#My birthday has been forgotten in other years since

[rahabs]

I have given up entirely on my birthday this year after today.

[dvrk-moon]

ENHYPEN ; 엔하이픈

HAVING AN IDOL S/O

requested : yes!!!

genre : fluff, crack

pairing : enhypen ot7 x fem!reader

warnings : cursing, this is long asfk LOL

HEESEUNG ; 희승

so you two trained together

and you mutually liked each other while training but didn’t really talk much

you ended up leaving bighit in early 2018 and going to train at cube instead

so you lost contact

but you ended up debuting as the maknae of (g)i-dle

and since you debuted before enhypen, you were more well known than they were initially

you were one of the more famous members in the group in korea, so your face was pretty inescapable

so imagine heeseung’s reaction when he sees a birthday ad for you for the first time

mind literally blown

so he’s like looking you and your group up to see if it’s really you (it is)

and he’s like damn i gotta get in contact with her again

but he doesn’t have an opportunity because even from a friends standpoint, he didn’t really have time because he had to focus on training and eventually going through i-land

ok skip forward and he’s debuted yay!!!!!

so you had a promotion period that’d lined up around a year and a half later where you made a duo debut with your member shuhua while enha was promoting manifesto

and heeseung saw you backstage once

between him seeing you for the first time up until that point he’d literally been trying to find out how to talk to you again

and this was his opportunity!

so before you went to perform heeseung approached you randomly

and lowkey you’d forgotten about heeseung until you saw him again lol

and you’re like oh hey… so awkward because what do you genuinely say to someone you haven’t talked to in like four years

but when you remember that he’s the heeseung that you talked to during your trainee days (the same heeseung you had a thing for) you are more willing to talk to him

but then your conversation is cut short because you have to go perform your song

when you come back, he’s still waiting for you :((((

like that man is COMMITTED to getting to talk to you again

so then after like thirty minutes of talking (right before he has to go promote his song) he finally gets the courage to ask for your number

and you’re like shit yeah

so he texts you like every day

and during your overlapping promotions, he tries to meet up with you backstage as frequently as possible

so eventually you gain feelings for him again (and he obviously does for you) and you start hanging out

but then he goes on tour for a while

you miss him a lot

and he misses you a lot

so when he comes back, he impulsively like picked you up while hugging and you’re like um okay MARRY ME

one hangout he finally asks you out (as more than friends) and you’re so excited

so you quickly begin dating :)

dating him is definitely like dating your number one supporter

like he makes it a point to meet you backstage (even if you don’t have an overlapping promotion) and he makes you teach him your choreography

and you’re like “heeseung i can teach you this at your or my dorm” and he’s like “nope i need everyone here to know that you only teach me your dances”

you’re like “???” but don’t question it bc he’s just odd

he prefers you to go over to his dorms because of his solo room but he’s not opposed to making friends with your members even though they’re all older than him

just know if you go over to enha’s dorms though they will 100% try to be around you all the time

and don’t get heeseung wrong, he obviously wanted the members to like you, but he also wasn’t anticipating his own girlfriend being stolen from him

you almost get caught by dispatch a couple times

but dispatch fr fr catches him at MAMA

like this man was so protective of his idol image for so long and the he watched your performance and dispatch was like “WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN”

does not gaf if you’re exposed tho bc he’s like “yup that’s my girlfriend suck it she’s MINE”

JAY ; 제이

so you debuted before him

by like a year and a half, so like january 2019

you were one of the members of itzy, which was the talk of the town for quite some time

and jay was actually a huge fan of your group since he was a trainee

your group had a few hit songs in korea but jay made it seem like every song of yours (yes this includes b sides)

you’d been his bias since your teaser dropped ofc

and he made it everyone’s problem to listen to your music during practice

even during i-land there were clips of him doing the shoulder move from ‘wannabe’

but i digress

so once his debut place is secured as of i-land episode 12 he was so excited that he might have the opportunity of meeting you

but like. he had to be normal about it

so he freaked out about you respectfully

but “respectfully” to him was mentioning you as his role model and ideal type

on like every variety program possible

like damn we get it!!!!

but your and his companies thought it would be just so silly and funny if they brought you out to meet him the next time he mentioned you

and so they did exactly that!!!

he was on weekly idol and all of a sudden you came out from where the staff were filming

he actually almost fainted on the spot

and you thought it was sooo cute that he was that flattered over meeting you

so you approached him and asked him for his number

cue him almost passing out pt 2

but you end up talking quite a bit

like u come visit him quite often and he comes to visit you

and he like is literally like the perfect talking stage

so it takes like zero time for you guys to actually start dating

but when he can’t visit you he’s texting you all the time

“your stage was so good how are you real”

always buying albums for each other for support

and he’s like $$ so he buys a ton of yours (and of his if you want some)

he gets so excited when he pulls your photocard and is so happy when you pull his because he thinks it’s fate

but the one time he caught riki’s photocard in the back of your phone he swapped it out for his almost immediately

he always jokes about his bias being yuna, and so you’ve started to make a point of saying your bias is jungwon and sunghoon

and because you did that you took a picture of you and jungwon once to send to him like “proof that my bias is jungwon”

that pic became his lock screen btw

you one time said that you were an enhypen fan and midzy and engene were freaking out

they were like “just date already smh”

little did they know that you already were!

JAKE ; 제이크

you were a year and a half their junior

and you debuted in kep1er

so the time that they were promoting blessed cursed you were promoting wa da da

and like you’d just debuted too

so you had just done a stage and were on your way to your groups van to go back to the dorms

and you go to enter the first black van you see with an open door

and instead of your members you’re met with jake sunghoon sunoo!

you turned red immediately and ran in the other direction to actually find your van where yujin, yeseo, chaehyun, and hiyyih were waiting for you

you told your members and they thought it was so funny

but jokes on them

because the very next week, jake had accidentally walked into your waiting room at mcountdown

who’s laughing now!!! (you are)

after the incident, he found you and came to apologize for walking in

and you were like “ohhh that’s so funny because i actually was the one who came into your van last week!”

but after the apologies were exchanged, you two ended up walking around backstage anyways and just talking about anything and everything

after you and your members had to go perform, jake just waited for you backstage

and once you were done performing you came back and talked to him more ! yay !

but then soon enha had to go on to perform b-c and by the time he came back, your group had already left :’(

it’s okay though because you left your phone number on a post-it that said “FOR JAKE” in their waiting room

enhypen teased him so hard but he was like whatever at least i got her number

so he texted you like almost immediately

soon after, you two texted like all the time and started meeting backstage whenever it was possible

jake asked you out for the first time right before you went on stage to perform and obviously you said yes

but when you went to perform, your voice was such a bright red color that it went viral amongst kep1ians (and later other fandoms)

after that stage, jake and you just sat and talked in the kep1er waiting room for sooooo long

he’s literally the biggest fan of your group

like he’s so open and genuine about how much he likes your group, and he always somehow has one of your songs on his recommendation playlists

and those songs will somehow always be sandwiched between the most beautiful love songs ever and it makes engenes go 🤨🤨

you also are open about being a fan of them

so basically your fans and his have already put two and two together very quickly

but the suspicions were confirmed when he posted a late-night river view picture on weverse and then you posted something extremely similar a couple days later

winning the idgaf war about people finding out though

like he’s like DONTTTT CAREEEEE <3 MY GF

he actually thinks it’d be better if people knew so that no one would try anything on you because you’re taken

SUNGHOON ; 성훈

you were the seventh member of ive, also known as wonyoung’s group

and like wonyoung is your bff

she knew you found sunghoon cute from all the times you’d asked her if you could come visit her on music bank days

so she wanted to play matchmaker!

(love me not reference?!?!)

anyways

she gets “sick” once and is like “hey y/n why don’t you stand in for me?”

and you’re like “yeah sure whatever idc it’s chill”

it’s not chill

for reference, sunghoon also thought it was going to be chill, because he had no idea that you were standing in for wonyoung

little did wonyoung know, sunghoon also found you very attractive

ofc he would’ve tried to get your number through wonyoung, but he was too introverted to even think about it

so when you get there, both of your faces are pretty red, but your cheeks at least cool down by the time you’re recording

his do not 😭

he’s like sneaking looks at you and shit

he thought he was being so subtle too about it like bye 😭😭

but fans love the interactions!!!!

and they’re sooooo stoked to have jungwon sunoo and sunghoon on the radio that you host after the fact

sunghoon fucking DRESSES for the occasion too like damn

and like you made a point to be like “nice outfit”

on the outside he was like “yeah it’s whatever” but on the inside he was shitting his pants

anyways

and so you asked him for his number because you wanted “fashion tips” (you’re a liar)

so the first time he asks you out he’s like “let me style u an outfit”

and then while doing that he’s like “let’s date!”

and you’re like “well alright”

(jk u were just as stoked)

and dating him is so relieving

because you don’t have to keep the relationship (at least beyond friends) a secret

fans love the interactions

and so when you guys actually announce the relationship everyone is so hyped

like they already expected it

but still

he never misses an opportunity to talk about you on live or on a variety show

the interviewer is like “so, sunghoon, what was your favorite part of this comeback?”

he thinks for a second. then all of a sudden, “well y/n-”

like bro we get it

he just does not even care tho bc he’s so down bad

SUNOO ; 선우

okay now so remember when sunoo was a radio dj?

yeah

so you debuted in billlie, and your song, gingamingayo had just been released

and sunoo had heard it quite a few times already on his dj show

and he’s like “ok damn i get it let me look up the song”

he became a fan so quickly

like learned the choreo and everything

so the following week on the radio show he’s like “oh have you guys heard this song it’s so good actually i’m a fan of this group”

and then BOOM next week you’re on the show he radio djs for

chemistry between u guys went CRAZY

and then you filmed a tiktok together

and posted it like a week after the radio episode had gone viral

engenes and belllie’ves went crazy

you guys had already exchanged numbers at that point too

so getting to laugh about your fans freaking out was super fun to you two

you started visiting him at radio show schedules in secret after the fact

so he ends up asking you out about a month later

and ofc you say yes

so once you started dating, he would visit you at your schedules a lot

you would often pretend to be a staff member at the radio show so you could be there without raising much question

but then one time you were a “special guest” on the radio show again, and you filmed another tiktok, but this time it wasn’t like one of your group’s dance challenges

it was like a cute trend

so once you got the okay to post it, you did

this confirmed to engenes and belllie’ves that you were friends at the very least

he always finds a way to sing your songs on live

doesn’t ever sing when it’s your part though 🤨🤨🤨 it’s almost like he wants to hear your voice

one time he came to one of your fansigns “anonymously”

people found out it was him so quickly 😭

he’s so shameless about people knowing though

after that, fans basically already know you’re dating even if you don’t outright say anything

nobody actually cares though

they’re just waiting for that third y/noo tiktok 🙏

JUNGWON ; 정원

you debuted in illit, as a result of the belift survival show “r u next?”

you came in first place, just like jungwon did on i-land

so naturally, under the same sublabel, illit and enhypen passed each other quite frequently

you’ve actually interacted quite a bit with the other members

but for some reason, their leader was a bit standoffish to you

and you had absolutely no idea why he would be

you thought that maybe it was because you’d also come in first place on your respective survival show, so maybe he had one sided beef with you?

it didn’t make sense but that’s just what you assumed

actually ☝️🤓 jungwon had a big fat crush on you

and had no idea what to do about it

like he secretly supported you on r u next? and everything

so eventually, belift decides to make a variety show for illit and enha

as the first place winners, you two are paired together, along with your japanese maknaes, ni-ki and iroha

iroha and ni-ki were already acquainted, so iroha told ni-ki about how funny it was that you and jungwon were in the same group, given that jungwon hated you

and ni-ki’s like ?!

so he like goes up to jungwon and is like “she thinks you hate her bro”

he’s so embarrassed to find out that you thought he hated you

ni-ki teases him so hard about it

so eventually jungwon admits to you (off-camera) that he doesn’t hate you, and in fact he’s quite fond of you

it lifts the biggest weight off his chest when you also admit that you’re fond of him, and that he was your role model ever since you’d joined r u next?

after filming, you two exchange numbers

he’s such a baby like seriously how could you think he hated you

it doesn’t take long AT ALL for you to start dating

in fact hybe/belift encourages it because they think it’ll be good exposure for both groups

and it highkey is

in korea, you guys gain the title of “first place couple” and omgggg knetz eat that up

you’re invited on a ton of variety shows together

jungwon is sooooo so supportive and is lowkey a stan of your group

he like sends you your fancams and is like “teach me this dance pls”

when your two groups pass each other in the hallways, enha and illit always make it a point to tease you two

you guys don’t mind though because at least you have each other ☝️☝️

RIKI ; 니키

you debuted as the maknae of loona

so you’d been in the industry a few years longer than enhypen had

so riki knew of you, but you weren’t super familiar with them

but the both of you were invited onto a variety program for foreign idols

you ended up becoming more familiar with them after being paired together with riki for a couple challenges

one interaction you had made you two go completely viral after executing a twice choreography together extremely well

both bbc and belift saw this as an opportunity to make some money, so they kinda forced you and riki to get close

little did they know that’s what you both wanted anyways lol

so like you’ll have a live with him

or you’ll film a tiktok together

or you’ll post something together

etc

somewhere along the lines you two start dating in secret

namely after you two filmed a live together

and he saw one of the comments that said “y/n please do perfect idol challenge” and you started doing the perfect idol dance on live

you started giggling because you started to forget the dance because you were embarrassed and he was smiling like a fucking maniac and then he realized he really really liked you more than a friend

and so soon after he didn’t wanna waste any more time and he just confessed that he liked you

and you were like “no way me too!!!!”

(everyone could tell)

it wasn’t super in secret though

because belift/bbc had that “bffs for life” image for you two

so you could interact freely

it just took every bone in riki’s body to not grab your hand and pull you into his arms during a dance live

but then womp womp

dispatch exposes you guys like four months into the relationship

no one cares though (except delulu fans)

so when you terminate your contract with bbc for the mistreatment, engenes beg you to audition for hybe/belift because they’re afraid if you go somewhere else you won’t be able to interact freely with him anymore and they love your interactions

you end up joining ctd, which is the company of one of the post-loona acts, along with five of your ex-members

luckily ctd is a good company so they let you and riki still stay together and still have your lives

one time riki was doing a weverse live and you showed up

and fans absolutely LOVED it

ctd is an unknown company so they unexpectedly got a lot more sales with this relationship

they were like DAMN OK

anyways

you guys teach each other your choreos A LOT

like a lot

riki eats them up so bad like fans start saying he’s the seventh member of your group 😭

a/n : had to include illit in this somehow i love them they’re so cute. sorry for the lack of posts i am sooooooo fucking busy and this was in the drafts for forever

[myfictionaldreams]

~ Mafia!Stucky Mastlist⍟✪ 📚~

Hello lovely, I hope you’re having a great day. I thought it was about time I made a list dedicated to my favourite boys, so welcome to my Mafia!Stucky masterlit!I love to write in my spare time, and the fiction I create is for 18+ readers ONLY. Also, everything is character x fem!reader, and please, read the tags carefully before continuing.

Masterlists ♥ A03 ♥ Tags  ♥ Question? ♥ latest works ♥

you're mine (smut, angst, dark)

Steve loves showing off what’s his, you. What does eh do when he sees someone staring at what is his?

i need more (fluff, smut)

You’d been off all day and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Steve. He’d do anything to make you feel better so when you started begging him to help you have some release, he didn’t hold back.

ruined orgasm - kinktober (smut)

He had given you one rule: do not interrupt the meeting. So, of course you had to walk straight into the meeting that had all of America’s most noterious gangsters

steve's birthday wish (P.1) (fluff, smut, angst)

It was approaching Steve’s birthday and you had no idea what to get him. Bucky suggests just asking the Mafia boss what he would like, but would you regret your decision when you hear what Steve truly wants.

When Two Become Three (P.2) (fluff, smut)

It has been a few weeks since Steve sat back and watched your be pleasured by his best friend Bucky, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Especially, the part where Steve confessed his fantasy to have a threesome, but would you ever agree to it?

one more meeting (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

For all of the years that you had known Steve and Bucky, you had never seen them lose control of their anger. All of the murder and violence always being calculated, calm, and dangerous. But today, that all changed and for the first time in years, you were truly scared of the boys you loved.

repeat after me(fluff, smut, angst)

It wasn’t often that you had to attend a party with your boyfriends but today, you found yourself at one, filling you with anxiety and dread. How will the boys react when they find you close to a panic attack and starting to doubt their love for you?

how many?(fluff, smut)

Steve had finally found time to take you and Bucky on holiday. What he doesn’t tell you however is that today, he wanted to see just how many times he and Bucky could get you to orgasm.

i can’t lose you (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers but for years, you'd never had to experience this. Until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger?

no touching (fluff, smut, angst)

You blatantly ignored their instructions and now you had to suffer the repercussions for your actions.

i don’t care (fluff, smut)  

'The reader having a menstrual cycle, this one just a little worse than others, and Steve and Bucky worrying and helping her through it.'

the one weakness (fluff, smut, angst) 

It wasn't often you were by yourself so when you quickly go to the coffee shop, what happens when the enemy is watching and waiting nearby.

overwhelming (fluff)

It had been your birthday a few days ago and both Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party followed by intense, long nighttime activities. However as you lay in bed on Monday morning, something just didn't feel quite right.

the fun game  (fluff, smut)

Steve and Bucky had forgotten about your date, leaving you waiting for two hours in the restaurant. How will they react when you decide to play your own little game as payback and, how far can you go before they finally snap?

harder, please  (fluff, smut, angst)

Your mind was clouded with lust and pleasure, as you begged repeatedly for more from Bucky but, what happens when you get hurt in the process?

protect and forget  (fluff, smut, angst) 

Life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing, everything did not always go to plan. Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. What happens when Steve and Bucky begin to push you away as they search for the threat?

All Eyes On You  (smut)  

“Do you know what we would have done if we had turned up to that restaurant and seen you all dolled up like that? We would have bent you over the table in front of everyone and shown them exactly who you belonged to". - Steve Rogers

you belong to me  (fluff, smut, angst)

These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why is it that they thought it was ok to have their hands all over them?

dont fall asleep  (fluff, smut, angst)

It was supposed to be a normal day, but not in fate's eyes as you and Sam are hit by a drunk driver. How will Steve and Bucky react when they hear their girls been hurt?

rule number one.  (fluff, smut, angst)

It was Bucky's birthday but even a surprise party won't stop Steve and Bucky from punishing you for not looking after yourself.

Last Hope (CH. 1) (CH. 2)  (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

Before dating Steve and Bucky, your life felt like a steel cage that you couldn't escape from because of your family business. There was no happiness or hope but, what happens when the infamously heartless mafia leader, Steve Rogers, finds you alone?

our little bean  (fluff, angst)    

You stared unblinking at the Doctor who had just told you the news you couldn't quite comprehend. You were on birth control, so why is the test in his hands saying that you're pregnant?  Accidents happened but is this a happy one? (Yes it is).

the limit  (fluff, smut, angst)

Everyone has a limit, this includes Steve and Bucky. What happens in different situations where each of you felt compelled to use your safewords?

sick day (fluff)

Bucky had warned you that dancing in that rain without a coat would lead you to be ill, maybe you should have listened more to his warning.

accident’s happen (fluff, smut, angst) 

You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

everyone is breakable  (fluff, smut, angst)

Steve and Bucky were invincible in your eyes. They'd never been injured or in a situation where you thought they weren't the ones in control. That is until one day Bucky doesn't return from meeting with a client.

winter soup  (fluff, smut, angst)

There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

something new   (smut)

The mafia leader was known to be possessive and enjoy showing off his girl but what happens when he wants to do this by being intimate in front of his gang?

pegging - kinktober  (smut)

Steve had once instructed bucky how to pleasure you but what happens when you’re the one being given the instructions?

cockwarming - kinktober (smut)

You’re feeling needy and restless so Steve offers you something to suck on, much to Bucky’s amusement.

double penetration in one hole - kinktober  (smut)

You were adament to prove Steve wrong and do something you’ve never done before.

fear play - kinktober (smut, dark)

You woke up to darkness, your phone was missing and, all you could was silence echoing around the house but, you knew you weren’t alone.

role reversal - kinktober  (smut)

For once, you were the one shouting at the enemy, demanding that they leave your office. Steve and Bucky were in awe so you tried to keep up this confidence and burn off some energy with them.

Duke, Duchess and Knights  (fluff, angst)

You get so lost in the fantasy dream that when it turns into a nightmare, you're not sure what reality is when you wake up screaming.

Merry Christmas (fluff, smut)

It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

Safety Measures (Angst, Smut, Fluff)

It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.

Drabbles

The first to give their jacket when reader is cold

Mad & Sad moments

Saying the wrong thing

TikTok trend: no kissing

Who is more protective?

safe space in your new home

Halloween Costumes

[rxmqnova]

WandaNat x fem!reader request!!

Reader is the youngest and the compound and it’s our first birthday there and everyone has forgotten but not Wanda and nat and they try to make the day extra special because they couldn’t be there on our birthday since they were at a mission

Best birthday

Y/N: 18 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV Being the youngest Avenger sucks. At least that's what Y/N thinks. She just wants to help people and go on missions like all of the others, yet she's not allowed to, because she's 'too young' as all the others say.

She loves every single one of the Avengers, even though a few of them really piss her off sometimes. And especially when they use her just to do their work for them.

It's just not fair. Peter was even younger than her when he joined the Avengers and still Y/N's only good for doing the others' paper work.

With a smile on her face Y/N makes her way over to the kitchen for breakfast. It's her 18th birthday today and she was promised that once she turns 18, she'll be allowed to start going on missions.

"Morning, kiddo. I'm happy to see you. I have some work in the lab today and don't really have time to work on my mission report. Fury wants it by tonight, could you do that for me please?" Tony gets straight to the point.

"Oh. Well. It's my bir-"

"I'll pay you. I really need to have it done by tonight. Please" He cuts Y/N's sentence off, making the girl sigh.

"… Fine, I'll do it" Y/N gives up. It's definitely not how she was hoping to spend her birthday, but it still doesn't ruin her birthday mood.

"Thanks, kiddo. I'll bring it to you after breakfast" Tony says, patting Y/N's shoulder and earning a nod from the young girl.

Just like Tony said, he dropped off the papers at Y/N's room after both left the kitchen after breakfast. So she gets into work right away, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, the day hasn't contained just this one task and every time Y/N tried to ask someone to spend time with her, they just didn't have time for her…

———

Wanda and Natasha smile widely, standing in front of Y/N's room, each holding a gift wrapped in a wrapping paper for the youngest Avenger.

It might not have been the best birthday for Y/N, especially when every single Avenger that was on the compound forgot, but that's about to change now.

Both, Natasha and Wanda, returned from a mission in the middle of the night. Of course they're quite disappointed because they couldn't spend the special day with Y/N, but that doesn't stop them from making today the best day for the birthday girl.

"Good morning, Y/N/N. It's time to wake up" Wanda says softly, sitting down on the bed next to Y/N's sleeping body, Natasha sitting down on the other side.

Y/N groans in response, opening her eyes to find her two favorite redheads in front of her.

"What are you guys doing here?" A smile immediately forms on the youngest girl's face.

"Well, it was someone's birthday yesterday and because we couldn't spend it with her, we decided to celebrate the special day today" Wanda explains on which Y/N can't help but wrap her arms around both redheads, hugging them tightly.

"Alright, детка. We can cuddle later, now it's time for you to open your gifts. We have quite a busy day ahead of us" Natasha smiles, letting go of the girl and handing her the present she got her. (baby)

"You didn't have to give me anything, guys. I-"

"Hush. It's your birthday. Now open your present" Natasha shushes the younger girl, making Y/N's cheeks turn a bit red.

Y/N carefully unwraps her first present, gasping when she sees what's inside.

A while ago Tony got Y/N an old gramophone for helping him out with something and Y/N took quite an interest in it. She likes to collect old vinyl records and listening to them, so seeing Natasha got her a few old vinyl records she's been trying to get for a long time made her really happy.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Y/N squeals happily, jumping into Natasha's arms once again which makes the redhead let out a chuckle.

That's not the only thing Y/N's interested in though. Lately she's been really into photographing and making photo albums, so Wanda got her a brand new polaroid camera.

"Alright, alright. Now my present" Wanda interrupts, hoping to get some hugs from the birthday girl as well.

Just like with the first present, Y/N opens it very carefully and gasping once again.

"Oh my god, how did you know I've been wanting one of those?!" Y/N squeals, repeating her actions and jumping into Wanda's arms, hugging her tightly. "It must have cost you so much, guys. You really didn't have to give me anything"

"Okay, again. It's your birthday, so just enjoy it… Besides, it was Tony's money, so who cares" Natasha shrugs, making Y/N let out a chuckle. "But now it's time for breakfast, so follow us, birthday girl"

———

The day hasn't ended with birthday breakfast though. For lunch the redheads took Y/N to her favorite restaurant. And after a little walk around the Central park, the three ended up on a fair.

They had a lot of cotton candy, Natasha won a huge teddy bear for Y/N and they went on so many fair rides which wasn't Wanda's favorite, but what wouldn't she do for the birthday girl.

Now it's dinner time though and the redheads prepared a picnic on the roof of the compound. So now the three are sitting there, watching the sunset.

"I've never ever had a birthday picnic on the roof and we should definitely make it a tradition. It's so beautiful!" Y/N squeals, referring to the sunset and making both redheads chuckle.

"Well, I agree. We should definitely make it our tradition" Wanda agrees, receiving a huge grin from Y/N.

Silence fill the air as the three get back to watching the sun setting down, Y/N smiling and wondering how did she get so lucky to have Wanda and Natasha in her life.

"… Thank you" Y/N breaks the silence, both redheads turning their heads to look at her. "It's been the best birthday i've ever had. No one has ever done anything like this for me and I will never be able to thank you enough for this"

"Y/N/N, you don't have to thank us for anything. We've had the best time with you today and we're so happy that we could celebrate your birthday with you" Wanda smiles, pulling the younger girl in for a hug.

"I can only agree with Wanda, детка. And the day hasn't ended yet, there's still a movie night planned" Natasha smiles, receiving a hug from Y/N as well. "The sun is down now anyway, so who's ready for the movie night?" (baby)

"Me!"

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

WandaNat masterlist

Masterlist

[thewulf]

Never Let You Go || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Hiya! Can i request an angsty/fluffy aaron fic?Aaron and reader get into a fight because reader has been ignoring hotch since he forgot her birthday (its been a week after at that point) so he confronts her and they fight.... Read Rest Here

A/N: You guys have the best requests. Please keep sending them in. Hope you like a good little hurt/comfort.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

TW: Yelling, intentional hurt

It was a rainy Saturday night when your heart broke for the hundredth time under the false promises from your longtime boyfriend, Aaron. You knew what you were getting into when you got into the relationship all those years ago. You knew he worked long hours. You knew he had a son who was his, and now your, priority. You knew he would have to cancel plans, dates, anniversaries. You knew it all. What you didn’t expect was him to forget about your birthday completely. He was home, at the BAU, and worked late instead of coming home and taking you out. You had plans! But he just… forgot.

It wasn’t until you brought it up the next day, mumbling it to him with a saddened look did he recognize he had forgotten. What broke your heart was the fact that he didn’t even make up for it. He didn’t get you flowers or a gift or even apologize. He just… moved on. And you had no idea how much it bothered you until that fateful Saturday night as the rain poured down. You were angry at him. You had accepted the misses and the cancelations. What you couldn’t get over was the fact that he had forgotten it completely and didn’t even want to make it right.

When you heard the lock twist and Aaron entered your shared residence all you wanted to do was run away from him. You didn’t want to talk to him. You didn’t even want to look at him. You weren’t sure if you even wanted to be with him anymore.

When he walked into the kitchen you turned away, busying yourself with unloading the dishwasher.

“Hey baby.” He walked over to you giving you a hug from behind. Aaron wasn’t remiss to the way you tensed under his touch. How you simply mumbled something incoherent to him. It was when you pushed him away did he finally realize something was off.

“Honey, what’s up?” He asked.

Was he playing dumb? Did he really not know just how deeply he had hurt you by ignoring something you loved so much? You knew it was silly, but birthdays were your thing. You were the friend who went all out for others. You just wanted someone to celebrate you the way you had to others, especially Aaron.

You felt tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as your brain got yourself worked up. Maybe it was best to just keep quiet because you had no idea if you could hold back the waterworks. So, instead of answering him you simply walked away. Your momma always taught you it was best to not get into an argument when you were feeling emotional about the situation.

But that seemed to set him off further. You had been cold to him all week. Not greeting him like you normally did. Not leaving out his dinner like you so often would when he worked late. Yet you just couldn’t seem to care. If he didn’t care for you why should you return the favor?

He couldn’t take it anymore. So, he snapped at you. "Are you ever going to talk to me?" Aaron's voice breaks the suffocating silence in the home, the frustration evident in his tone. You were thankful Jack was sleeping over at a friend’s house now. You knew the inevitable fight was bound to happen.

You sat down on the couch, but you didn’t dare turn to face him. "What's there to talk about?" Your voice is icy, the bitterness seeping through each word.

Aaron took a step closer to you, the distance between you feeling like an icy rift he wasn’t quite used to with you. "You know exactly what we need to talk about," he retorts, his patience wearing thin. "You've been ignoring me ever since—"

"Since you forgot my birthday?" You cut him off sharply, your voice laced with resentment. "Yeah, I remember. You’re a profiler. Profile it Aaron." Venom was laced in your voice as you finally made eye contact.

His jaw clenches at the reminder, guilt gnawing at his insides. He messed up, and he knows it. And he knew he had been ignoring it. Ignoring the subtle signs, you left him. He knew how important these things were to you. And he took the cowards route of simply trying to ignore it. He knew better than to do that with you. He had been taking advantage of your kindness thinking you would simply ignore it. But you were reaching your breaking point. And he was exhausted from work. He simply knew this wasn’t about to be a good conversation.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” He offered. But the effort felt hallow.

You shook your head blinking back the tears. “You’re just saying that because I’m angry! You had no intention of making it right Aaron!” You hardly ever raised your voice yet here you were, yelling at the man who looked overly tired. He rarely brought home his work with him, but it must’ve been something about his last case that had ravaged him.

He let out a rather obvious sigh of frustration, clearly exhausted. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You bit back the harsh words you wanted to use. “I wanted you to remember! To apologize for forgetting. I want you to pretend like you give a single shit about me! You couldn’t even remember my birthday?” That was a low blow, and you knew it yet somehow you couldn’t care.

Things were bound to spiral when you saw the anger in his gaze. “I apologized! If you didn’t make such a big deal about something so small this wouldn’t even be a problem. I’m starting to see why I forgot.”

It felt like the wind was knocked out of you right then and there. Each word feeling like another dagger to your already broken heart. Physically, you recoiled as if he had hit you, your eyes were wide with disbelief. “I can’t believe you just said that.” You stood from the couch knowing you were going to run away from him. Your voice wavered just above a whisper as you spoke.

Regret washed over his face as he heard your floundering voice. He had taken it too far. Gone a step further than he needed. He crossed that invisible line that held the relationship together. “Baby… I didn’t mean it like that.” His eyes were wide as he reached for you. But you wouldn’t let him touch you, no. Not after those comments. “I’m just tired and frustrated and I just wanted to hold you tonight. I hate that we are fighting over something so stupid. But baby, I don’t know how to fix this. Tell me what I need to do.”

You shook your head rapidly frustrated beyond belief with him. “Something so stupid?” Your voice gave way to the weakness you felt in the moment, “My birthday is stupid now?”

Your words hung heavy in the air between the two of you. Aaron felt that lump form in his throat knowing he had used the wrong words yet again. It felt like he was being crushed over the weight of his mistakes now.

Before he can find the words to respond, you turn on your heel, your shoulders slumped with defeat. "I'm not so sure if there's anything left to fix," you say softly before walking away, leaving him standing alone in the wreckage of your shattered relationship in the living room of your home.

As he watches you disappear down the hallway, Aaron knows that he has lost more than just an argument. He has lost a piece of your heart, and he isn't sure if he will ever be able to win it back. But he is determined to try, no matter what it takes. Because you were worth fighting for, worth every moment of pain and heartache it would take to earn your forgiveness. And as he stood there alone in the empty room, Aaron vowed to do whatever it takes to make things right again. Even if it means confronting the darkest parts of himself and facing the harsh truth of his own shortcomings.

The silence in the house is deafening as Aaron stands outside the closed bedroom door, his heart heavy with regret. He can feel the weight of his mistakes coming own on him, each passing second only serving to deepen the ache in his chest. With a trembling hand, he reaches out and knocks softly on the door, the sound reverberating through the empty hallway. "Please," he whispers, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur. "Let me in."

There is no response from the other side, no indication that you have even heard him. But Aaron refuses to give up hope. He knows he has hurt you, but he can't bear the thought of losing you, not now, not ever. And you laid there in your bed, hurting beyond measure trying to ignore the man you loved more than life itself.

"Please, just talk to me," he pleads, his voice cracking with every emotion. "I know I screwed up, but I'm begging you, give me a chance to make it right. Please baby."

Still, there is nothing but silence from the other side of the door, and Aaron feels his heart sink even further. He presses his forehead against the cool wood, his chest constricted with the weight of his longing. You wanted to forgive him, to let him in. But you couldn’t, not yet. No matter how desperate he sounded.

"I can't do this without you," he pleads, his voice barely a whisper. "You mean everything to me, and I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. Just... please, let me in." He tries once more to get you to crack. And it worked. You’d never heard him so desperate. His voice so raw with emotion.

For what felt like an eternity, there was no response, and Aaron feared that he had lost you for good. But just as he is about to give up hope, he hears the faint sound of movement from within the room, followed by the soft click of the door unlocking. As much as you wished you knew you couldn’t ice him out completely. You had both thrown unkind words at the other

His heart leaps with hope as the door cracks open, revealing your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Aaron's breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, his heart breaking at the pain he has caused. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I never meant to hurt you. Please, let me make it right."

You hesitate for a moment, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. But then, with a resigned sigh, you step aside, silently inviting him into the room. Without a second thought, Aaron crosses the room, pulling you into his arms with a fierce, desperate longing. He holds you close, his heart overflowing with gratitude as he vows to never hurt you like he had just done.

As Aaron holds you tightly against him, he feels the weight of your sorrow pressing against his chest. He can sense the tremors wracking your body, the silent sobs that wring tears from your eyes, and it tears at his soul with a sharp, agonizing ache. "I'm not supposed to be the one who makes you cry," he whispers, his voice thick with remorse. "I'm the one who's supposed to dry your eyes, to chase away your tears, not cause them."

His words hang heavy in the air between you, a painful reminder of the mistakes he had made. He had never wanted to hurt you, never imagined that his actions could bring you to such sadness. And yet, here you are, crumbling in his arms, your heart laid bare for him to see. "I'm so sorry baby," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head as you bury your face against his chest, your tears soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, I promise."

But his assurances feel hollow, meaningless in the face of your pain. He knows that mere words are not enough to mend the wounds he has inflicted, that it will take more than empty promises to earn your forgiveness. For he had let you down so many times before. As Aaron holds you close, he knows that his actions will speak louder than any words he could offer. He will need to show you, day by day, that he is truly sorry, that he is committed to making amends and rebuilding the trust he has shattered.

He begins by being there for you in every way that he could possibly be, anticipating your needs before you even have to ask. He cooked your favorite meals, not because he wants to impress you, but because he wants to show you that he does in fact care about you. He knows you more than you knew yourself.  He listens to you, really listens, to every word you speak, hanging on to your every thought and feeling, eager to understand the depths of your sadness caused by him.

He showers you with small gestures of affection, leaving little notes around the house, reminding you of his love and devotion. He holds your hand when you walk as a reassurance that he will always be by your side, no matter what.

But most importantly, he gives you space when you need it, allowing you the time and freedom to heal at your own pace. He doesn't push you to forgive him, doesn't demand your trust before you are ready. Instead, he remains patient, steadfast in his determination to prove himself worthy of your love once more. And as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, Aaron watches with bated breath as the walls you had erected around your heart begin to crumble. He sees the flicker of hope in your eyes, the tentative smile that graces your lips more and more often. He sees you returning to the light he had let burn out.

And when you finally reach out to him with a certain uncertainty, Aaron knows that he has been given a second chance. A chance to rebuild what they had lost, stronger and more resilient than ever before. And so he takes your hand in his vowing to never let you go, to cherish you, to protect you, to love you with every fiber of his being. As you walk hand in hand into the future, Aaron knows that you have weathered the storm together. The two of you emerged on the other side, whole once more.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

Request Taglist: @spookyparadisesheep @nelliebug18 @fictionallifestuff

[comfortscripts]

The Way I Love You ¬ Coriolanus Snow

Plot - All you want is one night with Corio, the real him. Pairing - Young!Coriolanus Snow x Best Friend!Female!Reader Notes/Warnings - Corio is ooc in this, but the idea is that he is slightly hinged for her and he is aware of his redflags. Possessive? Mentions of deaths. Reader is lowkey just blind to Corio's darkness. First fic back so let's see how it goes! Word Count - 1,443

9pm

“You promised!”

“And when exactly did I promise this?”

He watched as her fists clenched the corners of her skirt, breath dripping with exasperation. Calmly watching from the comfort of his leather chair, nursing a glass of amber whilst his eyes followed the milky fabric adorning his best-friend’s figure. Almost 30 minutes of her attempting to convince him to leave his opaque penthouse.

“Last year, when you were too busy on my birthday, you promised me that I could choose whatever I wanted to do for one da-” Stilling her movements, frozen as realisation washed over her. “You sneaky fucker! Not once have you forgotten a promise between us.”

Corio wanted to laugh as her face scrunched with faux anger, but all he did was cock his eyebrow as a gentle smirk settled on his lips. “Of course, I didn’t forget. However, this little song and dance has been quite amusing.”

Resting his drink to the side, he rose to full height and reached his delicate hand out towards the girl. “I will agree, purely on the premise that nothing we do could harm either of our reputations.”

A smile brighter than freshly fallen snow crept onto her face.

“You have my word.”

1am

Corio may have noticed the ache in his legs if he didn’t have such a captivating distraction hanging from his bicep. After aimlessly strolling through the Capitol, the myriad of hues illuminating their faces as they spoke of the most mundane aspects of their adult lives to giggling at memories of their youth. Having known one another since the tender age of 10, there is little left unsaid between the pair. Perhaps only one thing.

“I’ve missed you Corio”

Shifting his head to where her figure was pressed against his side, their tandem steps slowed. Only those who understood the inner works of Coriolanus Snow could see the cogs turning behind those azure eyes. Flickering across her face, attempting to decode her words.

“Don’t be silly. We see each other constantly; your office is barely 20 steps from mine.”

 The young woman bit back a sigh. In all the years she had known Snow, he excelled in many things but struggled with matters of the heart. “No, I see Coriolanus Snow constantly. Future President of Panem, prodigy Gamemaker. I can barely remember the last time I had a conversation with the real you, Corio, before tonight.”

Stilling completely, allowing her arm to slip from the loop of his. It was a rare occurrence for the young man to be devoid of words, only having ever been rendered speechless by the very same woman only a touch away. In all truthfulness, he yearned for her presence. He longed for the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with delight when indulging in dessert, her uncanny ability to understand his thoughts, and most importantly, the way she allowed him to be himself.

He missed her too.

Perhaps it was his silence, or perhaps it was the cool air that unsettled her. Bubbles of anxiety began to rise in her stomach, fearing that she had overstepped or somehow offended the blond. “I only mean that you have sides to you. Whilst I like all of them, the one I care about most is the real you. I’m sorry, but I miss my best friend.”

“I barely know the real me anymore.”

It was truth. Being betrayed by Lucy Gray, the blood on his hands, the character he has had to play since; it was exhausting. The darkness swirling inside of him corrupting his daily thoughts, paranoia and greed clouding his mind. It was all too much to expose to her.

She embodied life, a breath of fresh air in a world torn apart by capitalism and violence. Coriolanus could never understand why she cared for him, why she befriended him. But he could never jeopardise losing her. The darker side of him wishes to lock her up in the Penthouse, so her sun only shines for him. Keep away the prying eyes of men who wish to glimpse the sweetness of her smile. But alas, he cannot. An innocent fragment of his soul forbids his darkness from tainting her, even if he must create distance to do so.

“After all that has happened, the Corio you know barely exists anymore.” Those stormy eyes refusing to meet her gaze by fixating on the gleaming silver ring adoring his finger. “If only you knew, you wouldn’t look at me the same.”

The warmth of her hand sliding into his captures his focus. “If only I knew about what happened during the games? If only I knew about Lucy Gray, and those people you killed? If only I knew how dark your soul feels? I know Corio.”

Snapping to meet her gaze, he feels as if she had knocked the air out of his lungs. How could she possibly know? Why would she be standing here with him? Was she going to hold this over him? A flurry of thoughts stormed behind his eyes, as she only tightened her hold on his large hand.

“Did you really think you could lie to me? I know you better than I know myself. When you came back from District 12, I could see behind those lies you were spewing. I saw the hurt she caused, the trauma you had witnessed, and how it broke the light inside of you.”

For the second time tonight, Coriolanus was speechless. Perhaps she didn’t know whose blood coats his hands, or the exact details of what happened those years ago, but she knew enough. And she was still standing there in front of him.

“And you still care about me?”

“I will always care about you Corio.  Now come on, I want to take you somewhere!”

And with that, she pulled him further into the night.

2:45am

Neither of them had uttered a word since their conversation.

Laid side by side on the refreshing emerald blades of grass as they look towards the stars above, only their subtle breathing filling the air. Despite the silence, the interlocked fingers expressed a thousand words.

A hitched breath broke the still atmosphere of the hilltop.

“Do you love me?”

Her words stopped his heart mid-beat.

“What? Of course, I love you. You are my best friend.” His words flow smoothly, as his thoughts run erratically to concoct the perfect lie.

The grass shuffles as she turns her head to face him. “No, do you love me like I love you?”

Corio continues staring straight towards the constellations, knowing that her alluring eyes could weaken his resolve in mere seconds.

“Because the way I love you is more than someone who loves a best friend. Almost as if you are the only person who makes my heart dizzy with joy. If you don’t love me the same way, it’s okay. Just needed to finally tell you.”

The breeze acts as a ticking clock, emphasising the lack of response from the young man and amplifying the anxiety building in the woman as she faces the stars once more.

Its almost too quiet to be heard, a whisper in the wind, but she hears it clearly. “I do love you the way you love me.”

Turning in unison to face one another, his free hand reaching to caress the toasty skin of her cheek.  Gentle strokes of his chilled fingers, drawing without destination on her skin as the blond builds the courage to speak once more.

“The way I love you terrifies me. You are the only one who brings me happiness, the only one who knows my sorrows, the only one I would sacrifice for. I obsess over you. I want to hold you and protect you. I wish to possess you. All because I love you the way you love me.”

Searching his irises for any fragment of dishonesty, her smile grows as she finds none. Inching closer to the man who has held her heart for a decade, his minty breath invading her senses.

With lips mere millimetres apart, a light whisper leaves her mouth “I’ll be yours Corio, for as long as you are mine. We can possess one another.”

As if those were the only words he ever craved, he intertwined his lips with hers. Soaking in the feeling of ecstasy as his hold on her tightens. She embraced the overwhelming sensation of complete bliss, revelling in every single second as her fingers interlock with his porcelain-locks.

Her lips fit with his so perfectly, it was clear that they were made to possess each other. And now that Panem’s king had his Queen, nothing could break him.

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Treasures of the Fraud

♡ featuring: pantalone x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been forever since you've seen your friend, and as the hero of liyue, a new interruption has arisen. you pursue it, only to find memories awaiting you. wc: 9.1k+ (D:)

♡ cw/tw: long lonnggg fic, obsession, mentions of murder, mention of suicide, mentions of blood, manipulation, toxic pantalone, mean pantalone, possessive, spanking, degradation, mild praise, fingering, thigh riding, missionary, overstim, begging, edging, comeshot, pet names (darling, slut)

notes: helloooo!! ive been slow to get stuff out college is kicking my ass rn so sorry. not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. I can't wait to have more time :) art by yion_yi on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

12 years ago 

“Come get me!” 

The boy with inky curls spiraling down his back dips through trees, ducking under low hanging branches embellished with vibrant autumn foliage. Messy blends of pink and purple melt across the slowly bleeding sun carried into the night. His silhouette resembles that of a malevolent spirit peeking behind the boughs, leaping over tangled twigs and shallow ditches. His excited screeches signal you to chase after the leading direction. You’re both screaming and laughing down the undoubtedly dangerous shortcuts. If your mother knew about the adventurous risks you were taking at 13, you’d never leave the house again. Tag is a troubling game—despite the thousands of times you’ve played with him, you regularly end up being “it”. You don’t care about losing, though; having someone to call a friend is enough.  

You turn into a clearing with columns of trees overseeing your small presence, hundreds of them. The colder night is rising, not a celestial body to shield.  In this deep blue void, the leaves seem to be aggrieved at your interruption of some secret meeting, angry and smiling faces crumpling in the whispering wind. You spin around frantically, looking for signs or laughter, but neither reveal themself. It’s quiet besides the downy linger of grass. Your shoulders are snatched back and shaken to a rattling shock. You scream, and he laughs. 

“Rahhh! Did I get you?” he jests. Your eyebrows narrow, and you push him lightly to a stumble. 

“You scared me!” 

“Hah, that’s the point. C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go.” He's scared too, swiftly grabbing your hand as you both brave the darkness back to the village. 

“We should’ve been home a while ago” you say quietly. You feel the chill in your bones and press yourself closer to him. 

“Yea.” He holds your hand tighter at the sound of a small rock bouncing down a steep hill. 

“I had fun today. Let’s do this again tomorrow.” 

“I have something to tell you.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m moving in the morning” he states. It was nonchalant, but your stomach turns a churning sickness. One you can’t understand yet, it makes you uneasy. 

“Oh. Okay, then.” It isn't okay, not in the slightest. But it had to be. Your best friend of 8 years looks at you, aiming to register the gravity of the situation. You both say nothing, but tears start to brim in your eyes in the silence. You wipe them with your arm. 

“Will you miss me?” he asks. 

“A lot.” 

“I’ll miss you too. Lots and lots.” He sways your interlocking hands. You pass by vacant homes tattered and aged by abandonment, overgrown with invading ivy. Homeless reside, caring each other to warmth from the freezing draft. You were lucky to have a home in this little forgotten sector of Liyue. It's a small, unfortunate room, with holes in the roof that drips when it rains and bags over the windows to keep the heat in. The stove never works, and you share a bed with your mother, but every birthday she makes sure to save just enough for a slice of cake with one candle. There isn’t more you could ask for. Everyone in the village suffered from poverty but they made it work, sharing crops and dairy to persevere until the next year. That’s how you met him, sitting on a rock as your mother collected rations. You perform two pebbles in your hands, mumbling sea shanties while imagining voyage on a grueling journey—he sat next to you. 

“Those aren’t dolls. They’re rocks.” 

“You’re a rock” you retorted.  

“No, I’m not.” 

“Do you want to be a rock?” 

“...That’d be kinda cool.” You gave him a pile of pebbles, and he joined the trip. 

You’re getting closer to the village, still processing who you’ll play with once he’s gone. You glance at him, he’s spaced out in a faraway stare. You crave the power to read minds. 

“Can we talk about something? I’m getting sad” you sniffle. 

“What should be talk about?” 

“What are you going to do after you move?” 

“I’m gonna be super rich” he assures, looking up at the starless sky as if a meteor would shoot across and grant his wish. “What about you?” 

“I’m going to save the world” you proclaim.  

“Cool. I hope you do.” 

“Me too.” 

You arrive at your makeshift door drawn together with scraps of wood and twisted rope for hinges. A dim candle glimmers inside, most likely your vexed mother waiting for your tardily return. He makes space for your entry, and you undo your hands for the last time. Before you go, he snatches your wrist. His eyes are foggy, cheeks an anxious tinge of pink. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but the strings in his heart are tense. His mouth shapes to say something, but nothing returns. 

“Yeah?” 

“...I... I’ll really miss you a lot” he whispers with a lump in his throat.  

“Then don’t forget me, okay?” 

“I won’t.” 

“You promise?” you say and raise your pinky towards him. He curls around it. “I promise.” 

“Good. By the way, you’re it now.” 

“I’ll get you back when I see you again!” he chuckles. You bid your goodbyes, unaware that it would mark the unforeseen conclusion. 

Leaves crunch under your feet as you make your leisurely traverse to Liyue Harbor. It’s just before sunrise and you finished helping the elderly in Qingce Village carry copious amounts of heavy produce to their homes. The thankful candies from seniors' jingle in your pocket as you stretch your weary arms. Your mom offered to cook, but you're determined to locate the best commissions Katheryne had before afternoon. “Maybe I’ll pick up some rice buns” you think out loud at the rumble of your growing appetite. You still had a long way to go before you got to the harbor. 

This was your new normal. After your thundering battle with Ningguang and Keqing against Osial, you became an example of Liyue’s triumph. You also became more aware of Fatui tactics, wiping out their swarms with the raging fury of your pneuma and swinging vision. Days of grueling bloodshed resulted in your victory, cementing you as the lionheart of Liyue. Beat up and bruised, the only request you made after your fight was a hot meal and a place for your mom to retire. They delivered both, and you used your recent hero status to provide help to the villagers where needed, be it casual favors or ruthless assault on Fatui agents. You were neither rich nor poor, and lived off the land and kindness of the Liyue Qixing. They often suggested you focus on less mundane tasks, but to you, the most vulnerable age groups warranted priority. There was something about the lighthearted innocent squeals of children and mellow grandparents rocking in their wooden chairs that made you protective to an almost volatile extent. 

Bustling interactions of trade and commerce carry through the wind as you enter the harbor—a sound that’s brought you peace for years. The smell of food vendors has you drooling instantly. As you devour the complimentary rice bun, you feel the yank of a little hand on your skirt. You look down and a boy with brown hair searches for familiarity in your face. You recognize him, babysitting him numerous times. You kneel and pat his head, but he doesn’t react or move.  

“Hey, what’s up? Where are your parents?” you question, briefly scanning your immediate area for his family. He’s hesitant to speak, as if he can’t find the panicked words, and rushes into your arms. You hug him instinctively and let him sniffle into your shoulder. You pick him up in your grasp and raise his head with your other hand so that he’ll hopefully be open to your compassion.  

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The boy wipes his chubby tomato-red face. “Grandma is on the floor, what do I do?” You quell your rising nerves to suppress his alarm and speak calmly.  

“Where is she?” 

Speed walking towards the destination, the commotion of a small crowd surrounds a kneeling woman in the distance. She’s on her sun-spotted hands and knees, wailing for some bygone Archon. “Grandma!” he yells and jumps out of your arms. You run after him, relieved that the worst case scenario hadn’t occurred. You push through the group and get eye level with her, forehead pressed to the ground spouting religious scripture. 

“Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Wise sunken eyes wrinkled with age and torn by tragedy stick to your heart. Her feeble hands encapsulate yours, and tears stream down her cheeks. “They took my baby!” she rasps, rocking back and forth. “Who did?” you ask, and she weeps harder. “They took her memory...my baby, my daughter!” You support her weight and lift her hunched figure off the pavement. “What did they look like, ma’am?” 

“A black hood...red mask” she recalls shakily. Instantly miscellaneous chatter ensues. They whisper nervously in each other's ears, he who shall not be named steals their voices. “Fatui probably got ‘er” you hear the mumble of one. Fatui. Your blood boils at the word, and you direct your view to the shrinking man with hands in his pockets. “‘He’ got all of us” he scoffs. “Did they hurt you guys, too?” you ask, and they stare. They’re pained but accepting.  

“500,000 mora.”  

“194,000 for me.” 

They list off their debt one by one, and you’re horrified at the accumulating number. They seem to endure, however; no longer phased by the incurable tally haunting their lives. “H-how are you paying any of this?” 

“We can’t. It adds up. Interest, late payments, it always does. So, we give everything, and ‘he’ takes everything, until we have nothing left. We die poor without a possession to our name” a woman sighs. As a child, you heard of the loan sharks that purposely fed false promises to the poor, and once they were reeled in, charged insurmountable payments to blackmail—it was the origin story of most people in your birthplace. Your soul aches for them, but is there anything you can do? 

“...I’ll help you, all of you. I’m sure I can-” 

Ningguang arrives. She's a nurturing figure to you, the kind that asks if you’ve been eating well and politely scolds you.  “What happened?” You lead the tired elder to the Jade Chamber, and she tells her story through choked sobs. You didn’t expect Keqing to already be there, arms folded and turned away from the situation. Ningguang can barely glance at the woman. 

“They stormed my home and took my jewelry and belongings. They took the pendant my daughter gave me; it had her face in it. Archons give me strength, my baby! I can’t afford it; I have nothing!” she quakes. You rub her back and Ningguang nods, listening—you can’t help but notice the anxiety blooming on her abstracted face. They take her through the process and once she leaves, Ningguang and Keqing look at each other with a silent understanding. The room is eerily quiet, and Ningguang paces back and forth in front of the intel wall contemplating an uncertain danger. You fumble with your thumbs. 

“What are we going to do about this?” you wonder. Keqing clears her throat loudly, attracting the attention of Ningguang. She looks at you, and sighs deeply. “We already know about this issue.” 

Your ears perk up. “Great, so how can I help?” 

“By doing nothing, (Y/N)” Keqing says. 

“...What?” 

“I have eyes everywhere; I’ve known for a long time. The Fatui are not people to be taken lightly, especially the harbingers. A few of their skirmishers were caught trading exotic goods and taxing medicine at high prices, on top of extorting the impoverished regions.” Ningguang points to one of the many Fatui exclusive headquarters on the wall. “Pantalone is the richest man in Teyvat, he has more political influence than anyone can imagine, and they answer to him. We can’t risk getting involved with this. They’ve brought this upon themselves, and unfortunately, they must deal with the consequences.” 

You can’t accept this response. How can they just desert them? It doesn’t comprehend in your naïvity—you scold yourself for not spotting the signs sooner, furrowing your brows and looking at them with distaste. “I expected this. You shouldn’t have said anything” Keqing chides. “...Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped before-” 

“You’re the last person I wanted to know about this” Ningguang interrupts. Your anger feels misplaced, and you bite your lip in restraint. She sits next to you and offers fleeting comfort with a graceful hand on yours. “You’re quite the reactionary type. In due time, this will be sorted. But right now, I need you to calm down, and trust me.” It sounds desperate, you know you shouldn’t go looking for answers, but a snagging thread pulls at the back of your consciousness, all too convincing. You bounce your leg. “You should want revenge just as much as me. Where we came from, where they end up, it isn’t fair.”  

“You know I do, more than anything. But we must handle this with care, before too many people get hurt. I’m doing this for the betterment of Liyue as a whole. It’s not easy to make these decisions.” 

“We can’t just go around serving justice, there’s laws we have to act with” Keqing adds. You don’t reply and stand up abruptly to leave. The worried Tianquan grabs your wrist one last time. “Promise me you won’t make a mistake, (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you” she pleads. 

“I promise. Thank you.” You flash a half genuine smile, already planning to rebel against her wishes. 

Who exactly is ‘he’—Pantalone. You don’t even know where to start looking. Too many headquarters, infinite possibilities. The best way you have to find him is through Fatui agents.  

You start taking up odd jobs late in the evening, scouring for the possibility that a fatui agent might fall into your hands. Though you considered playing the part of an impoverished villager taking out a loan at Northland Bank, it didn’t guarantee that you’d meet Pantalone in the flesh—it’s more likely that would raise unnecessary suspicion in the process. It’s awkward at first, seeing the hero of Liyue fish on the dock for petty change throughout the night. As you do, the malicious fire in your eyes burns bright at the occasional voice in chill silence. Your vision glows as you toss the hunting knife between your nimble digits. Listening closely to conversations, hoping that one might be unguarded enough to slip up, but nothing of the sort appears—not even the boldness of Fatui skirmishers enables them to divulge secrets under the baleful existence of Celestia.  

The moon illuminates sweetly on the tranquil waters lulling you to drowse. You hadn’t heard much since the start of your escapade. A fishing pole is weak in your resistless hold, and you’ve evidently given up on the idea of portraying the hardworking fisherman tonight. You vowed to help the people of Liyue, but justice was seemingly unfeasible. Maybe a direct approach? Should I ambush their headquarters? More so a suicide mission, you’d have no luck achieving that. Just as you’re about to leave, the crunch of withering grass straightens your posture. You make yourself hidden with a burst of energy and slouch behind the bushes as a Fatui pyro agent charges along the route. Through the glutted leaves obstructing your vision, you can just make out the heavy bag on his shoulder and jagged blade waiting restlessly on the other. His stride points towards Qingce Village. You hold your breath disguising yourself with the scenery and allow him to take a few feet between you before you begin following him. He’s rather shifty, those veiled eyes darting back and forth at the lightest noise. You’re careful to glide behind trees, moving with the heartbeat of the wind and taking advantage of the various melody's nature offers. You suck in a breath and duck behind a boulder a few inches too close, and his head snaps in your direction. The feeling of being watched besets him, but with no way to prove it and time running out, he secures his knife for the hypothetical ambush, and makes haste towards the target. Turning a tree, you watch as the pyro wielder knocks on the house of a small worn cottage. A short stocky man appears, shading half his body behind the door. 

“H-hello...” you hear faintly. The Fatui keeps his hand firm on the door, one boot propped under the hinge. He presents the flaming knife loosely as he towers over the man. “We’ve given you time.” You were sure now that he's working for Pantalone.  

“I don’t have it. P-please, if you could just give me some more-” He slams his fist against the wood, a resounding thump shakes the home. The man cowers. “Give me everything you have. The Regrator won’t wait any long-” 

A small rock flies past his mask, skidding on the ground until it comes to a stop. He glares in the direction of the tree you’re hiding behind. You have no plan, nothing but the distracting impulse to stop the assailant from attacking. “Stay here” he commands, and stalks towards you. His slow footsteps get increasingly louder, playful stomps toying with your obvious whereabouts. He twirls the razor-sharp knife, and as he sharply peeks around the corner, you’re nowhere to be found. “Here, kitty kitty” he taunts, spinning towards the lake, then the village grounds for footprints. He severs the air aimlessly in mirth, believing some amateur fighter came to challenge him. As he monitors the tracks under you, you drop down from the wiry branches. Legs wrap tight around his neck, and you catch hold of his hood trying to pull his mask off. He gags but he’s too quick, throwing off your steadiness as he slams your spine on the grass. He whips around to take a stab at your chest, but you roll away guarding the vital arteries. You kick him in the crotch, and he recoils giving you ample time to stand.  

You can’t feel the wet laceration dripping down your abdomen as you take a slash at his throat with your weapon, infused with elemental energy. He leans back and meets your strike. You trade blows, the strength of your smite bursting sparks of light above the scratches and bruises. Your wrist burns with the unmoving knives stumbling you. He begins to manifest blazing knives circling his figure, and you jump back from the singing cut melting the cloth. You wipe the dried blood from your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. Suddenly, red auras similar to the pyro agent surround you. One by one, the clones charge at you, and you parry their overhead onslaught. Something is different about the last clone, your vision revealing a brighter outline than the others. When the next clone attacks, as you counter you pretend to fall for his trick. With your eyes on the other, he immediately passes through the black fog to deal the killing blow. You’re quicker this time and heave a heavy tear into his chest. Crimson splatters the grass, it shatters his element and rips open the robe. You tackle him on the dirt and wrestle until you kick his weapon away. Your knee digs into his back, and he can barely breathe with his arm locked behind him and knife rigid against his neck. He ttempts to swing at you, but you wrench his arm tighter and slice into his skin just enough to draw blood. 

“Fuck. Okay!” he wheezes. “Where is Pantalone?”  

“I don’t know what you’re- shit!” You’ve lost patience long ago and twist his arm to dislocate the shoulder. He lets out a blood curdling scream thrashing in pain—you tug hard and focus him. “Shut up and answer my question. Where is Pantalone?” you demand. He hisses in pain and coughs up phlegm mixing with reddening soil. “Kill me.” 

“Just tell me and I’ll let you go.” 

“I’m a dead man, either way.” he rasps and hangs his head waiting for the execution. You grit your teeth; a drop of guilt leaves a bad taste as you thwack the pressure point on his neck that forces him unconscious. You glance at the bag he left and limp over to rummage through the contents. Useless papers crumple under stolen items, but one note catches your eye. Presumably a to-do list, you read to the bottom. A list of homes, goods on standby exchanges—at the bottom of those, a rendezvous point: 

Report back- Yilong Bank, Liyue 

You rest in a plot of prickly bushes and leave in the morning after patching yourself up. You couldn’t stop now, not when you were this close to facing him. You soothe your body from the twigs prodding you all night, and check the wound suppressed by gauze. It’s a light scar now, apparent after bathing in the warm water on the outskirts of Qingce. You contemplated telling Ningguang about what occurred, but imagining the look on her face once she knew kept you moving. 

Tucking your vision where it can’t be viewed, you take a waverider to Yilong Port into the afternoon. You concoct a half-baked scheme, one that relies on every scenario being perfect to a tee. Unreliable, but probably your only chance. The plan amounts to scaling the building and breaking in through the office window, snatching everything owned by the villagers and breaking out before anyone notices. Easy in your capabilities, but you have no idea what the building looks like, nor do you know where the office is. The man driving wears all black, an outfit that stands out from the rest of the region. He stares at you blankly, and once you’re aware, you meet eyes. His smile is uncanny, stretching across his face with an abnormal friendliness. 

“Is this your first time at the port?” he asks, finger tapping the wheel. Be it sleep deprivation or ignorance; you don’t recognize red flags in his behavior.  You smile at the courteous face. “Yeah, the weather’s beautiful out here.” 

“Mhm, hot weather up here. On vacation?” 

“Nah, I have business here.” The minuscule edge of your vision catches in the light. He homes in on the passing twinkle. You wonder why his eyes widen momentarily, and his finger starts to tap methodically, as if memorizing a coded pattern. 

“Business...what kind?” 

“Oh...I have some items to trade.” You close off your answers feeling that you’ve said too much. He subsides with a stale expression. “If you’re looking to trade, you might find luck at Yilong Bank” he utters monotonously.  

“And where is that?” You feign disinterest, but victory is too loud on your tongue. 

“Up the mountain.” The waverider halts at the harbor, and he turns his head away from you unusually cold, akin to a mechanical bot shutting down. “Welcome to Yilong Port.” 

You make yourself invisible in the crowd and wait for nightfall. People still roam the port along with Fatui monitoring the front of the bank, which gives you leeway to blend in as you find passage around the back of the mountain. It’s a steep, dark incline jutted with irregular jagged stones. The imposing size of the climb tangles knots in your stomach, and you wipe the persistent sweat on your top. In one huge leap, you latch onto a craggy indent, and begin your ascension. 

Your legs feel like jelly with each contact of the unforgiving breeze. You sway alongside the spirit of anemo and swallow your anxiety before leaping to the next rock. Shoes plant into rock and nails excavate fresh cobble on the next jump. By the time you’ve realized, you’re already up most of the mountain. You tug yourself even with the land as a barreling gust of wind goads your glance to the ground, kilometers beneath you. Your breath stills, and for a second dizziness overtakes your nerves at the thought of slipping. I could die, one mistake and I’m dead. You focus, and spring to the next piece. Without warning, rock gives way into pebbles at the weight of your foot. You nearly plunge, but anchor onto the small bump out with one hand. You’re dangling off the edge, playing with death while you fortify your body. Hyperventilation makes your heartbeat thrum incessantly and stress palpitates tired muscles; If you didn't have your vision, you would’ve fainted to your demise. You bite the bullet, push your heels in and persevere through the hurdles. The next thing you clutch is malleable in your palm. You vault over the cliff, the smell of dew is overwhelming. The back of the bank—the end goal—is visible.  

One Fatui member remains in the front. You scale up the building effortlessly, nothing compared to the hell you just went through. Shifting window to window, your eyes land on the pitch-black darkness of the room at the top of the building. An ideal glow casts on the fraction of precious gold resting on a coffee table. This has to be it. You slink through the window soundlessly, and land on the balls of your feet. Analyzing the dish, you don’t discern the pendant. You can faintly identify some bookshelves near the dish, and tiptoe further inside. You creep around luxury sofas, and squint at the embellished glass case next to the door, containing all manner of jewelry and valuable possessions. You won; this was it. You scurry to it, moving with abrupt carelessness. One more step. 

Click 

The fireplace you didn’t heed is set aflame. It flickers sneering shadows on the opposite wall and brightens the case. You pause and hope. There’s a confining silence stirring in the room, like someone is with you. The case is visible now, and so is the key to opening it. 

You fell into a trap. 

“Looks like I have a little thief on my hands.”  

A bittersweet voice in the sable, reminiscent of rich dark chocolate, rolls off the room. He steps out obscurity behind his desk and your eyes adjust, revealing the tight black turtleneck compressing his willowy torso and gloves adorned with silver rings. You can’t see the upper part of his face, but the chains of his glasses hang in front of that duping smile. You expected the Fatui harbinger to be on the stronger side, physically intimidating. It’s not physical, but you feel a certain fear boiling in your body. He’s not terrifying, but you tremble. His presence makes your hair stand and sends waves of goosebumps up your arms. You can’t find the will to move your wobbly legs. His charmed laugh rings in your ears and causes you to hold your breath. He has no vision; you shouldn’t be afraid. You could take him on easily, why can’t you fight? 

“Hello, honored hero of Liyue” the headless man taunts. It makes it worse that he knows who you are. How long had he known you were coming? Was your plan doomed from the beginning? Your feet are stuck in molasses as your fight or flight shuts down at the man before you.  

“Now, tell me. What is the little thief doing, barging into my office to take the possessions I worked so hard for? Not very heroic of you, If I may say.” There’s power in his stature—you forget how to speak. He holds his palm out to you. Tangled between his fingers, is the ornate golden pendant you’d been searching for, a woman’s face in the frame. Your eyes widen, and the sweet familiar curve of his lips stretches in amusement. 

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The plod of low-heeled boots accompanies unveiled darkness, and you can observe his entirety. Amethyst eyes drunk with an orchid hue pool into your being. Lazy curls brush against his glasses and kiss his porcelain skin. He’s beautiful, a calm enticing rip current that sweeps you with immeasurable pressure before you can pull yourself out. He leans on the desk, observing the chain halfheartedly. If you weren’t careful, you’d mistake the look on his face for genuine kindness; you’d drown, just like he craved. Nonetheless, you can’t shake the emotion his smile grants. 

“Yes. That’s all I need, and I won’t bother you again” you whisper meekly, hoping that he’d let you go with the pendant in a spur of forgiveness. The jest in his eyes says something different. 

“Come get it.”  

Come get it. Your mind begins to piece the man into a stage of your life you’d forgotten. It can’t be him. Memory tells intrusive truth in short flashes. Inky curls spiraling in front of you as you chase. He was consistently miles ahead of you. It was irrelevant how far apart you were; he’d always find you. That big, curving smile for every match he won. Purple eyes glancing back at yours; the same ones that withheld tears when you said goodbye. 

“Come get me!” 

Tears stream down your eyes for the friend you thought you’d never see again. Childhood laughter bleeds into his current cat-like conniving snicker, and you gaze at his face. 

“I... remember you” you choke. He looks up without a smile, perceiving an unexpected thought, and meets your eyes. There’s a hint of affection in the warm smile beaming on his face. “My my, (Y/N). You have quite the memory.” 

You’re motionless, full of something that catches in your lungs. This isn’t the triumph you wanted, and now that you’re face to face you feel powerless. He must’ve known the entire time. Watching you fight and work alone, sending Fatui to roam in Liyue, all done to toy with you. Your lip quivers, swelling in your already deafening heartbeat.  

“How long...” you utter. He inquires with the tilt of his head. 

“How long have you been messing with me?” Your eyes adhere to the floor, pride that won’t permit you to shed misery for Pantalone. He drinks in your resistant frame, the kind he desires to break; perhaps this game of cat and mouse isn’t done, after all. 

“This hurts me too, (Y/N). I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t so…persistent.” Your confusion spills over in shaky, weak huffs. You can’t maintain your composure, and make yourself first to oppose the authoritative man on his own territory. 

“How could you do this to anyone? We grew up poor!” You shout with balling fists. 

“It’s inefficient to dwell on the past” he replies with gentle cadence and languid grace unrepresentative of his cruel tactics. You nearly regret raising your voice. 

“These people are at their wits end and you’re taking advantage of them” you chide. He slowly paces towards you. Pantalone looks down on you from height disparity, but the royal glower pities you, judges worth you can’t see. 

“Driven by emotions, are you that simple? You presumed that if you stormed in here, and professed a touching story, that I would suddenly see the error in my methods?” You’re not sure what you’re here for anymore or why you haven’t left yet. Subconscious urges can't determine if they should slap or hug the man inching towards you. “I simply enforce contracts and exchanges. No one can be swindled by a debt accreted on their own.” 

“No one asks to be poor either” you interject. Pantalone’s a foot away from you now, analyzing your reactions to his personal entertainment. He recalls the blurry past—the pranks you pulled together that ultimately failed from your loud hurried sneakiness tripping to alert the farmers, helping out for loose change so that you’d split a snack between each other that wasn’t big enough to share, gazing at the twinkling night imagining a distant future—you changed and stayed the same, but he keeps wanting more.  

“Weigh the odds. They either die impoverished or live by passage of loans. I merely provide a service. Does that make me so cruel?” You can’t find an answer. 

“You’ll always be my friend, but I need it back. It can’t be much to forgive someone’s debt” you plead.  

“You still consider me a friend?” 

“I think…you’re hurt. And you’re trying to heal. We all are. I know I’ve dealt with a lot as I’ve gotten older and I think you have, too. Power corrupts even the best people in this world, so maybe you’re not a bad person. But you’re doing bad things, and this isn’t the right way to get better.” 

Pantalone is quiet for a few long moments. His hands web his face, but you can clearly see the pearly fangs in his open-mouthed smirk. Then he laughs—dulcet and mocking, it lingers for too long as he throws his head back and relishes the obtuse notion. He gazes with insulting compassion and stalks towards you. 

“Incredibly…. gullible. Mora is the pathway to all endeavors. Devoid of gnosis or divine knowledge, wealth has rendered me impervious to control. Suffering and destitution only manifest if I will it. I am the guise of a false god, an emblem of achievement.” It’s borderline delusional the way he regards himself, arms moving in theatric grandeur, the star of his own opera. 

“Does that make you feel good? Stepping on the backs of the community that raised you, and abandoning them because they chose not to be influenced by greed?” Pantalone towers over you. His fingers brush light against your sensitive ears, trail to your clenched jaw, and finally cup your frustrated cheeks with the cradle of a long-lost lover. 

“It does, in fact. I’m not easily swayed by ridiculous optimism, that’s why I’m at the top. You’ve devoted your blood and tears to a region that will succumb to adversity in your absence. Is that not a pointless feat?” 

“So what? That doesn’t mean we just don’t help people. You have nothing without the Fatui, you’re a pawn just like the others” you retort. He brings his lips close to the shell of your ear, and his breath hot on the untouched skin drags a tingle up your spine. 

“And what do you know about the Fatui?” he whispers. 

“I know enough. You’re all disgusting.” He huffs out his nose. 

“Disgusting isn’t the right word. I’d say...opportunists.” Pantalone backs up, sliding his hand up your chin and tilting your attention to the intense glint. “But you’re clever, I’ll give you that. If only you were clever enough to know your place.” You'd forgotten you were acting out of line. You refocus your mindset to negotiation. 

“I’ll do anything you ask for the debt. Please, just give it back.” The word “anything” evokes a malicious yearning—so forthcoming without understanding the implications of “anything”, of eternity. He caresses your cheek. 

“Anything, hm? Even if I said to give up being a hero for good? Would you still call yourself a heroic traveler if you weren’t allowed to travel or adventure as you please?” he teases. Your mouth opens to refute, but you bite your bottom lip instead. Pantalone walks back to his desk and leans while dangling the golden chain. Now that he’s far, the invading space between you two shows how insignificant you are in this luxury palace. 

“Your resolve moves me. Consider this; make an exchange with me, and I’ll guarantee not only her debt, but the debt of all residents in Liyue forgiven” Your face instantly lights up, ready to accept it without thinking. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“In exchange for regional loan forgiveness, I want you.” 

“...What?” 

“I want everything you have. It’s the fairest exchange I can make. Your obedience, your loyalty, and your body.”  

The choice turns in your frontal lobe. You can’t fathom giving yourself to a man, let alone a Fatui harbinger. It’s unbecoming of a hero to lie with the enemy. 

“Absolutely not” you assure. 

“Alright. Then allow their village to be reduced to nothing.” No, wait. “You may leave. However, if you do, you’ll cause great misfortune to that woman and her struggling family” You play into his covet so smoothly as you stand in the center of the room, reluctant to leave.  

“I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll give you 5 seconds to make a choice.” He sways the pendant in his hand like the transient time of an hourglass. 5 seconds, all you have to sign your life away. 

“4.”  

What if no one ever sees you again? What’s the point of sacrificing your happiness and freedom, are the people of Liyue truly worth it? 

“3.” 

You could threaten him, take him hostage so that a harbinger might bow to your demands. That, or they kill you, and the village suffers anyway. 

“2.” 

You think of your graying mom, the sweet boy with his chubby red face who cries over the smallest things, the grateful elders that give you candy after every good deed, Ningguang and Keqing stressing over the next financial impact. 

“1.” 

“I’ll do it.”  

Pantalone swings the chain into his palm, an undefeated smug overbearing as he sets it on the desk. There was never a point in resisting; he always got what he wanted, no matter how long it took to achieve it. He waited months—no, years—to get you in this exact moment. There’s a daunting beguiling charm in the way he closes the gap between you two. You glare at him; a temper common people would dread shooting. He assesses the pending punishment and lowers himself eye-level. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I can see the defiance in your eyes. Do you want to talk back? Go ahead, challenge me.” You don’t test this scenario and turn your head. “Don’t patronize me. Get it over with, ‘Pantalone’.” 

He quirks an eyebrow, and pliable flesh strains your teeth as your face is gripped rough by satiny leather. You’re twisted sharply to the calm expression—it humbles you. 

“That’s not how you address your superior. What should you call me?” You don’t answer promptly to his liking, and he tightens his grip. “Answer me properly, darling.” 

“...Sir.” Pantalone plants a sickly sugary kiss on your forehead, the kind that makes you forget how petrifying he can be, and lets you go.  

“Good.” He walks back to the desk and sits in the onyx chair embellished with silver jewels fit for a king. His chin rests on bridging hands. “Strip.” 

You don’t move, your heart hammers in your chest at the request and you stir uncomfortably. You have no experience with sexual gratification, let alone exposing yourself to an old friend.  

“(Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” Keen agitation in his voice serves as a final warning. He eats you with his eyes, homed in on your hands clumsily snaking the top over your head. A glimpse of the scar you received during your fight with the Fatui captures him. He takes a mental entry, for an explanation that might justify why the agent suddenly goes missing. You were generally too busy to look in the mirror or analyze your assets, and pleasure was a removed afterthought—so the hungry fervor warming your skin and permeating the room clamped your thighs shut. You’re visibly flustered and nervous fumbling with the clasps on your bra while stabilizing your anxiety, and he delights in every second of the accidental strip tease. It feels like fresh meat introduced to a savage animal, and the instant your bra omes off, a new vulnerability coils in your gut. You move to your bottoms; the sheen of sweat polishes your plush thighs to wiggle out of them. You’re left in nothing but tantalizing panties hugging you in the right places. His eyes undress and redress you, tracing up and down the perk of your nipples, tempting fullness of your thighs, each unseen curve and perfect imperfect mark on your glistening body. He lets out a deep breath to stop himself from jumping over the table and taking you right there. 

“The underwear. Take it off” he says, an undertone of lust. You shimmy the fabric off and fully expose yourself. You impulsively cover your intimate parts and avert your eyes, but you can still feel Pantalone on you, ravaging you. He doesn’t bother telling you to put your arms at your sides, your bashfulness combined with an attempt at stoicism is comical. 

“Ah, the little thief is trying to act tough. That's cute” Pantalone teases and leans back in the chair. Manspreading, he pats his thigh. “Crawl.”  

He’s hellbent on shaming the defiance out of you. It’s a vile command, but you begrudgingly drop to your hands and knees. You drag your chaffed knees on wood, balancing like a newborn fawn adjusting to its legs. It’s humiliating and downright degrading; the cold floor fails at cooling your burning fever. You’re on the verge of tears, but Pantalone can’t help but smile. You get around the desk and look up at him, waiting for the next horrible thing he’ll have you do. “Unfortunately, the stunt you pulled impeded my paperwork. Be a good thing and sit on my lap until I’m done.” A “thing”—that’s all you were now, a shiny trophy meant to be ogled at but never taken seriously, used and thrown away. You stand off your scraped raw knees and straddle his thigh, hands balancing the leg so you don’t fall. 

And Pantalone starts to work. Working as if you’re not there, filling in the spaces on his documents. For some reason, it’s more demeaning this way, you truly are just a prize. One hand dances beautiful penmanship in masterful motions on embossed paper, the other fondles and explores your being. The gloves brush down your delicate spine, nonsensical shapes drawn on your lower back that make you shiver and pool heat in places you’ve never thought of. You’ve never been touched like this, it’s needles light on your skin. They move to your stomach, pleasant circles above the pelvis that threaten to go lower. He’s careful to trail his hand up your cleavage and behind your neck, neglect your hardening nipples and repeat the process over and over. He’s painstakingly slow, savoring the dazed arch of your back, massaging your inner thighs and dragging the sleek material over your rear.

Middle and index sweep across your lips, pulling your bottom lip to reveal teeth, and prods your mouth. Pantalone’s fingers are invasive, they exploit your gums and twirl around the squishy tongue molding to his appetite. He plays with the pink mass, and it fills you like a kiss. He’s everywhere and he hasn’t looked at you once. You hate it, the kind elegance and refinement of his technique that makes every calculated word and action reek of opulence. Yet, arousal pools on the surface, sticking to your labia and clouding your drowsy mind. It’s an extreme ache that doesn’t go away from cold showers or shrugging off like you usually would. You can’t remember what you did today, yesterday, or the day before that. The sensation of him consumes you and persists in spots he left. He smells of expensive cologne, hints of heady wood and sage. You’re lucky his fingers are in your mouth, or piteous moans would spill out of you. Flat on his thigh, the subtle jolts of his leg rub against your hypersensitive clit and set your nerves on fire. Throbbing swells in your core, and you struggle to stay stiff as your hips stutter.  

Pantalone knows exactly what he’s doing. Your labored pants sound like saintly melody while you writhe on his lap. The fabric goads your pulsing pussy, and you hang your head in embarrassment of the juices soaking your thighs and his. He’s surprised you have strength left to withstand the itch. You do your best to hover above it, trailing thick strings of slick. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t like this. Just give yourself to me” he whispers. And it’s so enticing, an invitation that might let you come if you ask. However, remnants of pride cling to your melting resolve, you can’t give in yet. He takes the fingers out and presses on your nipple, flicking the bud. You can’t hold the mewl, and he snickers.  

“So indignant for the hero of Liyue, to be on a harbingers lap, reduced to a pretty pet.” Your ears tune out the insults. The damp gloves pull and pinch your puffy nipples, then knead to soothe the pain. He does the same to the other, switching between both as he feels you squirm.  

He works on the last few pages. Piles upon piles of reports and records—they detail the deaths, or “suicides”, of clients who’d disappeared mysteriously after extended absence of payments for millions of mora, people who dared go against the Regrator. Unruly, uncooperative clients that take advantage of fair exchange, and pay the price for it. 

Your arms get tired, and you settle on him again. Pantalone starts to softly bounce his leg, enough for you to notice the friction on your clit. It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore, and start to rut your hips on his thigh. You look messy, smearing your essence on those overpriced slacks and biting back your moans. Pleasure flows in your veins, and you give up. His cock throbs nonstop, print stealing space in his pants. “Did you believe I wouldn’t catch you? You’re not sneaky enough. You’re not good enough," he taunts from the corner of his eye. You hump his leg like a desperate bunny, chasing the addictive high.  

“Nasty slut, fucking your hips on a man you barely remember.” He moves his hands to your clit and replaces the slacks with slippery leather. You grind on it harder and hold your moans. More, more, more. He coats it in the mess and finally diverts his attention to you. He teases your entrance gliding vertically on your vulva before pushing one finger in. It hurts at first, but your walls hug him eagerly, pulling it deeper. He coaxes it to take another and starts scissoring your gushy walls.  

“I’ll devour you. I’ll inscribe my name upon every surface of your physique until it adorns your lips, and I’m the only thing that remains.” Pantalone starts pumping rhythmically, tormenting, poking everywhere but your g-spot. Gloss drips down his knuckles and glazes his rings. 

“S-sir please, s’too much” you whimper, mustering up an ineffective stable voice. “Hmm? Can you hear the lewd sounds you’re making?” Loud squelches sing from him fucking your insides. Each time you try to speak, he elicits another moan. 

“M-my sto-mach hurtss” you whine. He holds your waist in place with the other hand and continues the assault. “I know, it hurts? Would you like me to alleviate the pain?” he coos. You nod fast. 

“Hold it in. You ask for permission every time you’re close, do you understand?” You don’t reply and try to angle your body to get more contact. You make the mistake of guiding yourself to your clit and earn a harsh stinging slap on your hand. “Don’t touch what’s mine” he orders. You’re frustrated and he’s doing it on purpose, it’s entirely too hot where pleasure and pain blur. “N-not yours” you stammer, and he stops. He pulls out your warmth and you whine from loss of pressure. Looking at him, there's no smile, and the irritation on his face makes your heart drop. You're really in for it. 

Without delay, your stomach flies over one of the chair arms, and you hold onto it for dear life. It presses firm on your ribs, and he slants your ass to the air. “You have courage, speaking back to me” he says. He pulls his gloves off and hurls them. They’re lovely, the silken soft hands of a man who hadn't lifted a finger through combat a day in his life. They sink into your sex, and you moan out for him. The other winds back, and you feel the palm hit brutally on your unsuspecting backside. Crack. It echoes in the room, and you almost fly forward. 

“Disrespectful.” Crack. He keeps pumping through it, and tears collect in your lashes. 

“Disobedient.” Crack. There’s blood rushing to your head, and violent smacks make your pussy flutter and ass ripple; his control won’t give you adequate touch.  

“Little.” Crack. Every time he feels you getting there, he pauses. A masochistic pleasure whirls innermost. 

“Brat.” Crack. Both cheeks are a sore fiery color and beginning to welt, but he resumes. You’re drenching his palm, sobbing from prolonged edging and Pantalone laughs. “Pfft, you’re crying? Too embarrassed to beg? Perhaps I’ll give you what you want, if you grovel hard enough, darling.” An incoherent orchestra of please’s mesh with broken moans. “Sir m’sorry. Wan’ it so bad, p-please!” you mumble. There’s no dignity on your lips, no residue of the hero you once were. Drunken ardor floods your short-circuiting brain. 

“Oh, what do you say? You want it? Is that it? I'll let you have it... but only if you say it loud and clear for me” he croons. He winds his fingers in a come-hither gesture that licks your core. 

“Please...I won’t misbehave again!” He spreads your ass apart and watches your hole pucker from lining the brink. 

“I’m not sure I want to give it to you now. It's a lot more enjoyable watching you squirm and beg.” 

“’M yours, sir. Please give it to me. I’ll be s’good, promise!” you mewl. You’re so pathetic, it’s endearing. He simpers and maneuvers impossibly fast while gyrating your clit. “How humiliating. You’ve satisfied me.” Your eyes roll back, and you dissolve in pure euphoria. There’s black dots in your vision, and it doesn’t stop as he starts torturing your overstimulated clit with the pad of his thumb. Your tears only encourage him. You jerk and spasm, but he moves where you move with insistent skill. “T-too m-” 

“Aww, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, where are your manners?” Pantalone pulls out and delivers staggering mean swats to your pussy, and you recoil. “Say thank you” he demands. 

“Thank you, sir.” He hums and picks you up in his arms. Before color can return to your numb cells, he lays you on the desk. You watch him pull his shirt up to his pecs with haste and uncover the lean skinny midsection. Unzipping his pants, he unsheathes his leaking thumping erection. Even his dick is pretty, it curves upwards and shades a starving dusty pink past the thin strip of tissue on the underside of his bulbous tip. Composure thinning, a bead of pre come runs down his tip at the sight of provocation sluicing your ass and thighs. His glasses plunge down his neck, body blushed wildly, but he doesn’t care. Pantalone slides between your labia and groans at the sound. Engulfing the tip in awaiting velvet warmth, “You’re so good for me, hm?” he sighs. You embrace him, delicious searing stretch of your walls forming to his cock. Your orgasm builds just from your body accommodating the size. He places your hands on your calves and holds them at your sides. He slips out, and in one swoop, drives into you. His heavy balls smack against your ass as he thrusts frenetically in the gooey grip he’d been waiting for, stalking and spying for. He digs crescent shapes in your waist and uses you to his abundance. The desk base creaks and grinds on abrading wood and obituaries float to the floor with overturned calligraphy ink from the unrelenting momentum. You throw your head back and indulge the carnal lust washing over you both. 

“You’ll never see anyone ever again. Fuck- you’re mine, and mine alone. You’re nothing but a come dump, your purpose is to please me, hah, until I say it’s over” his voice is unexpectedly deprived and weighty with vulgar whimpers. Pantalone eyes your neck and encapsulates it in his slender hand. He clenches tight and releases in sporadic bursts that have you seizing around him. For a split second there’s the image of you—exorbitant pearled collar wrapped around your throat, with “Pantalone” inscribed in bedazzled letters—and he loses it. He swipes your clit rapidly and feeds you deep strokes; you’ll definitely die. You speak, but it’s unintelligible rambling. 

“Use your words” he lilts, squeezing your airflow taut. “C-can I, sir, please?” 

“You’ll do it on my command.” Pantalone thrusts frenetically, you can feel him bucking, twitching and quickly approaching his climax. His hips sputter, chanting some mixture of your name and curses under his breath. “You’re so obedient for me, aren’t you? F-fuck, darling, go ahead. Come on my cock.” You permit yourself to surrender, white noise streams in and time slows as you come down his shaft. A creamy ring forms at the hilt of his slaps. You recite “thank you” through wails with the semblance of a follower at the altar of their savior. Then he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss.  

It’s sloppy and misses half your lip, but its doughy attachment mellows your blissed out head. His lips taste like the bitter excess of green tea, and you crane for a better sample. His tongue does things his fingers couldn’t, and swirls around yours in a passionate bruising waltz. Pantalone breaks away, a string of saliva when he frees himself. “Mm, coming. Gonna claim you everywhere” he whimpers. Sweat on his lustered abdomen, he pumps his tender cock before spurting thick hot ropes across your tits and stomach. He paints your vulva with the rest and plunges the tip in your entry so as to not waste the endless globs of white. He tremors inside you until soft, and when some dribbles out he fingers it back inside.  

Afterwards, Pantalone opens one of the drawers on the desk and takes out an embossed loan dismissal form. You can’t read the finer details through hazy eyesight. “It’s already signed, so don’t worry. I won’t deceive you.” He caresses your face in his normal sing-song attitude. “We depart in the morning.” You don’t have a clue where you’re going or how you’ll get there as you drift unconscious. Once you’re asleep, Pantalone shuffles in a different locked drawer. He twiddles the stunning purple geode in his hand, a crystal lined mineral you gave to him years prior. He looks at you, then the druse, and cackles. 

“Mine. Always.” 

[niningtori]

make you cry | part two: beomgyu's ending

part one | part three: hyuka's ending

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after your feelings for beomgyu are revealed, you take some time to heal from your "breakup". as for beomgyu, he's realizing just how important you are to him, but it may be too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI), fwb

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, creampie, sub!gyu, oral (f. rec), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, degradation (m. rec), if i missed anything lmk

word count: 3.4k

notes: hello again friends! am i satisfied with this? no. am i still posting it? YES. as you may know, there will be an alternate ending with hyuka as the lead. i will probably post that on my bday (the 24th). until then, i hope you enjoy this! and again.. pls don't be mean ;_; i'm still new to writing smut and this is not proofread

it’s almost been a year since the night you said goodbye to beomgyu. time has healed most things, but your rage certainly helped speed it along. throwing away old polaroids beomgyu took of the both of you, past birthday cards he wrote when he was feeling particularly sentimental, and clothes he had forgotten to take home with him most definitely aided your catharsis, even if you did it all in the midst of a rampage. do you regret it now that you’re relatively calm? maybe a little bit, but not having reminders of beomgyu around your home outweighs any sliver of regret you may or may not harbor. traces of him fade from your body first, then your mind, then your heart. you still sort of miss him, that much is clear, but when you really think about it, you’re not sure why that is. so you try not to think about it at all.

you're doing okay now, truly. it's not like you forgive him or anything, but you're not as angry as you used to be, which, you know, is better than nothing. you regret sleeping with him, regret not speaking up for yourself sooner, even regret taking his hand when he held it in front of you all those years ago, but you're starting to realize that it doesn't matter anymore. what's done is done, no use crying over it any longer. as for everything beomgyu did to you, he did it and he meant it. fuck whatever explanations he has. 

on beomgyu’s end, it's not like he hasn't tried to contact you, but that only resulted in you blocking him on every conceivable plane. he convinced one of his friends to give him his instagram login so he can see your posts, but that’s about all he has to go off of these days. from the looks of it, it seems like you’re doing pretty well on your own. your friendship with kai seems to have strengthened because you’re calling him your best friend now, and who knows if you’re fucking each other. the jealousy he feels is all-consuming. to be honest, beomgyu knows he wasn’t the best of friends towards you, even before the hooking up, but he still feels wronged somehow. he’s thought, in great detail, about how he would act if the roles were reversed, but that only makes him feel worse. because he’d forgive you. he’d be angry for a while, this much he knows, but he’d always forgive you. you are, or were, his best friend, after all. and maybe even something more, but he doesn’t want to think about that. 

he’s shown up at your apartment, too. especially while drunk. sometimes, it’s because he misses you. most times, it’s because he’s so drunk it feels like the only place that feels like home. you never open the door, though. he likes to think it’s because you’re not there, but after the fifth time, he knows better. 

-

well, it had to happen sooner or later. your town is only so big and your friend circle is so small, of course running into beomgyu was not a matter of if, but when. even still, he looks positively shocked to see you at the house party of one of kai’s friends. as soon as you lock eyes with him, you know you’re in for it. you should leave, and you really, really would, but it’s a birthday party and kai’s your designated driver. you’d make him look bad if you left so soon, so you decide the best course of action is to get drunk so your head stops hurting. after downing some drinks, you carefully avoid beomgyu and make your way to some random bedroom just to cool off. 

you’re a few drinks in, head buzzing and tongue feeling heavy. it was bitter work, but each shot had you feeling less and less suffocated by beomgyu’s presence. you wish you didn’t care as much as you do, but the feeling is still there. seeing him should spark nothing in you, but you can’t help but feel indignant. and honestly? a little sad, too. things have gotten better, but all the old feelings have been dredged up with a vengeance. 

while you’re trying not to think about him, as if on cue, beomgyu bursts through the door. 

“h-hi,” he says hesitantly. really? that’s it? hi?

“uh… hi?” you say unsurely, kind of at a loss for words.

“how are you?”

“what do you want?” you ask as if he’s a fly who won’t stop buzzing around you. he supposes, in a way, he is. 

“i-i just wanna talk to you,” he says meekly. 

“about what? there's nothing left to say,” you argue. and with that, you rise from the bed, preparing to leave.

“i’m sorry!” he exclaims, the words leaving his mouth before he can get a chance to reel them back in. “i’m just… really, really sorry.”

“i don’t care,” you say flatly, crossing your arms and not even sparing him a glance. now that stings. 

“but i’m sorry!” he repeats, just like a child. “can’t you forgive me?” 

“and what exactly are you sorry for?” you turn to look at him. “sorry for treating me like shit for years, sorry you fucked me when i told you i wasn’t interested, or sorry because i’m not there at your beck and call anymore?” his face crumbles at your unforgiving words. 

“i’m… i’m sorry for how i treated you. i know i was wrong, but i’ll never do it again if you just give me a chance.”

“no,” you reply firmly. 

“please?” he begs, teary-eyed and words unsteady.

“what exactly do you want from me?” you sigh irritatedly. “if you want things to go back to how they were before, you’re out of your fucking mind.” 

“what if i don’t want things to go back to how they were? 

“then what do you want?” you ask, genuinely curious now.

“i want you, that’s all. things don’t need to go back to how they were. i just need you.” 

“need me?” you laugh dryly. “you need me now? you only miss me because you don’t have me at your service anymore. stop wasting my fucking time.” 

“that’s not true! i miss you. i-i know i’m late, but i really miss you. i’m sorry i didn’t realize it sooner.” he looks so… pathetic like this. it’d be sad if it weren’t so goddamn vindicating. before you can come up with a response, he’s hurriedly saying his next words. 

“i-if you wanted me to learn my lesson, i’ve learned it. i promise i have. i promise i’ll never, ever take you for granted again.”

“beomgyu,” you sigh, closing your eyes and massaging your temples, “this isn’t about teaching you a lesson. this is about me not being willing to put up with you anymore.” he looks absolutely devastated by your harsh words.

“i’m begging you,” he says, voice shaking like a leaf. 

“why does it matter? what, you haven’t been able to get your dick wet? do you need pussy on tap again?” he blushes at your words. you must’ve hit a sore spot.

“so that’s it. you don’t miss me at all. you just want to take advantage of me.” you don’t know why, but your own words don’t just hurt him, but yourself. you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you can't help but feel disappointed. missing you is still all about him. what he wants, what he thinks he needs. 

“i love you,” he says. what?

“w-what?” 

“i love you,” he repeats with more vigor. "i didn’t know it then, but i know it now. i miss you so much because i love you. and i want to be with you.” this whole thing is so ridiculous, you don’t know whether to laugh in his face or beat the shit out of him, but you can’t deny the way your heart flutters (and clenches) at his words.  

“you have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say coldly. what the hell does beomgyu know about love? love is selfless, self-sacrificing. he doesn’t know a fucking thing about that. this must be a new way of trying to keep you all to himself. but it’s working.

“i know you don’t think i do, and i understand why. i just want you to give me a chance to show you that i mean it. i’ll do anything.” 

he’s annoying, no doubt, but you like how he looks when he begs. you could get used to this.

how do you say no to him when he’s begging so feverishly like this? beomgyu hasn’t begged for anything in his fucking life. he hasn’t needed to, given how easily everything has worked out for him thus far. but this new side of him sparks a new fire in you you had no idea existed. you’re struck with a sadistic new idea you will probably regret, but right now? you want to act on it.

“anything?” 

“anything,” he says so quickly you can’t help but laugh a little.

“then strip,” you command.

“w-what?” he asks, eyes blown wide in shock.

“you heard me.”

“b-but the party?” 

“whatever,” you sneer. “if you’re not going to do it, i’m leaving.” you turn to leave, but he yanks you back and looks at you with pleading eyes. 

“i’ll do it,” he says with newfound determination. you slyly lock the door and he gulps before pulling his shirt over his head. he’s been naked before you many times, but this feels different. he feels like he’s being scrutinized to a degree where he can feel your eyes boring into him. you tilt your chin up and raise your eyebrows expectantly. with shaky hands, he undoes his pants and lets them fall to the floor. he’s embarrassingly hard already, if the tent in his boxers is of any indication, which only makes you smile meanly.

“i don’t remember telling you to stop,” you say arrogantly. he gulps and finishes undressing, cock slapping comically into his stomach. he stands fully naked and feels smaller than he ever has. you push him onto the bed and he wonders what you have in store for him. 

you straddle him, still fully clothed, but hiking your dress up just a bit so he can see how soaked you are through your panties. he whines when you take one of his hardened nipples between your fingers and experimentally tweak it. 

“do you like that, beomie?”

he nods feverishly and says “like it, like it so much!” you smirk in satisfaction as you plant a searing kiss on his chest and he can’t bite back his moans. between you sucking a blooming hickey and toying with his chest, his mind is fuzzy and all he can feel is pure ecstasy.

this isn’t about him, though. and you make that clear when you move and situate your clothed pussy over his face.

“sit on my face, please, please, please. wanna taste you,” he cries. well, you won’t say no this time. 

you hold onto the headboard as he moves your ruined panties to the side and he gasps when he sees how wet you are. he whines again, showing you just how badly he wants to be in it, but all you do is lower yourself onto him. his tongue is skilled, just like it’s always been, but there’s a sense of desperation that wasn’t there before. he switches between fucking your hole with his warm tongue and sucking on your clit like a man starved. you feel your legs buckling as you reach your end, but his hands grip your soft thighs even after you finish, lapping at your pussy like a damn dog. 

“ah, too much! b-bad boy!” you exclaim. that doesn’t stop him though, and now you’re sober enough to notice how desperately he’s fucking into nothing at all. his cock, usually so pretty and pink, is now a deep red color from the lack of reprieve.

you thread one hand in his hair, just to have something to hold onto, and he groans into your pussy when you lightly tug his hair. before you can do anything more, you’re falling apart on his tongue and crying out his name. a sound he never thought in a million years he’d hear again, but what a lovely sound it is.

“sit on my cock, p-please?” he begs when you finally raise from his face. 

“you’re not in a position to be asking me for anything, beomgyu,” you say.

“please? baby, it’s aching.” you throw a look back and see he’s right. it’s beet red and leaking an ungodly amount of precum. your pussy clenches around nothing when you see how desperate he is for you.

“please? need you,” he says with tears in his eyes. 

after all this time, you’re still so fucking weak for him. you sigh as you take off your dress and his eyes widen when he watches your breasts bounce as you toss the tiny little thing somewhere behind you. 

he goes to grab them, but you slap his hands away and it’s all he can do to keep himself from kicking his feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“but why?!” he asks frustratedly. 

“bad boys don’t get to touch,” you shrug, and he’s a split second away from whining when you harshly grab the base of his cock, shutting him up once and for all. before you can lower yourself onto him, he’s cutting into your desire with his next words.

“a-are you fucking him?” he asks meekly. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s talking about kai. 

“why do you care? aren’t you the one who’s always going on and on about ‘no strings attached’?” you spit and he looks sorrier than you’ve ever seen him. to be honest, you’re not fucking kai. you’ve never seen each other that way, actually. he’s been nothing short of amazing to you, to be sure, but his lingering feelings for his ex and yours for beomgyu didn’t make for the best foundation for love. at this point, you were the best of friends. nothing more, nothing less. but beomgyu doesn’t need to know that. 

any words of complaint on his part are cut short by you sinking down on him. 

“mmh… o-oh my god,” he says hoarsely as the tip of his cock pushes through your entrance. it’s always been a tight fit, but you’ve been celibate for nearly a whole year. your muscles aren’t used to the intrusion and he can feel it. still, you continue sinking down onto him until every inch is sheathed in you and he’s touching your cervix. you can swear you feel him in your womb. his tears are falling freely now as he can feel you adjust around him, pussy clenching against your will as you try to accommodate his length and girth. 

“s-so pretty,” he says as his bleary eyes try to focus on you. you let out an airy laugh, but truthfully, you aren’t faring much better. he looks so perfect like this, sobs coming from his pretty mouth and tears spilling over his reddened cheeks. that’s all the permission you need to really start. slowly, you pull yourself up with no little effort on your part. your pussy nearly turns inside out trying to get yourself off of his length. the lewd image engraves itself in his eyes and he cries even harder. 

“l-love you, love you, love you so much,” he whines, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. his mouth is open and you think you might even see a bit of drool pooling at the corners of his lips. you don’t respond, but instead you mercilessly sink back down in one fluid motion. 

“ah!” you both cry out at the feeling. you’re so full, you can barely stand it, so you don’t. up and down, you begin bobbing on his cock with little regard for his sorry state. he grabs your hips, pulling you down and fucking up into you, not once letting you falter in your pace. his grip will leave bruises, but you’re not interested in the repercussions of your actions now as beomgyu grits his teeth and rams harder and harder into you. he’s so lost in the feeling, he no longer cares about your so-called rules as he grabs your bare tits and pops one in his mouth. he begins sucking and rubbing his tongue on it and his big, veiny hand is busy teasing the other one. 

“i- i thought i said you don’t get to touch,” you manage to choke out between gasps.

“c-can’t help it! your tits are so pretty!” he says as if it’s completely out of his control. and it really might be. beomgyu doesn’t look like he’s in control of anything at this very moment. he just didn’t realize how much he’d love the feeling. with his words of praise and the suckling of your chest, you feel yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. 

“gyu, i’m coming!” you exclaim as spasm around him. a few seconds later, and you feel his hot seed overflowing from your insides. after a couple of more sloppy thrusts, you’re collapsing on top of him and panting heavily.

“so good, so perfect,” he whispers before pulling out. what you don’t expect is how he flips you over onto the bed and slides himself in your aching cunt again. 

“g-gyu?!” you stutter.

“j-jus’ wanna show you how much i missed you,” he slurs, mouth agape and eyes totally glazed over. he hikes your legs up over his shoulders and pistons in and out of you at an ungodly pace. he’s so deep, you can feel hot tears spring in your eyes as you struggle to take all of him in. he leans over and shoves his tongue in your accepting mouth. 

“good pussy,” he says in a daze when he parts from you. “so fucking tight. j-jus’ for me, right?” he asks, and you can hear the insecurity in his voice. you’re silent for a moment before you answer quietly.

“just for you.” he smiles as if he’s relieved and continues to fuck you into the mattress until he’s painting your insides again. he pulls out and the sinful sight of cum leaking out of your puffy hole sears his eyes. you look so beautiful like this, when you’re full of nothing but him. the thought of doing this forever, just you and him and no one else, is enough to make him feel happiness he’s never felt before.

he collapses next to you and pulls you into his warm embrace. he’s never done this before. not after sex, anyway, but he’s shown you the most vulnerable sides of him tonight. the sides you used to cry about not being able to see.

“you didn’t answer my question before,” beomgyu whispers.

“what?” you ask, still in a daze.

“are you fucking him?” you want to sit up and smack him, but he cages you in his arms. leave it to beomgyu to ruin the mood

“... no, but i just don’t see why you would care. weren’t you getting your dick wet until you couldn’t find anyone else?” 

“i wasn’t! i… i couldn’t get hard for them…” he trails off, almost hoping you didn’t hear. but you did. you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. is he serious? 

“and the only reason why i’m asking is because i just can’t stand to see you with anyone else.” for some reason, your temper flares at this. 

“yeah? well imagine how i felt for years.” he’s silent at this. how can he make up for years of making you feel like garbage? and how could you bear feeling like this for years on end? it hasn’t quite been a year for him yet, but he feels absolutely gutted. every day without you is miserable, to say the very least. and seeing you with someone else? heartbreaking.

“being together is a bad idea,” you sigh after putting some thought into it. “we’ll just fight and —” 

“we won’t fight!” he exclaims. “why would we fight? i’ll just listen to anything you say!” 

oh. you could really, really get used to this.

notes pt. 2: is it normal to never be satisfied w what u write? bc that's how i feel ;_; but whatever! it is what it is i fear. anyway, i hope u still enjoyed it!

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast

series taglist*: @gothraccoons @jaxyy219 @idontwantoeatspicy @soobsfairy444 @denleave1088 @notevenheretbh1 @fairfootedflekk @hihello-pinky @ilovesimjaeyun143 @sweetttkissess @seolis-world @midwinterblizzard @slutty-cherry @run2min

*not everyone's tag options were open, but i still put ur user in so u can see that i tried!! also, if you're an ageless blog, i'd prefer if you didn't read my works even if you're not a minor because it makes me uncomfortable. for that reason, you were not tagged. thank u friends <3

[shdo-xplosion]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 .ೃ࿐

𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨!𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 2.4k words; aphrodisiac accident, explicit smut, no reader pronouns but “pussy”, “clit” and “cunt” are used, pussy slapping, slight overstimulation, some plot, some fluff

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: first full one-shot! bakugou seemed like the right choice since his birthday just passed. manga cap colored by moi ( ᐛ )و plspls tell me what you think of my writing! i’ll really appreciate you!

𝐒𝐨 stupid.

You can’t believe you had forgotten to update such critical information—paperwork you had filled out nearly ten years ago that you simply never thought to return to, never remembered to return to.

Now your reminder has arrived (too late) and is standing in front of you with a deep frown etched into his features as he examines you from across the hospital room.

“M’sorry,” you breathe heavily, “you don’t have to stay.”

Bakugou doesn’t move aside from crossing his arms over his chest and making his quintessential mocking “tch.”

Dabbing your forehead with the wet rag you’ve been clutching for dear life, you try again. “No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Nevermind the fact that it feels like your skin is on fire, and your blood is bubbling with need.

Fucking aphrodisiac quirks. Every hero knows to beware of them despite how rare they are, but after avoiding such a quirk for years, the warning turned into more of a myth in your head, even with the waivers and emergency contacts you’ve filled out in the past—one packet while you were still at UA (in which you listed your best friend as your ‘rescue partner’) then again at your first real agency job.

“Just list me, I don’t care,” the Dynamight had waved off. “Those quirks are so fuckin’ rare you’ll probably never run into one.”

So you put your fucking boss down on the paper like an idiot, and he scribbled his messy signature like an idiot, and then you both promptly forgot about the exchange until right this moment.

“Don’t be stupid,” Bakugou huffs in front of you, finally walking to you and snatching the rag out of your hand to wet it with colder water in the sink.

It’s been a couple years since you’ve seen each other in person aside from tense, fleeting moments during missions. He’s still attractive as ever, still gives you butterflies like when you originally worked for him, like when you used to ogle him through the TV in your early teen years.

He’s in his thirties now, and though his hero costume hasn’t changed much over the years, he fills more of it out—specialty spark-proof shirt sticking to every dip and curve of muscle, gauntlets looking less humongous where they hang under impressive biceps. He slips said gauntlets off and gently sets them on the stiff hospital couch then moves back to you and places the wet rag on the back of your neck.

If you weren’t so distracted, you’d be surprised at his composure, especially since you didn’t actually leave his agency on the best of terms. There had been a… disagreement about a promotion that resulted in you packing up your desk and storming out, not caring about the bridges you would burn by doing so. To add insult to injury, you ended up at one of his best friend’s agencies working under Chargebolt.

You expect Bakugou to bring it up and get mad, scold you for making such a rash decision (like he doesn’t do the same thing), but he doesn’t. All he does is sigh and mumble, “how’d you even get in this mess, ya’ dumbass?”

It makes you laugh which makes you cramp and throb between your legs. You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to stand the small talk, though the cool water dripping down your back helps alleviate some of the heat.

“Seemed like a typical smash n’ grab,” you tell him, clenching your jaw when you feel his bare fingers graze your hairline. “Was not typical, it turns out. Guy got away with a bunch of jewelry and I got away with…”

“A need to fuck?” Bakugou snorts.

Your run your hands down your face while whining, “don’t say it like thaaaaat,” because it’s embarrassing.

“Why? That’s what it is? You got hit with a quirk that makes ya’ need dick.”

His tone is amused but it still goes right to your pussy.

“I don’t need dick,” you argue. “The effects will wear off on their own.”

“Yeah, but it’ll probably take longer.”

You watch as he bends at the waist to unlace his boots and take them off. He unbuckles his belt next, unbuttons his pants, and you’re swallowing excess saliva at the thought of what will happen next.

It’s Bakugou. Murder God Dynamight. Your old boss who you sort of fucked over. The idea of being so vulnerable with him nauseates you, but… he’s here, and he’s undressing, and he’s peering at you like he has no qualms whatsoever.

Your head is screaming at you to shoo him away, but your cunt is leaking with arousal, insides pulsing in time with your heartbeat, and you just don’t have the willpower to deny yourself the relief that he will surely grant you.

“Fine. Just know that I know this is a dumb idea.”

“You’re the one who didn’t fill out new paperwork,” he reminds while peeling off his shirt. “Take your clothes off, idiot.”

You roll your eyes but also obey without protest. “I see you’re still sweet as ever.”

All of your clothes are damp with sweat as you take them off and fling them somewhere. At this stage of a hookup, you're usually a little shy, wanting to cover yourself back up, but you’re not operating at full capacity as of now. There’s no room for shyness.

A lot of pro heroes have merchandise that goes far past t-shirts and keychains, and Dynamight is no exception. You don’t know how many “replica” dildos you’ve seen online and in sex shops, and though many of them are appealing, none come close to the real thing.

Bakugou has a fat cock, mushroom-shaped head leaking with translucent precum. A vein pops and curves up the side like a river that accentuates his girth. A gradient from pale to angry pink, it might be the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, though that could be the aphrodisiac quirk talking. His is the kind of cock you want to suck, the kind you’d happily let bully your throat open. More than that, though, you want it inside of you. You want it to make you cum.

You reach out to grab him, but Bakugou steps just out of reach with a wicked smirk on his face.

“Nuh uh,” he shakes his head. “Gotta show me that pussy first.”

Your vision tunnels from the lust that overwhelms you, and you throw yourself onto your back hastily, shamelessly spreading your legs in both display and invitation. You don’t have to see yourself to know how pathetic you look, sweating and panting, thighs already trembling as slick leaks from your hole in thick globs. You’ve never felt this kind of desperation before, and now you truly understand why heroes are warned so heavily about these quirks.

“Fuck me,” Bakugou exhales, sliding to his knees and bending forward to press his face between your legs. At first all he does is breathe in deeply. You would blush if you weren’t in such a state, but the action only turns you on more.

A tongue traces from your hole to your clit, parting your lips and gathering your arousal with each pass.

“Bakugou,” you whimper, wiggling your hips wantonly.

“Shh, lemme make you feel good,” he rumbles.

Tears pool behind your closed eyelids, and you plead with him, “wanna feel good with your cock, pleeease.”

You feel his derisive exhale more than hear it, but as he rises and gets on the bed you definitely hear the words, “greedy brat,” leave his mouth.

Your back arches like your possessed when Bakugou guides his thick cock into your hole, gummy walls sucking him in until his tip is kissing your cervix. You need to be fucked now, need him to fuck you and fill you with his cum over and over again, “please, Kat…” you sob, falling into old habits of when you considered each other friends.

“I’ve got ya’, sweetheart,” he promises, slowly thrusting. “M’right here.”

He feels so good, sliding in and out of you and making a home of your insides. You feel him in your stomach, in your chest, and your heart starts beating too fast when you lock eyes with him.

“Ready for more?” he asks.

“Yeah, yesyes, please.”

Without any further warning, Bakugou manipulates your legs so that they’re pressed to your chest, knees parallel to your ears. Your eyes roll with the new angle, spongy tissue massaged in just the right way, and when Bakugou realizes he’s hitting the right spot, he starts snapping his hips harder and faster.

You’re full-on crying now, a steady stream of tears dripping from your eyes, but you’re smiling, begging, thanking whatever god there is that Bakugou is here and taking away your pain.

Your pussy squelches with every thrust, wetness splashing between your bodies, creating a tacky mess all over thighs and pelvises.

“Feel good, baby,” he tells you, and his own eyes are cloudy, lips parted and just asking to be nipped. So you lean up as well as you can, grabbing him by the hair at the back of his head, and kiss him sloppily.

Bakugou groans, rhythm faltering as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. It feels like you can’t breathe anything but him. He’s filling every inch of you, invading every sense. He smells like gunpowder, tastes like caramel, and feels like a body of divinity.

“S’your pussy always this creamy or is it just for me?” he growls, letting go of one of your legs so he can slide a finger alongside his cock, thoroughly coating it in your juices then pulling it out to show you.

“Quirk,” you gasp. It has to be, right? You can’t be this out of your mind for Bakugou, can you?

“Oh yeah?” he starts tapping your clit with his fingers, growing a little more aggressive with each hit until he’s slapping your swollen bud.

“Just the quirk, huh? This pussy squirting ‘cause of the quirk too?” He rubs over the slick bundle rapidly, overstimulating you until your body pushes out a geyser of squirt that soaks Bakugou’s toned chest. He resumes slapping your pussy, making you jerk beneath him, and keeps up the ruthless cycle until the bedsheets are drenched and you’re babbling a confession, “it’s you, always you, wanted you for so long, Kat…”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he tells you approvingly as he starts fucking into you again.

Your walls swell around his cock, spasming with an impending orgasm. Bakugou keeps drilling into you, spewing filth right in your ear, breath hotter with every taunt.

“You wanted this cock so bad, yeah? That why you left me?”

You shake your head, jaw falling open as your climax builds.

“Wanted me to fuck your little pussy but didn’t know how to ask? Well, I am now,” he continues, “finally gonna fill you up like I’ve wanted to.”

Your breath is pushed from your lungs in a long moan when it hits you, puffy cunt gushing around Bakugou and milking his own orgasm from him, hot cum painting your insides and slowly oozing from your loosened hole.

You’ve heard that with many aphrodisiac quirks it takes more than just one sexual cycle to get it all out of your system—multiple phases of excitement, multiple plateaus, multiple orgasms, and multiple resolutions.

But sometimes one is enough. If the cycle is strong enough and your body releases enough…

“God, I feel so much better,” you say, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “Thank you.”

Bakugou pulls out and rolls onto the bed next to you, also breathing heavily. Though still hard, you know his cock is spent, slowly softening where it glistens with the mixture of fluids. He doesn’t say anything, just nods.

You figure he’ll catch his breath then get up and leave, remind you to change your emergency contact.

But after several minutes of post-orgasm bliss, he pipes up in his gruff voice, “so why did you leave like you did?”

It’s not really what you feel like talking about, but you kind of owe him. Plus, the answer is pretty simple.

“You already know. I was angry about being passed up for the promotion,” you sigh. “I thought I was doing pretty well as an intermediate sidekick, but… guess not.”

“Nah, you were doin’ great. You did well with me and all the other pros.”

You glance over at him with narrowed eyes. “Then why’d flaming pubes get the promotion?” you think back to the new sidekick bitterly.

Bakugou opens his mouth but immediately closes it again. Sits up, hunches forward, drags a hand down his face.

“Kat… why?”

“Cause I didn’t want you on crazy fucked up sites,” he tells you, voice too loud. “I’d seen you cry during rescue missions and didn’t like it, and you split your fuckin’ head open on the Dark Shot mission, and I didn’t like worrying about you!”

You stare at him in bewilderment. He was… trying to protect you?

“You would rather some freshly graduated sidekick die than me?”

“I don’t want anyone to die, but least of all you.” He heaves a shaky breath, hands shooting out like they’ll help him explain himself better. “You were a distraction for me! If I could keep you even a little bit safe, I could keep doing my job right.”

Your head is clearing. You’re still foggy from your orgasm, but at least you’re no longer sex-crazed.

“So, what are you saying exactly?”

“Dude, don’t play stupid,” he snarks, but you can see the plea in his crimson gaze: don’t make me say it.

Fighting a smile, you decide not to tease.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I was distracted the entire time I worked for you. Crushing on your boss is hard.”

A faint blush reddens his cheeks as he mutters, “yeah, so’s crushing on your god damn employee. Felt like some school boy bitch.”

“Is that why you saved me today then? Get what you used to think about all the time?” you smile.

“No. I saved you ‘cause I signed my name on a legal fucking document.”

The very beginnings of disappointment rise in your chest, but before they can fully bloom, Bakugo leans over and kisses you. Much softer than what you had initiated while in the throes of passion. His lips are gentle, moving in sync with yours. There’s no tongue, no urgency, just pure satisfaction and contentment that makes you melt.

“Getting to do that is a pretty big plus, though.”

2023 ©️ shidou-x. Please don’t plagiarize or repost my works to other platforms.

[iiotic]

｡‧What letters? ༻༉

Alastor x Fem! Reader

༉‧.tw - an opinion, mentions of toxic parents, racism, toxic relationship, bullying, death, use of Alchocol, Reader is white (sorry to all other races)

༉‧.words - 1.9k

༉‧.a/n - This is pt 1 and pt 2 of "what letters?" combined because I hated how stupid it looked in 2 parts. The is very badly written because it was one of my first works and as always I'd like to apologize for any mistakes English is not my first language.

In 1907 your parents decided to move in Louisiana, New Orleans. You were awfully scared of changing schools thinking that you won't make any friends since it's the middle of school year.

You were assigned school uniforms. Blue-ish shirt with white buttons and a black skirt just below your knees. Black tights and white boots. You quite liked it however you thought it was a little stupid that they gave you bright shirts. Of course you will get them dirty.

You soon found yourself troubled to sit with someone at lunch. Everyone seemed like they were having a good time, laughing with others and you just didn't want to interrupt them.

You also took a notice of how people sit. In what groups. Everyone was sitting with the same race as them. Just like in your old school, nothing was different here.

You usually sat alone. Until..

-"May i sit here?"- A boy your age asked. He had round black glasses and chocolate eyes. - I took notice of you sitting alone at lunch and i was wondering if i could join you?

You quickly recovered from the shook and agreed to his offer. After introducing yourself you found out that the boys name is Alastor. He told you that he had troubled sitting with anyone because he was "mixed" and that no one accepted him the way he is.

Then you realised what your parents told you. They absolutely forbidden you to talking to any other race. Your dad didn't like black people one bit. He thought that they are absolutely useless and shouldn't be accepted in any way. That they shouldn't exist.

However you weren't just going to throw away your first friend in school like that. Deciding to keep it a secret.

You learned that Alastor is actually really smart. He was the top student in his class, getting straight A's. Well except history but you were great with it so you made a deal. You would help Alastor with history and he'd help you with any other subject you had problems with.

You also met Ms. Barbara, Alastors mother. She was a sweet woman, really. She always made the best jambalaya and was really supportive of her son, always wishing the best for him. She grew a liking to you as well.

Thought you did notice the weird looks people would give you at school. You didn't mind.

After a year you developed feelings for Alastor thinking that he's sweet, clever and fun.. And he knows how to cook. But little did you know that he did too.

Then it all crashed. Your parents decided to move out of Louisiana. You questioned them why would they even wanted to move in if we were leaving now.

Absolutely devastated you went to see and say your last goodbye to Alastor. You promised him to somehow keep in touch and write a lot of letters.

It didn't work out.

Your father found out about your little friend and the letters you would write every night to update him how has your day been and that you miss him. He gave the letters to your mother so that she could burn them or hide them in the attic so that you and Alastor wouldn't have any kind of communication.

And here you were, sitting in your new room. Waiting, waiting for letters from the boy who you've developed feelings for.. Or has he already forgotten about you?

On your 29th birthday you had an accident. A car crash. You decided to drive extremely drunk after your own party. 2 people in the car with you; your best friend and your younger sister. That day 2 souls came to rest and 1 to suffer in hell.

After you woke up in not your body you absolutely freaked out. Where were you? Where is my younger sister? What time is it? I'm hungry. Were you.. Dead?

Behind your laying body stood the "Happy Hotel" where souls are suppose to get rehabilated. You had no other choice then to go there.

3 knocks could be heard across the main hall suggesting that someone is waiting behind the door. A pretty blonde woman opened the door and seemed extremely excited to see you.

She introduced herself as Charlie, the owner of the hotel and the Princess of hell. Charlie explained that you ended in hell and how things work here. You were absolutely terrified.. What did you that you ended here?

But then it hit you. Your father robbed the store multiple times and didn't get caught. You were suppose to keep it a secret and you did. You should've report it to the police.

Charlie also said that you could stay here for as long as you wish, on 1 condition; you would have to help in any way you can. A free place to stay and a nice owner? Of course you agreed instantly.

When Charlie was walking you to your new room you felt awfully uncomfortable.. Like you were watched. You're terrified at this point 'couse you just realised where you are.

Everything is happening so fast that you don't know what's even going on. But before you could realise anything a deer-like creature is standing right infront of you.

You looked up at the tall creature before you with fear in your eyes. None of you said anything. His red eyes staring at you, almost like you were his prey and he was your predator. He was smiling. Why the hell was he always smiling like nothing has ever happen?

How could you look at him the same when he had left you heartbroken like that?

How could you forgive him for everything he'd done?

How could you act like everything was fine when it wasn't?

-"Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" - The fear in your eyes slowly turning into anger and sorrow. - You promised me you'd write back to me. Then tell me why didn't i receive anything?

His eyes narrowed and his smile grew bigger. -"What letters?" - His voice sounding like an old radio. The static was ringing in yours ears, causing you a headache. -"I never received any of your letters, dear."

-"Stop lying to me, Alastor." - You quickly interrupted his sentence. -"I wrote to you everyday, hoping for a response from you. Tell me, why didn't you fulfil our promise?"

-"I would-" - He was interrupted once again. This time by the owner of the hotel. She walked up to you two with an excited face, screaming your name.

She slowed down as she saw who you were talking to. Her excited smile slowly turned into an more nervous one.

-" I see you two already met each other." - Charlie said focusing more on Alastor, hoping that he didn't do anything stupid. - "In case that he didn't introduce himself his name is Alastor. But I'm sure you've already heard of him. I just came her to say that your room is ready."

You thanked Charlie as you were truly grateful for everything she already has done for you. Without her you would probably be homeless, just waiting to get killed in the next extermination. Soon enough Charlie completely ignored Alastor, dragging you along to introduce to you everyone in the hotel.

-" So that was Niffty! We're 80% sure she's harmless. And this is the bar and the bartender" - She said pointing on an avian cat demon, absolutely screaming with excitement. But can you really blame her? You were her second true guest!

The demon behind the bar just looked at you for a second turning back around to whatever he was doing.

-"Oh! Vaggie here!!"- She said waving at a girl with long white hair with a jagged, moth-like shape to the cut, with gray-lavender stripes at the ends. Charlie quickly introduced her too. -" And this is my girlfriend, Vaggie."

Vaggie just gave you a slight smile while telling Charlie that they should talk in private. Apologising Charlie said that she was going to be right back.

So now you were left all alone in the lobby. You decided to sit on the couch to think about everything that has just happened.

"Okay so there's an afterlife and i'm not so surprisingly in hell. Im in a place filled with crazy psychos.." You pinched the bridge of your nose. Looking around at your surroundings, hoping that this is all a dream. "Some surprisingly happy woman allowed me to stay at her hotel for as long as i want to. And in this hotel there's my childhood bestfriend. Amazing."

-"Fucking amazing" - You said out loud as you heard Charlie coming back wanting to continue the tour.

｡‧₊༻

You woke up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Getting up and throwing a blanket on yourself you yelled that they should come in.

And he did.

-"What are you doing here, Alastor?"- You looked at him with anger in your eyes. "- I don't want to see you."

-" Well, dearest." - He paused thinking how he should put it in words. -" I just wanted to make few things clear beetwen us."

- "We haven't seen each others in years and here you are being mad at me because you didn't keep our little promise."

- "I didn't keep it?" - You got up from your sitting position on your bed and started to slowly walk up to him. -" I always stayed up late at night writing letters to you every-fucking-day. I thought that you would care just a little to write back to maybe I don't fucking one. Atleast one letter?"

-" As i said earlier, i didn't receive any letters."- He looked at you calmly with his signature smile -"However I'd like to know your excuse to not responding to my letters."

-"I didn't receive any letters Alastor!" - God, you were so mad at him. He truly broke your heart. You liked him.. No you lived him for such a long time. He was your first crush and now? He was just a fucking manipulator. - Why the fuck are you lying to me?

-"I'd like to discuss this matter calmly." - He said referring to you cussing him in every sentence and your unstoppable yelling. - How about I'll take you to a cafe, my treat.

After considering his offer you agreed. You really needed to know what happened between you two and if he was really lying. It was quite dumb for you to just assume he was a liar without any proof but I guess it was the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

This morning you borrowed a dress from Charlie becouse you didn't have any other clothes then the ones that you've fallen in. It was a black dress just below your knees with an sweetheart neckline. She also borrowed you her jewelry so now you're also wearing a golden necklace.

The time of day has come and Alastor knocked to your bedroom once again. This time you opened the door closing it behind, ready to go.

Alastor snapping his finger teleported both of you to a nearby cafe. Coming in and gesturing you to chose a table. After you choose one he pulled out the chair for you and took a seat before you.

-"So dear."- He looked up at you -"That dress really compliments your figure."

-"Thank you however it isn't mine. Now I'd like you to explain what happened?"

-"I don't know what you're talking about, darling. "- Oh now he is acting dumb?

-" I'll ask one last time. Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" - You asked, this time calmly. Crossing your arms.

-"and I'll say one last time. I didn't receive them."- He said looking out of the window, seeing demons suffer. -"I always thought that you didn't write them, that you've forgotten about me."

-"I'd never forget you, Alastor. You meant a lot for me."- You responded looking out of the window as well -"I couldn't imagine life without you. That's why I was truly heartbroken when i didn't ses you write back."

-"I was writing to you, so many times. In fact i always wrote to you on the end of every week." - He confessed - "For over 15 years."

-"But i didn't receive anything?"

-"Neither did i, dear"- Maybe it was the wrong address? Maybe I just didn't know how to send letters? Maybe I didn't actually send them?

-"So.. I'm sorry I'm so embarrassed right now." - You looked at your lap fidgeting with your fingers -"I should have never yelled at you like. It was very immature of me to accuse you of something you didn't do."

-"That's fine, darling"- he said looking back at you lowering his tone a bit -"Everything is fine between us?"

You looked at him with hope in your eyes. Oh how much you wanted to bring things to normal, how it was earlier when you were kids. -"Yeah everything is fine."

-"Smile my dear. You know you're never fully dressed without one!"

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Birthday Plans - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 5161>

warnings - smut near the end, nothing too hardcore

The bright sunlight streaming through the curtains of yours and Charles' bedroom window disturbed Charles, and gently ushered him awake. He turned onto his side, expecting to see you lying beside him. Much to his disappointment, you weren't there.

"Baby?" he called out, but his voice was drowned out by the silence of your apartment. That was odd, he thought, since he hadn't noticed your departure. Normally, he would feel the temperature drop beside him and the bed would shift slightly, but he hadn't even realised.

Wanting to find you, he reluctantly pulled himself out of the warm and cozy confines of your bed, and padded through your apartment to find you. As he walked through the hall, he spotted random pieces of confetti sprinkled about the floor.

That was when it dawned on him. Checking his phone, he saw what day it was. 16/10/23. He couldn't believe that he'd actually forgotten that today was his birthday, and he realised exactly where you were. He also couldn't believe that you had let him forget.

For the past three years since you had been together, you had made his birthday the biggest deal of the year, without fail. Whether it be organising the biggest party he had ever been to, fully comprised of all of the people he loved and cared about on his yacht, to a quiet day in with his family.

This year, he had asked for nothing too over the top, since he just wanted to spend the day with his favourite person in the world. "My love?" he called out again, but he didn't expect a response. The double doors through to the kitchen were closed, which was odd, since you usually left them open.

Opening them, he was greeted with the loud pop of a confetti cannon, and a shower of red confetti. "Happy birthday baby!" You shouted as he walked through the door. Charles gazed around at the balloons stuck to the walls and lying on the floor, and plenty of birthday banners plastered about the room.

"Thank you, my love," he smiled, pulling you into a hug.

Turning out of the hug, you stepped over to the kitchen table, before skipping over to Charles and placing the party hat atop his ruffled locks. "Seriously?" he asked with a cocked brow. "Obviously, the birthday boy has to wear a party hat!" you playfully scoffed, putting one on too.

"Well thank you for all of the effort, sweetheart, I appreciate it," he told you, pulling you in for a kiss. Even if he was certain you enjoyed the thoughts of his birthday more then he did, it was always made a better celebration when you were planning it.

He wasn't looking forward to the fact that he was turning a year older, he was looking forward to the bright smile on your face when you got to show him whatever you had planned. Despite him telling you over and over that you didn't have to put so much effort into it, you always ignored his protests and did it anyway.

He always put effort into making things special for you, so you thought it was only fair that you did the same for him at any given opportunity - even if he didn't allow much room for someone other than you to be spoilt.

You just enjoyed the day that you got to celebrate him, since he was always celebrating you and you were able to make him priority for this one special day.

"Would you like to know what I have planned for today?" You asked, leaving your arms linked around his neck as his stayed on your waist. "Yes I would, I want to hear what you're going to do to try and outdo yourself," he told you.

"Well then you might be a bit disappointed, it's not very flashy" you winced, knowing this year's plan wouldn't be as extravagant as those of previous years. "I don't need it to be flashy, baby. You know we could do nothing and it'd be a great use of time spent," he said.

"So, I have invited Carlos, Arthur, Pierre and Kika over for some drinks and maybe some games, y'know, fun stuff," you explained, hoping he would like the sound of it. "Now that is my kind of night," he smiled, gently kissing your forehead. 

"I'm glad you think so,"

—

"Does anyone want another drink?" You asked, hopping out of your seat and looking around at the group of people sat around you. "Y/N, I can get them, you sit," Carlos offered, but you shook your head.

"I'm already up, but thanks," you dismissed, collecting empty glasses that wanted to be filled. Charles watched intently as you were running around, playing hostess. You were making sure everyone was well taken care of, and he could see you pacing around the kitchen, making sure everyone got the drink they wanted.

He was mesmerised by the way your dress clung to you in all of the perfect places and he was infatuated by the way you moved. You brought through the numerous different drinks that everyone wanted, and Charles noticed that you didn't have one when you sat down.

"Are you not having one, my love?" Charles leant in to ask while the others talked about something that you weren't quite listening to. "No, I've had two, so I'll stop there," you smiled, not wanting to get too drunk.

"Come on, have a bit of fun. It is my birthday, after all," he said, giving you those puppy eyes that were too damn irresistible. "Fine, I'll have one," you caved instantly as a triumphant grin spread on Charles' face. That was the grin that came out when he'd gotten his own way.

You went to stand, but a firm hand on your shoulder pushed you back down into your seat. "Sit, I've got it," he said, standing and disappearing into the kitchen. He was back shortly after, handing you a glass with some sort of clear, bubbling liquid inside of it.

"What is it?" You asked, sniffing it to try and discern what it could be, to no avail.

"Drink it and I'll tell you," he smirked. You took a sip, and you still couldn't quite tell what it was. It was slightly bitter, but the edge was taken off by a hint of sweetness, and it tasted faintly of some sort of berries. "That is very nice, whatever it is," you told him, drinking some more.

Suddenly, that triumphant grin appeared on his face again. "I knew I'd get you to like gin and tonic at some point," he chuckled, winking at you. 

"This isn't like the stuff you've been giving me," you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

"It's the one Arthur brought, it's in the kitchen if you want more," he smiled, taking your free hand in his and intertwining your fingers together. "Y/N, have you still got Twister?" Kika tipsily giggled. Her, Carlos and Arthur had been drinking slightly more than you, Charles and Pierre, so they were all rosy cheeked and giggling a lot.

"I sure do," you smiled, going over to the cabinet and producing the colourful box of the beloved game. Kika clapped, and Charles looked downright mortified. He was never a massive fan of the game, but he liked to see you have fun, so he allowed it.

"Ok, so we'll do the Leclercs' vs the rest of us,'' she said, and you were slightly confused.

"Four on two? How is that fair?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed.

"You're technically a Leclerc, so you play with Charles and Arthur," she smiled, and Carlos and Pierre smirked at Charles. "You might as well be at this point," Charles muttered, smiling at you. Without anymore deliberation, Kika leapt up and set the plastic mat out on the floor.

"Charles, pick your challenger," she said, gesturing towards Pierre and Carlos, who were both reluctant to play - but it was all in good fun. "Carlos, you're one of the least flexible people I know, come on," Charles said, pushing himself off of his chair.

As the round went on, you span the spinner to see what Carlos would be doing next. "Carlos, left foot red," you laughed, looking at the tangled mess that he was in. His arms were crossed, and he somehow had to get his left foot under the entirety of his body to reach the red dot.

"It's not possible!" He complained as he tried to stretch his leg underneath him. As he groaned in discomfort, everyone was just laughing at him. Charles, who was also in a pretty compromising position was laughing too as Carlos' limbs collapsed beneath him and he clattered down to the floor with a thud.

"That was impossible," he huffed as he led on the mat on the floor as Charles stood and stretched his arms and legs out. "Good game, mate," Charles cockily grinned, offering a hand out to Carlos to help him up.

"Yeah, whatever," Carlos chuckled, hoisting himself up with Charles' help.

"So that is 1-0 to team Leclerc, Arthur and Pierre, you're up next," Kika smiled, straightening the mat out for the next round. Pierre and Arthur both groaned, reluctantly standing out of their chairs and standing beside the Twister mat.

Unfortunately for Team Leclerc, Pierre bested Arthur, leaving the game on your's and Kika's shoulders. "Y/N, you and me, let's go," she challenged, kicking her heels off to the side.

"Oh it's getting serious now," Pierre teased as he had to miss the flying heels that were coming in his direction. "I don't like to lose," she smirked, pointing at her boyfriend.

"Neither do I," you countered, leaving your heels beside Charles' chair as you stood to challenge Kika. "It's 1-1, let's see who can come out on top," Arthur said like he was presenting a football match or something. "Wait, so you're telling me we could have just let these two do it and our rounds didn't matter for anything?" Carlos asked.

"Yes," you nodded, and you watched the poor guy's face just drop.

"So I didn't even have to go through the pain and suffering that I went through?" he asked again, and everyone started giggling at him. "Sorry Carlos, the game is the game," Charles laughed, and Carlos looked dejected. "I am never hanging out with you guys again," he scoffed with feigned seriousness.

"Sure you aren't, Carlos," Arthur said, receiving a playful punch on the arm due to his comment. "OK, you two, OK, Y/N, right hand blue," Pierre instructed, flicking the spinner with his finger for Kika's turn.

You had your back to Charles, so you bent over to place your right hand on the blue circle. Your dress only barely covered your ass, and it took every ounce of self-control that he held in his being to not find an excuse to get you into any room in the house and have his way with you.

But, he had to remain a gentleman while your friends were there - even if he was going to find that incredibly hard. Especially when you looked as good as you did. He had to avert his eyes and look anywhere in the room but at you, but he was struggling immensely.

Thankfully for him, or not so much, his sinful thoughts were interrupted by Pierre giving you the instruction to put your left foot also on blue. He had dodged a bullet there, but Twister was most certainly going to send another huge one flying at him.

"Are you kidding me?" you exclaimed a few rounds later, as your left hand was supposed to go on the nearest yellow, which was underneath Kika's back. The problem with this was you were doing a crab over Kika, so you wouldn't be able to balance. "Just give it a go, you'll be fine," Carlos collared, loving seeing you two in a compromising position too.

By some miracle, you managed to balance yourself whilst still hovering over Kika. "So the next one is..." Pierre dragged out as he slowly spun the spinner.

"Pierre, hurry up!" Kika squawked, and you wanted him to hurry up too. Your muscles were aching as you held yourself in place. "OK, so, Kika, left foot green," he said, and all she had to do was stretch her leg out by one circle. "Y/N, right foot blue,"

"If I do this, I will flash you all, so look away," you tipsily laughed. Normally you wouldn't have done it, but there was alcohol running through your veins, so the logical and self-preserving part of your brain wasn't in full working order.

Arthur and Pierre averted their eyes, but Carlos looked for that second too long. "Carlos." Charles scolded as the Spaniard defensively held his hands up. He wasn't being disrespectful, he simply reacted too late.

Charles couldn't take his eyes off you, spread out all pretty for him as he uncomfortably shifted in his seat. His resolve was crumbling, and he was counting down the seconds until everyone left you alone. As soon as that door was closed, his hands were going to be all over you.

"Kika, left hand-" Pierre started, but her limbs too gave in under her. You breathed a sigh of relief as you were able to stand up, and your muscles were aching. "And team Leclerc win!" Arthur exclaimed, raising his arms in celebration.

"That was a tough one," you sighed, high-fiving Kika as she took a seat next to Pierre. There weren't any seats left, since Carlos had sat on the floor before Twister started. "Y/N, sit here, I can move," Arthur offered, noticing how there weren't any seats left.

"No, no, you sit down. I can sit on the floor," you dismissed, walking to Charles' side and attempting to sit down. "Absolutely not," Charles said, grabbing your wrist and tugging you onto his lap. You draped your legs over the side of the chair as your arms comfortably wrapped around his neck.

His hands found their perfect position on your waist as you leant your weight onto him. "My girl doesn't sit on the floor, especially not on my birthday," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

His words sent tingled up your spine, and you had to repress a shiver as you sat with him. "Can we do a round of this?" Kika piped up, snatching the Five Second Rule from the shelf beside her, and everyone audibly groaned.

"Just one round, please?" she asked, and you all caved in and thought it could be fun.

"Charles." You stated, tilting away from him as you looked at the car in your hand.

"Baby." he responded, intently looking at you as he waited for you to read him the prompt. "Name three vegetables!" you told him, turning the 5 second timer upside down as it made that strange noise. "Carrot, pea..." he fumbled, his brain short-circuiting as he couldn't think.

"Carrot!" he exclaimed as the timer ran out. For a second, everyone fell silent, and Charles looked utterly confused. "Carrot pea carrot? Name three vegetables and you say carrot pea carrot?"

"That's three vegetables, isn't it- Oh shit," he said as he realised what he had done. Everyone started chuckling, and you were just flabbergasted. "Carrot and carrot are the same vegetable, Charles. I know you don't cook very often, but I'm sure you have the ability to know that carrot and carrot are the same thing!" you ranted, and everyone was crying of laughter.

"Baby, there's no need to make it personal," Charles chuckled, trying to keep a straight face. "There are so many different vegetables in this world, and you name two of the most basic ones, and one of them twice. You adore pasta, and you have forgotten about the humble tomato. Maybe a pepper?" you carried on, and Carlos was practically rolling on the floor with laughter.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm sorry," he laughed, kissing you on the cheek. You simply rolled your eyes at him as everyone calm down. "Carrot pea carrot my god," you muttered, and Charles chuckled at you.

As the six of you talked and sipped at the remnants of your drinks, you slowly shifted on Charles' lap to get more comfortable. "That is a dangerous game, baby," he said lowly in your ear. You couldn't help but shift a little more, as his hands braced on your waist to keep you still.

One of Charles' hands steadily moved along the inside of your thigh, his fingertips tracing the skin. He was getting dangerously close to you, as his fingers brushed over the thin lace that was the final barrier between him and you.

"Hey, later," you winked at him and you pushed his hand away. There was no chance you'd be able to keep yourself from being calm and inconspicuous if you let him do what he wanted to do. You wanted it, but you would never be able to live down the embarrassment if anyone caught you.

You all talked for another hour or so, and they all stood up to leave. You hugged everyone and waved them out of the door, and you were glad the night was such a success. You had enjoyed yourself, everyone else had enjoyed themselves, and -most importantly- Charles had enjoyed himself.

Once you had closed the door, you picked some glasses up off the tables and took them over to the sink to wash them. You couldn't be bothered to wash them now, so you just left them in the sink. You were putting away some of the bottles into the cupboards, and Charles appeared in the doorway.

For a moment, he just let himself watch you. He had behaved for the whole night, but now his resolve had fully crumbled and he rushed up to you. "Hey, you-" you started, but were abruptly cut off by him pressing his lips to yours as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter.

The marble was cold on the backs of your thighs, and it sent shivers through your body. "You have been driving me crazy all night, you know that?" he told you between kisses. You could taste the alcohol on his lips as his kisses became more aggressive, more desperate.

"I probably could have guessed that," you smirked against his lips, running your hands across his chest and over his shoulders. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress over your thighs and hips.

As your fingers fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, you saw the hunger in his eyes. The pure lust. "Just because it's your birthday, you can do whatever. You. Want," you whispered, and you knew you could have just gotten yourself into something dangerous. 

"Well then that makes this easier," he smirked, his lips ghosting across your neck and down your chest. "I have been wanting to do this for hours, but you just had to go and make things difficult for me, didn't you?" he playfully scolded, gently nipping at the skin on your shoulders.

The white fabric of his shirt was sent fluttering to the floor as you slid it off and over his shoulders. Your hands moved to his belt next, but he effortlessly tugged your wrist away. "Not yet, I want to see you squirm for me first," he said, slithering his hands up the sides of your thighs and to your hips, his fingers hooking into the flimsy slithers of lace that sat there.

He slipped the garment over your thighs and down your legs, discarding them to the floor just like his shirt. Charles looked at you with those big green eyes, keeping them locked on yours as he sunk to his knees in front of you. His eyes still trained on yours, he placed a hand on either knee and spread your legs as he slotted himself in between them.

"God have you been this wet for me all night? I would have sent everyone home earlier if I had known," he smirked, placing soft kisses up the insides of your thighs, nibbling on them every now and then. You shuffled closer to the edge of the counter, hoping he would take the subtle hint.

"So desperate for me, but I'm feeling nice. How could I make my gorgeous girl wait?" He teased, kissing dangerously close to you. You were desperate for it, he had gotten that completely right. You were positively throbbing for it. Without another word, he licked a thick stripe up your dripping folds.

You leant back against the kitchen cabinets, tangling your hands in his hair as he kept your legs split open with his hands. Every now and then, he would attach his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerve endings, just to keep you on edge. His tongue teased your entrance as you tugged on his hair even harder.

You pressed your hips into his face as he smirked against you. "If you wanted more, all you had to do was ask," he told you, sucking and nibbling on your clit as you moaned out in pleasure. It was like sparks of electricity pulsed through you every time he made the slightest movement on you, and it was becoming almost unbearable.

"Fuck, just like that," you mewled, running your hands through his hair again. He kept on licking and lapping at all of the right places, and you felt like a volcano was going to explode inside you. "Shit, baby, I'm-" you started, but you were cut off by him slowing his movements.

"You close, my love?" He mumbled, running his tongue over your clit again. You were so sensitive, moaning with every movement he made. "Mhm," you hummed, not able to form full words without moaning out. Charles knew you were close as he carried on teasing you with his tongue.

Just as you were about to come undone, he pulled his mouth away from you and kissed you on the lips. "You really thought I'd give it to you just like that? You made me wait, now you've gotta wait too, it's only fair," he mocked with a wicked grin plastered on his face.

"Baby," you whined, looking at him with those eyes that told him everything he needed to know. You needed it, and you needed it badly. But, he wanted to hear you say it. "Beg for it, baby. Tell me how much you want me. How much you need me," he instructed, sinking back down to his knees again.

He planted excruciating kisses on the insides of your thighs as he waited. "Please," you whispered, jolting your hips forward, desperate for the extra contact. "I can't hear you," he dismissed, nipping the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"Please, Charles," you groaned, louder this time.

"What are you saying 'please' for? What do you want?" He grinned, adoring the control he had over you right now. "Please, baby, I need to cum," you practically shouted, hoping it was enough for him.

"Oh you need it do you? Do you need me then, my darling?" He teased.

"I need you so bad right now, I'm aching for it baby," you grovelled, and that was like music to Charles' ears as he came closer and closer to you. "That was exactly what I needed to hear,'' he told you, diving straight back into you. His tongue circled your clit perfectly, and the extra pressure you had been so desperate for was being granted.

"Is this good, my love? Is this what you wanted?" He mocked, tasting the neediness on his tongue.

"Fuck, yes," you moaned, tipping your head back. Your breaths were short and shallow as you felt yourself crumbling. "I'm going to-" you began, but Charles pressed your clit that tad bit harder, and you felt a tingling wave of pleasure wash over you as you cried out for him.

He stood back up, aggressively kissing you as you could taste a mix of yourself and alcohol on his tongue. But, the taste of him was far more intoxicating than any alcoholic beverage could ever be. It ran through your veins and made you drunk on pure lust, and it felt better in every conceivable way.

As he kissed you, Charles thought over where he could take you. He didn't want to keep you on the counter, but your bedroom was far too far away for how much he needed you now. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the empty dining room table, and it was the perfect option.

He held his hand on your bare ass as he carried you over to the table and sat you down on it. He slipped the remnants on your dress over your head, leaving you completely exposed to him as your nipples pricked up in the cold. "Fucking hell, you're so goddamn beautiful, baby,"

He stole yours lips with his before you could say a response, and he wasn't in the mood for waiting any longer. You could sense his neediness, slinking your hands down to his belt and unbuckled it. He didn't have any protests as he kept his hands on the sides of your face, holding him there as he kissed you.

You pushed his pants down to his knees, and he couldn't be bothered to kick them off - he didn't need to, anyway. Charles pushed your legs further apart with his knee and stepped impossibly closer to you. "You ready?" he asked, despite the fact that he already knew the answer.

"Yes," you breathed as he gently eased into you, and the feeling of him filling you up was like pure ecstacy. He gave you a second to get acclimatized to the stretch before slowly starting to rock his hips into yours.

The feeling of you wrapped around his cock was unlike anything, and it sent straight euphoria surging through his veins. He touch every inch of your insides as he moved, the tip of his dick hitting that one spot that nobody else seemed to be able to find with every thrust.

You didn't know where to put your hands, so caught up in what he was doing to you. You linked them around the back of his neck, nails digging into his flesh as you came closer and closer to release.

"How the fuck did I get so lucky?" he groaned, hands gripping onto your hips so hard you were certain they'd leave bruises there in the morning. But you didn't care. "My girl is the sweetest in the whole world, and her body is perfect in every single way. It's like you're made for me, baby," he rambled as he picked up his pace.

His head was spinning as he leant in and peppered random kisses all down your neck. He was addicted to the way you made him feel and the way he made you feel.

He could feel your legs start to shake, but your walls were already clenching around him. "You close again, baby?" he spat through gritted teeth, rutting his hips into you harder and harder. "Mhm," you hummed, not able to formulate full words. 

The feeling of you combined with the sweet sounds of you moaning for him sent him over the edge, and you dug your nails into the flesh of his shoulders as you came with him. As you both rode out your highs, letting the tingles slowly fade away, you clung onto him. 

The room fell silent, before Charles broke the quiet with a, "Thank you, my love. You're amazing, and not just at that, of course," he softly chuckled, holding you in his arms for a moment. 

"Happy birthday, baby," you smiled, leaning into his embrace as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. "And this has been the happiest of birthdays for me. Yes, I love the yacht parties, but a quiet night in with my favourite people is all I need," he told you. 

You sleepily smiled at him, holding your eyes open as you looked at him. "Are you tired, my love?" he cooed, looking at your half open eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair was all puffy, your lips red and puffy from how much he had kissed you. 

There were small red marks over your neck and shoulders from where he had gently nibbled at the skin as he gently ran his fingers over them. They were just small reminders of who you belonged to, even though there was no doubt in anyone's mind of who that was. 

"Yeah, but we can stay up. Whatever you want," you said, suppressing a yawn. 

"We can go to bed, I need birthday cuddles," he said, hoisting you up into his arms like a bride on her wedding day. "You get cuddles every night, what makes them different because it's your birthday?" you giggled, clinging onto him for dear life. But, you knew he would rather die than drop you. 

"I don't know, they just feel more special when it's on my birthday," he explained, dropping you down onto your bed. He threw a hoodie from his drawer at you, before slipping some sweatpants up his legs. 

Just as Charles hopped into bed beside you, you remembered something. "Shit, how could I forget?" you scolded yourself, scrambling out of bed and into the kitchen. 

"Baby? You alright?" Charles asked, wondering why you had disappeared so quickly. 

"Close your eyes!" you told him as you stood outside the door. Charles did as he was told as you walked into the room, trying not to drop what you were carrying. "Happy birthday to you," you started to sing as Charles opened his eyes. "Happy birthday to you," you continued as you perched on the bed beside him.

"Happy birthday dear Lord Perceval, happy birthday to you," you finished, completely off key. Charles saw the very poorly done Ferrari logo on the top of the cake, the prancing horse appearing to have three legs and his eye was very wonky. In the top corner, you had hand-piped a list of all the races he had won, as well as your favourite podiums of his. 

"Blow out the candles," you told him, moving the cake closer to him. The orange flames on the 2 and the 6 were extinguished as he blew them out, unable to wipe the goofy smile off his face. "When did you make this?" he smiled, taking the cake out of your hands.

"Yesterday when you were out with Arthur," you told him, glad he had noticed that you had made it. "I know it's a bit shit, but I tried,"

"I prefer this to the actual one any day of the week," he said, grabbing his phone and taking a picture of the cake. "It's perfect, thank you baby," he thanked, looking at the cake again. 

"Happy birthday, Charles," you said again, and you both hoped there would be many more to come. 

A/N - Tanti Auguri to the love of my life, and the guy who makes everyday that slight bit easier. Forza Ferrari, and Forza Charles Leclerc 💖

|masterlist|

[edgeray]

“LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME

and never never never ever let go”- Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer

Mafia AU! Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. Well, my gay ass is back with another oneshot. This one has been in the works for at least a month. I'm considering making a Part 2, but that will definitely take at least a couple weeks for me to publish (if not months). I wish I was kidding. School literally hates me and my teachers are incessant on killing my GPA. This is also a gift for @megistusdiary because it'll be her birthday when I post this. Please go check out her blog for amazing genshin wlw content (especially Arlecchino content!) Would you guys like this on AO3 as well?

Content Warning/Info: This is a long af oneshot (6.3k words), long af descriptions and kinda long intro, Arlecchino is referred to with they/them pronouns, implied female but no usage of feminine pronouns for Reader, general dark-ish content, pet names, Arlecchino is a lil scary, I've never been to a club so I apologize for the very inaccurate information, nor have I ever been apart of the mafia so also inaccurate, a bit suggestive but otherwise sfw, if I'm missing anything feel free to tell me!

---

Monsters are said to have lied underneath beds–waiting to ensnare an unknowing victim–or stalk hidden among the depths of a closet–awaiting an opportune moment to strike its next prey. Monsters are fabled entities that are used to scare off children from bad behavior and are quickly eased from the mind by coddling parents. The mere notion of a monster shooed away like a pesky fly, swept underneath the subconscious like forgotten specks of dirt. 

You know otherwise. Real monsters don’t lurk on the undersides of mattresses; no, they lurk both in the skies above and the depths below. They do not stalk dark closets because they instead stalk alleys in daylit streets. Monsters are very real, that you know is true since you’ve seen your fair share of them. You’ve met monsters in person–they’ve come to you before. Terrifying is an understatement for them, and each time one has appeared as a client, you’re no less scared shitless.

You’ve learned that even inhumane demons find themselves in need of entertainment; like the sinful creatures they are, they seek self-pleasure. And that is how you found yourself in this particular circle of hell, meant to serve and please demons, devils, and monsters alike. Perhaps it was a revolting job, working at a strip club run by a criminal organization but it paid decent money for being danced on the fingertips of whoever you were unfortunate enough to be assigned to.

If it was a regular strip club, being an exotic dancer would have been fine. It wouldn't be so bad. Lustful and prying eyes can be accustomed to quickly, and so are the flattering compliments and the awkward flirting by middle-aged married men. However, there was a difference between lecherous and predatory gazes. Here, you aren’t even viewed as a person, no, the clients here, those that come in reeking of smoke or blood (though sometimes both), armed with knives and guns on their person, see you as nothing more than a toy or prey for them. Even in the eyes of your employer, you're less than human in their eyes. 

‘You harm our merchandise, you’ll pay for it,’ is the warning given to every guest when they first enter. Merchandise. That's what you are. And that single line of words is the only thing that assures you of your safety among mafia members, gangsters, crooks, and whatnot. You've heard that the organization behind this strip club does well in enforcing that rule according to other dancers, but you personally don't want to see if the statement is true. You've been here for a little over a year, and besides bruising grips and pulled hair you’ve surprisingly yet to be seriously injured in any way. So maybe monsters do have a little humanity in them. 

You're quickly growing to be a fan favorite as of recently, which means more money goes your way, but you're not sure how you feel about all the attention on you. It's most likely because of how often you offer private dances and private rooms to clients. Whatever gets you the most money; the faster you make money the faster you can pay off your debt and be out of here. 

Tonight is supposed to be no different from other nights. You perform on stage, you rile up the crowd, you get showered in tips, and if there is a customer that looks mentally sane enough not to murder you in private, you take them to the back. Except, tonight, you're approached by your boss, who informs you that the entirety of the club was reserved by the Fatui, a well-known mafia more powerful and larger than the one that backs you up, for some celebration. These kinds of occurrences in the club rarely crop up, but when they do, they're often the most opportune time to bag in an abundant amount of money. Big shots like the Fatui pay and tip well, but there's one unsaid risk that comes with this: as a mere dancer like yourself, your life quite literally dangles in the Fatuis’ hands tonight. The organization that owns this establishment can't retaliate against the Fatuis if they so choose to dismiss the warning. They can't even compare to the might of the Fatui.

Simply put, if a Fatui kills you tonight, no one could do more besides bat their eyelashes. You're not at all pleased with this predicament of practically bordering on death, especially when you know one wrong move with one too hot-tempered Fatui could land you at the pearly gates. Keep pleasing the crowd, keep entertaining them, keep racking in the money, you remind yourself as you continue your dance, twirling around the pole sensually, and the customers devour every movement with their eyes. The only comfort you're given is that you've heard the Fatui are quite reasonable and diplomatic most of the time. This is especially true for the Harbingers, you've heard, the twelve most elite members that serve under the Tsaritsa, and the ones that are the most exclusive customers this night. That doesn't mean the Harbingers are any more humane than the average crook. Having worked in a strip club run by the mafia and surrounded by criminal organizations, the more rumored something is, the more dangerous it is. They can be considered devils amongst demons even. That's simply how vile they're supposed to be. 

The most concerning problem about the Harbingers is that you don’t know what they look like, only the occasional whisper has alluded to how to distinguish between the twelve. Perhaps, you can survive through the night if you try not to draw too much attention; let the other dancers shine instead and hope you don’t get requested for a private room or dance. That way, you can ensure you don’t end up dead. 

Your time to go upstage comes sooner than you’re prepared for. Your hands are clammy, and your form trembles in a way that only happened during your first month. Both reactions don’t make for a very good combination when your survival relies on you not fucking up and disappointing criminal customers. As you approach the pole, just like every time you’ve done, you make sure that the crowd’s gazes are in the backdrop of your mind, and instead, fixate on repeating the movements you’ve been taught and have mastered with your experience. Bet your survival on the provocative sway of your hips, the practiced showcase of your legs, and the allure of your dancing form. Beguile the crowd, but not too much, just enough to wow them. From what you can tell by the volume of the crowd, you’re doing a good job pleasing the Fatui enough. Your body stops tremoring after a few minutes on stage, and with one last final push of courage, you focus your eyes on the crowd before you.

Unsurprisingly, the makeup of the Fatui are men, though there are notably quite a few women. Either way, all of their attention is on you. As your eyes scan across a crowd, for one reason or another, you stop at a particular set of eyes near the back of the crowd. Intent, pitch-black abysses stare back, like they were trying to bore into your soul and devour every single motion of yours. They don’t quite hold the same ravenous desire as many of those before you right now, you mentally note with curiosity. It feels like your form is being calculated, in the way a predator would cautiously observe their next prey, a sensation you’ve experienced a few times, but each is no less chilling. The weight of their engrossed gaze causes you to shiver momentarily, and you snap away from their disturbing gaze to prevent any fumbling or faltering while you’re on stage. 

Tonight marks the first time you actively seek out the same viewer while on stage, or even, during your entire time here. For some reason, you feel awfully bold, or curious, whichever two comforts you more, and unlike the meek little rabbit you usually are, you instead search for the viewer’s gaze. You find the pair of eyes with relative ease, as you remember that above their eyes are distinctive snow-white strands with streaks as black as their orbs. You take a moment to study them, and they remind you of a lion–or lioness–among hyenas. The aura they exude varied quite a bit compared to the other Fatui in front of you: not rambunctious, or arrogant; it's apparent they held an aura of indomitable authority just from the way they held themselves. Perfect posture with their clasped hands nested in their lap, with one leg raised over the other. They’re an embodiment of perfected elegance, however, much like a porcelain doll, they’re also expressionless, their appearance unmarred. You don’t examine the Fatui’s form for much longer because their scrutiny on you pricks at your skin irritatedly. 

You don’t look for them again throughout your performance. In fact, you hope you never meet those charcoal pits again. You’re afraid that if you do, you’ll be ensnared by whatever beastly claws or fangs you know that Fatui hides underneath that impenetrable mask. The moment your time on stage ends, you rush back to the changing room to shake off your nerves. You sit down at a nearby chair, taking in deep sighs as you attempt to forget how you were stared down like a you were cornered, defenseless animal. And that is what you are, as much as you hate it. There’s nothing that can protect you from the Fatui. Maybe if you hide, never show your face for the rest of the night, they’ll forget they ever saw you and they’ll target another dancer. Surely, that will work, won’t it? 

You’re able to steady your breathing before you can delve into a panic attack. Tonight, you decide, you’re not going to take any customers to any private rooms or take any private dances. You’d be missing out on a lot of money, but your life is more of a priority as of currently; not after the ‘encounter’ with that individual, you don’t want to think about how many more are just like them, hiding in the crowd like they were awaiting an opportunity to pounce on your vulnerable form. 

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else has other plans for you because your manager storms into the room asking for your whereabouts before his eyes narrow on you. You immediately sit up, stiff as a board when he practically marches his way towards you. 

"Someone wants you." 

You sigh and shake your head. You should have known. "Not tonight." 

He clicks his tongue. "You know I can't allow that tonight." 

You bite your lip. "Just pass them to someone else." 

"They're not someone you or I can refuse." 

"Who?" You question with a shuddering breath, your nails digging into your thigh. 

"The fourth one. The Knave. Lord Arlecchino."

Fuck your life. You might as well pull the trigger now. You’ve heard faint whispers of each Harbinger from the customers audacious enough to speak of them. The youngest, the eleventh, charming and boyish. The ninth, money-obsessed but a pretty looker. The eighth, elegant and cold, yet no less alluring. The seventh, as human-like as their robotic creations, which to say isn’t very. The sixth, is hotheaded and mysterious. The fifth, unknown. And the fourth?

Insane. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. That’s how the fourth is described. You shiver at the horrors that appear on the forefront of your mind when imagining what may come for you. If you're lucky, you'll be alive at the end of the night, more than likely clinging to the edge of living. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Get ready as soon as you can.” 

And you do. It’s not long until you stand in front of the private room’s door, your guest is already inside more than likely. The Fourth Harbinger is waiting, you remind yourself, fruitlessly trying to swallow down your stress. You can be dead the minute you step inside, this room could be marked as your grave. Whatever he tells you to do, you’ll obey wordlessly to survive. Just nod along, smile, and do whatever it is that he tells you regardless of the demand. You inhale deeply, regaining some ease of mind, before you bring your knuckles to the door, knocking. 

“Come in,” comes a deep, flat voice, slightly muffled by its distance but what surprises you is how feminine the Harbinger sounds. Maybe you got the wrong room. You glance back at the room number plate on the door, and it’s the room you remember your manager mentioning. It’s the right room. Maybe someone else? You don’t have time to wonder, however, as you enter the room, knowing that if it is the Fourth, it wouldn’t be wise to keep him (Her? Them? You’ll just stick with ‘them’ now.) waiting. 

“Lord Arlecchino?” You inquire as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. Sucking in a harsh inhale, you instantly recognize their distinct hair. It’s them. Your sight is immediately greeted by the figure sitting on the couch before you, sitting in exactly the same way you discovered them–crossed-legged and lounging back with unfaltering confidence. The Knave wears a scarlet blazer over a black compressed turtleneck, with a matching set of crimson leggings. Upon closer inspection, you’re able to make out red irises in their jet-black eyes. Despite the blatant and literal red flag, something about their appearance draws you in even when they scream danger. They’re… you’re not quite sure how to describe them. You admire the unblemished and pale skin, their elegant and rugged demeanor is like the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity. Are they beautiful, or are they handsome? You think both. 

Arlecchino stares back at you like they’re considering devouring you then and there. You can’t suppress the shudder that runs down your spine. You’re a sheep before a wolf. There’s something so chilling about them that even with your experience with other clients, none has ever made you feel this way with just their mere gaze alone. This is what separates the average crook from one of the most powerful mafia members you've ever heard of.

You wait for a response but they only continue to observe you. You take the silence as confirmation to your question and that they’re anticipating something from you. Biting back a sigh of resignation, your hands hook underneath the band of your bra top and you lift it just the slightest amount before a cutting voice makes you freeze.

“What are you doing?” the Harbinger demands, their tone chilling and apathetic, making you want to shrink in yourself immediately. Your blood pumps loudly in your ears and your hands tremble a bit. Something about how designing their gaze makes you suddenly self-aware in a way you’ve never felt before another client–you’re practically half-naked in front of them with your skimpy bra top, undergarments, and fishnets and now is the only moment that you've actually considered how little covering is on you. 

Why are they stopping you? Isn’t this what they wanted you to do? Or maybe they just want to do it themselves. Those types of customers always have the most bruising of grips and suffocating of holds. You stiffen at the notion. How are you going to survive this night with a Fatui Harbinger of all things? How many of your limbs are going to be fractured and how many of your bones are going to end up broken? 

“I…I’m undressing,” your meek voice sounds out and you hate the crack in your speech. The Harbinger continues to scrutinize you. You don’t dare continue disrobing yourself. 

There are several beats of wordless response before they then stand up from the couch. 

Oh shit. You’ve fucked up. Are they going to kill you now? Is this your end? 

Every thought is telling you to run in the opposite direction as they stalk up to you, but you're petrified as you realize with a chill that they’re taller than you. You’re not short by any means, a bit above average height, but they tower over you, looking down at you from above and casting judgment on you like a god. Once they stride toward you, you avoid eye contact by looking straight, observing their neck and clavicle that protrudes from underneath the fabric. You tense when they raise a hand, their manicured fingers placing themselves underneath your chin and long, carmine nails dig into the underside of your jaw, making you wince. They forcefully tilt your head, raising your focus onto their face. 

It’s like they plunged their hands down your throat and ripped out the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe. Up close, the first thing you notice is their lips, plump and red from their lipstick. Briefly, you wonder what color their lipstick would look on your skin. Then your eyes travel up, red-crossed eyes gaze back at you and you gape quietly at the distinct shape of their pupils. You swear that their pupils flash red as you finally lock eye contact with them. 

“Did I tell you to?” Their tone is cold compared to the strange softness of their handsome (beautiful?) face. 

Something in your gut coils inwardly and you want to look away, but their firm hold on your chin prevents you. You bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. You’re delicate glass in their hands, and they can break you so, so easily. 

“No, sir.” Only the numerous times you’ve said this phrase ensures you don’t stumble over your words. They don’t answer promptly, but as they observe your features, their lips quirk up the slightest amount. 

“You know how to address me. Very good,” Arlecchino purrs after several beats of silence, in a low, oh-so-sultry tone, and oh. Oh. 

You’re not sure why, but their last two words make your stomach churn, but not in a discomforting way. In the way that lights a fire underneath your skin and spreads heat to every part of your body. You’ve never quite felt this way with another customer. You couldn’t believe that your body reacts this way just from a single praise but it doesn’t stop the pooling heat in your bowels. The chill down your spine still remains in place, but there’s an off-putting equilibrium of iciness and fervor generated from the client. 

The Fatui’s eyes stay fixated on you wordlessly until the hand on your chin turns your head, finally breaking you free of their intense behold. Their grip slackens so that they can trace their nails gently down your throat, every inch of surface their fingertips brush against ignites a blaze on your skin. A shuddering exhale leaves your lips and it seems like they take notice because from the corner of your eye, the small uptick of their mouth grows. Despite how sensual and probing the Harbinger’s touch feels, there’s nothing lecherous about it–purely just intrigue and fascination. It’s a touch you both have and never experienced before. Cold nails rake against your throat, not enough to mark or scratch, but enough to invoke shivers. 

You’re aware you should be terrified, but for a reason you can’t pin down, you can’t jerk away from their touch. You try to reason with yourself it was only because you’re one upset away from getting yourself killed but that reasoning falls apart when their hand gingerly traces your jawline and you make the softest of groans, a barely audible noise of content. Unfortunately for you, the sound seems to have reached Arlecchino’s ears and their expression softens slightly: their eyes narrow less and their brows aren’t as creased. And that smirk–if you could even call it that from how faint it is–becomes a half-smirk. 

They pull their hand away and your trance is broken, reality returning back to you as you remember that the person before you is still a Fatui Harbinger, no matter how bizarrely melting their touch was. They turn on their heel and walk towards the couch in front of you; the slightest bit of heaviness is placed on your heart. You remain stationary where you are, observing them as they seat themselves gracefully on the couch, and their attention encounters yours again. Their black pits hold expectancy in them. At first, you’re clueless as to what the criminal desires from you, but then their legs spread apart, an inviting gesture that beckons you and every rational thought leaves your easily swayed mind. Your heart skips a beat, and you're sure this time it's not out of trepidation. 

Even if you didn’t command them to, your legs would take you to their seating figure. You stand before them, feeling blatantly disrespectful to look down at Arlecchino, but you await their order. They lean back, lounging laxly against the couch, their posture never lacking their usual self-assurance. It only ties the knot in your gut tighter. You’re aware of what they’re instructing you to do, but the absent confirmation makes you hesitant. It seems like the Knave picks up on this because the room echoes with one definitive spouted word from their lips, authority and dominance ringing through their husky voice. 

“Sit.” 

Your legs buckle underneath you from the one-worded response, the demand only stoking the consuming fire inside you. Eager to please, you perch yourself on their lap, straddling them, your knees pressed into the furniture below you and encasing both of their thighs between your own. 

Oh, you think to yourself as your legs make contact with their thighs. They're firm. And for some reason, that provokes your stomach to churn in itself even more. You're so close to them, enough to feel their breath cascade against your skin. 

As you seat yourself, you nearly clumsily topple over, instinctively grasping onto their shoulders for support. Their shoulders are remarkably broad, you regard, well-muscled as well. Their hands creep up on your hips, steady but gentle hands grasping on each bare side of yours to stabilize you. The heat that radiates from their hands is infectious, regardless of the nails that burrow into your plush waist. For the first time, you flush considerably, a sweltering inferno forming in your cheeks and your head fills with dizziness. Their touch is gentle–something you rarely experience with customers–so, so gentle that you would describe it as heavenly. How can someone so inexplicably vile have heaven on their fingertips?

It's not a position you never found yourself in. In fact, it's far from the first time you've been like this with another client. But here, as you're sat on top of the Fatui Harbinger, and red x-pupils search yours, a foreign feeling passes through you. Placing your finger on it, you dubiously think it's bashfulness, but the heartbeat that sings in your ears and pulses underneath your fingertips tells you otherwise, tells you it's something more. Against that, you remove your grasp on their shoulders and place your palm flat against the couch’s surface behind the Knave. 

You squirm a bit, nervousness in your form as you remain as still as you possibly can, waiting for any more instructions. All you need to do is act like an obedient doll for them in order to survive; compliance is the best way of ensuring survival with people like these. You feel like you're merely eye candy from the way that their attention flits across your body, but you're immobile throughout the entirety of their observance. Being looked at is much better than any physical interaction. Their hands still cup your hips, but slowly, they descend to the side of your thighs, making your skin feel tingly. 

Impulsively, you mumble out a quiet "Sir…" as strange sensations brush against your skin. 

The sound surprises you and you feel on edge as their eyes travel from your lower half to your face. You gulp considerably. From their stare, they expect more of a response, a reason for their addressment, but even you don’t know yourself; it seems like an unconscious calling that just rolled off your tongue. You cow underneath their gaze, even when the two of you are at eye level. When you linger in quietude, their hand releases one of your thighs and lifts to your face, supporting your chin while their thumb rests on your bottom lip, unfurling it just the slightest amount to implore an answer from your now parted lips. Gleaming scarlet pupils grip your regard sternly, piercing into you and instilling you to spew something out. Except, you still can’t, now too entranced and lost in the crimson. 

“Doll.” 

Despite the pet name, it's devoid of any affection or warmth. It's a word that drips of command, a reminder of your place: simply a toy that they can play with however they want, a manipulated and decorated plaything for their amusement. That means you answer to them, and so when they request a response, you're under the obligation to please them. Your survival is in their palms anyway, if they wanted you to dance, you would just so they wouldn’t strangle the life out of you. 

However, its implication doesn’t prevent the tingling shudders that wrack your body nor the involuntary clenching of your thighs around theirs. Was it the gravelly voice that aroused your behavior? Your cheeks flare at the knowledge that Harbinger sensed the physical reaction. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible, your thoughts repeat, but then they're interrupted by: 

"Oh?" Arlecchino inquires to themselves, a stark amusement in their speech. Their red glare illuminates slightly, replacing the lost darkening with a faint glow in their pupils, and the corner of their mouth curls up. It is only then that you discover something entirely new: that monsters can be sinfully, cataclysmically, terrifyingly beautiful and the sight before you is the most exquisite example. A devil has you wrapped in its claws and its fangs readied for devouring but it’s disguised as an ethereal angel; blinded by their perilous allure, you mistake their snow-white hair, their lustrous piercing rubies, their flawless porcelain skin, and their burning, fleeting touches as traits of a seraph. From a measly smirk, you forget the atrocities lying underneath their fingertips and dismiss the hazard their presence holds. 

The hand on your thigh rakes its fingers up, red nails trailing across the surface of your fishnet, wrenching out a breathy gasp from you as they travel inwards. Tingling pleasure injects into your veins as you subconsciously lean in, imploring for further sensual contact. A plea sits on your tongue and nests in your eyes as you beg them through your pitiful expression. They drink in your desperation with a slow swipe of their tongue over their lips, and that single action is debauched enough to elicit a soft groan from your throat.

“Well, aren’t you an amusing toy?” They drawl out with a preposing rasp and dark abysses glint with an insatiable hunger. 

They smirk enticingly, their thumb running across your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick on their thumb pad. Their grip on your chin tightens a bit, pulling you even closer to them before a shadow casts over you when their face nears. Before you can even fathom their intentions, they descend upon you, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips are greeted with something pillowy soft and fervently warm, and you sharply inhale from the sensation. Every one of your nerves sings frenziedly, your muscles tense all over, and your heartbeat drums deafeningly in your ears–all of this as your body is engulfed in a fervid tornado of heat that makes you lightheaded with pleasure. It takes you several beats to realize the reason for this is that Lord Arlecchino, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave is kissing–no, kissing is far too intimate, devouring–you voraciously like they're trying to rob you of any air, trying to imprint themselves on your mouth. Their mouth dominates yours, pushing against them with a deep fervor and famished urgency, eager to swallow every bit of shocked noise you make. 

You close your eyes and allow yourself to indulge. 

You first taste lipstick with a waxy flavor hitting your tastebuds. It’s cold against your lips, yet warm at the same time. But the physical texture and flavor of their lips are irrelevant; there’s only one true manner you would distinguish their taste: 

They taste like sin. 

The type of sin that’s chocolate coated and sprinkled with colorful toppings; depravity so sweet and charming it makes you reconsider the bounds of right and wrong. Degeneracy is far, far tastier than anything you’ve indulged in before. How can something so evil be so heavenly? Cushiony soft, placidly warm, flatteringly zealous, it’s like having a dance with a devil; so unequivocally immoral but no less gratifying. You question if they really belong to the Fatui because how can something like this come from such? You want to engrave the texture of their mouth onto your memory, feel this faux intimacy even when you’ve long parted. The Fourth Harbinger, you surmise as you surrend your will to them, is decadent–the only word that can be defined as both wicked and delectable at once–the perfect word to describe them. 

The last remaining bit of reasoning comes to the backdrop of your thoughts and begs you to not be swept away in the heavenly embrace. You discount it in favor of accepting this godsent gift by leaning further with a weak imitation of their ravishing lips and pressing back. It’s a feeble attempt to match their insatiate nature, far too domineering and forceful than you can manage but they display a token of appreciation when they squeeze your thigh, indenting your skin shallowly with the burrowing of their nails. The action exposes just how sensitive you’ve gone underneath their touch and you reward them with the sweetest of sounds. 

“Arlecchino,” you mumble with half-lidded dazed eyes in between ravenous exchanges and it evokes a depraved throaty growl from the Fatui, like provoking a call from a starving beast. They lean deeper to indulge in your taste. The gruff sound reaches your ears and it’s like a psalm–you shudder from its musical melody. 

Their clutch on your jaw releases and their fingers outline your jawline before snaking to the back of your head. Well-manicured digits entangle themselves in your hair, and there’s a gentle shove against your skull that forces you deeper into the kiss. Your hands clutch onto the couch underneath you as tight as you physically can for any sense of grounding and your knees attempt to close in even more to feel more of their body against yours. The hand on your leg, in turn, caresses the length of your thigh. 

Every graceful touch, stroke, and brush exudes an unyielding and infectious warmth that only adds to the stoking fire in your gut, and you’re bathed in so much swelter from the ecstasy that you feel dizzy. Yet, you never want it to end, you grow more addicted and drunk with each encounter of their lips. That, paired with your strained breathing, prompts your stamina to falter much sooner than the Harbinger’s. You let out a soft whine to signal your depleting oxygen, and their mouth unlatch with yours, pulling away despite your ache for more. With the separation comes a small string of saliva attached between the two of you, evidence of the shared intimacy that’s snapped when they lick their lips. The hand behind your head detangles from your hair and you silently mourn over the loss of contact. 

You heave for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You’re a little perturbed when you notice that they’re not even out of breath, a small but firm reminder that they’re as inhuman as humans can be. That knocks a sense of reality back into you. Customer, mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, it comes back to you like a train. Here you are swapping spit with them while in the lap of potentially the most dangerous criminal you could ever meet, but fuck were they a good kisser–you’ve never experienced anything that came close to this in your lifetime.

Any foolish doubtful contemplation of the morality of this interaction is swept away just like that when you hear:

“Greedy little thing that you are,” they regard with the most cunning and handsome of smiles, discrete amusement dripping from their words. Their dark pits behold you entirely, the same way they have always done when it seems like they were contemplating what part of you to savor the most. Only this time, you’re not so disturbed by the notion. If anything, the swirling heat in between your legs suggests the opposite.  

Greedy wasn't a word often associated with you, yet you couldn't more correctly describe yourself in that moment. Greedy. Greedy for a Fatui Harbinger no less. As ashamed as you should be, there's no use denying that you crave for their touch, for their gaze, for anything and everything they're willing to give you. You want everything and more. The more you contemplate, the more it seems obvious why you wouldn’t. Are they a devil disguised as an angel, or are they an angel that fell from grace? Regardless, they bring nirvana to you. An incessant desire bubbles inside you, your throat swelling up with an urgent request on the tip of your tongue. Would they allow such a thing if you plead? Would they be offended by your impudence? Would they punish you for such? But the necessity outweighs any reconsideration of your insolence and the supplicant beg tumbles out of your loose lips. 

“Can I… touch you please, my Lord?” You croak out, wincing at just how wretched it comes out. The response from them is not immediate as the two of you stew in silence, a building sense of dejection inside of you. The expression on their face noticeably contorts, smile lessening, their brows furrowing, and their red x’s glinting dimly. Their free hand raises to near your neck and you suck in a harsh breath as their fingers enclose around your throat. The mere action sends a stinging reminder to your lust-dazed thoughts about their position, and a chill pierces you. 

Mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave–the labels cycle through your thoughts. Though their grip is lax, not exactly suffocating and giving ample space to breathe, their fingertips does acutely jab into your skin, a display of their impressive grip strength. You have no doubt that they can suffocate you with one hand alone, snap your neck, or, as your mind ventures into more harrowing territories, crush your skull. Those thoughts alone has you breathless with anticipation. A heavy weight suddenly appears in your gut, so heavy that you feel like you can’t move so much as a muscle. 

Did you just go too far? Was that too much to ask? Was this how you were going to die?

The reflex to gag and inhale combat each other in your throat, a discomforting sensation that crawls up your spine while you tremble. You’re almost certain that the nails have penetrated the layer of skin, drawing beads of blood that’ll trail down your mark. You whimper at the prickly pain. Yet, in all your unease, the most masochistic thought arrives briefly at the forefront, and you can’t help but consider: this position is just as intimate as all the other interactions. You’re already so vulnerable in their lap, does the hand around your neck change your peril in any way? No, you’ve been a defenseless lamb to a slaughter the moment you’ve stepped into the domain of a menacing wolf. 

Ah. Even now, you can’t dismiss the warmth of their fingertips. 

“Do you still want to touch me when I do this?” They demand callously, their voice harsh and reverberating through the room. Their grasp closes more around, and you feel your supply of oxygen inhibited. Tears begin to brim your eyes, but you’re undeterred. Unlike Arlecchino’s, your answer is instant and breathless. Your eyes intently lock on theirs, the hardened expression enough to satisfy their question. There’s no need for contemplation. Danger, you determine, is addicting. 

“Yes.”

The previously small smile stretches across their lips considerably. Content, or dare you say it, thrill writes itself over their face and the boulder previously pressed against your shoulders is lifted. Your throat is freed from their hold, but their touch doesn’t halt there. Instead, they rotate your head for you to face to the left, exposing your side profile to them. From the corner of your eyes, you watch as their face draws closer to your skin, hot breath cascading across the small dents her nails created. The one on your thigh finally leaves, moving to one of your hips, tender strokes across your flushed surface. They lean forward, and moist, plush skin meets yours. Lips traverse over the length of your neck, teeth scraping against, making you weakly groan. It takes all of your will to still your body, only allowing for the Harbinger to do whatever they desire to your form. Their touches are burning, burning, burning–so hot that you wonder if you’re experiencing a heat wave. Peppered kisses follow the edge of your jawbone, all the way up to your earlobe. A wet kiss graces your ear and then the most sinful of statements dignifies your eardrums, like a devil whispering hymns directly into your ear. 

“I think I’ll keep you to myself after this.”

A short hum follows afterward. 

“If you want to touch me, you’ll have to work for it. You’re only mine for tonight, aren't you? Entertain me. Give me a private dance, doll. After all, you have me for all night.” 

---

Link to M-Alexa's amazing art and how I imagine Arlecchino to look like in this oneshot.

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 25: Body Worship

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to prove to you how beautiful you are on the anniversary of the first time you met.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, sensual and romantic, oral (fem receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, hints at reader being insecure about her body, mentions a pocket of fat on her inside thigh

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: a special fic on a special day for me ❤️ dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Your hand grasps Bucky’s bulging bicep as he leads you back into your hotel room after having kept you occupied sightseeing throughout the day.

You thought it was suspicious how interested he had been exploring the old city, when you could instead be exploring each other as he usually prefers, but when you see the scene in front of you as you return to your presidential suite, it all suddenly makes sense.

Candles flicker in the middle of a formally set table, luscious red rose petals scatter the white tablecloth and floor, and where the extravagant leather couch had been this morning, now an elaborate blanket fort has been constructed. Soft violin music plays in the background as Bucky leads you around the room, allowing you time to take in everything which has been set up specially for you.

“Do you remember what today is?” He asks in what you assume is in response to a dumbfounded expression on your face.

You wrack your brain for what on earth you’ve forgotten - a birthday, anniversary, special occasion? But you come up completely blank. Slowly shaking your head, the tips of your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that Bucky has organised such a romantic night for something you’ve completely forgotten.

“Three years ago today was the first time I laid eyes on you, the first time we met.” He informs without an ounce of judgement to be perceived in his tone.

It’s hard to believe it was only three years ago you met the man you now refer to as your soulmate, it feels like you’ve known this generous and passionate person an entire lifetime.

Bucky holds out his hand, which you take without question, and pulls you into his broad chest, swaying in time to the orchestral music. You rest your head on his strong pec, feeling his heart beating just for you as his soft lips kiss your hairline.

“Never in my life have I ever wanted anyone more than I wanted you.” His voice sounds shaky, almost as if he’s choked up and trying to get the words out without sounding affected.

You look up at him through your lashes to find your devoted husband with tears in his eyes, gazing at you like his entire world is resting in the palm of his hand.

“My life has not been the same since I met you. I can’t fathom an existence without you; everything is brighter, bolder, more colourful when you're next to me. This night three years ago, I remember going home to an empty bed and thought it was strange how much my mouth was hurting. It was such a weird sensation. Then I realised, it only hurt because I’d been smiling from ear to ear the whole time I was with you.”

“You never told me that.” Tears are now welling in your own eyes, but you fight them back so that you can memorise the smile curving on Bucky’s features and the twinkle in his eye that you’ve only ever noticed when he’s looking at you.

“I knew that night you were someone I wanted in my life, in whatever way you would have me. It was like I could see my entire future laid out in front of me, all encompassed in one strong, stunning woman, with the most gorgeous, sparkling eyes I’ve ever seen and a brilliant smile that makes my heart leap out of my chest every single damn time. And here I am the luckiest man in the entire world that you chose me to be the one you trusted with your heart.”

He takes your hand while still swaying to the inflections of the string instrument, and presses the palm of your hand against his chest. His heartbeat is quicker than the pace you’re used to feeling while he’s resting, but the notion that his thoughts of you are the reason his body is reacting in such a way makes your own heart leap out of your chest.

“I would never give it to anyone else, my love.”

“Te iubesc pentru totdeauna [I love you forever]. I still can’t believe you’re all mine.” His smile is as bright and warm as the setting sun, and right now you’re Icarus flying fatally close.

But James Barnes is worth falling out of the sky for.

The words tasting sweet and sincere on his pillow soft lips when you kiss him. His mouth moves slowly, yet purposefully against yours, trying to convey his love for you in action, rather than just words. His hands cup your jaw, coaxing you to open up to him, his tongue dancing with yours in a display of his yearning need.

“I wanna give you the whole world.”

“You already have. You are my whole world.” This time it’s him who kisses you, with much more ardour and intensity, sweeping his tongue in your mouth. His hands slide down the length of your back and pull you flush with him, a moan escaping his lips as your hands tangle in his hair. He hasn’t had it cut since before the wedding, and the additional length allows you to tug on the ends nicely. “Let’s skip dinner and go straight to dessert, shall we?”

“You’re the only thing I’m craving tonight.” The hunger in his eyes certainly indicates he could devour you like a five course meal if he were so inclined, so who are you to stop him?

His large hands on your hips slowly turn you around so your ass is pressed against his front. They trace the curves of your figure gradually, taking his time, paying attention to every swell and dip of your shape which he has helped you learn to love.

Bucky zips down your dress, the material coming loose over your shoulders, and with a little shimmy, you’re almost naked before him.

“God, you’re so gorgeous. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”

Boys you dated in the past were only interested in one thing: seeing you naked. Though Bucky loves you bare and writhing for him, he first and foremost loves who you are; loves your soul. Being able to strip you off your clothes has always been a privilege to him, not a right.

His lips press gentle, feather light kisses along your shoulder as he rids you of your underwear, and all of a sudden you feel very exposed standing in the middle of the room, even though Bucky’s seen you naked a thousand times.

As soon as he turns you around again to face him, eyes brimming with nothing other than pure adoration and devotion, that nagging feeling of being on display evaporates. He loves you, has vowed to spend the rest of his life worshipping you, there is not a single inch of your body that Bucky Barnes does not love.

“Lay back for me baby.” Bucky requests, his powerful hands assisting you as you fall back into the blanket fort. “I got you.” He promises, ensuring you don’t collapse in a way that will result in you being hurt. The care in his touch, how gentle this burly, tattooed man is, as if he is handling a precious artefact he cannot afford to damage.

Though Bucky looks ready to take you right then and there, he starts out slowly, trailing kisses down your neck, covering your chest and breasts, tongue swirling around your nipples and sucking on both of them until they form stiff peaks, all the while whispering sweet praises against your hot skin.

“My beautiful wife. So fucking gorgeous. My Queen. These perfect tits. God, these hips, these fucking hips. And your thighs, they drive me insane. Just wanna be buried between them. Wanna give you everything, all of me. Gonna make love to you, darling. Make you feel so good.” His breath is hot against your skin, words of devotion whispered just for your ears as he places sweet kisses on the inside of your thighs, staring at your knee, and making his was towards your core, paying particular attention to the pocket of fat you’d forever disliked about your legs, but Bucky has always adored.

A moan escapes your mouth and your eyes roll back as Bucky’s strong arms hold your thighs apart and his lips close around your clit. It’s almost unexpected, with how he had been taking his time treasuring all other parts of you, but you feel a flood of wetness gush out of you at the intimate contact.

There’s a sense of power having a man as important as James Barnes lying between your legs, treating you like a queen, obsessed with bringing you to orgasm. But when Bucky looks up at you through his lashes as he suckles on your clit, you feel nothing but a rush of palpable love.

His tongue is experienced in those little lapping movements that have you throwing your head back, his strong hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you completely open for him. Bucky’s hips rut into the pillows and blankets below him as you grind your hips on his face.

You can’t even control the obscene sounds falling from your lips as Bucky continues to abuse your pussy, your hands flying to his hair as he leads you closer and closer to the edge of the ultimate high.

“You look so beautiful when you cum - show me.” The lower half of Bucky’s face glistens with your juices before he dives back into your folds, as hungry as ever.

You oblige, as you do every time your dangerously gorgeous husband requests this from you, it’s like his words themselves compel you to satisfy his order. Your back arches off the pillows, your whole body trembling as a devastating pleasure rips through you, it feels like burning sunshine radiates in your veins, surging with every pulse.

Bucky’s lips don’t let up their suction until your thighs stop shaking, only to switch his attention to your stomach, showering every inch of your soft skin with kisses as his hands knead your breasts.

You feel cold and empty for a moment as Bucky focuses on stripping off his clothes, but as soon as he looks back at you, completely bare and ready to finish what he started, warmth blooms in your chest.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, darling.” Bucky sits on his heels, thick cock in hand as he rubs his leaking tip through your soaking folds, humming at the sensation. A whine falls from your lips, desperate for him to fill you up, for you to feel so utterly full and satiated by him that you’re almost on the brink of insanity.

“Need to feel you Buck, please, I need you so fucking bad.”

He mumbles something in Romanian you don’t understand in response as he pushes his swollen tip inside you. You let out simultaneous groans as he slowly fills you up. As he bottoms out, he rests his forehead against yours. You finally feel complete with him buried to the hilt.

“Fuuuccckkk… a lifetime of that feeling will never be enough.”

You moan against his mouth as his hands intertwine with yours, pinning them above your head as his eyes brim with pure love. He starts off slowly, almost agonisingly so, pulling all the way out of you before thrusting himself inside to where it feels like he’s in your stomach, watching your face intently to your reactions as his cock kisses your cervix.

His bare chest presses to yours, caging you in, hearts thundering against each other as you move together to a relentless rhythm, an intoxicating tide of intimacy and pleasure. His gaze and touch are full of love, a contrast to the harshness of the underworld he was carved out of, but you know it’s you who makes him tender.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well aren’t you?” Your nails rake down his back as you feel your walls clench down on his member. The rhythm of his cock stroking your velvety walls doesn't let up as his lips attach to your neck, sucking your skin in a way that makes you see stars.

He understands your wants and needs better than anyone else, learning the formula for your gratification in a way that none of your previous partners ever tried to.

“Oh God, you’re so deep, Buck. Feels so good.” His hips roll into yours fluidly, hips circling and rubbing against your g-spot so effortlessly with every thrust. The pressure in your lower belly threatens to engulf you, drown you in a sea of pleasure, but it’s a demise you’ll embrace when Bucky’s making you feel like you’re floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

Your orgasm approaches fast, the look of complete desperation in Bucky’s eyes only bringing you closer to the edge. All it takes is Bucky whispering a phrase in his native language and another deep thrust for you to come apart on his cock.

You can barely breathe with the ferocity of your high, it feels like an entire waterfall of pleasure washing over you at once, overwhelming, brutal, but oh so good.

“I’m gonna cum so hard for you baby.” Bucky moans as your walls flutter around him. He looks the picture of utter sexiness, jaw hanging open, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and that contrasting warm fondness in his blown out pupils.

Your chest squeezes when it’s your name that his lips enunciate as he spills his large load inside you.

You’re the one making him feel this good. You’re the only person who he will ever share this intimate side of himself with again. The only one who gets to see his face as he comes undone, steel blue eyes boring into yours as if he wants to remember each and every detail of your face as you cum together.

Bucky collapses next to you, arm slung around your waist as you both catch your breath. You smile at him and he beams right back as you sweep a strand of hair from his eyes.

“God, I’m so in love with you. Can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.” There’s a moment where he simply looks at you, as if trying to convince himself you laid beside him is in fact his reality, before he kisses the tip of your nose.

“You don’t have to imagine, Buck, I’m all yours, for the rest of forever.” You snake your arms around his torso and pull yourself flush against his broad chest, feeling him place a kiss to your hairline. “I love you.”

Bucky pulls a blanket over your intertwined bodies as you close your eyes, feeling completely content falling asleep beside the love of your life in a blanket fort.

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Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @Inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan

[dear-bunnyboo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

important note: my face claim will be madison beer but you can imagine whoever you desire. also the songs mentioned are not all technically all madison’s i will be incorporating other songs from other artists.

all the pictures seen below are not mine, however they were edited by yours truly. credits to the owners.

requests are open for The One! If you want specifically want something to happen in this series, then please message me or send a request and maybe I’ll consider 🤍

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader / Brief Ex!Jack Hughes x Singer!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Trevor turns 23! You are cordially invited to his 23th birthday party… in Michigan… at the lake house… the Hughes’ lake house… along with literally everyone else…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, fluff, slight angst, established relationship, toxic!ex, mentions of cheating, tension, protective!Joe, fight, physical fight. angry!Joe, name calling, rumors

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The text stared at you as you did the same to it.

I’m having a party at the lake house for my birthday. You and Joe are invited, I already messaged Y/BF/N. But it’s fine if you’re not comfortable.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there just rereading the same text over and over again.

Trevor’s birthday was in a few days and the hockey player just messaged you about his party. Normally you would not have any qualms with attending such a gathering but considering your history with a certain someone you weren’t so sure anymore.

The second you received the text— you were simply gonna reply with a confirmation that you were coming, however, after seeing those two words— lake house; you just had to reel it back for a quick second. You have completely forgotten that Jack is still Trevor’s closest companion. They had a bit of a falling out and a few disagreements regarding you and the shit Jack has put you through, but they still remained civil— more so cause you told Trevor to do so, you never wanted to be the reason their friendship ended and whatever happened and is happening with you and Jack— that’s between the two of you.

The lake house is In Michigan. The same lake house the Hughes family owned. The same lake house you and Y/BF/N used to go to every summer. The same lake house your ex-boyfriend would take you for three years of relationship. You had made a lot of memories with not only Jack but your friends there and now one of those friends wants you to come back, just like old times sake.

It’s almost been a year since Jack cheated on you, which means that it’s been a year since you’ve actually had any sort of conversation with anyone in the friend group except for Trevor and Y/BF/N. You recently were all in one room together at the ESPY Awards but that was it— nothing more than an awkward encounter.

You were heavily considering not attending, however, the lingering thought of you missing yet another one of Trevor’s birthdays was messing with you.

“Baby, are you alright?” A deep voice coming from behind you asked. Joe moved toward you in a fluid motion as he quietly watched your still figure on the bed— you remained frozen staring at the now black screen of your phone that was gingerly sitting on the palm of your hand; you were evidently deep in thought.

Turning your attention to your boyfriend who now placed his hands on either side of you on the bed— caging you in between them. Looking up at him you gave him a smile— your mood instantly lifting as you stared at the baby blue eyes that you loved gazing into. Joe’s calming aura gave you a push— instantly forgetting about your worries. The quarterback was your safety blanket and with him, nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered but him.

“I’m alright.” You reassured the blonde before continuing, “It’s Trevor’s birthday in a few days and he invited us to come to his party.” you finished before lifting your hand up, tangling your fingers through Joe’s fluffy locks.

“And that caused you the space out for minutes?” Joe’s eyebrow raised teasingly once he realized that you weren’t telling him the whole truth about the current predicament you found yourself in— he knows you so well, he’s gonna have Y/BF/N a run for her money.

“What’s wrong, lovebug?” Joe gave you a reassuring smile as he carefully brushed your hair off your face.

“The party is in Michigan at the lake house.” You said earning a look from Joe that either said 'Go on' or 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

“It’s the Hughes family lake house. Which means that everyone is gonna be there. The friends I haven’t talked to in about a year; Jack, possibly his girlfriend, and his family— don’t you see how weird it’s gonna be?” You finally blurted out like an insane person while you frantically played with your fingers— your mind was going haywire, and you were pretty sure you were close to short-circuiting from all the worrying; this instantly made Joe intertwine his hands with yours to stop you from fidgeting and just like that it went quiet in your head.

It was just you and Joe.

“Do you want to go?” Joe asked softly before placing chaste kisses on your hands that were enveloped in his.

“I don’t." You answered honestly with no hesitation. "But I missed Trevor’s birthday last year and I feel bad which makes me want to go.” You mumbled.

Joe looked at you deep in thought as he tried to understand. “Okay. Does being in the same room with your ex still make you uncomfortable? Because if it does, you don’t have to go anywhere, baby. Trevor would understand.” The quarterback carefully gathered you towards him, pulling you to sit on his lap before wrapping you against his arms.

“Jack and his girlfriend are dead to me. Being around them doesn’t do anything to me anymore but I don’t want to ruin Trevor’s birthday by making everyone in attendance uncomfortable by the two of us being there.” You confessed thinking about the looks people are gonna give you and Jack for being in the same room together— let alone with your significant others in attendance as well.

“You’re too sweet, you know that?” Joe chuckled making you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Here I thought you were uncomfortable but turns out, you don’t want others to be uncomfortable.” Joe’s lips caught yours as you melted into him and the kiss. “Lovebug.” Your boyfriend says against your lips as he proves the point of his nickname for you— Joe sees how selfless you are and how you cared for other people's wellbeing other than your own and Joe loved you for that— that was the reason why he fell in love with you in the first place.

His Lovebug.

“It’s totally up to you if you want to go or not. If you don’t, then don’t go— you are not entitled to do so, again Trevor would understand. If you do want to go, I’ll be with you the entire time; Y/BF/N will be too.” Joe caresses your cheeks against his hand, staring straight into your eyes as he comforts you.

His words enveloped you in a sense of security and understanding. It was a reminder of the unwavering support and respect Joe consistently extended to you. You felt grateful for his empathy and willingness to accompany you, should you choose to attend the party. The fact that Joe acknowledged your emotions and offered his support without hesitation meant the world to you.

“You don’t have to go, baby.” You told Joe, not wanting to put him in an uncomfortable predicament.

“I’ll go if you go— I won’t leave you there alone to fend for yourself.” The quarterback shook his head as if he was trying to tell you that his decision was final.

His words made you giggle, in turn making the quarterback look down on your face with a grin from hearing such melodious sounds coming from your mouth.

"What?" He chucked.

"You've said that as if I am going into a snake pit." You giggled harder at your boyfriend's expression as he teased you.

"You might as well be." He muttered under his breath knowing damn well you heard him regardless of his methods trying to mask his statement.

"Joe!— two snakes only." You played along making the blonde laugh out loud as he wiggled and prodded his fingers against your sides, tickling as you shrieked from the sensation.

Joe had a way with you. He was so easy to be around with, so easy to talk to, so easy to love. He has the power that can bring you out of something so traumatizing and sensitive— making the situation so lighthearted and safe.

Joe Burrow feels so safe.

You couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of gratitude for Joe's unwavering support. It was a reminder that your relationship was built on trust, communication, and a genuine willingness to navigate any challenges together. With Joe by your side, the prospect of the party became less about past relationships and more about enjoying the present moment and the company you kept.

Turning your phone back on, you responded to Trevor.

We'll be there.

…

It was the morning of Trevor's birthday and you were finally getting a grip of yourself. Your flight from Cincinnati to Michigan was quiet— in your private plane, you and Joe were snuggled up on your seats as usual while your best friend was typing away on her laptop with so much fervor— she was truly an even bigger workaholic than you are.

You felt a hand on yours, turning to look at the person who gave you a warm smile and a peck on your temple. Joe was such a comforting presence to be with, the touch of his hand around yours, the look he gave you every time he saw you, the way he was looking at you now, the love he poured into you every day— it was all overwhelming.

You could almost feel the tears forming in your eyes as you looked at Joe. You still couldn't believe how lucky you were.

"Baby?" Joe whispered, you were just staring at him and the way he cared for you.

You still couldn't believe that this person loves you.

"I'm okay." You responded and it was the truth, you were more than okay, you were ready for whatever was going to happen.

The plane landed on time— you, Joe, and Y/BF/N got out of the plane and you were met with a Rolls Royce that would take you to the hotel and then the lake house— you weren’t planning on spending more time in Michigan let alone the lake house. The second the party ends you, Joe, and Y/BF/N were flying back to Cincinnati. You insisted on Y/BF/N to stay longer to spend more time with Trevor knowing their interest towards one another, however was only heavily declined by your best friend— stating she didn’t want to spend her weekend stuck in the lake house with Jack and his girlfriend.

You tried persuading Joe to stay in the hotel but he insisted on staying with you, you vehemently refused, still hesitant to bring your boyfriend to such an awkward gathering but your boyfriend remained firm in his decision— you were too afraid to say no to the one person who meant the world to you, so you agreed to Joe's terms and let him accompany you.

After getting ready in the hotel; the three of you headed back to the car. The drive to the lake house was quiet, no one really talked until the driver announced you were there. You still remember the feeling of excitement and nervousness you felt whenever you came here, but now it was tainted with nostalgic memories and heartache.

Joe's hand enveloped yours as you got out of the car. As you looked around the sight before you was still the same lake house you knew— however, the whole atmosphere seemed different now— you used to love coming to the lake house every summer while you were dating Jack but now you couldn't help the grimace forming on your face. It wasn't as bright or cheerful as you remembered; there were no signs of the teenagers you all used to be running around. You only saw adults outside— the adults you wanted to avoid.

Your steps toward the door were heavy, your anxiety levels rising by the second.

"Hey!" The sound of Trevor's voice instantly calmed you as the boy ran toward you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding— the sight of the hockey player made you realize that no matter what, Trevor will always be one of your best friends.

"Hi. Z!" You exclaimed as you engulfed him in a tight hug— he had that effect on people. You felt an arm wrap around your waist and you looked up to find Joe smiling down at you— your boyfriend was such a comforting presence to be around with.

Trevor smiled widely, a hint of surprise on his face from the fact that his friend was actually here and even more so by the fact that said friend's boyfriend was right next to her, holding her tightly against his body.

"You made it." He hugged you once again, this time you didn't hesitate to do the same.

"Happy Birthday." You wished the boy a happy birthday— you gave him a wrapped box with his present inside before pulling him in another hug, not even realizing that you had been squeezing the hockey player.

Trevor noticed but didn't say anything about it. He just kept the conversation going— happy you were present. "Thanks. And thank you for coming."

"Well, someone had to celebrate your big day." You giggled,

"He, man." Trevor and Joe's hug lasted a bit shorter than yours did. "Happy Birthday. Again."

"Thank you." Trevor chuckled at the quarterback's words.

The two boys shared a few words and you couldn't help but just look at them. Trevor's presence always calmed you down— he was like the sun, the warmth, the light. Joe, on the other hand, was the moon, the calm, the peace. The two had a certain aura that instantly brought comfort to you.

"Y/BF/N?" Trevor called to your other best friend teasingly. You and Joe turned your attention to the girl who was quietly standing behind you.

"Happy Birthday, Trevor." Your best friend gave the birthday boy a soft smile and a hug— her demeanor completely changed the moment she saw the hockey player.

"Thanks. You guys can come in, drinks are on the table." Trevor's eyes lingered on Y/BF/N for a moment longer before gesturing inside.

You entered the house and the familiar smell and atmosphere enveloped you— the Hughes family lake house was exactly as you remembered it.

The lake house was filled with the same people you knew.

And the same person you didn't want to see.

Jack and his girlfriend, Ashley were on the couch, and they were both staring at you.

You are here for Trevor. You are here for Trevor. You are here for Trevor— you mentally repeated in your head like a mantra as you diverted your eyes off of them, directing your attention on Joe who was carefully assessing your reaction.

Nothing. You had none. No reaction. With your head held high, you smiled at the people around you— showing them that you have indeed moved on and nothing can bother you anymore.

But you weren't alone.

Your boyfriend was with you.

And he was a sight for sore eyes.

Everyone's eyes were on him, and they were looking at him with wonder— sometimes you forget how much of a star Joe is to the rest of the world being the one of biggest NFL players; because to you he was just Joe— your Joe.

"Oh my god! You're Joe Burrow!" A loud voice came from your right side and you immediately cringed. You didn't need to turn around to know that the source of that sound was Jack's girlfriend— her voice was one of a kind. Jack’s girlfriend Ashely stood up, now making her way to your boyfriend as if she wasn’t just begging for Joe’s picture at the ESPY Awards not long ago.

Joe just gave her a tight-lipped smile— the quarterback wasn't rude, so of course, he was going to be nice— well, try to be nice at least.

"Hi. I'm Ashley. Jack's girlfriend. It's such a pleasure meeting you, Joe. You are amazing. I'm a huge fan!" She was rambling, talking nonstop and the quarterback was trying to catch up.

You were already annoyed at her— plus wasn't she supporting the Jets when you saw her at one of the Bengals’ games?

"Thank you," Joe muttered. "Nice meeting you, too."

"Can I please get a picture with you?" Ashley asked, not even looking in your direction as if you weren't even there.

And just like the last time she asked Joe for a picture, Joe spotted Y/BF/N who was trying to balance four drinks in her hands; Joe took that as an escape and helped your best friend, acting as if he hadn't heard her request… yet again.

"Here." Joe handed a drink to you and Trevor who was trying to hold his laugh as he watched the scene unfold.

"Thanks, man."

"Yeah, no problem."

"I'm sorry." You whispered to your boyfriend before looking at Trevor.

"No worries, baby." Joe placed a soft kiss on your temple, and the look on the birthday boy's face was priceless as he watched you two kiss— the hockey player acting as if he was a child seeing his parents kiss.

You turned to the side and found your ex-boyfriend staring straight at you, you didn't have any feelings left for him, and that was the truth.

However, it wasn't the case for him.

Jack was glaring at you, and it was a glare full of envy, and hurt, and anger.

"Let's go." You felt a tug on your arm as Joe pulled you towards the opposite direction where everyone was.

The party continued as normal. You hung out with Trevor, Y/BF/N, and the rest of your friends. Jack and Ashley kept their distance and didn't approach you— not that you minded, you were actually glad.

The party went on, and you were having the best time. The second the clock struck midnight, everyone screamed 'Happy Birthday!' to Trevor as the cake was lit. You watched as your best friend blew his candles and made his wish— everyone was cheering and happy, especially you.

Joe pulled you in and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing your cheek as he did so. "Happy?"

You didn't know what was more satisfying, watching Trevor blow his candles and make his wish or hearing Joe's question.

"Happy." You responded as you placed a kiss on the corner of his lips, ignoring the looks everyone was giving you and just enjoying the moment with your boyfriend.

The rest of the party went smoothly and the guests slowly left one by one— all except you, Joe, Y/BF/N, and the rest of the friend group.

The three of you were about to head out— you and Joe were just waiting for Y/BF/N who went to the bathroom.

Unbeknownst to you, on the way out of the bathroom, Y/BF/N caught Ashley talking to someone on the phone.

“She’s pregnant. Y/N Y/L/N is pregnant. She didn't touch a single drop of alcohol and the entire time she and Joe didn't even look like a couple, I bet their relationship is all for show.” Jack’s girlfriend said as continued lying to the person on the other end if the call which made Y/BF/N’s blood run hot in anger.

Y/BF/N then realized that Ashely was the anonymous source that had been sending fake insiders on you to the press— the same source that you and your best friend have been worrying about all week. The rumors of you and Joe only dating because of you getting pregnant has been spreading across the internet like wildfire.

This wouldn’t normally bother you considering it was just a rumor. However, people are believing the story even more because of the fact that Anonymous Celebrities have credible sources— “credible.”

"You, bitch!" Y/BF/N yelled before lunging towards the girl— the two fell on the floor and were brawling.

You and Joe turned around from hearing a thud. You were shocked to see Y/BF/N on top of Ashley, pulling the girl’s hair as Jack’s girlfriend struggled.

Joe was about to go in and pull them apart when the hockey player beat him to it. Trevor rushed in and pried your best friend away from Ashley— the two girls were still yelling and screaming at each other.

"What the fuck, Y/BF/N?"

"She's the one who keeps sending the fake articles on Y/N!" Y/BF/N yelled, still not taking her eyes off the other girl.

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked, now confused at the whole situation.

"She's been the one sending the anonymous sources to the press! The one who keeps making it seem like Y/N is pregnant.” your best friend was panting.

“I fucking heard her talking to someone on the phone. She told someone you are pregnant and that your relationship with Joe is fake.” Y/BF/N continued, the venom in her voice evident.

"Y/BF/N, are you sure about this?" You asked your best friend yet you believed her with every fiber of your being but at the same time you had to make sure.

"Yes. I am." She was dead serious, and it was clear in her eyes.

Everyone's eyes turned to the culprit. Ashley didn't say anything, she was just staring at the floor.

"Is that true, Ash?" Jack asked, his face showed that he didn't know what was going on.

"I have no idea what she's talking about. She's crazy." The girl defended herself, but the guilt was evident in her eyes.

"Why would you do that? What did I ever do to you?" You finally spoke. You couldn't believe the shit the girl was pulling.

“She’s lying! I don't know—”

"Oh, shut up. Just shut the fuck up." Y/BF/N yelled again, ready to pounce on her.

"Y/BF/N." Trevor was the only thing holding her back.

"I'll ask you again. Why would you do that? What did I ever do to you?" You asked Ashley who still didn't say anything.

"Baby, let's just go." Joe placed a hand on your shoulder, telling you it's time to leave.

You wanted to listen to him, you really did. But the way Jack's girlfriend was looking at you was making your blood boil.

"It's not fair." Ashley muttered, the rage in her voice was evident.

"What is not fair?"

"You cheating on him. He's the perfect boyfriend and you cheated on him with Joe who is better off without you by the way.”

You were stunned by the audacity of the girl.

“Excuse you?” you scoffed all your patience was now thrown out of the window. You were here for Trevor and only Trevor, it is his day— his birthday. The entire party you remained civil and surprisingly Jack did too, all for the sake of Trevor, and now this bitch was testing every bit of your patience.

“First of all—” you started before eyeing Trevor who was watching you with amusement on his face; silently asking permission which he gladly granted by nodding at you to continue, clearly enjoying the chaos of it all.

“Jack cheated on me— cheated on me with you. So if that's your definition of a perfect boyfriend— Oh honey, the bar is on the dirty, dirty ground.”

You looked at Jack's girlfriend in the eyes, a look full of hatred and annoyance. "Second, no one is better off without me. My relationship with Joe is no one's business. So the next time you try and run your mouth off again, will be the last time you'll ever think about opening it.”

You were done, the adrenaline was still pumping through your veins. You were ready to fight her right then and there.

"Let's go." Joe tugged at your arm, trying to stop you from getting yourself into trouble.

“Whore.” Ashley muttered under her breath.

This instantly made Joe turn around. Your ways calm boyfriend now clearly fuming at Jack’s girlfriend.

“What did you say?” Joe’s glare was so intense that you almost felt and for the girl— almost.

The quarterback didn't let her answer as he walked closer to her and the girl instantly cowered back— she was now shaking from the sudden change of demeanor; however, she still had the guts to reply regardless.

“I don't understand. I believe I wasn't talking to you.” Ashley managed to muster out as she eyed Jack who looked too conflicted to even help her.

“It's simple. Talk to my girlfriend with respect or you're talking to me instead.”

God— you were gonna marry that man.

You knew Joe wasn't the violent type, heck he was never the type to fight back or trash talk when he's being provoked in a game. He wasn't the type to fight or cause a scene, yet he was willing to defend you— his lovebug.

“Again, what did you say?” Joe emphasized each word.

Jack was now looking at his girlfriend who was trying to hide behind him. You couldn't see her face but judging from the way her body was trembling, you were sure she was scared.

Joe was the sweetest and softest person, yet the second you were threatened he was willing to step up and protect you.

He was your safe space.

With her silence, you pulled your boyfriend away as you moved to leave but before you did, you turned back to Ashely, “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” you said before walking out the door with Joe and Y/BF/N.

Joe had his arm wrapped around your waist while your best friend had hers intertwined with Trevor's. The four of you were walking out, laughing and joking about what just happened— the tension and drama now out of the room.

The last thing you heard from inside was Jack yelling at his girlfriend— they were both yelling and arguing. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jack watched your retreating figure from the window, his face filled with conflicting emotions— sadness, anger… determination.

dividers: @cafekitsune

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[kentosbabes]

ex bf gojo, ex bf eren, ex bf that, WHAT ABOUT OUR NANAMI 😩

ex boyfriend nanami!!

( the love of my life <33 )

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who still despite your relationship ending still loves you from the bottom of his heart. He sends you flowers every Valentine's Day from the year you split, white tulips because you once mentioned it was your favourite and he hasn’t forgotten since.

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who still has the torn-up top set of the lingerie you bought for his birthday in the back of his closet. That one article of clothing held fond memories of the two of you together.

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who hates to see you act nonchalant at work with him and friendly with other people, other men. He feels a wave of anger when he sees you gift that pretty smile of yours to your male colleagues, he feels an illogical protectiveness as it’s not like you two are together anyways and Nanami is anything but illogical.

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who puts himself into situations where he knows he might encounter you. He doesn’t care that the two of have broken up but he loves you and not seeing for for periods of time leaves him lonely, even more lonely since you split.

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who even after an argument about your relationship and why it ended felt even more love for you, so in the heat of the moment, with your faces inching closer together, he pressed his mouth to yours and kissed you hard. The passion you remember from before came back, the electricity was nostalgic and intoxicating, so it isn't anyone could fault why you fell back into his bed.

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who took your glasses off in a practised motion, one that only lovers have. It’s been a while since either of you has done anything so Nanami keeps heavy eye contact with him whilst he’s going down on you and holds your hand.

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who mutters in your ear, "You're so pretty," and he can't help but smile when you nuzzle against his hand as he cups your cheek, "M’ gonna come, you’re gonna make me come. Want it inside? Beg me."

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who uses the headboard on the bed for leverage to go deeper and faster, to extract new sounds and to tease out new motions he hasn’t seen before.

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who after even after everything loves you and that hasn’t changed a bit despite everything, he whispers this into your ear and you press a kiss to his temple promising that you will actually “discuss everything tomorrow morning but for now, let’s just enjoy each other’s presence”.

Ex-boyfriend Nanami who wakes you up with eggs, toast and orange juice in bed. You can’t feel any stickiness and your face feels clean, just like before whilst you were still dating he cleaned you up and cuddled with you. It felt like no time had passed between you guys so is it any wonder that when he looked up at you with a mix of both questioning and pleading eyes that you said you would go back to him?

masterlist

[aviscarrentals]

i want to play a (racing) game

a series of f1 fics based off of some of my favorite horror movies

charles leclerc- the shining

you, your boyfriend, and a bunch of friends decide to spend your winter break together in a giant hotel. what could go wrong?

max verstappen- it

after years away from your hometown, derry, you suddenly receive an urgent call from your long-forgotten childhood friend, alex, that leads to you returning to the very place you swore you would never face again

carlos sainz- a quiet place

after losing everything you know when the world fell into apocalypse due to the invasion of alien-like monsters with some very sharp ears, you find a new family in the other survivors

lando norris- scary movie (saw parody)

you wake up next to a stranger in a dimly lit room chained to a chair, which is bolted to the floor. luckily, the situation turns out to be more humorous than terrifying (may or may not be 100% based off of the jerma episode of generation loss LOL)

fernando alonso- freaky

you wake up in the body of a middle aged man. but not just any man. a man who also happens to be a wanted serial killer.

george russell- the purge

you and your best friend alex's annoying best friend, george, have to work together to survive the purge night (lily's also there)

pierre gasly- unfriended

you and your friends video call every friday night to hang out together. unfortunately, an angry spirit has decided it wants to spend some time with you guys as well...

mick schumacher- fnaf

after countless failed attempts, you've finally found yourself a new job! the bad news is, it's a night shift and you're scared of the dark. so, naturally, you drag your boyfriend along with you.

alex albon- child's play

when you and your boyfriend unexpectedly have to take in your young niece, you two struggle to make a connection with the little girl. maybe splurging on the cool new doll she's been wanting will fix that.

yuki tsunoda- final destination

what do you do when some random guy that you've never spoken to before tells you he's seen visions of you dying? what do you do when it turns out he was right and death is pretty pissed off?

oscar piastri- the menu

you and your husband have worked non-stop to build a successful, stable life for yourselves. you two really deserve a break. how about a fancy dinner on a remote island prepared by one of the most revered chefs in the entire culinary world?

ollie bearman- scary stories to tell in the dark

it's the final halloween before you have to move away from your hometown and your best friends since birth. hopefully you can make it a night to remember.

lance stroll- the cabin in the woods

you and your boyfriend decide to invite some friends to spend the weekend in a little log cabin in the forest as a way to momentarily retreat from your stressful lives. well you definitely won't be getting any rest this weekend, that's for sure.

logan sargeant- scream (aka yelp)

an eerie masked killer has made its way into your town and is slowly picking kids off one by one. who could it be? is there anyone you can trust? prologue chapter 1

liam lawson- happy death day

happy birthday! i hope you're excited because this will be the longest day(s?) of your life

sebastian vettel- the texas chainsaw massacre

it's summer, which of course means it's time for a roadtrip! unfortunately, you and your friends decided to visit texas, usa, where everything's bound to go wrong (because it's texas, usa)

kimi raikkonen- would you rather

desperate times call for desperate measures, although at this point desperate would be an understatement. so when the perfect opportunity falls right into your lap, who are you to turn it down?

jenson button- halloween

it's halloween! the spookiest day of the year. even though you don't bother participating in silly little holiday celebrations, there are some traditions you can't ignore…

mark webber- 28 days later

the world has gone to shit. even so, you're doing everything you can to survive, despite how hard it is on your own. maybe it would be better if you formed a team?