm tightens around you, hugging you closer to him. his breath becomes shallow and erratic as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whispers and he bites down hard on your neck over your fast pulsating pulse, sucking your flesh to keep himself from telling you how you belong to him now.

He bites you to keep the grunts and praises from tumbling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Because something about you makes him lose control. He doesn't do shit like this. He's careful, always planning and thinking things out. He just doesn't do spontaneity. He didn't plan this, it just happened. You just bulldozed into his life and he can’t get enough. What is it about you that makes him desire this cunt he's currently filling to the brim that he craves to make sore and swollen with his cock until the sun rises? Whatever it is, he's already addicted. He needs you in his own space, tied up nice and pretty like a gift only for him to unwrap. Fuck. He's already thinking of all the positions he'd have you in if you were at his place.

You watch in awe at how intense and irresistible he looks while he spills himself inside of you. His eyes hold so much power over you. You feel the weight of his possessiveness in his unwavering stare and it excites you immensely. You find yourself thinking of asking him to come back to your place where you'd be free to move around, cry his name out without anyone around. You're curious how sex with Chris would be in a more relaxed setting. If this orgasm was intense you can't imagine how it would feel when he isn't holding back.

He slowly pulls out of you, fixing himself as best as he can and then fixes your skirt back in place. He places a sweet kiss to the back of your head, chest still rapidly rising and falling. When you blush he chuckles.

“You're a cutie y/n. After all that, you blush from a kiss. So adorable.” He murmurs and you shift your feet. “If we don't get off soon I'll end up going for another round if you keep that up.”

You giggle and look back at him, “Sorry, I'll behave.” You sweetly say.

“What if I don't want you to?” He says instantly.

You blink at him, your face reflecting shock in the glass, and he chuckles. “To be honest with you y/n, I'd love to see you again if you'd let me.”

“Me? Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief.

“Of course. Preferably somewhere less crowded. I think after today I'll be just a little claustrophobic.”

You laugh and even after what just happened you can't believe how incredible of a guy he is. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you while you laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh y/n?” He whispers and you shake your head. “Why does something as simple as hearing you laugh make me so hard? What have you done to me?”

A shiver of pleasure runs through your body and he exhales quietly.

“I'd fuck you again right now if we weren't about to stop.” He tells you followed by the robotic female voice informing everyone to wait until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open.

As the subway doors slide open, Chris grabs your hand and pulls you through them, dodging the rush of commuters that are eager to go home. With ease he leads you away from the hooded creep that's desperate to find you, vanishing into the shadows behind a massive pillar. You peek out from behind Chris who scans the area cautiously. When the man doesn't see you he hops back on the train, disappointment evident on his face but relief floods over you. Glad that's over.

"Thank you Chris." you say, sending a quick text to your best friend for a ride. “For saving me I mean.”

"It was my pleasure, y/n." he replies smoothly, grinning at you, his gaze lingering on your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Anytime you need saving, or anything really just give me a shout, yeah?" He hands you a sleek black business card with fancy gold letters.

Maybe you will call him, because you really can't imagine that you'll get the memory of how he felt inside of you out of your mind. Besides, he made it very clear he wanted to see you again and how could you turn a man like Chris down?

After saying goodbye when your bestie arrives, you watch Chris walk away in the side mirror as the car eases into traffic. Glancing at the card in your hand, you see it reads "Chris Bang, CEO and Co-owner of CBO," and you feel a wave of shock and mortification wash over you.

“Who was that hottie?” Your friend asks bobbing her head along to the radio when she stops at a red light.

“My new boss…” You say, still feeling his warm cum still inside of you.

“Also... what the hell happened to your neck?”

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you. 

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.' 

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.' 

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.' 

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.' 

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.' 

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow. 

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.' 

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.' 

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.' 

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down. 

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement. 

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it. 

'So?' 

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara. 

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?' 

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.' 

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression. 

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that. 

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right. 

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow. 

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant. 

And a switch flicks in your head. 

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him. 

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.' 

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you. 

'You know Tara?' You nod. 

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway. 

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’ 

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second. 

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start. 

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content. 

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did. 

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky. 

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition. 

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.  

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips. 

And then he presses record. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Previous - Next

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

[nothorses]

You've made a lot of really great posts about transmasc experiences and struggles, and they really resonate with me! So I guess I want to in complete earnest ask: why the push for 'transandrophobia' when anti-transmasculinity as a term has been around for longer and faces little friction by comparison? I don't really *dislike* transandrophobia, but its meaning gets muddied everywhere from different directions, while ATM is pretty direct and succinct I feel. It's very clear that it's about TRANSmasculine oppression. I'm not against having a dedicated term at all, but the content of our struggles gets lost in the weeds of attaching kind of understandably divisive terms like misandry and androphobia in an attempt to mirror a phenomenon very specifically about misogyny; it seems more trouble than it's worth considering ATM is right there

I'll be honest, this ask is confusing to me for a few reasons.

When I started talking about transandrophobia around the summer of 2020, the conversations I was encountering were very much, like, a handful of people across Twitter and Tumblr (literally, a handfull!). I picked up "transandrophobia" because it was one of two words I saw in use, and the other- "transmisandry"- felt much less clear and much more contentious. It seemed super obvious to me that people would draw a line from "men's rights activists" trying to push this idea that "misandry", as a systemic oppression of men by women, to "transmisandry", and assume some ill intent where there was none. It's confusing!

"Transandrophobia" was the better of two options being floated at the time, at least in any conversation I saw. "Anti-transmasculinity" was not really a term I'd been made aware of, if anyone at all was talking about it at the time.

I have seen people pick up "anti-transmasculinity" more recently (maybe in the last year?), and this is definitely the first I've seen someone shorten it to "ATM". The people I've seen use that term have been mostly people who seem really new to the conversation, and the vibe I've gotten has been very, like, "we're the Good Transmascs, our word isn't dirty and gross like those other Bad Transmascs everyone hates. you'll listen to us now that our word is Good and Pure, right?"

Which is like... kind of frustrating, and kind of sad, honestly. I think these people honestly believe that if they just choose the right word, all the people who've been dragging me and every other transmasc talking about these issues through the mud for the last 4 years or so will really just stop & listen. If they can just say it right, these people- who have been relentlessly harassing and spreading lies about every single transmasc who came before them for years now- will care what they have to say, and will be willing to engage with them in earnest, compassionate dialogue.

If you just find the right word, all of these people will care about your hurt, your pain, and the suffering of your community.

It kind of breaks my heart. It's an incredibly hopeful, kind, loving way to view the world. It's compassion and patience and forgiveness that these folks are not being given, but that they so badly want to offer to others.

And at the same time, it sucks to be the Bad Transmasc. It sucks to have fought so hard for so long, and for the people I've been fighting for all this time to turn around and say, "you're gross, and dirty, and evil, and everything you've done is a mistake." It sucks to see the people I've been fighting for agree with the people I've been fighting against, and shove me under the bus in an effort to appeal to the people running me over with it. Knowing that the bus is going to aim for them once it's done with me just makes it sadder, yknow?

@saint-speaks wasn't the first person to ever speak the word "transandrophobia", but he is the one who coined and popularized it in its current form. And then he was dragged through the mud so hard and so brutally that some people think I coined it, just because when I defended him (too little and too late, imo) I withstood the mud-dragging better than he did (and gee, I wonder white.)

And now people take for granted that everything everyone said about hymn to justify that frankly fucking evil harassment campaign was true, actually, and we should abandon the word he coined and find one with purer origins.

If you honestly think "anti-transmasculinity" is just a more practical word, that's fine. I don't care what word we use. But they're going to cover it in mud, too. They're going to cover every one of you in mud.

Will you keep fighting for "ATM" once they make it the new dirty, gross, bad, evil word? Will you keep fighting when they drag you and everyone else through the mud for using it? Or will you agree with them, make up a new word, and never look back?

Please don't let us drown in the mud. We've been fighting for you, and we want to fight with you. Please.

[vrystalius]

hello! i'm thirsty for some douma fluff, so i'd like to request the fluffliest fluff of him and reader (fem or gn, whichever you prefer ;]) being the most clingy dorks in love, spending most of their time kissing and cuddling (bonus if his followers are witnessing the cute moment of both)

(if you can't do it, i'll understand. but either way, i love your blog, have a good day! <3)

His dearest darling

The founder and priest of the Eternal Paradise group is always so openly affectionate with you, is there something Douma’s followers haven’t seen him do to you?

Pairing: Douma x gn!reader

Includes: Kisses, Cuddles, love letters

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚ - Kisses

All day, all night, every hour and every minute. Douma loves kisses out of nowhere the most, surprising you every time. He likes seeing the look of surprise take over your face and your cheeks flush in the most beautiful colour as he snuck up from behind you and planted a featherlight kiss on your neck. Sometimes, he’ll spin you around and rip your attention away from whatever you were doing and cupping your face to plant a kiss on your lips, humming in content and pulling away with a big, stupid grin.

Your kisses give him small boosts of energy throughout the day and encourage him to keep going and endure all the stress and boredom that comes with being the founder and head priest of the Eternal Paradise cult. Douma doesn’t care who watching, if he’s feeling especially tired or bored, he will be making out with you wherever and whenever. The elders of the cult may be judging him for being so openly affectionate with you, but then again, why should he care? Douma can dispose of them easily anyway.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚ - Cuddles

Douma will whine and pout all day when you don’t give him the mandatory cuddles he needs to survive. He’s a very touchy demon, whenever you’re close, his hand is resting on your hip or interlocking fingers with yours, or mindlessly playing with your hair. He adores holding you close to his chest and feel your calm heartbeat through your skin and clothes, silently admiring the vulnerability you display over and over to him, wondering how you ended up falling for a demon like him.

Sometimes, some sort of cuteness-aggression takes over his whole body and Douma would pull you closely against his body, trapping your body in his arms and wrapping his legs around yours while laying on top of you, rubbing his cheek all against your face, sometimes even nibbling on your skin while squealing and cooing at you. After those sessions of your husband loosing his shit over you merely existing, Douma goes back to his duties and tasks like nothing happened.

It’s a little embarrassing when he does this randomly in the middle of the halls. His behaviour won’t be as aggressive, meaning he won’t pounce and refuse to release you until he’s satisfied, but he’d hug you tightly and cover your face in kisses before moving on.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚ - Letters

When you two are apart for multiple days on end, Douma makes sure to send out letters expressing his love for you every single day. Sometimes those letters include rather… explicit language when describing his longing and desire for both you and your body, but they do make you excited for returning back to him and demanding him to do the things he fantasises about in those letters.

Once, one of these lovely letters was handed to a follower that was supposed to send it out to you, but mistakenly opened and read it, believing it was meant for him. He never saw his priest in the same light as before and never shared with the other followers what he read inside that letter. Everytime that follower was asked about it, their expression would resemble the so called 1000-yard-stare.

💠

Gods, I missed this stupid demon so much XD I am so sorry that this took so long to post, I hope you enjoyed this anyway!! Thank you for requesting, I loved this <3

DRINK, EAT and SLEEP enough!

Make sure to take care of yourselves, mentally and physically <3

[streamdotpng]

Quick sale till... march? Maybe? Who knows, i'm trying to get verified in Vgen so i'll keep the sale going until i reach that or if there's too many orders

If you'd like more examples of my works, feel free to check the tags commission work, rendered, my art or ask for more in DM’s!

You can either commission me through Vgen or here. I'd appreciate it if its through vgen so i can get verified but if you don't feel like it, shoot me a DM and we can talk there.

Now, read everything below first before commissioning me.

🗐 COMMERCIAL RIGHTS

⚲ IMPORTANT!

Upon commissioning the artist, the client automatically agrees to the terms of service provided, as it is assumed they have read them. If there are any questions or concerns, feel free to reach out through DMs or my other socials.

No additional payments are required for the following, as long as credit is given with my handle "@streamdotpng" whenever used:

✔ Icons, Banners, Thumbnails, and Posts used for streaming or other content purposes.

If the art is used for commercial purposes, with the artist’s consent, the artist will receive an agreed-upon percentage of the sales profits.

✒ GENERAL

The Artist has the right to refuse a commission if they are not comfortable or confident about the request.

The client is allowed to ask for progress updates every 2-4 days and are freely given.  If it is a rushed commission, feel free to ask for more frequent updates.

By commissioning the artist, the client acknowledges that the artist is a student and this is not the artist’s full-time job. The client should not expect the artist to treat it as such.

Communications will generally be done in Vgen Chats (Please check your emails for chat notifications). Unless you prefer to communicate in other applications, that is also allowed as long as you let me know. Scroll down to see the end of my Terms of Service for my contacts or check the links in my profile.

Under any circumstances, Clients are not permitted to use any part of the commissioned artwork for non-fungible tokens (NFTs), blockchain, cryptocurrency platforms or AI Training. Such usage is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action taken.

✎ᝰ. CAN, MIGHT & WON’T DRAW!

╰┈➤ CAN DRAW !

Fanart

Shipping [GL, BL, Straight, Yumeship]

Original Characters

PNGtuber Models (e.g Blinking, Speaking)

Character sheets

╰┈➤ MIGHT DRAW ! (We’ll need to talk more about these requests)

Anthropomorphic animals

Heavy Armor

Excessive Gore

Comics

Complicated backgrounds (e.g. Detailed interior, buildings etc)

Honestly, if it isn’t in the "Can Draw" list, let’s talk about it!

╰┈➤✖  WILL NOT DRAW !

Depiction of suicide and self harm

Depiction of any type of hateful/political art

Anything that crosses my personal boundaries 

⏱ TIMELINE & WORK PROCESS

Work completion will take at least 1-2 weeks minimum, depending on the amount of commissions worked on. 

My work process simplified: Draft and Line Art ➤ Colouring ➤ Final Touches.

My work process expanded on: Draft ➤ Line Art ➤ Flat Colours ➤ Shading ➤ Final Work.

After completing each stage, I will contact you for either payment or revisions and thoughts. 

$ PRICING & PAYMENT

Prices vary depending on the commission. I’m flexible, but here are some base prices:

$5-10 USD depending on the background

$10-15 USD per person added

Note: There can be additional charges due to PayPal fees.

Half the payment is expected to be paid upfront Post-Draft or Post-Line Art. The rest of the payment will be paid fully after the Flat Colours are seen and approved. If payment hasn't been received, the Artist will not continue until then.

The option to fully pay upfront is allowed but must be talked about before sending over the money.

No refunds are allowed after the draft has been sent.

You can pay through PAYPAL, KOFI or VGEN

↺ REVISION POLICIES

Once the coloring stage begins, the only major revisions permitted are details that the artist may have missed and was specified by the client while the commission was still in the sketching/lineart stage (e.g. a missing tattoo that’s essential to the character’s design).

If the client is unsatisfied with the commission Post-Line Art, the artist is willing to discuss and make minor edits as stated prior (e.g. adjusting colors). However, the artist will not redraw the piece and expects full payment, as the client should have specified in the sketch stage the changes they wanted to be made.

The client may not hire another artist to adjust the image without the artist’s consent.

The artist is willing to edit the image post commission for the commissioner, but may charge a small fee depending on what is being asked of them

🛈 RUSHED COMMISSIONS

Rush Fees apply. Contact me first to discuss how much you’re willing to pay for the rush fee.

The fastest turnaround time is 1-2 days (maximum 4 days) with the same quality as my usual work.

For short deadlines, you must be responsive when it comes to communication. It'd save us both the headache and worry.

▸ DISCLAIMER!

Breaking or disrespecting the rules of the Terms of Service will lead to a permanent ban and you will be blacklisted. It means, users who break the Terms of Service will lose the rights to commission me.

However, I may allow second chances. Blacklisted users can contact me with proof of improved behavior to request removal.

---

…and that’s about it? Just don’t expect me to be obligated to draw something and we’ll figure something out. Not to mention that depending on how much commissions i’m getting and how busy i am, the art will take atleast a few days to a week!

If you got references, provide them! It’ll help alot. You can also ask for progress updates, just don’t mind me accidentally not seeing the message bc this is tumblr and I don’t get notifs for some reason.

That’s about it, thanks for seeing this yall. Again, If you want to see more examples, simply look at my art tags in my account or send a DM and i'll send some over there.

[quartzalynlove]

Coming Home Injured

Pairing: Liu Kang, Kenshi, Johnny Cage, Raiden, Sub Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile x fem!reader (separately)

Summary: returning from a mission with a few bad injuries

Warnings: Canon typical violence, some descriptions of bad wounds

A/N: let's see if I can make personalized pet names for each of them without them being cringe. Feedback encouraged. Also if we're gonna keep writing for all 8 of these guys at once it's gonna take a minute for me to post so sorry abt that but more mk1 content is coming

Liu Kang

The two of you sat in silence from the moment you returned home. You had completed the mission, but only by an inch of your life. The image of Liu Kang's concerned face, before you fainted in his arms, was still clear in your head.

Liu Kang assessed your injuries before treating them, trying not to be alarmed by the long, deep gash cut from your side into your abdomen. All the while, that look on his face never faded. You had seen Liu Kang when he was concerned many times, but this was different. That crease between his brows was deeper for some reason. As his hands shook, uncharacteristically, while he cleaned your wound, you finally identified the expression. It was the same one you saw when Kenshi lost his sight on the mission to capture Shang Tsung.

"Darling," your voice was weak as you looked down at him.

Immediately, Liu Kang's eyes shot up at you. With his worry growing, he placed a hand on your thigh.

"My light, please do not exert yourself."

Slowly, your hand took hold of his. Your grip was so weak that Liu Kang could hardly bear it. Instead, he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. You felt a shuddering breath against your skin as he pulled away.

"Don't you think you're a bit too concerned?" You asked.

With deep regret, Liu Kang bowed his head, not able to look at what he'd done to you.

"You shouldn't have returned this injured," his low voice started to break. "I shouldn't have—"

You stopped him before he could say another thing, "Lift your head," you told him.

Liu Kang looked up at you, slowly, his breaths still heavy and unsteady.

"You used your judgment as well as you could, and I fulfilled your orders. I came back to you."

Starting to calm, Liu Kang nodded in understanding.

"Not every round of Kombat is easy, but I'll be okay."

Upon seeing your reassuring smile, Liu Kang's breathing finally steadied, and his grip on your hand started to soften.

Kenshi

You winced in pain as Kenshi finished a stitch on a rather brutal injury. If he hadn't gotten to you sooner, the blood loss would have killed you. What you did lose on your staggering trek back home already made you lightheaded. Kenshi insisted on you resting; he made you something to eat and made sure you were drinking water. As you laid on the couch, resting yourself after a tough mission, Kenshi was rubbing your feet. You noticed his clenched jaw and the tight line his lips formed. Part of you wished you could sit up and hold his face, but you didn't want to risk popping a stitch while it was still fresh.

"What's on your mind, Kenshi?"

He turned toward your voice before trying to dismiss you with a shake of his head. "Nothing, my flower. Please try to rest."

"Don't say 'nothing' when it's clearly something, love."

You didn't say anything else, still too out of it to try and coax anything else from him. Thankfully, he wasn't going to make you do the work.

"I should've been there," He said quietly. "If I were there to protect you, you this wouldn't have happened."

Kenshi was such a gentleman, your very own knight in shining armor, but he often piled too much on his plate without noticing. He did know he didn't have to save you every time, didn't he?

A lazy smile graced your face, "Honey, I'm fine." You told him.

"You aren't fine—"

You interrupted, "I'll be fine," you said slowly. "You've patched my wounds, forced food and water down my throat, and you're even keeping me company here and rubbing my feet. You've saved me already, my hero."

Kenshi sighed as your words put him at ease, silently accepting that you were right.

"Besides," you continued. "I'm a big girl; I can handle myself. You should ask Sento to show you the other guy."

As Kenshi started to chuckle, you wore a proud smile before feeling yourself fall asleep on the couch.

Johnny Cage

Johnny was all over the place. While you held onto your side on the couch, he searched the area frantically for God knows what. All you could hear was his half-rambled sentences around.

"Johnny." You tried to get his attention.

He stopped for just a second just to point a finger at you. "Hey, don't move over there. I just gotta..."

As he left again, you let your head fall back, sighing in pain.

"I'm calling Liu Kang." You said.

Something in the kitchen clattered as Johnny shouted. "No, don't call him; I've got this!"

"I've been bleeding on our couch for five minutes!"

Sighing, Johnny came back again and looked at you. In any other circumstance, it would be cute how frantic he was over you. Unfortunately, however, your life was at stake and he was running around the house like the Roadrunner. Finally, Johnny finished assessing your injuries.

"Water," he snapped his fingers. "I'll get you some water."

"Johnny!" You stopped him before he could take off again.

In Johnny's defense, he was very worried. It was written all over his face. As you sighed, you spoke to him very carefully.

"I keep a first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet."

With many understanding nods, Johnny seemed to calm down before heading to the bathroom.

"First aid kit," he said to himself. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Raiden

You didn't know how you were still alive, and if it weren't for Raiden, you'd surely be dead. Once you got through the portal, you tried to make it home to him, but Raiden ended up finding you collapsed on the academy grounds as blood quickly made a pool around your stomach. When you came to, the only sensation you could make out was Raiden's feet striking the ground as he ran with you in his arms. You must have managed to say something because you saw his eyes meet yours before darkness obstructed your vision again

The next time you woke you were somewhere indoors. A bright yellow light blinded you before your eyes could adjust. You felt Raiden squeeze your hand as your head turned.

"You're awake." He gasped.

All you could muster was a faint smile. That searing pain from the gash that opened your stomach still wasn't gone.

"Not for long." You said weakly.

Raiden's face became worried as he inched closer to you from his chair at your side.

"I must keep you awake," he said almost as a plea to you. "I've taken you to the medics, and they said if you wake I couldn't let you close your eyes again."

You whined with a frown. "It hurts, Raiden."

Raiden brought his free hand on top of yours, trying to comfort you with small rubs.

"I know, but I am here. I've got you."

As you looked at Raiden, the pain seemed to lessen. Everything felt warmer as long as you focused on him.

"I bet Shao thought he killed me." You said.

A bright smile appeared on Raiden's face at your decision to stay with him. "He is in for a surprise the next time you meet."

Sub Zero

You were a victim of Bi-Han's cold frustration. Honestly, it agitated you more than the searing pain caused by the cleaning of the open wound across your side.

From the moment you came back to him, limping through the front door with the last of your strength, he didn't utter a sound. You remained in awkward silence as he had you sit on the kitchen counter with your back straight while he patched you up.

As he stitched you up, Bi-Han was moving at a harsh pace. It wouldn't harm your wound, but it was almost more painful than the wound itself. Bi-Han was aware of the sharp breaths you sucked in and pained gasps, but they were no deterrent to quickness.

"Bi-Han," you finally snapped at him.

With a cocked eyebrow, Bi-Han stepped back, eyeing you with such an icy glare and that scowl you thought wasn't welcome in your home.

Your eyes searched his face, hoping to find your lover buried beneath that avalanche, "You're hurting me." You said.

A scoff came from Bi-Han as he attempted to work on you once again. "This can't hurt nearly as bad as your other injuries."

You wouldn't let him come back to you, however, pushing him back with the palm of your hand. "Well, it isn't exactly helping."

Bi-Han folded his arms over his chest. "Do you expect me to coddle you?"

"Some sympathy wouldn't hurt." You spat back.

In disbelief, Bi-Han came back to you, forcing himself into your view. "You want my sympathy for the consequences of your reckless actions? My assistance is enough comfort."

He readied the needle for the next stitch, but before he could jam another hole into you, you took the needle out of his hand.

You didn't look at him as you spoke. "I would rather help myself."

After staring at you for a moment, Bi-Han walked away with a grunt. However, even as he started to leave, your wincing continued. You tried to finish the stitching yourself, but the wound was in such a place that you couldn't reach it without straining the rest of your body. Not to mention aggravating the wound itself.

Bi-Han couldn't bear to watch and listen to you struggle. You were only hurting yourself more. Casting his face down for a moment, Bi-Han exhaled before returning to your side.

Before you could begin another stitch, you felt a cold hand stop the needle.

"The stitching will be ineffective this way."

That growl had left Bi-Han's voice, and his face softened, save the deep crease between his brows. Although his gaze would not meet yours, you gave the needle back to Bi-Han, feeling in the air that his anger had dissipated. As he went to work once again, he was much more gentle, and his work didn't hurt nearly as much. Still, he was very quiet. It was clear he wasn't angry with you anymore, but something still troubled him.

Once the stitch was finished, Bi-Han went to tend to your smaller injuries, remaining so quiet and drawn away from you. As he went to clean a cut on your cheek his eyes remained fixated on the wound, not once glancing towards you. Becoming concerned for him, you stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Bi-Han," you began turning to face him, but his face turned away. "Will you look at me, sweetheart?"

He couldn't; he was ashamed to do so. Although he should have had better control over himself, Bi-Han lost his temper with you.

"I was worried," he said, his face finally falling. "Seeing you come home in this state concerned me. I'm sorry I let it contort into anger."

With a small smile, you took the side of Bi-Han's face in your hand, fixing it towards you. It melted him a bit to see your face. Even after how he had acted, you still smiled at him.

"I knew of your anger long before we got together," you said. "And while it can be frustrating, that doesn't mean I'm not willing to work through it as long as you are."

Bi-Han leaned into your touch, sighing as he let his eyes close. "Just promise you'll act more carefully on future missions."

Scorpion

Kuai Liang tended to the large gash across the length of the back. The wound was deep and wide, he could hardly fathom how this had happened to you. However, his focus remained on bandaging you before it suffered any infection. Kuai Liang worked gently as he secured the bandages around you, but you dreaded turning back to him. Once you did, you turned away quickly from his gentle face, eager to get away from where his eyes gazed. Confused by this, he stopped you, taking a soft but firm hold of your arm.

"You should let me help with getting you ready for bed. I don't want you exhausting yourself, precious."

You huffed, but couldn't lose your temper with Kuai Liang's warm eyes gazing at you. Still, you snatched your arm back, turning your back to him again.

"I can manage, Kuai Liang." Your tone wasn't exactly angry but somber instead, bringing a confused expression to Kuai Liang's face.

He started to catch up to you again, "Your injuries are very serious, Y/N." He said as a word of caution.

As your jaw clenched, you quickly turned back to Kuai Liang, your tone more serious now. "And I said I can manage."

Suddenly, a sharp pain radiated through your shoulder, causing you to wince and grab at it. You turned too fast. Kuai Liang placed a hand on your shoulder, generating the softest heat to ease the pain.

"Beloved, what is wrong," He said with concern as he turned back in front of you. "It can't just be your injuries making you this upset."

With a soft sigh, you started to break your frustration, letting the sadness you truly felt manifest in your face, "Aren't you disappointed?" You looked up at him.

Kuai Liang's brows furrowed in confusion. Your expression was so sad and apologetic. How could you think he was disappointed?

"In you," he asked in disbelief. "Of course not, precious. Why would I be?"

Gesturing to yourself, you let out a shuddering breath, "Look at me," your voice began to break. "This is no state for a champion to be in after Kombat,"

Kuai Liang felt his heart break; he knew you always held yourself to a status that kept you worthy of the mantle that was Earthrealm's champion, but he hated to see you acting this harshly towards yourself.

As tears started forming in your eyes, you continued. "You and your brothers fight to bring honor to your clan's name; you persist no matter the challenge. How can I be a champion when I haven't done the same for Earthrealm?"

You faced the floor as tears streamed down your cheek, but Kuai Liang wouldn't let you shut yourself out from him again. Lifting your head with his index finger, Kuai Liang started wiping your tears as his hands cradled your face.

"Beloved," his voice was soft as he spoke to you. "You accepted your challenge and fought with all you had. Honor isn't about winning but fighting valiantly in the name of your clan. By engaging in Kombat for the glory of Earthrealm and its champions, you have brought honor. For that, I am proud of you as I always am."

As your tears slowed, Kuai Liang gazed into your eyes with a nod of understanding. Once you nodded back, he planted a kiss on top of your head.

Smoke

Tomas hadn't left your side since you returned home last night, and though he tried his best to conceal it, you could feel how worried he was. All of your wounds were patched up, and you were starting to feel better, but he still insisted on doing every little thing for you. It was sweet; you knew how much he cared for his loved ones, especially you, but he did know you'd be okay, right?

By the time you had woken up, Tomas was in the shower, and you were starving. It wasn't going to strain you to cook breakfast, so that's what you went to do.

You had just begun cooking when Tomas came out of the shower. When he returned to your bedroom and found the bed to be empty, he froze in fear. Frantically, he hurried around the house, looking for you. It didn't take him long to reach the kitchen where you were cooking at the stove.

"What are you doing out of bed, my love?"

You turned to see Tomas' concerned face. Smiling, in hopes you would put him at ease, you gestured to the pan of bacon on the stove.

"Cooking," you answered him. "I'm hungry; I bet you are too."

With a small frown, Tomas sighed softly as he leaned against the island, "I could've handled this." He said.

As you turned back to the stove, you nodded. "Yes, but you were in the shower. Besides, I felt like cooking."

You could hear Tomas grumbling behind you as he came closer. Suddenly, he put his hand on top of yours, trying to take the pan from you.

"I'd much prefer it if you stayed in bed, my love."

Tightening your grip, you looked back at him. "I've been in bed since yesterday evening, let me cook us breakfast."

By this point, Tomas didn't know what to do other than pout disapprovingly, but you weren't going to have it.

"Tomas," you called him. "Look at me."

With a sigh, he listened, backing up to eye you before you explained your instruction.

"I'm doing better. It's not like I'm going to fall over at the stove."

He tried to interrupt, "You don't—" But you silenced him with a hand on the center of his chest.

You continued softly. "Go sit down and wait for your food."

The two of you shared a brief look before you closed your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. Once he did, you opened your eyes to Tomas walking to sit at the table.

Reptile

You hissed as Syzoth finished a stitch on your shoulder.

"I know it hurts, but we're almost done." He tried to calm you.

Usually, you tried to fight him when he patched you up, but you came home in pretty rough shape. The only complaining you could manage was in the form of winces and grunts. Syzoth never really minded, though. If anything you reminded him of his younger siblings when they'd hurt themselves playing.

"There," He said, putting the needle down. "You'll be fine in a few days."

As Syzoth looked at you with a soft face, you couldn't help feeling a small sense of shame.

"I'm sorry." You apologized, playing with your hands in your lap.

Syzoth tilted his head at you. "For what?"

"I can be so stubborn when you're only trying to help."

An incredulous slithering laugh started to leave Syzoth at your words, confusing you a bit. Putting your hands in his, Syzoth looked into your eyes.

"Firefly, I have faced much worse than you upset about getting a few stitches. As long as you're okay, you can bicker and grunt at me all you like."

Syzoth kissed you on the forehead before leading you to the bed.

"I never did ask how your opponent ended up." He looked over at you.

With a proud smile, you answered him. "Let's just say if I was injured the same, would have done more than bicker at you."

[iidesxreii]

Fire, meet Medicine - E. Buckley

╔ Pairing: Evan Buckley x Plus Size!Black!Doctor!Reader

☆ Word Count: 3.2k

☆ Category: Fluff (near the end)/SMUT! (18+ YOU HAVE BEEN FOREWARNED)

☆ Summary: You find yourself at a halloween party with one particular person fighting to get your attention. And when he does, all hell breaks loose.

☆ Content: First meet, makeout, SMUT!!!!

╚ A/N: Since my first fic did so well (in my opinion) I guess I'm gonna keep going with posting my drafts. I have about 4 drafts that can be tied into this so I'm going to call this a series and just go through with posting these on Wednesdays. I'll post regular fics on Saturdays instead. This is written with a plus size, black female character in mind. I don't see a lot of Black!reader fics let alone PlusSize!reader fics so I decided to make one for myself as it is my ethnicity. At some point it will be VERY known, but hopefully it doesn't bother any of you! ALSO!! I know my smut scenes suck, I'm trying and working on them to get better. If you have ANY tips, and I mean ANY, please send them in or message me about it so I can get better. Literally anything to make my fics better helps.

As always, even if you hate it, let me know. constructive criticism is always welcome when it comes to my writing.

═══════ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ｡･ ═══════

You check your outfit over once more before turning in the mirror and making sure your modesty is still intact. It was halloween and you were finishing up your outfit. Which consisted of a small green dress, some wings you found last minute and a whole lot of glitter. You flattened out your dress before grabbing the clutch you had packed before you started getting ready. It had all of the normal necessities. A card holder, keys, lip gloss, makeup wipe, compact mirror, a stain remover stick and a miniature deodorant. You grabbed your phone off the charger and checked the time. The party you were attending was across town and had started at 10. You on the other hand hadn’t gotten off your shift until 11 and rushed to get ready as quickly as possible. You knew the party wasn’t going to end soon since it was an LA party, but you still wanted some time to mingle about. 

You make your way down the stairs of your loft and into your living room area to check on your dog. Cerberus was fully capable of protecting the apartment while you were gone, but you always made sure to check on him before leaving. Your heels click against the hardwood as you walk over to your dog and rub your hand against his head. He makes a little sound which has you poking your bottom lip out. You almost cave in and say fuck the halloween party. You could have your own. You, Cerberus and a bucket of candy from the store. You sigh and shake your head before heading into the kitchen. You check his automatic bowls before peeking back at him in his bed. You blink a few times before making your way to the door and heading out, locking the door behind you.

You put in for a rideshare and make your way down to the lobby. The rideshare app dinged and you were donned with a wait time of 3 minutes. You shuffled a bit as you felt the eyes of your doorman on you. Connor was nice, you spoke to him every once in a while but not like you spoke to Fredrick. Frederick was your favorite, he treated you like his own daughter. Asking about your residence at the hospital and making sure you were taking care of yourself. You spoke to him every morning and you were sure you wouldn’t miss another chat tomorrow morning. Maybe you’d bring him a coffee. Before long your phone is pinging and letting you know your ride was outside. You make your way outside and get into the car. Immediately your trek starts and you’re on your way.

You walk into the house of your friend who was hosting the party and sca around for her. You wanted to say hi before heading anywhere else. The minute you walked through the door boys looked your way. Some approached but others just watched, you could feel their eyes digging into you. Before long you find your friend and give a hug before thanking her for the invite.

“You look so good! I’m so glad you could make it. Hopefully residency isn’t so bad?” Your friend, Emara, gave you a hug before looking you over once. Emara was your dorm mate in med school. You guys clicked almost immediately and clicked even better when she found out you were 2 years younger than the preconceived notion she had placed on you. She wasn’t aware she was bunking with a ‘literal genius’. Her words, not yours.

“It’s just as I expected! How is yours?” You look over her costume and smile. She was of course dressed as a sexy nurse. She was waiting for residency before she pulled out all the stops. She was waiting for the chance to actually drop the bomb that she was a doctor.

“Calmer than North Med! Enjoy the party and the hotties! We’ll have to catch up later on!” She turns and heads off into a crowd with a handful of shots in her hands. You turn towards the makeshift bar and pour yourself something to drink. You turn around and lean on it before noticing the lovely, and very hot, man dressed as Robin. He had his eyes on you, and you were attempting to ignore him. You turn away from him and make your way deeper into the crowd and away from his eyes. A good 15 minutes later you find yourself talking to a girl that was also a student at your med school. Though you had never formally met her, you were excited to talk to her. You had also managed to avoid the blonde haired boy pretty nicely. Ever since the encounter 15 minutes ago he’s been trying to get to you, but you wanted to play the long game first. 

You hadn’t let yourself experience a relationship in a while seeing as you were always busy with schooling, then med school came around, and then residency. You had no time for a relationship back then, or right now. But you could have fun in the meantime. You turned to the girl and said you were going to grab a drink and heeded off towards the counter. You stopped to grab another drink and managed to slip away to the backyard as you noticed the guy coming your way. You stayed hidden from him for a while before you caught him coming at me from a little ways away. You tried to hold back a smile before turning to him as he approached you. He stopped right next to you and made no effort to speak to you just yet. You sipped your drink and checked the time on your phone that you had pulled out of your clutch when you were getting that other girl’s number. 1:38. It wasn’t like you had work tomorrow, but you still wanted to be in bed by a certain time. 

“Are you playing a game with me?” The guy turned to you ever so slightly and you giggled into the cup that was at your lips. You peeked at him for a second before taking another sip of your drink and turning to him fully.

“It’s my first night out in like a couple months. I just wanted to have a little fun is all.” He drank the rest of his drink and he sat it down somewhere. He turned back to you and asked a question. 

“And why did you choose me to play it with?” You looked up into his eyes. He was taller than you expected and you kinda liked that. He had a birthmark above his eye, he smelled like alcohol and it was mixing with something so good. You couldn’t explain it. It smelled like something You needed in your apartment all the time. If you were being honest, you wanted him in your apartment all the time. The things you’d do if you had his scent near you all the time. Wait…no. 

“I dunno. You were cute. And you caught my eye.” He shook his head and let out a low chuckle. It riveted into your brain and straight through you. It was hot, fuck that, it was sexy. You loved the sound. And you wanted to hear it again and again and again.

“Ah. Cat and mouse. Which one am I?” You let out a giggle and shook your head. He had a point. But you weren’t sure which one he was. You bit your lip and scanned his body, you didn’t know if this was the alcohol talking or if you genuinely thought this, but why were you running from someone as sexy as him? Instead of running you should’ve been getting your payback for the last few months. You were in desperate need and you had finally found something that appealed to you as much as your vibrator did. 

“What’s your name?” was what came out of your mouth. You watched confusion pass by his face before his answer slipped out of his mouth with a quickness. 

“Buck.” You raised your eyebrows at that answer. Who names their kid Buck? But like he read your mind he continues. “It’s a nickname. I-it’s my last name. Evan Buckley…hence the Buck…” You shook your head and smiled as you extended your hand. You think it was the alcohol hitting. Whatever you mixed in those few cups were coming back to bite you in the ass.

“(Y/N), nice to meet you Buck…but I have a proposition.” He made a face and you assumed he was listening. You placed both hands onto his shoulder, and leaned up to his ear. You were close enough to whisper but not to get lip gloss on it. “I’m not going to lie, this could definitely be the alcohol talking but, I’ve never met someone who appealed to me as much as my vibrator did. And I’d kill to have her right now. So instead, how about we get one more cup of whatever it is they have in that kitchen, get shit faced and make our way to the bathroom. That way, I get what I've been needing for 9 months, and you can learn my last name.” You leaned back onto your feet and winked at him. He easily grabbed your hand and beelined his way to the kitchen area. You both grabbed a cup each, and downed it in that same second. Then you made a direct line for a bathroom. You both make it to a bathroom and the minute the door closes your back is pressed against the door with his hands running all over your body. His hands felt so good running over your body, everything felt surreal. This is exactly what you needed in your life. Or at least right now at this moment. 

He pulled away for a second and instead went into your neck. Sucking, licking, soft kisses, all of it was pushing you to the edge. His hands found your ass and gripped it tightly, which made you moan. In turn, you rake your hands down his back and he almost growls in your ear. He pulled away from your neck and quickly lifted you onto the bathroom counter. The feeling of the cold counter threw you off for a second making you gasp and arch your back. He took this as an opening and pushed his way in between your legs. He began rubbing your thigh with one hand and dipped his head back to meet your lips in a kiss. You felt him grind against you and your eyes almost rolled out of your head. There was a knock at the door and you both ignored it. You wanted this. You needed this. Nobody could stop you from going through with this right now. Then there was another knock. And another and another and another. It was constant at this point, and you knew it was only going to get worse. You pushed him back a bit before checking your phone. 2:10.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

By 2:27 Buck has you pushed up against his door and is trying to unlock it to no avail. You release him and he grumbles as you step to the side to allow him to unlock the door properly. You were sure that if he didn’t get the door unlocked he was going to have you in any way in the hallway of his apartment building. The lock clicks smoothly and Buck opens the door before bringing you in. Before you can get a look around you’re tugged into him and he’s picking you up with ease. Before you know it you’re being tossed onto a bed.

“Are you sure about this?” Buck is standing over you and your mind is anywhere but vanilla. You watch as he takes his shirt off and you almost pass out from how good he looks. Instead of marveling like you want to, you find his eyes again and smile.

“Thinking I’m going to change my mind Buckley?” You’re perched up on your elbows and Buck is eyeing you up from head to toe. You watch as his eyes darken and his pupils dilate before they find yours.

“I’m all about consent.” His smile is shit eating and you almost find it funny. He leans down and places both hands on the bottom of the bed. He’s leaned over almost primal looking. He’s cute, what else can he do?

“That’s hot.” you mean it towards him, but the consensual part is just as hot. You bite your bottom lip and motion for him to come to you. He crawls up the bed and you find it in you to take off the dress you’re wearing. As the dress passes your eyes you find Buck sitting back on his ankles undoing your heels. He takes one off, and then moves to the other. Your heels are soon discarded along with your dress and wings. His pants soon find a home on the floor with your costume and you both are back to kissing. His kisses trail down the valley of your breast, over your belly button and to the top of your underwear. He looks at you before watching for any type of wavering. When you nod he drags your underwear down and is faced with your soaking cunt. He all but groans as he licks a tender stirpe up your center. You shudder and reach for his hair. As you come in contact with his locks he dives into you licking recklessly. Sucking, licking, hot breaths passing your sensitive bud. Everything feels much better than you could’ve imagined. He hums something and your back arches. Your breathless moans push him over the edge and he finds every way to get you to react like that again. You feel the bud in your stomach growing and your grip on his hair gets tighter. He flattens his tongue against you and you immediately find release. 

He doesn’t let go though, he moves and inserts two fingers into you making your legs wrap tightly around his head. He takes this as something you liked and continues digging into you. He takes his time exploring the inside of you and your moans become a mix of heavy breaths and incoherent words. He finds that ever loving squishy spot and picks up his pace. Buck watches as you fight the inevitable, taking pride in the fact that he’s doing so well you think you have to hide anything that falls out of that pretty mouth of yours. You, on the other hand, have to stop the string of curses that threaten to fly out of your mouth. Buck finds your bud once more and expertly licks at it with his tongue. He starts slow, picks up space and then slows it down again. You arch your back and pull him into you more as you find release against his face once more. Your legs begin shaking and you’re reluctant to let go of his hair. He pulls your hand from his head and kisses the back of your hand.

He lifts his head from you and pulls his fingers out, licking them clean. A devious smile on his face as he moves up to find your lips. He captures them in a kiss and you immediately taste yourself on his lips. You didn’t know what about it had turned you on, but it made another pool between your legs. Buck pulls back with your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs on it just a bit. 

“Can you give me one more? You’re shaking and holding on pretty tight.” You nod your head and Buck bites his bottom lip before kissing you once more and heading back down. His fingers find that spot inside of you again and this time you hold nothing back. You let out every moan and whimper that graces your lips. It turns Buck on more as he finds your bud and licks at it relentlessly. From how good it felt you find yourself grinding into his face for more pressure. Buck tries to find release from his bed. He grinds his own hips into the bed as you moan from how good he’s making you feel. Your hips become sloppy and Buck knows you’re about to reach another release so he takes his free arm and wraps it around your hips. He locks you to the bed and continues his assault on your cunt. Within moments your moans become breathless gasps and Buck sits up to watch your face fully. Your eyes roll back and you cum but he doesn’t let up on his fingers and you find yourself squirting onto his chest. Buck in awe, cums in his underwear at the sight of you.

“Oh my god! I’m so sor-” you begin to panic. You had never experienced that in the many years you had been sexually active. No guy, or girl during your small phase, had ever made you feel like that. Buck immediately closes his eyes and you wish the bed would swallow you whole.

“No. No no no. Do not be sorry.” Buck gets off the bed and heads into the bathroom with a slight jog. You hear water running and then in seconds he’s back out and leaning over your trembling legs. “That was the hottest thing ever, oh my god.” His reassurance calms you almost immediately and you find it comforting that he wasn’t mad about it. He wipes at your legs and your core before making sure he’s got everything with another swipe of the towel. He immediately heads over to the dresser and digs into one of the drawers. He grabs a navy blue shirt and turns to head down the stairs. He comes back up and is holding sheets in his hand. You notice the wet spot, courtesy of you and a blush finds its way onto your cheeks. You grab the comforter and wrap yourself in it as Buck changes the sheets as fast as possible, then he turns to you with the shirt in hand and holds it out to you.

“I’m gonna go shower. Do you want to stay or do you want me to call an uber?” His voice is softer as you make your way back into the bed. He follows suit and places himself on the edge of the bed and his hand finds a place on your ankle. He’s rubbing soothing circles into it while your leg jerks ever so slightly.

“W-whatever you want…” You whisper it and Buck’s eyebrows crease. You had never been asked if you wanted to stay, let alone given something to sleep in. Buck smiles and his hand finds its way to your thigh and he pats it softly. He hands you the shirt before standing and heading towards the bathroom.

“It’s way too early to be kicking you out. I’ll drive you home tomorrow.” and with that he’s in the bathroom. You hear the shower turn on and then slight humming. You place the shirt over your head before fixing the duvet over the entire bed and lying down. Before long his pillow lulls you to sleep.

[itoshiierae]

I can't find if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do some headcanons with Kunigami (both pre- and post-wc) where his best friend (preferably male but we can have gn reader as well) loves expressing physical affection, much to the dismay of our poor bi king Kunigami? I had trouble finding your request rules too, so let me know if any parts of this request violates the rules: I'll be willing to adjust it if your requests are still open!

ᡣ𐭩 notes: AHHH i’m so sorry this took me ages 😭 it’s been in my drafts for a while now and it kept slipping my mind!! i did this with gn!reader since that’s a little easier for me to write, hope you’re okay with that! c:

ᯓ★ PRE-WC KUNIGAMI

𖦹 kunigami’s the type to freeze for half a second every time you randomly lean on him or throw an arm around his shoulders. not because he hates it, but because he’s barely holding it together around you.

𖦹 you’re constantly ruffling his hair, poking his cheek, or casually clinging onto his arm like it’s second nature and he just takes it like a stoic little golden retriever trying to stay calm.

𖦹 the other bllk guys start to notice. reo once teased him about you being “his clingy little fan” and kunigami went red sooo fast you had to physically drag him away.

𖦹 he usually tries to play it off by saying things like “…you’re so touchy” or “you act like we’re dating,” but he never pulls away. he might grumble, but he never stops your advances.

𖦹 sometimes you even catch him quietly adjusting his sleeve or fixing his hair after you’ve touched him. not to undo it, just to relive it.

ᯓ★ POST-WC KUNIGAMI

𖦹 kunigami comes back with a colder aura, rougher around the edges, and more quieter than before. but you???? you’re still the same. and a part of him hates how comforting that is.

𖦹 sooo the first time you hug him after he’s back, he stiffens. not out of discomfort, but because he didn’t realize just how much he missed being held like that.

𖦹 he’s rougher now, less outgoing or expressive, but when you tug him into a side-hug or cling onto his arm like you always used to, the tension in his shoulders eases just a little.

𖦹 “… wait you’re still doing that?” he says when you latch onto his arm during training. but he still lets you and if anyone else comments on it???? this time he doesn’t go red, he just glares at them & say, “yeah… what about it?”

𖦹 one night after training, you rest your head on his chest while watching a movie together and he doesn’t say anything… he just lets his hand settle over yours, like the old times. kunigami might be cold to everyone else now, but he’s always had a soft spot for you and no matter how much he changes, that part never does.

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[winxanity-ii]

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓: 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Sorry, not an update, but I'll try to keep this short...

I just wanted to take a second to speak directly and honestly with y'all after posting that last chapter (CHAPTER 42.5: WRATH WEARS MANY FACES). I've been seeing a few responses that, while valid in feeling, have also reminded me why I normally don't look at comments after publishing something heavy.

Let me be clear: I know this chapter was a lot. It was violent. It was cruel. It was painful. That was intentional.

This isn't fluff. This isn't comfort every chapter. This is a mythos-based story, rooted in ancient violence, power imbalance, and divine wrath.

I'm not here writing gore for fun or romanticizing harm—but I am writing a story where gods and mortals alike are capable of monstrous things, especially when they feel justified.

Chapter 42.5 was especially meant to remind you who Apollo, Hermes, and Telemachus really are—how close they sit to the divine cruelty of Olympus. I love them, yes. They're soft to MC, yes. But they are not soft to the world and those they deem unimportant/useless. That contrast is what makes their tenderness meaningful.

And I've hidden Hermes' darker side behind jokes long enough. Some of y'all forgot he's a god, and a trickster, and someone with centuries of blood under his belt. There's nothing squeaky clean about him.

If the chapter bothered you—I understand. It's not meant to sit easy. And for those of you who felt empathy for Melanion, or said this felt too much... I respect your reactions. Seriously. You're allowed to feel conflicted. That's what good storytelling should do.

But what isn't okay is the passive-aggressive commentary about my choices as a writer. I've been transparent from the beginning: this fic isn't some wholesome, "MC gets babied 24/7" kind of tale. It's a dark, myth-heavy journey with stakes and consequences. You don't get a kiss in Chapter 2 here. You had to wait because the world I'm building doesn't hand out softness that easily.

And I can't help but find it a bit hypocritical how some folks cheer for Andreia to die, but pity the man who murdered MC in cold blood. Y'all got mad at her for emotional cruelty, but want grace for someone who left them bleeding in an alley? We must not have grown up reading the same myths lol.

I'm not saying you can't critique or feel strongly. You're welcome to disagree. To feel things deeply. That's human. But don't twist the space/story I've created into something it was never meant to be. This isn't an Epic Musical fluff AU (hence the note of not needing to actually know about it). This is Olympus. This is blood-soaked marble. This is war, consequence, and love wrapped in power dynamics. I've made that plenty clear with me writing out the suitors carnage in chapter 6 instead of summarizing it.

And I say this with love but also honesty: if my content, tone, or direction rubs you the wrong way, it's okay to step away. Truly. I'll never beg anyone to read something outside their comfort zone.

Also—and this might be petty but I'm adding it here anyway—I'm even more annoyed because I had to spoil a big MC-related moment to my own sister. 😭

We promised to treat each other as authors, only editing each other's chapters once we’d both read them fully. That was the deal. But she noticed I was acting off and pushed me about it—kept asking what was wrong and finally told me to just rant before it ate me alive. So I did.

And man, I'm a damn blabbermouth because once I started venting, it all spilled out. Do you know how hard it was keeping a main plot twist from her? Only to have to reveal it because sister issues come first?? 😭💀

But yeah, back to being serious, this is my second serious fic, one where I'm trying to do something I can look back on and be like 'Xani, you ate that up fr.' And if that means I have to block people who threaten the joy or safety of my creative space?

Then so be it—rejection sensitivity or not.

That being said, I'm taking a real break from updating. I know I said I was taking a break after the last chapter, but the truth is, I was just trying to pace myself and stay ahead without losing momentum...but now I mean it—for real. I think I need an actual one to cool off and not spiral.

And yeah... maybe this rant feels a little intense or childish to some of y'all, but I needed to say it or I was just gonna end up doing something impulsive that I'd end up regretting later.

To those of you who do get it, who read carefully and trust the process—thank you. Deeply.

I'll see y'all soon 🖤

—Xani

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre woncloudie byzantiumhollow kisskisskys b4ts1e sarcasticbitchsblog trashcannotbealive idkanyonealrr

[giveafike]

kinda obsessed with the prompt of ben x fem tennis reader being together for a lil while and being the cutest couple , breaking up bc the distance hit them too hard after two straight months of different tournaments/locations, then seeing each other for the first time at a 1000 tournament, going out to dinner with the same group of people and end up going back to bens hotel room to clear the air and obvs end up in bed together realising they’re gonna have to get thru the distance cos they can’t be without each other now 😭

TLDR: tennisplayerfem!reader and ben break up bc you can't handle being away and then surprise, you can't handle being not together. Losers.

Word count + info: 10k. Am I mentally ill? This is supposed to be a blurb.. Dialogue (angst, texts, calls, conversation).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Breakup and kinda mean stuff said (nothing physical description wise). Otherwise, it's all good! (i think)

Azzie Notes ✚: SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. AM I OKAY??? 10K?? ON A BLURB?? idrk what angst is fr chat lmk if i did that one fr idk....im a LOVER girl ok IDK HOW TO DO THIS SAD SHIT - in saying that, was part of my dialogue in this lwky..loosely based off of my ex...........maybe...

I fear I loved this prompt so bad and like...I love to yap..so...

Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike) - feel free to follow and msg me about non requests there, I'll be posting life updates, story + req updates and spoilers/teasers alongside other things, so it'd be nice to have a community over there!

————————————————————————

Shattered - B.T.S.

In the beginning, being with Ben is the kind of whirlwind you've only seen in movies, a connection that feels so natural, yet thrillingly unexpected. Well, in hindsight, that might've been a lie. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but instead, a slow, magnetic pull that drew you together, like the tension building in a long rally. You met on the circuit, both hungry, ambitious, and dedicated to your own success. But from the start, Ben had this way of getting past your disciplined, guarded exterior with that relentless charm of his.

He’s everywhere, it seems—posting highlights from your matches on his stories, sneaking your name into press conferences, tagging you in his silly “lazy Saturday” shots where your game is always playing in the background. He flirts shamelessly, flashing that grin across the court, his voice lifting over the crowd to make some cheeky comment that leaves you stifling laughter. Your friends see it before you do: Ben is crazy about you, and soon, so is everyone else.

He flirted shamelessly and relentlessly, everywhere and anywhere, often catching you off guard in ways that left you flustered despite your best efforts to stay cool and professional. With that, you started to look out for the way his eyes would find yours in a crowd while you sat in the stands during his matches or how he would nudge you at practice with that easy, casual touch like he’s done it a thousand times before; like you belong by his side.

Once, when he's asked in an interview if he’d dedicated his recent win to anyone, he grins and looks straight across the room, making everyone laugh. “There’s someone special right now, but no need to say names, she knows.”

It’s sweet, funny and more than a little bold. Later, when you called him out for it over one of your first late-night calls, he shrugged, entirely unapologetic, telling you with that stupid drawl of his, “What? Ain’t no point hidin’ it. The world knows who my lucky charm is.”

Soon, it was you reaching out for him, your hand slipping onto his arm, leaning against him during walkouts, letting your barriers fall. And every time he catches your eye, every time he manages to make you smile, he looks at you like he’s won the lottery. His heart stammers a little each time you shove him playfully or roll your eyes at his antics. Whether it was on the bench or during changeovers, Ben would rest his hand gently on your lower back, a touch that makes you feel, just for a moment, like you're the only two people in the world.

When the rare break in your schedules comes around, you steal hours together. You grab a coffee, turning a "quick run" into a day spent together and wander around a city you barely know, or stumble upon a hidden café with pastries too flowery for your tastes. He made everything feel easier, like no matter how intense life gets, you’ll always have that balance with him. Around Ben, you can be softer, and more vulnerable; he brings out a side of you that isn’t just about winning and competing but about laughing, sharing, and letting go.

People noticed the way you look at each other, the easy affection that passes between you, the more daring and intimate PDA, sharing kisses and lingering stares. Soon, fans were shipping you openly, posting photos of you courtside, or whispering to each other when you lean close and murmur something that makes him laugh. On tour, you’re one of those “it” couples, a little slice of joy in the relentless pace of your careers. And in those early days, you both believe that together, you can take on anything. In those early days, you believed you could take on anything together. You and Ben were partners, equals, and even in the midst of a gruelling season, there had always been time for him, always a reason to smile. It felt perfect, like a love story you had stumbled into but were both entirely committed to.

But that honeymoon phase comes crashing down real quick.

As seasons shift and tournaments stretch across continents, the cracks start to show. At first, it’s just a few hours difference, but then come the miles and oceans, and the texts dwindled, conversations cut short, replaced by more missed calls than made and vague apologies. You both had tried, in every way you knew how. But eventually, the memories weren’t enough to bridge the distance. You’d catch yourself staying up just to wait for his call after practice, only to fall asleep disappointed, staring at a dark screen. And every time you woke up to a hastily sent sorry, something came up text, it felt like another tiny fracture.

Ben wasn’t the only one caught up in the chaos of your schedules; you had your own demands, too. The strain went both ways. In an attempt to keep things alive, you’d push yourself to keep up with his time zone, adding another city to your Clock app, setting alarms accordingly to his lunch and dinner times, staying awake far too late, eyes heavy as you sat alone in your hotel room, scrolling through old photos just to feel closer to him. When the call finally did come, your voice was barely more than a whisper, tired and distant, and Ben couldn't bear the exhaustion in your tone, his heart aching as he hushed you to sleep, meaning neither of you would stay on long.

It all piled up slowly, almost imperceptibly, until the weight felt crushing. Conversations became one-sided, it’s like chasing the sun itself, moments of silence replacing the laughter that had once felt endless, and that spark, the one that made you feel unstoppable together, felt further away with every day that passed.

Then came the day of your match, a game that should have been easy, one you’d normally have breezed through. But you were dragging, exhaustion wrapping itself around your every heavy, drooping step, and somewhere in the depths of your mind, a bitter thought took root:

If only he cared.

You knew it wasn’t his fault, but still, the frustration boiled over. Would things have felt different if you weren’t so alone in this? If you didn’t have to wonder when, or if, he’d remember to call? If he scheduled calls to your time for once? If he could just postpone everything for 20, 20 measly minutes for you?

A ball zips right by you, snapping you back to reality.

Lying in your hotel room that night, you stared at the ceiling, replaying the best moments of your time together like an old movie reel. In those moments, it had felt perfect. You’d believed you could take on the world, side by side, partners in everything. But now, with miles and silence separating you, you wondered if those memories were all that was left of what you once had.

But even with that ache, even with the emptiness filling the room, one thing is clear as day: loving Ben, for all its messiness, for all the distance and loneliness, had never felt like a mistake but God, was it hard. You pondered on those same irritating thoughts that itched at you until your fingers found your phone and hit the FaceTime Call button. Part of you wanted him to not pick up, knowing that you had nothing kind or sweet to say, but a small part of you wanted to dish back what he deserved.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice tense, worn. His drawl feels distant like he’s talking to you from across an ocean.

“Hey.” You can feel the iciness in your voice, colder than you intended.

“Long day?” he asks, though his expression is already tense, wary.

“Yeah. Almost lost today,” you say flatly.

Ben’s gaze flicks down. “I saw the score,” he says, his voice cautious. “Guess it was a tough match, babe.”

“It shouldn’t have been,” you snap. “But maybe it’s hard to focus when I’m barely sleeping… or constantly waiting for a text that never comes.”

He blinks, his eyes narrowing. “So this is on me?” The familiar accent is a little rougher around the edges. “You’re losin’ matches ‘cause I’m not callin’ you enough? That’s what you’re sayin’?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ben. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about” You feel the bitterness twisting in your chest. ““You’re barely here, Ben. Half the time, I don’t even know if we’re still together or if we’re just two people sending pointless messages every few hours. Half the time, it feels like I’m talking to a ghost.”

He lets out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “You think it’s any easier for me? I’ve got my own stuff, my own schedule, darlin'. I’ve got my career to think about too, you know, this ain't just about you.”

Your jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, at least when I'm on the court, I don’t exactly have the luxury of tuning you out, Ben. I’m not the one who forgets to call after saying I would. I don’t have time for half-assed texts and waiting around for you to call when you feel like it.”

“Oh, don’t go there,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “You know what it’s like. The fans, the interviews, the time spent on court-”

“Yeah, I get it, Ben. But last week, you bailed on a call to go sign autographs. Priorities, right?”

He takes a deep breath, visibly holding back. “C’mon, babe, you don’t mean that.”

But you press on, unable to stop yourself. “You’re too busy with whatever ‘big thing’ you have going on, right? Maybe if you cared enough to focus on your game instead of your ‘commitments,’ you wouldn’t have dropped that finals match. Just maybe.”

He flinches, his expression turning dark. “Oh, that's low from you, Y/N. You really wanna go there?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say, your voice unwavering.

He pauses, his face hardening. “If you were out here on the ATP tour, you’d understand how rough it really is. You wouldn't even get past a challenger. It ain’t the same league as the WTA.”

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “Oh, don’t even start with that. Rougher than the WTA? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Maybe come and join WTA then, you wouldn't manage it out here either, Ben.”

He snaps, his voice cutting like a whip. “You know how much I’m fightin’ to make a name for myself out here. Just ‘cause you got a few more shiny titles doesn’t mean you get to talk down to me like this.”

The sting of his words hits like a slap. Your face flushes, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling up. “So, that’s it? Just because I’ve actually earned my success, I’m some kind of… what? Nag?”

“I didn’t say that,” he shot back, voice tight, his eyes narrowing as he looked away. “But maybe you’re doin’ too much. Bein’ all… dramatic, blamin’ me for stuff I got no control over.”

“Right, okay, so I’m being dramatic,” you scoff, your voice edged with sarcasm. “I’m the one asking for too much because I want something real, something you clearly can’t give.”

He laughs, bitter and raw. “Maybe you just want too damn much.”

You feel the tears prickling behind your eyes, but you clench your jaw, holding yourself together by sheer force of will. Your voice trembles as you speak, the words thick with a pain you can’t contain. “I just want you to care, Ben, or at least pretend to care and make it believable. I want you to care enough to be here when it matters. But you’re so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t even see it.”

His face hardens, his jaw set, but his eyes hold a flicker of something unspoken. “You think I don’t care? I’m out here pushin’ myself every day, for us, for this future we’re supposed to be building 'n shit. But it’s like no matter what I do, it ain’t enough for you.”

A sharp knock sounds from his end, followed by muffled voices. He glances away, then back at you, irritation flaring in his eyes. “Look, I gotta go. Dad’s waitin’ on me; he already gave me an extra ten minutes to talk.”

You feel your heart twist, an ache of disappointment settling in. “Oh, of course,” you mutter, your voice dripping with bitterness. “Go ahead. I’m sure your training’s way more important than anything I have to say.”

He turns back, his eyes blazing with frustration. “Maybe it is right now,” he spits. “Talkin’ to you like this, all it’s doin’ is makin’ things worse. We're not getting anywhere like this-”

The words cut deeper than you expect, and you can barely hold back the surge of anger and heartbreak choking you. “Fine. Go, then. At least one of us can prioritise something.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks away. “You’re bein’ unfair, 'n you know it.”

“Am I?” you whisper, your voice tight and choked. “Or am I just done waiting for you to show up?”

You stare at each other, an endless silence stretching between you, sharp and seething, words too heavy to be unsaid. Then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he mutters, “I can’t do this right now. I’ll talk to you later. When you’re not actin’ like this.”

Before you could respond, he hung up, his face disappearing from your screen, leaving you alone with nothing but the cold light of your phone. Your hands shook as you stared at the blank screen, tears finally spilling over.

With trembling fingers, you took a breath, letting a cold, steely calm settle over you. You typed out a simple, blunt message, leaving no room for second-guessing, no room for soft words or explanations. Just the truth, as raw as you felt.

“We’re done. I can’t do this anymore, Ben. I’m sorry.”

Your thumb lingered for a second before hitting “send,” and as soon as the message went through, you blocked him on every platform, cutting off any way for him to respond, to apologise, to convince you otherwise.

But as you tossed your phone aside, a crack appeared in the calm you’d forced on yourself. The tears came suddenly, your breath hitching as a tidal wave of heartbreak surged through you. You buried your face in your hands, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could somehow contain the emotions clawing their way to the surface. You tried to stay quiet, muffling the sound in the dark, but the weight was too much, every sob raw, grieving and heavy, pouring out the frustration, the loneliness, and the love you’d tried so hard to salvage.

By the time your tears subsided, you felt utterly drained, hollowed out in a way that made everything around you feel distant and surreal. The city lights flickered outside your window, the glow indifferent to the storm that had torn through you. And in that quiet, broken moment, with only the shadows as company, you lay there, letting the exhaustion seep through your bones until sleep claimed you.

When sleep finally came, it was restless, fractured. You tossed and turned, flashes of memories from better days with Ben haunting you, the sound of his laugh, the way he’d smile, gummy and wide, his nose scrunching with that easy confidence. You woke up more exhausted than when you’d closed your eyes, feeling like you hadn’t rested at all. But you forced yourself out of bed, pushing yourself through your pre-game routine, your emotions locked away, frozen under layers of determination.

As you walked onto the court, the crowd buzzed with excitement, but you barely registered it. You were a storm, calm on the surface but seething underneath. Every shot you took was hard and brutal, the ball slicing through the air with an intensity that made your opponent flinch, the impact echoing through the stadium. You played as if your life depended on it, your body moving with sharp, lethal precision.

Your serves were relentless, your groundstrokes vicious, each one faster, sharper, as if each shot were a way to expel the anger and hurt still simmering in your chest. The crowd murmured, noticing the shift in your energy, the way you were pushing yourself, almost recklessly. A couple of times, your shots zipped past your opponent’s hand, barely missing, almost daring her to try and reach for it - "try me". You were untouchable, unstoppable, playing like you had something to prove.

But there was no smile, no hint of joy in your movements, solely mechanical. The usual lightness in your footwork was gone, replaced by a cold, ruthless efficiency. You’d already decided: this match was yours. You weren’t here to give an inch, weren’t here to let any lingering emotions cloud your focus. The crowd might have wanted excitement, but you were giving them precision, a display of control and fury that left no room for doubt.

You won, of course. Your opponent barely had a chance. But as you walked off the court, sweat trickling down your brow, fists clenched, you felt no thrill in the victory. Just the dull ache that lingered, a hollow space where your lightness, your smile, used to be. The heat of the court only made your head throb. The applause faded into background noise as you strode away, head high, shoulders tense. You’d won, but it felt like a hollow victory. You had no one to text after your game, anyone to call you baby - you had done it to yourself, were you really that desperate for a man to validate you? You were sick of feeling this way, sick of the exhaustion, the anger, the loneliness that clung to you even after everything you’d given today. At least, for now, you’d proven something, to yourself, to him, even if he’d never know, or care.

In the month that followed, you threw yourself harshly into your schedule, determined to erase any trace of him from your routine, your heart. Matches, training, travel, interviews, photoshoots, more matches, each day bled into the next, filled with an almost mechanical sense of purpose. If you weren’t on the court, you were working out, perfecting your strokes, spending hours on serves and footwork. Anything to exhaust yourself to stop the thoughts from lingering too long. Your routine was relentless, your focus razor-sharp.

But even in this frenzy, despite it all, reminders of him still slipped through. You’d scroll through social media, and every so often, an ATP post would pop up: Ben at a tournament, Ben celebrating a point, Ben grinning with that easy charm that used to make your heart ache. He looked different now. His curls were longer, spilling out from over his sweaty headband, and his frame had hardened, leaner, with muscle that seemed to outline his strength in sharper lines. His chubby cheeks had slimmed down into something harder, replaced by the quiet confidence of someone who’d grown, adapted, maybe even suffered a little.

And you could almost feel it, the quaking, gaping pain of missing him, but you’d swallow it back down, pull yourself together, and look away.

Your own press conferences became something else entirely. You were more composed, a bit sharper with your words, confident in a way you hadn’t been before. Where you used to smile shyly or laugh softly, now you leaned in with humour, a hint of flirtation, your charm more self-assured. You handled reporters’ questions deftly, especially the ones that tried to pry about Ben. The same questions came up over and over:

“So, do you still keep in touch with Ben?”

Each time, you’d respond with a practised, cool smile. “Right now, I’ve got all the support I need from my team and the people I have with me.” You’d turn the conversation to your work, your skill, and your grind on the court, dismissing the topic with subtle elegance, always steering it back to your goals, your game, and your people.

Yet, away from the cameras, the facade cracked, if only slightly. Sometimes, after a long match or a particularly brutal day of training, you’d find yourself scrolling through your old photos or feeling tears prickling your eyes, this messy situation taking a bigger toll than you would like to admit.

In his hotel room, Ben watched your interviews alone, a faint crease between his brows. There you were, in all your brilliance, flashing a confident smile at the camera, handling the press with a wit and boldness that felt both familiar and strange. He could see the way you’d grown, the way you’d steeled yourself, and it stirred something in him, a pang he couldn’t ignore. It was like watching someone he knew intimately and yet… not at all. The way you answered questions about him, and your subtle redirection to your career and team, it stung. Maybe it was petty, but he missed the way you used to talk about him with such pride, with that lovestruck glow. He loved seeing how shy you would get at the sheer mention of his name. Your hair was different, your skin glowing, you had more confidence, even if it came off a bit cocky but he still felt like you were his, just as much as he was yours. Ben didn’t know how to reach out, didn’t know what he’d even say. There was a distance now, both physical and emotional, that seemed impossible to bridge. He’d scroll through his own phone sometimes, finding old messages, ones before distance got the better of you both, photos of the two of you, half-written scripts in his Notes app he couldn’t bring himself to deliver. If he flew out tonight to you, what would he even do after? He’d think of calling you, of reaching out somehow, but the memory of your last fight, the bitterness in your voice, the way you’d shut him out… it held him back.

One evening, as you sat alone in the players' lounge, your forehead pressed against the back of the sofa, you felt that familiar ache pulse through you, the one that came every time you thought of him. It was then that Coco came by, her familiar, steady presence filling the room as she settled down across from you, cross-legged on the seat in front of you. Over the past year, it was Ben that introduced you but, you and Coco had grown even closer, bound not just by shared victories and losses but by the pressures only someone like her could truly understand.

Coco tilted her head, her gaze warm but unwavering. “Alright,” she said, cutting through the silence. “What’s really going on? Are you… over him?”

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I wish I could say yes,” you murmured. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to move on, focus on the game, on everything else, but… he’s still everywhere. Even when I’m doing well, even when I’m focused, it’s like… something’s missing.” Your voice dropped to barely a whisper. “It’s like I can’t fully shake him.”

Coco nodded, her expression both sympathetic and knowing. “I get it. You two had something real, something intense. But maybe this time apart is what you both need. I mean, look at you. You’re stronger now, on and off the court. Maybe that’s part of this whole journey, you know?”

You managed a faint smile, though your heart still felt heavy. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It just… doesn’t always feel like enough.”

She reached out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me. If he’s the right guy, he’ll figure it out, too. Until then? Focus on your game. Focus on you.”

Her words stayed with you, offering a small but steady comfort in the days that followed. You have been throwing yourself into training, pouring everything into the sport, trying to find solace in each match and each moment of growth. Somewhere out there, he was doing the same, and maybe, just maybe, this was what was best.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t completely smother the small spark of hope, that someday, somehow, your paths might cross again.

It was similar in the men’s locker room, Ben slumped forward on the bench, his elbows propped on his knees as he stared blankly at the floor, holding an uncapped bottle of water. Frances Tiafoe, who’d been eyeing him from across the room, exchanged a knowing glance with Taylor Fritz before making his way over.

“Alright, bro, spill it,” Frances said, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he leaned in. “You’ve been lookin’ like you’re living in some sad dog for weeks.”

Ben gave him a sidelong glance. “There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

Taylor rolled his eyes as he joined them, settling down on the other side of Ben. “Come on, man. We’re not blind. Ever since she blocked you, you’ve been… different.”

Ben scoffed, looking away, his voice low. “She didn’t just block me, man. She… she threw down, real hard. Said some things I thought she’d never say.”

Frances let out a low whistle. “Was that rough, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, rubbing a hand over his face, his frustration mingling with regret. “It all just blew up. We were on a call, talkin’ like usual, and suddenly… it was like everything we hadn’t said just came out. She starts throwin’ things at me about how I’m not there, like… like I don’t care enough or not workin' hard enough. And it pissed me off, you know? I work just as hard, and it’s not like I’m sittin’ around, right?”

Taylor nodded, leaning back against the lockers. “So, what’d you do?”

Ben shrugged, his expression pained. “I pushed back, told her she couldn’t keep actin’ like she’s the only one workin’ for this. Told her ATP is just as tough, maybe even more competitive. Didn’t mean it that way, but she took it wrong. She thought I was tryin’ to downplay her game.”

Frances shook his head, giving Ben a sympathetic look. “Man, she must’ve felt hurt.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered, a bitter laugh escaping him. “And next thing I know, I get this text. ‘This isn’t workin', we’re done.’ Blocked me on everything. Cold as ice, man. It’s like she flipped a switch, just… shut me out completely, as easy as shuttin' a door.”

Frances gave him a gentle nudge. “You still care about her?”

Ben’s gaze softened, a faint smile breaking through his frustration. “Yeah, man. She’s… she’s my girl. Even if she’s not my girl right now, you know?”

Taylor chuckled, nodding. “So, what’re you gonna do about it? Sit around here moping, or actually make a move?”

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What am I supposed to do? She’s made it pretty clear she’s done with me.”

Frances grinned, crossing his arms. “Bro, just ‘cause she blocked you and sent a text after you called her game easy, doesn’t mean it’s over. She’s mad, yeah, but she’s probably missin’ you just as much. You just gotta show her you’re willin’ to do what it takes.”

Taylor nodded in agreement, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture, man. Sometimes, it’s the small things. Something to let her know you’re still thinkin’ of her, still care. You know where we're at next, right?”

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “And do what? Just show up at her hotel room? She’s liable to call cops on my ass for that shit, bro.”

Frances laughed, shrugging. “So what? At least she’ll know you tried! Don't go doin' that though. Look, I’ve been with my girl for years now, and sometimes, you gotta be willing to look like a fool to show her you care.”

Ben leaned back, their words sinking in. He could still feel the sting of the things she’d said, the accusations she’d thrown at him like he didn’t care, didn’t work just as hard. But he couldn’t deny that he’d made mistakes, too. He’d let his pride get in the way, said things he regretted, and let the frustration of it all get the better of him.

Frances nudged him again, his grin widening. “Think about it, man. You got two choices: sit here, feeling sorry for yourself until she finds some other guy, or actually do something about it and get her back, even if that means standing in the rain with a fuckin' speaker.”

Ben finally cracked a smile, looking between his friends. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

“Hey, maybe,” Taylor said with a shrug. “But at least we got girlfriends. And you? You got a chance to get yours back. Just gotta decide if she’s worth it.”

Ben sat there, mulling over their words as a new determination started to burn within him. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, and maybe there was a lot he’d have to figure out. But if there was even a chance to fix things, to bridge that gap that felt so wide, he wasn’t about to let his pride hold him back.

As he left the locker room that night, he felt a resolve solidify within him. He’d find a way to reach out, to let her know that no matter how far apart they were, she was still the one he wanted. Because when it came down to it, she was worth every bit of the fight.

A week went by before a 1000 game flew in, and both ATP and WTA were present if not, nearby for the games. You couldn't care less what was at stake, anything was a win if it kept you occupied. The courts were almost empty, shadows lengthening as the sun beamed high above. You bounced the ball steadily, the rhythm calm, your focus laser-sharp. The only sounds were the muted thud of your shoes on the court, and your breath falling into sync with the beat of your earbuds. Nothing but you, the court, and the quiet.

But then, that voice broke through.

"Aw, c'mon, man!" A laugh, deep and full of that unmistakable Southern drawl. Your grip faltered, the ball hovering mid-toss. That laugh, it was a sound you hadn’t let yourself think about for months, one that held too much of him.

Ben.

Your pulse jolted, the memories flooding back, warmth and bitterness tangled in the knots of your chest. You gritted your teeth, tossing the ball high before slamming it against the court, the crack of impact sharp in the quiet. It almost felt satisfying, like you could obliterate the tension he brought, shatter it with sheer force.

Almost.

You readied another serve, the ball bouncing harder than necessary as you forced yourself not to look. But you could feel his gaze, that familiar weight of his eyes lingering on you. The pull was magnetic, almost maddening, and despite every ounce of resolve you’d built up, your gaze betrayed you, slipping over to catch a glimpse of him.

Ben, laughing with Taylor, curls tousled longer than before, his hoodie slung carelessly over those familiar, ridiculous short shorts. The same hoodie you'd worn too many times to count, drowning in its warmth during late-night snack runs and lazy Sundays. The sight tugged painfully, a cruel reminder of the little things you’d pushed down, tried to forget.

He caught you looking, and his laughter faded, his gaze holding yours for just a second too long. You gripped the ball tighter, the ache settling heavy, and forced yourself to turn away, channelling the flurry of memories into another sharp serve, a fierce crack reverberating across the court. You didn’t look back again.

Hours later, your body was tired, your mind a bit clearer. You were scrolling through your phone in the lounge, zoning out, when Coco dropped down beside you with that familiar, mischievous grin.

"Hey, you!" She nudged you, hands on her hips.

You eyed her warily. "What’s up, Coco? Awfully perky for...5:30p.m."

“We’re having dinner tonight. Big group. Wanna come?” Her tone was casual, a little too casual.

Your guard went up immediately as you dropped your phone to your lap. “Who’s ‘we all’?”

Coco shrugged, twirling a loose curl around her finger. “Me, Frances, Arthur… maybe another WTA girl or two. Just a fun little dinner. Nothing formal.”

You narrowed your eyes, reading the glint of mischief in hers. "Coco, don’t mess with me. He's not gonna be there, right?"

She tilted her head, pretending to look innocent, but the sly smile gave her away. "Well… he might show up, but that's on his own accord. I didn't mention anything to Ben and it’s not like anyone’s setting anything up! It’s just dinner."

Your stomach twisted, a sigh slipping from your lips as you looked away. “I don’t think so. Not after… everything.” Your voice softened the weight of old arguments and unsaid things hanging between the words.

Coco’s face softened, her hand finding your shoulder. “Look, I’m not saying you have to sit next to him or anything. It’s a big table. You can stay on the opposite end and ignore him if that’s what you need. But everyone misses you, it’s been ages since we all got together. We all need to see your pretty face off the court too, ya know?”

You hesitated, rolling your eyes, the ache of missing them settling somewhere deep, the sense of family you hadn’t felt in months tugging at you. After a long pause, you finally nodded, rolling your shoulders back as if bracing for a match. “Fine. But I’m serious, Coco, no funny business. If he starts anything, I’m out.”

Coco grinned, throwing her arm around you. “Girl, trust me. If anything, you’ll be giving him the funny looks. Just friends, no drama. Now, let’s go get you out of those sweats.”

Meanwhile, in the locker room across the court, Ben was doing his best to act indifferent as Frances nudged him for the third time.

"C'mon, man!" Frances said, leaning against the lockers with a knowing grin. "So you are coming to this dinner tonight, right? Don't make me beg again, I'll start singing.”

Ben tried to play it cool, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I don’t know, man. You really think it’s a good idea?”

Frances rolled his eyes. “Look, you’ve been moping for months. She’s not gonna make a scene in public, and especially not with all of us, and who knows? Maybe she’ll talk to you, be all civil. It’s worth a shot.”

Ben let out a huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “Civil? You remember the last time we spoke, right? She has me blocked on everything.”

Taylor, stretching nearby, smirked and chimed in. “Man, you got nothin’ to lose. At the very least, you’ll see her. I saw how you were after you caught a glimpse of her training earlier. Besides, Frances and Coco will keep her from killin’ you.”

“Kay, thanks,” Ben muttered, though a flicker of hope sparked under the sarcasm. He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t shake the longing to see her again, to maybe fix even a sliver of what had been broken.

Taylor nudged him, grinning. “Hey, listen, if I wasn’t taking Morgan out tonight, I’d be there just for moral support. But hey, maybe next time it’ll be a double date. Me, you, Morgan and your soon-to-be girlfriend, just like old times.”

Ben shook his head, the thought both terrifying and oddly thrilling. “You’re jokin’, right? She’d probably throw her drink at me before she’d sit through a double date.”

“Only if you act like an idiot,” Frances pointed out, laughing. “Just be yourself, man. You can handle the heat on the court, you can handle this. And maybe tonight’ll be the thing that finally breaks the ice.”

Ben sighed, running a hand over his face before finally surrendering. “Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll go. But Frances, don’t expect me to be all… chatty.”

Frances clapped him on the back, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Yeah, you say that now. But I know how you get around her, man. Just don’t chicken out. Remember, we got your back.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile nervously, feeling a strange mix of dread and anticipation tighten in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this dinner would be a chance at redemption or just a painful reminder of how far they’d drifted, but one thing was clear, he was tired of hiding from whatever was left between them.

You walk into the restaurant and let Coco lead you to a long table, feeling an odd mix of nerves and determination fluttering in your stomach. Your outfit is cute but simple, just a sweater and leggings; just enough effort to feel put together without trying too hard. You take a seat between Coco and Arthur Fils, with Frances across from you. There’s an empty chair across from Arthur, and for some reason, that empty space makes your heart beat a little faster, feeling torn between wanting and avoiding Ben there.

As everyone settles in, you catch Coco’s eye and mutter, “Please tell me he’s not actually coming.” She just shrugs with an easy smile.

Moments later, as the group banters along, about to order drinks, Ben strolls in, catching you entirely off-guard. He’s slightly out of breath, apologising to the group with that familiar grin, explaining he’s late because he’d just finished showering after practice. You can’t help it, you nudge Coco under the table, whispering through gritted teeth, a frustrated, “Great.”

Coco just gives him a casual greeting, and you force yourself to turn back to the table, focusing your attention on ordering a glass of wine, pretending not to notice him as he takes that empty seat across from Arthur, just barely within your view, diagonally. But as he sits down, you feel his eyes on you, and for a brief moment, you glance up and catch him staring, his face almost dazed.

You’re caught off-guard by the look in his eyes. His breath seems to hitch, his big brown eyes wide and you can see a faint blush creeping up his neck as he stares at you, almost like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. There’s a softness in his expression that you weren’t prepared for, a kind of awe that makes your stomach twist with memories and longing. But just as quickly, you look away, turning your attention to your wine as Frances elbows Ben with a teasing hiss, “Be normal, man.”

Throughout the night, you manage to keep to yourself, mostly talking to the other WTA players or Arthur whenever he cracks a joke. You keep Ben at the edge of your vision, resolute in ignoring the way his gaze keeps drifting back to you.

Every once in a while, Ben attempts to draw you into the conversation, maybe a lighthearted comment or a direct question, but each time, you meet his gaze with a steely look, making it clear with just one glance that you’re not interested. When he tries again, you let your eyes meet his for a moment, long enough to show him you’re serious before turning away, cutting off his effort entirely, almost to say "not interested". Across the table, Frances raises his brows, murmuring with a barely hidden smirk, “Damn, she is good at this,” as Ben slouches slightly, clearly trying not to look embarrassed.

As dinner winds down, the plates are cleared away, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment alone. Inside, you take a deep breath, facing yourself in the mirror. You’d been bracing yourself for tonight, but nothing quite prepared you for how it would feel to see him sitting right there, looking at you with those big sweet brown eyes and a pout, filled with that same soft pleading that used to make you melt.

But tonight, all it did was remind you of those late nights waiting by your phone, checking it over and over for messages that came slower and slower until they just…stopped. It reminds you of the countless hours wondering if you mattered as much as you thought you did, replaying his empty promises and half-hearted reassurances that seemed to fade with each passing day. He couldn't expect you to take him back with a pout and some half-assed joke. But damn, was it a good attempt, he knew how to make you crumble, even if it wasn't his sole intention.

You force yourself to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you look in the bathroom mirror examining yourself with a sigh, applying a bit of lip balm with fingers that tremble just slightly. Anything to distract yourself, to remind yourself that you’re strong enough to face this without breaking, reminding yourself to keep that mask on. You straighten your posture, determined to push all those memories back down where they belong, buried.

But just as you step out of the bathroom, Ben is standing right there, leaning against the wall as if he’d been waiting for you. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours, and he opens his mouth, his voice just a whisper. “Can we…talk? Just the two of us?”

The look he gives you, hopeful, no, desperate, stirs something deep inside you, and you clench your jaw, wanting to say no, wanting to walk away without a second thought. But as much as you’d like to ignore it, part of you still aches for some kind of closure, maybe even just one honest conversation.

With a reluctant sigh, you nod. “Fine. Outside.”

As you head out the restaurant’s door, you quickly fire off a text to Coco:

me n Ben talking outside. brb.

You stuff your phone back into your bag, clutching it tightly to your shoulder as you step into the cool night air. Wrapping your arms under your chest, you try to keep yourself shielded from more than just the chilling breeze.

Ben falls into step beside you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. There’s a moment of silence as you both find your footing, the quiet thick with everything that’s been left unsaid. You glance sideways, catching him opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, only to close it, his shoulders shifting awkwardly.

“So… how’s the tournament going for you?” he starts, his tone casual, a little too casual.

You blink, trying not to roll your eyes, feeling the irritation growing. Really? But you bite back and just sternly say, “Ben.”

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing up at the streetlights overhead. “Sorry, yeah, that was- uh, okay.” He lets out a breath and shuffles closer, his voice almost a murmur. “I just… I wanna make this right. Another chance- Just thought maybe… you know, talkin’ would be easier if…”

“Ben, stop.” You sigh, tightening your grip on your bag strap. “Stop being weird. Just… just say what you have to say, and let’s get this over with. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, I've got shit to do tomorrow.”

He glances at you, brows knitting together. For a second, he looks almost frustrated, like he’s holding back something sharper, something rougher. But he lets it pass, letting out a long, resigned breath. “Fine. I’ll just ask one thing.”

You arch an eyebrow, scepticism thick in your voice. “One question. Shoot.”

His voice comes out softer, edged with a hesitant curiosity as if he knows it’s a stupid question but can’t help but ask. “What hotel you stayin’ at?”

You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “The Merrion.”

His eyes widen slightly, a small, stupid smile breaking on his face. “No way… me too.”

You sigh, looking up at the night sky, feeling the inevitability of whatever this night is becoming. Of course, he’s at the same hotel. Only Ben could make the universe align like this. And only Ben would think of a stupid question like that. He shifts his weight, stepping closer, his gaze steady.

“Look,” he starts, “it’s just a short walk back, twenty minutes or so. Just… give me that time. Just enough to walk back. Let me talk. And then you can go to your room and go to bed. How 'bout it?”

There’s a hopeful edge in his voice that you can’t ignore, and for a moment, your resolve falters. It’s ridiculous, this is exactly the sort of thing he would come up with, some half-baked plan to get you to keep listening, to keep him around just a little longer. You want to roll your eyes, to brush him off, but something about the way he’s looking at you, those earnest, brown eyes so damn full of longing, makes you sigh.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But if you get weird again, I’m out. No small talk, you know how much I hate it.”

A small grin creeps onto his face, and he falls into step beside you, a little closer than necessary, his arm brushing against yours as you start down the quiet street. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, just walks alongside you, letting the silence settle around you both. But then, in that familiar southern drawl, his voice comes softer.

“Y’know, I've been thinkin’ ‘bout us a lot… probably more than I should.”

You keep your eyes on the sidewalk ahead, willing yourself to stay unmoved. “And?”

He swallows, his gaze tracing your profile, softening with each word. “I messed up,” he admits. “I know I did. I shoulda… been there more, answered more, I dunno. Shoulda been better at handlin’ it.”

You nod slightly, keeping your face blank. “Mhm, you should've.”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his expression, but he doesn’t let it throw him off. “You think I didn’t feel it too? That whole time, it felt like- hell, like I was losin’ you, like somethin’ was slippin’ right outta my hands, and I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop it.”

You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen just a fraction, though you keep your arms folded as a kind of armour. His words settle into the silence, raw and rough, and you can feel him glancing over, waiting for some kind of response. But you keep your gaze forward, biting back the little stirrings of emotion that are beginning to creep in.

He keeps talking, voice low and steady, drawing you in without giving you a chance to look away. “I’m not tryin’ to make excuses, alright? I know I coulda tried harder. But it’s like… the more I tried, the harder it got. The distance, the time zones, the schedules… it all just made me feel like I couldn’t keep up. And I just didn't know how to juggle it and that's my fault.”

You shake your head slightly, finally glancing over at him, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of your mouth. “So this is your way of apologising?”

He laughs, a little sheepish. “Guess I’m not real good at it, huh?” He nudges you with his shoulder, a familiar, easy gesture that makes your arms slowly loosen. His hand brushes your arm, just for a second, and a warmth blooms where his fingers graze your skin as if your body’s memory of him can’t help but respond.

“Look,” he says, his voice dipping softer, “I just… I miss you so much. Like hell.”

The honesty in his tone hits you hard, unravelling the cold exterior you’ve worked so hard to keep up. He keeps his eyes on you, watching your face carefully as if gauging your reaction. You feel your resolve slipping even more, your arms slowly falling to your sides, your heart aching as you fight against the wave of warmth that’s threatening to break through.

“Ben…” you start, barely a whisper, but you don’t know what to say, feeling torn.

He moves a little closer, his eyes wide, pleading, like he’s trying to hold onto every inch of you he can. “I know I messed up, okay? But I don’t wanna lose you. Not for good. Please, Y/N. Give me one more chance, you won't regret it 'n if I fuck up bad, you can do whatever, however; I deserve it but please. Just one more chance.”

You press your lips tight together, feeling your heart tighten as his words sink in, as he stands there looking at you with that same vulnerability you’d once fallen in love with. For a second, you forget the hurt, the sleepless nights, and you’re left with just him, the version of him that’s open, sincere, the Ben you’d once held so close.

The walk to the hotel stretches out as he keeps talking, spilling out and laying his heart bare with that easy, boyish charm that only he can pull off, and little by little, you feel your icy exterior start to melt. He talks about his time away from you, how he admired you from videos, watched highlight reels, his endless hours at night going through photos and texts; the whole lot. He cracks a joke, and despite yourself, you smile, trying to hide it but failing. He nudges you again, grinning as he sees the hint of laughter breaking through your guard.

He apologises over and over, more earnestly each time, his voice steady and low, and you can hear the regret, the guilt, the need to make things right. By the time you reach the hotel entrance, you’re feeling something dangerously close to hope, your heart betraying you, making it harder and harder to keep up the facade.

You glance over at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he looks at you as if you’re the only thing he can see. He’s staring, the blush from earlier creeping back up his neck, and when his hand brushes yours one last time, you don’t pull away.

You stand just outside the hotel, a faint chill brushing past as the streetlights cast a warm glow around you. You shift on your feet, glancing up at him, your eyes soft but determined.

“Can I talk?” you ask, breaking the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. The first thing you had actually said this entire time.

Ben raises an eyebrow, leaning in with a playful smirk. “Talk? What else have we been doin’ for the last twenty minutes, girl?”

You roll your eyes and reach out to smack his arm, earning a chuckle from him. “Fine then. Can we go up to your room?” you add, a small, daring smile tugging at your lips.

Ben’s eyebrow quirks higher. “My room, huh?” His gaze narrows, teasing you with that familiar glint. “What exactly ya got planned, sweetheart?”

You swat him again, harder this time, and he laughs, raising his hands in mock defence. But then you drop the smile, your voice softer. “I wanna talk about what I did, Ben. I messed up too.”

The teasing fades from his expression as he studies your face, searching. After a pause, he nods and gestures toward the lobby. “Alright, then. Let’s go talk.”

In the elevator, silence hangs thick in the air, tension as familiar as it is unspoken. You don't even notice, spending your time stilling your breath and running through everything you want to apologise for. When you reach his room, you head over to the small couch by the window and settle in, tucking your legs under you and giving him a steady look.

“Ya gettin’ comfortable already?” he jokes, leaning against the wall, his eyes dancing with that old spark that makes you ache.

You try not to smile, steeling yourself for your confessional. “Can you be serious for a minute?”

His smile fades as he walks over, sitting across from you, his gaze intense and focused. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you’ve held back.

“I shouldn’t have put so many expectations on you,” you begin, your voice wavering. “You’ve got your own life, your own competitions, your own dreams. All this constant travelling, the different time zones… it’s not fair to expect you to be there every time I needed you at the drop of a hat. You get burnt out too- God. I never even asked how you were before I'd launch into my own day.”

You bite your lip, blinking back tears as they start to blur your vision. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been more understanding, given you more grace.” Your voice catches, barely a whisper now. “And what I said… on that call… it was cruel, Ben. I was mean and unfair, and you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it. At all. I wouldn't want myself back after all I had said and done.”

As a tear slips down your cheek, Ben’s face softens, and he reaches out without hesitation, his hands cupping your face as he brushes the tear away. His thumb lingers on your skin, his gaze is unwavering, and then he leans forward, pressing the gentlest kiss to your temple, another to your forehead, and a final one at the crown of your head, his hand resting tenderly against your hair.

You let out a shuddered breath, your hands covering his as you finally let everything pour out. “I miss you so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I miss everything about you… the way you laugh, your ridiculous voice…” Another tear rolls down, and you don’t try to hold back. “I miss the way you’d talk about cars or food for ages, and you’d make everything feel so normal, even when my life was a mess. Without you, it’s like this haze I can’t shake. I just… I miss you. I barely recognise myself these days.”

Your body shakes with the sobs you’ve tried so hard to bury, and Ben doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he could shield you from all the pain, all the regret. He holds you there, one hand smoothing over your hair, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses to your forehead and cheeks, murmuring gentle words against your skin.

“S’all right, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

You cling to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, as his hands trace soothing circles along your back. Your sobs gradually quiet, but your breaths are still shaky, each exhale unsteady.

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” you manage, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Hey now,” he murmurs, his tone warm and grounding. “We both made mistakes. Ain’t just on you, alright? Takes two to mess up, but it takes two to fix it too. We can fix, can't we?”

You nod, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling a little of the weight lift, softened by his words.

Ben tilts your head to hold your gaze, his own eyes glassy. “Can’t tell ya how many times I thought about callin’ ya or flying to ya,” he admits, his voice low. “How many times I’d pull up your name, wonderin’ what you’d say if I told ya all the things I wished I’d said. But I was… hell, I was scared, darlin’. Thought maybe I’d screwed up too bad, and you’d moved on.”

You shake your head, a small, breathy laugh escaping. “I couldn’t...I could never.”

He strokes your hair gently, his lips brushing your forehead once more. “Guess we’re both a couple of fools then, huh?”

You laugh softly, the sound wet and trembling as he pulls you back into his arms. You lean into him, letting yourself feel the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart, grounding you. Wrapped in the quiet, tangled together, you both hold on a little tighter, feeling the rawness of your honesty and the comfort of finally, finally being close again. In the safety of his arms, you feel, for the first time in so long, a sense of peace, letting the unspoken words settle around you like a quiet promise.

Ben’s hand rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles as he learns your face all over again, making your heart flutter. His fingers move slowly, grazing down to your jaw, then up again, threading into your hair. You let your eyes close for a moment, his gentle touch working its way through the tension of the night, and a small, contented sigh escapes you. For the first time in weeks, you feel relaxed and content.

“Gettin’ comfortable, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He leans in, giving one final push to a stray strand of your hair before tilting his head toward the bed across the room. “C’mon, darlin’. This couch is barely holdin’ us together.”

You hesitate, but Ben’s already moving, holding out his hand as he stands up. His grip is strong, guiding you as you follow him to the bed, and he lets out a soft chuckle as you settle beside him. His arm drapes around you, pulling you close as you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against you. The warmth is so consuming, cocooning you immediately.

Ben smiles down at you, a playful glint in his eye, and as his fingers find your hair again, he starts twirling a strand between his fingers. “So,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of your head, “ya still gonna keep me blocked, huh?”

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Fine,” you reply, unlocking your phone with a playful huff. You find his name, well, technically his new contact name since you’d deleted him in a fit of anger, and type a single white heart emoji, pressing send.

The vibration of his phone buzzes beside him, and he pulls it out with a grin, holding up the glowing screen. “There it is. Knew ya couldn’t resist me,” he says, laughing as he pulls you in close as he kisses your temple.

But just as you relax against him, you notice a missed notification. It’s a text from Coco, her reply to your earlier message asking where she’d disappeared to after dinner. You hesitate, then, instead of texting back, you tap the Facetime icon, feeling a strange urge to share this quiet moment, finding words couldn't suffice, nor were you in the mood to type out a lengthy paragraph.

The call connects, and Coco’s face appears, a gasp escaping her as she spots you two tangled up in Ben’s bed, nestled together with his arm around you.

“Oh my god! Yes!” she cheers, loud enough to make Ben chuckle. You hear laughter and cheers in the background too, and Coco turns the camera, revealing the whole dinner table watching with knowing smiles.

"Coco, this was a set-up plan, huh?" you giggle as you see the entire friend group on the other end.

"Somewhat, but blame Morgan and Taylor, not me. They did all that," she throws the blame as she points the camera over to them. Frances, Morgan and Taylor wave and Frances yells “Look at Ben! Already got her in bed, huh?”

Ben rolls his eyes, but a faint blush colours his cheeks. He pulls you closer, his hand resting protectively around your shoulders as he grins.

“Hey now,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “This one’s special. Ain’t like any other. My lucky charm.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, and you’re so focused on him that you barely notice Coco and the others making gagging noises before Ben reaches out, ending the call on your phone with a smirk. Then he turns back to you, his eyes soft, filled with something that feels dangerously like forever.

He leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender, each second lingering with quiet promises. And in the warmth of his arms, your heart finally feels at home, exactly where it belongs.

[lyinginmeadow]

Imprimere sole I Paul Lahote x Swan!OC

Summary: One Swan sister left to live with her mother, while the other stayed behind, making friends of her own on the reservation. Friends who grew up and changed, leaving her confused and hurting. Word count: 3,8k

TW: angst, abandonment, injury, curse words A/N: The story takes place before the events of twilight, but it will caught up to it in no time! I changed a lot (like the ages of Jared and Paul, they are older: 17/18ish), so be aware. It will probably be long, too, haha. I also posted it on wattpad, so if anyone's interested <3 Chapter 1 - indigo ->

I couldn't understand how everything fell apart so quickly. One day, I was laughing with all my friends in the cafeteria, and the next day, they were all gone, avoiding my calls. What hurt the most was that they didn't tell me the reason for their departure. It started innocently. Sam was close to graduating, but before he could, he disappeared. He came back just to finish his final exams, ghosting not only our friend group but also Leah, who was his girlfriend. 

She tried to make it look like it didn't bother her, but it did. It especially stung since she dedicated two weeks to finding him when he went missing. She tried her best to reach him, but to no avail, and before she could attempt to save her relationship with him, her family whisked her away to visit her relatives a month before summer officially started. And due to a bad reception, we couldn't talk as much, making her the second friend lost in just under a month.

Sam started to act weird; instead of thinking of college like he always dreamed about, he looked as if he was on steroids. He grew at least a foot taller, cutting his locks and getting a tattoo. A stern, conscious look replaced his easygoing smile.

Jared heard from his mom that Sam decided to stay, forfeiting his dream, which didn't sound like him. He always talked about his plans with such passion. He almost gave all of us a heart attack when neither of us could reach him. He disappeared for two weeks, and after returning, he acted as if he didn't know us. And frankly, we didn't know him; he changed completely.

The next person to leave was Jared, who bad-mouthed Sam for his decisions, making fun of the situation. The jokes subsided, and he became distant. When I visited La Push with Paul, I would see glimpses of Jared with Sam. He stopped coming to school, making both of us worried. Did they become a part of a gang? I tried to reach both of them, but Jared's parents refused to let either of us in, and as far as I knew, Sam was never home anymore, so I didn't even bother coming. I couldn't shake the bad feeling that things were about to get worse.

What once was a friend group of 5 had now transformed into just Paul and me. He reassured me that nothing could come between us, that he loved me, and that he would make sure we got our friends back someday.

It started as a simple fever. Paul and I went out to enjoy the sun. Walking along the beach, the rays were tickling my cheeks, making me smile in contentment. Summer had always been my favorite season because it was the time when we would throw bonfires every weekend, go camping, and be awake till the late hours without a care in the world.

Paul's eyebrows pinched, his gaze shifting to the forest surrounding the beach. As if he were looking for something that wasn't there. Something I couldn't see. I reached out to take hold of his hand, but quickly pulled back. "Paul, you're burning up," I exclaimed, putting my hand on his forehead, worry lacing my voice.

He tried to dismiss my worries, his eyes still searching the trees, "I feel fine."

"Now is not the time to play hero. Come on, I'll drive." I offered, taking hold of his hand. He squeezed it, putting on a small smile. His gaze kept returning to the forest, but I didn't find it in me to care about the reason. I needed to take him home so he could eat some soup and be all better. I didn't want to admit to myself that this was how Sam and Jared left, too. With a simple fever.

I held onto that hope for the first week. I came by every day after school to check up on him, but his father didn't let me see him, even if I begged. He would send me on my way with the same sentence every day, "He doesn't want you to get sick, Lizzie. You know how he is."

But the truth was, I didn't know. Whenever one of us was sick, the other would sneak in and spend the entire time with them. Ever since we became best friends, that's how it was. Sitting in the car dad had repaired for me to use to commute to school, my eyes watered. The ache was magnifying in my chest every second. It didn't help that sleep seemed to evade me. Instead of dreamless nights, I woke up with an image of a wolf branded into my mind.

By the second week, the pain seemed to take over my whole body, and the sorrow melted into anger.

I plastered a fake smile for Charlie, and thankfully, he bought it. With him leaving in the early hours for his shift, he didn't see me waking up with tears staining my cheeks. Food had become less appetizing each day that passed. I never imagined someone leaving without a reason could leave such a hollow pain whenever I woke up. The colors of the world, once bright and golden, seemed dull in comparison.

Every movement felt impossible, but as the anger burned stronger, so did my will to not let any of them win. If they wanted to leave without so much as a goodbye, I would let them with a head held high.

Or at least that is what I wanted to do, what I intended. But the gaze of other students made my anger falter. Their eyes filled with pity, that I had no one in here anymore.

I was a stranger who attended this school because I grew up around La Push rather than in Fork. My childhood was spent with Sue and her children. Now that my friends had disappeared from my life, I had no ties to La Push, just memories. 

The only person trying to get to me was Embry, but whenever he sat down to talk to me, within the next minute, Jacob would drag him away.

Jake and I used to play together when we were children, but we grew apart when he found his friend group and I found mine. I was also older and gravitated toward being friends with his sister rather than him. Tormenting him was an added bonus, he didn't like to be reminded of. He also didn't forgive me for dating Paul, whom he found excessively annoying. A fact I understood, since Paul sometimes seemed like an asshole. From what I heard, now more than ever. And Jake assumed that I would join the guys and become the same, so he tried to protect Embry from it. Needless to say, every time Jake visited with Billy was painfully awkward.

One day, I finally got hold of Leah. I cursed the one who decided that she had to go off-grid right when I needed her here. But before I got the chance to say anything, she mumbled the words that Sam had broken up with her. Over the phone.

What a fucking coward.

I spent the whole phone call cursing him out, trying to bring Leah's mood up. Her parents, mostly Sue, insisted that since her behavior had changed so drastically given the breakup, they would probably come back at the end of July, extending their stay. More than a month from now. I tried to sound positive, telling her to find a nice rebound. That Sam was a fool for letting someone as perfect as her go. She guessed something was off with me, but fortunately didn't press.

I cut all contact with Bella, my sister, making up excuses about finals and exams that had me studying. But even she wore the same look as everyone else. Her look of pity haunted me in my dreams. It was mixed with a tinge of worry that was not strong enough for her to call Charlie and demand what was happening. Maybe if she lived here, she would try to help me. But she didn't, she was miles away with our mother in Phoenix. Not intend to move to gloomy old Forks anytime soon.

By the third week, I felt as if I was losing my mind. School was over, and I didn't have anything to keep my mind focused on. Maybe all I craved was a proper closure. Ending the years I spent pouring my love into something. But deep down, I knew that the cut they opened with their departure wouldn't heal by simply getting answers. Still, I couldn't know for sure if I didn't try. I called the Lahote residence again, but was met with a mere voicemail. "Fine," I grumbled. I took out the soup I made for Dad from the fridge, and took off.

The engine of the old red BMW roared as I soared through the forest to the familiar town.

Paul's house was small, the light blue color now faded due to the old age of the building. Parking the car in the driveway, I tried ringing the doorbell, but I was met with no answer. The anger ignited again, putting down the container next to the front door, I decided to look around the premises. 

His window was on the other side, overlooking the backyard and forest, but his room was empty, bed undone. The whole room was a mess, clothes lying on the floor, and stuffing of the pillows scattered around. I sighed, looking at the mess, noticing a broken frame in the middle of it.

A photo Leah took of the two of us just two months ago. He looked at me like I hung the moon while I was laughing about something Jared had said. We were celebrating Sam's birthday, and everything was perfect. Maybe not as perfect as I thought. Was he thinking back then about leaving?

Tears welled up in my eyes, stinging. I whipped around, leaving the scene behind me. They were making their way down my cheek as I sped through La Push. Leaving the town behind me, the forest lining the main road became a blur.

Stepping on the brakes, the car came to a screeching halt. I could barely see through the tears. And as much as I was hurting, I was not a reckless driver. Charlie drilled into me how important being a conscious driver was, and how it could save lives. I witnessed firsthand how a car crash could tear a family into pieces. 

My friends might have abandoned me, but the places we used to go to were still here. I hiked through the woods, cursing my past self for picking out a summer dress and flats that were not suitable for Washington conditions. 

After what felt like an hour of a never-ending tangle of greenery, the rays of sunshine broke through.

A soft smile flashed over my face as I sat down, looking over the scenery. The ocean roared just beneath, the salt was heavy in the air even from this distance. It was summer, but the wind was still cold; the only thing making it tolerable was the sun shining high above.

Closing my eyes, memories came rushing through. Of the time I first met him, and how it changed my perspective. Even back then, I knew there was something special about the scruffy kid from Tacoma.

No one wanted to play with him, Leah even stuck her tongue out, when he came to the playground asking if he could play with us. The boys ran each time, not wanting to bond with an outsider.

Not me.

I came over to him, extending my hand toward him. He didn't seem to trust me at first, his eyes narrowed. "I'm Lizzie, let's play together." I smiled, dimples flashing. He slowly took it, a smile appearing not long after. "I'm Paul." He mumbled, and I squeezed his hand before dragging him toward the others.

"This is Paul, he's my new best friend." I flashed everyone a cheeky smile. Leah was not happy I replaced her, so I had to promise her that he was the boy-best friend and she was more like my sister than anything, which she accepted, but I had to pinky promise. Since then, they entered a competition on who would have more of my attention. But both of them held a special place in my heart for different reasons.

Another one flashed by.

He took me to the place we always hang out together when we wanted to get away from our friends. We thought we were being sneaky, but in truth, they always knew where we were venturing off to. But Leah bullied Sam and Jared into giving us space because she knew how much I wanted to spend time with my childhood crush. It was ridiculous since he didn't seem to return those feelings.

We were sitting there, laughing about some gossip, when suddenly he tensed up. The sun was beginning to set, which meant we would have to head back. He turned to face me, blushing.

"I like you. A lot." He said nervously. I never saw him being nervous about anything, much less girls. He always seemed so natural when talking to them, and normally, I was no exception. Blinking a couple of times to shake the thoughts of Paul being with other people, you smiled.

"I like you, too, silly. Took you long enough." Before he could react, I kissed him. It was a sloppy kiss, but a memorable one nonetheless.

A tear slipped down my cheek. I was so exhausted that sleep didn't seem to find me back home. But here, surrounded by all the memories, laughter echoing, my consciousness slipped away from me.

The cold breeze made me jerk awake. The sun was now long gone, the moonlight resting on my face. "Shit, shit, shit." I hastily stood up. Feeling light-headed, I had to find the nearest tree for support. Charlie's going to kill me was the first thought that popped into my head. If I didn't kill myself first trying to get back on the road.

In the daytime, I had no problem navigating the woods. I grew up around here, and it was as natural as breathing. But nighttime was a different story. My inner compass didn't seem to work properly.

I mindlessly sped through the forest, becoming more and more frustrated. Tears were now freely running down my cheek, obscuring my vision further. How could I have been so stupid to go here alone? Not that I had anyone who would accompany me.

The greenery seemed endless, the stray branches lashing my face and hands as I quickened my pace in sheer panic. I stupidly left my phone in the car, dad was probably freaking out already, wondering why I wasn't safe at home.

Lost in panic, my foot caught on a rock, making me lose balance. My ankle caved, twisting at an unnatural angle, as I took a tumble down a small rocky hill. I began to shake uncontrollably as anxiety mixed with pain from my wounds rocked through me, sitting in a little creek that soaked my clothes.

I tried to stand up, but my ankle didn't let me. Sobbing harder, I sat there for what felt like an hour. 

But the inner voice, the one last part trying to keep me sane, urged me to stand up. Get out of the cold water. My scraped palms found slippery rocks, using them to crawl out of the creek one by one.

I was so tired and cold. All I truly wanted was to curl up and just shut my eyes for a little bit, reveling the the sound of his voice. In my nightmares, it usually didn't sound so soft.

"Billy called." Sam's rough voice shattered Paul's train of thought. He barely lifted his gaze to meet his. Being away from Lizzie hurt like nothing he had ever experienced. He didn't understand it. He loved her, but he couldn't have her. Not until he learned to control himself. And even then, the secret was too big for him to risk it. And bringing her in on it was not an option; it would put not only her but the pack in danger. And as much as he hated himself for hurting her, it was the right thing to do. It didn't change the fact that he couldn't bring himself to fully let her go. 

He went to the Swan house just to make sure she was okay every chance he got. His heart was breaking more in the process of being there and not being able to touch her or look into her eyes.

See her smile, which made the colors dance and the world around dim. 

Jared didn't want to patrol with him anymore, since he was so snappy around everyone. And Sam didn't know how to help him, so he let him visit her house, even when he knew how unhealthy it was. He was dealing with taking care of Emily, who was still in the hospital after he had hurt her. Another reason added to the growing list of why Lizzie was better off without him.

But Paul couldn't help himself, something was pulling him to her. And the pain seemed to subdue by a fraction, just to be replaced by his conscience.

"They can't find Liz. She didn't come home from school."

Time slowed. Before Sam could order him anything, Paul bolted out the door. The one time he doesn't accompany her car from school to home, she decides to disappear. All possibilities run through his head like a thunderstorm. What if scenarios that he wasn't able to stop. She could be lying in the ditch somewhere. A car crash. Or a vampire.

He shifted, discarding his clothes in the process. Running through the wood, he tried to catch her scent, any sign of her. His heart was beating faster with every second he couldn't find her. He could hear Sam shouting orders in his mind, but it was all drowned out by his worry for her. It was she who occupied his every thought, his entire existence.

He couldn't understand how she had such a strong hold on him. She always seemed to be the light that shone, guiding him. It was like that since he met her all those years ago.

Running onto the road, not a care in the world that something could hit him. His gaze found a small red car parked at the side of the road, all abandoned.

Her car.

He sent a message through his mind to Sam, informing him of the new development, and took off running.

He knew this part of the forest, and he knew her. If she needed to clear her head, she came here. She always came to this spot with him. Why didn't he think of it? But before he got to it, he caught her scent. She was so close.

The moon was shining, casting shadows on the path. Paul slowed down, changing the course to her location. He could hear her now, quietly sobbing, muttering an incoherent melody. He peeked through the thick greenery, trying not to make a sound. His wolf form was hard to hide, but her eyes were closed. She was shivering, her drenched clothes hanging onto her form.

He stifled a whine coming out of his throat. "I've got her." Sending another mental message down the shared bond between his brothers, he backed up a couple of steps, losing sight of her once again. He shifted back to his human form.

Thankfully, since he and his brothers came to these parts of the woods often, there was a bag of clothes nearby.

Coming back to her, she didn't change her position, still hugging her shivering form. He stepped closer, kneeling before her, but she didn't notice him. She seemed to be lost in a trance. His warm palm found her freezing hand, making her snap out of it. Lizzie gasped out loud, eyes opening in shock, looking around frenzied, disoriented. "Shh, it's me. I've got you." He cooed. 

Her eyes found his, and even in the darkness of the night, he felt it. The world shifted, everything seemed to blur as time slowed for just a second. The bond held him captive.

He was scared, terrified even, to face her after he shifted. Putting her in danger was one of the reasons he distanced himself. But the thought of not having her as an imprint terrified him. 

What if they spend years together just for an imprint to ruin it? Sam tried to fight it, but it was useless. What if he wasn't strong enough to fight it? He couldn't stomach the thought of someone coming between the two of them. He felt conflicted since her being his imprint meant she was a part of this dangerous world now. No way out.

She sobbed, snapping him out of the trance, "Paul?"

He blinked in shock, trying to regain composure. He needed to get her out, preferably to a hospital. "Are you hurt?" He searched every inch of her shivering body, which was now reaching towards him in an attempt to warm itself up.

She nodded, looking down at her ankle. She was missing a shoe, her leg was swollen and red. He reached out to touch it to examine how bad the wound was only for her to wince.

"Let's get you out of here, okay?" He whispered, trying to keep calm even when his own heart was racing. He gently picked her up, letting her put her scraped palms on his chest to warm up.

She didn't speak the whole way to the car, where Jared was already waiting. "Sam went to the Swan house to tell Charlie." He nodded, barely acknowledging him as he put Lizzie in the backseat of her car.

She opened her eyes to look up at him, pleading with him not to let go. He gently squeezed her hand, "I need to drive, beautiful." He whispered again before shutting the door. He jumped into the driver's seat, speeding through the woods to the hospital in Forks, leaving Jared behind. It was not ideal by any means. He didn't want her anywhere near Dr. Fang, but he had no choice. She needed medical attention, and they could offer it. The only thing Paul could do was hope, he didn't have tonight's shift.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 28.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

-

A/n: Kind of shifting slightly from (y/n). This is gonna be so damn painful. I'm not sorry >:) Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

-

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

rehab masterlist. chapter 26 / chapter 27

His nerves were shot as Bucky sat in the quinjet; the hums of the engines a monotonous symphony within the tight and confined space. The scent of oil, metal, and fuel burning had Bucky's nostrils flaring and cursing his enhanced ability to smell. It was familiar-clinical and cold and making his hackles rise with every second he laid eyes on the bruised man locked up in the back.

He was on his way back to the US, Clint and Steve in the front within the cockpit. Natasha was sitting across from Bucky, the two of them watching over Rollins as they transported him. The man, thankfully, was still unconscious, but Bucky couldn't stop glaring at the man. His blue eyes were steeled, his lips pursed, and Natasha's voice made him glance at her before glancing back at Rollins.

"You're doing the staring thing again."

Bucky didn't respond for a moment and Natasha just smirked slightly before she asked, tilting her head as she sat back in her seat with an inquisitive look on her face.

"I thought you were going to stay in Wakanda with (Y/n)? Did you get cold feet?"

Bucky shook his head, reaffirming to her as his fist slightly clenched.

"I am. I just have some things that I need to do."

Natasha observed him for a moment, trying to read him and understand what it was that he was doing before she huffed a little, unable to get a good read as Bucky continued just to stare at Rollins.

"You want to let me in on the scoop?"

"Nope."

His voice was clipped and short; signifying his desire to stay quiet about his business, and Natasha just gazed at him before shrugging.

"Alright, I'll find out one way or another."

Bucky finally looked at Natasha, a serious look on his face as he spoke.

"I really do not want you, or anybody, to know about this. It's not like I'm doing something illegal that you'd have to notify my therapist about...and have to have her break out the emergency couch and that passive-aggressive fucking notebook of hers."

Natasha hummed, shrugging again.

"Not my monkey, not my circus. Though, you realize that once you get back, you're going to have to talk to her, right?"

He absolutely did not want to do that. While Bucky knew that the court-mandated therapy sessions were apart of his condition to being pardoned and becoming an Avenger, Bucky wasn't a huge fan of Dr. Raynor. He'd only been seeing her for a few months, but her no-nonsense and blunt demeanor made it hard to talk to her.

Even if she was able to get him to speak.

Fuck the notebook, disrespectfully, however.

Bucky just pursed his lips and stated, shaking his head a little as the annoyance began to ripple through him like a tidal wave.

"I'll give her a call when I get back...or just have Steve tell her that I'm on official business and to leave me the hell alone."

Natasha nodded, and when the quinjet finally landed at the Avengers compound, Bucky already began to miss the quiet that came with Wakanda. The compound was hustling and bustling as everyone prepared for Rollins arrival, but Bucky didn't intend to stick around. The smells, the sounds, the ungodly bright lights, it was just too much for Bucky. He quickly stood up, but was stopped by Steve calling his name.

"Bucky, what's going on in that head of yours?"

Bucky felt a sense of guilt run through him as he looked at Steve's concerned face.

"Is everything okay?"

Bucky nodded despite feeling horrible for lying.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to get some things for (Y/n)...maybe to see if she'll remember or if something will jog her memory."

Steve nodded before offering.

"Do you want me to help you?"

Bucky gently clasped Steve's shoulder, thanking him.

"Thanks, but I got it. Just don't do anything stupid until I get back."

Steve then grinned, the familiar line settling Bucky's nerves just the slightest as the Captain replied.

"How can I when you're taking all the stupid with you? Be careful out there, Buck."

Bucky nodded before he was quick to get out of the compound. Weaving in and out of the crowd of people, Bucky was glad to finally step out of the building and set his eyes onto his motorcycle. Heaving a sigh of relief, he swung his leg over the seat and murmured to himself as he turned the bike on.

"Hey, doll."

Bucky immediately set off, the way to his destination engraved into his brain as it had been for years. Despite the determination and desperation that licked at his heels as he speeded down the blacktop, Bucky wasn't sure if what he was about to do was smart.

But he had to see if her life still existed somehow outside of HYDRA.

The trip took about 12 hours normally, but Bucky had been able to shave it down to just 9 with minimal stops reduced to just refueling. When blacktop turned into gravel and the modern environment evolved into the familiar countryside, the sun beginning to shine brightly high in the sky, Bucky's heart began to race once more.

He knew these roads like the back of his hand; could remember him and Rebecca running all over the small town while their mother and father yelled at them to stay close. However, the further he got into the town, the more jarring it became to see the many new houses standing within the terrain.

Houses that he had known well were turned into modern dwellings, streetlights that had never been in the area decorating every inch of the streets, and the ghost of nostalgia began to whisper when Bucky noticed that some houses from back then were still standing. Turning down a particular road, a ping from Bucky's phone made the man slow his bike and pull off to the side.

Sam: You owe me for this, Bicentennial Man. Had to ask Natasha for some help too since a lot of (Y/n)'s records were scrubbed. (Y/n) had an Aunt named Mavis Greene-Callahan that lived in Shelbyville. Her husband, Bobby Callahan, was enlisted and stationed at Camp Atterbury for a while. If she's still around, she's living on Maplewood Lane.

Bucky was surprised by the information. Maplewood Lane was only a few streets away from where he grew up. The fact that his childhood home was so close to (Y/n) in an indirect way...it made Bucky unsure how to feel, if he was honest. Surprised? Guilty? Worried? Did HYDRA keep tabs on Rebecca because of all of this too?

Bucky then continued down the street towards his destination. The first house he passed as he went deep into Shelbyville still carried the same weathered charm it had before-ugly, yellow shutters against the white alabaster paint that was in dire-need of pressure-washing.

For a brief moment, Bucky could have sworn he saw an image of Rebecca and him sitting on the porch while their father spoke to John McGowan, the owner of the home. Shaking his head, Bucky pursed his lips. He couldn't let himself get distracted by the beats of the past.

His bike slowed to a coast as he began to near Maplewood Lane, and when he spotted the large two-story house with a big sign hanging from the leaning mailbox 'Greene-Callahan!' in faded green paint, he paused. The porch was modest, a nice open porch with a worn-down rocking chair that was swaying gently in the wind. Flowerboxes were beneath the window, planted with (fave flower) that shined brightly within the sun and carried their scent to him; familiar and comforting.

The mundane sight of the home made Bucky wonder if he should disturb it, but Bucky couldn't ignore it. He had to do this. He had to. Pulling his bike into the driveway where a deteriorated bullnose Ford pickup sat, the unsightly turquoise paint fading into a pastel green from sun damage made his eyes hurt.

Kicking the stand down and sliding off of his seat, Bucky became nervous, wringing his hands together; leather crinkling as he fidgeted. The stone path that led to the porch was cracked, weeds fighting to peek between the crevices, and Bucky felt as though he was walking straight into the past.

In a way, he was.

Would she remember him too?

Standing in front of the screen door, Bucky took a deep breath and knocked on the door. An elderly woman's voice called through the door, and after some time of shuffling, the door slowly opened to reveal an old woman. As the woman looked at him, Bucky sucked in a breath.

The resemblance was there; (e/c) eyes that were kind but weathered from time, sun spots littering her skin from time tending to the garden, and her white hair was pulled into a loose bun; strands framing her face. She was wearing a modest Sunday dress that was decorated with flowers, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and her face lit up with a smile as she greeted Bucky.

"Oh, my, forgive me, dear. My legs aren't as they used to be. How may I help you?"

Her voice was kind and soft; no ounce of pain or sorrow within her words, and Bucky immediately felt terrible about having to dredge up the past; a past he wondered if the woman still remembered. His voice was unsure, unsteady as he spoke as the woman regarded him with a curious look.

"Um, hello, ma'am. My name is James...I was looking for someone who used to live here? Mavis Greene-Callahan?"

Although the woman didn't seem to mean to, her eyes squinted slightly as an air of suspicion came about her. She tilted her head, asking as she straightened up just the slightest, her weathered hands using her walker as support.

"Mavis? Well, I'm Mavis. You've come to see me?"

Bucky nodded, and he felt the anxiety begin to eat at him. How did he ask about (Y/n)? How did he broach this topic with the woman? How did he make it easy?

"Yes, ma'am. I...wanted to ask you a few questions, if you had the time? It's...it's about your niece. (Y/n) (L/n)."

Bucky noticed it immediately: Mavis faltered just the slightest; her eyes becoming tainted with the weight of the name. Her hands tightened against the walker for a moment, her lips pursing just the slightest, and she readjusted her glasses carefully as she let out a shaky breath.

"(Y/n)...now, that's a name I haven't heard in a long time. Why don't you come inside, dear? I just made some fresh lemonade! My sons are supposed to come to mow the lawn and help with my garden. I'm sure you've traveled a long way if you wish to talk about (Y/n)."

Bucky immediately reached out to hold the door open for Mavis so the screen door didn't crash into her as she slowly turned, and she gave him a thankful and sheepish smile before she turned and slowly walked inside. As Bucky stepped inside, he carefully scanned the town before closing the door behind him.

Turning, Bucky felt extremely out-of-place.

They were immediately within the living room, a light brown wallpaper decorating the walls. There was a large entertainment center with a TV that was playing the latest episode of Wheel of Fortune.

There was a small coffee table in front of a worn sofa, a couple of books stacked and a Bible currently flipped open and a candle burning that filled the living room with the scent of lavender and vanilla.

Pictures were hung on the wall, a large portrait of what Bucky assumed to be Mavis and Bobby's wedding photo. There were a few others, some Bucky immediately recognizing Doris in, and another photo caught his eye. It was Doris and Mavis with Robert and Bobby, a baby (Y/n) within Doris' arms.

You wouldn't have been able to guess that Robert and Doris were involved with HYDRA with how happy they looked.

There were a few more photos of (Y/n) as she was growing up, but the pictures seemed to jump between eras; one of (Y/n) as a child, a teenager, when she was in high school, and the last photo...

The same photo that (Y/n) clutched onto like a lifeline.

Bucky glanced at Mavis, who was still walking towards the kitchen, and Bucky followed after her. The sound of old-time country music filtered through a radio that was sitting on the ledge of a window situated right above the sink, the slightest bit of static breaking through every now and then.

A shelf was built above the outdated stove, a collection of spoons and fruit-shaped salt-n-pepper shakers with various State names on them. The tile flooring was in need of some TLC, creaking in the spots that were more commonly walked upon, and there was a dish towel hanging from the door of the oven that was printed with 'Merry Christmas! - 1957'.

There was a distant smell of freshly baked bread and a prominent scent of sugar and citrus. A large pitcher of fresh lemonade was on the counter, a couple of lemons both juiced and simply sliced were lying on a wooden cutting board that had definitely seen better days. Mavis' shaky hands reached to grab some glasses, and Bucky jumped into action.

"Here, allow me, ma'am."

Mavis was surprised, a pleasant look upon her face as she smiled and patted his shoulder; Bucky freezing and hoping she didn't notice how his left arm didn't exactly feel human.

"Oh, aren't you just the sweetest, James. Thank you. Would you mind pouring my glass for me? These damn hands don't work like they used to either."

Bucky nodded, pouring lemonades for the two of them, and he held his flesh arm out for Mavis as he helped to steady her as she sat down in a chair with homemade crocheted seat covers at the kitchen table before sitting adjacent to her, his ass immediately uncomfortable with the feeling of the cushion beneath him. Mavis adjusted her glasses before regarding James with a gentle expression.

"Now, I'm sure you have some stories to tell. It's been...a very long time since anyone has mentioned (Y/n)."

She sipped her lemonade carefully, her eyes glancing down with a twinge of sadness to them before she continued after taking a quick breath.

"Why do you ask about her?"

Bucky wasn't sure what to do. Did Mavis know about Project Achilles? Did she have any idea of what had become of (Y/n)? By the way Mavis spoke, it seemed that she was no longer aware or had simply forgotten, but Bucky knew he was going to have to rip the bandage off anyway.

"I...don't really know how to say this to you, ma'am. I don't want to drop this on you if...if you're not ready."

Mavis watched him carefully before she muttered, a strange new demeanor coming about her that had Bucky immediately on edge.

"If you're afraid to tell me of what's become of (Y/n) because of Project Achilles, don't be."

Bucky was stunned, his mouth dropping open as he stared at Mavis, and the silence between them was palpable-heavy and thick enough that it was like it began to choke him against his will. Bucky couldn't help but to ask quietly.

"You...you knew?"

Mavis closed her eyes, her nostrils flaring just the slightest as she held her frail hand to her lips. She took a deep breath before she replied softly.

"I didn't know a lot...not in the way that Doris and Robert did, but the signs...the feelings...they were there. I never got the full picture. I knew something was wrong when Doris stopped calling and sending letters, when Robert stopped allowing me to see my niece, and...she just disappeared."

Her face became sullen as her voice choked slightly, and Bucky couldn't help but to feel terrible about forcing the woman to relive memories she probably hadn't thought of in a long time.

"I tried to ask questions...knocked on doors that I shouldn't have...and HYDRA made it known that they wouldn't tolerate nosiness. Bobby...Bobby wouldn't let it go, and it cost us both."

Her eyes strayed to a large portrait of a man on the wall, a plaque beneath it listing Bobby's name. He was in his uniform, a large smile on his timeless face, and Mavis' lips smacked as she took another breath.

"Tell me...what became of her?"

Bucky took a deep breath before he revealed quietly.

"HYDRA had (Y/n) taken and made her into a Winter Soldier. Robert...Robert was in on it, cultivated the super soldier serum specifically for her."

Mavis' eyes widened, a gasp leaving her lips as she clutched her chest, and tears began to wet her eyes. Bucky took a moment to allow Mavis to process the information before he continued.

"She's still alive, and...we found her."

Mavis' hand clutched at the table, the worn wood contrasting greatly with her skin, and she whispered in shock, her eyes looking off into the distance somewhere over Bucky's shoulders.

"She's...alive? Oh, James, please...is (Y/n) alright?"

Bucky pursed his lips, murmuring truthfully.

"Not entirely. HYDRA...they did some pretty bad things to her. They made her forget everything about her life to turn her into a weapon...but since she's been found, we've been working on rehabilitating her...helping her to remember. She remembered...Shelbyville...specifically a woman named...named Rebecca Barnes, and we found you by digging into Doris and Robert's lives."

Mavis let out a small little laugh, a sound that Bucky hadn't been expecting before Mavis explained as she took her glasses off to wipe her eyes of the tears that had gathered and kissed her lashes.

"She remembered Rebecca? Oh, of course she would have."

Mavis shook her head slightly as Bucky leaned in, giving the woman his undivided attention.

"Rebecca was a part of the church, which is how I met her. A sweet young thing, she was. Rebecca would come for tea and to have my husband and I watch the kids when she needed to go into town. When I brought (Y/n) here to find some peace from the chaos that came from being in Doris' home, she met Rebecca."

Bucky couldn't help but to feel his chest cave in a little as he listened, but he tried not to let any of his emotions bleed onto his face as Mavis continued on.

"I swear, (Y/n) fell in love with Rebecca instantly! (Y/n) was a big writer, she loved to journal and scrapbook when she wasn't helping me in the garden or going to the market for groceries. Rebecca would bring her notebooks and novels to read. They would sit on the porch together to read and write together while watching the kids."

Bucky couldn't help but to smile slightly, the image of an older Rebecca befriending (Y/n) not too far-fetched. His sister had always been a friendly soul. Mavis smiled as well, tilting her head towards Bucky in an almost teasing manner.

"They were close, you know. Not in that frivolous way teenage girls sometimes cling to older women, but… Rebecca saw her. Treated her like her mind was worth something. I think that meant more to (Y/n) than she ever said out loud. (Y/n)...she held a lot of weight from the stress of homelife thanks to Robert. She wanted to be a writer...but HYDRA didn't want that."

Mavis glanced down the hallway before glancing at Bucky and she gestured to him, standing up shakily.

"Wait here for a moment, son."

Bucky was left at the table, the sound of the grandfather clock in the corner ticking loudly in time with his hammering heart; the sound of the static-laced country music echoing through his mind, and Mavis came back with a couple of worn-leather bound journals and a few letters.

"When (Y/n) left to go back to (hometown), Rebecca hadn't been able to get her address. She'd been out of town to take James and Beverly to the doctors, and wasn't able to give (Y/n) her goodbyes. She would write her letters often...but I knew that if I sent them, they would never reach (Y/n). So...I kept them...and her journals...hoping that...that one day my niece would come back."

The names James and Beverly had Bucky's mind reeling, and he couldn't help but to breathlessly stutter.

"Rebecca...named her son James?"

Mavis gave Bucky a quizzical expression before nodding and setting the letters and journals down onto the table in front of Bucky for Bucky to sift through.

"Yes. Rebecca thought it would honor her brother, who was killed in action during World War II. His full name is Nathan James Barnes-Proctor, and her daughter is Beverly Winnifred Barnes-Proctor."

It took everything within Bucky not to burst into tears, and Bucky shakily grabbed the journals. He flipped them open, careful not to tear the age-worn pages as (Y/n)'s beautiful penmanship jumped out at him.

There were certain pages that served as diary pages, and others that were hastily-scribbled story ideas that made Bucky's lips tick up slightly with amusement as the curious words and premises lit up the pages.

Some pages had a different handwriting that Bucky instantly knew was Rebecca's-her cursive looser and more rounded. There were doodles in the margins of the paper, a habit that Rebecca had since she was young. The entry that was on the page seemed to be a message from Rebecca, and Mavis elaborated with a small chuckle.

"The two of them would pass the journals off to each other like kids passing notes. It was quite endearing...and sometimes, James and Beverly would scribble their own little things in. (Y/n) was in the process of teaching them math since they weren't very good at it, and she would use her journal to let them work."

Bucky didn't respond, his eyes scanning Rebecca's handwriting over and over as he read the message written into the page.

You remind me of James sometimes. The way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating, the way you never seem to give up—even when the odds are stacked against you...and those horrendous jokes of yours! I think you would have liked him. I think he would have liked you, too.

His fingers trembled against the edges of the page, his throat tight. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, and Bucky looked up at Mavis with an almost boyish expression of loss and surprise. Mavis murmured quietly.

"If...if these things can help (Y/n) remember...to come home...please give them to her. I'm not getting any younger...and I'd love to meet my niece again."

Bucky nodded and Mavis handed him a crochet bag to put the journals and letters in. Bucky began to pack away the journals and letters, but was stopped by Mavis holding out a tin container. Her white eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and she whispered.

"Pictures...she needs to see to remember."

Bucky nodded, thanking Mavis breathlessly.

"Thank you...Thank you. This...this helps more than you know."

Not just (Y/n), but Bucky as well. Mavis smiled at Bucky gently before walking with him to the porch. Bucky turned to Mavis, stating with a determined tone to his voice.

"I promise...I'll help her to remember so she can meet you again. Whatever it takes."

Mavis smiled wistfully before she stated fondly.

"I know you will, son."

Bucky nodded before saying his farewells, and he was careful to tuck the bag into the saddlebag that was attached to his bike. Sliding on, Bucky was stopped by Mavis' voice carrying through the Indiana breeze.

"Oh, James?"

Bucky looked up, his eyes catching the teasing quirk of Mavis' lips, a strange knowing look within her eyes that had Bucky on edge just the slightest.

"Rebecca never forgot about you...and she would have been very proud of you. Oh, and you should look into getting that metal arm of yours heated. Helps with the illusion."

Bucky felt the wind get knocked out of him, but before he could respond, Mavis was already on her way back inside. She had known this whole time? Bucky sat in the driveway for a moment, the weight of her words hitting him, and Bucky clenched his fists a bit before he fished out his dog tags from beneath his shirt. Clutching onto them, he stared down at them, even as they glinted at him in the light of the sun, and he let out a breathless huff of disbelief.

After all this time, Rebecca never forgot. The weight of the knowledge was heavy with the regret that he couldn't have been there for her; that he was never able to meet his niece and nephew, but Bucky wondered if it had been for the best.

He was glad she never knew him as he was before, but Bucky wished that he could have spoken to her one last time. Given Mavis' wording, he had to assume that Rebecca had passed. It filled him with a bittersweet sadness, and Bucky turned his bike on.

There was a part of him that was tempted to visit his childhood home; to see what Rebecca had turned the home into, but Bucky resisted. This wasn't entirely about him...but someday.

Carefully backing out of the drive, Mavis waved at him through the window, and Bucky waved back, a small smile on his face before he revved the engine and sped down the road, eager and content to get back to Wakanda.

Bucky to Sam: I owe you for a lifetime.

-

STORY NOTES: Bucky has accompanied Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Clint as they travel back to the US with Rollins' to deliver him into government custody. Natasha is sitting across from Bucky, and she asks him about staying in Wakanda. Bucky affirms that he is planning to stay in Wakanda, but that he has a few things to take care of in the States. Natasha inquires about this, but Bucky refuses to tell her. He tells her that he doesn't want anybody to know what he is up to, that what he was doing was perfectly legal, and nobody would need to notify his court-appointed therapist. Natasha tells him that he will need to speak to her at some point, and Bucky tells her that he will or to have Steve tell her that Bucky is on official business and to leave him alone. When the team arrives back to the Avengers compound, Bucky tries to leave as soon as he can but is stopped by Steve. Steve asks him what is going on, and Bucky states vaguely that he wants to get a few things for (Y/n). Steve offers to help, but Bucky refuses. When Bucky gets to his bike, he immediately sets off for Shelbyville, Indiana.

When Bucky gets back to Shelbyville, he begins to reminisce about the town, remembering bits and pieces of his childhood. He is interrupted by a text from Sam, telling him of the relative that (Y/n) had stayed with during her summer excursions. In no time, Bucky arrives to Mavis Greene-Callahan's house. After some hesitation, Bucky knocks and is introduced to Mavis. Once they get settled, Mavis inquires Bucky on why he wants to ask about (Y/n), and when Bucky tries to broach the topic carefully, Mavis reveals that she knows about Project Achilles and to not be afraid to tell her about what happened to (Y/n).

Bucky is stunned, and Mavis reveals that she didn't know a lot about it, but knew something was wrong when Doris and Robert stopped contacting her. She reveals that she tried to figure out what happened along with her husband, but alludes that HYDRA killed Bobby to warn Mavis to stay out of their business. Bucky reveals that (Y/n) is alive, was found, and is currently being rehabilitated. He tells Mavis that (Y/n) remembered Rebecca and Shelbyville and that he was able to find Mavis by digging into Doris and Robert's family.

Mavis isn't surprised that (Y/n) remembered Rebecca, and tells Bucky that Mavis had met Rebecca through church and would watch her kids for her when Rebecca would go into town. When (Y/n) came to Shelbyville, that's when she met Rebecca. Mavis tells Bucky that Rebecca and (Y/n) became friends instantly and bonded over their shared love for writing. She reveals that Rebecca would often buy journals and books for (Y/n) and they would write together. Mavis tells Bucky that (Y/n) admired Rebecca because Rebecca recognized her for her mind and not her accomplishments like Robert and Doris.

Mavis then leaves to retrieve some old journals and letters from Rebecca to (Y/n) that she had kept. She explains that (Y/n) left while Rebecca was taking her kids to the doctors, and Bucky finds out that Rebecca named her son after him and her daughter after their mother. Bucky then looks through the journals, and Mavis tells Bucky that Rebecca and (Y/n) would trade the journals like children passing notes, and that the kids would often use the journals as well since (Y/n) was in the process of tutoring them in mathematics. Bucky finds an entry from Rebecca that tells (Y/n) that she reminds Rebecca a lot of Bucky, and she thinks they would have been good friends too.

Mavis then asks Bucky to give the journals and letters to (Y/n) in hopes it will make her remember and come to see Mavis, and she also gives Bucky a tin of old pictures for him to give to (Y/n) as well. Bucky promises Mavis that he will help (Y/n) to remember. Before Bucky leaves, Mavis reveals that she knew who Bucky was the whole time, and jokes that he should get his metal arm heated to uphold the illusion of a human arm. Bucky is shocked, and he then begins to mull over the knowledge that Rebecca had never forgot about him. Bucky sends a text to Sam telling him that he 'owes him for a lifetime' and then he leaves to go back to Wakanda. End Scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

None

TAGLIST: @seemsxsketchy @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane @notsostrangerthing @thenameswinter99 @bumblebeebutter

[downbadace]

༊*·˚𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐃, 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃, 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍* - 𝐍𝐨. 𝟏-𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐑𝐞-𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 ೃ༄

Pairing: Megan Skiendiel/Sophia Laforteza

Attorneys, Megan Skiendiel and Sophia Laforteza, have been rivals ever since they met. Both are hard working individuals who want to one up each other. But when they're chose to help Ms.Gabriela from Gabriela Enterprises for a Lawsuit filed against her company, they have to learn to get along.

Content: Lawyer!AU, Mild Language, Secret Yearning, Slow-Burn

A/N: hi guys!!! thank you all so much for 300 followers it means sm to me that so mamy of you guys enjoy what i write :3 i'll try to post this series weekly but (as of writing this) i am hella busy cause imma be out of state next week so yeah 😭 anyways ily guys and i hope you enjoy this first chapter 🫶

Word Count: 2.8k

Masterlist • Unsolved Series Masterlist

NEXT

Sophia Laforteza. The name brings chills to anyone who's ever heard it before.

One of the most renowned lawyers to ever set foot on this planet, and for good reason. See, Laforteza was a part of one of the biggest law firms in New York, Katskon inc., known both famous and infamous for the cases they have and yet to have handled. Lawyers and aspiring attorneys from all across the nation climb mountains just to apply for a spot at Katskon. So it came as no surprise that Sophia Laforteza, a girl that came from a (in both senses) rich background of legal education, was able to secure a job at the company.

Most people assumed it was money or nepotism that got her where she is now. But in truth, it was her hard work, dedication, and passion for the field that moved her up the ranks—and that was clear in her performance. Sophia had worked on numerous lawsuits for multimillion-dollar companies and had never once failed a case. She was just that good.

And it wasn't just her success that got people talking—it was the way she carried herself. If she wanted something done, she’d use every ounce of power to make it happen. She was demanding, cunning, a bit overwhelming at times, but that’s what made her a strong leader. If she needed something, it was done before she’d have to lift a finger. But like in most situations, there was always some dirt that got under the nails. And Sophia’s dirt went by the name Megan Skiendiel.

Unlike Sophia, Megan came from practically nowhere, having no name or legacy to carry on. She was simply just a girl fascinated by the law. At an early age, the girl started reading a multitude of books about legal analysis and different court cases in history (Her dyslexia, for some reason, turned off when she read those specific books. She did have a hard time with Dr.Suess’s Green Eggs and Ham.)

While kids asked their parents for ponies or action figures, Megan asked for a pinboard and red string so she could connect dots to old unsolved cases. Her parents always said that Megan would grow up to be a lawyer and Megan proved them correct, as she was able to graduate early from high school with her remarkable grades and got accepted into Harvard Law at just 17. She was a prodigy among the eyes of her peers, so when she walked into Katskon, she had the realization that she had finally met her match.

The first time Sophia and Megan met was during the internship program Katskon held for graduating college students. The two were assigned to help with an ongoing case of a company threatening their rivals to sue for alleged damages, something standard for the two bright minds. But if you were to ask a witness, they would tell you that the two girls were not able to work together throughout the whole case. Though they were the first among the rest of the interns to find and give the information needed to close the case, the bickering and arguing that occurred made it the whole ordeal difficult.

Fortunately, it also showed their ambition for their work, and they were practically hired on the spot. On the condition that the two would get along. From then on, they were friendly. Bitter at times, but it wasn't like they were smashing glass on each other's heads. It became a rivalry—friendly competition between co-workers.

This friendly rivalry has lasted up to the present day, as they sit in their respective offices across from each other, filling out paperwork and checking emails. It had been slow for the last few days: a few vanilla lawsuits here and there all coming out to misunderstandings or unpaid bills. Nothing anyone really wants to take care of because of the boringness of it all.

Megan groans as she clicks through emails, expecting something exciting to come along only to be met with scheduled meetings and a company potluck happening at the end of the month. She groans and puts her head down, suddenly feeling like she wants to sink into a hole forever.

Meanwhile, in the office adjacent, Sophia finishes a phone call, sealing a deal with one of her newer clients while signing some documents on a recent court case she handled the other day.

“Yes, Mr. Gonzalez, and thank you again. I trust that our partnership with your company can only go smoother from here… mhm, goodbye now!” The cheery voice she lets out on call is quickly contradicted by the annoyed and tired face she puts on after hanging up. She drops her pen on her table as she finishes signing her name on the last of the messy papers scattered on her desk. She sits down on her office chair and takes 3 deep breaths, an attempt to get rid of the growing migraine in her head. Just as she was about to succumb to death, a knock on her door interrupts her and she looks up to see her fellow coworker, Lara Raj.

Like Sophia, Lara came from a wealthy family and an even wealthier family name, having a lineage of famous attorneys that worked in the same building they were standing in. She’s also Sophia’s best friend, so when the girl had gotten accepted into Katskon, they became an unstoppable duo.

“Don’t mean to interrupt your brooding but uhm… There’s a little surprise meeting going on. Something big this time so don't get too excited.”

“Why would I get excited over a meeting?” Sophia was actually exhilarated. She had been stuck filing through paperwork for too long, it was time for some kind of change.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon then, thanks Lara.” They give each other a warm smile before Lara walks off to Megan’s office to wake her up for the same reason. The Tamil woman stands in front of Megan’s desk waiting for the girl to lift her head up. After 2 minutes, she grew impatient and knocked hard on the mahogany table.

“Hey—what, I-I’m up…” She says, jolting awake and her chair rolling back a bit.

“Good, cause there’s a meeting and you’re in trouble.”

“What? Okay, I swear to god, that wasn’t me who stole the wooden stirrers in the breaker room… Maybe it was but god forbid a girl be bored and making little stick figures of—"

“What the hell are you talking about? Y’know what, never mind, just meet us in boardroom 3. Important meeting apparently.” Lara says before walking off to the affirmation boardroom. Megan sighs in her seat, looking up at Sophia who had just finished putting her paperwork in a neat manila folder. She slips in her desks before turning off the lights and walking out. Megan couldn't help but stare the whole time. Yes, she disliked the girl but anyone could see that she was gorgeous. Not just her appearance but her demeanor and they was she presented herself was full of class. As the two walked out their offices at the same time they shared eye contact and gave a polite smile.

“Skiendiel.”

“Laforteza.”

“I’m assuming you’re—”

“Yeah, the meeting… Uh, you don't happen to know what it’s about?” She asks as they both walk in the same direction. Sophia just gives her a nod and Megan nods back. The rest of the walk is awkward, to say the least. Something unspoken between the two followed their footsteps, like something big was about to come up but neither of them knew what. They eventually made it to the board room where their peers had all gathered, including a mysterious woman standing next to Katskon’s Managing Partner (and their boss) Matt Murdock.

“Murdock’s here, it has to be serious.” Megan says, opening the door for Sophia. The Filipina nods in agreement and walks in, Megan following after. The two take a seat on opposite sides of the long glass table. Matt looks at the two before clasping his hands together to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, I’ve got some news for you all. Ms.Gabriela of Gabriela enterprises has agreed to work with our Law firm with a case. I’ll let her explain in further detail while I start the presentation.” The room gives light claps to the happy news. Gabriela’s fashion empire had been one of the top performing brands of New York, and every law firm wanted a piece. The company had undergone many controversies from NYFW malfunctions to animal cruelty allegations, which, of course, always turned out to be false and ruses in rivalry companies' schemes to take down the empire. Katskon has had a taste of the company before back in a lawsuit against another fashion empire, Gnarly and Co., where the opposing company had alleged evidence that Gabriela was embezzling funds from the state that was supposed to go to them. This case, however, never got taken to court, as no solid evidence came to play… Until now.

“Thank you Mr.Murdock. First, I would like to say how much of an honor it is for me to be working with such bright—yet young—minds. I have full faith in all of you that you’d help me out here. Now, as many people know, I will be going into retirement next year. Building up the empire into what it is now has been the best 17 years of my life. But recently, something has been… brought to my attention.”

Everyone leaned in close as the lights turned on and the projector showcased the first slide of the presentation. On screen, it showed five pictures of employees that worked for Gabriela. It had their basic information like age, sex, and the department they worked in.

“That someone in my company will need to succeed me when I leave. These five have been my highest performing throughout their time with me and I trust that one of them will be able to fill in my very tall shoes.” People give light giggles at her hearty joke before it switches to another slide. On screen it showed, what seemed like, hidden footage of people surrounding documents. On the left side were a scanned image of one of them, a quick glance showed that it was from Gnarly and Co., threatening to file a lawsuit.

“However, while looking for a successor, I was met with this lovely piece of paper, telling me that someone out of the bunch that I chose has been embezzling money for our company. However, it didn't give any details on who.” The slide switches again to two scanned documents, one of the previous images and the other similar to the first, yet the year on paper was different.

“You may have remembered the lawsuit they filed against back in 2014 for the same reason. Only this time, they have evidence. And This is where you come into play.” The presentation goes back to the pictures of each of the five employees, yet now the images seem eerie with the new information. Gabriela looks across the room to everyone sitting down.

“I’d like you guys to help me find out if the information given was true and bring my company back to justice. It really breaks my heart hearing how people I have trusted stab me in the back in the name of greater good, especially so close to my retirement.” She pretends to wipe a fake tear off her cheek as she sits down at the end of the table. The attorneys look around the room, unsure what to say to fill in the awkward silence. Matt comes up next to Ms.Gabriela, setting his walking stick against the table.

“Now, Ms.Gabriela was going to interview you all separately to discuss who would be best suited for this case… but I told her I already had my eyes on two of your peers.” At that, everyone’s shoulders tensed up and suddenly posture mattered. They all awaited anxiously as Matt grew suspense on who were the two picked.

“Laforteza, Skiendiel, I trust you two would handle this very well and accordingly.” The two girls stand up at their names being called. They look at their boss before looking at each other, taking a unison breath in and out.

“Yes, sir,” Sophia says, locking eyes with Megan. “We’ll gladly work with Ms. Gabriela on this case.”

Megan nods silently in agreement.

Matt picks up a red folder from a drawer and hands Gabriela back her laptop. He slides the folder across the table toward the two. Both reach out. Their hands meet. Megan’s breath hitches—she pulls back, letting Sophia take the file.

“Good, then that’s settled. Everyone else can head back to their respective offices until needed. Don’t worry you all will have fun with this soon, for now we’ll start off easy with these two.” Murmurs of “Thank you” and “Really? That was it?” fill the room as everyone files out of the meeting. As Lara passes Sophia, she whispers in her ear,” Don’t bite her head off.”

“I’ll try…” She says before walking over to the end of the table, Megan mirrors her movements. Once everyone leaves, Gabriela give the two a kind look.

“Thank you, young ladies. I truly do appreciate it. Now in these files are the run downs of each of my employees, mainly on the ones I’ve shown on the slide but also of some minor employees I’ve had my eyes on. Look a little further and you’ll find the financial details of my company dating all the way back to 2008. I trust you guys could organize everything else from there.”

Just as Sophia opened her mouth to speak her gratitude, Megan beat her to it.

“Thank you, Ms.Gabriela, I promise that we'll sort things out to give your company justice.” The older woman smiled at her and relaxed her shoulders.

“No thank you… The both of you, I really do appreciate it. But I have to go now, I have a meeting in an hour across town so I better get moving. I left my contact information inside as well if you come up with anything.” And with that, she gathered her designer bag, slipping the computer in, and bid the two a farewell.

Just as Sophia was about to make a smart ass comment towards Megan, Matt cleared his throat to get the girl’s attention. They turn to their boss quickly as he pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“Now, I know what you guys are thinking, but I know that you both are very mature and responsible adults, and I hope that you can set your differences aside for this case. This is very important to us and to Ms.Gabriela. If something happens over a slight disagreement between you two, I won’t hesitate to let you guys go.” The words were calm, understandable. But to Megan and Sophia, they meant everything, setting a chill down their spines. They both nod in agreement and Matt smiles.

“Great. Now off you guys go, there’s another meeting happening here so I got to get the room ready for that. Like Ms.Gabriela said, report back as soon as you find something.” They nod again and turn their heels to exit out the door. The walk to the next boardroom, or the “conspiracy bunker” as some called it, was as awkward as it was before. Sophia wanting to get it out of the way (not even knowing what it was) spoke first.

“You heard him, one disagreement and it’s over.”

“...Yeah, I was there too. Dunno why you’re telling me this.” Megan says with a snap of attitude that Sophia immediately picked up. She sighed and turned to step in front of her.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. What the hell's up with you?”

“With me? I have no problems here, what’s up with you?”

Sophia scoffs, almost ready to laugh as she smiles in disbelief,” Okay, from the start, it always seems you had a problem with me. Like you’re framing me for something I didn't do with the clear knowledge that I didn't do it.”

“I have no problems with you, Laforteza. My fault for trying to prove my worth to people, you were just in my way sometimes, that’s all. Now let’s be civil already so we can get this shit outta the way.” She says pointing at the red folder in Sophia’s hands. The girl walks pasts her and enters the conspiracy chamber, leaving Sophia stunned, annoyed, and surprisingly frightened.

What the hell has she just dug herself into?